OR
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
BY
EMANUEL SWEDENBORG
TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY
FRANK
SEWALL, A.M.
From
the Latin edition of Dr. J. F. Immanuel Tafel, Tubingen, 1849
SECOND AND REVISED EDITION
NEW YORK
NEW
CHURCH BOARD OF PUBLICATION
3 WEST
TWENTY-NINTH STREET
MDCCCC
ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE
YEAR 1887,
BY FRANK SEWALL,
Di THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS AT WASHINGTON.
(TITLE-FAGE OF THE LATIN EDITION]
EMAN.
SWEDENBORGII
Sacrae
Regiae Majestatis Regnique Sueciae Collegii Metallice Assestorii
REGNUM ANIMALE
ANATOMICE, PHYSICE ET PHILOSOPHICE
PERLUSTRATUM
CUJUS
Pars Septima
DE ANIMA
A GIT
E CHIROGRAPHO EJUS IN BIBLIOTHECA REGIAE
ACADEMIAE HOLMIENSIS ASS EK VATS
NUNC PRIMUM EDIDIT
DR. JO. FR. IM. TAFEL
Ptiilosophiae
Professor et Regiae Bibliothecae Universitatis Tubingensis PraefeSus
TUBINGAE
CURAM ADMINISTRAT “ VERLAGSEXPEDITION "
LONDINI
WILLIAM NEWBERY, 6, KING STREET, HOLBORN
H. BALLIERE, 219, REGENT STREET
1849
CONTENTS
The Translator’s Preface,.............................................................................. .page vii
Preface of the Editor of the Latin Edition..................................................
“ xxi
An Introductory Essay on Science and Theology in Swedenborg's
Writings, “ xxiii
Author’s Preface........................................................................
—------------- “ xxx
Part first.
THE SENSES.
Chap. I.—The Simple Fiber (n. 1-14)................................................................... page
3
Its nature.—The Fibrous System and the
Body.—Diseases of the Fibers.—Derivations of Bodily from Mental Diseases, and vice
versa.
Chap. IL—The Senses (n. 15-23),......................................................................... page
8
External Organs of the Senses.—The
Sensory Fiber^.—How the Sensations are carried from the External to the Internal
Organs. —The Cortical Glandules, their number, variety and harmony, and their
relation to the Sensations. —The Spiral and the Vortical Circumvolution of the
Sensations in the Brain. —Harmony and Discord of Sensations.—The Inmost
Sensory.
Chap. III.—The Intellect and Action
(n. 24-34),.......................................... .page
17
Connection of Intellect and Adtion.—The
First Perception.—The Force exciting Perception.—The Desires thence
derived.—What Perceptions are innate and what acquired.—The purely Animal
knowledges of Sense.—The concurrence of the Soul with Sense.—The more perfedt
Forms are, the more pleasing to the Sense.
Chap. IV.—The Sense of Touch (n.
35-38),...................................................... page
30
The lowest and truly corporeal sense.—On
what its perfedtion depends.—To what Cortical Glandules the organs ot the Sensation
of Touch correspond. —How the Soul perceives most distindlly any change in the
entire body, &c.
Chap. V.—The Taste (n. 39-42),......................................................................... page 36
Taste is a higher
sense ot Touch.—What Forms it discerns.—Its Organic Substances in the
Tongue.—On what its pertedtion depends.—How Taste is carried to the Brain as a
Common Sensory immediately by the Nerve of the Fifth Pair, &c. J
Chap. VI.—The Smell (n. 43-48),..................................................................... page 40
Smell is a still higher sense of
Touch.—It discerns the still more simple Angular Forms which are borne about
in the aerial Atmosphere.—Touch, Taste, and Smell perceive the External Forms
of Parts, but not the Internal Forms as do the Hearing and Sight.—How the
Common Sensory is affedled by the sense of Smell.—The still purer Bodies and
Forms known to the Soul, but not perceptible by any sense.
Chap. VII.—The Hearing (n. 49-67),........................................................... —.page 46
The Organ of this sense.—Also a sense of
Touch.—What is Harmony and Disharmony.—The Hearing a more excellent sense than
Touch, Taste, or
• Smell.—The Speech of Brutes only
corporeal and material, signifying af- fetftions ; the same element in Human
Language.—Adlion of the Motor and Sensory Fibers in Hearing.—The Restorative
and Recreative effedts of the sense of Hearing.—A Common Sound necessary to the
production of Particular Sounds.—Common Sound.—The diredt communication of the
Hearing with the Cerebrum by the softer nerve of the Seventh Pair, &c.
Chap. VIII.—The Sight (n. 68-90),................................................................... page
54
Its Organ adapted to receive the
modifications of the Ether.—The most perfedl of the external senses ; its
limited powers.—Revelations of the Microscope. —Inference fifom analogy as to
the power of Mental Sight—Power of vision - in Animalcules.—Images, variations
of Light and Shade, Colour, Harmony, etc.—Process of the Sensation in the Brain
described.—Imagination the internal sense of Sight.—How objedls of the
external senses pass into objects of the internal senses.—The translation of
modifications, through the Circular and Spiral, up to the Vortical Form.—The
interior sense of Place possessed by Brutes, but wanting in Man.
Chap. IX.—Perception,
Imagination, Memory, and their Ideas (n.
91-122),............................................................................................................... —Page
63
Imagination an Internal
Sight.—Correspondence between the Imagination and Ocular Vision.—The parts of
Vision are Objects and Images of Imagination. —Ideas.—The Memory the Potential
Imagination; the Imagination the Adlive Memory.—The Imagination dependent on
the Memory and the Memory upon the Senses.—The Imagination requires more than
Memory ; the Order, Law and Harmony of the Parts, both or Imagination and of
Memory, derived not from Sense but from the pure Intellect, and thus from the
Soul.—Natural Inclination, as of the Poet, the Musician, the Mechanic, depends
more on the Imagination than on the Intellect, etc.
Part Second.
THE INTELLECT.
Chap. XL—The Human Intellect (n.
140-158),.______________________ page
84
Intellediion, Cogitation, Ratiocination,
and Judgment
Chap. XII—Intercourse of Soul and Body (n. 159-174)1—....................... page
97
Relation of Ideas to Impressions.—Correspondence,
Natural and Acquired.— Adlion.—Determination.—Instindt.—The Soul everywhere
present in the Body
Part Third.
THE AFFECTIONS.
Chap. XIII.—Concerning
Harmonies and the Affections thence originating; AND
CONCERNING THE DESIRES IN GENERAL (n. (175-196),............................................... —............ - page IXO
Chap. XIV.—The Lower Mind {Animus)
and its Affections in particular (n.
197-288), ............................................................................................................. page
X17
Gladness.—Sadness.—Loves
in general.—TheVenerealLove.—Hatred and aversion to Venereal Love.—The
Conjugial Love.—The Conjugial Hate.—Love of Parents for Children.—Love of
Society and of Country.—Love for one’s Associates, and Friendship.—Hatred.—Love
of Self.—Ambition.—Pride.— Haughtiness.—Humility.—Contempt.—Dejedtion of
Spirits.—Hope and Despair.—Love of Immortal Fame after
Death.—Generosity.—Magnanimity. —What are Loves of the World and of the
Body.—Pusillanimity and Folly.— Avarice.—Prodigality.—Liberality.—Contempt’of
Wealth.—Pity.—Charity.— Fear and Dread.—Bravery.—Intrepidity and
Courage.—Indignation.—Anger.—Fury___________ Zeal
—Patience.—Mildness.—Tranquility of Mind.—Impatience.
—Shame.—Revenge.—Misanthropy.—Love of
Solitude.—Cruelty.—Clemency.—Intemperance.—Luxury.—Temperance.—Parsimony.—Frugality.
Chap. XV.—Animus and Rational Mind (Mens) (n. 289-306),.................... ./a^/176
The Rational Mind (Mens) the Life
of Thought, as the Animus is the Life of S£tts< ation.
Chap. XVI.—Concerning the Formation of the Rational mind and
concerning its Affections (n. 307-339),........................................................................................................................ ./a^(i88
The Loves and Affections of the Mind in
general.—The Love of Understanding and of being Wise.—The Love of knowing
Secret Things ; Wonder.—The Love of Foreknowing the Future.—The Love of Good
and of Evil.—The Affirmative and the Negative.—Conscience.—The Highest Good and
the Highest Truth.—The Love of Virtues and of Vices.—Honesty.—Decorum.
Chap. XVII.—Conclusion as to what constitutes the Animus,
what the Rational, and what the Spiritual Mind Irt 340-350)................................................................................. pagers
That the Rational Mind is properly what
is called Man.
Chap. XVIII.—Free Will, or the choice of Moral Good and Evil (n- 351-377), page 219
In what does Liberty consist.—The First
Liberty consists in the ability to withdraw the Mind from corporeal
things.—The Second Liberty consists in the ability to learn, from Sacred and
other writings and from reflection, that there is a Spiritual and a Divine
which is above, and thus to procure an intellectual Faith.—The Third Liberty
consists in using the prescrioed means, namely, the sacred rites of
Religion.—The Fourth Liberty consists in knowing what is the Highest Good and
in choosing what is Best.—Seven Reasons why Freedom is granted to the human
will, when it is productive of so much unhappiness to the race.
Chap. XIX.—The Will and its Liberty : and what respectively
is the Intellect (n. 378-400), ................................................................................. page..................................... 244
The Intellect, viewed in itself, has for
its objeCt the Truth.—The Analytic and Synthetic Methods.—The Rational
Logic.—The Will in general means the Mind ; but in particular some Special Mind
or Determined Love.—The Mind thinks when it contemplates means to an end, it judges
when it arranges the means in their true order ; at length it concludes or
wishes, and this conclusion is called the Will.—The Liberty of the Mind
consists only in this, That it can obey or not obey the Intellect.—All Will has
regard to an Efi’eCl in which is an End, and hence is a Future Event.
Chap. XX.—[The Mental Faculties (n.
401-428),]....................................... page 255
Discourse.—Human Prudence.—Simulation
and Dissimulation.—Cunning and Malice.—Sincerity.—Justice and Equity.—The
Knowledges, Intelligence and Wisdom.—The Causes which change the state of the
Intellect and of the Rational Mind, or those which pervert and those which
perfeCt.—Causes, Connate and Acquired : of the Mind, of the Body.
Chap. XXI.—Loves
of the Soul or Spiritual Loves (n. 429-461), page
270
The Love of a Being above Self.—The Love
of the Neighbor as of Oneself.—The Love of Society as of Many Selves.—The Love
of being near to the Beloved. —The Love ot being Eminent in Happiness, Power,
Wisdom.—The Love of Propagating the Heavenly Society by Natural Means.—The Love
of one’s Body.—The Love of Immortality.—Spiritual Zeal.—The Love of Propagating
the Kingdom and City of God.—The Derivation of Corporeal Loves from Spiritual
Loves and their Concentration in the Rational Mind.—Pure or Divine Love
regarded in Itself.
Chap. XXII.—The Influx of the Animus and its Affections into
the Body, and of the Body into the Animus (n. 462-469),........................................................................................ page 288
Chap. XXIII.—The Influx of the Rational Mind into the Animus
and by means of the Animus into the Body; and the Influx of the Animus into the
Rational Mind (n. 470-472),...... page 293
Chap. XXIV.—The Influx of the Spiritual Mind, or of the Soul
into the Animus, and that of the Animus into the Spiritual Mind (n. 473-476),............................................................ page 296
The Influx of Spiritual Loves of the
Soul into the Rational Mind, and vice versa.
Chap. XXV.—Inclinations and Temperaments (n. 477-485),__________ page
299
The Spiritual inclination of being Wise;
the Natural inclination of Knowing; the Intelledtual inclination of
Understanding.—The Temperaments: Sanguine, Choleric, Melancholy, Phlegmatic.
Part Fourth
IMMORTALITY ; AND THE STATE OF THE
SOUL AFTER DEATH.
Chap. XXVI—Concerning
Death (n. 486-497)............................................. page 304
Chap.
XXVII.—The Immortality of the Soul
(n. 498-510),....................... page
311
Chap.
XXVIII.—The State of the Soul after the Death of the
Body (n. 511-532)............................................................................................... page 319
Chap. XXIX.—Concerning
Heaven, or the Society of Happy Souls (n-533-542), - page 334
Chap. XXX—Concerning
Hell, or the Society of Unhappy Souls (n. 543-548),
page 340
Chap. XXXI.—Concerning the Divine Providence (n.
549-561),/^ 344
Chap. XXXIL—The
Universal Mathesis (n. 562-567),................................ page 351
A Science of Sciences or Universal
Science.—Not learned, but inborn in the Soul; and possessed by Souls released
from the body, and by Angels.—Unless the Soul were possessed of such a
knowledge it could not flow into our thoughts and endue us with the power of
understanding and expressing higher things; nor could it compel its organic
forms.to conform to the most interior and hidden laws, both mechanical,
physical, chemical, and others.—Truths a priori.
Appendixes.
Appendix I
—Twelve Theses
on the Human Soul,............................... page 355
From the “Economy of the Animal
Kingdom," Fart IL, Chap. HI.
Appendix II
—An
Abstract of the “Epilogue on the Senses, or Sensation in general,” page 360
From Part IV. of the “ Animal
Kingdom,” as edited in Latin by Dr. J. F. Immanuel Tafel, Tubingen and London, 1848; now first translated.
A. Sensation in general.—B. Concerning
Truths.—C. Concerning the Affections.—D. A general Exposition regarding
Sensation and Affedlion.—E. From the Rules of Harmony or of Music.—F.
Conclusion concerning the Intellect and its Operation.
Appendix III
—Extracts
from the Psychological Treatises of Aristotle (Thomas
Taylor's Translation) r .........................page 368
A. From Aristotle’s “On the
Soul."—B. From Aristotle’s “On the Generation of Animals,"
etc.
Index_________________________________________________________ page 380
TRANSLATOR’S
PREFACE.
From the author’s statement in his preface to the
treatise on the Soul, as well as from the tenor of his scientific and
philosophical writings throughout, it is unmistakably clear that the search for
the soul was the real end and inspiring motive of all his labours.
The ardour with which he sought this precious knowledge
is evinced by the frequent tentative and preliminary essays scattered through
his writings, in which he records his fragmentary glimpses of his subjetfl, and
pursues as it were the fleeting vision of a sublime figure forever eluding his
grasp.
Thus in his prologue to the work entitled The Animal
Kingdom, the author publishes a “Summary of his intended work;” in the
course of which, after a series of anatomical studies, is placed an IntroduCton
to Rational Psychology, “ consisting of new doCtrines through the assistance of
which,” he remarks, “we may be conducted from the material organism of the
body to a knowledge of the soul which is immaterial; these are, the doCtrine of
Forms, the doCtrine of Order and Degrees, also, the doCtrine of Series and
Society, the doCtrine of Influx, the doCtrine of Correspondence and
Representation, lastly, the doCtrine of Modification.”
This Introduction to Rational Psychology the author had
actually furnished already in the First Part (chapter viii.) of the Economy
of the Animal Kingdom, published some years previously. In the projected
Summary the Introduction was to be followed immediately by the Rational
Psychology itself, which should comprise “the subjects of ACtion, of External
and Internal Sense, of Imagination and Memory; also of the AffeCtions of the
Animus, of the Intellect, that is, of the Thought and of the Will, and of the
Affections of the Rational Mind, also of InstinCt; lastly of the Soul, and of
its State in the Body, its Intercourse, AffeCtions, and Immortality, and of its
State when the Body dies. The work to conclude with a Concordance of Systems.”
In the series as published, however, we find the
Introduction to Rational Psychology actually followed by the chapters i. and
ii. of the Second Part of the Economy, treating of the Motion of the
Brain and of its Cortical Substance, and these are again as abruptly succeeded
by a chapter on the Human Soul, in beginning which the author refers to his
previous endeavour “to expound a doCtrine of Series and Degrees, by way of
introduction to a knowledge of the soul.” “ I could not but think,” he says, “
with mankind in general, that all our knowledge of it [the soul] was to be
attempted by a bare reasoning philosophy, or more immediately by the anatomy of
the human body. But upon making the attempt, I found myself as far from my
objeft as ever, for no sooner did I seem to have mastered the subject, than I
found it again eluding my grasp, though it never absolutely disappeared from my
view. Thus my hopes were not destroyed, but deferred.”
Speaking of the doCtrine of
Series and Degrees as only teaching “the distinction and relation between
things superior and inferior, or prior and posterior,” and as unable “to
express by any adequate terms of its own those things which transcend the
sphere of familiar things,” he declares the necessity of our having recourse
to a Mathematical Philosophy of Universals, a kind of universal science to
which all other sciences and arts are subjeCl, and one which “advances through
their innermost mysteries, as it proceeds from its own principle to causes and
from causes to effeCls, by its own, that is by the natural, order.” “ But even
if it were granted,” he continues, “ that the doClrine of Order and the science
of Universals were carried by the human mind to the acme of perfection, nevertheless
it does not follow that we should, by these means alone, be brought into a
knowledge of all that can be known; for these sciences are but subsidiary,
serving only by a compendious method and mathematical certainty to lead us, by
continued abstractions and elevations of thought, from the posterior to the
prior sphere; or from the world of effeCts, which is the visible, to the world
of causes and principles, which is the invisible. Hence in order that these
sciences may be available we must have recourse to experiments and to the
phenomena of the senses, without which they would remain in a state of bare
theory and bare capability of aiding us For
these reasons I am strongly persuaded that the
essence and nature of the soul,
its influx into the body, and the reciprocal aClion of the body, can never come
to demonstration, without these doClrines [of Series, Orders and Universals],
combined with a knowledge of anatomy, pathology, and psychology; nay, even of
physics, and especially of the auras of the world ; and that unless our labours
take this direction and mount from phenomena, thus we shall in every new age
have to build new systems, which in their turn will tumble to the ground,
without the possibility of being rebuilt This
and no other, is the reason that with diligent study
and intense application I have investigated the anatomy
of the body, and principally the human, so far as it is known from experience
; and that I have followed the anatomy of all its parts in the same manner as I
have here investigated the cortical substance. In doing this I may have gone
beyond the ordinary limits of inquiry, so that but few of my readers may be
able distinctly to understand me. But thus far I have felt bound to venture,
for I have resolved, cost what it may, to trace out the nature of the human
soul. He therefore who desires the end, ought also to desire the means.” He
then proceeds to arrange into chapters what he calls “The first fruits of my
psychological labours.”
The reverence and cautious modesty which everywhere
tempers the ardour of the author in the quest of his sublime object are apparent
in the mention which, only four years later, in the work on the Animal
Kingdom, he makes of this same “Prodromus on the Human Soul.” Thus he
writes :—
“Not
very long since 1 published the Economy of the Animal Kingdom, a work divided into distinct
treatises, but treating only of the blood, the arteries, and the heart, and of
the motion of the brain and the cortical substance thereof; and before
traversing the whole field in detail I made a rapid passage to the soul and put
forth a prodromus respecting it. But on considering the matter more deeply, I
found that I had directed my course thither both too hurriedly and too soon,
after having explored the blood only and its peculiar organs. I took the step,
impelled by an ardent desire for knowledge. But as the soul acts in the supreme
and innermost things, and does not come forth until all her swathings have been
successively unfolded, I am therefore determined to allow myself no respite,
until I have traversed the universal animal kingdom, to the soul. Thus I hope
that by bending my course inward continually, I shall open all the doors that
lead to her, and at length contemplate the soul herself, by the Divine permission”
(Prologue to the Animal Kingdom, no. 19).
Accordingly, in the work on the Animal Kingdom,
the author proceeds to examine in detail the various parts of the human body,
omitting those which had been treated of already in the Economy, etc.,
namely, the heart, the vessels, and the blood (Prologue to Part III., An.
King., no. 469). Part I. treats of the Organs of Taste and of D-igestion,
of the Glands, the Gall-bladder, the Kidneys, etc. Part II. treats of the
Viscera of the Thorax, or the Organs of the Superior region. Part III., of the
Skin, the Senses of Touch and Taste, and Organic Forms generally. It is
noticeable that the brain is neither mentioned by the author as having been
already “fully treated of” in the Economy, nor included in the three
parts of the Animat Kingdom, as translated and published in the volumes
bearing that name. The treatises on the brain which fill so conspicuous a place
in the projected Summary of the author’s labours above mentioned, were designed
by the author to constitute the succeeding division, or Part IV. of the work on
the Animal Kingdom, as appears from his assertion at the close of no.
468, in the Prologue to Part III. of the same work. The extensive manuscripts
left by the author covering this great division of his work have been in minor
portions brought to light through the translations of Dr. J. J. G. Wilkinson, and are now in process of being translated and publisned entire under
the editorship of Dr. Rudolph L. Tafel.
At the close of the Prologue here referred to the author
once again intimates his intention “to ascend by degrees to the supreme sphere
from whence we may legitimately deduce the principles of things, and where we
may speak of the soul with comparative certainty and definiteness,” in order
that from the higher knowledge thus attained he may more intelligently treat of
a subject which, according to his original plan of the work, would here have
its place, namely, that of generation and “the organs by means of which new
forms are conceived in the image of the form preceding them.” This intention he
carried out in treating of The Brain, in whose cortical or cineritious
substance “the soul resides as in its principles” {An. King., no. 468),
and also in those treatises edited by Dr. Immanuel Tafel, Tubingen, 1848, in
the Latin, entitled also, “ Part IV. of the Animal Kingdom, which treats
of the Carotids, of the Senses of Smell, Hearing, and Sight, of Sensation and
Affection in General, and of the Intellect and its Operation.” An abstract of
these treatises, hitherto untranslated, particularly of the author’s Epilogue
on the Senses, or Sensation in general, of his General Exposition
concerning Sensation and Affection, of his Rules of Harmony and Music,
and his Conclusion concerning the Intellect and its Operation, we have
added to the present work, forming Appendix II.
Descending now, as he had promised, from these first
principles again into the body, the author discusses in succeeding parts of the
Animal Kingdom, the Periosteum and the Mammae {De Periostea et de
Mammis; Tafel, Tubingae, 1849), and Generation and its Organs {De
Generatione, de Partibus Genitalibus utriusque sexus, et de Forma- tione Foetus
in Utero; ed. Tafel, Tubingae, 1849. Translated by Wilkinson, London, 1852)
; and at length, having surveyed the entire field of the human anatomy and
physiology, he reaches in the treatise now offered to the reader, the long
anticipated Rational Psychology itself, which, according to his plan
drawn up in the Prologue to the Animal Kingdom, should conclude the
whole series of treatises, and should “ comprise the subjects of ACtion, of
External and Internal Sense, of Imagination and Memory; also of the Affections
of the Animus; of the Intellect, that is, of Thought, and of the Will, and of
the AffeCtions of the Rational Mind ; also of Instinct ; lastly of the Soul,
and of its State in the Body, its Intercourse, Affection and Immortality; and
of its State when the Body dies.” All the subjects here named are treated under
their proper heads in the work now before us, with the exception of ACtion. A
special treatise on this'subjeCt, together with other brief papers, was
published both in Latin and in an English translation, in
London, 1847, by Dr. J. J. G. Wilkinson, under the title
of Posthumous Trails. Besides the treatise on Aftion, and another on Sensation,
or the Passion of the Body, this volume contains three brief transactions,
all pertaining immediately to the subjedl before us, but evidently written at
intervals, and at a time previous to the date of the present work. These three
are, a brief essay entitled The Way to a knowledge of the Soul, a paper
in four chapters on The Origin and Propagation of the Soul, and a
treatise of considerable length called a Fragment on the Soul.
Even as early as 1734, in the work entitled Outlines
on the Infinite, which immediately succeeded the Principia, the
author devotes the second part of the treatise to a Philosophical Argument
on the Mechanism of the Intercourse between the Soul and the Body
Finally, among these preliminary glances at the great
subject aimed at should be here mentioned two chapters on The Soul, and
the Chain and Bond of Uses, the latter treating of the cerebrum as the
medium of intercourse between the soul and the body. These are found in Codex 58
of the Manuscripts {Photolithographed MSS., vol. vi., pp. 81-92), and
inserted by Dr. Rudolph L. Tafel in vol. i. of the above-mentioned work on The
Brain (see page 13).
An explanation of these frequent and scattered
unfinished essays on the soul, is afforded in the author’s address to the
reader with which he introduces the above mentioned Fragment on the Soul. He
says:—
“ I was for some time in doubt whether
to comprise in a single volume all my long meditations on the soul and the
body, and their reciprocal a&ion and passion, or whether it would be better
to divide the work into numbers, and publish it seriatim, after the manner of
transactions. To declare the nature of the soul, to exhibit its state, to show
the mutual intercourse and adions subsisting between it and the body, and the
connection of each with each in the bonds of harmony ; in other words, to
display philosophically, analytically, geometrically and anatomically, the
entire animal kingdom and its parts, with the functions and offices of each.
This is a labour of some years, and must extend over several volumes.................................................. I
have thought it most
prudent
to divide the labour, and to take up my pen at short intervals, allowing
myself occasionally a little respite, to draw breath and enable me to attend to
my other duties. For the mind is even as the pen ; too much usage blunts its
point and wears away its fineness. Such, gentle reader, is the reason which
will move me to recur at frequent intervals to the task I have prescribed for
myself, and to intrude myself often upon your presence, probably not less than
five or six times a year with my publications, or as they may properly be
called Psychological Transactions. By this means I hope, after a few years, to
gain the end, and to be in a condition to declare the state of the soul when
its connection with the body is dissolved by death, and it is left to its own
disposal.”
That the work now before us, De Anima, is the
author’s long deferred Rational Psychology, and the final summary of all
his studies on this subjeCl, forming also the conclusion and culmination of the
great series entitled the Animal Kingdom, seems abundantly apparent
from the agreement of its contents with those subjects indicated in the
closing numbers of the author’s projected scheme oi his work, from the almost
universal reference in the minor treatises to a fuller and final one to come,
and from the distinct statement in the author’s preface to this work, that it
is only after completing his survey of the human anatomy that he now feels
himself enabled to really advance and penetrate into the hitherto hidden
knowledge of the soul itself. He refers to his preliminary studies, including
the Introduction to a Rational Psychology, as having been finished ; and
“so now,at length,” he writes, “ we may treat of the soul from principles, or
synthetically.” And finally, whereas he has hitherto warned his reader and
himself from daring prematurely to enter the sacred precinfts of this supreme
knowledge, he now boldly invites to enter; believing that his reader, if he
shall have deigned to follow him thus far, “ will perceive what is the soul,
what is its state in the body, and what after the life of the body.”
That a work forming the culmination and conclusion of
the whole series of scientific and philosophic works of Swedenborg should have
lain hidden away in manuscript one hundred years before being Drought to
light, as it then was in the Latin edition of Dr. J. F. Immanuel Tafel, seems
remarkable ; and hardly less so that nearly half a century has passed before an
English translation has been furnished. The transcendent importance of the
work, if we may judge from the relative estimate placed upon its subjeCl-matter
by the author himself, or from the diligence and ardour with which he prosecuted
the laborious studies necessary to its production, appears plainly enough from
what we have here adduced.
We desire to add a few reflections on its value as
viewed in the light of the relations this work sustains to the history of
philosophy in general, and also in particular to the subsequent or theological
portion of the author’s writings.
The one desire and aim animating the entire series of
Swedenborg’s scientific and philosophical writings was, as we have at the
outset remarked, his “search for the soul.” This single aim furnishes us the
key to Swedenborg’s mission in the world of science, of philosophy, and of
theology.
To know the nature of spirit and its relation to matter,
or, as the author so frequently puts it, “ a knowledge of the soul and of its
intercourse with the body,” was the twofold objeCl of his search. If we regard
the body in the sense of the larger body—the natural world,— and the soul as
meaning the larger soul—the spiritual world,— the knowledge of the soul and its
intercourse with the body becomes identical with that of the spiritual world
and its relation to the natural world, and this is pre-eminently the subjeCl
of the descriptive portion of our author’s theological writings.
Where did he seek this knowledge of the soul?
In its own realm. In the living (and not in the dead)
human body; in the kingdom of uses, as exhibited in the beautiful order,
harmony, and activities cf the human anatomy and physiology.
The “ Animal Kingdom ” meant to Swedenborg the kingdom
of the anima, the realm over which the soul presides as queen.
The relation of this soul to her body, or her own
kingdom and world, was what he first sought to know; and through that to know
the nature of the soul herself. The knowledge he obtained in these labours,
while not all that he aimed at, was nevertheless that which peculiarly and
pre-eminently qualified his mind to be the recipient of the greater knowledge
of the true nature of spirit and of the relation of the spiritual to the
natural world.
The doCtrine of Correspondence as a science was
naturally, and not supernaturally, revealed to Swedenborg. It was a deduction
of his own reasoning, or a part of his own philosophy, as was the doCtrine of
Order, Series, Degrees, and Modification, on which it rests. This is unmistakably
apparent from his own statement, and
from the repeated applications of and references to these doctrines in his
scientific writings.
The doCtrine of Correspondence became manifest to
Swedenborg in his search for the mode of the soul’s intercourse with the body.
It was here, in the human soul’s own province, that our author found the key
which was to solve the problem of the ages, and open the minds of men to a
truly heavenly knowledge of the relation of the spiritual to the natural world,
of spirit to matter, of earth to heaven, of the written Word to eternal and
essential truth, and of man.to God.
To Swedenborg Correspondence meant, in its first sense,
the cor-"*'' respondence of the body to its physical environment, and then
that of the soul within to its corporeal, that is, its fibrous and sensuous
environment.
The history of this doCtrine of Correspondence carries
us back to the origins of philosophy among the Greeks, and especially brings
into prominence the relation of Swedenborg and Aristotle. The historic
antecedents of the doCtrine of Influx, or the Intercourse of the Soul and Body,
Swedenborg himself has outlined in several of his theological works, but
especially in his brief but wonderful treatise De Commercio Animae et
Corporis (On the Intercourse of the Soul and the Body).
Swedenborg, as no other writer, deserves the proud title
of the Aristotle of modern philosophy. For as Aristotle, with his induCtive and
scientific method, succeeded to the idealism of Plato, so after the speculative
and ideal systems of Descartes in France, and Leibnitz and Wolf in Germany,
came Swedenborg with his severely pradical method, his reasoning from
experience, climbing by the ladder of knowledge a posteriori up to the
higher and interior principles, from which again he might descend into a true
philosophy of nature and of man. The coincidence of the researches of Aristotle
and Swedenborg on the subjeCt of the soul cannot but strike the attention of
the historian; not indeed so much in the resemblance of their contents,
although this is in instances remarkable, as in the similarity of method, or
their ways of approaching the remotely-hidden objeCt of their quest. Both used
the experimental method, and this led them into very similar paths of
investigation. As evidence of this, notice the contents of that series of
Aristotle’s writings in which his work On the Soul (yept occurs. They
are as follows:— four books on the Parts of Animals ; five books on the Generation
of Animals ; to which are added treatises on the Walking of Animals, on
the Motion of Animals, and on the Spirit. Three books on the Soul;
to which are added treatises on Sense and the Sensitive ; on Memory;
on Sleep and Dreams; on Length and Shortness of Life; on Youth
and Old Age; on Life and Death ; and on Respiration. That our
reader may compare at a glance the methods of discussion as well as the
thoughts advanced by these two great inductive psychologists, the leaders of
ancient and of modern learning respectively, 1 have thought it admissible to
introduce as an appendix to the present work a series of extracts made at
random from Taylor’s translation of Aristotle’s De Anima, etc. (see
Appendix III.).
Great, however, as was Swedenborg’s admiration for his
illustrious master and predecessor in the line of induCtive research, so that
to him was assigned the highest place among the world’s great teachers, as
evinced by the titles, the “ Chief Philosopher of the Gentiles,” and “ Our
Philosopher,” so often and so endearingly bestowed in alluding to him,* yet
was Swedenborg no blind follower of even so revered a teacher, nor did he
hesitate to differ from him on the important question of the manner of the
intercourse of the body and the soul.
Three doCtrines had hitherto prevailed in the learned world
regarding the intercourse of mind and matter. The first, called by Swedenborg
that of Physical Influx, was taught by Aristotle, and afterwards during all the
earlier period of Christian learning by the Schoolmen. After this came the
doCtrine of Spiritual or Occasional Influx, as taught by Descartes and his
disciples. At last came Leibnitz with his, as he believed only reconciling,
doCtrine of Pre-established Harmony.f Swedenborg, agreeing wholly with
neither, sought to reconcile the three by extraCling and combining the gist of
truth in each, and the resultant doCtrine he named the doClrine of Correspondence,
a doCtrine which rests upon the equally philosophic and scientific doflrines of
Series, Orders, Degrees, and Modifications. Correspondence, as seen in the
plane of nature only, (and it was only on this plane that Swedenborg up to this
time had discovered it,) consists in such a mutual adaptation of inner and
outer, higher and lower, grosser and more subtle spheres or bodies, that there
may be a reception, communication, and transference of motions and affections
from one to the other. It is therefore the name we give to that kind of
intercourse which is not bodily influx, or to the union that exists, not by
continuity or confusion of substance, but by contiguity and modification of
state. It is the relation of the affluent waves of ether to the eye; of the eye
to the sensory fibre, of the fibre to the cortical gland; of the gland to the
common sensory; of the sensory to the imagination; of the imagination to the
intellect; of the intellect to the soul; of the soul to God. By correspondence
the outer affeCts the inner without becoming one with it; by correspondence
things totally different in degree and in substance are nevertheless so
adapted that motions or tremulous vibrations in one may be continued through
the other, or converted into some modification of the other’s state. So the
soul corresponds in general and in every particular to its body.
This doCtrine of Correspondence, thus learned by
Swedenborg from the human body and its relation to the soul, was afterward applied
by him to all things material and spiritual, and thus to the natural and
spiritual world.*
Does it therefore follow that what Swedenborg has
delivered in his theological writings as Divinely revealed, is after all
reducible to a purely natural and scientific knowledge ? Swedenborg laid no
claims, indeed, to any supernatural illumination while elaborating these
doCtrines of Correspondence, of Degrees, of Series, etc., in his scientific
works, and yet on these doCtrines rests logically the whole scheme of the
spiritual metaphysics embraced in his theological works. The answer to this
question is a matter of grave importance ; involving as it does the whole
subjeCt of the nature of that illumination to which Swedenborg lays claim, and
the relation of his philosophical to his theological or illuminated writings.
A brief answer, we think, may be formulated thus:—It is
not the knowledge of Correspondence that is revealed or supernaturally
discovered, but the knowledge of the things that correspond.
Like the science of arithmetic, of algebra, and of
logic, so the science of Correspondence is a produCt of the human reasoning
power. Indeed, Correspondence may truly be called the logic itself of the
universe, or of creation. But as bare logic or bare mathematics it would be
utterly barren of results were there not the field of experimental knowledge to
which to apply it. This experimental knowledge is afforded in two planes of
experience—the physical and the spiritual. The spiritual experience, or that
knowledge derived from things heard and seen in the spiritual world, was
granted to Swedenborg by Divine permission, and afforded the true, the
loftiest, the final field for the application of those great sciences
elaborated * by the long years of such arduous discipline in the schools of
nature.
No one is more emphatic and clear than Swedenborg
himself in defining this difference between a doctrine as a method, and the
substantial knowledge to which that doctrine is applied.* Nor need we wonder
if, when these doctrines as scientific formulae were later rendered substantial
living knowledges, being clothed upon by the great faCts of a spiritual world
and the human life of its inhabitants, all former knowledge, even of the
doftrines themselves as illustrated in mere nature alone, seemed to Swedenborg
as naught, or as empty shadows. The senses whose phenomena were to be the field
of exploration for the doCtrine of Correspondence and Discrete Degrees were the
senses of the spiritual body. By this experience the nature of the soul was
substantially learned in the spiritual world, but never by Swedenborg in this
natural world, or by the deductions of reason alone. And the soul in its true nature
being there, and for the first time, seen and known, the mode of intercourse
between the soul-world and the matter-world is detected at a glance by means of
this already acquired knowledge of Influx, of Degrees and of Correspondence.
What, then, is the real gain achieved in the present
work? That even after all his laborious ascent he has failed to attain to any
satisfactory knowledge of the essence of the soul itself, and that what is
advanced is but conjecture and guesses of the reason is virtually confessed by
the author in the remarkable utterance in no.w 524 of the present
work :—“ Sed haec in secretis sunt; non nisi quam conjefiurae sunt; quis
haec vidit, ratio haec solum suadet. Quando animae vivimus, nos ipsos fortassis
ridebimus, quod tarn infantiliter divinawerimus." But while the
substance of the soul still remains a secret, its mode of intercourse with the
body, particularly in the outer degrees of its life, as well as its aCtual
manifestations in the conscious aCts of the imagination, the intellect, and the
will, are here presented with a fulness and a clearness unsurpassed, if ever approached,
by the psychological writers of any age. The physiological basis of psychology
is here presented with the exactness of mathematical demonstration. The
subjects of Innate Ideas, of InstinCt, of Freedom of the Will, of the Higher
and Lower Minds, are here elucidated in an argument at once so logical and
beautiful as to
make the study of these difficult themes a delight.
But even these features are of subordinate value when
compared with the great chief gain here accomplished in, namely, the author’s
clear apprehension of the doctrine of Correspondence, with its related
doctrines of Series, Degrees, of Orders, of Uses, and of Society. In these
grand logical structures we find laid the foundations of a truly spiritual
science, or of that theology which makes the knowledge of God a positive
knowledge; and this not by materializing the Divine, but by illuminating the
material and the natural with a celestial light and actuating these with a
Divine immanence.
While contending that it is the knowledge of the things
which correspond that is supernatural in Swedenborg’s disclosures, and not the
science of Correspondence itself, we feel that even here it will be worth our
while to distinguish a little more carefully than has hitherto been the habit
of the readers of Swedenborg, between revelation in its highest sense, as
afforded in the opening of the spiritual senses of the Word, and those
knowledges of the spiritual world “ from things heard and seen,” which while
truly supernatural cannot in the same sense be called revealed.
It has been customary to allude alike to the author’s
relations of “ things heard and seen ” by him in the spiritual world, and to
his exposition of the internal sense of the Scriptures as matter of revelation.
But between the two classes of truths there is, according to the author
himself, a marked distinction. StriCtly speaking, it is only those doClrines
which, as the author declares, he received “not from any angel but from the
Lord alone while reading the Word,” that is to be called revelation. It is here
that truth is taught synthetically and a priori in the fullest and
sublimest sense. The knowledges, on the other hand, which the author imparts in
his narration of his own experience by virtue of his conscious intromission
into the spiritual world and of the things there “heard and seenthese, while in
a true sense supernatural knowledges, are nevertheless knowledges gained by a
purely experimental method, and therefore as striCUy inductive and analytic as
the knowledges acquired in the pursuit of any branch of natural science. It is
this faCt which distinguishes the theology of Swedenborg from all previous
theological writing, in giving it not only a strictly scientific form, but a
positive content, absolutely free from speculative elements.
This twofold character of his writing is indicated in
the titles of his various works; thus that of the Arcana reads as
follows: “Arcana Coelestia quae in Scripturae Sacra seu Verbo Domini sunt,
de- teila ; hie primum quae in Genesi. Una cum Mirabilibus quae visa sunt in
Mundo Spirituum et in Coelo Angelorum.” The interior truths of the Word are
uncovered (det eft a}; the things of the spiritual world are seen tyisci).
In the same way the exposition of the Book of Revelation in the New
Testament is called the Apocalypse Revealed: Apocalypsis Revelata, in qua
deteguntzir Arcana quae ibz praedifta sunt et haftenus recondita
latuerunt." Here again are mysteries “ uncovered ” in the fullest
sense of revelation, and these uncovered things of the Word are the primary
source of that doCtrine which the writer gave to the churches as verily
“descending from God out of heaven.” Therefore again in his traCt entitled the
“ New Jerusalem and its Heavenly Doctrine, from things heard from heaven (ex
auditis e Caeld)," he gives in the introduction this explanation
regarding the doCtrine to follow:—“ This also is from heaven, being from the
spiritual sense of the Word, which is the same with the doClrine that is in
heaven ” (no. 7). And in the “ Brief Exposition of the Doftrine of the New
Church, signified by the ‘ New Jerusalem ’ in the Revelations," in
the opening paragraph he says, “The Apocalypse having been revealed,"
he is prepared to lay before the world “ a complete view of the doCtrine ” of
the Lord’s new church.
In calling attention to this distinction in the contents
of Swedenborg’s spiritual writing, it is not our intention to detract in the
least from the validity of one class as compared with the other; but to
maintain, even in this upper realm of his labours, the same distinction-into
the analytic and the synthetic, the experimental and the a priori, or
absolute truth, which everywhere characterizes his researches and his teaching.
The ladder planted on earth seems to lose itself in the dazzling heights of
heaven ; but it still remains a ladder of twofold passage, of ascent and of
descent. As from the body we have climbed to the soul and its substantial
world, so from it again as a new basis of aCtual experimental knowledge we
climb to those principles of essential truth, love, and life which constitute
that “internal sense of the Word which is in heaven.” Thence there remains but
one further vision for the adoring soul—that which reaches up to Him who is the
eternal Word, who in the beginning “was with God and was God, and by whom all
things were made.” And yet it is solely by virtue of this descent all the while
into the author’s mind of that truth which he “ received from the Lord alone,
while reading the Word,” and from no angel and from no spirit, that his
writings acquire their synthetic unity, their a priori authority, their
power and meaning as revelation. We behold the eye seeing in light the face of
its own Creator. We see in all this splendid accumulation of scientific and
philosophic knowledge, and in this laboriously acquired method, and these
subordinated sciences, the most perfeCi of instruments capable of being constructed
out of the elements of human reason, the divinely prepared organ and the living
responsive human agent by which a veritable science of God was to be
made possible to men, and things hitherto concealed were to be made known. Even
in the world beyond there will still remain the axioms, the necessary
assumption, the truths a priori, the distinCl realm of revealed as
entirely different from experimental knowledge, as here; but as truly there
will be a world of aClual sensitive life, where knowledge will be acquired by
observation, and the reason will find a higher and nobler field of exercise
than it has ever found in all the heights and depths of nature. Even in the
spiritual world what is revealed remains forever distinCi from what is “heard
and seen.” It were possible for any man, t should God permit, by the
opening of his spiritual senses to have conscious knowledge of the spiritual
world, as was the case with the prophets and evangelists, with Paul and with
Swedenborg. What they might communicate of things heard and seen in that world
might seem to us indeed, and might worthily be called, a supernatural, a
miraculous kind of knowledge; and yet it would consist of things wholly within
the scope of human observation and discovery, although of an extraordinary
kind. Not such is that knowledge of truth revealed which can come but from one
source alone—the Word, and God speaking through it to the mind worthy and capable
of receiving such a revelation. The relation of Swedenborg’s scientific or
inductive writings to his theological writings finds its explanation,
therefore, in the more subtle but similar relation borne by his descriptive to
his doctrinal, theological writings. In the one we have the truths in the
inductive or ascending order; in the other in their deductive order, and
descent from principles to application and corroboration.
The ultimate knowledge, the ultimate discovery, is after
all alone in God and from God. As all life is from Him alone, so is all truth
and all knowledge; and therefore in one sense all knowledge is revelation. But
while we are allowed to procure some knowledges from without and “as of
ourselves,” in order that we may enjoy that individuality and personality
essential to our having any moral and rational quality, there are other
knowledges that can be given us only in that revelation wherein God manifestly
speaks, and human sense and human reason listen and obey. So are we kept
mindful of God and of our own insufficiency, lest we too should desire to
“become as gods, knowing good and evil.” So is the vista ever opening above us,
inviting us to endless aspiration, longing, hope, and adoration.
That Swedenborg fell short of his quest in failing to
find in nature the real quality and substance of the soul is true; but this is
a truth in which he and the world have reason to rejoice. Had he reached that
shore too soon, there would his career have stopped. While the soul, like an
undiscovered continent, remained still hidden from view, here in this
stupendous series of works the great ship was being constructed which was
indeed at last, over waters all unknown, to carry the bold navigator thither.
In this ship, the sublime doctrine of Correspondence, by favoring winds of
heaven he was carried to the great world of spiritual substance and spiritual
life; and thence by the same vehicle, so wondrously constructed, he has
brought to men an intelligible account of this new and interesting realm, and
enabled them to read the deep arcana, hitherto hidden but now revealed, which
lie equally in all things of nature and in the Word of God.
Finally, Has the science of to-day aught to learn from
the lesson of Swedenborg’s heroic labours and their result ? Is it the lesson
of
F a sublime tragedy,
of a vast hope crushed, of a magnificent structure which fell because of its
too near approach to the skies ? In other words, Shall we regard the stupendous
scientific and philosophic achievements of Swedenborg as of no worth, seeing
that they failed to bring him to his desired goal—a true knowledge of the soul
? Far otherwise do we read the lesson of these pages. The utterance they give
forth is that of cheer and of hope. They speak alike for the science of to-day
as for that of a century ago, the glorious promise of a reward to be reached
higher even than that sought for; of an end whose realization, only blindly
striven for in the ascending ladders of knowledge, finally fills and illumines
all the subordinate science with a light, a warmth, a beauty inconceivable
before. For all truth is one; and human science on every plane is but the
enfolding of the higher and diviner forms of truth in those which are lower and
more within the grasp of man’s varying intelligence. Every scientific fad and
every true philosophic deduction is a stone laid and a scaffold raised for the
building of that great temple in which humanity is yet to worship its Creator
and its God. Into this natural knowledge, as into “all manner of precious
stones,” the light of Divine revealed truth shall flow; and thus the glory of
God shall lighten the whole domain of the human intellect. The scientists of
to-day, with their careful elaboration of the fads of sensuous knowledge, are
building wiser than they know; their own aims, the particular theories they
seek to establish, are of minor account- they are the baubles placed before the
child to induce it to walk. Even the selfish incentives of pride and glory are
useful in stimulating minds otherwise idle and sluggish to great achievements.
How much more so shall be the sincere love of truth for its own sake, and the
desire of a genuine advancement of humanity which inspire the minds of many of
our greatest thinkers and workers! As in the case of Swedenborg, the Divine
wisdom knows howto use for its own ends, which are the final elevation and
blessing of mankind, these results of human research and study. Not only is
the earth thereby made new, but there are created also new heavens, in which
righteousness shall dwell, and in whose society and kingdom of uses man shall
realize the end of his creation and the true glory of God.
FRANK SEWALL.
Urbana. Ohio, Oft. aat <886.
PREFACE OF THE EDITOR OF THE LATIN
EDITION.
The original manuscript of this posthumous work, which
with two others I was enabled by the liberality of the Royal Academy at
Stockholm to borrow in the year 1848, was thus described by the learned
librarian of that institution :
“This book, which is in Swedenborg’s
own handwriting, contains 130 leaves fol. max. On the back it has the title
(printed by the binder) 'Physio- logica et Metaphysical and it bears the
same title also in the old manuscript catalogue of our library. Folio no is
wanting, which makes it doubtful whether this Dissertation on the State of
the Soul, etc., is complete, or not. For the same reason, the heading and
beginning of the next Dissertation, which is contained on folios in, 112 (page
iv.), are wanting.................................................................... The
re
mainder of this book, from folios 118
to 127 (page xx.) is occupied by a Dissertation which has the title ‘ Ontology
’ prefixed to it, at the head of folio 118. From the commencement of this
Dissertation, certain subjects are considered in general, and are afterwards
treated severally under various heads As
for the manner of treatment, the opinions of Wolf, Baron,
and
others, are for the most part stated first, and the author’s own opinion then
given, or at least intimated. But like many other things contained in
Swedenborg’s MSS., this Ontology is not complete, being only a sketch,
which the author proposed to develop afterwards. The whole book is closely
written, and in some parts in a cramped hand, and will be difficult to read and
decipher.”
According to the vote of our Society (the Swedenborg
Association, founded 1845) which is the patron of these three publications, we
have omitted in the present treatise the attached folios 118-127, inscribed Ontologia.
The chapters of this omitted Dissertation are: (I.) Form, Formal Cause; (II.)
Figure; (III.) Organ, Structure; (IV.) State, Mutations of State; (V.)
Substance; (VI.) Matter, Material; (VII.) Extent, Extension, Continuous,
Contiguous, Part; (VIII.) Body, Corporeal; (IX. Essence, Essentials; (X.)
Attribute; (XI.) Predicate; (XII.) Subject; (XIII.) Affeftion ; (XIV.)
Accidents; (XV.) Contingents; (XVI.) Modes, Modification.
We have given this work the title “On the Soul,”
and also designated it as “ Part VIL of the Animal Kingdom,” because it
forms a supplement to that work, and the Author himself, according to the index
prefixed by him to that work, intended to treat in “ Part XVI., Concerning the
Soul and its State in the Body, its Intercourse, its Affection, its
Immortality; also concerning its State after the life of the body.”
AN
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY ON SCIENCE AND THEO-
LOGY IN THE WRITINGS OF SWEDENBORG.
The one desire and aim manifest throughout all the
scientific and philosophical writings of Swedenborg may be described in brief
as his Search for the Soul.
This is indicated in the fragmentary treatises On The
Soul which frequently occur throughout the series of his works, and is
manifest in the projected scheme of his works outlined in his prologue to the Regnum
Animate. There The Soul forms the last of thegreat series. The
subject is to be approached slowly, by arduous steps; reverently and in awe of
its sublimity, but with eager and never flagging desire.
This desire was executed, to the extent of the
scientific and philosophic resources of human knowledge, in the De Anima,
or Rational Psychology,—the work on The Soul with which Swedenborg
concluded his great career as a scientist, and summed up the results of his
labours in the fields of natural, physiological and psychological science.
In this search for the soul we find what we may call the
key to the genetic development of all of Swedenborg’s system. I say development,
because this implies a unity in what precedes and follows, and a shaping of
final results by certain interior ends, even though these be unconsciously
entertained. The process is like that of nature, which, itself unconscious,
conceals the most profound, definite and unerring purpose.
To know the nature of spirit and its relation to
matter,—but especially through, first, “a knowledge of the soul and of its intercourse
with the body,” was the twofold object of our author’s constant search.
If we now regard the “ body ” in the light of the larger
body, the natural world, and the “soul ” as meaning the larger soul, the spiritual
world, the “knowledge of the soul and its intercourse with the body” becomes
identical with that of the spiritual world and its relation to the natural
world. This occupies a prominent place in his later theological writings.
Where did Swedenborg seek this knowledge of the soul ?
In the soul’s own realm—the Soul-Kingdom, Regnum Animate; in the living,
not dead, human body; in the kingdom of uses as exhibited in the beautiful
order, harmony and activities of the human anatomy and physiology.
The animal kingdom meant to him the kingdom of the anima
the realm over which the soul presides as queen. The relation of this soul
to its body or its own kingdom and world was what Swedenborg sought to know.
The knowledge which he obtained was that which pre-eminently qualified his mind
to be the recipient of the great knowledge of the true nature of spirit, and
the relation of the spiritual to the natural world. Through its influence upon
his contemporary, Kant (see Kant’s Inaugural Dissertation; De Mundo
Sensibili et Mundo Intelligibili; also Professor Vaihinger’s Kant-Conunentar,
vol. ii.; Archiv fur Geschichte der Philosophic, Berlin, 1895; Professor
Heinze’s Observations on Kant’s Leftures on Metaphysics in Abhandl.
Sachs. Gessellsch. der Wissenschaften Leipzig, 1894, etc., etc.),
Swedenborg’s doCtrine of the Two Worlds may be said to have formed the basis of
modern transcendental psychology, or of that phase of modern idealism which
accords to the spiritual and supernatural a substantial and causal existence
distinct from matter.
When, now, we consider what a stupendous role this
doCtrine of the human body and its soul is called upon to perform in the doctrine
of the Divine Humanity, of heaven and of the order prevailing there, we begin
to realize the providential significance of these scientific treatises, and see
in what basic relations these sciences stand to the whole realm of spiritual
doCtrine. And since the body can be studied only in its own environment, or as
a part of that great extended body which is the entire elemental universe,
therefore to this ultimate basis of all extended Swedenborg’s exhaustive
survey and the grasp of his mighty system, as witnessed in the work on Chemistry
(1721) and the Principia (1734).
The doCtrine of Correspondence was derived by Swedenborg
first naturally, that is, as a science; it was a deduction of his own reasoning
regarding the elemental relations of the universe, a part of his own philosophy,
as was the doctrine of Order, Series, Degrees and Modifications on which it
rests. (See An. King, ii., 50, 51, 250.)
This is unmistakably apparent from his own statement,
and from the repeated applications of, and references to, these sciences in his
Animal Kingdom and elsewhere, especially in his Introduction to the Rational
Psyschology, and in that work itself.
The doCtrine of Correspondence became manifest to Swedenborg
in his search for the mode of the soul's intercourse with the body. It was right
here, in the human soul’s own province, in the relation of our souls to our
bodies, that Swedenborg found the key which should solve the problem of the
ages and open our minds to a truly heavenly knowledge of the relation of the
spiritual to the natural world, of spirit to matter, of earth to heaven, of the
Written Word to the eternal and essential truth, and of man to God.
Correspondence in its first sense meant to Swedenborg
the correspondence of the body to its surrounding spheres, and thence of the
soul within to the surrounding body.
The history of the doctrine of Correspondence carries us
back to the origin of philosophy among the Greeks, and especially brings into
prominent notice the relation of Swedenborg and Aristotle. The historic
antecedents of the doftrine of Influx, or the Intercourse of the Soul and Body
Swedenborg himself has outlined in several of his theological works, especially
in his little but wonderful work De Commercio, etc., or the Intercourse
of Soul and Body.
Swedenborg, as no other writer, deserves the proud title
of the Aristotle of modern philosophy; and yet while himself assigning to
Aristotle the highest place in all the line of great teachers, calling him the
“ prince of philosophers,” and by the almost endearing title of “our
philosopher,” he does not hesitate to differ from him on the important question
of the intercourse of mind and matter, on philosophic grounds, and later from
the standpoint of revealed knowledge. The three systems of Psychology which had
chiefly occupied the learned world before his time were represented by the
three philosophers seen by Swedenborg in the spiritual world as related in the
work De Commercio, viz.: Aristotle, Descartes, and Leibnitz. These three
systems sought to explain the relation of mind and matter, that is, to solve
the one great problem which, as we have said, Swedenborg had set before
himself, and to the solution of which the whole philosophical series of his
works is devoted. These three systems are known as those of
I: Physical Influx.
II: Occasional or Spiritual
Influx.
III: Pre-established
Harmony.
These three Swedenborg sought to reconcile by extracting
and combining the gist of truth in each; and the resultant dodtrine he named
the dodlrine of Correspondence, a dodtrine which rests upon the equally
philosophical and scientific dodrine of Series, Orders, Degrees and
Modifications. Correspondence, as seen in the plane of nature, is the mutual
adaptation of inner and outer, higher and lower, grosser or more subtle,
spheres or bodies, so that there may be reception and communication and
transference of motion without commingling or confusion of bodies. It is,
therefore, the name we give to that kind of intercourse which may exist between
things necessarily and perpetually discrete. It is that intercourse which is
not material influx, but a mode or avenue for the influx of force. It is
intercourse by contiguity and not by continuity or confusion of substance.
Such a correspondence in nature is the relation of the
wave of ether and its spiral motion to the eye as the organ of vision; then of
the eye to the sensory fibre within; then of the sensory fibre to the cortical
gland; of the cortical gland to the inner common sensory of the imagination;
of the imagination to the intelledlory; of the intelledlory to the soul; of the
soul to God. By correspondence the inner may affeB the outer without
commingling or becoming one with it. By correspondence things totally
different in degree or substance are nevertheless so adapted that motions in
the tremulous vibrations in one may be continued through the other, and so
cause and effect be made possible by contiguity, since the prolongation of
effect or its retrocession on its own plane never converts it into its own
cause.
This doctrine of correspondence learned by Swedenborg
from the human body and its relation to the soul was afterwards applied by him
to all things material and spiritual, and thus to the natural and spiritual
worlds.
If this be true, what then is “ revealed ” in
Swedenborg’s writings, or what is there that is not after all the outcome of
purely human reasoning and philosophy? Does it follow that what Swedenborg has
delivered in his theological writings as a divinely- revealed science is after
all reducible to a purely natural and scientific knowledge, seeing that in the
doctrines of Degrees and of Correspondence as set forth in the philosophical
works, Swedenborg laid no claim to any supernatural illumination as their
source, and yet on these doctrines rests the whole scheme of the spiritual
meta- shysics embraced in his theological works? The answer to this question is
of the greatest importance, involving as it does the . whole subject of the
relation of Swedenborg’s scientific and philosophical to his theological
writings.
We think it possible to formulate an answer in these
words. It is not the knowledge of Correspondence that is supernatural or revealed,
but the knowledge of the things that correspond ; it is not the knowledge of
Discrete Degrees that is supernatural or revealed, but the knowledge of the
things that compose those degrees. (That the knowledge of Degrees was a
philosophical knowledge, see Animal Kingdom, i., no. io, u, 133; ii.,
no. 333.)
Swedenborg thus speaks of Correspondence after his
illumination. In A.C., no. 1523, he states that
“
The ear corresponds to the air and to sound ; the eye is formed correspondency
to the modifications of the ether and light; and all the organs and viscera
correspond to the things which are in nature.”
In A.C., no. 5131 :
“There
is a correspondence of sensuous things with natural ones ; of material things
with spiritual ones ; of spiritual with celestial ones ; of celestial things
with the Lord ; there is a succession of correspondence from the Divine down to
the ultimate Natural. It is known from philosophy that the end is the first of the cause, and
the cause is the first of the effecff.
“
The effetff must correspond to the cause and the cause must correspond to the
end, and as they correspond, the end can be in the cause and a<ffu-
ate
it, and the cause can be in the effect and adluate it; consequently the end
through the cause can actuate the effedt. Everything in man and nature is
successive, like cause and effedl, and when they thus correspond to each other
they adt as one.”
Compare this doftrine with the scientific statements on
the Intercourse of the Soul with the Body, in the work on The Soul, chap.
xii.
At the close of the philosophical period of Swedenborg’s
writings, the soul, like an undiscovered continent, remained, it is true,
still hidden from his view, but the great ship that was to carry the bold
navigator thither was built and with supreme human skill by his marvelous mind,
secretly guided by the Divine hand; on that ship of the sublime science of
Correspondence, by the favouring winds of heaven he was carried to the great
new world of spiritual substance and spiritual life; thence by the same vehicle
he has made intelligible to us this new and interesting country and enabled us
to read the deep arcana, hitherto hidden but now revealed, which lie equally in
all things of nature and in all things of the Word of God.
That the relation of the scientific to the theological
system is genetic, or that of an orderly growth and development, is perhaps the
most wonderful of all the aspects of Swedenborg’s teachings. It is the most
perfect illustration and corroboration of his wonderful dodlrine of Discrete
Degrees. His science is not theological; his theology is not scientific; and
yet they are related by a perfect correspondence. So far was he opposed to any a
priori system of science, that is, to a science constructed to suit or prop
up some prospective theory of philosophy, that he would not trust to his own
experiments in natural science but used those instead of other accepted
authorities of his time. His inductions were his own ; he pursued his search
according to the “ thread of reason ” {secundum ducem Intelleftum seu pilum
rationis,” Adv. i., p. 7), and reverently shrank from giving the name of
divine revelation to any of these results of his own investigations. That his
science was not only not built with the conscious intention of furnishing a
substructure to his theology, but was in some particulars in actual conflict
with the later teaching from revelation, in those realms where it transcended
nature and presumed to construct a system of spiritual science, is evident
from what the work on The Soul teaches regarding the condition of the
soul after death; as, that it has no particular form, but may assume any form,
or that it may take wings and fly as a bird, or assume any other shape suited
to its imperial and sovereign desire, being free from all limitations of nature
or natural heredity (see The Soul or Rational Psychology, no. 521, 522).
Notice also what he says in this work about the final consummation of the world
and the purging fires which shall finally sever the soul from the last
entanglements of the body. These are instances where his science undertook to
be prophetic. That these predictions were regarded by Swedenborg himself as outside
the realm of pure science, and thus as forming no part of his own system as a
science, is evident from his remark in no. 524 of the same work, “that we
shall probably laugh in the other world at the guesses we have here indulged
in about the future state of the soul.” Had he been the usual sort of natural
philosopher he would have insisted on having his subsequent theological system
harmonize with these predictions. Not so in the case of a veritable seer. When
the curtain fell revealing to his vision the real spiritual world, the world
which is the inner or spiritual world of this human world of ours, he saw the
soul in its truly human aspeCtsand entirely relieved of those habiliments which
it had inherited from pagan philosophers and mediaeval schoolmen. “ Man
after death is a spirit in perfect human form,” he says, “such as it had in
this world.” The “ end of the world,” he tells us now, when speaking as the
inspired interpreter of the holy Word, is the consummation of an age of human
experience introductory to anew spiritual dispensation among mankind. This
blank contradiction of his own statements, written within a space of, say, five
years, is convincing proof that whatever relation exists between his scientific
and theological writings it is a striCtly natural, and not a contrived or
purposed one. Swedenborg neither constructed a science with a view to building
thereon a theology nor did he adapt his theology to a previously constructed
science. Each system stands in its own plane; and the agreement between them is
that of the correspondence which is between things of natural growth, i.
e., the agreement of truth appearing in several planes of divine order. As
the science is not theological so the theology is not scientific. The science
rests on its basis of reason and experiment; the theology on its basis of
revelation in the Word; the two do not agree by fusion, but they do agree by
the correspondence that exists between the discrete degrees of things in their
divine order.
The result of this agreement is that the warfare between
science and religious faith is at an end, as it never could have been except
for this truly wonderful providential reconciliation. In the natural course of
things as they tended, except for this, theology had got so out of touch with
science that men who loved natural truth and sought for a deeper knowledge of
the wonders of nature were almost driven to the rejection of revealed religion.
The only recourse for theology was to lose itself in politics or in sociology
or occultism, and so in the guise of purely natural science still keep its hold
on the attention of men, if even meanwhile it was losinsr their reverence and
their respect. At the same time science might be posing as the sacred vestal in
the temple of truth, and claim to be the only object of real reverence or
worship still left to man. In Swedenborg the normal order and the complete
trine of mental life is restored. Science, Philosophy, Theology; the study of
effects, of causes, of ends; each of these finds itself unhampered by the
cramping of any human system, and at the same time placed in a purely
harmonious relation to the other two. The secret of universality has been
reached, by which principles of the utmost simplicity and clearness open paths
of application to an infinity of details. The earth remains the solid tangible
and durable earth as of old, but it glows with a new light and beauty when seen
through Swedenborg’s lens, sub specie aeternitatis. Heaven^ the mundus
intelligibilis of Kant’s Inaugural Dissertation, is not an unhuman
and unreal world, it is only the one world “ seen with another vision.” Nature,
Spirit, God, are to these respective planes of knowledge and faith the distinCl
but harmonious elements of the trinal unity of the One.
Frank Sewall.
Washington, D. C., December,
1899.
author’s
preface.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE.
It has been my purpose
studiously to investigate the nature of the soul and the body, and their
intercourse; and also the state of the soul in the body, and its state after
the life of the body. But in order to attain the end the means must also be
sought ; and while I was meditating in what way I might proceed, whither I
should look, in what way I must direft my course as to the goal, I at length became
aware that there is no other field of exploration than that of the anatomy of
the organic body of the soul. For in this she disports herself and runs her
course ; and for what she is, in her own field, she must be inquired after in
her own domain.
For this reason I have
treated first of all of the blood and the heart, and at length of the
particular organs and viscera of the body ; then of the cerebrum, the cerebellum,
the medulla oblongata, and medulla spinalis.
Supported by these
investigations I may now make further progress. I have pursued this anatomy
solely for the purpose of discovering the soul. If I shall have furnished
anything of use to the anatomic or medical world it will be gratifying, but
still more so if I shall have thrown any light upon the discovery of the soul.
For the body itself, and especially the human body, and all its organs and
members, are so wonderfully harmonized that nature has here brought together
and infused all her art and science and whatever is inmostly concealed, so that
if one desires to investigate nature here in her supreme and inmost recesses,
he must explore these particulars ; and the longer he lingers the more wonders
and mysteries are brought
to light, and if thrice
the age of Nestor were his, they would still be unexhausted. It is like an
abyss, and only wonder remains at last. Thus in order to explore the soul, I
must unroll these manifold coverings which hide her—as though residing in their
midst—from our view. I must proceed by the analytic way, or from experience to
causes, and through causes to principles ; that is, from posterior to prior.
This and no other way is granted us for the attainment of the science of the
higher grade. As soon as, therefore, by this way, we shall have arrived at
genuine principles, then first may we proceed by the synthetic way, or from
priors to posteriors, which is the way of the soul herself, acting in her own
body. This is the angelic way, for then they see from the prior or first
things, all posterior things as subject to themselves. Therefore, before I
treat of the soul synthetically, or a priori, or from first principles,
it is necessary that I acquire experience and effects by this human or
analytic way through posterior things, or by that ladder which leads us up to those
principles and to that heaven. Hence to mount to the soul is only possible
through those very organs by which she herself descends into the body—thus only
through the anatomy of her body. But still it was not permissible to pass over
from the organic and natural body to the soul, or to the spiritual essence,
which is also immaterial, unless I might first lay down some way which should
lead me thither. Therefore, I have been obliged to work out certain new
doctrines, such as the doctrine of forms, the doctrine of order and degrees,
the doCtrine of correspondences and of representatives, and finally the
doctrine of modifications,—doctrines hitherto unknown ; which are the
companions and leaders without whom we shall attempt this passage in vain.
Concerning these we have written in the Fifth Treatise, or in our Introduction
to a Rational Psychology.
And so now at length we
may treat of the soul from principles, or synthetically. The learned world,
from the earliest ages up to the present time', when that which has been so
long conceived is now to be put forth and born, has laboured constantly after
this attainment to first principles. For this have existed all sciences, both
philosophical and physical ; for this has been tried every experiment which
might afford illustration. Here culminates the desire of the world of
learning, whether it be that we may speak from genuine first principles, and
treat synthetically of posterior things; for such are angelic perfection and
celestial science, and the highest natural science, and such is therefore the
innate ambition of us all; or that we may emulate the integrity of our first
parent, who from prior determined all posterior things, and thus not only saw
universal nature beneath himself but even commanded her as his subject. For it
is the pride of erudition to judge of effects from principles. Hence it appears
how much is involved in attaining to true principles, which can by no means be
done except in so far as these be learned by the posterior way, or that of the
senses, and of the sciences and arts which are human; these, however, are not
of the soul itself, in which, nevertheless, they are all grounded, and from
which they flow.
But the way from
experience, through the sciences both physical and philosophical, to prior
things and principles themselves, is not only an arduous one but most lengthy;
nor is one field only, but many, to be explored. More than the ages of Nestor
are needed; for there will constantly occur such things as will confuse the
mind and persuade it to feel as the sense impresses it. Then it believes it has
grasped a thing accurately because it operates according to the testimony of
the senses, which reasoning is just so full of hypotheses and errours. Nay,
such is the higher nature that it is the more hidden from us in the degree that
we consult the senses. For the sense darkens the mind the more its rays are
concentrated upon it. The senses are themselves as so many shadows, so that it
seems as if the light itself of the sight and of the imagination fled away,
that we may plunge into these shadows; and the shadows become lighter in the
degree that we can dispel the rays [of sense].
For they are, as it were,
of another sphere of light; and thus can the light of [physical] sight and of
intelligence mutually extinguish each other. Wherefore also some of us do not
love the light of wisdom because it dims the light of the imagination,
according to the saying of Plato. Therefore I have laboured with the most
intense desire that I might transcend from the one to the other; and therefore,
kind reader, if you will deign to follow me thus far, I believe that you will
perceive what is the soul, what is its state in the body, and xyhat after the
life of the body. But the path is difficult. Only may my companions not abandon
me midway; but if you will leave me, I pray nevertheless that you will grant me
your favour, and this you will do if you are persuaded that the end before me
is the glory of God and the public good, and nothing whatever
of selfish gain or applause.
Part First
THE SENSES.
I.
The Simple
Fibre, that it is Celestial in its
Nature.
(I.) The successive formation of the blood vessels from the simple fibre
The simplest fibre is the
form of forms, or that which forms the other fibres succeeding in order.
The simplest fibre by its
circumflexion forms a certain perpetually spiral surface or membrane which is
itself the second, the medullary or nervous fibre of the body, and is simply a
little channel constructed from the simplest fibre, but together with the fluid
which permeates it, constituting a fibre.
This fibre, therefore,
because it descends from the prior, or is the prior fibre thus convoluted, and
therefore nothing else than the simple fibre itself, flows by a spiral or
perpetually circular flux.
This fibre, when it falls
into the provinces of the body, again forms a kind of little gland not unlike
the cortical, from which proceeds the bodily fibre, and this forms the little
tunic which infolds the arterial vessels.
The fibre further descends
into the greater arteries, and there also forms glands which again send out
fibres from themselves, and from these'is produced the muscular tunic.
Thus the nervous,
glandular, tendonous, and muscular tunics, with the membranous, constitute the
arteries and veins, all and each being formed of fibres.
Thus the blood vessel is
produced from the simple fibre by continuous derivations.
The arterial vessel can
accordingly be called the third fibre, the medullary fibre the second, and the
simple fibre the first.
In this respeft, also, the
first fibre may be called the first vessel, then the second vessel, and finally
the vessel properly so-called, or the blood vessel.
So with the fluids
themselves that flow through them ; the first vital essence is the supereminent
blood, or that of the supreme degree ;
that which is of the second fibres is the middle or the purer blood ; and that
which is of the arteries is the blood properly so-called, or the red blood.
Therefore is the simple
fibre the proper animal essence,! the form of forms.
(2.) There is nothing else continuous in the whole body ; or its whole form is the simple fibre alone.
All that is continuous in
the body or essentially determined^ that is, formed, is the simple fibre.
For there is nothing in
the medullary fibre but the simple fibre.
There is nothing in the
blood vessel but the medullary fibre.
There is nothing in the
whole body which is not woven together of vessels and fibres.
Even what does not so
appear,—as the tendons, cartilages and bones,—yet this also experience shows
to have been woven from the vessels and fibres originally.
Thus there is nothing in
the entire body but simple fibre, which is its whole form.
Nor does there enter into
it anything continuous or coherent except the simple fibre, the only continuous
substantial.
Arguing further, if the
simple fibre is an animate product from its first essence, it follows that
there is nothing in the entire animal form going to form it but this essence
itself.
The fluids of various
kinds which are in the medullary fibres and in the blood vessels, as the serous
fluids, do not constitute the form, since the forms consist of fibres ; but
these fluids flow within the fibres and vessels.
(3.) If that essence is
the soul, it follows that this alone is what constitutes the form.
(4.) The Simple Fibre is of a celestial nature. What the Body is.
Now, inasmuch as every
part or individual of the first substance is of a celestial form and
corresponds to the substance of heaven or to the first and most universal aura,f
it follows that there is nothing in the simple fibre which is not a celestial
form, and this alone is ruled by spiritual^ forms.
This form, because it is
above other forms, cannot be touched at all by them, still less can it be hurt;
it is most secure from all injury. How can a compound act upon the simples of
which it is compounded ? It is most remote from them, nor are they dependent
upon it.
(5.) This fibre therefore
is not terrestrial, as Aristotle teaches, but of a celestial nature, essence
and form.
(6.) Hence it is immortal,
nor can it perish, because it cannot be touched.
(7.) What is terrestrial
and corporeal is not the fibre, but rather that part of the red blood and of
the middle blood in the globule which serve there for an instrumental cause, in
order that the first essence of the blood may descend in series by successive
derivation and be in the midst of the outmost world ; in a word, that it may
constitute the bloods, in which, nevertheless, that celestial form reigns.
> 'j
(8.) That from which the
bodily blood exists is only corporeal, nor does it contribute anything to form
except that it runs through these fibres and adapts them so that they may enter
into forms.
(9.) This part or this
corporeal is mortal and relapses to earth when the globules of blood are
dissolved ; but not so the fibre, which of itself passes away, while the body
remains under the form of a corpse.
t(io.) Paradox concerning the Simple Fibre.
(ii.) Concerning the Universal
Circulation of the Fluid of the Body, or the Circle of Life. Concerning the Perpetual
Sohition and Composition of the Blood.
(l2.) Concerning Diseases of the Fibres.
(13.) Concerning the Derivation of the Diseases of the Animus into the
Diseases of the Body, and vice versa.
(14.) Concerning the Arachnoid Tunic.
II.
The Senses.
(15.) The external organs of the senses, as the ear and the eye, arc
instruments of the modifications of the air and of the ether, and these
modifications are the principal causes to which as to mediate organs the
sensations exactly correspond.
As to the ear, this is the
instrument which receives the modulations of the air; for it receives and
applies to itself every form and mode of the forces flowing to it. The same is
true of the eye in relation to the ether. The ear in this respedt differs from
a musical or acoustic instrument in that it not only receives but also sends
out and further extends the sounds. So does also the eye differ from optical
instruments. The eye is, indeed, like a camera obscura, which reproduces
most exactly the images transmitted from the object opposed, without changing
them into other forms and other colors. But in the eye these modifications do
not simply pass over to the retina ; the operations of the eye excite the
essential determinations to acting likewise even to the least retina, from
which through the optic nerve the same sight is propagated to the common
sensory. Thus the sensations correspond exactly to the modifications of the
organs. Likewise in taste and smell; for the external form of the parts, which
is generally either round or prickly, affedts the papillae of the tongue or
nostrils; the organ is affedted by these touches, which are innumerable, and
thence a similar sense results.
(r6.) The sensory fibres leading to the common sensory are exactly accommodated
to the form of the modifications flowing in and affecting them ; thus the
sensations flow by a natural spontaneity from the circumfluent world through
the fibres in the animated world even to the Soul.
In the inquiry as to what
is the form of the modifications of the air and of the ether we are led to
conclude from experience that there can be no other modification of form than
that of the form of the parts. For the volume is composed of the parts, and if
the parts are changeable a like condition ought to result in the whole volumen
of what is set in motion as in the single parts, which are so many symbols of
the common motion. The form of the modifications of the ether is spiral or
perpetually circular, and that of the modifications of the air is simply
circular ; for such are the external forms of the parts, as may be demonstrated
by numberless proofs. If it be asked, then, what is the form of the fluxions of
the fibres, it has been proved in the treatise on the Fibres that the form of
the fluxions of each compound fibre is spiral, and that the form of the
fluxions of many fibres taken together is circular; thus the one form exactly
corresponds to the modifications of the ether and the other to the modifications
of the air. But the form of the higher ether is vortical, and this corresponds
to the substantial form of the spiral glandule. Thus when modifications of the
auras flow into the miniature world, or the animal system, they continue their
flow in a similar nature, nor are their essential determinations changed.
(17.) The sensations are carried from the external organs to the internal
organs as if from a heavy to a lighter atmosphere, or from a lower to a higher
region.
Light bodies are raised
from the centre toward the the surface and emerge, but those which are heavy
fall to the centre and seek the bottom. So do sensations strive from the
outermost to the innermost or from the lowest to the highest, while actions
fall from the innermost to the outermost or from the highest to the lowest.
Thus sensations may be compared to the lighter and actions to the heavier
bodies.
The cortical brain holds
the inmost and the highest, for to climb thither is upward, but thence toward
the surface of the body is downward. That the cortex of the brain also occupies
the highest region of the body may appear from the fibres themselves and their
nature ; the most fluid and the softest fibres are near to the cortex or to
their first source ; those more remote from the cortex are harder and more
stationary, and as if being more compressed, when rising to a softer fibre they
rise to the purer region and vice versa ; which also is the reason why
the nerves or the sensory fibres are soft, and the motor fibres are somewhat
harder ; and that the softness increases according to the ascent.
