A DISCOURSE OF THE KNOWLEDG OF BEASTS, WHEREIN All that hath been ſaid for, and againſt their RATIOCINATION, is Examined.
By Monſieur de la CHAMBRE, Counſellor to the King of France in his Counſels, and his Phyſitian in ordinary.
Tranſlated into Engliſh by a Perſon of Quality.
LONDON•rinted by Tho. Newcomb for Humphrey Moſele at the Princes Arms in St. Pauls Church-Yard. 1657.
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 pregnan•Reaſons, 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.
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 princip•es & 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.
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 conv•igh 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.
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 confirms•t, 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 con•radictory to it, ſince it deſtroys the order which that ſuppoſeth.
But perhaps the other which he adds may be more regular; For he ſays afterwards, that as God would have the ſpecifick Vertues to be thoſe which are moſt perfect, he would alſo have them moſt 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.
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 Knowledge•s an Action; but he conſents not with me, that this Action is a repreſentation; otherwiſe he would be forced to confeſs, that there is no other means of knowing, but by forming the images of objects, becauſe no repreſentation can be made but by making the picture of the thing which is 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
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.
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.
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 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.
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 ano•her kind of Knowledge whereby it may know it. In effect the Imagination conceiveth what is hot, what is animated: And there is no likelihood when a Beaſt ſees another Animal, that it conceives only the colour, the figure, and the motion which it perceiveth therein; but it conceiveth ſomewhat which hath all thoſe Accidents. And this cannot but be the Subſtance, which in Man ſerves for the Object to the direct knowledge of the 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.
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.
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.
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.
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 are ſome wherein it is not uſed, as almoſt all thoſe are which conſiſt of two terms only, which the Schools call by Secundo Adjacente. For when we ſay, That an Animal runs, that he flies, &c. theſe are perfect Propoſitions, wherein the Verb Eſt is not to be found. And although they ſay that they are reduced to the form of others in putting the Participle in ſtead of a Verb; yet as this manner of ſpeech is not natural, it's a ſign that the phantaſm repreſents not the thing naturally as it is. Indeed, of a thouſand perſons which will ſay, The creature runs, there will not be two but will believe that by thoſe words they underſtand that the beaſt is running, And thoſe Philoſophers which Ariſtotle quotes in his Phyſicks, who would not uſe the Verb Eſt in their diſcourſe, could not but believe that theſe Propoſitions were equivalent.
But it is not here where we would ſtick. We muſt obſerve what M.C. his thought is when he ſays, The Imagination cannot add the Verb Eſt to68 the Notions it makes. Doth he underſtand the word, or the thing which is ſignified by it? If it be the word, I grant that Beaſts uſe it not, becauſe their language is natural, and that that Verb is a Term of Inſtitution agreed upon amongſt Men. But it follows not from thence, That Mens imagination cannot imploy it, ſince the word explicates the thoughts of the Imagination, as well as thoſe of the Underſtanding. If he underſtand the thing which is ſignified by the word, he muſt obſerve whether the Imagination is capable of forming it: For if it hath that power, it may then add the Verb Eſt: And if Beaſts communicate their thoughts, they muſt have ſome Accent which muſt have the ſame force with that word of which we ſpeak.
All who have ſpoken of this Verb,What the Verb Eſt ſignifies in Propoſitions. not omitting Fracaſtor, who is M. C. his great Doctor for matter of Knowledge, ſay, That it's an exterior ſign, whereby men obſerve the union or the diviſion which the Underſtanding makes amongſt Images. And certainly, ſince words are the ſigns of the thoughts, that word which enters into propoſitions cannot be uſeleſs, but muſt mark ſomething which is in the thoughts. Now there is nothing in the interior propoſition which the Underſtanding makes, to which the Verb Eſt is anſwerable, but the union or the diviſion of the Images; And therefore it is true, That this union or diviſion is the thing which is ſignified by it. If this be ſo, all the difficulty is reduced to this point, To know whether the Imagination is capable to unite images? For if ſhe can unite them, ſhe69 doth the thing which is ſignified by the Verb Eſt. And as the Underſtanding by uniting the Idea of Good with that of Aliment, doth all what is neceſſary to ſay, That the Aliment is good: If it be true, that the Imagination can make ſuch like an Union which it would expreſs by language, it would have the ſame foundation as that hath, to ſay, That the thing is ſuch as it conceiveth it; ſince the word Eſt ſignifies nothing elſe but the union of images. Now in my opinion, whatſoever M. C. thinks, we have demonſtrated, That the Imagination unites images, and therefore that it makes propoſitions.
All what M.C. produceth to deſtroy this Truth, is, That a material Faculty cannot add any thing to its object; That the Verb Eſt is not amongſt the ſpecies which come from without; and that to mixe it with the Terms, it marks a doubling in the Knowledge, and ſomewhat which comes very near Reflexion. For my part, I conceive not the ſenſe he gives the laſt words; for according to the common way of ſpeaking, a Doubling in the Knowledge is a Reflexion. Neither can I apprehend how a Reflexion comes very near a Reflexion, ſince it muſt be a Reflexion which were not a Reflexion. But I ſhould have too much to do, ſhould I ſtick at the way of ſpeech which he uſeth: Let's only ſay, That the word Thing which he uſeth, hath too floating a ſignification to induce us to what he pretends. It's70 true, that the Imagination cannot add any thing to its object, if by that word we underſtand any Nature; but it may add conditions and modifications thereunto. Union is not an abſolute Nature, 'tis but a Modification, which is not really different from thoſe things which unite themſelves. And this ſurpaſſeth not the force of the Imagination, no more then the reſt of the actions it doth; for Union is the action of the Imagination, as well as the firſt Conception. And if it were true, That Ʋnion were above its power, becauſe it is not comprehended in thoſe ſpecies which come from without: By the ſame reaſon, the firſt Conception and all other Knowledge would alſo be beyond its power, ſince it is no more compriſed in the Species, then the Union.
What he adds of Reflexion, is to no purpoſe: For the Imagination ought not to be more oblig'd to make reflexion, when it knows the images with the union which it gives them, then the Underſtanding which makes none in the like encounters. Otherwiſe it muſt needs be, That it could never form direct Judgments nor Affirmations without Reflexions, which are unheard of things in the Schools. For although he ſays. That in all Affirmation there is a Reflexion of the Mind made on the Knowledge of the Senſes; foraſmuch as if we did only know the Species, without knowing the Reception, we could never affirm any thing: It is certain, that this Reaſon combats Experience; moſt part of men affirming things, without knowing whether they have received the ſpecies thereof, having never heard ſpeak of them, and knowing them not at all.
71For the reſt, I dare not ſay that M.C. deceived himſelf herein, attributing to the Imagination all what the Underſtanding is able to do on the union of images; believing, that as the Underſtanding may make a reflexion on its action, and form a notion of the Verb Eſt altogether diſtinct and ſeparate from that of the terms, the Imagination ought alſo to do as much, if it can make propoſitions. No, I have too great an opinion of his ſufficiencie, to have that thought: But I imagine that he would try by thoſe objections he hath made, whether I had any knowledge of the School-ſubtilties. And therein truly I ſhall ingenuouſly confeſs that I am but little verſed, as in all other things; and that 'tis an unhappineſs both for him and me, that I know no more of them: For that without doubt there are many places in his Work, wherein I have not obſerved the hidden artifice, and conſequently whereunto I could not employ the ſubtiling of my ſpirit.
WHat follows, is perhaps of the ſame rank: For I underſtand neither the force, nor the addreſs of the reaſons he produceth to ſhew, that the Imagination makes no Negative propoſitions; although that were a Subject which might furniſh him with quantity of fair obſervations, and wherein he might exerciſe all the Niceties of his Logick. In the mean time he contents himſelf to ſay, That the Imagination makes no Negations, and knows them not, becauſe in effect they are nothing; and that they cannot furniſh images to make themſelves known. Could he be ignorant, and did he think that I did not my ſelf know, that Negation may be conſidered two ways: Directly, carrying our thoughts outright on the abſence and the privation which is on the ſubject; and obliquely in conſidering the ſubject deprived of ſuch a thing, and which is not ſuch a thing. We are agreed, that the direct Negation is a Non ens, and is in effect Nothing; and the Underſtanding only can conceive it, becauſe it requires a moſt ſubtile abſtraction, and an exact reflexion on the Knowledge. But we alſo hold, that the Subject which hath not any thing, is truly deprived of the thing which it hath not; and that after that manner the Imagination may make a Negation. For even as he who kills a man, makes73 that the Man is no more, although he doth not directly make the Negation of the Man: So the Imagination ſeparating thoſe images which make a whole, makes that that whole is no more.
On the other ſide, as all theſe things are made of themſelves, or accidentally, the Negation which the Knowing faculties form is made only by accident, becauſe no action can be preciſely terminated in a Non ens. For he that kills, gives the blow; and the loſs of life comes by accident in purſuance of the blow: So the Imagination ſeparates the images; and to this ſeparation, which is a real and true action, happens the Negation.
But M. C. ſays, (p. 142.) That the Negation, whatever it be, cannot furniſh any Image to make it ſelf known. We have already anſwered this objection: For if the word Image ſignifies only the repreſentation of an abſolute thing, it's true that the Negation furniſheth no image to make it ſelf known: But if it comprehends the Modification of images, as is not to be doubted, it's certain that the Negation furniſheth an image at leaſt to make it ſelf known by Accident; foraſmuch as the ſeparation which is a modification of images, is repreſented in the images; and that by this ſeparation the thing is no more what it was before in the thought. So that even as the Imagination makes Affirmative propoſitions when it unites the phantaſms, it muſt alſo make Negatives, if it can ſeparate74 them. And as it imploys the word Eſt to mark the union of images, it hath alſo ſome exterior ſign which deſigns the ſeparation it makes of them, and then it expreſſeth them by the term Non eſt, or by ſome other which is equivalent.
Nothing remains then, but for us to ſhew M.C. That the Imagination ſeparates Images. But what means is there to make a man ſee any thing, that ſhuts his eyes, and who would not ſo much as believe them when they ſhould be made known? All the Reaſons we have deduced have the ſame evidence for the ſeparation of images, as they have for their union. And ſince it is certain, that in Dreams and Sickneſſes the Imagination aſſembles phantaſms which are not of the ſame order; To aſſemble them, ſhe firſt of all muſt ſeparate thoſe with which there was a natural tye. Yet will not M.C. conſent to this truth, as cleer and evident as it is. And he ſays, That to perſwade him, I muſt imploy Reaſons like thoſe I uſe to prove, That the Imagination knows the ſubſtance of objects. I am very glad that M.C. who is ſo ſerious, would ſport himſelf here. He muſt alſo give me leave to ſay, That he might do it more modeſtly then he hath done: For in ſtead of playing upon me, he offends me; and inſtead of uſing raillery, he wrongs me. Were I to revenge my ſelf, I ſhould only anſwer, That ſince he did not apprehend the Reaſons he ſpeaks of, it had been uſeleſs for me to have produced the like: But as there is a great appearance that he will be now better inſtructed than he was then, and that the confuſion he will be in to have uſed me ſo unworthily, is revenge enough for me; I ſhall content75 my ſelf to aſſure him, that I have not only taken the leiſure, but alſo care to examine the Reaſons he condemns, and that others as judicious as himſelf have approved them; And that for his reputation it had been to have been wiſhed, that he himſelf had not had the leiſure to have examined them. For, had he been contented with what he had ſaid here, He could have made thoſe believe which had net the commodity of reading them, that they were as ſtrange as he imagined them. But the paſſion he hath to leave nothing uncontradicted, by which he had finiſh'd his work, hath in the Addition made it appear, that he underſtood them not. And I am confident that this happened through his fault, and none of mine.
After all this, could I not have ſhewn that the Imagination makes Negative propoſitions, it were indifferent for the deſign I had to prove, That Animals reaſon. It's ſufficient that ſhe makes Affirmatives to infer what I pretend, as we ſhall ſee in the purſuit. I had made it appear in my firſt Diſcourſe, That I built no foundation on the proof which I might draw from Negative propoſitions, ſpeaking thereof but by the way, and with that briefneſs which the Examen of thoſe things required, which are quite contrary to thoſe of which hath been amply treated. So that without forſaking the opinion I have of theſe Propoſitions, I ſhall grant M.C. that I have not well eſtabliſhed them, ſo as he will confeſs that he hath not ſufficiently deſtroyed them; And ſhould he have ſucceeded, that it would nothing prejudice the Right which I defend.
But let us conclude this troubleſom Diſcourſe by the addreſs which he uſeth to ſhew. That Beaſts judge not whether things are good or ill unto them. For he will have it paſs for an authentique proof, (p. 143.) The ſenſe of moſt part of Philoſophers, who believe they judge of nothing; and that they know the things which are good for them by ſimple conceptions, without affirming that they are good. And indeed, if he could oblige me to admit for the Judges of a Diſpute, thoſe who are my Adverſaries, he would have found a good Expedient to have gain'd his Cauſe. I know that it is the common opinion, and that the School teacheth, That the Imagination is not ſaid to compoſe, but in that it conſiders two images at once, as he ſays. But theſe are Judges or intereſſed Witneſſes which I refuſe in this cauſe. Were it to be decided by Authority, M. C's. would alone of it ſelf have as much power over me, as that of all the Philoſophers which he quotes. And where it is not neceſſary to produce Reaſons, I ſhall as willingly follow his opinion, as that of all the Schools. But here we muſt of neceſſity: And 'tis not ſufficient to ſay, That Beaſts judge of nothing; It muſt be proved by ſome Reaſons which at leaſt muſt be probable, and muſt not ſubject us to the tyranny of theſe Philoſophers, who have no other motive to believe things, but that their Maſter ſaid it.
But M. C. would have us believe from his bare word, That Beaſts judge not of the objects of their77 Appetite, but as the External ſenſes judge, That an Odor is good or ill; that Fire burns; that Honey is ſweet, and Wormwood bitter; without its being neceſſary to know thoſe things, for the tongue to ſay, This is ſweet, and this is bitter.
Firſt he confounds thoſe Knowledges which are altogether different: For the Senſes know after another manner, that Honey is ſweet, and Wormwood bitter, then they do that Fire burns, and that a Smell doth good or ill. And I ſhall always grant, that Beaſts judge not of the objects of their Appetite, but as the Senſes know that Fire burns, or that an Odor is ill. But at the ſame time I ſhall deny, that they judge of the objects of their Appetite in the ſame manner, as the Taſte judgeth of the ſweetneſs of Honey, and bitterneſs of Wormwood. For the Senſe may by a ſimple conception judge of the ſweetneſs of Honey, for as much as it is the proper and immediate object of the Taſte; and that it is not always neceſſary that the Imagination ſhould make a progreſs from one thing to another: But when it judgeth that the Fire burns, it paſſeth not only from the cauſe to the effect, but it adds alſo one Image which is not ſenſible, to one which is; by judging that Burning is evil, which is an Image which the Senſes furniſh it not withall: ſince to be good or ill, uſeful or uſeleſs, are ſuch things which know per species non ſenſatas, as the School ſaith, and which require, beſides the judgment of the Senſes, that of the Eſtimative faculty.
But I ſay yet more; To make this Judgment, Reaſon is often imployed therein: For when an Animal ſees the Fire, and that he will not come neer78 it for fear of being burnt by it, he muſt have prov'd that 'tis the effect of Fire to burn, and remember the evil which formerly it had done unto him; and conſequently he muſt unite the image of the burning, and the ill which he received thereby, with that of the preſent object, and that of the ill which he apprehends therefrom: Which could not be done without diſcourſe, as we ſhall ſhew hereafter.
Beſides, what need had he to adde, That to know things, it was not neceſſary for the tongue to ſay, This is ſweet, and this is bitter? Doth he believe Propoſitions may not be made without ſpeaking; and that the judgments which the ſoul makes in it ſelf without expreſſing it by language, are not true judgments? If that were ſo, Dumb perſons would be more unhappy then we think them to be, ſince they ſhould not only have loſt their ſpeech, but even their judgment and their reaſon. However it be, it is not the Tongue which makes propoſitions, it's the Faculty of the Soul, and words are but their images and the copies of them.
But perhaps M. C. would have ſaid the ſame thing, but that his tongue (as they ſay) went before his thought: For it's very probable, that in ſtead of ſaying, That when the Senſe judgeth of the ſweetneſs of Honey, and bitterneſs of Wormwood, it is not neceſſary to know theſe things, that the Imagination ſhould conceive that this is ſweet, and that is bitter, ſince it knows thoſe objects by a primary and ſimple conception; he hath alſo written unawares, That it's not neceſſary the Tongue ſhould ſpeak it. For my part, who intend to deal candidly79 with him, I ſhall quit the advantage thoſe words have given me, and grant, That it's true, that when the Senſes know their objects by a ſimple conception, the Imagination makes no propoſitions, becauſe it then makes no union, and that the things preſent themſelves unto it altogether united. But that is not to ſay, that it always repreſents them ſo, and that it often knows them not the one after the other: For an Animal may ſee Honey, without knowing that it's ſweet; and after he knows the ſweetneſs thereof, he may unite the image of Sweet with that of Honey, in which caſe without queſtion a propoſition is made. And truly it's impoſſible to conceive the active and moving nature of this Faculty, without obſerving how at the ſame time it paſſeth from one thing to another; and having the power to preſerve the images, it at the ſame time at pleaſure aſſembles and ſeparates them.
I add this word to undeceive M.C. who (p. 140) believed the Choice and Liberty was important; for our tongue commonly uſeth it as well as that of Will to mark the actions which Animals make of their own proper motions. So they ſay, that a Beaſt goes whither it will, that it eats what it pleaſeth, &c. And in this ſenſe there is no inconvenience, That the Imagination unites the images as it pleaſeth.
But it is the cuſtom of M. C. Critically to amuſe himſelf on words,What Negative Abſtraction is. and to give them what explication he pleaſeth, as he doth here, and as he once did on the word of a Negative Abſtraction. For on what I had ſaid, That the Imagination could conceive an80 Accident without taking heed of others, and that it was called a Negative Abſtraction, he ſays, That that may be done without a Negation, and that 'tis not to ſpeak according to the terms of Art to call it ſo.
But beſides that, after I had explicated my ſelf what I underſtood by that word, and that it was lawful for me to call it what I would, I could anſwer him, That he makes me ſuſpect that all terms of Art are not known to him, and that he hath never heard of certain things which the Schools ſay are every way Negatively. Or this term, as well as that of Negative Abſtraction, although it imports not a direct Negation, yet it marks an oblique and indirect one. In effect, when we ſay that the Imagination conceives one thing, without taking notice of another, we indirectly deſign the Negation of the things which we minded not.
But let us forbear theſe Whimſies, and ask M.C. if after we have made the defects of the objections he hath produced appear, he will believe, That there was any temerity in me to maintain, That the Imagination of Beaſts makes Propoſitions. And if he fears not left this reproach ſhould juſtly fall on him, having made ſo much noiſe, and to ſo little purpoſe, when he would triumph after having ſo ill defended himſelf; Certainly if he ſucceed not better hereafter, I well perceive that he will have a great ſhare of the glory I ſhall have to have ſhewed, That Beaſts reaſon; the weakneſs of his Diſcourſe being at capable to perſwade this Truth, as is the force of mine.
AS the Propoſition is gathering together of divers ſimple Conceptions; Diſcourſe alſo is of divers Propoſitions which are tyed together by common terms; ſo that if the Imagination can make Propoſitions, it is a great prejudication that it may alſo make Diſcourſes; ſuppoſing that it may uſe common terms to link them together. After having therefore ſhewed in the precedent Chapter, that ſhe can make Propoſitions, we muſt now prove how ſhe can uſe thoſe common terms for from thence it will neceſſarily follow that ſhe can reaſon and paſs from a more known thing to that which is leſs, ſo that the knowledge of the firſt is the cauſe of that it acquires afterwards;82 wherein we will have the Nature of Ratiocination to conſiſt.
The images confound not themſelves.To this purpoſe we have made it appear, that when divers images united themſelves in the Soul, they do not ſo confound themſelves but that they ſtill keep their Natural diſtinction, and that therein they are like the viſible Species, which unite themſelves in the air without confuſion, and gather themſelves again, if we may ſo ſay, even to a point without breaking the order and the natural diſtinction which they have. So that to ſpeak properly, the imagination rather joyns the fantaſms, then unites them; for ſhe ranks and placeth them without mixing them, aſſembles them without confounding them, and making a whole of divers different parts, it leaves every one in its order, and in its particular determination; this being preſuppoſed, ſince the Imagination, even by the conſent of our advirſaries may conſider one accident of a thing without heeding the reſt, and may ſtop at what is ſweet, without minding what is white. The imagination may take the one after the other, and unite them together.It may alſo conſider what is white, without thinking on what is ſweet. And conſequently ſhe may ſeparately know all the Images which are united and joyned together. Now if ſhe can unite two different Images, as we have ſhewed, ſhe may reſemble thoſe ſhe had ſeparately conceived, and form as many ſeveral Propoſitions as ſhe can make ſeveral unions, ſince the Propoſition is nothing elſe but the union it makes of two ſimple conceptions: For having conceived a thing which is white, ſoft, ſweet, and good83 to eat; ſhe may ſtop at the white, at the ſoft, at the ſweet, at the good to eat, without conſidering them all together; and in the power ſhe hath to unite Images, ſhe may alſo aſſemble the white with the ſoft, and the ſoft with the ſweet, and the ſweet with what is good to eat, and in purſuit joyn the former with the latter, there being no more reaſon why ſhe ſhould unite the white with the ſoft, then the white with that which is good to eat. In a word, ſhe may make as many Propoſitions, and afterwards return on her firſt Notion, to unite it with the laſt, in which the Nature of Reaſoning conſiſts, as we ſhall more amply ſhew hereafter.
Now if ſhe be capable of theſe actions, ſhe without doubt forms a Diſcourſe which we call Gradation, and even a perfect Syllogiſm ▪Example of the Syllogiſm which the Imagination makes. if we cut off one Propoſition, as it often happens; For ſhe makes three Propoſitions. The firſt of which is linked to the ſecond by a common term; to wit, the ſweet, and the laſt with the two others by that of white, and by that of good to eat, as may be here ſeen:
But beſides the concatenation of theſe Propoſitions if it were belonging to the eſſence of Ratiocination to paſs from a known thing to one unknown;The Imagination goes from a known thing to an unknown. it is certain, that the Imagination makes the ſame progreſs84 in theſe encounters, for it inſtantly knows not that this White is good to eat but only after it knows that it is ſweet, and that what's Sweet is good to eat: In effect, when a Dog ſees a white thing, although he may come to it to eat it yet he eats it not till he hath firſt ſmelt and taſted it, which is an evident ſign that he doth not certainly know that this white thing is good to eat, untill he paſs over the other qualities which give him a perfect knowledge thereof; and certainly if a man would conſider the different connection which ſenſible accidents have with the nature of the things, and that the ſavour for example hath more with the goodneſs of aliments, then the odor or the colour, he will be obliged to confeſs that of neceſſity the Imagination muſt often paſs from a known thing to that which is leſs ſo, and conſequently that ſhe makes ſeveral judgments which have the ſame concatenation and progreſs which the true Syllogiſmes require, and which make her know theſe things ſhe was unaſſured of by others, which are more evident.
The Reaſon which we have here ſomewhat more extended then it was in our former Diſcourſe hath been confined by the ſeveral Experiments which reign almoſt in all the actions of Animals.
The firſt Experiment is this, A Dog would eat ſomewhat which is hung on high, he conſiders it barks for it, turns and leaps at it, without getting it; at laſt he obſerves a place raiſed up whereby he may riſe to another, and thereby at laſt he may catch what he deſires. I ſay this cannot be done, but he muſt joyn the phantaſm of the place where he is with that of the firſt ſtep, and that with the latter and in purſuit with the thing which he would have: And that all this would85 be uſeleſs unto him, did he not reaſſemble the firſt Notion with the laſt. Since it is by that latter action that he knows the thing which he had before judged to be impoſſible was no more ſo. And therefore as this gathering together could not be made without joyning ſeveral Propoſitions with common terms, and without paſſing from a more known thing to one which was leſs, ſo there muſt neceſſarily therein be a true Ratiocination.
The ſecond Experiment conſiſts in the wilde beaſts uſe in hunting which they make againſt one the other, where it is neceſſary their Imagination muſt figure it ſelf means, without which they eaſily perceive they ſhould catch nothing; for they muſt then needs make a deſign to follow their prey And the difficulties they encounter oblige them to form another to uſe that wile without which they cannot catch it; And laſt of all, they have Wile with the Prize, which can never be done without diſcourſe, and any may eaſily judge.
The laſt Experiment which the order of our former Treatiſe hath obliged us to unto from theſe, to ſhew that Cuſtom and Inſtruction are never acquired without Diſcourſe, may here again take its place, as that which is deciſive, and which receives no valuable anſwer. It is then true that when we teach or accuſtom Beaſts to do any thing, by the careſſes or by the menaces we uſe; and after that the remembrance they have thereof engageth them to do the ſame thing which they have been taught: the Imagination muſt needs reaſon thus, That ſince ſuch a thing hath at ſome other times cauſed them good or ill, that which preſents it ſelf being alike, ought alſo to cauſe86 the ſame effect: For the images of the blows they received are different from thoſe which the imagination forms at that time, ſince theſe are of paſt things, & thoſe are of preſent and future; ſo that ſhe muſt unite the image of the preſent thing, with that of the paſt, which is known to it, and that by this ſhe muſt know that which is to come. And if this be not to reaſon, there is no reaſon in the world: And if it be a true Diſcourſe, there are but few actions wherein beaſts do not reaſon; all the difficulty which may be made, here is, To know whether the Imagination can know things paſt preſent, and to come. But if we conſider that Beaſts hope, that they fear, and that they deſire, there will be no way left to doubt of this truth, ſince theſe paſſions ſuppoſe the knowledge of the good or evil to come: For if they are capable to know this difference of times, which is the moſt difficult to know; the others which are more eaſie cannot be unknown unto it, the Memory being deſtined for things paſt, and the Sences of thoſe which are preſent.
Proof 4. Of the reaſoning of beaſts.We may yet add hereunto the proof we drew, to ſhew that inſtinct is ever accompanied with reaſon, ſince it confirms the truth which we eſtabliſh: For as the motion of the Appetite ought to procede all the actions of Beaſts, and that this motion is always advanced by ſeveral propoſitions, which are terminated by the operation, which is as the Concluſion, as Ariſtotle will have it: All theſe propoſitions which are lincked together by common terms, and which inſtruct the Soul in what ſhe ought to do, muſt needs have the form of a true reaſoning. In effect, before a Beaſt begins to do any thing, its neceſſary it ſhould know whether it be good,87 and afterwards that its feaſible. And laſt of all, That the practical judgement ſhould intervene, whereby the Imagination judgeth it ought to be done; in purſuit whereof the appetite ſtirs its ſelf, and cauſeth its organs to agitate; and to ſhew that theſe ſeveral Propoſitions are neceſſary in theſe encounters; beſides, what the common ſence teacheth us, 'tis that Doggs and Hawkes often ſee their prey without purſuing it, judging that they cannot take it, becauſe its too far from them; ſometimes they ſeem to doubt, and are apparently troubled to reſolve whether they ſhould purſue it or no. Now its certain, that ſeeing the Game, they judge it good; and that not purſuing it, they judge the thing not to be feaſible. So the concluſion which conſiſts in operation, fails for want of one of the Propoſitions as it happens in all true Syllogiſms.
Theſe then were the Reaſons which we thought we ought to imploy to ſhew, That Animals reaſon. For although there be an infinite many more, one part of which ſeveral great perſons have uſed, and which may be augmented by thoſe which men of Judgment may deduce from ſo rich and fruitful a Subject; we neither judged they could accommodate themſelvs to the Principles we had eſtabliſhed, nor to the ſhortneſs we ſought, nor to the belief we had that ours alone might demonſtrate this truth. We muſt now obſerve what hurts they have received from M.C. his Criticks, and whether they have been weakned by his aſſaults.
But in the firſt place I am obliged to ſay, That I have before me an Enemy very wiſe, and very adviſed, and who through the miſtruſt he hath of his88 own forces, uſeth all the addreſs of great Commanders, who gain as much as they can the advantage of ſun and wind, and amuſe the Enemy with light skirmiſhes, without aſſaulting him in front, and deciding the buſineſs by an equal battel. For beſides that M. C. thinks he hath Ariſtotle on his ſide, and that he hath oppoſed againſt us all the Laws of Syllogiſms; as if himſelf had ſeen the Chief of my Reaſons, he diſpoſeth them as he pleaſeth, and in a very ſtrange order he confutes my Concluſions, before he hath examined the Grounds; and for all Objections he hath produced only imaginary Inconveniences or Paralogiſms. In effect, in the 14 Chapter he treats the depth of the queſtion of the Reaſon of Beaſts: In the 16. he ſhews they make no Propoſitions: And at laſt he ſpeaks of the Knowledge of the Senſes, which is the firſt of all Knowledges. On the other ſide, he often unlinks a Reaſon from a Subject, or is affected to joyn it with another which is more uſeleſs. And the beſt I find, is, That as he imagined I ſhould have followed the order he keeps, he in many places accuſeth me of ſuppoſing things as not being proved, becauſe he had then ſpoken of them without remembring that I had demonſtrated them before. But againſt all theſe wiles, which loſe their name and effect when they are not diſcovered, we may here ſpeak in groſs to M.C. till we have conſidered them by denial.
The Rules of Logick destroy not the Reaſoning of Beaſts.Firſt, That neither Ariſtotle, nor all the Rules of Logick which he hath given us, doth not deſtroy the Manner of Reaſoning which Beaſts89 uſe; becauſe they are like two different States, which govern themſelves by different Laws. And if Ariſtotle have made thoſe which are neceſſary, whereby the Underſtanding forms its Diſcourſs; it is not but that there may be others for thoſe of the Imagination. I would have it granted as an indubitable Maxim, That no lawful Concluſion can be drawn from particular Propoſitions; and that the fourth Figure of Galen is uſeleſs, nay even faulty. But this takes place only in humane Ratiocination, which ever requires ſome univerſal Propoſition; and not in that of Beaſts, which can only be form'd from particular Judgments. If M. C. would have upheld the Conſequence he draws from what is ſaid in the Schools, he ſhould firſt have made it appear, That no Ratiocination can be made without ſome Univerſal Propoſition. For though he hath endeavoured to prove it, beſides that the Expoſitive Syllogiſm will always convince him he can never make but that this muſt be a true Syllogiſm:
And it's to no purpoſe to oppoſe, That it is in the fourth Figure. For were it true, this Figure would not be faulty in the Reaſonings of the Imagination, as we ſhall ſhew hereafter: And were it ſo, it would be always true, That a vicious Syllogiſm is a Syllogiſm; and a man cannot ſay, That he that reaſons ill, reaſons not.
In fine it's certain, That Ratiocination in it ſelf,90 and without conſidering the differences thereof, is a Diſcourſe which from two Propoſitions link'd together by a common term, inferrs a third. And as this may be done by particular Propoſitions as well as by univerſal, it's indifferent to the Nature of Reaſoning in general, for either the one or the other to be therein imployed. For if in Reaſoning there muſt be two things which convene in a third, and agree alſo amongſt themſelves; and on the contrary, this Agreeing is to be found as well in particular as in univerſal Propoſitions, as is to be ſeen in the propoſed Example, where the [White] and the [Good to eat] agree with the [Sweet] which is common to them. In effect, as this Agreement is grounded on a Whole wherein divers things are comprehended, and that there are two ſorts of them, to wit, the Particular and the Univerſal: There are alſo two ſorts of Agreement; the one which is particular, which ſerves to the Ratiocination of particulars; and the other which is univerſal, which ſerves to the general. But we ſhall more amply explicate this in the Examen of M.C. his Reaſons.
In the ſecond place I ſay, For what concerns the Order he hath diſpoſed my Matters in, although he thought he had done much for his own Cauſe to have tranſpoſed my Reaſons and my Proofs, and from the firſt ſtart to go about to deſtroy the Reaſoning of Beaſts, without having examined the Principles wherein I thought I had eſtabliſhed it; I fear he is to be reproved, that he hath proceeded neither with candor, nor with any good form.
91As theſe Reaſons are the lights which loſe or augment their ſplendor according to the ſituation they are given; It is certain, that having placed mine otherwiſe then they ought to be, he hath much weakned them; and that thoſe who will not take the pains to conſider them exactly, will not obſerve that vivacity and force they might have had in my diſcourſe. But the queſtion is, Whether he ought to have uſed this treachery? For although every man be Maſter of the Order of things he treats of, this in Criticks hath its exception, and principally when we take in task all what an Author hath written on any Subject; for then ſincerity and candor oblige us to preſerve the legitimate advantages it hath acquired in the diſpoſition of its Matters; and who makes him loſe them, loſeth alſo the quality of Faithful and ſincere. Nevertheleſs I would have M. C. defend himſelf from all his defects; yet I beleeve he cannot excuſe himſelf of that whereon he fell, falling upon my Concluſion without before having deſtroyed the foundations whereon it is ſuſtained. For whatever he may ſay againſt it, if I have ſufficiently proved, that the Imagination unites ſeveral terms, and ſeveral propoſitions, and that the bond which the Syllogiſm requires meets in this union; he muſt himſelf confeſs, that ſhe diſcourſeth in theſe encounters, and what reaſons ſoever he brings to the contrary will never abſolutely decide the queſtion, ſo long as mine ſubſiſt. All they can do is to render them doubtful, and to reduce us to the advice of Ariſtotle who will not have a man abandon a well-eſtabliſhed Opinion for ſome Objections although they were not to be anſwered.
92Certainly M.C: ought to follow the maxime of Conquerors, who never leave any place behind them which may hinder their progreſs or their return. And he who holds but the negative part, and who as he ſays himſelf is to this inſtant but a defender, he ſhould rather have denied my principles, and ſo have rendred all my conſequences vain, then amuſe himſelf to eſtabliſh uncertain things on ruinous foundations, and to propoſe inconveniency in thoſe examples I have deduced, from whence he can draw no univerſal Concluſion.
Again, if after all theſe great conqueſts which he beleeves he hath made, he had at laſt aſſaulted the Fort wherein I had entrenched my ſelf, he might finde ſome ſhew of excuſe; but when he preſented himſelf before it, he paſſeth forward, and ſays That it was not worth ſtopping at. For my part I could ſay as much of his Anſwers, did I not know that in what Van ſoever it be there is nothing which ought to be deſpiſed, and that even falſe are not uſeleſs in diſcipline; thoſe he hath given us here reſpect the examples onely, which we have demonſtrated that Beaſts reaſon: So that in ſome ſort we may ſay, that he had no mind to aſſault the body of our Army, and that his deſign only was to beat up a Quarter.
IN the firſt place he ſays thus, That when I ſuppoſe a Beast preſſed with hunger ſees a white thing, feels it ſoft and finds it ſavory, and after that concludes that this white thing is good to eat, I make him ſpeak a kind of Reaſoning which the Schools call Sorites, which beaſts are not at all capable of, ſince there are many men which cannot make them, having not breath enough to make ſo many Propoſitions, nor without confuſion to take again ſo far eſtranged a term; and that on the other ſide this way of arguing is very uncertain and captious.
I in a word ſhall anſwer this objection,That Beaſts may form a gradation. that when this form of arguing is led by the ſenſes as it is here, it's very eaſie to make, becauſe the preſence of the object hinders the confuſion of the Imagination. In effect, there is no man ſo ſtupid, who cannot make an infinite many Propoſitions of this kinde; for preſent him with but twenty things placed in order, he may ſay that the firſt is before the ſecond, the ſecond before the third: And after having thus run them over without any trouble, he may conclude the firſt is before the twentieth. On the other ſide, it is not uncertain in thoſe things which are confounded94 together, and as it were identified. For if the ſame thing be all white, all ſoft, all ſweet, and all good to eat; it is certain that one may aſſuredly ſay, that this thing is white, and that this white thing is good to eat. So that the Imagination going from one quality to another by means of the ſenſes, it can never be decided when it joyns the former with the latter. After all, as this form of Diſcourſe is not uncertain and captious, M. C. can conclude nothing elſe but that ſome one may be found which is uncertain and captious; but it follows not that this or that muſt be it. At worſt he ſhould onely prove, that Beaſts ſhould often deceive themſelves, ſhould they uſe this way of reaſoning. Which we ſhall willingly grant him, ſince no body beleeves they are in their judgment infallible.
He adds, That if one of the Propoſitions were cut off to make the Syllogiſm;
A man concludes nothing from hence becauſe its in the fourth figure. But he ſhould at the ſame time have told us what form he gives to this fourth figure, ſince all men do not form it after one manner; ſome contenting themſelves with the diſpoſing of the Medium; others would have the Concluſion thereof indirect; for if he beleeves it ſufficient that the Medium ſhould be placed quite contrary from what it is in the firſt figure, this figure is not faulty, ſince it proves and concludes on95 the ſame principle, and in the ſame manner as the former. It is onely uſeleſs, ſince in effect, its the ſame with the firſt, to which its indifferent for the force of the illation, whether the Medium be Subject or Attribute in the one of the two firſt Propoſitions. Now if this be ſo, the propoſed Syllogiſm is not faulty, and concludes directly as the expoſitive Syllogiſm would do in the firſt figure.
But if M.C. beleeves that the concluſion therein muſt be indirect, he deceived himſelf when he would have it that this Syllogiſm was in that figure; for to put it therein, the condition muſt be changed, and inſtead that it ſays, Then this white is good to eat, a man muſt ſay, Then this good to eat is white; I ſay yet more, had it been made ſo, yet were it not indirect, becauſe that to be white, ſweet, and good to eat, are here particular things, which are identified in one ſubject; and therefore one may ſay That this White is good to eat, and that this Good to eat is white, without being in danger to change the natural order which theſe things ought to keep amongſt themſelves; it is not ſo when there are general terms; for neceſſarily it muſt be that as they are ſuperior to the reſt, they keep the natural order which their ſuperiority requires; and when they enter into a concluſion contrary to that order, the concluſion is then indirect; in effect the fault which is to be found in the fourth figure where the concluſion is indirect; comes but from that the general terms, which naturally ought to be drawn from their inferiors, are not ſo in the Concluſion; now this reaſon ſuppoſeth that there are general terms and univerſal Propoſitions, and therefore it96 concludes nothing, if Syllogiſms are found in this figure, wherein there are onely terms and particular propoſitions. So that we may conclude that the defect we have obſerved in this way of arguing reſpects onely the Diſcourſe of the Underſtanding, and not that of the Imagination, where rules are a part and which is not ſubject to all thoſe Maxims which are drawn from Univerſal Notions. And indeed the Expoſitive Syllogiſm hath a place in all the figures, notwithſtanding the laws they obſerve for the univerſality of propoſitions.
But let us withdraw our ſelves from theſe thorns whereto M. Cs inadvertency hath led us; and let's ſee whether it be true, That there is nothing in the Concluſion of our Syllogiſm which is not in the ſecond Propoſition, as he ſays, whence he infers That its uſeleſs, and therefore that therein there is no Syllogiſm; The reaſon he brings is, That ſince before the beaſt forms the Concluſion of the Syllogiſm he judgeth that the ſweet which he holds betwixt his teeth is good to eat, he muſt of neceſſity eat it, becauſe knowledge is given to beaſts but to raiſe their Appetite, which is forced to move it ſelf by the firſt pactical judgement they make, and which conſequently gives them not the leaſure to philoſophize on uſeleſs Propoſitions.
