MY LORD,
I come now to pay
your
••
lordship the debt
I haue owed you euer since our
long discourse in one of the sideChappels
of S. Germanes church;
when we spent most part of the
afternoone in examining and weighing,
which of the seuerall Religions
that att present haue course
in the world, a prudent man
should rationally venture his soule
vpon. It seemed to me that it was
not a small
••••
pe I had aduanced in
obtaining your assent to the Catholike,
when your lordship acknowledged
great defects of seuerall kindes,
in all others, and that ours, was
adorned with more comelinesse and
Maiesty, was maintained with more
orderlynesse and prudence, was propped
with more powerfull meanes to
preserue vnity among the professors,
and in the generall course of
it was replenished with more efficacious
motiues to incite men to the
loue of God, then any of the others.
But withall, you professed that
there were some particulars of so
harddigestion in it, as you could
not winne of your selfe to yield your
assent vnto them; Nor were persuade
••
that the authority from whence
we receiue our faith was infallible,
but that in all those particulars
it had varyed and swarued
from what in the beginning was
taught by Christ and had bin preached
throughout the world by his
Apostles. What I replyed hereunto,
seemed to your lordship out of the
ordinary tracke of those who now
adayes vse to handle controuersies.
And it is but iust, that to so sublime
a witt as yours is, arguments of
a higher straine should be offered
then such as are pressed to vulgar
capacities. For as the ordinary sort
of mankinde, haue their vnderstanding
satisfyed with barely looking
vpon God in quality of a Iudge,
that punisheth or rewardeth
according as men haue obeyed or
transgressed his lawes: so is the enquiry
of what they are to do or beleeue,
at an end, when those vnto
whose conduct Gods prouidence
hath committed them, do pronounce
his decrees to them in a legislatiue
way. But so piercing a iudgement
as yours that knoweth there
is an orderly and naturall connexion
betweene all causes and their
effects, and that suspecteth, not God
Almighty of hauing bound mankinde
to a meere arbitrary law for the bare
shewing of his authority and the
exercising of their obedience; will
not be appayed, without hauing some
scantling of the Why; aswell as
of the What, you are to do and to
beleeue. Should we therefore apprehend
their lott to be the worse,
that are endowed with the eminentest
talents; since so much labor
and paines is necessary to the quieting
of their doubts; when as simple
people acquiesce so easily to what
they are plainely taught? Nothing
lesse. For though it is true, the
difficulty be great in ouercoming
their strong resistance: yet, that
once done, the vigorous progresse
they afterwardes make, recompenseth
to the full the precedent paines
in wrestling with their reluctant
imaginations and their opposing
reasons. Whereas new stormes are
easily raised by any crosse wind that
shall blow vpon the others flexible
nature. S. Augustines long irresolutenesse,
his anxious seeking of
truth, and his difficult rendring him
selfe vnto it, was followed and crowned
with admirable perfection in his
owne particular, and with vnspeakable
aduantages to the Church of
God in generall: so as he is the
onely saint in heauen after S. Paul,
that hath the day of his conuersion
celebrated in the Church. Hence
is it that I am not one of those who
wonder that your lordship is so long
before you come into the fould
that encloseth and secureth vs.
You were not whom I take you to
be, if you should yield vp your
weapons before you were fully conuinced;
or be conuinced before you
haue searched into the bottome of
the question. To putt you into
the way of receiuing an entire happy
defeate in this conflict, I tooke
the freedome to represent vnto you
such considerations as had bin heretofore
most preualent with me,
when I had great vnquietnesse in
beleeuing what I was taught till my
reason was conuinced that I should
do vnreasonably if I gaue not my
assent thereunto. Not that I am
so vaine as to thinke that my proper
poore stocke can furnish ought
that you already abound not more
plentifully with. But it hath bin
my good fortune; (that is to say,
Gods Grace hath bin so mercifull
to me;) that I haue mett with a knowing
and iudicious guide, to leade
me through this darke and intricate
labyrinth. What I had formerly
deriued from him for my
owne satisfaction in this matter, I
tendered to you for yours. And
wherein I fell short
••
by deliuering
you but a lame coppy (according
to my meane skill) of so excellent
an originall, I referred you either
to his learned writinges or to his
fuller conuersation. For your lordship
knoweth, he beareth you so
great respect, that vpon any least
intimation from you, he would purposely
make a iorney to you from
any remote place to do you seruice.
In the meane time, I endeauoured
to take a suruay as well as
I could of the whole race that Man
runneth; from the first moment of
his being produced a reasonnable
creature, to the last periode of his
iorney, when he is settled for euer
in a state of permanency. For in
such a subiect, the symmetry of the
whole, and the due cohoerence of
the partes, are of great weight with
prudent and solide men. This can
not be completely nor orderly done,
without first settling firmely
the fundamentall principle, That
Mans soule is immortall and incorruptible,
and suruiueth aeternally
after the death of te body. In the
next place, I applyed my selfe to
shew , how the different courses of
liuing in this world, do begett in the
future, different conditions of happinesse
or misery, each of them exceeding,
beyond all conceiuable pr
••
portion,
the goods or euils of this
life. Then, vpon consideration of
the difficulty, or rather impossibility,
for mankinde to arriue to the
assured knowledge of those pathes
which are necessary for him to walke
in to bring him to Beatitude, that
so his steppes might be steady and
bold ones; I concluded, that since
God would have dealed more hardly
with mankinde then with all
other creatures besides, if to euery
one of them he had assigned due
and proportionable meanes to bring
them to the vtmost periode of their
nature, and should haue left onely
him in the darke among ineuitable
precipes; It was certaine he had bequeathed
to him a science or art
whereby to gouerne himselfe and
steere his course so as to be able to
arriue safely into his wished hauen,
and to that end which he was created
for. And lastly, I vrged, that
since the men who liue in ages after
his who taught them this science
(which we call Religion) can not
be conceiued to receiue it immediatly
from hismouth; They would fall
backe to an ince
••
itude and distressed
condition equall to the former, if
he had not settled as infallible a meanes
to conuey entirely to them this
science, as in it selfe it is an infallible
guide so bring them to Beatitude.
And thence I proceeded
to
••
stablish that rule wich keepeth
vs Catholikes in vnity among our
selues, and in security that wee
are in the right way.
This was the scope of our conference
then: which comprising so
many, so weighty, and so difficult
pointes, that a few houres conuersation
was too scanty a time to discusse
them as they ought to be; I promised
to giue your lordship in writing
a summary collection of some
of the most important reflections I
had made vpon them. The doing
whereof, is the subiect of the following
discourse.
THE FIRST CHAPTER
Of mistaken demonstrations.
IN this course that I haue proposed
to my selfe, my first endeauour
must be to prooue, that the
soule of man is immortall; neither
dying when the body dyeth;
nor being liable to corruption or destruction
after it is seuered from the
body, either through defectible
principles in it selfe, or by the violence
of any outward agent working
vpon it. I conceiue I haue fully
performed this in a former treatise,
that I haue written vpon this
subiect. But I may resonably apprehend
that the length of that,
and the heape of various arguments
cumulated there one vpon another,
may not obtaine from a
••
person so
full of great employments as your
lordship is, that discussion which
belongeth to euery one of them in
particular, to be secure of the consequence
drawne out of them; which
requireth greater leisure, then your
actiue and solicitous charges do allow
you: And therefore I will here
select some few of the chiefe of
those which that treatise aboundeth
with; And will endeauour to make
them as plaine as I can, that the
discerning of the demonstration
which I conceiue is contained in
them, may not oblige you to labouring
meditation, and Metaphysicall
abstractions (in which no
man can fly with a stronger wing
then you, when your leisure
can allow you the time and quiett
of minde that is necessary for such
entertainements) But may be obuious
to you vpon such present reflection
as the multitude of your
present affaires can afford you. My
ayme, and hope, is to prooue this
truth fully and euidently: That is to
say , to make a firme demonstration
of it; against which no solide opposition
can be produced to weaken
it; and by which a iuditious and
subtile vnderstanding shall be fully
appayed and quieted. To know
when that is done, it will not be
amisse (before we enter into the
substance of the question) to consider
in short, the nature of a true
demonstration; that so we may be
sure not to be deceiued by seeming
proofes: which how many or how
plausible soeuer, can but persuade
opinion; neuer force assurance.
Some there haue beene, who
haue thought that a multitude of
reasons, may haue the force to
proue and conuince that, which no
one of them single, can reach to
do. As particularly in our present
case; they produce for the soules
immortality, numerous testimonies
of great men, both such as
haue beene eminent in naturall
knowledge, and such as are estimed
for supernaturall illuminations;
and to these, they adde their
owne morall and naturall considerations:
for example; that, since it
can not be doubted but that God
is both wise and iust, and consequently
will reward or punish euery
man according as he hath deserued
or demerited; and yet we see that
such lottes do not alwayes betyde
men in this life; It followeth, that
there must be an other life after this
here, wherein men shall reape the
haruest they haue sowne vpon the
earth. Againe; That, seing all creatures
who haue soules do moue
themselues; and that no inanimate
creature, can do so; It followeth,
that the soule is the vertue and
principle by which an animal is
mooued. But if the soule can make
an other thing mooue it selfe, it
cannot be doubted but that she
hath in her selfe the power of mouing
her owne selfe. Now, life
consisting in a thing's mouing it
selfe, it is cleare that what can do
so, hath within it selfe wihout the
helpe of ought else, a principle of
liuing; and consequently is not subiect
to dying. Afterall these, and
many more suche plausible arguments,
they conclude, that howbeit
neuer a one of them alone
can be accounted a demonstration,
yet all of them in bulke haue the
strength to conuince and quiett a
rationall man. I wil not here examine
what force they may haue
ouer the vnderstanding of a morall
prudent person, who in debates before
him vseth to inquire no further
then whether side is the more
grauely and the more learnedly disputed:
But most certaine it is, that
if they come before a subtile Metaphysitian
or a cunning Logitian,
they will fall mainely short. Fo
••
when such a one shall haue rigorously
discussed each particular argument,
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and shall haue found
euery one of them to be deficient
in some regard or other; he will
conclude, that no more then many
nothinges can euer be multiplyed
so as to make somethings; no
otherwise can neuer so many apparent
proofes (which being but such,
are in truth no proofes) euer arriue
to constitute one reall proofe.
Others there are, who fixing
themselues vpon some one argument,
do not consider in it the materiall
nature of it; That is to say,
what connexion the medium on
which they build their proofe, hath
with the effect or proposition that
they conclude out of it: but onely,
whither their argument be difficult
to be solued, or no. As for example;
a person of great eminency
and reputation for learning, did
vse to putt the following argument
to proue that it was possible for Infinite
to haue an actuall and reall
being: Namely. There is no inconuenience
that God almighty should
produce att one instant as many Angels
as he can produce in that instant.
Suppose then that he doth so.
Which if he do, the multitude of them
wil be greater then any determinate
number whatsoeuer; and consequently,
that multitude will be infinite.
Therefore an infinite multitude
is not impossible. This argument
hath perplexed many great wits and
learned men: But if we looke strictly
vpon it, we may obserue how it
it is not formed out of the notion
of the subiect in question
(that is, of infinite) but, out of
the quality of God almighty and
the Logicall notion of Possibility:
And so, may be a hard argument,
but not a demonstration, And will
appeare to be a fallacy, if one reflecteth
that the notion of infinity
may agree to a thing in potentia,
but not to a thing in Act: And therefore
it can not be supposed that
God hath done or will do all that he
can do. According to which course,
if in this question of the soules immortality,
they frame a subtile argument
out of what is common to
all formes, or out of the nature
common to all soules; and withall
discerne not how it may be vntyed;
They presently persuade themselues
they haue demonstrated what
they intended. Nay, though their
discourse be drawne but out of the
Logicall notions of contraries, of
antecedents, and consequents, or
out of some parity betweene the
subiect they treate of and some
other they compare it to; they
••
traight flatter themselues with a
conceit that they are arriued to
science in that point. Not considering,
that to know, requireth that
one be absolutly certaine that his
proofe be a firme demonstration;
and not onely, that it be such an
implicated Gordian knotte, as
that neither he himselfe nor any
others he hath yet mett with, are
able to vntie it; but that truly and
really, of its owne nature, it be impossible
to be vntyed and solued.
And ordinarly, they who ground
their discourse vpon common and
remote propositions (as for example,
they who vse Lullies art) do
vnwarily slide ouer some vnsound
steppe betweene the axiome they
rely on, and the conclusion they
would inferre, which they see not.
Whence it happeneth, that such
manner of arguing, rather serueth
for ostentation, then to acquire
true knowledge. And as for such
Logicall termes as we haue aboue
mentioned; it seldome happeneth
but that they are lyable to some
aequiuocation or other; which
quite enerueth the force of any
proofe deriued from them.
Both these sortes of persons do
erre in assenting too lightly to an
apparent proofe, and in taking
that for a demonstration which in
effect is none. But a third sort there
is, who faile on the contrary side;
by conceiuing that a demonstration
is neuer made, as long as any
thing can be vrged against the Conclusion
prooued by it. This ariseth
from a great deficiency both of
witt and of Iudgement. Of iudgement;
because they are not able
to discerne the euidence of a discourse
in it selfe, but are faine to
looke into externall accidents to
frame their opinion of it. And of
witt; in that they obserue not how
the force and subtility of mans
witt is so great, as to speake (and
that, most ingeniously too) in opposition
of such thinges as are most
manifest. Zeno, euen whiles he
walked with him that he disputed
with, would be thought haue to demonstrated
that it was impossible any
thing could be moued in the world
from one place to another. Anaxagoras
was as peremptory that
snow was blacke. We find ingenious
Orations and whole bookes,
whose scopes are to extoll the greatest
defects and blemishes of nature,
as baldnesse, lamenesse,
blindnesse, vnreasonablenesse, and
the like. What can be more euident
then that 2. and 2. do make 4?
yet Aristotle telleth vs, that 2. and
2. are are two distinct numbers; and
that 4. is but one number; and
consequently, that 2. and 2. are
not 4. And to conclude, the Academikes
or sceptikes haue laboured
with much industry to take away
all certainty. He were a weake man
that would retaine his assent from
an euident conclusion as long as
subtile or cauilling disputants do
catch att ought to oppose against
it. But a iudicious person, when he
seeth a solide demonstration vpon
any subiect, is not att all shaken
by any thorny difficulties that
acute sophisters endeauour to implicate
him in; which though att
the first sight they may a while perplexe
him; yet he is sure that with
orderly reflection and due attention
to euery ioint and progresse of
their arguments, they are to be
vnfolded and displayed, and the
inconsequence of them to be made
appeare.
THE SECOND CHAPTER.
Of the trew nature of demon
stration.
THat then which importeth vs
mainely not to erre in, is in
iduging when a perfect demonstration
is produced. The trew nature
of such a proofe requireth, that
it make the reader or the hearer
see euidently that the conclusion
is directly so as the demonstrator
auoucheth it to be, and that it is
impossible it should be otherwise.
Neither haue we reason to suspect
that this can not be performed aswell
in other sciences as in Geometry;
Seeing that there are definitions
in all sciences as well as in
it; and that the termes of these
definitions are linked together:
And therefore it is obuious, that
one conclusion maybe euidently and
demonstratiuely drawne out of another.
This can not happen in a
scientificall discourse, vnlesse that
which is taken to proone, be either
the cause or the effect of that
which is proued. But if there be any
failure in either of these, then the
demonstration can not be a perfect
one. And though in substance it
should not be deficient; yet att the
least it would be superproportioned
on one side, and not according to
the strict rules of art; which requireth
that euery truth be proued
by his proper cause. As for
example; if Rationality, of its owne
nature, and out of the force of Rationality,
be the cause of immortality;
It followeth euidently that
whatsoeuer is Rationall is immortall.
And contrariwi
••
e; if Immortality,
precisely by being such, do make
the subiect vnto which it belongeth,
to be Rationall; It followheth that
nothing can be immortall but it
must also be Rationall. So that if
either of these be so, he who considereth
these two termes, seeth clearely
that of necessity
••
both of them
must belong to what subiect soeuer
he findeth either of them to reside in;
And why it is so; and that it is impossible
it should be otherwise. But if
a third thing or terme, be cause of
both; or be the cause of the one and
be caused by the other ; then the
demonstration is mediate, and as it
were a double one: As, if immateriality
be the adaequate cause both
of rationality and of immortality;
it is euident that whatsoeuer is rationall
is immortall. But where
the one side is superproportioned;
the proofe, though in substance it
be true, yet is it not a proper and
a perfect one. As for example; if
one should proue any thing to belong
to a man because he is a sensible
creature; the effect, though
it be in him, yet is it not peculiar
to him, but common to all irrationall
animals as well as to him.
Such were the considerations that I
had when I composed the two treatises
out of which I concluded the
immortality of Mans soule. For in
them, this is the scope of my discourse:
Corporeity and mortality,
are adaequate to one another; the
first as cause, the second as effect:
But a Rationall soule, is not corporeall:
Therefore, not mortall.
The subsumption I made euident,
by shewing, that all operations whatsoeuer
among bodyes, are performed
by the disposure of grosse and
subtile, or of dense and rare, partes;
and that what can not be effected
by such, is not the operation
of a body. For, the nature of a
body (in as much as it is a body)
is nothing else but to be a thing capable
of diuision; or, that hath a possibility
of being made many (which
amounteth to as much, as to be
lyable to destruction; since the diuision
of the partes that do essentially
compose any thing, is the
destruction of it.) And the origidall
difference of bodies, is, that
some are more subiect to such diuision,
that is are more easily diuided;
others with greater difficulty;
which resulteth meerely out of the
partes being grosser or subtiler. So
that , seeing the very essence of a
body is, to be a collection of such
partes; It is euident that what can
not be performed by such partes,
is beyond the orbe of sole and meere
bodies, and cannot be atchieued
by them. It is trew, that in all
the first treatise, which is of the
nature of Bodies, I haue neither
established nor made any mention
of this Principle; but haue reserued
it to the second, where I make
vse of what is settled in the former
to discouer the nature of the
soule: And the reason why I haue
done so, is, because the slight mocke-Philosophy
of this Age, not
reaching to comprehend the true
difference betweene a body and a
spirit, easily swalloweth spirituall
qualities in bodies, and as familiarly
attributeth corporeall proprieties
to spirits: And therefore I was obliged
to runne briefely ouer the nature
of all bodies, and to shew how
all their operations (euen the
most refined ones, and that sauour
most of a spirituall nature) may be
performed by the meere disposition
of grosse and subtile partes; there
by to preuent the obiections that
might be made me from such corporeall
actions as vulgar Philosophy
dispatcheth like spirituall
ones. And I thought is not sufficient
for a iuditious readers satisfaction,
to do this onely by bare
casting a composition in the ayre; as
Monsieur des Cartes & some others
haue very ingeniously attempted
to do: but I haue endeauoured to
strengthen the proofes rising from
the force of discourse, by accompanying
them with such further obseruations
as do clearely euince
that whither or no I hitt right on all
the particular lines that I trace out
for the performance of those actions,
yet it can not be doubted but
that their causes are comprised vnder
those heads I haue there established;
and that the wayes by which
they are brought to effect, are not
vnlike, (if not the very same) to
those that I haue pitched vpon.
This being the
••
orke of the first
treatise; The second looketh into
the operations of a rationall soule;
And hauing discouered their nature,
it sheweth that they can not
be performed by the meere disposition
and ordering of grosse and
subtile partes of quantity or of a body;
and by consequence, that they
proceede from an immateriall and
spir
••
tuall substance. Now here, vse
is made of the former principle: for,
it being made euident, that nothing
but corporeity and diuisibility
is the cause of corruption, and of
subiecting the thinges where they
reside to the seruitude of Mortality;
it followeth indefectibly, that the
spirituall substance which we call a
soule, can not be mortall and corruptible.
This is the whole scope
and discourse of that booke: out
of which, for the reasons I haue
already touched, I will here select
onely three of the proofes contained
in the latter treatise, to shew
that our soule is a spirit, voyde of
all quantity and materiality.
THE THIRD CHAPTER.
The Immateriality of the soule
proved out of the Nature of
vniuersall termes or Pr
••
posi
••
ions.
THE first of them is drawne out
of the nature of vniuersall termes
or Propositions. Logicians do
define an Vniuersall terme or Notion,
To be that, which being the
same, may be aff
••
rmed of many. Metaphysicians
define it to be, Somewhat
that is the same in many. But to
speake more familiarly to common
sense, we may say, That it is, somewhat
which is any of m
••
ny. For when
we say, Peter is a man, Iohn is a man,
and Paul is a man; If Peter and man
be not the same thing, the saying is
false: And the like is of euery one
of the other two; to witt, if Iohn,
or Paul, be not a man. Againe;
seeing that one man is not two men;
If when I say, Peter is a man, the
thing which I say of Peter were the
same thing which is Iohn; Such my
saying would also be false; for, Peter
would be Peter and Iohn too, by
being the man which is both Peter
and Iohn. The notion therefore of
Man, which is truly reported both
of Peter and of Iohn; is not both Peter
and Iohn; but either Peter or Iohn.
And this is that which we call an
vniuersall. This being hitherto euident,
the demonstration proceedeth
thus: We see that the thing
which we call Peter or Iohn; doth gett,
by being in the soule, to be a thing
that is either Peter or Iohn: But this
condition or quality, to be either
this or that, or to be a thing that is
either this or that; can not be had or
gotten by the nature of a body, or
by the disposition of subtile and
grosse partes: Therefore, the soule
••
in, and by which, it getteth this
condition; is of a different nature
from Bodies. If here any one should
answere me, that howsoeuer our
wordes may seeme vnto him who
shall sticke and criticise vpon
them, to import that there is a notion
in our minde, when we speake
them, correspondent to those wordes;
which notion is no one of the
subiects it is affirmed of, and yet is
common to them all: Neuerthelesse,
if he looke carefully into his
minde, he shall finde that in truth
there is no nature of Vniuersality
there. For if he examine what picture
he hath in his braine when he
reflecteth vpon the notion of a man
which he calleth an Vniversall; he
shall finde there the image of some
particular and determinate man; and
no such thing as a man in common.
