{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25830/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25830","id":"gutenberg_25830","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25830","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Methodology","Science -- Methodology"],"text":"Produced by Jonathan Ingram, LN Yaddanapudi and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  A Discourse\n  _OF A_\n  METHOD\n  For the well guiding of\n  REASON,\n  And the Discovery of _Truth_\n  In the\n  SCIENCES.\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  LONDON,\n  Printed by _Thomas Newcombe_.\n  MDCXLIX.\n\n\n\n\nTo the _Understanding READER_.\n\nThe Great DESCARTES (who may justly challenge the first place amongst\nthe Philosophers of this Age) is the Author of this Discourse; which in\nthe Originall was so well known, That it could be no mans but his own,\nthat his Name was not affix'd to it: I need say no more either of Him\nor It; He is best made known by Himself, and his Writings want nothing\nbut thy reading to commend them. But as those who cannot compasse the\nOriginals of _Titian_ and _Van-Dyke_, are glad to adorne their Cabinets\nwith the Copies of them; So be pleased favourably to receive his Picture\nfrom my hand, copied after his own Designe: You may therein observe the\nlines of a well form'd Minde, The hightnings of Truth, The sweetnings\nand shadowings of Probabilities, The falls and depths of Falshood; all\nwhich serve to perfect this Masterpiece. Now although my after-draught\nbe rude and unpolished, and that perhaps I have touch'd it too boldly,\nThe thoughts of so clear a Minde, being so extremely fine, That as the\nchoisest words are too grosse, and fall short fully to expresse such\nsublime Notions; So it cannot be, but being transvested, it must\nnecessarily lose very much of its native Lustre: Nay, although I am\nconscious (notwithstanding the care I have taken neither to wrong the\nAuthours Sense, nor offend the Readers Ear) of many escapes which I have\nmade; yet I so little doubt of being excused, That I am confident, my\nendeavour cannot but be gratefull to all Lovers of Learning; for whose\nbenefit I have Englished, and to whom I addresse this Essay, which\ncontains a Method, by the Rules whereof we may Shape our better part,\nRectifie our Reason, Form our Manners and Square our Actions, Adorn our\nMindes, and making a diligent Enquiry into Nature, wee may attain to the\nKnowledge of the Truth, which is the most desirable union in the World.\n\nOur Authour also invites all letterd men to his assistance in the\nprosecution of this Search; That for the good of Mankinde, They would\npractise and communicate Experiments, for the use of all those who\nlabour for the perfection of Arts and Sciences: Every man now being\nobliged to the furtherance of so beneficiall an Undertaking, I could not\nbut lend my hand to open the Curtain, and discover this New Model of\nPhilosophy; which I now publish, neither to humour the present, nor\ndisgust former times; but rather that it may serve for an innocent\nDivertisement to those, who would rather Reform themselves, then the\nrest of the world; and who, having the same seeds and grounds, and\nknowing That there is nothing New under the Sun; That Novelty is but\nOblivion, and that Knowledge is but Remembrance, will study to finde\nout in themselves, and restore to Posterity those lost Arts, which\nrender Antiquity so venerable; and strive (if it be possible) to go\nbeyond them in other things, as well as Time: Who minde not those things\nwhich are above, beyond, or without them; but would rather limit their\ndesires by their power, then change the Course of Nature; Who seek the\nknowledge, and labour for the Conquest of themselves; Who have Vertue\nenough to make their own Fortune; And who prefer the Culture of the\nMinde before the Adorning of the Body; To such as these I present this\nDiscourse (whose pardon I beg, for having so long detain'd them from so\ndesirable a Conversation;) and conclude with this Advice of the Divine\n_Plato_:\n\n    _Cogita in te, praeter Animum, nihil esse mirabile._\n\n\n\n\n\nA DISCOURSE OF A METHOD, For the wel-guiding of Reason; AND The\ndiscovery of Truth in the SCIENCES.\n\n\n_If this Discourse seem too long to be read at once, it may be divided\ninto six parts. In the first, are divers Considerations touching the\nSciences. In the second, the principall Rules of that Method which the\nAuthor hath studyed. In the third, some of those in morality, which he\nhath drawn from this Method. In the fourth, the reasons whereby the\nexistence of God and of the humane Soul is proved; which are the\ngrounds of his Metaphysicks. In the fift, the order of these Physicall\nquestions, which he hath examined, and particularly the explication of\nthe hearts motion; with some other difficulties relating to Physick; as\nalso the difference between our Souls and those of beasts. In the last,\nwhat he conceives requisit to make a further inquiry into Nature, then\nhath hitherto been made. And what reasons induc'd him to write._\n\n\n\n\nPART. I.\n\n\nRight understanding is the most equally divided thing in the World; for\nevery one beleevs himself so well stor'd with it, that even those who in\nall other things are the hardest to be pleas'd, seldom desire more of it\nthen they have; wherein it is not likely that all Men are deceived: But\nit rather witnesseth, That the faculty of right-judging and\ndistinguishing truth from falshood (which is properly call'd,\nUnderstanding or Reason) is naturally equal in all Men. And as the\ndiversity of our Opinions, is not, because some are more reasonable then\nothers; but only that we direct our thoughts several ways, neither do we\nconsider the same things. For 'tis not enough to have good faculties,\nbut the principal is, to apply them well. The greatest Souls are as\ncapable of the greatest Vices, as of the most eminent Vertues: And those\nwho move but very slowly, may advance much farther, if they always\nfollow the right way; then those who run and straggle from it.\n\nFor my part, I never presum'd that my Minde was more perfect in any\nthing then an ordinary Mans; nay, I have often wish'd to have had my\nthoughts as quick, my imagination as clear and distinct, and my memory\nas large and as ready as some other Men have had. And I know no\nQualities which serve more then those to the perfection of the Minde;\nfor as for Reason or Understanding, forasmuch as it is the only thing\nwhich makes us Men, and distinguisheth us from beasts, I will beleeve it\nto be entire in every One, and follow herein the common opinion of the\nPhilosophers, who say, That there is only more or less among the\nAccidents, and not amongst the Forms or nature of the Individuals of one\nspecies.\n\nBut I shall not stick to say, That I beleeve my self very happy, in\nhaving encountred from my youth with certain ways which have led me to\nconsiderations and Maximes, from which I have found a Method; whereby\nmethinks, I have the means by degrees to augment my knowledg, and by\nlittle and little to raise it up to the highest pitch, whereto the\nmeaness of my capacity, & the short course of my life can permit it to\nattain. For I have already reaped such fruits from it, that although in\nthe judgment I make of my self, I endevour always rather to incline to\nmistrust, then to presumption. And looking on the divers actions and\nundertakings of all Men, with the eye of a Philosopher, there is almost\nnone which to me seems not vain and useless. Yet I am extremely\nsatisfied with the Progress, which (as it seems to me) I have already\nmade in the search of Truth, and do conceive such hopes for the future,\nThat if among the employments of Men, purely Men, there is any solidly\ngood, and of importance, I dare beleeve it is that which I have chosen:\nYet it may be that I deceive my self, and perhaps it is but a little\nCopper and Glass which I take for Gold and Diamonds. I know how subject\nwe are to mistake in those things which concern us, and how jealous we\nought to be of the judgment of our friends, when it is in our favor. But\nI should willingly in this Discourse, trace out unto you the ways which\nI have followed, and represent therein my life, as in a Picture, to the\nend, that every one may judge thereof; and that learning from common\nFame, what mens opinions are of it, I may finde a new means of\ninstructing my self; which I shall add to those which I customarily make\nuse of.\n\nNeither is it my design to teach a Method which every Man ought to\nfollow, for the good conduct of his reason; but only to shew after what\nmanner I have endevoured to order mine own. Those who undertake to give\nprecepts, ought to esteem themselves more able, then those to whom they\ngive them, and are blame-worthy, if they fail in the least. But\nproposing this but as a History, or if you will have it so, but as a\nFable; wherein amongst other examples, which may be imitated, we may\nperhaps find divers others which we may have reason to decline: I hope\nit will be profitable to some, without being hurtfull to any; and that\nthe liberty I take will be gratefull to all.\n\nI have been bred up to Letters from mine infancy; & because I was\nperswaded, that by their means a man might acquire a clear and certain\nknowledg of all that's usefull for this life, I was extremely desirous\nto learn them: But as soon as I had finish'd all the course of my\nStudies, at the end whereof Men are usually receiv'd amongst the rank of\nthe learned. I wholly changed my opinion, for I found my self intangled\nin so many doubts and errors, that me thought I had made no other profit\nin seeking to instruct my self, but that I had the more discovered mine\nown ignorance. Yet I was in one of the most famous Schools in _Europe_;\nwhere I thought, if there were any on earth, there ought to have been\nlearned Men. I had learnt all what others had learnt; even unsatisfied\nwith the Sciences which were taught us, I had read over all Books\n(which I could possibly procure) treating of such as are held to be the\nrarest and the most curious. Withall, I knew the judgment others made of\nme; and I perceiv'd that I was no less esteem'd then my fellow Students,\nalthough there were some amongst them that were destin'd to fill our\nMasters rooms. And in fine, our age seem'd to me as flourishing and as\nfertile of good Wits, as any of the preceding, which made me take the\nliberty to judg of all other men by my self, and to think, That there\nwas no such learning in the world, as formerly I had been made beleeve.\n\nYet did I continue the esteem I had of those exercises which are the\nemployments of the Schools: I knew that Languages which are there\nlearnt, are necessary for the understanding of ancient Writers, That the\nquaintness of Fables awakens the Minde; That the memorable actions in\nHistory raise it up, and that being read with discretion, they help to\nform the judgment. That the reading of good books, is like the\nconversation with the honestest persons of the past age, who were the\nAuthors of them, and even a studyed conversation, wherein they discover\nto us the best only of their thoughts. That eloquence hath forces &\nbeauties which are incomparable. That Poetry hath delicacies and sweets\nextremly ravishing; That the Mathematicks hath most subtile inventions,\nwhich very much conduce aswel to content the curious, as to facilitate\nall arts, and to lessen the labour of Men: That those writings which\ntreat of manners contain divers instructions, and exhortations to\nvertue, which are very usefull. That Theology teacheth the way to\nheaven; That Philosophy affords us the means to speake of all things\nwith probability, and makes her self admir'd, by the least knowing Men.\nThat Law, Physick and other sciences bring honor and riches to those who\npractice them; Finally that its good to have examin'd them all even the\nfalsest and the most superstitious, that we may discover their just\nvalue, and preserve our selves from their cheats.\n\nBut I thought I had spent time enough in the languages, and even also in\nthe lecture of ancient books, their histories and their fables. For 'tis\neven the same thing to converse with those of former ages, as to travel.\nIts good to know something of the manners of severall Nations, that we\nmay not think that all things against our _Mode_ are ridiculous or\nunreasonable, as those are wont to do, who have seen Nothing. But when\nwe employ too long time in travell, we at last become strangers to our\nown Country, and when we are too curious of those things, which we\npractised in former times, we commonly remain ignorant of those which\nare now in use. Besides, Fables make us imagine divers events possible,\nwhich are not so: And that even the most faithfull Histories, if they\nneither change or augment the value of things, to render them the more\nworthy to be read, at least, they always omit the basest and less\nremarkable circumstances; whence it is, that the rest seems not as it\nis; and that those who form their Manners by the examples they thence\nderive, are subject to fall into the extravagancies of the _Paladins_ of\nour Romances, and to conceive designes beyond their abilities.\n\nI highly priz'd Eloquence, and was in love with Poetry; but I esteem'd\nboth the one and the other, rather gifts of the Minde, then the fruits\nof study. Those who have the strongest reasoning faculties, and who best\ndigest their thoughts, to render them the more clear and intelligible,\nmay always the better perswade what they propose, although they should\nspeak but a corrupt dialect, and had never learnt Rhetorick: And those\nwhose inventions are most pleasing, and can express them with most\nornament and sweetness, will still be the best Poets; although ignorant\nof the Art of Poetry.\n\nBeyond all, I was most pleas'd with the Mathematicks, for the certainty\nand evidence of the reasons thereof; but I did not yet observe their\ntrue use, and thinking that it served only for Mechanick Arts; I\nwondred, that since the grounds thereof were so firm and solid, that\nnothing more sublime had been built thereon. As on the contrary, I\ncompar'd the writings of the Ancient heathen which treated of Manner, to\nmost proud and stately Palaces which were built only on sand and mire,\nthey raise the vertues very high, and make them appear estimable above\nall the things in the world; but they doe not sufficiently instruct us\nin the knowledg of them, and often what they call by that fair Name, is\nbut a stupidness, or an act of pride, or of despair, or a paricide.\n\nI reverenc'd our Theology, and pretended to heaven as much as any; But\nhaving learnt as a most certain Truth, that the way to it, is no less\nopen to the most ignorant, then to the most learned; and that those\nrevealed truths which led thither, were beyond our understanding, I\ndurst not submit to the weakness of my ratiocination. And I thought,\nthat to undertake to examine them, and to succeed in it, requir'd some\nextraordinary assistance from heaven, and somewhat more then Man. I\nshall say nothing of Philosophy, but that seeing it hath been cultivated\nby the most excellent wits, which have liv'd these many ages, and that\nyet there is nothing which is undisputed, and by consequence, which is\nnot doubtfull. I could not presume so far, as to hope to succeed better\nthen others. And considering how many different opinions there may be on\nthe same thing, maintain'd by learned Men, and yet that there never can\nbe but one only Truth, I reputed almost all false, which had no more\nthen probability in it.