A Treatise concerning Enthusiasm

A TREATISE CONCERNING ENTHƲSIASME, As it is an Effect of Nature: but is miſtaken by many for either Divine Inſpiration, or Diabolical Poſſeſsion.

By Meric Caſaubon, D.D.

LONDON, Printed by R. D. and are to be ſold by Tho. Johnſon, at the Golden Key in S. Paul's Church-yard. 1655.

To the READER.

I Have been preſent ſometimes at ſome diſcourſes, and have lighted alſo upon ſome relations, in print, concerning Viſions and Revelations, that have happened unto ſome. I did not apprehend them alwaies, as they ſeemed unto me to do, that were partakers with me of the ſame whether relations, or diſcourſes. But neither was I ſo confident, that I was in the right, and they in the wrong, as peremptorily to conclude any thing in mine own thoughts: much leſs ſo confident, that I could think it needfull, to oppoſe by words and arguments, what was believed by others, different from mine own opinion. For how indeed ſhould I be confident, that I was in the right, without the diligent examination of ſeverall circumſtances, unknown unto me, and as little perchance known unto them that were of another opinion? without which to conclude of particular caſes, by general Rules and Maximes; I knew full well, to be a principall cauſe of moſt ſtrifes and confuſions, that either diſturb the brains, or divide the hearts of men in this world.

But even when more confident, upon good and perfect knowledge of all circumſtances; yet where no manifeſt danger is, either of impiety towards God, or breach of peace, whether publick or private, among men: I never did think my ſelf bound to oppoſe; no more then I did think that my oppoſitiō would be to much purpoſe. I am not of the opinion of ſome ancient Philoſophers, that man is the meaſure of all things, and therefore that whatever appeareth true unto any, is in it ſelf as it appeareth unto him: neither do I think ſo meanly of any truth, that can be reduced to any reality, whether ſenſible or unſenſible; as to think either Lands, or Jewels, too dear a price for it. However, as all mens brains are not of one temper, naturally; nor all men equally improved by ſtudy; nor all led by one intereſt: ſo is it, I think, as impoſsible, by any art, or reaſon of man, to reduce all men to one belief. I cannot think that the warres of the Giants againſt the Gods, and their attempt (feigned by the Poets,) of ſcaling Heaven by heaping high Mountains upon one another; can by any ſober man be conceived either more ridiculous, or impoſsible, then the project of ſome men (for which alſo ſome books have been written lately:) doth appear unto me, of making all men wiſe. I think my ſelf bound to judge of others as charitably as may be: but though I would, yet I cannot conceive, how any man can, really, promiſe himſelf ſo much, or make boaſt of it unto others; but he muſt think himſelf either more good, or more wiſe, then Almighty God. Or if he pretend to act by God, as his inſtrument, or Deputie: yet even ſo, more wiſe, or more ſucceſsfull then Chriſt, the Son of God: VVho though he was come into the world, as to ſuffer for men, ſo to teach men wiſdome, without which his ſufferings would do them no good; and might have made uſe of his Omnipotency, had he pleaſed, to transforme all men, even the dulleſt of men, in a moment of time, to make them more capable of his inſtructions: yet thought that way beſt that he choſe; and after many Miracles, by himſelf and his Apoſtles; and his heavenly Doctrine, conteined in the Goſpels, and the writings of his ſaid Apoſtles; left many men to themſelves as before; and was content the world ſhould continue (which it hath already done 1653 yeares ſince) for a while▪ though it conſiſted of men, more bad, then good; more fools, then wiſe. But this is too much, to them that will not be the better for it: and I do not deſire to make ſport unto others.

Since my forced retirement into this country life; among thoſe few books which have had the luck to ſtick to me, not many yeares ſince I lighted upon one, whereof I can give very little account, if I ſhould be put to it, how I came by it, or it to me; but found it among the reſt; the title whereof is, The life of Siſter Katharine of Jeſus; Nunne of the Order of our Lady, &c. at Paris, 1628. The title did not much invite me to read: but being at very good leiſure at that time, and turning the leaves to ſatisfie my ſelf with a ſuperficiall view; I ſoon obſerved ſomewhat that I thought extraordinary, and further provoked my curioſity. For beſides a long dedication to the Queen of France, made by a Cardinal; I obſerved at the end, the Approbatiōs of ſeverall perſons: of one Biſhop, one Archbiſhop, beſides Sorboniſts, and Doctors of Divinity, no leſſe then four: all theſe approbations, diſtinct and ſeverall; and ſome of them very long, and written with great accurateneſſe both of ſtyle, and matter. I then reſolved to read in good earneſt. But though I had both will and leaſure enough; yea and reſolution too, to read unto the end, before I gave it over: yet was my reading often interrupted with different thoughts and conteſts; which made great impreſsion in my mind. I found the book to be a long contexture of ſeverall ſtrange raptures and enthuſiaſms, that had hapned unto a melancholick, or if you will, a devout Maid.^[1] In this I ſaw no great matter of wonder: Neither could I obſerve much in the relation of the particulars, but what as I conceived, rationally, probable; ſo I might believe, charitably, true. I could obſerve, as I thought, a perpetuall coherence of naturall cauſes, in every particular; which gave me good ſatisfaction. But then that ſuch a judgement ſhould be made, of ſuch an accident, wherein I apprehended ſo little ground of either doubt or wonder; and this judgement, not the judgement of a woman only, the Author, as is pretended, of the whole relation; but of men of ſuch worth and eminency: this in very deed troubled me very much. I did often reaſon with my ſelf, againſt my ſelf: That it was as poſsible, that what I thought reaſon, and nature, might be but my phanſy and opinion; as that what by ſuch, and ſo many, was judged God, and Religion, ſhould be nothing but Nature, and Superſtition: that where the matter was diſputable, and liable to error, it was ſafer to erre with authority, then through ſingularity. Theſe things and the like I objected to my ſelf: but for all this, the further I read, the more I was unſatisfied and diſturbed in mine own thoughts; and could have no reſt, untill I did reſolve, as ſoon as any good opportunity ſhould offer it ſelf, to make it my buſineſſe, ſo farre as I might by beſt inquiſition, throughly to ſatisfie my ſelf.

This opportunitie, after I had acquitted my ſelf, ſo farre as in me lay, of ſome other things, wherein the publick weal of Learning may be more concerned; (whereof I have given an account to my friends:) having offered it ſelf ſome moneths ago, becauſe nothing elſe did then offer it ſelf, that I thought more needfull; I thank God, I have ſatisfied my ſelf. I have, ſo farre as by private inquiſition I could: but then ſhall I think my ſelf fully ſatisfied, if after the publication of what I have done to that end, I ſhall find it ſatisfactory unto others alſo, that can judge of theſe things, and are not engaged; as well as unto my ſelf. However, it is a ſubject of that conſequence, as will be ſhewed in the Preface; and, as all confeſſe, liable to ſo much illuſion; that no reader, that loveth truth more then appearances, though he do not acknowledge himſelf ſatisfied with what I have written; can have juſt cauſe nevertheleſſe, to repent that this occaſion hath been given him by me, to ſatisfie himſelf more fully. It may concern him, he knows not how ſoon. He may deceive himſelf; he may be deceived by others; if he be not armed againſt it. Pro Junone nubem, to embrace a Cloud, or a Fogge for a Deitie; it is done by many, but it is a foul miſtake: let him take heed of it.

The Contents of the ſeveral Chapters contained in this Treatiſe.

CHAP. I. Of Enthuſiaſme in general.

VArro's opinion, that Heroick men ſhould believe themſelves, though falſely, to be deſcended of the Gods, &c. noted and rejected: in Alexander the Great his Caſe particularly. ¶ The conſequence of this knowledge or Diſquiſition. Politick pretenſions to Enthuſiaſme, or Divine Inſpiration, very uſual in all Ages: But miſtaken, through ignorance of natural cauſes, (our only Subject and aime in this Treatiſe) as more frequent, ſo more dangerous. Enthuſiaſtick times and tempers noted by ancient Authors. In thoſe times the Eleuſinia▪ Bacchanalia, and other Myſteries hatched. The abomination of thoſe Myſteries, though pretending to great holineſſe and piety. Ancient Theologues and Poets, pretending to Divine Inſpiration, the authors and abettors of Idolatry. Hereſies among Chriſtians through pretended inſpirations. Mahometiſme. ¶ The word Enthuſiaſme, what it implies properly. The diviſion of Enthuſiaſme according to Plato and Plutarch. Plutarch's Definition. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in Plutarch; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in Actuarius. A difficult paſſage out of The Phyſical Definitions, attributed to Galen, concerning Enthuſiaſme, explained and amended. Our Definition (or deſcription) and diviſion of Enthuſiaſme, into nine ſeveral Kinds, or Species. Theophraſtus his Treatiſe concerning Enthuſiaſme, whether extant. Meurſius his conjecture about the Title rejected.

CHAP. II. Of Divinatory Enthuſiaſme.

All true Divination moſt properly from God. Opinions of Heathens about the cauſes of Divination. Plutarch corrected. Divination in a more general ſenſe. Some kinds of it merely natural, or phyſical. Our question here of Enthuſiaſtick Divination, particularly, whether any ſuch from Natural Cauſes. But firſt of all, whether any ſuch among Heathens anciently, truly and really. The grounds of the contrary opinion diſcovered and refuted. Pythones, or Pythonici, in the Scriptures and ancient Hiſtories. Pomponatius and Tho. Leonicus noted. The Queſtion rightly ſtated. Firſt of all, a concurrence of natural cauſes in ſome caſes generally granted. Some Enthuſiaſts not onely foretell things future, but alſo ſpeak ſtrange Languages, through mere natural diſtemper, according to the opinion of ſome Phyſicians. But the contrary more probable, and why. That ſome things of like nature, (in ſome reſpects,) as Enthuſiaſtick Divination, and not leſſe to be wondered at, are certainly known to proceed from cauſes that are natural, though unknown unto men: and ſome things alſo, though from cauſes that are known, not leſſe wonderfull in their nature. Instances in both kinds. The power of ſmelling in Dogs. An Example out of an Author of good credit, of a man, who being blind, was a guide unto many that had eyes, by his ſmell only, through vast Deſerts. The power and nature of the Memory in man, how incomprehenſible, and how much admired by both Divines and Philoſophers. The invention of conveying ſecret thoughts at any diſtance, whether of place or of time, by writing, how admirable a thing. Their opinion that fetch Divination from the nature of the Intellectus agens, in every man. The opinion of Ariſtotle in his Problems, (ſome queſtion about the Author;) of the effects of atra bilis or melancholy, a probable ground of ſome naturall divination. But after ſome general grounds and propoſitions, the continual [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or emanations of bodies, according to Ariſtotle and others, and the parturitions of cauſes, (or foregoing natural ſignes of ſtrange events and alterations,) diſcernable to ſome tempers, as alſo the concatenation of natural Cauſes, according to the Stoicks, a more probable ground. The Divination of dying men. A notable obſervation of Aretaeus, an ancient Greek Phyſician, to this purpoſe. Enthuſiaſme by vaſt proſpects, and other natural objects.

CHAP. III. Of Contemplative and Philoſophicall Enthuſiaſme.

Contemplation; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: the happineſſe of God, (and thence the Greek word,) according to Ariſtotle: The chiefeſt pleaſure of man in this life, according to divers of the Epicurean Sect. Lucretius the Poet, and Hippocrates the firſt of Phyſicians, their teſtimonies. Plato and Philo Jud. their Philoſophy. ¶ The dependance of external Senſes on the Mind: their operation ſuſpended by the intention of it; as particularly, that of Feeling: and the uſefulneſſe of this knowledge, for the preſervation of publick peace, and of whole Kingdomes, ſhewed by a notable inſtance out of Thuanus. Some cautions inſerted to prevent (in that which follows) offenſe by miſtake. ¶ Ecſtaſis; the word how uſed by the Ancients: how by later writers. The words of S. Mark 3. v. 21. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], for they ſaid, &c. vindicated from a wrong and offenſive interpretation. Ecſtaſis taken for a totall ſuſpenſion of all ſenſitive powers, the effect ſometimes of Contemplation, and earnest intention of the mind. Enthuſiaſtick Deluſions incidental to natural Ecſtaſies, and bodily diſtempers, proved by many examples, both old (out of Tertullian, &c.) and late; one very late, in Suſſex. This matter how ſubject to be miſtaken, even by men judicious otherwiſe, through ignorance of natural cauſes. One notable inſtance of it. The power of the phaenſie in Ecſtaſies, and other diſtempers of body, againſt Reaſon, and perfect (but in ſome one object) Ʋnderſtanding; argued by reaſon, and proved by many examples and inſtances. A ſure way to avoid the danger of Enthuſiaſtick Illuſions, out of Tertullian, Not to ſeek after New Lights, &c. A caveat concerning the caſe of Witches: their actions real, not imaginary. ¶ Several queſtions propoſed, and fully diſcuſſed by reaſons and authorities. Firſt, Whether a Voluntary Ecſtaſie be a thing poſſible in nature. Giraldus Cambrenſis, and his Enthuſiaſts: Merlins. Turkiſh Enthuſiaſts. The Meſſaliani, or Prayers, ſo called anciently. A conſideration concerning the nature of their diſtemper, whether contagious or no. Secondly, Whether in Natural, or Supernatural and Diabolical Ecſtaſies there be, or may be (without a Miracle) a real ſeparation of the Soul from the Body. Thirdly and laſtly, (after a diſtinction of ſight internal, and external,) Whether long Contemplation and Philoſophy may transform a man into an Angelical nature, and unite him unto God in an extraordinary manner, by communion of ſubſtance, &c. ¶That Myſtical Theology, highly commended by ſome Chriſtians as the moſt perfect way, ſhewed to be the invention of Heathen Philoſophers. Dionyſius Areopagita, the firſt broacher of it amongſt Chriſtians, by ſome new arguments out of Theophraſtus, Syneſius, &c. further evinced a Counterfeit. ¶A Relation concerning Viſions and Enthuſiaſms that happened to a Nun in France ſome years ago, examined: and thoſe Viſions and Revelations, against the judgement of divers eminent men of France, maintained to be the effects of nature merely. Immoderate voluntary Pennances and bodily Chaſtiſements no certain argument of true Mortification and Piety. ¶ Maximus the Monk and Martyr his writings: Eunapius Of the life of Philoſophers: paſſages out of them vindicated from wrong tranſlations. The Author of the New Method: and the beginnings of Mahometiſme.

CHAP. IIII. Of Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme.

The nature and cauſes of Speech, a curious and uſefull ſpeculation: by the perfect knowledge whereof the deaf and dumb (ſo naturally) may be taught not only to underſtand whatſoever is ſpoken by others; as ſome (upon credible information) have done in England; but alſo to ſpeak and to diſcourſe, as one very lately, a Noble-man, in Spain. A Spaniſh book teaching that Art. Another way to teach the dumb to ſpeak, out of Valeſius. A dumb man, that could expreſs himſelf, and underſtand others perfectly, by writing. Another uſe of this knowledge, conceited, but not affirmed. ¶ The dependance of reaſon, and ſpeech; both, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in Greek. Rhetorick, what it is; of what uſe; and whether abſolutely neceſſary. The matter and method of this Chapter, in 4 propoſitions or particulars. I. That divers ancient Orators did really apprehend themſelves inſpired, &c. Enthuſiaſm in point of ſpeech, uſed by ſome Ancients metaphorically, or figuratively: by ſome others, properly, for divine inſpiration. Longinus, Ariſtides, Apollonius in Philoſtratus, Quintilian, upon this ſubject. Seneca concerning the cauſes of high conceptions and expreſſions, inconſtant to himſelf. His violent both ſtyle (in ſome places,) and ſpirit, noted. True valour and magnanimity, in meekneſs, according to Ariſtotle. A place of Plato conſidered of. Prov. 16.1. The preparations, &c. II. That Rhetorick, or good language hath often had enthuſiaſtick operation upon others. Demagogie, anciently, how powerfull: the Athenians, particularly, blinded and bewitched by it. Acts 17.21. concerning the Athenians, illuſtrated. Philoſophicall Diſcourſes, what made them powerfull. Ancient Orators; Demoſthenes and Cicero: their language both read, and heard, how strangely amazing and raviſhing; proved by ſome notable inſtances. The Sophiſtae of thoſe times, whoſe profeſſion was, to amaze men both by ſet, and extemporary ſpeeches. Gorgias the firſt of that profeſſion, how much admired, and almoſt adored. Their uſuall Arguments. Their extemporary facultie, or abilitie publickly and ſuddainly to diſcourſe of any ſubject that ſhould be propoſed unto them, proved by divers inſtances. Calliſthenes. The Tarſenſes of Aſia. Adoleſcens ſine controverſia diſertus; in Aulus Gellius. This extemporary kind of ſpeaking (by many now fondly deemed inſpiration) why not ſo frequent in our dayes: ſome reaſons given for it. The learning of ſeverall tongues, &c. Syneſius his way of extemporary ſpeaking, much more ſtrange, and almoſt incredible, Petavius the Jeſuite, his tranſlation of Syneſius very faulty; and ſome examples of his miſtakes. III. Whence that apprehenſion of divine inſpiration. Ardor, Impetus, in Latine Authors: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in Greek Authors. God himſelf, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], according to Hippocrates. Not Heathens only, but Ben Maimon, and Philo Judaeus, both learned Jewes, miſtaken in this matter. An obſervation of Ribera the Jeſuite conſidered of. Spiritus in Latine Poets: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or Zeal, in the N. T. diverſly taken, and diverſly (which we think ſhould not be;) tranſlated. IV. What cauſes, truly naturall, of thoſe wonderfull operations, miſtaken by many for divine and ſupernaturall. That ſome other cauſe beſides that which is generally apprehended, muſt be ſought or ſuppoſed, proved by the example of ſome notoriouſly wicked, as Nero, Dionyſius, &c. who nevertheleſſe took great pleaſure in the exhortations of Philoſophers, perſwading to goodneſſe and ſobriety. As alſo by the example of poor Mechanicks, who neglected their trade, to pleaſe their ears. Paſſages out of Seneca and Plinius ſecundus, to that purpoſe. Firſt then, The power and pleaſure of Muſick, in good language and elocution, proved by ſundrie authorities, and by arguments taken from the very nature of ſpeech. Ezek. 33.31. &c. Muſonius. The [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or artificiall collocation of words in ſpeech, a great myſtery of Eloquence. Dionyſ. Halicarn. his Treatiſe of that ſubject; and divers others. Contrarie faculties working the ſame effect. A paſſage of Plutarch conſidered of. Somewhat of the nature of letters and ſyllables, and who have written of them. Rhythmus, in matter of proſe or ſpeech, what it is. The Organs of ſpeech; and Greg. Nyſſen interpreted. Secondly, The pleaſure of the eyes in good language. The nature of Metaphors and Allegories. Ariſtotle, Cicero, Plutarch, (corrected by the way,) and ſome others, concerning them. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], what kind of figure, and how powerfull. Homer and Virgil, their proper praiſe, and incomparable excellency. Opus emblematicum, vermiculatum, &c. The excellency of that Art, and how imitated in the collocation of words. Dionyſ. Halicarn. and Hadrianus the Cardinall, their teſtimony concerning the raviſhing power of elegant Elocution. Ancient Orators, their adſcribing their extemporary ſpeaking upon emergent occaſions to Neſcio quis Deus, or immediate Inſpiration: and Quintilian's judgement upon it. ¶ Ʋpon this occaſion, (as very pertinent to Enthuſiaſme in generall, though not to Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme particularly,) a more generall conſideration of this Aliquis Deus, or Neſcio quis Deus, frequently alledged by the Ancients upon ſuddain occaſions, or evaſions. Paſſages out of Homer, Cicero, Plinius Secundus, to that purpoſe. Plutarch his rule in ſuch caſes not allowed of. To make a particular providence of every thing that my be thought to happen extraordinarily, how deſtructive to Gods providence in generall. A place of Ariſtotle's conſider'd of. Cures, anciently, by Dreams and Revelations. M. A. Antoninus ▪ the Roman Emperour. Divine revelations and apparitions in Dreams (upon other occaſions too) believed by Galen, &c. Sortes Homericae. Something in that kind amongst Chriſtians alſo; and what to be thought, (if ſought and studied) of it. Great caution to be uſed in ſuch things. Two extremes to be avoided; Unthankfulneſſe and Superſtition.

CHAP. V. Of Poeticall Enthuſiaſme.

Poeticall and Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme, how near in nature; though the faculties themſelves, (Oratorie and Poetrie,) ſeldome concurring in one man. The perfection both of Poets and Orators to proceed from one cauſe, Enthuſiaſme. The diviſion of Poets, according to Jul. Caeſ. Scaliger, Poets by nature, and by inſpiration. Plato his Dialogue concerning that ſubject. Not only Poets, but their actors alſo, &c. according to Plato's doctrine, divinely inſpired. Plato not to be excuſed in that Dialogue ▪ though more ſound in ſome others. Much leſſe Scaliger, a Chriſtian, for his expreſſions in this ſubject, if not opinions, as ſome have apprehended him. Homer (the occaſion of Plato's Dialogue,) how much admired by the Ancients: by Ariſtotle, particularly. His language▪ his matter: and why not ſo much admired, and ſo raviſhing in our dayes, as he hath been formerly. Some uſe to be made of him, for confirmation of the antiquitie of the Scriptures of the Old T. No Poets (true Poets) made by Wine; diſputed and maintained againſt Scaliger: though it be granted, that Wine may contribute much towards the making of a good Poem; and why. So, ſome other things, proper to ſtirre up (in ſome tempers) the ſpirits, or the phanſie, to Enthuſiaſme; as Muſick, &c.

CHAP. VI. Of Precatory Enthuſiaſme.

The Title of the Chapter juſtified. Precatory Enthuſiaſme, not ſupernaturall only, (whether divine, or diabolicall,) but naturall alſo. Praying uſed not by Chriſtians only, but by Heathens alſo: by Chriſtians ſometimes, miſs-led by a wrong zeal; whether naturall, or ſupernaturall. Naturall Enthuſiaſme, in praying: 1. By a vehement intention of the mind. 2. By powerfull language; apt to work upon the Speakers, as well as Hearers. Dithyrambicall compoſition affected by Heathens in their prayers. Extemporary praying, no difficult thing. 3. By naturall fervency; by the advantage whereof, ſome very wicked in their lives, Hereticks and others, have been noted to have excelled in that faculty. John Baſilides Duke, or King of Moſcovia: his Zeal at his Devotions: his Viſions and Revelations; and incredible Cruelty. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jeſuites; ſtrange things written of his zeal in praying: the ſame in ſubstance, written of the ancient Brachmannes of India: both, with equall probability. The Meſſaliani, or Prayers, anciently ſo called: what their hereſie or error was. Their earneſt, intent, continued praying; raptures and Enthuſiaſms; viſions and revelations: how all theſe might happen naturally, without any ſupernaturall cauſe. Haron, a Mahometan Prince, a great Euchite or Prayer, in his kind, not to be parallell'd. ¶ A conſideration concerning faith; whether beſides that which is truly religious and divine, there be not ſome kind of naturall faith or confidence, which by a ſecret, but ſettled general providence, in things of the world, is very powerfull and effectual. A notable ſaying of Heraclitus the Philoſopher: Some Scriptures, and S. Chryſoſtome, to that purpoſe. An objection made, and anſwered. Ardormentis, in S. Jerome, how to be underſtood. Beſt Chriſtians liable to undiſcreet Zeal. Nicol. Leonicus his Diſcourſe, or Dialogue ef the efficacy of Prayers. Antonius Benivenius, De abditis m. cauſis, &c. of what credit amongſt Phyſicians. A ſtrange relation out of him, of one incurably wounded, and almoſt deſperate; who by ardent prayer was not only healed, but did alſo propheſie, both concerning himſelf, and divers other things. Some obſervations upon this relation.

Errata.

¶ Of the Copie: (not to wrong them, whoſe extraordinary care and diligence in this kind deſerveth great commendation:) Page 16. line 6. read [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. p. 22. l. 14. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. p. 21. l. 2. Title, Divinatorie. p. 92. l. 3. probabatur. p. 162. l. 8. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. p. 167. l. 17. impert. p. 170. l. 9. he be pl. p. 174. l. 9.10. proof enough, th. p. 181. l. 4. and of the r. Ibid. l. 32. reader he might ſ. ¶ Typographicall: p. 18. l. 24. as one. p. 184. l. 1. pleaſe. Ibid. l. 2. even ſ. p. 200. l. 31. concurred for. [In moſt of the books theſe three laſt are amended.] p. 213. l. 24. Eccleſiaſtici. p. 220. l. 21. me by the w.

CHAP. I. Of Enthuſiaſme in generall.

The Contents.

Varro's opinion, that Heroick men ſhould believe themſelves, though falſely, to be deſcended of the Gods, &c. noted and rejected: in Alexander the Great his Caſe particularly. ¶ The conſequence of this Knowledge or Diſquiſition. Politick pretenſions to Enthuſiaſme, or Divine Inſpiration, very uſual in all Ages: But miſtaken, through ignorance of natural cauſes, (our onely Subject and ayme in this Treatiſe) as more frequent, ſo more dangerous. Enthuſiastick times and tempers noted by ancient Authors. In thoſe times the Eleuſinia, Bacchanalia, and other Myſteries hatched. The abomination of thoſe Myſteries, though pretending to great holineſſe and piety. Ancient Theologues and Poets, pretending to Divine Inſpiration, the authors and abetters of Idolatry. Hereſies among Chriſtians through pretended inspirations. Mahometiſme. ¶ The word Enthuſiaſme, what it implies properly. The diviſion of Enthuſiaſme according to Plato and Plutarch. Plutarch's Definition. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in Plutarch; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in Actuarius. A difficult paſſage out of The Phyſical Definitions, attributed to Galen, concerning Enthuſiaſme, explained and amended. Our Definition (or deſcription) and diviſion of Enthuſiaſme into nine ſeveral Kindes, or Species. Theophraſtus his Treatiſe concerning Enthuſiaſme, whether extant. Meurſius his conjecture about the Title rejected.

IT was the opinion of Varro, that learned and voluminous Roman, (to whom whether S. Augustine were more beholding for that uſe he made of his writings, or he to S. Auguſtine for preſerving ſo much of him, which otherwiſe would have been loſt, I know not:) but his opinion, I ſay, recorded by S. Augustine in his third de Civ. Dei, ch. 4. That it was expedient for the publick good, that gallant Heroick men ſhould believe themſelves, though falſely, (ex Diis genitos) to be iſſued of the Gods, that upon that confidence they might attempt great matters with more courage; proſecute them with more fervency; and accompliſh them more luckily: as deeming ſuch confidence and ſecurity, though but upon imaginary grounds, a great advantage to good ſucceſſe. I will not enquire into the reaſons of the opinion. There is enough to be ſaid againſt it, I am ſure, (the latter part of it eſpecially, which commends ſecurity, as probable means to ſucceſſe;) from reaſon, if we will go by reaſon: and there is enough already ſaid againſt it by beſt Authors, Hiſtoriographers eſpecially, if we will go by authority. I think it very probable that Varro when he delivered it, had Alexander the Great in his mind, of whom indeed ſome ſuch thing is written by ſome that have written of him; who impute no ſmall portion of his great acts, to his fond belief concerning himſelf, that he was begotten by Jupiter. For that he was in very deed beſotted through exceſſe of ſelf-love, and high conceit of his parts and performances, into that opinion; and that it was not mere policy, to beget himſelf the more authority and obedience from others; is moſt probable. And yet in this very caſe of Alexander the Great, both by examination of particulars, and by teſtimony of good Authors, it might be maintained againſt Varro, that it would have advantaged him more to the accompliſhment of his purpoſes and deſignes, to have contented himſelf with the title of the Son and Succeſſor of Philip, a mortal King, but of immortal memory for divers excellent and princely parts: then to have aſſumed that unto himſelf, by which, even among the vulgar, prone enough of themſelves to adore a viſible Greatneſſe, more then any inviſible Deity, he got but little; but unto the better ſort he made himſelf, to ſome, (who though they made no ſcruple to give him what titles himſelf deſired, yet could not but ſcorn him in their hearts, whiles they now looked upon him rather as a juggler, or a mad man,^[2] then a Prince,) ridiculous; and to others, (whoſe fidelity he moſt wanted, becauſe the moſt generous of his Subjects) more grievous; whileſt he compelled them againſt their wills and conſciences to do that, which ſome choſe rather to die, then to do: and that himſelf for this very occaſion came to a violent untimely death, is the opinion of beſt Hiſtorians.

But of this aſſertion of Varro, I will leave every man free to judge as they pleaſe. It came in my way caſually, and I thought fit to take notice of it, becauſe of the affinity; but it is no part of my buſineſſe. That which I have here to ſhew, and to maintain, is, that the opinion of divine Inſpiration, which in all ages, and among all men of all profeſſions, Heathens and Chriſtians, hath been a very common opinion in the world; as it hath been common, ſo the occaſion of ſo many evils and miſchiefs among men, as no other errour, or deluſion of what kind ſoever, hath ever been of either more, or greater.

By the opinion of divine Inſpiration, I mean a real, though but imaginary, apprehenſion of it in the parties, upon ſome ground of nature; a real, not barely pretended, counterfeit, and ſimulatory, for politick ends. For that hath ever been one of the main crafts and myſteries of government, which the beſt of heathens ſometimes (as well as the worſt, more frequently,) the moſt commended Heroes, in ancient times, upon great attempts and deſignes, have been glad to uſe; as anciently, Minos, Theſeus, Lycurgus, founders of Common-Weales, and others, for the publick good; the nature of the common people being ſuch, that neither force, nor reaſon, nor any other means, or conſiderations whatſoever, have that power with them to make them plyable and obedient, as holy pretenſions and intereſts, though grounded (to more diſcerning eyes) upon very little probability.

But here I meddle not with policy, but nature; nor with evil men ſo much, as the evil conſequence of the ignorance of natural cauſes, which both good and evil are ſubject unto. My buſineſſe therefore ſhall be▪ as by examples of all profeſſions in all ages, to ſhew how men have been very prone upon ſome grounds of nature, producing ſome extraordinary though not ſupernaturall effects; really, not hypocritically, but yet falſely and erroniouſly, to deem themſelves divinely inſpired: ſo ſecondly to dig and dive (ſo farre as may be done with warrantable ſobriety) into the deep and dark myſteries of nature, for ſome reaſons, and probable confirmations of ſuch natural operations, falſely deemed ſupernatural. Now what hath been the fruit of miſtaken inſpirations through ignorance of natural cauſes, what evils and miſchiefs have enſued upon it, what corruptions, confuſions, alterations in point of good manners and ſound Knowledge, whether naturall or revealed; although it will appear more particularly by ſeveral examples and inſtances upon ſeveral heads, to which we have allowed ſo many ſeveral chapters: yet I think it will not be amiſs to ſay ſomewhat of it here beforehand in general, whereby the Reader may be the better ſatisfied, that this is no idle philoſophical ſpeculation, but of main conſequence both to truth in higheſt points, and publick welfare; beſides the contentment of private ſatisfaction in a ſubject ſo remote from vulgar cogniſance.

It is obſerved by divers Ancients, but more largely inſiſted upon by Plutarch, then any other that I know,^[3] that for divers Ages before Socrates, the natural temper of men was ſomewhat ecſtaticall: in their actions, moſt of them tumid and high; in their expreſſions, very Poetical and allegorical;^[4] in all things very apt to be led by phanſie and external appearances; very devout in their kind, but rather ſuperſtitious: In moſt things that they did, more guided by certain ſuddain inſtincts and raptures, then by reaſon; not out of any contempt of it, but becauſe they had it not. In thoſe dayes there was no moral Philoſophy: and they were accounted worthy of higheſt honours, that could utter moſt ſentences that had ſomewhat of reaſon in them; which by other men were generally received as Oracles becauſe they ſeemed to ſurpaſſe the wiſdome of ordinary men.

There were as many Religions almoſt as men; for every mans religion was his phanſy; and they had moſt credit and authority that could beſt invent, and make beſt ſhew. Among ſo many religions, there were no controverſies, but very good agreement and concord; becauſe no reaſon uſed either to examine, or to diſprove. There was no talk among men, but of dreams, revelations, and apparitions: and they that could ſo eaſily phanſy God in whatſoever they did phanſy, had no reaſon to miſtruſt or to queſtion the relations of others, though never ſo ſtrange, which were ſo agreable to their humors and diſpoſitions; and by which themſelves were confirmed in their own ſuppoſed Enthuſiaſms. That was the condition of thoſe dayes, (in Greece at leaſt, and thoſe parts,) as it is ſet out by ancient Hiſtoriographers, and others; until the dayes of Socrates, who for his innocent heroick life (commended and admired by Chriſtians as well as by Heathens) and his unjuſt death, (to which he was chiefly condemned for ſpeaking againſt the Idolatry of his times) might be thought in ſome meaſure (as amongſt Heathens) to have born the Image of Chriſt: but certainly not without ſome myſtery, and ſome preparation of men to Chriſtianity, was ſo magnified by all men, for being the founder of moral Philoſophy, and for bringing the uſe of Reaſon into requeſt: by which he would have all things tryed, nor any thing believed, or received upon any private account or authority, that ſhould be againſt Reaſon.

[〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] was the word which he had ſo frequent in his mouth, and which he ſo much commended to his auditors and diſciples: and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], though in a far different ſenſe I know, is the word by which Chriſt is ſtyled in the Goſpel. And as it is commonly obſerved, and true, that at the coming of Chriſt or thereabouts, all Oracles in all parts of the world began to ceaſe; ſo may we ſay that even of this ſomewhat might be thought to be prefigured in Socrates, by whoſe doctrine, as it did increaſe in the world, (as we know it did in a little time very mightily,) ſo private inſpirations and Enthuſiaſms began to be out of requeſt, and men became, as more rational every where in their diſcourſe, ſo more civil and ſober in their converſations.

Now thoſe were the times and tempers, that did produce thoſe horrid rites and myſteries, the Dionyſiaca, Cybeliaca, Iſiaca, Eleuſiniaca, and the like: in the deſcription whereof many ancient Fathers have been very exact and accurate; it being an argument that did afford matter enough to any mans wit or rhetorick; the ſenſleſneſſe on the one ſide, and the beaſtlineſſe, wickedneſſe in the other, of thoſe things that were there performed and obſerved under the name of Religion, being beyond any exaggeration, nay, beyond any ſober mans imagination. Had we not ſeen the like in theſe latter dayes upon the ſame ground of enthuſiaſms and divine revelations acted and revived, it cannot almoſt be expected that any man ſhould have belief enough to credit ſuch relations. I ſhall my ſelf willingly forbear particulars, which no modeſt reader can read without ſome reluctancy. There is enough, and more then enough of that ſtuffe, in thoſe Authors I have already mentioned. But I had rather appeal to heathens themſelves herein, for the truth of ſuch things, of themſelves ſo incredible, then to Chriſtians; who might be thought partiall. Seneca hath done pretty well upon this argument, in ſetting out the horror of theſe myſteries, in thoſe fragments of his Contra ſuperſtitiones, preſerved by S. Auguſtine in his books De Civ. Dei [l. 6. c. 10.] But Livie the Roman Hiſtorian, farre more particularly, in his twenty ninth Book; who although he ſpeak onely of the Dionyſiaca, or Bacchanalia, as they were clancularly kept at Rome; yet what he writes of them, is for the moſt part generally true of all thoſe hidden myſteries, well called Opertanea. They were not inſtituted all at one time, nor by one man: they differed in ſome certain rites and ceremonies: but in point of brutiſhneſſe and licentiouſneſſe otherwiſe, ſo like, that though we diſtinguiſh the founders by names, yet we muſt needs acknowledge them all guided by one Spirit, ſtiled in the Goſpel an unclean Spirit: not as unclean by nature, which we know he is not; but as the author of all uncleanneſſe among men; as an enemy, ſince his fall, both to God and man. Now that theſe myſteries were deviſed at firſt by men, who profeſſed themſelves, and were generally ſuppoſed by others, to be inſpired, is moſt certain. Whether they themſelves did really believe it, is not eaſie to determine. But by that time we have gone through what we purpoſe here upon this ſubject, of the ſeveral kinds and cauſes of Enthuſiaſms, we may ſpeak of it perchance with more confidence, and not fear to offend any judicious Reader.

The firſt inſtitutor of myſteries among heathens, according to ſome, (but indeed rather propagator and improver, then firſt author) was one Orpheus, a mere fanatick, as in our Chapter of Corybantical Enthuſiaſme ſhall be more fully declared: and Diog. Laertius judgeth of him rightly, that he did not deſerve the name of a Philoſopher, that had made the Gods (by his ſtrange Fictions and relations of them) more vile then the vileſt of men. Yet many others for his great antiquity, and becauſe they were glad to entertain any traditions, upon which they might ground a divine worſhip, which muſt preſuppoſe the being of a God, and immortality of the ſoul, both which might be proved by Orpheus; ſpeak of him with great reſpect. Plato plainly of him, and ſome other ancient Theologues, that they were progenies Deorum, (as he is interpreted by Tullie,) and that men were bound to believe them whatſoever they ſaid, upon that ſcore, without asking any further reaſon. A man would wonder that ſo wiſe a Philoſopher as Plato, whoſe diſcourſes otherwiſe, where he treateth of virtue and godlineſſe, reliſh ſo much of ſound reaſon, and have had ſuch influence upon rational men in all ages; ſhould adſcribe ſo much to the authors of ſuch abominable ſuperſtitions. But beſides what hath already been ſaid, that out of his good will to Religion, he was loth to queſtion his authority, upon which, as divine, many of his dayes grounded their belief of a God, a judgement, and the like; and that himſelf nevertheleſſe in ſome places, doth not ſtick to ſhew his diſlike of ſome main points of Orpheus his Divinity: after all this I muſt acknowledge, which no man that hath read him can deny, that Plato himſelf naturally, had much in him of an Enthuſiaſt. His writings, I am ſure, have really made many ſo, as we ſhall afterwards in due place declare.

Now for Poets in generall, it clearly appeares by ancient authors, that unto the common people at leaſt, if not unto the wiſer, (though unto them too for the moſt part, by their own teſtimonies,) they were as it were their ſacred Writ and records, from which they did derive their Divinity, and their belief concerning the Gods; as who, and how to be worſhipped, how pleaſed and pacified, by what prayers and ceremonies; and whatſoever doth come within the compaſſe of Religion. All which was upon this ground, that there could be no true Poet, but muſt be divinely inſpired; and if divinely inſpired, certainly to be believed. This we find even by Philoſophers of beſt account in thoſe dayes largely diſputed and maintained. The two main arguments to induce them to that belief, were, That extraordinary motion of the mind, wherewith all good Poets in all ages have been poſſeſt and agitated; and the teſtimonie of Poets themſelves, who did profeſſe of themſelves, that they were inſpired, and made particular relations of ſtrange Viſions, Raptures, and apparitions to that purpoſe: as ſhall be ſhewed in its proper place and chapter. So that as the beginning, growth and confirmation of Idolatry may be adſcribed, as by many it is, unto Poets, and their authority; ſo to ſuppoſed Enthuſiaſms and Inſpirations alſo, upon which that authority was chiefly grounded.

I know that what is here delivered concerning thoſe ancient Poets and Philoſophers, of greateſt antiquity, as of Orpheus particularly, is ſubject to much oppoſition, becauſe of that reſpect, and Veneration almoſt, that both his name, and ſome fragments of his have found with many, whoſe names ought to be venerable unto all. I ſaid, fragments; for as for thoſe entire pieces that go under his name, his Hymns or Prayers, his Argonauts, his Treatiſe of the vertue of Stones, &c. as full of ſuperſtition and groſſeſt idolatry as may be; it is generally agreed upon, that they are falſely adſcribed unto him. I will not here take the advantage of Ariſtotle's opinion, as it is affirmed by Tully, that there never was any ſuch man really as Orpheus: though it appear clearly by Plato, which would make a man the more ſuſpicious, that there were many in his time who made great profit of that common errour, that Orpheus and his mates, Linus and Muſeus, were deſcended of the Gods: whereof the poor ignorant multitude being throughly poſſeſſed, they were the more inclinable to purchaſe thoſe pretended Orphical charms and expiations, by which the guilt of any ſin might be taken away. For ſuch they carried with them up and down the countrey, as things of that nature uſe to be carried: and ſo made a great prey of the peoples credulity. But granting that ſuch a man hath been (whether Poet or Theologue) it will concern me, that it may be known, that I am not the firſt, or onely that have ſo judged of him. Let the Reader therefore if he pleaſe,^[5] read in the note ſomewhat that may ſatisfie him that it is not ſo. I content my ſelf with the judgement of one: but if the Reader can weigh that one with good judgement, he may think perchance the judgment of that one as conſiderable as the authoritie of many others.

¶ Of deteſtable Sects and Hereſies, upon this very ground of Divine Inſpiration, by which Chriſtianity hath been divided, defamed, impaired, and ſtopt in his courſe, Eccleſiaſtical Hiſtories are full: they eſpecially that have written of Hereſies, as Epiphanius, Augustine, and the like, will afford examples of all kind. But that which is much to be wondered at and lamented, is, that ſome men, otherwiſe of great worth and ability, through mere ignorance of natural cauſes have been ſeduced by ſuppoſed raptures and Enthuſiaſms, and made ſhipwrack of the true faith, which before they profeſſed. I dare ſay, and I hope it will not ſeem ſtrange to them that ſhall well ponder what we have to ſay of natural raptures and viſions, (where alſo Tertullian ſhall be mentioned again,) that Tertullian had never been an Heretick, had he been a better Naturaliſt: and yet Tertullian ſuch a man for life and learning otherwiſe, as can hardly be paralleld by any one of thoſe times; in whom the Church had as great loſſe, and lamented it as much, (ſee but Vincentius Lyrinenſis of him;) as almoſt it ever had in any one man.

I never affected to be the Author of Paradoxes and ſtrange Tenents: this age, I know, gives liberty enough and encouragement to any that is ſo minded; when nothing almoſt is accounted true, but what is new, and in oppoſition to antiquity. However, as I do not affect Paradoxes; ſo would I not be afraid to ſay ſomewhat (if upon probable grounds) that perchance hath not yet been ſaid, or thought upon: eſpecially, when more Academico, that is, by way of propoſal unto further conſideration; not of peremptory affirmation, or determination. What progreſſe Mahometiſme hath made in the world, cannot be unknown to any that know any thing of the world, beyond the very place of their own birth and abode. Certain enough it is, that the beſt and greateſt part of the world (America being laid aſide) is now poſſeſſed by it. What the firſt occaſion and beginning of it was, is not ſo certainly known perchance. We are commonly told that Mahomet did aſſume to himſelf divine authority by feigned Enthuſiaſmes. by falſe, we are ſure enough, as to Divine Authority: but whether feigned, I make ſome queſtion; and whether himſelf, and thoſe about him, that helped to promote his phrenſies, were not at firſt really beguiled themſelves, before they began to ſeduce others. It ſhall be mentioned again, when we ſpeak of raptures and extaſies from natural cauſes, and bring examples, which will be in the Chapter of Contemplative or Philoſophical Enthuſiaſmes.

So much here in general, that the Reader may the better underſtand my aim, which is the firſt thing in every work to be conſidered of, and ſo may the better know what to expect, if he ſhall think it worth his pains to read unto the end; untill which done, it is but reaſon that I ſhould deſire him to ſuſpend his judgement. It may be thought a curious argument; which I cannot deny, and might well deſerve greater abilities. Yet I my ſelf thought it not ſo curious, as profitable, which made me to adventure upon it. And that our proceedings may be the more clear and methodical, I ſhall begin with the conſideration of the word it ſelf, and in the multiplicity of different uſes and acceptions, (as in moſt others) pitch upon one that may fit our purpoſe, and may be a good help alſo to keep us within our bounds, in caſe the affinity of the matter, or ambiguity of the word and title, ſhould tempt us to digreſſe, or lead us out unawares.

Enthuſiaſme; In Greek (from whence we have the Engliſh) [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Now as [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] is that which is repleniſhed with wind; and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], with wiſdome: ſo, ſaith Plutarch, muſt [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in the ſubject where it is,^[6] import a [full] participation and communion of Divine power. We muſt not expect from Philoſophers, that they ſhould be very exact Grammarians; for it will not hold in all words that are of that forme▪ as for example, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]; it implies an effect of the thunder indeed, but not a participation (at leaſt not active, but paſſive) of the power: in [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], it is a mere relation; but in [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], I confeſſe, and many others, it doth imply both participation and plenitude.

But beſides; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] doth not ſo properly anſwer to [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], as [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] rather. But this is not a thing long to be ſtood upon. It will be more to our purpoſe to take notice of Plato's diſtinction of [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] Enthuſiaſme, (for in Plato's language they are all one, and he hath a long diſpute about it, to prove that it muſt be ſo:) by the ſame Plutarch mentioned in the ſame place. It is in Plato's Dialogue which is called Phadrus, where he doth conſtitute four ſpecies of Enthuſiaſms: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], (as himſelf doth afterwards in the ſame Dialogue briefly rehearſe them,) [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Plato's words are ſo obſcure, that it would take us much time to make him intelligible: which I doubt to moſt that will read this, will neither be pleaſing nor profitable. If any ſtudious of Plato, ſhall deſire private ſatisfaction, I ſhall hope that it may be given to their own good liking. I ſhall therefore ſpare that labour, and content my ſelf with Plutarchs diviſion; which, although he mention Plato, yet I am ſure is not the ſame, neither for the number, nor definition of particulars. I will therefore take it as from Plutarch, rather then from Plato, whom he quotes. According to Plutarch then, there be five kinds of Enthuſiaſms: Divinatory, Bacchical, (or Corybantical,) Poetical, (under which he comprehends Muſical alſo,) Martial, and Eroticall, or amatorie. All theſe, beſides that kinde of Enthuſiaſme which proceeds from diſtemper of body, which both by Plato and Plutarch is particularly mentioned and excluded. Plutarch gives us no other definition of Enthuſiaſme in general, but this, That it is a participation of an extrinſecal and divine power: which is very light and ſuperficial. He ſaith all thoſe kinds have one common name, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. which whether ſo generally true, (except I my ſelf miſtake him, which I think I do not,) I doubt. For I finde that ſome Greek Phyſicians challenge unto themſelves that expreſſion, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], (except we could make a difference of [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉],) as proper to themſelves: and they make it a diſeaſe of the body, which we ſaid before was excluded by Plutarch, and no ſuch thing as Plutarch would have; but merely imaginary, through the diſtemper of the phanſy. Actuarius (not very ancient I confeſſe) makes it a kind of melancholy, which begins in imaginary Enthuſiaſms; but commonly ends, he ſaith, in real madneſſe. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] &c. as I find him ſet out by Hen. Stephen.

But here I muſt crave, though it will not much conduce to that we mainly drive at, the benefit of all indifferently, that I may for Phyſicians ſakes, being bound to honour the profeſſion for the benefit I have received thereby, inſiſt a while upon that definition of Enthuſiaſme which I find in thoſe [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or Collection of Medicinal Definitions, which hath been received among many for Galens, but diſclaimed by the greater part to be his; however by ſome adſcribed to a much more ancient Author. His words, whoever he be, be theſe: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. So are the words ſet out by Hen. Stephen in his collections of phyſical words and Definitions. In my edition of thoſe definitions, which is the Baſil edition in 8o. 1537. inſtead of [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], it is printed [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: which is all the difference. Moſt it ſeems have ſtumbled at this word. For though I finde the place quoted by more then one Phyſician; yet not in any have I found the word rendred, but fairly paſſed over. Which is not much to be wondred at in them that make no profeſſion of extraordinary knowledge of the Tongues; when Hen. Stephen himſelf, to whoſe learned and Herculean labours the Greek tongue hath been ſo much beholding, he alſo doth paſſe it over in his tranſlation of the words; which is this: Enthuſiaſmus, eſt velut cum quidam de ſtatu mentis dejiciuntur in Sacris, ſi quid intueantur: aut ſi tympanorum, aut tibiarum ſonum, aut ſigna quaedam auribus percipiant.

Of the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], by it ſelf, what it ſignifieth; as particularly, and moſt properly to burn, or offer incenſe, or more generally to ſmoke, &c. there is no queſtion to be made: but what it ſhould do here in matter of divination or enthuſiaſme is all the queſtion. But for the firſt, it will eaſily be reſolved: For Euſtathius (not to mention others) upon the laſt of Homers Iliads, doth plainly reſolve us, that there was a kind of divination, very frequent amongſt the ancients, by burning or offering up of incenſe: and he hath the very word here in queſtion. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] (ſaith he) [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. But neither in him nor any other do I find the particulars of this divination, as it was uſed in thoſe ancient times: onely that the ſame were alſo called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Dio Caſſius, an ancient grave Hiſtorian, once a Conſul himſelf, of great command and authority, in his 41 Book, in the deſcription of Apollonia a city of Macedonia, deſcribes the Oracle, or manner of divination then uſed in the Nymphaeum of it. The manner of it was, to obſerve the time of the caſting of the incenſe into the fire, and to accompany it with earneſt prayers and ſupplications, or vows: and in caſe it took fire well, the requeſt, (if it were a matter of requeſt) or queſtion was reſolved in the affirmative, that it ſhould come to paſſe: If on the contrary, it neither would take fire of it ſelf, nor endure it, but ſtart back when it was caſt into it; (as they write, it would,) it was a certain token that the matter was not feaſable. It was open to all manner of queſtions (ſaith Dio;) but of death onely, and of marriage, it was not to be conſulted. Here is no Enthuſiaſme at all in this. But that there were divers kinds of this [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or incenſe-divination, is ſure enough: and the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in the definition we are upon, is a clear indication, that this here ſpoken of was attended, if not altogether atchieved, with ſtrange ſights and viſions, which for the time did alienate the mind of the beholder. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], are proper words to that purpoſe, as by Macrobius and divers others may appear. As for the following words in the definition, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. as no man I think will make any queſtion but that the furor Corybanticus, or Bacchical Enthuſiaſms are thereby intended: ſo upon ſome further conſideration I think it will be granted, that inſtead of [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] (as I find it every where printed) it ſhould be read [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] cymbals; thoſe three words, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] ▪ being often joyned together not upon this occaſion only: but upon this occaſion, and this particular ſubject of Corybantical Enthuſiaſms, no word being more frequent or proper in ancient Authors, Poets, and others, then this very word cymbalum. Apuleius ſpeaking of theſe barbara ſacra, ſaith that they moſt conſiſted of Cymbalistis, Tympaniſtis, and Choraulis: (De Deo Socratis, p. 49.) where we have them all three; and the Cymbals in the firſt place. Ovid calleth them tinnula aera Metam. lib. 4.

Tympana cum ſubito non apparentia raucis

Obſtrepnere ſonis; & adunco tibia cornu,

Tinnulaque aera ſonant.—

Where we have them all, in the ſame order as we find them in the Definitions; tympana, tibia, and tinnula aera or cymbala. That the Heathens otherwaies in their myſteries had their ſymbola properly ſo called, and how much they adſcribed unto them, we know well enough: divers have written of them; but not any thing that I know of, that can be pertinent to this place. Of muſical Enthuſiaſme in general we ſhall treat in its proper place, and there again give ſome further light perchance to theſe words. So much ſhall ſerve concerning this definition, whoever be the author of it: whoſe purpoſe onely was certainly to define Enthuſiaſme, not in its full latitude, but as incidentall to corporall diſeaſes, or a diſeaſe it ſelf, as it falls out ſome times: as will appear, when we treat of muſical Enthuſiaſms.

I would not be too long upon this general Protheoria, by heaping multitude of places out of ancient Authors, to ſhew the uſe of the word; which places, many of them at leaſt, I ſhall afterwards have occaſion to produce under their proper heads, to which I purpoſely reſerve them. To haſten therefore to ſome concluſion. Upon this foundation of Plato, and Plutarch's obſervations, and that uſe of the word Enthuſiaſme, very frequent in ancient Authors, I ſhall thus briefly and plainly endeavour to ſtate this buſineſſe. Enthuſiaſme, ſay I, is either naturall, or ſupernaturall. By ſupernatural, I underſtand a true and reall poſſeſſion of ſome extrinſecal ſuperior power, whether divine, or diabolical, producing effects and operations altogether ſupernatural: as ſome kind of divination, (what I mean, will appear under its proper head,) ſpeaking of ſtrange languages, temporary learning, and the like. By natural Enthuſiaſme, I underſtand and extraordinary, tranſcendent, but natural fervency, or pregnancy of the ſoul, ſpirits, or brain, producing ſtrange effects, apt to be miſtaken for ſupernatural. I call it a fervency; Firſt, becauſe it is the very word (ardor) whereby Latin Authors do very frequently expreſſe the Greek Enthuſiaſme. Secondly, becauſe when we come to conſider of the natural cauſes of Enthuſiaſme, we ſhall find that it is indeed (in divers kinds of it) a very ardor, and nothing elſe, whereof all men are naturally capable; but whether to be adſcribed to a mixture of the elements, and firſt qualities, in the compoſition of man, or to ſome more hidden and remote cauſe, ſhall be diſputed. Of natural Enthuſiaſme, (having nothing here to do with ſupernatural, but caſually for diſtinction ſake, or when the caſe is doubtfull and diſputable,) I ſhall conſtitute and conſider theſe ſeveral kinds. Firſt, Contemplative and philoſophical: which as I conceive moſt natural unto man; ſo becauſe of the ſtrange effects, of moſt conſequence to be known. It may ſeem of a different nature from other kinds, & therefore not put into the number, neither by Plato, nor by Plutarch. But we ſhall find it otherways, when we treat of the cauſes of it; and if there be any difference, it ſhall be ſhewed. A ſecond ſpecies ſhall be Rhetoricall: A third, Poeticall Enthuſiaſme. Of that which Plato calls [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and Plutarch [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], we ſhall make two ſpecies, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], (the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] is in Plato's deſcription,) that is Precatorie, or Supplicatory; and Muſical, as we uſe the word in ordinary Engliſh, for mere Melody, whether of Voice or Inſtruments. Martial Enthuſiaſme ſhall be my ſixth ſpecies. Erotical, or amatory the ſeventh. Where I would not be miſtaken, as though I intended a diſcourſe, (though proper enough to the ſubject,) or diſquiſition concerning the nature of Love, as the word is commonly uſed and underſtood. Divers have done it; I ſhall content my ſelf with what hath been done by others, Ancients eſpecially: I ſhall find enough beſides to make up a chapter, which may be more fit for me to enquire into. Mechanical Enthuſiaſme ſhall be my eighth and laſt ſpecies. Though neither Plato nor Plutarch mention any ſuch, yet others do expreſly; and there is ground enough in the nature of the thing, to give it a particular head and conſideration. Among all theſe ſpecies, I have not as yet ſpoken of Divinatory Enthuſiaſme, [•]one: neither is it altogether the ſame caſe. For all the reſt, though ſomewhat divine or diabolicall may interpoſe in particular caſes, to make a mixt buſineſs, as before intimated; yet generally that they are reducible to nature, there is no queſtion to be made. but of Divinatory Enthuſiaſme ſome queſtion may be, whether there be any ſuch merely natural.

