 Partition 1. Section 2. Member 2. Subsection 6 and 7. In moderate exercise a cause and how, solitariness, idleness, nothing so good but it may be abused, nothing better than exercise, if opportunally used, for the preservation of the body, nothing so bad if it be unseasonable, violent, or overmuch. Fernalius, out of Galen sayeth, that much exercise and weariness consumes the spirits and substance, refrigerates the body, and such humours which nature would have otherwise concocted and expelled, it stirs up and makes them rage, which, being so enraged, diversely affect and trouble the body and mind, so doth it, if it be unseasonably used, upon a full stomach. Or when the body is full of crudities, which Buxia so much envays against, giving that for a cause, why schoolboys in Germany are so often scabbed. Because they use exercise presently after meats, virus puts in a caveat against such exercise because it corrupts the meat in the stomach and carries the same juice raw, and as yet undigested into the veins, sayeth Lemneus, which there putrefies and confounds the animal spirits. Kratos protests against all such exercise after meat as being the greatest enemy to concoction that may be, and cause of corruption of humours, which produce this and many other diseases, not without good reason, then doth solustius silvianus and leonardus jocanus, in nine races mercurialis arcubonus and many other, set down in moderate exercise as a most forcible cause of melancholy. Opposite to exercise is idleness, the badge of gentry, or want of exercise, the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, stepmother of discipline, the chief author of all mischief, one of the seven deadly sins, and a sole cause of this and many other maladies, the devil's cushion, as Walter calls it, his pillow and chief reposal, for the mind can never rest, but still meditates on one thing or other, except it be occupied about some honest business of his own accord at Russia into melancholy, as too much in violent exercise offends on the one side, so doth an idle life on the other, sayeth Kratos, it fills the body full of phlegm, gross humours and all manner of obstructions, rooms, catars, etc. Racist accounts of it as the greatest cause of melancholy. I have often seen, sayeth he, that idleness begets this humour more than anything else. Montaltus chapter 1 seconds him out of his experience. They that are idle are far more subject to melancholy than such as are conversant or employed about any office or business. Plutarch reckons up idleness or a sole cause of the sickness of the soul. There are they, sayeth he, troubled in mind, that have no other cause but this. Homer, Iliad I, brings in Achilles, eating of his own heart in his idleness, because he might not fight. Mercurialis, for a melancholy young man, urges it as a chief cause. Why was he melancholy? Because idle. Nothing begets it sooner. Increaseeth and continueeth it oftener than idleness, a disease familiar to all idle persons, an inseparable companion to such as live at ease. Pinguiotio decidiose agentis, a life out of action and have no calling or ordinary employment to busy themselves about, that have small occasions. And though they have, such is their laziness, dullness, they will not compose themselves to do ought. They cannot abide work, though it be necessary, easy as to dress themselves, write a letter, or the like. Yet as he that is benumbed with cold sits still shaking, that might relieve himself with a little exercise or stirring. Do they complain, but will not use the facile and ready means to do themselves good? And so are still tormented with melancholy, especially if they have been formally brought up to business or to keep much company. And upon a sudden come to lead a sedentary life, it crucifies their souls, and seeseth on them in an instant. For whilst they are anyways employed, in action, discourse, about any business, sport, or recreation, or in company to their liking, they are very well. But if alone or idle, tormented instantly again, one day's solitariness, one hour's sometimes, doth them more harm than a week's physics, labour, and company can do good. Melancholy seeseth on them forthwith being alone, and is such a torture, that as wise Seneca well saith, malo mihi male quam malito essay, I had rather be sick than idle, this idleness is either a body or mind. That a body is nothing but a kind of benumbing laziness, intermitting exercise which, if we may believe fornalius, causeth crudities of structures, excremental humours, quencheth the natural heat, dulls the spirits, and makes them unapp'd to do anything whatsoever. Neglectis orrenda felix, inaskator agris, for a neglected field, shall, for the fire its thorns and thistles yield. As fern grows in untilled grounds, and all manner of weeds, so do gross humours in an idle body. Ignawom karumpunt odia corpus, a horse in the stable that never travels, a hawk in a mew, that seldom flies are both subject to diseases, which left unto themselves are most free from any such encumbrances. An idle dog will be mangy, and how shall an idle person think to escape? Idleness of the mind is much worse than this of the body. Wit without employment is a disease, irego animi, rubigo ingeni, the rust of the soul, a plague, a hell itself. Maximum animi, nocumentum, galen, calls it. As in a standing pool, worms and filthy creepers increase, et wittium capiunt, ni, moviantur aqui. The water itself putrefies, the air likewise, if it be not continually stirred by the wind. So do evil and corrupt thoughts in an idle person. The soul is contaminated. In a commonwealth, where is no public enemy, there is likely civil wars, and they rage upon themselves. This body of ours, when it is idle, and knows not how to bestow it so, macerates and vexeth itself with cares, griefs, false spears, discontents, and suspicions. It tortures and prays upon his own vows, and is never at rest. Thus much I dare boldly say, he or she that is idle, be they of what condition they will, never so rich, so well allied, fortunate, happy, let them have all things in abundance, and felicity that heart can wish and desire, all contentment, so long as he or she or they are idle. They shall never be pleased, or well in body and mind, but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weeping, sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the world, with every object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else earned away with some foolish fantasy or other. And this is the true cause that so many great men, ladies, and gentle women, labor of this disease in country and city, for idleness is an appendix to nobility. They count it a disgrace to work, and spend all their days in sports, recreations, and past times, and will therefore take no pains, be of no vocation. They feed liberally, fare well, want exercise, action, employment. For to work I say they may not abide, and company to their desires, and that's their bodies, become full of gross humours, wind, crudities, their minds disquieted, dull, heavy, etc., care, jealousy, fear of some diseases, sullen fits, weeping fits, sees too familiarly on them, for what will not fear and fantasy work in an idle body? What distempers will they not cause, when the children of Israel murmured against Pharaoh in Egypt? He commanded his officers to double their task and let them get straw themselves, and yet make their full number of bricks, for the soul cause why they mutiny, and are evil at ease, is they are idle. When you shall hear and see so many discontented persons in all places where you come, so many several grievances, unnecessary complaints, fears, suspicions, the best means to redress it is to set them awork, so to busy their minds, for the truth is they are idle. Well they may build castles in the air for a time, and soothe up themselves with fantastical and pleasant humours, but in the end they will prove as bitter as gall. They shall be still, I say, discontent, suspicious, fearful, jealous, sad, fretting, and vexing of themselves. So long as they be idle, it is impossible to please them. Odeo grinescuruti, plus hobbit negoti, quam grinagotium in negotio, as that Agellius could observe, he that knows not how to spend his time hath more business, care, grief, anguish of mind, than he that is most busy in the midst of all his business. Oteosus animus nescit quidwallit, an idle person as he follows it, knows not when he is well, what he would have, or whither he would go, quum iluquentum est, ilinglubet. He is tired out with everything, displeased with all, weary of his life, nec benidomi, nec militiae, neither at home nor abroad, eret et tritur vitum wewitur, he wanders and lives besides himself. In a word, what the mischievous effects of laziness and idleness are, I do not find anywhere more accurately expressed than in these verses of philologies in the comical poet, which for their elegancy I will in part insert. No warum idium ese arbitor similum