\n\nAs for other Sciences, since they borrow their Principles from\nPhilosophy, I judg'd that nothing which was solid could be built upon\nsuch unsound foundations; and neither honour nor wealth were sufficient\nto invite me to the study of them. For (I thank God) I found not my self\nin a condition which obliged me to make a Trade of Letters for the\nrelief of my fortune. And although I made it not my profession to\ndespise glory with the Cynick; yet did I little value that which I could\nnot acquire but by false pretences. And lastly, for unwarrantable\nStudies, I thought I already too well understood what they were, to be\nany more subject to be deceived, either by the promises of an Alchymist,\nor by the predictions of an Astrologer, or by the impostures of a\nMagician, or by the artifice or brags of those who profess to know more\nthen they do.\n\nBy reason whereof, as soon as my years freed me from the subjection of\nmy Tutors, I wholly gave over the study of Letters, and resolving to\nseek no other knowledge but what I could finde in my self, or in the\ngreat book of the World, I imployed the rest of my youth in Travell, to\nsee Courts and Armies, to frequent people of severall humors and\nconditions, to gain experience, to hazard my self in those encounters of\nfortune which should occurr; and every-where to make such a reflection\non those things which presented themselves to me, that I might draw\nprofit from them. For (me thought) I could meet with far more truth in\nthe discourses which every man makes touching those affairs which\nconcern him, whose event would quickly condemn him, if he had judg'd\namisse; then amongst those which letter'd Men make in their closets\ntouching speculations, which produce no effect, and are of no\nconsequence to them, but that perhaps they may gain so much the more\nvanity, as they are farther different from the common understanding:\nForasmuch as he must have imployed the more wit and subtilty in\nendeavouring to render them probable. And I had always an extreme desire\nto learn to distinguish Truth from Falshood, that I might see cleerly\ninto my actions, and passe this life with assurance.\n\nIts true, that whiles I did but consider the Manners of other men, I\nfound little or nothing wherein I might confirm my self: And I observ'd\nin them even as much diversity as I had found before in the opinions of\nthe Philosophers: So that the greatest profit I could reap from them\nwas, that seeing divers things, which although they seem to us very\nextravagant and ridiculous, are nevertheless commonly received and\napproved by other great Nations, I learn'd to beleeve nothing too\nfirmly, of what had been onely perswaded me by example or by custom, and\nso by little and little I freed my self from many errors, which might\neclipse our naturall light, and render us lesse able to comprehend\nreason. But after I had imployed some years in thus studying the Book of\nthe World, and endeavouring to get experience, I took one day a\nresolution to study also within my self, and to employ all the forces of\nmy minde in the choice of the way I was to follow: which (me thought)\nsucceeded much better, then if I had never estranged my self from my\nCountry, or from my Books.\n\n\n\n\nPART. II.\n\n\nI was then in _Germany_, whither the occasion of the Wars (which are not\nyet finished) call'd me; and as I return'd from the Emperors Coronation\ntowards the Army, the beginning of Winter stopt me in a place, where\nfinding no conversation to divert me and on the other sides having by\ngood fortune no cares nor passions which troubled me, I stayd alone the\nwhole day, shut up in my Stove, where I had leasure enough to entertain\nmy self with my thoughts. Among which one of the first was that I betook\nmy self to consider, That oft times there is not so much perfection in\nworks compos'd of divers peeces, and made by the hands of severall\nmasters, as in those that were wrought by one only: So we may observe\nthat those buildings which were undertaken and finished by one onely,\nare commonly fairer and better ordered then those which divers have\nlaboured to patch up, making use of old wals, which were built for other\npurposes; So those ancient Cities which of boroughs, became in a\nsuccession of time great Towns, are commonly so ill girt in comparison\nof other regular Places, which were design'd on a flatt according to the\nfancy of an Engeneer; and although considering their buildings\nseverally, we often find as much or more art, then in those of other\nplaces; Yet to see how they are rank'd here a great one, there a little\none, and how they make the streets crooked and uneven, One would say,\nThat it was rather Fortune, then the will of Men indued with reason,\nthat had so disposed them. And if we consider, that there hath always\nbeen certain Officers, whose charge it was, to take care of private\nbuildings, to make them serve for the publique ornament; We may well\nperceive, that it's very difficult, working on the works of others, to\nmake things compleat. So also did I imagine, that those people who\nformerly had been half wilde, and civiliz'd but by degrees, made their\nlaws but according to the incommodities which their crimes and their\nquarrels constrain'd them to, could not be so wel pollic'd, as those who\nfrom the beginning of their association, observ'd the constitutions of\nsome prudent Legislator. As it is very certain, that the state of the\ntrue Religion, whose Ordinances God alone hath made, must be\nincomparably better regulated then all others. And to speak of humane\nthings, I beleeve that if _Sparta_ hath formerly been most flourishing,\nit was not by reason of the goodness of every of their laws in\nparticular, many of them being very strange, and even contrary to good\nmanners, but because they were invented by one only, They all tended to\nOne End. And so I thought the sciences in Books, at least those whose\nreasons are but probable, and which have no demonstrations, having been\ncompos'd of, and by little and little enlarg'd with, the opinions of\ndivers persons, come not so near the Truth, as those simple reasonings\nwhich an understanding Man can naturally make, touching those things\nwhich occurr. And I thought besides also, That since we have all been\nchildren, before we were Men; and that we must have been a long time\ngovern'd by our appetites, and by our Tutors, who were often contrary to\none another, and neither of which alwayes counsel'd us for the best;\nIt's almost impossible that our judgment could be so clear or so solid,\nas it might have been, had we had the intire use of our reason from the\ntime of our birth, and been always guided by it alone.\n\nIts true, we doe not see the houses of a whole Town pull'd down\npurposely to re build them of another fashion; and to make the streets\nthe fairer; But we often see, that divers pull their own down to set\nthem up again, and that even sometimes they are forc'd thereunto, when\nthey are in danger to fall of themselves, and that their foundations are\nnot sure. By which example I perswaded my self, that there was no sense\nfor a particular person, to design the Reformation of a State, changing\nall from the very foundations, and subverting all to redress it again:\nNor even also to reform the bodies of Sciences, or the Orders already\nestablished in the Schools for teaching them. But as for all the\nOpinions which I had till then receiv'd into my beleef, I could not doe\nbetter then to undertake to expunge them once for all, that afterwards I\nmight place in their stead, either others which were better, or the same\nagain, as soon as I should have adjusted them to the rule of reason. And\nI did confidently beleeve, that by that means I should succeed much\nbetter in the conduct of my life, then if I built but on old\nfoundations, and only relyed on those principles, which I suffer'd my\nself to be perswaded to in my youth, without ever examining the Truth of\nthem. For although I observ'd herein divers difficulties, yet were they\nnot without cure, nor comparable to those which occurr in the\nreformation of the least things belonging to the publick: these great\nbodies are too unweldy to be rais'd; being cast down, or to be held up\nwhen they are shaken, neither can their falls be but the heavyest.\n\nAs for their imperfections, if they have any, as the only diversity\nwhich is amongst them, is sufficient to assure us that many have.\nCustome hath (without doubt) much sweetned them, and even it hath made\nothers wave, or insensibly correct a many, whereto we could not so well\nby prudence have given a remedy. And in fine, They are alwayes more\nsupportable, then their change can be, Even, as the great Roads, which\nwinding by little and little betwixt mountains, become so plain and\ncommodious, with being often frequented, that it's much better to follow\nthem, then to undertake to goe in a strait line by climbing over the\nrocks, and descending to the bottom of precipices. Wherefore I can by no\nmeans approve of those turbulent and unquiet humors, who being neither\ncall'd by birth or fortune to the managing of publique affairs, yet are\nalwayes forming in _Idea_, some new Reformation. And did I think there\nwere the least thing in this Discourse, which might render me suspected\nof that folly, I should be extremely sorry to suffer it to be published;\nI never had any designe which intended farther then to reform my own\nthoughts and to build on a foundation which was wholly mine. But though\nI present you here with a Modell of my work, because it hath\nsufficiently pleased me; I would not therefore counsell any one to\nimitate it. Those whom God hath better endued with his graces, may\nperhaps have more elevated designes; but I fear me, lest already this be\ntoo bold for some. The resolution only of quitting all those opinions\nwhich we have formerly receiv'd into our belief, is not an example to be\nfollowed by every One; and the world is almost compos'd but of two sorts\nof Men, to whom it's no wayes convenient, to wit, of those, who\nbeleeving themselves more able then they are, cannot with-hold\nthemselves from precipitating their judgments, nor have patience enough\nto steer all their thoughts in an orderly course. Whence it happens,\nthat if they should once take the liberty to doubt of those principles\nwhich they have already received, and to stray from the common road,\nthey could never keep the path which leads strait forwards, and so,\nwould straggle all their lives. And of such who having reason and\nmodesty enough to judg that they are less able to distinguish truth from\nfalshood then others, from whom they may receive instruction, ought much\nrather to be content to follow other Mens opinions, rather then to seek\nafter better themselves.\n\nAnd for my part, I had undoubtedly been of the number of those latter,\nhad I never had but one Master, or had I not known the disputes which\nhave alwayes hapned amongst the most learned. For having learnt from\nthe very School, That one can imagin nothing so strange or incredible,\nwhich had not been said by some one of the Philosophers; And having\nsince observ'd in my travails, That all those whose opinions are\ncontrary to ours, are not therefore barbarous or savage, but that many\nuse as much or more reason then we; and having consider'd how much one\nMan with his own understanding, bred up from his childhood among the\nFrench or the Dutch, becomes different from what he would be, had he\nalwayes liv'd amongst the _Chineses_, or the _Cannibals_: And how even\nin the fashion of our Clothes, the same thing which pleas'd ten years\nsince, and which perhaps wil please ten years hence, seems now to us\nridiculous and extravagant. So that it's much more Custome and Example\nwhich perswades us, then any assured knowledg; and notwithstanding that\nplurality of voices is a proof of no validity, in those truths which\nare hard to be discovered; for that it's much more likely for one man\nalone to have met with them, then a whole Nation; I could choose no Man\nwhose opinion was to be preferr'd before anothers: And I found my self\neven constrain'd to undertake the conduct of my self.\n\nBut as a man that walks alone, and in the dark, I resolv'd to goe so\nsoftly, and use so much circumspection in all things, that though I\nadvanc'd little, I would yet save my self from falling. Neither would I\nbegin quite to reject, some opinions, which formerly had crept into my\nbelief, without the consent of my reason, before I had employed time\nenough to form the project of the work I undertook, and to seek the true\nMethod to bring me to the knowledg of all those things, of which my\nunderstanding was capable.\n\nI had a little studyed, being young, of the parts of Philosophy, Logick,\nand of the Mathematicks, the Analysis of the Geometricians, and\n_Algebra_: Three arts or sciences which seem'd to contribute somewhat\nconducing to my designe: But examining them, I observ'd, That as for\nLogick, its Sylogisms, and the greatest part of its other Rules, serve\nrather to expound to another the things they know, or even as _Lullies_\nart, to speak with judgment of the things we are ignorant of, then to\nlearn them. And although in effect it contain divers most true and good\nprecepts, yet there are so many others mixed amongst them, either\nhurtfull or superfluous, That it's even as difficult to extract them, as\n'tis to draw a _Diana_ or a _Mercury_ out of a lump of Marble, which is\nnot yet rough-hewn; as for the Analysis of the Ancients, and the\n_Algebra_ of the Moderns; besides that, they extend only to matters very\nabstract, and which seem to be of no use; The first being alwayes so\ntyed to the consideration of figures, That it cannot exercise the\nunderstanding, without very much tiring the imagination. And in the\nlatter they have so subjected themselves to certain Rules and cyphers,\nthat they have made a confus'd and obscure art which perplexeth the\nminde, in stead of a Science to instruct it. For this reason, I thought\nI ought to seek some other Method, which comprehending the advantages of\nthese, they might be exempt from their defects. And as the multitude of\nLaws often furnisheth excuses for vice; so a State is fair better\npolic'd, when having but a few, they are very strictly observ'd therein:\nSo, instead of the great many precepts whereof Logick is compos'd, I\nthought these four following would be sufficient for me, if I took but a\nfirm and constant resolution not once to fail in the observation of\nthem.\n\nThe first was, never to receive any thing for true, but what I evidently\nknew to be so; that's to say, Carefully to avoid Precipitation and\nPrevention, and to admit nothing more into my judgment, but what should\nso clearly and distinctly present it self to my minde, that I could have\nno reason to doubt of it.\n\nThe second, to divide every One of these difficulties, which I was to\nexamine into as many parcels as could be, and, as was requisite the\nbetter to resolve them.\n\nThe third, to lead my thoughts in order, beginning by the most simple\nobjects, and the easiest to be known; to rise by little and little, as\nby steps, even to the knowledg of the most mixt; and even supposing an\nOrder among those which naturally doe not precede one the other.