Lodovicus Vertomannus relates in his travels, they keep their markets in the night, to avoid extremity of heat; and in Ormus, like cattle in a pasture, people of all sorts lie up to the chin in water all day long. At Braga in Portugal; Burgos in Castile; Messina in Sicily, all over Spain and Italy, their streets are most part narrow, to avoid the sunbeams. The Turks wear great turbans _ad fugandos solis radios_, to refract the sunbeams; and much inconvenience that hot air of Bantam in Java yields to our men, that sojourn there for traffic; where it is so hot, [1519]"that they that are sick of the pox, lie commonly bleaching in the sun, to dry up their sores."

Such a complaint I read of those isles of Cape Verde, fourteen degrees from the Equator, they do _male audire_: [1520]One calls them the unhealthiest clime of the world, for fluxes, fevers, frenzies, calentures, which commonly seize on seafaring men that touch at them, and all by reason of a hot distemperature of the air. The hardiest men are offended with this heat, and stiffest clowns cannot resist it, as Constantine affirms, _Agricult. l. 2. c. 45._ They that are naturally born in such air, may not [1521]endure it, as Niger records of some part of Mesopotamia, now called Diarbecha: _Quibusdam in locis saevienti aestui adeo subjecta est, ut pleraque animalia fervore solis et coeli extinguantur_, 'tis so hot there in some places, that men of the country and cattle are killed with it; and [1522]Adricomius of Arabia Felix, by reason of myrrh, frankincense, and hot spices there growing, the air is so obnoxious to their brains, that the very inhabitants at some times cannot abide it, much less weaklings and strangers. [1523]Amatus Lusita.n.u.s, _cent. 1. curat. 45_, reports of a young maid, that was one Vincent a currier's daughter, some thirteen years of age, that would wash her hair in the heat of the day (in July) and so let it dry in the sun, [1524]"to make it yellow, but by that means tarrying too long in the heat, she inflamed her head, and made herself mad."

Cold air in the other extreme is almost as bad as hot, and so doth Montaltus esteem of it, _c. 11_, if it be dry withal. In those northern countries, the people are therefore generally dull, heavy, and many witches, which (as I have before quoted) Saxo Grammaticus, Olaus, Baptista Porta ascribe to melancholy. But these cold climes are more subject to natural melancholy (not this artificial) which is cold and dry: for which cause [1525]Mercurius Britannicus belike puts melancholy men to inhabit just under the Pole. The worst of the three is a [1526]thick, cloudy, misty, foggy air, or such as come from fens, moorish grounds, lakes, muck-hills, draughts, sinks, where any carca.s.ses, or carrion lies, or from whence any stinking fulsome smell comes: Galen, Avicenna, Mercurialis, new and old physicians, hold that such air is unwholesome, and engenders melancholy, plagues, and what not? [1527]Alexandretta, an haven-town in the Mediterranean Sea, Saint John de Ulloa, an haven in Nova-Hispania, are much condemned for a bad air, so are Durazzo in Albania, Lithuania, Ditmarsh, Pomptinae Paludes in Italy, the territories about Pisa, Ferrara, &c. Romney Marsh with us; the Hundreds in Ess.e.x, the fens in Lincolnshire. Cardan, _de rerum varietate, l. 17, c. 96_, finds fault with the sight of those rich, and most populous cities in the Low Countries, as Bruges, Ghent, Amsterdam, Leiden, Utrecht, &c. the air is bad; and so at Stockholm in Sweden; Regium in Italy, Salisbury with us, Hull and Lynn: they may be commodious for navigation, this new kind of fortification, and many other good necessary uses; but are they so wholesome? Old Rome hath descended from the hills to the valley, 'tis the site of most of our new cities, and held best to build in plains, to take the opportunity of rivers. Leander Albertus pleads hard for the air and site of Venice, though the black moorish lands appear at every low water: the sea, fire, and smoke (as he thinks) qualify the air; and [1528]some suppose, that a thick foggy air helps the memory, as in them of Pisa in Italy; and our Camden, out of Plato, commends the site of Cambridge, because it is so near the fens. But let the site of such places be as it may, how can they be excused that have a delicious seat, a pleasant air, and all that nature can afford, and yet through their own nastiness, and s.l.u.ttishness, immund and sordid manner of life, suffer their air to putrefy, and themselves to be chocked up? Many cities in Turkey do _male audire_ in this kind: Constantinople itself, where commonly carrion lies in the street. Some find the same fault in Spain, even in Madrid, the king's seat, a most excellent air, a pleasant site; but the inhabitants are slovens, and the streets uncleanly kept.

A troublesome tempestuous air is as bad as impure, rough and foul weather, impetuous winds, cloudy dark days, as it is commonly with us, _Coelum visu foedum_, [1529]Polydore calls it a filthy sky, _et in quo facile generantur nubes_; as Tully's brother Quintus wrote to him in Rome, being then quaestor in Britain. "In a thick and cloudy air" (saith Lemnius) "men are tetric, sad, and peevish: And if the western winds blow, and that there be a calm, or a fair sunshine day, there is a kind of alacrity in men's minds; it cheers up men and beasts: but if it be a turbulent, rough, cloudy, stormy weather, men are sad, lumpish, and much dejected, angry, waspish, dull, and melancholy." This was [1530]Virgil's experiment of old,

"Verum ubi tempestas, et coeli mobilis humor Mutavere vices, et Jupiter humidus Austro, Vertuntur species animorum, et pectore motus Concipiunt alios"------

"But when the face of Heaven changed is To tempests, rain, from season fair: Our minds are altered, and in our b.r.e.a.s.t.s Forthwith some new conceits appear."

