Em Swedenborg RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY Being Part Seven of The Animal Kingdom 1742 Norbert H Rogers Alfred Acton SSA 1950

RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
A POSTHUMOUS WORK
BY
EMANUEL SWEDENBORG
Translated from the Latin by
NORBERT H. ROGERS and ALFRED ACTON
and
Edited by ALPRED ACTON
Swedenborg Scientific Association
Philadelphia. Pa.
1950
PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY
LANCASTER PRESS, INC., LANCASTER, PENN....
INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR

The MS., of which the present volume is a translation, was
written by Swedenborg in 1742. It is now preserved in the
Royal Academy of Sciences in Stockholm, in a bound volume
(Codex24) entitled by the binder Physiologica et M eta
physica. This volume consists of a Preface, 2 leaves unnum
bered j draft notes on the Fibre, 2 leaves also unnumbered;
the main work (without title), commencing with chapter XV
(leaves 1-117) j and Ontologia (leaves 118-26). The binding,
however, was done after Swedenborg's heirs had deposited
his MSS. in the Royal Academy, for, as will be noted later,
the two leaves on the Fibre have no proper place in the volume.
Nothing was known of the contents of Codex 54 until 1845,
when Dr. P. E. Svedbom, the learned Librarian of the Royal
Academy, gave a detailed description of them in a letter ad
dressed to the London Printing Society (Ec. An. King. Il,
Appendix) .
Three years later (1848) the Royal Academy graciously sent
the Codex to Dr. J. F. Im. Tafel who published the greater
part of it, namely, up to leaf 117, under the title Reg!E""!!'
Animale, Pars Septem,1 De Anima, Tubingae et Londini, 1849.
An English translation of Nos. 351-77,344-50 and 197-202 by
the Rev. J. H. Smithson was printed in the Intellectual Re
pository for 1849 and 1850. No further translation appeared
until 1887 when the New Church Board of Publications pub
lished an English translation of the whole work by the Rev.
Frank Se~all, then President of Urbana University, under
the title The Soul or Rational Psychology. A second printing
was made in 1900.
1 Dr. Tafel published Sweden The Five Senses; V. (Reserved for".. ".
borg's physiological works as con some unpublished work) ; VI. Gen .
tinuations of Parts I-Ill of the eration; VII. The Soul. See the
Animal Kingdom published by Preface to the latter work, p. vi.
Swedenborg himself, namely, iv.
111
The work was used as a textbook in the College of The

Academy of the New Church, and when it became out of
print, the need for a new edition was keenly felt-and not
only a new edition but also a new translation; for Dr. Sewall's
translation contained many inaccuracies due in part to a
faulty Latin text. I must add, however, that the present work
is indebted to the previous translation for many useful sug
gestions.
Therefore, in 1939 I asked the Rev. Norbert H. Rogers if he
would undertake to translate the work under my general super
vision. Mr. Rogers readily accepted, and during his years
as Assistant Pastor of the Carmel Church in Kitchener (1938
1943) and of the Bryn Athyn Church (1943-1946), and later
as Pastor of the Durban Society in South Africa, he trans
lated Nos. 15-280 inclusive. In 1949, however, being unable
to spare the time from his pastoral duties, Mr. Rogers was
forced to discontinue the work. I therefore took it up and
completed the translation.
During the whole course of the work by Mr. Rogers and my
self, the photostated manuscript was consulted in all cases
where the text seemed doubtful or obscure. This led to the
discovery of a number of errors in the printed Latin text.
These are noted in the Appendix to the present volume. The
Appendix also lists some variations between the numbering
of the present translation and Dr. Sewall's translation.
As noted above, Codex 54 co~~~with the four unnum
bered leaves containing the Preface and the Draft Notes on
the Fibre, after which comes "Chapter XV" on leaf 1, and so
on to leaf 117.
As to the leaves containing the Notes on the Fibre, [IX]
XIV, these Notes clearly show that they were not origi
nally a part of the volume. This is further confirmed by the
fact that the leaves are unnumbered, while all the other leaves
of the volume, except the Preface, are numbered. When the
Swedenborg MSS. were deposited with the Royal Academy by
the heirs, these two leaves were simply loose sheets, and they
iv
came later to be bound in with the volume because the last

entry on leaf 2 ends with "XIV. De tunica Arachnoides,"
while page 1 of the MS. commences with "Chapter XV."
Yet the reverse side of leaf 2 is blank, and this should have
shown that the two leaves have no proper place in the Codex,
to say nothing of the fact that their contents have no con
nection with the subj1ect of Chapter XV. These contents are
printed in the Appendix to the present volume, and there the
reader can see further particulars concerning them.
The MS. has no title, but the title "Rational Psychology"
is indicated with sufficient clearness by the reference in the
Preface to Transaction V as the immediately preceding Trans
action. In a sketch of the six proposed Transactions of the
Economy of the Animal Kingdom which Swede~horg wrote in
C;;d~36- (A Phil. Note Book;MS. pp. 262-63), Trans8..Qtion
Y is headed "Introduction to Rational Psychology." The
title of Transaction VI would therefore be "Rational Psy
chology." The title "The Soul" is hardly descriptive of the
work, for the soul is only one of the four general subjects
treated of, the others being, Sensation, the Animus, and the
Rational Mind.
In the sketch of the proposed Transactions just spoken of,
the contents of Transaction VI are given as follows:
1. The Body in General.

2. The Soul in General.
3. The Animal Spirit.
4. The Blood.
5. Sensation and Motion [Action].
6. Imagination and Memory.
7. The Rational Mind.
8. The Soul.
9. Concordance of Systems.
10. Death and Immortality.
11. The Soul after Death.
12. Heaven.
13. Divine Providence, Predestination, [etc.].
14. Appendix. Passions of the Animus.
v
The parts printed in bold type were an written by Sweden

borg as separate treatises 2 with the intention of printing them
from time to time under the general heading "Psychological
Transactions" (Psychol. Tr., p. 22). In this co-nrleetion, it
may be noted that the works on the Animal Spirit, Sensation
and Motion (Action) which are now bound with other MSS,
in Codex 74, were separate MSS. or one separate MS., when
deposited in the Royal Academy by Swedenborg's heirs (Doe.
cone. Swedenborg, Ill, 784).
There remains now the question, Why does Codex 54 begin
with Chapter XV? The answer is supplied by a cursory ex
amination of the work on Sensation just alluded to. This
work comprises Chapters I-XIV, each individual paragraph
therein being marked as a chapter usually with a long head
ing. The Rational Psychology commences with Chapter XV,
and here also, with hardly an exception, each paragraph-from
Chapter XV to Chapter LXVII-is marked as a chapter
with a long heading. Moreover, the opening paragraph of
the work is a direct continuation of the work on Sensation.
There can be no doubt, therefore, that, while Swedenborg wrote
the work on Sensation with the intention of publishing it as a
separate "Transaction," when he undertook the Rational Psy
chology, he decided to commence it with what he had already
written on Sensation.
As just stated, the work on Sensation comprises Chapters
I-XIV, but the last chapter consist; of nothing but the bare
~g "Chapter XIV." It would seem, therefore, that when
Swedenborg commenced the Rational Psychology with Chap
ter XV, he either intended to fill in Chapter XIV, or, what,
from the continuity of the subject, seems more probable, he
forgot that Chapter XIV had been left unwritten.
In the translation, the chapter headings have been incorpo
rated in italics as parts of the paragraphs that follow them,
and the chapter numbering I-LXVII has been changed to
paragraph numbers. This numeration has been continued to
'An English translation of these logical Transactions pp. 75 seq., 95
treatises may be seen in Psycho- seq., 145 seq., 117 seq., and 21 seq.
VI
the end of the work, though in the MS, after Chapter LXVII,
neither chapters nor paragraphs are numbered.
I would add a word of gratitude to my niece and secretary,
Miss Beryl G. Briscoe, for her careful and laborious work in
the preparation of the MS. and the seeing of it through the
press.
And now to the work itself.
ALFRED ACToN
BRYN ATHYN, PENNSYLVANIA
November 1949
vii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Nos.
PREFACE
I SENSATION OR THE PASSION OF THE BODy . 1
II TOUCH 35
III TASTE 39
IV SMELL 43
V HEARING 49
VI SIGHT 68
VII PERCEPTION, IMAGINATION, MEMORY, AND
THEIR IDEAS 91
VIII THE PuRE INTELLECT 123
IX THE HUMAN INTELLECT: Intellection, Thought,
Reasoning, and Judgment 140
X THE COMMERCE OF SOUL AND BODY 159
XI HARMONIES AND THE AFFECTIONS ARISING
THEREFROM. DESIRES IN GENERAL 175
XII THE ANIMUS AND ITS AFFECTIONS 197
Gladness 201
Sadness 202
Loves in General 203
Venereal Love 204
Hatred and Loathing of Venery 206
Conjugial Love 207
Conjugial Hatred 208
Love of Parents toward Their Children, or Storge 209
Love of Society and Country 210
Love toward Companions and Friendship 213
Hatred 214
Love of Self, Ambition, Pride, Arrogance 215
Humility, Contempt [of Self), Depression
of Animus ............•................... 219
IX
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Hope* and Despair .... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 223
Love of the Immortality of Fame after Death. . .. 225
Generosity, Magnanimity. What the Loves of the
World and the Body are 227
Pusillanimity and Folly 232
.Avarice* 233
Prodigality, Liberality, Contempt of Wealth 237
Compassion, Charity 238
Fear and Dread 241
Courage, Fearlessness, Impetuosity 246
Indignation, t Anger, Fury, Zeal 252
Patience, Meekness, Tranquillity of Animus,
Impatience 257
Shame 262
Envy 267
Revenge 270
Misanthropy, Love of Solitude '" 273
Cruelty 276
Clemency 279
Intemperance, Luxury 280
Temperance, Parsimony, Frugality 281
XIII THE ANIMUS AND THE RATIONAL MIND ••...•.... 282
XIV THE FORMATION AND AFFECTIONS OF THE
RATIONAL MIND ............•..............•. 298
XV THE LoVES AND AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND) ....•• 315
Love of Understanding and Being Wise 318
Love of Knowing Things Hidden; Wonder 319
Love of Foreknowing the Future 321
Love of Truths and Principles 322
Love of Good and Evil 324
The Affirmative and Negative 326
Conscience 328
The Highest Good and Highest Truth 329
Love of Virtues and Vices; Honor, Decorum 333
XVI CONCLUSION AS TO WHAT THE ANIMUS IS, WHAT THE
SPIRITUAL MIND AND WHAT THE RATIONAL MIND 340
.. Hope and avarice are not affections of the animus; see nos. 223
and 234.
t Indignation is a.n affection of the ra.tional mind; see n. 256.
x
TABLE OF CONTENTS
XVII FREE DECISION, OR THE CHOICE OF MORAL

GOOD AND EVIL 351
XVIII THE WILL AND ITS LIBERTY, AND WHAT THE

INTELLECT IS IN RELATION THERETO 378
XIX DISCOURSE ............................••...... 401
XX HUMAN PRUDENCE ' 405
XXI SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION 408

XXII CUNNING AND MALICE ...........•............. 412
XXIII SINCERITY .... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 414
XXIV JUSTICE AND EQUITY .................•...... , 415
XXV SCIENCE, INTELLIGENCE, WISDOM 419
XXVI THE CAUSES WHICH CHANGE THE STATE OF THE
INTELLECT AND RATIONAL MIND, THAT IS, PERVERT
OR PERFECT IT 422
XXVII LoVEs OF THE SOUL OR SPIRITUAL LoVES . . . . . . . . . .. 429
The Love of a Being Above Oneself 432
The Love of a Comrade as Oneself . . . . . . .. 434
Loving Society as Being Many Selves 438
The Love of Being Close to the One Loved 440
The Love of Surpassing in Felicity, Power,
and Wisdom 442
The Love of Propagating Heavenly Society by
Natural Means 447
The Love of One's Body ....................• 449
The Love of Immortality 451
Spiritual Zeal 453
The Love of Propagating the Kingdom and
City of God 455
XXVIII THE DERIVATION OF CORPOREAL LOVES FROM SPIRIT-
UAL, AND THEIR CONCENTRATION IN THE RA-
TIONAL MIND . . . . . . .. 457
XXIX PURE OR DIVINE LOVE REGARDED IN ITSELF . . . . . . .. 460
XXX THE INFLUX OF THE ANIMUS AND ITs AFFECTIONS
INTO THE BODY, AND OF THE BODY INTO THE
ANIMUS 462
xi
TABLE OF CONTENTS
XXXI THE INFLUX OF THE RATIONAL MIND INTO THE

ANIMUS, AND BY THE ANIMUS INTO THE BODY;
AND THE INFLUX OF THE ANIMUS INTO THE RA
TIONAL MIND •...•...•........••..•.•..•••..• 470
XXXII THE INFLUX OF THE SPIRITUAL MIND OR Soul: INTO

THE ANIMUS,";moo;-THE ANIM-;SINTO THE
SPIRITUAL MIND ••.•.•.....•.•.........•...•. 473
XXXIU THE INFLUX OF THE SPIRITUAL LOVES OF THE SOUL
INTO THE RATIONAL MIND, AND THE REVERSE ••. 476
XXXIV [INHERITED CHARACTERISTICS] ....•••••.•..•...• 477
Inclination 477
Temperaments 482
XXXV DEATH ..••••••...•.•••.•...••••....•••••....• 486
XXXVI THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL . . . . . . • . . . • . . . . . . 498
XXXVII THE STATE OF THE SOUL AFTER THE DEATH
OF THE BODY ••••..•.•..••••...••.•.••..•.••• 511
XXXVIII IlEAVEN OR THE SOCIETY OF HAPPY SOULS .••••.•• 533
XXXIX HELL, OR THE SOCIETY OF UNHAPPY SOULS ....•.• 543
XL DIVINE PROVIDENCE .••••...••.......•..•....•.. 549
XLI FATE, FORTUNE, PREDESTINATION, HUMAN PRUDENCE
[title only] 561
XLII A UNIVERSAL MATHESIS • . . . • . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • 562
ApPENDIX
The first three pages of Codex 54
Key to paragraph numbers
Corrections of Latin Text.
INDEX
XlI
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
Preface
I haye undertaken to search out with all possible zeal what
the souQs, what t~ b_ody, and what the intercourse between
them, and also what the state of the soul is when in the body,
and what her state after the life of the body. But, desiring
the end, it devolved on me to desire also the means; and,
when thinking intently concerning the path to be pursued,
where to begin, and, consequently,on what course to ri:i~as
to a goal, I finally discerned that no other course lay open
save that which leads through th~ anatomy of the soul's or
ganic body, it being there that she carries on her sports and
completes her course. She is to be sought solely in the abid
ing place and lodgment where she js, that is to say, in her
own field of action. It was for this reason that I first of all
treated of the blood and the heart, and also of the cortical
substance, and, furthermore," am to treat of "its '[i. e., the
body's] several organs and viscera, and then of the cerebrum,
cerebellum, and medullas oblongata and spinalis. l Thus
'As indicated later on in his Transactions are to treat of the
Preface, Swedenborg wrote the organs of the body. The present
Rational Psychology as the sixth of text, however, intimates that these
his "Transactions" entitled Econ organs are to be treated of in
omy of the Animal Kingdom. Transaction Ill, changing Trans
Transaction I on the Blood and action III as originally planned to
the Heart, and Transaction II on Transaction IV, and so on.
the Cortical Substance, he had al Here we have the first intima
ready published. In Codex 36 tion that Swedenborg contemplat
(A Phil. Note Book), pp. 262--63 ed changing the plan of the series
and 268, he gives the contents of of works which were to culminate
the remaining Transactions as fol in the Rational Psychology. At
lows: Ill. The Cerebrum; IV. The first he intended to approach the
Cerebellum and Medullas; V. In soul merely by an examination of
troduction to Rational Psychol the brain and medullas, and the
ogy; VI. Rational Psychology. laying down of certain new doc
There is no hint that any of these trines. It was in pursuance of this
1
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
armed, I am in the way of making further progress. I have

pursued'this anatomy solely for the purpose of searching out
the soul. If I should thereby have supplied anything of use
to the anatomical and medical world, it would give me pleas
) ure, but the pleasure would be greater if I should have thrown
light on the s~!,ch for the soul. The body, especially the
human body with its several organs and members, is so marvel
ously woven that here Nature has gathered together and
poured forth the whole of her art and science with all that
lies inmostly within. Therefore, if one is intent on searching
out Nature in her supreme and inmost recesses, he must run
r through these several organs and members; and the longer
he dwells on them, the more numerous are the marvels and
I the hidden mysteries that are brought to light; and though
\ thrice the age of Nestor were his, yet other mysteries remain
to be brought to the light of day. Nature is an abyss, as it
were, and nought remains but amaze1!!-e1}t.
Therefore, that I may explore the soul, it is necessary that
I unfold those manifold coverings which remove her from our
eyes as though she dwelt in some center. I must proceed by
the analytic way, or through experience to causes, and then
through causes to principles; that is to say, from posterior
-. things t.2-prior. Such is the only way to the knowledgeof
things superior that is granted us. And when by this way
we have been raised up to genuine principles, then first is it
permitted us to proceed by the synthetic way, that is to say,
from the prior to things posterior. This is the way of the
soul in her action upon her body. It is the angelic way; for
then, from the prior, or from things first, men see all-posterior
plan that he had treated of the Soul It was perhaps at this time that
in the second volume of the Econ he began to drnit a new series of
omy of the Ani m a l Kingdom. works to be comprised in four
Later, he confesses that he had "Tomes," as follows: 1. The Or
proceeded too hastily CAn. Kino. gans of the Body, including Gen
19). And now he sees that he eration; ll. The Brain; Ill. Intro
must first take up the anatomy duction to Rational Psychology;
of the whole body; he had already, IV. Rational Psychology CA Phil.
as it seems, written the work on N. B. MS., pp. 253--55, 265).
Generation CPsychol. TT., p. 69).
2
PREFACE
things as beneath them. Therefore, before it is permitted us

to speak of the soul a priori from principles, that is to say,
synthetically, we must strive upward by this human analytic
way by means of posterior thing;,-experience, and effects; in
other words, we must strive upward by the ladder which leads
\ us to those principles or that heaven. To climb up to the
\ soul is not possible save by way of her organs whereby she
I descends into her body; thus, solely by the anatomy of her
body.
To ascend from the organic and material body all the way
to the soul, that is, to a spiritual essence which is also imma
terial, was not permissible unless first I cleared the way that
r would lead me thither. It behooved me to elaborate certain
, new doctrines hitherto unknown, that they may be compan
I ions and guides without whom we can never attempt this pas
- - -
sage, to wit, the doctrine of forms, the doctrine of order and
degrees, then the doctrine of correspondences and representa
tions, and finally the doctrine of modifications. These doc
trines are treated of in the Fifth Transaction, being our In
troduction to Rational Psyehology.2 - ~
Thus, at last it is now permitted us to treat of the soul from
J>rinciples or synthetically. From the first age even to the
', present day -Whentl'i"einfant that has been conceived is to
be brought forth and born, the learned world has awaited this
1 moment, ~hen we may ascend upward to genuine principles.
For this re~n are all the sciences, both philosophical and
I
physical; for this reason is all the experience that may give
light; to this point has the entire learned world directed itself,
to wit, that it may be able to speak from genuine principles,
and to treat of posterior things synthetically. Of this nature
is angelic perfection; of this nature is that science whichis
h_e~venly and which is the first natural science. Thi_s, mo!~
over, is the nature of our connate ambition-the ambitiQn,
"According to the plan referred noid, the Doctrines of Order and
to in the preceding footnote, Degrees, of Fonns, of Correspond
Transaction V was to treat of the ences and Representations, of
Cortica}-'and Medullary Sub Modifications, and finally Ontol
stance of the Brain, the Arach- ogy (C~~ p. 263).
3
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
namely, that we strive upward to the integrity of our first

parent, who determined all posterior things a priori and- th'us,
not only saw the whole of nature as beneath him, but also
commanded it as his subject; for tQ. judge effects from princi
ples is the highest point of learning. Hence it is clear how
import!lon~ it is that -;re s..frlv~ after true principl~s; and this
never can be done save by the posterior way, being the way
of the senses, of experience, of the sciences, and of the arts.
These are human in that they must be learned. They are not
of the soul for, in her, such sciences are implanted and flow
forth of themselves.
The path on which to strive upward from experience through
the sciences, comprising all the sciences, physical and philo
sophical, to things prior and to very principles, is not only
steep but is also extremely wide, requiring us to run; not
through a single field, but through many. Many of Nestor's
ages are needed; ~r w~per.petually come across things that
( confuse the mind, and persuade it to perceive them as pre
) sented by the senses. The mind then believes that it has hIt
) the nail on the head because it speaks in accordance with
(sensation-which is the reason why there are so many hy
potheses and errors. Indeed, superior nature is such that it is
the more hidden from our senses in the degree that we con
sult those senses; the mind then becomes more darkened, the
more it is confused by the greater abundance of the rays.
The senses are like so many black shades, and as we plunge
) into these shades, the quasi-light of sight and imagination
seems to take flight; and they become more clear, as it were,
1 the more we are able to disperse these rays. It is as though

there were another sphere of light. The light of intelligence
and the light of sight mutually extinguish each other. There
fore, for the most part, we do not love ~~ght of wisdom
because it obscures the light of imagination, according to the
wor<!~ 9f Plato: 3 ["Often when my soul, le~~hig the body,
• In the MS., the word Plato is There can be no doubt but that
followed by a blank which the the intended quotation is that
Author intended to fill in later. which we have here supplied from
4
PREFACE
has been in contemplation, I seemed to enjoy the highest good,

and this with incredible pleasure. Therefore, I was in a man
ner struck with astonishment, perceiving that I was a part
of a superior world, and feeling myself to be endowed with
immortality under the highest degree· of light; which percep
tion can neither be expressed in speech nor perceived by ears
nor comprehended in thought. Finally, wearied with this con
templation, the intellect fell back into fantasy, and then, with
the ceasing of that light, I became sad. Once again, leaving
the body and returning to that world, I perceived the soul
abounding in light, and this light then flowing into the body,
and afterward raised up above the latter. Thus speaks Plato."
(Aristotle, Div. Sap. secundum Aegyptos, L: I, c: iv.)]
f For this reason I have labored with most intense zeal t~~t
from the one light I l12ighi p~jnto the other. Wherefore,
( kind reader, if you will deign to follow me thither, I believe
1 that you will apprehend what the soul is, what its intercourse
) with the body, and what its state in the body and after the
I. life of the body. But the way is steep. I would wish that
my companions do not abandon me in the middle of my
course; but if you do abandon me, I yet pray that you show
me favor. And you will show me favor if you have the will
to be persuaded that my end is God's glory and thepUbi1c
gain, and not in the least my own profit or prai~ -
one of Swedenborg'B N otebookB, title A Philosopher's Note Book.
published in E;;glish~he See that work, p. 178.
5
I
Sensation or the Passion of the Body
-
1. That sensations are external and internal. The external /
senses are touch, taste, smell,hearing, and sight; these are
also called the bodily senses. Internal sensation is spoken of
as the perception or apperception of the things that flow in
from the organs of the external senses. Inmost sensation '3
is intellection; for the things which are sen~ted and per
ceived must also be rationally understood. But the inmost
of all, or the principle of sensations, belongs to the soul a~d
is called pure intellection or intelligence; for our ability to
sensate, perceive,· understand, belongs tothe soul alone. Just
as sensations are external and internal, so also are the organs
of sensations. The organ of touch is the external surface of
the whole body; the organ of taste is the tongue; [the organ]
of smell is the membrane of the nostrils and their cavities; the
organ of hearing is the ear, and of sight the eye. The organ
of perception is the cortical cerebrum, or the cortical sub
stance of the cerebrum. The organ of intellection or of in
most sensation is the purest cortex, or that simple cort~x w_hich
is contained in each cortical gland. These organs, both the
internal and the external, are called sensories, the cerebrum
being the common sensory of all the external sensories.
2. That external sensations communicate with internal /
sensations, or t"";;-external sensories with the interior sensories, 2
and with the inmost, by means of fibers. Everyone who is 3
imbued with the first rudiments of anatomy knows that ex
ternal sensations communicate with internal by means of
fibers. For, from every point of the cuticle, there issues a
fiber which runs toward the medulla spinalis or oblongata,
this being the reason why such fibers are called ~ry and
are distinguished from motory fibers; from every point of the
tongue, a fiber of the ninth, eighth, and fifth pair of the head;
from the nostrils, fibers run through the cribriform plate into
6
SENSATION OR THE PASSION OF THE BODY 2-4
the mammillary processes which are affixed to the anterior

surface of the cerebrum like two bottles; from the ear, a fiber
of the seventh pair, both hard and soft; and from the eye
proceeds the great optic nerve. These fibers run on until
they reach their beginnings, that is, the cortical glands. -In
these beginnings or glands resides all internal sensatioii., this
being dependent on their change of state. From this gland
again, are extended simple fibers reaching to a purer cortex,
which we call the simple cortex, whence comes the intellec
tion of the things apperceived and sensated. Thus by means
of fibers there is a continual communication of external and
\ internal sensations. This also is the reason why a sense
, straightway languishes or dies away, as soon as the inter
') mediary nerve is cut, torn away, or obstructed-as is clearly
apparent from the innumerable effects of diseases.
3. That no sensation is possible without a suitable organic
substance. Sight can by no means exist without the eye,
hearing without the ear, taste without the tongue, smell with
out the pituitary membrane. And in like manner as the ex
ternal senses cannot exist without a suitable organic substance,
that is, without organs, so neither can the internal senses. The
organic substance of perception is the cortical gland, and that
of intellection is tlle simple cortex-as pointed out above
[no 2]. It is altogether repugnant to nature that anything
sensitive and intellectual can have existence apart from a
( suitable substance; for ~sat~?s are~erelyJorces and E10~
? fications going forth from the substances acted upon. For
1 this reason, the soul is the onlysentient and intelligent sub
stance in its body.
4. That the sensation is such as the organic substance is;
and the organic substance, such as the sensation. That is
to say, as the hearing is, such is the ear, and as the sight, such
the eye; and also the reverse, namely, as the ear is, such is
the hearing, and as the eye, such the sight. So also in the
other senses. Thus, in the interiorseilSes, as perception and
imagination are, such is the cortical gland, which may be
termed the internal eyelet or eye; and, as the intellection is,
such is the simple cortex; and the reverse. Therefore, every
7
4--6 RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
sensation conforms itself to the state of its sensory; for if

sensation is a sensation of its organ, necessity requires that
itbe according t'() the state of its organ.
5. That exJernal sensatjon is according to the nature of
its communication with the internal sensory. It is not the
organ of external sensation that sensates, but only the soul,
since the soul understands the nature of the sensation. Con
sequently, the organ of the external sense is nothing more
than an instrument receiving the first impulses and contacts,
that is, the forces that come to it. Therefore, when the eye
is closed and the ear at rest, as during sleep, we still seem
to see and hear; and when, in the brain, the faculty of per
ception is lost, the external organs are straightway deprived
of their sensation-though not the reverse. From this cause
it is that our sensations become dull or acute, or obscure, or
distinct. That the sense itself varies according to the changed
state of the brain, is apparent from diseases of the head. For
the fiber is either relaxed, as in sleep, or is tensed and elevated
and rendered distinct for the reception of the sensation, as
in wakefulness; or it is inflamed and heated, or affected in
other ways; and according to the state thus induced on the
fibers, or into which the fibers are reduced, so the sense itself
is at once varied.
6. As the form of the organ is, such is the form of the sen
sation. If the organ be a substance, and the sensation a
modification, and if no sensation be possible without an or
ganic form, it follows that the substantial form, or that of
the sensory, must coincide with the form of the modification
or that of the sensation. Form can be predicated both of
substance and of forces and modifications; for form is con
stituted of essential determinations, and these determinations
cannot be conceived of without an idea of the co-existence or
fluxion of individuals. If these latter are acted upon, there
results a form of modification which must needs be like the
form of the substances which are in determinate fluxion.
Therefore, as the form of the eye is, such is the sight; as the
form of the ear, such the hearing; and also as the form of the
cortical gland, such is the perception and imagination, and
8
so forth. Thus, when the organ is changed, the sense which

results therefrom is changed conformably. But as to the
nature of the form of each organ and of the sensation result
ing therefrom, to inquire into this is too long an undertaking.
The form of the eye and of sight is more perfect than the form
of the ear and hearing; while the form of the cortical gland,
that is, of the internal sight is more perfect than the form
of the eye, that is, of the external sight. Thus perfections
of organic forms increase and are elevated by degrees even
to the soul itself, which is the form of forms of its body, or
the informer of them all. These more perfect forms are also
called superior, prior, simpler, and more internal.
7. That intemal sensation can exist and live without ex
ternal sensation, but not the reverse. When the brain is un
injured, internal sensation, that is to say, perception and in
tellection, or imagination and thought, continue in their vigor,
howsoever the organs of the external senses may labor under
sickness; those who are deaf and blind are still able to reason
and think. But as soon as the common sensory or the brain
labors, the external organs are deprived of their faculty of
sensating. Therefore, the latter depend on the former, but
not the reverse. Hence it follows:
8. That it is the soul alone which sensates, perceives, un
derstands. The soul is the pure intelligence and the life of our
body to which, as to their center, are referred an the things
carried on in the peripheries; but organic substances or sensa
tions are subordinated to it. The first sensation after the soul,
is intellection or rational understanding, which is a mixed
intelligence. Under this comes perception. To this are sub
jected the five powers of sensation enumerated above, namely,
sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch, which are the outer
most sensations and belong to the body; of these, however,
one is nearer to the soul than another. Thus the soul is ap
proached only by.-!!egrees,! or by a ladder, as it were. If any
intermediate sensation is weakened or destroyed, the approach
1 The Latin word for degree a stairway or ladder.
(gTad'U8) means also the steps of
9
8-9 RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
to the soul is in like manner impeded or broken-the soul

meanwhile remaining in its own center and intelligence with
out communication with the body. For example, hearing is
not possible without a certain internal sight almost like that
\ of the eye; nor is this possible without an inmost sight, that
, is, without thought; and this, since it is a mixed intelligence,
is not possible without a pure intelligence. The existence
of a mixed intelligence necessarily requires that there be,
above it, a pure intelligence. The consequence is that there
can be no sensation without th;soo~ which is the ocly sub
stance in the body that sensates since it is the only substance
that purely understands what is sensated.
9. That aU sensation, both external and internal, is passion;
consequently, that the soul, when it sensates, is passive. For
the eye to see, it is necessary that something flow into it that
can be apprehended by the sight, namely, the appearances,
combined colorings and modifications of shade and light which
are set before it. For the ear to hear, it is necessary that
sound impinge upon the tympanum and fenestrae of the ear.
For the tongue to taste, there must be sharp-pointed, saline,
and other particles which shall strike the papillae of the
tongue; and so likewise for the nostrils to smell. Therefore,
every sensation is effected by touches. In the eye and ear,
these are more subtle, being merely the touches of forces and
their forms; but in the tongue and nose, they are compara
tively heavy and gross; and in the skin, cuticles, and mem
branes, the sense whereof is caUed touch proper, they are
heaviest of all. In this way, without touch there exists no
sensation, which latter is produced according to every form
of touch or of tactile objects. Thus sensation is not an action
but a passion. Interior sensation, or first perception, is also
a passion, but more perfect and pure; for the internal sensory
perceives only what comes to it from the external sensories,
and the nature of its perception is according to the nature of
the images and ideas that flow in. So likewise intellection
or inmost sensation, which depends upon perception just as
perception depends upon sensation. In this way, approach
is made to the soul, which alone sensates because it alone
10
understands. Consequently, the soul, when it sensates, is pas

sive; which is the reason why it is delighted with things har
monious, and saddened by things inharmonious.
10. That modifications of the air and ether in the world
correspond to hearing and sight in the animate body; and
that these modifications immediately live, as it were, and be
come sensations as soon as they come in contact with a sensory
organ conformable to themselves. As are the modifications
of the air, such also are those of the ear, that is, melodies,
sounds, harmonies; and, as are the modifications of the ether,
such are the images of sight. Outside the animate body,
modifications are inanimate and dead, but as soon as they
come in contact with that body, they are transformed into
sensations. This is the reason why sensations are generally
called modifications, and why the organs are said to be mod
ified; for at their first approach, contact, or affiatus, these
modifications partake of the life of the soul which sensates
the nature of the modification and what it represents. And
since the organ must be modified in order that it may sensate,
therefore it is passive not active; that is, sensation is a pas
sion and not an action.
11. That ideas of the memory are modifications of like
kind as are images of the sight, but so impressed as to present
themselves before the imagination and thought, like external
appearances before the sight. The memory is the field of
images spread before the _internal sense-and which, being
then living, are called ideas-just as the visible world is spread
before the external sense or the sight; for they present them
selves before the imagination and thought in similar appear
ances. By reason of this, the internal sense also must be said
to be passive; though strictly speaking, it is passive only
when modifications are being insinuated immediately through
the outermost doors or those of the external senses.
12. That by sensations, the soul desires to know what is
going on in the world below her, into which, when forming her
body with its sensory and motory organs, she, as it were,
descends. The soul, which is a spiritual and celestial form,
cannot be rendered participant and skilled in effects and
11
phenomena which are carried on in a world situated so far

and so deeply below herself, except by means of organs which
shall be entirely conformable to the forces of her nature, and
unless there be a ladder, consisting of organs and sensations,
whereby she can descend and ascend from things above to
things below, and the reverse. It is for this end that the or
ganic body has been formed. The ladder itself is distin
guished into such steps or degrees that it can be let down
successively from the one region into the other. By this ar
rangement nothing whatever can happen in which the soul
does not share. Every sensation from the lowest world is
lifted up to her as to a certain heaven, and every action passes
down from her, as from a heaven, to the lowest world. There
fore, not that which enters in is important to her wen-being,
but that which goes out; that is, not sensation, cupidity, de
sires, but actions and effects: By touch, the soul sensates
whatever assails [the body] in a general way; by taste, what
ever is floating in waters and liquids; by smell, whatever is
floating in the atmosphere; by hearing, all the modifications
of this same atmosphere; by sight, similar modifications of
the ether apd all the beauty that the earth brings forth; by
the inmost sense, whatever is carried on in the superior world
and in the region of causes and principles; and so forth.
13. That the organs of the external senses are most skill
fully constructed in accordance with every form of the cor
responding forces and modifications. The eye is constructed
in entire accordance with the modification of the ether; the
ear, with the modification of the air; the tongue, with the
figures of angular forms; and so likewise the membrane of
the nostrils. As to whether the cortical gland is fabricated
in accordance with the form of the modifications of a superior
ether, this also can be inferred from divers phenomena. To
take only one or two specific examples. The ear is so fur
nished with tympanum, fenestrae, cylinders, cochlea, malleus,
and other instruments, that it is a most perfect exemplar of
the acoustic art. In like manner, the eye, so that, as the
exemplar of its orbit, it represents an optical organ of such
surpassing excellence that it is framed in accordance with
12
every nature of the influx of the rays of the sun. So also

in the other senses, wherein the inmost arcana of nature lie
concealed and represented. The consequence is that the soul,
which is the formative substance and force of her body, has
deep intuition and cognizance of nature, and, entering into
her, forms instruments which have not the least discrepancy
with the order and form of her fluxion. For the soul is, as it
were, above nature; and hence, in her own little world, is the
science, art, order, and law of the things below her. Where-
fore, in acting from science, art, order, and law, she acts
from herself.
14.2 • • • •
15. That the external organs of sense, such as the ear and
the eye, are instruments of the modifications of the air and
ether,. and that these modifications are principal causes to
which, by the mediation of organs, sensations exactly corre-
spond. As regards the ear, this is an instrument receptive
of the air's modulations, in that it receives and applies to
itself every form and mode of its inflowing forces. So like-
wise the eye in respect to the ether. The ear does not differ
from a musical or acoustical instrument, in that, according
as it receives sounds, so in like manner it sends them forth
and promotes them onward. In the same way, the eye does
not differ from optical instruments, the eye being a kind of
camera obscura which exactly represents on its other side
the images transmitted to it, but without changing them into
other appearances or other colors. But modifications do not
merely pass over to the retina, they also arouse the essential
determinations of the eye's structure to act in like manner,
and this even as regards the least part of the retina; and from
this retina, by means of the optic nerve, the object of the
sight is transferred to the common sensory. In this way sen-
sations are in exact correspondence with modifications. It
is the same with taste and smell; for the external form of the
parts, which is generally either round or pointed, affects the
papiUae of the tongue or of the nostrils, and by their little
• See Introduction, p. vi.
13
touches which are innumerable, the organ is affected, whence

results a corresponding sensation.
16. That the sensory fibers leading to the common sens01'y
are exactly accommodated to the form of the modifications
that approach them and affect them. Thus, by means of
fibers, sensations flow by natural spontaneity from the cir
cumfluent world into the animate world even to the soul. The
question is asked: What is the nature of the form of the mod
ifications of air, and of those of ether? Under the guidance
of experience, it is clear that the forms of a modification can
be no other than the forms of the parts. For a volume is
composed of its parts, and if these parts are modifiable, the
resulting modification in the whole of the volume acted upon
must be the same as in the individual parts, these parts being
so many symbols of the general motion. The form of the
modifications of the ether is spiral or perpetuo-circular, and
the form of the modifications of the air is simply circular, such
being the external forms of their parts, as can be demonstrated
by an infinitude of proofs.
The question then arises: What is the nature of the form
of the fluxions of fibers? In the Transaction on the Fibre
[nos. 274-75], it was shown that the form of the fluxion of
every compound fiber is spiral, while the form of the fluxion
of many [such] fibers taken together is circular. Thus the
one form exactly corresponds to the modification of the ether,
while the other corresponds to the modification of the air.
The form of the superior ether is vortical, and this corresponds
to the substantial form of a spiral gland. When, therefore,
modifications of auras flow into the little animal world or
system, they continue the flow with a like nature, and make
no change in their essential determinations.
17. That sensations are carried from external organs to
internal organs, as from a heavier atmosphere to a lighter, or
from a lower region to a higher. Light bodies rise from center
to surface where they emerge, while heavy bodies sink to the
center and seek the bottom. So sensations strive upward
from outmost things to inmost, or from the lowest to the high
est, while actions descend from inmost things to outmost, or
14
from the highest to the lowest. Sensations, therefore, can be

compared to light bodies, and actions to heavy. In the body,
the cortical cerebrum occupies the highest and inmost region,
for to pursue the way thither is an upward progress, while to
go from thence to the surface of the body is a downward.
That the cortex of the cerebrum occupies also the lightest
region of the body, can be seen from the very fibers and their
nature. In the neighborhood of the cortex, that is to say, at
their first origin, fibers are supremely fluid and soft, but when
remote from the cortex, they are harder and less active, being
as though more compressed. Therefore, when sensations rise
to a softer fiber, they rise to a purer region, and vice versa.
This, moreover, is the reason why sensory or nervous fibers
are soft-the softness increasing according to the ascent
while motory fibers are somewhat hard.
18. That sensations do not ascend to any special glands
or glandular congeries in the cerebrum, but to the entire cortex,
so that there is no cortical gland in the whole cerebrum that
does not become participant in every sensation and in its least
moment, degree, and difference. The anatomy of the brain
declares this quite plainly, for every single nerve and fiber,
when immersed in the medullary lake of the cerebrum, so
intermingles itself with all its neighbors that distinctions al
most disappear, one plexus communicating continuously with
another. Between the fibers, and between each vessel and its
neighbor, there is a delicate membrane which joins fiber to
fiber and artery to artery, and binds them together. In the
treatise on The Fibre [nos. 170-80], we call these intervening
threads vessels emulous of the fiber, and in these vessels are
woven most highly delicate threads drawn from the pia mater.
Thus it can be seen that, in the cerebrum, cerebellum, and
both medullas, there is nothing wholly discontinuous or dis
connected. A sensation, being a most subtle kind of tremi
8cence of some atmosphere, cannot follow up a single fiber or
some set of fibers to the origin thereof without necessarily
taking its course through all that is continuous with the fibers,
just as in the case of the tremulations and vibrations of hard
bodies. The same conclusion becomes evident from a par
15
ticular examination of each sensory fiber. The optic nerve,

spreading out into the optic thalami, must needs pour itself
forth through the entire circuit of the cerebrum; for fibers
drawn from the whole circuit of the brain, and concentrated
in a firm base, cast themselves upon the optic thalami, and,
if sensations follow their flux, they can terminate only in the
entire surface of the cerebrum. The olfactory nerves, con
tinued from the pituitary membrane, so immerse themselves
in the centrum ovale or medullary sphere of the cerebrum
that they derive their origins from all its parts; for when
inflated, the mammillary processes expand the whole of the
cerebral medulla. The acoustic or auditory nerves, emerg
ing from the annular protuberance, associate themselves with
all the fibers sent out from the cerebrum and cerebellum.
And so also with the other nerves. Therefore, the rationale
of sensations is the same as that of modifications, in that the
latter, commencing in a least center, diffuse themselves round
about into the whole periphery. From this it follows that
there is no part of the cortex that does not share in the sensa
tion that comes to it, and become conscious thereof.
19. That the most distinct sensation, especially visual sen
sation, perception, and intellection, exists in the crown of the
cerebrum. Wherever the cortical substances are most utterly
distinct and most greatly expanded, there sensations must be
more perfect and more distinct; for the reason why it is the
cerebrum that sensates, perceives, and understands, and not
the cerebellum, is because [in the cerebrum] the cortical
glands, being so many little internal sensories, are in a state
to perceive modes distinctly. In the two bosses of the cere
brum, that is to say, in its crown or its supreme lobe, the cortex
is divided with the utmost distinctness; for its mass is distin
guished by an infinitude of chinks and furrows, and by means
of these, the cortex can be expanded and tensed in accordance
with every mode. Thus, where the distinction is more perfect,
the sensation also is more perfect. This is the reason why all
the convolutions and windings of the cortex concentrate there,
[that is, in the supreme lobe], or proceed thither in continuous
flux and connection. It is also observed that in our intuitions,
16
both external and internal, we direct our contemplations to this

prow of the cerebrum, and when this is injured, the faculty of
acutely seeing and perceiving wavers according to the degree
of the injury-as is evident from the several diseases of the
head. Thus, while sensation does indeed belong to each cor
tical gland, yet it is more perfect in one part of the cerebrum
than in another; for in one part it is more individual and par
ticular according to the divisions there existing, while in an
other it is more general and, consequently, more indistinct and
obscure, as is the case in the outermost borders of the cere
brum and in the cerebellum.
20. That no cortica~ g~and in the entire cerebrum is abso
~ute~y ~ike any other; nor, consequent~y, any ~ittle sensory,
the sensories being as many in number as are the cortica~
g~nds; but that among them is a certain variety which yet
is so harmonious that there is not the ~east difference in the
mode of any sensation that is not perceived more perfectly
in one g~and than in another. That cortical glands, which are
so many internal sensories, undergo an infinitude of changes
of state, both essential and accidental, has been sufficiently
demonstrated, and more than sufficiently, in the Transac
tion on those glands. 3 For there are large glands and small;
hard glands and soft; glands consisting of many fibers,
and of fewer; glands whose state is more or less con
stricted or expanded; glands that are associated with many
others or with few. But to enumerate all the differences
would be far too prolix. The cortical glands in the cerebrum
are of one kind, and those in the cerebellum of another; and
of still another are the glands in the medullas oblongata and
spinalis. Moreover, they differ in kind in the cerebrum itself,
in its crown and its borders, on the outside near the pia mater,
and within around the ventricles. All the internal cortical
glands are beginnings of fibers, and are internal sensories
and motories. To the end that the cerebrum may be open to
all sensations, and may sensate every difference [between
• The reference is to volume II tical Gland, and also, and perhaps
of the Economv 0/ the Animal more specifically, to the work on
Kingdom, chap. 2, On the Cor- The Fibre, n. 71 seq.
17
them], there is need of order among its sensories. This order

must be wholly harmonious; that is to say, it must be such
that one gland seizes upon a purer mode, and another a grosser,
and yet together with all the others as a part in a whole,
contributes the token of its own sensation. This is called
harmonious variety, and it is so much a property of nature
that it may rightly be called nature's nature. Such is the
variety in the several fibers, in the several muscles, in the
several parts of the atmosphere; for the lowest atmospheres
are in like manner more compressed than the higher, though
in such way that among all there is an harmonic variety. It
is thus that particulars contribute their share to the general
and public welfare.
21. That the diffused sensations should be conceived of as
winding through the whole cerebrum in a spiral manner, as
it were, or in accordance with the form of the winding of the
convolutions, or of the cortical substances; and purer sensa
tions as winding through the cortical gland in a vortical man
ner, consequently, in accordance with the substantial form
of the sensory organ itself. The fluxion of the convolutions
of the cortical glands in the cerebrum is into the form of a
most perfect spiral. And since sensations touch every point
of the cerebrum, that is, the whole of its fiber and the whole
of its cortex, the circumvolution and whirling of sensations
must be conceived of as being in a like form; for then their
fluxion and their propagation from the part to the whole be
comes easy. The same is the case with the modification in
each individual cortical gland, whose form is perpetuo-spiral
or vortical. The flux ion and determination of every active
force impressed on an organic substance is in most exact ac
cordance with the form of that substance, for to flow other
wise would be to flow against the stream and current of the
nature of the substance, that is to say, against its polar rota
tion. By a like form does sensation gyrate when coursing
through its fiber, and, therefore, by a like form when it emerges
therefrom. Moreover, the form of the fluxion and that of
the atmosphere or of its modifications is the same. Thus
the macrocosm and microcosm mutually correspond to each
18
other, and they produce similar modes in the one case as

in the other. Moreover, in the external organs, a whirling
of this kind is plainly evident when the mind is intoxicated,
or the cerebrum affected by some like disease or by delirium.
From the above it is clear, by what winding and by what
gyration inmost sensation is effected, that is to say, intellec
tion whose form of fluxion is celestial; and so on.
22. That we perceive the harmonies and disharmonies of
sensation, of ourselves and naturally. That the soul naturally
apprehends and is conscious of every harmonic and disharmonic
that occurs in any of the senses, is clear from the phenomena
of each sense. Harmony of touch on the outer skin tickles
and arouses laughter. Harmony of taste and smell is so
soothing and complaisant to the organs thereof that it creates
enjoyment, sweet pleasure and appetite. Harmony of hear
ing is so pleasing to the ear that it at once gives favor to
the spoken words. So likewise with the harmony of sight
from which come beauty, comeliness and delights. Dishar
monies, on the other hand, produce the opposite effect; for
they sadden the animus and mind, and introduce a sort of
horror, nay, and actual injury, whence come loathings. More
over, under the rule of nature, a like consensus of truths,
which are so many harmonies, shows itself without the teach
ing of science and art. Hence it follows that, those who
have a more rational mind and who are imbued with some
knowledge, at once apprehend natural truths and give them
their approval. The fact that some men attack truths, is the
result of a vitiated state of mind. That the soul perceives
the harmonies and disharmonies of images and ideas at their
first impact, is manifestly apparent in the case of brute ani
mals. Birds know of themselves how to build their nests in
ingenious fashion, to choose the food that is most suitable
for them, and to be averse to all other foods. The spider
knows how to weave a web that is geometrically perfect. Not
to mention many other phenomena which are the results of
a natural perception of harmonies. Yea, not only are the
organs soothed by all that is harmonious and pleasing, but
they are also restored; while by all that is inharmonious, they
19
are harmed. The reason is because the soul is pure intelli

gence and is the order and truth of her microcosm. Therefore
the knowledge of order and truth is connate with us and is
rarely learned. Otherwise there could be no sensation. For
the existence of sensation demands that the harmonic shall
be mingled with things disharmonic, sensation arising from
their difference in connection and situation. Thus, from the
mingling of truths, fallacies and falsities comes reasoning,
thought, discussion, controversies and opinions, without which
there would be little conversation, no schools of thought, nor
any sciences, and the shelves of our libraries would be empty.
23. That the last of sensation and the first of action are
concurrent in the same inmost sensory organ. The cortical
gland is the last goal where sensations terminate, and the
first starting point whence actions go forth, for both the
sensory and the motory fibers begin and end in these glands.
Sensations penetrate from outmost things to inmost, while
actions run out from inmost things to outmost. The cortical
gland is thus both an internal sensory and an internal motory,
and is both active and passive, as are all the more perfect or
ganic substances; for the ability to be passive and active in
equal degree is the perfection of nature's entities, whence
come elasticity, and forces, and the powers resulting there
from. Superior forms receive every impinging force, and give
back a like force. To make a comparison with the sensories
mentioned above, the sensation in question is a passion to
which a like action corresponds; in other words, that which
sensates, determines into act, that is to say, by action it rep
resents the idea of its perception, action being a representa
tion of the actual idea of the mind. This is the reason why
a perceived idea breaks forth so quickly into an act, as, for
instance, into speech. It would be otherwise if the two were
not concurrent in one and the same organ.
24. That intellection, which is the last of sensations, does
not at once turn into will, which is the first of actions; but
that some thought and judgment intervenes. Thus there are
intermediate operations of the mind connecting the last of
20
the one with the first of the other. 4 To the end that intellec
tion may pass over into will, there is a progressive series or
gyre, that is to say, there is an intervening thought, which
is a further turning of the things perceived and understood,
and a calling forth of like things from the storehouse of the
memory. The act of judging, that is, judgment, on the other
hand, is a reduction of the things thought into some rational
form, after casting out such things as in no way contribute
to the matter in hand. Then comes the conclusion, and so
the will is formed. Intellection is the first part of the opera
tions of the intellect, thought is the second part, the act of
judging the third, and the conclusion the fourth; and all these
taken together are designated by the general term intellect.
This gyre, however, is most frequently run through with such
presence of mind and such rapidity, being sometimes run
through in a moment, that it scarcely appears that there are
so many intermediate parts between the first rational per
ception and the beginnings of actions. I doubt not but that
there is a like series of operations in all substances that are
endowed with perfect elasticity, so that a comparison can be
instituted; that is to say, that the elater 5 of nature, when she
suffers a force or impulse, resolves itself into like action, and
restores itself by like intermediate operations, though this
seems to be accomplished in a moment and, as it were, in
stantly. But here is not the place to enlarge further on the
subject.
25. That in our mind there is such a nexus between ra
tional perception or intellection on the one hand, and will or
the beginning of action on the other, that is to say, between
'[Crossed off:] This is the gyre judgment. For the will must be
of the operations of the human formed, to the end that the com
mind; for mere perception does pound action of the body may
not form a will but furnishes the correspond to it; otherwise
occasion and sounds the first sig • Elater, derived from a Greek
nal, enabling the mind to act ra word meaning to drive, driveout,
tionally according to its power, expel, is used by Swedenborgin
that is to say, to put forth like its old English meaning, to denote
ideas from the storehouse of its the property of elasticity or re
memory, and to acquire a form of action.
21
25 RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
passion and action, that as the one is, such also is the other.
In other words, that the mind deprived of perception is de
prived also of will. The mind's perception can be compared
to passion, and its will to action. Consequently, the perfect
mind can be compared to a perfect elater in nature. For the
faculty of an elater is: that the more a body is compressed,
the greater is the elastic force j that the elater is equal to
the compressing force; that the force of an elastic body is
determined by the action of the compressing body; that the
elater, liberated from the compressing force, is at once re
stored to its former state; that a body, possessing perfect
elastic force, suffers no loss of its own force, howsoever com
pressed, but pays back every compressing force--and, indeed,
acts upon the neighboring parts in the same measure that
it is acted upon, so that a like force and a like attack is
diffused into its border, and from there into the neighboring
parts thereof, and so into the whole vicinity; that in a col
lision of elastic bodies, the center of gravity, when moved,
moves with the same speed after the collision as before it,
so that in a collision of elastic bodies, the state of the center
of gravity is preserved; and also many other properties which
can be compared to this organic substance and its rational
operation, and, by means of correspondences, can be made
plain to the comprehension of the intelligent. But to resume:
That the will is such as is the perception or intellection is
evident from the phenomena, that is to say, from the affec
tions of the mind, the animus or the cerebrum. For in chil
dren and adults, the will increases with perception. When
the one is lost, the other also is lost, inasmuch as they come
together in one and the same organ. When the cerebrum is
injured, crammed with heterogeneous matters, and thrown
into disorder, then, according to the degree of the injury, it
is not only sensation that wavers but also action, as seen in
cases of loss of memory, catalepsy, carus,6 and sleep, and in
other cases. The reason is because nothing can be brought
• Carns, an unnatural sleep from ened. See the Author's Fibre
which the patient cannot be wak n. 433.
22
into the will 'save what comes from perception; for the will
is that final clause of the thoughts wherein is the force of
acting harmoniously with the ideas of the thoughts.
26. That the first perception cannot be transferred into
thought, and still less into will, without the presence of some
force which incites and promotes it,. and that, without an
inciting and promoting force, the perception is at once extin
guished, and with the perception the will likewise, the two
going hand in hand. That the first perception is a mere inner
sensation, or is a mere passion, is clearly evident both from a
description of this perception and from reflection. For the
fact, that images of sight pass through the eyes and the fibers
of the nerve thereof to the common sensory or to some internal
sensation, follows as a consequence when the eyes are open;
so also in case of sound and its modulations in the ear, of
taste in the tongue, of smell in the nostrils, and of touch in
the body. But if this perception is to become an inner sensa
tion, and also a rational sensation which is called intellection,
it must pass over into thought, and from this in order into
will; and this cannot be done without some accessory and
stimulating force. As to what these forces are, which are
here added, this I shall now relate.
27. That the first force is harmony and the pleasantness
and sweetness flowing therefrom. This is perceived in the ex
ternal and internal sensory organs at the first impulse of an
object, and it so affects the animus and mind, and so vivifies
the perception, that the latter cannot rest but must continue
into the will. This is clear in itself; for what is beautiful
and lovely at once affects the eye or the internal sight with
a certain latent delight. So likewise with the harmony of
sounds, and also the sweetness of taste and of odor, and the
soothing charms of touch. At these the mind at once feels
a pleasure, and therefore its perception does not rest quiescent
but becomes active and calls forth similar ideas from the
storehouse of the memory. Hence comes thought, and this
is followed by will.
28. That the second force is the love of self-preservation,
that is to say, the love of self. Th1',s enkindles the internal
23
sensations, or arouses the first of perception even to its ulti

mate extreme, that is, even to the beginning of action; and
that without the occasion of such a force, our intellect is de
prived of its life, or languishes away. If we more closely
examine those natural harmonies which are first perceived in
the sensory organs of the body, it will become clear that they
are so many forces for the preservation of one's body; for,
not only do they soothe the senses, but they also restore
whatsoever therein has failed. This can be demonstrated
from innumerable phenomena. Harmonies refresh the ani
mus; the greenness of spring and the variety of colors in the
meadows restore the sight inasmuch as they exhilarate the
animus. So symmetries restore the hearing. On the other
hand, their opposites do harm and bring injury, which is the
reason why their presence brings pain to the body and sad
ness to the animus. From this it follows that within natural
harmonies, as contributing to the preservation of the body,
is some impelling and active force. The love of self is the
beginning of all the loves of the soul, the desires of the mind,
and the cupidities of the body, and from it, as from their
fount, spring all desires of ends. Our different loves are there
force like streams from this fountain, which are brought into
being by our several perceptions; that is to say, they are so
many forces, lives or heats, which vivify the operations of
the mind and arouse it to action. This is the reason why
each individual is efficient in his own loves and desires, and
each lives his own life; and why those who are devoid of such
loves and desires are also stupid in genius and dull, and are
mere stocks, endowed with a cold and sluggish spirit and blood.
29. That from these loves are born desires for some end,
and these desires are active forces within the intellect and
will. There is no intellect or rational perception and con
sequently, no thought and judgment, still less any will, which
goes pari passu with perception, unless there be some end in
view, and a desire therefor. Without this, that is to say,
without an end, the will can never be determined into act.
Therefore, for the existence of will, there must be within it
an end which the mind contemplates. But ends are superior
24
and inferior. The superior belong to the human mind alone

and look, not merely to the preservation of the body and of
self, but to the preservation of that kind of society of which
it is a part, and also to many other ends. Instead of rational
ends, beasts have corporeal ends, the desires whereof are
called cupidities and pleasures, being ends solely for the pres
ervation of themselves, that is, of their own body. And
since these ends do not descend from any rational fount and
from a principle of reason, they prefer the preservation of
self to the preservation of society as a whole. But these mat
ters will be treated of when we come to speak of the animus
and the mind. 7
30. That in the human race there is nothing connate save
the perception of the order and harmonies and truths, in the
7 [The following unnumbered eminent mechanics indeed, if we
chapter is here crossed off by the are to construct nests as birds do.
Author:] Yet, if the mind has not been per
That we must be instructed by verted, there seem to be latent
the external or corporeal senses as within us the seeds of virtues and
to the nature of the inferior world; a natural assent to truths. At the
and unless instructed, we can have same time, there are many things
no idea of that world or of its which can add thereto, in that ideas
parts. During many past ages it are connate with us also. But an
has been a matter of controversy idea is one thing, and the form of
whether ideas are connate with us, the idea and the order and harmony
or whether they are all acquired. of many ideas among each other, is
They who declare for connate another. Ideas must be learned,
ideas, confirm their opinion with but not so their mutual connec
many examples; for brute ani tion and order. Consequently, we
mals have connate love or con must learn concerning the nature
nate ideas. In chicks and other of the interior world by means of
animals, these manifest themselves our senses. Images are so many
from their first hatching out; for parts of the visible world which
perceptions and also actions, the in interior sensation are called
two being mutually correspondent, ideas. These must be taken in by
are at once urgent, and the sev the gates of the senses, and must
eral organs of the body stand by. be fixed in the memory, to the end
Not so in the human race, for we that they may be drawn upon
must be instructed in all those sci whenever the mind comes to the
ences in which brute animals are forming of some analysis.
proficient by nature. We must be
25
forms and substances, the forces and modes, by which the

rational mind is affect-ed, in that they concern the preserva
tion of self. All else, to wit, forms, substances, forces, modes,
and truths must be learned by the ministry of the senses;
hence instruction and the various arts. This is not the case
with brute animals. It was shown above [no 27] that har
monies are connate in us, that is to say, we perceive them
without a teacher; as, for instance, the sweetness of taste and
smell, the consonance of sounds, the beauties and charms
of nature, in a word, the order of things, or the harmony
of modes, forces, substances and forms. Consequently, we
perceive also the truths of things, seeing that these correspond
to order in nature. This, moreover, is the reason why order
is called transcendental truth. We clearly perceive this in
our own intellect, for we seize upon truths without demon
stration as though they were naked. Hence, in some men
the seeds of virtues and of honor are said to lie within, or to
be connate. But form is one thing, and the perfectionS of
form another. Form must needs be acquired scientifically
and experimentally by way of the senses or of instruction,
but not so the harmony and order of the determinations in
the form. The harmony and order are natural inasmuch as
they accord with the very form of our organic substances and
of their sensations and perceptions, and are so caressing that
they soothe and titillate them and affect them gratefully; but
the form resulting therefrom must be acquired-which is the
reason why it has been a matter of dispute among the learned,
as to whether ideas are connate in us, or whether they are
all acquired. This, moreover, is confirmed by reflection on
our own thought, imagination, and speech. For the existence
of thought and speech, there must be present an infinitude
of things which concern merely the order thereof. This order
is so strictly observed and put forward by a child that the
entire peripatetic and Pythagorian School, even in a decennial
of years, would not be able to reduce to rules and scientific
forms what that child expresses of himself in a moment
• This seems to be a lapsus pennae for perception.
26
SENSATION OR THE PASSION OF THE BODY 30--31
and this naturally. Moreover, we smile upon truths as soon

as they are uttered and without any demonstration a poster
iori, in that, within them there is a natural harmony, and
this affects the mind gratefully. In addition to implanted
harmonies, order, and truth, loves also are implanted, all
springing from the love of self. But when they spring from
this fount, they know not whence they flow or what their
nature, save by means of doctrines. Not so in brute ani
mals. With them there is still more that is connate, to wit,
particular ideas, that is to say, forms and modifications, etc.;
for they are born into their sensations, perceptions, and wills,
and these several properties are at hand as soon as they are
excluded from the womb or egg.
31. That the external senses are blunt, gross, and dull, and
consequently, are fallacious, so that, in the case of innumer
able phenomena, they deceive the internal senses themselves,
and these seize upon things that appear to be truths as though
they were so many truths; for those senses do not penetrate
into the causes and beginnings of things. Therefore, knowl
edge derived from the senses is purely animal knowledge and
not rational and truly human. It is indeed a fact that no
other way of knowing and understanding is granted us save
by means of sensations or experience, that is, by the posterior
way which is called the analytic. For first our sensations are
perfected; then our internal perceptions, and finally our in
tellect. Judgment, that is to say, the knowledges of a true
end, does not come till later and in a more adult age. This
being the natural way and the only way that is granted, it
is necessary that we devote ourselves to the observing of ex
periments and natural phenomena, and to the gathering of
them together. Thus the science of optics is indeed utterly
familiar to the organism of the eye, yet it has no perception
of any rules except from a knowledge derived from trained
experience. So with the science of acoustics in respect to
the ear. As regards truths themselves, being the causes and
principles of natural things, nay, and also of moral, although
we may be pleased with them when they present themselves,
yet we have no deeper knowledge of them than we have of the
27
beauty of a flower when seen with its charming mixture of

colors and the symmetry of its parts. Of ourselves, we see
in the flower and rose nothing except beauty, order, and
truth; but as to its form, what color is, what the situation
of the parts, and what their connection, this it is granted us
to search into only by the experience of the senses. For the
soul, which alone understands the things presented to the
senses, is order itself and law and truth. Therefore, all that
accords with her reason, she views with favoring smiles, but
for all else she has only aversion and abhorrence.
That there is an infinitude of things appearing before the
senses and feigning to be what they are not, can be shown
merely by examples; as, for instance, that the sun, stars, and
planets are tiny bodies and not earths as large as ours; that
we remain absolutely motionless, although our terraqueous
world rotates and is carried around the sun-just as in a ship
where we ourselves seem to be at rest, even though, with the
ship under full sail, we may be carried some miles from port
within an hour; that it does not seem possible that the anti
podeans can stand on their feet; that the blood has no circu
lation, the brain no animation, the stomach [no] peristoltic
motion. [It is opposed to the senses] that fibers of the ut
most delicacy are traversed by a fluid with the utmost veloc
ity; that the atmospheres are divided into parts, for they seem
either to be continuous like water or to be non-existent. [It
appears to the senses] that there is an attraction, a vacuum,
a single atmosphere; that a ray of light is an atom; that it
is a substance; that a swiftly moving body is continuous; that
providence, fate, fortune are fortuitous chances; that insanity
is wisdom, falsity truth, propriety and impropriety honor,
vice virtue, license free decision, the pleasures and blandish
ments of the senses the greatest felicity or the summum bon
um; that art seems more ingenious than nature; that philoso
phers possess better common sense; that they are wise who
speak with elegance, are skilled in languages, and besprinkle
their speech with pointed witticisms; or who remain silent;
or, who give out half the meaning on matters that are to be
understood; that we hold in esteem those who are esteemed
28
by other men whom we credit with skin in judgment. An

infinitude of other things presents itself in connection with
the investigation of what is true and false, good and evil,
beautiful and [in] decorous. .When distinctions are concealed,
as not appearing before the senses, and the figure is somewhat
rough and uneven, we think them to be non-existent, even
though they be infinite. So in other matters.
From the above we can conclude that if we put OUT trust
in the senses alone, we are not rational but rather are ani
mals; for, granting fallacious vision and appearances, brute
animals are easily entrapped. Therefore, the more rational
we are, or the more we are men, the more do we cut asunder
the shades and fallacies of the senses, and keenly penetrate
to truths themselves; that is to say, the more do we enter into
the causes and principles of things and put away faith in our
body, that is, withdraw ourselves from the shades of sensa
tions. Therefore, it is not human to be wise merely from the
senses and experience.
32. That the soul concurs with every sensation, percep
tion, and intellection, but so sublimely, universally, and se
cretly that we scarcely know what flows from the soul and
what from the body. Sensations are what inform our mind,
enabling it to be called rational; for without the experience
of the senses, we can understand nothing whatever. Our
ability to understand, that is to say, the power and faculty
of understanding and of reducing particular ideas into their
proper order, is due, not to the body or to the organs of the
external senses, but to the soul. The soul can be compared
to the light which surrounds the eye. Without light, there
is no discerning what is less luminous, and what is shady, or
any difference between objects whence arise species and colors.
Thus it is the soul that pOUTS in a certain light enabling truths
to be seen as truths, while sensations add certain dubious phe
nomena which, as it were, becloud truths. Hence come ideas
and truths mingled with falses, whence arise opinions, hypoth
eses, conjectures, disputes, conversations, and speech. Were
naked truths to shine forth, there would be no reason and reason
ing, for none would fail to admit what was said by another,
29
and to perceive and think the same as that other. The state
would be one of utmost integrity, like that of souls whose
speech is directed solely to the praise and glory of their deity.
Therefore, for the existence of a society of bodies, it is nec
essary that our intelligence be a mingled intelligence, and
not a pure. But of this we shall speak more fully when treat
ing of the pure intellect.
33. The causes, both internal and external, of sensations
are derived universally from the fact that the soul is conscious
of all that is accordant and discordant with herself, and of
all that soothes or benefits her body, and of all that vexes or
injures it; the former gives her pleasure, the latter, displeas
ure; with the former she is gladdened, with the latter she feels
sadness. Thus all the senses flow from the cause of self
preservation, and the interior senses from the love of self.
The truth of the proposition is clear from an examination of
the phenomena of the several senses. Taste comes from the
phenomena that there are particles which are pungent, such
as saline, acid, urinous, and other pointed particles, and par
ticles which are soothing, such as sugary and sweet particles.
The former are injurious, the latter beneficial. From the
mingling of pointed and round particles arises bitterness, a
vinous sweetness and an infinitude of other tastes; hence such
great variety, The like ratio obtains in smell; for the sense
of smell apprehends the same differences, but of more subtle
particles, being those volatile particles that float in the at
mosphere. Hearing is a sense still more sublime; for it is
sensitive only to the harmonies and disharmonies of the mod
ulations of the air. Modulations that are natural and con
cordant are soothing, while those that are discordant, such
as disharmonies, are hurtful. So likewise with sight, the ob
jects of which are the modifications of the ether, being a
superior atmosphere. The latter senses approach more nearly
to the nature of the soul. They recede, as it were, from
things corporeal, and, as means and intermediaries, insinuate
themselves into things spiritual. It is the same with the in
ternal senses, such as perception and intellection; for all that
is accordant with their nature and the order thereof is pleas
30
ing, while that which is discordant is displeasing. And be-

cause natures are not alike, the nature of one man never
being absolutely like that of another; and because, more-
over,' natures which in themselves are perfect, are easily per-
verted by the error and fallacies of the external senses; there-
fore it comes about, that what is pleasing to one is displeas-
ing to another. Universally, however, all the senses flow
from the cause of preserving one's state and one's own order;
for the soul has furnished her body with sensations that she
may be conscious of all that touches her ambit, to the end
that she may be informed with the utmost particularity con-
cerning a change in that state of her body which she studies
to preserve. But the internal senses flow from the love of
self, love being spiritual as is the soul herself. It is from
this cause that man is desirous of praise, glory, an enduring
name, happiness in the body and after the decease of the
body. It is by the love of these that he is led, and therefore
they are pleasing to his mind, that is, are inmostly grateful
and wonderfully soothing to his inmost sense.
34. The more perfect the forms, the more agreeable and
delightful they are to the senses, and the reverse. In taste
and smell, all angular forms are disagreeable and displeas-
ing unless the angles are so arranged as to represent some
more perfect form, and to arouse a sensation which the mind
judges to be suitable for restoring the state of its body, and
to be conformable therewith. This is the reason why saline
and bitter things are frequently pleasant, while sweet and
fragrant things are unpleasant. But more perfect forms, such
as the circular and spherical-these being the next superior
to the angular and consequently, more perfect--are natu-
rally pleasant because they are soothing, as, for instance,
things sweet and sugary. The forms affecting hearing are
chiefly circular, such being the forms of the modifications or
fluxions of the parts of the air. The more nearly these ap-
proach the circular form, the more they are harmonious and
agreeable. They are still more delightful as they approach
the perpetuo-circular or spiral form, which is the form of the
modifications of the ether or of sight; but the more they de-
31
part from these "harmonies, that is, the more they approach
the angular form so as to become, as it were, rough and
pointed, in a word, not round, the more disagreeable they
are to the ear. So "likewise with sight, for the more per
fectly spiral the forms of that sense or of its images are,
both in themselves and among themselves-light and shade
being thereby commingled-the more agreeable they are;
and they are most pleasing when they approach to the form
of the superior or interior sense, that is to say, to the perpetuo
spiral or vortical form. Then come the superior forms,
being the celestial and spiritual, wherein the several parts
are, as it were, perpetual, everything angular being cut away
and removed. Thus each organ has its own form, a form
which looks to the superior form and refers itself to the in
ferior; and in each form there are infinite changes of state,
and hence infinite varieties of sensation.
II
Touch
35. That touch is the ultimate and truly corporeal sense,
the innumerable organic substances whereof are scattered
throughout the whole skin and ambit of the body and, taken
together and as a whole, constitute the organ of touch. Under
the cuticle, within small folds, lie pyramidal molecular papil
lae as though in their beds, protected by epidermis, and in
such great number that they are scattered throughout the
whole cuticular ambit of the body, there not being a single
point which they do not occupy with some part of their sur
face, and which they do not fill UPl as it were, whenever
they apply themselves to the taking in of a sensation. For
they can be contracted and expanded and, consequently, can
withdraw themselves and put themselves forward, and so can
render the whole cuticle sensile together with themselves.
Thus the organ of touch is not a continuous organ but is
made up of an infinitude of organs. Everything continuous
is opposed to nature, for the more distinct nature is, and the
32
TOUCH 35-36
more individual in her products and compounds, the more

perfect she is. For nature lies hidden in her single minimal
parts, and she thrives, as it were, when left to herself, but
not in gathered masses wherein her order, form and har
mony perish.
36. That the perfection of the sensation of touch depends
on the quantity, qua~ity, situation, and connection of these
organs, that is, on the particu~ar form of each, and on the
genera~ form of aU as among themsdves; and, ~ike the per
fection of the cortica~ g~ands, to which these organs of the
body correspond, it depends a~so on a certain variety, so that
no one organ is abso~ute~y ~ike another. The papillae, that
is to say, these organic substances of touch, are very soft and
are adaptable to every tactile force. As soon as anything
hurtful and injurious touches and assails them, they with
draw within themselves, but when they are titillated and
soothed by round particles, they reach out. Hence they are
erected and relaxed in accordance with every quality of the
appulses. As regards their quantity, the more numerous they
are, the more minute are the distinctions and the more subtle
the differences which they distinguish. As regards their
qua~ity, the softer they are, the more adapted they are to
every tactile force and, consequently, the more sensible.
Their perfection, therefore, consists in their faculty of chang
ing their states, and of applying themselves to the forms of
assailing objects. This is the reason why they are assidu
ously moistened with a fine and quasi-medullary humor; and
they themselves are the glands from which are born corporeal
fibers, and which continually imbibe and transmit humor
from the circumfluent air. As regards their situation and
connection, that is, their particu~ar and genera~ form, the
more perfect they are in themselves, the more potent they are
for the producing or receiving of sensation. The bare potency
of the individual organic forms, however, does not produce
the effect, unless all the forms, each having within it the like
potency, conspire to one and the same effect; and that they
may so conspire, situation is required and mutual connec
tion and, consequently, an order among all the forms, and a
33
mutual respect, so that the one shall regard the other as an

associate form of the same sense. In this way the general
form is entirely concurrent with the particular form or the
form of each part. This is the reason why, in the place
where the sense is most· acute, as in the fingers and toes and
near the nails, the papillae lie in a spiral situation, just like
the sulci [of the cerebrum], and are not erect but stretch out
lengthways, that they may the more fittingly give mutual
aid to each other. As regards their variety, to wit, that no
one of them is exactly like another, this is apparent from
the difference of the touches, in that the mind is at once
sensitive to where the touch is, being sensitive in different
ways, to wit, more or less dully or acutely; the hollow of
the palm and sole sensates differently than the back and the
fingers; the tender side than the thorax; the neck than the
head. If the sense is to be utterly perfect, this variety must
be an harmonic variety, so that the variety of the one organic
form corresponds to the variety of the other, or an harmoni
ous communion results from the variety of the several parts
-as in the case of the cortical glands, of which we have al
ready treated [Fibre, n. 241].
37. That the organs of the sense of touch correspond to
their cortical glands in the medullas spinalis and oblongata,
and also to their cortical glands in the outer circumference of
the cerebrum. That the papillae, which are the organic sub
stances of touch, exactly correspond both to the cortical glands
of the medullas spinalis and oblongata and to those of the
cerebrum itself, is very evident from their anatomy when in
timately examined; for these papillae are nerve- or fiber-end
ings, twisted together into organic forms of this kind. That
countless fibers go to the cuticle in infinite number, and are
ramified therein, is especially evident from the bodies of in
fants; and since each fiber takes its origin from its own indi
vidual cortical gland in the meduIra spinalis or the medulla
oblongata, it must needs be that each papilla refers itself to
its own gland as to its parent. Every sensation advances
along the extension of its nerve or fiber, and strives toward
its origin. Consequently, it terminates only in that origin,
34
TOUCH 37-38
that is to say, in its corresponding gland. From there, follow

ing the spinal axis and medulla as a whole, it finally emerges
at the cortical ambit of the cerebrum; for a sense does not go
[merely] to a single gland, but from the single gland it
spreads into all, as was confirmed above [no 18]. The cere
brum is thus made partaker of every sensation, in that it
judges concerning the differences between them.
Moreover, between the papillae of touch and the cortical
glands of the cerebrum, there seems also to intervene a com
munication other and more immediate than the one just men
tioned, which latter is not immediate but mediate. For it
can be demonstrated that these organic papillae are so many
glands imbibing a most subtle humor from the circumfluent
air and ether, and conveying it by their own emissaries all
the way to the cortex of the cerebrum. These emissaries,
which I call vessels emulous of the fiber, or corporeal fibers,
weave the inmost coat of the arteries, and finally terminate
in the cortical glands where is elaborated that highly pure
humor from which comes the animal spirit. In this way,
these papillae, being thus so many glands, corresponding to the
cortical glands of the cerebrum, communicate with the cortical
ambit of the cerebrum, whence arises the sensation of touch.
I would also wish to add that those papillae or glands which
give the sole of the foot an acute sense of touch seem to be
made up of fibers of the cerebrum itself, flowing down along
the length of the medulla spinalis all the way to its extremity,
and then going off into the nerves; so that the sense of touch
in the sole of the foot has a more immediate communication
with the cerebrum than the sense of touch in the other parts
of the body. Hence, in the soles there is a more acute sensa
tion, and a change in their state is at once induced on the
cerebrum. In this way, moreover, the last things in the cor
poreal system are connected with the first.
38. That the soul is most minutely sentient of every change
occurring in the entire body, and runs to encounter both singly
and universally those that bring any injury to her organic forms,
that is, to the body; but that we are not conscious of any other
changes than such as specifically affect the cortex of the cere
35
brum. 9 Whatever assails the fiber recurs to the origin of the

fiber and announces, as it were, the change induced upon itself.
Every sense, when it emerges and is lifted up to its origin,
comes from the heavy into the light. Its origin is the cortical
gland; and whether this gland be a gland of the cerebrum or of
the cerebellum or of the medulla oblongata or spinalis, there is
an image of it in every point of the fiber, just as there is
an image of the heart in every point of the artery. Thus the
gland that has its station in the beginning is present in every
least part of its fiber, and so is conscious of every change
therein. In the entire body there is not a single organic
structure that is not constructed of fiber and vessel, the fiber
being the producer and the formative substance of every ves
sel. Hence it follows that, in the whole corporeal system,
which is formed of fibers alone, there can be nothing mutable
of which the cortical gland or its soul is not rendered con
scious. But the cortical glands of the medullas spinalis and
oblongata, and of the cerebellum, sensate in a different way
than do those of the cerebrum. The former sensate generally
and thus obscurely, but the latter sensates particularly and
distinctly. Hence (in the medullas and the cerebellum] there
is a sensation which does not reach the consciousness of our
intellectual mind. The cortex of the cerebrum must be ap
proached as to its most single parts, to the end that it may
perceive differences. It follows from this that, unless the
cerebrum is affected specifically, we cannot be rendered con
scious of changes. The sense of touch affects the cortex of
the cerebrum immediately and at the same time mediately,
as already pointed out [no 37]; so likewise the sense of taste,
of which we 3hall speak presently. That it is the same with
the sense of smell is apparent from the mammillary process,!
this being attached to the cerebrum itself. Sight goes all the
• [Crossed off:] The whole ani tinuous fiber all the way to its
mal system consists of nothing but origin; for there is no fiber that
fibers which produce vessels and, does not arise from some cortical
together with these, organic forms, gland.
that is, the body. Whatever hap 1 Olfactory tract and bulb.
pens to the fibers flows by a con
36
TASTE 38-39
way to the cerebrum directly by the optic nerve. Since, then,