Yet becauſe ſome have taken upon them to ſhew ſome natural cauſes of all ſuch Divination as hath been heretofore in uſe among ancient Heathens, I did think fit to take it into conſideration, though I doubt when I have ſaid all that I can, I ſhall leave the caſe very doubtfull; and though my ſelf may be inclinable to ſome opinion, yet ſhall think it fitteſt and ſafeſt to avoid peremptorie Determination. Of Religious Enthuſiaſme, truly and really religious, nothing will be found here; nor any thing, I hope, expected by them that conſider my Title, and can make a difference betwixt natural, and ſupernatural; which I ſhall endeavour as much as I can not to confound.

This is my Diviſion; and according to my diviſion, the Order that I propoſe to my ſelf. But that I ſhall go through all theſe kinds, at this time eſpecially, is more then I can promiſe my ſelf. Through all that have any relation unto ſpeech (the greater part,) I ſhall endeavour, God willing: which if I can compaſs, I have my chiefeſt end, as the Reader may underſtand by that account I give him in my Epiſtle. Though indeed I think I need not go ſo far for that, ſince that (as I take it) I may well reduce to Contemplative Enthuſiaſme all that I have to ſay to that book, that was the chief occaſion of this undertaking. However the work will be the more compleat, if I can take all thoſe ſpecies together, that have a common relation.

I thought I had done: but there is ſomewhat yet I muſt give an account of in this general view. Any either ancient or later, which hath written of this argument purpoſely and by it ſelf, I faithfully profeſſe that I know none but one; and he indeed a principal man, Ariſtotles fellow-diſciple, and not unworthy of that ſociety; even Theophraſtus the Philoſopher. That he did write a Treatiſe [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], it is ſure enough: it is mentioned by divers Ancients, and ſome paſſages out of it are in Athenaeus and Apollonius. But whether the book at this day be extant, is not in my power, the more is my grief, to give a certain account. When I did read him quoted by Scaliger againſt Cardan, Exercit. 348. without mention of any other author (Theophraſtus, in libro [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], it a demum evenire dicit, &c.) to whom beholding for his quotation, I thought it probable that he might have it out of ſome Librarie in Manuſcript, as there be many ſuch books of Ancients, as yet not publiſhed, only ſo to be found. But when I conſidered what a diligent ranſacker of all ſuch books Meurſius had been, and that in his Catalogue of Theophrastus his works, collected out of divers Authors, he made no mention of it as yet extant any where; it made me doubtfull. Neither can I yet ſay that I am out of all doubt, or hope. However upon further ſearch, finding that what Scaliger doth there alledge as out of Theophraſtus, is no other then what is produced by Athenaeus; I thought it more probable that Scaliger alſo had it out of Athenaeus. If any body can give me a further account of it, I ſhall think my ſelf much beholding to him. But whereas Meurſius in his notes upon Apollonius would correct in Apollonius, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] ▪ for [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], as it is printed; I think it not needfull. It is very likely that Theophraſtus did inſcribe his book [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in the ſingular, as it is cited by ſome Ancients; and as likely, that Apollonius or any other might quote it in the plural, becauſe of the different kinds of Enthuſiaſme, of which Theophraſtus, in all probability, had treated under that Title: as many, I believe, and more too perchance, then theſe we have propoſed here.

CHAP. II. Of Divine Enthuſiaſme.

The Contents.

All true Divination moſt properly from God. Opinions of Heathens about the cauſes of Divination. Plutarch corrected. Divination in a more general ſenſe. Some kinds of it merely natural, or phyſicall. Our question here of enthuſiastick Divination, particularly, whether any ſuch from Natural Cauſes. But firſt of all, whether any ſuch among Heathens anciently, truly and really. The grounds of the contrary opinion diſcovered and refuted. Pythones, or Pythonici, in the Scriptures and ancient Hiſtories. Pomponatius and Tho. Leonicus noted. The Queſtion rightly stated. Firſt of all, a concurrence of naturall cauſes in ſome caſes generally granted. Some Enthuſiaſts not only foretell things future, but alſo ſpeak strange Languages, through mere natural diſtemper, according to the opinion of ſome Phyſicians. But the contrary more probable, and why. That ſome things of like nature, (in ſome respects,) as Enthuſiaſtick Divination, and not leſſe to be wondred at, are certainly known to proceed from cauſes that are natural, though unknown unto men: and ſome things alſo, though from cauſes that are known, not leſſe wonderfull in their nature. Inſtances in both kinds. The power of ſmelling in Dogs. An Example out of an Author of good credit, of a man, who being blind, was a guide unto many that had eyes, by his ſmell only, through vaſt Deſerts. The power and nature of the Memorie in man, how incomprehenſible, and how much admired by both Divines and Philoſophers. The invention of conveying ſecret thoughts at any diſtance, whether of place or of time, by writing, how admirable a thing. Their opinion that fetch Divination from the nature of the Intellectus agens, in every man. The opinion of Ariſtotle in his Problems, (ſome queſtion about the Author;) of the effects of atra bilis or melancholy, a probable ground of ſome naturall divination. But after ſome general grounds and propoſitions, the continual [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or emanations of bodies, according to Ariſtotle and others, and the partu[•]itions of cauſes, (or foregoing naturall ſignes of ſtrange events and alterations,) diſcernable to ſome tempers, as alſo the concatenation of natural Cauſes, according to the Stoicks, a more probable ground. The Divination of dying men. A notable obſervation of Aretaeus, an ancient Greek Phyſician, to this purpoſe. Enthuſiaſme by vast prospects, and other natural objects.

IT is acknowledged, as well by Heathens as by Chriſtians, that abſolutely & infallibly to foretell things future, doth belong unto Him only, to whom all things paſſed, preſent and future are equally preſent. Men therefore, as many as have taken upon themſelves, or have been believed to propheſy (a word uſed as ordinarily by Heathen as by Chriſtian Authors,) or to foretell, they have been generally deemed and termed [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and the like: all which ſignifie men inſpired by God. And although [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] (Enthuſiaſme) be uſed to many purpoſes, as will appear throughout this whole Diſcourſe; yet it is moſt properly uſed to imply Divination, ſuch as is by inſpiration. And becauſe ſuch Divination among Heathens was not uſually without a temporary alienation of the mind, and diſtraction of the ſenſes; hence it is that both [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in Greek, and Vaticinari in Latin, is taken ſometimes for deliration and idle ſpeaking.

Of the cauſes of Divination many Ancients have written very largely and variouſly. All make [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or divine inſpiration, to be the chief and principal. Tullie's firſt Book De Divinatione is altogether of that Subject. But that is not my buſineſſe here. Nevertheleſſe, for their ſakes that love and read Greek books, (which in very deed, if any, after the Sacred, are beſt able to make a man wiſe and learned,) I will produce a place of Plutarch to this purpoſe: not only becauſe it conteineth much in few words; but alſo becauſe in all editions of Plutarch which I have ſeen; as that of H. Stephen in 6 vol. in 8o. which I account the beſt, and that of Paris, in Greek and Latine, of later yeares; it is corruptly exhibited, and marvelouſly both by the French and Latin interpreters miſtaken, who hardly make ſenſe of thoſe which they have, and leave out part of Plutarch's words and ſenſe.^[7] Plato (ſaith Plutarch) and the Stoicks bring in (or aſſert) Divination either as from God, immediately, ordinarily called ^[8] enthuſiaſtick; or from the Divinity (or divine nature) of the Soul, which Plato calleth ^[9] ecthuſiaſtick; or by dreams. I will forbear to ſay more of it.

Of Divination in general (that is, as the word, though not ſo properly, is often taken, for any foretelling of things future,) that there be many kinds which are merely natural and phyſical, ſome uſual and ordinary, ſome more rare, and remote from vulgar knowledge, ſome proceeding from hidden, though naturall cauſes, and grounded upon experience only, others known (to the learned at leaſt) by their cauſes, as well as by experience; they that have written De Divinatione, as Cicero anciently, Peucérus lately, (beſides divers others,) will afford ſtore of examples and arguments, if any deſire further ſatisfaction in that point. That which doth here lie upon me to enquire into is, whether any kind of enthuſiaſtical Divination, properly called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and by Tully, furor, either now known, or formerly practiced, may be accounted natural. Of ſuch kind of Divination there were among ancient Heathens many ſorts, cum furore and alienation of mind, all; (ſuch as I intend here at leaſt;) but in other circumſtances, as in the carriage of the party poſſeſt, in the manner of the utterance, in the Place, Rites, and Ceremonies belonging to it, very different.

But here I muſt ſtop a while, to remove an Objection. For what if all theſe pretended enthuſiaſtical Divinations, by Oracles, or otherwayes, were but mere Gulleries and Impoſtures to get money; (as is daily practiſed to this day, though not in the ſame kind, in all parts of the world,) & to amaze credulous and ſuperſtitious people? Or at the beſt, the ſubtle devices and artifices of well-meaning Politicians, to compaſſe great matters for the good of the people, (as muſt alwaies be preſuppoſed,) and their own good content? That this hath been the opinion of ſome Ancients, (even Heathens) and is at this day of many learned Chriſtians, it cannot be denied. But upon ſome further enquiry into the buſineſſe, I hope I ſhall be allowed to deliver mine own opinion without offence; which is this: I take it to be a very partial, or very illiterate account or come off, in a matter (as to the cauſe) of ſuch both conſequence, and obſcurity. Firſt, I call it a partial account. Amongſt Heathens there were divers Sects, for which there was as much ſtrife and emulation, as is now amongſt Chriſtians of different opinions. The two grand Sects, were of thoſe that maintained the being of a God, (whether one or more,) and his Providence over the world, on the one ſide; on the other, thoſe that either abſolutely denied the very being of any Deity, (which few durſt;) or granting that there is a God, yet denied his Providence, or that he intermedled in humane affairs. Now it was taken for granted on all parts that, ſi Divinatio ſit, Dii ſunt; if any true (enthuſiaſtical) Divination, then Gods alſo: if no Gods, no Divination. It is Tullies word, that iſta reciprocantur; that they are termini convertibiles, as we ſay commonly. What ground there is in nature it ſelf for this ſuppoſed reciprocation, would be an unneceſſary digreſſion: my matter will not oblige me to warrant it true: it is enough for me, if it be granted, as I know it muſt, by them that have read the writings of ancient Heathens of either ſide, that it was ſo generally believed. Now as men that are once ingaged both in inward affection, and in outward profeſſion (which commonly go together) unto a party, are very apt to credit any thing for truth that makes for them; and on the contrary; nay ſome though they themſelves know it to be otherwayes, yet will do what they can, that what is advantagious for their ſide may be believed by others; ſuch is the wretchedneſſe of moſt men, where their affections, or intereſts are once engaged: ſo doth it manifeſtly appear to have happened in this particular buſineſſe. If therefore Lucian, a profeſt Atheiſt or Epicure, who employed what he had of wit and eloquence in deriding all manner of Religions, ſcoffe and jeare at all miraculous relations, which he hath made the ſubject of one of his Dialogues, entitled Philopſeudes; if he will not admit of any Divination, or Oracles, as proceeding from any kind of enthuſiaſme; it is not much to be wondred at. If others beſides Lucian and ſuch profeſt Epicures have done the like in ancient times, ſomewhat might be ſaid to them too; but that we will not be too long upon it. As for late Authors, I would rather blame their negligence in this point, then ſuſpect their partiality. Certainly, except all ancient Authors both Greek and Latin did conſpire together to make themſelves a ſcorn to their own time, by writing ſuch things as generally known and received, which nevertheleſſe were but either their own phanſies, or the ſlights of ſome cunning merchants; and to make a ſcorn of after times, who upon the warrant of ſuch witneſſes, accounted grave and ſober, might eaſily be induced to believe ſuch things, though ſtrange enough otherwaies, when it ſhould be too late to diſprove them by any viſible ſearch and triall: except, I ſay, they did of purpoſe ſo conſpire, ſo many Authors, of ſo many different ages, and different countries, Poets, Philoſophers, Hiſtorians, and others; it muſt needs be, that ſuch Enthuſiaſms were very frequent in ancient times. Neither was it a jeſting matter to ſome of them, that did offer themſelves, or were choſen by others to that miniſtry, according to the ſeveral rites, ceremonies, and conditions of ſeveral places. Lucan perchance, as a Poet, may be thought to deliver it more generally, then truly, when he ſaith;

— Siqua Deus ſub pectora venit;

Numinis aut poena eſt mors immatura recepti,

Aut pretium: quippe ſtimulo fluctuque furoris

Compages humana labat: pulſuſque Deorum

Concutiunt fragiles animos. —

Lucan. lib. 5.

He ſeems to make it a general caſe, as though all ſo inſpired (in that particular place at leaſt,) did die ſoon after. But in his time that Oracle was almoſt expired; and therefore he might the eaſier miſtake, becauſe ſo little uſed. That ſome died in the fit, or preſently after, is not to be doubted; and Plutarch in his book De Def. Oraculorum writeth very particularly of one of his time that did ſo. But that which is more ſtrange is, that graveſt authors of thoſe times ſtick not to adſcribe a great part of that worldly greatneſſe and proſperity, unto which the affairs of Greece did once arrive, when ſeveral Commonwealths among them, ſome together, ſome ſucceſſively, as that of the Athenians, the Lacedemonians, and the like, did flouriſh; to the Oracles, and other kind of divinations of thoſe times. So Plato in his Phaedrus, where he diſputes that divine madneſſe is to be preferred before humane ſobriety and wiſdome: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. Plutarch, though upon another occaſion, hath the ſame obſervation, of the many benefits that did accre[•] to the Grecians by the Oracle at Delphos. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c▪ Whence it is that even Socrates, the author of the rational ſect of Philoſophers, becauſe he would have all things as well in matter of belief as practice brought to the trial of reaſon; yet even he did allow of the uſe of Oracles, nay commend it, and thought it neceſſary [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. and judged them no leſſe then mad, or ſtrangely beſotted, that maintained the contrary. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: as is recorded by one of his diſciples, ^[10] Xenophon, a famous both Philoſopher and Hiſtorian. And I pray what were the Pythones, or Pythonici, ſo called becauſe of the ſuppoſed ſpirit of Divination in them, but Enthuſiaſts; but that the fit or faculty, becauſe more habitual, was not ſo ſtrong and viſible? They were for the moſt part of the meaneſt ſort of men, women often, neither ſo experienced in the world, or ſo perfected by ſtudy, as that any could ſuſpect them to deal cunningly.

Such a one we read of Acts 16.16. and ſuch a one is Alexander ſaid by ſome to have had with him in his expedition for the conqueſt of the Eaſt; as is recorded by Arrianus: and ſuch another Marius, in his expeditions againſt the Cimbri, ſo terrible unto the Romans: Syrian women both. Martha was her name whom Plutarch ſpeaks of.

Yet for all this, and what elſe might be added to the ſame purpoſe, (if it concerned us, and our purpoſe here to be long upon it,) it is farre from me to deny or to doubt, that in the carriage of theſe things, in all places there was much cunning and juggling, much error and deceit; and perchance ſome particular places and Oracles, where all that outwardly had a ſhew of Enthuſiaſme, was nothing but Art and Impoſture. But that all was therefore, is as good as to ſay, that there is no truth in the world, becauſe nothing in the world that is not lyable to the impoſture of men.

But now to the proper buſineſſe of this chapter; Whether any enthuſiaſtical Divination might be accounted merely natural, or whether altogether either divine or diabolicall; that is it we are now to conſider of. I ſhall not here referre my Reader to ſuch as either Pomponatius, or Leonicus: the firſt whereof doth not allow of any miracles at all as ſupernatural but takes upon him (blaſphemouſly) to give natural reaſons for all, even for thoſe that were done by Christ; the other, if not in all points of Pomponatius his faith, yet in this of Divination and ſome others, a mere Peripatetick, without any mixture of Chriſtianity. I have nothing to do with ſuch; and I think their grounds, for the moſt part, as contrary to ſenſe and reaſon, as they are to faith. I would not be ſo miſtaken. Here is no queſtion made of Enthuſiaſtick Divination, either divine or diabolical: but whether any ſuch, as may be thought to proceed from natural cauſes. Again, by Enthuſiaſtick Divination we do not here underſtand a pretended, imaginary, though not hypocritical divination, which hath nothing of truth or reality in it, (except by ſome chance, among many falſe ſometimes,) ſaving the boldneſſe of the parties who are deluded. That ſuch confidence and deluſion is incidental to ſome kind of diſtempers of the brains, is certainly known; and we ſhall meet with ſome examples, where we ſhall have occaſion to treat of ſuch diſtempers. We intend ſuch Enthuſiaſtical Divination, as by ſeveral Events, and by due obſervation of all Circumſtances, hath been obſerved to be true. It is a very obſcure point that we are upon, and therefore the Reader muſt not wonder if I lead him about before I come to any determination. If we had to do with them that are Scholars only, we ſhould be ſhorter.

Firſt then we ſhall obſerve a concurrence of Natural Cauſes. This is granted by all Phyſicians and Naturalliſts. Melancholici, maniaci, ecſtatici, phrenetici, epileptici, hyſtericae mulieres: All theſe be diſeaſes naturally incidental to all both men and women; the laſt only proper to women. as naturally incidental all, ſo curable by natural means and remedies. No body doubts of that. To all theſe natural diſeaſes and diſtempers, enthuſiaſtick divinatory fits are incidental. I do not ſay that it doth happen very often: that is not materiall, whether often or ſeldome. but when it doth happen, as the diſeaſe is cured by natural means, ſo the Enthuſiaſms go away, I will not ſay by the ſame means, but at the ſame time. That is certain by frequent experience, and by the acknowledgement of beſt Phyſicians, Sennertus, Peucerus, and divers others whom I could name. Thoſe men and women, which, when they were ſick of thoſe diſeaſes, did foretel divers things which came to paſſe accordingly, and ſome of them (which I think more wonderfull, as more remote from natural cauſes,) had ſpoken ſome Latin, ſome Greek, ſome Hebrew, or any other language, whereof before they had no uſe, nor skill; when once cured of theſe Diſeaſes, they return to their former ſimplicity and ignorance.^[11] this is granted by all. Whereupon ſome, as Levinus Lemnius particularly, do peremptorily conclude that no other cauſe of ſuch accidents is to be ſought, but natural. Quos ego pronuncio, ſaith he, non à malo infestoque Genio divexari, nec Daemonis inſtinctu impulſuve, ſed vi morbi, humorumque ferocia, &c.

And he doth endeavour to give ſome reaſon from the nature of the Soul, &c. how ſuch a thing might happen naturally. But his reaſons are no wayes ſatisfactory. And that theſe extraordinary operations do rather proceed from the Devil, to me is a great argument, (beſides other reaſons,) becauſe the very ſelf-ſame things are known to happen to divers that are immediately poſſeſt, without any bodily diſtemper, other then the very poſſeſſion, which muſt needs affect the body more or leſſe. Beſides what hath been obſerved out of ancient Fathers, as S. Jerome and others;^[12] Lucian hath a relation to that purpoſe in his Philopſeudes, or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] which although (as all other things of that nature as is before obſerved,) he ſeem to reject as a Fable yet by many probable circumſtances might be commended, if not concluded, an Hiſtory: though not with all thoſe circumſtances perchance, wherewith, the better to ſerve his purpoſe, he doth endeavour to make it as ridiculous and improbable as he can.

But to paſſe by divers relations of later times, upon the credit (ſome of them at leaſt) of very creditable Authors and witneſſes; I ſhall content my ſelf with the teſtimony of one, a man of exquiſite learning, and a curious ſiſter of the truth in doubtfull points; and a man of that integrity, that having got great credit in the world for his skill (among other things) in Judicial Aſtrology, being convicted in his Conſcience, as himſelf relateth, that it was but men Couzenage and Impoſture, he made no ſcruple to make open recantation, and wrote againſt it very learnedly. Georgius Raguſeius is the man: whoſe words in his ſecond book De Divinatione, Epiſt. 11. De Oraculis, are; N[••] ego Venetiis pauperem quandam mulierem, &c. that is, I have known at Venice a certain poor woman, which we poſſeſt: ſometimes ſhe would be ſtupid and ſottiſh; ſometimes ſhe did ſpeak with divers tongues, and diſcourſe of things belonging to the Mathematicks, and Philoſophy, yea and to Divinity. I do not write here what I have heard from others, but my ſelf have diſputed with her more than once. Thus he.

However, though we do not adſcribe ſuch wonderful[•] effects to nature; yet it is ſomewhat, that beſt Phyſicians acknowledge ſuch a preparation and diſpoſition of the body, through diſtemper of humors, which giveth great advantage to the Devil to work upon; which diſtemper being cured by phyſical drugs and potions, the Devil is driven away, and hath no more power over the ſame bodies. Neither do I think Divination, in ſome kind at leaſt, (as by and by ſhall be ſhewed) ſo ſupernatural an operation, as the ſpeaking of Languages, (without any teaching,) and uſe of Sciences is. If a man examine all thoſe wayes of enthuſiaſtick Divination that have been heretofore in uſe, which were not a few in number, and in many circumſtances very different; he may obſerve in ſome of the chiefeſt, a manifeſt concurrence of ſome natural cauſes preparing or diſpoſing the bodies for ſuch impreſſions and operations; if no more. I would inſiſt in ſome particulars, but that I would not be too long upon this point, as of leaſt conſideration to our main ſcope and argument. The Reader (if a Scholar, and acquainted with books,) may ſatisfie himſelf if he pleaſe, reading but Iamblichus De myſteriis Aegypt. where he deſcribes (in one of thoſe chapters) very particularly the manner of three Oracles, the Colophonian, Delphick, and Branchidicum. Iamblichus himſelf, I know, is much againſt it, that any natural thing ſhould be conceived as a partial or concurrent cauſe. but the underſtanding Reader may make his own obſervations upon divers particulars nevertheleſſe. However, our diſquiſition is not of Oracles in particular, wherein I ſhould eaſily grant other cauſes then natural; but of enthuſiaſtick Divination, of what kind ſoever, in general; whether any ſuch, &c. Well, ſo much we have got by this firſt obſervation, that natural cauſes may contribute very much towards it, if not wholly ſufficient to produce this effect.

Secondly, becauſe the queſtion is not (ſo properly) whether any manifeſt, or very probable natural cauſe can be ſhewed; but whether it be againſt all reaſon, whether manifeſt or probable, to believe that ſome kind of enthuſiaſtick Divination may proceed from cauſes that are natural, though it be beyond the reach of man to find them, as in many other things whereof no queſtion is; this, I ſay, being the true ſtate of the Queſtion, before we come to the conſideration of particular reaſons and cauſes, I think it neceſſary for their ſakes that are not uſed to the ſpeculation of Nature and her ſecrets, to inſiſt a while upon ſome ſuch things as are certainly known (though from cauſes to moſt men unknown and incomprehenſible,) to be natural: and ſome ſuch things alſo which in themſelves, if well conſidered, deſerve no leſſe admiration, though the cauſes be not unknown. This will be a very good way, as I conceive, to prepare men not verſed in ſuch ſpeculations, not to caſt off preſently for ridiculous or impoſſible, all things the reaſon whereof they cannot underſtand.

I will not take the advantage of Natures amplitude in this kind, as full of wonders, as it is of objects, if rationally and philoſophically looked upon. It is ſure enough, that there is not any one of Natures works, how mean ſoever and ordinary to vulgar ſight and eyes, but may afford ſomewhat in the cauſe whereof the reaſon of the moſt rational and underſtanding may be poſed. I will confine my ſelf to ſuch things, generally known, and ſuch as may have ſome reference to our preſent occaſion. That which I ſhall firſt propoſe to be conſidered is, that quickneſſe and exactneſſe of ſome ſenſes in ſome dumb creatures, ſo far exceeding that proportion wherewith nature hath endowed Man. As for example; Who knows not that Hounds and Dogs excell in ſmell beyond all compariſon? Hunters, they that have written of it, as ſome Ancients, and they that practice it daily, tell of ſtrange things in that kind; but who doth not daily obſerve it in every ordinary Curre? Who knows not, that by their bare ſmell they can diſcern their Maſter among thouſands, (an argument of their exactneſſe in dijudicating of different ſmels, among ſo many of one kind,) and how they will trace their ſteps throughout a whole Country, and find their own way home at a vaſt diſtance, by the ſame faculty? Naturaliſts tell us, that the reaſon of their excellency in that ſenſe is, becauſe the nervus odoris is very great: greater (they ſay) in a Dog, then it is in an Ox. Whether that be it or no, I ſhall not here diſpute. But ſuppoſe that a man, (as many things happen to men naturally, contrary to the common courſe of nature,) ſuppoſe, I ſay, that a man, unknown to others, ſhould be born to ſuch a perfection of ſenſe; might not he, by the advantage of reaſon to boot, do ſtrange things, think we, to the admiration of all men that ſhould not know the cauſe? As for example, diſcloſe Secrets, which no man would think poſſible, except he were a Witch; to tell who came to his houſe, though he ſaw them not, and from whence; and in a good meaſure, what ſhould be done in it, by day or by night, though he ſtirred not from one place? All this, and many ſuch things, by the advantage of that one ſenſe heightned to that perfection, joyned with humane ratiocination and wit, he might do; for which I believe be would be no leſſe admired, (and even in that kind he might do much too, by the ſaid advantage,) then if he did foretell many things future. But this is but a ſuppoſition: It is true: but ſuch a ſuppoſition, as ſhews a poſſibility in nature, of things that would generally be deemed ſupernaturall. And there be ſome examples of men that have excelled, if not in this one, yet in ſome other ſenſe, far beyond the ordinary proportion of men.^[13] Joannes Leo of Africa, a man for his fidelitie, amongſt the learned in the Eaſtern Languages and Hiſtories of very good eſteem, hath a ſtrange relation, of a blind man that was a guide to certain Merchants travelling through the Deſerts of Arabia. The man road upon a Camel, and led his company, not by his Eyes, which he had not; but by his Smell, which was ſo exquiſite, that having been acquainted with thoſe wayes before, he could find by the ſent of the very earth, nay, of the ſand, (which was reached unto him at every mile,) where he was, and would deſcribe the places unto them as they went along: yea, told them long before (which proved true, though not believed then,) when they drew near to inhabited places.

But we will conſider ſomething more common, and more generally known in man. Wherein if we look upon the Body, or the Soul, but eſpecially upon ſome Faculties of the Soul, and their ſeveral functions in the bodie, we have matter of admiration enough. It is well known, how Galen in the conſideration of theſe things was often poſed in the cauſe, and doth ingenuouſly acknowledge his ignorance. Fernelius, who was accounted the Galen of his time, hath collected many paſſages out of him to that purpoſe; and is ſo far from pretending to give us light himſelf in thoſe things where Galen wanted eyes, that he makes it his task, to ſhew us onely that they are things to men incomprehenſible. I will inſiſt upon ſomewhat that may be thought to have ſome affinity with poſſeſſion and Enthuſiaſme. And what more to be wondred at in this kind, then the power of the Phanſy, which is able to carry a man out of his bed in his ſleep; to make him walk up and down; to lead him over bridges; and to ſet his hands at work ſometimes (all this in his dead ſleep) to the accompliſhment of ſuch things, as no man otherwayes would have thought could have been done without the uſe of open eyes, and perfect reaſon? Examples of this diſtemper of body (for it is but a diſtemper of body,) there be ſo many and ſo ſtrange, both in the writings of Phyſicians, and other Hiſtories, beſides what daily experience doth afford, that I ſhall willingly ſpare them here.

I will inſiſt upon another thing, of it ſelf more wonderfull by far, though commonly leſſe wondered at, (as the faſhion is amongſt the vulgar of men,) becauſe more ordinary. and that is, the power of Memory in man. I know no man that hath done upon that ſubject better then S. Auguſtine in his Confeſſions. he hath beſtowed ſeveral chapters upon it, not to find out the natural cauſe, which he profeſſeth to be far above his reach; but to ſet out (which he doth very pithily and copiouſly) to the view and conſideration of other men the wonderfull effects of it. Magna iſta vis eſt Memoriae, magna nimis, ^[14] Deus meus, penetrale amplum, &c. c. 8. Et hoc quis tandem indagabit? Quis comprehendat quomodo ſit? Ego certe, Domine, laboro hic, & laboro in meipſo; factus ſum mihi terra difficultatis; &c. ch. 16. and again ch. 17. Magna ista vis eſt memoriae. Neſcio quid horrendum, Deus meus, profunda & infinita multiplicitas, &c. Aboali (to whom Julius Scaliger gives this teſtimony,^[15] that he is omnium philoſophorum acutiſſimus atque cordatiſſimus, that is, the wiſeſt and acuteſt of all Philoſophers,) after he had turned himſelf all the ways that he could to make ſomewhat of it, that might ſound of natural reaſon, was at laſt, by the many inextricable difficulties that he met with, driven to this, to make a God or a Daemon of it. For he doth plainly deny that there is any ſuch thing in the natural conſtitution of man, as Memory; but that it is reſident in an extrinſecal intelligentia; and that what we call Memory, is nothing but a natural power of the intellectus to reflect upon that intelligentia, and to diſpoſe it ſelf for the influence of it. Scaliger having ſpoken of this Philoſopher and his opinion with great reſpect, as though he intended to maintain it againſt all gainſayers, is content at the laſt, for Ariſtotles ſake, to bring many arguments againſt it; which was no very hard thing to do: But as for thoſe difficulties and perplexities, by himſelf acknowledged, that drove that optimum virum, as he calls him, into this opinion, I do not find that he takes away any, or ſo much as goes about it.

I ſhall inſiſt but upon one thing more, which is of another nature indeed, becauſe the cauſe of it is not hidden, but known unto all men: but yet ſuch a thing in my judgement, as deſerveth no leſſe admiration, and hath as much affinity in its effects with Enthuſiaſtick Divination as any thing that bath been ſpoken of. There was a time, it is well known, when none of thoſe things that we call letters, which children are taught when firſt ſent to ſchool, were known or heard of. It is ſo yet, I believe, in ſome parts of the world: but in all parts time was when no ſuch thing was known. If no letters, then no reading, no writing. This might very well be, when men in other things were wiſe and rational enough; and perchance had ſome inventions of good uſe, which we have not. But I would have any man to conſider with himſelf, if at ſuch a time, ſome two or three that had been acquainted with the uſe of reading and writing had appeared, and made publick ſhew (yet concealing purpoſely the myſtery of it, to beget admiration,) of their Art, by communicating with one another at a great diſtance (as now is ordinary) by the mediation of written papers, which ſhould contain particulars of the preſent condition of each place, what is done, what hath happened, &c. who can think otherwiſe, but that either the men would have been judged more then men, that could ſee and know at ſuch a diſtance; or at leaſt, the papers that brought intelligence unto them, to be ſome kind of Angel or Devils? But we need not go by conjectures; for it is cetain enough, by the experience we have had of it in theſe later times, that it would have been ſo: witneſſe dive[••] that have written of the Indies, and of America: who alſo relate what uſe the Spaniards made of it, to beget to themſelves, for this very thing, an opinion of divine and ſupernatural abilities. You may read of it, if you pleaſe, and be not better furniſht, in Herm. Hugo, De prima ſcribendi origine, printed at Antwerp, 1617. in his Preface. And if any man think that I make too great a wonder of it, as I know there be many (never born to be Philoſophers) who can hardly be brought to admire any thing that is known and ordinary: I could appeal to many both ancient and late, men of great reputation and learning, that have been of the ſame judgement, who have given it place (and ſome, preeminence,) among the greateſt miracles in the world. You may find many of them quoted by the ſaid Author. For my part, I profeſſe to admire nothing more. I ſhould not think it ſo much, to ſee a dead body made to walk by ſome Necromancer for a time, as I do to hear a man, that hath been dead ſome hundred, or thouſand of years perchance, to ſpeak to me ſo audibly and plainly by this Art. Neither do I think it a greater wonder, that ſome men have ſpoken without a tongue, (whereof I reade a very late example in Nicol. Tulpius his Obſerv. Medicae lib. 1. c. 41. Mutus loquens.) then that men ſhould be able ſo familiarly and readily to communicate with one another at a diſtance, by the onely help of their hands. We may give men the praiſe, to have been the inſtruments and ſecondary cauſe; as ſome, we know, are commonly named to have invented ſome letters, and ſome others: but he is much to blame, in my judgement, that looks upon any other then God himſelf as the author of ſo great and ſo ineſtimable a benefit.

Were we to treat of the cauſes of Divination in general, and of the ſeveral opinions about it, we ſhould think it neceſſary to begin with a conſideration of that, which is commonly called among Philoſophers Intellectus agens; what it is according to Ariſtotle, what according to Averroes and other Arabs; whether a particular exiſtence in every man, or whether univerſal in all men; whether part of the ſoul of man, or whether extrinſecal and adventitious; whether eternal à priore & poſteriore, or whether à poſteriore only, or not ſo much as à poſteriore; and the like. From the nature of which intellectus agens, moſt Arabs and many Jews fetch Divination; yea and ſome Chriſtians too, not of them only who had the bare name, as Pomponatius and the like; but ſome alſo that ſeem to adſcribe very much to the Scriptures,^[16] as Bodinus particularly; whoſe opinion of an extrinſecal intellectus agens in every man, ſeems not much repugnant to Aboali's in point of memory, before ſpoken of. He is copious enough upon that argument, if any deſire to know his opinion. There is no queſtion but if theſe opinions were true, or fit for our conſideration in this place, we might conclude rightly enough, that enthuſiaſtick Divination is no ſupernatural thing, but natural unto man as he is a man, endowed with ſuch and ſuch properties. For as in caſe of the peſtilence incidental unto men, we do not ſay that it is ſupernatural, but natural unto man to be infected; though the immediate cauſe (ſometimes at leaſt,) be not in man, but from ſuch and ſuch a conſtitution of the skies, and ſuch a temper of the aire, to which ſuch a conſtitution, and ſuch a temper at ſome times is natural, or doth happen by courſe of nature: So though this intellectus agens, as many teach, be a thing extrinſecal, yet as (according to their opinion) it is natural unto all men, that are right men, to have ſuch a one; ſo both it and the effects of it, (Divination among the reſt,) may be thought natural unto men. But for my part, as I do not embrace the opinion my ſelf, ſo do I think the diſquiſition too abſtruſe for ordinary men: and perchance more abſtruſe then profitable, for any.

Ariſtotles opinion is that which I ſhall chiefly pitch upon; and if he do not help us, I ſee but little hopes from any other. Ariſtotle then in his Problems, ſect. 30.1. hath a long diſcourſe of the ſeveral effects of the atra bilis, according to its different [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or temperature; that is, as it is mixed either with heat, or cold. Among other things, he hath theſe words: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. that is; They to whom this [melancholick] temperament is natural, it preſently ſhews it ſelf in the varietie of their nature and diſpoſitions, according to the diverſity of the temperament or mixture. They that have ſuperfluity of it, and cold, they are [naturally] ſluggiſh and ſtupid. but they that abound with it joyned with heat, they are wildiſh, good natur'd, [or witty] prone to love, quickly moved to paſſions and concupiſcences; and ſome alſo very talkative, [or diſcourſive.] And ſome again, becauſe of the nearneſſe of this heat to the ſeat of reaſon, are liable to diſtempers of madneſſe, and enthuſiaſtickneſſe. Hence alſo are proceeded the Sibyls, and the Bacchicks, and all that are truly [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], [ſo called and accounted, that is, divinely poſſeſſed, and inſpired,] when it doth not happen through ſickneſſe, but by natural temper. Ariſtotle doth ſeem to contradict himſelf in thoſe laſt words, in that having made enthuſiaſtickneſſe a [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, a diſtemper, or ſickneſſe, he doth afterwards affirm, that the [true] [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] muſt be ſo by their natural temper. which perchance made Budeus to leave out thoſe laſt words in the Greek, ^[17] where he cites them in his Annotations upon the Pandects. But it muſt be remembred, which was noted before, that [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] is ſometimes taken for a bodily diſeaſe; and ſo [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] (commonly confounded) are diſtinct: Aristotles purpoſe being to ſay, that both the [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], through diſeaſe, and the [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], naturally, proceed from this kind of mixture of the atra bilis. But again, If [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], may ſome ſay, ſo really, how naturally? Except we ſhall ſay, that Ariſtotle intended to aſſign a double cauſe: the one natural in preparing the bodie, without which preparation nothing would be done; the other ſupernatural, the formal and immediate cauſe of the operation. And if this were his meaning, then he is much wronged by them who lay to his charge, as though he made Melancholy the only cauſe; whereas themſelves alſo allow of ſome previous preparation and diſpoſition (in ſuch caſes) as neceſſary.

I have heard ſome learned men make a queſtion whether thoſe Problems were truly Ariſtotles, becauſe they have obſerved ſome things in them not worthy (they think) ſo grave and ſolid a Philoſopher. I have thought ſo my ſelf ſometimes, I muſt confeſſe; and it is not impoſſible but that ſomething might be foyſted in here and there, that is of another ſtamp. But for the generality of the book, there is authority enough from ancient Authors by whom it is often quoted: and for this part and parcel of it we are now upon, there is too much of Ariſtotles ſtile and genius in it, to leave it doubtful and queſtionable. And beſides that, we have Cicero's teſtimony, in his firſt of Divination: Ariſtoteles quidem eos etiam qui valetudinis vitio furerent, & melancholici dicerentur, cenſebat habere aliquid in animis praeſagiens atque divinum. Except Ariſtotle ſhould treat of it ſomewhere elſe too, as I think he doth; though this be the place moſt taken notice of. For my part, I confeſſe that I adſcribe much to this diſcourſe of the Philoſopher concerning the effects of atra bilis. I wiſh ſome few lines had been left out, that the whole might have been read or interpreted in offenſively. However, becauſe I would not be over-long upon this ſubject, I ſhall content my ſelf with what hath been ſaid upon it, haſtening to the conſideration of another opinion of the ſame Ariſtotle, which few take notice of that have written of this ſubject, concerning the cauſes of Divination; upon which I purpoſe to ground my concluſion. But firſt of all to make it the more intelligible to all men, I muſt begin with ſome general grounds.

Firſt, That there is nothing without a cauſe, but God.

Secondly, That ſome things are by Gods immediate will, without any ſubordination of ſecondary means; and ſome things though by the will of God, yet through means which he hath appointed, known to us under the name and notion of natural cauſes.

Thirdly, Of things that happen by natural cauſes, ſome things happen according to the ordinary courſe of nature, having their limited times and ſeaſons, &c. other things extraordinarily, (as to the ordinary courſe of nature) though not leſſe naturally.

Fourthly, Nothing that happens according to the ordinary courſe of nature, whereof the cauſe is known, though it be foretold long before, comes within the compaſſe of true Divination.

For example; An Aſtrologer can foretel what Eclipſes of either Sun or Moon will be a hundred or two hundred years hence; at what Day of the Moneth, and what Hour of the Day they will happen. I know what can be ſaid againſt it, that ſome have been deceived in the hour, as in the Eclipſe that happened 1605. April 3. about which ſome very able Artiſts are noted to have miſtaken; and the reaſon is given by Aſtronomers how ſuch a miſtake might happen: However it is very ſeldome that ſuch a chance doth happen, and when it doth, it is but a miſtake of the hour, not of the day. In ſuch predictions, though wonderful to ignorant people, and to ſome that make a trade of cheating people that are ignorant, there is nothing ſupernatural, nothing that really can be accounted Divination.

Fifthly, That many things happen according to the conſtant courſe of nature, the cauſes whereof are not known: For example; the Flux and Reflux of the Sea, the inundation of the river Nilus; and the like.

Sixthly, That many natural things before they come to that paſſe, as to be generally known or viſible, have ſome kind of obſcure beginnings, by which they be known by ſome long before. Or thus; That many natural things, by ſome natural foregoing ſignes, may be known, felt or diſcerned by thoſe men or creatures, that have a natural diſpoſition or ſympathy, whether conſtant or temporary, to thoſe things or their ſignes, though unto others that have not they be altogether unknown.

So, for example, many dumb creatures are ſenſible of future changes and alterations of air, of imminent ſtorms and tempeſts. They foreſee them not by any ratiocination, or conſideration of the cauſes, but feel ſome effects of the agitation of cauſes, and foregoing ſymptomes, which in very truth are part of the being of the things themſelves, not yet ſo diſcernable as afterwards. And not dumb creatures only, but men alſo, by the natural temper of their heads, or by ſome accidental diſtemper in ſome member, can foretel, ſome times a long time before, ſuch alterations and Tempeſts, Froſt or Snow, wet or drie weather, and the like; not by the help of their reaſon, but by ſome proper antecedent effects of ſuch changes and chances, which they feel in themſelves.

And this hath brought us to the main buſineſſe which we are to conſider of, and ſo to come to a concluſion. The ancient Stoick Philoſophers, who did adſcribe all things unto Fate or Deſtiny, did enlarge themſelves very much upon this ſubject; alledging, firſt, that as nothing did happen in the world, but by an eternal concatenation of cauſes; ſo ſecondly, that there is ſuch dependance of theſe cauſes, of the one upon the other, that nothing can truly be ſaid to happen ſuddenly, becauſe nothing but had in, and of it ſelf an aptitude to be foreſeen long before in its Cauſes. Nay, ſome went further, that all things that ſhould be, had a kind of preſent being in the generality of nature, though no actual viſible exiſtence. Upon all which they inferred the poſſibility of Divination by the knowledge of nature. But leaving them to their opinions as too general and remote, Democritus will bring us nearer to our aim; who maintained that out of all things that happened by natural cauſes, there proceeded certain ſpecies ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] he called them) and emanations; not from the things themſelves only when actually exiſtent, (though then indeed moſt ſtrong and apparent,) but from their Cauſes alſo. It will be hard to make them that have no philoſophical knowledge of nature at all to comprehend this: I do not ſay to believe it, that is another thing; but to comprehend what is intended, whether true or falſe. But they that have ſo much philoſophy in them, as to be able to give ſome account more then every child can, (becauſe he hath eyes,) how they ſee, eſpecially if ever they have been ſpectators of the ſpecies of objects, gathered through a little hole and piece of glaſſe before it in a dark chamber, upon a white wall, or ſheet of paper; as moſt (I ſuppoſe) that have any curioſity, have ſeen at ſome time or other: ſuch may the better conceive what is intended. Not that I make thoſe ſpecies that iſſue out of objects, by the intromiſſion whereof the ſight is accompliſhed, to be the very ſame as thoſe emanations he maintained; but only to have ſome kind of reſemblance, whereby thoſe may the better be underſtood.

Now this was Ariſtotles opinion, and the opinion of Syneſius too, a very learned Philoſopher of later times, that theſe emanations were the natural cauſe of Divination by Dreams, when and where there was a diſpoſition in the ſubject for reception or impreſſion: which was, when and where reaſon had leaſt force, as in Sleep, and Trances; and in ſuch perſons where reaſon naturally was weakeſt, and the phanſie ſtrongeſt, as in Women, weak men, Idiots, and the like. Ariſtotle indeed doth not there mention (neither doth Syneſius) other Divination, then that which is by Dreams: but there being the ſame reaſon, I take it as generally intended by him; or at leaſt appliable to any other kind, whereof queſtion may be made, whether natural or ſupernatural. I make the more of this opinion, though I propoſe it but as an opinion, becauſe I am very confident that greateſt ſecrets of nature do depend from ſuch kind of natural unſenſible emanations; as might appear by the conſideration of many particulars, and the examination of ſeveral opinions, if it were part of my task. Now from all that hath been ſaid and obſerved hitherto, that which I would inferre, is;

Firſt from thoſe general inſtances, not leſſe to be wondered at, though certainly known and acknowledged to proceed from cauſes that are natural, whether known or unknown, That it is poſſible, if not probable, that ſome Enthuſiaſtick Divination may proceed from naturall cauſes.

Secondly, That ſuch Divination as is concerning natural events, grounded upon natural cauſes, whether known or unknown, may poſſibly proceed from ſome ſuch unſenſible emanations as have been ſpoken of: thoſe emanations at leaſt as probable a cauſe of Divination in Fools and Idiots, as any other that hath been given; as Melancholy may be of ſome kind of Divination in a different temper and diſpoſition.

What elſe may be ſaid in this point agreeable to Ariſtotles doctrine, delivered by him in many places, ſhall be ſhewed when we ſhall treat of the cauſes of Enthuſiaſme in general.

Moſt that have written of Divination, to prove that it proceeds of natural cauſes, inſiſt upon the divination of ſome dying men, upon which they inferre a natural aptitude of the Soul to it when looſe and free from the body. That holy men when near to death, have often propheſied by immediate divine Inſpiration, is not a thing to be diſputed among Chriſtians. But what ſhould make ſome, ordinary men, ſometimes, to foreſee, not the day and hour of their own Departure only, but to foretel the period of ſome other mens lives alſo, whereof there be divers examples both ancient and late: and not to foretell things only that belong to life and death; but ſometimes more generally, many future things, which have proved true by the event: of this, queſtion may be made without offence, whether natural, or ſupernatural. Firſt for emanations; it cannot be doubted, but that long ſickneſſe in general, but eſpecially ſuch and ſuch as may have more particular operation and ſympathy, may ſo affect the body, as to diſpoſe it for the reception or dijudication of ſuch emanations, if the thing foreſeen and foretold be ſuch as may be adſcribed to natural cauſes. But ſecondly, I remember an obſervation in the Author of the Hiſtory of the Council of Trent, that it is natural unto many, dying, out of ſome hidden and ſupernatural cauſe, to fall into a great contempt and loathing of all worldly things and humane affairs. But I know not how far I may truſt my memory. For I have not the book at this time. The words (the beſt ſatisfaction I can give to the Reader,) in which I have entred it many yeares ago, when I firſt read it, into my Adverſaria, are theſe; [P. 758. that refers to the Latin Tranſlation, printed in Germany in 4o.] [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] ſolemne in confinio mortis poſitis, res humanas ex ignota quadam & ſupernaturali cauſa faſtidire. Now ſuch a faſtidium we know, is an effect, as of greateſt wiſdome and religion often; ſo ſometimes of pure melancholy, which would bring us to Ariſtotles opinion of the effects of atra bilis before ſpoken of. But I have met with an obſervation of Aretaeus, an ancient Phyſician long before Galen, which I think very conſiderable in this place. Aretaeus doth affirme, that they that are ſick in the heart ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], which is a very general word, but more particularly intended of thoſe that labour of a ſyncope,) have their external ſenſes more quick; that they ſee better, and hear better; that their mind is better ſettled, and their hearts more pure. and not only ſo, but that the ſame do foretell many future things alſo with great certainty. It is much againſt my will, that I muſt take any thing upon truſt; I ſee very learned men ſo often deceived by it; but this I do: Hieron. Mercurialis is my Author, in his Variae Lectiones; where you may find it, and the Authors own words. I would not give any occaſion of offence, by mixing impertinently and unſeaſonably things natural and ſupernatural, that is, heaven and earth: But who can read thoſe words of that ancient Author, (eſpecially if compared with Galens, who hath almoſt the ſame of the vulnerati corde, but that he doth not go ſo far as Divination,) but will think of Eſays words 57. v. 15. For thus ſaith the high and lofty One, &c.^[18] But this by the way only. Plinie in his Natural Hiſtorie witneſſeth of his time, that Plena vita eſt his vaticiniis; that is, that ſuch Propheſies of dying men happened very frequently: which nevertheleſſe he profeſſeth to make no great reconing of, becauſe for the moſt part falſe. Whereof he doth give a very notable inſtance of one Gabienus, in the time of the Civil warres. It may be read in him: and I am confident that he made choice of that inſtance among many, as of a thing that was generally known, and indoubtable.

^[19] Multos nemora ſylvaeque, multos amnes aut maria commovent; quorum furibunda mens videt ante multo quae futura ſunt; ſaith Tully. That the ſight of vaſt objects, as rocks and mountains, and wild proſpects, and the attent conſideration of ſome natural object in a ſolitary place, doth diſpoſe ſome men to Ecſtaſie, that is, tranſport their thoughts beyond their ordinary limits, and doth raiſe ſtrange affections in them, I know to be moſt true: and if any ſhould affect ecſtatical raptures, or alienation of mind, it is like enough that by the uſe of ſuch means, with the concurrence of ſome others, as ſome kind of Muſick, (to ſuch as are of that temper,) they might be procured. But that any true Divination, or foretelling of things future, would follow upon it, I am not very apt to believe, neither do I know any reaſon for it.

However, I think that man that can enjoy his natural wit and reaſon with ſobriety, and doth affect ſuch raptures and alienations of mind, hath attained to a good degree of Madneſſe, without rapture, which makes him ſo much to undervalue the higheſt gift of God, (Grace excepted, which is but a perfection of Reaſon, or a reformation of corrupt Reaſon;) ſound Reaſon. It made Ariſtotle deny that any Divination, either by Dreams or otherwiſe, was from God, becauſe not Ignorant only, but Wicked men alſo were obſerved to have a greater ſhare in ſuch, then thoſe that were noted for either Learning or Piety. And truly, I think it is not without ſome providence of God that it ſhould be ſo; that thoſe whom God hath bleſſed with wiſdome, and a diſcerning ſpirit, might the better content themſelves with their ſhare, and be the more heartily thankfull. And in very deed, ſound Reaſon and a diſcerning ſpirit is a perpetual kind of Divination: as alſo it is ſomewhere called in the Scriptures. I could ſay much more: but it is not my Theme here, and I ſhall have a better opportunity, in the next Chapter, to ſay ſomewhat of the excellency of Reaſon in matter of True Propheſie.

CHAP. III. Of Contemplative and Philoſophicall Enthuſiaſme.

The Contents.

Contemplation; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: the happineſſe of God, (and thence the Greek word,) according to Ariſtotle: The chiefeſt pleaſure of man in this life, according to divers of the Epicurean Sect. Lucretius the Poet, and Hippocrates the firſt of Phyſicians, their testimonies. Plato and Philo Jud. their Philoſophy. ¶ The dependance of External Senſes on the Mind: their operation ſuſpended by the intention of it; as particularly, that of Feeling: and the uſefulneſſe of this knowledge, for the preſervation of publick peace, and of whole Kingdomes, ſhewed by a notable inſtance out of Thuanus. ¶ Ecſtaſis; the word how uſed by the Ancients: how by later writers. The words of S. Mark 3. v. 21. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], for they ſaid, &c. vindicated from a wrong and offenſive interpretation. Some cautions inſerted to prevent (in that which follows) offenſe by miſtake. Ecſtaſ[••] taken for a totall ſuspenſion of all ſenſitive powers, the effect ſometimes of Contemplation, and earneſt intention of the mind. Enthuſiastick Deluſions incidental to natural Ecſtaſies, and bodily diſtempers, proved by many examples, both old (out of Tertullian, &c.) and late; one very late, in Suſſex. This matter how ſubject to be miſtaken, even by men judicious otherwiſe, through ignorance of natural cauſes. One notable inſtance of it. The power of the Phanſie in Ecſtaſies, and other diſtempers of body againſt Reaſon, and perfect (but in ſome one object) Ʋnderſtanding; argued by reaſon, and proved by many examples and inſtances. A ſure way to avoid the danger of Enthuſiaſtick Illuſions, out of Tertullian, Not to ſeek after New Lights, &c. A caveat concerning the caſe of Witches: their actions real, not imaginary. ¶ Several queſtions propoſed, and fully diſcuſſed by reaſons and authorities. Firſt, whether a Voluntary Ecſtaſie be a thing poſſible in nature. Giraldus Cambrenſis, and his Enthuſiaſts: Merlins Turkiſh Enthuſiaſts. The Meſſaliani, or Prayers, ſo called anciently. A conſideration concerning the nature of their diſtemper, whether contagious or no. Secondly, Whether in Natural, or Supernatural and Diabolical Extaſies there be, or may be (without a Miracle,) a real ſeparation of the Soul from the Bodie. Thirdly and laſtly, (after a diſtinction of ſight internal, and external,) Whether long Contemplation and Philoſophy may tranſforme a man into an Angelical nature, and unite him unto God in an extraordinary manner, by communion of ſubſtance, &c. ¶ That Myſtical Theology, highly commended by ſome Chriſtians as the moſt perfect way, ſhewed to be the invention of Heathen Philoſophers. Dionyſius Areopagita, the first broacher of it amongſt Chriſtians, by ſome new arguments out of Theophraſtus, Syneſius, &c. further evinced a Counterfeit. ¶ A Relation concerning Viſions and Enthuſiaſms that happened to a Nun in France ſome years ago, examined: and thoſe Viſions and Revelations, againſt the judgement of divers eminent men of France, maintained to be the effects of nature merely. Immoderate voluntary Pennances and bodily Chastiſements no certain argument of true Mortification and Piety. ¶ Maximus the Monk and Confeſſor his writings: Eunapius Of the life of Philoſophers: paſſages out of them vindicated from wrong tranſlations. The Author of the New Method: and the beginnings of Mahometiſme.