And who is not weather-wise against such and such conjunctions of planets, moved in foul weather, dull and heavy in such tempestuous seasons? [1531]

_Gelidum contristat Aquarius annum_: the time requires, and the autumn breeds it; winter is like unto it, ugly, foul, squalid, the air works on all men, more or less, but especially on such as are melancholy, or inclined to it, as Lemnius holds, [1532]"They are most moved with it, and those which are already mad, rave downright, either in, or against a tempest. Besides, the devil many times takes his opportunity of such storms, and when the humours by the air be stirred, he goes in with them, exagitates our spirits, and vexeth our souls; as the sea waves, so are the spirits and humours in our bodies tossed with tempestuous winds and storms." To such as are melancholy therefore, Monta.n.u.s, _consil. 24_, will have tempestuous and rough air to be avoided, and _consil. 27_, all night air, and would not have them to walk abroad, but in a pleasant day.

Lemnius, _l. 3. c. 3_, discommends the south and eastern winds, commends the north. Monta.n.u.s, _consil. 31._ [1533]"Will not any windows to be opened in the night." _Consil. 229. et consil. 230_, he discommends especially the south wind, and nocturnal air: So doth [1534]Plutarch. The night and darkness makes men sad, the like do all subterranean vaults, dark houses in caves and rocks, desert places cause melancholy in an instant, especially such as have not been used to it, or otherwise accustomed. Read more of air in Hippocrates, _Aetius, l. 3. a c. 171. ad 175._ Oribasius, _a c. 1. ad 21._ Avicen. _l. 1. can. Fen. 2. doc. 2. Fen. 1. c. 123_ to the 12, &c.

SUBSECT. VI.--_Immoderate Exercise a cause, and how. Solitariness, Idleness_.

Nothing so good but it may be abused: nothing better than exercise (if opportunely used) for the preservation of the body: nothing so bad if it be unseasonable. violent, or overmuch. Fernelius out of Galen, _Path. lib. 1.

c. 16_, saith, [1535]"That much exercise and weariness consumes the spirits and substance, refrigerates the body; and such humours which Nature would have otherwise concocted and expelled, it stirs up and makes them rage: which being so enraged, diversely affect and trouble the body and mind." So doth it, if it be unseasonably used, upon a full stomach, or when the body is full of crudities, which Fuchsius so much inveighs against, _lib. 2.

inst.i.t. sec. 2. c. 4_, giving that for a cause, why schoolboys in Germany are so often scabbed, because they use exercise presently after meats.

[1536]Bayerus puts in a caveat against such exercise, because "it [1537]corrupts the meat in the stomach, and carries the same juice raw, and as yet undigested, into the veins" (saith Lemnius), "which there putrefies and confounds the animal spirits." Crato, _consil. 21. l. 2_, [1538]protests against all such exercise after meat, as being the greatest enemy to concoction that may be, and cause of corruption of humours, which produce this, and many other diseases. Not without good reason then doth Sal.u.s.t. Salvia.n.u.s, _l. 2. c. 1_, and Leonartus Jacchinus, _in 9. Rhasis_, Mercurialis, Arcuba.n.u.s, and many other, set down [1539]immoderate exercise as a most forcible cause of melancholy.

Opposite to exercise is idleness (the badge of gentry) or want of exercise, the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, stepmother of discipline, the chief author of all mischief, one of the seven deadly sins, and a sole cause of this and many other maladies, the devil's cushion, as [1540]Gualter calls it, his pillow and chief reposal. "For the mind can never rest, but still meditates on one thing or other, except it be occupied about some honest business, of his own accord it rusheth into melancholy." [1541]"As too much and violent exercise offends on the one side, so doth an idle life on the other" (saith Crato), "it fills the body full of phlegm, gross humours, and all manner of obstructions, rheums, catarrhs," &c. Rhasis, _cont. lib. 1. tract. 9_, accounts of it as the greatest cause of melancholy. [1542]"I have often seen" (saith he) "that idleness begets this humour more than anything else." Montaltus, _c. 1_, seconds him out of his experience, [1543]"They that are idle are far more subject to melancholy than such as are conversant or employed about any office or business." [1544]Plutarch reckons up idleness for a sole cause of the sickness of the soul: "There are they" (saith he) "troubled in mind, that have no other cause but this." Homer, _Iliad. 1_, brings in Achilles eating of his own heart in his idleness, because he might not fight.

Mercurialis, _consil. 86_, for a melancholy young man urgeth, [1545]it as a chief cause; why was he melancholy? because idle. Nothing begets it sooner, increaseth and continueth it oftener than idleness. [1546]A disease familiar to all idle persons, an inseparable companion to such as live at ease, _Pingui otio desidiose agentes_, a life out of action, and have no calling or ordinary employment to busy themselves about, that have small occasions; and though they have, such is their laziness, dullness, they will not compose themselves to do aught; they cannot abide work, though it be necessary; easy as to dress themselves, write a letter, or the like; yet as he that is benumbed with cold sits still shaking, that might relieve himself with a little exercise or stirring, do they complain, but will not use the facile and ready means to do themselves good; and so are still tormented with melancholy. Especially if they have been formerly brought up to business, or to keep much company, and upon a sudden come to lead a sedentary life; it crucifies their souls, and seizeth on them in an instant; for whilst they are any ways employed, in action, discourse, about any business, sport or recreation, or in company to their liking, they are very well; but if alone or idle, tormented instantly again; one day's solitariness, one hour's sometimes, doth them more harm, than a week's physic, labour, and company can do good. Melancholy seizeth on them forthwith being alone, and is such a torture, that as wise Seneca well saith, _Malo mihi male quam molliter esse_, I had rather be sick than idle.