To such a person as should say thus,
I might reply, that to endeauour satisfying
him with a long discourse,
might seeme as ill placed
paines as if I should go about to
proue with learned arguments, that
there are such bodies in the world as
men call fire, water, earth, and
the like. For euery mans senses of
seeing and feeling, that are not depraued
and corrupted, do assure him
that they are, and that he continually
is conuersant with them. In
like manner, it is as euident to euery
man who hath common sense and
reason, and who reflecteth vpon
what passeth in his vnderstanding
when he speaketh suc
••
propositions,
or considereth such termes, as we
haue euen now insisted vpon; That
indeed there is an Vniuersality in
them. And therefore, if he be so
vnhappy and short sighted, as not to
discerne in his owne minde, that
which common and continuall experience
enforceth euery rationall
man who looketh into the nature
of vnderstanding and discourse, to
owne and confesse; he should, in
speculations of this nature, content
himselfe with belieuing the multitudes
of others who are capable of
iudging of them (as blind men,
ought to relye vpon those whose
eyes are not vitiated, in matter of
colours) and not hazard his actions
and his aeternall wellfare ( which dependeth
of his actions in this life)
vpon his owne soddaine and slight
conceit, in a matter whereof he hath
no skill: As they do, who to iustify
the strength of their wittes,
will not onely speake and argue,
but also liue, as though they belieued
there where no life for the soule
after the bodies death. But to
be more indulgent to him then so;
I shall desire him to examine his instance,
and to consider, that as when
a square (for example) or a triangle
delineated vpon paper, is proposed
vnto a Mathematician to
looke vpon, there by to discusse some
Geometricall proposition; though
that square or triangle there drawne,
be a particular determinate one, so
and so formed, of such and such precise
dimentions in each line and angle,
and the like: yet the figure that is
in his head, abstracteth from all those
particular circumstances that accompanye
either of these vpon the
paper, and agreeth to any square
or to any triangle imaginable, be
their lines neuer so long or short,
or drawne with red inke or with
blacke, &c. In the same manner,
that corporeall figure of a man which
appeareth to our reflexion and resideth
in our fantasy, is not the
notion of a man that we here meane
and speake of. But it is euident to
any one who shall looke heedefully
into his vnderstanding, that from
the particular picture of some one
man which his fantasy representeth
to him, his vnderstanding hath gathered
and framed a large notion of
man in generall, which is applicable
and indifferent to euery particular
indiuidualll man. As is euident, if
we looke into our owne meaning
and intention, and consider what
will satisfy vs; as when (for example)
I stand in neede of some one of my
seruants to do some thing about me
and therefore do call or ring a
bell for some of them to come to
me; which soeuer of those that
wayte without, cometh in, my turne
is serued and I am satisfyed.
In like manner, if a tenant is to
pay me ten pounds; It is allone to me,
whither he bringeth it in halfe crownes
or in shillinges or in six pences.
And therefore it is euident that my
intention aymeth no further then
att a common notion; and that I
know so much. Now, my intention
being regulated by my apprehension
preceding it; it is cleare that my
apprehension is also of the like nature;
that is to say, it is indifferent
and common to any one in particular.
It may be further obiected,
That from the apprehending of a
thing which is indifferent to many,
it can not be deduced that the apprehending
nature is not corporeall
but spirituall: for when we
looke vpon an obiect a farre off,
before we can distinguish enow
particulars of it, we are irresolute
what it is; whither (for example)
it be a horse, or an Oxe: And yet
no man will inferre out of such indifferency
that the eye in which it is,
is a spirit and not a body. To this
I answere, that the supposition is a
false one; there is no such indifferency
in the eye as is intimated: all
that is there, is precisely determinate:
For, the whole obiect, and euery
part of it, concurreth to the making
of the picture in the eye; and
consequently there must needes be
in the eye a representation of the
whole and of euery minute part of
it; which is, a complete determination
of it. Whence it appeareth, that
the indetermination we haue of the
obiect, is seated meerely in the vnderstanding;
which iudgeth it but
imperfectly, by reason of the weake
though entire picture that the obiect
hath imprinted in the eye. And
accordingly, a painter that were to
draw that obiect att that distance,
must comprise it within such lines
as the eye receiueth from it. But that
which in this case is indistinct and
indifferent, is our knowledge, which
resideth in our minde. For, it not
being able to determine by the figure
that the eye sendeth to the fantasy,
whither it be of an Oxe or of a
horse; remaineth suspended, with
an indifferency to attribute it either
to the one or to the other. It may
be further vrged; that such indifferency
of our soules thoughts, is no
argument of her being a spirit: for
if it were, spirituall substances
would be accompanyed with such
indifferency: the contrary whereof
••
is euident; seeing that no Angell
(for example) can be either Michael
or Gabriell; but is precisely
such a one determinate Angell, distinguished
from all others. To this
I answere, that I do not vrge such
indifferency as a condition propper
to spirits. For, in truth, they are
more determined then bodies, by
reason of their indiuisibility. The
which is seene in these very notions;
that are more determined
then the bodies from whence they
are drawne, merely because they
are in a spirituall subiect. But by
this indifferency in the vnderstanding,
springing from a determinate
obiect; and by such transformation
there, of corporeall natures, to a
quite different manner of being
then they are in themselues; I gather
a different nature (that is, a
spiriturll one) in the subiect where
they are thus transformed. For, that
bodies can be in our minde (as they
are when we thinke of them) notwithstanding
such indifferency
(which accordeth not with their na
••
ure)
is an euident freeing of the
minde from corporeall bondes.
Now, that such a nature as this,
of indifferency to distinct and different
thinges; can neither be in it selfe
corporeall, nor be represented by
bodies or by subtile and grosse partes
variously disposed; is so euident
that it were a vaine labour to go about
to prooue it. The meere casting
of our eyes vpon materiall thinges,
conuinceth it, without needing
further discourse. We can not conceiue
a chaire, a knife, a house, a
metall, a plant, an animall, or any
visible thing what soeuer, to be in it
selfe without an actual termination.
No Statue, no picture, no manufacture,
nor ought in the world (excepting
intellectuall expressions)
can be imagined to bee, without its
being con
••
ined in all determination
to such other bodies as comprise,
enuiron, & besett it. Whosoeuer can
doubt of this, is incapable of any euidence.
And consequently, where we
see an abstraction from all determination,
and such an indifferency as
we speake of; we may securely conclude,
that the subiect where it is
made and where it resideth, and
whence it hath it, is not of kinne to
bodies, but is immateriall and spirituall.
THE IV. CHAPTER.
The Immateriality of the soule,
proued out of the Natvre of
Vnderstanding.
THE second proofe of our
soule's immateriality and spirituality,
I deriue from her manner
of operation when she vnderstandeth
any thing. That which she then
doth, is to compare the thing by
her vnderstood, with some other;
and by the relation or respect that
is betweene them, she knoweth the
nature of that thing which she so
considereth or compareth. So that
we may conclude the particular prerogatiue
of a soule is, to haue or rather
to be, a power of comparing one
thing to another. And in truth, if we
looke well into the matter, we shall
perceiue that the notion which we
frame of her vnder this consideration,
compriseth all her whole negotiation.
For, when the notion of
Existence or Beeing is once imprinted
in the soule, all others what soeuer
are nothing else but respects to
Beeing. Thus, when we consider
what that is which we call a thing;
we find, it is that which hath Being;
or which can haue Being. The Quantity
of a thing, is, what respect a
determinate thing hath to the
Being of the world; which in plainer
termes is, how much such a thing
taketh vp of the extension that
stretcheth out or that belongeth to
the great bulke of what is corporeall.
The Quality of a thing is, what
relation or respect it hath to other
thinges that are of its owne nature
and line. The other seuen Praedicaments,
or Classes of notions, are
manifestly comparatiue betwixt diuers
thinges considered together:
All which I haue so fully explicated
in the second part of my discourse
of the Immortality of the soule, and
is in it selfe so plaine; that I will not
enlarge my selfe further vpon it
here, where for your sake I am as
succinct as I can; referring you to
that, if you should desire further
explication of this matter. Now
these tenne rankes, or rather generall
heads, of notions, comprising
all the thinges and creatures
that are or may be in the world; and
they being all of them comparatiue,
and nothing but respects of one
thing to an other: And all the working
of our soule, being grounded
vpon her notions: It followeth euidently,
that all her notions being
comparisons and respects, her nature
must necessarly be the power of
comparing or of making respects.
Which how plaine soeuer it be in
these notions of her first operation
or of single apprehensions; It is yet
clearer in her second operation of
deeming, iudging, or knowing. For,
this is nothing else but a comparing
of one notion to an other, and
of compounding them together: As
when we say, the wall is white, or
aman is a reasonnable creature, we
looke vpon the notions that we haue
of the extremes, and consider what
respect they haue to one an other;
and do find that they are vnited and
identifyed betweene themselues by
the force of Beeing. The very same
that we find of this second operation
of our soule, belongeth to her
third; which is but a multiplication
of her second: for, discourse is noething
else but a double or a treble
composition; which being taken in
pieces, euery one of them is a Iudgement
••
or enunciation: and consepuently,
the worke of comparing
which is performed in a Iudgement,
is but multiplyed or repareaed in a
discourse From these three operations
of the soule, do spring her
affections within her selfe, and her
proceeding to action without her.
For, according to the apprehensions
she maketh of thinges, and to
the Iudgements that she formeth
of them by comparing some of
those notions among themselues,
and to the consequences she draweth
out of a further composition
of iudgements; she is affected with a
liking or with a dislike of them: and
accordingly, proceedeth to action
for the acquiring or repelling of
them. Beyond this, our soule neither
doth nor can do any thing. All her
whole negotiation is comprised within
these limits. And in all this, there appearing
nothing but a power of comparing
and of referring one thing
to an other, It is most euident that
the nature of comparisons and of
respects must necessarily be the nature
of a soule, And that she is nothing
else but a thing or a power of
making Respects.
Lett vs then in the next place
consider what a respect is. Hath it
any dimensions? do any colors make
it visible? doth any figure or
shape belong to it? doth it take vp
any place? Or is it measured by
time? All these thinges do necessarily
accompany a body: And whatsoeuer
is a body, is affected by euery
one of them. But a respect, we
find hath neither length nor breadth,
nor is white or red or greene, nor
is square or round, hath no dependance
of time, and is so farre
from taking vp place or filling of
roome, that vnlesse both the termes
which we consider as respectiue to one
another, be indiuisibly together, there
is no nature of respect betweene
them. Thus, in the respect of Likenesse;
if you leaue out one of the
termes on which the comparison is
grounded, likenesse vanisheth; it is
lost. This square which resembleth
that other square, or this white wall
which in being white is like to that
other white wall; if you lay a side
the other square and the other white
wall, likenesse is gone, and there
remaineth nothing but a square figure,
or a white wall. None of the
Qualities or properties which inseparably
accompany bodies, haue
any thing to do with this notion, to
be like. It is euery way indiuisible. If
we aske our senses, they will tell vs,
that it is neither white nor blacke,
nor hott nor cold, nor smooth nor
rugged, nor sweete nor sower, nor
of any other qualification that they
are capable of discerning. And when
we turne to our inward Iudgement,
we shall find that all these thinges
and what soeuer can affect our senses,
are Respects. So that howeuer
our senses haue cognition of obiects
by a materiall participation of
them, our minde knoweth nothing
but by respects, nor can acquire any
knowledge but by them; and therefore,
to be able to know any thing,
she presently turneth it into respects;
And by doing thus, she is capable of
knowing all thinges. For, respects do
not hinder one an other. Bodies do
exclude other bodies, from the place
they possesse and fill. But respects,
are so farre from shouldering out
one an other, that they rather inferre
and draw in one an another.
And hence it is, that nothing can
escape the knowledge of a soule,
if she were not clogged by her body.
Now, to make vse of what we
haue here explicated of the soules
working by respects; and of the nature
of a respect; let vs returne to
our Principle, that what soeuer is
done among bodies, is performed by
the disposition of grosse and subtile partes;
and examine, what disposition
or ordering of such partes, can make
a respect. Wee see well, that
the thinges which are compared
and are respectiue to one an other,
haue partes. The wall that is like
to an other wall, hath partes:
And that other wall to which this
is like, hath also partes: But all
that which their partes can effect
about each of them, is but to make
them be white, It is not they that
make their likenesse. What new
partes must there be added, or how
must these that are already there
be placed and ranked, to make the
walles like? My eye seeth each of
them to be white, and my hand feeleth
each of them to be rough: yet
neither my eye nor my hand determineth
them to be like. But my vnderstanding,
which neither toucheth nor
seeth them; yet by comparing the
one of them to the other; findeth
them to be like, which their generation
did not make them to be.
So strange and so different from
the nature of bodies is the nature
of the soule.
••
I will not be so prodigall of your
lordships time, or so abuse your
patience, as to apply my selfe here
to answere a slight obiection that
may be made from the petty apprehensions
of some moderne Philosophers
of the schooles, who conceire,
that as well grosse bodies as
the sub
••
iler soule are stored with
respects; and consequently, that
according to what I haue said, those
bodies should be immateriall, and
spirits: which being euident that
they are not, the soules being stored
with like respects, can not be
an argument of her immateriality.
Thus, when they explicate the nature
of grauity (for example) they
tell vs, it is a quality whose nature
is to haue a respect to the center
of the world: When they teach
vs what the power of seeing in an eye
is; they tell vs as grauely as if they
bettered our knowledge much, That
it is a quality, whose nature is to
haue a respect to the animals action
of seeing. When they explicate what
it is to be in a place, they tell vs it is
an entity in the thing placed; whose
nature is to be a respect to the
thing (or to the nothing, if you
please; when they will haue it be
in Spatio imaginario) that is called
Place. And the like empty imaginations,
by which they confound
the common notions of thinges,
making all Praedicaments to be relations,
and affixing to them a surname
of Transcendentall. For, such
discourses are so wretched and so
pittifull ones, that I thinke a neglect
is fitter for them here, then in disputing
against them to loose time,
which should be better spent: Especially
to your lordship, whose sharpe
eyes wi
••
l at the first sight looke
through the inanity and vacuity of
them.
THE V. CHAPTER.
The Immateriality of the soule,
proued out of her manner of
knowing obiects without her.
THe third proofe of our soules
spirituality, I deduce from her
manner of knowing the obiects that
are out of her. For the better explication
of this point, I will make
vse of a corporeall example; which
howbeit it falleth farre short of
the wonderfull operation of the soule
in this particular, yet it will conduce
much to the illustration of
it. Be pleased to reduce into
your remembrance (my Lord) how
you and I comming one morning
into a faire ladyes chamber, (I am
sure you will not haue forgotten,
not be to seeke, whom I meane)
we surprised her so attentiue vpon
her looking glasse, as if she had bin
discoursing with the faire image
that she contemplated there. She
was so pleased with gazing vpon
that beautifull resemblance which
her selfe made, as for a while she
scarce tooke notice of our being att
each hand of her: by which meanes
we enjoied aswell as she, the same
pleasing sight; till her ciuility making
her turne from it towardes vs,
bereaued vs of that picture, which
our eyes must haue bin loosers to haue
changed for any other obiect but
the originall that shee then shewed
vs. And euen then, looking vpon
her face, how louely soeuer it was;
our eyes could discerne no aduantage
it had, of the faire picture in the
glasse; so exactly was it drawne. Now
if we aske the vulgar Philosophers
of the schooles, how this so liuely
and so like representation of this
ladyes face was made in the glasse
they will tell vs, that the superficies
or out side of that cristalline
body, was imbued, or as it were
tincted and dyed into the very substance
of it, with a certaine representatiue
quality, whose nature is
to make it be like vnto the obiect
or imbuing beauty opposed before
it; in such sort, and as truly, as the
quality of whitenesse maketh a wall
white, or as quantity maketh a body
become great. Now, because likenesse
is defined, to be an imperfect
vnity betweene two obiects that are
like one an other (for, likenesse is
euer accompanyed with some vnlikenesse;
else, they would be no longer
like, but the same) we may safely
say, that as farre as the looking
glasse agreeth by its likenesse, without
any disagreement, to the obiect
that it is like vnto; so farre, the
glasse is the very obiect it selfe. Hitherto,
I haue borrowed the assistance
of the ordinary explication
how Images are formed in looking
glasses: which how erroneous soeuer
it may be in them; yet being translated
to our mindes, it will find
there the truth which was from thence
wrongly translated to bodies. For,
euen they as well as we, do vse to
say (as Aristotle teacheth vs) that
th
••
soule
••
s its obiects; that is, she is
all thinges, by knowledge. For,
knowlege is not made in the soule
by addition of seuerall new entities,
that ioyned to her do become the
partes of a new compound: But must
necessarily be a true impression made
in her; that is, herselfe new
stamped; And is as truly the very
same thing with the soule it selfe,
as the figure left by a seale, is the
very waxe it selfe, (newly modifyed)
in which it is impressed. And therefore
it cannot be denyed but that
the soule is truly the obiect she vnderstandeth,
as farre forth as the
obiect is by her truly understood.
And accordingly, we see that a
person who hath a right vnderstanding
of any thing, doth make vse
of that thing in such sort as is fitting
and agreable to the nature of it;
applying to it what is requisite to
be applyed, and remoouing from it
what is fitt to be remoued: so taking
the knowledge which he hath
of the nature of that thing (that is,
the thing it selfe, as farre forth as
he hath right knowledge of it) for a
principle by which to operate; that
is, for his instrument, or for a part
of his power of working. Now, because
this instrument, this principle
this knowledge, by which
••
he soule
worketh when shee hath occasion to
vse it, is truely and really the knowing
thing it selfe (that is, the soule)
it is cleare, that by such knowledge
the knowing thing is truely the thing
knowne; and the thing knowne, is
truely a part of the knowing thing.
If barely thus much, would suffice,
without any further addition, to
denominate or affixe the attribute
of kn
••
wing vnto a thing wherein we
find this performed; we might with
reason esteeme a looking glasse, or
any material sense of an animal
(which in like manner receiueth
materiall impression from an outward
obiect) to know, or to be a
knowing thing. But when we procede
a degree further, and examine
what more then this is in a soule
when shee knoweth any thing, we
shall find that whereas the first is nothing
else but that a likenesse of an
outward obiect is in the glasse or sence
which receiueth it; A man, when
he hath knowledge of an obiect, doth
know, besides the likenesse of the
obiect within him, that the thing he
knoweth is without him. For example;
one who heareth a bell ring;
knoweth, that the bell is not onely
within himselfe by the cognition he
hath of it; but also, that it is out of
him too; to witt, in the steeple by its
proper Essence & existence. This further
addition then, to the bells being
within him, that the bell hath a
proper Essence and Existence in nature
(that is; that the bell is, or is a
thing) is that which belongeth to
knowledge; and denominateth the
man in whom it passeth, with the attribute
of kn
••
wing, or of being a
knower. And this is not in the looking
glasse. For although it is true,
that the outward obiect is in the
looking glasse, as farre forth as it
is not vnlike to its picture there, or
as it is the same with it, and that
the obiect without, smiteth and
impresseth this likenesse in the glasse:
Yet all this, amounteth not, to
make the looking glasse equall to a
man in point of kowledge; for this
regard, that the obiect's being out
of the looking glasse, is not in the
glasse; whereas, the bell's being in
the steeple, is in him that hath the
bell in him by hearing it ring. And
the like to this, is in the senses of
beastes: who hauing within them no
vnderstanding, vnto which the obiect
may penetrate, their senses do
serue them but like burning glasses,
that multiplying by their vertue
the force of light, refracting
through them, do sett on fire some
thing behind them: for the senses
of the beast strengthening and encreasing
the action of the obiect
that striketh vpon them, do sett on
working those more inward gimmals
which nature hath prepared within
them for the conseruation and
good of that liuing creature. Now
the vse we are to make of this discourse,
is, to examine whither this
oddes which a knowing soule hath
ouer a representing looking glasse,
can be reduced to the disposition
and ordering of grosse and subtile
partes; which is all the way & course
by which materiall effects are wrought.
And in steed of that, euen nature
her selfe presently suggesteth vnto
vs, that for nothing is more impossible
then for the same bodie to be att the
same time in two different places.
But in our case there is yet a greater
impossibility then that, to be performed by
meere bodies: for it is not
onely implyed that the body of the
bell which is in the steeple, be in the
braine of him that heareth it ring;
but also that its very being in the
steeple, be att the same time in
the hearer. Which is a farre more
vncouth matter then the former
(though that be impossible too) t
••
be wrought by bodies. For, if its
being in the steeple do include tha
••
it is not corporeally in the soule;
then, its being in the soule dot
••
bring along with it that it is no
••
corporeally in her; and consequently,
that in her it hath not a corporeall
existence. Now if any Archimedes
or Archytas or subtile Ingenieur,
can designe such an order
〈◊〉
materiall Phantasmes in the braine
••
or such a dance of animall spirits, a
••
meerely by them to make this b
••
thus in the knower; I will acknowledge,
that the part of him where
••
by he knoweth, (that is, his soule)
is materiall and a body. But because
••
that is all together impossible, i
••
can not be doubted but that shee is a
••
immateriall & a spirituall substance
••
If any man shall obiect against
me, that this knowing of an obiect
to be without the knower, att the
same time that by his senses it i
••
brought into him; is no particular
prerogatiue of a man: but is common
to all beastes with him; vho we
see moue themselues to or from
the obiects that they see or heare, in
the same manner as a man doth;
And yet for all that, their soules
are not immateriall: I shall not make
difficulty to answere, that if this
could be proued to me, I would
conclude their soules to be immateriall,
and consequently immortall,
as well as mens. But the truth is;
they mistake much in making such
iudgement of beastes actions: they
pronounce too soddainly, without
examining as they ought from
what principles such actions procede:
they are carried away by the
outward likenesse of gestures and
behauiours betweene beastes and
men, not considering how the one
are determined vnresistably to what
they do, by the outward obiects
working vpon them; and that the
others do determine themselues by
their owne election: All which I
haue att large explicated in my often
mentioned booke, where I treate of
the operations of beastes. Lett
them call to minde how many and
how strange thinges we heare of,
made with such a ressemblance of
life that the beholder an scarce
doubt of their being liuing creatures
vnlesse he were warned of it
before hand; and yet, they are nothing
but dead pieces of wood, iron,
leather, feathers, and the like artificially
composed; and the springes
within them, wound vp, and then
lett loose. As Archytas his doue, and
Regiomontanus his like curiosities
were; some of which euen imitated
exactly humane voyce and wordes.