\n\nAnd the last, to make every where such exact calculations, and such\ngenerall reviews, That I might be confident to have omitted Nothing.\n\nThose long chains of reasons, (though simple and easie) which the\nGeometricians commonly use to lead us to their most difficult\ndemonstrations, gave me occasion to imagine, That all things which may\nfall under the knowledg of Men, follow one the other in the same manner,\nand so we doe only abstain from receiving any one for true, which is not\nso, and observe alwayes the right order of deducing them one from the\nother, there can be none so remote, to which at last we shall not\nattain; nor so hid, which we shall not discover. Neither was I much\ntroubled to seek by which it behooved me to begin, for I already knew,\nthat it was by the most simple, and the easiest to be discern'd. But\nconsidering, that amongst all those who formerly have sought the Truth\nin Learning, none but the Mathematicians only could finde any\ndemonstrations, that's to say, any certain and evident reasons. I\ndoubted not, but that it was by the same that they have examin'd;\nalthough I did hope for no other profit, but only that they would\naccustome my Minde to nourish it self with Truths, and not content it\nself with false Reasons. But for all this, I never intended to endevour\nto learn all those particular Sciences which we commonly call'd\nMathematicall; And perceiving, that although their objects were\ndifferent, yet did they nevertheless agree altogether, in that they\nconsider no other thing, but the divers relations or proportions which\nare found therein; I thought it therefore better to examine those\nproportions in generall, and without supporting them but in those\nsubjects, which might the more easily serve to bring me to the knowledg\nof them. But withall, without any wayes limiting them, That I might\nafterwards the better sit them to all others whereto they might be\napplyed. Having also observ'd, That to know them, it would be sometimes\nneedfull for me to consider every one in particular, or sometimes only\nto restrain them, or comprehend many together; I thought, that to\nconsider them the better in particular I ought to suppose them in\nlines, for as much as I find nothing more simple, nor which I could more\ndistinctly represent to my imagination, and to my sences; But to hold or\ncomprehend many in one, I was oblig'd to explain them by certain Cyphers\nthe shortest I possibly could, and that I should thereby borrow the best\nof the Geometricall Analysis, and of Algebra, & so correct all the\ndefects of the one by the other.\n\nAs in effect I dare say, That the exact observation of those few\nprecepts I had chosen, gave me such a facility to resolve all the\nquestions whereto these two sciences extend; That in two or three months\nspace which I employed in the examination of them, having begun by the\nmost simple and most generall, and every Truth which I found being a\nrule which afterwards served me to discover others; I did not only\ncompasse divers truths which I had formerly judged most difficult, But\nme thought also that towards the end I could determin even in those\nwhich I was ignorant of, by what means and how farr it was possible to\nresolve them. Wherein perhaps I shall not appear to be very vain if you\nconsider, That there being but one truth of every thing, who ever finds\nit, knows as much of it as one can know; And that for example a child\ninstructed in Arithmatick having made an addition according to his\nrules, may be sure to have found, touching the sum he examined, all what\nthe wit of man could finde out. In a word the method which teacheth to\nfolow a right order, and exactly to enumerate all the circumstances of\nwhat we seek, contains, whatsoever ascertains the rules of Arithmatick.\n\nBut that which pleas'd me most in this Method was the assurance I had,\nwholly to use my reason, if not perfectly, at least as much as it was in\nmy power; Besides this, I perceived in the practice of it, my minde by\nlittle and little accustom'd it self to conceive its objects more\nclearly and distinctly; and having not subjected it to any particular\nmatter, I promised my self to apply it also as profitable to the\ndifficulties, of other sciences as I had to Algebra: Not that I\ntherefore durst at first undertake to examine all which might present\nthemselves, for that were contrary to the order it prescribes. But\nhaving observ'd that all their principles were to be borrowed from\nPhilosophy, in which I had yet found none that were certain, I thought\nit were needfull for me in the first place to endevor to establish some,\nand that this being the most important thing in the world, wherein\nprecipitation and prevention were the most to be feared, I should not\nundertake to performe it, till I had attain'd to a riper Age then XXIII.\nwhich was then mine. Before I had formerly employed a long time in\npreparing my self thereunto, aswel in rooting out of my minde all the\nill opinions I had before that time received, as in getting a stock of\nexperience to serve afterwards for the subject of my reasonings, and in\nexercising my self always in the Method I had prescribed. That I might\nthe more and more confine my self therein.\n\n\n\n\nPART. III.\n\n\nBut as it is not enough to pull down the house where we dwell, before we\nbegin to re-edify it, and to make provision of materials and architects,\nor performe that office our selves; nor yet to have carefully laid the\ndesign of it; but we must also have provided our selves of some other\nplace of abode during the time of the rebuilding: So that I might not\nremain irresolute in my actions, while reason would oblige me to be so\nin my judgments, and that I might continue to live the most happily I\ncould, I form'd for my own use in the interim a Moral, which consisted\nbut of three or four Maximes, which I shall communicate unto you.\n\nThe first was to obey the lawes and customes of my Country, constantly\nadhaering to that Religion wherein by the grace of God I had from mine\ninfancy bin bred. And in all other things behaving my self according to\nthe most moderate opinions and those which were farthest from excesse,\nwhich were commonly received in practice by the most judicious Men,\namongst whom I was to live: For beginning from that very time, to reckon\nmine own for nothing, because I could bring them all to the test, I was\nconfident I could not do better then follow those of the deepest sense;\nand although perhaps there are as understanding men amongst the Persians\nor Chineses as amongst us, yet I thought it was more fit to regulate my\nself by those with whom I was to live, and that I might truly know what\ntheir opinions were, I was rather to observe what they practic'd, then\nwhat they taught. Not only by reason of the corruption of our manners,\nthere are but few who will say, all they beleeve, but also because\ndivers are themselves ignorant of it; for the act of the thought by\nwhich we beleeve a thing, being different from that whereby we know that\nwe believe it, the one often is without the other. And amongst divers\nopinions equally receiv'd, I made choise of the most moderate only, as\nwell because they are always the most fit for practice, and probably the\nbest, all excess being commonly ill; As also that I might less err from\nthe right way, if I should perhaps miss it, then if having chosen one of\nthe extremes, it might prove to be the other, which I should have\nfollowed. And particularly I plac'd amongst extremities, all those\npromises by which we somwhat restrain our liberty. Not that I\ndisapproved the laws, which to cure the inconstancy of weak minds,\npermit us when we have any good design, or else for the preservation of\nCommerce, one that is but indifferent, to make vows or contracts, which\noblige us to persevere in them: But because I saw nothing in the world\nremain always in the same state; and forming own particular, promised my\nself to perfect more and more my judgment, and not to impair it, I\nshould have thought my self guilty of a great fault against right\nunderstanding, if because I then approved any thing, I were also\nafterwards oblig'd to take it for good, when perhaps it ceased to be so,\nor that I had ceased to esteem it so.\n\nMy second Maxime was, To be the most constant and resolute in my actions\nthat I could; and to follow with no less perseverance the most doubtfull\nopinions, when I had once determined them, then if they had been the\nmost certain. Imitating herein Travellers, who having lost their way in\na Forrest, ought not to wander, turning now this way, and then that, and\nless to abide in one place; but stil advance straight forwards, towards\none way, and not to change on slight occasions, although perhaps at\nfirst Chance only mov'd them to determine that choice: For by that\nmeans, if they do not go directly whither they desire, they will at\nleast arrive somewhere where they will probably be better then in the\nmidst of a Forrest. So the actions of this life admitting often of no\ndelay, its a most certain Truth, That when it is not in our power to\ndiscern the truest opinions, we are to follow the most probable: Yea,\nalthough we finde no more probability in the one then in the other, we\nyet ought to determine some way, considering them afterwards no more as\ndoubtful in what they relate to practice; but as most true and certain;\nforasmuch as the reason was so, which made us determine it. And this was\nsufficient for that time to free me from all the remorse and repentance\nwhich useth to perplex the consciences of those weak and staggering\nminds, which inconstantly suffer themselves to passe to the practice of\nthose things as good, which they afterwards judge evill.\n\nMy third Maxime was, To endevour always rather to conquer my self then\nFortune; and to change my desires, rather then the order of the world:\nand generally to accustome my self to beleeve, That there is nothing\nwholly in our power but our thoughts; so that after we have done our\nbest, touching things which are without us, all whats wanting of success\nin respect of us is absolutely impossible. And this alone seem'd\nsufficient to hinder me from desiring any thing which I could not\nacquire, and so to render me content. For our will naturally moving us\nto desire nothing, but those things which our understanding presents in\nsome manner as possible, certain it is, that if we consider all the good\nwhich is without us, as equally distant from our power, we should have\nno more regret for the want of those which seem due to our births, when\nwithout any fault of ours we shall be deprived of them, then we have in\nwanting the possessions of the Kingdoms of _China_ or _Mexico_. And\nmaking (as we say) vertue of necessity, we should no more desire to be\nin health being sick, or free being in prison, then we now do, to have\nbodies of as incorruptible a matter as diamonds, or wings to fly like\nbirds. But I confess, that a long exercise, and an often reiterated\nmeditation, is necessary to accustom us to look on all things with that\nbyass: And I beleeve, in this principally consists, the secret of those\nPhilosophers who formerly could snatch themselves from the Empire of\nFortune, and in spight of pains and poverty, dispute felicity with their\nGods, for imploying themselves incessantly in considering the bounds\nwhich Nature had prescribed them, they so perfectly perswaded\nthemselves, That nothing was in their power but their thoughts, that,\nthat onely was enough to hinder them from having any affection for other\nthings. And they disposed so absolutely of them, that therein they had\nsome reason to esteem themselves more rich and powerfull, more free and\nhappy then any other men; who wanting this _Philosophy_, though they\nwere never so much favoured by Nature and Fortune, could never dispose\nof all things so well as they desired.\n\nLastly, To conclude these Morals, I thought fit to make a review of mens\nseverall imployments in this life, that I might endeavour to make choice\nof the best, and without prejudice to other mens, I thought I could not\ndo better then to continue in the same wherein I was, that is, to imploy\nall my life in cultivating my Reason, and advancing my self, as far as I\ncould in the knowledge of Truth, following the Method I had prescribed\nmyself. I was sensible of such extreme contentment since I began to use\nthis Method, that I thought none could in this life be capable of any\nmore sweet and innocent: and daily discovering by means thereof, some\nTruths which seemed to me of importance, and commonly such as other men\nwere ignorant of, the satisfaction I thereby received did so possesse my\nminde, as if all things else concern'd me not. Besides, that the three\npreceding Maximes were grounded only on the designe I had, to continue\nthe instruction of my self. For God having given to every one of us a\nlight to discern truth from falsehood, I could not beleeve I ought to\ncontent my self one moment with the opinions of others, unlesse I had\nproposed to my self in due time to imploy my judgment in the examination\nof them. Neither could I have exempted my self from scruple in following\nthem, had I not hoped to lose no occasion of finding out better, if\nthere were any.\n\nBut to conclude, I could not have bounded my desires, nor have been\ncontent, had I not followed a way, whereby thinking my self assured to\nacquire all the knowledge I could be capable of: I thought I might by\nthe same means attain to all that was truly good, which should ever be\nwithin my power; forasmuch as our Will inclining it self to follow, or\nfly nothing but what our Understanding proposeth good or ill, to judge\nwell is sufficient to do well, and to judge the best we can, to do also\nwhat's best; to wit, to acquire all vertues, and with them all\nacquirable goods: and whosoever is sure of that, he can never fail of\nbeing content.\n\nAfter I had thus confirmed my self with these Maximes, and laid them up\nwith the Articles of Faith, which always had the first place in my\nBelief, I judg'd that I might freely undertake to expell all the rest of\nmy opinions. And forasmuch as I did hope to bring it the better to passe\nby conversing with men, then by staying any longer in my stove, where I\nhad had all these thoughts: before the Winter was fully ended, I\nreturned to my travels; and in all the nine following yeers I did\nnothing but rowl here and there about the world, endeavouring rather to\nbe a spectator, then an actor in all those Comedies which were acted\ntherein: and reflecting particularly on every subject which might render\nit suspected, or afford any occasion mistake. In the mean time I rooted\nout of my minde all those errours which formerly had crept in. Not that\nI therein imitated the Scepticks, who doubt onely to the end they may\ndoubt, and affect to be always unresolved: For on the contrary, all my\ndesigne tended onely to fix my self, and to avoid quick-mires and sands,\nthat I might finde rock and clay: which (me thought) succeeded well\nenough; forasmuch as, seeking to discover the falshood or uncertainty of\nthose propositions I examined, (not by weak conjectures, but by clear\nand certain ratiocinations) I met with none so doubtfull, but I thence\ndrew some conclusion certain enough, were it but onely this, That it\ncontained nothing that was certain. And as in pulling down an old house,\ncommonly those materials are reserved which may serve to build a new\none; so in destroying all those my opinions which I judg'd ill grounded,\nI made divers observations, and got severall experiences which served me\nsince to establish more certain ones. And besides I continued to\nexercise my self in the Method I had prescribed.