Philosophy in poetry; a study of Sir John Davies's poem "Nosce teipsum", by E. Hershey Sneath..

PHILOSOPHY IN POETRY

A STUDY OF SIR JOHN DAVIES'S POEM
"NOSCE TEIPSUM"

BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE MIND OF TENNYSON

izmo. $1.25

Philosophy in Poetry

A STUDT OF SIR JOHN DAVIEVS POEM
"NOSCE TEIPSUM"

BY

E. HERSHEY SNEATH, PH.D.

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN YALE UNIVERSITY

The proper study of mankind is man

POP*, Essay on Man

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1903

1147 if

Copyright, 1903,

BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.
All rights reserved.

Published, October, 1903.

UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

S67

The acquisition of knowledge is, we conceive, always some-
thing high and honourable : but one form of knowledge is superior
to another either in virtue of the self-contained simplicity of its
truths or by the greater dignity and wondrousness of its contents :
and on both these grounds the investigation of the soul might
with justice claim a foremost place.

ARISTOTLE, De Anima, trans, by Wallace, Bk. L, Ch. I., Sec. i.

774

PREFACE

SIR JOHN DAVIES'S philosophical poem,
Nosce Teipsum, is regarded by competent
critics as one of the finest pieces of philosophi-
cal verse in the English language. It is really a
masterpiece of metrical philosophy. It is also of
importance as furnishing an insight into the psy-
chology and philosophy of the period immediately
preceding the birth of modern philosophy. How-
ever, no interpretation of the poem, tracing its
antecedents, unfolding its speculative contents, and
giving them an historical setting, has ever been
made by historian or essayist, either in English
literature or in philosophy. The following Study
aims to supply this deficiency. It is, therefore,
hoped that it may prove to be a real contribution
to the literature of both departments of learning,
as .well as of interest to the intelligent reader. As
the poem is not easily accessible, it was deemed
advisable to publish it as an appendix to the Study.
The text is taken from Grosart's edition (London,
1876). It is to be regretted that a more carefully
edited edition of the text is not available.

A study of the sources of Davies's philosophy
was of course necessary for a scholarly treatment

mil Preface

of the subject. Furthermore, it was thought that
a statement of the position of the philosophical
contents of the poem in the stream of speculative
thought might be of special service to students of
English literature. But the introduction of this
material, at the close of the various chapters, has,
to a certain extent, broken the continuity of the
exposition. The only alternatives were to intro-
duce this matter either as footnotes, or as notes at
the end of the volume. After careful considera-
tion, the method adopted seemed less distracting,
and more in accord with the aim of the volume
than the others.

The author gratefully acknowledges his obliga-
tions to his colleague, Professor Albert S. Cook, of
Yale University, for valuable suggestions and criti-
cism in the final revision of the work.

E. H. S.

YALE UNIVERSITY,

October, 1903.

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION i

CHAPTER

I. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. — RELATION TO THE

AGE AND TO PRECEDING THOUGHT . . 22

II. OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 49

III. MEANS BY WHICH THE SOUL is KNOWN . . 63

IV. REALITY OF THE SOUL. — SENSATIONALISM . 80
V. REALITY OF THE SOUL. — MATERIALISM . . 92

VI. NATURE OF THE SOUL. — MATERIALISM . . 100

VII. ORIGIN OF THE SOUL IN CONNECTION WITH

THE BODY 115

VIII. THE RELATION OF SOUL AND BODY ... 141

IX. HOW THE SOUL EXERCISES ITS POWERS IN

THE BODY 156

X. IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 179

CONCLUSION 213

APPENDIX.

NOSCE TEIPSUM . . . 221

PHILOSOPHY IN POETRY

INTRODUCTION

TT is an interesting and noteworthy fact that
English poetry has, to a very large extent,
concerned itself with the problems of philosophy.
The careful student of English verse cannot fail
to be impressed by the fact that England's greatest
poets have been dependent, in no small measure,
upon these problems for poetical inspiration and
content. Beginning with Spenser, we find that he
presents, in the Faery Queen, an elaborate system
of social and moral philosophy. In a letter to
Sir Walter Raleigh he acknowledged this to be his
aim. And, as one reads this interesting and beauti-
ful poem, noting the impersonation of the virtues
in its heroes, he can trace much of the poet's in-
spiration to the Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle.
It would doubtless be drawing upon the imagina-
tion to speak of Shakespeare as formulating a sys-
tem of philosophy. But it is certainly within the

\

2 PbUosopb? in Poetry

bounds of truth to say, that rarely has any psychol-
ogist or moral philosopher portrayed the ethical
life, and its philosophical implications, with greater
accuracy and force than did he. The supremacy
of conscience, the absoluteness of moral law, the
freedom of the human will, man's responsibility
for conduct, the implications of the moral nature
with reference to God and Destiny, these are sub-
jects which engaged the genius of England's great-
est poet, and which he treated with remarkable
insight. Milton, like Dante, derived much inspi-
ration from the problems of Christian philosophy.
Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained show that
a philosophy of evil, and a philosophy of redemp-
tion, inspired poetry which for grandeur and sub-
limity is hardly surpassed in the history of verse.
Pope chose the philosophical problems of man's
relation to the cosmos, his relation to himself, his
relation to society, and his conceptions of human
happiness, as the subjects of his chief poetical
work — the Essay on Man. Among the main
sources of Shelley's early poetical inspiration was
an atheistic and anarchistic philosophy. The very
soul of Queen Mab is a philosophy of negation.
And, later, in Prometheus Unbound, the questions
of social philosophy engaged his mind. Words-

Introduction 3

worth confessed himself ambitious to be a philo-
sophic poet. A philosophy of nature as well as
a philosophy of society seriously commanded his
reflective and aesthetic powers. And Aubrey De
Vere is not far afield in saying: "He is Eng-
land's great philosophic, as Shakespeare is her
great dramatic, and Milton her great epic, poet." 1
Coleridge did most of his philosophizing in prose.
But it is interesting to note how intimately related
are the aesthetic and reflective in his mind, and it
is difficult to resist the conviction, that they were
mutually helpful in his poetizing and philosophiz-
ing. Browning as a poet is greatly indebted to
the problems of philosophy. Doubtless more of
a dramatic psychologist than a philosopher, he
nevertheless thought long and seriously on the
profound problems of a philosophy of life ; and
much of his poetry is devoted to an expression
of a philosophical optimism which is the result
of his reflection. With regard to Tennyson, it has
been shown elsewhere2 that the questions of God,
Freedom, and Immortality — "the inevitable prob-
lems," as Kant calls them — lie at the very roots

1 Essays chiefly on Poetry. London and New York, 1887,
Vol. I. p. 177.

2 Sneath, " The Mind of Tennyson." New York, 1900.

4 Philosophy in Poetry

of his poetry. They, more than any other sub-
ject, engaged his genius. And much of his power
over the hearts and minds of men is due to the
consummate manner in which he has given poetical
expression to his thought on these fundamental
questions.

What is true of English poetry in its relation
to the problems of philosophy, is true of the great
poetry of the world. The great poets of every
age and of every nation deal with the fundamental
problems of human thought and life. A careful
inquiry into the history of poetry — both ancient
and modern — reveals the fact that these vital
problems of thought and life have not been the
exclusive property of the philosopher and theo-
logian, but that the poet also has a legitimate
claim upon them, having established it by the
fact that these problems have proven to be a
prolific source of poetic inspiration; an inex-
haustible storehouse of poetic content or subject-
matter.

Now if we examine the method of the poet's
dealing with these problems we shall find a two-
fold method revealed. The poet may be pos-
sessed of an intuitive power by which he gains
an almost immediate insight into the nature of

Introduction 5

Truth and Reality. Or, like the average philos-
opher, he may reach a knowledge of such Truth
and Reality by a long and carefully sustained
process of reasoning. In the first case, we have
intuitive philosophy ; in the second, reasoned phi-
losophy. In the first case, we have merely a
record of intuitions, clothed often in highly im-
aginative and descriptive poetry. In the second
case, we have philosophizing in verse — a state-
ment of positions, and an elaborate poetical pres-
entation of the process of reasoning by which
those positions were attained. Undoubtedly the
greater portion of philosophical poetry is of the
intuitive order. It is an immediate envisagement
of Truth and Reality. This is what we should
naturally expect. The poet's mind, as a rule,
proceeds synthetically rather than analytically and
discursively, as do the minds of the scientist and
philosopher. He grasps the unity in the manifold,
the one in the many, generally by an act of poetic
intuition rather than by a long process of analysis
and generalization, or by a severe and sustained
method of reasoning. As to whether his intuitions
are as valid as are their generalizations reached by
induction and deduction, individual opinions will
differ. But some there be who will not deny that

6 Philosophy in Poetry

the heart of Reality may be pierced as truly by
such intuition as by logical inference.

But all philosophical poetry is not of the in-
tuitive order. There are poetic minds which, in
their pursuit of ultimate Truth and Reality, pro-
ceed by the ordinary methods of philosophy —
minds that really philosophize — that move by
the slow, careful, and toilsome processes of reason-
ing to the attainment of knowledge; and, having
reached conclusions by such methods, these are
embodied in verse. These minds are, more
strictly speaking, the philosophical poets. They
are, however, undoubtedly aided by the poetic na-
ture in their pursuit of truth in some other man-
ner than by direct intuition, for cognition is not
solely a matter of the intellectual nature of man.
The aesthetic nature shares largely in the pursuit
of knowledge. There are aesthetic momenta in hu-
man knowledge which superficial analysis is wont
to overlook. Much of scientific generalization
and philosophic conclusion is not mere inference
from bare fact of experience. Such generaliza-
tion and conclusion frequently carry us beyond
what rigid logical inference would justify. Man
enters upon the study of phenomena and Reality
with conceptions of, and a love for, order, proper-

Introduction 7

tion, symmetry, and harmony — with aesthetic
ideals and feelings — and insists that an inter-
pretation of the facts of science, and the Reality
of philosophy, satisfy these aesthetic elements of
human nature. The history of science and philos-
ophy bears testimony to the fact. Neither science
nor philosophy can establish, by strictly logical
inference, a world of order and law, of harmony
and proportion, a world of system. These are pos-
tulates having chiefly an aesthetic warrant, rather
than the warrant of strict logical inference from
brute fact. They are none the less valid for all
that. The fact is, that man is not merely logical
intellect, but aesthetic life and feeling ; and Truth
and Reality reveal themselves to man not merely as
intellectual, but also as a^sthetical. And, as we dis-
tinguish the poet who deals with the problems of
philosophy according to the usual methods of the
philosopher from the poet who deals with them by
intuition ; so we may distinguish the poet-philos-
opher from the mere philosopher, not simply by
the fact that the former records his reasoning and
conclusions with respect to ultimate Truth and
Reality in verse instead of prose, but also by the
fact, that in his actual pursuit of knowledge the
aesthetic life figures more conspicuously in his

8 Philosophy in Poetry

attainment of conclusions than it does in the case
of the mere philosopher.

Now one of the most remarkable examples of
actual philosophizing in verse is found in Sir John
Davies's poem — Nosce Teipsum. A sixteenth-
century production, to many students of litera-
ture and philosophy it belongs almost to the
category of " half-forgotten lore." Indeed, it is
questionable whether the poem is known at all
to the large majority of students of philosophy.1
However, it is worthy of a much better fate.
Were an excuse needed for calling attention to
this notable production, it could easily be found
in the fact that, almost by common consent
among competent literary critics, it is pronounced
one of the best examples of philosophical poetry
in our language. An excuse could be found also
in the historical significance of the poem. That
the first statement is correct will be apparent
from an examination of the following record of
critical opinion : —

Beginning with estimates of some of the earlier
writers, Elizabeth Cooper, in her judgment of
Davies, says : " [He] left behind Him more val-

1 Of the many recognized histories of philosophy, the poem
b mentioned by only one.

Introduction 9

liable Witnesses of his Merit, than all the Titles
that Heraldry can invent, or Monarchs bestow:
The joint Applauses of Cambden, Sir John Har-
ington, Ben Johnson, Selden, Donn, Corbet, &c. !
These are great, and unquestionable Authorities
in Favour of this Author ; and I shall only pre-
sume to add, That, in my humble Opinion, no
Philosophical Writer, I have met with, ever ex-
plain'd their Ideas more clearly, or familiarly even
in Prose; or any so beautifully or harmoniously
in Verse. There is a peculiar Happiness in his
Similies, being introduc'd to illustrate, more than
adorn; which renders them as useful, as enter-
taining ; and distinguishes his from those of every
other Author."1

In the next place, George Ellis, after referring
to the fact that the Theatrum Poet arum contains
the names of seventy-four poets belonging to the
Elizabethan period, and to the further fact that
most of them have been " consigned to oblivion,"
remarks, that " a few, such as Drayton, Fairfax,
Warner, Sir John Harrington, Sir Philip Sidney,
Sir Walter Raleigh, &c. continue to be cited in
deference to their ancient reputation; but Shak-
speare, Jonson, Fletcher, Spenser, and Sir John

1 " The Muses' Library," 26. ed. London, Vol. I. p. 332.

io Philosophy in Poetry

Davies, are still confessed to be unrivalled in their
several styles of composition, although near two
centuries have elapsed, during which the progress
of literature and the improvement of our language
have been constant and uninterrupted." 1 He
further adds with respect to Davies : " His poem
on the Immortality of the Soul is a noble mon-
ument of his learning, acuteness, command of
language, and facility of versification. His sim-
ilies (as Mrs. Cooper and Mr. Headley have justly
observed) are singularly happy; always enlivening,
and often illustrating his abstruse and difficult
subject."2

More favorable still is the critical estimate of
Hallam. He says : " Perhaps no language can
produce a poem, extending to so great a length,
of more condensation of thought, or in which
fewer languid verses will be found. . . . Lines
there are in Davies which far outweigh much
of the descriptive and imaginative poetry of the
last two centuries, whether we estimate them by
the pleasure they impart to us, or by the in-
tellectual vigour they display. Experience has

1 "Specimens of the Early English Poets." London, 1811,
Vol. II, pp. 157-158.

2 Ibid., Vol. II. p. 369.

Introduction 1 1

shown that the faculties peculiarly deemed poet-
ical are frequently exhibited in a considerable
degree, but very few have been able to preserve
a perspicuous brevity without stiffness or pedantry
(allowance made for the subject and the times),
in metaphysical reasoning, so successfully as Sir
John Davies." 1

Essentially the same view of Davies is taken
by Campbell, who says: " Davies's poem on
the Immortality of the Soul, entitled ' Nosce teip-
sum,' will convey a much more favourable idea
of metaphysical poetry than the wittiest effusions
of Donne and his followers. Davies carried ab-
stract reasoning into verse with an acuteness and
felicity which have seldom been equalled. He
reasons, undoubtedly, with too much labour, for-
mality, and subtlety, to afford uniform poetical
pleasure. The generality of his stanzas exhibit
hard arguments interwoven with the pliant mate-
rials of fancy so closely, that we may compare
them to a texture of cloth and metallic threads,
which is cold and stiff, while it is splendidly
curious. There is this difference, however, be-
tween Davies and the commonly styled metaphys-

1 " Introduction to the Literature of Europe." London, 1839,
Vol. II. pp. SH-S'S-

12 Philosophy in Poetry

ical poets, that he argues like a hard thinker, and
they, for the most part, like madmen. If we con-
quer the drier parts of Davies's poem, and bestow
a little attention on thoughts which were meant,
not to gratify the indolence, but to challenge the
activity of the mind, we shall find in the entire
essay fresh beauties at every perusal: for in the
happier parts we come to logical truths so well
illustrated by ingenious similes, that we know not
whether to call the thoughts more poetically or
philosophically just. The judgment and fancy
are reconciled, and the imagery of the poem
seems to start more vividly from the surrounding
shades of abstraction." 1

Again, Professor Craik pays this high tribute
to Nosce Teipsum and its author : " [The poem]
is written in rhyme, in the common heroic ten-
syllable verse, but disposed in quatrains, like the
early play of Misogonus already mentioned, and
other poetry of the same era, or like Sir Thomas
Overbury's poem of The Wife, the Gondibert of
Sir William Davenant, and the Annus Mirabilis
of Dryden, at a later period. No one of these
writers has managed this difficult stanza so suc-

1 " Essay on English Poetry," prefixed to " Specimens of the
British Poets," 2d ed. London, 1841, Pt. II. p. Ixx.

Introduction 13

cessfully as Davies: it has the disadvantage of
requiring the sense to be in general closed at
certain regularly and quickly recurring turns,
which yet are very ill adapted for an effective
pause ; and even all the skill of Dryden has been
unable to free it from a certain air of monotony
and languor, — a circumstance of which that poet
may be supposed to have been himself sensible,
since he wholly abandoned it after one or two
early attempts. Davies, however, has conquered
its difficulties; and, as has been observed, ' per-
haps no language can produce a poem, extending
to so great a length, of more condensation of
thought, or in which fewer languid verses will be
found.' : In fact, it is by this condensation and
sententious brevity, so carefully filed and elab-
orated, however, as to involve no sacrifice of
perspicuity or fulness of expression, that he has
attained his end. Every quatrain is a pointed
expression of a separate thought, like one of
Rochefoucault's Maxims ; each thought being, by
great skill and painstaking in the packing, made
exactly to fit and to fill the same case." 2

1 Hallam, « Lit. of Europe," II. p. 227.

2 " A Compendious History of English Literature." New York,
1863, Vol. I. p. 578.

14 Philosophy in Poetry

An American critic, Edwin P. Whipple, speaks
of Davies and his celebrated poem as follows :
" It is usual among critics, even such critics as
Hallam and Campbell, to decide that the imagi-
native power of the poem on the ' Immortality of
the Soul ' consists in the illustration of the argu-
ments rather than in the perception of the prem-
ises. But the truth would seem to be that the
author exhibits his imagination more in his insight
than in his imagery. The poetic excellence of the
work comes from the power of clear, steady be-
holding of spiritual facts with the spiritual eye, —
of beholding them so clearly that the task of stat-
ing, illustrating, and reasoning from them is per-
formed with masterly ease." *

George MacDonald also holds our poet's work
in high esteem. Referring to Nosce Teipsum, he
says : " It is a wonderful instance of what can be
done for metaphysics in verse, and by means of
imagination or poetic embodiment generally. . . .
Sir John Davies's treatise is not only far more
poetic in image and utterance than that of Lord
Brooke, but is far more clear in argument and firm
in expression as well." 2

1 "The Literature of the Age of Elizabeth." Boston, 1869,
pp. 239-240.

2 " England's Antiphon," pp. 105-106.

Introduction 75

Grosart, the editor of Davies's works, says:
"The nicety and daintiness of workmanship, the
involute and nevertheless firmly-completed and
manifested imagery of ' Nosce Teipsum ' where-
with this nicety and daintiness are wrought, place
Sir John Davies artistically among the finest of
our Poets." 1 And again : " ' Nosce Teipsum ' as
it was practically the earliest so it remains the
most remarkable example of deep reflective-medi-
tative thinking in verse in our language or in any
language."2

Henry Morley, also, joins with the critics in
praise of Nosce Teipsum. He says : " Its stanzas
of elegiac verse were so well packed with thought,
always neatly contained within the limit of each
stanza, that we shall afterwards have to trace back
to this poem the adoption of its measure as, for a
time, our 'heroic stanza.'"3

Of similar character is the judgment of J. W.
Hales: "In the kingdom of poetry, as has been
said, are many mansions, and undoubtedly one
of these belongs to Sir John Davies, however

1 "The Complete Poems of Sir John Davies." London, 1876,
Vol. L, Mem. Int. p. Ixxxiii.

2 Ibid., p. Ix.

3 " A First Sketch of English Literature." London, 1886,
P- 459-

1 6 Philosophy in Poetry

we may describe it, however we may censure its
style and arrangement. Far be from us any such
critical or scholastic formulae as would prevent us
from all due appreciation of such refined, imagi-
native thought and subtle, finished workmanship,
as mark the first notable philosophical poem of
our literature."1

Edmund Gosse also accords our author high
praise. He says : " Sir John Davies, whose philo-
sophical poems were among the most original
and beautiful literary productions of the close of
Elizabeth's reign, was suddenly silenced by the
admiration James I. conceived for his judgment
in practical affairs, and was henceforth wholly ab-
sorbed in politics. But an examination of Davies'
work, had we space for it here, would form no
ill preparation for the study of several classes of
Jacobean poetry. He was eminently a writer be-
fore his time. His extremely ingenious Orchestra,
a poem on dancing, has much in it that suggests
the Fletchers on one side and Donne on the other,
while his more celebrated magnum opus of the
Nosce Teipsum is the general precursor of all the
school of metaphysical ingenuity and argumen-
tative imagination." 2

1 " Folia Litteraria," p. 163.

2 " The Jacobean Poets." London, 1894, ch. i. pp. 8-9.

Introduction 77

The number of these favorable critical estimates
might easily be increased, but those given are
enough, and sufficiently representative, to show
that Davies is regarded by competent critical
thought, not only as an artistic poet, but as one
of the foremost writers of philosophy in verse in
English poetry. This is no small merit, when we
remember how largely poetry is dependent upon
philosophy for her inspiration and content. It
has been shown, by an appeal to the history of
poetry, that the greatest poets have been those who
have drunk from the cup of Philosophy. To think
clearly on philosophical themes, and to present
one's thinking in remarkably perfected verse, is a
distinction that any poet might well covet. In
the judgment of the critics this is a distinction
which Davies undoubtedly possesses. In an elab-
orate poem, without diffuseness of thought or
language, he proceeds carefully as a thinker and
an artist, or rather as an artist-thinker, to work
out a solution of some of the profoundest prob-
lems that can engage the human mind, and to
present, in genuinely artistic form, not only the
solution itself, but also the patient steps by which
it was attained. A poet who undertakes con-
scientiously such a piece of work, and who sue-

i8 Philosophy in Poetry

cessfully accomplishes it, deserves well of every
student of literature and philosophy.

But, in the second place, Davies is by no means
unworthy of notice as a philosophic thinker. He
was possessed of the spirit of the true philoso-
pher— of an earnest love for, and desire to know,
the truth. In his reasoning he is candid, and, for
the most part, free from dogmatism — especially
when viewed from the standpoint of the spirit of
his age. He stands ready all through the poem
to give a reason for the faith within him. He
does not underestimate the force of opposing
views, nor attempt to evade them. He meets
his antagonist fairly — whether he be sensational-
ist, materialist, sceptic, or Christian philosopher.
He does not proclaim merely, but philosophizes.
Furthermore, he reveals a strong grasp of the
problems of philosophy. This is not the case
with many of the philosophic poets, and there
is often a deficiency in this respect among phi-
losophers themselves. Davies, throughout Nosce
Teipstim, seems to apprehend the essential nature
of the problems with which he deals. And to this,
as much as to anything, do we owe that clear-
ness— that perspicacity — which his critics praise
so much. This is all the more evident, when we

Introduction 79

note that he makes himself clearly understood in
verse — which does not lend itself so easily to
philosophical expression as prose. And it is still
more evident in view of the fact that he deals
with an exceedingly difficult stanza.

But after we have said all this, the real value
of his work as a philosopher lies in its historical
significance. Dr. Porter has truly stated what this
historical significance is. " It gives," he says, " a
transcript of that better scholastic doctrine of the
soul which combines the teachings of both Aris-
totle and Plato, when purified from many of the
extreme subtilities ingrafted upon them by the
doctors of the schools, and adds the results of
the dawning good sense which attended the Ref-
ormation and the Revival of Classical Learning.
For the history of philosophy it is of great sig-
nificance, as it enables the student to understand
the psychology and philosophy which were cur-
rent before the introduction of the philosophies
of Descartes on the one hand and of Hobbes and
Locke on the other." x

In somewhat similar vein Professor Morris re-
marks : " With considerable appositeness of argu-

1 Ueberweg, " History of Philosophy," trans, by G. S. Morris.
New York, 1873, Vol. II., Appendix, pp. 352-353.

20 Philosophy in Poetry

ment, and clearness of exposition, Sir John Davies
sets forth his thoroughly spiritualistic psychology,
and develops numerous considerations tending to
establish the doctrine of the soul's immortality,
all founded on the best philosophy the world had
produced, and pervaded by an obvious breath
of sincere and independent conviction. . . . The
poem may stand as a document to prove what
was the thoughtful faith of the best type of Eng-
lish gentlemen in his day."1

The historical significance of the poem as thus
stated is not unimportant to the student of the
history of psychology and philosophy. Works
on the history of philosophy are not rich in
materials to represent the period marking the
transition from scholasticism to the birth of mod-
ern philosophy. So that any work, like Davies's
Nosce Teipsum, which throws light on the best
thought of this period, is of value to the student.

The work of a man, then, who is thus highly
estimated as a poet and poet-philosopher by com-
petent critics, and whose historical significance for
students of psychology and philosophy is of such
importance, is certainly worthy of careful study.
And, as we note the progress of psychology and

1 " British Thought and Thinkers." Chicago, 1880, pp. 67-68.

Introduction 21

philosophy since the poet's day, to the rewards of
such a study will be added the additional recom-
pense of which Goethe speaks in the following
lines : —

" A great delight is granted
When, in the spirit of the ages planted,
We mark how, ere our time, a sage has thought,
And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought.'*

Faust, Scene I. — Bayard Taylor's Translation.

CHAPTER I

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. — RELATION TO THE
AGE AND TO PRECEDING THOUGHT

T T 7E can gain a clearer insight into Davies's
philosophical poem by making a brief
study of his life, and an inquiry into his relation
to his age. His indebtedness to predecessors
must also be considered.

Sir John Davies, poet, poet-philosopher, lawyer,
and statesman, was born in Tisbury, Wiltshire,
England, in 1569. He was the son of John Davies,
of Chisgrove, also a lawyer, and country gentleman.
His mother, Mary Bennett, was a member of a
distinguished family. Davies " became a com-
moner of Queen's coll. about the beginning of
Mich, term in the fifteenth year of his age, an.
1585, wherein having laid a considerable founda-
tion of academical literature, partly by his own
natural parts (which were excellent) and partly
by the help of a good tutor, he was removed (hav-
ing taken a degree in arts, as it seems) to the

Biographical Sketch 23

Middle-Temple, wherein applying himself to the
study of the common-law, tho' he had no great
geny to it, was in fine (July 1595,) made a bar-
rester." * There are evidences that, although Da-
vies was an earnest student, he was nevertheless
given to indulgence in the youthful extravagances
more or less characteristic of the times. He asso-
ciated with the wits and poets of the period, and
the character of the epigrams penned by him at
this time indicate that the moral tone of society
was not very high. He was admitted to the bar,
as has already been stated, in 1595. Two years
earlier, his celebrated poem entitled Orchestra,
or a Poeme of Daunting, " was licensed to John
Harison," although it seems not to have been pub-
lished before 1596. This poem was dedicated to

i

one Richard Martin, afterward Recorder of Lon-
don, and a very dear friend of Davies. This fact
is interesting in the light of subsequent events.
Later a quarrel occurred between the two friends,
the consequences of which completely changed
the tenor of the poet's life. For some reason
Davies took offence at Martin, who is represented
as a man " fast of tongue and ribald of wit, with a

1 Anthony-a-Wood, "Athenae Oxonienses." London, 1815,
Vol. II. p. 400.

24 Philosophy in Poetry

dash of provocative sarcasm." a Davies resented
the offence by cudgelling him severely while dining
at the barrister's table in the Middle Temple. On
account of this assault he was expelled from the
Bar.2 His disbarment, however, was not, in the
end, a misfortune to him or to the world. It, so
to speak, brought him to himself. Having been
thus humiliated, he returned to Oxford and re-
sumed his studies. It proved to be a year of re-
pentance and soul-searching — a year of serious
study and reflection — which resulted in a complete
reformation of life. To this Davies himself testi-
fies in the following words descriptive of his own
experience : —

" Yet if Affliction once her warres begin,

And threat the feebler Sense with sword and fire ;
The Minde contracts her selfe and shrinketh in,
And to her selfe she gladly doth retire :

" As Spiders toucht, seek their webs inmost part ;
As bees in stormes vnto their hiues returne ;
As bloud in danger gathers to the heart;
As men seek towns, when foes the country burn.

" If ought can teach vs ought, Afflictions lookes,
(Making vs looke into our selues so neere,)
Teach vs to know our selues beyond all bookes,
Or all the learned Schooles that euer were.

1 Grosart, op. cit., Mem. Int. p. xxii.

a For full account of the affair see Stowell, " Archaeologia,"
Vol. XXI.

Biographical Sketch 25

*' This mistresse lately pluckt me by the eare,
And many a golden lesson hath me taught ;
Hath made my Senses quicke, and Reason cleare,
Reformed my Will and rectifide my Thought.

" So doe the winds and thunders cleanse the ayre ;
So working lees settle and purge the wine ;
So lop't and pruned trees doe flourish faire ;
So doth the fire the drossie gold refine.

" Neither Minerua nor the learned Muse,

Nor rules of Art, nor precepts of the wise ;
Could in my braine those beames of skill infuse,
As but the glance of this Dame's angry eyes.

" She within lists my ranging minde hath brought,
That now beyond my selfe I list not goe ;
My selfe am center of my circling thought,
Onely my selfe I studie, learne, and know."

But a moral reformation of Davies was not the
only outcome of this humiliation, with its conse-
quent isolation and reflection. His self-contempla-
tion led to a serious study of the reality, nature,
origin, powers, dignity, and destiny of the human
soul, and the uses to which such a spiritual being
should be put; and to the embodiment of his re-
flections and conclusions in an elaborate poem
entitled Nosce Teipsum. In other words, Nosce
Teipsum — which is a philosophy of mind in verse
— was the fruit of his humiliation and repentance.

26 Philosophy in Poetry

It is quite remarkable that a poem, representing
so much literary merit, and requiring so much
serious and sustained reflection, should have been
produced in less than a year, especially when it is
remembered that much of Davies's time was de-
voted to the earnest pursuit of his studies. By the
persuasion, and through the kind offices, of Lord
Mountjoy, the poem was dedicated to Queen Eliza-
beth,1 who was so greatly pleased with it that she
made him her servant in ordinary, and gave him
promises of promotion. Of course, regardless of
the merits of the poem, the aged queen could not
have been altogether indifferent to the graceful
and flattering words of the dedicatory poem : —

" To that cleere maiestie which in the North
Doth, like another Sunne in glory rise ;
Which standeth fixt, yet spreads her heauenly worth ;
Loadstone to hearts, and loadstarre to all eyes.

" Like Heau'n in all ; like th' Earth in this alone,

That though great States by her support doe stand,
Yet she herselfe supported is of none,
But by the finger of the Almightie's hand :

1 A MS. copy of the poem, dedicated to Ed. Cooke, Esq., a
friend of Davies, is preserved in Holkham Hall. Another MS.
copy was dedicated to the Earl of Northumberland. Cf. " Dic-
tionary of National Biography," Vol. XIV. p. 141.

Biographical Sketch 27

" To the diuinest and the richest minde,

•

Both by Art's purchase and by Nature's dowre,
That euer was from Heau'n to Earth confin'd,
To shew the vtmost of a creature's power :

" To that great Spirit, which doth great kingdomes mooue,
The sacred spring whence right and honor streames,
Distilling Vertue, shedding Peace and Loue,
In euery place, as Cynthia sheds her beames :

" I offer up some sparkles of that fire, ,

Whereby wee reason, Hue, and moue, and be;
These sparkes by nature euermore aspire,
Which makes them to so high an highnesse flee.

" Faire Soule, since to the fairest body knit,

You giue such liuely life, such quickning power,

Such sweet celestiall influences to it,

As keepes it still in youth's immortall flower :

" (As where the sunne is present all the yeere,
And neuer doth retire his golden ray,
Needs must the Spring bee euerlasting there,
And euery season like the month of May.)

" O ! many, many yeeres may you remaine,
A happy angell to this happy Land ;
Long, long may you on Earth our empresse raigne,
Ere you in Heauen a glorious angell stand.

" Stay long (sweet spirit) ere thou to Heauen depart,

Which mak'st each place a heauen wherein thou art."

28 Philosophy in Poetry

Nosce Teipsum, more than any other poem of
its author, made a reputation for Davies. The
same year of its publication came the Hymnes of
Astrcea — a series of hymns or short poems to
Queen Elizabeth. There are twenty-six, flattering
and fulsome, ascribing to her almost every human
virtue. There is a hymn to her picture ; one tell-
ing of her mind ; others treating respectively " Of
the Sun-beames of her Mind," " Of her Wit,"
" Of her Will," " Of her Memorie," " Of her Phan-
tasie," " Of the Organs of her Minde," " Of the
Passions of her Heart," " Of the Innumerable Ver-
tues of her Minde," " Of her Wisdome," " Of her
Justice," "Of her Magnanimitie," and " Of her
Moderation."

Davies was now conspicuous in the public eye.
He was on the high road to preferment. Other
poets recognized his merit. He contributed
Minor Poems to Davison's Poetical Rhapsody.
Through the intercession of Lord Ellesmere,
Keeper of the Great Seal, he was re-admitted to
the Bar, having made the proper apologies. His
apology to Martin led, at least, to a formal recon-
ciliation of the former friends.1 In 1601 he was
made a member of Parliament for Corfe Castle.
1 Cf. Grosart, op. cit., Mem. Int. pp. xxx-xxxi.

Biographical Sketch 29

Martin was also in Parliament at this time. Davies
was appointed a member of the " Grand Commit-
tee " to thank Queen Elizabeth for the withdrawal
of certain patents which had led to great abuses.
A new and corrected edition of Nosce Teipsum was
issued in 1602. After the death of Queen Eliza-
beth in 1603, "he, with the Lord Hunsdon, went
into Scotland to congratulate K. James as her
lawful successor; and being introduced into his
presence, the king enquired the names of those
gentlemen who were in the company of the said
lord, and he naming John Davies among, who
stood behind, them, the king straitway asked,
whether he was Nosce Teipsum f and being an-
swered that he was the same, he graciously em-
braced him, and thenceforth had so great a favour
for him, that soon after [in 1603,] he made him his
solicitor, and then his attorney-general in Ireland." 1
He distinguished himself in the important and diffi-
cult office of Solicitor General. His latest biogra-
pher gives him almost unmeasured praise for his
work in behalf of Ireland and the Government.2
In 1606 he was made Attorney General for Ireland.
He was also appointed Sergeant-at-Arms. Davies

1 Anthony-a-Wood, op. cit, Vol. II. p. 401.

2 Grosart, op. cit., Mem. Int. pp. xxxv-xxxvii.

30 Philosophy in Poetry

showed exceptional fitness for his work, and his
state papers evince a high order of legal ability
and statesmanship. In 1607 he was knighted.

During his career in Ireland he was married to
Eleanor, youngest daughter of George, Lord Aud-
ley. She was a singular woman, given to strange
prophecies and superstitions. " What she usually
predicted," says Wood, " she folded up for the most
part in dark expressions, received from a voice,
which she frequently heard, as she used to tell her
daughter Lucy, and the others." J She wrote The
Stay of the Wise, The Restitution of the Reprobates,
The Bride's Preparation, and Tobifs Book. Two
children were born of the marriage. One, an
idiotic son, died in his youth. The other, Lucy
by name, grew up an exceedingly clever woman.
She married Ferdinand, Lord Hastings, later Earl
of Huntingdon.

To return to Davies, we find that he performed
his official duties in Ireland with exceptional thor-
oughness and ability. He made a careful study
of the "Irish question," and in 1612 was pub-
lished his admirable book, A Discoverie of the
Trve Cavses why Ireland was neuer entirely Sub-
dued . . . vntill the Beginning of his Maiesties

1 Op. cit., p. 404.

Biographical Sketch 31

happie Raigne. This same year saw him made
King's Sergeant. He was also elected a Member
of Parliament for Fermanagh, and later was chosen
Speaker of the House. In 1614 he served as
Member of Parliament for Newcastle-under-Lyne.
Later, in 1619, he moved to England, continuing
to represent Newcastle-under-Lyne in the House,
and also serving in the capacity of Judge of
Assize.1 In 1622 he published for the first time
a volume of his collected poems.2 In 1626 he re-
ceived the exalted honor of an appointment to the
Lord Chief Justiceship. Unfortunately he did not
live long enough to enter upon the duties of his
office. On December 8 of the same year he died
— it was supposed, according to Wood, of apo-
plexy. He was buried in St. Martin's Church,
London. Shortly after, an elaborate inscription
in Latin was placed on a pillar near his grave.
Grosart's translation of this inscription, so far as it
relates to his character and accomplishments, is as
follows: "To God the Best and Greatest: Sacred.
John Davys of knightly rank, having formerly
discharged with prudence the highest duties of
King's Attorney General in the realm of Ireland :

1 Grosart, op. cit, Mem. Int. p. xliii-xlvii.

2 For a list of Davies's prose works cf. Wood, op. cit., Vol. II. pp.
402-403. Consult also Grosart's ed. of his collected prose works.

J2 Philosophy in Poetry

thence having been recalled to his own country,
secured the first place among the servants of his
lord the King, at the Law. After various services
nobly rendered in each office, being now nom-
inated to more distinguished (appointments) he
suddenly frustrated the hope of his friends but
fulfilled his own — being called away from human
honours to celestial glory, in the year of his age
57. A man for accomplished genius, for un-
common eloquence, for language whether free or
bound in verse, most happy. Judicial sternness
with elegance of manners and more pleasant
learning he tempered. An uncorrupt Judge, a
faithful Patron. For love of free-born piety and
contempt for fretting superstition alike remark-
able. He looked down from on high on the
obstinate narrowness of plebeian souls in the
matter of religion, pity softening his disdain.
Himself magnanimously just, religious, free, and
moved by heaven." J

Davies, of course, like every writer, was affected
by the spirit of the age. The spirit of the Eliz-
abethan age has been so frequently portrayed,
and at such great length, in other works, as to
make an extended description here unnecessary.
1 Op. cit, Mem. Int. pp. liv-lv.

Biographical Sketch 33

A brief reference to it for purposes of under-
standing in what manner Davies in writing Nosce
Teipsum was affected by it is all that is required.
The first results of the Revival of Letters were
experienced by England in the latter part of the
fifteenth and the first part of the sixteenth centu-
ries. Probably the best results in the sixteenth
century were reached during the reign of Henry
VIIL But throughout the reign of Elizabeth
there was considerable interest manifested in clas-
sical literature. Professor Craik, in a chapter on
" Classical Learning," x speaking of the sixteenth
century, says: "The whole of the sixteenth
century, however, will deserve the epithet of a
learned age, notwithstanding the state of the
schools and universities, and of what are called
the learned professions, if we look either to the
names of eminent scholars by which every por-
tion of it is adorned, or to the extent to which
the study of the learned languages then entered
into the education of all persons, women as well
as men, who were considered to be well edu-
cated." ..." The number of very great English
scholars, however, in the reign of Elizabeth was
not so considerable as in that of her father, when

1 Op. cit, Vol. I. p. 416 sq.
3

34 Philosophy in Poetry

classical studies were not only cultivated with per-
haps a truer appreciation of the highest models,
but afforded, besides, almost the only field for
intellectual exercise and display. Still this kind
of learning continued to be fashionable; and a
familiar, if not a profound, acquaintance with both
the Latin and the Greek languages was diffused
to an unusual extent among persons of the high-
est rank." J Elizabeth herself was a good Greek
scholar, and translated Isocrates. Ascham, in
the Schoolmaster, speaks well of her knowledge
of Latin. She translated a portion of Seneca's
Hercules CEtceus. The members of her court
were also interested in the classics. Warton,
speaking of Elizabeth's reign, says : " It became
fashionable in this reign to study Greek at court.
The maids of honour indulged their ideas of sen-
timental affection in the sublime contemplation of
Plato's Phaedo: and the queen, who understood
Greek better than the canons of Windsor, and
was certainly a much greater pedant than her
successor James the First, translated Isocrates."2
Davies was undoubtedly affected by the literary

1 Op. cit., Vol. I. pp. 428-429.

2 " The History of English Poetry," etc. London, 1840, Vol.

