A Philosophical DISCOURSE Concerning SPEECH, Conformable to the CARTESIAN PRINCIPLES.  
Dedicated to The Most Christian King.  
Englished out of French.  
In the SAVOY, ●●●nted for John Martin, Printer to the Royal Society, and are to be sold at the Bell, a little without Temple-Bar, 166●.   

TO THE KING.  
SIR,  
THis Discourse is the sequel of some others, that have already appeared in public, under the August Name of Your MAJESTY. I thought I was obliged to offer unto You the First part of this Work, forasmuch as having proposed to myself at the beginning, to give each man to consider, what He is, me thought, that Your MAJESTY should find in this consideration more pleasure than all other Men. I have the same reasons to present this also to You, where I treat no more of the Knowledge of ourselves, but of the Means to know othoes, and to be known by them. I show, that this Means is SPEECH; I explain all the Effects thereof, and the better to discover the Causes, I carefully inquire into all, it borrows from the Body or the Soul. These Causes, SIR, are so excellent in Your MAJESTY, that You will doubtless have an incredible satisfaction to examine them: Above all things I am persuaded, You will find more of it than any Man, when you shall consider its Effects. You will see, it is Speech, which produceth what Your MAJESTY loveth most, I mean, Glory, and you'll acknowledge, that to it you own that Lustre, which maketh Your MAJESTY outshine all the Powers of the Earth. 'Tis by it, SIR, that You express those Generous Thoughts, which all tend to our Felicity; and 'tis by the same, that you have achieved those great things, which make all Nations say, that You are the Greatest Prince that ever was.  
I know, SIR, that men admire no less in Your MAJESTY the Faculty you have to be silent, than the Facility to speak: I know, I say, that the Prudence you have to be silent, is one of the reasons, which make others speak so much of You. But I remember very well, that Secrecy, how  soever it is to great Desseins, cannot alone make them succeed, and that, however Your MAJESTY hath advantageously used it in all the Contrivances you have made for our Happiness, you would never have obtained the Execution thereof, if you had not employed Speech; it was necessary, Orders should be given for that. Indeed, SIR, you know how to give them as becomes a Prince, who needs none but himself to contrive and to resolve. You alone know, why you give them, and those that receive them, often not know the excellent End, Your MAJESTY proposeth to yourself, but at the moment, which makes them successful.  
How amiable is Glory, when a Man thus owes it entirely to himself! And how pure & sincere doth that of Your MAJESTY appear to me? Others, who have only Power for their Portion, here themselves praised for a thousand Events, wherein their Conduct had no part: Words are always found for them. But all the Actions of Your MAJESTY, are so much above what can be said of them, that those to whom Praise costs least, complain they can find none to express them. Such an one hath demanded Ten years to write, what we have seen You do in Ten days: And another that knows, it requires less pains to compare Hero's with one another, than to write their Praise, hath endeavoured to find like ones to Your MAJESTY, but could meet with none among all those, whom Antiquity hath left recorded. Indeed, SIR, none of them are known, whose Passions have not guided all their Enterprises: the world hath seen him, whom past Ages have most boasted of, to follow nothing but the motions of his Ambition, and, without at all considering the tranquillity of his Subjects, to carry the trouble into whole Asia; whereas, SIR, all Europe hath seen You, young and victorious, showing favour to your Enemies, that you might give Peace to your people: And it seethe at this very time, that Your Majesty covets not a great Country exposed to your Conquests, but desires only what of right you can pretend to. This moderation, SIR, is the greatest Virtue of Kings, and especially is it admirable in a Prince vigilant enough to surprise the Enemy in a season, when the most ardent Spirits for war, do quit that painful exercise; and brave enough to execute himself, what the boldest durst not advise. What Mortals, SIR, could have stopped Your Majesty, accomplished with these Excellencies, if the Right of Bienseance could have tempted you? But your Neighbours were to assure themselves afresh, 'tis not Ambition that hath armed you; 'tis from the hands of Justice, you hold that sword, which subjects the Provinces in less time, than needs to march through them, Brabant and Henaut may give testimony hereof to the rest of the World. Your Majesty hath made them know your Right, because you let them feel the force of your Arms; and 'tis known, that their Revolt is the only cause of those great Exploits, which History will never be able sufficiently to celebrate, and for which Poesy itself, which boasts to speak like the Gods, confesses to want expressions. But Sir, though Poesy cannot express the surprising effects of your Courage, take it in good part, that Philosophy does rebuke the Excess of it, and that with her usual liberty she reproaches you for having exposed your Sacred Person like that of a Common Soldier. This reproach would make up the Glory of every other Prince; but Sir, how could any man have excused You to posterity, if that Great Heart, which is not given you but to sustain the Destiny of France, had made you be cast away in this occasion? One cannot praise enough this ardour, which maketh you quit pleasures in the midst of Winter; but how noble soever it be, it is to be blamed, when it makes you seek dangers, and when it exposeth, against rebellious Subjects, a life so precious to so many other faithful ones. Be pleased, Sir, to hearken to that zeal, which speaks to you; It hath always loved Kings, it hath never flattered them, and as it knows none greater than Yourself, it cannot at that time, when it intends to discourse of SPEECH, make better use of it for the good of the Universe, than to tell what you own to your own Preservation.  
I shall add, Sir, that the same being to declare itself upon this Subject by the mouth of a Man, it could not choose any one, whose Zeal were equal to mine. I am  
SIR, Of Your Majesty The most humble, most obedient, and most faithful Servant and Subject, CORDEMOY.   

The Preface.  
I Proposed in the Six Discourses, which preceded this, 
* Published A. 1666. under the Title, Le discernement du Corpse & de l' Am; of which see Phil. Trans. No. 17. p. 306.  the means to know Ourselves, & made it manifest, that it only consisted in discerning in us the Operations of the Soul, and those of the Body. Now I propose the means of knowing Others, and that is SPEECH. I explain as far as I am able, What it is; and poursuant to my first dessein, I endeavour in this Discourse exactly to distinguish what it borrows of the Soul, from what it holds of the Body.  
I. To begin this Inquiry with the more certainty, I do not reason but upon what I have found within myself in the Sixth Discourse of the lately mentioned Book; and as if I had never yet been assured, there were other Men besides myself, I stay in the very beginning upon this Consideration, viz. Whether it be necessary, that all the Bodies, which I see to be like mine, be united to Souls like mine? Resolving with myself not to believe it, unless I have such evident signs thereof, that I may doubt no more of it. I examine, What those Bodies do that's most surprising; and as long as I can rationally impute the Cause thereof to the Disposition of their Organs, I think, I may safely affirm, they have no Soul. But after having found in the sole Disposition of the parts of those Bodies, that thence I can render a reason of Noise, the Sounds, the difference of the Voices, and the very Words uttered by Echoes and Parrots, I am at length obliged to admit Souls in all the Bodies that resemble mine, and to acknowledge it not possible for them to speak to such purpose, as they do, without being endowed with Reason.  
2. Next, having found, That to speak is in general nothing else, but to Give signs of our Thoughts, I observe some of those signs. The first, I consider, are the Motions of the Eyes or Face, and such Cries, as ordinarily accompany the differing states of the Body: And I take notice, that they are naturally conjoined with the Passions, of which the Soul is sensible on the occasion of changes in the Body; and that the best way we have to manifest what she suffers, is, not to strain the Face, Eyes or Voice. I note likewise, that this way of explicating ourselves, is the first of Tongues, and the most Universal, there being no Nation but understands it: But I observe at the same time, that the wickedness of Men hath made that the most deceitful of all. Besides those Natural signs of the Passions of the Soul, I discover others, which are but Instituted one's, by which she can express what ever she conceives. I show briefly the agreement and the difference of some of those signs, to make all to be understood, what I intent to deduce from thence in this place; and reserving to myself to discourse of it more strictly, and more to my purpose thereafter, I stay to consider, How one may invent a Language; How a man may learn the Tongue of a Country, where no body understands his; and lastly, How Children learn to speak. I admire, how their Reason is put to it in that Infant-age, to make them discern and distinguish the signification of every word; above all, the Order, which they follow for that purpose, appears to Me surprising, forasmuch as 'tis altogether like that of the Grammar; so that seeing, how much this Art imitates Nature, I find no difficulty to make it out, How those, that have given us the Rules thereof, have learned them from little Children. And in this whole research I meet with so many Arguments to evince the Distinction of the B●dy and Soul, that to me it seems not, there can any thing be more evidently known, than ●he.  
3 After some reflections ●n●● important a Truth, I betake myself, for the yet better knowing of the nature of Spe●ch, to unfold in this place all what is to be found in it on the score of the Body. I consider therefore in him that speaketh, the manner how the Air enters into the Lungs; why it maketh a sound in issuing out at the Windpipe? How the Muscles, that serve to open or shut this conduit, diversify the sound? What parts of the mouth are employed to determine it in a Voice? What is the configuration of every one in these different terminations? and what is the Change of the Throat, the Tongue, the Teeth, and the Lips, in all the Articulations? Which giveth me to understand, as much as needs, what Speech is, as far as it depends upon the Body. I observe with the same accurateness the effect, which by sound is produced in the Ear and Brain of him, that heareth. I find, it is from the correspondency between the Brain and the other parts of every Animal, that it can be so differently moved by different sounds; and examining chief the use of the Nerves, which diffuse themselves from the Ear to all the parts serving to form the voice, I discover the reasons of many odd effects, and amongst them, of certain Birds imitating the singing of others, and the sound of our Musical Instruments, and often our very Words.  
4. I also draw from thence a convincing argument, that Brutes need no soul to cry, or to be moved by Voices, or even to imitate the sound of our words; and that if the cry of those, that are of the same species, disposeth them to approach one another, and maketh those that are of a different kind, to retire; the cause of that is to be sought no where else but in their Bodies and the different construction of their Organs. But at the same time I find, that in Men, the motion of the parts, which serve for the Voice, or of those that are moved by it, is ever accompanied with some thoughts; and that in Speech there are always two things, viz. the Formation of the Voice, which cannot proceed but from the Body; and the Signification or the Idea, that is joined therewith, which cannot come but from the Soul.  
5. And because hitherto I have said almost nothing of the Voice, of Writing, and of Signs, but what may serve to declare what those three ways of expressing our thoughts have common (there having been no occasion, sooner to observe the differences of each) I take notice in this place of three sorts of Signs, of two sorts of Writing, and of two of Voices. I stay principally upon the last, on which occasion I finish the explication of what the order of the precedent matters had not permitted me to explicate sooner, touching the easiness or difficulty, there is in joining certain Ideas to certain Words, when we learn a Language: And making out as accurately as I can, how all that is done, I find, that the trouble which some have to conceive, or to explain themselves, is not an imperfection in the Soul; and that that marvellous facility, which others enjoy to express themselves, proceeds only from an happy Disposition of the Brain, and of all the parts that serve for the Voice or for the Motions of the Body.  
6. On which occasion I inquire into the natural causes of Eloquence, and find, that to the perfection thereof are required two talents at once, which by birth are never given to one and the same person, but yet that one of them being furnished by Nature, the defects of the other may be supplied by Art. And having remarked, that that is not reciprocal, I declare (as far as I may in a Discourse where I am to explain but the Principles) whence those defects proceed, and by what they may be corrected; and I do even examine, without stepping into the Ethics, why an Orator ought to be a good man, and how much Lying may impair the force or the grace of his action.  
7. Lastly, having considered sufficiently, how much Eloquence depends from the Temperament, and how it may be corrected or perfected by exercise, I examine, Whether it is to be met with among Spirits not united to Bodies: Which obliges me to inquire into the manner, after which they may manifest their thoughts to one another; and it makes me discover, that even our Spirits would enjoy a more easy communication among themselves, if the strict Union they have with the Body, did not indispensably oblige them to make use of Signs. The same raciocination teaches me also, that the difficulty we meet with in entertainments, is not to conceive the thoughts of those, that speak to us, but to unwrap it from the Signs they use to express it in, which often do not suit with it: Whence I conclude, that the Thought of one Spirit is always clear to another from the very instant he can perceive it. And this truth (which I discuss as far as I am capable) serves me to resolve those difficulties, which others have thought unsurmountable but by submission to Faith. I well know, 'tis Faith, that must teach us, whether sundry things have a being indeed; but there is not always need of its aid to conceive them. It belongs to it, for example, to tell us, whether there be other Spirits more enlightened, that serve to direct ours; but when once it hath declared to us that truth, me thinks, our reason can attain to it. And I esteem, that reflecting a little on what the thread of my subject hath obliged me to write of it in this Tract, we shall find it more easy to conceive, how pure Spirits can inspire us with their sentiments, than to conceive, how one Man can inspire his thoughts to another.  