THe word in Greek for Contemplation is [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. the reaſon of which word may be, either becauſe the higheſt object of mans Contemplation is God; ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in Greek;) or becauſe as perfect happineſſe doth moſt properly belong unto God, ſo doth Contemplation, wherein his happineſſe doth chiefly conſiſt; as by Ariſtotle is excellently well, to the utmoſt of what could come from mere man, in his Ethicks and elſewhere, diſputed and declared. Who alſo doth thereupon well inferre, that as that man muſt needs be accounted moſt happy that is likeſt unto God, ſo the chiefeſt happineſſe of man alſo muſt needs conſiſt in Contemplation. Hence it is (for I go no further then humane reaſon here, I determine nothing my ſelf,) that your refined Epicures, in profeſſion Epicures, becauſe they maintained that pleaſure was the end (or ſummum bonum) of man; but in their particular tenets, and in their lives too, ſome of them, upon this ground, that there was not any true laſting pleaſure but in the exerciſe of vertue, and peace of Conſcience, (of which argument you may read an epiſtle of one of that profeſſion, among Cicero's ad Familiares, lib. 15.19.) not inferior to the beſt of Philoſophers; theſe refined Epicures, that propoſed unto themſelves no other end but their own pleaſure and contentment of mind, divers of them, willingly bereaved themſelves of all other ſenſual pleaſures, contemned the pomp and glory of all worldly wealth and greatneſſe, that they might enjoy the pleaſure of Contemplation. It may ſeem ſtrange to ſome; but it muſt be to them that never had any experience in themſelves of this nobleſt operation of the ſoul, and will believe nothing▪ though atteſted by never ſo many credible witneſſes, that is not ſuitable to their own diſpoſition. I know not in what rank of Epicures I ſhould place Lucrece the Poet: but ſure I am, (and I doubt not but it hath happened unto others as well as unto me;) that ſome of his verſes, ſetting out the happineſſe of ſome kind of contemplation, have had that operation upon me (as often almoſt as I have had occaſion to ride, and wanted other company, till of la[••] years,) as I thought might compare with the higheſt contentments they can brag of, that have no other aim or end in this world, then preſent pleaſure and contentment. The verſes I mean (if any ſhall be ſo curious as to deſi[••] to know,) are thoſe at the beginning of his ſecond book, Suave mari magno, &c. to, Nunc age quo [〈◊〉] tu, &c. I wiſh ſome good Engliſh Poet would take them to task; though I doubt much whether it be poſſible for any traduction to reach the excellen[••] and the elegancie of the original, when the original ha[•] ſo much of both: and better they ſhould not be meddled with at all, then ſpoiled in the tranſlation.

But to leave theſe Epicureans, whoſe very name, becauſe of the major part of that name, (thoſe of later ages eſpecially,) ought to be in deteſtation to all that love vertue and goodneſſe: what man ſo dull and ſtupid, that can read Hippocrates upon this ſubject of philoſophical contemplation, without being affected himſelf, yea tranſported beſides himſelf in ſome meaſure? His whole Epiſtle to Demagetus, conteining his relation and judgement concerning Democritus, who by others generally was conceived mad or phrantick; and his conference with him, wherein the vanity of all humane affairs is ſet out to the life; is in my judgement a very divine piece to that purpoſe. The oftener I read it, the more I am affected with it: but that it is ſtill with ſome ſuſpicion, that the Author of it (no Chriſtian I know) ſhould be later then Hippocrates. But ſince that by very learned men, and beſt verſed in Greek Authors, Phyſicians and others, it is acknowledged a genuine piece, I rather ſubmit to better judgements. In one of his Epiſtles to Philopoemen, having firſt treated of melancholy as the effect of a bodily diſeaſe, he proceeds to melancholy as an effect of learning. Not only (ſaith he) mad men covet Caves and Solitudes; but they alſo that have attained to that ſublimity of mind, as to be above all worldly cares, that they may not be ſubject to any disturbance. For as often as the mind, interrupted in its operation by external objects, would have the body to be ſtill, preſently it betakes it ſelf unto retiredneſſe. There riſing betimes in the morning, as it were, [the morning being the moſt advantagious time for contēplation; whence alſo it is, that the Hebrew word which ſignifieth to ſeek diligently, is taken from the aurora and day-break:] it beholds round about in it ſelf the region of [ſolid] Truth; where neither wife, nor children, nor mother, nor any couſins, or kindred, or ſervants, or any thing elſe of what nature ſoever it be, that can make any trouble are to be ſeen. All things are excluded that can disturb: neither dare they attempt to come, for reverence of thoſe that inhabit there. For there inhabit the Arts and the Vertues: there Gods and ^[20] Angels: there Counſels and Decrees: yea the wide and ample Firmament it ſelf, with all its variety of Starres and Planets of ſeveral motions, by which it is ſo beautifully decked and adorned, is there alſo. I do not expect that all men ſhould be affected with theſe things. I will forbear to enquire into the reaſon, which it may be would be more unpleaſing. They may make a vertue of a defect, that will forbear to read, ſo they forbear to cenſure. As for them that have any curioſity at all for the ſpeculation of Nature, and her wonderfull works; I dare promiſe them that they ſhall find ſomewhat before they come to the end of this Chapter, that may give them better content. But I muſt take my libertie to proceed by degrees; and I am ſure I do not digreſſe from my ſubject.

I have ſaid ſomewhat of Hippocrates: how much more may we of Plato the Philoſopher! whom no man (in ſome principal paſſages) can read in his own language, without ſome paſſion tending to Enthuſiaſme: much leſſe can we think that he could ſo write himſelf, had not he been carried by ſome exceſſe of natural wit and vigor, beyond ordinary men. Certain enough it is, that the ſublimity both of his matter and language, hath been the infatuation of many, who being but weak, adſpired high. It hath happened ſo unto many, not Heathens only, but ſome alſo that made profeſſion of Chriſtianity. And if his Philoſophy hath been a great advantage to Chriſtianity, as ſome ancient Fathers have judged: yet of Chriſtians it hath many Hereticks; and is to this day the common refuge of contemplative men, whether Chriſtians, or others, that have run themſelves beſides their wits: who alſo have not wanted Diſciples, ſtudious and ambitious to vent and propagate the abortive fruits of ſuch depraved phanſies, unto others. Not to ſpeak (as not needful here) of ſome of his expreſſions in his ſublimeſt contemplations: wherein though I can be perſwaded my ſelf, that he intended well; yet it cannot be denied, that he hath given juſt offence to them that are not ſo perſwaded; ſeeming thereby to countenance ſome vices, no leſſe brutiſh and unnatural, then his beſt vertues and abilities have exceeded, or have been thought to exceed ordinary nature. Plato may be read with leſſe danger, and no leſſe pleaſure perchance, in Philo Judaeus; a natural Jew, but a better Platoniſt by far, both for his Stile and his Tenets, then he was a Jew, in point of Faith and Religion. For a taſte of his enthuſiaſtick expreſſions, in imitation of Plato, the Reader that is not better acquainted with him of himſelf, may take, if he pleaſe, his interpretation of thoſe words of Scripture, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]; in his Treatiſe Of the Creation; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. But I would have him read in his own language, or not at all. For beſides that moſt Tranſlations loſe the native grace of the original expreſſions: in ſuch paſſages, (as almoſt all Plato over,) no tranſlation can be made without great obſcuritie; wherewith the underſtanding being perplexed and intangled, the matter muſt needs have leſſe influence (if any at all) upon the heart and affections. Now when the mind is fixed upon any ſuch contemplation, it is frequently ſaid by Greek Authors, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, to be agitated by a divine power, or ſpirit. It is in that place of Philo but now ſpoken of: and it is in Plato too, with ſome others equivalent to that, in his Phaedrus, and elſewhere.

All this while we have inſiſted but upon one effect of Philoſophical Contemplation, intellectual pleaſures and contentments, proceeding from the elevation of the mind above ordinary worldly objects, and fixed upon the contemplation of things natural, and ſupernatural: which Operation of the mind, as we ſaid but now, is by ſome called Enthuſiaſme.

We proceed now to the conſideration of other effects of Contemplation, which by degrees will bring us to the main Controverſie, beyond which nothing (as to this world) can go, concerning the real and actual ſeparation of the ſoul from the body by it: and to ſomewhat above that too, the abſolute transformation of man into God. To make our way more plain to all readers, we ſhall firſt open ſome points, which may be perchance out of the knowledge and conſideration of not a few.

It is a common ſpeech, That our eyes ſee; our ears hear; and the like. There is no need to except againſt it in common uſe: yet Philoſophers and Phyſicians that have looked more nearly into the nature of things, except againſt the propriety of the ſpeech, teaching that, not the eye, but the ſoul through the eye; nor the ear, but the ſoul through the ear; and ſo of other ſenſes. Ariſtotle in his Problems, where he inquireth why the ſenſe of hearing is quicker in the night, among other things, hath ſomewhat to this purpoſe, and alledgeth thoſe words, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], (the mind ſeeth, the mind heareth;) as a common ſpeech. Of the Author of thoſe words, and of his meaning, I have had occaſion to treat elſewhere, which is not needfull here. I ſhall content my ſelf with with two ancient Latin Authors. The firſt here, though later in time, ſhall be Pliny: Animo autem videmus, ammo cernimus; oculi ceu vaſa quaedam, viſibilem ejus partem accipiunt, atque tranſmittunt. Sic magna cogitatio obcaecat, abducto intus viſu. Sic in morbo comitiali, aperti nihil cernunt, animo caligante. The ſecond, Cicero: whom becauſe ſomewhat more large,^[21] though to the ſame effect, I will ſet down in Engliſh. Neque enim eſt ullus ſenſus in corpore, &c. that is; Neither is any ſenſe, truly and really, reſident in the bodie it ſelf: but as not only Naturalliſts, but Phyſicians alſo, who have looked into thoſe places by [anatomical] diſſection, teach; from [the brain] the ſeat of the Soul, there be certain paſſages and conveyances, contrived into ſeveral pipes and chanels, unto the eyes, ears and noſtrils; ſo that ſometimes, either through intention of the mind in a deep ſtudy, or through ſome diſtemper of the body, the influence being ſtopped, though our ears and eyes be both ſound and open, we neither ſee nor hear. Whence is eaſie to be gathered, that it is the mind, or ſoul, that ſeeth and heareth: not thoſe parts of the body, which are but the windowes, as it were, of the ſoul. Lucrece the Poet, oppoſeth this very much, (Dicere porro oculos nullam rem cernere poſſe; Sed per eos animum ut foribus ſpectare recluſis, &c. lib. 3.) but like himſelf; that is, a brutiſh Epicure, who would not have us to believe either Sun or Moon to be bigger then they appear to our eyes, leſt we ſhould in any thing adſcribe more to reaſon, then to ſenſe: and yet elſewhere denieth that the eye was made to ſee, or the ear to hear, &c. (Illud in his rebus vitium vehementer; & illum Effugere errorem, &c. li. 4.) leſt he might ſeem to adſcribe ſomewhat unto providence. Now whether the faculty only, or ſome ſpirits with it, be conveyed into the organs; and why, if the faculty be reſident in the brain, ſome parts of the body that are furtheſt off, are more quick of ſenſe then thoſe neareſt unto the fountain; & other like queſtions, or objections that may be made: I muſt referre to Philoſopers and Anatomiſts.

One queſtion we muſt not omit, becauſe it will concern us. If it be ſo as we have ſaid, that not the eye properly, but the ſoul through the eye ſeeth, heareth, &c. why may not the ſoul, at any time, though the eye be open, forbear to ſee; and the ear open, by inhibiting her influence, hinder her hearing? Such an objection is made by Philo Judaeus: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. Though the mind (or ſoul) ſaith he, lay its command upon the ſight, (or ſenſe of ſeeing) that it ſhould not ſee, it will have its operation nevertheleſſe upon its object: and ſo the hearing, though the ſoul interdict it never ſo ſtrictly, it will hear, if any voice be within the compaſſe of it: ſo the ſmelling, &c. But the matter will eaſily be anſwered. For though it be the ſame ſoul in man, that willeth, and ſeeth; yet the one being a faculty of the ſoul as it is rational, the other, an operation of it as it is ſenſitive; that there ſhould be ſuch a ſubordination, or neceſſary dependance of the ſenſitive faculties, as there is of the loco-motiva (as commonly called,) upon the will, it doth not follow. It is enough, that the opening or ſhutting of the eye dependeth on the immediate command of the will: but for the influence of ſenſe, the ſame Providence that took order for the one, that it ſhould be arbitrary, ſaw not the like reaſon for the other, and therefore took no order for it; which ſhould be reaſon enough to us, why it is not ſo. But if the ſoul intend it purpoſely, and ſhall uſe Art to withdraw its influence, which it cannot by command; as by intent meditation, or the like; if then it may be done, (as we ſhall ſhew it may:) that is enough to prove, that the power of ſenſe is reſident in the ſoul.

But yet let us conſider a while; if it will be worth the while, as I think it will. I find it in Cicero too: Ʋt facile intelligi poſſit, animum & videre & audire, non eas partes quae quaſi ſunt feneſtrae animi: quibus tamen ſentire nihil que at mēs, (which is quite contrary to Philo's aſſertion:) niſi id agat & adſit. He ſeemeth to ſay, that except the mind intend it, though the organs themſelves do their parts, the ſenſe is not accompliſhed. It is not ſo ordinarily, we know: but whether by long uſe and cuſtome, ſome ſuch thing in ſome ſenſes may not be brought to paſſe, I cannot tell. For what ſhall we think of thoſe Lacedemonian boys and girls, (a thing ſo generally atteſted by ſo many Chriſtians, as well as Heathens:) that would not onely play, prattle, and quarrel with one another in their play, but alſo keep their countenances without any the leaſt appearance of change; whilſt their backs were torn with unmercifull whips and ſcourges? Which were uſed ſo long ſometimes, and ſo cruelly, that ſome were known to die in the exerciſe (for it was accounted no other:) very really, before it could be diſcerned that they ſmarted. Which made the Stoick Philoſophers to maintain, (which alſo ſome of them confirmed by experience made upon their own bodies,) that pain was but opinion: and Galen alſo to maintain againſt Ariſtotle, (I ſhall name my Author by and by:) that ſenſus non eſt mutatio quae fit in inſtrumento, ſed à mutationis cognitione provenire.

I am very well pleaſed with the occaſion that offers it ſelf, that the Reader may the better be ſatisfied, how neceſſary the knowledge of theſe things is, not for the ſatisfaction of curioſity only, but even for the maintenance of publick peace. In the year of the Lord 1599. was brought to Paris in France a certain maid named Martha, (we had one before of that very name, and not unlike profeſſion, out of Plutarch:) which was ſuppoſed to be poſſeſſed. She did many things to make the world think ſo. Strange geſtures and convulſions, or convulſive motions rather, ſhe had at command, and ſometimes ſhe was heard to ſpeak ſtrange Languages: but that was but ſometimes and ſparingly; which gave occaſion of ſuſpicion that ſhe was a counterfeit. One thing ſhe was very perfect at: She would endure pins and needles to be thruſt in at the fleſhy parts of her neck, or arms, and never ſeem to feel it. All the Phyſicians in Town, that were accounted of any ability, were imployed about it, to find out the truth. but being much divided in their judgements themſelves, how ſhould others be certainly reſolved? The Monks and Friers were very zealous that ſhe might be accounted poſſeſt, as thinking thereby to get great honour to their Exorciſms, and to give a great blow (their own profeſſion: I have a good Author for it:) to the Hereticks, who deſpiſed them: by which Exorciſms though they could not, (having often tried,) diſpoſſeſſe her; yet becauſe the ſuppoſed Devil ſhewed himſelf very impatient at the hearing of them, they thought that conviction enough, untill more could be done; which certainly would have been the end, if things had been carried with more moderation. But the whole City being ſo divided about it, that a dangerous uprore was daily expected, and a worſe conſequent upon that feared; ſo that the King and his Councel were glad to interpoſe with all their power, and all little enough to prevent it: the concluſion was, that Martha was found to be a mere counterfeit. Yet herein the Pope muſt have his due commendation. For to Rome ſhe was had by no mean perſons, that intended notable feats with her, and perchance no leſſe (ſo much was feared at leaſt; and a leſſe thing hath done it, we know, in ſome Kingdomes:) then the ſubverſion of a whole Kingdome. But the Popes impartiall carriage in the buſineſſe brake the neck of the plot, for which ſome of the chief contrivers, though they eſcaped the juſtice of men, yet ſoon incurred the juſt vengeance of God, and through ſhame and vexation of ſpirit came to a ſpeedy death. But before things came to this light, whileſt the Phyſicians at Paris were divided about it into Parties; one Moreſcot did ſet out a book about it, by which he did endeavour to prove that ſhe was a counterfeit, & among other things did very particularly inſiſt upon that point of the Needles, ſhewing that it was not without either preſident in Hiſtory, (by the example of the Lacedemonian boys;) or without grounds of poſſibility in nature; by unfolding the nature of ſenſe, with many curious obſervations upon it. I never ſaw the book.^[22] what I have of it, I have it out of Thuanus, that faithfull and noble Hiſtorian, where alſo the whole ſtory is more particularly to be found. But for that particular of the Lacedemonians, I have had occaſion to treat of it, and of divers other examples of the ſame kind, in another place; from which I think ſo much may very probably be inferred, that where the will is obſtinately bent, (to which kind of ^[23] obstinacy, beſides the advantage of a natural temper in ſome, long uſe is much available;) the ſenſe, if not altogether taken away, yet is nothing near ſo great, or ſo ſharp, as it is in others, where no ſuch preparation is made.

However, in the order that I propoſe unto my ſelf, we are not yet come to that: we ſhall have another place for it afterwards. In the mean time I require no more here, but that intent Contemplation may ſtop the influence, and ſo hinder the operation of ſome one ſenſe. Who is it almoſt, eſpecially if, naturally, in proſecutions ſad and ſerious, that hath not made trial of it in himſelf? As for the ſenſe of Feeling, Eraſmus (whoſe credit, I believe, will hold with moſt for a greater matter,) ſpeaketh of himſelf: Et ipſe ſum expertus in cruciatu dentium aut calculi, ^[24] multo leviorem reddi doloris ſenſum, ſi poſſis animum in aliquam cogitationem alienam intendere. Might we believe Epicurus of himſelf, he tells us very ſtrange things of his Patience, ſhall I ſay? or unſenſibleneſſe in greateſt extremity of bodily pains. He would make us believe, that he was at the height of his Contemplation, when his Diſeaſe was come to its height. Were it another, that had more credit with me then Epicurus, I ſhould believe that the intention of his Contemplation, (as in Eraſmus his caſe) might take off the edge of his pains: But Cicero long ago hath well argued it with him,^[25] or againſt him rather; whether it were poſſible that a man of ſuch principles, could afford an example of ſuch patience: to whoſe judgement and determination in this particular, (though I make a great difference between patience, as a vertue, and ſuch reſolution and obſtinacy, which the moſt wicked, yea moſt brutiſh are capable of:) I do adſcribe much more, then to Epicurus his teſtimony concerning himſelf.

This concerning a partial deprivation of ſenſe through natural cauſes, as ſubject to leſſe difficulty, may ſerve: but a total, commonly called Ecstaſie, or Trance, as liable to more both oppoſition and difficulty; ſo ſhall we more largely and punctually inſiſt upon it, both by reaſons, and by examples. But before we enter upon it, I muſt premit ſome cautions, to prevent offence upon miſtake.

Firſt, whereas by our inſcription or indication at the beginning, we profeſſe to treat in this Chapter of Contemplative philoſophical Enthuſiaſme; by Philoſophical we do not intend ſuch as is proper to contemplative Philoſophers only; of which kind ſomewhat hath already, and much more remaineth in the concluſion of all to be ſpoken: but all kind of Enthuſiaſme having any dependance from the intention, or contemplation of the mind: which becauſe moſt proper unto Philoſophers, is therefore deſigned by that name; though incidental unto ſome, who never had to do with any, (more then natural unto all, that are naturally rational,) Philoſophy. If this do not ſatisfie, I deſire that my general title, Of Enthuſiaſme proceeding from natural cauſes, &c. may be remembred: beyond which not to excurre, but where I give an account in ſome petty digreſſion, is my chiefeſt care.

Secondly, whilſt we endeavour to reduce divers ecſtaſies to natural cauſes, the ignorance of which cauſes we ſhall ſhew to have been the cauſe of many evils; we would not be ſuſpected by any, to queſtion the truth and reality of ſupernatural: not only of ſuch, for which having the authority of the Holy Scriptures, no man can denie or queſtion them, except he firſt deny or queſtion the truth and reality of theſe as divine; but alſo of many others, which either good, though not infallible authority, or ſound reaſon, upon due examination of circumſtances, hath commended unto us for ſuch. Except a man will argue, becauſe we do not believe all dreams that are dreamed by all manner of people in any part of the world, (which ſome have maintained,) to be prophetical, that therefore none are from God: or, becauſe precious ſtones may be counterfeited, ſo that the moſt skilfull (^[26] as is noted by ſome,) may ſometimes be deceived, therefore there is no ſuch thing in the world as true Sapphires, or Diamonds.

Thirdly and laſtly, when in matter of diſeaſes, we oppoſe natural cauſes to ſupernatural, whether divine or diabolical; as we do not exclude the general will of God, without which nothing can be; ſo neither the general miniſterie and intervention of the Devil, who, for ought I know, may have a hand in all, or moſt diſeaſes, to which mortal man (through ſin) is naturally liable. But whether it be ſo or no, and by what kind of operation, is a ſpeculation not proper to us here. No man doth ſin, but he is poſſeſt in ſome degree; it is good Divinity: and beſt Philoſophers have maintained, that there was no vice, but was the fruit of madneſſe; and I believe that too to be good Philoſophy; eſpecially ſince I have Hippocrates too his authority for it. However, we make a difference between perſonal immediate poſſeſſion, or operation, which we oppoſe to natural cauſes; and that general concurrence, or intervention of the Devil, which may be ſuppoſed in all that is evil, whether in a moral or natural ſenſe. So much to prevent miſtakes. Now we proceed.

Not to inſiſt upon the ſeveral acceptions of the word ecſtaſis, which are not to our purpoſe; I ſhall only obſerve, that it is uſed by ancient Greek Phyſicians and others, in a much different from the now common uſe and notion. As uſed by ancient Authors, it doth import a diſtraction of the ſenſes, a violent alienation of the mind, nay, violent, but not fixed or ſettled, madneſſe; by which onely it doth differ from it. Such diſtraction of the ſenſes, and ſuch alienation of mind, as may be ſeen in ſome paſſionate men in a fit of Anger. As we read ^[27] of one of the Kings of England, a Prince otherwiſe of excellent parts, and in his ordinary converſation very meek; but in his anger ſo furious, that he would not onely fling and tear whatſoever was in his way, as many others; but ſit upon the ground, pick ſtraws, and do other ſuch acts of a perfect Bedlam. As therefore of Anger it hath been ſaid anciently, that Ira furor brevis eſt: ſo do I find [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in the Author of the [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or Phyſical Definitions, (ſuppoſed by many to be Galen's,) defined, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. However, that the word is alwaies ſo taken by ancient Heathens for a violent Diſtraction, is more then I can ſay. For where Ariſtotle, in De Divin. por inſomnia, upon his former poſition of unſenſible emanations from natural objects, (of which in the former Chapter,) gives a reaſon why ^[28] ſome that fall into Ecſtaſies do propheſie; to wit, becauſe their ſenſes being diſcharged from their own proper operations, they are the more expoſed to external impreſſions: I do not ſee how he could mean it of any ſuch extaſie, where there is a violent diſtraction, ſuch as was in the Pythiae, and other, whether men or women, by whom Oracles anciently were iſſued; as he is interpreted by ſome Latin Commentators: neither was it ſo agreeable to his ſubject, of divination by dreams, to treat of alienation of mind incidental unto men perfectly waking: but very proper and pertinent, to ſay ſomewhat of Ecſtaſies, as the word is now taken commonly; which have great affinity with Sleep, though from cauſes very different.

I take notice of it the rather, to vindicate a place of Scripture from a wrong interpretation, at which many godly men being ſcandalized, ſome have ſtudied evaſions, for which their good will hath been commended by others, more then their good luck, or judgement. It is Mark 3.21. where the Greek, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], is tranſlated in our Engliſh, For they ſaid; he is beſides himſelf. Neither is it in the vulgar Latin better: rather worſe. The Syriack, doubtful. What interpretations, or evaſions rather have been deviſed, may be found in Maldonat and others. The Arabick tranſlation of all others, hath been thought by many learned men to have lighted upon the right ſenſe. For which alſo it hath found great commendations among Tranſlations. It interprets the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] rather, not of madneſſe, but of fainting: which as it is moſt proper to the Story, ſo not improper to the word. For firſt, it appears by the ninth verſe, that Chriſt himſelf, as man, feared that he ſhould ſuffer by exceſſive throng: and by verſe 20. that they had not time to eat. And what more likely in a hot Countrey to cauſe fainting, then a great crowd, and an empty ſtomach? And beſides, that it was ordinary enough in thoſe Countreys for people when they travailed faſting, to faint ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], uſed of trances and ecſtaſies ſometimes,) by the way, may probably be gathered by Matth. 15.32. except we ſhall conceit with ſome, that the people there ſpoken of, had been three dayes without eating: (enough to cauſe faintneſſe in any place:) which as of it ſelf it is improbable; ſo neither can it be collected by any neceſſary conſequence (ſuch as we muſt have, before we come to miracles,) from the words of the Text: but this rather, (as by learned Maldonat is well obſerved,) that having been three dayes already with Chriſt, and ſpent what ſmall proviſion they had brought with them, or could procure in that place, they muſt have gone away faſting; which, unto them eſpecially that had far to go, (which therefore as a conſiderable circumſtance is well ſupplied by S. Mark, ch. 8. v. 3. for divers of them came from far:) would have been of dangerous conſequence. And as for the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], from whence the word ecſtaſis is taken; if ecſtaſis be commonly taken (as at this day,) for a Trance, and was ſo anciently too; I pray what is the difference between a Trance, and a fainting or ſwooning, otherwiſe called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or deliquium, or ſyncope? I do not ſay that there is no difference: but that there is ſo much affinity, that the words may probably be confounded ſometimes, as divers are upon leſſe. I omit what is added by Grotius, and ſome others. I ſhould have thought that leſſe would have ſerved, to have perſwaded them that are not very contentious. But I will judge no man. I wiſh heartily that that Tranſlation were corrected in all Bibles. I would not have it believed, ſince there is no need, that Chriſts kindred did believe, or ſuſpect at any time, that he was ecſtatical. They might, I know, believe it, or make as though they believed it, and yet upon no real ground. But why ſhould we give ground to any man (in theſe Anabaptiſtical times eſpecially,) to diſpute it, where the Scripture doth not? If it be objected that the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] is not found in this ſenſe elſewhere, in the Old or New Teſtament; the weakneſſe of this objection may appear, if it be remembred, as by divers upon ſeveral occaſions is obſerved, that even in the New Teſtament (not to ſpeak of other ancient Authors and writers of all kind:) there be divers words found, which in ſome one place, and but one, are taken, and ſo commonly expounded, in a very different ſenſe from the more known and uſual. We could ſhew divers examples, if need were.

As for thoſe words, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] I wonder any man ſhould find ground of an argument upon an Accuſative, and not a Genitive, here uſed: whereas it is well known, that the conſtruction is promiſcuous enough: whereof we have an example, Mark 7.3. and Hebr. 4.14. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in the one; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in the other: as by learned men hath been obſerved. The words therefore will afford either: but I make no great matter of it, whether we tranſlate, they went out to hold him up; or, they went out to lay hold on him. They that are in a ſwoon, or ready to drop down through faintneſſe, had need both of outward and inward ſupport: to either of which the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] is very proper. But again 2 Kings, chap. 4. v. 8. we have this very phraſe and conſtruction: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: and ſhe laid hold on him to eat bread. There, Eliſha reſiſted, till the woman uſed ſome kind of force to make him eat: here, the preſſing multitude (verſe 20.) hindred; ſome force muſt be uſed, to get him out of it, that he might be at liberty to eat. It is not improbable: but neither is it neceſſary that we ſhould fly to this. I have been the longer upon it, becauſe of the conſequence, as I apprehended it; and that I thought this a very proper place.

Scaliger's definition of an Ecſtaſie, as we take it commonly, allowed by Sennertus, is; Privatio officiorum animae ſentientis, moventis & intelligentis. very different from the true ſupernatural and divine, properly called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. which they define; Animae abſtractionem à potentiis ſenſitivis, & aliquando etiam intellectualibus, &c. Such ecſtaſies (defined by Scaliger) to be incidentall to natural diſeaſes of the bodie, as Epilepſies and the like, is generally granted by all Phyſicians. As this alſo: That they are commonly accompanied (in the fit) with ſtrange ſights and viſions: ſometimes, without any further effect; which, for diſtinctions ſake, we may call ordinary: but ſometimes leaving impreſſions in the brain, which have their operation out of the fit; ſo that the partie, after he is come to himſelf again, as to his ſenſes and other natural functions, yet is fully perſwaded that his viſions which he had in the fit, were not the natural effects of a bodily diſeaſe, but true and real. By which impreſſions, if ſtrong and fixed, as in ſome, the party becomes often ſubject unto relapſes into ecſtaſies, or ecſtatical fits; though the original cauſe, the epilepſie, or whatever it was, be either cured, or for the preſent, at leaſt, removed: So that what before was the ſymptome of a more general diſtēper, becomes now the proper diſtemper of the brain: which kind we ſhall call, as well we may, extraordinary ecſtaſies. Beſides, a man through mere melancholy may become ecſtatical; and without any direct ecſtaſie, yet liable to the effects of it, ecſtatical impreſſions, and illuſions in the brain. And Phyſicians and Philoſophers obſerve, that there is a double Melancholy: the one that proceeds originally from general diſeaſes; (vitio corporis;) the other, vitio ſolius animi, ut fit in iis qui ex nimia devotione, ſtudio, aut amore melancholici evadunt, to uſe learned Fyenus his words. Now whether with ecſtaſies, or without them; as many as are ſubject to viſions, whether internal or ^[29] external, proceeding from natural cauſes, with a real apprehēſion of certainty & reality, where there is no real ground for either, but mere imagination; ſo many we take into the number of ecſtatical men.

But I will come now to particular examples, by which all that I have ſaid will better be underſtood. I will begin with an example out of Tertullian. There is a ſiſter with us, ^[30] ſaith he (that is, in that particular Church and Congregation which he uſed, whether at Carthage, his own Countrey; or rather at Rome, where he was made prieſt, lived and wrote a long time, till his errors drove him out of it:) at this day, which hath obteined the gift, (or grace) of revelations; which in ecſtaſies of the ſpirit happen unto herin the Church, at the ordinary time of divine Service. She doth (in her fits) converſe with Angels: ſometimes with the Lord himſelf. She doth both hear and ſee things ſecret and myſtical: beholds the hearts of ſome: (or, diſcovers the ſecrets of ſome mens hearts:) & doth ſome cures alſo upon ſome that come to her. Now according as either Scriptures are read, or Pſalms ſung, or Exhortations made, or Prayers uttered; ſo do different viſions offer themſelves unto her. It happened at a time, that I had diſcourſed of the ſoul when this our ſiſter was in the ſpirit. After publick Service, the people being diſmiſſed, when ſhe is wont to relate unto us what ſhe hath ſeen; (for an account of it is diligently kept, and regiſtred, that proof may be made upon occaſion:) Among other things, ſaid ſhe, the ſubſtance of a Soul was ſhewed unto me, and it ſeemed unto me like a ſpirit, &c.

Here we muſt obſerve, that when Tertullian wrote this, he lived yet in the communion of the Catholick Church: and that this particular Congregation he ſpeaks of, is meant of a reputed Catholick and orthodox Congregation. It is true he became a Montaniſt afterwards; or was accounted ſo at leaſt: though in very deed, he never was of his Congregation or belief, generally; but in matter of private revelations only; which he maintained (though not thoſe which Montanus boaſted of,) very fervently: and for it being more roughly then diſcreetly (as S. Jerom judged) dealt with by ſome at Rome, he left them, and ſet up a Congregation of his own, which were called Tertullianiſtae: as S. Auguſtine in his book Of Hereticks doth declare. Neither was he queſtioned about private Revelations, untill Montanus an Arch-villain, with his two Queans that he carried about with him as Propheteſſes, had given ſo much offence. He was not accounted an Heretick for his opinion here maintained in this book De Anima, of the Corporeity of the Soul, in that ſenſe he maintained it: as by S. Auguſt. in more then one place is largely treated.

What made ſo learned a man otherwiſe, to adſcribe ſo much to private revelations, was certainly an exceſſe of Zeal, which he ſhews in all his works, ignorance of natural cauſes, and the opinion he had of the holineſſe and ſinceritie (true enough in ſome perchance, as ſhall be ſhewed afterwards:) of ſome of them, known unto him, that had ſuch viſions, which were taken for divine revelations. We muſt alſo, if we will judge of this example rightly, diſtinguiſh between that which Tertullian upon his own certain knowledge, which no man probably can doubt or queſtion, doth witneſſe; to wit, that ſuch a ſiſter there was, which had ſtrange raptures or trances, a thing ſo publickly done, and ſo often, yea allowed of in a Catholick Church: and that which he writeth upon the credit of others; as that ſhe diſcloſed ſome ſecrets, or did ſome ſtrange cures; which no man is bound to believe, though it might be granted that ſomewhat, either caſually, or by the power of the phanſie, (as afterwards will be ſhewed,) might happen in that kind, without any miracle. It is ordinary: when any thing that is accounted ſtrange, doth happen, and is become the ſubject of publick diſcourſe and inquiſition, there will be ſome found that will adde unto it, to make it more wonderfull, though they have no other end in it but to pleaſe their humour; moſt men naturally, and more women, being pleaſed with nothing more (it is a common obſervation in beſt Hiſtoriographers,) then with the report of ſtrange things, whether falſe or true. Now for the ecſtaſies and viſions of this Soror in Tertullian; I am clearly of opinion, and perchance my reader will be, by that time he hath done with this Chapter, that it was nothing elſe but an effect of devout melancholy: but not without the concurrence perchance of a natural diſpoſition; as a ſtrong phanſie, tender brain; yea and ſome caſual contracted diſpoſition (or indiſpoſition) of the body too, perchance: eſpecially if it were an ancient maid, as that maid is reported by ſome to have been, (virgo vetula, in Thuanus,) by whom learned Poſtellus was infatuated in his old age. However, that it was an effect of melancholy, was the opinion of Franc. Junius, an orthodox Divine of high account among Proteſtants. Fuit autem hoc (in his Annotations upon Tertullian) phantaſma laborantis melancholia, non indita è coelis revelatio. I muſt alſo warn the Reader before I proceed,^[31] that wherein I differ from Baronius in thoſe things I have written of Tertullian upon this occaſion, as I do in ſome, I do it not altogether upon mine own judgement, (though chiefly grounded upon S. Jerom, and S. Auguſtine;) but have alſo the ſame Franc. Junius his authority to oppoſe againſt Baronius, and ſome others. But this is not a place to diſpute it: let this warning ſerve.

I am much deceived, if that fam'd Galinducha in Mauritius the Emperour his time, was not ſuch another as this of Tertullian. Strange things have been written of her. No part of Aeſops, Fables, had it been written for an Hiſtory, can ſeem ſo ſtrange. But neither indeed do thoſe that write of her agree among themſelves; nay, manifeſtly contradict one another. Nicephorus doth exceed all, even the Greek Menologies, in his relation; Simocata, more modeſt; Euagrius, very ſhort: but all agree, (the laſt excepted, who doth only mention her,) in her ecſtaſies: which I believe might be true enough, and that in her fits ſhe might ſee ſuch ſtrange things of heaven and hell, as is uſual unto moſt in thoſe fits. The Reader, if he be ſo curious, may find them that I have named, put together by Raderus the Jeſuite, in his Viridarium Sanctorum ex Menaeis Graec. &c. Aug. Vindelic. 1607. firſt part, or tome, p. 264. &c. One obſervation only I ſhall make upon ſome words of Nicephorus, which perchance were taken, part of them at leaſt, out of ſome truer relation: Haec ſane cum graviter à martyrii aerumnis afficeretur, (I take the words as I find them in Raderus;) urbes circuibat, angelo duce progrediente, neque quicquam medicinae doloribus adhibuit, (theſe be the words) nativis tantum thermarum lavacris uſa. From which words we may very probably collect, that ſhe was much troubled with melancholy; ſince that not only dulcis aquae balnea tepida are commended by phyſicians againſt maniam, uterinam melancholiam, (proper to women;) but the acidulae and thermae, in all hypochondriacal diſtempers: though Sennertus indeed doth not hold the external uſe of the thermae ſo proper, if the diſtempered be lean and exhauſted, (as commonly they are,) as the internal.

Many ſuch we might find perchance in the lives of reputed Saints: but I will inſiſt in ſuch eſpecially, where there is more certainty, and will be leſſe offence.

About the year of the Lord 1581. in Germany, at a place called Aldenburgh, it happened that a Baker, the maſter of a very untoward Boy, upon ſome great provocation, fell upon him with his fiſts, without mercy; upon his head eſpecially; ſo that the Boy fell ſick upon it of an Epilepſie: whereof he had divers terrible fits, and was twelve dayes ſpeechleſſe. Yet after a while thoſe fits abated, and by degrees vaniſhed quite away. But then inſtead of them, he fell into ecſtaſies, in which he would continue two, three, four hours, without either ſenſe or motion. Aſſoon as he was out of a fit, the firſt thing he would do, was to ſing divers ſongs and hymns, (though it was not known that he had ever learned any,) very melodiouſly. From this ſinging he would now and then paſſe abruptly to ſome ſtrange relations, but eſpecially of ſuch and ſuch, lately dead, whom he had ſeen in Paradiſe: and then fall to ſinging again. But when he was perfectly come to himſelf, and had left ſinging, then would he ſadly and with much confidence maintain. That he had been, not upon his bed, as they that were preſent would make him believe; but in heaven with his Heavenly Father, having been carried thither by Angels, and placed in a moſt pleaſant green, where he had enjoyed exceſſive happineſſe, and had ſeen things that he could not expreſſe; &c. The ſame Boy when he foreſaw his fit coming upon him, he would ſay, that now the Angels were ready to carry him away. There were divers relations made of him at that time: but that which I have here, I have it from Joh. Coboldus, a Doctor of Phyſick of the ſame Town: Divers Epiſtles of whom, both of his judgement, and of the particulars in point of relation, are to be ſeen in a book intituled Hiſtoria admiranda & prodigioſa Apolloniae Schrierae &c. containing ſeveral relations concerning certain perſons, maids eſpecially, in ſeveral ages and places, but of late years & in Germany chiefly; which after diligent obſervation made by learned Divines and Phyſicians, and long cuſtody in the hands, or by the appointment of Magiſtrates, have been known, & approved to live divers years without either eating or drinking; ſet out by one Paul. Lentulus, a Doctor of Phyſick, printed Bernae Helvetiorū, an. dō. 1604. Thuanus alſo in his Hiſtory, hath moſt of them, with ſome notable particulars, not found in this Collection: not to mention Phyſicians, as Sennertus, Quereetanus, and others, who write of the ſame. But to return to the Boy: That learned Doctor his opinion there is, that they were ſymptomata morbi melancholici, occaſioned by the Epilepſie. For that it is natural to thoſe that have been epileptical, to fall into melancholy, beſides his own experience, he proves out of Hippocrates. But becauſe this Boy beſides his viſions, was alſo reported, and believed commonly, to propheſie many things: the Doctor doth acknowledge himſelf poſed in that, and profeſſeth to doubt, that beſides Nature, there might be ſome operation of the Devil concurring. Wherein nevertheleſſe he ſeemeth afterwards to have altered his opinion, and to adſcribe all partly to Nature, (Ecſtaſies and Viſions,) and partly (Propheſies,) to Art and Impoſture: not only becauſe the Boy had alwaies been an arrant Rogue, (for his age,) and very ſubtle and cunning; but alſo becauſe when he was removed to another houſe, and more carefully watched, his propheſies did vaniſh; yea and his ecſtaſies too, (after a while) as he ſeemeth to intimate.

In the ſame book there is another relation of an ecſtaticall Maid in Friburg (in Miſnia; for there is another Friburg in Helvetia, and a third too, elſewhere;) with the judgement of Paulus Eberus, a Lutheran Divine, a man of great fame in thoſe dayes. It doth not appear that this maid had any diſcoverable epilepſie at all, but began at the very firſt with ecſtaſies and viſions. After her fits, ſhe was ful of religious diſcourſe, moſt in the nature of Sermons, and godly Exhortations: ſo that ſhe was generally apprehended to be inſpired, and her ſpeeches were publiſhed in print, under the name of divine Propheſies and Warnings. Paulus Eberus was much againſt it: and though he durſt not, againſt the publick voice, affirm that there was nothing of Gods ſpirit in all that ſhe ſaid; yet in effect, he doth plainly enough declare his judgement to be, that the maid did laborare epilepſia, &c. that her ecſtaſies were epileptical fits, but of a more gentle and remiſs kind of Epilepſie then is ordinary: and as for her godly ſpeeches, that they were the effects of a godly education, frequent hearing of the Word, intent and aſſiduous meditation, and the like. which it ſeems, upon diligent enquirie, he had found to be her caſe. This happened in the year of the Lord 1560.

Before I proceed further, I will here inſert ſomewhat, that happened among us here very lately. In September laſt, on the fifteenth day, there was a Court kept at a place called Boſam, not above one mile or two from Chicheſter in Suſſex: where a worthy Gentleman, and my very good friend, is Steward to the right Honourable (to whom I wiſh all increaſe of Honour, that his noble and vertuous mind, whereof my ſelf have had ſome experience, doth deſerve:) GEORGE BERKLEY. I happened to be there: and ſaw there, before I went away, and ſpake with him, one John Carpenter, of the ſame pariſh and tything, where I now dwell and write, between a Yeoman and a Labourer. I obſerved no alteration at all in the man, having had in the Sommer moneths often occaſion to ſpeak with him, about ſome commodities which he ſold, and I wanted, for winter proviſion. The very next day in the morning a daughter of his was at my door; though not to ſpeak with me, but with ſome others in the houſe. I happened to open her the door, and obſerving by her eyes and ſpeech, that ſhe was troubled, I inquired and underſtood by her, that ſhe was ſent to procure ſome body to go to the Miniſter of the Pariſh; her father (ſhe ſaid) not being ſick bodily, but talking very ſtrangely of ſtrange things that he had ſeen ſo that they could not tell what to make of it. After that the maid had done her errand, & was gone; although I have been very carefull ever ſince I came hither, not to meddle with any buſineſſes of the Pariſh; but eſpecially not with any thing that belongeth to a ſpiritual charge, wherein I know how much it concerned my peace and quietneſſe not to intermeddle: yet partly charity, (becauſe the Miniſter lived in another Pariſh, at ſome diſtance:) & partly curioſity, led me towards the houſe. When I was come near, before I would go further, I ſent one of purpoſe to know who were there, and whether my coming would be well taken. Whereupon ſome coming out to me, and deſiring me, I went with them, and found the man in a low room walking. I obſerved nothing, not even then, either in his eyes, or voice, or motion, either ſo quick, or ſo loud, that ſeemed extraordinary. Aſſoon as I was come in, after ſome expreſſions of his good acceptation of my preſence, he began a relation of viſions and raptures, to this effect: That in the night, God had taken him under the arm, (wherein he was very punctual in all the particulars:) and firſt had lift him to heaven, where he had ſeen the joys of Paradiſe, the glory of God, &c. then carried him to hell, where he had ſeen ſuch and ſuch things. He was very plentifull of diſcourſe to that purpoſe: but my mind was ſo intent upon the general, that I did not much heed particulars: neither indeed did I then think that I ſhould ever have this occaſion, to remember any thing that he had ſaid. And it is obſervable, that even the night before, by his relation to his wife and children in the morning, he had had the ſame phanſies, or very like. He expreſſed much ſenſe of his former errours of his life, and as much joy that God had been ſo gracious unto him; not for himſelf only, but for others alſo; not doubting but many thouſands (thoſe very words he uſed,) would be converted unto God by his miniſtery and revelations. This he ſpake ſo zealouſly, that he fell upon his knees in the middle of the room, to give God thanks, but roſe again very ſoon of his own accord. I commended his zeal and good intentions for others, congratulated unto him the good uſe that he had made of what had happened unto him for the comfort of his own ſoul. But when I endeavoured, as gently as I could, to make him underſtand that he was in ſome diſtemper of body, which would require ſome help; he had not patience to hear me; wondred at my incredulity, if I miſtruſted the truth of his relations, or the power of God; and began by degrees to be ſo hot and earneſt, that I judged it altogether impertinent to reaſon with him any longer. And becauſe I knew the man was no contemplative man, by his profeſſion, nor obſerved ſo zealous in point of religion, above others, in his life, that this could probably happen unto him (in which caſe, though his melancholy would have been more incurable, yet his life in leſſe danger:) through pure contemplative melancholy: I concluded with my ſelf, that it was an effect of ſome great bodily diſtemper, which would in time ſhew it ſelf. To that purpoſe I ſpake with his wife by her ſelf, (out of his ſight, I mean, but in the preſence of ſome others,) and earneſtly adviſed her ſpeedily to repair to ſome Phyſician: for that her husband, I thought, though little ſign of it yet, would be very ſick; and that I feared he would before long be very outragious, and would want good keeping, both for his own, and their ſafety that ſhould be about him. This is all the ſight I had of the man ſince his diſtemper, whileſt he was yet to be ſeen. Only the next day I met his wife in the ſtreet caſually, very ſad: and was again very earneſt with her, that ſhe would do ſomewhat ſpeedily, and loſe no time. What ſhe did, or any others that had to do with him, I cannot give an account. It was reported, that they had given him ſome ſtrong water, to comfort his heart and ſtrengthen his brain: but I have heard it denied. On the third day, being a Sunday, or Lords day, a woman was ſent for, which was reported to have good skill, and to have done ſome cures upon ſome, committed unto her in the like caſe. She would ſpeedily have let him bloud, as I have heard, (for by this he was grown very outragious and violent,) and plyed him with other things which ſhe judged proper to his caſe, to allay his heat, procure ſleep, &c. But ſome of the good women of the Pariſh, that were there met together, (of the inferior ſort,) had, according to their learning and wiſdome, concluded among themſelves, that the poor man was poſſeſt; and conſequently, that if the woman did take upon her to drive out Devils, ſhe muſt be a witch: that they muſt not loſe a ſoul (O wiſdomes!) to ſave a body. Certain it is, that the woman was driven out of the houſe, (though ſhe lay in the Pariſh that night,) by their inſolent language and carriage: and as certain, that the poor man, being in a high fever, and having ſpent himſelf in ſuch violent actions and ſpeeches, as are uſual to men in that caſe, having none about him but thoſe that were imployed to hold him, and to give him drink as often as he called for it, died that very night.

But for ignorant people to be bold and confident, and in their confidence to deceive themſelves and others, is no wonder at all, a man had need but open his eyes, to ſee ſuch ſights at every door. That which I (not without ſome indignation ſometimes) have wondered at, is; that even learned men, yea men of great fame and credit in the world for their parts and performances in other kinds, have in this particular of Ecſtaſies and Raptures, been ſo apt in all ages to be gulled. We had an example before in Tertullian, in whom it might ſeem the more wonderfull, becauſe himſelf had obſerved it of ſome others (lapſed into hereſie by it) before him, and condemned them for it. We might find divers inſtances, with little ſeeking, if need were. but of all that I have read or known in that kind, I ſhall pitch upon one above the reſt, and make ſome obſervations upon it, which may be of ſome uſe. That contemplative men, wiſe and ſober otherwiſe, ſhould become ecſtatical themſelves, being ſubject to all infirmities incidental to fleſh and bloud, as well as others; and by their authority (though in that caſe, not to be accounted the ſame men as before,) ſhould deceive others of leſſe learning and judgement, is no ſtrange thing: but that any ſober, wiſe, and learned, whilſt ſober, wiſe, and learned, ſhould at any time be liable to the deluſions of ignorant and ſilly people, is not ſo eaſie to be believed by them that do not know, that all ſciences have their bounds; and that it is very poſſible, that a man ſhould excel in ſome one, or more faculties, who yet may be very defective in ſome other knowledge, not leſſe neceſſary perchance, though leſſe regarded, or known. I ſhall be beholding to a Jeſuit for the relation, to whom we are beholding for many other relations, wherein he hath approved his fidelity unto many. But however, there is no ground of ſuſpicion in this relation, why we ſhould like it the worſe becauſe it comes from a Jeſuite. Joſephus Acoſta is the man; a Spaniard by birth: among whom I believe, if not ſuch examples, yet raptures and ecſtaſies in general, becauſe naturally devout and contemplative, to be frequent enough. I ſhall ſet down his words at large, partly becauſe of the obſervation I intend upon them, to give the Reader the better ſatisfaction; and partly becauſe I doubt that the book is not ſo ordinarily known among us.

There was (ſaith Acoſta, ^[32]) in this very Kingdome of Peru (where himſelf was once Praepoſitus Generalis,) a man of great eſteem in thoſe dayes, a learned Divine, and Profeſſor (or Doctor) of Divinity. The ſame alſo accounted religious and orthodox: yea in a manner, the Oracle, for his time, of this other world, [America.] This man being grown familiar with a certain muliercula [or, plain woman,] which as another Philumena, or Maximilla that Montanus carried about, boaſted of her ſelf, that ſhe was taught by an Angel certain great mysteries; and would alſo fall, (or feign it at leaſt) into trances and raptures, which carried her quite beſides her ſelf: he was at laſt ſo bewitched and captivated by her, that he did not stick to referre unto her concerning higheſt points of Divinity; entertain her anſwers, as Oracles; blaze her abroad, as a woman full of revelations, and very dear unto God; though in very deed a woman, as of mean fortune, ſo of as mean a capacitie otherwiſe, except it were to forge lies. This woman then, whether really poſſeſt of the Devil, which is moſt likely, becauſe of thoſe ecstaſies; or whether ſhe acted it with art and cunning, as ſome learned men ſuſpected; becauſe ſhe told him ſtrange things concerning himſelf, that ſhould come to paſſe, which his phanſie, made yet greater: he did certainly the more willingly apapply himſelf unto her, to be her diſciple, whoſe ghoſtly Father he had been before. To be ſhort; he came at laſt to that, that he would take upon himſelf to do miracles, and did verily think that he did, when in very deed there was no ground at all for any ſuch thought. For which, and for certain propoſitions contrary to the Faith, he had received from his Propheteſſe, he was at laſt, by order of the Judges of the holy Inquiſition, to the great aſtoniſhment of this whole Kingdome, apprehended, and put in priſon: where for the ſpace of five years he was heard, tolerated, examined: until at laſt his incomparable pride and madneſſe was made known unto all men. For whereas he pretended with all poſſible confidence and pertinacy, that he had a private Angel, of whom he learned whatſoever he deſired; yea, that he had been intimate with God himſelf, and conferred with him perſonally: he would utter ſuch fopperies as none would believe could proceed from any that were not ſtark mad: yet in very truth, the man was in perfect ſenſe, as to ſoundneſſe of brain; as perfect as I my ſelf can think my ſelf, at this time now writing of him. Very ſadly and ſoberly therefore he would affirm, that he ſhould be a King: yea, and Pope too; the Apoſtolical Sea being tranſlated to thoſe parts: as alſo that holineſſe was granted unto him above all Angels, and heavenly hoaſts, and above all Apoſtles: yea that God had made profer unto him of hypostatical union, but that he refuſed to accept of it. Moreover, that he was appointed to be Redeemer of the world, as to matter of efficacy: which Chriſt, he ſaid, had been no further then to ſufficiency only. That all Eccleſiaſtical eſtate was to be abrogated; and that he would make new laws, plain and eaſie, by which the Coelibatus (or reſtraint of Marriage) of Clergie-men ſhould be taken away, multitude of wives allowed, and all neceſſity of confeſſion avoided. Theſe things, and other things of that nature he would affirme with ſuch earneſt confidence, as we were all amazed, that any man could be in his right wits that held ſuch opinions. In fine, after the examination of his actions, and heretical propoſitions, to the number of a hundred & ten and upwards, either heretical all, or at leaſt not agreeable to the ſound doctrine of the Church; as the manner of that High Court is, we were appointed to diſpute with him, if poſſibly we might reduce him to ſobriety. We were three in all, beſides the Biſhop of Quinto, that met before the Judges about it. The man being brought in, did plead his cauſe with that liberty & eloquence of ſpeech, that I ſtand amazed to this day, that mere pride ſhould bring a man unto this. He acknowledged that his Doctrine, becauſe above all humane reaſon, could not be proved but by Scripture, and Miracles. As for Scripture; that he had proved the truth of it by teſtimonies taken from thence, more clear and more pregnant, then ever Paul had proved Jeſus Chriſt to be the true Meſſias by. As for Miracles; that he had done ſo many and ſo great, that the Reſurrection of Chriſt it ſelf was not a greater Miracle. For that he had been dead verily and truly, and was riſen again; and that the truth of it had been made apparent unto all. All this while, though he had never a book in the Priſon, ſo that even his Breviary was taken away from him, he did quote places of Scripture out of the Prophets, the Apocalyps, the Pſalms, and other books, ſo many and ſo long, that his very memory cauſed great admiration. But theſe places he did ſo apply to his phanſies, and did ſo allegorize them, that any that heard him must needs either weep or laugh. But laſtly, if we did yet require Miracles, that he was ready to be tried by them. And this he ſpake as either certainly mad himſelf, or accounting us all mad. For that by revelation it was come to his knowledge, he ſaid, that the Sereniſſimus John of Auſtria was vanquiſhed by the Turks upon the Seas: that Philip the moſt puiſſant King of Spain, had loſt moſt part of his Kingdome: that a Council was held at Rome, about the depoſition of Pope Gregory, and another to be choſen in his place. That he told us theſe things, whereof we had had certain intelligence, becauſe we might be ſure that they could not be known unto himſelf, but by immediate divine revelation. All which things, though they were ſo falſe that nothing could be more, yet ſtill were they affirmed by him, as certainly known unto us. But at last, having diſputed with him two dayes to no effect at all, being led out, with ſome others (as the faſhion is in Spain) to be made a publick Spectacle; he ceaſed not to look up to Heaven, expecting (as it ſeems the Devil had promiſed him,) that fire would come to conſume both Inquiſitors, and Spectators all. But in very deed, no ſuch fire came from above; but a flame came from below, which ſeized upon this pretended King, and Pope, and Redeemer, and new Law-giver, and quickly did reduce him into aſhes.