And I for my part ſay, that M. C. hath not given himſelf the leaſure to philoſophize on theſe97 uſeful and neceſſary propoſitions: for there is not one of the reaſons he brings which witneſſeth not its precipitation, ſome being found ſo contrary to what he ſays preſently after, others being doubtful or falſe, and all of them wanting that ſtrict connexion, which makes good conſequences.
In effect, after having objected againſt me, that there is nothing in the Concluſion of the propoſed Syllogiſm, which is not in the ſecond propoſition, he ſays, That I had done better to have reduced it to this Enthymema, This White is ſweet, then its good to eat. But I would willingly ask him, whether in this Enthymema there is any thing in the Concluſion which is not in the Antecedent; if he grants it, there muſt alſo neceſſarily be in the concluſion of our Syllogiſm ſomewhat which is not in the ſecond propoſition, ſince the antecedent it like〈◊〉to the ſecond propoſition: If he denies it, how will he have me make an Enthymema which ought to be compoſed of two propoſitions? For although in courſe he hath condemned it, it is not becauſe there is nothing in the Concluſion which is not in the Antecedent. But becauſe it muſt be as he ſays, that the beaſt muſt know that all what is ſweet is good to eat. We ſhall examine this Reaſon hereafter. In the mean time, let M.C. if he can diſ-intangle himſelf out of the puzzle this Anſwer hath put him in.
To take the depth of the buſineſs we muſt ſee Whether truly there be nothing in the Concluſion of our Syllogiſm which is not in the ſecond Propoſition. Certainly if theſe propoſitions are different, for being compoſed of terms which ſignifie different98 things, theſe two are alſo different the one from the other, as ſome others which may enter into a Syllogiſm; ſince Sweet is the ſubject of the Minor, and White is the ſubject of the Concluſion: And that 'tis not to be conceived, that to be Sweet is the ſame thing as to be White, M.C. cannot with reaſon conteſt this truth.
But ſays he, That the Beaſt ſhould ſtop at the Minor without going to the Concluſion, becauſe that at the ſame time he knows that the white is ſweet, he alſo knows that its good to eat, and that he muſt neceſſarily eat it without having time to form the Concluſion.
And what! may he not be hindred from eating it? And in that caſe it is not true, that it's a neceſſary thing he muſt eat it, and that he may not have the leaſure to conclude. Without doubt M. C. hath confounded the Action with the Deſire; for it is certain that a Beaſt knows a thing ſweet; it commonly at the ſame time knows it good to eat, and then he deſires it at the ſame time: But it follows not from thence that he muſt eat it, and that he muſt not make as many different propoſitions as he unites different notions. Now the Notion of White and Sweet is different from that of Good to eat, and therefore the Beaſt makes as many ſeveral propoſitions of theſe three terms as it directly unites them. The ſtrongeſt difficulty and objection of M.C. conſiſts in this, that theſe propoſitions are made at the ſame time, and that diſcourſe requires they ſhould be made the one after the other. Whereupon we are to demonſtrate two things; to wit, That they are not always done at one time, and99 that it is not neceſſary for Diſcourſe that they ſhould be done with time.
For the firſt, It is certain that a beaſt may know that a thing is ſweet without judging that its good to eat, becauſe that if he judged it good to eat, he would deſire to eat it, and in effect would eat it, if he were not hindred. Now a beaſt which is not hungry, deſireth not to eat what he hath found ſweet, and conſequently judgeth not that it is good to eat; for ſince the ſenſitive Appetite is forced to move it ſelf upon the firſt practical judgment which the Imagination makes as M. C. ſays, and as its true, if this Beaſt had judged that a thing was good to eat, it muſt neceſſarily follow that after this practical judgment he muſt deſire to eat it, and by the ſame neceſſity that he muſt eat it, in effect, were there no hinderance; He may then know a ſweet thing by the judgment of the taſte, which cannot deceive him, and not judge it good to eat becauſe he hath no need to eat. Thus theſe two notions are not made at the ſame time as M. C. will have it, and therefore they may enter into the form of a Syllogiſm. Perhaps he may object againſt us, that the example we have propoſed, ſuppoſeth the Beaſt preſt with hunger that he had need to eat, and in that caſe that theſe two propoſitions muſt be made at the ſame time: But all he could infer from thence were that this example is not good, and that another muſt be produced, where theſe propoſitions muſt be made the one after the other, which would be very eaſie to do. Yet beſides what we might ſay, that this Beaſt before it was preſt with hunger might have known the thing was ſweet, and100 remember it afterwards when he was hungry without any new proof, and might then judge it to be good to eat, having before judged that it was ſweet, and ſo theſe two notions would not have been made at the ſame time; without amuſing our ſelves to anſwer theſe vain objections, we muſt make M.C. ſee, That it is not neceſſary to diſcourſe for the Propoſitions which compoſe it to be made at the ſame time.
Firſt, Should a man judge by the nature of Knowledge he might well perceive that ſo excellent an action ought to be made with all the readineſs obſervable in thoſe which are leſs noble then it, ſince that way of agitating is one part of its perfection, and the more perfect the cauſes are, the more readily they agitate. In effect, there is nothing on the Faculties part which hinders it from knowing in an inſtant, and its no leſs natural unto it ſo to agitate, then tis for light and colours who have no need of time to produce their Species. Experience evidently ſhews us this truth in the ſenſes, who know their objects at the ſame inſtant they repreſent themſelves unto them; for if to know things they muſt produce the images of them, it is neceſſary that knowing them in a moment, they alſo in a moment muſt form the images of them. But this appears not onely in the firſt conceptions of the ſoul, we will experiment it in the propoſitions, and in thoſe deſigns which it forms in an inſtant; and what we have ſaid of dreams, ſufficiently101 declares, that it needs not time to unite thoſe things which are different, and which have no other natural connexion the one with other. So that all the doubt which may ariſe from hence ſeems to fall on the union of ſeveral propoſitions, and chiefly when they compoſe a perfect Ratiocination.
But whoſoever would but conſult with himſelf, and mind but his own tboughts, he will eaſily beleeve that there are no things which follow one another with that ſwiftneſs, and that if there be any ſucceſſion amongſt them, its a ſucceſſion of order or of nature, and not of time. And if he will not truſt to his own judgment,2. Poſter. 1 de motu anim. and that he would know what Ariſtotles was, and he ſhall learn from him, that the Minor and the Concluſion of a Syllogiſm are known at the ſame time, ſince to know and to make a propoſition is the ſame things; whence we may conclude that at leaſt two propoſitions which have connexion together may be found in one moment. Now if this be true as the Schools aſſure us, its a great likelihood that the two firſt propoſitions of a Syllogiſm may be known in the ſame manner; ſince it ſeems there is no reaſon why the Minor and the Concluſion are known at the ſame time more then the Major and the Minor; thus we ſhall be conſtrained to confeſs that the whole Syllogiſm may be made at the ſame time.
But without making uſe of the force of authority, that of the following Reaſon may diſanul all doubts, and entirely decide the queſtion. Thoſe who exerciſe themſelves to diſcourſe on any ſubject102 finde ſo great a facility in it, that in a moment they ſee all the conſequences which may be drawn from thence, and as they ſay, know the Concluſions in the principles. In theſe encounters they of neceſſity muſt reaſon; otherwiſe it would follow that through the ſtrength of reaſoning, they ſhould ceaſe to reaſon. And then the habit which they had acquired of it, juſted to perfect their Ratiocination ſhould wholly deſtroy it, which would be a very ſtrange thing, and very ſingular, ſince all other habits do not change the Nature and Eſſence of their actions, and tend onely to render them more perfect and more accompliſhed: Now it would neither be to leave Ratiocination in its nature, nor to render it more accompliſhed to take it quite away, as it would undoubtedly happen if it changed to another kind of knowledge incompatible with it ſelf.
It's to no purpoſe to ſay That the Ʋnderſtanding which is acquired in purſuit is a higher and more noble action then that of reaſoning, and that for that cauſe the Angels reaſon not, having no other Knowledge then Underſtanding as that which is moſt perfect and moſt comformable to their nature; for from thence it cannot be inferred that the Underſtanding is not a true Ratiocination, but onely that it is more exquiſite, and that it hath not thoſe defects which are met withall in ours.
Of a truth, the time which we imploy to form them is no eſſential thing; tis an imperfection which happens to them, from the weight and weakneſs of our ſpirit, which hinders it from being able at once103 to penetrate the nature of ſome things, and at one view to ſee the ſeveral relations they have amongſt themſelves; but as by exerciſe and habits theſe defects are to be corrected; ſo this imperfection is to be taken away from Raticionations, and they may be found with that ſwiftneſs, that there can be no interval betwixt the Antecedents and the concluſions which are drawn from it.
To come back to the underſtanding; although it be made in an inſtant, it changeth neither the order nor the connexion which things have amongſt themſelves: Foraſmuch as ſhe makes known the firſt as firſt, the ſecond as ſecond, and ſo of the reſt according to the natural order they obſerve. Now this neceſſarily carries the diſpoſition and the kniting together which is in the Syllogiſm. Foraſmuch as if we know the connextion which the firſt hath with the ſecond, and that which the ſecond hath with the third, we muſt at laſt of neceſſity come to know the connexion which the firſt hath with the third, ſince its the effect of the precedent, and that the effect is ever poſterior to its cauſe in the order of nature, although it be not alwayes in the order of time. Let a man not ſay, that theſe things preſent not themſelves entire, and that its the ſame as with ſeveral objects which are ſeem at the ſame time; it being needleſs for the Soul to joyn them, and conſequently to make any Judgement or Diſcourſe upon them; beſides that theſe ſeveral relations and different connexions cannot be known without comparing of things, and that they cannot be compared, but that the minde muſt alternatively go from one to another to obſerve the mutual relations104 which they have together, which cannot be done without diſcourſe. That Angels Diſcourſe.It is not to be beleeved, that this high knowledge which is attributed to Angels ſhould be like the firſt notions of ſence, neither is it a ſimple conception or apprehenſion of objects. The order of Nature will have it, that if there be in us any faculty or action which is to be communicated to ſuch pure and perfect Spirits, it ought to be the moſt Noble, and the moſt Excellent: Now by conſent of all the Philoſophers the third operation of the Underſtanding is more Noble then the firſt; and therefore it muſt be that which is common to us with them, they muſt know all things by that: And I even durſt ſay, that all their knowledge is but a perpetual Ratiocination, becauſe they know not as we do, the things ſucceſſively, and by parcels; but ſeeing all at once what is in them, and obſerving all the relations they have one with another, its almoſt impoſſible but in ſo great a concourſe of different objects, and in the ſeveral Returns which their Underſtanding is obliged to make on them, but they muſt unceſſantly Reaſon; It ſeems even that this wonderful diſpoſition which God hath put through all the Univerſe, requires, That ſince thoſe things which hold the laſt degrees of Knowledge can never know their objects, but by ſimple and primary notions; thoſe which are in the ſupreme degree, and which are moſt perfect of all, ought never to know theirs but by diſcourſe.
I know well, that in the Schools there are thoſe which ſay, that Angels have no ſimple conceptions and apprehenſion, and that they know things by105 making Affirmations and Negations by a ſimple Judgment, which they call by Intelligence: But in this caſe they muſt either aſſemble or divide the Images of things, becauſe Affirmation and Negation cannot be otherwiſe found, but by the union and ſeparation of Images. Now if this be ſo, they muſt diſcourſe, becauſe that in the union of ſeveral Images which the relation and compariſon of things requires, the form and contexture of diſcourſe muſt therein neceſſarily be found.
However it be, that Diſcourſe which is thus made, is moſt perfect, and hath not thoſe defects which are commonly found in others, becauſe its made in an inſtant, and that all at once it gives the Knowledge of all the propoſitions which compoſe it.
But what! If this be ſo,A Syllogiſm which is made in an inſtant, goes from known to unknown things. the underſtanding cannot move from things more known, to known to thoſe which are leſs known, as we ſay its alwayes done in Diſcourſe; Certainly, if by the moſt known things, we underſtand that they are to be know ſome time before the reſt; its certain this progreſs is not made here where all are known at the ſame time. But if we underſtand that theſe things are by Nature, and by Reaſon more known, becauſe they are as it were the principles and ſum of the reſt, we muſt not doubt but that a progreſs is made from thoſe things which by nature are more known, to thoſe which are leſs: now univerſal things are by Nature and Reaſon more known then particulars, cauſes then effects; In a word, the firſt, then the laſt, although106 they may be all known at the ſame time.
But this is no place to highten the advantage of this matter. Its ſufficient to ſay, that if in this opinion there be any thing contrary to the common ſenſe of the Schools, it is that the Schools have not conſidered Ratiocination in its nature, but in its ſpecies; that it hath defined the gender by its differences, and that at laſt it ſtops at the moſt common way of diſcourſing which is obſerved amongſt men, without taking notice of any other, and without obſerving that the conditions therein required were defects, and not things eſſential unto it.
After all this, could not diſcourſe be made in an inſtant, its yet true that its often made ſo faſt, that its impoſſible to obſerve therein any ſenſible and manifeſt ſucceſſion of time: And there is no minde ſo heavy and ſtupid, which cannot make proof in it ſelf of the extream ſwiftneſs it makes uſe of to draw certain conſequences, and to diſcourſe of thoſe things which the Senſes and the Memory preſent it withall. Now I will take no other advantage in the diſpute I have with M. C. to ſtop his mouth, when he ſo often oppoſeth againſt me, (p. 137) The great number of propoſitions and Syllogiſms which a beaſt muſt be obliged to make before it ſhould carry it ſelf towards any thing, had it the faculty of reaſoning which we give it. (Page 139) That when it hath found any pleaſing object, his appetite provokes him ſo ſtrongly that he hath no leaſure to diſcourſe thereupon. And that at laſt the precipitation wherewith he agitates is incompatible with ſo many Propoſitions which we make him make. For if all this may be done in a moment, that is to ſay, in an imperceptible107 time, it is not to be feared but that the Imagination may have time to execute it; neither can it be contrary to the precipitation wherewith beaſts are wont to agitate. Yet will I not that all Propoſitions which they make on the ſame object are made at the ſame inſtant; I know they may ſee a thing long before they taft it, and after having taſted it, at the ſame time they will not have a deſire to eat it, although they find it good to the taſte, foraſmuch as having no need to eat, they conceive it not good to eat. But I pretend onely to ſhew by what hath been ſaid, that there are ſome which follow one another very readily, it being nothing neceſſary for a ſenſible ſpace of time to be betwixt them and others which are formed the one after another in length of time, as it happens in thoſe we make.
Lets return to the Examen of that Syllogiſm which hath given ſo much trouble to M. C. and defend him from the reſt of the aſſaults we give him. He therefore ſays, (page 126.The terms of this Syllogiſm are not Univerſal.) That all the terms which compoſe it are univerſal, and therefore that its impoſſible for beaſts to uſe it, ſince they are not capable of forming any univerſal notions.
Truely I ought to beleeve that M. C. hath a very ill opinion of me, to make me ſuch a boyiſh Objection, and to think to trouble me with a ſlight ſubtilty of the Schools, which is not able to ſtop the meaneſt Logitian. There is none but know, that the terms are common and general two wayes; either becauſe they may be applyed to ſeveral108 things, or becauſe they ſignifie a Nature which is conceived common to divers things; we may apply that of Sweet to all the particular objects, which the Sences judge Sweet, and yet for all that, without thinking that ſweetneſs is a nature common to all thoſe ſubjects; and that in this the Imagination uſeth it as all the reſt which are in the propoſed Syllogiſm. But in that ſenſe there they repreſent no univerſal Idea, and therefore M.C. cannot infer what he pretends. In effect were his reaſon good, it could not be that a beaſt ſhould know that a thing were ſweet, foraſmuch as the term of ſweet, as he ſays, is an univerſal term, which ſuppoſeth an univerſal Idea, whereof beaſts are not capable: If it be therefore true, that the Sences know what is ſweet, and that ſweet is not an univerſal term, ſince the Sences onely know ſingular things, why ſhould it rather be univerſal in this Syllogiſm, then in the Judgement the Sence makes of it! On the other ſide, when all the terms of Sweet, of Good, of Thing, ſhould have a more general ſignification and more tranſcendent then they have, they would loſe it by the reſtriction which the demonſtrative Pronoune gives them: For when we ſay This Sweet, This Good, This Thing, we figure nothing which is general or tranſcendent. But the mind commonly ſtops at the ſingularity of the thing which is expreſt by theſe terms.
To conclude, it is not neceſſary to know the general connexion of terms. He adds, That this Syllogiſm concludes nothing, unleſs we know, That all what is ſweet, is good to eat; and that if a beaſt doth not onely know this univerſal Propoſition, but alſo its univerſality,109 it cannot imploy ſweetneſs as a means to conclude the goodneſs of the Aliment. This reaſon was pleaſing to M. C. for he repeats it in the 132 page, where he very much inſiſts on the Knowledge which a beaſt ought to have of the univerſal connexion which is betwixt the ſweetneſs and the goodneſs of the Aliment, to conclude ſuch a thing good to eat.
Before we enter into the Examen of our opinions, we muſt both of us agree in one Truth which cannot be contradicted; to wit, That when a beaſt eats any thing which he knows is ſweet, its certain he will eat it; and that he would not eat it, did he not finde it good to eat; foraſmuch as nothing moves the appetite but what is good; and therefore he knows the connexion which ſweetneſs hath with goodneſs, ſince he findes not the thing good, but becauſe its ſweet, and that if it were not ſweet, he would not judge it good. The queſtion then is to know, whether it be neceſſary for him to know the univerſal annexion of ſweetneſs with goodneſs; or whether it be ſufficient for him onely to know that which is to be found betwixt theſe two particular qualities: And of neceſſity M. C. muſt take the one ſide or the other, unleſs he hath a deſign to commence a ſuit againſt Nature as well as againſt me; if he therefore beleeves that a beaſt knows the univerſal connexion of ſweetneſs with goodneſs, there is nothing hinders but that a beaſt my deduce the propoſed conſequence, and conclude, after having known, That a thing is ſweet, That the thing is good to eat, becauſe he knows, that all what is ſweet is good to eat. After this manner would M.110 C. fall into the opinion which we maintain, that Beaſts reaſon, although by another way. For we beleeve it ſufficient for them to know the particular connexion of ſweetneſs with goodneſs, to conclude that ſuch a thing is good to eat.
In effect, if it be true that they know the connexion which thoſe two qualities have with one another, as we have ſhewed; and that they can conceive nothing that's univerſal, that being above the material faculty, it's neceſſary they ſhould know the particular connexion which theſe two things have together: So that ſince they judge a thing good to eat, becauſe they find it ſweet, it follows that the knowledge of that particular connexion is ſufficient to make them conclude that ſuch a thing is good to eat, ſince that in effect they do ſo, neither are they deceived in their judgment. I muſt confeſs indeed that there is an univerſal connexion of ſweetneſs with goodneſs, which ſerves for the foundation of that truth which beaſts know; but its in Nature, and not in the Imagination which is not obliged to know it that it may certainly infer that ſuch a thing in particular is good to eat; its like thoſe who do things by rote; For what they do is conformable to the rules of Art, although they know it not, neither doth their ignorance hinder them from doing it as perfect as it could be done. So the Imagination knows not that all what is ſweet is good to eat, but onely that the ſweet is good to eat; and with this particular knowledge it as certainly knows it ought to eat it, as if it had a general knowledge thereof. Laſt of all, ſince what it thus111 knows is found true, what need it ſeek it any other way? And ſince Syllogiſms may be made of particular propoſitions which make a good concluſion, Why then may not that which it makes be good?
M.C. hereupon ſays, That from that, any ſweet thing is good to eat, it follows not that that is it.
Its true, and I confeſs that beaſts ſometimes deceive themſelves, neither did I ſay their Syllogiſms were demonſtrative. It is ſufficient if they be probable, and that commonly they make them to know the particular connexion which Nature hath placed betwixt thoſe two qualities; for by her they know that ſuch a thing is good to eat, with as much certainty as all other ſenſible things may be known. It is certain, they do not know that they know it; for to know a thing, and to know that one knows it, are two different things, although M. C. it ſeems hath confounded them. To know that we know, we muſt conſider the general Reaſons, and the form of reaſoning which we uſe; in a word, we muſt make a reflection on that knowledge which Beaſts are not capable of. But to know, and to know a thing ſimply, this is not neceſſary, and its ſufficient that the notion we have of it be like the nature of the thing which preſents it ſelf without examining the principles or the means whereby we know it.
After this M. C. makes me three great queſtions, and askes me, Who could have told me, That Beaſts did not eat before they made all theſe fair Diſcourſes; That ſweetneſs was not ſufficient to move the Appetite if the Imagination knew not that it were good to eat; and that it makes three different judgements from the two firſt of which it infers a third? But I ſhall anſwer in a word, It is reaſon told me ſo. And I wonder that having made him ſee it ſo clear and evident, it hath not preſwaded him the ſame thing. I have much more reaſon to ask who told him, That ſweetneſs is ſufficient to move the Appetite without its being neceſſary for the imagination to judge that the ſweet thing is good to eat? For no Philoſopher could have taught him this Maxim, nor could any Reaſon have engaged him in a Propoſition which deſtroys the firſt elements of Philoſophy. All the world is agreed that the Appetite cannot be moved but by what is good; and that therefore ſweetneſs as ſweetneſs cannot move it, it muſt be known as good; but alſo as good to eat, if the Appetite will eat it. Now the ſence knows not this goodneſs as M. C. confeſſeth preſently after, and therefore it muſt be the Imagination, ſince the Appetite affords no kind of Knowledge.
Certanly it will endanger thoſe which will perceive how M. C. hath abuſed himſelf with ſuch groſs errors; to be ſcandalized with the reproach he makes me, That I onely brought fair words to maintain my113 opinion, without having troubled my ſelf to uphold them with ſolid Reaſons. And perhaps ſome will ſay, that he hath uſed neither to deſtroy them; and as there is more trouble to build then to ruine, he hath done wiſely to have eſtabliſhed nothing, ſince he hath ſucceeded ſo ill in that which was moſt eaſie. For my part all that I can ſay in this encounter is, That he ought not to have contented himſelf to have learnt from all the men he had converſt with, That Beaſts did not reaſon. He ought alſo to have informed himſelf of the reaſons which they had to beleeve in; and boldly to have produced them for the defence of the Truth, for the reputation of thoſe with whom he had ſpoken, and perhaps for the inſtruction of thoſe to whom he hath not ſpoken.
But what? Could he have brought a better reaſon to prove that Beaſts reaſon not, then the experience which he hath made thereof in himſelf? he hath as he ſaith examined the actions of his ſenſitive Appetite, and after having found them all like thoſe of beaſts, He concludes very ſtrongly that in his opinion, That ſince his Appetite doth things without reaſon, and often againſt reaſon, that of Beaſts ought to work after the ſame manner.
I am raviſhed, that after having ſo often ſhewed that M.C. reaſons not where he thinks he reaſons, well, he gives me occaſion to make it appear, that he reaſons well where he thinks not that he reaſons And its there wherein I ſhall the more eaſily take the liberey to tell him that he deceives himſelf, and that the moſt part of actions which he beleeves to114 be without reaſon are made with a perfect Ratiocination. But he muſt obſerve that this Ratiocination is of his Imagination and not of Underſtanding. For it is certain, that in the moſt part of theſe actions which he findes in himſelf, and in all the Examples he brings of thoſe who are gowry or paralytical; the Imagination always reaſons after its own manner, and forms its ordinary Diſcourſes before the Appetite is moved. So that we may imploy for him and againſt him, The reaſon he objects againſt us and ſay, That ſince bis Appetite which is like that of Beaſts, operates but in purſuit of the Imaginations reaſoning, it muſt be the ſame with that of the Appetite of Beaſts: And by an inverſion of the ſame proof, ſince we have ſhewed that the Imagination of Beaſts reaſons before the Appetite is moved; it muſt needs be that his reaſons alſo before his Appetite moves it ſelf to any thing. Let him not wonder at the ſhortneſs of the time he imploys therein, he need none at all; and if he will conſider what we have before ſaid, he will know that the Mind is far more ready, and moves far more nimbly then he thinks.
And afterwards without doubt he will ſee, that he uſed precipitation when he objected againſt us; That Reaſon oppoſeth it ſelf to the motions of the Appetite, That this undertakes things which Reaſon would not undertake, and that Beaſts muſt be more reaſonable then Men, and their Appetite muſt be wholly ſubjected to Reaſon if they expected the Judgments and the Reſolutions from thence, before they moved themſelves to any thing. Certainly, before all theſe reaſons were produced, he ought maturely115 to have examined whether they could ſerve to his cauſe. For my part who judge them uſeleſs, I willingly grant them without any prejudice to mine, ſince the word Reaſon which he uſeth is to be underſtood but of humane and intellectual reaſon, and not of the Imagination wherein all our difference conſiſts.
But its to preſs a man too far who no longer defends himſelf; let us ſeek enemies elſewhere, and go to the releif of the firſt Experience, which we did produce to confirm our fundamental Reaſon.
IT imports that a Dog which would take a thing hung up on high,VVherein Reaſon conſiſts. whereto he cannot attain, after having obſerved an elevated place whereby he may riſe on another, and from thence catch the thing he deſires, ought neceſſarily aſſemble the fantaſm of the place where he is with that of the firſt ſtep, and and that with the latter, and the latter with the thing he would have: And that all this would be uſeleſs to him unleſs he reaſſembled the firſt notion which he had found with the laſt, ſince its that116 which makes him judge that the thing which he did beleeve impoſſible, was no longer ſo.
I have almoſt a mind to grant M. C. all that he here objects againſt me; for beſides ſome few lines, there is nothing in the three great pages which he imploys to confute what I have ſaid which ſtaggers the opinion I hold; and I even beleeve that the greateſt part of the inconveniences he finds therein cannot paſs for new proofs to confirm it. In effect what abſurdity Is there that a man who ſees a Ladder raiſed to get up on the top of a houſe, concludes before he makes uſe of it, that otherwiſe he cannot get up? Why ſhould he not aſſemble the image of the place where he is, with that of the firſt ſtep, and that with the ſecond, and ſo of the reſt? And after having made as many Propoſitions as there are ſteps, why ſhould he not joyn the first notion he had with the laſt, to conclude that he may clime to the top by the means of the Ladder? Its ſo far from any abſurdity that it is impoſſible it ſhould be otherwiſe done for the reaſons we have deduced in the firſt Chapter of this work. M. C. hereupon ſays, That we every day go up and down, without thinking on what we do, our reaſon being then wholly imployed about other things, and that therefore we muſt not figure to our ſelves that a Dog reaſons, when men who have a greater facility of reaſoning then Beasts do not reaſon.
But he is not awares that he confounds intellectual Reaſon with that of the Imagination, and conſequently can from thence induce nothing againſt me. I with him confeſs that our reaſon at that time thinks not on the action which we do,117 but I deny that our Imagination thinks not of it. For neither ſence nor Appetite can operate without it, and when we ſee the ſequel of the degrees, and how we clime them one after another, it muſt both conduct our eyes and our ſteps; Now I pretend that this cannot be done without reaſoning, but it is a reaſoning which is proper to the Imagination wherein the Underſtanding hath no ſhare.
For the reſt I ſhall not ſtop at what is purſuit he ſays, That the precipitation with which the Dog works in this encounter is incompatible with ſo many Propoſitions, and with the deliberation which Ariſtotle requires in theſe kinds of Diſcourſings. For we have before ſhewed, That all theſe Propoſitions may be made in a moment; and we ſhall have occaſion hereafter to make it appear, that he did not underſtand Ariſtotle, and that deliberation is not abſolutely neceſſary in theſe kinds of diſcourſings.
But I cannot ſuffer the conſequence he draws from thence to part without an examen, That the Maſon ſhould make as many Syllogiſms as there are ſteps in the Ladder did he aſſemble the images thereof, as I have affirmed, becauſe it gives us occaſion to ſhew what the action is, by which the Soul makes the Syllogiſm and to ſpeak it in a word. What the form and eſſence of Ratiocination is, of which Philoſophy hath ſcarce ſpoken, and which M. C. ſeems to be ignorant of. In effect, if to aſſemble the image of the firſt ſtep with that of the the ſecond, and that with that of the third, we ſhould make a Syllogiſm as M. C. ſuppoſeth he118 muſt needs beleeve, that a Syllogiſm conſiſts in the union of two Propoſitions, and that as many progreſſes as a man can make from one propoſition to another, there ſhould be as many Syllogiſms, or elſe he muſt have vainly propoſed as an abſurdity, that the Maſon muſt make as many Syllogiſms as there are ſteps of the Ladder.
Certainly as two ſimple notions make not a propoſition, and paſs but for the fi•ſt operations of the Underſtanding which is redoubled, two propoſitions likewiſe make not a Syllogiſm, and cannot paſs but for a ſecond operation which is repeated; and as many Propoſitions as ſhall be added a freſh will be but ſo many repetitions of the ſame operation, and will never take the nature and the form of a Syllogiſm, if that which makes the difference of the third operation with the ſecond do not encounter. Now ſince there is nothing in the Syllogiſm which diſtinguiſheth it from all other, collecting together of ſeveral propoſitions but the term Then, it follows that the term is the mark of the eſſ•ntial difference of the Syllogiſm, and for the particular action which the Soul makes to diſcourſe; For ſince the ſimple terms are the marks of the production of Images, wherein the firſt operation conſiſts. And that the word Eſt deſigns the union which the ſoul makes of divers images, wherein the judgment conſiſts, the word Then muſt alſo mark ſome action different from the two others,119 and wherein the form and eſſence of Ratiocination is contained. The queſtion therefore is to know, what that action is which is deſigned by that term. And preſently a man may imagine, that its the illation and induction which the Soul draws from precedent notions; But beſides that in all hypothetick and conditional propoſitions there is illation without diſcourſe; It muſt follow that the nature of Ratiocination is wholly ſhut up in the concluſion, becauſe that that alone contains all this illation. Some ſay that this word deſigns the cauſe of the conjunction of terms, and that the third operation is different from the ſecond, but becauſe it ſhews the reaſon of the conjunction of terms which is not marked in the ſecond: It being true, that when a man ſaith, Mans is viſible, it is not ſaid, why he is viſible, but when the word Then is added, we mark the cauſe why he is ſaid to be viſible, to wit becauſe he is reaſonable. Although all this is true, it is not therefore that wherein the preciſe and particular difference conſiſts which we ſeek; for the ſame inconvenience which is found in the illation is herein to be encountred. Since conditional propoſitions as well mark the cauſe of the conſequence, and of the conjunction of terms with the Syllogiſm. Since that in ſaying, if man be reaſonable he muſt be viſible, a man pretends to ſhew that he is viſible becauſe he is reaſonable. Now if it be true that one propoſition hath that of common with Ratiocination to mark the cauſe of the conjunction of terms, its certain that its not therein wherein we ought to finde the difference which diſtinguiſheth Ratiocination from the ſecond operation of the120 Underſtanding, adding that if the word Then deſign the cauſe onely, it will not make an action as we have ſaid it was neceſſary, unleſs they would have us ſay, That he makes the deſignation which the Soul makes it ſelf of this cauſe. But there is no likelihood that ſo noble and ſo great an operation wherein Diſcourſe conſiſts ſhould be reduced to ſo ſlight a thing as this laſt deſignation, which would be to be found even in conditional Propoſitions, as we have now ſhewn.
To diſcover then the force and ſence of a word, which how ſmall ſoever it be comprehends all the extent of our reaſon; we muſt conſider that when the Soul binds ſeveral Propoſitions together, it makes a progreſs from one term to another, and goes always forward without returning, if we may ſo ſay, on the ſame ſteps, and during its march it never makes a Syllogiſm, having no occaſion to imploy the word then: In effect, let a man make a gradation of as many Propoſitions as he pleaſeth; and for example ſake let it be of theſe five, as this is,
It's certain, that the four firſt have not the form of a Diſcourſe, becauſe the Soul goes out-right, and paſſeth directly from the one to the other. But when it comes to return on its firſt Notion, and that it unites it with the laſt, then it makes the fift Propoſition,121 wherein it imploys the word Then, which would be uſeleſs in all the precedent, and give to all the gradation the form of Diſcourſe. The ſame thing•s made in all Caregorick Syllogiſms, unleſs the Underſtanding joyn, as here it doth, the firſt with the laſt: But ſometimes it joyns the third with the ſecond, or the ſecond with the third, as in the firſt figure; ſometimes the third with the firſt, as in the ſecond figure; ſometimes the fourth with the ſecond, as in the third figure. For example in theſe two Propoſitions, Man is reaſonable, Peter is a Man, There are four Notions and to draw a concluſion, the Underſtanding joyns Peter which is the third Notion with Reaſonable which is the ſecond, and concludes, Then Peter is Reaſonable. So in the third figure, All men are Reaſonable, Some Men are Fools, the Underſtanding joyns Fools which is the fourth Notion, with Reaſonable which is the ſecond, and concludes, then ſome Fools are reaſonable, and ſo of the reſt. But however this collection be made, it's always true, that the Soul makes a return on its firſt Notions, and this Return makes not onely the laſt Propoſition where the ſoul ſtops and repoſeth it ſelf, but alſo it binds together the terms which were ſcattered and divided in the precedent; ſo that we may ſay the ſoul makes a circle when ſhe diſcourſeth, and moves conformably to her nature, ſince the circular motion is moſt perfect of all, and which belongs to the moſt excellent things. This return therefore is the motion which properly makes diſcourſe, and which diſtinguiſheth it from all the other actions of the Soul, and therefore it is that which the Term Then ought to deſign.
122Let it not be objected againſt us, That Ariſtotle puts not the concluſion for any part of the Syllogiſm, and then to this return which is onely found in the Concluſion, is not that which forms the diſcourſe, for Ariſtotle conſiders the Syllogiſm as a Logitian, as the Inſtrument whereby we attain Knowledg, in which caſe the concluſion is onely the effect thereof; And not as a Phyſitian, as an operation of the ſoul diſtinct from the two others, when he ſpeaks of it alſo in his Phyſicks, he expreſly ſays, That the Major and the Minor ſerve for its Matter, and conſequently the Concluſion of it ought to be the form and the principal part. And certainly, as the return of the ſoul principally appears in the Concluſion, for which reaſon it hath been called the form of the Syllogiſm, ſince the nature of Diſcourſe conſiſts in this Motion. But alſo as by this return, the ſoul retakes the terms of the firſt propoſitions, we may ſay that the form of the Syllogiſm is ſhed abroad through them, and that in that ſence it muſt be conſidered as a whole, every Propoſition whereof makes an integral part without which it cannot be entire and perfect.
The return of the Imagination is not a reflection.Yet muſt we not abuſe our ſelves on the word Return, as I perceive moſt men have done, who take it for a Reflection; for this to ſpeak properly, is made when the Faculty reflects on it ſelf, and on its proper action conſidering them ſeparated from their ſubject; and it's certain the Underſtanding onely can make this kind of reflection, becauſe it cannot be without abſtraction, of which the Imagination is not capable, but when the ſoul retakes123 an image, which it hath already formed, for to joyn it with another, it plights not on it ſelf, nor on on its knowledge, but onely on the effect of its action; thus there is no abſtraction, nor conſequently no true reflection. And the Imagination may as well make this return, as the Eye which having ſeen ſeveral objects one after the other may return to that which it firſt perceived; Whence we may draw this conſequence, That there is nothing in Ratiocination which ſurpaſſeth the ſo•ce of the Imagination, which is above the Soul of Beaſts.
It is time to return to M. C. who ſays, That the Dog judgeth not of the poſſibility of what he undertakes: Becauſe if it were ſo, he would not make ſo many leaps, and ſo many unprofitable endeavors, and would not ſtrive to take what the moſt ſtupid reaſon would ſhew him were too much elevated. And thence he concludes, that it is not reaſon which carries him to it, but its the object which draws him, and which moves his spirits.
As we ſhall hereafter have occaſion to ſpeak of this poſſibility, I ſhall onely here ſay that Beaſts as well as Men often deceive themſelves in the judgement which they make, and that both the one and the other do figure to themſelves things to be poſſible which are not ſo at all. But this hinders not but that before they are undertaken they make a judgment of it how falſe or deceitful ſoever it may be, as we ſhall ſhew. So that this ought not to oblige M C. in ſo extravagant an opinion, contrary to all the Maxims of Philoſophy, as that is which he ſeems to endeavour to defend,124 when he ſays, That the Object draws the Appetite and moves the ſpirits. For although this may be applyed to a moral attraction, as we ſpeak in the Schools, and ſuch a one as the Good and the End are accuſtomed to make: Yet in other encounters he well obſerves that he underſtands a Phyſical attraction, ſince he aſſures that the objects have an adamantine quality which ſuppoſeth an action of that kind; I would not therefore inſiſt thereupon: ſeeing he would not clearly make it appear what he thought thereupon. Let's therefore follow him another way, and ſee what endeavors he will make againſt the crafts which Beaſts uſe in hunting, which we are aſſured were the effects of Ratiocination.
Of the ſlights of Beaſts.CErtainly we may ſay of a truth, that here he oppoſeth ſlights to ſlights; and that he imitates thoſe Fiſhes which caſt abroad their ink to hide themſelves from the eyes and ſnares of the Fiſhermen; for to leſſen the ſplendor and evidence of a Reaſon, with which he ought to be convinced, he caſts obſcurity125 on my words and ſays, That all the difficulty to be found therein depends on the ambiguity of the terms of ſlights and of figuring. For my part, who uſe according to the common ſence they bear amongſt us, I beleeve unleſs a man were Dutch or Welch he can finde no equivoke in them, after all; if there were any M. C. ſhould have put them by, and afterwards have diſcovered the weakneſs of the reaſon which I have hid, as he feigns, under the ambiguity of thoſe two terms ▪
It alſo belonged to him to propoſe ſome of thoſe ſlights, even he ought to have choſen amongſt them all that which to him ſeemed moſt advantagious to me, that demonſtrating that diſcourſe hath no ſhare in it, he might render my reaſon uſeleſs. In the mean time he thinks himſelf ſufficiently ſheltred in ſaying, That if I had deſigned any one of theſe ſlights in particular, he would have endeavoured to have explicated them But what! ſince I deſigned them all, was it neceſſary for me to mark any in particular; and ſince I excepted none, ought he not to have judged that I did not beleeve there was any which did not ſerve for my cauſe, and that the firſt of them which he ſhould have defeated would have rendred my objection vain and deficient? Truly this makes me remember thoſe Fanfawors to whom the choyce of the combate was offered, and which afterwards excuſe themſelves on this, that that of the ſword they were not deſigned to, wherein they vaunt they would have wrought wonders. For my part I know not what there would have been which M. C. would have made in a particular examen; but I126 can ſay that in general he hath wrought no great ones, and that when he contents himſelf to aſſure us in groſs, That of all thoſe ſlights, ſome were the effects of inſtinct, and others of Memory and Cuſtom. There is nothing therein wonderfull, unleſs he forget ſome which are neither made by Inſtinct, Memory nor Cuſtom.
And that notwithſtanding his Induction is not compleat, yet he forbears not to draw an univerſal Concluſion; for ſetting aſide that Inſtinct, Memory and Cuſtom do not exclude Reaſon, as we ſhall ſhew hereafter; It's certain that old Hares and Foxes are more wily then the young ones, and conſequently they have particular wiles which they have learned from themſelves, and which cannot come from Inſtinct, ſince Inſtinct is a thing which is natural and common to all the ſpecies. This being ſuppoſed, when they firſt of all uſe theſe wiles, it's neither by Cuſtom nor Memory, ſeeing as yet they never have made uſe of them, and that we cannot accuſtom our ſelves to actions which we never did. Neither can we remember thoſe things which are quite new. We muſt then ſay that they come from elſewhere, and that they have no other form but reaſon, ſince its onely ſhe to whom it alone can be related.