the soul becomes conscious of all the changes of her body,
and since sensation is a passion to which corresponds a like
action, it necessarily follows that the soul runs to encounter
the several changes in a fitting way; for, as she suffers, so
also does she act. Such is her natural force, that the organism
which she has constructed, together with its order, harmony,
and form, she also preserves and protects; for the source from
which organs exist is also the source from which they subsist;
and the mode in which they exist, is also the mode in which
they subsist. The soul remains perpetually in the state of
formation, and what is formed she regards as to be formed,
and what is to be formed, as already formed.
III
Taste
39. That taste is a superior sense of touch, and discerns
figured parts or angular forms, which are more simple and
which float in some liquid. In the tongue are found papillae
which are almost the same as those between the pores of the
cuticle mentioned above [no 35]; but in the papillae of the
tongue a trinal difference has been observed. They lie con
cealed under the skin of the tongue and beneath a certain
nervous membrane; but when the appetite is aroused and the
mind desires to taste the quality of foods and drinks, they
extend themselves and push out. This is the reason why, in
dead persons, they betake themselves inward and hide. Their
outer sheath is reticular, and pervious, with many openings,
so that the impinging parts, collecting over the tongue, can
at once contact the membranes and extended little tongues
of the papillae with their points and pricks.
Such an effect could not be secured unless the particles to
be discerned by the taste were dissolved and floated in some
liquid. This is the reason why the tongue itself, and also
the neighboring glands of the whole cheek, or of the fauces
and palate, pour on some kind of saliva; for a dry tongue
37
has but a blunt and dull sense almost like that of touch. That
the sense of taste is a superior sense of touch is evident from
the fact that touch cannot be so far perfected as to be able
t<> perceive eflluvia swimming in liquids, and their sharp
little points, still less the relation and contrast of angular
parts as among themselves and as commingled with rounded
surfaces. For there are degrees of angular parts or forms,
that is to say, they are more or less compound or simple.
Those that are compound are also the inferior, posterior and
more imperfect particles of that class, being those that the
touch perceives. But taste perceives those that are simpler,
superior, prior and more perfect. In general, however, it
must be observed that the three senses, touch, taste and smell,
take in only the figures of angular parts or forms, that is
to say, of things inert and heavy, but not their forms and
essential determinations, as do hearing and sight.
40. That the sense of taste i.s intermediate and truly cor
poreal, and its innumerable organic substances are scattered
throughout the entire tongue, and taken together and as a
whole, are what constitute the organ of taste, in like manner
as was asserted and shown above [no 35] in respect to touch.
Though the diversiform papillae are scattered throughout
the whole tongue and its surface, yet, taken together, they
constitute but a single organ because a single sense.
41. That the perfection of the sensation of taste depends
on the quantity of these organs, their quality, situation, and
mutual connection as among themselves, that i.s to say, on
the particular form of each, and the general form of all;
also on a certain variety, which must be called harmonic;
exactly as was noted above [no 36] in respect t<> the sense
of touch. The reason is the same in both cases, for the ob
jects of both senses are figured, hard, and inert corpuscles.
But those which affect taste are the simpler and less com
pound of that class, namely, the class of angular corpuscles.
As regards the variety of the organs of taste, they are of a
threefold composition and nature. The more numerous, softer,
and more perfect lie at the tip of the tongue; then come those
which are at its sides; and lastly, around the root of the
38
TASTE 41-42
tongue, come those that are sparser, coarser, and more im
perfect. Thus there is a difference in respect to an these
organs, and an harmonious variety; for the perfection of
similar organs increases and decreases in the same tongue.
Hence it is tho,t nothing is taken in, the figure whereof this
sense is not able to search into.
42. That the sense of taste, like the sense of to'.J,ch, refers
itself to the cerebrum as its common sensory, both mediately
and immediately, referring itself immediately by the nerve of
the fifth pair,! a nerve which arises from the medulla of the
cerebrum and is the common nerve of the organs of the senses.
As to whether the sense of taste arises from a nerve of the
ninth pair 2 or from a nerve of the fifth, this is a matter of
dispute, for both nerves approach and enter into the tongue
accompanied by a nerve of the par vagum. But since the
tongue is not only muscular and composed of motory nerves,
but also papillary and sensory; and since the fibers of the
above-mentioned nerves are so marvelously complicated in
the tongue that it is difficult to determine the function of each;
the matter must be searched into on the basis of other indi
cations which can reveal the truth. That the nerve of the
ninth pair is the locutory or speaking nerve, the nerve of the
eighth pair the masticating, and the nerve of the fifth pair
the sensory, has been shown elsewhere [Cerebrum, n. 463, 692].
As further concerns the nerve of the fifth pair, it is a general
nerve, issuing from the annular protuberance, wherein are con
centrated fibers both of the cerebrum and of the cerebellum.
According to Ridley's observation,S this nerve is both soft and
hard and consequently, both sensory and motory, like the
nerve of the seventh pair, being the auditory nerve. More
over, it enters into the several organs of the senses, to wit,
sight, hearing, smell, and taste. It seems thus to perform the
same office in the head as does the intercostal nerve in the
1 The trigeminal nerve, compris a branch.
ing the opthalmic nerve, the max • The glosso pharyngeal.
illary, and the mandibular, of • Ridley, Anat. Cerebri, quoted
which latter the lingual nerve is in the Fibre, n. 18.
39
body,3a the office of the soft nerve being tu consociate the sev
eral senses in its own mode, and that of the hard, to conso
ciate the several actions or muscles. It can be demonstrated
from anatomy that this universal nerve of the senses arises
immediately from the cerebrum, just as the universal nerve
of the natural motions of the body, that is, the intercostal,
as also the par vagus, arises from the cerebellum. Moreover,
it is confirmed by many phenomena that the nerve of the
ninth pair is the speaking nerve, being the nerve of the muscles
by whose aid the tongue speaks. Thus, in that the nerve of
the fifth pair is a continuation of the medulla of the cerebrum,
that is to say, arises from its cortex, it follows that aU the
differences of contact in the tongue can be perceived by the
cerebrum. This would not be the case were there no im
mediate communication with the cerebrum.
IV
Smell
43. That the sense of smell is a still higher sense of touch,
and discerns more simple figured parts or external angular
forms such as are carried around and float in the aerial at
mosphere. The organs of the sense of smell are scattered
throughout the whole pituitary or mucous membrane. This
membrane not only lines the cavities of the nostrils but
also invests the walls of the sinuses and their numerous
cells; for, in addition to the cavities of the nostrils, there
are also frontal sinuses carved out between the tables of
the frontal bone, the antra Highmori 4 in the superior maxil
lary, and the cells of the cuneiform bone.:> Furthermore,
there are many little caverns and spongy and labyrinthine
clefts, all communicating with the nostrils and overlaid
with a common membrane and periosteum. Through this
membrane, within a small yet most ample space, creep
la The MS. has brain-clearly 'The two maxillary sinuses.
a Blip. • The sphenoidal air cells.
40
SMELL 43
myriads of little vessels, and in it are implanted glandulous

and rounded corpuscles in great number. There are six cavi
ties of the sinuses 6 and four cells of the spongy bones,7 all of
which are intercommunicant and are adorned and crowded with
similar organs or glands. The whole of this expanse takes its
origin from the olfactory nerves. These nerves, called also the
mammillary processes affixed to the anterior part of the cere
brum, are attenuated in the neighborhood of the ethmoid crest,
and are transmitted [to the nostrils] through a plate pierced
by many foramina which is called the cribriform or sievelike
plate. Both meninges, the pia and dura, accompany these
fibers in their outward passage, together with some arterial
and venous vessels. From the description of the expansion
and connection of this organ, it becomes clear that it takes
in a sensation still more subtle than taste, being a sensation
of more simple parts; for things that float in the air are
lighter and more volatile than those that float in waters and
liquids and affect the taste. That taste may distinguish the
configuration of parts, it is necessary that compounds be dis
solved; but that smell may perceive them, there is no need
of their being dissolved, for what are sensated are effluvia
exhaling from bodies of both the animal and vegetable king
dom, and also from minerals. Consequently, the things taken
in are not things firmly fixed in bodies, but things which sepa
rate from the bodies spontaneously and fly around in the air.
The effluvia of the animal kingdom are so abundant that dogs
track and discover their master and men track and discover
animals of various kinds, by their odor alone. The effluvia
of the vegetable kingdom are still more abundant and sensi
ble, as, for instance, the aromas from gardens and fiel~s.
From the animal kingdom, there are many odorless effluvia,
but there is also a great abundance which unmistakably
arouses the sense of smell. Smell, therefore, seems to dis
tinguish more simple parts than does taste; nevertheless, these
parts are angular forms, in themselves heavy, inert, hard, fig
ured, and truly corporeal and material.
• The frontal, maxillary a.nd T The ethmoidal cells.
sphenoida.l, each in pairs.
41
44. That the senses of touch, taste, and smell perceive

only the external forms of particles, and not their internal
forms, as do the senses of hearing and sight. It is the ex
ternal form of particles, that is, their figure, this being angu
lar, sharp, flat or round, that is sensated by the organs of
touch, taste, and smell, and not their quality, that is, their
internal form; for the particles affect the papillae superfi
cially and, being inert and hard, they cannot be searched
out by those organs as to their internal structure. This is
the reason why we judge concerning them merely from their
taste and odor, and do not distinguish between them as to
whether they are serviceable or not. Thus arsenics a~d
poisons may be deceptive by their saccharine sweetness; their
internal quality must be investigated solely Oll1ne~ basis of
their effect. Hence we have chemistry and the practice of
medicine. It is different in the case of hearing and sight,
it being the internal forms and not the external that are ap
prehended by these senses; for these internal forms are the
modifications and fluxions which affect the organ according
to their essential determinations. V\Therefore, the rationale
of the senses of hearing and sight is entirely different from
that of smell, taste, and touch.
45. That the sense of smell affects the whole cerebrum,
affecting all its medullary substance immediately, and its
cortical substance mediately,. and that the cerebrum, whose
form is harmonic, is averse to all that is contrary to harmony,
and has relish for what is conformable thereto. The sense of
smell insinuates itself immediatdy into the whole medullary
substance of the cerebrum and is diffused throughout that
substance; for, as soon as the fiber of its sensory organ pene
trates the cribriform plate, it diffuses into the mammillary
process. These processes have their origin near the corpora
striata, and they draw upon roots which are scattered through
out the whole medulla; for, when inflated in calves, whose
mammillary processes are hollow, they expand the whole
medullary substance into a tumor. 8 In human brains, their
8 See Wil1is, Cerebri Anatome (London, 1664), chap. 1, p. 8.
42
SMELL 45-47
roots do not seem to be so widely scattered as in the brains
of irrational animals, and this to the end that odors may
not disturb the reasonings and judgments of the human mind
and induce upon it so many mutations. In that· the sense
of smell is scattered throughout the whole cerebrum, it fol
lows that the mind is averse to every effect that injures the
harmony of its parts and substances, and feels it as inimical
and offensive, while feeling every other effect as agreeable.
The form of the cerebrum is the most perfect, being the spiral
form. Into this form flow its cortical substances and, conse
quently, the fibers arising therefrom. That, therefore, which
is inharmonious must be disagreeable, whether it comes sim
ultaneously or successively; for that which in itself is har
monious does not tolerate what is inharmonious since it at
once feels that it is repugnant to itself and to the order of its
individual parts. Thus, smell seems to affect only the gen
eral form of the cerebrum and not the particular form of
each gland.
46. That the cerebrum or common sensory is not affected
by the sense of smell, except when its fibers are in their state
of diastole or expansion. The whole medullary cerebrum or
each single fiber expands when the lungs expand, that is, when
air is inhaled; for the motions of the cerebrum and of the
lungs are synchronous. In every general expansion of the
cerebrum, its fibers, from being in a somewhat compressed
situation, are all restored to their natural situation, that is, to
a situation that is harmonic. Hence it is only then that it is
passive to smell, as may be observed in ourselves when draw
ing breath, not to mention other phenomena. The sense of
smell returns when, after sneezing, the meduUary cerebrum
is restored to its natural state in respect to its fibers; that is
to say, when nothing oppresses the fibers and glands, prevent
ing them and their glands from maintaining their distinctions.
47. That the like observations must be made in regard to
the sense of smell as have been made in respect to touch and
taste, to wit, That the organic substances of the sense of smell
are innumerable and are scattered throughout the whole of
the pituitary membrane; and that, taken together and in the
43
mass, they constitute the organ of smell; also, That the per
fection of the sensation of smell depends on the quantity,
quality, situation, and mutual interconnection of those or
gans or glands, that is, on the particular form of each, and
on the general form of all, and also on a certain variety which
is to be called harmonic variety. The reason is, because the
objects of the sense of smell are like those which are the ob
jects of taste and touch,8a in that they are figured, inert, saline,
sulphurous, urinous, oily, and aromatic, to wit, all the objects
of the mineral kingdom and of an angular and terrestrial
form. The more closely these terrestrial objects approach
to the circular form, the more agreeable is the resultant
sensation.
48. That the soul also sensates the still purer corpuscles
and forms of simple elements swimming in a superior ether;
and that it so disposes its organism that suitable things, from
which the animal spirit and the purer blood are prepared,
may be attracted and drawn in through most subtle pores all
the way to the cortex; but that we are not made conscious
of these forms and of their variety by any sense.
That the sense of smell can be marvelously perfected and
exalted, is apparent from animals who with their smelling
and keenness of scent search out and sensate the friendly
effluvia of their master [and of friendly animals], and the
inimica' effluvia of other animals, and this frequently at a
great distance. By smell, we human beings take in only the
forms that float in the air; but the beasts alluded to take
in also those that float in the ether. There is a whole ocean
of such forms, as is clear from phosphorescent and countless
other phenomena. The atmospheres are so abundantly filled
with exhalations that there is never any deficiency to prevent
our blood, the red and white, and the animal spirit, from
being at once endowed with such things as shall enter into
its composition. Moreover, in the skin are pores of the ut
most fineness, and these now open up and now close, now
avidly seize upon and imbibe the stream of such exhala
.. The MS. h88 smeU.
44
HEARING 48-49
tions, and now spew it out and vomit it. That is to say,
there are moments when our skin stands wide open, and
moments when it is constricted, it being because of this that
various diseases have both their origin and their cure. This
property of the pores is called instinct and does not reach the
consciousness of our mind, for these effluvia are too subtle to be
able to affect the papillae or organs of sense. Therefore the
soul has reserved this office for herself; nor does she wish by
any sensation to reveal it to a mind which, perchance, might
wish to share also the administration of this economy under the
leadership of the will; in which case the whole animal chem
istry would easily be overthrown and come to ruin. Among
the senses, this sense is the most acute and the purest of all
the senses of touch.
v
Hearing
49. That the ear is the organ of hearing, exactly con
structed for receiving the modifications of the air. From the
fabrication of the ear, we can be instructed with great exact
ness concerning the nature of the modifications of the air,
and from the nature of the modifications of the air, concern
ing the fabrication of the ear, the modified air being the prin
ciple, and the ear the instrumental. Thus the one is so
formed for the other that there is nothing in the one, not
even the least thing, that does not stand forth inscribed in
the other; but to explore from the one the nature of the other,
requires perceptive genius adorned with the sciences. The
auricle-that is, the external ear with its pinna or lobe, its
helix and antihelix, its tragus and antitragus, its scapha and
concha,9 its coverings, cartilages, follicles or glands, and its
muscles-which is stretched forward exactly in accordance
• The helix is the outer semicir posite part is the antitragus.
cular ridge of the ear, the anti The scapha is the hollow between
helix being the inner ridge with the helix and antihelix, and the
its two upper crura. The tragus concha, the hollow interior to
is the small triangular part that the antihelix.
overhangs the ear hole; the op
45
with the first impulse of sound or melodies, is intorted spirally,

to the end that not the least ray may escape being drawn
into the auditory canal in the most fitting way. This canal,
with its tortuous course, its bony and cartilaginous substance,
its lining, its wax glands, its reticular body, and its hairs, is
perfectly adapted to conduct the approaching and concen
trated sound to the membrane of the tympanum and, at the
same time, to guard this membrane against the intrusion of
anything injurious. The membrane of the tympanum-con
cave, elliptical in shape, and oblique in situation~is woven
of three membranes, the outer of which is continued from
the auditory canal, and the inner from the vestibule. Even
when perforated, it applies the sound received entirely to
itself, either flattening itself and its cavity, or relaxing. The
little bones observed in the cavity of the tympanum, namely,
the malleus, the incus, and the stapes, with their manubria,
connections, hinges, muscles, and cords, clearly indicate that
the slightest touches or forces coming from the outer mem
brane are propagated to an inner membrane called the fenes
tra, so that there are as many least appulses as there are dis
tinct sounds. Inmostly, that is, in the labyrinth and its vesti
bule, we find three semicircular canals with their sonorous
membranes; also the marvelously constructed cochlea with
its spiral lamina, its nucleus, nervules, periostea, and an in
finitude of other things worthy of mention; and, in addition,
the two fenestrae and the Fallopian aqueduct. All these
plainly indicate that the organism of the ear corresponds in
every way to the form of the fluxion of the individual parts
of the air. Indeed, so many marvels are displayed in this
single cavity ensculptured in the petrous bone, that it brings
amazement to the most intelligent of human minds. Acous
tic instruments made by art are the more perfect, the more
closely they approximate the patterns of this natural science.
50. That the single modes or rays of sound contain within
them their own force, and that the difference of the forces
produces differences of sound, for the distinct reception and
transmission of which the ear has been formed; consequently,
that hearing also is the sensation of a touch. From innu
46
HEARING 50-51
merable proofs, as also from the whole apparatus of the organ

of hearing or the ear, it is conspicuously evident that the mod
ified air acts by means of forces; that is to say, there are as
many forces or diminutive impulses and touches as there
are sounds. In the ear this is evident from its membranes
and fenestrae, from the malleus attached to the membrane,
and the bosom and pit wherein it lies concealed; also from
the incus and stapes and their articulations. These openly
proclaim that there are as many appulses as there are differ
ences of sound. Moreover, the same truth is confirmed by
countless other phenomena of sound; to wit, that sound when
increased exerts so great a force on things which come in its
way that it moves them from their place with violence, and
in the case of glass shatters it. I have learned from experi
ence that, from the mere detonation and sudden sound of
exploding gunpowder in a ship, the same was wrecked and
on fire; and also that, from the sound of gunpowder set off
in a tower or magazine, roofs have been lifted off houses,
tables overturned, windows broken, and a human body forced
from its place as though by a mighty force. And there are
many other phenomena which clearly indicate that within
every sound there is a force, greater or less according to the
degree of intensity of the sound; and, consequently, that a
difference in forces produces differences of sound. In addi
tion to these phenomena, there are also innumerable others
which prove the impulsive force of sounds.
51. That the differences of forces, impulses or touches con
stitute among themselves a harmony, called the form of the
modifications, from which form results the form of the sen
sations, being the sensation itself, of which nothing can be
predicated until its differences have been compared together
analogically. This is apparent in musical harmonies, which
can be compared with numbers and ratios and the analogies
resulting therefrom. The quality of a sound cannot be told
unless there is some accompanying sound, it being from its
relation to other sounds, and from comparison with them,
that it becomes something. When sonorous rays or modes,
differing in their forces, are compounded with others, there
47
is at once harmony or disharmony, and thus something, the

sound having its quality relatively; hence arises musical har
mony. This is the reason why it is an attribute of nature
to be varied; and her perfection, that the variety is harmonic.
52. That from sounds and their differences compared as
among themselves, arises harmony or disharmony, which is
the form of the modifications that is represented in the organ
of hearing as grateful or ungrateful.
53. But that harmony or disharmony is something rela
tive to the organism of the ear and its communication with
that of the cerebrum, and to the harmonious variety of the
sensible parts of the cerebrum among themselves or in gen
eral. It is also relative to the form of the cortical gland;
that is to say, it is such as the animus is, and also, princi
pally, such as the mind is, from whose state judgment is
made concerning the harmony of sensations in general, and of
the hearing in particular. This is the reason why the same
harmony is not equally agreeable to all men, and what is
agreeable to one is disagreeable to another. That, never
theless, there is a harmony which is more or less perfect natu
rally,. but that the states above mentioned are the cause why
the most perfect or truly natural harmonies are perceived as
disharmonies .1
54. That the sense of hearing is more excellent and per
fect than the other senses, namely, touch, taste, and smell, in
that hearing sensates the very forms or essential determina
tions of objects, while touch, taste, and smell sensate only
their external forms, that is, their figures and indeed, the
figures of parts more or less hard. Thus hearing is able to
penetrate to the inmost essence or harmony of a compound
sound; not so the inferior senses, which apprehend only ex
ternal quality but not internal.
55. That hearing is indeed an external and corporeal sense,
but that mainly it contributes to the formation of the human
intellect. For each word, being a compound sound variously
1 In the MS. nos. 53-67 inclusive they were to be printed in italics.
are underscored, indicating that
48
HEARING 55-57
articulated, signifies some idea of the mind, and these ideas
are connected together in such a way that a rational form
results therefrom, being a form which can result only from
material forms mutually compounded and connected together
in a rational and analytical manner. Moreover, the more the
ideas are intellectual, the greater must be the number of
the ideas to be analytically compounded, from the ultimate
results and products of which, the mind makes its induction
and conclusion as to what lies inmostly within them. Thus,
and in no other way, approach is made to the pure intelli
gence of the soul, which then receives none but the inmost
sense of the words and, finally indeed, a sense so inmostly
concealed that it can never be expressed by any phrase save
the most occult, or by any ambiguity of words. Then comes
spiritual or angelic speech, or a universal philosophy, and
only the perception of truths and a most perfect and divine
harmony of those truths among themselves. Such is the
speech proper to the soul.
56. That hearing, regarded in itself, is an inferior sense
of sight; for the forms represented by means of articulate
sounds or words pass over into images like those of the sight,
so that, before things heard are changed into rational and
intellectual ideas, we contemplate them as if they were seen,
though the two are so accordant that a certain affinity be
tween them is manifestly apparent. But that between them
is a difference merely of perfection such as exists between the
modification of air and the modification of ether, that is,
between the air and the ether, these two being accordant in
general but different in particular, or between the superior
entities of nature and the inferior, the prior and the posterior,
the simpler and the compound, the more perfect and the more
imperfect; or between principles and causes, or causes and
effects.
57. That hearing and its form of words, does not pass over
into a superior sight by mode of analogy; or, that the form
of hearing does not naturally arouse a like form or harmony
of sight, that is, an image and idea; but that the mind, being
instructed as to what words signify, concurs and thus, from
49
practice and at the same time from its own intelligence, un
derstands the words and their forms connected together in
speech, that is, elicits from them a certain rational meaning.
Thus sound never arouses in the mind anything rational;
but the forms of words, being so many ideas of the mind,
give a handle to the intellect, enabling it to deduce some
thing rational therefrom. That sounds themselves are not
able to produce in the mind anything intellectual, is apparent
from words, these being wholly different in one language from
what they are in another.
58. For the rest, that animals, not being endowed with in
tellect or a rational mind, can never produce any rational dis
course; for as the soul is, such is the mind, and as the mind,
such the discourse. Speech, therefore, is a manifest sign that
we enjoy a soul more intelligent, superior, and more perfect
than the soul of brutes.
59. That the speech of brutes is merely corporeal and ma
terial, expressing in general the affections of their animus,
which has much affinity with their interior sensation; and
that such speech, which is to be called natural and general,
is also interspersed in our own speech, in that we have many
words which by mere variation and by the very nature of their
sound express quite naturally some affection of the animus. 2
60. That the ear, which is an organ receptive of sound, ap
plies itself to the reception thereof with the utmost particu
larity. Without such application, the differences of sounds as
among themselves could not be sensated and perceived. Con
sequently, that the ear undergoes and induces upon itself as
many changes of state as there are differences of sound. This
is apparent from the application of its malleus, incus, and
stapes. Wherefore, in every organ there must be at hand a
second force, and one that disposes itself, just as there is
a passive force and a force flowing in. So also in all the
other organs.
• [Crossed off:] That the ear, of the air, applies itself to this re
which is an organ receptive of ception by a force and activity of
sound, that is, of the modification its own.
50
HEARING 61-65
61. That over every sensory organ must be set fibers, both
motory and sensory,. and that sensation cannot be completed
if either is lacking, and if there be not some action correspond
ing to the passion or sensation. Moreover, that the action
of an organ comes from usage and nature, and this without
the knowledge of the intellect. Consequently, that the motory
fibers of an organ seem to have their motion from the cere
bellum, and the sensory fibers from the cerebrum. Thus the
cerebellum and the cerebrum seem to rule in every sensory
organ.
62. That every sound induces a signal change of state on
the cerebrum, and that it moves and vibrates every particle
of its substance, both medullary and cortical, and of its two
meninges,. yea, that sound brings upon the cranium and the
parts and fibers thereof, and indeed, of the whole body, a
certain contremiscence. Consequently, that the whole cor
poreal system is made partaker of the forces of sound.
63. That sound makes the cerebrum, cerebellum, and both
medullas vibrate and tremisce particularly, but their cortex
only generally. Thus, that sound and its harmony can never
induce a change of state on the cortex in particular,. but that
from the general change of the state of its brain, the cortex
observes what such change signifies, and this from usage.
64. That hearing and speech in that they pervade and move
the whole cerebrum and its parts, flow according to the form
of the substances thereof. This is the reason why the cere
brum sensates the harmony of sounds, a harmony which is rec
ognized as being of the same quality as the general form of the
parts, that is, their situation and connection, order and form.
65. That hearing marvelously clarifies and purges the
cerebrum and cerebellum and also the body and its viscera,
and restores them to their order,. nay, that it restores many
things which otherwise would coalesce and collapse. And
that, in its own way, it promotes the animal spirit from the
cerebrum through the sinuses to the jugular veins, and from
the jugular veins to the region of the heart, enabling it to
enter into marriage with the blood. Consequently, that it
contn'butes something to the animal life. For speech and its
SI
sound IS a kind of tremiscence which pervades both liquids

and solids. This is the reason why the ear is ensculptured
in the petrous bone, and why its nerve is transmitted through
that part of the cranium where the sinuses come together,3
and where the spirit makes its transit through the pores of
the cranium. 4
66. That distinctions of sound cannot exist or be distin
guished unless there be some general sound, not distinct and
not articulated, in which and under which the several dis
tinctions can be discerned, not unlike as with sight, this not
being possible in the absence of a general light, in reference
to which are discerned all bodies which are more or less
luminous. This general sound exists by means of the entire
cranium, this being the reason why the ear is enscu[ptured in
the petrous bone which is so full of pores; and also why
musical instruments are the more distinct, perfect, and sono
rous, in the degree that their strings are attached to a more
vibrant hollow body and plate, from which is produced a gen
eral sound. But that, as in the case of light, this general sound
is not noticed in the sound of the particular distinction.
67. That hearing communicates immediately with the cere
brum by means of the soft nerve of the seventh pair. It is
probable that this portion of the nerve arises from the medulla
of the cerebrum, and that the hard portion communicates with
the medulla of the cerebellum, from which it seems to have
its origin. a From this it follows that, for the receiving of
• The auditory or acoustic nerve to the jugular veins through the
runs in the meatus auditorius on jugular foramina, here called
the posterior surface of the pet "pores of the cranium."
rous bone, which it pierces by the • Willis' seventh pair of nerves
auditory foramen. Thus it is in is divided into a "hard portion"
the immediate neighborhood of consisting mainly of motor fibers
the confluence of the petrosal and and now called the facial nerve;
longitudinal sinuses where they and a 50ft or sensory portion, now
pour the sinus blood of the brain called the auditory nerve. Ac
into the jugular vein. cording to modern research, both
• This seems to refer to the pM nerves have their deep origin un
sage of the blood of the sinuses, derneath the floor of the fourth
richly freighted with animal spirit, ventricle. This, however, is not
52
SIGHT 67-68
sound, the ear is governed by the hard nerve, while for the
taking in of sensation, it is governed by the soft nerve, this
being distributed throughout the sensitive membranes of its
vestibule, the cylinders and cochleas. 6
VI
Sight
68. The organ of sight is the eye, ensculptured in its orbit,
globose in shape, and black, brown, gray, catlike or blue in
color. I pass by any mention of the eyelids and eyelashes.
For the purpose of motion, the eye is furnished with six
muscles, called the attolens, deprimens, abductor, adductor,
and superior and inferior oblique. Its bulb is constituted of
tunics, humors, and vessels.
Its coats are many in number, as follows: [1] The albu
ginea, called also the adnata and conjunctiva. This adheres
to the anterior part of the eye, and joins the eye to the orbit.
(2) The cornea, which is pellucid and is divided into lamellae.
(3) The sclerotic, which is hard and opaque. (4) The cho
roid, which in man is black and consists of a twofold layer.
(5) The uvea, being the anterior part of the choroid coat; it
is perforated, colored, visible through the cornea, and convex
in shape. In it are to be noted the iris varying in colors,
and the pupil which is a round opening almost in the middle
of the iris. The posterior surface of the uvea is black. In
addition to the above, there are observed, the sphincter of
the pupil for contraction, the ciliary fibers for dilation, and
the ciliary or annular ligament for moving the vitreous body
decisive as to whether they spring ed by Roman numerals. After
from the cerebrum or the cerebel "Chapter LXVII," the Author
lum; for in the floor of the fourth changed his practice and content
ventricle, fibers from both these ed himself with simple chapter
bodies are intermingled. headings, without numbering the
• From n. 15 up to this point, the chapters, but he sometimes num
paragraphs are written in the MS. bered the paragraphs in a chapter.
in the form of Propositions head
53
and the crystalline lens, and also the arterial and venous
circles, and the black ducts (ductus nigri). [6] Then comes
the retina, which is an extremely thin, whitish and quasi
mucous coat, being the expansion of the optic nerve at its
base. It is the primary part of sight.
The humors are: [1] The aqueous or a~bugineous, wherein
the uvea floats, as it were. This humor fills the two cham
bers of the eye, and is continually renewed. [2] The vitre
ous, probably consisting of most subtle vesicles or cells. It
fills the posterior part of the eye, and is contiguous to the
retinal coat. [3] The crystalline. In shape, this is almost
like a lentil. Being more solid than the other humors, it is
called the crystalline lens. Enclosed in a delicate tunic, it lies
in a fossa of the vitreous humor, being freely suspended, as
it were, just behind the pupil, and movable by its aid. It is
composed of many pellucid lamellae, after the manner of an
onion. The crystalline lens and the vitreous body are en
closed by a vascu~ar arachnoidal coat.
The optic nerve, entering into the eye from the side of the
nose, is what constructs the retina. There are also nerves of
the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth pair.
69. That the eye is an organ fabricated for the reception
of the modifications of the ether, like the ear for the recep
tion of the modifications of the air; thus, that from the fabric
and form of the eye we can be instructed as to the quality and
nature of the modifications of the ether, and vice versa. For
the one corresponds to the other, as an instrumental cause to
its principal. The correspondence seems to be such that, in
order to receive every difference and variety of the influent
modes, to apply them to itself and to transmit them to the
common sensory, the eye could not have been formed other
wise than it is. 7
70. That the sou~ wished to furnish her body with sight,
to the end that she might thereby apprehend the whole vari
ety of that visible world which is stationed below her and the
sphere of her intuition, for without sight she cou~d not come
7 The note to n. 53 applies also to nos. 69-74 inclusive.
54
SIGHT 70-72
to a knowledge of that world; also that thus and not other

wise she might provide for her body and guard it against
every impending danger, this being the universal end of all
sensations; furthermore, that she might perfect her intellect
or rational mind by the posterior way, that is, by way of the
senses, and especially of sight. Besides these ends, there are
also many others which are specific and particular.
71. But that the sense of sight, although the supreme and
most perfect of all the external sensations, is yet so dull that
it contemplates nought but the ultimate effects of nature,
and nought but the external forms or figures of those effects;
and that the things which lie concealed and flee its acumen
are infinite in number. It is but a few that lie exposed,
and this very obscurely and indistinctly, as though they
were continuous. This is the reason why the interiors and
causes of bodies and objects must be searched into by the
experience of many ages, and this with the aid of the sciences
whereby the intellect is sharpened for the deeper beholding
of things. 8
72. That, with the aid of the optical art, that is to say,
of microscopes, we have detected how infinite in number are
the things that lie concealed from our ocular sight. For mi
nute insects of which we have seen scarcely a faint appear
ance, or which we have seen as a tiny dot, have been brought
to view as being furnished with their own nerves, vessels,
blood, heart, brain, medulla, muscles, sense organs and organs
devoted to nutrition and generation; and it has been brought
to view that a globule of the red blood, formerly scarcely
• [Crossed off]: The causes of her sad. Thus, all sensations are
external sensations and of internal, for the sake of the conservation
coincide in the fact that the soul of self, and are from the love of
is made aware of all that is in self. From the contrarieties of
accord with herself, and of aH that each sense, thus compounded and
is in discord; of all that aids or augmented, arises that variety of
injures the body, soothes it or sensations which is so immense.
pricks. The one is pleasing to Forces are as many as the rays
her, the other displeasing; the that impinge on the eye and
one gladdens her, the other makes modify its retina.
ss
visible, contains an infinity of parts; besides many other ex

amples. From all these it can be inferred that even those
parts which are the last things of the sight of the microscope
even these also embrace within themselves an infinitude of
lesser parts and an entire system; so that nature, in her leasts,
still lies concealed, being deeply hidden far within the sphere
of our optical experience. But that we are endowed with a
certain internal sight, or with an imagination, which pene
trates still more deeply into the forms of the things presented
before us; and that the inmost sight penetrates still more
deeply. The same is the case in regard to distances. Thus,
while our hearing extends to a moderate distance, our ocular
sight, as compared with this, extends to an immense distance,
extending even to the sun and stars. Our rational mind by
its sight extends even beyond the stars; and the soul, being
inteIrigence itself and pure sight, is not limited in her knowl
edge save by the created universe; for since there is such
difference between the perfection of hearing and the perfection
of sight, what would not be the difference between sight and
the intuition of the soul when left to herself!
73. It can also be concluded that the sight of minute ani
malcules is much more acute and penetrating than the sight
of large animals, giving them the ability to discern parts which
we can hardly distinguish even with the aid of the microscope.
Consequently, what to our sight are tiny dots, are seen by
them as great masses and globes, on which they walk, in whose
pores they hide as in caverns, from whose tiniest particles
they seek their food, and where they lay their eggs and hatch
their young-all of which seems to be a conclusion deducible
from the natural necessity of their life and nutrition, and at
the same time from the minute diameter of their eyes.
74. Our mind, being unable to judge concerning objects
save by the aid of the eye, judges as to their shape from the
variety of light and shade; as to their size and mass from
distance; as to their form from motion; and as to their har
mony from the delight wherewith the sight and the animus
is affected; and in all these respects, nature by far exceeds art.
From this it follows that a mind which judges from the sight,
S6
SIGHT 74-77
can be very easily deceived, if anything from which it forms

its judgments concerning objects is revealed obscurely; for
the sight is the servant and intermediary messenger of the
rational mind, and informs that mind concerning the visible
world and its variety.
75. There are as many forces and little appulses and
touches as there are luminous rays, though in relation to the
grossest sense of touch they seem to be non-existent, as also
do the modifications of the air; but nothing can be affected
in the absence of touch. The more luminous and intense a
ray is, the stronger it is; and the less luminous, the less does
it possess the power of acting. In shade there is no power
whatever. How great those forces are which are present in
the solar rays is seen from their effect, to wit, from their heat,
and from the fact that they irritate the membranes of the nos
trils into sneezing; also from the repercussion of visual rays
from objects and appearances into the eye; from the phenom
ena of refraction, and from an infinitude of other phenomena.
76. That the images which produce the sight of the eye
are merely variations of light and shade, or of forces, stronger
and weaker, variously commingled. Hence arises an image,
that is, a visual appearance and object. Colors themselves are
nothing but variegations of light and shade, or rather of white
and black ilIumined by luminous rays.9 The analogy of light
and shade, or of white and black illumined by rays, consequent
ly, their external form and harmony, is what produces colored
appearances. The greater the ratio of white over black, the
yellower the color, verging even to red, which partakes equally
of both; but the greater the ratio of black, the greener and
the more cerulean the color; and so forth. The ratio pro
duces the color, and the form and harmony the brightness
and beauty. It is the harmony of the colors among them
selves, however, that gives delight to the sight.
77. That no image can be represented to the eye without
a general light, under which and in which is and appears that
• [Crossed off:] for white is pro- through a body
duced by the trajection of light
57
which is more or less luminous and that which is shady. Thus

in the dark, sight perishes; at dawn it is weak, and at mid
day it is clear.
78. That every scene, object or image induces a change of
state on its sensory; and that the eye of itself adapts itself
to every quality of its object. Thus that there is in the eye
an active or an action which corresponds to the passive or
the sensation. This is apparent from the very structure of
the eye, and from one's own observation when images flow
into the eye. From the structure: in that the pupil is mov
able by the aid of the crystalline humor, so that it actually
moves in accordance with every variety of the object, being
itself furnished with a sphincter, fibers, and ciliary liga
ments, while the crystalline humor is composed of many
layers; in that the uvea swims freely in the aqueous humor,
and this aqueous or albugineous humor is perpetually renewed.
Thus, by means of changes of state, the eye marvelously
adapts itself for the receiving of every object.
79. That the changes of the state of the eye are general,
special, and particular. In general, the position of the eye
changes in accordance with the position of the object, this
being done by means of its six muscles. Moreover, when the
eyelids are lowered, it partly conceals itself, and when they
are lifted, it is entirely open to every influx of the object.
Specifically, there is a change in the situation of the pupil,
and, in particular, in all the least components of the aqueous
and crystalline humors, and also of the vitreous, the latter
being thought to consist of very subtle vesicles and cells;
not to mention the retina itself, which receives all the in
flowing forces in distinct fashion.
80. That visual objects induce a change of state also on
the several fibers of the optic nerve and, moreover, on the
several fibers of the cerebral medulla, and finally on the sev
eral cortical glands. For the same force that is carried to
the vitreous humor and the retina is also communicated to
the fibers extended therefrom even to the ends of those fibers.
But the change of state induced by these forces is slighter
58
SIGHT 80-84
and more subtle than the change induced by sonorous forces,

or those of hearing.
81. That the visual rays push their way, not to any cer
tain cortical glands of the cerebrum, but to the whole cor
tical ambit, that is, universally to all the glands. Thus there
is not a gland of the cerebrum that is not the consort of each
visual ray and conscious of its presence. It is so likewise
with each fiber; for after coalition with its companion, the
optic nerve expands in the larger ventricles of the cerebrum
into two tuberosities, called the thalami of the optic nerves
or the posterior crura of the medulla oblongata. 1 These
thalami communicate with all the substance, both medullary
and cineritious, of the whole cerebrum, for they are incum
bent on its postreme lobes or borders, and are adherent
thereto, while the collected fibers of the upper lobes of the
cerebrum and also of its vertex are concentrated into a fixed
medullary cylinder, called the base of the fornix, and from
there they cast themselves for the most part over the thalami
of the optic nerves. Thus the whole cerebrum, both medul
lary and cortical, is made partaker of the rays of sight.
82. That there is no cortical gland that does not repre
sent a kind of internal eyelet or the likeness of an eye. For
the gland is the last bound of the fibers and, consequently,
the last bound of the modes and rays of both sight and hearing.
83. Visual rays or the images of sight induce a change of
state, both external and internal, on each cortical gland, just
as the sonorous modes of hearing induce a change of state
on the whole cerebrum. For a cortical gland is a cerebrum
in least effigy, and it receives the sensation of sight just
as the whole cerebrum receives the sensation of hearing.
84. That visual rays and their figures and forms, that is
to say, their images, run through the cortical gland and its
surface, and inseminate themselves therein in accordance with
the form thereof, being a most perfect or vortical form; and
that this insinuation and mutation is communicated to all the
1 Contemporary anatomists called and the optic thalami the poste
the corporea striata. the anterior, rior crura. of the medulla oblongata..
59
fibers and vessels which produce the fabric of the gland and,
consequently, to the whole gland.
85. But since the cortical gland more perfectly than the
eye, disposes itself for the receiving of every variety of visual
objects, therefore, from its own power, it induces upon itself
a change, and brings itself into another form harmonious
with the image which comes to it. This change, which is the
action of the mind or soul, corresponding to the sensation of
sight as passion, produces what is called an idea of the im
agination. This is a part of the memory, for it is repro
duced whenever the gland again puts on the same state.
86. In this way images of sight cultivate and produce im
agination, which is an internal sense of sight; not that the
visual image induces this change, for the gland is merely
passive to the appulse of its rays, but that the gland concurs
actively, and this from its inner power. Thus a correspond
ence is acquired, indicating that such and such a change of
state corresponds to such and such an image. From this it
follows, that if the imagination is strong, and if, together
with thought from which the inner active power flows, it
remains fixed on one object, the images of sight then strike
upon the common sensory only in the lightest way, and are
scarcely observed save obscurely, so that the visual image
induces only a superficial change of state, without any essen
tial change.
87. That all words which are heard are also se~n; that
all images which are seen are also perceived and become ideas;
and that all ideas which are perceived are also understood,
whence come rational and intellectual ideas. In this way,
objects of the external senses pass over to objects of the in
ternal senses.
88. That the passage of the rays or modifications of ether
is effected by a spiral form, just as the passage of the modes
of sound is effected by a circular; and that the fluxion of the
medullary fibers and of the nerves is also spiral. Therefore,
when visual rays flow from the surrounding ether through the
eye and its retina into the fibers of the optic nerves, they flow
all the way to the cortical glands by a fluxion of like form,
60
SIGHT 88-90
and this spontaneously, with facile and natural power. But

that in the cortical gland they are elevated into some superior
form, namely, the vortical, being thus elevated when they wind
around its surface and through its structure, this being of a
vortical form.
89. That from its soul, which is present within it and is
order, law, truth, and form itself, the cortical gland sensates
whether a simple or compound image is harmonic. What is
harmonic is agreeable with its form, being the form through
which the image runs; but what is inharmonic is in disagree-
ment, for it constrains and injures and is in the effort to
destroy the situation, connection, order, form, in a word, the
state of the whole gland, both external and internal, whence
arises aversion, horror, undelight-and an empty void which
is cheerless and finally dismal.
90. That in the human race an inner sense with which
brute animals are provided is lacking, namely, the sense of
location, being a sense whereby brute animals know the
quarters of the world, the way by which they are to return
home and regain their meadows and their streams. This they
know even though they go by an entirely new path never
before trodden and smelled. Thus they are like living mag-
nets. This sense arises from the form of their cortical glands,
which is vortical-a form which cannot be built up by a
fluxion of substances without a determination of poles and of
greater and lesser circles, such as is observed in the great
system of the world. The reason why men lack this sense
is their intellect; that is to say, we lack it because we enjoy
a certain superior perception which imparts to the glands an
activity whereby the sensations of sight are rightly appre-
hended. This intellect is not a pure intellect but a mixed.
Consequently, it does not attend to the minute moments of
the objects of sight; and it governs the state of its gland,
not from nature or natural intelligence, but from will. This
sense, therefore, must needs be lacking in men and be present
in brute animals, these not being endowed with an intellect
of this kind.
61
VII
Perception/ Imagination, Memory, and their Ideas.
91. Words which are heard are at once seen, as it were;
for words represent so many forms, quantities, qualities, mo
tions and accidents, and these are common objects of sight.
But things which are seen, are also taken in by an internal
sight, or imagination, that is, they are perceived; and by
man, things perceived by the imagination are also under
stood. Thus, modes of sounds or of hearing pass over into
images of sight, these into ideas of the imagination which are
also called material ideas, and these again into rational ideas,
that is, into so many reasons from which, when analytically
connected, arises understanding. Such is the progression of
sensations from external sensations to internal, and from these
sensations we can gather the differences between them.
92. Imagination, therefore, is an internal sight which cor
responds to the external sight. The eye is merely the organ
and instrument of sight. The true sight resides in the cere
brum, that is, in the common sensory, and when this is in
jured, disturbed or obstructed, the eye no longer sees. More
over, when the eyes are closed or in sleep, the image which
was represented in the daytime is again revived as though it
existed in the eye itself.
93. The parts of the external sight are called images, but
the parts of the internal sight are called ideas, being called
by some, material ideas, inasmuch as they are representations
not unlike the images of sight, save that they are disposed
in a different order and connection. What this difference is,
is made clear by a mere comparison.
94. External sight contemplates only the external shapes
of objects one after the other, such as the wall of a palace, its
roofs, tiles, foundations, rooms, paintings, tapestries, thrones,
and the resident noblemen and their ministers. Internal sight,
on the other hand, contemplates simultaneously all the things
that have been presented to the eye successively and in course
• [Crossed off:] The First Internal [perception].
62
PERCEPTION, IMAGINATION, MEMORY 94-96
of time. In a city, the external sight examines one house

after another, the streets, open spaces, buildings, monuments,
council chamber, and inhabitants; but the internal sight sur
veys simultaneously all that has been presented to the eye
successively and in course of time. The external sight con
templates the whole of the starry heaven, with its sun, con
stellations, planets, moons, meteors, clouds, etc., but succes
sively, one after the other; the imagination embraces them
all simultaneously, beholding the form of the entire heaven
as perceived by the sight. So likewise in all other cases.
Thus the external sight takes in only a part of the things set
before it, taking in one part after the other; but the internal
sight takes in simultaneously all the parts set before the
[external] sight, so that it can run through a palace, a city,
the starry heaven, in an instant, and can contemplate in a
single compound view all that has been presented to the eye
part by part. Thus the compass of the one is infinitely far
removed from that of the other, in that it has the addition
of a kind of infinity, or perpetuity, as it were, as in the case
of a superior form in relation to the next lower form. It
follows from this, that the internal sight, or imagination, is
proximately superior in degree to the external sight, prior,
interior, simpler, and more perfect.
95. That the imagination or internal sight is proximately
superior in degree, and more perfect, than the external sight,
is apparent, moreover, from their organs. The organ of the
external sight is the eye, while the organ of the internal sight
is the cortical gland, especially that of the cerebrum. This
cortical gland is an eye and cerebrum in least effigy, but yet
is an organ of a superior degree; for according to our descrip
tion [Fibre n. 306], its form is vortical and so is of a purer,
more perfect, and simpler nature than the form of the organ
of sight, whose rays and modifications are insinuated through
a spiral form, which is the form next below the vortical.
96. Internal sight or imagination exists in the cortical
glands and indeed, in each single gland, so that each one of
them is a part or component of that sense, that is, of the im
agination. The effect of the harmonious variety of the glands
63
is, that there is no difference in any object that is not per

ceived more distinctly in one gland, and more obscurely in
another, and vice versa. The greater the number of eyes,
the more distinct is the sight; consequently, the greater the
number of cortical glands, the more distinct is the imagina
tion. Moreover, the common cause of all the glands so per
fects the parts that they conspire together for the common end.
97. By the path of the fibers of the optic nerve, the images
of sight are raised up to the whole of the cortical glands of
the cerebrum. Upon reaching these, they run through them
with the utmost swiftness, nay, they run through their entire
fibrous and vascular structure with a contremiscence, as it
were, of the most subtle sort, so that the whole gland is made
conscious of the image and phenomenon of the sight. The
individual gland, which is the organ of the internal sight, that
is, of the imagination, instantly disposes itself in the most per
fect way for the reception of the object, doing this, indeed,
far more perfectly than the eye, that is, the organ of the ex
ternal sight. Thus this gland undergoes a change of state
proximately corresponding to the inflowing image or object,
either contracting or expanding, or reducing itself into a more
perfect form, or contorting into a more imperfect; for every
thing harmonious that enters in, exhilarates this sensory and
expands it, while everything disharmonious that flows in, com
presses and contorts it, exactly as in the case of the fibers and
organs of touch. This change, which the gland undergoes
and to which it disposes itself at the appulse of any visual
image, is called an idea; for it can no longer be called an
image, inasmuch as it partakes of a superior and more perfect
form, and also of intelligence. It is in such wise that a visual
image is converted and passes over into a corresponding idea
of the imagination, or the external and inferior sight into a
sight that is internal and superior.
98. From the above it is clear that there is a natural cor
respondence between the imagination and ocular sight; for
harmony naturally expands the organ, and restores it to its
own most perfect form, while disharmony compresses it and
contorts it into a form more imperfect. This occurs in an
64
infinitude of ways according to every quality of the object, and

according as it partakes of a more perfect or more imperfect
form.
99. An object or image is perceived as soon as it strikes
upon these little sensories, that is, upon the cortical brain.
The first subtle vibration, contremiscence, and change in these
glands produces what is called the sensation of sight, sight
existing, not in the eye, but in the common sensory. When
a modification runs through the gland, producing therein a
most perfect form; and when at the same time it runs through
the simple fibers which are so many intellectual rays of the
soul, there must needs be a sensation of that which touches
the individual fibers and instantaneously runs through them.
But this sight is superficial, and is not yet to be called
perception.
100. As to what sight proper is, what perception, imagi
nation, memory, image, idea, and what the difference between
them, as to this we must be instructed. But at the threshold it
should be observed that they all have their seat of operation
in a single organ or sensory, to wit, in the cortical substance.
101. Sight exists in this little sensory when variations of
the modes or modifications of the ether-which are differen
tiations of shade and light or of black and white, whence come
colors-strike upon the sensory, flash through its surface and
its two substances, the simple cortical and the medullary, that
is, the fibrillar and the vascular, and dispose the sensory for
the reception of the modification. The sensory does not then
run through any other states, but simply remains in a state
conforming with the inflowing mode. Then sight exists, and
its changes in this little sensory or tiny brain are none other
than such as are in conformity with the objects of the sight.
The parts of sight are called images and also objects.
102. Imagination comes when the sensory passes through
divers states, while preserving the first state or that of the
object, this being the common state and the basis, as it were,
of all the rest. Thus, while the other states are being trav
ersed, they refer themselves to this state as to their general,
and are related to it and resemble it; for there can be in
6S
numerable states, both universal and also special and indi

vidual. Under each universal state are an infinitude of singu
lar states, or, in one general state are an infinitude of par
ticular states, these being called its several parts; nor can
it be otherwise than that they contribute their share to some
general form, for they subsist under the general form which
they design to establish.
103. The parts of the imagination are not called images
but ideas; for, taken together, they constitute a form which
nearly approaches a rational form, but is not itself a rational
form. No other things enter the imagination save such as are
similar to each other and harmonious, all these being par
ticular ideas. From these is raised up a compound idea, and
this again is a part, as it were, for the still further compound
ing of the idea.
104. When the imagination is at work, external or ocular
sight ceases, that is, one is withdrawn therefrom; but4 the
object of sight then remains as the basis of other objects;
and, by casting about, those objects are brought up and put
together which have an affinity to sight. For this reason, the
imagination is stronger when the eyes are closed, and in dark
ness, and is weaker in strong light.
105. When the imagination so operates that, by the con
nection of things alike, a desired order is obtained, or seems
to be discovered, and it is recognized that this order is har
monious, we have what is called perception or internal sensa
tion; for that which is seen or grasped by the sense is [then]
perceived. For the existence of perception, many other con
gruous things are required by aid of which the quality of an
object may be learned.
106. Memory is all that which is produced in the imagina
tion, being the actual mutability of state. The sensory de
rives from birth nothing but the ability of changing its states;
but, for the actual putting on of divers states, there is need
of sensations which shall strike the sensory and bring changes
upon it by some force. Each particular change thus acquired
• Reading sed for nam.
66
remains, and its nature is learned from the images impressed.

Consequently, each several change which is potentially in
the sensory is a part of the memory, while each several change
which is actually effected is a part of the imagination. Ideas
of the memory, therefore, are the same as ideas of the im
agination, but they are not reproduced save by actual change.
Hence, in some respects the imagination can be called the
active memory.
t07. The actual changes of state by the flowing in of sen
sations are to be acquired by means of use, training, and
habit. In this way the sensory acquires habit, and learns
daily to undergo many changes of state, and so to enrich its
memory. Once acquired, every change remains under the
name memory, and its presence is manifested whenever the
sensory returns to that same change.
108. From the above, inference can now be made as to
the nature of the imagination and of the memory, as to what
an idea is, as to how sight passes over into imagination, and
so, as to the nature of the commerce between them.
109. Brute animals are born, not only into their natural
memory, but also into their imagination, that is, into the
change of the state of their sensory; for when their mem
branes are perfected, they are at once in their sensations and
their powers of acting.
110. From this it follows that there can be no idea of the
imagination which is not in the memory, and no idea of
the memory which has not been in the sense; hence, that aH
the parts of the imagination are insinuated by the senses alone;
consequently, that the external imagination can exist in the
degree that there is a good memory, and a good memory in
the degree that there is experience of the senses.
111. But, because the order, harmony, and form of similes 5
does not depend on this sensory but on a superior and pure
intellect, it follows that, for imagination something more is
• Swedenborg uses the word simile set before the sight. See Psycho
to designate the state produced in logica n. 40.
the cortical gland by the object
67
required than mere memory. For, rightly to join together

the similes called forth, is the work, not of the memory, but
of the pure intellect or soul, whose natural property it is to
perceive the harmonies and orders of things. Therefore, ac
cording to the nature of the communication between the pure
intellect and the imagination, such is the nature of the im
agination; that is, there can be an imagination of a nature
such as is the nature of the communication between the pure
intellect and the ideas of the memory; but of this we shaIl
speak when treating of thought.
112. This ordering of the parts of the memory comes, not
from the sense, but from the pure intellect and so from the
soul, which is the order, love, truth, law, and pattern of her
system. But we confuse this ordering with ideas, that is, we
confuse the determination and order of the parts with the
parts themselves; and observing the order to be natural or
innate, we think that ideas also are innate.
H3. Mere imagination, such as it is in brute animals, in
somnambulists, and in children whose imagination is not yet
well directed and ordered by the pure intellect, is merely
the comprehending and at the same time the gathering to
gether of aB that has been presented to the senses and cleaves
to the memory.
114. Nevertheless, they appear to be rational and intelli
gent who speak merely from memory, experience, and the
knowledge of other men, without any real connection and in
tuition of the subject of discourse, and without any ordered
arrangement thereof. They counterfeit an intellect before
those who have no knowledge of the nature of the parts of
the subject, or of their existence, or before those who are still
less able to combine ideas into the form of a true imagination.
115. Imagination is more perfect in the degree that one is
able to reproduce the ideas of his memory in greater num
ber, and at the same time to reproduce those that are more or
less similar and harmonious therewith; and who, from these,
can pass on to a field of other ideas, and so can change his
general states into similar but different states, and can call
forth the parts of each state, and dispose the several par
68
ticulars into a fitting form, so that a compound idea comes

forth which is accordant with the order of nature. If the
contrary happens, there is some defect, irregularity, dullness,
arising either from ignorance; or from inability to change
states, or to reproduce ideas and rightly to coordinate and
subordinate them; or from loss of the communication between
the pure intellect and the ideas of the memory; and also from
many other causes.
116. That no speech can result from imagination alone;
for the existence of speech requires intellect and thought, there
being something intellectual, analytical, and philosophical,
yea, spiritual, in all compositions of words.
117. That all imagination comes to an end as soon as the
cortical glands are deprived of the faculty of carrying on
their changes, as, for instance, when they grow cold, as is the
case in certain diseases, in catalepsy, the bite of a tarantula,
St. Vitus's dance, loss of memory. In such case, the fibers
become flaccid, the glands lose their tone, they coalesce with
the neighboring glands and are inspissated with a sluggish
humor.
118. The internal state of the sensory depends on the de
termination, of the simple cortex and its fibers and delicate
vessels; of the enveloping piissima meninx; of the follicle itself,
and also of the humor flowing through it. The external state
of the sensory depends on its connection with its neighbors
by extremely delicate fibrillar threads, and by the arterial
ramification, and in general, by the pia meninx; on the in
sertion of its vessel, and the production of its tiber. Its more
external state, being a state still further removed [from the
internal], depends on the arterial vessels of the brain, on the
quality of the blood, on the fluids outside the vessels, on the
furrows and fissures between the cortical congeries, on the con
nection, complications, and tension of the medullary substance,
on the veins and sinuses, on the dura meninx, and on the form
of the whole cerebrum and its connection with the cerebellum.
119. Memory and imagination are of the utmost diversity
in their qualities, there being as many diversities as there are
heads. There are men who are of a happy memory and im
69
agination, and men who are of a sluggish i with some, objects

cling to the memory with the utmost tenacity, with others they
are quickly dissipated; there are those also who remember
happenings after a long interval of time. Although we cannot
indeed have any thorough knowledge of the causes of all the
varieties, unless we rightly learn the internal states of the cor
tical gland and of the more perfect forms, yet, the reason of all
these varieties can be given and can be confirmed by the
phenomena of experience. But here it is sufficient to have a
general foretaste. From what has been stated above, it is
clear whence the diversities have their origin.
120. When the animal spirit and the purer blood which
runs through the follicle of the gland is crowded with hetero
geneous, prickly, and inapt particles, the imagination is vacil
lating, inebriated, insane; for the gland is then pricked from
within, and stimulated into states other than those which are
induced by sensations. Hence drunkenness or drunken in
sanity. Whether such impulses and touches take place from
within or from without, the gland is nevertheless disturbed
out of its natural state.
121. The inclinations into which we are born, to wit, that
we are born poets, musicians, architects, mechanics, etc., being
inclinations which depend more on the imagination than on
the intellect, also have their origin thence. For there are
men whose little sensories incline more to certain changes of
state than to others, being more facile thereto, and who, under
the guidance of nature, more readily seize upon and repro
duce certain ideas rather than others. This depends on the
actual form of the sensory or gland, and the form, on the sim
ple cortex, and this on the soul from which it springs.
122. Internal sight is of the utmost acuteness, and resides,
as it were, in the vertex of the cerebrum, the cortex there being
most utterly distinct and being furnished with so great an
abundance of fissures around its septum that it can be dis
posed for the taking on of every mode and every state. This
is not the case elsewhere in the cerebrum, and still less in the
cerebellum, wherein sensation is general and consequently, in
distinct; for a universal without the distinct forces of its
70
THE PURE INTELLECT 122-126
singulars is an obscure something of which imagination can-

not be predicated.
VIII
The Pure Intellect
123. (1) The pure intellect must first be treated of before
treating of the mixed intellect, that is, of thought and our
rational mind; for thought is mediate, as it were, between the
pure intellect and the imagination, drawing its essence in a
way from both; and to learn the nature of what is mediate or
mixed, the prior and posterior things, that is to say, the ex-
tremes which enter in from both sides, must be investigated.
124. (2) In each individual cortical gland, there is a sub-
stance analogous to the cortex of the brain, from which simple
fibers arise, just as medullary or compound fibers arise from
the cortical glands; for the cortical gland, which we caB the
internal sensoriole, is a brain in least effigy.
125. (3) This simple cortex or simple cortical substance
is the supremely eminent organ of the pure intellect. It sur-
passes in perfection the organ of the imagination or percep-
tion, that is to say, the cortical gland, as much as the latter
surpasses the brain, or as sight hearing; for its form is a su-
perior form. Indeed, it is the supreme form of nature, being
that celestial form which was described above [Fibre, n. 266J;
and it recognizes no form as superior to itself save the spiritual.
And since this substance is set at the very pinnacle of nature,
it can by no means be designated by words which designate
inferior substances, such words being too crude to be appropri-
ate. Therefore, it cannot be named either cortex or cortical
substance, or analogous and emulous cortical substance, or
organ (save as being an organ of the utmost eminence), or
sensory, since it does not sensate but understands. In the fol-
lowing pages, therefore, I shall call it the intellectory.
126. (4) On this intellectory depends the sensory, or on
the pure intellect depends sensation, no sensation or percep-
tion of sensation being possible unless the nature of what is
perceived is understood by an interior or superior power. The
71
minute differences which are within an idea, and which exist

between the several ideas, cannot be simply sensated and per
ceived. For the recognition of what is harmonious, analytical,
delightful, true, and good, there must be an intellectory which
shall judge and shall declare that the idea is accordant or non
accordant, and is congruous [or not congruous] with a con
sort idea and with many others which are related or similar.
Without a pure intellect, therefore, there would be no thought,
still less any imagination and sensation. The very organism
of the body likewise depends on its intellectory or inmost
sensory. Without a simple cortex, no compound cortex such
as that of the brain is possible, it being from the simple cor
tex that those simple fibers arise which, by their determina
tions, join together to construct the [cortical] gland. With
out cortical glands, there is no brain; without a brain, no.
sensory of sight, of hearing, of taste, of smell, of touch and,
consequently, no body. Therefore, all these look to this in
tellectory, or this pure intellect, as their principal and, at the
same time, their origin, to which their several operations refer
themselves.
127. (5) This intellectory recognizes no other form above
itself save the spiritual form, that is, the s,oul or the form
of the soul. Hence, the pure intellect acknowledges nothing
above itself save pure intelligence, which pertains to the soul,
since the soul is spirit. Therefore, we ought not to confuse
pure intellect with intelligence, or the intellectory with the
soul. The intellectory, whose form is celestial, being the first
form of nature, cannot understand anything from itself but
only from a form which alone understands, and causes that
to understand which is next below itself. Thus it is clear
that our soul is too highly placed to be perceived by our
rational mind. We think that thought is supreme and is a
potency proper to the soul itself. But above our thought,
which never exists except as impure and mixed, is a purer
thought; and above this, is spiritual intelligence itself; while
above this, is a wisdom which is Divine and not human; for
intelligence derives its wisdom from the Divine Spirit alone,
and thus from God.
72
128. (6) This intellectory, therefore, is born from the soul

itself; that is to say, its form is from the essential determina
tions of the latter. But as to the nature of this form, be
ing the first form after the soul, this is not easily expressed
in words, inasmuch as the attributes and powers of that form
are above the sphere of ordinary terms; for the latter ex
press only such things as are in nature and within the gyre of
nature, and not such as are supreme and are next to the spirit
ual essence. This is the reason why the intellectory must be
spoken of in terms that are most universal, and so are but
little intelligible as to what they really mean; and why
what is said must be explained by circumlocutions, and by
ideas several times multiplied. By aid of these, some obscure
notion is acquired-but a notion that is somewhat clear in
minds that are cultivated and are endowed with more pro
found judgment.
129. (7) That such an intellectory or pure intellect does
exist, cannot be doubted, inasmuch as it plainly manifests
itself in the several parts of our thought and speech, being
there proximately at hand and inmostly within. For we in
stantly reduce the ideas of our memory, which are not unlike
visual ideas, into such order, form, and harmony that a ra
tional analysis results therefrom, and this is recognized as to
whether it is true or false by an intellect purer than our
thought. Sensations supply no other objects than such as
are parts of the imagination; but analytically to reduce these
objects into forms, and then to conceive and bring forth new
forms, which in turn are parts of a more sublime thought;
and in these, from their connection and order alone, to be
hold truths, verisimilitudes, and probabilities-this is the func
tion, not of sensations, but of the pure intellect. It is not
even the function of thought, for thought is that which is
reduced into such form, and so is the product resulting from
an intellect which is prior and which produces the intellectual
and rational ideas of thought. Such an intellectual, ana
lytical, philosophical and, indeed, spiritual element, is pres
ent in every sentence and in all speech, even that of a child;
for, in a short space of time, a child speaks philosophically,
73
dialectically, logically, and grammatically, more perfectly

than the whole peripatetic and Pythagorean school speaks
artificially and scientifically. This is the reason why we learn
the philosophical sciences, such as logic and the other theo
retical sciences, from our own selves and from an inner ex
amination of our own thoughts and speech, in the same way
that anatomists acquire a knowledge of the body from an
inspection of its organs. Therefore inmostly within us, there
must be an intellect of such a nature that it prescribes to
the several operations of our mind, rules and laws which are
equally concealed from us, as the form of the brain, heart,
stomach, is concealed from one who has not yet examined
those organs. Philosophical science is, therefore, the anatomy
of a mind, the healing whereof is also its subject of inquiry.
Hence it follows, that without the influx of such an intellect,
there can be no thought and consequently no speech.
130. (8) The operation of this intellectory, that is to say,
the intellect itself, must needs be pure inasmuch as its form
is born of the essential determinations of the soul. These de
terminations are so many spiritual rays or pure intelligences.
A form flowing from purely spiritual rays most perfectly de
termined can breathe nought else than a pure intel1ectual.
As to the nature of the form, this can indeed be perceived,
though not described, by comparing it with the form of the
internal sensory, and the form of the latter with that of the
brain. Analytically, however, it can be investigated by a
simple elevation of perfections from the lower degree to the
higher, and by the addition of something perpetual and in
finite, according to the doctrine of order, degrees_ and forms,
whose laws I set forth above. 6
131. (9) In order, therefore, to express the quality of the
pure intellect, recourse must be had to universal terms, as
stated above [no 128], inasmuch as this intellect is the veri
most nature of its body, and the verimost science of the nat
ural things existing below it. When the pure intellect acts,
• See The Fibre, n. 271, but the V in mind, see A Phil. N. B. MS,
Author probably has Transaction p. 263.
74
it acts from itself, that is to say, from nature herself and sci
ence itself, for all things flow into act in agreement with its
intuition. It does not inform itself beforehand how and when
the action is to come, but knows of itself and in itself the
measures, laws, rules, truths, etc., which are found to be
present-though only imperfectly-in the thought, the imagi
nation, the external sensation, the action, and in the several
organs thereof. In all these there lies concealed something
which is the inmost in the sciences-as, for instance, in first
philosophy, logic, anthropology, dialectics, physiology, physics,
geometry, mathematics, mechanics, optics, acoustics, chem
istry, medicine, jurisprudence, ethics, grammar, and other sci
ences, whatsoever their name-and is most utterly abstract.
The exemplar and complement of these sciences is mani
festly open to our contemplation in the whole of our own
organic system, and in its several members, parts, and opera
tions. These are all unable of themselves either to flow to
gether or to subsist, but do this from some efficient cause
in which such knowledge is present, that is to say, which
is verimost science, order, truth, harmony, and the form
of forms-all these being universal expressions which befit the
pure intellect. Thus, inmostly within ourselves, we possess
a most perfect knowledge of all natural things; but we
anxiously inquire as to how we may be able to learn some
part of the pure intellect's,7 or, inwardly, our own, knowledge,
and draw it forth from a certain obscurity into light. Thus,
this pure intellect can be called the science of natural sci
ences; for the several sciences are parts of a universal science,
which we call the philosophy and mathesis of universals,8 it
being from this that the pure intellect can descend into the
several parts whenever it wills. Thus it appears that it is
not allowed us to speak of this pure intellect otherwise than
abstractly and obscurely.
132. (10) This pure intellect comprehends simultaneously
what thought or our rational mind comprehends successively;
T Scientiae e;us aut penitus nos the pure intellect.
trio Here e;us clea.rly refers to • Confer n. 562 seq.
75
that is to say, just as in the case of a conclusion or an ana

lytical equation, it comprehends premises and antecedents
simultaneously with consequences; principles and causes si
multaneously with principiates, causates, and effects. In the
efficient cause it beholds the whole effect as already existing,
thus, that which is to be formed as already formed, and all
that is formed, as yet to be formed. Nor does it tarry in
the devising of means, for it holds all means in its own em
brace, it being merely a failure in instrumental causes that
delays its action. Moreover, it contemplates all things past
as present and, at the same time, as future, being things
which flow from the connection and according to natural
order. Therefore, moments and degrees cannot be predicated
of the operations of this intellect, as neither can time, space,
place, motion, speed, and other predicates which presuppose
succession and distance. For its form is the first form of
nature, from which, as from their beginning, the accidents
and qualities of nature descend, or under which they have
their origin; for the celestial form, when it commences to
operate, embraces all the forms that follow, and contemplates
them as though existing in itself.
133. (11) The pure intellect does not perceive anything
as plausible or probable, but either as true or as false. It
perceives also how far it is removed from truth or from falsity.
Consequently, all its ideas are so many natural truths, and
from truths it distinctly sees falses and fallacies, just as
from light the eye sees shadows. Its operations, therefore,
consist of so many truths connected together, whence arises
a universal truth. This is the reason why the more intelli
gent, that is, those whose thought or rational analysis more
closely approaches this pure intellect, have an instantaneous
sight and recognition of many propositions as being true or
false, and this without a posteriori demonstration from effects,
experience, artificial logic, and the scholastic sciences. Fre
quently, indeed, this is so much the case that they are in
dignant that the mind should wish to demonstrate things
which in themselves, are clearer, more sure, truer, and higher
than any demonstration. Attempts at such demonstrations
76
they consider as so many twilight shadows which do not en

lighten but rather obscure. Of such sort are we when we be
come pure intelligences or souls, for then we shall ~augh at
literary sports as the sports of infants, and at the whole
syllogistic logic as a child's game of even and odd.
134. (12) The pure intellect, whose property it is to have
knowledge of the whole of nature, and from itself to view
and know all her mysteries, cannot be instructed by the in
ternal senses, still less by the external; for it is the pure
intellect that formed all the senses, both internal and external,
according to every idea of its own nature, and provided them
with recipient organs prior to the use thereof. It follows,
then, that such an intellect, being prior to the senses, can by
no means be acquired, cultivated, and perfected, but must
remain the same from the first thread of life to its last; con
sequently, that it is as perfect in the embryo and infant as
in the adult and the aged, in Davus as in Oedipus,9 in the
insane and stupid as in the prince of philosophers. The in
tellect which is instructed and perfected, is next below this
pure intellect. It is called human reason and also the ra
tional mind, and its operation is thought. The latter is never
pure but mixed, that is, it partakes more of ignorance than
of intelligence. These are among the reasons why dispute has
arisen among the learned as to whether ideas are connate,
or whether they are all acquired, that is, whether anything
exists in the intellect which was not previously in sensation.
Each of these propositions has won defenders. There are
evident indications of some innate intellect, and all ideas
are found to be connate. But the actual disposition and or
dination of ideas to the end that an analysis may result there
from, cannot be connate, for this is a mere intellectual matter.
On the other band, as regards the ideas which are ordinated,
there can be none such, other than connate. Hence it follows
that both positions are true.
• Davus---a clown in Terence's the riddle of the sphinx and thus
Comedy Andrea. Oedipus, son of brought about the death of that
the King of Thebes, who solved monster.
77
135. (13) From the above, it is also clear that the pure
intellect can in no wise express or put forth its ideas or uni
versal truths by any kind of speech, the parts of speech being
so many ideas, images, and forms which must be acquired
by way of the senses, and which stand far below it. But the
pure intellect represents its simple and universal analyses
by simulacra such as are seen in dreams, and also by para
bles and similitudes, yea, by fables like those of the Ancients
in the ages immediately following the Golden; for such rep
resentations not only contain the several things which look
to the one truth, but at the same time all of them in gen
eral. These it behooves our mind to interpret and unfold
as being the responses of oracles, for to our intellect, all such
things are obscure, we being especially blind in regard to
truths. To the pure intellect they are clearer than light.
136. (14) The nature of the pure intellect, however, is
not easily perceived by the thought, and therefore there is
dispute even as to its existence. Thought does not compre
hend that which is above itself, or that which is pure, because
itself is not pure but mixed. It does indeed comprehend that
where there is a mixed, there must be a pure wherewith it
is mixed; or that into our thought, wherein rule both intelli
gence and ignorance or light and shade, there flows in from
above an intellectual something which enlightens the sphere
of the thoughts, and imparts the faculty of thinking, for the
sensations of the body can in no wise effect this; also, that
into that same thought there flows in from below that which
is not intellectual, whence comes the mingling of intelligence
and ignorance, that is, our mixed intellect or thought. The
pure intellect, however, is itself mediate between the spiritual
intelligence of the soul and the thought of our rational mind.
In order, therefore, that the nature of the pure intellect may
be perceived, inquiry must be made into the nature of the
soul, and the nature of the rational mind, and also into the
nature of the influx of the two. These several points have
already been treated of but a brief recapitulation is helpful.
137. (15) The soul is pure intelligence, and a spiritual es
sence and form. Consequently, it is next above the pure
78
intellect whose essence and form is the first ens and form of
nature, that is to say. is celestial. The intellectory can be
formed only out of the essential determinations of the soul,
and, as many as are these determinations, so many are the
rays of spiritual light, for its intelligence is not natural
but spiritual, and its science is not philosophical but meta
physical, pneumatic and, if I may so speak, theological.
From this soul proceeds that which is its first offspring,
namely, the pure intellect, whose property is to know in
the present and from itself and in itself all that which is
natural.
138. Ideas of the soul are spiritual truths, while ideas of
the pure intellect are first natural truths. Ideas of our in
tellect are called rational, while ideas of the memory or im
agination are ideas proper. Ideas of sight are images and
objects. Ideas of hearing are modes, modulations, and words.
Such is the subordination of ideas. Therefore, everything
spiritual which is within speech is of the soul, while every
thing intellectual is of the pure intellect, and everything ra
tional, of the thought, and so forth.
139. (16) But the question is asked, How does the pure
intellect flow into the sphere of thoughts? or, Is it influx or,
is it correspondence and harmony? We learn this more espe
cially from the form of the internal sensory or cortical gland,
for therein is contained the simple cortex, which is called
the intellectory, just as the cortical substance is contained
within the brain. The former-the simple cortex-is the
origin of all the simple fibers, while the latter-the cortical
gland of the brain-is the origin of all the medullary and
nervous fibers of the body. The pure intellect itself, which
resides in the above-mentioned intellectory or simple cortex,
cannot flow into the sphere of thoughts otherwise than as
images of sight or ideas of the imagination flow into the modes
of hearing or into speech. This is not influx but correspond
ence; for the modes of hearing, which are so many articulated
sounds and contremiscences, do no more than move and vi
brate the sensorioles generally. Then, from usage and ex
perience, the sensory at once knows what this contremiscence
79
or superficial change signifies. Consequently, its ideas are

concurrent, and this is said to be effected by correspondence.
So likewise with the intellectory or its pure intellect; for when
the sensory runs through the changes of its state, the intel
lectory, acted upon generally or, if I might so express it, re
duced externally into another situation, from usage and ex
perience instantly understands what such change signifies,
and therefore at once concurs. Thus, this is not influx but
correspondence. But these matters will be dealt with more
adequately later on when treating of thought and the com
merce [of soul and body].
IX
The Human Intellect
INTELLECTION, THOUGHT, REASONING, AND JUDGMENT
140. (1) There is no thought without imagination because
none without ideas of the memory, these being parts of the
imagination as well as of the thought; for, without memory
we cannot think. Thus, it is very difficult to perceive dis
tinctly what imagination is and what thought. That, in them
selves, they are nevertheless distinct, and can be distinguished
is evident in the case of somnambulists, who see with their
eyes open and with some imagination, though mostly per
verse, inasmuch as there is no thought within it; also in the
case of brute animals, which are not lacking in imagination,
though denied thought; and, furthermore, in the case of young
children, almost infants, who, beginning to prattle, speak
things imagined but not thought. Like the latter are many
adults, some of them being gifted with better thought and
fancy than others. But because imagination is present in
thought, and thought in imagination, we think thought to be
a kind of imagination, more perfect and cultivated. Yet, if
this were the case, they could not be separated as in the cases
mentioned above. It is therefore worth while to inquire more
deeply into what the one is, and what the other.
141. (2) Imagination is only a superior and internal sight.
It comes into play when we reproduce single objects in the
80
THE HUMAN INTELLECT 141-142
order in which they were seen, such as a palace and court

with the whole of its structure, internal and external, and
all its furnishings, together with the masters and servants
who inhabit it, without any other connection and order save
that in which they were observed by the sight and hearing.
So likewise when we reproduce the cities, provinces, and king-
doms through which we have wandered. The internal sight,
that is, the imagination sees collectively the things which the
eye has seen successively. So also when we reproduce the
human body and its several viscera and parts, their situa-
tion and connection, and so the whole anatomy. It is the
same in all other cases, as, for instance, in the several prac-
tical sciences, mechanics, experimental physics, astronomy,
yea, and also in the theoretical sciences which we have learned
mnemonically and which we retain. Imagination, therefore,
is the reproduced memory of things seen and heard, and the
simultaneous beholding of them, without any further progres-
sion into those things which have not yet been apprehended
by sensation.
142. (3) Thought, on the other hand, does not rest in the
mere reproduction of ideas of the memory or imagination, or
in the viewing simultaneously of objects which were presented
to the external sight successively. It goes further. For, from
these and other like ideas, run through and represented suc-
cessively, it procures for itself and brings forth a new idea
never before presented to the sight; and this by an analysis
not unlike infinitesimal calculus, that is to say, by the rules
of natural philosophy and by a mode of reduction, transposi-
tion, and equation. The equation itself, which is formed by
the sole help of the mind, is called an idea of thought. Thus,
an idea of the imagination is an idea insinuated through the
gates of the senses; while an idea of thought is one that is
formed from the ideas of the imagination, which are like the
numbers in a calculus, by a force proper to the mind itself.
These ideas of thought, which are called rational, intellectual,
and immaterial, when once formed, even though somewhat
compounded, are yet in their turn regarded as simple ideas,
not much unlike entire equations in algebra, and entire anal-
81
ogies in geometry and arithmetic, assumed as unity. The