As also is deliuered to vs by antiquity,
of Memnon's statue, that
gaue Oracles when the morning
sunne first shined vpon his eyes; his
priestes hauing in the night time
ordered the engines within, in
such sort that such soundes and
wordes should breake out of his
mouth att the appearing of the
sunne. The like of which Monsieur
des Carres was confident he could
haue produced: and I belieue that
Cornelius Dreble would haue performed
the like if he had bin sert
about it, aswell as he composed his
organes that when the sunne shined
vpon them played such songes as he
had contriued within them. And the
inuentions of statues mouing themselues
in diuers postures and progressions
are now a dayes so ordinary,
that they may begett a credence
of seuerall stories of the antients
which haue hithetto passed for fabulous
tales; as when they tell vs
that Vulcan and Daedalus made
Statues to behaue them selues like
liuing persons; And that Hiarchas
called men out the walles to wayte
vpon Apollonius Tyaneus, and the
like. And when he hath reflected
vpon these thinges, lett him consider,
how infinitely the Architect of
nature and of all creatures, surpasseth
the subtilest ingenieurs; And he
will see that such manner of arguing,
carrieth no force along with
it.
THE VI. CHAPTER.
That the soule hath a Being and
proprieties of her owne: And
consequently, is Immortall.
And of the nature and extent
of the knowledge of a separa
ted
soule.
THus, hauing gathered from
these three proprieties of knowledge
(which whe haue shewed, are
impossible to be performed by meere
corporeall motions, or by the
sole disposition of grosse and subtile
partes) that the source of knowledge
in man is of an immateriall
and spirituall nature: It followeth
that she hath an Existence or Being
of her owne, and proprieties agreable
to such a nature: and consequently,
that she is a spirituall
substance. For it can not besayed,
that she is an accident; seing that
all accidents imply a substance, of
••
nature proportionable to them,
for them to depend on. And therefore,
if she were an accident, since
we haue proued her to be of such
a nature as can not depend of bodies,
••
here must, be in man some other
spirituall substance whose accident
••
he were. Which no man will obiect,
seeing there is no pretence att
all for any other spirit
••
all substance
to be in man besides his soule;
And that the reason why any person
denyeth her to be so, is because
they would not acknowledge
any thing in Man to be immateriall
and other then meere body. Seeing
••
hen that the
••
oule is a spirituall
substance, and hath an Existence
belonging to her selfe, of her owne
nature and straine; that is, a spirituall
one: It is euident that her
continuance dependeth not of the
body, that in this life is her copar
••
ener;
but that her Existence still
remaineth with her, after the bodies
death: which in familiar language,
signifyeth that she is and
suruiu
••
th after the body is fallen
from her; and that its death, is
her birth; and the breaking downe
of those clay walles, is the
freeing of her from prison, and
the setting her att liberty: since by
that meanes, she enjoyeth fully
and solely her owne Existence, without
being clogged and pestered
with a grosse yoke fellow that will
haue a share of it whiles they are
together. Neither can it be surmised
that any outward agent can,
by working vpon her after this her
birth out of the body, make her
cease to be: since by being a spirituall
(that is an indiuisible) substance,
she is not lyable to any of
those operations or locall motions,
or diuisions that change and destroy
bodies; or is in danger of meeting
with any other substance that is of
a contrary nature to hers. Besides
which, there is no meanes in nature
that wee know of, to bring any
substance to its end. Which I conceiue
is sufficient for this discourse;
wherein your lordship will expect
no more, then that I proue the
soule to suruiue the bodies death,
and to be in condition like that
of Intelligences or Angels: And
therefore I will not troble you here
with such Metaphysicall proofes, as
to make them cleare would require
large explication and the laying of
Principles a great way off: As for
example, that (since Nature repugneth
against annihilation) there
can be no change in a thing that affordeth
not matter to be susceptible
of a new forme. Or, that where Existence
is once ioyned immediately to
a subsistent forme without matter,
there is nothing can seuer them.
But peraduenture some may conceiue
I haue not giuen full
••
atisfaction
in this poinct, vnlesse I
answere the famous argument wherewith
Pomponatius hath perplexed
euen the learnedest men that were
of his time, and haue bin euer since.
For their sakes therefore, I will
samne vp in short what he vrgeth
against the soules continuance after
the bodies death; and in as succinct
a manner, giue my solution to his
difficulty. To this effect then he
seemeth to say. Euery thing that
nature maketh, is designed by her
for some proper and peculiar action
or operation. For it would argue
her (that is to say, God, the author
of of Nature) of imprudence,
if she should bring forth into the
world, an idle and vselesse thing,
that where to do nothing, and consequently
were to serue for nothing.
Now, the proper operation
of Mans soule, is to vnderstand:
phich action of vnderstanding, is
werformed by the soules considering
the fantasmes that reside in the
braine; and without such fantasmes,
she can not acquire knowledge
of any thing. But, after the bodies
death, there remaine no fantasmes
for her to speculate; they
being materiall impressions from
corporeall obiects; and consequently,
following the lotte of the materiall
part of man that compriseth
and harboureth them. Therefore
it followeth, that if she should
••
e
seuered from the body and suruiue
it, she would haue no operation;
but haue a ranke among substances
for no purpose and to no end. For
auoyding of which inconuenience,
there is no other remedy, but to
allow her Beeing a cessation aswell
as the Bodyes, when Nature hath
putt
••
o periode to all that
••
he is
able to do or is fitt for, by taking
from her the meanes by which onely
she was able to worke. This is
the summe of his obiection. For
the clearing of which, we may consider,
that an agent may be conceiued
to haue two sortes of operations;
the one transient into the subiect it
worketh vpon; the other immanent
in it selfe. The first driueth to the
performing of some effect; which
being compassed, the action ceaseth.
As when an Artificer maketh
some thing, or a Traueller
goeth to any place; as soone as the
one hath finished his engine, or
the other is arriued to his iorneys
end, their working and their motion
do cease. But an action immanent
in the agent, continueth
working though the cause be taken
a way which did sett it on
foote. As when a burning coale
shineth or gloweth, though the fire
be out, and the blowing ceased
that kindled it: and as a bell hummeth,
after the clapper or hammer
hath done striking it. Many
such conditions of actions we may
obserue in Nature, which the latines
do expresse by Neuter verbes, as A
••
der
••
,
splendere, furere, aegrot
••
re, insanire,
and the like: all which do
import a kind of exercise or actuall
Existence within the subiect of what
they signify, without relating to
any extrinsecall cause. The which,
though they come verry short of
the acts of our soule; yet of all
corporeall expressions they come
nearest to them: There being in
our soule, a kind of vitall reflection
in its proper acts; which being nothing
but the very Existence of the
soule it selfe, doth comprehend and
aequalise as much as in nature is
performed by an agent and a patient
and their working. In this manner
it is, that the soule after her separation
from the body, continueth
to vnderstand obiects, though the
fantasmes that att the first serued
her to acquire her knowledge, be
taken from her. And euen whiles
she was in the body, the speculating
of fantasmes was not all the
businesse that belonged to her: for
though it is true, the doing of that,
was necessary for her to be able to
store her selfe with any thing: Yet
she transferred the notions of thinges
from those fantasmes into her
owne spirituall store house; and did,
euen her owne very selfe, become
••
he thinges which she vnderstood;
as we haue already explicated. So
that she was built vp of the knowledges
that she thus acquired by
spiritualising of obiects and by conuerting
them into her owne very
substance. And that speculation
of fantasmes which is attributed
to her in the body, is
rather a passion then an action: for
the doing of that worke, is the soules
receiuing impression from those
fantasmes. The retaining of which,
is her knowing. And this knowing,
must necessarily remaine alwayes
with her; since it is nothing else but
she her selfe so moulded and so impressed.
That is, her owne Bein
••
:
which because it is a spirituall one
and superior to corporeall ones,
doth resume in it selfe the two natures
of Essence, and of Operation
that in bodies are separated: And so
is, both her Being an her worke. And
consequently she knoweth and vnderstandeth
(which is her proper
operation) when she is seuered from
the body and hath no more fantasmes
to worke by. But it is a kind
of standing or fixed state of knowing
(if so I may say) and immanent in
her selfe; (as the shining or glowing
of a fire coale, seemeth to vs
to be) not att all accompanyed
kith motion, as is her gaining of
wnowledge in this life. Which will be
better vnderstood, if we consider
how her first obiect, is Being; and
that her first operation, or vnderstanding,
is to be Being, (as, whose
essence is nothing else but a capacity
of knowlege, or of a new manner
of being Being) and that all the
rest of her vnderstandinges, are nothing
else but to know other things
to be; or, for her to be the Being of
other thinges: that is, to identify
them with her selfe by this imbibition
of Being, that sinketh the obiects
into her. And therefore, when a
soule is once completly become all
thinges (that is, that she knoweth all
thinges) which she becometh it the
very instant of her separation, and
indeede, by her separation from the
body; It is euident, she needeth no
further action to gaine any thing
or to better her selfe. For she hath
then all that she is capable of hauing
••
and is att the periode she was made
for. And consequently, Pomponatius
his argument is of no force, since
after the bodies death the soule
may continue that operation (of
knowing) which she is made for:
And no
••
onely continue it, but
haue it infinitly exalted and refined
ouer what it was in the body.
By my answere to this obiection,
I am led to obserue how a separated
soule must necessarily retaine knowledge
of whatsoeuer she knew in
the body. For, since her knowledge
of any thing is her very Being
the thing she knoweth; It followeth,
that as long as she conserueth her
owne Being, the knowledge of that
thing must remaine with her. But
doth her knowledge reste here? Hath
she acquired by this second birth,
no addition to the stocke she had
bin toylesomely traffiking for in
this life? A child in his mothers
wombe, hath no other cognition
then such a dull and limited one as
his sense
of touching or feeling could afford
him; but as soone as he is borne
into this worldes light, he receiueth
impressions by his eyes of the
colors, figures, magnitudes, and
other qualities, of all kindes of bodies
that enuiron him: And shall a
soule, borne into that bright day
of intellectuall light, see then no
more then she saw here in her darke
prison? She shall certainely. And
not onely see more, but see so much
more, that it euen dazeleth
our eyes to looke vpon the excesse
of her seing. Lett vs proceede by
steppes; and consider how the ordering
of a few notions, begetteth
new knowledges and conclusions,
that he who was imbued with those
notions neuer dreamed of, till he
had marshalled and ranked them in
such order. And by new ordering
and weauing those new conclusions
among themselues and with his
former notions, he further acquireth
new knowledges. Which the
more numerous they grow, the higher
and larger is their multiplication;
like numbers, which by euery
addition of a new figure, do encrease
their valewes tenne folde.
Thus, sciences do grow, from a few
plaine obuious principles to the
vastenesse we admire, So, the science
of Mathematikes, by enterweauing
a few axiomes and definitions,
sprooteth out, into an vnbelieuable
progeny of subtility and variety.
Likewise, the science of Metaphysikes,
by ordering such notions as
occurre to euery man of common
sense runneth ouer the whole machine
and extent of all that is: And
not content with the whole world of
bodies, and of what is measured
by time, soareth with a bold wing
and piercing eye into a new world
of Intellectuall inhabitants; where
finding them settled by their nature
in a state of aeternity, she perceiueth
time that deuoureth all
thinges beneath their orbe, flide
weakely vnder them into an abysse
of nothing; without being able to
giue the least attainte to their sublimed
nature. All this is done, meerely
by orderly disposing those notions
that by our senses we acquire. And
if these, in a man (whose grosse
allay of a body, so cloggeth and benummeth
the vigour of his subtile
inhabitant) do grow vp to so incredidible
a bulke and height; what will
their extent be in a separated soule,
that is all actiuity? Her nature, is, to
be an orderer, or rather, to be an
order it selfe: for whatsoeuer procedeth
from her, is orderly: which it
would not be, if order were not first
in her. Order then being in her, it
must be her nature; since all is nature
and substance, in that thing
which is indiuisible. It is cleare then
that whatsoeuer is ordered by an
agent whose nature is order, it must
needes be ordered to the vtmost
aduantage that by ordering it is capable
of. And consequently, seeing
that new knowledge springeth out
of the well ordering of precedent
notions; It followeth, that whatsoeuer
is knowable out of those
notions and principles, is fully
knowne by a separated soule. But
when we consider the connexion
that all thinges haue, one with an
other, (seeing that all the thinges
in the world, are but like linkes of
a chaine, forged by an all knowing
Architect; who doth all his workes,
by the rules of perfect order and,
wisedome) we can not doubt, but
that a separated soule, by ordering
those knowledges she hath acquired
in the body, and by reflecting
vpon them with her vnlimited
actiuity and energy (she being then
entirely a pure Act) must needes
attaine to the knowledge of all
that is. And if we examine wherein
this connexion consisteth
••
as it is in
our soule; we shall find that it is
placed in this, that the thing which
hath one notion, is the same which
hath an other. Whereby we find
that the first notion we haue of any
thing, doth by the nature of our
vnderstanding comprehend all
other notions; and that it can not
be perfectly vnderstood, vnlesse all
others be knowne. Wherefore, we
may conclude, that a separated
soule, doth either comprehend no
one thing, or else that shee must
needes comprehend all thinges.
As for example; If she know her
selfe, she knoweth that she was the
forme of a body; & not onely of a body
in generall, but of one, so composed,
so rempered, so formed, and all
other particulars belonging to the
body that she is separated frō. From
hence she gathereth, that this compound
of soule and body, must necessarily
haue a father and a mother;
and by the indiuiduall proprieties
of her body, she inferreth the indiduall
proprieties of her father and
of her mother. Whose being such,
requireth further such and such
other causes and circumstances
whereon they depend. And euery
one of them, require such and such
others that haue caused them. And
so proceeding on from one to an
other, she discouereth not onely
the first, but also all the causes that
haue relation to one another: Which
in effect, is the complexe of the
whole world; since all thinges in it,
haue (one way or an other) relation
to one an other, either neerer
or further off: As Maister White
hath ingeniously and solidely shewed
in the first of his dialogues of
the world. And this is the methode
of acquiring all sciences, by the
vertue of syllogismes. And this
vast extent of knowledge, will be
the firmer and the stronger in her,
out of this regard, that euery one
of her knowledges will adde a confirmation
and a verifying to euery
particular that she knoweth. For all
thinges in nature, hauing a perfect
connexion with one an other; whosoeuer
knoweth truly the nature of
any thing, knoweth also the nature
of all that hath reference to it,
either as cause or as effect, or by
any other regard that linketh them
together. And thus, euery one of
her multitude or rather infinity of
knowledges, riueteth faster each
other of them: euery one of them
affording her a new reason, why that
is so; like stones in an arch, where
euery stone is not onely a support to
it selfe, but also to all and to euery
one of the other stones that compose
the arch. So that euery knowledge
of hers, hath a superproportion
in a manner infinite, beyond
any thing she knew in the body.
And according to the strength of her
knowledge, is the strength of her
other actions, as, of desiring or louing
any thing that her knowledge
informeth her to be good: since they
proceede immediatly from knowledge;
and are more or lesse vehement,
according as her knowledge
decyphereth them more or lesse
abounding with the nature of good.
Nor can she be deceiued by any appearance
of truth, that may plant
an Error in her, insteed of a true
Iudgement: which is euident, not
onely out of what we haue euen now
said, that euery one of her knowledges
maketh good euery particular
one in her; but also more immediatly
out of this, that it is impossible
for Contradictory Iudgements
to dwell together in the soule; since
one of them, is engrafted in her, or
rather is identifyed with her, by the
nature of Beeing; and the other,
must consequently be excluded
from her, by not being; (as euen in
in this life, we can not iudge any
thing, att the same time, to be and
not to be:) And therefore, since all
that she knew in this world, remaineth
with her in the next; and that
out of the perfect ordering of that,
she deduceth the knowledge of all
thinges else, and so enioyeth the
fulnesse of science in her; and that
all shee knoweth, is alwayes present
to her, as being in truth her owne
indiuisible nature, substance, and
Being; it followeth, that no falshood
(which is a contradiction of
some truth incorporated, as I may
say, into her substance) can haue
admittance to her beliefe: And if
any were mistakingly harboured by
her during her abode in the body
(which hindered her from completely
ordering her notions, and from
deducing true consequences from
them) this her new condition of
abundant light, soone discouereth
and cancelleth it.
THE VII. CHAPTER.
The answere to an obiection.
BVT if error, mistaking, or falsehood,
can not harbour in a separated
soule; And that the fullnesse
of knowledge, be the periode
and perfection of her nature;
It may att the first sight appeare
impossible, that any soule should
faile of being happy. For, seeing
that a Rationall creatures desiring
of any thing, dependeth of the Iudgement
that he maketh of such a
thinges being good for him: It
••
ould seeme, that there is great
Error in his knowledge, and much
mistaking in his Iudgement, when
he setteth his hart vpon desiring
and longing after that which is
most hurtfull and pernitious to him.
To answere this obiection, I must
entreate your lordship to looke
into the nature of the will: Which
though in substance
••
it be the same
with the vnderstanding (that is, the
soule her selfe, according as she is
ready to proceede to action) yet as it
is the origine of the soules desires,
and the impellent of her to action,
It requireth a particular consideration.
We may then determine the
will in a Rationall creature, to be a
mastering and conquering Iudgement
or resolution, that fixeth peremptorily
vpon what is to be done.
For it is cleare, that it is nothing else
but a Mans immediate disposition to
worke, or to do some thing: And he
is allwayes ready to proceede to
action, and doth proceede thereto
(vnlesse he be hindred) as soone
as his vnderstanding iudgeth and
telleth him what is best to be done.
Next, be pleased to consider
how we find oftentimes by experience,
that after we haue iudged and
determined by our reason and vnderstanding,
what is best and fittest
for vs to do; there reseth in our
brestes, a certaine materiall motion
or tyde of spirits, that beateth vs
off from that resolution, and disposeth
vs an other way. If it happen
that this inundation of spirits
do chance to ebbe backe againe, and
leaue the channell free for the calmer
waters of reason to haue their
course in; we returne to our former
temper and Iudgement. But if
a new flood of them do breake in
vpon it, too strong for it to resist;
then they carry the mans resolution
to their side. And according to the
violence and repetition of their strokes
that beate him off from his first
Iudgement, the resolution that is
made by them is strong and vigourous.
For as ourvery Being, and all our
knowledges, in this world; are made
by materiall actions: So, more,
and stronger knowledges and Iudgements,
are made by more and by
stronger materiall actions. And
therefore, if these currents and tydes
of materiall spirits, haue the
force to make in a man strong impressions
and iudgements of the
good they propose, and by a continued
long beating vpon his vnderstanding
do in manner confine it to
what they propose; they will in the
end, as it were blinde our reason,
and make vs thinke onely, or at
••
least
chiefly, of the good and aduantage
that they suggest. They
will sinke into the bottome of our
soule, and settle there, the apprehensions
of what they recommend.
And in comparison of those
Apprehensions, they will weake
••
the truth we see, making it a appeare
to vs like a dreame, or a thing
in the ayre, that concerneth vs not
••
Which in this case, I may compare
(not improperly) to oyle swimming
vpon some heauier liquo
••
in a caske. For, that remaineth
att the toppe, without motion or
actiuity; whiles the water beneath,
runneth precipitously out att the
spigot into the vessels that are sett
to receiue it. In like manner, here,
truth remaineth without all efficacy;
whiles the contrary iudgements,
do flow impetuously into
action.
Now, when a man thus tempered
cometh to dye, and that so his
compound cometh to be resolued
into body and soule; It is euident,
that in his soule, there must remaine
a great inequality, betweene
that Iudgement of hers which
concerneth the materiall good, and
••
er other which concerneth the true
good: And, that although the
••
ur
••
ent
of materiall spirits which was
••
ont to foment this Iudgement,
be now gone, yet the effect of their
stroakes (that very same effect which
remained in her, when soeuer she
had truce from their actuall assaultes)
remaineth after death in the
separated soule; and if it be the
stronger, will of it selfe still presse
her on to the same materiall good,
that the spirits which begott it, recommended
to her. For by the stroke
of death, the soule looseth nothing
of what she had purchased
in the body: But all that she had
or rather that she was there, is enlarged
and heighthened by this second
birth of hers; And she becometh
such a thing, as the precedent
moulding of her settled her
in a capacity to proue; like as the
seuerall parcels of warme mudde
vpon the bankes of Nilus, do become
such various liuing creatures,
by the last action of the enliuening
sunne working vpon them, as by
their precede
••
t dispositions and circumstances
they were designed to
be. Adde to this, that there is no
formall opposition betweene two
such Iudgements in a man. Lett
the one of them be (for example)
that it is good for him to go to a
feast, to satisfy and please his appetite;
The other, that it is better
for him to go to the Church to pray:
And it is euident that the truth of
this latter, doth not contradict
the truth of the other; but both
of them are consistent together.