\n\nFor I was not only carefull to direct all my thoughts in generall\naccording to its rules, but I from time to time reserv'd some houres,\nwhich I particularly employd to practice it in difficulties belonging to\nthe Mathematicks, loosening from all the principles of other Sciences,\nwhich I found not stable enough, as you may see I have done in divers\nexplain'd in my other following discourses. And thus not living in\nappearance otherwise then those who having no other business then to\nlead a sweet and innocent life, study to separate pleasures from vices,\nand use honest recreations to enjoy their ease without wearinesse; I did\nnot forbear to pursue my design, and advance in the knowledg of truth,\nperhaps more, then if I had done nothing but read books or frequent\nlearned men.\n\nYet these nine years were vanished, before I had engaged my self in\nthose difficulties which use to be disputed amongst the learned; or\nbegun to seek the grounds of any more certain Philosophy then the\nVulgar: And the example of divers excellent Men who formerly having had\nthe same designe, seem'd not to me to have succeeded therein, made me\nimagine so much difficulty, that I had not perhaps dar'd so quickly to\nhave undertaken it, had I not perceiv'd that some already had given it\nout that I had already accomplished it. I know not whereupon they\ngrounded this opinion, and if I have contributed any thing thereto by my\ndiscourse, it must have been by confessing more ingeniously what I was\nignorant of, then those are wont to do who have a little studyed, and\nperhaps also by comunicating those reasons, I had to doubt of many\nthings which others esteem'd most eminent, rather then that I bragg'd of\nany learning. But having integrity enough, not to desire to be taken for\nwhat I was not, I thought that I ought to endeavour by all means to\nrender my self worthy of the reputation which was given me. And 'tis now\neight years since this desire made me resolve to estrange my self from\nall places where I might have any acquaintance, and so retire my self\nhither in a Country where the long continuance of the warre hath\nestablished such orders, that the Armies which are intertain'd there,\nseem to serve onely to make the inhabitants enjoy the fruits of peace\nwith so much the more security; and where amongst the croud of a great\npeople more active and solicitous for their own affaires, then curious\nof other mens, not wanting any of those necessaries which are in the\nmost frequented Towns, I could live as solitary and retired as in the\nmost remote deserts.\n\n\n\n\nPart. IIII.\n\n\nI Know not whether I ought to entertain you with the first Meditations\nwhich I had there, for they are so Metaphysicall and so little common,\nthat perhaps they will not be relished by all men: And yet that you may\njudge whether the foundations I have laid are firm enough, I find my\nself in a manner oblig'd to discourse them; I had long since observed\nthat as for manners, it was somtimes necessary to follow those opinions\nwhich we know to be very uncertain, as much as if they were indubitable,\nas is beforesaid: But because that then I desired onely to intend the\nsearch of truth, I thought I ought to doe the contrary, and reject as\nabsolutely false all wherein I could imagine the least doubt, to the end\nI might see if afterwards any thing might remain in my belief, not at\nall subject to doubt. Thus because our senses sometimes deceive us, I\nwould suppose that there was nothing which was such as they represented\nit to us. And because there are men who mistake themselves in reasoning,\neven in the most simple matters of Geometry, and make therein\nParalogismes, judging that I was as subject to fail as any other Man, I\nrejected as false all those reasons, which I had before taken for\nDemonstrations. And considering, that the same thoughts which we have\nwaking, may also happen to us sleeping, when as not any one of them is\ntrue. I resolv'd to faign, that all those things which ever entred into\nmy Minde, were no more true, then the illusions of my dreams. But\npresently after I observ'd, that whilst I would think that all was\nfalse, it must necessarily follow, that I who thought it, must be\nsomething. And perceiving that this Truth, _I think_, therefore, _I am_,\nwas so firm and certain, that all the most extravagant suppositions of\nthe Scepticks was not able to shake it, I judg'd that I might receive it\nwithout scruple for the first principle of the Philosophy I sought.\n\nExamining carefully afterwards what I was; and seeing that I could\nsuppose that I had no _body_, and that there was no _World_, nor any\n_place_ where I was: but for all this, I could not feign that I _was\nnot_; and that even contrary thereto, thinking to doubt the truth of\nother things, it most evidently and certainly followed, That _I was_:\nwhereas, if I had ceas'd to _think_, although all the rest of what-ever\nI had imagined were true, I had no reason to beleeve that _I had been_.\nI knew then that I was a substance, whose whole essence or nature is,\nbut to _think_, and who to _be_, hath need of no place, nor depends on\nany materiall thing. So that this _Me_, to wit, my Soul, by which I am\nwhat I am, is wholly distinct from the Body, and more easie to be known\nthen _it_; and although _that_ were not, it would not therefore cease to\nbe what it is.\n\nAfter this I considered in generall what is requisite in a Proposition\nto make it true and certain: for since I had found out one which I knew\nto be so, I thought I ought also to consider wherein that certainty\nconsisted: and having observed, That there is nothing at all in this, _I\nthink_, therefore _I am_, which assures me that I speak the truth,\nexcept this, that I see most cleerly, That _to think_, one must have a\n_being_; I judg'd that I might take for a generall rule, That those\nthings which we conceive cleerly and distinctly, are all true; and that\nthe onely difficulty is punctually to observe what those are which we\ndistinctly conceive.\n\nIn pursuance whereof, reflecting on what I doubted, and that\nconsequently my _being_ was not perfect; for I clearly perceived, that\nit was a greater perfection to know, then to doubt, I advised in my\nself to seek from whence I had learnt to think on something which was\nmore perfect then I; and I knew evidently that it must be of some nature\nwhich was indeed more perfect. As for what concerns the thoughts I had\nof divers other things without my self, as of heaven, earth, light,\nheat, and a thousand more, I was not so much troubled to know whence\nthey came, for that I observed nothing in them which seemed to render\nthem superiour to me; I might beleeve, that if they were true, they were\ndependancies from my nature, as far forth as it had any perfection; and\nif they were not, I made no accompt of them; that is to say, That they\nwere in me, because I had something deficient. But it could not be the\nsame with the _Idea_ of a being more perfect then mine: For to esteem of\nit as of nothing, was a thing manifestly impossible. And because there\nis no lesse repugnancy that the more perfect should succeed from and\ndepend upon the less perfect, then for something to proceed from\nnothing, I could no more hold it from my self: So as it followed, that\nit must have bin put into me by a Nature which was truly more perfect\nthen _I_, and even which had in it all the perfections whereof I could\nhave an _Idea_; to wit, (to explain my self in one word) God. Whereto I\nadded, that since I knew some perfections which I had not, I was not the\nonely _Being_ which had an existence, (I shall, under favour, use here\nfreely the terms of the Schools) but that of necessity there must be\nsome other more perfect whereon I depended, and from whom I had gotten\nall what I had: For had I been alone, and depending upon no other thing,\nso that I had had of my self all that little which I participated of a\nperfect Being, I might have had by the same reason from my self, all the\nremainder which I knew I wanted, and so have been my self infinite,\neternall, immutable, all-knowing, almighty; and lastly, have had all\nthose perfections which I have observed to be in God. For according to\nthe way of reasoning I have now followed, to know the nature of God, as\nfar as mine own was capable of it, I was onely to consider of those\nthings of which I found an _Idea_ in me, whether the possessing of them\nwere a perfection or no; and I was sure, that any of those which had any\nimperfections were not in him, but that all others were. I saw that\ndoubtfulness, inconstancy, sorrow and the like, could not be in him,\nseeing I could my self have wish'd to have been exempted from them.\nBesides this, I had the _Ideas_ of divers sensible and corporeall\nthings; for although I supposed that I doted, and that all that I saw or\nimagined was false; yet could I not deny but that these _Ideas_ were\ntruly in my thoughts. But because I had most evidently known in my self,\nThat the understanding Nature is distinct from the corporeall,\nconsidering that all composition witnesseth a dependency, and that\ndependency is manifestly a defect, I thence judged that it could not be\na perfection in God to be composed of those two Natures; and that by\nconsequence he was not so composed. But that if there were any Bodies in\nthe world, or els any intelligences, or other Natures which were not\nwholly perfect, their being must depend from his power in such a manner,\nthat they could not subsist one moment without him.\n\nThence I went in search of other Truths; and having proposed _Geometry_\nfor my object, which I conceived as a continued Body, or a space\nindefinitely spred in length, bredth, height or depth, divisible into\ndivers parts, which might take severall figures and bignesses, and be\nmoved and transposed every way. For the Geometricians suppose all this\nin their object. I past through some of their most simple\ndemonstrations; and having observed that this great certaintie, which\nall the world grants them, is founded only on this, that men evidently\nconceived them, following the rule I already mentioned. I observed also\nthat there was nothing at all in them which ascertain'd me of the\nexistence of their object. As for example, I well perceive, that\nsupposing a Triangle, three angles necessarily must be equall to two\nright ones: but yet nevertheless I saw nothing which assured me that\nthere was a Triangle in the world. Whereas returning to examine the\n_Idea_ which I had of a perfect Being, _I_ found its existence comprised\nin it, in the same manner as it was comprised in that of a Triangle,\nwhere the three angles are equall to two right ones; or in that of a\nsphere, where all the parts are equally distant from the center. Or even\nyet more evidently, and that by consequence, it is at least as certain\nthat God, who is that perfect Being, is, or exists, as any demonstration\nin Geometry can be.\n\nBut that which makes many perswade themselves that there is difficulty\nin knowing it, as also to know what their Soul is, 'tis that they never\nraise their thoughts beyond sensible things, and that they are so\naccustomed to consider nothing but by imagination, which is a particular\nmanner of thinking on materiall things, that whatsoever is not\nimaginable seems to them not intelligible. Which is manifest enough from\nthis, that even the Philosophers hold for a Maxime in the Schools, That\nthere is nothing in the understanding which was not first in the sense;\nwhere notwithstanding its certain, that the _Ideas_ of God and of the\nSoul never were. And (me thinks) those who use their imagination to\ncomprehend them, are just as those, who to hear sounds, or smell odours,\nwould make use of their eys; save that there is yet this difference,\nThat the sense of seeing assures us no lesse of the truth of its\nobjects, then those of smelling or hearing do: whereas neither our\nimagination, nor our senses, can ever assure us of any thing, if our\nunderstanding intervenes not.\n\nTo be short, if there remain any who are not enough perswaded of the\nexistence of God, and of their soul, from the reasons I have produc'd, I\nwould have them know, that all other things, whereof perhaps they think\nthemselves more assured, as to have a body, and that there are Stars,\nand an earth, and the like, are less certain. For although we had such a\nmorall assurance of these things, that without being extravagant we\ncould not doubt of them. However, unless we be unreasonable when a\nmetaphysicall certainty is in question, we cannot deny but we have cause\nenough not to be wholly confirmed in them, when we consider that in the\nsame manner we may imagine being asleep, we have other bodies, and that\nwe see other Stars, and another earth, though there be no such thing.\nFor how doe we know that those thoughts which we have in our dreams,\nare rather false then the others, seeing often they are no less lively\nand significant, and let the ablest men study it as long as they please,\nI beleeve they can give no sufficient reason to remove this doubt,\nunless they presuppose the existence of God. For first of all, that\nwhich I even now took for a rule, to wit, that those things which were\nmost clearly and distinctly conceived, are all true, is certain, only by\nreason, that God is or exists, and that he is a perfect being, and that\nall which we have comes from him. Whence it follows, that our Idea's or\nnotions, being reall things, and which come from God in all wherein they\nare clear and distinct, cannot therein be but true. So that if we have\nvery often any which contain falshood, they cannot be but of such things\nwhich are somewhat confus'd and obscure, because that therein they\nsignifie nothing to us, that's to say, that they are thus confus'd in us\nonly, because we are not wholly perfect. And it's evident that there is\nno less contrariety that falshood and imperfection should proceed from\nGod, as such, then there is in this, that truth and falshood proceed\nfrom nothing. But if we know not that whatsoever was true and reall in\nus comes from a perfect and infinite being, how clear and distinct\nsoever our Idea's were, we should have no reason to assure us, that they\nhad the perfection to be true.\n\nNow after that the knowledge of God, and of the Soul hath rendred us\nthus certain of this rule, it's easie to know; that the extravaganceys\nwhich we imagin in our sleep, ought no way to make us doubt of the truth\nof those thoughts which we have being awake: For if it should happen,\nthat even sleeping we should have a very distinct Idea; as for example,\nA Geometritian should invent some new demonstration, his sleeping would\nnot hinder it to be true. And for the most ordinary error of our\ndreames, which consists in that they represent unto us severall objects\nin the same manner as our exterior senses doe, it matters not though it\ngive us occasion to mistrust the truth of those Ideas, because that they\nmay also often enough cozen us when we doe not sleep; As when to those\nwho have the Jaundies, all they see seems yellow; or, as the Stars or\nother bodies at a distance, appear much less then they are. For in fine,\nwhether we sleep or wake, we ought never to suffer our selves to be\nperswaded but by the evidence of our Reason; I say, (which is\nobservable) Of our Reason, and not of our imagination, or of our senses.