I might have proceeded further in this Inquiry, but having proposed to myself only to examine what serves to Speech, I thought I was to make an end, after I had considered the sundry ways by which Thoughts may be communicated, seeing that that is properly, what we call To speak. I could wish, that the discourse I have made of it, might prove as pleasant to others as the reflections, it hath obliged me to make, have been to me. I avow, they have been all the divertisement I have enjoyed during the last Vacations; and as it is, at least in that time, permitted to comply with our inclinations, the pleasure I have found in it, solicits me strongly to spend in the same manner all the other hours, wherein I may be permitted to divert myself. To conclude, this Argument is so pleasant and so fertile, that one needs but to propose it, and it will beget a thousand pleasing thoughts: And I doubt not, but all those that excel me in genius, will find by occasion of this Discourse a thousand pretty things, which I have omitted; so that without boasting of my Book, I may affirm, that the more wit a man hath, the more pleasure he will find to read it.   

A DISCOURSE OF SPEECH.  
AMongst the Bodies, I see in the World, I perceive some, that are in all things like mine, and I confess, I have a great inclination to believe, that they are united to Souls, as mine is. But when I come to consider, that my Body hath so many operations distinct from those of my Soul, and that nothing of what maketh it subsist depends at all from Her, I think I have at least ground to doubt, that those Bodies are united to Souls, until I have examined all their actions: And I do even see, that by the maxims of good sense I shall be obliged to believe, that they have no Soul, if they do only such things, whereof I have found in myself that the Body alone may be the cause.  
Thus if I see; that the Objects make different impressions on them by the Eyes, Ears, Nose or Touch, and if I see them eat, sleep, wake, feed, breath, walk, and die, nothing of all that aught to make me believe, that there is any other thing in them but a certain disposition of organs and parts, which indeed is admirable, but yet so dependent from the course and order of the other matter, that I have acknowledged that to be the only cause in me of Nutrition Sleep, Respiration, and of the power which objects have to move the Brain so many surprising ways.  
'Tis true, I have observed, that cer●●in Thoughts always accompanied in me most of the motions of my Organs; but yet 'tis true also, that by the exactest preciseness, with which I have distinguished what was in all my operations on the account of the Body, and what on the score of the Soul, I have found manifestly, that if I had nothing but the Body, I might have all what appears to me in the other Bodies, which resemble mine.  
It behoves me therefore to observe those Bodies nearer, and to examine, whether I may not perceive by any of their Actions, that they are ruled by Souls. I see, that ordinarily they are carried to places, where the Air seems most proper to entertain by respiration a due temper in the Blood. I see, that they withdraw likewise from places, where the Cold might too much retard the motion, and from those, where the Heat might render it too quick. I see, that they often fly with vehemence from the encounter of many other Bodies, that appear to me of a Shape and Motion capable to destroy them; and I see also, that they approach those, which may be beneficial to them: And all these actions appear to me to be done with a discerning such as I find in me, when I do the same actions.  
Mean time, when I reflect, that I have found by other Contemplations, that the sole Disposition of the Organs is the cause of all those operations in me, I fear I affirm too much, if I attribute the different motions of the Bodies, that surround me, to another cause, than to the agreement, there is between their Brain and the Objects; and then, as long as I do not see them do but what is for their good, as to eat, to drink, to seek after coolness or warmth, and whatever may maintain them in a state suitable to their nature, I am not to believe, there is any other thing in them but the Organs, which may suffice for that.  
But methinks, I see them often do things that relate not at all to themselves, nor their preservation: I see some of them that meet with other Bodies, the encounter whereof must in all appearance destroy them: I see even some of them quit the food they need, and the places that shelter them from what may be noxious to them, to run thither, where their destruction is in a manner certain: And that makes me reasonably presume, that in such occasions they may be guided by somewhat, that is very differing from themselves. For when I see, that they approach resolutely to what is destructive to them, and abandon what may preserve them, I cannot ascribe those effects to this Mechanical proportion or agreement, that is between them and the Objects: And since I have often noted, that notwithstanding the bent my body hath towards certain things, and that in spite of the force, wherewith its structure makes it avoid others, I have yet a will contrary to its natural disposition, which makes it often to be transported after a manner quite differing from that, it would be, if it followed nothing else but the disposition of its organs, and the force which the objects exercise upon it; I can hardly keep myself from believing, but that the motion of all the Bodies, that resemble mine, depends from a will like mine.  
In a word, I can scarce doubt of it, when I reflect on the chain of many of their actions, that have no relation at all to what can preserve them; and above all, the connexion, I find between the Words, I hear them utter at all times, seems to demonstrate to me, that they have Thoughts. For although I do very well conceive, that a mere Engine might utter some words, yet I understand at the same time, that if the organs, which should distribute the wind, or open the pipes, whence those voices should issue, had a certain settled order among them, they could never change it, so that when the first Voice were heard, those that were wont to follow it, would needs be heard also, provided the wind were not wanting to the Engine; whereas the words, which I hear uttered by Bodies, made like mine, have almost never the same sequel. On the other hand I observe, that those Words are the same, which I would use to express my thoughts by to other subjects, that should be capable to conceive them. Lastly, the more I observe the effect, which my words produce, when I utter them before those Bodies, the more methinks that they are understood: and those, which they utter, answer so perfectly to the sense of mine, that there appears not any more ground to doubt, but that a soul performs that in them, which mine doth in me  
Notwithstanding, in pursuance to that firm resolution, I have taken to admit nothing in my belief, but what shall appear evident to me; after I have considered it enough, not to need to fear, I deceive myself; I will more seriously than ever reflect upon all what serves for Speech, since that is the surest way, I have, to know, whether all the Bodies, which so perfectly resemble mine, are indeed Men as I am.  
The first, which seems to me worthy consideration, is, that there are many Bodies, that can cause a noise by impelling the Air, and that that noise may be different, according to the different concourse of Bodies, or the diversity of their parts: In which regard 'tis so far, there should be need of supposing Souls in Bodies to produce that effect, that on the contrary I know, that the Noise not happening but because the Air is impelled, the cause of it cannot rationally be imputed but to what is capable to impel it, that is, to a Body.  
I know also, that by the aid of Mechanics one may so fitly adjust certain Bodies to one another, that they shall be able to compose instruments capable to make agreeable sounds, and even to imitate the Songs, which I have sometimes used to express grief or joy.  
I know further, that Rocks and other like Bodies can make us understand not only Sounds, as Musical Instruments do, but also Words perfectly articulated. 'Tis true, I know, that they form them not, and that, as they would repel a ball to him that should cast it on them, they do no more but send back the words to him that hath uttered them, that is, they drive back to him the same air that was driven to them, without changing any thing in that impression; which maketh it carry the words so far from the places, where they are pronounced, when there is nothing to stop them.  
I conceive likewise, as I have already said, that Art may go so far as to frame an Engine, that shall articulate words like those, which I pronounce; but then I conceive at the same time, that it would only pronounce those, that were designed it should pronounce, and that it would always pronounce them in the same order.  
So that I ought not hastily to believe, that whatsoever can make a Noise, render a sound, form voices, or pronounce words, hath Thoughts; and I ought above all, to take notice, that the wonderful Workman, to whom I own the structure of my Body, hath so mechanically disposed and ordered all the parts, and principally those that serve for the voice, that to form it I need no Soul: The sole motions of the Muscles, the Breast and the Diaphragme can make the Air enter into my Lungs, or let it out; and the only situation of the Cartilages of the Larynx, diversely changed by the small Muscles which serve to move them, may be the cause of a thousand sharp or grave found'st, sweet or shrill, piercing or weak, according to the different flexures, the air receives in that passage.  
I ought also to consider, that when I articulate divers words, it is only because that the Air, which is already let out of the throat, is diversely agitated, according as the Muscles of my Tongue move the same either upwards or downwards in my mouth; or else because being near to get out, it is agitated according to the different ways, in which my Teeth or my Lips can apply themselves to one another by the motion of their Muscles.  
Besides I must consider, that the Muscles, which, serve to move all those parts, are not moved themselves, but according as my Brain is agitated, and that that can be so, a thousand different ways by the Organs of Hearing; my soul having no other part in all those motions, but to perceive the effects thereof.  
Lastly, I am to take notice, that there is so great a communication and correspondency between the Nerves of the Ear, and those of the Larynx, that whensoever any sound agitates the Brain, there flow immediately spirits towards the Muscles of the Larynx, which duly dispose them to form a sound altogether like that, which was just now striking the Brain. And although I well conceive, that there needs some time to facilitate those motions of the Muscles of the Throat, so that the Sounds, which excite the Brain the first time, cannot be easily expressed by the Throat, yet notwithstanding I do as well conceive, that by virtue of repeating them it will come to pass, that the Brain, which thereby is often shaken in the same places, sends such a plenty of spirits through the nerves, that are inserted in the Muscles of the Throat, that at length they easily move ●ll the cartilages, which serve for that action, as 'tis requisite they should be moved to form Sounds like those, that have shaken the Brain.  
Thus it is not enough, that Bodies make Sounds, form Voices, and even articulate Words like those, by which I express what I think, to persuade me, that they think  they seem to say. For example, I ought not be so rash as to believe, that a Parrot hath any thought, when he pronounces some Words: For besides that I have observed, that after having repeated to him exceedingly often the same words in a certain order, he never returneth but the self same words, and in the same coherence; It seems to me, that since he does not make these returns to purpose, he imitates men less, than Echoes do, which never answer but what hath been said to them; and if there be any difference between Parrots and Echoes, it is, that Rocks, tossing back the Air without changing at all the impressions, it hath received, render the same voices, that have struck them; whereas Parrots form another voice like that, which hath struck the ear, and often repeat words, which are said to them no more. But in short, as I cannot say, that Rocks speak, when they return words, so I dare not affirm, that Parrots speak, when they repeat them. For it seems to me, that to speak, is not to repeat the same words, which have struck the ear, but to utter others to their purpose and suitable to them. And as I have reason to believe that none of the Bodies, that make Echoes, do think though I hear them repeat my words, seeing they never render them but in the order, I uttered them in; I should by the same reason judge, that Parrots do not think neither.  
But not to examine any further, how it is with Parrots, and so many other Bodies, whose figure is very different from mine, I shall continue the Inquiry, which I need, to know the inward constitution of those, who resemble me so perfectly without; and for that purpose I think, I may, after the disquisition I have been making of all what causeth noise, sounds, voices, and words, establish for a Principle,  
That if the Bodies, which are like mine, had nothing but the facilness of pronouncing Words, I should not therefore believe, that they had the advantage of being united to Souls: But then, if I find by all the Experiments, I am capable to make, that they use speech as I do, I shall think, I have infallible reason to believe that they have a soul as I  
To make this examen in such an order, as leaves me no suspicion at all to have deceived myself, I must consider before all, what I mean by SPEECH. To speak (in my opinion) is nothing else, but to make known what we think to that creature which is capable to understand it. And supposing that the Bodies, which resemble mine, have Souls, I see, that the only means to express to one another what we think, is, to give to ourselves external signs thereof.  
But, me thinks, I have found, that there are many signs common to them and me, by which we understand one another: for seeing that they answer to my signs by other signs, which give me images agreeable to what I think, I do not believe I am deceived, when I persuade myself, that they have understood my thought, and that the new thought, which their signs have excited in me, is really that, which they have.  
Moreover, I see, I can agree with some of them, that what commonly signifies one thing, shall signify another, and that this succeeds so, as that there are none but those, with whom I have agreed about it, that appear to me to understand what I think.  
Whence I conceive; that those signs are of Institution, and as that Institution necessarily supposeth reason and thoughts in those, that are capable to agree about it, I should, it may be, advance nothing rashly, if I now affirmed, that those Bodies are united to Souls.  
But that, which might trouble me here, is, that if there be signs of Institution, I think, I know others, that are altogether natural. For example, all those, by which I express my passions without any design to do so: Thus a smiling Mien, and certain motions of my eyes, or of the other parts of my Face, make me often consider, when I consult with the Looking-glass, that if others saw me, they would know my sadness, my joy, or the other passions stirring in me: And that, it may be (If those bodies resembling mine, have Souls) is the surest means to discover to them the different constitutions of my Soul.  