(18.) The sensations do not arrive at any special glandztles or glandular
congeries in the brain but at the universal cortex, so that there is not a
single cortical glandule in the entire brain which does not become a
participant of each sense and of its least movement, degree and difference.
This the anatomy of the
brain declares with sufficient distinctness, for each nerve and each fibre when
it is im- merged in the medullary lake of the brain, so merges itself with all
the neighbouring ones that all differences well nigh disappear. For one fold is
continually connected with another, a certain subtile membrane intervening between
every fibre and every vessel and the one next to it, which membrane joins and
binds fibre to fibre and artery to artery. Those intervening threads in their
being drawn out from the fibre we call the emulous vessels of the fibre. In
these are inserted the most delicate threads drawn from the pia mater. Thus it
may clearly be seen that in the brain, in the cerebellum and in either medulla
there is nothing whatever that is discontinuous or disjoined ; and the
sensation, which is a most subtle kind of trembling of a certain atmosphere, is
not able to press solely upon a single fibre, or any particular fibres, as far
as to their origins, but is compelled also to pursue its journey through all
that is continuous from the fibre ; and this is true as well of the trembling
and vibrations of harder bodies. The same appears from the special investigation
of each sensory fibre ; for the optic nerve diffusing itself in the beds of the
optic nerves cannot help pouring itself upon the entire circuit of the brain,
since the fibres drawn forth from this circuit and concentrated on a firmer
base unite upon the beds of the optic nerves ; and if the sensations follow
the flux of these they cannot but terminate in the common surface of the brain.
The olfactory nerves from the continued pituitary membrane so immerse themselves
in the oval centre or medullar globe of the brain that they have their origins
from all, for the mamillary processes being inflated expand the whole medulla
of the brain. The acoustic or auditory nerves emerging from the annular
protuberance associate themselves with all the fibres which are sent out from
the brain and from the cerebellum. And so in other instances ; wherefore the
ratio of the sensations is the same as that of the modifications : for these
having begun in the least centre diffuse themselves about into the entire
periphery. From these considerations it follows that there is no part of the
cortex which does not become participant and conscious of the inflowing sensation.
(19.) The most distinct sensation exists in the cortex of the brain, especially
the sensation of sight, perception and understanding.
Where the cortical
substances are most delicate and most expanded, there the sensations should be
the more perfect and distinct; for that the cerebrum feels, perceives and
understands, but not the cerebellum, is because the cortical glandules like so
many little sensories are in a state of perceiving modes distinctly. In either
pro- tuberence, or vertex of the brain, that is, in its supreme lobe, this
cortex is distinctly divided ; for an infinite number of fissures and furrows separate
the congeries, by which means the cortex may be expanded and drawn in any
direCtion; so that when the distinction is the more perfeCt, there is also the
more perfeCt sensation. This is the reason, too, why all the convolutions and
bendings of the cortex concentrate themselves in this, or tend hither by a
continuous flux and union. This is observed as well in outward as in inward
intuitions; we even direCt our contemplations toward this prow of the brain.
Also when this is injured the faculty of clearly seeing and perceiving is
changed according to the degree of injury, as appears from various diseases of
the head. Thus sensation belongs, indeed, to every cortical glandule, but it
is more perfeCt in one part of the brain than in another; for in one it is more
particular and single according to the divisions of the brain, while in another
part it is more general, and hence the sensation is more indistinCt and
obscure, as in the lowest layers of the brain and in the cerebellum.
(20.) No cortical glandule in the whole brain is absolutely like another, hence
neither are the little sensories similar to each other, which are so many
cortical glandules: but a certain variety intervenes, which nevertheless is so
harmonious that not the least difference occurs in the mode of any sensation
but what is perceived more perfectly in one glandule than in another.
That there occur infinite
mutations of state, both essential and accidental, of the cortical glandules,
which are so many internal sensories, has been sufficiently demonstrated in
the treatise concerning those glandules. For there are larger and smaller
glandules, harder and softer, consisting of more or of less fibres ; there are
those whose state is more constricted or more expanded, some associate with
more some with less; but to enumerate every difference would be too prolix. The
cortical glandules in the brain are of one kind, those of the cerebellum are of
another, and those of still another in the medulla oblongata and the medulla
spinalis ; also they are of different species in the brain itself, in its
vertex, in its borders, on the outside near to the pia mater, and on the inside
around the ventricles. All the cortical glandules, the beginnings of the
fibres, the little sensories and motors, are internal. Now in order that the
brain may be free to receive all sensations and feel every difference, it is
necessary that there should be order among its sensories. This order must be
wholly harmonious ; even if one glandule receives a purer, another a grosser
mode, nevertheless we must communicate the sign of its sensation to the others
as a part to the whole. This is called the harmonious variety, which is so
proper to nature that it deserves to be called the nature of nature. Such a
variety exists in the particular fibres, in the particular muscles, in the
single parts of the atmosphere. For similarly are the lowest atmospheres more
compressed than the higher, in such a way, nevertheless, that between all there
is a certain harmonious variety. Thus the particulars contribute
each its own part to the common and public estate.
(21.) The sensations diffused throughout the whole brain are to be conceived of
as winding themselves around in a spiral manner, or according to the form of
motion of a circuit and of the cortical substances ; and the purer sensations
revolve v or tic ally through the cortical glandule; hence according to the
most substantial form itself of the sensory organ.
The convolutions of the
cortical glandules in the brain flow into the form of the most perfect spiral;
and because the sensations touch every point, every fibre, and every cortex of
the brain, hence we must conceive of a similar circumvolution and whirling
motion of the sensations ; for then an easy fluxion and propagation of these
proceeds from a part into a whole. In the same manner the modification takes
place in each individual cortical gland, whose form is perpetually spiral or
vortical. For every aftive force impressed upon an organic substance flows and
is determined most exactly according to the form of the latter. To flow
otherwise would be contrary to the stream and current of its nature, or
contrary to the rotation of its axis. Also the sensation circumgyrates by a
similar form when it follows along its fibre, therefore also when it emerges
from it. So are the forms of a fluxion and that of its atmosphere or of its
modifications similar. So do the macrocosm and the microcosm mutually correspond,
and impress the same modes upon each other. Such a whirling motion openly
appears in the external organs also, when the mind is inebriated or the brain
affedled with a like disease or delirium. From these statements it may appear
with what winding about and circumgyrations the inmost sensation or the
understanding is carried on ; the form of whose fluxion is celestial; and
so on.
(22.) We may perceive by ourselves and naturally the harmony and the disharmony
of sensations.
That the soul naturally
apprehends and' is conscious of every thing harmonious or inharmonious which occurs
to any sense, appears from the phenomena of each sense. Harmony of touch in the
outmost skin tickles and excites laughter: harmony of taste and smell flatters
and gratifies the organs in such wise that it creates a pleasure, sweetness
and appetite. Harmony of hearing so pleases the ear that one smiles at what is
heard said : so with harmony of sight, whence is beauty, comeliness and delights.
But disharmonies produce the contrary effedt, for these sadden the soul and the
mind, and induce a certain horror, even hurt, and thence aversions. Even in the
imagination and the thought a similar concord of truths, which are so many
harmonies, is likewise produced by nature herself without science to diredt,
and without art as a mistress. Thence it comes that those whose minds are more
healthy, and who are imbued with some knowledge, apprehend natural truths at
once, and lend them their approval ; but that the same truths are opposed is
the result of a vicious state of their mind. That the soul perceives the harmony
or disharmony of images and ideas at the first glance appears plainly enough in
the brute animals; for birds know of themselves how to ingeniously construdf
their nests, to choose the food most proper for themselves, and to avoid what
is harmful. The spider weaves its web with the most perfedt geometry, not to
speak of other instances which are effedts of a natural perception of
harmonies. Even the organs themselves are not only soothed by harmonies and
pleasant things, but are also restored by them ; while on the contrary they
are injured by those which are inharmonious. The reason is that the soul is
pure intelligence, and is the order and truth of its own microcosm. Hence the
cognition of order and of truth is a faculty born with us, and one that is
rarely learned. Neither can the senses otherwise exist, for in order that
there be a sense there must be the harmonious mixed with the inharmonious; from
the difference of these and their connections and their situation arises
sensation. In the same way, from commingled truths, fallacies, and falsehoods
arise ratiocination, thoughts, discourse, controversy, opinions. Without these
there would be very little speech, and neither schools nor sciences; and the
shelves of the libraries would remain empty.
I
(23.) In the same inmost sensory organ the end of the sensations and the
beginning of the allions meet.
The cortical glandule is
the last boundary where sensations terminate, and the first prison-house whence
the adions break forth ; for the fibres, both sensory and motory, begin and end
in these glandules.
Sensations penetrate from
the outmost to the inmost; but aClions run from the inmost to the outmost. Thus
the cortical gland is as well a little internal sensory as a motory organ, and
both aCtive and passive, as are all the more perfeCt organic substances. To
suffer as well as to aCt is the perfection of natural bodies, whence comes
elasticity, and the forces and powers thence resulting. The superior forms
receive every assailing force, and return a similar. If a comparison be
instituted with the sensories here described, sensation itself is the passion
to which a similar aCtion corresponds. The objeCt of the aCtion may be to
determine what is felt into aCt, or to represent through the aCt the idea
perceived ; for aCtion is the aCtual representation of the idea of the mind.
This is the reason why the perceived idea so quickly breaks forth into aCt, as
in speech. It would be otherwise if both aCtion and passion did not meet in one
and the same organ.
(24.) Intelleftion, which is the ultimate of sensations, does not immediately
turn itself into will, which is the primary of actions, but a certain thought
and judgment intervenes ; thus there are intermediate operations of the mind
which conned the last of the one with the first of the other.
There is a certain
progressive series or gyre as intelleftion passes over into will. Undoubtedly
there intervenes the thought, which is the last involution of things perceived
and understood, and the calling forth of like things from the recess of the
memory. But the judging or judgment is the reduftion of the things thought
into a certain rational form, those things being cast out which have nothing to
do with the matter in question ; at length comes the conclusion and so the
will. The intelleftion itself is the first part of the operations of the
intelleft, the thought is the second part, judging is the third, conclusion is
the fourth. All of these taken together are designated by the one word
“intelleft.” But this gyre is often accomplished with such presence of mind and
velocity that it hardly appears that there are so many intermediate parts
between the first rational perception and the beginnings of aftions. It is
sometimes run through in a single moment. That there is a similar series of
operations in single substances gifted with perfeft elasticity to which the
above might be compared, I do not doubt; it may be that the elatery of nature,
when it is subjected to a force or impetus, resolves and restores itself by
similar intermediate operations to a similar adt, although it may seem to be
instantaneous. But we cannot further enlarge upon the subjedt here.
(25.) There,.,is such a. connection of ' the rational perception or the intellect
'with the will or the beginning of aCtions, that is, of the passion with the
aCtion in one mind, that as the one is so is also the other, or that a mind
deprived of perception is also deprived of will.
The perception of the mind
can be compared with passion, but the will with adtion, hence the perfedt mind
with the perfedt elatery in nature. For it is a faculty of the elatery that its
elastic force is greater as the body is more compressed ; that the elatery is
equal to the compressing force ; that the force of an elastic body is determined
by the adtions of the compressing body ; that the elatery liberated from the
compressing force is restored at once to its former condition ; that the body
in which there is a perfedt elastic force, however much it may be compressed,
loses nothing of its own force but always restores it and puts forth as much as
it has itself suffered, so that a similar force and impetus is diffused into
what is immediately around, and thence into the nearest vicinity, and thence
everywhere ; that in the striking together of elastic bodies the centre of
gravity, before the conflidt and after it, is moved with the same rapidity,
when moved at all, so that in the meeting of elastic bodies the state of the
centre of gravity is preserved ; besides many other things which might be
compared with this organic substance and its rational operation, and might be
explained by correspondences to the apprehension of the intelligent.
In the meanwhile, that the
will is such as is the in- telledt or the perception appears from the phenomena
or the affections of the mind, of the animus, or of the brain. For the will
increases with perception itself in youth's and in adults. When one perishes
the other perishes, for they meet in the same organ. When the brain is injured,
compressed with foreign matter, or disturbed in its order, not only does
sensation become unsteady according to the degree of injury, but also aCtion,
as in loss of memory, in catalepsy, in lethargy, in sleep, and other
conditions. The reason is, that nothing can be carried into the will which does
not come from the perception ; for the will is the conclusion of the thoughts,
and to it belongs the power of aCting in accordance with the ideas of the
thoughts.
(26,) The first perception cannot be at once transferred into thought, still
less into will, unless some force accede which incites and promotes ; and that
without this exciting and promoting force perception would at once be
extinguished, and with the perception the thought, the two going hand in hand.
That the first perception
is a bare interior sensation or mere passion follows quite as well from
description as from reflection ; for that the images of sight pass over through
the eye and the fibres of its nerve to a common sensory or a certain interior
sensation, is what is experienced, whenever the eyes are opened. It is the.
same with sound and its modulations in the air, with taste, in the tongue, and
smelling in the nostrils, and touch in the body. But in order that this perception
may become a sepsation interior still, and that the rational sensation which is
called intelleCtion may pass over into thought and from this stage into
will,—this cannot take place without some accessory and stimulating force. What
these forces are which are here added, I will proceed to state.
(27)
The first force is the harmony itself
and the pleasure and sweetness thence proceeding, which is perceived in the
external and internal sensory organs at the first impression of an object, and
which so affeEls the animus and mind,
and vivifies the perception that this cannot help being continued even into the
will.
These fa (Sts are clear in
themselves. For what is beautiful and comely at once affects the eye or
internal sight with a certain latent pleasure. At the harmony of similar
sounds, as also the sweetness of taste and odour, and even the blandishments of
touch, the mind is immediately pleased, wherefore its perception is not quiet,
but is at that moment actuated, and calls forth from the inmost of the memory
similar ideas, whence comes thought; and this is followed by will.
(28.) Another force is the love of self-preservation or the love of self which
kindles the internal sensations, or, from the first perception even to the
last, excites these sensations into the beginning of action ; and without the
accession of such a force our intellect would be deprived of its life, and
would languish away.
If we examine interiorly
the natural harmonies themselves which are first perceived in the sensory organs
of the body, it will appear that these are so many conservative forces of the
body: for not only do they afford blandishments to the sense, but also they
restore whatever is defective in them, as may be demonstrated from many
phenomena. For harmonies revive the soul; the vernal greenness and various hues
of the meadows restore the sight, because these exhilarate the arimus. So also
symmetries affedt the hearing. But the contrary things offend and bring injury
; hence the body suffers, and the animus grieves. It follows from this that
there is a certain impelling and adtive force in the natural harmonies,
because they contribute to the preservation of the body. The love of self is
the first of all the loves of the soul, of the desires of the mind, and of the
cupidities of the body. All desires of ends proceed thence as though from their
source. There are also loves diverted as streams from this source, which are
excited by particular perceptions. These are doubtless so many forces, lives,
or heats, which vivify the operations of the mind, and excite them even to
adtion. This is the reason why each one is strong from his own loves and
desires, and each one lives from his own life; and that those who are deprived
of such loves and desires are also dull of disposition, stupid, and dry stocks,
possessing without doubt a spirit and a blood equally cold and sluggish.
(29.) From these loves are born the desires of some end, which desires are the
forces themselves present in the intellect and in the will.
There is no intelledl or
rational perception, and therefore no thought or judgment, and still less a
will which goes hand in hand with perception, without the intuition and desire
of a certain end. Without this, or without an end, the will is never determined
into adt. Wherefore, in order that there be a will, it is necessary that there
be in it an end which the mind contemplates. But there are superior and
inferior ends. The superior ends are those only of the human mind, nor do they
look solely to the preservation of the body or of self; but they regard the
preservation of that society of which the mind forms a part,
I
22 .
; . TH£
and many other things
beside; In place of these rational ends there are with beasts corporeal ends,
the desires of which are called lusts and pleasures. These ends are solely for
the sake of self-preservation, it may be of the body simply. Such an end,
because it does not descend from a certain source and principle of reason,
prefers the preservation of self to the preservation of society as a whole. But
we shall treat of these ends hereafter, when treating of the animus and the
mind.
(30.) There is nothing innate in the human mind except a perception of order
and of harmonies and of truths
>. in forms and in
substances, in forces and in modes ;
: by 'which the
rational mind is affected in so far as
they concern the
preservation of self. But other things, even the forms themselves, the
substances, the forces, the modes, the truths, are to be learned ... by. the
aid of the senses; whence come discipline and the arts. It is otherwise in the
brute animals.
It has been shown above
that the harmonies themselves are innate with us, or that we perceive
them,without ,a teac-heras the sweetnesses of taste and smell, the symmetries
of sound, the excellencies and . beauties of nature ; in a word, the very order
of things or the harmony! ,:of modes, forces, substances, and forms. Thence
also we may perceive the very truths of things, for these correspond .to the
order itself in nature; and this is the reason why order is called “the
transcendental truth.’'* This we clearly perceive in our intellect; for we
seize truths as it were at their bare assertion without any demonstration ;
and therefore some persons are said to have in them, as innate, the seeds of
virtue and of beauty. But the form itself and the perfection of the form are
. ! 13*
jCdrrqStvre Kant's Cosmology in the Dialectic of the Pure Reason. [7r.
different things. By way
of the senses and of discipline we have to procure for ourselves,
scientifically and experimentally, the form, but not the very harmony itself
and the order itself of the determinations in the form. The harmony and the
order are natural, because they agree with the form itself of our organic
substances and of their sensations and perceptions, and thus they allure them
that they may soften, titillate, and pleasantly affedt them ; but the form
itself thence resulting is something to be acquired. This is why the dispute
has arisen among the learned whether ideas are innate in us or altogether
acquired. The same also is proved by the refledtion of our own thought,
imagination and speech ; for in order that there may be thought and speech an
infinite number of things are requisite, which concern order alone, and this order
is so stridfly observed and maintained by children that the entire Peripatetic
and Pythagorean schools could not in ten years reduce to rules and sciences
what this or that boy brings forth naturally and of himself in less than a
moment’s time. We also assent to truths themselves without any demonstration a
posteriori, at their very first announcement, in so far as there is in them
a natural harmony and one that gratefully affedts the mind. Besides the
harmonies, the order, and the naturally implanted truth, there are also loves
which all proceed from the love of self, although it is from dodtrine alone
that it can be known whence these loves proceed, and of what quality they are.
But it is otherwise with the brute animals. In these there are still more possessions
which are innate, be it single ideas themselves, or forms, modifications, and
so on ; for they are born into their sensations, perceptions and wills; and
they stand alone as soon as they are put forth from the womb or the egg.
(31.) The external senses are very obtuse, gross, and feeble, and thence
fallacious, so that they deceive the internal senses themselves in innumerable
phenomena taken for truths and appearing to be truths. This is because these
internal senses penetrate rather into the causes and principles of things.
Wherefore the science of the senses is purely animal; but not such is the
science which is rational and truly human.
There is indeed no other
way of knowing and of understanding given us than by the sensations or by
experience, that is, by the posterior which is called the analytical way. For
our sensations are perfected first, then the internal perceptions, and finally
the intellect; the judgment, or the knowledges of the true end, do not come
until late, and in adult life ; and because this way is natural and alone
permitted, we have to depend upon our observing and collecting of experiments
and phenomena of nature. Thus the optic science is most familiar with the
organism of the eye and still knows no rules except those derived from science
cultivated by experiment; so with the acoustics of the ear. The very truths,
causes, and principles of natural things, yea, even of moral things, must be
learned the same way. Although we may be pleased when objects present themselves
to us, still we do not know them any more interiorly than we do the beauty
itself of a flower conspicuous for the fair mingling of its colours and
symmetry of its parts. For in the blooming rose we of ourselves perceive
nothing except the beauty, the order and the truth ; the form itself, what is
its colour, what the relation and position of its parts,—this it is not
possible to explore without the experience of the senses. For the soul itself,
which alone understands the objeCts presented to the senses, is itself order,
law, and truth ; thence whatever is agreeable to its reason pleases it, while
other things it shuns and abhors.
But that there are
infinite things which to the senses appear to be that which they are not, may
be seen sufficiently from examples. For instance, it is an appearance that the
sun, stars, and planets are little molecules instead of earths as large as ours
; that we are absolutely at rest although our terrestrial globe rotates and
revolves around the sun ; just as it is in a ship in which we seem to be at
rest although within an hour we may be borne away under full sail some miles
from the port. It appears as if the antipodes could not possibly stand on
their feet; as if the blood did not circulate ; as if the cerebrum did not animate
; and as if the ventricle did not have a peristaltic motion. It does not appear
to the senses that a certain fluid flows very swiftly through the least fibres
; or that the atmospheres are divided into parts, since they seem to be like
waters, either continuous or as nothing. It also seems to the senses as if
there were an attraction, a vacuum, a single atmosphere, and as if the ray were
an atom ; as if there were no substance; as if a body very swiftly moved were
continuous ; as if providence, fate, and fortune are mere happenings of
accident ; as if insanity were wisdom, fallacy truth, the becoming equally
with the unbecoming honesty, and vice virtue ; as if license were free will,
pleasures and allurements of the senses the highest felicity and greatest good.
It appears as if art were more ingenious than nature ; as if philosophers were
possessed of a better common sense than the plebeian world ; and as if they
were the wise who talk more elegantly and are skilled in languages, and mingle
their sharper criticisms, or else who keep silence, or express only half the
meaning of what is to be understood ; as if we were to estimate people
according to the opinion of others whom we believe to be possessed of
judgment. Infinitely more things occur in the discriminations of the true and
the false, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the becoming. These very
discriminations, which do not appear to the senses, we believe to be naught so
long as they are concealed, be they in reality ever so numerous and striking in
form. So in other instances.
From these things we may
conclude that if we have faith in our senses only, we shall be more like
animals than rational beings, for the brute animals are easily deceived by
fallacious visions or by appearances; and that, therefore, in the degree that
we are the more rational, or the more truly men, in that degree we shall dispel
the clouds and fallacies of the senses and penetrate clearly into truths
themselves, or enter into causes and principles ; and the same faith we shall
deny to our body, that is, we shall withdraw ourselves from the shadows of its
sensations. Therefore it is not for man to become wise by means of the senses
or experience alone.
(32.) The soul concurs 'with every sensation, perception, and intellection, but
so sublimely, universally, and secretly, that we can scarcely learn what flows
from the soul, and what from the body.
For the senses are what
inform the mind, in order that the rational may hear ; since without the
experience of the senses we can understand nothing. But that we are able to
understand, yea, even the power and faculty of understanding, and of reducing
the several ideas to their order, is not a. property of the body or of the
external senses, but is of the soul. The soul may be compared with the. light
which surrounds the eye ; without the light there could be no discrimination
whatever between the less luminous and the shady, between those differences in
objects whence arise colours and forms. So is the soul that which pours in a
certain light in order that verities may appear as verities ; while the
sensations, on the other hand, add certain doubtful phenomena, which, as it
were, cast a shadow on the verities; thence arise ideas and truths mixed with
falsities ; and from these again, opinions,
hypotheses, conjectures,
discussion, discourse, and speech. If the bare verities shone forth
[unobscured] there would be no reason and no ratiocination ; for no one could
help acknowledging what another said, and thus one would feel and think just as
the other. Such a state would be a most perfeCt one, like that of those souls
whose speech is direCted solely to the praise and glory of their deity. In
order, therefore, that there may exist a society of bodies, it is necessary
that our intelligence be mixed and not pure. But we will treat of this more at
length when we treat of the intellect.
(33) The causes of both the external and internal sensations flow universally
from hence, that the soul is conscious of something that agrees or disagrees
with itself: a certain body soothes or aids it, another pains or injures it;
the one pleases, the other displeases ; by these it is delighted, by those
grieved. Thus all the senses flow from the cause of selfpreservation, and the
more interior ones from the love of self .
The truth of this
proposition appears from examination of the phenomena of the several senses. In
the taste we observe the pungent properties, such as those of the saline
acid, of urinous and other prickly
substances ; and also those which soothe, such as the sugary and sweet; those
injure, these delight. From the mixture of the prickly and the rotund arises
the bitter, the sweetness of wines, and many such flavours. Thence comes so
great variety. The same holds true of the sense of smell, for this sense takes
in a similar variety of parts even more subtle [than those above mentioned],
which fly and flow about in the atmosphere. The hearing is a sense still more
sublime ; for this perceives only the harmonies and disharmonies of the modules
of the air; those which are natural and in agreement are
soothing; those which disagree, such as the disharmonies, produce pain.
Likewise the sight, whose objects are the modifications of the ether or of the
superior atmosphere. These senses come nearer to the nature of the soul. They
recede as it were from bodily things ; they insinuate themselves as mediators
and messengers into the spiritual. The internal senses, such as the perceptions
and intellections, likewise [exhibit this law] ; for whatever agrees with their
nature and order pleases, and that which disagrees displeases ; and because
natures are dissimilar, therefore, in order that the nature of one may never be
absolutely the same as the nature of another,—and indeed, natures in themselves
perfect are easily perverted by the errors and the fallacies of the senses,—
it comes to pass that what pleases one person displeases another. Still, all
the senses flow universally from the cause of the preservation of one’s state
and order. For the soul has provided its body with sensations that it may know
whatever touches its surroundings, in order that it may be informed most
particularly about every change of the state of its body, which it desires to
preserve. But the internal senses flow from the love of self, for love is spiritual
even as the soul itself is, and from this cause it seeks praise, glory, a life
of fame, felicity in the body and after the death of the body; by the love of
all of these things it is led. These things gratify the mind or are most
grateful to the inmost senses, and chiefly flatter them.
(34.) In the degree
that forms are the more perfell they are the more grateful and pleasing to the
senses, and vice versa.
In taste
and smell all angular* forms are harsh and displeasing, unless the angles are
so disposed that they may represent some more perfect form and
excite some sense which the mind judges to be conformable and adapted to
restoring the state of the body. This is the reason why the salty and the
bitter often give pleasure, and the sweet and the aromatic displeasure. But the
more perfect forms, such as the circular and spherical, which are next to the
angular in perfection, and those still more perfect, naturally please because
they are soothing ; as, for instance, the sweet and sugary substances. The
forms which affeCt the hearing are chiefly circular, for such are the forms of
the modifications or of the fluxions of the particles of the air. These as
they more nearly approach the circular forms are in that degree the more
harmonious and grateful. Still more delightful do they become as they approach
the perpetually circular or the spiral form, such as the form of the
modifications of the ether, or of vision. But in the degree that they depart
from these harmonies or approach the angular forms so that they become sharp,
prickly, in a word, not rounded, just so far do they become disagreeable.
Likewise with the sight: as its forms or those of its images become in and
among themselves more perfe&ly spiral, and in this way mingled as to light
and shade, so are they the more grateful; and, indeed, most so as they approach
the forms of the higher or interior sense, namely, that which is perpetually
spiral, the vortical. Then succeed the superior forms, such as the celestial and
spiritual, in which each part is as it were perpetual, and every thing angular
is cut off and removed. Thus every organ has its own form, which looks up to a
superior and is related to an inferior one ; and of every form there are
infinite changes of state, and hence arise the infinite
varieties of sensation.
(35.) The Touch is the lowest and truly corporeal sense, whose innumerable
organic substances are spread over the entire cuticle and surface of the body,
and taken together constitute the organ of Touch.
Under the skin, within
minute folds, as in their own beds there lie concealed molecular papillae of
pyramidal shape, protected by the epidermis; they exist in such numbers that
they may be found scattered throughout the entire cutaneous covering of the
body; and not a point exists anywhere which these do not partially occupy on
the surface ; and when they apply themselves to receiving a sense, they as it
were fill [that point], for they can be contracted and expanded ; thence they
can draw themselves in or out, and so render the entire skin sensible with
themselves. Thus the organ of touch is not a continuous one, but concrete, made
up of an infinite number. For every thing continuous is contrary to nature,
since nature is more perfeCt in the degree that she is more distinCt and
singular in her produCts and compositions. For in the smallest particular
nature lies hidden and thrives as if left to herself; but not in those concrete
things in which her order, form and harmony perishes.
(36.) The perfection of
the sensation of Touch depends on the quantity, quality, position and
connection of those organs, that is, on the particular form of each and the
general form of all together, as also on a certain variety, since no one is
absolutely like another ; just as is the case with the perfection of the
cortical glands, to ivhich these things of the body correspond.
For the papillae, or those
organic substances of touch, are very soft, and are accommodated to every
tactile force, and they withdraw into themselves as soon as touched by anything
that injures or offends, but extend themselves when they are excited and
pleased with the round forms. Hence they ereCt themselves or become relaxed
exactly according to the qualities of the shock they receive. As regards the
quantity, the more they are in number the more minute discriminations and the
more subtle distinctions they recognize. As to quality, the softer they are
the more applicable to every taCtile force, hence the more sensible they are.
Their perfection, therefore, consists in their faculty of changing their
states, and of applying themselves to the forms of bodies with which they come
in contaCi. For this reason they are moist, and furnished with a constant very
slight humour as of a medullous nature, and there are glands from which
corporeal fibres proceed, continually imbibing and transmitting this humour
from the surrounding air. As to their situation and connection, or their
particular and general form, so far as they are more perfeCt in themselves so
much the more powerful are they in producing or seizing the sense ; but the
bare power of individuals cannot produce the effeCts unless all in which there
is a similar power conspire to the same effeCt. And in order that they may conspire,
a positive and mutual connection in requisite, whence may proceed an order and
regard for the whole, so that, for instance, one may regard the other as the
companion of its own sense. So the entire form will concur with the particular
form or the form of each one. This is the reason why, where the sense is most
acute, as in the fingers of the hand and the toes of the foot and near the
nails, the ridges [of the skin] lie in a spiral direction, and that they do nor
stretch upward but are extended lengthwise, and thus by their greater
conformity bear mutual aid. As to their variety, however,—as for instance that
no one of them is precisely like another,—this is evident from the difference
in the sensations of touch; for the mind at once perceives these wherever the
touch occurs. For the sensation is more dull or it may be more acute in the
hollow of the hand or of the foot or of the finger than on the back, on the
side than on the breast, on the neck than on the head. This variety, in order
that the sense may be most perfect, will be an harmonious one, such indeed that
the variety of the one may correspond to the variety of the other, or that a
common harmony may result from the variety in particulars ; like that of the
cortical glands, of which we have treated.
(37.) The organs of the sensation of Touch correspond to their cortical
glandules in the spinal medulla and the oblongata, as also to their cortical
glandules in the covering of the brain.
That the papillae, which
are the organic substances of touch, correspond with the cortical glandules of
the medulla spinalis and oblongata as with those of the brain itself, appears
very plainly from anatomy as inwardly examined. For the papillae are those
extremities of the nerves or fibres complicated into such organic forms; since
there are infinite' fibres running to the skin and there branching out, as
appears especially from the bodies of infants. And since each fibre derives its
origin from a certain cortical glandule of its own in the medulla spinalis or
oblongata, it necessarily follows that each papilla refers to its own gland as
to its proper parent. Every sensation creeps along, following the extension of
its nerve or fibre, to find the beginning of it, and does not terminate except
in this origin or in the corresponding gland ; thence it follows along the
whole axis or medulla spinalis and emerges even at the cortical covering of the
brain. For the sense, as was shown above, is diffused not to one gland alone
but from one into all the glands. Thus is the brain rendered a participator in
every sensation, and so can judge of their differences.
There seems, moreover, to
intervene also another and more immediate communication of the papillae of the
touch with the cortical glands of the brain, besides that which we have named,
which is rather a mediate one. For it can be demonstrated that these organic
papillae are so many glands which imbibe a most subtle humour from the
circumfluent air and ether, and carry the same by their emissaries even to the
cortex of the brain. I have called these emissaries the emulous vessels of the
fibre, or corporeal fibres, which weave together the inmost tunic of the
arteries, and at length terminate in the cortical glands. To these they carry
and supply this purest humour from which is elaborated the animal spirit. In
this manner these papillae, which are thus so many glands corresponding to the
cortical glands of the brain, communicate with the corticous surrounding of
the brain, whence comes the sensation of touch.
I wish also to add that
these papillae or glands which furnish the sole of the foot with its acute
sense of touch seem to be composed of those fibres of the brain itself which
flow along the whole length of the medulla spinalis, even to its extremity,
and finally go into the nerves ; so that the sense of touch in the sole of the
foot communicates more immediately with the brain than that of other parts of
the body ; wherefore this has a more acute sense than other parts, and a change
of its state is at once carried to the brain ; and thus, also, in the bodily
system are first and last things united.
Whatever strikes a fibre
runs to the beginning of the fibre, and as it were announces the change made in
it. For every sense emerges or is elevated, as if from the heavier to the
lighter, in being elevated to its origin. The origin itself is the cortical
gland : for whether it be one of the brain or of the cerebellum or any gland of
the medulla oblongata or medulla spinalis, there is a likeness of the gland in
every minute portion of the fibre, just as there is a likeness of the heart in
every particle of an artery. So is there a gland present, serving as a beginning,
in every least part of its fibre ; wherefore each part is rendered conscious of
a change. There is nothing organic in the whole body which is not constructed
from fibre and vessel; the fibre itself is the producer and the formative
substance of the vessel: whence it follows that nothing changeable can exist in
the whole bodily system as formed of fibres only of which the cortical gland or
its soul may not be rendered conscious. But the cortical glands perceive
otherwise than do the medulla spinalis and medulla oblongata, and those of the
cerebellum otherwise than those of the cerebrum: the former perceive in a
general and obscure manner, but these particularly and distinctly. Thence
arises a sense which does not reach the consciousness of our intellectual mind.
The cortex of the brain must be reached most particularly if it is to
perceive
differences. From this it follows that unless the brain be affected in
particular we cannot be rendered conscious of changes. The sense of touch
affeCts the cortex of the brain both mediately and immediately, as already
indicated ; likewise the sense of taste, of which presently. It is also evident
from the mammillary process, which is affixed to the brain itself, that the
sense of smell likewise affeCts it. The sight extends directly into the
cerebrum by the optic nerve. Seeing, therefore, that the soul becomes conscious
of all the changes of its body, and that sensation .is passion, to which there
is a correspondent action, it thence necessarily follows that the soul concurs
with every change ; for as it suffers so also it aCts. Its natural force is
such that the organism, the order, harmony, and form, which it has constructed
it also preserves and protects ; for the organs subsist from the same source
from which they exist; they even subsist in the same manner. For the soul
remains in a perpetual state of formation ; and what has been formed it
regards as to be formed, and that which is to be formed as formed already. _
(39.) The Taste is a superior sense of touch, and discerns those figured parts
or angular forms which are more simple, and which flow in a certain liquid.
In the tongue are
contained papillae almost similar to those above described among the pores of
the skin ; but there is observed a threefold difference. Under the skin of the
tongue itself, and under a certain nervous membrane, they lie concealed, but
they stretch forth and reach out when the appetite is excited, and the mind
desires to perceive the quality of meats and drinks. This is the reason why in
the dead they are withdrawn and hidden. The outermost sheath is netted,
pervious, and full of holes, in order that the parts which press and are rolled
upon the tongue may be able at once with their points and corners to meet the
membranes and little extended tongues of the papillae. This effect could not be
produced unless the particulars which are to be discerned by the taste should
be in solution, and flow in some liquid. This is the reason why the tongue
itself and the neighbouring glands, as those of the whole mouth, or of the
jaws and palate, pour forth a kind of saliva. For the dry tongue posesses only
a dull and feeble sense, very much such as that of the touch only. That the
sense of taste is a superior sense of touch appears from this, that the touch
cannot be so far perfected that it can perceive the effluvia floating in moist
places, and their little points, still less the order and arrangement of the
angles among
themselves
and as mixed with the rounded surfaces. For there are degrees of the angular
parts or forms, as of the more or less composite or simple. Those which are composite
are of that inferior, posterior and imperfect kind which the touch perceives;
while the taste perceives those which are more simple, prior, superior and more
perfect. But in general, it is to be observed that the three senses, touch,
taste, and smell, do not take in anything more than the figures of the parts
or of the angular forms, that is, of the inert and heavy; they do not take in
the forms themselves and their essential determinations, as do the sight and
hearing. .
{40.) The sense of Taste is intermediate and truly corporeal; its innumerable
organic substances are > dispersed throughout the entire tongue, and taken
together, constitute the organ of Taste;
as asserted and shown
above concerning the touch : for papillae of diverse forms are scattered
through the entire tongue and over its surface; but nevertheless, when taken
together, these form but one organ and one sense.
(41.) The perfection of the sensation of Taste depends upon the quantity,
quality, situation, and mutual connection of those organs, that is, upon the
particular form of each and the general form of all, as also upon a certain
variety which must be called harmonious ;
just as said above
concerning the sense of touch. The same law belongs to both. For the objects of
both are figured corpuscles, hard and inert, but those which affeft the sense
of taste are the simpler or less composite of the same kind, or of the angular
bodies. As regards the variety of those organs, they are of a triple
composition and nature : the more numerous, the softer, and more perfect are
in the apex of the tongue ; then those which are in the sides ; then the more
coarse and imperfect about the root of the tongue : thus there is a harmonious
variety and difference of all. For the perfection of similar organs in the same
tongue increases and decreases, so that there is nothing whose figures may not
be detected by this sense.
(42.) The sense of Taste, just
as the sense of touch, refers itself mediately and immediately to the cerebrum
as its common sensory; immediately by the nerve of the fifth pair, which is the
common nerve of the organ of the senses arising from the medulla of the
cerebrum itself.
We must distinguish
whether the taste arises from the nerve of the ninth pair or from that of the
fifth pair, for everywhere it approaches and enters the tongue together with
the nerve of the par vagum : but because the tongue is not only muscular and
filled with motor nerves but also papillous and sensative; and because the
fibres of the said nerves are wonderfully folded together in the tongue, so
that it is difficult to know the office of each one; therefore we must explore
the subjeCl by the aid of other signs which may reveal the truth. It has
elsewhere been observed that the nerve of the ninth pair is the speaking or
locutory nerve, and that the nerve of the eighth pair the masticating nerve,
and the nerve of the fifth pair the sensory nerve. So far as regards further
the nerve of the fifth pair, it is the common nerve emerging from the annular
protuberance in which are concentrated the fibres both of the cerebellum and of
the cerebrum. This nerve is both soft and hard, according to the observations
of Ridley, therefore both a sensor and motor nerve, as is the nerve of the seventh pair or that of the hearing. Besides, it enters the several
organs of the senses, the sight, hearing, smell and taste ; thus it seems to
serve the same use in the head which is served by the intercostal nerve in the
cerebrum ; as that, in other words, unites in its own mode the several senses,
so this unites the several adtions or muscles. It may be demonstrated from
anatomy that the universal nerve of the senses is one which arises immediately
from the cerebrum, just as that the universal nerve of the natural motions of
the body, or the intercostal nerve, as also the nervus vagus, arises from the
cerebellum. Moreover, many phenomena prove the nerve of the ninth pair to be
the speaking nerve, or that of the muscles by the aid of which the tongue
speaks, thus so far as the nerve of the fifth pair is continued from the
medulla of the cerebrum or arises from its cortex, it follows that all the
differences of touch in the tongue may be perceived in the cerebrum. It would
be otherwise if there were no immediate communication with the cerebrum.
VI.
{43.) The sense of Smell is a still higher sense of touch, and discerns those
figured farts or external angular forms which are still more simple, and which
float and are borne about in the aerial atmosphere.
The organs of the sense of
smell are scattered through the whole pituitary or mucous membrane, which lines
not only the cavities of the nose but at the same time covers the walls of many
of the cellules. Besides the cavities of the nostrils there are also the
frontal sinuses, cut out between the tables of the frontal bone, as also the
antra of Highmore, in the upper jaw ; then the cellules of the cuneiform bone
; and besides, there are caverns and spongy and labyrinthine spaces, which all
communicate with the nostrils and are covered with a common membrane and
periosteum. Through this membrane in the head and the widest spaces there creep
myriads of vessels, and glandular and round corpuscles are interwoven in great
numbers. There are six cavities of the sinuses and four cellules of the
spongious bones, which communicate with each other, and are furnished and
filled with similar organs or glands. This whole expanse derives its origin
from the olfactory nerves ; these nerves, called otherwise the mammillary
processes, affixed to the anterior part of the brain, are attenuated around the
ethmoidal crest, and are transmitted by certain perforated lamina called the
cribriform or cribrous plate. It accompanies these fibres outward also, even
beyond the meninx, both the pia and the dura, together with certain arterial
and venous vessels. From the description of the expansion and connexion of
this organ it is evident that it possesses a sense still more subtle, or of
parts more simple, than does the taste. For those things which float about in
the air are lighter and more and more volatile than those which are in the
water and liquids which affeft the taste. For in order that the taste may
distinguish the figuration of parts it is necessary that the compounds be
dissolved ; but that the smell may perceive this it is not necessary that they
be dissolved, but the very effluvia even from the bodies whether of animals or
vegetables, as also those exhaled from minerals, are perceived [by this sense].
Thence are taken up those [particles] which do not permanently adhere to
bodies, but which spontaneously are separated from them and fly about in the
air. The effluvia of the animal kingdom are so copious that by the sense of
smell alone dogs know their master from other men, and can trace out and hunt
for animals. Still more copious and sensible are the effluvia of the vegetable
kingdom, as the odours from gardens and fields. In the mineral kingdom, while
many objects are inodorous, there are yet many which in a liquid form excite
this sense. Hence the smell appears to distinguish parts more simple than those
detected by the taste. But nevertheless, the forms here are angular, in
themselves heavy, inert, hard, figured, truly corporeal and material.
(44-) The senses of Touch, Taste, and Smell perceive only external forms, but
not internal forms, as do the senses of Hearing and of Sight.
The external form or
figure of the parts, the angularity, pointedness, planeness, roundness, is
perceived by the organs of the touch, taste, and smell, but not their quality
or internal forms ; for only the parts along the surface affedt the papillae.
And because these are inert and hard they cannot be explored by these organs as
to their internal structure, which is the reason why we judge of them from the
taste and odour only, and may not know whether they are wholesome or not. Thus
arsenic and poisonous substances may deceive by their sugary sweetness. Their
internal quality can be learned only from their effects ; from which knowledge
comes the chemical and medical art. But it is otherwise with the hearing and
the sight: by these senses the internal forms themselves are apprehended, but
not the external forms ; for these are modifications and fluxions which affect
the organ according to their essential determinations ; wherefore the law of
the sense of hearing and sight is entirely different from that of the smell,
taste and touch.
(45.) The sense of Smell affedts the whole brain, every medullary substance of
it immediately, and mediately the cortical substance; and the brain, whose
form is harmonious, shuns whatever is contrary to harmony and seeks what is
conformable to it.
The sense of smell
insinuates itself immediately into the whole medullary substance of the brain,
and by this diffuses itself; for as soon as the fibre of its sensory penetrates
the cribrous lamina it is diffused into the mammillary process which arises
close to the corpora striata, and carries its roots here and there through the
whole medulla ; for these processes in the niduli cavi when they are inflated
expand the medullary substance and keep it swollen. The roots seem to be not so
widely scattered in the human brains as in the brains of the irrational
animals, lest, it may be, the odours should disturb the reasonings and
judgments of the human mind by inducing so frequent changes in it. In so far as
the smell is extended through the whole brain, it follows that every thing
which injures the harmony of its parts and substances the mind is averse to,
and feels to be disagreeable and offensive, while other things are conformable.
The most perfect form itself is that of the brain, namely, the spiral. Into
this flow its cortical substances, and nearest these the fibres which thence
arise; whatever, therefore, is inharmonious must disagree, whether it exists at
once or successively. For that which is harmonious in itself does not tolerate
the inharmonious, but perceives at once what it is which is repugnant to itself
and to the order of its individual parts. Thus the smell appears to affedt only
the general form of the brain, but not the particular form of each glandule.
(46.) The brain or common sensory is not affected by the
sense of Smell except when its fibres are in their diastole or expansion. ■
The whole medullous brain,
or a single fibre of it, is expanded whenever the lungs are expanded, that is,
whenever the air is drawn in ; for the motions of the brain and of the lungs
are synchronous. In every general expansion of the brain all its fibres are
restored from their most compressed position into their natural or harmonious
situation; 'therefore it is then only that the smell is experienced, as may be
perceived by us when drawing in the breath. Moreover, the sense of smell
returns when after sneezing the medullous brain is restored to its natural
condition as to the fibres, that is, when there is no longer anything to
prevent the fibres and glandules from being held distinctly apart.
(47-) Similar things to those observed in touch and taste are also to be
observed in the sense of Smell.
For example, the organic
substances of this sense are innumerable, and disposed throughout the entire
pituitary membrane, and, taken together, they constitute the organ of smell; the
perfection of the sensation of smell depends also upon the quantity, the
quality, the situation, and mutual connection of these organs or glandules,
that is, upon the particular form of each and the common form of all, as,
again, upon a certain variety, which is to be called harmonic. The reason is,
because so many objeCts of the sense of smell are similar to those of the taste
; for instance, as being figured, inert, saline, sulphurous, urinous, oily,
aromatic, or anything whatever of the mineral kingdom, and angular and of
terrestrial forms. But in the degree that this terrestrial form approaches more
nearly to the circular, so much the more agreeable is the sense thence
resulting.
(48.) The soul also
perceives still purer bodies, and forms of a simple element swimming in a still
higher ether; and it disposes its organism so that those things which are
agreeable may be attracted and drawn in by the most subtle pores even to the
cortex, and that by means of these the animal spirit or purer blood may be prepared;
but we are not rendered conscious of the variety of these or those forms by any
sense.
That the sense of smell
may be wonderfully perfected and exalted appears from the animals which by
smell and sagacity trace and perceive the friendly effluvia of their master,
and the unfriendly effluvia of other animals, indeed often at an immense
distance. But we human creatures take in by smell only those forms which swim
in the air, while the beasts we have mentioned take in those which float in the
ether. There is an ocean of these forms, as appears from phosphorus and
innumerable other phenomena. For the atmospheres are filled full of exhalations,
so that nothing shall ever be wanting, but rather constantly at hand, in order
that our blood—as well the red as the white blood—and animal spirit may be
supplied with those things which should enter into its composition. Besides,
there are the least little pores, now opened, now closed, now hungrily seizing
and imbibing the wave of these [subtle forms], now rejecting and discharging
them ; or there are moments when our cuticle stands wide extended, and when it
remains shut. Thence it is that various diseases both originate and are cured.
This [porous action]'is called instinct, nor does it belong to the con- • sciousness
of our minds ; because [these forms] are so subtle as not to affeft the
papillae or organs. This the soul has reserved to itself; nor will it reveal
this by any sense to the mind, which might wish, with its will taking the lead,
to administer this economy, in which case the whole animal chemistry would
easily be overthrown and destroyed. Accordingly, this sense should be the most
acute and pure of all the senses of touch.
VII.
(49.) The ear is the organ of Hearing, exactly adapted to receiving the
modifications of the air.
We can be sufficiently
instructed concerning the nature of the air’s modifications from the formation
of the ear, and also concerning the formation of the ear from the nature of the
air’s modifications. For the modified air is the principal and the ear is the
instrumental.cause, and so formed, one for the other, that there is not the
least of the one which is not inscribed in the other. But a sagacious
ingenuity, and one well furnished with knowledge, is necessary in exploring
the nature of one by means of the other.
For the auricle itself or
external ear, with its pinna or lobe, its helix and antihelix, tragus and
antitragus, scapha, concha, liguments, cartilages, follicles or glandules, and
muscles, is extended and spirally intorted at the first impulse of sound or
modulation, so that not the least ray shall escape, but must be carried most
aptly into the auditory passage. This passage itself, with its winding
progress, its bony and cartilaginous^ substance, its tunic, cerumanous
glandules, reticular body and hairs, is most perfectly adapted to induce the
approaching and concentrated sound into the membrane of the tympanum, and at
the same time to control it lest any damage should occur to this membrane. But the
membrane of the tympanum is concave, of elliptical figure, placed obliquely,
and composed of three membranes, the exterior one being continued to the
auditory passage, the interior into the vestibule. Even when perforated it
adapts the sound received exactly to itself, and either widens itself and its
own cavity or else relaxes. In the cavity itself of the tympanum are seen the
ossicula, as the malleus, the incus and stapes, with their handles,
connections, hinges, muscles, and cords. These clearly indicate that the least
touches or forces from the outermost membrane are propagated to a certain
interior one called the fenestra, so that there are as many most delicate
pulsations as there are distinct sounds. But inwardly, or in the labyrinth and
its vestibule, there run together three semicircular canals with their
sonorous membranes ; as also the cochlea of wonderful construction, with its
spiral lamina, its nucleus, its little nerves, its periostea, and infinite
other remarkable features, besides the two windows and the aquaeduCtus
Fallopii. All these openly show that the organism of the ear corresponds
exaCtly to the form of this fluxion of the air particles. And truly, so many
wonders are displayed in this single stony, hollow, sculptured bone that it
brings the most intelligent human mind into amazement. The artificially
constructed acoustic instruments are more perfeCt in the degree that they
approach more nearly to what is exhibited in this natural knowledge.
(50.) To each mode or ray of sound there belongs its ozuu force, and the
difference of forces produces differences of sound, for receiving and
transmitting which in the most distinct manner the ear is formed; therefore the
Hearing is also in a manner a sense of touch.
From innumerable indications,
as also from the organic apparatus of the hearing or of the ear, it is plain
that the modification of the air aCts by forces, or that there are as many
forces or most delicate blows and touches as there are sounds. In the ear this
is evident from its membranes and fenestrae, from the malleus attached to the
membrane, and from its fold and pit in which it hides itself, as also from the
incus and stapes and their articulations, which indicate plainly that there
are as many differences of sound as there are pulsations. The same truth is
also confirmed by innumerable other phenomena of sound ; as that a sound
increased puts forth such a force against things in its way that it violently
displaces them, and will break glass. I have heard that from the mere crash and
sudden sound of exploding powder in a ship which was rent in pieces and burned,
as also from the same in a tower or magazine, the roofs of houses have been
lifted, tables overthrown, windows broken, and bodies displaced by a very
strong impelling force, besides many other results which plainly show that in
sounds there resides a force greater or less according to the degree of its
intensity, and that therefore the difference of forces produces differences of
sound. Besides these there exist innumerable other phenomena which prove the
impulsive force of sounds.
(51.) The differences of forces, impulses, or touches constitute in themselves
a certain harmony which is called the form of modifications, whence results the
form of sensations, or sensation itself, concerning which nothing can be
predicated until its differences are analogically compared one with another.
This appears in musical
harmonies, which may be compared with numbers and the ratios and the analogies
thence resulting; for a sound cannot be said to have a quality without some
other sound as a companion or spouse, but it becomes a something by this
relation to and comparison with another. The very rays or modes of sound which
differ in their force at once make harmony or disharmony in combination with
others, thus they acquire a certain quality, because they are such relatively.
Hence arises musical harmony, and this is the reason why variety is an
attribute of nature, and why the perfection of nature lies in being harmonious.
(52.) From sounds and
their differences combined arises harmony or disharmony, which is the form
itself of the modifications, and which is presented either agreeably or
disagreeably in the organ of hearing.
(53.) Harmony and
disharmony are something that refers to the organism of the ear itself and its
communication with the brain and the harmonious variety that exists in the
sensible parts of the brain ; as also something that respeCts the form of the
cortical gland ; or the quality of the animus and especially the quality of the
mind. The harmony of sensations in general, and especially the sensation of
hearing, is determined by the state of this last, which is the reason why the
same harmony is not equally pleasing to all, but that what pleases one may displease
another. Nevertheless, there is a harmony more or less perfeCt naturally; but
the states above named are a reason why harmonies most perfeCt or truly natural
may yet be perceived as inharmonious.
(54.) The sense of hearing
is more excellent and perfect than the other senses, namely, the touch, taste,
and smell, in this respeCt, that the hearing perceives the very forms or
essential determinations of objeCts ; but the touch, taste and smell only the
external forms or figures, and indeed those of the harder parts ; so that the
hearing is able to penetrate into the inmost essence of a composed sound or
harmony, but not the inferior senses, which can take in the external but not
the internal quality.
(55.) The hearing is
indeed an external and corporeal sense, but it contributes especially to the
human intellect. For every word which is a composed and variously articulated
sound signifies some one idea of the mind ; but the ideas are connected in such
a manner that thence some rational form results which could not result except
from material forms composed and connected together after a rational and
analytic manner. Also the more intellectual the ideas the more the ideas ought
to be analytically composed, from whose ultimate results and products the mind makes
its inductions and conclusions as to what lies hidden within them. In this way
alone do we approach the pure intelligence of the soul, which at length
receives only the inmost sense of the words, and indeed, at last, a sense so
inmostly hidden that it cannot be expressed by any word or circumlocution
except most obscurely. Then the spiritual or angelic speech, or the universal
philosophy, takes it up; and the perception alone of these truths in their
mutual relations is a harmony most perfeCt and divine. Such is the proper
speech of the soul.
(56.) The hearing, viewed
in itself, is an inferior sense of sight; for the forms which are represented
by articulate sounds or words, pass over into those images which belong to the
sight itself. So that we contemplate things heard as if they were things seen,
before they are changed into rational or intellectual ideas. These, nevertheless,
do so agree that there appears manifestly a certain affinity between the two,
only a difference in perfection intervening as between the modification of the
air and that of the ether, or between the air and the ether, which agree in
general but differ in particulars ; or such as is the difference between the
superior and inferior things of nature, between the prior and posterior, the
simple and the composite, the more perfeCt and the more imperfeCl; or between
principles and causes, and between causes and effeCts.
(57.) The hearing and its
form of words does not pass over into a certain superior sight by mode of analogy,
or the form of the hearing does not naturally excite a similar form or harmony
of sight, that is, an image or idea; but the mind, being instructed in the
meaning of the words, concurs, and thus from use and at the same time from its
own intelligence it understands the words themselves and the forms connected in
speech, or from these it draws forth some rational meaning. Thus the sound by
no means excites anything rational in the mind ; but the forms themselves of
the words, which are so many ideas of the mind, give the intellect the means
whereby it may draw thence [from the sound] something rational. That the sounds
themselves are unable to produce anything intellectual in the mind appears
from the the vowels, which [in sound] are almost entirely different in one
language from what they are in another.
(58.) Meanwhile animals,
not being furnished with intellect or with a rational mind, are entirely
unable to produce any rational speech ; for as is the soul such is the mind
and such the speech. Speech, therefore, clearly indicates that we enjoy a
superior kind of soul, more intelligent and more perfeCt than that of brutes.
(59.) The speech of brutes
is wholly corporeal and material; in general signifying the affeCtions of their
mind, which retains a great affinity with their interior sense. Such speech,
which is to be called natural and general, is also interspersed in our own ;
indeed, we possess many words which by mere variation and nature of the sound
signify and express in a sufficiently natural manner a certain affeCtion
itself of the animus.
(60.) The ear, which is
the organ receptive of sound, applies itself most particularly to its
reception, and without this application the mutual discriminations of sound
could not be felt and perceived ; thence the ear undergoes and induces upon
itself as many mutations of state as there are differences of sound, as appears
from the applications of the malleus, incus and stapes ; wherefore each organ
must have a separate force and one aCting of itself, just as it is also passive
and inflated, as in all the other organs.
(61.) To every sensory
organ there must be supplied motory and sensory fibres, and sensation could not
take place if either the one or the other were wanting, and unless there were
some action which corresponded to passion or sensation. The aCtion of the
organ arises from use and from its nature, and indeed from an unconscious
intellect; thence the motory fibre of the organ seems to be moved from the
cerebellum, but the sensory fibre from the cerebrum. Thus the cerebellum and
the cerebrum seem to reign in every sensory organ.
’(62.) Every sound induces a
marked change of state upon the brain, and moves every particle of its
medullary and of its cortical substance as well as of both the meninges; yea,
sound sets into a kind of trembling the cranium itself, its parts and fibres,
and those of the whole body; and so the whole bodily system is rendered receptive
of the forces of sound.
(63.) A sound vibrates and
causes to tremble, each by itself, the parts of the cerebrum, the cerebellum,
and either medulla ; but the cortex itself of these [parts] is caused to
vibrate only in a general manner, since sound and its harmony may not be able
to carry the change of state to the cortex itself in a particular manner; but
the cortex, from the general change of the state of its cerebrum, may take
notice, and indeed from experience [learn to detect] what such mutation
signifies.
(64.) The hearing and
speech, in finding their way through the brain and all its parts and moving
these, flow according to the form of its substances. This is the reason why
the brain perceives the harmony of sounds. This is recognized as being similar
to its own general form, or the site and connection, order and form of its
parts.
(65.) The hearing in a
wonderful manner clarifies, purges, and restores to order the brain,
cerebellum, and the body itself and its viscera; yea, many things which
otherwise would harden and collapse are thus restored ; and in its own way it
draws forth the animal spirit that it may enter into marriage union with the
blood, even from the brain itself, through its sinuses into the jugular veins,
and from the jugular veins into the heart; hence it contributes something to,
the animal life. For speech and its sound is a kind of trembling, which
pervades both liquids and solids. This is the reason why the ear is formed in
the petrous bone, and that its nerve passes over that part of the skull where
the sinuses come together, and that the [animal] spirit itself passes through
the pores of the skull.
(66.) Differences of sound
can neither exist nor be distinguished unless there be a certain common sound
not discriminated or articulated, in which and under which the particulars can
be discerned; not otherwise than is the case with the sight, which also cannot
exist without a common light, in respedt to which all those things are
discerned which are more or less luminous. Such a sound is furnished by means
of the whole skull, which is the reason why the ear is inserted in the stony
and most porous bone. It is also on this account that musical instruments are
the more distinct, perfect, and sonorous in the degree that their strings are
attached to a board and table of a more tremulous substance, for this furnishes
of itself a common sound; but this common sound, like the light itself, is not
perceived in the sound of the particulars.
(67.) The hearing
communicates immediately with the cerebrum by the softer nerve of the seventh
pair, which probably arises from the medulla of the brain; but its harder
portion communicates with the medulla of the cerebellum, from which it seems
to originate. Hence it follows that the ear is adapted to receiving sound by
the harder nerve, but for catching the meaning by the softer nerve, each being
distributed throughout the sensitive membranes, cylinders, and spirals of its
vestibule.
VIII.
(68.) The organ of sight
is the eye, set in its own orbit, globular in figure, in color black, brown,
grey, bluish grey, or blue. Not to mention the eyelashes and lids, the eye
itself is provided with six muscles for motion, the names of which are the
attollens and the deprimens, the abductor, the adductor, the superior and the
inferior oblique. The tunics, the humours and vessels constitute the bulb
itself. The tunics are many. The albuginea, which is also called the adnata and
conjunctiva, adheres to the front part, and joins the eye to the orbit. Next is
the cornea, which is pellucid and divided into layers. The third is the
sclerotic, hard and opaque. The fourth is the choroid, black in man, and
consisting of a double layer; the fifth is the uvea, which is the front part of
the choroid, perforated and coloured, visible through the cornea, convex, in
which is to be seen the iris of various colours ; the pupilia which is the
round opening almost in the middle of the iris. The posterior face of the uvea
is black. Besides these there are to be seen the sphincter pupillae for
contracting, the ciliary fibres for dilating, the ciliary or annular ligament
for the movement of the vitreous body and crystalline lens, especially the
arterious and venous circle and the duCtus nigri. Then the retina, a very delicate
tunic, glistening, somewhat mucous, an expansion of the optic nerve around the
base, and the primary part of vision. The humours are the aqueous, or
albugineous, filling either chamber of the eye in which the uvea freely floats
as it were, and which is continually replenished ; the vitreous, probably
consisting of the most subtle vessels or cells, filling the back part of the
eye contiguous to the tunic of the retina; the crystalline, almost lens-shaped,
more solid than the rest, called the crystalline lens, enclosed by means of a
most delicate tunic in the pit of the vitreous, freely suspended as it were
just behind the pupil, and moveable by means of it, composed of many pellucid
layers and thus resembling an onion. The arachnoid vascular tunic, surrounding
the crystalline and vitreous body; the optic nerve completing the retina enters
the eye from the side of the nose. Besides these there are the nerves of the
third, fourth, fifth and sixth pairs.
(69.) The eye is the organ
constructed for the reception of the modifications of the ether, just as the
ear is for the reception of the modifications of the air, so that from the
structure and form of the eye we may learn what is the nature of the
modifications of the ether, and conversely, since one corresponds to the other
as the instrumental to the principal cause. The correspondence appears to be
such that the eye could not have been otherwise formed than it has been, in
order to receive every difference and variety of the inflowing modes to apply
these to itself and transmit them to the common sensory.
(70.) The soul desired to
furnish her body with sight in order that by this means she might take in every
variety of the visible world placed beneath her and the sphere of her regard.
Without this sense these would not come into her knowledge. Thus only could she
provide for the body and guard against threatening danger, these being the
universal end of all sensations. Moreover, she would perfect the intellect or
the rational mind by a posterior way or through the senses, especially that of
sight. Besides these ends there are many special and particular ones.
(71.) But the sense of
sight, although it is supreme and the most perfeCt of all the external
sensations, still is so feeble that it can contemplate only the ultimate
effeCis of nature or their external forms and figures ; and infinite things
still lie hidden from her and escape her view, while only a very few are
revealed, and indeed these very obscurely and indistinctly, and as if of a
continuous degree. This is the reason why interior things and the causes of
bodies and of objeCts are to be investigated by the experience of many
centuries, and indeed with the aid of those sciences by which the intellect is
rendered acute in its more interior penetrations.
(72.) By means of the
optical art, or of microscopes, we have detected how infinite are the things
which escape our ocular vision, since even the smallest inserts, whose shadow
we can hardly perceive at all, or but as the merest point, still appear to be
provided with their nerves, vessels, blood, heart, brain, medulla, muscles,
organs of the senses, of nutrition, and generation; and that the globule of red
blood, hitherto hardly visible, contains the infinite parts ; and so with many
examples. From these we may conclude that even these parts which are the
ultimate objects of microscopic vision also embrace in themselves innumerable
smaller parts, even a whole system, so that nature in the least parts still
lies hidden far beyond our optical experience. But we are gifted with a certain
internal vision, or imagination, which penetrates still farther into the forms
of things presented ; while the inmost sight of all penetrates even farther. So
also in regard to distances : while our hearing extends to a moderate
distance our ocular vision extends respectively to one that is immense, as even
to the sun and the stars ; and the rational mind by its vision reaches even
beyond the stars ; while the soul, which is intelligence itself and pure
vision, is not limited in its cognition by anything narrower than the created
universe. For if such a difference exist between the perfection of hearing and
that of sight, what must it not be between the sight and the intuitions of the
soul when left to itself.
(73-) We may conclude that
the sight of the smallest animalcule is much more acute and penetrating than
that of the large animals, so that they can discern parts which we can hardly
distinguish even by means of the microscope. Hence the smallest points of our
vision are regarded by them as entire masses or orbs, upon which they walk, in
whose pores they hide themselves as in caves, and from the least particles of
which they seek their nourishment, and there lay their eggs and hatch their
young. This seems to be deducible from the natural necessity of their life and
their nutrition, and likewise from the small diameter of their eyes.
(74.) And because our mind
is unable to judge of objects except by means of the eye, it judges of their
figure from the variety of the light and of the shade, of the magnitude and
the mass from the distance, of the form from the motion. Also it judges of the
harmony from the pleasure, with which the sight or animus is afleCted. In
these nature herself vastly exceeds art. Hence it follows that the mind,
judging from the sight, is liable to be greatly deceived, when that from which
it forms its judgments concerning objects is obscurely revealed. For the sight
is the servant and messenger of the rational mind, which it informs regarding
the visible world and its variety.
(75.) There are as many
most delicate pulsations and touches as there are luminous rays, although these
appear as nothing when compared to the rudest sense of touch, as do also the
modifications of the air ; and yet without touch nothing is afleCted. The more
luminous and intense the ray the stronger it is ; the less luminous the less
force of acting it possesses; and shade itself possesses none. How many forces
there are in the solar rays appears from their effeCt, whether from heat or
from the irritation of the membrane of the nose to sneezing ; also from the reflection
of visible things from the objects and figures into the eye, and from the
phenomena of refraction ; and innumerable others.
(76.) The images which
produce the sight of the eye are evidently only variations of light and shade,
or of the stronger and weaker forces variously mingled together. Hence arises
an image, or a visual figure and object. Colours themselves are nothing else
than variations of light and shade, or rather^of white and black made bright
with luminous rays. The relation itself of the light and the shade, or of white
and black lightened up with rays, and thence the external form and harmony, are
what produce the coloured figures. Also a greater proportion of white than of
black becomes so much the more yellow even to red, which partakes equally of
both ; the greater proportion of black becomes the more green and cerulean ;
and so on. The ratio itself produces the colour, but the form and harmony
produce the splendour and the beauty, while the harmony of the colours among
themselves produce the delight of vision.
(77.) No image can be
represented to the eye without the common light, under which it is and in which
may appear both what is more or less luminous and what is shadowy; thus in the
darkness the sight vanishes, in twilight it is feeble, in mid-day it is clear.
(78.) Every vision,
object, or image induces a change of state in its sensory, and of itself the
eye disposes itself to every quality of its object; there is therefore in the
eye an adiive or an action which corresponds to the passive or sensation. This
appears from the structure of the eye itself, and from one’s own observation
whenever images flow into the eye: from the structure, for the pupil is
moveable by means of the crystalline humours, and that it may be moved actually
toward every variety of object it is provided with the sphincter, fibres, and
ciliary ligaments; even the crystalline humour is itself composed of many
layers, and the uvea freely swims in the aqueous humour, and the aqueous or
albugineous humour is perpetually replenished ; thus the eye wonderfully
adapts itself to apprehending every object by the changes of its state.
(79.) The changes of state
of the eye are general as well as special and particular. In general the
position of
the eye is
changed with respedt to the position of the objedl, which is done by means of
the six muscles. Then also it obscures itself in part by dropping the lids, and
by elevating them it admits the entire inflowing of the objedl. In special
change the position of the pupil is changed ; in particular, all the least
particles composing the humours both aqueous, crystalline, and also the
vitreous [body]; for this is thought to consist of most subtle vessels and
cells; besides the retina itself, which distinctly receives all the inflowing
forces.
(80.) Visual
objects induce also a change of state by the several fibres of the optic nerve,
as also by the several fibres of the medulla of the brain, and finally by the
several cortical glands. For the same force which is borne in to the vitreous
humour and the retina is also communicated by fibres, thence extending even to
the ends of the fibres; but a change of state induced by these forces is
lighter and more subtle than the changes produced by sonorous forces or those
of hearing.
(81.) The
visual rays endeavor to reach, not some particular cortical glands, but the
whole cortical covering or all the glands universally. Thus there is not a
gland of the brain which is not rendered conscious of, and concordant with,
some one visual ray. So with every fibre. For the optic nerve, after its
meeting with its companion in the greater ventricles of the brain, expands into
two swellings, which are called the thalami of the optic nerves, or the
posteriora crura of the medulla oblongata. These thalami communicate with every
substance, medullary and cineri- tious, of the whole brain. For it adheres and
rests upon its most posterior lobes and borders. But the fibres of the lobes of
the upper brain, as also of the vertex, are concentrated into a kind of fixed
medullary cylinder which is called the basis fornicis, and thence for the most
part they spread themselves over the thalami of the optic nerves. Thus the
whole brain, both medullary and cortical, is rendered a participant of the
rays of sight.
(82.) There is
no cortical gland which does not represent a kind of internal eyelet—or a
semblance of an eye,— since the gland is in the last terminus of the fibres,
and thence of the modes and the rays of both the sight and the hearing.
(83.) Visual
rays of images of sight induce a change of state both internal and external in
every cortical gland, just as the sonorous modes of hearing do in the whole
brain ; for the cortical gland is a brain in miniature, and receives the
sensation of sight just as the entire brain receives that of sound.
(84.) The
visual rays and their figures and forms or images run over the cortical gland
and its surface, and bend themselves according to its most perfedt or vortical
form, and their bending and changing is communicated to all the fibres and
vessels which compose the gland, thus to the whole gland itself.
(85.) But
since, the cortical gland adapts itself still more perfectly than the eye for
receiving every variety of visual objects, by its own power it induces a change
in itself, taking another form, and one agreeing with the inflowing image.
This change, which is the adlion of the mind itself or of the soul,
corresponding to the sensation of sight as passive, produces that which is
called the idea of imagination, and which is a part of the memory, because it
is reproduced as often as the gland again assumes the same condition.
(86.) In this
way the images of sight produce and perfect the imagination, which is the
internal sense of sight; not, indeed, that the visual image induces this change
itself, for the gland is only passive to the shock of the rays, but that the
gland itself concurs actively from its own interior potency. So is brought
about a correspondence, that such a change of state corresponds to such an image.
Hence it results that if the imagination is strong and is intent upon one
object, or if there be a thought [in the mind] from which flows forth an
interior active power, that the images of sight strike the common sensory only in the
lightest manner, and are only very obscurely perceived, so that the visual
image induces only a certain superficial change without any essential change of
state.
(87.) All
words which are heard are also seen ; all images which are seen are also
perceived and become ideas; and all ideas which are perceived are also understood
; whence come rational or intellectual ideas: in this way objeCts of the
external senses pass over into objeCts of the internal senses.
(88.) The
passage of rays or modifications of the ether is made in a spiral form, as that
of the modes of sound in a circular form ; and the fluxion of the medullary and
nervous fibres is also spiral. Therefore the visual rays flowing in from the
surrounding ether, through the eye and its retina, upon the fibres of the optic
nerve, in a fluxion of similar form, flow by an easy and spontaneous force even
to the cortical glands. But in the cortical gland they are elevated into a
certain superior or cortical form, while indeed folding themselves around its
surface and texture, and this form is the vortical.
(89.) The
cortical gland, by virtue of the soul which resides within it and is its order,
law, truth, and form itself, feels whether the image, simple or composed, be an
harmonious one. What is harmonious agrees with its form, which the image
traverses ; but the inharmonious disagrees, for it forces, injures, and
endeavors to destroy the site, nexus, order, form, in a word, both the external
and internal state of the whole gland ; whence results aversion, horror, and
whatever is unpleasant, cheerless, even to sadness.
(90.) The
human race is wanting in an interior sense which brute creatures enjoy, as
instanced in their sense of place, or that which makes them to recognize where
a certain place is and thus to learn by what way to return home and regain
their accustomed meadows and streams. They know this notwithstanding they find
their way by an entirely different path and one which had never been trodden or
scented. Thus they are like living magnets. Such a sense arises from the form
of the cortical glands themselves, which form is vortical, and cannot be
excited by the fluxion of substances without a determination of the poles and
of the larger and smaller circles, such as is seen in the great system. But man
is wanting in such a sense, because-of the intellect or our possessing a
certain higher perception which induces an activity in those glands, so that
the sensations of sight may be rightly perceived. This intellect is not pure,
but mixed, hence it does not attend to the slightest motions of the obje&s
of sight, and it governs the state of its gland from its own will, and not from
nature or a natural intelligence. Therefore it can not be otherwise than that
such a sense is wanting in man while it is enjoyed by those brute creatures
which are not possessed of such an intel- led.
IX.
Perception, Imagination, Memory, and
their Ideas.
(91.) Words which are
heard are as it were instantly seen, for words represent so many forms,
quantities, qualities, movements, accidents, which are usually objects of
vision. But whatever is seen is also taken in by a certain interior sight or
imagination, that is, it is perceived. Moreover, whatever is perceived by the
imagination is also understood by man. Thus modes of sounds or of hearing pass
over into images of sight, these into ideas of imagination which are also
called material ideas, these again into the rational ideas or into so many
reasons, from which, analytically connected, arises the intellect. Such is the
progress of sensations from external to internal, and hence we may discern
their differences.
(92.) The imagination is
therefore an internal sight, which corresponds to the external; for the eye is
only the organ 'and instrument of vision, the genuine vision itself residing in
the brain, or in the common sensory. When this is injured or disturbed or
obstructed, the eye no longer sees ; while on the other hand the image itself,
which was present by daylight, is resuscitated when the eyes are closed, or
during sleep, as though it existed in the eye itself.
(93.) The parts of the
external sight are called images, but the parts of the internal sight are
called ideas, by some, indeed, material ideas, since they are not represented
as unlike the images of sight except that they are disposed in a different
order and connection. What this difference is can be seen from illustration
alone.
(94.) The external sight
contemplates only the figures of objects, as, for instance, one wall of a
palace after another, the roof, tiles, foundations, chambers, pictures,
tapestries, thrones, and the dukes and ministers who dwell there ; but the
internal sight observes at once all these things which to the eye are presented
successively, or during the passing of time. The external sight beholds in a
city one house after another, squares, streets, temples, monuments, its
legislature, its inhabitants ; but the internal sight sees these several
things all instantaneously, and not in succession. The external sight beholds
the whole starry heaven, with its sun, stars, planets, moons, meteors, clouds,
and their phenomena, contemplating one after another ; while the imagination
comprehends them all simultaneously, and views the form of the whole heaven
perceived by sight; so in other instances. Thus the external sight takes in
only one part of the several objects after another, while the internal vision
takes them in simultaneously, so that in a moment it may traverse a palace, a
city, the starry heavens, and contemplate in one compound idea that which was
presented to the eye in its particulars. Thus the total complex of the one
differs infinitely from that of the other, so that something infinite or
perpetual as it were is superadded, as contributing a superior form in respedl
to that immediately below it. Hence it follows that the internal sight or the
imagination is in a degree proportionately superior, prior, interior, simpler,
and more perfect than the external sight.
(95.) From the organs
themselves of the external sight we may also conclude that the imagination or
the internal sight is in a degree proximately superior and more perfect. The
organ of sight is the eye, while the organ of internal sight is the cortical
gland, especially of the brain. This cortical gland is an eye or a brain in
miniature, but still it is an organ of a higher degree, for its form is vortical,
according to the description given of it, hence it is of a purer, more perfeft,
and simpler nature than the form of the organ of sight, whose rays and
modifications are directed into the spiral form, which is next below the vortical
in degree.
(96.) The internal vision
or the imagination exists in the cortical glands, and indeed in these
separately, so that each one of these is a part or a symbol of that sense or
the imagination ; the harmonious variety of the glands causes that there is no
difference in any object which is not in turn comprehended more distinctly in
one of these glands and more obscurely in another ; for the more eyes there are
so much more distinCt is the sight; consequently the more cortical glands there
are so much the more distinct the imagination. Moreover, the common cause of
all perfeCts the parts themselves, so that they shall all conspire to the
common result.
(97.) The images
themselves of the sight are elevated along the fibres of the optic nerve, even
to all the cortical glands of the brain. Reaching them, they run through them
with the greatest rapidity, pervading even their whole fibrous and vascular
structure by a kind of most subtle trembling, so that the whole gland is
rendered conscious of the image and phenomenon of sight. The gland which is
the organ of internal sight or of the imagination, adapts itself at once most
perfectly to receiving its objeCt; far more perfectly, indeed, than can the eye
or the organ of external sight. Thus the gland undergoes a change of state
which very nearly corresponds to the inflowing image or objeCt, for it either
contracts or expands, or assumes a more perfeCt form, or distorts itself into
one more imperfeCt, since the entering of what is harmonious exhilarates and
expands the sensory, while anything that induces discord binds and distorts,
entirely as in the fibres and organs of touch. This change itself, which the
gland receives, and to which it adapts itself at the impulse of any visual
image, is called an idea. It can no longer be called an image, since it
partakes of a certain superior and more perfeCt form as well as of
intelligence. In this way the visual image is converted and passes into the
corresponding idea of the imagination, or the external and inferior sight into
that which is internal and superior.
(98.) From these things it
appears that a certain natural correspondence intervenes between the
imagination and the ocular vision, since that which is harmonious naturally
expands the organ and restores it to its most perfect form, while the
inharmonious compresses and distorts it into a form less perfect. This takes
place by infinite modes, according to every quality of the objedt as regards
its possessing a perfedt or imperfect form.