ego hominim, quando hignatus est, ere argumentum diquem, aides quando sunt ad amusum, expolitai, quiscue laudet fabrum, ad quae exemplum expetit, et cetera, ad uvi ilu migrat nequem homo indiligensque, et cetera, tempestis venit, comfrengit tegolas imbricesque, putrifacit aia operum fabri, et cetera, diquem at hominist similus ese idium arbitremini, fabri parentis fondumentum, substruent liberorum, expolient dogin literas nec parkun suntui, ego altum su fabrum potestate frugiqui, post quam autum migravi in ingenium meum, perditi operum fabrum ilu covido, venit ignauia, emigi tempestas quid ad ventu ques vuol grandinum et imbrem atulit, ila miji verdutum de terbawit, et cetera. A young man is like a fair new house, a carpenter leaves it well built in good repair of solid stuff, but a bad tenant lets it reign in, and for want of reparation fall to decay, et cetera. Our parents, tutors, friends, spare no cost to bring us up in our youth in all manner of virtuous education, but when we are left to ourselves, idleness, as at tempest, drives all virtuous motions out of our minds, et nilis sumus, on a sudden, by sloth and such bad ways we come to not. Cousin German to idleness and a concomitant cause, which goes hand in hand with it, is nimia solitudo, too much solitariness, by the testimony of all positions, cause and symptom both. But as it is here put for a cause, it is either coact, enforced, or else voluntary. Enforced solitariness is commonly seen in students, monks, priors, anchorites, that by their order and course of life must abandon all company, society of other men, and but take themselves to a private cell. O teo superstitioso seclusi, as bail and hospinion well termit, such as are the carthusians of our time that eat no flesh by their order, keep perpetual silence, never go abroad, such as live in prison or some desert place and cannot have company, as many of our country gentlemen do in solitary houses. They must either be alone without companions, or live beyond their means and entertain all comers, as so many hosts, or else converse with their servants and hinds, such as are unequal, inferior to them, and of a contrary disposition, or else, as some do, to avoid solitariness, spend their time with lewd fellows in taverns, and in ale houses, and thence predict themselves to some unlawful disports, or dislewd courses. Diverse again, are cast upon this rock of solitariness for want of means, or out of a strong apprehension of some infirmity, disgrace, or through bashfulness, rudeness, simplicity. They cannot apply themselves to others' company. Nulum solum infelicii gratius solitudine ubinulus sitquimiserium expropriate. This enforced solitariness takes place and produces his effect. Soonest, in such as have spent their time jovially, their adventure in all honest recreations, in good company, in some great family or populous city, and are upon a sudden confine to a desert country cottage far off, restrained of their liberty and barred from their ordinary associates. Solitariness is very irksome to such, most tedious, and a sudden cause of great inconvenience. Voluntary solitariness is that which is familiar with melancholy, and gently brings on like a siren, a shooing-horn, or some sphinx to this irrevocable gulf. A primary cause, piezo calls it most pleasant it is at first, as such as are melancholy given, to lie in bed whole days, and keep their chambers, to walk alone in some solitary grove betwixt wood and water, by a brookside, to meditate upon some delightsome and pleasant subject, which shall affect them most. A marvellous insomnia, at mentis gratisimos error, a most incomparable delight it is so to melancholys, and build castles in the air, to go smiling to themselves, acting an infinite variety of parts, which they suppose, and strongly imagine, they represent, or that they see acted or done, blandi quidim api titio, seith lemnius, to conceive and meditate of such pleasant things, sometimes present past or to come, as racist speaks. So delightsome these toys are at first, they could spend whole days and nights without sleep, even whole years alone in such contemplations, and fantastical meditations, which are like unto dreams, and they will hardly be drawn from them, or willingly interrupt, so pleasant their vain conceits are, that they hinder their ordinary tasks in necessary business. They cannot address themselves to them, or almost, to any study or employment, these fantastical and bewitching thoughts so covertly, so feelingly, so urgently, so continually, set upon, creep in, insinuate, possess, overcome, distract, and detain them. They cannot, I say, go about their more necessary business, stave off or extricate themselves, but are ever musing, melancholizing, and carried along. As he, they say, that is led round about a heath with a puck in the night, they run earnestly on in this labyrinth of anxious and solicitous melancholy meditations, and cannot well or willingly refrain, or easily leave off, winding and unwinding themselves, as so many clocks, but still pleasing their humours, until at last the scene is turned upon a sudden by some bad object, and they being now habituated to such vain meditations, and solitary places, can endure no company, can ruminate of nothing but harsh and distasteful subjects. Fear, sorrow, suspicion, subrusticus pudor, discontent, cares, and weariness of life, surprise them in a moment, and they can think of nothing else, continually suspecting, no sooner are their eyes open, but this infernal plague of melancholy seizes on them, and terrifies their souls, representing some dismal object to their minds, which now, by no means, no labour, no persuasions, they can avoid. Hyrit lottery lethalis arundo, the arrow of death still remains in the side, they may not be rid of it, they cannot resist. I may not deny but that there is some profitable benediction, contemplation, and kind of solitaryness to be embraced, which the Fathers so highly commended, Hyrum, Chrysostom, Cyprian, Austin, in whole tracts, which Petrarch, Erasmus, Stella, and others so much magnify in their books, a paradise, a heaven on earth, if it be used aright, good for the body, and better for the soul, as many of those old monks used it, to divine contemplations, as Simulus, a courtier in Adrien's time, Diocletian, the emperor, retired themselves, etc., in that sense. Wattia solus git weaveri, Wattia lives alone, which the Romans were want to say when they commended a country life, or to the bettering of their knowledge, as democratus, clianthes, and those excellent philosophers have ever done, to sequester themselves from the tumultuous world, or as in Plini's Villa Laurentana, Tulli's Tuscalum, Jovius' study, that they might better, wakare studius et deo, serve God and follow their studies. Methinks, therefore, our Tuzelus innovators were not so well advised in that general subversion of abbeys and religious houses, promiscuously to fling down all. They might have taken away those gross abuses, crept in amongst them, rectified such inconveniences, and not so far to have raved and raged against those fair buildings, and everlasting monuments of our forefather's devotion, consecrated to pious uses. Some monasteries and collegiate cells might have been well spared, and their revenues otherwise employed, here and there, one in good towns or cities at least, for men and women of all sorts and conditions to live in, to sequester themselves from the cares and tumults of the world that were not desirous or fit to marry, or otherwise willing to be troubled with common affairs, and know not well where to bestow themselves, to live apart in, for more conveniency, good education, better company's sake, to follow their studies, I say, to the perfection of arts and sciences, common good, and as some truly devoted monks of old had done, freely and truly, to serve God. For these men are neither solitary nor idle, as the poet made answer to the husbandmen in Issa that objected idleness to him. He was never so idle as in his company, or that Scipio Apricanis in Tuli, nun quam minus solis, quam cum solis, nun quam minus odiosus, quam cum eset odiosus, nevertheless solitary than when he was alone, never more busy than when he seemed to be most idle. It is reported by Plato in his dialogue de Amore, in that prodigious commendation of Socrates, how a deep meditation, coming into Socrates' mind by chance, he stood still, musing, eo dem vestigio cogitabundis, from morning to noon, and when, as then, he had not yet finished his meditation, per stabbat cogitans, he so continued till the evening, the soldiers, for he then followed the camp, observed him with admiration, and on set purpose watched all night, but he persevered immovable, ad exhort him solis, till the sun rose in the morning, and then, saluting the sun, went his ways, in what humor constant Socrates did thus, I know not, or how he might be affected, but this would be pernicious to another man, what intricate business