In this relation, the firſt thing I ſhall take notice of, which to me ſeemeth very ſtrange, is, that neither Acosta himſelf, nor any of thoſe grave men and Judges by him mentioned, did ſeem to know, that there is a ſober kind of diſtraction or melancholy: not ſuch only wherein the brain is generally affected to all objects equally; never outragious, nor out of reaſon, as it were, to outward appearance; but alſo where the diſtemper is confined to ſome one object or other, the brain being otherwiſe very ſound and ſober upon all other objects and occaſions. I need not go ſo farre as Ariſtotle for an inſtance, though to be found in him, or at leaſt, in that book that beareth his name, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. which by Horace,

—Fuit hand ignobilis Argis,

Qui ſe credebat, &c.—

is very elegantly rendered in Latin verſes. We need not go ſo farre, either for an inſtance, or for his authority: there is not any Phyſician, either ancient or late, that treateth of Melancholy, but doth both acknowledge it, and hath ſeveral examples. Laurentius in his treatiſe of melancholick diſeaſes, hath one whole Chapter of examples, whereof ſome were of his owne time and knowledge. As that of a Noble-man, that otherwiſe had his ſenſes very perfect, and would diſcourſe (as Laurentius obſerveth) of any ſubject very rationally; but that he was perſwaded that he was glaſſe; would keep himſelf ſtill in a chair: and though he loved to be viſited, yet was very much afraid of his friends, when they came to him, leſt they ſhould come too near him. And of another, a Poet, yet then alive when he wrote, and not yet cured, who was perſwaded that all men that came near him, ſmelt of a certain ointment that had been uſed about him in a fever, to make him ſleep; which he did ever ſince extremely deteſt and abhorre: inſomuch that no man might ſpeak to him, but at a diſtance: and if any man had touched him, he would caſt away his cloaths, and never wear them again. Yet in all other things, ſaith my Author, very rational, and as good a Poet as ever. Fyenus alſo out of divers Authors, hath divers examples in his Treatiſe De viribus imaginationis. Sennertus treats of it, lib. 1. part. 2. c. 8. de melancholia in genere: wherein Aretaeus, an ancient Phyſician, his words are, In melancholia, in una re aliqua est lapſus; conſtante in reliquis judicio. He hath a merry example out of Huartus his Examen de Ingen. of one, a noble mans foot-boy in Italy, that thought himſelf a Monarch. But Laurentius, in the forenamed Treatiſe and Chapter, profeſſeth to forbear of purpoſe ſuch inſtances, becauſe ſo common and obvious. Indeed, I remember to have read in Antony du Verdier his Divers Readings, two notable examples: the one of an ordinary ſerving-man, that thought himſelf Pope; the other of a Groom, that belonged to an Italian Noble-man, who thought himſelf Emperour, and at a certain hour of the day would lock himſelf in a chamber privately, there place himſelf in a chair of State, ſuch as himſelf had erected to that purpoſe, give anſwers to Embaſſadours of ſeveral Nations, make ſpeeches upon divers ſubjects, (ſome of which ſpeeches were taken clancularly, there inſerted;) and perform many other acts to the ſame purpoſe. I my ſelf in my life time, have known one, (yet alive for ought I know,) who upon apprehenſion of great wrong done unto him by ſome in Authority, fell into ſome hypochondriacal conceits much of that nature. ſober and diſcreet otherwiſe, in all his converſation: only upon that ſubject he would be very earneſt; and if oppoſed, grow fierce. A man might have converſed with him long enough, before he ſhould have diſcovered any thing; for he was purpoſely very reſerved▪ and except a man had been acquainted with his caſe by others, not apt of himſelf to fall upon it: ſo much command he had of himſelf, notwithſtanding his melancholy. But I knew him very familiarly, and therefore can ſpeak of him with more confidence. I mentioned Ariſtotle, at the beginning, concerning Melancholy confined to a particular Object. Though I did not think it needfull to make uſe of his inſtance; yet that inſtance of his puts me in mind of a ſtrange caſe, not unworthy to be related: of a kind of tragical, or poetical Melancholy, that is reported to have happened unto many together, almoſt to a whole town, at one time. Lucian is my Author, a man otherwiſe not very apt to believe ſtrange things: a right Infidel in moſt things▪ as well to all Natures wonders, as to ſupernatural and divine. And he tells it in good earneſt, in a very ſerious diſcourſe of his, Of the conditions of a true Hiſtory, at the very beginning of it. Moſt of the town Abdera (in Greece) in ſuch a mans reign, as is there expreſſed, fell into a kind of Fevers at one time. At the ſeventh day, ſome bleeding at the noſe, ſome ſweating in their bodies very plentifully▪ were quitted of their agues: but became (in a degree) maddiſh of the ſtage, and were perpetually acting ſome part of a Tragedy. Lucians opinion upon it (if it were his own, and not part of his Hiſtory;) is very probable. There was an excellent Tragedian in the Town, who had lately repreſented a play called Andromede. It was in the very middle of Sommer; and it happened to be an extraordinary hot day. So that partly with hearing with great intention of mind, and thronged beſides in their bodies, moſt of them probably, at ſuch a concourſe of the whole town, it is no wonder if they fell into fevers: and in their fevers, (as it is very natural,) what they had ſo lately heard with great admiration, occurring to their minds, and making (as at ſuch a time, when the ſpirits are quickened by the heat of the fever, is moſt natural too,) great impreſſion; no wonder if the effects of that impreſſion continued, even after the fever, for a long time: till the winter time, and a very great froſt that happened, wiped it away. I cannot warrant the truth of this relation, otherwiſe then as I have ſaid. but other things of the ſame nature I can, and ſhall impart to the Reader, which will be warranted by good authority; which I my ſelf wonder at much more, and yet can give ſome reaſons to my ſelf, why I can believe them poſſible and true. It ſeemeth ſtrange unto me, that this conceited Melancholy, being nothing elſe but mere conceit, (in common opinion,) ſhould have ſo real an operation upon the ſenſes, as in ſome caſes it hath. Zacuthus Luſitanus, for example, tells of one, that phanſied unto himſelf that he was very cold; bemoned himſelf both night and day, and would have caſt himſelf into the fire many times, had not he been bound with chains to keep him from it: being perſwaded except his body were burnt, he ſhould never be warm. At laſt he was cured (Zacuthus himſelf did the cure:) by an exceſſive artificial heat, which would have made another roar, but made him leap and dance for joy, and in time, acknowledge that he was warm, and after that acknowledgement, ſound. It is not improbable that he had felt ſome great cold, either waking or ſleeping, by which he was much affected, the ſpecies whereof might remain in his memory; which being ſtirred up and quickened by his imagination, might cauſe ſome reality of ſenſe. So they, not all, but ſome, as is obſerved by that Treaſurer of rare Obſervations, Ambroſius Pareus, (I have met with the obſervation, out of him in Sennertus: but long before, when but a Boy, I remember well that I heard a very learned Phyſician, a man of excellent parts in ſome other faculties, Raphael Thorius, diſcourſe upon that ſubject from his own experience: not upon his own body, I do not mean; but upon ſome that had been his Patients:) ſome then, I ſay, that have had a Foot, or a Leg, or any other member cut off, have complained long after of the very pains that they ſuffered in that very part, before it was cut off. So that I conceive that there may be ſome reality of ſenſe, where there is no reality of hurt: except a man may dy alſo without any reality of ſenſe; it being a caſe tried and granted, that ſome men have been put to death by the conceit of death, being ſtruck only with a little wand, or a wet role of cloath, when they expected they ſhould have been ſtruck with a naked ſword. So we read of one that phanſied unto himſelf, that he was ſo big of body,^[33] that no door was wide enough for him. He was forced violently, that is, againſt his will, (for many are often cured by ſuch experiments;) through a door, wide enough for a greater body: but he was not cured of his conceit; but conceiting that his body had been by that violence extremely ſqueezed and bruiſed, complained much of pain, and dyed. I believe that there is more then bare imagination in ſuch caſes, to cauſe ſuch effects; though imagination be the original cauſe. But the further conſideration of this I will leave to learned Phyſicians: ſomewhat I will add of mine own experience, which may contribute ſomewhat to their ſpeculations. When a young Scholar in the Univerſity, I uſed ſwings often. they are preſcribed for health; but I uſed them as much for pleaſure: and I remember I have read ſomewhere, that Aſclepiades, who preſcribed nothing but pleaſing remedies, did cure many diſeaſes by ſuch jactations. I have dreamed often that I was ſwinging; or without ſwings, floating, as it were, in the aire. I am certain that I have found in my ſleep that very eaſe, or pleaſingneſſe (if I may ſo call it,) of the whole body, that I did when I was really ſwinging: and I have thought after I was awaked, (a good while after,) that my body was the better for it. Again, I have been in the cold water againſt my will twice, in boats that ſunk to the ground: (whereof in due time, as of ſome other things in point of nature ſtrange, if not miraculous, that have happened unto me in my life, I may perchāce give ſome accoūt to the world:) I have dreamed that I was in the water, & thought I felt cold. but of this I cānot ſpeak ſo much, becauſe not often, as of my nocturnal imaginary ſwinging or flying, which doth happen very often.

I hope the Reader will not be offended with this digreſſion: which in very deed is no digreſſion; ſuch diſtempers of the brain, as we have hitherto ſpoken of, falling very naturally within the conſideration of enthuſiaſme: and beſides, as they conferre to the clearing of other obſcure matters, that have or ſhal be treated of, not impertinent, even ſo.

Now to return to Acoſta and his example: When that poor man ſo confidently averred himſelf as deſtinated to be a King or a Pope, or when he confidently bragged of his miracles, and wondred at the perverſneſſe of his Judges for not acknowledging the truth of that which ſeemed unto him, though not unto any other but himſelf, ſo truly viſible and palpable; as that of his reſurrection, of John Duke of Auſtria, of the king of Spain, and the like: whether in ſuch a caſe and condition, he might as truly be conceived, as is confidently affirmed, in his right witts, ſince Acoſta thought fit to make the caſe publick, he muſt give every man leave, if not to judge, yet to conſider. Though it can do him no good whom he writes of; yet it may concern divers others, who in their melancholy (as many have done, and do daily, if we may credit Laurentius;) may conceit themſelves Popes and Emperours, and perchance aſſume the Titles too, and yet no dangerous men, nor liable, if they meet not with very ſevere Judges, to any other judgement, then to be laughed at by ſome, (which is uncharitable enough, ſince it is a common chance,) and to be pitied by others. But if a man ſhould be found and convicted, whilſt in his right wits, through exceſſe of ambition to have tampered (which is done ſometimes) with either men or Devils, by ſecret unlawfull plots and projects, to compaſſe a Crown, or a Mitre: though that man afterwards, by continual and vehement intention of his mind upon the ſame ſubject, ſhould crack his brain, and believe himſelf really, what he had long endeavoured wickedly; I doubt whether the innocency of his belief (as a diſtracted man,) would acquit him from the unlawfulneſſe of his attempts, when a ſound man, which brought him to that diſtraction. So if a man, neither factious in his life, nor abettor of ſtrange Opinions, when himſelf, in a fit of a burning fever, or through ſome proper diſtemper of the brain, occaſioned by a melancholick conſtitution of bodie or otherwiſe, ſhould fall into a conceit, and ſpeak accordingly, that he is Chriſt, or God, or the like; I think he ſhould have hard meaſure, if he ſhould be puniſhed as a Blaſphemer. But if he bring himſelf to this through exceſſe of ſpirituall pride, and ſelf-conceit, but eſpecially, by uſing ſuch indirect courſes, little better then witchcraft, as private Revelations and Enthuſiaſms; as I deſire not to be judge in ſuch caſes, ſo I think it may be ſpoken by any man without preſumption, that they that are condemned to ſuffer for it by others, do not ſuffer innocent. For truly my opinion is, that it is no leſſe then abſolute renunciation of the Goſpel, and Faith of Chriſt; and the ready way, I am ſure, to bring in Mahometiſme, or if any thing can be worſe; after the Goſpel, and faith of Chriſt once delivered, to pretend to new Lights, and to ſeek after Revelations in matters of Faith and Doctrine. God make me conſtant to that profeſſion of Tertullian, falling from which himſelf, he became an Heretick, and a perſecutor of the Catholick Church by his writings: Nobis curioſitate opus non eſt poſt Chriſtum Jeſum; ^[34] nec inquiſitione poſt Evangelium. Cum credimus, nihil deſideramus ultra credere: hoc enim prius credimus, non eſſe quod ultra credere debeamus. There can be nothing plainer: yet for their ſakes that underſtand nothing but Engliſh, I will Engliſh the words. There is no need of curioſity [after Oracles, or Prophets, or Philoſophers, to teach the way to happineſſe;] after Chriſt Jeſus: nor of inquiſition, after his Goſpel. When we profeſſe our ſelves to believe, [being well grounded by good Catechizing, &c. in the Chriſtian faith,] all our deſires, and all our endeavours in point of believing, are at end. For even that we believed, before we profeſſed, that nothing more was to be believed, then barely that which we ſhould profeſſe.

But this is ſomewhat beſides my ſubject, and purpoſe too, however I am fallen upon it. What Courts of Juſtice have determined in theſe caſes, doth not concern us; but what learned Naturaliſts. And here I meet with an objection, which I muſt remove, or recant part of what I have ſaid. Some Phyſicians in their Conſultations and Reſolutions ſeem to ſay,^[35] as Acoſta doth in his relation, that in ſuch diſtempers the intellectus is integer, that is, the underſtanding ſound. That ſome Phyſicians ſay ſo, I ſhould make no great matter of it: they may have their opinions as well as other men; and there be of all profeſſions that affect it. But it troubles me, that Galen ſhould be named for one of that opinion. The caſe related out of him, is of one Theophilus, who did phanſie to himſelf, that he both ſaw and heard ſome Minſtrels in a corner of his Chamber, and could not reſt for them: otherwiſe it ſeems, both before and after his recovery, very rational in all other things. Hereupon it is determined, that it was an error of his imagination only, and not of his underſtanding. I would not contend about words. If their meaning be, that the Imagination and the Intellect being different faculties, really different by place and proprieties, and liable to particular ſymptomes and diſtempers; that in ſuch caſes the diſtemper originally and inherently is in the imaginative, not intellective faculty, though the error by reaſon of that relation, or ſubordination which is between the two, be communicated to the underſtanding: though I know there is matter enough of diſpute about the differences and proprieties of each faculty, yet I ſhall not oppoſe any thing. To ſome other purpoſes, the difference may be very obſervable. It may ſatisfie a man, how it comes to paſſe that the underſtanding ſhould be ſo right in all others, though ſo wrong in one particular object: whereas if the diſtemper were in the ratiocinative it ſelf, the diſtraction would be general. Neither is every error of the imagination an error of the underſtanding. For we phanſie many things awaked, as in the water, or in the clouds, which our reaſon doth oppoſe, & therefore we believe not. Nay ſometimes in our very dreams, reaſon doth oppoſe phanſy, and informes us, that what we wonder at, or fear, is but a dream, becauſe impoſſible or abſurd; when yet that very information is part of our dream. But if once any particular imagination be ſo ſtrong & violent as to force aſſent from the underſtanding, ſo that no power of ratiocination that is left in us, is ſtrong enough to make us believe that it is otherwiſe then we imagine: is not this a depravation of the Underſtanding, as well as of the Imagination? Or what if the Imagination be altogether depraved, and a man, not out of any proper diſtemper of underſtanding, (for that is as poſſible as the other,) but of the imagination, in every thing that he ſaith or doth▪ both ſpeak and do like a mad man; ſhall not he be accounted mad? I will believe that Galen intended it not otherwiſe then as I have explained it untill I have better cōſidered of his words in himſelf, which now I have not the opportunity to do; or that I meet with further reaſon, to ſatisfie me that it is ſo as ſome make him to ſay, then any I have yet met with.

As for the muliercula, or ſimple woman, the cauſe of this mans infatuation; whether ſhe were really poſſeſt, or a counterfeit, or whether ecſtatical from ſome natural cauſe; becauſe we find ſo little of her in the relation to help our inquiſition, I muſt let her alone. It is certain, that many that fall into thoſe fits, naturally, or, to ſpeak more plainly, from natural cauſes, phanſie to themſelves heavens, and angels, and revelations of myſteries, very really; and are in a better capacity, through the agitation of the brain and pureſt ſpirits, (as in Fevers, many,) after their fits, to ſpeak and diſcourſe of many things, then they were before. It is not ſo in all, I know: ſome become more ſtupid: but in ſome it is ſo; and whether it were this womans caſe particularly, I know not. But I leave her: and before I proceed to new matter, I muſt inſert a caveat. In the caſe of Witches in general there is much diſpute among learned men, (as, whether corporally tranſported from place to place, &c.) of the power of the imagination. I would not have any thing that hath been ſaid by me, to be drawn to that caſe, which I apprehend to be a quite different caſe. For it is certain, (if any thing be certain in the world,) that moſt Witches, though they may ſuffer depravation, or illuſion rather of phanſie, in ſome other things; wittingly and willingly, in perfect uſe of ſenſe and reaſon, and upon apparent grounds of envie, malice, revenge, and the like, do many miſchiefs. But if any ſuppoſed Witch, being accuſed by others, or any that ſhould acknowledge her ſelf to be ſuch, ſhould not or cannot be convicted legally, to do, or to have done any thing worthy of death; ſuch a one though ſhe ſhould tell many ſtrange things of her ſelf, which may be thought to deſerve death, yet I ſhould not think it very ſafe to condemn her, without better evidence then her own confeſſion, or teſtimony.

After ſo much of Ecſtaſies, which are the proper paſſion of the Mind or Underſtanding, and ſo moſt naturally the effects of Contemplation, which is the proper and ſupreme operation of the underſtanding: we ſhall now proceed to the conſideration of two notable controverſies, which will much conduce to the further clearing of theſe hidden myſteries, and lead us to the main buſineſſe of this Chapter.

The firſt is, Whether it may be conceived poſſible in nature, for any man, whether by the advantage of ſome idioſyncriſia, (more commonly, but not ſo truly written, idioſyncratia,) that is, ſome peculiar natural property, ſome ſecret ſympathy or antipathy, or the like; of which kind of idioſyncriſiae there be ſo many rare examples in Phyſicians and Philoſophers, as may ſeem in point of credibleneſſe to ſurpaſſe the greateſt wonders in the world; whether then, by ſome ſuch help or advantage (if it may be ſo called,) of nature, or by ſome contracted propriety by long uſe and endeavour, it may be thought poſſible in nature, without the concurrence of any ſupernatural cauſe, for any one man or woman to put themſelves into a Trance, or Ecſtaſie, when they will.

The ſecond, Whether in any Trance or Ecſtaſie of the mind, whether voluntary or involuntary, a true and real ſeparation of the Soul from the Body for a time, be a thing poſſible in nature.

For the firſt queſtion; I find Avicenne, (an ancient Arab, of great credit among all; by ſome preferred above all other Philoſophers, or Phyſicians;) quoted by ſome, concerning one, who beſides ſome other extraordinary properties, nothing to our purpoſe, could put himſelf into a fit of Palſie when he would. And if that were granted, there would be no great queſtion of the poſſibility of voluntary Trances: it being a thing (in ordinary judgement) of equall facility in point of nature, to fill the Ventricles of the Brain with pituitous (or whatever Phyſicians will make them,) humours, and to empty them at pleaſure; and to command certain humours into the chine of the back, and nerves, to be recalled again at will. So that if the one may be arbitrary in ſome one or other by ſome propriety of temper &c. the other may as probably. But I will not much inſiſt upon this example, becauſe of the uncertainty. I think there is no body almoſt, that pretends to learning or curioſity in any kind of nature and Philoſophy, but hath heard, or read of Reſtitutus, an African Prieſt, in S. Auguſtine; who with the help of a mournfull tone, or lamenting voice, whether real or counterfeit, would preſently fall into a perfect ecſtaſie, ſo that he would not ſtirre at all for any punching or pricking, though to a conſiderable wound: no, nor at the applying of fire; except perchance a man had applied ſo much, as to have endangered his life. So much perchance might be thought ſomewhat, to make faith of a real Trance. We heard before out of Thuanus, what a mighty matter was made of it, that a Maid ſhould endure patiently (without any ſign of ſenſe, I mean,) the driving of pins or needles into ſome fleſhy parts. But S. Auguſtine had more experience in the world then ſo. Beſides that common preſident of the Lacedemonian Boys and Girls, he had obſerved with many Philoſophers, (yea and Civilians,) how far man or womans reſolute obſtinacy could go in point of ſuffering. That his reader therefore might be fully ſatisfied, that it was no juggling buſineſſe, but a true, real, perfect ecſtaſie, he addeth; Non autem obnitendo ſed non ſentiendo, non movere corpus eo probatur, quod tanquam in defuncto nullus inveniebatur anhelitus; hominum tamen voces, ſi clarius loquerentur, &c. that is, (but I muſt let the Reader know by the way, that the Edition of S. Auguſtine, the onely I have at this time, is very ancient; almoſt as ancient as printing is; being the Venice edition of Petrus de Tarviſio, 1475. for which I like it not the worſe, I confeſſe: yet thought good to give the Reader notice, in caſe, as oftentimes, there ſhould be found any thing different in later Editions, though commonly for the worſt:^[36]) Now that this his not ſtirring of his body at all thoſe things, happened not through a reſolute obſtinacy, (ſuch as by ancient Heathens was commonly objected to Chriſtian Martyrs; but very impertinently, it being both in regard of the number, and divers other circumſtances, a quite different caſe:) or oppoſition of the mind; but merely becauſe he did not feel; was certainly known, becauſe all this while no breath was found in him, no more then if he had been quite dead. Yet the ſame man, if any body with a very loud voice had ſpoken or called unto him, he would acknowledge afterwards, when come to himſelf, that he had heard ſome kind of noiſe, as if it were afar off. But this indeed S. Augustine doth not relate as a thing that himſelf had ſeen: no; but yet as a thing of very freſh memory, a verred unto him by many that had ſeen it, and whom he doth profeſſe (experti ſunt: as of a thing that he made no queſtion:) to believe. And truly I for my part muſt acknowledge, that I give more credit to this relation of S. Auguſtine, then to Cardan his teſtimony concerning either himſelf, or his Father: though Bodinus is well content to believe it,^[37] and partly grounds upon it as unqueſtionable. It was in their power, he ſaith, to abſtract their ſouls from their bodies, when they would. The poſſibility whereof, except he meant it of an abſolute ſeparation, although I do not abſolutely deny: yet that ſuch a thing ſhould be believed upon his bare teſtimony, hominis ventoſi ingenii, as Scaliger of him ſomewhere, a man ever ambitious to tell ſtrange things, to be admired by others; I ſee no juſt ground.

Well, but experientia fallax. ^[38] It is his caveat, who of a wiſe man (and much the wiſer for it, certainly,) adſcribed as much to experience as ever man did: and therefore ſo earneſtly exhorteth all young Phyſicians, not to neglect the experiments, & adviſes grounded upon experiments, even of the moſt illiterate of the world. I doubt therefore, whether we may build ſo much upon two or three examples, though atteſted by very good authority, as to make an abſolute inference, without ſome further reaſoning. I find that Tho. Fyenus, a very learned Phyſician, who hath publiſhed a very rational and ſcholaſtical Treatiſe, Concerning the power of the Imagination, doth expreſſe himſelf peremptorily upon the point, on the negative: Ea (of this very inſtance out of S. Aug.) vel arte Diabolica, vel fallacia aliqua cōtigiſſe; vel alias impoſſibilia eſſe. But I profeſs to wonder much at this his determination; and whether without cauſe, I ſhall make the reader judge. For firſt, the queſtion is not whether the bare Imagination can do it immediately, which is contrary to the courſe of nature; as is well ſhewed by him throughout his Treatiſe: but whether the Imagination, or any other Power depending on the Will, by the ſubordination of other Faculties; as by ſtirring up ſome Paſſion, and the like. And ſo himſelf doth grant, that many Diſeaſes be cauſed by the Imagination; as particularly the Plague: which though it be particularly acknowledged by him, yet for the Readers further ſatisfaction, I will here adde another learned Phyſician his words, who is generally thought to have written of all contagious diſeaſes, as learnedly & ſolidly as any man. His words are very expreſſe. Ex animi perturbationibus iracundia, ^[39] &c. that is; As we have ſaid, that among the Paſſions of the mind, Anger, Terror and Grief are not without danger: ſo do we now declare, that fear of the Plague, and intent cogitation about it, do often bring it; and bear witneſſe, that many perfectly ſound before, being ſtruck with a ſuddain fright and fear of it, were preſently taken, and little after died; upon no other ground or cauſe as my opinion is, but this, that vehement and intent cogitation of the mind, and continued imagination, whilſt they do ſtrongly affect the heart, they do at the ſame time imprint and ingrave in it that very thing, which is ſo much feared and thought upon. And to this purpoſe I remember very well, that I did once, when very young, hear that worthy Raphael Thorius, mentioned before, who continued in London all the Plague-time 1603. hear him, I ſay, with great admiration, tell of many particulars; of men and women to his knowledge, and in his ſight walking, ſitting, talking in perfect health; at ſome outward ſight, or unſeaſonable relation, or the like, ſuddainly taken. Some might except, that their fear was not the cauſe of the Plague; but the unſenſible grudgings or beginnings of the Plague in their bodies, rather cauſe of their fear: as when a man dreameth of ſome ſmart pain; not the dream, often, is the cauſe of the pain, but the pain of the dream. No; that cannot be, by divers inſtances which he did alledge. For then, their fear proceeding from an inward cauſe, would have been without any externall provocation: whereas in all thoſe examples, ſome external provocations were the firſt, and only apparent cauſe. Yet I will not deny, but that probably there might be a concurrence of both in ſome of thoſe many inſtances. But now to Fyenus again. Some can weep when they will: that he doth not deny; no man indeed can deny it. I know what Poets and Comicks do write of all women in general; but I will not make uſe of their authority, neither do I believe it true. But they that have read of Burials and Funerals in ancient Authors, cannot but take ſome notice of the mulieres praeficae among the Romans, (and ſuch there were among other nations; as among the Jews particularly:) who though they were but hired with money to weep, and did without all doubt rejoyce, more or leſſe, in their hearts for the occaſion, it being their profeſſion, by which they maintained their own life: would nevertheleſſe ſo mightily and ſo naturally weep, that many that ſaw them, though they knew well enough that they did it merely for their hire, and forcedly, and had otherwiſe no mind nor occaſion themſelves; yet could not forbear to do as they did. Now were it ſo as Fyenus ſeems elſewhere to determine, that a voluntary ecſtaſie were nothing elſe but humoris pituitoſi in cerebri ventriculos & ſubſtantiam intromiſſio & inductio; as he defineth arbitrary weeping by Seri pro imperio motio: truly I ſhould think it might eaſily be inferred, that the one (as to natural poſſibility) might be as well as the other; ſo that the one being granted by him, the other could not in reaſon be affirmed impoſſible. But I will diſpute againſt my ſelf in this, for the truth, as I apprehend it. For as I conceive every true, natural, and perfect ecſtaſie, to be a degree or ſpecies of epilepſie: ſo I ſubſcribe to Sennertus, and other Phyſicians, who beſides ordinarily known humors, maintain that there is a different ſpecifick epileptical humor, or quality, as yet unknown unto men, which is the immediate cauſe of Epilepſies.

But laſtly, Fyenus ſeemes to me in ſome degree, if not to contradict, yet to be inconſtant unto himſelf. For whereas he doth there ſo peremptorily determine it as impoſſible: in this his ſecond Queſtion, Concl. 11. where he hath the ſame inſtances at large, he propoſeth them there as things that might happen indeed, but (praeter communem curſum naturae,) beſides the ordinary courſe of nature; not as ſupernatural, (leſt any ſhould miſtake) but ex particulari aliquorum hominum proprietate, & ſingulari corporis conformatione: though indeed, even there at the laſt he concludes with a doubt; ſed forte etiam aliqua corum arte magica &c. aliqua forte etiam non ſunt vera. which I take to be a farre more diſcreet and judicious determination, then his impoſſible afterwards. Which to make yet more probable unto my Reader, ſince it is granted that ſtrange things may be done by ſome, through peculiar natural properties, my courſe would be, as I take it, to look into thoſe many examples of idioſyncriſiae, which I find in good Authors: whether among them we might not find divers things, which might ſeem every whit as ſtrange as thoſe controverted Ecſtaſies. But becauſe I deſire not to be over-long, and that I would not glut the Reader with ſtrange ſtories; among whom ſome will be found, perchance, of Lucian's temper, who not valuing the authority of moſt credible Authors, will account all fabulous that themſelves have not ſeen or known; I ſhall forbear. Yet for their ſakes that may be more candid and curious, I ſhall mention two books which I read but lately, (for which I was beholding, as for divers others, to a worthy Friend, a Doctor and Profeſſor of Phyſick, in Chicheſter:) the one, Henrici à Heers his Obſervationes medicae; the other, Dan. Sennerti lib. 6. de morbis à faſcino, incantatione, &c. publiſhed long after his other works: which two books, if my memory deceive me not, will competently furniſh them with ſuch examples. But to let that paſſe, and the advantage that we might make of it. That ſome can bring themſelves to that, as to weep when they will, as we ſaid before, is granted: and S. Auguſtine in the ſame chapter profeſſeth himſelf to have ſeen one▪ that could ſweat (without any motion, or any other ordinary means,) when he would: and this alſo by Fyenus is granted as poſſible: and Julius Scaliger in his Exercitations againſt Cardan, writes of one, as very well known unto him, that could not hold his water, if he heard any play upon a Lute or Harp: and I have it from perſons of credit, that profeſſed to have ſeen a woman, that could make her ſelf bluſh when ſhe would. That a man may by intent imagination or cogitation, bring himſelf to a vertigo, as will make him fall to the ground, and trouble his brain very much, beſt Phyſicians do affirm: nay, that a great fright in tender bodies, (as women with child,) and intent imagination, is enough to beget [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] Epilepticam, is obſerved by Guil. Fabricius, Cent. 3. Obſerv. 3. to whom Sennertus doth aſſent. Have there not been men or women, boys or girls, & children in the world, who at the very remembrance of ſome very ſad or terrible thing, that had happened unto them in their life, would fall into a ſwoon, whether they would or no? How much more if they affected it, and after ſome two or three unvoluntary fits, finding ſome diſpoſition in themſelves to it, and aiming at ſome advantage by it, or propoſing to themſelves ſome other end, uſed means by intent cogitation or otherwiſe, to bring themſelves into a habit of it? Is there any thing in this impoſſible? If I ſhould rub up mine own memory, I could tell of many things that I have known in my time in that kind. But why ſhould not I (in things ſo ordinary) leave all men to their own experience? This is ſomewhat rare, that I remember to have read in Benevenius, De abditis morborum cauſis, &c. (a book for the bigneſſe, as full of choice Obſervations, as any I have ſeen; of whom and of his Obſervations, we ſhall have occaſion to ſay more in ſome other Chapter:) of a Boy, who having been frighted by ſome ſtrange apparition, whether real, or cōceited, was wont from that very day, & almoſt hour, every 8th day to fall into the ſame horrors & outcries, which he had then ſuffered and uſed; from which he could never be cured, as long as he lived: but it ſeems it brought him into a ſpeedy conſumption, ſo that he did not live very long after it.

More I know may be found to the ſame purpoſe: but I think I have ſaid enough to conclude, that granting what muſt be granted, and doth often happen in the world, beſides the ordinary courſe of nature, yet by cauſes that are natural, as ſuch and ſuch an idioſyncriſia, and the like; a voluntary ecſtaſie is not a thing impoſſible in nature.

But I have not yet done. There is ſomewhat elſe to be ſaid, that may ſeem to conduce very much to this our preſent inquiry: and though I my ſelf ſhall make no great matter of it, yet ſome body elſe may; and think, it would have ſtood me in great ſtead. Giraldus Cambrenſis, a Briton by birth, though by deſcent rather an Engliſh-man, or Nor-man, as he makes himſelf, but a very learned man for thoſe times, in his Deſcription of Wales, chapter 16. tels us of a certain company, frequent in thoſe dayes, in Wales, commonly called awenyd hion; that is, ecſtatical, or mente ducti, according to Giraldus his interpretation. Theſe men, it ſeems, according to his relation, could put themſelves into a trance when they would: that is, as often as any came to them to conſult them as Prophets. Two things eſpecially Giraldus would have us to take notice of: the one, that they did not uſe to come to themſelves again, except ſome kind of violence were uſed, to recall and awaken them, as it were: and then ſecondly, that after they were come to themſelves, they remembred nothing at all they had either ſaid or done in their fits. He makes them to have been a race of the Trojan Soothſayers, among whom and their poſterity, the Britons, only, he would have us to believe ſuch Prophets have been. Yet again he doth argue, and would have us to believe that they propheſied by the ſpirit too, and to that end inſtances in divers, who though Infidels, though lewd in their converſations, have had the gift of propheſie. And ſuch alſo he maketh the Merlins to have been. I can eaſily be perſwaded▪ that Giraldus wrote as himſelf believed; not out of any deſigne, as many have done, to abuſe his Reader. It appeareth by the many Miracles wherewith he hath ſtuffed his Itinerarium, that he was a man of very eaſie belief: which was the epidemical diſeaſe of thoſe times of Ignorance, when all Piety almoſt conſiſted in telling and making of Miracles. And what might not he believe, who did believe that Alexander of Macedon, though long before thoſe miraculous times, had removed the Caſpian mountains, and incloſed within them, as within walls, the ten tribes of Iſrael; not to be removed from thence till the coming of Enoch and Elias? I do not ſay that he was the Author of this pretty Fable: but that he had credulity enough to believe it; and by conſequent not to be wondered at, if he believed many other things, that may probably be ſuppoſed as true. But truly I think we are much beholding to his fidelity. For had he been of the temper of ſome others, he would have added ſomewhat of his own, to make his ſtory more ſtrange; which might have troubled us. But now as he deſcribeth them, we may believe him, ſo farre as he ſpeaks of himſelf; and yet know them (be it ſpoken without any diſparagement to that ancient noble people; ſince there is no nation in the world but hath ſtore of ſuch:) know them, I ſay, for arrant Jugglers and Impoſtors. For there is not any thing in the whole relation, but might eaſily be performed by any ordinary Gypſie. And the like we may as probably conclude of thoſe dancing Enthuſiaſts, by him elſewhere mentioned and deſcribed in his Itinerariū. As for his Merlins, if they were no others then the Merlins of our dayes, it will require no long deliberation to determine what they were. But we know ours, that now are, well enough: but as for them that were, I leave them to them that know more of them then I do, to judge of them.

Neither ſhall I need to ſay any thing of the Turkiſh Enthuſiaſts, the Darviſei, or Torlaces, who, as I find them deſcribed in ſome Turkiſh Hiſtories, have (ſome of them) much reſemblance with thoſe in Giraldus, as to their pretended Fits and Raptures: but ſuch lewd abominable Raſcals otherwiſe, that were it not that we ſee among Chriſtians alſo how inclinable the common ſort of people are to be carried with any pretence of Religion, though the actions be never ſo irreligious and contrarie to that which is pretended; it would be incredible that ſuch monſters ſhould be ſuffered in a Commonwealth: much more incredible, that with ſo much zeal and devotion, as men of God and holy Prophets, they ſhould be worſhipped and adored, as they are there by many. Strange ſtories may be read in Leo Africanus, in his 3. book of the Deſcription of Africk; Diverſae regulae ac ſectae, &c. p. 135. to this purpoſe; whereof he profeſſeth himſelf to have been eye-witneſſe: but nothing more ſtrange, then what Germany hath ſeen, and any other Countrey may, where Anabaptiſticall Enthuſiaſts are tolerated, and from toleration come in time to prevail and rule.

I will not make a queſtion of it to diſpute it; for I have but little to ſay for it: but I deſire only to propoſe it, that learned Naturaliſts and Phyſicians may (if they pleaſe) conſider of it; Whether it be probable or poſſible, that naturall Ecſtaſies and Enthuſiaſms, ſuch as proceed from naturall cauſes merely, ſhould be contagious: though not contagious in the ſame manner as the Plague, or the Pox is; yet contagious in their kind. Neither indeed are all contagious diſeaſes, contagious in one kind. A mad Dogge is not contagious with his Breath: Fra[•]aſtorius, that hath written of that ſubject, ſaith with his Teeth only; and not except ſome bloud be drawn. But it is not my purpoſe to inquire into the truth of that now: I would only ſuppoſe, that all diſeaſes that are contagious, are not contagious in the ſame manner. The chiefeſt ground of my ſuſpicion is, the hiſtory of thoſe ancient Hereticks, who were commonly known under the name (for they had many others beſides, as Enthuſiaſts, &c.) of Meſſaliani, a Syriack word; that is, Euchites, or Prayers: becauſe they were wont to pray themſelves into raptures and ecſtaſies, of which we ſhall ſpeak more in its proper place. But that I have here to ſay of them is, that whereas this ſtrange Sect (as moſt others) began by a few; it did in time ſo ſpread and prevail, that whole Monaſteries, whole Townes, and almoſt Countries were infected with it. Neither could any other cure be found, but abſolute deſtruction. Which may ſeem ſtrange, that that wherein the happineſſe and perfection of a Chriſtian, being well uſed, doth chiefly conſiſt; as being that which bringeth man neareſt unto God; through abuſe and exceſſe, ſhould become liable to the puniſhment of higheſt crimes. But in this quaere we go upon a wrong ground, I know, if it be conceived that thoſe men were really poſſeſt, as ſome have thought anciently. For my part, I ſee no cauſe to believe it; but I leave every man free. I propoſe it to them that ſhall be of my opinion, as I doubt not but ſome will be: and we ſhall ſay more afterwards of it, in due place.

II. Our ſecond queſtion which we propoſed, is, Whether through any Naturall Ecſtaſie, the Soul may really quit the Bodie, and then return. I ſhall begin with the conſideration of what ſome Ancients have thought and written. But before that, I muſt profeſſe that I do not, in ſuch high points, adſcribe ſo much unto ancient Heathens, except it be ſome of the moſt ſolid and rationall among them, as to think their opinion in a ſerious diſcourſe, a ſufficient ground for a Quaere; much leſſe, for a Concluſion. But ſince that I find that ſome Chriſtians, men of good learning and great fame, have not only largely diſputed, but in concluſion affirmed it; I think I ſhould not give my Reader that ſatisfaction that he might expect from me, if before I come to them and their Arguments, I ſhould not tell him, who before them, whether heathen or others, that are come to my knowledge, or preſent remembrance, have concurred with them in their opinion: and the rather, becauſe it is not unlikely that themſelves might be the bolder to publiſh what they maintained, becauſe they found they were not the firſt that had been of that opinion. Ancient Heathens, whether Philoſophers or others, that did believe ſuch a ſeparation poſſible, ſeem to ground eſpecially upon a ſtorie, that paſſed among them for very current and true; of one Hermotimus Clazomenius, whoſe ſoul, they ſay, was wont to wander into farre places, the body, mean while, being as ſtill and ſenſeleſſe as if it had been a dead body. The matter, it ſeemeth, when ever it happened, was very publick; and therefore paſſed to poſterity with leſſe controll. There is nothing in Plinies relation of it, (for the matter of fact,) but is poſſible enough, and might well be conceived to have proceeded from ſome natural cauſe. Phyſicians are agreed upon it; and they ground it upon certain experience, that a man in ecſtaſi melancholica, or a woman in hyſterica paſſione, may be gone three dayes, and come to themſelves again. Therefore they ſtrictly forbid in ſuch caſes to burie ante biduum exactum; quod quoſdam ferè triduo elapſo revixiſſe obſervatum ſit: as Sennertus of women particularly. Tertullian De anima cap. 51. hath a ſtorie of a Woman that ſtirred her armes when ſhe was carried to be buried. It ſeemeth by him, that he was preſent when it happened: but it was looked upon as a thing merely ſupernaturall and miraculous; and ſo the woman was buried nevertheleſs; which, perchance, if then taken up and well tended, might have recovered to perfect life, without a miracle. Now that a man or woman after ſuch a fit, in courſe of nature, ſhould tell ſtrange things, which he hath ſeen, yea and foretell (though this be rare;) ſome things to come; is not ſo much to be wondred at, that it ſhould be thought incredible. I find the relation concerning this Hermotimus, in Apollonius, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. cap. .. .. more full: but there indeed much improved, as ſuch things uſe to be by time; and altogether incredible. There dayes, (as probably in the firſt relation,) are made yeares: two or three dayes perchance, many yeares, beyond all ſenſe and reaſon. For though I will not diſpute it here, whether it may not fall out in nature, that a man may ſleep ſome moneths, (which is written of a whole Countrey in the North, as naturall unto the people of that countrey, and is not contradicted by ſome eminent Phyſicians:) or yeares; for which I know much may be ſaid, as well as for living divers yeares without any food, which of the two, in point of reaſon might ſeem more impoſſible; and yet is certainly known to have happened, even of late yeares, unto many: Yet for a Bodie to lie ſo long deſtitute of a Soul and of all naturall functions, and not to be dead, is not conceivable in nature. As for thoſe particulars of his predictions in the ſaid Apollonius, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: all theſe things proceeding from natural cauſes, which have operations long before upon ſome creatures; from the diligent obſervation of which operations, skilfull Naturaliſts alſo ſometimes foreſee and foretell them; (of which we have ſpoken in the former Chapter;) I would not ſtick much at that, as is intimated before. But as my purpoſe is only for the truth, ſo I muſt remove one objection, that may be made from the Author I have named. His very title ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉].) promiſes only Fables. Yet it is certain that he hath inſerted divers things, which are aſſerted by beſt Hiſtorians; as Meurſius himſelf in his Preface to the reader, out of Phlegon, doth obſerve. But beſides, that bare alteration of dayes into yeares, was enough and more then enough, to turn a Truth into a Fable. Tertullian De an. c. 44. hath ſome conjectures about this Hermotimus; but not any either in themſelves very probable, or to us here▪ at all conſiderable.

Plutarch in his Treatiſe of the Slackneſſe of Gods judgments, hath a relation too of one Theſpeſius, who fell down from a high place (drunk perchance; for he was a lewd Companion:) without any externall wound or bleeding; upon which he grew immediately ſenſeleſſe, and after a while was ſuppoſed dead: but came to himſelf again after the third day, and then told ſtrange things that he had ſeen; ſome things alſo (of which Plutarch ſpeaketh very ſparingly,) he foretold: and then was his Soul alſo ſuppoſed to have wandered out of the Body all that while I think it very probable, though I have nothing but Plutarch's authoritie for it, that ſuch a thing (laying aſide the main controverſie of reall ſeparation, till we come to ſome determination about it,) might happen. Firſt, ſuch a fall as he deſcribeth, might probably be the occaſion (as we had before in the ecſtaticall Boy, whom his maſter had ſo grievouſly beaten about the head:) of ſuch an Ecſtaſie. Secondly, three dayes, the very proportion of time which Phyſicians have pitched upon, during which they teach that an ecſtaſie may laſt. And though Plutarch ſay after three dayes; it is like enough they would ſpeak ſo, though ſome houres, amounting perchance to half a day and better, to make three dayes, were wanting. But then laſtly, the ſubſtance of his Viſions, and places of his wandrings, do juſt agree with the relations of other ecſtaticall perſons, that have been at ſeverall times and places. It may be comprehended in few words: Heaven, Hell, and Purgatorie. The phraſes indeed, and expreſſions, proper to Heathens, as muſt needs be. but the ſubſtance of the matter, the very ſame for all the world as we find in others, that were of another faith and profeſſion. And yet it muſt be ſuppoſed, that this ſtorie having paſſed through ſeverall hands, before it came to Plutarch, had ſuffered ſome alterations according to different humours of men, and perchance memories, before: and what end ſoever any other might propoſe unto himſelf in it, apparent enough it is, that Plutarch, as may be ſeen in the end, where he ſpeaks of Nero's ſoul, did aim at ſome uſe, for the credit and benefit of his own Countrey. So much for Heathens. I have not met with any profeſſing Chriſtianity, either ancient, (that I remember at leaſt,) or late, that have maintained this ſeparation poſſible upon grounds of reaſon; or de facto, reall and credible; but Joh. Bodinus and Cardanus. Of Cardanus I can ſay little more, then what I find in Bodinus of him, becauſe I have not his books. Why I do not value much his teſtimonie in theſe things, I have given ſome reaſon before. And if his arguments be not better, (in caſe he have any to prove it poſſible; which is more then I know:) we ſhould make no great reckoning of them. As for Bodinus, he was a man famous enough for other learning too; but eſpecially well verſed in ſuch arguments and ſpeculations, as appeareth by his book of Daemonologia. The elogium of the man and his writings, is in Thuanus at large. He plainly maintains it in that choice piece of his, his Theatrum Naturae: a book full of naturall Curioſities; whether as ſolid as curious, I cannot tell. But he ſpeaks not of it as of a thing feaſible by nature, but by power either divine, or diabolicall. And what is that to us? Yes, even unto us, as I conceive, that otherwiſe deſire not to meddle with any thing that is ſupernaturall. For as to divine; as I ſhould hold it a mad thing, from the power of God, which even heathens (though not Galen, who quarrels with Moſes for making it ſo) have acknowledged infinite, to argue to the power of nature, which God (the author) from the firſt creation hath bounded within certain limits: ſo on the other ſide, if it were granted that ordinary Witches and Magicians, can at pleaſure by power given them from the Devil, ſeparate their ſouls from their bodies for certain houres, or dayes, and then reſume their bodies again, and be as before; which by the ſaid Bodinus is diſputed and maintained; truely I ſhould think, it might without impietie or improbabilitie be inferred from thence, that this kind of ſeparation is a thing poſſible in, and by nature alſo. But I will not engage my ſelf here upon that argument of Witches, of which I once purpoſed to treat more at large, and by it ſelf: it is yet poſſible that I may before I die, if God pleaſe. Somewhat Bodinus hath from ſome preſidents in nature, that we might not too much wonder at that which he doth averre and maintain, though not by naturall cauſes, ſo often to come to paſs. Nec debet illud mirum videri, ſi quis meminerit ex electro, &c. I did expect he would have told ſomewhat of divers creatures, which ſome for a longer, ſome for a ſhorter time, as Flyes in the winter, lie quite ſenſeleſſe, and ſeem to be dead: and yet afterwards are known to revive, and to be as active and buſie as ever they were. Such arguments I remember, and inſtances we had many, when young Sophiſters in the Univerſity, upon occaſion of ſeverall diſputes. But this example taken from the ſeparation of Gold and Silver, informing the true Electrum; or of the ſeparation of Oyl & Water, after mixture, by ſuch & ſuch means; ſeemeth to me ſo remote, that I do not ſee how a rational man can inferre any thing out of it pertinent to this purpoſe. Again; had Bodinus gone that way to work, to prove, or make it probable at leaſt, that the rationall ſoul or ſpirit of man is really diſtinct and ſeparable from the vegetative & ſenſitive; though contrary to the common opinion of beſt philoſophers; yet ſo he might have laid a plauſible foundation to his opinion of ſeparation in ecſtaſies. But that he doth not; but plainly maintaineth the contrary.

I ſhall not abſolutely determine any thing: but I ſhall give ſome reaſon why I do not, which will be a kind of determination of the buſineſſe. S. Paul ſpeaking of his own divine raptures, profeſſeth not to know whether they happened unto him in the body, or out of the body. He is earneſt in that profeſſion, and repeats it twice. I am not of their opinion, though it be the opinion of no leſſe a man then Hugo Grotius, among others, that make S. Paul's meaning to be, that he did not know whether he were carried in body to heaven, or heavenly things repreſented unto his mind. I ſhould account that, but for the reſpect I bear to ſome that embrace it, ſomewhat a courſe interpretation. Now if S. Paul, according to that interpretation of his words which is more commonly received, though he knew the power of God very well, and that what had hapned unto him, whatever it was, was not from any naturall cauſe, but altogether ſupernaturall; would not, or could not nevertheleſſe, abſolutely determine, whether that in his divine rapture there were any reall ſeparation of his ſoul from his body: I muſt think it ſomewhat bold for any man to maintain, that ſuch a ſeparation, either by diabolicall power, or by cauſes that are naturall, is poſſible; much leſſe, as Bodinus, ordinary. Beſides, in that caſe of Witches, which is the main argument; except we can tell of Witches and Sorcerers that are in trances for ſome weeks, moneths, or years together, what need? May not the Devil as eaſily, yea and farre more eaſily to our apprehenſion in point of poſſibilitie, repreſent ſuch things unto their phanſie, and make them believe, (which many do without any Devil, upon ſuch impreſſions, occaſioned by ſome diſtemper of the brain, or otherwiſe, as in former examples:) that they ſaw or did ſuch and ſuch things really, in ſuch and ſuch places? But they are carried to farre places, and give a true account of what they have ſeen, it may be a hundred, or a thouſand miles off. This I believe to be true enough, that many Witches & Sorcerers in divers places in the world, by ſeverall kinds of Witchcraft do it. But if a Sorcerer, or a Witch ſhew in a glaſs what is now done upon the Exchange at Antwerp, or at the Louvre in Paris; which certainly ſome have done, or ſomewhat equivalent to that; muſt we therefore conclude that he that hath ſeen it, hath been at either? But laſtly; though the Soul, in man, be it that ſeeth properly, not the Eyes; yet as the Soul is fitted by God to informe a Body, it cannot ſee without Eyes. When once, as to nature, it hath loſt its relation to the body; it then becomes (though the very ſame ſubſtance ſtill,) a new creature as it were, to all manner of operations. It ſeeth, it ſpeaketh, or to ſpeak more properly, communicateth: but not either with Eyes, or Tongue; but as Spirits or Angels do. of the particular manner whereof, both ancient Philoſophers and Schoole-men have diſputed and treated at large. If therefore the ſoul ſeparated from the body can return into it again, and remember what it hath ſeen; it would alſo remember as well, that it was not with bodily eyes that it ſaw or knew, but in ſuch a manner as is proper and natural (if we may ſo ſpeak) to a ſpirit: which is contrarie to the account that is given by Witches, and other of like trade. If any man ſhould ſay, though ſeparated for a ſeaſon, it might carry with it ſome ſpecies, that it had received in the body through the miniſtery of the Eyes, and ſo of other ſenſes: though that be abſurd, becauſe all ſuch ſpecies are imprinted in the brain, diſpoſed by the preſence of the ſoul to receive them; or if we fly to the intelligibiles, abſtracted out of the materials by vertue of the intellectus agens: yet even ſo, though it might ſee (were it granted) by that means, ſome things, even after its ſeparation, that it had ſeen before, whileſt in the body; yet other things, whether preſent or future, by vertue of thoſe ſpecies, more then it had ſeen or known before, it could not.

III. I have done with the two queſtions which I propoſed: I ſhall now paſſe to a third, which I did not mention, to prevent prejudice, leſt by the very termes, it might be thought frivolous and fruitleſſe; which nevertheleſſe in the end, before we have done with it, will appear of great conſequence and reality. But before I come to that new queſtion, I will conclude this diſcourſe concerning Ecſtaſies, with ſomewhat that may do them perchance ſome pleaſure, who are not much converſant in Philoſophy. We had ſomewhat of Viſions, whether internal or external, before. It may be, that expreſſion will not be underſtood by ſome. It is true that ordinarily, as all object of ſight is outward; ſo all ſight or viſion, properly inward. Animus videt, &c. as before, at the beginning, diſputed. But Laurentius in his Treatiſe of melancholie, delivers it as a ſecret, that even without outward objects we may ſee things inwardly; and thereupon defendeth Galen againſt Averroes, affirming that the darkneſſe of melancholick ſpirits, is a great occaſion of melancholy mens continual fearfulneſſe. He handleth it alſo in his Anatomy, lib. 11. q. 2. The ſpecies, he ſaith, (which muſt be underſtood of ſome extraordinary caſes; elſe the ſight would be a very uncertain ſenſe:) with ſuch and ſuch impreſſions, may be ſent unto the eyes from the brain, and from the eyes returned unto the place from whence they came, and the brain receive them (for which ſee his reaſons in his Anatomy:) as things outward. I leave it to the further conſideration of learned Phyſicians and Anatomiſts. Certain it is, that upon ſome diſtempers of the brain, a man ſhall think, even awaking, that he ſeeth thoſe things which he doth not ſee: things which are not, nor perchance can be. Ariſtotle in his Treatiſe of Dreams, gives an inſtance of it in children and young boyes; who after ſome terrible dream, though they be out of their dream, and their eyes full open, (and light brought in ſometimes: which I adde, becauſe I know it to be true:) think nevertheleſſe for a while after, that they ſee with their eyes, what they ſaw in their dream. And Vitus Amerbachius, a learned man, in his book De anima, lib. 4. confirms it to be true by his own experience, even when he was a man, if I miſtake him not. But whatever be the cauſe, the effect is certain; confirmed alſo by learned Fracaſtorius in theſe words: Nihil enim refert ad apparentiam faciendam, &c. that is, Whether the ſpecies comes to the eyes from without, or from within, is not material at all, in point of apparition: for they believe they ſee, and are aſtoniſhed, and grow beſides themſelves, &c. De Sympath. c. 20.