mind in turn disposes and distributes these its ideas into a
certain rational order or form, and from them in turn it then
brings forth a new analysis and equation. From this is born
and formed an idea that is still more perfectly rational and
intellectual. In this way, thought is perfected and becomes
more sublime and pure, and ascends nearer to the pure intel
lect; and it ascends the higher, the more numerous the ideas
which, multiplied together, are assumed as simple ideas or
truths, and from which, arranged together analytically, is
elicited a higher idea. Otherwise we cannot be elevated by
means of speech or the use of words or of ideas of the im
agination, to the knowledge of the pure intellectory, since its
truths are more sublime than words, nor do they suffer them
selves to be expressed and laid bare save by verbal forms
elevated and multiplied together.
143. (4) Such, then, is thought, and from the description
thereof, it is clear what the difference is between thought and
imagination; to wit, that ideas of thought are acquired by
the mind itself, while ideas of the imagination are acquired
solely by the external senses; and that thought can be so per
fected and exalted as to approach nearer to the pure intellect,
while imagination is perfected only by the experience of the
senses-both its own experience and that of others. All things
whatsoever that are the symbols of the memory, whether
through one's own senses or through teachers, or through writ
ings, or through pictures, are then ideas of the imagination,
for they belong merely to a memory acquired by means of
the senses. But they are so many parts and instrumental
causes, the use of which the rational mind can enjoy, for the
forming therefrom of its own intellectual ideas and analyses.
From this it follows that we are able to understand, not that
we do understand, just so far as we hold things in the memory,
the potency of understanding being latent in the memory.
But no action follows from potency alone; consequently, there
must be an accession of something else if we are to under
stand, and of much more if we are to be wise.
82
THE HUMAN INTELLECT 144
144. (5) Thought, then, is a superior imagination. And

just as there is a superior imagination, so also is there a su-
perior memory. The inferior memory is the memory of par-
ticulars and of all such ideas as are insinuated by way of
the senses, both sight and hearing. The superior memory,
on the other hand, is the memory of generals and universals,
and of all those ideas which are formed and, as it were, created
by a force belonging to the mind. Moreover, these ideas im-
press themselves on our memory as though they were impressed
on one of the senses; for when we think, the things thought
of and the results of our thoughts remain equally fixed. This
memory, however, contains rational, intellectual, and imma-
terial ideas; while the inferior memory contains only the
ideas of things, being ideas that are purely natural and ma-
terial. Therefore there is a memory of universals and a mem-
ory of singulars; and the former pertains to thought, and
the latter to imagination. Viewing them more interiorly, these
memories are distinct from each other, it being possible to
have an ample memory of universals and a poor one of singu-
lars, and also the reverse; for the memory of universals com-
prises the singulars within itself, and these can readily be
drawn forth therefrom, or can insinuate themselves as sym-
bols of confirmation. In order, therefore, that singulars may
be fitly and ordinately retained in the memory, it is neces-
sary that we form an idea of all the universals, this idea being
called reason. From that order, the singulars can be drawn
out, just as, in arithmetic and algebra, nay, and in all other
theoretical sciences, from a single general rule and the science
of calculation, we can deduce by our own effort an infinitude
of things specific or particular, and thus, in a moment, can
run through an entire book containing only examples of par-
ticulars, and can at once discern them all just as the author
himself. For the science of universals can be compared with
sight. From a tower or lofty mountain, sight beholds, at a
single glance and compass, as it were, an entire region and the
subjacent city, and an the several objects there, while one
who wanders below and in the streets, sees nought but the
sundry parts in succession, thus seeing scarcely a part of
83
that entire myriad which the memory of universals compre

hends simultaneously.
145. (6) Imagination, therefore, grasps only the form of
an object or objects, and the nature thereof according to the
order, situation, and connection of the parts or ideas, while
thought does not grasp the material form of the parts, but
from such form, or from like forms compared together, it
elicits some meaning not visible in the parts and the connec
tion of parts, but lying deeply concealed. Wherefore, thought
is said to understand, and imagination to perceive; and an
idea of thought is called immaterial, and an idea of imagina
tion material; but intellection is inmost sensation.
146. (7) Thought can never exist or subsist, still less can
it be perfected, without a pure intellect. It appears as though
the pure intellect flowed into the sphere of thoughts and il
lumined it with some light of intelligence. It is not an in
flux, however, but only a concurrence, correspondence or co
established harmony; and the greater, the better and more
perfect the concurrence and correspondence, the more sublime
the thought. But before we let our thoughts dip more deeply
into these psychological arcana, it behooves us to explain the
meanings of the words, that is to say, what is meant by in
tellection, thought, judgment, meditation, fancy, ingenuity, etc.
147. (8) The progress and course of the human intellect
is as follows, to wit: What we hear, that we see; what we see,
that we comprehend by an inmost sense, that is, perceive;
what we perceive, that we understand; from things understood
we think; from things thought we judge; from things judged
we choose; from things chosen we make conclusion; from
things concluded, we will and finally we act. This whole
process is called the common intellect; and in this, the senses
of hearing and sight play their parts, but not the other senses,
being smell, taste, and touch. The human intellect, however,
that is, the intellect proper to man, consists in understanding,
thinking, judging, choosing, concluding, willing, and in act
ing conformably. This entire course is indeed enacted suc
cessively, but usually without any observation of the move
ments and steps. The speed [of these movements] is called
84
presence of mind or, according to others, presence of animus,.
and when [the movementJ is slower, it is called absence and
slowness of mind. There can be presence of imagination and
not, at the same time, presence of intellect, and also the re
verse; for, as was noted above [no 145J, the one is distinct
from the other. One who readily perceives single things, that
is, grasps them with his imagination, while the pure intellect
readily concurs, though slightly-such a one is called ingeni
ous, and this ability is called ingenuity,. but one who readily
understands the things which he perceives, while the pure in
tellect fully concurs, that is to say, one who thinks sublimely
and views things more in accordance with the ideas or truths
of the pure intellect-such a one is said to prevail in judg
ment, and the ability itself is called judgment. Thus in
genuity is the perfection of imagination, while judgment is
the perfection of thought; or, ingenuity draws more from the
imagination and the external senses, while judgment draws
more from the pure intellect. Consequently, ingenuity is of
the nature of the intellect of animals, but judgment is of the
nature of the human intellect. Ingenuity is a familiar trait
with children, adolescents, the feminine sex, poets, and singers,
but judgment with adults and the old, with men and philoso
phers; for with age it matures and increases, while ingenuity
is decreasing. To the most perfect judgment, not only does
the pure intellect communicate and bestow rays of its own
light, but also the soul, that is, spiritual intelligence. The
parts of the human intellect, that is, of thought are called
rational ideas, or simply reasons. When these are being com
pared together and turned over, prior to a definite judgment
being formed from them, we are said to ratiocinate; the lighter
judgments that are formed are called ratiocinations. Inge
nuity, therefore, consists in the forming, not of judgments,
but of ratiocinations. When these ratiocinations are set forth
in speech, the whole act is called discourse. But let us treat
more specifically of the course and series of the parts of the
human intellect proper.
148. (9) Intellection is a superior perception, and thus an
inmost sensation, and comes into play when those things are
85
understood which are perceived by the internal sight. I use

the word intellection because it is a sensation and a kind of
passion, as will come to be demonstrated below.
149. (10) Thought follows next after perception; for when
we call forth ideas of the memory, particular and general,
singular and universal, and other similar and related ideas,
one after the other, this operation is properly called thought,
that is, a turning and revolving of the mind to every side or
to every idea. More intent and constant thought fixed deeply
on a single object is called meditation; the state and habit
of meditation is called fantasy.l
150. (11) VVhen ideas or reasons are turned over and re
volved in the thought, they are finally brought into the form
of a kind of equation, such as that into which all rational
analyses and analogies are brought, scarcely otherwise than
is the case in analytic infinitesimal calculus. This equation
is caned judgment, and within it are only those things that
look to the matter proposed. Therefore, the more perfect
the form of the equation, and the more similar and accordant
the things within it, the more perfect is the judgment. But
the perceiving of similitudes, accordances, harmonies, and
truths, pertains to the pure intellect. Therefore judgment is
exact when the rational mind has called the pure intellect
into closer companionship.
151. (12) From this analytical or rational equation, that
is, from this judgment into which innumerable reasons and
analogies have been introduced and collated, these are called
forth in turn, one reason after another, that is, one analogy
after another; for in order that we may know the contents
of an algebraic equation, those contents must be evolved in
turn, one after another; otherwise we can perceive nothing
distinctly, nor could the mind distinctly determine the several
parts, or bring them to execution. Therefore, before there
1 Phantasia. This word (from a i. e., to represent them to itself.
Gre"lk root meaning to appear) It is used by Cicero to signify a
was used by the Greek philoso notion or fancy as distinguished
phers to signify the power of the from an actual reality.
mind to set objects before itself,
86
can be any understanding of what it carries in its bosom, this

equation must again be resolved. The whole equation can-
not be unfolded at once, for its parts or analogies have en-
tered into it successively, and are within it simultaneously,
and therefore also they must be evolved successively This
operation lacks a proper name, unless it is to be called choice,
and this, being free, coincides with free decision or with free-
dom of willing and doing. For this decision freely chooses,
and thus concludes, what is to be drawn forth from that
rational equation, or that judgment, and what is to be com-
mitted to the will; for which reason it is to" be called con-
clusion. The complement of all is the will itself. Follow-
ing it and present within it, is determination, from which
comes action, and from action effect. But before conclusion
is made that something should be remitted from the intellect
to the will and be determined by the will by means of action,
a love must be present, or the desire of some end. This is
the reason why I could not treat of the will before treating
of these loves and desires.
152. (13) This human intellect proper which has now
been described, is vulgarly called thought; therefore, in what
follows, for "intellect," we shall use the word "thought."
The question now is: How is this thought carried on? From
the description, it is evident that it is carried on in like man-
ner as the imagination, namely, by changes of the state of
the sensory, that is, of the cortical gland. But the changes
of state of this sensory are common and particular, general,
specific and individual, universal and singular. The common,
general, and universal changes are those which comprise in
themselves the particular, individual, and singular changes.
They are properly thoughts, being induced and formed by
the thought itself; for a state so formed as to embrace singu-
lars [and] particulars, at first obscurely and then distinctly,
is not a state of the imagination, inasmuch as the latter is
concerned merely with the particulars and singulars. That
an infinitude of states is possible, and an infinitude of changes
of state, being as many as there are analogies both simple
and compound, and as many as there are series of analogies,
87
and these multiplied together, can hardly be conceived of by

the mind. But that they are possible, and are actually rep
resented, is a fact which experience confirms. The very per
fection of superior entities consists in their ability to change
their state. Since, therefore, the cortical gland or the internal
sensory can put on so many changes of state, it follows that
the intellectory or inmost cerebrum, that is to say, the sim
ple cortex, can produce still more changes and, indeed, infin
itely more. As an example, let us take certain thoughts re
duced into an equation. In this equation, then, as in a gen
eral or common state, there can be a thousand analyses. For
this reason, a state of the common sensory is required which
may distinctly comprehend all states. This is a 'matter of
observation from speech and from writings; for thoughts are
brought out singly, one after another; and the more distinctly
they are brought out, the more distinctly do they inhere in
the equation; for we view the single thoughts under the com
mon state. This is so evident that we find it to be true on
mere reflection.
153. (14) But because it was said [no 146], that the pure
intellect does not flow into the sphere of thoughts, but con
curs with the thoughts, that is, with the changes of state, it
now comes to be explained how this act follows. First, let
us entertain a clear idea concerning the form of the internal
sensory, that is, of the cortical gland; to wit, that it is a cere
brum in least effigy, furnished like the great cerebrum with
its simple cortex and its simple medulla, though more perfect.
A change of the state of the internal sensory here spoken of,
can in no wise induce any change of state upon the intellec
tory, that is, upon the simple cortex, just as a change of
state of the whole cerebrum does not change the state of its
several parts, changing only the external state of the parts,
namely, their situation, connection, and order among them
selves. But since the external state accords with the internal,
in that the state of the parts among themselves must needs be
consentient in some way with the internal state of the parts,
that is, of the parts in themselves, therefore it comes about
that a change of the external state at once puts itself forth
88
in the internal state, and makes manifest what2 it is and

what its nature. When the internal state is rendered con
scious of this change, it at once perceives what it signifies,
a,nd so concurs, no otherwise than as the modes of speech,
that is, words, which are perceived by the hearing, are at
once turned, as it were, into ideas similar to visual ideas, and
this, not by influx, but by correspondence. For even though
the idea is brought out in some other word and in some other
articulate sound, still the same idea concurs [with the word
or sound] ; that is to say, whether we express the same senti
ment in Greek, Latin, French, Italian, English or Swedish,
still the same visual idea concurs. Therefore it is use and
culture that causes one idea to correspond to another. A
like reasoning applies to the ideas of the memory, the imagi
nation, the thought, and the pure intellect. An internal change
of state of the sensory is an external change of state of the
intellectory; but from the external change of its state, the
intellectory apperceives by use and experience what such a
change signifies. Hence it concurs, and by its concurrence
produces a corresponding idea pertaining to the pure intellect.
Thus the more universal, general, and common the change
of state, the more distinctly does it note that change, since
it then approaches nearer to the essence and nature thereof;
for all ideas are universal truths and are more or less ab
stracted from the vocal expressions.
154. (15) It follows from the above, that we are able to
approach nearer and nearer to the pure intellect, doing this
by means of universal ideas and a kind of passive potency;
and this, in that we remove particular ideas, that is, with
draw the mind from terms and ideas that are broken, lim
ited, and material, and at the same time, from desires and
loves that are purely natural. Then the human intellect, be
ing at rest from heterogeneous throngs, as it were, and re
maining only in its own ideas and those proper to the pure
intellect, causes our mind to undergo no other changes, or
to draw forth no other reasons save those that are concordant
• Reading quid for quod.
89
with the ideas of the pure intellect. In this way our intel
lect enjoys inmost repose and inmost delight; for this con
currence then appears as an influx of a certain light of in
telligence which illuminates the whole sphere of thought, and,
by a certain consensus, I know not whence, draws its whole
mind together, and inmostly dictates that a thing is true or
good, or that it is false or evil. In this way our intellect
is perfected in judgment which grows mature; and, if I may
speak from theoretical anatomy, when the mind comes into
this state, this simple medulla [no 153] seems then to consist
of simple fibers alone, and of but few blood vessels; for as
many as are the simple fibers, so many are the intellectual
rays of the pure intellect; and as many as are the vessels, so
many are the shades which obscure these luminous or intel
lectual rays. But this in passing.
155. (l6) From the above, the mode whereby the human
intellect is perfected is now apparent, it being apparent,
namely, that there is none in tender infancy, that it is aug
mented in adolescence, is perfected in adult age, and that
then, with the decrease of ingenuity or imagination, there is
an increase in judgment; for there can be no thought in in
fancy, still less in the embryo. Therefore, there is a concur
rence, correspondence, or co-established harmony, but not
an influx. For the existence of correspondence and harmony,
these must be co-established by use and culture; for the pure
intellect concurs in accordance with a perceived change [of
state] . Yet, whether it be the case of an embryo, an in
fant, a stupid man, or an insane, the pure intellect remains
ever the same, being unable to unfold itself until it per
ceives changes of state to which it may correspond; nor can
the sensory learn to change its state save by use and thc
influx of external sensations, as frequently noted above.
Then, according to the induced mutability, the pure inteUect
escapes, and emerges as from its prison house wherein it was
shut in, that is, from its inmost bosom, and so manifests that
which had been present from the beginning of formation, but
which could not sooner unfold itself. And when unfolding
itself, which takes place in process of time, then, at every
90
instant, it exhibits itself wholly present in the several forms
and harmonies of words, and in the searching into their in
most meanings from the mere connection and ordination
of the ideas.
156. (17) But both actual experience and also theory con
firm the fact that the human intellect proper depends on the
imagination, and but little on its pure intellect; yea, that the
imagination depends more on sensation than on its intellect or
thought; and consequently, that our intellect is very impure
and is of such a nature that it deserves rather to be called
spurious and adulterous. And yet, to us, it appears so seemly
and pure that it is believed to be the. soul itself-which latter
is not only pure intellect but also spiritual intelligence. How
false this is, appears clearly from the bare proposition. In
deed, our intellect is often so alienated from the pure intellect
that they contend against each other, the former acknowledg
ing things of the world as verities, and the latter knowing
inmostly that they are pure lies, and that the adornments
which enable them to appear on the scene and be applauded
as verities, are fallacies.
157. (18) For the rest, that the human intellect may exist,
it is necessary that verities be variegated with lies, and be, as
it were, modified thereby; or truths with falses, and goods
with evils. From the mixture and the relative variegation
and harmonious opposition, a rational analysis arises, and an
opinion is born-an hypothesis, some unknown principle, and
many other properties of the human intellect. Without the
variegation of intelligence and ignorance, thought and judg
ment can no more exist than a visual image without light and
shade. This is the reason why light and clarity are predicated
of intelligence, and shade and darkness of ignorance, for
they mutually correspond to each other. Without such varie
gation, there would be no earthly society, no diversity of
thoughts, customs, actions, and bodies, no affirmations and
negations, no uncertainties as to eventualities, no auguries,
and, indeed, no desires of ends, no earthly loves, nor many
other things which enter into human society as necessities;
nor would there be any speech, or any communication of
91
thoughts by discourse, unless by some superior and angelic

discourse which would not in the least concern earthly things.
158. (19) The various kinds of insanities, which are in
finite in number, arise from the states of the sensories being
so perverted that they enact no changes save such as are
irregular and are inharmonious with the pure intellect; and
since the intellectory concurs, it concurs in like order with
these also, and so seems to consent, as it were, although ut
terly dissentient. Thus it is thought or the human intellect
that is insane, and not the pure intellect.
x
The Commerce of Soul and Body
159. (1) The mode in which the soul communicates with
the body can never be investigated until search has been made
as to what the soul is, and what the body; what sensation,
imagination, thought, the pure intellect, and the spiritual;
what will and action; and what the nature of the sensory
and motory organs, both internal and external, and the con
nection of the organism; besides an infinitude of other things.
For so long as there is no knowledge of what the soul and
the body are, and what the difference between soul and body,
their cooperation, communication, and intercourse must needs
be unknown. From things unknown, is brought out nothing
but the unknown; and when we speak of entities whose es
sentials are unknown, we speak merely by virtue of ignor
ance, whatsoever the progress in our speech. If I assert that
thought consists of myriads of myriads of parts, I yet do not
deny that, to myself, I do not seem to have arrived at a single
part of so vast a thought, but have acquired only an obscure
idea from what has been premised. That external sensa
tions communicate with internal and inmost sensations and,
finally, with the soul itself and its intelligence, and that the
like is true of actions-this is clearer than light; for the fact
that we move and live and have our being in our body is due
92
THE COMMERCE OF SOUL AND BODY 159-161
to our soul, which alone is the beginning of motion, the life,

and the essence of our body.
160. (2) The communication itself appears as though it
were an influx; for the mode and image of the external sense
seem to pass over into the idea of the internal sense. But lest
the appearance deceive us, let us penetrate by rational con
sideration into the actual connections of things; otherwise we
easily seize upon fallacies in place of truths.
161. (3) It is evident that, in the cerebrum or common
sensory, articulate sounds, that is, spoken words, or the modes
of hearing, are changed into ideas similar to the visual, that
is to say, into so many images. Thus, when we describe a
house, palace, city, meadows, fields, the sky, etc., in words
or speech, the idea of .them is at once represented. But this
communication or commerce cannot be called either influx
or harmony, but only acquired correspondence. The sound
of these words is merely a tremiscence, and this cannot evoke
a like visual idea; for whether we describe palaces, cities,
fields, in French, English, Latin or Greek, the idea aroused
is nevertheless the same, despite the sound or the articulation
of the sound being different. This correspondence is acquired
by use and cultivation; for we learn to speak a language,
and so learn that a given modulation signifies a given image,
a villa, a picture; and whenever that articulation of sound
recurs, the same idea also recurs. For this, moreover, a phys
ical and anatomical reason can be given; for the very sounds,
whether articulated and compounded, or simple, cause a trem
iscence in the fibers, cortex, and meninges of the cerebrum.
This tremiscence vibrates the substances themselves, and
moves their parts locally with alternate motions. This al
ternating vibration does not induce any change in the internal
state of the parts, but only in their external state, that is, in
the cerebrum itself. Nevertheless, these parts, by reason of
the connection with each other which they mutually hold and
preserve, and by reason of their very form, that is to say, their
situation and order, at once perceive, not only that a change
has been induced, but also the nature of the change; and from
93
use, they learn what such change signifies. Consequently,

the sensory ever concurs with its own idea.
162. But besides this acquired correspondence between the
articulated sounds of speech, or between hearing and the ideas
of the internal sight or imagination, there is also a natura~
correspondence, flowing, not from the sounds themselves as
sounds, but from the harmony of the sOl~nds; as, for instance,
from the melody of song, from harmonious music, the sym
metry of words, or the lowering and raising of the voice when
we speak; yea, and also from the sounds of certain words,
which are called natural; for they at once arouse the animus,
since they affect it with gladness or grief or love. Such also
is the speech of brute animals. The cause is the same, aris
ing namely, from the connection, situation, order, and form,
that is to say, from the mutual harmony of the parts of the
cerebrum among themselves, which corresponds with the in
ternal form and state of the parts; for a proximately lower
form descends from a superior form, and so is born into the
likeness of that superior or prior or parent form.
163. The communication of the external sight with the in
ternal, that is, of the sensation of ocular sight with the im
agination, is effected by natura~ correspondence. As regards
sight, this, strictly speaking, does not exist in the eye but in
the common sensory or the cortical cerebrum. It indeed
passes through the eye, but it does not stop until, by the fibers
of the optic nerve and the medullary fibers of the cerebrum,
it has elevated itself or risen up to the origins of those fibers,
that is, to the cortical substance of the cerebrum. As soon
as it touches these origins, it diffuses itself through their
whole surface and, consequently, through the whole struc
ture. Thus, ocular sight has its existence in this sensory, and
between the latter and the eye, there is a continuous connec
tion. In certain respects, this communication can be called
influx, though it is rather the presence in the internal sensory
of that same image which had been in the external. This,
however, is only sight, not imagination. So likewise with
hearing. This is not due to the ear, but properly speaking
to the cerebrum, being conveyed to the cerebrum by a con
94
THE COMMERCE OF SOUL AND BODY 163
tinuity of fibers. Thus hearing and sight can be compared

together, hearing being a tremiscence of the whole cerebrum
and its parts, and sight a tremiscence of the parts of the cere
brum or of the cerebellula, that is to say, of the cortical glands,
this being effected by a still more subtle tremiscence which
most delicately vibrates every individual part of its surface
and structure.
The communication of sight with imagination, on the other
hand, is effected by a correspondence that is natural and at
the same time acquired; for when the images and phenomena
of ocular sight come to this common sensory, that is, to their
internal sensoriola, the very harmony of the object, the images
or the phenomena, so affects the sensory or these sensoriola
that they at once undergo some change of their state, things
harmonious exhilarating, expanding and delighting the sen
sory, and things inharmonious constricting, contorting, and
grieving it. There is an infinitude of such changes of state,
there being as many as are the genera and species of har
monies and disharmonies, as many as are their generic, spe
cific, and individual differences, and as many as are the rela
tions between things opposite. Thus it is not sight that in
duces this change but the harmony within and between the
objects of sight; just as in the case of the eye itself, which
changes its state according to the quality of the object; and
so likewise with the ear. The eye and the very body and its
every fiber which contracts or expands at even the slightest
touch, constricts at everything which brings injury, and ex
pands at everything which soothes and restores. Such also is
the affection of the cerebrum in general, arising from har
monies of sounds. This change of the sensory is effected by
natural correspondence, the harmony being a harmony of the
parts among themselves; for among them is order, and within
them a form which we have declared to be the vortical. Thus,
as the harmony is, such is the correspondence. The human
cerebrum and sensory is indeed formed into such correspond
ence, but as regards changes of state, these exist within it, not
actually, but in potency, differently than is the case in brute
animars; for in them they are present actually from their very
95
birth. This is the reason why, in man, such changes of state

must be induced by use and cultivation, that is to say,
actually; and when they have been induced, they remain as
acquired changes. Hence memory and its ideas; and when
these are reproduced, we have imagination. Therefore, the
communication between sight and imagination exists by an
acquired correspondence which presupposes a natural corre
spondence; for in this case, the one is not possible without
the other.
164. Imagination, on the other hand, has no communica
tion with the thought by any correspondence, natural or
acquired; for thought is a like change of state as imagina
tion, being a more perfect imagination, the changes of the
state whereof are induced by the habit of imagination ab
stracted from the sensible objects of sight. Inquiry must
therefore be made as to what is the communication between
imagination or thought and the pure intellect; for the more
closely and perfectly the imagination communicates with the
pure intellect, the more perfect it becomes, being called thought
and a purer and more rational intellect.
165. The communication between thought and the pure in
tellect is likewise carried on by natural and acquired corre
spondence, for the one supposes the other. The pure intel
lectory itself is constituted of a certain simple cortical sub
stance analogous to that which is in the cerebrum; for the
internal sensory, that is, the cortical gland, is a cerebrum in
least effigy and, consequently, a more simple and perfect cere
brum. From the cerebrum, therefore, and from the communi
cation of hearing and sight with imagination, we learn the
nature of the communication of imagination or thought with
the pure intellect or intellectory, that is, with this simple
and analogous cortical substance. Ideas of the imagination
or of the thought induce on the intellectory a change of its
external state; for they disturb those simple substances from
their situation, connection, and order, and thus change the
form and harmony of their state. Consequently, by usage
this intellectory understands what such change signifies.
Hence a correspondence is brought forth and formed which
96
must be called acquired correspondence. But the harmony

in and between ideas, which are the rational and intellectual
ideas of the mind, affects the intellectory no differently than
the harmony of the objects of sight affects the sensory; thus
there is a natural correspondence. This harmony is not like
the harmony of the objects of sight, but is a rational har
mony, having for its object truth and falsity, moral good and
evil. Such harmony existing in good and between goods is
called love, and this is pleasantly soothing and produces
rational delight; and it arouses a desire for the obtaining
of the effect of the love, this effect being called the end which
is desired. This harmony in and between the ideas of thought,
this love, rational enjoyment and end, instantaneously and
naturally affects the pu-re intellectory, whose ideas are pure
natural truths, and whose harmonies are pure natural good
nesses. There can be the less doubt in respect to the natural
correspondence, in that we perceive by reflection alone that
within our thought there is a something which consents or
dissents, affirms or denies; and that the truths in all proposi
tions shine forth naturally and as though of themselves, show
ing that there is some internal man which corresponds to
the external man. That there is also an acquired correspond
ence is clear from the fact that while those ideas which are
reproduced by changes of the state of the sensory are indeed
natural and, in and between themselves, are in agreement with
the harmonies of the objects, yet, if the intellectory is to draw
a meaning from them, and to understand what they signify,
these harmonies must again be coordinated and compounded
by the use of art. s The intellectory is not tied to ideas and
words, but if it is to understand the meaning of words, it
must know from usage what the change [of state] is intended
to express. Meanwhile, we can turn our mind to both sides,
and can hold that the intellectory, not being tied to ideas,
and not being instructed, would know naturally and of itself
• [Footnote by the Author:] I correspondence and no acquired
think that there is [here] a natural correspondence.
97
what a change of its external state is intended to express. But

respecting these matters, I am in doubt.
166. The question is now asked, What is the communica
tion of the soul with the pure intellect? That intellectory
which has been likened to a simple cortex from which simple
fibers spring forth as so many intellectual rays, cannot be
the soul itself; for the intellectory must be created and formed
from substances in which is a superior form, essence and spirit
ual intelligence. That this communication is a correspondence,
is seen from the parallelism or analogy with the communication
mentioned above; for whenever the intellectory undergoes
its changes, the soul which formed that intellectory perceives
the change of its state as something outside herself. Thus
the correspondence is such that the soul understands of her
self, without practice and experience, what those changes
are to declare; for the pure intellect is not instructed by the
experience of the senses, still less is the soul, which established
this her intellectory-a fact which can be confirmed by in
numerable psychological phenomena, as, for instance, from
the following universal proposition which is affirmed, as it
were, spontaneously, without arguments sought a posteriori,
to wit: that the natural cannot inflow into the spiritual, or,
that the rational man does not of himself find out that which
is purely spiritual. The intellectory is the first form of nature,
and so is the first natural thing, whereas the soul is spiritual
and is above nature; but, by means of the pure intellect, it
operates that which is natural.
167. From the above, it now follows that the commerce be
tween the bodily sensations [and the soul] is not effected by
any influx, still less by a physical influx, unless by influx we
wish to understand natural correspondence, but then it is an
influx of harmony and not an influx of the entities that form
the harmony. It is this influx that seems to have been meant
by the tmthor of Occasional Causes. 4 Natural correspond
ence falls in with preestablished harmony, and. acquired cor
respondence with coestablished harmony; for natural corre
, Namely, DeBcarteB.
98
spondence is the result of coestablished harmony. In the soul,

this harmony is preestablished, while between the soul and
the intellect, and between the latter and the thought, it is
coestablished. But because it preexists before the other cor
respondences were formed, it can also be called preestablished,
that is, established prior to the harmonies that follow. In
this way, the hypotheses concerning the commerce of body
and soul are reconciled; to wit, the hypotheses of those who
affirm occasional causes, of those,who affirm physical influx,
and of those who affirm preestablished harmony. For when
the paths, the modes and the differences of the communica
tion are rightly understood, the writings of the three schools
are seen to be concordant. Because of this concordance, I
would prefer that this commerce be said to be effected by
correspondence. Thus,"the hypotheses themselves also mu
tually correspond to each other. 5
• Descartes held that the soul the commerce between them by
and body were so utterly distinct the doctrine of PREESTABLISHED
that they had nothing in common. HARMONY, a doctrine which his
To the soul belonged will and disciple, Christian von WoUT, pre
thought; to the body, extension. sented as a complete philosophical
From this conception, his disciples, system. According to this doc
in order to explain the commerce trine, the soul and body are so
between soul and body, formulat distinct that there cannot be any
ed the doctrine of Occasionalism influx of the one into the other.
or OCCASIONAL CAUSES. According Each has its own laws; but be
to this doctrine, on the occasion tween them there is such pre
when the soul wills, God makes established harmony that, when
the body act accordingly; and on ever the soul desires, the body
the occasion when the body sen acts, and whenever the body is
sates, God makes the soul perceive affected or acts, the soul at once
its sensation. wills; and this, not because of any
Opposed to this was the doctrine causal relation between the two,
of PHYSICAL INFLUX held by many but by virtue of a preestablished
of the Schoolmen. According to harmony. See Swedenborg's work
this doctrine, the world flows into on Influx n. 19. For his examina
the soul by the senses, and there tion of the doctrine of Preestab
produces sensation, perception and lished Harmony, see his "Har
will. mony between Soul and Body" in
Leibnitz, following Descartes' Psychological Transactions (Swed.
thought as to the utter distinction Scient. Assoc'n, 1920).
between soul and body, explained
99
168. This commerce, however, or this communication is

between bodily sensations and the soul, and the question is
asked, What is the communication between actions and the
soul? for in both body and soul is the power of acting as well
as of suffering action. Passion or sensation runs through a
certain gyre and passes over into action; for it has been shown,
that the internal sensory perceives and understands; ponders
over what is understood, that is to say, thinks; from thoughts,
judges; from judgments, selects what is agreeable and so con-
cludes, wills', determines, acts, and thus, by action, produces
an effect agreeing with the end as understood and desired.
Since there is such a gyre before sensation pa$ses over into
action, the question is asked, What is the commerce between
bodily actions and the soul?
169. The cortical cerebrum is both a common motory and
a common sensory. On it depend the actions of the body
which are carried out by the muscles. When determining an
action, this common motory, that is, the cortex of the cere-
brum, actually expands and constricts. This constriction and
expansion is called determination. By this expansion and
constriction, that is, by its systole and diastole, the cerebrum
expels, through compound and simple fibers, its animal spirit
and purer blood which produce the action. Hence there
is a real communication of operations by a fluid medium.
Therefore, in the sensory lies the acting or determining force,
and in the muscle, the action, which latter is carried out by
means of the connection of the fibers, and the influx of the
fluid in the fibers into the motor fibers of the muscles, ac-
cording to the nature of the determining force and the form
and organization of the muscle; for, according to the rule, ac-
tion is the consequence of force. As to how the will produces
this force, this can be seen by comparison with conatus, will
being a quasi-conatus. When resistances are removed, co-
natus breaks out into open motion. So, when rational re-
sistances or impossibilities are removed, will breaks out into
open action. Hence, will is a perpetual effort, as it were, to
expand and constrict its sensory as soon as the intellect notes
that nothing opposes.
100
THE COMMERCE OF SOUL AND BODY 170-171
170. The pure intellect, that is, the intellectory, concurs

with this force and action by consent, it not being possible
for the sensory to expand and constrict unless the intellectory
consents; for, to the latter belong the simple fibers, yea, and
also the beginnings of the simple fibers, and unless these con-
cur, no action can ever be determined. For if the purer blood
is to be determined through the medullary fiber of the cere-
brum and the nerve fiber of the body into the motor fibers
of the muscle, it is necessary that the animal spirit be also
simultaneously determined through the simple fibers. With-
out the concurrence of both, the animal machine would labor,
and the fibers would be burst. To the sensory is delivered
the power of changing its own internal state, which is the
external state of the intellectory. Consequently, whether it
wills it or not, the intellectory is nevertheless, bound to con-
cur; for without this favorable consent and concurrence, the
external state of the iJitellectory, the internal state of the
sensory, and also the internal state of the cerebrum which
is the external state of the sensory, hence the state of the
whole body, would be subject to the danger of destruction
and of becoming extinct and useless. The very necessity of
conserving health and soundness demands that the intellec-
t ory6 come down into those parts and consent. It is said to
favor with consent when loves and ends are in concord or
correspondence, otherwise it is said simply to concur-for if
there is to be action, there must be a principal cause, etc.
171. When, however, there is no preceding rational will, as
is the case in the cerebellum and in the cerebrum itself dur-
ing sleep, then every force begins immediately in the pure
intellectory, this being demanded by natural necessity and by
the health of the entire kingdom; for the intellectory is at
once rendered conscious of every minutest change in its body
and the parts thereof. This is the reason for the fact that
the intellectory restores what the will destroys; and that the
will is so blind that at every moment it is driving its body
upon the rocks, like a sailor his ship; but that when the
• The text has intellect, but this is clearly a slip.
101
sensory is quiescent, and during sleep, the intellectory sets it

free and ever brings it to a new haven. This is called instinct,
the human intellect not being rendered conscious of its opera
tions; for whatever flows immediately from the pure intel
lect does not come to the consciousn~ss of our mind. This
is .the reason why this stupendous natural economy of the
body flows on, in accordance with every science of nature, by
a most constant law, as though spontaneously; for the pure
intellect is science itself and harmony and order and truth.
172. The soul concurs with the pure intellectory for the
production of action, not by consent but by permitting; for
she suffers the sensory to act. Otherwise there would be no
free choice of moral good and evil. As soon as the soul notes
from the consent of the intellectory that the sensory wishes
to operate in a certain way, she suffers and permits the ani
mal machine below her so to act, in like mariner as does the
intellectory in the case of somnambulists; for after the fall of
the first man, all the soul's liberty of acting in her own body
was taken away and ceded to the sensory. The only thing
left to the soul is that she supplies to the single parts the
faculty or power of acting and of suffering action, and main
tains the same.
173. From the above it now follows that, with respect to
the actions of her body, the soul concurs by permitting, the
pure intellectory by consenting, and the sensory by active
force, that is, by acting. From the latter comes the action
of the muscle, the muscle being held to act and obey exactly
as the sensory commands; the body then concurs by obeying.
174. But the further question is asked, How does the soul
so communicate with the motory and sensory organs of her
body that she can furnish them with the faculty of acting
and sensating, and can maintain the same? From what has
been noted above, it is more than evident that it is the soul
that sensates; that is to say, that sees, hears, and tastes; that
perceives, thinks, understands, judges, wills. In other words,
that it is from the soul that the body derives its power of sen
sating and acting. This, however, is not communication or
commerce but is a real presence of the soul, she being in the
102
HARMONIES AND AFFECTIONS 174-175
whole and every part of her body actually. For there is no
external motory and sensory organ which does not consist of
vessels and fibers; no vessel which has not been raised up
from fibers; no such fibers, not raised up from simple fibers;
no simple fiber which does not derive its origin from the in
tellectory; and the intellectory derives its origin from the
substances of its soul. Consequently, there is not a single ex
ternal sensory and motory organ which does not draw its es
sence from the soul. Thus there is a real presence of the
soul everywhere, being a species of omnipresence. She has so
formed the organs that they shall sensate in a certain way
and no otherwise; for each organ draws from its form that it
is what it is taken to be. Moreover, it is the soul that has
led the sensory7 fibers, wherein she is the all, from the organs
even to the cerebrum, where she has formed a common sen
sory which shall perceive distinctly the things presented be
fore it and, in its own way, shall understand them. It is
from its form that the sensory also is what it is, and that its
several fibers have communication with itself and, at the same
time, with the man himself, by a kind of correspondence, to
the end that he may become aware of accidents and contin
gencies outside himself.
XI
Harmonies' and the Affections arising therefrom.
Desires in General.
175. (1) There is no entity and no substance in the uni

verse without form. That it is something, and that it is
what it is, this it derives solely from its form. Essential
de terminations constitute form. Whatever the essences which
are determined, this cannot be conceived of without an idea
of parts or substances; and the determination cannot be con
ceived of without an idea of fluxion or coexistence. Sub
stances themselves are called determinants; and that which
1 The MS. has singulas.
103
is determined by substances is a new substance, but compound,

within which is form.
176. (2) Substances which determine themselves or are
determined, have a mutual regard for each other. This is
called analogy. The analogy of all determinations, whether
that analogy be successive or simultaneous, is called Harmony
or Disharmony. Consequently, within every form is its own
harmony or disharmony. From the harmony or disharmony
is learned the quality of the form.
177. (3) Just as forms are perfect or imperfect, so also
are harmonies. There are forms which in themselves and
their own nature are most perfect, and forms which in them
selves and their nature are most imperfect; and between these
are an infinite number of steps. So likewise with harmonies.
Forms and harmonies are most perfect in themselves and their
nature, when the latter is perfect. Imperfect forms and har
monies are also of nature, but the nature is then called im
perfect. In the degree, therefore, that forms approach more
nearly to perfect nature, in that degree are they more har
monious, and vice versa.
178. (4) Forms which in themselves and their own nature
are simpler, prior, and superior are more perfect than forms
which are posterior and inferior. So likewise harmonies.
From examples: The most perfect of the angular form or forms
is the equilateral triangle or some like form of trigons. More
imperfect among angular forms are the oblong, the parallel
ogram, the trapezium, and other like forms. In itself and
its own nature, the spherical or circular form is more perfect
than the triangular form; but the most perfect of spherical
forms is the circular; less perfect are ellipses, cycloids, parab
olas, etc. So likewise in superior forms, namely, in the
spiral, the vortical, the celestial, and the spiritual. And as
are the forms, such also are the harmonies, it being from
forms that these derive all their quality.
179. (5) Within every form is its own state, which is the
coexistence of the substances that are or have been determined.
This state is called harmonious when the substanceB coexist
or are in succession according to the perfect order of nature.
104
HARMONiES AND AFFECTIONS 180-184
180. (6) With the exception of the angular form, every

form in the atmospheric world and in the animal and vege
table kingdoms is able to change its state, and to pass from
its most perfect natural state into states more imperfect, and
from these to return into more perfect states. The power of
changing state is the very perfection of form, being so great
in the superior forms that their changes of state exceed all
number and must be counted as infinite in number.
181. When a circular form passes over into elliptical forms
and other geometrical curves, it is said to change its state.
So also a spiral form is said to change its state when it passes
over into spirals of another kind, whether geometrical or arith
metical. So likewise in the case of superior forms, whose
varieties of form cannot be demonstrated by geometry, nor
expressed in words. Whatsoever the degree, its most per
fect form is unchangeable, but the other forms of the same
degree are changeable. Thus, in the circular form there is
only one circle, but there is an infinitude of ellipses. So also
in all other forms.
182. (7) Simple expansions and constrictions of the same
form are not changes [of state], for the same essential de
terminations and the same analogies and harmonies remain,
whether the forms be expanded or constricted; but they are
modifications, whereby forms exert their forces. But by ex
pansions and cO,nstrictions, the nature of the exercise of the
form's forces is varied.
183. (8) Forms that can change their states perfectly, and
at the same time can expand and compress-such forms, by
the changes of their state, and also by modifications, produce
various harmonies actually, and indeed all possible harmonies.
Those changes of state which the forms produce are again so
many essential determinations, from which results a new form
which has state, and wherein is harmony; and when a number
of these are alike, then, from them in turn, by means of
changes of state, arise new forms, and so forth. So in like
manner with harmonies.
184. (9) All changes of state take place successively; but
when, by means of these changes, new forms are produced,
105
then all the changes of state that were effected successively

exist in these new forms simultaneously. Thus states of
forms, and harmonies are general and particular, universal
and singular, or general, special, and individual. From this
it is apparent how infinite is the diversity of forms, states,
and harmonies.
185. (10) Modifications which are variations of dimen
sions, that is, are expansions and constrictions of the substance
wherein is the form, produce harmony by a mutual regard to
each other. Such are the harmonies of sounds, and such the
harmonies of visual objects and colors, both in themselves
and among themselves. Hence it follows that there are also
forms of modes, which are called simply modifications.
186. (11) Harmonies of the atmospheric world are brought
about by modifications alone, and not by changes of state,
the forces being within the modifications themselves. Har
monies of the animal kingdom, on the other hand, are pro
duced both by modifications, which are so many forces and
actions of that kingdom, and by changes of state, which are
so many sensations.
187. (12) The organs of the animal kingdom, both the
external and the internal, are so formed as to receive modi
fications of the atmospheric world and convert them into
sensations; as, for instance, the modifications of air into sen
sations of the hearing, and the modifications of ether into
sensations of the sight. Moreover, these said organs, espe
cially the internal, are affected, not so much by the modifica
tions themselves, but by the harmonies of the modifications,
and this that they may change their state in conformity with
the harmonies, whence come perceptions. In this way, sight
is transformed into imagination, and imagination into ideas.
This is said to be effected by natural correspondence.
188. (13) The organs, both external and internal, are not
affected by the same harmonies of the modifications of the
atmospheric world in the same way with all men; but, as the
organs are, so they are affected, for so do they correspond.
The diversity of the reception of harmonies, that is, the di
106
HARMONIES AND AFFECTIONS 188-193
versity of affections, is as great as is the diversity of brains,

that is, of men.
189. (14) Affections are changes of state corresponding to
the harmonies which flow into the organs, especially the sen-
sory organs. The whole cerebrum or common sensory is
affected by the sonorous harmonies of hearing; the internal
sensory by the harmonies of the objects of sight; the pure
intellectory by the harmonies of the ideas of the imagination,
and especially of the thought; the soul by the harmonies of
the natural truths of the pure intellect; God by the harmonies
of the superior or spiritual truths of the soul.
190. (15) From this it is evident that there is nothing in
the created universe which cannot be referred to forms or to
ideas which are so many forms, or to harmonies and to affec-
tions; or there is nothing which cannot be explained by means
of forms, ideas, harmonies, and affections.
191. (16) All harmonies affect the sensory organs, both
external and internal, agreeably or pleasantly, or else dis-
agreeably or unpleasantly; that is to say, they either gladden
or sadden. The more perfect harmonies are agreeable or de-
lightful, while the more imperfect, being disharmonies, are
disagreeable and undelightful; for pleasant harmonies soothe
the sensories, inasmuch as they restore and vivify, while un-
pleasant harmonies, that is, disharmonies, contract the sen-
sories, inasmuch as they destroy and mortify.
192. (17) But all harmonies are relative to the harmonic
state of the sensory which is affected. In a sensory, the state
whereof is disharmonic, perfect harmonies appear undelight-
ful, and more undelightful, the more perfect in themselves
the harmonies. Therefore, disharmonies are the very har-
monies of such a sensory. But because in themselves and in
their nature and essence, harmonies like forms are more or
less perfect and imperfect, judgment concerning the state of
the sensory must be made from its affections; but for judging
truly, it is requisite that the state of the judge's sensory be
perfectly harmonious.
193. (18) Such, therefore, as is the state of the whole cere-
brum, such is its affection arising from the harmonies of the
107
sounds of hearing. Such as is the state of the internal sen

sory, such is its affection from the harmonies of the objects
of sight. Such as is the state of the inteIlectory, such is its
affection from the harmonies of the ideas of thought. Such
as is the state of the soul, such is its affection from the har
monies of natural truths. God, who is love and is perfection
itself, judges concerning the harmonies of the spiritual truths
of the soul from Himself. The devil is affected unpleasantly
and saddened by the most -perfect spiritual harmonies, but is
affected pleasingly and delighted by disharmonies.
194. (19) Things which affect our sensories agreeably and
pleasantly, these we appetize and long for, but things which
affect them disagreeably and unpleasantly, these we turn away
from; for things agreeable and pleasant soothe, restore, and
vivify, while things disagreeable and unpleasant irritate, de
stroy, and mortify. Therefore, in the same degree that we
love the soundness, health, and conservation of our body, we
desire affections that are agreeable and delightful; and in
the same degree that we hate its sickness, destruction and
death, we turn away from affections that are disagreeable
and undelightful. It is from this cause that the cerebrum
appetizes, longs for, desires the soft allurements of touch, the
sweets of taste, the soothing delights of smell, and the har
monies of hearing; the internal sensory, the beauties and
charms of the objects of sight; the pure intellectory, the veri
similitudes and delights of the rational ideas of thought; the
soul, the favor and love of the natural truths of the pure in
tellect; God, the salvation and felicity of souls.
195. (20) But our external and internal sensories are so
conjoined and distinct that what the one appetizes the other
often may be averse to, and vice versa. The external sen
sories may be delighted by the harmonies of the world and
the pleasures of the body, and the internal sensory saddened
by the same, and the intellectory be gladdened at this sad
ness, and so forth. Thus the internal man often clashes and
contends with the external. Anatomy itself makes this plain.
The organ of hearing and of sight is one thing, and the common
sensory or cerebrum another; still another is the internal sen
108
THE ANIMUS AND ITS AFFECTIONS 195-198
sory, that is, the cortex of the cerebrum; another again is the
pure intellectory, being the simple cortex of each internal sen
sory. The form, state, and harmony of the one may differ im
mensely from that of the other. Whatever the connection, situ
ation, and order of the substances of the cerebrum, the connec
tion, situation, and order of the simpler substances of the inter
nal sensory may yet be different, inasmuch as their correspond
ence is acquired by use and cultivation; for each has its own
selfhood, and what is the internal state of the one, is the ex
ternal state of the other, and so forth. Thus their affections
are not alike, and in the sensories they rarely correspond to
each other.
196. (21) Appetite is predicated of all agreeable affections
that are proper to the body, its viscera and organs. Its affec
tions are called pleasures and delights. Cupidities are pred
icated of all those agreeable affections which are proper to
the cerebrum or common sensory; desire and also will, of all
those which are proper to the internal sensory; loves of those
which are proper to the pure intellectory; love, in the singular,
of those which are of the soul. But because these distinctions
are unknown, the one is commonly taken for the other.
XII
The Animus and Its Affections In Particular
197. (1) Sensations, such as sight, hearing, smell, taste,
and touch, are attributed to the cerebrum, for which reason
the cerebrum is called the Common Sensory. Its organs or
instruments, being the eye, ear, nostrils, tongue, and skin,
are in the body and of the body. These do not sensate, but
they distinguish and receive the forms of the contacts and
transmit them to the cerebrum. This is the reason why, with
the sickening of the cerebrum, the senses, which appear as
though they were in the organs, grow languid.
198. (2) To the animus, however, are attributed, not sen
sations, but affections, which are also called its passions; for
the cerebrum sensates, but it is affected by sensations accord
109
ing to its form. Therefore, the animus is the form of the ideas
of the common or external sensory-for, according to the form
of the sensory, such is the animus-and the active and living
principle of all the mutations of its body. As the animus is
affected, so it desires, and according to the desire of the ani
mus, such is the pleasure of the body. Thus, from the form
of the sensory, judgment, can be made concerning the animus,
and from the animus, concerning the sensory.
199. (3) In general, the affections of the animus are either
in accord with the common sensory, or not in accord. Those
which are accordant are pleasing, but those which are dis
cordant are displeasing. Pleasing affections expand the cere
brum or cheer the animus; displeasing affections compress the
cerebrum and constrain the animus; and irregular affections
distort the cerebrum and confuse the animus. Pleasing affec
tions refresh the cerebrum and exhilarate the animus; dis
pleasing affections injure the cerebrum and sadden the ani
mus. Pleasing affections restore the cerebrum with new heat
and the animus with new life; but displeasing affections de
stroy the cerebrum and extinguish the animus. Thus pleas
ing affections are so many heats of the cerebrum, and con
sequently, of the body, and so many revivals of the life of
the animus and, consequently, of the sensations and actions of
the body. But displeasing affections are so many torpors and
colds of the cerebrum and consequently, of the body, and so
many hazards of life, and swoons and deaths of the animus
and consequently, of the sensations and actions of the body;
for the animus and its affections, both pleasing and displeasing,
die with the cerebrum.
200. (4) Of the affections of the animus, there are many
genera and an infinitude of species, such as gladness and
sadness, loves and hatreds, [rivalries and] envies, courage and
fear, patience and wrath, temperance and intemperance, clem
ency and cruelty, ambition and arrogance, liberality and
avarice, as well as many others. But there are affections
which are proper to the common sensory and its animus and
which are called animal affections; affections which are proper
to the internal sensory and its mind and which are called ra
110
tional affections; and affections which partake of both. There

fore, each of these will be treated of specifically.
GLADNESS
201. (5) Gladness is the general pleasing affection, for all

affections that are pleasing give delight and gladness. Its
causes, both generally and specifically, are all harmonies
which are concordant, that is, which accord with our senso
ries and allure them, especially the internal sensory when the
latter regards the fortunes, happiness, and restoration of the
life of its body. Gladness expands the cerebrum and cheers
the animus, loosening its reins, as it were, and permitting it
to act freely. This expansion of the cerebrum and cheering
of the animus stands out in the face, in its sensory organs
which are similarly expanded,s and in the whole body which,
though previously constricted, yet, in gladness, freely swells
up. When, by means of this universal expansion, the beds
of the cortical substance of the cerebrum are drawn apart,
then each internal sensory is also expanded, and in this state
the one does not press upon the other. Hence we are aroused
as though from sleep into a more perfect life; the blood flows
more freely through the smaller and more minute vessels,
and courses through its glands and fibers. Hence the whole
chemistry of the cerebrum, and the whole economy of the
body are restored; for whatever the animus of the cerebrum,
it is transfused into the body, there being a continuity of all
things from their origins, the cortical substances. This is the
reason why we are able to judge concerning the affections
of the cerebrum, that is, of the common and internal sen
sory, from the body, and especially from the countenance on
which the animus is inscribed. In extreme gladness, not
only are the cortical beds and the medullary strata opened,
together with the fibrous and vascular canals of the cere
brum and body, but also the pores of the cranium and bones,
• The autograph has eriguntur slip for expanduntur as in the
(erected), but the use of the word translation.
similarlll indicates that this is a
111
and all other passages, such as the chyliferous, lymphatic,

salivary, and other ducts, which pour out liquids suitable
to the animal economy, as well as the perspiratory pores of
the skin. Thus, through gladness, all paths of communica
tion are opened. Moreover, in a state of gladness, a pleasant
and delightful tremor, a vital heat, light, and presence of
animus is diffused around the common external and internal
sensory. This living tremiscence and light is manifestly ex
hibited in the face, in the eyes, in the speech, and in each
single action. Hence also the cerebrum is rendered tranquil,
is refreshed and vivified, and at that moment returns, as it
were, into the state of its first youth and innocence. In ad
dition to this subtle contremiscence, there springs up also a
vibration that is more manifest, namely laughter; for the cere
brum leaps and oscillates, not unlike as do the lungs, the
trachea, articulate sounds, the face and the joints of the body.
This is called laughter. The gladness is an affection of the
internal sensory, but the laughter pertains to the common
sensory or cerebrum, and it cannot exist without ·an in
most gladness of the internal sensory and the reflection of
its intellect. Hence it cannot exist except in man, since, for
its existence, the mind must perceive the cause of the glad
ness, and must see a present happiness or foresee a future.
Then, from inmosts, it breaks out into a tremulous effect. In
a state of gladness, inasmuch as all things are loosened and
free, the animus is prone to all kinds of vibrations, and to
actual reciprocations, such as the rhythmical measures of
song, dancing, and the tossing of the limbs. The first de
gree of gladness is to be content with one's lot; the second
is hilarity; the third is gladness; and the fourth, which is
also the ultimate effect, is laughter and the tossing of the body.
SADNESS
202. (6) Sadness, which is also called distress and grief
of the animus, is the general displeasing affection; for all dis
pleasing affections sadden. Its causes, generic and specific,
are all disharmonies, which are discordant, that is, are not
in accord with our sensories, especially with the internal sen
112
THE ANIMUS AND ITS AFFECTIONS 202
sory when it discerns or apprehends misfortune, unhappiness,

the extinction of its life or the destruction of its body. Sad
ness compresses the cerebrum and constrains the animus, cast
ing upon it fetters and bonds, as it were, and depriving it
of its liberty. In the countenance, this constriction of the
cerebrum and anxiety of the animus COme to view both in its
sensory organs, these being likewise compressed so that tears
are forced out, and in the whole body, which, previously ex
panded, is manifestly contracted. When the beds of the cor
tical substance have been closed by the general constriction
of the cerebrum, each internal sensory is also constricted and
loses its freedom of action; for in this state the one com
presses the other. The cerebrum then becomes heavy and
grows torpid; the blood is impeded from flowing freely through
the smaller and more minute vessels; and the purer blood
or animal spirit is denied its course through the glands and
fibers, whence come cacochymia, ataxia, atrophy, melancholy,
and the causes of many diseases. In extreme sadness, not
only are the cortical beds and the medullary strata of the
cerebrum, cerebellum, and medullas oblongata and spinalis
constricted, together with the fibrous and vascular canals both
of the cerebrum and of the body, but also the pores of the
cranium and of the bones, and likewise such passages as
the chyliferous and lymphatic ducts, and all others which
pour out liquids for the service of the animal economy; and
if these liquids are squeezed out, they are not worked up
in accordance with the use of the kingdom. Thus, through
sadness all ways of communication are partially closed.
Moreover, in a state of sadness, the common sensory and
also the internal are occupied by an unpleasant torpor and
stupor, by cold, shade, absence of animus and mind; and
this torpor and shade comes to manifestation in the counte
nance, the eyes and the speech. Hence the cerebrum be
comes beclouded and obscured, as it were, contorted, injured,
destroyed, and the animus extinguished or sunk into a cheer
less old age before its time. In sadness, the cerebrum suffers,
and the several ducts, being pressed down, yet strive to rise
up. Hence arises weeping and wailing, which is the oppo
113
site effect of laughter. The sadness is an affection of the in

ternal sensory, while the weeping is an affection of the external
or common sensory, that is to say, of the cerebrum, and this
cannot exist without an inmost sadness in the internal sen
sory, and reflection by the latter on an unhappy state and
on misfortunes present and to come. Hence it cannot exist
except in man, nor can it come from any other source than
a mixed intellect which is ignorant of the future. The first
degree of sadness is, not to be content with one's lot; the
second is a kind of latent anxiety; the third is the sadness
itself and grief of animus; and the fourth or ultimate degree,
being the effect, is weeping, wailing, and inaction of the muscles
of the body.
LOVES IN GENERAL
203. (7) Of affections of the animus there are many spe

cies. These are called loves, as, for instance, venereal love,
conjugial love, love of parents toward their children or storge,
friendship. These several loves are so many conjunctions,
connections, and consociations of parts with their general;
for to live without love is to live as a part, dissociated from
its general. In order to live, every part must draw the con
dition of its living from the community, that is to say, it
must live in the company of many parts. To its members,
a society is their very form of living. Thus the nature of the
life of its individual members comes from the form of the
many, that is, of the society. Without connection, a single
life is relatively no life. In order, therefore, that it may be
something, loves are granted us whereby we may be con
nected, and by means of which we may regard our companions
as our own selves, as though united with us and not sepa
rated. Therefore, there are loves of the body, such as9 the
venereal; loves of the animus, such as conjugial love and the
love of companions; loves of the mind, of the intellectory,
and of the soul. From the above it follows that, properly
speaking, love is vital heat itself and the very force of life;
• Reading ut for seu (or).
114
for, without love, all th~ngs wouM grow torpid and become
extinct.
VENEREAL LOVE
204. (8) The act of venereal love is the actual conjunction

and union of two bodies into one. Its most deeply laid up
cause is drawn from the soul and the pure intellectory, which
regard effects not as effects but as ends. Their ends are
the existence of society and the procreation of its members,
namely, members of an earthly society, which is the end of
the pure intellectory, and members of a heavenly society,
which is the end of the soul. The rational mind is what per
ceives and understands these ends, partly from itself and
partly from things revealed; the animus merely desires the
effect; and the body carries it out. How great is the desire
of this end in the soul and the pure intellectory is mani
festly apparent from the delights of the body and its incite
ments to this effect.
205. (9) The desire of venery is aroused by objects 'Jf the
five senses, namely, by beauty and loveliness presented to the
sight, by a like form and charm described by speech which,
through the hearing, passes over into so many objects similar
to the visual, and likewise by the objects of the three senses
of touch, by kisses, embraces, etc. Thus the love increases
in its progress. In this venereal affection, being a pleasing
affection and the chief of those that allure, the cerebrum or
common sensory expands and is joyfully tremiscent, and the
animus, in consequence, is exhilarated; the internal sensories
and motories are determined into a state such that they en
tice and draw out all the spirit which lies enclosed in the
blood, and promptly pour it forth through their medullary
fibers and the nervous fibers of the body; and the intellectory
liberally pours on a new life and soul; for in this state, that
spiritual essence is conceived, born, and put forth in abund
ance, which is to serve for the conceiving of a new offspring.
A state similar to that of the cerebrum redounds to the whole
body and its sanguineous and fibrous system, which unani
mously conspires to this effect; for the animus infused into
115
the body is such as it is in the cerebrum; all other paths of

transpiration are opened; and, throughout the entire circuit
of the body, effluvial exhalations flow in and break forth in
abundance. By reason of the· above, after the effect comes
lassitude and torpor; for all the better blood is despoiled of its
spirituous essence, and the purer blood flows to the sensories
that it may be discharged into and through the fibers and,
finally, into the members of generation. Moreover, in the
act, the fibers themselves are fatigued by the tremulous vi
brations; the intellectory pours forth all the vital spirits
whatsoever that it possesses and conceives, for it expends its
entire self on the new man who becomes2 that same self, as
it were, by whom it continues itself and its own life, and
runs through all the ages of the earth. At the same time,
through the open pores of the cuticle, it expels the better
exhalations now rejected as superfluous. Hence come deli
cious ecstasies, pleasant swoons of the interior sensories which,
however, in persons of more adult age are succeeded by tem
porary impotence and a kind of sadness and chills of the
blood. Within the act itself, which is an act of the body
alone, is pleasure, and this pleasure is conceded without the
end of procreation when it is aroused by superfluous seed
collected in the vesiculae, and so flowing out from a cause
which is merely of the body, for the sake of its discharge.
So far as it is aroused by the animus, it is without this
end, and is a cupidity which looks to the pleasure of the
body; for of itself the animus exercises all acts in the body
without any end since it merely sensates and acts, but does
not perceive, understand or will. But when this love de
scends from the rational mind, the act must rightly be re
garded, not as a mere effect, but as an end. If it is regarded
as an effect, that is, as mere pleasure, it is lascivious lust,
for the mind then descends to the side of the animus. If,
however, it is regarded as an end, this is a sign that it descends
from the pure intellectory; for the pure intellectory does not
regard any effect of the body as an effect but as an end.
• Reading fit for sit.
116
The end is the multiplication of the members of earthly so
ciety, the continuation of one's own life by means of a pos
terity that it may pass over into another self, and also some
times the necessity of preserving the health of the body.
This is the reason why brute animals act from this same
principle and this same end; for their soul is of the nature
of our pure intellect, and so looks to and desires, not spiritual
ends, but only natural, that is to say, not a heavenly society
as does our soul, [but only an earthly].
HATRED AND LOATHING OF VENERY
206. There are some who loathe venery from nature, and
some who loathe it from principle or reason. As regards
those who loathe it from nature, either [1] their pure intel
lectory holds society and its multiplication in hatred, and
to themselves they seem to be a society all alone; within
such men is pride and an immoderate love of self; or [2] their
mind and animus are not affected by loveliness; such men are,
for the most part, sad and morose; or [3] their blood is too
hard and cold, and their spirit and its generation too sparse
to suffice for a use like this; such men are old before their
time; or [4] their organs of generation labor under some de
fect; such men are impotent. But those who shun it from
principles regard all venery as unclean and unallowed, and
its exercise as a casting away of spirits and of the better life.
This is called chastity and is the highest virtue. Thus, the
principles are either spiritual or natural.
CONJUGIAL LOVE
207. Love is a spiritual word, harmony a natural. They

are mutually correspondent. Love begets conjunction, as
also does harmony; for things which are harmoniously con
cordant are conjoined of themselves and their very nature.
Genuine conjugial love begets the conjunction of two beings,
not only in body and animus, but also in mind. The causes
of love between consorts are manifold, indeed, all the causes
that nature could possibly contribute concur with it. There
is conjunction of bodies which is strengthened and increases
117
by mutual delights. There is likewise conjunction of minds

(animus) , whence comes a mutual desire for the same de
lights. There is conjunction of rational minds which, by
living together, are more closely united; for the affections of
the mind are changeable, inasmuch as the actual forms of
rational ideas and consequently, the mind thereof, are ac
quired by use and cultivation. Minds finally grow together
in divers ways and from innumerable causes. The principal
cause is the contemplation and desire of the same end, that
is, of offspring in marriage, and then the mutual and unani
mous love of both consorts toward their offspring. A further
cause is also the consent of both in regard to other ends
which the one or the other desires; that is to say, that the
one bows to the wishes of the other. In nature, if there is
to be a one, the active and the passive must concur; that is to
say, if the one is passive as the other is active, then the two
together are a one. This one is called a pair of consorts or
a marriage. Furthermore, nature has ordained that the wife
is of a passive disposition, and the husband of an active dis
position. Moreover, this is favored by freedom, which is the
highest delight of the mind and the principal essence of
every pleasing affection; for the greatest freedom ~xjsts when
the mind and will of the one is that of the other. The mind
is then as though left to itself, with the favoring grace that
it is communicated to the other. These and many other
things affect minds and unite them, and this in such way
that when venereal love and the pleasure arising from the
unition of bodies 4 ceases, the unition of minds remains. In
time, moreover, this affects the pure mind itself, being the
mind of the intellectory. Hence arises a union still more in
timate, which surpasses any unione; of the rational mind, and
becomes such that it cannot be expressed in terms, an that
is derived immediately from that pure fountain, that is, from
the intellectory, being inexpressible in words. If, moreover,
a spiritual end is likewise desired by both, then their souls
'Reading corpOTum for corporis • Swedenborg first wrote friend
(body). ship.
118
also are inmostly united in respect to their operations. Hence

arises heavenly life on earth, and one can well believe that
the souls of the two will be consociated in the heavens. But
such marriages and such loves are not entered into and per-
fected by chance but by the peculiar providence of God.
CONJUGIAL HATRED
208. Hatred is the opposite of love. The nature of love

is not learned from itself but from its opposite, as neither
is harmony except from disharmonies. This is the reason why
disharmonies must be interposed between harmonies in order
that the animus may be the more pleasantly affected by the
latter; but, to put them together in suitable fashion is the
work of science and art. Thus the quarrels of lovers do
not beget hatred. Genuine conjugial hatred does not at once
disjoin two as to their body and animus, but it gradually
disjoins them as to their mind which is changeable. Hence,
as from their origin, their animi are disunited and conse-
quently, their bodies, and then desires vanish away, together
with the delights thereof. The causes of hatred and disjunc-
tion are many. The principal cause is that suspicion of in-
fidelity which is called jealousy. When this rules, the love is
not believed to be mutual and, on the part of the husband,
the offspring is not believed to be an offspring common to both;
thus the love of offspring does not join them as to animus and
mind. Among the causes are also all dissensions in regard to
other ends which are loved and desired by the one or the other.
There is an added cause if the one is not complyingly passive,
according to the order of nature, but both act in a domineer-
ing way. Thus, since the mind and will of the one is no longer
that of the other, both are deprived of that freedom which is
the delight of the mind, and in its place comes servitude or con-
tempt or hatred. These and many other things disunite minds,
and this to such an extent that when venereal love or the
pleasure of the body has ceased, it is followed by aversion.
Moreover, in process of time, these things affect the pure mind
of both, being the mind of the intellectory. Hence arises un-
dying and deadly hatred, and this becomes such that it can-
119
not be expressed. This is a hell on earth, and one can well

believe that the souls of the one and the other will be tor
mented like two Erinyes and Furies in Erebus. 6 Such sepa
rations and diabolical divorces of minds seem also not to arise
by chance but to be permitted by a provident Deity for the sake
of the gravest causes. From conjugial love and hatred, con
clusion can be made as to the nature of the intermediate mar
riages which partake more or less of the one or the other; for
there are innumerable intermediate states, and they fill the
whole world.
LOVE OF PARENTS TOWARD THEIR CHILDREN, OR STORGE. 7
209. As to its origin and essence, the love of parents toward
their children is utterly distinct from all other loves. The
mind and our rational intellect is profoundly ignorant as to
whence it draws its origin, and for this reason it is called an
instinct, being present in minds by nature and of itself. Brute
creatures have it in common with the human race, -and in
them it is very often more ardent, being so strong that it
conquers the love of self and gives courage to the timid. It
is a kind of sympathy; for whether the offspring is one's own
or another's, provided it is believed to be one's own, there is
the like ardor, and this in beasts equally as in man; nor is
there any reciprocal and mutual love on the part of the off
spring. That love, therefore, is said to descend, not to ascend;
for in the parent it is natural, but in the offspring it must be
acquired. All other loves, such as conjugial love and love to
ward companions, are insinuated into the animus by way of
the senses, and from the animus into the rational mind, but
this love is insinuated into the mind by the soul by way of
the pure intellectory. Therefore, the origin whence it flows is
unknown; for what flows down from the pure mind into the
rational mind is not revealed to our internal sensory, 'since
• In Greek Mythology, Erebus office it was to torment shades
was the dark underworld through which had committed crimes on I '
which the shades passed into earth.

Hades. It was the dwelling place 1 Storge is a Greek word signify
of the three female divinities, ing parental love.

called the Erinyes or Furies, whose
120
the pure mind cannot unfold itself by verbal forms. This is

the reason why, as said above, whether the offspring be one's
own or another's, provided our rational mind is persuaded
that it is one's own, the love is the same. From the effect of
this love, it is clearly recognized that within us is a superior
and purer mind which contemplateB and, at the same time,
desires more universal ends, ends to which the whole of nature
conspires. These ends, being purely natural and being com
mon to brute animals as to us, can be no other than the
propagation of the race and of a new society, and the continu
ation of earthly life through other selves in which it is reborn;
for [the superior mind] strives to produce a colony, and to
transfuse its whole soul into some new body. The venereal
love described above [no 204] amply declares this. That pure
or superior mind most clearly knows that the soul of the off
spring is taken from the soul of the parent, and so a single
soul is transcribed into many bodies. Of this our rational
mind is indeed ignorant; yet, from the ardent effect of this
love, and from its desires, it knows that it still loves to live
most closely conjoined with its offspring, and often to such an
extent that it is indignant at not being able to be reunited,
which it vainly tries to be by the closest embraces, by cud
dlings and by kisses. Thus in this love are concentrated the
love of self, the love of perpetuating one's life, and the love
of society, of which it is a part, being, indeed, the chief part.
In man are likewise concentrated in this love, in that it de
scends from the mind of the pure intellectory, the love of self,
the love of perpetuating one's life, and the love of society;
but, in that it descends from the soul also, whose mind is
spiritual, there is added the love of eternity and the love of
heavenly society, of which the whole of earthly society is to
be a part. From the above, and also from living and out
standing proofs, it is clear that the human soul is a superior
essence and form, and that the soul of brutes is .of the nature
of our pure intellect.
In process of time, this love of parents toward their children
decreases-more tardily in the human race, and more rapidly
in the various species of living creatures; for each individual
121
offspring puts on and acquires a countenance, animus and

mind of its own, unlike those of its parents. Thus they are
dissociated by nature as soon as the proprial brain of each
offspring takes on the relationship of parent to its own body.
But since the ends which are desired are visibly present in
human minds, therefore the love still remains so long as it is
the love of the end. This, moreover, is the reason why the
love of parents toward their grandchildren takes still greater
increase; for the fact that, with the mediation of the parent, the
soul of the grandfather passes also into the grandchildren, is
evident from the likeness of grandparents and their ancestors
as revived in· their grandchildren.
LOVE OF SOCIETY AND COUNTRY
210. There are small societies, larger societies, and societies

of the largest size. A small society is that of a single home or
single family. A larger society is that of a single province,
a single dominion, a single kingdom or empire. The largest
society is that of the whole world. Earthly society is called
the world, in like manner as heavenly society is cailed heaven.
There are, therefore, as many worlds as there are earthly
societies, and as many heavens as there are heavenly societies.
The love of society is both natural and acquired. Living alone,
that is, living without society, is not living; for whatever is
one's own is known as one's own only from others and rda
tively. Our inmost delights are not delights unless we are
persuaded concerning our own delights from the delights of
others. Moreover, no desired ends are attained without means,
and so neither are ours without associates and their help, nor
those of our associates without the support of the community
of which we are parts. Thus it is nature herself that implants
this love and conjunction, and urges us to it. When purely
animal, this love is a maximum love of self and of one's own,
a lesser love of one's associates, and a minimum love of so
ciety. If the love descends immediately from the mind of
the pure intellectory, it is a maximum love of society, a lesser
love of one's associates, and a minimum love of self. There
is here an analogy as of the whole world to its parts or part.
122
If the love is spiritual, that is, of the soul, then the love of
heavenly society is above the love of all earthly societies, that
is, of the whole world, and above this is God who is Love itself.
211. Our minds are rational, that is to say, are both natural
and spiritual simultaneously. Natural or purely animal minds
set themselves and their own above all other associates, these
above society, and the world above heaven. But spiritual
minds put themselves in the lowest place, and in a like place
every neighbor whom they love as themselves, while in the
highest place they put God, and, intermediately, all others in
their proper order. This is the excellence of our mind, being
true magnanimity, wisdom, honesty, virtue, felicity, and re
ligion. Such men are the heroes of their age, the Essences,
Powers, Virtues, and Constellations of the world. A society
of such men is the City of God. The Roman Empire abounded
in examples of this love, and therefore, by the special Provi
dence of God, the whole world was subjected to it. Such men
are also born today, but they are held as miracles. This is
acknowledged by everyone as the bare truth. Who is there
that does not, with songs of praise, exalt to the stars Quintus
Mucius,s Horatius Cocles,9 Scipio Africanus the Elder,! Cato,2
Octavius,3 the Gustavi, the Caroli,4 and many others, and is
• Probably Qui n t u s Scaevola (202 B.C.) subsequent to the lat
Mucius. As Proconsul of Asia, his ter's unsuccessful attack on Rome.
government was held up as a pat Although fallen into disgrace dur
tern of justice. Cicero lauds him ing his last years, yet, after his
for his eloquence and learning. death, he was regarded by the
• Publius Horatius Cocles, who Romans as a pattern of virtue, in
stood at the end of a bridge and nocence, courage, and liberality.
opposed a whole anny while the • Cato, a Roman writer distin
warriors behind him took success guished for his morality, equity,
ful measures for the defence of and wisdom. He died 150 E.C.
Rome. When the bridge was de • Augustus Octavianus Caesar,
stroyed, though he was wounded, the conqueror of Antony and the
he swam the Tiber and rejoined second emperor of Rome. He is
his comrades. He is called Codes extolled by Virgil, Horace and
because he had only one eye. Ovid for wisdom, justice, and
1 Publius Scipio. He was called equity.
A/ricanus because of his notable • As to the Gustavi and Caroli,
victory over Hannibal in Africa see n. 226 note.
123
not amazed at the divine something within them? Who is there

that does not profess and display a like animus, and put him
self among the lowest or in no place, to the end that he may
secure glory and the favor and applause of a whole company?
It is therefore a matter of art thus, for the sake of self, to
feign magnanimity, wisdom, honesty, virtue, religion, and be
ing a man above men, while setting oneself among the highest.
212. There are as many forms as there are societies. The
whole human race, that is, the world, constitutes the universal
form; empires and kingdoms, less universal forms; the duke
doms of empires and the provinces of kingdoms, forms still
lower, and families and homes, the lowest. By nature, every
man is bound by the love of that of which he is a part, thus
by the love of his own country above all others; and, in de
fending its form, when it clashes with other countries, he
defends himself.
LOVE TOWARD COMPANIONS, AND FRIENDSHIP
213. All love is natural, but all friendship is acquired love.