might so really possess him, I cannot easily guess, but this is otiosum, otium, it is far otherwise with these men, according to Seneca, omnia nobis mala solitudo persuadit, this solitude undoeth us, pugna cum vita socchiali, tis a destructive solitariness. These men are devils alone, as the saying is, homo solus outdeus, out dimon, a man alone is either a saint or a devil, mens aeus out languesquit, out tumesquit, and, why soli, in this sense, woe be to him that is so alone. These wretches do frequently degenerate from men, and of sociable creatures become beasts, monsters, inhumane, ugly to behold, misanthropy, they do even loathe themselves, and hate the company of men, as so many timans, nebuchadnezzars, by too much indulging to these pleasing humours, and through their own default, so that which mercurialis sometimes expostulated with his melancholy patient may be justly applied to every solitary and idle person in particular, natura, dete, wedutur, concueriposte, etc. Nature may justly complain of thee, that whereas she gave thee a good wholesome temperature, a sound body, and God hath given thee so divine and excellent a soul, so many good parts and profitable gifts, thou hast not only condemned and rejected, but hast corrupted them, polluted them, overthrown their temperature, and perverted those gifts with riot, idleness, solitariness, and many other ways, thou art a traitor to God and nature, an enemy to thyself and to the world, perditio tua extei, thou hast lost thyself willfully, cast away thyself, thou thyself art the efficient cause of thine own misery, by not resisting such vain cogitations, but giving way unto them. Subsection 7 Sleeping and Waking Causes What I have formerly said of exercise I may now repeat of sleep, nothing better than moderate sleep, nothing worse than it if it be in extremes or unseasonably used. It is a received opinion that a melancholy man cannot sleep over much, somnissupramodum protest, as an only antidote, and nothing offends them more or causes this malady sooner than waking. Yet in some cases sleep may do more harm than good in that phlegmatic, swinish, cold and sluggish melancholy which melanchthon speaks of, that thinks of waters sying most part, etc. It dulls the spirits if over much and senses, fills the head full of gross humours, causeth distillations, rooms, great store of excrements in the brain, and all the other parts, as Uxias speaks of them, that sleep like so many dormice, or if it be used in the daytime upon a full stomach, the body ill-composed to rest, or after hard meets it increases fearful dreams, incubus night-walking, crying out, and much unquietness. Such sleep prepares the body, as one observes, to many perilous diseases. But as I have said, waking over much is both a symptom and an ordinary cause. It causeth dryness of the brain, frenzy, dotage, and makes the body dry, lean, hard, and ugly to behold, as lemneous hath it. The temperature of the brain is corrupted by it, the humours adust, the eyes made to sink into the head, collar increased, and the whole body inflamed. And as may be added out of Galen, three, de sanitatoctuendo, avicenna, three, one, it overthrows the natural heat. It causeth crudities, hurts, concoction, and whatnot, not without good cause, therefore. Kratos, Hildesheim, Jakenus, Arculanus on Races, Guianarius, and Mercurialus, reckon up this over-much waking as a principal cause. End of Section 30. Section 31 of the Anatomy of Melancholy. Volume 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Anatomy of Melancholy. Volume 1 by Robert Burton. Section 31. Partition 1. Section 2. Number 3. Subsections 1 and 2. Subsection 1. Passions and perturbations of the mind, how they cause melancholy. As that gymnasophist in Plutarch made answer to Alexander, demanding which spake best, every one of his fellows did speak better than the other. So may I say of these causes, to him that shall require which is the greatest. Everyone is more grievous than other, and this of passion the greatest of all. A most frequent and ordinary cause of melancholy, Fulman Perturbationum, Piccolo Mineas calls it, this thunder and lightning of perturbation, which cause such violent and speedy alterations in this our microcosm, and many times subverts the good estate and temperature of it. For as the body works upon the mind by his bad humours, troubling the spirits, sending gross fumes into the brain, and so, per consequence, disturbing the soul, and all the faculties of it, Corpus Onustum, Hesternus Wittius Anemum, Cuocoe Pragrawatuna, with fear, sorrow, etc., which are ordinary symptoms of this disease. So, on the other side, the mind most effectually works upon the body, producing by his passions and perturbations, miraculous alterations, as melancholy, despair, cruel diseases, and sometimes death itself, in so much that it is most true, which Plato sayeth in his comedies, Omnia Corporis Mala Ab Anima Procadere, All the mischiefs of the body proceed from the soul, and Democritus in Plutarch urges Domnatum iranimum a corpore, if the body should in this behalf bring an action against the soul, surely the soul would be cast and convicted, that by her supine negligence have caused such inconveniences, having authority over the body, and using it for an instrument, as a smith doth his hammer, seeth Cyprian, imputing all those spices and maladies to the mind, even so doth Philistratus, known coenquinator Corpus Nisi consensuanimai. The body is not corrupted, but by the soul. Ludovicus vivis will have such turbulent commotions proceed from ignorance and indiscretion. All philosophers impute the miseries of the body to the soul, that should have governed it better, by command of reason, and hath not done it. The Stoics are altogether of opinion, as Lipsius and Picolomeneus record, that a wise man should be apathies, without all manner of passions and perturbations whatsoever, as Seneca reports of Cato, the Greeks of Socrates, and Johannes Obannus of a nation in Africa, so free from passion, or rather so stupid, that if they be wounded by the sword, they will only look back. Lactantius, too diwanarum institutionum, will exclude fear from a wise man. Others accept all, some the greatest passions, but let them dispute how they will, set down in the sea, give precepts to the contrary. We find that of Lemneus, true by common experience. No mortal man is free from these perturbations. Or if he be so, sure he is either a god, or a bloc. They are born and bred with us. We have them from our parents by inheritance. Propagated from Adam, Cain was melancholy, as Austen hath it, and who is not? Good discipline, education, philosophy, divinity, I cannot deny, may mitigate and restrain these passions in some few men, at some times, but most part they domineer, and are so violent, that as a torrent, torrents velud agare rupto, bears down all before, and overflows his banks, sternit agros sternitsata, lays waste to the fields, prostrates the crops. They overwhelm reason, judgment, and pervert the temperature of the body. Fertur equis aurega, neg audid kurus habnas. Now such a man, sayeth Austen, that is so led, in a wise man's eye, is no better than he that stands upon his head. It is doubted by some. Grauio rest ni morbi, a perturbationibus, an abhubonibus. Whether humours or perturbations cause the more grievous maladies. But we find that of our Savior, Matthew 2641. Most true. The spirit is willing. The flesh is weak. We cannot resist. And this of phyllo judaeus. Perturbations often offend the body, and are most frequent causes of melancholy, turning it out of the hinges of his health. Vivus compares them to winds upon the sea. Some only move as those great gales, but others, turbulent, quite overturn the ship. Those which are light, easy, and more seldom, to our thinking, do us little harm, and are therefore condemned of us. Yet if they be reiterated, as the rain, sayeth Austen, doth astone, so do these perturbations penetrate the mind, and, as one observes, produce a habit of melancholy at the last, which having gotten the mastery in our souls, may well be called diseases. How these passions produce this effect, a grippa hath handled at large. 