Yet, if I take good heed, I can render those signs very deceitful. For I find, that though naturally I appear outwardly cheerful or sad, when I am so indeed, yet I have the power to constrain the motions of my face and eyes, so as to make them have an Air quite differing from that, which they would have, if I left their motions free: Which gives me to understand, that though naturally certain motions of my face, and even of my whole Body have been joined to some of my thoughts, yet this conjunction is not so necessary, but that I can sometimes alter it, by joining those thoughts to other motions. And though indeed, that give me much pain, yet I conceive, that as we may form an easy habit of what at first appears very difficult, I could also render these changes easy enough to me.  
But, what I am most of all to observe here is, that, although it be very convenient, that, as long as my Soul is united to my Body, (for the conservation whereof she hath divers passions) her joy, her sadness, her desires, or her fear be always joined with the motions, which the good or ill disposition of that Body can beget in the Brain; as also that that correspondence which is between the parts of the Brain and those of the Face or Eyes, and all such as are external, be the cause, that what is within, may never change, unless there be marks of it without; yet notwithstanding, since those exterior marks have no necessary relation but to the changes of the Brain, and that the sole condition of the Body may be the cause thereof, it might happen, that though the Bodies, which resemble mine, should not be united to Souls, that yet they would have the same motions of eyes and face, which I often perceive in me, according as they should be well or ill disposed within; so that those external signs, so like in those Bodies and mine, are not alone an infallible argument, that those bodies are endowed with Souls.  
Further, since those motions of the face and eyes, and even those cries, that are never wanting, when nothing constrains them, to follow the different conditions of the Body by reason of the relation, there is between all the parts thereof, may very properly be called the natural signs of the State, the Body is in; I shall be careful to forbear, when the eyes and face, or even the Cries of those Bodies shall not appear to me excited but by the objects, that may benefit or hurt them, to believe, that those external motions are the signs of any Thought.  
But yet, when I shall see, that those Bodies shall make signs, that shall have no respect at all to the state they are in, nor to their conservation: when I shall see, that those signs shall agree with those which I shall have made to express my thoughts: When I shall see, that they shall give me Ideas, I had not before, and which shall relate to the thing, I had already in my mind: Lastly, when I shall see a great sequel between their signs and mine, I shall not be reasonable, If I believe not, that they are such, as I am.  
Thus I have no more cause to doubt concerning this point; for I have many a thousand like trials, and I have not only seen a great connexion between their signs and my thoughts, but I have also found so great an one between their signs and mine, that I can doubt no longer of their thoughts. And if the power, I have to hinder, that the exterior motions of my face, and the other signs of my passions may not express them, hath been one of the reasons, I have had to acknowledge, that my thoughts were very different from the motions, that are wont to accompany them; I can now assure, not only that those other Bodies, which resemble mine, have thoughts, but also, though they can, as I myself, not let them always be so joined to the motions, which use to signify them, that one ought always to trust them; Yet I have found, that they knew the art of constraining themselves, and frequently after many signs on their side, and mine, which showed me that they understood my thoughts, and made me believe that I understood theirs, I perceived, they had a design to deceive me.  
Now then, since I may doubt no longer, that the Bodies, which resemble mine, are united to Souls, and in a word, since I am assured, that there are other men besides myself, I think I ought carefully to inquire into what remains to know of Speech.  
Hitherto I have discoursed of it but in general, and said only, that To speak was to give signs of one's Thought: But in regard that the little reflection, I have made on these signs, hath already discovered to me so important a truth, and that I also see, that those same signs are the only means to entertain Society amongst Men, which is the greatest good, they have in this World, I intent as much as I can to observe the different sorts of them together with their properties, and to endeavour to discover all the wonders of them, to learn all their uses.  
One of the chief things, I find worthy of consideration touching these signs, is, That they have not any resemblance to the Thoughts, which men join to them by institution. And indeed, whether we express our thoughts by gestures, by discourse, or by characters, (which are the three sorts of the most used signs, by which we manifest our thoughts) we cannot but see (if we consider it with some attention) that there is nothing less resembling our Thoughts, than is all that, which serves us to express them. For, when a man, to declare that he agrees not with me in such or such a thing, is shaking his head, and when the better to express it, he moveth his throat, tongue, teeth and lips, to form words, or takes paper and with a pen trace● characters to write it to me, I see so little resemblance betwixt all those motions of the Head, of the Mouth, or o● the Hand, and what they teach me that I cannot enough wonder how they so easily give me the understanding of a thing, they so ill represent.  
But what is most admirable herein is, That this vast difference between those Signs and our Thoughts, doth by marking to us that, which is between our Body and Soul, teach us at the same time the whole Secret of their Union. At least methinks, that that strict union, which the sole Institution or men is able to settle betwixt certain external Motions, and our Thoughts, is to him that will consider it, the best means to conceive, wherein in truth consists the Union of the Body and the Soul. For cartainly, if we do conceive, that men can by institution join certain Motions to certain Thoughts, it cannot be hard to conceive, that the Author of Nature, in forming a Man, so well unites some Thoughts of his Soul to some motions of his Body, that those motions cannot be raised in the Body, but the thoughts must also be forthwith excited in the Soul, and that reciprocally as soon as the Soul will have the Body move after a certain manner, it be so at the same time.  
For the rest, 'tis evident, that from this so necessary relation, which the Author of Nature maintain betwixt the body and the soul, it is that that necessity of making Signs to express our thoughts hath its rise. For, seeing the Soul can have no though, but at the occasion whereof there will be made a motion in the Body, and that also she cannot receive any Idea of what is without but by the motions excited in the Body, which she animateth; it must needs be, that two Souls united to two different Bodies do express their thoughts by Motions, or, if you will, by outward Signs. But to know perfectly, how that is done, there needs, in my opinion, to be made but a little reflection on what I have already observed about the principal differences of Signs, on the particular cause of each, and on the reasons, men have to use them.  
And first, if it be true, that certain motions of the Face, and certain Cries do naturally follow certain conditions of the Body by virtue of the relation, which is between all the parts thereof, we must believe, that the thoughts, which are naturally joined to those motions of the Face, and to these Cries, are the passions, which the Soul suffers at the occasion of the State, the Body is in; so that if a man hath well observed his Eyes, his Face, and all the outward parts of his Body during the time he hath been in certain passions, he hath been able, seeing the same motions in another man, to Judge, that that man felt the same passions: 'Tis true, if at times he hath been so dextrous as to constrain himself in the like state, he may have learned to mistruct those signs; but still 'tis manifest, that they are naturally proper to declare passions, and that the best means to make one understand what the Soul suffers, is, not to constrain the Face, the Eyes or the Voice; 'tis the most natural way to express our thoughts; 'tis also the first of all the Languages, and the most Universal that is in the World, since there is no Nation, but understands it.  
There are two other ways to express not only the Passions of the Soul, but also what ever she conceiveth, viz. Speech, and Writing; which, to speak truth, are but one and the same thing. For, men having observed, that they could form different Voices or different Letters, did agree, that the words or the Letters should signify Things, and they expressed themselves by the one or by the other of those ways, according as it was more convenient to the State, they were in; if they were absent, the letters which remain after they are drawn were more convenient for them, because they could be carried where a voice could not; but if they were present, words uttered seemed to them a more facile way to express themselves; and lastly, if there were some, that had not the freedom of the voice, he might by Characters expose to the Eye the Signs of his Thought: So that if there be any real difference 'twixt Writing and Speaking, 'tis, that in Speaking we make use of the Voice, and in Writing of Characters, which 'tis true, are very differing signs, but in both we express ourselves by things external and corporeal, which by institution are made to signify what we think; and that in general is what we call Speaking.  
This being so, there is no man, that may not conceive, that one can lear● a Language, or a way of Writing, an● that one may even invent them. For is evident, that whether we learn them or invent them, we do nothing else bu● agree, that certain Characters shall signify certain thoughts. It appears also that if there be a difference between learning and inventing them; it is, that in learning them, we only furnish ourselves with the signs, already agreed o● by other men, but in inventing them we are Masters of the Institution, which maketh that the Words or Characters signify rather one thing than another: And by this means it is, that almost all the Nations have made to themselves different Languages.  
But as 'tis easy to conceive, how men that speak one and the same Language, may agree amongst themselves about the means of inventing new ones; I shall stay a while to consider, how a person that hath no knowledge at all of the Language of a Country, may learn it, though those of that Country should know nothing of his.  
For that end I conceive, that applying himself at first to know the names of the things, most necessary for him, he should attentively hearken to all that should be said by those, who should hold in their hands, or show any of those things; and the word they should repeat oftenest in speaking of that thing, being most likely the name of it, he should, when he pronounces that word, at the same time, to obtain the thing, use some sign to manifest he had need of it; and if, making that show, and and giving to understand his need, he should not name it aright, men would not be wanting to tell him the right name of it; so that he might by the like informations in a short time know the name of many things, and how little wit soever he had, observe, above all things, the words that should be repeated to him oftenest, by answering to divers questions, he should make of the name of the things, by pointing to them. For, in all appearance, the words, that should be found in all the answers nearest the name of every thing, would signify, That is called, or named; so that he would have no more to do but to repeat them, for the making of new questions.  
When he shall have learned by this means the names of many things, he might then, according as those things should be beneficial or hurtful, observe the words, which those, who should manifest they were affected with them, should use to express what they meant by them, and by this way learn the words, which signifying the qualities are always added to those, which signify the things, to which those qualities belong.  
Next, when he shall see done certain actions, e.g. of mounting, descending, going away, and coming, he might ask, How that was called, and when he shall know words enough to form discourses, wherein he might mingle Verbs with Nouns, that is to say, what he thought concerning the things and their actions, he could then make himself to be understood, though he should as yet speak improperly as to the words and the construction.  
But to see, that that is not impossible, we need only to consider, that such a thing must often happen to Travellers: And should not Men of age find means to make themselves to be understood in a Country where they come, since little Children find them to learn the language of the Country where they are born? They bring nothing with them into the world, but what Nature gives to all men, to express pain, joy, or other passions: Mean while, that suffices them; and how little time soever they have lived, they so well study the looks of their Nurse, that she can make them weep or laugh, by only looking on them. Thus they easily know the passions of those that come near them, by the external motions, which are the natural signs of them.  
They are somewhat longer to understand the signs, that men have instituted to signify things; but the need they have of some of th●m, renders them so attentive to ●ll what is said of those things, when they perceive that they are touched or shown by the hand, that at length they learn the name of it. 'Tis true, that ordinarily we endeavour to excite in them some passion (as joy) by some cry, which accomp nying the show that is made to them of the things at the same time, when we tell them their names, maketh th' t they are more attentive to them, and by being more affected with them by this means, they retain them the better.  
But in the taking p●ins to teach them certain things, we often perceive, that they know the names of a thousand other things, which we desseigned not to show them: And what is most surprising therein, is, to see, when they are 2. or 3. years of age, that by the sole force of their attention they are capable to find out in all the constructions which are made in speaking of one and the same thing, the name, we give to that thing.  
They learn after this, with the same application and discerning, the words which signify the qualities of the things of which they know the names.  
At last, extending their knowledge farther, they mark some actions or motions of those same things; and observing at the same time those that speak of it, they, by virtue of their attention, and hearing repeated the words, which are mixed with the names that signify the things or their qualities, distinguish those that signify action.  
Thus a child of a strong and vigorous temper, seeing a Horse that runs, seems to have a mind to fly after it, those that intent to divert him, often ask him, Whether he seethe the Horse: And because perhaps that word would be too hard for him to pronounce, in regard that Children do better pronounce all the words, that need only the Lips or the Gums to be well articulated, they give him a name convenient for it; and when by the effect he maketh to get to the Horse, he is come near the pronunciation of that word, he is led near the Creature, which he is made to flatter, by saying 'tis a fine, a good Horse: which is often repeated as long as it suffers itself to be thus caressed. But if the Horse begin to stir or snort, which may make one fear it might hurt the Child, those that have a mind to take the Child away from it, presently say, 'tis a naughty Horse: And if that Child, when 'tis carried away, expresseth by crying it would stay, those that hold it, fain a kind of fear, of which the Child knowing the outward signs in their looks, feels presently the like motions, which maketh it be contented to be removed from the Horse: And whereas during all that while the word naughty is often repeated with demonstrations that make the Child more attentive, it conceiveth what this new word means, remembers it, and often repeats it his own way, so that, if after such lessons the same Child sees an Horse, it will repeat the word, which signifieth to him that Animal, and if in his approach to it he finds it gentle and content to be stroaked, he names at the same time the word that signifieth an Horse, and that which signifieth its gentleness; but if it prance, the fear which the Child will have of it, will make it strive to get away, and to name the word naughty as well as it can, after that which signifieth an Horse, without tying these two words together by any Verb, that denotes any action.  