Our third queſtion or conſideration is, whether a man by Philoſophy, or philoſophical contemplation, may attain to an Angelical transformation: or to go higher, to ſuch a degree of union with God, that he ſhall neither by the help of any ſenſe, or phanſie, underſtand as other men; but by a kind of contactus, or union of ſubſtance with the Supreme Cauſe of all things. If any man think this too curious a queſtion, or too high for ordinary capacities, he will be (as is already intimated,) much deceived. For it is for their ſakes eſpecially that are the weaker ſex, that I propoſe it; as he will find it, if he have but the patience to read unto the end. This marvellous tranſmutation of man by philoſophy, is aſſerted by men that call themſelves Platonicks. Julius Caeſar Vaninius deſcribeth it in this manner: Ejus cauſa, continua ſublimiorum contemplatio, quae à ſenſibilibus & à corporis penſo animum ſevocat, & profundiſſima mentis intentione incorporeae ſapientiae conjungit: cumque ad illum gradum pervenerit, qui eſt contemplativae perfectionis ſupremus, tunc rapitur ab omnibus creatis ſpeciebus, & intelligit non per ſpecies acquiſitas, ſed per inſpectionem ad Ideas, in quarum lumine omnia agnoſcit. Ideo ecſtatici multa vera praedicunt. They that can come at Ficinus, De philoſoph. Platon. and other works of his, may expect a more perfect account. But for my part, by what I can find in Plato, or other ancient Platoniſts, I doubt that Plato is wrongfully quoted. I deny not but that he might be ſome foundation: but they that raiſed it to this height, were no others as I take it, then the enthuſiaſtick Arabs, the very ſame that bred us Mahomet; whether before, or afterwards. I have a good Author for it. Learned Montecatenus (an exquiſite Ariſtotelian) in his Commentaries upon the third of Ariſtotle De Anima, ſpeaking there of Averroes, hath theſe words: Hic enim eſt qui opinatur, et ſi eam opinionem non uſquequaque probemus, (I wonder ſo ſober a man would ſay ſo much:) per eas ſpecies [intellectiles] tanquam per ſui partes, perfecte demum nobiſcum copulari effectricem mentem: in quam illae ubi numerum expleverint, repentina quadam luce effulgentes, quaſi abeant & convertantur; imaginatione etiam totoque homine ſecum attractis: adeo ut exinde, non per ſpecies, ut antea, non ope imaginationis intelligamus; ſed per illius mentis eſſentiam, in quam nos pene iſta mutavit copulatio. It were no hard thing to put this into Engliſh: but how to make it intelligible Engliſh to them that know nothing of the intellectus agens, and patiens, and other myſteries of the nature of underſtanding, I know not. However, the ſumme is already in the queſtion, as I propoſed it. And in the application that we ſhall make, every thing will be clearer.

Let the Arabs therefore have the honour of it; if not of the firſt invention, yet of the perfection: yea and practice too, for which they are better fitted by their natural temper, then many other nations. However, that they had it in part, as almoſt all other things, from the Grecians, is moſt certain; as is elſewhere treated more at large in a Diſcourſe De cultu Dei ſpirituali, ſive per intellectum, not yet printed. Among the works of Dionyſius Areopagita, as commonly called, there is a little Treatiſe De mystica Theologia. Were it poſſible to hope, that men would judge without prejudice or partiality, I think it might be proved, partly by what hath already been done by others, partly by what might yet be added to that purpoſe, as clear as the light of the Sun it ſelf is, that the Author of the book cannot be that Dionyſius, whom he counterfeits himſelf, and many gladly believe. But it is, and would be but labour loſt. So farre hath that pompous dreſſe of words, joyned with the ſublimity of the ſubject, bewitched many: beſides what advantage is made by ſome, of this pretended antiquity, in ſome controverted points of religion. However, the Author is ancient, we grant, and good enough too for ſome uſes, to deſerve reſpect at the hands of all learned men. In the Treatiſe De myſtica Theologia, he teacheth a new kind of practical Divinity, by renouncing not to the Senſes only, but to the Underſtanding alſo, and to all intellectual powers, faculties, and operations that are natural: by which in time we may attain [through elevation of mind] to an union not expreſſible, nor underſtood, yet felt, and in an hidden manner operative, with God: in this union, as the perfection of man, and the height of mortal exaltation, to reſt, when attained, without paſſion, without affection, without knowledge. I will give a ſhort deſcription of this myſtery, in the words of ^[40] Carolus Herſentius, one that hath commented upon that book, and hath collected out of other Authors, men and women, whatever he could meet with, to commend it and the doctrine of it unto the world: Cum ad hunc amoris & contemplationis gradum per venit, ſaith he, ut nihil eorum qua intellectu, &c. miro & incognito modo à Deo rapitur; à Deo, & in Deo ſuſcipitur; tota Deo plena fit; tota in Deum transfunditur: ita ut eſſentia Dei ejus eſſentiae & ſubſtantiae intime & abſque ullo modo creato uniatur. Deus autem in raptu hujuſmodi, adventu ſuo ſeu illapſu, rationem & mentem obſcurat, ſtupefac[••] ſuſpenditque: ita ut pro eo temporis intervallo nullius a[•••]onis capax ſit. We ſhall have the Engliſh of all this alſo, (the ſubſtance of it at leaſt,) when I come to that application of it which I aim at. But I would gladly know, of whom this Dionyſius learned this ſtrange Divinity. It is ſomewhat, that Herſentius doth acknowledge Dionyſius in this his doctrine, Platonicorum dogmatum ſectatorem, p. 101. and Platonis ſectatorem accuratiſſimum, p. 91. And p. 93. &c. he bringeth paſſages out of Iamblichus, Porphyrius, Proclus, noted Platoniſts; teaching in a manner the ſame thing. Inſomuch that p. 43. he dares adventure upon ſo much truth, as to ſay, Ego equidem dum Procli philoſophi Platonici in Theologiam Platonis axiomata animadverto, firmiter mihi perſuadeo out Dionyſium Procli ſcripta legiſſe; (a terrible buſineſſe to be ſuppoſed, which would prove no leſſe then hereſie, and loſſe of goods and life. For then what muſt this Dionyſius prove, but an impoſtor, ſeeing Proclus lived, all men know, ſome centuries of yeares ſince the true Dionyſius?) aut quod vero ſimilius, (yea by all means it concerns him to ſay ſo;) Proclum libris Dionyſii operam navaſſe. But let the ſober Reader conſider: Here is a ſtrange kind of Divinity, as ſome call it, or Philoſophy; of which much hath been written (in many volumes by ſome of them,) by Platonick Philoſophers, grounding all upon expreſſe paſſages, (though drawn much further, by the Arabs eſpecially, then he ever intended perchance,) of their maſter Plato: inſomuch that Herſentius himſelf, as obſerved before, is forced to call Dionyſius, a Platoniſt, for teaching this doctrine. We find nothing of it (except we draw things obtorto collo, as we ſay;) in the Goſpel of Chriſt; nothing in ancient Fathers of greateſt antiquity: and yet likely after all this, that Proclus learned it from Dionyſius. But what if we find other Philoſophers alſo, beſides Plato, that lived ſome hundred of years before the true Dionyſius, teach the ſame doctrine more clearly then Plato himſelf; as clearly almoſt, as either Proclus, or Dionyſius? It cannot be unpleaſing to them that are Scholars, if I take ſome pains to diſcover ſome myſteries of this myſtery of darkneſſe, which for ought I know, have not yet been brought to light by any man. Who is the true Author of thoſe Metaphyſicks, or rather fragments of Metaphyſicks, that go under Theophraſtus his name, certainly I cannot tell. We find them adſcribed to divers Authors by ancient Greek Philoſophers: yet by ſome very ancient (though not found in the Catalogue of his books ſet out by Diogenes Laertius, where divers books of his are miſſing as well as this;) to Theophraſtus himſelf. learned Sylburgius leaves it doubtfull. Theophraſtus was one of Ariſtotles own diſciples, and ſucceeded him in his School; much commended by him: an excellent Philoſopher certainly by thoſe works of his (not the twentieth part of what he had written,) that remain unto this day. Thoſe Fragments of Metaphyſicks, whoever be the Author, who muſt have lived long before Chriſt, are a choice piece; but very imperfect, end therefore the more obſcure. In the eighth Chapter of theſe Fragments, (as divided in Sylburgius his edition: for in Aldus, long before that, I find none:) after a long diſcourſe of the ſpeculation of principles, we find theſe words; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. All that know any thing of Philoſophy, be it never ſo little, cannot but have heard of Ariſtotles opinion, ſo much diſputed in the ſchools of Philoſophers: that the underſtanding, whilſt joyned with the body, can do nothing without the ſenſes. of which we alſo have had occaſion to conſider at large in another work, (De origine Idolotriae) not yet printed. Theophraſtus therefore here ſaith; That to ſome degree or meaſure, we may contemplate and know the firſt cauſes ſcientifically, that is, by their cauſes, from things ſenſible: (or, by the help of the ſame ſenſes:) But when once aſcended to the Summities, or Original Firſts, we can go no further: either becauſe they have no cauſe; or partly becauſe of our weakneſſe, as in matter of ſight, (he had this ſimilitude, upon the like occaſion, from his maſter Ariſtotle;) when we would look upon that (to wit the Sun,) which is moſt bright and ſplendid. And in this caſe, it may be true indeed, (by which words Theophraſtus doth ſeem to referre to the ſpeech of ſome former noted Philoſopher, whether Ariſtotle or Plato:) that all knowledge and contemplation [of the firſt cauſes] muſt be by very touching, and feeling (that is, union, or conjunction, as in the former teſtimonies:) of the mind, or intellect. Whence it is that ſuch knowledge (grounded upon a kind of feeling, of all ſenſes the moſt certain in man; by which alſo he doth ſometimes correct the errors of his eyes; or rather, becauſe immediately from God:) is not liable to error; however the comprehenſion of this very thing, and the certainty of it, (or, though that degree of knowledge, neceſſary before a man can attain to this; as of ^[41] confidence alſo;) be a thing of great difficulty. So Theophraſtus there. And now I would deſire the Reader, that hath ſo much curioſity for the truth, to read over that Diſcourſe (it is very ſhort, and will take but little time:) of this pretended Dionyſius, and tell himſelf, when he hath done, (ſome common things concerning the incomprehenſibleneſſe of God, laid aſide,) whether the very pith and marrow of it, be not in thoſe few lines. I will appeal unto Herſentius, who in his paraphraſe at the end, ſumms up all in theſe words: Fatendum igitur, ſi Deus à nobis aliqua ratione agnoſci poteſt, ſola ignoratione, ſilentio, conjunctione ſupra ſenſum & mentem, per ipſam anime unionem agnoſci. As for that [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that divine cloud, which the Author propoſeth at the firſt, as his chiefeſt argument; I know there is ground enough for it, as in the nature, ſo in the Word of God: as by the Greek Commentators upon this Dionyſius is well ſhewed. But of this [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] of Gods nature, how to extract a [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], a miſt of ^[42] ignorance in man, (as the Author elſewhere ſpeaketh,) as the readieſt way to the knowledge of God, ſo much preſſed by this Author, and ſo much commended unto others by the abettors of this ſtrange doctrine; I know no ground at all for it either in reaſon, or Scripture. However, I am much beholding to that phraſe. It hath put me in mind of ſomewhat that may ſerve very well further to diſcover this impoſture. Syneſius is a man well known among Scholars: he was made Biſhop againſt his will, for his great fame and worth. He did oppoſe it very much: and in very truth, in ſome of his writings, even ſince a Biſhop, as I take it, he ſheweth himſelf a better Platoniſt, then ſound Chriſtian. It ſeems that even in his dayes this new Divinity began to be in requeſt among Chriſtians, and ſome illiterate Monks and others took hold of this magnified [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or abſolute ignorance, to bring themſelves into reputation, as though they had been the only wiſe and godly men of the world, becauſe the moſt ignorant; but pretending by that ignorance, to have neareſt acceſſe unto God, and moſt of God in themſelves. Hereupon Syneſius wrote that exquiſite piece, which he inſcribed Dio; (becauſe in very deed, Dio Chryſostomus a great part of his ſubject;) to prove the neceſſity of humane Learning and Philoſophy, to all that will contemplate of high things with ſobriety and good ſucceſſe. He doth not deny but that ſome ſuch tranſcendent witts and natures have been, (but Phoenix-like, ſcarce one in an Age,) who without any ſuch preparation, have been able by the ſublimity of their natural parts and excellencies, to aſcend without ſteps to the higheſt that man can reach, but that any of thoſe profeſſors of ignorance, that pretended to that happy condition, were ſuch, he doth very peremptorily deny. He tells them of their fopperies and manifold extravagancies in their language, and writings; by which a man might ſooner gueſſe them to be ſunk much lower then ordinary nature, then to have attained to any ſupernatural ſublimity. I would have the Reader obſerve thoſe words, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and the like; which be terms of Art, and much uſed in this myſtical ſcience: by which it doth plainly appear, that he meant thoſe very men, whom I ſpeak of God forbid, ſaith he there in a place, that we ſhould think that if God dwell in us, he ſhould dwell in any other part of us, then that which is rational: which is his proper Temple. It cannot be certainly, that Truth ſhould be found in Ignorance; or that he ſhould be wiſe truly, which is irrational: with many ſuch things to that purpoſe. Yea he tells them alſo of their affected ſilence and taciturnity. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. He would not believe that they were Myſteries indeed, that made them dumb, becauſe inexpreſſible: not but that it is the nature of things really ſublime, to be ſo; but becauſe he ſaw nothing in them or from them, that argued either knowledge, or capacity of things farre under Myſteries. But the Reader muſt not expect that ſatisfaction from me, which he may give himſelf, if he will read Syneſius himſelf. There is nothing of Syneſius, but is very good in his kind, and well worth any mans reading: this, both good and uſefull, more then any other part of him, if I be not miſtaken. It is pity, it is no better tranſlated. but indeed more pity, that he ſhould be read in any other language then his own; it is ſo very good, and elegant.

Now to come to that uſe of this laſt queſtion and conſideration, which at the firſt I aimed at: I ſhall not here diſpute, how farre a well-grounded intelligent Philoſopher may adventure in this kind of myſtical Theology (a word common to heathens, it is well known, as well as to Chriſtians;) for the diſcovery of any truth, above ordinary humane ratiocination; nor whether the moſt illiterate among Chriſtians, whether men or women, may not attain ſometimes by Gods ſpecial favour, and real holineſſe and ſanctity, to the higheſt myſteries of Chriſtian religion; which as we deny not, ſo we are ſure, is nothing at all to this purpoſe; nor laſtly, whether the true knowledge and love of Chriſt, joyned with a holy life, have not in many, or moſt, (in ſome more, in ſome leſſe,) a raviſhing power, ſet out allegorically in the book of Canticles, and other Scriptures: All theſe as altogether impertinent to the queſtion and caſe we are upon, I ſhall paſſe by. That which we are to conſider, is, whether this Myſticall Theology, as they call it, by renouncing to all ſenſes, to all knowledge, and intellectual operation, that is, in effect, by affected Ecſtaſies and Enthuſiaſms, be a probable way, to compaſſe a more perfect, real and ſubſtantial union with God, or Chriſt, then otherwiſe is to be compaſſed: whether the writings of ſome ancient and later Platoniſts, Greeks and Arabs, Heathens and Mahometans, be a ſufficient ground and warrant for it, to them that profeſſe to adſcribe more to the Scriptures, received among Chriſtians for divine, by which ſobriety of ſenſe is ſo much commended unto us; then to the opinions of heathen Philoſophers. but more particularly, whether allowable or commendable in women, whom all men know to be naturally weaker of brain, and eaſieſt to be infatuated and deluded. But this laſt is the thing I intend ſpecially to inſiſt upon, by reaſon of that example mentioned in the Epiſtle to the Reader; by conſideration of which (finding it backed with ſo much authority,) I was firſt provoked to undertake this whole Diſcourſe: having alſo ſome reſpect to ſome very near unto me by kindred, of the ſame, or like profeſſion.

This ſuppoſed holy Maid,^[43] whom we are now to conſider of, was from her infancy, according to the relation, which we muſt truſt to, very devout: and, as averſe from any worldly pomp and pleaſure; ſo, ſtrangely addicted to bodily pennances and voluntary chaſtiſements. We will conclude nothing of this. We know well enough what the Apoſtle writeth of himſelf, and what hath been the practice of ſome truly devout, in times of pureſt devotion and piety. However, it is ſure enough, that ſuch immoderate caſtigations and vexations, may be an effect of melancholy, as well as religion; and had not that famous, ſhall I ſay, or infamous Porphyrius, lighted upon a better friend, to take him off in time, he had never lived to plot and write ſo much againſt Chriſtians and Chriſt himſelf, as he did. Zeno the Philoſopher was wont to ſay, Let me be mad, rather then in pleaſure: not conſidering that even in pain there is pleaſure, if a man thereby pleaſe his own mind, and think highly of himſelf, (wherein the height of humane contentment and ambition often lieth,) becauſe he can endure much. Certainly, there would never have been ſo many Stoicks and Cynicks in the world, who when they might have lived otherwiſe, (and ſome of them of their own accord parted with good means and temporal eſtates for it,) choſe to beg, and to be trampled upon by every idle Raſcall that met them, to make good their profeſſion of unpaſſionateneſſe; had it not been ſo, that pain and pleaſure are things which oftentimes depend more on phanſie, then realitie; and that pleaſure may be found, where others feel pain. When I lived in Somerſet-ſhire, (where firſt called to the diſcharge of holy Duties,) there was in a Gentlewomans houſe (a woman of good eſtate and reputation, much given to hoſpitality; where I my ſelf have been often kindly entertained;) a natural Fool, but uſeful enough in a great houſe for ſome ſervices; who took a ſingular pleaſure in being whipped, even unto bloud: and it was one or two luſty Maids (for it muſt be done by Maids, to give him content,) their task every morning▪ when they could intend it. He was not pleaſed, nor would follow his buſineſſe ſo well all the day after, if it were not done. But what do I talk of one fool? whereas we find it recorded by good Hiſtorians, that whole nations at once, have been poſſeſt, ſhall I ſay, or infected, with this phrenſie? Were I in a place where books are to be had, I ſhould be able perchance to give a better account of what I ſay to the Reader. I am very confident I have read it in more then one, with obſervations made upon it, as an epidemical diſeaſe or diſtemper; though by more I know adſcribed to mere devotion. But to ſupply that defect as well as I can, I will here impart unto the Reader what▪ find of it in my Father, of B. M. his Adverſaria.

[〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] deſiderium repente populos Europae invadit.

Memorabilis historia: Circa An. Dom. 1260. cum pauci in Italia velut ſydere afflati cepiſſent ſeſe ex poenitentia flagellare, miro caſu ad reliquos Europae populos exemplum manavit, & eos quoque cupiditas flagellandi ſe inceſſit.

Vide Chron. Patav. mona. p. 612. 1613.

And who hath not heard of the Mileſian Virgins; a thing ſo generally atteſted by all Ancients, that no man can reaſonably make a queſtion of the truth of it? A humor took them to make themſelves away. no perſwaſions of friends, or parents, or any thing elſe that was moſt dear unto them, nor any other means that could be thought of, were effectual to perſwade them to live. There was ſcarce any houſe left in the Town, that mourned not for ſome of theſe ſelf-executioners. Untill at laſt a ſimple device (as it commonly falls out with them that labour of a limited melancholy to ſome one object; of which we had examples before:) did that which no obligation, either civil or natural, could do before: to make them fear that, which of all fears otherwiſe, is generally accounted, and by ſome Philoſophers abſolutely determined, to be moſt naturall unto all.

At what age of her life this Maid began to fall into Trances and Ecſtaſies, I cannot find by the Storie, which is not digeſted into yeares. But from her firſt generall confeſſion, which ſhe made but 9. yeares old, [p. 6.20.] ſhe began to talk much of Gods preſence; and phanſie to her ſelf, that ſhe ſaw God viſibly, every time ſhe went to Church. And being asked whether ſhe ſuffered any diſtraction of ſenſes; ſhe ſaid, no; (I wonder who doth in that caſe:) and was believed. The firſt viſible fit, it ſeems, began in the Church, [p. 33.] with a trembling: ſo that ſhe let her Wax-candle, (which by the proper ceremonie of the day, ſhe held in her hand,) fall to the ground, and could not take it up. From that time, her viſions, it ſeems, began to be very frequent. and I find it obſerved, [p. 31.33.45.50.] that ſhe could ſeldome ſpeak, or expreſſe her ſelf, when ſhe had ſeen any thing; ſo that ſhe only reaped the benefit of thoſe great ſecrets and myſteries, which God is ſaid to have revealed unto her.

But from 21. of her life, [p. 38.54.] her ecſtaſies began to be very ſtrong, and would laſt three or four houres in a day ſo that ſhe did verily think her ſelf to be in heaven, ſometimes, [p. 39.] when ſhe was upon earth, at her ordinarie (as is noted) employment.

Pag. 34. (and 61.63.64.65.) of the Storie, Chriſt is ſaid to have drawn her ſoul into his. Pag. 45.46.47. to have taken poſſeſſion of her: and more particularly, (which the author of the relation profeſſeth not to underſtand,) to have marked her with a mark: and afterwards to have abided in her, by preſence, and by operation, to her laſt day.

Pag. 47. It is directly affirmed, that ſhe was for the moſt part, deprived of her naturall wit and underſtanding.

Pag. 52. She was one day tranſported beſides her ſelf in a Garden, and for the ſpace of an hour (which by the Relation is called, a strong operation of God,) continued ſaying over and over, God doth put his Power in me, God doth put his Wiſdome in me, and his Knowledge.

Pag. 54. &c. She often ſaw, and in ſome degree ſuffered (through fright, &c.) the pains of Hell. I know not at what time of her age; but it might be the firſt direct ecſtaſie ſhe had, for ought I can gather by the relation. She was, according to her own relation, [p. 59.] in a Cave, called S. Denys his Cave, becauſe by tradition, S. Denys, with divers other Martyrs, had inhabited it by the ſpace of two yeares; and therefore had in great reverence by the whole Convent. In that Cave being alone, (and let the Reader judge, whether that holy Cave alone, with the opinion they had of it, was not enough to put any melancholick maid, devoutly given, into an ecſtaſie:) ſhe ſaw Heaven and Hell, and the Soul of Chriſt in its purity.

Pag. 75. She is yet reported to have been exalted higher: for that the Soul of Chriſt (who was ſaid before to have drawn her Soul into his,) did draw her into an operation of the Holy Trinitie: in which operation ſhe is ſaid to have continued unto the end of her life. How this to be underſtood, muſt not be expected from me. All my care is, not to miſrelate any thing, or to make it worſe, by my tranſlation, then I find it.

Pag. 91. God puts upon her, (as our Storie tells us,) the care of the affairs of France: which ſhe did accept, and commend her ſelf unto God at the ſame time.

Pag. 101. She foretold ſomewhat of her death, that it ſhould not be a naturall death, nor by ordinary means. But it fell out otherwiſe, though the Storie doth endeavour to make it good: but in vain. For ſhe died of a generall Conſumption of the body, (the moſt naturall death that could happen to ſuch a life,) which ended in a continuall Fever, with a kind of Lethargie, or caros: very violent at the laſt; and ſo made an end of her. It ſeems ſhe did not think to die, when ſhe did, as our Storie tells us, [p. 115.117.] which I ſuppoſe would tell us no more of that, then it muſt needs.

She had ſome ſtrange ſights before her death. As for example; that there is a plenitude of God in all things, even to the leaſt Ant. which is very philoſophicall; but not very eaſie to be underſtood by ordinary people, and more apt to be miſtaken to ſome hereticall ſenſe; as ſomewhat was by the Manicheans, not much different.

Theſe, (not to ſpeak of her ſpirituall temptations, which were frequent and terrible, and ſome obſcure intimations of Miracles; for which we will rather commend the ingenuity of the Relator, conſidering what is ordinarily done by others, upon ſuch occaſions, then find fault:) theſe, I ſay, be the chief particulars, which her Storie doth afford: which as I propoſe to the learned Readers conſideration; ſo ſhall I not, ſubmitting to better judgements, ſtick in the mean time to declare mine own. Truely I do not ſee any cauſe to believe that in any of theſe many Viſions or Ecſtaſies, there was any thing at all ſupernaturall, either divine or diabolicall, more then is in every common diſeaſe: wherein we acknowledge as the hand of God alwayes; ſo the miniſtrie of the Devil, if not alwayes, very often, as was before declared. I conceive them all, both Viſions and Ecſtaſies, to have been the effect of pure melancholie; very agreeable to what hath happened unto other melancholick perſons, in other places. Whether I ſhould blame the ignorance, or the ſuperſtition of them that had to do with her, or both, I know not: but I think they were to blame, and that ſhe had ill luck to fall into ſuch hands. They do well to make her amends what they can, after her death: but I think it had been more charitable, to have uſed ſome means for the cure of her melancholy, by which (with Gods bleſſing upon the means alwayes to be preſuppoſed,) ſhe might have been preſerved in life. As for her expreſſions, of Chriſts drawing her ſoul into his, and the like; ſo agreeable, in effect, to thoſe of the Platoniſts, and Arab Philoſophers, the tearms only (Chriſt for God) changed: I have no ſuſpicion for all that, that ſhe was acquainted with them, nor with any ſecrets of that myſticall Theologie that came from them; but that naturally, according to the condition of her temper, ſhe fell into thoſe phanſies, which ſome enthuſiaſtick Philoſophers before, not by vertue of their Philoſophy, but through diſtemper of their enthuſiaſtick brains, had lighted upon.

I have expreſſed my ſelf the more freely in this buſineſſe, not that I take any pleaſure, or have any ambition at all, to oppoſe the judgement of others: which if I were ambitious to do, I could have found matter enough to buſie my ſelf, long before this: but becauſe I judged it a matter of great conſequence, not only for the preſervation of ſome lives, but of Truth, (more precious then many lives,) which hath in all Ages ſuffered by nothing more, then by pretended Enthuſiaſms; and of publick Peace, which hath often been diſturbed by ſuch, whether artifices, or mere miſtakes.

But I have not yet done with my Theologia myſtica: which being ſo proper to my ſubject, I muſt not paſſe it over ſuperficially. The Reader that is not learned, will have patience if I deſire to gratify them that are. Herſentius his authorities for this kind of Divinitie, ſo much magnified by him, are all either Heathen Philoſophers, (greateſt oppoſers of Chriſtianitie,) Plotinus, Proclus, Porphyrius, Iamblichus; or very late and inconſiderable writers, Johannes Ruſbrocius, Henricus Harphius, Ludovicus Bloſius, (or rather Thalerus,) and one Woman, Sancta Tereſia: not one word out of any ancient Father, (in that Chapter) Greek or Latine; not ſo much as out of S. Auguſtine, or Gregory the Great, or S. Bernard: who otherwiſe, of true Chriſtian Raptures, proceeding from intent love and admiration, grounded not upon Ignorance and ſelf-conceitedneſſe, but ſound Knowledge and Pietie; might have afforded matter for a bigger volume, then that whole Diſcourſe, with all that hath been written either by Dionyſius (ſo called,) or any other of that Sect, comes too. But I will deal very ingenuouſly with the Reader. There was one Maximus, in the dayes of Heraclius Emperour of Conſtantinople: of whom we are bound to ſpeak with honour, becauſe he ſuffered for the true Faith. Whether it were he, whoſe Greek Scholias are extant upon this Dionyſius, is doubted by ſome: but more probable that it is. This Maximus (beſides other works of his, ſome extant, ſome not,) hath written a Myſtagogia: which I ſuppoſe to be altogether of the ſame argument as this Myſtica Theologia of Dionyſius. It was publiſhed by David Hoeſchelius, a learned man, to whom we ow many other good books, but it hath not been my luck ever to ſee it. But though not that, yet I have ſeen and often read, ſometimes with admiration, ſometimes with indignation, another work of his, (not much known, I believe,) which he calleth his [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: printed at Paris, beſides later editions, very elegantly, by Guiliel. Morellius, an. Dom. 1560. fitted by remote allegoricall interpretations of Scripture, for Chriſtians; but written by him in imitation of Porphyrius, and other Heathens, their [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], as they call them; from whom alſo he hath taken ſome things verbatim. Theſe indeed we ſhall find this mysticall Theologie in its height, in divers places. I can eaſily believe that ſo holy a man, in his ordinary converſation, and ſo profound a Philoſopher, as he ſhews himſelf by his writings, might make good uſe of ſuch meditations, and elevations of thoughts; and yet keep himſelf within ſobrietie. but that it is a dangerous book otherwiſe for ordinary capacities, apt to turn all Religion and all Scripture (in weaker brains) into mere phanſie, and ^[44] Teutonick Chimericall extravagancies, I do, upon grounds of reaſon, as verily believe, as I do the former, charitably. I know not whether it be for the better, or for the worſe: but ſure I am, that his meaning is often miſtaken by the Latine Interpreter; whereof I ſhall give but one inſtance, becauſe of ſome further uſe that may be made of it. Centur. 2. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. His meaning is, according to the principles of this Divinitie, by him more at large explained in ſome former Aphoriſms, that by this immediate, intimate Union with God, by which he ſticks not to ſay, that the ſoul is actually Deified, all operations of the underſtanding do ceaſe. The Interpreter quite contrarie: Mens immediatam erga Deum unionem adepta, totis viribus in id incumbit, ut intelligat & intelligatur. That which deceived him, are the words, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], which ſo joyned, he did not underſtand to be put, as often, figuratively, to intimate an abſolute ceſſation of all underſtanding. So Gen. 31.29. either good or evil: where evil only was intended, properly. And Numb. 23.25. neither curſe them at all, nor bleſs them at all: where curſing was extremely deſired and endeavoured; and bleſſing only properly intended to be forbidden, And ſo I believe Matth. 12.14. three dayes and three nights, which hath ſo much troubled Expoſitors, ſhould be underſtood: three nights added only for the more emphaticall expreſſion of three dayes. Three dayes, really and truly; (though not three full dayes;) as men are wont to underſtand dayes ordinarily, not figuratively; and therefore ſet out by their contraries alſo, the nights. But in Eunapius certainly, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], is no more then, omnia humana contemnebat: whereas learned Hadr. Junius, tranſlating, Delicias ſuas, & excruciantem ſe aegritudinem exuit, makes Eunapius clearly to contradict himſelf, who both before and afterwards, ſets out Porphyrius, as plunged in deepeſt melancholie, and not likely to hold out much longer, had not Plotinus come to his ſuccour in time.

This mention of Eunapius puts me in mind of Alypius that Pygmie Philoſopher, who through continuall contemplation (if we may believe the ſtorie,) having reduced his bodie to almoſt nothing; Eunapius ſaith, (but there too miſtaken by the Latine Interpreter,) that the ſaying of Plato was verified in him, That whereas the ſouls of ordinary men were placed in their bodies; the bodies of holy men and Philoſophers were placed in their ſouls. But this is nothing to what we read of Ignatius Loyola, whoſe body was ſo transformed into ſoul, that he could lift and bear himſelf up in the air to a good height, without wings; as we ſhall find perchance in its proper place. For it was at his prayers only that he could do it, when he was at the height of the ſpirit, as my Author tells me.

But to return to Maximus, and what I intended of him. Although I honour his Sufferings, yet I do not think my ſelf bound by that to approve his Doctrine. Neither do I think that Photius had much better opinion of that work, then I have; who plainly cenſureth it, as an abortive, or adulterinum foetum. (wherein the Latine Interpreter, apparently ſwarving from the originall Greek, makes him ſay the contrary.) not that he doubted Maximus to be the Author; no more then he did of thoſe [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: concerning which he gives the Reader a large account before: but becauſe he judged neither the one nor the other, (being both of a ſtrain; thoſe Aporemata and theſe [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]:) worthy of that Maximus, the Author of thoſe Centuriae, De Charitate: which he much commends, and deſervedly. And why ſhould not the authoritie of ſo many ancient Fathers, and many of them Martyrs too, as well as he; who becauſe they neither practiſed it (though not unknown unto them, as excellent Philoſophers, ſome of them,) themſelves, this Myſticall Theologie I mean, nor any where in their writings commend it unto others, muſt needs be ſuppoſed to have condemned it; why not their authoritie, ſay I, more conſiderable, then the authoritie of one or two, ſo long after, and ſo much inferiour unto them? But beſides, how contrarie to the doctrine of beſt Shoolmen, I appeal to Thom. Aquinas, 2.2. quaeſtione 174. who there very ſolidly proveth and aſſerteth the excellencie of rationall intellectuall Chriſtian knowledge, above all propheſy: to whom alſo that excellent Rabbi Ben Maimon, the Aquinas of the Rabbins, doth agree in divers places of his More Nevochim, making it (rationall intellectuall Divinitie) the higheſt degree of propheſie: who alſo hath a Chapter there (of very good uſe, to keep men from running themſelves out of their right wits,) of moderation to be obſerved in Contemplation. I ſhall therefore conclude concerning this way of Theologie;

Firſt, that as it hath its origine from heathen Philoſophers, and by them recommended unto us, as the higheſt and moſt perfect way: ſo it is extremely derogatory to the Scriptures, and to the Doctrine of Chriſt, where no footſtep of it is to be ſeen; but contrarily, much againſt it, as it deprives a man of the uſe of Reaſon.

Secondly, that although it be granted, that ſome profound Philoſophers, by the advantage of ſuch and ſuch a naturall Diſpoſition, of a ſtrong, well-ſettled and temper'd brain, &c. may make ſome uſe of it to their own content: yet to commend it to ordinary people, and to women eſpecially, is to perſwade them to madneſſe; and to expoſe them to the illuſions of the Devil, alwayes readie to take ſuch advantages.

Thirdly, that the uſe of this Theologie, doth moſt properly belong unto Jeſuits, (which I would not have underſtood of any truly pious and peaceable amongſt them:) and Jeſuited Politicians, whether they call themſelves Lutherans, or Calviniſts, or otherwiſe; who having deſignes pro re nata upon the lives of Kings and Princes, (or whoever elſe they be, whom they would have out of the way,) have no better way, when open force doth fail, to bring their deſignes to paſſe, then by the hands of ſuch, whom they have brought up to this myſticall art. For what will not even a ſober man do, upon a ſtrong, whether right or wrong, apprehenſion of Heaven or Hell? How much more thoſe, who beſides their common obligation of blind obedience, by long, forced, wild contemplation▪ are become ecſtaticall, that is, fitted for any deſperate attempt?

Neither can I have any better opinion (in point of Sciences) of that Method, which of late years hath been propoſed by ſome, and by many (whom Plutarch would not have thought very wiſe, for looking with more admiration upon fiery Meteors, and other apparitions of the Air, then ever they did upon the Sun, by whom we enjoy all that is comfortable in this World;) gladly entertained. For my part, I never looked upon it as a New Method, as to the main end of it: knowing that Numa Pompilius long before, to make his Lawes received as Oracles, did his beſt to perſwade, that he did not come by them as other men did by theirs; but that they were the fruits of Caves, and retiredneſſe: not to ſpeak of what hath been deviſed by ſeverall Poets in that kind, to inhaunce their reputation. And it ſeems the Author did not altogether miſſe of his aim in that. But for the pretended end of it, to direct others; if he would have dealt ingenuouſly, he might in two or three lines, that had contained the names but of three or four herbs, have preſcribed a farre ſhorter way. I meddle not with his abilities, what ever they were. I believe he ſaw much in the Mathematicks; and he might, in divers other things: though I would not have any man to rely upon his demonſtrations, concerning either the being of a God, or the Immortalitie of the Soul. But his abilities I queſtion not: his Method, having ſo much affinitie with this Myſticall Theologie, againſt which I think too much cannot be ſaid, I could not paſſe it without ſome cenſure. I am one, I confeſſe, that think reaſon ſhould be highly valued by all creatures, that are naturally rationall. Neither do I think we need to ſeek the Image of God in man elſewhere, then in perfect Reaſon; ſuch as he was created in. Holineſſe and Righteouſneſſe were but fruits of it. Let others admire Witches and Magicians, as much as they will; who by their art can bring them their loſt precious things, and Jewels: I honour and admire a good Phyſician much more, who can (as Gods inſtrument) by the knowledge of nature, bring a man to his right wits again, when he hath loſt them: and I tremble (homo ſum, & humani à me nihil alienum puto:) when I think that one Mad man is enough to infect a whole Province. Somewhat to that purpoſe we have had already: and I doubt, whether by this there would have been one ſober man left in all Spain, had not the Alumbrados, or Illuminated ſect, which alſo pretended much to Contemplation, and thereby to Ecſtaſies and myſticall unions, been ſuppreſſed in time.

Here I ſhould have ended this Chapter, which hath taken up, I believe, the greateſt part of this whole Diſcourſe. But I promiſed ſomewhat of Mahomet: I muſt acquit my ſelf of that before. I have peruſed ſeverall relations of Greek Authors, ſet out by Sylburgius, an. Dom. 1595, concerning the beginning of Mahomet. They all agree, that a naturall diſeaſe was his firſt inducement. Some call it a Palſie; but more, and, I believe, more truly, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, an epilepſie, or epilepticall diſtemper: of which he made that advantage, as to beget himſelf Divine authority. Now to ſuch a diſeaſe, how naturally incidentall ſtrange Viſions and Apparitions are, by which the parties themſelves, deeming their phanſies and viſions, realities and truths, are often deceived; I appeal to former examples. I could have told of them too, that have thought books brought unto them by Angels, in their Ecſtaſies; and ſome ſuch other things, which may come ſomewhat near to Mahomet's caſe. Now whether he might not be deceived at firſt, before he uſed other Arts and Impoſtures, the better to countenance his Phrenſies, I propoſe it as a diſputable matter. In point of Mahometiſme, as to the horridneſſe of the deluſion, whether ſo or no, it is all one, I know. It makes it neither greater, nor leſſe. Neither do I make any queſtion, but that the Devil was a chief actor in the progreſſe of it. But when we ſhall conſider with our ſelves ſeriouſly, what theſe beginnings, that began with epilepticall Raptures and Ecſtaſies, and ſuppoſed revelations of Angels, and the like, came to afterwards; it would, it ſhould, I am ſure, (and to that end I mention him here,) make men the more warie, either how they give credit to ſuch fits and revelations of others; or how themſelves, by their ignorance or indiſcretion, expoſe themſelves to deluſion.

CHAP. IIII. Of Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme.

The Contents.

The nature and cauſes of Speech, a curious and uſefull ſpeculation: by the perfect knowledge whereof the deaf and dumb (ſo naturally) may be taught not only to underſtand whatſoever is ſpoken by others; as ſome (upon credible information) have done in England; but alſo to ſpeak and to diſcourſe, as one very lately, a Noble-man, in Spain. A Spaniſh book teaching that Art. Another way to teach the dumb to ſpeak, out of Valeſius. A dumb man, that could expreſſe himſelf, and understand others perfectly, by writing. Another uſe of this knowledge, conceited, but not affirmed. ¶ The dependance of reaſon, and ſpeech; both, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in Greek. Rhetorick, what it is; of what uſe; and whether abſolutely neceſſary. The matter and method of this Chapter, in four propoſitions or particulars. I. That divers ancient Orators did really apprehend themſelves inſpired, &c. Enthuſiaſm in point of ſpeech, uſed by ſome Ancients metaphorically, or figuratively: by ſome others, properly, for divine inſpiration. Longinus, Ariſtides, Apollonius in Philoſtratus, Quintilian, upon this ſubject. Seneca concerning the cauſes of high conceptions and expreſſions, inconstant to himſelf. His violent both ſtile, (in ſome places,) and ſpirit, noted. True valour and magnanimitie in meekneſſe, according to Ariſtotle. A place of Plato conſidered of. Prov. 16.1. The preparations, &c. II. That Rhetorick, or good language hath often had enthuſiaſtick operation upon others. Demagogie, anciently, how powerfull: the Athenians, particularly, blinded and bewitched by it. Acts 17.21. concerning the Athenians, illuſtrated. Philoſophicall Diſcourſes, what made them powerfull. Ancient Orators; Demoſthenes and Cicero: their language both read, and heard, how ſtrangely amazing and raviſhing; proved by ſome notable inſtances. The Sophiſtae of thoſe times, whoſe profeſſion, was, to amaze men both by ſet, & extemporary ſpeeches. Gorgias the firſt of that profeſſion, how much admired, & almoſt adored. Their uſuall Arguments. Their extemporarie facultie, or abilitie publickly and ſuddainly to diſcourſe of any ſubject that ſhould be propoſed unto them, proved by divers inſtances. Calliſthenes. The Tarſenſes of Aſia Adoleſcens ſine controverſia diſertus; in Aulus Gellius. This extemporary kind of ſpeaking (by many now fondly deemed inſpiration) why not ſo frequent in our dayes: ſome reaſons given for it. The learning of ſeverall tongues, &c. Syneſius his way of extemporary ſpeaking, much more ſtrange, and almost incredible. Petavius the Jeſuite, his tranſlation of Syneſius very faulty; and ſome examples of his miſtakes. III. Whence that apprehenſion of divine Inſpiration. Ardor, Impetus, in Latine Authors: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] in Greek Authors. God himſelf, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], according to H[•]ppocrates. Not Heathens only, but Ben Maimon, and Philo Judaeus, both learned Jewes, miſtaken in this matter. An obſervation of Ribera the Jeſuite conſidered of. Spiritus in Latine Poets: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or Zeal, in the N. T. diverſly taken, and diverſly (which we think ſhould not be;) tranſlated. IV. What cauſes, truly naturall, of thoſe wonderfull operations, miſtaken by many for divine and ſupernaturall. That ſome other cauſe beſides that which is generally apprehended, muſt be ſought or ſuppoſed, proved by the example of ſome notoriouſly wicked, as Nero, Dionyſius, &c. who nevertheleſſe took great pleaſure in the exhortations of Philoſophers, perſwading to goodneſſe and ſobriety. As alſo by the example of poor Mechanicks, who neglected their trade, to pleaſe their ears. Paſſages out of Seneca and Plinius ſecundus, to that purpoſe. Firſt then, The power and pleaſure of Muſick, in good language and elocution, proved by ſundrie all ho[•]ties, and by arguments taken from the very nature of ſpeech. Ezek. 33.31. &c. Muſonius. The [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or artificiall col[•]ocation of words in ſpeech, a great myſterie of Eloquence. Dionyſ. Hal[•]carn. his Treatiſe of that ſubject; and divers others. Contrarie faculties working the ſame effect. A paſſage of Plutarch conſidered of. Somewhat of the nature of letters and ſyllables, and who have written of them. Rhythmus, in matter of proſe or ſpeech, what it is. The Organs of ſpeech; and Greg. Nyſſen interpreted. Secondly, The pleaſure of the eies in good language. The nature of Metaphors and Allegories. Ariſtotle, Cicero, Plutarch, (corrected by the way,) and ſome others, concerning them▪ [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], what kind of figure, and how powerfull. Homer and Virgil, their proper praiſe, and incomparable excellencie. Opus emblematicum, vermiculatum, &c. The excellencie of that Art, and how imitated in the collocation of words. Dionyſ. Halicarn. and Hadrianus the Cardinall, their testimony concerning the raviſhing power of elegant Elocution. Ancient Orators, their adſcribing their extemporarie ſpeaking upon emergent occaſions to Neſcio quis Deus, or immediate Inſpiration: and Quintilian's judgement upon it. ¶ Ʋpon this occaſion, (as very pertinent to Enthuſiaſme in generall, though not to Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſm particularly,) a more generall conſideration of this Aliquis Deus, or Neſcio quis Deus, frequently alledged by the Ancients upon ſuddain occaſions, or evaſions. Paſſages out of Homer, Cicero, Plinius ſecundus, to that purpoſe. Plutarch his rule in ſuch caſes not allowed of. To make a particular providence of every thing that may be thought to happen extraordinarily, how deſtructive to Gods providence in generall. A place of Ariſtotle's conſider'd of. Cures, anciently, by Dreams and Revelations. M. A. Antoninus, the Roman Emperour. Divine revelations and apparitions in Dreams (upon other occaſions too) believed by Galen, &c. Sortes Homericae. Something in that kind amongſt Chriſtians alſo; and what to be thought, (if ſought and ſtudied) of it. Great caution to be uſed in ſuch things. Two extremes to be avoided; Unthankfulneſſe, and Superſtition.

IN this Chapter we are to conſider of the ſtrange, but natural effects of Speech; and of the cauſes of ſuch effects, both in them that ſpeak, and in them that hear: ſuch effects and ſuch cauſes, as come within the compaſſe of Enthuſiaſme, according to the apprehenſions and expreſſions of ancient Authors; which is the buſineſſe of this Treatiſe. But I will begin with ſome obſervations concerning Speech in general: which though they belong not to Enthuſiaſme properly; yet may prove not altogether impertinent to our further enquiries, that may have more immediate relation unto it; and otherwiſe too not unacceptable, perchance, to the curious and philoſophical Reader.

Few men, even they that conſider of many other things, take notice what a rare Art ſpeaking is; or ſo much as think of it, under the notion of an Art. The reaſon is, becauſe they were very little when they learned it: and though it were not without much labour and ſtriving; yet they had ſcarce wit enough to be ſenſible of it then, or at leaſt, not memory enough now, to remember what they thought of it when ſo young. It is a curious ſpeculation, to conſider what inſtruments nature hath provided for that uſe; what is the proper uſe of every inſtrument; what reſemblance thoſe inſtruments have to ſome ^[45] muſical inſtruments; what letters are formed by the tongue eſpecially, which by the teeth, which by the roof of the mouth, noſe, throat, lips, or otherwiſe; and by what concurrence, motions, flections and reflections, of ſuch and ſuch of thoſe inſtruments, inwardly; and by what ſhapes, ſignes, and poſtures of the mouth, lips, and chinne, outwardly, the whole buſineſſe is managed.

There be many myſteries and ſecrets of nature belonging to this Art, very worthy to be known. But the uſe of this knowledge, is farre greater then the curioſity. For by the perfect knowledge of theſe things, thoſe that are born deaf, and by conſequent, naturally dumb, are taught to ſpeak. Whereof a rare example, in the perſon of a Noble-man, was lately ſeen in Spain: of which many living in England, perſons of worth and eminency, have been both eye and ear-witneſſes. And for the better ſatisfaction, and benefit withall of poſterity, a book was ſet out by him that was his maſter, under this title; Arte para enſennar de hablar los mudos: whereof ſome copies have been in England. Neither could this dumb perſon only ſpeak himſelf, but was able alſo to underſtand what was ſaid by others, in ſuch a language, and at ſuch a diſtance. The like whereof (as to this laſt) hath been ſeen in England alſo, if I may credit the relation of two grave Divines: whereof the one affirmed concerning a man, the other concerning a woman, both, deaf and dumb; which nevertheleſſe at a certain diſtance, and by diligent obſervation of the motions of the mouth and face, could tell (and would readily anſwer to it by ſigns,) what was ſpoken unto them. But of the woman I was told particularly, that ſhe could underſtand them only that were beardleſſe: which is a very probable circumſtance; as they can beſt judge, who not onely have ſtudied the inward fabrick of the mouth, by which words, with aire, are immediately formed; but alſo the outward conſtitution of the mouth and face in general, conſiſting of ſo many ſeveral muſcles, nerves, and what elſe ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c.) beſt known unto exact Anatomiſts: as I find them curiouſly ſet out and deſcribed by Galen in his books [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in the fourth book, and elſewhere.

But that Spaniard, the Author of that book, was not the firſt that taught the deaf and dumb to ſpeak: as may appear by theſe words of Franciſcus Valeſius, De ſacra philoſophia, cap. 3. Petrus Pontius monachus Sancti Benedicti, amicus meus, natos ſurdos (res mirabilis) docebat loqui, non alia arte, quam docens primum ſcribere, res ipſas digito primum indicando, quae characteribus illis ſignificarentur; deinde ad motus linguae qui characteribus reſponderent, provocando: that is, Petrus Pontius, a Benedictine Monk, a friend of mine, was wont (a wonderful thing!) to teach men that were born dumb, to ſpeak: which he did by no other Art, then firſt teaching them to write, firſt pointing at the things themſelves with his finger, that were expreſſed by ſuch and ſuch letters or characters; then uſing them to ſuch motions of the tongue, which were anſwerable to thoſe characters. Which words, though not many, may ſatisfie any man that hath judgement, concerning the poſſibility of the thing. Rodolphus Agricola, a man well known, and yet for the good uſe that may be made of his writings, well deſerving to be yet better known unto all Scholars, affords unto us this notable example: Surdum vidi, ^[46] ſaith he, &c. I my ſelf have ſeen one deaf from his infancy, and conſequently dumb, to have attained unto this by art, that whatſoever another did write, he was able to read and underſtand; and himſelf alſo, even as any other that can ſpeak, whatſoever was in his mind, he could perfectly expreſſe by writing. So he. I believe this is he whom Ludovicus Vives, in his book De Anima, did intend: where, upon occaſion of Ariſtotles noted axiome, that they that want the ſenſe of hearing, are not capable of diſcipline, he hath theſe words: Quo magis miror, fuiſſe mutum & ſurdum natum, qui literas didicerit. Fides ſit penes Rodolphum Agricolam, qui id memoriae prodidit, & ſe illum vidiſſe affirmat. though the expreſſion (qui literas didicerit) be ſomewhat ambiguous, and more likely to be conſtrued of one that had attained to ſome learning, as learning is taken commonly for Univerſity learning, then of one that had learned to read and write only. However it is unqueſtionable, that he that had attained to that faculty of writing, to underſtand, and to be underſtood generally, as Agricola deſcribeth this man, was very capable of further progreſſe; and not incapable I think, of any liberall Art, or Science, if further pains had been taken with him. But this is another way, by writing; not by bare obſervation of the inſtruments of ſpeech, whether internal or external; concerning which our obſervation began. However this ſheweth a poſſibility of the thing, by natural means: which granted, any other cauſe no leſſe natural and probable may the ſooner be believed.

But there is yet another uſe to be made of this knowledge, which to ſome perſons and occaſions may be very conſiderable. It is not for the dumb, this that I mean: but for them that can ſpeak; yet would be glad ſometimes perchance, upon ſome ſpeciall occaſions, to know how they might ſpeak, and be ſpoken unto at a convenient diſtance, without a tongue, or noiſe, or almoſt ſign diſcernable unto others. But this perchance may be but my phanſie, and I ſhall not adventure many words upon it. But certainly the conſideration of ſpeech in generall (which I began with,) doth afford many both curious and uſefull ſpeculations; and is a ſpeculation, which once ſo much pleaſed me, that I had begun a Diatriba, De ortu & natura ſermonis: which alſo, though not ended, was once half written out for the preſſe; but for want of an amanuenſis, it went not further; and is not very likely now, ſo long after, ever to come to any thing. Yet I have been the more willing to mention theſe particulars, to excite ſome body elſe to undertake ſo plauſible an argument, which may to many be both pleaſing in the ſpeculation, and profitable to many purpoſes. I have done with my Prologue, and ſhall now proceed to the main buſineſſe.

There is not any thing more natural unto man, as he is a man, (that is a rational creature,) then Reaſon. Whatſoever may ſeem natural unto man beſides, (in this life,) ſome one or two not very conſiderable things, as laughing perchance, or weeping, excepted, belongeth unto brutes as well as unto man; and no part of man therefore, as man, properly. Speech is the interpreter, or miniſter of reaſon, that is, of rationall thoughts, or thoughts ingendred in and by a rational ſoul. Which according to their object may be diſtinguiſhed into ſenſuall, civile, and intellectuall: but alwayes rationall, as they flow from a rationall cauſe or principle, which is the ſoul. Whence it is that brute beaſts, though ſome may be taught to utter many words, and lines perchance; yet cannot be ſaid, properly, to ſpeak, becauſe they underſtand not, truly and really, any thing that they ſay. Though ſome may be brought to ſome kind of practical, or experimental apprehenſion of what is ſpoken unto them; as a Horſe, or a Dog may be ruled by ſome words, which (by common uſe of mans firſt inſtitution,) ſhall be proper to the actions which they perform: yet even then they underſtand not thoſe words, as words, but ſounds only. From that ſubordination of ſpeech unto reaſon it is, that the Grecians comprehend both (which nevertheleſſe doth cauſe ambiguity ſometimes,) in one word, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. If therefore Reaſon be ſo natural unto man, and Speech unto Reaſon; it is no wonder, if as Reaſon is the inward principle, by which the actions of men are guided; ſo Speech be the moſt powerfull external inſtrument to the ſame end, in reference to others.