III. p. 20.

Biographical Sketch 35

spirit of the age. Classical training and learning
figured in his education. Like other poets of the
Elizabethan period, he reveals in his poetry a
familiarity with Latin and Greek authors. There
are numerous allusions to classical mythology in
his writings. Not a few of these are to be found
in Nosce Teipsum. They also indicate some
knowledge of classical history. The acquaint-
ance of our poet with classical literature nat-
urally raises the question whether, since Nosce
Teipsum is really the first formally developed
system of philosophy in English poetry, its au-
thor found a model among the Greek or Latin
poets. It has been suggested that he found such
a model in the De Rerum Nattira of Lucretius.
However, there does not seem to be any substan-
tial evidence for such a suggestion. External
evidence on this point would only indicate a pos-
sibility of a knowledge of Lucretius as a result of
Davies's interest in philosophy and classical lit-
erature. But internal evidence certainly does not
indicate that the poem of Lucretius was the model
for Nosce Teipsum. The two poems are alto-
gether unlike, both in form and content. So
far as form is concerned, their metrical frame-
work is entirely different. So far as content is

)6 Philosophy in Poetry

concerned, they differ radically. The work of
Lucretius is much more comprehensive than is
the work of Davies. The former is a philosophy
of all reality — of things as well as of minds ; the
latter is merely a philosophy of mind. The
former is a materialistic philosophy; the latter
is a spiritualistic philosophy. Furthermore, the
materialism which Davies refutes in Nosce Teip-
sum, which regards the soul as corporeal, is not
peculiar to Lucretius, but is common to De-
mocritus, the Stoics, and Epicureans as well.
Again, in Davies's elaborate consideration of the
objections to the immortality of the soul, he does
not consider any of the many objections urged
by Lucretius1 against the belief. Even the idea
of writing a philosophical poem does not seem
to have been suggested by the work of Lucretius.
The most natural explanation of the origin of
Nosce Teipsum is the one already hinted at in
the account given in the biographical sketch.
Davies's disbarment, with the humiliation and
disgrace involved, led him to betake himself to
serious introspection and reflection. He him-
self tells us what the results of his "affliction"
were : —

i "De Rerum Natura," Lib. III.

Biographical Sketch 57

" If ought can teach -vs ought, Afflictions lookes,
(Making vs looke into our selues so neere,)
Teach vs to know our selues beyond all bookes,
Or all the learned Schooles that euer were.

" This mistresse lately pluckt me by the eare,
And many a golden lesson hath me taught ;
Hath made my Senses quicke, and Reason cleare,
Reform'd my Will and rectifide my Thought.

" She within lists my ranging minde hath brought,
That now beyond my selfe I list not goe ;
My selfe am center of my circling thought,
Onely my selfe I studie, learne, and know."

The conclusions born of such a soul-study Davies
desired to communicate to others; and, being a
poet, what more natural than that he should
choose verse as the means of communication?
The result was, a philosophical poem — Nosce
Teipsum.

But what of Davies's relation to the spirit of his
age so far as the philosophy and theology of his
poem are concerned? To what extent was he
influenced in his thinking by the philosophical and
theological thought of his time? This question
can best be answered in connection with a more
general question ; namely, What are the chief
sources of Davies's philosophical indebtedness?
Philosophical thinkers generally are influenced by

$8 Philosophy in Poetry

their speculative environment and by preceding
speculative thought Davies is no exception to
the rule. It is rather difficult to determine by
specific external evidence to whom he is specially
indebted. Internal evidence, however, seems to
point to the influence of four thinkers, — Aristotle,
Cicero, Nemesius, and Calvin.

In the first place, a careful comparison of Davies's
poem with Aristotle's De Anima reveals Davies's
acquaintance with this celebrated work of the great
Greek philosopher. This is manifest in the simi-
larity of their teachings on fundamental points,
as, the reality of the soul, the nature of the soul,
the soul's relation to the body, the rational soul's
relation to sense, the powers of the soul, the activ-
ity of the soul, etc. These similarities of teaching
will be more specifically pointed out in the course
of our study, and they will be found sufficiently
striking to remove any scepticism concerning the
influence of the Stagyrite upon our poet's think-
ing. Of course external evidence would seem to
indicate this also. Aristotle was a power in Scho-
lastic thought, and the Renaissance and Protestant
Reformation only led to a more direct study of
his works. Despite the early antipathy of the
theologians of the Reformation to Aristotle (as

Biographical Sketch 39

for example Luther and Melancthon), later they
found it necessary to turn to him for aid in their
reconstruction of theology. But they turned to
the real Aristotle rather than to his Scholastic
interpreters. So that Aristotle was influential in
the speculative thought of the sixteenth century.
And it was quite natural that Davies should seek
help from this powerful mind in his study of the
human soul.

In the second place, internal evidence strongly
indicates the influence of Cicero upon the thinking
of Davies. This is manifest in his argument for
the reality of the soul; but more especially in his
argument for its immortality. The greater portion
of his reasoning on this subject is taken from
Cicero's Tusculan Disputations. The arguments
from universal assent, from contempt of death in
righteous souls, the fear of death in wicked souls,
the intimations of immortality manifest in the
desire for posthumous fame, and in the care for
posterity ; — all of this, as we shall see later by
careful comparison, is taken from the Roman
philosopher.

In the third place, internal evidence points more
or less conclusively to the influence of Nemesius
upon Davies. Nemesius was one of the early

40 Philosophy in Poetry

Christian Fathers and Bishop of one of the cities
in Phoenicia. He wrote a work in Greek on The
Nature of Man. This work was translated into
English by George Wither, the poet, and published
in London, 1636. In Nichols's Literary Illustra-
tions1 there is a letter written by one Alexander
Dalrymple to a Mr. Herbert in which, after stating
that he had recently purchased some old books,
he says : " I have also got ' Wither's translation
of Nemesius de Natura hominis' by which I
find Sir John Davies's poem on the Immortality
of the Soul is chiefly taken from Nemesius."
. . . " I have picked up a tract in 4to by Thomas
Jenner, with some very good plates, the marginal
notes of which seem to be what the heads of
Tate's edition of Sir John Davies's are taken
from." 2

To Dalrymple's accusation of plagiarism on the
part of Davies Grosart takes vigorous exception.
He says : " Were this true it would utterly take
from ' Nosce Teipsum ' the first characteristic and
merit I claim for it — deep and original thought.
But it is absolutely untrue, an utter delusion, as
any one will find who takes the pains that I have

1 Vol. IV. pp. 549-550.

2 Grosart, op. cit., Mem. Int. p. Ixi.

Biographical Sketch 41

done to read, either the original Nemesius, or what
this sapient book-buyer mentions, Wither's trans-
lation. With my mind and memory full of ' Nosce
Teipsum ' and the poem itself beside me, I have
read and re-read every page, sentence and word of
Nemesius and Wither (and there is a good deal of
Wither in his translation: 1636) and I have not
come upon a single metaphor or (as the old margin-
notes called them) ' similies,' or even observation
in ' Nosce Teipsum ' drawn from Nemesius or
Wither. The only element in common is that
necessarily Nemesius adduces and discusses the
opinions of the Heathen Philosophers on the many
matters handled by him, and Sir John Davies does
the same with equal inevitableness. But to base
a charge of plagiarism against ' Nosce Teipsum '
on this, is to reason on the connection between
Tenterden Steeple and Goodwin Sands (if the
well-worn folly be a permissible reference). . . .
Chronologically — Wither's translation was not
published until 1636, while 'Nosce Teipsum' was
published in 1599; but Nemesius' own book no
more than Wither's warrants any such preposterous
statements as this Alexander Dalrymple makes.
Even in the treatment of the ' opinions ' of the
Heathen Philosophers which come up in Nemesius,

42 Philosophy in Poetry

and in * Nosce Teipsum,' the latter while ' inter-
medling' with the same returns wholly distinct
answers in refutation. The ' opinions ' themselves
as being derived of necessity from the same
sources are identical ; but neither their statement
nor refutation. Nemesius is ingenious and well-
learned, but heavy and prosaic. Sir John Davies
is light of touch and a light of poetic glory lies on
the lamest * opinion.' The ' Father of the Church '
goes forth to war with encumbering armour : the
Poet naked and unarmed beyond the spear where-
with he ' pierces ' everything, viz. human conscious-
ness. Jenner's forgotten book had perhaps been
read by Tate, but that concerns Tate not Sir John
Davies. I pronounce it a hallucination to write
' Sir John Davies' poem on the immortality of the
Soul is chiefly taken from Nemesius.' Not one
line was taken from Nemesius." *

As the view of Davies's indebtedness to Ne-
mesius taken in this study differs materially from
the view of Grosart, it is only fair that his view
should be presented here in full. Immediately
following the words quoted above, he proceeds
with equal vigor and firmness of conviction as
before : —

1 Op. cit, Mem. Int. pp. Ixi-lxiii.

Biographical Sketch 43

" Before passing on it may be well to illustrate
here from the ' contents ' of two chapters (repre-
sentative of the whole) in Wither's Nemesius, the
merely superficial agreement between them and
' Nosce Teipsum.' In the Poem under 'The Soule
of Man and The Immortalitie thereof various
opinions of its ' nature ' are thus summarized :

* One thinks the Soule is aire; another, fire;
Another blood, diffus'd about the heart ;
Another saith, the elements conspire,
And to her essence each doth giue a part.

Musicians thinke our Soules are harmonies,
Phisicians hold that they complexions bee ;
Epicures make them swarmes of atomies,
Which doe by chance into our bodies flee.' (p. 26.)

In Nemesius, c. 2. § I, the ' headings ' are : ' I. The
severall and different Opinions of the Ancients con-
cerning the Sovl, as whether it be a Substance ;
whether corporeall, or incorporeall, whether mortal
or immortal. P. II. The confutation of those who
affirme in general that the Sovl is a corporeall-
substance. III. Confutations of their particular
Arguments, who affirme that the Sovl is Blood,
Water, or Aire.' These are all common-places of
ancient 'opinion' and of the subject; and anything
less poetical than Nemesius' treatment of them is

44 Philosophy in Poetry

scarcely imaginable. Here if anywhere Davies'
indebtedness must have been revealed; but not
one scintilla of obligation suggests itself to the
Reader. Again in the Poem, after a subtle and
very remarkable ' confutation ' of the notion that
the Soul is a thing of * Sense' only, there comes
proof 'That the Soule is more than the Tempera-
ture of the humours of the Body ' ; and nowhere
does Davies show a more cunning hand than in
his statement of the ' false opinion.' Turning once
more to Nemesius c. II. § 3, these are its ' head-
ings': — 'I. It is here declared, that the Soul is
not (as Galen implicitly affirmeth) a Temperature in
general. II. It is here proved also, that the Soul
is no particular temperature or quality. III. And
it is likewise demonstrated that the Soul is rather
governesse of the temperatures of the Body, both
ordering them, and subduing the vices which
arise from the bodily tempers.' Here again we
would have expected some resemblances or sug-
gestions ; but again there is not a jot or tittle of
either. Thus is it throughout. One might as well
turn up the words used in 'Nosce Teipsum' in a
quotation-illustrated Dictionary of the English Lan-
guage (such as Richardson's) and argue ' plagiar-
ism ' because of necessarily agreeing definitions,

Biographical Sketch 45

as from a few scattered places in ( Nosce Teipsum '
discussing the same topics, allege appropriation of
Nemesius. Your mere readers of title-pages and
contents, or glancers over indices are constantly
blundering after this fashion. Dalrymple was one
of these." x

Now, undoubtedly Dalrymple was in error in
accusing Davies of borrowing from Wither's trans-
lation of Nemesius's De Natura Hominis, for, as
Grosart points out, Nosce Teipsum was published
in 1599 and Wither's translation of Nemesius did
not appear in print until 1636. He was also in
error in making such a sweeping statement as " I
find Sir John Davies's poem on the Immortality
of the Soul is chiefly taken from Nemesius," for
the contents of the two volumes vary greatly. In
the first place, early in their works, both writers
treat of the Fall of Man, and they differ in their
conceptions of the consequences of the Fall.
Nemesius conceives of these as moral; whereas
Davies represents them as both moral and intellec-
tual. In the second place, in his refutation of Ma-
terialism, Davies to a certain extent moves along
lines of argument differing from those of Neme-
sius. In the third place, in their discussions of the
1 Op. cit., Mem. Int. pp. Ixiii-lxvL

46 Philosophy in Poetry

reality of the soul, Davies presents an elaborate
refutation of Sensationalism, whereas Nemesius
is silent on this formidable theory. In the fourth
place, Davies treats the question of the mode of
the Soul's origin in relation to the body much
more elaborately and after a different fashion than
does Nemesius. They differ also in their conclu-
sions on this question. Davies is a Creationist,
whereas Nemesius believes in the doctrine of pre-
existence. In the fifth place, there is a noticeable
difference in their psychological analysis — in their
analysis and division of mental powers or " facul-
ties." Davies presents a different classification,
and enumerates more " faculties " than does Ne-
mesius. In the sixth place, there is a difference in
their treatment of the subject of the soul's immor-
tality. The treatment of Nemesius, for a work of
such a character, is lamentably and inexcusably
meagre ; whereas Davies presents an elaborate dis-
cussion, involving numerous arguments for belief
in immortality, also objections and replies, as well
as misgivings and answers. In all of these funda-
mental, as well as in many minor respects, the two
works differ so materially that an accusation of
plagiarism is utterly unjust. Furthermore, Davies
reveals such great obligations to other thinkers as

Biographical Sketch 47

to make an accusation of wholesale plagiarism from
Nemesius, such as Dalrymple makes, absurd.

But while this may be said without fear of suc-
cessful contradiction, a careful comparison of Da-
vies's Nosce Teipsnm with Nemesius's De Natura
Hominis makes it impossible to agree with Gro-
sart, that " Not one line was taken from Nemesius " ;
that " not one scintilla of obligation suggests it-
self to the Reader " ; and that, with regard to " re-
semblances and suggestions," "there is not a jot or
tittle of either." On the contrary, there are " re-
semblances and suggestions " of such a striking
character as to indicate beyond reasonable doubt,
that Davies was familiar with the Church Father's
work, and was influenced by it to a considerable ex-
tent These "resemblances and suggestions" will
appear in our further study. They can hardly be
accounted for on grounds of coincidence, or of
dealing with the same question. They indicate
rather, that Davies, like every intelligent author,
in treating his subject, inquired into what his pred-
ecessors had said on the same subject; and that,
in so doing, he found himself in accord with some
of their views, and received valuable suggestions
from them in forming still other views. They
indicate, further, that Nemesius was one of the

48 Philosophy in Poetry

predecessors whom Davies had consulted with
advantage.

Another thinker to whom our poet was indebted
is Calvin. This is manifest in the more specifi-
cally theological portions of Nosce Teipstim, as in
the discussion of the Fall of man in the first part
of the poem; and the problem of original sin, in
the second part. It was quite natural that, in seek-
ing help on such subjects, he should turn to the
works of a theologian whose influence was domi-
nant in the Protestant theology of his country. A
comparison of the theological portions of Nosce
Teipsum with Calvin's Institutes of the Christian
Religion, which will be made in the course of our
interpretation of the poem, will indicate the extent
of Davies's obligation to the Genevan theologian.

But although Davies was greatly indebted to
these thinkers — Aristotle, Cicero, Nemesius, and
Calvin — he reveals such a thorough grip on the
problems of the philosophy of mind, and such a
unique and clever way of dealing with them, as to
make his philosophy and his philosophical poetry
in a true sense his own.

CHAPTER II
OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE

TTAVING thus briefly studied the history of
Davies and the sources of influence upon his
thinking, let us next turn to a consideration of his
philosophical poem. As has been suggested al-
ready, his most elaborate and important poem is
Nosce Teipstim. This work is a unique produc-
tion, presenting as it does, in a formal manner,
a complete rational psychology or philosophy of
mind in verse. It is, therefore, pre-eminently a
didactic poem — the aim being to present syste-
matically the author's speculations on the pro-
found problems of the reality, nature, powers, and
destiny of mind. The thought is not so much a
means to an end as is the poetry. Poetry is used
in the service of philosophy more than philosophy
is used in the service of poetry. Light is to be
thrown on great and vital problems, and poetry
is used as the conduit of light.

4

50 Philosophy in Poetry

The poem is divided into two parts — the first,
dealing with human knowledge ; the second, with
the reality, nature, origin, powers, and immortality
of the human soul. The first part serves as an
introduction to the second. In it the poet
takes an exceedingly discouraging view of human
knowledge and of the mind's capacity to know.
Knowledge is mixed with error and man's reason
is dark. This fact admits of explanation. It was
not always so. Once man possessed a God-in-
fused knowledge, surpassing anything he has since
acquired. Once Reason's eye was " sharpe and
cleere," capable of approaching very near to the
" Eternal Light." Thus it was in man's paradisia-
cal state. This was his intellectual status before
the Fall. But the " Spirit of Lyes " suggested
that he was blind because he knew not evil. The
Devil could not show evil in the works of God
while man stood in his perfection. If man was
to know evil he must first do evil. This he did,
and the result was fatal. Man "made Reason-
blind " " to give Passion eyes." Through these
eyes he first saw the foul forms of misery and woe,
of nakedness and shame. Reason grew dark and
could no longer discern the fair forms of Good
and Truth. An impaired intellectual and moral

Of Human Knowledge . 57

vision was the outcome of man's fatal desire to
know : —

" Battes they became, that eagles were before :
And this they ^ot by their desire to learned

And we are no better than they. We continue
to eat of the forbidden fruit. We continue to
indulge a desire to learn. We turn with vain
curiosity to find hidden knowledge in " bookes
prophane." And what, indeed, is this knowledge
we seek? It is a poor, vain, empty affair. What

is it —

" but the sky-stolne fire,

For which the thiefe still chain'd in ice doth sit?
And which the poore rude Satyre did admire,
And needs would kisse but burnt his lips with it.

" What is it ? but the cloud of emptie raine,

Which when loue's guest imbrac't, hee monsters got ?
Or the false payles which oft being fild with paine,
Receiv'd the water, but retain'd it not !

" Shortly, what is it but the firie coach

Which the Youth sought, and sought his death withal ?
Or the boye's wings, which when he did approch
The sunnis hot beames, did melt and let him fall ? "

Thus fruitless is our search for knowledge. After
perusing " all the learned Volumes," what can we
know or discern —

" When Error chokes the windowes of the minde ? '*

52 Philosophy in Poetry

What can we know when Reason's lamp which,
before man's Fall, shone throughout his small
world, like the sun in the sky, has become merely
a half-extinct sparkle under ashes ! How, under
such conditions, .can we recall the knowledge
which was man's original possession by grace?
A man painfully earning " a groate a day," might
as well hope to replace the large patrimony wasted
by a profligate father. The utter vanity of human
efforts after knowledge is affirmed by those who
have most profoundly considered man's capacity
to know. They have found that with us —

" Skill comes so slow, and life so fast doth flie,
We learne so little and forget so much."

It was for this reason that the Greek philosopher
said, —

" * He knew nought, but that he nought did know.' "

And there was no mocking when " the great
mocking-Master " said that " ' Truth was buried
deepe below' " Furthermore, how can we expect
to know things, when no one understands himself
— his own soul? Why should we accept the
judgments of the soul concerning things, when it
is unable to give a judgment concerning itself —
as to the how, whence, where, and what of its own

Of Human Knowledge 53

existence? We seek to know all things without,
but are strangers to that within which constitutes
our real self. Why is this so? Is it because the
mind is like the eye, which fails to see itself in
seeing other things? No! For the mind, while
being the knowing subject, can also be the object
of its own knowledge. The real trouble lies in
the corruption of the mind. " She is so corrupt,
and so defac't," that she becomes frightened at
her own image. Just as the fair lady in the fable,
who was transformed into a cow because of her
lust, became startled and fled in terror on behold-
ing her changed self reflected in the stream, loath-
ing " the watry glasse wherein she gaz'd," so it
is with man's soul. Once she bore the image of
God, being fair, and good, and pure. Now her
beauties are marred by sin, and she —

** Doth of all sights her owne sight least endure."

This unsightliness of the soul leads her to turn
away from herself, to seek delight in other things.
And the prospect of external things is so inviting,
so fair and agreeable, so sweet and alluring, that
the mind succeeds in completely escaping from
herself: -

" These things transport, and carry out the mind,
That with her selfe her selfe can neuer meet."

54 Philosophy in Poetry

There is one thing, however, which brings the
soul back to herself. It is affliction. Just as
spiders seek the inmost part of their webs when
touched ; and bees return to their hives in case
of storm; and the blood gathers to the heart
when danger appears; and men seek the towns
when foes burn the country, — so the mind leaves
the things which are without, and returns to her-
self within, when affliction's wars begin. These
menacings of affliction, which drive the mind back
to herself, —

" Teach vs to know our selues beyond all bookes,
Or all the learned Schooles that euer were."

Our poet, referring doubtless to the disgrace in-
cident upon his quarrel with Martin, and his con-
sequent disbarment, his self-isolation and reflection,
informs us, that of late affliction had visited him
and had taught him " many a golden lesson." It
had quickened his senses, cleared his reason, re-
formed his will, and rectified his thought. It gave
boundaries to his mind, so that it no longer ranged
beyond itself: —

" My selfe am center of my circling thought,
Only my selfe I studie, learne, and know."

The results of this introspection and reflection
are presented in the second part of the poem,

Of Human Knowledge 55

entitled, Of the Soule of Man and the Immortalite
thereof.

Before entering upon a study of this second part
of the poem it may be well to observe that the
theory of knowledge contained in the poet's Intro-
duction is not peculiar to Davies. In teaching an
intellectual as well as a moral Fall of man he was
simply expressing a view which was in accord with
the prevalent Protestant theology of his time. It
is the view of the Fall taught by Calvin in the
Institutes of the Christian Religion, and attributed
by him to Augustine. In his celebrated work
just mentioned Calvin says : " I feel pleased with
the well-known saying which has been borrowed
from the writings of Augustine, that man's natural
gifts were corrupted by sin, and his supernatural
gifts withdrawn ; meaning by supernatural gifts
the light of faith and righteousness, which would
have been sufficient for the attainment of heavenly
life and everlasting felicity. Man, when he with-
drew his allegiance to God, was deprived of the
spiritual gifts by which he had been raised to the
hope of eternal salvation. Hence it follows, that
he is now an exile from the kingdom of God, so
that all things which pertain to the blessed life of

56 Philosophy in Poetry

the soul are extinguished in him until he recover
them by the grace of regeneration. Among these
are faith, love to God, charity towards our neigh-
bour, the study of righteousness and holiness. All
these, when restored to us by Christ, are to be
regarded as adventitious and above nature. If so,
we infer that they were previously abolished. On
the other hand, soundness of mind and integrity
of heart were, at the same time, withdrawn, and it
is this which constitutes the corruption of natural
gifts. For although there is still some residue of
intelligence and judgment as well as will, we can-
not call a mind sound and entire which is both
weak and immersed in darkness. As to the will,
its depravity is but too well known. Therefore,
since reason, by which man discerns between good
and evil, and by which he understands and judges,
is a natural gift, it could not be entirely destroyed ;
but being partly weakened and partly corrupted,
a shapeless ruin is all that remains. In this sense
it is said, (John i. 5), that 'the light shineth in
darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not ' ;
these words clearly expressing both points, viz.,
that in the perverted and degenerate nature of
man there are still some sparks which show that
he is a rational animal, and differs from the brutes,

Of Human Knowledge 57

inasmuch as he is endued with intelligence, and
yet, that this light is so smothered by clouds of
darkness that it cannot shine forth to any good
effect. In like manner, the will, because insepa-
rable from the nature of man, did not perish,
but was so enslaved by depraved lusts as to be
incapable of one righteous desire." *

The cumulative evidence of Davies's indebted-
ness to Calvin is such that it seems probable that
he derived his conception of an intellectual Fall
(which, as an explicit doctrine, is by no means
common in Christian Theology) from him. Both
thinkers are in agreement in regard to man's moral
and intellectual status before the Fall. Man was
then morally pure, and possessed of great intel-
lectual strength. Of man's mental power prior
to the Fall Calvin says : " Man excelled in these
noble endowments in his primitive condition, when
reason, intelligence, prudence, and judgment, not
only sufficed for the government of his earthly
life, but also enabled him to rise up to God and
eternal happiness."2

To the same effect, and in similar language,

1 "Institutes of the Christian Religion," trans, by Henry
Beveridge. Edinburgh, 1845, Vol. I. Bk. II. ch. ii. sec. 12. All
quotations from Calvin are from Beveridge's translation.

2 Op. cit., Vol. I. Bk. I. ch. xv. sec. 8.

5# Philosophy in Poetry

Davies describes the intellectual power of man
before the Fall : —

" And when their reason's eye was sharpe and cleere,
And (as an eagle can behold the sunne)
Could haue approcht th' Eternall Light as neere,
As the intellectuall angels could haue done," etc.

Furthermore, both writers affirm a great intel-
lectual and moral corruption and decline to be
the consequence of the Fall. Here again, in the
statement of the consequences to man's intellectual
nature, there is not only sameness of teaching but
similarity of language. Calvin, as we have seen
in the quotation above, says : " Reason, by which
man discerns between good and evil, and by which
he understands and judges," became weak and
corrupt, and his previously sound mind became
" immersed in darkness." So Davies affirms : —

" But then grew Reason darke, that she no more,

Could the faire formes of 6*00^ and Truth discern;
j/ Battes they became, that eagles were before:
And this they got by their desire to learned

Again, they use similar language in describing
more specifically the modicum of intelligence left
to man after the Fall. Calvin says, as we have
seen above, that man has still some " sparks " of
intelligence left ; but " that this light is so smoth-

Of Human Knowledge 59

ered by clouds of darkness that it cannot shine
forth to any good effect."

Davies likewise affirms, that " Reason's lampe " —

" Is now become a sparkle, which doth lie
Vnder the ashes, halfe extinct, and dead."

And, he asks : —

" How can we hope, that through the eye and eare,
This dying sparkle, in this cloudy place,
Can recollect these beames of knowledge cleere,
Which were infus'd in the first minds by grace ? "

So that we find not only a sameness of doctrine
here but also a striking similarity of language in
which the doctrine is presented.

Furthermore, Calvin in this same chapter (Bk. II.
ch. ii.), which deals with the Fall of man, evaluates
human knowledge just as Davies does in this con-
nection in the verses quoted above. Both pro-
nounce severely on its emptiness and vanity. He
says : " There is, therefore, now, in the human
mind, discernment to this extent, that it is natu-
rally influenced by the love of truth, the neglect of
which in the lower animals is a proof of their gross
and irrational nature. Still it is true that this love
of truth fails before it reaches the goal, forthwith
falling away into vanity. As the human mind is

60 Philosophy in Poetry

unable, from dulness, to pursue the right path of
investigation, and, after various wanderings, stum-
bling every now and then like one groping in dark-
ness, at length gets completely bewildered, so its
whole procedure proves how unfit it is to search
the truth and find it." *

It is just in this vein that the poet speaks of
the vanity of human knowledge when he describes
it as the " sky-stolne fire " by kissing which the
admiring Satyr burned his lips ; and as " the cloud
of emptie raine " which, when embraced by Jove's
guest, yielded only monsters; and as false pails,
which, being filled by painful labor, failed to retain
the water ; and as the fiery coach, the seeking of
which brought death to the youth; and, finally,
as the boy's wings, which, as he approached the
sun, melted " and let him fall."

Thus early, then, in the poem, do we find, in
the similarity of thought and language, evidence
of the influence of Calvin on the poet. Further
study of the poem will make this influence more
manifest.

After Calvin's time the doctrine of an intellectual
Fall was affirmed by the Synod of Dort, in the
following words : —

1 Op. tit., Vol. I. Bk. II. ch. ii. sec. 12.

Of Human Knowledge 61

" Homo ab initio ad imaginem DEI conditus
vera et salutari sui Creatoris et rerum spiritualium
notitia in mente, et justitia in voluntate et corde,
puritate in omnibus affectibus exornatus, adeoque
totus sanctus fuit ; sed Diaboli instinctu, et libera
sua voluntate a Deo desciscens, eximiis istis donis
seipsum orbavit: atque e contrario eorum loco
coecitatem, horribiles tenebras, vanitatem, ac per-
versitatem judicii in mente, malitiam, rebellionem,
ac duritiem in voluntate et corde, impuritatem
denique in omnibus affectibus contraxit."

The same doctrine is affirmed by the Reformed
Dutch Church in America, it being an adoption
from the Canons of the Synod of Dort : " Man
was originally formed after the image of God. His
understanding was adorned with a true and saving
knowledge of his Creator, and of spiritual things ;
his heart and will were upright ; all his affections
pure, and the whole Man was holy ; but revolting
from God by the instigation of the devil, and abus-
ing the freedom of his own will, he forfeited these
excellent gifts, and on the contrary entailed on
himself blindness of mind, horrible darkness, vanity,
and perverseness of judgment; because wicked,

1 Canones Synodi Dordrechtanae, 1618-1619, Tertium et
Quartum Doctrinae Caput, Art. Primus.

62 Philosophy in Poetry

rebellious, and obdurate in heart and will, and
impure in (all) his affections."1

The doctrine of an intellectual Fall appears also
in recent theology. It is involved in the episte-
mology underlying the theology of some modern
German theologians, one of the cardinal features
of which is, that man's capacity to know the truth
is materially affected by his moral character.
Which conception, as applied to the doctrine of
the Fall, would imply at least this much, that what-
ever may have been man's intellectual capacity
prior to the Fall, the Fall being a moral one, ne-
cessarily involved an intellectual Fall as well.
With Davies the intellectual power of man in the
paradisiacal state was exceedingly great. He was
an intellectual giant. Reason, as we have seen, was
" sharpe and cleere," with a capacity of approach-
ing very near to the " Eternal Light." His intellec-
tual Fall was correspondingly great. It was a serious
darkening of the moral and mental vision. And this
moral impotency has been entailed upon the race.
Hence the disparaging view, taken by our poet, of
human knowledge and man's capacity to know.

1 " Constitution of the Reformed Church in America." Cf.
Schaff, " The Creeds of Christendom." New York, 1877, pp. 587-
588.

CHAPTER III
MEANS BY WHICH THE SOUL IS KNOWN

TF we turn now to the second part of Nosce
Teipsum we are. brought into contact with the
real subject-matter of the poem. It is here that
the poet first really begins to philosophize. We
find here a formal development in verse of a com-
plete philosophy of mind. This second part of
the work opens with a statement of the means by
which knowledge of the human soul is to be at-
tained. It is not by the eye of sense, he tells us,
that a knowledge of the soul is to be gained.
Sense deals with external objects. It must, there-
fore, be by the aid of some other method. God
has infused in man " an inward light " by which
his soul can gain a vision of herself. The soul,
although endowed with the power of reflection,
needs divine aid to see herself aright. The poet,
undertaking the study of his soul, realizes all the
more keenly his helplessness without divine aid, in

64 Philosophy in Poetry

view of the ignorance of great minds concerning
the essential nature and location of the soul. For,
as he points out, —

" One thinks the Soule is aire; another,yfrv/
Another blood, diffus'd about the heart ;
Another saith, the elements conspire,
And to her essence each doth giue a part.

"Musicians thinke our Soules are harmonies,
Phisicians hold that they complexions bee ;
Epicures make them swarmes of atomies,
Which doe by chance into our bodies flee.

" Some thinke one generall Soule fils euery braine,
As the bright sunne sheds light in euery starre ;
And others thinke the name of Soule is vaine,
And that we onely well-mixt bodies are.

" In judgement of her substance thus they vary ;
And thus they vary in iudgement of her seat ;
For some her chaire vp to the braine doe carry,
Some thrust it downe into the stomackes heat.

" Some place it in the root of life, the heart :
Some in the liuer, fountaine of the veines ;
Some say, Shee is all in all, and all in part :
Some say, She is not containd but all containes.

"Thus these great clerks their little wisdome show,
While with their doctrines they at hazard play,
Tossing their light opinions to and fro,
To mock the lewd, as learn'd in this as they.

Means by which the Soul is Known 65

" For no craz'd braine could euer yet propound, Q)

Touching the Soule, so vaine and fond a thought,
But some among these masters haue been found,
Which in their Schooles the self-same thing haue taught."

This diversity of human opinion and confusion
of thought concerning the nature and location of
the soul Davies regards as God's punishment for /
pride of intellect. God, alone, who knows the '
nature and powers of the soul, can help man to
this knowledge. And the poet thinks that this
divine aid has come to him, so that now he can
understand the soul in her essential constitution.
He thinks that, by the light of the "clear lampe"
of God's " Oracle diuine," he is now able to trace
the subtle lines of the soul's immortal face.

In the above statement of means by which
knowledge of the soul is to be attained the poet still
seems to be under the influence of an epistemology
born of theological belief. The necessity of Divine
aid in seeking a knowledge of God and the soul
is a characteristic doctrine of Christian theology.
Calvin affirms it as an essential condition of our
knowledge of God and our relations to Him.1 This
may be another instance of the influence of the

1 Op. cit, Bk. II. ch. ii. sees. 18, 19, sq.
S

66 Philosophy in Poetry

theologian upon the poet-philosopher. However,
while this is doubtless true, there is much truth
also in the words of Professor Morris : *' But guard
against supposing that Sir John Davies could be
led to assert the indispensableness of this light
only out of deference, or from blind subjection, to
the dictum of a revealed or currently established
theology. Christian philosophy does indeed as-
sert this, but, not only Christian philosophy, all
systems of affirmative (not negative, empirical,
" subjective ") Idealism, be they called after the
names of Plato or Aristotle, of Descartes, Spinoza
or Leibnitz, of Berkeley, Kant or Hegel, also assert,
in some form, and of necessity, the same thing.
The very sense of philosophical Idealism is to put
and represent man in direct relation with the Ab-
solute Mind, so that his light is its light, and its
strength is made his."

It was noted above that Davies felt the necessity
of divine aid in his study of the human soul all
the more because of the confusion of thought which
reigned among " the great wits " on this subject : —

" For her true forme how can my sparke discerne ?
Which dim by nature, Art did neuer cleare ;
When the great wits, of whom all skill we learn,
Are ignorant both what shee is, and where"

1 Op. cit, p. 65.

Means by which the Soul is Known 6j

And then he illustrates this confusion of thought
by citing numerous examples. Aristotle, in the be-
ginning of the De Anima, also calls attention to the
variety of speculative opinions in regard to the soul.1
So, also, do Cicero,2 and Nemesius.3 Taken to-
gether, they refer to essentially the same set of opin-
ions as to the nature of the soul found in Davies's
list of references. Davies, however, simply cites
the opinions and does not give the names of their
authors. A comparison of their statements will
leave no doubt as to the sources of Davies's infor-
mation on these subjects. It will also acquaint us
with the ultimate sources of these speculative views.
The first opinion of the soul which the poet cites
is, that the soul is air. " One thinks the Soule is
aire" Aristotle says : " Diogenes as also some
others resolved soul into air, supposing that this
was the subtlest of all things and, at the same
time, a principle of existence." * Cicero refers to
this view as a common opinion.5 Nemesius refutes
the doctrine of the soul as air.6

1 Bk. I. ch. ii.

2 " Disputationes Tusculanae," Lib. I. §§ 9-11.
_ 3 Op. cit, ch. ii. sec. r.

4 "Ue Anima," Bk. I. ch. ii. sec. 15. All quotations are
from Wallace's translation.
6 Op. cit., Bk. I. sees. 9-11.
6 Op. cit., p. 94. All quotations are from Wither's translation,

68 Philosophy in Poetry

The next opinion referred to is, that the soul is
fire.

" One thinks the Soule is aire ; another, fire"

Aristotle says : " Democritus, whose view agrees
with that of Leucippus, consequently maintained
soul to be a sort of fire and heat." 1 Again, " He-
raclitus also identifies the soul with his principle
in describing it as the ' fiery process' out of which
he derives other existing things, his ground being
that it is that which is least corporeal and in con-
stant movement." 2 Cicero says : " The soul seems
to Zeno the Stoic to be fire." 3 Nemesius attributes
this conception of the soul as fire to the Stoics.
" The Stoicks affirm, that it is a certain Blast, hct
and fiery'' 4

The third view of the nature of the soul referred
to by Davies is, that it is blood : —

" Another blood, diffus'd about the heart.

Aristotle says : " Others again, like Critias, have
identified the soul with blood, regarding sentiency
as the most distinctive characteristic of the soul

1 Op. cit, Bk. I. ch. ii. sec. 3.

2 Ibid., Bk. I. ch. ii. sec. 16.

3 Op. cit., Bk. I. sec. 9. All quotations from Cicero are
from Yonge's translation. New York, 1877.

4 Op. cit., p. 78.

Means by which the Soul is Known 69

and viewing this sentient capacity as due to the
element of blood." * Cicero says : " Empedocles
imagines the blood, which is suffused over the
heart, to be the soul." 2 So Nemesius, " Critias
holds, that it is bloudr*

The next view cited by Davies is, that the soul
is composed of the four elements : —

" Another saith, the elements conspire
And to her essence each doth giue a part."

Aristotle says : " Thus Empedocles makes the
soul to be composed of all the elements, and at
the same time considers each one of these ele-
ments a soul. His words are as follows:

' Surely by earth we perceive earth, and man knoweth water

by water.

By air sees air the divine ; by fire sees fire the destructive :
Yea, love comprehends love, and 'tis through strife dismal
we know strife.'

In this same fashion also does Plato in the Ti-
maeus construct the soul out of the elements."4
Again Davies says : —

" Musicians thinke our Soiiles are harmonies.'1''

1 Op. cit, Bk. I. ch. ii. sec. 19.

2 Op. cit., Bk. I. sec. 9.
8 Op. cit., p. 78.

4 Op. cit., Bk. I. ch. ii. sees. 6, 7.

70 Philosophy in Poetry

Cicero says : " There were many among the an-
cients who held singular opinions on this subject,
of whom the latest was Aristoxenus, a man who
was both a musician and a philosopher. He main-
tained a certain straining of the body, like what is
called harmony in music, to be the soul, and be-
lieved that, from the figure and nature of the whole
body, various motions are excited, as sounds are
from an instrument. He adhered steadily to his
system, and yet he said something, the nature of
which, whatever it was, had been detailed and
explained a great while before by Plato." 1 Ne-
mesius refers to this view in the words : " And,
because Dinar chits defines the Soul to be an
Harmonic ; [i. e. of the four elements] ; and Sim-
mias, contradicting Socrates, affirms the same ;
comparing the Soul to an karmonie, and the body
to a Harp ; we will here set downe the same con-
futations of them, which we find in Plato's Dia-
logue called Phcedo" 2
Again, Davies says : —

" Phisicians hold that they complexions bee."
Davies refers here, doubtless, to the view of the
soul which he takes pains later to refute ; namely,

1 Op. cit, Bk. I. sec. 10.

* Op. cit., p. 108. Not " Dinarchus," but Dicaearchus.