I shall here mention on the by that 'tis likely, that those who made the Elements of the Grammar, made the like Observations. As the whole are of their method could not be deduced but from the Nature itself, they must needs have considered, how Children learn to speak; and I see that indeed their precepts are nothing but an Imitation of those which Nature gives to Children.  
First, Grammarians teach the Words, that signify things, which they call substantives; then those that signify qualities, which they call adjectives; and till they have well distinguished those two names, they teach not the words that signify the actions of things, which they call verbs: wherein they follow also the son's Nature gives to Children, who, as far as we can observe, do not apply themselves to hearken to the words which signify the actions of a thing, but when they already know the name of the thing itself, and that of the qualities, which makes that thing please or displease them: for 'tis always according to this agreeableness, that they learn one thing rather than another.  
And to explain that by the same Example, which I have already begun to m●ke use of; when the Child, whereof have spoken, knows well the name of the Horse, and the names of the qualities, that make it please or displease him, the desire which it naturally hath to extend its knowledge causeth it to observe the actions of the Horse when it sees it; and if at times we perceive, that following the impetus of its temper, it gives signs of joy, when it sees the Horse run, we shall then say with such out-cries as commonly do accompany Joy, and by moving the Child in a manner like that the Animal moves in, that the Horse runs; and this often repeated will make the Child conceive the word which expresses that action, insomuch that it will not fail to join the word, which signifies the Horse, to that which signifies its action.  
We might, pursuing of the same example, show, how a Child learns at length to speak a whole language; but 'tis sufficient to have exactly observed the beginnings of it, it being easy to understand the sequel thereof. That wh●ch is only to be noted here, is, that it requireth much more time to teach them the power of Adverbs, th●n the words that signify substances, qualities, and actions; because it concerns not so much their conservation to know that more, or this less; that excess, or this defect, which are expressed by the Adverbs, that are joined to things, qualities or actions, as the things, qualities or actions themselves do.  
It may also be considered, that when they begin to take notice of the more, the less, of the excess or defect, they commonly express it by some motion, or some pointing at bigness, smallness, according as things touch one another strongly or slightly by their qualities or action.  
'Tis the same with Conjunctions and other particles invented to connect things, or to separate them. For, Children use them but seldom, and late; because they, following nature altogether, believe to have expressed the thing and its quality, when they have put the two words, that signify them, to one another.  
And the same a Child does as to the action, which he expresseth by putting the word, which signifieth it, next the name of the thing, without being yet able to discern that preciseness of the times, or to observe that diversity of terminations, which applying the word, that signifies one and the same action, to divers persons and divers times, formeth Conjugation.  
We might also show, how a Child comes to know the term of actions; and lastly we might draw from the natural order, wherein Children learn to speak, notions to judge, which of all the Languages are the most perfect: For doubtless those which we should find in their ordinary constructions to follow most that natural order, should pass for the most perfect.  
But since I only look here after the Principles, I am not to proceed so far to particulars. I desire only, that by the way an important truth may be taken notice of, which this example of Children evidently discovers to us, viz. That from their birth they have their reason entire; because indeed this way of learning to speak is the effect of so great a discerning, and of so perfect reason, that a more wonderful one cannot possibly be conceived.  
If in the sequel of age they appear without conduct, and almost without reason, it is to be considered, that 'tis the knowledge of affairs, and the matters they are to re●son upon, which they want, rather than reason. To which may be added, that the Customs of the World, which make up all the wisdom of it, are often so contrary to what Nature, well ordered, would exact from men, that those who are born, need to live many years, to learn things so remote from what Nature te●cheth. But always 'tis manifest, that the Reason of Children is entire from the beginning, seeing they learn perfectly the Language of the Country where they are born, and that in less time than Men of age need to learn that of a Country, where they should chance to travel, and not find any body that understood theirs.  
By this time it is not difficult to conceive, why 'tis so easy for us to learn a strange Language of a person that understands it, and understands also ours: For than we can easily inquire after the name of every thing. By this means also we may learn many Tongues, it being obvious, that after we have learned the word, which signifies a thing in French, we may also learn, by what words the Italians, the Spaniards and other Nations express that thing: And what is remarkable, is, that when we have once agreed, that many words shall signify one and the same thing, we so well join the Idea or the thought of that thing to each of those words, that often we remember very well that the Idea of it hath been given us, without remembering which of all those words was employed for it: whence it comes to pass, that when we are in company with persons of different Countries, whose Tongues we understand, we easily retain every news, and all what was said upon the matters, that were spoken of, without remembering just the words nor the Language th●t was made use of to give us those images, which remain of them in us.  
This also shows very clearly, methinks, the distinction there is between our Thoughts, and the Words whereby we express them: And as the principal end, for which I designed this Tract, is to show this distinction, so I think I am not to omit in this place another Consideration, which, in my opinion, maketh that so evident, that 'tis not possibe to doubt of it.  
And that is, that when a man speaks in public, and hath for his Auditors many persons of different Nations, the sense of his words is not apprehended but by those, who know the Language he useth, although the sound of his words do equally affect all the rest. But if the Soul were not distinct from the Body, and if Thoughts were not distinct from Motions, it would happen, that when the Brain of many persons should be affected in the same manner, they would all think the same thing at the same time, because they equally have what in that matter depends from the Ear and Brain. But because all have not agreed in this, that certain motions of those parts should signify certain things, nor have joined them to the images they have of them, it happens, that one speaks fruitlessly of those things before them, and that they understand them not, though the words, employed to express them, strike their Ear and Brain, as they do the Ear and Brain of those that understand them.  
The same thing may also be seen in those that study any Language. They often know in one instant the signification of a word, but know it no more in another; and yet they well remember the word; and they have also the image of the thing, which it is to represent to them; but they have not yet so well joined the one to the other, that that image returns to their mind, when the word is pronounced which signifieth it.  
Although I am persuaded, I have hitherto said nothing but what is grounded on principles clear enough to leave no doubt, and that possibly they might be sufficient to deduce other consequences from them, which might also discover to us some truths important enough; yet notwithstanding I believe, that to clear up fully what remains to be said, and even what hath been said alre die, it will be fit, before we proceed, well to discriminate all what is sound in Speech ●s depending from the Body, from wh●t there is in it, as depending from the Soul; and then to consider what it borrows from their Union.  
Upon the account of the Body in him, that forms the Voice, it is to be considered, that he hath Lungs, into which the Air enters by the Windpipe when the Muscles of the Breast distend all the sides thereof by their motion; just as Air enters in a pair of Bellows at the end, when 'tis expanded by separating the two sides thereof.  
We are also to conceive, that as the wind, which issueth out of Bellows, when they are closed, would be capable to thrust the Air as many different ways, as we should put different pipes at the place where the wind comes out; even so the Air, which issues out of the Lungs, when the Breast subsides, is diversely thrust, according as the Entry of the Windpipe is differently disposed; which I enlarge not upon, because I suppose, that 'tis generally known, that besides many small gristly rings, serving to keep the sides of the membrane, which forms that channel, by which the Air enters into and issues out of the Lungs, from approaching one another too near; there are three considerable ones, whereof one can shut itself so close, that when it is in that position, the Air cannot get out of the Lungs but with a great force; And sometimes also it can so enlarge itself, as that the Air may issue out very easily. But as between the greatest and the smallest Aperture, of which it is capable, here is an infinite diversity of other Apertures, of which every one makes a different impression on the Air, we are not to think it strange, that the Air which comes out of the mouth, is able to make so many different effects.  
I suppose also, that every one easily conceives, that the Cartilege, which serveth to modify the Air, is not destitute of the muscles, that are requisite to open it, to shut it, and even to keep it in certain positions, as there shall be need to make one and the same sound last. These Muscles are disposed in so wonderful an order, that 'tis not possible to see it without admiration. The other two Cartilages have also their Muscles, and all things are so well ordered in that place, that one may raise or depress that Entrance, and open or close it, and that either slowly or swiftly, yet so that the motion of the small muscles, which serve for some of those actions, be not hindered by the motion of those, that serve for others: Which informs us, that 'tis from the sole disposition of that place of the Windpipe, that the difference of the sounds depends.  
And 'tis to be observed, that if there were but that part, there would not be any difference betwixt the sounds, it would make, and those of a Flute, that is, it would make only uncertain sounds, and no voices: but to give them a certain determination, the Mouth is so fashioned, that these sounds coming to be tuned, receive different terminations according to the different ways it opens.  
If for example you open the Mouth as much as you can in crying, you cannot form but a voice in A. And for that reason the Character, which in writing denotes that voice, or termination of the sound, is called A.  
If you open your mouth a little less, advancing the lower jaw towards the upper, you'll form another voice terminated in E.  
And if you approach yet more the jaws to one another, yet without making the Teeth touch, you'll form a third voice in I  
But if on the contrary you go to open the Jaws, and at the same time draw the Lips together at the two corners, the upper and the lower, yet without quite shutting them, there will be formed a voice in O.  
Lastly, if you approach the Teeth, yet without quite joining them, and at the same instant put out both the Lips by approaching them again, without quite joining them, you form a voice in U.  
It is so easy to conceive, how the motions that are given to all the parts of the Mouth in each of those formations of voices, being mixed, there may be formed voices, the termination whereof shall be intermediate between two of those five voices; that I shall not stay to examine how these middle or compounded Voices are formed, which are called Dipthongues.  
But I believe 'tis necessary a little to examine, how those motions of the Voice are made, that make those different Articulations of it, which in writing are expressed by the Characters called Consonants.  
Some are articulated by the Lips only; thus when we join our Lips without joining the Teeth, we cannot form the voice A, but in disjoining the Lips in such a manner, as makes us articulate the Syllable Basilius, whereof the last letter expressing the termination of the Sound, that is, the Voice, is called Vowel; and the first, which marketh the manner how this voice is articulated, sounding together with it, is called H. Consonant. Whence, by the by we may see, that often the Voice may be good, without being well articulated: For, the Lungs, which thrust the Air, and the entrance of the Windpipe, may be so well disposed as to make the Voice very agreeable and pleasing; but in the same person, who shall have that advantage, the other parts of the Mouth may be so ill disposed, that not being moved with ease, nor corresponding the one to the other with an entire justness, the Voice shall not be well articulated.  
What is said of B. with the Voice A. may be said of the same Consonant with other Voices, without any difference in the articulation, which beginning always with disjoining the Lips is always the same, and receives not its different termination but from the different site, which the parts of the Mouth put themselves in, to form those different Voices.  
The Consonants P, and M. are form as B. by disjoining the Lips; but with this difference, that the Lips are to be only joined to pronounce B. by opening them; but they must be more strongly closed and drawn inward to utter a P; and yet more closed and more drawn in, well to pronounce an M.  
The Letter F. is uttered by joining the under-lip to the upper-teeths, whereas the former Consonants are formed by joining both Lips together.  
The Consonant V is pronounced as the Letter F. with this difference, that you do more press your Teeth against the Lip for the Letter F, than for the Consonant V.  
The Letter S. is pronounced by approaching the Under-teeths near enough to the Upper-teeths, and the Tongue near enough to the , not to let the Air pass, which is getting out of the Mouth, but by a kind of whistling: And the Letter Z. is pronounced after the same manner, only with this difference, that for Z. we leave a little more space to the air, by not approaching so much the Tongue to the , and by so extending it that it may nearer approach the Teeth, than in the pronouncing of S.  
D. is uttered by an appulse of the top of the Tongue to the Gums of the upper-teeths; and T. by striking with the top of the tongue against the place where the upper and lower teeth join.  
As for the letter N. it is formed by striking with the top of the tongue between the  and the upper part of the teeth: And R. by carrying the top of the tongue to the upper part of the , so that the tongue being shaken by the air issuing forcibly, yields to it; and often returns to the same place, as long as one will have this pronunciation to last. And the letter L. is uttered by carrying the top of the tongue between the place, where the letter N. and that, where R. is formed.  