18. Section 1, Article 25. Timothy Bright, Chapter 12 of his melancholy treatise, write the Jesuit in his book of the passions of the mind, etc., thus in brief to our imagination, cometh by the outward sense of memory, some object to be known, residing in the foremost part of the brain, which he, misconceiving or amplifying, presently communicates to the heart the seat of all affections, the pure spirits forthwith flock from the brain to the heart, by certain secret channels, and signify what good or bad object was presented, which immediately bends itself to prosecute or avoid it, and with all draweth with it other humours to help it, so in pleasure concur great store of pure spirits, in sadness much melancholy blood, in ire, choler. If the imagination be very apprehensive, intent, and violent, it sends great store of spirits to or from the heart, and makes a deeper impression, and greater tumult, as the humours in the body be likewise prepared, and the temperature itself, ill or well disposed, the passions are longer and stronger, so that the first step and fountain of all our grievances in this kind is Lysa and Magnatio, which, misinforming the heart, causeth all these disc-temperatures, alteration, and confusion of spirits and humours, by means of which, so disturbed, concoction is hindered, and the principal parts are much debilitated, as Dr. Navara, well declared, being consulted by Montanas about a melancholy Jew, the spirits so confounded, the nourishment must needs be abated, bad humours increased, crudities and thick spirits engendered with melancholy blood, the other parts cannot perform their functions, having the spirits drawn from them by vehement passion, but fail in sense and motion, so we look upon a thing and see it not, hear and observe not, which otherwise would much affect us, had we been free. I may therefore conclude with Arnaldus Maxima vis est fantasiae et vic unifere non autum cor porus intemperie omnis melancholiae causa est ascribenda, great is the force of imagination, and much more ought the cause of melancholy, to be ascribed to this alone, than to the distemperature of the body, of which imagination, because it hath so great a stroke in producing this malady, and is so powerful of itself, it will not be improper to my discourse to make a brief digression, and speak of the force of it, and how it causes this alteration, which manner of digression howsoever some dislike, as frivolous and impertinent, yet I am of Beroaldus opinion, such digressions do mightily delight and refresh a weary breeder, they are like sauce to a bad stomach, and I do therefore most willingly use them. Subsection 2 of the Force of Imagination What imagination is I have sufficiently declared in my digression of the anatomy of the soul, I will only now point at the wonderful effects and power of it, which as it is eminent in all, so most especially it rages in melancholy persons, in keeping the species of objects so long, mistaking, amplifying them by continual and strong meditation, until at length it produce in some parties real effects, cause of this and many other maladies, and although this fantasy of ours be a subordinate faculty to reason, and should be ruled by it, yet in many men, through inward or outward distemperatures, defective organs which are untapped or otherwise contaminated, it is likewise untapped or hindered and hurt, this we see verified in sleepers, which by reason of humours and concourse of vapours troubling the fantasy, imagine many times absurd and prodigious things, and in such as are troubled with incubus, or which ridden, as we call it, if they lie on their backs, they suppose an old woman rides and sits so hard upon them, that they are almost stifled for want of breath when there is nothing offends, but a concourse of bad humours which trouble the fantasy, this is likewise evident in such as walk in the night in their sleep and do strange feats, these vapours move the fantasy, the fantasy the appetite, which moving the animal spirits cause the body to walk up and down as if they were awake, frocastorius book III, the intellectsione, refers all ecstasies to this force of imagination, such as lie whole days together in a trance, as that priest whom celsus speaks of, that could separate himself from his senses when he lists, and lie like a dead man, void of life and sense, cardan brags of himself that he could do as much, and that, when he lists, many times such men when they come to themselves, tell strange things of heaven and hell, what visions they have seen, as that St. Owen in Matthew Paris, that went into St. Patrick's purgatory, and a monk of Avisham in the same author, those common apparitions in Bede and Gregory, St. Bridget's revelations, Wiris book III, Delemius, chapter 11, Caesar Vaninus, in his dialogues, reduceth, as I have formerly said, with all those tales of witches' progresses, dancing, riding, transformations, operations, etc., to the force of imagination, and the devil's illusions, the like-effects almost are to be seen in such as are awake. How many chimeras, antics, golden mountains, and castles in the air, do they build unto themselves? I appeal to painters, machinations, mathematicians, some ascribe all vices to a false and corrupt imagination, anger, revenge, lust, ambition, covetousness, which prefers falsehood before that which is right and good, deluding the soul with false shows and suppositions. Bernardus Pinotius will have heresy and superstition to proceed from this fountain, as he falsely imagineth, so he believeth, and as he conceiveth of it, so it must be, and it shall be, contra gentis, he will have it so, but most especially in passions and affections, it shows strange and evident effects, what will not a fearful man conceive in the dark, what strange forms of bugbears, devils, witches, goblins. Lavater imputes the greatest cause of spectrums, and the like apparitions, to fear, which above all other passions begets the strongest imagination, sayeth Wirus, and so likewise love, sorrow, joy, etc. Some die suddenly, as she that saw her son come from the battle at Cannae, etc. Jacob the patriarch, by force of imagination, made speckled lambs, laying speckled rods before his sheep. Persina, that Ethiopian queen in Heliodorus, by seeing the picture of Perseus and Andromeda, instead of a Blackamore, was brought to bed of a fair white child, in imitation of whom Belike, a hard-favored fellow in Greece, because he and his wife were both deformed. To get a good brood of children, Eleganthesimus imagines, in Thalamo Kolokavit, etc., hung the fairest pictures he could buy for money in his chamber, that his wife, by frequent sight of them, might conceive and bear such children. And if we may believe Baal, one of Pope Nicholas III's concubines, by seeing of a bear was brought to bed of a monster, if a woman, sayeth Lemneus, at the time of her conception, think of another man present or absent. The child will be like him, great bellied women, when they long yield us prodigious examples in this kind, as moles, warts, scars, hair lips, monsters especially, caused in their children, by force of a depraved fantasy in them. Ipsum speckium quan animoa figiat, phytui enducit. She imprints that stamp upon her child, which she conceives unto herself, and therefore Ludovica's vivis, Book II, De Institutione Femini Christiani, gives a special caution to great bellied women, that they do not admit such absurd conceits and cogitations, but by all means avoid those horrible objects, heard or seen, or filthy spectacles. Some will laugh, weep, sigh, groan, blush, tremble, sweat at such things as are suggested unto them by their imagination. Avicenna speaks of one that could cast himself into a palsy when he lists, and some can imitate the tunes of birds and beasts, that they can hardly be discerned. Daga Berthas and St. Francis scars and wounds like those of Christ's, if at the least any such were, agrippa supposed, to have happened by force of imagination, that some are turned to wolves, from men to women, and women again to men, which is constantly believed, to the same imagination, or from men to asses, dogs, or any other shapes. Wiris ascribes all those famous transformations to imagination, that in hydrophobia they seem to see the picture of a dog, still in their water, that melancholy men and sick men conceive so many fantastical visions, apparitions to themselves, and have such absurd apparitions, as that they are kings, lords, cocks, bears, apes, owls, that they are heavy, light, transparent, great and little, senseless and dead, as shall be shown more at large in our sections of symptoms, can be imputed to not else, but to a corrupt, false and violent imagination. It works not in sick and melancholy men only, but even most forcibly sometimes, in such as our sound. It makes them suddenly sick, and alters their temperature in an instant, and sometimes a strong conceit or apprehension, as Valasius proves, will take away diseases. In both kinds it will produce real effects. Men if they see but another man tremble, giddy or sick of some fearful disease. Their apprehension and fear is so strong in this kind, that they will have the same disease, or if by some soothsayer, wise man, fortune teller, or physician, they be told they shall have such a disease, they will so seriously apprehend it, that they will instantly labor of it. A thing familiar in China, Seathricius the Jesuit, if it be told them, they shall be sick on such a day. When that day comes, they will surely be sick, and will be so terribly afflicted, that sometimes they die upon it. Dr. Cotta, in his discovery of ignorant practitioners of physics, Chapter 8, hath two strange stories to this purpose, what fancy is able to do. The one of a Parsons wife