Means by which the Soul is Known 77

the view which identifies the soul with the well-
tempered humors of the body — or " the tempera-
ture of the body." The word " complexions " is
thus used by Nemesius. He says: "Some will
aske, perhaps, how it comes to passe, (if the soule
be not the temperature of the body) that men are
vitious or vertuous, according to their naturall con-
stittitions and complexions : " -1 etc. The view of
the soul thus spoken of by Davies is attributed
by Nemesius to the physician Galen. He says:
" Galen, hath determined nothing peremptorily of
the SOUL; yea, hee himselfe affirmeth plainly, in
his writings of demonstration, that hee hath deliv-
ered nothing precisely of the same : But, it may
be collected by some of his expressions, that he
could be best pleased to affirm that the SOUL is a
temperature." 2

Next, Davies refers to the Epicurean view of the
soul : —

" Epicures make them swarmes of atomies,
Which doe by chance into our bodies flee."

Of course, as Aristotle antedates Epicurus, there is
no reference in the De Anima to his view. But
we find there a reference to the atomic theory of
the soul. Such an atomic conception is involved
1 Op. cit., p. 123. 2 Op. cit., pp. 114-115-

72 Philosophy in Poetry

in the views of Democritus and Leucippus already
referred to. The spherical atoms according to
these thinkers constitute fire. And, says Aristotle,
" The reason why they maintain that the spherical
atoms constitute the soul, is that atoms of such
configuration are best able to penetrate through
everything, and to set the other things in motion
at the same time as they are moved themselves,
the assumption here being that the soul is that
which supplies animals with motion." * Cicero
refers to the atomic theory of Democritus.2 Ne-
mesius refers to Epicurus's view of the Soul in
connection with Democritus and the Stoics, refut-
ing them as Materialists — regarding the soul as
" body." He refers to the atomism of Democritus
only.3

Davies next refers to the doctrine of a universal
soul. He says : —

" Some thinke one generall Soule fils euery braine,
As the bright sunne sheds light in euery starre."

Davies may refer here to Plato's doctrine of the
" world-soul," which he develops in the Phcedrus,
Timceus, Philebus, and the Laws. Or, his refer-
ence may be to the doctrine mentioned by Neme-

1 Op. cit., Bk. I. ch. ii. sec. 3.

2 Op. cit, Bk. I. sec. n. 8 Op. cit., pp. 78-79.

Means by which the Soul is Known 73

sius : " Besides all these, some were of opinion
that there was but one and the same SOUL be-
longing to all things; which was by smal por-
tions distributed to all particular things ; and, then
gathered into it self againe : of which opinion were
the Manichees and certain others." 1 This was
also a Stoic conception.
Davies continues : —

" And others thinke the name of Soule is vaine,
And that we onely well-mixt bodies are."

According to Cicero, Pherecrates held there is no
such thing as a soul, " but that it is a name with-
out a meaning ; and that it is idle to use the ex-
pressions ' animals/ or ' animated beings ' ; that
neither men nor beasts have minds or souls, but
that all that power by which we act or perceive is
equally infused into every living creature, and is
inseparable from the body, for if it were not, it
would be nothing ; nor is there anything whatever
really existing except body." 2

From this difference of opinion in regard to the
substance of the soul, Davies turns to a similar dif-
ference of opinion in regard to the " seat " or loca-
tion of the soul. Neither Aristotle nor Nemesius

1 Op. cit., pp. 81-82. 2 Op. cit., Bk. I. sec. 10.

^4 Philosophy in Poetry

discusses the opinions of " the great wits " on this
subject, although they discuss at length the rela-
tion of the soul to the body. The opinions to
which Davies refers are, first, the localizing of the
soul in the brain : —

"In Judgement of her substance thus they vary ;
And thus they vary in iudgement of her seat;
For some her chaire vp to the braine doe carry."

The Pythagoreans divide the soul into three parts,
Reason, Mind, and Courage, localizing Reason
and Mind in the brain, and Courage in the heart.1
Plato took the tripartite view of the soul — re-
garding Reason or the rational part of the soul as
localized in the head. In that singular account of
the formation of man contained in the Timczus he
says : " That which, like a field, was to receive
the divine seed, he made round every way, and
called that portion of the marrow, brain, intending
that, when an animal is perfected, the vessel con-
taining this substance should be the head ; but as
touching the remaining and mortal part of the soul
— that which was intended to contain this — he
divided into round and long figures, and he called
them all by the name * marrow ' ; and from these, as

1 Cf . Zeller, " Pre-Socratic Philosophy," trans, by S. F. Alleyne,
Vol. I. pp. 480-481.

Means by which the Soul is Known 75

from anchors, casting the bonds of the whole soul,
he proceeded to fashion around them the entire
framework or our body, constructing for the mar-
row, first of all, a complete covering of bones." x
Strato of Lampsacus also localized the soul in the
head.2 This, also, was the view of those writers in
the Middle Ages who identified the soul with the
animal spirits which were supposed to be the re-
sult of transforming the vital spirits in the brain, a
more specific account of which will be given later.
Davies himself regarded the brain as the " seat "
of the soul : —

" This Lampe through all the regions of my braine,

Where my soule sits, doth spread such beames of grace."

And again : —

" Right so the Soule, which is a lady free,

And doth the Justice of her State maintaine ;
Because the senses ready seruants be,
Attending nigh about her Court, the braine."

The next view of the location of the soul to
which Davies refers is, that : —

" Some thrust it downe into the stomackes heat."

1 Timaus, 73, Jowett's trans. Cf. also Cicero, op. cit., Bk. I.
sec. 10.

2 Zeller, " Outlines of the History of Greek Philosophy," trans.,
p. 225.

76 Philosophy in Poetry

This view has been attributed to the Pythago-
reans. But, as seen above, they held an entirely
different conception.

Again, speaking of still another view on this
subject, he says : —

" Some place it in the root of life, the heart"

This view of the " seat " of the soul was quite com-
mon among the Stoics. " This fire of the soul is
nourished by the blood, and the governing part
of the soul (the ^ye/juovt/cov) has its seat in the
heart, the centre of the course of the blood (ac-
cording to Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, &c., from
whom only a few authors deviate)."1 This was
also a common conception among the Hebrews.

Another view referred to by Davies is, that some
locate the soul in the liver : —

" Some in the liuer, fountaine of the veines."

Plato locates a " portion " of the soul " about "
the liver which he makes the source of " prophetic
intimations." Speaking of the liver, he says:
" And the converse happens when some gentle
inspiration of the understanding pictures images
of an opposite character, and allays the bile and
bitterness by not stirring them, and refuses to

1 Zeller, op. cit., p. 244.

Means by which the Soul is Known 77

touch the nature opposed to itself, but by mak-
ing use of the natural sweetness of the liver,
straightens all things and makes them to be right
and smooth and free, and makes the portion
of the soul which resides about the liver happy
and joyful, having in the night a time of peace
and moderation, and the power of divination in
sleep when it no longer participates in sense and
reason." 1

And, finally, Davies says : —

" Some say, Shee is all in all, and all in part :
Some say, She is not containd but all containes."

He probably refers to the views of Nemesius
which embody all that is expressed in these
words. Speaking of the relation of soul to body
the Church Father says : " For, as the Sun, so
soon as it appeareth, changes the ayre into light ;
so making it lightsome, and so diffusing it selfe
with the ayre, that it is united with the same, and

1 Timeeus, 71, Jowett's trans. Referring to the Semitic con-
ception, Kennedy says : " This peculiar sanctity of the visceral
fat, is to be explained by the fact that the liver and kidneys, with
the fat surrounding them, were regarded by the Semitic races as
being with the blood, the seat of life. . . ."

" Like the kidneys, the liver was also regarded as an important
seat of emotion." — Hastings, " A Dictionary of the Bible." New
York, 1900, p. 128.

7# Philosophy in Poetry

yet not confounded therewith : Even so, the soul
being united with the Body, remains without con-
fusion therewith ; differing in this onely, that the
Sunne being a Body, and circumscribed within the
compasse of Place, is not himselfe in every place
where his light is, but (as fire in the wood, or as
the flame in a candle) is confined to a certaine
place.

" It is not so with the sou!. For, being void of
all Body, and not contained within the limits of any
place, it passeth all and whole, through its own
whole light , and through the whole Body, wherein
it is ; neither is any part of it illuminated thereby,
wherein it is not fully and wholly present. Neither
is it in the body as in some bottle or other vessell,
nor compassed in by the same ; but the Body is
rather in the soule, and is thereby held in and
fastned together." x Here we have the doctrine
of the soul being " all in all, and all in part"; and
that " she is not containd but all containes."
As will be seen later, this is the view of Davies
also.

This variety of opinion, then, in regard to the
"what" and "where" of the soul indicated to
Davies's mind the ignorance of " the great wits "
1 Op. cit., pp. 197-199.

Means by which the Soul is Known 79

on these subjects. And this confusion " among
men's wits " was God's punishment for " pride of
wit." And, if such great minds, " of whom all
skill we learn," were unable to throw light on these
great questions of the soul, Davies felt that his
own mind, —

" Which dimme by nature, Art did neuer cleare " ;

would certainly be insufficient for such knowledge,
unless aided by Divine light. Hence the prayer : —

" O Light which mak'st the light, which makes the day !
Which setst the eye without, and mind within ;
'Lighten my spirit with one cleare heauenly ray,
Which now to view it selfe doth first begin."

CHAPTER IV
REALITY OF THE SOUL. — SENSATIONALISM

T TAVING thus explained by what means the
soul is to be known, Davies proceeds to
unfold to us his philosophy of mind. The first
problem with which he deals is the reality of
mind.

The mind, according to our poet, is a reality —
a real substance and spirit. Though united to the
body, which serves as an apt means for the exer-
cise of her powers, she is nevertheless, so far as
her essential being is concerned, independent of
the body. This reality of the soul is affirmed also
in its relation to sense. The soul is not merely a
derivative of sense. Its essential being consists
not in sense, but in higher powers. The senses
are merely the servants of the soul. They are
mere attendants at her court — the brain. Now
this self-being of the soul, which in a manner is
independent of the body and the senses, is greatly
emphasized by Davies. He insists upon it very

Reality of the Soul. — Sensationalism 81

early in the second part of his poem, and maintains
it at length in an elaborate argument against two
prominent types of Philosophy — Sensationalism
and Materialism. The theory of Sensationalism,
which explains all of the higher activities of mind,
such as memory, imagination, conception, judg-
ment, reasoning, will, etc., and, indeed, the very
mind itself, on the basis of sensations and their
mechanical groupings, is such a formidable theory,
involving such serious consequences, that the poet
enters upon an elaborate consideration of it,
earnestly attempting its refutation. His argument
proceeds as follows : —

Attention is first called to certain modes of the
mind's functioning which Davies considers to be
essentially different from sense, and then he pro-
ceeds to show that the mind cannot be a deriva-
tive of sense because of the sui generis character
of these higher modes of functioning which are
expressive of the mind's essential nature. In the
first place, the mind has the power of scientific
generalization — of gathering —

" From many cases like, one rule of Law."

This work of generalization is not the work of
sense. Again, the mind has the power of seeking

82 Philosophy in Poetry

the causes of things, and this functioning according
to the law of cause and effect is done without the
aid of sense. Again, the mind has the power of
functioning according to the law of means and
ends, and this power is her own, underived from
sense. She has the power also of rational imagi-
nation, of definition, of argument, of making moral
distinctions — in short, the power of rational intel-
lect and will, and these powers, so far as their
essential nature is concerned, are independent of
sense. But while thus original and underived from
sense, the mind in these fundamental modes of her
energizing, does not act out of all relation to sense.
Davies approaches close to the Kantian position
here. The rational soul without sense would be
empty, and sense without the rational soul would
be blind. Speaking of the soul, in her relation to
sense, he says : —

" Nor can her selfe discourse or iudge of ought,
But what the Sense collects and home doth bring
And yet the power of her discoursing thought,
From these collections, is a diuers thing.

" For though our eyes can nought but colours see,
Yet colours giue them not their powre of sight ;
So, though these fruits of Sense her obiects bee,
Yet she discernes them by her proper light.

Reality of the Soul. — Sensationalism 8}

" The workman on his stuffe his skill doth show,
And yet the stuffe giues not the man his skill;
Kings their affaires do by their seruants know,
But order them by their owne royall will.

" So, though this cunning mistresse and this queene,
Doth, as her instrument, the Senses vse,
To know all things that are felt, heard, or seene,
Yet she her selfe doth onely iudge and chuse"

After a little further illustration of the dif-
ference and relations between sense and soul,
he enters more specifically upon his argument
to prove that the latter is not derived from the
former : —

If the soul be merely " a fine perfection of the
sense," then what is that which accuses sense of
false judgments and of fond appetites, and leads us
to do that which is obnoxious to sense? An analy-
sis of judgment proper and of moral discernment
and choice reveals the fact that their nature is
something other than sense. Again, it is further
evident that there are powers of mind which are
essentially different from sense. If there were not,
then those in whom the senses are sound, should
have sound minds. That is, most of wisdom and
least of folly. However, as a matter of fact, this
is not the case. Wisdom usually comes with age,

84 Philosophy in Poetry

and decay of the senses accompanies age. On
the other hand, folly usually characterizes those of
quickest sense.

Again, if all mental life is, in the final analysis,
naught but sense, then animal intelligence would
be superior to human intelligence ; for animals, as
a rule, are possessed of keener sense than man.
But animal intelligence is inferior to human intelli-
gence. Animals are wanting in reasoning power
— in "that quicke discoursing power" by which
the erroneous judgments of sense are rectified.
This is manifest, for example, in the case of the
bee that seeks for honey in the painted flower ; and
in birds that peck the shadow for the fruit. Again,
there is a difference between sense and soul. Sense
deals with the forms or externals of things. Soul,
on the other hand, penetrates them — grasping
their essential natures. But, really, to speak accu-
rately, says the poet, it is incorrect thus to separate
sense and soul. Sense is really a power of soul —
one aspect of the soul's activity. Through the
various senses the soul acquaints herself with the
divers forms of objects. While the sense spreads
outward, it nevertheless has its root in the soul.
Sense in itself would be blind. It could not per-
ceive objects. It is the soul that perceives. Eyes

Reality of the Soul. — Sensationalism 85

and ears know no more of their objects than do
glasses of the faces which they reflect. This is
quite evident when we remember that if thought
be elsewhere, we often fail to see things even
though the eyes be open. And if there were not
a unitary power which both sees and hears, our
sights and sounds would be double. It is the soul,
then, that really perceives.1 Sense, he repeats,
without soul, would be blind; just as the judg-
ments of the soul without the materials of sense
would be empty. In view of the foregoing reasons,
Davies concludes that the position of Sensational-
ism is untenable — that the soul is something more
than a " fine perfection of the sense " — that it is

1 Compare these words with those of Cicero, who says :
" For not even now is it with our eyes that we view what we see,
for the body itself has no senses ; but . . . there are certain
perforated channels from the seat of the soul to the eyes, ears,
and nose ; so that frequently, when either prevented by medita-
tion, or the force of some bodily disorder, we neither hear nor see,
though our eyes and ears are open and in good condition ; so that
we may easily apprehend that it is the soul itself which sees and
hears, and not those parts which are, as it were, but windows to
the soul, by means of which, however, she can perceive nothing,
unless she is on the spot, and exerts herself. How shall we ac-
count for the fact that by the same power of thinking we compre-
hend the most different things — as color, taste, heat, smell, and
sound — which the soul could never know by her five messengers,
unless everything were referred to her, and she were the sole
judge of all." — Op. cit., Bk. I. sec. 20.

86 Philosophy in Poetry

a distinct, unitary agent, — sense itself being one
of its modes of functioning: —

" Then is the Soule a nature, which containes
The powre of Sense, within a greater power
Which doth imploy and vse the Senses paines,
But sits and rules within her priuate bower."

The theory of Sensationalism, which our poet
so earnestly endeavors to refute, is quite con-
spicuous in the history of speculative thought.
Among the Ancients, it was taught by the Sophists
and the Sceptics. Among the Moderns, Hobbes,
Hume, Condillac, Hartley, James Mill, Comte, John
Stuart Mill, Lewes, Spencer, and others, are its
disciples. There are three aspects or forms of the
theory, the psychological, ontological, and epis-
temological. Sensationalism from the psychologi-
cal point of view endeavors to explain all mental
life on the basis of sensations grouped according
to certain mechanical laws, usually called laws of
association. Given the raw materials of sensations,
and combining them according to these laws, all
the higher forms of mental activity, as conception,
judgment, reasoning, willing, etc., can be accounted
for. They are all derivations of sense. Or, be-
ginning analytically with the highest forms of

Reality of the Soul. — Sensationalism 8j

mental life, by a kind of psychological chemistry
we are enabled to analyze them into their ultimate
elements — sensations. This psychological aspect
of Sensationalism is common to all advocates of
the theory.

There is but a short step from the psychological
to the ontological aspect of the theory. Viewed
from this standpoint, not only all the higher modes
of mental life are explainable on the basis of sen-
sations and their mechanical groupings, but the
mind itself is thus explained. It has no other
being than that of sensations and their ideas,
united by the laws of association. There is no
unitary subject of conscious states — no unitary,
distinct individual agent, manifesting itself in man-
ifold forms of activity, such as perceiving, remem-
bering, thinking, willing, etc. The idea of an
agent functioning in certain forms is foreign to
these thinkers. Man is merely —

" A willy-nilly current of sensations."

Or, as Hume, the prince of Sensationalists, has
put it, " a bundle of perceptions." Sometimes
this position is in the interests of an idealistic inter-
pretation of the ultimate nature of reality, as in the
case of Hume's philosophy. Again, it favors a
materialistic philosophy, as in the case of Spencer

88 Philosophy in Poetry

— sensations being conceived as mere modes of
nervous motion, or " nervous shocks."

Viewed from an epistemological standpoint,
Sensationalism lands us in scepticism or agnos-
ticism. It leads to scepticism by making sense
the only source of knowledge. Thus it necessarily
implies the relativity of knowledge — that knowl-
edge is relative to each individual, and as each in-
dividual differs from every other, there can be no
universal factor which real knowledge demands.
This is clearly brought out in the philosophy of
Protagoras, as embodied in his famous saying, that
" Man is the measure of all things " — meaning by
man, each individual man, and each individual
man in the immediacy and individuality of his
character as distinguished from his universal char-
acter as revealed in his rationality. In other
words, all knowledge being sense knowledge, " and
as sensations differ for different individuals, a thing
seeming green to one and blue to another, large to
one and small to another, it follows that there are
as many truths as individuals ; that the individual
is the measure of the true and the false ; . . . that
there are no universally valid truths or principles,
or, at least, that we have no certain criterion
(/cpLTijpiov) by which we recognize the absolute

Reality of the Soul. — Sensationalism 89

truth of a metaphysical or moral proposition.
The individual is the measure of the true and the
good. ... It is not possible for us to prove any-
thing but the particular fact of sensation; still
more impossible is it to know the causes or ulti-
mate conditions of reality, which escape all sense-
perception." J Much of our modern agnosticism is
based on Sensationalism. It recognizes sensations
as the ultimate objects of knowledge. The objects
or grounds of these sensations cannot be reached
by the human mind. The so-called thought-rela-
tions, by which it is supposed we reach the reality
beyond sensations, being resolved into relations
merely between sensations themselves.

Now, of these three aspects of Sensationalism,
Davies deals with the first two — the psychologi-
cal and the ontological. And he deals with the
psychological as leading up to the ontological,
with which he is primarily concerned. In his
treatment of Sensationalism, he in no respect
underestimates its force, but he undoubtedly suc-
ceeds in detecting its vulnerable point. In oppo-
sition to it, he affirms the reality of the mind as
a distinct agent underived from any elementary
mind-stuff in the form of sense or sensations.

i Weber's " History of Philosophy," trans, by F. Thilly. New

York, 1896. pn. 60-6 1.

go Philosophy in Poetry

The reason for such affirmation, according to him,
is the consciousness of the existence of such an
agent in the exercise of its fundamental powers —
wit and will. The mind's real being consists in
these fundamental modes of psychical functioning,
and these powers cannot be derived from sense,
but are original, underived, native powers of the
soul. That this is so, he affirms, is evident from
the fact that they correct the testimony of sense ;
they do what is obnoxious to sense ; they lead us
in directions counter to sense ; that sense would
be blind without the rational soul ; and that, after
all, sense itself is but an aspect or form of the
soul's activity. He views the mind activity-wise,
rather than merely content-wise as does the sen-
sationalist; and insists just as emphatically, al-
though in a much less thorough fashion, as did
Kant in his immortal Critique of Pure Reason on
the native activity of mind in its relation to sense.
And he further insists, that this underived mental
activity is the activity of a spiritual or psychical
agent whose existence and essential nature are
revealed in and by this activity itself: —

" Then her selfe-being nature shines in this,

That she performes her noblest works alone ;
The ivorke, the touch-stone of the nature is,
And by their operations, things are knowne."

Reality of the Soul. — Sensationalism 97

The distinction between sense and the rational
soul which Davies insists upon is thoroughly Aris-
totelian. In his refutation of Sensationalism, and
later in his analysis of the powers of the soul,
Davies is in accord with three positions of Aris-
totle: (i) That there is an essential distinction
between sense and the rational soul. (2) That the
rational soul, unlike sense, is independent of the
bodily organism. (3) That the rational soul is
" the source of general ideas." On these points
Aristotle says : " This consideration shews how
improbable it is that reason should be incorporated
with the bodily organism: for if so, it would be
of some definite character, either hot or cold, or
it would have some organ for its operation, just
as is the case with sense. But, as matter of fact,
reason has nothing of this character. There is
truth, too, in the view of those who say the soul
is the source of general ideas ; only it is soul not
as a whole but in its faculty of reason : and the
forms or ideas in question exist within the mind,
not as endowments which we already possess, but
only as capacities to be developed." 1 And he fol-
lows with an explanation of the differences between
the "faculty of reason" and the " faculty of sense." 2

1 Op. cit., Bk. III. ch. iv. sec. 4. 2 Ibid., sees. 5-8.

CHAPTER V
REALITY OF THE SOUL. — MATERIALISM

/T~"NHUS far the poet has dealt with Sensational-
ism. He considers next another theory that
denies the reality of the soul as a distinct, unitary
spiritual agent, — and this is Materialism. Several
forms or aspects of this theory are considered by
Davies, the first of which he indicates in the last
line of the following stanza. Speaking of the soul
he says : —

" She is a substance, and a reall thing,

Which hath it selfe an actuall working might;
Which neither from the Senses' power doth spring,
Nor from the bodie's humors, tempred right."

The theory of Materialism indicated in the
words of the last line of this stanza is undoubtedly
the old theory which identified the soul with the
well-tempered humors of the body, or with the
so-called vital and animal spirits. The blood was
considered the noblest humor, and it was sup-
posed by some that the heart prepared the vital

Reality of the Soul. — Materialism 93

spirits out of the blood. Then the vital spirits
were refined in the cavities of the brain into ani-
mal spirits, which were supposed to be the soul
or spirit of man. So that this is what Davies
means by the words : —

** How gross are they that drown her in the blood !
Or in the bodie's humors tempred well."

Against such a conception of the soul Davies urges
the following argument : —

Such a conception would mean, that one with
the best tempered body would be possessed of the
best mind, which would be the same as affirming
that the musician with the best instrument, and
the best tuned instrument, had the most skill, and
that the neat pencil and clear colors made the
painter. If we are to thus regard the soul, why
does not a beautiful body refine the understand-
ing? Why does not a good complexion rectify
the will? Why does not health bring wisdom,
and sickness make men brutish? Furthermore,
who can find in the faculties of the soul — in
memory, or understanding, or will — aught of those
original elements, air, fire, earth, or water, from
which it is supposed these humors spring? What
skillful alchemist can draw the quintessence of

94 Philosophy in Poetry

these from the mind? Again, if the lifeless and
senseless elements can produce in us so great a
power as the soul, why do they not give them-
selves, as well as other things with which they are
mixed, a like excellence? Again, if the soul were
merely a quality of the body, then would she be
sick, maimed, and blind when the body is so.
Instead of this, however, we often find a healthy,
sharp-sighted, perfect soul where these privations
are manifest. If the soul thus partook of the
nature of the body then would her strength decay
with the decay of the strength of the body. But
as a matter of fact, "when the bodie's strongest
sinewes slake," the soul is most active. Again, if
the soul were a mere accident of the body, as
whiteness is an accident of snow, then she might
absent herself from the body without being missed
by the substance thereof. But this is not so. It
is the body that depends on the soul, and not the
soul that depends on the body. It is the soul that
sustains and cherishes the body. It is she that
lends the secret powers of life to it. When these
life-giving powers of the soul are withdrawn, the
body perishes. In short, the physical organism
in itself considered, apart from the soul, is a dead,
inert thing. Hence Davies concludes, that the

Reality of the Soul. — Materialism 95

soul must not be identified with the well-tempered
humors of the body.

" Since then the Sonle works by her selfe alone,

Springs not from Sense, nor humors, well agreeing;
Her nature is peculiar, and her owne :
She is a substance, and a perfect being.'1'1

In discussing this theory of the identification
of the soul with the well-tempered humors of the
body, Davies has probably in mind, as was pre-
viously suggested, some form of the doctrine of
" spirits " so commonly accepted in the Middle
Ages and even after his own time. The doctrine
was held in different forms and dates back to
Greek and Alexandrine thought. But the form
prevalent in medieval times was that of the theory
of Galen. Lange says, that " Galen's theory of
the psychical and ' animal spiritus ' in connection
with the doctrine of the four humors and the tem-
peraments was very early in the Middle Ages
fused with the Aristotelian psychology. Accord-
ing to this doctrine, which may be found at full
length even in Melancthon's Psychology, the four
fundamental humors are prepared in the liver
(second organic process after the first has taken
place in the stomach) ; out of the noblest humor,

96 PMlosopby in Poetry

the blood, the ' spiritus vitalis ' is prepared by a
new process in the heart; and this is finally (the
fourth and last process) in the cavities of the
brain refined into the ' spiritus animalis.' " When
our poet, in his refutation of the theory that
identifies the soul with the humors, asks the
question : —

" Who can in memory, or wit, or will,

Or ayre, orjire, or earth, or water finde ?
What alchymist can draw, with all his skil,
The quintessence of these, out of the mind ? "

he has undoubtedly in mind the four elements of
Empedocles, to which the chief humors of the
body were, by Galen and others before and after
him, supposed to correspond.2

The crass materialism which identified the mind
with these well-tempered humors of the body, was
obnoxious to Davies, and he repudiated it, giving
his reasons for so doing as stated above. In his
refutation of the theory he puts forth a view of the
relation of the soul to the body which is exceed-
ingly interesting. According to our poet, it is not

1 " History of Materialism," trans, by E. C. Thomas. Boston,
1877, Vol. I. pp. 237-238.

2 Cf. J. H. Bass, " Outlines of the History of Medicine," trans,
by H. E. Handerson. New York, 1899, pp. 101 sq. and 107 sq.

Reality of the Soul. — Materialism 97

the soul that is dependent on the body, but rather
the body that is dependent on the soul. The very
life of the body is derived from the soul. Without
the life-giving power of the soul, the body is dead.
Death is in fact the withdrawal of the soul from
the body. This theory of the relation of soul and
body is, however, not original with Davies. It is
taught by Nemesius. He says: "All confesse
there is a SOUL ; and if it be neither a Body, nor
an accident, it is manifest that it is a substance
without a body; and no such thing as cannot
stand by it selfe without a subject: For such
things may without the destruction of the subject
be either in the same, or absent; but if the SOUL
be separated from the body, that body must of
necessity be destroyed." 1

But this doctrine antedates Nemesius. It is a
fundamental point in Aristotle's psychology or
rather physiological psychology. He says : " The
soul then is the cause and basis of the body as
alive; and is so in each of the three senses in
which the word cause is used : that is to say it is
so both as the efficient cause from which move-
ment springs, as the end or final cause and as the
real or essential substance of animate bodies.

1 Op. cit., p. 182.
7 '

p& Philosophy in Poetry

" That the soul is so as essential substance is evi-
dent. In the case of all objects, the cause of their
existence constitutes their essential substance.
Now it is life which constitutes the existence of
all animals, and of these processes of life soul is
at once the cause and origin ; and further, in the
case of something which exists potentially, it is
the full realization which is the notion or essential
nature.

" It is equally clear that soul is cause in the
sense of end or final cause. Like reason, nature
acts for the sake of some object; and this object
is its end. Now in the animal world the soul is
naturally something of this character. All natural
bodies are instruments of the soul : and just as it
is with the bodies of animals so also is it with
those of plants, all being there simply for the sake
of soul. But in saying that the soul is the end or
final cause, we must remember that the word ' end '
is used in two senses, and must understand it as
meaning that at which a thing aims quite as much
as that for which it exists.

" Lastly, the soul is also cause as being the
original source of local movement, a faculty how-
ever which all creatures do not have. The soul
also exhibits phenomena of alteration and augmen-

Reality of the Soul. — Materialism 99

tation : for sensation is held to be a form of alter-
ation and nothing possesses this faculty of sense
unless it participate in soul. So also is it with
augmentation and decay : nothing decays or grows
in a natural manner except it receive nutrition:
and nothing is nurtured except it partake of life." 1

1 Op. cit., Bk. II. ch. iv. sees. 3-6.

CHAPTER VI
NATURE OF THE SOUL. — MATERIALISM

T TAVING thus endeavored to vindicate the
claims of the soul to a being of her own,
he proceeds to explain the nature of the soul.
Here again he crosses swords with the Materialist.
He affirms the soul to be a spirit — not, however,
like the air or wind, nor like the so-called " vital
spirits," nor like the spirits spoken of by the
alchemists. She surpasses "all natures vnder
heauen." She is like the spirits or heavenly in-
telligences who behold the face of God. Yea, she
is like God herself, originally bearing his image,
but having degenerated to such an extent as to
scarcely now constitute his shadow. She is supe-
rior to all " formes " knit to bodies. But although
joined to the body, she is " bodilesse and free,"
and though confined, she is almost infinite. She
cannot be a body, for if so, how could she be con-
tained in the body which is not so great as she —
how could she contain " the world's great shape "

Nature of the Soul. — Materialism 101

— how could she reflect or mirror the world ?
Bodies are subject to space relations — not so
with the soul. Instead of being confined to place,
she herself contains all places. It is impossible
for bodies to admit two forms at once without one
defacing the other; but the soul can admit ten
thousand forms, none intruding upon its neighbor's
place. All bodies are filled with other bodies.
The soul's " wide imbracements " cannot be filled,
for its capacity increases by acquisition. Things
take the proportions of things receiving them: —

" So little glasses little faces make,
And narrow webs on narrow frames be weau'd."

But not so with the soul. If she were a body, how
vast she would have to be to contain, as she does,
all sorts of corporeal objects, as, " men, beasts,
trees, towns, seas, and lands " : —

" And yet each thing a proper place doth find,
And each thing in the true proportion stands."

This were impossible to the mind were it not for
the fact that by some strange sublimation she
converts bodies into spirits. She abstracts the
forms from material bodies — she draws a sort of
" quintessence from things," which she transforms
into her own nature. This is manifest in her

IO2 Philosophy in Poetry

abstraction of universals from particular objects —
which universals are bodiless and immaterial in
their character and find a lodgment only in minds.
Again, were the mind a body it would be impos-
sible for her to know several bodies, just as it is
impossible for a mirror not free from all forms to
reflect several faces. Our eyes could not discern
all colors if they were not themselves void of
colors. Again, the quick movements of the mind
show her to be a spirit. She travels immense
distances in a moment of time. It is impossible
for a body to do so. The conclusion is, that
the soul is not a corporeal or bodily thing, but
rather an incorporeal, immaterial thing — a spiritual
agent : —

" As then the Soule a substance hath alone,
Besides the Body in which she is confin'd ;
So hath she not a body of her owne,
But is a spirit, and immateriall minde"

In the preceding consideration of Materialism
Davies gives no exposition of the doctrine. He
merely refutes the notion of regarding the soul
as a bodily thing. He may have in mind either
the views of Democritus, the Stoics, the Epi-
cureans, or Lucretius; or, indeed, the views of

Nature of the Soul. — Materialism 103

all of these philosophers ; for all of them affirm
the soul to be corporeal in its nature. Nemesius,
in refuting this theory, refers to all of the above
mentioned thinkers, except Lucretius.1 Davies
in dealing with Materialism makes use of two
arguments used by Nemesius, in discussing the
relation of soul and body, namely, (i) That body
is confined to place, whereas the soul is not.
(2) That body has dimensions, but the soul has
none. Nemesius says : " For, as the Sun, so soon
as it appeareth, changes the ayre into light; so
making it lightsome, and so diffusing it selfe with
the ayre, that it is united with the same, and yet
not confounded therewith : Even so, the soul be-
ing united with the Body, remaines without con-
fusion therewith ; differing in this onely, that the
Sunne being a Body, and circumscribed within
the compasse of Place, is not himselfe in every
place where his light is, but (as fire in the wood,
or as the flame in a candle) is confined to a cer-
taine place.

" It is not so with the soul. For, being void

of all Body, and not contained within the limits

of any place, it passeth all and whole, through

its own whole light, and through the whole Body,

i Op. cit., pp. 77-113.

JO4 Philosophy in Poetry

wherein it is ; neither is any part of it illuminated
thereby, wherein it is not fully and wholly present.
Neither is it in the body as in some bottle or other
vessell, nor compassed in by the same ; but the
Body is rather in the soule, and is thereby held in
and fastned together.

" For, intelligible things (such as the soul is)
are not hindred by bodily things; but, enter,
and pierce, and pass through every corporeall
thing, and cannot possibly bee contained within
the circumference of a bodily-place. Things in-
tellectuall, have their being in places also intelli-
gible; yea they are either in themselves, or else in
such intellectuall things, as are above themselves.

" The soul is otherwhile in it selfe; as, when it
reasoneth or considereth of things; and otherwhile
in the understanding; as, when it conceiveth any
thing: And when it is said to bee in the body,
it is not said to be there, as in place ; but, to be
as it were in a certaine relation to the body; and
to bee present with it in such a sense, as, God is
said to be in us." 1

Thus far Nemesius shows that body is confined
to place ; but not so with the soul. And he
further points out that body has dimensions, but
1 Op. cit., pp. 197-200.

Nature of the Soul. — Materialism 105

the soul has not: " For," he continues, "wee say
that the soul is bound (as it were) by a certaine
disposition and inclination, as the lover is to his
beloved: not bound in place, or as bodies are
bound ; but by the habituall bands of affection.
And indeed, seeing it hath neither magnitude,
nor massinesse, nor parts, how can it be enclosed
by a speciall place ? Or within what place can
that bee contained, which hath no parts f Where
place is, there must needs bee a massinesse ; be-
cause place is the Bound which compasseth
another thing; and hath its being in respect of
that which it encloseth." 1

Davies argues similarly, but more briefly : —

" All bodies are confin'd within some place,
But she all place within her selfe confines ;
•All bodies haue their measure, and their space,
But who can draw the Souths dimensiue lines? "

It would seem, especially in view of what will
appear later, that here again Davies had recourse
to Nemesius.

The last argument against regarding the soul

as body, which Davies makes use of, based on

the swiftness of the soul's movements, may be

found also in Calvin. The theologian, in endeav-

1 Op. cit, pp. 200-201.

io6 Philosophy in Poetry

oring to show that the soul cannot be identified
with body, says : " But the swiftness with which
the human mind glances from heaven to earth,
scans the secrets of nature, and, after it has em-
braced all ages, with intellect and memory digests
each in its proper order, and reads the future in
the past, clearly demonstrates that there lurks in
man a something separated from the body." *
Davies says : —

** If lastly, this quicke power a body were,
Were it as swift as is the winde or fire ;
(Whose atomies doe th' one down side-waies beare,
And make the other in pyramids aspire :)

" Her nimble body yet in time must moue,

And not in instants through all places slide ;
But she is nigh, and farre, beneath, aboue,
In point of time, which thought cannot deuide:

"She is sent as soone to China as to Spaine,
And thence returnes, as soone as shee is sent;
She measures with one time, and with one paine,
An ell of silke, and heauen's wide spreading tent."

Davies's refutation of Materialism is, of course,
crude. But we must remember that he was deal-
ing with a crude Materialism. It was not such
a doctrine as we meet with in nineteenth and
twentieth century scientific Materialism. It was
1 Op. cit., Bk. I. ch. xv. sec. 2.

Nature of the Soul. — Materialism 107

not a theory formed in the light of the doctrines
of the conservation of energy, and biological evo-
lution, or in the light of modern brain physiology.
Davies took Materialism as he found it, and met
its disciples on their own ground, — how success-
fully the reader may judge for himself. But in
taking his stand on the side of a spiritualistic
philosophy — in affirming the reality of mind as
distinguished from matter, he has identified him-
self with the main current of speculative thought.
In carefully reviewing the history of philosophy
one cannot fail to be impressed with the poverty
of Materialism. As compared with a spiritualistic
philosophy — either in the form of Dualism or
Idealism — it plays an inferior part in the history
of speculative thought. It is true it had a flourish-
ing career in Greek and Graeco-Roman thought.
But as one compares pre-Socratic materialistic
philosophy with the Socratic, Platonic, and Aris-
totelian philosophy, in which the spiritual nature
of mind is recognized, he will be impressed with
the poverty of the former and the richness of the
latter. Likewise, if he makes a comparison be-
tween the Stoic and Epicurean Materialism and
the philosophy of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle a
similar impression prevails. Ancient Materialism is

io8 Philosophy in Poetry

not rich in great names or great systems. Again,
for fifteen centuries of the Christian era Materi-
alism had scarcely a representative of note.1 In-
deed, from Epicurus and Lucretius to Descartes
— the founder of modern philosophy — it hardly
receives mention by historians of philosophy.
Whereas, much of early Christian philosophy,
and Scholastic philosophy also, were, of course,
spiritualistic in character. The case is essentially
the same in Modern as in Ancient Philosophy.
From Descartes through Spinoza, Malebranche,
Geulincx, Leibnitz, and Wolff, to Kant, on the
Continent; and from Locke, through Berkeley,
and Hume (Idealistic Sensationalism), to Reid,
in Great Britain, philosophy has either been dual-
istic or idealistic — affirming in either case the
reality of mind. During this period, Materialism
was represented by Gassendi, Hobbes, Toland,
Priestley, the Encyclopaedists (?), La Mettrie, and
d'Holbach. To the student of the history of phi-
losophy the two movements of thought hardly
admit of comparison so far as their significance
is concerned. The former is the great stream

1 There was more or less Materialism in early Christian specu-
lative thought. This was doubtless due to a considerable extent
to the influence of the Stoics.