Of the knowledge of time.AS the laſt of our Experiences which is drawn from the Inſtruction and from the Cuſtom furniſheth us with a moſt powerful proof of the Reaſon of Beaſts: It hath obliged M. C. to form, as it were a new body of an Army to combate it, and to afford it a whole Chapter for the pitched field; let's therefore a while obſerve theſe new enemies.
And firſt of all, I ſee M.C. ſends forth his Forlorn-hope; I call all that part ſo which he hath ſaid concerning Cuſtom in the pages 145, and 146. which nothing concerns the queſtion in debate; and after ſeveral faines which he makes to baffle what we have demonſtrated concerning the production and union of Images, at laſt he comes to the aſſault and pretends to ſhew, that the Imagination hath no knowledge at all of things paſt, preſent and to come, whereupon is grounded all the ſtrength of his Reaſon. In effect he well foreſaw, that if he granted that the preſence of ſome objects made ſome Beaſts remember paſt things, and made them expect the like from thence to come, he128 would be obliged to confeſs, that they reaſon as we may judge by what he hath ſaid of Fear, p. 155. for which cauſe he boldly denies it to be true, and made all his endeavors to prove that the Imagination knows no difference of time.
But to what purpoſe ſerve all theſe Reaſons, if the Experience we have produced convince them of error. All the world knows, and all the world ſees that Beaſts Hope, that they Fear, that they Deſire; and conſequently it muſt needs be that they muſt know future things, ſince all theſe paſſions are moved onely by the good or ill which is to come. Now if this be ſo, it's to no purpoſe to labour to ſhew that they can know no difference of time. Wherefore before we examine what he hath produced to prove this Propoſition, we muſt ſee what he oppoſeth to this experience, and what addreſs he uſeth to withdraw himſelf from ſo ill a paſs.
Firſt he accuſeth me, Not to ſpeak wholſomly when I ſay that Beaſts Hope, becauſe I have elſewhere written that to ſpeak wholſomly, there was none but Man did Hope, and that all other Animals had but a ſhadow of Hope, as well as of Reaſon; Whence he concludes, That ſince that time the actions of Beaſts have not changed their Nature; And that it doth not become a Philoſopher to make that paſs for a Truth, which is ſo onely in ſhadow and appearance.
Certainly it's eaſie to judge by this Anſwer129 that M. C. was very much puzzled here, and having no reaſon to deſtroy the Hope of Beaſts, he would charge his fables upon the Reader, and withdraw himſelf from the danger by making uſe of my words. But without reproaching him as he hath done me, that this kind of proceeding is not becoming a Man who ſeeks the truth, and that it ſmells more of the Sophiſter then of the Philoſopher; He will give me leave to ſay, that what I have elſewhere written on the ſame ſubject, is not here to be brought in queſtion, in which happily I may have been deceived; but to know whether it be true That Beaſts Hope, for if it be ſo, they muſt hope for the good to come and know future things .. Were I he alone who held this opinion, perhaps the contradiction which M. C. obſerves in my words, might render it ſuſpitious. But Ariſtotle, St Thomas, in a word, all the Schools are of that opinion, and there is no Philoſopher of eſteem who acknowledgeth not Hope to be in Beaſts, & the knowledge of the future in Hope. Even M C. cannot but be of that opinion,9. Hiſt. 1. 1. 2. q. 40. ſince he beleeves Beaſts are capable of Deſire; for Hope is only different from deſire by the difficulty we figure of obtaining the good which we have not. Now Beaſts may deſire a good which they may judge difficult to obtain, and conſequently may hope for it. M. C. muſt therefore confeſs the truth of this Experience, or prepare another Anſwer then what he hath produced, ſince it ſatisfies not the common opinion which hath no intereſt in the contradiction which he hath found in my writings.
But ſhould M. C. poſſibly have beleeved that130 true which I ſaid in another place in the Elogy of Hope, were contrary to what I here affirm? Did he not obſerve that it was a Rhetorical Diſcourſe, wherein we give more liberty to words, and wherein terms keep not to that ſeverity which Dogmatical Diſcourſes require? But what if he had ſaid, that to ſpeak ſoberly, true Philoſophers only Reaſon, and the reſt of men have but a ſhadow of Ratiocination, had he not made a Propoſition which in ſome ſence is moſt true? and would he not juſtly have derided thoſe who from thence would have induced, That other men did not reaſon? Doth he beleeve that when Plato aſſerts that all what is here below is but the ſhadow of things which are in their Ideas, did he then bel•eve there was nothing real or true? They are ways of ſpeaking which all languages have uſed to obſerve, how ſome things are eſtranged from the perfection of others; and it were to deprive them of their faireſt ornaments, and of their moſt ſplendent lights, to take away from them their ſhadows and their figures. When I therefore affirmed, that Man onely did Hope, and that Beaſts had but a ſhadow of Hope, I meant nothing elſe but that Human Hope was more noble and more elevated then that of Beaſts, and that in compariſon of that the other was ſo baſe and imperfect that it did not ſeem to deſerve the name of Hope, and had only the appearance and figure of it. But from thence to conclude that I was fallen into a contradiction, when I elſewhere ſaid, that they did hope, he muſt either be a very ill French-man, or a very ill Logitian.
For what concerns fear, there is no great difficulty, as M C. ſays, there being two ſorts of it; the one in effect is a Ratiocination, and a conſideration of what is not preſent to our Senſes, but which we infer ought to happen unto us; This is not to be found in Beaſts: But there is another which we call properly Fear or Fright, of which all Beaſts are capable; and muſt not therefore know what is to come; for we are frighted with preſent objects, and even with thoſe which are paſt, ſo as the Images be preſent.
I ſhall with M.C. acknowledge then two ſorts of Fear, and I hope elſewhere to ſpeak more fully of them then I can do here; but I did not mean to diſtinguiſh them as he doth, and to exclude the knowledge of the future from none of them, becauſe it were to deſtroy them and confound ſeveral paſſions in one. In effect, were the evil preſent, there would be no Fear, it would be Grief, Conſternation, or ſuch like. And M. C. of neceſſity muſt take frightfulneſs for a kinde or ſpecies of Fear, which it participates to all the nature of the Gender. Now Fear in general ſuppoſeth the knowledge of the evill to come, as all our Maſters and all our Books teach us; and conſequently frightfulneſs ſuppoſeth the ſame thing, ſince all what belongs to the Gender ought alſo to be in the ſpecies ▪ Certainly M. C. is herein far from the ſenſe of Ariſtotle and of his Sectaries who beleeve that to form this paſſion, the ill muſt not be to come, but132 even a man muſt not be certainly aſſured that it is to come, or that we have ſome hopes to eſchew it.
But what ſays he? we are frighted with preſent objects. Its true, ſo as it be well underſtood; for this preſence hinders not but that the ill we fear is to come; when we ſay, That the objects or the preſent evils cauſe frights, the words of Evil and of Object are taken for the cauſe of the ill, and not for the effect, which is the true evill. And in this ſenſe it's true, that the ill is preſent, and that ſtill the fright reſpects the ill to come; becauſe it conſiders the effect which that cauſe is to produce, which is properly that which gives the fright. Since did we not think that it was to produce its effect, neither would it cauſe that apprehenſion; ſo an enemy who falls at once upon us, a flaſh of lightning, a fantaſm, and all other things which fright and terrifie us, are but the cauſes of the ill which we imagine is to befall us; for although we think it very near (and it is that which makes the difference of a fright from all other fear) yet it's certain, it is not then ſo; and were it ſo in effect, it would not move us to a fright, but to greif, conſternation, or the like, as is already ſaid. On the other ſide, the preſence of the object is different according to the ſeveral powers to which it relates. That which is preſent to the eyes, is not always ſo to the touch; and ſo if it be true that a fright is moved by objects which are preſent, for as much as they are ſeen, yet it133 alſo hinders not, but that this fright conſiders the future, becauſe thoſe objects are not yet preſent to the ſenſe of feeling, for the preſervation whereof this paſſion is chiefly raiſed in the ſoul; for as Ariſtotle ſays, thoſe things which are formidable and which cauſe terror, are thoſe which may cauſe a corruptive grief.
What ſhall we then ſay to the example which M. C. produceth? Of a Man on the top of a Steeple, and who will be ſenſible of a fright in looking down, although he be not in fear of falling, being fenced about with a rail or wall; for if there be any fear, it is not an effect of his Ratiocination, nor of the knowledge of future. I ſhall anſwer in few words; Firſt, That M.C. ſeems to have forgot the ſubject of our queſtion, for as much as I did not propoſe theſe paſſions to prove that the Imagination reaſons, but to make it appear, that ſhe knows the time to come; and therefore the conſequence he draws, That this Fear is no effect of his Ratiocination, is to no purpoſe.
Secondly, He confounds according to his practice the Knowledg of the Intellect with that of the Fancy. For the aſſurance which this man hath of not falling, ſeeing the railes and ſafeguards which environ him, is an effect of his Underſtanding, which hinders not his Imagination from figuring to it ſelf that he might fall, & ſo conſequently that ſhe conſiders not the future; as ſhe is ſurpriſed at the ſight of a precipice, ſhe minds not that which ſhould reaſſure her; and the impreſſion ſhe hath received of it is ſo ſtrong, that notwithſtanding all the advice which the Underſtanding afterwards propoſeth, ſhe cannot134 contain herſelf, but ſuffers herſelf to be carried away with that Motion which ſhe firſt gave her ſelf. Even as it happens in others paſſions, which often raiſe ſome reſiſtance in the mind, which the ſuperior part affords it, although this fright therefore be vain and ill-grounded, yet the Imagination forbears not to do the ſame thing, which ſhe doth in others which are juſt and reaſonable, and conſequently ſhe conſiders the danger of the fall, as it were truly to happen. In a word, ſhe here repects the evil which is to come, as in all other kinds of fear.
So much concerning the fright, which preſent objects uſe to incite. It remains now to make M. C. ſee, that when paſt dangers come back to the Memory, and produce all the very ſame effects which fear uſeth to cauſe, the Imagination reſpects even the ill to come; for although in effect it be paſt, yet it conſiders it in the condition it was when it moved that firſt fright; Now at that time it was to come, and conſequently ſhe ſtill ſees it as to come. That this may be well underſtood, we are to obſerve that the Images of things is preſerved in the Memory with all the circumſtances, and withal thoſe modifications with which it's reveſted, when it enters into that faculty of the ſoul. So when we ſee an object a far off agitated with ſome motion, or ſcituated in ſuch or ſuch a manner,How paſt things are preſerved in the Memory, the image of this object remains in the Memory135 with the ſpecies of the diſtance of this motion, of the ſcituation which the ſenſes obſerved in it; and when we come to remember our ſelves of it, it again repreſents it ſelf reveſted with the ſame accidents. Now its certain that the differences of time are in the rank of theſe circumſtances, and when a faculty knows a thing which is to come, it with the principall thing conceives the difference of the time to come wherewith it is accompanied; and conſequently whether the Image of that object ought to be preſerved in the Memory, it muſt needs be with the very ſame circumſtance; and when it re-enters the thought, it therein preſents its ſelf as future; otherwiſe the repreſentation could not be juſt and faithful. It is not therefore to be wondered if thoſe who eſcape a danger can never again think of it without being ſurpriſed with the ſame fright it had formerly given them; for as much as having the firſt time known the danger, as an evil to come, and whereinto they were ready to fall, the image which they have preſerved therefore can repreſent it no otherwiſe then it then was; that is to ſay, as ready to come. And fancying it after that manner it ought to cauſe a fright, ſince its a paſſion which the evil which is ready to befall us is accuſtomed to provoke.
But what! A man may ſay, the danger is really paſt, and who hath eſcaped it is not ignorant of it, and therefore he ought to have added this circumſtance of time to the image which he kept thereof. And if he remembers it again, he ought no more to conſider it as a preſent evil, but as a paſt evill, ſince the image which repreſents it is modified136 by this difference of time, which is incompatible with that which is to come.
To this its to be anſwered. 1. That images have this priviledge, that although they repreſent contrary and incompatible things, yet they have no oppoſition amongſt themſelves, and may be compatible together, as both Experience and the Schools teach us; ſo that, that of the paſt, and future time, what contrariety ſoever they may ſeem to have, do not deſtroy one the other, and the Memory may preſerve them at the ſame time in one and the ſame ſubject.
2. That the circumſtances and the modifications which the Minde adds to bodies of a principal figure, are as ſo many ſeveral beds and different ſurfaces which ſhe applies the one upon the other. So that the latter altereth not that which was firſt applied, neither can any one corrupt the Miſtris figure which is therewithall reveſted. So when we firſt ſee a man who is ſet, the image of that man enters into the Memory with that circumſtance; and when afterwards we ſee him ſtand up, the Mind adds to the mans figure the latter modification without defacing the former; otherwiſe ſhe could never remember ſhe ſaw him fit; juſt ſo it is of the evil, which at firſt it judgeth is to befall it; for ſhe preſerves the image with the circumſtance of the time to come, and when it's paſt it adds to the image of the ill, the latter difference of time, without defacing the former: Now as theſe circumſtances do not confound themſelves in the Memory, but keep their natural diſtinction therein, the Imagination which may conſider the accident of a137 ſubject without minding others, may link it ſelf to that of the future, without minding the paſt; for example, if the object have any thing which is able to ſurpriſe or aſtoniſh the mind, as without doubt a great danger is; for the firſt ſight which the imagination hath, may trouble it ſo powerfully that it will ſtop at the firſt circumſtance, wherewith ſhe finds it reveſted, and may then ſee it but as it were to come, although ſhe may know it as paſt, did ſhe but afford herſelf the time to conſider the latter repreſentations which ſhe formed thereof. And its in this ſenſe what M. C. ſays is true, That ſhe would not be diſturbed with what is paſt, and was no more to happen, did ſhe know it as paſt. But it from hence follows not, That ſhe ſuffers the emotions of fear without having the knowledge of the future, as we have ſhewed.
I ſhall not ſtop at what he ſuppoſeth,Deſire reſpects the good to come. That the Imagination acts alone in thoſe examples which he produceth. Although I can ſhew him the contrary, it makes nothing to the queſtion. So that there remains almoſt nothing for me to ſay to maintain the proof we have drawn from the paſſions. For the diſtinction he placeth in the deſires, and all what he ſays in purſuit thereof, is uſeleſs in the point in hand.
Should I grant him, That a man of an amorous inclination needs no Ratiocination to kindle the deſires wherewith he ſuffers himſelf to be taken at the ſight of his Miſtris, no more then he who is offended to ſtir up the appetite of vengeance which takes him at ſight of his enemy; And ſo of the reſt of the examples138 he produceth. And that at laſt all thoſe deſires are the firſt motions, which depend not on reaſon ſince they prevent it. Should I ſay I grant him all this, what prejudice would it do to the propoſition I have made? I ſhould prove that the Imagination may know things to come; and to that end I produce the experience we have, That Beaſts deſire, which is a paſſion which ſuppoſeth this knowledge. Is there a word in all this diſcourſe of M. C. which deſtroys this proof: Inſtead that he ought to ſhew that deſire requires not the knowledge of the future, he witneſſeth that he demands no Ratiocination. But it is not that which is in queſtion; it's to change the Hypotheſis, and M. C. cannot avoid the blame to have fallen into that error of Ratiocination, which the Logitians call Ignoratio Elenchi. And if he could defend himſelf from it, it is ſtill true that he here confounds the Reaſon of the Underſtanding with that of the Imagination, ſince he cannot confeſs it, that when he ſays that the firſt motions do not depend from reaſon, and that they prevent it, that cannot be underſtood but of the ſuperior and intellectual reaſon; And therefore it makes nothing againſt me, who in all this diſcourſe onely ſhew, That the Imagination hath its proper and particular Ratiocination, in which the Underſtanding hath no ſhare.
But to go to the bottom of the queſtion, what ever may be ſaid, There is no deſire which ſuppoſeth not the knowledge of what we deſire, and it's impoſſible that it ſhould not be known as a thing which we have not; for did we beleeve we had it, and poſſeſs't, it would not provoke Deſire, but139 Love or Joy. Neither is this a Paradox, 'tis the common ſence of all the learned. And it's fruitleſs to oppoſe againſt it, That we ſometimes deſire things preſent; for in ſeeing them, we enjoy them not, and they forbear not to be abſent to that power for which we deſire them, as we have already ſaid of Fear. And therefore we may ſafely conclude, that ſince Animals Fear and Deſire, as M.C. himſelf confeſſeth its neceſſary they ſhould know the good and the evil to come; And if they did know the things in this difference of time, which is moſt difficult to know, we ought from thence to infer that they may know them in that of the paſt and of the preſent, namely being indued with Memory, which is deſtined for things paſt, and of the Senſes which judge onely of preſent objects.
This being well eſtabliſhed, all the reaſons which which M. C. brings to prove that it's impoſſible Beaſts ſhould know any difference of time, are uſeleſs. The truth of this knowledge is not to be doubted; and if there be any difficulty it's to know how this knowledge may be acquired: But the impoſſibilities which are found in the manner in which we fancy the things to be done, cannot be ſufficient to deſtroy the action and the effect, which by experience we are aſſured of. It were a ſtrange way of philoſophiſing to endeavor to prove that the Loadſton doth not draw iron, becauſe that the attraction of a body cannot be made by a ſimple quality. 140In the mean time M.C. uſeth herein no other means, and beleeves to have proved, That Animals know not the time, becauſe, as he conceives, there is no image which can repreſent it. But what? doth he pretend to know all the ſecret of theſe images? doth he know what it is, how they are formed, and how they repreſent the objects? What the moſt knowing have diſcovered herein, is but the leaſt part of what Nature hath kept hid from them; and although they are ſure that they are, and that they are ſerviceable to knowledge, they have reaſon to doubt of all the ſurpluſage which concerns them.
I would fain ask M. C. how he conceives that Motion is repreſented by the image which is preſerved thereof in the Memory; and how a thing which is fixed and permanent, can expreſs another which hath nothing that's ſtable, and is in a continual flux. For my part, I finde it as difficult to comprehend how Time may be repreſented by any image. And if M. C. grants that there is one of Motion, although he knows not how it may be repreſented, he knows not why he ſays that there is none of time, becauſe according to his opinion none can repreſent it; for there is an equal reaſon either to receive them for the one and for the other, on what we experiment, that the Imagination knows them both, or to refuſe them on this, that we know not how to repreſent them. But we are more nearly to examine M. C. reaſons; otherwiſe he would beleeve we meant to baffle him with theſe ſubtilties, and according to his cuſtom he might brag we had not anſwered them, what cauſe141 ſoever we had not to ſtop there for the reaſon we have already given.
The Imagination may know the Time paſt.
M C's firſt Reaſon is, That the Imagination knows the abſent ill without diſcerning that it is abſent, becauſe abſence hath no images no more then other privations; and ſo the Memory being unable to repreſent them, the Imagination which is a material Faculty, cannot know it.
There are ſeveral ways to anſwer this Objection. Firſt, M. C confouds here the paſt ill with the abſent ill, although they be two different things, ſeeing there are abſent ills which are not paſt; and if we apply theſe words to Time, as M.C. doth, it is ſtill certain, That to be abſent makes not the difference eſſential of the Time paſt; Becauſe the abſence is a privation which cannot enter into the eſſence of a reall thing, ſuch as Time is. And therefore the time paſt is not paſt, in that it is abſent, but its abſent for that its paſt. Whence you may judge that the abſence is but an accident which happens to Time; and that conſequently, the Imagination may know the time paſt, without knowing it to be abſent, ſince the time paſt is to be known by its true difference, which ought to be real and not privative.
But it may be demanded what the difference is, which may come to the knowledge of the Imagination? Certainly, if Time is the ſucceſſive durance of motion, or to obſerve the terms of the Schools, if it be the number and deſtinction of the parts of motion, as that ſome flow before and others afterwards, its certain that the number of the parts of142 motion which flow firſt makes the difference of the time paſt; Now there is nothing herein which the Imagination may not know; for the diſtinction and the effective number of things which are ſenſible may be known by the Senſes; So the Senſes may know three Men, three Horſes, becauſe Man and Horſe are ſenſible things. If it be therefore true that motion is ſenſible, as M. C. avows, the number of motion ought to be ſo too; and if the Senſes cannot know the motion without knowing the precedent parts, becauſe Motion ſpeaks Succeſſion; and who ſpeaks Succeſſion ſuppoſeth ſomething which preceded; of Neceſſity, the Senſes muſt know the parts which have flown, and muſt therfore know the number of the parts of motion, which did flow before the reſt. Now this is to know the Time paſt. Without doubt M.C. did not conſider the wrong he did his own cauſe, when the truth forced him to confeſs that Senſe knew Motion; neither did he foreſee the reaſon and the conſequence which we have now drawn from thence: But to give him ſatisfaction in ſome other thing, I ſhall grant him, that abſence is a privation and a negation of a being, ſo as he will remember the diſtinction we produced, pag. 72. where we ſaid there were direct and oblique negations. For by this means we may both be ſatisfied, he to find the propoſition which he hath produced to be true for direct negations which cannot be known by the Imagination; and I to have ſhewed that oblique Negations may at leaſt by accident be thereby known. Thus we may together judge, that the Imagination knows not the abſence and the privation which happens to Time143 paſt; But it knows the Time paſt deprived of the abſent thing, to wit of the Time preſent. And that by ſeparating the image of the preſent, with that of the time which is run away, it by accident knows, that is to ſay by this ſeparation, that the time paſt is diſtinct and ſeparate from the preſent, and that conſequently it is not preſent; That in fine it forms an image of that oblique abſence, for as much as the ſeparation is a modification of the images, and that this modification paſſeth for an image, ſince it repreſents the thing ſeparate, as we have more amply ſhewen in the 73 and 74 pages:
M. C's. ſecond is, That the differences of time as abſtracted or joyned with the things have no material image which can repreſent them to the Imagination; and that as a Man can never ſay that the eyes ſee a ſoul, although joyned with the body, becauſe the ſoul hath no image to joyn with that of the body, its the ſame with the differences of time.
All this Diſcourſe is but a Paralogiſm which ſuppoſeth what is in queſtion, and compares things which are of ſeveral genders, and have nothing common amongſt them: The differences of time are ſenſible, ſince motion is ſenſible, and that the number of things which are ſenſible is alſo ſenſible. Now the number of motion makes the differences of time, and therefore the differences of time are ſenſible; and conſequently they have material images, ſince they cannot be ſenſible without having ſome kind of images; ſo that the Soul which is not ſenſible, ought not, nor cannot be compared with the differences of Time which are ſenſible. 144And M. C. could thereupon conclude nothing.
The thrid is particular for the time to come; for it imports That if the Imagination knows not the differences of time, but when then are conjunctive with the things, its impoſſible it ſhould know the time to come, ſince it cannot know with what thing it is to be conjoyned, for as much as it ought to be preſent; and if it were preſent, the time to be conjoyned to it muſt alſo be preſent; Being not therefore preſent, it can furniſh no image neither to the Memory nor to the Imagination.
Obſerve this for another Paralogiſm, which is grounded on the word Thing which M. C. underſtands of the material & exterior object, inſtead that it ought to be underſtood of the formal object, that is to ſay of the image, or of the thing repreſented; for when we ſay we know the differences of time conjoyned with the things, it's as much as if we had ſaid with the images of the things; otherwiſe the Underſtanding it ſelf could not know the time paſt, nor the future conjoyned with the things, for as much in effect, the one are no more, and the others are not yet: It's therefore true that the Imagination cannot know the difference of the time to come, unleſs ſhe have the image of the object, to which it adds this circumſtance. Let not M.C. inſiſt upon its being preſent, becauſe it's preſent as to the actual exiſtence, and not as to the manner145 of repreſenting. It muſt be truly in the Imagination to repreſent the thing to come, even as that of paſt things ought to be there, to make us remember that they be paſt.
But how can it be in the Imagination, ſince the object it repreſents is not yet, and that the copy cannot be before the original? Certainly we are not to beleeve that a thing which never was, and which hath not paſt through the Senſes, could ever be in the Imagination, neither that it could be known as future; the Senſes muſt formerly have made it known to make us judge that it's to come, and that to the image which the preſent, object furniſheth, the ſoul afterwards adds the circumſtance of the future time. Had the Animal never reſented blows, he would never fear to ſuffer thoſe to come; and when that happens his Imagination doth onely add the difference of the time to the image it formed thereof when it received them; or to ſpeak home, ſhe forms an image like to that which ſhe hath in the Memory, and adds thereunto the circumſtance of the Time to come.
There is more difficulty to ſay how ſhe conceives this difference of time; for although the motion be ſenſible, and that the number of the parts ought to be ſo too; it is certain that there is great reaſon to doubt, whether thoſe which are not yet run, and which conſequently as yet are not, may beat the Senſe which is onely touched by objects which are actually preſent. Yet this doubt may be ſatisfied by ſaying, that the word ſenſible is not reſtrained to the exterior Senſes, and that it alſo146 marks thoſe things which are known by the interior Senſes. Now the Imagination may raiſe it ſelf above the exterior Sences, and form to it ſelf Images, which theſe have not ſuggeſted. So it judgeth that food is good or ill, that a thing is a friend or an enemy, which are notions which the exterior Senſe cannot furniſh it withal, and which may be ſaid to be ſenſible, ſince they are of the reſort of the ſenſitive Faculty. As a man therefore is aſſured by experience, that Animals which fear and deſire, know the future; It muſt needs be that if the external Senſes cannot afford that knowledge which in their default the Imagination ſupplies, and that it adds this circumſtance of time to the object which they repreſent unto it; Which is nothing difficult for it to do, if we conſider that it may remember it ſelf of a paſt motion, and that by conſequence the image of that motion is preſerved in the Memory. For it muſt then be that this image repreſents the flux and ſucceſſion which was in this Motion, which being ſo, when ſhe ſees that a thing preſently moves, it may figure to it ſelf that it may continue to move; and in this continuation whereof it may form the image, ſince it hath the model thereof in the Memory are compriſed thoſe parts of motion, which are to ſucceed, and therefore it may know thoſe parts, it may therefore know the parts to come.
On the other ſide, if it be true, That time is nothing but the number of motion, as it hath parts, ſome whereof are before, and others after; it muſt of neceſſity be, that if the motion be ſenſible, as all the world agrees, Time muſt be ſo too: Since motion147 cannot be known but by the parts run out and to run; now to know them ſo, is to know the number of the motion, is to know Time paſt and Time to come, and conſequently the Motion cannot be ſenſible, but the Time muſt be ſo alſo. In effect, its the property of thoſe things which are in a continual flux, that they have no part which is not paſt or to paſs, otherwiſe there would be ſome one of them permanent, againſt the nature of ſucceſſive things; Wherefore all the Schools conſtantly hold that there is nothing actually preſent in Time, nor in Motion, but a point or indiviſible inſtant, which ties the paſt parts with thoſe to come; and to ſpeak exactly, there is no part of Time nor of Motion which is actually preſent.
But how then can the Senſes know them, for they can onely be touched by what is actually preſent; and there is nothing preſent but an inſtant, which being indiviſible cannot be the object of the Senſes. The School anſwers this, That the inſtant is not truly ſenſible of it ſelf, but that it is ſo by accident; and that in the ſame manner, as the points of a line are not ſenſible of themſelves, becauſe they are indiviſible, and are ſo by accident; to wit, becauſe they bind parts which are ſenſible of themſelves; the inſtant muſt alſo be ſenſible becauſe it binds ſenſible parts; otherwiſe if they were not ſenſible, that would be no ways ſenſible.
Let's then ſay, ſince there is nothing in Motion which is actually preſent but an inſtant, and that the inſtant is ſenſible, but by the parts of motion thoſe parts muſt be ſenſible: Now as they cannot148 be known but as ſucceſſive, and that as the one goes before and the other follow after; it muſt neceſſarily be that the time paſt and the time to come muſt be ſenſible, ſince the parts of motion as they go before and after, make theſe differences of time; and becauſe theſe parts are not actually preſent, and conſequently cannot touch the exterior Senſes, its neceſſary the Imagination ſhould ſupply their defect, and that ſhe alone ſhould not onely know the parts of Time, but even that of Motion alſo, ſince Motion is ſenſible, and that there is nothing which may touch the exterior Senſes.
But it may be ſaid, that I loſe my time to uſe all theſe reaſons againſt M. C. Let's therefore go no further, and content our ſelves to take him from the aſtoniſhment wherein he is, p. 153. For that no body hath placed time amongſt ſenſible objects, and that Ariſtotle was not adviſed to convince thoſe by Senſe who denyed the exiſtence of Time.
For the firſt, he muſt therefore remember, that when the genders of things are obſerved, there is no need to ſpecifie in particular all what is comprehended under them. Philoſophy hath placed Number and Motion amongſt the genders of ſenſible objects, and conſequently it was not neceſſary to place time in the ſame rank, ſince its comprehended in thoſe genders, and that in effect it's nothing but the number of Motion. So that we may ſay, that there is no body which hath not placed Time amongſt ſenſible objects, although149 no body have placed it for a gender amongſt ſenſible objects.
As for the ſecond, Ariſtotle needed not to convince thoſe by ſence who denied the exiſtence of the time preſent, ſince he beleeved it no more then they did; and it's from him that we have learned, that in time there was nothing preſent, but an indiviſible Moment, which is not truly Time: For as for the paſt Time and the Time to come, there never were any Philoſophers which have not acknowledged them, and there was therefore no need to convince them by the ſenſe of a Truth on which they were all agreed. And although Ariſtotle propoſed at the beginning of the Diſcourſe he makes Reaſons to prove that Time is nothing; yet are they not ſo to be taken for proofs whereon ſome have grounded their beleif, but for doubts which are uſually made before the Truth of things be eſtabliſhed, as his own proper terms witneſs,〈…〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. After all, had there been men extravagant enough to have had that thought, and that this great man had not by ſenſe convinced them, it would not follow that Time were not ſenſible, and M. C. who is not ignorant of the Laws of Logick, knows well that theſe kinde of conſequences are not receiveable.
We muſt here forget a fourth Reaſon produced by M.C. againſt the time paſt; although he hath unlooſed it from the purſuit of the precedents. He150 then ſays, Page 154. That the Senſitive Memory hath no Images but thoſe which it hath received by the Senſes, when the Object was preſent. So that never having had any of the Time when it was preſent, it cannot get thoſe of the future.
It is pitty this Reaſon ſhould not be good, having ſo fair an appearance; but by miſchance it happens that all it's propoſitions are falſe. For, for the firſt, Animals may remember Dreams and Chimera's which they formed in their ſleep in the abſence of objects. And as they are different from the things which the Senſes have repreſented unto them, it follows that the Memory wherein they preſerved themſelves, hath other Images then thoſe which it did receive by the Senſes when the object was preſent. On the other ſide, the modification of Images which depends from the Actions of the Imagination, ſuch as are Union, Separation, and the like, are not furniſhed for the exterior Senſes, in the mean while they form themſelves in the abſence of exterior objects, and afterwards preſerve themſelves in the Memory.
In fine, Beaſts remember whether things are good or evill, friends or foes, although the Senſes have not furniſhed them with the knowledge hereof, nor by conſequence with the Images by means of which they ſhould know them, and remember themſelves. To rectifie therefore M. C's. Propoſition we muſt ſay, That the Memory hath no Images but thoſe it hath received from the Senſes, or from the Imagination which may form them in the abſence of objects, the Senſe contributing nothing thereunto. 151But in this caſe his ſecond Propoſition is abſolutely falſe, and quite uſeleſs to our deſign; for the Memory may receive the Image of the preſent time, which the Imagination may have formed, although even it were not true, that ſenſe knows this difference of time; thus the Memory may have an image of the time paſt, ſince the Imagination furniſheth it with that of the preſent. Without doubt he will tell me, That Memory is onely for paſt things, and therefore that the preſent hath no place in it, otherwiſe it muſt at once be preſent and paſt. But there is no inconvenience therein ſince it's paſt as to the exterior object, and that it's preſent as to the Repreſentation; Foraſmuch as the images of the things which the Imagination hath known preſent enter into the Memory with that circumſtance of time, and this now repreſents them as preſent, although in effect they are paſt. And the ſoul muſt afterwards add the circumſtance of the time paſt to remember it ſelf that they are paſt. Bur we have ſufficiently cleared theſe difficulties in our precedent Diſcourſes.
There remains therefore nothing but the takeing away of one ſcruple which he hath on what is ſaid, That the knowledge of Time is one of the moſt ſubtile and moſt difficult that our ſoul is capable of, and which for that cauſe it was always reſerved to the Ʋnderstanding.
This ought not to ſtop him quite, ſince he well152 knows that the Underſtanding ſubtiliſeth on all the moſt ſenſible things, and that it conſiders them otherwiſe then the Imagination can. The entire and perfect knowledge of time comprehends many difficulties, which cannot be decided but by it; and after having learnt of the Senſes that time is ſomewhat, it's the onely one that can explicate what it is, and how far it can know it: For you are not to imagine when we ſay that the Imagination knows the time to come, that it knows the future through all its extent, nor all kind of things which are to come. This ought not to be underſtood but of thoſe which the preſent object bring back to the Memory, and which ſhe figures to herſelf ought quickly to arrive; as we may judge by the paſſions in which Animals have need of this knowledge. So when we aſſure that time is ſenſible, we undertake not once the Office or Function of the Underſtanding; and to give to the Senſes this ſmall knowledge, we diminiſh neither the greatneſs nor the elevation it affords its own, which we confeſs with M. C. to be one of the moſt ſubtile and moſt difficult of which it is capable.
After this M.C. concludes, p. 154. That Senſe ſufficiently knows the motion which is made in the preſent Time, but it knows not the Time wherein its made; otherwiſe there would be a ſenſible knowledge, which could not be made by the entermixion of Images. 2. That the Images of what is paſt are truly preſerved in the Memory: but that that repreſents not that it is no more, becauſe they cannot repreſent a negation of being. That in fine its a certain mark153 that the Imagination takes no conſideration of the time, for that the images of a paſt ill produce the ſame effect upon it, as if it were preſent.
Although all this Diſcourſe be but a repetition of the Reaſons which M. C. hath here before propoſed, and that we have already fully anſwered them: Yet becauſe he hath often taken my ſilence for a conviction, and that he hath beleeved in ſeveral places, wherein I would not amuſe my ſelf, for that they did not deſerve an anſwer, he had reduced me to an inability of anſwering him; I muſt not ſtay here without a Reply, and I ought at leaſt to make him remember caſes already judged. For we have ſhewed, 1. That the Imagination might form Images, which the exterior Senſes could not furniſh it withal; that the knowledge which followed thoſe images was ſenſible, ſince it proceeded from a ſenſitive faculty, and therefore that there was no inconvenience, that there might be a ſenſible knowledge, which need not be from the intermiſſion of ſpecies from without.
2. That the Imagination might repreſent to it ſelf oblique Negations, and that that was ſufficient to know that the objects were no more.
3. That all the differences of Time were ſenſible, and that even the preſent was ſo at leaſt by accident, whether this knowledge were proper to the internal Senſes, or whether it were made by the exterior Senſes. In fine, that the Images of ſeveral differences of time might be preſerved together in the Memory, and that the Imagination might conſider them the one after the other, that154 thus the paſt ill might be conſidered as preſent or as future; and that where it cauſed the ſame effects it had cauſed being preſent or to come, it was no longer as paſt, but as preſent or as to come.
Having taken away all theſe difficulties which ſtopt M.C. touching the knowledge which the Imagination hath of things preſent and to come: Its ſeems there is nothing more which can be oppoſed to the reaſon we have deduced from the Cuſtom and inſtruction which we give to Beaſts: For ſince preſent threats make them remember the blows they received with their firſt leſſons, and that the remembrance of thoſe blows which are paſt makes them fear thoſe to come, the Imagination muſt needs unite the Image of the threat with that of the blows which they have received, and in purſuit, that they joyn the image of thoſe blows, with thoſe others which they apprehend.
And truly I expect from M. C. ingenuity, that after having maturely conſidered all theſe things, he will finde ſome confuſion in his Mind for haveing ſo lightly condemned me of error and artifice in the moſt part of my Reaſons; for he ſaith at the entrance of the Examen which he makes of the precedent, That there is not in it the least appearance of Truth, and that whereas I do in ſome other reaſonings inſinuating errors by the means of ſome Truths; herein I have not uſed that artifice, but fight onely with Arguments in which there is not one true Propoſition to be found.
What! Is it not true then, that Beaſts remember the good and evil that's paſt? Is it not true, that they deſire, and that they fear thoſe which are155 to come? Is it not true, that the preſence of certain objects, having replaced in their Memories thoſe which they have formerly received, makes them afterwards fear the like? What will it be thought to conclude ill, that ſince they do all theſe things, their imagination muſt go from the one to the other, that it muſt unite images, and that it muſt form as many propoſitions as it makes unions? For my part, I muſt clearly confeſs to M. C. that if thoſe who ſhall be Judges of our differences can be of his opinion, I will ſet my ſelf to write as falſe againſt Philoſophy, againſt Reaſon, and againſt Senſe, and I will abandon them all as deceivers, which have abuſed us, and that inſtead of ſerving us as inſtruments for the knowledg of the Truth, they corrupt it and hide it from us.
But without running to theſe extremities into which there is no likelihood I ſhould ever fall, M.C. is to be excuſed of the ill opinion which he conceived againſt my firſt Work: I will indeed deal more civilly with him then he hath done with me; and that I may not altogether condemn him, I muſt confeſs that he may have found in my diſcourſe ſuch defects as may have ingaged him to that ſenſe, I having obliged my ſelf to render them the ſhorteſt I could poſſibly; there are many places wherein I ſuppoſe certain knowledges which muſt be had from elſewhere, or my Ratiocinations would be muſt ſtreightned; and in which I do but caſt the ſeeds of a great many inductions, which may be drawn from them. And without doubt that briefneſs did hide from M. C's eyes the greateſt part of the evidence and force of my reaſons,156 and hath made Truths appear unto him as errors, and order as the ſubtilties of a Sophiſt. But I ought alſo to beleeve, that after having corrected my ſelf for thoſe defects, and having taken away all thoſe obſcurities which he met withal by long explications, he will no longer accompt, as they ſay, Truth for Injuſtice, but will ingeniouſly confeſs that he hath maintained an ill cauſe; at leaſt, that I have not ill defended mine, and that my propoſitions are not ſo erroneous, nor extravagant, as he fancied them.