(99.) The objedt or the
image is perceived as soon as it strikes upon these little sensories, or the
cortical brain. This subtle vibration, trembling, and first change in the
aforesaid glands, produces what is called the sensation of sight; since sight
does not exist in the eye, but in the common sensory. For when the modification
pervades both the gland itself, inducing in this the most perfedt form, and at
the same time the simple fibres, which are so many intelledhial rays of the
soul, it cannot be otherwise than that whatever touches and in an instant traverses
these several fibres should be felt. But this sight is superficial, and cannot
yet be called perception. .
(100.) But we have first
to learn what sight properly is, and what is perception, imagination, memory,
image, idea; as also what their differences are. At the outset it is to be
observed that these all are effedted in one organ or sensory, that is, in the
cortical substance [of the brain].
(101.) Whenever those
variations of the modes or modifications of the ether which consist of the
differences of light and shade, or of black and white, whence the colours
arise, strike upon a little sensory [of the brain], then sight exists.
The variations quiver over the surface, and through both the medullary and
cortical, the fibrillous and vascular substances, and they dispose the little
sensory for receiving a modification similar to their own. The sensory does
not enter into other states, but it remains simply in the state agreeable to
that which flows in. Then it is that sight arises; and its changes in this
little sensory, or brain in least form, are only such as conform to the objedt
of sight. The parts of sight are called images and objects.
(102.) But the imagination
comes into play whenever the sensory undergoes diverse states, even while the
first state is still preserved, which is the state of the object and the common
state, and basis as it were of the remaining states. Thus, while other states
are passed through, they all have a bearing upon this first, or one common to
them all, and to this they are all related and assimilated. For there are
innumerable states possible, both universal, special, and individual; and under
every universal one there are infinitely many singular ones, or in one general
state there are infinite particular states which are called its single parts.
Nor can they do otherwise than contribute their share to a certain general
form, since they subsist under a general form which they help to sustain.
(103.) The parts of the
imagination are not called images, but ideas; for taken together they
contribute a certain form which approaches the rational, while yet it is not
the rational. Into the imagination enter only those things which are similar
and in agreement, and these are all particular ideas ; from these arises a
compound idea, which again is, as it were, the part of an idea still to be
composed.
(104.) When the
imagination is in adtion then the external or ocular sight ceases, or recedes
from it, for the objedt of sight then only remains as forming a common basis of
the other states; and by turning it about, those which have affinity with it
are gathered in and brought together. Thus the imagination is stronger when the
eyes are closed or in the dark, and feebler in an intense light.
(105.) When the
imagination so operates that by a nexus of similar things a desired order is
obtained, or seems to be discovered, and there is the recognition of what is in
agreement, this state is called perception or internal sensation. For
that is perceived which is seen, or is taken in by the sense ; and yet the
concurring of many more things is requisite to perception, by whose aid the
quality of an object is known.
(106.) Memory is
all that which is produced by the imagination, or it is the mutability of state
itself. For the sensory itself possesses by nature nothing but a potency of
changing its state; but that it assumes various states is the result of
sensations which constrain the sensory and by a kind of force bring it into
these changes. The particular mutation thus acquired remains, and its quality
is known by the images impressed. Hence a particular mutation which exists in
potency is a part of the memory, while a particular mutation which is in aft is
a part of the imagination. Therefore the ideas of the memory are the same as
the ideas of the imagination, but they are not reproduced except by an aftual
mutation; hence the imagination may in a certain sense be called the aftive
memory.
(107.) These changes of
state are to be acquired by use, culture, custom, in the flowing-in of
sensations. Thus the sensory itself becomes accustomed and learns in time to
undergo many changes of state, and thus to enrich its memory. Every mutation,
once acquired, remains under the name of memory, and continues present whenever
the sensory returns to that same mutation. .
(108.) From these
observations we may now conclude what the imagination is, and what the memory,
and the idea, and also in what manner the sight passes over into the
imagination, and thus what is their relation.
(109.) The brute animals,
however, are born not only into their natural memory, but into their
imagination, or into the mutation of the state of their sensory. For they are
possessed at once of the pcrfeft sensations of their members and with their
powers of afting.
(no.) It follows from the
foregoing principles that there can be no idea of the imagination which is not
in
PERCEPTION, IMAGINATION,
MEMORY, ETC. 69
the memory, and no idea of the memory which has not been in the sense ; hence
that all parts of the imagination are insinuated through the senses alone.
Consequently that there can be just so much imagination as there is memory, and
so much memory as there is experience of the senses.
(in.) But inasmuch as the
order of similars, their harmony and their form, does not depend on this sensory,
but on a higher and a pure intellect, it follows that something more than
memory alone is required for the imagination. For it is not owing to the memory
that those ideas called forth are rightly put together. This is rather the
result of the pure intellect itself, or of the soul, whose nature it is to
understand the harmonies and order of things. Hence the imagination is such as
the communication of the pure intellect with it, or in other words, the
imagination can exist so far as there is a communication of the pure intellect
with the ideas of the memory. But we will speak further of this subject when we
come to treat of thought.
(112.) Such an arrangement,
in order, of the parts of the memory does not come from the senses, but from
the pure intellect, and thus from the soul, which is the order, the love, the
truth, the law, the rule of its own system. But we confound this order with the
ideas, or the determination and order of parts with the parts themselves. And
from our observing that the order is natural or inborn, we believe that the
ideas themselves are inborn also.
(113.) The pure
imagination is nothing else than the power of comprehending and embracing at
once all those things which are obvious to the senses, and which inhere in the
memory. This, in a measure, belongs to brutes ; it is exercised by
somnambulists, and by children whose imagination is not yet well directed or
ordered by the pure intellect.
(114.) There appear,
nevertheless, to be rational and intelligent beings who speak from memory
alone, or from
experience, or from the
knowledge of others, and without a proper intuition of things in connection and
orderly arrangement. These seem to have an intellect to those who do not know
the various parts themselves [that go to make up this faculty], as to what they
are or whether they exist or not, or to those who still less know how to
combine ideas into the form of the true imagination.
(115.) The imagination is
the more perfect in the degree that any one can reproduce the more ideas from
his memory, and at the same time the more similar and harmonious ones, and
from these glide into the field of other ideas, and so change these common
states into similar or other common ones, and choose out the parts of each and
dispose the several ones into a suitable form, so that there may be produced a
composed idea such as will agree with the order of nature. If anything contrary
to that order is admitted, then there is a defeCt and irregularity, a weakness,
resulting either from ignorance or from inability to change the states or to
reproduce ideas, to rightly co-ordinate and subordinate these. Or it may arise
from a failure of the pure intellect to communicate with the ideas of the
memory, or from many other causes.
(116.) No speech can
originate from imagination alone. To this both intelled and thought are
requisite ; for there is in every composition of words something intellectual,
analytical, and philosophical,—yea, spiritual.
(117.) Every imagination
at once ceases as soon as the cortical glands are deprived of the faculty of
undergoing their .mutations ; as when they grow cold and are relaxed as in
certain diseases, in catalepsy, in morsus tarantulae, in Vitus’ dance, and in
loss of memory. The glands are deprived of this faculty when the blood is
obstructed, either by the relaxing of the vessels or by something that hinders
its return to the veins and sinuses. When the fibres relax, the glands lose
their tone, adhere to those next to them, and become thickened with the more
sluggish flow of humours.
(118.) The internal state of the sensory, indeed, depends on the determination
of the simple cortex, and of the tender fibres of its vessels, of the meninx
piissima surrounding it, of the follicle itself, and humour flowing through.
But the external state of the sensory depends upon its connexion with others
near it by means of the very delicate fibrous threads and by the arterial
ramifications, in general by the pia meninx, from the insertion of the vessels
and the production of the fibre. But the external state, or one still more
remote, depends upon the arterial vessels of the brain, the quality of the
blood, upon the liquids outside the vessels, upon the furrows and chinks
between the cortical masses, upon the connection of the medullary substance,
upon complication and tension, upon veins, sinuses and the dura mater, upon the
form of the whole brain and its connection with the cerebellum.
(119.) The qualities of
the memory and those of the imagination are most diverse, for there are as many
varieties as there are people. There are those who are of quick memory and
imagination, and those who are slow ; those in whose memory objeCts are most
firmly held, and those in whom these are suddenly dissipated ; also there are
those who can recall aCts after a long time. Yet we are not able to examine
thoroughly the causes of every variety unless we know rightly the internal
state of the cortical glands and the more perfeCt forms. The reason of all can
indeed be given, and confirmed by the phenomena of experience ; but here it
will suffice to touch only upon the generals of the subjeCt. From what is
related above it is evident whence these diversities have their origin.
(120.) The imagination
vacillates, is intoxicated, becomes insane, according as the animal spirit and
purer blood which passes through the little sack of the gland is obstructed by
heterogeneous particles, prickles, and things disagreeing ; for then the gland
within is pricked and stimulated into other states than those which are induced
by sensations ; thence is inebriety or inebriate insanity. Whether such
influences or touches occur irom within or without, still the gland is disturbed
out of its own natural order.
(121.) Those inclinations
into which we are born also take their origin from thence. For instance, that
we are born poets, musicians, architects, mechanics, or whatever else, depends
more upon the imagination than the intellect; for there are persons whose
little sensories incline and are more easily adapted to these than to those
changes of state, and by a natural leading more promptly seize and reproduce
one set of ideas than another. This depends upon the form itself of the sensory
or gland, while the form is dependent on the simple cortex ; and this depends
on and springs from the soul.
(122.) The internal sight
is most acute, and resides in the top of the cerebrum, for there the cortex is
most distinCi and is surrounded by very frequent fissures, so that it can be
disposed for assuming every mode and every state. It is not so elsewhere in the
cerebrum, still less in the cerebellum, where the sensations are common and
accordingly indistinCt. For a universal without the distinCt powers of the
particulars is obscure ; and of such aCtion imagination cannot be predicated.
Part Second
THE
INTELLECT.
x.
(123.) Before we treat of the mixed intelleft, or of thought and our rational
mind, it is necessary to treat of the pure intelleft; for thought is as it were
a middle be- between the pure intelleft and the imagination, and in a certain
manner draws its essence from both ; for the priors and posteriors, or the
extremes which enter on both sides, are to be explored in order that the nature
of the middle or the mixed result may be known.
(124.) There is in each
cortical gland a certain substance of the cortex of the brain out of which the
simple fibres arise, just as the medullary or composite fibres arise from the
cortical glands ; for the cortical gland which we call the internal little
sensory is the cerebrum in its smallest effigy.
(125.) This simple cortex
or simple cortical substance is that most eminent organ of the pure intellect.
For it exceeds in perfeftion that sensory of the imagination or perception,
that is, the cortical gland, as far as this exceeds the cerebrum, or as far as
sight exceeds hearing ; for its form itself is superior, and indeed the highest
form of nature, that truly celestial form which was described above. It knows
no higher form except what is spiritual, and since this substance is placed in
the highest apex of nature, it cannot be indicated by the same terms employed I
in describing inferior
substances, for these are too crude to be so applied.
Therefore we can hardly call it the cortex, nor the cortical substance, nor an
analogous or emulous cortical substance, nor anything but the most eminent
organ. We may not name it a sensory, for it does not feel but understands.
Wherefore in what follows I shall call this the intelleElory
(126.) The sensory depends
upon this intelledlory, that is, sensation depends upon the pure intellect ;
for there is no sensation nor perception of sensation unless by some faculty
more interior or superior it is understood what that is which is perceived. The
smallest differences themselves which are in [every] idea, and exist between
single ideas, cannot be distinguished by feeling and perception merely. There
must be the intelleCtory which judges and decrees that this idea harmonizes
with that idea or is discordant with it, and that it agrees with another and
with still more which are related or similar ; so that it may be known what is
harmonious, what is particularly adapted, what pleasant, true and good. There
would therefore be no thought without the pure intellect, still less would
there be imagination and sensation. The very organism of the body depends
similarly upon its intelleClory or inmost sensory. There is no composite cortex
without the simple cortex, such as is that of the brain ; for from the simple
cortex simple fibres arise which arrange the gland itself through their own
determinations. No cerebrum exists without cortical glands ; no sensory of the
sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch, and thence no body. Therefore all things
regard this intelleCtory or pure intellect as their beginning, and at the same
time the sense to which single operations refer themselves.
(127.) This intelleftory
recognizes above itself no other form than spiritual form, that is, the soul
itself or the form of the soul; whence pure intellect does not recognize above
itself anything except pure intelligence, which is of the soul, because this is
spirit. Consequently we ought not to confound pure intelleft with intelligence,
or the intelleftory with the soul; for the intelleftory whose form is celestial
and the first of nature can understand nothing from itself, but only from the
essence or spiritual form ; this alone understands, and causes that which next
in order follows to understand. Thus it is evident that our * soul is in a
region above the possible perceptions of our rational mind. For we believe that
thought is the highest and the proper power of the soul itself; but above that
thought, which never exists except as impure or mixed, there is a purer
thought, and above this a spiritual intelligence itself; and still above this
there is a wisdom which is divine and not human ; for intelligence draws its
wisdom from a divine spirit alone, thus from God.
(128.) Thus the
intelleftory is born from the soul itself; its form is evidently from the
soul’s essential determinations ; but what this first form may be, after the
soul, cannot be easily expressed in words, since the attributes and powers of
this form are beyond the sphere of common words. For words express only those
things which are in nature and within the gyre of nature, but not the highest
and those nearest to spiritual essence. This is why we have to speak concerning
the intelleftory in terms so general and but slightly intelligible as to their
meaning, and why what is said has to be explained by circumlocution and by
ideas sometimes involved. By means of these some obscure idea may be obtained,
and even a comparatively clear one in those minds which are cultivated and
possessed of a more profound judgment.
(129.) It cannot be
doubted but that such an intelleftory or pure intelleft exists, for it
manifests itself evidently in the several parts of our thought and speech, to
which it is nearest, and in which it most intimately resides ; for we reduce
the ideas themselves of the memory, not unlike those of the sight, in a moment
into such an order, form, and harmony that a certain rational analysis thence
results, which is known to be true or false by a kind of understanding in our
purer thought. For sensations do not supply any other objeCts than those which
are parts of the imagination ; but to analytically reduce those into forms, and
thus to conceive and put forth new forms, which again are parts of a sublime
thought, and in them to observe truths, verisimilitudes, and probabilities from
their connection and order alone—this is not a function of sensations but of
the pure intellect; neither is it a process of thought itself, for the thought
is what is reduced into such a form, and so it is a result from that intellect
which is prior and which produces the intellectual or rational ideas of the
thought.* Such an intellectual, analytical, philosophical, even spiritual
principle is in every sentence and every speech, even of a child. For a child
speaks instantly in a manner more perfectly philosophical, dialeCtical,
logical, grammatical, than all the Peripatetic and Pythagorean schools could
learn to do artificially and scientifically. This is the reason why we learn
philosophical sciences, as logic itself and other theoretical branches of
knowledge, from our own selves and from the inmost examination of our thoughts
and speech, just as anatomists obtain a knowledge of the body from the inspection
of the viscera. Wherefore there must be such an intellect inmost in us which
shall prescribe rules and laws to those operations of our mind which lie
equally hidden from us as the form of the brain, heart, stomach, lies hidden
from him who has never examined the viscera ; therefore the philosophic
science is itself a certain anatomy of the mind, whose medicine is also sought
for.
♦ Compare the Deduction of the
Catagories in the Transcendental Analytic of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason,
Bohn’s edition, pp. 55, 71 et seq. [7r.
Whence it
follows that no thought can exist, and therefore no speech, without the
inflowing of such an intellect. ,
(130.) The operation of
this intelleCtory, or this intelleft, cannot but be pure, for its form is born
of the essential determinations of the soul. These determinations are so many
spiritual radii or pure intelligences. The form flowing only from spiritual
radii, most perfectly determined, cannot breathe anything but what is purely
intellectual. What this form is can be perceived by comparison with the form of
the internal sensory, and of this with the form of the brain ; nevertheless, it
cannot be described. It is indicated, however, analytically by the simple
elevation of perceptions from an inferior to a superior degree, and by the
adding of something perpetual and infinite according to the doCtrines of
order, of degrees, and forms, of whose laws I have treated above.
(131.) Therefore to
describe what the pure intellect is we must resort to universal terms, as was
said, for it is the very nature of its own body, and the knowledge itself of
the natural things which exist below it. For when the pure intellect aCts it
aCts from itself, that is, from nature itself and knowledge, since all things
flow into aCt in agreement with its intuition. For the pure intellect does not
first inform itself [from other sources] how and in what manner it shall aCt,
but from itself and in itself it knows those measurements, laws, rules, and
truths, and other things which are found to be contained, although imperfeCtly,
in the thought, imagination, external sensation, in the aCtion, and in the
several organs. In all of these there lies hidden what is the inmost and most
abstruse in the sciences, as in the first philosophy, in logic, in
anthropology, dialectics, physiology, physics, geometry, mathematics,
mechanics, optics, acoustics, chemistry, medicine, jurisprudence, ethics, grammar,
and in many others of whatever name. We may clearly behold an example and
summary of the sciences in our whole organic system in its several members,
parts, and operations, all of which must flow and exist, not from themselves
but from a certain efficient cause in-which such a science is, or which is the
science itself, the order, truth, harmony, and form of forms. These are all
universal terms which apply to the pure intellect. Thus inmostly in ourselves
we possess a most perfedt knowledge of all natural things, and yet we anxiously
seek how to learn some part of this science or of what is within us, or to draw
this hidden knowledge out of its shadow into light. Thus this pure intellect
can be called the science of natural sciences ; for all single sciences are but
parts of some universal science which we call the philosophy and mathesis of
universals ; for from this the pure intellect can descend into single parts
whenever it wishes. Thus it appears that we cannot speak concerning this pure
intellect otherwise than abstractly and obscurely.
(132.) This pure intellect
comprehends simultaneously that which thought or our rational mind comprehends
successively, the premises and antecedents for instance at the same time with
the consequents, as in a conclusion or an analytical equation ; principles and
causes at the same time with the principiates, causates, and effects ; for it
views even effect as already existing in its efficient cause, thus everything
to be formed as already formed, and everything already formed as to be formed
; nor does it hesitate in thinking out the means, for it takes in the whole complex.
A defect alone of instrumental causes hinders its act; for it contemplates all
things past as present, and at the same time those future things which
evidently flow connectedly and according to natural order. Thus concerning the
operations of this pure intellect, we can neither predicate movements nor
degrees, thus neither time, space, place, movement, celerity, nor any of those
things which suppose succession and distance ; for its form is the first of
nature, and from this, as from a beginning or beneath it, the accidents and
qualities of nature descend or arise. For celestial form embraces and, as it
were, contemplates
ail following
forms as if existing in itself, when it begins its operations. .
(133.) The pure intellect
beholds nothing as verisimilar or probable, but either as true or false, or how
far it is from truth or falsity ; whence all its ideas are so many natural truths,
and from the truth it sees distinctly falses and fallacies, as the eyes
distinguish shadows from light. Therefore its observations consist of so many
truths being united among themselves, whence a universal truth arises. This is
the reason why the more intelligent, or those whose thought or rational
analysis approaches nearer to this pure intellect, perceive and know many
propositions as true or false at once, and indeed without demonstration a
posteriori, from effeCts, experience, artificial logic, and the sciences
of the scholars ; indeed, often to such a degree that they are indignant that
the mind should wish to demonstrate those things which are clearer, more
certain, truer and higher than all demonstration ; they regard the attempts of
such demonstrations as so many dusky shadows, which do not illustrate but
rather obscure. Such are we when we become pure intelligences or souls, for
then we shall laugh at our literary treatises as child’s play, and we shall
regard the entire syllogistic logic as but a boy’s game at odds and evens.
(134.) The pure intellect,
whose property it is to know universal nature and from itself to perceive and
to know all nature’s arcana, cannot be instructed by internal senses, still
less by external senses ; for the pure intellect itself has formed all the
senses, internal as well as external, according to every idea of its own
nature, and has furnished these with recipient organs before their use ;
consequently such an intellect, which is prior to the senses, can in no wise be
acquired, cultivated, or perfected [by means of them], but remains just the
same from the beginning of life to the last, whence it is as perfeCt in the
embryo and infant as in the adult and old man, in Davus as in Oedipus, in an
insane and stupid person as in an eminent philosopher.
The intellect which is
capable of being instructed and perfected is just below the pure intellect; it
is called the human reason, as also the rational mind. Its operation is that
thought which is never pure but mixed, or which derives more from ignorance
than from intelligence. These things are the cause of that strife which has
arisen among the learned, Whether there are connate ideas, or Whether they are
acquired, or Whether anything exists in the intellect which was not first in
the sense ; each proposition having its adherents. For there are indications
of a kind of intellect innate in us, and all ideas are found to be connate; but
the disposition and ordering of the ideas so that thence an analysis may exist
cannot be connate, for this is something purely intellectual; at the same time
there would be no ideas to be thus arranged in order except they were connate.
From this it follows that either position may be true in a certain sense.
(135.) From these things it
is also evident that the pure intellect is unable to express and arrange its
own ideas or universal truths through any speech ; for the parts of speech are
so many ideas, images, and forms, which are to be acquired by the way of the
senses, and which stand far below; but the pure intellect represents its own
simple and universal analyses in likenesses such as are seen in dreams, then
also through parables and similitudes, even through fables such as the
ancients employed in the ages nearest to the Golden. For such things at the
same time contain not only particular things but in general all things which
relate to the same truth. These things our mind ought to interpret and evolve
as the answers of oracles ; for they are all obscure to our intellect, while
in the pure intellect they are in a clearer light; for especially are we blind
in truths themselves.
(136.) But it is not
easily perceived by thought what the pure intellect is ; it is even questioned
whether it exists ; for thought itself does not comprehend what is above
itself or what is pure, being itself not pure but mixed. This indeed it does
comprehend, that where there is a mixture there must be something pure with
which the impure is mixed, or that into our thought where intelligence and ignorance
or light and darkness reign together, there inflows from above a something
intellectual which illumines the sphere of thoughts and furnishes the faculty
of thinking, since the sensations of the body can in no wise efleCt this. Then that there flows into the same from
below, something that is not intellectual, whence the mingling of intelligence
and ignorance ; this is our mixed intellect or thought. But the pure intellect
itself is the mediate between the spiritual intelligence of the soul, and the thought
of our rational mind. To perceive what the pure intellect is, we must therefore
inquire what the soul is and what the rational mind, then also what is the
influx of both. These have been treated of severally, but a short
recapitulation will be of use.
(137.) The soul is pure intelligence, a spiritual essence and form, thence next above the pure intellect, whose essence and form is the
first of nature or celestial; for the intelleClory itself cannot be formed
except from the essential determinations of the soul; as many determinations
so many radii of spiritual light there are ; for its intelligence is not
natural but spiritual, and its science is not philosophical but metaphysical,
pneumatical, and as I may say theological. From this it follows that its first
descendant is the pure intellect, whose property it is to know most
immediately both from itself and in itself all that which is natural.
(138.) The ideas
themselves of the soul are spiritual truths; but the ideas of the
pure intellect are the first natural truths; the ideas of our intellect
are called reasons, but the ideas of the memory or imagination are
properly called ideas; the ideas of sight are images and objects;
the ideas of hearing are modes, modulations, words. Such is the
subordination of ideas; wherefore everything spiritual which is in speech is of
the soul ; but everything intellectual is of the pure intellect, everything
rational is of the thought, and so on.
(139.) But it maybe asked,
how does the pure intellect flow into the sphere of thought? is it an influx,
or is it a correspondence and harmony? This we learn especially from the form
itself of the internal sensory or cortical gland ; for in this is contained the
simple cortical which is called the intelleCtorium, just as the cortical
substance is contained in the brain. This simple cortex is the origin of all
the simple fibres, but that of the brain is the origin of all the medullary
fibres and the nerves of the body. The pure intellect which resides in this
above-mentioned intelleClory or simple cortex cannot flow into the sphere of
the thoughts otherwise than as the images of sight or ideas of imagination into
the modes of hearing or into speech, which is not influx but correspondence ;
for the modes of hearing which are so many articulated vibrations only move and
vibrate the little sensories in common. Then the sensory itself, from use and
experience, knows at once what such vibration and superficial mutation signifies.
Hence its ideas concur, which is said to happen through correspondence. It is
the same with the intel- lectory or its pure intellect; for when the sensory
goes through its mutations of state, then the intelledlory commonly a£ted
upon, or as we may say externally brought into another situation, immediately knows
from use and experience what such a mutation signifies ; and so immediately
concurs : thus it is not influx but correspondence. But concerning this more
will be said below, where we shall treat of thought and intercourse.
Intellect, Thought, Reasoning, and Judgment,
or,
The Human Intellect.
(140.) There is no thought
without imagination, because there can be none without the ideas of memory,
which are as much parts of thought as of the imagination, since without memory
we cannot think. It is therefore very hard to perceive distinctly what
imagination is and what thought is. That they are so distinCl from each other
and can be distinguished appears in the case of somnambulists, who see with
eyes open and with a sort of imagination, but often a perverted one because
there is no thought in it; then again from brute animals, who are not without
imagination even if they are without thought; also from those just out of
infancy, who begin to prattle and speak things imagined but not things thought
; many adults even being like them, varying in their capacity of thought and
fancy. But because there is imagination in thought, and thought in imagination,
we believe thought to be a certain more perfeCt and refined imagination,
supposing that these could not be separated, as was said. It is important,
therefore, to enquire more thoroughly what the one is and what the other.
(141.) Imagination is only
a superior and internal sight. It is exerted when we reproduce single objeCts
in that order in which they have been seen, as a palace or edifice with all its
external and internal strudure, then also its other furnishings, even to the
very masters and servants who inhabit it, without any other connexion and order
than were observed in the sight and hearing ; it is the same with the cities,
provinces, and kingdoms which we have visited. These the internal sight or
imagination observes collectively, while the eye observes them successively;
then also the human body itself and its single viscera and parts, their position
and connection, and finally their whole anatomy. So in other things; as in the
several practical sciences, mechanics, experimental physics, astronomy, yea,
also in theoretical sciences so far as we have learned and retained these by
memory. Therefore imagination is the reproduced memory of things seen and
heard, and a simultaneous intuition of them without any further progression
into those things which have not yet been grasped by the sense.
(142.) Thought, indeed,
does not rest content in the reproducing of mere ideas of the memory or of the
imagination, or in viewing at the same time objeCts which have been
successively brought before the external sight ; but it goes farther, for from
these and from other similar things successively run through and represented,
it gets hold of and brings out some new idea never before seen, and indeed, it
does this by means of a certain analysis not unlike an analysis of infinites,
as for instance by the laws of natural philosophy, and by a mode of reduction,
of transposition and of equation. This equation itself, formed by means of the
mind alone, is called an idea of thought; thus an idea of the imagination is
that which has been insinuated through the doors of the senses, but an idea of
thought is that which is formed by the proper force of the mind from ideas of
the imagination, resembling figures in a calculation. These ideas of thought,
which are called rational, intellectual, and immaterial, once formed, however
much compounded, are nevertheless regarded as simple ideas scarcely otherwise
than as integral equations in algebra and integral analogies assumed for unity
in geometry and arithmetic. The mind distributes and divides these its own
ideas again into some other order or rational form, and thus deduces another
analysis and equation from these; hence arises a still more perfectly rational
and intellectual idea. Thus thought is perfected and becomes more sublime and
purer, and approaches nearer to pure intellect; and it ascends higher in that
degree in which more ideas drawn into itself are. assumed for simple ideas or
truths; and as from these, arranged among themselves analytically, a still
higher idea is elicited. In no other way can we be elevated to a knowledge of
the pure intelleCtory, thus not by speech, or the use of words or of ideas of
the imagination, for its truths are more sublime than words, nor can they be expressed
and laid bare except-by such vocal forms as have been elevated and drawn up to
them.
(143.) Such, therefore, is
thought; from the description of which it is clear what difference there is
between it and the imagination : as, for instance, that the ideas of thought
are acquired by the mind \mens\ itself, but the ideas of the imagination
are only from the external senses ; and that the thought can be perfected and
exalted as it approaches nearer to pure intellect, but imagination is perfected
only by experience of the senses, both its own and those of others; for
whatever the symbols of the memory are, whether acquired through one’s own
senses or through teachers, or through letters, or through tablets, all these
are then ideas of the imagination because they are of the memory alone,
acquired through the senses; but they are so many parts and instrumental causes
which the rational mind can make use of in order that thence it may form its
own intellectual ideas and analyses. From this it follows that so much as we
are able to understand but do not understand so much we hold in the memory; for
the power of-understanding lies in the memory, but from this potency alone no
aCtion follows ; therefore something else must be added in order that we may
understand, and still more that we may acquire wisdom
(144.) Thought, therefore,
is a superior imagination ; and as there is a superior imagination, so also
there is a superior memory. The inferior memory is a memory of all particular
things and of those ideas which are insinuated by way of the senses, both of
sight and of hearing. But the superior memory is a memory of general and universal
things and of all those ideas which are formed and as it were created by means
of the mind proper. These also impress themselves in our memory just as if they
were impressed on the sense, for when we think, the things thought and the
results of these thoughts remain equally fixed. This memory, however, contains
ideas rational, intellectual, and immaterial; while on the other hand, the
inferior memory has only ideas of things purely natural and material. Therefore
there is a memory of universals and a memory of singulars ; and the former is
of thought, but the latter of imagination. These memories, if we observed them
more internally, are distind from each other, for there can be a large memory
of universals and a small memory of singulars, and vice versa; for the
memory of universals comprehends in itself singulars which, as symbols of
confirmation, can easily be drawn out, or can insinuate themselves. In order
that singulars may be properly retained in their order by the memory it is
necessary that we form an idea of all universals, which is called their reason.
From this order [of the memory] singulars may be drawn forth as from a single
general rule and knowledge of calculation ; as in arithmetic and algebra, yea,
as also in other theoretical sciences, we can of ourselves educe an infinite
number of specials and particulars. Thus we are able to run through in a moment
an entire book containing nothing but examples of particulars, and to
understand all the things contained in it as well as the author himself. For
the knowledge of universals can be compared with the sight, which from a tower
or lofty mountain contemplates the entire region and the city below and the
single objeCts in one view and glance, as it were ; but he who walks about
below and in the streets only comprehends certain parts successively, and thus
scarcely one out of a thousand of those things which the memory of universals
comprehends in an instant.
(145.) Imagination,
therefore, only takes in the form of an object, or of objects, and its quality,
according to the order, the placing, and the connecting of the parts or of the
ideas; but the thought draws forth not the material form itself of the parts,
but out of such a form, or from similar forms collected together, it obtains a
certain sense not in the visible parts and in the connection of the parts, but
lying hidden within. Wherefore the thought is said to understand and the
imagination to perceive, and the idea of the thought is called immaterial, and
the idea of imagination material. An intelleCtion [intelleftio] is an
inmost sensation.
(146.) Thought can neither
exist nor subsist, still less be perfected, without pure intellect. Pure
intellect appears as though it flowed into the sphere of the thought to
illuminate it by a certain light of intelligence ; but there is no influx, for
it is only a concurrence, a correspondence or an established harmony, in
which, indeed, there is a greater, better and more perfeCt concurrence and
correspondence, in the degree that the thought is more elevated. But before
plunging our thoughts deeper into these psychological mysteries we ought to
explain the meanings of the words themselves, or what is meant by
understanding, judgment, thought, meditation, fancy, genius, and other terms.
(147.) Such is the progress
and course of the human intellect; for truly what we hear we see, that which we
see we perceive by an inmost sense, that which we perceive we understand, from
things understood we think, from things thought we judge, from things judged we
choose, from things chosen we conclude, from things concluded we will, and at
length we aft. This whole process is called the common intelleft, in which the
senses of hearing and seeing perform their own parts; but not the other senses,
as smell, taste, and touch. The human intelleft, or the intelleft proper to
man, consists in understanding, in thinking, in judging, in choosing, in
concluding, in willing, and in afting accordingly. This whole course is,
indeed, successively run through, but very often without the moments and
degrees being observed. This velocity itself is called presence of mind,
or according to others, the presence of the animus ; but where the
process is slower it is called absence of mind and sluggishness.
There can be presence of imagination without at the same time presence of
intelleft, and vice versa, for the one is distinft from the other, as
was noted above. He who promptly perceives singulars or takes them into the
imagination, while the pure intelleft promptly but slightly concurs, is called ingenious,
and that faculty [is called] genius ; but he who promptly understands
those things which he perceives, while the pure intelleft fully concurs, that
is, who thinks sublimely and sees things in a way more harmoniously with the
ideas or truths of the pure intelleft, he is said to possess judgment,
and that faculty [is called] judgment. Thus genius is the perfection of
the imagination, but judgment is the perfeftion of thought; or genius draws
more from the imagination and the external senses, but judgment draws more from
pure intelleft; hence genius is the charafteristic quality of the intelleft of
animals, but judgment is that of the human intelleft. Genius is common to boys,
youths, the female sex, poets and singers; but judgment is common to adults,
the aged, men, philosophers ; for with age [judgment] matures and increases,
whereas genius decreases. To the most perfeft judgment, not only the pure
intelleft but also the soul, or spiritual intelligence, communicates and
confers rays of its own light. The parts of the human intellect or of thought
are called rational ideas, or simply reasons. When these are first
brought together and turned about before a certain judgment is formed from
them, we are said to ratiocinate, and the minor judgments which are
formed from them are called ratiocinations. Genius, therefore, does not
form judgments [but] ratiocinations. When these ratiocinations are explained in
speech the whole aft is called discourse. But let us treat more especially of
the course and the series of the parts of the intelleft properly human.
(148.) Understanding is a
superior perception, and thus an inmost sensation. When, for instance, those
things are understood which are perceived by an internal sight, I call it
intelleft because it is a sensation and a species of passion, as will be
demonstrated below.
(149.) Thought closely
succeeds perception, for when we call forth ideas of memory, one after another,
particular and common, singular and universal, and others similar and contiguous,
then that operation is properly called thought, or a turning and revolving of
the mind toward every part or idea. More intense and constant thought fixed
deeply on one objeft is called meditation; the state and habit of
meditation is called phantasy.
(150.) When ideas or
reasons are turned and revolved in thought they are at length brought into the
form of some equation, into which are brought all the analyses and rational
analogies, scarcely otherwise than in the analytical calculus of infinites. This
equation is called judgment, to which belong merely those things referring to
the matter proposed. The more perfeft the form of the equation and the more
similar and harmonious the things to be iound in it so much the more perfeft
is the judgment; but it belongs to the pure intelleft to perceive similitudes,
consistencies, harmonies and truths; hence it is an exaft judgment when the
rational
mind has
called the purer intellect into a closer intercourse.
(151.) It is
from this analytical or rational equation, that is, from this judgment, that
innumerable reasons and analogies are brought forward and collected. One reason
is called forth after another in order ; for, that we may know what an
algebraic equation contains in itself, one thing after another must be evolved,
otherwise we perceive nothing distinctly, nor will the mind be able to determine
or follow the particulars distinctly in a£t. This equation, therefore, must be
resolved again before we can understand what it contains. The whole equation cannot
be evolved at the same time, since its parts or analogies have entered into it
successively and are in it simultaneously ; these have therefore to be
successively evolved. This operation is without a proper name, unless it may be
called election, which being free coincides with free will or
with the liberty of willing and acting. For this will choses freely, and thus
concludes what is to be deduced from that rational equation or from the
judgment, and what is to be sent into the will. It may on this account be
called the conclusion. The completion of all is the will. Following
this, and in it, is determination, from whence arises adlion, and
from the action the effect. But before it is concluded that anything
must be sent from the intellect into the will, and from the will determined
through an aCtion, there will have to be present also the love or desire of a
certain end. .For this reason I have not been able to treat of the will until
these loves and desires have been first considered.
(152.) This properly
human intellect now described is called thought; and in what follows we shall
make use of the word thought. The question then arises, How does thought
operate ? It appears from the description that it operates like the
imagination, that is to say, by changing the state of the sensory or of the
cortical gland. But there are common and particular, general, special and
individual, universal and singular changes of the state of that sensory, and
these which embrace particulars, individuals and singulars are properly
thoughts, for they are induced and formed by thought itself. Since the state
thus formed, in order to embrace single particulars, at first obscurely but
afterwards distinctly, is not a state of the imagination, for this is concerned
only with particulars and singulars. That there are infinite states and
infinite changes of state the mind can hardly conceive, or how many analogies
simple and compound there are, and how many series of analogies, or that these
are capable of reduction one into another ; but experience shows that these do
exist and are actually represented, and the very perfection of superior beings
consists of this faculty of changing the state. Since, therefore, the cortical
gland or the internal sensory can put on so many changes of state it follows
that the intelleCtory or inmost cerebrum, that is, the simple cortex, must be
able to produce still more, even to infinity. For example, let us take certain
thoughts reduced to an equation or general formula ; then in this equation as
in a general or common state there may be a thousand analyses. Therefore there
must be a state of the common sensory which comprehends all distinctly. This is
observed in speech itself and in writings, for one particular is educed after
another, and the more distinctly this is done so much the more distinctly do
they inhere in the equation [or proposition] ; for we observe the singulars
under a state common to all. This is so evident that by reflection alone we may
see it to be true.
(153.) But as
it has been said that pure intellect does not flow into the sphere of thoughts,
but concurs with thoughts or with changes of state, it must now be explained in
what way that aCt follows. First let us get a clear idea concerning the form of
the internal sensory or of the cortical gland, namely, that it is indeed the
cerebrum in the smallest form, with its simple cortex and its simple medulla
like the large cerebrum, but more perfectly con- strutted. The change of state
of the above-mentioned internal sensory itself is not able to effett any change
of state in the intellettory or in the simple cortex, just as the change of
state of the entire cerebrum does not change the state of any of its parts but
only the external state of the parts, that is, their position, their connettion
and mutual relation. But since the external state agrees with the internal, or
as the state of the parts cannot help being in agreement in some way with the
internal states or with itself, it follows that the change of .the external
state announces and shows at once that there is a change of internal state, and
of what kind it is. While the internal state is rendered conscious of this
change it perceives at once what it means, precisely as the words or speech
perceived by the hearing are turned immediately as it were into ideas as of
things seen, not by influx but by correspondence. For an idea can be expressed
by another word and a different articulate sound and still the same idea will
recur, as whether we speak the same sentence in Greek, Latin, French, Italian,
English, or Swedish, still the same visual idea is presented. It is the use
and culture, then, itself that causes that one idea corresponds to another.
The same relation holds with the ideas of memory, of imagination, of thought,
and of the pure intellett. An internal change of state of the sensory is an
external change of state of the intellettory, but by use and experience the
intellettory perceives from this external change of state what such a change
means ; at once it concurs, and by its concurrence produces a corresponding
idea of the pure intellett. Accordingly the more universal, general, and
common the change of state is so much the more distinttly is it perceived, as
the essence and nature of the intellettory is thus more nearly reached. For all
ideas are universal truths, and by verbal terminations they may be made more
abstratt.
(154.) From this it follows that we are able to come nearer
and nearer to the pure intellect, and indeed, by means of universal ideas and a
certain passive power; that as we remove particular ideas or withdraw the mind
from limitations—from the more broken, limited and material ideas, and at the
same time from desires and loves which are purely natural,—then the human
intellect, quiet and free from foreign disturbance, and dwelling alone with its
own and what belongs to pure intellect, causes that our mind shall not suffer
other changes or give forth other reasons than those which accord with the
ideas of pure intellect. On this account our intellect experiences an inmost
tranquillity and joy; for then this concurrence appears like the influx of a
certain light of intelligence, illumining the whole sphere of thought; and in a
kind of unanimity, I know not whence, it constrains the whole mind, and
inmostly dictates what is true and good and what is false or evil. In this way
our intellect is perfected by the maturing judgment ; and, if I may speak from
theoretical anatomy itself, when the mind comes into this state it is seen that
then the simple medulla itself consists of simple fibres only, with a few vessels
; for as many as are the simple fibres so many are the intellectual rays of
pure intellect ; but as many as are the vessels so many are the shades which
darken the luminous or intellectual rays. But these observations are offered
merely in passing.
(155.) From
these things it already appears how the human intellect may be perfected ; thus
that in tender infancy there is none, that it may be increased in youth,
perfected in adult age, that the judgment afterwards increases, while the
genius or imagination decreases. For there can be no thought in infancy and
still less in the embryo ; wherefore there is a concurrence, correspondence,
or established harmony, but not influx. Use and cultivation will bring about
the correspondence and harmony, since the pure intellect concurs with every
perceived change. But still, whether in the embryo or in the infant, or'in
a" stupid, or in an insane person, , the pure intellect remains always the
same ; for it can-, not unfold itself before it perceives the changes of state
to which it shall correspond, nor can' the sensory change its own states unless
it shall learn how to do so, by the use and the influx of the external
sensations, as, has been noted above. Thus the pure intellect comes forth and
emerges just as from a prison in which it has been shut up, or from its own
inmost bosom, according to the induced mutability [or power of change].. Thus
appears what has been present from the beginning of formation, but could not
sooner evolve itself; and when it does evolve itself, which takes place in the
course of age, then it exhibits itself as most present in every instant, in the
single forms and harmonies of words, and in finding out their inmost meaning
from the connection and order of the ideas alone.
(156.) But
experience itself as well as theory proves that the human intellect proper
depends little upon its pure intellect, but rather upon what is imagined, and
even that the imagination depends more upon its sensations than upon its own
intellect or thought ; thence is our intellect exceedingly impure, so much so
that it deserves rather to be called spurious and adulterous. Nevertheless it
appears to us so beautiful and pure that we believe it to be the soul itself,
which is not pure intellect merely, but even spiritual intelligence. How
mistaken all this is appears from the mere statement. Our intellect is even so
alienated ofttimes from the pure intellect that They combat each other, the one
acknowledging worldly things as truths, the other knowing them to be wholly
mendacious and that their fallacious ornaments pass them off for truths to
gain applause.
(157.)
Meanwhile, in order that the human intellect may exist, it is necessary that
the truths themselves be variegated and as it were modified by things
mendacious, or true things with false, good with evil. From this mixed and
relative variety and this coming together of opposites there arises a rational
analysis. First it gives birth to opinion, hypothesis, some unknown principle,
and many other things proper to the human intellect. Without a variation of
intelligence and ignorance, thought and judgment can no more exist than a
visual image without light and shade ; which is the reason why light and clearness
are predicated of intelligence, and shade and darkness of ignorance, for these
have a mutual correspondence. Without such a variation there would be no
society on the earth, no diversity of thought, manners, actions, bodies, no
affirmations or negations, no uncertain results of things, no auguries, indeed
no desires of ends to be attained, no terrestial loves, none of all those other
things which as necessities contribute to human society itself. Neither would
there be any speech or communication of thought by means of discourse unless by
some superior or angelic discourse, which has nothing to do with earthly
things.
(158.) The
various kinds of insanity, which are infinite in number, originate from thence,
that the states of the sensories are so perverted that they can undergo no
changes except what are irregular and in disagreement with the pure intellect;
and as the intelleftory concurs [with the changes of the sensory] it concurs by
the same law even with these [disorderly ones], and thus seems to consent, even
though it wholly dissents. Thus it is the thought itself or the human intelleft
which is insane, and not the pure intelleft.
XII.
Of
the Intercourse of the Soul and the Body.
(159.) It will be vain to inquire
how the soul communicates with the body, unless it first be ascertained what
the soul and what the body is, as also what is sensation, imagination, thought,
the pure intellect, the spiritual [intelligence ], what is will and action,
what are the internal and external organs both of sense and motion, what is the
connection of the organism, and a vast number of other points. For so long as
it is unknown what the soul and the body are, and what mediates between these,
all co-operation, communication, and intercourse must necessarily remain
unknown. Only the unknown can be educed from the unknown; and about things
whose essentials are unknown to us we can only speak ignorantly, however long
we keep on talking. But still I will admit that I seem to myself not to have
arrived at a single part of so vast a thought, supposing the thought itself to
consist of myriads of myriads of parts, but only to have gathered up an obscure
idea from what has been premised. But it may be more clearly seen that external
sensations, and likewise actions, communicate with internal and the inmost
sensations, even with the soul and its intelligence ; for it is of the soul,
which is the motive principle, the life and essence of our body, that in the
body we live, move, and are.
(160.) This
communication appears as though it were influx, for the mode and image of the
outer sense seem to pass over into the idea of the inner sense ; but lest the
appearance should deceive us, let us penetrate by rational intuition into the
very connexions themselves of things, otherwise we shall easily mistake
fallacies for truths.
(161.) It is
evident that articulate sounds or words, or modes of hearing, in the brain or
in the common sensory, are turned into ideas similar to those of sight, or into
so many images ; as when with words or in speech we describe a house or
palace, a city, meadows, fields, the sky, and other things, at once the idea of
these things is represented ; but this communication or intercourse cannot be
called influx nor harmony, but an acquired correspondence. The sound of
these words is only a vibration, which cannot call forth an idea like that of
sight. For whether we speak of palaces, cities, and fields in French, English,
Latin, or Greek, this same idea is awakened, although the sound or the
articulation of the sound is altogether different. But this correspondence is
acquired by use and culture, for we learn to speak the language, and thus that
such a modulation means such an image or such a villa or piXure ; as often as
that articulation of sound returns so often the same idea returns. A physical
and anatomical reason can also be given ; for the sounds themselves, whether
articulate and compound or simple sounds, put in trembling motion the fibres,
the cortex, and the meninges. This trembling causes to vibrate the substances
themselves, and it produces an alternate local motion of their parts. This
alternate vibration induces no change in the internal state of the parts, but
only in their external state 'or in the brain itself. Still the parts
themselves, on account of the conneXion which they mutually hold and maintain
among themselves, as also on account of the form itself, that is, their
situation and order, perceive at once not only that there is a mutation but
even what kind of a mutation is induced, and from use they learn what such a
mutation means ; consequently the sensory at length concurs with its idea.
(162.) But
besides this acquired correspondence between the articulate sounds of speech
or of hearing, and the ideas of the internal sight or imagination, there is
also a natural correspondence, which flows not from the sounds
themselves as sounds, but from their harmony, as from the melody of a song,
from musical harmony, from the symmetry of words, or from the rising and
falling of the voice in speaking, as also from the sound even of certain words
which are called natural utterances ; for they immediately excite the mind,
affecting it either with love, or joy, or grief; such also is the speech of the
brute animals. The cause is the same, originating doubtless from the
connection, situation, order, form, or mutual harmony of the parts of the brain
among themselves ; which harmony corresponds with the form and internal state
of the parts. For the form next below descends from the form above, and is thus
born into a likeness of its superior, its prior, or its parent,
(163.) The
communication of external with internal sight, or of the sensation of ocular
sight with the imagination, takes place by natural correspondence. As
for the . sight itself, this does not exist in the eye, but in the common
sensory or cortical brain ; it indeed passes through the eye, but it does not
stop until by means of the fibres of the optic nerve and the medullary
[substances] of the brain, it has raised itself or ascended even to the origins
of the fibres, or to the cortical substance of the brain. As soon as it touches
those origins it diffuses itself over their entire surface, and consequently
through the entire structure ; thus the ocular sight exists in this sensory
itself, between which and the eye there is a continuous connection ; this
communication may in a certain sense be called influx, but it is rather the
presence in the internal sensory of that image which was in the external. It is
only sight, however ; it is not imagination. Likewise with the hearing, which
is not an aCtivity of the ear, but properly of the brain ; for it is conducted
by continuous fibres even to the brain; and thus the hearing and the sight can
be brought together. For the hearing is an experience of the whole brain, and
is a trembling of its parts ; while the sight is an experience of the parts of
the brain, or of the little brains, that is, the cortical glandules, and it is
accomplished by a still more subtle trembling which causes to vibrate very
slightly every part of its surface and structure. But, further, the
communication of the sight with the imagination takes place through both the natural
and the acquired correspondence at once ; for while the images and
phenomena of the ocular sight appeal to this common sensory, or to its own
inner little sensories, the harmony itself of the object, of the images or of
the phenomena, affects the sensory or these little sensories in such manner
that at once their state undergoes a certain change; for the harmonious
exhilarates, expands and delights the sensory, while the inharmonious
contracts, twists and grieves it. There are infinite such changes of state, as
many, indeed, as there are kinds and species of harmonies and discords, and as
many as there are generic, specific and individual differences, and as many as
there are relations between opposites. Thus it is not the sight itself, but it
is the harmony in the objeHs or between the objects of sight which induces this
change. It is the same with the eye itself, and with the ear, which change
their state according to the quality of the objedt presented. For the eye, like
the body itself and its every fibre, even when most lightly touched, either
contracts or expands, drawing itself in at that which would injure it and
expanding itself at everything which would delight and restore it. Such also is
the affection of the brain in common as produced by the harmony of sounds ;
this change of the sensory takes place by natural correspondence; the
harmony is that of the parts among themselves, since an order intervenes, and a
form is there which we declare to be the vortical ; and such as is the harmony
such is the correspondence. The brain and the human sensory are indeed formed
into such a correspondence, but as to the changes of state, these exist
therein, not in acSt but in potency; unlike the case of brute animals, in which
these are in a<St from the very birth ; which is the reason why such changes
of state are to be induced in man by use and culture, or adlually, and why when
they are induced they remain as aquisitions. Thence comes the memory and its
ideas, and when these are reproduced then imagination exists. Therefore between
the sight and the imagination there intercedes a communication by acquired
correspondence, which presupposes a natural correspondence; for in
this instance the one cannot be without the other.
(164.) But the
imagination does not communicate with the thought by any correspondence natural
or acquired, for thought itself is equally with the imagination a change ■of
state ; it is, indeed, a more perfect imagination, the changes of whose states
are induced by the habit of imagining abstractly from the sensations of sight.
We have therefore to inquire what is the communication between the imagination
or thought and the pure intellect ; for in the degree that the imagination
communicates the more nearly and perfectly with the pure intellect the more
perfect does it become, and it is called thought and the purer and more
rational intellect.
(165.)
Communication is effected between thought and the pure intellect equally by natural
and acquired correspondence; for the one presupposes the other. For the
pure intellectory is constituted of a certain simple cortical substance
analogous to that which is in the brain ; and since the internal sensory or
cortical gland is the brain in its smallest form, and accordingly more simple
and perfet, therefore from the brain and from the communication of hearing and
sight with the imagination we may learn what is the communication of
imagination or of thought with the pure intellect or with the intellecStory,
that is, with that simple and analogous cortical substance. The ideas
themselves of the imagination or of thought induce a change of state in the
external intelleftory, for they disturb those simple substances in their
position, their con- neftion, and their order, and so change the form and
harmony of their state ; consequently this intelleftory understands from use
what such a change signifies, and thence arises and is formed a correspondence
which is to be called acquired; but the harmony itself in and between
the ideas which are the rational and intelleftual ideas of the mind \inens\
affeft the intelleftory itself, not otherwise than as the harmony of objefts
of sight affeft the sensory itself, and thus arises a natural
correspondence. This harmony is not the same as that of the objefts of
sight, but is a rational harmony, and has for its objeft the true and the
false, the morally good and bad. The harmony itself in the good and between
the good is called love, which allures, and produces a rational pleasure, and
excites the desire that the effeft of love may be obtained, which effeft is
called the end desired. Such harmony, love, rational delight, and end, in the
ideas themselves and among them, naturally affeft the pure intelleftory, whose
ideas are pure natural truths and its harmonies pure natural goodnesses. There
need be the less doubt regarding the natural correspondence, since we perceive
by refleftion alone that there is something interior in our thought which consents
or dissents, affirms or denies, and that the truths themselves in certain
propositions shine forth naturally as if from themselves ; thus that there is a
certain internal man which corresponds with the external man. That there is
also an acquired correspondence appears from this, that those ideas
which are reproduced by changes of the state of the sensory are certain natural
ones agreeing with the harmonies of the objefts in and among themselves, but
that those harmonies are still to be artificially co-ordinated and composed
that the intelleftory may derive a sense from them and understand what they
signify. For the intelleftory itself is not bound to ideas and words, but in
order that it may understand the meaning of
THE
INTERCOURSE OF SOUL AND BODY. IO3 words it must know from use what a certain
change [of its state] implies. Meanwhile we may incline to either opinion, as
to whether the intelleCtory, because not immediately connected with ideas nor
instructed by them, knows naturally and of itself what a change of its external
state means; concerning these points I am in doubt.
(166.) But it will now be asked,
What is the communication between the pure intellect and the soul? That
intelleCtory which is assimilated to a certain simple cortex from which the
simple fibres shoot forth as so many intellectual rays, cannot be the soul
itself, for the intelleCtory must be created and formed out of substances
which have a superior form, essence, and spiritual intelligence. That that
communication is a correspondence will be understood from the
parallelism or analogy furnished above ; for the soul itself, which has formed
this intelleCtory, perceives a change of its state, as though outside of
itself, as often as the intelleCtory experiences its changes. Such accordingly
is the correspondence that the soul, from itself, without previous exercise or
experience, understands what these changes mean. For the pure intellect is not
instructed by the experience of the senses, still less the soul which has
established this its intelleCtory; as may be proved by innumerable
psychological phenomena, as from this universal proposition, which may be
affirmed as it were at will and without arguments a posteriori, namely,
That the natural cannot flow into the spiritual, or that the rational man does
not learn that which is purely spiritual from himself. The intelleCtory itself
is the first form of nature, thence the first natural ; but the soul is
spiritual and above the natural, although through the pure intellect it operates that which is
natural.
(167.) From
this it will now appear that the intcr- course between the sensations of the
body does not take place by any influx whatever, least of all by a physical
influx, unless we wish to understand by influx a natural correspondence, but
even then it is an influx of the harmony itself and not an influx of the
things which form the harmony. The author of Occasional Causes seems to have understood
such an influx [of harmony to exist]. The natural correspondence itself
coincides with pre- established harmony, and the acquired correspondence with
the co-established harmony; for even the natural correspondence itself flows
from the co-established harmony, which in the soul is indeed pre-established,
but between the soul and intellect, and between this and the thought, is
co-established ; still, existing as it has before other correspondences have
been formed, it may be said to be pre-established, or established before those harmonies.
In this way may be reconciled the hypotheses regarding the intercourse of the
body and the soul ; of those, namely,who assert occasional causes, those
claiming a physical influx, and of those who claim a pre-established harmony
; for the ways, modes, and differences
of com-
THE
INTERCOURSE OF SOUL AND BODY. IO5 munication being rightly understood, the writings of
the three schools are seen to agree. On account of this agree-
mechanics, is extended at the same instant
in which a particular desire arises in the soul, etc.).
*’ The relation of this theory of
Pre-established Harmony to the two other possible explanations of the
correspondence between soul and body is illustrated by Leibnitz through the
following comparison : A constant agreement between two clocks can be effected
in either one of three ways, the first of which corresponds with the doctrine
of a Physical Interaction between body and soul, the second with the doctrine
of Occasionalism, and the third with the system of Pre-established Harmony.
Either both clocks may be so connected with each other, through some sort of
mechanism, that the motion of the one shall exert a determining influence on
the motion of the other, or some one may be charged constantly to set the one
so that it may agree with the other, or both may have been constructed in the
beginning with such perfect exactness that their permanent agreement can be
reckoned on without the interference of the rectifying hand of the workman.
Since Leibnitz held the exertion of a physical influence by the soul on the
body, or vice versa; to be impossible, it only remained for him to
choose between the last two theories, and he decided in favour of the theory of
a * consentement preetabli,' because he considered this way of securing
agreement more natural and worthy of God than that of occasional
interference.”—Ibid., p. 109.
To the three theories of intercourse
between body and soul here named, namely, Physical Influx, Occasional Influx,
and Pre-established Harmony, Swedenborg evidently does not intend to add a
third, but rather hopes to find a term which shall be inclusive of the truth
concealed in all the three. This he finds in Correspondence, when understood in
its two senses, namely, as Natural and Acquired; the Natural Correspondence
arising from a pre-established harmony in the soul, which however is a
co-established harmony or occasional influx in each instance of bodily adtion.
In his later theological writings Swedenborg emphatically declares for the
theory of Occasional Influx, which he designates distinctly as “Spiritual
Influx” or that of “the soul into the body,” as maintained by the "
followers of Descartes.” “ This theory,” he says, " originates in order
and its laws. For the soul is a spiritual substance, and therefore purer,
prior, and interior; but the body is material and therefore grosser, posterior,
and exterior; and it is according to order that the purer should flow into the
grosser, the prior into the posterior, and the interior into the exterior, thus
what is spiritual into what is material, and not the contrary; consequently for
the cogitative mind to flow into the sight according to the state induced
on the eyes by the objefts before them, which state that mind disposes
also at its pleasure, and likewise for 1 the perceptive mind to flow
into the hearing, according to the state induced on the ears by
speech."
The other two theories, both that of
Physical Influx which he attributes to Aristotle and the Schoolmen, and that
of Pre-established Harmony which he attributes to Leibnitz, he repudiates as
arising from appearances and fallacies, it being a “ fallacy of the reasoning
faculty to establish that which is simultaneous and to exclude that which is
successive. For the mind in its operation adts as a one and simultaneously with
the body; but still, every operation is first successive and afterwards simultaneous.
Now, successive operation is Influx and simultaneous operation is Harmony , as
when the mind thinks and afterward speaks, or when it wills and afterward
adts." See the tradl On the Intercourse of the Soul and the Body,
nos. 1-18. By simultaneous operation and harmony are here apparently meant the
same as what in the present number the author calls natural correspondence and
pre-established harmony, while successive operation and influx coincide with
the acquired correspondence and co-established harmony. [7r.
ment I would
wish that this intercourse might be said to take place by correspondence. For so do these hypotheses
also mutually correspond.
(168.) But
this intercourse’ or communication is that of the bodily senses with the soul.
It may be asked what is the communication of the actions with the soul, since,
indeed, both body and soul possess the power of acting as well as of being
aCted upon. Even the passion or sensation itself performs a certain gyre and
goes over into action; for it has been shown that the internal sensory
perceives and understands ; it revolves the things understood, or it thinks ;
from things thought over it judges ; from things judged it selects what agrees,
and so it concludes, wishes, determines, aCts, and thus by action produces an
effeCt agreeing with the end desired and understood. Such being the gyre which
takes place before a sensation passes over into aCtion, it is asked what is the
intercourse of the actions of the body with the soul.
(169.) The
cortical brain is a common motory as well as a common sensory; from this depend
the actions of the body which take place through the muscles. This common
motory or cortex of the brain actually expands and contracts itself while it is
determining any action ; and this constriction and expansion is called determination.
By this expansion and constriction, or by the systole and diastole, it expels
through the composite and simple fibres its animal spirit and purer blood which
produce that aCtion, and thence there is a real communication of operations
by means of a fluid. Hence there is in the sensory the force itself aCting or
determining; but in the muscle there is the aCtion which takes place through
the connection and influx of the fibres and of the fluid in the fibres into the
motor-fibres of the muscle, according to the nature of the determining force
and the form and organism of the muscles. For according to the rule, from force
follows aCtion. But how the will produces this force may be understood by
comparison with endeavour. The
THE
INTERCOURSE OF SOUL AND BODY. I07 will is as it were endeavour ; this when resistence is
removed breaks into open motion. So the will when rational obstacles or
impossibilities are removed breaks into open action. Thus the will is as it
were a perpetual effort to expand and contract its sensory as soon as the
intellect perceives that nothing opposes.
(170.) But the
pure intellect or the intelleCtory concurs by consent with this force or first
action ; for the sensory cannot be expanded or constricted unless the
intelleCtory. consents, since to this belong the simple fibres, yea, the
beginnings of the simple fibres, which unless they concur no aCtion whatever
can be determined. For in order that the purer blood may be determined through
the medullary fibre of the brain, and the nerve of the body into the motor
fibres of the muscle, it is also necessary that the animal spirit shall at the
same time be determined through the simple fibres ; without the agreement of
both, the animal machine would labor and the fibres be broken asunder. To the
sensory itself is given the power of changing its internal state, which is the
external state of the intelleCtory ; therefore whether the intelleCtory wills
or not, still it must concur ; for unless it favors by consent and concurs, the
external state of the intelleCtory itself, the internal state of the sensory,
as also of the brain which is the external state of the sensory, and hence the
state of the whole body, would run the risk of perishing and of becoming
extinCt and void. Hence the necessity of preserving health and integrity
enjoins that the intellect shall descend into those parts and consent. We say
“favor with consent” when loves and ends agree, or correspond ; otherwise we
say simple “concur for in order that there may be aCtion there will’ be a
principal cause, etc.
(171.) But
indeed, when no rational will precedes, as in the cerebellum and in the brain
itself during sleep, then every force begins immediately in the pure intellect,
the natural necessity itself and the safety of the whole kingdom impelling.
For the intellect is in a moment rendered conscious even of every minutest
change of its’ body and of its parts, which is the reason why the intellect
restores what the will destroys, and why the will is so blind that it may drive
its body at any moment upon the rocks, like the sailor the ship, while the
intellect in the time of the sensory’s quiet and of sleep sets it free again
and brings it always into a new port. This is called instinCt, for the human
intellect does not become conscious of its operations ; inasmuch as whatever
flows immediately from the pure intellect does not come to the consciousness of
our mind. This is the reason why that stupendous economy of the natural body
flows spontaneously, as it were, by a most constant law, according to all the
science of nature ; for the pure intellect is itself science, harmony, order,
truth.
(172.) The
soul does not concur with the pure intellect by consent, for producing adion,
but by permission ; for it suffers the sensory to aCt, otherwise there would be
no free choice of moral good and evil; for as soon as the soul perceives from
the consent of the intelleCtory that the sensory wishes to operate, in a
certain way it suffers and permits the animal machine which is below itself so
to aCt, as likewise the intelleCtory itself in the case of night-walkers ; for
all the soul’s liberty of aCting in its own body is, since the fall of the
first man, taken away, and given to the sensory ; all that is left to the soul
is that it may supply and maintain in the several parts [singulis] the
faculty or power of aCting and of suffering.
(173.) From
these things it will appear how the soul concurs with the aCtions of her body,
namely, by permitting ; while the pure intelleCtory concurs by consenting ;
but the sensory by aCtive force or by aCting: from this follows the aCtion of
the muscle which is held to aCt and to obey just as the sensory orders, and
thus the body concurs by obeying.
(174.) But it
is further asked, How does the soul com-
THE
INTERCOURSE OF SOUL AND BODY. IC9 municate with the motory and sensory organ of her body
so that she may supply to them the faculty of acting and of feeling, and
sustain this faculty? From what has been above stated it plainly appears that
there is a soul which feels ; that is to say, it sees, hears, tastes,
perceives, thinks, understands, judges, wills; or that the body derives from
the soul its power of feeling and of ailing. But this is not a communication or
intercourse ; it is the presence itself of the soul, which actually is in the
whole and in every part of her body. For there is no external motory or sensory
organ which does not consist of vessels and fibres; no vessel which is not
constructed out of fibres, no such fibre which is not constructed out of
simple fibres, and no simple fibre which does not derive its origin from the
intelleCtory, which itself is derived from the substances of its soul; consequently
there is no external motory or sensory organ which does not derive its essence
from the soul ; thus there is a real presence or a kind of omnipresence of the
soul everywhere, which forms the organs so that they shall perceive thus and
not otherwise ; for every one [of these] derives from its form that it is such
as it is taken to be. Especially also the soul conduCts the single fibres in
which she entirely resides, from the organs to the brain, where she has formed
the common sensory which perceives distinctly things presented, and understands
them in its manner. For the sensory derives from its form also that it is what
it is, and that particulars communicate by a certain correspondence with one
another and at the same time with the man himself, so that he may know those
things which occur and happen without.
Part Third
THE
AFFECTIONS.
XIII.
Of Harmonies, and the Affections thence orig-
inating, and of the Desires in general.
(175.) There is no entity
and no substance in the universe without form; that it is anything and
that it is such as it is, is owing wholly to form. The essential determinations
constitute form ; and what those essences are which are determined cannot be conceived
without the idea of parts or of substances, nor this determination itself without
the idea of fluxion or co-existence ; these substances themselves are called
determinating, and that which is determined by substances is a new but
composite substance, in which there is form.
(176.) The substances
which determine themselves or are determined hold a mutual relation, and this
is called analogy ; the analogy of all the determinations, whether it be
successive or simultaneous, is called Harmony or Discord. Therefore each form
has either its harmony or discord. From the harmony or the discord is known the
quality of the form.
.(177.) As forms are
perfect or imperfect so also are the harmonies. There are forms which in
themselves and by their nature are most perfect, and those which are in
themselves and by their nature most imperfect, between which there are infinite
degrees ; so with the harmonies.
Forms and harmonies are
most perfedt in themselves and by their own nature when this is perfedt. But
forms and harmonies are also imperfedt by nature, but this is then called an
imperfedt nature. The nearer the forms approach to perfedt nature so much the
more harmonious are they, and vice versa.
(178.) The forms which are
more simple, prior, and superior, in themselves and by their nature are more
perfedt than the composite, the posterior, and inferior forms ; likewise the
harmonies. But from examples :—The most perfedt angular form or form of angles
is the equilateral triangle or a figure of three similar corners ; the more imperfedt
angular form is the oblong, the parallelogram, the trapezium, and others
similar. The spherical or circular form is in itself and by its nature more
perfedt than the triangular form, but the most perfedt of the spherical forms is
the circular ; less perfedt are the ellipses, cycloids, parabolae, and others.
Likewise in superior forms, whether it be in spiral, vortical, celestial or
spiritual. Such as are the forms such are the harmonies, which derive their
entire quality from their forms.
(179.) In every form there
is its state, which is the coexistence of the substances which are
being or have been determined. This state is itself called harmonious
when the substances co-exist or succeed according to the perfedt order of
nature.
(180.) Every form except
the angular, in the atmospheric world and in the animal and vegetable
kingdoms, is able to change its state, and from a more perfedt natural state to
pass over into imperfedt ones, and from these to return again into the more perfedt.
The power of changing state is itself the perfedtion of form, which in
superior forms is so great that these changes of state exceed all number, and
are to be reckoned as infinite.
(181.) When a circular
form passes over into elliptical and other geometrical curves, it is said to
change its state ; thus also when a spiral form passes into spirals of another
genus, geometrical or arithmetical, it is said to change its state. It is the
same with the superior forms, whose varieties of form cannot be geometrically
demonstrated nor expressed in words. The most perfect form, in whatever degree,
is unchangeable; but the others in their degree are changeable; so the circle
is alone in the circular form, but there are infinite ellipses ; and so with
the rest.
(182.) But still the
simple expansions and contractions of the same form are not changes, for in the
expanded or the contracted form the same essential determinations, analogies,
and harmonies remain ; they are rather modifications by which the forms
exercise their forces. But by expansions or contraCtions the very nature of the
form of exercising its forces is varied.
(183.) Forms which are
able perfectly to change their states, at once to expand and compress, actually
produce harmonies by change of their state, as also by as many and as various
modifications ate possible. These same changes of state which forms produce are
again so many essential determinations from which results a new form having its
own state and harmony. From these again when there are many similar ones, new
forms arise from the changes of state, and so on ; similarly with the harmonies.
(184.) All changes of
state take place successively; but when, by these, new forms are produced, then
all the changes of state which have been made successively exist in these
simultaneously. Thus there are forms, states of forms, and harmonies common and
particular, universal and singular, or general, special, and individual. From
which it appears how infinite a diversity there is of forms, states, and
harmonies.
(185.) But modifications,
which are variations of dimension, or expansion or contraction of the
substance to which the form belongs, produce a harmony by a certain mutual
relation. Such are the harmonies of sounds, of objects
of sight, of
colours, in and among themselves.
Thence it follows that
there are also forms of modes which are simply called modifications.
(186.) Harmonies of the
atmospheric world are effected by modifications only, and not by changes of
state. The forces are in these modifications themselves. But the harmonies of
the animal kingdom are produced as well by the modifications which are its so
many forces and actions, as by the changes of state which are so many
sensations.
(187.) The organs of the
animal kingdom, both external and internal, are so formed that they may
receive modifications of the atmospheric world and turn these into sensations ;
thus the modifications of the air they turn into the sensations of hearing, and
the modifications of ether into the sensations of sight. And especially the
organs named, particularly the internal, are afiedled, not by the modifications
themselves but by the harmonies of the modifications, in such manner that they
change their states conformably to the harmonies, whence come perceptions. Thus
is sight turned into imagination, and imagination into ideas. This is said to
take place by natural correspondence.
(188.) Neither the
external nor the internal organs of all are affedled similarly by the same
harmonies of the modifications of the atmospheric world, but according to the
quality of the organs so they are affedted, for so do they correspond. The
diversity of the reception of harmonies or the diversity of affedtions is as
great as the diversity of brains or of men.
(189.) Affedlions are
changes of state corresponding to the harmonies which flow especially into the
sensorial organs. The whole brain or the common sensory is af- fedted by the
sonorous harmonies of the hearing; the inner sensory by the harmonies of the
objedls of the sight; the pure intelledt by the harmonies of the ideas of the
imagination, and especially of the thought; the soul by the harmony of the
natural truths of the pure intelledt;
God by the harmonies of
the higher or spiritual truths of the soul.
(190.) From this it
appears that there is nothing in the created universe which cannot be referred
to forms, or to ideas which are so many forms, or to harmonies and to
affections, or that cannot be explained by means of forms, ideas, harmonies,
and affections.
(191.) All harmonies
affeCt the sensorial organs, both external and internal, either pleasantly and
delightfully or unpleasantly and undelightfully, that is, they either afford
joy or they cause sadness. The more perfeCt harmonies are pleasant and
delightful, but the more imper- feCi or the disharmonies are unpleasant and
undelightful. For the delightful harmonies soothe the sensories by refreshing
and vivifying them, but the undelightful or the disharmonies grate against them
because they are destructive and deadening.
(192.) But all harmonies
are relative to the harmonic state of the sensory which is affeCted. PerfeCt
harmonies seem undelightful in the sensory whose state is disharmonious, and
as the harmonies are the more perfeCt so much the more undelightful are they to
it ; therefore the disharmonies are the very harmonies themselves of such a
sensory. But because the harmonies, like forms, are perfeCt or imperfeCt in
themselves, both in their nature and in their essence, we have to judge from
the affeCtions concerning the state of the sensory. But to judge truly it is
requisite that the state of the sensory of the person judging be perfectly
harmonious.
(193.) Therefore such as
is the state of the whole brain such will be its affeCtion by the harmonies of
sounds of hearing ; as is the inner sensory so its affedtion by harmonies of
objedts of sight; as is the state of the intellect so its affeCtion by
harmonies of-ideas of thought ; as is the state of the soul so its affeCtion by
the harmonies of natural truths. God, who is love and perfection itself,
judges from himself concerning the harmonies of the spiritual truths of the
soul. The devil is affeCted unpleasantly and saddened by the most perfect
spiritual harmonies, but is happily affected and delighted by disharmonies.
(194.) We seek and desire
what affects our senses pleasantly and delightfully; we are averse to what
affeCts us in an opposite manner; for pleasant and delightful things soothe,
refresh, and vivify, but the unpleasant and undelightful are grating,
destroying, and mortifying ; . therefore so far as we love our integrity,
health, and preservation, so far we desire pleasant and delightful affections ;
and as much as we hate infirmities, destruction and death, so far we are averse
to what is unpleasant and undelightful. On this account the brain seeks, longs
for, and desires the allurements of touch, the sweetnesses of taste, the
pleasantnesses of smell, and the harmonies of hearing ; the inner sensory, the
beauties and the pleasantnesses of objeCts of the sight ; the pure intellect,
the verisimilitudes and delights of the rational ideas of thought; the soul,
the favour and love of the natural truth of the pure intellect; God, the health
and happiness of souls.
(195.) But our external
and internal sensories are so conjoined and so distinCt that what the one seeks
the other very often is averse to, and vice versa. The external
sensories are able to be delighted with the harmonies of the world and with the
pleasures of the body, but the inner sensory is saddened by these. The
intelleCtory on the other hand is made happy in this saddening; and so on. Thus
often the internal is in collision and combat with the external man. Anatomy
itself declares the same fa Ct, that the organ of seeing and of hearing is one
thing, and the common sensory or the brain is another ; while the inner sensory
or the cortex of the brain is something still different; and so is the pure
intellect or the simple cortex of each internal sensory. The form, state, and
harmony of one of these may differ immensely from that of another; whatever is
the connection, situation, and order of the substance of the brain, there may
be nevertheless a connection, situation, and order of more simple substances
of the inner sensory, because a correspondence is acquired by use and
cultivation. For each has its own selfhood ; and the state which is the
internal of the one is the external of the other, and so on. Thus there are
given no similar affeCtions, and rarely do they correspond to each other in the
sensories.
(196.) Appetite is
predicated of all those pleasant affections which are proper to the body, its
viscera and organs. Its affeCtions are themselves called pleasures, delights.
Longing \cupiditas\ is predicated of all those pleasant affeCtions which
are proper to the brain or common sensory; desire, as also wish, of all those
which are proper to the inner sensory; loves, of those which are of the pure
intellect; love, simply of those which are of the soul. But owing to these
distinctions being unknown, the one of these affeCtions is by many taken for
another.
XIV.
Of the Lower Mind [Animus], and its
Affections in particular.
(197.) To the brain are
attributed sensations, as the sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch;
wherefore the brain is called the Common Sensory; its organs and instruments
are in the body and of the body, such as the eye, ear, nostrils, tongue, and
skin. These do not feel, but they distinguish, receive, and transmit the forms
of touch to the brain ; which is the reason why, when the brain is diseased,
the senses, which appear as if they were in the organs themselves, grow
languid.
(198.) Sensations,
however, are not attributed to the animus [or lower mind], but those affections
which also are called its passions. For the cerebrum feels, but is affeCted by
sensations according to its form. Therefore the animus is the form of the
ideas of the common or external sensory, and the aCtive and living
principle of all the changes of the body. As the animus is affeCted, so it
desires, and as the desire of the animus such is the pleasure of the body ; for
the animus is such as the form of the sensory is ; thus from the form of the
sensory we may judge of the animus, and from the animus we may judge of the
sensory.
(199.) The affections of
the animus either agree or disagree in general with the common sensory. Those
which agree are pleasant, those which disagree are unpleasant. Pleasant
affeCtions expand the brain and diffuse the animus ; unpleasant affeCtions
compress the brain and confine the animus. But irregular affeCtions twist the
brain and confuse the animus. Pleasant affections refresh the brain and
exhilarate the animus; unpleasant ones wound the brain and sadden the animus.
Pleasant affeCtions restore the brain with new heat and the animus with new
life ; but unpleasant affeCtions destroy the brain and extinguish the animus.
Thus pleasant affections are so many heatings of the brain, and consequently
of the body, and so many resuscitations of the life of the animus, and consequently
of the sensations and actions of the body ; but the unpleasant affeCtions are
so many torpors and frigidnesses of the brain and therefore of the body, and
so many perils of the life, and swoons and deaths of the animus and thus of the
sensations and aCtions of the body. For the animus and its affeCtions, both
pleasant and unpleasant, die out with the brain.
(200.) There are several
kinds and numberless species of affections of the animus ; as, joy and sadness,
patience and anger, loves and hatreds, envy, courage and fear, temperance and
intemperance, clemency and cruelty, ambition and pride, liberality and
avarice, and many more. But there are those which belong to the common sensory
and the animus and are called the animal affeCtions, and those which belong to
the internal sensory and its mind [mens] and are called the rational
affeCtions ; and there are those which participate in both. Therefore we must
treat of each in particular.
Joy.
(201.) Joy is a general
afifeCtion of pleasure, for all pleasant affeCtions delight and gladden, or
cause joy. Its causes are all those harmonies in general and in particular
which accord or agree with our sensories and please them, especially with the
internal sensory when this is looking to fortune, to happiness, to the
restoration of life or of body. Joy expands the cerebrum and diffuses the
animus, to which it slackens the bridle as it were, allowing it to a6t freely.