The love between married partners is from nature, but that
which is acquired through mutuar consociation is called friend
ship. The feeling of parents toward their children, and of
others toward their kindred and relations is love, but that to
ward others who are not conjoined by blood is friendship.
The love of society and of one's country is also called love,
inasmuch as it is connate. Between equals and unequals is
love, but between equals is friendship. The feeling of inferiors
toward superiors is called, not friendship, but veneration, and
this easily begets love; for veneration of superiors is natural
and is present within every love. But there are many causes,
natures, and degrees of friendship. The general rule is that
friendship is brought about by similarity of manners, that is
to say, of animus and mind. The animus, which is the ex
ternal state of the mind and pertains to the cerebrum alone,
regards, not ends, but only the pleasures of the body. It is
not affected save by an equality of condition, age, sex, fortune,
countenance, and actions. The friendship thence resulting is
that of infants, children, adolescents, and also of such adults
124
ae are ruled more by the animus and pleasures than by the

mind and the desires of rational ends. Moreover, it is very
frequently the case that in pleasures comes the first friendly
contact, it being from externals that we judge internals. But
friendship from rational causes is brought about by those ends
to which both parties aspire, it being from these that judgment
is made concerning the similitude between them. So far, there-
fore, as we desire ends, so far do we love associates and con-
sorts who promote them; for ends and means, the latter being
all the intermediate ends, go hand in hand. Ends are corporeal
and purely natural, or rational, or spiritual. Pleasing affec-
tions are themselves ends. Thus, with the honorable, these
ends are honorable; with criminals, they are criminal; with
kinsmen, they are friendships, and so forth. In friendship,
moreover, it is requisite that the one be active and the other
passive. If both are active, there is conflict such as exists be-
tween the morose, the irascible, the envious, and the avari-
cious. Furthermore, friendships vary in their nature, there
being a sincere friendship and a pretended; there is also friend-
ship mingled with hatred. Very often we hate the animus
and manners ofa man, but love his mind and will, that is, the
man himself, and vice versa. Indeed, we sometimes desire not
to live with a man who is loved, and to live with one who is
not loved. It is our paramount affection and dominant love
that is the measure of our friendship toward another. Thus
it is apparent how rich a subject friendship is. The general
rule ought to be, that all men must be loved and at the same
time their vices hated; that is to say, that even enemies must
be embraced with love, but not with friendship; for love is
natural and pertains to the pure mind itself and to the soul,
while friendship is acquired and pertains to the animus and
the rational mind. The ends of the soul are spiritual, and
the first of them is eternal felicity. When individuals agree
in these ends, they are already regarded as companions whom
nothing binds save love. Thus, the love will be a love of
souls, howsoever inimical the minds. Without this spiritual
love, there is no divine love; for souls are consociated together
by this love only as they are directed to this one end.
125
HATRED 5
214. Hatred is natural and acquired. Natural hatred is

the opposite of love, while acquired hatred is the opposite of
friendship. As love is a pleasing affection, gladdening the
sensories, restoring the bloods and animal spirits with new
heat, light, and life, and refreshing the several parts of the
body, so hatred is an unpleasing affection, making sad the
sensories, infesting the bloods and animal spirits and de
priving them of their better life, and destroying the several
parts of the body. The animus is then straightened and the
cerebrum compressed, being exhilarated, calmed, and ex
panded solely by the misfortunes [of those who are hated].
Like as love is the conjunction of animi and minds, so
hatred is their disjunction; and, like as love is life and heaven,
so hatred is death and hell. Disagreements, discords, and
disharmonies make one with hatred. Were heaven and earth
to fall, this would be the supreme delight of supreme hatred.
But of hatred, both natural and acquired, there are many
causes, natures, and degrees. The causes of natural hatred
spring from the state of the pure intellectory and of the soul,
there being as many diverse states as there are souls and
intellectories; for spiritual essences and forms are more or
less perfect and imperfect, there being the best and the worst.
In the former, rules love and harmony; in the latter, hatred
and disharmony. Those in whom love rules, are heavenly
essences; and according to the degree of their love, they are
nearer and more pleasing to the supreme love, that is, to God,
and are happier. But those in whom hatred rules, are in
fernal essences; and according to the degree of their hatred,
they are further removed from God, the more unpleasing
to Him, and the more unhappy. Acquired hatred, on the
other hand, arises and takes its increase from that dissim
ilarity of animi, and dissension and collision of minds, de
sires, and wills, which is evidenced by the ends in view.
• [Note added later by the Au red of truth. See on Envy and
thor:] Hatred is not privation of Reven(Je [nos. 26772].
love, but is love of evil, thus hat
126
All ends which are desired are pleasing to minds. From dis-
sension, contrariety, and opposition is begotten hatred. If
there is to be love, one must yield while the other acts. On
the other hand, the opposition of the one to the other pro-
duces hatred. As love of an end is the measure of friend-
ship, so opposition to that same end is the measure of hatred.
All else that is deserving of observation in respect to hatred
must be drawn from the description of loves [no 203 seq.],
hatred being the opposite of love.
LoVE OF SELF, AMBITION, PRIDE, ARROGANCE
215. Ambition is not a love but is something superadded

or adjoined to love, and were it separated from love, the love
would not be active but passive. Love is seen to be the life
of the mind or of the animus, for without love there is no
mind, and so no animus. Ambition, however, is the force of
that life, or the ardor of testifying to the love of the mind.o
Love is, therefore, the passive, and ambition its active. Hence
it follows that there may be as many ambitions or kinds of
ambitions as there are loves. Thus there is ambition in con-
jugial love, in the love of parents toward their children, in
the love of society, and in the love of self. This is the reason
why ambition is very often taken for love, inasmuch as love
and ambition taken together constitute the mind and animus,
that is, the life thereof. Now, since ambition is adjoined
to love as bridegroom to bride; and since there are more or
less perfect and imperfect loves, that is, those that are vir-
tues and those that are vices, therefore there are mOre or
less perfect and imperfect ambitions, that is, those that are
virtues and those that are vices; for ambition draws its es-
• An earlier draft of the above, an ardor, as it were, or a spiritual
written upside down on the next force, testifying to the love; and
page of the MS., reads as follows: so much so, that if love is the life
"Ambition is not love itself, nor of the animus or mind, ambition
is it the love of self, but it is is the force of that life. Thus
something united to love, and if love is the life, as it were, of the
they were separated, the love animus and mind."
would not be active. Ambition is
127
sence and nature from the love to which it is joined or be

trothed. Ambition is a vice, or is spurious when adjoined to
the love of self, but a virtue or legitimate when adjoined to
the love of society.
216. Vicious or illegitimate ambition, which is adjoined
to the love of self, desires the highest things, and however high
it climbs, it aspires to climb still higher, taking increase as
it goes. The things it desires are chiefly dignities, supreme
honors, the riches of the world, and even heaven as subject
to itself. Thus the ambition of Adam remains deeply rooted
in the nature of his descendants, and each one of them, being
a child of the earth, yet in mind is ambitious to occupy
heaven. By means of fame, he strives after the omnipresence
of Deity; by universal management, its providence; by power
over a kingdom, its omnipotence. Nay, he even lays claim to
omniscience, being unaware that there is anything of which
he is ignorant, and thus persuading himself that what he
knows is everything. Thus ambition obstructs the way to
wisdom, and opens it to ignorance. Elated by ambition, he
regards himself, not as a part in the universe, but as the
universe itself; and at the very least, considers that the uni
verse exists on his account, when yet he is an exceeding small
part thereof. The smaller the part, the greater does he seem
to himself; for ambition is conjoined with contempt for all
outside oneself, though this is cunningly concealed. In his
own sight he is the all. He becomes angry at every word
which hurts his dignity and glory, while at every word which
exalts him, even if to the stars, he smiles and is inmostly
delighted. Such ambition is, for the most part, natural and
connate, and it takes increase with the favor of fortune. This
is an indication of a perverted state of the pure intellectory,
the form of whose intellectual ideas or truths is inharmonious
and opposed to the order of nature; but as to the nature of
the soul, of this it is not for us to judge. In the rational
mind, where it is a kind of insanity joined to ignorance, this
heat of affection is what is properly called ambition; for in
every idea it contemplates and admires self and the image
of self. In the animus or common sensory, such ambition
128
is called pride, and in the body, arrogance which is the effect

of the pride and elation of the animus, and shows itself in
ridiculous gestures, a supercilious look, the affecting of titles,
the pomp of attendants, courtiers, servants, carriages and
horses, superfluous adornments of dress, and in many other
ways which provoke laughter. Because it is a force and 7 an
ardor, and because the affection within which it is, is pleas
ing, such ambition gladdens and expands the sensories, both
internal and external, the cerebrum, the fibers, the arteries,
the ducts, the viscera, and the body. Hence it is called a
swelling, and the man is said to be puffed up. Thus, when
all is favorable, it naturally restores and refreshes the state,
infusing new life, as it were. Nevertheless, it is like a beauti
ful wax figure filled with rotten filth. On the other hand,
if perchance it fails of hope and fortune, it falls into childish
wailing, or senseless folly, or sickness, or insanity; for the
ardor of the animus is extinguished; or else what remains is
fury. But of this vanity, there are many causes, qualities,
degrees, and differences.
217. On the other hand, that ambition which is adjoined
to the love of society and of country is a virtue, that is to say,
is legitimate. Such ambition gives birth, never to pride,
still less to arrogance, but to humility and contempt of self.
The man regards himself as the least part of the universe, and
is inmostly gladdened/at being able to perform so many offices.
He longs for great offices, and attempts things sublime, not
for the sake of self, but for the sake of the public good. To
himself he is of no account; to him the country is everything.
If he longs for dignities, if for riches, if for wisdom, it is to the
.end that, having command thereof, he may the more fully serve.
He turns away from illegitimate ambition as from a plague.
Thus the nature of the ambition is known from the love, that
is, from the end. Such a mind denotes a most perfect state of
the pure intellectory, whose ideas are so many heavenly
verities; and at the same time, a state of the internal sen
sory corresponding to the intellectory. Thus it is natural
T [Crossed off:] ardor of the love of self.
129
rather than acquired. If imbued from principles, it is rarely

so acquired as to be constantly active, unless it is continually
deprived of its own natural ardor, and so is accommodated
to the influx of the supreme mind.
218. Supereminent or spiritual ambition which is proper
to the soul is that which is adjoined to the love of heavenly
society. This regards its glory and felicity as being, not in
itself, but in the love of God and in His kingdom which it
ardently desires to promote. It is humble, an adorer of the
Deity, a despiser of self; but the less it is to itself, the greater
it is before God. It is for this end that such zeal has been
granted to souls, and such ambition to human minds.
HUMILITY, CONTEMPT [OF SELF], DEPRESSION OF ANIMUS
219. There is natural humility .and acquired humility;

also internal humility, being humility of the mind, and ex
ternal humility, being humility of the animus and body.
Natural humility arises from contempt of self. Consequently,
it is an affection contrary to illegitimate ambition, that is,
to the love of self, and is wholly conjoined with love toward
others. For this reason it deserves to be called legitimate am
bition. So far as we recede from love of ourselves, so far
do we enter into love toward others as though they were all
superior to ourselves, and more excellent. Properly speak
ing, it is borne witness to before superiors, and so is a kind
of veneration; for love toward, .-superiors is manifested by
veneration, being veneration itself. In this respect, humility
is a virtue. If it is innate or natural, it draws its roots from
the pure intellectory; and if from the soul, it is a testification
of love toward God, and is the annihilation of self by con
tempt and, consequently, is the height of religion or adora
tion, and the imploring for grace. From the adoration, which
is an act of humility, is known what the love is, and how
great. The reason why humility can be a testification of love
toward others who are actually superior to oneself and more
perfect, or who are deemed to be superior, is because it is
natural. That the love of another and the operation thereof
may flow into it, it behooves us to extinguish the heats of
130
our animus and our mind, and to reduce them to some pas-
sive state. Then it is the love of another that operates with
our own love, and is that active principle which must be
within love if it is to be the heat of our life. This is the
reason why humility is the cause of the conjunction of the
minds of others with our own mind, and is the verimost
OrIgIn of benevolence. Without this state of our mind,
Divine Love can never operate into us. On the other hand,
spurious ambition, by its activity, turns back all influx and
wholly extinguishes it. There is no affection that so greatly
approves of this virtue and extols it, as does vicious 8 or il-
legitimate ambition; for such ambition, preferring itself to all
men, demands humility of all. Not so God. He demands
this humility, not from love of self, but from love toward
the human race, to the end that we may be disposed for the
reception of the operations of His love and grace. Nor does
He demand glory for His own sake, He being in His own
glory, and being Himself glory, to which nothing can be added
by our glorification, but because the bearing witness to His
glory is adoration, and this is of a nature like our veneration
toward superiors, whereby we declare our love.
220. The humility which is acquired, that is acquired
humility, takes its origin, not from nature and inclination, that
is, from principles implanted in our pure intellectory and
soul, but from principles acquired by means of the reflection
of our mind based on our own experience or on that of others
who teach us. If we put faith in our masters, and ourselves
acknowledge a truth as already ascertained, there arises a
principle from which are acquired either virtues or vices.
Thus, if we are imbued with truths, especially with the truth
that illegitimate ambition and the love of self are vices and
an impediment to the communication of the loves of another,
and especially of a superior, then, so far as the love of self
recedes, so far there succeeds in its place love toward others
and the reciprocal love of others toward us, and, consequently,
• Reading vitiosa for vitium.
131
humility. With the passage of time, this humility, deeply

rooted in principles, passes over into the pure intellectory
and becomes natural, as it were, and is transferred to our
descendants as an inclination. This is the origin of natural
humility. This humility is also called internal humility.
221. External humility is humility of the animus and body
alone, and not of the rational mind; for even though the love
of self and a spurious ambition be implanted in the mind,
and the whole internal sensory, that is, our rational intellect,
be occupied by that love, there can still be an outward sim
ulation of humility, contempt of self, love toward others, to
ward society, nay, and toward God; in a word, honesty and
virtue. So likewise there can be a simulation of vices, of
the love of self, of contempt of companions, etc. Such humil
ity is called external, inasmuch as it is outside the mind and
is superficial, as it were. For the mind is a superior or in
terior animus, to which are subject the intellect, judgment,
and choice and, consequently, the will. This mind, to which
belongs the will, can hold such sway over the external or in
ferior animus and consequently, over the body, and this by
art, that nothing of the mind appears in the countenance;
for to every affection correspond definite facial expressions,
forms of the body, gestures, and actions. Thus the cheerful
expression of humility effigied in the countenance of the lover
and the beloved, is not, as it were, their own state, but is
wholly the other's. Venera~ion and a certain yielding and
obedience show forth in the"form of one's actions, in the tone
of his speech, and the form of his words. But extreme
humility breaks out into tears, into a bodily state which we
commiserate; we are prostrated, we cry aloud that we are
nothing; we beat our breast. In the body, these are the natu
ral effects of humility, and when humility is implanted in
these signs, it flows forth spontaneously. We are also taught
to simulate these signs.
222. Depression of animus is both a virtue and a vice. It
exists as a virtue when humility is acquired from principles,
that is, when the love of self and spurious ambition are ex
132
pelled from our mind. Then at once comes the ambition of

serving others and obeying them, that is, of suffering ourselves
to be acted upon by others. The love of self and ambition,
that is to say, this animus, is also depressed through sickness,
disease, misfortune, anxieties; but these are matters of Divine
Providence. On the other hand, depression of animus exists
as a vice, from the sudden extinction of its heat or spurious
ambition, th~ love of self still remaining without its heat and
without any possibility of coming into act. Force or violence
is then brought to bear upon the organs, especially upon the
internal organs, and from them upon the external and cor
poreal organs, and the depression breaks out into weeping,
despair, frenzy, sickness, disease, insanity, sorcery.
HOPE AND DESPAIR
223. When we strive for and desire that which we love,

and impossibilities are interposed against our attaining the
effect or end, this state of our desire is then called hope, and
this is seen to be within the will, regarded as a conatus which
resistances prevent from breaking out into act or motion.
Thus hope is an affection, not of the mind, but of its will;
for the will is ever striving to act, but it does not act so
long as it is resisted. Meanwhile, it is affected by some hope
that it may yet be balanced between inaction and action.
Thus hope belongs, not to the animus, but to the rational
mind, inasmuch as it belongs to the will of that mind, and
so is proper to man and not to brute animals and irrational
creatures. Hope grows and takes increase just so far as im
possibilities or resistances recede or are removed; and for
their removal there is need of prudence and skill. In itself,
however, hope is greater or less according to the degree of the
love of the end for which it strives and which it chooses, and
according to the desire therefor. Hope, therefore, has regard
to aU ends that are desired. Thus it belongs to all affections,
these being ends. In this way, hope is a continuation of life,
that is, of loves and also of their heat, that is, of ambition.
The supreme hope, however, is hope in God, to whom nothing
133
is impossible. Hope, therefore, is one of the three spiritual

virtues. 9
224. Despair exists when we banish hope. Then, with the
end, love also and ambition, that is to say, the life and heat
of the mind, collapses and is extinguished, as it were. Hence
depression of animus, the effects whereof have been described
above En. 222]. In general, these effects are divers kinds of
insanity, being sicknesses of the mind; divers imbecilities, be
ing sicknesses of the animus; and divers diseases, being sick
nesses of the body.
LoVE OF THE IMMORTALITY OF FAME AFTER DEATH
225. Love of the immortality of fame, or name as it is

commonly called, is pr~sent in all individuals naturally, as is
evident from innumerable indications. Who is there that, for
the sake of his name, does not desire a funeral pomp and
procession, and take measures for the construction and erec
tion of a tomb that it may be a monument which shall ever
remain after the death of his body? Who is not gladdened
at talk and whispers, and affected by blandishments of which
he is as though unaware, when it is said that he will secure
immortal fame and will deserve the gratitude of posterity?
Nay, he prides himself, and, by a kind of instinct, all society
applauds him, if by his words he imparts the persuasion that
he is intent on serving, not himself, but posterity. He thus
gains the glory of being a great man. These and many other
proofs are a clear confirmation that the love of our own im
mortality, that is, of the immortality of our fame or name,
is implanted and connate; and consequently, that it is one of
the truths which are within the pure intellectory. Unless both
the soul and the pure intellect were conscious of it, such a
love could never exist in our rational mind. And because
it does exist therein, it follows that the statement that we
are to live after the death of our body is a truth. But our
• The reference is probably to but the greatest of these is char
Pauls words: "And now abideth ity" (l Cor. 13: 13).
faith, hope, charity, these three;
134
rational mind does not of itself apprehend this, and, being
ignorant of the origin of this love, it denies even its existence
-an existence which is denied with greater ardor by minds
which regard, strive for, and desire only natural ends; for
within our rational minds is both what is natural and what is
spiritual, and when the one predominates, the other is suf
focated. Nevertheless, when they long for illustrious obse
quies, it still remains like fire under a glowing spark.
226. This love, however, and the ambition of the love,
is supereminent, and is both a virtue and a vice. It is a
virtue when it aspires to the immortal name of virtues, of
honesty, and of meritorious services to society and one's
country, and still more when these are of service, not only
to present society, but to every future society; for if there is
innate love toward society and one's country, then necessarily
that which extends to all posterity is the greater love. Such
a love or ambition is a virtue when not conjoined with any
love of self. The love is purer if it desire, not that one's
name shall live, but that one's office shall live, and the pub
lic benefit thence resulting. Such are the heroes of the world;
for they despise all the glory of deeds and merits, yea, are
averse to them, but from their inmost conscience are glad that
they have been instruments of the happiness and safety of
their country, and that this is known only to heaven, to
eternal essences, and to God, to whom they thus draw near
in spiritual similitude, as it were. Moreover, that after the
death of their body, such souls are allotted, by the other souls
with whom they must needs have an immediate communica
tion of spiritual affections, a certain heaven, not only within
themselves, but also outside themselves-this, faith and reason
itself forbid us to doubt; but of these matters elsewhere.
Internal men such as these despise all that fame of name
which comes from monuments, palaces, buildings, statues,
amphitheatres, graven titles, etc. Indeed, they are averse to
them; for the things to which they aspire are far higher, nor
can they be compared with these lower things. On the other
hand, this love is a vice when it has been extinguished and
there is none within but it is simulated as being within, to
135
the end that the man may insinuate with the credulous pub
lic an estimate of his deeds, as having been done from some
purity or truth. It is also a vice when the love of self and
a spurious ambition are supereminent. In such men, more
over, it is naturally wont to rule, but the end is renown, not
of virtues, but of self; as in the case of the man who burned the
Temple of Diana in Ephesus. 1 Without this love, however,
no one would love his offspring, since in that offspring he
would not see himself reliving as an immortal. Nor without
it would a man, from any love, fight for his country, go to
meet death, or love himself as a sacrifice, whence comes true
heroic virtue such as existed in our Gustavi and Caroli. 2
For the most part, the Divine Providence conspires with them,
to wit, that they attain their wish.
GENEROSITY, MAGNANIMITY. WHAT THE LOVES OF THE WORLD
AND THE BODY ARE. 3
227. The animus is called generous and great, the more it

is raised above things worldly and corporeal and so, the nearer
it is to things heavenly and divine. By the animus is here
meant the superior animus or mind, and therefore, this ani
mus is called divine. This animus esteems corporeal and
worldly things as respectively nothing, inasmuch as they are
mutable, inconstant, perishable, transitory, devoid of life,
things which are to be of no account save only as instruments
of life to which a value is assignec.l according to their services.
But heavenly things it esteems as the only things, the sole es
sentials, things which reany are, things perpetual, eternal,
verimost felicities.
1 The reference is to Erostratus IT Adolph. (1594-1632), Charles IX
or Eratostratus, an Ephesian who, (1560-1611), Charles Gustaf X
in 355 B.C., in order to immortal (1622-1660), Charles XI (1655
ize his name, burned the magnifi 1697) and Charles XII (1682-1718)
cent temple of Diana, reckoned as -all of whom greatly distinguished
one of the seven wonders of the themselves by their bravery in
world. battle.
S The heroic kings of Sweden, • This last sentence was added
Gustaf I Vasa (1496-1560), Gustaf after the chapter had been written.
136
228. In the strict sense, worldly things mean the earth and
the universe with its orbs, moons, sun, and stars; and also,
more specifically, all things which are in the earth and its
threefold kingdom. Even human societies are called worlds,
and every individual in the society a microcosm. Thus world
ly things are the riches and possessions, etc., of the earth.
In themselves these belong to the soil, but in society they are
called goods which shall be of service to life. Corporeal
things, on the other hand, are those which soothe only the
body and the animus, as, for instance, the sensations of touch,
taste, smell, hearing, sight, that is to say, all the pleasing
affections of these sensations; also dignities and honors, etc.,
which are disregarded when it is merely things pleasing to
the body and animus that are sought after. These are called
loves of the world, cupidities of the animus, and pleasures
of the body, because the blood and the external organs are
affected by them. Our rational mind is like the tongue of
a scale between corporeal things and spiritual, or worldly
things and heavenly. One scale belongs to the body and the
animus, while the other belongs to the pure mind and the
I
/
soul. If the weights of the corporeal scale prevail, then
spiritual ~nd_~a\,~nlY..thing~e f almost no weight, and
so their scale is raised. But if the other scale prevails, then
7
". worldly and corporeal things are of no weight. Thus do we
balance between heaven and the world. Naturally, the
weights of the corpilLeal. scale prevail, inasmuch as we are
conscious of its delights, that is, are manifestly affected by
r the sensation of things corporeal. The things on the he~'(E~!11y
I scale, however, are not weights but mere forces, and these
) prevail because their delights are ineffable, infinite, eternal,
( and are inmostly present in the above-mentioned weights; thus
from the mere idea of their supereminence.
229. One who is magnanimous scorns in his spirit and mind
all things worldly and corporeal, and values them only from
their use in promoting things which are superior. Thus he
values taste, not on account of the flavor, but because by the
flavor it shows the quality of his food and makes him ap
petize it. He values the me!odies of song, musical harmonies,
137
an agreeable sequence of words, and the like, not on account

of the pleasantness of his affection, but because they revive
his body and preserve the health of his mind. He values
the loveliness of fields, meadows, colors, the starry theatre
of the universe, not as delights in themselves, but because they
cheer and restore the mind, and give it the possibility of
understanding, and the opportunity of judging universals and
actual truths from singulars; and, moreover, of admiring and
adoring the Maker of such a world. He values riches and
possessions, not as ends, but as means to higher ends; and
so also dignities and honors. He who regards all the above
merely as things of service and as instrumental causes, in
themselves dead, and who venerates only things superior as
abstracted therefrom, is magnanimous,. and he who confirms
this in fact is generous. For the whole of nature was so
created that as an instrument she may serve life and the
spiritual essences to whose dominion she is wholly subject.
230. The love and the ambition themselves declare who
it is that is magnanimous and generous by nature; and the
magnanimity and generosity show the nature of the love
and ambition. There are in general only two loves, namely,
the love of the body and the world, and the love of heaven
and the Deity. The love of self and a spurious ambition
proclaim a love of the body and the world; and contempt of
self, or the love of serving the public, and a genuine ambi
tion, proclaim a love of heaven and the Deity, or, at least,
that the man is pressing on the path that leads thereto. From
these loves is known who it is that is truly -inagnanimous
and generous. But there is also a magnanimity and gen
erosity that is simulated, to the end that it may be the means
of obtaining things corporeal and worldly.
231. Thus, magnanimity is not an affection but is the
actual quality of the animus and mind; for from it,4 judg
ment is made as to the quality of the animus, and to what
loves it inclines.
• Reading ex illa for ex illis (from them).
138
THE ANIMVS AND ITS AFFECTIONS 232-233
PUSILLANIMITY AND FOLLy.li
232. Pusillanimous is opposed to magnanimous. There

fore, what pusillanimity is, becomes evident from the oppo
sites of magnanimity; and what folly is, from the opposites
of generosity. A pusillanimous man is neither his own master
nor of sufficient intellect to elevate his mind, but is capri
ciously borne to either side, as fancy, presumption, and per
suasion draw him. He lingers in things more sublime only
for a moment, and at once lapses therefrom into lower things
and becomes immersed in his body. On the other hand, a
foolish man absolutely despises things superior, and embraces
things inferior with his whole animus and heart. These he
considers to be the only things and the all, and the others to
be entities of reason. Thus he is an animal and a brutish
man. The :r:est can be drawn from the description of mag
nanimity and generosity [no 227 seq.].
AVARICE
233. Avarice is the love of riches and of earthly posses

sions, but its nature is learned from its end. It is natural
to love wealth in the degree that those ends are loved for the
attainment whereof wealth is the means. Wherefore also it
is natural for brute animals, and even for certain insects, to
collect and store up the necessities of life for the coming winter.
And because money is the universal medium of promoting
and attaining both intermediate and ultimate ends, it is called
the sinew of business undertakings. This is not avarice but
is prudence in the providing of
means, or it is a human provi
dence granted by God, especially if the love of the means
does not exceed the love of the end. But it often goes be
yond this j for worldly and corporeal loves, such as the love
of dignities, of honors, of ruling; the love of vanities and of
ostentation; pride and the love of pleasures; never halt their
pace but take new increase at every step. The love of pro
viding for one's own, extends not only to the end of a man's
• vecordia, lack of understanding, ness, folly.
perverted understanding, senseleSEl
139
own life but to the life of all his descendants, hence also of
his grandchildren; for parental love, ever breathing out a
perpetual something, increases toward grandchildren and great
grandchildren. So in a like degree increases also the love
of riches, that is, of the means to this perpetual end. There
are, moreover, superior loves, the means to which is wealth,
as, for instance, the love of cultivating the earth, of defend
ing one's country, of preserving society. Wherefore the great
est care of a prince is that his kingdom shall have an abund
ance of riches. Wealth also serves as the means for certain
spiritual ends, such as exercising the works of charity, giv
ing aid to the needy, promoting and propagating divine wor
ship, building churches, and many other things. Now, since
money is the medium of so many ends, being well nigh the
universal medium, and since everyone has his own loves,
desires, and ends, it follows that a love or valuing of money
rules throughout the whole world. 6
234. But if wealth is not sought for the sake of ends, but
for the sake of the possession itself; that is, if it is regarded,
not as a means, but as an end; then it is the avarice which
is called sordid and is the folly characteristic of a vile ani
mus. The regarding of wealth as a pure end is against nature
herself, and against the principles of all reason; for what in
itself is a means cannot be an end. The reason is, because
in money men see a possibility of attaining all ends, and so
in potency see all their loves. The mind takes greater de
light in the contemplation of its loves than does the body
in their execution or even in their pleasures; for contempla
tion can be more or less constant and peI:petual, while pleas
ure is inconstant and comes to an end after the act, as in
venery. Therefore, pleasures are ascribed to our imagina
tion; for from the like loves the life of the mind is in its
vigor. Add to this, that in avaricious minds all these loves
-because the possibility of all-remain, and from them is
"[Crossed off:] But for the for the sake of an end insinuates
most part, acquisition and posses such a love that at last wealth is
sion degenerate into a species of regarded, loved, and desired as the
avarice; for the valuing of wealth end itself.
140
aroused a universal idea which is the more pleasing as it is
the more universal. Such seems to be the cause of avarice.
This is further confirmed from the seat of this affection. Its
one and only seat is in the rational mind. It is not an affec
tion of the superior mind, inasmuch as it is never a natural
affection, but is acquired in course of time, and increases with
old age, to wit, in the degree that corporeal loves recede. It
is not an affection of the animus, inasmuch as it is not an
affection belonging to the body, and the cupidities of the ani
mus and the pleasures of the body are inseparable.
235. How great a sickness, insanity, and irrationality of
mind, avarice is, and how utterly sordid, can be sufficiently
apparent from its effect; for the more deeply enrooted it is,
the more are all other loves dulled and extinguished. When
perpetually occupied by this idea, the mind is suffocated, as
it were, and is immersed, not in the body, but in the earth;
thus it is not possible that it can be elevated toward things
superior, or that the spiritual can flow into so gross a natural.
Thus it is a matter of indifference what god an avaricious
man worships, even if it be Plut07 himself; for he adores
his god that he may bless him, that is to say, may bring
him new wealth; but in his own mind, he adores his treas
ures as his Deity, and in them he sees every possibility, provi
dence, power and glory. Thus tacitly he wholly denies the
divine. All love of society is wholly rejected from the mind
of a miser, and so likewise friendship, and also the love of
those who are his own, which yet is an utterly natural love.
Scarcely does the love of his own body remain, this being a
love of the earth; for he despises all desires, because all pleas
ures, as being costly; and 'also honors, and the fame of his
name, persuading himself that potentially he possesses all
the honors in the universe. Thus what rules him is the su
preme love of self, he believing himself to be the universe,
and not a part of the universe. Thus he places among the
virtues nothing but vice, such as injuries inflicted upon his
• It is Ptutus the blind son of with PIuto the god of the lower
Jasion and Ceres who was the god earth.
of riches, but he is often confused
141
associates, plots for reducing whole houses to extremities, and

innumerable like things.
236. The above observations must be emended, as they
have not been deduced from their origins. s
PRODIGALITY, LIBERALITY, CONTEMPT OF WEALTH.
237. Prodigality arises from divers causes; for a prodigal

is either over ardent in desiring ends, or desires none at all;
or he regards present things only, and not future; or he does
not know that wealth is the means of attaining ends; or he
believes that wealth win pile up of itself and spontaneously;
or he is prodigal that he may display a generous mind; or
he believes that wealth should be despised as being an incite
ment to evils. Thus prodigality is a vice and also a virtue.
When it is a vice, it is properly called prodigality, but when
a virtue, liberality, being a kind of generosity and mag
nanimity, and when a supereminent virtue, it is called con
tempt of money. Prodigality is a property of the animus
and not of the rational mind. Thus it is wholly different
from avarice, even as to origin. That it is a property of the
animus and not of the mind, is clear from the genius of a prodi
gal. He has no care for the future, but for the present, and
he lives for the day. Moreover, he is either over ardent for
pleasures as ends, and therefore indulges his genius, that is,
merely his animus and cupidities; or he is not kindled with
any desire for an end, being thus a stock or without sense; or
else, like an adolescent youth, he is ignorant of the fact that
wealth must be acquired with care as the general means to
ends. All this indicates that it is the animus, not the mind,
that is prodigal.
Liberality, being for the sake of an end, and the end quali
fying the means, is also either a vice or a'virtue. It is a vice
if it is for the sake of the loves of the world and the body,
and if it is ostentation. It is a virtue if it is for the sake
of superior loves, such as the works of charity.9 Wealth is
8 No. 236 is a note inserted later regarded as a loan. It is a super
by the Author. eminent virtue if riches are re
• [Crossed off:] and wealth is garded as so many allurements,
142
then regarded as a loan received in trust for its administra

tion, and which is to be disbursed and returned. The de
spising of money, if not simulated, is a supereminent virtue;
for the despiser abominates money in the degree that it is a
vice, an incitement to evils, and a perpetual allurement, the
possession of wealth being ever inseparable from an idea of
the delights and pleasures of which it is the promoting means.
That which is to be, and that which may be, the mind be
holds as present and being. Therefore, all the loves of the
world and the body that are present in idea, it beholds as
though they were in act. Thus the possession of wealth is
a perpetual incitement and a universal allurement. The mind
then descends and spreads outward into all things natural, to
wit, into things mundane and corporeal, and it is impossible for
it to lift itself up therefrom to things superior, heavenly, and
divine. If money is despised for this reason, then, as was
said the despising is a supereminent virtue.
COMPASSION l CHARITY.
238. Among men, some are compassionate from nature,

some from practice, some from causes purely moral, and some
from principles of reason. Compassion from nature or, what
is the same thing, from the pure mind and the soul, flows
from an innate love toward others. Thus, it coincides with
love itself, of which it is the first effect, charity being the
second; for love regards another as its own self, and so has
compassion on others as though itself were in misery. Love
toward one's consort, one's children and kindred, that is to
say, toward one's own, produces compassion, and this charity,
the extension of which is equal to that of the love. Love to
ward society and one's country, and love toward the human
race, which is more universal, being most universal when to
ward the whole human race, past and future, is purer and
more perfect than the former love and produces compassion,
and this again charity toward all. From this love, men are
inciting to evils, and as causes it is called contempt [of riches].
bending the mind downward from 1 Misericordia, here translated
supreme loves to lower. But then compassion, means also mercy.
143
called neighbors spiritually, while naturally those are called

neighbors who are more or less near or remote, it being nature
alone that admits of degrees. Thus compassion and charity
are not conjoined with the love of self and spurious ambition.
Compassion, therefore, is the virtue of virtues. Such love is
not possible without its effect. Therefore, from the charity
and the mercy, these being the effects, predication can be
made concerning the love and, consequently, concerning the
state of the mind and soul. Compassion from practice emu
lates compassion from nature, for it passes over into a quasi
natural compassion, since with the passage of time, it imbues
the mind with the principles of love. Such compassion is
properly a moral virtue, being present in the will, not of
itself, but from us ourselves; and we contribute to it in the
degree that by application, instrumental causes contribute
to the influx of the principal cause. Compassion is also con
ceived from causes purely moral, and by practice is acquired
and so is born, being born from principles concerning virtue
and compassion. But this compassion supposes a non-intel
lectual faith. Therefore it is insinuated by practice from
obedience, faith not being under our control. Compassion
from principles of reason is derived either from a spurious
love or from a legitimate love. As to that derived from a
spurious love, that is, the love of self, a man who is a lover
of himself is never compassionate, for he does not love others
as himself. Nor does a man who hates, ever have compas
sion on him whom he hates. Moreover, no one hates another
as another, unless he loves himself; that is, he hates because
of causes opposing his love of self. Yet external works of
mercy can flow from principles of this same love, that is, the
love of self, that is to say, the man may appear to be chari
table, compassionate and a lover of others; for, being con
scious of the fact that these are virtues, the very love of self
impels him so to appear that thus he may be called a great
man. He may also so appear from principles, to the end that
others may have compassion on him if perchance he should
come into misery; but then his charity is exercised toward
the rich, to the end that he may be remunerated, and such
144
charity is void of mercy and love. Compassion from princi

ples which concern a legitimate love supposes an intellectual
faith; that is, it supposes that the man, being persuaded,
knows that compassion is the effect of a pure, celestial, and
spiritual love. The principles of the mind are so many ra
tional truths, for everyone believes his principles to be truths.
239. The effect of compassion is, in the mind, anxiety;
in the animus, sadness; and in the body, at times, weeping
together with a pitiful tone of voice; the picture of compas
sion also appears in the countenance. Thus the effects of com
passion and of sadness coincide. But the compassion is such
as it is in the man himself when he himself suffers; for he whom
he pities is his other self.
240. The objects of compassion are innumerable. The
general object is poverty and unhappiness. There are also
those who pity others their opulence and dignities, in that
these are regarded as causes of unhappiness and as incite
ments to vice. Everyone pities a miser. There is poverty
in things worldly, in things intellectual, and in things spiritual.
What poverty in things worldly is, is well known. Poverty in
things intellectual is ignorance, haziness in respect to princi
ples or to opinions concerning truths, foolishness and insanity.
Poverty in things spiritual is weakness or absence of faith,
a cold love of the Deity or no love at all, and so no char
ity from the soul of charity. Each of these three kinds
of poverty is also unhappiness. But judgment concerning
poverty and unhappiness belongs to our rational mind, and
therefore choice and application are so various, there being
as many varieties as there are minds; for with him whom we
pity, there is always some intervening correspondence of prin
ciples. This application, therefore, is not natural but acquired.
FEAR AND DREAD.
241. Nothing is more natural than to protect one's essence

and life, and when one is, to wish to continue to be, and to
be with that with which one is in connection by means of
form. When the soul, which is a living essence, has united
to herself a body and has furnished that body with sensory
145
organs that she may take note of all that endeavors to de
stroy it, then, at every assault which brings injury, even by
disharmony, she grieves, is saddened, alters and shrinks. It
is this alteration that is called fear; for in fear the fiber con
tracts and withdraws into itself; it becomes hard and so
resists without sensation. The blood is expeUed from the
arteries, causing the heart to palpitate, and the animal spirit
from the fibers. The muscles are deprived of their motive
force, the sensory organs of their perceptiveness. Cold and
pallor occupy the face and limbs; they feel cold and shiver.
The animus, deprived of its cupidities, falls down extinct.
In the mind is an image of death. Thus fear is a kind of
extinction of the mind and animus, and a forerunning death,
as it were, of the body, for the effigy of death stands out in
the body.
242. Since the life of the animus, and the life of the mind
consist of pure loves, because of affections, it follows that
we are apprehensive of and dread or fear the loss of our loves,
one and all; and since these loves are the ends of our mind,
we also fear every mediate and efficient cause of that loss,
that is to say, all things that bring any injury which we deem
to be mortal. Thus, in the degree that we love an end, so
we dread its loss and apprehend with horror its annihilation,
and likewise the annihilation of the subject in which that
end is; for there can be no love as an end unless it be in
some subject.
243. All fear, therefore, is natural, and its degree and
nature is as the degree and nature of the love or end which
we desire. Loves are indeed both natural and acquired, but
whether the love be natural or acquired, yet, when danger
of its extinction or loss is imminent, every love is accompa
nied by fear and alteration, and this from nature, this nature
being present in the rationar mind to which loves, desires, and
ends belong. The mind does not fear that which it does not
notice; and when it fears, it is impotent, that is, it is not its
own master, for it falls into a swoon.
244. Therefore, as many as are the loves, and as many as
are the kinds of love, just so many are the fears and the kinds
146
of fear. Everyone naturally fears for his body, whether he

loves himself above others or others above himself; for the
love of preserving the connection between soul and body is
innate with all men. Where there is connection and mutual
dependence, there is love. He who loves himself above others
fears more for his own safety than for the safety of others;
but he who loves others more than himself, fears more for the
safety of others than for his own safety. Thus, from the
fear we learn what the love is and its nature and extent. He
who loves his country more than himself, deems it a glorious
thing to die for his country, at any rate, for the fame which
is attached to this illustrious deed of honor. He who loves
his spouse, his children, and others above himself, goes to
meet death rather than see his loves extinguished. This is
also natural to brute animals, such as timid does, deer, hens,
and geese; for the mother fearlessly confronts an enemy that
attacks her young. He who prefers fame to life is fearful
for his fame, that is, he dreads its loss. They are magnani
mous with whom it is the renown of honesty and virtue for
which they are fearful. Hence it follows that fear for the loss
of a superior love inspires intrepidity in an inferior love.
A hero is one who, when his fame is endangered, the loss of
which he greatly fears, has no fear for the loss of the life of
his body. And that same hero has the greatest fear for his
body when there is no danger to his fame, and this to the
end that he may live for fame and for society.
245. He is devoid of reason who prefers the life of his body
to a life of fame, to honesty, virtue, society, his country, and
the human race. Still viler is he who prefers wealth and the
like to himself and his own life, as does a miser, the most timid
of all men and yet a fearless defender of his treasure, de
prived of which he, in many cases, brings death on himself.
The vilest and lowest of mortals is he who has no fear for
truth, for things sacred, for heaven, for the Deity, but solely
for his own life. The fears declare the nature of the loves
and which of them it is that one prefers to the others. 2 As to
• Reading alteris for alteri (to the other).
147
the nature of love in the past, and of the fear for the loss of
the love of God, this we learn from the martyrs. Sublime
souls, and souls already raised above mortal things, do not
fear to undergo death for the sake of truth, especially of
heavenly and divine truth. What they are fearful for is truth
itself, and its extinction. But our truths, excepting those
divinely revealed, are mere principles of the rational mind,
all of which we believe to be truths themselves. To be with
out fear of danger to life in defending them, that is, to go to
meet death, may indeed denote a sublime mind, but it may
also denote a mind that is insane. Such are the martyrdoms
of certain heretics, and of others like them, of whom history
makes mention.
COURAGE, FEARLESSNESS, IMPETUOSITY.
246. Courage is an heroic virtue,especially in war; and in

a battle it is conjoined with fearlessness and magnanimity.
There are many kinds of courage, all desirous of seeming
heroic. Vulgar minds suppose it to be revealed by mere fear
lessness and boldness; but genuine courage always reveals
itself more plainly and powerfully in the degree that the cause
at stake is nobler, higher, and more universal; and more lan
guidly in the degree that the cause is cheaper, lower and
smaller. Courage is at its height when the fearlessness is
greater in a smaller cause, and lesser in a greater cause.
Witless persons, misers and minds of the lowest sort, while
greatly frightened at the least whisper, are also fearless when
it is their own wealth that is to be defended; but in a pub
lic cause, they are terrified at the sight of a drop of blood.
247. Nothing is more difficult to learn and search out than
courage, as to whether it is genuine or spurious. Genuine
courage never turns into fear, whatsoever the cause at stake,
but instead of fear, it turns into anger, the anger then being
zeal and just resentment. Spurious courage inmostly con
ceals fear. Outwardly and superficially, it displays spirit, and
if it turns into anger, the anger is unjust resentment or fury.
Genuine courage is mild, suffering and merciful, even toward
enemies; but spurious courage is inflamed and becomes violent
148
even to cruelty. Genuine courage is present in the animus

and mind amid the greatest dangers of life, being the more
present and prudent as the perils are greater. At such times
spurious courage in the animus either melts away or becomes
fury, and the man raves as though bereft of mind, being be
side himself, as it were, and not self-contained. Genuine
courage is never joined to the love of self, but is the insepa
rable companion of the love of the many and of society above
one's self, and it takes increase with society. Spurious cour
age arises from an opposite principle, for the extreme love of
self aspires also after immortality of fame; but whether this
is from genuine courage or from spurious is discerned from
the fact that the former does not wish to be seen, while the
latter seeks to be seen by the whole world. Thus the nature
of the courage is learned from the character of the ambition.
Genuine courage is most closely conjoined with humility,
adoration, fear, and love of the Deity; but spurious courage
with arrogance, pride, envy, impiety, and contempt, hatred
or denial of the Deity. The greater the courage, the greater
the life; the less the courage, the less the life so that it may
almost be compared to death.
248. Fearlessness, which is an attribute of courage, is not
acquired but connate. Hence it is characteristic of a fam
ily, and descends from its ancestors, even to a remote pos
terity; for the brave beget the brave. Moreover, it is wont
to be natural to entire nations. Strictly speaking, a fearless
man does not fear the loss and extinction of the love or end
by which he is led, whether it be love of life or of fame or
of the country, but fearlessly defends these; for his animus
is roused up and enkindled at every assault, and this the
more ardently, the more truly brave he is by nature, and at
the same time the more moderately, the more threatening
the danger. For the fearlessness of true courage is conjoined
with presence of animus and of mind, and rightly discerns
dangers as to their nature, and takes counsel in the field.
Thus it acts either with ardor or with prudence according
to the state of the danger and of the possibilities. On the
other hand, fear, which is a contrary effect, and is likewise
149
natural, does not rouse up and enkindle the animus at the

presence of danger, but dejects and extinguishes it.
249. Like fear, fearlessness also, both being natural, is so
inscribed on the blood, the spirit of the blood, the organs
and the very body, that the fearlessness shows forth from the
countenance, the eyes, the sound of the voice, the breathing,
and the powers and actions of the muscles. Especially does
it show forth from the arteries of the body and the fibers of
the cerebrum, for these are stronger and more robust in the
fearless than in the timid, the strength of the whole body
lying in the arterial blood and animal spirit. This is the
reason why, to the brave, is ascribed a great heart and a
great animus, the latter belonging to the cerebrum. The force
of this blood and spirit is aroused from inmosts, that is to
say, from the superior mind or pure intellectory. Hence come
presence of animus and the cheerful light suffusing the mind;
the heat and fervor, as it were, of the blood; vigor in the
limbs, and some foaming in the cheeks and glands. An ex
amplar of this courage and fearlessness, Charles, the Hero of
the North, lived in our own age. With him it was a family
characteristic, for he derived it from his grand ancestors, the
Caroli and the Gustavi. He knew not what that was which
others called fear, and laughed at all threats of death. Thus
he lived a life, which also he is to live, far removed from
death, and superior to the fleeting corporeal life. Because
such souls have a divine quality, a singular Providence is
present and provides a life to which they themselves do not
aspire--immortal life even among mortals.
250. From cases of timid and fearful persons who some
times act as mighty men, and this, not by nature, but by de
sign and from a change in the state of their blood and spirits,
we seem to be persuaded that not all courage and fearless
ness is connate, but that there is also an acquired kind. For
intoxicating drinks, foods which produce a heating of the
blood, also fevers, manias, and insanities are wont to impart
a similar animus, and to elevate the mind, a5 it were, even to
the point of courage. This, however, is not courage but is a
150
violent ardor, which is in the blood, the body, the surface,

and the outer parts. Fear is still latent within, being deeply
stored up; and with the ceasing of this fermentation of the
blood, it returns. This very ardor, moreover, is a confirma
tion that courage and fearlessness are natural; for in such
persons this ardor is not aroused until the nature of the blood
and spirits is changed, and it ceases when that cause changes.
Everything natural, even if expelled by force, nevertheless re
turns. Moreover, with such persons no rational mind is pres
ent, from which springs true courage, this mind being inebri
ated; and as soon as the fear returns, then at the mere idea
of the danger now passed, the heart palpitates, the blood
rushes into the veins, the limbs collapse, and a cold sweat
breaks out.
251. On the other hand, of ones with whom fear is innate
but whose mind is imbued with the principles of virtues and
with loves, from which he ardently longs for a like nature, hat
ing his own because it does not correspond to his prayers-of
him can be predicated acquired courage, if, by the natural
means mentioned above [no 250), and which he regards as aids
for the resuscitation of forces which by nature are languid and
torpid, he excites and inebriates the blood, to the end that,
when a cause is urgent, he may be fearless and strong. This
courage is rather a moral virtue, in that it comes into the
mind, not of itself or as though by instinct, but from the
acknowledgment of a courage 4 which the man venerates in
others outside himself, and which he sees cannot be aroused
into actuality in himself save by means. For whatever the
mind does of itself is either a virtue or a vice; but whatever
it does, not of itself, but by nature, is neither a virtue nor
a vice until the mind descends to take part in it. This
acquired courage, however, being inconstant like the mind
which is ruled by principles, is never the equivalent of natural
courage.
I Reading quo for quibus. a truth), but the context indicates
• The autograph has veritatis (of that this is a slip.
151
INDIGNATION, ANGER, FURY, ZEAL.
252. To understand what anger is, and what its nature in

respect to the other affections of the animus, a comparison
must be made with affections which are purely natural and
are obvious to our sight; for there is a certain likeness be
tween them which we acknowledge as soon as stated. It was
observed above [no 215] that love is the very life of the mind
and animus, no mind or animus being possible without love;
and in what follows it will come to be established that the
intelligence of the mind corresponds to lumen, which is the
reason why to our intellect is ascribed light, clearness, shade,
darkness, and all else that pertains to lumen. It was also ob
served above [no 215] that ambition can be compared to heat,
for without ambition love is like life without heat. But zeal
must be compared to a kind of fire, for ambition without zeal
is like heat without fire. When zeal, that is, the fire of the
superior mind, passes over into the rational mind, which is
the lower mind, it is then caned by the vulgar, burning wrath;
but when it passes over into the animus, and from this into
the body, it becomes that corporeal and impure fire which is
called anger, the actual burning being called fury. From this
it is apparent that the beginning of burning wrath, anger,
and fury is in the soul itself and the pure intellectory, that
is to say, it is conceived in them or born from them; and
thus, that in its very fount, it is zeal or pure fire, naturally
mild, becoming actual when spiritual and natural truths are
to be defended; but that it comes forth impure by derivation;
for when the mind grows hot as with some zeal, it defends
its principles, being carried away by the love of them as of
so many truths, and attacks opposing principles. Hence come
philosophical controversies and disputes. In the animus, how
ever, this burning wrath of the mind bursts out into a kind of
fire or anger, and at length into a flame, whereby the whole
system, being the corporeal system, is set on fire; that is to
say, it bursts out into fury. This is apparent from the very
effect, in that it manifests itself by a sensible heat and fire;
for the blood is heated, the viscera burn even to their inner
152
parts, the membranes and extremities are inflamed, the breath-
ing becomes exasperated, and the sound of the voice hard
like air when it grows hot; the arteries swell in like man-
ner as do atmospheres when heated, and the senses, both
internal and external, are disturbed as though some fire had
stirred them from their natural equilibrium into a turmoil
of motions. Moreover, grosser incitements are added, being
ferments moved out of their place; to wit, heated bile, which
lies concealed in the gall bladder and is poured into the mass
of the blood, and from the dregs and hard particles whereof,
the more fluid and softer blood is roused up by external
stimuli into a similar heat. Thus there is no part, not even
the least, that is without its anger or heat.
253. Zeal, therefore, is a natural affection belonging to the
superior mind, that is, to the soul and the pure intellectory;
and this to the end that the soul may defend its spiritual
truths, and the intellectory its natural truths, and, may fight
against the falsities opposed to truths with increased warmth,
that is, with fire. For, granting falsity and truth, and grant-
ing evil and good, and granting that both have the force of
acting, that is, have life, then, if the enemies are to be re-
sisted, there must necessarily be zeal, that is, a heat increased
even to fire. This is the reason why zeal, which is described
as burning wrath and anger, is attributed to spiritual Es-
sences and to the very Deity; and also why everyone, when
he becomes heated and angry, ascribes it to a legitimate zeal
and a just cause in defense of truths. There would be no
such affection were there not an enemy. Anger, therefore,
is an evident sign that, in the spiritual and invisible world,
there is evil which must be opposed.
254. Our rational mind, which regards its principles as so
many truths, is also said to be enkindled with a certain zeal;
but since the principles of our reason are rarely themselves
pure truths, this zeal also is rarely pure. The burning wrath
arising from it is harsh and vehement, like the fire of lighted
coal which is consumed by its own fire. As to whether the
fire is pure or impure, this is learned from the love, and from
the several affections and desires of the mind, especially am-
153
bition, which is heat, and which most immediately stirs up

this fire. Such therefore as is the love or ambition, such is
the zeal or burning wrath of the mind.
255. As soon as this fire bursts out from the rational mind
into the animus, it falls, as it were, from the sphere of im
material ideas into the sphere of material ideas, and is called
anger, it being the animus that is said to grow angry. From
the animus the way inclines downward into the body; and this,
in agreement with the anger of the animus, becoming heated,
boils, takes flame and rages; for the whole animus is at once
transfused into the body.
256. Indignation, however, is a property of the rational
mind alone, being the first degree of burning wrath. Yet, in
indignation there are many other things which moderate, tem
per, and restrain it lest it break forth, fear, or some love, or
shame, or sadness, being so many restraints and resistances
which hold it in check.
PATIENCE, MEEKNESS, TRANQUILLITY OF ANIMUS, IMPATIENCE
257. What patience is, and what its nature, is learned from
anger, there being no anger where patience is; for as anger
can be compared with fire and flame, so patience can be com
pared with a kind of cold; as anger can be compared with
hardness (for elements like the elements of copper are hard
ened by fire), so patience can be compared with softness; and
as anger with the highest degree of activity, so patience with
passivity, whence it receives its name. G Thus patience is a
tranquil and serene state of mind, a state free from the storm
and turmoil of the affections of the animus.
258. Like anger, patience also is inscribed on the body.
Something mild and patient shines forth from the countenance
and from the very sound of the speech, while its nature in
the mind shows forth from the conversation. The face is
serene, smiling, even when others are angry. The blood is
softer and healthier; warm, not hot, and full of vital heat, not
thickened into fibres. The pulse is gentler and more regu
• Patience comes from patioT mfJeT action.
which means to be passive, to
154
lar. The bile is not black but yellowish. The arteries are
more yielding, the fibres somewhat soft, and the organs more
healthy and ready to obey the decisions of the mind; and,
in all things, if not elegance, there is still charm. In a word,
the several parts of the body are patient; for as is the mind
and animus, such is the state of the minute individual parts
of the whole body, the latter being formed after the image
and nature of its soul. If otherwise, it is a sign of a mind
changed by various accidents.
259. Patience, being a tranquil and serene state of mind
free from the turmoil of the affections of the animus, is the
mind's most perfect state. In this state, the mind is left to
itself; it has leisure for its own operations; it takes a more
profound view of its own reasons, forms its judgments more
soundly, and, selecting therefrom the truer, better, and more
suitable, remits them into its will, which is then not beset
by a throng of natural desires. Having thus almost complete
liberty, it holds the animus subject to itself, as though in
chains, nor suffers it to wander beyond the limits of its own
decisions. In this way it also rules the actions of its body,
receiving and contemplating its sensations more clearly and
intelligently. When the mind is thus left to itself, and its
ease is not disturbed by things corporeal and mundane, nor
by the heats arising therefrom, it joins inmost fellowship,
as it were, with its pure intellectory or soul, and suffers nat
ural and spiritual truths to flow in; for it is the corporeal
affections and cupidities of the animus alone that darken or
pervert the inteHectual ideas of the mind. From this it fol
lows that the mind, established in the state of its patience and
tranquillity, is cold in respect to the heats of the animus and
the resultant heats of the body, but most replete with love,
that is, with a purer and more perfect life. For if there is
to be any mind, it must grow warm with some love, and the
purer the love, the better the mind, because the better the life.
From this state the mind regards inferior and purely cor
poreal loves as childish sports, and as insanities which are
the more insane,.. the more they are believed to be wise.
Therefore, when it sees them, it qoes not become heated and
155
angry, but pities, grieves, forgives, strives to correct, rejoices

at success, and suffers injuries brought upon itself as a mother
suffers the injuries brought upon her by her child; for it em
braces all with a like love, while hating their vices. This
patience, although without anger, is yet not without that
zeal with which it defends truths, but with moderation. The
mind is never disturbed, still less extinguished by such a fire,
but is refreshed, this fire being harmonious with its nature;
for the more the rational mind is liberated from impure fires,
the more does it burn with a pure fire, which is mild, and
does not rage, but restores the state.
260. The patience which is the moderator of the passions
of the animus is rarely connate, for everyone has his own
inclination to certain affections of the animus; but it grows
with age and judgment, and is especially perfected by exer
cise, though, in the case of genuine patience, not without the
truths of religion and the principles of piety, nor without
violence brought to bear on the natures of the animus and
body. Even misfortunes are wont to be the causes of this
patience; and also diseases which curb the fervors of the
blood and spirits.
261. As to what impatience is, this can be inferred from the
description of patience, namely, that it is the property of a
rational mind which is desirous of an end in view,6 when that
end is hindered or intercepted by intervening obstacles, or
by ideas concerning impossibilities, these being so many re
sistances to the breaking of the will into act. Hence the ani
mus, which desires the end, is tormented, the body is distressed,
and the mind thinks single moments to be long delays. Thus
the more' ardent the animus, the greater the impatience, and
the more tranquil the mind, the less the impatience. It is
least with those who commit their lot to Divine Providence.
SHAME.
262. In shame, both the internal and the external sen

sories contract, and thus also the several fibers and the sev
• Reading finem for fines.
156
eral arteries; for, as is the state of the sensory, such also is

that of the fibers, and consequently, of the arteries. The
spirit is thus expelled through the nerve fibers into the motor
fibers of the arteries, and the blood from the larger arteries
into the capillaries. Hence the blushing and inflammation
of the face, the lowering of the eyes, concealment, stupor of
the sensations, cessation of the respiration and of the determi
nations of the will, that is, inaction; for, being compressed,
the sensory dare not lift itself up, as it were, but draws back
into itself, to the end that the mind may hide not only from
itself but also from others. For the shame is shame of one
self in that the mind is conscious of something disgraceful,
dishonest, or criminal. Therefore, when none but the mind
is conscious thereof, it is rarely shamed, unless by way of re
flexion on another that he also may know it. So, even when
no error has been committed, the mind can be suffused with
shame by reflecting on the contingency that it might have
been committed, or that something has been observed which
it alone knows. There is inner shame, both with the brave
and the timid. In the brave, the face reddens; in the timid,
it grows pale, in that a fear of loss arises. Shame, moreover,
so loosens the muscles of the face that they waver, as it were,
without any determining force.
263. Between fear and shame there is this difference, that
while fear causes the internal and external sensories to fall
as of themselves, half dead and breathless, shame causes the
mind spontaneously and as though from some innate force,
to contract its sensory and deprive it of the ability to change
its states; therefore, at that moment, before it collects itself,
every determination of the will ceases, and there comes forget
fulness of events.
264. The shame is greater in the degree that the mind is
more sincere and more a lover of what is honorable; for it
then fears to sin against the rules of what is honorable, and
likewise against the rules of that decorum which it 'believes
to be honorable. For there are those who do not well distin
guish between the decorous and the honorable, and who there
fore are smitten with shame in regard to both. But since
157
what is honorable declares itself by decorum, decorum being

the external of what is honorable, we are solicitous to observe
the rules of both. Shame is greater in the presence of su
periors than in that of equals; it is absent in the presence of
inferiors, unless the mind is a great lover of what is honor
able. Shame is also greater in the presence of those whom we
love and at the same time venerate; but when the love is
mutual, and instead of veneration comes pure love, there is,
as it were, another self, and the shame is no other than
shame for one's self alone. That mind is sublime which is
ashamed of itself even when no one is presentr-a sign that
inmostly it is led by a veneration directed to truth itself, to
honorableness, justice, and the other virtues, and that it looks
up to these as superior to itself.
265. There is little or no shame in those who despise and
loathe virtue, and deem no one to be superior to themselves;
likewise in stupid men and men of a coarse nature. These
therefore are the lowest of men; men without conscience and
the love of what is honorable; men who fee] no shame. Those
possess the most criminal mind who stand up with straight
forward gaze and uplifted eyes in the commission of crimes,
of which, whether committed or to be committed, they are
fully conscious; that is, in whom no least trace of mind 7
shines forth.
266. But because standards in respect to what is honor
able and decorous greatly vary, feelings of shame are wont
to be very different. That of which one person is ashamed,
has no effect upon another. Thus, feelings of shame undergo
their changes. We are also affected by the shame of others
with whom we have no familiar intercourse. This is effected
by the reflection of that shame in one's self; thus it flows
from some friendly relationship with ail men in general.
ENVY.
267. Envy is hatred mixed with anger, the anger being

concealed like the fire beneath hot ashes. Envy, therefore,
T Mentis. The context suggests pudoris (of shame).
that this is a lapsm pen1We for
158
is an inmost heat consuming the several parts; and when it

breaks out, it acts insanely. From this cause, the blood is
suffused and heavy with bile, thick, full of ramenta, dark in
color, and stagnant in the smallest pores, producing a livid ap
pearance in the face. The same fire also consumes and parches,
causing leanness. The gall bladder is perpetually engorged
a
with black bile, being continuous source of new bile which
is insinuated into the blood. In the countenance, moreover,
there is something black, and, concealed within, lies hatred
mixed with anger. The countenance does not shine as with
gladness, and something sharp is perceived in the speech and
discourse. The animus is ever dark and the mind sad, being
rarely uplifted and exhilarated; for it is scarcely ever af
fected by the sweetness of any harmony. The state of that
mind is itself inharmonious, and because of this, it loves
disharmonies as harmonies. Hence, the misfortunes, pov
erty, and miseries of others indulge and soothe it; nor is it
made glad by its own good fortune and happiness, unless
within these there be something of revenge.
268. Individual envy-namely, our envying another what
we ourselves love--as, for instance, a lover the bride, and
a competitor the honor of a rival, and so likewise in other
cases-is common to all men, and is most highly natural,
being found in tender infants and in brute animals and their
young. It does not extend beyond those ends which we love
and desire.
269. General envy, on the other hand, springs from a su
preme love of self; for it envies all men all things, and each
individual some particular thing. In imagination, it views
the universe as its own and as existing for itself; that is, it
imagines itself to be the universe and not a part thereof.
Moreover, it envies other men heaven; the devil envies God
His power. Thus, at heart, it is the enemy of all men. On
the other hand, he who is not a lover of self but a generous
man, is not envious. Further particulars can be drawn from
the description of hatred and anger [nos. 214, 252], if this
be consulted.
REVENGE.
270, Revenge flows from hatred and envy. Hatred is, .in
deed, the opposite of love; it is not, however, the privation
of love and thus of life, but is an opposing love. More espe
cially it is the love of evil; for there is a love of good and a
love of evil. The one is opposed to the other; consequently,
the one hates the other. Thus there is life even within hatred;
and if life, then also heat and fire. But the heat and the fire,
grosser and more impure and consequently, material and cor
poreal, is in the animus and not so much in the mind, unless
that mind be consociated with the animus of the body. This
heat of hatred is called the lust of revenge, and with the
addition of anger, such as the anger of envy, it becomes fire
and revenge. The lust of revenge, therefore, is a fire, being
the active principle of hatred, or the highest degree of its
activity, that is, of the activity of the love of evil.
271. Just as there is individual envy and general envy, so
also in the case of revenge or the lust thereof. Individual
envy is natural to all men, and so also is the lust of revenge.
Thus it is innate in the most tender infants prior to the use
of reason, and in all beasts, the latter being also furnished
by nature with weapons for the avenging of injuries brought
upon them. And because revenge is natural, it is also natu
rally pleasing; for it sets at rest the sad mind and gloomy
animus, and restoring their state, returns them to their
natural state, hatred being dissipated and envy extinguished.
The revenge is pleasing in the same degree that the hatred
and individual envy were pleasing. The lust of revenge, how
ever, is, for the most part, sad, unless the mind sees a possi
bility of obtaining the end; but with some the lust itself
exhilarates the animus.
272. Springing from the same fount, general lust of re
venge is similar to general envy, and so the like attributes
are suitable to both. The latter is always conjoined with
a spurious ambition, that is, with the love of self. The lust
of revenge is never conjoined with true ambition, that is,
160
with the love of good and of the universe,8 except for the pur
pose of the destruction of evil. For zeal and a just grief
give birth to revenge; yet love remains within the lust and
the revenge, for it wishes to destroy evil to the end that, after
the destruction, it may revive good. Such is the nature of
divine vengeance. The greater the love, the greater the de
sire to avenge evil; for the persuasion of love is that its ob
ject be like itself and connected with itself. Whatever, there
fore, hinders it from obtaining its desired object, this it hates
and consumes and yearns to annihilate. This is very often
conjoined with anxiety, pain, and unhappiness in the subject.
MISANTHROPY, LOVE OF SOLITUDE.
273. Misanthropy is properly a hatred of the human race,

or flows from this kind of universal hatred, and rarely from
jealousy, that is, from hatred mixed with anger; for the latter
breathes revenge, and revenge presupposes life in society.
Misanthropy is conjoined with contempt of the pleasures of
the body or the cupidities of the animus, or else with depriva
tion of the sensation thereof. There are misanthropes who
do not appear to be misanthropes because they possess an
animus desirous of pleasures, and this they cannot indulge
except in society and civil life, that is, by sociability. There
are also some who, led by the value they place on fame, do
not wish to appear as misanthropes but become such as soon
as this desire and this love of fame passes away. For the most
part, they are eminently lovers of themselves. This vice is
usually natural and inborn. Sometimes also it arises from
the unhappy outcome of some supreme love, and so from de
spair; for a supreme love induces the persuasion that what
it loves is the only and the all in the universe, and when this
is lost, it thinks that it has lost everything. In a society of
citizens, the misanthrope is considered as a nobody or as de
based; such also must he be considered since, by his hatred
he is separated from all men. Yet, if he separates himself,
he is somewhat more estimable than if among his fellow men;
8 Reading universi for universali.
161
for when In society, he injures others, but when alone, only

himself.
274. There are special and particular misanthropes, being
those who hold in hatred or aversion some special race, na
tion, family or persons. If they are misanthropes from hat
red, this comes from the causes of hatred; if from aversion and
this a natural aversion, their misanthropy is antipathy; if
from acquired aversion, it comes from some dissimilitude,
in principles and loves, whether fancied or real; this, more
over, can turn into an antipathy which remains with the man's
descendants.
275. The love of solitude is commonly believed to be
misanthropy, because the misanthrope loves to be alone. But
the love of solitude can derive its origin from a great many
other causes. It comes naturally from melancholy, in which
case it is a disease sometimes curable; for the man then in
mostly longs to indulge his fantasies; and he so far stretches
his fantasies that in thought, not in body, he is present in
each one of them. He also loves to be a recluse, who is
devoted to studies, especially the theoretical. He chooses
solitude, that his mind may not be distracted from those
studies, and he loves it in the degree that he loves the studies;
for if the mind is to have [eisure for study, it must be sepa
rated, as it were, from things which stir up the animus, the
bodily sensations, and all other loves of the mind. He also
is usually a recluse, who believes all things to be full of vanity,
and himself alone not to be vanity j that is, who longs to be
free from vanities, and therefore separates himself from so
ciety. This is wont to be the case with some philosophers
whose princes laugh at all things or weep at al1. 9 They who
• The reference is to Heraclitus tinually laughed at the follies and
(circa 300 B.C.) and Democritus vanities of men filled with cares
(circa 500 B.C.). The former was and ever alternating between hope
a recluse philosopher who spent and despair. Both philosophers
his time in weeping over the fol and their peculiarities are men
lies and weaknesses of mankind. tioned in Conjugial Love n. 182
The latter, who was likewise a fin, and True Christian Religion
recluse and also a materialist, con- n. 693 fin.
162
sacrifice themselves to God are recluses, not by nature, but

from purpose, lest they be drawn away by worldly allure
ments; as, for example, the Eremites. l The more illustrious
of them are those who bring force and violence to bear on
the cupidities of their animus, and thus on their body, doing
this with the intent of emerging as purer men, and more holy.
CRUELTY.
276. General cruelty is the love of destroying the human

race, and it derives its greatest delight from the anxieties,
griefs, and torments of mankind. It flows from general hat
red and misanthropy, and from a supreme degree of the love
of self; for the cruel man regards himself alone as the uni
verse, and those with him as hindrances, so that he is unable
to be the only one. It flows likewise from a supreme degree
of the love of the world, that is, of honors, and from a su
preme degree of the love of earthly goods, that is, of riches;
thus from general envy. It is especially opposed to mercy.
The nature of the cruelty, to wit, whether it is from the love
of self, from love of the world, or from love of the good
things of earth, and thus from hatred or envy of those who
possess what the man wishes himself alone to possess, is seen
from the face. This is the reason why cruelty often lies
concealed under a very honest face; but if exercised, it is wont
to pass over into a countenance of hatred and revenge, and
to end in madness.
277. There is cruelty in all revenge, for one desirous of
revenge loves that the man whom he hates shall be tormented
in animus and body, and this according to the degree of the
hatred; but revenge arising from zeal and just grief loves that
he shall be tormented in that this is a means of extirpating
evil, love toward the person still remaining. The cruelty is
similar, whether it flows from one's own hatred or from the
hatred of another person whom one loves as himself; and
'A name given in the early derness and gave themselves up to
Christian Church to those Chris a life of isolation and rigid as
tians who, to escape the persecu ceticism.
tion of Christians, fled to the wil
163
it ascends according to the degree of the love. He who kills

his enemies is not cruel; but he is cruel who vents his rage
on the vanquished and those incapable of doing him harm.
Therefore, such as the revenge is, such is the cruelty; such
as the hatred, such the revenge; and such as the anger and
zeal within the revenge, such the pleasure of the vengeance.
C3J.8-::. There is a certain correspondence between venereal
love and cruelty, that is, between the love of propagating the
human race and the love of destroying it. In themselves,
these loves are opposites, but in the phenomena of their
effects, they are concurrent, as is the wont with opposites
which concentrate, as it were, in some third thing; other
wise there could be no circle of return. As is well known
from natural history, both these loves titillate the sensory
organs, the fibers and members of generation, and promote
the seed. From this it is seen that the affection of cruelty
is as delicious to perverted minds as is venereal love to sound
minds, for the one does not extinguish the other but arouses
it. Such would be the nature of the devil clothed in human
form.
CLEMENCY
279. Clemency is the queen and deity, as it were, of the
virtues. To show clemency is, therefore, not only regal but
also divine; in other words, by clemency a king emulates God.
True clemency is devoid of hatred, self-love, envy, revenge,
anger, and cruelty, that is to say, devoid of any affection
naturally unpleasing, being always conjoined with love to
ward those to whom it is shown. Thus it is united with
tranquillity of animus, happiness of mind, and mercy. Love
is always clement, and from its clemency is learned the nature
of the love and to whom it is directed. If it be love of truth,
the clemency is coupled with justice; so likewise if it be love of
what is honorable and of the virtues, especially if it be love of
piety and veneration of the Deity. On the other hand, if it be
love of vices, falsities, vanities and impiety, the clemency will
be exercised in opposition to those by whose mutual love one
is affected. Such clemency is spurious and unjust. For the
164
most part, clemency like patience is natural; for one who is

clement cannot be cruel. Thus clemency is the opposite of
cruelty, and the character of the clemency can be seen from
the description of cruelty [no 276]. Moreover, when cruelty
is conjoined with fear there is also an acquired clemency,
but anguis latet in herba. 2 There is also a spurious clemency
and a legitimate. Thus clemency is a vice and a virtue.
INTEMPERANCE, LUXURY.
280. In general, intemperance means any excess in the de

sires of the mind, the cupidities of the animus, and the de
lights and pleasures of the body, the world and the good
things of the earth. Specifically, intemperance means that
excess in eating and drinking which is called indulging one's
appetite, sacrificing to Bacchus and Ceres, and caring for the
belly. Every love and pleasure is for the sake of an end
that we may live sound lives in a sound body. Therefore,
the earth abounds in all things in order that we may enjoy
them as means, not as ends. When we regard the several
loves and pleasures as means, we enjoy each one of them
in a temperate way, and in such measure that we obtain the
end; but when we regard them as ends and not as means,
then we fall into excess, and this the greater, the more ar
dently we love the end. Thus intemperance marks a per
verted, very limited, and material state of mind, being a
mind which confines its ends within narrow limits. But a
more sublime mind perceives3 that one thing is for the sake
of another, and that there is a chain of means to some more
universal end. Such a chain is the created universe, and also
the world, that is, terrestrial society. We ourselves are such
a chain, there being nothing in our whole body that is not a
means to some superior end. The ultimate end is the sour, it
being for its sake that there is a body. The soul, which
is the [ultimate] end of the loves of the body, is not the
most universal end, but is an intermediate to a more uni
• The snake lies hidden in the I Reading percipit for penetrat.
grass.
165
versal end; and we stop only with the Deity of the universe,
who is the end and the beginning of all things. Therefore,
there being nothing that is not an intermediate end, it fol
lows that intemperance is possible in all means that are taken
as ends; for, in themselves, all means are ends, being dis
tinct terminations, but they are intermediate ends or termina
tions. Therefore, to enumerate all species of intemperance,
and to describe their causes, natures, and effects, would be
again to take up all the affections of the mind, animus, and
body. From the description of these affections, anyone can
judge concerning the lack of them and the excess. This only
need be said, namely, that all intemperance is contrary to
nature, and that it brings violence to bear on nature and
destroys either our mind, our animus, or our body. Thus,
when these are ruled by the will, and the will by desire, and
desires by loves, not as means but as ends, we rush into so
many causes of destruction, whence comes the death of the
body. On the other hand, virtues, honesty, perfection, and
spiritual happiness can never be desired and loved intem
perately; for in the body we can never climb to perfection,
an infinite number of steps being ever left untrod. But spirit
ual intemperance is the desiring of a perfection more perfect
than one's own nature, as when the mind desires to be as
the soul, and the soul as God. [It should desire] only to
be most perfect in its own degree, and thus an image, type,
and likeness of the superior degrees. An inferior form can
never be raised to the perfection of a superior form, except by
a previous dissolution and death of itself. Therefore, so long
as we are desirous of a more perfect state, even though in
appearance immoderately, our station is always within the
limits of temperance; as when the mind is desirous of in
telligence and wisdom. Intemperance, therefore, is always
a vice and not a virtue.
TEMPERANCE, PARSIMONY, FRUGALITY.
281. From the description of intemperance we learn what

temperance is, namely, the moderate use of the delights and
pleasures of the body, that they may be means corresponding
166
ANIMUS AND RATIONAL MIND 281-282
to ends, and proportioned thereto. Thus intemperance prop

erly signifies excess, but it also involves lack; for there is
no lack of one thing except in relation to an excess in an
other. Thus a lack in the nourishing of the body indicates
an excess in the saving of expenses; and also, an excess of
avarice or of abstinence-and this likewise harms the body.
Temperance, therefore, is moderation in all things; but, as
regards its objects, it is always designated by different names.
Thus temperance denotes moderation in eating and drink
ing; parsimony, moderation in dispensing the riches and the
good things of the earth; while frugality has respect to domes
tic economy; so also in other cases. To resume: Since tem
perance is a natural moderation, it is conditioned according
to the nature of each individual; thus the temperance of one
is sometimes intemperance in another, and so forth. There
fore, the measure and balance of all the affections of the
mind, animus, and body, of which we have already treated,
is temperance, the preserver of them all, that in a sound body
may be a sound mind. In a word, you must seek to under
stand what is true and what good, and to regard all things
as mediate ends whereby you may come to the ultimate end,
continually asking yourself, "For what end1."3a
XIII
The Animus and the Rational Mind
282. In the science of rational psychology, nothing is more
difficult than clearly to understand what specifically the ani
mus is, and what the mind; and even if this is understood,
than clearly to set it forth; for the several operations which
are carried on in our inner sensories appear like a little
chaos, of which we do not distinctly see even the surface,
still less the parts, one of which adheres to the other as in
a chain. In a way it can be compared with an animalcule.
This we can hardly reach with the aid of the microscope, it
la [Crossed off:] Regnum affec ter heading-the kingdom of the
tionum animi et corporis-a chap- affections of the animus and body.
167
being from its motion alone that we apprehend that it ie

something living; nor do we have any doubt but that its
little viscera are produced and separated with the utmost dis
tinctness, and that it enjoys a brain, medulla spinalis, lungs,
stomach, intestines, muscles, and sensory organs; for by the
aid of the optic art, the eye has detected this in similar ani
malcules. But when the sight barely touches the surface, it
is extremely difficult to divine the interior and more hidden
parts. Such is the case with our inner sensory. By reflec
tion we are able to discover that we perceive, understand,
think, choose, desire, will, determine into act; and that there
are hosts of loves, cupidities, desires, pleasures, ends. Since
all these are the property of a single sensory, and appear
as though continuous and united, it follows that it is ex
tremely difficult to evolve each one separately, and distinctly
to set forth the ideas of our own understanding to the under
standing of another person. Who can see the art of a painter
or the grace of a figure when he is in the dark? and who will
rightly perceive it even if the painter, being in the dark, him
self explains the several details in words? Therefore, if the
several parts are to appear in living fashion, as it were, we
must await the rising of the sun and of light.
283. This, moreover, is the reason why we are ignorant as
to what specifically the mind is, and what the animus. By
the Ancients who were not philosophers it was thought that
the animus is the same as our soul, and for this reason they
also said that the animus is immorta1. 4 But the philosophers
distinguished between the animus and the mind, and recog
nized that there is a superior animus which they called mind;
and some of them speak of there being in us also a superior
and purer mind. 5 That we ourselves may search out what
the one is and what the other, what their distinction and
what their conjunction, it behooves us by untiring reflection
and by intellectual intuition to enter into their several oper
ations, and this in order, one after the other; and then, after
exhaustive labor, again to reflect much on the parts, and so to
• See A Phil. Note Book, p. 24. • CL ibid., pp. 267, 302, 30~1O.
168
perceive the chain whereby they are coherent. For our mind
is no differently conditioned than the internal form of our
body, and this reveals itself as to its nature only through
its operations--only as we anatomically lay bare, examine,
and search deeply into the one part after the other. A like
anatomy of the mind is also required. It is therefore from
ourselves that we are to be instructed as to our nature, and
the mind is to be investigated by the mind; for of itself it
acts so scientifically that the whole of the philosophical sci
ences have gathered hardly more than a minute portion of
knowledge of it. But, dismissing this, let us make the en
deavor and inquire what the animus is, and what the mind.
284. That the animus is not the soul, and is not the same
as the rational mind, is clearer than light; for to the animus
are ascribed all those affections and cupidities, such as anger,
venereal love, envy, etc., which are purely animal, being
proper, not oniy to the human race, but also to brute ani
mais. The animus can never be said to be rational like the
mind. All the cupidities of the animus 6 die when we die; for
after death, there is no remnant of anger, venery, pride,
haughtiness, fear, revenge and other like cupidities, and the
animus, as consisting of these, cannot live without them.
Thus the animus is purely animal, being, as it were, an in
ferior or irrational mind. For while it is the animus which
is affected and feels desire, that animus is not the animus
which thi~ks, but is below the animus, if I may ;;0-call1t,
which thinks and which is called rational. Wherefore the
cupidities of our animus are to be restrained byasuperior
or rational mind,and to be moderated in accordance wit
the determination of the mind's judgment. Add to this, that
the soul and its every affection is inscribed on the countenance,
the tone of the voice, the speech and the deed, that is to say,
on the body; and, at the same time, is inscribed the external
character 7 or animus. The animus, therefore, is removed
from the body only in the sense that it is within it and shows
• [Crossed off:] are inconstant, 7 In the autograph, this word is
and are called corporeal and ma hard to read, and I am not sure
terial. that it is mores.
169
itself in bodily form, as in the case of anger, revenge, pride,

hatred, love, etc. On the other hand, what we think-unless
our thought be conjoined with an affection of the animus
does not shine forth from our face save for a slight sparkle, as
it were, in the eyes, in case we are unable to dissimulate.
From the above it is clearly apparent that the rational mind,
while utterly distinct from the animus, is yet so conjoined
with it that we may call our rational mind a superior animus,
and the animus an inferior mind, but with the precaution
that by the likeness of the words we do not confound the ideas.
285. But the question is asked, What is the animus? If
we call the animus the inferior mind, by this denomination we
still do not understand what the animus is; for, not knowing
what the mind is, it cannot thereby be any better known
what the animus is. If we define the animus as the princi
ple of the mutations of our body, we do indeed acknowledge
that it is a principle, there being nothing that does not flow
forth from its principle. But what the animus is, is still un
known; for there are an infinitude of principles of mutations,
and if we are to affirm or deny that the animus is or is not
such a principle, each must be explained as to what it is. If
the animus is described as the form of the material ideas
of our common sensory, it will be necessary to explain what
form is, and what its nature; what material ideas are, and
how their form can be conceived of; and lastly, what the com
mon sensory is to which the form of ideas is ascribed. If it
is said that the animus is the universal affection of the sensory,
or that affections taken together constitute the animus, the
question stiH arises, What is it? where is it? what is its nature?
for it is the animus, not the universal affection, that is said
to be affected. Thus, whithersoever we turn our mind, it still
comes to a stop in some occult quality in resp~ the animus.
The result is the belief that the animus is in ;arne crypt of
the cerebrum, like the regulator of the eye; or that it is a
quality which is without a subject; and that quality can be
some such principle as is that of the mutations of the body.8
• [Crossed off:] But if we are to lectualIy what the animus is, we
perceive both visually. and intel- can by no means do it by a new
170
ANIMUS AND RATIONAL MIND 286
286. If we are to understand what the animus is, we must

