Chapter III (6)

The Culture of the Mind divided into the Knowledge of Characteristic Differences of Affections, of Remedies and Cures. Appendix relating to the Harmony between the Pleasures of the Mind and the Body

WE NEXT proceed to the cultivation of the mind, without which the preceding part of morality is no more than an image or beautiful statue, without life or motion. Aristotle expressly acknowledges as much—“It is, therefore, necessary,” says he, “to speak of virtue, what it is, and whence it proceeds; for it were in a manner useless to know virtue, and yet be ignorant of the ways to acquire her.” Concerning virtue, therefore, we must ascertain both what kind it is and by what means it may be acquired; for we desire a knowledge of the thing itself and the manner of procuring its pleasures. And though he has more than once repeated the same thing, yet himself does not pursue it. And so Cicero gives it as a high commendation to the younger Cato, that he embraced philosophy, not for the sake of disputing, as most do, but of living philosophically. And though at present few have any great regard to the cultivation and discipline of the mind and a regular course of life, as Seneca phrases it—“De partibus vitæ quisque deliberat, de summa nemo”—whence this part may appear superfluous, yet we cannot be persuaded to leave it untouched, but rather conclude with the aphorism of Hippocrates, that those who labor under a violent disease, yet seem insensible of their pain, are disordered in their mind. And men in this case want not only a method of cure, but a particular remedy, to bring them to their senses. If any one shall object, that the cure of the mind is the office of divinity, we allow it; yet nothing excludes moral philosophy from the train of theology, whereto it is as a prudent and faithful handmaid, attending and administering to all its wants. But though, as the Psalmist observes, “the eyes of the maid are perpetually waiting on the hands of the mistress,” yet doubtless many things must be left to the care and judgment of the servant. So ethics ought to be entirely subservient to theology, and obedient to the precepts thereof, though it may still contain many wholesome and useful instructions within its own limits. And therefore, when we consider the excellence of this part of morality, we cannot but greatly wonder it is not hitherto reduced to a body of doctrine, which we are obliged to note as deficient; and shall therefore give some sketch for supplying it.

And first, as in all cases of practice, we must here distinguish the things in our power, and those that are not: for the one may be altered, while the other can only be applied. Thus the farmer has no command over the nature of the soil, or the seasons of the year; nor the physician over the constitution of the patient, or the variety of accidents. In the cultivation of the mind, and the cure of its diseases, there are three things to be considered; viz., 1, the different dispositions; 2, the affections; and 3, the remedies: answering in physic to the constitution, the distemper, and the medicines. And of these three, only the last is in our power. Yet we ought as carefully to inquire into the things that are not in our power, as into those that are; because a clear and exact knowledge thereof is to be made the foundation of the doctrine of remedies, in order to their more commodious and successful application. For clothes cannot be made to fit, unless measure of the body be first taken.

The first article, therefore, of the culture of the mind, will regard the different natures or dispositions of men. But here we speak not of the vulgar propensities to virtues and vices, or perturbations and passions, but of such as are more internal and radical. And I cannot sometimes but wonder that this particular should be so generally neglected by the writers both of morality and politics; whereas it might afford great light to both these sciences. In astrological traditions, the natures and dispositions of men are tolerably distinguished according to the influences of the planets; whence some are said to be by nature formed for contemplation, others for politics, others for war, etc. So, likewise, among the poets of all kinds, we everywhere find characters of natures, though commonly drawn with excess, and exceeding the limits of nature. And this subject of the different characters of dispositions is one of those things wherein the common discourse of men is wiser than books—a thing which seldom happens. But much the best matter of all for such a treatise may be derived from the more prudent historians; and not so well from elogies or panegyrics, which are usually written soon after the death of an illustrious person, but much rather from a whole body of history, as often as such a person appears: for such an interwoven account gives a better description than panegyric. And such examples we have in Livy, of Africanus and Cato; in Tacitus, of Tiberius, Claudius, and Nero; in Herodian, of Septimius Severus; in Philip de Comines, of Louis the Eleventh; in Guicciardini, of Ferdinand of Spain, the Emperor Maximilian, Pope Leo, and Pope Clement. For these writers having the image of the person to be described constantly before them, scarce ever mention any of their acts, but at the same time introduce something of their natures. So, likewise, some relations which we have seen of the conclaves at Rome give very exact characters of the cardinals: as the letters of ambassadors do of the counsellors of princes. Let, therefore, an accurate and full treatise be wrote upon this fertile and copious subject. But we do not mean, that these characters should be received in ethics as perfect civil images, but rather as outlines, and first drafts of the images themselves, which, being variously compounded and mixed one among another, afford all kinds of portraits. So that an artificial and accurate dissection may be made of men’s minds and natures, and the secret disposition of each particular man laid open, that, from a knowledge of the whole, the precepts concerning the cures of the mind may be more rightly formed.