This expansion of the cerebrum and diffusion of the animus is visible in the
face itself, in its sensorial organs, which likewise are animated, and in the
whole body which, before constrained, swells freely in joy. Through the general
expansion, by extended swellings of the cortical substance of the cerebrum,
each internal sensory also is expanded. In this state one does not compress
another, whence we awaken into a certain more perfect life just as from a
sleep. The blood flows more freely through somewhat larger and somewhat
smaller vessels, and runs through its own glands and fibres. Whence the
universal chyle of the brain and economy of the body is restored. For whatever
is the animus of the cerebrum, the same is transfused into the body, since
there is a continuity of all from their own origins or cortical substances.
This is the reason why we are able, from the body, to judge of the affedlion of
the cerebrum or of the internal common sensory, and especially from the
countenance on which is inscribed the mind. In excessive joy, not only are the
muscles of the cortex, the medullary strata, and the fibrous and vascular
canals of the brain and body opened, but also the pores of the cranium and
bones ; then also such passages as the chylifer- ous, lymphatic, and salivary
dudts and others pour out liquids suitable for animal economy, as do also the
tran- spiratory pores of the skin. Thus through joy all ways of communication
are opened. In the state of joy, an agreeable and pleasing tremor, also the
vital heat, the light, the presence of the animus, is diffused around the
common external sensory as well as the internal ; this lively trembling and
light in the countenance is manifestly betrayed by the eyes and by the speech
itself and every action, thence also the brain is cleared, restored, and vivified,
and in that moment glides back as it were into the state of its first youth and
innocence. Besides this subtle trembling also more visible vibration or
laughter arises ; for the brain leaps and oscillates, and in the same way the
lungs, the windpipe, articulated sounds, the face and joints of the body. This
is called laughter, for joy itself is an affection of the internal sensory, but
laughter rather of the common sensory or brain, which is unable to exist
without the inmost joy of the internal sensory, and a reflection of its
intellect ; whence laughter is not given except in man ; for in order that it
may exist the mind must perceive a cause for joy and see a present or foresee a
future happiness, which thus breaks into a tremulous effeCt from the inmost. In
a state of joy the mind is inclined to every kind of waving and motion to and
fro, as in beating time to music, to leapings and tossings of the limbs, of
vibration and aCtual reciprocation, because all things are loosened and set
free. The first degree of joy is to be content with one’s lot, second,
hilarity, third, joy, and the fourth, which is also the last effeCt, is
laughter and a flinging of the body.
Sadness.
(202.) Sadness, however,
which is also termed sorrow and distress of mind, is the general unpleasant
affeCtion, for all unpleasant affeCtions cause sadness. The causes are all
discords, in general and in particular, which disagree with or are not fitting
to our sensories, especially to the internal sensory, when it perceives or
suspeCts misfortune, unhappinesses, the extinction of life or the destruction
of the body. Sadness compresses the brain and torments the animus, casting it
as it were into fetters and chains and depriving it of its liberty. This
constriction of the brain and anxiety of the mind appear in the countenance in
its sensorial organs, which are likewise compressed so that tears are forced
out; as also in the whole body, which, before expanded, is now manifestly
contracted. Through the general constriction of the brain, the muscles of the
cortical subsuance being closed, every internal sensory is restrained and
loses its liberty of aCting, for in this state one compresses the other, whence
the brain becomes heavy and torpid, the blood is impeded, nor docs it flow
freely through the greater and smaller vessels ; or it is denied to the purer
blood or animal spirit to flow through the glands and fibres, whence is
cacochynia, ataxia, atrophia, melancholy, and the causes of many diseases. In
the deepest sadness not only are the cortica beds and medullary strata of the
cerebrum, of the cerebellum, of the oblong and spinal medulla, constricted,
and the fibrous and vascular canals of the brain as well as the body, but also
the pores of the skull and of the bones, and the passages, as the chyliferous,
the lymphatic, and others which pour out liquids serviceable for the animal
economy, all of which if compressed do not fulfil their uses in the kingdom.
Thus through sadness all the ways of communication are, as to some parts,
closed. In the state of sadness an unpleasant torpor and stupor, coldness,
darkness, absence of mind and of animus occupy the common as well as the
internal sensory. This torpor and darkness appear manifestly in the
countenance, eyes, and speech; hence the brain is as it were clouded and
obscured, twisted, vexed, destroyed, and the mind extinguished, or falls into
a kind of premature old age. In sadness, because the brain suffers and the
single duCts are compressed and strive to raise themselves, there arises the
effeCt the opposite of laughter, namely, weeping and bewailing. Sadness itself
is an affeCtion of the internal sensory, but weeping is of the common or
external sensory, that is, of the brain, and it cannot exist without the deepest
sadness of the internal sensory and without a reflection upon an unhappy
condition and misfortune present or future. Wherefore weeping does not occur
except in man, nor can it arise except from a mixed intellect, which does not
know the future. The first degree of sadness is not to be content with one’s
lot, another is a certain concealed anxiety, a third is sadness itself and
grief of mind, the fourth or last, which is the effedt, is weeping, bewailing,
and inaCtion of the muscles of the body.
Loves in General.
(203.) There are many
species of affections of the animus which are called loves, such as venereal
love, conjugial love, the love of parents toward their children (or storge'),
and friendships. The several loves are as it were so many conjunctions,
bindings, consociations of parts with a whole ; for to live without love is as
a part disunited from a whole ; for every part, that it may live, draws its
lot in life from the common body, or from participation with many. Society is
the very form of living for the several parts ; the quality of the life of the
single member flows from the form of the many or of the society. Thus a single
life without this connection is respectively nothing, and that it may be
something loves are conceded, by which we are connected and through which we
regard our friends as ourselves, as united and not separated. Thus there are
loves of the body or venereal loves ; loves of the animus, as conjugial love
and the love of friends; and there are loves of the mind, loves of the
intelleCtory, loves of the soul. From these things it can be seen that love
properly is vital heat itself and the very force of life ; for without love the
single members would become torpid and extinCt.
Venereal Love.
(204.) The venereal aCt of
love is a conjunction itself and union of two bodies into one. The cause of
this is said to be most deeply hidden even from the soul and the pure intellect
; these regard effeCts not as effeCts but as ends, and their ends are that
society may exist, and that members of society may be produced, both of a terrestrial
society which is of the pure intellect, and of a celestial society which is of
the soul. The rational mind itself, partly from itself and partly from things
revealed, perceives and understands these ends. The animus simply
desires the
effeft and the body obeys. How great is the desire of this end in the mind and
in the pure intelleft becomes manifestly apparent in the delights and in the
stimulations of the body to that effeft.
(205.)
Venereal desire is excited by objefts of the five senses, evidently by beauty and
loveliness presented to the sight, or by a similar form and charm described by
language, which by the hearing passes into so many objefts of sight. Likewise
by objefts of the three senses of touch, through kissing, embracing, and many
other afts. Thus love progressively increases. In this venereal affection,
because it is pleasing and the first of the alluring affeftions, the brain
itself or the common sensory is expanded ancj joyfully trembles ; whence the
animus is diffused. The sensories themselves, and indeed the internal motors,
are determined into that state in which they call forth and draw out the whole
spirit, which thus far lies inclosed in the blood,' and they promptly pour it
forth through their own medullary fibres and through the nerves of the body.
The intelleftory affords in abundant measure new life and spirit; for in this
state is conceived, born, and copiously put forth this spiritual essence which
is to serve the new offspring to be conceived. A state similar to that of the
brain is felt in the whole body and in its sanguineous and fibrous systems,
which unanimously conspire to the same effeft. For whatever animus the brain
has is diffused into the body; besides all the other ways of transpiration are
opened and an abundance of effluvious breathings flows out into and breaks
forth tnrough the whole circuit of the body. For these reasons, after the
effeft arises lassitude and torpor; for all the better blood is robbed of its
own spiritual essence ; also the purer flows to the sensories in order that in
the fibres and through the fibres it may at length be discharged into the members
of generation. Even the fibres themselves are fatigued in the aft by tremulous
vibrations. The intelleftory pours forth whatever vital spirits it possesses
and conceives ; for the whole expends itself upon the new man, who is to be as
it were he [the progenitor] himself, and through whom he may preserve himself
and his life, and pass through all the ages of the earth. At the same time
through the opened pores of the skin the better and superfluous ejeCted
exhalations are put forth, and hence are experienced the delicious ecstacies
and pleasureable swoons of the interior sensories, which nevertheless in older
persons are followed by temporary impotencies and a kind of sadness, and a coldness
of the blood. In the act itself, which is of the body merely, there is a
pleasure which is permitted without the end of procreation but for the sake of
bodily relief, since it is excited by the superfluous generative substance collected
in the vesicles. As far as it is from the animus it is without end, and is
merely desire looking to the pleasure of the body. For the animus from itself
exercises all aCts in the body without end ; since it feels and aCts, but does
not perceive, know, or will; but when the love descends from the rational mind
it deserves to be regarded no longer as effeCt merely, but as end. If it is
regarded as effeCt or pure pleasure it is lust or lasciviousness, for then the
mind descends into the parts of the animus. But if it is regarded as an end
this is an indication that it descends from the pure intellect, since the pure
intellect has regard to no effeCt of the body as an effeCt but as an end. The
end is the multiplication of members of a ter- restial society, the
preservation of its own life through posterity, that it may pass into another
self, then also the necessity of preserving the health of the body. This is the
reason why brute animals aCt from the same principle and the same end, for their
soul is like our pure intellect, and so regards or desires no spiritual ends
but only natural ones, that is, no celestial society such as our souls have in
view.
Venereal
Hatred and Aversion, .
(206.) There
are those who from nature, and those who from principle or reason, have an
aversion for venery. Those who from nature, or of their pure intellect, hold
society and its multiplication in hatred, are characterized by pride and an
excessive love of self. Those whose rational mind and animus are affeCted by no
charms are almost all sad and morose. Those whose blood is harder, colder, and
whose [animal] spirit and its generation too scanty to suffice for its proper
use, are old before their day; and those whose organs of generation suffer from
disease are impotent. But they who from principle hate all venery regard it as
vile and not to be yielded to, and its use as an injury to the spirit and to
the better life. Thus the principles [of this aversion] are either spiritual or
natural. This is called chastity, and is the highest virtue.
(207.) Love is
a spiritual word, harmony is a natural word. These mutually correspond, for
love and also harmony bring about conjunction, since those things which are in
harmonious concord are conjoined of themselves and by their own nature. Genuine
conjugial love not only effeCts the conjunction of two bodies and minds \ani-
mus]} but also of two rational natures [mens]. The causes
of love with the married are many, and indeed they all concur so far as nature
can contribute to this. For there is the conjunction of the body which is
confirmed and strengthened by mutual delights. There is a likeness of the lower
minds [animus] whence arise the mutual desires of their delights. There
is the likeness of their rational minds [mens], which are united more
closely by living together. For the affections of the mind are changeable,
since the very forms of rational ideas are acquired by use and culture,
consequently their rational mind. Minds at length in various ways and from
innumerable causes coalesce. The principal cause is the intuition and desire of
the same end, and that is the desire of offspring in marriage; afterward the
mutual and unanimous love of both toward their offspring; and moreover, the
consent of each to the other’s ends, or to what one or the other desires, that
is, that one condescends to the will of the other. In order that there may be a
oneness in nature, the active and the passive concur. If one is passive as the
other is active, then both are at the same time one. This is called a conjugal
or conjugial pair. Nature also has ordained that the wife should be of a
passive and the husband of an active nature ; especially does liberty favour
[this union], for liberty is the highest delight of the mind and the principal
essence of every pleasureable affection, since there is the greatest freedom
when the mind and will of one is that of another. It is as if the mind were
left to itself for the sake of being communicated to the other. These and many
other things affeft and unite rhinds, indeed to such a degree that when
venereal love and the pleasure arising from the union of the body ceases the
union of minds remains ; this also affefts in time the pure mind itself or the
intelleftory, whence arises also that more intimate union which exceeds all
union of the rational mind, and it becomes of such a character that it cannot
be expressed in terms, inasmuch as whatever is derived immediately from the
pure fountain or intelledfory cannot be put in words. If also a spiritual end
is similarly desired by both, the souls as to their operation are intimately
united. Hence arises a celestial life on earth, and it is right to believe that
the souls of both are to be united in the heavens. But such marriages and loves
are not entered upon and perfected by chance, but by the -especial providence
of God.
Conjugial Hatred.
(208.) Hatred
is the opposite of love; what love is cannot be known from itself but from its
contrary, just as harmonies are not known except from discords. This is the
reason why discords are inserted, that the mind may be affected the more
pleasantly by the harmonies ; but it is the task of science and of art to see
that they be properly fitted together, and thus that the quarrels of lovers do
not beget hatred. Genuine conjugial hatred does not immediately disjoin bodies
and minds \animus\ but it disjoins successively the rational minds \mens\y
which are changeable. Thence, as from their own origin, the lower minds \animus\
are disunited, and consequently the bodies; then the desires themselves vanish
with their delights. The causes of hatred and disjunction are many. The
principal one is a suspicion of unfaithfulness, which is called jealousy. When
this prevails the love is not believed to be mutual ; and on the part of the
husband the offspring is not believed to be the common offspring of both, so
the love of offspring does not join their higher and lower minds. Other causes
are, disagreements in the various ends which are loved and desired by one or the
other. This aversion is increased if according to the order of nature neither
can obsequiously yield, but both must rule. So because the mind and will of the
one is no longer that of the other, and both are deprived of that liberty which
is the mind’s delight, there succeeds in its place either servitude, contempt,
or hatred. These and many other things disunite minds, and indeed to such a
degree that when venereal love or love of the body shall have ceased aversion
will spring up. These also in the lapse of time affeft the pure mind or
intelleftory of each, whence arises undying and murderous hatred, and it
becomes such as cannot be described. This is a hell on earth ; and it is right
to believe that the souls of each, like two furies or erinnyes, are to
be tortured in hell. For such disunions and diabolical divorces of minds do not
arise by chance, but for the gravest reasons they seem to be permitted by a
foreseeing Divinity. From conjugial love and hatred it can be concluded what
the intermediate marriages are which partake more or less of the one or the
other. For innumerable intermediate states are given, and they abound the
world over.
The Love of Parents toward their Children, or Storge.
(209.) The
love of parents toward their children, as to its origin and essence, is most
distinct from other loves. Our mind and rational intellect are wholly ignorant
of its origin, wherefore it is also called instind, for it is in the mind by
nature and of itself. It is common to the brute animals and the human race, and
in the former very often is the more ardent, and so powerful that it conquers
self- love, and gives courage to the timid. This is a species of sympathy, for
whether it be one’s own offspring or that of another believed to be in some
manner one’s own, the ardour is the same, equally in beasts and in men ; and
yet it is not reciprocated and mutual on the part of the offspring; wherefore
the love is said to descend, not to ascend ; for it is natural in the parent
and acquired in the offspring. Other loves, as conjugial love and love toward
friends, are insinuated into the animus by- way of the senses, and from this
into the rational mind. But this [parental] love is insinuated by the way of
the pure intellect from the soul into the mind [mens] ; therefore its
origin and whence it flows is unknown, for whatever flows down from the pure
mind into the rational mind is not revealed to our internal sensory, for this
purer mind is unable to explain itself in the forms of words. This is the
reason why, whether it be our own offspring, as was said above, or that of
another, provided our rational mind is persuaded that it is its own, the love
is the same. From the effect of this love it is clearly seen that in us the rational
mind is something superior and purer which regards and at the same time desires
the more universal ends and those toward which universal nature conspires.
These ends, which are purely natural and common to brute animals and to. us,
cannot be other than the propagation of the race and of a new society, and the
prolongation of terrestrial life through others in whom it is reborn. For it
endeavours to form a colony from itself and pour all its own spirit into the
new body, which facSt the venereal love above described sufficiently demonstrates.
This pure or superior mind most evidently knows that the soul of the offspring
is taken from the soul of the parent ; thus one soul is transcribed into many
bodies. Of this our rational mind is indeed ignorant ; but still this knows
from the very ardent effedt of this love and from desire that it loves to live
most closely conjoined with its own offspring, and indeed to such an extent
that it is displeased at not being able to be reunited, as it vainly endeavours
to be through the closest embraces, clasping, and kisses. Thus in this love is
concentrated the love of self, the love of perpetuating life, the love of
society, of which it is a part and indeed the first part. In this love, with
men, so far as it descends from the pure intelledl, the love of self, of perpetuating
life, and of society, is similarly concentrated ; but so far as it descends
from the soul, the mind \inens\ of which is spiritual, the love of
eternity is added, and the love of celestial society, a part of which is to be
the entire terrestrial society. From these things as from living and existing
proofs it is clear that the human soul is superior in essence and form, and
that the soul of brutes is such as is our pure intellect. This love of parents
toward their children decreases with the advance of time, more tardily in the
human race, more rapidly in the various kinds of animals. For every offspring
puts on and acquires its own countenance, its own animus, its own rational
mind, not like that of its parents. Thus by nature they are dissociated as
soon as the new brain assumes a relationship to its own body. But because the
ends which are desired are distinctly perceived in human minds, a love remains
so long as it is the love of an end ; which is also the reason why the love of
parents becomes still greater toward their grandchildren. For that the soul of
the grandfather by means of the parent even passes into the grandchildren is
evident .from the revived likeness in the grandchildren of the grandparents
and great-grandparents.
The Love of Society and of Country.
(210.) There
are smaller societies, greater societies, and greatest societies. A small
society is a home or family ; a greater society is a province or sovereignty, a
kingdom or empire ; the greatest is the whole world. Terrestrial society is
called the world, just as celestial society is called heaven. There are as many
worlds as there are terrestrial societies, and there are as many heavens as
there are celestial societies. The love of society is both natural and acquired,
for to live alone or to live without society is not to live, for whatever is
one’s own is not known as one’s own except from others, or relatively. Our
inmost delights are not delights unless from the delights of others we are
convinced of our own. Moreover, no desired ends follow without the means ; thus
ours do not follow without our friends and their assistance, neither those of
our friends without the consent of that community of which we are parts. Thus
nature herself begets and induces this love and conjunction. This love, while
it is purely animal, is greatest for one’s self and one’s own, less for friends
and least of all for society ; but if this love immediately descends from the
mind [mens] of the pure intelleCtory it is then most for society, less
for friends, and least for self. The analogy is b'ke that of the whole world to
its parts or a part. But indeed if this love is spiritual, or of the soul, then
the love of celestial society is above the love of all terrestrial societies or
the whole world, and above that is God who is love itself.
(211.) Our
minds are rational, that is, at once natural and spiritual. Natural minds or
purely animal minds prefer themselves to friends, these to society, and earth
to heaven. Truly spiritual minds place themselves in the lowest place ; their
neighbour they treat and love as equals ; above all they place God ; and others
intermediately in their own order. This subordination of self is the very
excellence of our minds ; this is true magnanimity, wisdom, honesty itself,
virtue, felicity, religion. These are heroes of their own age, the very
essences, powers, virtues, and stars of the world. The society of such is the
City of God. By the prodigies of this love the Roman Empire flourished,
wherefore by a singular providence of God the whole universe was subjected to
it. Such men are born at this day, but are regarded as wonders. Everybody recognizes
this as a naked truth. Who does not praise to the stars Quintus Mucius,
Horatius Codes, Scipio Africanus the elder, Cato, OCtavius, the Gustavi, and
Caroli, and many others, and admire that something Divine which is in them ?
Who does not exalt such a nature and affeft it [in himself] by placing himself
in the last or in no place, if he would strive for the glory, favour, and
applause of universal society? Thus it is the part of art for a man to feign,
even for selfish ends, magnanimity, wisdom, honesty, virtue, religion, and to
be a man above men, and this at the very time when he is putting himself in the
highest places.
(212.) There
are as many forms as there are societies. The whole human race or world
constitutes a universal form, empires and kingdoms less universal forms, the
dukedoms of empires and the provinces of kingdoms still less universal forms,
families and homes the least. Every one is by nature bound by the love of that
of which he is a part. Thus by a love of his own country before others, when
these come in conflict, since in protecting its form he is protecting himself.
Love towards
Friends, or Friendship.
(213.) All
love is natural, but all friendship is acquired love. The love between husbands
and wives is such by nature, but friendship is something acquired through mutual
association. That sentiment which exists in parents toward children and in
others toward blood-relations and relations by marriage is love, but toward
others not related by blood is friendship. Affedlion for country and society
is also called love, so far as it is connate. Love exists between equals and
unequals, but friendship between equals; the sentiment of inferiors toward
superiors is not called friendship but veneration, which easily makes way for
love, since the veneration of superiors is natural and is within every love.
But there are many causes, natures, and degrees of friendship. It is a general
rule that friendship is produced through a similarity of manners, that is, of
dispositions {animus} and minds {mens}. The disposition {animus},
which is the external state of the mind {mens} and brain alone, does not
regard ends but only the pleasures of the body, and is not affedted except by
likeness of condition, age, sex, fortune, countenance, actions ; whence the
friendship thence resulting is that of infants, of boys, youths, even of adults
who are controlled more by the disposition {animus} and by pleasures
than by the mind {mens} and desires of rational ends. In these there is
frequently the first attachment, for we judge from externals concerning
internals. But friendship from rational causes is procured by those ends in
which both unite, for from these the likeness is known. Thus as far as we
desire ends so far we love those friends and companions who advance these ends
; for ends and means, or all intermediate ends, proceed with equal steps. Ends
are either corporeal and purely natural, or rational, or spiritual. The
pleasing affedlions themselves are ends; thus they are honest ends with honest
men, evil with evil men, friendships with those related by blood, and so
forth. But in friendship it is requisite that one should be the leader and the
other the follower; if both lead there will be a collision, as among morose,
ill-tempered, envious, and covetous persons: also the natures of friendships
are various ; there may be sincere friendship or deceitful friendship, even
friendship mixed with hatred. Very often we dislike the animus of a person and
his manners, but we love his mind and will, that is, the man himself, and vice
versa. Sometimes we even desire not to live with a loved one but with one
whom we dislike. Our principal affection and ruling love is the measure of our
friendship toward another. Thus it may be seen how various is the material out
of which friendship is composed. It ought to be a common rule that all should
be loved and at the same time their vices hated; that is, that even enemies
should be embraced with love, but not, indeed, with friendship. For love is
natural, and of the pure mind itself and of the soul; while friendship is
acquired, and is of the rational mind. The ends of the soul are spiritual, the
first of which is eternal felicity. When several agree in these ends, they are
regarded already as friends whom love alone binds. Thus there will be a love of
souls however inimical the minds [mens\ may be. Without this spiritual
love there is no divine love ; for through this alone are souls consociated, if
aspiring to this one end.
Hatred.
(214.) Hatred
is not an absence of love, but it is the love of evil, consequently the hatred
of truth* Hatred is both natural and acquired. Natural hatred is the contrary
of love, but acquired hatred is the contrary of friendship. As love is a
pleasing affection, delighting the sensories, repairing the bloods and animal
spirits with new heat, light, and life, and restoring the single parts of the
body,
See Envy and Revenge, nos. 267-27X so
hatred is an unpleasant affeCtion, which grieves the sensories and disturbs
the bloods and animal spirits, depriving them of their better life and
destroying the several parts of the body. The lower mind is then in anguish,
and the brain compressed ; it is exhilarated, rendered serene and expanded
alone by misfortunes [of others] ; just as love is a conjunction of
dispositions \animus\ and minds \inens\, hatred is their
disjunction ; and as love is life and heaven, hatred is death and hell.
Disagreements, discords, and disharmonies arise from hatred. The highest joy of
the most intense hatred would result if heaven and earth should fall. But there
are many causes, kinds, and degrees of natural and acquired hatred. The causes
of natural hatred proceed from the state of the pure intellect and soul, since
there are as many diverse states as there are souls and intelleCtories. For
there are spiritual essences and forms more perfeCt and more imperfeCt, best
and worst. In these love and harmony dwell, and in those hatred and discord.
Those in which loye is are celestial essences, and according to the degree of
love are nearer to the highest love or God and are more grateful and happy; but
those in which hatred is are infernal essences, and according to the degree of
hatred more remote from God, more ungrateful and unhappy. Acquired hatred,
indeed, is caused and increased by a dissimilarity of dispositions and by a
discord and collision of minds and of the desires and wishes which the ends
themselves declare. All desired ends are pleasant to the minds ; hatred is
begotten of dissent, difference, and opposition. In order that love may exist
one gives way while the other adls ; and on the other hand, hatred arises by
the opposition of one to the other. As the love of the end is the measure of
friendship, so is opposition of end the measure of hatred. Other things
concerning hatred worthy of observation are to be deduced from the description
of loves, since hatred is contrary to love.
Self-love; Ambition; Haughtiness ; Pride.
(215.) Ambition is not love, but is something superadded or an adjunct
to love, which if separated from love, love would not be active but passive. We
have seen that love is the life both of the mind and animus, for there is no
such thing as mind nor animus without love. Ambition is indeed the force of
this life or the ardour of testifying the love of the mind ; thus the passive
principle is love and its adlive ambition. Whence it follows that there are as
many ambitions or kinds of ambition as there are loves. Thus there is ambition
in conjugial love, in the love of parents toward their children, in the love of
society, and in self-love. The reason why ambition is frequently taken for love
is because love and ambition taken together constitute one’s mind [mens],
disposition [animus], or one’s life. Now because ambition is joined to
love, as husband to wife, and there are loves more or less perfect, or those
which are virtues and those which are vices, so there are more or less perfect
ambitions or those which are virtues and those which are vices, for ambition
derives its essence and nature from the love to which it is bound or wedded.
Ambition is a vice or is spurious when joined to self-love, but it is a virtue
or is legitimate when joined to the love of society. '
(216.)
Depraved or illegitimate ambition which is joined to self-love desires the
highest things, and the higher it climbs the higher it aspires, and it
increases as it goes on. Especially does it desire the dignities, the supreme
honours, the wealth of the world, even heaven itself as its subject. So the
ambition of Adam remains deeply rooted in the nature of his posterity, and each
as a child of earth desires in mind to occupy all heaven. He emulates the omnipresence
of deity through his fame, its providence through his universal care, its
omnipotence through his more than regal power ; even also its omniscience, for
he is ignorant that there is anything which he does not know, and so persuades
himself that he knows everything. So ambition obstructs the way to wisdom and
opens one to ignorance. Carried away by ambition, he does not regard himself as
a part of the universe, but as the universe itself, at least thinking that the
universe exists on his account; of which universe he is nevertheless the
smallest part, and all the smaller in that he seems to himself so great. For
ambition is joined with the contempt of everything outside of self, although
this is cunningly concealed. In his own regard he is all; he burns at every
word which might injure his dignity and glory, while he laughs and inwardly is
pleased at everything which raises him even though it were to the stars. Such
ambition is for the most part natural or connate, and it increases by the
favour of fortune, which* is an indication of the perverse state of the pure
intellect, the form of w'hose intellectual ideas or truths is discordant and
adverse to the order of nature ; but what the soul may be is not for us to
judge. This heat of affeCtion in the rational mind is properly called ambition
where there is a species of insanity joined to ignorance, for it admires and
contemplates itself and its form in every idea. This ambition in the animus or
in the common sensory passes for haughtiness, or in the body for pride, because
it is the efifeCt of haughtiness and an elation of the animus, and it shows
itself in ridiculous gestures, supercilious bearing, afifeCtation of titles,
pomp of family, of friends, of servants, of horses, of garments decked with
superfluous ornaments, and in many other things which provoke laughter. Such an
ambition, because it is a force and an ardour, and because the affection
itself in which it resides is a pleasing one, makes glad and expands the
internal as well as the external sensories, the cerebrum, fibres, arteries,
duds, viscera, and the body ; whence it is said to be puffed up and to inflate.
Thus naturally it repairs and restores the condition when everything is
favourable, and pours into it as it were new life. It is nevertheless only like
a beautiful wax figure stuffed with vile matter. But if perchance it is cut off
from hope or fortune, it falls either into infantile crying, into silliness,
into sorrow, or into insanity; for the ardour of the mind is either
extinguished or remains only as madness. There are many causes, qualities,
degrees, and differences of this vanity.
(217.) That
ambition, however, is a virtue or is legitimate, which is joined to the love
of society and country; this never begets pride, much less haughtiness, but humility
and contempt of self; it regards self as the smallest part of the universe,
and inwardly rejoices that it is able to perform so many duties. It desires and
attempts great and sublime things, not on account of self, but for the public
good ; to itself it is nothing, to its country it is everything; if it desires
honours, riches, or wisdom, it is that by these only it may serve the more. It
turns away from that illegitimate ambition as from a disease. Thus it is known
from love or from end what ambition is. Such a mind indicates a most perfect
state of the pure intellect, whose ideas are so many celestial truths, and at
the same time a state of the internal sensory corresponding to the
intellediory. So it is natural rather than acquired, for even if imbibed by
rules it is rarely so acquired as to be constantly active unless it be
continually deprived of its own natural ardour, and so accommodated to the
influx of the higher mind.
(218.) But the
loftiest or spiritual ambition, proper to the soul, is that which is joined to
the love of celestial society. This sees its own glory and felicity not in
itself but in the love of God and in His kingdom, which it earnestly desires to
promote ; it is humble, a worshipper of Deity, a contemner of self, but in the
degree it is less to itself, it is greater before God. To this end this zeal is
granted to
souls, and ambition to human minds.
Humility; Contempt; Lowliness of Mind
[Animus].
(219.) There
is a natural and an acquired humility; as also an internal humility or that of
the mind, and an external humility or that of the animus and body. Natural
humility arises from self-contempt,—whence it is an affection contrary to
illegitimate ambition or self-love, and wholly united to love toward others,
for which reason it is worthy to be called legitimate ambition ; for as far as
we recede from love of self so far do we enter into a love toward others as
being all more excellent and higher than ourselves. Properly it is shown toward
superiors, and thus it is a kind of veneration, for love toward superiors is
shown by veneration, so that it is veneration itself. For this reason humility
is a virtue ; and if it is innate or natural it has its roots in the pure
intellect itself; and if in the soul itself it is an evidence of love toward
God, and so it is an annihilation of self, whence is the highest religion,
adoration, and the imploring of grace. From the adoration itself, which is an
act of humility, may be known the quality and quantity of this love. The
reason why humility is proof of love towards others either in reality superior
and more perfect or else so esteemed, is because it is natural, if we would
have the love of another and his work influence us, for us to extinguish the
ardour of our animus and mind and to reduce these to a kind of passivity ; then
the love of another is that which operates with our love, and is that ative
principle which should exist in love in order that it may be the heat of our
life. Hence is it that humility is the cause of the conjunction of the minds of
others with ours and the very origin itself of benevolence. Without this state
of our mind Divine love could never operate upon us. Indeed spurious ambition
itself through its own activity throws off every influx and entirely
extinguishes it. No affection more approves of this virtue or covers it with
praises, than vicious or illegitimate ambition ; for this demands humility of
all because it prefers itself to all. On the other hand God, who demands this
humility, not from love of self but from love of the human race, that we may be
disposed to the operations of His love and for the reception of grace,—He does
not demand glory for its own sake, for He is in His own glory and Himself is
glory, to whom nothing can be added through our glorification ; but because
the proof of glory is adoration, which is according to our veneration toward
our superiors ; it is by this that we declare our love.
(220.)
Humility which is acquired does not derive its origin from nature and
inclination, or from principles engrafted in our pure intelleft and soul, but
from principles through the refleftion of our mind, drawn from our own
experience or from that of others who teach us ; and if we put faith in our
masters, and ourselves acknowledge the truth as examined by them, there arises
a principle out of which either virtues or vices are acquired. Thus if we are
imbued with truths, especially with this truth, that illegitimate ambition or
love of self is a vice and an impediment to the communication of the loves of
another and particularly of a superior, then as far as self-love recedes, so
far does love toward others and that of others towards us, and thence humility,
succeed in its place. This in the course of time, these principles being deeply
implanted, passes over into the pure intelleft and becomes as it were natural,
and it is transferred to posterity, as if it were an inclination ; and this is
the origin of natural humility. This humility is called internal.
(221.) External
humility is of the animus and body alone, and not of the rational mind ; for
self-love and spurious ambition can be implanted in the mind and the entire
internal sensory, or our rational intelleft can be occupied by this love, and
nevertheless externally humility can be simulated, contempt of self, love
toward others, toward society, even toward God, in a word, honesty and virtue ;
vices can also be simulated, the love of self, contempt of friends, and many
other things. Such humility is called external because it is outside of the
mind, and as it were superficial. For the mind is a superior or internal
animus, subject to which is the will, because the intellect, judgment, and
choice are. The mind, to which the will belongs, is able to command the external
or lower animus, and thence the body; and indeed by such art that it can cause
that nothing of the mind shall show itself in the countenance, for, for every
affeCtion there are certain corresponding expressions of face, of bodily form,
of gesture and of aCtion. Thus the joyful expression of humility in the face of
the lover and the beloved is as it were not each one’s own state but that of
the other. Veneration itself appears in the form of actions, in the accent of
speech, and the style of language, as a certain yielding and obedience. But the
deepest humility breaks out even into tears, or into a pitiable condition of
the body; we are prostrated ; we cry out that we are as nothing, and beat upon
our breasts. These are the natural effects of humility in the body, and it spontaneously
flows forth in this manner when verily present in its signs ; but all this we
are also taught to feign.
(222.)
Lowliness is of mind or of spirits is a virtue as well as a vice. It is a
virtue when humility is acquired from principle, or when self-love and spurious
ambition are expelled from our minds; for then there succeeds at once an
ambition of serving and obeying others or of suffering ourselves to be
controlled by others.
Both self-love
and ambition or this animus are cast down by sicknesses, disease, misfortune,
anxieties ; but these are of the Divine providence. Lowliness of mind is, on
the other hand, an evil when it arises from a sudden extinction of ardour or of
a spurious ambition, the self-love remaining without its ardour or without the
possibility of aCling. Then force or violence is done especially to the
internal organs and thence to the external ones, and those of the body, and
there is a breaking out into weeping, despair, frenzy, grief, disease, insanity,
and madness.
Hope and Despair.
(223.) When we
strive for and desire what we love, and yet impossibilities interfere with our
attaining our end, we call this state of desire hope, and it seems to be in the
will viewed as an endeavour which these obstacles are preventing from coming
forth into aCt and motion. Thus hope is not an afifeCtion of the mind, but of
its will. For the will always endeavours to ad, but so long as it is resisted
does not aft. Meanwhile it is affected by a certain hope, so that it remains
balanced between action and inaction. Thus hope does not belong to the animus
but to the rational mind, because to its will, and so belongs to man and not to
brutes and irrational beings. Hope increases and grows just as far as the
impossibilities, that is, the resistances, recede or are removed ; and to
remove these is the work of prudence and skill. But hope in itself is greater
or less according to the degree of the love and desire of the end pursued or
desired. Therefore hope has in view desired ends, and accordingly it belongs to
all the affeCtions which are ends. For this reason hope is the continuation of
life, that is, of loves, and of their ardour or ambition. But the greatest hope
is that which we repose in God, to whom nothing is impossible ; wherefore hope
is one of the three spiritual virtues.*
(224.) Despair
exists when we cut off hope ; then also when, in the end itself, love and
ambition, that is, the life and ardour of the mind, collapse and are as it were
extinguished. Then comes that dejeCtion of the animus the effeCts of which
were described above. The efifeCts in general are different species of'insanity
which are diseases of the mind, different frenzies which are diseases of the
animus, and different sicknesses which are of the body.
1 Corinthians, xiii. 13. [Th
The Love of an Immortality of Fame
after Death.
(225.) The
love of an immortality of fame, or as it is commonly called, of one’s name, is
natural to every one, as appears from innumerable proofs. Who does not desire
funereal pomps and obsequies, and provide for the eredtion of a tomb to remain
for a monument after the death of the body, for the sake of his name? Who does
not rejoice at the imagined talk and whispering and is not affedted by its
flatteries, as yet all unknown, when it shall be said that “he has gained an
immortal fame, and has merited the favour of posterity?” Nay, he himself would
glory and all the world applaud him as if instinctively, if he by saying so
could persuade them that he did not study to serve himself but posterity; from
thence comes the glory of a great man.
From these and
very many other proofs it is plainly established that the love of our
immortality or fame or name is an implanted or connate one, hence that it is
one of those truths which are within the pure intelleCtory. Unless the pure
intellect and the soul were conscious of this, such a love could never exist in
a rational mind, and because it does exist in it, it follows that it is the
truth that we are to live after the death of our bodies. But our rational mind
does not take this form itself, since it is ignorant of the true origin of this
love, denying even its existence, and indeed those minds more ardently which-
regard, run after, and desire only natural ends ; for something natural as
well as something spiritual is within our rational minds, and the one
predominating suffocates the other. Still this truth remains, as a spark under
the embers when these persons [come to die and] desire illustrious obsequies.
(226.) But
this love with its peculiar ambition is super- eminent, and is either a virtue
or a vice ; it is a virtue when it obtains a name immortal in virtues, in
honesty, in praiseworthy deeds towards society and country; and still greater
when not only toward present societies but toward all future ones. For if there
is an innate love toward societies and country it must be that that which
extends to all posterity is a greater one. Such a love or virtuous ambition,
when it is united to our love of self, is pure love, if one does not desire
that his name may live, but rather his service and thence his consequent public
usefulness may. Such are the heroes of the world ; for they spurn all glory of
deeds and merits; they are even averse to these ; but they rejoice from their inmost
conscience that they were means of their country’s felicity and safety, and
that heaven above and God and the eternal essences may be conscious of their
deeds, to whom in a kind of spiritual likeness they may draw near. Also such
souls, the body having perished in death, are allotted a certain heaven, not
alone in themselves, but also without themselves, from other souls with whom
they cannot but have immediate communication of spiritual affection.
Concerning these things faith itself and reason itself refuse to doubt ; but we
will treat of them elsewhere. Such internal men despise, yea, are averse to
this fame of name, such as is indicated by monuments, palaces, buildings,
statues, amphitheatres, inscribed titles and other like things ; for they aspire
to what is higher and to that with which these things are not to be compared.
But such a love is a vice when it is in reality extinct, and nothing remains
but what is feigned in order that one may instil into the credulous public an
estimation of his deeds by a certain sincerity or truthfulness ; or where
self-love or spurious ambition is superemi- nent. In these persons the love of
fame naturally rules, but the end is that of the fame of self not of virtues,
like that in him who burned the Temple of Diana of the Ephesians. But without
this love no one would love his offspring, for he would not see himself as
immortal in it; neither would any one fight for his country from a kind of
love, nor seek death nor love to offer himself a sacrifice. From such an
incentive comes true heroic virtue, such as was exhibited in our Gustavi and Caroli.
The Divine Providence conspires as far as possible that these may obtain their
wish.
Generosity
; Magnanimity; what the Loves of the World and of the Body are.
(227.) The
animus is called generous and great in the degree that it is elevated from what
is mundane and corporeal, and so nearer to the celestial and divine. By the
animus is here understood the superior animus or mind, wherefore also this
animus is called divine. This regards the corporeal and the mundane as
respectively nothing, because they are mutable, inconstant, transitory, perishable,
void of life, to become as nothing,—mere instruments of life, to which is
assigned a reward according to service. But the celestials are regarded as the
only, the sole essentials, the very things which are, the perpetual eternals,
the very felicities themselves.
(228.) Mundane
in a strict sense applies to the earth and the universe, with its orbs, moons,
sun, stars, then especially all things which are in the earth and its three
kingdoms. Even human societies are called worlds, and every individual in the
society a microcosm. So are mun- danethings also, those riches, possessions,
and otherthings of the earth, which in themselves are but clods, but in society
pass for the goods which are the servants of life. But corporeal things are
those which allure only the body and the animus, as the sensations of touch,
taste, smell, hearing, sight, or all their pleasing affeCtions ; then also
dignities and honours and other things which are taken no notice of, when alone
the pleasures of the body and the animus are sought after. These are called
loves of the world, cupidities of the animus, and pleasures of the body,
because the blood and external organs are affeCled by them. Our rational mind
is like a balance between the corporeal and the spiritual, or between the
mundane and the celestial, one arm of the beam being that of the body and
animus, the other that of the pure mind and soul. If the weight of the
corporeal arm prevails, then the spiritual and celestial are almost of no
weight, thus their scale is elevated; but if the other arm prevails, then the
mundane and corporeal are of no weight: thus we are balanced between heaven and
earth. The weight of the corporeal arm naturally prevails because we are conscious
of its delights, or we are manifestly affected by a sense of them ; but in the
celestial arm there are no weights, but only forces, and if they prevail it
will be because their delights are ineffable, infinite, eternal, and are
inmostly within the aforenamed weights; thus from the idea alone of their
supereminence.
(229.) He who
is magnanimous scorns in his spirit and mind alike all mundane and corporeal
things, estimating them alone from their use in promoting those things which
are superior. Thus he values the taste, not on account of the flavour but
because by means of the flavour he discovers the quality of nourishment and enjoys
an appetite for it; he enjoys the modulations of song, musical harmonies,
sweetly spoken words, and like things, not for the sake of the affections, but
because they recreate the body, and preserve the health of the mind. The
pleasures of the fields and meadows, of colours, of the starry theatre of the
universe, are prized not as delights in themselves, but because they
exhilarate and renew the mind and give to it the faculty of understanding, and
the material for forming universal judgments out of particulars and thus
determining essential truths, and also for admiring and adoring the Maker of
such a world. Riches and possessions are valued not as ends but as means to
higher things ; so also dignities and honours. He who regards all these things
as mere servants and instrumental causes, in themselves dead, and who only
venerates the higher things abstracted from them, is magnanimous; and
because he proves this by his aCts he is generous. For universal nature
is so created that as an instrument it may serve life and the spiritual
essences to whose rule it is wholly subject.
(230.) This
love and this ambition show who is magnanimous and generous by nature; also
the magnanimity and generosity themselves indicate the quality of this love and
ambition.
There are in
general two loves, the love of the body and the world, and the love of heaven
and Deity. Love of self and spurious ambition reveal the love of the body and
the world, while contempt of self or love of serving the public, and genuine
ambition, reveal the love of heaven and of Deity, even to the smallest thing
which lies in the way thither. From these loves it may be known who is really
magnanimous and generous. But there is a magnanimity and generosity feigned
for the sake of being made the means of corporeal and worldly possessions.
(231.) Thus
magnanimity is not any affection, but rather a quality of the animus and mind.
From these things it may be judged what the animus is and to what loves it
inclines.
Pusillanimity
and Folly.
(232.)
Pusillanimity is opposed to magnanimity, and is so called from this opposition
; but as opposed to generosity it is called folly. Pusillanimity has no right
of its own, nor sufficient intellect to enable it to assert its mind, but is
inconstantly borne to this side or that, wherever its lust, its presumption, or
the persuasion of others may draw it. Even if it should remain a moment in
higher things it would fall back at once into the lower and be plunged into its
mere bodily living. Folly, however, spurns entirely the higher things, and
embraces the lower with all its animus and heart, and considers these as the
only and the all, and indeed as the very entities of reason. Thus it is
characteristic of a purely animal and brutish man.
Still other
things may be deduced on this subjeCt from the above description of magnanimity
and generosity.
A varies. .
(233.) Avarice
is the love of riches and earthly possessions ; but its quality may be
recognized from its end. It is natural to love wealth, as it is to love those
ends to which wealth is the means. Wherefore it is natural to brutes, even to
inserts, to colled and put away the necessaries of life for a coming winter;
and because money is the universal medium for promoting and acquiring intermediate
ends it is called the nerve of business. This is not avarice, but prudence for
providing means, or a human providence granted by God, especially if the love
of means does not exceed the love of the end. Often, however, it t
goes beyond.
For worldly and corporeal loves never halt in their march, but in all
directions they seize upon new growths, as the love of dignities, of honours,
of ruling, the love of vanity, display, haughtiness, the love of pleas-’ ures,
the love of looking out for one’s own, not only during one’s own life and that
of his children but even to that of grandchildren ; since the storge
inspires a kind of perpetual life which increases toward the remoter generations.
In a similar degree increases the love of riches, that is, of means to the
perpetual end. There are also superior loves which wealth serves as a means,
such as the love of agriculture, of defending one’s country, of preserving
society. Wherefore the greatest care of a ruler is that his kingdom may abound
in money. Wealth may also serve as means to certain spiritual ends, as in performing
works of charity, in lending aid to the needy, in promoting and propagating
divine worship, in building temples, and in many other things. Now because
money is the universal medium of so many and almost of all ends, and as each
person has his own loves, desires, and ends, it follows that the love or
estimation of money rules throughout the world.
(234.) But,
indeed, if wealth is sought not for the sake of ends but for its possession
merely, that is, not as means but as the end itself, then this love is that avarice
which is called sordid, and is folly itself, the trait of a base mind. It is
against nature itself and against the principles of all reason that wealth
should be regarded as pure end, for that which in itself is means cannot be the
end, and this is the reason why money is regarded as the very possibility of
all ends, consequently as being all loves in potency. For the mind is more
delighted in the contemplation of its loves than the body is in their
execution or in its pleasures themselves, since the view is more lasting and
constant, while the pleasure itself is inconstant and ends with the adt, as in
venereal love ; wherefore pleasures are ascribed to the imagination, for the
life itself of the mind flourishes from similar loves. Besides, in avaricious
minds all these loves remain, because of the possibility of all things [which
wealth promises] ; and by these loves there is aroused a universal idea which
is more pleasing in that it is the more universal, and this appears to be the
cause of avarice. This is confirmed by the location itself of this affedtion,
being in the rational mind only, since it is not an affection of the superior
mind, as it is never natural, but one that is acquired in the course of time,
and that increases in old age just in the degree that the corporeal loves
recede. It is not an affection of the lower mind [animus], because it is
not of the body; the cupidities of the animus and the pleasures of the body
being inseparable.
(235.) But to
what an extent avarice may become a mental disease, insanity, irrationality,
and niggardliness, is fully evident from its effedt, in that the more
completely it is inrooted the more are other loves blunted and extirpated ;
for the mind occupied by this perpetual idea is as it were suffocated, is
merged not in the body but in the earth, so that it cannot be elevated toward
the higher things, nor can the spiritual inflow into what is grossly natural.
Thus the god whom the avaricious man worships is like Pluto himself, for the
worshipper adores that he himself may be blessed, that is, that additional
riches may be given him. But in mind he worships his treasures as a god ; in
these he recognizes all possibility, providence, power, and glory ; and so he
in secret wholly denies the divine. From the mind of a miser all love of
society is wholly rejedled, likewise friendship, and even the love of one’s
own, which is nevertheless an extremely natural love. Even the love of the body
hardly remains, because this is the love of the earth, and all cupidities are
spurned because they are pleasures that cost; also honours and repute of name
are of no account to the miser, since he persuades himself that he possesses
potentially all the honours of the universe. Thus the love of self is supreme,
for he regards himself as the [whole] universe and not a part of it. Thus he
places among the virtues nothing but vices, such as injuries done to his
neighbour, plots for reducing whole homes to extremities, and • innumerable
similar things.
(236.) These
passages are to be amended, as the subjects here treated of have not been
deduced from their origins.
Prodigality;
Liberality; Contempt of Wealth.
(237.)
Prodigality arises from various causes. For a prodigal either desires his ends
too much, or he desires none at all; or he regards the present only and not the
future; or he denies that riches are a means for attaining ends; or he
believes that they produce themselves spontaneously; or he desires to exhibit a
generous spirit; or he despises wealth as provocative ’of evil. Thus prodigality
is both a vice and a virtue. When it is a vice it is properly called
Prodigality, but when it is a virtue Liberality, which is a kind of generosity
and magnanimity, and when the virtue is supereminent it is called the Contempt
of Money. Prodigality is of the animus but not of the natural mind ; so it
differs altogether from avarice even as to its origin. That it is of the
animus, and not of the mind, is evident from the genius of the prodigal ; for
he does not care for the future but for the present, and he lives for the day,
or he longs for pleasures of the body too much as ends, and so he indulges his
disposition or animus and cupidities alone. Or, conscious of no burning desire
of an end, he is like a dead stock, weakened in mind ; or like boys growing up,
he does not know that wealth should be acquired with care as the general means
to ends. All these things indicate that the animus is the prodigal, and not the
mind. Liberality is also either a vice or a virtue, for it is for an end, and
the end qualifies the means. It is a vice if it is for loves of the world and
the body, and thus for ostentation. It is a virtue if it is for superior loves,
as for the works of charity; thus they regard wealth as mutually received, as
committed to their charge, as to be dispensed and returned. The contempt of
money, if it is not feigned, is a supereminent virtue, for the contemnor turns
away from money as he would from the vices and evils to which they are the irritants
and perpetual allurements, for the possession of wealth can never be separated
from the idea of those delights and pleasures of which it is a means. That
which is to be and can be, the mind regards as though present and being ; thus
all loves of the world and of the body are worldly and corporeal in the idea,
as though they were in a6t. The possession of wealth in this way perpetually
irritates and is a universal decoy, and so the mind descends and buries itself
in all natural things, worldly and corporeal, from which it is impossible to
be elevated to higher things, celestial and divine. If money is despised on
this account, such contempt is, as was said, a supereminent virtue.
151
Pity and Charity,
(238.) There are some who
are compassionate from nature, some from use, some from purely moral causes,
and some from principles of the reason. Compassion from nature, or what
is the same thing, from the pure mind and soul, flows forth toward others from
an innate love, so that it coincides with love itself, of which it is the first
effeft, another form of charity. For love regards another as itself, and so it
pities others although it may be deserving of pity itself. Love toward husband
or wife, children, blood relations, that is, one’s own, produces pity, and
this, charity, which extends itself as far as the love. Love toward society and
country, and the more universal love toward the human race, and that which is
most universal, toward the human race past and future, a purer and more
perfeft love than the former, produces a pity and charity toward all who from
this love are spiritually called neighbours, while naturally they are nearer or
more remote, since nature alone admits of degree. Thus pity and charity are
not joined to self-love and spurious ambition, whence these are virtues of
virtues. Such a love cannot be given without its effeft ; consequently from
charity and pity, which are effefts, it can be judged concerning love, thence
concerning the state of the mind and soul.
Pity from use emulates pity from
nature, for it- passes as it were into the natural, since with the passing of
time it imbues the mind with the principles of love. This properly is a moral
virtue, because it is within the will, not of itself, but of ourselves, to
which we contribute as so many instrumental causes through application to the
influx of the principal cause.
Pity is conceived also
from purely moral causes, and is acquired through use, and thus born, it may be, from
principles of virtue and piety ; but this pity supposes a faith not in-
telleftual, and thus is insinuated from obedience through use ; for faith is
something that is not in our own power.
Pity from the principles
of reason,
whether from a spurious or legitimate love, is derived from a spurious love,
that is, from the love of self. He who is a lover of self is never
compassionate, for he does not love others as he loves himself. Nor does he
who hates ever pity him whom he hates, for no one hates another as another
unless he loves himself, that is, unless for causes which oppose his self- love.
But notwithstanding, the external works of pity can flow from the principle of
this same love of self, so indeed that one may seem kind, compassionate, and a
lover of others, for he knows that it is a virtue, wherefore his self-love
stimulates him to appear such and acquire distinction ; or also from the
principle that others may pity him if he should happen to be an unfortunate ;
then indeed he exercises charity toward those who are wealthy that he may be
rewarded, but this is without pity or love.
Pity from principles of
legitimate love supposes an intellectual faith, or that from persuasion one knows pity
as the efleCt of pure celestial and spiritual love. The principles of the mind
are [regarded as] so many rational truths, for everyone believes his own
principles to be truths.
(239.) The effeCt of pity
is in the mind anxiety, in the animus sadness, and in the body weeping, and at
the same time a pitiful voice ; the image of pity also stands out in the
countenance. Thus the effeCts of pity and sadness coincide ; but it is such
that one suffers as if this sadness were his own, for he whom he pities is his
other self.
(240.) The objeCts of pity
are innumerable. Poverty and unhappiness are general objeCts. There are also
those persons who pity the opulence and celebrity of others, regarding these
things as causes of misery and incentives to vices. Everyone pities the
avaricious man. There is poverty in worldly, intellectual, and spiritual
things. What poverty in worldly things is, is known ; poverty in intellectual
things is ignorance ; a hallucination of principles
THE ANIMUS AND ITS
AFFECTIONS. I 53 or of opinions concerning truth is silliness and insanity ; poverty
in spiritual things is a feeble faith or total want of faith, a cold love or no
love whatever of Deity, and so no charity from that which is the soul itself of
charity. All these kinds of poverty are infelicities. But to judge of poverty
and infelicity is of our rational mind whose choice and application are
accordingly various, since there are as many minds as varieties; for with him
whom we pity there always intercedes a certain correspondence of principles.
Thus this application is not natural but acquired.
(241.) Nothing is more
natural than to protect life and its essence, and to wish to continue one’s
being, and to preserve that connection which, by virtue of form, one possesses.
The soul, which is living essence, while it is united to the body furnishes
this with sensory organs, that it may be aware of any attempt to destroy it. At
each single assault which injures it, and at every disharmony, it is grieved,
saddened, altered, and constrained. This alteration is called fear ; for in
fear the fibre contracts itself, and withdraws into itself; it becomes hardened
and resists as if senseless. The blood is expelled from the arteries so that
the heart palpitates. The animal spirit is expelled from the fibres, so that
the muscles are deprived of their own motive force, the sensorial organs of
their perceptibility. A chilliness and pallor seize the face and limbs. They
shiver and shake. The animus deprived of its own cupidities falls extind ; in
the mind is the image of death. Thus fear is a certain extinction of the mind
and animus, and as it were an anticipated death of the body, for its appearance
is seen in the body.
(242.) Since the life of
the animus and the life of the mind exist from pure loves because from
affeCtions, it follows that we apprehend, we fear or dread the injuring of each
and every love, because they are ends of the mind ; we fear also every love
which is a means to or assists such an injury ; thus all things which bring,
as we believe, any deadly hurt. Just so far then as we love the end do we fear
its privation and dread its annihilation. The same is true of the subject in
whom is the end ; for love cannot be given as an end unless it is in some' subject.
(243.) And so all fear is
natural; and it is as great and of the same character as is the love or end
which we desire. There are loves both natural and acquired ; but whether the
love be natural or acquired, nevertheless fear and a departure from nature
accompany each when the danger of its extinction or privation threatens. This
nature is in the rational mind, to which belong loves, desires, and ends. For
whatever the mind does not observe, this it does not fear ; and when it does
fear, the mind is no more master of itself or competent, but undergoes a kind
of swoon.
(244.) There are as many
fears and as many kinds of fear as there are loves and kinds of love. Everyone
naturally fears for his own body, whether he loves himself before others or
others before himself; the love of preserving the relation between body and
soul is innate with everyone; where there is a relation of dependence of one
upon another, there is love. He who loves himself before others also fears more
for his own safety than for the safety of others. He who truly loves others
more than himself, fears more for the safety of others than for his own ;
therefore from fear the quality and degree of love, and what love is, is known.
He who loves his country more than himself considers it glorious to die for his
country, or at least for the fame of which this illustrious glory is a part.
He who loves his wife and children more than himself, suffers death rather than
see these loves extinguished. This is also natural to brutes, as in the case of
does, stags, hens, geese ; for the female boldly
confronts the
enemy which approaches her young. He who prefers fame to life is fearful of his
fame or fears its loss. They are magnanimous who are fearful of the fame of
honesty and virtue. Whence it follows that fear of the loss of a superior love
renders bold the inferior love. He is a hero who fears no loss of the life of
the body when fame is endangered, whose loss he would greatly fear. Also the
same hero when his fame is not endangered, fears greatly for his own body, to
the end that he may live for fame and for society.
(245.) He is
without reason who prefers the life of his body to the life of his fame, or to
honesty, virtue, society, country, and the human race; yet he is still more contemptible
who like the miser prefers wealth and similar things to himself and his life.
The most timid of all men, he is still an intrepid defender of his treasure,
the deprivation of which often leads to suicide. The most despicable and the
lowest of all mortals is he who fears nothing for truth, sacred things, heaven,
and Deity, but only for his own life. Thus fears show of what kind the loves
are, and which love is preferred to another. What love is and what the fear of
losing the love of God, the martyrs have testified. Souls which are sublime and
elevated above mortal things do not fear to undergo death for truth, especially
such as is celestial and divine, because they are fearful for the truth and
dread its extinction. But our truths, except such as are divinely revealed, are
mere principles of the rational mind. To fear no danger of life or to meet
death in defending these denotes indeed a sublime mind, but it may be also an
insane one. Such are some of the martyrdoms of heretics and others which
historians relate.
Fortitude; Intrepidity; Courage {Animosity).
(246.) Bravery
is a heroic virtue, especially in war, and is manifested in battles, combined
with intrepidity and magnanimity. There are many kinds of bravery, all of which
aim to be regarded as heroic. Common minds think that it is shown only in
intrepidity and courage, but a genuine bravery shows itself always more
evidently and boldly when the cause is regarded as greater, superior, more
universal; and on the other hand it is more languid where the cause is meaner,
inferior, and slighter. The bravery is greatest when intrepidity in the less
cause is greater, and in the great cause is less. Insane persons, misers, and
others of weak mind, who are terrified by the slightest whisper, also are bold
in guarding their treasure ; while in a public cause they are quite unnerved at
the sight of a drop of blood.
(247.) Nothing
more difficult is known than to discover whether bravery is genuine or false.
Genuine bravery, whatever may be the cause, is never turned into fear, but in
place of fear into anger, and anger then becomes zeal and a just grievance.
False bravery secretly conceals fear. Externally and on the surface it shows
the animus, and if it is turned to anger it is an unjust anger, grief, or fury.
Genuine bravery is mild, patient, and clement even toward enemies; but the
false is inflamed and breaks forth into cruelty. Genuine bravery is present in
the greatest dangers of life, in the animus and mind, and it is the more
present and prudent as the perils are greater. Then a false bravery in the
animus either melts away or becomes a rage, and the person is insane like one
who has lost his mind ; he is beside himself, and no longer his own master.
Genuine bravery is never united to self-love, but is the inseparable companion
of the supreme love of many and of society, with which love it increases. False
bravery is from an opposite principle ; for an extreme love of self inspires
the immortality of fame, but whether it be from a genuine bravery or a spurious
one is distinguished by this, that this self-love does not desire these goods
of others and of society, but rather that it may seem to all the world to
desire them ; and thus from the charafter of the ambition is understood what
the bravery is. Genuine bravery is most closely united with humility,
adoration, fear and love of Deity. But false bravery is united with pride,
haughtiness, hatred, impiety, and with a contempt, hatred, or denial of Deity.
The greater the bravery is the greater is the life ; the less bravery the less
life there is, even to the condition being comparable to death itself.
(248.)
Intrepidity which is an attribute of fortitude is not acquired but is inborn.
Hence it appertains to the race and descends to a remote posterity, for the
brave beget the brave ; it is often a trait belonging naturally to a whole
people. For the intrepid does not truly fear the loss or the extinction of that
love or that end by which he is led, be it for life, for fame, or for country,
but he boldly defends these ; since his animus is roused and inflamed at any
insults, and the more ardently as he is by nature the more brave, but at the
same time the more moderately in the degree that danger threatens, inasmuch as
the intrepidity of true bravery is conjoined with presence of animus and of
mind, and carefully discerns dangers as to their character, and takes council
in the field, and thus afts either with ardour or with prudence, according to
the state and the possibility of peril. But fear, which is the contrary effeft
and likewise a natural trait, does not rouse and inflame the animus at the
presence of peril, but de- jefts and quenches it.
(249.) As fear
and intrepidity also, since they are both natural traits, are inscribed in the
very blood itself, in the spirit of the blood, in their organs, and in the
body, so it also follows that intrepidity makes itself seen in the face itself,
in the eyes, in the sound of the voice, in the respiration, in the strength of
the muscles, and in the aftions; especially it appears from the arteries of the
body and the fibres of the brain, which are stronger and more robust in the
intrepid than in the timid, since the strength of the whole body is in the
arterial blood and animal spirit.
This is the
reason why we‘ascribe to the brave a great heart and a great animus, which is
[a property] of the brain. The force of this blood and spirit is excited from
the in- mosts, that is, from the superior mind or that of the pure intelledlory
; hence a presence of animus and a sudden light suffused over the mind, a heat,
and as it were a fervour of the blood, strength in the limbs, and a kind of
foaming in the cheeks and glands. Such an example of bravery and intrepidity
lived in Charles the Hero of the North, in whom it was an inherited trait,
since he derived it from his ancestors, the Charleses and the Gustavuses. He
knew not what that was which others called fear, and he laughed at all threats
of death. So he lived the life which he is also still to live, far removed from
death and superior to the failing life of the body. There is present with such
souls a singular providence, because there is something divine in them, and it
provides for them a life to which they do not aspire, even one that is immortal
in the midst of the mortal.
(250.) That
not all bravery and intrepidity is inborn, but that there is also a kind which
is acquired, we see some to be persuaded from the examples afforded in those
timid and fearful persons who sometimes a<T bravely, although not from
their nature but artificially, and from the state of their blood and change of
their spirits ; for intoxicating drinks and those aliments of the blood which
excite a fervour, even fever itself, mania and insanities frequently infuse
such an animus and elevate minds to a seeming bravery. But this is not bravery
but rather courage, which is merely in the blood, in the body, on the surface,
and in the outermost parts, while still the fear lies hidden within, ready to
return whenever this fervour of the blood ceases. From this courage also we may
be strengthened in our con\i£tion that bravery and intrepidity are natural
gifts. For this courage is not excited in these persons until the nature of the
blood and of the spirits is changed, and it ceases with the changing cause ;
while everything that is natural [or inborn], even if violently expelled,
nevertheless returns. Their mind is also an inebriated one, rather than a
rational mind in which bravery finds its springs, and as soon as fear returns,
at the mere idea of the danger already passed, the heart palpitates, the blood
rushes into the veins, the limbs collapse, and a cold sweat is produced.
(251.) But
indeed, of those possessed of an innate fear, whose mind nevertheless is imbued
with the principles of the virtues and with the highest loves, on account of
which they vehemently long for a corresponding nature and hate their own which
does not answer to these longings, there may be predicated an acquired
fortitude, if for the sake of becoming fearless and brave they excite and
inebriate the blood by the natural means just mentioned, regarding these as
aids in resuscitating the forces naturally languid and torpid. This bravery is
the greater moral virtue, in that it comes not into the mind of itself or
instindtively, but from a recognition of the truth which one venerates in
others outside of oneself and sees to be impossible in oneself except it be
actuated by means. For whatever the mind does of itself is a virtue or a vice,
but whatever it does not of itself but by nature, this is neither a virtue nor
a vice until the mind has descended to participate in the adt. But this
acquired bravery never equals that which is natural, since it is inconstant
like the mind itself, which is governed by principles.
Indignation ; Anger; Fury; Zeal.
(252.) In
order to understand what anger is, and what is its nature as compared with
other affedtions of the animus, we must institute a comparison with those
affedtions which are purely natural and obvious to sight. For a certain
likeness appears which we recognize from the mere statement. It was observed
above that love is the very life of the mind and the animus, for without love there would be neither
mind nor animus. In what followed it came also to be proved that the intelligence or the reason of the mind
corresponds to light, and that light, clearness, shade, darkness, and other
terms applicable to light are applied to the intellect. We have also observed
above that ambition may be compared to heat, for love without ambition is as
life without heat. But zeal is to be likened to a kind of fire, for ambition
without zeal is like heat without fire. When the zeal or the fire of the superior
mind passes over into the rational or inferior mind, then it is commonly called
ardour \excancles cent ia\ ; but when it passes into the animus and
thence into the body, it becomes the corporeal and impure fire which is called
anger, the flame itself being called fury. Hence it appears that the beginning
of ardour, of anger, and of fury, is in the soul itself and the pure
intelleftory, in other words that it is conceived and born in and from these ;
thus that in its proper source, zeal or the pure fire is naturally mild,
becoming aftive wlien truths, whether natural or spiritual, are to be guarded ;
but that it goes forth impure in its derivation ; for when the mind grows warm
it defends, as if with a kind of zeal, its principles by the love of which it is
carried away as though by the love of so many truths, and it attacks the
contrary, whence arise disputes and philosophical contests. However, that this
ardour of the mind breaks forth into a certain fire or anger in the animus and
at length into flame, in which the whole system or bodily principle is
enkindled, that is, into fury, is apparent from the effeft itself, for it is
manifest in the sensible heat and fire, inasmuch as the blood burns, the
viscera are heated even to the marrow, the membranes and extremities are
inflamed, the respiration becomes harsh, the sound of the voice is hardened, as
when the air is heated, the arteries swell as when the atmosphere is heated,
both the internal and external senses are disturbed as though they were excited
from their natural equilibrium into a turmoil of motions by some fire ; also
the thicker coverings are brought together, or the fermenting substances moved
from their place. Thus the heated bile, which lay hidden away in its
gall-bladder, is poured into the mass of blood, by whose grains or hard
particles the lighter and softer blood is excited, as by external stimulants,
into a similar rage. Thus not even the least part is without its anger or heat.
(253.) Zeal
therefore is a natural affedtion with which the superior mind or the soul and
the pure intelledfory are furnished, in order, it would appear, that the soul
may guard its spiritual truths, and the intelledfory its natural truths, and
oppose the falsities themselves which are contrary to these truths, with
increased heat or with fire. For when there is a falsity and a truth, or a good
and an evil, and also to both of these a force of adting, or a life, it is
necessary that there be a zeal or heat even to the fire of adt, in order that
the enemies be brought into assault. This is the reason why zeal is attributed
to spiritual essences and to Deity himself, who is described as adtuated by
wrath or anger, as also why when any one is heated and angered he ascribes this
to a certain legitimate zeal for the truth or for the defense of a just cause.
There would be no such affedtion unless there were an enemy; therefore anger
is the evident proof that in the spiritual and invisible world there is some
evil which is to be combatted.
(254.) But our
rational mind, which regards its principles as so many truths, is also said to
be kindled with a certain zeal ; still inasmuch as the very principles of our
reason are rarely from truths, therefore this zeal is also rarely a pure one ;
the wrathful kindling thus originating is harsh and vehement, like ignited
carbon which is consumed by its own fire. But whether the fire be pure or
impure may be known from the love itself and from the particular affedtions and
desires of the mind, especially from ambition, which is heat, and most
immediately rouses this fire. Such therefore as is the love or the ambition
such is the zeal or kindling of the mind.
(255.) As
soon, however, as this fire breaks forth from the rational mind into the
animus, it is borne as if from a sphere of immaterial into one of material
ideas and is called anger, for the animus is said to become angered ; on which
account its way inclines toward the body, which in accordance with the anger
of the animus becomes warm, boils, bursts into flame and rages, since the whole
animus is transfused immediately into the body.
(256.) But
indignation belongs only to the rational mind, and is the first degree of angry
heat. There are, nevertheless, in indignation many elements which moderate,
temper, and restrain it, lest it break out; for there is either fear, or some
love, or shame, or sadness, which are so many reins and barriers to hold it in.
Patience ; Gentleness ; Tranquillity of Mind; Impatience.
(257.) From
anger we may know what and of what quality is patience, for where patience is
there anger is not. In so far, indeed, as anger may be compared with a certain
fire and flame, patience may be compared with a kind of cold; as anger with
hardness (for indeed its elements as if brazen are hardened by fire), so
patience with softness ; as anger with the highest degree of activity, so
patience with passivity, whence the name itself is derived. Therefore patience
is a tranquil, serene state of the mind, as it were free from the storms and
commotion of the affections of the animus.
(258.)
Patience also, like anger, is written in the body; something mild and patient
shines forth from the countenance, from the very sound of the speech, and so
far as it appertains to the mind, from the discourse also. The face is serene,
smiling, even while others burn ; the blood is softer, healthier, warm but not
burning, full of vital heat but not concreted into fibres ; the pulse is
lighter and more constant, the bile is not dark but more yellow in colour, the
arteries more yielding, the fibres tender, the organs more vigorous and ready
to obey the dilates of the mind, and in all parts there is manifest a pleasing
grace, if not beauty. In a word, each particular part of the body is patient ;
for as is the mind and the animus such is the state of the most particular
parts of the whole body, since the latter conforms to the image and nature of
its soul. If otherwise it is a sign that the mind is injured from some cause.
(259.)
Patience, so far as it is the tranquil and serene state of the mind, free from
disturbance by the affections of the animus, is itself the most perfeCt state ;
for the mind is, in this state, left to itself, has time for its own
operations, regards its reasons more interiorly, and forms its judgments more
sincerely, and out of these it seleCts the truer, the better, and more fitting,
and remits them into its will, which then is not possessed with the tumult of
natural desires. Thus enjoying an almost perfeCt liberty, it holds the animus
subjeCt to itself as if in chains, nor does it permit it to wander beyond the
limits of its own choice. Thus also it commands the aCtions of its body, and
more purely and intelligently receives and contemplates its sensations. When
the mind is thus left to itself, and neither corporeal or mundane things nor
the heat thence arising disturbs its ease, then it enjoys the inmost fellowship
with its pure intelleCtory or the soul, and suffers natural and spiritual
truths to flow in ; for it is only the corporeal affeCtions and desires of the
animus which obscure and pervert the intellectual ideas of the mind. Hence it
is that the mind, in its state of patience or tranquility, is cold in its
constitution as compared with the heats of the animus and thence of the body,
but very full of love or of the more pure and perfeCt life. For that there be
any mind . it.must be warmed with a certain love, but the purer this is the
purer is the mind, because the better is the life. From this state the mind
regards the lower loves and those purely corporeal as infantile sports, or as
insane, and the more so as they arc believed to be wise. Thus witnessing these
it does not become heated and angered, but it pities, condoles, pardons, tries
to amend, rejoices in its success, bears its injuries as a mother those
infliCted by her child ; for it embraces all in its love, while it hates vices.
Patience, therefore, may well exist without anger, but it is not without its
zeal by which it defends, although with moderation, its truths. The mind is
never disturbed by such a fire, still less extinguished, but is refreshed, for
this agrees with its nature. For the rational mind, the more it is liberated
from impure fires the more it burns with the pure fire which is mild and does
not rage, but restores its state.
(260.) Such
patience, which is the moderator of the passions of the animus, is rarely
inborn, for every one has an inclination to certain affections of the mind ;
but with age and with the judgment it grows, and especially is it perfected by
its own exercise ; but that which is genuine does not exist without the truths
of religion and the principles of piety, nor without violence done to the natures
of the animus and the body. Misfortune even, and sickness, which repress the
fervour of the blood and the spirits, are also frequently the causes of this
patience.
(261.) The
character of impatience may be inferred from this description of patience, for
it is of the rational mind, which desires ends, while the end is hindered or obstructed
by intervening obstacles or by the ideas of impossibilities, which are so many
resistances, lest the will should break forth into aCts. Hence the animus which
desires is tortured, and the body is distressed and the mind regards single
moments as long delays. Thus the more ardent is the animus the greater is the
impatience ; the more tranquil the mind, the less it is. Least of all is the
impatience of those who commit their fortunes to the Divine Providence
(262.) In
shame both the internal and the external sensory, as also the single fibres and
single arteries, contraCt themselves, since whatever is the state of the sensory
such is that of the fibres and consequently of the arteries. Thus the spirit is
expelled by the nervous fibres into the motor fibres of the arteries, and the
blood from the larger arteries into the capillaries, whence arises a redness
and inflammation of the face, dropping of the eyes, a hiding, a stupor of the
sensations, cessation of breathing and of the determinations of the will, or
inaction. For. the sensory itself, being compressed, does not dare as it were
to lift itself, but withdraws into itself so that the mind may hide itself, not
only from others but from itself; since it is the shame of self so far as the
mind itself is conscious of anything indecorous, dishonest, or criminal.
Therefore when no one except the mind itself is aware it is rarely ashamed,
unless with regard to the faCt that some other may know [the cause of shame].
Accordingly, without committing any crime even, the mind may be suffused with
shame reflecting on the possibilities of its happening, or on something
noticed which it alone knows. Shame belongs to the brave and the timid alike;
in the brave the face blushes, in the timid it turns pale, for the fear of some
injury or loss ensues. Shame also lets down the muscles of the face, so that
they are without any determining force like that of the pendulum.
(263.) There
is this other difference between fear and shame, that fear causes the internal
and external sensories to fall lifeless and insensible of themselves, but that
shame, of its own will and by a native force, contracts its sensory and takes
away its faculty of changing its state; wherefore, in that moment, before it
recolleCts itself, all determination of will ceases, and there follows an
oblivion or forgetfulness of particular things.
(264.) Shame
increases according to the sincerity of the mind and its love of what is
honourable; for then it fears to sin against the rules of honour or against the
rules of the decorous, which it'believes is the honourable, since there are
those who do not well distinguish the decorous from the honourable and
therefore are affected with the shame of both. But inasmuch as the honourable
declares itself through the decorous, since the decorous is the external of the
honourable, therefore we are careful to observe the laws of both. Shame is
greater in the presence of superiors than of equals, and there is none in the
presence of inferiors except the mind be a greater lover of the honourable. Shame
is greater also in the presence of those we love and venerate ; but when the
love is mutual and in place of veneration pure love succeeds, there is as it
were another self. The shame then is none other than one feels of one’s self
alone. That is a sublime mind which feels shame even in no one’s presence, a
proof that it is led by veneration toward the truth, toward honesty, toward
justice, and the other virtues, and regards these as being themselves its own
superiors.
(265.) There
is little or no shame in those who scorn and are averse to virtue itself, and
who esteem no one as their superior, as also in the stupid and dull of
intellect. Wherefore the lowest of men, without conscience, without love of
honour, are those who feel no shame, who are possessed of a most criminal
intent, and who in the presence of crimes which they are conscious of having
committed or of being about to commit, stand with open and lifted eyes, or as
exhibiting no spark of the higher mind within.
(266.) But
inasmuch as principles regarding the honourable and decorous are somewhat
various, the sense of shame also varies somewhat, one person not being affected
with the feeling of another; thus these senses of shame take their turn. We are
also affefied even with the shame of those with whom we have had no
acquaintance ; which comes from its being reflexed from them upon ourselves,
and thus from a certain friendly relationship which we sustain with all of our
race.
(267.) Envy is
hatred mingled with anger, but the anger lies concealed like fire under the
ashes, wherefore it is an inmost consuming heat which when it breaks forth
causes insanity. Hence the blood is suffused and heavy with bile, thick, full
of flecks, of obscure colour, stagnant in the least pores, whence comes the
blueness in the face. This same fire also consumes and scorches, and this
causes leanness. The gall bladder is crowded with the black bile, because of
its continually spouting forth anew, and this is mingled with the blood. There
is also a darkness in the countenance, hatred mingled with anger gleams from
the eyes, where there is no light of joy, and even in the voice and speech
something harsh is perceived. The animus is always obscure, and the mind sad ;
it is rarely lightened and exhilarated, for it perceives nothing of the
sweetness of harmony. The very state of the mind is a discord, wherefore it
loves disharmony as harmony. Thence the very misfortune, poverty, and miseries
of others are what soothe and gratify it ; nor does it rejoice in its own good
fortune or happiness unless there lies hidden even in this something of
revenge.
(268.)
Particular envy is common to all, and most natural, for it is found even in
little children, and in brute animals and their young. For example, we envy in
another that which we ourselves love, as a lover the bride, and a competitor
the honour of his rival ; so in other things, the envy never extending beyond
the limit of that which we love and desire.
But a general
envy arises from the supreme love of self. It envies all people, all things,
and each one particular thing; it imagines the universe its own and for
itself, and itself as the whole and not a part. It envies others their heaven ;
the devil envies even Deity his power. Thus at heart it is the enemy of all. But
he who is not a lover of self, but generous, is not envious. From the
description of' hatred and anger, if these are compared, still further
particulars may be derived [concerning envy].