This idleness is either of body or mind. That of body is nothing but a kind of benumbing laziness, intermitting exercise, which, if we may believe [1547]Fernelius, "causeth crudities, obstructions, excremental humours, quencheth the natural heat, dulls the spirits, and makes them unapt to do any thing whatsoever."

[1548] "Neglectis urenda filix innascitur agris."

------"for, a neglected field Shall for the fire its thorns and thistles yield."

As fern grows in untilled grounds, and all manner of weeds, so do gross humours in an idle body, _Ignavum corrumpunt otia corpus_. A horse in a stable that never travels, a hawk in a mew that seldom flies, are both subject to diseases; which left unto themselves, are most free from any such enc.u.mbrances. An idle dog will be mangy, and how shall an idle person think to escape? Idleness of the mind is much worse than this of the body; wit without employment is a disease [1549]_Aerugo animi, rubigo ingenii_: the rust of the soul, [1550]a plague, a h.e.l.l itself, _Maximum animi noc.u.mentum_, Galen, calls it. [1551]"As in a standing pool, worms and filthy creepers increase, (_et vitium capiunt ni moveantur aquae_, the water itself putrefies, and air likewise, if it be not continually stirred by the wind) so do evil and corrupt thoughts in an idle person," the soul is contaminated. In a commonwealth, where is no public enemy, there is likely civil wars, and they rage upon themselves: this body of ours, when it is idle, and knows not how to bestow itself, macerates and vexeth itself with cares, griefs, false fears, discontents, and suspicions; it tortures and preys upon his own bowels, and is never at rest. Thus much I dare boldly say; he or she that is idle, be they of what condition they will, never so rich, so well allied, fortunate, happy, let them have all things in abundance and felicity that heart can wish and desire, all contentment, so long as he or she or they are idle, they shall never be pleased, never well in body and mind, but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weeping, sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the world, with every object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else earned away with some foolish phantasy or other. And this is the true cause that so many great men, ladies, and gentlewomen, labour of this disease in country and city; for idleness is an appendix to n.o.bility; they count it a disgrace to work, and spend all their days in sports, recreations, and pastimes, and will therefore take no pains; be of no vocation: they feed liberally, fare well, want exercise, action, employment, (for to work, I say, they may not abide,) and Company to their desires, and thence their bodies become full of gross humours, wind, crudities; their minds disquieted, dull, heavy, &c.

care, jealousy, fear of some diseases, sullen fits, weeping fits seize too [1552]familiarly on them. For what will not fear and phantasy work in an idle body? what distempers will they not cause? when the children of [1553]

Israel murmured against Pharaoh in Egypt, he commanded his officers to double their task, and let them get straw themselves, and yet make their full number of bricks; for the sole cause why they mutiny, and are evil at ease, is, "they are idle." When you shall hear and see so many discontented persons in all places where you come, so many several grievances, unnecessary complaints, fears, suspicions, [1554]the best means to redress it is to set them awork, so to busy their minds; for the truth is, they are idle. Well they may build castles in the air for a time, and sooth up themselves with fantastical and pleasant humours, but in the end they will prove as bitter as gall, they shall be still I say discontent, suspicious, [1555]fearful, jealous, sad, fretting and vexing of themselves; so long as they be idle, it is impossible to please them, _Otio qui nescit uti, plus habet negotii quam qui negotium in negotio_, as that [1556]Agellius could observe: He that knows not how to spend his time, hath more business, care, grief, anguish of mind, than he that is most busy in the midst of all his business. _Otiosus animus nescit quid volet_: An idle person (as he follows it) knows not when he is well, what he would have, or whither he would go, _Quum illuc ventum est, illinc lubet_, he is tired out with everything, displeased with all, weary of his life: _Nec bene domi, nec militiae_, neither at home nor abroad, _errat, et praeter vitam vivitur_, he wanders and lives besides himself. In a word, What the mischievous effects of laziness and idleness are, I do not find any where more accurately expressed, than in these verses of Philolaches in the [1557]Comical Poet, which for their elegancy I will in part insert.

"Novarum aedium esse arbitror similem ego hominem, Quando hic natus est: Ei rei argumenta dicam.

Aedes quando sunt ad amussim expolitae, Quisque laudat fabrum, atque exemplum expet.i.t, &c.

At ubi illo migrat nequam h.o.m.o indiligensque, &c.

Tempestas venit, confringit tegulas, imbricesque, Putrifacit aer operam fabri, &c.

Dicam ut homines similes esse aedium arbitremini, Fabri parentes fundamentum substruunt liberorum, Expoliunt, docent literas, nec parc.u.n.t sumptui, Ego autem sub fabrorum potestate frugi fui, Postquam autem migravi in ingenium meum, Perdidi operam fabrorum illico oppido, Venit ignavia, ea mihi tempestas fuit, Adventuque suo grandinem et imbrem attulit, Illa mihi virtutem deturbavit," &c.

A young man is like a fair new house, the carpenter leaves it well built, in good repair, of solid stuff; but a bad tenant lets it rain in, and for want of reparation, fall to decay, &c. Our parents, tutors, friends, spare no cost to bring us up in our youth, in all manner of virtuous education; but when we are left to ourselves, idleness as a tempest drives all virtuous motions out of our minds, et _nihili sumus_, on a sudden, by sloth and such bad ways, we come to nought.