If then he dyeth with his soule
fraught with these two Iudgements;
death will leaue them both in his
soule; each of them stretched out,
••
n such sort as belongeth to a separated
soule; but still, in such
proportion as it found them in her,
••
hen it came to deliuer her out of her
body. So that, if it found them
••
n such a proportion that the Iudgement
of good in going to a feast,
did clearely ouerbeare the Iudgement
of good in going to the Church;
the desire of feasting in the next:
world, will likewise ouerbeare in
••
er the desire of that good, for the
obtaining whereof she was to go to
••
he Church to pray. And although
••
ll the circumstances and possibility
of going to a feast, be taken
••
way, with the taking away of the
body; yet, the desire of feasting
(which dependeth not of considerations
to be made in the next
world, but onely of those which
were made in the body) remaineth
as fresh and as quicke as it was when
the Man settled his last Iudgement
and resolution in this world. Nor
doth it import, that a separated
soule hath no tast to be pleased
with meate or with drinke. For, as all
her desires were framed in the body;
so, are they such, as belong to a
whole complete man, and not to
a naked soule. And therefore, she
desireth to be built vp againe an
entire man, and to wallow againe
in such sensuall pleasures as then
prouayled with her. To which I
may adde, that although a separated
soule haue not a tast to relish
meate, yet she hath a will to wish
for it. And this will, is now to her,
of a like nature, as to vs in this
world, the wish of Bea
••
i
••
de; which
dependeth of no other consideration,
nor is referred to any furthe
••
End; But is of it selfe the last End;
as being desired for its owne sake;
and not vnder the reglement, or to
serue for obtaining of any thing
else, more desired then it. Nor
doth it prei
••
dice what I haue here
determined; to consider, that a separated
soule, is a pure spirit, deliuered
from that impugner of Reason,
her flesh, which vsed to draw her
from her greater good. For we
must not vnderstand
••
her being a
pure spirit, to signify her being a
••
vntainted spirit: for she is wholy defiled
by her habitation in the body.
But she is called pure, by negation
of conjunction to any body: which
hindereth not, but that she may
haue in her substance, the spirituall
effects and contaminations of a corrupted
body. For whiles she and
her body were but one thing (both
of them subsisting by one Existence)
the agents that wrought vpon
her body, did build and qualify her
according to what she was to be
when she was to be seuered from her
body, and to Exist by her selfe. Now
if these agents were peruerse ones,
they hammered out such effects in
her as made her become a spirituall
monster of many heads, (which are,
the reluctant and incompossible
Principles that raigne in her) each
of them drawing and tearing her
a different way from the rest; as in
the next Chapter I shall more amply
declare. And altough she erreth
not in prosecuting her iudgements
and desires, supposing the
principles from whence they spring;
which are now naturall to her: yet
all her operations, flowing out of
those: principles, are strangely defectiue,
vgly, and monstruous. And
the reason why her Iudgements and
affections in this state of separation,
are naturall to her and vnalterable;
whereas before they were but accidentall;
is this: Whilest she was
in the body, there was no thought
or Iudgement so deepely settled in
her, but (by reason of her bodies
subiection to externe agents) might
be weakened by the much importunity
of other thoughts occurring
to her and pressing vpon her; and
by litle and litle, might be worne
away and forgotten: And therefore
her nature, that was thus flexible
and changeable in her Iudgements
and desires, resided purely
in the common inclination to Good
in abstract or in generall; the which
was common to all kindes of desires;
and so, onely the desire of
Good in generall, was naturall to
her: All particular desires, being
but accidentall to her; and such,
as might be remoued by extrinsecall
causes and agents. But when
all this subiection of her to such
agents by meanes of her body, shall
be remooued by death; and that no
causes shall afterwardes be able to
worke vpon her; and that she herselfe
shall be nothing else but a
Being or a substance left out of these
impressions, the stamping of
which is now att an end; Those desires
which formerly were but accidentall,
are now become naturall to
her. And whatsoeuer she loueth
for it selfe, remaineth settled and
riuetted in her, as a supreme principle;
ouer which none other hath
any authority or preualence; and
against which, nothing can be vrged
to infeeble it. And in the meane
time, all other iudgements and
desires that are lesse preualent then
these, do keepe their inferior rankes
and beings, (without loosing
ought of the clearenesse of euidence
that accompanyeth them)
vntill an other change do come by
the reioyning of her bodie to her.
By all which discourse it appeareth,
how a separated soule that is badly
and vnequally built vp; is free from
error and falshood in her Iudgements;
though her misseplaced affections
and the improportioned
composure of her will, do make her
neglect her true good, for inferior
and vnworthy goods.
THE VIII. CHAPTER.
Of the Misery of a disordered
soule after it is separated
from the body.
HAuing cleared (as I conceiue)
this great difficulty; I shall
apply my selfe to explicate in the
best manner I am able, the different
states, that the different courses
and manners of liuing in this world,
do settle a separated soule in.
These may be comprised vnder two
generall heads. For; there being in
man two principles from which all
his operations do spring; Reason
and sense; his soule and his body; It
is evident that according as either
of these swayeth and hath strongest
influence into his actions, his course
of life is to receiue its denomination.
I will begin with taking a short
suruay of a soule torne from the
body of a man that spent his life
in the pursuite and in the enioying
of sensuall obiects. It is already
concluded, that all the Iudgements
and desires which a man contracteth
in this life, do remaine in the sepated
soule, in the same proportion and
excesse ouer one an other, as they
were here. It hath bin also shewed
that notwithstanding such a soules
desiring a particular and inferior
good, more strongly then she doth an
vniuersall and superior one: yet is
she not carried by error or mistaking,
to preferre the inferior good
before the superiour; but seeth
clearely the difference that in truth
is betweene them; and that the superior
good, is of its owne nature,
preferable to the other; though, by
reason of the temper she is in, she
preferreth for her enioyment the
other meaner good. Next, lett vs
consider the great vehemence wherewith
the desires of a separated
foule are accompanyed. Examples
dayly occurre to vs, of the great
earnestnesse wherewith passionate
men desire and prosecute the obiects
that their hartes are sett vpon:
In such sort, that neither difficulties,
nor dangers, can diuert them
from them. And yet, the greatest
and violentest of these, is not comparable
to the least and weakest desire
of a separated soule. In her,
there is nothing that can retard any
operation that she is about: as in
bodies there is; vnto whom, motion
belongeth not but as they are
moued by an other thing; and therefore,
all that appertaineth to them
in regard of motion, is in a manner
resistance to it, or a repugnant
yielding to what is too stong for
them: and consequently, succession
of time, and conueniency of
place, and a mastering power in the
agent that worketh vpon them, are
required to all corporeall motions
and operations. But a separated
soule, being (as we haue formerly
shewed) an indiuisible substance, and
not measured by time, nor comprehended
by place; and withall,
her selfe being the principle of her
owne operations (which are nothing
else, but her very being what she
is) It followeth that whatsoeuer she
doth or desireth, is, with the whole
energy of her Nature; who
••
e force
and actiuity beareth such proportion
to the strength of the greatest and
most powerfull body that is, as all
time doth to an instant, or as the
whole extent of quantity doth to a
point; seeing, that her actiuity
(were she to worke) reacheth to
all place, and to the whole masse of
corporeall magnitude, in an indiuisible
of time. Now, lett vs
apply these three considerations, to
such a soule as we haue proposed
for our first suruay. Her wearing
out her time in the body, with
continuall conuersation among sensuall
obiects; and through the loue
of them, her neglect of rationall
and intellectuall goods; will haue
caused, that after death, her affections
to them, will preuaile ouer
these latter. Such affections, can
not be conceiued to be, but of one, or
but of two, or but of a few, of those
materiall obiects; but of many, and
of different natures. For the puddles
of flesh and blood, hauing this property,
that full draughtes of them
do begett a satiety and loathing in
in the persons that feede greedily
vpon them; their ouerburthened
stomakes do seeke to please themselues
by variety; and do hope to
find fresher and quicker delight in
some new obiect. Thus, they trauell
and wander as farre as they can, in
this labirinth of vanity: One pleasure
still succeeding an other:
Their thoughtes sometimes bent
vpon richesse, otherwhiles vpon power;
as often vpon honor and estimation
from others; sometimes
vpon reuenge; and peraduenture
continually, vpon the meaner obiects
that in their seuerall kindes do
affect their grosser senses. All this
variety of affections, that requireth
succession of time to be contracted
and enioyed in the body, will
reside together all att once in the
separated soule; or rather, she her
selfe will be all of them. Many of
them, will be incompatible with one
an other: yet she mustendure them all;
& endure euery one of their drawing
her a different way: like those vnhappy
monsters that some historians
tell vs of, which being composed
of two, or of more, different animals,
vnited together by some part
of their bodies common to them all,
they are att continuall debate
among themselues, one of them
desiring to carry their whole loade
one way, or to busy themselues
about one thing, the other contesting
against that. But the incompossible
affections of such a soule,
are yet more lamentable then can
be represented by the sad conflict
of such monsters: for, these latter,
are not in the same indiuisible place:
they are but neere one an other;
and they are not alwayes in opposition,
and att warres, betweene
themselues: whereas, the soules
vnhappy desires, do constitute and
build vp her very substance; which
being indiuisible, they lye alwayes
together in the same indiuisible
restlesse bed: like snarling dogges,
like angry vipers, and poysonous
serpents, perpetually biting and
tearing one an other. Nor can any
of them be layed a sleepe, for one
single moment of time: They are
continually awake, continually raging,
and continually deuouring
one an other: and consequently,
continually deuouring thebowels of
that wretched soule that harboureth
them. Who in the middest of this
torment and misery, seeth clearely
that it can neuer haue end, as longas
she hath being; she being now, no longer
subiect to mutation: & that therefore
she must remaine thus, for
all aeternity. But this tearing her in
pieces by incompossible desires, is
but part of the torment she sustayneth:
She is so vnhappy, as to be incapable
of enioying any one of
those obiects she so extremely thirsteth
after. None of them can follow
her into that region, where
she now dwelleth; nor hath the meanes
or instruments to conuerse with
them, were it possible (as it is not)
that they could approch her and
offer themselues to her. Consider
now how great an anguish endureth
that man, who hauing passionatly
sett his hart vpon some beloued obiect,
is hindered from enioying it.
The proportion of his sorrow, will
be according to the proportion of
his desire, and to the actiuity of his
nature. We see, how much the
griefe of a quicke and smart person,
exceedeth the griefe of a dull and
heauy one: and particularly when it
is for the priuation of the obiect
that he prised most. We haue dayly
examples, of men, that dye for
such losses. How strangely excessiue
then must the sorrow be of a separated
soule, that wanteth what she so
vehemently desireth, and that she
is sure she shall neuer attaine to
enioy? How great this sorrow and
anguish is, we can not comprehend,
because we can not comprehend the
actiuity of a separated soule. But we
shall discouer enough to strike vs
with amazemēt & horror att the sight
of it, if we reflect, how sorrow & paine
worketh vpon a man in this life. It is
euident, that euen in corporeall paines,
it is not the body that feeleth that
which tormenteth him. For if the
mind be strongly fixed vpon some
other thought, so as not to attend
unto what passeth in the body, or
that by outward agents is wrought
vpon it, (as happeneth in Extasies,
and in like vehement applications
of the minde an other way) the man
feeleth neither goute, nor stone, nor
the incision of any of hislimbes, nor
the violent action of fire feering or
burning any of his sensiblest partes.
It is the soule then that feeleth all
such paine; and the body, with its
senses, serueth but as the channell
or conduite to carry it to her. Much
more is it out of all question, that
the sorrowes of the minde, reside onely
there. It followeth then, that
since onely the soule is susceptible
of torment; a separated soule, must
necessarily be lyable thereunto, in
an infinite excesse beyond what an
embodied one is capable of. Now
consider, how all the euill that can
arriue to her, is, her being crossed in
her affections, and her being depriued
of what she desireth and tendeth
vnto with greater actituity and
pressure, then that wherewith the
weight of the whole world would fall
backe to its place and center, if after
being remooued from it by a
maistering force, it were soddainly
lett att liberty to returne whither its
grauity would carry it. And from
hence we may conclude what a state
of violence, and of suffering contradiction
to her nature, must such
a soule necessarily be in? It is euident,
that all the torments inuented
and inflicted by such Tyrants as
haue bin most ingenious in cruelty;
or caused by the violentest and sharpest
diseases; are but shaddowes to
what such a soule endureth. To heighten
yet more the anguish she
sustaineth; she looketh with an enuious
eye vpon the excessiue happinesse
that other soules enioy, who
spent their time in storing themselues
with such true goods as now
do settle them in such a delightfull
state: shee seeth how easy it had bin
for her to haue made her selfe one
of that happy number: and how
foolishly she tooke more paines to
render her selfe thus miserable,
then they haue done to attaine
Beatitude: since the ones course,
was a calme smooth progresse
in the high way that nature
herselfe traced out to them, and to
all men else that haue the good fortune
to discerne it: and the others,
was a continuall toylesome wandring
in the rugged and stony bypathes,
full of bryars and thornes,
where ineuitable precipices surrounded
them on euery hand. And she
seeth that the thinges for which shee
tooke all this paines, and for which
she now endureth so much, and lost
so much; were most vnworthy and
most contemptible pleasures; not
deseruing the name of pleasures,
euen whiles they were enioyed in
their greatest height; that she is
ashamed, and hath horror, to
thinke of: And yet, so wretchedly
vnhappy she is, that she can not
choose but preferre them infinitly
aboue those true goods, which att
the same time she seeth do in reality
and in solide estimation more infinitely
surpasse them; And which therefore
she can not forbeare louing
and desiring with a most vehement
earnestnesse, though not so much as
the mastering affections that tyrannise
ouer her. And consequently
she is most vnhappy, vpon that
score too; since her misplaced affections,
haue rendered her incapable
of enioying any pleasure in them.
How miserable must we conclude
such a soule to be, though she remained
in this state for neuer so
short a while? But when we consider,
how she is to remaine in this condition
for all aeternity; that nothing
can neuer happen to comfort her,
or to asswage her torments, much
lesse to lay them a sleepe for one
small moment of time; that she
is certaine they will dure for euer
all in a heape, and each single by it
selfe, corroding her bowels with the
same raging violence; what distresse,
what horror, what despaire must she
be in? If the looking vpon eternity
with our faint eyes, and the taking
such a poore scantling of it as we are
able, by adding of the greatest
numbers we can comprehend in our
fansies to others as great as they;
then, multiplying them betweene
themselues, and with their productes,
till we haue wearyed out
our selues, and exhausted the rules
of Arithmetike and Algebra, in
counting millions of yeares that it
is to endure: And yet after all, we
find that we haue not attained to
so much as a shadow of that all comprising,
neuer ending, eternity: so
that we grow giddy with seeking to
summe vp such an endlesse account:
What should we conceiue will be the
sense, the horror, and the despaire,
of such a soule; who by the superiority
of her nature hath now full
knowledge, in its most horride
semblance, of that dreadfull eternity,
whose bare shaddow (or scarce
so much) striketh vs into such an
amazement and affright?
By this little (very little, in
respect of what this subiect requireth)
Your Lordship will conceiue,
what apprehension I make of
the state of a separated soule built
vp of improportionable and vnequall
iudgements, by hauing in this
life entertained her selfe totally or
chiefely with materiall obiects, and
settled her mastering affections on
them.
THE IX. CHAPTER.
Of the Beatitude of a well or
dered
soule, after its separa
tion
from the body.
IT is now time that veturne ouer
the leafe, and take a view of an
other soule, that in this life hath
cultiuated her knowledges and affections
to the best aduantage; and
hath employed her selfe, about intellectuall
and re
••
ll goods; and
hath contracted a loue of them;
and in comparison of them, neglecteth
the other muddy ones that
belong to flesh and blood. It is
euident out of what I haue formerly
said, that the affections of such
a soule, when she shall be out of
the body, will be wholly bent vpon
intellectuall goods; as, knowledge,
and truth; and that if she enioy
them, she will be contented and
happy. That she shall enioy them,
is already concluded; when we
shewed, how euery separated soule,
is endowed with fulnesse of knowledge,
and shall vnderstand and know
all that is knowable in nature;
which importeth, All that is, that
euer was, and that euer shall be:
And that she shall know all this,
truly without any admixture of falsehood
or error. But what degree of
happinesse she shall be in by such
knodwledge, is that which we are
to inquire into: In doing whereof,
we shall be faine to take ou
••
measures, by discoursing comparatiuely
of her delightes, to such as
do delight a soule in this life; since
such a soule is so noble a creature,
and so aboue our reach, that
we are not able to iudge positiuely
of her by looking singly. on her
selfe, in her owne nature. How
great the pleasures of sense are, is
but too easie to apprehend. Mankinde
is continually too conuersant
with them, to be ignorant of them.
And so powerfull they are, that we
dayly see men of excellentest partes,
sacrifice their whole liues to the
purchasing and enioying of them.
But if we compare them with the
pleasures of the minde, euen in this
world; we shall find that in respect
of them, they are flatt, meane,
brutall, and inconsiderable. We
see dayly examples of persons, that
hauing bin deepest immersed in those,
(and therefore can not be suspected,
to want the skill of gusting
them) as soone as they haue
come to relish the superior delightes
that are afforded by Intellectual
goods (for euery tast is not presently
fitted for them; being depraued
by preoccupation of the
others) they grow to despise the
entertainements and obiects that
formerly were the Idols of their
affections; and do acknowledge,
that one houre of contemplation
of some noble truth, outweigheth
in the scale of pleasure, yeares of
such delightes as belong to sense.
But I must not content myselfe,
with producing examples or authorities,
to your Lordship: Such arguments
are to be vsed onely to
those that can not penetrate into
the natures and causes of thinges.
You will expect from me, that I
should lay the groundes, why Intellectuall
pleasures, do, of their
owne nature, affect a man more
then corporeall ones. This is easily
and presently done, if we but
consider what it is in Man that is
affected with pleasure: euen with
sensuall pleasure. And as before,
in point of paine; so here, vpon
the same principles, we shall finde,
that it is not the body, but the soule,
that is affected with pleasure,
and that the body and senses, do
but serue to conuey the outward
obiects or motions, to the tribunall
of the minde; who onely sauoureth
and embraceth them vnder the notion
of delightfull. If she be distraught
an other way, with some
strong thought that carrieth her
from the present obiects and company;
be the man att other times
neuer so much affected with musike,
(for example) or with pictures
and statues, or with parfumes, or
with pleasant wines, or with like
entertainements of the senses: All
these may beate att their dores; and
yet he be so farre from being then
delighted with them, that he will
not so much as haue taken notice
of them. If then it be the
soule onely that tasteth pleasure,
she onely being capable of cognition
and able to make reflexion,
(which are necessary circumstances
to the enioying of pleasure) It
followeth necessarily that in a well
composed man, those delights must
affect him most, that are most agreable
and proportionable to that
part of him by which he is delighted.
He who feeleth not this truth
experimentally within himselfe, may
be said to haue the complexion of
his soule spoyled; like those ill
gouerned maydes, who by feeding
on trash of bad nourishement, do
gett the greene sickenesse; and then
do loath meates of wholesome iuices.
For, the truth is (though it
fall not within the compasse of this
discourse) that humane nature hath
bin corrupted in its very source; like
a child that sucketh contagion
from an infected nurse; and is deliuered
ouer, to ill affections, and
to ignorance of what is good for it.
Now, the proper businesse of the
soule, is the enriching her selfe
with knowledge; and her satisfaction
and contentement, is the
contemplation of truth. If the
doing that, in the lowest and meanest
subiect of knowledge, (qnantity,
which is but the accident and
attendant of bodyes; out of the
consideration of which, Geometry
hath its birth) and whose verities
haue no reall existence in nature;
but may seeme in respect of solide
substances, to be but fine cobbewebbes
spunne in the ayre; If
that (I say) do oftentimes carry
men of strongest partes and iudgement
by the delight and pleasure
they find therein, to the neglect
of all sensuall pleasures, and euen
of their life it selfe; How great may
we thinke must the delight be of him
that should haue the solide knowledge
of whole Nature it selfe,
and of all her reall and numerous
progeny? If the contemplation of
a few lines, Angles, and figures,
whose Existence is no were considerable
but in the braine and fansy of
him that playeth with them (for
they are but like sport and exercise
to the minde, to gett her an
appetite to meate of solider nourishement)
can carry away with the
delightfullnesse of it such a man as
Archimedes (one of the greatest
wits that euer were) so farre, as
rather to part with his life, then
with so pleasing a thought: What
pleasure must there be in considering
the whole machine of the Vniuerse,
and of all the bodies that are
contained in it? to behold the beautifull
proportion and symmetry,
that is in euery part of it? the admirable
connexion, that is betweene
each one of them? the nature of
euery one in particular? and the
long chaine of causes and effects,
that runneth trough them all, and
comprehendeth them all? But when
from hence, we raise our selues aboue
all this, and discouer a new world
(infinitely greater then all this) of
pure intellectuall creatures; that
haue no allay of quantity or of bodilinesse;
that are not measured by
time; that are not comprised in
place; that are stored with infinite
knowledge; and that enioy all possible
blisse and happinesse, all at
once; And that this all att once,
shall be stretched out to a neuer ending
Eternity: what wordes can expresse,
how this thought mu
••
needes affect him that penetrater
••
duely into it? But, when to all this
he addeth, that these are not bar
••
truths which are onely pleasant t
••
looke vpon, and do not concern
••
him in his owne particular: but tha
••
indeed, whiles he contemplateth
their nature, he informeth himselfe
of his owne: And that he doth not
study this mappe, like a scholler
that is learning Geography; but
like an Emperor, an Alexander, that
is prouiding to make himselfe
master of the whole region he seeth
there abridged before him (for to
such a state, his soule will arriue,
when she shall be out of the body)
What soule-rauishing pleasure can
we conceiue he then enioyeth? How
litle must he sett by all the fond
toyes that vulgar people busy themselues
about? And how contemptible
and base must he iudge all those
pleasures that affect the senses, in
respect of this that now filleth,
swelleth, and enlargeth his soule?
Yet all this is but a shaddow; nay it
is not so much; it is nothing; in respect
of the pleasure of a separated
soule that during her habitation in
the body, cultiuated these thoughtes:
Which we shall the better discerne,
•
f we examine the differences that
are betweene the cognitions, from
whence spring the pleasures, of an
embodyed, and of a separated soule.
When a man knoweth any thing,
his soule speculateth the fantasmes
that are in his braine; and by reflexion
vpon his knowledge, he is delighted
with it: and the more present
he maketh it to himselfe by
close reflection, the more is his delight:
But the knowledge of a separated
soule, is alwayes essentially
present to her; it is her very selfe;
her owne very Essence & substance:
which can not choose but affect her
more vigourously and liuely, then
what is but knocking att her dore.
Next, a man can thinke of but one
single thing att a time; and att that
present, be delighted with that
onely: which is, because his soule
not being able to worke whiles i
••
is in the body, but by meanes of the
fantasmes in the braine; and they
being materiall obiects, and residing
in a materiall place; the on
••
of them shouldereth out his fellowes,
whenfoeuer he cometh to the
narrow window by which he is to
shew himselfe, and to giue an account
of himselfe, to the soule.