To continue therefore the deſign I have begun, I ſhall advertiſe him, That he ſhould not abuſe himſelf with the experiences he here produceth, ſince they are neither for him, nor againſt him. In effect, when he ſays that by them he will prove, That without reaſoning the Images of the Memory move the Imagination in the ſame manner, as if the objects were preſent; What can he thence conclude to my prejudice? Should I grant all thoſe experiences, they are but particular facts, which hinder not but that there may be others wherein the Imagination confers the preſent with the paſt, and from thence draws conſequences for the future. Beſides, that its eaſie to make it appear, that in moſt part of thoſe, he produceth the Imagination makes the ſame progreſs. For when a Child cryes ſeeing an object like to that which formerly had hurt it, it is157 fear doubtleſs which makes him cry. Now this paſſion ſuppoſeth an evil to come, and therefore the preſent object makes that Childe remember the evill it ſuffered, and afterwards cauſeth it to fear the like: And when it rejoyceth at the ſight of the Nurſes Breaſt, if it be from the deſire and hope of ſucking, his Imagination doth the ſelf ſame thing. If there be onely the remembrance of the paſt pleaſure which rejoyceth it, it's a fact no more like ours, ſince it reſpects but the preſent and the paſt; and that in inſtruction the Mind conſiders not onely preſent and paſt objects, but even thoſe which are to come. Its even ſo when the remembrance of a good tale makes us laugh, or when the encounter of a perſon who hath done us ill, gives us a ſence of averſion, becauſe therein there is no expreſs conſideration of the future. Yet let not M.C. for this imagine, that I beleeve the Imagination reaſons not in theſe paſſions, although it confers not the paſt with the future; it hath other means then that to reaſon; and if he will well conſider the laſt of my Reaſons which after this, I ſhall explicate, he will ſee That the Appetite is never moved but in purſuit of ſome Ratiocination.
As for the example of Caſſander, Who without ſhaking could not look upon the Statue of Alexander; It's certain, that this proceeded from the fear which the remembrance of that Princes anger moved in his mind, and that he then repreſented to himſelf the danger he was in at that time when Alexander was angry with him. That's to ſay, he ſtill conſidered it as ready to come. It therefore158 from thence follows not that the Ratiocination he made in theſe encounters was like that which is to be found in the inſtruction of Beaſts. When theſe hear a threat like to that which they have formerly heard, and which was followed with blows, they ought rightly to think, that ſince ſuch a thing formerly cauſed their ill, that which preſents it ſelf being like it, ought alſo to cauſe them the like ill. But there is nothing in the example of Caſſander which relates to this. Alexanders Statue hath not that reſemblance which was neceſſary to oblige him to conclude after that manner; it muſt have been that that muſt have been angry, that muſt have threatned, and that muſt have been capable to have done him harm; in this caſe he had had reaſon to think, that ſince Alexander had formerly done him ill, this Statue being like him ought alſo to cauſe the ſame ill. In fine, in the inſtruction of Beaſts there is always two alike cauſes, that which is paſt, whoſe effect is alſo paſt; and that which is preſent, whoſe effect is to come; and both the one and the other enter into the diſcourſe which the Imagination makes. But here there is onely the paſt cauſe which comes back to the Memory; and although the Statue be preſent, it enters not into the Ratiocination of Caſſander, it onely awakens the Notions which compoſe it. M.C. hath therefore very ill taken his meaſures when he compares theſe two reaſonings together, and very wrongfully endeavors to oblige us to beleeve, That that of Beaſts is not made as we have ſaid, becauſe we do not beleeve that Caſſanders was ſo made.
What he adds of the Scythian ſlaves, who after157 having overcome their Maſters in ſeveral battels, were at laſt routed at ſight of the whips, which were ſhewed unto them, when they were ready to reingage. It is ſo far from prejudicing my propoſition, that it confirms it, and ſuppoſeth that beaſts uſe the ſame form of reaſoning when they are inſtructed: For it's certain that this ſurpriſe made them fear, and that this fear was grounded on the ill to come, by the remembrance which thoſe rods gave them, that their Maſters had formerly chaſtiſed them therewith. So that they judged it fit, that ſince thoſe rods wherewith their Maſters were armed, were like thoſe with which they had formerly been beaten, they ought again to apprehend from them the like effect. And M. C. vainly labours to deſtroy this Diſcourſe, when he ſays, That if they had had the leaſure to reaſon and confer all theſe things, they had never bin ſo frighted, and that the firſt reaſonings they made was to condemn their firſt motions which are not ſubmitted to reaſon. For beſides that there needed but a moment for all this, he according to his cuſtom confounds intellectual Reaſon with that of the Imagination, as we have ſhewed him elſewhere. And there needed no other anſwer for thoſe panick fears, ſince he ſays, That it is the ſame as of what happened to theſe Slaves. But I will add that ſince it's the ſame thing, it follows that they are the effects of a true Syllogiſm; And that as the Ratiocination which theſe ſlaves made was apparently good, and had no propoſition which was evidenly falſe, it muſt of neceſſity be if what M. C. ſay be true, that it muſt be the ſame with that which devanceth all other panick terrors. 160Let him no more object the Syllogiſm he makes Caſſander make, that mans fear will never ſtrengthen his party, as we have now ſhewed; and if he would beleeve me, he ought to ask help from ſome other Captain who is more bold then this.
From all theſe rare experiences M.C. deduceth marvellous inductions, which having already ſatisfied, we will not ſtay much upon them. 1. He ſays, That in all theſe encounters its neither the preſent objects nor apprehenſions of the future which moves the Fancy. But we have already ſhewed the contrary.
2. That the Images of paſt objects reſiding in the Memory, the Imagination need form no others, ſince thoſe are ſufficient. All our ſecond part is imployed in conſuting this propoſition which deſtroys the nature of Knowledge.
3. That Images which can onely come from preſent objects, can alſo onely repreſent them but as preſent, and that they canaot be again communicated to the Imagination, but they muſt needs move it, as they had done formerly, the ſame cauſe ever producing the ſame effect. And that from thence it follows that the abſent object works on the Appetite as if it were preſent; and that as being preſent it ſtirs up the Appetite without imploying any diſcourſe, it may being abſent do the ſame thing. For this, we have made it appear that there are modifications which the ſoul adds to the images, which it receives from preſent objects. That the differences of time are of that kind, and that ſo a preſent object may be conſidered both as paſt and as to come; Whence161 it follows that one of theſe Images being again communicated to the Imagination may move the Appetite after another manner, then when at the firſt it entred into the Mind. And that afterwards it cannot paſs for one and the ſame cauſe, ſince its diverſified by a new circumſtance.
As for his firſt Propoſition which imports, That ſince the preſent object moves the Appetite without diſcourſe the aſcent may do the ſame thing. I ſhall willingly grant it him in the hypotheſis of the time we are in, ſo as the object be onely known as preſent or abſent; For if the Imagination goes from the one to the other, and chiefly if it draws conſequences from it for the future, we cannot doubt but the preſent and abſent object muſt move the Appetite by means of the diſcortſes which in theſe encounters the Imagination makes. Now it is certain that in all the examples which he hath propoſed the Soul makes a progreſs from one difference of time to another and therefore ſhe reaſons; and therefore all M. C's. induction is vain.
But wherefore do we ſo long inſiſt on thoſe things which we have elſewhere decided, and what can we do in repeating them ſo often, but as often we muſt afflict M.C. with the remembrance of his firſt defea•? Yet this is not generouſly to overcome him; we muſt ſpare ſhaming a vanquiſhed enemy, and not uſe him ill when he hath given up his arms. Let us therefore paſs to other matters, and without ſpeaking any more of all theſe differences of time wherein M C. hath loſt himſelf, let us ſee whether what he hath ſaid of the Cuſtom may repair his loſſes, and whether it deſtroys any of my propoſitions.
It is true that I have ſaid, That if one could do ſuch things which one were accuſtomed unto, without uſing reaſon; yet it's impoſſible to accuſtom ones ſelf thereunto without the uſe of reaſon. And that thoſe who ſay that Beaſts do things out of cuſtom, tacitly confeſs that they are reaſonable. To prove this, I have ſuppoſed that Memory was neceſſary to accuſtom ones ſelf to do any thing and that to reiterate the ſame actions one muſt remember ones ſelf of them, otherwiſe they would not be like, or at leaſt the firſt would leave no diſpoſition for the others to do better. That in fine it was an aſſured thing that in the common and ordinary actions which beaſts by cuſtom do, they at firſt remember themſelves of the good or ill which hath happened to them for having done them, and that without that they could not afterwards have accuſtomed themſelves to have done them again; On theſe foundations I have concluded that on this occaſion they have the ſame neceſſity of reaſoning which they have when they are inſtructed, becauſe they muſt needs unite the images of the preſent objects with that of paſt things, of which they remember themſelves, and from thence they draw conſequences for the future.
Againſt all theſe Truths M. C. oppoſeth two things, the one at the end of his 17. Chapter, whereby he pretends to ſhew, That Memory is not neceſſary for all kinds of habits; the other is at the163 head of the ſame Chapter, where he imploys a many examples to prove, That we accuſtom our ſelves to ſeveral things whereto Reaſon can no way ſerve.
Had I to do with a man who were content with a few words, I would in two words tell him, that all this makes nothing againſt me, and is contrary to his own ſenſe; That I ſpeak of the Cuſtom of Beaſts which requires the aſſiſtance of Memory, and wherein M. C. confeſſeth himſelf that it is neceſſary. And that without ſtopping at the reſt, its ſufficient for me that there may be any one found which may be acquired without it; Since that alone may maintain the induction which I made, and prove that Beaſts reaſon, at leaſt on this occaſion. But becauſe its a man who loves conteſts, and ſeeks a noiſe, I ſhall ſally out of my trenches, and enter the Liſts with him, were it but as they ſay for the Ladies.
Let us then ſee what the firſt aſſault will be: After having related what I have ſaid concerning Cuſtom; to wit, that it's formed by ſeveral actions which leave in the powers a certain facility of operating. And that this facility conſiſts either in a quality which reſides in the organs, or in a more perfect knowledge which the ſoul may have acquired by more expreſs images, which afterwards makes the ſtronger impreſſion on the Appetite, and on the motive vertue of the parts: and that its indifferent to me how the thing be done, ſo as we know that the memory is neceſſary thereunto.
He adds, That he findes almoſt nothing to gain-ſay in all that Diſcourſe. And for my part, I alſo164 find nothing to gain-ſay but that he therein makes me ſpeak barbarouſly; For although I do not h•ed his manner of ſpeaking; yet I cannot ſuffer him to give himſelf the liberty to change mine; and as the purity of language is the onely thing which he eſteems in my Diſcourſe, I ſhall have a very great care to preſerve it, ſince it hath had the honour to merit his approbation. Howſoever I am not ſo well pleaſed with his diſcourſe as he is with mine; for there is not one onely propoſition which I will not undertake to gain-ſay. 1. When he avers That its as indifferent to him as to me what ſenſe is had of Cuſtom, for if it be ſwelled ſpecies, &c. He confounds the facility of operating with the Cuſtom, without remembring th•t Cuſtom makes Facility; and that the Queſtion is not ſo much what that of Cuſtom is, but to know what that of Facility is. On the other ſide how can he ſay That its indifferent to him, ſince preſently after its no longer indifferent to him, having ſided with ſpeculative and practical habits.
2. He adds, That if it be a Species ſwoln in the Memory with ſeveral knowledges, it may be acquired by ſimple conceptions without reaſoning, &c. The Queſtion here is not of Reaſoning, but to know whether Memory be not neceſſary to Cuſtom. Thus againſt all the Rules of Logick he anticipates his Anſwers, and ſo runs to the Concluſion, without ſatisfying the firſt Propoſitions. Beſides that, if this thickned Species in the Memory may be acquired without diſcourſe, all Speculative Habits which he placeth in that gender, muſt needs be acquired without diſcourſe; on the other ſide, who165 can oblige to place the nature of ſpeculative habits in their images; for after that he muſt maintain, That all Habits are onely in the Memory, ſince theſe images are nowhere elſe preſerved: I omit all other inconveniencies which follow this opinion, and what M. C. ſays in purſuit of the acts becauſe it matters nothing to our diſpute.
Let us now obſerve the examples he propoſeth to ſhew that Memory is not neceſſary for all kinds of Habits: The firſt is of Children whoſe hands are held to teach them to write; for uſing to conduct them thus the habit it imprinted in them to conform themſelves to the characters they ſee, and this cuſtom is acquired without the Memories contributing any thing thereunto. Its what he ought to prove, for in fine children have a Memory, and it is not ſo eaſie to perſwade ones ſelf that they ſhould ſo often do the ſame action without remembring it. But what! ſays he, Children form themſelves to certain cuſtoms, before they have the uſe of Memory. It's what I ſhall deny him; they have indeed a weak one, but yet it's true that they uſe it, and that when objects ſtrongly touch it, they remember very well, as M C. himſelf hath made it appear, p. 148
The ſecond is of Porters, whoſe Memory is uſeleſs to them to accuſtom them to carry heavy burdens, becauſe, ſaith he, this ſtrength which is but a habit would remain when even they had loſt their Memories.
M.C. confounds here the habit of bearing burdens with ſtrength, although they be two very different things; ſuch a man may have the one and166 want the other, Porters may well have them both, but they have them by ſeveral ways; ſtrength comes to them from Nature, and habit comes from Cuſtom; on the other ſide, ſtrength is not in the rank of habits unleſs we ſhould ſpeak improperly, but it's a natural power which affords a man the vertue of acting, which habit doth not. But were it a habit, and that it might remain in a Porter after the loſs of his Memory, what induction could he thence draw againſt me; for I never ſaid that when a man had acquired a habit or a cuſtom, he had need of Memory, but only that it was neceſſary for him to acquire it; and for that cauſe that Animals cannot acuſtom themſelves to whatſoever it be without the help of Reaſon and of Memory, although it may be that they may afterwards without it do thoſe things which they accuſtomed themſelves unto. Yet for all this, I do not ceaſe to believe but that all true habits have need of Memory; and that who ever ſhould loſe it, would alſo loſe the uſe of all other habits he hath acquired, how perfect ſoever they were. But ſince I did not explicate my ſelf thereupon, why will M. C. divine my thought and find inconveniences in things which I never yet ſaid? Yet do I not inſiſt hereupon, ſince he at laſt remits himſelf to Reaſon and confeſſeth, (pag 159) That this faculty is neceſſary for ſeveral actions which Beaſts perform, and the good and ill which happens to them, remains in their Memory, and afterwards obligeth them to reject the ſame actions; for although he denies, that it is on the hope or fear that the ſame good or the ſame ill might happen unto them; It is very likely that167 after he hath ſeen the Reaſons which we have uſed to maintain this truth, he will preſently yeeld up the Cudgels. For my part, I find the proceedings therein held very equitable, and I very much approve the prudence he had, to expect till I had evidently made him ſee that Beaſts fear and hope, and that they confer the time paſt with the future, before he oblige himſelf to beleeve it. I even maintain that in the quality which he here takes of a Defender, he might in conſcience ſay, That there was no Ratiocination therein without being obliged to produce Reaſons to the contrary. And that if he did ſo, it was as he ſays, Superabundance of right, and out of pure zeal which he had for the Truth; But alſo this ſame prudence and this ſame zeal engage him to change his opinion, now he hath wherewithal to ſatisfie his doubts, and thoſe things which were obſcure unto him now preſent themſelves clear and evident. It's an advice which I give him for his own ſake; for he may well think that it concerns not me, and that what part ſoever he takes, my cauſe will neither be better nor worſe.
Let us examine the other point, where by new examples he would ſhew, That we accuſtom our ſelves to ſeveral things whereto reaſon is nothing ſerviceable. For it is here that he triumphs and flatters himſelf with the advantage he thinks he hath over me, for that I had not anſwered to thoſe he had formerly propoſed on the ſame ſubject; I confeſs168 I did not anſwer to them becauſe I ought not to have done it. And M. C. wrongs himſelf to make uſe of it, ſince 'tis a mark wherein he beleeves the deciſive point of the queſtion we have in hand is, without perceiving that its therein altogether uſeleſs. Nay I ſhall repeat it again. I pretend to ſpeak onely of cuſtom and habits in which he himſelf ſays, that Memory is neceſſary; and it's ſufficient for me if Animals have ſome one of that Nature, to conclude that they could not have acquired them without reaſoning, ſince they muſt have conferred the preſent objects with thoſe which were paſt and thoſe which were to come, as we have ſaid. So that if there were others in which this progreſs is not made, in good time be it; as I hinder him not, ſo it alſo hinders not my conſequence from being good and true.
But what, all theſe few Obſervations he hath made muſt they lye on his hands, without his drawing any advantage from them? no indeed, how ſlight ſoever they be, we muſt disburthen him of them, and at the ſame time ſhew him for what they may be good. Which I will not do as he doth out of ſuperabundance of right, ſince it matters nothing to our queſtion, but out of the onely deſire which I have to make him know the truth But we muſt firſt bring them to light that the Reader may know what we are upon, and that he may give judgment from the knowledge of the cauſe.
The firſt is, Of Children, who accuſtom themſelves to ſeveral things before they have the uſe of Reaſon. The ſecond is, From the ſtomack which accuſtoms it ſelf to certain means, and which regulates169 its hunger at certain hours. The third is, Of the Liver, which accuſtoms it ſelf to make the more blood, the oftener we are let blood. The fourth is, Of the fluxious which accuſtom themſelves to fall on certain parts. The fifth is, Of the external Senſes which acquire habits, ſome perſons having been found who have accuſtomed themſelves to the taſte of Woormwood, and to the ſmell of ſtinking things &c. The ſixth is, From the common Senſe which takes a cuſtom of ſleeping and waking at regulated hours. The ſeventh, the eighth and the ninth is, From the Memory. from the Appetite, and from the motive vertue which acquires habits; from all this he concludes, that it not neceſſary to accuſtom ones ſelf to any thing, to make uſe of reaſon. Since there is not one of theſe things which he hath propoſed, which is reaſonable, nor any of their effects wherein reaſon appears.
Firſt when he ſays, That reaſon herein is not neceſſary he intends intellectual Reaſon, ſince he acknowledgeth none other; and in that ſenſe I grant him all what he ſays; but our difference is not therein; it conſiſts to know whether the Imagination reaſons not in theſe encounters. In the ſecond place, he imploys the word Cuſtom, without obſerving the ſeveral ſignifications it hath, and indifferently applies it to ſeveral things, without telling us that it properly belongs to the one, and improperly to others, which yet were neceſſary to induce what he pretends; for I have reaſon to retort all his examples, in which this word hath not its true and proper ſignification. M C. ſhould have remembred that Cuſtom and Habit are active diſpoſitions,170 and cannot be properly applyed to paſſives, wherefore when they ſay, That a Man accuſtoms himſelf to heat and cold that the ſtomack accuſtoms it ſelf to certain meats, that ſome have accuſtomed themſelves to finde the taſte of Woormwood pleaſant, &c. This word hath not therein its natural ſignification, becauſe that in all theſe kinds of ſpeaking we mean nothing elſe but that we accuſtom our ſelves to ſuffer thoſe objects, and that the facility we finde therein is a pure, material and paſſive diſpoſition, which the uſe of theſe things hath left in the organs.
In effect, we accuſtom our ſelves to heat, becauſe the impreſſion of heat remains in the parts, and makes that what comes afterwards operates not ſo powerfully on the body, which is already imbued with that quality. It's the ſame with odors, favors, and other ſenſible objects; which by means of ſtriking the Senſes, leave a certain character in them, which renders the organs moſt like the objects, and the objects more familiar to the organs; There is not therefore therein a true cuſtom; No more then when we ſay, that a fluxion is accuſtomed to fall on ſome place; for 'tis but a paſſive diſpoſition which comes from the weakneſs of the parts which cannot reſiſt the over-flowings of the humors which caſt themſelves on them. Add That it is not the flux which accuſtoms it ſelf; for that which is fallen never falls again; But it is nature which commonly diſchargeth it ſelf on the weakeſt parts, or rather its thoſe ſame parts which out of weakneſs are more capable to receive thoſe ſuperfluities wiich they receive from elſewhere. However171 it be, theſe are manners of ſpeaking which are good for the people and not for Philoſophers. And beſides its in that rank you muſt place, The custom which the Liver takes to make the more blood in thoſe who are often let blood. For the Liver hath no more facility in making of it then, then when a man is ſeldom let blood. But 'tis by this evacuation that the parts empty themſelves, and that Nature labors to make the more blood to fill them. In fine, as we never ſay, that there is a true Cuſtom or any Habit in the ſeaſons, and in other inanimate things; although we ſay that the Winter is accuſtomed to be rainy, that the earth is accuſtomed to be fertile in ſuch places, &c. We muſt beleeve, that when we uſe theſe kind of ſpeeches for the natural actions of the body its figuratively, or by an abuſe; and that a man who cannot diſtinguiſh theſe things deſerves not to enter into the ſecrets of Nature, nor to take place amongſt Philoſophers.
After all this, if M.C. would opiniaſter himſelf to maintain that there is a true cuſtom in all thoſe obſervations which he produceth; Could we not tell him, that as they are all taken from Animals, they leave the ſuſpition that the Imagination concurs thereunto; and that therefore they are not performed without the Ratiocination of that Faculty. Certainly to have taken away all cauſe of doubt, he ſhould have made uſe of examples drawn from inſenſible things, as Stones, Plants, &c. Then there had been no more difficulty, & we ſhould have been conſtrained to confeſs, that Cuſtom needs not the help of the Memory and of Reaſon. But ſince all theſe parts which he ſays accuſtomed themſelves to172 certain things, are indewed with ſenſe, and that everywhere, where there is ſenſe the Imagination muſt agitate. Are we not to beleeve that they have accuſtomed themſelves thereunto by Knowledge, and that the images which form this Knowledge preſerve themſelves in the Memory, and make the ſoul remember the firſt actions, that it may afterwards perform the like, whence at laſt comes facility and habit? No, let not M.C. deceive himſelf, the Imagination and the Memory agitate not alone in the Head. Although they recide there as in their Throne, and there perform their moſt conſiderable actions, they ſpread themſelves through all the ſenſible parts, and perform often operations of which they give no knowledge to this principal organ, and therein imitate Princes, who act many things in the ſeveral parts of the State without communicating ought to their counſel. It's thus that ſo many ſentiments are made in the Members without our preception: It's thus, that the Memories remains in the fingers of a Lutheneſt after he hath forgot all his peeces. It's thus that the vertue formatrix forms the images it hath received from the Imagination, when it imprints thoſe wonderful marks on the bodies of children during the womens being with child, they neither knowing nor remembring themſelves thereof. But we reſerve to the third Volume of our Characters which we are about to publiſh, the full diſcovery of this truth. In the mean time let's conclude this unprofitable Examen of M: C's. examples, ſince we agree to what he intends to prove, to wit, That Cuſtom may be acquired without the help of Intellectual173 Reaſon. And that its very likely, that having well conſidered the proofs we have produced to ſhew that the Imagination reaſons, he will alſo agree with us, That the cuſtom he ſpeaks of can never be acquired but by the Diſcourſe of the Imagination.
THe laſt proof which we gave of the Reaſon of Beaſts was, That the motion of their Appetite, which ought to preceed all the actions which they perform, is never made, without being devanced by three Propoſitions. The 1. That the thing is good. The Second, That it's feaſible. The Third, That it muſt be done. And that theſe Propoſitions are linked together with common terms, and the one drawing its evidence from the other, they muſt form a perfect Ratiocination.
This Reaſon which we imployed to ſhew, that the actions of the Inſtinct are all made with Ratiocination pleaſeth not M.C. Firſt in that I ſuppoſe that thoſe actions are motions of the Appetite; and he ſays, That he is too knowing in theſe matters, and too hard to be perſwaded to beleeve it, without its having been proved to him; Yet for compliance174 ſake he will grant it, that he may make it appear, that the Appetite needs none of theſe Propoſitions.
For my part, I would not have him loſe the merit of ſuch an extraordinary civility, I here accept of the favor he doth me, at leaſt until we come to the Examen of the Inſtinct; for I then hope to make it evidently appear, not that theſe Actions are motions of the Appetite, having never propoſed that Propoſition, but that they were preceded by the motion of the Appetite. And how difficult ſoever it may be to perſwade, I am ſure to convince him by the firſt notions of Philoſophy, or to reduce him to that point as to deny them, and to fight againſt common ſenſe. This Article remaining then in ſuſpence till that time; Let's now obſerve what he oppoſeth to the reſt, Its ſufficient, ſays he, if the object he known by the firſt operation of the spirit to move the Appetite; for when one that is hungerſtarved ſees bread, his Appetite without diſcourſe is carried thereunto; and when we put our hands to the diſh our Imagination diſcourſeth not whether it be good. I cannot take it, I muſt therefore take it.
It ſeems, ſaving the reſpect which I owe M. C. he quits himſelf not well of his promiſe, for I therein ſee no proof which makes me know that the Appetite needs none of theſe propoſitions; and doth he think it enough to deſtroy a thing ſimply to contradict it without grounding it on any Reaſon, I ſaid the Appetite hath need of propoſitions; and he anſwers, That its enough if the object be known by the firſt operation of the spirit; He ſhould175 therefore have proved it. For what he adds, That when one hungerſtarved ſees bread, he carries his Appetite thereto without diſcourſe; cannot paſs for a proof, ſince its the ſubject of our difference and conteſt. At furtheſt M. C. cannot diſavow, that before the creature moves to any thing, it muſt be known unto it as good, and feaſible and he muſt propoſe in himſelf to do it.
Thus the queſtion reduceth it ſelf to this point to know whether it forms theſe Knowledges by Propoſitions or by ſimple Notions: Now it's reſolved by us both, That the Senſes do not know things as good and feaſible, becauſe they receive no image of the goodneſs, or of the poſſibility, and that that belongs properly to the Imagination which adds theſe Notions to that of the ſenſes; which for that cauſe are called in the Schools Species non ſenſatae. If this be ſo, the imagination of neceſſity muſt have the image of the goodneſs, and of the poſſibility, and unite it with that of the object to know it to be good and feaſible. And conſequently ſhe then makes affirmative Propoſitions, ſince to unite the Images, and make theſe Propoſitions is one and the ſame thing, as we have ſhewed in the ſecond Part.
It's there where he may find the Reaſons, which we had not inculcated in our firſt Work, thinking it the beſt way to treat with underſtanding perſons. There, I ſay, he ſhall finde them more inlarged, more clear, and in my opinion more forcible to perſwade him That I did not ſeem to prove, that the Imagination makes affirmatives, but that in effect I have ſolidly proved it on the Principles and Maxims of the Schools.
176Whilſt he is buſied in conſulting this Chapter we ſhall here obſerve, Whether he hath reaſon to be ſurpriſed, as he ſaith, That I ſhould perſwade my ſelf that theſe three Propoſitions make a Ratiocination: And whether he doth wiſely To defie all the Logitians to make of it a reaſonable Syllogiſm. Firſt, I might anſwer him in a word, that I never ſaid that theſe three Propoſitions made a Syllogiſm, but that they made a Diſcourſe, and a true Ratiocination. And as there are other reaſonings beſide the Syllogiſm; it's ſufficient for my deſign if I prove that Beaſts diſcourſe, that they make a Ratiocination without making a Syllogiſm. But what! M. C. when he makes an Enthymema, when he makes a Sorites, doth he not reaſon? Yet he makes therein no Syllogiſm, at leaſt which hath all the conditions neceſſary thereunto. On the other ſide, although a man cannot form an onely and ſimple Syllogiſm, of theſe three Propoſitions, yet a man may make a compoſed Syllogiſm, which is a true and perfect Syllogiſm. I confeſs that theſe three Propoſitions cannot aſſemble themſelves but they muſt contain four terms, and that three can but enter into a ſimple Syllogiſm; but this forbids us not but we may make one of the two firſt Propoſitions, and that the laſt to be added need not paſs for a new conſequence, which joyned with the precedent would make a compoſed diſcourſe of a Syllogiſm and of an Enthymema: Thus an Animal that would eat any thing may firſt have diſcourſed after this manner,
But I will not have this to be an entire Syllogiſm, and that he ſhould aſſemble as M C. ſays, the two firſt propoſitions in one, This thing is good and feaſible; and that he afterwards concludes Then it must be done. Will he not then make an Enthymema of three propoſitions; for it is certain that one propoſition copulative as that is, is worth a double propoſition, ſince therein is a double union; for ſo theſe three propoſitions would compoſe a true diſcourſe. And in this caſe M. C. was much in the wrong, To defie all the Logitians to make any Syllogiſm thereof, and to render them incapable to form a Diſcourſe which Beaſts themſelves may make.
But (ſays he) to conclude the operation, there muſt be an univerſal Propoſition made, which muſt affirm, That one muſt do all that is good and feaſible.
He is much miſtaken; the particular connexion of goodneſs and poſſibility with the operation, is ſufficient without having an univerſal, as we ſhewed in ſpeaking of that which was between the ſweetneſs and goodneſs of an aliment; for at laſt we muſt alwayes return thither; That the Animal knows the thing to be good, that he knows alſo that its poſſible as the Schools reſolves, and that upon theſe two knowledges he undertakes to178 do it; ſo that if a connexion betwixt theſe antecedent notions and the operation be neceſſary, and that the Beaſts muſt know it to act, it muſt alſo know it but as particular, ſince the Imagination cannot raiſe it ſelf to the knowledge of univerſal things. Its therefore uſeleſs to add any general propoſition to the Ratiocination which a Beaſt then hath, no more then in all the reſt which M.C. pretends ought to follow that.
For ſaith he, page 104. If we were obliged to perform this Ratiocination before we ſhould reſolve to eat any thing, we ought to make a ſecond before we bring it to our mouthes, and ſo a third chewing of it; and to chew it, one muſt make a fourth, to cauſe the motion of the Muſcles; and a fifth to ſend ſpirits thereunto. And ſo every ſtroke of the teeth, and every motion of the Appetite would require as many Syllogiſms and univerſal Propoſitions, of which the Imagination is altogether uncapable.
Should I anſwer M. C. but out of univerſal Propoſitions, which I do not admit in all theſe Ratiocinations, there is nothing herein but might be done; Perhaps he would be troubled to maintain the contrary, and it were to no purpoſe for him to ſay, that it were contrary to experience; for we ſhould eaſily grant him that it is indeed contrary to the experience of the vulgar, but not contrary to the experience of Philoſophers. Or rather we ſhould ſay, that it is not againſt experience, ſince there is none at all in it, for as much as they are things which few perſons have exactly conſidered; and as he ſpeaks in one place very judiciouſly, Books which have treated thereof furniſh ſo179 little help for the Examen of theſe kind of actions, that he cannot beleeve that any Philoſopher hath deighned ſeriouſly to think thereon:
If this be ſo, how could any experience have been made hereof? and if there be no experience thereof, how can i•be againſt experience? But I will not amuſe my ſelf to maintain things which I do not beleeve. In two words I ſhall ſay, That it is not neceſſary the Imagination ſhould here make ſo many Ratiocinations as it figures to it ſelf, or at leaſt as he figures to himſelf? Let it ſuffice, that commonly ſhe makes a perfect one for the principal action, which is the laſt ſhe propoſeth to herſelf. For all the reſt, which ſerve but as means to arrive thereto, the notions ſhe hath thereof are but as many conſequences and ſhortned Enthymema's, which are drawn from the firſt concluſion; ſuch as thoſe are which heat and precipitation of diſpute often oblige us to make in our converſations; Thus when a Dog would catch a Hare, he ought to know that its a good thing, and beleeve at the ſame time that he would catch it, and laſt of all that he muſt catch it; but to execute this deſign he knows he muſt run after it, that he muſt follow it ſuch a way, that he muſt caſt himſelf upon it, &c. So that after the firſt reaſoning which conſiſts of the aforeſaid three Propoſitions; every of the other which he adds is worth an Enthymema; and of neceſſity he reaſons ſo, ſince if he muſt take it, he muſt run after it; then he muſt paſs ſuch a way, and then he muſt caſt himſelf on it, &c.
Yet we ought here to obſerve, that thoſe actions which ſerve as means to attain to a principal end are180 of two kinds, for ſome are compleat, others are imperfect; the compleat are made by the Members, as when the arm moves, when the hand takes, when the foot goes, &c. The imperfect are made by thoſe parts which compoſe the Members, ſuch as are the Muſcles, the Nerves and the Spirits, &c. all the former come to the knowledge of the Animal which knows before he move himſelf, whether he ought to extend or bow a member, whether to advance or retire his foot; whether he ought to run, or onely to go, and ſo of the reſt; But the latter are altogether unknown unto him. For the ſoul knows not the number of the Nerves, and of the Muſcles, nor the particular uſe to which every of them is deſtined, although ſhe never deceive her ſelf in the choice ſhe makes of thoſe which are to be imployed, which is one of the greateſt marvels which is to be found in the Animal, as we ſhall ſhew in the ſecond part of this Work. This being ſuppoſed, we ſay that compleat actions which ſerve as means to one principal end are made onely by Enthymema's; but that the imperfect require none, becauſe the Imagination hath no knowledge of them, and we muſt therefore r•ce out of the number of Syllogiſms, which M.C: alledges, thoſe which reſpect the motion of the Muſcles and Spirits. On the contrary, whatever we have ſaid, that the Imagination makes no perfect diſcourſes, but for the principal action, tis to be underſtood when the means are eaſie, and that they have no difficulty or other circumſtance which deſerves to ſtop the ſoul from conſidering it; it otherwiſe makes the ſame diſcourſes for them, as for the principal action,181 as it happens in three Experiences which we have produced at the beginning of this Chapter. Thus when the Dog ſees that the courſe is not ſufficient to catch the prey, he uſeth ſlight; if he finds a ſtop in the way he conſiders, and ſeeks the means to ſurmount it; and amongſt all this, the remembrance of paſt things, and the expectation of thoſe to come, occupy his Imagination, and make him make at every moment the diſcourſes which we have before mentioned.
In fine, We muſt judge of all this progreſs in proportion to what paſſeth in our Minds, when we form any deſign and endeavour to execute it. For beſides abſtractions and univerſal propoſitions which are proper to the Underſtanding, the Imagination operates even as that doth. And as there are entire Ratiocinations which we make to undertake a thing, as amongſt the means which preſent themſelves to attain it, there are ſome which ſtop us, and others which are ſo evident, and ſo eaſie that we make uſe of them without examination: And as all this is commonly done ſo readily that it ſeems there are but moments imployed therein. We muſt alſo beleeve, for the Reaſons which we have ſo often alleadged, That Beaſts act in the ſame manner in thoſe deſigns which they undertake.
And now I beleeve M.C. will be glad to have learnt that he is twice more reaſonable then he thought, and that his imagination makes a number of reaſonings, of which he was not yet awares. For how ready ſoever the hand be to write, and the tongue to pronounce what it would expreſs; His Imagination ſtill goes as faſt as that, and beyond182 all the leaſure that is neceſſary for him by thoſe Ratiocinations which we have mentioned, to go before the motion of theſe organs. We may ſay its like a Painter who in a moment forms the Idea of what he would paint; but when he ſets his hand to the work, he muſt have days and whole weeks. Writing and Speech indeed ask not ſo much time, but ſtill there is an infinite diſtance betwixt the ſwiftneſs of the Imagination, and that of the Hand and Tongue, ſince that is to be done without any time, and this is ever done with time.
For the reſt, I would willingly conſolate M.C. Of the ſhame he had to ſtop at things ſo far from all appearance of Truth, were I certain of what things he intended to ſpeak; for I know not whether they are Objections which he makes me, or the propoſitions which I propoſed which have made him aſhamed, the one and the other being able to lead him into confuſion; in any caſe he ought to know that the ſhame to have failed is very good, but that which a man hath to learn is very bad; Let's therefore go on ſince this paſſion alſo hath that property that ſhe will not be ſpoken of.
In confirmation of what I have ſaid, That it was neceſſary that three Propoſitions in queſtion muſt precede the motions of the Appetite, I have produced the example of Dogs, and Birds of prey, which often purſue not the game they ſee, when they judge it to be too far off. I have alſo propoſed that ſometimes they ſeem to doubt, and are183 apparently in trouble to reſolve whether they ought to purſue it or no; and that in theſe encounters although the thing appear unto them good, yet becauſe they judge it not feaſible they undertake it not; the operation which is the concluſion being not to be done without one of the propoſitions, as it happens in all true Syllogiſms.
To this M.C. oppoſeth firſt, That if their doubt be but in appearance, its not juſt to make uſe of it againſt him; if it be true, it follows that Beaſts deliberate.
But I anſwer, That he here corrupts my words and gives them another ſenſe then they ought to have; There is a great deal of difference to ſay that Beaſts ſeem to doubt, or that apparently they have ſome doubt; and to ſay that their doubt is but in appearance; the firſt way of expreſſion excludes not the doubt, but the ſecond doth. And we may ſay of a man who is truly in wrath, that he ſeems to be in wrath, and that apparently he is angry. If it be then true, that Beaſts are capable of doubting, as we ſhall make it appear, they may in effect doubt, without our being aſſured thereof, becauſe we cannot clearly know their thought; but by actions they perform we conjecture that they doubt. And then we have reaſon to ſay that apparently they doubt, that is to ſay, That they appear to us to doubt: But not that their doubt is but in appearance, becauſe it may happen they doubt in effect, and that a thing which is but in appearance is not really.
But let us ſtick no longer in words, let us examine things, and ſee what the Nature of doubt is;184 for after that we may clearly perceive, whether Beaſts are capable of forming it. Ariſtotle ſays very elegantly, that he who doubts is like to a man bound, becauſe both the one and the other are reſtrained, and cannot go whether they will; this cannot advance forward in his way, and that cannot make any progreſs in his knowledge. In effect, when he findes that the objects are not clearly repreſented unto him, when he ſees reaſons and appearances contrary concerning the ſame thing; they are as many chains which ſtop him & hold him in ſuſpence that he knows not which ſide to take; and whilſt he remains in this neutrality, ſo long time he doubts, and is not aſſured of what he ſeeks. For which cauſe we may call Doubt a ſuſpenſion of judgement which cannot determine on the things propeſed unto it. Now becauſe that to judge is to unite or divide images; this ſuſpention cannot be conceived but as a reſtraint which the judicative faculty impoſeth on it ſelf in its function, the difficulty and uncertainty wherein ſhe is, not permitting her to unite or ſeparate thoſe images which ſhe hath formed. Yet muſt we not figure to our ſelves this reſtraint to be as a ceſſation or reſt; otherwiſe whoſoever would not know the things, and whoſe ſpirit were dull and without action, might paſs for a man who were in doubt. But it is to be conſidered as a motion by which the Mind reſtrains it ſelf, and ſuffers not it ſelf to be born away whereto it had a deſign to go. This is to be judged of proportionably to what happens to bodies that are heavy; when they are in their centre their weight agitates not, and they truly are at reſt; but when they are185 ſuſpended in the air, although they are there retained, yet they have a ſecret motion, and make always ſome endeavor to fall. It is even ſo with the judgment; when it ſeeks not the truth, its without action, it ceaſeth to operate, its at reſt; but when its ſuſpended, that is to ſay, when it advanceth not, yet this marks alſo the motion it makes to attain to its end.
However it be, this ſuſpenſion of the judicative faculty comes from the incertainty wherein ſhe is, whether ſhe ought to unite or ſeparate the Images. And this incertainty proceeds from that it knows not whether the things are or are not in effect, as ſhe hath propoſed them to her ſelf; But whence is it that ſhe knows it not? Certainly, there are many cauſes which contribute thereunto, and we need only conſult the Epoches of the Sceptick to find out that this defect hath divers ſources. Sometimes it happens from that the Senſes do not well repreſent the objects; for he that hath a weak ſight, or who looks on any thing through a thick air, or at too great a diſtance, hath reaſon to doubt whether what he perceives be ſuch in effect as his eyes figure it to be; ſometimes it happens from that we have not experienced the things, or that we know not the reaſon thereof: So a Mathematical propoſition how certain ſoever it be, may leave a doubt to him who never ſaw the demonſtration; and he who hath not proved the effect of a remedy, may doubt whether what was ſaid be true or falſe. But the moſt evident, and perhaps the moſt ordinary cauſe of this defect is, when the Mind is divided betwixt two reaſons, or two contrary appearances, or between186 two things altogether alike: for from thence come almoſt all the doubts of the Schools, and of the Politicks, and the irreſolution wherein we are at every moment in our common and private actions. In effect, the way preſently to determine to know whether a buſineſs be good or ill, when one findes Reaſons equally ſtrong on both ſides, and when two things appear equally good, how can a man ſo readily reſolve to chuſe the moſt profitable or the moſt agreeable!