Nature of the Soul. — Materialism log

of modern speculative thought flowing in this
period ; the latter is a small current flowing along-
side or through it. And, if anything, the contrast
is more marked in the history of philosophical
thought from Kant to the present day. The
dominant character of philosophy since Kant has
been idealistic. The great systems of Fichte,
Schelling, Hegel, Schopenhauer, Von Hartmann,
and Lotze, testify to this fact. They pre-eminently
constitute the main current of Modern Philosophy.
Dualism also during this period, as manifest in the
development of Scottish philosophy from Reid
to Hamilton, constitutes no insignificant current.
True, this period witnessed the birth of a more
" scientific " Materialism than that of preceding
thought. The rapid development of the natural
sciences, the wide acceptance of the theories of
evolution, and of the correlation of forces, the
mechanical explanation of phenomena, and the
progress in nerve and brain physiology — all of
these things gave rise to a materialistic view of
the world and the soul. The more speculative
representatives of this movement in Germany
were Moleschott, Vogt, Btichner, Haeckel, and
others. In France it has had comparatively few
representatives of note. Probably Cabanis may

no Philosophy in Poetry

be called its most distinguished exponent there.
And it may be questioned whether he really
teaches a philosophical Materialism. In Great
Britain Materialism is taught more by implication
than as a scientific or philosophical dogma. It
is certainly an implication of the teachings of
Spencer and Huxley, and possibly of Tyndall.
Professor Flint accurately states the case as fol-
lows : " In England, Mr. Herbert Spencer, Pro-
fessors Huxley and Tyndall, and a few other
writers of distinguished philosophical or scientific
talents, have done far more to diffuse materialism
than any of those who are willing to avow them-
selves materialists. Never was materialism more
fortunate than when it secured to itself the sym-
pathy and support of minds so vigorous and so
richly gifted." *

This, briefly, and in a general way, has been the
history of Materialism as compared with Dualism
and Idealism. Its comparative poverty of history
is due to the inherent poverty of its cause. The
utter inability thus far of even a so-called " scien-
tific " Materialism to explain conscious life on the
basis of the molecular activity of the brain ; the

1 " Anti-Theistic Theories." Edinburgh and London, 1877,
Appendix, Note xv.

Nature of the Soul. — Materialism in

utter unlikeness of neural and psychic activity
when subjecte'd to the closest and most thorough
examination, make, in the writer's judgment, the
words of Du Bois-Reymond eminently true : " I
will now prove conclusively, as I believe, that not
only is consciousness unexplained by material con-
ditions in the present state of our science (which all
will admit), but that, in the very nature of things, it
never can be explained by these conditions. The
most exalted mental activity is no more incompre-
hensible in its material conditions than is the first
grade of consciousness — namely, sensation. With
the first awakening of pleasure and pain experi-
enced upon earth by some creature of the simplest
structure appeared an impassable gulf, and the
world became doubly incomprehensible." 1

We have seen, then, that Davies in affirming the
essential reality of the psychic in opposition to
Materialism is in the current of the world's pro-
foundest thought. But in his efforts to vindicate
the essential selfhood or being of the soul, he failed
to deal with a more formidable opposition than
Materialism, namely, Pantheistic Idealism ; or,
better, Idealistic Pantheism. Such Pantheism is a

1 " Ueber die Grenzen des Naturerkennens," pp. 20, 21.
Quoted from Flint, op. cit., Appendix, Note xviii.

H2 Philosophy in Poetry

thorough-going Monism — affirming mind to be
the only reality, but cancelling the reality of the
finite mind — it being merely a mode of the Abso-
lute, or the Absolute coming to consciousness.
At best, then, the finite mind has merely a phe-
nomenal existence. It has no being-for-self — no
real selfhood. Of such a theory Davies hardly
seems conscious. At least he does not consider
it. And yet, in a philosophy of mind, it is not
sufficient to prove the reality of the spiritual or
psychic as against the claims of Materialism ; but
also, if possible, to vindicate the right of the
human soul to a being of its own, in opposition
to the claims of Idealistic Pantheism. The latter
undertaking is a much more difficult task than the
former.

Davies's conception of the essential reality and
individuality of the soul is more in harmony with
Christian theology than with Greek Philosophy.
In this respect he was probably influenced more
by Nemesius and Calvin and his general Christian
teaching than by Greek thought. For in Greek
Philosophy the distinction between the human soul
and the Divine Intelligence, and the World-Soul,
is nowhere as sharply drawn as it is in Davies's
philosophy, especially as involved in his doctrine

Nature of the Soul. — Materialism

of creation, which he presents later. Nor is the
distinction between soul and body as sharply de-
fined by Aristotle, to whom our poet was so much
indebted, as in Davies's thought. Such views as
he expresses on this subject represent in the main
the prevailing thought of Christian Theology from
Augustine to the present day (with some notable
exceptions). Since Augustine, Christian Theol-
ogy in its ontology has not, as a rule, been monis-
tic. It has usually taught the existence of three
distinct realities, — God, the created material world
(including the animal and human organism), and
the created human soul. This is undoubtedly the
view that underlies Davies's philosophy.

If we turn to Modern Philosophy, we find that,
in the pre-Kantian period, the essential being or
individuality of the soul is affirmed by Descartes,1
Malebranche,2 Leibnitz,3 Wolff,4 Locke,5 Berkeley,6
Reid,7 and other philosophers of less distinction.
Kant himself, in the Critique of Pure Reason (in

1 " Second Meditation."

2 « De la Recherche de la Verite," Liv. III. ii. 1-3.

8 " Monadology." See also " Letter to Wagner on the Active
Force of Body, on the Soul," etc.

4 " Latin Works : Psychologia rationalis."

5 " Essay on Human Understanding," Bk. II., ch. xxvii.

6 " Principles of Human Knowledge."

7 " Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man," Essay I. ch. iv.

U4 Philosophy in Poetry

the Transcendental Dialectic especially), regards
the soul as a noumenon — a transcendental reality
— a reality unknown to the pure reason. But in
the Critique of Practical Reason he makes the soul
and its immortality a reality known through the
practical reason or moral consciousness. From
Kant to Von Hartmann German philosophy is
mainly Idealistic Pantheism. In the philosophy
of Fichte, and also of Hegel, Schopenhauer, and
Von Hartmann, the human soul is in some way
or other identified with the Absolute.1 It is not
regarded as having a real, distinct being of its
own. Since Kant, Lotze is probably the most
distinguished German philosopher who has main-
tained the self-being of the finite soul.2

The above briefly indicates the attitude of the
more important philosophical and theological
thought towards the position which Davies so
positively affirmed; namely, the spiritual self-
being of the human soul.

1 Cf. Windelband, " A History of Philosophy," trans, by J. H.
Tufts, 2d ed., Chicago, 1900, Pt. VI. ch. ii., for a brief account of
the development of German Idealism.

2 See especially his " Mikrokosmus," II Buch, c. i, 2.

CHAPTER VII

ORIGIN OF THE SOUL IN CONNECTION WITH
THE BODY

T^ROM the discussion of the reality and nature
of the soul, the poet turns to the considera-
tion of that difficult and much mooted question
(especially in theological circles) of the mode of
the soul's origin. How does the soul come into
being? Assuming, as Davies does, that it has its
ultimate origin in God, the real question with him
is, the origin of the soul in its connection with the
body. He considers three theories of the origin
of the soul — Pre-existence, Creationism, and
Traducianism. The Church Father, Origen, in his
commentary on Canticles, has given a very clear
statement of the nature of these theories. He
says : " The question is, first, whether the human
spirit is created, or has existed from the beginning
(pre-existence) ; next, if created, whether it was
created once for all, and connected in such a way
with the body as to be propagated, along with it,

n6 Philosophy in Poetry .

by natural generation (traducianism), or whether
it is created successively, and, in each individual
case, added from without, in order to vivify the
body forming in the womb (creationism)." *

Of these three theories, Davies accepts Crea-
tionism, with a slight modification of the form
presented by Origen. In taking this position, he
at first merely states the theory and his acceptance
of it, without an argument to substantiate his
views. The reasons for its acceptance are pre-
sented later. He states his own position as
follows : —

" Since body and soule haue such diuersities,

Well might we muse, how first their match began,
But that we learne, that He that spread the skies,
And fixt the Earth, first form'd the soule in man.

" This true Prometheus first made Man of earth,
And shed in him a beame of heauenly fire ;
Now in their mother's wombs before their birth,
Doth in all sonnes of men their soules inspire.

«' And as Minerua is in fables said,

From loue, without a mother to proceed ;
So our true loue, without a mother's ay'd,
Doth daily millions of Mineruas breed."

In other words, every individual soul is an abso-
lute, immediate creation on the part of God; and

1 Schaff-Herzog Religious Encyclopaedia, etc. New York,
1882, Vol. I. pp. 569-570.

Origin of the Soul 7/7

is breathed into the body with which it is to be
associated while yet in the mother's womb. Vio-
lent as this hypothesis is, it seems much more
acceptable to him than either of the opposing
theories.

With this statement of his position, he first con-
siders the doctrine of Pre-existence. He argues,
that God did not create all souls at once, either
" from eternitie before," or " from the time when
Timds first point begun," which he keeps in some
other sphere, or housed in some secret cloister,
until the day of their marriage with the body.
Neither is that form of the theory which involves
the transmigration of souls, or metempsychosis,
true. God did not first create a number of
souls, —

" Infusing part in beasts^ and part in men"

and so ordain that at the death of the body the
soul should be married to another body, —

" And so by often changing and supplying,
Men's sorties to beasts, and beasts to men did passe."

This theory must be repudiated. Were it true,
thousands of bodies " must be abortiue, and for-
lorne," before they receive souls through the death
of other bodies, because the number of bodies
born exceeds by far the number of bodies that die.

Ji8 Philosophy in Poetry

Over against this theory of Pre-existence and
metempsychosis, Davies sets his own theory of
Creationism. Just as Nature, God's handmaid,
creates bodies in distinct time, and in due order, —

" So God giues soules the like successiue date,
Which Himselfe makes, in bodies formed new."

He strongly emphasizes the supposed fact that
God himself creates the soul, and does so directly
— not through secondary causes. He does not
delegate this power either to angels or to Nature.
Especially does he call attention to the fact that
Nature's services are not utilized in bringing the
soul into being. For, although she can derive
bodies from bodies, she could never derive souls
from souls. This would be an impossibility.

After thus again affirming the Creationist's view,
he takes into consideration the objection urged
against this theory by Traducianism. There were
those — revered Church Fathers — " great lights
of old " — whose eyes were dimmed with religious
fear, who opposed the doctrine of Creationism,
substituting for it the doctrine of Traducianism.
The religious fear which constituted the ground of
their objection, arose from the supposed bearing
of this view on the doctrine of original sin. The
poet interprets this objection as follows; —

Origin of the Soul 7/9

We are taught by Rule of Faith that every soul
united to a human body is born in sin — bringing
the " sinne of kind " from the mother's womb. To
affirm that God creates the soul directly, and not
through secondary causes, is to make him author
of the soul's sin, for sin began in the soul of man.
If the soul of man is by nature corrupt, as the
dogma of original sin affirms, and if we hold that
it is an immediate creation of God, then we affirm
either that God first creates it corrupt, which
seems sacrilegious, or that the body corrupts it.
But the body, of itself, has no such power. It was
the soul, and not the body, of Adam that sinned,
and thus brought corruption to itself. And the
soul born to-day suffers the consequences. It
participated in Adam's sin. It comes into being
corrupt — it is corrupt before it sins in act or
thought. This being so, God can only be relieved
of the responsibility for man's original sin — for
man's natural corruption, on the supposition or
ground that every human soul is a derivation from
the parent soul through propagation. And this is
what Traducianism affirms. It affirms, also, that
Creationism, on the other hand, logically implies
responsibility on the part of God for original sin ;
that is, for the supposed fact that every man is
born in sin.

I2O Philosophy in Poetry

This is the objection of Traducianism. Davies
now argues for Creationism, giving reasons for
belief in this doctrine, and endeavoring to meet
the objection of Traducianism with reference to
the bearing of the doctrine of original sin on it.

No one, he says, is so gross as to contend, that
the soul is derived from the body. But many
subtle minds have contended that souls spring
from other souls. This view, however, is erro-
neous. There are reasons which evidence this.
These reasons the poet sets forth as follows : —

All created things are either created from noth-
ing, or from ready-made stuff. No creature ever
formed aught from nothing. Such power belongs
alone to God. If then a soul beget a soul, it must
beget it from stuff or matter. But the soul con-
tains no such matter. If the soul be not created
from matter, it must be created from nothing.
But, as has been stated, God alone possesses such
power. Hence, one finite soul cannot create
another.

Again, if souls possess the power of begetting
souls, then they must do so either by an exercise
of their own power or by an exercise of the power
of the body. If by their own power, what should
hinder them creating souls every hour? If by

Origin of the Soul 121

the body's power, why can reason and will unite
with the body only in this one specific act, since
they " abstract " themselves from the body in the
performance of other offices or functionings?

Again, such a view makes against the immor-
tality of the soul, for it predicates change and
motion of the soul, and change and motion bear
the marks of corruption, that is, of destructibility.

Again, if souls beget other souls, then the
seed they sow should be incorruptible, that is,
indestructible.1 What then becomes of seed
sown in acts of generation from which there is
no issue?

Furthermore, only mortal things desire to beget
other beings so as to immortalize their kind or
perpetuate their species. Souls being immortal,
would, therefore, even though possessed of the
power of begetting other souls, not exercise it,
because as immortal they would not be impelled
by a desire to immortalize their kind. Hence,
angels, who are immortal, do not marry. The
conclusion is, that God, and not man, is the
creator of spirits.

But what of the objection of the Traducianist?
Davies considers the objection at length, and en-

1 Davies here assumes the natural immortality of the soul

/22 Philosophy in Poetry

deavors to reconcile Creationism with the dogma
of original sin. God, he argues, created the soul
pure and joined it to the body. However, its
union with the body does not corrupt it. Still
it is corrupt — even in the mother's womb. It
is corrupt even before it can judge or choose.
But God is not the author of this corruption.
From all eternity He decreed all things. He
decreed that every man should be and live his
life. He decreed all human souls to be, and to be
incarnate. This eternal plan or decree was not
to be set aside by the prospect or certainty of
sin. If we knew God's purpose in creation this
discordant element of man's sin might be seen to
make for rather than against harmony. If we
could see how death is the result of sin, but also
" how from death, a better life doth rise " ; and
how this teaches the justice and mercy of God,
we should praise his decree " as right and wise."
But the trouble is, that we must see part by part,
instead of having an intuition of the whole. We
must see things successively instead of simul-
taneously. God, however, sees things differently.
His sight is not of things in part, or in succession,
or in degrees. With Him all things and all events
are an immediate vision. It is the whole that

Origin of the Soul 123

stands immediately before His gaze. He sees
" all men as one Man." He sees them as a tree
of which Adam is the root and his heirs the
branches. If the root be corrupted, the branches
will partake of the corruption. Or, He sees all
men as a river, of which Adam is the well or
fountain-head, and his posterity the streams. Pol-
lute the fountain-head, and the streams partake
of the pollution. This is really the kind of head-
ship there is in Adam. This is the manner in
which his sin extends to us. It is not personal
sin. It is " sinne of kind," for we are partakers
of his nature. It is hereditary sin. And it is
because our natures are " parts " of his nature,
that the guilt and punishment of his sin pass to
us " by course of Nature, and of Law." By
course not only of Nature, but also of Law, for
Law makes no distinction between whole and
part : —

" So was the first transgression generall,
And all did plucke the fruit and all did tast."

We have a reflection of this Divine Law in human
law, where thousands of men are regarded as one
man — all bound together in "one Corporation."
These thousands and their successors constitute
but one, and, as the former gain or lose, they not

124 Philosophy in Poetry

only harm or profit themselves, but also the latter.
In other words, human law visits the punishment
and rewards of parents upon their children and
their children's children — treating all as one.
Yet we call not this unjust on the part of man.
Shall we then accuse God because of His decree
whereby the descendants of Adam partake of the
guilt and penalty of his sin?

And now what really constitutes this original sin
or " sinne of kind"? It is the deprivation of the
soul of the native virtues and powers which God
gave to Adam and his race. These constituted
God's grace to man. The withdrawal of this grace
results in a " declining pronenesse imto nought''
Furthermore, being thus deprived of her native
virtues, vices spring up to take their places.

But by what means are Adam's descendants
thus deprived of these native virtues and made
subject to these vices, if God himself immedi-
ately creates each soul? The poet answers, that
God creates each soul fair and good, but when it
unites with the body, which union constitutes the
man, who is Adam's heir, then God withdraws his
grace from it. It thus loses its " rich dowry "
of native virtues, and vices grow up in their
stead. And this is not unjust on the part of God.

Origin of the Soul 125

For, if a man receive " on light conditions " a
large estate for himself and heirs, who bemoans
the heirs, or blames the giver, if the man wil-
fully forfeits it?

Nor is this inheritance of sin a strange thing in
the light of God's redemptive action in Christ,
whose justice and grace are imparted to those
who are unjust and without grace.

And, lastly, it were better for the soul to be
born a slave to sin, rather than not exist at all.
Since, by faith she may be set free, and " mount
the higher for her fall."

Still it may be asked, if God foresaw men's fall,
why did he not prevent it? The answer is, that
this were to cancel man's personality. In other
words, it were to declare that " Man no man shall
bee'' For free will or self-determination is of the
very essence of personality : —

" For what is Man without a moouing mind,

Which hath a Judging wit, and chusing will f "

God made man to know and love his Maker. But
a forced, involuntary love could never be grateful
or thankworthy. Furthermore, if we were pos-
sessed of unchangeable will and unerring wit, we
should be guilty of self-esteem. Again, if man
were unchangeable, he must either be God, " or

126 Philosophy in Poetry

like a root or tree," for even the angels are more
unstable and had a greater fall than man. Let
us be thankful then that we are men, and rest
content, knowing that curiosity was man's fall,
and let us admire the unknowable counsels of
God. And further —

" let vs know that God the Maker is
Of all the Soules, in all the men that be;
Yet their corruption is no fault of His,
But the first man's that broke God's first decree."

Thus the poet disposes of the objection of
Traducianism to Creationism growing out of the
dogma of original sin. Davies finds no difficulty
in his own mind of freeing God from responsi-
bility for man's supposed birth in sin. On this
much mooted question of theology, then, con-
cerning the mode of the soul's origin in its rela-
tion to the body, Davies contends that every soul
is an immediate creation on the part of God, on
occasion of the conception of a body, and is united
to the body in its pre-natal state.

The question of the origin of the soul in its
relation to the body has been largely, although not
exclusively, associated with the problem of sin in
the history of speculative thought. The theory of

Origin of the Soul 727

Pre-existence, as well as the theories of Creation-
ism and Traducianism, has been brought forward
as a probable explanation of this difficult question.
The doctrine of Pre-existence figures more or less
conspicuously in Greek philosophy. It can be
traced to Pythagoras and his school. Herodotus
says that the Greeks borrowed it from the Egyp-
tians.1 But this statement is open to question, as
the doctrine was an Orphic tradition. With the
Pythagoreans the soul, prior to its incarnation,
existed in a higher realm. The transmigration
of souls was associated with evil doing. Souls
descended into bodies of animals as a punishment
for sin.2 Zeller, one of the ablest and most reli-
able of historians of Greek philosophy, attributes
the doctrine also to Heracleitus, one of the early
Greek philosophers.3 The doctrine is also taught
by Empedocles in his famous philosophical poem
entitled On Nature. In the teaching of this poet-
philosopher the doctrine is also associated with
sin. We next find the doctrine taught by Plato.
Although it is taught in a number of his works, it
is in the Phcedo that we find an especially interest-

1 Bk. II. 123.

2 "Diogenes Laertius," Bk. VIII. 19.

8 " Pre-Socratic Philosophy," trans, by S. F. Alleyne. Lon-
don, 1881, Vol. II. p. 87.

728 Philosophy in Poetry

ing development of it.1 Plato founds the doctrine
on the fact of recollection, or reminiscence. He
represents Cebes in his conversation with Socrates
as saying : " Your favorite doctrine, Socrates, that
knowledge is simply recollection, if true, also neces-
sarily implies a previous time in which we learned
that which we now recollect. But this would be
impossible unless our soul was in some place
before existing in the human form."2 We are
taught in this doctrine of recollection that our
sense-perceptions are copies of Ideas which the
soul perceived in a pre-existent state. But Plato's
doctrine also involves a migration of souls as a
penalty for sin — a migration through human and
animal bodies.3 Later, Pre-existence is taught by
the Neo-Pythagoreans, whose anthropology is es-
sentially that of Plato.4 Still later it is found in
the works of Philo Judaeus, who was greatly influ-
enced by Plato. In Philo Pre-existence is asso-
ciated with the fact of sin. His teaching involves
transmigration as a punishment and means of

1 Cf. " Phajdo," 73.

2 "The Dialogues of Plato, Phaedo," trans, by B. Jowett.
New York, 1885, Vol. I. p. 399.

8 " Phaedo," 81, 82 sq.

4 Zeller, "Outlines of the History of Greek Philosophy,"
trans, by Alleyne and Abbott. New York, 1886, p. 309.

Origin of the Soul 729

purification.1 Again, there is quite an elaborate
development of the doctrine in Plotinus, who also
reveals the influence of Plato. According to him
the soul in the pre-existent state was powerfully
impelled from within itself to the body. Its incar-
nation represents a moral Fall.2 Porphyry taught
migration of souls from human bodies to other
human bodies.3

When we turn to Christian thought we find the
doctrine taught by the Church Father, Origen.
He was also under the influence of Greek thought.
The soul, according to him, sinned in a pre-existent
state, and its incarnation is the penalty for its sin.*
It may be found also in the writings of Cyril of
Alexandria,5 Nemesius,6 and Prudentius.7

In Jewish literature there are, in the Talmud,
suggestions of a doctrine of pre-existence in the
form of souls existing archetypally in the Divine

1 "The Works of Philo Judseus," trans, by C. D. Yonge,
London, 1854; cf. especially "A Treatise on the Giants/' Vol. I.
sees. 2 and 3, also, " A Treatise on the Doctrine that Dreams are
Sent from God," Vol. II. Bk. I. sec. 22.

2 " Ennead," IV. 6.

8 Augustine, "De Civitate Dei," X. 30.

4 " De Principiis," I. c. vii. 4, 5.

6 " Commentarium in Evangelium Joannis," IV.

6 " De Natura Hominis," c. ii.

7 " Liber Cathemerinon," X. v.

9

ijo Philosophy in Poetry

mind ; and, in the Middle Ages, we find it taught
as a positive doctrine in the Kabbala * and certain
Rabbinical writings. Indeed, here the doctrine
assumes essentially the form of the doctrine which
Davies refutes ; namely, a storehouse of pre-exist-
ent souls destined to occupy human bodies.

This briefly is the history of the doctrine of
Pre-existence prior to the time of our poet. It is
interesting to note that it appears again later in
English literature. Henry More revives it in his
philosophical poem on the Immortality of the Soul
(II. 12). It is not uncommon in nineteenth cen-
tury English poetry, although here it is not asso-
ciated with a doctrine of sin. It is to be found in
one of its Platonic aspects in Wordsworth's Inti-
mations of Immortality from Recollections of Early
Childhood. It is brought forward by Tennyson
in The Two Voices (even in its transmigration
aspect), De Profundis, Idylls of the King, and The
Ancient Sage. Browning affirms it in his Cristina,
and Mrs. Browning suggests it in Aurora Leigh.
We even find it taught in recent German theol-
ogy. Julius Miiller in his Lehre von der Sundc?
teaches a moral Fall of man in a timeless state.
As we have seen, Davies could not accept the

1 " Zohar," I. 19. 2 IV. c. iv. §§ 1-3.

Origin of the Soul ijr

doctrine. To him it was an unsatisfactory theory
of the origin of the soul in its connection with the
body. He disposes of it with little argumentation,
and puts in its stead the doctrine of a successive
creation of souls to parallel a successive formation
of bodies — each soul uniting with the body as it
is formed in the mother's womb : —

" But as God's handmaid, Nature, doth create
Bodies in time distinct, and order due ;
So God giues soules the like successiue date,
Which Himselfe makes, in bodies formed new."

Creationism and Traducianism have played a
much more important part in the history of
speculative thought than has the doctrine of Pre-
existence. They have been associated with the
dogma of original sin in Christian theology. Crea-
tionism found wide acceptance in early Christian
speculative thought. Clement of Alexandria
taught the doctrine.1 It was held also by Lactan-
tius.2 It was advocated by Theodoret,3 also by
Hilary.4 On the other hand, Tertullian taught
Traducianism — defending it on both philosophical

1 " Stromata," VI. 16.

2 " Institutiones Divin«e," III. 18.

3 " Graecarum Affectionum Curatio," V.
* " Tractatus super Psalmos," XLI. 3.

Philosophy in Poetry

and scriptural grounds.1 It was maintained also
by Gregory of Nyssa ; 2 also by Athanasius.3
Augustine is not explicit in his teaching concern-
ing the question of the mode of the soul's origin
in connection with the body. He did not commit
himself positively to either doctrine. However,
his doctrine of sin seems to imply Traducianism.4

Among the Schoolmen the verdict was almost
unanimous in favor of Creationism. Among the
more prominent of these famous thinkers who
favored the doctrine were : Anselm,5 Hugo of St.
Victor,6 Bonaventura,7 and Thomas Aquinas.8

In the sixteenth century Creationism was still
the favorite doctrine in Catholic circles. This is
also the case in Protestant Theology despite the
fact that Luther leaned toward Traducianism.

Creationism was early affirmed by the Formula
Concordice* and the doctrine is usually attributed

1 "De Anima/'XXV.

2 " De Hominis Opificio," XXIX.
8 " Oratio contra Arianos," II. 48.

* "De Civitate Dei," XI.-XIII.j also " De Gratia Christi
et de Peccato Original!."

5 " De Conceptu Virginali," VII.

6 " De Sacramentis Christianae Fidei," I. vii.

7 " Breviloq." III. 6.

8 "Summa Theologize," I. 118.

9 Arts. I., II.

Origin of the Soul

to Calvin, although he is not very pronounced in
his views.1 The Reformed theologians, however,
generally taught the doctrine. In the seventeenth
century Traducianism was quite universally ac-
cepted among Lutheran theologians. Prominent
among these were Gerhard,2 of the University of
Jena, Caloveus,3 of Wittenberg, and Hollaz,4 of
Jacobshagen. On the other hand the Calvinists
favored Creationism. Since the seventeenth cen-
tury there has been a great difference of opinion
in the Protestant world, often, indeed, in the same
denomination.5 Of late years a theory has been
advanced by Martensen and Dorner, which is of
the nature of a compromise. The former holds
that there is a truth in both Creationism and
Traducianism.6 And Dorner even combines the
doctrine of Pre-existence with Creationism and
Traducianism. He says : " Each one of these
theories represents one aspect of the whole truth,
— Traducianism generic consciousness, Pre-exist-

1 " Institutes of the Christian Religion," Vol. I. Bk. II. ch. i.

2 " Loci Theologise," IX. 8, 116-117.

8 " Systema Locorum Theolog.," etc., III. Art. V. 2.
* " Examen Theologicum," etc., I. 5.

5 Compare, for example, such recent writers as Hodge, " Sys-
tematic Theology," II. iii. 3, and Shedd, " Dogmatic Theology,"
ILL

6 "Dogmatics," trans., pp. 162-163.

/ 34 Philosophy in Poetry

entianism self-consciousness or the interest of the
personality as a separate eternal divine thought,
. . . Creationism God-consciousness. Nothing
but the union of these three elements is sufficient.
But the union must not be so conceived as if there
were a mechanical division of the process between
God, the genus, and the element of personality." 1

This briefly has been the course of thought on
this question of the origin of the soul in its rela-
tion to the body. Davies in adopting the theory
of Creationism was undoubtedly influenced by six-
teenth century theology. Especially is Calvin's
influence manifest in his thinking on this subject,
and more particularly so in his somewhat elaborate
consideration of the objection of Traducianism to
Creationism based on the dogma of original sin.
A comparison of the views of the theologian and
poet on this point will make this evident: —

In the first place, they agree in their treatment
of the Fall of man in affirming the essential unity
of the race. They represent Adam as the " root "
and " fountain head " of man. They affirm, that
corruption of the root, involved corruption of the
branches; and that pollution of the fountain,

1 " System of Christian Doctrine," trans, by Cave and Banks,
Vol. II. sec. 43.

Origin of the Soul

involved pollution of the streams. Calvin says:
" We thus see that the impurity of parents is trans-
mitted to their children, so that all, without excep-
tion, are originally depraved. The commencement
of this depravity will not be found until we ascend
to the first parent of all as the fountain head. We
must, therefore, hold it for certain, that, in regard
to human nature, Adam was not merely a progeni-
tor, but, as it were, a root, and that, accordingly,
by his corruption, the whole human race was de-
servedly vitiated." l

Davies, referring to Adam's sin, says : —

** He [God] lookes on Adam, as a root, or well,

And on his heires, as branches, and as streames ;
He sees all men as one Man, though they dwell
In sundry cities, and in sundry realmes :

" And as the roote and branch are but one tree,

And well and streame doe but one riuer make ;

So, if the root and well corrupted bee,

The streame and branch the same corruption take :

" So, when the root and fountaine of Mankind

Did draw corruption, and God's curse, by sin ;
This was a charge that all his heires did bind,
And all his offspring grew corrupt therein."

Again, with both writers, original sin means
hereditary sin. Calvin says : " Original sin, then,
1 Op. cit., Bk. II. ch. i. sec. 6.

136 Philosophy in Poetry

may be defined an hereditary corruption and de-
pravity of our nature, extending to all the parts
of the soul, which first makes us obnoxious to the
wrath of God, and then produces in us works which
in Scripture are termed works of the flesh." 1
Davies also affirms : —

" So Adam's sinne to the whole kind extends ;
For all their natures are but part of his."

"Therefore this sinne of kind, not personall,
But reall and hereditary was."

Again, both writers affirm that original sin in-
volves not merely punishment for us, but also
actual guilt. Even the child in the mother's womb
is a sinful, guilty, condemned soul. Calvin says:
" Hence, even infants bringing their condemnation
with them from their mother's womb, suffer not for
another's, but for their own defect. For although
they have not yet produced the fruits of their own
unrighteousness, they have the seed implanted in
them. Nay, their whole nature is, as it were, a
seed-bed of sin, and therefore cannot but be odious
and abominable to God. Hence it follows, that it
is properly deemed sinful in the sight of God ; for
there could be no condemnation without guilt."2

1 Op. cit., Bk. II. ch. i. sec. 8.

2 Ibid.

Origin of the Soul

Davies subscribes to this view of infant guilt and
condemnation : —

" And yet this Soule (made good by God at first,
And not corrupted by the bodie's ill)
Euen in the wombe is sinfull, and accurst,
Ere shee can iudge by wit or chuse by will"

And, again, showing how we are involved in guilt
and punishment, he says : —

" The guilt whereof, and punishment to all,

By course of Nature, and of Law doth passe."

Still another point concerning original sin in
which both writers agree is, that the soul is not
only stripped of its native virtues, but that many
vices take their place. On this point Calvin
affirms : " After the heavenly image in man was
effaced, he not only was himself punished by a
withdrawal of the ornaments in which he had been
arrayed, viz., wisdom, virtue, justice, truth, and
holiness, and by the substitution in their place of
those dire pests, blindness, impotence, vanity, im-
purity, and unrighteousness, but he involved his
posterity also, and plunged them in the same
wretchedness." a

1 Op. cit., Bk. II. ch. i. sec. 5.

ijS Philosophy in Poetry

In similar vein Davies writes : —

" Yet not alone the first good qualities,

Which in the first soule were, deprived are ;
But in their place the contrary doe rise,
And reall spots of sinne her beauty marre."

Furthermore, Calvin and Davies agree in affirm-
ing that original sin in no way impeaches the
justice of God. Calvin says: "That being thus
perverted and corrupted in all the parts of our
nature, we are, merely on account of such cor-
ruption, deservedly condemned by God, to whom
nothing is acceptable but righteousness, innocence,
and purity . . . The blame of our ruin rests
with our own carnality, not with God, its only
cause being our degeneracy from our original
condition. . . . Let us remember that our ruin
is attributable to our own depravity, that we may
not insinuate a charge against God himself, the
Author of nature. It is true that nature has re-
ceived a mortal wound, but there is a great differ-
ence between a wound inflicted from without, and
one inherent in our first condition. It is plain that
this wound was inflicted by sin; and, therefore,
we have no ground of complaint except against
ourselves." *

1 Op. cit., Bk. II. ch. i. sees. 8, 10.

Origin of the Soul

We have seen above how earnestly Davies insists
upon the justice of God in answer to the objec-
tion of Traducianism to Creationism growing
out of the doctrine of original sin. He argues
that in human law offspring suffer for the crimes
of parents and even of more remote ancestors,
and asks : —

" And is not God's decree as iust as ours,

If He, for Adanfs sinne, his sonnes depriue,
Of all those natiue vertues," etc.

Finally, both writers raise the same question, or,
rather, both put into the mouths of others the
question as to why God did not do more to pre-
vent Adam's fall. And, though they differ some-
what in regard to their reply, both counsel modesty
with reference to prying into the mysterious and
secret counsels of the Almighty. Calvin says:
•'And let no one here clamour that God might
have provided better for our safety by preventing
Adam's fall. This objection, which, from the dar-
ing presumption implied in it, is odious to every
pious mind, relates to the mystery of predestina-
tion, which will afterwards be considered in its
own place." x

1 Op. dt., Bk. II. ch. i. sec. 10.

140 Philosophy in Poetry

Davies also says : —

"Vet this the curious wits will not content ;

They yet will know (sith God foresaw this ill)
Why His high Prouidence did not preuent
The declination of the first man's will."

After replying to this objection in the manner
already stated, he adds : —

'* Then let vs praise that Power, which makes vs be
Men as we are, and rest contented so ;
And knowing Man's fall was curiositie,
Admire God's counsels, which we cannot know."

The number of these striking similarities in
thought in the two thinkers might be increased,
but a sufficient number has been pointed out to
show beyond reasonable doubt that the poet was
greatly influenced by the Genevan theologian in
his doctrine of original sin. In meeting the ob-
jection of Traducianism against Creationism, —
that it is impossible to hold the dogma of original
sin and adhere to Creationism without making
God responsible for the birth of each individual
soul in sin, — Davies seems to have had recourse
to Calvin's Institutes in his interpretation and ap-
plication of the dogma.

CHAPTER VIII
THE RELATION OF SOUL AND BODY

f I VHUS far our poet in his philosophy of mind
has discussed the question of the reality
and essential nature of mind, arguing its reality
against the claims of Sensationalism and Material-
ism. He has explained its real nature to be that
of a spiritual substance, — the fundamental modes
or forms of whose functioning are intellect and will.
He has also discussed the mode of the soul's origin
in relation to the body, canvassing the various
theories, and taking his position with the Crea-
tionists, affirming each soul to be an immediate
creation on the part of the Deity, while the body
is still in its pre-natal state, and vindicating the
theory against the objection of Traducianism that
it is inconsistent with the dogma of original sin.
But if the soul be a reality, and a spiritual reality,
it is nevertheless not a disembodied spirit. It is a
spirit " knit to the body." And the next ques-

I42 Philosophy in Poetry

tion which naturally suggests itself, and which the
poet considers, is the union of soul and body.
His treatment of this important question of the
philosophy of mind is peculiar. Instead of at-
tempting to explain the relation of soul and body,
he first dwells upon its purpose or teleology.
Then, in a subsequent part of the poem, he at-
tempts a description of the relation. But there
seems to be no effort to really explain the ultimate
nattire of this relation, which is the problem that
most concerns the philosophic mind.

With reference to the object or purpose of the
union of body and mind, Davies says, first, that
the soul is joined to the body for the purpose of
becoming a microcosm. Partaking, as it does, of
the nature of God, and also, in its union with the
body, of the world, it bears the image of all that
is. God first created angels as pure spirits. He
then created bodies or material things without
spirits. He then created man —

" th' horizon 'twixt both kinds,
In whom we doe the World's abridgement see."

Just what the purpose or " final cause " of such a
microcosm, as a microcosm, is, Davies fails to
reveal.

The Relation of Soul and Body

Another reason why the soul was united to the
body is to be found in the supposed fact, that the
world needed a being who could distinguish all of
its parts — making use of them, and taking de-
light in them. It needed a being who could order
things with industry and art ; a being, also, who
might glorify God, admiring Him in His works,
and rendering prayer and praise unto Him, as He
is glorified by the angels of heaven.

Again, the irrational brute world needed a visi-
ble king to rule over it. It is in this capacity as
an embodied or incarnated spirit that man has
dominion over the animal world.

And, finally, the poet closes his discussion of
the teleology of the union of soul and body by
calling attention to the fact that it was by just such
an incarnation that God united Himself to the
world, so that the world might obtain everlasting
bliss.

But, as already stated, the poet not only ex-
plains the teleology of the union of body and soul,
but also describes it. That is, he describes the
manner of this union. He first proceeds nega-
tively. He tells us what the manner of the union
is not. Nothing ties the soul to the body. In
this respect the soul is independent of the body.

J44 Philosophy in Poetry

Although she moves the body, still she is not in
actual contact with it. Neither does she dwell in
the body as in a tent, nor as a pilot sits in his ship ;
nor as a spider pent in his web ; nor as wax re-
tains an impression ; nor as a vessel holds water ;
nor as a liquor mixed in another; nor as heat
in fire ; nor as a voice spread in air. Not after
such modes of union is the union of body and
soul to be conceived. But rather after the man-
ner of the union of the morning light with the at-
mosphere, which he poetically describes in these
words : —

" But as the faire and cheerfull Morning light,
Doth here and there her siluer beames impart,
And in an instant doth herselfe vnite
To the transparent ayre, in all, and part :

" Still resting whole, when blowes th' ayre diuide ;
Abiding pure, when th' ayre is most corrupted ;
Throughout the ayre, her beams dispersing wide,
And when the ayre is tost, not interrupted :

" So doth the piercing Soule the body fill,
Being all in all, and all in part diffus'd ;
Indiuisible, incorruptible still,
Not forc't, encountred, troubled or confus'd.

" And as the sunne aboue, the light doth bring,
Though we behold it in the ayre below ;
So from th' Eternall Light the Soule doth spring,
Though in the body she her powers doe show."

The Relation of Soul and Body 145

In Davies's account of the relation between body
and soul the evidence of the influence of Nemesius
is very marked. There is a noticeable agreement
in both thought and language. In the first place,
they are in agreement in regard to the teleology of
the union. According to both authors, the reason
why the soul is united to the body is, the forma-
tion of a microcosm. On this point Nemesius
says : " This is manifest, that MAN in some things
participates with creatures void of life ; and that he
is partaker also of life, as those living-creatures be,
which are unreasonable : and that he is indowed
likewise with understanding, as are Creatures
reasonable'' * . . .

" These things considered, MAN standeth in such
a Being as comprehends the sensible and intelli-
gible Nature. In respect of his Bodily powers,
and of his Bodily substance (which is subject unto
sense) hee agrees both with living-creatures, and
with things void of life. In respect of his Reason-
able part he communicates with Stibstances which
are bodilesse (or spiritual!) as hath been said
before."2 . . .