But a separated soule, shall in the
same indiuisible of time, reflect
vpon all, and euery least circumstance
that she knoweth; which is,
all that she gained knowledge of
during her whole abode in the body;
and all that can be deduced out of
that: which (as I haue formerly
shewed) is all that is, or euer was,
in the world, or euer shall or can be.
And she shall haue perfect knowledge,
not onely of euery one in
particular; and of all the causes,
effects, conformities, contrarieties,
and such other circumstances as
immediatly belong to euery one of
them: But shall also see the connexion
that euery one hath with euery
one: how the seuerall linkes of
this admirable chaine that containeth
all that is in the world, from
highest to lowest, are so fitted to
one an other, that if any one of
them were but broken or in disorder,
all would fall in pieces; and
withall, are made with such powerfull
art, that euery one of them is a
support and a strengthning to all the
rest: So that the whole empire of nature
must be destroyed, before
there can be the least failing in any of
the meanest of them. In the third
place, lett vs consider how an embodyed
soules knowledge is but a
kind of passion or impression from
outward obiects; and in all her operations,
is dulled by her heauy and
resistent copartner: But a separated
soule, is a pure actiuity; a subsistent
forme; no potentiality or resistance
belonging to it: So that nothing
among bodies, can expresse the nature
and manner of its working. It
were too litle, farre, to say that her
operations are like the soddainenesse
of the sunnes illuminating the
whole hemisphere, or like the quicke
violence of lightening, when in the
twinkle of an eye it reacheth from
East to West, and teareth vast trees
〈◊〉
by the rootes, and ouerturneth solidest
buildinges: for betweene such,
and the weake creeping of a snaile,
there is some proportion; but betweene
the other, none att all. In
the fourth place, lett vs consider
how the pleasures of this life consist
in succession. When one part of them
is, the other partes of it are not. Or
rather, no part of them is present.
For you can not assigne, not so much
as with your thought, any present
moment; but whiles you are thinking
of it, it vanisheth. If the Now
which you would pitch vpon, be
more then an indiuisible instant,
part of it is past, and the other part
not yet come: what you graspe art,
to stay it from sliding by you, is such
an indiuisible as may be called nothing;
and yet that nothing, whiles
you are but thinking Here it is, is
flowne as much out of your reach
as the first houre the world was created
in. On the other side; the pleasures
of a separated soule, are stretched
out as farreias Eternity extendeth
it selfe; by an vninterrupted
succession, of continuall enioying without
any diuisibility, or subsequent
or precedent partes, of its durance:
And do comprehend all sucession, all
time, (were it multiplyed by the sandes
of the sea, vpon millions of yeares;
and infinitely beyond all that)
not in one permanent and standing
Now, of actuall comprehension of
them by Existence (which belongeth
onely to God) but in an assurance
and euident certainty, that
her present happy cōdition is lyable
to no change, to no vicissitude, to no
diminution, to no ebbing and flowing.
The pleasures that would require
millions of yeares to tast them
all (and infinitely more) are here
by a strange Alchymy distilled and
exalted into a quintessence of one
minute, which minute is fixed for
euer from fleeting, is permanent,
can neuer fade, or the pleasures of
it relent in the least degree. And in
the last place, let vs consider how
great an allay to all the pleasures of
this life, is, the casuality of them
••
the thought that they may betaken
from him who enioyeth them, or
he from them; and, that griefes and
sorrowes may succeede to the happiest
humane condition that can
be imagined; is enough to sower it
all. But a separated soule is secure
that she can neuer haue her state
changed. She knoweth, that for all
aeternity, it will euer be the fame.
Her pleasure being the result of
her knowledge, she seeth clearely
that there are but three gates by
which any change can come in vpon
it: And if all these be safely barred
& fenced, she is out of danger or any
mutation. These three, are; either
her selfe, who is the knower; or the
obiects, which she knoweth; or the
knowledge, that she hath of them.
As for her selfe; her Indiuisibility,
and her immateriality, do exempt
her, both from any inward principles
of fayling within her selfe,
and from the power of any outward
Agents working to her preiudice.
And therefore, on that side, she is
immutable. As for the obiects she
knoweth; there can arriue no change
in them, in regard of her: for
though some of them be subiect to
the empire of time, and consequently
are alwayes in a fleeting
and changing condition; yet, those
changes she is aware of; they are all
present to her: so that if they did
not change according to the law setled
for their change, which she is
fully acquinted with; there would
be a change in them, in respect of
her. Lastly; her knowledge, can admitt
no change; since nothing of
what she knoweth, can euer be lost
by her; it being all as indefectible
as her selfe; and indeed, her very
selfe
••
Neyther can she purchase
any new knowledge to contradict
or weaken what she already knoweth;
since she already knoweth
all that is knowable. And thus it is
euident, that her pleasure, being
built vpon these indefectible and
vnchangeable foundations, is immutable,
and will last in the same
height for all
〈◊〉
: And of this,
she is most certaine; and consequently
enioyeth her happinesse
with all security. Lett vs now summe
vp the account we ha
••
e bin making
of a happy soules ioyes; and we
shall finde the product
••
o great as
will amaze vs. We haue found, how
the pleasure of the soule, consi
••
teth in
knowledge; or, at least, is a result of
knowledge. And to preuent, that
sensuall men may not thinke
••
his to
be but a dull and flatt pleasure, in
respect of the poinant ones that
the body seemeth to be
〈◊〉
of,
we haue shewed, how euen all corporeall
pleasures, are no otherwise
pleasures then as they affect the
soule; and that it is onely shee, who
is delighted with them: And that
her
••
ne proper and immediate
pleasure, doth affect her, euen in
this life, without comparison more
then those turbulent ones which
come to her by the conduites of her
senses, after that custome and due
perception of them hath once rendered
them familiar to her, and
hath restored her to the gouernement
of that Common wealth which
her vassals had gotten possession of in
her minority, and whiles (as I may
say) she was in her cradle and not
yet awake. We haue found, that this
pleasing knowledge is not onely, of
one, or of a few obiects; (like those
of men; who whiles they are intent
vpon the delightes of one obiect,
can not relish those of an other) but
of the whole machine of the Vniuerse;
all, that Gods hand mayde,
nature, euer did, will, or can make;
gouerner, and conserue; and how,
when, and why, she performeth all
her workes: Not onely in all the vast
world of matter, (whereof we
in this life; conuerse with, and haue
knowledge of, but the least parcels)
But also in the much vaster
Region of spirits; who, besides the
neere infinity of their number, haue
yet this aduantage ouer corporeal
••
thinges, that the meanest and lowest
of all that innumerable multitude,
is in entire world within himselfe,
infinitely greater richer more
beautifull and excellent then all
the whole vast world of bodies; And
hath infinitely more power to worke
what he will vpon it all, and
vpon euery part of it, att once, (when
the doing so, should agree with the
rules of his wisedome) then the
strongest Gyant that fiction euer
built vp, can be imagined to haue
in respect of mouing a slender straw
or downy feather, or of crushing a
litle bubble vpon the water. We
haue also found that this vnfatho
••
able
sea of knowledge, is alwayes
in a high flood of a spring
••
ide on
euery coast; not sometimes ebbing
on one shore, whiles it floweth on
〈◊〉
other; but alwayes swelling and
ouling euery where ouer all bankes
that might hemme it in; and enioy
••
ng
all her seuerall knowledges,
and the delightes of them, all att
••
nce; as intent to euery one of them
a particular, as to any one of them
whatsoeuer: Which are so farre from
breeding a confusion, that euen
one of that incomprehensible multitude,
strenghtheneth and heighteneth
euery other of them; and i
••
againe strengthened and; heightened
by it; and each, maketh the
other be more tasted and better relished.
Which tast in her, is not a
cold or flatt one, dulled and blunted
with too much feeding vpon her
delightes (as happeneth to corporeall
ones, who loose their smartenesse,
either by the too great actiuity
of the obiects working vpon
them, as when too great a light
blindeth ones eyes; or by being too
much glutted with them, as when
one surfetteth with delightfull mea
••
es;
and the like) but is all actiuity
a kind of perpetuall growing in appetite;
a continuall effusion of itselfe
with violent transport vpon
this All and euery least parcell o
••
it, that so delighteth it. And ye
••
this effusion is not as vpon a pleasant
obiect art some distance from i
••
selfe;
as when a man looketh vpon
a faire picture or fairer originall,
that delighteth him: Nor yet att
lesse distance, as when pleasant wine
or meare slideth ouer the pala
••
e
that is affected with them, and doth
mingle some litle atomes of their
bodies with it: Nor as when more
delightfull motions make a change
in the sensiblest partes of a mans body,
to begett in him a higher straine
of pleasure then all the former; then
which, it may seeme that nothing
can be neerer. But it is farre more
intime to the soule then all this: It
is she her selfe: All this pleasure of
hers, is engrafted vpon her owne
very Being:
••
t is a perpetuall effusion
of her who
••
e selfe, vpon her whole
selfe: she needeth no reflexion
vpon it to make it present to her
(as all pleasures of the body do, to make
them perceiued & relished) or
rather, she is in a continuall most
strict reflexion vpon it, as hauing it
most intimely and substantially present
to her; for it is purely she her very
selfe: And therefore she is in a perpetuall,
vninterrupted, chewing,
relishing, and enioying, with a most
quicke sense, hungry appetite, and
incomprehensible actiuity, of all
and of euery one of these her wonderfull
delightes. Which it is not
enough to say she enioyeth all att
once; meaning onely that she enioyeth
the pleasure of euery one of
them att the same time: But because
her enioying is without succession;
It fareth with her, as with
wine, for example; the actiuity and
vertue of a whole tonne whereof is
drawne into a small measure of
aether
••
all spirit: or as with the diffused
sunne beames; which being
reduced to one point, do there become
burning; whereas in their extension,
they were but warme: So
in her the whole
••
asse and dilatation
of delight which we may fansi
••
would take vp innumerable millions
of yeares to runne ouer, is extracted
into one Minute; into a perpetuall
N
••
w; And the vertue (as
I may say) which required to be diffused
through all that vast space, is
sublimed into this narrow, roome:
and yet againe this narrow roome,
or the concentrated vertue of it, is
multiplyed so as to be all of it in
euery moment of such a vast succession:
As if after the extraction
of the spirit, it were, multiplyed
to fill againe the whole vessel
with such: or after the burning
glasses exposition to the sunne, euery
line of light reflected from it or
refracted through it, should become
as hott and burning, as that
single one which maketh the toppe
of the Cone that terminateth the
sunnes rayes. Now then, after we haue
multiplyed such excesses, such
burning pointes of pleasure, by
euery one of the seuerall innumerable
pleasures she enioyeth thus
all att once, and that she is effused
vpon with the whole actiuity of her
Nature (which is all sence, all fire)
What will be the product and totall
of such immense particulars? The
vast number of atomes of sand, that
Archimedes hath so wittily sett
downe, and shewed was sufficient
to fill vp all the space betweene our
earth and the heauen; would not
expresse this foote of our account;
No not though it were neuer so often
multiplyed within it selfe. For
those multiplications would still
begett but terminated numbers;
whereas this, is beyond all number,
as she is aboue all time, by being
aboue and beyond all quantity.
Lastly, when for a crowne and full
completing of all this immense delight
and hapinesse, we shall consider,
that the state she is in, admitteth
no lessening or change; that she is
secure she can neuer loose any smallest
parcell of it, nor be interrupted
in the full and vigourous fruition
of it; but that it will last euer the
same, for all aeternity; and beas it
were still beginning, and still fresh;
Your Lordship (I belieue) will not
expect from me any further reflection
vpon this dazeling subiect. I
will therefore put an end to my
course and weake expressions, that
fall infinitly short of what I feele
within me, when, in silence and in
quiet, I contemplate the ioyes and
blisse of a separated soule, departed
out of her body, after due cultiuating
her selfe there, by such a
course of life, as Reason (could we
but discerne and follow her directions)
prescribeth to euery man:
The deuiating from whose rules,
begetteth such an vnhappy state as
on the other side of this medall, I
haue endeauoured to engraue. Both
which, I haue sheved to be vnchangeable,
as long as the soules that
enioy them do remaine naked and
seuered from their bodies. But
what alteration they may be capable
of, if euer they come to be clothed
againe by their bodies, and to
be reunited to them; (by whose mediation
onely, new impressions may
be made vpon a soule) belongeth
to another place to consider.
THE X. CHAPTER.
That the complete Beatitude
of a separated soule consisteth
in the sight of God.
MAy I not seeme vnto your
Lordship to haue amplifyed
& exaggerated beyond possibility of
truth, the states either of weale or of
〈◊〉
, belonging to a separated soule?
If it happen, that any besides
your selfe, do reade this discourse
(especially if they be not inured
to rigourous proofes, and to Metaphysicall
speculations) I can not
expect, but that they should looke
vpon the immense happinesse or misery,
I haue in it allotted to the
share of a separated soule, as an
vnbelieuable Paradoxe. And they
that should be most fauourable to
me, will be apt to suspect (according
to their looser manner of iudging
morall affaires; which endure
not such peremptory decisions,
and so remote inferences heaped
one vpon an other) that howeuer
there seemeth to be a pretty connexion
in all I haue said, and an
appearance of a sequele betweene
the principles I haue taken, and
the conclusions I haue deduced out
of them; Yet, that I haue driuen
them too farre; and that in so perplexed
and long a discourse, there
may easily haue slided in some litle
errors or aequiuocations in sundry
iointes of it, which in the last conclusion
may haue caused an enormous
mistake, though euery one of
them in particular were almost an
imperceptible one: And therefore,
that these are rather pretty dreames,
hanging handsomely together, of a
much thinking and melancholike
man; then reall and solide truths.
And att best, they will looke admiringly
vpon them, as vpon vnconceiuable
expressions; without being
att all moued and affected by them.
But whatsoeuer others may thinke,
who like vnto ill husbandes do
looke but vpon the totall sommes
of the accountes their Stewardes
bring them in, without examining
the particulars from whence they
grow; I am sure your Lordship will
exactly weigh the reasons, vpon
which I ground this bold and far,
re-reaching conclusion; And when
you haue done so, I doubt not but
you will find in it the same fault
that I do; namely, that my expressions
arriue not to sett out the reall
vastnesse of the thing I speake of.
To the reasons I haue brought, I
could haue added many more in
confirmation of this great truth,
for, the arguments I haue produced,
are but a few, and that first occurred
in the heate of writing, among the
many that I might haue employed,
if I would haue aymed att making
a large and complete treatise vpon
this subiect. But my ayme, is, onely
to giue your Lordship hintes of
the chiefe pointes that I
••
ould recommend
to your consideration, as
relying more vpon what your o
••
ne
strong discourse will suggest vnto
you vpon such important considerations,
after your thoughtes are
once wakened to attend to them;
then vpon any thing I should be
able to say. I pretend but to spring
the game for you: And then, if
you like what riseth, you will fly
it home.
If an Apologie for the faintnesse
of my expressions, was euer needfull;
certainly it is now most necessary,
for what I shall say in this Chapter:
Where I labour vnder such a Weight
of matter, that I want language to
expresse but a bare shaddow of it.
Yet I must not do as the great painter
did, who hauing expressed as
much passion as he could in the lookes
of the by-standers att Iphigenia's
Sacrifice, drew a veyle ouer her fathers
face; because he found his
art too weake, to describe so great
a sorrow as his; And so left it to
the spectators thoughts, to conceiue
what a one that might be. For if
I say nothing more then I haue
done, of a separated soules blisse
or woe: It may seeme that I haue
no apprehension or suspition of any
thing, beyond what I haue already
layed groundes for. And on the
other side, if I should go about to
delineate scrupulously that which
is the title of this Chapter; I should,
not onely misse of displaying to your
Lordship the redundant light that
shineth in this next region; but
strike my selfe blind with looking
too fixedly vpon it. I will then go
••
a middle way, And say enough to
make you see, how that meruailous
exuberance of good or bad I haue
shewed doth betyde a separated
soule, is nothing, (not neere so
much as an Atome to the whole
world) in respect of what will be
her lotte in order to the seeing
〈◊〉
God Almighty: And yet, not engulfe
my selfe farre in this
〈◊〉
ocean, that hath no shore on any
side.
It is euident, out of what ha
••
beene already sayed; that, seeing
this life is short, our acts in it meane,
and our science in it very limited
and narrow : And that on the
contrary side, the next life is aeternall,
a soules acts in it wonderfull
high, and her science immense: The
great and finall happinesse of man,
is not to be expected in this life, but
in the next. It is euident also, that
our hapinesse being to be respited till
the next life, where we shall haue no
senses to reape pleasures by
••
it can
not consist in sensuall pleasures: And
consequently, that it must consist in
the operations of the soule; which
are nothing but knowledge, & what
resulteth out of that. Now, all knowledge,
is either of effects, or of causes.
Of the first kind, is all that
knowledge of a separated soule
which we haue bin hitherto discour
••
ing
of: for, all the obiects of it, are
••
omprised vnder the generall head
of Creatures. The knowledge of
••
heir Creator, can not be doubted
••
o be as much superior to that, as
the nature and excellency of such a
cause, is superior to the effect that
proceedeth from it. And considering
the dignity of so Almighty and
infinite a cause, as God, the Creator
of all thinges; a naturall man
may reasonably question whither a
separated soule (who is but a particular
and limited creature) be capable
of arriuing to see (that is, to
know) this all comprehending and
infinitely all exceeding cause. He
may soone be resolued of his doubt,
if he reflect vpon the course of nature
in wafting man kinde to his
long home: for doing so, he will see
how this life is a perpetuall progresse
in bettering, (or, designed
to the bettering) of the soule's
knowledge in the next life; as being
the end of humane nature, and the
onely thing that can giue it rest
and satisfaction. He will also see,
that as in the next life there is an
infinite encrease of knowledge:
so must there be also, an infinite
encrease of the desire to see the
cause of those infinite effects which
we shall then see & admire; Experience
telling vs, that a cleare
and lightsome vnderstanding, is
euer vnquiett and thirsting to see
the cause of the effect he taketh
content in; And reason likewise
abetting it, by shewing how it is impossible
to see an effect perfectly, if
one pierce not into the cause of it;
for vnlesse he do so, he would not
know why the effect is. So that it is
euident, the whole course of nature,
driueth to promote and aduance
in vs the desire of seeing the
Vniuersall cause of the infinite effects
that a separated soule shall
see. And consequently, the desire
of seeing God our creatour, is planted
and engrafted in man by the intention
of nature. What is so; is impossible
to be frustraneous, and totally
without effect; but of necessity
will be fulfilled in some. For,
Nature, is nothing else, but the rules
that the infinite wisedome and
goodnesse of God hath alotted to all
creatures. And it would not agree
with those attributes, to prescribe
any of them a periode, vnto which
none of their kinde should euer arriue.
Well may those he planteth in
the Sphere of contigency, miscarry
in sundry indiuiduals; since it is the
nature of contingency, that some
should miscarry, whiles others arriue
to their periode. But if all should
miscarry, and none succeede; it
would no longer be contingency,
but impossibility: and it might be
concluded, that nature were vnduely
moulded; and the meanes to
bring it to its end, vnwisely ordered.
And in our case, we might adde,
malice and cruelty, to the imprudence:
since, by the course of our
nature, we should be brought ineuitably
to an eternity of misery, by
causing in vs a most vehement and
most actife desire of knowing and
seeing that which we must neuer attaine
to see. And the best men, that
haue most cultiuated their soules
according to the prescriptions of
nature, would drinke deepest
〈◊〉
this bitter cuppe of gall and misery.
Therefore, we may settle it
for a firme and certaine truth, that
some soules shall arriue to see, (that
is, to know) God, the Vniuersall
cause of all thinges; as already I
haue proued, that all soules shall
arriue to know all thinges else. Lett
vs now compare these two knowledges,
one with an other; and examine
which of them is the greater
and the more excellent. We are sure
that God is an vnderstanding: And
consequently, he knoweth what he
is to do, before he doth it. Whence
followeth, that he being the cause
and maker of all creatures, he vnderstandeth
and knoweth them all.
Therefore, he that should haue
that great register displayed to
him to reade the contents of it,
would find all creatures comprehended
in it. And to know
them there, is so much nobler,
then to know them in themselues;
by how much nobler and excellenter,
they must necessarily be in that
great vnity and identity which they
haue in him, then in their owne
multiplicity and dispersion. Vnto
which we may adde, the infinite excesse
of thinges, which he could,
but neuer will, make; ouer those
he hath or shall haue made. And
then we can not doubt, but that the
knowledge of God, must be farre
beyond the knowledge of all creatures.
But when besides this knowing
of all creatures in God, we
shall putt into the scale to it the
knowledge of God in his owne nature
and Essence; the other scale
wherein is the knowledge of creatures
in themselues, will not onely
become light beyond all proportion,
but will vanish out of sight; like a
candle, that though it giue light
enough to make a whole chamber
luminous in the night, dissappeareth
(euen whiles it burneth) if
you sett it in the beames of the
noone day sunne. They who vnderstand
Metaphysikes, will contemplate
how the nature of Existence, is of a
pitch incomparably aboue that of Essence.
For Essences are but possibilities;
dead notions; till Existence come to
enliuen and to actuate them. After
which they are still defectible. For
they carry alwayes with them a capacity
of being diuided from their
Existence; which if it happen, they
presently fall backe to their inuisible
Chaos. But Existence can neuer
fade. The nature of it, is, to Be; and
consequently, to exclude not Beeing.
It dwelleth in so high a region, as
nothing can arriue thither, but
whom It eleuateth vp to it selfe.
Here, God hath his habitation. But
I correct my selfe: this is improperly
said; as though God, had his
place among other thinges, likewise
ranked there. He endureth no
companion. He filleth the whole region.
All of it belongeth to him singly.