Rhetorick (or rhetorical ſpeech,) is a ſpeech dreſſed with certain devices and allurements, proper to pleaſe and to perſwade. The uſe of ſuch devices and allurements, is ſometimes good, by the advantage of ſome ſenſual delight, the more powerfull to inforce, or to inſinuate ſomewhat that of it ſelf is true, right, or reaſonable. However, it is a very diſputable point, whether bare ſpeech, if well handled, be not ſufficient, nay moſt available to perſwade, in things of moſt weight. For thoſe actions are beſt grounded, that are grounded upon judgement, upon which bare Speech hath moſt direct influence; as Rhetorick hath upon the Affections: and the fruits of a convicted judgement by calm reaſon, are likely to be more durable then thoſe that are the effects of any paſſions, or affections, ſtirred up by rhetorical powers. But it is an ample ſubject, upon which Seneca is very copious, and in my judgement hath done very well; though judicious Ariſtotle in his Rhetoricks, ^[47] in two words hath comprehended all that needeth to be ſaid in that argument. But this yet, before I leave it; That the providence of God, for the prevention of all doubts and ſcruples, was great, in that he would not lay the foundation of the Chriſtian Faith, as not in the force of armes, ſo neither of eloquence, and artificial ſpeech; which is often inſiſted upon by S. Paul: as 1 Cor. Not with wiſdome ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: thoſe men that were moſt admired for their eloquence, whom we are to ſpeak of, were anciently called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉].) of words or ſpeech: ch. 7.17. Not with excellency of ſpeech or of wiſdome: ch. 11.1. Not with enticing words of mans wiſdome: v. 4. Not in the words which mans wiſdome teacheth: v. 13. of the ſame chapter, and elſewhere. All which, though moſt true, as would eaſily be demonſtrated, if need were: yet it cannot be denyed, that S. Paul in ſome kind and upon ſome ſubjects, is as eloquent as ever man was; not inferior to Demoſthenes (whom I have ſome reaſon to believe, that he had read very well:) or Aeſchines, or any other anciently moſt admired. But this is by the way onely.

The chief things I propoſe to my ſelf, as was before intimated, in this Chapter, and which I conceive moſt pertinent to my undertaking, are theſe:

Firſt, That divers ancient Orators did apprehend themſelves, and were ſo apprehended by divers others, to be inſpired, or agitated by ſome higher power then bare nature could pretend unto.

Secondly, That the power of Oratory hath been ſuch in many Ancients, as that it hath had enthuſiaſtick operation upon others.

Thirdly, Whence that apprehenſion of inſpiration might probably proceed.

But fourthly, and laſtly, What cauſes truly natural, can be given of thoſe wonderfull operations of Rhetorick, which have been miſtaken by many for ſupernatural.

I. I will not take advantage of the words, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or any other equivalent unto them: becauſe often by Greek Authors uſed figuratively, where no real Enthuſiaſme or ſupernaturall agitation, ſo farre at leaſt as can be collected from the words, is intended. Aristotle in his Rhetoricks, hath the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], upon this argument, in one Chapter twice. Dionyſius Longinus, a very great maſter of Rhetorick, (of whom Chriſtians are bound to think the better, for his candid and ingenuous judgement of Moſes his expreſſions about the Creation of the World; ſo contrary, and therefore the more conſiderable, to Galen his impertinent exceptions:) this Longinus, in that ſmall book of his, as now extant, inſcribed [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], hath many words to that purpoſe. As when he ſaith ſpeaking of that kind of language, which when I was a Boy in the Univerſity,^[48] was called ſtrong lines; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Many, men, ſaith he, whilst they ſtrain their wits to find ſomewhat that is very extraordinary, and may reliſh of ſome rapture, or Enthuſiaſme; they plainly rave, [or, play the fools,] and not raviſh. The ſame Longinus again, ſpeaking of the power of Rhetorick, in rhetoricall expreſſions: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉].^[49] And again, p. 61. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. And again, pag. 69. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. And of Plato, p. 113. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: &c. It appears by thoſe qualifications, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that he intended it only after a ſort, as things may be compared, not really. Indeed Longinus, though a heathen by profeſſion, yet was not very ſuperſtitious; as may appear by this, that he durſt challenge Homer, (upon whom eſpecially all heatheniſh Theology was grounded,) though but a Poet, of Atheiſme and groſſe abſurdity, for making his Gods to fight with men; and not only to fight, but receive wounds alſo. But Ariſtides on the other ſide, an excellent Orator, it cannot be denied, and rational enough in other things, but as very a bigot, as ever was, of a heathen; who phanſied Gods in every dream, and tells us of ſo many wonderfull cures by nocturnal ſights and revelations; who gave credit to the very Gypſies, in telling of fortunes: he not only of himſelf particularly, in his [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], ſpeaks very poſitively and peremptorily, as inſpired by God, in his Orations; (of which more afterwards:) but of Rhetorick in general, in his 1 a. contra Platonem, as poſitively and confidently maintaineth, not only that it is the gift of God, (which might very well be allowed;) as all other good and uſefull things are; but alſo, if right and excellent, that it comes by immediate inſpiration, as Oracles and Propheſies; without Study or Learning, or ſo much as Nature. Though indeed afterwards in the ſame long Oration, becauſe he would not be wanting to his profeſſion in any kind, he takes in both Nature, and Art, or Learning too; and would have them to belong to Rhetorick, though not to all Orators, as he maintaineth of immediate inſpiration. Such another as Aristides, for matter of ſuperſtition, but more dangerous for craft and ſubtilty, and a great Magician too, if all be true which even by ancient Chriſtians is recorded of him, was Apollonius, that wandring Philoſopher; (oppoſed by ancient Heathens, who adſcribed Deity unto him, to Chriſt:) who being asked by the Governor of Rome under Nero, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], what was his profeſſion;^[50] gave him this bold anſwer; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, Inſpiration (by inſpiration underſtanding chiefly, as in all likelyhood, his perſwaſive and bewitching rhetorick, whereof he gave ſuch proof in all places:) and how men ſhould pray, and ſacrifice unto the Gods; or, by what prayers and ſacrifices the Gods are beſt ſerved and pleaſed. But Apollonius was an extraordinary man, that cannot be denied: and it is not impoſſible but that he might be inſpired indeed; but by what power, may appear by all his deeds and endeavours: of which Euſebius in his Treatiſe againſt Hierocles, that had written of him of purpoſe to preferre him before Chriſt, hath taken a brief ſurvey, ſhewing great moderation (which is not ordinary,) in his Cenſures. Not to meddle then with ſuch extraordinary men and examples: That it was a common opinion among the Scholars of his time, that Rhetorick and good lines came more by Enthuſiaſme then otherwiſe, may appear by Quintilian; who having elſewhere deſcribed the phantaſtick, or rather phrenetick geſture and behaviour of divers, when they were to compoſe; in his tenth book and twelfth chapter, he hath theſe words: Ʋt poſſimus autem ſcribere etiam plura celerius, non exercitatio modo praeſtabit, in qua ſine dubio multum eſt; ſed etiam ratio: ſi non reſupini ſpectanteſque lectum, & cogitationem murmure agitantes, exſpectaverimus quid obveniat; ſed quid res poſcat, quid perſonam deceat, quod ſit tempus, qui judicis animus, intuiti, humano quodam modo acceſſerimus. This, I think, is the reading of moſt editions: which I will not warrant to be perfect; though more perfect, I believe, and correct, then that of Aldus his edition, which in this place, certainly, goes furtheſt from the true. A little labour perchance might help the buſineſſe. My opinion is, that one, and but one word is wanting, which by reaſon of the affinity with the former, might very well excidere, or be paſſed over: as is very frequent in all Manuſcripts. But ſince he may be underſtood without it, I will ſpare my further labour.

But it is well worthy our obſervation, that Seneca the Philoſopher,^[51] ſo learned a man, doth ſeem to have been of that opinion too: Ne poteſt grande aliquid, & ſupra caeteros loqui, niſi mota mens. Cum vulgaria & ſolita contempſit, inſtinctuque ſacro ſurrexit excelſior; tunc demum aliquid cociuit grandius ore mortali. Non poteſt ſublime quicquam & in arduo poſitum contingere, quamdiu apud ſe eſt. Deſciſcat oportet à ſolito, & efferatur, & mordeat fraenos, & rectorem rapiat ſuum, eoque ferat, quo per ſe timuiſſet ^[52] eſcendere. Here is perfect Enthuſiaſme, with alluſion to the Sibylls, and ſuch others as were generally conceived to be poſſeſt. Yet, whether Seneca himſelf did believe ſo much, as his words ſeem to import, is a queſtion: it being his manner, to be very high and tumid in his expreſſions; which nevertheleſſe a ſober reader will not allwayes take to the utmoſt of what they will bear. But to his reaſons and arguments. I believe Ariſtotle, here quoted by Seneca, that all tranſcendent wits are ſubject to ſome mixture: neither do I believe that ever any great work, that was a fruit of the brain, and that begot admiration, was atchieved, but was alſo the fruit of ſome natural enthuſiaſme; if all elevation of the mind above ordinary thoughts and conceptions, (to which, among other helps, a generous contempt of the world doth much conduce;) muſt be ſo called. But if Seneca thought really, as Ariſtides did; what he chiefly grounded upon, ſhall be examined in due place. In the mean time, before I leave Seneca, the Reader may take notice of his inconſtancy; who, what he doth here ſo gloriouſly ſet out, doth not ſtick elſewhere to adſcribe unto ſavageneſſe and immanity: the proper temper of Tyrants, and bloud-thirſty men. Ac neſcio quomodo, ſaith he, ingema immania & inviſa, ^[53] materia foecundiori, expreſſerunt ſenſus vehemontes & concitatos. Nullam adhuc vocem audivi ex bono lenique animoſam. For his Senſus vehementes & [••]ncitati, to be natural enough to ſuch a diſpoſition, we would not quarrel with him. But that no man, naturally good and mild, ever ſpake couragiouſly, or never was the author of any apophthegme, that reſented of a gallant ſpirit: which is in effect as much as to ſay, that goodneſſe or meekneſſe, and a gallant ſpirit, are things incompatible: is a ſpeech that reſenteth little of either a Philoſopher, or a ſober man. The contrary, quite contrary to this, is divinely aſſerted, and proved by the Prince of Philoſophers, divine Ariſtotle, both in ^[54] his Ethicks and Politicks. But we need not, in this, appeal to any other then Seneca himſelf, Epiſt. 85. Non eſt enim fortitudo &c. and elſewhere. We muſt therefore conclude, that Seneca in this place was, againſt reaſon, overſwayed by his own genius, being a man of a violent ſpirit naturally, as appears by him in many places; and would have appeared much more, had not Reaſon and Philoſophy moderated it: and that by animoſam vocem we muſt underſtand, rather violent and furious, ſuch as he hath ſometimes, then truly magnanimous.

I think this is enough to my firſt point, to ſatisfie the reader not verſed in ancient Authors, that it is ſo as I have ſaid. Yet I muſt crave the liberty to conſider of a notable paſſage in Plato. Not that I think it very needfull; nor perchance, if well underſtood, very pertinent: but becauſe it may ſeem, by reaſon of the words, ſo pertinent unto ſome others that ſhall light upon it, that I may be blamed, for the conſiderableneſſe of the Author, if I ſhould leave it out. In a Dialogue of his, inſcribed Menon, wherein he treateth of vertue, whether it may be taught, &c. in the end of it he hath theſe words: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. that is, As we rightly call all Oracle-Prieſts, Prophets, and Poets, divine; ſo may we as rightly ſtyle divine and divinely-agitated, all civil Orators: theſe alſo, whenſoever they ſpeak publickly, as they ought to ſpeak, of great matters and with like eloquence, being certainly inſpired by God, and plainly poſſeſt [at all ſuch times,] as not underſtanding any thing themſelves, of thoſe things which they ſpeak and deliver. Here firſt of all I will ſuppoſe, that the Reader not read in Plato, will ſtick at thoſe words, as not underſtanding any thing, &c. It is true indeed, that as he compares them to Oracle-Prieſts and Prophets, who for the moſt part underſtood not what they ſaid themſelves, the words may be thought pertinent enough: but how truly either Poets or Orators may be compared unto ſuch, (if the compariſon be ſo ſtrictly preſſed,) will be the queſtion. Yes, rightly enough, according to Plato's doctrine; who diſtinguiſheth (in that very Dialogue) between [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], right opinions, and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, the ſcience or knowledge of right opinions, grounded upon cleare demonſtrations of ſound reaſon. Which untill a man have attained unto, Plato's opinion is, that whatſoever he doth, though right and juſt, according as his preſent opinion and apprehenſion leads him, yet he doth it ignorantly; and is ſtill liable to do the contrary at another time, and to think that juſt and right, untill his opinion be turned into ſcience. Though therefore, if things be ſtrictly examined, there is great difference between Poets, or Orators, and thoſe Oracle-Prieſts and Prophets, in point of knowledge, generally; becauſe theſe did not ſo much as grammatically underſtand, what they did utter: yet in point of true knowledge, which preſuppoſeth the conſideration of cauſes, &c. they are ſaid by Plato to know nothing, no more then thoſe. But now to the point of Inſpiration. Had not Plato ſo joyned Poets and civil Orators together; though it may be he did not intend an abſolute conjunction of theſe neither, in all reſpects, no more then his ſimilitude of Poets and Orators, with Oracle-Prieſts and Prophets, will hold in all reſpects; but had not he ſo joyned them, I ſhould have made no queſtion, but that his aſſertion herein had been very ſound and orthodox: to wit, that when great States-men, Princes and Senators make publick ſpeeches unto the people about great matters, as peace or warre, (for of ſuch men and matters eſpecially his words are to be underſtood, as appeareth by the perſons by him mentioned before, Themiſtocles, Ariſtides and the like;) and ſuch other things; that God, whoſe providence hath an influence, more or leſſe, upon all events, doth move them to ſpeak thoſe things, which may conduce to thoſe ends Himſelf hath forecaſt, or condeſcended unto: whether by permiſſion only, or by approbation; to puniſh, or to bleſſe; or any other way, beſt known unto himſelf. Which is no more, I believe, then was intended by Solomon, when he ſaith, The preparations of the heart are in man: but the anſwer of the tongue is from the Lord: Proverb. 16. ver. 1. I vary ſomewhat from our Engliſh Tranſlation, which herein varies much in ſenſe (though the words ſeem to be the ſame,) from the beſt, both Tranſlators and Expoſitors. But we have warrant enough from the ninth verſe, where the ſame thing in other words is repeated, and well expreſſed, there, in our Engliſh; A mans heart deviſeth his way: but the Lord directeth his ſteps. But I have done with Plato.

II. Our ſecond point is, a conſideration of the efficacy of ancient Rhetorick. I will not inſiſt upon Demagogie, ſo called anciently, though it be the chiefeſt, and almoſt only Oratory in moſt places, either uſed or deſired. But I will not meddle with it, becauſe it may be conceived, that divers other things, in ſuch matters of State and Government, might concurre to produce thoſe bewitching effects, for which it became ſo infamous, where moſt uſed. I remember a witty paſſage (if I may ſo farre digreſſe,) in Thucydides, where an ancient Orator gives this character of the Athenians, ^[55] (Athens being the place where Rhetorick had its firſt birth, and was brought to an height greater then it ever had in any other place,) that they were a people, that did hear with their eyes, and ſee with their ears: meaning thereby, that they gave ordinarily, in matters of greateſt concernment, more credit to the ſmooth bewitching language of their Orators and Demagogues, being led by them to many actions contrary to all ſenſe and reaſon, yea and their own proper intereſt; then they gave to their own eyes, which otherwiſe, if not ſo mightily overſwayed and clouded by their eares, would eaſily have diſcerned the truth of things, and their own folly. But if that were not worth a digreſſion, this now to be added may, perchance: that the Greek Scholiaſt, upon that very place, (who by ſome learned men is thought very ancient:) hath a character of the Athenians, which agrees verbatim with that of S. Luke's, Acts 17. ver. 21. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉].

I will confine my ſelf, as near as I can, to ſuch examples and inſtances, where nothing but bare language, all other intereſts laid aſide, (nay ſometimes bare language, againſt all other intereſts,) can be ſuſpected to have been operative. Neither ſhall I, for the ſame reaſon, inſiſt upon ſome notable effects of ſome philoſophical Diſcourſes, by which ſome extremely vicious in their lives, were ſuddenly reclaimed, and ſo much changed, as that they became great examples of vertue to all after-ages. We could produce the teſtimonies of ancient Fathers of the Church, as well as of heathen Writers for it, if need were. But I ſhould do true Philoſophy much wrong, to adſcribe that unto Rhetorick, which was her proper work, though not without ſome Rhetorick perchance. I ſhall rather ſay with Seneca, ^[56] Rapuit illos, inſtigavitque rerum pulchritudo, non verborum inanium ſonitus; that is, Not the ſound of vain [or empty] words, but the excellency of the matter delivered by thoſe words, was it that wrought upon them ſo powerfully. who nevertheleſſe ſhews very well afterwards the good uſe of skilfull compoſure, as we ſhall in the progreſſe of this Diſcourſe, have occaſion to ſhew more at large. That we may keep our ſelves therefore within the bounds of Rhetorick, and yet not ſuch Rhetorick neither, that ſhould be verborum inanium ſonitus; but ſuch, wherein all artificiall ornaments of good language are moſt eminent; we will pitch upon them eſpecially, whoſe very profeſſion and proper character, by which they were known from others, whether Philoſophers or Orators, was [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, ostentation; and their end, (as themſelves profeſſed,) and work, in reference to others, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], amazement. And theſe were the [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or Sophiſts, then called, as by others commonly, ſo by themſelves; who thought that title more honorable, then that of either Orator, or Philoſopher: and in very deed, raiſed it to that height of eſtimation, under ſome Emperours, that even Princes and Noble-men were ambitious of it themſelves; and thought it no diſparagement to their greatneſſe, to ſeek unto them that were ſuch really, for their friendſhip, and to repair to their Schools and Oratories, to be their Auditors.

But before I ſpeak of them, becauſe my ſubject is Rhetorical Enthuſiaſme in general, I muſt not do thoſe famous, and truly incomparable Orators (for no Age we know of, ever brought forth the like, or will in haſte, probably:) Demosthenes and Cicero, that wrong, as to paſſe them in ſilence. For Demoſthenes, I ſhall ſay no more of him, neither need I am ſure, then this, that Dionyſius Habicarnaſſeus, a man of great abilities himſelf in point of eloquence, and of great judgement (his chiefeſt praiſe, and profeſſion) to judge of the abilities of others, rather ſevere, then favorable in moſt of his Cenſures, doth very ſoberly deliver and proteſt of himſelf, that when he did ſet himſelf to read any of Demoſthenes his Orations, he did plainly [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that is,^[57] that he was really beſides himſelf, being filled with ſtrange paſſions, and amazement, not able to keep one place, nor knowing what he did, or how to expreſſe himſelf. Whereby, ſaith he, we may gueſſe how thoſe of his time, that heard him, and were intereſted themſelves in thoſe buſineſſes, (the ſubject of thoſe Orations,) were affected: when the bare reading hath ſuch operation upon us, ſo little concerned in them, and ſo long after. But may my Reader ask, perchance, Will the reading of Demoſthenes work the like now, upon every one that reads him, in his own language; or did then, in thoſe dayes, when this Dionyſius wrote, as it did upon him? No; it did not, I believe, not even then; nor will now, certainly. For I have been preſent at admirable raviſhing muſick, as I have thought, and moſt others that were there; and yet have heard ſome then and there alſo preſent profeſſe, that they were not at all affected with it: who nevertheleſſe, did alſo profeſſe to be much delighted with ſome other kind. And he that ſhould ſet a three-peny Bauble, in compariſon, varniſhed with many curious colours, ſet out with gold and ſilver; and ſome old decayed piece, of ſome ancient Carver, Painter, or Statuary, of great fame and reputation; both theſe before ſome Country-man, or any other not skilfull: it is a great chance, if the Bauble be not preferred before the other, though perchance by men of judgement deemed invaluable; and de facto purchaſed at a great rate. This may be one reaſon why all men are not equally affected with ſuch incomparable pieces: but we ſhall have more of that, before we have done with this Chapter. However, though not all equally that heard him, neither, I believe; yet certain it is by the teſtimony of all Hiſtories, that moſt that heard him when he lived, after they had heard him a while, would be ſo affected with it, that they had not power of themſelves, but were carried by him whether he would, and forced to do many things againſt their own judgements and reſolutions: as Aeſchynes, his great enemy and profeſt antagoniſt, doth himſelf acknowledge; who therefore doth plainly charge him of no leſſe then [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, Sorcery, or Enchantment, but yet ſuch Enchantment, as he doth acknowledge merely to proceed from the excellency of his Language, and artificial Compoſure. As for Cicero, of whom judicious Quintilian doth paſſe this judgement,^[58] (which was Pliny the later his judgement alſo, and of all the learned Ancients:) that he may think well of his own proficiency, who begins to reliſh Cicero above all other Authors; yet for all that, is very fearfull to equal him to Demoſthenes: of him, beſides what he writes of himſelf, that not only the parties themſelves accuſed by him, when they ſhould have ſpoken for themſelves, but even their Advocates, though bold enough, as approved and exerciſed Orators otherwiſe, have been ſtruck by his Oratory into ſuch amazement,^[59] that they could not ſpeak one word; in ſo much, that ſome complained openly, venenis ereptam ſibi memoriam, that they were really bewitched: I ſhall content my ſelf, and my reader, I hope, with a relation that I find in Plutarch, (though not upon his own credit,^[60] but upon common fame,) which is this. In the Civil warres between Caeſar and Pompeius, among many others of the better ſort that had followed Pompey, one was Ligarius: who not only had followed Pompey, but ſtuck to his party after his death, to the very laſt. In ſo much that Caeſar, though (as naturally very clement) he had pardoned and reſtored many others, yet was reſolved concerning Ligarius, and had already been heard to ſpeak of him, as of a condemned man, before ever Cicero appeared to his defence. However, partly out of reſpect to his perſon, and partly good opinion of his parts, he was willing to hear what Cicero could ſay. But when he had begun, and was now pretty well entered in the buſineſſe, uſing his beſt art, as, by pathetical expreſſions, and commemorations of thoſe ſad times, and doubtfull events of fierceſt encounters, and otherwiſe, to move; ſo, to inſinuate, by graceful words: Caeſar was ſo affected, that his very face ſuffering many changes in a little time, ſufficiently bewrayed the inward commotion of his ſoul: untill at laſt, paſſion and amazement had ſo wholly poſſeſt him, that his whole body began to tremble; ſo that he let ſome papers fall to the ground out of his hands, becauſe he was not able to hold them. and in concluſion, Cicero had no ſooner done ſpeaking, then Caeſar, without any further deliberation, acquitted him for whom he had ſpoken.

Well; of Demoſthenes and Cicero, ſo famous in all Ages, and ſo much admired by all the beſt Wits of all Ages, happily ſo much as we have ſaid, may paſſe without any great difficultie: but now we come to the Sophiſtae; of whoſe profeſſion generally, (having no other end, moſt of them, but the praiſe and admiration of the people;) I profeſſe my ſelf to have little better opinion, then of ordinary Jugglers and Mountebanks. Of ſuch to tell the world in what admiration they have been anciently, and what wonders they did among men, with their ſmooth and voluble tongues; although I ſhall tell nothing but upon good ground, and what I my ſelf believe to be true; yet I do not almoſt know how to expect from others, not verſed in ancient Authors, that I ſhould be believed: neither indeed can I write my ſelf ſuch things, without ſome indignation and reluctancy, out of a deep ſenſe and commiſeration of the vanity of man: whether we conſider the Sophiſtae themſelves and their performances; or thoſe that were ſo readily bewitched by their rhetorick, and ſo ſet upon their admiration, for what they performed. But I hope, and upon that hope I take theſe paines, that the benefit unto the Reader may be conſiderable, when we come to the conſideration of the cauſes, by the underſtanding whereof much error and deluſion, very frequent in the world, may be prevented.

The firſt of the profeſsion was one Gorgias, who lived when Plato lived. We ſhall begin with him, and end with him too, as to particular inſtances, for ought I know: ſince that by him, (who as he was firſt in time, ſo in credit, in all after-Ages;) may all the reſt of that ſect be ſufficiently known. This Gorgias, being a man of excellent naturall parts himſelf, obſerving how much credit one Prodicus, of his time, had got with his tongue, going up and down the countrey, from town to town, and from village to village, with no other paſſe, nor ware, then ſomewhat (whether in paper, or memorie,) he had deviſed and compoſed at home by way of exhortation to men, to embrace vertue rather then pleaſure, by the example of Hercules, (the common talk of all men and women in thoſe dayes,) ſomewhat dramatically and pithily ſet out; which although it were alwayes, and every where, but one and the ſame ſubject, yet was entertained every where with great concourſe of people, and begot him great love and fame, both farre and near: this Gorgias obſerving, was thereby much incouraged to apply himſelf to the ſtudy of eloquent and readie language; and beſides continual exerciſes, which much improved his naturall abilities, was very happy in deviſing ſeverall ſchemes and figures of Rhetorick, that had not been thought of before: though later ages, whether more exact, or more nice, did not approve of all his inventions; as by Longinus, Hermogenes, and other maſters of that Art, may appear. But whatever later Ages thought of him, he ſped ſo well in his own, that incouraged by former ſucceſſe, he adventured at laſt to ſhew himſelf in the greateſt ſet, or ſolemn aſſembly of people, that I think ever was in any part of the world; and that was at the Olympick Games, ſolemnized by concourſe of almoſt all Nations, in a place of Greece, every fifth year: from whence alſo the nobleſt Computation of time, (among heathens,) commonly called the Olympiads, had its origine. There Gorgias appeared among others, that came to make themſelves known, and to get immortall honour by their unmatchable performances. And he appeared not only in, and with ſet and premeditated ſpeeches; for which nevertheleſſe, he got ſuch applauſe, as if he had been the God of Eloquence himſelf, rather then an eloquent man: but alſo, which had never been known before, offered himſelf publickly to ſpeak readily, without any preparation or meditation at all, of any ſubject, or argument, that ſhould be propoſed unto him by any man. From that place and time, Gorgias departed ſo glorious, that it might have been thought altogether impoſſible to make his fame greater in the world, then it was. Yet he got ſome increaſe of honour afterwards, when his Statue was made, and erected in Apollo's Temple, of pure gold, for a Speech that he had made at one of the Pythian Solemnities: and again, when the Athenians, for a reward of divers Speeches which he had uttered there, whether by Decree, or a voluntary concurrence of affections, all ſuch dayes wherein he had ſpoken publickly, they called them holy dayes; and all Speeches by him uttered, they called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, Tapers or Torches: burning Torches being a thing ſacred among them in thoſe dayes, and uſed (though at noon-day) in ſome of their greateſt feſtivalls; which from that uſe, as Harpocration in his Dictionarie, and others teach, were called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. I do not expect it ſhould be believed that all Sophiſts ſince Gorgias, were men of ſuch either merits, or fame, as he was. I have already given him the preeminence, as of time, ſo of reputation. I know not any after him, that came to that height of fame: though I know of ſome, men of great fame too, ſince him, and of the ſame profeſſion as he was, that imputed his fame to his luck, (which wiſe ^[61] Solomon tells us, hath more power in the world, then merit:) more then to his worth. So Aelianus, a man of elaborate eloquence, in that Sophiſticall way, doth ſomewhere judge of him, I am ſure. However, there were Sophiſts ſince that firſt, many, that attained to ſo much reputation by their Eloquence, as to be admired every where for it, and to draw men after them, even great ones, by it; and by their favour, to be admitted into places of great truſt and authoritie. But I ſhall avoid to be longer upon this particular, then I muſt needs: I have given ſome reaſon for it already; and another reaſon is, becauſe one Creſollius, a Jeſuite, hath taken great pains upon that ſubject, in a book entituled, Theatrum veterum Rhetorum, &c. printed at Paris, 1620. wherein he doth proſecute that argument of the Sophiſts, and all things belonging unto them; their beginning, their credit, their wayes, their faults, and the like, out of ancient Greek and Latine Authors, with great diligence. Some of thoſe particulars, that may be moſt conſiderable to our purpoſe, we ſhall further inſiſt upon; but no further then to make uſe of them, either now, or afterwards.

Firſt, for the ſubject of their ſpeeches; it was various and voluntarie. Sometimes the praiſes of Gods, or Men; and ſometimes of Townes, or Countries; yea of Birds, as of a Parrot, or a Peacock. Sometimes, exhortations to Vertue; the commendation of Temperance, Juſtice, Sobrietie, and the like. Sometimes pleaſant tales, or fables: any thing, wherein they might ſhew their wit and eloquence; their end, (I ſpeak of the generality,) being nothing elſe, but to gain credit unto themſelves: as the end of their Auditors, what ever was the ſubject, was delight and pleaſure.

Now for that facultie of theirs of extemporary ſpeaking upon any ſubject, it was their common profeſſion, that is moſt certain: and it was accordingly performed by many of them, with ſingular dexterity, to the great amazement of all their Auditors. There be in ancient Authors many proofs and examples of it. I remember I have read ſomewhere, that Calliſthenes, whom ſome call Sophiſt, ſome, Philoſopher, being invited at a great Feaſt made by Alexander the Great, to ſay ſomewhat in the commendation of the Macedonians; performed it ſo gallantly, that he got great praiſe from all the company. But Alexander, who it ſeems was willing to try him further, and bare him no very good will; and perchance, ſuſpected withall, that he came prepared; excepting, that it was no very hard task for any ordinary Orator to be fluent upon ſuch a ſubject; if therefore he would give certain proofs of his abilities in that kind, his way would be, to diſpraiſe the ſaid Macedonians as fluently: Calliſthenes undertook it, and performed it ſo effectually, (for which his diſcretion was not commended by all men;) that though his abilities were admired, yet his perſon grew hatefull among the Macedonians for it, and the more he was admired, the leſſe thanks he got for his pains. The Tarſenſes of Aſia, among the reſt, as they are by Ancients for their love to learning in generall, ſo, particularly noted to have excelled in this facultie: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that they could extend themſelves without bounds upon a ſuddain, upon any ſubject that was given them: as Strabo, that faithfull Hiſtorian and Geographer, witneſſeth. And that, not in proſe only, but in verſe alſo, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], as the ſame Author ſpeaketh; that is, as men ſpeaking by divine inſtinct, or, inſpired by the God of Poetrie. Strabo, Geograph. lib. 14. In Aulus Gellius alſo (lib. 9. cap. 15.) we have an example of a confident youth, (as indeed it is moſt given to ſuch to be confident:) who not content with the applauſe of his ordinary light Auditorie, would needs make ſhew of his abilities in point of extemporary ſpeaking upon any controverted point that ſhould be propoſed, before ſome that were well able to diſcern between matter and words, ſhadow and ſubſtance: a thing, even in thoſe dayes, rare enough. Whereupon a controverſie (as they called them) being propoſed, he preſently fell to work with great volubilitie of tongue: for which as he was much applauded and admired by his common Auditours; ſo from them that could judge he got this teſtimony, that without controverſie (adoleſcens ſine controverſia diſertus, in my Author:) he was an able and eloquent ſpeaker: that is, one that could ſay much, very readily and fluently; but pertinently, and to the purpoſe, not at all.

But that which moveth me more then all this, to believe that great matters in this kind were performed by many Sophiſts of old, according to their profeſſion, is, that I find even Quintilian, ^[62] a ſober, ſolid man, to make this a chief end and fruit of long pains and exerciſes in the art of Rhetorick; to attain to ſuch a facultie, as to be able upon any ſuddain occaſion to ſpeak pertinently, without any premeditation. Which being ſo rare a thing in our dayes, that a man, if he can utter any thing, which may ſeem to be extempore; though perchance it do but ſeem ſo, and that it be performed but very meanly; is by many, (who therefore upon that account, ſwallow down pure non-ſenſe ſometimes, with better content, then they will hear much better and more profitable matter, that is delivered with ſome ſtudie and premeditation:) by many deemed, I ſay, no leſſe then inſpired: this would make a man ſuſpect, that as a decay of bodies is maintained by many in this elder age of the world; ſo, probably, of wits muſt be granted. But if the matter be well conſider'd of, I think it may be granted that the Ancients farre exceeded us in this facultie; but yet not ſo much through any exceſſe of Wit, as of Induſtrie. Who is it of a thouſand, or a million, that could take the pains, or ſcarce believe the relation of the pains that Demoſthenes took, before he came to that perfection, that made him ſo famous? Or who would believe, were it not ſo certainly atteſted, that Noble-men and Senators of Rome, in the greateſt heat of the Civill warres, could be at leiſure to declame by turnes (for want of reall opportunities in that confuſion of time,) in their Halls, as Boyes do in Schools and Univerſities; for fear that through the diſcontinuance of ſome months or years, they ſhould looſe that facultie, of ſpeaking readily, which long ſtudie (for the moſt of them,) and conſtant practiſe, had made them maſters of? But beſides all this, it may be conſidered, (is very conſiderable, I am ſure;) that theſe eloquent men had no ſtrange tongue to learn; or if any, not above one at moſt: but only, to perfect themſelves in the uſe of their mother-tongue. Whereas now no man can pretend to learning, or very difficultly, that doth not underſtand two or three tongues, beſides that which is naturall unto him: not becauſe learning it ſelf doth conſiſt in the knowledge of tongues more now, then it did in thoſe dayes; but becauſe neither of thoſe tongues, then in common uſe, are naturall now unto any people: the one whereof is now become the common tongue of all Nations, (for this part of the world,) unto ſuch as are Scholars; the other, though not ſo common, yet not leſſe, or more neceſſary, to make a Scholar, as the proper tongue, by reaſon of the Authors that have written in it, of all Arts and Sciences; and without which beſt books cannot be read, if not tranſlated; (as to this day very many are not:) or if tranſlated, few ſo tranſlated, as to afford the tenth part of that either pleaſure, or profit, which they will in their own language. Beſides that ſome are bound by their profeſſion to endeavour the knowledge of ſome tongues; as all Divines, of the Greek and Hebrew, becauſe of the Bible, or Rule of Faith, written in thoſe two languages: for the reading of which in its proper language, there is the ſame reaſon, as for the reading of other books in their own, as to matter of content, or benefit; but much more reaſon in point of conſcience, if a man ſhall think himſelf bound, as ſome may, to make uſe of his own eyes, that God hath given him, the better to ſatisfie himſelf and others, in matters of ſuch truſt and conſequence; then for want of willingneſſe to take pains, to depend altogether on the skill and fidelitie of others.

With this facultie of extemporary ſpeaking, I find ſomewhat in Syneſius, that hath great affinitie, and deſerveth no leſſe admiration. In his Dio, that excellent piece, once before commended, but well deſerving to be commended more then once, he tells us, at the later end of it, of a way that he had, to exerciſe his wit and invention, often by him practiſed. He would take a book; ſome rhetoricall piece, philoſophicall diſcourſe, or the like; read in it a pretty while; then upon a ſuddain ſhut his eyes, or turn them another way, and yet ſtill continue his reading: that is, at the ſame inſtant invent and utter ſomewhat, that might be proper to the ſubject, and ſo coherent to that which he had read, that no bodie (by the ſtyle, or matter) could judge otherwiſe, but that he was ſtill reading. It is likely that he often practiſed it by himſelf, before he adventured to do it before others: but he ſaith he did it often before others; and that his extemporary conceptions were often applauded, and preferred by his Auditors, who knew nothing of it, before that which he had really read. Nay more then that, (which indeed may very properly be referred to ſome kind of enthuſiaſme:) that what he ſo ſupplied by his extemporary wit, did ſometimes prove to be the very ſame that he found afterwards in the book. I know, no man is bound to believe him, upon his own teſtimony concerning himſelf; neither ſhall I eaſily charge any man of infidelity, that profeſſeth he doth not. However, I have that opinion of the man, of his uprightneſſe and ſincerity, beſides his learning, and that apprehenſion, upon ſome grounds, of the poſſibility of the thing; that I ſhall not be affraid to profeſſe my opinion to the contrary, that I do believe him. But here again, not to upbraid any man for his good will, but to warn the Reader, that may be the better for it; I muſt wiſh that Syneſius were generally, but in this his Dio eſpecially, better tranſlated into Latine, (though I could almoſt wiſh, that there had never been any tranſlations made of any ſuch Greek book:) then it is by Petavius the Jeſuite. At the very entrance of this diſcourſe of Syneſius of this his kind of reading, he tranſlates [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], probationes rationis expertes: which is very abſurd. For by it Greek Authors underſtand ſuch external proofs or evidences, whether divine, as Oracles, or civile, as Witneſſes, as admit of no Rhetorick, or reaſoning: by Ariſtotle, Quintilian, and other maſters of that Art, called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Which may be rendred (as by Tully ſomewhere) artis expertes, well enough; becauſe eaſily underſtood, as oppoſed to artificiall: but not [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in this ſenſe, rationis expertes; which is commonly underſtood of brutes, in oppoſition to thoſe creatures which are rationall, or ratione utentes, as Cicero ſpeaketh. However, I like better, even here, Quintilian's expreſſion, inartificiales; not ſo elegant perchance, but more clear. So before, in this very book, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], is not, cujus nulla ratio adferri queat; but a Law ſet out without any ratiocination, to induce men from the reaſonableneſſe or equity of it, to obedience; but by way of bare command, and authoritie, though never ſo juſt, and reaſonable otherwiſe: by Seneca, Plutarch, and other Ancients obſerved to be the proper ſtyle of Laws, and which doth beſt become them. And therefore, where few lines after that firſt paſſage, Syneſius faith, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] ▪ it ſhould not have been tranſlated, ut lex in orationem, but, in rationem mutetur. But here again, when Syneſius ſaith, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: how abſurdly is [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] tranſlated calamitas? Beſides what learned men have noted of the originall uſe of the word, it is ſo obvious in the contrary ſenſe, (I will appeal but to Iſocrates, a very plain Author, in his Oration to Philip:) and the coherence in this place, ſo contrary to that other; as a man would admire how any man could ſo miſtake. And this I ſpeak of the uſe and ſignification of the word, which is obvious and known. But there is ſomewhat more proper & particular, in the uſe of it in this place, as it is applied unto books by Syneſius, which I ſhall not now inſiſt upon. Yet I would not be ſo unkind to Petavius, as he hath been to ſome, that deſerved better reſpect at his hands. His tranſlation of Syneſius, for the moſt part, is elegant and good enough. I wiſh there were none worſe. But I would have no man to truſt to it in obſcure places; ſeeing that in clear and plain he doth often miſtake. But I am out of my generall ſubject and ſcope, to which I muſt return: though I cannot call that a digreſſion properly, to which the proſecution of my firſt ſubject hath ſo naturally led me.

III. We are now to conſider of the cauſe, or cauſes, firſt of the opinion, theſe, whether Orators or Sophiſts, had of themſelves, as inſpired: then, of the effects their Rhetorick did produce upon others. In the firſt point I ſhall not be long, becauſe, I ſhall therein but anticipate the conſideration of the cauſes of Enthuſiaſme in generall, for which we reſerve a particular chapter at the end, where this particular cauſe ſhall come in again among others: though here ſo farre anticipated of purpoſe, (and care ſhall be taken, that we ſhall repeat as little as may be:) to give the more light to the things here to be handled and delivered. Briefly then: A Heat, a fervent Heat, a Fire; which powerfull Orators found in themſelves, not at the uttering, though then greateſt, but upon another conſideration; but in conceiving and compoſing their ſpeeches; ſo generally obſerved and acknowledged, that ſome have thought, that no other art or thing was neceſſary to make a perfect Orator: that Heat, that fervent Heat, that Fire, hath been the ignis fatuus, we ſay, that hath infatuated many Speakers into that opinion of divine Inſpiration. Ardor and Impetus, are the words uſed by Latine Authors to this purpoſe. Nulla me ingenii, ſed magna vis animi inflammat, ut me ipſe non teneam; ſaith Cicero of himſelf. But this indeed he ſpeaks not of all compoſition in generall, but of ſuch as is intended properly to move compaſſion. However, he hath the word ardor elſewhere, upon other occaſions, often enough. Ariſtides calls it [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], a fire: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]; He compares it to that heat, by which Souldiers at the firſt joyning of the battel, are uſually carried, and inflamed, beyond all ſenſe of death and danger: of which in its proper place. And few lines after: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Here we have two words: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], heat; and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], fire. Now according to Hippocrates, to whoſe writings Ariſtotle was much beholding,^[63] not only whatſoever doth rule and govern in man, called Wit, Judgement, Wiſdome, or whatever elſe, is a heat, or fire: ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] &c.) but even God himſelf is [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], heat: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. It is not therefore ſo much to be wondered, that heathens ſhould miſtake herein; as that ſuch a one as Ben Maimon, a man ſo skilfull in the Law of God, and ſo profound a Philoſopher, ſhould not diſtinguiſh between that influentia divina, or that ignis ardens, that burning fire, that inſpired, or inflamed, if you will, holy Prophets, as Jeremie and others; and that partly naturall, and partly ſupernaturall (we ſhall explain our ſelves more fully afterwards, in ſome other chapter:) heat, or fire, common, or incidental at leaſt, unto all men by nature, by which Arts and Sciences have been brought forth to light and perfection; nay all Books in generall▪ ^[64] (for ſo he teacheth,) by all men written and compoſed. Juſt ſo Philo Judaeus, a man of the ſame race, (but much more ancient,^[65]) and worth, in his kind; becauſe ſometimes when he purpoſed to compoſe ſomewhat, though he earneſtly (he ſaith) endeavoured it, and thought himſelf ſuffciently prepared, nothing would come; and at other times he found himſelf ſo full and fluent, that he could not hold himſelf, but was as it were tranſported by the vehemencie of his operative wit and phanſie, ſo that he would even forget himſelf, and the place where he was: he deemed this a ſufficient ground, to think himſelf immediately inſpired by a higher power.

I have met with an obſervation in Ribera the Jeſuite; as conſiderable a man, for what he hath done upon the Scriptures, as moſt of that profeſſion. I do not like his words, though I believe his meaning is right enough. His words are:^[66] Ita et aliarum, rerum, ſive bonarum, ſive malarum, ſpiritus dicuntur; ut ſpiritus zelotypiae, avaritiae, ſuperbiae: qui ſolet Latinorum conſuetudine, ardor animi dici, &c. That the word ſpirit in the Scripture is adſcribed to divers evils, as his effects, (whether by immediate operation, ſuggeſtion, miniſterie, or otherwiſe,) who amongſt other names, is ſtyled ſometimes, the Evil Spirit, I know: but that when any good things are adſcribed to the ſpirit, the ſame is meant, which by Latine Poets (for out of them doth Ribera produce his examples;) is deſigned by this word ardor, or ardor animi, I do not know how it can be made good; is ſomewhat ambiguous, I am ſure. Neither indeed do I mention it as an error in the man; but of his expreſſion only, which by ſome other may be miſtaken for his meaning. But if a man will make an obſervation upon words and language, he might further obſerve, that Heathens did not only uſe the word ardor, to expreſſe their heat in this kind; but even the word Spirit. So Ovid: At ſacri vates, &c. Sedibus aetheriis ſpiritus ille venit. And again; Sic ubi mota calent ſacro mea pectora thyrſo; Altior humano ſpiritus ille malo eſt. And this ſpirit is no leſſe then a very God unto him, elſewhere. Eſt Deus in nobis &c. as afterwards, in its proper place, out of him, or ſome other of greater authoritie then he, ſhall be declared. But we give it place here, becauſe this ardor, heat, or ſpirit, that poſſeſſeth Orators and Poets, yea Souldiers and others, was by divers heathens deemed but one and the ſame, in its nature, though working ſo differently, as hereafter ſhall be ſhewed. Now on the other ſide, that ardor mentis is ſometimes uſed by Chriſtian Writers for ſpiritus ſanctus, is obſervable too: but we keep it for another place. However, I think that expreſſion very improper, and dangerous. And whereas the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or zeal, according to the Scriptures, is oftentimes an effect of the holy Spirit; but often too, according to the ſame Scriptures, of the evil: as for example, 1 Cor. 3.3. 2 Cor. 12.20. and elſewhere, frequently: In all ſuch places, I wiſh the word zeal had been left in the tranſlations, as well as in other places, where uſed in the beſt ſenſe; that every reader might have underſtood that [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], zeal, or fervent heat, in deſires and proſecutions, is of it ſelf no more to true godlineſſe and religion, then a good voice, or an eloquent tongue, or any thing elſe of the ſame kind; which being natural, if it be ſanctified by Grace, or ſome degrees of Grace, and good intentions, may be called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], (as Rom. 10.2. the Apoſtle ſpeaketh;) that is, a zeal of God, or rather, for God, as [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] (John 2.17,) zeal for the houſe: but not abſolutely good and godly, for all that; yea ſometimes very pernicious, (Philip. 3.6. and John 16.2.) untill it be guided by a true light, that is, by ſound and orthodox principles: but if, as very commonly, the inſtrument of carnal ends and affections, and miſguided withall by falſe doctrine, then [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], a devilliſh zeal, as S. James teacheth chapter 3.14, 15. Now for the ſpirit of God, or true godlineſſe, what be the effects and properties of it; no man needs to miſtake, that will, and can read the Scriptures, without either prejudice, or partiality. S. James is plain enough in that very place: but S. Paul more copious and emphatical, upon the ſame ſubject, 1 Cor. 13. and elſewhere. So much here of this ardor, or heat, as the cauſe of Rhetorical Enthuſiaſme. But being a generall cauſe, we ſhall have occaſion to ſpeak of it again, which makes us here ſhorter upon it.

IV. Now for the cauſes of thoſe wonderfull effects of Rhetorick, (our fourth and laſt particular,) ſuch as can be given, that are merely natural; before we enter into that enquiry, we muſt lay down by way of foundation, or neceſſary ſuppoſition, that that which ſo much affected the generality, or greater part of Auditors, when thoſe Orators and Sophiſts ſhewed themſelves publickly, was not the matter it ſelf, that was treated of, or rerum ipſarum pulchritudo, as we had it before out of Seneca: but ſomewhat elſe, whatſoever it was. I ſaid the generality, or greater part, in that ſtate of corruption, as hath been in all places, ever ſince Adam's fall. For otherwiſe, why [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, ſound reaſon, well delivered, ſhould be powerfull with all, or moſt men, no further reaſon need to be given, (as at the beginning of this Chaper was obſerved,) then this, That man is a creature naturally rational. But it is very abſurd, in my judgement, that is, much againſt reaſon, to believe that ſuch a one as Nero, living as he did, and doing what he did; after he had killed his own Mother, in omnes libidines effuſus, ſaith Tacitus of him; (I forbear more particulars, becauſe his name is ſufficiently known:) ſhould reliſh any ſober diſcourſe, as either of Juſtice, Temperance, or Clemency, or the like, for the matter it ſelf: who nevertheleſſe in the heat and height of all his Cruelties, and Villanies, ſapientiae doctoribus tempus impartiebat poſt epulas, as the ſame Tacitus doth record; that is, was wont after meals, to ſpend ſome of his time, to hear the exhortations of Philoſophers. Or that ſuch a one as Dionyſius the Tyrant, as of him by Plutarch in the life of Timoleon, ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c.) is recorded, ſhould do the ſame. Or in caſe it ſhould be ſuppoſed of Nero, and ſuch as he, that he had ſome politick end in it; (which nevertheleſſe of either of theſe two, all circumſtances well weighed, I think more plauſible, then true:) yet, that either the great ones of Rome, rich Citizens, who had the eſtates of Princes, and their Ladies, in the corrupteſt time of that Commonweal, ſhould be ſo ſtudious to get to themſelves ſome domeſtick Philoſopher, one or more, that had fluent tongues, and hear their [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or Diſcourſes, ſo willingly, which were almoſt nothing elſe but of vertue, and the commendations of a ſober life: or that the meaneſt of Rome, poor Shop-keepers, and Tradesmen, that lived by their dayly labour, ſhould leave their Shops and their work, by which they hardly ſubſiſted, and flock together by multitudes to a Sophiſts, or Philoſophers auditory, to hear the praiſes of Hector, or of Hercules, or the commendation of ſome particular vertue, or of ſome brute beaſt perchance, or of Rhetorick it ſelf, or of Philoſophy, or the like: if there were not ſomewhat elſe that did draw them, beſides the matter it ſelf, I think it were much againſt reaſon to believe it. Which nevertheleſſe by the atteſtation of trueſt hiſtories, and other ancient Authors of thoſe times, we know to be ſo certainly true, as no rationall man, that hath been acquainted with them, can make any queſtion of it. Seneca the Philoſopher, he alone would afford us ſtore of paſſages to that purpoſe: but I ſhall content my ſelf with one, becauſe we ſhall meet with divers from other Authors, as we go on, which may give further light and ſatisfaction, if need be. Quid ergo, ſaith he, in one of his epiſtles; (having before inſiſted upon this, that much benefit, in point of life, might accrue unto men, by their daily converſation in the Schools of Philoſophers;) non novimus quoſdam, &c. But what? Do not we know ſome, that for many years together, have been very diligent Auditors, without any the leaſt tincture; or, as it were, ſo much as alteration of colour? Yes, I know there be; not diligent only, but even aſſiduous and indefatigable: whom we may call rather domeſticks, for their aſſiduity, then Auditors. [But then you muſt know, that all come not for one end.] Some come, that they may hear, not learn; as men are drawn unto publick Theatres, to pleaſe their eares, whether with good language, or ſweet voices and melody, or to ſee playes. And of this rank be the greater number, to whom a Philoſophers ſchool is as it were a place of entertainment, for their paſtime, and leaſure houres. It is no part of their thoughts or aime to grow better there, or to learn ſome good rule, or precept of life, to which they may conforme themſelves for the time to come: but only & barely this, to meet with ſomewhat that may pleaſe their eares. Yea and ſome come with Tablebooks too, not ſo much for the matters ſake, as for the words, that they may repeat them unto others, with as little profit, as themſelves did hear them. So far Seneca: & then proceeds to another kind, who are marvellouſly affected (at leaſt, as Seneca would have it,) with the very matter and excellency of the things ſpoken and delivered: and for the preſent, are even raviſhed, and become quite new creatures, as it were, in their purpoſes and intentions; but are no ſooner out of the School, then they are out of their fit, & ſtill come home the ſame men as they went. For which he doth give ſome reaſons; both how they come to be ſo affected, and how ſo ſoon changed. But theſe be not the men that we have here to do with.^[67] Plinius ſecundus, where he ſets out a friend of his, for many excellent parts; In ſumma, ſaith he, non facile quis quemquam ex iſtis, qui ſapientiae ſtudium prae ſe ferunt, &c. that is, In concluſion, even amongſt thoſe that openly profeſſe wiſdome, (that is, chaſtity, piety, juſtice, magnanimity, &c. as himſelf afterwards expreſſes himſelf:) by their habits, take whom you will, you will hardly match him. It is true, that he doth not frequent publick ſchools and cloiſters, (porticus) and there with long diſcourſes (diſputationibus; and ſo is the word often uſed by Latine Authors of beſt note:) entertain himſelf and others that have nothing elſe to do: (or, are diſpoſed to be idle:) No, &c. Theſe two paſſages give light the one to the other: and I make choice of theſe Authors, who, both, were grave ſober men, of great authority, and vertuous in their converſation; that by their teſtimony may the better appear, what uſe ordinary men made of their hearing in thoſe dayes, when hearing was in ſuch high requeſt, amongſt all ſorts of people: and not only what uſe, (which may ſometimes prove contrary to the propoſed end;) but what end they propoſed unto themſelves, which was merely the pleaſure of their eares. Ancient books are full of ſuch complaints & obſervations: I ſhall therefore be the more ſparing.

Two things I have to ſhew: what pleaſure the eare, firſt, and then the eyes, find in words and language. Both, I know, contrary enough to the common profeſſion; it may be, and belief, of moſt men: who not uſed to ſearch into the nature of things, are carried in moſt things, more by appearance and conceit, then by any reality of judgement. Who is it that thinks ſo meanly of himſelf, but if he pleaſed with a ſober moral diſcourſe, be it more or leſſe rhetorical; will not rather adſcribe it to his reaſon and judgement, but eſpecially goodneſſe, then to his ſenſes? But our buſineſſe is not to enquire what moſt men think; but what moſt true and real: and we ſhall go on the more boldly, becauſe beſides manifeſt reaſon, we ſhall not want good authority for what we are to ſay. Two things then there be, which I am now principally to conſider of: Muſick, and Picture: the one, (to ſay ſomewhat of them more generally, before we come to particular obſervation;) the proper object and pleaſure of the Eare, the other, of the Eyes; and ſo, oppoſed to purely rational, and intellectual: yet ſo ſenſual, as that both preſuppoſe reaſon and underſtanding, without which they are not pleaſures. Brute beaſts take no pleaſure in Muſick, except it be ſome great chance, (as in the caſe of Dolphins, and the like,) and upon ſome particular conſideration: much leſſe in Pictures, and curious imagery. And again, as we ſay commonly that the eye ſeeth, & the eare heareth, (of which in the former chapter:) ſo we ſay, that the eye is delighted, and the eare pleaſed; though in very truth, neither eie, nor eare properly know what belongs unto pleaſure, but the ſoul only. The conſideration of this hath bred many doubts, and curious ſpeculations amongſt Philoſophers: and learned Fracaſtorius, (himſelf profeſſeth it,) is much put to it, to find out what it is that makes good muſick and harmony to pleaſe. Nothing eaſier to be underſtood, till a man think of it rationally: nothing that affords more doubts and ſcruples, if you come to treat of it philoſophically.