Cousin german to idleness, and a concomitant cause, which goes hand in hand with it, is [1558]_nimia solitudo_, too much solitariness, by the testimony of all physicians, cause and symptom both; but as it is here put for a cause, it is either coact, enforced, or else voluntary. Enforced solitariness is commonly seen in students, monks, friars, anchorites, that by their order and course of life must abandon all company, society of other men, and betake themselves to a private cell: _Otio superst.i.tioso seclusi_, as Bale and Hospinian well term it, such as are the Carthusians of our time, that eat no flesh (by their order), keep perpetual silence, never go abroad. Such as live in prison, or some desert place, and cannot have company, as many of our country gentlemen do in solitary houses, they must either be alone without companions, or live beyond their means, and entertain all comers as so many hosts, or else converse with their servants and hinds, such as are unequal, inferior to them, and of a contrary disposition: or else as some do, to avoid solitariness, spend their time with lewd fellows in taverns, and in alehouses, and thence addict themselves to some unlawful disports, or dissolute courses. Divers again are cast upon this rock of solitariness for want of means, or out of a strong apprehension of some infirmity, disgrace, or through bashfulness, rudeness, simplicity, they cannot apply themselves to others' company.

_Nullum solum infelici gratius solitudine, ubi nullus sit qui miseriam exprobret_; this enforced solitariness takes place, and produceth his effect soonest in such as have spent their time jovially, peradventure in all honest recreations, in good company, in some great family or populous city, and are upon a sudden confined to a desert country cottage far off, restrained of their liberty, and barred from their ordinary a.s.sociates; solitariness is very irksome to such, most tedious, and a sudden cause of great inconvenience.

Voluntary solitariness is that which is familiar with melancholy, and gently brings on like a Siren, a shoeing-horn, or some sphinx to this irrevocable gulf, [1559]a primary cause, Piso calls it; most pleasant it is at first, to such as are melancholy given, to lie in bed whole days, and keep their chambers, to walk alone in some solitary grove, betwixt wood and water, by a brook side, to meditate upon some delightsome and pleasant subject, which shall affect them most; _amabilis insania, et mentis gratissimus error_: a most incomparable delight it is so to melancholise, and build castles in the air, to go smiling to themselves, acting an infinite variety of parts, which they suppose and strongly imagine they represent, or that they see acted or done: _Blandae quidem ab initio_, saith Lemnius, to conceive and meditate of such pleasant things, sometimes, [1560]"present, past, or to come," as Rhasis speaks. So delightsome these toys are at first, they could spend whole days and nights without sleep, even whole years alone in such contemplations, and fantastical meditations, which are like unto dreams, and they will hardly be drawn from them, or willingly interrupt, so pleasant their vain conceits are, that they hinder their ordinary tasks and necessary business, they cannot address themselves to them, or almost to any study or employment, these fantastical and bewitching thoughts so covertly, so feelingly, so urgently, so continually set upon, creep in, insinuate, possess, overcome, distract, and detain them, they cannot, I say, go about their more necessary business, stave off or extricate themselves, but are ever musing, melancholising, and carried along, as he (they say) that is led round about a heath with a Puck in the night, they run earnestly on in this labyrinth of anxious and solicitous melancholy meditations, and cannot well or willingly refrain, or easily leave off, winding and unwinding themselves, as so many clocks, and still pleasing their humours, until at last the scene is turned upon a sudden, by some bad object, and they being now habituated to such vain meditations and solitary places, can endure no company, can ruminate of nothing but harsh and distasteful subjects. Fear, sorrow, suspicion, _subrusticus pudor_, discontent, cares, and weariness of life surprise them in a moment, and they can think of nothing else, continually suspecting, no sooner are their eyes open, but this infernal plague of melancholy seizeth on them, and terrifies their souls, representing some dismal object to their minds, which now by no means, no labour, no persuasions they can avoid, _haeret lateri lethalis arundo_, (the arrow of death still remains in the side), they may not be rid of it, [1561]they cannot resist. I may not deny but that there is some profitable meditation, contemplation, and kind of solitariness to be embraced, which the fathers so highly commended, [1562]

Hierom, Chrysostom, Cyprian, Austin, in whole tracts, which Petrarch, Erasmus, Stella, and others, so much magnify in their books; a paradise, a heaven on earth, if it be used aright, good for the body, and better for the soul: as many of those old monks used it, to divine contemplations, as Simulus, a courtier in Adrian's time, Diocletian the emperor, retired themselves, &c., in that sense, _Vatia solus scit vivere_, Vatia lives alone, which the Romans were wont to say, when they commended a country life. Or to the bettering of their knowledge, as Democritus, Cleanthes, and those excellent philosophers have ever done, to sequester themselves from the tumultuous world, or as in Pliny's villa Laurentana, Tully's Tusculan, Jovius' study, that they might better _vacare studiis et Deo_, serve G.o.d, and follow their studies. Methinks, therefore, our too zealous innovators were not so well advised in that general subversion of abbeys and religious houses, promiscuously to fling down all; they might have taken away those gross abuses crept in amongst them, rectified such inconveniences, and not so far to have raved and raged against those fair buildings, and everlasting monuments of our forefathers' devotion, consecrated to pious uses; some monasteries and collegiate cells might have been well spared, and their revenues otherwise employed, here and there one, in good towns or cities at least, for men and women of all sorts and conditions to live in, to sequester themselves from the cares and tumults of the world, that were not desirous, or fit to marry; or otherwise willing to be troubled with common affairs, and know not well where to bestow themselves, to live apart in, for more conveniency, good education, better company sake, to follow their studies (I say), to the perfection of arts and sciences, common good, and as some truly devoted monks of old had done, freely and truly to serve G.o.d. For these men are neither solitary, nor idle, as the poet made answer to the husbandman in Aesop, that objected idleness to him; he was never so idle as in his company; or that Scipio Africa.n.u.s in [1563]Tully, _Nunquam minus solus, quam c.u.m solus; nunquam minus otiosus, quam quum esset otiosus_; never less solitary, than when he was alone, never more busy, than when he seemed to be most idle. It is reported by Plato in his dialogue _de Amore_, in that prodigious commendation of Socrates, how a deep meditation coming into Socrates' mind by chance, he stood still musing, _eodem vestigio cogitabundus_, from morning to noon, and when as then he had not yet finished his meditation, _perstabat cogitans_, he so continued till the evening, the soldiers (for he then followed the camp) observed him with admiration, and on set purpose watched all night, but he persevered immovable _ad exhortim solis_, till the sun rose in the morning, and then saluting the sun, went his ways. In what humour constant Socrates did thus, I know not, or how he might be affected, but this would be pernicious to another man; what intricate business might so really possess him, I cannot easily guess; but this is _otiosum otium_, it is far otherwise with these men, according to Seneca, _Omnia n.o.bis mala solitudo persuadet_; this solitude undoeth us, _pugnat c.u.m vita sociali_; 'tis a destructive solitariness. These men are devils alone, as the saying is, _h.o.m.o solus aut Deus, aut Daemon_: a man alone, is either a saint or a devil, _mens ejus aut languescit, aut tumescit_; and [1564]_Vae soli_ in this sense, woe be to him that is so alone. These wretches do frequently degenerate from men, and of sociable creatures become beasts, monsters, inhumane, ugly to behold, _Misanthropi_; they do even loathe themselves, and hate the company of men, as so many Timons, Nebuchadnezzars, by too much indulging to these pleasing humours, and through their own default. So that which Mercurialis, _consil. 11_, sometimes expostulated with his melancholy patient, may be justly applied to every solitary and idle person in particular. [1565]_Natura de te videtur conqueri posse_, &c. "Nature may justly complain of thee, that whereas she gave thee a good wholesome temperature, a sound body, and G.o.d hath given thee so divine and excellent a soul, so many good parts, and profitable gifts, thou hast not only contemned and rejected, but hast corrupted them, polluted them, overthrown their temperature, and perverted those gifts with riot, idleness, solitariness, and many other ways, thou art a traitor to G.o.d and nature, an enemy to thyself and to the world." _Perditio tua ex te_; thou hast lost thyself wilfully, cast away thyself, "thou thyself art the efficient cause of thine own misery, by not resisting such vain cogitations, but giving way unto them."