G. is pronounced by a gentle appulse of the middle of the tongue to the inward extremity of the ; and K. by its appulse to the same place with a little more force.  
As to X, it is a pronunciation compounded of S. and K. For C, it may be said, that 'tis often pronounced like S. and frequently like K. The letter Q. is also pronounced like K.  
Lastly, the J. consonant is pronounced by carrying the middle of the tongue towards the interior extremity of the , with less force than in G, when 'tis pronounced with an A, or O, or V, For CH, it is a pronunciation of C, joined to a gentle aspiration; so that the syllable Ga. comes from the bottom of the Throat; the syllable Ka, from somewhat more forward; the syllable Ja, from a place a little nearer the middle of the , and the syllable Cha, from the very middle of the   
I do not examine, why some pronounce certain consonants better than others. For 'tis obvious, that the facility or difficulty of pronouncing comes only from the disposition there is in the parts of the mouth, insomuch that if the muscles of some of them be well disposed, and those of others not, we shall pronounce the Letters well, where we have need of the motion of the parts, that are in a good disposition; and we shall pronounce ill those, where we have occasion of the motion of parts, that are disposed ill. Thus little Children will pronounce better the B. than P. D. and some others, where we need only the lips or some teeth, or the top of the tongue, than those letters, to pronounce which there is required the use of the middle of the tongue, or where 'tis necessary to redouble the tongue to the height of the , as the letter R; because the humidity of their Brain maketh their tongue too thick: whence we are wont, in speaking to them, to alter the name of the things which they knew first, when there are letters which they cannot pronounce; and that amongst Us, we mark to them their Father and Mother (Pere & Mere) by words, of which the Consonants are easy, being pronounced by the lips and teeth, or by the tip of the tongue.  
After we have taken notice as much as was necessary, How Sound is formed; How 'tis terminated into Voices; and How articulated into syllables by him that pronounceth (to consider nothing but the Body;) We are now to examine the effect it produceth in the Ear, it striketh, and in the Brain, it shaketh.  
In regard that the Anatomy of the Ear is a thing commonly known, and that 'tis sufficient for every one to be persuaded in the general, that it is an Organ disposed to receive the air, when 'tis propelled by Bodies, which by touching one another drive it from betwixt them, or repelled by hard Bodies, or issuing out of the Lungs of an Animal; I shall make no description of it: I desire only it may be observed, that as many different shake there are in the Air, so many different sorts there are of its passing into the Ear, and that according to those diversities it causeth a different agitation in the Membrane (stretched out in the bottom of the Ear) and in the Nerves answering thereto.  
It may also be judged by what we know of the construction of Animals, even of Beasts, that according as the Agitation of the Nerves of the Ear is different, the Brain must be agitated in different parts; and likewise that 'tis always according as those different parts are agitated, that the spirits are differently distributed into the members.  
But all that is performed by a necessary sequel of the mechanical disposition of the whole Body of every Animal, and even of every Beast, which being of a certain kind, that is, made for one thing or another, hath all what is necessary to effect what the Author of Nature proposed to himself in forming it: It hath the Brain so adjusted (according to its temperament) for all what may conserve it, that if the Objects which can hurt it, move its Brain, 'tis always after such a manner, which maketh it to open in the places, whence the spirits may flow into the muscles, which serve to make it retire from those Objects; and if the Objects, which can benefit it, move its Brain, 'tis always in such a manner, as maketh it to open in the places, whence the spirits may be diffused into the muscles, which serve to make it approach to those Objects, so that if we suppose, that one and the same noise striking the ears of two Beasts of differing kind, do agitate at the same time their Brains, we are to believe, that that agitation being diversely made in each, and in different parts of their Brain, according as that which causes the noise, shall be agreeable or contrary to it, it will also happen, that the course of the spirits being necessarily different in those two Beasts, one of them shall be carried far from the object, whilst the other approacheth to it. Thus the howling of a Wolf may make a Sheep fly, but at the same time bring to him another Wolf.  
But 'tis necessary to observe here, that although the Art, whereby the Brain of Animals is composed, be infinitely varied, and that 'tis admirable herein, that according to their different conformations 'tis always found so artificially disposed, that those Creatures must necessarily and according to all the rules of the Mechanics approach to what is naturally good for them, and retire from what is naturally noxious to them; yet it was not possible, that within the small compass of their Brain there should be so many differing springs, that they could have a proportion necessary, and always well suited to all sorts of Objects.  
But instead thereof, their Brain is made of a substance soft enough, easily to receive new impressions, and yet consistent enough to retain those, which in some places thereof are made by certain objects, which being neither naturally good nor ill for them, do yet sometimes occasion considerable benefit or mischief to them; and frequently those traces, which at first were not in the Brain, remain there so well marked, that when the Objects, which caused them, present themselves, the places, keeping the impression, being more agitated by them than the other, diffuse thence such spirits into the muscles, as serve to carry the Animal nearer too or further from those Objects, according as they have been found beneficial or noxious to it.  
Mean time, whereas there is much more danger for the Animal, to suffer the approach of the Objects, that can hurt it, than there would be in the not approaching those that might do it good: at the time when there is yet no impression in its Brain at the occasion of an Object, if then it happen, that from a noise that Object begin to shake the Brain of the Creature, it will never fail to fly; especially if the Air hath been agitated strongly, or in such a way that hath troubled the Brain,  
I believe there is no body, that hath not often felt in himself the effects of this surprise, and experimented how much the Will, which the Soul than hath to keep the Body in certain places, is controlled by this natural Disposition, which maketh all the Spirits and Muscles conspire together to transport it far from those places, where a noise is made; especially when 'tis so great, that the whole Body is threatened to be there destroyed.  
Every one may also have found, what force the agitation made in the Brain by a noise not ordinary, hath to make the Spirits, without one's thinking on't, flow into the muscles, that serve to transport the Body out of the places where that noise happens.  
But since this is not yet the place proper to examine, what the Soul's part is in Speech, we must, to finish the Observations of what she borrows from the Body for the formation of a Voice, call to mind a Note, I have already made, which is, that the same Nerves which answer to the Ears, have branches going to the Teeth, the Tongue, the Entrance of the Windpipe, and generally to all the places which serve to form or modify the Voice; so that, following Nature's Institution, the same shaking of the Auditory Nerves, which affects the Brain with the motion, caused by a voice in the Air, is also the cause, that the Spirits, which flow from the Brain into the Nerves of all the parts serving for the Voice, dispose their Muscles in a manner, which answering to the Impression made by the Voice in the Brain, puts them into a state to form a Voice altogether like it: And if it have been necessary, that the correspondence, which is between the Auditory Nerves and the Brain, should be such, that when it should be moved by the concussions of the air, that should be done in different places of it according to the diversity of Noises, to the end that, following that diversity, the Spirits might diffuse themselves into the Muscles, that can carry away or stay the Animal, according as the causes of that noise are good or ill for the whole Body; It was no less requisite, there should be a sufficient commerce between the same Auditory Nerves, and those of the parts, that serve for the Voice, to bring it to pass, that when a voice should strike the ear, the Muscles of those parts might immediately be disposed as they ought to be, to form another perfectly like it.  
And to manifest this necessity better, 'tis requisite to make two reflections. The first is, that if it concern Animals, to have their Brain shaken by the noise of certain Bodies, before they approach too near them, that so they may avoid them; it concerns them likewise to have their Brain moved by some other Bodies, to the end that they may be carried towards them, when they are remoter from them, than is requisite for their conservation, or conveniency.  
The other is, that as, (considering only each Animal according to its species) there is nothing more noxious to it, than those of a contrary species; so there is nothing that can be more beneficial to it than those of its own kind.  
That being so, 'tis evident that nothing could be so useful as this communication, which is between the Ears and the parts serving to form the voice: For by this means the cry of one Beast shaking the Brain of another of its kind, it presently comes to pass, that not only it is carried towards that, which maketh the cry (according to what hath been said) but besides, the Muscles of its Throat do so dispose themselves, that it makes at the same time a like cry, and this new cry striking the Brain of that, which cried first, causeth the spirit to flow into the Muscles, which serve to carry it toward the second; so that they sooner meet, and may, according to the causes of the cry, that made them approach, draw from one another what may contribute to their conservation.  
I very well know, that this necessity of forming cries or voices like those, that have struck the Ears, is not so universal, that it must so fall out always; and that there are two cases, wherein it happens otherwise even in Brutes.  
The first is, when that Creature, whose Ear is struck, and whose Brain is agitated by a Cry, is not of the same kind with that which maketh the Cry. For we know, by what hath been above delivered, not only that the dispositions of the parts, which form the voice in Animals of different species, being altogether different, that cannot come to pass, but also, that what is the cause why a Brute makes a cry like that which is made by another of its own kind, is only that they may the sooner come together in cases of need, which they may stand in of one another.  
The other is, that it may often happen, even among Animals of the same kind, that the Brain of the one is moved by the Voice or Cry of the other after such a manner, that it shall be more beneficial for that creature, whose Brain hath been moved by that cry, to have the spirits flow into other Muscles, than those which serve to make a like voice. For example, if a Cock makes that noise he useth to make, when he meets with a grain of corn, it may be, that that noise striking the ears of the Hens, will shake their Brain in such a manner, as shall make them run to the place where that grain is, without forming a voice like that which made them come thither: As also it may happen, that one Animal cries so, on the occasion of a dangerous object, as that it maketh all the other of the same species run away, without forming any cry like it. But as often as a Brute is not pressed by such necessities, which do always strongliest determine the course of the spirit in its Body, when its ear is struck by a Cry; that communication betwixt the Ears and the Larinx maketh, that from the same place, where the Nerves of the Ear have made a motion in its Brain, the spirits do necessarily flow into the Muscles of the Larinx, which disposing it in such a way, as is suitable to the impression of the Brain do make the Animal form a cry altogether like it.  
Thence it comes, that Birds excite one another to sing: And in short, this commerce between the Nerves of the Ear, and those of the parts serving for the voice, is in general so much the cause of the noise, which most Brutes make, that (provided they are not in any urgent need) when their ears are excited by some noise, the impression it makes in their Brain, causes the spirits, that are not diverted another way, take their course to the Larinx to dispose it to make a like noise. And as the noise which hath shaken their Brain, cannot always be imitated by the voices, which they are capable to make according to the natural conformation of their Throat, they often return such as are very differing. Hence it is, that Musical Instruments excite Birds to sing, yet their songs are so different from all that is played on such Instruments. But to show, that that proceeds only from the little conformity there is between those Instruments and the disposition of the Throat of the Bird, which hinders the imitation, we find that as often as there is a proportion between their throat, and the voices that strike their Ears, they fail not to form at length such as are like them.  
Thus Linets learn in time the note of Nightingales, the songs of other Birds, and what ever is played on Instruments; and they learn even, as Parrots, to pronounce some of our words, because they have the Tongue and Beak disposed to articulate them. If they be long in learning the songs of other Birds, or our words, 'tis because the Nerves, which communicate from their ears to the muscles of their Throat, Tongue, and Beak, cannot be so soon adjusted to those new ways of voices, as to cause their formation presently; but it appears at last, that from the time that those parts are capable to form those voices, they do actually utter them.  
And we ought above all things to observe, that the change which happens in them when they learn, is, that their Brain being divers times struck in the same place by the same Songs, or the same Words, the impression thereof remains so strong in that place, that the spirits which thence issue to flow into the muscles of their Throat, Tongue and Beak, do at last dispose them to repeat those songs or words.  
It is likewise to be well observed, that they never return the songs and words they have learned, but when they are in no such need, which diverts their spirits another way; and if in those necessities they form a cry or voice, 'tis ever the cry or voice of their kind; so that they form not strange songs, nor utter human words, but when they want nothing, and when the spirits, abounding or much heated, run, without any diversion to their course, from the place of the brain, which those songs or words have most agitated, to the parts that serve for the voice; except great care have been taken to give them none of the food they needed, but at the time when some body did sing or speak near them: for then the presence of the food does not fail to excite them to repeat the same songs or words.  