Revenge,
(270.) Revenge
flows from hatred and envy. Hatred indeed is the contrary of love; but it is
not the privation of love and thus of life. It is rather a contrary love, and
especially a love of the evil. For there is a love of the good and a love of
the evil. One is contrary to the other, hence one hates the other. Thus in
hatred there is a life, and if life there is also heat and fire, but that which
is grosser, more impure, hence natural and corporeal. It resides in the animus
and not in the mind, unless the mind be united with the animus of the body.
This heat of hatred is called the lust of revenge, and if anger ensues such as
is that of envy, then it becomes fire and vengeance. Thus the lust of revenge
is the very fire, the adlive principle or highest degree of the activity of
hatred or of the love of evil.
(271.) As envy
is particular and general, so also is revenge and its lust. Particular envy is
natural to all, and is the lust of revenge, thus it is inborn in tender infants
before the age of reason, and in particular animals which are even by nature
furnished with weapons for defense against injuries. And since revenge is
natural it is also naturally pleasing, since it clears up the sad mind and
clouded animus, refreshes and restores it to its natural condition, hatred
being dissipated and envy extinguished. The pleasure of revenge is according to
the degree in which hatred and particular envy had existed; but the desire of
revenge is for the most part accompanied with sadness, unless the mind sees
the possibility of obtaining its end, although in some minds the desire itself
exhilarates the animus.
(272.) The
general desire of revenge is similar to general envy, for it arises from the
same source, and thus similar attributes belong to both; the latter is always
united with a spurious ambition or with the love of self. The desire of
revenge is never united with true ambition or with the universal love of the
good, unless for the sake of the extirpation of evil. For zeal and righteous
sorrow give birth to revenge, but still in the desire and in the revenge love
remains, for it wishes to destroy the evil in order that after its destruction
it may revive the good. Such is the divine vengeance: but the greater the love
the greater the desire of avenging evil, since love persuades to be like itself
and to be united with itself. Whatever therefore, disjoins and hinders the
possession of the desired good, love hates and devours, and eagerly seeks to
annihilate ; and this often is accompanied with anxiety, grief, and unhappiness in the
subjeCL
Misanthropy ; Love of Solitude.
(273.)
Misanthropy is properly the hatred of the human race, or it flows from such a
universal hatred; rarely from envy or from hatred mixed with anger, since this
breathes vengeance, which presupposes life in society. Misanthropy is united with
contempt, or privation of a sensibility,of the pleasure of the body or of the
delights of the animus. There are misanthropes who do not appear such, because
they possess an animus desirous of pleasures which can only be indulged in
company and in civil life, or by sociability. There are those also who from
their esteem of reputation are unwilling to appear as misanthropes, but when
once this desire and this love of fame ceases they become such. They are for
the most part extremely given up to self-love. This vice is very natural and
inborn, for it arises sometimes from the ill success of some highest love, and
thus from despair, since the highest love persuades that the only thing and the
all in the universe is that which it loves, and this being lost it believes all
to be lost. The misanthrope is regarded in society as nobody or as an abjedt,
and this he deserves since by his hatred he is separated from all. He is to be
the more esteemed, indeed, if he separates himself than if he intermingles, for
when he mixes with society he injures others, but when alone only himself.
(274.) There
are misanthropes special and particular those, namely, who hold in aversion or
hatred some special race, or nation, or family, or certain persons. If this
proceeds from hatred and from the causes of hatred, if from aversion and indeed
a natural aversion, it is antipathy ; if from what is acquired, it is from
some presumed or real dissimilitude of principles and of loves; this also can
be turned into antipathy, which remains in one’s posterity.
(275.) The
love of solitude is commonly believed to be misanthropy because misanthropy loves to be solitary. But
the love of solitude may have its origin in a great many other causes; it
arises naturally from melancholy, when it is a disease sometimes curable, for
then it inmostly desires to indulge its phantasies, and even extends these so
far that it interests itself in particular things, in thought if not in the
body. He also loves to be alone who is devoted to studies, especially those of
a theoretical nature, and who chooses solitude lest the mind be disturbed, and
he loves his studies and his solitude in equal measure. For that the mind may
be at ease it must as it were be separated from those things which excite the
animus and the sensations of the body and also the other loves of the mind. He
also is accustomed to be solitary who thinks all things to be only vanity and
himself alone not a vanity, or who desires to become secure from vanities and
therefore separates himself from society, as certain philosophers are wont to
do, the chief of whom either laugh at
all things or
weep at all things. Those are solitary by zeal and not by their nature who
sacrifice themselves to God lest they be drawn away by worldly enticements, like
the hermits, the most illustrious of whom are those who use force and violence
in controlling the desires of their animus, and thus their bodies, and do this
with the intent that they may go forth the more pure and holy.
Cruelty.
(276.) Cruelty
in general is the love of extirpating the human race, finding its highest
delight in their anxieties, griefs, and pains. It flows from hatred and general
misanthropy, and a supreme degree of self-love. For the subject of this love
regards himself alone as the universe, and all those who are about him as
opposing him because he cannot alone exist. This love also arises from an extreme
degree of love of the world, or it may be of honours, or from an extreme love
of the good things of the earth, that is, of riches, thus from envy of a
general kind. It is especially opposed to pity. What the character of cruelty
is appears, therefore, from the face itself, thus whether it come from the love
of self, or from the love of the world, or of the good things of earth, and thus
from hatred or envy toward those who possess these, seeing that he alone
desires to possess them. This is the reason why cruelty is often hidden under a
very honest face, but if it be exercised is likely to change into an aspedi of
hatred and revenge, and to end in madness.
(277.) In all
revenge there is cruelty, for he who is desirous of revenge loves to have the
one he hates tortured in mind and in body, and this according to the degree
of his hatred ; but the vengeance that arises from zeal and from a righteous
displeasure loves to give pain so far as this is the means of extirpating the
evil, the love toward the person remaining all the while undiminished. The
cruelty is the same whether it flows from one’s own hatred or from that of
another whom one loves as himself. It ascends according to the degree of the
love. He who slays his enemies is not cruel, but he is cruel who ill- treats
the conquered and those incapable of harm. Therefore as is the vengeance such
is the cruelty ; as is the hatred, such the vengeance ; and as are the anger
and zeal in the vengeance such is the pleasure of this vengeance.
(278.) There
is a certain correspondence between venereal love and cruelty, or between the
love of propagating and the love of extirpating the human race. They are
contrary in themselves, but they agree in the phenomena of their effedts, as
those contraries often do which come together in a third term, for otherwise
the circle of their relation could not exist. Each of these loves excites the
organs of the sensory, the fibres, the members of generation, and produces the
generative substance, as is known from natural history. Hence it appears that
the affedtion of cruelty is as delicious to perverted minds as is the venereal
love to minds that are pure, for the one does not extinguish the other but
excites it. Such would be the Devil clothed in a human form.
Clemency.
(279.)
Clemency is the queen and as it were the goddess of virtues. Wherefore to be
clement is to be not only kingly but divine, as the king by clemency emulates
the Deity. For true clemency is without hatred, without self-love, without
envy, vengeance, anger, cruelty, or without any naturally unpleasant affedtion.
It is always conjoined with love toward those to whom the clemency is exercised,
thus united with tranquillity of the animus, happiness of mind, ard pity. Love
is always clement. From clemency the quality of the love may be known, and to
whom extended. If it is the love of truth there is clemency united with
justice ; if the love of honour and virtues, especially if it be the love of
piety and veneration of the Deity, the case is the same.
(280.) But if
the love be that of vices, falsities, vanities, impiety, clemency will be
exercised to the disadvantage of those by whose mutual love it is affected,
and this clemency is spurious and unjust. Clemency is for the most part a
natural trait, like patience, for he who is clement cannot be cruel ; this
clemency is opposed to cruelty and from the description of cruelty the character
of clemency may appear. But there is also an acquired clemency when cruelty is
joined to fear but lies hidden, a snake in the grass. Clemency may be therefore
both spurious and legitimate, thus a vice and a virtue.
Intemperance; Luxury.
(281.)
Intemperance in general means all excess of the desires of the mind, of the
lusts of the animus, of the delights and pleasures of the body, of the world
and the good things of the earth. But intemperance in particular means excess
in eating and drinking, as when we call it indulging one’s appetite,
sacrificing to Bacchus and Ceres, and caring for the belly. Every love and
every pleasure is for the sake of the end that we may live a healthy life in a
healthy body; therefore the earth abounds in every thing enabling us to enjoy
these loves and pleasures, provided it be as means and not as ends. When we
regard particular loves and particular pleasures as means, then we enjoy each
in a temperate way and in a manner to attain the end. But when we regard these
as ends and not as means then we fall into excess, and the more ardently as we
love the end.
(282.) Thus
intemperance denotes a perverse state of mind, very limited and material, which
in a word confines its ends to very narrow limits. But the more elevated mind
perceives that one thing is for the sake of another, and that there is a chain
of means to a most universal end. Such a chain is the created universe, or the
world, or terrestial society, or our very selves.
(283.) There
is nothing in our entire body which is not a means to some higher end. The last
end is the soul, for the sake of which the body exists. The soul, which is the
end of the loves of the body, is not the most universal end, but is an end
intermediate to a more universal one, nor do we conclude with anything short of
the very Deity of the universe, which is the end and the beginning of all
things.
(284.)
Therefore since there is nothing which is not an intermediate end, it follows
that there can be intemperance in all means which are assumed as ends. For all
means in themselves are [regarded] as ends because they are distinCt terms, but
they are [properly] ends [intermediate] or intermediate terms. Therefore to
enumerate all kinds of intemperance and describe their cause, nature, and
effeCt, would be to review again all the affections of the mind, the animus,
and the body. Any one from the description of the affeCtions may judge of their
defeat and excess.
(285.) This
alone need be said, that all intemperance is contrary to nature, and what does
violence to nature destroys either our mind, or our animus, or our body. Thus
when these are ruled by the will, and the will by desire, and the desire by
loves, not as means but as ends, we rush into so many causes of destruction,
whence is the death of the body.
(286.) But the
virtues, honesty, perfection, spiritual happiness, these can never be
intemperately desired and loved, for in the body we never shall be able to
arrive at perfection itself, but the infinite will still remain beyond. But
spiritual intemperance is to desire perfection more perfeCt than its own nature
admits of being; thus as if the mind could become like the soul, or the soul
like God, instead of being only most perfeCt in its own degree, and thus an
image, type, and likeness of things superior.
(287.) The
inferior form can never be elevated to the
perfection of
the superior form, unless by previous dissolution and its own death. Therefore
we subsist still within the limits of temperance as long as we desire a more
perfect state, however immoderately it may appear ; thus so long as the mind
desires intelligence and wisdom. Intemperance, therefore, is always a vice and
not a virtue.
Temperance; Parsimony ; Frugality.
(288.) We
learn what temperance is from the description of intemperance, that, namely,
it is a moderate use of the delights and pleasures of the body in order that
these may be corresponding and proportionate means to ends. TJius intemperance
properly signifies excess, but it involves also a defeCt, for a defect in one
regard does not exist without an excess in some other, as a defect in
nourishing the body indicates an excessive economy; and there is besides an
excess of avarice or of abstinence which is equally injurious to the body.
Therefore a moderation in all things is itself temperance, but it is known by
other names when reference is had to other objects; as temperance denotes
moderation in eating and drinking, parsimony, moderation in spending wealth
and the goods of the earth, while frugality has regard to domestic economy. So
in other things. Meanwhile, inasmuch as temperance is a natural mediocrity, it
is qualified according to the nature of any one, wherefore the temperance of
one is sometimes the intemperance of another, and so on. Therefore the measure
and the scales of all the affections of the mind as well as of the animus and
of the body, of which we have thus far treated, is temperance which is the
preserver of all in order that there may be a sound mind in a sound body.
In a word, explore
that you may understand what is true and what is good, and regard all things as
mediate ends, by which you may arrive at the ultimate end in continually
inquiring, For what end?
XV.
Concerning
the Animus and the Rational Mind
[Mens].
(289.) There is nothing
more difficult in the science of rational psychology than clearly to
understand, and when understood clearly to set forth, what is properly the
animus and what is properly the mind \mens\ ; for the several things
which are put into aCtion in our inner sensories appear like a little chaos
whose surface even we cannot distinctly see, still less its parts, one of which
adheres to another as in a chain ; it may be in some measure compared with
the animalcule, which we can hardly reach with the aid of the microscope, from
whose motion alone we understand that it is something living, nor do we doubt
but that its little viscera are distinctly produced and separate, and that it
enjoys a brain, medulla spinalis, lungs, stomach, intestines, muscles, and
sensory organs, since the eye has deteCted this in similar animalcules by the
aid of the optic art. But where the sight hardly touches the surface it is very
difficult to divine the interior and more hidden things ; and such is the case
with our inner sensory. We are able by reflection to discover that we perceive,
understand, think, choose, desire, will, are determined to aCt, and that these
are companies of loves, cupidities, desires, pleasures, ends. Since these are
all of one sensory, and appear as though continuous and united, it is only with
the greatest difficulty that they can be separately evolved, and that the ideas
of our own intellect may be distinctly presented to the intellect of another.
For who can see in the dark the art of the
THE ANIMUS AND THE
RATIONAL MIND. 177 painter or the beauty of the figure ? and who will properly perceive
it even if the painter in the dark explains the figures by his words ?
Therefore we must await the rising of the sun and of light, in order that all
things may be laid open as it were to the life.
(290.) And this is the
reason why we are ignorant as to what the mind is and what the animus. It was
believed by the ancients who were not philosophers, that the animus was the
same as our soul, wherefore also they said that the animus is immortal; but the
philosophers distinguished between the animus and the mind [mens], and
they acknowledged a certain superior animus which they called the mind [mens\.
Some even make mention of a certain superior and purer mind* \mens\ also
in us ; but in order to discover what the one and what the other is, what is
their distinction and what their conjunction, we ought ourselves by some
untiring reflection and intellectual observation to go into the several
operations, and indeed in their order, one after the other, and then after having
performed this labour we ought often to go over the parts again, and so examine
by what chain they are held together. For our mind is not constituted
differently from the internal form itself of the body, which enables us to know
what it is only through operations, only by our anatomically laying bare one
part after another and exploring and inspecting it within. Such an anatomy of
the mind is also required : thus we are to be taught what we are from
ourselves, and the mind is to be investigated by the mind ; for so
scientifically does it ad from itself that all the philosophical sciences have
gathered hardly more than the least part of a knowledge of it. But let us pass
on and inquire, What is the animus, and what is the mind ?
(291.) That the animus is
not the soul, and is not the same as the rational mind, is most evident from
the faCt
See
Appendix II. [ Tr. that all those affections and
cupidities which are purely animal are ascribed to it, as anger, venereal love,
envy, and others, which are not peculiar to the human race, but belong as well
to the brute animals. The animus is never called rational, like the mind ; all
the cupidities of the animus die with us ; for after death anger, lust,
haughtiness, pride, fear, revenge, and other similar affeCtions do not remain,
and without these the animus could not live, because it is of these that it
consists. Thus the animus is purely animal, and as it were an inferior or
irrational mind ; for while the animus is affeCted and desires, it is not that
which thinks, since it is beneath that animus, so to speak, which thinks and is
called rational. Wherefore the cupidities of our animus are to be restrained by
a certain higher or rational mind, and to be moderated according to the decision
of the judgment of the mind. Moreover, the soul and its every affeCtion is
inscribed on the countenance itself, on the tone, the voice, the aCtion, that
is to say, on the body ; and at the same time the animus has been inscribed on
every thing flowing in ; wherefore the animus is so close to the body that it
is in it, and shows itself corporeally, as in anger, revenge, haughtiness,
hatred, love, and the rest. Moreover, what we think does not shine forth from
the face unless the thought be conjoined with the affeCtion of the animus,
except a slight twinkling in the eyes if they are unable to simulate ; from
which it clearly appears that the rational mind is most distinCt from the
animus, but nevertheless so conjoined with it that we may call our rational mind
the superior animus, and the animus the lower mind; but let us take care lest
we confound the ideas through similitude of words.
(292.) But it is asked,
What is the animus? If we call the animus the inferior mind, still by this
denomination we do not understand what the animus is so long as what the mind
is is unknown to us. Therefore we are not thus helped to know what the animus
is. If we define the animus as the beginning of the mutations of our body,
we acknowledge indeed that there is a beginning, for nothing ought to flow
forth except from its beginning; but what the animus is is still unknown, for
there are infinite beginnings of mutations; and each would have to be explained
as to what it is, in order that we might affirm or deny that the animus is such
a beginning.
(293.) If the animus is
described as being the form of the material ideas of our common sensory,
it will be necessary to explain what form is, what material ideas are, and how
their forms are to be conceived of, and lastly what this common sensory is to
which is ascribed the form of ideas. If the animus is called the universal
affection of the sensory, or if we say that the affections taken
together constitute the animus, nevertheless the question arises, What is
it; where is it ; of what kind is it ? For the animus is still to be affected;
and not the universal affection. So whichever way we turn, our search still
ends in some hidden quality. Thence it results that the animus is believed to
be in some crypt of the brain, like the regulus of the eye ; or that it is a
quality which is without a subject, and that the quality may be some such
principle or beginning as that of the mutations of the body.
(294.) But in order that
we may understand what the animus is, we must at least approach its source ;
for it is not to be doubted that the brain receives all the senses of the
external organs, such as touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight ; for from
these several organs the nerves go out, which reach to and enter the medulla
oblongata and the brain itself; and that the brain receives the inflowing
senses is shown by infinite other phenomena, since when the brain is
obstructed, or a nerve entering the brain is obstructed, all sensation perishes
at once. Therefore by common consent the brain is called the common sensory.
(295.) This also is an
admitted truth \constans veritas}, that every nerve is divided into
fibres and fibrils, and that each fibre has its own origin. If we follow the
fibre to its origin we see manifestly that it terminates in a certain lit- tie
head or small globule which is called the cortical gland ; this can even be
seen by the aid of the microscope. Therefore since the sensations which run to
the brain cannot subsist midway, but must by all means strive onward to their
origins or beginnings, there ought to be in these beginnings that which feels
and receives the sense. These beginnings are as many as there are fibres ; for
such is their abundance and luxuriance that they constitute the whole covering
of the mass of the brain and also occupy its interior. It follows that these
glandules taken together are that which is called the common sensory. If we
examine this cortex or this substance we perceive that all its parts or all its
glandules are together disposed into a certain form which is most perfect, and
which we call the spiral; and also that these glandules are distinguished from
one another, co-ordinated and subordinated ; in a word, that these glandules,
which are so many little sensories, constitute the form of the particulars.
This much being premised, we may see what the animus is. This cortical brain or
common sensory receives, as it is said, all the external sensations, but it
also perceives all the single differences which are impressed on the fibres and
nipples of the organs. This sensation cannot be called the animus. This is the
bare perception of sensations, or of the modes with their differences and
discriminations. It is therefore the common sensory which feels and perceives,
but not the animus. But still every simple or compound sensation is a certain
form, consisting it may be of the discriminations of the slightest touches and
forces ; such is the sensation of taste, such the smell, such the hearing whose
forms are distinctly perceived both in song and in the single word which is
thence called the articulated sound ; such is the sensation of sight, for every
object or every image is formed from the differences of light and shade,
especially the composed image or the object in its totality. This form, while
it appeals to the common sensory or cortical
THE ANIMUS AND THE
RATIONAL MIND. l8l brain, is not perceived simply as sensation, that is, as being sweet,
bitter, pleasant, beautiful, harmonious or inharmonious, but it also
exhilarates and gladdens the brain, or saddens the animus, exaCtly according to
the quality, the perfection and imperfection of its form. This is called the
brain’s animus which is said to be affeCted ; thus the animus is not separated
from the common sensory ; and so far as it is the sensory which is affeCted,
this itself is, as regards the affeCtion, the animus ; so the perception is a
distinCt thing from the affeCtion ; and yet both are of the brain.
(296.) Thus it is the
common sensory which is affeCted pleasantly or unpleasantly, delightfully or
undelightfully; whence the sense, and thus the joy, the sadness, or any other
passion which is ascribed to the animus alone. Properly it is the joy or the
sadness itself which flows forth from that grace or that harmony or disharmony
of modes in those things which are felt and perceived, which is called the
external affeCtion of the animus ; but there is also an internal affeCtion. The
animus is also the principle or source of all the changes of its body; for the
affeCtion itself of the sensory or of the single cortical substance is
transfused into the containing fibres, and by those into the whole body which
is formed only of fibres ; thus passion is ascribed to the mind, that is,
affeCtion ; as also aCtion, that is, the beginning or source of aCtions.
(297.) But because the
mind of one is not similar to the mind of another, but what affeCts one
pleasantly affeCts another unpleasantly, and by the same harmony of sound or
form of vision one is made happy, another made sad, it follows that the state
of one sensory is different from that of another ; for the affeCtion is
according to the state of the sensory. For the same operation upon two
dissimilar subjeds varies according to the state of the recipient or of him
who is affeCted ; and because the animus is rejoiced, saddened, desires, is
made angry, undertakes to do, and thus has life in it, it must be that in the
common sensory and in the particular little sensories there is that which
lives; hence we must inquire whence derives the animus this its essence and its
life.
(298.) That we may still
better understand what the animus is let us speak by examples. What in the
taste is saporiferous, this is perceived in the common sensory as something
sweet, something bitter, or acid ; but this perception does not go farther,
and even the pleasure also is in the same sense as though in a certain common
taste ; but still an appetite is thence excited, and indeed for those things
which agree with the state of the body; as in those brutes which from taste
alone seek for those things agreeing with their nature; and this faculty of the
appetite is what belongs to the animus.
Similarly in the sense of
smell. In the sounds of hearing [this appears] still more evidently ; the
modulations of the song and the particular differences of the sounds are
perceived by the common sensory, likewise also harmony itself, and grace, of
which there is as it were a common sensation ; but the hilarity and joy, and
the affections thence arising of every love, is something belonging to the
animus. Likewise in the objects of sight, the smiling grassplots of the garden,
with the particular flowers, roses, and orchards, are perceived by the eye and
the common sensory, also the beauty resulting from the orderly arrangement of
the plants : but the inmost delights thence arising, love from the view of the
beautiful; and revenge, fear, anger, from the sight of an enemy ; pity at the
sight of the miserable,—these are of the animus, which is carried away into
various affections thence arising, and from these into desires which are
communicated to the body.
From these things we see
how difficult it is to perceive distinctly what the animus is, and what
perception, for there is as it were a distinCt nature to each ; the differences
of perception are as many as appear in the sensations, which are innumerable.
But the kinds of animus [aninti} are as many as are the affeCtions, each
of which carries its own special and particular differences. From the
comparison itself it may be understood that there is in the animus a certain
life which is communicated to the perception of sensation or the sensory,
without which there would be no sensations ; thus the animus is the life of
the sensations.
(299.) But the animus
lives not from itself but from the very soul, which alone lives, and by which
all remaining things in the body live. The animus, however, cannot live in
the same manner as the soul, for it is far removed therefrom, and it is a more
imperfect and composed form, which is that of the common sensory from whose
form the animus derives its being called a form ; therefore we must now
inquire, What is that mind which is the form of forms, and may be called the
higher animus ?
(300.) It is equally
difficult to understand what the mind is, although nothing is more familiar in
common talk, and that this word is always appropriately inserted in
conversation is an indication that our rational mind knows exactly what it is,
but that we are ourselves ignorant.* We ought, however, to inquire regarding it
as we would ask of an anatomist, what is in the heart and arteries, when he
knows from the pulse that there is something from which the pulsation comes. If
it is not defined by the “form of forms” it would be better to say that “ the mind
is the mind,” or that there is something which may be expressed by form, by
which we mean a quality more hidden than the mind. But if we say that the mind
is the principle of all the mutations of the animus, we must explain Principle,
what it is, where it is, of what nature ; for principle is a general word like
force and cause, which may be said to be in any thing. If the mind is said to
be the source of the rational affections, resulting from the harmonies of
intellectual or
♦ The author is understood to mean
here that our instinctive knowledge of the mind enables us to use the term
correctly, while we remain intellectually ignorant of what, in all its
particulars, the term implies. [ Tr.
immaterial ideas, as the
animus results from ideas not immaterial, something appears to be expressed, by
which we approach more nearly to a knowledge of the mind ; but that it may be
perceived the source itself must be inquired into, [tracing it] from its
streams and the streams from those things thence derived which either present
themselves before the senses as effects, or have some analogy with sensible
things.
(301.) To explore,
therefore, what the mind or the superior animus is, we must proceed in the
same way as above in the exploration concerning the animus, that organic
substance itself; or we must seek out that internal sensory where the mind as
it were resides. For that the mind is in the brain is beyond the possibility of
a doubt; the state of the mind is the state of the brain ; they are so far
united that whenever the one is injured, languishes, and seems about to die,
the other is equally so. It is to be borne in mind that the senses of the
external organs through the containing fibres flash even to their beginnings
or to the cortical glandules, and that in these surely ought to reside that
principle which is in the senses. This glandule has been frequently shown above
to be the brain in its least effigy, and there is in it a medullary and
cortical substance similar and analogous to that which is seen in the common
brain ; some such little body therefore we have called the internal sensory,
and we have observed that these little sensories taken together constitute the
common sensory ; if accordingly there is a similar analogous cortical substance
in each such little sensory, it follows that that substance taken together is
the particular or internal sensory itself, and that its each least cortical
part is an intelleftory in which, we will suppose, is the pure intellect,
concerning which hereafter.
From this idea, by mere
comparison and analogy, it may be understood what and of what kind is the superior
animus or the mind ; but let us institute the comparative analogy itself.
Especially may the
sensations of sight be compared with the ideas of imagination or of thought ;
for they mutually correspond, and by cultivation the images pass over into
similar ideas ; thus in the place of the images of the sight are substituted
intellectual ideas, and with these we may proceed in the same manner as with
the sensations above for which we investigated the origin of the animus: so we
shall find the mind itself.
(302.) On the internal
sensory itself are impressed as many ideas (as it were immaterial images, if we
may use so crude a term) as there are images of the memory and the imagination
which are formed and drawn out by the changes of the state of the sensory ;
these immaterial or rational ideas are perceived in the pure intellect or in
that most simple or simple cortex, in the same way as the images of the sight are
perceived in the common or external sensory ; consequently the ideas
themselves are like so many internal sensations with their differences; the
ideas thus understood constitute the mind, but only its intelled: or its
thought. That good and loveable affeCtion which results from the harmony of
these ideas or from the thought is that which is said to flow from the mind ;
consequently that which is affeCted is the mind, and the mind is that life
itself which is in the animus, therefore the principle or beginning of its
mutations.
(303.) But still we are
ignorant as to what the mind is ; for when it is said to be life and a
principle, it is rationally conceived as being a certain quality flowing from
the form of its intelleCtory when affeCted ; and thus as nothing [milla]
without its organic substance. But we may not stop here ; let us go farther.
This intelleCtory or purest cortical substance of the internal sensory can by
no means exist and subsist of itself. This ought to consist of substances still
more simple, that is, of the most simple of its realm. These most simple
substances are what we call the soul \animd\, in which there is life,
and which is the mind itself of its intelleCtory, and consequently the life of
the mind itself, which nevertheless lies so internally hidden or dwells so
deeply within that it is distant from the animus by several degrees of
perfection. From the description of the soul we understand this mind itself,
what it is, what its quality is, or what its form, and what its principle is.
(304.) There are therefore
a superior mind and an inferior mind (or mind properly so called), which reign
in the animated body and which mutually communicate their operations. The mind
itself properly so called is spiritual; but the animus is purely natural, and
may be called corporeal so far as it is immediately affeCted by the harmonies
of the senses of the body and flows immediately into the features of the body
and into the forms of the actions ; this therefore is the reason why some of
the ancients called the animus immortal, understanding by this the mind, as
may be seen from the proper interpretation of their language.
(305.) In order,
therefore, that the mind properly so .called may communicate with the animus
and by the animus with the body, there intervenes a certain mind called the
rational, which is our proper mind, which is affeCted, desires, wishes, and at
length determines its desires into aCts. Very many have believed that this
rational mind is that superior, and indeed supreme, mind which lives in us, and
this latter they seem to confound with thought. But that the case is otherwise
plainly appears from those particulars of which we have already treated, and
from others which are to follow. For the rational mind itself is not able to
derive its essence and its life from itself, but through culture, knowledges,
and arts; and in the course of time it becomes such that it can possess more in
itself than all the sciences in the universe can ever exhaust. These things it
does not derive from that culture and experience, nor can it derive them from
itself; there must be certainly a superior mind which flows in, which is pure
and spiritual, and possesses in itself all that nature which we ourselves
admire as the superior in
that mind, and
from which we draw forth only a few drops that we may conceive and put forth
our theoretical and psychological sciences.
(306.) But
this mind which is called the rational is not properly the mind, for it is
intermediate between the mind and the animus and participates of both, and thus
is born of both. For a spiritual mind flows into it from above, and a natural
mind or the animus from below, which is the reason why it is called rational;
for that it may be rational it ought to participate in both the natural and the
spiritual. Thus the more it communicates with the spiritual mind the more
eminently rational or the more and more spiritual this mind becomes; but the
more it derives from the animus or natural mind the less rational or more
corporeal it is. Accordingly the superior mind and the animus meet, and,
conjoined in the internal sensory, they put forth their common progeny.
This also
appears from the various affections ; for while the rational mind is excited by
the animus, as by anger, revenge, illicit love, and other affeCtions, it does
not immediately come down to take part, but it is withheld by a certain higher
and purer mind ; and so it is [reluCtantly] led away by the animus into either
commanding those things which are opposed to it or favouring them with its
assent. This deliberation and pondering could never exist unless the rational
mind were constituted in the midst between two loves which sometimes oppose. It
is therefore like the beam of the scales turning whichever way the greater
weight draws it. To this mind may be ascribed intellect, that is, thought, also
judgment, choice, and will; but intellect cannot otherwise be ascribed to the
mind than perception of sensations to the animus: it may be that that mind is
the life itself of the intellect, or that thought could not exist and subsist
without its mind, that is, without its loves and desires which not only excite
but vivify its intellect. The mind is therefore the life of the thoughts, as
the animus is the life of the sensations.
XVI.
Concerning the Formation and the Affections
of the Rational Mind.
(307.) We have
treated of the affections of the animus ; and before treating of the affeCtions
of the rational mind which is as it were midway and like a centre of influx, we
ought to treat of the affeCtions or loves of the pure or superior mind. But to
treat at once of the loves of the supreme mind would be to fly from the lowest
to the highest, and from sensible things to those which do not come under our
intellectual comprehension and which do not admit of being described by
adequate terms ; but those things which are met with in the rational mind fall
under the comprehension of the intellect because they are ours; these also
would by no means come under the comprehension of our intellect unless there
were a purer intellect or a sublimer mind which flowed in, and from which we
were able to view those things which are in the rational mind as if beneath.
(308.) But
since it has been said above that the rational mind is intermediate between
the pure mind or that of the soul and the impure inferior mind or that of the
body, that is, the animus, it seems to follow that the rational mind possesses
no affeCtion proper to itself or of itself; for it is the centre of influxes or
that in which are concentrated two essences ; it cannot be said to be other
than the common essence of the two, or one nature composed of both ; this is
also most true ; but this composition or mixture is an essence by itself whose
nature differs from both according to the mixture ; but whether and in what sense it can be called an
essence proper—this remains to be seen hereafter. Some preliminary
consideration is, however, necessary here.
(309.) This is
sufficiently clear from experience and from reflection, that our rational mind
desires or is possessed of desires. Desires cannot exist without affeCtions or
loves ; for what we desire this we love, and what we love we desire according
to the degree of the love. These desires in the rational mind are called
cupidities in the animus, which cannot be given without bodily affeCtions or
loves. This also is clear, that we are able to choose that which is best and to
rejeCt the bad, or that our rational mind is able to judge freely and to aCt in
accordance with its judgments. If the loves themselves did not belong to the
rational mind, but only flowed in from elsewhere and forced this mind to
judging and to aCting, then nothing of its own and therefore nothing free could
be predicated of the mind. But this free choice itself demonstrates that the
rational mind is intermediate between the loves which flow in, and is the
umpire in the election of the best. This also is clear, that there would be no
will unless there belonged to the mind some affeCtions, one of which it might
will rather than another, but there would be either cupidity or instind in the
place of will, as in brute animals. For all that is cupidity which is from the
animus, and all that is instinCt which flows down from the superior mind.
(310.) These
things clearly indicate that those loves which are insinuated into the rational
mind are so united that they are distind as to essence and nature from the
loves of the superior mind and from those of the animus, and thus that they
constitute a certain proper, as it were, separate mind, but still such an one
that as it exists from both so it subsists through both, and depends upon both,
not indeed equally but just as it bends and inclines itself more to the one
than to the other. To the aforesaid arguments this also may be added, that we
never could be blamed for any fault or crime if there were no love existing in
the mind as proper to it or as most emphatically our own. For we acknowledge
nothing as our own and properly pertaining to us except what exists in our
rational mind, for that mind is the most verily mine \ipsissimum meuin]
; other things are mine as far as that mind calls them its own ; nor does it
consider them otherwise than as its own instruments, by which it is able to be
what it is and to do as it wills ; which is also the reason why we say that any
one is what lie is according to the state of his mind ; the weak and dull and
impotent of mind we hardly call a man ; but the most intelligent and wise we
call the true man and divine; thus the proprium of all that is in him is of the
mind.
(311.) But if
we regard the matter more deeply and attempt to explore what is proper to the
rational mind and what is not (for what pertains to the mind and is in it,this
is said to be proper to it, but still it is not therefore truly proper as
sight is to the eye, which is truly proper to the internal sensory, since this
sees without the eyes while the eye does not see without the internal sensory),
striftly speaking, I see nothing as proper to this whole internal sensory or
human intelleftory except that its mind may bend or turn itself to the superior
mind, or that of the soul, and admit its loves that they may flow in, or
receive them, in what manner shall be told elsewhere ; or else to the lower
mind or that of the body, that is, of the animus, and permit its loves to flow
in, or receive them ; all other things whatever are not proper [to this
intelleftory] except as by flowing in in this way. For the rational mind is as
the standard which holds the balance ; in the human body there is nothing
except soul and body, or nothing except the spiritual and the natural ; the
other things which are intermediate participate of both, and so far as they
participate they, like the scales, depend upon both. That therefore each may be
held in equilibrium the rational mind is provided to be the moderator and
governor, and thus in this point solely active, but in others passive. It is
commonly received as a truth, because common experience teaches it to
everyone, that so far as our rational mind admits loves which flow in from the
body and its blood, or from the world through the gates of the senses, and
applies itself to these, giving and surrendering itself to them, so far it is
removed from the loves of the superior mind or from spiritual loves; and so
far as it removes itself from the loves of the body and the blandishments of
the world, so far it admits the loves of the superior or spiritual mind ; the
spiritual is as it were suffocated by the natural, and the nat-' ural is
exterminated by the spiritual. Thus it appears that there is an internal man
which fights with a certain external man, and the mind itself perceives the
battle, and either gives up, conquered, or else carries off the victory.
(313.) Since,
therefore, the loves of the superior mind and the loves of the animus, of
themselves and freely, flow into and flow together in the rational mind, and
since it is the property of this latter only to bend itself in one direction or
the other, we see how that the other things which are in the rational or the
properly human mind flow thence ; so that it may be said of them that they are
proper to it ; for whatever things flow from that which is proper or from the
will as necessarily constitutive, these are also proper and derive their name and
power from their source. But let us proceed in order, and by means of examples.
(i.) The first
love, will, and as it were desire, of the pure mind or soul is that of
associating to itself a lower mind or animus, which it produces or creates from
its own essence and into which it inspires life ; that is, the soul forms, and
indeed out of its own essences, the pure intelleCtory, whose mind is natural ;
this mind is in the pure intelleCtory and in each one most particularly; the
common essence and life of these particulars is called the animus, in which,
therefore, there is only the natural and the bodily but not the spiritual,
although it descends from the spiritual and is created from it. But this love
is not yet that of the rational mind, but that of the pure or spiritual mind.
(ii.) The
spiritual mind, already associated with the natural mind, now loves and desires
nothing except what is common to both. The spiritual mind loves its own natural
mind, and the natural mind respefls and venerates its own spiritual mind, and
yearns with the highest delights that it may depend upon this and may be
subject to this. Hence now flows the
first love common to both, namely, to form the organs and instruments by which
it may so aft and operate ; as love and desire give and take in common, these
organs are formed most conveniently for the nature and the love of each; for
either mind regards those ends only, and because these cannot be attained
except by organs and instrumental means, hence these instrumental means are formed
with a view to every end common to both ; thence arises that corporeal machine
which is merely organic, exaftly according to the image of the operation of
either mind. But neither is this yet the love of the rational mind.
(iii.) This
delicate body being formed and put forth from the maternal egg or womb, at once
there succeeds or is born, as it were, or unfolded from the former, another
love, which is the love that it may become a man or that it may be furnished
with a certain proper mind which may be called rational; for man derives his
quality' of manhood from his rational mind, since such as that mind is, such is
the man. Then the pure mind or soul does its part, and the mind of the pure
intelleflory does its own, that is, the spiritual mind and the natural mind;
and because each pursues a common cause and desires to pour into this mind its
essence, nature, and life, it follows that this mind is called rational ; for
the rational signifies the spiritual and the natural together or mutually participating.
(iv.) He who
loves an end loves also the means con- ’ducing to that end. Each mind provides
the means when it shapes the organs whereby to attain its end. Therefore common
to both is the first mediate love or love of the means, which is that the organs
may perceive, as for instance that the ear may hear and the eye see, or the
common sensory or the brain perceive those things which are heard and seen. For
this is the first way or first means of forming the rational mind and informing
it. Whatever there is harmonious this is pleasing, this gladdens the animus ;
and whatever is inharmonious is unpleasant and grieves the animus. So the
animus is now first excited, and so concurs as if of itself in producing this
rational mind. Still the rational mind is not as yet, any more than in its
cradle or in its first infancy, for it only begins to be in that it is able to
bend and turn its sensorial organs and to imbibe objects as they flow in. This
is the one thing, as said above, that is proper to it, and to which it is
incited by the mind, which is afledted pleasantly, joyously, and delightfully
by harmonies. Now its golden age begins, innocent, smiling, because the animus
has not yet risen up against the mind, but loves it inmostly; for the mind is
in the animus itself, and both conspire to one end, and the animus is thus far
ignorant of what the world outside is.
(v.) This
common love progresses always farther and grows in progressing ; already
material ideas are insinuated in the common sensory, and in the internal
sensory immaterial ideas or first principles of the intellect, not from any
proper love of the rational mind but from the love common to both the animus
and the spiritual mind ; for the rational mind itself is thus far ignorant
whence such love comes, as it flows in as much from the mind as from the
animus. The mind desires the end, the animus the eftedt, and it is ignorant of
the end of the soul, but it is excited by the pleasure which flows from the
harmony of the internal and external sensations. The rational mind itself does
not as yet contribute anything more from itself than that it applies itself,
turns and attends to what flows in from both sources; for when it attends, its
attention only is required.
(vi.) The
ideas of the memory and the imagination being thus increased, man begins to
understand or to perceive something beyond, or to draw some essence or higher
sense from words, which are all material ideas. When the intellect begins to
form it also thinks. And thus there is further progress and at once from the
things of thought into the will, not indeed from any intellect but from the
love of a certain pleasure which is insinuated by the senses into the animus
and by the animus into this intellect.
(vii.) These
delights of the animus which are communicated to the rational mind appear as
though they were in the mind and were felt therein ; but they are outside of
this mind itself, for whatever appears delightful, pleasureable, and joyous to
the animus, appears and is called good in the rational mind, but contrary
things evil; the goods and evils themselves are all those objects of love, or
those things by which the animus is affected. Then the rational mind, curious
to know whether this be good or evil which appears pleasant and loveable, is
therefore carried on, by a kind of desire, to wishing to find out whether it be
a true good or a false good, that is, an evil, as also whether it be a real
evil or an apparent evil. For the knowledge of the true signifies nothing in
itself without the good, since what is true ought to regard the good as its
subject. The rational mind does not stand still here, for it cannot be
persuaded whether a thing be truly good unless it finds out the subject of the
good, for there is no good without its subject. This subject at first appears,
but to know whether it be truly good it is necessary to inquire as to the
quality of this subject, what are its attributes, accidents, and adjuncts; and
at length, these being explored, it may be persuaded whether this good be truly
FORMATION OF
THE RATIONAL MIND. I95 good or not. Thus the rational mind proceeds in particulars that it
may explore the nature of things placed before it by which it seems to be
affected. Such appears to be the intellect of the rational mind, the which if
we inwardly examine we shall clearly perceive that all these [affections] are
not proper to the intellect, but that there flows in from above some love of
knowing the quality of all those things which flow in from beneath by way of
the senses and the animus; so that that superior mind may call our rational
mind into its service in order to inform itself of the things obvious to the
senses, lest by chance it be deceived by appearance ; for the superior mind
well knows how innumerable are the fallacies of things. This is the reason why
we are naturally carried away by a certain desire of knowing not only the
present but als.o future things, and not only what is apparent but also what is
hidden. For this curiosity is called inborn, and it is the first mover in the
perfecting of our intellect, or it is itself the love of communicating its
knowledge to that mind which is to be instructed. In these things that mind
does no other aCtion from itself except to turn its rational view to the higher
mind or to the soul. Other things spontaneously flow in, the very love exciting
the desire of knowing ; but from that moment in which the mind applies itself
all this intellect is predicated of the mind as belonging to it. Indeed the
faculty not only of perceiving but of thinking and judging becomes as it were
its own, because it is now acquired ; but while it is being acquired the mind
itself is as though passive, only turning itself to this or that side.
(viii.) In the
formation of the human intellect there occur four ages, hardly otherwise than
in the great world or the macrocosm ; the first or golden age is when the
animus is entirely subject to its mind, for then it cannot be called the animus
but the lower or natural mind ; the next or silver age is when the animus is
not subjeCt to the mind but reigns with that in equal right. The third
or brazen age is when the
animus begins to fight with its mind and endeavours to cast this down from her
throne ; the fourth or iron age is when the animus subjects to itself the
higher mind and makes it her handmaid. These things are perceived in our
rational mind from those very loves which rule and command ; if they are of the
body and of the animus, or of the world, it is a proof that the spiritual loves
are driven from their thrones and extinguished ; but when the spiritual loves
reign the bodily loves yield and as it were become cold, and the lusts of the
body are said to be dead. For so far as the things of the body live those of
the spirit vanish away, and vice versa.
(ix.) But a
state of integrity would be that wherein the spiritual loves alone reign ; then
there would not be any rational mind, but the spiritual mind alone, for there
would be no confluence of loves. Consequently in order to be corporeal we can
not easily subsist in that state; it would be superhuman and miraculous. But
still it is our better life when superior and inferior loves reign equally, and
the rational mind is elevated above its body, and is so instructed from itself
concerning what it encounters that it has need of no science as a teacher. We
are always inclining to lower things ; thus we are drawn away from this
equilibrium, that is, this rationality itself; but if we remained infants our
rational mind would be nothing, or, if something, still not rational, but
spiritual.
(314.) But let
us return to the affeCtions or the loves, and inquire whether there are any in
the rational mind which may be properly called its own. Yet we cannot make this
inquiry without first examining all those desires which appear to be in this
mind ; from these then we shall be able to form a conclusion.
The Loves and A\ffeftions of the Mind in general.
(315.) In our
rational mind loves perpetually reign, nor would there be any mind without loves, as
there would be no animus without affections. For the loves are of the mind as
affeCtions are of the animus. Those very objeCts with which the mind is
affeCted are called its loves. The rational mind also possesses intellect, and
the intellect is something separate from mind, just as sensation or perception
is separate from the animus ; but still there can be np intellect without mind,
that is, without objeCts which are loved, or without loves. If only we observe
the state of our mind, this appears clearly, that some love is excited by the
first apperception or intelleCtion. This love first excited is the first, the
last, the middle, the all, in the thought ; without the love the thought could
never exist. This also is known from the desires, from the will, from ends of
the mind ; unless there were love there would be no desire, for we desire what
we love. The love itself is in the will, which would become torpid or as
nothing without love. The end itself is that subjeCt or that objeCt of love ;
therefore the love is the first, the middle and the last in our rational mind.
But the loves are innumerable, and the very means of the ends are loves because
they are regarded as united with ends or as continued into them.
(316.) The
mind is therefore the soul itself, or the life itself, of the intellect. The
intellect may be compared with the body of that soul. Such is their conjunction
that if the mind or its loves recede the intellect is nothing, or like a
lifeless body. And the love without the intellect can be described as a soul without
a body. Therefore a certain love is in our rational mind before the intellect,
and the intellect is formed from the mind as a body from its soul, in which it
is first and last, or the whole.
(317.) But it
is asked whether these loves which are understood to be in the rational mind
are its own, or whether they come from elsewhere. They appear indeed as if they
were its own ; but lest we should be carried away by the appearance only we
ought to examine some of these loves, and afterwards the other affeCtions which
appear to be in the mind.
The love of
Understanding and of being Wise.
(318.) In the
earliest infancy there does not appear to be any love of being wise in our
rational mind ; the reason is that we are still unconscious of that love, or
[of knowing] by reflection upon phenomena what may be in them as a principle ;
then, too, because it is a certain universal love not yet limited or determined
to the love of a particular knowledge; that nevertheless this love is there we
may conclude as certain from the very effeCt of it, for without such a love we
should never be able to inform our mind or furnish it with any intellect, which
nevertheless is perpetual from a certain aCtive principle or love. What we
desire to see, to hear, to retain in memory, to imagine, to think, this in our
innocent state comes from an implanted love of understanding and being wise ;
those delights which are also in the senses themselves could not be delights
without this universal internal principle. But in this period of life the love
of understanding is quite general and undetermined, and so is the pure love of
being wise without any objeCt in which there is something loveable, on account
of which especially we desire intelligence. But in adult age we direCt this
universal love to a single kind of knowledge which we love more than others, as
to the art of war, nautical science, politics, mathematics, science of civil
law, theology, and so forth. As age still advances we direCt this love to some
species or part of a more universal science. In this state we love only the
knowledges which go to perfeCt this chosen one, and these so far as they have
an affinity with it. Hence it appears that there is some love in our mind which
is to become rational, and this from itself or naturally, which is first a
universal love of all, then in the course of time, a particular love. For if
there were not in infancy itself the universal love, we would be entirely
unable to furnish the mind with any intellect unless there were a special determination
to some particular knowledge. This may be
compared with
the appetite for eating. Before taste and relish there is in the embryo and infants
the love of eating, nor
is it affected with any taste until time has elapsed ; wherefore it is
nourished with milk which is almost tasteless ; but in the course of time the
appetite is awakened through the delights of taste. This love cannot be said to
be properly of the rational mind, because it is in us before the formation of
the intellect, and, the intellect being formed, it is not known to be in that
except by reflecting on its efifeCts. Therefore it is infused from the superior
mind and nourished by delights of the animus, and so excited [into
consciousness].
The love of Knowing Hidden Things, and Admiration.
(319.) That
there is an inborn love of being wise we perceive from the love familiar to
every one, that of knowing hidden things ; for this love it is which forms our
whole intellect. For every thing which has been impressed on the memory of the
infant and child were before that time hidden ; as soon as they are impressed
[the child] is seized with the desire of knowing what still lies hidden in that
which is known, that is, its qualities and many other things. This love carries
us into those sciences by which we are persuaded we shall arrive at the
knowledge of what is hidden ; the whole learned world is carried away into
physical experiments in order that from these we may know or penetrate into the
hidden things of nature. The ancient philosophers were all seized with this
love, but with them it was the love of penetrating into the hidden things of
nature a priori, or by principles and a rational philosophy; but those
of our day wish to penetrate a posteriori, or from experiment; they both
have the same love, for they concur in this end.
Who does not
desire to behold nature in her inmosts and unveiled ? Who does not desire to
know what the soul is, where it resides, what it will be after death, what is
the highest good? Who would not like to know the interior things of another’s
mind, the secrets of his companions, of society, of kingdoms ; who is not
delighted when he contemplates with the telescope the moon, a planet and its
satellites, while he wishes he might know whether there are inhabitants there,
and how in this great vortex they pursue their daily and annual motions? Who
does not love with the microscope to deteCt the least things in nature, and the
inseCts invisible to the eye, besides infinite other things ; all of which
indicates that there is implanted in the human mind such a love, which also is
the principle of becoming wise and the efficient cause of the formation of our
intellect. And because it is in us before this formation [of the intellect],
nor do we perceive that it is there except by judging from its effeCts, it
follows that it flows in from a certain higher mind in us to which it pertains
universally to know and understand all things, and to wish to communicate this
its own to some lower mind, by which it may make itself present to the body.
(320.)
Admiration is the affeCtion of every perfection relatively to its subject. For
we wonder at wisdom in a boy but not in an old man, at intellect in an insane
person, at something analogous to bravery in the brute animal. So long therefore
as we have no knowledge or only a slight knowledge of an objeCt, then we wonder
at its perfection however slight; thus we wonder at the wonderful things in
nature, which are infinite, at its hidden forms, and the like. Wherefore
children wonder at all things because to them they are hidden. Wherefore this
wonder coincides with the love of knowing hidden things ; for what we wonder at
is deeply imprinted on our memory. We wonder that nature is so admirable in her
kingdoms ; but if we knew what she herself is, and that she is most perfeCt,
and able only to produce such things as these, we would then cease to wonder.
We wonder at
the miracles of God and the proofs of His providence, because we do not
comprehend that He is infinite and His perfection infinite ; if we should perceive
this we would be amazed at nothing, but only venerate and adore, in thinking
that what we comprehend in mind are the least things and that there are
infinite things which surpass the intellect. But He is the most hidden and the
never-explorable to any mind, in order that He may be God, whom from the
universe and from the wonderful things of nature we may admire and adore. What
would God be if He were not inscrutable ?
The love of Foreknowing the Future,
(321.) The
love of foreknowing the future concurs, in the third place, with the love of
knowing hidden things; for we love to know the future because it is hidden, and
because we love we desire it; and the difference is only between the things
simultaneously hidden and those successively hidden ; for what are now present
are to be successively brought about. Therefore when we know these things we
conceive of them as present and now existing, for all past things were once
future ; therefore also this love declares that there is something implanted in
our mind which is the aCtive principle in the forming of our intellect. This
love also so reigns in every human mind that it is present in its every desire
of ends; for when we desire any end and some impossibilities stand in the way,
we desire at once to know the final event, whence comes hope ; wherefore in
every one in whom there is hope there is the love of the future which we desire
to know. As the result of this love of human minds, many arts have been thought
out, as physiognomy, geomancy, Pythagorean arithmetic, judiciary astrology; in
former times auspices, the consultations of oracles, divinations,
interpretations of dreams, and many other similar things. Even the innumerable
events of the past, as the fates and histories of kings and empires, do not so
delight the mind as does that one new thing which we desire to know. Such as
the love of self is so is the love of knowing one’s own happy destinies, which
even to children is most pleasurable; as the love of country is great, so great
is the delight of knowing of its future posperity. This love seems to be in the
mind, but still not proper to the mind, for the same reason given above
regarding the love of knowing hidden things ; for one and the same love is the
sign that there is such a knowledge in the soul, and that from this knowledge
come the presages of mind and the coming true of dreams.
The love of Truths and Principles,
(322.) The
intellect of our rational mind could not be informed and become intellect
without the love of truths, for it needs to have as many truths as ideas. From
these, analytically examined and compared, new truth arises, and from this and
others similar still further new truths, until at length we arrive at those
universal truths which belong to the soul and the pure intelleftory. The most
particular truths, and those which are first introduced, are those material
truths we imbibe by means of the senses, all of which the mind at first accepts
as they appear, as so many truths ; from these it arranges its rational
analysis, and forms its intelleft. As many conclusions as the mind forms,
therefore, so many principles it assumes, provided it has faith in the premises
and trusts in the correctness of its conclusions. These principles are the
very truths which are in the rational mind as though they were its own ; still
they cannot be called pure truths but rather probabilities, for they are
exceedingly inflated with hidden qualities, and viewed in themselves are
opinions and hypotheses, which the mind will perceive if it inwardly considers
them, and by comparing them with others draws any conclusion from them as true
from ex-
periment.
These assumed truths are acknowledged all the more as truths in the degree that
they are capable of being rendered more probable and likely, or so adorned and
veiled that their internal form does not appear ; for we judge very much from
the surface and external form regarding the internal, as we judge of the virtue
of a virgin from her beauty. That accordingly there is an inborn love of
establishing principles and acknowledging these as truths, or what is
equivalent, of forming the intellect, has been shown above. Here chiefly we
shall treat of the love of principles, thus regarded as truths [z/Z 'Veritates
spe6latorinn\.
(323.) That it
is natural to love truths may be proved from the order itself which is in the
forms and harmonies of nature, the truth itself in intellectual things corresponding
to order in natural things. And because order in itself, like harmony, affeCts
the common sensory pleasantly and the animus gladly, so do truths affeCt the
intellectual mind. Hence as order presupposes harmony, so does truth
presuppose some love or some good from which we may predicate its being truly
good or truly bad. It follows from common experience that human minds love
truths so far as these establish the idea of good ; for there are good things
which are good by nature, and those which are apparently good, and those which
are not good but bad, which nevertheless affeCt the mind as good. Thus one who
is desirous of revenge finds his delights and his good in cruelty itself, and
so long as he is carried away with this love, he loves all things which sustain
it, and hates every thing which opposes. He often understands the truths which
oppose such an animus, but he hates them, and also those who wish by means of
truths to influence his mind. He also who is avaricious and loners for the
goods of others often acknowledges the truths which show this to be contrary to
the order of nature, but he hates these very truths, and loves all those probabilities
which favour and foster his idea of good. Criminals often talk most wisely,
yea, even make harangues, and by a chain of truths condemn their very crimes,
while still in their own minds they hate these truths they are proclaiming.
Thus there are those who love truths and those who hold them in hatred, or love
those things which are contrary to the truth, for hatred is love of the contrary.
Likewise the rational mind loves truths from an innate love, without which it
would never be able to perfect its intelledl so as to be possessed of
judgment. But in place of truths it substitutes principles, which are so many
probabilities acknowledged as truths. To love these principles or these probabilities
is to exercise the same love as that by which truths are embraced. That this
ardour exists in the higher mind or the soul, all of whose ideas are truths
which the soul either loves or hates, appears from the effedt of a similar
love in the rational mind, and also from the origin of ambition and of anger,
which are so many heats and fires in the soul roused in defense of these
truths. For there are those who are by nature tenacious of opinion, even in
their childhood resembling old age; since the aged believe their principles to
be all truths. It is not so with youths who are of progressive intellect and
not lovers of self.
The love of Good and of Evil.
(324.) Between
the love of the true and the love of the good there is the difference as
between intelligence and wisdom, for truths are the objects of the intellect,
but goodnesses those of wisdom ; but no intellect is without wisdom because
there is none without the love of some good. Intellect is acquired through the
love of understanding truths ; wisdom is not acquired, because the good itself
is that beloved essence which flows in and insinuates itself of itself; but
the intellect is required in order that we may understand whether it be the
truly good or the apparently good, or that which is not good but only a false
good. The truly good is in itself good ; the apparently good is good in itself
so far as it so appears ; the false good is evil because contrary to the true
good. Thus the true and the good exist both united and separate, since we are
able to love the evil and to hate the good, and yet we are gifted with
intellect to be able to understand the true and the false, or to understand
that a a thing is not good although we undertake* it; this is called
intellective wisdom, scientific and external. Wisdom itself cannot exist
without being conjoined with love, and because all love is inborn, we cannot be
wise of ourselves, but from the influx of the love of the truly good, and in
order that this may flow in the liberty is given us of inclining our mind to
this or that side. Therefore verities constitute the intellect
which is greater in the degree that our principles approach the truths
themselves and free themselves from the shadow of probabilities. In order that
our rational mind may be as intelligent as possible, it is necessary that it
know universal truths just as the pure intelleCtory and the soul know these
from themselves, to whose perfections the rational mind strives to approximate.
But goodnesses
constitute wisdom. To love wisdom is to love the intelligence which
reveals the nature of goodnesses, and to love the truly good itself is to be
wise. Wherefore our mind always aspires to the highest good, about which there
is much dispute, since every one assumes the probable good to be the highest
good.
Science is not
intelligence nor wisdom, but is the mediate or instrumental cause of
intelligence ; wherefore all science is acquired either through one’s own
experience of the senses, or through the observation and exploration of one’s
own mind, or by the experience of others. Where there is natural intelligence
there is also science,
•We have preferred here the reading adimus as appears in the manuscript,
according to Tafel, although he substitutes odimus therefor. [7r.
for one presupposes
the other; but science does not then appear as anything contingent but as a
necessity, and because it is natural for it to know this. Science is chiefly
concerned with the objects of goodness.
Knowledge \cognitid\
on the other hand is the mediate cause whereby science is obtained, whence are
doctrines and instructions \disciplinae\.
(325.) The
rational mind never loves the good of itself, but judges concerning the evil
and the good ; and when it embraces one in preference to the other it is said to
love it,' because it admits the one and excludes the other. The mind admits
whatever is pleasant, delightful, soothing to the animus and to the senses, or
what constitutes the loves of its animus. It causes that these flow into the
mind; and when it is occupied with their ideas and expels the contrary, then
the mind is said to love because it calls this good ; still its loves are not
properly its own, but flow in. Likewise when it excludes the affeCtions of its
animus, and thus admits the higher loves, then it calls these goods, and is
said to love these because it is wholly occupied with their idea. Thus the
rational mind is possessed by inflowing loves, since it is lacking in its own
love, but they are called its own because they flow in and possess its idea.
Affirmative
and Negative.
(326.) That
the mind is able to affirm and deny clearly indicates that it is placed between
two loves which influence it in opposite direCtions, and that it is able to
choose the one and rejeCt the other, or that this [liberty] is the only thing
proper to the mind ; without this property the mind could not exist, still less
subsist. Throughout the whole body there is nothing else capable of affirming
and denying. Our animus cannot do this of itself, because it is affeCted
according to that harmony which is in an objeCt and agrees with its own nature.
The eye can neither affirm nor deny, but is affected by the harmony of objeCt,
and the mixture of colors, among which there is a natural order as in the
rainbow. The intelleCtory itself and the soul can not affirm or deny, but are
gratefully affeCted by those things which are perfeCt in themselves, and
unpleasantly by imperfect things, always however according to the nature of
the soul itself. Thus the soul can only love this and hate that, but to affirm
and to deny is not in its power, this faculty belonging solely of the rational
mind. The truths themselves of the soul are inborn ; but its state either loves
these truths in themselves or hates them, so that it is impossible to love now
what it before hated ; but that it assumes this state is possible only in this
life, and thus only by means of the rational mind, which is able to affirm and
deny and to choose the one rather than the other.
(327.) In
order, therefore, that there may be in the rational mind a free choice and a
will, and thus the faculty of affirming or denying, there are no loves given to
it as properly its own. For if it possessed its proper and natural loves, then
its affirmative and negative faculty would altogether cease. But that there
seem to be innate loves, such as the love of the honourable, the seeds of which
seem to be deposited in the mind, and that there are inclinations to this
love, this does not prove that these natural loves belong to the mind, but that
the mind possesses a disposition only to receive these loves rather than
others, to more easily change its states in this direction than otherwise, or
to be more easily in these ideas than in others; in a word, that it wishes
rather to admit these loves than others. This is, nevertheless, not a proof that love is
inborn and proper to the mind itself.
Conscience.
(328.) A good conscience or a bad conscience seems to be a
proper affection of the rational mind, but whether it be so will appear from an
examination into its origin. Conscience itself depends primarily on the
determination of the truly good. Whatever we believe to be the truly good when
we nevertheless a<St in a manner contrary to it excites a bad conscience,
while the opposite course produces a good conscience. Thus our conscience
depends upon our principles, which we believe to be so many verities; and so
the good conscience of one person may be the bad conscience of another, from
one and the same cause. The good conscience of the criminal is the bad
conscience of the honourable man.
> The Devil afts against his conscience if he does not do
evil, although he knows that this is contrary to spiritual truths. The
conscience very plainly declares that our rational mind is midway between the
higher and lower loves. A good conscience corresponds to gladness in the
animus, and a bad conscience to sadness ; wherefore also gladness and sadness
flow by correspondence into the mind and excite its conscience. The states of
the soul, also, and its loves contribute much to the state of conscience in
the rational mind. The soul which loves truths, when its love reigns in the
rational mind, is secretly pained by those things which oppose this love ; that
is, it is a true conscience. But if the soul hates spiritual truths and becomes
diabolical, then the mind is distressed by these truly good things themselves
when it is led by them ; therefore conscience comes from the animus and the
superior mind, and is such that hardly any one may know its quality, since in
order that any one may judg£ of the truth of one’s conscience, he ought indeed
to know what the truly good is, of what quality is the person’s mind and his
animus ; which knowledge belongs to God alone. The conscience itself judges
every one.
The Highest Good and Highest Truth.
(329.) This is
undoubted, that there is a good in itself and a principle of this good, that it
is principally good itself and love itself. And if there is a good in itself it
is necessary that all those things which flow from that good and which tend
toward that good be good in themselves. But whatever things tend out of the
course and still more what are contrary to this good and tend not toward it,
these are evil in themselves and in so far evil as they are removed from that
good. Hence it is manifest that nothing but God alone can be the good itself,
who is the fount of every good, that is, of every perfeCt thing. But things
evil and imperfect may appear in our minds as good and perfect, and thus
persuade us to embrace them. Still in the purer and more elevated mind this is
not why we embrace things which we acknowledge to be evil, but evil things are
embraced because they are soothing and agreeable to the state of our mind ;
then also they are sometimes called necessary evils.
From this it
now appears that every one embraces and calls that the highest good which
agrees with the state of his mind. Thus to the revengeful vengeance is the
highest good, to the miser wealth, and so with other lusts. In a word, each one
places the highest good in a good conscience ; but it is to be observed of what
sort the good is, whether the truly good or the falsely good. Thus universal
truths are to be investigated and our minds to be instructed by these.
(330.) The
highest good presupposes also a highest truth, and whatever affirms this
highest good is itself the highest truth, and other things are false. But true
things are also evil, hence the highest truth means that which expresses the
nature itself of anything, what it is in itself, thus both the nature of the
good and of the evil.
(331.) The
good in the mind signifies the perfeCt in nature, wherefore these mutually
correspond. Perfections themselves are superior and inferior; thus the highest
good differs in itself or is divided according to the subjects themselves
which admit that good. The highest good of the body is the pleasure which most
affeCts the body. The highest good of the animus is that love which most
affeCts it. These goods are in themselves supremely good in respeCt to the state
of body and of the animus, which receive and are affeCted by them. Similar is
the case with the mind, the soul, and the pure intelleCtory. The highest good
of the rational mind is that which it most joyfully admits and chiefly
indulges, or to which its ideas or changes of state incline. All these things
are highest goods in themselves so far as they tend to the highest good in
itself and regard this, that is, so far as they are in connection, or united by
love,with the highest good.
(332.) Every
faculty and mind, whether superior, inferior, or mediate, aspires to the
highest good from an implanted love; nevertheless it can never arrive at that
degree of good in which is the superior mind, since there is something of the
infinite in the superior mind to which the inferior mind can never attain
unless by being itself dissolved or destroyed. The highest of the lower mind
can hardly be called the least of the higher mind. We can thus see that our
rational mind is unable to think what will be the happiness or the unhappiness
of its soul; and if it cannot think this, neither can it express it. The same
is true of the highest truths. Our mind may progress indefinitely and diffuse
its intellect, and yet never arrive at pure truth such as is in the soul,
unless it be dissolved and destroyed. Thus we cannot penetrate into the nature
of the pure intelligence or the intelligence of the soul. A limit is
accordingly placed to the advancement of our intellect, or beyond which it
cannot go ; but still there is given to it a field that it may be extended
indefinitely, and the love to so extend itself is naturally in it. But if it
wishes to be elevated above itself or to attain to things higher than itself,
then it either perishes and is dissolved or else it is reduced into such a
state that it can never again emulate such a condition, and so it sins against
the love and the law of order. Still such a love as this is innate in our
minds, and we receive it as it were hereditarily from Adam. In a word, All
that which is good and true in itself is Divine ; all that which is evil and
false in itself is diabolical; all that which is good and true in appearance
and semblance is human; thus the just, the sincere, the honourable, virtue,
etc., etc.
The love of
Virtues and of Vices; the Honourable; the Decorous.
(333-) The
honourable is the common quality of all virtues, for all the virtues taken
together constitute the honourable. Thus the honourable is the form whose essential
determinations are the virtues in particular. Each virtue is a form whose
essential determinations are the parts of that virtue. But decorum is the
external form of the virtues; for that the virtues may appear,an external is
required from which we may judge regarding the honourable in it and its parts.
This is why the decorous can be varied in so many ways. Every form may be
varied externally in a thousand ways, and also the states of the internal form
may be varied, the external form remaining. This is our political art, to
persuade regarding internal things those minds which judge from external
things.
(334.) The
dishonourable, on the contrary, is a form whose essential determinations are
vices; and every vice is a form whose essential determinations are parts of
that vice. The indecorous is the external form, for every internal form has
its external form, which is called the figure and which corresponds naturally
to the internal form.
(335-) There
is nothing which is a virtue in itself except the good in itself. But in order
that virtue may exist and pass for such there must precede an affirmative and
negative, a rational intuition that the good is to be chosen ; there must be a
will and an end which we regard as good. These faculties are not formed except
in the rational mind ; hence no moral virtue proceeds from other than the
rational mind. If an inanimate machine should extend money to some poor person
it could not be called a virtue ; if any one benefits another without knowing
what he does, or from an opposite intention, or of necessity, this is not called
a virtue. If an insane man renders service to society, this is not a virtue,
but a good. Therefore whatever is natural and necessary loses the name of virtue.
Thus all virtues are of the mind only. Likewise in respedt to vices. There is
no vice which in itself is vice ; only the evil is evil in itself; the mind
itself is what causes that the morally vicious exists. Thus all morality, like
all vice, is of the rational mind alone.
(336.) What
accordingly the virtues are and what are vices I have set forth above, when
treating of the affections of the animus, for instance, of ambition, love of
self, love of country, revenge, anger, avarice, and other traits. All these are
either goods or evils in themselves ; but still they are not called virtues or
vices except so far as they proceed from the rational mind. Accordingly as the
mind is the more instructed and the intelledh greater the greater is the virtue
or the vice which flows thence. Thus the love of self above all others is an
evil in itself, and if such be in the mind it is a vice ; while the love of the
many or of society above self is good in itself, but is not called a virtue
except in the rational mind. Virtue accordingly depends upon the state of the
rational mind, so far as this regards the good which is the real good, or the
not truly good which is the evil. When the mind does not know whether it be the
truly good or the truly evil it is held in suspense and its conscience is said
to be doubtful. In this state it ought to do nothing, because such adtion would
be neither good nor bad, and thus not rational, but brutal and irrational, or
like that of an inanimate machine. Therefore as the mind judges concerning
goods so it judges concerning virtues and vices.
. (337.) It is
therefore the rational mind which qualifies all those affections which are
ascribed to the animus and' to: the body; these are all what they are by virtue
of: their’proceeding from' the rational mind. Wherefore, it-is
unnecessary to treat of them particularly here, since they ail insinuate
themselves into the loves and goods of the [rational] mind, and this by its
will determines them into aCt. This is the reason why nothing which flows into
the rational mind but only that which flows from it can be called a virtue or a
vice; and the greater a virtue is the more does that which flows in under the
form of good persuade the mind that it is such a virtue, when nevertheless it
may be a vice.
(338.) The
question now arises whether any love of virtues or of vices belongs naturally
to the rational mind. It is proved by experience that the seeds of honour are
sown in the minds of some or that there are inclinations to what is honourable,
and so the reverse ; but whatever there is from nature in any mind, which
without cultivation is no mind or which must be formed in order to be
rational, and which possesses nothing from itself or nothing but that which is
acquired, it would seem that the love of virtues is not a love proper to the
rational mind, but rather that it belongs to the superior mind which flows in
and constitutes this its nature. This takes place if the love of good flows in
; and this good is called virtue when the mind rationally observes that it
agrees with the nature of good. Thus we cannot say that the love of virtue is
proper to the rational mind, but that the soul from which that love flows is
good, or also that the mind is naturally such that it inclines to receive these
rather than other loves ; thus its inclination is only a faculty of bending
itself to the reception of this or that love.
(339-) But in
so far as the rational mind applies itself to either side, it is also receptive
of the truly good and of its love, and it becomes conscious of this good, and
from this love flowing in it wishes and desires its actual attainment ; so far
therefore the love of virtues and of vices may be predicated of the rational
mind, for by this faculty it appropriates to itself as its own these goods or
evils.
XVII.
Conclusion
as to what the Animus is, what the Spiritual Mind, and what the Rational Mind.
(340.) The
animus is a form whose essential determinations are all those affections which
flow in from the body and from the world through the gateway of the senses. In
each affeCtidn there is present as it were a special animus whose essential
determinations are all those affections which are parts of this affeCtion, and
so on. Such an animus is our peculiar disposition or genius, wherefore we speak
of indulging our disposition or animus, and by the ancients every genius or
disposition was adored and worshipped as a god, and over them all presided a
universal god ; hence Jupiter, Apollo, Venus, Mars, and the rest, and other
specific deities belonging to these. In sacred and common language all those
affeCtions of the animus which come from the body are said to come from the
heart, as when we say “With the whole heart,” or “With the whole soul,” or in
using the words pitiful [inisericors}, stupid \excors\, insane [vecers],
and so on, which terms all have reference to the blood.
The spiritual
mind is the form whose essential determinations are all those loves which flow
in from above or from God, through His Spirit by means of the Word, and from
heaven and the celestial society of souls.
(341.) This
mind is properly called the spirit, whose subjeCt is the soul; thus the soul is
indeed called spirit, but more properly would be termed spiritual.
(342.) The
rational mind is the form whose essential determinations are all those loves
which flow-in both from the spiritual mind and from the animus. These become
mingled and are called rational. They are not the property of the rational
mind, for they do not remain if the spiritual mind or the ariirhus withdraws
them. But properly speaking the rational mind is the form whose essential
determinations are all virtues and vices. For it is its property to be
conscious of the good and the evil, thus to choose those things which are good
and to reject the evil, and that which goes forth from the rational mind is
called a virtue or a vice. In every virtue and vice a rational mind is present
whose essential determinations are all the parts of that virtue or of that
vice.
(343.) I have
also mentioned a certain mind higher than the natural, which clearly is in the
pure intelle6Y - ory; but this mind is the animus itself, since the animus is
something universal and the mind of each intel- ledtory is something
particular, for in order that the universal exist there must be the
particulars from which it may exist and subsist.
That the
Rational Mind is that which is properly called Man.
(344.) The
external shape is not what makes man, for the ape is human in face and still is
an ape, and wax can be moulded into the human form and still be wax, while yet
the likeness of man. Neither is it the external form of the body which
constitutes the man. The brute animals enjoy similar members and viscera and a
similar structure as do even the more imperfect animals like the inserts.
Speech does not make man, for the parrot talks and still is not a man. The
animus is not the man, for the brutes enjoy a similar animus and are afiefted
as man is by the loves of their body and of their world.
(345.) But
that which enjoys a rational mind, in namely that it can think, judge, freely
choose and will, that creature is man. Also a man is esteemed as such by all
according to his rational mind. If he only indulges his animus and his natural
disposition, if he is stupid and dull, he is called a brute, an animal, and not
recognized as man except as having still something human which enables him to
think. The greater the intelledl or the more elevated the rational mind so much
the greater is the man. Tf it excels all others it is declared to be superhuman
and divine, and something which is above man.
(346.) We also
in ourselves recognize that only as our own which we mentally possess,’ for
every thing in the; whole system is qualified by the mind ; wherefore all
loves, as well superior as inferior, flow in and flow together into the
rational mind as into its centre, and from this they flow forth again. Thus the
beginning of all actions, and the end of all sensations, or the concentration
of the whole, is in the mind. Wherefore all other things which are without the
mind are regarded as its instruments and organs, which the mind neither knows
nor cares to know as to what they are, providedr only they serve it
as its slaves. It even seems as if God thus held in contempt these natural
things themselves,, and reduced them into so/many (instruments, since- He has;
not revealed to us their nature, or how the mind adts by means of them,
but has only given them and surrounded the mind with them, in order that they
may stand ready and obedient for every effedt by which the mind wishes to
promote its end.
(347.) We only
love that which is pleasing to this same rational mind as if to that which is
proper to ourselves, for every one wishes to appear such as he is by virtue of
his mind; even if it be through the ornaments of the body, still the desire is
that these may show the quality of the mind. Thus we feel a hatred and often
are carried away into anger toward that which injures this mind ; and what we
fear for the body is lest the mind be deprived of its instruments and powers of
acting.
(348.) In the
rational mind there is the face of the soul just as in the body is the face and
likeness of the animus. The rational mind may thus be called the body of the
soul, because it is formed into an image of its operations.
(349.) This
mind indicates what the soul is. If the soul be not spiritual and immortal by
no means can such a mind be formed in which the spiritual and natural are
conjoined. Wherefore since there are in the mind both the natural and the
spiritual, the mind possesses as in a certain centre of confluences whatever
the man possesses ; wherefore the rational man is what is called man. When
this mind is destroyed the man perishes. He then is a spirit, because the soul
alone then lives.
(350.) This is
the reason why man may be called internal and external. That spiritual
[essence] which flows into the rational mind is the interior and superior man ;
but the natural which flows in from the animus is the external man. The mind
is what perceives in itself what it is which the external and internal man
advises. Therefore the external man is the same as an animal; but the internal man the same as
an angel.
Free Will, or the Free Choice of Moral Good
and Evil.
(351.) The learned have
been in great disagreement on the liberty of the human mind. There are those
who assert that in divine and spiritual things there is no mental liberty left;
or if any, that it is but shadowy and hardly to be recognized as such. There
are some who say that all liberty is left in worldly and corporeal things; but
others declare that this is rather slavery than liberty, for the rational mind [mens]
is thus kept in chains by its affections belonging to the lower mind [animus].
And there are others again who assert that there is no liberty at all, although
it may appear as though there were ; for [it is alleged] we are drawn away
either by our own loves or by other affections which flow into the sphere of
our own minds, or by some absolute and divine direCtion which carries us away
as by a stream, or as a ship in full sail. Moreover, if the rational mind has
no affeCtions of its own, but if all flow into it either from above or from
below, it follows that the mind would not be in the exercise of its own right
or free will, but would either belong to the soul or to the body, by the
affeCtions of which it might appear to be as it were inflamed. But let us
dismiss all these controversies, since to assume arguments and then to confute
them is a barren occupation. For if we remain in arguments derived [solely] a
posteriori, or from a multitude of effects [only], we shall indeed be in
collision, and our minds will as it were be in a dense and dark forest, nor
shall we be enabled to extend our view beyond the nearest hill or the nearest
tree. Let us then rise to higher views, or to the principles and origin of
things, or to universal truths, and from these let us descend according to
order, nor turn from the way to refute any one, but continue straight on to the
goal.
(352.) That our rational
mind can freely judge and decide,, or freely think, and when impossibilities do
not hinder can freely will and aft out what it thinks, is acknowledged by
every one. Without the liberty of thinking, or of acting conformably to what
we think, there would be no understanding and no will; yea, the very name of
will would be banished from the vocabulary, and we should know nothing about
it. Without free will there would be nothing affirmative and nothing negative,
there would be no virtue and no vice, and consequently no morality. There
would also be no religion and no divine worship, for this requires a free mind.