in Northamptonshire, Anne 0-1607, that coming to a physician and told by him that she was troubled with the sciatica, as he conjectured, a disease she was free from, the same night after her return, upon his words, fell into a grievous fit of a sciatica, and such another example he hath of another good wife that was so troubled with the cramp, after the same manner, she came by it, because her physician did but name it. Sometimes death itself is caused by force of fantasy. I have heard of one that coming by chance in company of him that was thought to be sick of the plague, which was not so, fell down suddenly dead. Another was sick of the plague with conceit. One seeing his fellow let blood falls down in a swoon. Another, Seath Cardan, out of Aristotle, fell down dead, which is familiar to women at any ghastly sight. Seeing but a man hanged, a Jew in France, Seath Ludovicus vivus, came by chance over a dangerous passage or plank that lay over a brook in the dark, without harm the next day perceiving what danger he was in fell down dead. Many will not believe such stories to be true, but laugh commonly and deride when they hear of them, but let these men consider with themselves, as Peter Byrus illustrates it, if they were set to walk upon a plank on high they would be giddy upon which they dare securely walk upon the ground. Many sayeth a grippa, strong-hearted men otherwise, tremble at such sights, dazzle and are sick, if they look but down from a high place, and what moves them but conceit, as some are so molested by fantasy, so some again, by fantasy alone, and a good conceit, are as easily recovered. We see commonly the toothache, gout, falling sickness, biting of a mad dog, and many such maladies cured by spells, words, characters and charms, and many green wounds, by that now so much used unguentum armarium magnetically cured, which Corleus and Goklenius, in a book of late hath defended, libovius in a just tract, as stiffly contradicts, and most men controvert. All the world knows there is no virtue in such charms or cures, but a strong conceit and opinion alone, as Pompanatius holds, which forceth a motion of the humours, spirits and blood, which takes away the cause of the malady from the parts affected. The like, we may say, of our magical effects, superstitious cures, and such as are done by mount-a-banks and wizards, as by wicked incredulity, many men are hurt, so sayeth Wiros, of charms, spells, et cetera. We find in our experience, by the same means many are relieved, and empiric often times, and a silly chirurgian, more strange cures than a rational physician, Nemanus gives a reason, because the patient puts his confidence in him, which Avicenna prefers before art, precepts, and all remedies whatsoever, to his opinion alone, sayeth Cardan, which makes or marrs physicians, and he doth the best cures according to Hippocrates, in whom most trust, so diversely doth this fantasy of ours affect, turn, and wind, so imperiously command our bodies, which as another Proteus, or a Chameleon, can take all shapes, and is of such force, as Vakinas adds, that it can work upon others as well as ourselves. How can otherwise blear eyes in one man, cause the like affliction in another? Why doth one man's yawning make another yawn? One man's pissing provoke a second many times to do the like. Why doth the scraping of trenchers offend a third, or hacking of files? Why doth the carcass bleed when the murderer is brought before it? Some weeks after the murder hath been done. Why do witches and old women fascinate and bewitch children, but as Wiros, Paracelsus, Cardan, Misaldus, Valeriola, Caesar Vaninus, Campanella, and many philosophers think the forcible imagination of the one party moves and alters the spirits of the other. Nay more, they can cause and cure not only diseases, maladies, and several infirmities by this means, as Avacenna supposeth in parties remote, but move bodies from their places, cause thunder, lightning, tempests, witch-opinion alkindus, Paracelsus, and some others approve of, so that I may certainly conclude this strong conceit or imagination is astrum hominus, and the rudder of this our ship, which reason should steer, but overborn by fantasy cannot manage, as so suffers itself, and this whole vessel of ours to be overruled, and often overturned read more of this in Wiros, Book 3, De Laumius, Chapters 8, 9, 10, Franciscus Valasius, Contraversiarium Medicorum et Philosophicorum, Book 5, Marcellus Donatus, Book 2, Chapter 1, Medica Historia Mirabilis, La Venus Lemnius, De Miracolis Occultis Natrai, Book 1, Chapter 12, Cardan, Book 18, De Ararum Wariatate, Cornelius Agrippa, De Occulta Philosophia, Chapters 64, 65, Camararius, 1st Centuria, Chapter 54, Horarum Successio Arum, Nimanus, Laurentius, and him that is Instaur Omnium Finus, a famous physician of Antwerp that wrote three books, De Wirabus Imaganationis. I have thus far digressed because this imagination is the medium deference of passions, by whose means they work and produce many times prodigious effects, and as the fantasy is more or less intended or remitted, and their humours disposed, so do perturbations move more or less, and take deeper impression. End of Section 31 Section 32 of the Anatomy of Melancholy, Volume 1, this is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Anatomy of Melancholy, Volume 1, by Robert Burton, Section 32, Partition 1, Section 2, Member 3, Subsections 3-6, Subsection 3, Division of Perturbations. Perturbations and passions which trouble the fantasy, though they dwell between the confines of sense and reason, yet they rather follow sense than reason, because they are drowned in corporeal organs of sense. They are commonly reduced into two inclinations, irascible and concupisable. The tomas subdivide them into eleven, six in the coveting, and five in the invading. Aristotle reduces it all to pleasure and pain, Plato to love and hatred, vivus to good and bad. If good it is present, and then we absolutely joy and love, or to come, and then we desire and hope for it. If evil we absolutely hate it, if present it is by sorrow, if to come, fear. These four passions Bernard compares to the wheels of a chariot, by which we are carried in this world. All other passions are subordinate unto these four, or six, as some will. Love, joy, desire, hatred, sorrow, fear, the rest as anger, envy, emulation, pride, jealousy, anxiety, mercy, shame, discontent, despair, ambition, avarice, etc., are reducible unto the first, and if they be immoderate they consume the spirits, and melancholy is especially caused by them. Some few discreet men there are that can govern themselves, and curb in these inordinate affections, by religion, philosophy, and such divine precepts, of meekness, patience, and the like. But most part for want of government, out of indiscretion, ignorance, they suffer themselves wholly to be led by sense, and are so far from repressing rebellious inclinations that they give all encouragement unto them, leaving the reins and using all provocations to further them. Bad by nature, worse by art, discipline, custom education, and a perverse will of their own, they follow on, wheresoever their unbridled affections will transport them, and do more out of custom, self-will, than out of reason. Contumax Voluntas, as Melanchthon calls it, malam facu, this stubborn will of ours perverts judgment, which sees and knows what should and ought to be done, and yet will not do it. Mancipia guli, slaves to their several lusts and appetites, they precipitate and plunge themselves into a labyrinth of cares, blinded with lust, blinded with ambition. They seek that at God's hands, which they may give unto themselves, if they could but refrain from those cares and perturbations, wherewith they continually macerate their minds. But giving way to these violent passions of fear, grief, shame, revenge, hatred, malice, etc. they are torn in pieces, as Actian was with his dogs, and crucify their own souls. Subsection 4. Sorrow, a cause of melancholy. Sorrow, insanus dolor. In this catalogue of passions which so much torment the soul of man, and cause this malady, for I will briefly speak of them all, and in their order, the first place in this irascible appetite may justly be challenged by Sorrow, an inseparable companion, the mother and daughter of melancholy. Her epitome, symptom, and chief cause, as Hippocrates hath it. They beget one another, and tread in a ring, for Sorrow is both cause and symptom of this disease. How it is a symptom shall be shown in its place, that it is a cause all the world acknowledges. Dolor d'un Nulis insanii calls a fuite, et aliorum or borum insanabilium, sayeth Plutarch to Apollonius, a cause of madness, a cause of many other diseases. A sole cause of this mischief Lemnius calls it. So doth races, Guianarius, and, if it take root once, it ends in despair, as Felix Plater observes, and as in Cebus' table, may well be coupled with it. Chrysostom, in his seventeenth