" These things considered, Moses in expressing

1 Op. cit, pp. 6-7. 2 Ibid., pp. 8-9.

10

Philosophy in Poetry

the Creation of the World, did very properly af-
firme that MAN was last made. Not only, because
all things being made for MAN, it was most con-
venient, that all such things ought first to bee
provided, which were necessarily pertinent to his
use ; and that he who was to have the use of them,
should afterward be created : But, in respect both
intellectuall and visible substances, were created,
it seemed also convenient that One should be
made, by whom those two Natures should be so
united together, that the whole World might be-
come ONE ; and be in its owne selfe so agree-
able, that the same might not bee at variance, or
estranged from it selfe. Even to this end, was
MAN made such a living-creature, as might joyne
together both Natures, and (to summe up all in
a word) therein was manifested the admirable
wisdome of the universall CREATOR." *

Again, referring to the fact that man is a micro-
cosm, Nemesius says : " These things considered,
who is able to commend sufficiently the nobility
of this living- creature f Behold, he bindeth to-
gether in himself things mortall and immortal I ;
and knitteth up in One, things reasonable and
unreasonable. In his owne nature, hee beareth

1 Op. cit., pp. 19-20.

The Relation of Soul and Body 147

the image of all creatures, and from thence is
rightly called A little world." J

In the following words Davies also makes man
a microcosm, and says that this is the purpose of
the union of soul and body : —

" This substance, and this spirit of God's owne making,
Is in the body plact, and planted heere ;
That both of God, and of the world partaking,
Of all that is, Man might the image beare.

" God first made angels bodilesse, pure minds,
Then other things, which mindlesse bodies be;
Last, He made Man, th' horizon twixt both kinds,
In whom we doe the World's abridgement see."

Thus both writers agree that one of the purposes
of the union of soul and body in man was to form
a microcosm. Not only is the thought of both
the same here, but their language is quite similar.
There are other reasons why the soul is united
to the body given by Davies, which, while not
explicitly urged by Nemesius as reasons for such
union, are nevertheless pointed out by him as the
result of man's constitution as body-mind. They
indicate further the influence of Nemesius on
Davies. Speaking of man, Nemesius says : " It
is a thing proper also, to MAN only, to learn Arts

1 Op. cit, p. 71.

Philosophy in Poetry

and Sciences, and to worke according unto such
Arts : For which cause they who define him say
thus; MAN is a living' Creature, indued with
Reason, mortall, capable of Consideration and
Science"**- Nemesius does not say that this was
part of the purpose of the union of soul and body.
But it seems to be an implication of his thought
that this is the result of such a constitution of man.
Davies's thought and words are similar : —

" Besides, this World below did need one wight,
Which might thereof distinguish euery part ;
Make vse thereof, and take therein delight,
And order things with industry and art."

Again, in this connection, they agree that man
is placed here to govern the brute world. Neme-
sius, contrasting man's constitution as body and
soul with that of the angels, and also with non-
rational things, points out that it is because of
man's unique constitution as body-mind that he
is made ruler over both the inanimate and animate
worlds. Having contrasted man's nature with that
of the angels, he says: "This being so, we must
seek out a Nature which is indued with Reason^
and yet needeth such things as are aforementioned ;
and what other nature can be found of that sort,
i Op. cit., p. 47.

The Relation of Soul and Body

if MAN be passed over? Surely none: And if
no other can be discovered, it followeth by good
reason that both things void of life, and unreason-
able creatures, were made for the sake of MAN;
and if they were ordained for him (as it is evident
they were) then, that was likewise the cause why
he was constituted the Governor also of those
creatures." a

Davies, also, still speaking of the reason " why
the soul is united to the body," says : —

" Lastly, the bruite, unreasonable wights,

Did want a visible king on them to raigne."

Again, in the very chapter and section referred
to before in which Nemesius speaks of man as a
microcosm or " little world," he not only follows
with the statement, that all things were made
for man, but that " He is that creature also, for
whose sake GOD became MAN, and who shaking
off his corruption, finisheth it in a never-ending
immortality." 2

Davies, too, still speaking of the reasons why
the soul was united to the body, says : —

" Lastly, the bruite, unreasonable wights,

Did want a visible king on them to raigne :
And God, Himselfe thus to the World vnites, —
That so the World might endlesse blisse obtaine."
1 Op. cit, pp. 52-53. a Ibid., pp. 71-72.

750 Philosophy in Poetry

But we not only find a likeness in thought and
language between the two writers in their discus-
sion of the teleology of the union of soul and
body, but also a striking similarity in what they
say concerning the manner of this union. Both
writers first proceed negatively in their descrip-
tions. They make use of the method of exclu-
sion, and then state positively what is the manner
of the union of soul and body. But there is not
merely an agreement in their form of treatment
of the subject, but also in the content, and in the
language which embodies the content.

In the first place they agree that the soul is not
in the body as one material thing is in another.
Nemesius argues this at some length.1

Davies says : —

" Then dwels shee not therein as in a tent,
Nor as a pilot in his ship doth sit ;
Nor as the spider in his web is pent ;
Nor as the waxe retaines the print in it."

But Nemesius becomes more specific, and makes
use of illustrations, and here, in the second place,
there is an agreement between the two writers
on the subject. Nemesius says, that the soul is
not in the body as in a vessel or bottle, " Neither
1 Op. cit., pp. 185-202.

The Relation of Soul and Body 151

is it in the body as in some bottle or other vessell,
nor compassed in by the same." *
So Davies : —

" Nor as a vessell water doth containe."

Again, Nemesius says, soul and body are not
united as in a mixture of wine and water. In the
latter there is " corruption and confusion " — no
preservation of the distinctness of each, whereas
in the union of soul and body such " corruption
and confusion " do not occur. " And as for such
a mixture as is made of wine and water, wee know
it corrupts both the one and the other ; for there
doth remaine neither pure water, nor pure wine,
after such a mixture."2

Davies says : —

" Nor as a vessell water doth containe ;
Nor as one liquor in another shed."

Again, Nemesius says, that the soul is not in
the body as fire is in the wood. But he says
this in an indirect way. He likens the relation
of the soul to the body, to the relation of the
sun to the air, but with this difference, " that the
Sunne being a Body, and circumscribed within
the compasse of Place, is not himselfe in every
1 Op. cit., p. 199. 2 ibid., p. 189.

1 52 Philosophy in Poetry

place where his light is, but (as fire in the wood,
or as the flame in a candle) is confined to a cer-
taine place" 1

So Davies affirms, immediately after the lines
quoted above : —

" Nor as the heat doth in the fire remaine;
Nor as a voice throughout the ayre is spread."

Thus both writers describe the union of soul
and body negatively. But they also describe it
positively or affirmatively. And in this affirma-
tive description Davies uses the very same simile
used by Nemesius. The latter says : " For, as
the Sun, so soon as it appeareth, changes the
ayre into light; so making it lightsome, and so
diffusing it selfe with the ayre, that it is united
with the same, and yet not confounded therewith :
Even so, the soul being united with the Body,
remaines without confusion therewith; differing
in this onely, that the Sunne being a Body, and
circumscribed within the compasse of Place, is
not him selfe in every place where his light is,
but (as fire in the wood, or as the flame in a
candle) is confined to a certaine place"*

In strikingly similar language Davies describes
the relation of soul and body. He says : —
1 Op. cit., p. 198. 2 Ibid., pp. 197-198

The Relation of Soul and Body 153

"But as the faire and cheerfull Morning light,
Doth here and there her siluer beames impart,
And in an instant doth herselfe vnite
To the transparent ayre, in all, and part :

" Still resting whole, when blowes th' ayre diuide ;
Abiding pure, when th' ayre is most corrupted ;
Throughout the ayre, her beams dispersing wide,
And when the ayre is tost, not interrupted :

" So doth the piercing Soule the body fill,
Being all in all, and all in part diffus'd ;
Indiuisible, incorruptible still,
Not forc't, encountred, troubled or confus'd."

Not only does he use the same simile here that
is used by Nemesius as descriptive of the relation
between soul and body, but in the last verse of
the above quotation, he uses the same terms that
Nemesius uses in speaking of this relation. He
speaks of the " piercing soul," as " being all in
all," and " all in part," as " incorrupted " by this
union, as not " forced," " encountered," or " con-
fused." These, and others having the same mean-
ing, abound in the description by Nemesius.1

It seems evident from this comparison of the de-
scriptions of the union between soul and body by
Nemesius and Davies that the latter was influenced
decidedly by the former. And when we add this
1 Cf. op. cit., pp. 185-202.

Philosophy in Poetry

evidence to the evidence previously adduced in
favor of the position that the poet-philosopher is
indebted to the Church Father for aid, it places
the matter beyond reasonable doubt.

It will be noticed that in the account of the
relation between body and mind by Davies there
is hardly anything beyond a mere description of
their union. This seems rather remarkable in
view of the degree of thoroughness with which
he apprehends and treats the other problems of
a philosophy or metaphysics of mind. One can-
not think seriously on this problem for any length
of time without perceiving that it is one of the
most important, far-reaching, as well as one of
the most difficult problems with which the meta-
physician must deal. For, after all, the problem
is but one aspect of a more general one — the
problem of interaction — how one thing can act
upon another. And the answer we give to this
question will determine the character of our entire
metaphysical system — whether it shall be dual-
istic or monistic, materialistic or idealistic, theis-
tic or pantheistic. For in the final analysis, it
involves the two most fundamental questions of
metaphysics — the ultimate nature of reality and
the relation of the finite to the Absolute. This

The Relation of Soul and Body 755

being so, one cannot justly dismiss the problem
of the relation of mind and body with a mere
descriptive statement of it, as Davies has done.
Davies's failure to treat the subject with philo-
sophical thoroughness stands in glaring contrast
to the serious consideration received by it in the
century immediately following. In this, the seven-
teenth century, it was thoroughly handled, and
there was a rich development of speculative opin-
ion concerning the ultimate nature of the relation
between mind and body, especially in the theories
of causal relation by Descartes, of psycho-physical
parallelism by Spinoza, occasionalism by Male-
branche and Geulincx, and pre-established har-
mony by Leibnitz.

CHAPTER IX

HOW THE SOUL EXERCISES ITS POWERS IN
THE BODY

TAAVIES next considers how tne mind exer-
cises its various powers in the body. This
very naturally leads him to an analysis and de-
scription of the different powers or activities of
the soul. Here again his work is crude, but not
any more so than is the psychology of the Middle
Ages. If we remember, too, the state of physics
and physiology at that time, it will make us char-
itable in our judgment of the poet's work, es-
pecially in the treatment of the senses.

In the first place, the soul is possessed of a
vegetative or quickening power. The office or
function of this power is to vivify, animate, nourish,
and preserve the body. It is present in every
living part of the bodily organism, and serves it
as a nurse or mother.

In the second place, the soul is endowed with
the power of sense. The office of this power is

How the Soul exercises its Powers 757

to acquaint the mind with the superficial qualities
or forms of things — the colors, tastes, odors,
sounds, sizes, forms, etc., of things. Not with the
inner, but with the outer nature of things — with
the externals. The process of sense-perception,
however, is not carefully analyzed : —

" This power, in parts made fit, fit obiects takes,
Yet not the things, but forms of things receiues ;
As when a scale in waxe impression makes,
The print therein, but not it selfe it leaues."

As to the number of the soul's senses, he holds
to the old Aristotelian classification — five — which
he treats in the following order, — sight, hearing,
taste, smelling, feeling or touch. And, first, the
sense of sight.

The eyes, the organs of vision, are located in
the head, and thus —

" Stand as one watchman, spy, or sentinell."

Although two in number, they act as one — al-
though they both see, they report but one thing.
They perceive the forms of all things and all
places. They serve as guides to the body. They
are the chief source of information to the soul.
They contribute no beams to the objects, but
receive rays from them, which rays, —

" in the eyes with pointed angles end."

1 58 Philosophy in Poetry

Explaining further the physical process of vision,
he says : —

" If th' obiects be farre off, the rayes doe meet

In a sharpe point, and so things seeme but small ;

If they be neere, their rayes doe spread and fleet,

And make broad points, that things seeme great withall."

Finally, he mentions nine essentials for distinct
vision — the power to see, the light, the visible
thing, which must not be too small, or thin, or
near, or far; and clear space and time. The
science of optics and the art of painting are based
upon the sense of sight.

He next deals with hearing. The organs of
hearing are the ears. Their real office —

" is the troubled ayre to take,
Which in their mazes formes a sound or noyse,
Whereof her selfe doth true distinction make."

The ears are located high, —

" Because all sounds doe lightly mount aloft."

Furthermore, the ears are constructed as they
are — there being no direct passage of the stimu-
lus to the brain, — for the protection of the brain.
The obstructions to an immediate striking of the
brain on the part of the stimulus afforded by the
tympanum and the windings and turnings between

How the Soul exercises its Powers 159

the outer ear and the brain, save the latter from
astonishment and confusion. These " plaits and
folds " restrain the sound so that it comes with
a gentle touch to the brain. He likens this re-
lation of the physical stimulus of sound to the
brain to the flow of winding streams : —

" As streames, which with their winding banks doe play,
Stopt by their creeks, run softly through the plaine ;
So in th' Eares' labyrinth the voice doth stray,
And doth with easie motion touch the braine."

But while the sense of hearing is the slowest, it
is, on the other hand, the daintiest sense. It is
capable of very fine discriminations. The art of
music is founded on this sense. But its proper
object is human speech, and especially the speech
uttered by the heralds of God. The senses of
sight and hearing are the most informing senses.
They bring most knowledge to the soul. The
other senses, as we shall see, are more concerned
with the good and ill of the body: —

" Thus by the organs of the Eye and Eare,

The Soule with knowledge doth her selfe endue ;
Thus she her prison, may with pleasure beare,
Hauing such prospects, all the world to view.

" These conduit-pipes of knowledge feed the Mind,
But th' other three attend the Body still ;
For by their seruices the Soule doth find,
What things are to the body, good or ill."

160 PM/osophy in Poetry

The first of these body-serving senses of which
he treats is taste. Inasmuch as the life of the
body is fed with meats and air, the soul makes
use of the sense of taste, by which —

" In veines, which through the tongue and palate spred,"

it distinguishes every relish. This sense is pri-
marily the body's nurse, but man also delights in
the pleasures of taste. As a result, the art of
cooking comes into being.

The next sense to be considered is the sense of
smell. It is located in the nostrils. Its office is —

" To iudge all ayres, whereby we breath and Hue"

We find this sense also to be " mistresse of an
Art," which deals with sweet perfumes. This art
imparts little good, — those smelling best who
smell least. Still, good odors purify the brain,
awaken the fancy, and refine the wits : —

" Hence old Deuotion, incense did ordaine
To make mens' spirits apt for thoughts diuine."

Lastly, the poet treats of the sense of feeling or
touch. It is the root of life. It is omnipresent
in the living body —

" By sinewes, which extend from head to foot,
And like a net, all ore the body spred."

How the Soul exercises its Powers 161

Its function is to acquaint us with such qualities
of bodies as hot and cold, moist and dry, hard
and soft, rough and smooth. Through touch
also we experience pleasure and pain.

The poet ends his account of the senses by
again calling attention to their relation to the
higher powers of mind : —

" These are the outward instruments of Sense,

These are the guards which euery thing must passe

Ere it approch the mind's intelligence,

Or touch the Fantasie, Wit's looking-glasse"

Having thus treated of the power of sense, he
next takes up the subject of the imagination or
common sense. Here he enters a little more into
an explanation or description of the mechanism
involved in the apprehension of things by sense,
for in such apprehension the imagination and fan-
tasie are concerned. The senses themselves really
do not perceive. They —

" Themselues perceiue not, nor discerne the things."

There is a common power, " which doth in the
forehead sit," which brings together the forms of
external things collected by the senses. Because
all of the nerves which spread to the outward

organs, and which bear the " spirits of sense," are

ii

162 Philosophy in Poetry

united in this portion of the brain ; and here are
discerned, by a common power which is called
the imagination or the common sense, the " sundry
formes " of sense.

But now occurs another process — a transmis-
sion of these forms thus perceived by imagination
or common sense to a still higher region of the
brain, where is located another power of mind —
the " fantasie " : —

"Those outward organs present things receiue,
This inward Sense doth absent things retaine ;
Yet straight transmits all formes shee doth perceiue,
Vnto a higher region of the brained

This power of fantasie beholds and discerns the
forms thus transmitted ; compounds and compares
them, and tests their values. It is an exceedingly
busy power, operating day and night — the flutter-
ing wings of a thousand dreams keeping it awake
when the senses are at rest.

There is still another power involved in the
apprehension of sense — the sensitive memory.
Notwithstanding the activity of the fantasie, all
forms may not be present to her sight. Those
which she has ceased to see are retained by
memory, which power is located in the rear part
of the brain. With this brief mention of the

How the Soul exercises its Powers 163

sensitive memory we reach an end of " sense's
apprehension : " —

" Heere Sense's apprehension, end doth take ;
As when a stone is into water cast,
One circle doth another circle make,
Till the last circle touch the banke at last."

But there are also " passions of sense " which
are caused in the heart by the " motiue vertue "
of the soul. These passions are joy, grief, fear,
hope, hate, and love. They possess " a free com-
manding might," and different actions are impelled
by them. All actions not directed by reason
spring from these passions. Now the question
arises, How, if the power of sense is located in the
brain, does the brain give rise to these passions of
sense in the heart? It is due to the mutual love
and kind intelligence which exist between the
brain and heart. But more specifically it may
be explained as follows : The " spirits of life "
have their origin in the heat of the heart. When
the " spirits of life " ascend to the brain, they give
rise to the " spirits of sense." These " spirits of
sense " judge of the nature of objects whether
good or ill, in the court of the fantasie. They
report their judgments to the heart — the seat of
the passions. If the report be good, the passions

164 Philosophy in Poetry

of love, hope, and joy are called into being. If
the report be ill, it causes hatred, fear, and grief.
These natural passions would be good, were rea-
son possessed of its original perfection, so as to
properly direct them.

But there is still another motive power which
comes from the heart, —

"from whose pure blood do spring
The vitall spirits; which, borne in arteries ;
Continuall motion to all parts doe bring.

" This makes the pulses beat, and lungs respire,
This holds the sinewes like a bridle's reines ;
And makes the Body to aduance, retire,
To turne or stop, as she them slacks, or straines.

" Thus the soule tunes the bodie's instrument ;

These harmonies she makes with life and sense;

The organs fit are by the body lent,

But th' actions flow from the Soule 's influence."

The poet now turns to the consideration of the
two powers of the soul which are really expressive
of its nature, — the powers of wit and will. These
powers are peculiar to man's soul as compared
with the animal soul. On earth no other being
is endowed with these higher powers of mind.
The poet first deals with the power of wit. This
power looks into the fantasie, wherein the senses

How the Soul exercises its Powers 165

gather, and abstracts from thence the shapes or
forms of things. These, after being received into
the passive part of the wit or intellect, are enlight-
ened by the active intellect, and thus the mind or
intellect perceives the forms of single things. The
next step is by discourse, anticipation, and com-
parison, to gain a knowledge of universal natures,
and to trace effects to their causes. Now the
power of wit is known by different names as it
functions differently. When it reasons, or " moues
from ground to ground," it is known as reason.
When by this process of reasoning it has attained
the truth, and stands fixed therein, it is known
as understanding. When the wit only slightly
assents, then it is opinion. When it defines a
certain truth by principles, then we have judg-
ment. Many reasons lead to understanding.
Many understandings lead to knowledge, and
much knowledge leads to wisdom. But while
man thus ascends by steps to wisdom, he has
a certain native power — certain " sparkes of
light," by which he can discern "some common
things " : —

" For Nature in man's heart her lawes doth pen ;
Prescribing truth to wit, and good to will j
Which doe accuse, or else excuse all men,
For euery thought or practise, good or ill."

1 66 Philosophy in Poetry

" And yet these sparkes grow almost infinite,

" Making the World, and all therein their food."

These sparks were almost quenched by the Fall of
man, but they are increased by a heavenly light in
those who have been justified through faith in Christ.
Now just as we are endowed with wit, which
should truly know goodness, so we are endowed
with will, which ought to choose true goodness.
Will often errs in choosing, taking evil for good,
and good for evil, simply because of the error of
wit. The relations between wit and will are very
intimate, and the poet points these out. Will
executes what wit devises. Will acts; wit con-
templates. And as wisdom arises from wit, so all
other virtues spring from the will. Wit is coun-
sellor to will, and will carries out its counsels.
Wit is the chief judge of the mind, controlling the
judgments of the fancy. Will is king and with its
royal sceptre rules the passions of the heart.
Finally, the poet affirms that will is free. The
soul in the exercise of this power is neither re-
strained nor constrained by any outside power.
It is a self-determining being: —

" Will is as free as any emperour,

Naught can restraine ^r gentle libertie ;
No tyrant, nor no torment, hath the power,
To make vs will, when we vnwilling bee."

How the Soul exercises its Powers i6j

The last faculty or power with which the poet
deals, is the intellectual memory. It may seem
singular to follow the analysis and description of
wit and will — the highest powers of the soul, —
with a brief notice and description of another
power. But there is a kind of logical order
observed here. He has already described the
sensitive memory, which is the " lidger-booke "
of sense. But there is also a " lidger-booke " of
wit and will — a storehouse for their products —
" all arts and generall reasons." This intellectual
memory is immortal. Its records survive death.
No " Lethcean flood " can wash them away : —

" To these high powers, a store-house doth pertaine,
Where they all arts and generall reasons lay ;
Which in the Soule, euen after death, remaine,
And no Lethcean flood can wash away."

Thus a survey of the human mind reveals a di-
versity of powers, each one having its own proper
function or office, and one exceeding " another in
degree." But notwithstanding this diversity of
powers — these differences in function and degree
— they sustain a mutual dependence. The wit of
man is given him for the purpose of knowing
Almighty God. His will is given him for the
purpose of loving God, being known. But the

1 68 Philosophy in Poetry

human mind could not know God save by His
works, and these can only be revealed through
sense. So that wit and will are dependent on
sense. Again, sense in turn is dependent upon a
lower power, the quickening power. This feeds or
nourishes the power of sense. And so it is, as we
have already seen, that the lower powers are also
dependent upon the higher. And it is as men
actually evaluate these powers in their living, that
they are high or low in the scale of human life.

Finally, there is one more point to be noted.
The three powers — sense, wit, and will, — al-
though spoken of as powers, must not be regarded
as distinct entities or agents. That is, they are
not three souls. They constitute but one soul.
They are three modes of the one soul's functioning
— three fundamental forms of the soul's activity.

This ends the account of how the soul exercises
its powers in the body, in which account Davies
also presents to the reader his analysis and de-
scription of the various powers of the mind, and
his conception of their mutual relations. After
thus surveying the whole field of the mind's
activities, he is so overcome with the marvellous
constitution of man that he breaks forth with the
acclamation : —

How fbe Soul exercises its Powers 169

" O ! what is Man (great Maker of mankind !)

That Thou to him so great respect dost beare !
That Thou adornst him with so bright a mind,
Mak'st him a king, and euen an angel's peere !

" O ! what a liuely life, what heauenly power,

What spreading vertue, what a sparkling fire !
How great, how plentifull, how rich a dower
Dost Thou within this dying flesh inspire !

" Thou leau'st Thy print in other works of Thine,
But Thy whole image Thou in Man hast writ;
There cannot be a creature more diuine,
Except (like Thee) it should be infinit.

" But it exceeds man's thought, to thinke how hie
6Whath raisd Man, since God a man became ;
The angels doe admire this Misterie,
And are astonisht when they view the same."

Davies's analysis of the powers of the mind
is, fundamentally considered, Aristotelian. In the
first place, with both writers the real soul of man
is independent of the body, and is distinguished
from the soul as possessing certain powers by
virtue of its connection with the body — which
forms the " animal soul " as Aristotle calls it. The
higher soul of man Aristotle calls vow, and the
active vovs (as distinguished from the passive)
corresponds to the higher soul of man as con-
ceived of by Davies, — the soul as possessed of

i jo Philosophy in Poetry

"wit and will." In discussing the relation of
Reason to the other " faculties," Aristotle says :
" This consideration shews how improbable it is
that reason should be incorporated with the bodily
organism : for if so, it would be of some definite
character, either hot or cold, or it would have
some organ for its operation, just as is the case
with sense." . . .

" The difference, however, between the impas-
sivity of the faculty of reason and of the faculty of
sense is clear from a consideration of the organs
and the processes of sense-perception. Sense,
for example, is unable to acquire perception from
an object which is in too great excess — can-
not, to take an instance, perceive sound from ex-
tremely loud noises, nor see nor smell anything
from too violent colours and odours. Reason, on
the contrary, when it applies itself to something
extremely intellectual, does not lessen but rather
increases its power of thinking inferior objects, the
explanation being that the faculty of sense is not
independent of the body, whereas reason is sepa-
rated from it." *

So Davies affirms the independence of the soul.

1 Op. cit., Bk. III. ch. iv. sees. 4, 5. See also Bk. II. ch. ii.
sees. 4-10.

How the Soul exercises its Powers iji

The soul as " wit" and " will" is in a sense really
independent of the body : —

" These actions in her closet all alone,

(Retir'd within her selfe) she doth fulfill ;
Vse of her bodie's organs she hath none,
When she doth vse the powers of Wit and Will."

In the second place, both writers agree in regard
to the general powers of the soul. They are five
in number. Aristotle says : " Of the powers of
soul which have been mentioned, some organ-
isms, as has been said, possess all, others again a
few, while a third class possesses one only. The
powers in question are those of nutrition, of
sensation, of desire, of local movement and of
reasoning." x

So Davies says : —

" And though this spirit be to the body knit,
As an apt meane her powers to exercise ;
Which are life, motion, sense, and will, and wit,
Yet she suruiues, although the body dies"

Aristotle speaks also of the powers as four in
number, evidently regarding desire and local move-
ment as representing conation.2 Davies, also,
sometimes speaks of them as four; namely,
vegetative power, sense, wit, and will, as will be
1 Op. cit., Bk. II. ch. iii. sec. i. 2 Ibid., sec. 7.

Philosophy in Poetry

apparent in a moment in his description of the
relation of the powers.

In the third place, both writers agree in recog-
nizing the intimate relation existing between these
powers. Aristotle makes the lower potentially
existent in the higher. Davies speaks of the lower
as ministering to the higher. Aristotle says :
" The different forms of soul in fact stand to one
another in the same way as do the several species
of figure : both in the case of figures and of ani-
mate beings, the earlier form always exists poten-
tially in the later." *

Davies in describing the relation of these powers
says : —

" Our Wit is giuen, Almighty God\£> know ;

Our Will is giuen to loue Him, being knoivne;

But God could not be known to vs below,

But by His ivorkes which through the sense are shown.

" And as the Wit doth reape the fruits of Sense,
So doth the quickning power the senses feed ;
Thus while they doe their sundry gifts dispence,
The best, the seruice of the least doth need.

" Euen so the King his Magistrates do serue,
Yet Commons feed both magistrate and king ;
The Commons' peace the magistrates preserue
By borrowed power, which from the Prince doth spring.

1 Op. cit, Bk. II. ch. iii. sees. 6, 7.

How the Soul exercises its Powers

" The quickning power would be, and so would rest ;
The Sense would not be onely, but be well;
But Wit's ambition longeth to the best,
For it desires in endlesse blisse to dwell."

In the fourth place, both writers in their analysis
of the powers of the soul are careful to emphasize
the unity of the soul. Aristotle, although speak-
ing sometimes of the various powers of the soul as
though they were souls, does not mean this. He
teaches rather that they are really modes or as-
pects of the one soul's functioning. This is a
fundamental implication of his teaching concern-
ing the relation of the powers.1

Likewise, Davies, closing his discussion of the
relation of reason, sense, and the vegetative power,
says : —

" Yet these three powers are not three soules, but one ;
As one and two are both containd in three
Three being one number by it selfe alone :
A shadow of the blessed Trinitie."

In Davies's more detailed analysis of the mental
" faculties " he deviates somewhat from Aristotle.
This may be an original element introduced here,
or it may be an introduction of a small element of
contemporary psychology.

Several points worthy of note in connection
1 Op. cit.,Bk. II. ch. iii.

IJ4 Philosophy in Poetry

with Davies's analysis and description of the men-
tal powers, pertain to his relation to Nemesius.
First, the latter teaches Aristotle's doctrine of the
vegetative power, or the power of nutrition, be-
longing to the soul. Davies, as we have seen, also
recognizes this power, and his description of its
method of working is so like that of Nemesius
as to indicate that he was influenced by him.
Nemesius says : " All the naturall faculties of the
nourishing power, are these foure ; an attractive
appetite, a retentive power, a distributing, and an
expulsive (or avoiding) facultie : for every part of
the living-creature, doth naturally draw unto it-
selfe such nourishment, as is convenient for the
same : when it is attracted, it preserveth it : when
the same is kept a due time, it changeth the same
into it selfe ; and then expelleth whatsoever proveth
to be superfluous." x

In similar language Davies describes the func-
tioning of this power. He, too, attributes to it
the offices of attracting, retaining, distributing, and
expelling : —

" Her quick* ning power in euery liuing part,
Doth as a nurse, or as a mother serue ;
And doth employ her oeconomicke art,
And busie care, her household to preserue.
1 Op. cit., pp. 397-398.

How the Soul exercises its Powers 775

" Here she attracts, and there she doth retaine,
There she decocts, and doth the food prepare ;
There she distributes it to euery vaine,
Here she expels what she may fitly spare."

Of course, it must be remembered that when
two writers agree in regard to the functioning of
a power or agent, their language must necessarily
be similar. But the language and its content are
so strikingly similar here as to indicate, especially
in view of the evidence already presented, that
Davies was influenced by Nemesius. Second,
an instance similar to the above is found in
the description given by both writers of the
source of the " vital spirits." Nemesius says :
" Because the vitall-spirit is dispersed from the
heart by the arteries, into every part of the
body." *

Davies, in discussing the " Motion of Life," in
connection with his analysis of the mental pow-
ers, thinks and speaks of the vital spirits as does
Nemesius: —

** Besides, another mottue-power doth rise

Out of the heart ; from whose pure blood do spring
The vitall spirits; which, borne m arteries,
Continuall motion to all parts doe bring."

1 Op. cit., p. 408.

/ 76 Philosophy in Poetry

They agree in recognizing the existence of vital
spirits ; also in regard to their seat, their course,
and their destination.

It is interesting to note also in this connection
Calvin's analysis of the mental powers with which,
if our view of Davies's indebtedness to Calvin be
correct, he must have been familiar. It is briefly
given in the following passage: "First, I admit
that there are five senses, which Plato (in The-
aeteto) prefers calling organs, by which all ob-
jects are brought into a common sensorium, as
into a kind of receptacle : Next comes the imagi-
nation, {phantasie) , which distinguishes between
the objects brought into the sensorium : Next,
reason, to which the general power of judgment
belongs : And, lastly, intellect, which contemplates
with fixed and quiet look whatever reason discur-
sively revolves. In like manner, to intellect, fancy,
and reason, the three cognitive faculties of the
soul, correspond three appetitive faculties, viz.,
will, whose office is to choose whatever reason and
intellect propounds; irascibility, which seizes on
what is set before it by reason and fancy; and
concupiscence, which lays hold of the objects pre-
sented by sense and fancy."1

i Op. cit., Bk. I. ch. xv. sec. 6.

How the Soul exercises its Powers 177

There is, of course, only a general correspond-
ence between Davies's analysis of the various
" faculties " of the soul and Calvin's, which would
hardly indicate anything with reference to Calvin's
influence upon Davies. But in Davies's account
of the function of reason in the determination of
truth and goodness, and the handicap under which
she labors by virtue of man's Fall ; and also in his
account of the relation between reason and will as
that of Ruler and Guide, there is much that in-
dicates the influence of Calvin.1

As indicating the position which Davies's two-
fold division of the powers of the real soul of man
as " wit and will " holds in the history of psy-
chology the following brief statement by Sully is
substantially true, — only we can hardly say that
the threefold division has been " fixed as the per-
manent one": "The first essay in distinguishing
between co-ordinate mental functions led to a
bipartite or dichotomus division, viz., into an in-
tellective and an active or conative factor. The
germ of this bisectional view may be found in
Aristotle, who, while he gave independent func-
tional value to intellect or thought (z^oO?) and

1 Cf. Calvin, op. cit, Bk. I. ch. xv. sees. 6-8; also Bk. II.
ch. ii. sees. 12-26.

12

i 78 PUlosopby in Poetry

to desire or appetite (o/aefi?), subordinated feel-
ing to these. This twofold scheme remained the
prevailing one up to comparatively recent times.
It survives in the classification of Reid, viz.,
(i) Intellectual and (2) Active Powers, and in the
popular psychology of everyday life. The sepa-
rate recognition of feeling as a co-ordinate phase
or function of mind is due to the German psy-
chologists of the Wolffian school who wrote about
the middle of the last century, more especially
Moses Mendelssohn and Tetens. The tripartite
division was adopted from these by Kant, and by
his authority fixed as the permanent one. "

1 " The Human Mind." New York, 1892, Vol. II., Appendix
A. p. 327.

CHAPTER X
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL

T TAVING covered so much of the territory of
the philosophy of mind, there still remains
another portion to be traversed. The poet has
considered the problems of the Whence and the
What of mind ; he must now consider the Whither.
He has attempted to determine its origin and na-
ture ; he must now determine, if possible, its des-
tiny. Is the mind a mere creature of time, or
does it bear the impress of eternity? In our poet's
judgment the soul is immortal, and he proceeds, in
the most formal manner, to give reasons for the
faith within him on this most important question.

Referring to the wonderful powers of mind re-
vealed by his psychological analysis, he says : —

" Nor hath He giuen these blessings for a day,
Nor made them on the bodie's life depend ;
The Soule though made in time, suruives for aye,
And though it hath beginning, sees no end.

180 Philosophy in Poetry

" Her only end, is neuer-ending blisse ;

Which is, M' eternall face of God to see;
Who Last of Ends, and First of Causes, is :
And to doe this, she must eternall bee."

This eternity of the soul will be manifest to any
one who will patiently study its nature. In its
very constitution, and in some of its fundamen-
tal modes of behavior, he will discern its im-
mortality.

Having thus stated his thesis, and hinted at the
method of procedure by which it is to be estab-
lished, he presents the ground for its acceptance
in the form of a series of " Reasons " : —

Reason I., is based on man's desire for knowl-
edge — a desire to " know the truth of euery thing "
— which is native to the human soul. It is co-
natural with the soul, — to use the poet's own ex-
pression. It is born with it, and springs from its
very essence. Going with this native desire to
know, is also a native might to discover the truth
of everything, were sufficient time allowed to the
soul. But this mortal life is too short for the ac-
complishment of such a task. Our little life passes
away as rapidly —

" As doth a hungry eagle through the wind,
Or as a ship transported with the tide."

Immortality of the Soul 181

So much of this short time is engaged with the
few things revealed by sense, as to be really at
an end —

" Ere we the principles of skill attaine."

Here we hardly attain more than the alphabet of
knowledge. Now God, who creates nothing in
vain, has either given us this native appetite for
perfect knowledge in vain, or our knowledge is to
be perfected in another life. God never gave a
power to an entire species but that the majority of
the species made use of such power. But it is not
so with the human species. He has endowed it
with a native desire and might to know the truth
perfectly, but not one member of the species can
in this mortal life thus know the truth. Hence we
must conclude with reference to the soul's knowl-
edge, that if —

" perfection be not found below,
An higher place must make her mount thereto.'

Reason II., is based on what the poet calls the
motion of the soul. The soul with its powers of
wit and will aspires to eternity. Since it aspires
to the eternal God, it must be an eternal thing.
All moving things move toward their kind. The
river, whose water was first derived from the sea,

1 82 Philosophy in Poetry

ultimately, after moving here and there, by various
windings through the land, again moves toward
the sea. And thus it is with the soul of man. It
comes from God. It pursues earthly things. It
moves here and there, seeking contentment among
things temporal. But it is not satisfied with what
it finds and turns to things eternal : —

" Then as a bee which among weeds doth fall,

Which seeme sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and gay ;

She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all,

But pleasd with none, doth rise, and scare away;

" So, when the Soule finds here no true content,

And, like Noah's doue, can no sure footing take ;
She doth returne from whence she first was sent,
And flies to Him that first her wings did make."

That man thus moves towards God, and is thus
like God in his Eternity, is manifest in the move-
ments of his reason and will. The rational nature
of man seeks truth. It ascends from cause to
cause, and does not rest until it reaches the First
Cause. It is so also with will. It seeks the Good.
In its pursuit of the same it finds many subordi-
nate ends or goods. But these do not satisfy.
The will cannot rest in them. It seeks a supreme
good, a summum bonnm. Now God is the Ulti-
mate Truth or First Cause; and He is also the

Immortality of the Soul

Ultimate End or Supreme Good. He is the Alpha
to reason, and the Omega to will. In this move-
ment of the soul, in its two fundamental modes
of action, it betrays its heavenly origin and
destiny.

Reason III., is based on the contempt for death
manifested by superior souls. Such souls desire
the satisfactions of the immortal life, and they
often experience contempt for the death of the
body. This is really due to the immortal nature
of the soul. For, if the death of the body in-
volved the soul's destruction, it would mean that
death is the enemy of the soul, — that is, against
its essential nature. And were this so, all souls
would flee from death. For the soul, like all
things, is taught by its nature the lesson of self-
preservation. The instinct of self-preservation,
under such circumstances, would lead all souls
to avoid death as far as possible. This being so,
the choice spirits of the world could not err so
far as to prefer honor to life : —

" For what is praise to things that nothing bee ? "

Furthermore, were the life of the soul dependent
upon the body, then the soul would only seek the
body's good. There would be no sacrifice of
physical or bodily good for higher ends : —

184 Philosophy in Poetry

" We should not find her half so braue and bold,
To leade it to the Warres and to the seas ;
To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold,
When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease."

Reason IV., is founded on the fear of death in
wicked souls. Such fear proves the immortal
nature of him who experiences it. For it is not
annihilation that such souls fear. Rather would
they welcome this. But it is, as Hamlet put it, —

" the dread of something after death
. . . puzzles the will.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all."

Now this testimony of both good and evil souls
to the soul's immortality, as explained above, is,
according to the poet, Nature's testimony; —

" Nature* s speech,
Which, like God's Oracle, can neuer lie."

Reason V., is based on the general desire for
immortality. Davies holds the position, that the
desire for immortality is instinctive with man.
Such a universal desire cannot be in vain, for
Nature does not covet impossibilities. Fond
thoughts, of course, may be cherished by some
idle brain, which do not involve reality : —

" But one assent of all, is euer wise."

Immortality of the Soul 185

So universal a desire as this must involve a reality
to satisfy it. From this desire springs the prog-
ress of the race — "that generall care and study," —

" That launching and progression of the mind',
Which all men haue so much, of future things,
That they no ioy doe in the present find."

From this desire for immortality also springs
man's desire for gaining surviving fame, —

" By tombes, by bookes, by memorable deeds"

From it also springs the care for posterity which
characterizes man —

" For things their kind would euerlasting make."

Hence old men plant trees the fruit of which is
to be enjoyed by another age.

If we reflect upon these things, and apply them
to ourselves, we shall find that they are Nature's
true notes of immortality.