But it is not neceſſary to produce all the cauſes which cauſe our doubts and irreſolutions; its in queſtion here to know whether there be any of thoſe which we have mentioned, which produceth in Animals the ſame effect it works in us, which reſtrains their Imagination, when it ſhould either unite or ſeparate images. In a word, which makes them doubt the things propoſed unto them.
Readily to decide this Queſtion, thoſe who hold the negative part, muſt go and be inſtructed by that Aſs ſo famous in the Schools, finding himſelf betwixt two meaſures of Oats, without being able to reſolve to which of them to go, both appearing unto him equally good. For they ſhould learn from him that in that condition he could not determine, that his Judgment was then in ſuſpence, and conſequently that he was in doubt what to do. But if they will not beleeve him, let them have recourſe to M.C. who in his conſiderations on Charron in many places hath ſhewed, That the Imagination of Beaſts is often reſtrained in theſe actions, and that the combate which hunger and fear of being187 beaten makes in their mind, is the cauſe that ſhe remains unable of performance. For this reſtraint cannot be underſtood but of the impotency wherein ſhe is to reſolve and form the practical judgment, which is the principle of operation: Now this is nothing but a ſuſpention of judgment, its nothing but doubt, as we have before ſhewed.
But perhaps they require other Maſters beſides theſe, and that there is not authority enough to perſwade them to this truth, ſhould we even uſe that of Ariſtotle, who aſſures us that Goats are aſtoniſhed when they ſee any of them taken by the beard. And certainly, could this be beleeved in this particular, they would be conſtrained to confeſs that upon this occaſion Goats muſt doubt, for aſtoniſhment is ever accompanied with doubt, and with ſuſpence, as in another place we ſhall make it appear.
Since we muſt therefore treat with them by the onely ſtrength of Reaſon, I would have them preſuppoſe what I have demonſtrated in the ſecond part of this Work; to wit, That Beaſts judge of things; that is to ſay, That their imagination unites and ſeparates the images ſhe hath formed of them. They muſt further agree with me, that ſhe unites not all kind of Images, but theſe only which agree together; for ſhe unites not the Notion of good with bitter, nor that of ill with ſweet; no more then the deſign of purſuing with what is ill, or that of flying with what is good: But it joyns Sweet with Good, and adds to this the deſign of the purſuit; as it unites the Bitter with Ill, joyning afterwards thereunto the deſign of flight. She188 muſt therefore know ſweet before ſhe can judge whether it be good, and that its good before ſhe forms the deſign of the purſuit. And if ſhe be troubled to know them, ſhe hath the ſame trouble to make theſe reſolves or judgments; for if ſhe cannot unite the images which appear unto it to have an agreement together, how can ſhe know the agreement betwixt good that which is ſweet, if ſhe aſſuredly know not the ſweet? How can ſhe reſolve to purſue the good, unleſs ſhe certainly know what is good? In theſe encounters therefore ſhe muſt ſuſpend her judgment; that is to ſay, ſhe muſt ſtay to unite the images ſhe hath formed untill ſhe be aſſured in her knowledge; for when an object is very far off, the Animal draws nearer, the better to diſcern it; he ſmels and taſtes the food before he eats it, and although it appear good to him, the fear of being beaten reſtrains him: He is not therefore aſſured in any of theſe knowledges; otherwiſe he would not draw nearer the better to ſee the object; he would content himſelf with the ſight to judge of its goodneſs, without making uſe of the ſmel or of the taſte; And fear would not hinder his deſign of taking it; ſo that if he is not aſſured of theſe things, his imagination cannot unite the Images of them, and therefore ſhe contains herſelf ſelf and ſuſpends her judgment; in a word, ſhe doubts.
Certainly there is no reaſonable perſon who will not conſent to all theſe truths, after having conſidered what Beaſts do; when they ſee or when they hear any thing which they cannot well diſcern, they ſtay, they open their eyes and their ears, and are attentive189 to diſcover what in effect it is; for all theſe actions are aſſured marks that they doubt, and that they would aſſure themſelves of what they do not clearly know. And of a truth, if they knew the thing to be good or ill, they would not at all ſtop at it, they would continue their way, did they think it good, and would flye from it if they thought it ill. But they retain themſelves becauſe their Imagination ſuſpends its judgment and doubts whether the thing be good or ill, whether ſhe ought to go forwards or backwards. Certainly when we ſee a Hare ſtop ſhort at the leaſt noiſe it hears, that it lifts up the head, pricks up the ears, and looks every way about it, we may aſſure our ſelves that its in trouble to know who made the noiſe, and that until it perceives the Huntſman, its ſtill in doubt of what it was, and in an irreſolution of what it ought to do. Whence is't fiſhes ſtrike with their tailes the bait which hangs on the hook, or ſtrike their chops againſt it without ſwallowing it? do they not doubt of the danger which is hid thereunder? For were they altogether certain that it were, they would not abſolutely come near it; and if they did alſo beleeve that there were none, they would be taken by the bait without any precaution.
Perhaps our adverſaries will ſay, That theſe examples and an infinite of the like which may be added to theſe, are effects of Inſtinct. But were it ſo, it muſt ſtill follow, that Beaſts at leaſt doubt by Inſtinct. Now it imports not here after what manner they doubt, ſo as in effect they do but doubt. For as the fear which Inſtinct gives them is a true fear; the doubt alſo which happens to them from that muſt be a true doubt.
190But take from them this poor pretext, I will convince them by an experience, which can have no relation to the Inſtinct. When a Dog ſees his Maſter come afar off, he knows well 'tis a man, although he cannot diſcern what man it is, and then he looks fixedly upon him without moving; and as he draws nearer, and begins to come to ſome knowledge of him, he begins to wag his Tail and move his Ears, without as yet quitting his place, but as ſoon as he quite knows him, he ſuddenly gets up and runs away to careſs him. For my part, I beleeve were all theſe circumſtances rightly conſidered, they ought to perſwade the moſt opinion after That the Dog ſuſpends his judgment, before he hath a certain knowledge of his Maſter; and that he hath no way to have recourſe to his Inſtinct, ſince Inſtinct is common to all the Species, and that none of the other Dogs will uſe thoſe careſſes which this accoſts his Maſter withal.
Its then reſolved that Beaſts doubt. But ſays M.C. if it be ſo, it follows that they deliberate. Not at all, there is no conſequence from the one to the other: He ſhould have remembred that Deliberation is onely for practical things, and not for ſpeculative, and that Doubt may meet in either of them. On the other ſide we never deliberate of the end, but only of the means we are to uſe to attain it; yet a man may doubt of the end as well as of the means. There is no neceſſity for Beaſts to deliberate becauſe191 they doubt, ſince thoſe things may be doubted in which there is no deliberation to be made.
I know that doubt often cauſeth men to deliberate, but had they not the liberty to chuſe, what doubts ſoever they had, they could deliberate no more then Beaſts, becauſe Deliberation is imployed onely to chuſe thoſe means for it which ſeem beſt. Now in thoſe things wherein the Soul is neceſſitated, and that it cannot do otherwiſe, there is no choice nor liberty, nor conſequently no place for Delibe•ation.
I would willingly ask M.C. when he was in doubt of ſome propoſition, and that after he came to grant thoſe principles, whence its neceſſarily drawn, whether he deliberates to know whether he ought to approve it or no, whether he have the liberty to chuſe the affirmative or the negative? Certainly ſhould he have abuſed himſelf ſo highly, all the Schools would ſide againſt him and tell him, That the Underſtanding is neceſſitated to approve a demonſtrated concluſion, that it cannot do otherwiſe. And that ſhould the Will it ſelf with all the Empire it hath over it endeavour to hinder it, it would make as vain an effort, as if it would conſtrain the eyes not to ſee thoſe objects which were before it; how ever it is, Beaſts do doubt, being uncertain of the things propoſed unto them, but the certainty and reſolution which they afterwards take; comes from no choice, nor from any deliberation which they make, but from a more clear knowledge which the objects afford them, which neceſſitates and forceth them to unite or to ſeparate the images conformably to their nature, to determine themſelves on thoſe points they were unreſolved in: In a word,192 to aſſure themſelves of the things which they were before in doubt of.
But its to ſtay too long on a difficulty, which at bottom is indifferent for the matter in queſtion; for if Beaſts were not capable of doubting, the Reaſon which M. C. examines here, would ſtill remain in full force, and it would ſtill be true that Dogs and Hawks do not purſue their Game, how good ſoever it appear unto them, if they judge it to be out of reach. It remains now for us to obſerve whether he hath weakened it by any other Objection more conſiderable then that.
He for a ſecond Reaſon adds, That Dogs often ceaſe to purſue the Game, although it be not out of reach, their Imagination being diverted: That on the contrary they do not forbear to purſue what is too far off to be taken; and if they do stop, its either out of wearineſs or out of diſtraction, but alſo moſt commonly becauſe that an object a far off draws not at all. I ſhall grant him all what he here ſays, excepting that adamantine vertue wherewith he beleeves objects draw the powers of the Mind; for 'tis an extravagant opinion which cannot be maintained by any reaſon, and which deſtroys the nature of Knowledg, and the principles of Philoſophy.
Without lying, I wonder that ſo clear a ſpirit as is M. C's ſhould not have perceived that all what he hath ſaid makes nothing againſt what I have propoſed. When I ſaid that Dogs often do not purſue their prey becauſe they judge it too far off; and that for his part he alſo aſſures, That often they do not purſue it becauſe their Imagination is diverted. We are nothing contrary the one to the other, and193 both may have been in the right. Had I ſaid that they never purſued their prey when it was too far off, and that the diſtance was the onely cauſe they ceaſed to purſue it, he would have reaſon to object againſt me, That diſtraction often is the cauſe that they do not purſue it, and even that they ſometimes purſue it when its out of reach. For all this may be true, although I do not beleeve they judge it to be out of reach when they purſue it; for an Animal cannot undertake a thing without judging it poſſible; yet this hinders not that often alſo the onely knowledge of the diſtance is cauſe of their forbearance. And M.C. having produced no proofs to the contrary, I ſee nothing that diminiſheth the ſtrength of mine, nor which obligeth me to change my opinion; in effect, why ſhould not the diſtance hinder a Dog from purſuing his prey, ſince he well knows the height of a precipice, and that that onely knowledge is able to retain and hinder him from throwing himſelf down it ▪ I ſee no difference betwixt the one and the other. And if M. C. will grant the latter, I muſt alſo yeeld to the former, and at laſt confeſs, That my Reaſon is good, and that he hath produced nothing to deſtroy it.
HAving ſhewed you in my firſt Work, That the Imagination reaſons, I would readily have taken away the ſuſpition which might have been bred in the Readers mind, leaſt I had rendred the Imagination equal with the Ʋnderſtanding; for I have made it appear, that there was a great difference between them two. 195Firſt, for as much as the knowledge of the Imagination is bounded to corporal things, neceſſary unto life, and commonly reſtrained to thoſe which are proper to the nature of every Species, and that that of the Ʋnderſtanding extends it ſelf to all things whatſoever. Secondly, In that the Imagination forms no univerſal Notion, and conſequently can make no Ratiocinations but particular ones. Inſtead that the Ʋnderſtanding hath the liberty to form general Notions of all things, and to draw from thence univerſal or particular conſequences at its pleaſure.
Whence we concluded, That the Imagination is not onely inferior to the Ʋnderstanding in the manner of operating, but alſo in the order of Nature and Eſſence. For the power which judgeth of all things, and which maketh vniverſal Notions cannot be tyed to the matter, and ought to be ſpiritual, foraſmuch as the matter determines and cannot admit of univerſality That ſo the Ʋnderſtanding, reaſoning univerſally, ought to be in the order of ſpiritual things, whereto the Imagination cannot pretend being reduced to particular diſcourſes.
Whence it follows, that ſpeaking generally, Reaſon is not the ſpecifick difference of Man, but ſuch a ſpecies of Reaſon, to wit univerſal Reaſon; and becauſe its the moſt noble and the moſt perfect of all, it retains the name of the whole gender, according to the example of ſeveral other Species, and hath part with this priviledge in the definition of Man; yet it is not therefore that this word Reaſon, although it ſhould ſignifie the faculty or action of reaſoning preciſely makes the eſſential difference of Man, becauſe,196 both the one and the other are pure Accidents, and that the difference of Man ought to be a ſubſtance. But as in the ignorance wherein we are of the laſt differences of things, we make uſe of proprieties and powers, which are neareſt their eſſence to deſign their Nature; Philoſophy which herein is no leſs enlightned then elſewhere, hath imployed the faculty of reaſoning to mark the eſſential difference of Man. But to follow his deſign, and to draw the nearer to the truth; we muſt conceive this univerſal faculty that it may mark the order of Nature, which diſtinguiſheth him from all other creatures, to wit, Spirituality. And therefore when we define a Man by Reaſon, it ought to be underſtood of the Faculty of Reaſoning univerſally, and not of the Faculty of Reaſoning ſimply, which is common to him with Beaſts.
I imagined in my ſelf, That there was no reaſonable man, who ought not to content himſelf with the ſhare I had allotted him in the diſtribution of Knowledge and Reaſon Yet it ſeems M C. is not ſatisfied therewith, and that he will alſo have that which I have allowed Beaſts, and would take from them that ſmall portion of Ratiocination which God and Nature hath given them.
Firſt, He approves not that the Imagination is different from the Underſtanding, in that its knowledge is reſtrained to corporal things which are neceſſary to life, and proper to the Nature of every ſpecies, inſtead that that of the Underſtanding extends197 to all things whatſoever. For although at firſt he ſays, That he would not conteſt thereupon, if I would not make theſe knowledges paſs by Ratiocinations. Yet without remembring this proteſtation, he preſently after ſays, p. 129. That it is not true that the knowledges of the Imagination are reſtrained to things neceſſary for life, and proper to the nature of every ſpecies. If this is not true, why would he not conteſt it? Is it that he will conteſt onely things which are true? Is it that he hath a right to maintain right and wrong, and to change his opinion from one line to another?
But he ſays, pag. 128. I would make theſe knowledges paſs for Ratiocinations; every ſhadow frights a man afraid, and to ſhun one danger he often falls into another; I ſpeak not there of Ratiocination, I ſpeak of Knowledge in general, and he to prevent my thought makes it appear that he knows not how to diſcern the things he is to remove; and he eaſily commits a ſophiſm, who reprehends what ought not to be reprehended.
He ſhould have conſidered, that having propopoſed an action which marked the eſſential difference betwixt the Unde•ſtanding and the Imagination, it was ſufficient for me to ſhew, that this knows onely corporal things, and that the Underſtanding knows generally all things, it being needleſs to ſay, whether this knowledge were made with Ratiocination or no. For Ariſtotle w•o would prove, that the Underſtanding was not tied to the matter, uſed the ſame reaſon, and contented himſelf to ſhew that a power which knows and judgeth of all things, cannot be material without198 ſaying, whether knowledge was performed by ſimple or compoſed Notions, for that it was unneceſſary to his proof, which were as ſtrong, ſhould the Underſtanding know things onely by ſimple notions, as if it knew them by Ratiocinations. M. C. did therefore deceive himſelf when he thought I took here The Knowledges of the Imagination for Ratiocinations. And much more when he thinks to have overthrown my diſtinction, and all thoſe which may be produced, in ſaying that the Imagination reaſons not at all: For whether it reaſon or whether it do not reaſon, it ſtill remains concluded, that ſince it judgeth but of corporal things, and that the Underſtanding judgeth of all things, there muſt needs be an eſſential difference betwixt the two; and conſequently it can never be equal unto it, although ſhe ſhould have the faculty of reaſoning; which is what I had to ſhew.
M. C. adds, page 128. That this difference is not eſſential, ſince its grounded on more and on leſs.
He here confounds the means whereby we know this difference: Its true, that more or leſs make us know it, but it follows not from thence that it conſiſts in more or leſs; we judge of health and ſickneſs by more or leſs heat, but that ſpeaks not the eſſential difference which is found betwixt theſe two contrary qualities, to conſiſt in more or leſs heat. In the ſame manner we know by the divers extent which the objects of thoſe two faculties have, that they are eſſentially different, and yet we cannot thence infer, that the difference found betwixt them conſiſts in the diverſity of extent. For 'tis but199 en exterior mark whereby we diſcover that the Underſtanding is a power looſened from the matter, and which conſequently is different from the Imagination not onely in the ſpecies but in the gender. Now if they are different after this manner, it neceſſarily follows that there is an eſſential difference betwixt the one and the other, although we do not thereby preciſely know wherein this difference conſiſts; And in all what we can do in this redoubt of the laſt differences of things, Our mind being not capable to penetrate ſo far not exactly to ſee all the parts of which their Nature is compoſed.
The third Reaſon which M. C. produceth, is, That the diſtinction of a faculty being rather to be drawn from the different manner of operating, then from the difference of objects; If the Imagination reaſons on corporal things, the Ʋnderſtanding will have no way operating proper to it ſelf, and conſequently, there will be nothing to diſtinguiſh them the one from the other.
If M. C. will take heed to what we have ſaid, he will finde the Anſwer which is to be made to this Objection. For we did not pretend to ſhew that the eſſential difference which is betwixt the Underſtanding and the Imagination conſiſts in the diverſity of their objects, but only that by that diverſity we might infer, that there was an eſſential difference betwixt theſe two powers. So that without engaging my ſelf in thoſe conteſts which are in the Schools on the diſtinction of powers; its ſufficient for me that its a demonſtrated truth, That the Underſtanding is a power ſeparate from200 the matter, ſince it judgeth of all things. For it follows from thence, that its object makes us know its nature is ſpiritual, and therefore that its eſſentially different from that of the Imagination, which is in the order of material things.
After this we ſhall ſee that all what he ſays in purſuit is vain, or out of purpoſe, and he might paſs without a reply, or without any prejudice to my cauſe. But to ſatisfie him on all what he propoſeth, I ſhall firſt tell him that although the Imagination reaſons on corporal things, the Underſtanding forbears not to have an action proper to it ſelf, and which diſtinguiſheth it from the Imagination; for it reaſons univerſally, which is not in the power of the Imagination, as ſhe ſhall hereafter ſhew.
2 When he ſaith, That the reaſonings of children have no other objects but corporal things, and yet their reaſon is not of a different nature from that of the moſt ſpeculative Philoſophers.
I fear ſome body will reproach him, that this indeed is the reaſoning of a Child that knows not how to diſtinguiſh the act from the power, and ſ•es not that the conſequences drawn from the one and the other are commonly captious. We confeſs that the reaſonings of children have onely corporal things for their object; but we alſo hold that the object of their reaſon, that is to ſay, of the Faculty which they have of reaſoning extends to all things, as well as the object of the Reaſon of the moſt ſpeculative Philoſophers. And although in the age they are, the•cannot judge but of ſenſible things; yet it hinders not but they may have in themſelves201 the Faculty to judge of all things which they may put in practice, when by their years the obſtacles of their childhood ſhall be removed. But it is not ſo with the Imagination, which can never raiſe it ſelf above corporal things, what help, or what perfection ſoever it may attain. For which cauſe we have had reaſon to ſay, that its object was different from that of the Underſtanding, and that that marked an eſſential difference betwixt the two Faculties, as we have already ſhewn.
In fine, he will prove, That the knowledges of the Imagination are not reſtrained to things neceſſary for life, and proper to the nature of every ſpecies; becauſe that beſides that the objects of ours are not eaſily to be limited; I have aſſured that Beaſts reaſon on all what preſents it ſelf to their ſenſes. That they reaſon on the things which they are taught, That they aſſemble all the images of the Memory, and from thence form conſequences; That they know even the time to come, which is a very ſpiritual knowledge, and one of the moſt delicate which our Ʋnderſtanding can form.
Had M.C. been faithful in repeating my ſence, I ſhould not have here one word to ſay; Beſides that, he confounds Propoſitions which are diſtinct, and ſeparate; thoſe which are onely particular, he renders univerſal, and thus impoſeth things on me which I never thought of. The Reader may therefore obſerve, that when I ſay that the knowledge of the Imagination is bounded to corporal things, which are neceſſary to life, and that commonly ſhe202 is reſtrained to thoſe things which are proper to every Species. He ſuppreſſeth the word commonly which renders my Propoſition particular, and makes me ſpeak univerſally, as if I had ſaid, that its equally reſtrained to thoſe which are proper to the nature of every ſpecies, and to thoſe which are neceſſary to life, which nevertheleſs is not true.
2. He will have it that I make Beaſts reaſon on all what preſents it ſelf to their ſences, and that I make them aſſemble all the images which they have in the Memory to draw from thence conſequences. But there is a great deal of difference to ſay what I have ſaid, That when Beaſts reaſon, they reaſon on what preſen•s its ſelf to their Senſes; or that they reaſon of ſenſible things which are neceſſary to life, and to ſpeak as M C. doth, That they reaſon on all what preſents it ſelf to their ſenſes. For I confeſs that there are ſome which preſent themſelves to their ſenſes, which are not neceſſary to life; whereon they do not reaſon, and even on thoſe which are neceſſary to life, they do not always reaſon, being elſewhere diverted. To conclude, they aſſemble the Images of the Memory not all, as M.C. makes me ſpeak, but onely thoſe which agree together, and on which they ought to reaſon.
After this its eaſie to make it appear, That what he brings to ſhew that the Knowledge of the Imagination is not bounded to things neceſſary to life, proveth quite the contrary. For when Beaſts reaſon on what preſents it ſelf to their ſenſes, and on the things they are taught; when they aſſemble the203 images of the Memory and thence draw conſequences; In fine, when they know the time to come, all theſe knowledges are followed with pleaſure or grief, with hope or fear, and they muſt therefore be neceſſary to life, ſince theſe paſſions reſpect their preſervation, and are never raiſed in the mind unleſs to poſſeſs good or ſhe from ill. For the reſt, I ſtop not at the induction which he would draw from the knowledge of the time to come, which in his opinion is altogether ſpiritual. For I have made it fully appear before that it is ſenſible, and that therefore is within the extent of the object, which I have aſſigned to the Imagination.
The ſecond difference which we have found betwixt the Underſtanding and the Imagination, is, That this forms no univerſal Notion, ſo that conſequently I can none but particular Ratiocinations: Inſtead that the Underſtanding hath the liberty to form general notions of all things, and when it pleaſeth to draw from thence univerſal or particular conſequences.
I had here given a fair field to M.C. td have exerciſed his ſpirit, and I did beleeve in the humour he was in to contradict whatever he incountred, he would not have let paſs ſo important a Propoſition without diſputing it.
Yet I perceive that notwithſtanding it hath great Philoſophers for its enemies, and ſeveral204 preſumptions repugnant unto it, yet it hath eſcaped his hands and hath received no touch of his Criticks. Certainly inſtead of amuſing himſelf to mince upon words as he doth in this Chapter, and to puzzle the truth by petty School tricks, as he hath done every where elſe, he ſhould have examined whether it is a neceſſity, That becauſe a power is material, it cannot make univerſal notions, principally not going out of the reſort or precinct of material things. In effect, when the ſenſe hath known an obj•ct, doth there not remain in the ſoul a general notion, which makes it know all the reſt which are of the ſame nature? And•s the great Scaliger ſaith, The Chick, hath it not a univerſal image of the Kite, whereby it knows every Kite which comes to ſight? And what? If the Imagination hath the faculty to judge, as we beleeve, can it not judge through all the extent of its object? and ſince it can know all the parts of the whole, may it not form a propoſition which may comprehend all the objects it hath the knowledge of? For example, can it not judge that all what is ſweet is good, or at leaſt, That all the ſweet things it knows are good? And when a Sheep ſhall ſee divers Wolves together, will it not judge that all the Beaſts it ſees are Wolves and enemies to attempt its life? Now theſe are univerſal propoſitions, and yet the Imagination how material ſoever ſhe be, is capable to form general Notions.
But all theſe Reaſons are weak in compariſon of thoſe which eſtabliſh the contrary opinion, and which ſhew that a material Faculty can never form any univerſal Notion; for its certain, That we cannot205 conceive an univerſal thing, but by taking from it the ſingularity it hath; otherwiſe it would not be univerſal; now its ſingularity cannot be taken away but by ſeparating it from thoſe things which render it ſingular, as from the particular ſubject its in, and from the other conditions which determine it. Now there is no material faculty which can ſeparate the forms from the matter, nor from their ſubject, becauſe the Act and the Power muſt be of the ſame gender, and that the Power which is material and compoſed, muſt have an Action which terminates in ſomewhat which is material and compoſed, as we have ſhewed in the firſt Part; And conſequently the Imagination which is of that order, can form no univerſal Notion, ſince it cannot ſeparate the forms from their ſubjects. Beſides, an univerſal notion ſuppoſeth an univerſal power, and an univerſal power is nor determined, at leaſt in reſpect of particular things over which its univerſality extends. Now ſo it is, that all what is material, is abſolutely determined, becauſe its of the Maliciouſneſs of the matter,〈…〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, as Ariſtotle ſays, to reſtrain all things which participate of it to its nature. And therefore the matter being abſolutely ſingular and determined, there is no material power which can raiſe it ſelf above ſingularity, or produce any notions which are not abſolutely ſingular and determined
What ſhall we then ſay of thoſe Images which repreſent ſo many ſeveral objects? Certainly they are not properly univerſal; for of three kind of things which are called ſo, to wit the cauſes which produce ſeveral effects, the ſigns which repreſent206 divers things, and the Natures which are in ſeveral particulars, there are onely theſe latter which are eſſentially univerſal, becauſe they are in no way ſingular, and that the unity which they have, hinders them not from being in effect in many particulars. Inſtead that the others are effectually ſingular, and altogether exterior to the things in reſpect of which they are called univerſal; So that the image of the Kite which is in the Imagination of the Chick, and all the reſt of that gender are onely univerſal, as ſigns, or as examples, which may repreſent ſeveral objects, but not as Idea's of a common nature, which the Imagination conceives to be in divers particulars. Becauſe there is but one univerſal faculty ſuch as the Underſtanding is which can tan take away the ſingularity of things, and conceive in them at once both unity and plurality. And to ſpeak to the truth, the images which are in the imagination are no more univerſal then a name would be which were given to ſeveral perſons, or then a character in cypher which may ſerve to mark ſeveral numbers of the ſame ſpecies.
As for the Propoſitions ſhe makes, neither are they properly univerſal; for to make them ſuch, they muſt contain ſome notion which muſt be univerſal; now as this ſurpaſſeth the ſtrength of the Imagination for the reaſons before ſaid, it follows, that it cannot alſo form any of theſe Propoſitions. And if it form any which ſeem to be of this nature, we may ſay according to the language of the Schools, that they are univerſal onely materially and not formally. For its true, ſhe may judge that all the objects ſhe knows are good or ill, and207 this judgment contains the matter of an univerſal propoſition, but the form is wanting thereto, to wit, the totality and the union of all theſe objects: For the Imagination muſt know a whole difference from all it parts, and conſequently muſt make an abſtract thereof, which is beyond its power. Theſe kind of Propoſitions are nothing but a maſs of as many different judgments as there are objects. And when we aſſure that the Imagination makes them, its as much as to ſay, that ſhe judgeth this object to be good, that this alſo is ſo, and the other it is alſo &c. Yet without forming any general notion of all theſe objects, nor of the goodneſs ſhe knows in them. And without doubt in theſe encounters ſhe doth as when ſhe knows a multitude, for ſhe very well ſees the firſt, the ſecond, the third; in a word, all the parts which compoſe it, are by the ſenſes known unto it. But ſhe cannot form the notion of a number which contains them all. Not that ſhe knows not the number all entire, but it is but as we have ſaid materially.
Theſe are the illuſtrations which it was obliged to give, a Truth which I had ſo often preſuppoſed, and which ſerved as a Baſis to the moſt important concluſions of my Diſcourſe, I doubt not but it hath tired M. C. But he muſt think that I do not write this for his ſatisfaction, and that he is like to find far leſs in thoſe things in which I ſhall not be of his opinion, then in theſe wherein we agree.
From theſe two differences which we have diſcovered betwixt the Underſtanding and the Imagination, we have concluded, that ſpeaking generally, Reaſon is not the ſpecifick difference of Man, but ſuch a ſpecies of Reaſon, to wit univerſal Reaſon, which is the moſt perfect, and which for its excellency is called ſimply Reaſon.
M. C. produceth many Reaſons to deſtroy this conſequence.
The firſt is, That were there to be found a greater perfection in human Ratiocination, it would not mark an eſſential difference in the faculty, becauſe more or leſs changes not the ſpecies, and that the faculties change not their nature, and do not become ſpecifick in a ſubject, to perform in it more perfect actions then in another.
One word will anſwer all this. There are two kinds of perfection, the one is eſſential, the other is accidental; this makes not really an eſſential difference, but the other makes, or at leaſt ſuppoſeth it. When we ſay that the Angels are more noble and perfect then Man, or that Man is more perfect then Beaſts, this perfection doth it not mark an eſſential difference betwixt them? M. C. who grounds himſelf on the maxim of the Schools, that more and leſs cauſeth no change in the ſpecies of things, ſhould have taken heed to the reſtrictions given him; for its certain there are encounters in which this propoſion is falſe. When Ariſtotle ſays that209 the firſt ſubſtances are more ſubſtances then the ſecond, and that Form is more ſo then the Matter; when the Platonick Philoſophy teacheth us that there is more or leſs of eſſence in things, and that the abundance of being is a cauſe why ſome are more perfect then others; M C beleeves not that this more and this leſs makes an eſſen•ial difference: And if he doth beleeve it, as he is obliged to do, the more or leſs perfection which there is to be found in the reaſonings of Men and of Beaſts, may it not make the ſame difference? After all let him remember himſelf of what we have ſaid before, that the eſſential difference which diſtinguiſheth the faculty of the Underſtandings reaſoning with that of the Imagination, conſiſts not in more or leſs, but that its thereby made known; and its the reaſon for which we ſaid, That if more or leſs do not make this difference, yet at leaſt they ſuppoſe it.
The ſecond is, That were there a greater perfection then Ratiocination which were capable to eſtabliſh a ſpecifick difference, it would not be the knowledge of univerſal things, becauſe general notions are the moſt confuſed and moſt imperfect of our conceptions.
I ſend back M.C. with this Article to our Logicitians, who will teach him that univerſals are to be conſidered two ways. Firſt, as ſimple Natures ſeparate from all particulars. Secondly, As Natures which comprehend all particulars. This imports confuſion, becauſe it diſtinguiſheth nothing, and repreſents the univerſal as a whole which contains ſeverall parts; But the other is clear and diſtinct,210 and makes things known more clearly, and more perfectly, becauſe it propoſeth univerſal Natures, as degrees and parts whereof the eſſence of things is compoſed. So when we conceive the Animal as a gender, which embraceth all the ſpecies of Animals, this knowledge is in ſome manner confuſed, and like that which we have of the whole, without diſtinguiſhing the parts; But when we conſider the Animal in Man, or in ſome other ſpecies, we conceive it as a degree and a part of his eſſence, and conſequently the knowledge is more clear and exact then if we conſidered the ſpecies in groſs. Certainly I cannot beleeve that M C. could be ignorant of a diſtinction ſo common in the Schools; But I wonder alſo that he did not foreſee that I made uſe of it to deſtroy the reaſon which he produced; and if he did foreſee it, its yet a greater cauſe of aſtoniſhment that he ſhould make uſe of things he knew were uſeleſs for his deſign.
But, ſays he, thoſe Men which reaſon beſt, and know things moſt perfectly, make fewer univerſal Notions, then groſſer ſpirits which confuſedly judge of all things.
He deceives himſelf; he would without doubt ſay that they ſtay leſs on univerſal notions becauſe they go to the particular difference of things, ſo that groſſer ſpirits which cannot penetrate ſo far are forced to ſtop at univerſal Notions. But indeed a Man had need of leſs ſpirit to know communalties and reſemblances, then to diſcern differences. I confeſs it, if a man know not the differences, but he muſt alſo confeſs that he had need of more ſpirit211 to know communities with the differences, then if the communities were unknown. Now the differences cannot be known unleſs we know the communities.
He adds beſides, That every time that our reaſon makes a progreſs from a particular knowledge to an univerſal concluſion: The concluſion is more confuſed and more imperfect then the knowledge whence its drawn:
Here is a new rule of Logick which M. C. will introduce, which never any thought before; for 'tis an unknown thing in a Syllogiſm to draw an univerſal concluſion from a particular knowledge; and without doubt before he eſtabliſh this Maxim, he muſt ruin that which teacheth that the concluſion ever follows the nature of the moſt imperfect of the antecedent propoſitions; and if there be any of theſe particular or negative, the concluſion ought to be ſo too. I know a Man may make Enthymema's where the antecedent ſhall be particular, and the concluſion univerſal. But beſides that, this form is condemned as vitious; there is ever an univerſal propoſition or an induction, which maintains the univerſality of the concluſion. Thus to ſay Peter is reaſonable, Then every man is reaſonable, this conſequence muſt be grounded on the Induction which was made. That Peter, John, James, &c. are reaſonable. Now this induction hath the force of an univerſal propoſition, and therefore we need not wonder if the conſequence is univerſal.
But put the caſe that we may draw theſe kind of conſequences, is it true that they are more confuſed and more imperfect then the particular Knowledges whence they are drawn? Firſt, as for confuſion, the diſtinction is here to be uſed, which we at firſt propoſed, and we muſt ſay, That if we conceive in an univerſal concluſion the univerſality as a Degree of eſſence, which makes part of the Nature of particular things, it's ſo far from rendring the knowledge more confuſed, it renders it more preciſe and diſtinct. That if we conceive it as a whole, I confeſs that in reſpect of the parts it comprehends, its more confuſed, but in reſpect of the particular thing whence it was drawn, I deny it to be confuſed, ſince it contains all the diſtinction and evidence which this can have. As for imperfection, I never heard ſay that a demonſtration whoſe concluſion is ever univerſal, ſhould be leſs perfect then a Topick Syllogiſm, whoſe concluſion is particular. Yes, but its more confuſed. Were it true, the confuſion that accompanies the extent of the knowledge, imports more perfection then the diſtinction which is reſtrained to a particular knowledge. Yes, but the concluſion is but the effect of precedent knowledges. What matters it? There are effects whoſe nature is as imperfect as that of their cauſe, and the evidence of a concluſion ought to be as perfect as that of its antecedents; otherwiſe Science would not be placed in the concluſion213 where its commonly placed. After all, I will have this concluſion leſs perfect, the particular concluſion which is drawn from general propoſitions muſt be leſs perfect then they are. In this caſe M C. would be deficient, and I ſhould even have an advantage over him for the particular concluſions which he makes upon me on univerſal ones. However it be, I leave the reſt of this diſpute to be decided betwixt our Divines and M.C. and would adviſe him to think ſeriouſly what he will anſwer them on the propoſitions they make, That Angels have Ideas and ſpecies more univerſal, according as their nature is more perfect, and that they are of a more elevated order. For as for what concerns Philoſophers, which hold that univerſal knowledges are more excellent, more evident in themſelves, and more conformable to the Underſtanding, and it is to prophane them as Plato ſaith, to bring them down to particular things; I know that M. C. will not beleeve in them.
The third Reaſon imports, That its impoſſible to reaſon without making uſe of general terms, and without forming univerſal Notions; and that therefore our reaſon hath no advantage over that of Beaſts, and that in that point there could not be obſerved any eſſential difference.
There is no propoſition in all this Diſcourſe but is falſe, as I have made it appear in the 99, 123, &c. pages, where I have ſhewed that general terms loſe their generality when they are accompanied with a Pronoun demonſtrative, or with ſome ſuch like reſtriction; and that when Logick requires univerſal notions or propoſitions to diſcourſ•, its214 intellectual Logick, and not that which is proper to the Imagination which hath its rules apart, which can form Syllogiſms without imploying any univerſal Notions, and which conſequently may draw aſſured Knowledges from particular Propoſitions.
And without doubt, had M. C. foreſeen the truths which I demonſtrated in theſe places, he would not have ſo lightly hazarded to have ſaid here That my Mind was diverted when I wrote that a man might draw an aſſured knowledge of propoſitions which are not particular; That the maxims of Logick teach the nullity of theſe conſequences, and that I would have ſaid ſingulars, by reaſon of certain Syllogiſms, which the Schools calls Expoſitories which from ſingular propoſitions infer a ſingular concluſion. Let him therefore know that I have moſt ſeriouſly thought on what I ſaid of theſe propoſitions, and that I called them particulars in the ſenſe they ought, and as they are commonly taken in the Schools; for when we oppoſe theſe propoſitions to thoſe which are univerſal, we under that word comprehend all propoſitions which are not univerſal, whether particular or ſingular.
In effect, Were this Syllogiſm propoſed to M.C.
With reaſon a man might ſay, it were to blame, becauſe its all compoſed of particular propoſitions, whence legitimately nothing can be concluded; yet at his reckoning it would be found, the firſt is only215 particular; the ſecond being ſingular, it muſt alſo be that when we ſay, That to form an Argument in ſuch a manner, ſuch a propoſition muſt be particular, it were not ſuch as it ought to be, were ſingular, terms uſed, and that ſo this Syllogiſm would not be regular.
Becauſe therein are no particular propoſitions as M.C. ſays; I ſhall therefore adviſe him to take a review of his Logick, to learn not onely that this word of particular ought often to be taken for ſingular, but a ſo that the expoſitive Syllogiſm is more uſeful, and more eaſie to make then he imagines; for its ſo neceſſary that it hath ſerved for a model to Aristotle to form his third figure, That it's the firſt of all the reaſonings which Nature teacheth us, and the onely one which the Imagination uſeth. And thence it's eaſie to judge, that it is not ſo difficult to perform, as M. C imagineth; and that the Logicians are not ſo troubled, as he ſays, when they are queſtioned to produce examples the•eof, ſince of themſelves they have reckoned to the number of 1200 ways to make this kind of Syllogiſm.
Yet I well perceive what made him fall into this error, is that he beleeved that the medium of this Syllogiſm which ought to be ſingular, could be ſo but after one manner, although it may be ſo divers ways; for it is not only ſo by the names which are proper to the things, but by thoſe alſo which are216 common, ſo as they be reſtrained by the demonſtrative pronouns, or other the like particles. So when we ſay this Man, this Thing, &c. they are terms which are as much ſingular as if they called them by their proper names. And ſome beleeve that the propoſitions which are compoſed of theſe terms are more exactly called ſingulars then the reſt, becauſe they carry with them a manifeſt ſign of their ſigularity, and that the proper name is uſed but for the deficiency of that mark, in the ſame manner as propoſitions which have the ſigns of univerſality are more properly called univerſals then the reſt which want it, although in effect they equally are ſo to the ſenſe; for when we ſay Man is reaſonable, its an univerſal propoſition, and yet in the rigor of the Laws of Logick it's not ſo regular as if we ſhould ſay, Every Man is reaſonable, becauſe the word all which is the mark of the univerſality is not expreſſed. We cannot ſay ſo much of ſingular propoſitions. But I leave this to the deciſion of Maſters of Arts. I would onely by the way adviſe M.C. That the Syllogiſms in queſtion are not called Expoſitory, becauſe they onely explicate a thing in other terms, but rather becauſe they expoſe to our eyes the naked truth, and leave no doubt, deſigning and pointing out the things which might be conteſted, and in this caſe they ought to be more uſeful then M. C. ſuppoſed.