Thus, there could be no hearing of prayers, still less any imputation [of good
or evil], because nothing could be regarded as our own. For who imputes
anything to a machine, or to him who adts from necessity and not from himself?
Men also regard actions, as they proceed from a will which is not forced ; what
then shall we not believe of the divine justice ? In short, without the gift of
liberty we should not be men, but merely animals. For what would our human
principle be, or that which is properly our own [as men], unless we could
think, will, and adt freely? and he who can think freely, can also will freely,
for will and adtion follow thought. Therefore not only to be free, but also the
ability of adting freely from one’s self, is truly human. It was also shown
above that the one only thing which belongs to us is the liberty said to be
that of the will.
(353-) It is a^so
an established truth, that without intelledlual life or understanding
there is no [rational] liberty, and that such as is the understanding, such is
the liberty, which increases or decreases together with its understanding ; so
that liberty may be called the spouse of the intellect, or the one only love of
the rational mind. For there is no liberty in an infant, but in adults there is
liberty. There is none in an insane or delirious mind, and none in the
dead, the intelledf being extinguished.
From these things it follows that there is a greater liberty in an intelligent
than in a stupid person, in a learned than in an ignorant man, and so forth :
for this is a consequence of what has been stated.
(354.) But inasmuch as we
have formed an erroneous opinion of the essential nature of liberty, we can
scarcely comprehend that it increases according to the degree and excellence of
the intellect; for we always believe that that man is the more free, or in the
enjoyment of greater liberty, who is more powerful and wealthy than others, and
who is thus left to himself [that is, who is less under the restraint of
external circumstances]. Thus it is supposed that the commander is more free
than the soldier, the king than his subjects, and every master than his
servant, although the servant might be most intelligent. Yea, we might [under
certain circumstances] pronounce that man who is shut up in a prison, or cast
into chains, to be more free than one who lives in the exercise of his own
right and free will. But when we speak of the essential nature and perfection
of liberty we do not understand its external but its internal form. For the
captive and the servant may potentially be more free than his master, although
not actually so. A man who is compelled to be silent may be more intelligent
than the perpetual talker, and the man whose eyes are bound may have a more
acute sight than one whose eyes are open, that is, in potency though not in
act.
(355-) We are in
the habit of confounding liberty with license, namely, to indulge our natural
tempers and to obey the wishes and lusts of the lower mind, to be able to give
the reins to our bodily appetites, yea, to allow the insane cupidities of the
mind to break out into corresponding aCts. This is not liberty but license ;
for there is a true liberty, an apparent liberty, and also a false liberty
which should be called slavery. True liberty does not consist in being able to
think and to aCt according to our thoughts whatever they may be, but in being
able to think and to judge wisely [which ability increases according to the
developed state of the intellect], and to aCt according to right reason, that
is, to choose what is good and to refuse and repel what is evil. To give the
reins to our animal or external mind [animus] is to rush into our own
destruction both as to body and soul, and to embrace that which is really evil
for that which is truly good. Wherefore of such a man no liberty can be predicated,
but rather slavery; for our rational mind is continually governed by loves, of
which some are good and others are pernicious. This, therefore, is liberty,
that the rational mind is able to cast off the yoke of its animal mind, and not
to suffer itself to be governed by pernicious loves, but by loves which are
truly good. This is also the end and objeCt why that liberty is given to us.
(356.) If we do not well
consider the liberty of the will and its free determination we cannot avoid
forming a spurious notion concerning it, imagining that it is something
separate from the intellectual principle of the rational mind, or if it be
adjoined to it, that it is, in itself, something per se or of itself;
whereas it is [only] a quality which results from this intellect itself. For if
it increases and decreases with the intellect, and if it does not exist in the
first period of infancy, and if, moreover, it is of such a nature as is the
state of the intellect, it follows that it is in the intellect in like manner
as a quality is in its subject.
(357.) In order,
therefore, that we may acquire a genuine idea of this liberty it is necessary
that we again describe what the intellect or understanding is, and in what
manner it is formed. The intellect, as we have shown in its own place, consists
of mere intellectual ideas, which are first formed from material ideas ; for
the thought itself is nothing but an unrolling and revolving in the mind of
such material ideas, from which, when they are collated into a certain form,
results the judgment or the mental conclusion in which the ideas are together,
or simultaneous, which in succession come into thought. It is also confirmed
above, that the ideas of the memory, of the imagination, and of the thought,
are nothing but changes of the state of the internal sensory and of the
intelleCtory, and that such changes can take place in the sensories and in the
intelleCtories in infinite variety, for their perfection consists in the
mutability of their states. Wherefore in the sensory, and especially in the
intelleCtory, as many changes of state can be produced as there are ratios,
analogies, series, equations, and varieties of forms in numbers and in
geometry, in their highest and most perfeCt developments. Thus there are
changes of state which are general and particular, universal and singular ;
that is, general, special, individual, and of manifold variety, simultaneous
and successive, co-ordinated and mutually subordinated one to another, and
subdivided ; that is, there are as many states and of such a nature as there
are equations in the calculus of infinites, with which equations and their
forms they may be fitly compared. We therefore perceive in the mind that this
faculty of changing its states is the very faculty of producing ideas, and that
in which intellectual power and aCtion consist. Let us, however, substitute
[for this “faculty of changing states”] the common names, intellect, ideas,
thought, principles, judgment, and the rest, which while they do not precisely
correspond, nevertheless are terms more ramiliar to us and do not
embarass our understanding.
(358.) Wherefore liberty
itself consists in producingchanges of state in the sensory, and consequently
in the intelleCtory, or in putting on states which harmonize with this or that
end. For we can turn our thoughts in whatever direCtion we please ; and in
whatever universal state we keep the mind fixed no other ideas can flow into
that state except those which belong to it. Every thought is a form which is
constituted of essential determinations. Into this general form so constituted
nothing but particular determinations which harmonize with it, can flow ; or
if it be a universal idea, no singulars or no particular ideas can flow in but
those which naturally determine that universal idea. Hence, such as is the
state of the mind such are the ideas which flow into it, such also is the form
which hence arises, and such is the affeCtion of the form, or the love. Other
things which do not harmonize with that form are either not admitted or are
reflected back, or if they be in it they are ejeCted and repudiated as
heterogeneous and as destructive of that form. This we manifestly experience
every moment ; for when we fix our thought on any subjeCt we then repudiate
and rejeCt all those things which are not similar, as though they were
discordant, as when with intention and desire we contemplate any objeCt we love
to acquire, as honour dr riches, or if we experience the venereal passion, the
mind then remains fixed in that state, and admits all those things which
contribute to the attainment of the objeCt, and rejeCts those which endeavour
to destroy that state; and the mind thus strengthens and kindles itself to that
degree that it cannot be diverted from that state into another, and if
perchance it should fall from that state it is saddened, and endeavours by
ruminating upon it to recall and restore it, and if it does not succeed it is
dejeCted and comes into a contrary state, which is wont to do violence to our
rational mind. But let us return to the consideration of liberty.
(359.) It is conceded to
our rational mind not only to change its states and to lapse from one thought
to another, but also to become conscious of and to survey, or to have an
intuition of all those particular ideas which have entered into the general
state. Yea, we can thoroughly investigate that state, and see by what love it
is governed, and how it is kindled; and we can also compare this state with
another, and ascertain which is better and more suitable to the order of
nature. It is this faculty which, in the rational mind, is called liberty.
Hence we may manifestly see that liberty is of such an extent and nature as is
the intellect, and that both are conceived, born, and developed together.
(360.) But the liberty
itself of the human mind, which may be called intellectual liberty, can be
reduced into certain classes and thus more distinctly conceived ; for there are
as many divisions (parts) of liberty as there are of the intellect. The
divisions of the intellect are intelleCtion, thinking, judging, concluding,
resolving, and willing, by which what we think, etc., is determined into aCt.
The liberty of intelleftion is the least of all in degree, since it is
with difficulty we can prevent sensations from flowing in, that is, material
ideas from hearing, sight, and the other senses ; consequently it is with
difficulty we can prevent these sensations from exciting the animal mind, and
this again from exciting the rational mind to various desires. For there are
pleasures and delights which pleasurably excite the rational mind, and carry it
away naturally into such a state. Thus the cupidities .themselves of the
animus, which arise from the body and from the world or from our associations
in the world, can scarcely be prevented from flowing in, except we were to
remove the organs of our senses, yea our very selves, from the impressions; or
when they do flow in, turn our minds away from them, which indeed is almost
beyond our human nature. The thought immediately takes up the perception
derived from without; thus also the liberty of the thought, which like
the thought itself is complete.
For we can turn the mind
when once excited by ideas in whatever direCtion we please, and admit into it
ideas from the store-house of the memory. And again we can reflect upon these
ideas individually, which become as it were so many new observations and
excitements [to ulterior ideas]. This liberty is a universally-governing
principle in the human mind, from which we can see of what quality we are, or
what is our real nature ; that is, to what loves we incline, what loves we most
willingly admit, and in what affections we most delight to indulge. Thus from
our very thoughts we can perceive what is the use of liberty. The judgment
takes up the thought, and it consists of so many principles which have been
already formed, and which the rational mind considers as so many truths. These
principles are so many intellectual ideas, and are formed from conclusions
arising from the ideas of thought. The liberty of the jtidgment is not
of so much extent as the liberty of thought; for before things are admitted
into the judgment, that they may be considered as things judged, only those
things are eleCted which we believe to be truths ; or if we do not believe them
to be truths we can, from the intuition and balancing of several kinds of love
by which we are affeCted, so temper and moderate the analysis of our thoughts
that they may as it were appear under a becoming human aspeCt. The mind may
then contemplate the present not only from the past but also from the future ;
for one equation is as it were formed, in which all things are, and which can
even contemplate and judge, as to possibility at least, of the future.
Wherefore the liberty of the judgment is more restricted to a certain natural
order than the liberty of thought, which not being under such restraint is
accustomed to wander. There may, however, be hidden in that liberty of the
thought a love, which from the fear of losing another love can be restrained.
But to enter upon this subjeCt now would be too prolix.
Th-' conclusion
immediately follows the judgment ; for we come to a conclusion in order that
what we conclude may be remitted to the will, and by that be determined into
aft. Thus the conclusion is as it were a line drawn under the equation or under
the sum, which is soon again to be resolved into its parts. In this conclusion
it is clearly perceived of what nature liberty is, or what it had been in the
judgment and what in the thought. For in the conclusion there are all things together
; and if they do not come forth into aft they are nevertheless there, so that
it is only a contemplation of future consequences, and hence a fear regarding
the desired end, which aft as so many resistances and as it were
impossibilities delaying or preventing the aft ; but immediately these fears
are removed the aft rushes forth. Our mental liberty, therefore, is under much
restraint; and in order that it may be restrained there are civil laws and
penalties, the estimation in which we desire to be held by others, misfortunes,
and other things, which restrain. But the mind when in its conclusions is to
be considered as already in its afts. The mind, however, still retains its
liberty of dissolving and changing its conclusions, and of forming .new ones.
But this liberty is very feeble, since there is generally within it the love of
self, consequently the love of one’s own ideas, which it estimates as truths.
To this liberty succeeds
the liberty of resolution, as if the equation were now to be aftually
and successively resolved into its parts ; and as the particular things which
are in the conclusion are to be successively evolved or brought out by aftions,
either of the members of the body or of the face or of the tongue or by the
speech, there remains no liberty [as it were] to this faculty, for it depends
on the essential principles which are in the conclusion ; since the faculty
itself of resolving the equation is not any intelleftual operation, but a
purely organic one, and dependent solely on the intelleft. If any thing be determined
without the intelleft it is considered as something animal, which is not
regarded as virtue or vice, or considered as worthy of praise or of blame. Of
the will I shall treat below.
(361.) From what has now
been said it appears that there is a liberty of thinking and a liberty of
acting ; and that in the middle between these two there is as it were the
liberty of choosing [arbitrandi], in which properly free will consists;
and that our mind is not capable of ruling whether the objects of the senses
and their exciting influences, both from the body and the world, shall flow in
or not, but it is capable of choosing whether these sensations and excitements
shall flow out and be determined into aCt.
(362.) In respeCl to the
liberty of thinking and judging it is almost absolute, but such as is the
intellect such is the thought and consequent liberty. Essential freedom
consists in controlling the thought itself, lest it rush forth whither
cupidities would urge it. For if cupidities are admitted into the thought, and
are not checked and restrained on the very threshold, they easily take
possession of the entire mind, which in that case is no longer its own master.
Hence true liberty consists in the mind’s ability to command itself and to cast
off the yoke of its animus. It may also be physiologically demonstrated how
this is effected.
(363.) But the liberty of
aCting is much restrained, since there are innumerable things which prevent
every thought from coming into aCt. Thus there are civil laws and penalties;
there is the sense of honour and decorum ; there are perverse ambitious
propensities which are adorned with the pretexts of truths ; there is the
respeCt we have for persons whom we must obey ; there are the necessaries of
food and clothing, for the acquiring of which there are innumerable means, all
of which [as means] have to be regarded even while the ends are kept in view.
There are certain kinds of love which prevail in the mind, to which special
loves are subject, and other things which are also restraints. There is,
moreover, the conscience itself, which is a peculiar bond of restraint, and
also a code of laws, in which are inscribed those things which restrain the
mind. All these things are to be considered as necessary restraints, which take
away from liberty the power of developing into aCt. Therefore as. to the
thought itself there is entire liberty, but as to the aCt there are many
limitations and restraints, which, however, exist and operate that we may
enjoy true liberty, and that we may not abuse it. The highest liberty,
as already stated, consists in governing our own minds so that we may live in
harmony with the order of nature ; and on this account liberty is given to us.
But how insane the human mind is, and how it suffers itself to be governed by
an inferior master or by the propensities of the animal mind, is abundantly
evident from experience. Thus it is evident that our desires must be restrained
by laws ; and we ourselves often fear lest that which possesses our minds
should by some characteristic mark break out in our actions, our speech, or
our looks ; the greatest art consists in concealing one’s own mind.
(364.) But the liberty of
deciding, which is free will, coincides with the liberty of judging, and
properly signifies that state when the mind is balanced between two kinds of
good or two loves, and can choose that which appears to it best, and determine
it into aCt. For this purpose intellect is given to us and liberty is adjoined
to it, although some men in the use of this faculty determine it against
truths or against their better conscience. This happens when the loves of the
lower mind prevail, which is sometimes attributed to human weakness, and by
this abuse of our liberty we inflid injury upon our conscience.
(365.) Therefore liberty
itself, or the faculty of freely thinking, consists solely in that ability by
which the mind can put on whatever changes of state it pleases, and thus
proceed from one state into another. For every change of state produces an
idea, either simple or compound ; thus there are as many changes of state as
there are varieties of thoughts and judgments. These things are said
concerning that which is the essence itself of liberty.
(366.) But it was observed
above that there are loves which perpetually govern our intellect, and that no
thought whatever can exist and subsist without some love as a companion which
enkindles it ; for love is the very life of thought. But how loves operate in
the mind shall be considered and explained in what follows. From this, however,
the inference might seem to be warrantable that if our rational mind is perpetually
governed by certain loves, desires, and ends, there can be no liberty, or only
of such a character as to be subject to some love which governs or commands it;
on which account there appears to be a certain necessity in every particular
[of the mind]. It is also most true that in so far as the mind is governed by
perpetual desires, without which it would be no mind, it is not its own master
and the arbiter of its own states ; but essential liberty consists in this,
that the mind can turn itself from one love to another, that is, can resist and
reject a love which is evil or apparently good, and devote itself to a love
which is truly good or which it judges to be so. Wherefore liberty does not
consist in this, that the mind be without any love, desire, or [actuating
end], for in this case it would cease to be a mind ; but liberty consists in
the ability of adopting one principle of love and of rejedting another ; and
indeed genuine liberty, namely, that which accompanies a more perfectly
developed intelledi, consists in adopting the best love [as the principle of
its life]. For if an evil love or principle is adopted it is a sign of a
perverse intelledl, namely, of an intellect governed by perverse loves, and
thus it is a sign of the absence of liberty ; however, by imperfect intelledis,
liberty is predicated of this license, or it is considered that to will and a
61 freely, according to any kind of prompting love whether good or evil, is liberty.
Whereas, according to the judgment we form of the liberty from which we aft
such is the intelleft; thus there may be the highest liberty where slavery
itself appears to exist. The reason is, because to be subjeft to the highest
good as to a master is a subordination which is eminently according to the
nature of things ; for in the order of things one thing must govern and another
must obey. Wherefore that which is superior, prior, and more perfeft must give
laws and commands to that which is inferior, posterior, and imperfeft. Hence if
the mind subjeft itself to this universal law of subordination it is most free.
For it cannot alone hold the keys, since it cannot depend on itself; wherefore
to choose and adopt the highest good is to adopt it that the mind may serve
that which is more perfeft, and suffer itself to be governed by it. For if a
servant rise up against his master, or a subjeft against his sovereign, or a
soldier against his commander, this rebellion is not liberty but lawlessness,
which destroys universal society, or an entire army.
(367.) There are in the
rational mind diverse loves, which hold sway and draw to their side ; but let
us pass over this phalanx of loves, and distinftly penetrate the subjeft [in
question]. To this end we will only consider that in general there are superior
and inferior loves; the superior are spiritual, but the inferior are natural
and corporeal. These being concentrated in the rational mind are wont to
contend against each other. The superior loves, because they are spiritual,
are more perfeft ; but the inferior loves are imperfeft. The former are constant
and perpetual; but the latter are inconstant, and in a short time they
terminate altogether. From experience it is abundantly evident that these
loves continually reign and divide the mind between them, and that whilst one
governs, another yields and is as it were extinguished. In order to see this
we have only to attend to ourselves, when our mind is deeply and long engaged
in a subject of meditation which has been enkindled by some corporeal love ; in
which state if we desire to recall spiritual and purer things into the mind we
find it to be impossible, before the former love with its meditation is
expelled. Thus when we wish to call upon God in prayer, the thought can never
come forth in its purity and clearness, but is as it were clouded and dark
until the merely natural thought is expelled and dispersed ; as when we desire
to penetrate into a purer region of thought, or to arise from nature into
spirit, it is as though the thought emerged through a cloud into the light of
the sun, which can not be done before the cloud is dispersed ; but as soon as
the clouds are dissipated a certain solar splendour shines forth upon the mind.
Thus it is precisely when corporeal and worldly loves obsess the mind, and
when the mind whilst in that state desires to penetrate into spiritual things.
(368.) From this
description it appears as though these loves were contrary to one another
because they are in conflict together, or as though the affedtions of the
animal mind are as it were waging constant warfare with the loves of the purer
mind, when, nevertheless, the soul has associated nature to itself when it
adjoined itself to a body; and it is evident that God did not join spiritual
things with natural that they should be in war with each other, but that they
should be mutually conjoined. But it must be well considered that the lower
mind, with all its affedtions, is associated to the body, inasmuch as without
it the body could not live, nor could any rational mind exist, and that there
is no affedtion which [in itself] is not lawful, and which does not spring from
the universal love which is in the soul [as its adluating principle]. But the
reason why they are at war is because the inferior loves desire to gcvern in
the court of the mind, and to exterminate the more perfedt loves, and thus to
govern the soul itself which is contrary to the very order of nature, namely,
that that which in itself is inconstant and imperfect should govern that which
is constant and perfect ; for in this manner universal nature, as to its
order, would be ruined and destroyed. Another reason also is, because the
animus, with its peculiar affections, since it is devoid of reason, knows no
moderation and rushes whithersoever cupidity carries it along, and thus to the
destruction of the body and even to ruin of the soul itself, as we shall
demonstrate below. For thus the affeCtions of the animus are always tending to
excess, and know no bounds nor moderation. This is the reason why the rational
mind, furnished with intellect, is set to preside over these affections of the
animus, and that there is a perpetual battle [between them] ; for the soul well
knows that such a liberty would endanger her entire kingdom and cast her down
from her throne, wherefore she combats as much as possible [against these lower
affeCtions], until she at length triumphs or gives herself up as conquered. For
the soul, from its own nature, resists every force and every assault by which
the economy of its body is destroyed, and by which its spiritual loves are
extinguished, or if not extinguished are changed into such as are contrary to
truths. If, however, the loves of the animus should subject themselves
entirely to the loves of the soul there would then be no warfare, but the man
would live in a most happy state, that is, he would live as in his primeval
golden age, or as in his first infancy ; but then there would be no intellect,
which [as is the case now] must be formed and instructed by the senses and the
affeCtions of the animus ; and that it may be free it must know what is good
and evil, which it would not know if all things proceeded according to their
order. Wherefore all the passions are so many warm emotions and excitements of
the corporeal life, which are all allowable, provided they in moderation be
made subservient to the use [of what is rational and spiritual].
(369.) The rational mind
is therefore constituted in the middle between inferior and superior loves,
which combat against each other, and endeavour to possess that mind. Thus the
rational mind is as it were a balance, and the intellect with its liberty holds
the beam from which the two scales depend. One scale belongs to the body, the
other to the soul ; or the one belongs to the animal mind, and the other to the
purely rational mind. Into the scale belonging to the body there constantly
flow powers like so many weights, which affetSi and occupy the rational mind;
for they enter in through the doors of the senses, from the world and from the
body itself and its blood, so that the mind can never be exempt from their
operation; yea, it is formed by these things so as to be a mind ; for we must
be informed and instructed' by the way of the senses. But the loves of the
soul, or the pure loves, do not enter in by any way of the senses, but are
insinuated in a most secret manner from within ; not do they come to the
consciousness of our mind, because they are too pure for its purest ideas to
comprehend ; but they are like so many forces which insensibly occupy [the
mind], for they have had possession from the first stamen of its existence even
to its birth, although no rational mind then appears to exist. Hence it may
easily be judged that the loves of the body would prevail, and that the loves
of the soul could not be conceived of as to their quality by our mind, except
by an idea fixed in those things which are obvious to our senses, and with
which a comparison may be established. For the soul itself cannot instruct
us—nothing belonging to it is allied to words, nor can it be expressed in
speech ; thus it can not sensibly flow into the consciousness of the mind. From
this cause it follows that the rational mind can but with difficulty enjoy the
gift of its liberty, but is as it were carried away like a captive by the scale
of the body. We therefore now inquire, What is the nature of liberty in natural
and corporeal things, and what is its nature in spiritual divine things, and
how, from natural liberty we may be led into spiritual liberty.
(370.) Liberty purely natural
does not exist ; for liberty without a spiritual principle can not be called
liberty; but liberty can be predicated of the rational mind, because that
mind'can determine itself from what is natural to what is spiritual, and vice
versa; for except there was a scale which could be raised or depressed,
there would be no equilibration and consequently no balance. There is indeed a
certain libration between various affections which are purely natural, for that
which prevails bears down the scale, and one affeCtion is ejeCted while another
succeeds ; but these are like weights of various material and magnitude which
are placed in the same balance ; for one kind of natural affeCtion as well as
another equally depresses or averts the mind, and prevents it from being raised
to superior things. Liberty, therefore, in natural things, or the power of
betaking ourselves from one natural love to another is not liberty but is
rather servitude ; because the mind, which ought to choose that which is best,
is in that case either drawn into an apparent good or into an absolute evil.
For the liberty of exercising savage rage against enemies, even when conquered,
of defrauding friends of their goods, of living sumptuously, and of aspiring at
pre-eminence over others, is not liberty but servitude ; for as was stated
above, to be able to conquer oneself, that is freedom. In the meantime the mind
has full liberty of removing itself from spiritual and divine things, and of
determining itself to corporeal loves. But provision against this is furnished
in the forms of government, in established laws, and in penalties imposed upon
crimes and the abuse of liberty. As another preventive, there is also the dread
of losing one’s earthly enjoyments.
(371.) There is also no
[purely] spiritual liberty in the rational mind ; because the rational mind can
understand nothing of any superior love, that is, of those things which are
above itself. For that which is superior can judge of inferior things, but not
contrariwise. Nor can the mind perceive that it is in any spiritual love,
because it cannot form an idea of it except this idea be affixed to something
natural, that it may by comparison understand of what nature it is ;
consequently it cannot experience any sensible delight when it is in a
spiritual delight, except that it can imagine it to be something more perfect,
more stable, more illimitable, something as it were infinite, perpetual,
immortal, and something incomparable in respect to that which it perceives to
be inconstant, limited, finite, and something mortal and to have an end.
Nevertheless, that the mind may turn itself from those things which are
perceived and felt to be something, and likewise present, faith is required ;
for the mind cannot of itself perceive that such things exist, since the mind
when it directs its attention hither perishes as it were in a kind of abyss.
This faith is either intellectual or divine. Intellectual faith can be acquired
by an inmost reflection and intuition of things ; it is, however, easily
extinguished when material ideas come over the mind. But faith from a divine
origin is the only faith which can persuade the mind about spiritual things
otherwise not capable of perceiving them. Moreover, since the rational mind
cannot of itself acquire such [spiritual] ideas, neither is it gifted with the
liberty of putting on those states which agree with spiritual loves.
(372.) We therefore now
inquire, In what does liberty really consist; since there is none in purely
natural things, and none in spiritual things, and since the mind cannot of
itself turn itself from natural to spiritual things? But if we thoroughly
examine and investigate the essence of human liberty, we shall find that it
especially consists in this, that our mind can shake off natural loves, or withdraw
and deliver itself from them, and retain only so much as is requisite for the
support of the body; for to put off all natural things would be to put off the
man himself, or to deprive him of animal life. The mind can perceive that whilst
it is immersed in corporeal affeCtions, it cannot possibly direct
itself to spiritual things.
[THE FOUR CONSTITUENTS OF LIBERTY IN NATURAL THINGS.]
(i.) Liberty, therefore,
in natural things consists, in the first, place, in the ability of withdrawing
the mind from corporeal things, and in considering them only as means
instrumental and subservient to spiritual things ; precisely as the universal
body is only an organ or instrument of the soul, so the animal mind should be
the instrument of the spiritual mind.
(ii.) Liberty, in the
second place, consists in this, That the mind can be instructed both by the
Sacred Scripture and by other writings, and also from one’s own reflection,
that there is a Spiritual and Divine principle which is superior, and thus
acquire a certain intellectual faith ; by which, when acquired, the mind can be
kept in the thought of such things, and be fed and nourished by them. From this
capability of thinking about spiritual things, when corporeal cupidities are
removed the mind can be led into ideas which harmonize with spiritual loves ;
which loves, since they are perpetually present, flow in of themselves, and
thus as it were vivify and induce changes of state in the intellect, until at
length it is imbued with some sense and perception of spiritual things.
(iii.) Liberty, in the
third place, consists in this, That the mind can make use of prescribed means
which are called sacred ; that is, it can engage in public worship in the
churches, observe the sacraments, adore God, and especially pray to Him [in
private]. All these things are left to human minds, and they all constitute
that liberty which is conceded To man ;.and when these sacred things are
rightly employed divine grace is never wanting, but is always present to infuse
faith and love, and by its providence so to govern man that he can become warm
with spiritual love and zeal.
(iv.) In the fourth place,
a liberty now comes by which the mind can be delighted with spiritual things as
often as it averts itself from corporeal things and submits itself to what is
spiritual. For when the mind glows with spiritual zeal the intellect is then
formed as it were anew, and should be called a spiritual intelleft, which
consists in changes of state which are most universal and most perfeft, and
which do not belong to the sensory but to the pure intelleftory. In this case
the animus with its affeftions yields; for the particular intelleftories are
parts and particulars which constitute the animus, of which if the inmost
essence be purified, the common or general state will be held in obedience. But
this state, so far verified, can never exist in the body. This is the genuine
state of liberty ; for in this state the mind relishes the supreme good, and
chooses that which is best.
(373.) In this manner the
human mind is perfefted; and it becomes most perfeft when it is most adapted to
the reception of superior loves. It is then purified and as it were formed
anew, that is, it is renovated and regenerated, and rendered harmless and
innocent, such as it is in infants, whose minds are not yet governed by any
animus but by the pure mind. Therefore minds are to be introduced into that
state in which they were prior to development and formation by the way of the
senses or a posteriori. For as the body [in old age] returns as it were
into a state of infancy, so also ought the mind to do, and thus as it were to
forget all those corporeal things which extinguish what is spiritual ; that is,
it should not be concerned about such things only so far as to be able to live
prudently and perform one’s duties as a member of civil society. Such minds,
almost spiritual, even whilst they live in the body, have their feet as it were
on the threshold of heaven and of its internal felicity; and for this purpose
they long to be set free.
(374.) From what has been
said it appears of what nature the liberty of the first or most perfeft man, or
Adam, was. He enjoyed a
most perfect intellect, which was enkindled and animated solely by spiritual
love, in whom the animal mind could not as yet rebel and combat against the
soul [animae] and the spiritual mind. For his rational mind was not
instructed by the way of the senses, nor was there any depraved society in
existence which could irritate his mind, nor the knowledge of any evil which
could infest it. His mind was supremely rational, and was entirely subjeCt to
his soul, and his soul to God ; thus his mind was most free, because he knew
what is supremely good, in experiencing it; for his mind was not adapted to any
other loves. Thus his entire will was most free, because it was led to the best
things. He could also be led to inferior or evil things, otherwise no liberty
could be possible ; which also experience has taught us. The ignorance of evil
takes nothing away from such [state of] liberty; for it does not appear to have
been the ignorance of evil but an aversion against it as being contrary to his
nature ; so that evil could be suggested or flow into his thought, but none
could exist in his will. Thus the image of God, or the type of all spiritual
loves, was manifest in his body. From him it is that we derive the propensity
that as he desired to rise up against his God and to violate the laws of
subordination, so does our animal mind perpetually endeavour to do the same,
and to rise up in rebellion against the spiritual loves of the soul. Therefore
he of all men is the most free who, knowing what evil is and capable of
practicing it, still holds it in aversion.
(375-) That man who
vehemently combats with himself and who bravely overcomes his corporeal
desires is more free than he who never engages in any such combat; for the very
use and exercise of liberty is to conquer oneself, nor can any man conquer
when he has no enemy to combat. But these things we deduce from causes, or from
the very nature of intellect, in which liberty resides. For he who is
vehemently assaulted and impugned by corporeal loves, that is, by temptations,
may indeed admit them and harbour them in his mind ; nevertheless, if he
extinguishes them before they come out into aft he restores the state of his
sensory and of his intelleftory; for the desires which oppose pure love,
change, pervert, and torment the state of the rational mind, and at that moment
spiritual loves recede or are suffocated ; for these spiritual loves cannot
agree with either state, because they require an entire and most perfeft state,
and they shun all imperfeft states because they present nothing concordant and
harmonious. But if these imperfeft states are determined into aft, they
instantly contraft a nature so that the [evil] state spontaneously returns and
passes through its vicissitudes and alternations. For it is by use that we are
accustomed to any form and to the changes of its state. Thus the tongue by
usage learns its plications or foldings, and the same plication returns at the
first rising of a similar idea. The muscle also conforms itself only by usage
to the aftion ; but a naked endeavour or conatus, however strong, does not
teach the mode of motion. And thus it is in other things. Our intelleft, or
the changes of the state of the sensory and of the intelleftory, are
cultivated, and can be taught even to extreme old age. A naked effort or
conatus can never induce a natural change in the state, but it is accustomed to
relapse into its former state. And just as often that spiritual love of the
soul is inflamed as with a certain zeal and warmth, and it flows in the more
powerfully, as though acknowledging the intelleft as its viftorious one, and so
it begins to love more exceedingly its rational mind. Thus the stronger the
temptations are the greater is the joy of the soul and the greater the reward
after the viftory. From these things it appears that the works of charity,
although there is no merit in them, are beneficially conducive to the state of
mind, since they imbue it with the faculty of receiving spiritual loves.
(376.) Hitherto I have
spoken concerning perfeft souls, in whom there are most perfeft loves; but
there are also souls whose loves are indeed spiritual, but contrary to divine
love, that is, they love imperfeftions; from these also affeftions flow, but
such as love a perverse state of mind whence contrary effefts result; but
concerning these souls we shall speak elsewhere.
(377.) Finally, the inquiry
remains, Why should human minds be gifted with free will, since it is this very
faculty which renders the human race most unhappy, and on account of which we
are subjeft to infernal punishments ? For from abuse of this faculty all crimes
derive their origin ; whereas [it is thought] that without such a faculty of
free will we might all be saved. But to these inquiries we thus reply: It is
evident that the supreme wisdom of God requires this free will in man, and that
His providence is direfted chiefly in guarding and promoting this faculty, and
indeed to such a degree that He will not suffer the slightest thing to
interfere with it; but He rather permits men to rush into the most abominable
crimes than deprive them in the least of their free determination. This
experience itself clearly shows ; and nevertheless, at the same time, that
punishment awaits every person who is wicked in his soul and mind, both in this
life and in the future. It is also allowable for us to think about the causes,
since this also is conceded to our liberty of thinking, provided our
confirmation be not repugnant to divine wisdom and human reason.
[FOUR CAUSES FOR THE EXISTENCE OF FREE WILL.]
(i.) The first cause, then, why we are gifted with free will, appears to be this, That without the liberty of thinking, judging, and
afting, there could be no understanding, no intelleftual life, nor could our
rational mind be conscious either of good or of evil.
(ii.) That without liberty
there could be neither virtue nor vice, and consequently nothing moral ; since
the rational mind is as it were a form, the essential determinations or
determinating parts of which are either virtues or vices.
(iii.) That without
liberty nothing could be regarded as our own ; consequently there could be no
merit, nothing either praiseworthy or blameworthy, for necessity takes away the
very nature of merit; thus there would be nothing on account of which we could
be either rewarded or punished. Without free will there could be no favour or
grace, not even from the Divine Being himself; nothing ought to be more free
than the worship of God, or religion, and this is the reason why we are
commanded to believe and to love God, which from ourselves we cannot do;
nevertheless, there is something within us by which we can concur with these
divine commands, and it is this concurrence alone which is required of us.
(iv.) Without liberty
there would be no human society ; there could be no society of external minds \ani-
moruiri\, no society of rational minds \mentium\ and of character;
yea, there could be no association of bodies, and no diversity; all would be
either entirely equal or entirely contrary to one another; nor could there be
any mutual application of one to another; thus this our human world could not exist,
for nature if all things were equal would entirely perish and be nothing, since
it lives in diversity, and indeed in a diversity of such a character that from
all the varieties thence resulting a certain harmony may exist.
(v.) Without liberty there
would be no enjoyments of life, for this in necessity altogether perishes;
hence it is that liberty is the [essentially] human delight.
(vi.) Without liberty
there could be no diversity of souls, and consequently no heavenly society
could exist, the form of whose government is celestial; in a word, without
liberty the end of creation could not be obtained, which end consists in
realizing a society of souls or a heaven.
(vii.) Wherefore it is
perfectly consistent with the Divine wisdom and with the necessity hence
resulting, on account of the wisest end which is foreseen and provided for,
that our minds should be endowed with liberty, and that the Divine providence
itself should perpetually watch over and govern, in guarding this liberty, and
in directing it to its proper ends, that is, in distinguishing one thing from
another, even as to the minutest particulars, in order that the most perfeft
form of a celestial society may be the result.
Will
and its liberty and the Intellect in regard THERETO.
(378.) It is most
difficult for the psychologists to explain what the will is, to distinguish it
rightly from the intellect, and to consider clearly its parts ; for the will is
not the intellect, since we are able to wish that which is contrary to the
intellect, that is, contrary to the truth understood or to the better
conscience ; hence comes the art of dissimulating, which so prevails in the
earth. We are also able to aCt from the intellect or from the conscience of
truth ; for the intellect itself searches for truths, but will is led to aft as
from a certain love, often without knowing whether it be a good love or not ;
whence comes the saying, “I know the better and desire the worse.”
(379.) But that we may
know what the intellect is we must return to those things that are below the
will of which we have a knowledge, that by comparison and a mode of
correspondence we may perceive what it is. Below the rational mind [mens]
is the lower mind \animus\i and below the intellect the
fivefold sensation or the universal sensation which is called the perception.
Affections are attributed to the animus, as are also cupidities. Likewise
loves are attributed to the mind [/mis], as also wishes ; so that
the cupidity of the animus corresponds to the will in the rational mind. The
ardour of cupidity in the animus is called desire in the mind [mens],
which is joined with the will itself. When we thus truly perceive what relation
the perception holds to the animus, and also perceive the relation of the
intelleft to the rational mind, then also, understanding the relation of the
cupidities to the affeftions, and of these to the mind [mens], we see
the relation of the wishes [voluntates] to the loves, and of these to
the rational mind.
(380.) Now every affeftion
has as it were its animus and particular genius, and likewise every love its
own particular mind, so that its own mind is said to be in it, and as thus
there are as many affections or special animi as desires of the animus, so
there are as many loves or special minds as there, are wills of the mind. This
parallelism occurs in other similar things, so that by mere change of terms
those things are suggested which are proper to the mind.
(381.) From these
[parallelisms] flow forth as it were the synonyms, will, mind, intention,
inclination ; as when one says, “This is your mind, your will, your intention,”
and so on. But no one says, This is your intelleft, unless in those things
which are direftly subjeft to the operations of the intelleft.
(382.) That we may perceive
what the will is we ought to first separate it from the intelleft, or consider
the intelleft abstraftly from the will. Intelleft viewed in itself has for its
objeft truth, and the very essence of truth, its nature, quality ; nay, even
the conneftion of truths among themselves, as well as truths in goods, as in
harmonies, in affeftions of the animus, in the loves of the rational mind ; in
a word, it extends to all things in the universe whose nature it desires to
explore. It is concerned first in finding out causes from effefts or effefts
from causes, which is called the science of Dialeftics and also Topics. The
method itself a priori or from principles is called Synthetics, and
that a posteriori, Analytics. The method itself of exploring causes is
indeed Analytics. It is similiar to the method by which the intelleft is produced.
When the intelleft is perfefted then it is possible to proceed by the synthetic
way, that is, from principles. which are so many truths ; but truly the
synthetic way in itself is of the mind, especially of the pure mind. It is then
the method of the soul and of the angels, who laugh at our intellect, for they
have their knowledge from themselves, without science or demonstration. The
intellect itself is beneath the mind by nature, but the rational mind ought to
be beneath the intellect. Another part of the intellect is Rational Logic,
namely, to draw conclusions from antecedents and consequents.
(383.) But the mind viewed
apart from the intellect is not rational, but it is all natural, and is ruled
by its own desire and from itself; for it is love, which is an operation of the
soul and spiritual, which controls the mind. Loves are either those of the
animus or the pure mind ; these govern the rational mind, which possesses no love
of its own or from itself. The mind always has an end, which may even be its
principle, and which may be in its means, and may rule everywhere, so that in a
whole series of means there shall be the same end. This end is viewed in the
mind, and indeed as present, whether it be in things past or to come ; but the
mind naturally bears with it all the means which lead to that end, for nature
is so formed that it may serve the mind as means while its ends are in
progress. It is natural that means should be separated by time and space, but
not the end, which is the same ; and because the end is the same in the
beginning, in the mediates and the last, it follows that love is the end. This
is desired and is promoted by the effects, so that we may perceive in the mind
the same love, its complement, and ultimate end which was in the beginning;
whence springs the pleasure of the body, when [this love] descends into the
body. It is also possible to ascend, and there are accordingly loves of the
anirqus or loves of the soul which control our mind, and thus are regarded as
ends. The intellcdl viewed in itself is not mindful of any end unless in its
own mind, as for instance when it thinks, For what reason do I desire to know
this? and it observes that there is a latent cause which rules it, which is
called the love of knowing truths, and which love terminates in some love of
its mind. From this it appears that the intellect in itself is the instrumental
cause of the superior mind, but it ought to be the principal cause in ruling
the animus, its affections, etc.
(384.) Let us now consider
what the rational mind is ; for as it is rational it ought not be carried from
one end or purpose to another, naturally or spontaneously, this being known as
instinCt; of which [instinctive] mind no will can be predicated, as willing or
not willing, but merely an involuntary and unconscious being borne to the
carrying out of its own destined ends. Thus the rational mind, which is as it
were an internal sight, ought to associate the intellect with itself, not only,
for instance, to observe the truths of its own loves, or its ends contemplated
as to their quality, but also to observe what are the means and in what order
they are disposed so that the mind may pursue these ends. For this, knowledge
is required a posteriori. When the mind associates with itself the
intellect, it then is called rational and human.
(385.) The reason that the
mind ought to associate the intellect with itself is because the mind is
naturally borne to those ends which are purely animal or of the animus, that
is, to corporeal and worldly pleasures ; that it should therefore be turned
from these and directed towards higher ends it is necessary that the mind
adjoin the intellect to itself. The intellect ought to be the principal in
controlling the cupidities of the animus, but instrumental in the loves and
desires of the superior mind ; for when the mind is inclined to the affeCtions
of the body then the intellect ought to be the most aCtive, but when the mind
inclines to spiritual loves the intellect will be passive, for these loves
naturally dispose from themselves means to the end, since all things then flow
in a provident order without the intellect, its occupation being only in
rejecting and moderating the affeftions of its own animus.
(386.) Thus the mind
regards ends as present in future things, consequently even all intermediate
ends as constituting one series or chain ; for the last end or rather the last
thing is not given in nature without a succession of means, nor can it be
promoted without a nature in which it may as it were inhere, while the mind is
intent on the effeft. That the mind embraces in itself the mediate ends, while
nature follows at will as an instrument, appears from the various wonderful instinfts
of brute animals ; for the spider fabricates its own web most artificially,
and fastening it under the roof-tile, he places himself in the middle of it,
and seizes his food, winding it in by the threads. Bees crowd their cells,
filling them with honey for the winter; they hatch eggs, are subjeft to their
queen, send out colonies, kill the drones. Birds build their nests skillfully.
All as it were from a most perfeft intelleft know all nature, science, and
art, mathematics, pneumatics, and anatomy. We are governed by many spontaneous
[activities], such being a whole natural economy, chemistry, physics, and
mechanics. The mind commands every organ and its whole nature; and our
intelleft, after the examinations of so many centuries, is not able to discover
how it afts; even the brain itself to-day lies hidden from our knowledge ; thus
while our rational mind is aft- ing through the will, we are still so ignorant
that we do not know what the will truly is and how it afts.
(387.) Thus the loves of
the superior or pure mind do not need our intelleft for attaining its ends, but
the ends naturally follow the love of the mind, when the love is pure; the
intelleft is only able to effeft this that the mind shall rest in the
determining of those ends, which are the loves pure]y corporeal,
since the loves of the body, if they are the instrumental causes of the
superior mind, then flow in natural order. The intelleft ought also to be
interested in advancing superior ends aftively, but so long as society is otherwise,
being carried away by so many different cupidities, it is enough that it should
abstain trom those things by which it is led astray. The rest belongs to
Providence, which operates secretly through our mind, flowing into actions. All
things from themselves and by Providence follow the purely good mind to
its immortal felicity. All things from themselves and by Providence follow
the purely evil mind to its infelicity; but pure evils are not given in the
rational mind, for in that case it would be given over to its own body and the
animus which the mind loves. But let us return to the will.
(388.) The
will in general signifies mind, specifically some special mind or determined
love ; and because the mind comprehends in itself all mediate ends, also it perceives
what opposes and what does not oppose the attainment of its ends. Wherefore
the rational mind derives the means from its own intellect, and it disposes
them in the natural order, also more methodically as the mind is more perfect
and better. In this arrangement of means there are as many parts of the mind as
there are of the intellects, namely, cogitation, judgment, and conclusion. The
mind thinks while it resolves and considers the means, and at the same
time has in view the end to which it tends. It judges when it disposes
the means into their true order, in which means it regards the ends which are
to follow spontaneously. At length it conchides or wishes ; this
conclusion is called the will; for then all those things are in the will as in
an equation which before were in the thought. Thus the will possesses all the
essentials of aCtion, as the effort all the essentials of motion. This
conclusion is different from the intellectual conclusion, in which there is no
will, for the end is not that of aCting, but of knowing what is true, and thus
of instructing the mind what end it ought to love, what to wish, and what to
avoid. Thus our intellect is able to propose ends, but God provides. •
(389.) Thus the mind with
its thinking and judging of means is always present in the will, and it
contemplates the action itself in the will as present; but because it also at
the same time regards oppositions and resistances, partly from its own
intellect, partly from itself naturally, the will is not able to be determined
into adtion unless the resistances are removed ; just as an effort which is
always bent upon an evil, the moment obstacles are removed rushes forth to its
indulgence.
(390.) There are as many
wills as there are ends; even the intermediate ends themselves are wills; thus
adtion is a perpetual will, and rational adiion ceases when the will ceases ;
and such as the will is such is the adtion in man ; but in brutes such as is
the adiion such is the will, which is the same with the cupidity of their animus.
This cupidity is controlled by a kind of mind purely natural, but not by a
spiritual mind.
(391.) The will always
desires to expand its own internal sensories, as effort always desires to
expand itself, just as in atmospheres compressed and held in equilibrium by
surroundings, or even as if held in cords, but it is coerced by surrounding
things or by so many intermediates in which it is involved, which resist. But
in case they do not resist, the will is immediately brought to open adiion.
Thus will is joined to effort, and action to the motion, as the spiritual to
its natural or the end to its effedt. Wherefore it is not only a
correspondence but a real coupling; and thus the will can be called rational
effort, for life added to nature becomes that which is called animal.
(392.) While the mind is
in its own will, it is then limited • and determined particularly or
specifically, and is present in certain fibres of the body which pertain,
namely, to the adiion which it has in view; consequently it is determined
within in certain internal sensories or cortical glands to which the moving
fibres correspond, especially the brain, from which it contemplates the action
of the body as if present. But in those resistances
WILL AND ITS
LIBERTY AND THE INTELLECT. 25 I which are in and which as it were surround the will it
contemplates delay, thus in time and space, or in that nature itself through
which the end is to be obtained. Thus it is a faculty of the rational mind to
regard as times and spaces these same delays, degrees, and movements of nature,
or its celerities and distances. Thus celerity of time corresponds to [the idea
of] time, and distance of place to [the idea of] space, as also succession to
[the idea of] motion.
(393-) That
the will may proceed into aftion the equation it contains must be resolved
particularly and by members; just so as when we wish to resolve a problem in
algebra or its equation into its ratios and analogies by numbers in arithmetic,
or by figures in geometry.
(394.) When
the will thus breaks forth into aft it is called the determination of the aft,
and thus a form similar to that in the will is determined in aflions. The
determination itself arises through the expansion and contraction of the
cortical glands, through which the animal spirit is forced into the nervous
fibres, and from these into the moving [powers] of the body, whence such an
aCtion exists as was in the will. Thus the mind can go through one fibre after
another and one muscle after another with whatever celerity it desires, for the
muscular system is so articulated and formed that it may correspond to each
determination of the rational mind.
(395-) The
will also at once recurs with its accustomed spontaneity because the mind
acquires its own mutations of state through use and culture, and thus it
reverts spontaneously to a similar idea. For all things on the way have by the
same use become so natural that like instrumental causes they serve their
principal or chief.
(396.) Since
thus the will is the rational effort, and carries with it this nature of
desiring to expand its sensories, but in a way determined into the form of an
aCtion, we next inquire how this is physically accomplished in the common
sensory, or what is the mutation of state in
the sensory
when the mind is in its own will. It is not like the mutation in the ideas of
its own intellect, which are as many as the mutations of state. Very different
is the case with the will and its love and desires ; for in the determination
of certain sensories which the will desires to expand, in order to produce its
anions weaker or stronger, a form of forces thence exists which is similar to a
form of modes or of modifications consisting in mere attempts to expand its own
glandules. Thus the will can exist and subsist both separately and together
with the mutations of the intellect ; and thus the physical cause of the will
seems to be made intelligible.
(397.) But as
concerns that liberty which is commonly ascribed to the will, this derives its
origin from the faCt that we say that we are able to will and not to will, to
determine this to action and not to determine it, to wish against the better
conscience or persuasion of the intellect, thus to simulate, to deceive, and
to contrive wiles ; but in this case the nearest cause of the aCtion is taken
for the remote, as is often done in various other things. This is the reason
why the will is commonly accepted for the intention and for the mind itself;
for while the mind thinks and judges concerning means it is able to vary some,
to seleCt others, to change its own mind, yea, even its ends ; but all this
through the aid of the intellect, which it is able to consult, so that the mind
and the intellect are in this cogitation, for the most part conjoined, but
afterwards they are parted according as the love and will, like a cupidity of
the mind, carry it away. Thus the mind is able to introduce other means and
other ends to its own will, as in a conclusion, even to change those that have
been presented to it, to multiply, to divide, to withdraw them, even to the
taking away of the whole will, and the substituting of a new one according as
it foresees success. For this reason, when the mind associates itself with the
intellect, then liberty can be predicated of it ; as there is no liberty if it
is carried away by its loves. Liberty, therefore, is predicated of the will ;
for the mind is able to judge the whole progress of means—when, how, and how
far these shall be determined into aCt.
(398.) But
indeed, if we look closer into this liberty, it does not seem to be separated
from the liberty of the intelled or from the free will, but coupled with it;
without the liberty of the intelled there would be no liberty of the mind ;
but the liberty of the mind consists solely in this, that it is able to obey
and not to obey its own intellect.
(399 )
Meanwhile there is a universal will, which is composed of the particular wills
which subsist beneath it. There is a common will, which is composed of other
wills as its parts ; this will is then called mind. There is a general will, a
special and an individual will, so that the will may be divided into genera and
species. There is a will subordinate to another, and a will co-ordinate with
others, exaCtly as has before been predicated of the intellect. For there are
as many intermediate ends, and as many wills, as there are means. In a word, all
will has respecl to an effect in which is an end, thence to a future event.
(400.) No
liberty and no will is left to the soul so long as it remains in the body, for
it does not aCt from any previous deliberation, since all science and all
intel- led are connate with it, and it is itself science and pure intelligence
; thus it has not to consult any intellect and associate itself with it,
because it is by nature associated and most closely conjoined with it. Of its
own nature it then flows into the sphere of the rational mind, and its
operations are so many spiritual loves, which are kindled when the loves of the
body and the world are removed, but under other circumstances become cold. The
soul also is held to aCt according to the will of the rational mind, for the
rational mind is not able to produce any adtion from itself. This belongs to
the soul as to the principal cause, and indeed necessarily, for unless the soul
should thus condescend, the whole corporeal machine would go to pieces, and the
sensories themselves would be broken up. But whether it be with its nature or
against it, it must consent to adlion, and thus either love its mind or hate
it. This is the reason why no one knows the state of his mind except God
Himself.
(401.)
Discourse, or the explanation of intellectual ideas though material ideas,
which are just so many words, whence arise speech and conversation, does not
result through influx but through correspondence, just as when hearing passes
into the sight. Thus just so many mutations of the state of the sensory are
formed, to each of which correspond certain forces or expansions of those
corticals which command the very muscles of the tongue. This correspondence
comes through use and culture, for whether an idea of the mind is to be
pronounced in one way or in another, nevertheless the correspondence [between
the idea and the word] remains.
(402.) The
aCtion of the tongue, however, cannot be accomplished without the will, for
will is the beginning of aCtion, as the beginning of motion is effort. Wherefore
the idea has to be carried from the thought into the will, and this is the
joint operation as much of the intellect as the mind ; thus the whole thought
is as it were carried to the conclusion, which thus coincides with the will.
(403.) But
still it appears in discourse how distinCt are the intellect and the mind, for
speech or conversation are the intellect talking; through the connection of
material ideas, or words, and their different dispositions, conjunctions, and
the verbs, aCtive, passive, simple and compound, qualities which are partly
occult, a form is produced which can be understood by the rational mind, and thus
be elevated from the sphere of inferior ideas into that of higher ones, where
the mind seizes upon and understands a certain inner sense which does not
appear in its true meaning except through the connexion itself just described.
The mind, however, is present with
its own loves, and excites the very conversation, and as it were vivifies not
only the sound, but even supplies the more ardent words ; especially does it
break forth into gesture, into the expression of the face and the forms of
action, which are images of the mind itself; thus from the speech itself it may
generally be clearly seen what kind of an animus lies hidden within, however
much it may simulate, for it is likely to be kindled by the thought and speech
itself dwelling long upon one subject.
(404.) From
discourse it appears of what nature is the communication of the intellect and
the mind, and especially what is natural and what spontaneous to the mind and
to the intellecSt. But this matter is extremely prolix.
These subjects have been but little thought out.
(405.) Human
prudence, which is sometimes called the providence of the rational mind,
consists chiefly in discovering and arranging means to a good end, so that the
end may follow spontaneously as it were, after the example of nature, or that
the disposition and ordering of the means may be as it were a natural one. Nor
does it seem to take its rise from any previous intellect, since it presupposes
[in itself] an intelleft disciplined and more perfeft, as also a mind which is
in accord with such an intelleft, nor does the end reveal the intention. The
prudence is greater in the degree that the end is better; for what prudence
allows it supposes to be good, or at least in the intelleft it is true or truly
good. That prudence may be of the highest charafter it is requisite that the
best end be sought for, as the preservation of society or of one’s country, of
religion, of the Divine glory, and similar things ; then when man proposes,
God disposes, or Divine providence concurs with human providence. The mind in
this case perceives no end except as intermediate, not even the last, unless in
the last there is that which is First. He who arrives at this last in which is
the First perceives all ends as intermediates. His prudence does not need to be
active of itself, it is rather rendered active from a superior love, and the
means are present as if of themselves.
(406.) Prudence is required as long as human minds are so
very different, some inclining to evil, others to good; and without these
various minds there would be no means for advancing an end. For every man is an
instrumental cause and the means of some superior end; for even evil minds can
be of use in attaining a good end, often a devil in forwarding the best end, as
when Judas, inspired [by a devil] betrayed the Messiah. But this is done not by
command but by consent, for infinite means are given to a single end, so that
it is not necessary to seek such evil means but only to admit them by consent.
(407.) Human prudence extends itself to all actions in civil
life, especially in evil society or among the wicked, both in protecting
themselves and in furthering those things which look to the safety of society;
but there is a civil as well as a moral prudence, even universal and
particular, and there are its genera and species.
Simulation
and Dissimulation.
(408.) Things
whether true or false are to be simulated or dissimulated exactly according to
the genius of the age, or according to human inclination or circumstances, all
of which are motives of prudence. Malicious and cunning methods are employed
when men’s minds incline toward evil. Thus it is that simulation is a virtue
and also a vice, since the objeCt is the attainment of an end, and the means
must be regarded according to the quality of the end, for deeds take their
impress from the will. Therefore the noblest afts of charity, love, and
benevolence are evil if they are assumed for the purpose of deceiving. So in
all other things.
(409.)
Simulation and dissimulation are always the external form of the mind,
consequently of the body; the internal form which is hidden still remaining.
Dissimulation is a crime if we feign virtues externally, or if we pretend to
have a mind filled with a most perfeft love, for the the purpose of attaining
some very imperfeft end or love; as, for instance, if when our mind is in the
desire of revenge we should feign friendship, or when pitiless, compassion, or
when impious, piety. The vice of simulation is always the greater as the loves
which are represented are better ones. Such pretenders are the world’s aftors,
and the real comedians of the theatre. Simulation and dissimulation become a
virtue if we conceal our good ends while they flow as it were spontaneously
through the means of prudence. Yea, even if we should feign evil things
externally when among evil persons, so long nevertheless as this does not flow
from the inmost, and through their own inclinations should insinuate
ourselves into their minds, still, after becoming friends and brothers worthy
of confidence, their animus can yet be turned [to good].
But this art
cannot be described in its innumerable features, since its methods are
countless, and all unlike.
(410.) It is
to be observed that there is no afleftion of the animus which does not show
itself in the body, either in the face, the aftions, by gesture, or by speech,
and even in the very eyes. The art of simulation consists chiefly in this,
that the countenance and external forms differ from the internal, and we assume
an expression which fits the contrary afleftion ; then also that we produce
from the intelleft reasons which are confirmatory, so that the expression may
be believed to be genuine.
(411.) From
these things it follows that to the intellect is given the power and the right
of commanding the will of the mind, but not the mind itself. For the mind rules
universally in the will, but the intellect favoring it admits and connects the
means which tend to that end which the mind continually contemplates ; so that
there can be one change of the state of the ideas of the intellect and another
of the will, and so separated may they be that one may remain after the other
is changed ; for a change of state is one thing and a concourse of expansion
determined to certain sensories is another.
Cunning and Malice.
(412.) Cunning
exists when the ends of evil are attained craftily under the appearance of
good, as under a pretence of honesty, of virtue, of public safety, of religion,
Or by semblance of some kind of love for others, or through some deception by
which we flatter the cupidities or wishes of another, and this knowingly and
with intention. The cunning is the greater if the end itself, even though it be
depraved, is veiled over by something like to the above, and appears to some
minds as a thing to be approved, which is done by an intellectual colouring
making the affair to appear comely. Sometimes this becomes the genius of an
entire age, and it prevails among republics and kingdoms whose officers are
praised in the degree that they deceive others with more subtle arts while
nevertheless a semblance of .honesty remains. For cunning never regards any end
as terminable or ultimate, but ohly as a means. It would be much too prolix to
enumerate the various arts it practices. It prevails among minor societies,
between individual associates, and a perfect friendship itself is often used
as its guise. The very crafty man is a friend to no one but himself, and he
loves himself best of all. This is at this day termed prudence, while others
term it sincerity or simplicity.
(413.) Malice
however exists when no virtue is feigned, but when one does evil from nature
itself, in the absence of all virtue and honesty, and pretends that it would be
acting against nature if one did not a6t contrary to the better conscience.
Thus such a one is touched by no shame for crime committed, and by no fear of
punishment. The wicked man is one who knows, at the same time that he hates,
truths and virtues. The cunning man does not hate virtues, but prefers his own
depraved loves to virtue ; and he gradually convinces himself that his vices
are virtues, and he strengthens his conscience by carefully chosen arguments ;
since habit and all exercises of the brain lead on the animus and make the
changes of the rational mind to seem like natural ones.
Sincerity,
(414.)
Sincerity is the opposite of simulation and feigning, inasmuch as it speaks
what it thinks. Sincerity may exist in both the good and the evil. There may be
a praiseworthy sincerity even when the inclinations are evil, because it is a
token of a truth misunderstood, or of a mind not intending to deceive. Such a
one may be the friend of all. It grows out of the principle that feigning is a
vice, or from a principle of honesty, or else from the habit of not wearing a
false face. It is never admitted as a trusted friend in the company of the
wicked.
Justice and Equity.
(415.) Our
intellect not only arranges in order, thinks, and meditates, but it also judges
and concludes, or in particular instances is governed by judgment and decision
; but still the intclledl is governed by the mind and its desires, which cause
that desirable motives be insinuated more readily into the judgment than those
which are distasteful. Since therefore there are as many judgments because
there are as many wills and desires as there are minds, it follows that the
minds themselves are unable to a<St in the midst of so many decisions. In
order, therefore, that there may be some one to judge more truly than others,
there must be justice. Thus it must exist among many when they themselves
disagree, and it must appertain to every thing which ever comes into our
thought.
(416.) Thus in
all things where form, order, laws exist, in oneself and his mind, in larger
and smaller societies, and in kingdoms, there are constant discussions, litigations
and controversies, whence result civil and natural laws, jurisprudence, judges,
kings, magistrates, and other institutions. Also in the sciences, all things
are employed in disputing concerning what is good and truth, and each person
is drawn into the opinion to which his mind and animus carry him ; and if the
mind were not ruled by the animus and its desires man would know from himself
what is just and equal, and a perpetual harmony would rule. Ignorance,
persuasion, and presumption pervert minds, as also do political artifices ;
but were there no self-love there would be no need of a code of justice.
(417.) Since,
therefore, there exists that which is true and good and just in itself, this is
perfect in God, who is truth itself, goodness itself, and justice itself. The
conscience also dictates justice. Lest therefore any one should a6t contrary
to his better conscience, and do what is unjust, and so destroy the commonwealth
and himself, he is subjected to a public punishment as to his body or possessions,
or he is hindered by misfortunes permitted by Providence, or by the pangs of
conscience, or fears in regard to his soul and eternity. All these things
restrain the mind lest it should rush headlong into all manner of crimes; and
for this reason there are punishments for the abolition and extirpation of
evil.
(418.) Equity
truly corresponds to equilibrium in nature ; when the natural equilibrium is
disturbed, disordered motion takes place, and nature is as it were confounded,
and each thing awkwardly stirs up, adts upon, and destroys its neighbour. Hence
by the more perfedt and purer forces which are within they are reduced again to
their equilibrium. So likewise in our body and in human society, when
dissensions are adjusted we call it a state of equity, or as it were of
equilibrium, each one rendering to another that which is his, and taking from
another that which is not his, etc.
Knowledge ; Intelligence ; Wisdom.
(419.) We have
a knowledge \scientia\ of all those things which are in any manner
insinuated into and held by the memory. These are usually insinuated
immediately by way of the senses ; especially by the senses of sight and
hearing. It also is acquired through teachers and through books containing all
the sciences of things; also by one’s own reflection and the discovery of some
new truth or principle, which is termed the offspring of ingenuity; therefore
he is a scientific man, a doCtor, or one of the learned, who is acquainted with
many sciences, experiments, and histories, and can rehearse all these. He is
believed to be intelligent; but these two things do not always go together. A
very little child can be among the most knowing, because it can repeat whole
books by memory, when nevertheless it does not follow that it is intelligent.
Knowledge has to be acquired by mankind ; with beasts it is connate, but is not
reproduced in like manner. Not only can material things be retained in the
memory but also things purely intellectual, as of philosophy and the
deductions [of logic], many of which can be reduced into one, and so forth ;
and thus the memory can be filled with all things.
(420.) Intelligence
is the being able to reduce the things of memory into perfeCt order and into
perfeCt forms, thence to draw forth truths, to scrutinize hidden things, and to
conclude as to present things from the past, that is, to be a philosopher as it
were from birth. There are many parts of philosophy and physics into which one
penetrates from the things of the memory from his own intellect. As he has
penetrated and from himself through reflection possesses many truths in his
memory he is intelligent; for in the intelled concur the pure intelleCtory
and a certain superior natural principle such as will instruCt the very ideas
of the memory to rightly consoci- ate, that is, to co-ordinate and subordinate
themselves into their proper forms ; and in this principle there is present of
itself all science universally. Without this there would be no intellect, that
is, without a natural logic, dialectics, topics, grammar, mechanics, acoustics,
optics, etc. For with everyone there is inborn a certain natural law ; only the
particular ideas are wanting which this law may reduce to order. The more apt
one is in making these deductions from himself (for the difference in this
regard is immense), in that degree is he the more intelligent. There are very
many persons who only feign intelligence, in that they pass off, for their own,
numerous intellectual things which they have acquired from doCtrine, and also
the conceptions and discoveries of others. There are also those who cannot
become intelligent owing to their want of a knowledge of things, or their
ignorance; for these wander as it were in darkness, but still they exhibit a
gift of ingenuity in those things which they do know. The intellect always
increases with age, and is called judgment, or the possession of a mature
judgment; a great many differences occur in its development, for a man can be
intelligent in one line of study and not in another. It is rarely that a man is
intelligent in all things; however, it may be only application that is wanting. 4
Wisdom.
(421.) He is
wise who in all things has regard to an end, chooses the best, enjoys properly
his own liberty, embracing those things which ought to embraced, and shunning
those which ought to be shunned. The wise man is always honest, or a lover of
all that is virtuous. He considers himself as a part of the whole, he imposes
obligations on himself from a sense of duty, he subjugates the animus and
suffers the pure mind to aft. The wise man loves corporeal and worldly things
for the sake of uses as means ; in other respefts and in their abuse he
despises them. The wise man loves intelligence as a means, but otherwise or if
it leads the mind into error he hates it. Intelligence and wisdom are rarely
conjoined so long as intelligence is very imperfeft and erroneous, excusing the
follies of the insane mind, and justifying an obedience to bodily desires, for
this takes away wisdom. The wisest of men is he who loves his neighbour as himself,
society as many selves, and God more than himself, and according to this
direfts his aftions, which are regarded as means. So far as he departs from
this rule so far does he depart from wisdom. The wise man is known not from his
speech but from the direftion of his life. A rustic can be wiser than the
greatest philosopher, for wisdom is divine, while intelligence called
philosophy is human, and it frequently happens that the one recedes and
diminishes in the degree that the other advances and grows. It is the wise
alone who are truly loved by sincere men and by God ; to these does the Divine
providence open a way of ascent. There are those who are wise in nature, like
those who have a native sense of honour ; some are wise from experience, and
some from their intelleft, if by the intelleft wisdom has inspired
intelligence, and intelligence in its turn wisdom. Wisdom is therefore a
faculty of the mind, and not of the pure intelleft.
Causes
changing the state of the Intellect and the Rational Mind, or Perverting and
Perfecting Causes.
(422.) There
are connate causes which derive their origin from the state of the soul itself,
and also from its formation in the maternal womb. There are acquired causes, as
from negleCt of cultivation. There are causes originating in the animus, and
some, finally, in the body. But the mind is variously affeCted respectively as
to knowledge, intelligence, or wisdom.
(423.) Connate
causes are those which flow from the soul itself. This is because the soul
of the progeny is derived from the soul of the parent, whose nature is transferred
into the progeny. No wholly similar state of the soul is given to the state of
another. The soul constructs its own organism after its own image ; so also
does it form the nature of the rational mind or its faculty, which is the
reason why children are so much like their parent in animus, and why frequently
the grandfather is reproduced in the grandson. The soul of every one is a spiritual
form, and the loves of the mind itself are spiritual. But the difference [of
persons] consists in this, that what one loves another hates. The soul of a
divine nature loves the celestial society and God, but the soul of a diabolical
nature hates the celestial society and God. Thus are the loves opposite in the
soul itself, and as often as the spiritual mind flows into the sphere of the
rational mind, it follows that contrary loves are insinuated ; thus some are
born for wisdom, and some for insanity; but this insanity does not prevent the
mind from being highly intelligent, and becoming scientific, erudite, and
learned, even to knowing better than others what wisdom is, while it is at the
same time held in aversion. For all are born to intelligence, but not all to
wisdom. Those who are born to wisdom are called the eleCt, or chosen ones.
(424.) Causes
connate through formation in the maternal womb.—The soul itself is from the parent,
or [rather] the inmost determination of that human form which afterwards is
procreated or conceived in its own remarkable manner. For the soul is
introduced immediately by the parent with its pure intelledtory, in which
similar substances are procreated in order, and the mother furnishes in the
ovum every external form for the use of the soul, and supplies all that the
liquors should contain ; and because the maternal sensories communicate most
closely with the embryo it follows that the child may assume a mixed genius of
the mother and of the father, for while the soul of the father is in the
offspring the animus is of both father and mother. From these things it follows
that according to the accidental and natural mutations of the animus in the
mother the organism itself of the internal sensory can undergo changes. Thus
for example, the memory may be more apt for the reception of objedts or for
knowing them and then understanding them ; for all the faculties depend upon
the form itself, and its relation to those things adjoined, superior and
inferior. Besides, the maternal nutriment, which the embryo imbibes, may be
afifedted by a morbid constitution. Likewise accidents may occur in gestation
itself, as compressions, contusions, and things of such a nature ; or to the
new-born infant through the carelessness of the midwife or nurse ; also through
the milk; or by various accidents, negledl or malice, it may be brought about
that the rational mind cannot be perfedtly developed, or that it inherits some
natural imperfedtion. But whatsoever evil it thus derives is external, and not
an internal vice of the soul itself, which is thus rendered incapable of
operating into its own proximate organs and through these into the more remote.
(425.) Among acquired
causes the chief one is that the mind is not improved, or that it is not
rightly cultivated, thus when itjs not cultivated by knowledges, or when its
cultivation is not in the natural order, those things beirlg’forced upon it to
which it does not naturally incline, or out of their proper succession; also
when the mind is not excited by a love of perfecting itself; for the love or
ambition to excel others in knowledge, intelligence, and wisdom especially
contributes to the perfection of the mind, and in very many this ambition can be
aroused. But, when the mind is not cultivated it remains in the state of its
own ignorance, since without ideas of the memory and imagination the rational
mind will in vain endeavour to develop its own nature and produce its proper
faculty. For the mind is like an artisan who does not know how to work without
instruments ; and the intellect is the principal cause, and the memory and
thence the imagination is the-instrumental cause. Thus in the most illiterate
peasant whose mind is instructed in no science there may be a greater than the
prince of philosophers ; for thus the greatest endowments and the loftiest
genius frequently lie buried in the most obscure minds, and often are by a
singular providence brought into light. In the mean time they appear as dry
sponges, as dregs, and a sterile field overgrown with thorns.
(426.) There
are causes originating in the animus.—It is evident that the animus,
either naturally or by habits, or by some cause, as by misfortune, too
excessive joys, or by bodily disorders, can become diseased and desire things
not desirable, overshadowing the intellect of its own mind, being unwilling to
admit anything which does not flatter this special animus, and rejecting not
only intelligence itself, but also wisdom, and holding them in hatred. Such
believe in everything which agrees with this love. In a word, in as far as the
animus wishes to rule over the pure mind in our rational mind so far it
prevents the mind from becoming perfeCt, since these loves are what distrad and
disturb the mind and make it sick ; neither do they only disturb it, but they
obscure it with a kind of ignorance, just as do pride and haughtiness,
avarice, and other base loves. Hence comes a contempt of the sciences of-
intelligence and of wisdom. The animus also infeCts the.
animal and
sanguinary spirits and diffuses widely its own poison; for the animus
immediately flows into the form of the body, and thence corporeal causes are
aroused, which combined operations destroy the life of the mind.
(427.) Corporeal
causes are many; as the various diseases which affeft the humours,
especially the red and the purer blood, or animal spirit. These diseases are
innumerable, for many diseases pollute the blood. All things causing disease
will therefore cause destruction of the mind, thus bad nutriment, poisons,
drink, and every kind of intemperance, since the vitiated blood draws the
animus apart and consequently the mind ; for the animus naturally depends upon
its own intelleftions and the form of the common intelleftory, but externally
it also depends upon the state of the purer blood or the animal spirit, which
if diseased drives the mind to insanity, even to delirium, but on the blood
being restored to health the mind returns to its normal state. From which it
follows that these changes of state are external and not internal. How this
happens can be demonstrated, for through the sensories or cortical glands, as
from the arterial vessels into the fibres, there 'flows continually the
blood-spirit. Such is the quality of the blood-spirit \spir- itus
sanguinarius\ that if it is too warm, too cold, too thin, too sluggish, too
watery, or mixed with heterogeneous or homogeneous particles, it will remain in
this cavity of the gland, either not flowing in or not flowing out. Then the
sensory is unable to pass through its change of state, and hence it can produce
nothing from its memory, it can neither imagine nor think. Besides, it can be
excited internally as well as externally into absurd and irregular motions by
heterogeneous causes, whence come deliriums. Similar things take place in
burning fevers, in apoplexy, epileptic fits, paralytic strokes, in catalepsy,
tarantismus, loss of memory in catarrhal disorders, and other troubles. These
are the ordinary bodily causes. There are also extraordinary causes which
injure the cerebrum itself and thus the common sensory or the external form of
the sensory, as inflicted wounds, water on the brain, inward tumours, and
innumerable like things, some of which can be cured and others not. That the
reasoning power of the mind, or the human intelleft, and likewise the
afifeftions undergo at the same time noticeable changes, is confirmed by daily
experience.
(428.) From
these causes which diminish or destroy the executive faculty of the mind it can
be judged what are the causes which perfeft the same faculty, for from an
examination of particulars a knowledge of contraries flows. In the meantime,
this care is most incumbent upon us, that there should be a sound mind in a
sound bodyy or that the body and the animus should only be so
indulged that the mind shall always remain sane.
XXI.
The
Spiritual Loves, or the Loves of the Soul.
(429.) That we
may know of what kind are the affections and loves of the rational mind it is
necessary that we consider not only the affeCtions of the animus, concerning
which we have just now treated, but also the loves of the supereminent
affeCtions of the soul ; these are called superior, the former inferior ; the
latter spiritual, and the former purely natural or corporeal. Because the
rational mind does not possess any loves of its own, but is obliged to be ruled
and drawn here and there, either by spiritual or superior loves of the soul or
by the corporeal inferior loves of the animus, therefore it is necessary that
we know what and of what nature are the loves of the soul, or rather of our
spiritual mind, for thence flow the virtues and vices which are the essential
determinations of the human mind.
(430.) All
loves of the soul, which may be called the eminent or spiritual affeCtions, are
universal, and they embrace in themselves in minutest particulars, in potency,
all the affeCtions in general which are able to exist specially and in a part.
From a certain universal love as if from their own fountain head flow all
special and particular loves like brooks. They cannot manifest themselves in
any place except in the animus and the mind, in which they are determined into
certain genera or certain species, all of which look to a certain universal
love in the soul, from which when they descend as streams they are on the way
liable to be defiled by imperfections which are adjoined to nature, and so they
scarcely know that they are derived from so pure a fount. The animus derives
its power of desiring or of loving from its own soul; but the power of loving
in one manner and not in another it derives from its form, as also from its
connection with the soul by means of the rational mind. Therefore the effort of
almost all science is to be able to subordinate particular under special Joves,
and these under general ones, or to arrange them into their own classes, and to
perceive in what manner they flow from universal or spiritual loves: this is
the true psychological and pneumatic science.
(431.) All
souls are purely spiritual forms, thus all their minds and loves are purely
spiritual, whether they are good or evil; for the spirit, whether it be good or
evil, is nevertheless purely a spirit, or purely a mind, and it has loves
purely spiritual, that is, universal, in which are contained the principles of
the inferior and purely natural loves. The good angel, as the evil angel or
devil, is purely a spirit, and the loves of both are purely spiritual, with
this difference, that what the good spirit purely loves is contrary to what an
evil spirit loves, or is what he is said to hate ; for there exist pure love
and pure hate, which are purely contrary loves. Thus there are spiritual loves
good and evil, but they are all universal, superior, and belong to the soul,
and are most perfectly good or evil. But because good and evil, .as truth and
falsity, are opposites, and in one subjeCt there may exist a mixture of good
and evil, and truth and falsity, owing to that mixture, in accordance with the
received habit of speaking, that which is not purely good is called impure, or
that which is purely evil very impure; so love is pre-eminently known as the
love of good, although there is a love of evil which from its own nature is
conjoined with the hatred of good. But lest we may produce confusion of ideas
in the following parts, we propose to use the expression the mind and the
purely spiritual love> but not the pure mind or the pure spiritual
love ; for on account of acquired
ideas we are
scarcely able to discern that that is impure which is not purely good or purely
true. StriCtly speaking, all that is impure which is mixed with imperfections
below itself, so that the human rational mind is never pure.
The love of a Being
above Oneself
(432.) The
first and supreme spiritual love or love of the soul, and the most universal,
is the love of a Being above oneself, from whom it has derived its essence, and
perpetually does derive it, in which, through which, and on account of which
Being, it is and lives. This love is the first of all, because nothing can
exist and subsist from itself except God, who exists in himself, and alone Is
Who Is. Because the soul feels this in itself that supreme love is innate in
it, and thus the very divine love is in us.
(433.) There
exists a purely contrary love, yet it is spiritual and supreme, or a pure
hatred of Divine power or of a being above self; this love is called diabolic.
From this we may recognize of what quality good love is, and from the good of
what quality the evil is, for there exist infinitely different mediate loves.
This love is called the love of evil, the evil mind itself, such as is the mind
of certain souls ; for the soul of no one is absolutely similar to that of
another, nor ought it to be similar, that there may be a society of souls, and
the most perfeCt form of a society. The evil spirit or the diabolic mind even
feels in itself that there is a Being above itself, from which it has derived
its own essence ; that that Being is to be loved above self, and the love to be
testified by adoration. But although it recognizes, nevertheless it disdains
and envies it, and rebels against its own consciousness, and hates the very
truth that it is so ; and thus it loves self above that Being, whence there is
a perpetual incurable hatred, such that he would wish to destroy himself a
thousand times if only at the same time he could destroy that superior Being
both without himself and in himself, which cannot be destroyed. The conscience
of such a mind is in anguish when it is doing nothing contrary to the better
conscience, and it so aCts because it hates the truth most deeply and from its
very nature, and would perpetually love to destroy it. There are certain
rational minds which seem to be images of this spiritual mind ; may such not be
the state of their soul ?