\nAs although we see the Sun most clearly, we are not therefore to judge\nhim to be of the bigness we see him of; and we may well distinctly\nimagine the head of a Lion, set on the body of a Goat, but therefore we\nought not to conclude that there is a _Chimera_ in the world. For reason\ndoth not dictate to us, that what we see or imagine so, is true: But it\ndictates, that all our Idea's or notions ought to have some grounds of\ntruth; For it were not possible, that God who is all perfect, and all\ntruth, should have put them in us without that: And because that our\nreasonings are never so evident, nor so entire while we sleep, as when\nwe wake, although sometimes our imaginations be then as much or more\nlively and express. It also dictates to us, that our thoughts, seeing\nthey cannot be all true by reason that we are not wholly perfect; what\nthey have of truth, ought infallibly to occur in those which we have\nbeing awake, rather then in our dreams.\n\n\n\n\nPart. V.\n\n\nI should be glad to pursue this Discourse, and shew you the whole Series\nof the following Truths, which I have drawn from the former: But because\nfor this purpose, it were now necessary for me to treat of severall\nquestions, which are controverted by the learned, with whom I have no\ndesire to imbroil my self, I beleeve it better for me to abstain from\nit; and so in generall onely to discover what they are, that I may leave\nthe wisest to judge whether it were profitable to inform the publick\nmore particularly of them. I alwayes remained constant to my resolution,\nto suppose no other Principle but that which I now made use of, for the\ndemonstration of the Existence of God, and of the Soul; and to receive\nnothing for true, which did not seem to me more clear and more certain\nthen the demonstrations of Geometry had formerly done. And yet I dare\nsay, that I have not onely found out the means to satisfie my self, in a\nshort time, concerning all the principall difficulties which are usually\ntreated in Philosophy. But that also _I_ have observed certain Laws\nwhich God hath so established in Nature, and of which he hath imprinted\nsuch notions in our Souls, that when we shall have made sufficient\nreflections upon them we cannot doubt but that they are exactly observed\nin whatsoever either is, or is done in the World. Then considering the\nconnexion of these Laws, me thinks, I have discovercd divers Truths,\nmore usefull and important then whatever _I_ learn'd before, or ever\nhop'd to learn.\n\nBut because _I_ have endeavoured to lay open the principall of them in a\nTreatise, which some considerations hinder me from publishing; _I_ can\nno way better make them known, then by relating summarily what it\ncontains.\n\nI had a designe to comprehend all what I thought _I_ knew, before _I_\nwould write it, touching the nature of material things. But even as\nPainters, not being able equally well to represent upon a _flat_ all the\nseverall facies of a solid body, chuse the principall of them, which\nthey place towards the light; and shadowing the others, make them appear\nno more then they do to our sight: So, fearing lest _I_ should not bring\ninto this Discourse all which was in my thoughts, _I_ onely undertook to\nset forth at large my conceptions touching the light; and upon that\noccasion to add somewhat of the Sun, and of the fix'd Stars, by reason\nthat it proceeds almost all from thence; of the Heavens, because they\ntransmit it; of the Planets, of the Comets, and of the Earth, because\nthey cause it to reflect; and in particular, of all Bodies which are on\nthe earth, whether for that they are either coloured, or transparent, or\nluminous; and last of all, of Man, because he is the Spectator thereof.\nAs also, in some manner to shadow out all these things, and that _I_\nmight the more freely speak what _I_ judg'd, without being obliged to\nfollow, or to refute the opinions which are received amongst the\nLearned, _I_ resolved to leave all this world here to their disputes,\nand to speak onely of what would happen in a new one, if God now created\nsome where in those imaginary spaces matter enough to compose it, and\nthat he diversly and without order agitated the severall parts of this\nmatter, so as to compose a Chaos of it as confused as the Poets could\nfeign one: and that afterwards he did nothing but lend his ordinary\nconcurrence to Nature, and leave her to work according to the Laws he\nhath established.\n\nThus first of all _I_ described this Matter, and endevoured to\nrepresent it such, that me thinks there is nothing in the world more\nclear, or more intelligible, except what was beforesaid of God, and of\nthe Soul. For even _I_ expresly supposed that there was in it none of\nthose forms and qualities which are disputed in the Schools; nor\ngenerally any thing but that the knowledge thereof was so naturall to\nour understandings, that we could not even feigne to be ignorant of it.\nBesides, I made known what the Laws of Nature were; and without\ngrounding my reasons on any other principles, but on the infinite\nperfections of God, I did endeavour to demonstrate all those which might\nbe questioned, and to make them appear to be such, that although God had\ncreated divers worlds, there could have been none where they were not\nobserved. Afterwards _I_ shewed how the greater part of the Matter of\nthis _Chaos_ ought, according to those Laws, to dispose and order it\nself in a certain manner, which would make it like our Heavens: And how\nsome of these parts were to compose an Earth, and some Planets and\nCommets, some others a Sun and fix'd Starrs. And here enlarging my self\non the subject of Light, _I_ at length explain'd what that light was,\nwhich was to be in the Sun and Stars; and thence how it travers'd in an\ninstant the immense spaces of the Heavens, and how it reflected it self\nfrom Planets and Commets towards the Earth. _I_ added also divers things\ntouching the substance, situation, the motions, and all the several\nqualities of these heavens and these stars: So that _I_ thought _I_ had\nsaid enough to make known, That there is nothing remarkable in those of\nthis world, which ought not, or at least could not appear altogether\nlike to these of that world which _I_ described.\n\nThence _I_ came to speak particularly of the Earth; how, although I had\nexpresly supposed, that God had placed no weight in the Matter whereof\nit was composed; yet all its parts exactly tended towards its center:\nHow that there being water and air upon its superficies, the disposition\nof the Heavens, and of the Starrs, and chiefly of the Moon, ought to\ncause a floud and an ebb, which in all circumstances was like to that\nwhich we observe in our Seas; And besides, a certain course aswel of the\nwater, as of the air, from East to West, as is also observed between the\nTropicks: How the Mountains, the Seas, the Springs and Rivers might\nnaturally be form'd therein, and Metals run in the mines, and Plants\ngrow in the Fields, and generally all bodies be therein engendered which\nare call'd mixt or composed.\n\nAnd amongst other things, because that next the Stars, I know nothing in\nthe world but Fire, which produceth light, I studied to make all clearly\nunderstood which belongs to its nature; how it's made, how it's fed,\nhow sometimes it hath heat onely without light, and sometimes onely\nlight without heat; how it can introduce several colours into several\nbodies, and divers other qualities; how it dissolves some, and hardens\nothers; how it can consume almost all, or convert them into ashes and\nsmoak: and last of all, how of those ashes, by the only violence of its\naction, it forms glass. For this transmutation of ashes into glass,\nseeming to me to be as admirable as any other operation in Nature, I\nparticularly took pleasure to describe it.\n\nYet would I not inferre from all these things, that this World was\ncreated after the manner I had proposed. For it is more probable that\nGod made it such as it was to be, from the beginning. But it's certain,\nand 'tis an opinion commonly received amongst the Divines, That the\naction whereby he now preserveth it, is the same with that by which he\ncreated it. So that, although at the beginning he had given it no other\nform but that of a Chaos (provided, that having established the Laws of\nNature, he had afforded his concurrence to it, to work as it used to do)\nwe may beleeve (without doing wrong to the miracle of the Creation) that\nby that alone all things which are purely material might in time have\nrendred themselves such as we now see them: and their nature is far\neasier to conceive, when by little and little we see them brought forth\nso, then when we consider them quite form'd all at once.\n\nFrom the description of inanimate Bodies and Plants, I pass'd to that of\nAnimals, and particularly to that of Men. But because I had not yet\nknowledge enough to speak of them in the same stile as of the others; to\nwit, in demonstrating effects by their causes, and shewing from what\nseeds, and in what manner Nature ought to produce them; I contented my\nself to suppose, That God form'd the body of a Man altogether like one\nof ours; aswel the exteriour figure of its members, as in the interiour\nconformity of its organs; without framing it of other matter then of\nthat which I had described; and without putting in it at the beginning\nany reasonable soul, or any other thing to serve therein for a\nvegetative or sensitive soul; unless he stirr'd up in his heart one of\nthose fires without light which I had already discovered; and that I\nconceiv'd of no other nature but that which heats hay when its housed\nbefore it be dry, or which causes new Wines to boyl when it works upon\nthe grape: For examining the functions which might be consequently in\nthis body, I exactly found all those which may be in us, without our\nthinking of them; and to which our soul (that is to say, that distinct\npart from our bodies, whose nature (as hath been said before) is onely\nto think) consequently doth not contribute, and which are all the same\nwherein we may say unreasonable creatures resemble us. Yet could I not\nfinde any, of those which depending from the thought, are the onely ones\nwhich belong unto us as Men; whereas I found them all afterwards, having\nsupposed that God created a reasonable soul, and that he joyn'd it to\nthis body, after a certain manner which I describ'd.\n\nBut that you might see how I treated this matter, I shall here present\nyou with the explication of the motion of the heart, and of the\narteries, which being the first and most general (which is observed in\nanimals) we may thereby easily judge what we ought to think of all the\nrest. And that we may have the less difficulty to understand what I\nshall say thereof, I wish those who are not versed in Anatomy, would\ntake the pains, before they read this, to cause the heart of some great\nanimal which hath lungs, to be dissected; for in all of them its very\nlike that of a Man: and that they may have shewn them the two cels or\nconcavities which are there: First that on the right side, whereto two\nlarge conduits answer, to wit, the _vena cava_, which is the principal\nreceptacle of bloud, and as the body of a tree, whereof all the other\nveins of the body are branches; and the arterious vein, which was so\nmis-call'd, because that in effect its an artery, which taking its\n_origine_ from the heart, divides it self after being come forth, into\ndivers branches, which every way spred themselves through the lungs.\nThen the other which is on the left side, whereunto in the same manner\ntwo pipes answer, which are as large, or larger then the former; to wit,\nthe veinous artery, which was also il named, forasmuch as its nothing\nelse but a vein which comes from the lungs, where its divided into\nseveral branches interlaid with those of the arterious vein, and those\nof that pipe which is called the Whistle, by which the breath enters.\nAnd the great artery, which proceeding from the heart, disperseth its\nbranches thorow all the body. I would also that they would carefully\nobserve the eleven little skins, which, as so many little doors, open\nand shut the four openings which are in these two concavities; to wit,\nthree at the entry of the _vena cava_, where they are so disposed, that\nthey can no wayes hinder the bloud which it contains from running into\nthe right concavity of the heart; and yet altogether hinder it from\ncoming out. Three at the entry of the arterious vein; which being\ndisposed quite contrary, permit only the bloud which is in that\nconcavity to pass to the lungs; but not that which is in the lungs to\nreturn thither. And then two others at the entry of the veinous artery,\nwhich permits the bloud to run to the left concavity of the heart, but\nopposeth its return. And three at the entry of the great artery, which\npermit it to go from the heart, but hinder its return thither. Neither\nneed we seek any other reason for the number of these skins, save only\nthat the opening of the veinous artery, being oval-wise, by reason of\nits situation, may be fitly shut with two; whereas the other, being\nround, may the better be clos'd with three. Besides, I would have them\nconsider, that the great artery and the arterious vein are of a\ncomposition much stronger then the veinous artery or the _vena cava_.\nAnd that these two later grow larger before they enter into the heart,\nand make (as it were) two purses, call'd the ears of the heart, which\nare composed of a flesh like it; and that there is always more heat in\nthe heart then in any other part of the body. And in fine, that if any\ndrop of bloud enter into these concavities, this heat is able to make it\npresently swell and dilate it self, as generally all liquors do, when\ndrop by drop we let them fall into a very hot vessel.\n\nFor after this I need say no more for to unfold the motion of the\nheart, but that when these concavities are not full of bloud,\nnecessarily there runs some from the _vena cava_ into the right, and\nfrom the veinous artery into the left; for that these two vessels are\nalways full of it, and that their openings which are towards the heart\ncannot then be shut: But that assoon as there is thus but two drops of\nbloud entred, one in either of these concavities, these drops, which\ncannot but be very big, by reason that their openings whereby they enter\nare very large, and the vessels whence they come very full of bloud, are\nrarified and dilated because of the heat which they find therein. By\nmeans whereof, causing all the heart to swel, they drive and shut the\nfive little doors which are at the entry of the two vessels whence they\ncome, hindering thereby any more bloud to fall down into the heart, and\ncontinuing more and more to rarifie themselves, they drive and open the\nsix other little doors which are at the entry of the other two vessels\nwhence they issue, causing by that means all the branches of the\narterious vein, and of the great artery, to swel (as it were) at the\nsame time with the heart: which presently after fals, as those arteries\nalso do, by reason that the bloud which is entred therein grows colder,\nand their six little doors shut up again, and those five of the _vena\ncava_, and of the veinous artery open again, and give way to two other\ndrops of bloud, which again swell the heart and the arteries in the same\nmanner as the preceding did. And because the bloud which thus enters\ninto the heart, passeth thorow those two purses, which are call'd the\nears; thence it comes, that their motion is contrary to the heart's, and\nthat they fall when that swels.