We ſhall begin with muſick, and ſhew how it is applyable, or incidental unto ſpeech; and that by authority firſt, before we come to reaſon. And though we meddle not here with any thing that is properly called a Scripture buſineſſe; y[••] why may not we make uſe of the Scriptures, from which ſome would have us to fetch all good Arts and Sciences, as well as all ſound Divinity. I am not of their opinion, I confeſſe, nor any ſober man, I hope. yet that many things in all Arts and Sciences, by ſober and well-grounded men in humane literature, may be learned; and ſome deep queſtions of philoſophy reſolved by the Scriptures, though given us for a greater good, and a more ſublime uſe; I my ſelf make no queſtion. I ſhall therefore here ſet down the words of the Prophet Ezekiel, obſervable unto many uſes, but not intending to preſſe their Authority, as Sacred, as to this particular uſe and purpoſe, further then any man ſhall think fit in his own reaſon and judgement. I called them the words of Ezekiel: but indeed, they are the immediate words of God himſelf, by the Prophet Ezekiel: Alſo thou, ſon of man, &c. And they come unto thee, as the people cometh, &c. And ſo thou art unto them as a very lovely ſong, of one that hath a pleaſant voice, and can play well on an inſtrument: for they hear thy words, but they do them not. Ezek. 33.31, 32, and 33 verſes. I queſtion nothing in the tranſlation of the words, but that in the firſt verſe, where it is here, the children of thy people ſtill are talking againſt thee: not only Junius, but other Interpreters of beſt account, tranſlate, of thee, not againſt thee; by way of commendation, not of crimination: vicatim & oſtiatim, &c. that is, at every door and in every ſtreet, every where, commending thee: as Junius there in his Notes. This ſimilitude of the power of Speech, to pleaſe the eare with Muſick, whether vocal or inſtrumental is very frequent in ancient Authors, upon divers occaſions. It is in Plato, Cicero, Seneca, Dio Chryſ. and divers others: and much to the ſame purpoſe, as here in Ezekiel, in ſome of them; as in Muſonius the Greek Philoſopher. whoſe words,^[68] as tranſlated by Aulius Gellius, were; Cum philoſophus hortatur, monet, [••]adet, objurgat, &c. that is, When a Philoſopher doth exhort, admoniſh, adviſe, reprove, or any thing in that kind, tending to reformation or inſtruction; if they that hear him, out of their open and ſuperficial breaſts, bring forth obvious and vulgar praiſes; nay if they break out into loud acclamations; if with his choice language, ſweet cadency and collocation of words, and his warbling voice, [frequentamentis; of which learned Budeus, and others:] they be affected, inflamed, and even tranſported: then may we certainly know, that both ſpeaker and hearer have loſt their labour, and that he was not heard as a Philoſopher; but as a skilful Harper, [or, player on the Lute.] Muſonius goes on in his diſcourſe, how a true hearer, that hath a right aime, ſhould be affected. I wiſh there were no worſe Doctrine ever heard out of our Pulpits: but it is out of our purpoſe here, and therefore I leave him there.

But from theſe bare ſimilitudes, we can inferre no great matter to our preſent aime and buſineſſe; becauſe there may be a likeneſſe of effects, upon which a compariſon may be grounded; though not affinity of nature, or perchance a direct contrariety, (as for example, extreme cold and extreme heat ſometimes produce the ſame effects:) in the cauſes. To proceed therefore to ſome more direct proofs. Amongſt other ſecrets, and myſteries of the art of good ſpeaking, one is, that which is commonly called [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, the placing or collocation of words in a ſentence, or period. There is not any part of Rhetorick more ſubject to ſcorn and contempt, and not without cauſe. For what (apparently) can be more contrary, either to ſolidity of reaſon, or ſharpneſſe of wit, or vigour of ſpirit; then for a man to buſie himſelf about the placing and ordering of words, and ſyllables, when, in a ſerious matter, either to write, or to ſpeak? And in very deed, as the matter is cōmonly handled both by ignorant practitioners, and by unskilfull maſters of that Art, it proveth but a ridiculous buſineſſe: far more likely to bring all Rhetorick out of requeſt, then to gain that credit to that one part, at the hands of any truly ſober and wiſe, to which ſome Ancients of beſt account have endeavoured to raiſe it, to be accounted the choiceſt and moſt uſefull part of all Rhetorick. Not without great cauſe therefore ſome Ancients, that have written of it, with equal both diligence, and dexterity, make this profeſſion about it; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: and that, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that as theſe things muſt needs ſound unto many, as mere myſteries, or incredible paradoxes; ſo, neither are they for the knowledge of many: and that it cannot be expected otherwiſe, but that they that have no experience in ſuch things, ſhould judge otherwiſe of them, then as ridiculous trifles. But however men may judge, before they underſtand, becauſe they will not take pains, as moſt; or becauſe they have taken pains, and cannot underſtand, becauſe non omnia poſſumus omnes, and that, non ex quovis ligno &c. as many: yet certain it is, that not only the moſt famous Artiſts and Orators, that ancient times have produced, as Demoſthenes, Aeſchines, Cicero, Dion. Halicarn. Quintilian, Longinus and the like, have adſcribed unto it as much as unto any other power or faculty, which belongeth unto Rhetorick, and accordingly treated of it (ſome of them) with all exactneſſe and diligence; but alſo divers Philoſophers, as Ariſtotle, Theophraſtus and others, have taken it into their conſideration, and ſaid enough of it, they that ſay leaſt of it, (as Ariſtotle) to make it conſiderable unto all, unto whom his judgement is conſiderable. Cicero in his eldeſt dayes, and in that book of his, which he confeſſeth to contain the pith and marrow of all his former labours in that kind, grounded upon ſo many years continual experience, treateth of it very largely. Longinus, not inferiour to him in point of judgement and reputation, had written two large [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or volumes about it: which though not extant now; yet what reckoning he made of it, if that be not proof of it, that he wrote of it ſo largely, may appear by what he ſaith of it, in that Treatiſe of his, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], yet extant; in few words, as to any direction or inſtruction; but ſo full in point of commendation, as may ſeem rather exuberant, then otherwiſe. He compares it to divers kinds of muſick, as others before, but diſputes it in point of reaſon and nature, that words well ordered, well choſen, and otherwiſe qualified, as they ought in a ſpeech, muſt of neceſſity, and that by reaſon of their good ordering eſpecially, be more powerfull, either to raviſh or to amaze, then any muſick can be. Quintilian ſaith not much leſſe of it. I omit divers others, whom I could name. But of all men, whether Romans or Grecians, now extant, none hath taken more pains, either to ſet out the worth of it, or to ſearch the ſecrets, and to make them plain unto others, then Dionyſius Halicarnaſſeus hath done. There is a good large Treatiſe of his extant, among his other Works, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], in the ſecond Tome, but there in Greek only; ſince that, ſet out both in Greek and Latin, by a learned man, one Simon Bircovius, who alſo hath illuſtrated it with very uſefull Annotations; all printed Samoſci (in Polonia) anno dom. 1604. He gives him, and this his Treatiſe, high commendations in his Preface, and is very angry with the Rhetoricians of later ages, for abuſing the world with ſuch frivolous impertinent trifles, as have paſſed amongſt men for books of Rhetorick; whenas ſuch incomparable pieces (in his judgement, wherein I think he is not altogether out;) have been neglected. This Dionyſius, in that Treatiſe, (as Demetrius Phalereus, and ſome others: but none ſo copiouſly:) doth produce divers choiſe paſſages out of beſt Authors, both Poets, Orators and others: puts the words (ſtill keeping the ſame ſenſe,) in ſeverall formes; endeavouring thereby, as the moſt plain and convincing way to ſhew to the eye, what the power is of this myſtical, or artificiall collocation. I do not expect that all men ſhould be of his judgement, in every particular: but I think they may yield themſelves to have no very judicious eare, in point of Rhetorick and good language, that are not convicted by the generality both of his reaſons and examples, that there is ſuch an art indeed, and ſuch a myſtery, in point of Eloquence and Rhetorick: which is as much as we need here. Neither would I have any to miſtake, as though it were intended by any, that none have ever been eloquent or powerfull in ſpeech, that have not either ſtudied, or underſtood theſe myſteries:^[69] Quintilian may ſufficiently ſatisfie for that. Certainly, whatſoever it be that is ſo called, it is as natural (though not ſo common,) as ſpeech it ſelf: and comes as naturally to ſome without any ſtudy, as other parts of eloquence, which are the common ſubject of all written Rhetorick. Neither is it neceſſary, that men moſt powerfull in language, ſhould underſtand (philoſophically) the nature of language, more then they that feel the effects, ſhould be able to give a true account, what it is that worketh upon them ſo mightily: wherein, I believe, it is as ordinary for men to miſtake, as it is not ordinary for them to enter into ſuch doubts or ſpeculations. Neither will it follow (to prevent another miſtake,) that if right collocation of words be an Art, or a great ſecret of nature, which hath been reduced by ſome to ſome kind of precepts; that therefore there is no right or powerfull collocation, but ſuch as is according to thoſe precepts: ſince it is granted, that naturally ſome Tunes are very ſweet and muſicall unto ſome eares, which are not unto others; and though ſome muſick every where, yet not the ſame, in requeſt amongſt all nations. Wherein beſides the conſideration of the diverſity of particular natures, and of different climates; uſe and education alſo (which in time becomes nature;) is very conſiderable. Nay it ſhall be granted too, that contrary faculties, as in divers other things, ſo in this art or craft alſo, may have ſometimes the ſame operation; not only upon different men, but even the ſame:^[70] as Cicero obſerves in two famous Orators of his time, Catulus and Cotta. In the firſt whereof, Suavitas vocis & lenis appellatio literarum (that is, a ſmooth pronunciation,) bene loquendi famam confecerat, (that is, had gotten him the reputation of an eloquent man.) Cotta, quia valde ſe dilatandis literis à ſimilitudine Graecae locutionis abſtraxerat, ſonabatque contrarium Catulo, ſubagreſte quiddam planeque ſubruſticum, alia quidem quaſi inculta & ſylveſtri via, ad eandem laudem pervenerat; that is, in few words, that this Cotta, quite contrary to Catulus, got himſelf the ſame reputation by a kind of broad, neglected, ruſtick pronunciation. But this doth not belong to the collocation of words, of which we have ſpoken. It doth not, I confeſſe; but to the muſick of words (our chief ſubject and aime at this time,) it doth. For he plainly adſcribeth the eloquence of both (that part of it at leaſt which made it popular,) to their pronunciation; as broad in the one, as it was ſmooth in the other; and yet both equally ſweet. We need not make a miracle of it: we ſhall ſooner ſhew a reaſon for this, how it may very well be naturally; then we can give a reaſon, or underſtand the nature (as already obſerved) of muſick in generall. But I may not ſtand ſo curiouſly upon the examination of all particulars: which as it would not be for the content of all readers; ſo neither am I provided at this time with all neceſſaries for ſuch a task. However, I cannot but take ſome notice of thoſe Philoſophers mentioned by Plurarch, in the firſt of his Problems, and the firſt chapter; who contrary to what we have ſaid, maintained, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that is, That neither the pleaſure of curious ſights, nor of pleaſant ſounds, (or voices,) doth properly belong unto the ſenſes, but unto the mind or underſtanding. I will not meddle with his inſtances, upon which he chiefly grounds; ſome of which, though he doth not name him, he had out of Ariſtotle. As for this particular of eloquent language, enough hath been ſaid already, to prevent that cavil or miſtake, as though it were intended by any, that bare words or bare collocation, without any reſpect to the ſenſe or ſignification, did affect any, be they never ſo ſenſual. For ſo, if generally true I mean, (for I believe that even ſo it is not without ſome truth,) then a man, though he underſtood not a word of Greek or Latin, would equally be affected, if he heard them read, acted or repeated: which for any man to imagine, is too ridiculous. And then again, if it be remembred, that when we ſay the pleaſure of the eyes, or eares, we mean ſuch as through the eyes or eares doth paſſe unto the ſoul: we may grant it the pleaſure of a rational ſoul, properly, which only is capable of it; and yet as properly ſenſual, as it receiveth its firſt birth, and breeding as it were, from thoſe ſenſes.

Though I do not propoſe to my ſelf (as I have already ſaid,) to go further into the ſearch of theſe things, then I muſt needs, to avoid too much exactneſſe, for which all men I know are not fitted: yet for their ſakes that are more curious and capable, I will adde here ſome further directions, as they offer themſelves to me by the way, how they may come to the perfect knowledge of Words and Speech, and ſo may give their reaſon (if they pleaſe) more full ſatisfaction, concerning theſe effects which we ſpeak of, when they underſtand their cauſes. They muſt begin firſt of all with the conſideration of ſingle Letters, and enquire, not from Grammarians only, but from beſt and choiceſt Philoſophers, what is their natural power and property; which letters are naturally ſmooth; which are rough, or ſharp; what Vowels grave and ſtately, what quick and nimble; what effects and operations to the conjunction of ſuch with reference either to the Eare, and the nature of it, or to the inſtruments, the Teeth, Tongue, Noſe, Throat, &c. by which they are formed, and to their motions in forming, are naturall. Ariſtotle hath done ſomewhat in this ſpeculation here and there, in his Rhetoricks: but Plato in his Cratylus, much more; more copiouſly and more profoundly, tracing nature to her very cradle, as it were, then any that I have ſeen. Many have laboured in it; all almoſt that have written of Rhetorick, either ancient or late: but among the Ancients now extant, Dionyſ. Halicarn. with more exactneſſe then any other of that profeſſion. There is no part of Nature more obſcure, where there is ſo little ſuſpicion of obſcurity: no wonder therefore, if they that have laboured in this ſearch, are not alwayes of one judgement. It is enough, that by clear demonſtration of unqueſtionable preſidents and inſtances, (except a man be valde agreſti & hiſpida aure, as Aulus Gellius in a place; or ſomewhat elſe, that is not ordinary, doth alter the caſe:) out of Homer eſpecially, who of all men that have been known unto the world, whether by art, as ſome have thought, or by nature, and by the advantage of a judicious eare, and plentifull wit, as moſt likely, made uſe in his writings of this craft; but by clear demonſtration of unqueſtionable preſidents, whether out of Homer, or any other, moſt certain, that all letters, both Conſonants and Vowels, have ſome natural and diſtinct propriety in ſpeech, if thus and thus uſed, towards ſuch and ſuch effects and operations.

Next unto Letters, if we conſider Words, there is no word that conſiſts of Syllables, but is meaſurable; it hath ſome [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or dimenſion: and there is no [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or dimenſion, but hath ſome natural property, or influence (eſpecially when many together artificially joined,) upon the ſoul of man, towards ſuch and ſuch operations. I may be thought to ſpeak Riddles by ſome: and I know very well, that not only they that never read of ſuch things, may think ſo; but even ſome that have taken great pains and read much, to ſatisfie themſelves, have found this ſpeculation more intricate and curious, then uſefull and neceſſary. This very word Rhythmus in matter of ſpeech, what it is, how it differs from [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]; the one numerus properly, the other (though I made bold to confound them for want of a proper Engliſh word;) dimenſio; what is the nature, and what are the properties of each; though ſo many have written of it, would be nevertheleſſe a long and difficult buſineſſe to make it plain. Without ſome skill in Muſick, if not practicall, yet ſpeculative, I think it is not to be done. But it is enough for my purpoſe, by ſuch hints as theſe to let the Reader know, that as in all Poetry there is ſomewhat of Muſick; ſo in ordinary language too, (though not ſo apparent,) let it be never ſo ordinary; much more in that which is elegant, and (whether by art, or by nature only: for ſo in this ſubject we muſt be allowed to ſpeak:) artificiall.

Then for the Organs of Speech, what analogy they have with divers inſtruments of muſick, there is much to be ſaid, if a man go about it, rationally and philoſophically. Gregory Nyſſen, for ſo much as he hath done, not of ſet purpoſe, but occaſionally only, both in his book De Opificio, and Contra Eunomium, hath done it very well. We have his words at large, in a more proper place and task, but not ended, nor very likely to be. They that have Caſſerius De vocis & auditus organis, may finde ſomewhat there about it, if I be not miſtaken: but whether out of Nyſſen any thing, who well deſerveth a place in that argument, I know not. And whereas I ſaid but now, that the word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], was a hard word to be explained, I meant it of the naturall ſpeculation of the thing ſignified by the word; not of the Grammatical expoſition of it: in which ſenſe nevertheleſſe, it ſeemeth that it hath proved a hard and difficult word to ſome. Nyſſen uſeth it in this rhetorical ſenſe, in his firſt [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] (that is, book; not as ſome tranſlate it, Oration:) contra Eunomium: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. where the Jeſuite that tranſlateth him, becauſe he underſtood it not, hath perverted the whole paſſage, and hath not one word of the Fathers meaning. I believe they that read Greek Authors, will find this word elſewhere too miſinterpreted, and therefore I thought this caution would not be unſeaſonable.

Now for the pleaſure of the Eyes in good language, our next conſideration, though it may ſeem more remote (at firſt hearing,) from probability; yet that we have to ſay will be much plainer, and, as I apprehend it, with no leſſe reality of truth. I will not inſiſt upon Plato's reaſoning in his Cratylus, that words rightly impoſed, are and muſt be [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], that is, artificial and picture-like imitations: nor upon Ariſtotle his comparing of ſpeeches made to a multitude, unto Landſcaps, which ſhew beſt afar off; and being looked upon near, are little regarded. Though both have good reaſon for what they ſay; yet as not before, ſo neither here, do we hold bare ſimilitudes a ſufficient ground for us. Many ſuch we may find in divers Authors, uſed by them, to ſet out the excellent beauty and amiableneſſe of an eloquent piece. But for the reality of the thing, which is our buſineſſe; The firſt thing I ſhall take into conſideration is, the uſe of thoſe Figures of Speech, by which Speech is adorned as much as by any other kind of ornament, which we call Metaphors, and Similitudes, and Allogories. Of their uſe and excellency in point of Eloquence if well uſed, of the right uſe of them, no man need to read any other then Ariſtotle, who as in all other points of humane learning, ſo in this particular, hath behaved himſelf, not as an excellent Orator only, but as a Philoſopher, that is, as one that had the perfect knowledge of Nature; without which knowledge, nothing elſe, though it ſeemeth never ſo remote, can rightly be ūderſtood. Now what it is that maketh ſuch Figures & Ornaments of Speech ſo pleaſant, and ſo taking; I ſhall anſwer in the words of one, who could both judge and ſpeak very well himſelf; but it is the ſenſe of all that have written of that argument: Quod omnis tranſlatio, quae quidem ratione ſūpta eſt, ad ſenſus ipſos admovetur, ^[71] maxime oculorum, qui eſt ſenſus acerrimus: that is, Becauſe every Metaphor, (and ſo of the reſt,) that is proper and natural, expoſeth the things that are ſpoken of to the ſenſes; eſpecially to that of the eyes, which of all ſenſes is the quickest ſenſe. Which makes me wonder that S. Auguſtine in his book De Doctrina Chriſtiana, ſhould make it ſuch a difficult buſineſſe to be reſolved; why the ſame thing delivered in plain and perſpicuous language, ſhould not be ſo pleaſing, as when it is ſet out with Metaphors and Allegories: whereof he gives ſome examples there; difficile eſt dicere, ſaith he, & alia eſt quaeſtio. But I know that S. Auguſtine was ſo good a Naturaliſt, and an Orator too, (which he once profeſſed;) that he could eaſily have found the reaſon of it himſelf, though none had found it before him: but difficile eſt dicere, in reference to his reaſon he might ſay: ſuch ſpeculations of nature are not for every capacity; nor that perchance ſo ſeaſonable a place, (in his judgement) for ſuch a ſpeculation. But this very reaſon that makes them ſo pleaſing in ordinary language, hath brought Metaphors out of credit with Philoſophers that ſeek not the pleaſures of the ſenſes, but the naked truth of things. Ariſtotle, in his Topicks, condemneth them: Plutarch ſaith they are children,^[72] for the moſt part, or ſenſually given, that are ſo taken with ſuch Figures of Rhetorick. I would produce his words, but that there is ſomewhat to be amended in them, ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] for [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], as in all editions I have ſeen; a vaſt difference:) which I have done elſewhere in another work, which may one day ſee light perchance, and therefore will ſpare that labour here. Seneca allowes them to Philoſophers,^[73] not as commendable of themſelves, nor as Poets uſe them, for a ſhew, and to delight; ſed ut imbecillitatis noſtrae adminicula ſint: & ut diſcentem & audientem in rem praeſentem adducant. that is, becauſe of humane infirmity, that by the help of ſuch figures, the teacher may bring his hearers to the knowledge of thoſe things, by a kind of preſent ſight, which otherwiſe they cannot underſtand. S. Chryſoſtome hath the ſame thing, and is very large upon it, upon the ſeventh Pſalm: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Therefore, ſaith he, (ſpeaking of Metaphors and Allegories▪) the Scripture doth uſe ſuch groſſe (or courſe) expreſſions, that it may fit the courſeneſſe (or dulneſſe) of our underſtandings.

But beſides ſuch Figures, as Metaphors, Allegories, and the like, there is a certain propriety of ſpeech, which they commonly call, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] (ſome [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], though there be that make a difference:) or lively repreſentation: others, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]; that is, a phantaſie or a repreſentation of ſhapes and images. It is ſo called ſaith Long[•]nus, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that is, When by a kind of Enthuſiaſme, and ſtrong apprehenſion of the mind, you think you ſee what you ſpeak of, and ſo ſet it out by words to thoſe that hear you, that you make it in a manner viſible. Of this property or faculty, common Rhetoricians treat largely, and bring divers examples out of beſt Authors. Many excellent places out of Homer and Virgil (the two Poets that have been the admiration of all Ages, which have afforded men of judgement,) compared together may be found in Macrobius his Saturnalia, and Julius Caeſ. Scaliger, in the fifth of his Poetices. I have read ſomewhere, that Phidias, an ancient famous Statuary, adſcribed, eſpecially, that ſo much renowned, and almoſt adored piece of his, Jupiter Olympius, to the reading of Homer. How farre the reading of excellent Poets or Orators, may conduce to painting or carving, I know not: it is out of my profeſſion to judge. This I can ſpeak of my ſelf: that when I read any ſuch paſſage, in any of thoſe principal Poets or Orators, I do not only phanſy to my ſelf, that I ſee thoſe things that they deſcribe; but alſo find in my ſelf (as I phanſy) the very ſame content and pleaſure, that I ſhould, if my eyes beheld them in ſome whether coloured, or carved repreſentation of ſome excellent Artiſt. As for example; when I read Laocoon his tragical end and ſtory, ſet out by Virgilius in the ſecond book of his Aeneids, I do not think I read it with much leſs admiration or pleaſure, then they receive, that go a hundred or a thouſand miles perchance, to behold that incomparable Laocoon now at Rome to be ſeen; which was an admiration to the beholders, even when Artiſts were at the higheſt of eſteem and perfection, (as by Pliny, and others that write of it may appear;) ſo many hundred of yeares above a thouſand ſince: how much more now, to all that can judge, ſince that noble Art hath ſuffered ſo notable declination? Not with much leſſe admiration, I ſay: ſaving that (which much derogates from admiration,) I have a Virgil alwaies at command, and can turn to it when I pleaſe; the other I never ſaw, (but in paper picture, and even ſo, not without ſome admiration;) nor can hope ever to ſee for many reaſons. But there is more in Virgil, then in that carved piece: the deſcription of the two Serpents, (which I moſt admire;) their gliding pace and motions (or what ſhould I call it?) upon the Seas, towards the place of execution. Now if any body ſhall think much of this, that a man ſhould be made to ſee without eyes, and ſhould by the benefit of his eares, really compaſſe pleaſures that properly belong unto the eyes; I would have him to remember what he hath read before, if he have read from the beginning, that a man may ſee inwardly, as well as outwardly: without eyes, though not without viſible ſpecies, (whether materiall or ſpirituall, we will not diſpute:) and that thoſe pleaſures we commonly adſcribe to the eyes, or eares, are properly the pleaſures of a rationall ſoul.

There was a way of painting, or rather imagerie, very curious and coſtly, but very frequent among ancient Romans, who ſtood not upon any coſt, either for pomp or pleaſure; which was by inlaying variety of ſmall ſtones, or ſmall chips of ſeverall kinds of wood; of both kinds the beautifulleſt that could be gotten for ſuch a purpoſe; in ſuch order and coherence, that they might repreſent to the life ſeverall ſhapes of Flowers, or Birds, or any other thing that was a fit object for the pleaſure of the eyes. I believe it is uſed to this day in ſome Churches: but then, very ordinary for Sielings and Pavements, in great Houſes. Any man may imagine, what care muſt be taken in ſuch work, to bring it to any perfection, in ſetting and ordering every little ſcrap or parcell in its right place: and how quickly the eye of any Spectator would find it out, if any thing were miſplaced. It was called opus emblematicum, vermiculatum, muſivum, aſarotum, beſides divers other names. Anſwerable for all the world (in point of ordering or placing,) to this artifice, was ſome kind of ſtyle, deviſed by the ancient Sophiſtae, and very exactly obſerved by ſome of them, for which they have been much admired. It is a very pleaſing kind of language, it cannot be denied, to any that have either ears, or eyes, or ſouls ſenſible of any kind of harmony or ſymmetrie; whether in point of Sounds, or of Structures: better (if exquiſite indeed) to be read, then to be heard: becauſe the current of ſpeech doth not give leiſure to either eares, or eyes, to take notice of the art or care, where not a word is, or a ſyllable, but hath, as it were, its naturall order, to compleat the harmonie. Of this kind of ſpeech, or ſtyle, rather in deriſion of it, then in commendation, were thoſe verſes in an ancient Poet, mentioned by Cicero:

Quam lepide lexis, compoſtae, ut teſſerulae omnes,

Arte, pavimento, atque emblemate vermiculato.

Cic. in Oratore.

I know it is the courſe of the world, and it is the occaſion of much wrangling among men. Homine imperito nihil iniquius: Moſt judge of things, not out of any knowledge, or conſideration of the things in themſelves; but by their own temper and diſpoſition, whether altogether naturall, or partly contracted by long uſe and cuſtome: without any regard to other men (who probably may as much differ from them in temper of ſoul, as they do in feature of body,) their different genius and inclination. If therefore any give leſſe credit to theſe things, becauſe they find not a diſpoſition in themſelves to be taken, or affected with ſuch compoſition; nor any other perchance, that is extraordinary: that they may the better know how to value their own judgement, or experience in ſuch ſpeculations, I ſhall firſt propoſe to their conſideration the words of Dion. Halicarnaſſeus, of whom we may very probably ſuppoſe, that he might have as much experience in the world, and as much inſight in the tempers of men, as themſelves. In the very beginning of his Treatiſe [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. or Collocation of words, he layeth down for a ground, or grounds upon it, as a common principle, That all that is conſiderable in good language, is either [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] or [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that is, either Words, or Conceptions. As for Conceptions, he ſaith they require great maturitie of judgement, eſpecially in politick Speeches. but of Words his aſſertion is; that [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that is, That every younger man, or youth his ſoul, by ſome kind of naturall, or enthuſiaſtick inſtinct, is raviſhed with the beauty of well-framed elocution. This may be thought by ſome, a bold ſpeech: and by ſome, perchance, not ſo bold as abſurd. But what will they ſay to Hadrianus the Cardinall, a man, beſides his age, and dignitie, of very profound learning, as appeareth by what he hath written of the fundamentals of Chriſtian Religion? who in his book De ſermone Latino, in a place where he treateth of the proper and elegant uſe of the Latine word alius, is not aſhamed to profeſſe of himſelf, that he valued ſuch Obſervations more then (Ʋniones) choiceſt Pearles and Jewels; and that he had received ſuch contentment in his own ſoul, when ever he met with ſuch in good Authors, as no words of his could expreſſe: and doth not ſtick to adſcribe ſome kind of Divinitie or Deitie to thoſe men, that were able to expreſſe themſelves in that kind. Yet it is farre from me to believe, that ſolid learning doth conſiſt in ſuch things: but much leſſe do I think, that the contempt of thoſe things to which our ſelves have no genius, though highly eſteemed of by others, is an argument of much ſolid learning, as ſome would gladly perſwade themſelves and others; nor yet of much wit, or judgement.

I have done with all thoſe particulars that I propoſed to my Reader, at the beginning of this Chapter: and yet I ſhall not end it here. There is ſomewhat elſe, which I find, by ſome referred to Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme, and doth indeed, in ſome particulars, very properly belong unto it. But we muſt take the liberty (for methods ſake,) to conſider of all that is reducible under one head, though not altogether of one nature, as to matter of Rhetorick. Quintilian (as was before obſerved,^[74]) was of opinion clearly, and his reaſons for it are very conſiderable, that no man ſhould take upon him the profeſſion of an Orator, that is not able to ſpeak as an Orator, upon any emergent occaſion, without any premeditation. But the ſame Quintilian is as much againſt them, that do adventure upon extemporary ſpeaking, as it were by Enthuſiaſme; that is, without a good foundation laid, able to beget ſuch a facultie: which he will not allow to be called ſpeaking, but twatling, or prating, or any thing elſe, that doth not pretend unto Reaſon. Againſt this his opinion, he doth object, that there have been ſome ſometimes, who without any ſuch foundation or premeditation, have been known to ſpeak very well; yea ſo well, that their crude extemporarineſſe hath been thought by men able to judge, to ſurpaſſe the care and premeditation of others. For which, thoſe crude and rude Orators of the old time, when any ſuch thing did happen unto them, were wont to ſay (he quotes Tullie's authoritie for it:) Deum tunc affuiſſe; that is, that God had aſſiſted them. Quintilian doth not deny, but that ſuch a thing may happen ſometimes, that ſome may happen to ſpeak as well, or better, extempore, without any ſuch foundation as we have ſpoken, as others, upon premeditation, &c. and he gives a good reaſon for it, which he fetcheth not from the heavens, (to make a miracle of it,) but from nature: but ſtill keeps to his concluſion, upon this ground, (though he doth not expreſſe himſelf ſo plainly:) that that which happeneth but ſometimes, uncertainly, cannot be called a faculty; nor that man be reputed very rationall or wiſe, that makes profeſſion of that which he hath not at command; and hath ſo little ground to preſume upon, that himſelf makes a miracle of it, when it doth happen, adſcribing it unto God: ſo that nothing leſſe then a miracle can ſave him from ſhame and confuſion, except he have the good luck (which indeed might happen without a miracle: stultorum plena, &c.) to ſpeak unto ſuch, or before ſuch, who are as ignorant, as himſelf is impudent. Of their opinion that adſcribed all Eloquence, in generall, to Enthuſiaſme, I have conſidered before: but this is quite another thing; when not the facultie it ſelf, but ſome extraordinary ſucceſſe, upon ſome diſtreſſe of time, or ſuddain danger, is adſcribed unto God; which makes me to conſider here of it by it ſelf.

Now this will bring me upon a more generall conſideration of this Deus; this un-named God; more commonly ſtyled, Aliquis Deus, or, Neſcio quis Deus, by ancient Heathens: more generall, I mean, then to belong to this particular chapter of Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme; but not ſo generall, as to carry me out of my generall ſubject, which is Enthuſiaſme. I will call it, for diſtinction ſake, a temporary Enthuſiaſme; when a man, whether in matter of ſpeech, or anſwer, or any other occaſion, being put to it, more or leſſe, meets with ſome ſuddain help, or evaſion; or hints of direction, for the time to come, to avoid dangers, or to compaſſe deliverances: whether by inward ſuggeſtions, as it were, or by ſome outward ſignes and encouragements, or the like. In all which caſes we ſhall find this formula of Aliquis Deus or, Neſcio quis Deus, frequently enough uſed by ancient Heathens. Before I come to ſome inſtances, whether ancient or late, I muſt profeſſe, that even among & to heathens, my belief is, that many things, in point of deliverances and otherwiſe, did happen by the immediate hand of God. I have ground enough to ſay ſo, from the 107 Pſalm: as we have ſhewed at large, againſt ſome ſottiſh and phanaticall Expoſitions, upon that very Pſalm. I believe there is no part of the world, where any creatures be, that can be called Gods creatures, from which Gods providence, not generall only, but even particular, upon ſome extraordinary occaſions, is excluded: But nevertheleſſe, as better underſtood, ſo, much more to be ſeen, where God is worſhipped as he ought to be. Farre be it therefore from me to doubt, much more to deny, but that ſome things in that kind among Chriſtians may happen extraordinarily: though I am very confident, that as among Heathens, ſo among Chriſtians, the matter is often miſtaken, through groſſe ignorance or ſuperſtition. But that is not it which we are now upon, how impoſture in that kind may be prevented: how to prevent offence by being miſtaken, was my buſineſſe here, and no other. And ſo we go on.

Firſt then, in matter of ſpeech, ancient Heathens had their warrant from Homer, to whom, for the moſt part, as well Philoſophers as others, adſcribed little leſſe then divine authoritie: who in his 3. Odyſſeie, maketh the Goddeſſe Minerva, Preſident of Wit and Counſell, to appear (though in the ſhape of a man well known unto him,) to Telemachus, and to adviſe him to repair unto Neſtor, ſet out by Homer as a Prince of great renown for his wiſdome and long experience: and upon Telemachus his reply and exception, that being yet ſo young and raw in the world, he ſhould be aſhamed to ſpeak to ſo reverend a perſon; Minerva doth encourage him, with theſe words;

[〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]

[〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]

[〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉].

I am not ſo good a Poet as to render him in verſe: neither do I hope to live to ſee either him or Virgil ſo tranſlated, that a man may truly ſay, tranſlated. It is well, if the ſenſe be fully and faithfully expreſſed. Their other ^[75] perfections, for which moſt admired anciently, imitated they may be perchance by ſome rare Wit, ſo farre as the language will bear; equalled they can never be, in any tranſlation. But the effect of the words is this: That upon ſuch an occaſion, to enquire of his Father, who had been ſo long expected, &c. he ſhould not be affraid to ſpeak. That his own wit perchance, might ſerve him beyond his expectation: and what he wanted himſelf, he might hope that God ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], of which word we have treated elſewhere very copiouſly;) would ſuggeſt unto him: for that it was not likely (by what might already be obſerved of his carriage in thoſe yeares,) that he was either born, or brought up, even to that age, without a particular providence.

Of theſe words of the Poet, ſuperſtitious Ariſtides treateth at large in his Oration againſt Plato. And Cicero, in his Epiſtles ad Atticum, applyeth them very pertinently to his caſe: being then in great perplexitie, how he ſhould carry himſelf towards Julius Caeſar, ſo that he might not wrong his conſcience or credit; himſelf being a grave Senator, who had alwaies ſtood for the common libertie; nor yet offend him by his libertie, who had invaded the Empire by his power, and was now coming towards him, having ſent him word before-hand, that he ſhould ſhortly come that way, and would viſit him at his houſe, making great reckoning of him, (as he profeſſed, and I verily believe he did;) becauſe of his approved integritie; beſides wiſdome, moderation, and other good qualities. Cicero being then in that ſtrait, writeth to his friend:^[76] Ita ſubito occurrit, ut ne Trebatium quidem, &c. omnia nobis imparatis agenda: ſed tamen [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] &c. What event that meeting had, himſelf relates in another Epiſtle to the ſame Atticus, which may be ſeen there; becauſe it is not to our purpoſe here. Juſt ſuch another caſe as this, between Conſcience on the one ſide, and preſent Danger of no leſſe then Life it ſelf, doth Plinius ſecundus relate of himſelf in his Epiſtles. It was upon a queſtion,^[77] that was put to him of purpoſe to catch him. It was a good while before he could tell what to ſay: which is ſome argument, that nothing elſe (though that too, in a more generall conſideration, reducible to providence;) but his own good wit and diſcretion freed him. Yet at laſt he lighted upon ſuch an anſwer, as avoided both thoſe precipices, and confounded his malicious enemies. Plinie according to his Religion, thanks his Gods for it: Non poſſum dicere aliud tunc mihi quam Deos affuiſſe. And I think it were want of Religion in any man, not to thank God in ſuch a caſe: though it be liable to much inconvenience in point of Providence in generall, to make a particular providence of all ſuch caſes, without any regard to perſons, or circumſtances. Plutarch in his Coriolanus, takes it into his conſideration,^[78] and doth endeavour, grounding upon Homer eſpecially, to ſet down ſome rules, whereby, in ſuch caſes, we may diſcern between humane providence, and immediate divine ſuggeſtions. But if according to his rule, we ſhall adſcribe all ungrounded, and ſeemingly raſh attempts and reſolutions, that produce unexpected ſucceſsfull events, to immediate inſpiration: though it may be plauſible enough in the caſe of good men, and good ends; yet generally received and applyed, it will prove ſuch a ſtumbling-block, that it is farre more likely to produce Atheiſme, then any true ſenſe of Godlineſſe. Beſides daily experience of ſuch cunning foxes, as Phormio is ſet out by the Comoedian, who have nothing to truſt to in all the world, but their craftineſſe and their wit, and go further with that, to bring their ambitious ends about, and to get themſelves credit and reputation in the world, then many honeſter men, with the advantage of a farre better Purſe, and greater relations can do: what Age of the World, what People, or Nation, that hath been made known unto the world by any Hiſtorie, doth not afford ſtore of examples of ſucceſsfull Wickedneſſe; not only to the amazement of weaker worldlings, (if I may ſo call them, that have yet ſeen but little of the world, or have not yet profited ſo much by what they have ſeen, as they ought have done;) but even beyond the actors and adventurers their own expectation? Which things, though we acknowledge upon ſuch and ſuch grounds and foundations, neceſſary to be laid by every man that undertakes that ſubject, eaſily to be reconcileable with providence: yet according to Plutarch's rule, muſt of neceſſitie prove deſtructive unto it. Ariſtotle in his Rhetoricks hath an obſervation, that great men that have good luck, amongſt many bad, have one good qualitie, that they are commonly [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. They love God, he ſaith, (after a ſort;) and ſeem to be religious: as ſuppoſing their good luck to be an effect of Providence, and by conſequent, an argument of Gods love and favour towards them. Whether it be ſo or no, that ſuch, ordinarily, love God and Religion, after a ſort; I will not here argue: but of many bad, I ſhould think it the very worſt of their qualities, (if Ariſtotle meant it of ſuch, as became great by unlawfull means; which I think he doth:) that they ſhould love God and Religion upon ſuch an account. For ſo to be religious, is to make God the author of Wickedneſſe, that our ſelves may be thought good: and whilſt we affect to be religious, after a ſort, to undermine (to our power) all true Religion; a main fundamentall whereof is, that God is not pleaſed with any Wickedneſſe, neither doth ſuffer it at any time to prevail, but as a means either of greater Judgement, to them that are paſt Correction; or of advantagious ſuffering, to them, to whom he intends greater Bleſſings. We might be much larger upon this arguments but it ſhall ſuffice to ſay here, that in ſuch a caſe, as either Cicero's or Plinie's, who were men of ſingular naturall parts, and through long experience much improved; though they did very well to be thankfull, and all men ſhould, though upon leſſe occaſions: yet there is no need at all, that we ſhould go further then humane wit and wiſdome, for a reaſon of their wiſe & ſucceſsfull anſwers. Surely, Wiſdome had not been ſo much commended unto us by all ſorts of Authors; nor ſo much paines taken by our Forefathers, for attainment of it; nor men that have been thought wiſe, ſo much admired; had it not been a thing of very good uſe in the world. It is the priviledge of God, that he can infatuate and confound the higheſt wiſdome of man, when he pleaſeth: but if God doth not interpoſe, we need go no further then our firſt creation, if ſtrange things ſometimes be brought to paſſe by the wiſdome of man, (though much impaired, we know, by his Fall,) who was created after the Image of God. And if wicked men bring ſtrange things to paſſe too, in that kind; it may be a queſtion, whether a wicked man may be a wiſe man, properly ſo called: (Ariſtotle ſaith no; and there is good reaſon for it, if it be well underſtood:) but that one that is wicked, if wiſe, ſhould have good ſucceſſe (in point of humane reaſon and judgement,) in the world, is neither to be doubted, nor wondred at: nay, reaſons are given by good Authors, why unconſcionable Craftineſſe, oftentimes, in the proſecution of worldly buſineſſes, hath had great advantages above wiſeſt Integrity.

It would trouble a man more, to find a reaſon for thoſe many Cures, whereof ſo frequent mention is made in ancient Authors, ſuppoſed to have happened by particular Revelations in Dreams of the night. Their manner was, (they that wanted help, and had any confidence in thoſe things,) after ſome preparations, to go to a Temple; there, ſome Rites and Ceremonies performed, to lye and expect ſome Revelation. Pellibus incubuit ſtratis, ſomnoſque petivit, &c. Virgil, and they that have written upon him, will inform them concerning many particulars, that have not taken notice of it elſewhere. Ariſtides the Orator relates ſtrange things of himſelf, which I neither know how to believe, as whom I find every where ſo blindly ſuperſtitious; nor how to diſprove, writing with ſo much confidence, and appealing to the teſtimony of ſo many others, as he doth. Inſomuch, that grounding upon this pretended common Experience; both of Medicine it ſelf, as an Art, (by others accounted of all others the moſt neceſſary;) and of them that profeſſed it, he ſpeaketh in a place as of things, in his judgement, not very needfull in the world. But a Greater man, and a Wiſer man, and which is above all,^[79] a farre better man then Ariſtides, Antoninus the Roman Emperour; ſo wiſe, as not eaſie to be cheated by any others; and ſo good, (I think I have ſaid enough of him elſewhere, to make good all I ſay here:) that I am perſwaded he would as ſoon have parted with his Empire, as to have been the author of any Cheat towards others: he alſo in his divine Meditations, mentioneth thoſe Cures by Dreams and Revelations; not only as approved unto himſelf, by his own, but unto others alſo, by frequent experience. It is not improbable, that conceit might do much in this buſineſſe of Cures. It is granted by Phyſicians, that bare Conceit ſometimes, as it may cauſe Diſeaſes, ſo reall Cures alſo. But to adſcribe all to Conceit, that happened in that kind, I cannot. I will further grant, as very probable, that among ſome ſuch reall Cures, whether by Conceit or otherwiſe, many more, through juggling and deviſed impoſtures, were talked of, then were true and reall. But then ſuppoſing withall, that ſome happened very really; of ſuch as Antoninus, I ſhould make no great queſtion, but the ſame God, who ſent to Naaman the Syrian an Hebrew Maid, to tell of the Prophet in Iſrael, that would cure him, might ſend them Dreams, (in their Houſes, not in their Temples,) that might help them. As for others, that received reall help in the Temples of Idols, and with the ſolemnitie of ſuch and ſuch rites; I am moſt inclinable to believe, that ſuch Cures were done by Evil Spirits, the further to engage men in that Idolatrous kind of Worſhip. And not only in the veneration of Heatheniſh Gods in generall, but in the veneration of thoſe Temples alſo, where they were worſhipped, and of thoſe [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], or ſacred (as ſuppoſed) obdormitions of men and women in Temples: by the means whereof, what horrid pranks were ſometimes brought to paſſe, we have a notable inſtance in Joſephus; and of the execution, juſt and due, upon the actors and contrivers of it.^[80] As for other Dreams, upon other occaſions, whereof the books and relations of Ancients are ſo full, imputed by them to Revelations; I ſee not any thing, in moſt of them, but may very well be adſcribed unto mere Conceit and Superſtition. It is the more to be wondered at, I confeſſe, that not ordinary men only, as divers Poets, and ſome Orators, and Philoſophers, ſhould tell us of ſuch: but that even learned Phyſicians▪ ſhould adſcribe ſo much unto ſuch phanſies. Hippocrates in his Epiſtles (if genuinus Hippocrates, which I can ſcarce believe;) hath a large relation of the God Aeſculapius, how he appeared unto him about Democritus his buſineſſe: Galen often, how that he had a Dream, to write ſuch and ſuch a book; to go, or to forbear ſuch a journey. If men give their minds unto ſuch things, there is no queſtion but they ſhall phanſie ſometimes, nay often, much more then there is juſt ground for; & ſometimes it may be, ſomewhat may happen extraordinarily: but men (I think) were better want it by farre, if it come by Superſtition, and not by immediate Providence; as out of doubt, unto ſome ſometimes, that are not ſuperſtitious.

The ancient Heathens had their ſortes Homericae: and even Chriſtians, anciently, ſome, their Obſervations not much unlike unto them: Obſervations, I ſay, upon the firſt words that ſhould offer themſelves unto them, at the firſt opening of ſome part of the Bible; but of the Pſalms eſpecially. What S. Auguſtine his judgement is of ſuch, what is the determination of ſome Councills, hath been obſerved by them that have written of that ſubject: we ſhall but touch upon it here. It is a common ſtorie that Franciſcus Junius, that tranſlated the Old Teſtament (with Tremellius) out of the Hebrew, and lived to be a great Writer in theſe later times, was not a Chriſtian heartily, untill the firſt words of S. John's Goſpell were offered unto him by a ſtrange providence, as he apprehended. I have read ſomewhat of Ignatius Loyola too, the founder of the Jeſuites, not much unlike. Suſpicius Severus, in the life of Martinus, that holy Biſhop, hath ſome obſervations upon the Pſalms, that were read in courſe when he was conſecrated: He makes a particular providence of it, as I remember. A thouſand ſuch relations a man ſhall meet with in all kind of books, if he think them worth his obſervation. But as in Dreams, ſo in this, I make great difference, between thoſe things that offer themſelves without any ſeeking, and thoſe which upon deſtinated ſeeking and curioſity. In the firſt kind, there is no queſtion, but God, if he pleaſe, may uſe that way ſometimes, as well as any other, to reveal ſome things extraordinarily. But for the other, as it is a mere tempting of God, and little differing (as is diſputed at large by learned Peucerus, in his books De Divinatione:) from direct Witchcraft; ſo if any thing happen in that way, that is extraordinary, and may reſent of ſome kind of revelation or prediction; I ſhould much ſuſpect the author, and be more affraid of the end, as rather tending to draw a man to further miſchief, by degrees; then out of any good will, or for any preſent advantage, to be reaped thereby.

I know one very well, (I mean it in a vulgar, not philoſophicall ſenſe, which would be too much preſumption:) who from his child-hood having alwayes been (though ſtaied and ſober enough in his ordinary converſation,) ſomewhat boiſterous and violent in his play, and ordinary recreation, for which he had ſuffered many times, and ſometimes had been in danger of his life, and yet could not leave it in his elder yeares; at a certain time, when he was playing with a child of his, (which he loved very well,) it was his luck, to run his forehead againſt a plain pillar: but with ſuch vehemencie, that he was almoſt felled with the blow, and was ſtupid for a while. As the place began to ſwell, (the skin being broken in divers places, but without bleeding;) and to grow blue; whilſt his forehead was a binding, ſomewhat having been applied unto it, as ſoon as it could be made readie; he was carried by a ſtrange inſtinct, up many ſtaires, to his Studie, making them that were about him, much againſt their wills, to follow him, and not without ſome wonder. In his Studie (a long room,) at the fartheſt end, out of a caſe of ſhelves, that contained above 5 or 600 ſmall books, he took down one, himſelf not knowing to what end; which happened to be Lactantius: and at the very firſt opening, caſt his eyes upon theſe words, (which he did not remember ever to have read in him before, nor any like in any other Author:) Summa ergo prudentia eſt, pedetentim incedere. ^[81] He read no further: and it made ſo much impreſſion in him, (when he remembred what he had partly eſcaped, and partly ſuffered,) that he could think of little elſe all the day: and he did think (eſpecially when he had heard what had happened unto a very good friend of his,) that he had fared the better afterwards, for that warning; and perchance eſcaped ſomewhat, that might have been his death, not long after.

I make no queſtion but many ſuch things do happen unto many, both good and bad: but either not obſerved, (and better not obſerved, then turned into ſuperſtition:) or ſoon forgotten. Wherein there may be ſome danger of Unthankfulneſſe, I confeſſe, as well as Superſtition in the exceſſe: that is; when either we think too much of ſuch things, before they happen of themſelves; or too well of our ſelves, when they have happened.

CHAP. V. Of Poeticall Enthuſiaſme.

The Contents.

Poeticall and Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme, how near in nature; though the faculties themſelves, (Oratorie and Poetrie,) ſeldome concurring in one man. The perfection both of Poets and Orators to proceed from one cauſe, Enthuſiaſme. The diviſion of Poets, according to Jul. Caeſ. Scaliger. Poets by nature, and by inſpiration. Plato his Dialogue concerning that ſubject. Not only Poets, but their actors alſo, &c. according to Plato's doctrine, divinely inſpired. Plato not to be excuſed in that Dialogue; though more ſound in ſome others. Much leſſe Scaliger, a Chriſtian, for his expreſſions in this ſubject, if not opinions, as ſome have apprehended him. Homer (the occaſion of Plato's Dialogue,) how much admired by the Ancients: by Ariſtotle, particularly. His language: his matter: and why not ſo much admired, and ſo raviſhing in our dayes, as he hath been formerly. Some uſe to be made of him, for confirmation of the antiquitie of the Scriptures of the Old T. No Poets (true Poets) made by Wine; diſputed and maintained againſt Scaliger: though it be granted, that Wine may contribute much towards the making of a good Poem; and why. So, ſome other things, proper to ſtirre up (in ſome tempers) the ſpirits, or the phanſie, to Enthuſiaſme; as Muſick, &c.

OF Poeticall Enthuſiaſme, (the ſubject of this Chapter) there is ſo little to be ſaid particularly, beſides what hath been of Rhetoricall; that I needed not to have made a diſtinct head of it, but that it hath been a common Maxime in moſt Ages, approved by ſundrie pregnant inſtances, That a good Orator and a good Poet, are things, if not altogether incompatible, yet ſeldome or never meeting in one: how then ſhould they be led and agitated by one ſpirit, or enthuſiaſme? Yet certain it is, and it is the opinion of beſt Orators, and Maſters of Rhetorick, Cicero, Dionyſius Halicarnaſſeus, and others, that Oratory and Poetry, though ſo ſeldome concurring in the Profeſſors of each, are very little different in their cauſes and nature. It might prove a long buſineſſe, if I ſhould take upon me to examine all reaſons, and all inſtances, on both ſides, for, or againſt this common Maxime. For the difference of their ſtyle and language, Ariſtotle may ſatisfie any man, in his [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], and Books of Rhetorick: though even in that difference ſo much affinity perchance might be found, as might argue rather different wayes, or effects of the ſame faculty, then different Faculties: but that it is not our task here to examine particulars. However, there is no queſtion, but in divers reſpects, their parts may be as different as their ſtyle: and where the end in general, (the one to pleaſe, the other to perſwade,) is not the ſame; how ſhould particular endeavours, which produce abilities, be? And yet after all this, though we allow ſome difference in their parts and proprieties, ſuch as are more common and ordinary, which may make the difference between ordinary Poets and Orators the greater: my opinion is, that ſcarce ever was (ſo I ſpeak, becauſe ſome accidental circumſtance may alter the caſe in ſome particulars:) that ſcarce ever was any excellent Poet, but might have been (which in Virgil's caſe we know to be moſt true:) as excellent an Orator; or excellent Orator, but might have attained to equall excellency in Poetry; had they applied themſelves to the means in time, and external provocations and encouragements equally concurred for the one, as for the other. But how the ſame Enthuſiaſme (originally and in its nature,) may bothe cauſe of very different effects and faculties; we ſhall have a more proper place to conſider and examine.

Julius Caeſar Scaliger, whoſe authority is ſuch with moſt men, that whatſoever he ſaith, paſſeth for current with them without any further conſideration; in that work of his, where he treats of all things belonging unto Poetrie, and of all Poets, whether ancient or late, that he thought worthy the mention; in the firſt book of it, and ſecond chapter, reduceth all Poets into three ſeveral diviſions, as it were: from their Spirit, their Age (or time when they lived,) and their Argument. For their Spirit; he delivers it at firſt as out of Plato and Ariſtotle, that ſome are born Poets; by Nature, without Art or Study, endowed with all parts and faculties neceſſary to that profeſſion. Others, though born ſimple and ignorant, yea dull and ſtupid; to become Poets by immediate inſpiration. As for matter of inſpiration, it is Plato's doctrine, I confeſſe, in more then one place; but diſputed and maintained at large in a peculiar Dialogue, inſcribed by him, Ion, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. where he doth not onely diſpute, that all true Poetrie is by immediate inſpiration; immediate divine inſpiration, in the moſt proper and literal ſenſe; uſing all the words that the Greek tongue could afford, to expreſſe inſpiration, and repeating them often: but that the [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] alſo, that is, actors or repreſentators of Poets, ſo reciting their words, that they imitated the nature of the things by their pronunciation, and action of body, (an art in thoſe dayes in great requeſt,) yea and the Auditors, all, or moſt, were inſpired in ſome degree. which he doth endeavour to illuſtrate by the example of the Load-ſtone, which infuſeth vertue, firſt upon one ring, and from that upon another, and ſo to many iron rings: though ſtill with ſome abatement; yet ſo nevertheleſſe, that as long as there is any vertue to draw, it muſt be acknowledged to have proceeded from the ſame beginning. So that Plato, nay God himſelf, he ſaith, would not have us to doubt, but that it is ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. and again, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] &c.) God himſelf, (not they,) that ſpeaketh unto us in, and by Poets. But that any are borne Poets, diſtinct from thoſe that are inſpired, I do not find in that Dialogue; nor remember any where elſe in Plato.