by all means approach its fount. It is undoubted that the
cerebrum receives all the sensations of the external organs,
touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight; for from these several
organs go nerves, and these approach and enter the medulla
oblongata and the cerebrum itself. That the cerebrum re
ceives the oncoming sensations is shown by innumerable
other phenomena; for when the cerebrum or the nerve com
ing to the cerebrum is obstructed, all sensation is at once
lost. Therefore, by common consent, the cerebrum is called
the common sensory. It is also an evident truth that each
individual nerve is divided into fibers and fibrils, and that
each fiber has its own origin. Following the fiber to its origin,
we plainly see that it terminates in a little head or small
globule called cortical gland. By aid of the microscope,
this has been detected by actual sight. And since sensations
which go to the cerebrum cannot stop midway but must by
all means push on to their origins or beginnings, in these be
ginnings must be that which sensates and receives the sensa
tion. These beginnings are as many in number as are the
fibers, their abundance and luxuriance being so great that they
constitute the whole covering of the cerebral mass, and also
occupy its interiors. From this it follows that these glands
taken together are that which is called the common sensory.
Whenthis cortex or substance is closely examined, we note
that all its parts, that is, all its glands are disposed together
into a form which is most highly perfect, and which we have
called the spiral form jO and also that these same glands are
differentiated, and among themselves coordinated and mu
tually subordinated j in a word, that these glands, which are so
many little sensories, constitute the form of the particular
sensories.
With these premises, let us now see what the animus is.
As already stated, this cortical cerebrum or common sensory
receives all external sensations j but it also sensates the single
rational philosophy, for then it ideas to form some subject from
would behoove us to abstract ideas which
from subjects, IlJld from these • See The Fibre, n. 271.
171
differences which are impressed on the fibers and papillae of

the organs. This sensation cannot be called the animus; it
is a bare perception of sensations, that is, of modes with their
differences and discriminations. Thus it is the common sen
sory that sensates and perceives, and not the animus. Still,
each sensation, whether simple or compound, is a form, being
a form arising from the discriminations of exquisitely slight
touches and forces. Such is the nature of the sensation of
taste; such that of smell; such that of hearing, the forms
whereof are distinctly perceived both in song and in every
single word, the latter being therefore called an articulated
sound. Such also is the sensation of sight; for every single
object or every image is formed from the differences of shade
and light, especially a compound image, that is, an object in
entirety. This form, when it reaches the common sensory
or cortical cerebrum, is not merely perceived as a sensation,
that is, as sweet, bitter, pleasant, beautiful, harmonious or in
harmonious, but it also exhilarates and gladdens one cerebrum,
or saddens another, entirely according to the quality, the
perfection and imperfection of the form itself. This is called
the animus of the cerebrum, and it is this animus that is said
to be affected. The animus, therefore, is inseparable from
the common sensory; and~in that it is the sensory which is
affected, this ~nsory, as regards affection, is itself the animus.
Thus the perception is a dlSti~ct thmg, and the affection a
distinct thing; and yet both pertain to the cerebrum. 1
287. It is, therefore, the common sensory which is affected,
pleasantly or unpleasantly, delightfully or undelightfully,
whence comes sensation. Hence comes joy or sadness, or any
other of the passions ascribed to the animus alone. Properly
1 [Crossed off:] But, since the harmony differently from another;
cerebrum is affected according to thus, What is the correspondence
the form induced on it by the between the form of the cere
sensoriola, and according to the brum
form which is in the sensoriola The animus, therefore, is the
themselves, it comes now to be sensory aT peTceptory of the form
asked, Whence does the animus aT quality of the sensations in
draw its essence? for one animus themselves and among themselves.
is affected by the same form or
172
speaking, the joy or the sadness flowing from the grate
fulness or [ungratefulness], the harmony or disharmony of
modes in the things sensated and perceived, is itself what is
called the external affection of the animus. But there is
also an internal affection. The animus is als0 2 the principle
of all the mutations of its body,. for the affection of the sen
sory, that is, of the single cortical substance, is transfused
into the containing fibers, and by these into the whole body
which is formed only of fibers. Thus, to the animus is
ascribed passion, that is, affection, and also action, that is,
the principle of actions.
288. But since the animus of one man is not like the ani
mus of another, that by which one man is affected gratefully
affects another ungratefully; the same harmony of sound or
form of vision gladdens the one but saddens the other. It
follows that the state of the one man, that is, of the one
sensory, is different from that of the other, the nature of the
affection being such as is the state of the sensory; for the
same operation upon two different subjects varies according
to the state of the recipient, that is, of him who is affected.
And since the animus is made glad, sad, desirous, angry, hot,
and thus has life within it, that which lives must needs be
in the common sensory and the several sensoriola. Hence,
inquiry must be made as to the source whence the animus
draws this its essence and life. 3
• The "also" refers to the crossed consisting in like manner of its

off beginning of the paragraph as purest and simple cortical sub
given in the preceding note. stance and of its purest and simple
S [Crossed off:] The mind, how medullary substance, to wit, of
ever, is a superior animus, being simple fibers. Thus, from the
that animus which acts in the same cerebrum we learn the nature of
way in each sensoriolum or in this cerebellulum; that is, from
ternal sensory, that is, in the cor the common or external sensory,
tical gland, as does the animus, the nature of the particular or in
already described, in the common ternal sensory; consequently, from
or external sensory, that is, in the the soul, the nature of the mind.
cerebrum; for each internal sen But the animus of the common
sory is a cerebrum in least effigy, sensory can by no means be so
173
289. For a still clearer understanding of what the animus

is, let us speak by examples. What is saporiferous to the
taste is perceived in the common sensory as sweet or bitter or
acid, but the perception goes no further. In the sensation,
there is also delight, being, as it were, a kind of common
taste. Hence appetite is aroused, and, indeed, an appetite
for such things as are suitable to the state of the body, as
in the case of brutes which appetize things suitable to their
nature from taste alone. This belongs to the animus. So
likewise in the sensation of smell, and still more evidently
in the sounds of hearing. The modulations of song and the
several differences in sounds are perceived by the common
sensory, and likewise their harmony and pleasantness, of
which there is, as it were, a common sensation; but the re
sultant exhilaration and joy, and the affections of some love
belong to the animus. So likewise in the objects of sight.
The smiling verdure of a garden, with its different flowers,
its roses and bushes, and also the beauty resulting from the
orderly arrangement of the plants, these are perceived by the
eye and the common sensory; but the inmost gladness thence
arising-the love at the sight of beauty, the vindictiveness,
fear, anger, at the sight of an enemy, the compassion at the
sight of misery-these belong to the animus which is thus
carried away into various affections, and from these into de
sires which are communicated to the body.
We see from this how difficult it is distinctly to perceive
what the animus is, and what perception, for in each of them
are distinct natures, as it were. The differences in percep
tion are as many as those that are apparent in sensations, and
these are innumerable, while the differences in animus are as
affected by the mere harmonies mon sensory; and within it, as in
of the modes of any sense, such the cerebrum, is the purest cortex
as hearing. and medulla. Every sensation of
But what the animus is, has not sight affects these sensoriola im
yet been searched out. mediately, and likewise flashes
For each cortical gland is a sen through their simple fibers even
soriolum or little cerebrum in least to their simple cortex.
effigy, or an exemplar of the com
174
many as are the affections, and each of these carries its own
specific and particular differences. From this comparison, it
can be understood that within the animus is a certain life
which is communicated to the perception of sensation, that is,
to the sensory, and without which there would be no sensa
tion. Therefore, the animus is the life of sensations.
290. But the animus lives, not from itself, but from the
soul, which alone is living, and by which all else in the body
lives. The animus, however, cannot live in the same way
as the soul, for it is far removed therefrom, and is in a more
imperfect and compound form, being that of the common
sensory from whose form the animus derives the fact that
itself is called a form. Therefore, we must inquire, what
that mind is which is the form of forms and is called the
superior animus.
291. It is equally difficult to understand what the mind
is, although nothing is more familiar in common speech, and
the word, being a fitting one, is always introduced in speech
a sign that our rational mind knows exactly what it is, but
that we ourselves do not know. We ought, however, to in
quire into it, just as the anatomist inquires into what is in
the heart and arteries when he knows from the pulse that
there is something from which the pulsation comes. If it
be now defined as the form of forms, we have no more com
prehension of it than if we said that the mind is the mind,
or that it is something which must be expressed as form,
whereby we express a quality more occult than mind. If
we say that the mind is the principle of all the mutations
of its animus, then principle must be explained as to what
it is, where it is, and what its nature; for principle, like force
and cause, is a general word and can be said to be in every
thing. If the mind is said to be the fount of rational affec
tions resulting from harmonies of intellectual or immaterial
ideas, like the animus from ideas which are not immaterial,
something appears to be expressed by which a nearer ap
proach is made to a knowledge of the mind. But if we are
to perceive it, the fountain itself must be inquired into and
this from its streams, and the streams from their derivatives
175
which either present themselves before the senses as effects,

or have some analogy with things sensible.
292. Therefore, to explore what the mind or superior ani
mus is, we must proceed in the same way as above in the
exploration concerning the animus. The organic substance
itself must be investigated, that is to say, that internal sen
sory where the mind resides, as it were. That the mind is
in the cerebrum is beyond the possibility of a doubt; for the
state of the mind is the state of the cerebrum, the two being
so far united that as the one suffers injury, grows faint, and
seems as though dying, so likewise does the other. It must
be borne in mind that the sensations of the external organs,
flashing through continuous fibers, go to the beginnings thereof,
that is, to the cortical glands, and that it is certainly in these
glands that the principle which is within the senses must
reside. It has been frequently demonstrated above, that this
gland is a cerebrum in least effigy, and that in it is a
medullary and cortical substance like that which is seen
in the large cerebrum or analogous thereto. Therefore we
have called each such corpuscle an internal sensory, and have
observed that, taken together, these sensoriola constitute the
common sensory. If then, in each such sensoriolum there
is a like analogous cortical substance, it follows that these
substances, taken together, are a particular or internal sen
sory, and that each minute cortical part thereof is an intel
lectory, being that in which is the pure inteUect, of which
we speak later. Starting from this idea, then, by mere com
parison and analogy, we can come to an understanding of what
the superior animus or the mind is, and what its nature. But
let us institute the comparative analogy itself.
293. Sensations, especially visual sensations, may be com
pared with ideas of the imagination or thought; for they mu
tually correspond to each other, and by cultivation images
pass over into such ideas. Thus, in place of visual images
are substituted intellectual ideas, and with these we may pro
ceed in the same way as we did above with sensations from
which we investigated the origin of the animus. In this way
we shall likewise find the mind. On the internal sensory
176
are impressed ideas, being immaterial quasi-images, if I may

speak thus crudely, as many in number as are the images
of the memory and imagination which are formed and drawn
forth by means of changes of the state of the sensory. These
immaterial or rational ideas are perceived in the pure intel
lectory, that is, in the aforementioned simplest or simple cor
tex, in the same way that images of the sight are perceived
in the common or external sensory. Thus ideas are like so
many internal sensations with their differences. Understood
in this way, ideas constitute the mind, but only as to the un
derstanding or thought. On the other hand, the good and
lovable affection resulting from the harmony of these ideas,
that is, from the thought, is that which is said to flow from
the mind. Consequently, it is the mind that is affected, and
the mind that is the life which is within the animus and which
thus is the principle of its mutations.
294. But we are still ignorant as to what the mind is; for
when it is said to be life and a principle, it is rationally con
ceived of as a quality flowing from the form of its intel
lectory when the latter is affected, and thus as nothing, being
without any organic substance of its own. But it behooves
us not to stop here; let us go further. This intellectory, the
highly pure cortical substance of the internal sensory, can
by no means exist and subsist of itself. It must consist of
substances still more simple, that is, of the most simple
substances of its kingdom. These most simple substances
are what we call the soul, within which is life, and which is
the true mind of its intellectory, and consequently, the life
of the animus. Yet it lies so inmostly concealed, or dwells
at such height, that it is distant from the animus by several
degrees of perfection. We understand this mind as to what
it is, and what its nature, that is, what the nature of its form
and principle, from a description of the soul.
295. It is therefore the superior mind and the inferior
mind, that is, the mind properly so called [and the animus],
which rule in the animate body and mutually communicate
their operations with each other. The mind properly so called
is spiritual, but the animus is purely natural, and can be
177
said to be corporeal in that it is directly affected by the har

monies of the corporeal senses and flows directly into the
countenance of the body and the forms of corporeal actions.
This, then, is the reason why some of the ancients declared
the animus to be immortal, in that, by the animus, as can
be seen from their definition, they meant the mind.
296. That the mind properly so called may communicate
with the animus, and by the animus with the body, there in
tervenes a mind which is called rational. This is the mind
which is proper to us and which is affected, desires, wills, and
which finally determines its desires into acts. Most writers
have believed that this rational mind is that superior, and,
indeed, supreme mind which lives in us and which they seem
to have confounded with thought. 4 That the case is other
wise, however, is clearly apparent from all that has been said
and from what is yet to be said; for the rational mind cannot
draw its essence and life from itself, inasmuch as it is acquired
by cultivation, sciences and art, and in process of time be
comes such that it possesses in itself more than all the sci
ences in the universe can ever exhaust. This it does not derive
from cultivation and experience. Nor can it derive it from
itself. There must certainly be a superior mind which shall
flow in; a mind which is pure and which is spiritual and
possesses in itself all that nature which we ourselves admire
in the rational mind as being superior, and from which we
draw only some drops in order that we may conceive and bring
forth our theoretical and physiological li sciences.
297. This mind, called the rational, is not properly the
mind, for it is intermediate between the mind and the animus,
and partakes of both, and so is born of both. The spiritual
mind flows into it from above, and the natural mind or ani
mus from below. This is the reason why it is called rational;
for to be rational, it must partake of the spiritual and the
natural. Thus the more that mind communicates with the
spiritual mind, the more eminently rational it is, or the more
• Cr. A Phil. N. B., pp. 40, 173 (Leibnitz) .
(Aristotle); 416 (Augustine); 278 • See A Phil. N. B. p. 8.
178
FORMATION AND AFFECTIONS OF MIND 297-298
spiritual; but the more it receives from the animus or natural

mind, the less rational it is, or the more corporeal. Thus the
superior mind and the animus come together, and, being con
joined in the internal sensory, they bring forth this their com
mon offspring. This, moreover, is apparent from the several
affections. When the rational mind is aroused by the animus,
as, for instance, by anger, revenge, illicit love, and other
affections, it does not at once descend to its side, but is drawn
away by some superior and purer mind, and so is led away
from the animus that it may either give opposing commands
or favor the animus with its assent. This deliberation and
pondering can by no means exist unless the rational mind
were set midway and between two loves which are sometimes
dissentient. This rational mind is therefore like the tongue
of some balance which turns in the direction to which the
greater weights draw it. To this mind is ascribed intellect,
that is, thought, judgment, choice, and will. But intellect
can be ascribed to the mind in no other way than as percep
tion of sensations is ascribed to the animus [no 289], to wit,
that this mind is the life of the intellect; or that thought can
not exist and subsist without its own mind, that is, without
loves and desires which not only arouse its intellect but vivify
it. The mind is therefore the life of thoughts, as the animus
is the life of sensations.
XIV
The Formation and Affections of the Rational Mind
298. After treating of the affections of the animus, the
affections or loves of the pure or superior mind should be
treated of before permitting ourselves to take up the affec
tions of the rational mind which is midway between the two
and is, as it were, a center of influx. But to treat now of the
loves of the supreme mind would be to fly from lowest depths
to supreme heights, and from things sensible to things which
do not fall within our comprehension and understanding, and
do not admit of being described by adequate terms. Things
which take place in the rational mind, on the other hand, being
179
our own, do fall within our understanding, though these also

could never have fallen within the understanding unless there
were a purer intellect or a more sublime mind which could
flow in, and from which we might be able to look upon the
things in the rational mind as things below. 6
299. Since it was said above [no 296], that the rational
mind is intermediate between the pure [superior] mind or
that of the soul, and the impure inferior mind or that of the
body, that is, the animus, it would seem to follow that the
rational mind possesses no affection of its own or of itself;
for that which is the center of influx, or in which are concen
trated two essences, cannot be said to be ought else than the
common essence of the two, or a single nature composed of
two. This is quite true; but this compound, or this mixture
is an essence per se, and its nature differs from both accord
ing to the mixture. As to whether and in what measure it can
be called a proprial essence, this we shall see in what follows.
We ought, however, to give some foretaste of the matter.
300. It is sufficiently clear from experience and reflection,
that our rational mind is desirous, that is, enjoys desires.
Desires cannot exist without affections or loves, for what we
desire, that we love, and what we love, we desire according
to the degree of the love. Desires in the rational mind are
called cupidities in the animus, and these are not possible
without corporeal affections or loves. It is also clear that
we are able to choose that which is best, and to reject evil;
• [Crossed off:] Meanwhile, be were its own, and this because we
cause our rational mind is made are made conscious of them. Yet,
up, as it were, of two minds, to if we inmostly contemplate them,
wit, the soul's mind and the body's we will notice that the spiritual
mind, ([doubly crossed] it cannot is so mingled with the natural, or
properly be said to be a mind the natural with the spiritual, that
proper) it cannot be said to pos thereby another entity is made up,
sess its own affections, that is, as it were, being a quasi-entity,
affections which are purely affec which could be said to be proprial
tions of the rational mind. All its to that mind. Moreover, for this
affections are mixed affections, be reason its affections are designated
ing both spiritual and natural. It by their own names.
does indeed appear as though they
180
or that our rational mind is able freely to make decisions and

to act in accordance with its decisions. If loves were not the
property of the rational mind, but only flowed in from else-
where and forced that mind to decide and act, then nothing
of its own could be predicated of the mind, and therefore
nothing free. But the very fact of free decision demonstrates
that the rational mind is the middle between two inflowing
loves, and is the arbiter in the choice of which is the best.
Furthermore, it is clear that, unless there were some affections
proper to the mind, of which it could will one rather than
another, there would be no will, but instead of will, either
cupidity or instinct, as in brute animals; for all that flows
from the animus is cupidity, and all that flows from the su-
perior mind is instinct.
301. This clearly shows that the loves insinuated into the
rational mind are so united together that, in regard to their
essence and nature, they are distinct from the loves both of
the superior mind and of the animus; thus, that they consti-
tute a quasi-separate mind of their own, hut yet a mind which
has its existence from the superior mind and the animus,
and therefore continues to exist by virtue of both, and is de-
pendent on both, not indeed in equal measure but according
as it bends and inclines itself to the one more than to the
other. As a further argument, it can be added to the above
that if there were no love existing in the mind as proper thereto,
that is, as our very own, we could never be accused of any
fault or crime; for we acknowledge nothing as our own and as
properly belonging to us save what exists in our rational mind,
that mind being our verimost self. All other things are mine,
in that my mind calls them its own; nor does it consider them
in any other way than as its instruments, whereby it can be
what it is, and can do as it wills. This, moreover, is the
reason why we judge each individual to be what he is ac-
cording to the state of his mind. One who is dull or stupid
or impotent of mind, we would hardly call a man; but one
who is highly intelligent and wise, we call a true man and
divine. Thus the proprium of all men must pertain to their
mind, being all that it has within it.
181
302. But let us look into the matter more deeply, and en
deavor to explore what is really the property of the rational
mind, and what really is not its property. That which per
tains to the mind and is contained within it, is called its prop
erty, and yet it may not therefore be really its property.
Take the case of sight in the eye: This is really the property
of the internal sensory, for the latter sees in the absence of
eyes, while the eye does not see in the absence of an internal
sensory. Strictly speaking, I see nothing in this whole in
ternal sensory or human intellectory that is its own save the
ability of its mind to bend or turn itself either to the superior
mind or that of the soul, and to admit the inflow of its loves,
that is, to receive them-but in what way shall be told else
where; or to the inferior mind or that of the body, that is,
of the animus, and to admit or receive the influx of its loves.
All else that is within it, whatsoever it be, is not its own, ex
cept in the sense that it flows from this direction; for the ra
tional mind is like the tongue which rules the balance. In
the human body is nothing save soul and body, or nothing
save the spiritual and the natural. All other things which
are intermediate partake of both, and thus partaking, there
fore, like a balance, they depend on both. In order, therefore,
that each may be held in equilibrium, a rational mind is
granted, that it may be a moderator and director. Thus, in
this point alone is it active; in all else it is passive.
303. It is a truth generally accepted because common ex
perience has taught it to everyone, that, so far as our rational
mind admits the loves which flow in from the body and its
blood, or from the world by the gates of the senses, and ap
plies itself to them, giving itself up and surrendering, so far
it is removed from the loves of the superior mind, that is,
from spiritual loves; and so far as it removes itself from the
loves of the body and the blandishments of the world, so far
it admits the loves of the superior or spiritual mind. The
spiritual is suffocated, as it were, by the natural, and the natu
ral is expelled by the spiritual. Thus it is evident that there
is an internal man which fights with an external man, and
182
the mind, apprehending the combat, either gives itself up as

conquered or carries off the victory.
304. Since, therefore, the loves of the superior mind and
those of the animus flow of themselves and spontaneously into
the rational mind, and there come together; and since the
property of this mind is solely to bend itself to the one side
or the other; let us see how the other things in that same
rational or properly human mind flow from it, so that it may
be said of them that they are its property; for when things
flow from a proprium, that is, from will as being necessarily
its sequalae, they also are proprial and draw from their
principle both their fate and their name. But let us proceed
in order and by examples.
305. (1) The first love, will, and quasi-desire of the pure
mind or soul is to associate with itself an inferior mind or
aniIIlus. This it produces or creates from its own essence, and
it inspires it with life. In other words: From its own essence,
the soul forms a pure intellectory, the mind whereof is natural.
This mind is within the pure intellectory, being most indi-
vidually present in each. This common essence and life of
the several parts is called the animus, and within it is only
what is natural and corporeal but not what is spiritual, al-
though it descends from the spiritual and is created by it.
As yet, however, this love belongs, not to the rational mind,
but to the pure or spiritual mind.
306. (2) The spiritual mind, now associated with a nat-
( ural mind, now loves and desires nothing save what is com-
I
I
mon to both. The spiritual mind loves its natural mind,
and the natural mind looks to and venerates its spiritual mind,
burning with supreme delights to be dependent on it and sub-
ject to it. And now, from this comes the first love common
to both, being the love that organs and instruments may be
formed whereby they may act and operate in the way the love
and desire common to both carries and bears them. These
organs are formed in a fashion most suitable to the nature
and love of both minds; for both look to ends only, and since
these can be attained only by means of organs and instru-
mental means, therefore these instruments are formed in ac-
183
cordance with every end common to both. Hence arises that

corporeal machine which is merely organic, being wholly ac
cordant with the image of the operations of the two minds.
This love, however, is not yet the love pertaining to the ra
tional mind.
307. (3) When this tender body has been formed and is
put forth from the maternal womb or egg, there at once suc
ceeds and is born, as it were, or evolved, from the prior love
another love, being the love that it may become a man, or be
furnished with a mind of its own which may be called ra
tional, the fact that man is a man being due to his rational
mind; as that mind is, such is the man. The pure mind or
soul and the mind of the pure intellectory, that is, the spirit
ual mind and the natural mind, then both do their part; and
because both engage in a common cause, and desire to pour
into this mind their essence, nature, and life, it follows that
this mind is called rational, the word rational signifying the
spiritual and the natural together or a partaker of both.
308. (4) He who loves an end, loves also the means lead
ing to that end. Both those minds provide the means, when
they construct organs by means whereof they may arrive at
the end. Therefore, the first mediate love or love of the
means-a love which is common to both-is, that the organs
may sensate, that is, that the ear may hear and the eye see,
or that the common sensory or cerebrum may perceive the
things heard and seen, this being the first way and the first
means in the formation and information of the rational mind.
All that is harmonious is then grateful and gladdens the ani
mus, and all that is inharmonious is ungrateful and saddens
the animus. In this way the animus is now for the first time
aroused, and so concurs as of itself in the founding of this
rational mind. There is as yet no rational mind, save one in
its cradle, as it were, or first infancy; for only in its com
mencement is its ability to bend and turn these sensory or
gans to objects that it may receive those that flow in. As
said above [no 302] this is the one thing which is its property,
and to which it is incited by the animus, which is affected
gratefully, joyously, and delightfully by harmonies. Now
184
commences its golden, innocent, and sportive age, the animus

not yet having risen up against the mind, but inmostly lov
ing it; for the mind itself is in the animus, both conspiring
to the one end, and the animus does not as yet know the
nature of the world outside itself.
309. (5) This common love progresses ever onward and
increases in the progression. In the common sensory are now
insinuated material ideas, and in the internal sensory, im
material ideas, being the first principles of the intellect. This
is done, not from any love belonging to the rational mind, but
from a love belonging in common to the animus and the
spiritual mind. The rational mind does not yet know whence
this love comes, for it flows in both from the mind and from
the animus. The mind desires the end, the animus the effect.
The animus is ignorant of the end desired by the soul, but
is incited by the pleasure which flows from the harmony of
the internal and external sensations. As yet, the rational
mind of itself makes no further contribution than consists
in applying itself, turning to what flows in from both, and
giving attention thereto; for when it takes note, its attention
is all that is required.
310. (6) The ideas of the memory and imagination being
thus increased, the man begins to understand or perceive
something further; that is, from words, which are so many
material ideas, he begins to draw some superior essence or
meaning. When the intellect begins to form, it also thinks.
It then makes further progress, and from thoughts at once
advances to will, doing this, not from any understanding, but
from the love of some pleasure which is insinuated from the
senses into the animus, and from the animus into this intellect.
311. (7) These delightful things of the animus which
are communicated to the rational mind appear as though they
were within that mind and were sensated within it; but they
are outside the mind. Things which appear delightful, joyous,
and gladsome to the animus are seen in the rational mind
as good, and are so called, their opposites being called evil.
All those pleasant things, that is, those things by which the
animus is affected, are themselves these goods and evils.
185
The rational mind, being curious as to whether that which

appears joyous and lovely is good or evil, is therefore car
ried along by some kind of longing, to the point that it wishes
to find out whether it be a true good or a false good, that is,
evil; and also whether it be a true evil or an apparent evH; for
in itself the knowledge of truth signifies nothing in the absence
of good, for truth must have regard to good as its subject.
The rational mind does not stop here. It cannot be persuaded
as to whether a thing be truly good unless it find out the
subject of the good, nothing good being possible without its
subject. The subject is first seen, but there is no knowledge
as to whether it is truly good. It is necessary that the mind
inquire into the quality of this subject, what its attributes
are, its accidents, and its adjuncts. Then, after these points
have been explored, it can at last be persuaded as to whether
or not this good is truly good. The rational mind proceeds
in this way in each case, and this to the end that it may ex
plore the nature of the things set before it by which it seems
to be affected.
Such appears to be the nature of the intellect of the ra
tionai mind, and if we examine into it more deeply, we clearly
perceive that all these operations are not the property of the
intellect but that there flows in from above a love of know
ing the quality of all that flows in from below by way of the
senses and animus. Thus the superior mind is constantly
turning to the rational mind, to the end that it may inform
itself concerning the things which come before the senses,
lest in any way it be deceived by an appearance; for the
superior mind well knows how innumerable are the fallacious
appearances of things. This is the reason why we are carried
along naturally by a desire of knowing, and of knowing not
only present things but also future, and not only things evi
dent but also things occult. This is called innate curiosity
and is the first motive in the perfecting of our intellect; that
is, it is the love of communicating its own knowledge to the
mind that is to be instructed. In these operations, moreover,
the rational mind does nothing of itself save only that it turns
its rational gaze to the superior mind, that is, to the soul. All
186
else flows in spontaneously, the love itself arousing the desire

to know. But from the moment that the mind applies itself,
all this intellect is predicated of the mind as its own property,
the property, namely, that it not only perceives but also
thinks and judges. This becomes its own property, as it
were, because it is acquired; but while it is being acquired, the
mind itself is as though passive, and merely turns itself to
the one side or the other.
312. (8) In the formation of the human intellect, there
are four ages, hardly otherwise than is the case in the great
world or macrocosm: It is the first or golden age when the
animus is entirely subject to its mind, for then it cannot be
called animus but an inferior or natural mind; the second
or silver age when the animus is not subject to the mind but
rules with it with equal right; the third or brazen age when
the animus begins to fight with its mind, and endeavors to
cast it down from its throne; the fourth or iron age when
the animus has subjected the superior mind to itself and that
mind is as a handmaid to its animus. In our own rational
mind these ages are seen from the loves which rule and dom
inate. If they are loves of the body and animus, or of the
world, it is a sign that spiritual loves have been driven from
their throne and, as it were, extinguished; but when spiritual
loves rule, corporeal loves recede and become cold, as it were,
and the lusts of the body are then said to be dead; for in
the degree that corporeal loves live, spiritual loves vanish,
and vice versa.
313. (9) The state would be one of integrity if spiritual
loves alone ruled. Then there would not be any rational
mind, since there would be no confluence of loves, but a spirit
ual mind alone. Thus if we are to be corporeal beings we
could not well stay in that state; this would be superhuman
and miraculous. But that the superior and inferior loves
should rule in equal measure-this is our better life. The
rational mind would then be elevated above its body; it would
be instructed of itself concerning what comes before it, and
would have no need of any science as a master. We are ever
rushing into things worse, and so turn away from this middle
187
state, that is, from the rational itself.7 Infants are spiritual
only, but [if we remained infants] there would then be no ra
tional mind, or, if there were, it would be not rational but
spiritual.
314. But let us return to the subject of affections or loves,
and inquire whether, in the rational mind, there are any affec
tions or loves which can properly be called its own. This we
shall never be able to explore unless we go through all the
desires, one by one, which are seen to be in this mind. From
these we can then form a conclusion.
xv
The Loves and Affections of the Mind
IN GENERAL.
315. In our rational mind, loves are perpetually ruling, nor

would there be any mind without them, just as there would
be no animus without affections, for loves pertain to the mind,
and affections to the animus. The objects by which the mind
is affected are called its loves. The rational mind also pos
sesses understanding, and understanding is something sepa
rate from the mind, just as sensation or perception is separate
from the animus. Still, no understanding is possible with
out mind, that is to say, without objects which are loved,
that is, without loves. Mere observance of the state of our
own mind makes it clearly apparent that at the first apper
ception or intellection some love is aroused. The love thus
aroused is the first, the last, and the middle love in the
thought, that is, it is the all. Without love, the existence of
thought is not possible. This, moreover, is seen from the de
sires of the mind, from its will, and from its ends. Unless
there were love, there would be no desire, for we desire what
we love. Love is within the will, for without love, the will
would become torpid or non-existent; and end is the subject
7 Reading ipso rationali for ip·sum rationale.
188
LOVES AND AFFECTIONS OF MIND 315-318
or object of love. Love, therefore, is the first, middle, and

last thing in our rational mind. But loves are innumerable.
Even the means to ends are loves, for they are regarded as
united with the ends, or continuous with them.
316. The mind, therefore, is the very soul or life of the
understanding, and the understanding can be compared with
the body of that soul. Such is their conjunction that if the
mind or its loves recede, understanding becomes non-existent
or is like an inanimate body. Thus love can exist without
understanding, as a soul without a body. Therefore there
is some love in our rational mind before there is understand
ing, and the understanding is formed by the mind as a body
by its soul, wherein itself is the first and the last, that is,
the all.
317. But the question is asked, Are the loves which are
found to be in the rational mind its own loves, or do they
come from elsewhere? It does indeed appear as if they were its
own, but lest we be led astray by the appearance, it behooves
us to run through some of these loves, and then [we can apply
our conclusion to] the other affections which appear to be
within the mind.
THE LoVE OF UNDERSTANDING AND BEING WISE.
318. In early infancy there is no note of there being in our

rational mind any love of being wise. The reason is because
we are not S as yet conscious of this love, that is, not conscious,
by reflection from phenomena, that within us there is some
such thing as the principle of understanding; and, moreover,
because it is a universal love, not yet limited or determined
to the love of any certain science. That, nevertheless, it is
within us, this we can conclude with certainty from its actual
effect, inasmuch as without such love we would never have
been able to inform our mind or to furnish it with any intel
lect; for the intellect is perfected by reason of some active
principle or love. The fact that we have an eager desire to
8 The not is added by the Latin borg is clearly a slip.
Editor. Its omission by Sweden
189
see, to hear, to hold in our memory, to imagine, to think

this, in our age of innocence, comes from an implanted love
of understanding and being wise. Moreover, without this
universal internal principle, the delights which are within
those senses cannot be delights. In this early age, however,
the love of understanding is general and almost undetermined,
and so is the pure love of being wise, devoid of any obj ect
within which is something pleasurable, for the sake of which
we desire intelligence. But in adult age we determine this
universal love to some particular kind of science which we
love more than all others, such as the art of war, or of seaman
ship, politics, mathematics, or to the science of civil law, to
theology, etc.; and with advancing years, to some specialty or
part of a more universal science. In this state we love no
other sciences save as they promote our purposed science as
being related to it and perfecting it.
From the above it is apparent that within our mind which
is to become rational there is of itself and of nature some love
which at first is universal, being the love of all sciences, and
in course of time is particular. Had it not been universal
in infancy, we would never have been able to furnish our mind
with any intellect save one that is specifically determined to
some certain science. 9 The matter can be compared with
the appetite for eating. The love of eating is present in the
embryo and infant prior to any tasting or savoring, and the
infant is not affected by any taste save in course of time.
For this reason it is nourished with milk in which there is
almost no taste. But that it may be aroused in course of
time, it is aroused by means of taste with its delights. This
love cannot be said to be the property of the rational mind,
inasmuch as it is present before the formation of the intellect;
and even when the intellect is formed, there is no knowledge
of it save by reflection directed to its effects. Therefore it
• This is seen in brute animals, quasi-intellect is determined only

for they have no innate love of "to some certain science."
growing wise, and therefore their
190
is infused by the superior mind, and nourished, and thus

roused up, by the delights of the animus. 1
THE LOVE OF KNOWING THINGS HIDDEN; WONDER. 2

319. That there is an innate love of being wise, this we
perceive from the love of knowing things hidden, a love famil
iar to everyone, it being this love that forms our whole in
tellect; for, in the case of an infant and child, all the things
that are impressed on its memory had previously been hid
den from it; but when they are impressed, it is at once seized
with the eager desire to find out what lies still further hidden
in that which is known, to wit, its qualities and much else.
This love rushes us into the sciences whereby we are per
suaded we shall arrive at a knowledge of things hidden. The
whole learned world rushes to physical experiments in order
that from these we may acquire wisdom, that is, may pene
trate into the secrets of nature. The ancient philosophers
were wholly carried off by this love; but they wished to pene
trate into the secrets of nature a priori, that is, by means of
principles and rational philosophy, while the philosophers of
our day wish to do this a posteriori, that is, by means of ex
perience. Both have the same love, for they concur as to
the end in view. Who does not desire that nature shall be
seen in her inmost recesses and unveiled? Who does not de
sire to know what the soul is? where it resides? what will be
its nature after death? what the highest good is. Who does
not desire to know the inner contents of another's mind? the
secrets of his own companions, of society, of kingdoms? Who
is there that is not delighted when with telescopes he beholds
the moon, a planet and its satellites? that does not wish to
know whether there are inhabitants there, and how the planets
pursue their daily and annual motions in this great vortex?
1 After finishing this section, not as yet enjoy intellect."
Swedenborg rewrote the title there • [Crossed off:] That the love of
of and commenced the new sec knowing things hidden is implant
tion with the words, crossed off: ed in the human mind, this we will
"The love of knowing things oc acknowledge if we enter into our
cult appears to be non-existent in own mind. We are led by some
infants, because an infant does love
191
Who does not love to discover by microscopes nature's tiniest

objects, and insects invisible to the eye? not to mention an
infinitude of other things which show that this love is im
planted in the human mind, a love which is also the principle
of becoming wise, and the efficient cause of the formation of
our intellect; and, being this, is present within us before the
formation, though we do not perceive its presence save by
judging from its effect. It follows that it flows in from a su
perior mind within us-a mind whose property it is to know
and understand aB things universally, and to wish to com
municate this its property to an inferior mind, whereby it
may present itself in its body.
320. Wonder is the affection produced by all perfection as
related to the subject thereof. We wonder at wisdom in a
child, but not in an old man; at intellect in an insane man;
at the analogue of virtue in a brute animal. So long as we
know little or nothing concerning the object of our wonder,
we wonder at its perfection, even though this be slight. Thus
we wonder at the marvels of nature, which are infinite in num
ber; at her hidden forms, and other like things. Therefore,
little children wonder at all things, because to them what
lies beneath is occult. This wonder, therefore, coincides with
the love of knowing things hidden; for what we wonder at,
that same is deeply fixed in our memory. We wonder that
nature in her kingdoms is so marvelous, but if we knew what
she herself is, and that she is supremely perfect and can pro
duce nothing else than marvels, we would cease to wonder.
We wonder at the miracles of God, and the proofs of His
Providence, because we do not comprehend that He is Infinite,
and His perfection infinite. Were we to perceive this, we
would feel nothing of amazement but only veneration and
adoration, thinking that what we comprehend with our mind
is a minimum, and that there is an infinitude of things which
surpass our understanding. He is most deeply hidden and
unsearchable by any mind, that He may be the God whom,
from His universe and the marvels of nature, we may won
deringly admire and adore. Who would God be were He not
inscrutable?
192
LOVES AND AFFECTIONS OF MIND 321
THE LOVE OF FOREKNOWING THE FUTURE.
321. The love of foreknowing things future is concurrent

in a third unit with the love of knowing things hidden; for
we love to know the future because it is hidden; and because
we love, we also desire. The only difference between them is
the difference between hidden things that are simultaneous
and hidden things that are successive; for things which are si
multaneous must be introduced successively. Therefore, when
we know the future, we conceive of it as being in the present
and simultaneous, for all past things were once future. There
fore, this love also declares that there is something within
our mind which is the active principle in forming our intel
lect. Moreover, this love is so regnant in every human mind
that it is present in its every desire for ends; for when we de
sire some end, and certain impossibilities stand in the way, we
at once desire to know the outcome. Hence comes hope; and
therefore, in every man who has hope, there is love of the
future, and this he desires to know. It is because of this love
in human minds that many arts have been thought out, such
as physiognomy, geomancy, Pythagorean arithmetic,3 judicial
astrology, and, in ancient times, auspices, consultation of
orades, inspection of entrails, interpretation of dreams, and
many other arts. Even the innumerable events of the past,
such as the fates and histories of kings and kingdoms, do not
give as much delight as a single new thing which we have
desired to know. Therefore, as the love of self is, such also is
the love of foreknowing one's happy destinies-a love which
is most delightful to children; and in the degree that there
is love of country, there is a sweet pleasure in knowing of its
future prosperity. This love seems to be in the mind, but
yet not the property of the mind, and this for the same reasons
as those given above [no 319J when treating of the love of
knowing things hidden; for, being one and the same love, it
• See A Phil. N. B., p. 8. Pytha to the gods, but his followers later
goras was a profound student of turned his teaching into a system
the properties of numbers, think of divination by numbers (Stan
ing numbers to have some affinity ley, Hist. of Phil., 1701, chap. xiv).
193
is a sign that the knowledge of things to come is present in

the soul, whence come the presages of the mind and the ful
fillment of dreams.
THE LOVE OF TRUTHS AND PRINCIPLES. 4
322. The intellect of our rational mind can never be in

formed and become intellect without the love of truths, for
its ideas must be so many truths. From these truths, ana
lytically turned over and equated, arises a new truth, and
from this and others like it, further new truths, until the
mind comes to universal truths such as are within the soul
and the pure intellectory. Truths which are particulars and
which are first introduced, are those material ideas we take
in by means of the senses. At first, the mind seizes upon aIr
these ideas as so many truths, as they seem to be, and from
these it sets up its rational analysis, and forms its infantile
intellect. Thus, the principles which the mind assumes are
as many as are the conclusions which it has formed, pro
vided it has faith in the premises, and confidence in itself
that it has rightly formed those conclusions. These princi
ples are those truths which are in the rational mind as its
own. They cannot, however, be said to be pure truths but
rather probabilities; for, for the most part, they are made
up of hidden qualities, and viewed in themselves are opinions
and hypotheses. The mind will note this if it deeply resolves
them and after comparing them with other truths, comes to
some conclusion which is experimentally true. The more
these presumed truths can be rendered probable and likely,
that is, can be so adorned and clothed that their internal form
does not appear, the more they are acknowledged as truth;
for we form our judgment respecting their internal form
mostly from their surface and external form, just as we judge
the virtue of a maid from her beauty. That there is an im
planted love of establishing principles and acknowledging
, [Crossed off:] We are led, not ideas of our memory-but, from
only by the love of objects set be love, we also draw from them new
fore us which are so many truths ideas.
taken in by some sense--these are
194
them as truths, or, what comes to the same thing, of form

ing the understanding, has been shown above [no 318]. But
what is here treated of is mainly the love of principles, re
garded as truths.
323. That it is natural to love truths can be confirmed
from the order which is within the several forms and harmonies
of nature. Truth in intellectual things corresponds to order
in natural things; and because, in itself, order, like harmony,
affects the common sensory with pleasure, and the animus
with delight, truths have the same effect on the intellectual
mind. Hence, as order presupposes harmony, so truth pre
supposes some love or some good of which it can be predicated
that it is truly good or truly evil. It is clear from common
experience that human minds love truths in the degree that
these truths confirm their idea of good; for there are goods
which are good by nature, and goods which are apparently
good but are not good but evil, and yet affect the mind as
though they were good. Thus a man eager for revenge finds
his delights and his good in cruelty, and when carried away
by that love, he loves all that confirms it, and hates all that
opposes. It is often the case that he understands the truths
which oppose this animus, but hates them, hating also those
who wish to bend his animus by means of truths. A man
who is avaricious and looks with longing at the goods of
others, often acknowledges truths, and that his life is con
trary to the order of nature, and yet hates those truths and
loves all persuasive probabilities which flatter his idea of
good. Criminals often speak with the utmost wisdom, nay,
and often preach, and by a chain of truths attack their own
crimes; yet those same truths are hated by them in their
mind. Thus there are men who love truths, and men who
hold them in hatred or love what is opposed to truth, hatred
being a love of the opposite. So likewise with the rational
mind. It loves truths from an implanted love. Without such
love, it could never have so perfected its understanding as
to be possessed of judgment. But in place of truths it sub
stitutes principles which are so many probabilities, and these
it recognizes as truths. The loving of these principles or
195
probabilities comes from the same love as the embracing of

truths. That this ardor is in the superior mind or soul, all
whose ideas are truths which the soul either loves or hates,
is apparent from the effect of a similar love in the rational
mind, and also from the origin of ambition and anger, which
in the soul are so many heats and fires in defense of these
truths. For there are men who by nature are tenacious of
their opinion, resembling old age even in their childhood; for
the old believe that all their principles are so many truths.
Not so the young who are of a progressive intellect and are
not lovers of self.
THE LOVE OF GOOD AND EVIL
324. The difference between the love of truth and the love
of good is like that between intelligence and wisdom, truth
being the object of the intellect, and goodness the object of
wisdom. No intellect, however, is devoid of wisdom because
none is devoid of the love of some good. Intellect is acquired
by means of the love of understanding truths. Wisdom is
not acquired; for good is that delight which flows in and is
insinuated of itself; but that we may understand whether the
good is truly good, apparently good, or not good, that is,
falsely good, for this, intellect is required. The truly good is
good in itself; the apparently good is good in itself in that
it so appears; the falsely good is evil, and this is opposed to
true good. Thus truth and good are both united and sepa
rated; for we are able to love evil and hate good, and still
to enjoy understanding; that is, able to understand truth and
falsity, or to understand that a thing is not good [although
we love it, or is good] although we hate it. This ability is
called intellective, scientific and external wisdom. Wisdom
itself must needs be conjoined with love; and since all love
is connate, we cannot be wise of ourselves, but only from the
influx of the love of true good; and that this may flow in,
liberty 'is granted us to bend our mind to this side or to
that. Therefore, truths constitute the intellect, and the in
tellect is greater, the more nearly its principles approach gen
uine truths and free themselves from the shade of proba
196
bilities. That our rational mind may be supremely intel
ligent, it is necessary that it know universal truths as they
are known ex se by the pure intellectory and the soul, to
whose perfections the rational mind strives to approximate.
On the other hand, goodness constitutes wisdom. To love
wisdom is to love that intelligence which unfolds the nature
of goodness, but to love true good itself is to be wise. There
fore, our mind is ever aspiring to the highest good, of which
there is much dispute, because everyone assumes probable
good as the highest good. Knowledge is neither intelligence
nor wisdom but is the mediate cause of intelligence, that is,
its instrumental cause. Therefore, all knowledge is acquired
by the experience of one's senses, or by the intuition and ex
ploration of one's mind, or by the experience, knowledges, and
doctrines of other men. Where there is natural intelligence,
there also is knowledge, the one presupposing the other; but
knowledge is then seen, not as something contingent, but as
something necessary, and that it is one's nature to know this
thing. Knowledge is concerned chiefly with the objects of
goodness. Cognition is the mediate cause whereby knowledge
is acquired; hence doctrines and schools.
325. Of itself, the rational mind can never love good. It
forms a judgment concerning evil and good, and when it em
braces the one in preference to the other, it is said to love
because it admits the one and excludes the other. The mind
admits all that is joyous, delightful, and soothing to the ani
mus and senses; that is, it admits the loves of its animus, or
is the cause of their flowing in; and when it is occupied with
the idea thereof, and expels any idea of the contrary, it is then
said to love, inasmuch as it calls that which flows in good.
The loves, however, are not its own but flow in. So likewise
when it excludes the affections of its animus, and so admits
superior loves. It then calls the things that flow in, good,
and it is said to love them because wholly occupied with the
idea of them. Thus the rational mind is possessed by inflow
ing loves, but itself lacks any love of its own. They are called
its own because they flow in and take possession of its idea.
197
THE AFFIRMATIVE AND NEGATIVE.
326. The fact that the mind can affirm and deny, clearly
indicates that it is set midway between two loves flowing in
from two directions; that it can choose the one and rej ect
the other i and that this is the sole property of the mind.
Without this property, the mind could never have existed, still
less could it subsist. Nothing else in the entire body can
either affirm or deny. Our animus of itself cannot do this
inasmuch as it is affected according to the harmony in an
object and which is in agreement with its own nature. The eye
cannot affirm or deny, but is affected by the harmony of ob
jects and the mixture of colors, among which there is a natural
order as seen in the rainbow. Even the intellectory and the
soul cannot affirm or deny. AH things which in themselves
are perfect affect the soul gratefully, and all which in them
selves are imperfect affect her ungratefully-but this, ac
cording to the nature of the soul herself. Thus the soul can
only love the one and hate the other. To affirm and deny is
not hers but belongs to the rational mind alone. Verimost
truths are inseated in the soul; but her state-this may either
love the truths in herself, or may have hated them, so that
she can by no means now love what previously she has hated.
Her putting on of this state, however, is done only in this
life, and, indeed, by means of the rational mind, this being
able to affirm and deny and to choose the one state in prefer
ence to the other.
327. In order, then, that in the rational mind there may
be free choice and a will, and thus the faculty of affirming
or denying, it is granted no loves of its own. If it possessed
loves of its own and natural to it, its affirmative and negative
would wholly cease. That loves seem to be innate in it, such
as the love of honesty, the seeds of which seem to have been
laid up in the mind, and that it has inclinations, proves that
there are within it, not loves natural to it, but only a dis
position more ready to receive certain loves rather than others,
and more easily to change its states accordingly and in no other
way, or more easily to be in certain ideas than in others; III
198
a word, that it wishes to admit certain loves rather than
others. This, however, does not prove that love is implanted
in it and is its own property.
CONSCIENCE.
328. A good conscience and a bad conscience seem to be

proprial affections of the rational mind, but as to whether
they are, this will be clear from an investigation of their
origin. Conscience depends primarily on the determination
of the true good. Everything we believe to be a true good
and yet act contrary thereto, arouses an evil conscience, and
everything we believe to be evil and yet do it, arouses an evil
conscience; but the opposite arouses a good conscience. Thus
our conscience depends on our principles, which we believe
to be so many truths. Therefore, the good conscience of one
man may be the evil conscience of another, and this from one
and the same cause. The good conscience of a criminal is
the evil conscience of honest men. The Devil acts against his
conscience if he does not do evil, although he knows that this
is contrary to spiritual truths.
Conscience very manifestly declares that our rational mind
is midway between superior and inferior loves. A good con
science corresponds to gladness in the animus, and an evil
conscience to sadness. Therefore, by a mode of correspond
ence, this gladness and sadness flow into the mind and arouse
its conscience. Moreover, the states of the soul and the loves
thereof contribute much to the state of conscience in the ra
tional mind. When her love rules in that mind, the soul
which loves truths, is latently troubled by all that the mind
does contrary to that love. This is true conscience. But if
the soul hates spiritual truths and becomes a diabolical soul,
then the mind, when led by true goods is troubled by these
goods. Conscience, therefore, comes from the animus and
from the superior mind and is such that hardly anyone knows
what it is; for to judge truly concerning [a man's] conscience,1S
• This is an interpretation. The concerning the truth of con.science."
literal translation is "to judge
199
one must by all means know what the truly good is, what his
mind is, and what his animus-a knowledge which belongs to
God alone. Conscience itself judges every individual.
THE HIGHEST GOOD AND HIGHEST TRUTH.
329. There can be no doubt but that there is a good which

is good in itself, that there is a principle of that good, and
that it is principally good itself and love itself. And if there
is a good which is good in itself, then necessarily all things
flowing from that good and tending to that good are in them
selves good; while all that turn aside from the way, and still
more those that are opposed to that good and do not tend to
it, are in themselves evil, and this according to their distance
from that good. From this it is manifest that nothing can be
good itself save God who is the Fount of all.good, that is, of
every perfect thing. But things evil and imperfect can ap
pear in our mind as though they were good and perfect, and
so can inspire the persuasion that they should be received.
In a purer and more sublime mind, however, this is never
the reason why we may recognize that they are evil, but may
receive them because they soothe and are harmonious with
the state of our mind; then also they are sometimes called
necessary evils. From this it is now apparent that every
man embraces that which fits in with the state of his mind,
and this he calls the highest good; as, for instance, revenge,
with one who is eager for revenge; wealth, with the avaricious,
and so in other cases. In a word, every man places the high
est good in a good conscience. But it is necessary clearly to
see what the good is, whether it is a true good or a false good.
Therefore, universal truths must be investigated, and by these,
minds must be instructed.
330. Highest good presupposes also highest truth. What
ever affirms this highest good is itself highest truth, and all
else is false. But evils are also true. Therefore, highest
truth signifies that which expresses the real nature of a thing
as it is in itself, and so also the nature of good and of evil.
331. Good in the mind signifies the perfect in nature; there
fore, they correspond to each other. Of perfections, there are
200
the superior and the inferior. Therefore, what in itself is

the highest good is different or remote according to the sub
jects which admit that good. The highest good of the body
is pleasure, this having the maximum effect on the body.
The highest good of the animus is that love which most highly
affects it. In themselves, these goods are the highest goods
in relation to the state of the body and animus which receive
them and are affected by them. Such also is [the case with]
the mind of the soul and pure intellectory. The highest good
of the rational mind is that which it admits with the greatest
pleasure, being the things in which it finds its chief indulgence,
or to which its ideas or changes of state incline. In them
selves, all these are highest goods so far as they tend directly
to that which is highest good in itself, and have this in view;
that is, they are highest goods so far as they are one with the
highest good in nexus or love.
332. Every faculty and every mind, whether superior, in
ferior, or mediate, aspires to the highest good, and this from
an implanted love. Yet it can never come to that degree of
good wherein is the superior mind; for in the superior mind
is something of the infinite, and this the inferior mind can
never reach without being dissolved or rent asunder. What
is the highest in the inferior mind can hardly be called the
least in the superior mind. We can see, therefore, that our
rational mind is unable to think what the nature of the happi
ness or unhappiness of its soul will be; and being unable to
think this, it is unable to express it. It is the same with high
est truth. Our mind, even though it progresses and spreads
out its intellect into the indefinite, can never arrive at pure
truth as it is in the soul, without being dissolved and rent
asunder. Thus we can never penetrate into the nature of
pure intelligence, that is, of the soul's intelligence. A limit
is set to the extent to which our intellect can go, or a limit
from which it can go no further; yet the field granted it, is
one that can be extended into the indefinite. Moreover, that
love is within it naturally; but if it wishes to be lifted above
itself, or to seek after things higher than itself, it then either
perishes and is dissolved, or else it is reduced into such a
201
state that it can never afterward have this ambition and so

sin against love and the law of order. Yet such a love is
connate in our minds, and we receive it as an inheritance, as
it were, from Adam. In a word, Everything good and true
in itself is Divine; everthing evil and false in itself is diaboli
cal; everything good and true in appearance and semblance,
thus, justice, sincerity, honor, virtue, etc., etc., is human. G
THE LOVE OF VIRTUES AND VICES; HONOR, DECORUM.
333. H onor is the general element that is present in all

the virtues, for, taken together, they all constitute what is
honorable. Thus honor is that form, the essential determi
nations of which are the specific virtues. Each virtue is a
form, the essential determinations of which are the parts of
that virtue. Decorum is the external form of the virtues;
for if they are to appear as virtues, an external is required
from which we can judge of the actual honesty and its parts.
This is the reason why decorum can be varied in so many ways,
it being possible for each form to be varied externally in a
thousand ways, and also for the states of the internal form
to be varied, the external form remaining the same. This is
our political art, to the end that minds which judge from
outward things, may be persuaded as to the things within.
334. Dishonor, on the contrary, is a form, the essential
determinations of which are vices, and every vice is a form,
the essential determinations of which are the parts of that
vice. Indecorum is its external form; for every internal form
has its external form, which is called figure and which natu
rally corresponds to the internal form.
33'5. There is no virtue which in itself is virtue or good in
itself. To be virtue, and to be so called, it is necessary that
there be a precedent affirmative and negative, a rational in
tuition that good must be chosen, a will, and an end which
we regard as good. These elements are concurrent only in
the rational mind, and therefore it is from the rational mind
alone that moral virtue can come forth. If an inanimate ma
• The italicized words and those to the text.
that follow are a later addition
202
chine should proffer coins to some poor man, this cannot be

called virtue. If one man does good to another, and does
not know that he is doing it, or if he does it with some other
intention, or from necessity, this is not called a virtue. If an
insane man renders service to society, this is not virtue but a
good thing. Thus all that is natural and necessary puts off
the name of virtue. Therefore, all virtues belong to the mind
alone. So likewise with vices. There is no vice which in
itself is vice, or 7 in itself is evil, it being the mind that makes
it a moral vice. Thus everything moral, like everything
vicious, belongs to the rational mind alone.
336. Above [no 201 seq.], when treating of the affections
of the animus, I set forth what are the virtues and what the
vices, to wit, ambition, love of self, love of country, revenge,
anger, avarice, and so forth. In themselves, all these are
either good or evil; yet they are not called virtues or vices ex
cept as proceeding from a rational mind. The more, there
fore, the mind is instructed, and the greater the understand
ing, the more is that which flows from it a virtue or a vice.
Thus the love of one's self above others is an evil in itself,
but if it is in the mind, it is a vice, and vice versa. The love
of many or of society in preference to self, is in itself good,
but it is not called a virtue unless it is in the rational mind.
Virtue, therefore, depends on the state of the rational mind,
according as this mind regards good as being true good or not
truly good, or evil. When the mind does not know whether
a thing is truly good or truly evil, it is held in suspense, and
its conscience is said to be in doubt. In this state of doubt,
it ought to do nothing because the doing is neither good nor
evil and thus is not rational, but brutish and irrational, or
like the doing of an inanimate machine. Therefore, just as
the mind judges concerning goods, so it judges concerning
virtues and vices.
337. It is therefore the rational mind that qualifies all
the affections ascribed to the animus and body. The quality
of these affections is their quality as they come from the ra-
TReading seu for sed.
203
tional mind. It is superfluous, therefore, to treat of them

here in detail, for they all insinuate themselves into the loves
and goods of the mind, and the latter, by its will, determines
them into act. This is the reason why nothing that flows
into the rational mind can be said to be a virtue or a vice,s
but only that which flows from it; and the virtue is greater
in the degree that what flows in under the appearance of good
persuades the mind that it is a virtue, when yet it is a vice.
338. The question now arises whether any love of virtues
or vices is in the rational mind naturally. That the seeds
of honor are implanted in the minds of some, or that with
some there are inclinations to what is honorable, and the re
verse, is confirmed by experience. But whatever there is
in any mind by nature-a mind which is non-existent, with
out cultivation, that is to say, which must be formed if it is
to be rational, and which possesses nothing of itself, save what
has been acquired-it seems that love of virtues is not its
property, but is the property of that superior mind which
flows in and constitutes this its nature. Add to this, that
if the love of good flows in, this good is called a virtue when
the mind views it rationally as being in harmony with the
nature of good. Thus it cannot be said that the love of vir
tue is proper to the rational mind, but only that the soul from
which that love flows in is a good soul; or also, that the mind
is naturally such that it inclines to the reception of these loves
rather than those. Thus its inclination is nothing but the
faculty of bending itself to the reception of this love or of that.
339. But in that the rational mind applies itself in both
directions-[for it applies itself not only to the reception of
what flows in from the animus, but] also to the reception of
the truly good and of the love thereof, and becomes conscious
of this good, and from the inflowing love wishes and desires
the consequence thereof in act-the love of virtues and vices
can be predicated of that mind; for by this faculty it appropri
ates these goods or these evils to itself as though they were
its own.
• In the autograph, this statement is marked "N B."
204
ANIMUS, SPIRITUAL AND RATIONAL MIND 340--342
XVI
Conclusion as to What the Animus is, What the
Spiritual Mind, and What the Rational Mind
340. The animus is a form, the essential determinations

of which are all those affections which flow in from the body,
and from the world through the doors of the senses. Over
each affection presides, as it were, a specific animus, the es
sential determinations of which are all the affections which
are parts of that affection, and so on. Such an animus is
our genius. Therefore, we speak of indulging our genius or
animus. By the ancients every genius was worshiped and
adored as a god, and over them all presided a common god;
hence Jupiter, Apollo, Venus, Mars, etc., and other specific
deities under these. In the sacred writings and in common
speech, all the affections of the animus which come from the
body are said to come from the heart, as in the expressions,
with the whole heart, or whole mind (animus), misericors
(merciful), excors (stupid), vecors (insane), etc., expressions
which have reference to the blood.
341. The spiritual mind is a form, the essential determi
nations of which are all those loves which flow in from above,
that is, from God, through His Spirit by means of the Word,
and from heaven and the heavenly society of souls. This
mind is properly called spirit, and its subject is the soul.
Thus the soul, while indeed called a spirit, is more properly
spiritual.
342. T~e rational miTl;d is a form, the essential determi
nations of which are all those loves which flow in both from
the spiritual mind and from the animus. These loves are
mingled and are'called rational. They 'are not the property
of the rational mind, for if the spiritual mind and the animus
withdraw their respective loves, the;e-are-none left. Prop
erly speaking, however, the.-.!ational mind is a form, all the
essential determinations of which are virtues and vices; for
to it belongs the consciousness of what good is and what evil,
and - ; the choosing of those things which are good, and
the dismissing of the evil. What comes from the rational
205
mind is called a virtue or a vice. Over each virtue and vice

presides the rational mind whose essential determinations are
all the parts of that virtue or vice.
343. I have also made mention of a superior mind which
I have called natural, to wit, the mind within the pure intel
lectory [no 307]. This mind is the real animus, the animus
being the universal, and the mina of each intellectory being
the singular;9 for if a universal is to exist, there must be
singulars9 from which it may exist and continue to exist.
344. That, properly speaking, the rational mind is, tha:t
which is called man. His external form does not make the
man. A monkey also is human in its face but it is still a
monkey. Wax can be molded into the human form, but it is
still wax and the simulacrum of a man. Nor does the external
form of his body constitute the man. Brute animals, even
the more imperfect such as insects, enjoy similar members and
viscera and an almost similar structure. Speech does not
make the man, for a parrot speaks, yet it is not a man. The
animus is not the man, for brutes enjoy a similar animus and
are affected by the loves of their body and their world in
like manner as man.
345. The enjoyment of a rational mind, to wit, the ability
to think, to judge, freely to decide and will-this is the man.
Moreover, a man's character is deemed by all men to be what
his rational mind is. If he indulges merely his animus and
genius, if he is stupid and dull, he is called a brute, an ani
mal, and is not recognized as a man save that there may still
be something human within him, in that he can think. The
greater, therefore, the intellect, or the more sublime the ra
tional mind, the greater is the man. If he excels over all
others, this is said to be superhuman and divine, and some
thing above the man.
346. In our own selves, moreover, we recognize that alone
to be our own which we possess in our mind; for everything
in our whole system is qualified by our mind. Therefore,
all loves, both the superior and the inferior, flow into the
• See n. 551 note.
206
ANIMUS, SPIRITUAL AND RATIONAL MIND 346-350
rational mind as into their center and there meet; and from
this mind they flow out. Thus, in the mind is the beginning
of all actions and the end of all sensations, that is, a concen-
tration of the whole man. Therefore, all other things which
are outside the mind are regarded as its instruments and
organs; and the mind neither knows nor cares to know their
nature, provided only they are of use to it as servants. More-
over, it seems as though God deemed these natural things to
be of this slight value, and set them merely in the class of
instruments; for He has not revealed to us their nature, or
how the mind acts by their means, but has merely given them
and surrounded the mind with them, that they may stand
obsequious and ever ready for every effect whereby the mind
wishes to promote its end.
347. We love only that which is pleasing to this same ra-
tional mind, as being our very own; for everyone wishes his
character to be seen through his mind; and if through his
bodily adornments, this is in order that he may show the
character of his mind. So also we hate that which infringes
on this mind, and frequently burst into anger. That we are
fearful for the body is because we fear test the mind be de-
prived of its instruments and its potencies of action.
348. In the rational mind is the countenance of the soul,
just as in the b~dy isthe~ntenanceand effigy of the ~nimus.
I Thus the rational mind can be said to be the body of the soul
because formed after the image of her operations.!
349. This mind shows the nature of the soul. If the soul
were not spiritual and immortal, a mind wherein the spiritual
and natural are conjoined could never have been formed.
Therefore, since in the mi~d is the spiritual and at the same
time the natural, that mind, being in a center of their con-
fluence, possesses all that the man possesses. Therefore it
is the rational mind that is said to be man. When this mind
is destroyed, the man perishes. He is then a spirit, for only
the soul is living.
350. This is the reason why man is said to be internal...!'!:Qd
external. The spiritual which flows into the rational mind is
'No. 348 is written lengthwise in the margin of the autograph.
207
the interior and superior man, while the natural which flows
in from the animus is the external man. The mind is that
; which perceives in itself, what the external man is persuading
to and what the internal. The external man is therefore the
same as an animal, and the internal, the same as an angel.
XVII
Free Decision, or the Choice of Moral Good
and Evil
351. (1) In respect to the liberty of the human mind, the
learned take different positions. There are those who assert
that in things divine and spiritual, man is left no liberty
save one that is shadowy and hardly recognizable. There
are some who say that full liberty is left him in things worldly
and corporeal; but others retort that this is slavery rather
than liberty, for the mind is thus held in chains by the affec
tions of its animus. Then there are those who assert that
there is no liberty whatever, though it may appear as though
there were; for we are led away either by our own loves or
by other loves which flow into the sphere of our minds, or
by some absolute divine direction which carries us off as
a torrent or sail carries a ship. Add to this [the argument]
that if there are no loves proper to the mind, but all flow into
it from above or below, then all right and decision would
belong, not to the mind, but to the soul or the body, and the
mind would seem to be made up, as it were, of their affec
tions. But let us dismiss these controversies. To take up
arguments and refute them would be a barren undertaking;
for if we stick to arguments borrowed a posteriori, that is,
from a multitude of effects, we but clash with minds, as in a
dense and dark forest, and would not extend our vision be
yond the nearest hill or the nearest pear tree. Let us climb
to higher grounds, that is, to principles and origins, or to uni
versal truths, and descend from these in due order, not turn
ing aside to refute anyone but pursuing our way to the goal.
208
FREE DECISION 352-354
352. (2) That our mind can freely decide, or freely think,
and, when impossibilities do not hinder, can freely will and
act, is acknowledged by all men. Without liberty to think
or to act in conformity with our thoughts, there would be
no understanding and no will. The very word "will" would
be an exile from our vocabulary, for we would not know what
it was. Without free decision, there would be nothing affirma
tive and negative. Add to this, there would be no virtue and
no vice, and, consequently, no morality. Moreover, there
would be no religion and no divine worship, for this demands
a free mind; no hearing [of prayers], still less any imputa
tion since nothing could be regarded as our own. Who im
putes anything to a machine? or to a man who acts from nec
essity and not from himself? Even we men give heed only
to actions from a will which is not forced. What then Divine
Justice? In a word, without the gift of liberty, we would be,
not men, but merely animals; for what would be human or
our own, if there were no freedom to be able to think and
will and act? and he who can think freely can also will freely,
for will and action follow thought. Therefore, it is not merely
being, that is the truly human, but also being able of one's
self. It was also shown above [no 311], that the one thing
which is our own, is the freedom which is called freedom
of will.
353. (3) It is also an evident truth, that without under
standing there can be no liberty, and as the understanding is,
such also is the liberty-a liberty which increases and de
creases with his understanding. Thus liberty may be called
the bride of the understanding, or the one only love of the
rational mind. There is no liberty in an infant; in adults,
there is more or less. There is none in a man insane or de
lirious, and also none in a dead man, when all understanding
is extinguished. From this, it foUows that there is greater
liberty in an intelligent man than in a stupid, in a learned
man than in an ignorant, and so forth, this being a conse
quence of the preceding.
354. (4) But because we cherish an erroneous opinion con
cerning the essence of liberty, we can scarcely comprehend
209
that it increases according to the degree and excellence of

the understanding. For we always think that man to be free,
who is more powerful, rich, and independent; thus a com
mander to be freer than a soldier, a king than his subjects,
and every man than his servant, even though the servant be the
most intelligent of men. Nay, we may proclaim that a man
shut up in a prison, or bound down with chains, is freer than
one who lives of his own right and judgment. But when we
speak of the essence and perfection of liberty, we mean, not
its external form, but its internal. In potency, though not
in act, a captive and servant may be more free than his
master. A man who is compeHed to silence may be more in
telligent than one who is continually chattering. In potency,
though not in act, a man whose eyes are bound may have
keener vision than one whose eyes are open.
355. (5) Moreover, we commonly confound license with
liberty, namely, indulging in one's genius, being subservient
to the arbitraments and lusts of the animus, being able to
give loose rein to our bodily appetites, nay, allowing our
mind, when insane,2 wholly to break out into insane action;
but this is not liberty. There is a true liberty, there is an
apparent liberty, and there is a false liberty which must be
called slavery. True liberty does not consist in being able
to think, and to act in conformity with our thoughts, but in
being able to think and judge wise]y-for it grows along with
our understanding-and to act in conformity with right
reason; that is, to choose goods and to dismiss and repel evils.
To give the reins to one's animus is to rush with body and
soul into self-destruction and to embrace true evil as being
true good. Of this, therefore, no liberty can be predicated but
rather servitude. Our rational mind is continually ruled by
loves, some of which are good and some destructive. This,
therefore, is liberty: that the rational mind be able to shake
off that yoke and to suffer itself to be ruled, not by destructive,
but by truly good loves. It is to this end that liberty is
granted us.
• Vesanus, insane from passion.
210
FREE DECISION 35~357
356. (6) If we [do not] carefully weigh liberty of de

termination and will, we cannot but form some spurious notion
concerning it, and imagine to ourselves that it is something
separate from the intellect of the rational mind, or if ad
joined thereto, that it is still something independent. Yet,
it is a quality which results from that intellect; for if it in
creases and decreases with the intellect; if there is no such
liberty in first infancy; and if its nature is such as is the
nature of the intellect; then it foHows that it is in the intel
lect as a quality in its subject.
357. (7) In order, therefore, that we may acquire for our
selves a genuine idea concerning this liberty, it is necessary
again to describe what the intellect is, and in what way it
is formed. As was shown in its due place [no 140 seq.J, the
intellect consists of mere inteHectual ideas. These are first
formed from material ideas, thought being nothing else than
the revolving and turning over of such ideas; and when they
have been collated into a certain form, the result is judg
ment or a conclusion in which the ideas presented succes
sively to the thought, are present simultaneously. It was also
confirmed above [no 102 seq.J, that ideas of the memory,
imagination, and thought are nothing but mutations of the
state of the internal sensory and pure intellectory; and that
in sensories and intellectories there can be an infinitude of such
mutations, their perfection consisting in mutability of states.
In the sensory, therefore, and especially in the intellectory,
there can be as many mutations of state as there are possible
ratios, analogues, series, equations, and varieties of forms in
numbers and geometry, even the more sublime and most per
fect. Thus there can be changes of state which are general
and particular, universal and singular, generic, specific, in
dividual, multiple both simultaneously and successively, co
ordinated and mutually subordinate to each other, and sub
divided; that is, as many and of the same nature as are the
equations in infinite calculus, with which equations and their
forms they can most fitly be compared. That this faculty
of changing its states is itself the faculty of producing ideas,
and that in it consists the power and action of the intellect
211
this we perceive in our own mind. And now, in its place,

let us substitute common names, such as intellect, ideas,
thought, principles, judgment, and so forth. They do not al
together coincide, but yet are the terms for these mutations
which are most familiar to us, and they do not delay the
perception of our intellect.
358. (8) Liberty, then, consists in the producing of changes
of state in the sensory, and consequently, in the intellectory;
that is, in inducing states which are in harmony with this
or that end. We can turn our thoughts to whatsoever quarter
we wish; and into that universal state in which we fixedly
hold our mind can flow no other ideas save those pertaining
to that state. Every thought is a form set up by essential
determinations, and into this general form can inflow none
but particular determinations which are in harmony; or, if
it be a universal form, none but singular determinations which
determine that universal form naturally. Thus, such as the
state of the mind is, such are the ideas which flow in, and
such the form which is born therefrom, and such the affec
tion of that form, or such the love. All other things, not being
in harmony with that form, are either not admitted or are
turned back, or, if they are present, they are purged. In a
word, all other things are rejected as heterogeneous and as
destructive of the form. This we manifestly experience every
moment; for if we fix our thought on any matter, we spurn
and reject all that is not like it, as something discordant.
Thus if we look upon any love of ours with intention and
desire, as, for instance, an honor to which we aspire, venery
for which we are pining, wealth which we desire, and other
like things, then the mind remains fixed in that state and
admits everything that conspires with it, and repels all that
endeavors to destroy it. Moreover, it so augments and
kindles itself that it can hardly turn from that state to an
other; and if perchance the state falls away, it is saddened,
calls it back by ruminating upon it, is dejected, and so comes
into a contrary state which is wont to bring force and violence
to our mind. But let us return to the subject of liberty.
212
359. (9) It is granted our rational mind not only to change

its states and to lapse from one thought to another but also
to become conscious of all the particular ideas insinuated in
the general state, and to contemplate them. Nay, we can
learn to know the state itself, what it is, by what love it is
ruled and how it is kindled. We can also compare this state
with another, and see which of them is the better and more
in conformity with the order of nature. It is the faculty
of doing these things which we call liberty in the rational
mind, and from them we can plainly see that the greatness
and quality of the liberty is according to the greatness and
quality (jf the intellect, and that both are conceived, born,
and formed simultaneously.
360. (10) The liberty of the human intellect, which may
be called intellectual liberty, can be reduced into several
classes, and we can then have a more distinct conception of
it; for the parts of liberty are as many as are those of the
intellect, to wit, intellection, thought, judgment, conclusion,
resolution, and will; by the latter the intellect is determined
into act.
The liberty of intellection is the least of all. We can hardly
restrain sensations or material ideas from flowing in from the
hearing, the sight, and the other senses, and consequently,
cannot prevent these sensations from stirring up the animus,
and this the rational mind, to various desires; for they are
joys and delights which soothe the rational mind and carry
it off into this state naturally. Thus the cupidities of the
animus which flow from the body and the world or human
society can hardly be prevented from flowing in, unless, be
lieving them to be temptations, we are willing to remove the
organs of our senses from them, and thus our own selves; or
unless, when they do flow in, we turn our mind away from
them-a thing which is almost beyond human nature.
Thought follows immediately after perception, and so also
liberty of thought which is its sum; for when the mind has
once been aroused by ideas, we can turn it in whatsoever
direction we please, and admit into it ideas from the store
213
house of the memory; or 3 again, we can reflect upon sepa

rate ideas which may be so many new notifications and
arousers. This liberty is the liberty most regnant in the
human mind, and from it we can see our own nature as to
what it is; can see, namely, what are the loves to which we
incline, what loves we most willingly admit, and in which we
delight to indulge. Thus, from our thoughts, it is allowed
us to perceive what the use of liberty is.
Judgment follows after thought. It consists of so many pre
viously formed principles which the rational mind deems to
be truths-principles which are so many intellectual ideas
and of conclusions formed from the ideas of thought, that
is, from the thoughts. Liberty of judgment is not so great as is
liberty of thought; for before being admitted to judgment that
they may be adjudicated matters, only those things are chosen
which we believe to be truths, or, if we do not believe in them
as truths, then, from seeing and balancing many other loves
by which we are carried away, we temper and moderate the
analysis of our thoughts so that it may appear under a human
and becoming aspect. Nay, the mind then contemplates
things present, not only from things past, but also from things
to come; for it forms a single equation, as it were, in which
all these are present; and as to things to come, it also looks
at and weighs the question of possibility. Liberty of judg
ment, therefore, is somewhat restricted to a more natural
order than liberty of thought, which is wont to be erratic.
Deeply within it, however, there may be a love which is re
strained solely from fear of the loss of some other love. But
this is a prolix matter.
Conclusion follows immediately after adjudication, for we
then make conclusion in order that our conclusion may be
remitted to the will, and by the will be determined into act.
Thus the conclusion is like the line drawn under an equation
which is then to be resolved into its parts. In this conclusion,
the nature of the liberty is clearly perceived, that is, what
its nature was in the judgment, and what in the thought. For
• Reading seu for sed.
214
in the conclusion all things are present simultaneously, and

if they do not break out into act, they are still present within,
and it is only a contemplation of the future, and the fear
thence arising as to the end desired-these being so many
resistances and, as it were, impossibilities-which delay the
act; and as soon as these are removed, the conclusion breaks
out with ardor. Thus liberty is somewhat bridled; and that
it may be bridled, there are civil laws, penalties, the esteem
of others, misfortunes, and much more. These hold back
only the act, but the intent of the conclusion must be con
sidered as already actual. There stilI remains to the mind
the liberty of dissolving this its conclusion and forming a new
one; but since for the most part, the love of self is within
it, and consequently, the love of the ideas which it esteems
as truths, this liberty is somewhat feeble.
After this liberty comes the liberty of resolution, in that
by acts the equation is now to be successively resolved into
its parts; for the several elements which were in the conclusion
are to be successively evolved by means of the actions either
of the members of the body or of the face or tongue, that
is, by speech. In this resolution there is no remnant of liberty,
for it depends on the essentials which are in the conclusion;
for the faculty of resolving the equation is not an intellectual
operation but is purely organic and dependent solely on the
intellect. Were the actions determined without the intellect,
it would ble considered as something animal, and this is not
regarded as a virtue or a vice, that is, it merits neither praise
nor condemnation. Of the will, I shall treat below.
361. (11) From the above it is apparent that there is lib
erty of thinking and liberty of doing; that, as though midway
between them, there is liberty of deciding; and that our mind
is not the arbiter in disposing as to the influx of the objects
of the senses and the allurements arising therefrom and from
the body and the world, but is the arbiter as to their efflux,
that is, as to their being determined into act.
362. (12) As concerns the liberty of thinking and judging,
this liberty is almost absolute; but the quality of the thought
is as the quality of the intellect. The greatest freedom is
215
this: Of oneself to restrain the thought from running whither