\n\nLastly, That they who know not the force of Mathematical demonstrations,\nand are not accustomed to distinguish true reasons from probable ones,\nmay not venture to deny this without examining it, I shall advertise\nthem, that this motion which I have now discovered, as necessarily\nfollows from the onely disposition of the organs (which may plainly be\nseen in the heart,) and from the heat (which we may feel with our\nfingers,) and from the nature of the bloud (which we may know by\nexperience,) as the motions of a clock doth by the force, situation and\nfigure of its weight and wheels.\n\nBut if it be asked, how it comes that the bloud of the veins is not\nexhausted, running so continually into the heart; and how that the\narteries are not too full, since all that which passeth thorow the heart\ndischargeth it self into them: I need answer nothing thereto but what\nhath been already writ by an English Physician, to whom this praise must\nbe given, to have broken the ice in this place, and to be the first who\ntaught us, That there are several little passages in the extremity of\nthe arteries whereby the bloud which they receive from the heart,\nenters the little branches of the veins; whence again it sends it self\nback towards the heart: so that its course is no other thing but a\nperpetuall circulation. Which he very wel proves by the ordinary\nexperience of Chirurgians, who having bound the arm indifferently hard\nabove the the place where they open the vein, which causeth the bloud to\nissue more abundantly, then if it had not been bound. And the contrary\nwould happen, were it bound underneath, between the hand and the\nincision, or bound very hard above. For its manifest, that the band\nindifferently tyed, being able to hinder the bloud which is already in\nthe arm to return towards the heart by the veins; yet it therefore\nhinders not the new from coming always by the arteries, by reason they\nare placed under the veins, and that their skin being thicker, are less\neasie to be press'd, as also that the bloud which comes from the heart,\nseeks more forcibly to passe by them towards the hand, then it doth to\nreturn from thence towards the heart by the veins. And since this bloud\nwhich issues from the arm by the incision made in one of the veins, must\nnecessarily have some passage under the bond, to wit, towards the\nextremities of the arm, whereby it may come thither by the arteries, he\nalso proves very well what he sayes of the course of the bloud through\ncertain little skins, which are so disposed in divers places along the\nveins, which permit it not to pass from the middle towards the\nextremities, but onely to return from the extremities towards the heart.\nAnd besides this, experience shews, That all the bloud which is in the\nbody may in a very little time run out by one onely artery's being cut,\nalthough it were even bound very neer the heart, and cut betwixt it and\nthe ligature: So that we could have no reason to imagine that the bloud\nwhich issued thence could come from any other part.\n\nBut there are divers other things which witness, that the true cause of\nthis motion of the bloud is that which I have related. As first, The\ndifference observed between that which issues out of the veins, and that\nwhich comes out of the arteries, cannot proceed but from its being\nrarified and (as it were) distilled by passing thorow the heart: its\nmore subtil, more lively, and more hot presently after it comes out;\nthat is to say, being in the arteries, then it is a little before it\nenters them, that is to say, in the veins. And if you observe, you will\nfinde, that this difference appears not well but about the heart; and\nnot so much in those places which are farther off. Next, the hardnesse\nof the skin of which the artery vein and the great artery are composed,\nsheweth sufficiently, that the bloud beats against them more forcibly\nthen against the veins. And why should the left concavity of the heart,\nand the great artery be more large and ample then the right concavity,\nand the arterious vein; unless it were that the bloud of the veinous\nartery, having bin but onely in the lungs since its passage thorow the\nheart, is more subtil, and is rarified with more force and ease then the\nbloud which immediately comes from the _vena cava_. And what can the\nPhysicians divine by feeling of the pulse, unlesse they know, that\naccording as the bloud changeth its nature, it may by the heat of the\nheart be rarified to be more or lesse strong, and more or lesse quick\nthen before. And if we examine how this heat is communicated to the\nother members, must we not avow that 'tis by means of the bloud, which\npassing the heart, reheats it self there, and thence disperseth it self\nthorow the whole body: whence it happens, that if you take away the\nbloud from any part, the heat by the same means also is taken a way. And\nalthough the heart were as burning as hot iron, it were not sufficient\nto warm the feet and the hands so often as it doth, did it not continue\nto furnish them with new bloud.\n\nBesides, from thence we know also that the true use of respiration is to\nbring fresh air enough to the lungs, to cause that bloud which comes\nfrom the right concavity of the heart, where it was rarified, and (as it\nwere) chang'd into vapours, there to thicken, and convert it self into\nbloud again, before it fall again into the left, without which it would\nnot be fit to serve for the nourishment of the fire which is there.\nWhich is confirm'd, for that its seen, that animals which have no lungs\nhave but one onely concavity in the heart; and that children, who can\nmake no use of them when they are in their mothers bellies, have an\nopening, by which the bloud of the _vena cava_ runs to the left\nconcavity of the heart, and a conduit by which it comes from the\narterious vein into the great artery without passing the lungs.\n\nNext, How would the concoction be made in the stomach, unlesse the heart\nsent heat by the arteries, and therewithall some of the most fluid parts\nof the bloud, which help to dissolve the meat receiv'd therein? and is\nnot the act which converts the juice of these meats into bloud easie to\nbe known, if we consider, that it is distill'd by passing and repassing\nthe heart, perhaps more then one or two hundred times a day? And what\nneed we ought else to explain the nutrition and the production of divers\nhumours which are in the body, but to say, that the force wherewith the\nbloud in rarifying it self, passeth from the heart towards the\nextremities or the arteries, causeth some of its parts to stay amongst\nthose of the members where they are, and there take the place of some\nothers, which they drive from thence? And that according to the\nsituation, or the figure, or the smalnesse of the pores which they\nmeet, some arrive sooner in one place then others. In the same manner\nas we may have seen in severall sieves, which being diversly pierc'd,\nserve to sever divers grains one from the other. And briefly, that which\nis most remarkable herein, is the generation of the animal spirits,\nwhich are as a most subtil wind, or rather, as a most pure and lively\nflame, which continually rising in great abundance from the heart to the\nbrain, dischargeth it self thence by the nerves into the muscles, and\ngives motion to all the members; without imagining any other reason\nwhich might cause these parts of the bloud, which being most mov'd, and\nthe most penetrating, are the most fit to form these spirits, tend\nrather towards the brain, then to any other part. Save onely that the\narteries which carry them thither, are those which come from the heart\nin the most direct line of all: And that according to the rules of the\nMechanicks, which are the same with those of Nature, when divers things\ntogether strive to move one way, where there is not room enough for all;\nso those parts of bloud which issue from the left concavity of the heart\ntend towards the brain, the weaker and less agitated are expell'd by the\nstronger, who by that means arrive there alone.\n\nI had particularly enough expounded all these things in a Treatise which\nI formerly had design'd to publish: In pursuit whereof, I had therein\nshewed what ought to be the fabrick of the nerves and muscles of an\nhumane body, to cause those animall spirits which were in them, to have\nthe power to move those members. As we see that heads a while after they\nare cut off, yet move of themselves, and bite the ground, although they\nare not then animated. What changes ought to be made in the brain to\ncause waking, sleeping, and dreaming: how light, sounds, smels, tasts,\nheat, and all other qualities of exteriour objects, might imprint\nseverall _Ideas_ by means of the senses. How hunger and thirst, and the\nother interiour passions might also send theirs thither. What ought to\nbe taken therein for common sense, where these _Ideas_ are received; for\nmemory which preserves them; and for fancy, which can diversly change\nthem, and form new ones of them; and by the same means, distributing the\nanimal spirits into the muscles, make the members of the body move in so\nmany severall fashions, and as fitly to those objects which present\nthemselves to its senses; and to the interiour passions which are in\nthem, as ours may move themselves without the consent of the Wil. Which\nwil seem nothing strange to those, who knowing how many _Automatas_ or\nmoving Machines the industry of men can make, imploying but very few\npieces, in comparison of the great abundance of bones, muscles, nerves,\narteries, veins, and all the other parts which are in the body of every\nAnimal, will consider this body as a fabrick, which having been made by\nthe hands of God, is incomparably better ordered, and hath more\nadmirable motions in it then any of those which can be invented by men.\nAnd herein I particularly insisted, to make it appear, that if there\nwere such Machines which had organs, and the exteriour figure of an Ape,\nor of any other unreasonable creature, we should finde no means of\nknowing them not to be altogether of the same nature as those Animals:\nwhereas, if there were any which resembled our bodies, and imitated our\nactions as much as morally it were possible, we should always have two\nmost certain ways to know, that for all that they were not reall men:\nThe first of which is, that they could never have the use of speech, nor\nof other signes in framing it, as we have, to declare our thoughts to\nothers: for we may well conceive, that a Machine may be so made, that it\nmay utter words, and even some proper to the corporal actions, which\nmay cause some change in its organs; as if we touch it in some part, and\nit should ask what we would say; or so as it might cry out that one\nhurts it, and the like: but not that they can diversifie them to answer\nsensibly to all what shall be spoken in its presence, as the dullest men\nmay do. And the second is, That although they did divers things aswel,\nor perhaps better, then any of us, they must infallibly fail in some\nothers, whereby we might discover that they act not with knowledge, but\nonely by the disposition of their organs: for whereas Reason is an\nuniversal instrument which may serve in all kinde of encounters, these\norgans have need of some particular disposition for every particular\naction: whence it is, that its morally impossible for one Machine to\nhave severall organs enough to make it move in all the occurrences of\nthis life, in the same manner as our Reason makes us move. Now by these\ntwo means we may also know the difference which is between Men and\nBeasts: For 'tis a very remarkable thing, that there are no men so dull\nand so stupid, without excepting those who are out of their wits, but\nare capable to rank severall words together, and of them to compose a\nDiscourse, by which they make known their thoughts: and that on the\ncontrary, there is no other creature, how perfect or happily soever\nbrought forth, which can do the like. The which happens, not because\nthey want organs; for we know, that Pyes and Parrots can utter words\neven as we can, and yet cannot speak like us; that is to say, with\nevidence that they think what they say. Whereas Men, being born deaf and\ndumb, and deprived of those organs which seem to make others speak, as\nmuch or more then beasts, usually invent of themselves to be understood\nby those, who commonly being with them, have the leisure to learn their\nexpressions. And this not onely witnesseth, that Beasts have lesse\nreason than men, but that they have none at all. For we see there needs\nnot much to learn to speak: and forasmuch as we observe inequality\namongst Beasts of the same kind, aswell as amongst men, and that some\nare more easily managed then others; 'tis not to be believed, but that\nan Ape or a Parrot which were the most perfect of its kinde, should\ntherein equall the most stupid child, or at least a child of a\ndistracted brain, if their souls were not of a nature wholly different\nfrom ours. And we ought not to confound words with naturall motions,\nwhich witness passions, and may be imitated by Machines aswell as by\nAnimals; nor think (as some of the Ancients) that beasts speak, although\nwe do not understand their language: for if it were true, since they\nhave divers organs which relate to ours, they could aswell make\nthemselves understood by us, as by their like. Its likewise very\nremarkable that although there are divers creatures which express more\nindustry then we in some one of their actions; yet we may well perceive,\nthat the same shew none at all in many others: So that what they do\nbetter then we, proves not at all that they have reason; for by that\nreckoning they would have more then any of us, and would do better in\nall other things; but rather, that they have none at all, and that its\nNature onely which works in them according to the disposition of their\norgans. As wee see a Clock, which is onely composed of wheels and\nsprings, can reckon the hours, and measure the times more exactly then\nwe can with all our prudence.\n\nAfter this I had described the reasonable Soul, and made it appear, that\nit could no way be drawn from the power of the Matter, as other things\nwhereof I had spoken; but that it ought to have been expresly created:\nAnd how it suffiseth not for it to be lodg'd in our humane body as a\nPilot in his ship, to move its members onely; but also that its\nnecessary it be joyned and united more strongly therewith to have\nthoughts and appetites like ours, and so make a reall man.