And not only the characters of dispositions impressed by nature should be received into this treatise, but those also which are otherwise imposed upon the mind by the sex, age, country, state of health, make of body, etc. And again, those which proceed from fortune, as in princes, nobles, common people, the rich, the poor, magistrates, the ignorant, the happy, the miserable, etc. Thus we see Plautus makes it a kind of miracle to find an old man beneficent.

“Benignitas quidem hujus oppidò ut adolescentuli est.”

And St. Paul, commanding a severity of discipline toward the Cretans, accuses the temper of that nation from the poet: “The Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, and slow bellies.” Sallust notes it of the temper of kings, that it is frequent with them to desire contradictories—“Plerumque regiæ voluntates, ut vehementes sunt; sic mobiles, sæpeque ipsæ sibi adversæ.” Tacitus observes, that “honors and dignities commonly change the temper of mankind for the worse.” “Solus Vespasianus mutatus in melius.” Pindar remarks that “a sudden flush of good fortune generally enervates and slackens the mind.”

“Sunt qui magnam felicitatem concoquere non possunt.”

The Psalmist intimates, that it is easier to hold a mean in the height, than in the increase of fortune—“If riches fly to thee, set not thy heart upon them.” It is true, Aristotle, in his Rhetorics, cursorily mentions some such observations; and so do others up and down in their writings: but they were never yet incorporated into moral philosophy, whereto they principally belong, as much as treatises of the difference of the soil and glebe belong to agriculture, or discourses of the different complexions or habits of the body to medicine. The thing must, therefore, be now procured, unless we would imitate the rashness of empirics, who employ the same remedies in all diseases and constitutions.

Next to this doctrine of characters follows the doctrine of affections and perturbations, which, we observed above, are the diseases of the mind. For as the ancient politicians said of democracies, that “the people were like the sea, and the orators like the wind”; so it may be truly said, that the nature of the mind would be unruffled and uniform, if the affections, like the winds, did not disturb it. And here, again, we cannot but remember that Aristotle, who wrote so many books of ethics, should never treat of the affections, which are a principal branch thereof; and yet has given them a place in his Rhetorics, where they come to be but secondarily considered: for his discourses of pleasure and pain by no means answer the ends of such a treatise, no more than a discourse of light and splendor would give the doctrine of particular colors: for pleasure and pain are to particular affections, as light is to colors. The Stoics, so far as may be conjectured from what we have left of them, cultivated this subject better, yet they rather dwelt upon subtile definitions than gave any full and copious treatise upon it. We also find a few short elegant pieces upon some of the affections; as upon anger, false modesty, and two or three more; but to say the truth, the poets and historians are the principal teachers of this science; for they commonly paint to the life in what particular manner the affections are to be raised and inflamed, and how to be soothed and laid; how they are to be checked and restrained from breaking into action; how they discover themselves, though suppressed and smothered; what operations they have; what turns they take; how they mutually intermix; and how they oppose each other, etc. Among which, the latter is of extensive use in moral and civil affairs; I mean, how far one passion may regulate another, and how they employ each other’s assistance to conquer some one, after the manner of hunters and fowlers, who take beast with beast, and bird with bird; which man, perhaps, without such assistance, could not so easily do. And upon this foundation rests that excellent and universal use of rewards and punishments in civil life. For these are the supports of states, and suppress all the other noxious affections by those two predominant ones, fear and hope. And, as in civil government, one faction frequently bridles and governs another; the case is the same in the internal government of the mind.

We come now to those things which are within our own power, and work upon the mind, and affect and govern the will and the appetite; whence they have great efficacy in altering the manners. And here philosophers should diligently inquire into the powers and energy of custom, exercise, habit, education, example, imitation, emulation, company, friendship, praise, reproof, exhortation, reputation, laws, books, studies, etc.; for these are the things which reign in men’s morals. By these agents the mind is formed and subdued; and of these ingredients remedies are prepared, which, so far as human means can reach, conduce to the preservation and recovery of the health of the mind.

To give an instance or two in custom and habit, the opinion of Aristotle seems narrow and careless, which asserts that “custom has no power over those actions which are natural”; using this example, that if a stone be a thousand times thrown up into the air, yet it will acquire no tendency to a spontaneous ascent. And again, that “by often seeing or hearing, we see and hear never the better.” For though this may hold in some things, where nature is absolute, yet it is otherwise in things where nature admits intension and remission in a certain latitude. He might have seen, that a strait glove, by being often drawn upon the hand, will become easy; that a stick, by use and continuance, will acquire and retain a bend contrary to its natural one; that the voice, by exercise, becomes stronger and more sonorous; that heat and cold grow more tolerable by custom, etc. And these last two examples come nearer to the point than those he has produced. Be this as it will, the more certain he had found it that virtues and vices depended upon habit, the more he should have endeavored to prescribe rules how such habits were to be acquired or left off; since numerous precepts may be formed for the prudent directing of exercises, as well those of the mind as the body. We will here mention a few of them.