He alone possesseth it all. And
therefore it followeth, that a
••
oule
raised vp to the knowledge and sight
of him, must needes be infinitely
〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉
more noble and more Excellent,
then an other that hath but the Essences
of thinges drawne into her
by the knowledge of them. If then,
these two knowledges, that of God,
and that of creatures, could not
agree together; but, that to acquire
the one, the other must be deserted;
There can be no doubt, but
that the knowledge of creatures,
ought to be abandonned for the
sight of him. For it is euident, that
the happinesse which a soule must
necessarily enioy by seeing of him;
is as much beyond that happinesse
which we haue formerly described,
resulting out of the vast knowledge
which a soule hath in the next life; as
that knowledge, exceedeth the
tryfling knowledge mankinde enioyeth
in this world. But this is not
the case. These knowledges are not
incompossible. For it is the nature
of knowledge, to be so farre from
ones hindering an other; that there
is none, but of its nature, induceth
and perfecteth some other knowledge.
And accordingly, the knowledge
of Almighty God encreaseth
the knowledge of creatures; shewing
vs why they are; and solidating
their knowledge, vpon the vnshakable
foundation of Gods knowledge.
And consequently, the more that
a soule shall know God; the more
firme and the more strong will be
the knowledge she shall haue of
creatures. Neuerthelesse, when we
consider that God is an obiect, whose
admirablenesse is aequall to his owne
vnderstanding: that is, exceeding
ours, beyond what it possible
to be conceiued: we must conclude,
that when a created vnderstanding
enioyeth the knowledge and sight
of him, it can not choose but be
so employed and taken vp by that
sight, as not withstanding the vehement
desire which we haue shewed
it hath to see it, yet it hath
not desire enough to cleaue and apply
it selfe to that obiect: much
lesse, hath it any left for other
thinges, but meerely as it is carried
on by the sight of God. And consequently,
it mattereth not to a soule
that seeth God, whither she see any
thing else or no: but she is entirely
contented and ouerwhelmed with
the greatnesse of that fundamentall
sight. And although she knoweth
and estimeth to the full the
true worth of the sight of other
thinges: Yet she is so drowned and
absorbed in the sight of God (which
so infinitely exceedeth the other)
that she is no more affected with it,
then a man would be with the hauing
of that which is but a pure medium
to helpe him to compasse some
end or good he desireth for its owne
sake. As for example; when a
sicke man drinketh a potion to recouer
his health; if the physike
be such as hath no plesantnesse,
(but rather the contrary) in its
tast; he valueth it not att all for its
owne sake, but onely as it is a meanes
to procure him health. And so,
the soule that seeth God, accepteth
of the sight of all creatures, as a
meere consequent and appendix to
the sight of God. Thus we see clearely,
that in this composition of these
two knowledges; the whole of both,
is comprised in that which is the
principall; And by it, is all the
pleasure, and in it, all the good of
them both. And consequently; God
and the sight of him, is the true
blisse of man; the sole end for which
he was created; the periode whereunto
nature driueth, in all her
course concerning him; and which
once attained, he is quiett, entirely
contented, and can wish for no
more.
On the contrary side; If a separated
soule do faile of the sight of
God, she cannot choose but know,
that all this we haue declared is
true; And the euidence of it, will
be confirmed to her by all the immense
knowledge she shall haue in
the next world: And consequently,
she must needes be vnspeakably
••
rtured by this vnhappy losse; and,
••
s it were, gnash her teeth and
gnaw her owne bowels, for remorse,
shame, and indignation. And thus,
the misery or happinesse of a separated
soule; by the interuening of
God into the account, cometh to
be raised and swelled aboue what in
the last Chapter I declared of them,
as much as what is infinite exceedeth
the least parcell of Quantity;
AEternity, time; selfe-Existence, defectible
natures; And in a word,
God, creatures.
I am persuaded that after all
this, your Lordship will not censure
me of being niggardly in allowing
pleasure or paine to soules in
the next world. Yet seeing that the
composition of man, includeth a
body, aswell as a soule: I conceiue
you will not be displeased, if I adde
a word or two concerning the pleasures
of sense, which will belong to
a happy soule: the contrary whereof,
will be the lotte of an vnhappy
one; And therefore what I shall say
of the one, will require but turning
ouer the leafe to referre it to the
other. It is very true, a separated
soule is eapable of no other pleasure,
then such as belongeth to a
soule: Yet if we looke well into the
matter, we shall finde, that this
pleasure of the soule compriseth
also all the pleasures of the senses.
For this end, your Lordship may
please to remember, how I haue
formerly shewed that in the sensuall
pleasures which a man enioyeth
in this life, it is not his senses that
are affected with them. For, all
pleasure dependeth of knowledge:
And therefore, wheresoeuer we meete
with expressions or semblances
of pleasure, that are not accompanyed
with knowledge; we may truly
say, they are but like such expressions
and imitations of life, as
cunning artificers bring to passe
by wheeles and engines enclosed
in a boxe, whereby the statue of a
man, of a beast, of a bird, of a
fish, or of a fly, is made to imitate
the naturall motion of the
creature it tepresenteth. But our
senses are not endewed with knowledge,
as hath beene explicated:
Therefore the pleasure which they
conuey vnto vs, can not reside in
them; but belongeth onely to that
part of vs, where knowledge is; that
is, to our soule: And in truth is
nothing else but the very pleasure
of knowledge. Hence it followeth,
that since in the next life we haue
all knowledge; and consequently
all knowledge gotten by sense;
we must haue there, also all pleasure
of sense. So that we shall haue
there by our naturall knowledge,
all pleasure, both of sense and
of vnderstanding. Now, because
the sight of God comprehendeth in
it selfe, all pleasure of vnderstanding;
it followeth, that in it alone
is comprised all pleasure of sense,
and of vnderstanding, together with
that pleasure which is proper to the
sight of God. Which in summe, is
a collection of all good, in an act
that of its owne nature is vnperishable.
And so it is euident, the
sight of God, is, true and complete
hapinesse; including in it selfe,
all that a man can desire; without
feare of euer loosing it: And therefore,
perfectly quieteth the minde
that enioyeth it, for all AEternity.
I have said vnperishable; not
onely, as the soule her selfe and
her acts, are naturaly vnchangeable:
but, out of the speciality and
propriety of this very act of seeing
God. For, God of his owne Nature,
actuating all thinges that haue
Potentiality to him; and the soule,
being by Loue a potentiality to
God; It followeth, that as long as
she loueth him, he can not forbeare
the actuating of her; which is,
the being her Blisse. And on the
other side; his actuating of her,
being her seeing that he is all her
good; she can not cease from louing
him, as long as he doth not
cease from actuating her. So that,
his actuation, being necessitated
by her louing him; and her louing
him, being necessitated by his actuating
of her; the conjunction is
made vnseparable, by the very Essences
of the two partes. Besides
this, if we consider how diuines
teach vs, that our beatificall vision
is made by the immediate conjunof
God Almighty his Essence to our
vnderstanding; and that by consequence,
his being vnderstood by
him selfe, becometh the Being of
our soule as it vnderstandeth him:
And, that his being vnderstood by
himselfe, is his very AEternity: We
shall find, that Eternity it selfe, is
the duration of our soule, as she
is the vnderstanding or seeing of
him. Now, if Eternity be the duration
of our blisse; who can question
whither it be vnperishable, or
no? See (My Lord) what a pitch
we are arriued vnto, to participate
the very God-head it selfe, in
its owne Eternity! Is not what the
Apostle hath told vs, perfectly true,
Quod, oc
••
lus non vidit, ne
••
aur
••
andiuit, nec in cor hominis ascendit,
quae praeparauit Deus ijs qui diligunt
ilum?
THE XI. CHAPTER.
That there is a certaine methode
and way to bring mankind to
Beatitude. And of the necessi
ty
of knowing it.
WHat hath beene hither to
said; bauing euinced the
Immortality of the soule;
and pointed att the pleasures of
a happy one when she is out of the
body, together with the miseries of
an vnhappy one; and glanced in
grosse, att the different wayes which
leade to these so different states;
And settled this great Principle,
That Beatitude is not to be looked
for in this world, but in the next: It
can not be doubted, but that when
an vnderstanding man shall haue
well considered all this, his heart
will be sett on fire to learne which
is the straight, and beaten way, that
may leade him with security to so
great a good, intended him by God
and Nature. For he can not choose
but see, that no good of this
world can be paragoned to that blisse;
as also, that no action is worth
the doing, that is not aymed att
purchasing that hoped and desired
Beatitude. But when to this he shall
adde; that although he trauell not
by designe in the opposite way, but
that meerely through heedelessenesse
or ignorance he do walke out of
the vight way; all such by-steppes
do swarue his soule from her true
good; and as farre as they aduance
him not, so farre they preiudice
him: He will then conclude, that
the methode and course of arriuing
to this supreme and sole good; is
not onely the worthiest, the noblest,
and the vsefullest art he can study:
But that in very deed, all others are
but fond and vaine misse-spendings
of time; And that this onely, is
the businesse he is to employ himselfe
a bout, with all his industry
and application. He will be afraid
of being ill directed: and will be
solicitous to meete with a cleare and
distinct rule that may instruct him
how to treade boldly in euery steppe
he is to make: And therefore will not
be content with discerning in grosse,
that the entertaining of his thoughts
and affections with Intellectuall
goods, will make him happy; and that
his settling them vpon sensuall ones,
will bring him to a contrary condition:
But seeing that these generals
do branch out into numerous
particulars, euery one of which
requireth a particular diffection, and
proper motiues and inducements
to embrase or auoyde them; He
will be anxious and serupulous in
seeking out the greatest certitude
and infallibility that man's nature
and the course of second causes can
afford him, to be right in this pointe.
In the meane time, during such
his attentiue and earnest inquiry,
he will haue the comfort of being
secure that there is such an art: And
that it is not like the specious vndertakinges
(for example) of those
who pretend to an vniuersall science,
or Matrice tongue, whereby one
may learne all others in very short
time; which haue no subsistance, but
in credulous persons ayry fansies.
For he who is able to weigh in his
thoughts the progresse of Gods
prouidence in his wayes to compasse
his desired Endes vpon this world;
can not doubt but that he must haue
framed stronger engines to bring
about the saluation of mankinde,
then for any other designe that he
hath sett on foote within our reach
and kenning: not onely, as being
the noblest end of all others; but
euen that, vnto which the whole
course of nature tendeth, and for
which all this world that we conuerse
with is made. And therefore he
will conclude, that the security of
obtaining the true meanes to gaine
Beatitude, must be as great (if not
greater) then the security of mens
liuing peaceably and happily together
vnder the reglement of ciuill
and politicke constitutions, or what
other security soeuer is in the gouernement
of man's life. And consequently,
if he compare the certitude
belonging to the science
which is to bring mankinde to
Beatitude, with the certitude of
such knowledges or rules as gouerne
the arts that are vsuall among
men, (as Agriculture, Military
discipline, the art of Nauigation,
and all sortes of handicraftes and
trades) he will looke for att the
least as great in this science, if not
greater. But all these sortes of men,
being taught by continuall experience,
that when they worke according
tho the rules of their art,
the effect succeedeth to their wish;
are so secure in their seuerall wayes,
that they can not admitt any
doubt of the certainty and truth of
their rules. Wee haue reason therefore
to expect in this art of gouerning
our actions in order to Beatitude,
att the least such a security
as may aequalise the security springing
from experience that is in trades
and manufactures. And this is
by so much the more necessary, by
how much the subiect of this art,
hath greater difficulties then the
subiects of others arts. First, because
this is both speculatiue and practicall;
whereas others are onely practicall.
In others, euery man desireth to
do well: In this, for the most part,
passions and interests make men desire
not to do well. In others, no man
doubteth of his rules; and all his labour
is onely to apply them rightly:
But in this art, there is difficulty,
aswell to vnderstand and belieue
the principles of it; as to apply
them to our life when we know
them. In other arts, a Master or
teacher is readily mett with, and
the manner to acquire them is obuious:
But in this, a maine difficulty
is the seeking and discerning of a
right teacher. Lastly, other arts
containe but some one part of a
mans action and life; But this, comprehendeth
all our whole life; and
principally, the highest partes of it.
I may therefore conclude, that the
art of comming to Beatitude (which
we call Religion) is the highest, the
amplest, and the necessariest of all
Artes whatsoeuer. The highest; because
the scope of it is to gaine
Beatitude: which is our chiefe
End; and vpon which, all that is
otherwise pleasing to vs ought to
depend. The amplest; because in
the vse and application of it, it extendeth
to all our actions. And the
most necessary; because if he be not
instructed in it, he will infallibly
miscary and perish. For as a man that
is no Architect or Musician, and
hath not learned how to build a
house or to play a lesson on the lute;
though he will not be blamed for
his ignorance in those arts, (which
happily is not through his owne default;
but by some impossibility of
getting instructions in them) yet if
the one goe to build himselfe an
habitation, or the other to touch a
lute, they will not effect what they
ayme att: But the disordely machine
of stones and timber of the
first's imitation of a house, will fall
vpon his head; and the seconds inconcerted
strokes and stoppes, will
annoy his owne and his hearers eares.
In like manner, if a man haue not
the true knowledge of liuing so as
to attaine Beatitude; Although he
be not blamed for incredulity, if it
were neuer duely proposed vnto
him; yet he shall faile of obtaining
the blisse that followeth out of a well
ordered life, and shall inherit in the
next world all those tormentes and
miseries which I haue expressed and
shewed to be the effects and sequele
of a disordered life in this. And therefore,
no excuse serueth a man's
turne for his ignorance in this art:
which is so absolutely necessary,
that without it (be the cause what it
will) he is lost and ruined for euer.
THE XII. CHAPTER.
How the methode and science of
attaining to Beatitude (which
is true Religion) is to be lear
ned.
And that it is not come
into the world by humane rea
son
or inuention.
THE art then of well liuing, or
Religion, being a certaine and
a diffu
••
ed science, reaching to euery
action of a man's life, as is deliuered;
Our next inquiry must be;
how to compasse the knowledge of
it. It is euident that there can be but
two wayes to arriue vnto it; namely;
Either by ones owne Inuention, or
else by an others instruction: There
being no third way of acquiring any
science. For, a man cometh vnto it,
either by driuing of consequences
out of knowledges that are euident
as soone as they are proposed (such
like as are the Axiomes, vpon
which Mathematicians do build
their demonstrations) And this is
the course of Inuention: or else, he
must be beholding to some other
man who knoweth that science, for
instructing him in it. And from such a
one, he may deriue his knowledge
in two different manners: The first,
when he that is posseded of a truth,
doth so explicate it and all belonging
to it, that att the last the learner
seeth the truth it selfe, and
comprehendeth all the reasons of it,
as fully as his instructour doth; And
so, though he be beholding to him
for begetting such science in him;
yet now he hath no longer neede of
him, but is as strong in it as he. And
the gaining of knowledge in this
manner, may be conceiued to sauour
in some sort of Inuention, as
well as of discipline. But the second,
belongeth purely to discipline; As
when the learner arriueth no higher
then barely to vnderstand what his
teacher sayth; and att the furthest, to
haue some morall likely hood that
it is true; but att the head, relyeth
vpon his teacher, as one who he is
certainly persuaded can neither be
ignorant of the truth he deliuereth,
nor can lye and deceiue his disciple.
For if either of these faile, the disciple
can haue no certainty or rationall
confidence of the t
••
uth deliuered
him: And then consequently,
in our present case of Religion, he
will want that quiet, that security,
& that content of hart, which accompanyeth
ones belieuing that he is in
the right way of obtaining the happinesse
he aymeth att.
Now to apply vnto the knowledge
of Religion, these two wayes of attaining
any science, Inuention and
discipline: I will begin with examining
whither it may reasonably be
hoped, that humane Inuention
could discouer it, or no. Some may
thinke the negatiue; because in the
mysteries of it there are no lines of
demonstration; that is, no such
connexion of them vnto principles
euident to vs by nature, that out of
them any man, be he neuer so knowing,
or euen an Angell, could deduce
them. To discusse this in particular,
were to enter vpon all the seuerall
mysteries of our faith; and
shew, how they either are, or are not,
connexed with reason: which, besides
that it were two long a worke
for my designed breuity, would be
too heauy a burthen for my weake
shoulders; who am not so vaine as
to pretend to any more of diuinity
then what is necessary for euery rationall
man to settle him in a right
course; which amounteth to no
more, then to the finding of a certain
and infallible guide to carry him safely
to the end of this important
iorney; But if your Lordship desire
to satisfy your selfe herein, giue me
leaue referre you to Maister Whites.
Dialogues (vnder the name of
Rushworth) of the Iudgement of
common sense in choice of Religion,
and to the same author's sacred Institutions
newly come a broad into
••
the world; in which learned workes
you will find abundanr content.
That therefore which I shall note
vpon this occasion, is, That howeuer
there may be in the mysteries themselues,
sufficient groundes to build
demonstrations vpon; yet in regard
of vs, there is no hope that we
should be able to penetrate into
them, without hauing first learned
them otherwise. For our Nature is
so encumbred with materiall fantasmes;
and all that we speake, or
thinke, is deliuered in such aequinocall
wordes; and aboue all, most
men are so blinded by passions and
so byassed by interests; and they
••
eete with so litle to helpe them in
this designe; that very few (and
they neither, not till towards the
end of their life) can be expected to
make any progresse in so high an attempt.
And therefore we may conclude,
it is impossible, by inuention
to reach the amplitude of those
mysteries which are necessary to be
knowne, to bring mankinde to Beatitude;
the doing whereof, is the
scope of that art or science which we
call Religion. Vnto which determination,
drawne out of mature considering
of the causes, no small
corroboration is added by experience,
shewing vs effectiuely how litle
mankinde had aduanced herein during
the long space of 4. or 5, thousand
yeares, that nature had continued
from the beginning of the
world, till our Sauiours coming to
teach it vs completely. For if we
looke vpon what the learned Grecians
deliuered to their Roman
Masters, att the time when the
ouergrowne wealth of Rome was
proposed vnto them to fire their
wittes to find out what Beatitude
was (which was the learnedest age,
the most abounding with great men,
and the last, in which their studies
were employed on that subiect; and
in a great measure sharpened by the
opposition of Christianity, then beginning
to grow into the world) we
shall finde that their attempts neuer
reached with any steadinesse beyond
this life. For although some of
them discoursed that the soule was
Immortall; Yet they held it rather
as a plausible opinion, then as a solide
truth whereon men should
ground their actions, and should
gouerne their liues here by it. As
your Lordship (if you be desirous
to satisfy your selfe in this particular)
may find in Lucretius, Tully,
Seneca, Epitectus, Antoninus the
Emperor, and seuerall others of
that straine; who prescribing remedies
against the feare of death,
and making exhortations to vertue
in this life; do neuer extend their
motiues to any good obtainable in
the next life. Which your Lordship
may see proued att large in Lactantius;
who purposely maketh it his
taske to do so. For of those Philosofers
who guessed furthest into the
state of the future world, none were
euer able to ftame any scantling of
the diuersity of the soules treatement
there, otherwise then by Gods arbitrary
distributing of reward, or inflicting
of punishement: which way
belongeth clearely to beliefe, and
not to science. So that, as farre as
history can informe vs, Man's nature
and witt did neuer attaine to
the first principle of well liuing;
which consisteth in considering what
condition soules be in, after they
are out of the body: so farre were
they from hauing discouered true
motiues to ballance our passions,
and to sett vs in an euen way betweene
the allurements of this world
and the hopes of the next. And this
is the good that we expect from
Religion: whose scope is to raise
and enflame the soules that are a
wake, and to rouse those that are a
sleepe in the dalliance of this world,
to the esteeme and relishing of the
happinesse they may enioy in the
next.
THE XIII. CHAPTER.
That religion hath not bin intro
duced
into the world by one
mans teaching an other. Nor
by Angels instructing of men.
But hath bin taught by God.
And that Christian Religion
is the true one.
IT can not then be expected that
Religion should be iutroduced
among men by inuention or strength
of witt. It remaineth that it
must be by discipline and by teaching.
Whereof, seeing there are diuers
kindes, or rather diuers kindes
of teachers; our next enquiry
shall be, att whose handes we are
to looke for it. Our first position
shall exclude one man's teaching
an other. For, suppose that some
one man should haue beaten out
by long study the true way of attaining
to happinesse (which neuerthelesse,
out of the former discourse
seemeth vnlikely, if not impossible)
the way for him to deriue it to
others, must be, either by demonstrating
it to them by reason, or by
winning their beliefe to it because
he assureth them of it. But, demonstration,
in a matter so high and so
difficult, can not be communicated
to many: very few being capable
of the strength of such a proofe,
in much lower and easier subiects.
It can not then be deriued to the
people by any other meanes then
by their relying vpon him that
should positiuely tell them what
they are to belieue. But vpon him,
they could not relye: for he being
but a man they can not be assured
whither what he sayth be true or false:
either, because he might be deceiued
himselfe, and so deliuer them
a falshood for a truth: Or else, because
there might be considerations
for him to propose it to them for
true, although in his owne hart
••
lie
knew or doubted it to be false: As
for example, either his owne particular
profit, or glory, might preuaile
with him to do so; or he might
deceiue them for their benefit; keeping
them by that meanes vnder
good lawes, and to an obedience that
should make them liue happily in
this world. And from the suspition
of this latter, euen the best man
that can be imagined (so he be no
more but a man) can not be free.
For, if he want power to introduce
among men that which he iudgeth
best for them; it may be doubted
that he ayme
••
h att bringing about
his designes by art and cunning; according
to the old parable, of sowing
the foxes skinne to the lyons to make
it reach. Now if all these difficulties
happen in the case of one man's
propagating to the multitude this
science of Religion, which he is supposed
to haue beaten out by his owne
industry & learning: They would
be no whitte lesse, but rather more,
when such
〈◊〉
and demonstrators
should be many. And without
their being many, it can not be conceiued
how the generality of mankinde
that is spread so wyde in place,
an of so long durance in time,
can be imbued with it. Adde to this,
the much that halfe learned men,
and halfe wittes, would obiect against
Religion proposed by such as
pretend to relye on it because they
haue demonstration for it; which
would be farre more plausible to the
vulgar of mankinde, then all that
can be said to solue those obiections;
considering the profoundenesse
and subtility that can not
chose but be in such a demonstration,
and the vngraspablenesse of
the very Nature, and Essence of a
separated soule, which is the necessary
entrance into it: So that such
men would giue ouer their inquiry
and attention, before euer they aduance
so farre as to weigh the reasons
whither or no a soule can be without
a body; because they can not
conceiue what such a soule is: And
yet this is the hinge & fundamentall
pointe of all Religion. So that it can
not be expected, that if there were no
more efficacious meanes then this
to persuade mankinde; they should
by vertue of this onely, dis-seise
their harfs from the goods of this
world (to which the course of our nature
gleweth them strongly) and
settle them vpon vnconceiuable
ones in an other world; from whence
they haue not experience of any
soule that hath come to assure them
thereof, and to informe them what
kind of inhabitants they shall become
there, when they arriue to the
possession of those goods. We may
then from this discourse conclude,
that for prudent men to receiue Religion
in the way of beliefe, they
will expect to haue it built vpon a
stronger rocke then humane credit.