epistle to Olympia, describes it to be a cruel torture of the soul, a most inexplicable grief, poisoned worm, consuming body and soul, and gnawing the very heart, a perpetual executioner, continual night, profound darkness, a whirlwind, a tempest, an eggyu not appearing, heeding worse than any fire, and a battle that hath no end. It crucifies worse than any tyrant, no torture, no stropado, no bodily punishment is like unto it. It is the eagle without question which the poets feign to gnaw Prometheus' heart, and no heaviness is like unto the heaviness of the heart. Ecclesiastes 25, 15, 16, every perturbation is a misery, but grief a cruel torment, a domineering passion, as in old Rome, when the dictator was created, all inferior magistracies ceased. When grief appears, all other passions vanish. It dries up the bones, sayeth Solomon, chapter 17, Proverbs, makes them hollow-eyed, pale and lean, furrow-faced, to have dead looks wrinkled brows, shriveled cheeks, dry bodies, and quite perverts their temperature, that are misaffected with it. As Eleonora, that exiled mournful duchess, in our English avid, laments to her noble husband Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, sawest thou those eyes in whose sweet cheerful look Duke Humphrey once such joy and pleasure took, sorrow hath so despoiled me of all grace, thou couldst not say, this was my Eleonora's face, like a foul gorgon, etc. It hinders concoction, refrigerates the heart, takes away stomach, color, and sleep, thickens the blood. Cornelius, book 1, chapter 18, De Morum Causes, contaminates the spirits. Piso overthrows the natural heat, perverts the good estate of body and mind, and makes them weary of their lives, cry out, howl and roar for very anguish of their souls. David confessed as much, Psalm 38.8, I have roared for the very disquietness of my heart, and Psalm 119, part 4 verse 4, my soul melted away for very heaviness, verse 38, I am like a bottle in the smoke. Antiochus complained that he could not sleep and that his heart fainted for grief. Christ himself, weird Dolarum, out of an apprehension of grief, did sweat blood, Mark 14. His soul was heavy to the death, and no sorrow was like unto his. Creto gives instance in one that was so melancholy by reason of grief, and Montanas in a noble matron that had no other cause of this mischief. ISD in Hildesheim fully cured a patient of his that was much troubled with melancholy, and for many years, but afterwards by a little occasion of sorrow he fell into his former fits, and was tormented as before. Examples are common how it causes melancholy, desperation, and sometimes death itself. Poor Ecclesiastes 38.15, of heaviness comes death, worldly sorrow causes death. 2 Corinthians 7.10, Psalms 31.10, my life is wasted with heaviness, and my years with mourning. Why was Hecuba said to be turned to a dog, Niobe into a stone, but that for grief she was senseless and stupid? Severus the Emperor died for grief, and how many myriads besides, Tanta Iliest Veritas, Tanta Estinsania Luctus, Melanchthon gives a reason of it. The gathering of much melancholy blood about the heart, which collection extinguisheth good spirits, or at least dulleth them, sorrow strikes the heart, makes it tremble and pine away with great pain, and the black blood drawn from the spleen, and diffused under the ribs, on the left side, makes those perilous hypochondriacal convulsions, which happen to them that are troubled with sorrow. Subsection 5 Fear a Cause Cousin German to sorrow is fear, or rather a sister. Feed is occultus, and continual companion, an assistant and a principal agent in procuring of this mischief, a cause and symptom as the other, in a word as Virgil of the harpies. I may justly say of them both. Tristius haude illis monstrum nexiae weor ulla, pestis et iredeum stigius sese ex duet undis. A sadder monster, or more cruel plague, so fell, or vengeance of the gods, near came from sticks or hell. This foul fiend of fear was worshipped here to fore as a god by the Lacedaemonians, and most of those other torturing affections, and so was sorrow amongst the rest, under the name of Angorona Dea. They stood in such awe of them as Augustine de Kivitate de Book 4, Chapter 8, noted, out of borrow. Fear was commonly adored and painted in their temples with a lion's head. And as Macrovious records, Book 10, Saturnalium, in the callons of January, Angorona had her holy day, to whom in the temple of Volupia, or goddess of pleasure, their augurs and bishops did yearly sacrifice, that being propitious to them, she might expel all cares, anguish, and vexation of the mind for that year following. Many lamentable effects this fear causeth in men as to be red, pale, tremble, sweat. It makes sudden cold and heat come over all the body, palpitation of the heart, syncope, etc. It amazeth many men that are to speak or show themselves in public assemblies, or before some great personages, as Toly confessed of himself that he trembled still at the beginning of his speech, and Demosthenes, that great orator of Greece, before Philippus. It confounds voice and memory, as Lucian Whittily brings in Jupiter Trigetus, so much afraid of his auditory, when he was to make a speech to the rest of the gods, that he could not utter a ready word, but was compelled to use Mercury's help in prompting. Many men are so amazed and astonished with fear, they know not where they are, what they say, what they do, and that which is worst, it tortures them many days before with continual affright and suspicion. It hinders most honorable attempts and makes their hearts ache, sad, and heavy. They that live in fear are never free, resolute, secure, never merry, but in continual pain, that as Beavis truly said, nula es miseria mai or qualmatus, no greater misery, no rack, nor torture, like unto it. Ever suspicious, anxious, solicitous, they are childishly drooping without reason, without judgment, especially of some terrible object to be offered, as Plutarch hath it. It causes, often times, sudden madness and almost all manner of diseases, as I have sufficiently illustrated in my digression of the force of imagination, and shall do more at large in my section of terrors. Fear makes our imagination conceive what it lists, invites the devil to come to us, as a grippa and cardan avouch, and tyranniseth over our fantasy more than all other affections, especially in the dark. We see this verified in most men, as Lavater sayeth quite machoant, fingant, what they fear they conceive, and feign unto themselves, they think they see goblins, hags, devils, and many times become melancholy thereby. Cardan, subtilitate librae 18 hath an example of such an one, so caused to be melancholy, by sight of a bugbear, all his life after. Augustus Caesar, durst not sit in the dark, nisi ale quo acidente, seeth suetonius, nun quam tenebrus, exigilauit, and tis strange what women and children will conceive unto themselves, if they go over a churchyard in the night, lie, or be alone in a dark room, how they sweat and tremble on a sudden, many men are troubled with future events, for knowledge of their fortunes, destinies, as severus the emperor, adrean, and demission, quod skeret ultimum vitae dium, seeth suetonius, qualdes oligotus, much tortured in mind because he foreknew his end, with many such, of which I shall speak more opportunely in another place, anxiety, mercy, pity, indignation, etc., and such fearful branches derived from these two stems of fear and sorrow, I voluntarily omit, read more of them in carolus pascalius, dandanus, etc. subsection 6 shame and disgrace causes, shame and disgrace cause most violent passions and bitter pangs, opudorum et dedicus pubicum olverorum, comisum seipe mowentur generosi animi, felix plater, book 3 de alianatione mentis. Generous minds are often moved with shame to despair for some public disgrace, and he saith philo, book 2 de providentia de, that subjects himself to fear, grief, ambition, shame is not happy, but altogether miserable, tortured with continual labor, care, and misery. It is as forcible a batterer as any of the rest. Many men neglect the tumults of the world and care not for glory, and yet they are afraid of infamy, repulse, disgrace, cicero, deoficius, book 1. They can severely condemn pleasure, bear grief indifferently, but they are quite battered and broken, with reproach and obliquy, sequitum vita et fama paripasu ambulant, and are so dejected many times for some public injury, disgrace, as a box on the ear by their inferior, to be overcome of their adversary, foiled in the field, to be out in a speech, some foul fact committed or disclosed, etc., that they dare not come abroad all their lives after, but melancholize in corners and keep in holes. The most generous spirits are most subject to it, spiritus altus rangid et generosus, Hieronymus, Aristotle, because he could not understand the motion of Euripus, for grief and shame drowned himself, Caelius radigamus, Anticoelectionus, book 