Reason VI., is based upon the fact of doubt
and dispute concerning immortality. To doubt
immortality shows that we know immortal things.
To reason about immortality would be impossible
were man merely mortal. To judge of immortal
things involves the immortal nature of the judging
mind : —

1 86 Philosophy in Poetry

" For when we iudge, our minds we mirrors make :
And as those glasses which materiall bee,
Formes of materiall things doe onely take,
For thoughts or minds in them we cannot see;

" So, when we God and angels do conceiue,
And thinke of truth, which is eternall too ;
Then doe our minds immortall formes receiue,
Which if they mortall were, they could not doo."

If animals were to conceive what reason is, they
would necessarily have to be rational beings. So
it is with the soul. If she can reason about im-
mortality she must be immortal. So that —

" Shee proofes of her eternitie doth bring,

Euen when she striues the contrary to proue."

The poet concludes, that even this very thought
of immortality is an act of the self-moving mind,
framed by the mind without the aid of the body,
and, in the spirit of Plato in the Phcedrus, he
affirms that this independence of mind is evi-
dence that she can survive the death of the body.
And as a self-moving being, her motion must be
everlasting, for she can never forsake herself.

But some misgivings may still arise. Although
the soul may be free from any corruption spring-
ing from herself, may there not be some external
cause, designed by Fate, that ultimately will de-

Immortality of the Soul 187

stroy her? So that the poet considers these mis-
givings and gives reply.

In the first place, perhaps the cause of the soul
itself may cease, and then the soul must die. Not
so, says the poet. For God is her Cause, and
His Word was her Maker, and this shall stand
forever — when heaven and earth shall pass like
a shadow.

But there may be something strongly antipa-
thetic to the soul that shall ultimately destroy her.
But how can there be such a contrary to the
soul —

" Which holds all contraries in concord still ?

" She lodgeth heat, and cold, and moist, and dry,

And life, and death, and peace, and war together;
Ten thousand fighting things in her doe lye,
Yet neither troubleth, or disturbeth either."

Still, it may be urged, she may die for want of
food. Not so, says the poet. Not only all things,
but the Eternal God himself, as well as Eternal
Truth, constitute her food.

Perhaps, however, violence can destroy her, as
" sun-beames dim the sight," or as a thunder-clap
or noise of cannon affects the ear. No, says the
poet, on the contrary, the soul is perfected by
encountering " things most excellent and high."

1 88 Philosophy in Poetry

Furthermore, the soul is so subtle as to glide
safely through all dangers ; and the will is so free
as not to abide any force.

But, after all, may not Time, the great destroyer
of things, destroy the soul? No, says the poet,
Time only cherishes her and increases her might.
Time gives perfection to the soul, and adds new
lustre to her beauty, and makes her to dwell in
eternal youth. The more the soul lives, " the
more she feeds on Truth!' and the more she thus
feeds, the more strength she derives ; and strength
is the effect of youth, which if nursed by Time,
how can it cease? The poet's reply to this mis-
giving, which grows out of the consciousness of
the destructive nature of Time, is eloquent almost
to the point of sublimity : —

" But lastly, Time perhaps at last hath power

To spend her liuely powers, and quench her light ;
But old god Saturne which doth all deuoure,
Doth cherish her, and still augment her might.

" Heauen waxeth old, and all the spheres aboue
Shall one day faint, and their swift motion stay;
And Time it selfe in time shall cease to moue ;
Onely the Soule suruives, and liues for aye.

" Our Bodies, euery footstep that they make,
March towards death, vntill at last they die ;
Whether we worke, or play, or sleepe, or wake,
Our life doth passe, and with Time's wings doth flie :

Immortality of the Soul 189

" But to the Soule Time doth perfection giue,
And ads fresh lustre to her beauty still ;
And makes her in eternall youth to liue,
Like her which nectar to the gods doth fill.

" The more she Hues, the more she feeds on Truth ;

The more she feeds, her strength doth more increase :
And what is strength, but an effect of youth ?
Which if Time nurse, how can it euer cease ? "

Thus far Davies, in his reflection upon the im-
mortality of the soul, has considered the grounds
for belief in immortality, and also several mis-
givings which may arise even in the face of this
rational evidence. But he feels that his treatment
of this subject would be inadequate, did he not
consider certain objections which may be urged
against his position. In the consideration of these
objections he proceeds as formally as before, stat-
ing first the objection candidly and clearly, and
then following in a formal manner with his answer.
In his answer he endeavors not only to refute the
objection, but also to strengthen the arguments
previously presented by him in favor of belief.

Objection I., is based on the fact that the soul
grows old. This is manifest in the dotage of old
men; and in the sottishness, dulness, and cold-
ness of their brains. It is based further on the
fact that the soul itself seems to be corrupted,
which is evident in idiocy and insanity.

i go Philosophy in Poetry

To this objection the poet replies, that it con-
stitutes a subtle argument to those who identify
sense and reason, and fail to distinguish agent
from instrument, and the working power from the
work. But to those who distinguish between sense
and reason, and understand the relations between
them, both idiocy and dotage are explicable in
a manner which does not involve the integrity of
the soul. As has been previously explained, there
is a kind of dependence of reason upon sense in
our knowledge of things. The soul united to the
body is dependent upon sense for its materials,
and if the region of the brain, where both the
outward sense and the inward sense of fantasie
are localized, be wanting in integrity, so as to fail
to report things ; or, reporting them, report them
incorrectly, then, of course, the soul is either blind
or misled. This explains idiocy. The trouble is
not with the mind of the idiot. It is capable of
knowing the truth and choosing the good when
these are properly presented by sense and fan-
tasie. The difficulty lies in the fact that —

" that region of the tender braine,
Where th' inward sense of Fantasie should sit,
And the outward senses gatherings should retain,"

has either —

" By Nature, or by chance, become vnfit ';

Immortality of the Soul 191

to perform its office. Remove this trouble ; re-
store the integrity of this " region of the tender
braine," —

" Then shall the Wit, which never had disease,
Discourse, and iudge discreetly, as it ought."

The defect then is in the organs of sense, and not
in the soul; in the instrument, and not in the
agent; and —

" We must not blame Apollo^ but his lute,
If false accords from her false strings be sent."

Dotage may be explained in a similar manner.
The trouble is not with the dotard's soul, but with
his power of sense, which has been so weakened
by age that it —

" Cannot the prints of outward things retaine."

The soul, therefore, sits idle. This is what we
call childishness and dotage. But, were the old
man possessed of the young man's power of sense,
there would be a different result. The soul would
then function properly. Dotage, then, must not be
regarded as a weakness of the mind, but rather a
weakness of sense. If it were a waste of the for-
mer, it would be found in all old men. But such
is not the case. The majority of them, despite
the gradually wasting body, retain a quicker and

792 Philosophy in Poetry

stronger mind, and a better use of their under-
standing, than when they were possessed of the
bodily power of youth.

Objection II., is based on the supposition, that
if the soul's organs die she will not be able to use
her powers. Such inability to use her powers
practically amounts to their extinction. Deprived
of her powers, what then is the soul ? Every-
thing is possessed of power, and acts spring from
powers. Destroy the powers and acts, and you
destroy the thing.

To this objection Davies makes reply: It is
undoubtedly true that death destroys " the instru-
ments of sense and life," although the root of
these remain in the substance of the soul. But
just as wit and will, during the mind's union with
the body, can judge and choose without its aid,
though using the materials which are derived by
means of the body's organs, so, after the body's
destruction and the extinction of sense, the soul —

" can discourse of what she learn'd before,
In heaunly contemplations, all alone."

That is, the soul after the death of the body can
exercise her fundamental powers on what she
acquired during her union with the body. To this
statement Davies adds another, based undoubtedly

Immortality of the Soul 193

on belief in the resurrection of the body. He
says, that ultimately these organs of sense which
are destroyed by death will be revived with the
revival of the body, and will perform or fulfil
their wonted office. And this leads to another
objection.

Objection III., involves the question as to how,
in the interim, — between death and the resurrec-
tion, — the soul is to employ herself. With her
power of sense gone, she can enjoy what she
has previously acquired and retained through her
relation with sense, —

" But she hath meanes to vnderstand no more."

And what about those poor souls who really
acquire nothing through sense, and those who
acquire but do not retain? Such souls, for lack
of exercise, must sleep.

To this objection the poet replies by asking,
why man should not have other means of knowing
after death, just as children after birth feed by
different means than in the pre-natal state? Could
they in their mother's wdmb hear from her that
shortly they would leave their native home, they
would fear birth as much as we fear death. They
would raise the question as to how they were to

13

1 94 Philosophy in Poetry

be nourished in this new world. But could some
one reply to their question by informing them of
the wonders of sense that will greet them in their
new habitat, and of the " ten thousand dainties "
that will give pleasure to the sense of taste, and
nourish, the body and cause it to grow, they would
regard such a statement as fabulous. Yet they
find this to be true after birth. It is the same
with the soul of man; for death is merely the
birth of the soul. Ten thousand things await its
birth, a knowledge of which, by some unknown
method, is to be acquired : —

" So, when the Soule is borne (for Death is nought
But the Souths birth, and so we should it call)
Ten thousand things she sees beyond her thought,
And in an vnknowne manner knowes them all.

" Then doth she see by spectacles no more,
She heares not by report of double spies ;
Her selfe in instants doth all things explore,
For each thing present, and before her, lies." *

Objection IV., consists of the old, stereotyped
question, Why, if the soul survive death, do not

1 Does not Davies contradict himself in thus eliminating the
work of sense from the soul's knowledge after death? For he
has previously stated with reference to the organs of sense : —

" Yet with the body they shall all reuiue,
And all their wonted offices fulfill"

Immortality of the Soul 195

departed spirits return, and give us news of that
mysterious world beyond the grave? As Robert
Blair puts it in his poem entitled The Grave : —

" Tell us, ye dead, will none of you in pity,

To those you left behind, disclose the secret?
Oh ! that some courteous ghost would blab it out ;
What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be." 1

Davies in reply to this objection wants to know
why, if we believe that men live —

" Vnder the Zenith of both frozen Poles,"'1

although none of them come to give us informa-
tion, we cannot exercise a like faith concerning
the destiny of our souls. At death the soul is
done with earth. It has no more business here
than we have in our mother's womb. And, al-
though all children have come from thence, what
child desires to return? This failure of departed
souls to return to earth shows that they have
reached a goodly dwelling place. And, doubt-
less, souls who have stood in the presence of their
Maker, look with scorn and contempt on this vile
world. And those condemned to hell, probably
for shame, or because of impossibility, do not
return.

1 Quoted from Grosart's ed. of Nosce Teipsum.

/9<5 Philosophy in Poetry

Objection V., urges that politic men have spread
this lie of heaven and hell as the destiny of good
and evil souls to make men virtuous.

The poet answers, that those who urge this
objection concede the value of virtue, and asks
whether they have no other way of preserving
virtue than by lying. It is not virtue and false-
hood, but rather virtue and truth which best agree,
and he draws the. conclusion, that since the effects
of this doctrine of the soul's destiny are con-
fessedly so good, and virtue and truth are ever in
agreement, it must be true : —

" For, as the deuill father is of lies,

So vice and mischiefe doe his lyes ensue ;
Then this good doctrine did not he deuise,
But made this lye, which saith it is not true."

Davies, in the further consideration of this
objection, again falls back on the consensus gen-
tium — " the general consent of all." How can
that be false which is universally conceded or
affirmed? —

" This rich Assyrian drugge growes euery where ;
As common in the North, as in the East;
This doctrine does not enter by the eare,
But of it selfe is natiue in the breast."

Belief in immortality is essentially a universal
phenomenon. It is native to the human soul.

Immortality of the Soul 797

No one, says our poet, who believes in God, or
in divine providence, doubts it. It is the root of
all religion, and no nation is without a religion.
Any view to the contrary impeaches the wisdom
and goodness of God. And he closes the discus-
sion of the soul's immortality by reaffirming his
belief: —

" But blest be that Great Power, that hath vs blest
With longer life then Heauen or Earth can haue
Which hath infus'd into our mortall breast
Immortal powers, not subiect to the graue.

" For though the Soule doe seeme her graue to beare,
And in this world is almost buried quick;
We haue no cause the bodie's death to feare,
For when the shell is broke, out comes a chick." *

There is one more subject which the poet briefly
touches upon before he closes his reflective study
of the human mind. He affirms that there are
three kinds of life which answer to the three es-
sential powers of the soul. These three essen-
tial powers are, the quickening power, the power
of sense, and the power of reason. There are
three kinds of life which are designed to perfect

1 Tennyson, arguing in favor of belief in immortality, in The
Ancient Sage, says : —

" The shell must break before the bird can fly."

198 Philosophy in Poetry

these powers of the soul. The first life is the pre-
natal life. Here the soul's quickening power is
engaged in nursing the body. When nourishment
becomes defective, the soul " expels her body "
and views the world. This is what we call birth.
Could the child speak, he would call it death.

Now the individual enters upon the second life
answering to the second power of the soul — the
life of sense. He enters a world —

" Where all his Senses in perfection bee;
Where he finds flowers to smell, and fruits to taste;
And sounds to heare, and sundry formes to see."

After the individual has spent some time living
this life of sense, he enters upon the rational life,
which, as we have seen before, is lived in connec-
tion with the life of sense. But the rational life
does not reach its perfection here. We have here
only the dawn of reason — not the noon-day.
Reason merely awakes a little ; she does not awake
to a full exercise of her power. But when the soul
quits the body at death, then she enters into a
perfect exercise. And this is the third life, and —

" In this third life, Reason will be so bright,

As that her sparke will like the sun-beames shine;
And shall of God enioy the reall sight.
Being still increast by influence diuine."

Immortality of the Soul

In Davies's discussion of the soul's immortality
we can easily trace the influence of Aristotle,
Cicero, and Calvin. Especially is the influence of
Cicero and Calvin manifest. In the second reason
for belief in the soul's immortality which Davies
presents, it is evident that he learned of Calvin.
It is based on the " motion " of the soul, or the
soul's capacity to reach God through reason and
the moral will. On this subject, Calvin says :
" Moreover, there can be no question that man
consists of a body and a soul; meaning by soul,
an immortal though created essence, which is his
nobler part. Sometimes he is called a spirit. . . .
It is true, indeed, that men cleaving too much
to the earth are dull of apprehension, nay, being
alienated from the Father of Lights, are so im-
mersed in darkness as to imagine that they will
not survive the grave ; still the light is not so
completely quenched in darkness that all sense
of immortality is lost. Conscience, which, dis-
tinguishing between good and evil, responds to
the judgment of God, is an undoubted sign of an
immortal spirit. How could motion devoid of
essence penetrate to the judgment-seat of God, and
under a sense of guilt strike itself with terror ? The
body cannot be affected by any fear of spiritual

2oo Philosophy in Poetry

punishment. This is competent only to the soul,
which must therefore be endued with essence.
Then the mere knowledge of a God sufficiently
proves that souls which rise higher than the world
must be immortal, it being impossible that any
evanescent vigour could reach the very fountain of
life. In fine, while the many noble faculties with
which the human mind is endued proclaim that
something divine is engraven on it, they are so
many evidences of an immortal essence. For such
sense as the lower animals possess goes not be-
yond the body, or at least not beyond the objects
actually presented to it. But the swiftness with
which the human mind glances from heaven to
earth, scans the secrets of nature, and, after it has
embraced all ages, with intellect and memory
digests each in its proper order, and reads the
future in the past, clearly demonstrates that there
lurks in man a something separated from the
body. We have intellect by which we are able to
conceive of the invisible God and angels — a thing
of which body is altogether incapable. We have
ideas of rectitude, justice, and honesty — ideas
which the bodily senses cannot reach. The seat
of these ideas must therefore be a spirit." 1
1 Op. cit., Bk. I. ch. xv. sec. 2.

Immortality of the Soul 201

Davies takes essentially the same position in the
following words : —

" Againe how can shee but immortall bee ?

When with the motions of both Will and Wit,

She still aspireth to eternitie,

And neuer rests, till she attaine to it?

" Wit, seeking Truth, from cause to cause ascends,
And neuer rests, till it \hzfirst attaine;
Will, seeking Good, finds many middle ends,
But neuer stayes, till it the last doe gaine.

" Now God, the Truth, and First of Causes is :
God is the Last Good End, which lasteth still ;
Being Alpha and Omega nam'd for this ;
Alpha to Wit, Omega to the Will.

" Sith then her heauenly kind shee doth bewray,
In that to God she doth directly moue ;
And on no mortall thing can make her stay,
She cannot be from hence, but from aboue."

Reasons III. and IV., which Davies offers as in-
dicating the soul's immortality, based respectively
on the contempt for death which good souls show,
and the fear of death which wicked souls evince,
are undoubtedly an implication of Christian teach-
ing with reference to the future life of reward and
punishment, — the doctrine of heaven and hell.
Still Davies pronounces this contempt on the one

202 Philosophy in Poetry

hand, and fear on the other, to be " Nature's
speech " : —

" If then all Soules, both good and bad, doe teach,
With generall voice, that soules can neuer die,
'Tis not man's flattering glosse, but Nature's speech,
Which, like God's Oracle, can neuer lie."

We note here the influence of Cicero. In his
remarks " On the Contempt of Death," in the
Disputationes Tusculance, he gives reasons why the
good man, or the superior soul, should not fear
death, and points out the destiny of wicked souls.
He quotes with admiration Socrates's famous
speech before his judges, in regard to the good
man having no need to fear death. In this book
Cicero also speaks of the improbability of cour-
ageous sacrifice, were men not immortal, or were
men not possessed of belief in immortality:
"What will you say? What do you imagine that
so many and such great men of our republic, who
have sacrificed their lives for its good, expected?
Do you believe that they thought that their names
should not continue beyond their lives? None
ever encountered death for their country but under
a firm persuasion of immortality ! Themistocles
might have lived at his ease; so might Epami-
nondas ; and, not to look abroad and among the

Immortality of the Soul 203

ancients for instance, so might I myself. But,
somehow or other, there clings to our minds a
certain presage of future ages ; and this both exists
most firmly, and appears most clearly, in men of
the loftiest genius and greatest souls. Take away
this, and who would be so mad as to spend his life
amidst toils and dangers? I speak of those in
power. What are the poet's views but to be en-
nobled after death? What else is the object of
these lines,

Behold old Ennius here, who erst
Thy fathers' great exploits rehearsed?

He is challenging the reward of glory from those
men whose ancestors he himself had ennobled by
his poetry. And in the same spirit he says, in
another passage,

Let none with tears my funeral grace, for I
Claim from my works an immortality.

Why do I mention poets? The very mechanics
are desirous of fame after death. Why did Phidias
include a likeness of himself in the shield of
Minerva, when he was not allowed to inscribe his
name on it? What do our philosophers think on
the subject? Do not they put their names to
those very books which they write on the contempt

204 Philosophy in Poetry

of glory? If, then, universal consent is the voice
of nature, and if it is the general opinion every-
where that those who have quitted this life are
still interested in something, we also must sub-
scribe to that opinion. And if we think that men
of the greatest abilities and virtues see most clearly
into the power of nature, because they themselves
are her most perfect work, it is very probable that,
as every great man is especially anxious to benefit
posterity, there is something of which he himself
will be sensible after death." 1

Compare with these words the following words
of Davies : —

" For all things else, which Nature makes to bee,
Their being to preserue, are chiefly taught ;
And though some things desire a change to see,
Yet neuer thing did long to turne to naught.

" If then by death the soule were quenched quite,
She could not thus against her nature runne ;
Since euery senselesse thing, by Nature's light,
Doth preservation seeke, destruction shunne.

" Nor could the World's best spirits so much erre,
If death tooke all — that they should all agree,
Before this life, their honour to preferre ;
For what is praise to things that nothing bee ?

1 Op. cit., Bk. I. sec. 15. All quotations from Cicero are
from Yonge's translation, New York, 1877.

Immortality of the Soul 205

" Againe, if by the bodie's prop she stand ;
If on the bodie's life, her life depend ;
As Meleager's on the fatall brand, —
The bodie's good shee onely would intend :

" We should not find her half so braue and bold,
To leade it to the Warres and to the seas ;
To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold,
When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease.

" Doubtlesse all Soules have a suruiuing thought ;
Therefore of death we thinke with quiet mind ;
But if we thinke of being turned to nought,
A trembling horror in our soules we find."

In Davies's fifth reason for affirming the immor-
tality of the soul, we note again the influence of
Cicero upon his thinking. Under " Reason V." he
really includes a number of reasons, all of which
are to be found in Cicero. We have the universal
desire or general assent to the belief; also the
" launching " of the mind into future things. We
have the desire for posthumous fame springing out
of the desire for immortality. We have also care
for posterity arising from this desire. A com-
parison of the views and language of the two
authors will leave no doubt as to Davies's obliga-
tion to Cicero. Cicero, after a long discussion of
the argument from general assent, says : " But
as we are led by nature to think there are Gods,

206 Philosophy in Poetry

and as we discover, by reason, of what description
they are, so, by the consent of all nations, we are
induced to believe that our souls survive." 1

And, again, in language which Davies closely
follows : " But the greatest proof of all is, that
nature herself gives a silent judgment in favor of
the immortality of the soul, inasmuch as all are
anxious, and that to a great degree, about the
things which concern futurity:

One plants what future ages shall enjoy,

as Statius saith in his Synephebi. What is his
object in doing so, except that he is interested
in posterity? Shall the industrious husbandman,
then, plant trees the fruit of which he shall never
see? And shall not the great man found laws,
institutions, and a republic? What does the pro-
creation of children imply, and our care to con-
tinue our names, and our adoptions, and our
scrupulous exactness in drawing up wills, and
the inscriptions on monuments, and panegyrics,
but that our thoughts run on futurity? There is
no doubt but a judgment may be formed of nature
in general, from looking at each nature in its most
perfect specimens; and what is a more perfect
1 Op. cit., Bk. I. sec. 16.

Immortality of the Soul 207

specimen of a man than those are who look on
themselves as born for the assistance, the protec-
tion, and the preservation of others? Hercules
has gone to heaven ; he never would have gone
thither had he not, while among men, made that
road for himself. These things are of old date, and
have, besides, the sanction of universal religion." *
So Davies says : —

" Hence springs that vniuersall strong desire,
Which all men haue of Immortalitie :
Not some few spirits vnto this thought aspire ;
But all mens' minds in this vnited be.

" Then this desire of Nature is not vaine,
She couets not impossibilities ;
Fond thoughts may fall into some idle braine,
But one assent of all, is euer wise.

" From hence that generall care and study springs,
That launching and progression of the mind;
Which all men haue so much, of future things,
That they no ioy doe in the present find.

" From this desire, that maine desire proceeds,
Which all men haue suruiuing Fame to gaine ;
By tombes, by bookes, by memorable deeds :
For she that this desires, doth still remaine.

" Hence lastly, springs care of posterities,

For things their kind would euerlasting make ;
Hence is it that old men do plant young trees,
The fruit whereof another age shall take.

1 Op. cit., Bk. I sec. 14.

208 Philosophy in Poetry

"If we these rules vnto our selues apply,
And view them by reflection of the mind ;
All these true notes of immortalitie
In our heart's tables we shall written find."

Reason VI., based on the "Doubt and Dispu-
tation of Immortalitie," is simply another way of
stating Calvin's argument; namely, that the fact
that we can form ideas of immortal things is evi-
dence of our immortality. Davies affirms, that to
doubt immortality is to reveal an idea of " immor-
tal things," and thus to reveal the doubter's im-
mortal nature. Calvin puts the argument thus:
" We have intellect by which we are able to con-
ceive of the invisible God and angels — a thing of
which body is altogether incapable. We have
ideas of rectitude, justice, and honesty — ideas
which the bodily senses cannot reach. The seat
of these ideas must therefore be a spirit."1 And
the context shows that he uses spirit in this con-
nection as synonymous with immortal spirit. For
he says : " Moreover, there can be no question
that man consists of a body and a soul; mean-
ing by soul, an immortal though created essence,
which is his nobler part. Sometimes he is called
a spirit."2

1 Op. cit., Bk. I. ch. xv. sec. 2. 2 Ibid.

Immortality of the Soul 209

Davies, in speaking of the idea of " immortal
things " involved in the sceptic's denial of im-
mortality, says : —

"So, when we God and angels do conceiue,
And thinke of truth, which is eternall too ;
Then doe our minds immortall formes receiue,
Which if they mortall were, they could not doo."

Cicero and Calvin, then, constitute the chief
sources of influence upon Davies's thinking on the
subject of the immortality of the soul. But there
is a general argument underlying Davies's entire
thought on this subject for which, as we have
seen, he is indebted primarily to Aristotle ; namely,
the soul's independence of the body.

The subject of immortality has figured con-
spicuously in the history of speculative thought.
The preponderance of speculative opinion has
been favorable to the belief. Early in the his-
tory of Greek philosophy it was held by the
Pythagoreans. It is involved in their doctrine
of metempsychosis or transmigration of souls.

If we are justified in assuming that the words
put into the mouth of Socrates in the Phcedo by
Plato are representative of the views of Socrates
on immortality, then Socrates was undoubtedly

21 o Philosophy in Poetry

an able champion of the belief. And there seems
no reason for doubting the above assumption.

Plato, as has already been suggested, argues at
length in the Phcedo the reality of immortality.
So numerous and varied are his arguments that
one's surprise increases as he reflects upon Davies's
failure to interrogate Plato on this question in
which the poet was so deeply interested.1

It is sometimes disputed whether Aristotle be-
lieved in the immortality of the soul. In try-
ing to answer the question it is of importance to
keep in mind the distinction which he makes be-
tween the animal soul — the soul as connected with
the body — and the active vov$ or the Reason,—
the soul whose essential existence is independent
of the body. If we keep this distinction in mind
it cannot be doubted that Aristotle teaches the
immortality of the active i>ot)? or Reason. On
this point he says : —

" Reason however would seem to constitute
a different phase of soul from those we have
already noticed and it alone admits of separa-
tion as the eternal from the perishable."2 And
again : —

1 Except in one instance indirectly through Cicero.

2 Op. cit., Bk. II. ch. ii. sec. 10.

Immortality of the Soul 211

" Further, this creative reason does not at one
time think, at another time not think : (it thinks
eternally:) and when separated from the body
it remains nothing but what it essentially is : and
thus it is alone immortal and eternal." *

It is impossible here to enter into the contro-
versy as to whether Aristotle's doctrine of im-
mortality involves a personal immortality or not.2
Our own opinion is, that while he does not ex-
plicitly teach a personal immortality, his doctrine
of Reason or active 2/ov? is not inconsistent with
such a view.

After Aristotle, probably the most conspicuous
advocate of the reality of immortality in Greek
and Grseco-Roman thought, was Cicero. His
views have already been given.

Of course the doctrine of a personal immortality
is pre-eminently a Christian doctrine. It is not only
taught in the New Testament, but Christian specu-
lative thought practically from its beginning down
to the present day has affirmed either the essential
immortality of the soul, or an acquired immortality.

1 Op. cit, Bk. III. ch. v. sec. 2.

2 Cf. Zeller, "Aristotle and the Earlier Peripatetics," Eng.
trans. London, 1897, Vol. II. pp. 129-135; also Janet and
Seailles, " History of the Problems of Philosophy," trans, by
Monahan. London, 1902, Vol. II. pp. 355-359.

212 Philosophy in Poetry

Probably the most conspicuous representatives
of the doctrine of a personal immortality in Modern
Philosophy are Leibnitz and Kant. The former
founds his belief on a doctrine of development
which implies both pre-existence and immortality.1
The latter makes immortality a postulate of the
practical reason or moral consciousness. In his
Critique of Practical Reason he says that the moral
nature demands of us moral perfection. This, in
a being constituted like man, involves endless
progression. Such endless progression, of course,
necessitates immortality.

i "Monadology"; also " Theodicy."

CONCLUSION

r I^HUS, in this elaborate poem, has our author
given poetical expression to his thought on
some of the profoundest problems that can engage
the human mind. He has considered the problem
of knowledge and man's capacity to know, and
has come to the conclusion that through the Fall
of man, and the consequences entailed upon the
race thereby, man is suffering from mental im-
potency — from an impaired mental and moral
vision. So that, if man is to know the soul aright,
he needs divine aid to supplement his efforts. In
the second place, he has considered the problem
of the reality of the soul, and has come to the
conclusion that the soul is an independent, spir-
itual agent whose nature is primarily revealed
in two fundamental modes of functioning — wit
and will. This reality of the soul he has en-
deavored to vindicate in the face of formidable
opposition in the form of Sensationalism and

2i 4 Philosophy in Poetry

Materialism, which deny the soul's reality. In
the third place, he has considered the problem
of the mode of the soul's origin — more partic-
ularly its origin in connection with the body.
His reflections have led him to reject the doctrines
of Pre-existence and Traducianism, and to adopt
the theory of Creationism — that every soul is
an immediate creation on the part of the Deity
contemporaneously with the body, and is breathed
into the body in its pre-natal state. In the fourth
place, he has considered the problem of the union
of soul and body, and has concluded that the
purpose of this union is, that man might bear the
image of all things — might be a microcosm; also,
that man might utilize and take delight in the
world, as well as glorify the Creator ; and, finally,
that man might rule over the animal kingdom.
He has not explained the ultimate nature of the
relation between soul and body, but has likened
this relation unto the union of the morning light
with the atmosphere. In the fifth place, the
poet has considered the question of the soul's
powers and their exercise in the body. In his
psychological analysis he was led to the recogni-
tion of the vegetative or quickening power, the
power of sense, and the powers of wit and will,

Conclusion 2/5

as constituting the main activities of the soul,
and that these powers are not distinct entities or
agents, but all are modes of the activity of a
distinct unitary agent called mind. He has also
concluded that these powers are mutually depend-
ent, and that the exercise of some is accompanied
by certain physical conditions. In the sixth place,
he has considered the destiny of the mind — the
problem of its immortality, and has come to the
conclusion that it is immortal. In attaining this
conclusion, he has not only considered the argu-
ments in favor of, but also the arguments against,
such belief. And finally, he has concluded that
there are three kinds of life corresponding to the
quickening, sense, and rational powers of the soul.
They are the pre-natal, mortal, and immortal life.
One is hardly surprised that, after such a sus-
tained effort of serious reflection on the prob-
lems of a philosophy of mind, and after reaching
such conclusions in regard to the reality, origin,
nature, powers, and destiny of the soul, the poet
finally breaks forth with the acclamation : —

" O ignorant poor man ! what dost thou beare
Lockt vp within the casket of thy brest ?
What iewels, and what riches hast thou there !
What heauenly treasure in so weake a chest !

2i 6 Philosophy in Poetry

" Look in thy soule, and thou shalt beauties find,
Like those which drownd Narcissus in the flood
Honour and Pleasure both are in thy mind,
And all that in the world is counted Good.

" Thinke of her worth, and think that God did meane,
This worthy mind should worthy things imbrace ;
Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts vnclean,
Nor her dishonour with thy passions base ;

" Kill not her quickning power with surfettings,
Mar not her Sense with sensualitie ;
Cast not her serious wit on idle things :
Make not her free-w///, slaue to vanitie.

" And when thou think'st of her eternitie,

Thinke not that Death against her nature is,
Thinke it a birth; and when thou goest to die,
Sing like a swan, as if thou went'st to blisse.

" And if thou, like a child, didst feare before,

Being in the darke, where thou didst nothing see ;
Now I haue broght thee torch-light, feare no more ;
Now when thou diest, thou canst not hud-winkt be.

" And thou my Soule, which turn'st thy curious eye,
To view the beames of thine owne forme diuine ;
Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly,
While thou art clouded with this flesh of mine.

" Take heed of ouer-weening, and compare

Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's traine ;
Study the best, and highest things that are,
But of thy selfe an humble thought retaine.

Conclusion 217

Cast downe thy selfe, and onely striue to raise
The glory of thy Maker's sacred Name ;
Vse all thy powers, that Blessed Power to praise,
Which giues thee power to bee, and vse the same"

APPENDIX

NOSCE TEIPSUM

BY SIR JOHN DAVIES

I. Kopal Dedication

TO MY MOST GRACIOVS DREAD
SOVERAIGNE

r~T^O that cleere maiestie which in the North
Doth, like another Sunne in glory rise ;
Which standeth fixt, yet spreads her heauenly

worth ;
Loadstone to hearts, and loadstarre to all eyes.

Like Heau'n in all ; like thy Earth in this alone.
That though great States by her support doe stand.
Yet she her self e supported is of none,
But by the finger of the Almighties hand:

To the diuinest and the richest minde,
Both by Art 's purchase and by N attire's dowre,
That euer was from Heau'n to Earth confirid,
To shew the vtmost of a creatures power :

To that great Spirit, which doth great kingdomes

mooue,
The sacred spring whence right and honor

streames,

Distilling Vertue, shedding Peace and Loue,
In euery place, as Cynthia sheds her beames :

222 Philosophy in Poetry

I offer up some sparkles of that fire,

Whereby wee reason, Hue, and moue, and be ;
These sparkes by nature euermore aspire,
Which makes them to so high an

Faire Soule, since to the fairest body knit,

You giue such liuely life, such quickning power,

Such sweet celestiall influences to it,

As keepes it still in youth's immortall flower :

(As where the sunne is present all the yeere,
And neuer doth retire his golden ray,
Needs must the Spring bee euerlasting there,
And euery season like the month of May.)

O ! many, many yeeres may you remaine,
A happy angell to this happy Land;
Long, long may you on Earth our empresse raigne,
Ere you in Heauen a glorious angell stand.

Stay long (sweet spirit) ere thou to Heauen depart,
Which mak'st each place a heauen wherein thou art.

Her Maiestie's least and vnworthiest Subiect

IOHN DAVIES.

Of Humane Knowledge 223

OF HUMANE KNOWLEDGE

TT 7HY did my parents send me to the Schooles,
That I with knowledge might enrich my

mind?

Since the desire to know first made men fools,
And did corrupt the root of all mankind :

For when God's hand had written in the hearts
Of the first Parents, all the rules of good,
So that their skill infusde did passe all arts
That euer were, before, or since the Flood ;

And when their reason's eye was sharpe and cleere,
And (as an eagle can behold the sunne)
Could haue approcht th' Eternall Light as neere,
As the intellectuall angels could haue done :

Euen then to them the Spirit of Lyes suggests
That they were blind, because they saw not ill ;
And breathes into their incorrupted brests
A curious wish, which did corrupt their will.\

For that same ill they straight desir'd to know ;
Which ill, being nought but a defect of good,
In all God's works the Diuell could not show
While Man their lord in his perfection stood

224 Philosophy in Poetry

So that themselues were first to doe the ill,
Ere they thereof the knowledge could attaine ;
Like him that knew not poison's power to kill,
Vntill (by tasting it) himselfe was slaine.

Euen so by tasting of that fruite forbid,

Where they sought knowledge, they did error

find;

111 they desir'd to know, and ill they did ;
And to giue Passion eyes, made Reason blind.

For then their minds did first in Passion see
Those wretched shapes of Miserie and Woe,
Of Nakednesse, of Shame, of Pouertie,
Which then their owne experience made them
know.

But then grew Reason darke, that she no more,
Could the faire formes of Good and Truth discern ;
Battes they became, that eagles were before :
And this they got by their desire to learne.

But we their wretched of-spring, what doe we?
Doe not we still taste of the fruit forbid
Whiles with fond fruitlesse curiositie,
In bookes prophane we seeke for knowledge
hid?

Of Humane Knowledge 225

What is this knowledge but the sky-stolne fire,
For which the thief e still chain'd in ice doth sit?
And which the poore rude Satyre did admire,
And needs would kisse but burnt his lips with it.

What is it? but the cloud of emptie raine,

Which when loue's guest imbrac't, hee monsters

got?

Or the false payles which oft being fild with paine,
Receiv'd the water, but retain'd it not !

Shortly, what is it but the firie coach

Which the Youth sought, and sought his death

withal?

Or the boye's wings, which when he did approch
The sunne's hot beames, did melt and let him fall?

And yet alas, when all our lamps are burnd,
Our bodyes wasted, and our spirits spent;
When we haue all the learned Volumes turn'd,
Which yeeld mens wits both help and ornament:

What can we know? or what can we o!iscerne?
When Error chokes the windowes of the minde,
The diuers formes of things, how can we learne,
That haue been euer from our birth-day blind?
15

226 Philosophy in Poetry

When Reasoned lampe, which (like the sunne in

skie)
Throughout Mans little world her beames did

spread ;

Is now become a sparkle, which doth lie
Vnder the ashes, halfe extinct, and dead :

How can we hope, that through the eye and eare,
This dying sparkle, in this cloudy place,

f Can recollect these beames of knowledge cleere,
Which were infus'd in the first minds by grace?

So might the heire whose father hath in play
Wasted a thousand pound of ancient rent;
By painefull earning of a groate a day,
Hope to restore the patrimony spent.

The wits that diu'd most deepe and soar'd most hie
Seeking Man's pow'rs, haue found his weaknesse

such :

" Skill comes so slow, and life so fast doth flie,
" We learne so little and forget so much.

For this the wisest of all morall men

Said, ' He knew nought, but that he nought did

know ' /

And the great mocking-Master mockt not then,
W,hen he said, ' Truth was buried deepe below.'

Of Humane Knowledge 227

For how may we to others' things attaine,

When none of vs his owne soule vnderstands?
For which the Diuell mockes our curious braine,
When, 'Know thy selfe' his oracle commands.

For why should wee the busie Soule beleeue,
When boldly she concludes of that and this;
When of her selfe she can no Judgement giue,
Nor how, nor whence, nor where, nor what she is?

All things without, which round about we see,
We seeke to knowe, and how therewith to doe ;
But that whereby we reason, Hue and be,
Within our selues, we strangers are thereto.

We seeke to know the mouing of each spheare,
And the strange cause of th' ebs and flouds of

Nile;

But of that clocke within our breasts we beare,
The subtill motions we forget the while.

We that acquaint our selues with euery Zoane
And passe both Tropikes and behold the Poles,
When we come home, are to our selues vn-

known,
And vnacquainted still with our owne Soules. J

228 Philosophy in Poetry

We study Speech but others we perswade ;
We leech-craft learne, but others cure with it;
We interpret lawes, which other men haue made,
But reade not those which in our hearts are writ.

Is it because the minde is like the eye,

Through which it gathers knowledge by de-
grees —

Whose rayes reflect not, but spread outwardly :
Not seeing it selfe when other things it sees?

No, doubtlesse ; for the mind can backward cast
Vpon her selfe, her vnderstanding light;
But she is so corrupt, and so defac't,
As her owne image doth her selfe affright.

As in the fable of the Lady faire,

Which for her lust was turnd into a cow;
When thirstie to a streame she did repaire,
And saw her selfe transform'd she wist not how:

At first she startles, then she stands amaz'd,
At last with terror she from thence doth flye ;
And loathes the watry glasse wherein she gaz'd,
And shunnes it still, though she for thirst doe
die:

Of Humane Knowledge 229

Euen so Man's Sonle which did God's image beare,
And was at first faire, good, and spotlesse pure;
Since with her sinnes her beauties blotted were,
Doth of all sights her owne sight least endure :

For euen at first reflection she espies,

Such strange chimeraes, and such monsters there ;

Such toyes, such antikes, and such vanities,

As she retires, and shrinkes for shame and feare.

And as the man loues least at home to bee,

That hath a sluttish house haunted with sprites;
So she impatient her owne faults to see,
Turnes from her selfe and in strange things delites.

For this few know themselues : for merchants broke
View their estate with discontent and paine;
And seas are troubled, when they doe reuoke
Their flowing waues into themselues againe.