SUBSECT. VII.--_Sleeping and Waking, Causes_.

What I have formerly said of exercise, I may now repeat of sleep. Nothing better than moderate sleep, nothing worse than it, if it be in extremes, or unseasonably used. It is a received opinion, that a melancholy man cannot sleep overmuch; _Somnus supra modum prodest_, as an only antidote, and nothing offends them more, or causeth this malady sooner, than waking, yet in some cases sleep may do more harm than good, in that phlegmatic, swinish, cold, and sluggish melancholy which Melancthon speaks of, that thinks of waters, sighing most part, &c. [1566]It dulls the spirits, if overmuch, and senses; fills the head full of gross humours; causeth distillations, rheums, great store of excrements in the brain, and all the other parts, as [1567]Fuchsius speaks of them, that sleep like so many dormice. Or if it be used in the daytime, upon a full stomach, the body ill-composed to rest, or after hard meats, it increaseth fearful dreams, incubus, night walking, crying out, and much unquietness; such sleep prepares the body, as [1568]one observes, "to many perilous diseases." But, as I have said, waking overmuch, is both a symptom, and an ordinary cause.

"It causeth dryness of the brain, frenzy, dotage, and makes the body dry, lean, hard, and ugly to behold," as [1569]Lemnius hath it. "The temperature of the brain is corrupted by it, the humours adust, the eyes made to sink into the head, choler increased, and the whole body inflamed:" and, as may be added out of Galen, _3. de sanitate tuendo_, Avicenna _3. 1._ [1570]"It overthrows the natural heat, it causeth crudities, hurts, concoction," and what not? Not without good cause therefore Crato, _consil. 21. lib. 2_; Hildesheim, _spicel. 2. de delir. et Mania_, Jacchinus, Arcula.n.u.s on Rhasis, Guianerius and Mercurialis, reckon up this overmuch waking as a princ.i.p.al cause.

MEMB. III.

SUBSECT. I.--_Pa.s.sions and Perturbations of the Mind, how they cause Melancholy_.

As that gymnosophist in [1571]Plutarch made answer to Alexander (demanding which spake best), Every one of his fellows did speak better than the other: so may I say of these causes; to him that shall require which is the greatest, every one is more grievous than other, and this of pa.s.sion the greatest of all. A most frequent and ordinary cause of melancholy, [1572]

_fulmen perturbationum_ (Picolomineus calls it) this thunder and lightning of perturbation, which causeth such violent and speedy alterations in this our microcosm, and many times subverts the good estate and temperature of it. For as the body works upon the mind by his bad humours, troubling the spirits, sending gross fumes into the brain, and so _per consequens_ disturbing the soul, and all the faculties of it,

[1573] ------"Corpus onustum, Hesternis vitiis animum quoque praegravat una,"

with fear, sorrow, &c., which are ordinary symptoms of this disease: so on the other side, the mind most effectually works upon the body, producing by his pa.s.sions and perturbations miraculous alterations, as melancholy, despair, cruel diseases, and sometimes death itself. Insomuch that it is most true which Plato saith in his Charmides, _omnia corporis mala ab anima procedere_; all the [1574]mischiefs of the body proceed from the soul: and Democritus in [1575]Plutarch urgeth, _d.a.m.natam iri animam a corpore_, if the body should in this behalf bring an action against the soul, surely the soul would be cast and convicted, that by her supine negligence had caused such inconveniences, having authority over the body, and using it for an instrument, as a smith doth his hammer (saith [1576]Cyprian), imputing all those vices and maladies to the mind. Even so doth [1577]Philostratus, _non coinquinatur corpus, nisi consensuanimae_; the body is not corrupted, but by the soul. Lodovicus Vives will have such turbulent commotions proceed from ignorance and indiscretion. [1578]All philosophers impute the miseries of the body to the soul, that should have governed it better, by command of reason, and hath not done it. The Stoics are altogether of opinion (as [1579]Lipsius and [1580]Picolomineus record), that a wise man should be [Greek: apathaes], without all manner of pa.s.sions and perturbations whatsoever, as [1581]Seneca reports of Cato, the [1582] Greeks of Socrates, and [1583]Io. Auba.n.u.s of a nation in Africa, so free from pa.s.sion, or rather so stupid, that if they be wounded with a sword, they will only look back. [1584]Lactantius, _2 inst.i.t._, will exclude "fear from a wise man:"