soever cupidity draws it; for if cupidity is admitted into the
thought, and not chained or inhibited at this first threshold,
it easily fills the whole mind so that the mind is no longer the
arbiter of itself. Hence, true liberty consists in the mind
being able to command itself, and to shake off the yoke of
its animus. As to how this is effected, this can be demon
strated physiologically.
363. (13) The liberty of doing is much more restricted;
for an infinitude of things stands in the way of every thought
flowing into deed. There are civil laws and penalties; there
is decorum and honor; there are perverse ambitions which
must be adorned with the garb of truth; there is respect for
persons who must be obeyed; there are the necessities of food
and clothing, for the acquiring of which there are infinite
ways which are held in view when the end is regarded; there
are ruling loves under which are specific loves; besides many
other things which must be considered as necessities. Add
to this the individual conscience, which is a bond of one's
own, and a code of sundry laws whereon are inscribed things
which restrain the mind. All these are necessities which de
prive liberty of the means of expatiating. Therefore, in re
spect to thought, liberty is complete, but in respect to deed,
it is very limited-but limited, to the end that we may en
joy true liberty and not abuse it; for the highest liberty is
to hold command over the mind that it may live in conform
ity with the order of nature, it being for this end that liberty
is granted us. How insane the human mind is, and how it
suffers itself to be ruled by an inferior master, is very evident
from experience. It is also evident that our wills must be
inhibited by laws; and likewise by our own fear lest what
rests in our minds should break out through some sign in our
action, our speech, our countenance. The greatest art con
sists in hiding one's mind.
364. (14) The liberty of deciding, whence comes free de
cision is coincident with the liberty of judging. Properly
speaking, it signifies that state when the mind is poised be
tween two goods or two loves, and when it can determine either
216
into act, and chooses that which to it appears the better. For
this end, intellect is given us, and to this is wedded liberty.
Yet there are some who decide against truths, or against their
better conscience. This is the case when the loves of the
animus prevail, which is sometimes attributed to human weak
ness. By this abuse of liberty, we injure our conscience.
365. Therefore, liberty itself, or the faculty of thinking
freely, consists solely in the mind's ability to induce what
soever changes of state it pleases, and to run from one state
into another. Each change of state produces an idea, whether
simple or compound, for the changes are as many as are all
possible varieties of thoughts and judgments. These words
are spoken concerning the essence of liberty.
366. (15) It was observed above en. 315], that it is per
petualloves which rule our understanding, and that no thought
can exist and subsist without some accompanying love which
enkindles it, love being the very life of thought. As to how
loves operate in the mind, this will be discussed in what
follows when the subject comes up. From what has been
said, however, we might seem able to infer that if our ra
tional mind is ruled by some perpetual loves, desires and
ends, there can be no liberty, or merely a liberty subject
to some love which dominates; and that in this way there
seems to be some necessity in its every operation. It is
also wholly true that, since the mind is ruled by perpetual
desires, without which a mind would not be a mind, it has
no right and decision of its own. Liberty, however, consists
in the ability of the mind to turn itself from one love to
another, that is, to reject or dismiss a love of apparent good
and evil, and to give itself up to a love of what is truly
good, being that which it judges to be the best. Liberty,
therefore, does not consist in the mind being devoid of any
love, desire, or end, for then it would cease to be mind,
but in its ability to embrace one love and reject another;
and genuine liberty, being that liberty which accompanies
a more perfect understanding, consists in choosing the best.
H evil is chosen, it is a sign of a perverse intellect, that is,
of an intellect governed by perverse loves, thus of an ab
217
sence of liberty. It is of this license that liberty is pred

icated by imperfect intellects, that is, that it alone is liberty.
According to the nature of the judgment concerning liberty,
such is the nature of the intellect. Thus there can be supreme
liberty where there is apparent servitude. The reason is be
cause that is liberty which is subject to the love of the high
est good as a master, the subordination being eminently
natural; for it is proper that the one should rule and the other
obey. That which is superior, prior, and more perfect must
give the law to that which is inferior, posterior, and more
imperfect. Therefore, if the mind subjects itself to this uni
versal law of subordination, it is supremely free. Alone, it is
unable to hold the key, since it cannot be dependent on itself.
Hence, to choose the best is to choose it that it may serve
that which is more perfect, and suffer itself to be ruled by it.
The revolt of a servant against his master, of a subject against
his king, or a soldier against his commander, is not liberty but
license, and this is destructive of the whole of society, and of
an entire army.
367. (16) In the rational mind are divers loves, and these
occupy its whole court and draw it to their sides. But, pass
ing by this phalanx of loves, let us penetrate into the matter
in distinct order and consider only, that in general there are
superior loves and inferior loves, the superior being spiritual,
and the inferior natural and corporeal. When concentrated in
the rational mind, these loves are wont to contend. The su
perior loves, being spiritual, are the more perfect, while the in
ferior are the more imperfect. The former are constant and
perpetual, the latter inconstant and apt quickly to end. That
these loves rule continually and divide the mind between them,
and when the one has dominion, the other gives away and is
suffocated, as it were, is quite evident from experience. Let us
fix our attention merely on our own selves. When our mind
has been occupied with profound and long-continued medita
tion and this is burned out4 by some corporeal loves, if we then
'AccindituT. This word means it is opposed to succendo which
to set fire to something from above means to set fire to from below.
so that it will bum downward;
218
wish to recall to mind things spiritual and more pure, we

find this to be impossible unless the former love with its
thought has first been cast out. Such is the case if we wish
to call upon God in prayer; we find that the thought can
never be pure but is clouded, as it were, and occupied with
dense darkness, and that if we wish to penetrate into some
purer thought, or from nature into spirit, it would be as
though coming through a cloud to the sun; and one cannot
thus emerge until the cloud has first been dispersed; but with
the clouds dissipated, then first does some solar ray shine
forth. Such is wholly the case when loves of the body and
the world possess the mind, and the mind, while remaining
in that state, wishes to penetrate into things spiritual.
368. (17) From the above description, it appears as though
these loves were contrary to each other because engaged in
mutual conflict; or that the affections of the animus deal
with the loves of the pure mind as though they were perpetual
enemies. Yet, when the soul joined to herseH a body, she as
sociated nature with herself, and God also seems to have
joined them together, not to the end that spiritual things
should be in combat with natural, but that they should join
covenant with each other. Full weight, however, should be
given to the consideration that the animus with all its affec
tions is given to the body as a gift; that without it the body
could not live, nor a rational mind exist; and that there is no
affection which is not lawful and which does not spring from
the universal love which is in the soul. The reason why they
are in conflict is because inferior loves wish to dominate in
the court of the mind, and to expel more perfect loves, and
thus to rule the soul itself. This would be contrary to the
order of nature, it being contrary to order for that which in
itself is inconstant and imperfect to rule that which in itself
is constant and perfect. In this way the whole of nature,
because the order thereof, would come to ruin and destruc
tion; and this, moreover, because the animus and its specific
underlying animi, that is, its affections, being devoid of
reason, know no moderation and rush whithersoever cupidity
carries them, and thus to the destruction of the body, and,
219
above all, to the ruin of the soul, as will be seen confirmed

below. Thus they ever rush into extremes, and never hold
a middle course. It is for this reason that the rational mind,
furnished with intellect, is set over them, and that it lives
in perpetual combat with them; for the soul well knows
that such liberty would defraud her republic, and thrust
herself from her throne. Therefore she offers as much re
sistance as possible until she either throws up her hands as
conquered, or is triumphant. For, from her very nature, the
soul fights against every force and assault by which the
economy of her body may be destroyed, and her spiritual
loves be extinguished or be changed into spiritual loves such
as are contrary to true spiritual loves. If, however, the loves
of the animus had wholly submitted themselves to the loves
of the soul, there would then be no combat, but man would
live supremely blessed, blessed namely, as he had been in
his first or golden age, that is, from his first infancy; but then
there would not be any intellect such as must be formed and
instructed by the senses and the affections of their animus,
and which, in order to be free, must know what good is, and
what evil, which it would not know if all things proceeded
in their due order. The several passions, therefore, are so
many heats and inciters of the corporeal life, and they are all
allowed us, if only they be of service and be called into use
with moderation.
369. (18) The mind is, therefore, set in the middle be
tween inferior and superior loves which combat with each
other and wish to take possession of the mind. Thus the
mind is like a balance, and the intellect with its liberty holds
the tongue from which hang the two scales, the one belong
ing to the body, the other to the soul; or the one belonging
to the animus, and the other to the pure mind. Into the cor
poreal scale, forces are constantly flowing like so many
weights, and these affect the mind and occupy it, being so
constantly insinuated from the world through the gates of
the senses, and also from the body, that is, from the blood,
that the mind can never be free from them. Moreover, it
is by them that it is formed to be a mind; for we must be
220
informed by way of the senses. The loves of the soul, on

the other hand, that is, pure loves, do not enter by any way
of the senses but insinuate themselves in utter secrecy, and
do not come to the consciousness of our mind, being more pure
than its purest ideas. They are like so many forces which
occupy the mind insensibly; for they were inseated in the
mind from its first stamen even to the moment of birth, so
long as there appeared to be no rational mind. From this it
can easily be judged that it is the loves of the body that will
prevail, and that as to their quality, the loves of the soul
cannot be conceived of by our mind except by an idea fixed
in things sensible, with which comparison can be instituted;
for the soul cannot herself instruct us, since nothing belong
ing to her is attached to words or can be expressed in speech.
Thus she cannot flow into the mind sensibly. From this cause
it follows that the rational mind can hardly enjoy the gift of
its liberty but, like a captive, is carried away, as it were, by the
corporeal scale. The question therefore arises, What is the
nature of liberty in things corporeal and natural, and what its
nature in things spiritual and divine? and, How can we be led
from natural liberty to some spiritual liberty?
370. (19) There is no purely natural liberty, for in the ab
sence of what is spiritual, liberty cannot be called liberty.
But liberty can be predicated of the rational mind, that mind
being able to determine itself from natural liberty to spiritual
liberty, and the reverse; for unless there were scales which
could be raised or depressed, there would be no equilibration
and consequently, no tongue. There is indeed a certain libra
tion as between various purely natural affections; for that
which prevails carries the day, and one affection is ejected
when another succeeds it. But these affections are like
weights of divers material and size which are placed upon
the same scale; for the one equany as the other presses it
down, that is, averts the mind from being raised up toward
things superior. Therefore, liberty in natural things, that
is, the casting of oneself from one love into another, is not
liberty but is rather servitude, inasmuch as the mind, which
ought to choose that which is best, is being perpetually
221
drawn either into apparent good or into evil. The liberty

of being cruel to one's enemies even when conquered, of de
spoiling one's friends of their goods, of living sumptuously,
of aspiring after eminence above others, is not liberty but
servitude; for, as said above [no 362], liberty consists in the
ability to conquer oneself. Meanwhile, the mind is given
full liberty to remove itself from things spiritual and divine,
and to determine itself wholly to corporeal loves; but against
its carrying them into act, provision is made by forms of
government, by the laying down of laws, and by the imposi
tion of punishments for crimes and for the abuse of liberty;
moreover, there are innate fears for the loss of one's earthly
happiness.
371. (20) On the other hand, there is no spiritual liberty
in the rational mind, inasmuch as that mind can have no
understanding concerning any superior love, that is, concern
ing things which are above itself. That which is superior
can judge concerning things inferior, but not the reverse.
Nor can the mind perceive that it is in any spiritual love,
inasmuch as it cannot entertain any idea thereof unless this
idea be attached to some natural love so that the mind may
understand its nature by way of comparison. Consequently,
it cannot be sensibly delighted when in that love, save that
it can imagine to itself that there is something more perfect,
more constant, less limited-something which is, as it were,
infinite, perpetual, immortal, incomparable-in respect to that
which it perceives to be inconstant, limited, finite, destructible,
mortal and a something. Yet, if it is to be able to turn away
from those things which are perceived to be something-which
are sensated and are present-faith is required; for of itself
the mind cannot perceive that it [i.e. love] is, and when im
mersed in it, it perishes as though in an abyss. This faith
is either intellectual or divine. Intellectual faith can be ac
quired by inmost reflection on things, and by inmost intuition,
yet with the coming in of material ideas, it is easily extin
guished; but divine faith is the one only faith which persuades
a mind not capable of perceiving such things. Add to this,
that when the rational mind cannot of itself possess such
222
ideas, neither is it gifted with the liberty of putting on those

states which agree with spiritual loves.
372. (21) There being liberty in things purely natural and
none in things spiritual, and the mind being unable of itself
to turn from natural things to spiritual, the question then
arises, In what does liberty consist? If we deeply weigh and
investigate the essence of human liberty, we shall see that it
consists especially in this, to wit, that our mind can shake
off natural loves, that is, can withdraw and deliver itself from
them, retaining only so much as may serve for the sustenance
of the body; for to shake off all would be to put off the man
and to deprive oneself of animal life. The mind can indeed
perceive that when eaten up with these corporeal affections,
it can never be intent on things spiritual. Therefore, the
first liberty in things natural consists in the fact that one can
withdraw the mind from things corporeal, and no longer hold
them in esteem save as things of service and as means to
things spiritual. Just as the whole body is merely the organ
or instrument of its soul, so the animus must be the instru
ment of the spiritual mind. The second liberty consists in
the fact that the mind can be instructed both by the Sacred
Writings and by the writings of others, and also by its own
reflection that there is a spiritual and a divine which is su
perior, and so can acquire for itself intellectual faith. With
this acquired, [the man] can hold his mind in the thought of
similar things and can nourish it. And when corporeal al
lurements have been removed, the mind can then be led on
from this thought to ideas harmonious with spiritual loves;
and these loves, being perpetually present, then flow in of
themselves and so are vivified and induce on the understand
ing such changes of state that it seems finally to be imbued
with some sensation of them. The third liberty consists in
this, that the mind uses the prescribed means which are called
sacred, to wit, going to church, making use of the sacraments,
adoring God, and especially imploring the Deity in prayer.
All these things are left to human minds, and they all con
stitute that liberty which is granted to the mind; and when
right use is made of them, divine grace is never lacking to
223
infuse faith and love, and Providence so rules the mind that
it can grow warm with spiritual love and zeal. Then comes
the fourth liberty, in that whenever he turns away from things
corporeal and submits himself to these things, he can be de
lighted with them; for when he is ardent with spiritual zeal,
a new intellect, as it were, is formed, which is to be caHed
a spiritual intellect. This intellect consists in the most uni
versal and perfect changes of state, not of the sensory but of
the pure intellectory. Then also the animus with its affec
tions gives way; for the several intellectories are parts and
particulars which constitute the animus, and if the inmost
essence of this animus be purified, the whole animus is held
in obsequious obedience. But in the body, this state can
never exist thus pure; it is, however, the genuine state of
liberty; for the mind then has a taste of what the highest
good is, and it chooses that which is best.
373. (22) In this way the human mind is perfected; and
it is most perfect when most fitted for the reception of su
perior loves. It is then purified, as it were, and formed anew,
that is, it is renewed and regenerated, and is harmless, as it
were, as it was in infants whose minds suffer themselves to
be ruled, not by any animus, but by the pure mind. Minds
must be reduced into the state in which they had been prior
to their formation by way of the senses, that is, by the pos
terior way. Just as bodies return, as it were, into their in
fancy, so also does it behoove minds to return and to be
forgetful, as it were, of all that extinguishes things spiritual,
that is, to expend no care upon them save only that they
may be enabled to live prudently in civil life as dutiful mem
bers thereof. Such minds, being almost spiritual and desir
ing to be set free, enter with their first steps, as it were, into
heaven and internal felicity, even while living in the body.
374. (23) From the above, the nature of the liberty of the
most perfect man or Adam is now apparent, to wit, that he
enjoyed a most perfect intellect, an intellect which was warm
from spiritual love alone, and in which the animus could not
as yet rebel and fight with the spirit of his soul. His mind
was not instructed by way of the senses. There was no de
224
praved society which could irritate it, nor could the knowledge
of any evil trouble it. His mind, being supremely rational,
was entirely subject to the soul, and the soul to his God.
Thus his mind was utterly free, for he knew, because he sensed,
that love which is the best, his mind being unfitted for any
other loves. Thus his whole will, being led to things that were
the best, was entirely free. He could also be led to worse
things, otherwise no liberty could have been predicated of
him-as experience also teaches us. His ignorance of evil
took nothing away from this liberty, for it seems to have been,
not ignorance of evil, but aversion to it as being contrary
to his nature. Evil could be present in his thought, that is,
could flow in, but none could be present in his will. Thus he
lived in the body as an image of God, or a type of all spiritual
loves. From him we have derived this, namely, that as he
willed to rise up against his Deity, and to violate the laws
of subordination, so our animus is perpetually laboring to
stir up the same combat, and this against the spiritual loves
of the soul. He, therefore, is the freest of all men who knows
of evil, is able to practice evil, but is averse to evil.
, 375. (24) He who vehemently fights with himself and
' bravely conquers his corporeal desires is more free than he
) who never enters into any combat; for the very use and exer
. cise of liberty is the conquering of self, and one cannot conquer
' if he has no enemy. This we deduce from the very nature
) of the intellect within which is freedom, that is to say, from
causes. For he who is vehemently assaulted and attacked by
corporeal loves, that is, by temptations, does indeed admit
those loves and harbor them in his mind, but, before they
come into act, he extinguishes them and restores the state of
his sensory and intellectory. Desires which are repugnant
to pure loves change the state of the mind, perverting and
twisting it; and at the same moment, spiritual loves recede
and are suffocated, the states of the two being inharmonious;
for spiritual loves demand a state that is entire and most
perfect, and shun imperfect states because they bring noth
ing that is concordant. If these imperfect states are de
termined into act, then a nature is at once induced such that
225
the state returns spontaneously and alternates its changes.

By usage we become accustomed to some particular form
and change of state. By usage the tongue learns to fold itself,
and this folding returns at the first rising of the same idea.
A muscle conforms itself to an action solely by usage; and
so in other cases; but bare effort, even the strongest, does
not teach any mode of motion. Our intellect, or the changes
of the state of the sensory and intellectory, is being culti
vated and taught constantly, even to our last years. Bare
effort can never induce a natural change of state, but the
mind is wont rather to fall back into its former state. More
over, as often [as the intellect is cultivated], the spiritual
love of the soul is enkindled as with a certain zeal and warmth,
and flows in more powerfully as though it would acknowledge
the intellect its victor, and so commences to love its mind
more singly. Thus the stronger the temptations, the greater
the gladness of the soul after the victory, and the prize, as
it were, awaits the victor. From this it is apparent that the
works of charity conduce to this state of the mind. Although
there is nothing of merit in such works, they nevertheless im
bue the mind with the faculty of receiving spiritual loves.
376. (25) Up to the present I have spoken concerning the
more perfect souls, in whom there are most perfect spiritual
loves. But there are also souls whose loves, while indeed
spiritual, are contrary to divine loves, souls, namely, which
love imperfections. Loves flow in from these souls also, but
loves which love a perverse state of mind, whence result op
posite effects. But these souls are to be treated of later.
377. (26) Finally, there remains for examination the ques
tion, Why is this free determination granted to human minds
when it is this very thing which renders the human race so
utterly unhappy? It is because of this that we are condemned
to infernal punishment, it being from this that all guilt de
rives its origin; whereas, if we did not have this freedom, we
might all have been saved. But here answer must be made
that the supreme wisdom of God demands it, and, moreover,
supreme Providence promotes it, and this in such way that
it wills that not even the least thing shall be withdrawn from
226
FREE DECISION 377
our decision, but permits men rather to rush into criminal

deeds than that it should withdraw anything from £" errde
cision. Experience itself declares this. But it is also a fact,
Which experience not only confirms but also demonstrates,
that his punishment, both in this life and in the life to come,
awaits every individual who is wicked in soul and mind.
It is also allowed us to think concerning the causes, for this
also is conceded to our freedom, provided our confirmation
is not repugnant to divine wisdom and human reason. The
first cause seems to be, that without the liberty of think
ing, judging, and acting, no intellect could have existence,
nor could our mind be conscious of good and evil. The second,
that without liberty, no virtue could have existence, nor any
vice, and, consequently, nothing moral; for the rational mind
is a form, as it were, whose essential determinations or de
termining parts are virtues or vices. The third, that without
liberty, nothing could be regarded as our own, and conse
quently, nothing as merited, necessity taking away everything
in the nature of merit. Thus there would be nothing for
which we could be rewarded or punished. Without free de
cision, there could be no favor, not even from the Deity.
Nothing should be freer than the worship of the Deity, that
is, than religion. This is the reason why we are commanded
to believe, to love the Deity. This we cannot do of our
selves; yet within us is some freedom whereby we can concur.
This is all that is demanded. Fourth: Without liberty, there
would be no human society, no association based on animi,
minds, and habits, nay, and no association of bodies. There
would be no diversity; all men would be either utterly equal
to each other or absolutely opposed, and there would be no
mutual application of anyone with another. Thus this human
world would be non-existent; for, by the equality of all
things, nature is extinguished and is non-existent, but in
diversity she is living and, indeed, in a diversity where, by
the varieties of all things, a certain harmony exists. Fifth:
Without liberty there would be no delight of life, for in
necessity all delight perishes. Therefore liberty is human
sJeligh!. Sixth: Without liberty there would be no diversity
227
of souls; consequently, no heavenly society would exist, a.

society, the form of whose government is heavenly. In a
word, the end of creation would not be obtained, the end
namely, that there shall be a society of souls, that is, a
heaven. Seventh: Therefore, it is in keeping with supreme
Divine Wisdom and with the necessity flowing therefrom for
the sake of a supremely wise end, foreseen and provided for,
that liberty be granted our minds, and that, in guarding this
liberty, and for the directing of its own ends, that is, in dis
tinguishing individuals from individuals, to the end that from
them may result a most perfect form of heavenly society,
Divine Providence shall be perpetually watchful and regnant.
XVIII
The Will and its Liberty, and What the Intellect
is in Relation thereto.
378. (1) In psychology, it is extremely difficult to search
out what the will is, rightly to distinguish it from the intel
lect, and distinctly to view its parts. The will is not the
intellect, for we can will that which goes against our under
standing, that is, against a truth that is understood, or against
our better conscience; hence the art of dissimulating which
rules in the world. We can a.lso act in accordance with our
understanding, that is, from a conscience of truth; for the in
tellect scrutinizes truths, but the will is led to act from some
love, and frequently without any understanding as to whether
it be a truly good love. Hence the saying, "I know the better
and will the worse."
379. (2) To know what the will is, we must have recourse
to those things below the will of which we have knowledge, and
this in order that by comparison and a mode of correspond
ence we may understand what it is. Below the rational mind
is the animus, and below the intellect is the fivefold sensa
tion or that common sensation which is called perception.
To the animus are attributed affections and also cupidities.
To the mind are attributed loves and also wills. Thus the
228
WILL, LIBERTY, AND INTELLECT 379-382
cupidity ·of the animus corresponds to will in the rational

mind. The ardor of cupidity in the animus is called in the
mind desire, and this is conjoined with the will. When we
thus rightly understand the relation of perception to the ani
mus, we also understand the relation of the intellect to the
rational mind. And, furthermore, when we understand the
relation of cupidities to affections, and of these to the mind,
we also understand how wills are related to loves, and these to
the rational mind.
380. (3) Now, as each affection has its own animus, as
it were, and its own special genius, so every love has its own
special mind, so that this its mind may be said to be within
it. Therefore, as many as are the affections or special animi,
just so many are the cupidities of the animus. So, as many
as are the loves or special minds, just so many are the wills
of the mind. The same parallelism occurs in all other re
spects, so that if merely the words be transmuted we come to
things which are proper to the mind.
381. (4) From this come the synonyms, as it were, will,
mind, intention, inclination, as when it is said, "This is your
mind, your will, your intention," and so forth. It is not said,
This is your understanding, save only in such matters as are
directly subject to the operations of the understanding.
382. To perceive what the will is, we must first separate
it from the intellect, that is, must consider the intellect ab
stractly from the will. Viewed in itself, the intellect has for
its object truth, and the essence, nature, and quality of truth;
nay, and also the connection of truths with each other, and
likewise the truths within goods, as, for instance, within har
monies, the affections of the animus, the loves of the rational
mind. In a word, it extends to all things in the universe
whose nature it wishes to explore. It is especially engaged
in exploring causes from effects or effects from causes-a sci
ence which is called Dialectic and also Topical.l'i The a priori
method-exploring from principles-is called the Synthetic,
and the a posteriori, the Analytic. The method of exploring
·Cf. A Phil. N. B. p. 8.
229
causes [from effects] is the same as the method by which

the intellect is born, to wit, the analytic. When the intellect
is perfected, it can then progress by the synthetic way, that
is to say, from principles which are so many truths. In
itself, however, the synthetic way is the way of the mind,
especiaHy the pure mind. It is also the way of the soul and
of angels, who laugh at our intellect; for they know the thing
of themselves, without science and demonstration, their in
tellect being subordinate to the [pure] mind by nature; but
the rational mind must needs be subject to the intellect. The
second part of the rational intellect is Logic, namely, the
drawing of conclusions from antecedents and consequents.
383. (5) Regarded apart from the intellect, the mind is
not rational but is wholly natural and is carried away spon
taneously and of itself, it being love, which is an operation of
the soul, a spiritual operation, that rules the mind. Loves
belong either to the animus or to the pure mind, and it is
these that rule the rational mind which enjoys no love of
its own or of itself. The mind always has an end, which is
also a beginning, and which is present in the means and
rules everywhere. Thus in the whole series of means, the
end is the same. It is this that is looked to in the mind, and,
indeed, in such way that whether in things past or to come,
it is this that is present. But the mind naturally carries with
it all the means which lead to that end; for nature was formed
that she may serve the mind as means while ends are in prog
ress. It is a natural thing that in time and space, the means
are distant, but not so the end, this being ever the same.
And because the end is the same in the beginnings, the medi
ates, and the last, it follows that love is the end, and that
it is this that is desired and promoted by means of effects.
Thus, in our mind we have regard to this love and to its
complement and ultimate end which was in the beginning;
and from this love, when it descends into the body, is born
bodily pleasure. Love can also ascend. Therefore, it is either
loves of the animus or loves of the soul that rule our mind
and are regarded as ends. Regarded in itself, the intellect
does not look to any end save in its own mind, to wit, when
230
it thinks, For what reason do I wish to know this thing?

and observes that there is a latent cause which rules it, which
is called the love of knowing truths, and which terminates
in some love pertaining to its own mind. From the above it
is also apparent that in itself the inteUect is the instrumental
cause of the superior mind, but should be the principal cause
in ruling the animus and its affections, and so forth.
384. (6) And now let us consider what the rational mind
is. If it is to be rational, it ought not to be carried along
from an end to an end naturally or spontaneously, for this
is called instinct, and of such a mind is predicated, not will,
or willing and not willing, but what is involuntary, being a
mind borne along to its ends without conscious knowledge.
Therefore, the rational mind, which is an internal sight, must
associate with itself an intellect; that is to say, it must not
only take into view the truths of its loves, or the ends that
are contemplated, as to what is their intrinsic nature, but
must also take into view the nature of the means, and the
order in which they are to be disposed, if the mind is to at
tain these ends; and for this, knowledge a posteriori is requi
site. When the mind associates with itself the intellect it is
then called a rational and human mind.
385. (7) The reason why it behooves the mind to associate
the intellect with itself, is because the mind is naturally car
ried along to those ends which are purely anim~l or of the
animus, that is, to corporeal and worldlypleasures. In
o~der,
therefore, that it may be led away from these and carried to
superior ends, it is necessary that the intellect adjoin itself,
inasmuch as it behooves the intellect to be the principal in
ruling the cupidities of the animus, but the instrumental in
promoting the loves and desires of the superior mind; for
when the mind leans to the affections of the body, it should
be in its ~ost activity, but when it leans to sPiritual loves,
it must be passive;6 for the latter loves dispose the ~ns
to the end, of themselves naturally, all things then flowing
in provident order apart from the intellect, if only the latter
• In the a.utogra.ph, this sentence is marked "N. B."
231
is engaged In rejecting and moderating the affections of its

animus.
386. (8) Thus, in things yet to be, the mind regards ends
as already present, consequently, also all the intermediate
ends which constitute a single series or chain. For the ulti
mate end, or rather an ultimate, is not possible without a
succession of means in nature; nor can it be promoted with
out nature, to which it clings, as it were, while the mind is
regarding the effect. That the mind comprises in itself the
mediate ends, and that nature follows spontaneously as an
instrument, is apparent from the several wondrous instincts
of brute animals. The spider fabricates its web with the ut
most art; it fastens it under the eaves; it sets itself in the
middle, seizes its prey, and involves it in its threads. Bees
pack their cells and fill them with honey for the winter; they
hatch out eggs, submit themselves to a queen, send out colo
nies, destroy the drones. Birds build their nests in workman
like fashion. All these creatures know as though from a most
perfect intellect the whole of nature-the mathematical, pneu
matic,7 and anatomical science and art. We also are ruled
by many spontaneities-by the whole economy of nature, by
chemistry, physics, mechanics. Our mind rules over its sev
eral organs, and over its whole nature; nor, after the search
ings of so many centuries, is our intellect able to discover
how it acts. Even today the brain lies deeply hidden. Thus,
when our rational mind acts through the will, we are so ig
norant that we do not know what the will truly is, nor how
it acts.
387. (9) Thus the loves of the superior or pure mind have
no need of our intellect for the following up of their ends.
When the love is pure, the ends follow the mind's love nat
urally. All that the intellect can effect is that the mind
shall acquiesce in the determining of ends which are purely
corporeal loves; for if the loves of the body are the instru
mental causes of the superior mind, they then flow in, in nat
ural order. Moreover, it behooves the intellect to be actively
7 Confer A Phil. N. B. p. 8.
232
concerned in the promoting of superior ends, but not other-

wise, in that it is a society which is carried away by so many
divers cupidities; to wit, that it abstain from those things
whereby it may be seduced. All else belongs to Providence,
which operates secretly by means of our mind which flows
into actions. Of themselves and by Providence, all the con-
sequences that follow the mind that is pure good are for its
immortal happiness. Of themselves, and by p;.~vidence, all
the consequences that follow the mind that is pure evil are
for its unhappiness. Pure evils, however, are not possible in
the rational mind, for it is then given over to its body and
animus which it loves. But let us return to the will.
388. (10) The will signifies in general the mind, and,
specifically, some special mind or determined love. And since
the mind comprises in itself all mediate ends, and also per-
ceives what does and what does not stand in the way of the
attainment of its end, therefore, the rational mind draws
means from its intellect, and arranges them in a natural
order. Moreover, the better the arrangement, the better and
more perfect is the mind. In these means there are as many
parts of the mind as there are of the intellect, to wit, thought,
judgment, and conclusion. The mind thinks when it con-
siders and reflects upon the means, and while doing this, has
in view the end to which it tends. It judges when it arranges
the means in true order, being an order wherein it contem-
plates in the means the ends which will follow spontaneously.
Lastly, it makes a conclusion, that is, wills. This conclusion
is called will; for in the win, as in an equation, are then pres-
ent all that had previously been in the thought. Thus the
will possesses in itself all the essentials of action, just as
conatus possesses all the essentials of motion. This conclu-
sion is different from an inteBectual conclusion, wherein is no
will, for then the end is not action but the ascertaining of
what is true, and thus the instructing of the mind as to what
ends it ought to love, to will, and to shun. Thus our intel-
lect can propose ends, but it is God who provides.
389. (11) Thus the mind with its thought and judgment
as to means, is ever present in the will, and in the will it
233
contemplates the action as already present. But because at

the same time it also sees obstacles and oppositions, and this
partly from its intellect, and partly from itself naturally,
therefore the will is not able to be determined into action
until oppositions have been removed; exactly like conatus
whichever strives to motion and breaks out merely on the
removal of resistances.
390. (12) Therefore, according to the number of ends, such
is the number of wills. The intermediate ends are also wills.
Thus action is perpetual will, and with the ceasing of will,
rational action ceases. In man, as the will is, such is the
action; but in brutes, as the action is, such is the will, this
being one with the cupidity of their animus. This cupidity,
however, is ruled by a pure natural mind, but not by a
spiritual.
391. (13) The will always wills to expand its internal sen
sories, just as conatus always wills to expand itself, as in the
case of atmospheres when compressed and equilibrated by
neigh boring bodies, or of springs; but it is held back by
neighboring bodies, that is, by so many intermediate ends in
which it is involved and which offer resistance. If these ends
do not resist, the will is immediately carried into open action.
Thus will is adjoined to conatus, and action to motion, like
the spiritual to its natural, or an end to its effect. Therefore,
there is not only a correspondence but so real a copulation
that will can be called rational conatus; for when life is added
to nature, that exists which is called animal.
392. (14) When the mind is in its will, it is limited and
determined particularly or specifically. It is then present in
certain fibers of the body, being those which pertain to the
action in view. Consequently, it is determined in those in
ternal sensoriola or cortical glands to which the motor fibers
correspond, especially in the cerebrum; and from these it con
templates the action of the body as though already present.
But in those oppositions which are within the will and which
surround it, as it were, it contemplates delay, that is to say,
time and space; for it contemplates nature, by means of
which it is to promote ends. Therefore it is the part of the
234
rational to have regard to delays, to the degrees and moments

of nature, that is, to the celerities and distances thereof, such
as times and spaces. Thus to time corresponds celerity of
time, and to space, distance of place, just as to motion cor
responds succession.
393. (15) Therefore, that the will may go forth into act,
the equation within it must be resolved particularly and by
way of membranes, in the same way as when we wish to re
solve an algebraic analysis or the equation thereof into its
ratios and analogies, whether by numbers, that is, arith
metically, or by figures, that is, geometrically.
394. (16) When the will thus breaks forth into act, the
act is called a determination. Thus in actions, a form is de
termined like that which was in the will. The determination
itself is effected by expansions and contractions of the cortical
glands whereby animal spirit is expressed into the nerve fibers,
and from these into the motor fibers of the body. Hence
comes an action like that which was in the will, and the
mind can run through one fiber after another, and one muscle
after another, with whatsoever celerity it wills, the muscular
system being so articulated and formed that it can answer to
every single determination of the rational mind.
395. (17) Moreover, when once accustomed to an action,
the will runs into it spontaneously; for the mind acquires its
changes of state by use and cultivation, and so reverts to the
same idea spontaneously; and, by the same use, all things
on the way become so natural that they serve their principal
as instrumental causes.
396. (18) Since, therefore, the will is a rational conatus
and carries with it a nature such that it wills to expand its
sensoriola, but in a way determined into the form of an action,
the question arises, How is this effected physically in the com
mon sensory? or, When the mind is in its will, what is the
nature of the change of state in the sensory? It is not the
same as in the ideas of its intellect, which are so many changes
of state. It is wholly different in the will and its loves and
desires, that is to say, in its determinations of those sensories
which it wills to expand, some more weakly, others more
235
strongly, in order to produce its actions. From this arises

a form of forces which is like the form of modes or the modi
fications which consist in the bare conatus of expanding its
glands. Thus the will can exist and subsist both simultane
ously with the mutations of the inteHect, and separately there
from. In this way, then, the physical cause of will seems to
be made intelligible.
397. (19) As concerns the liberty which is commonly
ascribed to the will, this derives its origin from the fact that
we declare ourselves able to will a thing, and not to will it,
to determine it into act, and not to determine it, to will what
is contrary to our better conscience or to the persuasion of
our intellect, thus to dissimulate, deceive, and contrive wiles.
But the proximate cause of the action is then taken for the
remote cause, as is wont to be done in several other matters.
This is the reason why the will is commonly taken for the in
tention and for the mind itself; for when he thinks and judges
concerning means, the mind can vary them, can choose others,
can change its mind, nay, and also its ends, and this with the
aid of the intellect which it is able to consult. Thus, in the
act of thought, the mind and the intellect are for the most
part conjoined, but later they are separated, according as
the love and will, the nature of the mind's desire, carry them
along. Thus the mind can bring to its will as a concluded
matter, other means and other ends; it can change those that
have been brought in, can multiply them, divide them, sub
tract from them; nay, it can take away the whole of that
will, and substitute a new will, according as it takes note of
success. For this reason, when the mind associates itself with
the intellect, liberty can be predicated of it, provided it is
not then carried away by ·its loves and there is no liberty.
In this way, liberty is predicable of the will; for the mind is
able to judge the whole progress of means-when they are
to be determined into act, how, and how far.
398. (20) If, however, we look more deeply into this lib
erty, it does not seem to be separated from liberty of the in
tellect, that is to say, from free determination, but to be
coupled with it. Without liberty of the intellect, there would
236
DISCOURSE 398-401
be no liberty of the mind; and liberty of the mind consists

solely in this, that it can obey its intellect, or not obey it.
399. Meanwhile there is a universal will which is made up
of the several wills which are below it. There is a common
wm, which is composed of other wills as its parts; this will
is then called mind. There is a general, a specific, and an
individual will. Thus the will may be divided into genera
and species, and one will is subordinate to another and co
ordinate with still others, exactly as was previously predicated
of the intellect [no 388]; for ~s many as are the means, just
so many are the intermediate ends, and just so many the
wills. In a word, every will has regard to an effect wherein
is an end, and so to a future event.
400. No liberty and no will is left to the soul so long as she
remains in her body, inasmuch as she does not act from any
previous deliberation; for with her, an knowledge and all in
tellect is connate, and she is herself pure knowledge and in
telligence. Thus she need not consult or consociate with any
intellect, being consociated and most closely conjoined there
with by nature. Then, she flows of her own nature into the
sphere of the rational mind, and her operations are so many
spiritual loves which are kindled when the loves of the body
and the world are removed, but which otherwise grow cold.
The soul, moreover, is held to act in accordance with the will
of the rational mind, the latter being unable of itself to pro
duce action. This belongs to the soul as being the principal
cause; and necessarily so; for unless the soul condescended, the
whole corporeal machine would fall to utter ruin, and the sen
sories be broken up. But whether an action be contrary to
her nature or in accord therewith, she must needs consent to
it, and so must either love her mind or hate it. This is the
reason why none but God Himself knows the state of the soul.
XIX
Discourse
401. Discourse, or the explanation of intellectual ideas by
material ideas which are so many vocal expressions whence
237
comes speech and conversation, is effected, not by influx, but

by correspondence, as in the case of hearing when it passes
over into sight. Thus, just so many changes of the state of
the sensory are formed, and to each of these correspond
forces or expansions of the cortical glands commanding the
muscles of the tongue. This correspondence is effected by
use and cultivation, for whether an idea of the mind is to be
pronounced in one way or another, there is still a corre
spondence.
402. The action of the tongue, however, cannot be carried
on in the absence of will, for will is the beginning of actions,
just as conatus is the beginning of motion. Therefore, from
the thought, the idea must be carried into the will. This is
the joint operation of the intellect and the mind. In this
way, the whole thought is carried, as it were, to a conclusion,
which then coincides with the will.
403. How distinctly separate the intellect is, and how dis
tinctly separate the mind, is nevertheless apparent in all dis
course, for speech or conversation is the intellect speaking.
By the connection of material ideas or vocal expressions, by
their different dispositions, conjunctions, and by active, pas
sive, simple and compound words which in part are occult
qualities, it produces a form which can be understood by the
rational mind, and so can be elevated from the sphere of in
ferior ideas into that of superior ideas where the mind takes
hold of and understands an inner sense, the nature of which
does not appear except from the connection. ~he mind, on
the other hand, is present with its loves, and it stirs up and,
as it were, vivifies the conversation, furnishing not only the
sound but also the ardent vocal expressions. Moreover, it
\ breaks out into gestures, facial expressions and ways of acting,
) these being images of the mind. Thus the nature of the latent
an}.Il1us is usually clearly apparent from-the ~h, how
soever simulated; for it is wont to be kindled by the thought
and speech when dwelling long on the same subject.
404. From discourse it can be seen what is the nature of the
communication between the intellect and the mind, and espe
238
HUMAN PRUDENCE 404-406
cially what is natural to the mind and intellect, and what

spontaneous. But this matter is somewhat prolix.
These points have been thought out only slightly.
xx
Human Prudence
405. Human prudence, called by others the providence of
the rational mind, consists chiefly in so thinking out and
ordinating the means to a good end that the end may follow
as though spontaneously, in imitation of nature; that is, that
the disposition and ordinating of the means may be as though
natural, and may not seem to have proceeded from some
previous intellect. This presupposes a cultivated and more
perfect intellect, and also a mind which is concordant with
such intellect. Nor does the end betray the intention. The
greater the end, the better the prudence; for what is called
prudence presupposes good; at least it presupposes that which
is true or truly good in the intellect. If the prudence is to
be supreme, it is requisite that the best end be had in view,
to wit, the preservation of society, of the fatherland, of reli
gion, of the glory of the Divine, and the like. When man pro
poses, God disposes, that is, Divine Providence concurs with
human providence. In such case, the mind does not regard
any end, not even the ultimate, save as an intermediate, unless
in the ultimate is present that which is the first end. With
the man who aims at this end and thus regards an other ends
as intermediate, it is not requisite that his prudence be active
of itself; it is rendered active by a superior love, and the
means come forward as if of themselves.
406. Prudence is requisite, in that human minds are so
utterly diverse, some inclining to evils, and some to goods.
Without such diversities, there can be no means promoting
an end; for each individual is an instrumental cause and a
means to some superior end. For the attaining of a good end,
evil minds also may be of use. The devil is often of use in
promoting the best end, as when Judas, being inspired, be
239
trayed the Messiah. This, however, was done, not by com

mand, but by consent. There is an infinitude of means to a
single end, so that there is no need to seek evil means but
only to admit them by consent.
407. Human prudence extends to all actions in civil life,
especially in an evil society, that is, among the wicked; and
this, both for the protection of oneself and for the promotion
of an that is for the welfare of society. But there is a civil
prudence and a moral, and also a universal prudence and an
individual, and there are genera and species thereof.
XXI
Simulation and Dissimulation
408. Whether true or false, things are to be simulated or

dissimulated entirely according to the genius of the age, human
inclination, and circumstances. They are all measures of
prudence, and also, when minds incline to evil, of malice and
cunning. Thus simulation is a virtue and it is also a vice;
for it is the means for the attainment of an end. Thus, as
the end is, such are the means that are to be held in view;
for deeds are regarded from the will [within them]. Even
supreme acts of charity, love, benevolence are evil if simu
lated for the purpose of deceiving. So in all other cases.
409. Simulation and also dissimulation is always an ex
ternal form of the mind, consequently, of the body, the in
ternal form which is hidden remaining the same. Dissimula
tion is a vice if externally we feign virtues and assume a
\ mind filled with perfect love, for the purpose of attaining an
imperfect end or love; as, for instance, if we feign friendship
'} when our mind is desirous of revenge, pity when we are piti
less, or piety when our mind is impious. The vice is always
greater according as the loves represented are better. Such
is the nature of the actors of the wQ.tid, and the true comedians
in the theater of the globe. Simulation and also dissimula
tion is a virtue if we c-;;ceal good ends while they flow, as
though spontaneously, through means which are of pru<!ence;
240
CUNNING AND MALICE 409-412
nay, and also in cases when, among the evil, we pretend our
selves to be outwardly evil, but still in a way that the simula
tion does not flow from the inmost things of the form, and
that we do not insinuate ourselves into the minds of others
by means of their proprial inclinations. When at last they
have become friends and brothers worthy of confidence, their
animus can be turned. But to describe this art would require
innumerable pages, for the arts [of simulation] are countless,
and one is never like another.
410. It is to be observed that there is no affection of the
animus which does not present an expression of itself in the
body-in its face, its actions, its gesture, its speech-nay,
and also in the very eyes. The art of simulation consists
chiefly in this, that the countenance and the external fo~ms
differ from the internal, and we put on a countenance which
is suited to a contrary affection, and, moreover, draw forth
from the intellect such confirming reasons that the countenance
is believed to be genuine.
411. From the above, it follows that the intellect is given
the power and right to command the mind'§~~ll, but not the
mind itself; for the mind rules universally in the will, but
the intellect, favoring it, brings in and connects the means
which tend to that end which the mind is continually con
templating. Thus the change of state of the intell~al ideas
may be one thing, and that of the will quite another; and they
may be so separated that the one can remain when the other
changes; for change of state is one thing, and a concourse of
expansion determined to certain sensoriola is another.
XXII
Cunning and Malice
412. Cunning is the securing of evil ends by deceit under
an appearance of goodness and with a countenance of hon
esty and virtue, that is to say, under pretense of public wel
fare and of religion, or under the appearance of love toward
another, to the end that we may give blandishment to the
241
desires or wishes of that other, and this with consciousness

and knowledge. The cunning is greater if the end, though de
praved, be veiled over by some such appearance, and seem
worthy of the approval of all men, and this by means of in
tellectual colors for the delineating of the matter in beautiful
fashion. Sometimes this is the genius of an entire age; and
it prevails in republics and kingdoms whose ministers are the
more praised, the more artfully they deceive others. The sem
blance of honesty, however, still remains; for cunning never
regards any [such] ends as the ultimate end but only as in
terminable means. To enumerate the arts would be a lengthy
matter. It also prevails among lesser societies, and between
comrades; and the friendship under which it mostly sports is
not a complete friendship. An utterly deceitful man is a
friend to none but himself, being a supreme lover of himself.
At the present day, this cunning is called prudence, all else
being called either sincerity or simplicity.
413. Malice, on the other hand, is devoid of the simulation
of any virtue but favors and strives after evil from its very
nature, without any pretense of truth and honor, so that,
unless it acted against a better conscience, it would be acting
against its own. It is not touched by any shame for crime,
or by any fear of punishment. The malicious man, though
he knows truths and virtues, yet hates them. The cunning
man does not hate virtues but prefers his own depraved loves;
and he gradually deceives himself into believing that his vice
is a virtue, and confirms his conscience by acquired arguments.
Usage and frequent exercise induce an animus, and make
mutations of the mind to be as though natural.
XXIII
Sincerity
414. Sincerity is the opposite of simulation and dissimula

tion, so that the sincere man says what he thinks. It exists
in good men and in bad. It is praised even when the in
clinations are evil, because it is then a sign of a truth not
242
JUSTICE AND EQUITY 414-416
well understood, and there is no intention to deceive. A sin

cere man can be the friend of all. Sincerity comes from prin
ciples, in that the man believes simulation to be a vice; or
from principles of honor; or from habit, in that the man has
not been accustomed to transform his countenance. A sin
cere man is never admitted into societies of the wicked as
a true friend.
XXIV
Justice and Equity
415. Our intellect not only reduces matters into a sum, and
thinks, and ponders, it also judges and concludes; that is to
say, in its several matters, it is ruled by judgment and de
termination. Yet the intellect is ruled by the mind and its
desires, and these have the effect, that points which favor
them are insinuated into the judgment with greater pleasure
than those which oppose. Thus, since there are as many judg
ments because as many desires and wills as there are minds,
it follows, that among so many judgments, many minds can
not themselves make decisions. In order, therefore, to ascer
tain what mind judges more truly, justice is required, and
this among many when they disagree, and in respect to every
matter which can ever come into our thought.
416. Thus, in all cases where form, order, and laws obtain,
as in oneself and one's own mind, in larger and smaller so
cieties and among kingdoms, there are constant discussions,
litigations, and controversies, and as a result, civil and natu
ral laws, jurisprudence, judges, kings, magistrates, etc. The
same is true of the sciences, all of which are concerned with ad
judicating as to what is true and what good; and everyone
is attracted to that opinion to which his mind and animus
carry him. If the mind were not ruled by the animus and
its cupidities, man would know from himself what is just and
equitable, and perpetual consensus would rule. Moreover,
ignorance, persuasion, and presumption pervert minds, as also
do the arts of politics. In the absence of the love of self,
there would be no need of a code of justice.
243
417. Since there is that which in itself is true, in itself good,

and in itself just, this is perfect in God who is verimost truth,
goodness, and justice. Moreover, conscience itself dictates
justice. Therefore, in order that man should not act against
his better conscience, and commit injustice, and so destroy the
commonwealth and his own self, he is restrained either by
public punishment as to his body or possessions, or from Provi
dence by misfortunes, or by the pangs of conscience, or by
eternal punishment as to his soul. All these restrain the mind
lest it rush into flagitious deeds, and are punishments for the
abolition and uprooting of evil.
418. Equity, on the other hand, corresponds to equilibrium
in nature. When natural equilibrium is disturbed, there comes
disordered motion; nature is, as it were, confused, and one
thing clumsily stirs up another, assails it, destroys it. Then,
by the purer and more perfect forces which are within, they
are again brought back to their equilibrium. Such also is
the case in our body and in human society, to the end that
dissensions may be composed. To render to another that
which is his, and to take from another that which is not his,
etc., is called being equitable or well balanced, as it were.
xxv
Science, Intelligence, Wisdom
419. Science is the knowledge of all those things which are
in any way insinuated into the memory and are there retained.
They are usually insinuated either immediately by way of
the senses, especially hearing and sight; or by means of
teachers; or by means of books containing all the sciences
of things; or by self-reflection and the bringing forth of some
new truth or principle, this being termed the offspring of one's
genius. He, therefore, is a scientist, a learned man and
erudite, who knows and can memorize many sciences, experi
ments, histories. Such a man is believed to be intelligent,
but the two do not always go together. A child able to re
cite whole books from memory can be a thorough scientist,
244
SCIENCE, INTELLIGENCE, WISDOM 419-420
yet it does not follow that it is intelligent. With men, science
must be acquired; with beasts, it is connate, but is not repro
duced in the same way as with men. Not only material mat
ters can be held in the memory, but also such as are purely
intellectual, as, for instance, philosophical subjects, and con
clusions, many of which can be reduced into a single conclu
sion, and so on continuously. Thus the memory can be filled
with all manner of things.
420. Intelligence is the ability to reduce the things of the
memory into a perfect order and perfect forms, to deduce
truths therefrom, to search into hidden matters, and from the
past to draw conclusions as to the present. To do this is to
be a philosopher as though by birth. There are many depart
ments of philosophy and physics into which, from things of
the memory, the philosopher penetrates and has penetrated,
by his own intellect, and from which, by reflection, he pos
sesses many truths in his memory. Such a man is intelli
gent; for in his intellect the pure intellectory concurs with
a certain superior natural which teaches him rightly to con
sociate the ideas of his memory into their due forms, that is,
to coordinate and subordinate them, and within which, from
itself, science is present universally. Without this there would
be no intellect; that is to say, without a natural logic, di
alectics, topics, grammar, mechanics, acoustics, optics,S etc.
Moreover, a certain natural law is connate with every indi
vidual, all that is lacking being the particular ideas which
it may reduce into order. The more apt one is, and the more
the things which he draws from himself-for there is here an
immense difference-the more intelligent he is. A great many
men merely feign intelligence, in that they vend as their own
many of the intellectual things comprised in a doctrine which
has been conceived and brought forth by others. There are
also men who are unable to be intelligent because lacking in
a knowledge of things, that is, by reason of their ignorance
for they then wander as in shade-and who yet exhibit a
gift of ingenuity in those things which they do know. The
• See A Phil. N. B. p. 8.
245
intellect ever increases with age, and is then called judgment;

that is, the man is said to possess ripe judgment. The differ
ences that intervene are innumerable; for a man can be
intelligent in one branch of study, and not in another. To
be intelligent in all, is rare, though all that is lacking is
application.
421. Wisdom. He is wise who in all things has regard to
an end, chooses the best-that is, makes right use of his lib
erty-and .embraces what should be embraced, and shuns
what should be shunned. The wise man is always honorable,
that is, loves virtue. He considers himself as a part; per
forms the offices enjoined on him from a sense of duty; sub
jugates the animus, and suffers the pure mind to act., The
wise man loves worldly and corporeal things as means for
the sake of use, but otherwise, he despises them, and the abuse
of them. The wise man loves intelligence as a means, but
otherwise, and if it leads the mind into error, he hates it.
Intelligence and wisdom are rarely conjoined, in that intelli
gence is very .erroneous and imperfect and supplies the mind
with reasons for being insane and obeying the cupidities of the
body; thus it takes away wisdom. The wisest man is he who
loves his neighbor as himself, society as many selves, and
God above self; who directs his actions with this in view, the
actions being regarded as means. So far as man departs
from this rule, he recedes from wisdom. The wise man is
known, not from his speech, but from the direction of his life.
A peasant can be wiser than the 'greatest philosopher, for wis
dom is divine, while intelligence is human and is called phi
losophy. It often happens that the one recedes and dimin
ishes so far as the other advances and increases. It is the
wise alone who are truly loved by sincere men and by God.
Moreover, Divine Providence breathes upon them, that ascent
may be made. There are men who are wise by nature, just
as there are men who are honorable; and there are men who
are wise from practice, and also from intellect. If the wisdom
is from intellect, it inspires intelligence, and intelligence then
inspires wisdom. Wisdom, therefore, is a property of the
mind and not of the pure intellect.
246
CAUSES WHICH CHANGE STATE OF MIND 422-424
XXVI
The Causes which Change the State of the
Intellect and Rational Mind, that is,
Pervert or Perfect it.
422. There ere connate causes, being those which draw

their origin from the state of the soul, and also from the
formation in the maternal womb. There are acquired causes,
being causes arising from the non-cultivation of the mind.
There are causes pertaining to the animus, and, furthermore,
causes pertaining to the body. But the mind is affected in
divers way in respect to science, intelligence, or wisdom.
423. Connate causes flow from the soul because the soul
of the offspring is drawn from the soul of the father, whose
nature is transferred into the offspring. There can be no state
of anyone soul entirely like the state of another. The soul
constructs for herself an organism after her own image. Thus
she also forms the nature of the rational mind, that is, its
faculty. Therefore, as the soul is, such by nature is the mind
or its faculty. This is the reason why children, in their ani
mus, are like their father, and why frequently the grandfather
is reborn in the grandson. The soul of every individual is
a spiritual form, and the loves of the mind are spiritual. The
difference consists in this, that one soul loves what another
hates. A soul of a divine nature loves the heavenly society
and God, but a soul of a diabolical nature hates the heavenly
society and God. Thus there are opposite loves in the soul
herself, and it follows that whenever the spiritual mind flows
into the sphere of the rational mind, contrary loves are in
sinuated. Thus some are born for wisdom and some for in
sanity. This insanity, however, does not prevent the mind
from the possibility of being highly intelligent and of becom
ing scientific, erudite, and learned, even to the knowing of
what wisdom is better than others, although it may hold it
in hatred. For all are born to intelligence, but not all to wis
dom. They who are born to wisdom are called the elect.
424. Causes connate by reason of formation in the maternal
womb. The soul is the father's, being that inmost determi
247
nation to the human form which afterward is procreated or

conceived in an eminent manner. For the soul is introduced
immediately by the father, together with its pure intellectory,
wherein like substances are procreated in order; and, for the
use of the soul, the mother contributes in the ovum every ex
ternal form, and supplies to the humors all that should be
contained therein. But since the mother's sensories and the
embryo are in somewhat close communication, it follows that
the infant can put on the genius of the mother mingled with
that of the father; for in the offspring, the soul is from the
father, but the animus is from both. From this it follows
that, according to the accidental and natural mutations of
the animus in the mother, so the organism of the infant's in
ternal sensory can undergo mutations; that is to say, its mem
ory may be apt for the reception of objects or for knowing,
and also for understanding; for all the faculties depend upon
the form of the internal sensory and its connection with its
neighboring forms, superior and inferior. Add to this also,
that the maternal juices which the embryo imbibes may be
affected by some morbid constitution; likewise, that mishaps
may occur in the gestation, such as pressures, contusions, and
the like, and also in the new-born infant from the foster
mother or nurse, from her milk, from accidents, from the care
lessness or malice of the nurse. All these circumstances can
contribute to the inability of the rational mind to be duly per
fected, or to its deriving some natural blemish. But what
ever the blemish thus derived, it is an external blemish and
not an internal blemish of the soul herself, and the soul is
thus rendered powerless to operate into her proximate organs,
and through them into the more remote.
425. Among acquired causes, the principal one is that the
mind is not cultivated, or is not rightly cultivated, as, for in
stance, if the mind is not cultivated by the sciences, and this
in a natural order, so that nothing previously occupies it
which should occupy it later, or so that the mind is not 0C
cupied with things to which it does not naturally incline;
also if the mind is not aroused by the love of perfecting itself;
for love or the ambition of being eminent above others in
248
CAUSES WHICH CHANGE STATE OF MIND 425-427
science, intelligence, or wisdom, is what mainly contributes

to the perfecting of the mind. In many men, this ambition
can be aroused. When the mind is not cultivated, it remains
in the state of its own ignorance; for in the absence of ideas
of the memory and imagination, the rational mind can in no
way unfold its nature, and exhibit its ability. The mind is
like a workman who does not know how to work without in
struments; for the intellect is the principal cause, and the
memory and therefrom the imagination the instrumental cause.
Thus, in the meanest rustic whose mind is uninstructed in
any science, there might exist a mind greater than in the
prince of philosophers. Thus the greatest endowments and
the loftiest genius often lie buried in men of the utmost ob
scurity, and often they are brought to light by a singular
providence. Meanwhile, they appear like dry sponges, like
dregs, and a barren field sometimes overgrown with thorns.
426. There are causes pertaining to the animus, in that,
whether naturally or by reason of habits, or from some other
cause, such as misfortunes, excessive joys, bodily disorders,
the animus can become sick, can desire things not desirable,
can overshadow the intellect of its mind, can be unwilling to
admit anything which does not flatter that special animus.
Thus men spurn not only intelligence itself but also wisdom;
they hold these in hatred, and believe in everything which
agrees with their own love. In a word, so far as the animus
wishes to dominate in the rational mind over the pure mind,
so far is the rational mind prevented from being perfected;
for it is loves that distract that mind and disturb it and make
it sick. And not only do they disturb it but they obscure
it with a kind of ignorance, as is the wont with pride and
haughtiness, avarice, and other base loves. Hence comes con
tempt of the sciences, of intelligence, and of wisdom. More
over, the animus infects the animal and sanguinary spirits,
and widely spreads its poison; for the animus flows into the
form of the body immediately, and corporeal causes are
aroused, and these joint operations destroy the life of the mind.
427. The corporeal causes are numerous, such as the many
diseases which affect the humors, especially the red blood and
249
the purer blood or animal spirit. Such diseases are innumer

able, there being a great number of diseases which defile the
blood. Hence, all the causes of disease, such as harmful
foods, poisons, drinks, and every kind of intemperance, are
causes destructive of the mind; for the blood, when vitiated,
draws the animus to its side and consequently, the mind.
Naturally, the animus depends upon its intellectories and the
common form of the intellectory; but externally it depends
also upon the state of the purer blood or animal spirit. If
these become diseased, the mind is wont to be insane, nay,
to become delirious; but it returns to itself as soon as the blood
is restored to health. From this it follows that these changes
of state are external, not internal. As to how the case is,
this can be demonstrated. Through the sensories or cortical
glands there is a continual flow of sanguineous spirit, to wit,
from the arterial vessels into the fibers. Thus, according to
the nature of this sanguineous spirit--as, for instance, if it
be too heated, too cold, too sparse, slower than is proper, too
fluid; or if it be mingled with heterogeneous or homogeneous
parts, or remain in the cavity of the gland; or if it do not flow
in or flow out, then at once the sensory becomes unable to
run through its change of state; consequently, it cannot bring
anything forth from its memory, and so can neither imagine
nor think. Moreover, by things heterogeneous both from
within and from without, it can be aroused into incoherent
and irregular motions, whence come deliriums. The like is
wont to be the case in burning fevers, apoplexy, epilepsy,
paralysis, catalepsy, the disease tarantism, loss of memory,
and catarrhal and other disorders. These are the ordinary
causes pertaining to the body. There are also extraordinary
causes whereby the cerebrum itself, and thus the common sen
sory, being the external form of the sensory, is injured, de
stroyed, compressed, lessened, such as wounds received, hy
datids, induced tumors, and innumerable injuries of the same
sort, of which some can be healed and others are incurable.
That in this way the reasonings of the mind, that is, the human
intellect and with it the loves, undergo signal mutations, is
confirmed by daily experience.
250
LOVES OF THE SOUL 428-430
428. From the above causes, which diminish or take away

the mind's ability to act, judgment can be made as to the
causes which perfect it; for from a recital of the several causes,
comes a knowledge of the opposite. Meanwhile, it is incum
bent on us to exercise the greatest care, that there be a sound
mind in a sound body, that is, to indulge the body and the
animus in such way that the mind remain always sound.
XXVII
Loves of the Soul, or Spiritual Loves
429. To know what the affections and loves of the rational
mind are, it is necessary that we consider not only the affec
tions of the animus, of which we have already treated, but
also the supereminent loves or affections of the soul. These
are called superior loves, and the others inferior; these are
spiritual, and the others purely natural or corporeal. ·And
since the rational mind possesses no loves of its own, but
suffers itself to be ruled and drawn away either by superior
spiritual loves, being those of the soul, or by inferior corporeal
loves, being those of the animus, it is necessary that we know
what the loves of the soul are, or rather the loves of our spirit
ual mind, and what their nature, it being from them that
those virtues and vices flow which are the essential determi
nations of the human mind.
430. All the loves of the soul, which may be called eminent
or spiritual affections, are universal. Indeed, in themselves,
each and everyone of them potentially embraces in. general
all the affections which can ever exist specifically and in part.
Specific and particular loves flow from some universal love
as from their fount, and are like rivulets which cannot come
to sight save in the animus and mind. There they are de
termined into certain genera or species, all of which, however,
look to some universal love in the soul. When they descend
from this love as rivulets, they are wont to be defiled on the
way by imperfections which are adjoined to nature. Thus
251
they are almost unrecognized as derivations from so pure a

fount. That the animus is able to desire or love, this it de
rives from its form, as also from its connection with the soul
by means of the rational mind. Therefore it is the labor of
almost the whole of science to enable men to subordinate
particular loves under specific, and these under universal loves ;
that is, to reduce loves into their classes, and to perceive in
what way they flow from universal or spiritual loves. This
is the true psychological and pneumatic science.9
431. All souls are purely spiritual forms. Thus all minds
and their loves, whether good or evil, are purely spiritual; for
the spirit, whether good or evil, is nevertheless purely a spirit
or purely a mind and has loves purely spiritual, that is, uni
versal, wherein are contained the beginnings of inferior and
purely natural loves. A good angel and an evil angel or
devil, is purely a spirit, and the loves of both are purely spirit
ual. The difference is that that which a good spirit purely
loves is the opposite to that which an evil spirit loves; this
it is said, he hates; for there is pure love, and pure hate; and
pure hate is a pure love of what is contrary. Thus spiritual
loves are both good and evil; yet they are all universal, su
perior, loves of the soul, most perfectly good or evil. But
since good and evil, like truth and falsity, are opposites, and
in anyone subject there may be a mixture of good and evil,
of truth and falsity, therefore, because of this mixture, it is
the accepted usage in speech to call that impure which is not
purely good, or that utterly impure which is purely evil.
Thus, by eminence a love is called a love of good, although
it may also be a love of evil which by its very nature is con
joined with hatred of good. But in the following pages, in
order not to make confusion of ideas, we wish to use the words
mind and purely spiritual love, and not pure mind or pure
spiritual love; for, because of acquired ideas, we are hardly
able to discern that that is impure which is not purely good
or purely true. Properly speaking, all that is impure which is
• Confer A Phil. N. B. p. 8.
252
mingled with imperfections below itself. Thus the human ra

tional mind is never pure.
THE LOVE OF A BEING ABOVE ONESELF.
432. The first and supreme spiritual love or love of the

soul, and the most universal, is love of a Being above one
self, from whom one has drawn and does perpetually draw his
essence, and in whom, through whom, and because of whom,
he is and lives. This is the first of all loves, for nothing can
exist and subsist from itself save God, who exists in Himself
and alone Is who Is. Because the soul feels this in herself,
therefore, in her this supreme love is innate, and in us the
love is divine.
433. There is likewise a purely contrary love, also spirit
ual and supreme, to wit, pure hatred of the Divinity or Being
above oneself. This love is called diabolic. From it we learn
the nature of good love, and from good love, the nature of
evil love, there being an infinitude of intermediary differ
ences. This love is called the love of evil, and the mind an
evil mind, such as is the mind of certain souls. No one
soul is absolutely like that of another, nor should it be if
there is to be a society of souls, and a most perfect form of
society. An evil spirit or diabolic mind does indeed feel in
himself that there is a Being above himself, from whom he
has drawn his essence, that He is to be loved above himself,
and that the love must be testified by adoration; but, though
acknowledging this, he is yet indignant, invidious, and re
bellious against himself; he hates the truth that such is the
case, and so loves himself above Him. Hence comes per
petual incurable hatred, so that he would wish to destroy
himself a thousand times if at the same time he could de
stroy that superior Being without himself and in himself, which
cannot be destroyed. The conscience of such a mind is in
anguish when not doing something contrary to a better con
science; and it does this something because inmostly and from
its very nature it hates truth and would love perpetually to
destroy it. Moreover, some rational minds seem to be images
253
of the spiritual mind; far be it that such is the state of their

soul!
THE LOVE OF A COMRADE AS ONESELF.
434. The love of a comrade as oneself, or love of another

equal to love of oneself, is also a spiritual love; for the soul
or spiritual mind recognizes another soul and mind as its
comrade, and a member of society, that is, of the Divine king
dom. This, moreover, flows from the nature of the case, and
also from the first or most eminent of all loves.
435. From nature: Of itself, a unit or part is as though
nothing save in relation to the many parts with which it is;
thence exists a form of such parts and the affections of the
form. No harmony is possible save the harmony of many
parts taken together, the harmony arising from the mode in
which they are united with each other. Thus there is no
felicity of souls save the felicity of many; nor any form and
conjunction save by love, being the love of another as of one
self. All that is in another is communicated to oneself and
appropriated as one's own. Hence results the multiplied felic
ity of all, and this is concentrated in each one.
436. From Divine Love: When one loves his comrade as
himself, it is not because of the comrade but because of the
image of oneself in that comrade; and when the love is re
ciprocal, it is because of the image of that comrade in oneself.
Consequently, it exists in order that the comrade may become
a partaker of the love and of the felicity resulting therefrom;
and thus, that the harmony of all the comrades who constitute
the whole society may transcribe joy and felicity into oneself,
and from oneself, in whom the idea of the whole is thus con
centrated, into each one, and so into all. In this way is
aroused a felicity beyond all expressible felicity, being inmost
and, indeed, Divine. And since that love is not because of
self, nor principally because of society, but because of a Being
above oneself to whom one is united by love, one loves the
comrade through love toward Him with whom he desires to
be united, and who resides inmostly [in the love]. 'The first
effect put forth by this supereminent or Divine love, which
254
extends to the universal society of souls and from its very

essence, pours forth felicity, must needs be that one loves a
comrade who is loved by the Deity, equally as himself. Thus
they can be united in no other way than by conjoint love to
ward Him who with His love cleanses both. Therefore, this
conjunction resulting from love descends solely from a com
mon love of a superior Being, which is the common, the uni
versal, and consequently, the particular bond of all. Spirit
ual love toward the comrade extends so far that it would not
hate the devil, but the evil within him; and if this were
curable, it would even love him, but now only pities him.
Therefore, the most universal spiritual love is love of a Being
above oneself. From this descends love toward the com
rade; for the individual loves of the comrades are gathered to
gether by the supreme love, and so are under Him. Taken
together, these individual loves of the several comrades con
stitute that universal love which is Divine.
437. There is likewise an opposite love, which also is spirit
ual and universal, being pure hatred of another and love of
oneself alone. This love is diabolical, and follows naturally
from hatred toward a superior or God. All that joins associ
ate minds together, this it now disjoins; for men [led by this
love] are eager to cast the superior Being down below them;
and in themselves they do so cast Him down, and conse
quently, cast down all who are His and are in Him, whom
yet they deem to be lower than themselves. Their love dis
plays itself as a quasi-god; considers itself as the universe, that
is, as omnipotent, or as being what God is in Himself; con
sequently, considers that all under God is subject to itself.
Therefore they do not love their comrades save as those
comrades consent to the same thing and are of the same
spirit. They love them, not from love, but from a parity of
will that they may attain their end. But since there is no.
such thing as a universal or superior hatred whereby the
minds of haters may be conjoined, there is also no regulated
society, but one member is armed against another; for they
hold their own essences in hatred, and love all that is vicious.
Thus their soul and life remains in the same hatred, and each
255
one rushes to the destruction of another, that is, tortures 'a.n

other, these results following as pure consequences. From the
above it is clearly apparent what is the nature of the inter
mediate loves; for between the pure loves of comrades and
the pure hatred there is an infinitude of differences.
LOVING SOCIETY AS BEING MANY SELVES.
438. The love of many, of society, the fatherland, the

human race, is not above loving oneself in the same ratio as
is love toward God, but is greater than self in an arithmetical
or geometrical ratio or proportion, and this is made by simple
addition or multiplication-arithmetically, if the love increases
according to the number {in a society], geometrically, if it
increases according to the number and according as the so
cieties are larger or smaller, that is to say, when the sums
mount up. The love is raised above self as a lower power is
raised to a higher, the relation being, for example, that of
a root to its square or cube. Thus oneself is relatively as
nothing, but yet becomeEs something in that one is among the
number of those who are loved and are able to love. There
fore, love of a comrade as of oneself supposes a multiplication
of the love in relation to a society of many comrades. It is
wholly from this cause that the love increases. The more
universal the love, the greater therefrom is the mutual sensa
tion of that love in oneself, and of the felicity resulting there
from, for in the same degree there is an increase of all de
lights. But this love, being spiritual, looks not to earthly
society but to the heavenly society of souls. It is a love be
longing, not to the mind, but to the soul, and so is pure love;
for within it, the truth that such is the case, is pure truth.
439. Love of the opposite, that is to say, pure hatred, in
creases against the many in the same ratio. Thus the in
crease is effected in an arithmetical or geometrical ratio or
analogy, while hatred against the Supreme Deity is increased
in a double and triple ratio, so that it is not necessary to de
scribe the matter in further detail. Such is diabolical hatred.
It is not even a love of its own society, but a love solely of
evil; and evil never intimately associates minds, there being
256
nothing above it to effect such consociation. Hence the one

member aspires to the eternal destruction of the other, each
of them counting the other as among those who are evil; and
since the truth known to them is convicting, the truth fur-
nishes the reason why the evil are not to be loved but are
deserving of punishment.
THE LOVE OF BEING CLOSE TO THE ONE LOVED.
440. The love ,to be close to God whom one loves, is a love
most eminently spiritual, for this lies in the very nature of
love. Hence, within this love, when it is true love, there is
no love of being eminent above one's comrades; that is, it is
not contrary to love toward a comrade. Either he has noth-
ing in common with him, or! he does not reflect on him, or,
if he reflects, then, that he may not seem preeminent, he
humbles himself, and puts himself in the lowest place, it
being God who lifts him up. Thus the love of being close to
the one loved is possible without the love of preeminence.
Therefore it pertains immediately to love of God, and not to
love of the comrade as of oneself; for the love of self then
entirely disappears, and in its place comes contempt, as it
were, of self, when one sees himself to be close to God and
yet infinitely distant from Him, and, as it were, nothing, see-
ing himself to be something only by His means, and this in
greater degree according as he is close to Him. When this
love is pure, that is, when it is joined with love toward the
neighbor, it is devoid of all envy, if another is closer to Him
and superior to oneself; for he then loves the superior the
more because he is closer to God whom he himself also loves.
If, however, he looks, not solely to love toward God, but to
his own felicity and eminence, that is, to the love of self, then
the love is not pure but· is mingled with envy. Envy always
presupposes something of the love of self and of preeminence
among equals, and ever proclaims that in the same degree
the man is far from love toward God.
1 Reading seu for sed.
257
441. That the love is utterly remote from God, who is Love
itself, is the effect of the devil's hatred conjoined with utter
envy if he observes the success of God's kingdom and society.
Thus he is stimulated by envy. Nor does he enjoy success.
Therefore this hatred is active in the highest degree. But
when he sees the success and can no longer offer resistance,
this hatred is turned into the last degree of envy and into
furious passions both against himself and against his com
rades. It is in such things that infernal torment seems to
consist.
THE LOVE OF SURPASSING IN FELICITY, POWER, AND WISDOM.
442. The love of surpassing in felicity, although a spirit

ual love, is never Divine, for so far as one loves his own
felicity above that of others, so far he loves himself more
than others, and thus, so far he removes himself from the first
two fundamental loves and becomes more unhappy. To love
God and the comrade for the sake of one's own felicity is to
love them for the sake of self; thus the love is not pure. But
to love God for the sake of God, because He is Love itself,
and to love the comrade for the sake of God, because this is
His love and because any other love is the love of self, is pure
love. On the other hand, to do this chiefly because of the
effect of the love, is contrary to order; for felicity flows of
itself as an effect from the above two loves, and pure love
does not look to the effect but to the love itself, abstractly
from its effect.
443. The love of surpassing others in power is like the love
of surpassing in felicity. The one involves the other, for we
are ever supposing that in power lies felicity. But this love
reveals the love of self-as the love of ruling always is-more
plainly than any other love. Thus, although spiritual, it is
still less divine.
444. So likewise the love of surpassing in wisdom. To
strive after wisdom is a virtue, but the love of surpassing by
means of wisdom is a vice. Wisdom, like felicity and power,
is a necessary consequent of the love of God above self. Thus,
to love felicity, power, and wisdom in the first place, is to
258
prefer them to God, that is, to love God below oneself or as ,

oneself. This is indeed, not diabolical, for the devil does not
love God for the sake of an end which is the necessary conse
quent of love, nor does he will thus to love and adore Him,
but absolutely hates Him. This love, therefore, seems to be
a love pertaining to human souls posterior to the fall of Adam;
thus it seems to be the love in our own souls, and it indicates
their perverted state. Yet we ought to recover the pristine
state; and by prayer and the grace of the Deity, we are still
able to strive in this direction by our own powers.
445. The love of surpassing, conjoined with hatred against
God and the comrade is a diabolical love; nor is it possible
without the love of self above others, that is, without spurious
ambition, avarice, cruelty, and all other vices or crimes.
Especially does it manifest itself in the love of power over
others. To wish for the possibility of being above others 2
is to wish to be above man and equal to God. The means are
loved as the end, to wit, honor, riches, possessions; and these
affections increase as they progress, nor do they ever stop; for
they aspire to the Infinite. In the uppermost step, they think
to reach something infinite, when yet, even though they possess
the universe, it is as far away as the finite from the infinite.
The man imagines to himself that the felicity to which he as
pires lies in power itself, and from this, will redound to him;
but because this felicity comes from a fount opposed to felic
ity, he is rendered ever more unhappy.
446. This love is contrary to wisdom because to God who
is Love and Wisdom. Therefore, it is a hatred of wisdom
and so also a hatred of that true intelligence which dictates
wisdom. Such is wont to be the nature of the love in those
who are in the desire of ruling. They love wisdom, not be
cause of wisdom, but that thereby they may the better rule
over human minds. This they esteem as wisdom; otherwise,
they would have desired the extinction of all wisdom, and
have preferred the return of the dark ages.
"Reading alios for 8Uum (one's own).
259
THE LOVE OF PROPAGATING HEAVENLY SOCIETY BY NATU