The love of
a Friend as Oneself
(434.) The
love of a friend as oneself, or where there exists a love of another equal to
that of oneself, is a spiritual love, for the soul or spiritual mind recognizes
another soul and mind as an associate, and one of a society or divine kingdom
; this flows from the nature of things, as well as from the first or most
eminent of all loves.
(435.) From
nature: One or a part by itself is as if nothing unless it has relation to
many things with which it is; thence exist a certain form of such things and
the affections of form. There is no harmony unless it is of many united, and by
virtue of the manner in which these are united among themselves ; thus there is
no felicity of souls unless of many together, no form and conjunction unless
through love ; and through love of another as oneself, whatever is in another
is communicated to oneself and appropriated as one’s own. Thence results a
multiplied felicity of all, which is concentrated in each one.
(436.) From
Divine love: Whoever loves a friend as himself does not do so on account of
the friend, but for the image of himself in that friend, and when the love is
reciprocal, on account of the image of that one in himself, so that that one
becomes a participant of that love and of the thence resulting felicity ; and
thus the harmonv of all the friends who constitute the whole society may
transcribe its joy and happiness into oneself, and from oneself, in whom the
idea of the whole is concentrated, into each and thus into all. By this means
a felicity beyond all power to describe, an inmost, even a Divine felicity, is
excited. And since that love is not towards self, or society principally, but
towards a Being above self, to whom one is united by love, one loves the friend
through love towards Him with whom he desires to be united, and who resides
inmostly in the friend. This su- pereminent or Divine love, which extends
itself to the universal society of souls, and pours out that very felicity
from its own essence, can not help producing this as its first effect, that
one loves that companion who, like oneself, also is loved by the Divine, so
that they can not otherwise be united than by a conjoined love towards Him who
loves both with His own love. Wherefore that very conjunction resulting from
love descends solely from a common love of a superior, which is the common
universal and hence the particular bond of all. Spiritual love towards a companion
extends itself so far as not to hate even a devil, but the evil which is in
him, and if he were curable he would love him, but as it is he only pities him.
Therefore the most universal spiritual love is the love of a Being above
oneself; from this descends the love towards a friend, for the individual loves
of friends are united by a supreme love, and from this they are derived. These
individual loves taken together constitute that universal love which is
divine.
(437.) There
is a contrary love, spiritual as well as natural, or a pure hatred of others
and love of oneself alone. This love is diabolical, and it follows naturally
from the hatred towards a superior or God. Whatever joins the minds of friends
this disjoins, for those impelled by it seek to cast down that superior beneath
themselves, and they cast Him down in themselves, consequently all those who
are His and are in Him whom they judge inferior to themselves. It declares
itself rather their god regarding itself as the universal or as omnipotent, or
of such a quality in itself as God is, consequently all things which subsist
from God as subject to itself. Wherefore these do not love their companions
unless they agree with their projects and are minded as themselves, not from
love, but from a likeness of will to accomplish an end. But because there is no
universal or superior hatred by which the minds of those who hate may be
conjoined there is no regulated society, but one is armed against the other,
for they have their very essences in hatred, and all that they love is vice.
Thus in this same hatred remain their soul and life, and one rushes to the
destruction of another and tortures another. These results follow as simple consequences.
From these statements it is manifest of what kind the intermediate love is, for
there are infinite differences between the pure love and the pure hatred of
those who are associated.
To love Society as many Selves.
(438.) The
love of many, of society, of country, of the human race, is not above that of
self in the ratio in which is love towards God, but it is greater than that of
self in an arithmetical or geometrical ratio or proportion ; it becomes so by
simple addition or multiplication ; in an arithmetical ratio if love increases
according to number, in a geometrical one if according to number and the
greater and smaller societies, while at the same time their sums increase. But
love is elevated above self, as an inferior power is to a higher power ; for
example, as a root is related to its fourth power or cube ; so that while the
love itself may be almost as nothing, respectively, still it becomes something
according to the number of those who are loved and who are able to love.
Therefore love of the neighbour as oneself supposes a multiplication of love
respectively, in the degree that the society is numerous. Nevertheless the increase
of love is wholly from the same cause, for in the degree that it is more
universal there is reciprocally a greater sensation of love in oneself, and of
felicity thence resulting, since all its delights increase in the same degree.
This love, however, being spiritual, does not concern terrestrial society, but
the celestial society of souls; it is not of the mind but of the soul, and
thence it is pure for, since it is of this quality, pure truth is in it.
(439.) The
contrary love, or pure hatred, increases in a similar ratio towards its many
objects, thus it takes place in an analogous arithmetical or geometrical ratio
; indeed as opposed to the Divine will in a double and triplicate ratio. It is
not therefore necessary to describe this more fully. Such is diabolical hatred.
It is not love of one’s own society, but of evil alone, which never intimately
associates minds, because there is nothing above which is a common bond ; hence
the one aims at the eternal destruction of the other, for each one numbers the
other among those who are evil, and because the very truth they know conviCts
those, hence it affords a reason why they are not to be loved, and why they
deserve punishment.
The love of being
Near the One loved.
(440.) The
love of being near to God who is loved is the most eminently spiritual love,
for it is in the very nature of love itself. Hence when there is pure love
there is nothing of the love of being above one’s companions, that is, no love
contrary to the love for a friend. With this contrary love pure love has
nothing in common. It does not reflect upon itself; but should it do so, lest
there should come a desire of precedence over one’s friend it would assign
itself the lowest place of all. But God Himself is the One who exalts, and thus
the love to be nearest to the beloved can exist without any desire of eminence
; wherefore it pertains immediately to the love of God, but not to the love of
the neighbour as oneself. Then indeed the love of self wholly vanishes, and
there arises a sort of contempt of self, on seeing oneself to be near to God
and yet so infinitely distant from Him and to be almost nothing. Through Him
alone has he any being, and the more in the degree that he is nearer to Him.
When there exists this pure love, together with a love towards the neighbour,
then there is an absence of jealousy if another is nearer to Him, and superior
to himself; for then he loves the superior so much the more because he is
nearer to God whom he himself loves. But indeed, if he does not look solely to
love towards God, but regards also his own happiness, eminence, or love of
self, then the love is not pure but mingled with jealousy. Envy ever
presupposes something of love of self, of eminence among equals, and always
reveals that it is so far distant from the love towards God.
(441.) The
love of being remote from God, who is Love itself, is the effeft of diabolical
hatred itself, conjoined with the greatest jealousy if one witnesses the
success of another’s kingdom or society ; thus one is stimulated by envy to
prevent his neighbour’s enjoying success, and his hatred is rendered most
intense. But indeed, when he sees his neighbour’s success assured and is not
able to further resist it, then this hatred is turned into the last degree of
envy and fury, as much against self as against the neighbour. In this seems to
consist infernal torment.
The love of
being Eminent in Happiness, in Power, and in Wisdom.
(442.) The
love of eminence in happiness is never a divine love, although it be spiritual,
for in so far as a person loves his own happiness instead of the happiness of
others, so far he loves himself more than others, and thus so far he removes
himself from those two fundamental loves of the first [source of love] and
becomes more unhappy. To love God and the neighbour for the sake of one’s own
happiness is for one’s own sake, thus it is not pure love; but to love God for
His own sake, because He is Love itself, and to love the neighbour for God’s
sake because this is His love, and because any other love is the love of self,
is pure love. But to love chiefly on account of the effeft of love is contrary
to order itself, for happiness flows of itself as an effeft from these two
loves ; and pure love does not look to effeft but to Love itself, abstraftly
from effeft.
(443.) The
love of surpassing others in power is similiar to the love of excelling in
happiness, for one involves the other, as we always suppose there is happiness
in power. This love of eminence discloses a love of self instead of others,
such as the love of ruling always is, thus it is still less divine, although it
be spiritual.
(444.) The
love of being eminent in wisdom is similar. To strive after wisdom is a virtue,
but to do so for the sake of being eminent through wisdom is a vice; for wisdom
itself, like happiness and power, is a necessary consequent of the love of God
above self. So that to love happiness, power, and wisdom chiefly is to prefer
them to God, or to love God less than self, or equally with self. This indeed
is not a diabolical love, for the devil does not love or desire to love and
adore God for any end which is the necessary consequent of love, but he
entirely hates Him. Wherefore this seems to be the love of human souls after
the fall of Adam, thus it is in our souls, and indicates their perverse state
; yet we ought, nevertheless, to recover that pristine state, and both by
prayer and the grace of God we are even able to strive for this end with our
own powers.
(445.) The
love of eminence conjoined with hatred towards God and the neighbour is
diabolical, nor can it exist without the love of self above others, or spurious
ambition, avarice, inhumanity, and many other vices or crimes. It especially
manifests itself in the love of power over others ; the desire to be able to be
over others is the desire to be more than man, thus to be equal to God. It
loves these means as an end, for instance, honour, riches, possessions, which
affedlions go on increasing and never terminate, for they aspire to the
infinite, and believe themselves at the last to have reached something
infinite, although it will be as far distant as the finite from the infinite,
should they have become possessed of the universe itself. The happiness to
which such a one aspires is supposed to be in power itself and to be
refletSted by it upon him, but because [his love] comes from a source contrary
to felicity, he becomes the more unhappy.
(446.) This
love is contrary to wisdom, because it is contrary to God, who is love and
wisdom, therefore it is hatred of wisdom and also hatred of the true
intelligence which dictates wisdom, of which nature is the love of those in the
desire of ruling. These do not love wisdom on account of wisdom, but that by
this means they may better rule over human minds, which power they esteem as
wisdom. . Except for this they would desire all wisdom to be extinguished, and
wish that the dark ages might return.
I
The lave of
Propagating the Celestial Society by natural means.
(447.) The
love of propagating celestial society is spiritual ; for example, the love of
multiplying the members of society. This love is greater than the love of self,
because it is on a plane with the love toward society, since the soul knows
that that society cannot be propagated unless by natural means, for instance
by generation, therefore of itself it burns in this desire, which is the
reason why venereal love is so vehement an affection of the animus. Spiritual
love thus descends into nature, where the means are provided. But that this
love, although made corporeal, may indeed remain spiritual in the mind, it is
a pure and commendable love when it regards heaven for an end, and the increase
of its society. There is in this love a love of multiplying oneself, for it
does not consider the offspring as separated or disjoined from self, but it
considers self together with the offspring, as self multiplied.
(448.) But
indeed, the contrary love or love of destroying the propagation of society
cannot exist, not even in the Devil, for he loves his own society, and hates
the divine ; hence he eagerly desires the increase of members of his society
that it may prevail. It is for this reason, I believe, that God gave so great
power to the Devil, and united so great a society to him, that the love of
propagation may not cease, even in diabolical souls. The love of destruction,
or cruelty, reveals a hatred which is so supreme that it rebels against the
love of self, thus that it desires to be cruel against self, and wishes for the
destruction of the universe. Thus in the human race there can exist a hatred
that surpasses diabolical hatred.
(449.) The
love of one’s body is not to be confounded with the love of self. Every one
loves his body because it is in connection with the soul, for the sake of
propagation and multiplication in it of the soul, for [the soul] is
continually conceived and multiplied. From this love flows the love of
nourishing oneself, the sense of taste, also the love of protecting oneself
from the surrounding vapours, whence is the sense of smell, also sight, and
even pain when force and injury are infliCted upon the body. Without this love
the ends and loves before-mentioned could not be obtained. Every one can love
his body, and nevertheless love his neighbour as himself; for if he loves his
neighbour as himself then he loves the body on account of the love of self,
and at the same time on account of the love towards society. While he does not
therefore hate his body, still he is willing that it should be destroyed for
the sake of society, rather than that society should perish, and finitely for
God’s sake would prefer this. Celestial society is one body, whose soul is God
himself. Because one loves God and this celestial body he does not love himself
and his own body otherwise than [as] a part of that society, or for the sake of
his being a constitutive part.
(450.) Hatred
of one’s body cannot exist, unless in so far as it [the body] is not in
connection with its soul, and does not obey when the mind commands; for this
very love is a connection [of body and soul], but hatred is disjunction. So an
artist does not love an instrument if it is not adapted to his use.
However, when
we love anything more than self, whether the love be genuine or not, as love of
glory, fame, envy, riches, venery, then we prefer that love to the love of our
corporeal life, but still we do not hate the latter. We love the body in so far
as it is a means of obtaining that which is loved, and in so far as it is that
which through the mind feels love. Thus when death is risked for love it is not
a hatred of life, but an indication that one desires that love may live. When,
however, one is cut off from a hope of superior love, then he falls into the
hatred of living in the body, and there is a desperation and insanity of the
mind, for without that love he thinks that to live is not to live, or but to
live in misery ; and thus he desires his own extinction. But such an insane
love or hatred of self is never conjoined with genuine and truly spiritual love,
such as the love of Deity, of friends, of propagating society; therefore it is
as contrary to the essence of true love as it is to wisdom, these two being
very closely joined.
(451.) The
love of immortality is a spiritual love, and coincides with the love of God and
of society; for the spiritual life is to be nearer to God, who is Life itself
and by whom all things live ; but it is spiritual death to be remote from Him.
Still that death is not extinction of essence, but is the extinction and
privation of love to which true life belongs, just as a dark surface is not the
extinction of light but is a suffocation which cannot exist without light.
Hence it appears that the love of immortality is not that of living to
eternity, but of living well and happily; for the soul knows that it is to be
immortal, hence it does not love its own immortality so far as this is assured
; since all love presupposes a change and the possibility of a contrary, and
otherwise it is no longer love. Therefore love perishes in those things which
cannot be otherwise that they are. But the love of immortality appertains to
those things which may be mortal or immortal, such as the exercise of love,
charity, honour, virtue. These are all spiritually loved in order that they
may be immortal in oneself, since the mind or the soul is the subject of these
loves, and they may or may not exist in it. Since, moreover, these are the
means of meriting the favour of the Supreme Love, the soul loves these as means
and also as an end, not on account of self that it may be eminent among its
associates, but for the love of Deity, and in order that there may be that in
itself which it can communicate with its fellows to make the bond of love
between them more close and binding. In this way it is better able to attach
society to itself and itself to society.
(452.) There
is also a hatred of immortality; but not that which is absolutely such so long
as some hope of happiness remains ; thus not in the Devil even, until after the
last judgment, when all hope is gone, and the happiness of the blessed becomes
manifestly the source of pain.
Thus there is a possible
love of immortality in the vicious and criminal, inmostly resulting from the
love of self, but the love of the immortality of vices arises when vices are
esteemed as virtues or when there is something in vice which savours of virtue.
Besides, all love of immortality perishes in vices, and brings with itself a
doubt regarding all immortality, and at length a denial. These are the effects
of impiety.
(453.) Zeal is the active
and ardent principle in the above-mentioned loves, by which they are not only
excited to loving but also to promoting the means»for obtaining the end, and so
some spiritual zeal is present in every love. For love in itself is not active
except in the degree in which it is also passive, thus without zeal there is nothing
in love proper to the subject in which the love resides. The zeal itself is the
property of the spiritual soul, and it arises or is born and excited only by
contraries. Thus without the actual existence of a contrary, or without the
devil or contrary souls, there could be no zeal, but it would be a nonentity.
Zeal is accordingly excited according to the degree of the assailing or the
repugnant force, and it sets itself against its opponent as its enemy. Thus the
stronger the diabolical society is, the greater is the zeal of the celestial
society; and with the devil extinct this would also entirely subside. Thus
there would be no kindling of minds, no anger of the animus, except from really
exciting opponents. Zeal is in itself a love excited to a superior degree in
order that it may equal the opposing force which it desires to extingiush.
(454.) There is also a
zeal in hatred, and indeed fierce and deadly, thus a rage and an impure burning
fire. The anger therefore proceeds not from the zeal but from the hatred, and
is turned into fury ; but true zeal never degenerates into anger, but is a
mild and gentle fire, inwardly but not outwardly glowing. Thus it has been
demonstrated both in spiritual and natural things that zeal or a righteous
displeasure is able to extinguish the furies and tempestuous angers themselves,
or that one good soul is able to put down thousands and myriads of bad souls
and devils. For the Devil does not ignore the truth, but hates it; still
because he knows that it is the truth which he hates he cannot help fearing the
truth itself from a certain inmost essence, because it is stronger than
himself. Thus one good angel is sufficient to cast down a thousand devils, for
they fly at the first blow, as those who are tormented by an evil conscience.
This fear is innate; while in others there is no fear but only the zeal which
belongs to bravery.
The love of Propagating
the Kingdom and City of God.
(455.) This
is a spiritual love, and flows immediately from the love of God and of society,
but is excited and grows in zeal according to the degree of the opposition met.
The kingdom of God is the celestial society of souls itself, the city of God
being the terrestrial, which is the seminary of the celestial. This love of
propagating the city of God or the Church is the mind and spirit of our
religion, and all the means of propagating this religion are subject to this
love. •
(456.) But the love of
destroying the Church is diabolical, and its kingdom is on this earth. It is
the contrary of true religion. This subject would be too comprehensive for
discussion here.
The derivation of
Corporeal from Spiritual Loves, and their concentration in the Rational Mind.
(457.) From comparing
loves together, the spiritual and the corporeal for instance, it becomes
evident enough that spiritual loves are the fountains of all corporeal loves ;
consequently that no corporeal love can exist unless a spiritual love
pre-exists ; and that the spiritual cannot exist unless there be actually a
heaven or society of blessed souls and a hell or society of infernal souls, for
the one presupposes the other ; as, if you should deny the source you would
also deny the derivatives, and at length you would have to deny the existence
of every affection of the body or the animus, for nothing can exist from
itself, it must flow from some principle to which it universally belongs.
(458.) Now since the spiritual
loves are the sources of the loves of the body or of the animus, so the
particular loves of the body can be deduced like so many special determinations
of a certain spiritual love. For there is an infinite variety of affeCtions of
the animus, but all may be subordinated and arranged in order, so that one may
know from what source they flow. But this subordination cannot be unfolded and
described except in many pages.
(459.) But it may happen
that there is a good spiritual love in the soul, and a bad one in the rational
mind or in the body. Indeed man himself is naturally good, and by use and habit
becomes bad. Therefore as the mind is. not such as is the soul, and still less
the body, therefore it belongs to God alone to judge concerning the soul and
its love. For all the loves, both of the soul and of the animus, are
concentrated in the rational mind, which thus is carried along, not only
according to its own natural inclinations but also according to principles acquired
or intellectually learned. Likewise also is it drawn asunder by the authority
of others, by use, and by the natural seduCtions of the pleasures of the body,
and so another nature is induced upon it. The most universal source [of the
bodily and spiritual loves] is the love of Deity above, and thence the love of
the fellow-man as of oneself.
Pure or Divine Love viewed in itself.
(460.) God is the very
spiritual Esse in all things, and so far as the spiritual Esse
itself is in corporeal things God is that very Esse in those things, so that
in Him we live, move, and have our being. Now so far as God is the Esse itself
in all things, He is the Love itself which cannot but belong to that Esse
which is from itself and yet distinct from itself. For if God essentially
recedes from a created spirit it is no spirit, since that it exists is not a
property of spirit but of Him by whom it is created, in order that it may be.
As we say from analogy, the body is not the\ soul but the soul is the very esse
of the body, so that if the soul departs the body is no longer a body, but
falls to ■decay. Whatever thus belongs to another, as a primitive to its
derivative, must have an unbroken connection with it as to existence and
subsistence ; and if there is connection there is love, which here coincides
entirely with the connection. For love causes that one’s own image may be seen
in another, but according to the degree of derivation, and therefore
imperfectly. Love may therefore be said to belong to him in whom there is an
image of another, not that he loves himself but that he loves in another that
which he wishes to belong to himself or to be conjoined to himself, so that, in
other words, the love may be mutual.
(461.) Hence it appears
that God is love itself, and that we are in so far divine as we mutually love
God, and thus by love draw near to Him. And because God is life itself and
wisdom, it follows that we so far live and are wise as we draw near to God ;
hence love is the very bond itself, the life, and the wisdom. By love and this
connection all those things are in us more perfeCHy ; and so far as we remove
from it so far are these in us imperfeCtly, and indeed so imperfeCHy that they
can hardly be said to be in us. Therefore the most absolute and universal
source of all loves is the love of Deity toward us, and our mutual love to the
God above us, which must be a love capable of being infinite, while our love of
ourselves ought to be considered, when compared with that super- eminent love,
as the finite compared with the infinite. This infinite love is not possible,
it is true, in our souls which are finite, but by the mercy of the love of God
toward us it is possible that our love may be exalted even to an indefinite
degree.
XXII.
The
Influx of the Animus and its Affections into the Body, and of the Body into the
Animus.
(462.) It is well known to
every one that our animus so flows in into the form of our body that it finds
its form as it were in it. We may judge from the countenance itself what is the
general state of the animus, or what its inclination is, sometimes also as to
what are the special states of the animus, or its affections ; and when these
affeCtions exist they present themselves visibly, not only in the countenance
but also in the eyes, in speech, in single gestures, and aCtions. Thus anger,
vengeance, pride, hatred, love, and other affeCtions are recognized by nature’s
speech alone ; for what that form is which is superinduced upon the
substantial form of the body we do not learn by any rules of art. Thus the
animus, which is the general form whose affeCtions are so many essential
determinations, is aCtually inscribed upon us, and it is the countenance itself
in its particulars which is varied ac- • cording to our inclination to this
rather than to that special desire or animus ; also it writes itself there in
time, as when a new inclination is acquired through use and habit. The animus
also flows in into the blood and the animal spirit itself, and thus into the
particular forms of the internal organs. For it renders the bloods precisely
conformable to itself, since anger excites the bile and disturbs the
particular humours ; envy retains these in the blood, whence arises the bluish
colour then apparent; pride expands the organs, and ereCls the nerves and
muscles, and
clarifies the blood, at
the same time that it draws around it the clouds that it may be easily shaded.
So with the other affections which flow into the particular organic substances
of the body, and at the same time into the humours.
(463.) It cannot,
therefore, be denied but that the form of the formed body is the image of the
animus, and that the animus in its first formation, even in the womb, is itself
the form of its own soul ; hence that the body, as to the expression both of
the face and of the actions, is the image, type, and pattern of the soul or
spiritual mind by means of the animus. For the mind first forms its animus, or
it may be the soul its pure intelleCtory whose general mind is what is called
the animus, and then flows in into the body before the body is able to flow in
into its animus.
(464.) How this takes
place can also be demonstrated ; but the demonstration itself demands an
intimate knowledge of the internal organs of the sensories, a knowledge of
forms in general and in particular, and of the influx of the spiritual mind
into nature. For this is manifest, that nature is universally subjeCt to a
spiritual mind, as an instrumental cause to its principal, or as an instrument
to the artificer, so that the whole world of nature, from a certain necessity,
and thus spontaneously, assents to the rule of mind. Thus also the mind rules
in the body formed, in order that the body and its muscles may exhibit every
quality, as if not of its own power, but as of the mind as ruling. Since,
.accordingly, all the simple fibres and those thence composed spring from the
intel- leCtories and internal sensories of the brain, and there is nothing in
the body which has to do with the form except the fibre which forms it, hence
it must follow that all that affeCtion of the intelleCtories and sensories of
the brain is diffused by continuous fibres into the entire body; for there is a
continuous connection of all from their origins and principles.
(465.) The animus is
accordingly so inscribed upon the form of its body, or is so related to that
form, as an internal is to an external form. That the form is internal has
been shown above. Every internal form has its proper external form, that is,
its figure, which is the limit or common terminus of its essential
determinations ; and if it be natural for the internal to correspond to the external
form it follows of necessity that the countenance shall indicate what the
animus wills, for the countenance is the external form of the animus, and thus
there are as many expressions as there are viscera and parts. It follows that
the animus cannot help flowing in into its own body ; but that it may dissemble
and deceive is a faculty derived from the rational mind, which is able to
command the animus itself; of which subject we shall treat further on.
(466.) On the other hand,
experience also shows that the affections, changes, and diseases of the body
are so likely to flow into the animus that in the course of time they will
alter and transmute the state of its affeCtions. For a fever, whether burning
or otherwise, often excites the animus into unusual emotions, griefs, and
passions, frequently rousing a mild nature to anger and rendering it morose. It
is known from medical experience that gout and paralysis produce mental
affeCtions, so that from the changes of the animus are [conversely] constructed
prognostic and diagnostic signs, phenomena, and symptoms. The gall-bladder, or
the bile outside of the vessel, being excited by any cause, the lesser-and
the greater channels being obstructed, the animus will experience an ardour and
burning, as also from injuries done to the head or brain. Indeed, diseases are
often so cured by the ragings of the animus that these very excitements aCt as
its medicines, the worst of criminals sometimes being restored to the path of
virtue through the tortures of the body; and so in other cases. The animus is
also changed by single senses, as by sight and smell, and transported into joy,
loves, and other emotions. The reason is very evident from the well known essence
and origin of the mind. For the red blood about to be dissolved always passes
over into fibres by means of the cortex, each cortical gland being an internal
sensory, and each of these containing its intelleftories, and from these
intelledfories taken all together, or their affedtions, arises the animus.
When the blood is infedted
by some disease, and the purer blood is at the same time affedted, while
flowing through these sensories, it [the infedted blood] induces in them a
change of state, so that the animus is unable to be affedted according to a
natural influx, for the correspondence itself is varied according to this
induced state. As is a natural effedt following from its causes and principles,
and as is the blood naturally according to its animus, such it cannot be if the
blood do not agree, but the blood being changed the effeft must become,
altogether another one.
(467.) But it may be asked
whether the intelleftory or the intelleftories arising from such a change in
the body are changed radically or interiorly, or only externally or
superficially, so that after that change and purifying of the blood the animus
remains still the same. This is indeed what experience teaches ; for after the
disease the animus usually returns the same as before, so that such a change
is only superficial and does not alter the internal form. The examples are very
rare of the animus being radically changed by corporeal causes. Drive out nature
with a fork, it will yet come back again .
(468.) But by diseases and
similar causes only the external or general form of the animus can be changed,
and not the internal, since only the state of the sensories is changed, perhaps
because the internal sensories, unable to pass through these or those states,
are compelled to assume others; for the animus cannot operate except according
to the state assumed by the sensories, as the animus adapts to itself the
states of the sensories. Hence that state arising from the internal form of the
animus abides notwithstanding these external effects, and returns when the outward change is passed, or after diseases.
(469.) But indeed, in
order that the state of the animus or the intelle&ories be changed it is
necessary that it be done through the rational mind; and even that by reason of
diseases, misfortunes, and similar causes, the rational mind receives more
healthy principles and thus expels those changes of state and puts on others
which correspond to purer loves. Therefore the human animus can by no means be
changed unless by means of the rational mind.
XXIII.
The
Influx of the Rational Mind into the Animus, AND BY MEANS OF THE ANIMUS INTO THE Body
; and the influx of the Animus into the Rational Mind.
(470.) That the animus
flows into the rational mind is clearly seen from experience ; for our rational
mind is possessed wholly as it were by affeCtions of the animus, since we
desire what the animus desires, and rush as it were blindly or without any
understanding into its concupiscences. The cause appears evidently a
priori, since the internal intelledories are what taken together constitute
the animus, to whose internal form the external form must correspond. The
external form is the brain or the common sensory ; as, accordingly, the
affeCtion of the animus is, such is the state of the sensory, for the state of
the sensory puts on that form which agrees with the affeCtions of the mind. So
long as this form remains, no thing else, however grateful or harmonious, can
be insinuated into the mind unless it agree with this state. The universal
state includes and contains all special and individual states. The universal
being formed, all the special states flow into it as harmonious. The
intelleCtories are what form the change of state agreeably to the loves of the
animus. Thus the animus flows into the state of the mind. The common animus is
the agreement of all the intelleCtories according to that influx from the
senses and from the blood; these form and move the common and external form to
which the internal form corresponds.
(471.) When, therefore,
the rational mind with the consent of the intelleft remains in the state of the
animus, which is that of all the intelleftories, then it is blindly occupied by
these flowing in ; but when it dispels these and rejefts the affeftions of the
animus or holds them in check, then it is enabled to put on more perfeft
states. These changes may be brought upon the more rational mind through
sicknesses, and in that case by influx and by correspondence; by influx,
it may be, because diseases and diverse external accidents may so change the
sensory that it can put on these states rather than those ; but they are still
states of the intelleft; by correspondence, because the mind observes
in misfortunes and sickness that the particular passions of the animus, such
as vengeance, anger, envy, hatred, destroy the mind, and so it is imbued with
piety and the virtues. Thus the mind itself by its own liberty changes the
animus according to the occasion, by refleftion and correspondence, and puts on
a state agreeing with more perfeft loves; and so can the animus or its internal
form be changed.
(472.) But to change
the animus is to change the nature itself, as to change a good animus to a
bad one, which is easily done, or a bad to a good one, which is more difficult.
This can only be done by means of the rational mind and its understanding, let
that understanding be either really its own or one induced by faith or by authority.
Nor is the nature changed [even then] unless we shun and abhor evils, and never
bring our mind into that [evil] state, and unless as often as it falls into it
we snatch it forth with the liberty given us, and put on that state which
agrees with a more perfeft love. Nor does this avail, indeed, unless we remain
a long time in this state, and exert force and violence upon the other, and by
frequent works and exercises of virtue put on the opposite, and so continue until the mind shall have drawn to itself a new
nature, and expelled as it were the old, so that as often as the old returns we
are aware that it must be resisted. Thus and not otherwise can
we put off the bad nature and put on the good, a most difficult attainment in this
life without the Divine grace and aid ; but in the same degree an end worthy of
the greater mind if we apply ourselves; and what does not appear to be whole
in us we shall thrice best obtain by prayers to God. So nature as it were bends
and changes nature, not indeed by influx into the intelleftories or substances
of the mind, but by correspondence and reflection. For the intelleCtory knows
truths, or what is true and what is false ; and as it expels the hatred of
truth, then the love of truth succeeds in its place.
XXIV.
(473.) The pure
intelleftory is that in which the animus at first resides, for it is in this
as a pure natural mind. This, because it is of the intelleftory, which is
formed entirely from the substance of its own soul, must of necessity be also
formed after the mind or spirit of its own soul, so that such as is the soul
such shall be the animus in its very formation, even while lying concealed in
the womb and during earliest infancy. For then indeed the animus is entirely
subjeft to the spiritual mind ; but afterwards when the rational mind, is
formed and the states of the intelleftory begin to depend on this state of the
sensories, then begins as it were an inversion, and the animus depends on an
influx of objefts and of harmonies through the external senses from the world
and by the bloods from the body.
(474.) From these fafts it
follows that the spiritual mind flows into the animus, even to being its
essence and life, for this cannot exist and subsist without the spiritual mind
; wherefore also the spiritual mind always loves the animus ; but when the
animus rebels and wishes to render itself superior then it is rejefted by the
spiritual mind, and a perpetual battle arises, almost as if it were between God
and the Devil. Each desires to occupy the rational mind, but the viftory
belongs to but one ; nor can the animus be expelled suddenly, but there must be
perseverance even to the end of life.
(475.) When, therefore,
the bad animus has been changed into a good one, or a good into a bad one, thus
as an acquired nature tries to expel the old nature, then is the former animus
changed, and the animus being changed the state of the soul is thereupon
changed; not by influx, however, but by correspondence, the rational mind
acting as medium and the Divine grace concurring. There must be a disposition
that the spiritual mind may be able to flow in with its loves, at least a rejection
of the loves of the animus ; so that the soul may be disposed to flow in with
its spiritual loves, [or] at least that the mind may be disposed to the influx
of those loves. The intellect here contributes nothing except it be from what
is revealed; but faith springing from God, and His Divine power being implored,
His spirit flows into the soul and changes its state or perfeCts it. But long
exercise is needed, if the soul be bad, that it may become good; although not
so long to restore a good soul by a change of mind. Thus there is a certain
election of souls, for without a miraculous and particular favour a bad soul
cannot at once be made good. But there must be a self-compulsion and most
ardent prayer and continual zeal for that which is truly spiritual and divine.
These appear to be the true principles for our attainment of spiritual
perfection. For something spiritual and divine flows down from above into what
is below, nor can what is without bring any change upon what is within except
by correspondence, and such correspondence does not exist in the soul [except
from the Divine gift].
The Influx of the Spiritual Loves of the Soul
into the Rational Mind, and the reverse.
(476.) The spiritual mind,
or what is of the soul, can never flow into the rational mind except through
the animus or by its means, hence only while the animus is subject to the
spiritual mind. Therefore in order that the spiritual mind may flow in the
animus must be subjugated, so that it obey and does not command. For the soul
cannot flow into the internal sensory except by means of the intelleCtory.
Hence we see how the spiritual can flow in ; namely, when the affeCtions of
the animus are wholly submissive and are held in check so as not to occupy the
mind, and when the mind suffers itself to be aCted upon ; and not even now
unless the intellect knows from revelation what part is to be chosen or what is
divine, the verily good, and just, and true. Then inasmuch as the mind does
not understand this of itself, it ought to pray to God that He will inspire
faith and love, for obtaining which many spiritual means are revealed. Thus at
length the spiritual mind is able to flow into the rational mind. For so remote
and deeply within dwells the spiritual mind that it is impossible to approach
it immediately, or except by a universal means or by the animus. Hence it is
evident how difficult it is to turn a bad soul into a good one, and that this
is the work of Divine grace alone ; only there must be the persevering human
application.
XXV.
INCLINATIONS
AND TEMPERAMENTS.
(477.) There are innumerable
human natures or inclinations, since no man is similarly inclined with another
; but all these inclinations, which are infinite in variety, may be reduced to
three general ones, namely, the inclination of being wise, or to honour or
virtues ; the inclination of knowing, which is an adtive principle and is
natural; and the inclination of understanding, which may be called
intellectual.
(478.) The inclination
of being wise, or the spiritual inclination to what is honourable or
virtuous, is derived from the soul, and indicates a good soul or a spiritual
mind, which is determined by true loves. But since the body is formed into an
image of the operations of the soul, it follows that this inclination must be
connate. The seeds of honour and the virtues seem to be connate, and prevail in
whole families and their posterity. The virtues themselves are innumerable. One
person inclines to this virtue in particular or to this virtuous quality, and
another to that. The reason why the inclination exists is to be sought in the
spiritual state itself of the soul, which state is derived by birth from the
parents, whose soul the progeny inherits ; to the parent, however, it has come
by frequent exercise of virtues and the practice of piety lasting to the end of
life. That posterity may obliterate the crimes of parents, and also on their
parents’ account may receive reward, is proved in all the histories of the
world beyond the possibility of doubt.
(479.) The
inclination of knowing, or of learning the arts, is also inborn, since we
are born poets, musicians, architects, sculptors, and into many other
avocations, as experience proves; for this [aptitude] is derived from parents,
and is perfected by use. Hence there must be industry in exploring the natures
of particulars even in boyhood itself, and when any one is perfected in those
things to which he inclines, he mav climb to the highest round, for his desire
aspires thither. This inclination derives its origin from the intellectorv and
its animus, for the first intelleCtory is infused by the parent and insinuated
into the ovum, from which similar ones are procreated. This intelleCtory is
more inclined to certain mutations of state than to others, hence also the
sensories derive their proclivities to certain mutations of state, that is, to
the forming and receiving of certain ideas which at once delight the animus,
since they correspond to its mind.
(4S0.) The
inclination of understanding.—Some are born with a prodigious memory, by
which they can imitate an intelleCt; or into a facility of expressing the
senses of their animus; into a presence of mind; to meditation or phantasy ;
some to judging profoundly even in regard to wisdom itself, although thev are
lacking in wisdom : some to certain sciences, as to mathematics, philosophy,
history, and manv other branches. This also is derived from the *
parent by the
same cause, namely, that the senses are more inclined to putting on these
mutations of state [than others]. But the inmost cause is found in the intelleCtory*,
in the mutability of its animus, and in the love and affeCtion thence arising;
for as it was in the parent such is it in the offspring.
(4S1.) But all
these inclinations can be changed by age, both from external and especially
from internal
INCLINATIONS
AND TEMPERAMENTS. 301 causes, since our intellect is being formed and the rational mind
coming into use. Hence manv affections and loves can be insinuated and become
habitual which are handed down to children by propagation. Nevertheless, the inclination
of wisdom or the spiritual mind is longest to remain, because it is more remote
from the rational mind, nor does it accordingly suffer itself to be changed.
For God always inspires and provides its destinies, so that it shall not perish
except it be in its posterity.
Temperaments.
(482.) There
are four temperaments enumerated, namely, the sanguine, the choleric, the
melancholy, and the phlegmatic; these are merely inclinations of the animus or
the diverse animi into which we are born.
The sanguine
temperament indicates a state in which the animus is conspicuously present
in receiving sensations and producing ideas, prone to various affections alike,
thus not tenacious of opinion, easily suited, lively; this animus beams forth
in the face, eyes, speech, voice, gestures, and particular actions, and a
description of it is furnished by the physiologists.
The choleric
temperament indicates an animus not so prone to pleasures and various
desires, but serious, sometimes indignant and morose if another does not
favour one’s opinion or one’s love, but otherwise with the good man loving in
general what is honourable. The face and outward form belonging to this
temperament are also described [by these writers].
The melancholic
temperament indicates a sad mind, immersed in phantasies, indulging more
in internal than in external feelings, more averse to pleasures, rather an
internal than an external man ; unlike the sanguine temperament, tenacious of
opinion, believing in hypotheses and opinions as truths, and thinking oneself wiser than
any; it is
vehement in the affections into which it falls, and increases them by its own
imagination; is a lover of solitude, or of those companions to whom it is accustomed,
and hates variety.
The phlegmatic
temperament indicates an animus prone neither to anger nor to other
affeCtions, silent, reticent, patient, but cherishing an inward ardour, slow in
aCting, and so on.
(483.) But
these temperaments are not sufficient to express the changes of the animus, for
they are assumed from the state itself of the blood and from the indications of
the face, since the animus shapes the face to itself as an image, as it
likewise disposes the liquids and the blood, in order that they may serve or
favour itself. Therefore he who derives this or that nature from habit or from
constitution \natura\ has his blood disposed to this nature. But
inasmuch as the temperaments express only the external form of the animus, from
which some wish to deduce the internal, I am not therefore certain whether the
inclinations of the animus can properly be reduced to these genera or species,
and whether they exhaust the specific variations. This is clear, that as
diviners they are very deceitful, and that they change with change of age. For
the blood to which the temperaments belong is changed in various ways ; as we
call this one sanguine who enjoys a more flowing or delicate blood; choleric
whose blood is sharper, more bilious, more flecked and drier; melancholic if the blood is more
hard and dry; and phlegmatic if it be more sluggish and tenacious.
(484.) The
animus prone to receiving and giving forth affections, and consequently to
external and internal sensations, is ready and quick, and is called sanguine.
But the animus which is languid toward the internal and external sensations
and affections is phlegmatic. The animus vehement for its passions and
internal and external sensations, is choleric. The animus slow toward the same
is melancholic.
(485.) Thus we
are able to draw distinctions in the animi rather than in the blood, and we may
substitute them for temperaments, for it is the animi that are prone, vehement,
and languid toward passions and affeCtions, and hence also toward the internal
and external sensations, inasmuch as the sensations follow the animus, as they
cannot be separated from the animus. As is the animus such is the blood, and
such the form of the body and its forces.
IMMORTALITY.
XXVI.
(486.) We have shown above what the
body is and what is its form, or that
the body consists of forms inferior, by orderly and successive degrees, to the
soul which is the spiritual form; thus the body consists of purer and grosser
parts. The form of the soul is spiritual, that of the intelle&ory is
celestial, that of the internal sensory is vortical, that of the external
sensory or the brain is spiral, and that of the appendix itself which is properly called the body is
circular. Its bones, cartilages, and similar parts are of the angular form,
likewise the many elements which enter into the blood and constitute it, in
every globule of which every form is concealed, from the first one to the last.
(487.) These
forms are so conne&ed that one
holds the other most closely, so that they appear like one entity, even though
they be most distinct. Thus the soul is said to descend from its heaven into
the world, when it brings itself into such forms, and shapes its organs out of
itself and its own substance, whose forms at length are corporeal and material.
The cause of this is that the soul may be able to engage in the functions of
this lowest world, and operate in a manner conformable to its forces ; since
if it did not put on a corporeal form it would never be able to walk upon the
earth, to lift weights, to cultivate the soil, to procreate offspring, and form
a terrestrial society, but could only live in some sublunary region. Wherefore
the body is formed with a regard to the performing of these functions, and thus
otherwise in man than in the quadrupeds, reptiles, birds, and fishes. All are
formed according to their nature, to which are adapted the gifts which each
shall exercise.
(488.) The
destruction of these ultimate forms is called dying, and the lowest are those
first destroyed, and then in order the purer and the higher, even up to the
soul or the spiritual form, which cannot be destroyed. First the angular form
is destroyed, or their connexion is severed, and the angular bodies which are
in the blood and the humours are dissipated, wherefore so slight a portion of
the blood is seen remaining in the dead. Afterward the circular form or the
form of the several viscera is destroyed, and also the outward form of the
body, which collapses, then the brain or the spiral form, and so the remaining
ones in their order.
(489.) Any
thing is said to die or to be destroyed when that which is proper to its form
perishes or is dissolved ; thus the situation and the connexion of the parts,
their order, and thence their state, are the peculiar property of a thing, and
besides these there is nothing which is proper to any form ; and when these are
dissolved then the form perishes or dies, and then all that affeCtion which was
adapted to it passes away. Thus the soul is no longer able to perceive those
things which agree with itself, namely, the modifications and affeCtions of the
ultimate world and its harmonies, or sensations and the like impressions, nor
to perform the other bodily functions, for every muscle is destroyed ; and
although each motor fibre may remain, still the property of the muscle as such
perishes, for the situation, connection, order, and state of its motor fibres are
destroyed. The motor fibres may be dissolved and die, and still the nervous
fibres which composed them remain. On the dissolution and perishing of the
nervous fibres the simple fibres remain, and so on. So also in the other
viscera, and even in the organs. For as these were successively formed so are
they successively dissolved, or as they are born into life so do they perish
[or are born out of life (denascuntur)\. The lowest forms, because they
are changeable, inconstant, imperfect, and their determinations less
harmonious, are always the first to die, and so in order up to the foremost.
The triangular form perishes before the circular, the circular before the
spiral; for there is always something of the perpetual added or something of
the finite and inconstant taken away as the form ascends. This is the reason
why the dissolution of forms and hence of the body, which consists of forms of
this kind, takes place in this order.
(490.) Hence
it follows that more time is required for the dissolution of any higher form
than of a lower, and more for that of a circular than for that of an angular
form. Thus death proceeds from the external to the internal man, and the more
slowly as the progress is more to the interiors.
(491.) But let
us take the blood as an example. A globule of this consists of all the forms
even to the first spiritual. The red blood is first dissolved, and the angular
elements are dissipated, which effect takes place immediately ; next the pure
blood then remaining is dissolved, but after considerable lapse of time: then
remains that which properly is called the animal spirit or its individual part
; this is not readily dissolved because it is a celestial form. After this
remains the soul purified from all that is earthly.
(492.) Thus by
death that is given back to the earth which was taken from the earth, as
whatever was in the blood and its humours; and to the air what was likewise
taken from it; as also to the ether. That remains which is purely animal^
and the animal property, namely, the soul \anima\, which is alone what lives, and lives
in the body according to its organic forms. Thence all that life dies which
belongs to that organism, that is, the external, ultimate, lowest, and inferior
life of the soul. Therefore dissolution is predicated of the organism, and
death of the life of that organism.
(493.) The
question arises therefore, What lives die, or what organic connections are
dissolved? For there are as many degrees of life as there are degrees of
organs. The life of the tongue is different from that of hearing, that of the
ear different from that of the eye, and that of the eye from that of the
internal sensory which is called perception. The life of the sensory is,
further, different from that of the intelleCtory, and that of the intelleCtory
from that of the soul which is spiritual, and is the all in the remaining lives
in which it lives according to form and by forms. The forms themselves are
called organic, and they are the substances themselves whose affeCtions are
called sensations.
(494.) In
order, therefore, that we may know what forms are dissolved or what lives die,
this is sufficiently beyond question, that the common life of the body dies, or
that the general nexus of all its parts is dissolved ; likewise the external sensory
organs, touch, taste, smell, hearing, sight, with organs of each, as also the
internal sensory, with the intellect and the rational mind, that is, the
cortical glands with the changes of their states. For there was no such
intellect in the embryo, hardly any in the infant, it has increased with age,
is completed in the adult, then decreases in old age, is enfeebled and suffers
in disease, and therefore also dies with the body. This intellect indeed has
been acquired, to the end that the soul by means of it might perceive what goes
on outside of itself, and indeed through the senses, and also that it might
perform those functions which are to be exercised in this lowest world. When
the soul no longer lives in this ultimate world, nor wishes longer to perceive
what is going on here in these lowest spheres, nor what requires to be done in
the earth, and in a terrestrial society, then with the necessity and the use
the faculty itself perishes and also the organ predestined to this use.*
O how
miserable should we be if after death we lived in a rational mind, with our
imperfedt intellect, with our inconstant will governed by so many changing
states and desires, and we ourselves partly spiritual and partly animal ! Such
a mind could equally be changed, and after its intervals die, in the future as
in the present life, for it would not have changed its nature. Therefore our
rational mind with its desires and affections, and our intellect with its
principles, opinions, and reasonings, die and do not survive their body.j*
(495.) As for
the pure intelleCtory to which belongs the pure natural mind, this indeed also
seems to die or to be dissolved, but after the longest delay; for it is a
celestial form, and there are no forms present which can destroy it; but how
long this continues it is not in our power to say. As for instance, how this
mind or animus can survive a long time after death, and not be able to operate,
as its common or external form is dissolved, and it is yet unable to acquire to
itself a new form. But this let us dismiss as something wholly unknown,
whether, for instance, the human animus may survive the life of the body even
to the Last Judgment,£ when its parts are to
♦ In his subsequent theological writings the
Author teaches a very different doctrine regarding
the relation of the intellect and of the rational mind after death. Not only are all things, even of the external memory, preserved, but
they go to form a kind of cutaneous covering of the
spiritual body after death, preserving its personal identity or individuality.
This external memory is indeed quiescent, and nothing imbibed through the
senses in the material world is any longer adtive except what has been made
rational by refledlive use in the world. The cutaneous covering of the spiritual
body consists of certain “ natural substances belonging to the mind,"
which are taken from the natural world, but which at death recede to the
circumference, and become quiescent and inactive. By “ natural substances
belonging to the mind," and retained after death, we are not to understand
material
substances, that which is natural in the order of discrete degrees being not
necessarily material in form. On these points see the Divine Love and Wisdom, no. 257, 388
; Heaven and Hell, nos. 461, seq. [Tr.
t Compare
nos. 508, 525, 536. [7r.
t Here again is suggested an idea wholly
repudiated in the author’s theological be resolved into their
principles by a most pure elementary fire. Into these mysteries, however, let
us not penetrate.
(496.) But it
is asked, Why must the body be dissolved, or the corporeal life extinguished ?
The reason why this is ordained of the Divine Providence is very evident if we
regard the end of creation, that, namely, there may be a universal society of
souls which shall constitute heaven, and which would be impossible without a
seminary upon the earth, and without the death of those dwelling therein, and
thus a perpetual succession ; as also in order that souls may be formed in
their bodies and re formed into the eternal state. What is earthly and corporeal
cannot be perpetual, because it is changeable in itself, inconstant, imperfect,
and always decreasing. Death is therefore inseparable from the corporeal life,
especially since it is subjeft to the will of the rational mind, which always
takes away the corporeal life [quae semper aufert vitam corpoream\.
(497.) Beside
this, the soul never would be able, without death, to be left to its own right
and free will according to its nature of living ; for it is interwoven in
writings, namely, that of the Last
Judgment as occurring at the end of the world, and as accompanied by a material
conflagration. In the True Christian Religion and in the treatise on The Last
Judgment, he teaches that the passages of the
Scriptures treating of the end the world, being written, as all the Divine Word
is, according to the law of correspondence, are to be understood according to
their spiritual meaning, and as relating to the end of the first Christian
Church or dispensation, owing to the extinction of its faith and charity; and
that the Last Judgment takes place, not in our material sphere, but in the
world of spirits. In the separation of the good from the evil spirits there,
and the inauguration of “ a new heaven and a new earth,” in the sense of a new
angelic heaven of those who are saved, and a new Church on earth of those who
believe in the Lord and obey his commandments. In this sense Swedenborg
declares that the “ end of the world ” has already come, and the Last Judgment
has already taken place, and that the former Christian Church has accordingly
reached its end; and that a new Christian Church is now being formed of those
who receive the Lord in His Second Coming, worshipping Him in His Divine Humanity
as the only God of heaven and earth, and endeavouring by a life of faith and
charity combined to keep His commandments. This “ Second Coming of the Lord “
is not in person, but it is in the Word, which is from Him and is Himself; and
it is effected by means of a man before whom He has manifested Himself, and
whom He has filled with His Spirit to teach the Dodlrines of the New Church
through the Word, from Him” (see Swedenborg’s True
Christian Religion, no. 776, seq. [7>. the
body, or is the form of its own body, and so bound into it that it cannot aft
otherwise than according to the ability of those forms which it has attained;
thus it is most limited, and nothing is left to it but to wish and desire other
conditions. In order, therefore, that the soul may be left to itself, it is
necessary that its ultimate form be dissolved. Even the soul itself desires
often to be dissolved, especially when the loves of the animus have driven out
the purer loves, and the soul lives as it were subjugated to the body. Then the
soul itself conspires for the dissolution of the body, and indeed by those accidents
which often befall us unawares and are the causes of diseases and of death ;
but concerning these points more will be said elsewhere.
These
subjects, however, and that of death itself, must be treated distinftly and in
their several divisions, that they may the better cohere.
XXVII.
Of the Immortality of the Soul.
(498.) What the soul is has been defined and described above,
namely, that it is immaterial, without extension, or motion, or parts; hence it
contains in itself nothing that will perish. But these are rather verbal
predications than true definitions, inasmuch as these names do not suit the
higher forms, although they have something analogous thereto in their meaning.
For except from analogy one cannot avoid in the above definition the idea of
nothing ; hence we betake ourselves rather to the form itself of the soul,
since it is said that the form of the soul is spiritual and that in the
spiritual form those things are infinite which are finite in inferior forms. According
to this description also every idea of place, thus of centre and surface, above
and below, hence of motion and extent, perishes or is abolished. This follows
from the idea itself of the form, namely, that it contains nothing in it which
can perish. For there must be a changing in the position and connexion of
parts in whatever perishes or is destroyed; and in a form which embraces no
idea of place, centre, surface, or in which the centre and the circumference
and surface are everywhere, destruction cannot be conceived of. This form is
the very contrary of destruction, looking only to perpetuity ; and indeed, the
more it is attacked the more it resists every effort of destruction.
(499.) If we examine forms in their order it appears that as the
form becomes higher, or ascends to something superior, there is always
something of perpetuity added.
Thus in proceeding from the angular to the circular the circle
becomes perpetual, and all the lines and planes conspire to a certain perpetuity.
But since this form, both by expansion from centre to circumference and also by
resisting the blow of other objects on its surface, either returns to itself or
enters upon some other state, therefore lest it, the circular form, should
perish by expansion, there is that which is perpetual in the spiral form. For
the coils terminate in a kind of circular surface and return to it; and so by
expansion, as also by this returning and keeping the unbroken surface in view,
this figure is more sure of permanence. But still, inasmuch as this spiral
figure has regard to a centre, it is yet liable to destruction. The possibility
of perishing is done away with, however, in the forms still superior, as in the
vortical and celestial; thus such is the perpetuity in the spiritual form that,
by virtue of its very nature, the form is secure. For one determination so
regards another that each renders the other entirely safe from every injury.
This results from the form itself, and the perfection in which it was created.
(500.) Moreover, the spiritual form draws its essence immediately
from God by inspiration, as a child from its parent; wherefore it acknowledges
Deity or God Himself as its father immediately in creation, and that it is and
exists from the immortal and eternal itself, and can neither be destroyed nor
become mortal. This is the reason why the soul is immortal, not from itself but
from God, who alone is immortal in Himself; thus through Him does the soul
become so.
(501.) Since, therefore, the soul is the inmost and supreme of all
forms, the first natural form itself is beneath it, and the inferior forms
recede even to the angular, as earth recedes from heaven; hence the soul can in
no wise be touched, still less destroyed, by these lower forms which are in
nature. Tell me, how can that which is inmost be destroyed by those things
which are without, or that which is supreme by those which are below, or that which is
simple by those which are compound, or what is prior by what is posterior, or
what is most perfeft in itself by things which are imperfeft in themselves? For
the imperfeft derives its ability to exist at all from the perfeft qualities
which it contains. That which has in itself the infinite cannot be touched by
the finite, still less destroyed ; what is constant in itself cannot be
destroyed by what is inconstant. The very superior forms themselves, especially
the spiritual, are able to undergo infinite changes of their state, since in
this their perfeftion consists. If we suppose any attack, collision, or the
like to take place, such as occurs in inferior forms, then its state is able to
be changed in any manner, and even to return to its natural state;
comparatively as the natural substances which are most elastic can be bent and
unbent, expanded and compressed, and still return to their own form. Thus as
they are afted upon so they aft, and hence cannot be forced by any power or
shock out of their natural state.
(502.) Hence it now
follows that nothing terrestrial can by any means touch the soul, whether it be
what flows in air, ether, or fire, nor anything atmospheric, not even the most
pure fire of nature. All these are far below the soul and have no contaft with
it, nor if they did could they exercise the least force, for the soul is safe
in its own form. This also is evident in the body itself, where there is so
great a disturbance of the most volatile parts taken up from the earth, the
aerial atmosphere, and the ether, but still these do not disturb or injure even
the least organic connexion, place, or order. Myriads of the substances such as
belong to the soul might meet in the smallest angular form. It would be like
saying that a large beam might split in two a single particle of some ether,
when the faft is that myriads of such [ether] particles touch so obtuse a
mass, and even permeate its pores; or as if you should say that the posts and
beams of a house would extinguish the abstraflive and direftive force of the
magnet, when this flows through the metals themselves and all things. Such
would be the injuring or the obstructing of the operation of the soul or spirit
by those things which are the most minute angular forms of nature, or fire. For
the magnetic force itself pervades even fire and flame, although in vortical
forms. What then must not the soul be capable of which possesses a form above
the celestial ?
(503.) Besides, it is
contrary to nature that that can be destroyed which is without weight or
lightness, or which does not resist any weight, but aCts according as it is
aCted upon, or where aCtion and passion exactly correspond. But what agent can
there be to destroy the soul ? since there can be none without or below it, for
such things do not touch it; and in order to destroy the determinations
themselves of the soul the agent must at least reach them and touch them. But
that also which is above does not destroy the soul, for this is divine ; this
preserves rather than destroys, and all the more surely since human souls are
the ends of creation, and constitute the kingdom of God. Nor indeed does that
which is within destroy the soul, but it rather preserves it, as has been said
above of form,—showing how this protects itself.
(504.) Spiritual death,
however, is not the destruction of essence and of life, but of the better life
itself, inasmuch as the soul is removed from the love of God, from wisdom,
felicity, and perfection, and has ceased to be the image of God; and in heaven
this constitutes spiritual death. For life itself consists of the truly
spiritual loves ; and when these are extinCt, and in their place the contrary
loves succeed, or hatreds, then that is said to be dead which truly lived.
Truly to live is to love God and to be wise. In such life remains that form
itself, and that essence itself which cannot perish. But there is only a
perversion of state, or the state of the form is so changed that it no longer
corresponds with the divine loves, and thus that
image of God is lost which
requires a state conformable to its loves.
(505.) But it is asked why
the life itself appears to die and be destroyed with our body, or what appears
to be the life itself, rather of the body indeed than of the soul—as in the
case of swoonings and ecstasies, dreams, drownings, the buried coming to life,
embryonic existence, and other instances, where the subjects are entirely ignorant,
after their resuscitation into the bodily life, that they have been living
meanwhile. No sign remains impressed on their memory of what they have thought,
or indeed of their having thought at all. From these and similar examples it
appears as if life were merely corporeal and not at all of the soul.
(506.) But in these as in
innumerable other instances we are deluded by appearances ; for the life of the
soul is not like that of our sensation or perception, or even like that of our
thought, but is more perfect and superior, flowing into the thought itself, and
perfecting it in order that the mind may think. But the thought itself is something
that is learned by practice; it is a faculty of the rational mind, and it perishes
together with the body. What the pure life and intelligence of the soul is,
and how it flows into the thought, may appear from reflection alone, in that,
namely, the soul naturally enters into all the secrets of any knowledge when
it operates in the body, and in the sensations and thoughts ; this knowledge
being not acquired by the soul, but inborn, and flowing in from the life of the
soul. Does not the eye explore all the secrets of optics, the ear those of
acoustics, in order to know of itself and of its own nature how to form sounds
and how to put together what shall be harmonious ? Does not even a little boy,
whenever he thinks or forms a judgment, or speaks, traverse all the first
philosophy, logic, dialectics, grammar, and so forth, yea, the most hidden
things of these sciences ? Thus it is that we learn from ourselves all this
knowledge. When the soul aCts or produces the least action, or moves a
muscles, it runs through all chemistry, mechanics, mathematics, and physics.
Hence may appear what the life of the soul is in itself, namely, that it is
such as it is of itself; it is not something acquired by learning, like the
knowledge of the rational mind whence come imagination and thought. Therefore
the inmost life or essence of thought derives its origin from the soul, and’
thus thoughts may be withdrawn, and still the life of the soul or the highest
spiritual intelligence remain.
(507.) Since the life of
the soul is such as we have described, it cannot leave any impress on our rational
mind; for it is an intelligence so universal, pure, simple, and superior, that
its thought cannot be exercised by means of words or material ideas in the
manner that we think; hence it can neither impress the sensory, nor in the
absence of the ideas of memory induce any change in it. Inasmuch, therefore,
as the soul in such wise shapes its ideas without.speaking words, but rather
understanding inwardly those things which the mind speaks or thinks, it
follows that this life of the soul can least of all impress anything of its
memory on the mind, which understands things only in the crudest manner
[comparatively].
(508.) But that this very
life [of the soul] is our own, yea is the life of the body itself, and that we
are to return into it after the dissolution of the body, is apparent from this,
that the soul is that which experiences sensation, namely, it hears, it sees,
it perceives, it thinks, judges, wills, but according to an organic form, and
not otherwise. This also is vividly shown in that the soul does not seem to
live separately [from its bodily organs] except as these external forms are
successively destroyed; thus the sight appears as if it were in the eye, but
the eye being closed we still see witn a sight, and the more the eye is closed
the more the internal sight and imagination are perfected ; and so much is this
the case that the external sight may be rather a hindrance than otherwise to
the internal sight. Likewise the imagination and thought seem so to cohere that
without the imagination the thought would seem to perish ; but yet in order to
think profoundly, and to enter inmostly into things themselves it is necessary
to remove the material ideas of the imagination, or to abstract the mind from
material things, since only thus can we think purely. This comes by abstraction
; thus the thought returns and is separated as it were from its external form.
Such thought also leaves almost no impress whatever oh the internal sensory,
except so far as it has become fixed in some material idea or figure. When,
now, this entire material idea recedes, there remains the life of the soul,
which can make no impression on the sensory. Nor does it put itself forth as it
is, in the embryo or infant; although it is possessed of just as much
intelligence in the smallest infant as in an adult mind of the acutest
judgment; but it is unable to put itself forth except so far as the rational
mind is furnished with ideas of the memory, by means of which it may express
itself.
(509.) Such is the life of
the soul unmixed with ignorance, having no imperfection, having all knowledge
in itself, so that it may be knowledge itself, truth, order, and intelligence.
As such it can by no means perish; nature which is destructible is subjeCt to
it, and so the life of that form seems to die. The veriest life of the soul is
the veriest life appertaining to us ; and it does not come to itself so that we
may be conscious of it before all that life of the forms which are below
itself, and in which it has been involved, has receded. These the soul itself destroys in order that
it may free itself from their chains, and be restored to its own right and
freedom of aCting ; for just as the soul knows how to form its own body, one
vis- cus after another, how to escape from the womb, how to
nourish itself at the
breast, and many other things, even as the caterpillar knows how to transform
itself into the butterfly, and to destroy its pristine form, so also does the
soul know how to destroy its own forms, to restore itself to liberty, and thus
to migrate from this dying, imperfect, and inconstant life to that which is
immortal; and this could not take place without the death of the body’s life.
(510.) From these very
operations of the soul it may be seen what its form is ; for the soul is that
very substance in which form has its being ; its intelligence is that
distinguishing faculty and quality of the forces and modifications [which we
call form]. Thus from form, and also from intelligence itself, it may be
deduced and clearly seen that the soul is immortal.
Of the State of the Soul after the Death of
the Body.
(511.) Every one desires to know what will be the state of the soul
after death. There is no one who does not conjecture that the future state will
be such as was that of the bodily life, or that which was lived in the rational
mind; for who that has not in his mind penetrated into the degrees of life can
conceive that there is any superior, more perfeft, universal, or abstract life
[than that in the rational mind] ? They are few who deny any continuance of
that life which they attribute to the soul and to the animus; the wise men of
the gentile nations unanimously believed in this surviving of the soul, as may
be seen from the Greek authors, the Sophists, Plato, Aristotle, as also from
Cicero and all the rest; besides, in order to place this doftrine beyond all
chance of doubt, Pythagoras and Socrates even have attempted to describe the
state of the soul after death. We Christians, still better informed out of the
sacred Scriptures, not only believe in the immortal life of the soul, but also
that there is a happy state or heaven, and an unhappy state or hell. But let us
pursue the psychological principles propounded by us in their order, and set
forth what these principles diftate.
(512.) It is the common opinion that at once, after the death of the
body, the soul is separated and flies away and leaves its corpse. But when we
consider that the universal form of the body exists only from the one substance, the soul, or from
the soul (for there is nothing which does not begin with the simple fibre, and
the simple fibre is from the simple cortex, and so on) ; and since the soul is
the real essence and substance from which is the universal organic form' of the
body, and thus the all in every part, and residing as it were inmostly and in
the centre of all, even in the blood itself, whose principal essence is the
soul which is in it, it follows that the whole soul does not fly from the body
in the moment in which the life of the body is extinCi, but that it remains so
long as there are any parts not dissolved in which it inheres. This is proved
by many instances of those who some days after their funeral rites have been
performed have come to life again, and continued a life of years among mortals,
as the historians tell us. There are those also who have been suffocated in
drowning or in constriction of the throat, and after days have revived. Meanwhile
the soul cannot have left the body, and when the obstructions are removed, the
water discharged, the soul re-enters at once its abode. There are also those
who resemble the dying in undergoing swoons, syncope, and like attacks, when
nevertheless the soul does not depart, but remains and lives although the body
be as it were extinCL There are also many examples even in the sacred
histories, of its being forbidden to violate the bodies and bones of the dead,
so that they may remain in peace and not be dispersed. Samuel also was
resuscitated ; and many other instances are related in both sacred and profane
history. We know as it were from an innate sense, or as if the soul itself
dictated it, that if the bones of the dead are disturbed their shades will
confront the violators ; and about such occurences also many stories are told.
The religion, too, of some people has been to kiss, venerate, and beseech the
bones of heroes and saints in order that these may give or procure aid. These
things would be the merest vanities if the soul should go forth entirely from
the body, and only that which is terrestrial remain.* Meanwhile, from the
tenor of our arguments it follows that the soul which procreates the form
itself of the body and of its parts, as also the blood and the animal spirit,
can by no means be released from its bonds until the lower and more changeable
forms be first dissolved. Although it is not to be denied that much of the soul
may be dissolved from its bonds, still it is not on this account separated.
It is contrary to the nature of spirits that those substances which are born
and made for the completion of one system should be separated. What is
interwoven with other parts may indeed be separated ; still although dissolved
from those bonds it appears that entire separation from all bonds is impossible
before the intervention of a most pure elementary fire, or until the
conflagation of the world, f
(513.) But it is asked,
What kind of a life is that which the soul lives while it still remains in the
dead body, the order, arrangements, and connection of whose organic parts is
wholly destroyed ? That life must necessarily be a most obscure one, or merely
life without intelligence. This appears from the mere definition of
intelligence. All intelligence supposes not only an internal form and change
of state in the single sensories and intelleCtories, but also an external form
of these particulars, or one enabling them to preserve a mutual arrangement
and order. This order being destroyed among the particulars, and with it their
arrangement and connexion, the communication of forces, modifications, and
affeCtions at once ceases; but there succeeds a certain irregularity from which
results a certain kind of life, not distinCt and determined, but confused and
obscure, which may be named barely life without intelli-
♦ The author’s subsequent teaching on
this point in his theological writings is quite different. That the separation
of the spirit from the body takes place instantly when the respiration and
systolic motion of the heart have entirely ceased, see Heaven and Hell, no. 446. [ Tr.
t See
note to no. 495. [ Tr.
gence. To understand [intelligere] is to live distinctly and according
to a form not of particulars only, but one entirely consentaneous, which form
is the reason. For our intellect is at once disturbed when the situation and
connection of the sensory or cortical glands are disturbed, as we learn from
the accounts of diseases of the head. The sight is destroyed or weakened by the
disturbance of the fibrous or liquid parts. The case is like that of colours when
all the colours are mingled together with water, or when an infinite number of
prisms and of the smallest irregular bits of glass are mixed together; there is
then no distinCt or beautiful colour, but only a whiteness resulting, which is
the conflux of all.
(514.) But when the
organism is not yet destroyed or its order disturbed, there then remains a
distinCt life of the soul, as in the embryo, although the soul cannot establish
a communication between its universal mind and intelligence and its rational
mind, for reasons above given ; hence no memory of itself remains after its
resuscitation.
(515.) But indeed, the
substance of the soul, freed from its corporeal bonds, seems to live a distinCt
life, and indeed, all the more distinCt for being liberated from these its
hindrances. For these most individual entities form a society among themselves,
and institute a most distinCt order, being left to their own liberty and
awaiting companions ; for the greater the society the more perfeCt is the life.
Whoever has lived longest, in him has the society, forming a unanimous body,
become so much the largest.
(516.) Inasmuch as the
soul is distinguished most completely into substances of a spiritual form, it
may be believed that the individual substances or forms will after dissolution
become dissipated, and never again unite into the society of any one body. Such
an opinion, however, arises from ignorance regarding the world and its purer
nature, and that of purer beings. For we believe that
STATE OF THE SOUL AFTER
DEATH. 323
there is a something which remains when the little bodily particle is resolved
into smoke, vapour, dust and ashes; but an entirely different process ensues
from this. In that supreme, most pure, and perfect world, or that where nature
is simple and prime, we cannot conceive of a disjunction of those beings which
by virtue of their mutual harmony and likeness belong to a single body. Each
living and spiritual substance of the soul recognizes its companion in the body
as its own, nor can it live in mutual consort with any other. Nor does
anything prevent their coming together, for there is no space, place, or time
to disjoin them ; these conditions all belonging to an inferior nature, and not
to the supreme. Place exists respectively to lower beings in whose relations
there is an upper and a lower, or right and left, a centre, surface, a
diameter, thus in order that there may be a where. But in the supreme world, all respect
of place is from soul to soul, since these are entirely distinct from each
other; nor can these substances of the soul be separated, for one recognizes,
feels, knows the other, even if it were as far off respectively as the sun from the
earth, or star from star. When, indeed, such gross organs of vision as the eye
can reach even from the earth to the sun and stars, what may not the the sight
of the soul, the intelligence, include, capable as it is of being named a
spiritual sympathy ?
Since nothing prevents the
coming together again of these substances of the soul, it is therefore only our
ignorance of the purer world which deceives us, and suggests a dissipation
which in that world is an impossibility. Especially since the omnipresence of
the Divine Spirit aCting upon all souls cannot suffer that anything pertaining
to any one should be separated. For there is a Spirit which unites all things
beneath itself, joining the concordant, disjoining the discordant, and so
colle&ing together all souls. This follows of necessity, since if we
consider the influx of this universal Spirit, it cannot do otherwise than
join together all things
that have respeft to one body, and vice versa.
(517.) When similar
phenomena occur in the world and in the lower and less perfect nature, why not
in the superior and most perfect ? For there nothing exists which is irregular,
but only that which is most harmonious, concordant, and united. It is well
known that shrubs, plants, flowers, roses, burned to dust are brought to life
again in water, their vegetative lives or spiritual essences being as it were
excited anew by some means. The very figure itself being thus excited, if by
the breaking of the vessel it falls back into its ashes it yet again revives ;
and thus sometimes these parts cannot be so disjoined and separated but that
they will come back into their pristine form, and unite again in their ancient
friendship and habit after these vicissitudes, and indeed in such wise that
they unite again into exactly their first form. Why then should not human souls
do likewise after the destruction of the body?
(518.) I need not speak of
those manifest sympathies also recognized in this lower world, which are so
numerous as to forbid their being rehearsed. So great is this sympathy and
this kind of magnetism that it may often be communicated among thousands of
persons. These phenomena are, however, by some reckoned as mere idle ' tales ;
still experience itself establishes their truth, nor would I care to relate
that the shades of certain ones after the death and obsequies of the body have
become visible, which thing could never have happened (even admitting the
fa<St, which I do not,) unless the animal spirit were mutually conjoined,
and not separated from their common fellowship. At least such a bond and love
intervene between the constituent parts of the body itself that these p.
eserve a mutual relation and can not be separated ; and this, too, is the
reason of the mutual love of those who love as to the body.
(519.) That every
substance of the soul associates to
STATE OF THE SOUL AFTER
DEATH. 325 itself
another such substance is evident from the love of parents toward their
offspring, whose soul the parent, because he knows it to be taken from his
own, so inwardly knows and loves that he wishes again to be joined to it and to
enter into it, which he endeavours in vain to do by kisses and embraces. What,
then, will not the several parts of the universal soul of one body desire ?
(520.) Meanwhile this must
be confessed, that the soul of one would never be distinct from that of another
if the state of the one were absolutely similar to that of the other. But since
it is provided that there shall always be some difference between souls,
therefore they cannot be conjoined, but each soul must form its own body and
must live its own life. Thus one soul knows the fellow substance which belongs
to itself and its own system, and so, drawn by a certain sympathetic love, it
is unable to unite itself with any other substance, for that is not its own,
and cannot be united with itself into one body. A universal Divine providence
therefore reigns in distinguishing particulars from particulars, so that no one
soul shall be precisely like another.
(521.) But it is asked,
What is to be the form of the soul in heaven, whether similar to the bodily
form, or another which is called angelic ? and then, whether the angelic form
is like the human form ? This indeed I do not think, that we are to put on the
human form. For
such a form exists solely
for use in the lowest world. In heaven, souls are like birds, nor do they have
intercourse with any earth ; they have no need of feet or arms, hence neither
of muscles, that is, of flesh and bones, for they are spirits; nay, they
require neither the red blood,nor ventricle, nor intestine, nor mesentery; for
these things belong to the reception of food, to chylifaftion, to nutrition,
STATE OF THE SOUL AFTER
DEATH. 327 the making of blood, and
similar uses. Nor is there need of heart, inasmuch as there is neither red
blood, nor liver, nor pancreas,
nor spleen. Neither are there teeth, jaws, throat, trachea, lungs, nor tongue ;
there is no use of air. of respiration, speech, digestion^ neither ear nor eye,
for where there is no air there is no sound, and where no earth exists, there
is no vision, nor could this be of any use. Even the members of the brain, with
the meninges, and the medullae oblongata and spinalis, will there be of no
use; with the use itself perishes all necessity for their being. For what use
could the generative organs exist ? All these things will serve for no use as
soon as we become spirits and angelic forms. Hence it would appear that the
soul is not to receive that form which is imperfect and not celestial ; unless,
as some hold the opinion, there shall be created a new earth and a new
atmospheric heaven into which we shall be admitted like new inhabitants.
(522.) But it is asked,
What form shall we have ? This we can no more know than the silkworm, which
when a miserable worm crawls over its leaves, but after its long- endured
labours is turned into an aurelia and flies away a butterfly. It does not know
that it is to have an entirely different body which shall agree with the atmosphere
in which it is to live ; it does not know that it will take on wings and be
provided with members adequate to that [new] life. And so with ourselves. We
are grossly ignorant about the nature of that purest aura which is called
celestial, and in which souls are to live, being completely furnished with such
a form that, like birds in our atmosphere, they may everywhere traverse their
spaces and fly through universes and heavens, their members and their form
being exactly adapted to that life. Therefore until we know what that aura is,
and what life we are to live in it, we are wholly unable to say what form we
shall put on. This only may be said, that our future form is not to be such as
this present one, but
rather the most perfeft of
all; a form into which we shall be changed as nymphae and aureliae are changed
to more perfeft forms ; a form to which our souls also aspire, and for this
reason often would accelerate the death of the body; for this aspiration
is inborn in the soul, and is not communicated to the body.
(523.) In the meanwhile,
when the soul is left to itself, and is no longer connected with the organic
forms necessary for the pursuit of the corporeal life there, it seems to be
able to put on any form it may wish. So that if it should descend from heaven
to earth, in a moment it might take the human form; for universal nature is so
formed that it shall serve the spiritual life as an instrumental cause, so that
it at once flows into conformity whenever the soul commands. Just as in the
body, for the soul or spirit commands according as this or that aft may agree
with its will, and at once the body submits and hastens to obey. The soul
wishes to view the visible world, at once the eye is shaped for every form of
modification; it wishes to hear, and at once the wonderful organism of the ear
exists ; it wishes to walk, to fly, to swim, at once are provided the feet, the
wings, the fins ; and so with infinite other desires and capacities. Nay, the
soul of the infant is often affefted by the strong desire or by the fear of the
soul of the mother in such a way that according to this single impression, a
mouse, a frog, a rose, or other objefl appears upon the part of the body
touched. These are evidences that nature readily hastens to obey when the soul
commands. Accordingly after death, when dissolved from these organic bonds,
whatever form it wishes as agreeing with its state, it would
seem capable of assuming. If, therefore, it should descend to earth, at once it
would put on the human form ; nay, if occasion should require any other animal
form, to will this would be all that is necessary, everything else follows of
itself. Nor would these be miraculous occurrences, for it would be no more
contrary to nature than that one form out of an egg should put on a human form,
or should in the skin show the mark of the dormouse, or similar impressions
made during the tender period of growth. The soul is constituted in freedom of
determination, nor is it any longer limited as on earth. It can likewise put
off that form, and dissipate it in an instant; yea, it can present a burning
countenance and the like, as in the recorded appearances of the cherubim and
the seraphim, and [the angels appearing to the] shepherds. The reason is that
the whole form is from the soul, the very elements being at once assumed out of
the surrounding atmospheres, and disposed in its intelle&ories and organs.
(524.) For even these
essential determinations of the form depend on their action and interior
principle within, in the soul. The soul is not carried away with the affections
of any animus into these or those impulses, but solely into the uses which are
necessary. To love novelties, varieties, curiosities, is natural to the animus
and also to the rational mind ; for to these there is nothing which is not
unknown. Not so with the soul, from which nothing is hidden. Wherefore it is
never carried away by curious desire. It follows as a consequence that the soul
forms for itself its intelleCtories, which it disposes in harmonious order,
since without arrangement and subordination, and co-ordination, nothing
intellectual can be carried on ; and therefore it also follows that the form of
the body is purely a celestial one such
as is the intel- loCtory ; but as to whether it be a vortical form, this indeed
we may surmise, although these are among the secret things, and at best but
mere conjectures. If any one sees them, reason alone has convinced him of them.