others except all, some the greatest pa.s.sions. But let them dispute how they will, set down in Thesi, give precepts to the contrary; we find that of [1585]Lemnius true by common experience; "No mortal man is free from these perturbations: or if he be so, sure he is either a G.o.d, or a block."

They are born and bred with us, we have them from our parents by inheritance. _A parentibus habemus malum hunc a.s.sem_, saith [1586]Pelezius, _Nascitur una n.o.bisc.u.m, aliturque_, 'tis propagated from Adam, Cain was melancholy, [1587]as Austin hath it, and who is not? Good discipline, education, philosophy, divinity (I cannot deny), may mitigate and restrain these pa.s.sions in some few men at some times, but most part they domineer, and are so violent, [1588]that as a torrent (_torrens velut aggere rupto_) bears down all before, and overflows his banks, _sternit agros, sternit sata_, (lays waste the fields, prostrates the crops,) they overwhelm reason, judgment, and pervert the temperature of the body; _Fertur [1589]

equis auriga, nec audit currus habenas_. Now such a man (saith [1590]Austin) "that is so led, in a wise man's eye, is no better than he that stands upon his head." It is doubted by some, _Gravioresne morbi a perturbationibus, an ab humoribus_, whether humours or perturbations cause the more grievous maladies. But we find that of our Saviour, Mat. xxvi. 41, most true, "The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak," we cannot resist; and this of [1591]Philo Judeus, "Perturbations often offend the body, and are most frequent causes of melancholy, turning it out of the hinges of his health." Vives compares them to [1592]"Winds upon the sea, some only move as those great gales, but others turbulent quite overturn the ship." Those which are light, easy, and more seldom, to our thinking, do us little harm, and are therefore contemned of us: yet if they be reiterated, [1593]"as the rain" (saith Austin) "doth a stone, so do these perturbations penetrate the mind:" [1594]and (as one observes) "produce a habit of melancholy at the last," which having gotten the mastery in our souls, may well be called diseases.

How these pa.s.sions produce this effect, [1595]Agrippa hath handled at large, _Occult. Philos. l. 11. c. 63._ Cardan, _l. 14. subtil._ Lemnius, _l. 1. c. 12, de occult. nat. mir. et lib. 1. cap. 16._ Suarez, _Met.

disput. 18. sect. 1. art. 25._ T. Bright, _cap. 12._ of his Melancholy Treatise. Wright the Jesuit, in his Book of the Pa.s.sions of the Mind, &c.

Thus in brief, to our imagination cometh by the outward sense or memory, some object to be known (residing in the foremost part of the brain), which he misconceiving or amplifying presently communicates to the heart, the seat of all affections. The pure spirits forthwith flock from the brain to the heart, by certain secret channels, and signify what good or bad object was presented; [1596]which immediately bends itself to prosecute, or avoid it; and withal, draweth with it other humours to help it: so in pleasure, concur great store of purer spirits; in sadness, much melancholy blood; in ire, choler. If the imagination be very apprehensive, intent, and violent, it sends great store of spirits to, or from the heart, and makes a deeper impression, and greater tumult, as the humours in the body be likewise prepared, and the temperature itself ill or well disposed, the pa.s.sions are longer and stronger; so that the first step and fountain of all our grievances in this kind, is [1597]_laesa imaginatio_, which misinforming the heart, causeth all these distemperatures, alteration and confusion of spirits and humours. By means of which, so disturbed, concoction is hindered, and the princ.i.p.al parts are much debilitated; as [1598]Dr.

Navarra well declared, being consulted by Monta.n.u.s about a melancholy Jew.

The spirits so confounded, the nourishment must needs be abated, bad humours increased, crudities and thick spirits engendered with melancholy blood. The other parts cannot perform their functions, having the spirits drawn from them by vehement pa.s.sion, but fail in sense and motion; so we look upon a thing, and see it not; hear, and observe not; which otherwise would much affect us, had we been free. I may therefore conclude with [1599]Arnoldus, _Maxima vis est phantasiae, et huic uni fere, non autem corporis intemperiei, omnis melancholiae causa est ascribenda_: "Great is the force of imagination, and much more ought the cause of melancholy to be ascribed to this alone, than to the distemperature of the body." Of which imagination, because it hath so great a stroke in producing this malady, and is so powerful of itself, it will not be improper to my discourse, to make a brief digression, and speak of the force of it, and how it causeth this alteration. Which manner of digression, howsoever some dislike, as frivolous and impertinent, yet I am of [1600]Beroaldus's opinion, "Such digressions do mightily delight and refresh a weary reader, they are like sauce to a bad stomach, and I do therefore most willingly use them."

SUBSECT. II.--_Of the Force of Imagination_.