\n\nI have here dilated my self a little on the subject of the Soul, by\nreason 'tis of most importance; for, next the errour of those who deny\nGod, which I think I have already sufficiently confuted, there is none\nwhich sooner estrangeth feeble minds from the right way of vertue, then\nto imagine that the soul of beasts is of the same nature as ours, and\nthat consequently we have nothing to fear nor hope after this life, no\nmore then flies or ants. Whereas, when we know how different they are,\nwe comprehend much better the reasons which prove that ours is of a\nnature wholly independing from the body, and consequently that it is not\nsubject to die with it. And that when we see no other cause which\ndestroys it, we are naturally thence moved to judge that it's immortall.\n\n\n\n\nPART. VI.\n\n\nIts now three years since I ended the Treatise which contains all these\nthings, and that I began to review it, to send it afterwards to the\nPresse, when I understood, that persons to whom I submit, and whose\nauthority can no lesse command my actions, then my own Reason doth my\nthoughts, had disapproved an opinion in Physicks, published a little\nbefore by another; of which I will not say that I was, but that indeed I\nhad observed nothing therein, before their censure, which I could have\nimagined prejudiciall either to Religion or the State; or consequently,\nwhich might have hindred me from writing the same, had my Reason\nperswaded mee thereto. And this made me fear, lest in the same manner\nthere might be found some one amongst mine, in which I might have been\nmistaken; notwithstanding the great care I always had to admit no new\nones into my belief, of which I had not most certain demonstrations; and\nnot to write such as might turn to the disadvantage of any body. Which\nwas sufficient to oblige me to change my resolution of publishing them.\nFor although the reasons for which I had first of all taken it, were\nvery strong; yet my inclination, which alwayes made me hate the trade of\nBook-making, presently found me out others enough to excuse my self from\nit. And these reasons on the one and other side are such, that I am not\nonly somewhat concern'd to speak them; but happily the Publick also to\nknow them.\n\nI never did much esteem those things which proceeded from mine own\nbrain; and so long as I have gathered no other fruits from the Method I\nuse, but onely that I have satisfied my self in some difficulties which\nbelong to speculative Sciences, or at least endeavoured to regulate my\nManners by the reasons it taught me, I thought my self not obliged to\nwrite any thing of them. For, as for what concerns Manners, every one\nabounds so much in his own sense, That we may finde as many Reformers as\nheads, were it permitted to others, besides those whom God hath\nestablished as Soveraigns over his people, or at least, to whom he hath\ndispensed grace and zeal enough to be Prophets, to undertake the change\nof any thing therein. And although my Speculations did very much please\nme, I did beleeve that other men also had some, which perhaps pleas'd\nthem more. But as soon as I had acquired some generall notions touching\nnaturall Philosophy, and beginning to prove them in divers particular\ndifficulties, I observed how far they might lead a man, and how far\ndifferent they were from the principles which to this day are in use; I\njudg'd, that I could not keep them hid without highly sinning against\nthe Law, which obligeth us to procure, as much as in us lies, the\ngeneral good of all men. For they made it appear to me, that it was\npossible to attain to points of knowledge, which may be very profitable\nfor this life: and that in stead of this speculative Philosophy which is\ntaught in the Schools, we might finde out a practicall one, by which\nknowing the force and workings of Fire, Water, Air, of the Starrs, of\nthe Heavens, and of all other Bodies which environ us, distinctly, as we\nknow the several trades of our Handicrafts, we might in the same manner\nemploy them to all uses to which they are fit, and so become masters and\npossessours of Nature. Which is not onely to be desired for the\ninvention of very many expedients of Arts, which without trouble might\nmake us enjoy the fruits of the earth, and all the conveniences which\nare to be found therein: But chiefly also for the preservation of\nhealth, which (without doubt) is the first good, and the foundation of\nall other good things in this life. For even the minde depends so much\non the temper and disposition of the organs of the body, that if it be\npossible to finde any way of making men in the generall wiser, and more\nable then formerly they were, I beleeve it ought to be sought in\nPhysick. True it is, that which is now in use contains but few things,\nwhose benefit is very remarkable: But (without any designe of slighting\nof it) I assure my self, there is none, even of their own profession,\nbut will consent, that whatsoever is known therein, is almost nothing in\ncompanion of what remains to be known. And that we might be freed from\nvery many diseases, aswell of the body as of the mind, and even also\nperhaps from the weaknesses of old age, had we but knowledge enough of\ntheir Causes, and of all the Remedies wherewith Nature hath furnished\nus. Now having a designe to employ all my life in the enquiry of so\nnecessary a Science; and having found a way, the following of which me\nthinks might infallibly lead us to it, unless we be hindred by the\nshortness of life, or by defect of experiments. I judg'd that there was\nno better Remedie against those two impediments, but faithfully to\ncommunicate to the publique, all that little I should discover, and to\ninvite all good Wits to endevour to advance farther in contributing\nevery one, according to his inclination and power, to those Experiments\nwhich are to be made, and communicating also to the publique all the\nthings they should learn; so that the last, beginning where the\nprecedent ended, and so joyning the lives and labors of many in one, we\nmight all together advance further then any particular Man could do.\n\nI also observ'd touching Experiments, that they are still so much the\nmore necessary, as we are more advanc'd in knowledg. For in the\nbeginning it's better to use those only which of themselves are\npresented to our senses, and which we cannot be ignorant of, if we do\nbut make the least reflections upon them, then to seek out the rarest\nand most studied ones. The reason whereof is, that those which are\nrarest, doe often deceive, when we seldome know the same of the most\ncommon ones, and that the circumstances on which they depend, are, as it\nwere, always so particular, and so small, that it's very uneasie to\nfinde them out. But the order I observed herein was this. First, I\nendevoured to finde in generall the Principles or first Causes of\nwhatsoever is or may be in the world, without considering any thing for\nthis end, but God alone who created it, or drawing them elsewhere, then\nfrom certain seeds of Truth which naturally are in our souls. After\nthis, I examined what were the first and most ordinary Effects which\nmight be deduced from these Causes: And me thinks that thereby I found\nout Heavens, Starrs, an Earth; and even on the Earth, Water, Air and\nFire, Minerals, and some other such like things, which are the most\ncommon, and the most simple of all, and consequently the most easie to\nbe understood. Afterwards, when I would descend to those which were more\nparticular, there were so many severall ones presented themselves to me,\nthat I did beleeve it impossible for a humane understanding to\ndistinguish the forms and species of Bodies which are on the earth, from\nan infinite number of others which might be there, had it been the will\nof God so to place them: Nor by consequence to apply them to our use,\nunless we set the Effects before the Causes, and make use of divers\nparticular experiments; In relation to which, revolving in my minde all\nthose objects which ever were presented to my senses, I dare boldly say,\nI observed nothing which I could not fitly enough explain by the\nprinciples I had found. But I must also confesse that the power of\nNature is so ample and vast, and these principles are so simple and\ngenerall, that I can observe almost no particular Effect, but that I\npresently know it might be deduced from thence in many severall ways:\nand that commonly my greatest difficulty is to finde in which of these\nways it depends thereon; for I know no other expedient for that, but\nagain to seek some experiments, which may be such, that their event may\nnot be the same, if it be in one of those ways which is to be exprest,\nas if it were in another. In fine, I am gotten so far, That (me thinks)\nI see well enough what course we ought to hold to make the most part of\nthose experiments which may tend to this effect. But I also see they\nare such, and of so great a number, that neither my hands nor my estate\n(though I had a thousand times more then I have) could ever suffice for\nall. So that according as I shall hereafter have conveniency to make\nmore or fewer of them, I shall also advance more or lesse in the\nknowledge of Nature, which I hop'd I should make known by the Treatise\nwhich I had written; and therein so clearly shew the benefit which the\nPublick may receive thereby, that I should oblige all those in general\nwho desire the good of Mankinde; that is to say, all those who are\nindeed vertuous, (and not so seemingly, or by opinion only) aswell to\ncommunicate such experiments as they have already made, as to help me in\nthe enquiry of those which are to be made.\n\nBut since that time, other reasons have made me alter my opinion, and\nthink that I truly ought to continue to write of all those things which\nI judg'd of any importance, according as I should discover the truth of\nthem, and take the same care, as if I were to print them; as well that I\nmight have so much the more occasion throughly to examine them; as\nwithout doubt, we always look more narrowly to what we offer to the\npublick view, then to what we compose onely for our own use: and\noftentimes the same things which seemed true to me when I first\nconceived them, appear'd afterwards false to me, when I was committing\nthem to paper: as also that I might lose no occasion of benefiting the\nPublick, if I were able, and that if my Writings were of any value,\nthose to whose hands they should come after my death, might to make what\nuse of them they think fit.\n\nBut that I ought not any wayes to consent that they should be published\nduring my life; That neither the opposition and controversies, whereto\nperhaps they might be obnoxious, nor even the reputation whatsoever it\nwere, which they might acquire me, might give me any occasion of\nmispending the time I had design'd to employ for my instruction; for\nalthough it be true that every Man is oblig'd to procure, as much as in\nhim lies, the good of others; and that to be profitable to no body, is\nproperly to be good for nothing: Yet it's as true, that our care ought\nto reach beyond the present time; and that it were good to omit those\nthings which might perhaps conduce to the benefit of those who are\nalive, when our designe is, to doe others which shall prove farr more\nadvantagious to our posterity; As indeed I desire it may be known that\nthe little I have learnt hitherto, is almost nothing in comparison of\nwhat I am ignorant of; and I doe not despair to be able to learn: For\nit's even the same with those, who by little and little discover the\ntruth in Learning; as with those who beginning to grow rich, are less\ntroubled to make great purchases, then they were before when they were\npoorer, to make little ones. Or else one may compare them to Generals of\nArmies, whose Forces usually encrease porportionably to their Victories;\nand who have need of more conduct to maintain themselves after the loss\nof a battail, then after the gaining one, to take Towns and Provinces.\nFor to endeavour to overcome all the difficulties and errours which\nhinder us to come to the knowledg of the Truth, is truly to fight\nbattails. And to receive any false opinion touching a generall or\nweighty matter, is as much as to lose one; there is far more dexterity\nrequired to recover our former condition, then to make great progresses\nwhere our Principles are already certain. For my part, if I formerly\nhave discovered some Truths in Learning, as I hope my Discourse will\nmake it appear I have, I may say, they are but the products and\ndependances of five or six principall difficulties which I have\novercome, and which I reckon for so many won Battails on my side.\nNeither will I forbear to say; That I think, It's only necessary for me\nto win two or three more such, wholly to perfect my design. And that I\nam not so old, but according to the ordinary course of Nature, I may\nhave time enough to effect it. But I beleeve I am so much the more\nobliged to husband the rest of my time, as I have more hopes to employ\nit well; without doubt, I should have divers occasions of impeding it,\nshould I publish the grounds of my Physicks. For although they are\nalmost all so evident, that to beleeve them, it's needfull onely to\nunderstand them; and that there is none whereof I think my self unable\nto give demonstration. Yet because it's impossible that they should\nagree with all the severall opinions of other men, I foresee I should\noften be diverted by the opposition they would occasion.\n\nIt may be objected, These oppositions might be profitable, as well to\nmake me know my faults, as if any thing of mine were good to make others\nby that means come to a better understanding thereof; and as many may\nsee more then one man, beginning from this time to make use of my\ngrounds, they might also help me with their invention. But although I\nknow my self extremely subject to fail, and do never almost trust my\nfirst thoughts; yet the experience I have of the objections which may be\nmade unto me, hinder me from hoping for any profit from them; For I have\noften tried the judgments as well of those whom I esteem'd my friends,\nas of others whom I thought indifferent, and even also of some, whose\nmalignity and envie did sufficiently discover what the affection of my\nfriends might hide. But it seldom happened that any thing was objected\nagainst me, which I had not altogether foreseen, unless it were very\nremote from my Subject: So that I never almost met with any Censurer of\nmy opinions, that seemed unto me either less rigorous, or less equitable\nthen my self. Neither did I ever observe, that by the disputations\npracticed in the Schools any Truth which was formerly unknown, was ever\ndiscovered. For whilest every one seeks to overcome, men strive more to\nmaintain probabilities, then to weigh the reasons on both sides; and\nthose who for a long time have been good Advocates, are not therefore\nthe better Judges afterwards.