And the first shall be, that from the beginning we beware of imposing both more difficult, and more superficial tasks than the thing requires. For if too great a burden be laid upon a middling genius, it blunts the cheerful spirit of hope; and if upon a confident one, it raises an opinion, from which he promises himself more than he can perform, which leads to indolence; and in both cases the experiment will not answer expectation. And this always dejects and confounds the mind. But if the tasks are too light, a great loss is sustained in the amount of the progress.

Secondly, to procure a habit in the exercise of any faculty, let two seasons be principally observed: the one when the mind is best, and the other when it is worst disposed for business; that by the former, the greater despatch may be made; and by the latter, the obstructions of the mind may be borne down with a strenuous application; whence the intermediate times slide away the more easily and agreeably.

The third example shall be the precept which Aristotle transiently mentions; viz., to endeavor our utmost against that whereto we are strongly impelled by nature; thus, as it were, rowing against the stream, or bending a crooked stick the contrary way, in order to bring it straight.

A fourth precept may be founded on this sure principle; that the mind is easier, and more agreeably drawn on to those things which are not principally intended by the operator, but conquered or obtained without premeditated design, because our nature is such, as in a manner hates to be commanded. There are many other useful precepts for the regulating of custom; and if custom be prudently and skilfully introduced, it really becomes a second nature; but if unskilfully and casually treated, it will be but the ape of nature, and imitate nothing to the life, or awkwardly, and with deformity.

So with regard to books, studies, and influence over our manners, there are numerous useful rules and directions. One of the fathers, in great severity, called poetry the devil’s wine; as indeed it begets many temptations, desires, and vain opinions. And it is a very prudent saying of Aristotle, deserving to be well considered, that “young men are improper hearers of moral philosophy,” because the heat of their passions is not yet allayed and tempered by time and experience. And to say the truth, the reason why the excellent writings and moral discourses of the ancients have so little effect upon our lives and manners, seems to be, that they are not usually read by men of ripe age and judgment, but wholly left to inexperienced youths and children. And are not young men much less fit for politics than for ethics, before they are well seasoned with religion, and the doctrines of morality and civility? For being, perhaps, depraved and corrupted in their judgment, they are apt to think that moral differences are not real and solid; but that all things are to be measured by utility and success. Thus the poet said, “Successful villany is called virtue”—“Prosperum et felix scelus, virtus vocatur.” And again, “Ille crucem pretium sceleris tulit, hic diadema.” The poets, indeed, speak in this manner satirically, and through indignation; but some books of politics suppose the same positively, and in earnest. For Machiavel is pleased to say, “if Cæsar had been conquered, he would have become more odious than Catiline:” as if there was no difference, except in point of fortune, between a fury made up of lust and blood, and a noble spirit, of all natural men the most to be admired, but for his ambition. And hence we see how necessary it is for men to be fully instructed in moral doctrines and religious duties, before they proceed to politics. For those bred up from their youth in the courts of princes, and the midst of civil affairs, can scarce ever obtain a sincere and internal probity of manners. Again, caution also is to be used even in moral instructions, or at least in some of them, lest men should thence become stubborn, arrogant, and unsociable. So Cicero says of Cato: “The divine and excellent qualities we see in him are his own; but the things he sometimes fails in are all derived, not from nature, but his instructors.” There are many other axioms and directions concerning the things which studies and books beget in the minds of men; for it is true that studies enter our manners, and so do conversation, reputation, the laws, etc.

But there is another cure of the mind, which seems still more accurate and elaborate than the rest; depending upon this foundation, that the minds of all men are, at certain times, in a more perfect, and at others in a more depraved state. The design of this cure is, therefore, to improve the good times, and expunge the bad. There are two practical methods of fixing the good times; viz., 1, determined resolutions; and 2, observances or exercises; which are not of so much significance in themselves, as because they continually keep the mind in its duty. There are also two ways of expunging the bad times; viz., by some kind of redemption, or expiation of what is past, and a new regulation of life for the future. But this part belongs to religion, whereto moral philosophy is, as we said before, the genuine handmaid.