And while the face of outward things we find,
Pleasing and faire, agreeable and sweet ;
These things transport, and carry out the mind,
That with her selfe her selfe can neuer meet.

Yet if Affliction once her warres begin,

And threat the feebler Sense with sword and fire ;
The Minde contracts her selfe and shrinketh in,
And to her selfe she gladly doth retire :

Philosophy in Poetry

As Spiders toucht, seek their webs inmost part ;
As bees in stormes vnto their hiues returne ;
As bloud in danger gathers to the heart ;
As men seek towns, when foes the country burn.

If ought can teach vs ought, Afflictions lookes,
(Making vs looke into our selues so neere,)
Teach vs to know our seines beyond all bookes,
Or all the learned Schooles that euer were.

This mistresse lately pluckt me by the eare,
And many a golden lesson hath me taught ;
Hath made my Senses quicke, and Reason cleare,
Reform'd my Will and rectifide my Thought.

So doe the winds and thunders cleanse the ayre ;
So working lees settle and purge the wine ;
So lop't and pruned trees doe flourish faire ;
So doth the fire the drossie gold refine.

Neither Minerua nor the learned Muse,
Nor rules of Art, nor precepts of the wise;
Could in my braine those beames of skill infuse,
As but the glance of this Dames angry eyes.

She within lists my ranging minde hath brought,
That now beyond my selfe I list not goe ;
My selfe am center of my circling thought,
Onely my selfe I studie, learne, and know.

Of Humane Knowledge 231

I know my bodie 's of so fraile a kind,
As force without, feauers within can kill ;
I know the heauenly nature of my minde,
But 'tis corrupted both in wit and will: J

I know my Soule hath power to know all things,
Yet is she blinde and ignorant in all;
I know I am one of Nature's little kings,
Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.

I know my life 's a paine and but a span,

I know my Sense is mockt with euery thing :
And to conclude, I know my selfe a MAN,
Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.

OF THE SOULE OF MAN AND
THE IMMORTALITE THEREOF

*-T*HE lights of heaitn (which are the World's

fair eies)

Looke downe into the World, the World to see ;
And as they turne, or wander in the skies,
Suruey all things that on this Center bee.

And yet the lights which in my towre do shine,
Mine eyes which view all obiects, nigh and farre;
Looke not into this little world of mine,
Nor see my face, wherein they fixed are.

Since Nature failes vs in no needfull thing,
Why want I meanes my inward selfe to see ?
Which sight the knowledg of my self might bring,
Which to true wisdome is the first degree.

That Power which gaue me eyes the World to view;
To see my selfe infus'd an inward light ;
Whereby my Saute, as by a mirror true,
Of her owne forme may take a perfect sight,

Of the Soule of Man 233

But as the sharpest eye discerneth nought,

Except the sunne-beames in the ayre doe shine ;
So the best Soule with her reflecting thought,
Sees not her selfe without some light diuine.

O Light which mak'st the light, which makes the

day!

Which setst the eye without, and mind within ;
'Lighten my spirit with one cleare heauenly ray,
Which now to view it selfe doth first begin.

For her true forme how can my sparke discerne?
Which dimme by nature. Art did neuer cleare ;
When the great wits, of whom all skill we learn,
Are ignorant both what shee is, and where.

One thinks the Soule is aire; another, fire ;
Another blood, diffus'd about the heart ;
Another saith, the elements conspire,
And to her essence each doth giue a part.

Musicians thinke our Soules are harmonies,
Phisicians hold that they complexions bee ;
Epicures make them swarmes of atomies,
Which doe by chance into our bodies flee.

Some thinke one generall Soule fils euery braine,
As the bright sunne sheds light in euery starre ;
And others thinke the name of Soule is vaine,
And that we onely well-mixt bodies are.

Philosophy in Poetry

In judgement of her substance thus they vary ;
And thus they vary in Judgement of her seat;
For some her chaire vp to the braine doe

carry,
Some thrust it downe into the stomackes heat.

Some place it in the root of life, the heart ;
Some in the liuer, fountaine of the veines ;
Some say, Shee is all in all, and all in part :
Some say, She is not containd but all containes.

Thus these great clerks their little wisdome show,
While with their doctrines they at hazard play,
Tossing their light opinions to and fro,
To mocke the lewd, as learn'd in this as they.

For no craz'd braine could euer yet propound,
Touching the Soule, so vaine and fond a thought,
But some among these masters haue been

found,
Which in their Schooles the self-same thing haue

taught.

God onely wise, to punish pride of wit,

Among men's wits hath this confusion wrought,
As the proud towre whose points the clouds did

hit,
By tongues' confusion was to ruine brought.

Of the Soule of Man 235

But Thou which didst Man's soule of nothing

make,

And when to nothing it was fallen agen,
" To make it new, the forme of man didst take,
"And God with God, becam'st a Man with

men.

Thou, that hast fashioned twice this Soule of ours,
So that she is by double title Thine ;
Thou onely knowest her nature and her pow'rs,
Her subtill forme Thou onely canst define.

To iudge her selfe she must her selfe transcend,
As greater circles comprehend the lesse ;
But she wants power, her owne powers to ex-
tend,
As fettered men can not their strength expresse.

But Thou bright Morning Star, Thou rising Sunne,
Which in these later times hast brought to

light

Those mysteries, that since the world begun,
Lay hid in darknesse, and eternall night :

Thou (like the sunne) dost with indifferent ray,
Into the palace and the cottage shine,
And shew'st the soule both to the clerke and lay,
By the cleare lampe of Thy Oracle diuine.

Philosophy in Poetry

This Lampe through all the regions of my braine,
Where my soule sits, doth spread such beames

of grace,

As now, me thinks, I do distinguish plain,
Each subtill line of her immortall face.

WHAT THE SOULE is

The soule a substance, and a spirit is,
Which God Himselfe doth in the body make ;
Which makes the Man : for euery man from

this,
The nature of a Man, and name doth take.

And though this spirit be to the body knit,
As an apt meane her powers to exercise ;
Which are life, motion, sense, and will, and wit,
Yet she suruiues, although the body dies.

THAT THE SOULE is A THING SUBSISTING BY

IT SELFE WITHOUT THE BODY

is a substance, and a re all thing,
Which hath it selfe an actuall working might ;
Which neither from the Senses' power doth

spring,
Nor from the bodie's humors, tempred right.

Of the Soule of Man 237

She is a vine, which doth no propping need,

To make her spread her selfe or spring vpright;
She is a starre, whose beames doe not proceed
From any sunne, but from a natitie light.

For when she sorts things present with things past,
And thereby things to come doth oft foresee;
When she doth doubt at first, and chuse at last,
These acts her owne, without her body bee.

When of the deaw, which the eye and eare doe take
From flowers abroad, and bring into the braine,
She doth within both waxe and hony make :
This worke is her's, this is her proper paine.

When she from sundry acts, one skill doth draw,
Gathering from diuers fights one art of warre,
From many cases like, one rule of Law ;
These her collections, not the Senses are.

When in th' effects she doth the causes know,
And seeing the stream, thinks wher the spring

doth rise;

And seeing the branch, conceiues the root below ;
These things she views without the bodie's eyes.

When she, without a Pegasus, doth flie

Swifter then lightning's fire from East to West,
About the Center and aboue the skie,
She trauels then, although the body rest.

238 Philosophy in Poetry

When all her works she formeth first within,
Proportions them, and sees their perfect end,
Ere she in act does anie part begin ;
What instruments doth then the body lend?

When without hands she doth thus castles build,
Sees without eyes, and without feet doth runne ;
When she digests the world, yet is not fil'd :
By her owne power these miracles are done.

When she defines, argues, diuides, compounds,
Considers vertue, vice, and generall t kings y
And marrying diuers principles and grounds,
Out of their match a true conclusion brings.

These actions in her closet all alone,

(Retir'd within her selfe) she doth fulfill ;
/Vse of her bodie's organs she hath none,
\ When she doth vse the powers of Wit and Will.

Yet in the bodie's prison so she lies,

As through the bodie's windowes she must looke,

Her diuers powers of sense to exercise,

By gath'ring notes out of the World's great book.

Nor can her selfe discourse or iudge of ought,
But what the Sense collects and home doth bring;
And yet the power of her discoursing thought,
From these collections, is a diuers thing.

Of the Soule of Man 239

For though our eyes can nought but colours see,
Yet colours giue them not their powre of sight ;
So, though these fruits of Sense her obiects bee,
Yet she discernes them by her proper light.

The workman on his stuffe his skill doth show,
And yet the stuffe giues not the man his skill ;
Kings their affaires do by their seruants know,
But order them by their owne royall will.

So, though this cunning mistresse and this queene,
Doth, as her instrument, the Senses vse,
To know all things that are/^//, heard, or seene,
Yet she her selfe doth onely iudge and chuse:

Euen as our great wise Empresse that now raignes
By soueraigne title ouer sundry Lands ;
Borrowes in meane affaires her subiects paines,
Sees by their eyes, and writeth by their hands ;

But things of waight and consequence indeed,
Her selfe doth in her chamber them debate ;
Where all her Counsellers she doth exceed
As farre in iudgement, as she doth in State.

Or as the man whom she doth now aduance,
Vpon her gracious mercy-seat to sit ;
Doth common things, of course and circumstance,
To the reports of common men commit:

240 Philosophy in Poetry

But when the cause it selfe must be decreed,
Himselfe in person, in his proper Court,
To graue and solemne hearing doth proceed,
Of euery proofe and euery by-report.

Then, like God's angell he pronounceth right,
And milke and hony from his tongue doth flow ;
Happie are they that still are in his sight,
To reape the wisedome which his lips doe sow.

Right so the Soule, which is a lady free,

And doth the Justice of her State maintaine ;
Because the senses ready seruants be,
Attending nigh about her Court, the braine :

By them the formes of outward things she learnes,
For they returne into the fantasie,
What euer each of them abroad discernes,
And there inrole it for the Minde to see.

But when she sits to iudge the good and ill,
And to discerne betwixt the false and true ;
She is not guided by the Senses' skill,
But doth each thing in her owne mirrour view.

Then she the Senses checks, which oft do erre,
And euen against their false reports decrees ;
And oft she doth condemne what they preferre,
For with a power aboue the Sense, she sees.

Of the Soule of Man 241

Therefore no Sense the precious ioyes conceiues,
Which in her priuate contemplations bee ;
For then the rauish't spirit the Senses leaues,
Hath her owne powers, and proper actions free.

Her harmonies are sweet, and full of skill,
When on the Bodie's instrument she playes ;
But the proportions of the wit and will,
Those sweete accords, are euen the angel's layes.

These tunes of Reason are Amphion's lyre,
Wherewith he did the Thebane citie found ;
These are the notes wherewith the heauenly quire,
The praise of Him which made the heauen doth
sound.

Then her selfe-being nature shines in this,
That she performes her noblest works alone ;
" The worke, the touch-stone of the nature is,
" And by their operations, things are knowne.

THAT THE SOULE is MORE THEN A PERFECTION

OR REFLECTION OF THE SENSE

A

RE they not sencelesse then, that thinke the

Soule

Nought but a fine perfection of the Sense ;
Or of the formes which fancie doth enroule,
A quicke resulting, and a consequence f
16

242 Philosophy in Poetry

What is it then that doth the Sense accuse,
Both of false judgement 's, and fond appetites ?
What makes vs do what Sense doth most refuse?
Which oft in torment of the Sense delights ?

Sense thinkes the planets, spheares not much

asunder;

WThat tels vs then their distance is so farre?
Sense thinks the lightning borne before the

thunder;
What tels vs then they both together are ?

When men seem crows far off vpon a towre,

Sense saith, th' are crows ; what makes vs think

them men?

When we in agues, thinke all sweete things sowre,
What makes vs know our tongue's false iudge-

ment then?

What power was that, whereby Medea saw,

And well approu'd, and prais'd the better course,
W7hen her rebellious Sense did so withdraw
Her feeble powers, as she pursu'd the worse?

Did Sense perswade Vlisses not to heare

The mermaid's songs, which so his men did

please ;

As they were all perswaded, through the eare
To quit the ship, and leape into the seas f

Of the Soule of Man 243

Could any power of Sense the Romane moue,
To burn his own right hand with courage stout?
Could Sense make Marius sit vnbound, and

proue
The cruell lancing of the knotty gout?

Doubtlesse in Man there is a nature found,
Beside the Senses, and aboue them farre ;
"Though most men being in sensuall pleasures

drownd,
" It seemes their Soules but in their Senses are.

If we had nought but Sense, then onely they

Should haue sound minds, which haue their

Senses sound ;

But Wisdome growes, when Senses doe decay,
And Folly most in quickest Sense is found.

If we had nought but Sense, each liuing wight,
Which we call brute, would be more sharp then

we;

As hauing Sense's apprehensiue might,
In a more cleere, and excellent degree.

But they doe want that quicke discoursing power,
Which doth in vs the erring Sense correct ;
Therefore the bee did sucke the painted flower,
And birds, of grapes, the cunning shadow, peckt.

244 Philosophy in Poetry

Sense outsides knows ; the Soule throgh al things

sees;
Sense, circumstance ; she, doth the substance

view;

Sense sees the barke, but she, the life of trees ;
Sense heares the sounds, but she, the concords

true.

But why doe I the Soule and Sense diuide?

When Sense is but a power, which she extends;
Which being in diuers parts diuersifide,
\ The diuers formes of obiects apprehends?

This power spreds outward, but the root doth grow
In th' inward Soule, which onely doth perceiue ;
For th' eyes and eares no more their obiects

know,
Then glasses know what faces they receiue.

For if we chance to fixe our thoughts elsewhere,
Although our eyes be ope, we cannot see ;
And if one power did not both see and heare,
Our sights and sounds would alwayes double be.

Then is the Soule a nature, which containes
The powre of Sense, within a greater power
Which doth imploy and vse the Senses paines,
But sits and rules within her priuate bower.

Gf the Soule of Man 245

THAT THE SOULE is MORE THEN THE TEMPER-
ATURE OF THE HUMORS OF THE BODY

"TFshee doth then the subtill Sense excell,

How gross are they that drown her in the

blood !

Or in the bodie's humors tempred well,
As if in them such high perfection stood?

As if most skill in that Musician were,

Which had the best, and best tun'd instrument ;
As if the pensill neate and colours cleare,
Had power to make the Painter excellent.

Why doth not beautie then refine the wit?
And good complexion rectifie the will?
Why doth not health bring wisdom still with it?
Why doth not sicknesse make men bruitish still?

Who can in memory ', or wit, or will,

Or ayre, or fire, or earth, or water finde?
What alchymist can draw, with all his skil,
The quintessence of these, out of the mind ?

If th' elements which haue nor life, nor sense,
Can breed in vs so great a powre as this ;
Why giue they not themselues like excellence,
Or other things wherein their mixture is?

246 Philosophy in Poetry

If she were but the Bodie's qualitie

Then would she be with it sicke, maiirid and

blind ;

But we perceiue where these priuations be
A healthy, perfect, and s harp e- sighted mind.

If she the bodie's nature did pertake,

Her strength would with the bodie's strength

decay ;

But when the bodie's strongest sinewes slake,
Then is the Soule most actiue, quicke and

gay-

If she were but the bodie's accident,
And her sole being did in it subsist;
As white in snow ; she might her selfe absent,
And in the bodie's substance not be mist.

But it on her, not shee on it depends ;

For shee the body doth sustaine and cherish ;
Such secret powers of life to it she lends,
That when they faile, then doth the body
perish.

Since then the Soule works by her selfe alone,
Springs not from Sense, nor humors, well agreeing ;
Her nature is peculiar, and her owne :
She is a substance, and a perfect being.

Of the Soule of Man 247

THAT THE SOULE is A SPIRIT

T> UT though this substance be the root of Sense,
•^ Sense knowes her not, which doth but bodies

know ;

Shee is a spirit, and heauenly influence,
Which from the fountaine of God's Spirit doth
flow.

Shee is a Spirit, yet not like ayre, or winde,
Nor like the spirits about the heart or braine ;
Nor like those spirits which alchymists do find,
When they in euery thing seeke gold in vaine.

For shee all natures vnder heauen doth passe ;
Being like those spirits, which God's bright face

do see;

Or like Himselfe, Whose image once she was,
Though now (alas !) she scarce His shadow bee.

Yet of the formes, she holds the first degree,
That are to grosse materiall bodies knit;
Yet shee her selfe is bodilesse and free ;
And though confin'd, is almost infinite.

248 Philosophy in Poetry

THAT IT CANNOT BE A BODY

Were she a body how could she remaine
Within this body, which is lesse then she ?
Or how could she the world's great shape contain,
And in our narrow brests contained bee ?

All bodies are confin'd within some place,
But she all place within her selfe confines ;
All bodies haue their measure, and their space,
But who can draw the Soule's dimensiue lines?

No body can at once two formes admit,
Except the one the other doe deface ;
But in the soule ten thousand formes do sit,
And none intrudes into her neighbour's place.

All bodies are with other bodies fild,

But she receiues both heauen and earth together ;
Nor are their formes by rash incounter spild,
For there they stand, and neither toucheth either.

Nor can her wide imbracements filled bee ;

For they that most, and greatest things embrace,

Inlarge thereby their minds' capacitie,

As streames inlarg'd, inlarge the channel's space.

Of the Soule of Man 249

All things receiu'd, doe such proportion take,
As those things haue, wherein they are receiu* d:
So little glasses little faces make,
And narrow webs on narrow frames be weau'd ;

Then what vast body must we make the mind
\Vherin are men, beasts, trees, towns, seas, and

lands ;

And yet each thing a proper place doth find,
And each thing in the true proportion stands?

Doubtlesse this could not bee, but that she turnes
Bodies to spirits, by sublimation strange ;
As fire conuerts to fire the things it burnes
As we our meats into our nature change.

From their grosse matter she abstracts the formes,
And drawes a kind of qtiintessence from things ;
Which to her proper nature she transformes,
To bear them light on her celestiall wings :

This doth she, when, from things particular,
She doth abstract the universall kinds;
Which bodilesse and immateriall are,
And can be lodg'd but onely in our minds:

And thus from diuers accidents and acts,
Which doe within her obseruation fall,
She goddesses, and powers diuine, abstracts :
As Nature, Fortune t and the Verities all.

250 Philosophy in Poetry

Againe, how can she seuerall bodies know,
If in her selfe a bodies forme she beare?
How can a mirror sundry faces show,
If from all shapes and formes it be not cleare?

Nor could we by our eyes all colours learne,
Except our eyes were of all colours voide ;
Nor sundry tastes can any tongue discerne,
Which is with grosse and bitter humors cloide.

Nor may a man of passions Judge aright,

Except his minde bee from all passions free ;
Nor can a Judge his office well acquite,
If he possest of either partie bee.

If lastly, this quicke power a body were,
Were it as swift as is the winde or fire ;
(Whose atomies doe th' one down side-waies

beare,
And make the other in pyramids aspire :)

Her nimble body yet in time must moue,
And not in instants through all places slide ;
But she is nigh, and farre, beneath, aboue,
In point of time, which thought cannot deuide :

She is sent as soone to China as to Spaine,
And thence returnes, as soone as shee is sent ;
She measures with one time, and with one paine,
An ell of silke, and heauen's wide spreading tent.

Of the Soule of Man 257

As then the Soule a substance hath alone,
Besides the Body in which she is confin'd ;
So hath she not a body of her owne,
But is a spirit, and immateriall minde.

THAT THE SOULE is CREATED IMMEDIATELY
BY GOD

Since body and sonle haue such diuersities,

Well might we muse, how first their match began ;
But that we learne, that He that spread the skies,
And fixt the Earth, first form'd the soule in man.

This true Prometheus first made Man of earth,
And shed in him a beame of heauenly fire ;
Now in their mother's wombs before their birth,
Doth in all sonnes of men their soules inspire. ,

And as Minerua is in fables said,

From loue, without a mother to proceed ;
So our true loue, without a mother's ay'd,
Doth daily millions of Mineruas breed.

252 Philosophy in Poetry

ERRONIOUS OPINIONS OF THE CREATION OF
SOULES

T

HEN neither from eternitie before,

Nor from the time when Time's first point

begun;
Made He all soules : which now he keepes in

store,
Some in the moone, and others in the sunne :

Nor in a secret cloyster doth Hee keepe

These virgin-spirits, vntill their marriage-day ;
Nor locks them vp in chambers, where they

sleep,
Till they awake, within these beds of clay.

Nor did He first a certaine number make,
Infusing part in beasts, and part in men,
And, as vnwilling further paines to take,
Would make no more then those He framed then.

So that the widow Soule her body dying,
Vnto the next-borne body married was ;
And so by often changing and supplying,
Mens' soules to beasts, and beasts to men did
passe.

Of the Soule of Man 253

(These thoughts are fond ; for since the bodies

borne

Be more in number farre then those that dye ;
Thousands must be abortiue, and forlorne,
Ere others' deaths to them their soules supply.)

But as God's handmaid, Nature, doth create
Bodies in time distinct, and order due ;
So God giues soules the like successiue date,
Which Him selfe makes, in bodies formed new :

Which Him selfe makes, of no materiall thing ;
For vnto angels He no power hath giuen,
Either to forme the shape, or stuffe to bring
From ayre or fire, or substance of the heauen.

Nor He in this doth Nature1 s seruice vse ;

For though from bodies, she can bodies bring,
Yet could she neuer soules from Soules traduce,
As fire from fire, or light from light doth spring.

OBJECTION: — THAT THE SOULE is EXTRADUCE

A

LAS ! that some, that were great lights of old,
And in their hands the lampe of God did

beare ;

Some reuerend Fathers did this error hold,
Hauing their eyes dim'd with religious feare !

254 Philosophy in Poetry

For when (say they) by Rule of Faith we find,
That euery sonle vnto her body knit,
Brings from the mother's wombe, the sinne of

kind,
The roote of all the ills she doth commit

How can we say that God the Settle doth make,
But we must make Him author of her sinne?
Then from man's soule she doth beginning

take,
Since in man's soule corruption did begin.

For if God make her, first He makes her ill,

(Which God forbid our thoghts should yeeld

vnto ! )

Or makes the body her faire forme to spill,
Which, of it selfe it had no power to doe.

Not Adam's body but his soule did sinne
And so her selfe vnto corruption brought;
But the poore soiile corrupted is within,
Ere shee had sinn'd, either in act, or thought:

And yet we see in her such powres diuine,

As we could gladly thinke, from God she came ;
Faine would we make Him Author of the wine,
If for the dregs we could some other blame.

T

Of the Soule of Man 255

THE ANSWERE TO THE OBJECTION

HUS these good men with holy zeale were

blind,

When on the other part the truth did shine ;
Whereof we doe cleare demonstrations find,
By light of Nature, and by light Diuine.

None are so grosse as to contend for this,
That soules from bodies may traduced bee ;
Betweene whose natures no proportion is,
When roote and branch in nature still agree.

But many subtill wits haue iustifi'd,

That soules from soules spiritually may spring;
Which (if the nature of the soule be tri'd)
Will euen in Nature proue as grosse a thing.

REASONS DRAWNE FROM NATURE

TTOR all things made, are either made of nought,
Or made of stuffe that ready made doth

stand ;

Of nought no creature euer formed ought,
For that is proper to th' Almightie's hand.

256 Philosophy in Poetry

If then the soule another soule doe make,
Because her power is kept within a bound,
Shee must some former stuffe or matter take ;
But in the soule there is no matter found.

Then if her heauenly Forme doe not agree
With any matter which the world containes ;
Then she of nothing must created bee,
And to create, to God alone pertaines.

Againe, if soules doe other soules beget,

'T is by themselues, or by the bodie's power;
If by themselues, what doth their working let,
But they might soules engender euery houre?

If by the body, how can wit and will
loyne with the body onely in this act?
Sith when they doe their other works fulfill,
They from the body doe themselues abstract?

Againe, if soules of soules begotten were,

Into each other they should change and moue ;
And change and motion still corruption beare ;
How shall we then the soule immortall proue ?

If lastly, soules doe generation vse,

Then should they spread incorruptible seed ;
What then becomes of that which they doe lose,
When th' acts of generation doe not speed?

Of the Soule of Man 257

And though the soule could cast spirituall seed,
Yet would she not, because she neuer dies;
For mortall things desire their like to breed,
That so they may their kind immortalize.

Therefore the angels, sonnes of God are nam'd,
And marry not, nor are in marriage giuen ;
Their spirits and ours are of one substance fram'd,
And haue one Father, euen the Lord of heauen:

Who would at first, that in each other thing,
The earth and water liuing soules should breed ;
But that man's soule whom He would make their

king,
Should from Himselfe immediatly proceed.

And when He took the woman from man's side,
Doubtlesse Himselfe inspir'd her soule alone;
For 't is not said, He did man's soule diuide,
But took flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone.

Lastly, God being made Man for man's owne sake,
And being like Man in all, except in sin,
His body from the virgin 's wombe did take ;
But all agree, God form' d His soule within.

Then is the soule from God ; so Pagans say,

Which saw by Nature's light her heauenly kind ;
Naming her kin to God, and God's bright ray,

A citizen of Heauen to Earth confined.

17

258 PUlosop'hy in Poetry

But now, I feele, they plucke me by the eare
Whom my young Muse so boldly termed blind ;
And craue more heauenly light, that cloud to clear,
Which makes them think God doth not make
the mind.

REASONS DRAWNE FROM DIUINITY

doubtlesse makes her, and doth make her
good,

And graffes her in the body, there to spring ;
Which, though it be corrupted, flesh and blood
Can no way to the Soule corruption bring:

And yet this Soule (made good by God at first,
And not corrupted by the bodie's ill)
Euen in the wombe is sinfull, and accurst,
Ere shee can iudge by wit or cJiuse by will.

Yet is not God the Author of her sinne

Though Author of her being, and being there;
And if we dare to iudge our Iudge herein,
He can condemne vs, and Himselfe can cleare.

First, God from infinite eternitie

Decreed, what hath beene, is, or shall bee done ;
And was resolu'd, that euery man should bee,
And in his turne, his race of life should run:

Of tbe Soule of Man 259

And so did purpose all the soules to make,
That euer haue beene made, or ener shall ;
And that their being they should onely take
In humane bodies, or not bee at all.

Was it then fit that such a weake euent

(W\_e\aknesse it selfe, — the sinne and fall of

Man)

His counsel's execution should preuent,
Decreed and fixt before the World began?

Or that one penall law by Adam broke,
Should make God breake His owne eternall

Law ;

The setled order of the World reuoke,
And change all forms of things, which He fore-
saw?

Could Eue's weake hand, extended to the tree,
In sunder rend that adamantine chaine,
Whose golden links, effects and causes be,
And which to God's owne chair doth fixt re-
maine.

O could we see, how cause from cause doth spring !
How mutually they linkt and folded are !
And heare how oft one disagreeing string
The harmony doth rather make then marre ?

260 Philosophy in Poetry

And view at once, how death by sinne is brought,
And how from death, a better life doth rise,
How this God's iustice, and His mercy tought :
We this decree would praise, as right and wise.

But we that measure times by first and last,
The sight of things successiuely, doe take;
When God on all at once His view doth cast,
And of all times doth but one instant make.

All in Himself e as in a glasse Hee sees,

For from Him , by Him , through Him , all things bee :

His sight is not discoursiue, by degrees,

But seeing the whole, each single part doth see.

He lookes on Adam, as a root, or well,

And on his heires, as branches, and as streames ;
He sees all men as one Man, though they dwell
In sundry cities, and in sundry realmes:

And as the roote and branch are but one tree,
And well and streame doe but one riuer make ;
So, if the root and well corrupted bee,
The streame and branch fat same corruption take :

So, when the root and fountaine of Mankind
Did draw corruption, and God's curse, by sin ;
This was a charge that all his heires did bind,
And all his offspring grew corrupt therein.

Of the Soule of Man 261

And as when the hand doth strike, the Man offends,
(For part from whole, Law seuers not in this)
So Adam' s sinne to the whole kind extends ;
For all their natures are but part of his.

Therefore this sinne of kind, not personall,
But reall and hereditary was ;
The guilt whereof, and punishment to all,
By course of Nature, and of Law doth passe.

For as that easie Law was giuen to all,
To ancestor and heire, to first and last;
So was the first transgression generall,
And all did plucke the fruit and all did tast.

Of this we find some foot-steps in our Law,

Which doth her root from God and Nature take ;
Ten thousand men she doth together draw,
And of them all, one Corporation make :

Yet these, and their successors, are but one,
And if they gaine or lose their liberties ;
They harme, or profit not themselues alone,
But such as in succeeding times shall rise.

And so the ancestor, and all his heires,

Though they in number passe the stars of heauen
Are still but one ; his forfeitures are theirs,
And vnto them are his aduancements giuen :

262 Philosophy in Poetry

His ciuill acts doe binde and bar them all;
And as from Adam, all corruption take,
So, if the father's crime be capitall
In all the bloud, Law doth corruption make.

Is it then iust with vs, to dis-inherit

The vnborn nephewes for the father's fault?
And to aduance againe for one man's merit,
A thousand heires, that have deserved nought?

And is not God's decree as iust as ours,

If He, for Adams sinne, his sonnes depriue,
Of all those natiue vertues, and those powers,
Which He to him, and to his race did giue?

For what is this contagious sinne of kinde
But a priuation of that grace within?
And of that great rich dowry of the minde
Which all had had, but for the first man's sin?

If then a man, on light conditions gaine
A great estate, to him and his, for euer ;
If wilfully he forfeit it againe
Who doth bemone his heire or blame the giuer?

So, though God make the Soule good, rich and faire,
Yet when her forme is to the body knit,
Which makes the Man, which man is Adam'i

heire
Justly forth-with He takes His grace from it:

Of the Soule of Man 263

And then the soule being first from nothing

brought,

When God's grace failes her, doth to nothing fall ;
And this declining pronenesse unto nought,
Is euen that sinne that we are borne withall.

Yet not alone the first good qualities,

Which in the first soule were, depriued are ;
But in their place the contrary doe rise,
And reall spots of sinne her beauty marre.

Nor is it strange, that Adam's ill desart
Should be transferd vnto his guilty Race ;

. When Christ His grace and iustice doth impart
To men vniust, and such as haue no grace.

Lastly, the Soule were better so to bee

Borne slaue to sinne, then not to be at all ;
Since (if she do belieue) One sets her free,
That makes her mount the higher for her fall.,

Yet this the curious wits will not content ;
They yet will know (sith God foresaw this ill)
Why His high Prouidence did not preuent
The declination of the first man's will.

If by His Word He had the current staid
Of Adam's will, which was by nature free ;
It had bene one, as if His Word had said,
I will henceforth that Man no man shall bee.

264 Philosophy in Poetry

For what is Man without a moouing mind,
Which hath a Judging wit, and chusing will?
Now, if God's power should her election bind,
Her motions then v/ould cease and stand all still.

And why did God in man this soule infuse,
But that he should his Maker know and lone f
Now, if loue be compeld and cannot chuse,
How can it gratefull or thankeworthy proue?

Loue must free-hearted be, and voluntary,
And not enchanted, or by Fate constraind ;
Nor like that loue, which did Ulisses carry,
To Circe's ile, with mighty charmes enchaind.

Besides, were we vnchangeable in will,

And of a wit that nothing could mis-deeme ;
Equall to God, Whose wisedome shineth still,
And neuer erres, we might our selues esteeme.

So that if Man would be vnuariable,

He must be God, or like a rock or tree ;
For euen the perfect Angels were not stable,
But had a fall more desperate then wee.

Then let vs praise that Power, which makes vs be
Men as we are, and rest contented so ;
And knowing Man's fall was curiositie,
Admire God's counsels, which we cannot know.

Of tbe Soule of Man

And let vs know that God the Maker is
Of all the Soules, in all the men that be :
Yet their corruption is no fault of His,
But the first man's that broke God's first decree.

WHY THE SOULE is UNITED TO THE BODY

*~^r^HIS substance, and this spirit of God's owne

making,

Is in the body plact, and planted heere ;
" That both of God, and of the world partaking^
" Of all that is, Man might the image beare.

God first made angels bodilesse, pure minds,
Then other things, which mindlesse bodies be;
Last, He made Man, th' horizon 'twixt both kinds,
In whom we doe the World's abridgement see.

Besides, this World below did need one wight,
WThich might thereof distinguish euery part;
Make vse thereof, and take therein delight,
And order things with industry and art:

Which also God might in His works admire,

And here beneath, yeeld Him both praier and

praise ;

As there, aboue, the holy angels quire
Doth spread His glory with spirituall layes.

266 Philosophy in Poetry

Lastly, the bruite, unreasonable wights,
Did want a visible king on them to raigne :
And God, Himselfe thus to the World vnites,
That so the World might endlesse blisse obtaine.

IN WHAT MANNER THE SOULE IS UNITED TO
THE BODY

TlUT how shall we this union well expresse?

"^ Nought ties the soule ; her subtiltie is such
She moues the bodie, which she doth possesse,
Yet no part toucheth, but by Vertue's touch.

Then dwels shee not therein as in a tent,
Nor as a pilot in his ship doth sit;
Nor as the spider in his web is pent;
Nor as the waxe retaines the print in it;

Nor as a vessell water doth containe ;
Nor as one liquor in another shed ;
Nor as the heat doth in the fire remaine ;
Nor as a voice throughout the ayre is spread :

But as the faire and cheerfull Morning light,
Doth here and there her siluer beames impart,
And in an instant doth herselfe vnite
To the transparent ayre, in all, and part:

Of the Soule of Man 267

Still resting whole, when blowes th' ayre diuide;
Abiding pure, when th' ayre is most corrupted ;
Throughout the ayre, her beams dispersing wide,
And when the ayre is tost, not interrupted :

So doth the piercing Soule the body fill,
Being all in all, and all in part diffus'd ;
Indiuisible, incorruptible still,
Not forc't, encountred, troubled or confus'd.

And as the sunne aboue, the light doth bring,
Though we behold it in the ayre below ;
So from th' Eternall Light the Soule doth spring,
Though in the body she her powers doe show.

HOW THE SOUL DOTH EXERCISE HER POWERS
IN THE BODY

T) UT as the world's sunne doth effects beget,

Diuers, in diuers places euery day;
Here A utumnes temperature, there Summer's heat,
Here flowry Spring-tide, and there Winter gray :

Eere Euen, there Morne, here Noone, there Day,

there Night ;
Melts wax, dries clay, mak[e]s flowrs, som

quick, som dead ;

Makes the More black, and th' European white,
Th' American tawny, and.th' East-Indian red:

268 Philosophy in Poetry

So in our little World : this soule of ours,
Being onely one, and to one body tyed,
Doth vse, on diuers obiects diuers powers,
And so are her effects diuersified.

THE VEGETATIUE OR QUICKENING POWER

T ~TER quickening power in euery liuing part,
Doth as a nurse, or as a mother serue ;
And doth employ her oeconomicke art,
And busie care, her houshold to preserue.

Here she attracts, and there she doth retaine,
There she decocts, and doth the food prepare ;
There she distributes it to euery vaine,
There she expels what she may fitly spare.

This power to Martha may compared be,

Which busie was, the hous ho Id-things to doe ;

Or to a Dryas, liuing in a tree :

For euen to trees this power is proper too.

And though the Soule may not this power extend
Out of the body, but still vse it there ;
She hath a power which she abroad doth send,
Which views and searcheth all things euery
where.

Of the Soule of Man 269

THE POWER OF SENSE

' I ^HIS power is Sense, which from abroad doth

bring

The colour, taste, and touch , and sent, and sound ;
The quantitie> and shape of euery thing
Within th' Earth's center, or Heauen's circle
found.

This power, in parts made fit, fit obiects takes,
Yet not the things, but forms of things receiues ;
As when a scale in waxe impression makes,
The print therein, but not it selfe it leaues.

And though things sensible be numberlesse,
But onely fiue the Senses' organs be ;
And in those fiue, all things their formes ex-

presse,
Which we can touchy taste, feele, or heare, or see.

These are the windows throgh the which she

views

The light of knowledge, which is life's loadstar:
" And yet while she these spectacles doth vse,
" Oft worldly things seeme greater then they are.

270 Philosophy in Poetry

SIGHT

THIRST, the two eyes that haue the seeing power,

Stand as one watchman, spy, or sentinell ;
Being plac'd aloft, within the head's high tower;
And though both see, yet both but one thing tell.

These mirrors take into their little space

The formes of moone and sun, and euery starre ;
Of euery body and of euery place,
Which with the World's wide armes embraced
are:

Yet their best obiect, and their noblest vse,
Hereafter in another World will be ;
When God in them shall heauenly light infuse,
That face to face they may their Maker see.

Here are they guides, which doe the body lead,
Which else would stumble in eternal night;
Here in this world they do much knowledge

read,
And are the casements which admit most light:

They are her farthest reaching instrument,

Yet they no beames vnto their obiects send ;
- But all the rays are from their obiects sent,
And in the eyes with pointed angles end :

Of the Soule of Man 271

If th' obiects be farre off, the rayes doe meet
In a sharpe point, and so things seeme but small ;
If they be neere, their rayes doe spread and fleet,
And make broad points, that things seeme great
withall.

Lastly, nine things to Sight required are ;
The power to see, the light, the visible thing,
Being not too small, too thin, too nigh, too farre,
Cleare space, and time, the forme distinct to
bring.

Thus we see how the Soule doth vse the eyes,
As instruments of her quicke power of sight ;
Hence do th' Arts opticke and faire painting rise :
Painting, which doth all gentle minds delight.

HEARING

let vs heare how she the Eares imployes :
Their office is the troubled ayre to take,
Which in their mazes formes a sound or noyse,
Whereof her selfe doth true distinction make.

These wickets of the Soule are plac't on hie
Because all sounds doe lightly mount aloft;
And that they may not pierce too violently,
They are delaied with turnes, and windings oft.

272 Philosophy in Poetry

For should the voice directly strike the braine,
It would astonish and confuse it much ;
Therfore these plaits and folds the sound re-

straine,
That it the organ may more gently touch.

As streames, which with their winding banks doe

play,
Stopt by their creeks, run softly through the

plaine;

So in th' Eares' labyrinth the voice doth stray,
And doth with easie motion touch the braine.

It is the slowest, yet the daintiest sense;

For euen the Eares of such as haue no skill,
Perceiue a discord, and conceiue offence ;
And knowing not what is good, yet find the ill.

And though this sense first gentle Musicke found,
Her proper obiect is the speech of men ;
But that speech chiefely which God's heraulds

sound,
When their tongs vtter what His Spirit did pen.

Our Eyes haue lids, our Eares still ope we see,
Quickly to heare how euery tale is prooued ;
Our Eyes still moue, our Eares vnmoued bee,
That though we hear quick we be not quickly
moued.

Of the Soule of Man 273

Thus by the organs of the Eye and Rare,

The Soule with knowledge doth her selfe endue ;
" Thus she her prison, may with pleasure beare,
" Hauing such prospects, all the world to view.

These conduit-pipes of knowledge feed the Mind,
But th' other three attend the Body still ;
For by their seruices the Soule doth find,
What things are to the body, good or ill.

TASTE

'"IT^HE bodies life with meats and ayre is fed,

Therefore thesoule doth vse the tasting power,
In veines, which through the tongue and palate

spred,
Distinguish euery relish, sweet and sower.