What imagination is, I have sufficiently declared in my digression of the anatomy of the soul. I will only now point at the wonderful effects and power of it; which, as it is eminent in all, so most especially it rageth in melancholy persons, in keeping the species of objects so long, mistaking, amplifying them by continual and [1601]strong meditation, until at length it produceth in some parties real effects, causeth this, and many other maladies. And although this phantasy of ours be a subordinate faculty to reason, and should be ruled by it, yet in many men, through inward or outward distemperatures, defect of organs, which are unapt, or otherwise contaminated, it is likewise unapt, or hindered, and hurt. This we see verified in sleepers, which by reason of humours and concourse of vapours troubling the phantasy, imagine many times absurd and prodigious things, and in such as are troubled with incubus, or witch-ridden (as we call it), if they lie on their backs, they suppose an old woman rides, and sits so hard upon them, that they are almost stifled for want of breath; when there is nothing offends, but a concourse of bad humours, which trouble the phantasy. This is likewise evident in such as walk in the night in their sleep, and do strange feats: [1602]these vapours move the phantasy, the phantasy the appet.i.te, which moving the animal spirits causeth the body to walk up and down as if they were awake. Fracast. _l. 3. de intellect_, refers all ecstasies to this force of imagination, such as lie whole days together in a trance: as that priest whom [1603]Celsus speaks of, that could separate himself from his senses when he list, and lie like a dead man, void of life and sense. Cardan brags of himself, that he could do as much, and that when he list. Many times such men when they come to themselves, tell strange things of heaven and h.e.l.l, what visions they have seen; as that St. Owen, in Matthew Paris, that went into St. Patrick's purgatory, and the monk of Evesham in the same author. Those common apparitions in Bede and Gregory, Saint Bridget's revelations, Wier. _l. 3.

de lamiis, c. 11._ Caesar Vanninus, in his Dialogues, &c. reduceth (as I have formerly said), with all those tales of witches' progresses, dancing, riding, transformations, operations, &c. to the force of [1604]

imagination, and the [1605]devil's illusions. The like effects almost are to be seen in such as are awake: how many chimeras, antics, golden mountains and castles in the air do they build unto themselves? I appeal to painters, mechanicians, mathematicians. Some ascribe all vices to a false and corrupt imagination, anger, revenge, l.u.s.t, ambition, covetousness, which prefers falsehood before that which is right and good, deluding the soul with false shows and suppositions. [1606]Bernardus Penottus will have heresy and superst.i.tion to proceed from this fountain; as he falsely imagineth, so he believeth; and as he conceiveth of it, so it must be, and it shall be, _contra gentes_, he will have it so. But most especially in pa.s.sions and affections, it shows strange and evident effects: what will not a fearful man conceive in the dark? What strange forms of bugbears, devils, witches, goblins? Lavater imputes the greatest cause of spectrums, and the like apparitions, to fear, which above all other pa.s.sions begets the strongest imagination (saith [1607]Wierus), and so likewise love, sorrow, joy, &c. Some die suddenly, as she that saw her son come from the battle at Cannae, &c. Jacob the patriarch, by force of imagination, made speckled lambs, laying speckled rods before his sheep. Persina, that Ethiopian queen in Heliodorus, by seeing the picture of Persius and Andromeda, instead of a blackamoor, was brought to bed of a fair white child. In imitation of whom belike, a hard-favoured fellow in Greece, because he and his wife were both deformed, to get a good brood of children, _Elegantissimas imagines in thalamo collocavit_, &c. hung the fairest pictures he could buy for money in his chamber, "That his wife by frequent sight of them, might conceive and bear such children." And if we may believe Bale, one of Pope Nicholas the Third's concubines by seeing of [1608]a bear was brought to bed of a monster. "If a woman" (saith [1609]

Lemnius), "at the time of her conception think of another man present or absent, the child will be like him." Great-bellied women, when they long, yield us prodigious examples in this kind, as moles, warts, scars, harelips, monsters, especially caused in their children by force of a depraved phantasy in them: _Ipsam speciem quam animo effigiat, faetui inducit_: She imprints that stamp upon her child which she [1610]conceives unto herself. And therefore Lodovicus Vives, _lib. 2. de Christ, faem._, gives a special caution to great-bellied women, [1611]"that they do not admit such absurd conceits and cogitations, but by all means avoid those horrible objects, heard or seen, or filthy spectacles." Some will laugh, weep, sigh, groan, blush, tremble, sweat, at such things as are suggested unto them by their imagination. Avicenna speaks of one that could cast himself into a palsy when he list; and some can imitate the tunes of birds and beasts that they can hardly be discerned: Dagebertus' and Saint Francis' scars and wounds, like those of Christ's (if at the least any such were), [1612]Agrippa supposeth to have happened by force of imagination: that some are turned to wolves, from men to women, and women again to men (which is constantly believed) to the same imagination; or from men to a.s.ses, dogs, or any other shapes. [1613]Wierus ascribes all those famous transformations to imagination; that in hydrophobia they seem to see the picture of a dog, still in their water, [1614]that melancholy men and sick men conceive so many fantastical visions, apparitions to themselves, and have such absurd apparitions, as that they are kings, lords, c.o.c.ks, bears, apes, owls; that they are heavy, light, transparent, great and little, senseless and dead (as shall be showed more at large, in our [1615]

sections of symptoms), can be imputed to nought else, but to a corrupt, false, and violent imagination. It works not in sick and melancholy men only, but even most forcibly sometimes in such as are sound: it makes them suddenly sick, and [1616]alters their temperature in an instant. And sometimes a strong conceit or apprehension, as [1617]Valesius proves, will take away diseases: in both kinds it will produce real effects. Men, if they see but another man tremble, giddy or sick of some fearful disease, their apprehension and fear is so strong in this kind, that they will have the same disease. Or if by some soothsayer, wiseman, fortune-teller, or physician, they be told they shall have such a disease, they will so seriously apprehend it, that they will instantly labour of it. A thing familiar in China (saith Riccius the Jesuit), [1618]"If it be told them they shall be sick on such a day, when that day comes they will surely be sick, and will be so terribly afflicted, that sometimes they die upon it."