29, chapter 8, Homerus Pudore Consumptus, was swallowed up with this passion of shame because he could not unfold the fisherman's riddle. Sophocles killed himself, for that a tragedy of his was hissed off the stage. Valerius Maximus, book 9, chapter 12. Lucretia stabbed herself, and so did Cleopatra, when she saw that she was reserved for a triumph to avoid the infamy. Antonius the Roman, after he was overcome of his enemy, for three days' space set solitary in the forepart of the ship, abstaining from all company, even of Cleopatra herself, and afterwards for very shame butchered himself. Plutarch Wetaeus, Apollonius Rodius, willfully banished himself forsaking his country and all his dear friends, because he was out in reciting his poems. Plenius, book 7, chapter 23. Ajax ran mad because his arms were adjudged to Ulysses. In China, it is an ordinary thing for such as are excluded in those famous trials of theirs, or should take degrees, for shame and grief to lose their wits. Matthias Riccius, de Cristiana Expeditione Appusinus, book 3, chapter 9. Hostratus the Friar took that book which Reuclin had rid against him, under the name of Epistula Obscurorum Virorum, so to heart that for shame and grief he made away with himself. Eobius Inelogius A grave and learned minister, and an ordinary preacher at Alkmar in Holland, was, one day as he walked in the fields for his recreation, suddenly taken with a wax or looseness, and thereupon compelled to retire to the next ditch. But being surprised at unawares by some gentle women of his parish wandering that way, was so abashed, that he did never after show his head in public, or come into the pulpit, but pined away with melancholy, Petrus forestus, Medici Absuationis book 10, Absuatio 12. So shame amongst other passions can play his prize. I know there be many base impudent brazen faced rogues that will nula palascareculpa, be moved with nothing, take no infamy or disgrace to heart, laugh at all, let them be proved perjured, stigmatized, convict rogues, thieves, traitors, lose their ears, be whipped, branded, carted, pointed at, hissed, reviled and derided, with Baleo the Baud in Plautus, they rejoice at it, cantores provos, babe and bomb-backs, what care they, we have too many such in our times, exclamant melecarta parisa, frontum direbus, yet a modest man, one that hath grace, a generous spirit, tender of his reputation, will be deeply wounded and so grievously affected with it, that he had rather give myriads of crowns, lose his life than suffer the least defamation of honor, or blot in his good name, and if so be that he cannot avoid it, as a nightingale, quacantando victimoritor, seeth mazaldus, dies for shame, if another bird sing better, he languisheth and pineeth away in the anguish of his spirit. 1. Section 2. Member 3. Subsections 7-9. Subsection 7. Envy, Malice, Hatred, Causes. Envy and Malice are two links of this chain, and both as Guarnierius Tractatus 15, Chapter 2, proves out of Galen, three aphorism, cause this malady by themselves, especially if their bodies be otherwise disposed to melancholy. Tis Valescus de Taranta and Felix Platteris' observation, Envy so gnaws many men's hearts that they become altogether melancholy, and therefore, be like Solomon Proverbs 14-13, calls it, the rotting of the bones, Cyprian, Vulnus occultum, Siculi non invenere tirani mayus tormentum. The Sicilian tyrants never invented the like torment. It crucifies their souls, withers their bodies, makes them hollowed-eyed, pale, lean and ghastly to behold. Cyprian, Sermo II, Deselo et Livore. As a moth gnaws a garment, so says Chrysostom, death Envy consume a man, to be a living anatomy, a skeleton, to be a lean and pale carcass, quickened with a fiend, for so often, as an envious wretch sees another man prosper, to be enriched, to thrive, and be fortunate in the world to get honors, offices, or the like, he repines and grieves. Intabesitque videndo. Successus ominum suplitiumque suum est. He tortures himself if his equal, friend, neighbor, be preferred, commended, do well. If he understands of it, it calls him afresh, and no greater pain can come to him than to hear of another man's well-doing. Tis a dagger at his heart every such object. He looks at him as they that fell down in Lucian's rock of honor, with an envious eye, and will damage himself to do another enmischiff, ad quicadet subitu dum super hoste cadat. As he did in Essap, lose one eye willingly, that his fellow might lose both, or that rich man and quintillion that poisoned the flowers in his garden, because his neighbor's bees should get no more honey from them. His whole life is sorrow, and every word he speaks is satire. Nothing fads him but other man's ruins. For to speak in a word envy is not else but tristia de bonis alienis, sorrow for other men's good, be it present, past, or to come. Et gaudium de adversis, and joy at their harms, opposite to mercy, which grieves at other man's mischances and misaffects the body in another kind. So the Maschian defines it, Book 2 de ortodoxa fide, Thomas Aquinas 2.2, Question 36, Part 1, Aristotle, Book 2, Rhetorix, Chapter 4 and 10, Plato, Cicero, 3, Tuscalans, Gregorius Nisenus, Liber de virtutibus anime, Chapter 12, Basil de envidia, Pinderos, Ode 1, and we find it true. Tis a common disease and almost natural to us, as Tacitus holds, to envy another man's prosperity. And tis in most men an incurable disease. I have read Seth Marcus Aurelius, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldea authors. I have consulted with many wise men for a remedy for envy. I could find but none, but to renounce all happiness and to be a wretch and miserable forever. Tis the beginning of hell in this life and a passion not to be excused. Every other sin hath some pleasure annexed to it, or will admit of an excuse. Envy alone wants both. Other sins last but for a while. The gut may be satisfied. Anger remits. Hatred hath an end. Envy never ceaseth. Carden, Book 2, Disapientia. Divine and humane examples are very familiar. You may run and read them as that of Saul and David, Cain and Abel, Angebad Ilum non proprio Pecatum, Seth Fratris Prosperitas, Seth Theodorat. It was his brother's good fortune galled him. Rachel envied her sister being barren, Genesis 30. Joseph's breath in him, Genesis 37. David had a touch of this vice as he confesseth Psalms 37. Jeremy and Habukuk, they repined at others good, but in the end they corrected themselves. Psalm 75. Fret not thyself, etc. The mission spiked a greekola for his worth, that a private man should be so much glorified. Chachina was envied of his fellow citizens, because he was more richly adorned. But of all others, women are most weak. Ob pulcritudinem invidie sunt femine, museus, aut amat, aut odit nihil est tertium, granatensis. They love or hate no medium amongst them. Implacabiles plerunque les semulleres. Agrippina, like a woman, if she sees her neighbor more neat or elegant, richer in tires, jewels or apparel, is enraged and, like a lioness, sets upon her husband, rails at her, scoffs at her and cannot bide her. So the roman ladies and tacitas did at Solonina, Chachina's wife, because she had a better horse and better furniture, as if she had hurt them with it. They were much offended. In like sort, our gentle women do at their usual meetings, one repines or scoffs at another's bravery and happiness. Mersin, an attic wench, was murdered of her fellows because she did excel the rest in beauty. Constantine Caesar, the agricultura book 11 chapter 7. Every village will yield such examples. Subsection 8. Emulation, hatred, faction, desire of revenge, causes. Out of this root of envy, spring those feral branches of faction, hatred, liver, emulation, which cause the like grievances and are serria anime, the souls of the soul, consternationis pleni affectus, affections full of desperate amazement. Or as Cyprian describes emulation, it is a moth of the soul, a consumption, to make another man's happiness his misery, to torture, crucify and execute himself to eat his own heart. Meat and drink can do such men no good. They do always grieve, sigh and groan, day and night without intermission, their breast is torn asunder, and a little after, whomsoever he is, whom thou dost emulate an envy, he may avoid thee, but thou canst neither avoid him nor thyself. Wheresoever thou art, he is with thee, thine enemy is ever in thy breast. Thy destruction is within thee, thou art a captive, bound hand and foot, as long as thou art malicious and envious, and canst not be comforted. It was the devil's overthrow, and whensoever thou art thoroughly affected with this passion, it will be thine. Yet no perturbations so frequent, no passion so common. A potter emulates a potter, one smith embies another, a beggar emulates a beggar, a singing man, his brother. Every society, corporation and private family is full of it. It takes hold almost of all sorts of men, from the prince to the plowmen, even amongst gossips it is