We will therefore conclude these georgics of the mind with that remedy which of all others is the shortest, noblest, and most effectual for forming the mind to virtue, and placing it near a state of perfection; viz., that we choose and propose to ourselves just and virtuous ends of our lives and actions, yet such as we have in some degree the faculty of obtaining. For if the ends of our actions are good and virtuous, and the resolutions of our mind for obtaining them fixed and constant, the mind will directly mold and form itself at once to all kinds of virtue. And this is certainly an operation resembling the works of nature, while the others above mentioned seem only manual. Thus the statuary finishes only that part of the figure upon which his hand is employed, without meddling with the others at that time, which are still but unfashioned marble; whereas nature, on the contrary, when she works upon a flower or an animal, forms the rudiments of all the parts at once. So when virtues are acquired by habit, while we endeavor at temperance, we make but little advances toward fortitude or the other virtues; but when we are once entirely devoted to just and honorable ends, whatever the virtue be which those ends recommend and direct, we shall find ourselves ready disposed, and possessed of some propensity to obtain and express it. And this may be that state of mind which Aristotle excellently describes, not as virtuous, but divine. His words are these: “We may contrast humanity with that virtue which is above it, as being heroic and divine.” And a little further on: “For as savage creatures are incapable of vice or virtue, so is the Deity.” For the divine state is above virtue, which is only the absence of vice. So Pliny proposes the virtue of Trajan, not as an imitation, but as an example of the divine virtue, when he says, “Men need make no other prayers to the gods than that they would be but as good and propitious to morals as Trajan was.” But this savors of the profane arrogance of the heathens, who grasped at shadows larger than the life. The Christian religion comes to the point, by impressing charity upon the minds of men; which is most appositely called the bond of perfection, because it ties up and fastens all the virtues together. And it was elegantly said by Menander of sensual love, which is a bad imitation of the divine, that it was a better tutor for human life than a left-handed Sophist; intimating that the grace of carriage is better formed by love than by an awkward preceptor, whom he calls left-handed, as he cannot by all his operose rules and precepts, form a man so dexterously and expeditiously, to value himself justly, and behave gracefully, as love can do. So, without doubt, if the mind be possessed with the fervor of true charity, he will rise to a higher degree of perfection than by all the doctrine of ethics, which is but a Sophist compared to charity. And as Xenophon well observed, while the other passions, though they raise the mind, yet distort and discompose it by their ecstasies and excesses; while love alone, at the same time composes and dilates it; so all other human endowments which we admire, while they exalt and enlarge our nature, are yet liable to extravagance: but of charity alone there is no excess. The angels aspiring to be like God in power, transgressed and fell: “I will ascend, and be like the Most High”; and man aspiring to be like God in knowledge, transgressed and fell: “Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil”: but in aspiring to be like God in goodness or charity, neither man nor angel can or shall transgress. Nay, we are invited to an imitation of it: “Love your enemies; do good to those that hate you; pray for those that despitefully use and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father, which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise upon the good and upon the evil, and sends his rain upon the just and upon the unjust.” And thus we conclude this part of moral doctrine, relating to the georgics of the mind.

So in the archetype of the Divine nature—the heathen religion—the words “Optimus maximus,” and the Scripture pronounces the mercy of God to be above all his works.

We have now concluded that portion of morals which appertains to the georgics of the mind; and should any one imagine, in reading the different parts of this science which we have already handled, that all our labor consists in uniting into one digest of the sciences all that has been neglected by other writers, and that such a work is at best only supplying what is clear and evident, and easily arrived at by reflection, let him freely enjoy his judgment; but at the same time we beg him to keep in mind our first assertion, that we sought in these researches, not the flourish and ornament of things, but their use and verity. He may also recall the ancient parable of the Two Gates of Sleep:

A gate of ivory is indeed very stately, but true dreams pass through the gate of horn.

There might, however, be added, by way of appendix, this observation, that there is a certain relation and congruity found between the good of the mind and the good of the body. For as the good of the body consists in—1. Health; 2. Comeliness; 3. Strength; and, 4. Pleasure—so the good of the mind, considered in a moral light, tends to render it—1. Sound and calm; 2. Graceful; 3. Strong and agile for all the offices of life; and, 4. Possessed of a constant quick sense of pleasure and noble satisfaction. But as the four former excellences are seldom found together in the body, so are the four latter seldom found together in the mind. For it is evident that many are full of wit and courage, without being either calm or elegant in their deportment, or beautiful in their person; others again possess an elegant and fine deportment, and yet eschew honesty and justice; others again have pure minds, but without any qualifications for the business of life; others who perchance unite all these three qualities, possess a sullen humor of stoical sadness and stupidity—they practice a virtue, but refuse to enjoy its pleasures; and if perchance of these qualities two or three are sometimes found together, it seldom if ever happens that all four can be met with in the same person. And thus we have finished that principal branch of human philosophy, which considers man out of society, and as consisting of a body and a soul.