Dr. Cotta in his discovery of ignorant pract.i.tioners of physic, _cap. 8_, hath two strange stories to this purpose, what fancy is able to do. The one of a parson's wife in Northamptonshire, _An._ 1607, that coming to a physician, and told by him that she was troubled with the sciatica, as he conjectured (a disease she was free from), the same night after her return, upon his words, fell into a grievous fit of a sciatica: and such another example he hath of another good wife, that was so troubled with the cramp, after the same manner she came by it, because her physician did but name it. Sometimes death itself is caused by force of phantasy. I have heard of one that coming by chance in company of him that was thought to be sick of the plague (which was not so) fell down suddenly dead. Another was sick of the plague with conceit. One seeing his fellow let blood falls down in a swoon. Another (saith [1619]Cardan out of Aristotle), fell down dead (which is familiar to women at any ghastly sight), seeing but a man hanged. A Jew in France (saith [1620]Lodovicus Vives), came by chance over a dangerous pa.s.sage or plank, that lay over a brook in the dark, without harm, the next day perceiving what danger he was in, fell down dead. Many will not believe such stories to be true, but laugh commonly, and deride when they hear of them; but let these men consider with themselves, as [1621]Peter Byarus ill.u.s.trates it, If they were set to walk upon a plank on high, they would be giddy, upon which they dare securely walk upon the ground. Many (saith Agrippa), [1622]"strong-hearted men otherwise, tremble at such sights, dazzle, and are sick, if they look but down from a high place, and what moves them but conceit?" As some are so molested by phantasy; so some again, by fancy alone, and a good conceit, are as easily recovered. We see commonly the toothache, gout, falling-sickness, biting of a mad dog, and many such maladies cured by spells, words, characters, and charms, and many green wounds by that now so much used _Unguentum Armarium_, magnetically cured, which Crollius and Goclenius in a book of late hath defended, Libavius in a just tract as stiffly contradicts, and most men controvert.

All the world knows there is no virtue in such charms or cures, but a strong conceit and opinion alone, as [1623]Pomponatius holds, "which forceth a motion of the humours, spirits, and blood, which takes away the cause of the malady from the parts affected." The like we may say of our magical effects, superst.i.tious cures, and such as are done by mountebanks and wizards. "As by wicked incredulity many men are hurt" (so saith [1624]Wierus of charms, spells, &c.), "we find in our experience, by the same means many are relieved." An empiric oftentimes, and a silly chirurgeon, doth more strange cures than a rational physician. Nymannus gives a reason, because the patient puts his confidence in him, [1625]

which Avicenna "prefers before art, precepts, and all remedies whatsoever."

'Tis opinion alone (saith [1626]Cardan), that makes or mars physicians, and he doth the best cures, according to Hippocrates, in whom most trust. So diversely doth this phantasy of ours affect, turn, and wind, so imperiously command our bodies, which as another [1627]"Proteus, or a chameleon, can take all shapes; and is of such force (as Ficinus adds), that it can work upon others, as well as ourselves." How can otherwise blear eyes in one man cause the like affection in another? Why doth one man's yawning [1628]make another yawn? One man's p.i.s.sing provoke a second many times to do the like?

Why doth sc.r.a.ping of trenchers offend a third, or hacking of files? Why doth a carca.s.s bleed when the murderer is brought before it, some weeks after the murder hath been done? Why do witches and old women fascinate and bewitch children: but as Wierus, Paracelsus, Cardan, Mizaldus, Valleriola, Caesar Vanninus, Campanella, and many philosophers think, the forcible imagination of the one party moves and alters the spirits of the other. Nay more, they can cause and cure not only diseases, maladies, and several infirmities, by this means, as Avicenna, _de anim. l. 4. sect. 4_, supposeth in parties remote, but move bodies from their places, cause thunder, lightning, tempests, which opinion Alkindus, Paracelsus, and some others, approve of. So that I may certainly conclude this strong conceit or imagination is _astrum hominis_, and the rudder of this our ship, which reason should steer, but, overborne by phantasy, cannot manage, and so suffers itself, and this whole vessel of ours to be overruled, and often overturned. Read more of this in Wierus, _l. 3. de Lamiis, c. 8, 9, 10._ Franciscus Valesius, _med. controv. l. 5. cont. 6._ Marcellus Donatus, _l.

2. c. 1. de hist. med. mirabil_. Levinus Lemnius, _de occult. nat. mir. l.

1. c. 12._ Cardan, _l. 18. de rerum var_. Corn. Agrippa, _de occult.

plilos. cap. 64, 65._ Camerarius, _1 cent. cap. 54. horarum subcis_.

Nymannus, _morat. de Imag_. Laurentius, and him that is _instar omnium_, Fienus, a famous physician of Antwerp, that wrote three books _de viribus imaginationis_. I have thus far digressed, because this imagination is the medium deferens of pa.s.sions, by whose means they work and produce many times prodigious effects: and as the phantasy is more or less intended or remitted, and their humours disposed, so do perturbations move, more or less, and take deeper impression.

SUBSECT. III.--_Division of Perturbations_.

Perturbations and pa.s.sions, which trouble the phantasy, though they dwell between the confines of sense and reason, yet they rather follow sense than reason, because they are drowned in corporeal organs of sense. They are commonly [1629]reduced into two inclinations, irascible and concupiscible.

The Thomists subdivide them into eleven, six in the coveting, and five in the invading. Aristotle reduceth all to pleasure and pain, Plato to love and hatred, [1630]Vives to good and bad. If good, it is present, and then we absolutely joy and love; or to come, and then we desire and hope for it.

If evil, we absolute hate it; if present, it is by sorrow; if to come fear.