But he ſays, To ſpeak properly, they are not Ratiocinations, ſince there is wanting to them what is eſſential. Becauſe the foundation of all true Ratiocination is that two things which agree amongſt themſelves217 ought to agree in a third; and that thoſe which have nothing common amongſt them cannot agree.
I have made him to ſee pag. 99. that this principle takes place in particular Ratiocinations as well as in univerſals, and that particular propoſitions hinder not this agreement, as may be judged by the expoſitive Syllogiſm: But from thence to infer, as he doth, That in every Syllogiſm there must be an univerſal thing which muſt be drawn from all what is contained in it: I am not of his opinion, and I hold that this illation cannot be maintained but in intellectual Ratiocinations, as I have ſhewed in the third part, where he may again ſee page 123. after what manner thoſe terms which enter into particular Syllogiſms may be common.
His Fourth Reaſon is, That ſince we have no other faculty to know univerſalities but the ſame by which we reaſon, it muſt needs be that this faculty to know univerſalities is proper to Man, that of reaſoning muſt be ſo alſo, ſince it's the ſame thing.
So as M. C. would add to the word Reaſoning that of Univerſality, I ſhall grant all what he ſays; for the faculty of reaſoning univerſally is the ſame by which we know univerſalities, That it's proper and particular to Man, and that it's incommunicable to Beaſts; but without that one word all his Ratiocination is falſe; and ſpeaking abſolutely of the faculty of reaſoning, is not the ſame by which we know Univerſalities, ſince Imagination reaſons which cannot know them.
218He adds, That the Ʋnderſtanding ought to have ſome action proper unto it; it muſt therefore needs be that of the three operations it hath the third at leaſt, which is moſt excellent, muſt be particular unto it, and that it cannot communicate it ſelf to the Imagination.
I ſhould here have made the ſame Anſwer which I have ſo often made, to wit, that univerſal Ratiocination is the proper action of the Underſtanding; but he prevented me in ſaying, That this cannot be, becauſe he hath ſhewen that the conception of univerſality is the moſt imperfect of all the actions of the Ʋnderſtanding, and that all Ratiocination ſuppoſeth an univerſal knowledge. I know very well he hath labored to ſhew it; but his ſucceſs hath very ill anſwered it, as himſelf may judge, by what we have ſaid here before; So that I have nothing to add to this point, but that he deceives himſelf when he thinks, That Ʋniverſalities form themſelves by ſimple conceptions, and by the firſt operation of the Ʋnderſtanding. For it's impoſſible to form an univerſal Notion without conſidering the communities, without ſeparating from them ſingular conditions, without conceiving unity and plurality in the ſame nature; finally without comparing one thing with another, and conſequently without reaſoning. I know very well that all this progreſs terminates at a ſimple notion of univerſal nature; but it's the effect of diſcourſe, after the ſame manner as Science is the effect of demonſtration; for as we cannot ſay that Science is acquired by the ſecond operation onely of the Underſtanding, although it conſiſt in a ſimple notion, I durſt219 even ſay, and that the propoſition wherein Science conſiſts, and that the univerſal notion ſhut up in them the Ratiocination by which they were formed. For the Underſtanding is ſo prompt, it ſees and doth ſo many things at once, that its Ideas which appear to us ſimple are commonly compoſed. But this is no place to fathom this matter; we muſt expect till M. C. hath explained himſelf thereupon, as he hath promiſed. It's enough for him now to know, that the Univerſal forms not it ſelf by the firſt operation of the Underſtanding.
The Fifth and laſt Reaſon he brings againſt the difference propoſed p. 127. is, That the Imagination can no ways form diſcourſe becauſe it's a corporal faculty which depends abſolutely on its organ, and that all Reaſoning whatever it be requires a free and independent faculty, foraſmuch as there is no Ratiocination without Deliberation, nor Deliberation without Liberty: 2. Becauſe there is no Reaſoning without ſome univerſal Notion, which ſuppoſeth an univerſal Power. 3. Becauſe that in all Reaſoning there is always ſomething new done which is different from what is repreſented by the Fantaſms. And that therefore that Faculty which reaſons, muſt be independent of its organ; otherwiſe it can onely know what is repreſented to it.
We need not uſe many words to anſwer this long Reaſon, foraſmuch as the principal proof it contains ſhall be fully confuted by the following Article, where we ſhall make it appear that there are many Ratiocinations which are made without220 deliberation, and that the other two have been examined here before, we having ſhewed that we may Reaſon without making uſe of any univerſal Notion; and that the Imagination although it knows nothing without Phantaſms, yet it forms Phantaſms which are not expreſſed in thoſe Images which the exterior Senſes furniſh it withal, ſuch as is the Union or the Diviſion, and thoſe ſpecies which the Schools call non ſenſatas, as to be good or ill, friend or enemy, and other ſuch like. For from thence it follows, That that faculty which reaſons, doth always ſomething anew by uniting or ſeparating terms and things which ſhe knew not before in that condition. Neither for all this can any infer, that the Imagination which doth all thoſe things, is independent from it's organ. Otherwiſe we muſt ſay that ſhe knows neither what is good or ill, friend or foe; And that ſhe judgeth not of things, if it be true that thoſe actions are marked with independency.
HAving ſatisfied the precedent Objection, we have propoſed what our adverſaries ſay, That all the actions of Animals, which ſeem to be most reaſonable, may proceed from ſomewhat elſe then Reaſon, and that Nature which doth not multiply cauſes without neceſſity, ſhould not have made uſe of ſo noble a Faculty for the conduct of Beaſts; ſince thoſe which are more proper, and as it were domeſtick, may alone have ſatisfied thereunto. For all what appears moſt wonderful in their actions, may and ought to have reference either to Inſtinct, Memory, or Cuſtom; whereunto we have anſwered, That with them we acknowledge all theſe cauſes, but that we beleeve that they do not exclude Reaſon, and that all actions which Beaſts perform out of Cuſtom, Inſtruction, or Inſtinct, are done with Ratiocination; Which we have demonſtrated in purſuit of our firſt Book.
But becauſe M C. hath forced us to change this order, we have imployed in the Third Part all what concernes Inſtruction and cuſtom, and we reſerve for the Second Book what belongs to Inſtinct: So that we have here no more conſiderable Objections to examine but onely thoſe which reſpect, the Deliberation and the language of Beaſts.
222They ſay then that if Beaſts were capable of Reaſon, they would alſo have power to deliberate, and conſequently they muſt needs be free, indetermined, and therefore indued with an univerſal faculty, which always preſuppoſeth a nature independent from the matter. To which we have anſwered, That it is not neceſſary, That to Reaſon one muſt Deliberate; ſince we often imploy Reaſon where there is no place for Deliberation; foraſmuch as we cannot deliberate but when there are ſeveral means found to attain ſome end, and that we have the liberty to chuſe which we pleaſe; that therefore there is no neceſſity that Beaſts ſhould deliberate, becauſe that beſides that moſt commonly they have but one way to attain their end, as that which their Inſtinct teacheth them; It's certain that then when they encounter ſeveral means, they preſently determine on that which firſt preſents its ſelf, or on the moſt efficacious, and that they have not the liberty of choice, having not an indifferent and univerſal Faculty, but altogether limited and determined, as we have ſo often repeated it.
Before M. C. began to Examine this Anſwer, he advertiſed the Reader, That in the deſign he had to ſpeak of the nature of Ratiocination, none ought to apprehend that he went about to tranſcribe all what Logick teacheth concerning the three operations of the Ʋnderſtanding. And of a truth this advice was both very judicious and very neceſſary. For after having ſeen the firſt propoſitions he brought forth, it was very much to have been apprehended had he ſaid more, but that he would have ſpoiled all what Logick teacheth us thereupon.
In effect, all the diviſions he here makes are223 imperfect, and do not contain all the members which ought to be admitted. He brings onely for the cauſe of ſimple affirmations the agreement which appears evident, although there be another which produceth the ſame effect; for the agreement may be certain without being evident, as it is in propoſitions of faith. In the ſecond place he reſtrains Ratiocination to a uſe, which being more manifeſt is not the more noble; for although it ſerve to clear doubtful things, yet is not that the onely employment it hath, ſince it forms the Intelligence of Men and Angels where there is no place for doubt or ſuſpenſion of judgment, this action being performed in an inſtant, as we have demonſtrated in the third Part.
To conclude, he ſhuts up all Ratiocination in two ſpecies; the one which ſerves to acquire the Science, whoſe object is alone Knowledge, and grounds it ſelf only on unchangeable principles, and is called contemplation; the others principle is a practical end, and is called Deliberation. But this diviſion is not exact, and leaves divers Ratiocinations which can neither be related to Contemplation nor to Deliberation. For if this be onely to be found in morality, as Ariſtotle teacheth, what would become of all Topick and probable Syllogiſms? What would become of the Councels of War, Conſultations in Phyſick, in a word, of of all Ratiocinations which are made in the Arts? For it would not belong to contemplation, ſince it's principles are neither neceſſary nor unchangeable; nor to deliberation, ſince they have no practical end, as Ariſtotle underſtands it.
But what ſays M.C? Its Ariſtotle himſelf hath propoſed this Diviſion; is there any appearance that he underſtood not what he beſt knew, and that he had not ſtudied the nature and conditions of Ratiocination?
We ſhall never be troubled with this thought, and we know that in his works, wherein he ſhould have examined the nature of Ratiocination to the bottom, he hath very well made it appear that he had a perfect knowledge thereof. But we alſo know that he hath not equally everywhere treated of things, and that there are places where he hath examined them with all ſubtility, and with all the delicacy of Science; and others wherein he hath ſpoken but ſuperficially, and in moſt common Notions. It's what he ſays at the entry of his Morals, where he advertiſeth the Reader, that in two ſorts of diſcourſe he muſt not require an exact perquiſition of things, but onely that which belongs to the ſubject we treat, and that his deſign was groſly and ſuperficially to touch〈…〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, the matters which ought to enter into this work. After having ſo clearly explicated himſelf, was it handſom for M. C. in the diſpute we have, where it was in queſtion punctually to obſerve the nature and conditions of diſcourſe, to uſe thoſe paſſages of the work wherein the Author himſelf proteſts he ought not to ſpeak exactly of things?
Beſides Ariſtotle made not this diviſion, and was far from it, knowing ſo well the nature of Ratiocination as he did. He ſays in the place alleadged by M. C. that the ſoul which is capable of reaſon, hath two parts; the one which contemplates thoſe225 things whoſe principles are neceſſary and unchangeable; the other which conſiders contingent things, which he hath elſewhere expreſſed by the words of Speculative Underſtanding, or Practical Underſtanding, but he ſpeaks not there of Ratiocination; neither ought he to have ſpoken, for beſides that we may conſider neceſſary or contingent things without reaſoning, we may make probable and topical diſcourſes on neceſſary things, as well as ſcientifical and demonſtrative, as it hath often happened to M. C. and to my ſelf. It's true it ſeems that Ariſtotle hath reſtrained contingent things to moral Actions, and Deliberation to that Ratiocination which is made for them. But M.C. minded not how that wonderful ſpirit, whom he beleeved in this occaſion he was to follow, did all at once fall upon a ſubject, which he ought not to have handled without going to thoſe things which were nothing to his purpoſe. Without this thought he would have ſaid, That of contingent things which are in our power, and that we can do either good or ill, ſome reſpect manners, others arts; and that we may deliberate on either, ſince both give way to choyce and to election, which is the principle of Deliberation. For an Artiſt may have ſeveral ways to attain his end, and to conſult on them, that he may chuſe that which is moſt fit and uſeful for him. For which cauſe he ſaid in his third Book, that there is a larger field for conſultation in the Arts then in the Sciences, and commonly the examples he gives of Deliberation are drawn from Phyſick, Architecture, and ſuch like.
But without muſing on this diſtinction, which226 no man was ignorant of, which he had already touched and ſerved nothing to his Morals, he cuts ſhort and ſays, That the contingent things he was to ſpeak of, were moral actions, and that the Ratiocination imployed therein was Deliberation; for deliberation ſays he, is the ſame with reaſoning, and not as M. C. impoſeth it. That Reaſoning is the ſame with deliberating, for as much as reaſoning is the gender, which ever ought to be diſtinguiſhed from the ſpecies, as Logick teacheth; and it's true, that all Deliberation is Ratiocination, but not that all Ratiocination is a Deliberation; nor that all Deliberation is concerning Manners, as hath been ſaid. I very well know that this latter is the more noble, and the more excellent by reaſon of its uſe, which reſpects the Soveraign good and principal end of a Man. But in it ſelf, it is not more perfect then that which is imployed in Arts, which as well as that of manners poſſeſſeth all the nature of Deliberation.
Let's now ſee whether he will prove more happy in deſtroying then he hath been in eſtabliſhing. On what we have propoſed, that we often make uſe of reaſoning, where there is but one onely way to attain an end, and that conſequently we may reaſon without deliberating, ſince we never deliberate but when there are ſeveral means, and that we have the liberty to chuſe which we pleaſe. Hearken to what he oppoſeth. 1. That experience227 teacheth us that men forbear not to deliberate, although there be but one way to attain their end; for thoſe who would go from Rochel to the Iſle of Rhe, although they very well know that there is no other way but to put themſelves on the water, they forbear not to conſult thoſe who are expert, and to deliberate on what they ſhould do.
M. C. makes it here appear, that he is no more knowing in the nature of the means then in that of Ratiocination. For he heeds not that one onely thing may ſerve for divers means. Firſt, by ſeveral circumſtances which follow it. For he who would paſs over into the Iſle of Rhe conſults not whether he ſhould paſs, it being ſuppoſed that he muſt neceſſarily paſs, but he may whether he ſhould paſs at ſuch a time and at ſuch a hour, in ſuch a ſhip with ſuch a Sailor, and ſo of a hundred other things.
Secondly, Were it diverſified by any circumſtance, were a man at liberty to leave or take it, it may afford two ſeveral means, and he may deliberate whether it be good to do it or not to do it. In effect,In his quae ſunt penitus determinata ad unum electio locum non habet. d. Th. 1, 2. q. 13. ar. 2. Deliberation ſuppoſeth Election, and Election requires ſeveral things; for where there is but one there can be no choice. So that if we deliberate on one only mean, it of neceſſity muſt be diverſified by circumſtances or by different conſiderations, which may give place to choice and to election.
But what ſays he? It often happens, that when we have but one means left to attain our end, we228 forbear not to conſult in our ſelves to know whether this means is proportionable to our end.
He here confounds Speculative Knowledge with Practical Knowledge, and Ratiocination with Deliberation. When one would know whether a means is proportionable to ones end, one may reaſon but one cannot deliberate, becauſe there is nothing there to do, &c. which is in our power, and that deliberation is but for things which are in our power, and which may be done ſeveral ways. M. C. did not conſider that the ſpeculative knowledge always precedes the practical; and that before we act for an end or by means, we muſt know there is an end, and that there are means, and ſo of the reſt, which is not from a practical Knowledge. After all, if M. C. would ever continue in his error, yet muſt he needs confeſs, that ſeeking whether a mean is proportionable to its end, there are two parts to be taken, the Affirmative or the Negative, which may paſs for two means and two things, whereof we may take our choice.
We may ſay as much of him, who knows the Gangrene will ſoon run to his heart, unleſs he have his arm cut off, and that it's the onely way to ſave his life. And of a guilty perſon condemned to be queſtioned, who knows that to ſhun death, there is no means left but for a time to ſuffer pain.
But what ever M.C. ſay, Neither the one nor the other of them deliberates thereupon, I mean on the means to eſcape death, ſince neither of them hath but one, and of neceſſity they muſt make uſe of it, ſuppoſing they will abſolutely ſhun death. They229 may well diſcourſe on this means, examine whether it be proportionable to its end, conſider the difficulty and a hundred other things which may enter his thought, but all this is not ſubject to Deliberation, unleſs you would ſay, That they may conſult on the means they ought to uſe to practice patience in thoſe encounters. But it's to change the Hypotheſis, Patience would loſe the quality of a mean, and of it ſelf ſerve as an end to the means deliberated on.
The ſecond Reaſon M.C. produceth is, That we often finde occaſion to deliberate when the onely mean is dangerous and difficult to execute.
I have often ſought in what this Reaſon was different from the former. And how it was impoſſible for me to divine it, I at laſt ſtopt at this opinion, That it was the Printers fault who had let paſs a new example to confirm M. C's propoſition for a ſecond Reaſon. He ſhould therefore have a care that ſo conſiderable an error in judgment may not be found in the next Edition. In the interim I have nothing to anſwer on this example, but what I have ſaid for the reſt; for if there be no other means to attain an end but what appears difficult and dangerous, if we muſt make uſe of it we do not deliberate. We may reaſon on the difficulty, and on other circumſtances which accompany it, but that is noe deliberation; unleſs on would ſeek means to take away the difficulty and the danger, in which caſe, what is difficult and dangerous, would in that reſpect paſs for the end, and no more as the means.
In purſuit of this example, here is what M.C.230 adds, pag. 113. But when the connexion of a means to an end is evident, &c. we fall to it without reaſoning, that is to ſay, without conſulting. Whereupon I might ſay firſt, That the But which begins this diſcourſe, being but an adverſative particle, as the Grammarians ſay, and which imports a ſenſe contrary to the precedent propoſition, is not in its place, and produceth not here the effect it ought, becauſe the difficulty and the danger which is found in a means, hinders not the connexion of that means with its end, from being certain and evident. But as I will not make punctilio's upon words, in imitation of M. C. the things he propoſeth furniſhing matter enough without inquiring into his manner of ſpeaking; I anſwer, That when the connexion of a means, and its end hath all the conditions he alleadgeth, it carries one to it without conſulting, ſo as it be an onely Means. For if there were divers whoſe connexion were ſuch as he ſays, as it may often happen, there would be a way to deliberate which were to be uſed. And in this caſe the evidence of the connexion would not hinder the deliberation. So that the Reaſon for which we conſult not in the action propoſed by M. C. happens not from this evidence, but from that there is but one way to attain the end, and that there muſt be divers others to give us cauſe to deliberate; ſo there is a great likelihood that M. C. is fallen into this Sophiſm, A non cauſa pro cauſa:
But, ſays he, to what purpoſe is it to reaſon on a thing whoſe concluſion is more clear, and more conformable to our appetite then the Propoſitions you231 might draw from thence? To what end is it by a Middle to joyn an End and a Mean, whoſe ſequel is immediate and evident?
There are here many things to be ſaid. 1. If he takes the word of Reaſoning for Deliberating, as he lately did, the conſequence he dedueth is vain for the reaſons we have already given. And if he takes it in general for all kind of Diſcourſe, he changeth the Hypotheſis, and from Deliberation he makes us paſs to ſimple Ratiocination. However it be, if he underſtands it in this latter way, let him if he pleaſe remember how we have ſaid, That the means enter into Ratiocination; for they onely commonly paſs for Enthymema's ſhortned, and new conſequences added to the concluſion of the Ratiocination which we made for a principal action; he may well ſee that the application of the means to its end, is not ſo clear nor ſo conformable to our appetite, as the propoſitions are whence it is inferred. For the deſign to obtain the good wherein the end conſiſts, is the principle whence the neceſſity is drawn to imploy the means for its ſearch. Now the end is naturally better known and more conformable to the appetite then the means, becauſe it is the cauſe of it, and that it enters knowledge before them.
On the contrary M.C. imagines, that the Ratiocination which we put in practice of means conſiſts onely in the connexion they have with the end, without conſidering that this connexion makes but one part of it, and that it's the principle whence the practical judgment is drawn, which is the concluſion of all Ratiocination. Thus when we232 know a thing to be good, and that it may be done by ſuch means, we conclude, that we muſt make uſe of ſuch means to do it. And this concluſion is drawn from the connexion of means with the end, which is compriſed in the ſecond propoſition of the Syllogiſm.
Let not M. C. then ask us any more, To what purpoſe 'tis to joyn by a Middle, the End and the Means, whoſe ſequel is immediate and evident. For we ſeek noe a middle to joyn them together, but to joyn them with operation, and the connexion which is betwixt them is the Middle, by which we infer that we muſt uſe that means to arrive at that end. But beſides, he muſt conſider that the moſt part of the means which we uſe are known by the experience which we have formerly had of them, and that in that caſe we make the ſame Ratiocination, which is to be found from Inſtruction and from Cuſtom. For we muſt unite the Image of the thing preſent which we would uſe to attain the end, with the image of that we have made experience of, and thence afterwards draw a conſequence for the future.
At laſt M. C. ſuppoſeth, page 113. 118 : That we cannot reaſon but on things where there is doubt and obſcurity, and that in thoſe which are evident by themſelves, or by the ſenſe, there is no Ratiocination to be made.
I know he is not the onely Man of this opinion, and if we were to follow the plurality of votes, he233 would have a great advantage over us, who are of a contrary party. But beſides, that in theſe matters the weight and force of Reaſon is to be preferred unto the number and authority of the perſons.
M. C. ſhall bear me witneſs, That thoſe Philoſophers who have treated of it, give us ſo little knowledge of it, that it is not likely that any of them daigned ſeriouſly to conſider it. If this be ſo, it can never prevail with the multitude, which greatens the party; and neither he nor I ought to be overtaken by thoſe prejudicate opinions which have been received, without having been ſeriouſly examined.
That we may not therefore fall into that neglect which he hath juſtly taxed, and not ſuffer our ſelves to be preoccupied by the ſenſe of other Men, we muſt have recourſe to the ſource of things, and ſee in the Nature it ſelf of Ratiocination, to what uſe it may have been deſtined.
The beſt foundation we can give to this enquiry is, That all faculties have a natural inclination to produce thoſe actions which are in their power, that they tend thither as to their end, and to their perfection, and that they never forbear to act when all conditions neceſſary to action occur. From this principle which is as clear as the light, and which draws its proof from all things, which are in the Univerſe, it follows, that all the faculties of the ſoul have the ſame inclination, that they ſeek but to act, and that thoſe which have no other action but knowledge cannot hinder themſelves from knowing when their objects are preſent, and when234 they are not otherwiſe diverted. If there are then the principal actions which form knowledge, to wit, the firſt Conception, the Judgment, and the Diſcourſe; It muſt needs be that the faculties which are capable to produce them, produce them in effect when the object of every of theſe actions are preſent unto them, and that they are neither diverted nor hindered. Now the object of the firſt are thoſe which preſent themſelves under one onely Image: That of the ſecond are thoſe which preſent themſelves under two images, which may unite or ſeparate themſelves. That of the third are the reſt which are of a greater number, and which may be linked together by a middle which is common unto them. So that in the ſame manner, as at the preſence of a ſimple object, that faculty which is not diverted is neceſſitated and cannot hinder it ſelf from producing in it ſelf that image in which the firſt and ſimple conceptions conſiſts; And that it's conſtrained to unite or divide two different images wherein the judgment conſiſts; as alſo when it finds more which linck themſelves together, it muſt of neceſſity bind them, and make this return and circular motion, in which the nature of Ratiocination conſiſts, as we have ſhewed.
From hence we muſt neceſſarily conclude, that it's indifferent for this third operation, for the things to be evident or doubtful, foraſmuch as ſuppoſing that there are three terms, or three images; which altenatively may joyn themſelves together, and ſuffer this circular revolution we have ſpoken of; The faculty muſt neceſſarily aſſemble them, ſince it is not hindred, and that the object of its235 action is preſent. But yet it follows That Evidence and Certainty far from ſerving as an obſtacle to Ratiocination, advance and favour it; and on the contray, Doubt and Obſcurity retard and hinder it. For it's certain that if the connexion of terms is evident and certain, the concatenation which diſcourſe requires will the ſooner be made, and more perfectly then if it be found obſcure and doubtful: Foraſmuch as time and pains is required to take away obſcurity and doubt, and conſequently to encounter this common concatenation, which ought to unite all the parts of Ratiocination. But this truth cannot be conteſted, if it be true That there are Ratiocinations made in an inſtant, as we have ſhewed. For all the propoſitions which compoſe them being then at the ſame time known, there can be not one more doubtful and obſcure then the other; and the concluſion which makes it ſelf aſſoon known as the antecedents, ought to be as clear and evident as they can be.
To conclude, Experience and the Schools teach us, That Science and opinion may be found together for one and the ſame thing as well as Faith and Science; and therefore ſince we cannot prove the concluſions of Science by topical Arguments, and Propoſitions of faith by demonſtrations, we may reaſon on things which are not doubtful: The concluſions of Science, and the propoſitions of faith, leaving no doubt, and being moſt certain and moſt aſſured.
Yet we may object two things (p. 113.) The firſt That the Soul ought then to go all at once to the concluſion, without making all this progreſs unprofitable236 to its ſelf. But to this we anſwer, That this progreſs is natural to the Soul, that ſhe cannot march otherwiſe, and that to make her move in another manner were to violence her nature and to deſtroy that action which is moſt proper and moſt convenient for us, as a circle which cannot otherwiſe be moved but by the turns and circumvolutions it makes about it ſelf: The Soul which in ſome manner may be ſaid to be of that gender cannot alſo move but by diſcourſe, which is a circular motion. It gives it ſelf ſome agitation in its firſt Knowledges, but if ſhe is not hindered ſhe never ſtops there, and ever makes its revolutions entire. Indeed without doubt, whoever would obſerve the manner whereby the Underſtanding knows things, will find that it makes but few motions or ſimple propoſitions, which are not accompanied with a compleat diſcourſe; and although ſpeech makes but one part appear, it forbears not to make it in its ſelf intire ▪ and to joyn in ſecret to the notions, it expreſſeth the antecedents or the conſequences it's compoſed of. This alſo is performed with that ſwiftneſs, that it's impoſſible the Voyce and Tongue ſhould follow it, nor that ſpeech ſhould mark all the thoughts it forms in theſe encounters.
As much is to be ſaid of the Imagination, and even with more right, becauſe it's a Faculty which is not free, as is the Underſtanding, but which is abſolutely determined by the objects, and which operates not but for the preſervation of the Animal. So that we may be aſſured that ſhe knows nothing but ſhe makes a practical judgment of it, whether it be to follow or to forſake it, whether it237 be to do it, or not to do it; now if this be ſo, it forms no Action nor Propoſition without reaſoning, as hath been ſhewed in the precedent diſcourſe. However it be, the progreſs which the ſoul makes by reaſoning thus, is not uſeleſs to it, as hath been ſaid, for although the concluſion were as evident unto it as the propoſitions it makes uſe of to attain it; yet ſhe fortifies herſelf in the certainty ſhe hath of it by the knowledg which theſe propoſitions afford her, & ſhe takes them as witneſſes which do not diſcover to her the truth which ſhe knew from elſewhere, but which confirm her in it.
Neither is it a thing particular unto her on this occaſion, ſhe doth the ſame in all her other knowledges; for although ſhe is aſſured by a ſenſe of the object which it repreſents, yet ſhe enquires the judgment of others, ſhe will have thoſe truths confirm'd by experience, which reaſon holds indubitable and that reaſon ſhal hold up theſe experiences which ſhe beleeves moſt certain. She will even reaſon on miſteries of Religion, and joyn Science with Faith, as ſhe often joyns Opinion with Science; and herein ſhe follows the intention of Nature, which to aſſure Animals in the knowledge of things uſeful unto them, will that all the faculties and all the means given to that end ſhall concur thereunto together. This doctrine is not unknown in the Schools, who hold that the firſt principles how evident ſoever they are of themſelves, which need no other knowledge but that of terms, and which natural light make us preſently comprehend, yet ought to be known and proved by the Induction. Now it is not that the Induction gives in the evidence, but it is that it fortifies and confirms it, as hath been ſaid.
238The ſecond Objection is, That the Concluſion draws its evidence and its proof from the antecedent propoſitions, and conſequently it ought of it ſelf to be obſcure and doubtful. But we ſhould ſay, that the proof of the concluſion is ever in power in the antecedents, and not always in effect; that is to ſay, that were it neceſſary to prove the concluſion, it might be done by the Antecedents. But when the concluſion is certain or evident of it ſelf, it needs none of this proof, unleſs for the reaſon before mentioned, to wit, to confirm the truth which ſhe makes known. So that in this caſe the concluſion doth not effectively draw its evidence from the propoſitions which precede it; and this maxim is not true as to the effect, but for the concluſions which are obſcure and doubtful. Whereto may be added what we have ſaid in the Chapter of the Third Part, that things are known or unknown by the Senſes or by Nature, and that a concluſion may be known by one, and unknown by another. And then the Antecedent will ſerve as a proof, not for ſenſible evidence, but for natural evidence. So this Propoſition, Peter is riſible, is evident of it ſelf by ſenſe and experience, and were it to be proved by a univerſal propoſition, it is but to give in the natural evidence, which it hath not. After all this, being evident by the ſenſes, the proof added thereunto, whatever it were, ſerves but to confirm the truth which is already known from elſewhere.
We may therefore reaſon on things which are not obſcure nor doubtful, and conſequently the evidence of means, were it as great as that of the end,239 cannot hinder the ſoul from reaſoning, not onely to apply them to that end, but alſo to the operation which ought to follow this knowledge, as we have before ſaid.
M. C. hath then much deceived himſelf when he aſſures (page 114.) That all the error of his adverſaries comes but from that they imagine that its impoſſible to uſe means to attain an end without reaſoning. For all what I have ſaid makes it appear that there was no error therein; and all what he ſays afterwards to ſhew that there is, proves nothing what he pretends.
Firſt, The example he brings of inſenſible things which uſe means to attain to their end without having any knowledge of it, is altogether impertinent. For, the queſtion here is not to know whether the imployment of means in general to attain an end. require Ratiocination; the queſtion is reſtrained to things which operate with knowledge. Now it's certain that Animals know the end, to which they tend, as we ſhall ſhew hereafter, and conſequently, they alſo know the means to attain it. And by the reaſon before alledged, they ought to reaſon to apply the meanes to the end, and to the practical judgment which they make before they make uſe of it.
It's true, if there were a knowledge to be found by which we could imploy thoſe means without making this judgment which devanceth all the motions240 of the appetite, and which is the principle of all animal operation: perhaps I might confeſs that Ratiocination would be nothing neceſſary. But where were this knowledge to be found, ſince of all the things which are in nature the Animals onely are knowing; and that to operate they muſt judge that the things are good and poſſible, and that from the goodneſs and poſſibility they find in them, they conclude that they muſt do them, which cannot be without reaſoning, as we have demonſtrated.
In the ſecond place, the example he adds (pag. 114, 115.) of Children, of Fools, as thoſe benummed, of timerous perſons, &c. who without reaſoning, as he ſays, employ means to do a thing; All theſe examples I ſay are uſeleſs to our queſtion, for they do exclude but the Ratiocination of the ſuperior part, which is not here in queſtion, and preſuppoſe the Ratiocination of the Imagination, which is as much as to ſay, that they do not employ means without reaſoning.
Yes, I grant, That a Child which reaſons not, yet brings its hands to its face, to take away what troubles it; that falling he oppoſeth them to ſave himſelf; that he caſts himſelf on his Nurſes breaſts; that he uſeth more ſtrength in ſucking her as he hath more need; and hides it ſelf from one who hath frighted it, and uſeth a hundred ſeveral means for ſeveral ends. But although it be true, that this Childe reaſons not, yet it cannot yet be underſtood but of Intellectual Ratiocination, and not of that of the Imagination which goes before all theſe actions, as, we have ſhewed in ſeveral places of this Work.
241It's the ſame with thoſe benummed, who how little ſenſe ſoever they have remaining, ſhrink back thoſe parts where they are grieved; for ſo long as they ſtill feel, their Imagination muſt work and move the appetite to theſe motions, and conſequently make that Ratiocination which we have ſo often ſpoken of.
We may ſay as much of a Man whoſe appetite prevents all the concluſions which his reaſon can make, at the unexpected encounter of ſome ſpark of fire which burns him. Of timerous perſons, who without reaſoning flie from thoſe things which appear frightful; and of thoſe to whom the ſight of a Serpent, of a Mouſe, or of ſuch like makes them out of countenance, by the antipathy they have together. For all this may well be without the intervention of the Superior Reaſon, but not without the reaſoning of the Imagination. In the mean time M. C. confounds theſe two things as well as the deſign and intention, which are to be found in theſe two faculties, ſince he ſays, That all the actions of the Appetite are performed without deſign, that we often laugh without any intention, and that the apprehenſion of tickling cauſeth us often to make involuntary ſhrugs. Now it's certain that by this kind of ſpeaking we can ſay nothing but that theſe actions are done without the Deſign and Intention of the Superior part. And it cannot fall into the thought of any reaſonable perſon, that from thence one might infer that they were done without the deſign and intention of the ſenſitive ſoul, preſuppoſing that it is capable of deſign and intention, as we have ſhewed.
242So that I pitty M.C. for having taken ſo much pains to accumulate reaſons upon reaſons, and heaping examples on examples to prove a thing which is beſides the queſtion, and to have forgotten the deciſive point of our diſpute. Truly had he fallen into the defect he reproacheth me to have done in ſome place, to have made principles according to my fancy, to draw from them concluſions according to my pleaſure: Should he, I ſay, have here done the ſame thing, he would have been more excuſable, to have ill proved what he ſhould have proved, as not to have known what he ſhould have proved; For the firſt, there is onely want of ſufficiency; But for the latter, there is want of judgment.
I ſhould here finiſh this long Examen, were it not for the underſtanding of what we have ſaid. It's to the purpoſe to ſhew, that Beaſts know the End and the Means which they make uſe of to attain it. I have therefore made one Article apart for it in my firſt Diſcourſe of the Knowledge of Animals in purſuit of an objection, whereby we would prove that if the Inſtinct were enlightned by reaſon, how ſmal ſoever it were, Beaſts would know wherefore they operated, and although the anſwer we gave belongs to Inſtinct, what we have added to the end reſpects the Knowledge of Beaſts in general; wherefore in fine to examine it here, that there may be no difficulty left in the precedent Diſcourſe:
243I have therefore ſaid, That no body hath yet doubted, but that Beaſts knew the principal end for which they operated. For even thoſe who would take away Reaſon from them, have not deprived them of that advantage, and were conſtrained to confeſs, that as all things tend to their end, thoſe that are inſenſible are born to it without knowing it, But that Beaſts have the knowledge thereof, although it be not ſo perfect as that of Men; and certainly they know what is good and profitable for them, and conſequently they have a knowledge of their end, ſince the good and the end are in effect the ſame thing. It's true, that they cannot know but under particular reaſons, and that they never form general notions as Men do; But it's ſufficient to ſay that they know the end they tend to, and conſequently they alſo know the means which are neceſſary to attain it; For it were needleſs they ſhould know the end, were they ignorant of what were to be done to obtain it. In effect, we cannot doubt but the Dog known the Hare as the prey which he would take, and that when he runs after it, and uſeth ſo many endeavors and ſo many ſlights to catch it, it is not likely but he knows they are means he muſt uſe to attain that end. Who ever would conſider the artifice our domeſtick Linets uſe when their meat and drink is hung in two little Buckets, and when they will get them near they draw the cord which holds them, and with their foot hold them whilſt they continue to uſe their Bill, he will without doubt be conſtrained to confeſs that they do all this with knowledge, that they know the thing which ought to be done firſt. In a word, that they ordain the means which they judge neceſſary to obtain the244 end propoſed. Why ſhould they not have that power, ſince they have, as we have ſhewed the faculty of Reaſoning to which it belongs, to put things in order, to compare them together, and to deſtine them to what uſe we pleaſe.
To all which M. C. firſt oppoſeth, That he is of Ariſtotles opinion, and of thoſe who followed him, who will have it, That Beasts ſometimes have not more knowledge of the end whereto Inſtinct leads them, then his pen had of his writing. And that in other occaſions they know the thing which is their end, but that they know it not as the end, nor as a cauſe of thoſe means which they imploy to obtain it.
But without touching what reſpects Inſtinct, of which we ſhall elſewhere ſpeak, I ſhall adviſe M.C. before he go on further on this ſubject, that he would bring Ariſtotle in play; for beſides that he is a teſty Author who will not be produced by all ſorts of people, and who diſcovers but to few the ſecrets of his doctrine: he hath already ſo ill ſucceeded in reporting his opinions, that we may with reaſon doubt he will not prove more faithful to him here, then he hath been heretofore. For my part, I cannot remember that I have read what he makes that incomparable ſpirit ſay; All what I can anſwer to that pretended authority is, that whether he or his Sectators ſhould ſay, That Beaſts know not the thing which ſerves for their end as the end, and as cauſe of the means, which they imploy to obtain it, they underſtood nothing elſe but that they make no abſtraction of the end nor of the means; neither do they conſider in the things,245 by a notion ſeparate from the things themſelves; and to ſpeak according to the Schools, they know not the End nor the Good under the formal reaſon of the end and of good. However it be, they know the things are good and uſeful to them, they bear their deſire unto it, and do all what they can to obtain them. Now if the end be the ſame, why, or to ſpeak better, for love of which we act, and that beaſts operate but for the love of the good they find in the things; it muſt needs be that in knowing this good, and what is neceſſary for the obtaining of it, they ſhould alſo know the end and the means.
So the Dog knows not onely the prey when he ſees it, but he alſo knows that it's good; otherwiſe he would not deſire it. He alſo knows he muſt run after it to catch it, otherwiſe he would not run; and conſequently, he knows the end and the means, ſince he knows the goodneſs of the prey, and that for thats ſake he ought to make uſe of the courſe, and thoſe ſubtilties he knows to catch it. Theſe truths ſeem of themſelves ſo clear to me, that I wonder M. C. ſhould reprehend me when I ſaid, That they were not to be doubted; and that he inſiſts ſo ſtrongly to demand of me a proof thereof, I ſhould pardon him, had he had no tincture of Philoſophy, or had he not had common ſenſe; for there needs no more to judge of the evidence of theſe propoſitions.
But ſays he, Beaſts know what is good and uſeful for them, without knowing that it is uſeful. This propoſition is falſe in one ſenſe, and in the other there is a manifeſt contradiction in the terms it's248 compoſed of. For if he means, that Beaſts know the thing without knowing it to be good and uſeful; this is abſolutely falſe, it's neceſſary it ſhould appear good unto it, ſince they deſire it and purſue it, even as that for which they have an averſion, and which they fly, ought to ſeem ill and hurtful to them. Foraſmuch as the Appetite which is the principle of theſe motions cannot be moved but by what appears good or ill to the Animal. In effect, ſince a good thing may ſometimes be pleaſing, and ſometimes offenſive to them; and that a Dog at one time flies his Maſter, whom before he careſſed, the ſame object muſt be conſidered two different ways to cauſe theſe two contrary motions; and we cannot figure to our ſelves any other conſiderations but thoſe of being good or evill.
M. C. ſays of a truth at the end of his fourteenth Chapter, pag. 117. That Dogs are ſenſible of the benefit of fire, without knowing that it's the fire that doth them that good. But thit requires a good proof, for ſince they fear to be burnt when we bring the fire too near them, they muſt needs know that fire may do them harm; they then flie it as ill; ſo that it muſt needs be that when they come near it they alſo know it as good and uſeful; why ſhould they not have this knowledge ſince they well know that a man who threatens them and lifts up a ſtick againſt them, is a thing which may miſcheif them? For there is no reaſon why they ſhould rather know what beings them an incommodity, then what may be uſeful to them.