As for Ariſtotle, I wiſh Scaliger had quoted the place. I know more then one place, where Aristotle likewiſe upon the by, doth affirm that [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], Poetry comes by inſpiration; or rather, is not without inſpiration: but where he doth ſo poſitively avouch it, as that a man may call it his doctrine, or a reſolved caſe of his upon debate, I know not any place. Indeed I am not at this time (the more is my grief,) maſter of all Ariſtotles Works: and thereby of neceſſity am eaſed of the labour of ſeeking it in him. But even of Plato, though we find it in that one Dialogue ſo poſitively maintained; yet whether we may call it abſolutely Plato's Doctrine, I make ſome queſtion, when I remember (as is obſerved by many) what he writes elſewhere of Poets, and of Homer particularly, whom he would not allow to be read in a well-governed Commonweal, (which I would not have any ignorant Zelot take any advantage of, as though it concerned us Chriſtians as much, or rather, at all: for they had no other Bible, then Homer, in thoſe dayes, ſuch was the common opinion of him; and the reading of him with ſuch an opinion, muſt needs be very dangerous:) becauſe of ſo many falſe, abſurd, yea impious Fictions, concerning the Gods. However, I cannot excuſe Plato for that Dialogue; a moſt irrational piece, I think, as ever was written by any Philoſopher.

But neither can I well brook Scaliger his words, (for I would not queſtion his meaning; God forbid:) which I take notice of, of purpoſe to prevent, that I ſay not to reprove, the miſtake of ſome others. After he hath ſpoken of Plato and Ariſtotle their opinion, he ſeemeth to deliver his own in theſe words: Horum autem [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] duo adhuc genera animadverti: unum cui coelitus advenit divina illa vis; aut ultro, nec opinanti; aut ſimpliciter invocanti. Quo in numero ſeipſum ponit Heſiodus: Homerus autem ponitur ab omnibus. Alterum acuit meri exhalatio, &c. They do him great wrong certainly,^[82] that make this to be his opinion. No man pretending to Chriſtianity, can entertain ſuch ſottiſhneſſe. However, ſo cenſorious a man (witneſs his bitter invectives againſt Eraſmus, for leſſe matters;) ſhould have written more warily. That ſome became Poets by immediate inſpiration, without any thought, or ſeeking; others, upon immediate requeſt and prayer, without any further endeavours: what more can be ſaid of the trueſt, and moſt holy Prophets? But if all this were intended by him (as moſt probable,) in reference to thoſe Philoſophers their opinion: Yet he ſhould have uſed ſome of their termes rather, (whereof Plato afforded him ſo much choice;) then that Scripture word [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: though not proper to the Scripture perchance, yet ſeldome uſed by any profane Author.

As for Homer, (the chiefeſt ſubject of thoſe extravagancies,) there is no commendation can be given unto man, as to point of nature, but I ſhould be more ready to adde to it, then to detract. Neither do I wonder, if Heathens, that had ſo many Gods, when they found themſelves ſo tranſported above their ordinary temper by his verſes, when either judiciouſly read, or skilfully acted; did really perſwade themſelves, that he muſt be ſomewhat above a man, that was the author of ſuch raviſhing language. I have alwaies thought of Ariſtotle, in point of humane wiſdome and ſound reaſon, rather as of a Miracle, then a man: yet when I conſider how much he was beholding to Homer, and how much he doth in all his writings adſcribe to the wit and wiſdome of that one Poet; I muſt needs think very highly of him, that was ſo much admired by ſuch a one as Ariſtotle. And though I do eaſily grant that his language, of the two, is the more raviſhing; as may eaſily appear by ſuch tranſlations as have been made of him in any language, wherein ſo little of that charming power is to be found, that the reading of them is rather a task of patience, then an object of any admiration: yet allowing him to be a Poet, that is, one whoſe chief end (and probably his beſt ſubſiſtence,) was to pleaſe; and a very ancient Poet, that is, one that was to fit himſelf and his expreſſions for ſuch as then lived, when ſuch a religion, ſuch opinions, ſuch faſhions, were in uſe; theſe things taken into conſideration, which I doubt many that read him little think of, his matter, in my judgement, for the moſt part, doth deſerve no leſſe admiration.

Of the myſteries of bare language, that it may raviſh, and what it is that makes it ſo, hath ſufficiently been diſcourſed in the former chapter. And if Rhetorical, how much more (in all ſenſe and reaſon) Poetical? And if good language may raviſh, how much more excellent matter, delivered in raviſhing language? But as every eare is not fitted for all raviſhing language, when barely read, eſpecially, not acted; ſo neither is every capacity, for excellent matter. Though in this particular of Homer's caſe, it is not ſo much want of wit and capacity, that maketh ſo few in theſe dayes to admire his wiſdome; as ignorance of former times. Who would not at a Market, or Fair, if ſuddainly ſuch a ſight ſhould offer it ſelf, look upon either man or woman, though very beautifull otherwiſe, if dreſſed in old apparell, ſuch as was worn but two or three ages agoe; rather as a Monſter, or a ghoſt, then ſuch creatures as they would have appeared, when ſuch apparel was in uſe? An old Hat will alter a mans countenance: and many both men and women, whoſe onely ambition and employment in this world is, ſo to dreſſe themſelves, that they may be thought fair or proper, would think themſelves undone (ſo ridiculous would they appear,) if they were ſeen in thoſe faſhions, which but ten or twenty yeares ago were their chiefeſt both pride and beauty? No wonder therefore if ſo ancient a Poet as Homer, appear ridiculous unto many, who are better skilled in the faſhions of the times, then they are read in ancient books; which by long uſe of reading▪ would make the faſhions of thoſe times to which they are ſtrangers, not only known, but comely; and ſo lead them to ſomewhat elſe, more obſervable then the faſhions of the times. However, this uſe (to a learned and hearty Chriſtian not inconſiderable,) any man may make of Homer and his antiquity, that by reading of him, many paſſages of the Old Teſtament relating to certain faſhions and cuſtomes of thoſe ancient times may the better be underſtood, and the antiquity of thoſe books, among many other arguments, by the antiquity of ſuch whether expreſſions (which we may call, the faſhions of language,) or manners, both publick and private, the better aſſerted. Somewhat hath been done, I know, by ſome learned men, to that purpoſe, by collation of ſome paſſages: but not the tenth part of what may be done, I dare ſay: not by any, at leaſt, that I have yet ſeen. But now I am gone from my Text.

So much for the firſt kind of inſpired Poets, whom Scaliger doth call [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. Though he name Heſiod too, from Heſiods own teſtimony of himſelf; (quo in numero &c.) yet he paſſeth no judgement on him: Homer is his only inſtance; and Homer the occaſion and only ſubject, almoſt, of that Dialogue in Plato, of this argument. I thought it therefore neceſſary that ſomewhat ſhould be ſaid of him: but that he ſhould be thought inſpired, truly and really, or otherwiſe ſupernaturally agitated, then as of Orators was determined; notwithſtanding all that hath been, or might yet be ſaid of his ſo much admired excellency, I ſee no neceſſity at all.

The ſecond kind, according to the ſame Scaliger, are thoſe, quos acuit meri exhalatio, educens animae inſtrumenta, ſpiritus ipſos, à partibus corporis materialibus: that is, whom the vapours of wine, freeing the ſpirits of the body from all material entanglements, and bodily function̄s, to ſerve the ſoul, do quicken and ſtirre up. No wonder indeed, if ſuch be ſtyled [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], by thoſe by whom Bacchus was worſhipped for a God. But where Bacchus is not a God, but a fruit of the Vine, of the earth, and no more; how can they think it reaſonable, to adſcribe divinity unto Poets, for thoſe effects, which not real inſpiration only, as they ſeem to ſay, but even the vapours of wine, as themſelves acknowledge, can produce? But let us conſider of it ſoberly, and philoſophically. It may be, we may find in this, though leſſe danger of Blaſphemy, yet as little reality of truth, as we have found in the former. Can the vapours of Wine make Poets? Truly I think not: I ſee no ground at all for it in nature. I have read what Ariſtotle doth write of Wine, where he compares the ſeveral effects of it with the effects of Melancholy. I think he hath ſaid as much of it, as can be ſaid by any man, with any probability of reaſon. Yet I find not any thing in him, to perſwade me that any Poets are made by Wine. I eaſily believe that the vapours of wine may diſpoſe a man to make ſomewhat, that may be called a verſe, or a rime, or a ſtrong line: but that every one that makes verſes, or rimes, or ſtrong lines, is a Poet, I believe no more, then that an Ape is a man, becauſe of ſome likeneſſe in outward ſhape; or a Parrot, a man, becauſe of ſome words of mans language, which he is taught to utter. To make a Poet, that may deſerve that title, is, as I take it, a work both of Art and Nature; but more of Nature then of Art. A divine wit, naturally, is the firſt ingredient in that rare piece. and though I allow not any real inſpiration to any Poet (as a Poet,) more then to an Orator: yet of all kinds of natural Enthuſiaſme, I allow to Poets that which is the pureſt, and hath moſt of heaven in it. An Orator muſt not alwaies raviſh. If he affect it in every part, it is likely he doth it in no part: he is a Fool, or a Child; not an Orator. But if through exuberance of wit and good language, he happen, without affectation, to raviſh every where; he is not an Orator, but a Poet. We admire Plato, as a Philoſopher: but they that read him with the ſame judgement, as many Ancients did, will finde that it is his Poetry, that he profeſſeth not, that is admired; more then that Philoſophy, that he profeſſeth.

But is Wine nothing then towards the making of a Poet? Not toward the making, as to the faculty it ſelf: but toward the making of a Poem, I think it may conduce not a little. It may lighten the heart, as of ſorrow, ſo of care, the bane of all ſublime thoughts: it may raiſe the ſpirits, when they want to be ſtirred up; and thoſe ſpirits may work upon the faculty, which oftentimes is more at the command of ſuch helps, (by a ſecret ſympathy,) then it is of the will, though never ſo much endeavour be uſed. They are ſeldome good Poets, that can be Poets when they will. But all that are good, are not of one temper of body: & as they vary in temper of body, ſo may theſe accidental external helps be more or leſſe requiſite. I do not think it impoſſible, though it be much againſt the authority of ſome, and practiſe, I believe, of moſt Poets, that one that drinketh water, (the ordinary drink of many nations,) ſhould be a good Poet. But he had need to have good ſtore of good bloud, or a very ſtrong phanſie; which alone is able to raiſe ſpirits, and of all ſpirits, thoſe eſpecially, that have moſt power of the wit; that is, the pureſt, and moſt abſtract from materiality.

That Wine doth not work upon the wit, by any particular property or ſympathy, but only by heating, or raiſing the ſpirits, I am the more apt to believe, becauſe there be other things beſides Wine, that have no leſſe operation upon the wit and invention. (the fountains of all good language,) of which no ſuch ſuſpicion can be, that they can adde or increaſe, but only ſtirre up and quicken. There be ſtrange things written of the effects of Feavers, in that kind: few men, I think, that have been acquainted with feavers, or feaveriſh fits, not very violent, but can ſpeak ſomewhat of their own experience. But this will have a more proper place, where we ſhall conſider of the cauſes of Enthuſiaſme in general; and among other things, of that ardor particularly, as one of the chief: of which ſomewhat already hath been anticipated in the former chapter; which makes me the more willing to forbear any further proſecution of it here. I believe Muſick, ſome kind of it, may have the ſame operation in ſome tempers, upon the wit and phanſie, as Wine hath: not by heating, or infuſing any ſpirits, that can have any ſuch operation of themſelves; but by ſtirring up by a ſecret ſympathy. But of that alſo, more in its proper place.

CHAP. VI. Of Precatory Enthuſiaſme.

The Contents.

The Title of the Chapter juſtified. Precatory Enthuſiaſme, not ſupernatural only, (whether divine, or diabolical,) but natural alſo. Praying uſed not by Chriſtians only, but by Heathens alſo: by Christians ſometimes, miſs-led by a wrong zeal; whether natural, or ſupernatural. Natural Enthuſiaſme, in praying: 1. By a vehement intention of the mind. 2. By powerful language; apt to work upon the Speakers, as well as Hearers. Dithyrambical compoſition affected by Heathens in their prayers. Extemporary praying, no difficult thing. 3. By natural fervency; by the advantage whereof, ſome very wicked in their lives, Hereticks and others, have been noted to have excelled in that faculty. John Baſilides Duke, or King of Moſcovia: his Zeal at his Devotions: his Viſions and Revelations; and incredible Cruelty. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jeſuites; ſtrange things written of his zeal in praying: the ſame, in ſubstance, written of the ancient Brachmannes of India: both, with equal probability. The Meſsaliani, or Prayers, anciently, ſo called: what their hereſie or error was. Their earneſt, intent, continued praying; raptures and Enthuſiaſmes; viſions and revelations: how all theſe might happen naturally, without any ſupernatural cauſe. Haron, a Mahometan Prince, a great Euchite or Prayer, in his kind, not to be parallel'd. ¶ A conſideration concerning faith, whether beſides that which is truly religious and divine, there be not ſome kind of natural faith or confidence, which by a ſecret, but ſettled general providence, in things of the world, is very powerfull and effectuall. A notable ſaying of Heraclitus the Philoſopher: Some Scriptures, and S. Chryſoſtome, to that purpoſe. An objection made, and anſwered. Ardor mentis, in S. Jerome, how to be underſtood. Beſt Chriſtians liable to undiſcreet Zeal. Nicol. Leonicus his Diſcourſe, or Dialogue of the efficacy of Prayers. Antonius Benivenius, De abditis m. cauſis, &c. of what credit amongſt Phyſicians. A ſtrange relation out of him, of one incurably wounded, and almost desperate; who by ardent prayer was not only healed, but did al[•]o propheſie, both concerning himſelf, and divers other things. Some obſervations upon this relation.

THis Title perchance of Precatory Enthuſiaſme, may ſeem unto ſome inconſiſtent with what we have profeſſed more then once, and our general title doth bear; that we meddle not in this Diſcourſe, with any thing that is truly religious. It is poſſible it may ſeem ſo to ſome: but unto ſuch, I doubt, as in matters of truth, are better acquainted with things that ſeem, then with things real. Such may be jealous, without cauſe: and yet may have cauſe enough too, perchance, to be jealous, if they would not have any thing meddled with, that themſelves phanſie to be Religion. Of all duties of Religion, I eaſily grant Prayer to be as the chiefeſt in neceſſitie of performance, ſo the higheſt in point of acceſſe to God. If we may believe S. Baſil, our prayer is not right, or we not right in our prayer, until the intention of our mind ſo farre carry us out of our bodies, that God (after a more then ordinary manner) poſſeſſe our ſouls: and if we cannot ſo much as ſay, Abbae, Father, without the Spirit; how much leſſe can we pour out our Souls or ſpirits unto God in prayer, but by the ſpirit of God? But yet for all this, Chriſt himſelf hath taught us, that Heathens were wont to pray too: not by the ſpirit of God certainly, when they prayed unto Idols; nor yet with a right faith, without any warrant from Scripture; though with a ſtrong confidence, upon their own preſumptions, that they ſhould be heard, becauſe of their long prayers: (Matth. 6.7.)

But we may go farther, though this be enough to juſtifie our title. Not Heathens only, but Chriſtians alſo may erre in their Prayers, unto the true God, (elſe not Chriſtians;) but by a falſe ſpirit, an erroneous Zeal; as Chriſts own diſciples were once about to do: (Luke 9.54, 55.) As therefore there is a true, religious, ſupernatural Enthuſiaſme, that belongeth unto Prayers; and a falſe, diabolical, ſupernatural, (directly oppoſite unto the former;) neither of which we deſire to meddle with, more then of neceſſity, for diſtinction ſake, and where the matter is doubtfull, which in ſo abſtruſe a buſineſſe cannot be avoided: ſo there is a natural, between both, and different from both theſe, the proper ſubject of this Chapter. I know there is no errour in matter of Religion; no falſe Worſhip and Idolatry, I am ſure, without ſome intervention of the Devil. But if our diſtinction which we have in the Chapter of Contemplative Enthuſiaſme, between a general concurrence, and immediate inſpiration or poſſeſſion, be remembred; we ſhall be the better underſtood.

The cauſe of natural Enthuſiaſme in point of Prayer, may be referred either to a vehement and continued intention of the mind, or to the power of the language, or to the natural temper of the perſon.

For the firſt; that vehement intention of the mind, is naturally apt to breed an ecſtatical paſſion, that is, tranſport a man beſides himſelf; to make him believe that he either heareth, or ſeeth things, which no man elſe can either hear or ſee; and upon this illuſion of the imagination, to frame in his underſtanding ſtrange opinions, and ſtrange confidences; both by reaſon, and by Examples, in the chapter of Philoſophical Enthuſiaſme, hath been treated of, and fully diſcuſſed.

Of the power of Language in general, we have treated in the chapter of Rhetorical Enthuſiaſme. And that it hath the ſame power, to raiſe the ſame paſſions and affections upon the ſpeakers, or bare utterers, as it hath upon the Auditors, as there is the ſame reaſon, ſo there be ſo many inſtances and teſtimonies out of ancient Authors, that no queſtion of it can be made. All writers of Rhetorick inſiſt upon it largely, and conclude generally, that he can never be a perfect Orator, whoſe ſpeech hath not the ſame, or greater power upon himſelf, as he would have it to have upon others. Ipſa enim natura orationis ejus quae ſuſcipitur ad aliorum animos permovendos, oratorem ipſum magis etiam, quam quenquam corum qui audiunt, permovet. that is, Such is the nature of ſpeech, that though it be intended and undertaken to move others; yet it worketh upon the ſpeaker himſelf no leſſe, (if not more) then it doth upon any that hear it: as a grand maſter of that Art, in point of ſpeculation, and no leſſe a practitioner, (both concurring to make him a perfect Orator,) delivers it. It was very good counſel that the ſame Cicero gave his brother,^[83] when Governor of Greece, a man naturally paſſionate; that when he was provoked to anger, he would forbear to ſpeak, leſt his words ſhould be a farther incentive. Ancient heathens in their ſolemn prayers affected a dithyrambical compoſition, as we learn by thoſe collections out of Proclus his Chreſtomathia, made by Photius in his Bibliotheca: ſet out alſo by learned Sylburgius, at the end of Apollonius [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: the propriety of that compoſition, as is obſerved by the ſaid Proclus, being to ſtirre up enthuſiaſticall paſſions. Even a man that is not very fluent or rhetorical, in his ordinary diſcourſe, may by long practice attain to a great facility, in point of prayer: which though it be a ſubject of ſo much latitude, as will admit of good variety of Rhetorick; yet is not ſo ample, but that a very ordinary man, with ſome labour, and a good meaſure of confidence, may attain to an extemporary faculty. He that believeth what hath been written in the former chapter, of the extemporary faculty of the ancient Sophiſtae and Orators, (which he that believeth not upon thoſe evidences, may as well queſtion whether ever any ſuch men were truly, as Demoſthenes and Cicero:) will make no great wonder of it.

But that which giveth moſt advantage, as to all Rhetorick in general, ſo to prayer particularly, is, that natural ardor or fervency, wherewith nature hath endowed ſome men above others. I ſaid, endowed. Some may quarrel at the word. my meaning is, where it is poiſed with equal diſcretion, then it is a gift; not otherwiſe. What that ardor is, beſides what hath been already ſaid of it, (whereof ſee in the Chapter of Rhetorical Enthuſiaſme:) ſhall be further enquired in its proper place. It comes often to be mentioned; which we cannot avoid, having ſo near relation unto all kinds (almoſt) of Enthuſiaſme.

The ignorance of this advantage of nature, being unhappily miſtaken for true Chriſtian Zeal, hath been the occaſion of much miſchief in the world, and a great ſtumbling-block to ſimple people, to draw them into the contagion of pernicious Hereſies. Swenckfield, a notorious arch-Heretick in Germany, the father of many Sects; who among other extravagancies, held blaſphemous opinions concerning the Scriptures: Abraham Scultetus, (a man of precious memory among all Proteſtants,) in his Annales Eccleſiaſticae, recordeth of him, that he was wont ardentes ad Deum preces creberrime fundere. But of blaſphemous Hacket, who was executed in Queen Elizabeth her dayes, it is obſerved by many, that he was ſo ardent in his devotions, that he would raviſh all that heard him: whereof ſome alſo he infected with the venome of his opinions, with no other engine, but that very charm of his ardent praying. I have read it in more then one, if I be not miſtaken. I muſt now content my ſelf with a paſſage out of the writings of a learned man, who though dead many years ago, yet was the memory of his exemplary piety very freſh among many, when I lived at Canterbury; Hadrianus Saravia: whoſe words are; Fertur hic Hacketus in concipiendis extempore precibus adeo excelluiſſe, ut Det ſpiritu eum totum ardere, & ab eo ipſius regi linguam, iſti duo crederent: & adeo in ſui rapuit admirationem, ut nihil eum precibus non poſſe crederent à Deo obtinere; proinde quidvis ab eo poſſe perfici. that is: This Hacket is reported to have excelled ſo much in praying ex tempore, that thoſe two (his diſciples) did verily believe him altogether to have been inflamed, (or, wholly poſſeſt) by the ſpirit of God, and that his tongue was governed by Him: and ſuch admirers were they of him, that as they believed there was nothing but he might obtain by his prayers from God; ſo conſequently nothing that he deſired, but he might effect.

But of all things that I have read in that kind, there is not any thing that would more ſcandalize a man not verſed in naturall ſpeculations, then what is written of that horrid Hell-hound, that incarnate Devil,^[84] to whom Nero, Caligula & the fierceſt Tyrants of ancient times compared, may be thought Saints, or mercifull men; (it is not mine, but their expreſſion that have written his life, or of him; and he lived but in Queen Elizabeth her dayes:) John Baſilides, Duke, or King of Moſcovia: of his carriage at his ſolemn devotions; how he prayed, how he faſted, how ſevere towards others, his ſouldiers and Courtiers, that did not, at thoſe times, conform themſelves to his example: I leave it to every man to read,^[85] in thoſe that have written his life. Who would not admire the providence of God, who hath left us ſo many warnings in the Scriptures, (in the Goſpels, and the writings of the Apoſtles of Chriſt, eſpecially;) that we ſhould not be deluded by ſuch outward appearances: and ſo many ſignes and evidences, how true Pietie might be diſcerned from falſe and counterfeit? ſo that no man that can but read and conſider, can have any colour of excuſe for his ignorance, if he be deceived. And whereas the ſame that have written the life of the ſaid Baſilides, tell us of his feigned Viſions and Revelations, by which he deluded the people: that they were feigned and imaginarie, mere deluſions and impoſtures, as to that which they pretended unto, God and Heaven, we are ſure enough, and ſhould think them mad, that ſhould make any queſtion: but whether altogether feigned and imaginarie, as to Baſilides himſelf; that is, whether the Devil, after God for his incredible wickedneſſe had once quite given him over, might not take the advantage of his enthuſiaſtick devotions, to repreſent himſelf unto him in the ſhape of an Angel of light, to incourage him the better in thoſe inhumane courſes, the very relation whereof is ſo full of horror, as is able to amaze the moſt reſolute, and to draw tears from them who delight in bloud and crueltie; ſome queſtion, I think, may be made.

But we have other Euchites, or Prayers, to ſpeak of, that will trouble us more then theſe, in the inquiſition of the cauſe. But before I go from this ardor, the Reader will give me leave to acquaint him with what I have met with concerning Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jeſuites. He had need to have been a very fiery man, that hath been the founder of ſuch Incendiaries, as they have proved (for the moſt part) in moſt Nations. But there be many that practiſe their tenets, yet rail at them: I know not how to call them. But to my ſtorie. I will not bind my Reader to believe it: but he may make very good uſe of it, if he believe it not; and therefore I am the more willing to acquaint him with it. In the life of the ſaid Ignatius Loyola, written by a very eloquent man, (whether as faithfull as eloquent, I know not:) Joannes Petrus Maffeius, we are told, that he was ſeen at his devotions (elevante ſpiritu ſarcinam corporis, quatuor fere cubitis à terra ſublimem: that is in Engliſh; four cubits almoſt above the earth; the weight of his bodily lump being elevated by the ſtrength of the ſpirit. Here we may take notice of the prudence of the Jeſuite, if he had ever read Philostratus, Of the life of Apollonius; whether to be ſtyled the Philoſopher, or Magician, I know not; but one that was worſhipped (in oppoſition to Chriſt) by divers ancient Heathens, for a very God: (we have had him once before already, in the chapter of Rhetoricall Enthuſiaſme:) Or in caſe he had never read him, admire the providence of chance, that two good wits ſhould ſo punctually jump, not in the ſubſtance only of the thing, but in the very name, though not quantitie, of the meaſure, at ſuch a diſtance, not of places only, (as probably,) but of yeares, I am ſure, more then a thouſand by many hundreds. The matter is this: Philoſtratus (accounted by ſome a very fabulous Author, but juſtifiable enough, in compariſon of that libertie ſome have taken ſince him, to forge miracles:) in his third book of Apollonius his life, relating there his peregrination to India, and his encounter with the Brachmannes, (who to this day retain the name, and no little portion of their ancient Philoſophie:) their entertainment of him, their manner of living in their ordinary converſation among themſelves, but particularly, what wonderfull things they did in his ſight; among others, one is, their ſacred Dances at their Devotions. the manner whereof was; They ſtrook the ground with a myſticall rod; upon which, the ground under them did ariſe in waves, by which they were carried up in height above all ground (I ſhould make ſome queſtion whether he meant above the plain ground, or above thoſe mounting ſurges, but that I find in Euſebius, by way of explication; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]:) juſt two cubits. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], both in Philoſtratus and Euſebius: which I know not why the Latine Interpreter, in Aldus his edition would rather expreſſe by duos ferme paſſus, (though paſſus I know, there be minores, and majores;) then as the Interpreter of Euſebius, altitudine bicubita. Now if the Jeſuite had read Apollonius, there was all the reaſon in the world that he ſhould double the meaſure; leſt it ſhould be objected, that Ignatius Loyola, had not he gone above two cubits, did no more, then what by Idolatrous Pagans and Philoſophers had been done ſo long before: which would not have been ſo much to his praiſe. But if he happened upon that meaſure by mere chance, without any regard to thoſe heathen Philoſophers; I will not repeat what I have ſaid of it already: but it may ſeem ſo ſtrange unto ſome, perchance, as to breed a doubt, whether it be not more probable, that both the one and the other, both Philoſtratus and Maffeius, when they wrote theſe pretty things, were not inſpired by one and the ſame ſpirit, then to caſt it upon mere chance.

But now to ſomewhat that may be more ſerious, if not more pleaſant. There be many things written of the Meſſaliani, I know; and I believe nothing written, but may be true of ſome of them. It is ſeldome ſeen otherwiſe, but that they that take the libertie to leave the Common Rule, to follow ſome broacher of new doctrine; will alſo take the libertie to invent ſomewhat of themſelves, beſides what was thought upon by their Leader. But that which was generall unto all that went under that Name, from which alſo they took their names of Meſſaliani, and Euchitae; what that was, S. Auguſtine tells us in theſe words: Meſſaliani,—Enchitae, ab orando ſic appellati, &c.^[86] that is, The Meſſalians, or, Euchites, ſo called from praying; wherein they are ſo aſſiduous, that it ſeemeth incredible unto moſt that hear of it. For whereas our Saviour hath ſaid, that we muſt alwaies pray, and not faint; and his Apoſtle, Pray without ceaſing: (which rightly underſtood imports, that our ſet times of prayer ſhould be neglected upon no day:) theſe men do it ſo over-much, that for their very exceſſe herein, they are reckoned among the Hereticks. Other things are ſaid of them, &c. The ſame is more fully related by Theodoret in his Eccleſiaſticall Hiſtory: where we read how Flavianus Biſhop of Antiochia, deſirous to know the certainty of thoſe things that were ſpoken of them, found a way to inſinuate himſelf into the good opinion of one of the chief for yeares and authority; who informed him to this effect: That all men brought with them into the world an evil ſpirit, by which they were poſſeſt, untill by earneſt prayer (the only means effectuall, and available for ſuch a purpoſe,) the evil being driven away, the good ſpirit of God did take poſſeſſion of their ſouls: who alſo would teſtifie his preſence unto them by certain viſible ſignes and evidences. After which, they needed no more; no Sacraments, no Sermons, no Scripture, to make them perfect. That they could alſo ſee the holy Trinitie viſibly, and foretell things to come.

This is the ſumme of the account given to Flavianus by old Adelphius, a grand veterane profeſſor of that Sect. That the ſame did apply themſelves, as to prayer, ſo to revelations, from whence alſo they got the name of Enthuſiaſts, is the obſervation not of Theodoret only, but of all that write of them. Although I will not take upon me to determine, whether all, or how many, in progreſſe of time, of theſe Enthuſiaſts, became really poſſeſt by the Devil; and in caſe it be ſuppoſed that all, or moſt, in progreſſe of time, were; yet then to determine the moment of time, or particular manner, be as much beyond my abilitie, as it is beſides my task: we may nevertheleſſe ſafely and probably enough conclude, that there is not much in either of thoſe relations, that doth evince more, then may well be referred to Naturall Enthuſiaſme. For firſt of all, I will ſuppoſe, which I think will eaſily be granted, that every young novice, after he had once entred his name into that family, or ſect, was prepared, partly by ſtrange relations of Devils and Angels; and partly by the wild and ſtern countenance of his Inſtructors, and all their ghaſtly crew; and partly by ſome other myſticall wayes, practiſed at this day among the Jeſuites in ſome places; prepared, I ſay, for ſome time, before he betook himſelf to thoſe exerciſes, that were to be the means of his transformation. This very preparation, if we reflect upon naturall cauſes and conſiderations, was enough to crack the brains of them that were not extraordinarilie ſound. But afterwards, when fully perſwaded that the Devil was in them, which muſt be driven out by earneſt, aſſiduous praying; and that the expelling of an evil, would be the bringing in of a bleſſed ſpirit, who would manifeſt himſelf by heavenly ſoul-raviſhing viſions and revelations; what might not this belief, this expectation, this intention of the mind, and obſtinate aſſiduity of endeavours, upon the moſt ſound and ſober? And if once ecſtaticall, that is, out of their right wits, they needed no other enchantment for viſions and revelations: it is very likely, except there were ſomewhat in their naturall temper that hindred, that they would offer themſelves in courſe of nature. I appeal (if any make a queſtion) to thoſe many inſtances, that have been treated of in the chapter of Philoſophicall Enthuſiaſme. But if they came once to foretell things future, as it often happens in ſuch caſes: though I allow of ſome kind of divinatorie naturall Enthuſiaſme, as hath been diſcuſſed in its proper place; yet withall believing with the beſt and moſt experienced Phyſicians and Naturaliſts, that it is very ordinary for the Devil, (according to his nature and miſchievous ends, to draw men from the worſhip of the true God, to the obſervation of ſuch vanities and curioſities; little better in the eyes of God then direct Apoſtacie, or Idolatrie;) to take the advantage of ſuch naturall diſtemper, to produce ſupernaturall effects: upon this ground, I ſhould be more apt to referre ſuch divination to ſupernaturall, then naturall cauſes. As for the wonderfull increaſe and propagation of theſe praying Enthuſiaſts, in thoſe dayes, which occaſioned the deſtruction of many Convents and Monaſteries, in divers places; as we find in ancient Hiſtories: I have a conſideration, or rather a quaere upon it alreadie in the fore-quoted chapter; neither am I provided at this time, to ſay more upon it (which perchance I may, at another time:) then I have done there.

I have done with the Meſſaliani: who, as hath already been ſaid, had their name from their aſſiduous affected praying. But the greateſt Euchite that ever I read of, was one Haron, a Mahometan Prince, a Chaliph of Aegypt; who a hundred times every day (whether of his reign, or pilgrimages, which were many, is doubtfull to ſome by the words; but I think of his reign:) was upon his knees,^[87] (Erpenius, in his tranſlation, ingeniculationibus; that is, according to the proprietie of the Arabick word, and the cuſtome of many in the Orient, when the body is bowed ſo low, that the hands reſt upon the knees:) at his devotions. He was a very valiant Prince, and mightily prevailed againſt Chriſtians. But this by the way only.

There is ſomewhat elſe here to be conſidered of: wherein as I ſhall not peremptorily determine, ſo I ſhall deſire the Reader not to condemn before he have read and well conſidered. That there is a faith of Miracles diſtinct from a true, that is, a ſanctifying, and juſtifying faith: that not unſanctified Chriſtians only, (which of the two ſorts, are the worſt men;) but profeſſed Infidels alſo may do ſome Miracles; as it may eaſily be proved by Scriptures, ſo is acknowledged as well by Papiſts, (who ſtand upon miracles more then we do,) as by Proteſtants. Whether there be not ſome kind of faith, or truſt in God, whereof unſanctified Chriſtians, and many that have not the knowledge of the true God, are capable; which in the courſe of Gods generall providence, according to his will and appointment from the beginning, may ſometimes (with the concurrence of other cauſes, beſt known unto God,) produce great deliverances to the parties, and other ſtrange, and little leſſe then miraculous effects; is that I would now conſider of, or rather propoſe to the conſideration of others. What may be objected out of Scripture, we ſhall ſee by and by. I will firſt ſhew what grounds I have to move this queſtion. Firſt for Scripture; that God doth hear ſometimes the prayers of all men promiſcuouſly, who fervently call upon him in their neceſſitie, we have the whole 107 Pſalm to truſt to, and Calvin's authoritie (which with ſome men will go much further then ſound reaſon;) to oppoſe, if any ſhould ſtudie evaſions from ſuch manifeſt and expreſſe determination. Heraclitus, a Philoſopher of great antiquitie, highly magnified by Hippocrates, was wont to ſay; [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that is, (according to Plutarch's interpretation and application,^[88]) that the greateſt of Gods miraculous works were not known unto men, becauſe of their unbelief.; which Plutarch himſelf elſewhere calleth, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], the evil, or infirmitie of unbelief. Certainly they that ſpake ſo, had in their time obſerved ſomewhat in the courſe of the world, which led them to this obſervation, by way of Maxime, or ſpeculation. We read in the Goſpel, that Chriſt did not (that he could not; Mark 6.5, 6.) many mighty works in his own countrey, becauſe of their unbelief: (Matth. 13.5, 8.) And Acts 14.9. S. Peter before he did a miracle upon the lame man, looked upon him firſt whether he had faith to be healed. The poor Cananitiſh woman her faith is highly commended by Chriſt, & her requeſt therefore granted unto her; who by her profeſſion was yet a mere Pagan, and therefore reſembled unto a dogge by Chriſt himſelf, in oppoſition to them that did worſhip the true God, the God of Iſrael. I mention theſe places; but whether any thing to be concluded out of them to our purpoſe, rather then I will ſtand to diſpute it, if any body be peremptory againſt it, let them go for nothing. Eſpecially, (though I deny the neceſſitie of the conſequence:) if any ſhall attempt from hence to argue againſt the miraculouſneſſe of thoſe cures, or extraordinary ſupernaturall power of the parties, by whom they were done.

S. Chryſoſtome doth ſeem to ground it upon Scriptures but his own experience and authoritie, who was a man for his zeal and pietie (beſides much other worth) not inferior unto any of thoſe whom we call Fathers; may be as conſiderable to us, as that Scripture, which he ſeemeth to ground upon.^[89] In his Commentaries upon the Pſalms, in a place, he earneſtly perſwades all men, as well ſinners▪ great ſinners, as others, to rid themſelves of all care and diſtraction, and to put their truſt in God alone, for ſafety and protection: [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: that is, yea though thou be as great a ſinner, as great can be. ^[90] He quotes the words of Eccleſiaſticus for it. Look at the generations of old▪ and ſee: Did ever any truſt in the Lord, and was confounded? He ſaith not, (they are Chryſoſtom's words;) Did ever any juſt, (or, good:) but any: that is, whether good or bad. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. that is; For this is marvellous indeed, that even ſinners, if they once take hold of this anchor, ([〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉],) no man can hurt them; (or, they become unconquerable.) But S. Chryſoſtome might have added out of the ſame, upon whom he ſeemeth to ground, as Scripture; that it is not a light truſt, or confidence that will do it: Wo be to fearfull hearts, and faint hands, and the ſinner (the craftie Politician, as I take it, that would ſeem to do all by God; and yet doth work more by cunning, then by confidence:) that goeth two wayes: Wo unto him that is faint-hearted; for he believeth not: for he ſhall not be defended. But then it may be objected, that the ſame Author hath other words; as, Order thy way aright: and, Did ever any abide in his fear &c. which ſeem to reſtrain it unto ſuch, who though they have been great ſinners, perchance, formerly; yet for the time to come, propoſe to themſelves to lead a new life. This may be objected: and ſomewhat as eaſily, perchance, (as to the drift of that Author) anſwered. But I have ſaid as much as I mean, becauſe whatſoever his meaning be, I cannot ground much upon it. If other known and certain Scriptures be objected; as particularly, John ch. 9.21, 22, 23. Now we know that God heareth not ſinners, &c. it is anſwered by ſome, That that is no Scripture; but a ſimple report, or teſtimony of the common opinion: by others, That the words are not intended as an abſolute maxime, or propoſition extending unto all generally; but unto ſuch only as take upon them (without a right commiſſion,) the office of Prophets, and would do Miracles, for a confirmation of their vocation: that in ſuch a caſe, God will not hear, &c. I will not warrant either of theſe anſwers to be ſatisfactory: I need not: I will make uſe of neither, but take the words as Scripture, as knowing, that there be other Scriptures enough to make that ſenſe very Canonicall. But is there any Scripture almoſt, ſo abſolutely intended, but is liable to ſome limitations? God will hear them that are godly, even when he doth not hear them. If he do not ſometimes grant unto them what they earneſtly pray for, it is for their greater good, that he doth not. He is not a Chriſtian, not ſo ſound a Chriſtian, I am ſure, as he ſhould be, that doth not believe this as verily, as he doth believe that there is a God. If God doth hear ſuch ſinners ſometimes; (as ſuch a faith, I believe, though merely naturall, is a very rare thing; eſpecially, if the concurrence of ſome other cauſe, as we ſaid before, be requiſite:) though he grant them what they deſire, as the avoiding of ſome preſent great evil, or the atchieving of ſome great exploit, or the like: yet it may be doubted, whether alwayes for their good; who perchance are thereby the more confirmed in their wickedneſſe, which will bring them in the end, to eternall miſery. Sonne, thou art ever with me, &c. Luke 15.31, 32. though it be not altogether the ſame caſe; yet are the words ſo appliable to this, as able, in my judgement, if well thought upon, to take away all ſcruples and riſings of thoughts in that kind.

But what (if any man object) is this to Precatory Enthuſiaſme? Yes: For I conceive that where-ever this natural confidence is found, there is that natural ardor; which is a principall thing in the cauſes of natural Enthuſiaſme, as already more then once hath been obſerved. S. Jerome upon thoſe words of the Goſpel, The ſpirit indeed is willing but the fleſh is weak; (but upon which of the Goſpels, that hath the words, I cannot tell, except I had the book:) hath theſe words: Hoc adverſus temerarios, &c. that is, This is to be noted against ſome raſh men, (or, Chriſtians▪) who perſwade themſelves that whatever they believe, they ſhall obtain. But let us conſider, that as we have confidence from the fervency of our ſpirits: ſo have we as much occaſion to fear, becauſe of the weakneſſe of our fleſh. Whether he intended this ardor mentis, of a natural, or ſupernatural zeal, for want of other circumſtances, is not eaſie to judge. For as among them that profeſſe Chriſtianity, and ſeem to be zealous, as zealous as can be, there be many that are nothing leſſe then Chriſtians: So amongſt them that are true, ſanctified, orthodox Chriſtians, ſome may be found, that have more zeal then they have diſcretion, to diſcern between time and time, perſons and perſons, and other circumſtances, by which they that intend to do good, ought, as by the word of God they are directed, to guide their zeal. But it is more likely that he intends it of true zeal: for not long after he uſeth the ſame words of S. Peter; (eodem mentis ardore, quo caetera:) whoſe zeal though it were not alwaies ſeaſonable, and therefore ſharply reproved by Chriſt in a place; yet alwayes true and ſincere. God forbid that we ſhould make any queſtion.

I had rather be ſilent, then not to ſpeak well. But becauſe my ſilence may be miſconſtrued, where ſo much opportunity doth invite, as well as my judgement: I will rather expoſe my ſelf to cenſure, then to diſappoint my reader of his expectation. There is one that calls himſelf Nicolaus Leonicus Thomaeus, an Italian of no ſmall credit in his dayes, (and I wiſh no man had done worſe upon Ariſtotle, then he hath done:) who hath ſet out ſome philoſophical Diſcourſes, or Dialogues, as he calls them; the title of one of which is, Sadoletus, five De Precibus. The ſubject of the Dialogue is, what it is that maketh Prayers available. I have read it more then once: I am ſorry I can make nothing of it, whether I conſider him as a Chriſtian, (eſpecially having intereſſed two Cardinals and one Biſhop in the buſineſſe; the one by his Dedication, the two other, as Interlocutors;) or as a mere Philoſoper, his chiefeſt undertaking. The Reader may quickly ſatisfie himſelf: It is no long diſcourſe. And when he hath done, if he judge otherwiſe, let him condemne my dulneſſe, not my malignity: I ſhall think my ſelf much beholding to him for it.

I ſhall conclude this Chapter with a relation. I have read ſome things, and heard of many, that I have thought ſtrange, in that kind; but never met with any thing of that nature, that I took more notice of. My Author is one that I have named already more then once, as I take it: Antonius Benivenius: whom I find often quoted by learned Phyſicians, without any exception: which makes me to give him the more credit, though I find my ſelf often poſed with his relations. However, the very circumſtances of this relation, if judiciouſly conſidered, are ſuch, as can admit of no ſuſpicion. But the Reader may believe as much, or as little, as he pleaſeth. It may be ſome eaſe to him, (Quanto expeditius eſt dicere, Mendacium, & fabula eſt? as Seneca ſomewhere: juſt as he that confuted Bellarmine with three words, in the Pulpit:) if he be reſolved to believe nothing, that he cannot underſtand: it ſhall not trouble me, who undertake not for the truth of it. I truſt him, whom many before me (men of good judgement,) have truſted: more then which, no ingenuous Reader will require of me. And as I undertake not for the truth, ſo I will paſſe no further judgement upon the cauſe. The caſe out of his Latine, in my Engliſh, is this:

^[91]A certain Florentine, whoſe name was Gaſpar, having received a wound in the Breaſt; (or about the Heart;) whileſt he endeavors to pull out the dart, pulls out the arrow, but leaves the point behinde. When the Chirurgions had done all that could be done by art and skill, to get it out, and all in vain, becauſe it ſtuck ſo faſt in one of the inmoſt Ribbs, that it was impoſſible to draw it without a larger wound, and ſome danger of breaking the ſaid Ribb: (or, without taking away part of the Ribb with it:) he reſolved to undergo any death, though never ſo painfull, rather then to ſubmit to ſuch a cure. But at laſt being grown deſperate, he attempted to hang himſelf, or to caſt himſelf into the next River (Arnus,) or into ſome deep Well; and had done it, had not his friends that were about him, watched him with great care and diligence. Among them there was one, Marioctus by name; a man of approved piety and integrity; who beſought him with great importunity, that giving over deſperation, he would endeavour to commit ſo incurable an evil into the hands of God, the author of all ſalvation. Gaſpar being at laſt perſwaded by him, betakes himſelf to God; and ceaſed not, both night and day, to pray; till at laſt he was taken with a ſpirit of divination: (or, fell into fits of divination:) ſo that he would tell who were coming to him to viſit him, even when they were yet farre off. Beſides that, he would name all men, though never ſeen before, by their right names; and exhort all that came to him, to fear God, and to be confident of his help in time of need. That himſelf was now not only aſſured of his recovery, and of the day and hour, particularly; but by the ſame light (that aſſured him,) he alſo foreſaw many other things that ſhould happen: as, that he was to go to Rome, and dy there: the baniſhment of Petrus Medicis, and his flight: the diſtreſſes & Calamities of Florence: the ruine of Italy; and divers other things, which for brevity we omit: the fulfilling whereof (for the moſt part) we have already ſeen. As for the point, it came out of the wound of its own accord, the very day & hour that he had foretold: and when it was come out, he ceaſed to propheſy; and after a while, being gone to Rome, he died there.

I ſaid I would paſſe no judgement upon the cauſe: neither ſhall I. However, did not I believe, that it had ſome relation to the contents of this Chapter, the Reader may be ſure it ſhould not be here. But though here, yet not any thing from thence to be concluded of the cauſe, if he remember what hath been ſaid of ſome caſes: ſome mixed caſes: of others, ſo uncertain and obſcure, as not (by me at leaſt,) at all determinable. My Author makes it a Miracle: Miraculo liberatus, is his argument, prefixed before the Chapter. I oppoſe it not: and I like it the better; Firſt, becauſe in ſuch an extremity, that ſeemed as much above the patience, as help of man, there was no other way, that either piety or diſcretion could ſuggeſt, but to be importunate with God. And ſecondly, becauſe addreſſe was made unto God immediately. This may reliſh of Lutheraniſme, with them that have more zeal for Saints, then they have for God: or at the beſt, think they ſerve God beſt, when they pray to them, who but lately (as to God, and Eternity,) were their fellow-ſervants. But Nicolaus Remigius, I hope, Privy Counſeller to the Duke of Lorrein, (as a Duke, ſo a Cardinal too:) and a great Judge in capital cauſes, within his Dominions; was no Lutheran. Let any man read the firſt, and the fourth Chapter of his third book of Daemonolatry: and let him judge, whether there be not cauſe to ſuſpect ſuch addreſſes, as are made unto Saints in ſuch caſes. But this is more then I intended: I leave the reſt to the Reader; and ſo conclude this Chapter.

FINIS.

Marginal notes

1. See the particulars, at the end of the 3. Chapter, Of contemplative, or philoſoph. Enthuſ. pa. 119, &c. ↩
2. See Quintus Curtius and others. ↩
3. Plut. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] &c. alibique. ↩
4. Hence it is that ancient authors, as Ariſtotle, Strabo, and ſome others, affirme that Poetrie, in matter of writing and compoſition, was in uſe long before proſe: which might ſeem ſtrange, if not incredible, if we judge by the diſpoſitions of later times; but of thoſe times and tempers, not leſs probable, then certain. ↩
5. Primi ergo inter Graecos ſuperſtitionū magiſtri illi, Theologi ab his dicti, Poetaeque, qui Deorum genealogias decantaverūt, myſteriaque & numinum cultum tradiderunt, ſapientiae nomine celebrantur, cum hi in nulla ſapientiae parte operam poſuiſſe ſint dicendi: fucatè vero perſonateque illam quae politica dicitur, coluiſſe videantur, &c. Petrus Valentia in De judicio erga verum ex ipſis primis fontibus: Antuerpiae, 1596. ↩
6. Plut. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. ↩
7. Plutarch. de placit. phil. l. 5. c. ↩
8. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. ↩
9. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. ↩
10. Xenoph. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. lib. 1. ↩
11. Lev. Lemn. de occul. nat. mir. l. 2. c. 2. ↩
12. Lucian. Philopſ. Ald. ed. p. 318. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. An id potius vult Lucianus, pro daemoniaci cujuſque loco patriave, ita daemonem vel Graece, vel alia quavis linguâ, quae propria fit illius loci, reſpendere? ↩
13. Jo. Leo Afric. Deſcr. Afr. lib. 6. p. 246. ↩
14. Aug. Confeſs. lib. 10. c. 8. &c. ↩
15. Exercit. contra Card. 307.28. ↩
16. Bod. Theat. Nat. p. 529, &c. ↩
17. Bud. Annot. in Pand. ed. Lug. 1562. p. 698. ↩
18. Plin. Nat. Hiſt. lib. 7. c. 52. ↩
19. Cicero 1. De Divin. ↩
20. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. The word Angel, for a good Spirit, is uſed by divers heathens. ↩
21. Cic. 1 Tuſcul. ↩
22. Thuanus, Hiſt. ſui temp. tom. 5. lib. 123. ↩
23. See more below, in the Firſt queſtion: in S. Auguſtin's words, concerning Reſtitutus. ↩
24. Eraſ. Ad. Chil. 4. Cent. 5. ↩
25. Cic. 5. Tuſcul. Quaeſt. ↩
26. See Abrah. Ecchel. in Habdarrhamāum, De proprietat. &c. Not. p. 155.160. ↩
27. Baron. tom. 12. a. d. 1163. § 21. ↩
28. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. ↩
29. See below 3. queſtion, at the beginning. ↩
30. Tertul. de Anima, c. 9. ↩
31. Baronius a. d. 173.31.70. & 201.7. &c. ↩
32. Joſ. Acoſta, de temporibus noviſ. lib. 2. c. 11. Rom. ed. 1590. p. 54. &c. ↩
33. Fyenus, de virib. imagin. ↩
34. Tertul. adverſ. haer. cap. 4. ↩
35. Jul. Caeſ. Claudini, Conſultat. medic. Reſp. 21. ↩
36. Auguſt. De Civ. Dei: l. 14. c. 24. ↩
37. Bodin. Theat. Nat. p. 503. ↩
38. The words I know may have another meaning, as commonly interpreted▪ but this too may be right enough, and is warrantable by other places in Hippocrates. ↩
39. Palmar. de morbis contag. p. 311. ↩
40. Since this written, I have ſeen one Sandaeus, of the ſame argument: but have not yet found in him any thing much material, that is not in Herſentius: though I do not find that be maketh any mention of him any where. ↩
41. See Chap. 6. ↩
42. Some may make a difference between ignoratio and ignorantia. But I know not how to do it in Engliſh: except I may be allowed to ſay unknowingneſs: or the like. ↩
43. The life of ſister Catharine of Jeſus, &c. at Paris: 1628. See the Epiſtle to the Reader. ↩
44. Wigelius, Stifelius, Jac. Behmius; and divers others of that countrie, mere Fanaticks; as unto any ſober man may appear by their Writings: ſome of which have been tranſlated into Engliſh. But of them and their phrenfies, ſee more, if you deſire it, in Chriſt. Becmanus (not to mention others,) his Exerercitationes Theologicae. ↩
45. See more below, in the 4. Particular: where, of Greg. Nyſſen, Caſſerius, &c. ↩
46. Rodolp. Agric. lib. 3. De Inventione. ↩
47. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. A[•]iſt. Rhet. lib. 3. c. 1. ↩
48. Longinus [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. ed. in quarto, Bafil. p. 7. Oxon. in octavo, cum Notis viri Cl. Guil. L. p. 11. ↩
49. The Engliſh of theſe paſſages is not material; becauſe tending only to ſhew the uſe of the word. See alſo at the end of 4. Particular: of [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] &c. ↩
50. Philoſtr. in vita Apol. lib. 4. edit. Ald. quatern. d. 4. initio pag. ↩
51. Senec. de tranquil. cap. ult. ↩
52. It is ſo in best edit. not, aſcend. leſt any ſhould think it a mistake. ↩
53. Sen. 2. de Clem. c. 2. ↩
54. Ariſt. 3. Ethic. c. 8. Polit. lib. 9. c. 4. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉], &c. ↩
55. Thucyd. Hiſt. lib. 3. ↩
56. Sen. Epiſt. 108. ↩
57. Dion. Halicarn. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]. ↩
58. Quintil. lib. 10. c. 1. ↩
59. Cic. in Oratore. ↩
60. Plut. in vita Cic. ↩
61. Eccleſiaſt. ch. 9. v. 11. but time and chance: by which words what is to be underſtood, hath been ſhewed elſewhere. ↩
62. Quintilian. See more below, towards the end of this Chapter. ↩
63. Hippocr. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: or as others more probably, [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉]: initio libri. ↩
64. More Nev. lib. 2. c. 37. ↩
65. Phil. Jud. De migrat. Abrah. ↩
66. Ribera in Com. in Hoſ. cap. 5. ↩
67. Epiſt. lib. 1. epist. 22. ↩
68. A. Gellius Noct. Attic. l. 5. c. 1. ↩
69. Quintil. lib. 9. c. 4. ↩
70. Cicero, in Bruto. ↩
71. Cic. 3. De Orat▪ ↩
72. Plutarch. [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] &c. ↩
73. Seneca, Epiſt. 59. ↩
74. Quintil. Inſtitut. lib. 10. c. 7. ↩
75. See more in the Chapter of Poeticall Enthuſiaſme. ↩
76. Cic. Epist. ad Att. lib. 9. ↩
77. Plin. Epiſt. lib. 1. ↩
78. Plut. in vita Coriol. ↩
79. M. Aurel. Anton. Meditat. lib. 1.5. & 9. ↩
80. Joſeph. lib. 18. ↩
81. Lact. De Opif. D. c. 1. ed. Criſp. in 16. p. 672. ↩
82. Joan. Fabricii Specimen A[•]ab. pag. 174. Statuis idem Scal. &c. ↩
83. Cicer. 2. De Orat. ↩
84. Nam quae de Nerone, Caligula, Domitiano, & reliquis peſtibus humani generis ſcripta leguntur, ludum jocumque dixeris, prae inſana hujus rabie. Paulus Oderbornius in vita: quatern. L. 2. Witebergae: an. Dom. 1585. ↩
85. Ibid. quatern. X 5. & N 6. b. In arce Alexandrovia, &c. & V 2. b. Sed tyrannum fera rabie, &c. ↩
86. Auguſt. de Hareſ. cap. 57. ↩
87. Hiſt. Arab. ab Erpenio publicata. ↩
88. Plut. in Coriolano. The words are quoted by ſome other; as by Clem. Alex. for one: but, neither written (as I remember,) nor interpreted by him, as by Plut. ↩
89. Chryſoſt. in Pſal. 10. ↩
90. Eccleſ. 2.10. ↩
91. Anton. Benivenius, de abd. n. ac mir. morb. ac ſan. cauſis: ed. Baſ. an. D. 1529. c. 10. p. 215. &c. ↩