And to understand this well, we must conceive, that Brutes learn their cry from others of their kind, and that ordinarily the food is the cause of it. For their young ones, having at the same time their Ears struck by the cries, always made by their Dams at the presence of some food, which they have not yet the possession of, and their Eyes also struck by that food itself; it must come to pass, that the place of their brain which always receives those two agitations at once, gets thence in time such an impression made in it, that the spirits taking their course from that place to the throat and the muscles serving for the voice, must needs dispose them after such a manner, as answering to the impression of the brain, causeth those young ones to make a cry like that of their Dam.  
But when they are brought up by men, and when Linets, for example, are bred in a Cage, and that instead of the cry of their Dam, it happens, that in the presence of the food, certain strange songs or humane words strike their ears; 'tis no wonder if those words or songs (making impression in the same place of the brain, whence that food should have made the spirits to flow into the muscles of the throat and beak, to cause them to make the noise, which birds make at the presence of a food they hold not yet,) are cause that the spirits being otherwise directed, do also otherwise dispose the muscles of the throat, tongue and beak, of those young Birds, and make them sing songs and utter words instead of the cry, which they would have formed, if their Dam had bred them: This must needs so happen; and even those songs or words may then be called their natural cry or song, because having always accompanied an action, that hath made so deep an Impression on their brain, it cannot be, that that action should move their brain, and the spirits should not also flow presently to the muscles, which serve for that song or those words. And likewise, if they have been put in a certain condition, or in a certain place to make them learn the better, they will sooner repeat what they have been taught, if they be put again in the same condition and place, than in any other.  
'Tis easy also to understand, why it hath sometimes happened, that a great noise, as that of a Trumpet, having at one blow shaken altogether the ear of a Bird, hath made so strong an Impression in his brain, that having struck out all the others, the spirits have no more diffused themselves towards his throat, than in such a manner, as might dispose the muscles of the Larinx to return sounds altogether like that of a Trumpet: And we must not wonder, if the passages, through which those spirits flow to the throat, being more difficult to be moved, than the brain to be shaken, the Bird remains sometimes in a kind of silence for many days, before he renders that sound; nor also, if that silence be perpetual, when the parts, which serve for the voice, are not capable to form a like one to the sound, which hath so strongly moved the Brain.  
In short, there is no intelligent man, who after this discourse sees not, why an Animal being born deaf, must needs be dumb.  
From all which it results with sufficient evidence to a considering Man, first, That 'tis the Lungs and the structure of the Windpipe, the mouth, the , the teeth, and the muscles of all those parts, which by receiving and repelling, or in diversely modifying the Air, is the cause, enabling us to form Voices, and to articulate them.  
Secondly, That 'tis by reason of the communication, which is between the brains and the other parts of the body of every Animal, that it is diversely agitated by those Voices.  
Thirdly, That in every Animal, capable to form Voices, there is such a commerce from the ear to the brain, and from the brain to all the parts serving for the voice, that the same voice which shakes the brain by the intervention of the ear, disposeth it also to diffuse the spirits into the muscles of those parts; which spirits putting them into a posture answerable to the manner in which that voice did strike the brain, make them form a voice altogether like it, if some pressing necessity of the Animal diverts not the course of the spirits to another place.  
Which being once well understood, it will be easy to know a thousand things, which commonly enough are not known touching the different effects of the cry and noise of Animals; which I mean not to explain more particularly, because that all those, who have attention enough to conceive the few principles, which I have laid down, will from thence draw all what is necessary to explain it, and because those that are not capable of such an attention, would not conceive what I could say of it even in a more particular discourse.  
I shall only stay to consider here, that according to these Principles, Brutes need no Soul to cry, or to be moved by cries. For if they be touched in any place, or their nerves struck with force enough to cause a great shake in their Brain, 'tis sufficiently easy to conceive, that that action agitating the spirits, these must flow much more swiftly into the muscles, and by this means the swiftness of those that run incessantly to the heart, augmenting, must render the pulses thereof more precipitate; which maketh it propel so great a plenty of blood into the Artery of the Lungs, that this Artery being more distended than ordinarily, presseth the Windpipe, and maketh the air to be driven out of the Lungs with an impetuosity answerable to that, whereby the blood entered there.  
The second effect of this quick agitation of the spirits is, that at the same time they flow to the heart, some of them diffuse themselves also to all the other muscles that are in a continual action, as those of the breast; because, whereas the passages, through which the spirits are conveyed in those sorts of muscles, are always open by reason of the necessity of their continual action, the spirits cannot receive a new motion without presently communicating it to those Muscles: which causeth those of the Diaphragme and Breast press the Breast in such a manner, as makes the air issue out with unusual force; and seeing the muscles of the Larinx are also strongly agitated, the air thence getting out is beaten in a manner, which holds somewhat of that agitation.  
Thus it may be conceived from the sole disposition of the Body, why a Brute cries: And to know how it may be moved by cries without having a Soul, you need but remember the communion there is between the brain, the parts serving for the voice, and all the parts of the body. For, if according to the difference of cries, the brains are diversely moved, and if following that diversity of the shake of the brain, the body is diversely carried, we need go no further than their bodies, for a cause, why Brutes of one and the same kind are moved to come to one another by the cries they make, and why their cries often drive away those of another kind. If we consider only that they have a body so mechanically disposed, that the sole structure of it may be the cause that 'tis carried to such Objects, as may be good for them, and from such as may hurt them; me thinks, that how wonderful soever their motions may seem to us, we cannot rationally impute them, and particularly their cries, but to the construction of their bodies; since, if we heed it well, we shall find in ourselves, that the cries are not made but by the body alone. For indeed, if we cry, 'tis not because we have a Soul, but because we have Lungs and other parts, which can receive and force out the air with certain modifications.  
Likewise, if the Nerves of our Ears be moved by a voice, that is, by an air, which other bodies have agitated so, as that our brain shaken thereby, diffuseth spirits into the muscles of all the parts, whose motion can form a voice like that which moved it, that is, repel the air in a manner answerable to that which hath shaken it, it is upon no other account but that of our having a Body.  
Lastly, if our brain, when 'tis shaken by a noise or voice, sends the spirits rather into the muscles, that serve to carry our body near to or far from those which caused that Noise, than into the muscles of the Larinx or of the other parts, serving to form a like voice, it is because we have a Body. So that, if ●here be nothing found in Brutes but ●he like effects, we cannot rationally ●ay, that they have aught else but Body.  
But as for Us, we must avow (whatever we ascribe to our bodies in what regards the causes and effects of ●he voice) there is always somewhat accompanying them, which cannot be ●rom the Soul. For as 'tis true (to speak ●n general) that it would be sufficient ●o have motions, for which our body ●s fit, and to receive the effects which ●re wrought upon it by the various objects, that agitate the brain thereof, to conserve our body, for as much as the proportion and relation God hath put betwixt it and the other bodies of the ●orld, gives it, without our thinking on't, all what can maintain it in a condition suitable to its nature: So 'tis true also to say, that all that would be acted in us, and yet we perceive nothing of it, if we had nothing but the Body. But now, reflecting on what happens to us, when some noise strikes the nerves of our ear, we shall plainly find, that besides that shaking of the nerves of the Ear, which continuing to the very internal parts of the brain, doth there agitate the spirits, and makes them flow into the muscles, serving to move ou● whole body near to or far from tha● noise, there is always conjoined a Perception to every shake of our ear, or of the other parts of our body: And a● times we even find in us a Will altogether contrary to the motions which that noise excites in our body. And although sometimes the impetuousness of those motions be such, that we can hardly stop them in their career; yet 'tis manifest, that that contrariety would not be found in us, if what renders us capable to Will, were not differing and altogether distinct from what makes u● capable to move.  
But of those two things which we find in ourselves, besides Motion, I mean, the Perception, which we have,  the nerves of our ear are shaken; and the Will, which we have by consequent, to consent to the motion, to which our whole body is excited, or to restrain it; me thinks the latter is so evidently distinct from our body, that none but very inconsiderate persons can be without observing and knowing the distinction.  
As to the Perception, we have on the occasion of the shaking, which the voice causeth in the nerves of the ear, though it be somewhat difficult to be distinguished from that shaking, because it always accompanies it; yet 'tis easy to him, that is a little accustomed to judge of the effects by their causes, to find, that the shaking, being a motion, cannot appertain but to our Body, and that the Perception being a Thought, cannot belong but to our Soul: And as we have found by other reflections, that the Union of our Soul and Body only consists in this, that certain Thoughts are so united to certain motions, that the one are never excited without the others be so too at the same time; we ought not to wonder any more to find, that the nerves of our ear shall never be shaken, but we shall presently feel in our Soul a Sensation, or, if you will, a Perception answerable to the manner the nerves are shaken in; nor ought we to believe, that that agitation and that perception are one and the same thing, although they always accompany one another.  
We are therefore to consider two things in that we call Sound; one is the manner, in which the Air, striking the nerve of our ear, shakes our brain; and the other is the Sensation of our Soul on the occasion of that agitation of the brain. The former belongs necessarily to the Body, because 'tis nothing but a Motion; and the latter belongs necessarily to the Soul, because 'tis a Perception.  
So likewise in Speech there are two things, viz. the Formation of the voice, which cannot come but from the Body, according to what we have already discoursed; and the signification joined with it, which cannot be but from the Soul. So that Speech is nothing else but a voice, by which we signify what we think. 'Tis true, you may also (as hath been already observed above) join your thoughts to other signs besides the Voice, as to the characters of Writing, or to certain Gestures, and that indeed all those ways of expressing ourselves are nothing but ways of speaking (to take the word in a general and large sense:) But then, because the Voice is the most easy sign, the word Speech hath been appropriated to it, leaving to Characters the word of Writing, and to other ways of expressing ourselves the word Sign, which is that of the Genus, common to all those three Species'.  
It may be I have already said enough of each of them, to make them to be sufficiently distinguished; but possibly also, since I have not examined them but on the score of what they have common among themselves, it may not be useless or tedious, to speak of them apart, that it may appear wherein they differ one from another.  
And to begin with that kind, to which hath been left the name of the Genus, I mean, the Signs, we must, to comprehend in a few words what may be known of it, take notice, that some of them are natural, others, that may be called ordinary or common, and others, that may be termed particular.  
The natural ones are those, by which, because of the necessary communion, which is between the passions of the soul, and the motions of the body, we know from without the inward different states of the Soul. I have said above, that these motions are the same in all men. But yet we are to remember, that since we may purposely constrain them, or excite them at pleasure, we are not to trust them too much, nor believe that they signify always what they should signify.  
The signs, which I call ordinary, are those by which most men are wont to declare certain things, and those are merely of institution: Some are more universal, others less. E. g. When we will, without a voice, say that we consent, we give a sign with the head, quite differing from that which we make to show, we consent not: so we make certain signs with the hand to drive one away. And these kinds of signs are general enough; but those, by which we declare our respect to one another, though commonly they be the same in a whole Country, yet they are very different in another.  
The signs I call particular, are those in which a whole Nation or a whole Commonalty agrees not, but which are instituted 'twixt two persons or a few more, to signify certain things, which they would not have others to take notice of.  
As for Writing, there is none that's Natural, and 'tis by Art only, that men have found out the secret of it. As they saw, that they could make Gestures and Voices to signify  they had a mind to, so they thought, that giving significations to Characters, which the hand might form, those would be signs, which remaining for a long time after us, would make our thoughts known not only to those that should be far off, but also to them that should be born a great while after them.  
And this hath been done divers ways. At first were used such characters, whereof each signified a Thing; but this way was troublesome, forasmuch as men were to learn too many Characters, and to remember too many significations; besides that by that means there could only be signified Things, but Actions not conveniently.  
Afterwards, as it was observed, that all the diversities of Speech proceeded only from the different ways of forming Voices, or articulating them, and that Five voices only, differently articulated, or diversely assembled, did form all the words; it was thought fit, to give a Character to each of those Voices: next there were instituted Characters to mark their Articulations; and the assembling of those different characters made syllables, which being joined together did compose entire words: so that disposing those Characters in an order like that we form the voices in, or the articulations which they represent, we remember the words, and those words make us remember the things they signify. Thus we see, that writing is a way of speaking to the Eyes, which 'tis true demands more time to express, but than it lasts also much longer.  
It hath likewise this other defect, that few persons can see at the same time the Thoughts of him that useth it; but since that is made up by this admirable advantage, of being able to signify the thoughts of the Writer, notwithstanding the distance of places and times; it hath always seemed so great a convenience, that in seeking to supply what is wanted, men have at last found the Art of Printing, that is, of making Characters of metal or wood, which being once ranged, and charged with ink or colour, can mark all the leaves, needful to gratify many to read at the same time and in divers places the same thing.  