Yes, but if Dogs knew that it were fire which did them good, they would learn to make it. This is not249 neceſſary, and there is no conſequence from the one to the other; for there are a thouſand things which we judge uſeful without taking care to make them. M.C. knows well that piſtols are profitable for him, and yet he takes no care to make them. And to ſtay on this example, Dogs certainly know that bread is good; and whoever would prove as M.C. doth, that they finde it not good, becauſe they never learn to make it, would render himſelf altogether ridiculous. In a word, when we ſay that Animals know things, we intend not that they have all the knowledge which may be had thereof; that which they are capable of hath its bounds and limits, and ſeldom goes to the practice of Arts, which were invented by reaſon of a many experiences and Ratiocinations.
Let's return to M. C's former propoſition; which may admit of another far worſe ſence then we have now examined. For if he means that Beaſts know the good and the uſeful, without knowing that it's good and uſeful to them, therein is a contradiction: whether he confounds the good and uſeful, or diſtinguiſheth the one from the other: Becauſe that if they know not what is good and uſeful, as he ſays, they know it not to be good and uſeful; they then know that it is good and uſeful, and that it is not good and uſeful. If his thought be that they know good without knowing that it is uſeful to them: It's as much as if he ſhould ſay, that they know that is good, and that it is not good, foraſmuch as to be uſeful is to be good, and all that is known as good, is known as uſeful: And the reaſon of this is, that good is not good but as248 it's convenient, and all what is convenient perfects, and all what perfects is uſeful. It is not but that in knowing that a thing is good, we know all the utility can cauſe; but alſo, we do not know it then, in the extent of its goodneſs; for if it were ſo known, we ſhould know all the utilities it could afford.
Thus much for what concerns the Objection which M. C. made againſt our firſt Example of the Dog which knows the end and means of hunting. For I am not to ſtop at what he ſays, that he beleeves not That the Dog makes any reflexion on the firſt knowledge he hath of his prey. Foraſmuch as if he will ſpeak of a true reflexion, I ſhall beleeve it no more then he; but if he means that he doth not apply himſelf, and ſtay to conſider it, or that he cannot make that return in which we have ſhewed that Reaſoning conſiſts, he is in the wrong not to beleeve it, for the Reaſons already ſaid.
Our ſecond Example is of Linnets, who with their Bills draw up their meat and drink which is hung in ſmal buckets, whence we inferred that they knew the end and the means. For firſt, they know the meat and the drink, which is the thing they need, and the firſt object which ſtrikes the appetite. And afterwards they judge they ought to draw it near, it being far from them, and they therefore draw the ſtring it's hung on, and ſtop with their foot what they have drawn, to get the reſt in the ſame manner; and all this terminates it ſelf in poſſeſſing meat and drink, which is the firſt thing which enters their knowledge, and for249 love of which they uſe all this Artifice. Now if this is not to know the end and the means, there are few amongſt men which know them, ſince they do no more in their ordinary actions.
To this M.C. anſwers, (page 91.) That ſince I give this for an example of the Inſtinct, he need not trouble himſelf to explicate it. Meaning to infer that he hath made it appear, That Inſtinct excludes all knowledge of the end and means; for it's what is here in queſtion. But without alimbecking the mind on this queſtion, whereof we ſhall ſpeak in the Treatiſe of Inſtinct, that on the contrary it's a general propoſition which extends to all the actions which beaſts do with knowledge; he would never have thought that I ſhould have placed the artifice of Linnets for an example of Inſtinct. Beſides that, having clearly enough explained my ſelf on the nature of that cauſe which I found altogether ſhut up in the natural Images, he could not reaſonably have beleeved that I related to the Inſtinct the proceedings of Linnets, whereto ſo many artificial things concur, ſince there can be no natural images of thoſe things which were invented by art. Neither did he inſiſt thereupon, and part to an alternative, by which ſuppoſing, That I related this example to the Imagination, without intereſting the Inſtinct, he ſends me back to the explication he made of my other examples which I might apply unto this, and wherein I ſhall ſee that this action whether it be done by habit or by inſtinct, may be performed without reaſoning. But I ſhall alſo ſend him back to the anſwers I have made to thoſe explications, where he ſhall ſee that250 all things done by cuſtom or by habit preſuppoſe the help of reaſon. Beſides that, the diviſion which he brings is deficient: for the action of Lin••ts may be performed otherwiſe then by habit and by inſtinct, it may be done by imitation and invention; and certainly the firſt time they draw the ſtring to bring op their buckets, it's neither by habit nor by cuſtom, neither is it as we have ſhewed, by Inſtinct. It muſt needs therefore be that they muſt have ſeen it done, or invented it by themſelves. Now in all this there is Ratiocination as well as in the actions of men, who draw water out of a Well, or Crane up any other thing by a rope.
But I am not awares that following M. C. I ſtraggle out of the way; the queſtion here is not whether Linnets reaſon, but onely whether they know the end and the means; and had M. C. but taken heed to prove that they have this knowledge I make uſe of the Reaſon with which they are indewed, he might well have perceived that I intended not thereby to prove that they did reaſon; otherwiſe I ſhould have brought for a proof what now is in queſtion. But as it is a truth which I had demonſtrated, before I might make uſe of it, to make it appear that they know the end and the means; becauſe it's for Reaſon to know them, to compare things one with another, and to deſtine them to what uſe it pleaſeth. Let not M. C. be ſcandalized on the word, he takes not away liberty as hath been ſaid already in the firſt part of this Diſcourſe. For although beaſts chuſe not the means, and that at firſt they are determined by what firſt preſents it ſelf, or is moſt efficatious,251 we may nevertheleſs ſay, that they will, that they deſire, and that they are pleaſed to make uſe of ſuch a means.
Let's add to theſe two Objections what he ſays, 1. That men reaſon not to prove the firſt principles. 2. That by reaſon they cannot perſwade themſelves to what the Senſes manifeſtly ſhew them. 3. Becauſe it's to overthrow the nature of Ratiocination to employ as a proof what is more obſcure then the things which we would perſwade. 4. And that they would laugh at a man who would diſcourſe to know whether the firſt-ſtep of a Stair-caſe ſerves for a means to riſe to the ſecond. 5. That in fine, amongſt all the things which are to be judged by ſight onely and report which is evident to the Senſes, we onely make uſe of ſimple conceptions. 6. And that if there be no doubt and obſcurity, we need none of this Examen, nor of this Deliberation, whereby he defines Ratiocination.
But how eaſily ſoever the anſwer which is to be made may be found to all theſe Reaſons in the precedent Diſcourſe: Yet for M. C's ſatisfaction I ſhall anſwer to every one in particular.
Firſt, What he ſays of the firſt principles is not abſolutely true; for if they may be proved by induction, as Ariſtotle teacheth us, we muſt needs reaſon to prove them, ſince the Induction is a Ratiocination. On the other ſide, were it true, That we ſhould not reaſon to prove them, I am very well aſſured that we could not know without reaſoning. Becauſe that beſides that they are univerſal propoſitions, and that the Underſtanding can form no univerſal notion without diſcourſe, as hath252 been ſhewn. To conceive them it muſt needs compare the one with the other, and conſequently it muſt reaſon, ſince without reaſoning we cannot compare things. In effect, we cannot ſay nor comprehend that the whole is greater then its part, not even conceive what the whole or the part is, without comparing the one with the other; foraſmuch as there is a mutual relation betwixt them, which enters into the eſſence of either; and that we cannot define the one, but the other muſt enter into the definition; it's the ſame with all the reſt, for when we ſay that a thing is or is not, and that nothing is and is not at the ſame time, we muſt compare the being with the not being, and make a many reflections, wherein neceſſarily Ratiocination muſt be involved. It's true, this is done ſo ſwiftly, that it ſeems as if there were onely ſimple notions; at leaſt the mind contents it ſelf to expreſs by one only propoſition all the progreſs it hath made therin, and will not any more explicate a thing which it well knows, that others with it conceive it after the ſame manner; Even as to witneſs that it conſents or doth not conſent to what is propoſed, there needs but I or no; although in themſelves they make an entire diſcourſe, knowing well that theſe monoſyllables will make it ſufficiently known.
As for the ſecond propoſition, beſides that it is not every way true, and that there are a hundred encounters wherein reaſon perſwades what experience and the ſenſes manifeſtly make known, as we have ſhewed; It's uſeleſs in the matter in queſtion, if it be not reſtrained to operation; for I admit not that the Imagination ſhould reaſon on the253 knowledge which the ſenſes have of their objects, but on the application of this knowledge to operation. So when the Animal judgeth ſuch a thing to be ſweet or good to eat, I underſtand not that it reaſons thereon, but onely when it from thence concludes that it muſt be eaten.
And when he ſays, That it's to overthrow the nature of Ratiocination to make uſe of for a proof what is more obſcure then the thing we would perſwade. This is true, when we imploy it for an abſolute and neceſſary proof, and not when 'tis but to confirm the evidence and certainty we have thereof. This again may be true when we uſe this proof by choice and by election, and not when 'tis by conſtraint, and that of neceſſity we muſt paſs by this middle, to go to the concluſion, as it happens in moſt of our reaſonings, and in all the reaſonings of Beaſts.
So that there is no way left to laugh at a man who would reaſon to know whether the firſt ſtep of a ſtair ſerved for the means to get up to the ſecond, p. 117. For beſides that he cannot conſider the firſt degree as a mean to arrive at the ſecond, unleſs he compare them together; if he apply the knowledge he hath of it to the operation, he muſt neceſſarily reaſon; neither can he do otherwiſe. It's true, that if he expreſſed by ſpeech the reaſoning he made thereon, perhaps they might have occaſion to mock him for ſpeaking a uſeleſs thing, &c. which all the world knows. In the ſame manner a man might render himſelf ridiculous if he would prove to a man that he is a man, and ſuch like things which he cannot be ignorant of; after all this I ſhall ſend back M.C. to the fifth Chapter of my Third Part,254 where he may find how the means enter into Ratiocination.
But muſt we ſtill ſtay at the laſt of M. C's Propoſitions which we have ſo fully refuted? All our ſecond Part is imployed to ſhew, that the Imagination may make propoſitions of things which are evident to the ſenſes. We every hour make the like, and every moment we ſay, That Snow is white, That the Sun is luminous, That Time is obſcure, &c. In the mean time theſe are not ſimple conceptions, ſince they are true Propoſitions, and conſequently it's falſe That in all things which are judged by ſight onely, and whoſe report is evident to the ſenſes, we imploy onely ſimple conceptions. To conclude, we have made it appear in the Fourth Part, that Deliberation is not of the eſſence of Ratiocination, and that it ought not to be defined thereby, as M. C. hath done. And truly methinks for the love and reſpect which he owes the truth, he will not oppoſe himſelf to what I here preſent him withal; and that ſince he hath ſo freely granted That beſides Contemplation and Deliberation, Beaſts may do all what the mind of Man can do: He will alſo then confeſs with the ſame ingenuity that they perfectly reaſon, after we have ſhewed him that Man may perfectly reaſon without any contemplation or deliberation. For although hitherto he hath had cauſe to reſt in thoſe vulgar opinions which have not preciſely obſerved wherein the nature of diſcourſe conſiſts, and which have not conſidered it but in the conditions and in the qualities which are nothing eſſential to it; it's to be preſumed, that having acknowledged the error in which they are, he will255 now forſake them, and joyn with me to make a more ample diſcovery of that truth, which I have encountred, and to give the laſt touches to perfect what perhaps I have onely dead-coloured.
Yes without doubt if he approve that all the action of Ratiocination conſiſts in this circular revolution which the ſoul makes on theſe images, and that the Syllogiſm is not formed but by the return ſhe makes on theſe firſt notions to joyn them with the latter. Perhaps he will alſo conſent not onely that to reaſon ſhe needs neither deliberate nor meditate, and that in this knowledge ſhe may be the Senſes ſlave, and ſuffer her ſelf to be forced and neceſſitated to the firſt means which preſents it ſelf. But likewiſe there is nothing in this action which ſurpaſſeth the force of the Imagination, and that conſequently Children and Animals may perfectly reaſon if he look on the perfection which is eſſential to Ratiocination, and not to that which is ſtrange and accidental; for if there are perfect reaſonings to be found in which the Soul makes no abſtraction or reflexion, no univerſal notion, nor any deliberation, as it appears in the moſt part of Expoſitive Syllogiſms, all theſe conditions of neceſſity muſt not be eſſential to diſcourſe, and that that which is made in things purely ſimple, wherein not one of theſe circumſtances meet, must to ſpeak properly and exactly, be a perfect Ratiocination. But we muſt give time to M. C. to reſolve hereupon; in the mean time, let's ſee what he objects againſt the Language of Beaſts.
IF Beaſts did Reaſon, they would reaſon not onely together, but even alſo with men. They would ſpeak with one another, and if they were deprived of speech, they would at leaſt fancy to themſelves as well as dumb perſons, ſome ſigns, and ſignificative geſtures to make themſelves underſtood; ſo that it's an evident token that they want Reaſon, ſince they cannot perform any of theſe things which are the effects and natural ſequels of Ratiocination; but thoſe who make this objection do not heed that they lend us arms to combate them, and that if we come to ſhew that all theſe actions are common and ordinary to Beaſts, they muſt of neceſſity confeſs that they have reaſon, ſince they are as they ſay the effects and natural conſequences of Ratiocination.
Now all the world agrees, That they communicate their thoughts, and without conſulting the Books of the learned, every man of himſelf may make proof of this truth; for a man muſt be extremely ſtupid not to obſerve that all Beaſts which have the uſe of Voice, uſe it to make their deſires known, and that they have cries and different accents, according as the ſeveral deſigns which pleaſure or grief, hope or fear inſpire in them. Do they not intercal themſelves257 when they are in love, when they want help, when they have found any food which they may impart to others? For it's certain, that if a Sparrow comes to a place where there is much corn, he will call the reſt unto it; and that a Wolf having found a Carrion will bring his companions to it: Some even ſay that either of them diverſifies its voyce according to the nature of the thing they encounter, and that that marks by a particular accent whether it be Wheat, Barley or Buck which they have found. And this hath its different roar when 'tis the Carrion of a Horſe, or when 'tis that of an Aſs. But without examining the truth of ſo curious an obſervation; can we obſerve a Dog ſhut up in any place preſently begin to make long ſighings, and afterwards change them into redoubled barkings, and laſt of all howle out till he is out of breath, without fancying that he would make it appear by theſe different crys the ſeveral paſſions which his captivity cauſeth him? And whoever perceives little Chickens flie and hide themſelves at the inſtant when they hear the Hen cry, and afterwards return again under her wings; when ſhe uſeth another, follow and run to feed, according as ſhe diverſifies her voyce, will doubtleſs judge that there is a communication of thoughts amongſt them, and ſome kind of Language whereby they make themſelves underſtand one another. And certainly whoever obſerves that of all Birds, would make no difficulty to beleeve that Tireſias, Melampus and Apollonius have formerly underſtood it, and if that any man would apply himſelf unto it, he might yet learn it. And that its even eaſie by imitating it to entertain ones ſelf with them, ſince258 in ſome manner we daily do it, when we take them by the whiſtle, and that we bring them whether we pleaſe by counterfeiting their voyce and accents. But it is not onely by Voyce that Beaſts make themſelves understood; the Look, the Mind and the Geſture alſo ſerve them for the ſame purpoſe; they know as well in one the others eyes the paſſions they have, and a Dog will ſee in the forehead of a Maſtiff, whether he may with ſecurity approach him, and whether he be in sportful humor. Doth he not threaten when he ſhews his teeth, when his hair ſtands an end, and when he looks through him who aſſaults him? In fine, all his corvets and his carreſſing poſtures, all the flattering motions of his Tail and Ears which he makes when he accoſts his Maſter, are but ſo many ſigns and very ſignificative geſtures of the deſire he hath to pleaſe him.
Now if Beaſts communicate their thoughts together, of neceſſity they muſt entertain one the other, and even they muſt reaſon together, and that the Diſcourſe muſt enter their thoughts, as we have declared. And had we brought no proofs of this truth, we could not conceive that they made their intentions known, to give or ask help, to or from one another, but we muſt beleeve that they form a perfect Ratiocination; for there are ſo many judgments to be made in theſe encounters, ſo many conſequences to be deduced, ſo many progreſſes which the ſoul makes from cauſes to the effects, from ſigns to things ſignified, and from goods and ills preſent to thoſe which are paſt and to come; that it's impoſſible but we muſt finde the form and contexture of Diſcourſe. I would willingly ask our Adverſaries, if when a Hen having259 found ſome grains, calls her Chickens to impart it to them, when they come to her, and that they cackle together, and that afterwards ſhe onely takes the grains in her Bill, and ſo leaves them without eating; I would fain I ſay ask them whether they will acknowledge no diſcourſe in all theſe proceedings, and whether they do not beleeve that ſhe calls her chickens with a a deſign to cauſe them to come, to ſhew them their food, and to nouriſh them; and that they themſelves underſtand the voyce which ſummons them, that they comprehend the thing which ſhe ſignifies unto them, and that they hope to find the good ſhe tells them of. Can all this be done without Diſcourſe, and a man who would do ſuch like things, would he not be thought reaſonable? they will without doubt ſay, that this may be true in the moſt perfect Animals, in whom it's likely Nature hath given a voice for the communication of their thoughts; but that if it have deprived others, it's a ſign they had no need of that communication, and conſequently they have no Reaſon, ſince they cannot entertain themſelves nor diſcourſe together. We readily confeſs that there are many which are dumb, and which by the voice cannot make themſelves underſtood; but if Nature could not give it them becauſe they ought not to reſpire, ſhe hath recompenced them in other things which may ſupply that defect. The moſt part of inſects, and even ſome Fiſh, have they not a particular ſound which they form by moving ſome parts of their bodies, whereby they make thoſe paſſions appear, wherewith they are agitated? When the Graſhoppers ſing in fair weather, do they not witneſs the pleaſure they receive thereby? When Bees hum extraordinarily260 in their Hives, is it not a ſign of the diviſion which is amongſt them? and that humming noiſe which they make being ſtopt, is it not an evident ſign of their anger? On the contrary, whoever hath told them, that theſe Animals do not make themſelves underſtood by their geſture, and by their motions? Certainly after the examples which we have of other Animals, which make uſe of the ſame means to diſcover their intentions, it were to be very bold to ſay, that theſe did not make uſe of it for the ſame deſign. But what? We are ignorant of the moſt part of thoſe which are ordinary, not onely in Beaſts which live with us, but even in Men, amongſt whom there are but few who hath not ſome particular ſign to make himſelf underſtood, and that it's impoſſible to divine it, but after a long habit: And ſhould we dare aſſure, That Animals whoſe nature and life is ſo far from eſtranged from ours, ſhould have none at all? No, no, moſt part living together, and even ſome keeping ſome form of Policy and of a Republick, as the Ants, they muſt communicate their deſigns, ſince it's the onely bond which binds and preſerves all ſocieties.
After all, were it true that Beaſts performed all their actions by the onely conduct of Inſtinct, without communicating their thoughts together, what neceſſity would there be that for that cauſe they ſhould not reaſon? May they not reaſon in themſelves, and a man who were all alone or deprived of the uſe of all the Organs, whereby he might make himſelf underſtood, would he be for that deprived of Reaſon?
261I know very well that there is no body who would cenſure without paſſion what I have here ſaid of the Language of Beaſts, but will approve it, and will not onely wonder at the deſign M. C. hath made to confute it, but much more at thoſe Reaſons which he hath made uſe of to that purpoſe, page 160. For it's ſtrange that a witty Man, as he is, ſhould not have known that all thoſe which he uſeth are uſeleſs to the matter in hand, and ſhake not any of my proofs, nor of my concluſions? In effect, all what he ſays is grounded on the definition of human ſpeech, and on thoſe deſigns which the Underſtanding forms, which are not here in queſtion. So that all the conſequences he draws from theſe two principles, muſt needs be vain and impertinent according to the terms of the Schools; And in defence it were ſufficient for me to ſay, That he ſuppoſeth what he ſhould prove, and toucheth not on the difficulty.
But becauſe he is not of ſo eaſie a compoſition, as I perſwaded my ſelf, as in this Chapter he aſſures us, and perhaps ſo ſhort an Anſwer could not make him comprehend the defects of his cenſure; I ſhall explain my ſelf along with him, and examine all his Propoſitions one after another.
But I will not ſtop at theſe, at the beginning of his Chapter where he hath more laboured the gentility then the ſolidity of thoughts, and where he rather endeavored to ſhew the beauty of his mind rather then the truth of the things in diſpute. For when he ſays that to perſwade him, That a Beaſt Reaſons, the Beaſt it ſelf muſt tell him ſo, I find262 that to be as pleaſantly and gallantly imagined, as he is weak to prove what he pretends.
Neither is there any likelihood that he would beleeve a Beaſt upon its bare word; he particularly who is ſo hard to be perſwaded, and would not ſuffer himſelf to be touched with ſo many important Truths as have been propoſed to him. For my part were I of his opinion, ſhould all Beaſts together tell me, That they diſcourſed, I would not beleeve them; neither ſhould they any more perſwade it me, then all the Fools I know ſhould, did they aſſure me they were wiſe. But if it were poſſible that M. C. in earneſt thought to have thereby proved That Beaſts did not reaſon; thoſe alſo of China or Malabare, to perſwade him that they were reaſonable, muſt tell it him themſelves, and he muſt needs fall into that inconvenience, that untill he could underſtand their Language, he muſt ſtill be obliged to doubt of it. For it were to no purpoſe to ſay, that the figure of man would ſufficiently clear it, ſince there have been Beaſts diſcovered which are ſo like men, that there is ſcarce any difference as to the outward form. After all, there would be but one onely anſwer to make hereupon, That Animals have often told him that they had Reaſon, and if he underſtood them not, it was his fault, and none of theirs.
But ſays he, they ought then to tell it him in the Language of Men, and learn to speak as we do.
This is neither juſt nor neceſſary; why ſhould they be more obliged to learn the Language of Men, then Men are to learn theirs. And ought263 not M. C. to have imagined, that they might ſay the ſame thing of him as he doth of them, and that they have reaſon to doubt whither he Reaſons, until they have learnt his Language, and that he hath aſſured them of it in the ſame terms, as they uſe amongſt themſelves.
He adds, That if they cannot learn to speak, it comes from no indiſpoſition which they have in their organs, as might be imagined; for their organs differ no more from ours, then ours do from theirs; and therefore ſince the moſt ſtupid amongſt men may ſo eaſily imitate what we call the Speech of Beaſts, there is nothing which can hinder them from learning of ours.
All this Ratiocination confirms what I have ſaid before, That this is but a paſtime for M. C's ſpirit, to divert it ſelf before it enter into a more ſerious Examen. For beſides that he beleeves not that all Animals have proper organs to imitate the Language of Men, and that there are onely Parrots and Pies, and ſome others, which have this priviledge, for thoſe Reaſons which are known to all the world; It is not likely that he ſhould approve the way of argument he here uſeth, ſince that if it were good in his way, we might prove things moſt falſe and moſt extravagant. On the model he makes, might we not ſay, that the Dogs paw differs no more from the hand, then the hand differs from the Dogs paw; and that therefore ſince the moſt ſtupid amongſt Men may do with his hand whatſoever a Dog can do with his paw, nothing264 can hinder a Dog from doing with his paw, when men do with the hand; That is to ſay, that nothing hinders but that he may write, play upon inſtruments, and do what Art executes with the hands. By this wonderful way of reaſoning we might alſo prove that a Fool is a very able Man; That an Ignorant is very knowing; That men are as intelligent as Angels; And even that they are as powerful as God, and a thouſand ſuch like extravagancies.
At leaſt, ſays he, p. 191. thoſe Birds which learn our Language ſhould make uſe of it to diſcourſe with us, and to demand from us their neceſſities; and ſince they do it not, it's a ſign that they do neither speak nor reaſon.
It is to exact from them things we would not exact from M. C. had we taught him to ſpeak as we do them. For when we teach them, we deſign onely to make them learn the ſound of the words, without minding to make them comprehend the ſenſe. And in the way it is taught them, it's almoſt impoſſible that that they can conceive what is ſignified by them, becauſe we never repeat a word but the circumſtances and objects with which it was at firſt accompanied are changed, and that there is no place to fix their thought on one onely ſignification, ſeeing ſo many different things whereto the word they learn might be applied. For my part it were nothing difficult for me to beleeve, that if in teaching a Parrot the word bread, were onely preſented to it principalement when it had need to265 eat, that at laſt it might comprehend that that word where-ever it were would ſignifie bread; and why might it not be capable of this knowledge, ſince Dogs not onely do very well underſtand the names impoſed on them, but all other words which uſe to make them do ſo many ſeveral things as they have been taught? For all the words we give them are ſigns by which we make them comprehend the intention we have that they ſhould do what we require them; ſo that in doing them, they comprehend the ſenſe we meant by theſe words.
Yet becauſe we will no longer inſiſt hereupon; it's ſufficient to ſay that M. C's Reaſon is not concluding, ſince children which we teach Latin, are not obliged to uſe it to entertain themſelves with others, nor to demand their neceſſities. Birds which have been taught to ſpeak, have as they have another Language, which they uſe for ſuch things as that which is more familiar, and conſequently more eaſie: And certainly we may be aſſured, that it is with Men and Beaſts when they ſpeak together as it is with two Strangers, which entertain themſelves every one in its natural Language; for a Man ſpeaks to them in his Language, and Beaſts alſo ſpeak in theirs; and it happens alſo to them as to thoſe ſtrangers, that they often underſtand one another, and that often they not at all underſtand, having not a full knowledge of the Language which either of them make uſe of.
But it's to ſtudy too much on M. C's divertiſement, which from ſports of the mind, by a long examen might become the plays of children, and provoke the Readers wrath to ſee us ſo ill imploy266 both ours and his time; it's ſufficient for him to know that I have had a care of his honor, when in my firſt Diſcourſe I diſcharged his Objection of all its weakneſs, and that I ſhould never have thought to have ſpoken of them here, had he not reproduced to light, and ranked them at the enterance of his Chapter: Let us now go to more important things, and ſee how he hath weakened or baffled the Anſwer we made to this latter Objection.
On what I propoſed, That we could not doubt but that Beaſts communicated their thoughts not only by the voyce, but alſo by the geſture, mind look.
He•eſts agreed; But ſays he, page 162. that we cannot infer from thence that they ſpeak together, all communication of thoughts being not ſpeech, and ſpeech being not all what the thought marks. Which he proves, 1. Becauſe ſpeech is not a natural ſign, but a ſign of inſtitution, which hath no ſignification but that which is impoſed on it by the agreement and conſent made amongſt thoſe which uſe it. 2. For as much as to make uſe of speech, and to be able to ſay we ſpeak, we muſt have a deſign to expreſs our thoughts by it, and know that it's a ſign to make our ſelves underſtood. Whence he concludes, That Beaſts do not ſpeak, foraſmuch as the diverſity which is in their voyces comes from Nature and not from Inſtitution, and that they expreſs their thoughts by this diverſity, without having intention to expreſs them, and without knowing that it's a means to make267 themſelves underſtood. But not to foil M. C. at the beginning of the Examen we intend of all theſe propoſitions; and to let him know that I am a tractable man, who will not uſe him rigorouſly; I ſhall conſent to two of his Reaſons, ſo as he will give me leave to deny the conſequences he draws from them.
For as for the firſt, I hold with him that ſpeech is a ſign we make uſe of to make known our thoughts, which is not natural, and is introduced by the agreement and conſentment made amongſt thoſe which uſe it; but I hold alſo, that this ought not to be underſtood but of human ſpeech; ſo that all what he can infer from thence is, That Beaſts do not ſpeak the Language of Men, and uſe not humane ſpeech to make their thoughts underſtood; which I will not conteſt with him, the point of our queſtion conſiſting not therein: Ours is to know whether Beaſts have a Speech different from that of Men; Now it's to reaſon ill, to ſay that Beaſts have not a Speech different from that of Men, becauſe they have not that of Men. To make this conſequence good, he muſt firſt ſhew that there is no other ſpeech but that which Men uſe: Thus M. C. cannot here excuſe himſelf from having fallen on a Sophiſm which ſuppoſeth what he ſhould prove; and which Logick calls Petitio principii; But it is not ſufficient to have told him, he hath ſtraggled, we muſt alſo ſhew him the right way, and make him ſee what the Nature and Eſſence of Speech is; for after that he himſelf may judge that he was in the wrong to take it away from Beaſts.
Although Speech be an Accident which is not capable of any true eſſential compoſition, yet we forbear not to figure therein ſeveral parts, whoſe nature is in ſome manner compoſed; for we thereby do not onely find out its gender and its difference, but we even find out its matter and its form. The Voyce is the gender and the matter, as the Sound is that of the Voyce, foraſmuch as Speech is a Voyce, but hath ſomewhat more then Voyce, and in this more conſiſts the difference and the form of the Voyce. In effect, it's a ſound as the Voyce; its formed by the organs of reſpiration, as that is, and as that it alſo ſerves Beaſts for a ſign, and as the means to make known the motions of the Soul. But what it hath above it, 'tis that its production depends on a greater number of organs, and that it ſignifies more things then the Voyce doth ſimply alone. And to ſpeak it in a word, its Articulate. For the uſe of ſeveral organs is the cauſe of Articulation, and Articulation which diverſifies the Voyce, ſerves to expreſs the more things by this diverſity. All the Philoſophers are alſo agreed, that exactly to define Speech, we muſt call it An Articulate Voyce, and that all articulate Voyce is Speech.
But that we may well explain wherein this Articulation conſiſts, we muſt firſt know what the Voyces are we call articulate; for there are thoſe who do not acknowledge it in the vowels and in the conſonants, which are the firſt differences of the269 Voice, but even who maintain that divers vowels joyned together, can form no articulation unleſs they are accompanied with conſonants.
And certainly there is reaſon to doubt for the vowels and conſonants as they are ſimple, becauſe the elements of a thing are not the thing it ſelf, whereby they are elements; and therefore the vowels and conſonants cannot be words ſince they are the elements of Speech, as all the world acknowledgeth. Now they were words, were they articulate, becauſe they would be articulate voyces. On the other ſide, cryings and exclamations, wherein ſimple Vowels commonly do onely enter, which grief or ſome other paſſion extends and lengthens, are not placed in the rank of articulate voyces, no more then whiſtlings and all other voices which are made by ſemivowels all alone. And conſequently it ſeems that articulation onely belongs to a voice compoſed of vowels and of conſonants.
On another ſide, ſince all words which are parts of diſcourſe, ſhould be articulate, the Interjections, Adverbs and Prepoſitions, and even ſome Greek and Latin Verbs, which conſiſt but of one vowel onely, muſt be articulate Voyces. Add that we have examples in Greek Poets of ſome verſes which are made of one onely continued vowel, even to the length the verſe requires; and therefore theſe kind of vowels are articulate words, ſince they are onely articulate words which may enter into the compoſition of verſes.
In the ſecond place, as articulation requires ſome conſtraint in the voice which makes it bend, and hinders it from going forth in an even thread, and270 with freedom. It ſeems that ſeveral vowels entering into the compoſition of the voice without conſonants, can make no articulation, becauſe the voice finds no hinderance when it forms vowels, and runs all in one courſe along the tongue, inſtead of which, conſonants in paſſing ſtrike on their organs, and turning from the direct way which they would have taken without that obſtacle. Whence it follows, that vowels whether they be all alone, or whether they follow one the other, render not an articulate voice, and it's the reaſon for which the moſt part of Beaſts have not an articulate voice, foraſmuch as they do not form conſonants, and that all the diverſity of their voyces conſiſts in the bringing together and in the ſequel of different vowels. But alſo we may hereunto oppoſe, that in all Languages there are many words which have a perfect ſenſe, and which are compoſed of ſeveral ſyllables whereunto none but vowels enter; as eo which ſignifies I go,〈…〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉which ſignifies Eggs, and the like, which we dare not place in the number of voyces which are not articulate. And that conſequently articulation may be found in the bringing together of ſeveral vowels, and the precedent Reaſon is not capable to baniſh it from the voice of Animals.
To get out of theſe doubts, we muſt obſerve, that as the articulation of the voice hath taken its name and origine from the articulation of the bones, It's impoſſible exactly to know what it is, but by271 the relation it hath with this; and that we muſt neceſſarily ſuppoſe as a moſt certain foundation that both the one and the other are made proportionably in the ſame manner, and for the ſame end. So that the joynts being deſtined to make the Members bend, and move, diſtinguiſhing them one from another, and yet uniting them together; the articulation of the voice muſt alſo ſerve to bend and turn it, and make the diſtinction of its parts appear, although it bind them the one with the other. This is manifeſtly ſeen in thoſe words which are moſt perfectly articulated, where the ſyllables are as the joynts which make all theſe ſeveral reflections of the voyce, which are to be obſerved in words, and which conſequently diſtinguiſh the parts, and bind one with another to make whole words of them. But we muſt yet obſerve that as there are ſeveral kinds of articulations in the bones, ſome where moſt is moſt apparent; others where it is leſs ſo; and ſome where it is altogether obſcure: There are alſo ſeveral articulations of the voyce, wherein its more or leſs ſenſible; for in the Vowels all alone it almoſt appears not at all; when they are joyned together it's more manifeſt; but it's moſt evident in the conſonants; and the more there are, whether in one or in many ſyllables, the more the turn and inflection of the voyce is therein remarkable.
The better to comprehend this, we muſt conſider that the nature of the voice, as of all other ſenſible qualities is to diſpence it ſelf on all ſides in ſtreight lines: And that when it finds any obſtacle which bereaves it of the liberty of thus extending272 it ſelf in length or breadth, it bends and bows it ſelf ſeveral ways; and if we may ſo ſay, it in ſome ſort complains of the conſtraint which it ſuffers.
So that in general there are two inflexions, or different articulations of the voyce, the one when it's hindered to enlarge it ſelf, and the other when it cannot run in an even thread. The firſt is, when coming out of the throat, where its principal organ is, it comes to encounter the mouths cavity, which obligeth it to reſtrain it ſelf, and in ſome manner to aſſume the figure it findes in that part; for according as the opening is great or ſmal, round, ſquare, or otherwiſe, the voyce conforms it ſelf to all theſe figures, and takes theſe different ſounds, which are obſervable in the five Vowels, A, E, I, O, Ʋ. Now we need not doubt but that there is therein a true articulation, ſince there is a right inflexion, the voyce which ſeeks to extend it ſelf being in that ſtreight which it is to paſs forced to leſſen it ſelf. Otherwiſe we muſt ſay that words compoſed of pure vowels are not articulate, becauſe they are not formed by any other kinde of articulation, but that which we have here obſerved.
The ſecond is, when the parts of the mouth oppoſe themſelves to the voice, and ſtrike on it as they paſs, interrupting the equality of its courſe, and forcing it to turn it ſelf out of its right way: as it happens to waters which run through pebbles and other ſuch like obſtacles; and this interruption forms all the conſonants; the voyce rendring it ſelf ſoft or dry, ſweet or ſharp, clear or obſcure,277 quick or ſlow, according as the ſtroke is made, and according to the nature of the organs, which in ſome manner imprint on it the qualities it hath. But as there are parts which cauſe a greater hinderance to the voyce, ſome then others, there are alſo Conſonants wherein articulation is more or leſs ſenſible, which for this reaſon are divided into Mutes, Demy-Mutes, and Demy-Vowels.
The greateſt obſtacle is to be found in the Mutes, becauſe the Voyce finds the paſſage quite ſtopt, and that endeavouring to get out, its oppreſt, and as it were ſtiffled, it beating againſt the organs through which it paſſeth. Now there is nothing but the Tongue and the Lips which may cauſe this hinderance, becauſe there are only thoſe two parts of the Mouth which truly move, and whoſe motion ſerves to form Speech; and as they ſtrike the other parts more ſtrongly or more ſoftly, they produce two ſorts of Mutes; if it be by the Lips the paſſage is ſtopt, the voyce iſſuing out forms P or B. If by the Tongue, either it is by its Baſis which ſtrikes the Palat, and bring forth C and G. or 'tis by its point, which ſtrikes againſt the Teeth, and makes T and D. Amongſt the Demmutes, the paſſage is truly ſtopt, as in the Mutes, but the voice is not ſtifled as it is here, becauſe it engageth not it ſelf altogether betwixt the organs, which reſiſt it ſo that it returns back, and ſeeks turns to flye out. Wherefore they are called liquids, becauſe they make a reflux, and have a waveing recourſe like the water, which returns back to its ſource, when its ſtopt. When the voice is therefore hindered from going out of the lips which ſhut274 themſelves, and that it returns towards the Noſtrils it changeth it ſelf into a kind of bellowing, which makes M. If the hinderance happens on the Tongue which with its end ſtrikes on the roof, then either the voice takes the ſame tune back, and produceth N, or elſe eſcapes by the ſides of the Tongue in the to cavity of the Cheeks, and forms L.
To conclude, in the Demi-vowels, the paſſage is not abſolutely ſhut, as in the reſt of the Conſonants, but it's very much ſtreightened, ſo that the voice is conſtrained to fortifie it ſelf by a greater breath, the more eaſily to iſſue out of ſo ſtreight a paſſage: Now the breath at its going out is preſſed either by the teeth whence comes S, or by the Tongue whereby it makes R, or by the Lips which produce the conſonant V, or by the Lips and Teeth together which make F, or by the Tongue and foreteeth which form the Z, or by it and the Teeth which we call dog or eie teeth, whence is the conſonant J. Or again, by it and the great teeth whence comes the Shin of the Hebrews, and our Ch in French, to which we hitherto have given no ſimple Character. All this would require a longer Examen then we can here afford it; but it is ſufficient for our deſign to know that the voice is therein articulate, becauſe it ſuffers inflexion, and that it ſenſibly turns and binds it ſelf. Yet we muſt confeſs that theſe two kinds of articulation which are in the vowels and conſonants are ſimple, and that in compariſon of thoſe which are compoſed of them, they are neither ſo evident nor ſo perfect; and as commonly the moſt accompliſhed things carry away and reſerve the name of all the gender, although275 in effect it appertain to all the reſt; it alſo happens that the moſt compoſed voices, and where there is moſt articulations, are for their excellency called articulate, the ſimple and the leſs compoſed being not placed in that rank, although truly they ought to be ſo as well as the reſt. And thence it comes that in compariſon of humane ſpeech, which is without doubt the moſt diverſified in all kinds of inflexions and motions, there are none but that to whom the common uſe of Tongues would give the name of articulate, all the reſt being ſo little to its proportion, that unto it they alwayes ſeem as if they were not ſo at all.
But Philoſophy and Truth which do not ſubject themſelves to ſo extravagant and unequitable a Judge, and which preſerve the name to all things, which belongs to their nature, acknowledge that all voices which have an inflexion are articulate, and that they ought to be called ſo: So that on this ground, to take away thoſe doubts which are propoſed at the beginning of this Diſcourſe: for the vowels and conſonants are not called elements but in reſpect of the compoſed word, and not of ſpeech in general; every one of them being a word which hath no elements, and is indiviſible, even as when we exclude out of the rank of articulate voices, Groanings, Exclamations, Whiſtlings, and the like, it's by compariſon with ſpeech which is diverſified by divers ſyllables, and is uſed in the common commerce of men; for thoſe are true articulate voices which are compoſed of ſeveral vowels, or redoubled or continued demi vowels; but which are not ſo much ſo, as the words which enter into our280 language, wherein the conſonants and vowels are diverſly mixt together, and make a many different articulations.