\n\nAs for the benefit which others may receive from the communication of my\nthoughts, it cannot also be very great, forasmuch as I have not yet\nperfected them, but that it is necessary to add many things thereunto,\nbefore a usefull application can be made of them. And I think I may say\nwithout vanity, That if there be any one capable thereof, it must be my\nself, rather then any other. Not but that there may be divers wits in\nthe world incomparably better then mine; but because men cannot so well\nconceive a thing and make it their own, when they learn it of another,\nas when they invent it themselves: which is so true in this Subject,\nthat although I have often explain'd some of my opinions to very\nunderstanding men, and who, whilest I spake to them, seem'd very\ndistinctly to conceive them; yet when they repeated them, I observ'd,\nthat they chang'd them almost always in such a manner, that I could no\nlonger own them for mine. Upon which occasion, I shall gladly here\ndesire those who come after me, never to beleeve those things which may\nbe delivered to them for mine, when I have not published them my self.\nAnd I do not at all wonder at the extravagancies which are attributed to\nall those ancient Philosophers, whose Writings we have not; neither do I\nthereby judge, that their thoughts were very irrationall, seeing they\nwere the best Wits of their time; but onely that they have been ill\nconvey'd to us: as it appears also, that never any of their followers\nsurpass'd them. And I assure my self, that the most passionate of those,\nwho now follow _Aristotle_, would beleeve himself happy, had he but as\nmuch knowledge of Nature as he had, although it were on condition that\nhe never might have more: They are like the ivie, which seeks to climb\nno higher then the trees which support it, and ever after tends\ndownwards again when it hath attain'd to the height thereof: for, me\nthinks also, that such men sink downwards; that is to say, render\nthemselves in some manner lesse knowing, then if they did abstain from\nstudying; who being not content to know all which is intelligibly set\ndown in their Authour, will besides that, finde out the solution of\ndivers difficulties of which he says nothing, and perhaps never thought\nof them: yet their way of Philosophy is very fit for those who have but\nmean capacities: For the obscurity of the distinctions and principles\nwhich they use causeth them to speak of all things as boldly, as if they\nknew them, and maintain all which they say, against the most subtill and\nmost able; so that there is no means left to convince them. Wherein they\nseem like to a blinde man, who, to fight without disadvantage against\none that sees, should challenge him down into the bottom of a very dark\ncellar: And I may say, that it is these mens interest, that I should\nabstain from publishing the principles of the Philosophy I use, for\nbeing most simple and most evident, as they are, I should even do the\nsame in publishing of them, as if I opened some windows, to let the day\ninto this cellar, into which they go down to fight. But even the best\nWits have no reason to wish for the knowledge of them: for if they will\nbe able to speak of all things, and acquire the reputation of being\nlearned, they will easily attain to it by contenting themselves with\nprobability, which without much trouble may be found in all kinde of\nmatters; then in seeking the Truth, which discovers it self but by\nlittle and little, in some few things; and which, when we are to speak\nof others, oblige us freely to confesse our ignorance of them. But if\nthey prefer the knowledge of some few truths to the vanity of seeming to\nbe ignorant of nothing, as without doubt they ought to do, and will\nundertake a designe like mine, I need not tell them any more for this\npurpose, but what I have already said in this Discourse: For if they\nhave a capacity to advance farther then I have done, they may with\ngreater consequence finde out of themselves whatsoever I think I have\nfound; Forasmuch as having never examined any thing but by order, it's\ncertain, that what remains yet for me to discover, is in it self more\ndifficult and more hid, then what I have already here before met with;\nand they would receive much less satisfaction in learning it from me,\nthen from themselves. Besides that, the habit which they would get by\nseeking first of all the easie things, and passing by degrees to others\nmore difficult, will be more usefull to them, then all my instructions.\nAs I for my part am perswaded, that had I been taught from my youth all\nthe Truths whose demonstrations I have discovered since, and had taken\nno pains to learn them, perhaps I should never have known any other, or\nat least, I should never have acquired that habit, and that faculty\nwhich I think I have, still to finde out new ones, as I apply my self to\nthe search of them. And in a word, if there be in the world any work\nwhich cannot be so well ended by any other, as by the same who began it,\nit's that which I am now about.\n\nIt's true, That one man will not be sufficient to make all the\nexperiments which may conduce thereunto: But withall, he cannot\nprofitably imploy other hands then his own, unlesse it be those of\nArtists, or others whom he hires, and whom the hope of profit (which is\na very powerfull motive) might cause exactly to do all those things he\nshould appoint them: For as for voluntary persons, who by curiosity or a\ndesire to learn, would perhaps offer themselves to his help, besides\nthat commonly they promise more then they perform, and make onely fair\npropositions, whereof none ever succeeds, they would infallibly be paid\nby the solution of some difficulties, or at least by complements and\nunprofitable entertainments, which could not cost him so little of his\ntime, but he would be a loser thereby. And for the Experiments which\nothers have already made, although they would even communicate them to\nhim (which those who call them Secrets would never do,) they are for\nthe most part composed of so many circumstances, or superfluous\ningredients, that it would be very hard for him to decypher the truth of\nthem: Besides, he would find them all so ill exprest, or else so false,\nby reason that those who made them have laboured to make them appear\nconformable to their principles; that if there were any which served\ntheir turn, they could not at least be worth the while which must be\nimployed in the choice of them. So that, if there were any in the world\nthat were certainly known to be capable of finding out the greatest\nthings, and the most profitable for the Publick which could be, and that\nother men would therefore labour alwayes to assist him to accomplish his\nDesignes; I do not conceive that they could do more for him, then\nfurnish the expence of the experiments whereof he stood in need; and\nbesides, take care only that he may not be by any body hindred of his\ntime. But besides that, I do not presume so much of my Self, as to\npromise any thing extraordinary, neither do I feed my self with such\nvain hopes, as to imagine that the Publick should much interesse it self\nin my designes; I have not so base a minde, as to accept of any favour\nwhatsoever, which might be thought I had not deserved.\n\nAll these considerations joyned together, were the cause three years\nsince why I would not divulge the Treatise I had in hand; and which is\nmore, that I resolved to publish none whilest I lived, which might be so\ngeneral, as that the Grounds of my Philosophy might be understood\nthereby. But since, there hath been two other reasons have obliged me to\nput forth some particular Essays, and to give the Publick some account\nof my Actions and Designes. The first was, that if I failed therein,\ndivers who knew the intention I formerly had to print some of my\nWritings, might imagine that the causes for which I forbore it, might\nbe more to my disadvantage then they are. For although I do not affect\nglory in excess; or even, (if I may so speak) that I hate it, as far as\nI judge it contrary to my rest, which I esteem above all things: Yet\nalso did I never seek to hide my actions as crimes, neither have I been\nvery wary to keep my self unknown; as well because I thought I might\nwrong my self, as that it might in some manner disquiet me, which would\nagain have been contrary to the perfect repose of my minde which I seek.\nAnd because having alwayes kept my self indifferent, caring not whether\nI were known or no, I could not chuse but get some kinde of reputation,\nI thought that I ought to do my best to hinder it at least from being\nill. The other reason which obliged me to write this, is, that observing\nevery day more and more the designe I have to instruct my self, retarded\nby reason of an infinite number of experiments which are needful to me,\nand which its impossible for me to make without the help of others;\nalthough I do not so much flatter my self, as to hope that the Publick,\nshares much in my concernments; yet will I not also be so much wanting\nto my self, as to give any cause to those who shall survive me, to\nreproach this, one day to me, That I could have left them divers things\nfar beyond what I have done, had I not too much neglected to make them\nunderstand wherein they might contribute to my designe.\n\nAnd I thought it easie for me to choose some matters, which being not\nsubject to many Controversies, nor obliging me to declare any more of my\nPrinciples then I would willingly, would neverthelesse expresse clearly\nenough, what my abilities or defects are in the Sciences. Wherein I\ncannot say whether I have succeeded or no; neither will I prevent the\njudgment of any man by speaking of my own Writings: but I should be\nglad they might be examin'd; and to that end I beseech all those who\nhave any objections to make, to take the pains to send them to my\nStationer, that I being advertised by him, may endeavour at the same\ntime to adjoyn my Answer thereunto: and by that means, the Reader seeing\nboth the one and the other, may the more easily judge of the Truth. For\nI promise, that I will never make any long Answers, but only very freely\nconfesse my own faults, if I find them; or if I cannot discover them,\nplainly say what I shal think requisite in defence of what I have writ,\nwithout adding the explanation of any new matter, that I may not\nendlesly engage my self out of one into another.\n\nNow if there be any whereof I have spoken in the beginning, of the\nOpticks and of the Meteors, which at first jarr, by reason that I call\nthem Suppositions, and that I seem not willing to prove them; let a man\nhave but the patience to read the whole attentively, and I hope he will\nrest satisfied: For (me thinks) the reasons follow each other so\nclosely, that as the later are demonstrated by the former, which are\ntheir Causes; the former are reciprocally proved by the later, which are\ntheir Effects. And no man can imagine that I herein commit the fault\nwhich the Logicians call a _Circle_; for experience rendring the\ngreatest part of these effects most certain, the causes whence I deduce\nthem serve not so much to prove, as to explain them; but on the\ncontrary, they are those which are proved by them. Neither named I them\nSuppositions, that it might be known that I conceive my self able to\ndeduce them from those first Truths which I have before discovered: But\nthat I would not expresly do it to crosse certain spirits, who imagine\nthat they know in a day al what another may have thought in twenty\nyeers, as soon as he hath told them but two or three words; and who are\nso much the more subject to erre, and less capable of the Truth, (as\nthey are more quick and penetrating) from taking occasion of erecting\nsome extravagant Philosophy on what they may beleeve to be my\nPrinciples, and lest the fault should be attributed to me. For as for\nthose opinions which are wholly mine, I excuse them not as being new,\nbecause that if the reasons of them be seriously considered, I assure my\nself, they will be found so plain, and so agreeable to common sense,\nthat they will seem less extraordinary and strange then any other which\nmay be held on the same Subjects. Neither do I boast that I am the first\nInventor of any of them; but of this indeed, that I never admitted any\nof them, neither because they had, or had not been said by others, but\nonly because Reason perswaded me to them.\n\nIf Mechanicks cannot so soon put in practise the Invention which is set\nforth in the Opticks, I beleeve that therefore men ought not to condemn\nit; forasmuch as skill and practice are necessary for the making and\ncompleating the Machines I have described; so that no circumstance\nshould be wanting. I should no less wonder if they should succeed at\nfirst triall, then if a man should learn in a day to play excellently\nwell on a Lute, by having an exact piece set before him. And if I write\nin French, which is the language of my Country, rather then in Latin,\nwhich is that of my Tutors, 'tis because I hope such who use their meer\nnaturall reason, wil better judge of my opinions, then those who only\nbeleeve in old Books. And for those who joyn a right understanding with\nstudy, (who I only wish for my Judges) I assure my self, they will not\nbe so partiall to the Latin, as to refuse to read my reasons because I\nexpresse them in a vulgar tongue.\n\nTo conclude, I will not speak here in particular of the progresse I\nhoped to make hereafter in Learning; Nor engage my self by any promise\nto the Publick, which I am not certain to perform. But I shall onely\nsay, That I am resolved to employ the remainder of my life in no other\nthing but the study to acquire some such knowledge of Nature as may\nfurnish us with more certain rules in Physick then we hitherto have had:\nAnd that my inclination drives me so strongly from all other kind of\ndesignes, chiefly from those which cannot be profitable to any, but by\nprejudicing others; that if any occasion obliged me to spend my time\ntherein, I should beleeve I should never succeed therein: which I here\ndeclare, though I well know it conduceth not to make me considerable in\nthe world; neither is it my ambition to be so. And I shall esteem my\nself always more obliged to those by whose favour I shal without\ndisturbance enjoy my ease, then to them who should proffer me the most\nhonourable imployment of the earth.\n\nFINIS.\n\n  +--------------------------------------------------------------+\n  |                Transcriber's Notes and Errata                |\n  |                                                              |\n  | One instance each of \"what-ever\" and \"whatever\" were found   |\n  | in the orignal.                                              |\n  |                                                              |\n  | The following typographical errors were corrected:           |\n  |                                                              |\n  |                |Error         |Correction   |                |\n  |                |              |             |                |\n  |                |or            |our          |                |\n  |                |Phpsick       |Physick      |                |\n  |                |moreworthy    |more worthy  |                |\n  |                |examinanation |examination  |                |\n  |                |mnner         |manner       |                |\n  |                |propable      |probable     |                |\n  |                |rape          |grape        |                |\n  |                |veuture       |venture      |                |\n  |                |circumstrance |circumstance |                |\n  +--------------------------------------------------------------+","title":"A Discourse of a Method for the Well Guiding of Reason: and the Discovery of Truth in the Sciences","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":22068}