I do not discourse here, that there are ways of writing, that are ordinary, and others, called Cifers, which are peculiar to certain people: Neither do I recite the way of expressing Numbers upon paper by characters that bear most commonly the name of Cifers; nor that of expressing Sounds by other characters called Notes: For all that is sufficiently understood of itself.  
As to the way of expressing ones-self by the Voice, to which principally hath been given the name of Speech, we may say, that there are Voices natural; as those that are put forth in Grief, in Joy, and in the other passions. But (as I have already said of Signs natural) we must not always trust those voices, and they be often strained, or used to make others believe, that we resent what indeed we resent not.  
There are other Voices, which men make use of to express to one another their thoughts: Some are more univerversally received, as those are which compose the Language of a whole People, others are more particular, used by persons, that agree amongst themselves of words altogether new to signify their thoughts.  
I have already taken notice, how we begin to speak when we are little Children; how one may learn a new Language; and if there be any thing left to be said on this subject, it will be to consider in this place, how he that learns a new Language may turn it into a habit.  
For that, we are to observe, that we join from the time of the first Language we learn, the Idea (or image) of a thing to the sound of a word; which is entirely upon the score of the Soul. For the sensation, called Sound, and the Image of the thing, made to be signified thereby, are all from the Soul, as we have already made out. From the Body's part there is a motion of the spirits and brain, which every voice excites, and an Impression, which every thing leaves there: But that motion is always joined to that Impression, as the Perception of every sound is always joined in the Soul with the particular image of this or that thing; so that when we will express the Idea of that thing, we conceive at the same time the sound of the voice, which signifies it: then, on the occasion of that Idea, and of the Will which the Soul hath, that the brain should duly dispose itself to diffuse the spirits into the parts, which are to form it; it comes to pass, that it is shaken at the place where the impression of that thing did remain, from whence the spirits flow into the muscles of the parts, which serve for the voice, to dispose them to form that which signifies what we have a mind to say: And as we have learned to join all those things from our Birth that conjunction follows so close the will we have to speak, that we imagine that what is so readily done, must needs be much more simple; and since we see not any Engine much composed, but it performs its effects with much difficulty, we can scarce believe, seeing the facility there is in speaking, that there should need so many parts to be acted for that purpose: But we must accustom ourselves by admiring the structure of our Body, to consider that 'tis made by an incomparable Workman, who is inimitable. Besides, if we are convinced, that the Union of the Body and Soul proceeds only from the perfect correspondence, which God hath established between the different changes of the brain, and the different thoughts of the Soul; we ought not to wonder, that the one acts so easily upon the other, and that their actions do always accompany one another so well, as long as God Almighty preserves their Union.  
But in regard that this is one of the most important verities, that can fall under consideration, it will not be amiss, for the opening of all the difficulties thereof, to observe, that there are three kinds of Correspondencies between the Soul and the Body.  
The first is natural, and th●t is that necessary correspondence, by which certain sensations rise always in the Soul, when certain motions are excited in the brain; as motions are excited in the Body, when the Soul hath a will to it. And this correspondence cannot absolutely cease but with our life, and that which wholly changes it, causeth death.  
Besides this, there is a second Correspondence 'twixt the Ideas the Soul hath of things, and the Impressions which those things leave in the brain. This correspondence, no more than the first, cannot change altogether; and whilst the Soul is united to the Body, she never has the idea of things corporeal, but their impression is in the brain.  
But there is a third correspondence between the Name of every thing and its Idea, which being only by Institution, may be changed: but yet, in regard the sound of the first name, men give to a thing, is a sensation, which the Soul strictly joins to the Idea of that thing; and since also the impression of that name is found joined to that of the thing in the brain, we find it a trouble to sever them: Whence it is, that when we begin to learn a Language, we commonly explain by the first word, by which we named a thing, the new word, by which we intent to understand it in the tongue, we are learning.  
And there are even such, whose brain is so disposed, that when they learn a new Language, they always join to the words of that, which they already know, the words of the second, to represent to themselves what they signify.  
Others, that have another disposition of the brain, do so easily join the sound of a new word in itself to the Idea of the thing, that that Idea is equally represented to them by the two words, and they not obliged to think on the one to understand the other.  
Thus one may so well join one and the same thought to many signs, and to words of different Languages, that one may with an equal facility use both to express it: But with a very little consideration we may easily judge, by the pains we find in the beginning, to join the words of a new Tongue to the Image of every thing; by the necessity we are in, to join the image of a new word to that of an old, which made it to be understood; and even by the pains we experience in pronouncing those we learn, that Speech indeed depends upon the relation and correspondency of many things, and that, if afterwards it becomes easy, 'tis only from the excellent composition of the brain, and the admirable, commerce between its motions and our thoughts.  
For the rest, me thinks, if the Soul is obliged, whilst she is united to the Body, to join her thoughts to words, which cannot be heard nor formed without the organs of the tongue and the ear; She might, if that union ceased, much more easily discover to every other Spirit what she did think. And truly if it be a pain to him that examines it, to conceive, How the thought of a man that speaks is joined to the motion of his brain, and the motions of his brain to those of the parts serving for the Voice; if it be difficult to comprehend, How that Voice, which is nothing but Air agitated, strikes the ear, and is able by moving the brain to excite in his soul, that hears the sound of the words, the Idea of the things signified by them; if that, I say, is so hard to conceive, because we know, there is so strange a difference between the nature of the Spirit and that of the Body, we cannot but easily comprehend, that if two Spirits were not united to Bodies, they would find less difficulty to discover to one another their thoughts, in regard there is naturally much more proportion between the thoughts of two like Spirits, than between the thoughts and the motions of two Bodies; and upon the least reflection made on the facility and clearness, with which one man conceives the thoughts of another by Speech, we shall avow, that a Soul might incomparably more clearly and more easily conceive the thoughts of another Spirit, if both of them depended not from the organs of the Body. For a spirit sure should more easily apprehend a thought which is a thing spiritual, than the sign of that thought, signs being things Corporeal.  
Thus I esteem, that 'tis much more natural for spirits to manifest or to communicate to one another their thoughts in themselves, and without any signs, than to speak to one another, that is, to communicate their thoughts by signs, that are of a nature so different from that of Thoughts: The pains also which every one finds in conversation, and on all occasions where men impart their thoughts by signs or speech, is not to comprehend what another thinketh, but to extricate his Thought from the signs or words, which often agree not with it.  
'Tis also the ignorance of the signs and words, that is the cause, why men, bred in different Countries, are a long while together without being able to understand one another: But as soon as acquaintance hath afforded them all what's requisite, readily to unfold what every sign or word means, they find no more trouble to conceive their thoughts, of how different Nations soever they be. Which evidently shows, that men understand one another naturally; that the thought of one is always clear to another, as soon as he can perceive it; and that, if there be men, who conceive better than others what is said, that facility of understanding comes from the structure of their brain, which being so disposed, as that the impressions, I have spoken of, are there more easily received, better ranged, and more distinctly marked, makes the thoughts, answering thereto, to be also more easy, more consequent and more clear; whereas those who want that good conformation and disposition of the brain, must needs be slower in conceiving, by reason of that necessary correspondence and relation between the motions of the Brain and the thoughts of the Soul, whilst she remains united to the Body: But who seethe not, that that entanglement would cease, if the Soul were separated from the Body?  
'Tis also from the Fabric of the brain and the other parts serving for the Voice, that the facility or difficulty of the expression comes, and the pain, that some have to speak, proceeds only from hence, that the parts of their brain, which answer to the thoughts of the soul, or those that serve for the Voice, are ill disposed; but not from their Thoughts, which always explain themselves clearly by themselves, and would never be obscure, if they were severed from the signs, or the Voices, employed to make them to be understood, and often not agreeing with them.  
In short, that indispensable necessity, men are in, during life, to express themselves by words, is the cause that those, who naturally have their Brain better disposed in what may serve for the operations of the Soul; who have more vivid impressions of every thing; who know to range them better, and who are accustomed to express them in the most proper words; are always those, that speak with most ease, the greatest agreeableness, and the best success: insomuch that if one will search well after the physical causes of Eloquence, they will be all found in that happy disposition of the Brain.  
We know, that the first part of an excellent Orator is, to be able, easily to discern among all the things, that offer themselves to his Mind upon the subject he is to treat of, what his Auditors are to know thereof; to the end that he may precisely tell them nothing but that; and 'tis evident, that unless he have a Brain disposed to keep the impressions of every of those particulars very distinct, he cannot make that due discernment of them.  
The second consists in the well ranging of all what is able to make the things, he designs to express, to be understood; so as what is the most simple, the most clear, and the first in the order of nature, may serve for a Light to clear up what follows, which of itself might be more obscure: And that cannot be, when the parts of the Brain are ill disposed, or the course of the Spirits ill regulated; for then the impressions of the things confounding themselves, often present to the mind at first, what ought not to be proposed but at last; or else they are stirred with so much precipitation, that the mind can neither reflect upon the order of every one, nor put it in its due place.  
The third is, to know well, and to find easily the word, by which each thing is properly signified in the Language, he useth; and that depends from the Memory, which cannot be so faithful as it ought to be, unless the parts of the Brain be so well-ordered and in such a temper, as keeps the impressions from confounding themselves, and the ideas of one word from presenting themselves, when he seeks for another.  
These are the three things, that are absolutely necessary in the design of Instructing, which is only the first part of Eloquence and these three things require a Brain of parts well ordered and stayed and a Course of Spirits very well regulated; which, if there were no more required, is very difficult to find.  
But then, when we come to consider, that for the other part of Eloquence, which tends to move, we must know the Passions of the Auditors, and their springs, in order to strengthen or to change them, according as shall be requisite for the end aimed at; and that the greatest secret, well to express a Passion to excite the same in others, is to feel it in ourselves: we are obliged to confess, that for the good success therein, it seems that the parts of the Brain cannot be agitated enough, nor the Course of the Spirits be too impetuous.  
'Tis true, if we did speak to people, that were only subject to Error, and not to Passions, it would suffice to speak the things in order, to explain them clearly, and to prove them in order to persuade the Auditors of them; and for that purpose it would be sufficient, to have the parts of the Brain well ordered, and a temper not to be easily moved.  
But commonly we speak to persons, who besides Errors are so subject to Passions, that they are not persuaded, except you be equally furnished with what is requisite to instruct, and to move; and these two things depend from two dispositions so opposite, that 'tis hard to find men furnished with Brains so tempered and adjusted, as to afford both those perfections together.  
We find also, that generally all those that are fit to instruct have a coolness, which makes them languid when they will move; and on the other hand, that those who are very apt to move, have a fire in them, which maketh that the Auditors cannot conceive, but with difficulty, what they say to instruct; Whereunto the Example which Cicero in one of his Discourses relates of two Orators, agrees admirably well. He saith, that one of them was furnished with a great clearness of mind, but was of a cold temper; and seeing that he had twice tried to get some accused persons quitted, without being able to make the judges resolve for it, though he had perfectly instructed them; he besought the other, whose genius was altogether different, to speak on their behalf; which succeeded wonderfully well: And Cicero observeth, that that vehement Orator, seeing there remained no more for him but to move the Judges already instructed, composed himself some hours before he went to the Audience, to speak of that matter in a private room with so much heat, that he was already in a sweat, when he came before the Judges, whom he constrained, by the vehemency of his action, to grant him what the first could not obtain of them by the strength of his reasons.  
As often as I think on this case, I cannot but admire the advantages, which the Relator of it had in both the parts of Eloquence; and though I look upon him as the Pattern, which all those that mean to prosper in this Art, aught to propose to themselves, I avow, that he appears to me inimitable. But he may serve as an Example to show, that one and the same person may render himself capable to move and to instruct. I say, render himself capable; for I think not, that one may be born fit for both these things, if we consider only, what we naturally find in every one; and I think that of the two Talents, which serve to make a man perfectly eloquent, there is one that may be supplied by study, when ●he other is in our nature; but this is not reciprocal.  
And the better to examine this difficulty, we are to observe, that those who have a lively conception, have commonly the Passions violent, because they have all the parts of the brain very subtle and exceeding movable; but ordinarily they have but little memory, and if they find things easily, they remember them difficultly. On the contrary, those that have the parts of the brain grosser and more fixed, conceive things less and less easily; on the other hand, their passions are not so prompt; but for a recompense, they retain longer both things and passions.  