When we live as souls perhaps we ourselves shall laugh at what we have guessed
at in so childish a manner.
(525.) It is not to be
believed that in our soul-existence we shall be wise in the same manner as
while we were living in our rational mind or human intellect, in which there is
always, however, more of ignorance than of understanding. This mind, or our
thought, as it appears to us, becomes entirely extinft, and the life of the
soul remains, which is ignorant of nothing, but of itself knows everything;
wherefore it is science itself and pure intelligence, which however does not
speak or express its meaning by voice or words, these being so many material
ideas, but it embraces at once everything which pertains to the subject of
thought. For the intelligence of the soul is the same in the infant as in the
adult and aged ; it is what flows into our thought and makes us able to
understand and philosophically to connect together all things which we think.
Wherefore after death there is no such impure intellect; but when the soul
flies away from the body it is like going from a dense shade into the open
sunlight or coming out of a dark dungeon into the city of Rome, or into the
whole world, or like a blind man being restored to sight. For the truths of our
mind are mere hypotheses, fallacious principles, appearances, opinions, and the
like; but those of the soul are the veriest truths themselves.
(526.) But the soul, being
pure intelligence and a spiritual essence, is above all sciences and
doftrines; for these are natural, and stand still or go groping around far beneath.
The soul knows the secret things of these sciences, which can never be
penetrated by the mind, although always approached. For the mind is no more
able to utter these hidden things than algebra its series of infinites
expressed by the differential calculus in a long series, and incapable of
reduction by the integral calculus. Therefore as to its state of intelligence
one soul is precisely like another.
(527.) But as regards its
state of wisdom, one soul is never absolutely similar to the soul of another.
For one
has within it more perfeft
and purer loves; it loves God above itself, and its neighbour as
itself, thus the soul of one is ruled by Divine love ; but that of another
loves contrary things and hates what the former loves, and thus is rather to be
called diabolical. From the study . of spiritual loves it is manifest how far
souls may differ.
Therefore there are divine
souls or those belonging to the divine society, and there are those which are
diabolical belonging to the infernal society. All nevertheless enjoy the most
perfeft intelligence of the good and the true, but are affefted with either the
love or the hatred of these.
(528.)
This nature souls derive in the corporeal life, and indeed by means of the
rational mind. For the soul is then in the process of being formed into a good
or evil state, but not into the intelligence of the true and the good. How the
soul is affefted has already been shown, and also what divine means ought to
concur for improving and perfefting the state of the soul, for rendering it
more complete and restoring to it its first divine image. But still when the
body has left and the rational mind has become extinft, then the human soul has
been formed; and so much and of such quality as it is it remains forever. For
nothing can be present to improve it more. There is no influx from a changeable
mind, or one that may be perfefted or depraved. The rational mind alone is
capable of this. There is no struggle between it [the soul] and the animus, or
between the loves of each, thence no hope of viftory. The intelligence is pure
and most perfeft; there is therefore no changeableness in it, by which another
state of the soul might be brought on. It is not annexed to any organic
form which it obeys; in a word, such as it is it remains
forever, particularly as regards its loves and spiritual
aversions, consequently as to eternal felicity or unhappiness.
(529.)
Nor can this prevent the soul’s knowing every thing which its mind ever
experienced in the body, or which the soul by means of the mind may have
acquired in the world while an inhabitant of it. Since the intelligence is
pure it follows of necessity that it shall know again and be conscious of the
particular things which are in every verity and in every goodness ; for
otherwise it would not be a pure intelligence, but rather a confused ignorance.
From the changes of its own state or from its acquired state itself, it knows
all causes, infinite as they are; for there is not the least aft voluntarily
done but that the will, the desire, and the end of it has affefted the soul,
and in some way contributed to its state, and hence from its own state the soul
knows.every cause; it knows most perfectly that which in its own rational mind
has been operating as a cause; and it also sees beforehand most perfectly what
to expert, whether the happy or the unhappy.
(530.) Therefore it enjoys
the memory of the past; not such as is the memory and reminiscence of our
sensory, which is given up to material ideas and images, but such as is pure
and most perfeft, so that not the least moment of the past life is hidden from
it, not even a word which has contributed to the changing of its state. For all
this the soul understands, not from any memory but from its own aftual state,
since all things past are present to it; yea, even in natural things, where is
the conneftion of causes and of contingencies there is the presence of all
future things; this flows from the intelleft alone, which is the pure
intelligence.
(531.) The soul itself
cannot change its own state any better then the body its deformed countenance,
distorted mouth, its humped back, or the muscle causing the distortion or
bringing on the change of state; all this inheres as a natural [deformity] in
the body; and the more it wishes to mend itself the more it becomes deformed,
so is it affefted by its self-consciousness.
(532.) In the meantime,
the soul possessed of such a state of intelligence cannot otherwise than know
every thing which takes place in the heavens and earths; in the heavens by the
communication of operations which cannot be otherwise than most perfect, when
there exists in this life such a communication of minds and a kind of sympathy
between friends and relatives. Granting such a communication of souls this also
can be described; for the soul is occupied with its perpetual intuition of
things past and present at the same time, and the celestial aura and common spirit
of all things intervenes, which makes it impossible for the operations of one
soul not to be communicated to another, since otherwise without communion
there would be no connection of souls by love. This may be compared with our
bodily hearing and vision; for there are auras and atmospheres which
communicate to any distance things which occur most remotely, yea, the sight
even takes in objeCts proceeding from the sun. Why should not the soul, which
is pure intelligence, perceive the particular things which go on in other souls
where- ever they are ? Such a communion as this is a logical consequence
resulting from the celestial aura, when its existence is admitted, and from the
Divine spirit embracing all things, and from mutual
love as its effeCt; but this communication is not susceptible of comparison
with that effeCted by the bodily senses, the sight and the hearing, since
nothing occurring in the universe can be hidden from the soul, for the
intellectual sight can terminate only with the limit of the universe, as is
evident from ocular vision.*
♦ Here a passage is wanting; after
the Author’s page 109 follows m. The subject of page no, which is continued on
page in, would seem to have been, Concerning Heaven, or the Society of
Happy Souls. [The Editor of the Latin edition.
Concerning Heaven, or the Society of Happy
Souls.
(533-) Such is the
difference of souls and of minds, such the perpetual dissensions, strifes,
controversies, as well in things of philosophy as of theology, and in worldly
and corporeal affairs, that one animus never agrees with another. Therefore so
many schisms, heresies, and controversies are tolerated as though by special
providence of God, and also so great power is allowed the devil at the same
time, in order that he may disjoin the lower and the intellectual minds of men,
and thus impress upon each soul its own special state. This also seems to have
been the cause why it was permitted to Adam to commit sin. For in the first age
the soul of no one was distinguished from that of another, and thus there was
no society. From this cause also seems to have resulted the striCt prohibition
of parents from entering into marriage with sons and daughters, and of brothers
with sisters, and many other circumstances which would tend to conjoin souls;
also that marriages are declared to be contracted and confirmed in God.
Nevertheless, proofs are extant of the Divine Providence in the contracting of
marriages, even to the least particulars. God also leaves every one his own
free choice in aCting, and as it were decrees that the liberty of any one shall
not suffer the least injury, but rather that every one shall be permitted to
rush into his own destruction or that of others; since the liberty itself of
human souls is the sole means of disjoining the lower minds, and hence also the
souls of those who are mutually affeCted.
(534.) The Divine
Providence operates therefore especially in distinguishing particulars from
particulars, inasmuch as it is the end itself of creation that there shall be
a most perfeft society of human souls. For the ultimate end ought to be that
which is the first and the last of creation, all things else being means to
this end, as will appear if we examine each separately. The progression itself
of means extends even beyond nature. Can any one say that an earthly society
can be the ultimate end, when the body exists on account of the soul ? Must
there then not be some further end on account of which the soul, and heaven,
and the universal exist ? Can there be any other end than that there may be a
society and kingdom of God to be constituted of all human souls ? These conclusions
are so clear that we do not know whether they can be called in doubt, and so
manifest that they are capable of confirmation from everything existing in the
world.
(535-) Since therefore no
soul is absolutely similar to another, but rather some difference or diversity
of state intervenes between all, this has come about not merely that souls may
be mutually distinguished, but that the most perfeft form of society may thence
arise. In a perfeft form of society there ought to be not only a variety among
all, but such variety that the particulars shall so accord as to constitute at
the same time a society in which there shall be no want which some one may not
supply. Such a form there is in the atmospheric world itself or in the
macrocosm, and such there is in every body between its constituent parts, be it
the fibres, the cortical glands, or other parts. This variety I call harmonical
; it is such, in fine, that all the various parts are mutually related by a
certain natural analogy, and thus constitute a society which may be one. For nothing can coalesce and as it
were constitute , one form unless there be an analogy between the determining parts
and the determinations. Hence arises conjunftion, and hence it is that harmony
is pleasing and conjoins, but disharmony is unpleasant and disjoins. Therefore
a form of government can by no means be called perfect unless there be in it a
variety, and in that a harmony wherein every one has relation to another
rightly, according to natural laws. The analogical or harmonical similitude
itself resembles identity and union. In no other way is it possible for a most
perfect society, or form of society, to be instituted.
(536.) But that harmonious
variety does not consist in the external variety, but in the spiritual variety
of souls and of love toward God and the neighbour, since the state of the soul
imports solely its spiritual state, namely, that it may be near to its God. So
long as any difierence or any distinction is wanting, just so long may it be
said that a certain place is wanting in heaven ; so that al] differences are
to be supplied before the most perfeCt form can exist.
(537.) But are there to be
many societies, and as it were many heavens, out of which is to arise a
universal society which is called the kingdom of God ? This seems also a
possible induction ; for all variety, even that which is spiritual, supposes
some order, subordination, and coordination ; so that in the earth one
particular society has reference to another, and all taken together constitute
a kingdom. This seems to follow as a conclusion from the supposed admitted
variety of the state of souls. For that the form of governments may be perfeCt
it is necessary that all the societies shall produce 1 general harmony among
themselves, just as the several members constitute each a particular harmony.
(538.) This is called the
kingdom of God ; but the true kingdom of God is on this earth, which is the
seminary of that kingdom above. This is not confined to any certain religion
or church but is spread over the whole globe ; since God chooses its members
out of all, namely out of those who had really loved God more then themselves
and their neighbours as themselves. For this is the law of all laws ; in this
culminate all rights, as well natural as divine ; all other things, including
ecclesiastical and other forms, are means which lead to this. This His church
God collects from the universal globe, until all places shall be occupied ;
allowing that difference in the form of government still to remain which is
necessary in order that the most perfeCt unity may result.
(539-) But there could be
no such society without its head or chief, who should be indeed a man without
offence or wrong, the conqueror of all the affections of the lower mind, the
embodiment of virtue itself and piety itself, loving God above self, and his
associates as neighbours; thus a divinity in himself, in whom the universal
society would be represented, and through whom the members of the society might
have access to their Deity. Without such a king of souls, in vain would a
society be collected, exist, and subsist. This also follows of necessity from
the admitted form of the government, from the disparity of the states of all,
and from the nearness of God through love. This form would therefore be
constituted wholly by those purer ones of every degree, consequently by the
purest of all, who should be without sin, that is, by our Saviour and Preserver
Jesus Christ, in whom, through faith and love, we are alone enabled to approach
the Divine throne.
(540.) Behold the form of
the government of society or of celestial societies, yea, the kingdom of God
briefly shadowed forth ! The form of the government itself cannot wholly
differ from the perfeft form of government of earthly societies ; at least,
whatever feature in these is imperfeft is there most perfeft ; and those are
spiritual loves which distribute the dignities, and they are nearer to their
chief; thus also each one possesses his own heaven and enjoys his own
happiness.
(541.) In such a society
there cannot but reign every joy, happiness, and felicity, replete with the
inmost essence and most delicious sense of love and of virtues. But no tongue
can describe that felicity, and those joys, for they exceed by infinite degrees
corporeal delights, which in comparison stand as shadows or mere trifles of
delight, and hardly to be counted as such. If human delights which are innocent
should be exalted to their highest degree or concentrated in the
inmost, then some idea might seem to be formed of it. It is a universal society
whose units are to be counted by myriads; it is the most perfeft communion of
all, or a perfeft consociation of spiritual minds, such that whatever is in
one mind is common to another ; thus there is one soul in the society, and likewise
every variety possible in the universe, which diffuses and at the same time
concentrates the felicities of mind. The happiness is concentrated upon each
one of the society, and by each one it is diffused, and thus it is multiplied
infinitely, if there are many societies, constituting among themselves also a
form of government and of variety. For whatever was once pleasant in life and
at the same time pure is now exalted to the highest degree; nor is the
communication of minds effefted by means of language, but by a certain aflivity
of mind, whence comes the angelic speech, which expresses nothing whatever by
words or by material ideas, but is able at once and by one operation to
express what we can only do by thousands of words. The sight is not ocular but
internal, so that we may know what goes on in the universal
society with its infinite variety. For there is an intuition of all past things
as if present, that is, as if divining by the aid of all things that ever have
been on the earth. There is a representation of the universal heaven; in a
word, the infinite varieties which suffuse souls with ineffable delights. Nor
does an impure love exist there, but the pure friendship which has succeeded
in its place. Nor is there any thought of the future, or desire, hope, or
anxiety. All things are there without anxiety, and without fear of loss ; most
constant, eternal. Hence the veneration and adoration of their Deity, in whose
praise the heavens of heavens resound ; the other spiritual delights being
elevated thereby to a still higher degree. But these are only a few of the
features of that life; for to narrate them all were impossible. Such seems to
be that most distinct life which is life indeed ; whereas the bodily life is
only a representation of that life, its shadow and its dream. For to live is
to understand and to be wise, and to live by love with Him who is life itself
is verily to live.
(542.) From these
observations it follows that by unanimous consent [the blessed ones] conspire
to the glory of their Lord and to the love of the citizens in heaven and on
earth; for the joy is elevated according to the number of those associated, and
at the same time the inmost rejoice in love that the kingdom of God is
increased, for this is the effeft of either love. At length from so many pure
minds the common animus of the society is inspired, just as in our
body, for one animus or lower mind is inspired by the minds of the
intelleftories. So it is with the common intelleft. What influx, however, that
common animus has into our souls, this is not to be described here; for the
communication of that society with us takes place only through our souls.
Therefore may Thy kingdom come and Thy will be done on earth as in the heavens!
XXX.
Concerning
Hell, or the Society of Unhappy
Souls.
(543.) The society of
those who live in the contrary loves, or in hatred to God and their neighbour,
is called infernal, diabolical, unhappy. It exists wholly in order that there
may be every variety interposed between the two, and indeed actually ; for in
the spiritual idea of the soul there can be no existence which is not actual,
since the soul is pure intelligence, nor is it obstructed with any shades of
ignorance. Nor can intermediate things exist without their opposites, for their
quality is only known by knowing their relations in opposition ; hence the
devil adually exists, and an infernal society or a society burning with the
love of destroying the heavenly society. Without such an evil society the
blessed would not be kindled with any zeal and ardour, nor would their souls
burn with eager desire to proteCt the church. Thus they feel their happiness
increased by the existence of a life contrary to their own.
(544.) Into this society
come all souls which hold in hatred God and the neighbour; from their
principles, that is from their love, flow forth crimes and wickednesses of
every sort. They are defiled with vices ; they themselves suffer most deeply
from their own consciences, when they behold with open eyes the truths which in
this life they had endeavoured to dissipate with specious arguments and
sophistic reasonings. But when there is no ignorance, only a bare knowledge of
truths, as after death, in souls, and when the state of the soul has been
already deformed, and has so drawn down that nature that it cannot return to
its more beautiful state, then it cannot help suffering the most deep and
intense anguish and torture. And because- this suffering is spiritual and in
the soul it cannot be described in words nor conceived in ideas, for it
surpasses flames, the gnashing of teeth, and many other punishments of earth.
It is as though they were inwardly suffering from blazing and boiling oil
poured from an inexhaustible vessel.
(545.) That this society
also should be provided with its leader and chief would seem to be undeniable,
because all these souls constitute one society or hell, and without a leader
one would rush upon another like Erinnyes and Furies.t No higher or mutual love
conjoins these souls, but only the fear of their leader or chief, to whom
perhaps is given the power of torturing the subject souls as often as they do
not perform their duty. And so long as it is a society, there seems to be some
hope remaining of warring against heaven, and of exalting oneself to the
throne. They know, indeed, the impossibility of this, but nevertheless a pure
hatred so persuades them. Therefore so long as they enjoy any hope, and as this
grows from the increase of their numbers, they seem in some manner to be happy,
not inwardly but superficially, just as the envious are inwardly pained at the
misfortune of even an unknown person [not from sympathy or love, but because]
this reminds them of the misery that they themselves are to endure forever.
(546.) But nevertheless,
in the Last Judgment, when the splendour of omnipotence, omnipresence, wisdom,
justice and Divine love, shall shine forth most fully, so that each one may
view his previous life clearly depicted in his own state, and without the
sentence being pronounced may know of what punishment he is worthy, since all
things will then be manifest, although in the mediate light of wisdom, then
this society shall lose all hope, and shall contemplate in full view its
eternal ruin ; and while it beholds not only the kingdom of God, but also the
felicity of the members of that society, so completely and purely revealed,
hatred becomes changed into envy, and envy into misery and
anxieties. Then it is that this distracted form of society, from its own
inward hatred, as though of a furious madness, rushes violently one upon
another ; and through the communion of souls agreeing in their hatred toward
heavenly society, but discordant among themselves, one becomes the devil-tyrant
of another, with all reins let loose in utter freedom ; much as it is on earth
when liberty is subjected to no restraint.
(547.) This, although the
largest society, shall after the Judgment cease to be a society ; and although
it would do so, it shall nevertheless avail nothing against the least society of heaven; for these are most closely conjoined in mutual love,
yea, bound together under the Divine love. But infernal souls are only united
under their chief, unconnected by*any mutual love, but rather disjoined in
perpetual hatred, and besides separated by God the Unitor. So is the least
handful of celestial souls able to put to flight a whole army of the impious ;
especially since these are afraid of themselves, and
flee from the truth which they contemplate in themselves,
and are therefore without any self-confidence. Hence one blessed soul may put
to flight many thousand souls of the unhappy.
(548.) The ancients, both
philosophers and physicists and the pagan priests, by common consent have
confirmed the doctrine of infernal sufferings. They have described their
punishments, that of Tantalus and others, also Erebus, Styx, the Erinnyes, the
Furies. Pythagoras, Plato and others have thought still more regarding these
subjects ; for by their light of nature they have seen that by no means can
they be happy who have not in this life prepared for themselves a way through
virtue to happiness.
XXXI.
Concerning the Divine Providence.
(549.) There is no one, I
think, so insane as to deny that there is a certain supreme
direction or Divine providence ; for all things are full of Deity, and we
admire in each and every thing the order which is attributed to nature and its
perpetual preservation not by itself, which would be absurd, but by some higher
Being from whom it has existence and consequently subsistence. We see blended
together a multitude of phenomena going to prove a regulating providence, as
that all things seem to be for the sake of use or an end, especially that one
end seems to exist on account of another, so that there may be a series of
ends, from a certain first, through intermediates, to a last or [another]
first. But for example : The earth itself exists that it may be inhabited by
animated beings, the mineral kingdom that it may produce the vegetable, the
vegetable that it may nourish and sustain the animal, the lower species of
animals that they may serve the higher, and all that they may serve the human
race ; the atmospheres that we may be enclosed and held in in the body, and
that we may breathe and talk; the ether with the sun that each being may exist,
and also that we may see. But why mention more? There is not a worm, nor a
plant, nor blade of grass without its use, namely, that it may serve as a means
to a certain end ; so that the visible world is a complex
of means to an end beyond the world or beyond its own nature ; for there is a
progression of ends through natural effects, and thus through universal nature.
That there is such a perpetual relation and progress of ends, namely, that one
is always for the sake of another, is to be held as attributable to a Divine
providence ; indeed, as indicating that God has so provided all particulars
that they shall maintain this their order.
(550.) The universe, with
each most particular thing in it, is the work of God alone, for nothing could
flow from itself. What can exist without an origin ? If the origin belong to
nature itself, whence then is nature, unless you worship that as God ? And if
these are the works of God, it is necessary that He sustain them, for without
perpetual sustentation all things would relapse into their primitive chaos.
Thence He must be actually omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent; and if omnipotent
it follows that He provides for each and every thing in order that there may
be ends intermediate to a further end. To rule and provide for a universe is
the Divine itself and property of Divinity ; nor has this need of counsel nor
of care. For from itself and its own essence, wisdom and love, all these things
flow in their connection, order, and their genuine series.
(551.) If there is a
universal providence of God there is also a particular one, for the universal
never exists without particulars from which it is called universal. Of what
quality is the universal can be judged from the particulars ; thus from
providence in most particular things may be judged what it is in the universal,
nor would there be any universal unless it concerned itself with particulars;
and this, indeed, in the case of providence, in order that all these may
conspire to universal ends.
(552.) All providence
regards an end, and it foresees means to an end ; thence is the future embraced
in the present, and the present is as the complex of the past. So is there a
series of means to a certain end, which is the first in the mediates and in the
ultimates. But of what nature is the Divine providence we may see much better
from examples than from bare axioms.
(553-) The end of creation,
or the end on account of which the world was created, could be no other than
the first and the last, or the most universal of all ends, and that which is
perpetually reigning in the created universe, which is the complex of means
conspiring to that end. No other end of creation can be given than that there
may exist a universal society of souls, or a heaven, that is, the kingdom of
God. That this was the end of creation may be proved by innumerable arguments ;
for it would be absurd to say that the world was created on account of the
earth and terrestrial societies, and this miserable and perishable life ; since
all things on earth are for the sake of man, and all things in man for the sake
of his soul, and the soul cannot be for no end. If, then, it exists for any
end, it must be for a society in which God is present; for His providence
regards souls which are spiritual, and His works are adapted to men and to
their consociation.
(554.) In order that a
celestial society, or society of souls may exist, it is necessary that there be
a most perfect form of government, namely, souls distinct among themselves,
and every possible variety, which may be called harmonies between the souls ;
and so from such harmony there will arise a consensus and accord which shall
produce that entire effeft and end which is always foreseen and provided.
(555.) Let there be this
most universal end, which is at once the first, the all in the mediates, and
the last, and thus the same as the first, and we shall see at once how the
Divine providence reigns in foreseeing and dispensing the mediates. It may be
said God might create such a society at once, without our earth and worldly
things; that is, He might fill heaven with souls without any generation and
multiplication in this earth. This, indeed, cannot be denied; all things to God
are possible. But there are also innumerable things which are to Him
impossible; for instance, to be imperfect, mortal, inconstant, wicked, unjust.
This is repugnant to His nature;
and because
such a society [as we have described], whose form is most perfeft, can in no
wise be given without every variety, even from the most perfeft to the most imperfeft,
from the pure to the impure, from love to hatred; or because there are
intermediates from given opposites, thus between the highest good or God and
the greatest evil or the Devil; therefore from these premises it would follow
that God, because He is perfection itself, wisdom, goodness and love, could in
no wise create immediately any devil nor any soul in whom evil or any guilt
should reside; hence not man together with vice, crime and sin, and hence not
such a variety as is required for such a society as we have described. For
whatever immediately flowed from God could not be otherwise than the best and
the most perfeft. But that the evil and the imperfeft should have come into
existence can be traced not immediately to God as a cause, but to the created
subjeft itself in which it is a nature. Thus it is from the Devil himself that
he arose against his God and became a rebel; it was from Adam that he did
contrary to the Divine commandment, seeking how he might enjoy a higher and
more perfeft existence. It is clear from the Sacred Scriptures that the Divine
providence did not lead Adam immediately to this evil, but that it permitted
it; that it permitted the serpent; that it forbade to him the tree ; that it
created Adam free, and did not instruft him ; that in the moment that he ate he
was not checked and made to abstain, as was Abraham when he would sacrifice his
son ; beside many other things which clearly demonstrate that there was a
providence that he should be able to sin, and a foreknowledge that he would
sin, and lose his pristine integrity, and thus that this result should flow as
from the very principle of his being, namely, that souls are to be
distinguished one from another, and that every possible variety must exist
between them ; and so the end of creation or the kingdom of God be reached,
whose seminaries are terrestrial societies, which likewise represent the
heavenly society. For there is nothing given in this world which does not
contain a representation of the future world.*
That this end
may be obtained it is necessary that man shall be allowed a free will. The
cause of variety of subjects arises solely from free exercise and liberty of
the will. Without this there would be no intellect, no morality, no virtue, no
vice, no crime, no guilt, no affection of the mind or change of state. This is
the reason why God has wished to preserve the free human will strong and
inviolate, even for the doing of evil deeds ; so that we would seem to be
almost willing to deny a Divine providence for the same reason that we would
affirm it. But the liberty allowed to human minds is not absolute, but limited.
It is like a bird which the fowler holds bound by its foot or tied with a
string, and which can move about to a certain distance; it is provided that it
shall not go beyond this limit.
(556.) The
means which restrict the free wills of men are numerous. There are, for
instance, societies, and the forms of their government, laws,
punishments of the body, judges, all things done in order that men shall not
abuse their free will; there are consciences, and laws, and rights
impressed on our minds, which are the most stringent bonds. There is religion
or Divine worship, the fear of eternal punishments and condemnation, and the
love and hope of happiness; this therefore may be called the bond of society
and of societies. There is a certain fate which follows every one and abides
with him continually, according to his crimes or his virtues. Concerning this
we shall treat further on. There is especially the cause of fate, the influx of
God Himself by His Spirit into souls, which nevertheless exist as contingently
as if nothing was by provision or consultation.
(557.) Meanwhile, unless such means had been pro-
“Alles
vergangliche ist ein Gleichness” (Goethe). [7>. vided,
and God Himself had been acting as the ruler and establisher of all, no human
society whatever could have existed, where one always seeks the destruction of
another and desires to despoil him of his goods, and when many esteem
themselves higher than societies, and imagine that all things exist for
themselves alone. Such a society, animated by a spirit destructive of society
itself, nevertheless exists entire, and this could not be the case without a
Divine providence.
(558.) The very Divine providence itself principally reigns in
distinguishing particulars from particulars, lest there should be given one
state of mind absolutely like another. On this account liberty is granted.
Marriages are said to be foreordained in heaven ; marriages of parents and
children, of brothers and sisters are wholly forbidden ; schisms and
controversies, as well of religion as of principles of economy, politics,
philosophy and physics, are tolerated and almost inspired ; all differ in their
principles, and thence in their mental dispositions, so that we say “many
heads, many minds Nature herself
abhors every
equality between one thing and another ; for such would be one and the same,
and there would be nothing distincSt, and hence nothing natural.
(559-)
Providence reigns both particularly and universally in selecting and
foreseeing those who are to attain to heavenly happiness ; for the human race
is the seminary itself [of heaven], and the City of God or the Church is
scattered throughout the universal world, and from thence is the celestial
society collected. Thus all those who are called the eleft are ruled by a
peculiar providence of God.
(560.) This is
the principal end, and these the means leading to that end ; but there are
still infinite means which in their essence as means pursue either mediately or immediately
this series of ends, whether as pertaining to things mundane and corporeal or
to things spiritual. In regard to things corporeal in order that the body may
be covered or clothed, the whole globe furnishes the vestments, yea, even the
worms do this ; and as food is also necessary that man may live in the body,
this is also provided. As for mundane affairs, there are the wealth and
possessions necessary for civil existence, also the sciences, and innumerable
other things. For the spiritual interests of man it is revealed of what nature
heaven is, what the will is, how God is to be adored, and by what means the
state of the soul is to be perfected so that it may be a member of heaven, and
this in such manner that its liberty may not be injured, but that it may
freely turn itself to God.
(561.) But concerning
pr evidence, fate, for tune, predestination, and hitman prudence, we have
already treated; which passages see and add
XXXII.
The Universal Mathesis, or a
Mathematical Philosophy of Universals.
(562.) The celebrated
Locke, in his treatise on The Human Understanding, says :—
“The ideas which form the
basis of morality being all real essences, and of such a nature that they
sustain a mutual connexion and adaptation, which may be discovered, it follows
that as soon as we discover these relations, we shall to that point be in
possession of so many real, certain, and general truths ; and I am sure that in
following a good method one might bring a large part of moral science to such a
degree of evidence and certitude, that an attentive and judicious man would no
longer find in it any matter of doubt, more than he would in propositions of
mathematics which have been demonstrated to him” (Book iv., ch. xii., section
8).
And elsewhere: “Perhaps,
if one should consider distinctly and with all possible care the kind of
science which proceeds upon the basis of ideas and words, this would produce a
logic and a critique different from those^ hitherto seen” (Book iv., ch. xxi.,
section 4).
Again : “ I do not doubt
but that in the state and present constitution of our nature, human knowledge
may be carried far beyond any point thus far attained, if men will undertake
sincerely and with entire mental freedom to perfeCt the means of discovering
the truth with the same application and the same industry which they employ in
colouring and maintaining a falsity, in defending a sys- tern of which they are
declared partisans, or certain interests in which they are engaged ” (Book
iv., ch. iii., section 6).
Further: “The highest
degree of our knowledge is intuition without reasoning ; .... for this is
certain knowledge secure from all doubt, having no need of proof and incapable
of receiving it, because it is the highest point of all human certitude ; such
is that which the angels now possess and that which the spirits of the just
made perfeCt will attain to in the life to come. It embraces a thousand things
which at present escape entirely our understanding ; our reason in its limited
range of vision catching few gleams of them, the rest remaining veiled in
darkness from our view” (Book iv., ch. xvii., section 14).
(563.) There is given a
science of sciences, or a universal science, which contains all others in
itself, and parts of which can as it were be resolved into these and those
particular sciences. Such a science is not acquired by learning, but it is
connate, especially in souls which are pure intelligences. Such is the science
of souls released from the body, and of angels, who if they communicate their
thoughts, or converse, would seem unable to form any connection by words, which
are all material ideas and forms, and which the mind understands as signs, knowing
their meaning, and this from experience ; but the soul from this its science
contemplates all objeCts immediately as they are in themselves, thus whether good
or evil, and according to their nature it assents or is averse. Unless the soul
were furnished with such a science it would be wholly unable to flow into our
thoughts, and to infuse as it were the power of understanding and of expressing
higher things; as also it would be unable to adapt all its organic forms to the
inmost and most secret laws of mechanics, physics, chemistry, and many other
phenomena ; therefore that such a science exists there can be no doubt.
(564.) For there are
truths a priori, or propositions which are at once acknowledged as true
; nor is there need of any demonstrations a posteriori for proving them,
nor of confirmation by experience, or by the senses. , The truth itself
presents itself naked, and as it were declares itself true. The mind is often
indignant that such truths should have to be proved when they are above all
demonstration. For all harmonies, and thus all order, naturally soothe and
delight the organs of our senses, while disharmony constrains and wounds them.
So it is with truths in which there is as it were an intellectual order.
Wherefore if we were not overburdened with the fetters of sciences, with the
turbulent desires of the lower mind, and similar hindrances, we should be able
to know truths purely; since a certain consent shines forth as something
harmonious and as from a sacred shrine, I know not where.
(565.) But the reason of
this is that higher forms contain in themselves all those things which can be
contained in the lower forms, as a universal genus contains all the species ;
so that the higher form is the order itself and the principle of the following
forms, thence also of all their forces, modes and qualities; and in themselves
as of their very nature they perceive whatever agrees or disagrees with the
form, and thence all that ever is given in the lower forms, if there is a
connexion therewith, such as that of the soul with the body by means of the
organic forms.
(566.) This science indeed
may seem to be capable of being reduced to rule, but by what mode of reasoning
can be perceived from those things which are immediately around the internal
sensory; thus all ideas, both material and intellectual, are only mutations of
the state of the sensory and of the intelleCtory ; and these changes of state
can be understood from a description of the forms, especially the circular and
spiral. The soul perceives every such change, and knows what it signifies. The
changes of state are universal and singular, common and particular, general, special, and individual, and all these can be subjected to a
certain algebraic calculation, and be reduced by rules to equations in the same
manner as is customary in the calculus of infinites. In the mind itself also
all things are reduced to their equations, in which those things are together
present which before have been colledied or have taken place successively.
Those things which are in contact with the internal sensory can be raised to
higher powers or elevated to higher degrees by their proper rules; and so
changes of state still more universal exist, which contain, together and
successively, infinitely more particulars corresponding to the truths
themselves perceived by the soul from the changes of state.
(567.) Thus indeed it is possible to submit ideas of the mind to
calculation; whence arises the universal ma- thesis. But it is not possible to
deduce any certitude thence, unless there be a certitude proposed and acknowledged,
from which equations are to be commenced. I would wish also to propose one
other attempt; indeed I have ascertained its possibility ; but there are many
rules to be premised and data proposed and truths to be adjusted before I may
approach this. And still we fall at length into a certain Gordian knot and
equation, out of which greater labor is required to extricate ourselves than it
is worth while to devote to it, and from the smallest fault in reckoning we
are able to fall into many fallacies. On this account I forbear making the
attempt, and in place of it I have desired to propose a certain Key of Natural and Spiritual Mysteries by the
way of Correspondences and Representations, which
more direftly and certainly leads us into hidden truths ; and upon this doftrine, since it is as yet
unknown to the world, I ought to dwell at somewhat greater length.
APPENDIX I.
TWELVE
THESES ON “THE HUMAN SOUL.’
{From
the “Economy of the Animal KingdomPart //,)
BY EMANUEL SWEDENBORG.
I.
From the anatomy of the animal body we clearly perceive
that a certain most pure fluid glances through the subtlest fibres, remote
from even the acutest sense; that it reigns universally in the whole and in
every part of its own limited universe or body, and continues, irrigates,
nourishes, a&uates, modifies, forms, and renovates everything therein.
This fluid is in the third degree above the blood, which it enters as the
first, supreme, inmost, remotest, and most perfect substance and force of its
body, as the sole and proper animal force, and as the determining principle of
all things. Wherefore, if the soul of the body is to be the subject of
inquiry, and the communication between the soul and the body to be
investigated, we must first examine this fluid, and ascertain whether it agrees
with our predicates. But as this fluid lies so deeply in nature, no thought can
enter into it, except by the doctrine of series and degrees joined to
experience; nor can it be described, except by recourse to a mathematical
philosophy of universals.
II.
Yet this does not prevent us from perceiving, solely by
the intuitive faculty of the mind, that such a fluid, although it be the first
substance of the body, nevertheless derives its being from a still higher
substance, and proximately from those things in the universe on which the
principles of natural things are impressed by the Deity, and in which, at the
same time, the most perfect forms of nature are involved. Hence it is that it
is the form of forms in the body, and the formative substance, that draws the
thread from the first living point, and continues it afterwards to the last
point of life; and so connects one thing with another, and so conserves and
governs it afterwards, that all things mutually follow each other, and the
posterior refer themselves to the prior, and the whole with the parts, the
universal with the singulars, by a wonderful subordination and co-ordination,
refers itself to this prime form and substance, upo i which all things depend,
and by which, and for which, each thing exists in its own distinctive manner.
III.
But as this most pure fluid, or supereminent blood, has
acquired its form from the first substances of the world, it can by no means be
said to live, much less to feel, perceive, understand, or regard ends; for
nature, considered in itself, is dead, and only serves life as an instrumental
cause; thus is altogether subjeCt to the will of an intelligent being, who uses
it to promote ends by effeCts. Hence we must look higher for its principle of
life, and seek it from the First Esse or Deity of the universe, who is
essential life and essential perfection of life or wisdom. Unless this First Esse
were life and wisdom nothing whatever in nature could live, much less have
wisdom ; nor yet be capable of motion.
iv.
This life and intelligence flow with vivifying virtue
into no substances but those that are accommodated at once to the beginning of
motion, and to the reception of life; consequently into the most simple,
universal, and perfeCt substances of the animal body; that is, into its purest
fluid; and through this medium into the less simple, universal, and perfeCt substances,
or into the posterior and compound ; all of which manifest the force and lead
the life of their first substance, according to their degree of composition,
and according to their form, which makes them such as we find them to be. On
account of the influx of this life, which is the principal cause in the animate
kingdom, this purest fluid, which is the instrumental cause, is to be called
the spirit and soul of its body.
V.
But to know the manner in which this life and wisdom
flow in, is infinitely above the sphere of the human mind; there is no analysis
and no abstraction that can reach so high; for whatever is in God, and whatever
law God aCts by, is God. The only representa tion we can have of it is in the
way of comparison with light. For as the sun is the fountain of light and the
distinctions thereof in its universe, so the Deity is the sun of life and of
all wisdom. As the sun of the world flows in only one manner, and without
unition, into the subjects and objeCts of its universe, so also does the sun of
life and of wisdom. As the sun of the world flows in by mediating auras, so the
sun of life and of wisdom flow in by the mediation of His spirit. But as the
sun of the world flows into subjects and objeCts according to the modified
character of each, so also does the sun of life and of wisdom. But we are not
at liberty to go further than this into the details of the comparison, inasmuch
as the one sun is within nature, the other is above it; the one is physical,
the other is purely moral; and the one falls under the philosophy of the mind,
while the other lies withdrawn among the sacred mysteries of theology, between
which two there are boundaries that it is impossible for human faculties to
transcend. Furthermore, by the omnipresence and universal influx of this life
into created matters, all things flow constantly in a provident order from an
end, through ends, to an end.
VI.
There are, then, two distinct principles that determine
this spirituous fluid assumed as the soul; the one natural, by which it is enabled
to exist and be moved in the world; the other spiritual, by which it is enabled
to live and be wise ; of these a third, as properly its own, is compounded,
namely, the principle of determining itself into afts suitable to the ends of
the universe. But this principle of self-determination regards the ultimate
world, or the earth, where the determination takes place ; and hence the soul
thus emprincipled must descend by as many degrees as distinguish the substances
and forces of the world; and by consequence form a body adequate to . each
degree in succession. There are, then, sensory and motory organs; both of which
are distributed into four degrees. The first of the organs is the spirituous
fluid or soul, whose office it is to represent the universe, to have intuition
of ends, to be conscious, and principally to determine. The next organ under
the soul is the mind, whose office it is to understand, to think, and to will.
The third in order is the animus, whose office it is to conceive, to imagine,
and to desire. The fourth or last is constituted of the organs of the five
external senses, namely, sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. So also the
motory organs, of which the muscles are the last. These and the sensory organs
constitute the body, whose office it is to feel, to form looks and actions, to
be disposed, and to do what the higher lives determine, will, and desire.
Although there are this number of degrees, yet the animal system consists of
nothing but the soul and the body; for the intermediate organisms are only
determinations of the soul, of which, as well as of the body, they partake.
Such now is the ladder by which every operation and afleftion of the soul and
body descends and ascends.
The spirituous fluid is the first of the organs, or the
supereminent organ, in its animal body. And as it is the soul, it is seated so
high above all the other faculties, that it is their order, truth, rule, law,
science, art. Consequently its office is to represent the universe; to have
intuition of ends; to be conscious of all things; principally to determine. It
is a faculty distinft from the intellectual mind, prior and superior to, and
more universal and more perfeft than, the latter. And it flows into the
intellectual mind much after the manner of light. Consequently a notion of it
can hardly be procured while we live in the body.
VII.
The genuine progression in descending and ascending
appears to be in this wise. As the forms of the modulations or sounds of the
air in the ear are to the forms of the modifications or images of the ether in
the eye, or in the animus, so are the latter to the forms of the superior
modifications in the mind, which forms are termed intellectual and rational
ideas, in so far as they are illuminated by the light of the soul; and so
again are these forms of the mind to similar supreme forms, inexpressible by
words, in the soul, which forms are termed intuitive ideas of ends, in so far
as they are illuminated by the life of the first cause.
VIII.
The soul, from the very initial stages of conception,
which it derives in the first instance from its parent, is born accommodated
at once to the beginning of motion and to the reception of life; consequently
to all its intuition and intelligence, and it takes this intuition and intelligence
with it, from the first stamen and the earliest infancy to the most extreme old
age. But not so the mind, which before it can be illuminated by the light of
the soul, must be imbued with principles a posteriori, or through the
organs of the external senses, by the mediation of the animus. Thus as the
mind is instructed, or the way opened, so it is enabled to communicate with its
soul, which has determined and provided that the way leading to it should be
opened in this order. Hence it follows that there are no innate ideas or
imprinted laws in the human mind, but only in the soul; in which unless ideas
and laws were connate, there could be no memory of the things perceived by the
senses, and no understanding; and no animal could exist and subsist as an
organic subjeCt participant of life.
IX.
From the foregoing considerations we may infer the
nature of the intercourse between the soul and the body; for those things that
are superior flow into those that are inferior, according to the order, and
suitably to the mode, in which the substances are formed, and in which they
communicate, by their connections, with each other. If the operation of the
spirituous fluid be the soul; and if the operation of the soul in the organic
cortical substance be the mind ; and if the affeCtion of the entire brain, or
common senso- rium, be the animus; and if the faculty of feeling be in the
sensory organs ; and the faculty of aCling in the motory organs of the body;
then a diligent and rational anatomical inquiry must show the nature of the
above intercourse, and must prove that the soul can communicate with the body,
but through mediating organs, and indeed according to the natural and acquired
state of such organs.
X.
The spirituous fluid is thoroughly adapted and ready to
take upon it infinite variety, and to undergo infinite changes of state ; hence
it is in the most perfeft harmonic variety, both with respeft to the parts in
its system, and with respeft to different systems relatively to each other. By
means of this variety the soul is enabled to know everything whatever that
happens without and within the body, and that comes in contaft with the body;
and to apply its force to those things that occur within, and to give its
consent to those things that occur without. Thus we may understand what free
choice is, namely, that the mind has the power to eleft whatever it desires in
a thought direfted to one end ; hence to determine the body to aft, whether
according to what the animus wishes, or whether the contrary; but in those
matters only in which the mind has been instrufted by way of the organs; in
which it views the honourable, the useful, or the decorous as an end. But in
higher and divine things, the mind can will the means, but in respeft to the
end it must permit itself to be afted upon by the soul, and the soul by the
spirit of God. Meanwhile, this free power of doing, or leaving undone, is
granted to human minds as a means to the ultimate end of creation, which is
the glory of God.
XI.
But not so in brute animals; for their purest fluid
receives its form from the ether of the second order, not in a higher degree
than, but in the same degree as, their organism, which corresponds to that of
our mind: and in consequence of this circumstance, they are born to communication
between the soul and the body, or to all the conditions of their life; and are
carried, suitably to the order of nature, into ends that they themselves are
ignorant of.
XII.
On these premises it may be demonstrated to intelleftual
belief, that the human spirituous fluid is absolutely safe from harm by aught
that befalls in the sublunary region; and that it is indestruftible, and
remains immortal, although not immortal per se, after the death of the
body. That when emancipated from the bonds and trammels of earthly things, it
will still assume the exaft form of the human body, and live a life pure beyond
imagination. Furthermore, that not the smallest deed is done designedly in the
life of the body, and not the least word uttered by consent of the will, but shall
then appear in the bright light of an inherent wisdom, before the tribunal of
its conscience. Lastly, that there is a society of souls in the heavens, and
that the City of God upon earth is the seminary of this society, in which, and
by which, the end of ends is regarded.
APPENDIX II.
AN ABSTRACT OF
THE “EPILOGUE ON THE SENSES OR SENSATION IN GENERAL.”
{Translated
from Part IV. of the “Animal Kingdom,” as edited, in Latin,bv
Dr. J. F. Im. Tafel, Tubingen and London, 1848.)
A.
SENSATION IN GENERAL.
These general
principles are to be observed regarding all sensation :—
1.
The origin
of every sensation is from an external touch or impulse.
2.
The touch
or impulse is upon the fibres or little tunics of the fibres, and thus
external.
3.
Therefore
the fibres must be so organically disposed and formed that they may receive in
a distinct manner all the differences belonging to the various kinds of touch.
4.
The
sensations of touch, taste, and smell arise from the touch or impulse of heavy
bodies, or of the inertia of forces, that is, of parts.
5.
But the
senses of hearing and sight arise from the touch or impulse of bodies not
heavy, but of active forces, that is, of parts of the atmosphere.
6.
That
sensation may become evident and cause affeCtion there must be many differences
together in the same touch, and thus a kind of form made up of differences.
7.
The
differences of this form will be simultaneous or successive.
8.
The form
arising from the successive differences will put on the same quality as the
form of the simultaneous differences.
9.
The
organico-sensory forms are formed so as to receive in a distinct manner *he
forms of all these differences.
Especially are we to observe that:—
10.
The
organic forms of each sensory apply immediately to it these simultaneous and
successive varieties of differences.
11.
They
communicate these to the fibres from which they are composed.
12.
These
fibres, by a kind of modification or tremulation, after the analogy of strings,
according to the antecedents carry [these differences] up to their origins or
to the cortical substances.
13.
This is
done perfectly by virtue of the spiritual essence which is in the fibre.
14.
And
according to the nature of the modification and trembling, these differences
are carried to every contiguous fibre, and to every cortical substance of the
cerebrum and the cerebellum, also of the medulla oblongata and medulla
spinalis.
15.
By the
living essence which is in the spirit and in the fibres this modification
becomes sensation, the change of state gives an affection according to the form
of the modification, and so on.
16.
The soul
itself, which alone lives in the body, gives the ability to feel the qualities
of these modifications.
17.
According
to the affections arise the changes of state in the organs.
18.
This
modification of the fibres spreads out according to every form of modification
in the very beginnings or the cortical substances; for these beginnings were
formed according to this very nature.
19.
Therefore
as many differences and varieties as are in the touch and between the various
touches, so many different changes of state are undergone, for the perfection
[of these cortical substances] consist in this.
20.
From the
form of the differences and of the modifications of the changes of state thence
arising, the affections are produced; that is, pleasant ones if the changes of
state agree with the natural state, unpleasant if they disagree.
21.
Hence
every touch or mode which is represented in the sense as a unit, whether
successive or simultaneous varieties enter into it, is either pleasant or
unpleasant.
22.
Likewise
with the units or modes among themselves, their harmonies produce a common
affeCtion.
23.
The senses
differ in degree; the most composite is the touch; among the external senses
the most simple is the sight. [The doCtrine of Degrees is here illustrated at
some length. Tr.]
24.
Thence
they differ in the perfection of all their qualities.
25.
This
difference is entirely according to the objeCt which touch, impel, strike and
affeCt the organ.
26.
The
organic forms of each sensory are brought into agreement according to these
degrees.
27.
According
to the same degrees the fibres themselves are composed from which are made the
organic forms.
28.
According
to the same degrees the modifications run through the fibres.
29.
According
to the same degrees changes are experienced in the common sensory or cerebrum.
30.
According
to the same degrees also affections [are produced] in the cerebrum, that is,
according to changes and their harmonies or disharmonies.
31.
This,
therefore, is the cause of the diversity of the five senses.
32.
The
organic forms determine these things in each external sensory.
33.
Each sense
has its own common or general sense to which the modes or units refer
themselves as parts.*
34.
These
common [senses] differ among themselves as do the series of parts or modes.
35.
Hence
exist the parts or unities properly distinguished among themselves, and they
tend towards an evident perfection. Therefore every sensation has its superior
and inferior degrees, and indeed three, the particular, the general, and the
most general ; for every where there is order and degrees of order that
there may be a series and correspondences.
36.
Every
sense of whatever degree has its greatest and its least, and its least refers
to its greater and greatest. These degrees are to be treated of in their
especial doCtrine, to be called that of Society and Series.
37.
All ideas
arise from sensations of sight.
38.
The
hearing regarded in itself does not produce any ideas, but only refers them to
visual ideas.
39.
The modes
of hearing seem to be able to affeCi the imagination.
40.
All
harmony of posteriors with priors, or of inferiors with superiors, is not
pre-established but co-established.
41.
There is
something in the forms of the inferior modes, sensation and their ideas which
naturally affeCts those which are superior.
42.
These
things can only be understood by means of new doCtrines, namely, those of
Forms, of Order, and Degrees, of Influx, of Correspondences, of Modifications.
43.
It is
ideas which form truths, and the form itself of the truth or rather of the
truths give [the sense of] goodness; hence the affeCtions.
44.
Truths,
because they are forms, produce affeCtions, either by means of mere harmony or
on account of a love which is put for the end.
45.
Animals
better recognize the harmonies of things arising from their senses [than man],
for these things correspond harmoniously to them.
♦ Compare Aristotle, De Anima,
chap, viii., cited in Appendix III., p. 377.
B.
CONCERNING TRUTHS.
I. All
sensations are forms either harmonious or discordant.
X It
is the same with imaginative sensation.
3.
All
varieties above these or belonging to the intellect are not natural, but are acquired by learning or art.
4.
There are
nevertheless intellectual truths which produce effeCl naturally.
5.
These
truths, undoubted, are only parts from which higher truths are to be concluded.
6.
Such
therefore as is the love, and the more powerfully it reigns, such is the
affeCtion thence arising.
7.
Inferior
loves naturally combat against superior ones.
8.
Thus the
more the lower loves recede the more the higher ones can flow in.
9.
In a word,
intellectual truths result either from the lower or corporeal affeCtions or
from the spiritual or higher affeCtions. For the intellect is the center of
these.
10.
The
intellectual viewed in itself is only the supremely sensitive [organ].
C.
CONCERNING THE AFFECTIONS.
1.
There is
natural affeCtion and spiritual affeCtion.
2.
There is a
mixed affeCtion which partakes of the natural and the spiritual.
3.
Natural
affeCtion is divided into sensitive, imaginative and intellectual
; or what is the same thing, into corporeal or material which is
of the external senses, or the face; the physical which is of the
imagination or the animus; and philosophical which is of the intellect
or the mind.
4.
Sensitive
affeCtion has regard to merely the figures of objeCts, hence to their common
and particular qualities.
5.
The
imagination or physical affeCtion, like the visual, has regard to images and
ideas, which it disposes into a new order, hence the affeCtion of harmony.
6.
The
intellectual or philosophic affeCtion regards immaterial or highly elevated
ideas.
7.
All these
natural affeCtions, because harmonious, presuppose some geometric and analytic
elements and principles.
8.
The
philosophic affeCtion is the inmost sensation which is called the intellect.
9.
The lower
affeCtions flow into the higher, the higher into the lower, but with much
difference. Hence comes the common sense.
10.
This is
the faculty of thinking and of judging.
11.
The
faculty next below feels according to the state put on by the
intellectual faculty.
12.
Spiritual
affeCtion.
D.
▲ GENERAL EXPOSITION REGARDING SENSATION
AND AFFECTION.♦
1.
Sensation
produces affeCtion: affeCtion is of good or of evil. AffeCtion of good is love,
of evil, hate. The love of good involves harmony; harmony conjunction.
Therefore good and evil are the beginnings of all affeCtions.
2.
The
external senses know good and evil by affeCtions ; the imagination by
reproduction and a new production from the memory, and from this inmost memory
or that of the intellect, which by its faculty of evoking ideas and analytically
forming them explores truths and the qualities of truth, especially the inmost
or those of the intellect, whether the good be a true or false good and the
evil be truly or falsely evil. In or under the knowledge itself of truth lies
hidden the good or the evil by which the sensation is affeCted. And this is
affeCted according to the natural and the acquired order, in which is the
organism of life itself.
3.
What is
truly good and what truly evil is known especially from the love which is in
the affeCtion of the sensations. The lowest love is that of the world ; the
love next higher and the principal cause of that love is the love of the body;
still higher is the love of self and ambition ; above this is the love of
society, which increases in its degrees according to its quality, or its
natural, moral, and spiritual bonds, and according to its quantity or
universality. Still superior to this is the love of a heavenly society; and
supreme is the love of God.
4.
That loves
thus ascend follows from this induction: Our bodies are not for the sake of the
world; the internal faculties of the body whence is the love of self is not for
the sake of the body; human societies are not for our sake, heavenly society is
not for the sake of the earthly, but just the contrary. Thus neither does God
exist for the sake of a heavenly society, but this for the sake of His glory.
5.
Thus a
true and pure love and the true and highest good is God from whom as from their
source flow all love, hence all af- feClion of good, felicity, harmony,
conjunction.
♦ Compare
Aristotle, De Anima, Bk. iii. chap.viii., as quoted
in Appendix III.,p. 377
6.
Hence such
as is the love such is the understanding of truth and thence flows truth as
from its fount.
7.
Thus also
all intelligence of truth descends. As God is goodness itself so is He truth
itself. He is the true Good and the good True, which is one. Higher goodness
and truth flow into the lower, but not the reverse. In lower things there is no
goodness and no truth which is not received from a higher. We receive nothing
of good and of truth from above except as we remove the impediments and the
inferior loves. Then it flows in by Grace, and not by our merit. For we cannot
even remove the lower loves without a higher power, that is by its equilibrium
and thence its presence; then by those contingencies which promote or impede
[our loves], and thus by Providence. Therefore there is nothing except what is
of Grace.
These things you will see proved, yea, demonstrated in
our psychological writings; I dare say demonstrated, for I know I can
demonstrate them, yea, even to the faith of the unbelieving.
E.
From the “Rules of Harmony or of Music.
1.
Gravity
and acuteness of sounds proceed from four causes, (i.) The length of the fibre
or string; (ii.) its tension or relaxation ; (iii.) its thickness or
multiplication ; (iv.) its solidity and the specific gravity thence arising.
2.
All these
are present in the ear and in infinite variety.
3.
A similar
rule holds in simultaneous or consonant, as in successive or concordant
sounds.
4.
Modifications
and sounds have a concordance between their intervals according to a
coincidence of vibrations, and so an application of one sound to another.
5.
This
causes a pleasant variety, because there are oppositions which quickly and
truly coincide.
6.
All modifications
of one sense traverse in the same time or the same velocity the fibres of the
nerves, of whatever interval they be. Thus the general modifications in the
same time as the particular ones.
7.
Thus the
sensory fibres, and others connected, as the connexion is broken by the least
moment of disharmony, become dissonant in the brain.
8.
There is
also an agreement or harmony of quantities.
9.
That it
may be understood how sounds or harmonic modes or concords coincide we will
demonstrate this by drawings. [The author here refers to figures at the end of
the work, and a demonstration of the figures follows. 7>.]
CO. Hence follow these common rules:—(i.) The more consonant the sounds
are, or the more they accord, the more frequent is the coincidence [of
intervals] in the same time and space, according to the well known rule in
musical theory, etc., etc. [Many rules here follow. 7r.]
11.
The
quantities of sounds express affections.
12.
The
changes of state in the brain, and especially in the cortical substance, take
place in a similar manner.
13.
Hence it
follows that in the cortical substances of the brain similar rules come to our
notice as in the modifications of the corresponding atmospheres.
14.
And that
changes of state in the substances of the brain observe the same harmonic laws
as do the fibres of which we have treated.
15.
But
perpetual collisions and conflicts will arise, and thus
innumerable other determinations and many contrary ones,
although this common form and aClion still continues. Hence will arise
perverse states even to the inmost, although in the beginning the battle is
between the exterior and the interior modifications or changes. If the exterior
conquers, the state of the interior is perverted; if the interior, then it
celebrates its triumphs, and as it were mortifies and extinguishes the exterior
states; and so it asserts its liberty.
16.
From these
things it is apparent how the interior man fights with the exterior in the
rational mind.
********
17.
Articulate
sounds in the interior sensory are called ideas, and they are either sensual,
imaginative, or intellectual.
18.
These same
ideas are mere changes of state in the organic or cortical substances.
19.
These
changes of state are impressed in the same way as the ideas of the memory.
20.
Therefore
the memory is a field which is made up of the external and internal senses.
F.
CONCLUSION
CONCERNING THE INTELLECT AND ITS OPERATION.
The intellect with its faculties, or the rational mind,
is granted the human race in order that we may explore truths, or rationally
draw forth universals from singulars and generals from particulars, hence
causes from their effeCls or priors from posteriors, genera from their species
and species from individuals; thus also varieties from differences and hence
qualities, accedents, modes from essences, and from the nature of their
operations; then also in continued series greatest from lesser, lesser from
least, and so quantities; the simultaneous from the successive, the present
from the past, and contingents from both; these things first in analytic and
afterward in the inverted or synthetic order; after the manner of a rational
analysis and of logic, also of a geometrical or specious analysis, the former
of these carrying its reasons to conclusions, the latter to equations; then in
turn it resolves both conclusions and equations, and determines these to
consequent ends.
Thus the truths into which so many simpler truths as
essential determinations enter are brought forth like analytic forms. By means
of these our mind brings itself to the knowledge of good and of evil, both
natural and moral, and at length spiritual. And these things are provided to
the end that we may know how to choose the best; thence also to inquire after,
to judge, and seleft the mediate ends which lead to that ultimate or best, and
to its possession and fruition. And this is the work of science and of wisdom.
So far as we are affefted with the love of the truly
good, and especially of the supreme and best, so far are we united to the same,
and so far is the state of our mind and soul rendered happier and more perfect.
From these things it follows that the primary end of the
intellect given us is that we may rise by degrees from a natural into a moral,
and from a moral into a spiritual life; so at length into heavenly felicity, which shall be
the continuation of the spiritual life.
APPENDIX III.
EXTRACTS
FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL TREATISES
OF ARISTOTLE
A.
From
Book L, Chapter
I.
“ The soul is the principle
of animals.”
“ Animated things possess
motion and sensation.”
The remainder of Book I. is occupied with a discussion of the various
ANCIENT DEFINITIONS OF SOUL.
Democritus: “A certain fire and heat.”
“The spherical atoms are
fire and soul.”
“The soul imparts motion.”
Pythagoras: “The soul is composed of motes in the air.” “The soul is what moves
these.” . «
Anaxagoras : “The soul is that which moves.”
Empedocles'. “It is
composed of all the elements, and each of these is soul.”
Plato, in the Timaeus,
describes the soul as being produced by the elements.
Aristotle, in the Philosophy:—“Animal
is from the idea of the One.”
“The first length and
breadth and depth.”
“Intelleft is unity, Science is two, Opinion is a number
of surfaces.”
“ Sense is the number of a
solid.”
“ Numbers are said to be the forms of things and the
principles of beings, for they consist of elements.”
Zenocratcs: “The soul is number moving itself.”
Anaxagoras: “Soul and
Intellect are different. Intelleft is especially the principle of all being,
the only thing simple, unmingled, pure."
Diogenes : “ The soul is air.”
Heraclitus: “ A
principle, an exhalation, from which other things consist."
“ Most incorporeal and
always flowing.”
Alcmaeon: “ Immortal being always moved.”
Hippo: “The soul is water. The generative seed.”
Critias: “The soul is
blood. Sensation is present with the soul by the nature of blood."
“ All agree in defining the soul by three things,
motion, sense, and its being incorporeal."
“ Those who define it by knowledge make it an element or
from elements.” Thus they say, “The similar is known by the similar; as the
soul knows all things, it is composed of all principles.”
Chapter III.
“ If the soul moves it will
have place."
“The soul if moved is moved
by sensibles."
“The soul appears to move the body through a certain preeleftion
and intelligence."
“In consequence of the communion of the body with the
soul, the one afts, the other suffers; one is moved, the other moves."
Chapter IV.
Another opinion is that,— .
“ The soul is a certain
harmony.”
“ Harmony is a certain
mixture and composition of contraries.”
“But the soul cannot be one of
things mingled."
“ Harmony does not move,
as does the soul.”
“The soul cannot be moved according to place, except as
in subjefts which are moved.”
Chapter V.
ARE AFFECTIONS MOTIONS—JOY, FEAR, ETC. ?
“ To say that the soul is angry is just as if some one
should say that the soul weaves or builds.”
“ It is better, perhaps, not to say that the soul
communicates, or learns, or reasons dianoetically, but that man does these
through the soul; and this not as if nature were in the soul, but sometimes as
far as to, and sometimes from, the soul. Thus, for instance, sense is from
particular things, but reminiscence is from the soul to the motions or
permanencies, which are the instruments of the senses. Intelleft, however,
appears to be ingenerated, being a certain essence free from corruption.”
“To reason dianoetically, and to love and hate, are not
passions of the intelleft, but of this thing which contains intelleft, so far
as it contains it.”
“ It is evident that the
soul is not moved, not even by itself."
Chapter VI.
f
“Is ‘to know’ to be affefted by similars, and does the
soul ‘know’ things by being similar to things? How does it know the collefted
whole or God ?”
“ Divinity then is most unwise, for He knows not strife
which all men know; but mortals will know all, because each is composed of
all.”
“We know by contrariety, for by the straight we know
both the straight and the crooked, since a measuring rule is the judge of both;
but the crooked is neither a judge of itself nor of the straight.”
Chapter IX.
“The body does not conneft the [parts of the] soul; but
the soul connefts the body; hence when the soul departs the body is
dissipated.”
Book II., Chapter I.
WHAT IS THE
SOUL, AND WHAT IS ITS COMMON DEFINITION?
“The soul is an essence or the form of a natural body
possessing life
in capacity. This essence is entelecheia. It is
the entelecheia of such a body; this is predicated in a twofold respeft;
partly as science, partly as contemplation. The soul is as science. Owing to
the inherence of soul there is sleep and wakefulness; but wakefulness is
analogous to aftual contemplation, and sleep to the potency, without the
energy. In the same thing, however, science is prior in generation.”
Hence,
The soul is the first entelecheia of a natural
body possessing life in capacity [potentiality]; but such a body is that which
is organic. It is therefore
“ The first entelecheia of a natural organic body.”
“ As the eye is pupil and sight, so is the animal
soul and body.”
“The soul is not separable from the body, being the entelecheia
of some of the parts; but still some parts of the soul not enteleche-
ias of any body may be separated.”
Chapter II.
“Animals are living things which have sense.”
“ The intellect appears to be another genus of soul, and
it seems that this alone can be separated in the same manner as the perpetual
from the corruptible. But with respeft to the other parts of the soul it is
evident they are not separable, as some say.”
“Essence is predicated in a threefold aspeft: form,
matter, and the composition of the two. Matter is the potentiality, form is the
entelecheia (aftuality). That which consists of both is animated ; but
the body is not the entelecheia of the soul, but the soul of a certain
body. Hence those conceive well who are of opinion that the soul is neither
without body, nor is a certain body; for it is not body, but some thing
pertaining to body.”
“ The soul is the entelecheia, the reason of that
which has the capacity of being such a particular thing ” (or the reason why a thing has the potency of being a particular
thing instead of something else. Ed).
Chapter III.
THE POWERS OF THE SOUL.
These are:—
Nutritive, sensitive, oreftic, locomotive (according to
place) and dianoetic.
Plants have nutritive
power; some nutritive and sensitive. If sensitive also oreftic; for orexis or
appetite is desire, anger, and will.
Animals: all have sense
of touch and thus are sensitive.
Touch is the sense of aliments [taste]. Touch is the
sense of dry and moist, of hot and cold.
Hunger is the desire of hot and dry; thirst of the moist
and cold.
Animals have also the locomotive powers.
Man : “ Men are possessed
of the dianoetic power and intelleft. No sense is present without touch, but
touch may be without other senses.”
“ Sensitive animals possess in the slightest manner
reasoning and the dianoetic power.”
Chapter IV.
NUTRITIVE AND GENERATIVE POWERS OF THE SOUL.
“Since corruptible things cannot remain one and the same
in number, and hence are not capable of eternity, in unceasing continuity,
therefore that the animal and plant may participate in eternity and divinity
they naturally aspire each to make another being such as itself: so it remains
not itself but such as itself; not one in number, but in species.”
“ In nourishing there are
three things, viz.:—
That which is nourished ;
That which nourishes;
That by which it nourishes.
The first is the body;
The second is the soul;
The third is the nutriment.”
“ But since it is just to denominate all things by the
end, and the end is to generate an offspring resembling that which generates,
the first soul will be generative of that which resembles itself.”
“Nothing generates itself,
but preserves itself.”
Chapter V.
WHAT IS SENSE IN GENERAL?
“ Sense happens in consequence of something being moved
and suffering, for it appears to be a certain change in quality.”
“ Sensitive power is not in actuality but in
potentiality; it does not perceive itself.”
“ Sense in energy is sense of particulars; science
pertains to universals, and these are, in a certain respeft, in the soul.
Hence we may energize intellectually whenever we please; but it is not in our
powers so to perceive sensibly; for this, a sensible objeCt must be present.”
“ The sensitive power
suffers, not being similar; but having suffered it becomes similar, and is
such as the sensible objedl.”
Chapter VI.
EACH SENSE
DISCUSSED.
“ I. Sensibles are
predicated as threefold :
Two are perceived
essentially, One accidentally.
One is peculiar to each
sense.
One is common to all senses.
Colour is the peculiar
objeCl of sight.
Sound is the peculiar objeft
of hearing.
Sapor is the peculiar objeCt
of taste.
Each sense forms a judgment of these sensibles. These
are the peculiar sensibles.
But the common sensibles
are:—motion, rest, number, figure, magnitude.
“ Sense suffers nothing as such from the sensibles, but
from the peculiarities of sensibles; but of the things essentially sensible the
peculiarities are properly sensibles, and are the things to which the essence
of every sense is naturally referred.”
Chapter VII.
THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
“ Light is neither fire, nor, in short, a body, nor the
effluxion of any body; but it is the presence of fire or something of this kind
in that which is diaphanous ; for it is impossible that two bodies can be at
one and the same time in the same place.”
“Colour moves that which is diaphanous, e.g., the
air; and by this which is continued, the instrument of sensation or the sensorium
is moved. It is impossible that it should be passively affefled by the colour
which is seen; it must be therefore by that which is intermediate; hence there
must be an intermediate; and if there were a vacuum we should not only not see
accurately, but nothing would be seen. The same is true of sound and colour;
for neither of these by touching the sensorium produces sensation ; but by
odour and sound, that which is intermediate is moved, and from this each
sensorium. Where one places immediately on the sensorium that which sounds or
smells he will produce no sensation.”
“The intermediate in respect to sound is air: with odour
it is anonymous; for there is a certain common passive quality in air and
water. As the diaphanous is to colour, so is that intermediate nature in air
and water to odour; for aquatic animals also appear to have a sense of odour,
but man and such terrestrial animals as respire are incapable of smelling
without respiration.”
Chapter VIII.
SOUND AND HEARING.
“ Not every sound of an animal is a voice [word], for it
is possible to produce sound with the tongue as in coughing; but it is necessary
that the thing which strikes should be animated, and accompanied with a
certain phantasy; since voice [word] is a certain sound significant, and is not
the sound of respired air, like a cough.”
Chapter IX.
SMELL.
“ Inferior in man to its quality in the animal. Odours
not being very manifest we borrow appellations from taste, as sweet, acrid,
etc.
Man smells only in respiring; in expiring or holding
breath he does not smell, even if the objeCt of smell be placed in the
nostrils. It is peculiar to man that the object of sensation is not perceived
without respiration.*
The organ of smell has a covering as well as the eye; in
those receiving the air it has a covering which when they respire is uncovered,
the veins and pores being dilated.”
Chapter X.
TASTE.
“ That which is gustable is tangible, it is not sensible
through an intermediate body. Nothing but moisture produces the sense of sapor,
and sapor is the gustable.”
Chapter XI.
THE TOUCH : AND THE TANGIBLE.
“ Sense placed in the sensorium does not perceive, but
perceives when
placed in the flesh: hence flesh is the medium of the
touch.”
Chapter XII.
THE SENSES GENERALLY.
“Sense is that which is receptive of sensible forms
without matter. Example: the wax receiving impression of the seal without the
seal itself.”
That which perceives will be a certain magnitude; but
neither the essence of the sensitive power nor sense is magnitude but it is a
certain reason and power of it.
Book III., Chapter III.
THE FIVE SENSES.
“ To perceive sensibly is not the same with intellectual
perception; for the perception of sense is always true of its objeCt, and is
present with all animals, but it is possible to perceive falsely by the dianoetic
energy, and this power is present with only the animals having reason. The
phantasy is different from both sense and the dianoetic power; the phantasy
does not exist without sense, and hypo- lepsis (opinion) is not without
phantasy; but phantasy and opinion (hypolepsis) are not the same:
phantasy is in our power; we can imagine objeCts and form images; it is not in
our power to opine when we please, since it is necessary to opine falsely or
truly. In opining something atrocious we are co-passive (sympathetic); in
phantasy we are affeCted only as on looking at a dreadful picture.”
Compare no. 47. [ Tr.
Hypolepsis embraces:
science, opinion, prudence, and their con
traries.*
Chapter IV.
PHANTASY AND HYPOLEPSIS.
“ Intellectual perception, differing from sensible
perception, embraces both phantasy and hypolepsis."
Phantasy is not sense:
[it sees its vision as in sleep, without sense]. Sense is always present, but
not phantasy. Animals have sense but not phantasy. Senses are always true ;
phantasies are mostly false. Opinion, neither with sense nor through sense, nor
the conjunction of opinion and sense, will be phantasy.
Opinion is not of a certain other thing, but of that of
which sense is the perception.
The connection, from opinion and sense, of that which is
white (for example), is the phantasy.
Chapter V.
INTELLECTUAL PERCEPTION, HOW IT IS PRODUCED.
“ Intellect of soul is only intellect in potentiality,
its only nature is that it is possible.”
“ Intellect of soul (I mean the intellect by which the
soul energizes dianoetically and hypoleptically) is nothing in energy of
beings, before it intellectually perceives them. It is not reasonable that it
should be mingled with body, for thus it would become a thing with a certain
quality, would be hot or cold, would have an organ in the manner of a sensitive
power. Now there is no organ of it. They speak properly who say the soul is the
place of forms; that is not true of the whole soul, but of that which is
intellective; nor is its form in entelecheia, but in capacity.”
“ The impassiveness of the sensitive and of the
intelleClive power is not similar, for sense cannot perceive from a •vehement
sensible ob- jeCt; but intellect, when it understands any thing very
intelligible, does not the less understand inferior concerns, but even
understands them in a greater degree, for the sensitive power is not without
body, but intellect is separate [from body].”
“ By the sensitive power it distinguishes the hot and
the cold and those things of which flesh is a certain reason ; but by another
power either separate or on an infleCled line subsisting with reference to
itself as extended, it distinguishes the essence of flesh. The very nature of
the thing (if the essence of the straight is different from the straight thing) it distinguishes by another power; it judges therefore
by another power, or by a power subsisting in a different man-
♦ Compare Swedenborg’s description of
the Mixed Intellect, nos. 32, 136. [ Tr. ner. In short, as are the
things which are separate from matter, so also are the things pertaining to the
intellect.
Some one may doubt:
“ If intellect is simple and impassive and has nothing
in common with anything, as Anaxagoras says, how it can perceive
intellectually, if to perceive intellectually is to suffer something; for so
far as something is common to both, the one appears to aCt, but the other to
suffer. Again, it may be doubted whether intellect is itself intelligible. For
either intellect will be present with other things (if it is not intelligible
according to another thing, but is one certain thing in species by itself); or
it will have something mingled which will make it to be intelligible in the
same manner as other things. Or shall we say that [the ability] to suffer
subsists according to something common ? On which account it was before
observed that intellect is in potency, in a certain respeCl all intelligibles,
but is no one of these in entelecheia [actually] before it understands
or perceives intellectually.”
“ But it is necessary to conceive of it as of a table in
which nothing is written in entelecheia [actuality]; which happens to
be the case in intellect. It likewise is intelligible in the same manner as intelligibles.
For in things which are without matter, intelleft and that which the
intelleft understands are the same. For theoretic science and the object of
scientific knowledge are the same. The cause, however, why it does not always
perceive intellectually, must be considered. But in those things which have
matter, each of the intelligibles resides only potentially. Hence intellect
will not be present with them, for the intellect of such things is
potentiality without matter. But with intellect the intelligible will be present.”
Chapter VI.
Since all things must have the matter capable of
becoming all things of its genus, and also the cause and effective, producing all
such things [as are in relation to matter] these differences must also exist in
the soul. The one is the intellect which becomes all things, but
the other the intellect which produces all things.
For example: light causes colours in potency to become
colours in actuality. This intellect is separate, unmingled, and impassive,
since it is in its essence energy ; for the efficient is more honourable than
the patient; and the principle than matter. Science in energy (actuality) is
the same as the thing [scientifically known], but science
in potency is prior in time, in the one [to science in energy]; though, in
short, neither [is potency prior to energy] in time. It does not, however,
perceive intellectually at one time and at another time not, but separate
intellect is alone this very thing which it is,* and this alone is
immortal and eternal. We do not, however, remember, because this [intellect]
is impassive; but the passive intellect is corruptible, and, without this
separate intellect, understands nothing.
Chapter VII.
“ The intellect knows evil or blackness in a certain
respect, ‘ by the contrary.’ ”
Chapter VIII.
“ When intellect affirms or
denies evil or good, it avoids or pursues : hence the soul never perceives
intellectually without a phantasm Sometimes
the intellective power, looking as it were
on the phantasms or conceptions which are in the soul,
reasons and consults about future events looking to such things as are present;
and when it has asserted, in the phantasm, that a thing is pleasant or painful,
so .here it avoids or pursues, and in short, is in action. The true and the
false also which are without action are in the same genus with good and evil.”
“ If the intellect should understand anything in energy
so far as it has a cavity, [for instance,] it will understand it without the
flesh in which the cavity subsists. Thus it understands mathematical forms
which are not separate [from things formed] as separate, when it understands
them. In short, intellect which understands in energy is the things themselves
[which it understands].”
“ Though the external senses are many, yet the ultimate
sense in which all the sensible energies are terminated is one, but is manifold
in its essence. By this ultimate and common sense, the soul distinguishes the
differences of the sensible objects pertaining to the different senses.”
“ As, therefore, there is one sense which forms a
judgment of all sensible objects, so there is one practical intellect which
forms a judgment of all phantasms or objefts of imagination.”
“ As therefore the common sense contemplates and judges of
the sensibles which are known by the particular senses, so the practical
intellect contemplates the forms of things represented by phantasms and known
by the energies of imagination ; and as the common sense when distinguishing
sensible objects is excited to avoid or pursue, so the practical intellect
considering the objects of imagination, even when sensibles are not present,
and discursively concluding that this is to be avoided and that is to be
pursued, is moved to avoidance or pursuit.”
Chapter IX.
“ A stone is not in the soul, but the form of the stone.
The soul is, as it were, a hand; the hand is the organ of organs; intellect
is the form of forms; and sense is the form of sensibles.”
“When the intellect contemplates it must contemplate a
certain phantasm; for phantasms are as sensible objects except that they are
without matter. The phantasy differs from affirmative or negative, for the true
or the false is the connection of mental conceptions.”
Chapter XI.
THE GENESIS OF MOTION.
“ There are three things : first, that which moves [sets
in motion]; second, that by which it moves; third that which is moved.
*' What moves [Z. <?., sets in motion] is two-fold
:—the one [part] immovable ; the other moving and moved.
“ The immovable, indeed, is practical good. What
moves and is moved is appetitive power (since what desires is moved so
far as it desires, and appetite is a certain motion so far as it is an energy).
“That which is moved is the animal; and the organ by
which appetite moves, this is now corporeal.”
Chapter XII.
“ Animals have the sense of touch for the sake of
existence ; but all other senses for the sake of existing well.”
“ Without touch there can be no animal.”
“The touch perceives by touching objects themselves; all
the other senses perceive by touching, but through other things as mediums.”
B.
ON THE GENERATION OF ANIMALS.
“In the seed of all animals that is inherent which
causes the seed to be prolific, viz.; that which is called heat. This, however,
is not fire nor a power of such a kind as fire, but a spirit which is comprehended
in the seed and in the foamy substance of it; and the nature which is in the
spirit is analogous to the element of the stars. Hence fire germinates no
animals,... .but the heat of the sun and the heat of animals at the same
time possess this vital heat.”—{De Generatione Animalium, II.)