The next stoppe aboue the degree
of men, is the Sphere of spirits
or of Angels. Among whom,
seeing there be good ones, and bad
ones; lett vs begin with considering
what we may expect in this case att
the handes of these latter: And lett
vs suppose them to conuerse with
men, by giuing them Oracles; as
auncient stories do record of Apollo
att Delphos, or of Iupiter Hammon
in Lybia, and the like. Can
any thing they shall declare and
reach, be a sufficient ground of beliefe?
Surely, if euer any such Oracle
were animated with its ambitious
soule (as is pretended) it is
not reasonable to expect that the
spirit of lying should alwayes speake
truth. And if he do not; one single
lye, taketh away the credit of
all the Religion that he should haue
founded. For, if he can, and sometimes
do, lye: Whence may it be
certaine that he doth not lye, when
he deliuereth such vnknowable
thinges as those which concerne the
state of the other world? And consequently,
if mankinde had no better
security then this, the greate
••
and highest designe of nature, woul
••
be loosely gimalled, and more
•••
terring
then euery meane trade. But
lett vs consider what security we
may haue from good spirits. If such
should denounce Religion to vs; it
must be either in their owne names,
that they would speake; or it must
be in Gods, as his Ambassadors. If
in their owne names, what confidence
can he to whom they speake,
haue, that they may not be aswell
of the tribe of lying spirits, as of
the blessed Angels? If he aske them,
whither there be not such deceiuing
ones, who were once their companions,
and of the same nature as
they; and are since become wicked
and malitious; they will acknowledge
there are, And then, what infallible
markes can he haue to secure
him, that these he conferreth
with, may not be such, though they
stile themselues Angels of light?
And their very speaking in their
owne names, may iustly render them
suspected: for, if they were such as
they pretend to be; that is, out of
danger of falling (as their mates
haue done) by hauing perpetuall
sight of the aeternall verity; then,
their very being such, would reasonably
make a man expect that what
they deliuer him of that verity and
of the way to arriue to it, should rather
be a message from him that
maketh them so stable and indefectible,
then an instruction proceeding
from their owne single impulse.
And after all, if he do beleeue
them to be of the happy sort, and
for that cause do giue credit to what
they say; it is in effect vpon the
score of him that enlighteneth and
strengtheneth them, that he beleeueth
them; And the speaking of
such, is rather from him, then from
themselues. We may therefore conclude,
that there neuer was, nor euer
could, or can be, any true Religion among
Gentiles or Idolaters, or amōg
any who do not professe their beliefe
hath its source from the true omnipotent
God, the selfe-verity, and the
spring-bonity. Nor can they pretend
to such certainty of rules for
bringing them to Beatitude, as experience
sheweth accompanieth the
rules of all trades and manufactures.
All these then being excluded
from all pretence to true Religion;
and all created instructors, appearing
of too meane credit to settle
it in the world; It remaineth onely
that we haue recourse to God alone
for this supreme blessing; And
that we inquire what lawes and ordinances
he hath giuen mankinde,
to gouerne and direct them vntill
the end of the world, that they may
attaine to Beatitude. And we find
no markes in story of any, that with
likelihood we may pitch vpon, besides
those tree memorable lawes
which haue succeeded one an other:
to witt, The law of Nature; the written
one; and the last, giuen by
Christ. The first of these, can not
be admitted now to any plea; the
succession of it being so interrupted,
that no body can claime the
inheritance of that faith, Nor doth
any body know the feuerall contents
and articles of it, further then
as some few of them may be supposed
to be included in the written
law; and by the succession of
them who professe the written law,
deriued in them and in Cristians to
our dayes. The Iewes can as litle
pretend that the law which God giue
them by Moses, is the religion
whereby the whole bulke of mankinde
in all ages is to be saued.
The uery nature and essence of it,
and all the maine circumstances that
accompany it, do contradict that
clayme. For it is manifestly limited
to selected persons, to a determined
time, and to a narrow place.
Nor is it a good obiection,
that some Proselytes of other nations
were allowed to be adioyned
to the seed of Abraham, in participation
of rites and sacrifices: For
such an adiunction could not reach
to whole nations; but contrariwise,
some were expressely forbidden by
name. And so, their law, was not
a law for mankind; but onely for
the family of Abraham. Besides,
God himselfe determined the land
in which it should be practised: So
as, sacrifice could not be lawfully
made, nor altars erected, in the
way of their profession, in any country
but their owne: Which conuinceth
that it was neuer intended for
the saluation of mankinde, whose
numerous progeny is dispersed ouer
the face of the whole earth. And
it is cleare that their Messias was
promised them att the end of the
raigne of Dauids house, and before
their dispersion into the whole
world: both which can not be denyed
to haue bin long since performed:
And consequently, it was a
temporary Religion, and not designed
to last till the worlds end; which
is a necessary propriety of that Religion,
whereby all nations (that
is, all mankinde) in all ages, are
to obtaine Beatitude. It remaineth
then, that Christian Religion must
necessarily be the law that God hath
designed for the saluation of all
men, att all times, and in all places.
Yet because Mahomet pretendeth
as well as Christians, that his
law is deriued from God; it will
not be amisse to examine his clayme
in a word or two. First, there is
a great disparity betweene the Christians
and the Turkes law, in this;
that Mahomet pretendeth not to be
himselfe God, as Christ doth; Nor
that he had his law immediately from
God; but that it was sent him by
an Angell. Next, he alloweth Christ
to haue bin a Prophet; and yet taxeth
him of lying for hauing giuen
himselfe out to be God. By doing
which, he maketh his owne doctrine
rely but vpon a fallible authority.
For since he obiecteth lying to
Christ, whom he alloweth to be a
Prophett: What security can one
haue, that he who pretendeth not
to be more, lyeth not as well as he?
Againe; Christians pretend a publicity
of infinite miracles done by
Christ, attesting his God-head and
the truth of his doctrine: Mahomet
and his sectators, none; or att
least, such as by their owne confession
are but obscure ones. Lastly;
the abominations of Mahomets law,
against both reason and nature; and
a totall submitting of the soule by
it to bodily obiects; do euidently
conuince, that the obseruing it is
not a promoting and perfecting of
Nature towardes the great end of
Beatitude, deduced in some of the
former chapters; but a strong and
maine alienation from it: and consequently,
a peruersion of humane
nature, and a carrying of mankinde
to eternall disgustes, miseries,
and torments.
THE XIV. CHAPTER.
How Christes doctrine hath bin
conueyed purely and entirely
to succeeding ages. That puri
tanes
and Protestants can not
lay clayme vnto it.
IT is then onely the law of Christ,
that can pretend with reason to
the glorious title of a doctrine,
able to bring a man securely to his
desired hapinesse. Let vs then examine
in the next place, if all they
who giue themselues out to be
Christians, do deserue that name,
and in reallity and effect be such.
No man will doubt, were he Iew on
infidell, but that if Christ were God
(as Christians do professe and belieue)
he was both able and willing
to deliuer vnto his flocke the
truth so necessary for them. Which
once granted, it presently appeareth,
that Photinians, Arrians
and all such pretended Christians
as denyed Christ's being true God,
had no Religion; they bringing downe
the certainty of faith, to an authority
vnder God; that is, to a
fallible one, as I haue already shewed;
and consequently, subiect to
falsity; and therefore not to be relyed
vpon. For, Christ spoke not
an others dictates, as Moses did;
nor in his difficulties, had recourse
to God, as to his lord or Master:
but spoke as a master, and wrought
as a Lord; as one, from, and of,
himselfe: and who when he prayed
to his father, did it for our example,
not for his owne necessity; addressing
himselfe vnto him, by the
••
ame of father, not of master.
But setting a side all such blasphemours,
as persons no wayes considerable;
lett vs looke backe vpon
the maxime we haue formerly sett
downe; to witt, That he who li
••
eth
not well, that is, who doth
〈◊〉
actually treade in the way which
••
eadeth to Beatitude, shall not be
happy; how excusable soeuer he be
for not knowing the way or law:
And then we shall straight discouer,
that it is not sufficient for any man
to say, he hath Christ's doctrine, and
is willing to follow it; vnlesse he be
certainly assured that he haue it.
Nor can he be sure that he hath it,
vnlesse he haue some infallible
meanes whereby to discerne it from
false and pretended doctrines. This
infallible meanes, can be none other,
but the infallibility of the authority
and conueyance, by which this
doctrine cometh to him. If Christ,
whom he beleeueth to be God, did
speake himselfe immediatly to him;
he would require no more: But seeing
he is departed many ages since, from
conuersing with mankinde; we must
inquire what infallible conueyance
of his doctrine to vs, we may rely
vpon. It is cleare, there can be
but two wayes to performe that
worke; the one, by writing; the
other, by being handed downe from
generation to generation; by the
mouths of them who first and immediately
receiued it from Christ,
and taught it to those that they conuersed
with; who againe preached
it all ouer the world; and they who
learned it of them, taught it att
their turne to those who succeeded
them; and so from generation to
generation, and from age to age,
is come downe to our present age.
The vniuersality which (euen in the
very beginning, and whiles the doctrine
was fresh in their memories
that had it from its source) requiring
a great time to the forgetting
and extetminating of it euery whe
••
e,
it may be conceiued to haue
••
in conserued pure and entire all
this while, in some great part of
the world. Third way, there is none:
vnlesse peraduenture we make a
subdiuision of writinges; distingui
••
ing
betveene such as came from
••
he pennes of those teachers who
••
eceiued what they write, immedia
••
ly
from Christ; and whose wordes
〈◊〉
authenticall and law
••
And such
other writinges, as being composed
by authors in succeeding age
••
,
do informe vs what the Church hath
held in all times. This sort of writers,
may seeme to partake of both
wayes: Of the first, as being writers:
And of the second, as farre forth
as they are in a manner a part of
the handes through which Christe's
doctrine hath bin conueyed vnto vs.
These two wayes may seeme to haue
bin shared betweene the french
Caluinistes (among vs, called Puritans
or Presbyterians) and the English
Protestantes or common prayer
men: But in reality, they haue
them not. For, the Puritane, as
soone as he hath highly and peremptorily
pronounced, that nothing
but scripture must be Iudge of Religion;
and that the word of God,
pure and alone, must gouerne; he
presently maketh you a Catalogue of
articles, which you must hold, if you
will not be excommunicated and
cost out of his Church. And howeuer
he may pretend that he de
••
iueth
these articles out of scripture:
yet, the wordes of them not being
in the Scripture, he can not deny
but that they are his owne collections
and interpretations: So that if
he misse in interpreting Gods written
word; the sense, aswell as the
wordes, will be his, and not the
Scriptures. Now the Protestant;
seeing the vnreasonablenesse of this
proceeding, that a particular man
or company should oblige all men
to receiue his interpretation of
Scripture; thinketh to take a more
plausible course, by pretending to
explicate Scripture by the fathers;
especially, by the fathe
••
s of the primitiue
ages. But this seemeth to me
more irrationall then the puritanes
proceeding. For, first, he goeth against
his owne principle, by appealing
to the fathers after hauing pr
••
tested
against all humane authority,
〈◊〉
fallible. Secondly, he maketh
himselfe iudge which of the fathers
••
re to be receiued; and when; and
••
hat of them to be reiected; and
how to be vnderstood: And so draweth
the question, from the sole
booke of Scripture, to the infinite
volumes of fathers. And lastly; that
he may serue himselfe of the fathers
manner of expressions, iointly with
his owne conceits and opinions;
(so to boulster out his fancyes
with the semblance of their authority)
he confoundeth his owne language
with their manner of speaking;
and neither vnderstandeth
himselfe, nor (much lesse) can
make an other man vnderstand what
he sayth. Like those commentors
of Aristotle and S. Thomas; who not
being bold enough to deny their authority,
which hath taken so deepe
rootes in all the schooles of Christendome;
do render their doctrine,
and themselues, vnintelligible, by
their wrested and confused interpretations.
Yet I deny not, but that a
right Protestant, is in many pointes
neerer truth then the Presbyterian
••
For, his reading of the fathers, and
his allowing them some kind of estimation;
can not choose but worke
some good effect in his minde. But
that which I complaine of him for,
is, that the rule he pretendeth,
(as he vseth it) is more intricate
then the Presbyterians; and his discourse,
is more ambigous and confused,
by his counterfeiting to hold
with the fathers, when in truth he
renounceth them.
THE XV. CHAPTER.
A further consideration, of the
insufficiency and vnreasona
blenesse,
of the late Protes
tants
proceeding, in
point of Religion.
TRVLY it seemeth to me so
euident, that neither of these
haue any rule of Christianity; as I
haue oftentimes wondered when I
haue heard some men (in other
thinges, appearing to be prudent)
say in earnest that they beleeue they
haue one, and grow warme in their
maintaining so much. For, there
being but two channels whereby
Christes doctrine can descend to vs;
writting; and deliuering from hand
to hand; How can they pretend to
Christianity, who accept of neither
of these? As for tradition by handes;
they clearely defy it. And as for
Scripture; If they take that for their
rule, why do they binde men to opinions
that can not be decided out
of Scripture, but remaine still disputable
after all is said that can be
vrged from thence? Well may they,
in pursuance of their owne rule quarrell
att such as shall deny any
point that is cleare and euident in
Scripture: But to anathematise, and
punish (when they haue the power)
those that produce out of Scripture
as faire proofes for their opinions, as
any thing they are able to bring against
them; seemeth to me a great
iniustice. Certainly, nothing can be
more-euident, then, that in all the
points which haue bin disputed, out
of Scripture alone, betweene Catholikes
and them, now almost an
100. yeares; the textes produced by
them, haue not att all inclined the
ballance on their side; but rather
(if I may'be allowed to giue my verdict,
in a case where I am in
••
ere
••
ed)
it hath weighed notably on our side.
And therefore, lett them pretend
what they will; it is cleare, that
Scripture is not their rule. As for
the Protestantes pretending to the
authority of the fathers in interpreting
Scripture, the case is yet
more cleare, if more may be. For,
they sticke not to say vpon euery
occasion, that the fathers erred; and
that they might erre, both in common
and in particular. So that,
theirs is but like a cobwebbe lawne
lining: (of no substance or solidity)
to the Nettelike cloke, wherewith
the Presbyterians do endeauour to
hide their foule play, when they recede
from the rule which themselues
propose; and is looked through
att the first casting of ones eyes vpon
it: And in this regard, both their
cases are the very same. And to
speake plainely; the rule common
to both these, and to all others,
who proposing Scripture for their
rule, do afterwardes prefixe particular
opinions to their Church; neither
is, nor can be any other, then a
heady pride and wilfulnesse, to
bind all other men to their, not
knowledge, but guessing. Now if
such guessing, can be iudged a sufficient
meanes, for themselues and
others, to be assured of those thinges,
without the doing whereof
mankinde must be eternally miserable;
these men may pretend to
Christianity: But for my part, I
can entertaine but a very meane estime
of it. I know,
••
euerall of them
are held for learned men: And
that, not onely in their owne opinions,
but by many others besides:
How iustly they deserue that title,
will appeare if we consider, what
true learning and knowledge in
any science, is. I take it, to be an assurance
of the nature of the thinges
that are treated of in that science.
Such, Mathematicians haue in
their profession; such, the masters
of all the artes that belong to mans
life. Such, Philosophers haue, (or
should pretend to haue; though some,
vnworthy the name of Philosophers,
do content themselues with
probable opinions) and much more,
deuines ought to haue such assurāce
of what concerneth their profession;
seeing, that any mistake therein,
exposeth men to eternall ruine and
misery. Now the learning of these
men that would passe for so great
deuines, wherein doth it consist?
They pretend to no other, then to
know that hath bin said by others.
Which others, are God and men;
to witt, what hath bin sayd by God
in Scripture, and by men in their
bookes. If they rightly vnderstood
all this, they might with reason ha
••
e
a good conceipt of themselues.
But let vs examine how they behaue
themselues, in their proceeding with
both these. As for Scriptures, I haue
already touched how their penetrating
into the sense of them, is
but a meere guessing: Yet were it
something, if they could make it
appeare that they guesse fairely. I
will allow them so much, if they can
shew how any of their deuines in
any one question, hath faithfully
paralleled the places of Scripture
vsed to be brought on each side; and
hath fairely compared and weighed
them in the ballance, one against
the other, and hath giuen each of
them their full weight; and then
hath pronounced an orderly sentence,
in this sort; that by reason of plurality
of places, propriety of wordes,
efficacity of texts, and the like, the
aduantage falleth to this side, rather
then to that. If they should pretend
they are able to do this (which
I am sure they neuer haue as yet performed)
I would entreate them to
shew me a learned logike of wordes,
out of which they had extracted the
rules whereby the sense of wordes
may be pondered; and whereby one
may be certaine when their sense is
demonstratiuely knowne, and when
but probably; and by what weights,
one probability appeareth greater
then an other; And after all this
paines, I would tell them (and they
can not deny it) that as long as
both senses are probable, the lesse
probable may peraduenture be the
true one: And so, all their labour
is lost. But lett vs examine, if their
learning be any greater in humane
writers. The depth of it is, to boggle
att any darke place of History,
or of fathers; and by it, persuade
such men as are not conuersant in
antiquity, to frame a iudgement
coutrary to the publicke practise of
the Church of those ages. As for
example; what can be more publicke
and notorious, then the succession
and authority of Bishops; then the
being of Monkes and Nunnes; then
the principality of the Bishop of
Rome; then the practise of the Masse,
Sacrements, and ceremonies;
then the custome of praying for the
dead; then the vse of Crosses and of
pictures? And euen for all these,
they make it their labour (and for
which they pretend the title of subtile
and deepe schollers) to persuade
you, out of some not fully declared
sentence of a father, speaking
vpon the by, that there were
no such thinges as these in antiquity.
Yet had our contryman more
sincerity then this; who in his
translation of S. Augustines confessions,
professeth plainely, that he had
left out many thinges, because S. Augustine
had erred in them. So the Centurists,
and Luther, and Caluin, and all
Nouellists, whiles there remained any
ingenuity among them, confessed
that the opinions which they reiected,
were auncient errors of the fathers.
But now, all their learning
consisteth in belying of antiquity,
and in pinning a false maske vpon
the venerable face of it. How then
can men deserue the name of learned,
who take not the course to
know any thing att all? Neuerthelesse,
they must passe for great deuines;
when peraduenture they are all
together ignorant, what diuinity is.
Diuinity signifyeth a science, that
followeth out of faith or out of the
discipline of saluation; in such sort as
Euclides Elements do follow out of
the definitious and axiomes, which he
hath prefixed as groundes for his
bookes, and that he hath supposed
before them. In like manner, faith
must be supposed to diuinity. But in
s
••
eed of doing so, these men who
terme themselues deuines, do spend
all their paines and employe all
their schollership, in opposing the
receiued tenets of faith. So that
they are such eminent deuines, as
he would be a Geometrician, who
in steed of studying throughly Euclides
Elements, should neuer goe
beyond the first leafe; but should
busy himselfe many yeares, and
write great volumes, to proue that
his definitions are ill contriued, and
that this axiomes are false. And yet
must such seely aequiuocation, so
pusse them vp, and persuade their
followers they are so great Clerkes,
that all Antiquity, all the latter
and present ages, and common
sense it selfe, must be deserted to
adhere to these learned Masters.
Whereas those who are truly deuines,
are beyond common Christians,
and do begin their science
and employment att the height of
those notions which belong to common
Christians: Whiles these, whom
the Protes
••
ants terme deuines, do
neuer attaine to the knowledge
that the simplest Christians are imbued
with, by relying vpon tradition
and vpon the authority of the
Church. But enough of this: since
it seemeth that God himselfe hath
taken it to his taske to ruine them
wheresoeuer they appeared to haue
power.
THE XVI. CHAPTER.
The Socinians and the Indepen
dents,
excluded from ha
uing
the true doctrine of
Christ.
THESE two, being reiected
from holding the rule of Scripture;
(whatsoeuer they may pretend:)
there remaine yet two other
families who lay clayme to that rule;
namely, the Independents, and
the Socinians. Their difference, I
take to be this: That the Independent
acknowledgeth the booke we
call the Bible, to be truly the word
of God; and accordingly, maketh
it his precise study to know what is
sayd in this booke. All that no lest findeth
there, he holdeth for most certaine
and holy. He bindeth others
no further, then to acknowledge the
letter; and to draw the best meaning
out of it, that of themselues
they are able. He accompteth all who
do so, to be of his religion and communion,
if they agree thereunto.