to be seen. Scars three in a company, but there is siding, faction, emulation between two of them, some simultas, jar, private grudge, heart-burning in the midst of them. Scars two gentlemen dwell together in the country if they be not near kin or linked in marriage, but there is emulation betwixt them and their servants, some quarrel or some grudge betwixt their wives or children, friends and followers, some contention about wealth, gentry, presidency, etc., by means of which, like the frog in Essup, that would swell till she was as big as an ox, burst herself at last. They will stretch beyond their fortunes, callings, and strive so long that they consume their substance in lawsuits or otherwise in hospitality, feasting, fine clothes, to get a few bombast titles, for ambitiosa pauperta elaboramos omnes, to out-brave one another, they will tire their bodies, macerate their souls, and through contentions or mutual invitations, beggar themselves. Scars two great scholars in an age, but with bitter invectives, they foul-foul one on the other and their adherents, scottists, thomists, reels, nominals, plaito, and Aristotle, galanists, and parasolcians, etc., it holds in all professions. Honest emulation in studies and all callings is not to be disliked, tis ingeniorum cos, as one calls it, the wet stone of wit, the nurse of wit and valor, and those noble Romans out of the spirit did brave exploits. There is a modest ambition, as Temistocles was roused up with the glory of Miltiades, Achilles' trophies, moved Alexander. Ambire sem per stulta confidencia est, ambire nun quand deses arrogantia est. Tis a sluggish humor not to emulate or to sue at all, to withdraw himself, neglect, refrain from such places, honors, offices, through sloth, niggerdliness, fear, bashfulness, or otherwise, to which by his birth, place, fortunes, education, he is called apt, fit, and well able to undergo. But when it is immoderate it is a plague and a miserable pain. What a deal of money did Henry VIII and Francis I, King of France, spend at that famous interview. And how many vain courtiers, seeking each to outbrave others, spent themselves their livelihood in fortunes and died beggars. Adrien the Emperor was so galled with it that he killed all his equals, so did Nero. This passion made Dionysus the tyrant, Banish Plato and Felixinus the poet, because they did excel and eclipse his glory as he thought. The Romans exalcorleanos, confined Camillus, murder Scipio, the Greeks by ostracism to expel Aristides, Nicias, Alcibiades, and Prisintesius, make away Fosien, etc. When Richard I and Philip of France were fellow soldiers together at the Siege of Achan in the Holy Land, and Richard had approved himself to be the more valiant man, in so much that all men's eyes were upon him, it so called Philip, Francum Urebat Regis Victoria, Seth Mein author, Tamegre Ferebat Ricardi Gloriam Ut Carpere Dicta Cullinari Facta, that he cavalled at all his proceedings and fell at length to open defiance. He could contain no longer, but hasting home invaded his territories and professed open war. Hatred stirs up contention, Proverbs 10th, 12th, and they break out at last into immortal enmity, into virulency, and more than Batinian hate and rage. They persecute each other, their friends, followers, and all their prosperity with bitter taunts, hostile wars, scurled inventives, libals, colonies, fire, sword, and the like, and will not be reconciled. Witness that Guelph and Gibriline faction in Italy, that of the Adurni and Fragosi in Genoa, that of Caneus, Papyrus, and Quintus Fabius in Rome, Caesar and Pompeii, Orleans and Burgundy in France, York and Lancaster in England. Yeah, this passion so rages many times, that it subverts not men only, and families, but even populous cities. Carthage and Corinth can witness as much, nay, flourishing kingdoms are brought into a wilderness by it. This hatred, malice, faction, and desire of revenge, invented first all those racks and wheels, strapados, brazen bulls, feral engines, prisons, inquisitions, severe laws to macerate and torment one another. How happy might we be, and end our time with blessed days and sweet content, if we could contain ourselves, and, as we ought to do, put up injuries, learn humility, meekness, patience, forget and forgive, as in God's word we are enjoined, compose such final controversies amongst ourselves, moderate our passions in this kind, and think better of others as Paul would have us than of ourselves. Be of like affection one towards another, and not avenge ourselves, but have peace with all men. But being that we are so peevish and perverse, insolent and proud, so factious and seditious, so malicious and envious, we do in vincem angariare, maul and vex one another, torture, disquiet, and precipitate ourselves into that gulf of woes and cares, aggravate our misery and melancholy, heap upon us hell and eternal damnation. Subsection 9, Anger, a cause. Anger, a perturbation which carries the spirit outwards, preparing the body to melancholy and madness itself, ira furor brevis est, anger is temporary madness, and, as Pico Lomineo's accounts it, one of the three most violent passions. Ariesius sets it down for a special cause, so Doth Seneca epistles 18-1 of this melody. Magninus gives the reason, ex frecuente ira supramodum calefiunt, it overheats their bodies, and if it be too frequent, it breaks out into manifest madness, says Saint Ambrose. Tis a known saying, furor fit jaesa sepeus patientia, the most patient spirit that is, if he be often provoked, will be incensed to madness. It will make a devil of a saint, and therefore Basil, be like in his homily de ira, calls it tenebras racionis morbum anime ed demonum pessimum, the darkening of our understanding and a bad angel. Lucian, in abdicto tom 1, will have this passion to work this effect, especially in old men and women. Anger and calamni, saith he, trouble them at first and after a while, break out into madness. Many things cause fury in women, especially if they love or hate over much, or envy, be much grieved or angry. These things, by little and little, lead them on to this melody. From a disposition they proceed to a habit, for there is no difference between a mad man and an angry man. In the time of his fit, anger, as Lactantius describes it, liber de ira dei ad donatum, chapter 5, is severe anime tempestas, etc., a cruel tempest of the mind, making his eyes sparkle fire and stare, teeth nash in his head, his tongue stutter, his face pale or red, and what more filthy imitation can be of a mad man. Ora tu menti ira fervescun sanguine venee, lumina gorgonio sevius angue micant. They are void of reason, inexorable, blind, like beasts and monsters for the time, say and do they know not, what, curse, swear, rail, fight, and what not. How can a mad man do more? As he said in the comedy, ira cundia non sum apud me, I am not mine own man. If these fits be immoderate, continue long or be frequent, without doubt they provoke madness. Montanus had a melancholy Jew to his patient. He ascribes this for a principal cause. Iras shebatur levibus de causis. He was easily moved to anger. Ajax had no other beginning of his madness, and Charles VI, that lunatic French king, fell into this misery out of the extremity of his passion, desire of revenge and malice, incensed against the Duke of Britain. He could neither eat, drink, nor sleep for some days together, and in the end, about the calends of July 1392, he became mad upon his horseback, drawing his sword, striking such as came near him promiscuously, and so continued all the days of his life. Egesipus, estoria de exidio urbis ierosolimitanie, book one, chapter 37, hath such a story of herald, that out of an angry fit became mad, leaping out of his bed, he killed Egesipus, and played many such bedlam pranks. The whole court could not rule him for a long time after. Sometimes he was sorry and repented, much grieved for that he had done. Postquam de ferbuit ira, by and by egregious again. In hot, choleric bodies, nothing so soon causeth madness, as this passion of anger, besides many other diseases, as Palaeus observes, chapter 21, book one, de umorum affectionum causis, sanguinem immunit fel au jet, and as Valesius controvers, controversiarum medicarum et filosificarum, book five, controversia eight, many times kills them quite out. If this were the worst of this passion, it were more tolerable, but it ruins and subverts whole towns, cities, families, and kingdoms. Nulla pestis umano generi pluris stetit, seth sanika de ira, book one. No plague hath done mankind so much harm. Look into our histories, and you shall almost meet with no other subject, but what a company of harebrains have done in their rage. We may do well, therefore, to put this in our procession amongst the rest. From all blindness of heart, from pride, vain glory, and hypocrisy, from envy, hatred, and malice, anger, and all such bestiferous perturbations, good Lord deliver us. End of section 33