This is the bodie's nurse; but since man's wit
Found th' art of cookery, to delight his sense ;
More bodies are consum'd and kild with it,
Then with the sword, famine, or pestilence.

SMELLING

', in the nosthriis she doth vse the smell:
As God the breath of life in them did giue,
So makes He now this power in them to dwell,

To iudge all ayres. whereby we breath and Hue.
18

Philosophy in Poetry

This sense is also mistresse of an Art,

Which to soft people sweete perfumes doth sell ;
Though this deare Art doth little good impart,
"Sith they smell best, that doe of nothing smell.

And yet good sents doe purifie the braine,
Awake the fancie, and the wits refine ;

. Hence old Deuotion, incense did ordaine
To make mens' spirits apt for thoughts diuine.

FEELING

T ASTLY, the feeling power, which is Life's

**^ root,

Through euery liuing part it selfe doth shed ;
By sinewes, which extend from head to foot,
And like a net, all ore the body spred.

Much like a subtill spider, which doth sit
In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide ;
If ought doe touch the vtmost thred of it,
Shee feeles it instantly on euery side.

By Touch, the first pure qualities we learne,

Which quicken all things, hote, cold, moist, and

dry ;
By Touch, hard, soft, rough, smooth, we doe dis-

cerne ;
By Touch, sweet pleasure, and sharpe paine, we try.

Of tbe Soule of Man 275

' I VHESE are the outward instruments of Sense,
These are the guards which euery thing

must passe

Ere it approch the mind's intelligence,
Or touch the Fantasie, Wifs looking-glasse.

THE IMAGINATION OR COMMON SENSE

A ND yet these porters, which all things admit,
Themselues perceiue not, nor discerne the

things ;

One common power doth in the forehead sit,
Which all their proper formes together brings.

For all those nerues, which spirits of Sence doe

beare,

And to those outward organs spreading goe ;
Vnited are, as in a center there,
And there this power those sundry formes doth

know.

Those outward organs present things receiue,
This inward Sense doth absent things retaine ;
Yet straight transmits all formes shee doth per-
ceiue,
Vnto a higher region of the braine.

276 Philosophy in Poetry

THE FANTASIE

TT 7 HE RE Fantasie, neere hand-maid to the
*y mind,

Sits and beholds, and doth discerne them all ;
Compounds in one, things diuers in their kind ;
Compares the black and white, the great and
small.

Besides, those single formes she doth esteeme,
And in her ballance doth their values trie;
Where some things good, and some things ill

doe seem,
And neutrall some, in \\vc fantastickc eye.

This busie power is working day and night;
For when the outward senses rest doe take,
A thousand dreames, fantasticall and light,
With fluttring wings doe keepe her still awake.

THE SENSITIUE MEMORIE

T7ET alwayes all may not afore her bee ;

Successiuely, she this and that intends ;
Therefore such formes as she doth cease to

see,
To Memories large volume shee commends.

Of the Soule of Man 277

The lidger-booke lies in the braine behinde,
Like lanus* eye, which in his poll was set;
The lay-man's tables, store-house of the mind,
Which doth remember much, and much forget.

Heere Sense's apprehension, end doth take ;
As when a stone is into water cast,
One circle doth another circle make,
Till the last circle touch the banke at last.

THE PASSIONS OF SENSE

T>UT though the apprehensiue power doe pause,
•^ The motiue vertue then begins to moue ;
Which in the heart below doth PASSIONS cause,
loy, grief e, andfeare, and hope, and hate, and lone.

These passions haue a free commanding might,
And diuers actions in our life doe breed ;
For, all acts done without true Reason's light,
Doe from the passion of the Sense proceed.

But sith the braine doth lodge the powers of Sense,
How makes it in the heart those passions spring?
The mutuall loue, the kind intelligence
'Twixt heart and braine, this sympathy doth
bring.

278 Philosophy in Poetry

From the kind heat, which in the heart doth raigne,
The spirits of life doe their begining take ;
These spirits of life ascending to the braine,
When they come there, the spirits of Sense do
make.

These spirits of Sense, in Fantasie's High Court,
ludge of the formes of obiects, ill or well ;
And so they send a good or ill report
Downe to the heart, where all affections dwell.

If the report bee good, it causeth hue,
And longing hope, and well-assured toy:
If it bee ill, then doth it hatred moue,
And trembling feare, and vexing grief Js annoy.

Yet were these naturall affections good :

(For they which want them, blockes or deuils be)
If Reason in her first perfection stood,
That she might Nature's passions rectifie.

THE MOTION OF LIFE

TDESIDES, another metiut^powcr doth rise

Out of the heart; from whose pure blood

do spring

The vitall spirits ; which, borne in arteries,
Continuall motion to all parts doe bring.

Of the Soule of Man 279

THE LOCALL MOTION

' I VHIS makes the pulses beat, and lungs respire,
This holds the sinewes like a bridle's reines ;
And makes the Body to aduance, retire,
To turne or stop, as she them slacks, or
straines.

Thus the soule tunes the bodies instrument ;

These harmonies she makes with life and sense ;

The organs fit are by the body lent,

But th' actions flow from the Soule's influence.

THE INTELLECTUALL POWERS OF THE SOULE

B

UT now I haue a will, yet want a wit,

To expresse the working of the wit and

will;

Which, though their root be to the body knit,
Vse not the body, when they vse their skill.

These powers the nature of the Soule declare,
For to man's soule these onely proper bee ;
For on the Earth no other wights there are
That haue these heauenly powers, but only we.

280 Philosophy in Poetry

T

THE WIT OR UNDERSTANDING

HE WIT, the pupill of the Soule's cleare eye,
And in man's world, the onely shining

starr e;

Lookes in the mirror of the Fantasie,
Where all the gatherings of the Senses are.

From thence this power thet shapes of things ab-
stracts,

And them within her passiue part receiues ;
Which are enlightned by that part which acts,
And so the formes of single things perceiues.

But after, by discoursing to and fro,
Anticipating, and comparing things ; .
She doth all vniversall natures know,
And all effects into their causes brings.

REASON, VNDERSTANDING

"\T7HEN she rates things and moues from

ground to ground,

The name of Reason she obtaines by this ;
But when by Reason she the truth hath found,
And standethfixt, she VNDERSTANDING is.

w

Of the Soule of Man 281

OPINION, JUDGEMENT

HEN her assent she lightly doth encline

To either part, she is OPINION light :
But when she doth by principles define
A certaine truth, she ha.th true Judgement's

sight.

And as from Senses, Reason's worke doth spring,
So many reasons understanding1 gaine ;
And many understandings, knowledge bring;
And by much knowledge, wisdome we obtaine.

So, many stayres we must ascend vpright
Ere we attaine to Wisdome 's high degree ;
So doth this Earth eclipse our Reason's light.
Which else (in instants) would like angels see.

Yet hath the Soule a dowrie naturall,

And sparkes of Alight, some common things to

see;

Not being a blancke where nought is writ at all,
But what the writer will, may written be

For Nature in man's heart her lawes doth pen;
Prescribing truth to wit, and good to will;
Which doe accuse, or else excuse all men,
For euery thought or practise, good or ill :

282 Philosophy in Poetry

And yet these sparkes grow almost infinite,
Making the World, and all therein their food ;
As fire so spreads as no place holdeth it,
Being nourisht still, with new supplies of wood.

And though these sparkes were almost quencht

with sin,

Yet they whom that lust One hath iustifide ;
Haue them encreasd with heauenly light within,
And like the widowers oyle still multiplide.

A

THE POWER OF WILL

ND as this wit should goodnesse truely know,
We haue a Will, which that true good

should chuse ;
Though Wil do oft (when wit false formes doth

show)
Take ill for good, and good for ill refuse.

THE RELATIONS BETWIXT WIT AND WILL

T T TILL puts in practice what the Wit deuiseth:
Will euer acts, and Wit contemplates still ;
And as from Witt the power of wisedome riseth,
All other vertues daughters are of Will.

Of the Soule of Man 283

Will is the prince, and Wit the counseller,
Which doth for common good in Counsell sit;
And when Wit is resolu'd, Will lends her power
To execute what is aduis'd by Wit.

Wit is the mind's chief Judge, which doth controule
Of Fancies Court the Judgements, false and

vaine ;

Will holds the royall septer in the soule
And on the passions of the heart doth raigne.

Will is as free as any emperour,
Naught can restraine her gentle libertie ;
No tyrant, nor no torment, hath the power,
To make vs will, when we vnwilling bee.

THE INTELLECTUALL MEMORIE

/"T~AO these high powers, a store-house doth per-

taine,

Where they all arts and generall reasons lay;
Which in the Soule, euen after death, remaine
And no Lethaan flood can wash away.

This is the Soule, and these her vertues bee ;

Which, though they haue their sundry proper

ends,

And one exceeds another in degree,
Yet each on other mutually depends.

284 Philosophy in Poetry

Our Wit is giuen, Almighty God to know ;
Our Will is giuen to loue Him, being knowne ;
But God could not be known to vs below,
But by His workes which through the sense are
shown.

And as the Wit doth reape the fruits of Sense,
So doth the quickning power the senses feed ;
Thus while they doe their sundry gifts dispence,
" The best, the seruice of the least doth need.

Euen so the King his Magistrates do serue,
Yet Commons feed both magistrate and king;
The Commons' peace the magistrates preserue
By borrowed power, which from the Prince doth
spring.

The quickning power would be, and so would rest ;
The Sense would not be onely, but be well;
But Wifs ambition longeth to the best,
For it desires in endlesse blisse to dwell.

And these three powers, three sorts of men doe

make:

For some, like plants, their veines doe onely fill;
And some, like beasts, their senses' pleasure

take;
And some, like angels, doe contemplate still.

Of the Soule of Man 285

Therefore the fables turnd some men to flowres,
And others, did with bruitish formes inuest;
And did of others, make celestiall powers,
Like angels, which still trauell, yet still rest.

Yet these three powers are not three soules, but

one;

As one and two are both containd in three ;
Three being one number by it selfe alone :
A shadow of the blessed Trinitie.

AN ACCLAMATION

/^\ ! what is Man (great Maker of mankind !)

That Thou to him so great respect dost

beare !

That Thou adornst him with so bright a mind,
Mak'st him a king, and euen an angel's peere !

O ! what a liuely life, what heauenly power,
What spreading vertue, what a sparkling fire !
How great, how plentifull, how rich a dower
Dost Thou within this dying flesh inspire !

Thou leau'st Thy print in other works of Thine,
But Thy whole image Thou in Man hast writ;
There cannot be a creature more diuine,
Except (like Thee) it should be infinit.

286 Philosophy in Poetry

But it exceeds man's thought, to thinke how hie
God hath raisd Man, since God a man became ;
The angels doe admire this Misterie,
And are astonisht when they view the same.

THAT THE SOULE is IMMORTAL, AND CANNOT
DIE

hath He giuen these blessings for a day,
Nor made them on the bodie's life depend ;
The Soule though made in time, suruives for aye,
And though it hath beginning, sees no end.

Her onely end, is neuer-ending blisse ;
Which is, tti eternall face of God to see;
Who Last of Ends •, and First of Causes, is :
And to doe this, she must eternall bee.

How senselesse then, and dead a soule hath hee,
Which thinks his soule doth with his body die !
Or thinkes not so, but so would haue it bee,
That he might sinne with more securitie.

For though these light and vicious persons say,
Our Soule is but a smoake, or ayrie blast;
Which, during life, doth in our nostrils play,
And when we die, doth turne to wind at last :

Of the Soule of Man 287*

Although they say, 'Come let us eat and drink e '/
Our life is but a sparke, which quickly dies ;
Though thus they say, they know not what to think,
But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise.

Therefore no heretikes desire to spread
Their light opinions, like these Epicures:
For so the staggering thoughts are comforted,
And other men's assent their doubt assures.

Yet though these men against their conscience

striue,

There are some sparkles in their flintie breasts
Which cannot be extinct, but still reuiue ;
That though they would, they cannot quite bee
beasts ;

But who so makes a mirror of his mind,

And doth with patience view himselfe therein,
His Souths eternitie shall clearely find,
Though th' other beauties be defac't with sin.

REASON I

DRAWNE FROM THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE
THIRST in Man's mind we find an appetite

To learne and know the truth of euery thing ;
Which is co-naturall, and borne with it,
And from the essence of the settle doth spring.

288 Philosophy in Poetry

With this desire, shee hath a natiue might
To find out euery truth, if she had time;
Th' innumerable effects to sort aright,
And by degrees, from cause to cause to clime.

But sith our life so fast away doth slide,
As doth a hungry eagle through the wind,
Or as a ship transported with the tide ;
Which in their passage leaue no print behind ;

Of which swift little time so much we spend,
While some few things we through the sense doe

straine ;

That our short race of life is at an end,
Ere we the principles of skill attaine.

Or God (which to vaine ends hath nothing done)
In vaine this appetite and power hath giuen ;
Or else our knowledge, which is here begun,
Hereafter must bee perfected in heauen.

God neuer gaue a power to one whole kind,
But most part of that kind did vse the same ;
Most eies haue perfect sight, though some be

blind ;
Most legs can nimbly run, though some be

lame:

Of the Soule of Man 289

But in this life no soule the truth can know
So perfectly, as it hath power to doe ;
If then perfection be not found below,
An higher place must make her mount thereto.

REASON II
DRAWN FROM THE MOTION OF THE SOULE

A GAINE how can shee but immortall bee?

When with the motions of both Will and

Wit,

She still aspireth to eternitie,
And neuer rests, till she attaine to it?

Water in conduit pipes, can rise no higher

Then the wel-head, from whence it first doth

spring:

Then sith to eternall GOD shee doth aspire,
Shee cannot be but an eternall thing.

" All mouing things to other things doe moue,
" Of the same kind, which shews their nature

such;

So earth falls downe and fire doth mount aboue,
Till both their proper elements doe touch.

19

290 Philosophy in Poetry

THE SOUL COMPARED TO A RIUER

And as the moysture, which the thirstie earth
Suckes from the sea, to fill her emptie veines,
From out her wombe at last doth take a

birth,
And runs a Nymph along the grassie plaines :

Long doth shee stay, as loth to leaue the land,
From whose soft side she first did issue make ;
Shee tastes all places, turnes to euery hand,
Her flowry bankes vnwilling to forsake :

Yet Nature so her streames doth lead and carry,
As that her course doth make no finall stay,
Till she her selfe vnto the Ocean marry,
Within whose watry bosome first she lay :

Euen so the Soule which in this earthly mold
The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse ;
Because at first she doth the earth behold,
And onely this materiall world she viewes :

At first her mother-earth she holdeth deare,

And doth embrace the world and worldly things:
She flies close by the ground, and houers here,
And mounts not vp with her celestiall wings.

Of the Soule of Man 297

Yet vnder heauen she cannot light on ought
That with her heauenly nature doth agree ;
She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought,
She cannot in this world contented bee :

For who did euer yet, in honour •, wealth,
Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find ?
Who euer ceasd to wish, when he had health ?
Or hauing wisedome was not vext in mind ?

Then as a bee which among weeds doth fall,

Which seeme sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and

gay;

She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all,
But pleasd with none, doth rise, and scare away ;

So, when the Soule finds here no true content,
And, like Noah's doue, can no sure footing take ;
She doth returne from whence she first was sent,
And flies to Him that first her wings did make.

Wit, seeking Truth, from cause to cause ascends,
And neuer rests, till it the first attaine :
Will, seeking Good, finds many middle ends,
But neuer stayes, till it the last doe gaine.

Now God, the Truth, and First of Causes is :
God is the Last Good End, which lasteth still ;
Being Alpha and Omega nam'd for this ;
Alpha to Wit, Omega to the Will.

292 Philosophy in Poetry

Sith then her heauenly kind shee doth bewray,
In that to God she doth directly moue ;
And on no mortall thing can make her stay,
She cannot be from hence, but from aboue.

And yet this First True Cause, and Last Good End,
Shee cannot heere so well, and truely see ;
For this perfection shee must yet attend,
Till to her Maker shee espoused bee.

As a kings daughter, being in person sought
Of diuers princes, who doe neighbour neere ;
On none of them can fixe a constant thought,
Though shee to all doe lend a gentle eare :

Yet she can loue a forraine emperour,

Whom of great worth and power she heares to be ;
If she be woo'd but by embassadour%
Or but his letters, or his pictures see :

For well she knowes, that when she shalbe brought
Into the kingdome where her Spouse doth raigne ;
Her eyes shall see what she conceiu'd in thought,
Himselfe, his state, his glory, and his traine.

So while the virgin Soule on Earth doth stay,
She woo'd and tempted is ten thousand wayes,
By these great powers, which on the Earth beare

sway;
The wisdom of the World, wealth, pleasure, praise:

Of the Soule of Man 293

With these sometime she doth her time beguile,
These doe by fits her Fantasie possesse ;
But she distastes them all within a while,
And in the sweetest finds a tediousnesse.

But if upon the World's Almighty King

She once doe fixe her humble louing thought;
Who by His picture, drawne in euery thing,
And sacred messages, her loue hath sought ;

Of Him she thinks, she cannot thinke too much ;
This hony tasted still, is euer sweet;
The pleasure of her rauisht thought is such,
As almost here, she with her blisse doth
meet:

But when in Heauen she shall His Essence see,
This is her soueraigne good, and perfect blisse:
Her longings, wishings, hopes all finisht be,
Her ioyes are full, her motions rest in this :

There is she crownd with garlands of content,
There doth she manna eat, and nectar drinke ;
That Presence doth such high delights present,
As neuer tongue could speake, nor heart could
thinke.

Philosophy in Poetry

REASON III

FROM CONTEMPT OF DEATH IN THE BETTER
SORT OF SPIRITS

this the better Soules doe oft despise
The bodie's death, and doe it oft desire ;
For when on ground, the burdened ballance lies
The emptie part is lifted vp the higher :

But if the bodie's death the sonle should kill,
Then death must needs against her nature bee ;
And were it so, all soules would flie it still,
" For Nature hates and shunnes her contrary.

For all things else, which Nature makes to bee,
Their being to preserue, are chiefly taught ;
And though some things desire a change to see,
Yet neuer thing did long to turne to naught.

If then by death the soule were quenched quite,
She could not thus against her nature runne ;
Since euery senselesse thing, by Nature's light,
Doth preservation seeke, destruction shunne.

Nor could the World's best spirits so much erre,
If death tooke all — that they should all agree,
Before this life, their honour to preferre ;
For what is praise to things that nothing bee?

Of the Soule of Man 295

Againe, if by the bodie's prop she stand ;
If on the bodie's life, her life depend;
As Meleager's on the fatall brand, —
The bodie's good shee onely would intend :

We should not find her half so braue and bold,
To leade it to the Warres and to the seas ;
To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold,
When it might feed with plenty, rest with
ease.

Doubtlesse all Soules have a suruiuing thought ;
Therefore of death we thinke with quiet mind ;
But if we thinke of being turrid to nought,
A trembling horror in our soules we find.

REASON IV

FROM THE FEARE OF DEATH IN THE WICKED
SOULES

A ND as the better spirit, when shee doth beare
A scorne of death, doth shew she cannot

die;
So when the wicked Soule Death's face doth

feare,
Euen then she proues her owne eternitie.

296 Philosophy in Poetry

For when Death's forme appeares, she feareth not
An vtter quenching or extinguishment ;
She would be glad to meet with such a lot,
That so she might all future ill preuent :

But shee doth doubt what after may befall ;
For Nature's law accuseth her within ;
And saith, 'Tis true that is affirm'd by all,
That after death there is a paine for sin.

Then she which hath bin hud-winkt from her birth,
Doth first her selfe within Death's mirror see ;
And when her body doth returne to earth,
She first takes care, how she alone shall bee.

Who euer sees these irreligious men,

With burthen of a sicknesse weake and faint ;
But heares them talking of Religion then,
And vowing of their soules to euery saint?

When was there euer cursed atheist brought
Vnto the gibbet, but he did adore
That blessed Power, which he had set at nought,
Scorn'd and blasphemed all his life before?

These light vaine persons still are drunke and mad,
With surfettings and pleasures of their youth ;
But at their deaths they are fresh, sober, sad ;
Then they discerne, and then they speake the
truth.

Of the Soule of Man 297

If then all Soules, both good and bad, doe teach,
With generall voice, that soules can neuer die ;
Tis not man's flattering glosse, but Nature's

speech,
Which, like Gods Oracle, can neuer lie.

REASON V

FROM THE GENERALL DESIRE OF IMMORTALITIE

H

ENCE springs that vniuersall strong desire,

Which all men haue of Immortalitie :
Not some few spirits vnto this thought aspire,
But all mens' minds in this vnited be.

Then this desire of Nature is not vaine,
" She couets not impossibilities ;
" Fond thoughts may fall into some idle braine,
" But one assent of all, is euer wise.

From hence that generall care and study springs,
That launching and progression of the mind ;
Which all men haue so much, of future things,
That they no ioy doe in the present find.

From this desire, that maine desire proceeds,
Which all men haue suruiuing Fame to gaine ;
By tombes, by bookes, by memorable deeds :
For she that this desires, doth still remaine.

2g8 Philosophy in Poetry

Hence lastly, springs care of posterities,

For things their kind would euerlasting make ;
Hence is it that old men do plant young trees,
The fruit whereof another age shall take.

If we these rules vnto our selues apply,
And view them by reflection of the mind ;
All these true notes of immortalitie
In our heart's tables we shall written find.

REASON VI

FROM THE VERY DOUBT AND DISPUTATION OF
IMMORTALITIE

A

ND though some impious wits do questions

moue,

And doubt if Soules immortall be, or no ;
That doubt their immortalitie doth proue,
Because they seeme immortall things to know.

For he which reasons on both parts doth bring,
Doth some things mortall, some immortall call ;
Now, if himselfe were but a mortall thing,
He could not iudge immortall things at all.

For when we iudge, our minds we mirrors make :
And as those glasses which materiall bee,
Formes of materiall things doe onely take,
For thoughts or minds in them we cannot see ;

Of the Soule of Man 299

So, when we God and angels do conceiue,
And thinke of truth, which is eternall too ;
Then doe our minds immortall formes receiue,
Which if they mortall were, they could not
doo:

And as, if beasts conceiu'd what Reason were,
And that conception should distinctly show,
They should the name of reasonable beare ;
For without Reason, none could Reason know :

So, when the Soule mounts with so high a wing,
As of eternall things she doubts can moue ;
Shee proofes of her eternitie doth bring,
Euen when she striues the contrary to proue.

For euen the thought of immortalitie,

Being an act done without the bodie's ayde ;
Shewes, that her selfe alone could moue and

bee,
Although the body in the graue were layde.

THAT THE SOULE CANNOT BE DESTROYED

A ND if her selfe she can so liuely moue,
•**> And neuer need a forraine helpe to take ;

Then must her motion euerlasting proue,
" Because her selfe she neuer can forsake.

joo Philosophy in Poetry

HER CAUSE CEASETH NOT

But though corruption cannot touch the minde,
By any cause that from it selfe may spring ;
Some outward cause Fate hath perhaps de-

signd,
Which to the Soule may vtter quenching bring.

SHE HATH NO CONTRARY

Perhaps her cause may cease, and she may die;
God is her cause, His Word her Maker was ;
Which shall stand fixt for all eternitie
When Heauen and Earth shall like a shadow
passe.

Perhaps some thing repugnant to her kind,
By strong antipathy, the Soule may kill ;
But what can be contrary to the minde,
Which holds all contraries in concord still?

She lodgeth heat, and cold, and moist, and dry,
And life, and death, and peace, and war to-
gether ;

Ten thousand fighting things in her doe lye,
Yet neither troubleth, or disturbeth either.

Of the Soule of Man 301

SHEE CANNOT DIE FOR WANT OF FOOD

Perhaps for want of food the soule may pine ;
But that were strange, sith all things bad and

good,

Sith all God's creature's mortall and diuine,
Sith God Himself e, is her eternall food.

Bodies are fed with things of mortall kind,
And so are subiect to mortalitie ;
But Truth which is eternall, feeds the mind ;
The Tree of life, which will not let her die.

VIOLENCE CANNOT DESTROY HER

Yet violence, perhaps the Soule destroyes :
As lightning, or the stm-beames dim the sight;
Or as a thunder-clap, or cannons' noyse,
The power of hearing doth astonish quite.

But high perfection to the Soule it brings,
T encounter things most excellent and high ;
For, when she views the best and greatest things
They do not hurt, but rather cleare her eye,

Besides, — as Homer's gods 'gainst armies stand, —
Her subtill forme can through all dangers slide ;
Bodies are captiue, minds endure no band,
"And Will is free, and can no force abide.

J02 Philosophy in Poetry

TIME CANNOT DESTROY HER

But lastly, Time perhaps at last hath power

To spend her liuely powers, and quench her

light;

But old god Saturne which doth all deuoure,
Doth cherish her, and still augment her might.

Heauen waxeth old, and all the spheres aboue
Shall one day faint, and their swift motion stay ;
And Time it selfe in time shall cease to moue ;
Onely the Soule suruives, and Hues for aye.

" Our Bodies, euery footstep that they make,
" March towards death, vntill at last they die;
" Whether we worke, or play, or sleepe, or wake,
" Our life doth passe, and with Time's wings doth
flie:

But to the Soule Time doth perfection giue,
And ads fresh lustre to her beauty still ;
And makes her in eternall youth to Hue,
Like her which nectar to the gods doth fill.

The more she Hues, the more she feeds on Truth ;
The more she feeds, her strength doth more in-
crease :

And what is strength, but an effect of youth ?
Which if Time nurse, how can it euer cease?

Of the Soule of Man 303

OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE IMMORTALITIE OF
THE SOULE

T> UT now these Epicures begin to smile,

"^ And say, my doctrine is more false then

true;

And that I fondly doe my selfe beguile,
While these receiu'd opinions I ensue.

OBJECTION I

TT^OR what, say they, doth not the Soule waxe old ?

•*• How comes it then that aged men doe dote ;
And that their braines grow sottish, dull and cold,
Which were in youth the onely spirits of note?

What? are not Soules within themselues corrupted?
How can there idiots then by nature bee?
How is it that some wits are interrupted,
That now they dazeled are, now clearely see ?

ANSWERS

ESE questions make a subtill argument,
To such as thinke both sense and reason one ;
To whom nor agent, from the instrument,
Nor power of working, from the work is known.

304 Philosophy in Poetry

But they that know that wit can shew no skill,
But when she things in Sense's glasse doth view;
Doe know, if accident this glasse doe spill,
It nothing sees, or sees the false for true.

For, if that region of the tender braine,

Where th' inward sense of Fantasie should sit,
And the outward senses gatherings should retain,
By Nature, or by chance, become vnfit ;

Either at first vncapable it is,

And so few things, or none at all receiues ;
Or mard by accident, which haps amisse
And so amisse it euery thing perceiues.

Then, as a cunning prince that vseth spyes,
If they returne no newes doth nothing know;
But if they make aduertisement of lies,
The Prince's Counsel all awry doe goe.

Euen so the Soule to such a body knit,
Whose inward senses vndisposed be,
And to receiue the formes of things vnfit;
Where nothing is brought in, can nothing see.

This makes the idiot, which hath yet a mind,
Able to know the truth, and chuse the good ;
If she such figures in the braine did find,
As might be found, if it in temper stood.

Of the Soule of Man 305

But \iz.phrensie doe possesse the braine,

It so disturbs and blots the formes of things ;
As Fantasie prooues altogether vaine,
And to the Wit no true relation brings.

Then doth the Wit, admitting all for true,

Build fond conclusions on those idle grounds;
Then doth it flie the good, and ill pursue,
Beleeuing all that this false spie propounds.

But purge the humors, and the rage appease,
Which this distemper in the fansie wrought;
Then shall the Wity which never had disease,
Discourse, and iudge discreetly, as it ought.

So, though the clouds eclipse the sunne's faire light,
Yet from his face they doe not take one beame ;
So haue our eyes their perfect power of sight,
Euen when they looke into a troubled streame.

Then these defects in Senses' organs bee,
Not in the soule or in her working might ;
She cannot lose her perfect power to see,
Thogh mists and clouds do choke her window
light.

These imperfections then we must impute,
Not to the agent but the instrument ;
We must not blame Apollo, but his lute,
If false accords from her false strings be sent.

20

Philosophy in Poetry

The Soiile in all hath one intelligence ;

Though too much moisture in an infant's braine,
And too much drinesse in an old man's sense,
Cannot the prints of outward things retaine :

Then doth the Soule want worke, and idle sit,
And this we childishnesse and dotage call ;
Yet hath she then a quicke and actiue Wit,
If she had stuffe and tooles to worke withall :

For, giue her organs fit, and obiects faire ;

Giue but the aged man, the young man's sense ;

Let but Medea, bison's youth repaire,

And straight she shewes her wonted excellence.

As a good harper stricken farre in yeares,
Into whose cunning hand the gowt is fall ;
All his old crotchets in his braine he beares,
But on his harpe playes ill, or not at all.

But if Apollo takes his gowt away,

That hee his nimble fingers may apply;

Apollo's selfe will enuy at his play,

And all the world applaud his minstralsie.

Then dotage is no weaknesse of the mind,
But of the Sense; for if the mind did waste,
In all old men we should this wasting find,
When they some certaine terme of yeres had
past:

Of the Soule of Man 307

But most of them, euen to their dying howre,
Retaine a mind more liuely, quicke, and

strong;

And better vse their vnderstanding power,
Then when their braines were warm, and lims
were yong.

For, though the body wasted be and weake,

And though the leaden forme of earth it

beares ;

Yet when we heare that halfe-dead body speake,
We oft are rauisht to the heauenly spheares.

OBJECTION II

T say these men, If all her organs die,
Then hath the soule no power her powers to

vse;

So, in a sort, her powers extinct doe lie,
When vnto act shee cannot them reduce.

And if her powers be dead, then what is shee?
For sith from euery thing some powers do

spring,
And from those powers, some acts proceeding

bee,
Then kill both power and act, and kill the thing.

D

Philosophy in Poetry

ANSWERE

OUBTLESSEfae bodie's death when once it

dies,

The instruments of sense and life doth kill ;
So that she cannot vse those faculties,
Although their root rest in her substance still.

But (as the body liuing) Wit and Will

Can iudge and chuse, without the bodie's ayde ;
Though on such obtects they are working still,
As through the bodie's organs are conuayde :

So, when the body serues her turne no more,
And all her Senses are extinct and gone,
She can discourse of what she learn'd before,
In heauenly contemplations, all alone.

So, if one man well on a lute doth play,

And haue good horsemanship, and Learning's

skill;

Though both his lute and horse we take away,
Doth he not keep his former learning still?

He keepes it doubtlesse, and can vse it to[o] ;
And doth both th' other skils in power retaine ;
And can of both the proper actions doe,
If with his lute or horse he meet againe.

Of the Soule of Man 309

So (though the instruments by which we Hue,
And view the world, the bodie's death doe

kill;)

Yet with the body they shall all reuiue,
And all their wonted offices fulfill.

OBJECTION III

T3 UT how, till then, shall she herselfe imploy?

-^ Her spies are dead which brought home

newes before ;

What she hath got and keepes, she may enioy,
But she hath meanes to vnderstand no more.

Then what do those poore soules, which nothing

get?

Or what doe those which get, and cannot keepe?
Like buckets bottomlesse, which all out-let
Those SouleSy for want of exercise, must sleepe.

ANSWERE

E how man's Soule against it selfe doth

striue :

Why should we not haue other meanes to know ?
As children while within the wombe they Hue,
Feed by the nauill: here they feed not so.

Philosophy in Poetry

These children, if they had some vse of sense,
And should by chance their mothers' talking

heare ;
That in short time they shall come forth from

thence,
Would feare their birth more then our death we

feare.

They would cry out, 'If we this place shall

leaue,

Then shall we breake our tender nauill strings ;
How shall we then our nourishment receiue,
Sith our sweet food no other conduit brings?'

And if a man should to these babes reply,

That into this faire world they shall be brought ;
Where they shall see the Earth, the Sea, the

Skie,
The glorious Sun, and all that God hath

wrought :

That there ten thousand dainties they shall meet,
Which by their mouthes they shall with pleasure

take;

Which shall be cordiall too, as wel as sweet,
And of their little limbes, tall bodies make :

Of the Soule of Man 311

This would they thinke a fable, euen as we
Doe thinke the story of the Golden Age ;
Or as some sensuall spirits amongst vs bee,
Which hold the world to come, afained stage:

Yet shall these infants after find all true,

Though then thereof they nothing could con-

ceiue;
As soone as they are borne, the world they

view,
And with their mouthes, the nurses'-milke re-

ceiue.

So, when the Soule is borne (for Death is nought
But the Soule 's birth, and so we should it

call)
Ten thousand things she sees beyond her

thought,
And in an vnknowne manner knowes them all.

Then doth she see by spectacles no more,
She heares not by report of double spies ;
Her selfe in instants doth all things explore,
For each thing present, and before her, lies.

Philosophy in Poetry

OBJECTION IV

~D UT still this crue with questions me pursues :
If soules deceas'd (say they) still liuing

bee;

Why do they not return, to bring vs newes
Of that strange world, where they such wonders
see?

ANSWERE

"T^OND men ! If we beleeue that men doe Hue

Vnder the Zenith of both frozen Poles,
Though none come thence aduertisement to

giue;
Why beare we not the like faith of our soules ?

The soule hath here on Earth no more to doe,
Then we haue businesse in our mother's wombe ;
What child doth couet to returne thereto ?
Although all children first from thence do come?

But as Noah's pidgeon, which return'd no more,
Did shew, she footing found, for all the Flood ;
So when good soules, departed through Death's

dore,
Come not againe, it shewes their dwelling good.

Of the Soule of Man

And doubtlesse, such a soule as vp doth mount,
And doth appeare before her Maker's Face ;
Holds this vile world in such a base account,
As she looks down, and scorns this wretched
place.

But such as are detruded downe to He

Either for shame, they still themselues retire;
Or tyed in chaines, they in close prison dwell,
And cannot come, although they much desire.

OBJECTION V

"IT J ELL, welly say these vaine spirits, though

vaine it is
To thinke our Soules to Heauen or Hell to

goe,

Politike men haue thought it not amisse,
To spread this lye, to make men vertuous so.

ANSWERE

TH\ OE you then thinke this morall vertue good ?

^^^ I thinke you doe, euen for your priuate

gaine ;

For Common-wealths by vertue euer stood,
And common good the priuate doth containe.

314 Philosophy in Poetry

If then this vertue you doe loue so well,

Haue you no meanes, her practise to main

taine ;

But you this lye must to the people tell,
That good Soules Hue in ioy, and ill in paine?

Must vertue be preserued by a lye f
Vertue and Truth do euer best agree ;
By this it seemes to be a veritie,
Sith the effects so good and vertuous bee.

For, as the deuill father is of lies,

So vice and mischiefe doe his lyes ensue ;
Then this good doctrine did not he deuise,
But made this lye, which saith it is not true.

THE GENERALL CONSENT OF ALL

how can that be false, which euery tongue
Of euery mortall man affirmes for true?
Which truth hath in all ages been so strong,
As lodestone-like, all hearts it euer drew.

For, not the Christian, or the lew alone,

The Persian, or the Turke, acknowledge this ;
This mysterie to the wild Indian knowne,
And to the Canniball and Tartar is.

Gf the Soule of Man

This rich Assyrian drugge growes euery where ;
As common in the North, as in the East;
This doctrine does not enter by the eare,
But of it selfe is natiue in the breast.

None that acknowledge God, or prouidence,
Their Soule 's eternitie did euer doubt ;
For all Religion takes her root from hence,
Which no poore naked nation Hues without.

For sith the World for Man created was,
(For onely Man the vse thereof doth know)
If man doe perish like a withered grasse,
How doth God's Wisedom order things below?

And if that Wisedom still wise ends propound,
Why made He man, of other creatures King?
When (if he perish here) there is not found
In all the world so poor and vile a thing?

If death do quench vs quite, we haue great

wrong,

Sith for our seruice all things else were wrought ;
That dawesy and trees, and rocks, should last so

long,
When we must in an instant passe to nought.

ji 6 Philosophy in Poetry

But blest be that Great Power, that hath vs

blest

With longer life then Heauen or Earth can haue;
Which hath infus'd into our mortall breast
Immortall powers, not subiect to the graue.

For though the Soule doe seeme her graue to

beare,

And in this world is almost buried quick ;
We haue no cause the bodie's death to feare,
For when the shell is broke, out comes a

chick.

THREE KINDS OF LIFE ANSWERABLE TO THE
THREE POWERS OF THE SOULE

as the soule's essentiall powers are three,
The quickning power y the power of sense and

reason;

Three kinds of life to her designed bee,
Which perfect these three powers in their due
season.

The first life, in the mother's wombe is spent,
Where she her nursing power doth onely vse ;
Where, when she finds defect of nourishment,
Sh' expels her body, and this world she viewes.

Of the Soule of Man 317

This we call Birth; but if the child could speake,
He Death would call it ; and of Nature plaine,
That she would thrust him out naked and weake,
And in his passage pinch him with such paine.

Yet, out he comes, and in this world is plac't,
Where all his Senses in perfection bee ;
Where he finds flowers to smell, and fruits to

taste ;
And sounds to heare, and sundry formes to see.

When he hath past some time vpon this stage,
His Reason then a little seemes to wake ;
Which, thogh she spring, when sense doth fade

with age,
Yet can she here no perfect practise make.

Then doth th' aspiring Soule the body leaue,
Which we call Death ; but were it knowne to all,
What life our soules do by this death receiue,
Men would it birth or gaole deliuery call.

In this third life, Reason will be so bright,

As that her sparke will like the sun-beames

shine ;

And shall of God enioy the reall sight.
Being still increast by influence diuine.

Philosophy in Poetry

AN ACCLAMATION

IGNORANT poor man! what dost thou

beare

Lockt vp within the casket of thy brest?
What iewels, and what riches hast thou there !
What heauenly treasure in so weake a chest !

Looke in thy soule, and thou shalt beauties find,
Like those which drownd Narcissus in the flood :
Honour and Pleasure both are in thy mind,
And all that in the world is counted Good.

Thinke of her worth, and think that God did meane,
This worthy mind should worthy things im-

brace ;

Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts vnclean,
Nor her dishonour with thy passions base ;

Kill not her quickning power with surfettings,
Mar not her Sense with sensualitie ;
Cast not her serious wit on idle things:
Make not her free-wz//, slaue to vanitie.

And when thou think'st of her eternitie,

Thinke not that Death against her nature is,
Thinke it a birth; and when thou goest to die,
Sing like a swan, as if thou went'st to blisse.

Of -the Soule of Man 519

And if thou, like a child, didst feare before,

Being in the darke, where thou didst nothing see ;
Now I haue broght thee torch-light, feare no

more;
Now when thou diest, thou canst not hud-winkt

be.

And thou my Soule, which turn'st thy curious eye,
To view the beames of thine owne forme diuine ;
Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly,
While thou art clouded with this flesh of mine.

Take heed of oner-weening, and compare

Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's traine ;
Study the best, and highest things that are,
But of thy selfe an humble thought retaine.

Cast downe thy selfe, and onely striue to raise
The glory of thy Maker's sacred Name;
Vse all thy powers, that Blessed Power to praise,
Which giues thee power to bee, and vse the
same.

FINIS

OEPT

JUN 3

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