RAL MEANS.
{ 44i:- The love of propagating heavenly society, that is,

of multiplying the members of that society, is a spiritual love.
This love is greater than the love of self because it is on a
plane with love toward society. And since the soul knows
that the heavenly society can be propagated only by natural
means, to wit, by procreation, therefore, of herself she is
ardent in this desire. This is the reason why the love of
venery is so vehement an affection of the animus; for the
spiritual love then descends into nature where are the means
that promote it. But since this love, although become cor
poreal, may remain spiritual in the mind also, it is_a pure and
praiseworthy love when it looks to heaven as an end, and to
the increase of the society thereof. Within the love is also the
love of multiplying oneself, for it does not consider the off
spring as separated or disjoined from self, but itself with the
offspring as a multiplied self.
( 448. . On the other hand, the opposite love, being the love
ofdestroying the propagation of society, is not possible even
in the devil, for he loves his own society, hating the divine
society. Hence, he also eagerly desires members for his so
ciety to the end that he may prevail. It is for this reason,
I think, that God gave such great power to the devil, and
adjoined to him so great a society, that the love of propaga
tion may not cease, even in diabolical souls. The love of de
struction, that is to say, cruelty, is the sign of a hatred so
supreme that it rebels against the love of self, and so wishes
to be cruel even against self, and desires the universe itself
to be wiped out. Thus, in the human race a hatred is possible
which exceeds diabolical hatred.
THE LOVE OF ONE'S BODY.
449. The love of one's body is not to be confounded with

the love of self; for man loves his body, inasmuch as it is
linked with his soul for the purpose of that soul's propaga
tion and multiplication therein, the soul being continually
260
conceived and multiplied. From this love flows the love of

nourishing oneself, the sense of taste, the love of protect-
ing3 oneself from surrounding vapors, whence comes the sense
of smell; also sight, and even pain whenever violence and
injury is inflicted upon the body. Without this love the
afore-mentioned ends and loves could not be obtained. But
a man can love his own body and yet love his comrade as
himself; for when he loves his comrade as himself, he loves
his own body because of love of himself, and, at the same
time, because of love toward his comrade. He does not hate
his body, but for the sake of society is willing to lose it rather
than that society should perish, and infinitely willing for the
sake of God. Heavenly society is a singl~dy, t~~ul
whereof is God, and because he loves God, and this heavenly
body, he does not love himself and his body any more than
as a part of that society, and this to the end that he may be
a constitutive part.
450. Hatred of one's body is not possible save as that body
is not linked with its soul and is not obsequious when the
mind commands; for love is a link, but hatred disjunction.
So a workman does not love his instrument if it is not adapted
to his use. For the rest, when we love anything more than
ourselves, whether the love be genuine or spurious, such as
the love of glory, fame, revenge, riches, venery, we prefer
that love to the love of our corporeal life, but we do not hate
the latter. We love the body in that it is a means of obtain-
ing that which is loved, and is that by which the mind sensates
love. Thus when a man risks death because of a love, this
is not a hatred of life but a love, since thereby he desires to
live. On the other hand, when hope of a superior love is
gone, he falls into a hatred of living in the body, and there
is mental despair and insanity; for he thinks that living
without that love is not living, or is a life of misery, and so
loves the extinction of his own self. Such insane love, how-
ever, that is, such hatred of self, is never conjoined with gen-
uine and truly spiritual loves, such as the rove of the Deity,
• Reading tutandi for timendi (of fearing).
261
of the comrade, of propagating society. Therefore, it is as

much opposed to the essence of true love as it is to wisdom,
the two being in most intimate conjunction.
THE LoVE OF IMMORTALITY.
451. The love of immortality is a spiritual love and coin

cides with the love of God and of society; for spiritual life
is the being nearer to God, who is Life itself and by whom all
things live; and spiritual death is the being more remote from
Him. Such death, however, is not the extinction of one's es
sence but the extinction and privation of the love within
which is true life; just as blackness is not the extinction of
light but its suffocation, and it cannot exist without light.
It is apparent from this that the love of immortality is not
the love of living to eternity but of living well and happily;
for the soul knows that she will be immortal, consequently
loves [not this but] only that which possibly may not be.
Thus all love presupposes mutation and the possibility of
the opposite, otherwise it is not love. Hence, in all things
which cannot be other than what they are, love perishes.
There is, however, a love of immortality in respect to things
which may be mortal or immortal, such as deeds of love,
charity, honor, the virtues. All these are loved spiritually
to the end that they may be immortal in oneself; for the mind
or soul is the subject of such things, and they mayor may
not be within it. And because they are the means of meriting
the grace of the Supreme Love, the mind loves them as means,
thus as an end, not for its own sake that it may be eminent
among its comrades, but because of love of the Deity, and in
order that within itself may be that which it can communicate
with its comrades for the securing of a closer love and connec
tion. In this way it is better able to bind society to itself,
and itself to society.
452. There is also a hatred of immortality; but this hat
red is not absolute hatred so long as any hope of felicity is left
remaining; thus, not in the Devil until after the last judg
ment when all hope is taken away and the felicity of the
262
blessed strikes himll openly. Thus, love of immortality in-
mostly resulting from the love of self is possible in the vicious
and criminal. Love of the immortality of the vices exists
when those vices are esteemed as virtues, or when, within
them, vice is something savoring of virtue. Moreover, in
vices, all love of immortality is lost and takes with it a doubt
and finally denial as to all immortality. This is the effect
of impiety.
SPIRITUAL ZEAL.
453. Zeal is the activity and ardor within the loves above
recited, whereby men are aroused, not only to the loving, but
also to the promoting of means whereby the end may be ob-
tained. Thus there is spiritual zeal within every love; for in
itself love is not active save in the degree that it is passive.
Thus, in the absence of zeal, there is nothing in love which is
proper to the subject in whom the love is. Zeal itself is the
property of the spiritual soul, and springs forth, that is, is
born and aroused solely by opposition. Thus, without the
actual existence of what is opposed, that is, without the devil
or opposition, there can be no zeal; it would be non-existent.
Zeal, therefore, is aroused in the ratio of the resistance or re-
pugnance, and it is against what is opposed as against an
enemy. Therefore, the stronger the diabolical society, the
greater the zeal of the heavenly society. With the extinction
of the devil, it would wholly subside. Thus wrath is not pos-
sible in minds, nor anger in the animus, save from opposites
really existing. In itself zeal is love aroused to a superior de-
gree that it may be on an equality with the opposite ratio
which it wishes to extinguish.
454. There is also zeal in hatred, and, indeed, fierce and
murderous zeal. It is then wrath, and, indeed, the blazing of
an impure fire. The anger then proceeds, not from zeal, but
from hatred, and it is turned into fury. True zeal, on the
other hand, never degenerates into anger but is a mild and
gentle fire, bright inmostly but not outwardly. It is very
I Reading illum for iUoII (them).
263
evident, both in spiritual things and in natural, that zeal

or righteous grief is able to extinguish rages and tempestu
ous angers, that is, one good soul, thousands and myriads of
evil souls or devils. For the devil is not ignorant QLtrut
buthates it. But because he knows that it is truth which
\ he hates,therefore, from some inmost essence, he must needs
\ fear truth as being stronger than himself. Thus one good
~p.gel is enough for the casting out of a thousand devils, for
they flee at his first stroke like those who are tormented with
an evil conscience. Their fear is innate, while the others
have no fear but only the~eal which is within their strength.
THE LOVE OF PROPAGATING THE KINGDOM AND CITY OF GOD.
455. This love is a spiritual love, and flows immediately

from the love of God and of society. It is aroused and grows
with zeal in ratio to the opposition. The kingdom of God
is the heavenly society of souls, and the city of God the
earthly society which is the seminary of the heavenly. This
love of propagating the city of God or the Church, is the mind
and spirit of our religion, and all the means of propagating
that Eeligion are subject to it.
~6: On the other hand, the love of destroying the Church
is diabolical. Its kingdom is on this earth, and is opposed
to true religion. 'ThIs -IS a matter that would require very
extensive treatment.
XXVIII
The Derivation of Corporeal Loves from Spiritual,
and their Concentration in the Rational Mind.
457. From loves, to wit, spiritual and corporeal loves, when
compared together, it is plainly apparent that spiritual loves
are the founts of all corporeal loves ; consequently, that no cor
poreal love can exist without the preexistence of a spiritual
love; and that no spiritual love can exist unless-.!h~e be ac
tually a E~aven, th~t is, a soc~ety of blessecL:>..9uls, and a hell,
that is, a society of infernal souls. The one p~upposes the
264
DIVINE LOVE 457-460
other in such way that, if you deny the fount, you would also
deny the streams therefrom, and would be obliged wholly to
deny the existence of any affection, either of the body or
animus; for nothing can exist of itself, unless it flows from
some principle which contain7it~i~rs;rly.
458. Now, just as spiritual loves are t e founts of the loves
of the body or animus, so the several loves of the body can
be deduced as so many specific determinations of some spirit
ual love. For while there are infinite varieties of affections
of the animus, they can all be so subordinated and ordinated
that it can be seen from what fount they flow. But this sub
ordination cannot be resolved and described except in many
pages.
459. It may happen, however, that a spiritual love is good
in the soul but evil in the rational mind or the body. Man
is indeed good naturally, but by use and habit he is evil, so
that his mind is not like his soul, and still less is his body.
Therefore, judgment concerning the soul and its love belongs
to God alone. The loves, both of the soul and of the --animus,
._-.
-----
~_.
are concentrated in the rational mind. This mind is then car

-- -;-
ried along in accor~ance, not only with its own natural in
clinations, but also with principles acquired or understood.
It is likewise carried along by the authority of others. More
over, by the use and soothing nature of the pleasures of the
body, it is drawn to its side, and so another nature is induced
upon it. The most universal fount is love of the Deity above
oneself, and, after this, love of the comrade as oneself.
XXIX
Pure or Divine Love Regarded In Itself.·
460. God is the spiritual Esse in all things; and, in that
the spiritual is the very esse in things corporeal, God is the
Esse in the latter. Thus, in Him we live, we have our being,
we move. And, in that God is the very esse in everything
spiritual, He is Love itself, and this love must necessarily be
265
within that esse which is from itself and yet distinct from
itself. If God recedes essentially from a created spirit, there
is no spirit, for the fact of its being is the property, not of the
spirit, but of Him by whom that spirit was created that it
may be. So by analogy we may say that the body is not
the soul, but the soul is the esse of the body, so that, if the
soul withdraws, the body is no longer a body but falls asunder.
Thus, as when one thing is within another as a primitive in
its derivative, there must be an unbroken nexus with that
other as to existence and subsistenc~; and i~nexus, it is
love. Here love is wholly coincideI}t with nexus, it being love
that makes the image of oneself to be seen in another, but
only according to the degree of its derivation, thus more or
less imperfectly. Therefore, he in whom is the image of an
other, is said to be the love of that other, not that he loves
himself, but that he loves in another as in himself that which
he has wished to be, or that he loves to be conjoined with that
other; that is, the love is mutual.
l 4~1. From this it is clear that God is Lo~ itself, and that
we are so far divine as we in our turn love God, and thus by
love draw near to Him. And since God is Life itself, and
Wisdom, it follows that we are so far living and wise as we
draw near to God in love. Hence-love is an actual bond, is
life, is wisdom.- It is by love and the nexus, that all these are
within us more or less perfectly; and the further we are re
moved from love, the more imperfectly are they within us,
and, indeed, so imperfectly that they can hardly be said to be
within us. Therefore, the veries1....and mos~universal fount
of all loves is the Deity's love toward us, and our borrowed
love to the Deity above us. This love must be such as to
be unlimited, while our6 love relatively to that supereminent
love, is to be considered as the finite to the infinite. Such love
is not possible in our souls which are finite; but that it may
) be exalted even to an indefinite degr~e, this, bY-the m;~cy
of God's love toward us, is possible.
• Reading noater for nostri.
266
INFLUX OF ANIMUS INTO BODY 462-463
xxx
The Influx of the Animus and Its Affections into
the Body, and of the Body into the Animus'.
462. That our animus so flows into the form of our body
that it there stands out, as it were, is a fact well known to
everyone. From the countenance, judgment can be made as
to the nature of the animus in general, that is, of its inclina
tion, and sometimes as to the nature of some specific animus
or affection. Whenever affections exist, such as anger, re
venge, pride, envy, hatred, love, etc., they clearly present
themselves visible and present, not only in the countenance,
but also in the eyes, the speech, and the several gestures and
actions. We recognize them almost at the dictate of nature
alone; for it is not from any rules of art that we learn the
nature of the form superinduced on the substantial form of
the body. Thus the animus, which is the general form, the
affections whereof are so many essential determinations, is
inscribed upon us actually, and in the several affections is
itself the countenance; which latter is varied according to our
inclination, into one special affection or animus more than
into another; and when, by usage and habit, a new inclina
tion is acquired, in course of time this is also inscribed. More
over, the animus flows into the blood and animal spirit, and
into the several forms of the internal organs; for it makes
the bloods entirely conformable with itself. Thus anger ex
cites the bile and befouls its several humors; envy retains
them in the blood, whence comes a livid appearance j pride
expands the organs, erects the nerves and muscles, and clari
fies the blood, but yet surrounds it with such clouds that it
is easily darkened. So with the other affections, which flow
into the several organic substances of the body, and at the
same time into their humors.
463. Thus there can be no denying that, when formed, the
form of the body is an image of the animus, and that, in the
first formation, that is to say, in the womb, the animus is
the form of its soul; consequently, that as regards the expres
sion of its face and actions, the body is the image, type, and
267
pattern of the soul's mind, that is, of the spiritual mind by

mediation of the animus; for the mind first. forms its animus,
that is to say, the soul first forms its pure intellectory, the
common mind whereof is what is called the animus, and then
flows into the body, and this before the body is able to flow
into its animus.
464. As to the way in which this is effected, this also can
be demonstrated; but the demonstration demands an inti
mate knowledge of the organs of the internal senses, a knowl
edge of forms, both in general and in particular, and of the
influx of the spiritual mind into nature. For it is manifest
that the whole of nature is subject to the spiritual mind, like
an instrumental cause to its principal, or an instrument to
its user. Therefore, at the bid of the mind, she rushes in,
and this from necessity and thus spontaneously. Thus the
mind rules the body even when formed, and this that the body
and its muscles may carry out every habit, as though it had
no right of its own but only that of the ruling mind. Since,
therefore, all the simple fibers, and consequently the com
pound, spring from the intellectories and the internal sen
sories of the cerebrum; and since nothing in the body looks
to its form save only the fiber which forms it; it necessarily
follows that every affection of the cerebral intellectories and
sensories is diffused into the whole body by continued fibers;
there being a continuous connection of all the fibers from their
origins and principles.
465. The animus, therefore, is inscribed on the form of its
body; that is, it is related to the form of its body in the same
way as an internal form to its external; that the animus is an
internal form has been shown above [no 198]. Every internal
form has its own external form, that is, its figure, figure be
ing the limit or common terminus of essential determinations.
And if it be natural that an internal form correspond to an
external, then necessarily the countenance, being the external
form of the animus, must show what the animus has willed.
Thus there are as many countenances as there are internal
organs and parts. It follows, therefore, that the animus must
needs flow into its body. That it may dissembleand pretend,
268
INFLUX OF ANIMUS INTO BODY 465-466
comes from the rational mind which is able to command the

animus itself-of which later.
466. That the affections, mutations and diseases of the
body, on the other hand, are so wont to flow into the animus
that in course of time they alter and transmute the state of
its affections, this also is confirmed by experience; for a fever,
whether burning or otherwise, frequently arouses the animus
into unaccustomed emotions, into sicknesses and passions.
It often stirs a mild animus to anger, renders it morose [etc.].
That gout and paralysis produce a motion of the head,7 is so
well known from medical experience that prognostic and di-
agnostic signs may be formulated from the mutations of the
animus, these being phenomena and symptoms. The gall
bladder, when stirred up by some cause or by bile outside the
vessels resulting from an obstruction of the vessels, large and
small, arouses the ardor and fire of the animus, as likewise
do wounds of the head and cerebrum. Indeed, diseases are
often so cured by the furies of the animus that these furies
act as medicines. The worst of criminals is frequently
brought back to the path of virtue by means of the torments
of his body, etc. Moreover, changes in the animus frequently
arise from the several senses, such as sight and smell, the ani-
mus being brought into a state of gladness, into loves, etc.
The reason is quite evident from a kn~wle~ge.J2! the ~sse~ce
and origin of the animus. For the red blood, which must
ever be dissolved, passes into the fibers by the mediation of
the cortex; each cortical gland is an internal sensory; each
such sensory contains its own intellectories; and from these
intellectories taken together, that is to say, from their affec-
tions, arises the animus. Blood infected by some disease-
and the purer blood is similarly affected-when flowing
through these sensories, induces upon them a change of state,
such that the animus is unable to be affected according to
natural influx, the correspondence being varied in accordance
with this induced state. If therefore, the blood does not con-
7 Capitis, perhaps a slip for cere- (of the awmus).
bri (of the cerebrum), or animi
269
46H69 RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
spire with the animus, the resultant effect cannot be a natural

one such as it is when flowing from its own causes and prin
ciples, and thus the blood cannot be what it naturally is when
in accord with the animus; but with a changed blood, the
effect must be altogether different.
467. But the question arises as to whether, as a result of
such change arising from the body, the intellectory itself, that
is, the intellectories, is changed radically or fundamentally,
or only externally or superficially, so that the animus still re
mains the same, and returns after the crisis and the health of
the blood. This indeed is the lesson of experience; for after
diseases, the same animus is wont to return such as it was
before. Thus the change is merely superficial and does not
alter any internal form. Cases in which the animus is radi
cally changed by corporeal causes are exceedingly rare. N at
uram licet furca expellas, tamen usque recumt. 8
468. By diseases and such like cases, only the general or
external form of the animus can be changed, but not the in
ternal, it being merely the state of the sensories that is
changed. That is to say, in that the internal sensories are
unabfe to run through these states or those, but are compelled
to put on others, the animus cannot operate save in accord
ance with the states induced on the sensories. The animus
forms the states of the sensories for itself, hence the state aris
ing from the internal form of the animus still remains, and
when the change is passed, or after the diseases, it returns.
469. If the state of the animus or of the inteHectories is
to be changed, it is necessary that it be done through the ra
tional mind. Thus, by means of diseases, misfortunes, or
like cases, that mind may seize upon more healthy principles,
and so may expel those changes of state, and put on others
which are in harmony with purer loves. The human animus,
therefore, can never be changed save by the mediation of the
rational mind.
• You may drive nature out with back [Horace, Epis. I, 10, 24].
a. pitchfork, but she still comes
270
INFLUX OF MIND INTO ANIMUS 470-471
XXXI
The Influx of the Rational Mind into the Animus
and, by the Animus into the Body; and
the Influx of the Animus into the
Rational Mind.
470. That the animus flows into the rational mind, this,
from experience, is clearer than light; for our rational mind is
as though wholly possessed by the affections of the animus.
We desire what the animus desires, and we rush into its con
cupiscences as though blind or without understanding. The
reason becomes evident from what was said just above; for
while it is the internal intellectories which taken together
constitute the animus, yet to the internal form of these in
tellectories there must be a corresponding external form. This
external form is the cerebrum or common sensory. Therefore,
as the affection of the animus is, such also is the state of the
sensory; for the state of the sensory puts on that form which
is harmonious with the affections of the animus. So long as
this form remains, nothing can be insinuated as a grateful
thing, harmonious to the mind, save what is harmonious with
this state. A universal state includes and contains all spe
cific and individual states. When the universal state is
formed, all specific states flow into it as harmonics. The in
tellectories are what form a change of state harmonious with
the loves of the animus. In this way, the animus flows into
the'state of the mind. The common animus is the consensus
of all the intellectories in accordance with that influx, being
an influx from the senses and blood, which form and move the
common and external form to which the internal form cor
responds.
471. When, therefore, the rational mind, after consulta
tion with the intellect, remains in the state of the animus,
which is that of all the intellectories, it is blindly occupied
by the things which flow in; but when it dispels these and
spurns or restrains the affections of the animus, it can put on
more perfect states. These changes can be brought upon the
rational mind by diseases, and also by influx and by corre
271
spondence. By influx, in that diseases and various external

casualties so change the sensory that it can put on certain
states rather than others-the states, however, are states of
the intellect. By correspondence, because in misfortunes and
diseases, the mind observes that the several passions of the
animus, such as revenge, anger, envy, hatred, destroy the mind;
and it is thus imbued with piety and the virtues. Therefore,
on these occasions, the mind, from the liberty granted it and
by this reflection and correspondence, changes the animus and
puts on a state harmonious with more perfect loves. In this
way the animus or its internal form can be changed.
472.\ But to change the animus is to change one's very
nature, like the changing of a good animus into an evil, which
is easier, while the changing of an evil animu~ ~~to a goo_d is
more difficult. This can never be done save by the mediation
of the rational mind and its intellect, whether that intellect
be one's own, or be an inteIrect persuaded on the basis of faith
or authority. Nor can our nature be changed unless we loathe
and abhor evils and never let our mind fall back into that
state; and unless, from the liberty granted us, we snatch it
forth when it does fall, and put on that state which is har
monious with a more perfe~t lo;e;nor ~en then, ~nless we
remain in this state for a long time, bringing force and violence
to bear upon the other state; and unless, by abundant works
of virtue and the exercises thereof, we put on the opposite
state, and so continue until that state has become our nature
and has so expelled the other quasi-nature that whenever it
returns, we take note that it must be resisted. l!! thi~way,
and in no other, can we put off an evil nature and put on a
good-a thing which, in the absence of Divine grace and aid,
is extremely difficult in this life, but is of greater merit if we
apply ourselves, and, by prayers to God thrice blessed, obtain
that which does not seem to be integrity. In this way nature
bends nature and changes it, as it were, not indeed by influx
into the intellectories or substances of the animus, but by cor
respondence and reflection; for the intellectory knows truths,
that is, knows what is true and what false. If only it expels
hatred of truth, then, in its place, comes love of truth.
-- ~ -
272
INFLUX OF SOUL INTO ANIMUS 473-475
XXXII
The Influx of the Spiritual Mind or Soul into the
Animus, and of the Animus into the
Spiritual Mind.
473. At first, the animus is within the pure intellectory,
being within it as a pure natural mind. Being the mind of
the intellectory, which latter is formed entirely by the sub-
stance of its soul, this mind was necessarily so formed after
the image of the mind or spirit of its soul that, as the soul is,
such also is the animus in its formation while latent in the
womb and in its first infancy, the animus being then entirely
subject to the spiritual mind. Later, however, when the ra-
tional mind is formed, and the states of the intellectory begin
to depend on the state of the sensories, there comes an inver-
sion, as it were, and the animus depends on the influx of ob-
jects and harmonies from the world through the external
senses, and from the body through the bloods.
(174: From this it follows, that the spiritual mind so flows
( into the animus as to be its essence and life. The animus
\ callnot exist aI!d ~u£sis~ith01.!.t the spiritual mind. The;e-
) fore also it is, that the spiritual mind always loves its animus.
. But when the animus rebels and wishes to make itself su-
perior, it is rejected by the spiritual mind, and a perpet~al
combat arises, hardly otherwise than as between God and
the devil. Both are intent on occupying the rational mind;
but the victory belongs to the one; nor can the animus be
expelled all at once, but there is need of perseverance even
to the end of life.
475. When, therefore, ap. evlJ animus is c4.l!.nged in~a
gOQd, or a. good into a.!1_ evil, so that an acquired nature at-
tempts to expel nature, the first animus is changed, and then,
with the animus changed, the state of the soul is changed; not,
however, by influx, but by correspondence, with the mediation
of the !:.ational mind, and by the concurrence of Divine gr~e.
That the spiritual mind may be able to flow in with its loves,
a disposition thereto is requisite; at l~ast, a rejection of the
loves of the animus so as to enable the soul to be disposed
273
to flow)n with its spiritual loves, so that the mind may at

least be disposed for the influx of such loves. Here the in
tellect contributes nothing save from things revealed; but
I from God must arise faith, and then, when the Deity is im
. plored, His Spirit flows into_~he soul and Changes or perfects
its state. But there is need of long continued exercise if a
soul that is evil is to become good, though more brief if, with
)
the mind changed, a good soul is to be resoored. Thus there
is an election of souls; for without a miraculous and singular
favor, an evil soul cannot at the same time and at once be
rendered good. There is need, however, of bringing force to
bear on oneself, and of most ardent prayer and continual
cultivation of that which is truly spiritual and Divine. Such
appear to be the true principles for the perfecting of us spirit
ually; for the spiritual divine flows from above into that which
is ~~10w. That ~hic~thout cannot bring any change on
what is within except by correspondence, and in the soul there
is no such correspondence.
XXXIII
The Influx of the Spiritual Loves of the Soul into
the Rational Mind, and the Reverse.
(~76. The spiritual mind, that is, the sou~~ind, can never
flow into the rational mind save through the animus, that is,
by the mediation of the animus, and, consequently, only when
the animus is subject to thespiritual mind. In order, there
fore, that the spiritual mind may flow in, it is necessary that
the animus be so subjugated that it does not command but
obeys; for the soul cannot flow into the internal se;sory save
by the mediation of the intellectory. Hence it is apparent
how the spiritual can flow in; that is to say, it can do this ~
the affections of the animus are wholly submissive and are re
strained from occupyingthe mind; a-Iso as the mind- suffers
itself to be acted upon; and not even then, unless, from revela
tion, the mind's intellect knows what is to be chosen, that is,
what l~ Divine, wh-at is trulygood and just and true. More
274
INHERITED CHARACTERISTICS 476-478
over, because the mind does not understand this of itself, it

ought to pray God that He may inspire faith and love, for the
obtaining of which many spiritual means have been revealed.
Then, at last the spiritual mind c~n flow.. iI)j,o _the rational
min,d; for the spiritual mind is so deeply implanted, and re
sides so inmostly within, that it can by no means enter into
the rational mind immediately, save in the most universal
r way and through the animus. Hence it is evident how diffi
. cult it is to turn an evil soul into a good, and that this is the
) work of Divine grace alone, provided there be persistent human
. application.
XXXIV
[Inherited Characteristics]
INCLINATION.
477. Inclinations or human natures are infinite in number,
no one man having the same inclination as another. All these
inclinations, however, innumerable as they are, can be reduced
to three general inclinations, namely, the inclination to be
wise, that is, to honorableness and the virtues; the inclination
to acquire knowledge, which is something active and is a
natural inclination; and the inclination to understand, which
may be called an intellectual inclination.
478. The inclination to be wise, being a spiritual inclina
tion to what is honorable, that is, to the virtues, is derived
from the soul and is indicative of a good soul, that is, of a
spiritual mind, which is determined by true loves. And since
the whole body is formed after the image of the operations
of the soul, it follows that this inclination must be connate.
Moreover, the seeds of honorableness and the virtues are seen
to be connate, and are dominant in whole families and the pos
terity thereof. The virtues themselves are innumerable, one
man being inclined to some specific virtue, or to some mani
festation of a virtue, and another, to some other. The reason
for the inclination is to be learned from the truly spiritual
state of the soul; and, with an offspring, this state is connate
from the parents, from whom he draws his soul; but it comes
275
to the parent from frequent practice of the virtues and an

exercise of piety continuing to the end of life. That descend
ants suffer for the crimes of their parents, and are rewarded
because of their parents, is a fact so fully confirmed by all
the histories of the world that there can be no room for doubt.
479. The inclination to acquire knowledge, that is, to learn
the arts, is also connate; for, as shown by experience, we are
born poets, musicians, architects, sculptors, etc. This in
heritance, moreover, is derived from the father, and is per
fected by use. Hence the need of industry and of inquiring
into the nature of each individual in his childhood. When
one is perfected in those arts to which he inclines, he can rise
to the highest rung of the ladder, for the desire itself aspires
thither. This characteristic derives its origin from the intel
lectory and its animus; for the first intellectory is infused by
the father and insinuated into the ovum, and from this are
procreated similar intellectories. This intellectory is prone
to certain mutations of state more than to others. Hence the
sensories also derive their proclivities to certain mutations of
state, that is, to the forming and receiving of certain ideas
which at once gladden the animus, being correspondent to
its mind.
480. The inclination to understand. Some men are born
with a prodigious memory, and by this they can imitate in
tellect; some into a facility of expressing the sensations of
their animus; some into presence of mind; some to meditation
or fancy; some to profound judgment, even in respect to wis
dom, though themselves unwise; some to certain of the sci
ences, as, for instance, the mathematical, philosophical, his
torical, etc. This also is derived from the father and indeed,
from the same cause, in that the sensories are more prone to
the putting on of these mutations of state. The inmost cause,
however, is drawn from the intellectory, the mutability of its
animus, and the love and affection arising therefrom; for
what is derived into the offspring is of the same nature as it
was in the father.
481. With age, all the above inclinations can be changed,
and this both from external causes and more especially from
276
INHERITED CHARACTERISTICS 481-482
internal; for our intellect and the use of our rational mind
is in course of formation. Hence many affections and loves
can be insinuated and become habitual with men, and these
are handed down to their children by propagation. Yet, be
ing more remote from the rational mind, the inclination to be
wise, that is, the spiritual mind, remains for a long time and
does not suffer itself thus to be changed; for God ever breathes
upon it, and so provides the fates that it shaH not perish save
in the man's posterity.
TEMPERAMENTS.
482. Temperaments are four in number, to wit, the San

guine, the Choleric, the Melancholic and the Phlegmatic.
They are merely inclinations of the animus, or those differ
ences in the animus into which we are born.
The sanguine temperament has reference to an animus prone
to the reception of sensations and the production of ideas, and
similarly prone in the matter of affections; thus, to an animus
not tenacious of its own opinion, accommodating, lively. An
animus of this kind shines out in the countenance, the eyes,
the speech, the voice, the gestures and the several actions,
and is described by physiologists.9 The choleric temperament
indicates an animus not so prone to various pleasures and de
sires, but serious and sometimes indignant and morose if an
other does not favor one's opinion and one's love. Otherwise,
the man is a good man, and, for the most part, a lover of what
is honorable. His face and outward form is also described
by physiologists. The melancholic temperament indicates a
sad mind, immersed in fantasies, indulging more in internal
sensations than in external, more a stranger to pleasures, an
internal rather than an external man. As opposed to the san
guine temperament, the melancholic is tenacious of its opin
ion; believes hypotheses and opinions to be truths, and thinks
itself wiser than others; is vehement in the affections into
which it falls, and augments them with its own fantasies;
is a lover of solitude, or else of companions to whom it is ac
• See A Phil. N. B. p. 8.
277
customed; a hater of variety. The phlegmatic temperament

indicates an animus prone neither to anger nor to any other
affection, tacit, keeping its thoughts to itself; it is patient,
but inwardly heated; sluggish in action, and so forth.
483. These temperaments, however, being taken from the
state of the blood and the indications of the countenance, do
not suffice to express the mutations of the animus; for the
animus forms the countenance for itself as its own image, and
it likewise so disposes the liquids and the blood that they may
serve or favor itself. Thus, with one who, whether naturally
or from habit, has contracted this nature or that, the blood
is disposed in accordance with such nature. But since tem
peraments express merely the external form of the animus
from which men wish to deduce the internal, I know not
whether the inclinations of the animus can rightly be reduced
to these genera or species, and whether they exhaust the spe
cific variations. One thing is dear, namely, that they greatly
deceive diviners, and that they change in the course of age;
for temperaments belong to the blood, and blood is varied in
divers ways. He is said to be sanguine who enjoys a more
fluent and brighter blood; choleric, if his blood is sharper,
bilious, ramentous and spiculous; melancholic, if his blood is
somewhat hard and dry; and phlegmatic, if it be somewhat
sluggish and tenacious.
484. The animus, which is called sanguine is prone to the
reception and giving forth of affections and consequently, of
external and internal sensations, being in this respect ready
and headlong; while an animus which is languid in respect to
internal and external sensations and affections is phlegmatic.
An animus vehement in respect to passions and to internal
and external sensations is choleric; while an animus which
is sluggish in these respects is melancholic.
485. Thus we are able to make distinctions in respect to
the animus rather than to the blood, and to substitute animus
in place of temperament, it being the animus that is prone,
vehement, and languid in respect to passions and affections,
and hence also to internal and external sensations; for sensa
tions follow the animus and cannot be separated therefrom.
278
DEATH 485-487
As the animus is, such is the blood, and such the form of the
body and its forces. 1
xxxv
Death
486. What the body is, that is, the form of the body, has
been set forth above [Fibre, n. 318], to wit, that the body con
sists of forms inferior in their order and consequently, is a
form from the soul, which latter is a spiritual form. Thus
there is a purer body and a grosser. The form of the soul is
spiritual, that of the intellectory celestial, that of the internal
sensory vortical, that of the external sensory or cerebrum spiral,
and that of its appendix which is the body, properly so called,
circular. Its bones, cartilages and the like, are of the angular
form, as also are the many elements which enter into and con
stitute the blood, in each globule whereof are 2 latent all the
forms, from the first to the last.
487. These forms are so connected together, and the one
holds so closely to the other, though utterly distinct, that they
yet appear to be a single entity. Thus when the soul has be
taken herself into such forms, and out of herself and her own
substance has formed organs whose forms are at last cor
poreal and material, she is said to descend from her heaven
into the world. The reason for this descent was that, in the
functions of this ultimate world, she might be at hand to
operate in a manner conformable to its forces; for had she
not put on a corporeal form, she could never have been able
to walk upon the earth, to lift weights, to cultivate the planet,
to procreate offspring, and to form a terrestrial society, but
would be living in some sublunary region. The body, there
fore, is formed so as to carry out the functions which she in
tends. Thus man is formed in one way and quadrupeds, rep
tiles, winged and aquatic creatures in another, all in accord
ance with the offices in which they are to function.
1 Following this chapter comes "The Minds of Brute Animals."
the chapter heading, crossed oft": • Reading latent for latet.
279
488. The destroying of these ultimate forms is called dying.

The ultimate forms are destroyed first, and then in due order
the purer and superior forms up to the soul or spiritual form,
which latter cannot be destroyed. First the angular form is
destroyed, that is, the connections of the angular forms are
severed, and the angular bodies which are in the blood and
humors are dissipated; for which reason, only a very slight
portion of the blood is seen left in the dead. Then the circular
form is destroyed, being the form of the several viscera, and
also their external form which collapses; then the cerebrum or
spiral form, and then the other forms in their order.
489. Forms are said to die or be destroyed when that which
is proper to each form perishes or is dissolved. That which
is proper to a form is the situation and connection of its parts,
that is to say, their order, and thence their state. Other than
these, there is nothing that is proper to any form. When these
are dissolved, the form perishes or dies, and then every affec
tion adequate thereto passes away. Thus the soul can no
longer sensate those things which are suited to that form, be
ing the modifications and affections of the ultimate world and
its harmonies, that is to say, sensations and the like. Nor
can she perform the other bodily functions; for howsoever a
muscle is destroyed, each motor fiber can yet be left remain
ing; but that which is proper to the muscle, its situation, con
nection, that is, the order and state of its motor fibers, per
ishes. The motor fibers may be dissolved and die, but the
nervous fibers which composed them may still remain. When
the nervous fibers dissolve and perish, the simple fibers re
main, and so on. So also in the other viscera, nay, and in
the organs; for just as these were formed successively, so they
are dissolved successively; that is to say, as they were born,
so they are unborn. The lowest forms, because they are
mutable, inconstant, imperfect, and their determinations less
conspiratorial {with the soul], always die first, and so on in
order up to the first form. The triangular form can be dis
solved before the circular, the circular before the spiral; for,
when form ascends, something of perpetuity is always added,
or something of the finite and inconstant taken away. This
280
DEATH 489-493
is the reason why the dissolution of forms and consequently,

of the body, which consists of a form of this kind, is carried
on in this order.
490. From this it follows, that more time is required for the
dissolution of a higher form than of a lower, to wit, more time
for the dissolution of the circular form than of the angular.
Thus death progresses from the external man to the internal,
and the more interiorly it progresses, the more slowly.
491. Take the blood as an example. Because its globule
consists of all forms, even to the first spiritual, the red blood
is dissolved first, and its angular elements dissipated; this is
done somewhat quickly. Then the pure blood that remains is
dissolved, but after a longer period of time. What then re
mains is that which is properly called animal spirit, being
the individual part of the blood. Being of a celestial form,
this is not readily dissolved. After this remains the soul
purified from all that is earthly.
492. Thus by death, that is given to the earth which was
taken from the earth, being that which is in the blood and
its humors; then that to the air, and also to the ether which
was taken from each. That which remains is pure animal and
the property thereof, that is to say, the soul. This alone is
what lives, and it lives in the body in accordance with its own
organic form. Consequently, all that life dies which is ade
quate to that organism, that is, the external, ultimate, low
est, and more imperfect life of the soul. Thus dissolution
is predicated of the organism, and death of the life of that
organism.
493. The question therefore arises, What are the lives that
die, or what the organic connections that are dissolved? for
the degrees of life are as many as are the degrees of organs.
The life of the tongue is different from that of hearing; the
life of the ear, from that of the eye, and the life of the eye
from that of the internal sensory which is called perception;
the life of the sensory, from that of the intellectory, and the
life of the intellectory from that of the soul which is spiritual
and is the all of life in the others, living in them according
to their form and by means of forms. The forms them
281
selves are called organic, and are the substances, the affec
tions whereof are sensations.
494. And now to the finding out of what forms are dis
solved, or what lives die. It is notorious that the common
life of the body dies, or that the general nexus of all its parts
is dissolved; likewise the external sensory organs, that is,
touch, taste, smell, hearing, sight, and the organs thereof; as
also the internal sensory, with the intellect and the rational
mind, that is, the cortical glands together with their muta
tions of state; for there is no such intellect in the embryo;
and scarcely any in the infant, for it increases with age,
comes to fullness in adults, again decreases in old age, and
is enfeebled and perishes in disease. Thus the intellect also
dies, together with the body; for it was acquired to the end
that by its means the soul might take note of what goes on
without, and this through the senses; and also that by its
means she might be able to execute those functions which are
to be carried on in the ultimate world. When the soul no
longer lives in this ultimate world, nor any longer wishes to
perceive what is going on in the lowest regions, or what func
tion is to be carried on in the earth and in earthly society,
then, with the necessity and use perishes also the ability and the
organ predestined for that use. Oh how miserable we would
be if after death we were to live with our rational mind,
our imperfect intellect, and our inconstant will governed by
so many inconstancies and desires; and were we to live partly
spiritual and partly animal! Surely, in a future life, such
a mind could suffer mutations and throughout its interval
could die, equally as in this life, for it does not change its
nature. Therefore our rational mind dies together with its
desires and affections; and also our intellect with its princi
ples, opinions, and plans; and does not remain alive after
its body.
495. As regards the pure intellectory to which belongs the
pure natural mind, this indeed seems also to die or be dissolved,
but only after delaying for a long time; for it is a celestial
form, and there are no forms at hand which can destroy it;
but as to the length of the delay, this it is not for us to de
282
DEATH 495-497
termine. Thus this mind or animus survives long after death,

but is not able to operate, in that its common or external form
is dissolved, and it cannot as yet acquire for itself a new form.
But let us dismiss these matters as among things wholly un
known; to wit, whether the human animus is to survive the
life of its body until the Last Judgment, when single things
are to be resolved into their principles by a most pure ele
mentary fire. But into these arcana, let us not penetrate.
~96.' But the question arises, Why must the body be dis
solved, or the corporeal life extinguished? As to why this
comes from Divine Providence, this is very clear if we regard
the end of creation, to wit, t~at~versa~ty of souls
, II!.ay exist which shall constitute heaven, and which could
\ never be obtained without a seminary on earth, and without
1 the death and thus the perpetual succession of those dw~Jling
there; also that souls may be formed in their bodies and re
) for~ed for an eternal state. -What is terrestrial and co~
I poreal can never be perpetual because in itself it is mutable,
\ inconstant, imperfect, and always decreasing. Thus death
is inseparable from corporeal life,3 especially when that life
is subject to the will of the rational mind, a will which ever
takes corporeal life away, and precipitates it into diseases and
successively into death.
\--497: Add to this, that without death the soul could never
be left to her right and decision of living according to her own
nature; for she is closely connected with the body, bei.!1g the
very form ofh.er body, and is so fettered that she cannot act
in any other way than according to the ability of the forms
which she has acquired. Thus she is utterly limited, and
nothing is left her but to will and desire other things. I~
order, therefore, that the soul may be left to E~Jf, it isnec
essary that her ultimate form be dissol~~d. Moreover, the
soul herself often desires to be dissolved, especially when the
'At this point, Swedenborg com tinguished, we ourselves are wholly
menced a new paragraph as fol extinguished." He then crossed
lows: "But it a,ppears as though this off and finished the preceding
we enjoy no other life than the paragraph as in the translation.
corporeal, and that with this ex
283
loves of the animus have driven out her own purer loves and
she lives as though subjected to the body. She then aspires
to the dissolution of her body, and this by contingencies which
often befall us unawares and are the causes of diseases and
---
death; but of this elsewhere.
But the subject of death must be treated of clearly and in
it·~ different aspects in order that these points may be presented
in better coherence.
XXXVI
The Immortality of the Soul
498. What the soul is has been defined and described
above, to wit, that it is immaterial, devoid of extension, mo
tion, and part; and consequently, contains in itself nothing
that will perish. But these are rather verbal predications
than definitions, in that such terms are not sui~.~!~__~u
perior forms. Yet these forms possess something analogous
thereto; for in the absence of an idea of something analogous,
there can be no escape from the idea of nothing. Let us
therefore, rather betake ourselves to the real form of the soul.
It was said above [no 431], that the form of the soul is a spirit
ual form; that in the spiritual form those things are infinite
which in inferior forms are finite; and that, in accordance
with this description, every idea of place, that is, of center and
surface, of upward and downward, hence of motion and ex
tension, passes away, that is, is abolished. From this idea
of form, it is clear that in such form there is nothing which
can perish. For a form to perish or be destroyed, it is neces
sary that the situation and connection of its parts be so
changed that they perish. In a form where there is no idea
of place, center, surface, that is to say, in which the center
is everywhere, the circumference everywhere, the surface
everywhere, destruction cannot be conceived of. The form
itself is opposed to its own destruction and favors its per
petuity; nay, the more it should be assailed, the more would
it resist every effort of destruction.
284
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 499-501
499. If we reflect on forms in their order, it is apparent

that when a form becomes superior, that is, rises to some su
perior form, it always adds something perpetual. Thus, when
it rises from the angular form to the circular, it becomes a
perpetual circle, and all its lines and planes conspire to some
perpetuity. But since this form [is changed], both by ex
pansion which is effected from center to circumference and
also by the impetus of other forms brought to bear on its sur
face, an impetus which it nevertheless resists, it either returns
to itself or passes off into some other state. In order, there
fore, that the circular form may not perish by expansion [or
impetus], this perpetual is [added] in the spiral form, the
spirals tenninating in a circular surface and returning to
the same. Thus, by expansion, as also by this return and the
looking to the preservation of the surface in that figure, its
permanence is more secure. But since it looks to a center,
it can still be destroyed. In forms still superior, however,
as in vortical and celestial forms, the possibility of perishing
is done away with. Thus, in the spiritual form there is such
perpetuity that itself is the guardian of its form; for one de
termination so regards another that the one renders the other
utterly immune to every injury. This flows from the form
itself and its connate perfection. 4
500. Add to this, that the spiritual form, by inspiration,
draws its essence immediately from God, as an offspring from
its father; therefore, it acknowledges the Deity or God as its
father immediately on creation. That which is and exists
from the eternal and immortal itself can never be destroyed,
that is, be mortal. This is the reason why the soul is im
morta1 5 not per se but by God who alone is immortal per se;
thus she is made immortal by Him.
501. Since, then, the soul is the inmost and supreme of an
forms; and since the first natural form is below it, and in
• [Crossed off:] This spiritual immediately from God; through a
fonn is inspired and thus created change of its state it is so per
immediately by the Deity Him verted.
self, so that it draws its essence • Reading immortalis for mortalis.
285
ferior forms even to the angular are as distant from it as

earth from heaven; therefore, the soul can never be reached,
still less destroyed, by forms which are in nature. Tell me,
How can that which is inmost be destroyed by things which
are without? or that which is supreme by things which are
below? or that which is simple by things which are compound?
what is prior by the posterior? thus what in itself is most perfect
by things in themselves imperfect? for the imperfect derives its
ability to exist from the perfect things which are within it.
That within which is the infinite cannot be touched, still less
destroyed, by the finite. That which in itself is supremely
constant cannot be destroyed by what is inconstant. Superior
forms, especially the spiritual, can undergo changes of their
state to infinity, it being in this that their perfection consists.
If some impetus should be supposed, some collision or the like,
such as occurs in inferior forms, its state can be changed in
whatsoever way it wills, and yet return to its natural state.
It is comparatively like natural substances which are highly
elastic; these can be bent and unbent, expanded and com
pressed, and yet return to their own form. Thus they act to
the same extent as they suffer action. Hence, by no force or
impetus can they be disturbed from their natural state.
502. From this it now follows that nothing terrestrial,
whether it be floating in the air, the ether, or fire, can ever
touch the soul; nor can anything atmospheric, nor the purest
fire of nature. All these stand far below the soul and cannot
reach it; nor, were they to reach it, can they bring the least
force to bear upon it, for it is safe in its own form. This,
moreover, is seen in the body itself where is so great a multi
tude of highly volatile parts drawn from the earth, the aerial
atmosphere, and the ether; yet these parts do not disturb even
the minutest connection or position of any bodiIy organ, or
bring harm to its order. Were the very smallest of angular
forms to touch the myriads of substances like those of the
soul, it would be as though I were to say that a great beam
could split an ether particle, when yet a volume of myriads
of such particles touches it so obtusely and at the same time
passes through its pores; or, as though you were to say that
286
posts and trees could extinguish the attractive and directive
force of the magnet, when yet this force flows through metals
and all other bodies. Thus it would be the injuring or ob-
structing of the operation of the soul or spirit by things which
are the minutest angular forms of nature or of fire; for the
magnetic force passes through even fire and flame, and yet
this is done by vortical forms. What would not the soul do
which is a form above the celestiall
503. Add to this, that it is contrary to nature herself that
that can be destroyed which is devoid of gravity and levity-
that is, which cannot offer resistance by any gravity, but
acts only as it is acted on-or where action and passion ex-
actly correspond. What agent can there be that can effect
its destruction? There can be none without or below it, for
this does not reach it. That which shall destroy it, must be
able to equal its determinations, and reach them. That which
is above it, does not destroy it, for this is Divine; this con-
serves, not destroys, and conserves the more actively in that
human souls are the ends of creation and constitute the king-
dom of God. Nor does that destroy it which is within. This
conserves it, just as was said above [no 498] in respect to
form-that this form is its own guardian.
504. Spiritual death, however, is the destruction, not of
essence and life, but of the better life, in that the soul is re-
moved from love of God, from wisdom, felicity, perfection,
and has ceased to be an image of God. In heaven this is
spiritual death; for life consists in loves of what is truly spirit-
ual, and when these are so extinguished that in their place
succeed opposing loves, that is, hatreds, then that which truly
lived is said to be dead; for truly to live is to love God and be
wise. In such case, the form itself and the essence remains,
for these cannot perish. There is merely a perversion of its
state, the state of the form being so changed that it is no
longer harmoniously congruous with Divine loves. Thus is
lost that image of God which requires a state conformable to
the loves thereof.
505. But the question arises, Why does life itself appear to
die and be destroyed with our body? or why is it that life
287
appears to belong to the body rather than to the soul? as in

cases of swoons, ecstasies, sleep, drownings, resuscitation after
burial, embryos, etc., where, after their resuscitation into
bodily life, the subjects are deeply ignorant of the fact that
they were living meanwhile; for no sign remains impressed
on their memory as to what they have thought, or even that
they have thought. From these and similar examples, it ap
pears as though life were merely corporeal, and that the soul
had no life.
506. But in these cases, as in innumerable others, we are
deluded by appearances; for the life of the soul is not such
as is that of our sensation or that of our perception or even
that of our thought, but is superior and more perfect. It is
the life of the soul that flows into the thought and perfects
it in order that the mind may be able to think; but thought
itself is learned by use, and belongs to the rational mind
which perishes with the body. It is only from reflection that
the nature of the life and pure intelligence of the soul is seen,
and how it flows into the thought; that is to say, that when
the soul operates in the body and its sensations and thoughts,
it runs naturally through all the arcana of each science. Such
science is not acquired but is connate and flows in from the
life of the soul. Does not the eye, for instance, run through
the arcana of the science of optics? the ear, through the arcana
of the science of acoustics, so that of itself and its own nature
it knows how to form sounds; and does it not put together
things which are harmonic? When a man thinks, judges,
speaks, does he not run through the whole of first philosophy,
logic, dialectics, grammar, etc? nay, a little child runs through
the veriest arcana of the sciences. Thus we learn all this sci
ence from ourselves. When the soul acts, when it puts forth
the very least action and moves a muscle, it runs through
the whole of chemistry, mechanics, mathematics, and physics.
From this it is seen what in itself the life of the soul is, that
it is such as it is from itself; and that its knowledge is not
acquired like that of the rational mind whence comes im
agination and thought. It is from this source, then, that the
inmost life or essence of thought draws it origin. Therefore,
288
thought may recede and yet the life of the soul, that is, a su
preme and spiritual intelligence remain.
507. Such being the life of the soul, it cannot impress any
sign on our rational mind; for it is an intelligence, more uni
versal, pure, simple, and superior than can be expressed in
words or material ideas, or than can be thought of in the way
in which we think. Consequently, it cannot impress any sign
on the sensory, nor, in the absence of ideas of the memory,
can it induce any mutation therein. Since, therefore, this life
informs ideas in this way, and does not speak words, but in
wardly understands those which the mind speaks or thinks,
it follows that it can never impress anything of its memory
on that mind which understands things in the grossest way.
508. That this life is nevertheless our life and the life of
our body, and that we are to return into it after the dissolu
tion of the body-this is clear from the fact that it is the soul
which sensates, that is, which hears, sees, perceives, thinks,
judges, wills, but in accordance with an organic form and no
otherwise. Moreover, it is a living appearance that the soul
does not seem to have any separate life, save successively as
the external forms are destroyed; that is to say, the sight ap
pears as though it were in the eye; yet we see with a sight
when the eye is closed, and the more the eye is closed, the
more the internal sight and imagination is perfected; and in
deed, so perfected that the external sight is rather an ob
struction to the internal. So likewise with imagination and
thought; these seem so to cohere that in the absence of im
agination, thought seems to perish. But if we are to think
more profoundly and go into matters more deeply, it is nec
essary that we remove the material ideas of the imagination,
that is, abstract our mind from things material, it being in
this way and no other that we are able to think purely; this
is done by such abstraction. Then the thought returns and
is separated, as it were, from its external form. Moreover,
such thought impresses scarcely a sign of itself on our internal
sensory; nor is it fixed therein save in the sense that it is at
tached to some material idea or effigy. When every such ma
terial idea recedes, then comes the life of the soul, which
289
leaves no impress of itself on the sensory. So neither does it

put itself forth, such as it is, in the embryo or infant, when
yet in the tiniest embryo it is possessed of as great intelligence
as in the adult and the man of consummate judgment; but it
is unable to put itself forth until the rational mind is furnished
with ideas of the memory whereby it is winged for self
expression.
509. Such is the life of the soul; unmingled with any ig
norance, with any imperfection; possessing in itself every sci
ence, so that itself is science, truth, order, intelligence. Such
life can by no means perish. The life to which is subjected
nature which is destroyed, thus the life of that form, seems
to die. It is the life of the soul that is the veriest life of
ourselves; and it does not return to itself, so that we are con
scious of it, until the life of the forms below it and with which
it is connected has receded. These, moreover, the soul herself
destroys in order that she may free herself from their bonds,
and be restored to her own right and freedom of action; for
the soul knows of herself how to form her body, one viscus
after another; to rescue herself from the womb; to suck the
breast, etc.; and, as the caterpillar knows how to transform
itself into a butterfly and to destroy its pristine form, so also
does the soul know how to destroy her forms, to restore her
self to liberty, and so, from this fading, imperfect and in
constant life, to pass over to life immortal. This cannot be
done without the death of the corporeal life.
510. From these operations of the soul, it is clear what
her form is. The soul is substance itself, wherein is form;
her intelligence is the eminent faculty and quality of her
forces and modifications. Thus, from her form and also from
her intelligence, it can be deduced and clearly seen that the
soul is immortal.
:XXXVII
The State of the Soul after the Death of the Body.
511. (1) Everyone is solicitous to know what the state of
the soul will be after the death of the body. There is no one
290
STATE OF SOUL AFTER DEATH 511-512
who does not conjecture that it will be like the state of our
corporeal life, or like our state when living in the rational
mind. Who can suspect that there is a superior, more per
fect, more universal and more abstract life, if in his mind
he has not penetrated into the degrees of life? They are few
who deny that life, which they declare to be the life of the
soul and animus,6 survives. 'Wise gentiles, as can be seen
from Greek authors, the Sophi, Plato, Aristotle, and from
Cicero, and all the others, were so unanimously of this belief
that they put it beyond all possibility of doubt. Moreover,
Pythagoras and Socrates7 have endeavored to describe the
state of the soul after death. We Christians, being stiU bet
ter instructed from the sacred books, not only believe the
soul's life to be immortal, but also that there is a state of fe
licity or heaven, and a state of infelicity or hen. But let us
follow psychological principles laid down in their order,' and
consider what these principles dictate.
512. (2) It is the general opinion that after the death of
the body, the soul is at once separated and, flying away, aban
dons its carcase. But when we consider that the universal
form of the body is from substance alone, being the soul, that
is, is from the soul; there being nothing which is not from
the simple fiber, and the simple fib er being from the simple
cortex, and so on; and consider that the soul, being a real
essence and substance from which comes the universal or
ganic form of the body, is the all in every part thereof; and
also that it resides inmostly therein and in the centers, as it
were, of all parts thereof, and in the blood itself, whose prin
cipal essence is the soul which is within it; it follows that the
whole soul does not fly from the body at the moment the life
of the body is extinct, but that it remains for some time until
the several parts wherein it is, are dissolved. This is con
firmed by the many cases mentioned in historical accounts
of men who some days after their funeral rites have risen
again and have passed their life among the inhabitants of
• It may be noted that many ently as meaning the soul.
contemporary writers used the 7 See A Phil. N. B., p. 262 seq.
words anima and animus indifIer
291
earth for years; also by cases of men who have revived some
days after being shipwrecked or suffocated by angina. s In
these cases, the soul could not meanwhile have been exiled
from its body and then, as soon as the obstructions were re
moved or the water discharged, have returned to its abode.
Moreover, those who are afflicted with swoons, syncope, etc.,
are like dead men, and yet the soul does not flyaway but re
mains and is living even though the body is extinct, as it were.
There are also many examples, even in the sacred books,
showing that it was a crime to violate the corpses and bones
of their dead, and that these should rest in peace and not be
scattered. Moreover, Samuel was resuscitated, and there are
many other examples in both sacred books, and profane. To
say the least, it is, as it were, inborn in us, as though the soul
itself dictated it, that if the bones of the dead are violated,
their shades will confront the violator; and of such cases also
there is much mention. Furthermore, with some men it was
a matter of religion to kiss and venerate the bones of heroes
and saints, and to implore them to bring or obtain help. All
such cases would be utter vanity, if the soul wholly left the
body, and if all that remained was the bare terrestrial. Mean
while, from the tenor of our arguments it follows, that the soul
which procreates the organic form of the body and its parts,
and also the blood and animal spirit, can by no means be re
leased from its connections until posterior and more mutable
forms have first been dissolved, though it is not to be denied
but that much of the soul may be released from these con
nections. Yet it is not therefore separated. It is contrary
to the very nature of spirits that substances which were born
and made for the completion of a single system should be sepa
rated; but as to that which is connected with other parts, this
is separable until it is finally released from those bonds; and
it does not seem able to be fully released from all bonds save
at the coming up of a most pure elementary fire, that is, after
the conflagration of the world.
8 This term was used contem whereby deglutition or respiration
poraneously to mean any disease was affected.
292
513. (3) But the question arises, What kind of life is
that which the soul lives while still delaying in a body that
is extinguished and, in respect to the situation, nexus, and
order of its organic parts, is wholly destroyed? Its life must
then needs be a most obscure life, that is, must be merely
life void of intelligence. This becomes clear from the mere
definition of intelligence. All intelligence supposes not only
an internal form and mutation of state in the several sen
sories or intellectories, but also an external form of each
sensory, that is, that they preserve a mutual situation and
order with respect to each other. With the destruction of
the order among the several sensories, and the destruction of
their connection and situation, the communication of forces,
modifications or affections is at once lost; and then succeeds
an irregularity resulting in a life, not distinct and determined
in accordance with its form, but confused and obscure, so that
it can be named bare life without any intellection. To under
stand is to live distinctly and in accordance not only with the
form of the several sensories, but with the whole sensory in
general consensus. This is the reason why our intellect is
at once disturbed when the situation and nexus of the sensory,
that is, of the cortical glands, is disturbed, as we learn from
accounts of diseases of the head. Sight is lost by reason of
an utter disturbance of its parts, whether fibrous or liquid;
dullness of sight then follows. Here the like occurs as occurs
in the nature of colors. When all the colors, commingled in
equal proportion, or when an infinite number of prisms and
tiny glass bodies of irregular shape are mixed together, there
is no distinct color or beautiful order, but only white, which
is the conflux of all the colors.
514. (4) When, however, the organism is not yet destroyed
or not disturbed from its order, the life of the soul remains
distinct as in the embryo; but the soul cannot communicate
its universal mind and intelligence to its rational mind, and
this for the reasons adduced above [no 513]. Hence, after its
resuscitation, it cannot leave any memory of itself.
515. (5) When released from its corporeal bonds, however,
the substance of the soul seems to live a distinct life, and the
293
more distinct according as more of the soul is released from

these fetters; for, being left to their own liberty,. individuals
then form among themselves a society, and institute a most
distinct order. They also await companions; for the greater
the society, the more perfect the life; and the longer one has
lived, the larger the acquired society, which forms one unani
mous body.
516. (6) Inasmuch as the soul is most highly distinguished
into substances of a spiritual form, it may be thought that
after its release its individual substances or forms might be
dissipated and not again coalesce into a society consisting of
a single body. Such an opinion, however, arises from ignor
ance of the world and of purer nature and purer beings; for
we think that something of that sort remains when a corpuscle
is dissolved into smoke, vapor, cinder, and ash; but a very
different reasoning holds good. In that supreme, most pure
and perfect world, a world where nature is simple and prime,
a disjunction of entities pertaining to a single being by virtue
of their mutual harmony and similitude, cannot be conceived
of. Each living and spiritual substance of the soul recognizes
its companion substance in the body as its own, and it can
not live in mutual consort with any other. Nor is there any
thing to prevent their being conjoined, there being no space,
place, and time to disjoin them. Space, place, time, degrees,
moments, all belong to inferior nature, not to supreme. There,
place is place only relatively to inferior entities, among which
is an upward and downward, a rightward and leftward, a
center, surface, diameter; or, that there may be a where,
every relation of place is from soul to soul, these being dis
tinct. Nor can they be separated, for one substance of
the soul recognizes, feels, savors the other, even if it were
relatively distant therefrom, as the sun from the earth, or
star from star; for when the sight of so gross an organ as the
eye reaches from the earth to the stars and sun, what cannot
the sight of the intelligence of the soul do? This can be
called spiritual sympathy when there is nothing to prevent
their being again conjoined. Therefore, it is merely ignorance
of the purer world that deceives us and lays down a dissi
294
pation which in that world is impossible, and especially im

possible seeing that the omnipresence of the Divine Spirit
acting upon all souls cannot permit that anything pertain
ing to a unit be separated therefrom. For there is a Spirit
which unites all things below itself, and this conjoins con
cordant things and disjoins discordant, and so gathers all
souls together. This is necessarily the case, for, considering
the influx of this universal Spirit, it must needs conjoin all
the things that pertain to a single body, and vice versa.
517. (7) When similar phenomena occur in the world and
in inferior and more imperfect nature, what then must they
be in superior and most perfect nature where there is nothing
irregular but all is supremely harmonious, concordant, and
united! It is well known that when burned to dust, bushes,
plants, flowers, roses are reborn in water, if only their vege
tative quasi-lives, or spiritual quasi-essences be aroused by
some art. The very figure is raised up and when, with the
shaking of the vessel, it falls back into its ashes, it again re
vives, and this several times. These parts cannot be so dis
joined and separated but that after their fates they come back
into their pristine form and renew their old friendship and
habit, and this in such wise that they wholly coalesce into ex
actly their pristine form; what then human souls after the
fates of the body?
518. (8) I say nothing of those manifest sympathies rec
ognized even in this lower world, which are so many that
they cannot be enumerated. Sympathy is so great and, as
it were, magnetic, that there is frequently a communication of
many persons at a distance of a thousand miles. Such sympa
thies, however, are deemed by some as among idle tales; and
yet experience confirms the truth. Nor would I wish to men
tion the fact, that the shades of some men have become visi
ble after the fates of the body and the last rites; and they
could never have been made manifest (granted but not ad
mitted) unless the animal spirits had been mutually conjoined
and not separated from their mutual fellowship. At least,
such is the connection and love between them in the body
itself that they observe a mutual mode of life and make no
295
distinction as between themselves. This, moreover, is the

reason of their mutual love, that is, of the love of the body.
519. (9) That every substance of the soul associates itself
with another is apparent from the love of parents toward
their offspring, whose soul the parent, knowing that it has
been drawn from his own soul, so inwardly pines for and loves
that he wishes again to join it and enter into it, and en
deavors vainly to do so by kisses and embraces. What then,
of the entire soul of a single body?
520. (10) Meanwhile, the fact must be admitted, that the
soul of one man would never be distinct from that of another
if the state of the one soul were absolutely like the state of
another. But since it is provided that there be a perpetual
difference between souls, therefore they can never be joined
together, but each individual soul is to form its own body
and to live its own life. Thus each soul knows its own fel
low substance, and aU that pertains to itself and its own
system; and so, drawn by a certain sympathetic love, it can
not unite itself with any other substance, for, not being its
own, it cannot unite with it into a single body. Therefore, a
universal Divine Providence is regnant in distinguishing in
dividual souls from each other, and this, to the end that the
soul of one shall not be absolutely like the soul of another.
521. (11) But the question arises, What is to be the form
of the soul in heaven? Will it be like the corporeal form, or
will it be some other form called angelic? and so, Is the
angelic form like the human form? This, indeed, I do not
think will be the case, namely, that we are to put on the
human form, such form being solely for the sake of use in
the ultimate world. In heaven, they are like winged souls;
nor do they form a society on any earth. Being spirits, they
have no need of feet or arms and consequently, neither of
muscles, that is, of flesh and bones. Nay, they have no need
of red blood, and thus no need of a stomach, intestines or
mesentery, these being for the reception of foods, chylifica
tion, nutrition, sanguinification, and similar uses; nor of a
heart, in that there is no red blood. Nor is there liver, pan
creas, spleen, nay, nor teeth, fauces, throat, trachea, lungs,
296
tongue. There is no using of air, of respiration, of speech,
of eating. Nor is there any ear or eye, for where there is
no air, there is no sound, and where there is no earth, no sight,
nor can it perform any use. Even the members of the brain,
with the meninges, the medullas oblongata and spinalis, will
not serve any use; with the use perishes necessarily the need
of them. Of what use would be the genital members? When
we shall be spirits and angelic forms, all the above organs
will serve no use. Hence it does not seem that the soul will
take on that form which is imperfect and not heavenly-un
less, as is the opinion of some, a new earth should be created,
with a new atmosphere, and we should be sent into this new
earth as new inhabitants.
522. (12) But the question is asked, What form shall we
put on? This we can no more know than the silkworm, when
as a lowly worm it crawls over its leaves, and after its labors
are discharged, is turned into an aurelia and flies off as a
butterfly. It does not know that it will put on an entirely
different body in keeping with the atmosphere in which it is
to live. It does not know that it will take on wings and will
be furnished with members adequate to that life. So also
with us. We are profoundly ignorant as to the nature of
that purest aura which is called heavenly and in which souls
are to live-souls which will certainly be furnished with such
a form that, like birds in our atmosphere, they can every
where traverse their spaces and fly through universes and
heavens, and be furnished with members and a form of a
kind which is wholly adaptable to that life. Therefore, until
we know the nature of that aura and what the life we are
to live therein, we can never say what form we shall put on.
This only we may be allowed to say, namely, that our form
will not be like the present, but will be the most perfect of
all forms; a form into which we shall be changed, just as
nymphae and aureliae are changed into forms more perfect;
forms to which our souls likewise aspire. For this reason,
moreover, the soul often hastens to the death of her body, this
being implanted in our soul, but not communicated to our
body.
297
523. (13) Meanwhile, when left to herself and no longer

connected with the organic forms necessary for the carrying
on of the bodily life, the soul seems able to put on whatso
ever form it will, and so, if from heaven she would descend
to earth, seems able in a moment to acquire the human form.
For the whole of nature is so formed that she may serve
spiritual life as an instrumental cause, so that, provided the
soul orders it, she flows into obedience spontaneously. It is
exactly the same as in the body, for the soul or spirit com
mands that this act or that shall be in agreement with its
will, and the body is at once a slave and rushes in obsequi
ously. She wishes to view the visible world, and straight
way the eye is formed for every form of the modifications
thereof. She wishes to hear, and straightway the marvelous
organism of the ear exists. She wishes to walk, to fly, to swim;
at once there are feet, wings, feathers, not to mention an in
finitude of other examples. Nay, the soul of an infant is
often commoved by the soul of a mother possessed of some
strong craving, or terrified, and straightway, in that part of
the body that is touched, there is effigied, in accordance with
the mere idea, a dormouse, a frog, a rose, etc. These are evi
dences that nature spontaneously hastens to obey when the
soul commands. So, after death, when released from her or
ganic bonds, the soul seems able to take on at will whatso
ever form is suitable to her state. Thus, if she would let her
self down to earth, she at once takes on the human form; nay,
if the occasion so demands, any other animal form. For
this, no more is required than to will it, all else then follow
ing of itself. Nor would such things be miracles, for they
would be no more contrary to nature than the putting on of
the human form by an ovum, or the marking of a dormouse,
or the denoting of herself in like ways on the skin in ten
der infants. The soul is set in a state of free determina
tion, and is not so limited as she was on earth. Indeed, she
can also in a moment put off and dissipate that form. Thus
she can present a burning torch and similar representations
such as cherubim, seraphim, and shepherds. The reason is
because the whole form is that of the soul; the elements are at
298
once taken up from the surrounding atmospheres, and [dis
posed] in this her form.
524. (14) The essential determinations of the form depend
on its active and spiritual principle interiorly within the soul.
The latter is not carried off into these or those impulses by
the affections of any animus, but is carried solely into uses
which are necessary. The love of novelties, varieties, and
inquisitiveness belongs to the animus and rational mind,
these being in ignorance of everything, but not to the soul,
from which nothing is hidden. Therefore, the soul is not car
ried away by the cupidity of that love. It is a necessary
consequence of this, that the soul forms for herself intellec
tories, and disposes them into harmonious orders; for with
out ordination, that is, subordination and coordination, noth
ing intellectual can result. It follows, therefore, that the
form of [her] body, like that of the intellectories is a purely
heavenly form. As to whether it is a vortical form, this may
indeed be suspected. But these matters are among things
secret, our conclusions being nothing more than conjectures.
Who is there that has seen it? It is reason alone that per
suades us with respect to it. When we live as souls, we shall
perhaps laugh at ourselves at having conjectured so childishly.
525. (15) It must not be thought that as souls we are wise
in the same way as when living in our rational mind or human
intellect, within which is more of ignorance than of intelli
gence. This mind, that is, our thought as it appears to us,
is entirely extinguished, what remains being the life of the
soul which is ignorant of nothing, but knows all things of her
self and therefore is herself pure science and intelligence; and
this does not speak and express its meanings by speech or
words, which are so many material ideas, but embraces all
that can ever touch upon a subject; for, as the intelligence
of the soul is in the aged and adult, such also it is in the in
fant. It is this intelligence which flows into our thought and
. gives us the ability to understand and philosophically to
connect together all the subjects of our thought. Wherefore,
after death there is no such impure intellect, but when the
soul flies from her body, it is as though she flew from dense
299
shade into clear sunlight, or from a dark dungeon into Rome,

that is, into the whole world; or it is like a blind man restored
to sight; for the truths of our mind are mere hypotheses,
fallacious principles, appearances, opinions, etc., while those
of the soul are truths themselves.
526. (16) Being pure intelligence and a spiritual essence,
the soul is above all sciences and doctrines. These are nat
ural. They stand far below the soul and wander about in
ignorance. Their arcana, which are known to the soul, the
mind can never penetrate, but continually approaches; for
the mind is no more able to express these arcana than algebra
can express its series of infinites expressed in a long series by
differential calculus-nor is there any way of reducing it by
integral calculus. Thus, as regards the state of its intelli
gence, one soul is exactly like another.
527. (17) As regards the state of its wisdom, however, the
soul of one man is never absolutely like the soul of another;
for the one soul stores up more perfect and purer loves, that
is to say, loves the Deity above itself, and its companion as
itself. Thus the soul of one man is ruled by Divine love, while
that of another loves the opposite thereof, and hates what
the other loves and so is rather to be called diabolical. How
greatly souls can differ becomes clear from a recital of spirit
ual loves. Hence there are divine souls, being souls belong
ing to a divine society, and diabolical souls or souls of an
infernal society. Yet all enjoy the most perfect intelligence
of what is good and true, but hatred or love of what is true
and good.
528. (18) Souls contract this nature in their bodily life,
and this by the mediation of the rational mind, the soul be
ing then in the state of her formation into a good state or
an evil, but not into the intelligence of what is true and good.
As to how the soul is affected, this has been pointed out
[no 475], and also what are the divine means which must
concur for the emending or perfecting of the state of the soul,
and for rendering her more entire, and restoring to her her
pristine divine image. But when the body has died and the ra
tional mind been extinguished, then the human soul has been
300
formed; and according to the extent and nature of that forma

tion, so she remains forever, there being nothing at hand which
can emend her. There is no influx from a mind, the nature
whereof is mutable and which can be perfected and depraved.
The rational mind alone is capable of this. There is no com
bat between her and the animus, or between their loves, and
so no hope of victory. The inteHigence is pure and most per
fect; thus within it is no mutability whereby some other
state can be induced on the soul. She is not annexed to any
organic form to which she conforms. In a word, such as the
soul is, such she remains forever, that is to say, as regards her
spiritual loves and hatreds and consequently, as to her eternal
felicity or unhappiness.
529. (19) This cannot prevent the soul from knowing all
that her mind has ever enacted in the body, that is, from
knowing what she has done in the world when an inhabitant
thereof, by the mediation of the mind. When the intelligence
is pure, it is necessary that it recall and be conscious of
the several things which are within any truth and goodness;
otherwise it would not be pure but would be mingled with
ignorance. From the mutation of her state, that is, from her
own acquired state, she knows all causes, these being infinite
in number; for there is no least action carried out voluntarily,
that is, there is no will and the desire and end thereof, that
does not affect the soul and contribute something to her state.
Consequently, from this her state, the soul becomes aware of
every cause, and well knows that she herself was in the cause
in her rational mind, and clearly perceives what is immanent
for her, whether felicity or infelicity.
530. (20) Therefore she enjoys the memory of the past;
not a memory such as is the memory and reminiscence of our
sensory, which is attached to material ideas and images, but
a memory which is pure and supremely perfect. Thus not
the least moment of the past life is concealed from her, not
even the least word which has contributed to the mutation of
her state. This she understands, not from any memory, but
from her own state, for with her all things are present which
have happened in the past, even in things natural. Where
301
there is a connection between causes and contingencies, there

is also the presence of all future things. This flows from the
intellect alone. What then, of the pure intelligence!
531. (21) The soul can no more change her state and put
on another state, than the body can change its deformed
countenance, its twisted lips, its humped back, or than the
muscle can change its distortion, all this being inherent as
something natural to the body; and the more it wishes to
emend itself, the more deformed it becomes. Thus it is
affected by a consciousness of itself.
532. (22) Meanwhile, the soul placed in such a state of in
telligence must needs be aware of all that happens in the
heavens and on earth-in the heavens, by a communication
of operations which must needs be most perfect, seeing that
in this life there is a like communication of minds and a kind
of sympathy between friends and relatives. As to the nature
of this communication of souls, this also can he described;
for the soul is engaged in the perpetual intuition of things
present, simultaneously with things past. There is an inter
vening heavenly aura, and a common spirit of all souls by
means whereof the operations of one soul must needs be com
municated to another; otherwise, in the absence of commun
ion, there would be no connection between souls by love.
This can be compared with our bodily hearing and sight; for
there are auras or atmospheres which communicate to any
distance that which is going on in the most remote regions;
nay, the sight takes in objective things from as far off as the
sun. What then of the Boul which is pure intelligence! would
it not sensate the several operations going on in other souls
wherever they are? Granting a heavenly aura, a Divine
Spirit colligating all things, and mutual love and its effects,
this communion follows from the connection of our argu
ments. But the communication cannot be compared with that
effected by the bodily senses, sight and hearing; for nothing
that goes on in the universe can be hidden from the soul. In
tellectual sight can terminate only with the limit of the uni
verse, as is evident from ocular sight.
302
HEAVEN 532-534
[Here one leaf (pp. 110 and 110a) is missing from the manu
script. What follows on page 111 is the continuation of a
chapter apparently headed:
XXXVIII
Heaven, or the Society of Happy Souls
533. '" Such] is the difference between animi and minds,
their perpetual dissensions, strifes, controversies, in things
both philosophical and theological, and in things worldly and
corporeal, that the animus of one person is never in concord
with that of another. Therefore so many schisms and heresies
are tolerated, and so many controversies. These have been
tolerated as though from the singular providence of God.
And so much power has been left to the devil that he might
disjoin animi and minds, and so might impress his own spe
cial state upon each individual soul. This, moreover, seems
to have been the reason why it was permitted Adam to com
mit sin; for in the whole of antiquity, the soul of no one
man is distinguished from that of another; thus there was
no society. Moreover, it seems to come from this cause that
parents were so strictly forbidden to enter into matrimony
with their sons and daughters, and a brother to conjoin
himself with his sister, etc., relations which would -conjoin
souls; and also why matrimonies are said to be contracted
-.
and confirmed in God. To say the least, an infinitude of
indications of Divine Providence stands forth in man's enter
ing into matrimony, and that God leaves to every man the
free determination of his actions, and has decreed, as it were,
not to injure, even in the least way, the liberty of anyone,
but rather to permit him to rush into the destruction of him
self and of others; for the liberty of human souls is the sole
means of disjoining the animi, and hence also the souls which
are affected.
534. Therefore Divine Providence is most especially oper
ative in distinguishing individual souls from each other, the
303
existence of a most perfect society of souls being the very

end of creation; for the ultimate end must be that end which
is the first and the last end of creation, all other things being
means tending to that end, as is clear if we examine them in
detail. The progression of the means goes far beyond nature.
Can anyone say that an earthly society can be the ulti
mate end, seeing that the body is for the sake of the soul?
Must there not be a further end for the sake of which the
soul is? and for the sake of which heaven and the universe?
Can there be any other end than the existence of a society
and kingdom of God to be constituted of all human souls?
This is so clear that we know not whether it can be called
into doubt; so manifest, that it can be confirmed from every
single thing that exists in the world.
535. Since, therefore, there is no soul absolutely like an
other, some difference qr diversity of state existing between
all souls, this did not obtain merely for the sake of distin
guishing souls from each other but that from this distinction
a most perfect form of society might arise. In a most per
fect form of society, there must be not only a variety of all
souls but a variety where the several souls are in such con
cord that together they constitute a society wherein nothing
can be lacking which is not to be found in some one soul.
Such is the form in the atmospheric world or macrocosm; such
it is among the constituent parts in every individual body, that
is, among its fibers, and cortical glands, etc. This variety I
call harmonic, being a variety where all the varied constituents
mutually relate themselves to each other by a certain natural
analogy, and in this way constitute a society which is a one; for
nothing can coalesce and constitute a unit, as it were, or a single
form, unless there be an analogy between the determinants and
the determinations, from whence arises conjunction. It is for
this reason that harmony is pleasing and conjoins, while dis
harmony is unpleasing and disjoins. Thus a form of govern
ment can never be said to be perfect unless there be variety,
and in the variety a harmony whereby one member rightly
comports himself to another according to natural laws. The
analogical similitude itself, that is to say, the harmony, sim
304
HEAVEN 535-538
ulates equality, identity and union. Otherwise a perfect so

ciety or form of society can never be instituted.
536. This harmonic variety, however, does not consist in
an external variety of souls, but in a spiritual variety, be
ing a variety in love toward God and their neighbor; for the
state of a soul has reference solely to its spiritual state, to
wit, that it be near to its God. As long as any difference
or discrimination is lacking, some place in heaven is said to
be still lacking. Thus all differences must be supplied before
a form can exist in utmost perfection.
537. As to whether there will be many societies and
many heavens, as it were, from which will exist that universal
society which is called the kingdom of God, this also seems
a possible inference; for all variety, including spiritual va
riety, supposes some order, subordination, and coordination,
just as, on earth, one individual society relates itself to an
other, and taken together they constitute a kingdom. The
same conclusion can be reached, as it seems, from the variety
in the states1 of animi,2 a variety granted but not admitted;
for if a form of government is to be perfect, it is necessary
that all its societies produce among themselves a general har
mony, just as their individual members produce a particular
harmony.
538. This is called the Kingdom of God; but the City of
God, which is the seminary of the Kingdom, is on earth. This
is not confined to any certain religion or church but is scat
tered throughout the whole globe. God chooses its members
from all religions, that is to say, from those who have effec
tively loved God above themselves, and their companions
as themselves; for this is the law of all laws, the culminating
point of all decrees, both divine and natural, all else, such as
ecclesiastical forms, etc., being means that lead thereto. God
gathers this His church from the whole globe, and this until
all places are occupied, that is, so long as any difference is
1 Reading statuum for status. could equally well be read ani
• The Latin Editor reads ani morum as in the translation.
marum (of souls), but the word
305
left remaining which is necessary to the form of government

that it may become supremely perfect.
539. Such a society is not possible without its head or
prince, a prince, namely, who has been a man without guilt
or evil deed, the conqueror of all the affections of the animus,
virtue itself and piety itself, and a love of God above him
self, and of his companion as himself, and thus, in whom is
Divinity, that is, in whom the universal society would be
represented, and through whom the members of the society
could approach their Deity. Without such a king of souls,
the society would be gathered in vain, and in vain would
exist and subsist. This also follows of necessity from the
form of government already granted; from the disparity of
state in each member; and from the nearness of God by love.
Then certainly the form would be a form to be set up wholly
by purer beings of every degree, consequently, by the purest
Being, who was without sin, that is, by our Savior and Pre
server Jesus Christ, by faith in whom, and by love, we are
alone able to draw near to the Divine throne.
540. Behold the form of government of heavenly society
or societies; that is, behold the kingdom of God adumbrated
in a few words! The form itself of such government cannot
wholly differ from a perfect form of government in earthly
societies; save in the respect that what in the latter is imper
fect, is there most perfect; that it is spiritual loves which dis
tribute the dignities; and that they are nearer to their prince.
There also each individual possesses his own heaven, and en
joys his own felicity.
541. In such a society, there must needs reign every joy,
happiness, and felicity, replete with the inmost essence and
the most delicious sensation of love and of the virtues. But
no tongue can describe this felicity and these joys, for they
are infinitely above corporeal felicities and joys, these being
such that, relatively, they are as the shadows or trivialities
of delights, and ought hardly to enter into any enumeration
thereof. If those human delights which are harmless be ex
alted to the highest degree, or concentrated to the inmost,
it seems possible that some idea might then be conceived of
306
HEAVEN 541
this delight. The society is a universal society, the units

whereof are to be counted by myriads. It is a most perfect
communion of all these units, that is, a consociation of spirit-
ual minds, so complete, that whatever is in one mind is com-
mon to the other, there being thus a single soul in the society.
In this way there is every variety possible in the universe,
and this diffuses and at the same time concentrates the felici-
ties of the mind. The happiness is concentrated into each
member of the society, and from each, it is spread to the
society. It is multiplied infinitely more if there are many
societies, since among themselves these also constitute a form
of government and of variety; for whatever was delightful
in life and at the same time pure, is exalted to the last de-
gree. The communication of minds is not effected by speech
but by an activity of the mind, whence comes angelic speech,
a speech which does not express the least thing by words
or material ideas, but expresses simultaneously and by a
single operation things we could express only by thousands
of words. The sight is not the sight of the eye but is within,
and this to the end that we may know what is going on
in a whole society with this infinite variety. There is also
an intuition of things past as though they were present, that
is, a divining by the aid of everything that has ever been
on earth; a representation of the whole of heaven; in a word,
infinite varieties which infuse souls even to ineffable glad-
ness. There is no impure love, but a pure friendship which
succeeds in its place. There is no thought of the future,
no desire, hope or anxiety. Being more constant and eternal,
all things are devoid of anxiety and of fear of loss. Hence
the veneration and adoration of their Deity with which the
heavens of heavens resound. Hence all other spiritual de-
lights, these being elevated to a still higher degree. Since these
things are ineffable, those here mentioned are exceeding few.
Such seems to be that life which is truly life, being utterly
distinct, whereas the bodily life is merely a representation of
life, a shade and a sleep; for to live is to understand and be
wise, and truly to live is to live by love with Him who is
life itself.
307
542. It follows from the above, that they conspire by