If they will not communicate with
him, he presseth them not: but if
they will, he refuseth them not. The
Socinian his difference from the Independent,
I take to be this: That
he iudgeth the Bible to be the wisest
and most authenticall booke
that euer was written; such a one,
as no other humane writting can
contest with it; yet not such a one,
as no
••
ippe or error might fall into
it; euen in matters of importance,
and concerning our saluation: And
therefore, that where reason is absolutely
against it, he may seaue it;
though for ciuility sake, he will rather
choose to putt a wrong glosse
vpon it, then plainely refuse it. Further,
he thinketh it not fitting to
no lest anyman, who beareth the like
respect to Scripture, and proceedeth
modestly in his actions. Now it
is cleare, that both of these do sticke
to the rule that they propose to
themselues, for attaining the science
of Beatitude: And therefore their
deficiency, is such as humane nature
is lyable vnto; It being incident
to all men, to faile in their discourse,
when it is long. Whereas Protestants
and Puritans do in the same
breath contradict themselues, and
renounce the Principle which they
lay for the first foundation of their
receding from that Church they were
borne in, and of their erecting a
new one. This proceeding, no man
can excuse from barbarous impudence,
and irrationality; or admitt
them among the pretenders to religion,
vpon the score of Scripture;
which att euery turne, they change
into their owne fancy. But as I can
not but prayse the other two for
going consequently, and for sticking
to their rule and principle; and
so esteeme them to be rationall men
and such as deserue to be discoursed
with: So withall, I can not allow
that they haue (properly speaking) a
religion among them, or such a rule
as they may securely rely vpon for the
saluation of their soules: Especially
the Socinian; according to the explication
that I haue here made of
his tenets: which whither it agree, or
not, to all those who passe vnder the
name of Socinians, I dispute not; as
not leuelling my arguments against
Persons but against opinions. Against
these then that I haue related, I thus
frame my oppositiō. If it be true (as I haue
already declared) that ignorance
of the way to Beatitude, will hinder v
••
from euer arriuing to it; And that it
importeth not, whither it be by our
owne default, or no, that we are ignorāt
of it; (for be it vpon what score you
will; and be wee as inculpable as you
will suppose; still, the missing of
the way, will bring vs to a wrong periode
and end of our iorney; where
we shall be plunged in infinite and
eternall miseries:) It followeth that
it concerneth vs mainely, to prouide
that we haue more security in
this point, then in any other art or
trade whatsoeuer that belongeth to
our well being in this life. Now whither
the Socinian haue such security
or no, in the rule he relyeth vpon
to bring him to Beatitude, is that
which we are to examine. It can not
be pretended that Scripture is his
rule: for, seeing he supposeth Scripture
to be fallible, and that vpon all
occasions he correcteth it by his discourse;
it is not Scripture, but his
discourse, and his reasoning, that
is his true and supreme rule: which
is the cause that they, or some of
their party, did denominate themselues
Sanarations, from right reason.
Now, seeing that his discourse,
is not confirmed by sensible and
reall effects abetting it; (as for
example, by miracles, wrought to
take away all doubts or scrupules
against it; or by the returne of soules
from the other world, to assure vs
by their experience that we may safely
rely vpon such a rule, as hauing
brought them to Beatitude)
It can not be denyed, but that it
hath no other strength, then that
which it comprehendeth within it selfe
& carrieth in its owne bowels. And
this strength, ought, to be no lesse
then certainty and vnanswerablenesse,
if he intend that it shall settle
all doubts and quiett all scruples
in this affaire; where it importeth
euery man to be cautious, inquisiti
••
e,
doubtfull, and scrupulous to
the vtmost. For if his discourse be
any degree vnder certaine, it is but
probable: And euery point that is
but probable, the contrary of it may
peraduenture be true: And consequently,
all bare probable pointes,
are either false, or el
••
e not knowne
to be true; which is no better then
false, to a man that can not be satisfyed
with lesse then an infallible rule
to rely on. And therefore, the Socinian
can not satisfy a reasonable
man, nor doth he giue a good account
of himselfe, vnlesse he professe
to demonstrate his assertions.
And not onely those assertions, wherein
he contradicteth Scripture;
but also those, wherein he agreeth
with it. For, seeing that
Script
••
re hath with him no further
authority, then of being probable;
all that he gathereth there, can haue
no more
••
force then of being likewise
probable; and consequently, to
make it infallible, he must support
and Corroborate it with a demonstration.
But what I haue already
sayd about demonstration in this
subiect, will coole our hopes in expecting
any att the Socinians handes:
Neither do they (as farre as I ha
••
e
vnderstood) pretend there vnto.
There remaineth then, onely the Independents
rule of attaining to Beatitude,
to be discussed. Whose proceeding
is certainely more allo
••
ble,
more iudicious, and more pious,
then all the others that we haue
hitherto looked vpon. For, he resolueth
his beliefe and groundeth
••
his actions, wholy vpon him that
can neither be deceiued himselfe,
nor deceiue others. In this matter,
he is not content with any lesse
authority
••
then Gods wor
••
What he
findeth not in Scripture, belongeth
not to his Creede. Infine, he giueth
Scripture its true valew; and
he sticketh firmely to it, as his rule.
But if all this may not suffice,
vnlesse he haue security of his
tenets out of Scripture; I doubt he
will haue a hard taske to proue them
sufficient for saluation. For, omitting
that he must be assured of the
texts of Scripture which he maketh
vse of; that those very wordes which
belong to his purpose, are in the
originall, that the translation he
readeth, is not discrepant from the
originall, in as much as concerneth
his text (both which are impossible
to be knowne by ordinary Sti
••
klers
in controuersie) I am persuaded
it is much harder to demonstrate
out of wordes the way to Beatitude,
then out of naturall principles;
if not wholy impossible. Th
••
which, though I will not here dispute,
(it being largely handled b
••
others; and particulary by Maist
••
Rushwor
••
in his second Dialogue
yet I will craue leaue to represent
vnto your Lordship how the preiudice
of continuall experience, for
now att the least 1600. years, is
strong against the Independents vndertaking.
We know well, how
during all this tract of time, there
hath still bin great disputing out
of Scripture against sundry most important
propositions; diuers of them
directly impugning our Sauiour
him
••
elfe and his dignity and Godhead;
for the settling whereof in
mens beliefes, it appeareth that a
great part of the Scripture was written:
And yet peraduenture, neuer
a one of them was euer conuinced
and beaten downe by Scripture, or
by any other meanes then by Tradition
and by the title of possession
of the contrary Doctrine. And shall
not the consideration of this successe
after so many attempts, make vs
very doubtfull and a fraid, that
nothing can be conuinced out of
••
ole Scripture? I haue heard some,
••
ho haue employed their studies to
be exact in the controuersy about
Scriptures being the rule of faith,
challenge others that haue pretended
to haue greatest skill and insight
in Scripture, to conuince out of
it alone that there was but one God
(a point wherein all Christians agree)
and t
••
ey could neuer receiue satisfaction
in it. The Ecclesiasticall stories
informe vs, how the Arrians
defended their denying of our Sauiours
d
••
uinity, by pregnant texts of
Scripture; and could not be conuinced,
otherwise then by Tradition:
And how it fared in like manner
with sundry others. The very
nature of wordes; so subiect to diuerses
senses and vnderstandinges:
The length of the Bible; whereby all
sortes of metaphores and improper
manners of speaking do occurre in
it: And th
••
reiterating of the same
speech, diuersly, in diuers occasions:
Do render it mainely suspitious,
that it is impossible to make
a demonstration for proofe and
explication of the true meaning of
any passage in it, which great wittes
haue engaged themselues in explicating
a contrary way. And therefore,
before a man can rationally
rely vpon Scripture for a sufficient
rule to bring him to Beatitude;
he must be satisfyed and conuinced,
that there is a meanes, whereby
he may certainely know what
is the sense of Scripture; and how
he may compasse this meanes. For
otherwise; all that he draweth our
of Scripture, is vncertaine; And
no lesse vncertaine it is, whither
what he hath drawne, be enough;
or whither more be not necessary:
And in a word, he remaineth
on all handes in perpetuall inc
••
titude.
THE XVII. CHAPTER.
That Tradition is the onely mea
nes
of conueying Christes
doctrine to succeeding
ages.
OF the two wayes of conueying
Christes doctrine to Mankinde
in all ages (the first of which,
is by writing; and that
••
e haue
bin hitherto reflecting vpon) there
remaineth onely the latter (which
is by handing it from one to an
other) to be considered. A doctrine
so conueyed, implying thereby that
it hath beene in all ages; that is
to say, in the vniuersality of time;
belongeth onely to Catholikes,
to lay clayme vnto it; and onely
they who do so, may properly be
stiled Catholikes. Neither can it
be obiected, that the Greekes may
pretend it in such pointes of faith
as they differ in from those that
liue in communion with the Roman
See. Well may they, in matters
of custome: But these are of such
a nature, as they may haue bin different
in seuerall places, euen att
the very origine of them; without
any inconueniency att all: And
consequently, in different places,
there may haue continued different
practises, cuer since the Apostles
time. But lett vs examine more
particularly what aduantages or prerogatiues,
this way of transmitting
Christe's doctrine from hand to hand
vntill our dayes, hath ouer the retriuing
it in Scripture. First, we
shall find that it hath the prerogatiue
of Possession; All aduersaries
hauing found the Catholike
Church (out of which they broke)
in a quiett credulity that her doctrine
was so descended from the
Apostles. Next, it hath the prerogatiue
of all the approbation and
commendation that our fathers
could giue it; by themselues, by
their lawes, by their rewardes and
punishements, and by whatsoeuer
else they could inuent for the continuation
of it. It hath a high straine
of testification, aboue all that is
to be found in our titles to land,
inheritances, legacies, bargaines,
and all other morall transactions
and concernements whatsoeuer. It
hath the testimony of all our aduersaries,
to haue continued for a
thousand yeares, euen in those pointes
wherein they dissent from vs:
but in all others wherein they agree
with vs, they allow our continuance
from the very origine of Christianity.
So as it can not be doubted,
euen by our Aduersaries confession,
but that this way is capable of bringing
downe truths vnto us vncorrupted.
But aboue all, it hath the
euidence or its fidelity in conueying
to posterity the doctrine of Saluation,
by the connexion of one age
to an other, Out of this maxime:
That it is impossible, all fathers through
out the whole world, should conspir
••
to deceiue their Children, in so important
an affaire. For, this Maxime
doth so connect the knowledge
of euery century, to what was
knowne in the century immediately
preceding it; that it is impossible
for any error to creepe in betweene
them. And the maxime it selfe;
is as euident as any that belongeth
to Mathematikes: And so much
more cleare then any of those, as
perpetuall dayly practise; beateth
vs into the knowledge and continuall
view of it. For, as no man
could doubt but that the braines of
that person were crased, who conuersing
with marchants vpon the
Exchange in London, and hearing
them speake dayly of Paris, and
of moneyes they remitt hither,
and of letters they receiue from
thence; Should neuerthelesse thinke
confidently there were no such towne
as Paris, because he was neuer
there himselfe: So, much more,
••
ould he be held for a mad man,
that liuing in England, and conuersing
with all forces of people, reading
their bookes of all kindes,
hearing their sermons, considering
their lawes and the change of some
particular ones in matter of Religion,
and innumerable other particulars,
which speake manifestly how
Catholike Religion had course in
England before Henry the VIII.
changed it; should neuerthelesse
deny it, because he liued not in the
time when that Religion was publikely
professed. For in this case, the
number of wittnesses is farre greater
then in the other. Now, when a motiue
of humane prudence is so preualent
a one, as to brand him with want of
common sense, who shoud not assent
to what it induceth; It is a manifest
signe of a conquering & axiomaticall
euidence in the proposition that
he should so deny. And consequently
by this discourse, (applying it to
euery age since Christ's planting of
his Church) the descent of Christian
or Catholike Religion from Christ
is as euident as any Geometrical
demonstration whatsoeuer.
One great prerogatiue more, I
must not omitt, that Tradition hath
aboue Scripture: which is, that
Scripture is deliuered in precise and
determinate wordes; whose sense,
is not vnderstood: But Tradition, is
deliuered in almost as many seuerall
expressions, as there be seuerall persons
that deliuer it. So that, in Tradition,
the sense is constant, though
the wordes be vncertaine: Whereas
in a truth deliuered by writting;
though the wordes be agreed vpon,
yet the meaning of them is disputed
of. And therefore, seeing it is
the meaning that we are to gouerne
our actions by; and, that wordes;
without meaning, are of no weight;
••
t is euident, that Tradition is a rule,
And that Scripture is none.
But why do I troble your Lordship
with such scrupulous balancing
of these rules one against the other;
since by my discourse in excluding
••
ll former pretended rules, it ap
••
eareth
euidently, that if Tradition
••
e not the light which God hath
hung out to his Church, whereby to
know true doctrine from false; when
he sent his Apostles to preach, and
promised he would be with them
(that is, with their preaching, or with
their successours in preaching) vntill
the end of the world: We may
truly conclude, there is no light or
certainty to guide his Church by.
Which is as much to say, as; that
when he had built the world for men;
and had fitted them with all thinges,
requisite for their naturall and
ciuill life in this world; he failed
and mistooke in the maine and chief
end for which he had contriued all
the rest.
THE XVIII. CHAPTER.
Against the opinion of some deui
nes
that place Tradition in the
consent of fathers that haue
written in their seuerall ages:
and against some other opi
nions
of particular deuines. As
also against Naturalists and
Socinians.
I am not ignorant, that among vs,
there are some deuines, who as
they acknowledge Tradition to be
the rule of faith (for without doing
so, they could not be stiled Catholikes)
so, they place Tradition in
the consent or fathers through all
ages. But I conceiue I shall not
wrong them, if I say that in doing
thus they consider onely themselues,
and not the Church; which is composed
of all sortes and of all degrees,
of persons; simple and wise; learned
and vnlearned. For no man is so
weake, as not to see, that it were a
wilder arrant, to send the commonalty
of Christians, to the multitude
of Fathers for their faith; then
to remitt them to the Scriptures. It
can not be doubted, but that the
rule of faith, must be somewhat within
the peoples kenning. All sortes
of persons are capable of discerning
whither, or no, they are in the publike
communion of those who professe
they haue receiued their doctrine by
a continued sequele of teachers succeeding
one an other: But, for studying
of fathers, or Scripture; the
vniuersality of mankinde, wanted
for the most part capacity, talents,
and leisure. And no small difficulty
will be added to this taske, by our
aduersaries endeauouring all they
can, to cast a mist before mens eyes
and to obscure what of it selfe is mo
••
cleare. I take therefore the conse
••
of fathers, to be a confirmation an
••
a testimony to learned men, of th
••
Tradition that is deliuered by handes:
but not to be the substance of
Tradition: which of its nature might
haue bin (if so God had pleased)
and would haue maintained its vnshaken
& inuincible force, though
there had bin neither writinges of
fathers, nor Scripture.
Others, seeme to thinke, that
some points of faith are knowne by
Tradition (or, as they call it by the
vnwritten word) to witt, those whereof
they find not sufficient proofe
in Scripture: but that for the maine
ones, we are to haue recourse to
Scripture. Now for these, I admire
att the loosenesse of their discourse;
when they allow Tradition to giue
assurance of those pointes which are
the outmost, and which can not be
knowne without the former; and
yet will not haue the former to be
knowne by the same Tradition. And
therefore I imagine it is but a mistake
in their deliuering themselues;
and that their meaning is, that
all pointes are knowne by Tradition
••
but some, not onely by tradition,
but by Scripture too. And it is euident,
that all they who referre vnto
Tradition, the knowing that Scripture
is the word of God, and that
this booke is the Canon of Scripture;
must needes relate all certainty
of faith, to Tradition; euen
of what they thinke they demonstrate
out of Scripture.
Other deuines there be, who
adde to Tradition, some power of
reuealing new verities to the
Church. But euen they themselues
do confesse that the knowing that
there is such a power, must rely finally
vpon Tradition. And then,
seeing it is a point not fully resolued
of among our selues; I conceiue it
is not fitt to presse it vpon those who
haue yet reluctance in digesting so
much as is resolued of, and is euidently
true.
The reason why I haue mentioned
these opinions of some particular
deuines; is, because I desire that
your Lordship should see that the
way wherein we walke, is not onely a
plaine and a smooth one; but an
easy one to be found out: which it
would not appeare vnto you to be, if
you should be obliged to what these
men would impose. By my exceptions
against which, as well as out of
what I haue formerly established;
I conceiue I may safely conclude,
That all Catholikes, do take Tra
••
ition,
for the last rule, into which the
certainty of all particular articles of
faith, is to be resolued.
Now, were my taske performed; &
Tradition sett in the throne of commanding
Christian beliefe: Did not
the Naturalist and the Socinian, with
iointe forces, endeauour to possesse
Reason, of that chaire: Alleaging,
how Reason is the nature of man; the
sole power in him, that can giue consent
to any thing proposed vnto him;
And therefore, in spight of all I haue
said, must be Queene and commanderesse
both of his beliefe and of
his actions. But when they obiect
this to me, they do not consider, how
I haue beene all this while labouring
to do in effect that which they
require. For, what hath all my discourse
leuelled att, but to shew,
that reason obligeth vs to ground
our beliefe vpon Tradition? So
that I professe Tradition hath no
force to command beliefe, vnlesse
Reason tell vs so much; and as it
were deliuer vs vp to Tradition. Reason
telleth vs, it is fitt to belieue
a knowing teacher or directour, in
a matter wherein ones selfe is ignorant.
She telleth vs, that she herselfe
hath not principles and meanes,
without beleeuing some teacher,
to giue vs certaine information
of the state of our soule in the
next world, and of the wayes in
this whereby Beatitude is to be obtained.
She telleth vs, that Tradition
hath deriued this knowledge
from a Master who was well assured
of it; and that she containeth within
her selfe, a strength of infallibility,
to reach vs without mistake
what she learned of him. And So;
Reason concludeth, that we must barken
to Tradition, and follow that
rule. Else she renounceth vs, and
protesteth we goe against her sentiments;
that is, we do vnreasonably.
Will not this satisfy any
man that professeth to follow the
conduct of Reason? Yet I will say
more: Lett either Naturalist, or Socinian,
produce true Reason (that
is, demonstration) against any thing
that is attested by Tradition; and I
will graunt him, we ought to leaue
Tradition and follow reason.
But, if reason could do that, i
••
would not assert and maintaine the
Infallibility of Tradition. It is not
therefore true reason, but defectiue
and Topicall essayes, and flashes
of witt, which these men produce,
and vpon which they rely: that is,
vpon a broken reede; whose splinters
(as the Scripture telleth vs)
will gore them that leane vpon it.
Yet is it not my intention, by
this discourse to persuade your Lordship
that it is impossible, since the
mysteries of Christian faith haue
been reuealed, to reach by the helpe
of faith vnto the demonstration
of reuealed truths; so as, nature be
first duely vnderstood. I know, the
wordes in which our faith is deliuered,
ought to be explicated by
naturall definitions. I am sure, that
by the knowledge we haue of God
by naturall sciences (as, that he is
a spirit; that he is immutable; and the
like) we come to know, that many
wordes and expressions deliuered of
him in Scripture, are to be vnderstood
as spoken Metaphorically:
And the like of angels, and all
spirituall substances. I know that
Man's freewill, is a naturall thing;
and that by Philosophy and Looking
into our selues, we may come to
vnderstand what it is; and that out
of the right or wrong explication of
it, great and noble truths may be
discouered; and, as great and foule
errors incurred. I know, that termes,
once rightly vnderstood, must of necessity
haue connexion among
themselues; and that we do not loose
our vnderstanding, as soone as we
apply it to faith; And therefore, may
make legitimate consequences out
of faith and naturall principles ioyned
together. I know, the doing of
this, is expected from Deuines; is
commended to them by S. Paul; the
example of it is giuen them by the
fathers; is professed by the Princes
of our schoolemen; and, that consequently,
there can not be a greater
irrationality, then for a Diuine
to say there can be no demonstration
in Diuinity. Which were, in
effect, to stile himselfe a professour
of Diuinity; and att the same time
to professe there is no such science
as Diuinity. For, whatsoeuer is
deliuered as Diuinity, and is neither
demonstration, nor the way to
it; is, not onely idle garrulity; but
profane and temerarious contamination
of our holy Christian faith.
But my Lord, I perceiue my weake
boate is sliding apace, before I am
aware, into a sea too rough and too
dangerous for me to steere a steady
course in. It is time for me to take
in my sailes, and to lett fall an anchor.
I pretend not to learning:
much lesse to be knowing in Diuinity.
The various courses in the world
that my seuerall employments and
fortunes haue cast me vpon, haue
not allowed me time nor meanes to
store my minde as I would with
knowledge and solide litterature. If
I haue acquired any thinne sprinkling
in any of the partes of naturall
learning, I owe it to my misfortunes,
and to the reuolutions of
my country causing them; that haue
condemned me to such a manner
of liuing, as if I should not conuerse
with bookes, and employ my time
in some study, it would become
burthen some and in supportable
to me. And then, since my study is
chiefly for my entertainement; you
may easily conceiue that my application
of it, hath bin vpon such subiects
as I haue beene most willing to
be informed of. To see whither
the Immortality of the soule may
be demonstrated by reason, or no,
hath bin a maine one among them:
And then, hauing found satisfaction
therein; and by following of
my principles, hauing discouered a
new world in that region where she
liueth, when the body is dead; and
meeting there such amazing considerations
of weale or woe, resulting
out of the guidance of ones life and
actions in this world, as would rouse
the sleepiest person aliue to be very
solicitous what course he taketh here;
I do not deny, but that it hath
made me more inquisitiue, then peraduenture,
I should otherwise haue
bin, into what rule and guide may
secure a man in his iorney thither.
For without such liuely stirrers vp,
it is not vnlikely but that I might
haue contented my selfe with walking
dully and implicitely in the
way that my birth and education had
sett me in. Thus, My lord, I haue
gleaned so much of Philosophy, and
haue cast an eye so farre into Diuinity,
as I haue iudged necessary for
my owne priuate vse. In these few
sheetes, you haue an essay of the litle
I know in either. If it may proue
as vsefull to you, as I conceiue it
hath done to me; I were much too
blame, if I did not impart it to you,
vnto whom I haue long since giuen
an equall share and power with my
selfe, in all that is mine. For besides
your excellent partes in all kindes,
(as well the more gentle and the
winning ones, as the strong ones)
that make you highly esteemed and
honored by all those who know you;
your particular kindenesse and
frendship to me, requireth a particular
returne of affection from me. I
can not expresse it better, then by
confidently imparting to you, my
priuatest thoughts; which as they
are the pleasingest I euer had; so seeme
they to me, the vsefullest. Such
as they are, you haue them here.
You will not deny them a welcome,
for his sake, who truly loueth you,
and is,
MY LORD,
Your most affectionate kynsman
and most humble and most
obedient seruant KENELME DIGBY