From hence it's eaſie to judge, that all the eſſence of articulation conſiſts in the onely inflexion of the voice, and that all the reſt is exterior and ſtrange to it, for although it be deſtined to expreſs the motions of the mind, its its end and not its eſſence, the end nor the efficient cauſe never entring into the eſſence of things. So that the aſſembling together of divers vowels and conſonants, which ſignifie nothing, forbears not to form articulate words, as the Blictri of the Schools, and the words which our Parrots learn have all the ſmoothneſs and all the variety of pronunciation which we give them, although as to them they ſignifie nothing, no more then thoſe Latin diſcourſes which are taught children; and as we may not ſay that theſe latter are not articulate voices, and true words; we muſt needs alſo confeſs that the words which birds learn are of the ſame nature.
But I ſhall ſay more, holding to this reſtriction, the cries and accents of all Animals, which have the uſe of voyce, muſt of neceſſity be articulate voices, although even it ſhould not ſerve them to expreſs the motions of their mind: Becauſe there is not one wherein is not onely ſome vowel which is continued and lengthened, as in the bellowings of Bulls, and howlings of Wolves, or cut and repeated, as in the barking of Dogs, or mixt with ſeveral others as in the Nightingales ſinging, as in the warbling of Birds; But even alſo wherein ſome conſonants may be obſerved which makes the articulation281 thereof; which is particularly obſerved in the bleating of Sheep, in the crowing of Cocks, in the meawing of Cats, and in the hiſſing of Serpents, where the B, and the C, the M and the S, which are of the order of the conſonants, are diſtinctly underſtood, as we have ſhewed; and we are not to wonder if there are conſonants which Beaſts do not pronounce; for beſides that, they have not all the organs which are neceſſary thereunto, there are even alſo whole Nations which cannot form ſome of them; the Arabians uſe not the P, nor the Greeks the J and V conſonants, nor the Italians the Ʋ vowel: otherwiſe always imploy the T for the D, the C for the G. and Hiſtory obſerves that antiently the Alphabet was compoſed but of twelve Letters.
The Voice of Animals is then articulate, but it's far leſs ſo then that of men, of which there are two principall reaſons; the firſt is drawn from the end for which it was given them, and the other from the cauſe which affords the means to attain that end; for as the voice is deſtined to make our thoughts known, and that the diverſity of articulation ſerves to expreſs the diverſity of thoughts; it was neceſſary that Man who is more fruitful in thoughts then Beaſts, ſhould alſo have a greater diverſity of articulations in his voice. Beſides, becauſe it's Nature alone which gives to the voice of Animals the faculty to repreſent the thoughts, and that it's the Will and not Nature which hath given it to that of men: The means which are therein imployed muſt be proportionable to theſe two cauſes, and that thoſe which Nature furniſheth muſt be more ſimple, and278 in leſs number then thoſe which part from the Will, becauſe Nature ever determines herſelf to a few things, and that the Will is a power without bounds, and whoſe capacity is infinite.
In effect it were not poſſible that the language of Man ſhould be purely natural, as is that of Beaſts; not onely becauſe he hath the liberty to form an infinity of thoughts, whoſe original is not to be found in Nature; and whoſe nature conſequently cannot give him the marks and ſigns which are capable to repreſent them to him; But alſo becauſe his knowledge being to be acquired but by little and little, and time ever adding ſomething thereunto, he ought to have a language which might ſuffer the ſame changes, nor which needs either be fixed nor tied to its birth, as that which comes from Nature is: It remains then that he ſhould form one himſelf, which depended on his choice, and which might be augmented, diminiſhed and altered according to his pleaſure. Such is that of all Nations who have tacitly agreed together, that they would uſe certain words to ſignifie ſuch and ſuch things, which without this connexion and conſent would ſignifie nothing at all.
To terminate therefore this long enquiry, ſince its reſolved that the voice of Beaſts is articulate, and that it's ſignificative of their thoughts, as that of Mans is, we muſt of neceſſity conclude, that its a true ſpeech which beaſts ſpeak together, and that every ſpecies hath its particular language even as every Nation hath a proper one; it matters not that the cauſes which render it ſignificative be different, becauſe the diverſity of cauſes and of means279 changeth not the eſſence nor the ſpecies of the effect which it produceth. And as there are Animals which ingender by generation and by putrefaction, and things which Art and Nature produce, which forbear not to be of the ſame kind: So the articula•e voice which is ſignificative by nature, cannot be of a different ſpecies from that which is by the inſtitution, and by the conſent of Men; Or the interjections, and ſome other words which enter into our diſcourſe, and which naturally ſignifie the motions of the mind, of neceſſity muſt not be placed in the rank of the words.
But I ſhall ſay more, whoever ſhall well conſider the cries and ſeveral accents of Animals, he will find that they are by inſtitution as well as the ſpeech of Men. For they do not ſignifie of themſelves the paſſions they repreſent. Otherwiſe it muſt needs be that Beaſts who have all the ſame paſſions, muſt alſo all have the ſame voices, and that that cry which ſignifies ſuch a paſſion, muſt be a like in all the kinds of Animals, at leaſt as much as the diverſity of organs could ſuffer it, which is contrary to experience. But the difference found therein comes from the inſtitution of Nature, or rather from God himſelf, who hath impoſed to ſuch and ſuch accents ſuch a ſignification as it pleaſed him, and which of themſelves they could not have had. So that we may ſay and it's true, That the Language of Beaſts is in that point like to that which man received from God at the birth of the world. For even that ſignified of it ſelf nothing, no more then theirs: Neither did it come from the choice or inſtitution which Man made of it, no more then that of Animals; but284 it was inſtituted by God, who gave to thoſe words which were to compoſe it, the ſenſe he pleaſed, even as he did in the other. So that as the firſt language of Man is not of a different ſpecies from that which Men have ſince invented, although the one is from divine inſtitution, and the reſt from humane; It neceſſarily follows, that the language of Beaſts is not different from ours, in that it comes from the inſtitution of God and of Nature, and that ours comes from the inſtitution of Men.
But we muſt return to M.C. who being of the humour I know him to be will not conſent to all theſe truths, and who without doubt will maintain that all theſe Reaſons cannot perſwade him that Beaſts ſpeak; foraſmuch as to ſay, that we ſpeak, we muſt have an intention and a deſign to expreſs our thoughts by the voice, and know that it is a ſign and means to make us be underſtood; So that Beaſts having no deſign nor intention to expreſs their Thoughts by the Voice, and not knowing it to be a means to make them underſtood, although it were even articulate and ſignificative, it would not be a ſpeech, and we could not properly ſay they ſpeak.
This is the ſecond Reaſon which I have already touched, having anſwered to one part of it already; for I hold with him that the Theſis of it is true, and that to ſpeak we muſt have a deſign to make known our thoughts by the voice, and to know that it's a ſign and a means to make us underſtand: But I alſo285 hold that the Hypotheſis of it is falſe, and that the proofs he brings to maintain it are pure Paralogiſms, and conclude nothing which may either hurt or ſerve me. For to ſhew that Beaſts have no intention or deſign to make known their thoughts by their cries and by their accents, he produceth onely examples of voyces, which paſſion makes ſome perſons ſend forth without any deſign or intention of theirs. Now it's undoubted that in there encounters the words of deſign and of intention can onely be applied to the Underſtanding and to the Will, and that this ſignifies no more, but that paſſion ſends forth thoſe voices without the Underſtanding or Wils contributing thereunto. And therefore he can from thence infer nothing but that Beaſts have not a deſign and intention which proceed from the ſuperior part.
Now I conſent, pag. 163. That a man that feels grief feels himſelf alſo forced to complain, although even he ſhould have no deſign to make himſelf underſtood, That there are perſons, who by their ſighs and unvoluntary groanings have diſcovered what they had a long time hid; That there are ſome who being alone break out into open laughter, and cannot even hinder themſelves from it in company, what intention ſoever they have to fain themſelves ſad; That in fine, divers will caſt forth cries in a ſurpriſe, who would not cry at all, had they but time afforded them to form ſome deſign. But I alſo hold, that this alſo concerns not our queſtion, becauſe theſe complaints and theſe ſighings, theſe cries, and theſe laughters, which in truth devance all the motions of the Intellectual Reaſon, exclude no other reſolutions nor other deſigns,282 but thoſe of the Underſtanding, which is not the thing in queſtion. To give ſome force to theſe examples, he ſhould have proved, that the imagination concu•s not to all theſe actions, and that they are done without their having any deſign or invention of doing them; but truly to have performed it, he muſt have deſtroyed all the moſt aſſured Maxims of Philoſophy, and the moſt certain order which the ſoul keeps in the ordinary operations.
For it is undoubted that all thoſe motions of Animals which we call voluntary, come from the emotions of the Appetite, which is the principle thereof; and that the Appetite never moves it ſelf without the Judgment of the Imagination, which propoſeth and ordaineth what it is to do. Now it doth not only order it to make it more in members, becauſe it is but one means to attain its principal action; But it ſelf propoſeth the action it ſelf, which is the end and aim the Animal tends to. If this be ſo, ſince the voice forms it ſelf by means of the muſcles, the judgment of the Imagination muſt needs precede their motion; and that this knows that the voyce ought to form it ſelf by their means, and that it orders the Animal to cry; Now if ſhe knows, and if ſhe ordains, ſhe hath a deſign and an intention to form a voice; becauſe the deſign is nothing but the judgment and the propoſition which the faculty makes to execute what ſhe finds good. As the intention is nothing but the motion which forms it ſelf in the appetite in purſuit of that judgment; And conſequently in all the examples propoſed by M.C. the grief non•he ſurpriſe excites no ſighing, cries, or283 other voice, which the mind had not a deſign and an intentention to form.
Let no man object, That it's true, the Mind hath a deſign and intention to form the Voice, but none to make it ſelf be thereby underſtood. For if ſhe hath an intention to form the voice, ſhe muſt have it as of a thing good and profitable to it; for as much as the intention always reſpects the end, and the end is ever conſidered as good. Now if from the voice we exclude communication and deſign of making it ſelf thereby underſtood, there will therein be neither goodneſs nor profit, and conſequently the mind would not have the ſame intention of forming it. And why ſhould not an Animal have a deſign to make it ſelf underſtood by its crys, and by its accents, ſince it very well comprehends the thoughts of others by thoſe which they form; and if it ſufficiently underſtands them when it calls for their help, when it imparts to them the poſture it hath found, when they advertiſe them of the danger which threatens them, why ſhould they not make uſe of the ſame voice to give them the ſame knowledge?
Yes; but ſays M.C. page 164. Theſe are the immediate effects of paſſions, and he could never have beleeved that any man would have made uſe of thoſe effects to have inferred a Reaſon from them. Let him not wonder at this; there are infinite many other moſt true illations, which he as yet knows not, and which he beleeves may not be drawn from many propoſitions which he knows: And without ſeeking them further he minded not the conſequences which I have drawn from the objection he made288 me; for I neceſſarily from thence conclude that he hath here forgot the Laws of Logick, and the Maxims of Philoſophy:
Firſt, we diſpute not here about Reaſon, neither will we infer from the diverſity of the voices which Beaſts have, that they reaſon, but onely that they communicate their thoughts together, that they have a deſign and an intention to do it, and that conſequently they ſpeak together. So that it ſeems M.C. hath forgot the ſtate of the queſtion which himſelf ſtated, and that according to his cuſtom he falls into the ſophiſm, that he raiſeth what he ought not to raiſe; For although in purſuit of this, we may conclude, That if Animals ſpeak, they muſt needs have reaſon, yet we are not yet there; 'tis a conſequence which ſuppoſeth we proved that Animals ſpeak, and 'tis to pervert the order of Ratiocination, & precipitate matters to deſcend to this concluſion, without having cleared the preceding difficulty. In the ſecond place, p. 164. when he wonders that from the immediate effects of paſſion, I ſhould infer the deſign and intention of the mind; He knows not that thoſe principally are the effects which are performed with deſign; for as there are two ſorts of them, the one of which are made for the end which paſſion requires, and the reſt which are done out of neceſſity; the firſt are only made by deſign, and paſs immediately from paſſion, the reſt neceſſarily follow thoſe, without the ſouls having any intention to produce them. So when anger makes a man cry, run, and ſtrike, when it raiſeth a mans brows, look through and ſhake his head, which paſs immediately from the paſſion, and which are289 alſo done with deſign, becauſe they ſerve to the vengeance it propoſeth to it ſelf. But when it renders the voice hoarſe, the eyes ſtaring, the lips full and trembling, and ſuch like, which we have elſewhere obſerved, theſe are effects which the ſoul hath no intention to produce, becauſe they ſerve for nothing to that end, they of neceſſity follow the former, and proceed not immediately from choler. From thence it's eaſie to obſerve, that the crys and accents which Animals form in their paſſions are the immediate effects thereof; we have had reaſon to infer the deſign and intention which they had to do them.
But we ſhall here obſerve another of M. C's errors hid under the word Paſſions; for if he is of the opinion of the Stoicks, and that with them, he will reduce the nature of the paſſions to thoſe vehement troubles which are made in the ſoul, and are called Perturbations, as the examples he produceth make it ſuſpitious; it is not true, that all the cries and accents of Animals are effects of the Paſſions, ſince there are a hundred encounters wherein they form ſeveral ſorts of them, without reſenting thoſe violent motions wherein the perturbation of the Mind conſiſts. Doth he think that a Dog is very much angry every time he barks at any one; and that the tranſport in which he is conſtrains him to throw out all the cries he makes in the ſame manner as Greif lets ſighs and complaints eſcape? and that the ſurpriſe, or anger, or grateful things, robs from the Soul thoſe great endeavors of the Voice which it cauſeth? Doth he think that a Hen which calls her Chickens to eat the corn ſhe hath286 found, is not moved to form all thoſe ſeveral accents ſhe imploys for that purpoſe, but by the exceſs of the pleaſure which tranſports her, and that it is but as many cries of joy and forced exclamations, wherewith we ſometimes obſerve the violence of paſſion diſchargeth it ſelf. If this were ſo, we muſt imagine that a very vehement perturbation is neceſſary to furniſh the Nightingale with ſo long and opinionated a warbling as it hath; not onely in the Spring when they are in love, but alſo in the midſt of Winter when they are kept tame, and that there is no thought of ſuſpecting that love ſhould be the cauſe thereof.
But if he takes the word Paſſion, as doth the wholeſomeſt Philoſophy, for all kind of motion which the Appetite ſuffers; it's true that all the crys of Animals are the effects of paſſion, becauſe the emotion of the appetite is principle of the action which the organs perform to form the Voice. But in this caſe the examples he produceth conclude nothing againſt me, ſince they only reſpect perturbations and vehement paſſions. And that there are of another kind which produce effects of which we ſpeak, others then thoſe. For I know that a man may ſay that complaints, and ſighs, and laughings are done out of neceſſity, as is the voice moved by a cough: But were it ſo, it follows not that all other voices ſhould perform it after the ſame manner; and M.C. hath no more reaſon to prove that Peaſts form their voice without deſign, becauſe there are men which make complaints and groans without any intention of doing ſo, then I have to ſhew that they form them with deſign, becauſe there287 are men which groan and complain with deſign and intention. For this proof would be equivalent with his; and ſhould he have any thing to ſay againſt it, it would be that the men which groan and complain with deſign, do it out of Ratiocination, and that Beaſts cannot uſe it; but it were to ſuppoſe what is in queſtion. And therefore I ſee nothing hitherto in M. C's Examen which deſtroys thoſe truths which I have eſtabliſhed: Let's ſee how he hath ſucceeded in the reſt.
He ſaith then, That if to diverſifie the Voice were to ſpeak according to the diverſity of the paſſions, all dumb men would ſpeak; for by their voice we know whether they are ſad, merry, or angry. And yet they know not whether they have a voice or not, and by conſequence cannot know that the expreſs compare themſelves thereby. This reaſon is like the former, and is but a particular fact which concludes nothing in general. For were it true, that dumb men ſhould diſcover their paſſions by their voice without any deſign of theirs, would the conſequence be good for all others which are not dumb? And this example were better applied to Beaſts then all the contrary examples which we have from the reſt of Men which make uſe of the voice, with deſign and intention by it to make their paſſions appear. On the other ſide, it's no way to judge of the manner with which an action ought to be done to produce by way of example thoſe defects and irregularities which ſometimes happen. We inquire how Animals make uſe of their voice and M. C. ſends us to dumb perſons, who are born deaf, and conſequently know not whether they have a voice, nor the uſe of it; Should I292 then grant him the thing he propoſeth, it would be neither to his advantage nor to my damage. I ſhall go yet further, and ſhall conſent to the laſt conſequence he draws from this Ratiocination, That ſince a dumb man makes his paſſions known without deſign, and without knowing the means he therein imploys, Animals may alſo do ſo; But it therefore follows not that they effectually do it. There is a great difference that a thing may be done, and that in effect it is done; Perhaps Nature might have made in Animals, what according to his opinion ſhe hath made in dumb perſons; but we find that ſhe hath not. Thus neither are we of a contrary opinion ſince he ſpeaks but of the poſſibility of the thing, and that I conſider it as it is truly.
But without ſtopping at forms, and at M. C's manner of proceeding, we muſt make it appear that in concluſion all the propoſitions which comprehend Ratiocination are not abſolutely true.
Firſt, When he ſuppoſeth That mute perſons do not ſpeak, That in ſome ſenſe is falſe: Indeed they do not ſpeak the common language of men, but they ſpeak the language which Nature hath taught them as well as Beaſts, and that's ſufficient to ſay, that they are not abſolutely mute; for to be mute, is in reſpect of the voice, and in reſpect of humane ſpeech. Fiſh and all creatures which have not the uſe of the voice are called dumb in reſpect of the reſt which have it, and not becauſe they cannot ſpeak the language of men. Even a Dog whoſe nerves, called the Recurrens,289 are cut which ſerve to form the voice, is after that manner dumb. So that for a man to be abſolutely dumb, he ought not onely to be deprived of Speech, but even of Voice; and if he makes uſe of this to expreſs his paſſions, we may ſay that he ſpeaks, ſince even all tongues will have it, that he ſpeaks by ſigns.
But what ſays he? Theſe damb perſons can have no deſign to expreſs their paſſions by their voice, ſince they know not whether they have a voice Certainly, they know not diſtinctly that they have a voice, ſince they are deprived of hearing, which can only give them a clear and diſtinct knowledge thereof. But they know it confuſedly; that's to ſay, that they know that the action of the organs they imploy, terminates at ſomething which may expreſs their paſſions; and evidently, to ſhew that that is ſufficient to be able to ſay, that they ſpeak. We need but conſider the effects of that wonderful act, which teacheth dumb perſons to ſpeak, whereof we have proof in the perſon of a Prince, who is one of the moſt illuſtrious Families of Europe, and in that of a Spaniſh Lord, who ſpake and writ intelligibly. For both of them being born deaf, they know not what Voice is, nor whether they have any; yet they ſpeak the language of their Country; they make their thoughts underſtood by it, and have a deſign to expreſs them by the words which they pronounce; 'tis not as we have ſaid that they diſcern the ſound of the words, but they know that there is I know not what, which forms it ſelf by the motion of their tongue, and that by it, they make known their thoughts. So that they have the deſign and intention290 is to form the voice without diſtinctly knowing it, they make the organs move and know that from their action there will infallibly ſpring an effect, whoſe nature they are ignorant of, but whoſe utility is not unknown unto them. In the Arts there are a hundred examples, and in natural things, which may confirm this truth; but I ſhall give M. C. leave to divine them; and I ſhall content my ſelf to ask him, if when he makes Theriacle, or ſuch like an Antidote, his deſign is not by the mixture of the Drugs which compoſe it, to cauſe a ſecret and ſpecifick vertue to come in, which ſeparately is not to be found in them; yet he knows not what it is, and knows it only by its effects. He therefore hath a deſign to do a thing which he knows but confuſedly. It's the ſame with dumb perſons, who have a deſign to form a voice without knowing it, and who know only that it's a thing which may expreſs their paſſions.
Now if dumb men have a deſign to form the voice which they know not; why ſhould not Beaſts who know it, and diſcern all the varieties thereof, have a deſign and intention to make uſe of it to expreſs their thoughts? M.C. had therefore reaſon to have recourſe to another example, which was more proper then all that to clear all the difficulties which in this matter are to be met withal. Let's ſee what it is.
He ſays, p. 165. That a child at its birth cries without having any intention to communicate its thought; that a while after it laughs without any deſign of imparting to us its joy, and that conſequently there are very different accents of the voice before we come to ſpeech. This is that great example of a little childe291 which ought to perſwade us that Beaſts ſpeak after the ſame manner as he doth, and that they groan like him when they are ſenſible of ill, without thinking to cauſe any paſſions to come to their help.
But truly we may reſt aſſured that M. C's child is not ſtrong enough to maintain the conſequences he builds on this compariſon; a man need but blow to caſt it down, and after all, what we have before obſerved, it's ſufficient to ſay, that indeed he hath not the deſign and intention which proceeds from the Underſtanding and from the Will. But that he hath thoſe which are made by the imagination and by the Appetite. And that he alſo hath not the ſpeech which is from the inſtitution and common uſe of men; but that he hath a natural ſpeech whereby he maketh known his paſſions. With this modification I ſhall conſent that M. C. may compare the voice of Beaſts with that of children. So as he will alſo be obliged to confeſs that this compariſon is altogether uſeleſs to prove what he pretends.
It matters not, Whether Beaſts, Children, or dumb perſons groan when any thing hurts them, without meaning to make any perſon come to their help. For beſides that I have not ſaid that Beaſts groaned for that purpoſe, and that it's ſufficient for me if they have an intention to groan, and by their complaints to make their grief known, there is a great deal of difference to think of doing of a thing, and to have a deſign to do it. A man in anger ſpeaks all alone, ſtrikes what he encounters, walks wiih large ſpaces, without thinking what he doth, yet he hath the deſign of doing ſo, ſince theſe actions cannot be done with the deſign and intention of ſo doing. But292 he makes no reflexion hereon, or to ſpeak better, his thought fixeth not on it, nor ſtrongly applies it ſelf elſewhere; and 'tis thereby that he thinks not of doing all thoſe things, and that afterwards he doth not remember that he did them. So Beaſts, Children and men which g•oan, have a deſign to make known the greif they reſent, and the need they have to be ſuccoured, but they think not of it, not only becauſe the violence of the paſſion hinders them from ſtaying their thoughts at ought elſe, beſides the evil they feel, but alſo becauſe the knowledge which they have of the end for which they groan, comes from Nature. And that this knowledge is ſo preſent, and ſo familiar to the ſoul, and forms it ſelf ſo quickly, and ſo ſecretly, that it demands, nor reſpects no attention principally when there are other things which might imploy it. Wherefore when we fall, or when we ſee a blow come, we ſooner bring our hands before it then we are aware of it. It is not that the ſoul conducts not the hands, and conſequently that it hath not the deſign to oppoſe them againſt it, to leſſen the greatneſs of the fall or blow; but both the danger which ſo ſtrongly poſſeſſeth her that ſhe cannot apply her ſelf to the things ſhe doth but by ſtealth, and the knowledge ſhe hath of the end for which ſhe acts, are ſo natural to her that ſhe is moved thereunto not without deſign, but even without any attention.
However it be, we cannot ſet rules to the common voice of Beaſts, according to the cries they make, when they are agitated with ſome vehement paſſion. M.C. is not ignorant that the trouble they cauſe precipitates all the deſigns of the ſoul, and often293 perverts and corrupts them. He knows that Speech which is deſtined for ſociety, eſcapes thoſe who are alone when they ſuffer any great motion of joy or diſpleaſure; That a man in anger revengeth himſelf untimely, and ſtrikes without cauſe whom he firſt meets; That violent deſires cauſe the mouth to water, when notwithſtanding it is unneceſſary; and a hundred ſuch like examples, which all the paſſions furniſh. Without doubt there is a great difference betwixt the groanings of a Dog when he is ſenſible of a ſtrong greif, or when he would enter into a Chamber which is ſhut; in the firſt he ſcarce knows why he complains, but in the other he knows that it is to be let in, and undoubtedly he thinks to call ſome one to let him in. For we do not ſay as M.C. would have us beleeve, p. 166. That his deſign was to addreſs his voice to other dogs to open it to him, becauſe he hath no experience that dogs open doors, but that it is men which open them.
To clear this truth, I would counſel him to come to Paris to conſult with famous Montdory's Cat, which is ſo diſcreet that ſhe never means to come into the Chamber when ſhe finds it ſhut, ſhe only draws a little bell which hangs at the door, and if at firſt ſounding they come not, and open it, ſhe redoubles it untill ſhe be let in. I doubt not but that after having known, that no body troubled themſelves to teach her to draw the bell, and that of it ſelf this wiſe Beaſt did learn to imitate thoſe perſons which ſhe had ſeen do the ſame thing; I ſay I doubt not but he will judge either that the Cat it ſelf would anſwer him, if he would interrogate her thereupon, that ſhe had no deſign to call other Cats294 to open her the door, but thoſe perſons which were wont to do it. After all ſhould a Dog or a Cat addreſs its voice to other creatures, as in ſeveral incounters without doubt it may, and that they would not come to its aid, as M. C. ſays: what conſequence could he draw from thence, but that it were deceived in its deſign, as it happens to many who unprofitably demand ſuccour from thoſe who either cannot or will not give it them?
This is all what I had to ſay on what M.C. propoſed concerning the language of Beaſts, and which will alſo ſerve for an anſwer to what he objects againſt the other actions which they perform to make their thoughts known. For confeſſing that the geſture, the mind, and the look do it as well as the voice, he ſays as before, That its without deſign, and that there are the effects of their paſſions, of which Reaſon and deſign do not participate. But it's eaſie thereby to ſee that he confounds the deſign of the Underſtanding with that of the Imagination, as he hath done before. Wherefore I ſhall ſend him back to what we have already anſwered.
After all theſe proofs which evidently make it appear that Beaſts communicate their thoughts, and ſpeak together, had we not reaſon from thence to infer that they did reaſon? Not only becauſe M. C. finds this conſequence neceſſary, but alſo becauſe they cannot make their intentions known to demand help the one of another, with out forming a perfect Ratiocination. Seeing that there are ſo295 many ſeveral judgments to be made in theſe encounters, ſo many progreſſes which the ſoul makes from cauſes to their effects, from ſigns to things ſignified, and from goods and evils preſent to thoſe which are paſt and to come; that it's impoſſible but we muſt find it in the form and contexture of diſcourſe. All what M. C. oppoſeth hereunto, is, That he hath ſhewn how Beaſts communicate their thoughts, and how this communication may be made without Ratiocination. But if my memory be good, all his proof reduceth it ſelf into two Reaſons which we have deſtoyed; the one that they have no ſpeech; and the other, that they have no deſign or intention to make known their thoughts. In a word, we have proved the contrary, and conſequently according to M. C's Maxime, had we no other marks of their Ratiocination, it muſt follow that they reaſon, ſince we have made it appear that they ſpeak.
As for the example which we produced of a Hen which calls her Chikens to impart unto them the grain ſhe hath found, and that it muſt needs be that ſhe had a deſign to make them come to ſhew them their food, and to nouriſh them; And that they alſo muſt underſtand the voice which ſummons them, comprehend the thing which is ſignified by it, and hope for the good which it announceth. He anſwers only, That all this is done by inſtinct. But this is not to take away the difficulty; the queſtion is to know whether all theſe actions are done with knowledge ▪ For if it be ſo, we muſt alſo confeſs that there is a Ratiocination, ſince ſo many progreſſes of one knowledge to another, cannot be296 without diſcourſe. And it matters not whether it be done by inſtinct; for as fear which comes from inſtinct is a true fear, and is of the ſame ſpecies as is that which comes from elſewhere; the Ratiocination which precedes the Inſtinct muſt needs be a true Ratiocination, and of the ſame nature with the other. Now it is not to be conteſted but that there is a knowledge in all the actions which the Hen and Chickens do in the example we brought, deſign and intention being therein, as hath been demonſtrated. The Intention, foraſmuch as it is the motion of the Appetite which tends toward good; & that the Hen and Chicken will do the things they do, and conſequently form the deſign thereof, which is a motion of the Appetite whith tends toward the good. The deſign becauſe it's a propoſition which the faculty makes to execute what it finds uſeful, which ever goes before the intention, and which conſequently precedes the deſire of the Hen and of the Chicken; They agitate them with knowledge; that's to ſay, they conceive the things which they judge good, and that they from thence draw thoſe conſequences which we have obſerved; all the difference which the Inſtinct brings thereunto, is, that the ſenſes furniſh them not with all the things which they know, and the greateſt part of the objects of their knowledge muſt come from elſewhere. But whence ſoever they come, they form images thereof, and afterwards unite them together, wherein all knowledge conſiſts: And were there any exterior thing intervening amongſt theſe actions, it would be as a help, and not as a principle, becauſe they are vital actions, whoſe faculties which are born with the297 Animal, are the firſt and laſt cauſes. But we ſhall more carefully examine this in the Diſcourſe of the Inſtinct. Let's then conclude and ſay with M. C. that as Reaſon is but an internal word, external Speech is inſeparable from it; and if nature hath given to Animals internal ſpeech, ſhe muſt alſo have given them external speech. But yet ſince external ſpeech is inſeparable from the internal, it muſt needs be that if Nature hath given them external ſpeech, ſhe muſt alſo have given them internal ſpeech, which is Reaſon. Now Animals have the thought as M.C. confeſſeth, and thought is nothing but internal Speech, as all our Maſters conſent, and therefore Animals have reaſon, ſince reaſon as M C. ſays, is but an internal ſpeech, Beſides, ſince we have demonſtrated that they have external ſpeech, it follows that if it be inſeparable from internal ſpeech, of neceſſity they muſt have Reaſon. Yet do not I ground on this all this ratiocination, and have only produced it to make it appear that M.C. hath as weakly eſtabliſhed his own opinion, as he hath deſtroyed that of another mans. For to ſhew you that Beaſts do not ſpeak, he makes uſe of a paralogiſm, which may be retorted againſt him, and proves quite the contrary to what he pretends. It's true, that Reaſon is an internal ſpeech, but it is not true that all Internal ſpeech is Reaſon. And had no Beaſts Reaſon it would not follow they might not have external ſpeech, becauſe external ſpeech expreſſeth as well ſimple as compoſed thoughts. But I ſhall ſay further, That although they have the internal ſpeech, it's no conſequence that they muſt have the external ſpeech, ſince there are Animals which are dumb which forbear not to298 have internal ſpeech. Thus internal ſpeech is not inſeparable from external, as he ſays; thus the conſequence which he draws from ſo ill a Ratiocination cannot but be very ill.
The examples he produceth in purſuit to prove That when Beaſts run to the cry of others, they know not that this cry is a means, or that its uſed to call them; Theſe examples I ſay, do not conclude better then the reſt of his Reaſons. For beſides that they are drawn from another gender of things then thoſe we ſpeak of, and which conſequently cannot decide the matter in queſtion; ſome do ſuppoſe that Judgment and Ratiocination cannot be made without time; which we have already demonſtrated, is not alwaies neceſſary. And from the reſt we can infer nothing but that the judgment and the diſcourſe of the Underſtanding concur not to the actions of Beaſts, which is a uſeleſs and ridiculous conſequence, ſince all the world knows that they want Underſtanding.
In effect, the firſt example is, of a man who going to ſee his friend, with an intention to laugh with him, finds his eyes in fire, and his face awry for this ſight ſurpriſeth and ſtops them, before he hath time to diſcourſe and ſo much as to judge that he is in wrath. But he preſuppoſeth, as we have ſaid, That ſuch a man muſt have time to judge and to reaſon, which is nothing neceſſary; for at the very moment he ſees the marks of anger, he may judge and conclude that his friend is angry. Indeed he may doubt whether299 thoſe marks proceed from that paſſion, and ſo may ſuſpend his judgment; bu it would ſtill be true that he reaſoned; foraſmuch as to doubt, a man muſt reaſon, and have reaſons on both ſides which muſt hold the mind in ſuſpence.
The ſecond is, Of thoſe who knowing the ſweetneſs of ſome perſons minds, forbear not when they accoſt them to reſent ſome ſtraint which the ſeverity of their countenance cauſeth. For ſays he, this conſtraint is not an effect of their judgment, no more then the reſpect which at firſt we have for a man of a good mind, or well apparalled, although we know that his inſide is not anſwerable to his appearance, nor to his cloths. It is not indeed the Underſtanding which judgeth and concludes upon the occaſions; 'tis the imagination which lets it ſelf be won by appearances, and thereby judgeth of things. For ſince that ſeeing a man of a good mind, we find our ſelves as it were obliged to be civil to him; It's a conſequence drawn from what appears to our eyes. Now 'tis not the Underſtanding which judgeth ſo, as M. C. will have it, it muſt needs therefore be the imagination. So that this example ſerves for nothing but to ſhew that Beaſts perform aims, which the Underſtanding doth not contribute unto, becauſe it excludes not the judgment of the imagination, but only that of the ſuperior part which is not here in queſtion.
The third is of a child which cries when the Nurſe ſhews it a ſour look, without judging thereby that ſhe is in an ill humor, and threatens it; its ſufficient that the geſture is extraordinary, and that all that is extraordinary aſtoniſheth the imagination, and angers it. But it is not ſufficient thus crudely and indigently to298〈1 page duplicate〉299〈1 page duplicate〉300advance things. He ſhould prove that this Childe makes no judgment; for I hold abſolutely the contrary; For that he cannot cry without reſenting the motion of ſome angry paſſion, and that paſſion never forms it ſelf but the ſoul muſt have the knowledge of the object which excites it, whether it be true, or whether ſhe imagine it to be ſo; and in purſuit that ſhe doth not the actions with the circumſtances, we have obſerved in ſeveral places of the third part of this Work, which ſhe can never do without reaſoning, as we have ſhewed in thoſe places; and therefore it muſt needs be that the child which cries muſt not onely make judgment, but alſo muſt needs reaſon. For although M.C. ſays, That it's ſufficient if the Nurſes geſture be extraordinary to this child, and that all what is extraordinary aſtoniſheth the imagination, and angers it; I ſhall confeſs although this require a reſtriction, there being many things which are extraordinary to children which anger them not. But this is to fall again on the ſame difficulty, becauſe there extraordinary things anger not the imagination, but that ſhe muſt make a Ratiocination, as elſewhere we have declared.
And this Anſwer ought to ſerve to what he hath added, p. 171. That the Paſſions are contagious; than there need but one ſad perſon in a company to make them all of the ſame humor; and that as joy makes a man ſing and dance without deſign, ſo alſo ſinging and dancing makes a man rejoyce. For ſays he, that all theſe things are done without diſcourſe, and without Ratiocination that all troubleſom or pleaſing objects move the Appetite without the intention of Reaſon; and that it's ſo that we make little children laugh when they301 laugh; that ſighings and groanings, and even muſical tunes make ſuch an impreſſion on our minds; that to conclude, we make children, and even men themſelves turn their heads when they are called, before thoſe have the uſe of reaſon, or thoſe the time to reaſon, and often even againſt their intention. All this I ſay is only to be underſtood or the ſuperior and intellectual Reaſon, and doth not enclude that which the imagination may and ought to form in theſe encounters. Wherefore all the conſequences he draws from thence, & which he applies to the actions of Beaſts, are vain, and concern not the difficulty in hand.
I leave what he ſaith, pag. 173. That there is no likelihood that Beaſts ſhould not move themſelves unleſs by the force of Syllogiſms; and before they ſhould be drawn by a voice, they must make at leaſt twenty five Ratiocinations. For beſides that his calculation is not very juſt, we have anſwered to theſe kind of objections in ſeveral places of this work, and principally in the third Chapter of the third Part. And as for what he maintains, That there follows no inconvenience to ſay, That this mutual intelligence which is to be found in Animals of the ſame Species, proceeds altogether from the Inſtinct: We conſent thereunto, ſo as he will but be better inſtructed concerning the nature of the Inſtinct then he is, and remember himſelf of what we lately ſaid. That Inſtinct hinders not but that actions might be done with knowledge, and that the Animal is not the principal and immediate cauſe thereof.
Let's conclude with that fair Obſervation M.C. hath made p. 173. upon what I have ſaid, That he that ſhould well mind the language of Birds, would302 make no difficulty to beleeve that Tyreſias, Melampus, and Apollonius hath formerly underſtood it. For he hath unlinked this obſervation out of its place, that he might take the liberty to make on it the longer a cenſure, and hath placed it at the end of his Chapter, as a Morrer-peece of his munition, and of his addreſs. And truly I confeſs, that he is not ignorant in Fables, and that he very well knows the adventures of Tyreſias, and the genealogy of Melampus. And I alſo profeſs he makes as ill uſe of the Artifice of an Orator, who ſeeks to render odious or ridiculous what is propoſed by his Adverſary. For who is there, who knowing that I ſpeak of Tyreſias and Melampus, which are names onely to be found in the Fable, as M. C. aſſures us, would not with him ſay, That a cauſe hath very great need of help, when it makes uſe of ſuch baſe authorities?
But to defend my ſelf from his Artifice, and to diſabuſe thoſe he might have perſwaded, I have nothing elſe to ſay, but that although I have ſpoken of Tyreſias, of Melampus, and Apollonius, I have not made uſe of their authority, neither did I aſſure that what was ſpoken of them was falſe or true. It was alſo a thing which to me ought to be indifferent, and what-ever it were, I might reaſonably ſay that who would well obſerve the language of Birds, would make no difficulty to beleeve that they had formerly underſtood it. There are but few things in Fables, whence as much may not be ſaid, when a truth is diſcovered which hath relation to it. Why may we not ſay after the experiences we have ſeen in our time, ſome Girls that have303 changed Sex, that there were no difficulty to believe what the Poets have related of Iphis? Yet its a name to be found only in the Fable, no more then that of Tyreſias. And no man will ſay that in this encounter we uſe the authority of Poets, and the example of Iphis to prove that this change may be done naturally, ſince on the contrary it's the experience we bring which gives a likelihood to what they have ſaid. So far from it is from it that my cauſe ſhould need ſo idle an authority, and the example of Tyreſias and Melampus which are onely to be found in Poets, that its that which authoriſeth them, and which of fabulous which they were, renders them credible; and any equitable perſon may judge, that its a conſequence which I draw from the truths which I have eſtabliſhed, and not as M. C. ſays, that its a proof and an authority with which I would maintain them.
This is all I had to ſay on the third Objection which was made againſt the reaſon of Animals. There remains yet one of the Inſtinct, which ſhould terminate this diſcourſe; But indeed it deſerves an intire Volume, and there are ſo many things to be examined, and there are ſo many things which rob me of the time I need; that being not able ſo readily to put my laſt hand to it, I thought that M C. might no longer languiſh in the expectation he had I ought to divide my anſwer, and give him that which concerns the Raciotinacion of Beaſts, till I could end that of the Inſtinct. And indeed had it been ready, it would have troubled my conſcience to have afflicted M C. with the ſight of ſo great a Volume. Nay, even I ſhould have had the ſame304 apprehenſion to have kept off our Judges by the length of our indifference, and with ſo great a number of pieces which were to be examined. After all, the retrenchment I make of that part of our conteſt will not wrong this which I now preſent. For were it true, that Beaſts did not reaſon in thoſe actions which they do by Inſtinct, there are ſeveral others enough in which Inſtinct hath no ſhare, which evidently make it appear that they reaſon, as thoſe acts which they do out of cuſtom by inſtruction, and generally all thoſe which they do with knowledge. So the proof of their Ratiocination remains all intire, although we ſpeak not of the Inſtinct, and what ever might be ſaid of it.
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