unanimous consent to the glory of their Lord and the love
of the citizens in heaven and on earth, their joy being elevated
according to the number of their companions; at the same time
they are made glad by love of the inmost thing, that the
kingdom of God is increased, this being the effect of the two
loves. Moreover, from so many pure minds is made up the
common animus of the society, just as is the case in our body;
for our animus is made up of the minds of our intellectories.
It is the same also with the common intellect. As to the in
flux which the common animus has into our souls-for the
communication of that society with us is effected only through
our souls-to describe this is no part of our present subject.
Therefore, May Thy kingdom come and Thy will be done on
earth as in the heavens!
XXXIX
Hell or the Society of Unhappy Souls
543. That society is called infernal, diabolical, unhappy

which is in opposite loves, that is, in which souls live in hat
red to God and their companions. It must certainly exist,
if there is to be every variety between the two opposites, and
indeed, actually, nothing being possible in the spiritual idea
of the soul which does not exist actually; for the soul is pure
intelligence and is not beset by any shades of ignorance.
Moreover, intermediates cannot exist without their opposites,
it being from opposites that relations are known as to their
nature. Hence the devil, an infernal society, exists actually,
that is, a society burning with the love of scattering the heav
enly society.. Nor without such an evil society would the
blessed be kindled with any zeal and ardor, or souls be ardent
in the protection of the church, and thus feel themselves hap
pier from opposites.
544. To this society come all souls which hold God and
the neighbor in hatred. From these principles, that is to say,
from the love of self, flow crimes and wicked deeds of every
kind. They are defiled with vices; and when their eyes are
308
HELL 544-546
opened and they behold truths which in this life they had
endeavored to dissipate by specious arguments and sophistic
reasonings, they are inmostly tormented by their own con-
sciences. But when with them there is no ignorance but a
bare knowledge of truths, as is the case after an inanimate
death; and when the state of the soul has already been de-
formed and has contracted a nature so that it cannot return
to a finer state; then it must needs be in inmost and deepest
anguish and torture. And because this anguish and torture
is in the soul, and spiritual pain cannot be described in words
or conceived of in ideas-for it surpasses flames, the gnash-
ing of teeth and the many other tortures of earth-they are
inmostly tortured as though in a caldron with oil perpetually
pouring in and burning and blazing.
545. That this society also is provided with its leader and
prince seems a conclusion not to be denied; for its members
constitute together a society or hell, and without a leader one
would rush upon another like the Erinnyes and Furies. s No
love of a superior 4 nor any mutual love conjoins souls, but only
fear of their leader or prince, to whom perhaps is given the
power of torturing his subject souls whenever they do not per-
form their office; and so long as there is a society, some hope
seems still to remain of making war with heaven and exalting
himselfll to the throne. They do indeed find out the im-
possibility of this, but nevertheless pure hatred urges them
on. Thus, so long as they are nourished by some hope, and
this grows with their increase, they seem in a way to be
gladdened-not inwardly but only superficially. Like the
envious at the misfortune of some unknown person, they are
inmostly in anguish because they know that they themselves
will be in misery to eternity.
546. At the Last Judgment, however, when the radiance
of Divine omnipotence, omnipresence, wisdom, justice, and
love shall shine forth in full splendor so that each one can see
• The Erinnyes and Furies of otherwise the translation would be
Greek Mythology. See n. 208n. ruperior love.
• Reading ruperioris for ruperior; • se, himself or themselves.
309
his past life in himself and his own state--for all things will
then be seen as though in midday light, that is, in the sole
light of wisdom-and, without being sentenced, can know
what punishment he deserves; this society will lose all hope,
and will behold its own eternal ruin appearing before its sight.
And when, at the same time, it shaH behold not only the king
dom of God but also the complete and pure felicity of the
members of that society, it follows that hatred will pass over
into envy and envy into misery and anxieties; and, with the
breaking up of the form of the society, the one member, from
inseated hatred, will then rush against the other as though
they were furies; and then, by the communion of those souls
which, concordant in their hatred toward heavenly society,
are also discordant among themselves, liberty being granted
and the reins loosed, the one soul will be the other's devil,
almost as on earth when liberty is not restained.
547. This society will be the greatest society, but after
the Judgment it is no society; and though it would be the
greatest, yet it avails nothing against the least of heavenly
societies i for the latter are most closely conj oined by mutual
love, being bound together indeed under Divine Love, while
infernal souls are united only under their prince. Moreover,
they are not connected together by any mutual love but are
disjoined by perpetual hatred, and, in addition, are separated
from God the UniteI'. Thus the least handful of heavenly
souls is able to put to flight a whole army of wicked souls,
especially since the latter themselves fear them and flee the
truth which they contemplate in themselves, and so are with
out confidence. Hence, one blessed soul could put to flight
many thousands of unhappy souls.
548. Moreover, the ancients, both philosophers and physi
cists and pagan priests have confirmed the existence of in
fernal torments by common consent. Their poets describe
the torments of Tantalus, etc.; they also speak of Erebus, the
Styx, the Erinnyes, the Furies. Pythagoras, Plato and others
have thought still more concerning their torments;6 for, by
• Cf. A Phil. N. E., p. 382 seq.
310
DIVINE PROVIDENCE 548-549
the lumen of their own nature, they have seen that those could
never be happy who have not by virtue in this life prepared
for themselves the way to happiness.
XL
Divine Providence
549. No one, I think, is so insane as to deny that there is
some supreme direction or Divine Providence; for all things
are full of the Deity, and in each and everyone of them we
wonder at the order which is attributed to nature and the per-
petual preservation thereof, not from itself which would be
absurd, but by some higher Being from whom it existed and
consequently subsists. We are confounded by the abundance
of phenomena confirming a directing Providence, as, for in-
stance, that everything appears to be for the sake of a use
or end; that one end is plainly for the sake of another, so
that there is a series of ends, from some first end through
intermediates to the last end, that is, the first. But let us
see this from example: The earth exists that it may be in-
habited by living creatures; the mineral kingdom, that it may
produce the vegetable; the vegetable kingdom, that it may
nourish and sustain the animal; the lower species of animals,
that they may serve the higher, and all that they may serve
the human race; the atmospheres, that we may be surrounded
therewith and be held together in body, and that we may
breathe and speak; the ether with the sun, that our several
parts may exist and also that we may see. But why mention
other examples? There is not the least worm nor a small herb
nor a blade of grass without its use, to wit, that it may serve
as a means to some end. Thus the visible world is a com-
plex of means to an end beyond the world, that is, beyond
nature which is of the world; for ends make their progress
by means of natural effects, and thus by means of the whole
of nature. As to the fact that there is such a perpetual rela-
tion and progress of ends, to wit, that one thing is continually
for the sake of another, this must be ascribed to Divine Provi-
311
dence, namely, that God has so provided that the several par
ticulars shall maintain their order. 7
550. The universe, with the several things therein even to
the least, is the work of God alone, for nothing could flow to
gether of itself. What can exist without an origin? If the
origin belonged to nature, whence then is nature?-unless you
worship her as God. And if these things are the work of
God, it is necessary that He sustain them, for without per
petual sustentation, all things would relapse into their primi
tive chaos. Therefore, He is actually omnipresent, omnis
cient, omnipotent; and if omnipotent, it follows that He pro
vides that in the several things of the universe there be ends
intermediate to the ultimate end. To rule the universe, and
to provide, is the Divine itself and the property thereof; nor
does it have need of counsel or concern; for all things follow
from it and its essence, wisdom, love, nexus, and order, and
this in their own genuine series.
551. If there is a universal providence of God, there is
also a singular8 providence, for a universal providence is
not possible without singular providences, it being from this
that it is called universal. The nature of a universal can be
judged from its singulars, thus the nature of [universal] provi
dence from singular providences, nor would there be any uni
versal providence unless it were present in singular provi
dences, and this with the providence that they shall all aspire
to universal ends.
7 In the MS. here follows the be and in every globule thereof. But
ginning of a new paragraph, crossed a general has no existence apart
off: "That God is the Creator, from particulars, e.g., a general
Director, and Provider of the uni body has no existence apart from
verse, follows- its particular members. To illus
8 Swedenborg distinguishes be trate both usages: A heavenly so
tween universal and singular, on ciety as a society exists only from
the one hand, and aeneml and par its members, but the love of God
ticular on the other. The uni is universally present in the whole
versal is wholly present in every society and in each single member
singular thereof, e.g., the soul is thereof.
universally present in the blood,
312
552. All providence regards an end and looks to the means
to that end. Hence, in the present it embraces things future,
and in the complex of things past, it embraces the present,
and thus the series of means to some end, which is the first and
the last in the mediate ends. But of what nature is the Divine
Providence, we may see much better from examples than from
bare axioms.
553. The end of creation, that is, the end for the sake of
which the world was created, can be no other than the first
and last end, or the most universal of all ends, and that which
is perpetually regnant in the created universe, which is the
complex of means aspiring together to that end. The end of
creation can be no other than the existence of a universal so
ciety of souls, or a heaven, that is, the kingdom of God. That
this was the end of creation can be confirmed by innumerable
arguments; for it would be absurd to say that the world was
created for the sake of the earth and earthly societies and this
miserable and perishable life. All things on earth are for the
sake of man, and all things in man for the sake of his soul.
The soul cannot be for no end, and if it exists for some end,
that end must be a society over which is God; for His Provi
dence has regard to souls which are spiritual, and His works
are suited to men, and men can be consociated.
554. That a society of souls may exist, that is a heavenly
society, it is necessary that there be a most perfect form of
government, to wit, that souls be distinct from each other,
and between the souls every possible variety which is to be
called harmonic variety. From such harmony, then arises a
consensus and accord which shall produce every effect and
end that has ever been foreseen and provided for.
555. Therefore, granted this most universal end, the first,
the all in mediate ends, the last, and thus the same as the
first, let us now see how Divine Providence reigns in provid
ing for and dispensing the means. It may be said God might
have created such a society at once, without our earth and
things of the world; that is, might have filled heaven with
souls without any generation and multiplication on this earth.
This, indeed, cannot be denied. All things are possible to
313
God; but there are also innumerable things which to Him are
impossible, to wit, being imperfect, mortal, inconstant, evil,
unjust; this is repugnant to His nature. Moreover, fthe im
mediate creation of such a society of souls is impossible] be
cause a society the form whereof is supremely perfect is
wholly impossible without every variety, from the most per
fect even to the most imperfect, from the pure to the impure,
from love to hatred; or [it is impossible], because intermediates
have their being from given opposites, that is, between the
highest good or God and the lowest evil or the Devil. Grant
ing all this, it follows that God, being veriest perfection, wis
dom, goodness, and love, could never have created any devil
immediately, nor a soul wherein is evil or any guilt; and so
could not have created a man with vice, crime, and sin, nor,
consequently, that variety which is requisite in such a society;
for whatever flows immediately from God must needs be
supremely good and perfect. The fact that what is evil and
imperfect was to arise, draws its origin or cause immediately,
not from God, but from the created subject wherein is nature,
thus from the devil, in that he rose up against his God and
was a rebel; from Adam, in that he acted against the Divine
mandate, seeking for himself a more perfect and superior ex
istence. That Divine Providence did not lead Adam to this
evil immediately, but permitted it, is very clear from Sacred
Scripture; to wit, that it permitted the serpent [to tempt
him]; forbade Adam the tree; created him free; did not in
struct him in these matters; that, at the moment he would
eat, it did not check him that he might abstain therefrom, as
it did Abraham when he would sacrifice his son, etc. All these
circumstances clearly demonstrate that it was providence that
he could sin, and foreknowledge that he would sin and would
lose his pristine integrity, and that from this, as from its prin
ciple, would then come the result that souls would be mutually
distinguished from each other; that every variety of souls
could exist which was at all possible; and that thus would
be obtained the end of creation, that is, the kingdom of God,
the seminaries whereof are terrestrial societies which like
wise represent the heavenly society, there being nothing in this
314
world which does not contain a representation of the future
world.
556. That this end may be obtained, it is necessary that
men be granted free will. The cause of variety in subject
beings, flows solely from free exercise and from liberty of the
will. Without this, there would be no intellect, nor any
morality, virtue, vice, crime, guilt; no affection of the soul,
that is, no mutation of its state. This is the reason why God
has willed ,to preserve free human will holy9 and inviolate,
even for wicked deeds; so that we seem willing to deny Divine
Providence on almost the same principle as that on which we
would confirm it. But the liberty granted human minds is
not absolute but limited, being like a bird which the fowler
holds caught by its foot and tied to a string, and which can
fly around to a certain distance. It is provided that it shall
not be carried beyond limits.
557. The means which restrict the free will of men are
many in number, to wit, societies and their forms of govern-
ment, law, corporal punishments, judges, all designed to the
end that men shall not abuse their free will. Consciences and
the laws and rights impressed on our minds, these being the
most stringent bonds. Religion or Divine worship, the fear
of eternal punishments and condemnations, and the love of
happiness and hope therefor. Religion, therefore, is said to
be the bond of a society and of societies. There is a certain
fate (of which later1 ) which continually follows every indi-
vidual and abides with him according to his crimes or virtues.
What is more especially the cause of fate is the influx of God
by His Spirit into souls, which yet exist so contingently that
it appears as though there were no Providence or counsel. To
resume: Had no such means been provided, and had God
Himself interfered as the ruler and director of all things, no
human society could ever have existed wherein one individual
ever aspires after the destruction of another, and yearns to
despoil him of his goods, and wherein many esteem themselves
more than their societies, and imagine to themselves that all
• Reading sanctum for what ap- 1 See n. 560 fin.
pears to be sontem (guilty).
315
things are for them. Such a society, though in itself unsocia

ble, yet continues to exist as an integral society, and without
Divine Providence, this could never be the case.
558. Veriest Divine Providence principally reigns in so
distinguishing individuals from individuals that the state of
one soul shall not be absolutely like that of another. It is
for this reason that liberty has been granted; that matrimonies
are said to be foreordained in heaven; that marriages of
parents and children and of brothers and sisters are wholly
forbidden; that schisms and controversies, both in respect to
religions and in respect to principles in economy, politics,
philosophy, and physics, are tolerated and almo~t inspi~d;
that all men differ in respect to principles and consequently,
in animus, there being as many animi as there are heads.
Nature herself abhors all equality between one thing and an
other, for they would then be one and the same thing, and
there would be nothing distinct and hence nothing natural.
559. Providence also reigns most singularly and universally
in electing and foreseeing those who are to attain to heavenly
happiness; for the human race is a seminary, and the City
of God or the Church from which the heavenly society is
gathered, is scattered throughout the whole globe. Thus all
those who are called the elect are ruled by a peculiar provi
dence of God.
560. This is the principal end, and these are the means
leading to that end. But there is yet an infinity of other
means which enter in, to constitute the essence of the means,
and thus which enter into this series of ends, either mediately
or immediately, to wit, in respect to things mundane and cor
poreal, and in respect to things spiritual. In respect to things
corporeal, in that men may be [fed and] covered or clothed.
Therefore the whole globe and even tiny worms supply cloth
ing, as also food, both being necessary if man is to live in
a body. Therefore both are provided. In respect to things
mundane, that the citizen may live, such as wealth and pos
sessions, besides an infinitude of other things which are in the
world; also sciences, etc. In respect to things spiritual, in
that the nature of heaven is revealed, the nature-ofthe wiii,
316
FATE, FORTUNE, PREDESTINATION, PRUDENCE 560-561
how [God] is to be adored, and by what means the state of

the soul is to be so perfected as to be a member of heaven,
and this in such way that its liberty is not injured but that
it can turn to God.
XLI
Fate, Fortune, Predestination, Human Prudence
561. But we have treated of providence, fate) fortune) pre
destination) and human prudence) and this may be looked up
and added. 2
• In volume I of the second edi contents. The work originally
tion of the Oeconomia Regni Ani consisted of over eighty pages, of
malis, Swedenborg announced the which only thirty-six are now ex
following four works as "to be tant. The first thirty pages deal
published": The Fibre, The Ani with the system of Pre-established
mal Spirit, Coru;ordance Dj Three Harmony. There is then a gap of
Systems concerning the Human thirty-two pages in which perhaps
S03!:.l, and Divine Prudence [a the System of Physical Influx and
printer's error for Providence], that of Spiritual Influx were taken
Predestination, Fate, Fortune, and up. On pp. 73-80 seq., Sweden
H'I.!-man Prudence. None of these borg gives his own doctrine on the
works was published by Sweden subject, but pp. 81 seq. are lost
borg. All of them, however, were and his treatment ends in the mid
written by him, and the first three dle oC a sentence. It is probable)
are found preservedamong his that the missing pages contained \
MSS., and have been printed both not only the completion of the
in Latin and in English translation, work but also the treatise on Di- (
"" the second and third being includ vine Providence, Predestination, J
ed in O]JU8cula Philosophica (Lon etc. It is probably to this work
don 1840) and in Psycholor;U;al that Swedenborg refers when he
Transactions (Phila. 1920). "In writes in his Journal of Dreams,
these publications, the third work n. 206: "My father came out and
of the advertised list is entitled: said to me that what I had writ
The First Transaction. The Soul ten about Providence was the fin
and the Harmony between Soul est. I called to mind that it was
and Body; but that it is the same only a small treatise." Sweden
work as Commercium etc., of the borg's father died seven years be
list is evident both from its pref Core the work was written, but
ace in which Swedenborg an that would not be an objection
nounces his intentions to publish to the representation spoken of in
short T~ctions "four Or five the Journal.
time;-;-~" a.nd also from its
317
XLII
A Universal Mathesis
562. The celebrated(LOCk~,in his treatise on The Human
Understanding, says:*
"The ideas which, form the basis of morality, being all real
essences, and of such a nature that they sustain a mutual
connection and adaptation which may be discovered, it fol
lows that as soon as we discover these relations, we shall to
that extent be in possession of so many real, certain, and gen
eral truths; and I am sure that in following a good method,
one might bring a large part of moral science to such a degree
of evidence and certitude that an attentive and judicious man
would no longer find in it any matter of doubt, more than
he would in propositions of mathematics which have been
demonstrated to him" (Book iv, ch. xii [sect. 8]).
And elsewhere: "Perhaps, if one should consider distinctly
and with all possible care the kind of science which proceeds
upon the basis of ideas and words, this would produce a logic
and a critique different from those hitherto seen" (Book iv,
ch. xxi [sect. 4]).
Again: "I do not doubt but that in the state and present
constitution of our nature, human knowledge may be car
ried far beyond any point thus far attained, if men will under
take sincerely and with entire mental freedom to perfect_ the
means.,9f ~iscovering the truth with the sam; application a~d
the same industry which they employ in coloring and main
taining a falsity, in defending a system of which they are de
clared partisans, or certain interests in which they are en
gaged" (Book iv, ch. iii [sect. 6]).
Further: "The highest degree of our knowledge is intuition
without reasoning; . . . for this is certain knowledge secure
from all doubt, having no need of proof and incapable of re
ceiving it, because it is the highest point of all human certi
tude; such is that which the angels now possess, and that
* Swedenborg here quotes ver of Locke's work (Amsterdam,
batim from the French translation i7ixl).~
318
A UNIVERSAL MATHESIS 562-564
which the spirits of the just made perfect will attain to in

the life to come. It embraces a thousand things which at
present entirely escape our understanding, our reason in its
limited range of vision catching few gleams of them, the rest
remaining veiled in darkness from our view" (Book iv, ch. xvii
[sect. 14]).
563. There is a science of sciences, that is, a universal sci
ence, which contains in itself all other sciences, and from
which, as being parts thereof, they can be resolved into this
science or that. Such a science is not acquired by learning;
it is connate, being especially connate in souls which are pure
intelligences. Such is the science of souls when released from
the body, and of angels, and it would seem that if they com
municated their thoughts, or conversed, they could not be tied
down by words; for all words are material ideas and forms
which are as signs, the signification of which the mind under
stands and this from accustomed usage. From this science
the soul at once sees the intrinsic nature of all things set be
fore it; sees namely, whether they are good or evil, and gives
assent or opposition according to their nature. Unless the
soul were furnished with such a science, it cou]d never flow
into our thoughts and infuse them, as it were, with the power
of understanding and expressing ~igher things; nor could it
construct all its organic forms in conformity with the inmost
and most secret laws of mechanics, physics, chemistry, etc.
Therefore, the fact that there is such a science cannot be
denied.
564. There are truths a priori, that is to say, propositions
which are at once recognized as true and for the comprehen
sion of which there is no need of demonstrations a posteriori,
that is, of confirmation by experience and the senses. Truth
presents itself naked, and dictates, as it were, that it is such.
The mind is often indignant that such truths have to be dem
onstrated when they are above all demonstration; for all
harmonies and all order naturally soothes and delights the
organs of our senses, while disharmonies constrict and hurt
them. So also with truths within which is intellectual order,
as it were. Wherefore, if we were not overwhelmed with the
319
problems of the sciences, with the many cupidities of the ani

mus, and with like things, we would be able to know truths
purely; for a certain consensus, a harmony, as it were, gives
affulgence, and this from some sacred shrine, I know not
whence.
565. This comes from the fact that superior forms contain
in themselves everything that can be contained in inferior
forms, just as a universal genus contains within it all its
species. Thus a superior form is the order and principle of the
forms that follow it, and consequently, of all their forces,
modes and qualities. Thus, if there is a nexus like that of the
soul with its body by means of organic forms, the superior
forms sensate in themselves and their very nature all that
is in harmony with their form, or in disharmony; consequently,
all that can possibly be present in inferior forms.
566. Indeed, it seems possible that this science can be sub
mitted to calculation; but as to how, this can be perceived
from what occurs in respect to the internal sensory; to wit:
all ideas, both material and intellectual, are nothing but
changes of the state of the sensory and intellectory. The
nature of these changes of state can be understood from
the description of forms, especially the circular and spiral.
The floul perceives every such change, and knows what it signi
fies. Changes of state are universal and singular, common and
particular, general, specific, and individual, and all can be sub
mitted to an algebraic calculation, and be reduced by rules
to an equation in the same manner as is done in the calculus
of infinites. Moreover, in the mind they are all reduced to
their proper equations, wherein those things are present simul
taneously which previously had been gathered, that is, had
entered into the equation, successively, Things which occur
in the internal sensory can be reduced to higher powers, that
is, by their own rules, they can be elevated to superior de
grees. In this way, changes of state exist which are more
universal, and these contain, both simultaneously and suc
cessively, infinitely more singulars, which correspond to the
truths which the soul perceives from the changes of state.
320
A UNIVERSAL MA THESIS 567
567. Thus it is indeed possible to submit ideas of the mind

to calculation, whence arises a universal mathesis; but from
this, no certainty can be deduced unless the certainty from
which the equations are to be commenced be presupposed and
acknowledged. Moreover I should also like to have set forth
one or two attempts; indeed, I have ascertained the possibility
thereof. But there are many rules to be premised, data to
be set forth, and truths to be connected together, before I
can undertake the task. And even then, we fall at last into
a Gordian knot or equation; and to extricate ourselves there
from would require an amount of labor greater than the value
of the work justifies us in devoting to it. Moreover, from
the slightest error in the calculation we can faH into many
fallacies. For_this reason, I forbear !!laking the atteIllpt, anq
~ place thereof ~ye~sired to set for~ey to Natural
\
, and Spiritual Arcana 9..Y way of Correspondences and Repre
~ sentations which more quickly and surely leads us into hidden
I truths. Since this doctrine has hitherto been unknown to the
world, it behooves me further to dwell on it.
[The End]
321
APPENDIX
THE FIRST THREE PAGES OF CODEX 54

[As noted in the Introduction by the Editor, the first three
pages of Codex 54 constitute the first draft sketch of chapters
IX to XIV of a projected work on The Fibre. They are
probably part of a manuscript containing a draft of the entire
work possibly reading as follows:
I The Cortical Substance (The Fibre, n. 57a seq.).
II The Medullary Substance (ibid., n. 124a seq.).
III The Vessel compared with the Fibre (ibid.,
n. 132a seq.).
IV The Corporeal Fibre (ibid., n. 167a seq.).
V The Nature of Nerves (ibid., n. 188 seq.).

VI The Tunics and Ligaments of Nerves (ibid.,
n. 208 seq.).
VII Plexuses of Fibres in Brain and Body (ibid.,
n. 228 seq.).
VIII The Ganglia of the Nerves (ibid., n. 237 seq.).
IX The Simple Fibre is of a Celestial Nature (ibid.,
n. 274 seq.).
The Contents of the three pages are as follows:]
THE SIMPLE FIBER IS OF A CELESTIAL* NATURE [The Fibre,

chap. xvii] The Successive Formation of Blood Vessels from
the Simple Fiber.
The simplest fiber is the form of forms, being the fiber that
forms all other fibers that follow in order.
* It should be noted that the the term refers to the quality of
word celestial does not have the the reception of the Divine, this
same significance here as in the reception being natural, spiritual
Author's theological works. There or celestial. Here it refers to the
322
APPENDIX
By a perpetually spiral circumfluxion, the simplest fiber

forms a kind of surface or membrane, this being the second,
that is to say, the medullary or nervous fiber of the body.
This is merely a little canal constructed out of the simple
fiber; but, together with the fluid that permeates it, it con-
stitutes a fiber.
This fiber, therefore, because it descends from the prior
fibers, that is to say, is the prior fiber thus convoluted and is
nothing but the mere simple fiber, flows in a spiral or per-
petually circular flux.
Descending to the provinces of the body, this fiber in turn
forms a kind of gland not unlike the cortical, and from this
proceeds a corporeal fiber which forms a little tunic that
proximately invests the arterial vessels.
Furthermore, the fiber enters into the large arteries, and
there likewise forms glands; and these put forth fibers from
which arises the muscular tunic.
Therefore, a nervous, glandular, tendinous, and muscular
tunic, together with a membranous, is what constitutes arteries
and veins, each and all of which are formed of fibers.
Thus the blood vessel descends from the simple fiber by con-
tinuous derivation.
The arterial vessel can therefore be called the third fiber,
the medullary fiber the second, and the simple fiber the first.
In this respect, the first fiber can also be called the first
vessel, after which comes the second, and finally the vessel
properly so called, being the blood vessel.
As to the fluids which course through these vessels, the first
vital essence is the supereminent blood, being blood of the su-
preme degree. The blood of the second fiber is the middle
or purer blood; and the blood of the arteries is blood properly
so called, being the red blood.
nature of created forms. The low- tical or celestial which is the form
est of these is the angular form- of the first aura and is called by
the form of matter. Then comes Swedenborg "the supreme of all
the circular, the form of the air; natural forms" (The Fibre, n. 266).
the spiral, the form of the ether; Above this are the spiritual form
the vortical, the form of the mag- and the Divine, but these are pred-
netic aura, and the perpetual vor- icated of uncreated substances.
323
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
Thus the simple fiber is the animal essence proper, the form
of forms. NOTffiNG ELSE IS CONTINUOUS IN THE WHOLE BODY;
THAT IS TO SAY, THE SIMPLE FIBER ALONE IS ITS WHOLE FORM
[The Fibre, chap. XXIV].
All in the body that is continuous or essentially determined,
that is, formed, is the simple fiber,
For in the medullary fiber is nothing but simple fiber,
In the blood vessel is nothing but medullary fiber,
In the whole body is nothing that is not woven· of vessels
and fibers,
And what does not appear to be woven of these, such as
tendons, cartilages and bones, was still so woven originally,
as shown by experience.
Thus, in the whole body there is nothing but simple fiber,
this being its whole form.
Nor is there any continuous ingredient which is continuous
and cohering, save the simple fiber which is the sole continu
ous substantial.
And, to proceed further, if the simple fiber is made up of
the first essence of the animal creature, it follows that in the
whole animal there is nothing that forms it save this essence,
The fluids of divers kinds which are contained in the medul
lary fibers and blood vessels as serums, do not constitute their
form; for forms consist of fibers, but fluids flow within fibers
and vessels.
If this essence is the soul, it follows that it is this alone that
is the form.
THE SIMPLE FIBER IS OF A CELESTIAL NATURE, WHAT THE BODY

IS [The Fibre, chap, XXV],
Since each part or individual of the first substance is of a
celestial form and corresponds to the substance of heaven,
that is to say, to the substance of the first or most universal
aura, it follows that there is nothing in the simple fiber that is
not a celestial form, a form that is ruled solely by spirit
ual forms,
This form, being above all other forms, can in no wise be
touched, and still less harmed, by the latter, it being utterly
324
APPENDIX
Immune from all injury. Take any compound composed of

simples, and tell me, In what way can such compound act
upon its own simpIes? They are utterly remote therefrom
and are not dependent upon it.
The fiber, then, is not terrestrial as held by Aristotle* but
is of a celestial nature, essence, and form.
It is therefore immortal and cannot perish because it can-
not be touched.
That which is terrestrial and corporeal is not the fiber but
is that part of the red blood and of the middle blood within
the globule which serves as an instrumental cause, to the end
that, by successive derivation, the first essence of the blood
may be enabled to descend in series into the ultimate world
and to be present therein; in a word, to constitute bloods
wherein that celestial form shall yet rule.
This is the sole corporeal thing from which exists the em-
bodiment of the blood, nor does anything contribute to the
form save that which courses through these fibers and adapts
them to enter into the [series of] forms.
This part, that is to say, this corporeal element, is that
which is mortal and which, with the resolution of the blood
globules, falls back to the earth; but never the fiber, for this
flows away of itself, while the body remains behind as a corpse.
X A PARADOX RESPECTING THE SIMPLE FIBER.

XI CONCERNING THE UNIVERSAL CIRCULATION OF THE
FLUIDS OF THE BODY, THAT IS, CONCERNING THE
CYCLE OF LIFE.
XI [a] CoNCERNING THE PERPETUAL RESOLUTION AND RECOM-
POSITION OF THE BLOOD.
XII CONCERNING DISEASES OF THE FIBER.
XIII CONCERNING THE DERIVATION OF THE DISEASES OF THE
ANIMUS INTO DISEASES OF THE BODY, AND VICE VERSA.
XIV CONCERNING THE ARACHNOID TUNIC.
* De Partihus Animalium n. 4, Fibre, nos. 279, 297.

and Meteor. IV. 10. See The
325
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
KEY TO PARAGRAPH NUMBERS

From n. 279 to 315, the paragraph numbers in the present edition
differ from those of the first edition, as follows:
Firsted. Presented. First ed. Presented.
279,280 279 300 291
281-87 280 301-2 292-93
288 281 303 - 294
289 282 304 - 295
290 283 305 296
291 284 306 297
292-93 285 307 298
294-95 286 308 299
296 287 309 300
297 288 310 301
298 289 311 302-3
299 290 313 - 304-13
CORRECTION OF LATIN TEXT

Page Line
7 7 auris non in
6b modificationum
3b volume a [for volumine]
8 10 spiralis
10 6 in vertice c
11 2b anfractuum
13 14b ; ita
14 after 18 [crossed off:] Hic est gyrus operationum mentis humanae
(percipere enim est fibrarum sensationes) sola enim
perceptio non aliquam voluntatem (determinat) for
mat, sed ansam dat et primam figuram edit, ut mellil
secundum potentiam suam rationaliter queat agere,
seu ex memoriae penu similas ideas depromere et in
. judicii formam adsciscere, formari enim debet voluntas
ut actio corporis composita correspondeat; aliter
15 9 autem aliqui ipsas v impugnent
16 12b se heic s
1b similiter,
17 9 timum, seu ad
18 animum
18 after 16b [crossed off:] Quod a sensibus externis seu corporeis in
struendi simus qualis sit mundus (circumfiuens) in
ferior, cujus ideam et usus partium nequaquam nisi
instructi capiamus
326
APPENDIX
Page Line
(Quod) Num ideae connatae sint, vel num omnes
acquisitae, muItis orbis saeculis controversum fuit;
qui ideas connatas asserunt pluribus documentis sen
tentiam suam firm ant; animalibus enim brutis omnes
suae ideae connatae sunt, et a prima exclusione in
pullis caeterisque animalibus se manifestant; ipsae
haec perceptiones ut actiones, quae sibi mutuo cor
respondent, iIlico urgent, et singula organa consistunt;
in genere autem humane similibus scientiis et artibus
instruendi sumus quae bruti naturaliter callent; sane
mechanici grandissimi esse debemus ut nidos quales
volucres exstruamus; attamen in nobis semina vir
tutum ac naturalis consensus veritatum, nisi mens
perversa sit videntur sateri; simul plum, quae ad
struere possunt, quod etiam ideae nobiscum con
nascantur, sed aliud est idea et aliud forma ideae,
et plurium inter se ordo et harmonia; ipsae ideae
condiscendae sunt, non autem ipsarum nexus mutuus
et ordo. Proinde mundus inferior qualis sit per sensus
nostros docebimur, imagines sunt totidem partes
mundi aspectabilis, nam quae in sensu interiore vocan
tur ideae, hae per fores sensuum sinuandae sunt, et
memoriae infigendae, ut depromi queant, dum mens
analysin quandam formare ingreditur
20 2 r non p
16b , quid sit
21 3 quod sit s
22 16 i puro.
25 16b medulloso
27 after 8b [crossed off:] Totum systema animale non constat nisi
ex fibris quae producunt vasa et cum his formas or
ganicas, id est, corpus; quicquid accidit fibris, id
secundum tenorem et continuatem earum fluxionis
Quicquid accidit fibrae id per continuam fibram
usque ad ejus originem flu it ; nam nulla datur fibm,
quae non exoritur e glandula quadam corticali,
28 8 c et m
30 3b , uterque e
31 4b p sinuum et
33 8b in vitulis c
34 3 et proinde f
35 3 quia objecta
36 5 ; inter sensus h
37 Ib c tanquam vi
327
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
Page Line
39 5 p uno d
13b a, aJiquam
41 lIb et influens
after lOb [crossed off:] Quod auris quae est organum recipiens
soni seu modificationum aeris se per propriam quand-
am vim et activitatem ad ilium recipiendum applicet
42 10, 11 f cerebrum. [The Author changed cerebri to cerebrum,
but forgot to croSB out partes.]
43 5b colore
44 15b r eflicit a
45 after 15 [crOSBed off:] Sensationum tam externarum quam in-
temarum causae in eo coincedunt quod consciat an-
ima, quicquid sibi convenit et disconvenit, et sic
quod corpus juvat vel laedet, mulcet et pungit, illud
placet hoc disp[l]icet, illis laetatur his contristatur sic
omnes sensus propter conservationem sui, et ex amore
sui. Ex contrariis cujusvis sensus ita compositis et
mixtis tam immensa sensationum varietas exoritur.
Quot radii tot vires quae impingunt et acute re-
tinam modificant
46 after iIIustrati 2b [crossed off:] producitur enim album per tra-
jectionem luminis per corpus.
49 lIb in vorticalem
52 12 ut in c
13b disharmonicum alIuit,
55 2 membranis illorum s
56 2 s sed a
57 lIb septum
58 2 innotescatur
12b quae ideae
9b alia
65 8b q tamen in
66 3 si hoc s
68 5b ill ustrare t
70 9 v intelIectio,
71 5 est hoc
15 intelIectu
72 12b producitur
5b s sui e
74 13 imaginatio[n]e
Ib eventus
84 6 singulae
87 12 harmoniis
90 9b sui corporis
328
APPENDIX
Page Line
93 8b venerei
7b ·ducitur
94 12b vibrationibu8
5b impotentia temporaria
103 after 9 [crossed off:] Ambitio non est ipse amor, nec amor 8ui,
l!ed est aliquid unitum amori, quod si separetur, amor
non foret activus; ambitio est quasi ardor aut vis
spiritualis testificandi amorem: adeo ut si amor sit
ipsa vita animi, vel mentis, ambitio est istius vitae
vis; ita amor est quasi vita animi et mentis.
107 18 clamamu8
109 15 societatem
16 societatem praesentam
17 nem futuram
111 13b et qui a
113 10, 11 fere universale
after 13 [crossed off:] Sed ipsa acquisitio et possessio utplurimum
in speciem avaritiae degeneratur, ipsa enim opum
aestimatio propter finem insinuat amorem, ut tandem
respiciantur, amentur et desiderentur ut ipse finis
114 15 se uniyersum n a partem [Each "ut" should be deleted. The
Author first wrote "reputat" (he reckons himself as
the universe, etc.) He then substituted the word
"credit" (he thinks himself the uniyerse," etc.) but
forgot to cross off "ut."
115 after charitatis, 7 [crossed off;] et respiciuntur opes ut quod
dam mutuum; est yirtus supereminens, sed tunc
yocatur contemptus, si respiciuntur ut totidem illece
brae irritamenta malorum, et causae deflectentes
mentem ab amoribus supremis ad inferiores
5b et qui u
123 8b yeritates
124 5 proxime
128 4 suffusus
136 after 10 [crossed off:] sunt inconstantes, et dicuntur corporeae et
materiales
136 18b simul mores [an uncertain reading] seu animus
137 after 15 [crossed off:]
Sed ut tarn yisualiter quam intellectualiter percipi
amUB quid animus sit, nusquam possumus per novam
philosophiam rationalem, tunc enim abstrahere de
bemus ideas ab subjectis, et ab ipsis ideis formare
aliquod subjectum, ex quo.
138 14, 13b etiam unum exhilerat et I c, alterum contristat
329
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
Page Line
138 after 8b [crossed off:] Sed quia cerebrum afficitur secundum
formam istam quam conficiunt sensoriolia, et secund
um ipsam formam quae est in ipsis sensoriolis, inquir
endum venit, unde animus suam essentiam trahit;
unus enim dissimiliter ab eadem forma seu harmonia
afficitur ac alter; ita qualis est correspondentia inter
formam cerebri
Est itaque animus sensorium seu perceptorium
formae seu qualitatis sensationum in se et inter se;
139 13 ir, incendit, et
after 16 [crossed off:] Mens vero est animus superior, seu ilIe
qui simili modo se habet in quolibet sensoriolo in
terno, id est, in glandula corticali, quo se habet ani
mus jam descriptus in sensorio communi seu extemo,
id est, in cerebro; quodlibet enim sensorium intem
um, est quoddam cerebrum in minima effigie, etiam
sua substantia corticali purissima et simplici, et sua
substantia meduIlari purissima, seu fibris· simplicibus
constans; ita discimus a cerebro quale est hoc cerebel
lulum, seu a sensorio communi seu extemo, quale sen
sorium particulare seu internum, consequenter ab an
imo qualis est mens.
Sed animus sensorii communis nequaquam potest
affici ita a solis harmoniis modorum alicujus sensus,
sicuti auditus,
Sed non adhuc exploratum est, quid sit animus
Est enim unaquaevis glandula corticaris sensoriolum
seu cerebellum in minima effigie, seu est exemplar
sensorii communis cui inest purissimus cortex et puris
sima medulla qualis cerebro; omnis sensatio visus im
mediate haec sensoriola afficit, et similiter per fibras
simplices usque ad simplicem ilIum corticem perrnicat
140 18 anatomicus
20 si nunc d
144 after 10 [crossed off:] Interim quia mens nostra rationalis est
quasi ex binis mentibus, scilicet ex mente animae et
mente corporis conflata (non proprie dici potest
proprius) non dici potest proprias affectiones pos
sidere, scilicet quae pure sint mentis rationalis, sed
omnes ejus affectiones sunt mixtae, scilicet quod sint
tarn spirituales quam naturales; apparent quidem
tanquam essent ejus propriae, ob causam quia earum
conscii redimur, attamen si illas intime contemplamur,
animadvertimus quod spirituale ita naturali vel nat
urale spirituali mixtum, ut quasi aIiud quasi ens
330
APPENDIX
Page Line
inde sit conflatum, quod istius mentis proprium dici
possit; quare etiam affectiones suis propriis nomin
ibus insignarentur
148 3 sad 0
150 11 corporei
22 flectimus
151 18b ita dari p
152 8b effectus
after 6b [crossed off:] Quod amor sciendi occulta insitus sit
mente humana ante formationem ejus intellectus,
fatebimur si ipsi nostram mentern inimus, amore
quodam ducemur
153 19 efficiens
155 after 1 [crossed off:] Non solum ducemur amore sciendi res
objectas, quae totidem sunt veritates sensu aliquo
baustae, hae sunt ideae nostrae memoriae; sed etiam
trahimur amore ab bis novas ideas
156 8 animum
160 3 q detur i
15 ctamur
3b summa
163 14, 13b inHuit, boc b
164 9b amittere
167 15 i vox v
19 ; nulla e
168 13b amittere
172 1 remittaretur
173 11 ipse finis
174 7 perpetui
175 12b corporis
lIb permanens
181 3b sed bic r
182 12b p omnium
184 4b futuris
186 7b sed non a
187 12 mens i
lIb in motum
192 12b Judas
196 7 aequus
9 scientia
5b plures v
201 12 scbirri
204 4b s illum e
205 17b q sint a. Swedenborg undoubtedly intended to write
quales sint amores intennedii
331
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
Page Line
207 6 , nee s
15 primis
208 16 possident
210 9 spes
212 15 coelestis
Ib alteriua
216 16 ,mo[r)bi c
219 6 emeritus, si
221 12 activum, et
223 13b nitioreque
12b r, spiciori
224 16 omnes formae
226 9b i, crescit
227 5b c, et illam in morbos et in mortem successive praecipitat.
229 after 13 [crossed off:] Haec spiritualis forma ab ipso numine est
inspirata et sic creata, ita ut suam essentiam a Deo
immediate trahat; quamvis per mutationem sui status
ita perversa sit
19 a non mortalis [for immortalis] s. p. se
230 18 attractivum
23 quid non a
lOb destruet
232 9 v, seu i
235 8b ex aequo
239 8b commota
240 17b lectoriorum
15b hoc v, r hoc 8
6b v, quae t
243 12b animorum
lOb unius
248 12 a sui;
17 m inanimatum, et
5b lactantur
249 6 in soli s
9 plenessimam et puram
12 0 unus t. (unus is crossed off by error)
15 d, r (cum belongs to a deleted word)
250 5 confundimur copia.
after 15h [crossed off:] Quod deus sit universi creator, rector et
provisor, sequitur
6b ad ultimum:
251 9 ultimus
253 4 v sontem i (l would read sanctam)
6b unius
5b alterius
332
INDEX*
·c.= cause. d. = defined.
ABRAHAM, 555. ulars, 65. Animus flows into
ABSTRACTION, need of, 508. A. S. and bl., 462. Effect of
ACTION, how detennined and car- disease of, 427.
ried out, 169. Goes from the ANIMUS. C. of ignorance con-
light to the heavy, 17. More im- cern., 283. D., 198, 284-99, 306,
portant than sensation, why, 12, 340. A. in womb is form of soul,
337,361. 463. Is (common, 463, (70)
ADAM, state of, 374. Fall of, 444; mind of pure intellectory, 343;
why pennitted, 533, 555. Hered- the nat. m. in each L, 305; first
ity from, 332. resides in p. L, 473. Golden
AFFECTION, 189. A's called loves, age of, 308. How fonned by
203; A. and I., dist., 379. C. of, will, 464, 466. Body, the image
199. A's enumerated, 200. De- of, 462--3, 465; influx of, into b.,
pends on state of cerebrum, 193. and vice versa, 4628. Flows into
A's or passions belong to ani- bl. and an. spir., 462. Is from
mus, 198-9, 284-90, 379; every both father and mother, 424.
A. has its a., 380. A's seen in Cupidity ascribed to, 300, In-
face, 462. A's of rat. mind, 315. stinct. Curiosity n a t u r a 1 to,
Spir. A's belong to soul, 430. 524. Why it can love, 430; l's of,
AFFffiMATIVE and negative belong not evil, 368. Can be changed
to rat. mind, 326. only by rat. mind, 472. C. of
AGES, Mind. diseases of, 426. Depression of,
ALGEBRA, Calculus. 219. Tranquillity of, 257.
AMBITION, 215s, 230, 254. ApPEARANCES, ill., 31.
ANALOGY, d., 176. ApPETITE, Love and. Orig. of, In
ANALYTIC, the only way of learn- embryo and infant, 318.
ing, 31; A. and synthetic way, ARISTOTLE, Pref., 511.
Pref., 382. ASTROLOGY, judicial, 321.
ANGEL, SpiT. W oTld. ATMOSPHERE. Air, ether, and su-
ANGER, 252; effect of, on body, 462. perior e., 16. Lower A's more
ANIMALCULES, 73, 282. compressed, 20. Ethereal nour-
ANIMALS. Have connate percep- ishment, 48, 502, Se n sat ion.
tion, 30; sense of location, 90; Modification of ether, spiral, 88.
imagination, 109, 113; speech, Purest aura called cel., 522; a's
58-9; instinct, 386. Soul of, 205. in spir. world, 532. Effluvia in,
ANIMAL SPffiIT and purer blood ex- 43.
pelled by motion of cortical AUGUSTUS OCTAVIUS, 211.
gland, 169. Marries bl. in jug- AVARICE, 233, 235, 245.
333
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
BILE, 462. Effect of anger (envy, Algebraic (analysis, 393) equa

267) on, 462. tion, 151, 566. Arithmetical and
BIRDS, 22. geometrical ratio, 438.
BIRTHM.ARKS, 523. CAMERA OBSCURA, 15.
BITTER, Sensation. CAROLI, THE, 211, 226.
BLOOD. Effect of temperament on, CATO, 211.
483. Animus flows into, 462. CHARITY,2385. Value of works of,
B. globule, 491. B. in cort. 375.

gland, 427. Why little B. left in CHERUBIM, 523.
dead, 488. Red B. must be dis CHRISTIANS, 511.
solved, 466. CICERO, 511.
BLUSHING, 262. CITY, Kingdom.
BODY. Why formed by soul, 12. CLEMENCY, 279.
The image of animus, 463. COGNITION and Knowledge, dist.,
BRAIN. A spiral form, 45. Dis 324.
eases of, 25. Effect of sadness COLORS, 513; c. of, 76, 101. C's of
on, 202. Interior sight resides in rainbow, 326.
(95) vertex, 122. Corpus stri COMPASSION,238.
atum, 45. Optic Thalamus, base CONJUGIAL LOVE descr., 207. How
of fornix, 81. Sinuses and an. insinuated, 209. C. hatred, 208.
spirit, 65. Simple Cortex, 124, Venereal L., 204-5; why so vehe
15~; is the intellectory, 125-6, ment, 447. Hatred of venery,
301; contains still finer sub 206, Cruelty. Div. Providence
stances, 294. Cortical gland, in marriages, 533; rn's foreor
how constructed, 13. Form of, dained in heaven, 558; why rn's
vortical, 21, 95. Harmonious between blood relations forbid
variety in, 20, 96. Expands and den, 533, 558. Spir. world.
contracts, 169, 201. Dependent CONNATE, Knowledge of order is,
on intellectory, 170. Is in light 22; also seeds of honor and vir
er region of body, 17. Blood tue, 338. Nothing C. in man
goes through, into fiber, 427. save perception, 30; Harmony.
Int, and ex, state of, 118. Is C. ideas in animals, why not in
little eye, 82, 95-6; sensory and man, 29n, Love.
motory, 169; why called com CONSCIENCE. T rue C. d., 328.
mon s., 197; the last of sensation Torments of, 544.
and first of action, 23. Disposes CORPOREAL and WorIdly, dist., 228.
itself for reception of visual rays, CORRESPONDENCE, 328. Nat C. d.,
85. Seat of imagination, 95 167; acquired C., 86, 161s; nat.
7, 117. Different in cerebrum, (98, 187) and ac. C. bet. imagina
cerebellum, and medullas, 20; tion and sight, 163; bet. thought
we are not conscious of changes and pure intellect, 165; bet. p.
in cortical gland of cbI. and rn's, into and soul, 166. C. and influx,
38, why, 19. dist., 139, 146, 155, lOOs, 471
CALCULUS, differential, 526. Cal. Doct. of C. unknown, 567.
of infinites, 142, 150, 357, 566. COURAGE, 24&.
334
INDEX
CRANIDM, effect of sound on, 62. patience, 260. Orig. of insanity,

CREATION, End in, 553s. 158, 427.
CRUELTY, 2768, 448. Excites or DISSIMULATION,. 408s. Art of, 420.
gans of generation, 278. DIVINE GRACE, d., 472, 476.
CUNNING, d., 412. DocTRINES, New, necessary, Pref.
CUPIDITY, d., 29. C. and desire, D. of Correspondences unknown,
dist., 300, Love. 567.
CURIOSITY, d., 311. Orig. of, 311. DoUBT. Nothing to be done in
Natural to animus, 524. state of, 336.
DAVUS, 134. DREAMS, 92, 321, Interpretation of,
DEATH, 486s, d., 488-9. Why nec 32l.
essary, 496-7. Soul the c. of, DRUNKENNESS, 120.
509; why, 522. What dies, 284, EDUCATION,425.
494--5,506,525. Papillae of taste ELATER, d., 240. E. of nature, 25.
recede in, why, 39. Soul alone ELECTION, Predestination.
then lives as a spirit, 349; state EMBRYO, 494, 508. E. and infant,
of s. in process of D., 513, 516s; appetite in, 318.
in apparent D., 505, 512. D. and ENDS must be regarded, 383s;
dissolution, dist., 492. The dead nature then follows, 386. K and
not to be desecrated, 512, Ghosts. wiII, 390.
The soul can appear on earth ENLIGHTENMENT, Swedenborg.
after D., 523. Spir. D., 451, 504. ENVY, d., 440. Effect on body,
DECORUM, d., 333-4. 462. Individual and gen. K,
DEGREES, 566. 267. DeviI's E., 44l.
DESCARTES, 167. EQUILIDRIUM cor. to equity, 418.
DESIRES, d., 29. How caused, 29, EQUITY, d., 418.
194. May be contradictory, 195. EREBUS, 208, 548.
Cupidity and, dist., 300, Love. EROSTRATUS, 226n.
DESPAIR, 224. EVIL, orig. of, 555. Why permit
DETERMINATION, d., 169, 394. D's ted, 555. Pure K not possible
are substances by which a new in rat. mind, 387. The E. can
s. is formed, 175--Q. acknowledge truths, 323.
DEVIL, 328. A rebel, 555. Knows FAITH, 238. Necessity of, 371-2,
truth but hates it, 454. Why 475.
given power, 448, 533. Use of, FANTASIES, 149n.
406. Effect of harmonies on, FATE, 561; follows every one, 557.
193. Not to be hated, 436. Bat FEAR. The evil have, 454, 547,
tle bet. God and, 474. D's (envy, Effect on body, 241. F. and
441) conscience, 328. Last judg shame, dist., 263.
ment. FillER. Form of fluxion of, 16.
DIANA, Temple of, 226. Near cortex, F's are fluid, 17.
DISEASES. D's of brain, 25. Ef Sensory and motory, soft and
fect of, on mind, 427, 471; on hard, why, 17. Simple F. origi
sensories, 471; on animus, 466s, nates in intellectory, 174, 464;
471; cured by furies of a., 466; by s. F's are rays of pure intellect,
335
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
154. Vessels emulous of F., d., duced, 183; are forces, 27; effect
18. Corporeal F., orig. of, 37; of, 28; e. of, on senses, 191-2.
nourishment by, 48; why man Perception of, connate, 22, 30,
not conscious of n., 48. Mem 564-5. H. of atmospheric world
brane bet. cerebral F's, why, 18. and an. kingdom, dist., 186.
FOLLY, 232. Mainly contributes to formation
FOOT. Why soles sensitive, 37. of intellect, 55. Coestablished
FORM, d., 6. How constituted, 175. H, Soul. Harmonic variety, d.,
Quality of, known from Har 20, 535, 536. Musical H., 51.
mony, 176. Perfection of, con HATRED, 214. Zeal in, 454. Human
sists in ability to change state, H. may surpass diabolical, 448,
180-1, 357. Elevation of F's, Love.
498-9. F's (in body, 486) enu HEAVEN, Spir. World.
merated, 178. Higher F's con HELL, Spir. World.
tain lower, 565; 1. cannot de HEREDITY, c. of, 220, 423, 425.
stroy h., 501s. Angular F's dis From father and mother, dist.,
pleasing to taste, 34. Essence of 424. Inherited characteristics,
spir. F. is immediately from 477s. Likeness of children to
God, 500. Figure, d., 465. grandfathers, 209; ch. suffer for
FREEDOM, Liberty.
crimes of parents, 478. Good
FRIENDSHIP, Love. inclinations inherited, 338.
FRUGALITY, 281.
HEROES, 211.
FURIES, 208, 545, 548.
HONOR, d., 333--4. Principles of,
GENEROSITY, 227-8.
vary, 266. Seeds of, connate,
GENIUS, d., 147, 340. Orig. of, 121,
479, 480. An ignorant man may 338.
be a G., 420, 425. G. of the age, HOPE, 223, 321. One of the three
412, In(Jenuity. spir. virtues, 223.
GEOMANCY, 321. HORACE, 467n.
GHOSTS. Do shades appear after HORATIUS, 211.
death? 518. HUMILITY, 219s.
GLADNESS, 201. IDEAS, d., 93, 103, 190, 357. 1's of
GOD. Things not possible for, 555. soul, pure intellect, memory, im
Jesus Christ, 539. Messiah, 406. agination and hearing, d'ist., 138;
Why G. desires glory, 219. of im. (85, 103) and m., 110;
GOOD, d., 331. The highest G., 329. of m., d., 11; of im. and thought
GOVERNMENT in heaven, 539-40. (d., 142, 145) and m., 357; of
Perfect form of, 535, 554. th., 142. Rational (intellectual,
GRACE, Prayer. 55-6) 1's, d., 147; r. and material
GUSTAVl, 211, 226. 1's, 91, 357. 1's taken from
HABIT,395. words by nat. and acquired cor
HAPPINESS must be the H. of respondence, 161-2. I. and form
many, 435. of 1., dist., 29n, 134, cf. 129.
HARMONY, a nat. word, love a spir., Connate I's. I's and languages,
207. H., d., 175-6. H's, how pro 153.
336
INDEX
IMAGINATION, d., 72, 92, 113, 141. of, doubted, why, 136; evidence
Quality of, 111. How sight be of its e., 129. Soul can flow into
comes 1., 86, 163; compared with body only through, 476. Simple
ex. B., 94, 98. Parts of, d., 103. fibers spring from, 174, 464; are
Ideas of. How produced, 86, rays of, 154. Is mediate bet.
102. Cortical gland, the Beat of, spir. intelligence of soul and
95, 117. Intellect depends on, thought of rat. mind, 136. Same
156. Necessary for thought, 140; in infant as in adult, 134, 525.
1. and t., dist., 140s, 145. Perfec Seat of, is simple cortex, 1, 3,124
tion of, 115, 164. Why stronger 5, 139, 152. In each cort. gl., 466.
when eyes closed, 104. 1. and Necessity of, 126. Office of,
j u d g men t dist., 147. 1. and 126, 382, 387; o. of, in venery,
memory. 1. in animals, 109, 113. 205. Quality and operations of,
IMMORTALITY, 498s. Why soul im 131s. Determinations of, 130. Ex
mortal, 498, 500. C. of doubt pre~s itself by simulacra, 135.
concerning 452. Never changes, but perceives c's
IMPATIENCE, 261.
(293) and (consents, 158) con
IMPETUOSITY,246.
curs, 155; why its concurrence
INCLINATION, d., 477B. Orig. of,
necessary, 170. How state of,
121. changed by rat. mind, 469. Rules
INDIGNATION, d., 256. in absence of will, 171, 173.
INFANTS are spir. only, 313. Orig. Learns to understand meaning
of appetite in, 318. Love to of words, 165. Conjugial love
know the occult, 318n. affects, 207. How to approach
INFLUX, Correspondence. ne are r to, 154. Flows into
INGENUITY and judgment, dist., thought, 139, how, 153. Dies
147, Genius. with body, 495. Animus is mind
INSANITY, Diseases. of. Human intellect d., 316,
INSECTS, sight of, more perfect 357, 392, 420. None in Embryo,
than in animals, 73. Spiders, 22. 494. Commands the will, 411.
Silkworm, 522. Caterpillar, 509. Is impure, 156. Progress of, 147.
Animalcules. How perfected, 154-5. A mixed
INSTINCT in man, d., 171, 300, 384. 1., 32, 136; requires truth and
Is from superior mind, 300; s. m. falsity, 157. Depends on imagi
has 1., animus has cupidity, 300. nation, 156. Intellection d., 24,
Animal I., 386. 148. How it passes into will,
INTELLECT. Pure I., Intellectory, 24-5. Intelligence, d., 420; all
123B, d., 357; and imagination, men born to, but not to wisdom,
111. Is from the father, 424, 423; i. is acquired, not w., 324.
479-80. A more sublime mind, INTEMPERANCE, 280. Spir. 1., 280.
298; the first ens and form of JUDAS ISCARIOT, 406.
nature, 137; first (f., 463) effigy JUDGMENT d., 24, 147, ISO, 360.
of soul, 137; body of s., 316. Is How matured, 154. J. and in
subordinate to pure mind, 382. genuity, dist., 147. J. and
How formed, 128, 137. Existence Thought.
337
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
JUSTICE, 415s. the beginning of reason, 322; is

KINGDOM OF GOD, 537; d., 455, 538. connate, 323. Of understanding,
Chosen from all religions, 538. connate, 318. Of knowing (hid
City of God, d., 455. den things, 319) the future, 321;
KNOWLEDGE, Cognition.
is connate,. 321; c. of, 311. Of
LANGUAGES, 153.
propagating King. of God, 447s,
LAST JUDGMENT, 495, 546--7. After
455. Of society and country,
L. J., Devil will hate immortal 2105, 438-9. Of neighbor, 434s,
ity,452. Conflagration of world, 438, 460. Of friends, 213, 434s.
512; effect of, 495. Of offspring, 209. Of being close
LAUGHTER, 22, d., 201; c. of, 22.
to the loved one, 440-1. Of sur
LAW, why necessary, 415s.
passing, 442s. Of posthumous
LEIDNITZ, 167n.
fame, 225. Of immortality. 451
LmERALITY, d., 237.
2. Of one's body (449-50) and
LmERTY, 237; d., 358-9, 365--8. Es
world, 227. Of solitude, 275.
sence of, 354. Classes of, 360 Of self, 215; (orig. and, 28-9)
4. Four (causes for, 377) stages use of, 33. Conjugial.
of, 372. L. of will, orig. of, 397 LoVEIlS' QUARRELS, 208.
8. No purely nat. L., ill., 370. LUXURY, 280.
No spir. L. in rat. mind, 371; MAGNANIMITY, 229s, 244.
freedom, the highest delight of MAGNETIC FORCE, 502. Spir. mag
m., 207. F I' e e determination, netism, 518.
disputes concerning, 351; per MALICE, d., 413.
mission of soul necessary for, MAN, d., 344. Consists merely of
172. Necessity of, 352-3, 556. soul and body, all else partakes
Why given man, 377, 533. De of both, 302. Int. and ex. M.,
pendent on (is according to, 30) d., 350. Is good naturally, 459.
intellect, 356, 366; is limited, MARRIAGE, Conjugial Love.
556. How restricted, 557. Li MATHESIS, Universal, 131, 562s.
cense d., 355. MEDITATION,367. M. and Thought.
LOCATION, sense of, 90. MELANCHOLY, 482.
LoCKE,562. MEMORY, d., 106, 144. How culti
LoVE, a spir. word, harmony a vated, 107. Ideas of. Aft e I'
nat., 207; d., 315, 379. L's in death, 514, 530. Imagination a
general, d., 203, Cupidity. Every part of, 85; M. and im., not pos
L. has its special mind, 379-80. sible without pure intellectory,
Spir. L's, 429s. Superior and 111-2; are inseparable, 110; c. of
inf. L's., Mind. Div. L., 460. diversity of, 119. Connate in
L., desire, cupidity, appetite, animals, 109.
dist., 196; L., c., pleasure, dist., MILK. Why suitable for infants,
228. Corporeal L's are from 318.
spir. L's, 457-8. Loves and Hat MIND. Superior M., d., 298s, 316.
reds of a superior Being, 432-3. The first love of, 305--8. Spir.
Of virtue, 333. Of good and M., d., 341. Has instinct, while
truth, dist., 324. Of truths, is animus has cupidities, 300; why
338
INDEX
supreme M. and a. necessary, MUCIUS, 211.

313; s. M. desires end, a. desires MUSICAL instruments, 66. M. har
effect, 309. Rat. M., d., 288n, monY,5I.
291s, 316, 342, 345, 348, 350, 384. NATURE excels art, 74. Is subject
Called human intellectory, 302. to spir. mind, 464. Ab h 0 r s
Four ages of, 312. Office of: equality, 558.
384--5. Thought to be the soul, NERVES. Motor N's. of senses,
296. Not properly the M., 297. from cerebellum, sensory N's.
Cannot penetrate into intelli from cerebrum, 61. Olfactory,
gence of soul, 332. Why called 18, 43; mammillary processes in
Rat., 347. Why given to man, men and animals, 45. Optic, 2,
302; is the m., 349. Is spir., 18, 68; change of state in, caused
while animus is nat., 295. Be by sight, 80; goes to whole cer.,
gins (with thought, 307-8) after 81. Fifth pair, the universal N.
birth, how, 307-8. Effigied in of sense, 42. Seventh pair, sen
body, 410. Must be under in sory and motory, 42; orig. and
tellect, 382. Good and evil M's use of soft and hard portions,
are equally spiritual, 431. All 67; facial N., 67n. Eighth pair,
loves concentrated in, 459. Is masticating N., 42; auditory N.,
like a balance, 228, 369-70, be 18, why runs near jugular vein,
tween (two loves, 300s, 326) su 65. Ninth pair, speaking N., 42.
preme M. and animus, 296-7, Intercostal and Vagus, 42.
299; shown by conscience, 328; N ESTOR, Pref.
influx of, into a., and vice versa, NURSES, 424.
470s. How loves are insinuated OEDIPUS, 134.
into, 309; I's rule in, 315; has OLD, THE, are tenacious of opinion,
no I. of its own, 299, 317, 338. 323.
Has desires, 300, 339. Its only PARROT, 344.
property is its ability to (judge, PARSIMONY, 281.
325, 327) turn to one love or the PASSIONS are affections, 198.
other, 302; in this only is it ac PATIENCE, 257s.
tive, 311; herein is its freedom, PERCEPTION, d., 105. Organic sub
327. Is free, 352, 366-7; no spir. stance of, 3. The only connate
liberty in, 371. Has its own dis thing in man, 30. Transferred
tinct loves, 301. How it can be to thought, how, 26. P. and will
changed, 471. Must return to are like passion and action, 25.
infancy, 373. Causes perfecting PERIPATETIC SCHOOL, 30, 129.
or perverting it, 422s. Presence PHILOSOPHERS by birth, d., 420.
of, 249. Intoxication of, 21. PHYSICAL INFLUX, Soul.
Dissolved by death, 494, 506. PHYSIOGNOMY, 321.
MISANTHROPY, 273-4. PIETY, 478.
MISERS, 245, 246. PLANTS. Resuscitation of, 517.
MODIFICATION, d., 182, 185. When PLATO, Pref., 511, 548.
becomes sensation, 10. PLEASURE, a force, 27, Love.
MONKEY, 344. PLUTUS. 235.
339
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
PORES receive ethereal aliment, 48. SENSATION. Depends on pure in-

PRAYER,367. Necessity of P. (372, tellect, 126. Degrees of, descr.,
472) and the grace of God (472) 8. Int., inmost, and inmost of
444; of public worship, 372. all, organs of, 1; the ex. com-
PREDESTINATION, 561. Some born municate with the int., 2; c's of
for wisdom, some for insanity, into and ex. S., 33, 71n. Is a
423. Election of souls, 475, 559. modification of substance, 6;
PREESTABLISHED HARMONY, Soul. how, 15-6, 187. We are con-
PRESENCE OF MIND, 147. scious of S. (especially sight, 19)
PRIDE, 215s; effect of, on body, only in cerebral cortex, 38, 152;
462. S's go to entire c., 18, 21; from
PRODIGALITY, 237. heavy atmosphere to light, 17,
PROVIDENCE, Divine, 549s. Is uni- 38. Most distinct in crown, 19.
versal and singular, 559. Princi- Effected 801 e I y by touch, 9.
pally rules in distinguishing in- Soul alone sensates. Why nec-
dividuals, 534, 558; in preserving essary, 29n. Demands harmony
man's freedom, 377. and disharmony, 22. When S.
PRUDENCE, Human, 405s, 561. is passive, 11. C. of pleasure in,
PUSILANIMITY, 232. 22. Compared with idea, imagi-
PYTHAGORAS, 511, 548. pythagorian nation, and thought, 293. Ef-
School, 30, 129; P. Arithmetic, fect of diseases on sensory; S.
321. dependent on (simple cortex,
RAINBOW, 326. 118) intellectory, 126; every S.
RATIOCINATION, 147. organ must have sensory and
REGENERATION, 372-3, 375, 472. motor nerves, 61, and both cere-
RELIGION, a restraint, 557, Prayer. brum and cerebel. rule in, 61.
Necessity of, 166. SENSES mislead, Pref.; are very
REVELATION, necessity of, 475. dull, 31. Why man lacks Sense
REVENGE, 270-2. Delight of, is of location, 90. Touch, 35s.
cruelty, 323; c. in all R., 277. Due to cortex in cerebrum and
RIDLEY, 42. medullas, 37. Taste, 39s. Papil-
ROMAN EMPIRE, 211. Rome, 525. lae of, imbibe food, 39; recede in
SACRED SCRIPTURE, 340, 511-2, 555. death, why, 39. Why salt and
Revealed truth, 475; what heaven bitter things pleasant, 34. T.
is, is now r., 560. and touch affect cortex mediate-
SADNESS, 202. ly and immediately, 38. Smell,
SAINTS, bones of, 512. 43s. Affects whole cer., 45-6.
SALT, Taste. Compared to touch and taste,
SAMUEL, 512. 47; t. ta., and S., compared to
SCALES, Mind. hearing (54) and sight, 44. S. in
SCHISMS, 533, 558. man and animals compared, 48.
SCIENCE, use of, Pref. S., intelli- Hearing, 49s. Clarifies brain
gence, wisdom, 419s; cf. 477s. S. and body, how. 65. Impossible
of S's, 563. Knowledge d., 324. without a general sound, 66; ear
SCIPIO, 211. applies itself to s., 15, 59n; why
340
INDEX
e. in petrous bone, 65, nerves,. ly in the embryo as in the adult,

parts of e., 49, 50. H. an in- 508 ; the true mind of the in-
ferior sense to Sight, 56; how tellectory, 294; communication
it passes over to S., 57. Hearing with pure i., 166; concurs w. p. i.
and S., effect of, on cerebrum by permitting, 172-3. Compared
compared, 163. Sight, 6&, d., to light, 32. Knows future, 321.
101. Rays of light are so many Loves of, 429s; God alone can
touches, 75; diffused to whole judge as to l's of, 459; influx of
cerebrum, 163; change state of l's of, into rat. mind, 476. State
cort. gl., 83--4, 97; spiral form of, known only to God, 400;
of, becomes vortical in cort. gl., G. alone judges harmonies of
88. How S.· is produced, 99, 161. spir. truths of, 193. Is immortal,
Eye constructed for ether, 69; SOL Ideas of. Why descends
parts of, 68; adapts itself to re- into world, 12, 487, 494-5. How
ception of objects, 15, how, 78; S. forms her instruments, 13.
general, specific, and particular Why formed eye, 70. Afone sen-
change of state of, 79; sense of sates, 3, 5, 8, 12, 174, 508;
e. obscure, 71-2. No S. without understands the sensations, 31.
a general light, 77. S. and im- Conscious of (concurs with, 32;
agination compared, 94; S. be- permits, 172) sensations, 32, 33.
comes imago by nat. and ac- S. and not we, is sensitive to
quired correspondence, 163. S. changes of state, 38. Perceives
of insects. harmonies, why, 22; delights in
SERAPHIM, 523. h's, why, 9. Disposes organs to
SHAME, 262s. receive ethereal aliment, 48.
SILKWORM, Insects. Influx of, into animus, and v. v.,
SIMILE, d., ll1n. 473s. No liberty in, while in
SIMULACRA, 135. body, 400. Cannot teach man,
SIMULATION, 408s. why, 369. Cannot impress sign
SINCERITY, 414. on rat. mind, 507; nor change its
SLEEP, 25. Intellectory rules in, s tat e, 531; st. of, may be
171. Sensory relaxed in, 5. changed by rat. m., 475. Divine
SNEEZING, 46. and diabolic S's, 328, 423, 527,
SOCIETY, A perfect, d., 535s. 528; evil S's, 475; contract their
SOCRATES, 511. nature on earth, 496, 528; can-
SoMNAMBULISTS, 113, 140, 172. not change aft er death, Spir.
SoPHI,511. World. Loves flow into mind
SoRCERY, 222. from evil S's, 376. Commerce
SoUL. How to be sought, Pref. of S. and body, 159s. Is by
A spir. (and cel., 12) form, 127, nat. correspondence, 167; by co-
423, 431, above nature, 13; with- established harmony, 146, cf.,
out extension or parts, 498. A 179. Three hypotheses, 167. C.
simple (formative, 13) substance bet. S. and action, 168.
containing life, 294. Is pure in- SOUND, not discernible without ac-
telligence, 8, 137, 526, 529; equal- companying gen. S., 51, 66. Har-
341
RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY
mony of, 52; why not the same SWEDENBORG. Why wrote work,
to all men, 53. Differences of, Pref. His choice of words, 431.
how produced, 50. Vibrates In profound meditation, 367.
every part of cerebrum, cerebel., Expresses doubt, 165n. Acknowl
and medullas, 62-3; but only edges has only obscure idea, 159.
generally, 63. Wishes a writing to be emended,
SPEECH, 116, 401s. A n gel i cS., 236. Why defers treatment of
Spir. World. Children's prattle, w i I I, 151. Enlightenment "I
140. S. of Animals. know not whence," 154, cf. 564.
SPIDER, Insects. Grants, but does not admit, that
SPIRITUAL. Good and evil minds shades appear after death, 518.
are all S., 431. Experiences effects of explosions,
SPIRITUAL WORLD. Auras in, 532. 50. Works quoted: Cerebrum,
Why no spirits born such, 555. Pref., 42. Ec. of An. K. 11, 20n.
State of (form of, 521s) soul in, Fibre, 20n, 25n, 36, 42n; 16, 18;
511s; body of s., a cel. f., 524. 36, 125, 130n,. 286n, 95; 486.
Communication bet. souls in, Influx 167n. Harmony bet. S.
532. The nature of Heaven re and B., 167n. Hieroglyphic Key,
vealed, 533s, 560. Is one body 567. A Phil. N. B., Pref., 296n,
whose soul is God, 449. Formed 321n, 382n, 386n, 420n; 283n;
of many H's, 537. Distinction 511n; 130n; 548n. Lost work on
of souls necessary for, 534s; not Providence, 561n. Psychologica,
possible without d., 539. Mar 111n.
riage in, 207. Government in. SYMPATHY, communication of, 518,
Happiness of, 541; increases w. 532-3.
numbers, 438, 542. Angels have SYNONYMS, 381.
intuition wit h 0 u t reasoning TANTALUS, 548.
(Locke), 562; one a. can put a TEMPERAMENTS, 482s.
thousand evil spirits to flight, TEMPERANCE, 281.
454, 547. Angelic speech, 55, TEMPTATIONS, 375.
563. Hell, 543s. Necessity of, THOUGHT, d., 149, 357. Life of
457. Torments of, 441, 544; de soul flows into, 506. Influx of
scr'd by ancients, 548. Prince pure intellect into, 139; by nat.
of, 545. H. on earth, 208. After and acquired correspondence,
death, state of souls cannot 165; not possible without p. i.,
change, 326, 504, 531, 544; why, 146. How carried on, 152. T.,
528. Last judgment. perception, meditation, dist., 149.
STANLEY, History of Philosophy, T., judgment, conclusion, dist.,
321n. 388. T. and imagination, dist.,
STATE, d., 179. Change of, d., 182; 140s, 145; no T. without i., 140.
power to c. is perfection of form, Abstract T., 505.
152, 180; simultaneous and suc TICKLING, Laughter.
cessive c's, d., 184. TRUTH cor. to order in nature, 323.
STORGE, 203, 209. The highest T., 330. Abstract
STYX,548. T., 153. Transcendental T's d.,
342
INDEX
30. Universal T's, 324. Nat.T's stroys, 171. W. and its liberty,
apprehended at once, 22. 378s. Operations of, 391s. Phy-
UNIVERSAL and Singular, d., 551n. sical c. of 396. Classes of, 399.
VARIETY, Nature abhors equality, W. and perception.
558, Harmony. WILLIS, 45n.
VENERY, Conjugial Love. WISDOM, d., 421. Cannot be ac-
VIRTUE d., 338. and vice, 335s. quired, 324. All men not born
Love of, is property of superior to, 423. Scientific W., 324, Sci-
mind, 338; how it can be as- ence.
cribed to man, 339. Seeds of, WONDER, orig. of, 320.
connate, 338.
WORDS are seen, 87, 91. W's, im-
WEALTH, love of, 234, 237. Con-
tempt of, 237. agination, perception, 91. How
WILL, d., 24, 25, 151, 388s, 402. changed to ideas, 161-2.
W. and perception, like action WORLDLY and Corporeal, diat., 228.
and passion, are inseparable, 25- WORSHIP, Prayer.
6. W. and intellect, dist., 3818, ZEAL, 253. Ambition and, 252.
388, 397; i. restores what W. de- Spir. Z'o 453-4.
343

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RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY

Translated from the Latin by

NORBERT H. ROGERS and ALFRED ACTON

Edited by ALPRED ACTON

Swedenborg Scientific Association

LANCASTER PRESS, INC., LANCASTER, PENN....

INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR

The work was used as a textbook in the College of The

came later to be bound in with the volume because the last

1. The Body in General.

The parts printed in bold type were an written by Sweden­

I SENSATION OR THE PASSION OF THE BODy . 1

VII PERCEPTION, IMAGINATION, MEMORY, AND

VIII THE PuRE INTELLECT 123

IX THE HUMAN INTELLECT: Intellection, Thought,

Reasoning, and Judgment 140

X THE COMMERCE OF SOUL AND BODY 159

XI HARMONIES AND THE AFFECTIONS ARISING

THEREFROM. DESIRES IN GENERAL 175

XII THE ANIMUS AND ITS AFFECTIONS 197

Loves in General 203

Venereal Love 204

Hatred and Loathing of Venery 206

Conjugial Love 207

Conjugial Hatred 208

Love of Parents toward Their Children, or Storge 209

Love of Society and Country 210

Love toward Companions and Friendship 213

Love of Self, Ambition, Pride, Arrogance 215

Humility, Contempt [of Self), Depression

of Animus ............•................... 219

Hope* and Despair .... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 223

Love of the Immortality of Fame after Death. . .. 225

Generosity, Magnanimity. What the Loves of the

World and the Body are 227

Pusillanimity and Folly 232

Prodigality, Liberality, Contempt of Wealth 237

Compassion, Charity 238

Fear and Dread 241

Courage, Fearlessness, Impetuosity 246

Indignation, t Anger, Fury, Zeal 252

Patience, Meekness, Tranquillity of Animus,

Misanthropy, Love of Solitude '" 273

Intemperance, Luxury 280

Temperance, Parsimony, Frugality 281

XIII THE ANIMUS AND THE RATIONAL MIND ••...•.... 282

XIV THE FORMATION AND AFFECTIONS OF THE

RATIONAL MIND ............•..............•. 298

XV THE LoVES AND AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND) ....•• 315

Love of Understanding and Being Wise 318

Love of Knowing Things Hidden; Wonder 319

Love of Foreknowing the Future 321

Love of Truths and Principles 322

Love of Good and Evil 324

The Affirmative and Negative 326

The Highest Good and Highest Truth 329

Love of Virtues and Vices; Honor, Decorum 333

XVI CONCLUSION AS TO WHAT THE ANIMUS IS, WHAT THE

SPIRITUAL MIND AND WHAT THE RATIONAL MIND 340

t Indignation is a.n affection of the ra.tional mind; see n. 256.

XVII FREE DECISION, OR THE CHOICE OF MORAL

XVIII THE WILL AND ITS LIBERTY, AND WHAT THE

XXI SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION 408

The parts printed in bold type were an written by Sweden

understands. Consequently, the soul, when it sensates, is pas

are harmed. The reason is because the soul is pure intelli

sensations, or arouses the first of perception even to its ulti

that is to say, in its corresponding gland. From there, follow

pens to the fibers flows by a con

to a knowledge of that world; also that thus and not other

visible, contains an infinity of parts; besides many other ex

is, that there is no difference in any object that is not per

numerable states, both universal and also special and indi