But 'tis easy to see, that this latter sort is capable to speak, when the business is only to instruct; but if the spirits of men are to be managed, and not to be informed of certain things till they have been inspired with certain passions those latter will never get their end. And if sometimes by virtue of observing other Orators, or by reading their Works, or by hearing them, they find out their Dexterities; they cannot imitate them but in copying them in subjects altogether resembling those which such Orators have handled, without ever producing any thing matching the Original And even sometimes, for as much as the Memory is all their excellency and strength, they borrow the very words of those, whom they copy, and often they name their Authors to add some weight to the things, which they commonly deliver so little to purpose, and always so frigidly, that they would be intolerable, if they were not supported by some names in veneration among Great men.  
Orators of this sort may exercise themselves long enough; they will never arrive higher than to be Copyists of some one entire piece; but they will never gain the dexterity to reunite many strokes of different Desseins, much less that of making new ones.  
Whereas those that are of a contrary temper, having a lively and quick imagination, know easily the strength and weakness in a subject; they soon discern what is to be declared, what to be hid: if they be obliged to say all, they know how to prepossess the spirits before they propose what might be prejudicial to their Party, or displease the Auditor; and when they form the dessein of their discourse, if they imitate other Orators, 'tis only as far as it agrees to their argument: And to speak truth, a Man of wit falls rather upon the thoughts of the Great Men that have been before him, because Reason suggests to him what hath been suggested to them, than because he reads their Works.  
'Tis true, that that fecondity of the mind that maketh him easily to conceive and bring forth, may be the cause, that in certain things he will be too much carried away, or dispose them ill, or also not be able to retain them; but these defects are not without remedies.  
The first may be supplied by a frequent exercise of speaking upon the subjects, in which a man finds he is wont to be most easily carried away, and by accustoming himself not to pass certain bounds which he prescribes to himself, or maketh his friends prescribe to him; and 'tis not hard to give to one self these reins, after a man once knows his propenseness to be transported.  
To remedy the second inconvenience, a man must accustom himself to marshal his thoughts, and to order them well upon all the subjects he proposeth to himself, of what nature soever; and as the way of declaring them is very different from that of conceiving them, he must, to accustom himself to speak well what he knows, often ask himself, how he would declare this or that matter, if he should be obliged thereto; in what manner he would handle the same subject before a great multitude of people, or before a less Assembly; what would be said of it, if spoken before persons of power and honour, or before his Equals; and to render this practice more useful, he is to examine when others have spoken in public, wherein 'tis they have succeeded well, & wherein been deficient; and even to endeavour, after having found the cause of their failure, to make up the same discourse better than they did; and to continue these Exercises until one's mind be accustomed well to digest all sorts of subjects.  
As to the third Inconvenience, which is that of the Memory, seeing that that cannot be defective, but in not representing to us the things, or in not furnishing us with the words; there is a remedy for the first defect, by putting the things in so natural an order, that the one must needs make you remember the other by the connexion they have together; and then, after a man hath formed the dessein, and ordered all the parts of a discourse, he must often revolve and repeat it with himself, to be accustomed to it.  
For the Words, we are not to fear their easy occurring to us for speech, when the matters are present to our Mind, if so be we are accustomed to speak. And for that purpose, a man must impose upon himself the necessity of speaking upon all sorts of subjects, accustom himself, by writing, to vary and turn them every way, and always to choose the most difficult or the most abstract matters. For when by the force of searchng a man can find ways to make those things to be understood, he hath almost no difficulty to find words and expressions in all other subjects, that are more ordinary, and which the various necessity of Life render more common.  
After we have thus examined, How much Eloquence depends from men's Temper, and how that may be corrected or perfected by Exercise; it will not be amiss to consider, That there is no greater Enemy to true Eloquence, than Lying: And as Eloquence is a means not only to express what we think, but also to oblige others to think as we do, it ought never to be employed but to manifest Truth, or to make it to be embraced and followed; and he that employs it to excite in others unjust sentiments, or to make them believe things that are false, commits the most heinous of all treacheries. For tell me, I pray, if human society be not entertained but by Speech, is it not a violation of the most sacred right that is amongst men, to employ, for the leading of them into error, or for persuading them to evil, such endowments as aught to serve only to make them know what's true or just? If this were seriously thought on, there would be much more sincerity; especially when men speak in public, where the least disguises may draw after them very dangerous consequences For the rest, me thinks, that to make us accustom ourselves to speak nothing but truth, 'tis a powerful motive, often to represent to ourselves that we have not the facility to express ourselves, but because God Almighty, to whom we own our thoughts and the motions of our tongue, is very willing to excite the one, when we will make known the other. Me thinks, 'tis in a manner impossible for one, that makes often this reflection, to lie. For, I pray, if we be convinced, that God is not subject to error, nor to a lie, nor to any iniquity, which always follows it so close; how can we employ Signs and Voices, which are not formed but by his power to do that, which displeaseth him most? I admire, that a Heathen came to know this truth so far, as to say, That no man could be eloquent, except he were honest; and that we should have such contrary sentiments.  
But not to mix here Morality farther than 'tis suitable to a Discouse of Natural Philosophy, it will be to our purpose to examine in this place, whence it is, that not only an Orator ought to be a man of integrity, but also that he cannot be perfectly eloquent, unless he be so? And this is not hard to conceive: for, if it be agreed on, that to be perfectly eloquent, a man must know the Art to instruct his Auditors, and that of raising or allaying Passions, according as it shall conduce to the end, that is proposed; we must also agree in this, that an Orator, that speaks the contrary to what he knows, will not so easily find words to express it, as if he spoke the truth; and if to avoid mistaking, he studies what he is to say, it must be acknowleged, that his Discourse, which will be but a piece of Memory, can never have that grace nor force, which is found in that of a person, who having learned to speak well, and speaking what he thinks, fears not, he should mistake.  
Again, it must be granted, that if he, that is not an honest man, will excite in others the motions and passions, which really are not in himself, 'twill always go off coldly, to express passions studied; and if, to surmount the effect of that constraint, which appears when a man will refrain his own motions to fain others, he will blot out all the strokes and the little motions, by which his Countenance, Eyes, and Gesture would show the contrary to what his Words do express, he must so exceedingly strain, that not only he loses the grace, without which a man cannot please nor persuade, but also renders himself odious, and is so far from exciting in others the motions which he hath not in himself, that he begets horror in all those, who persuade themselves, that he indeed feels the violence of the passions, wherewith he appears to be moved.  
In a word, 'tis evident, that there is naturally such a relation between the Sentiments of men, and the Signs and Words used to express them, that one and the same person can never tell a Lie so gracefully as a Truth: And as a man cannot be very eloquent, when he constrains to say what he doth not think, or to express what he feels not; 'tis impossible to be very eloquent, unless one be very sincere and honest, seeing it belongs only to a man of integrity to speak nakedly what he thinks; his motions are so just, that he needs not to put on any constraint; besides, the Truth, which accompanies all his words, and that love of Justice, which animates all his motions, give so much weight and grace to his action, that 'tis in a manner impossible to resist it; and which is the chief, we are easily carried away by the motions of a man, whom we believe to be Virtuous: and when he, that speaks, hath the advantage of exciting in others the same passions which himself resents, as he is soon master of their thoughts, so he soon renders their judgement  to what he aims at. And since we see, that those, whom a like disposition of body maketh liable to the like motions, have ordinarily the same sentiments about the same things, we may justly believe, that the fairest means to gain others to the same opinion with ours, is to raise motions in them altogether like ours. For indeed (which particular cannot be too often repeated) as long as our Souls remain united to our Bodies, all our motions will be so consonant with our sentiments, that we shall never be able to inspire the one but by the other.  
This reflection maketh me think, that as we can conceive Spirits not united to Bodies, if there be eloquence amongst them, that cannot be by the means of Motions, because they are not capable of them: But supposing, that those Spirits are in that state of liberty, wherein they can determine themselves to this or that thing, 'tis easy to conceive, that if one of them, being more enlightened than others, hath a passion for a thing, which a mere spirit is capable to have a passion for, (as for example, for his own glory) he may put his thoughts, which he shall manifest to others upon that subject, into an order which shall appear so excellent, that it shall excite in some the same passion which he resents; and on the other hand (to keep to the same example) a Spirit yet more illuminated and better inclined than the former, may make those, who might have fallen into that error, to conceive, that, whereas that Glory can appertain to none but the Sovereign Power, 'tis a folly for any one to pretend to it, when he is not God.  
It might after the same manner be conceived, how mere spirits might inspire one another with divers sentiments touching all such things for which they were capable to have passions, supposing (as hath been said) that they were in a state of choosing one of two.  
But to draw from this notion no more than may serve for my intent, it is to be considered, that if for speaking a man needs the motion of the parts that serve for the voice, and if for hearing there is need of the agitation of the parts, that serve for Hearing; there needs nothing between two Spirits, to communicate their thoughts to one another, but to will it: And since we find, that the thought of one man is easily understood by another, from the time that the first hath spoken, that is, from the time that by the motions, which serve to beat the Air, he hath moved the Ear of him, to whom he will have his thought known; 'tis also easy to apprehend, that if two Spirits, who depend not from the Body in their operations, will discover to one another their thoughts, they have nothing to do but to will it: There is, me thinks, much less difficulty to conceiv the one than the other (as I have already observed:) For in Speech there are two things, viz. the Will to communicate one's thoughts, and the Motions by which they are communicated; but those Motions have so little affinity, in themselves, to the thoughts, that it seems very strange, how a thought can be so well united to a motion, as that the one should be an occasion to know the other; whereas in the manifestation, which two Spirits make to one another of their thoughts, there needs nothing but the Will to communicate them; and Spirits being of one and the same nature, 'tis evident that one Thought may much easier be the occasion of another thought, than Motion.  
But next, what hath been said of the Communication of two mere Spirits, aught to be said of the commerce that may be betwixt a Spirit united to a Body, and one that is not. For certainly what incapacitates two men to communicate their thoughts to one another without motions, is, that they have Bodies, and that the one cannot be advertised by the other but by the motions occasioned by the Body, to which the Soul is united: But supposing that one of the Spirits have no Body, it is capable to render itself present by its very thoughts to that which hath a Body, as it doth to that which is destitute of a Body; and reciprocally that Spirit, which is united to a Body, will be able, without the intervention of the Voice, to express its thoughts to every Spirit that is Bodyless.  
Mean time we are so accustomed to judge of all things, by those we see, that since men make use of a voice, and very easily understand one another, we rashly judge, that it would be very difficult to two Spirits mutually to communicate their thoughts: And some judge it even impossible, that a Spirit, destitute of Body (for example, an Angel) should communicate with Us. But 'tis evident, that that proceeds only from the precipitation of our Spirit, who maketh no reflection on what befalls him in the communication, he hath with the spirit of another Man. For if he did consider, that the beating of the Air, and the other things, which serve to make him understand the thoughts of the person that discourses with him, have nothing in them resembling those thoughts; he would more wonder, that he understands him, than he wonders, when one will persuade him, that two Angels speak to one another, or that even one Angel can converse with Us, without the assistance of a voice.  
I cannot in this place forbear to take notice, how much the reflection, we make on what passeth within us, is capable to make us judge aright of what is done, or at least may be done elsewhere. And the Example I draw from the manner, after which we converse with men, is so proper to make it to be conceived, what might pass betwixt Spirits destitute of such Bodies as we have, and even between those Spirits and Us, that, the thing being well examined, there will be found no other difference between those two sorts of Communications, but that that, which is between Man and Man, will prove the more difficult to conceive, in regard it is made by the means of Motions, which are quite different from Thoughts, whereas that, which we may have with mere Spirits, is less sensible, because 'tis performed without any of those motions, which render as 'twere sensible to us the thoughts of the men, whose voice striketh our Ears.  
And this may be also the cause, why we are informed, that when Spirits would give any important advertisements to Men, they borrowed Bodies, and formed Voices like those of Men. But those Extraordinary things are not to hinder us from conceiving, that naturally we can communicate with mere Spirits more easily than with Men. So that if Faith teaches us, there are Spirits not united to Bodies, and that he, who hath created them as he hath us, having committed to them the care of conducting us, they are always present to our Spirit to direct it without constraining it; there is nothing in that, which is above those things, we think we know best. For in short, as we conceive, that the communication between two Men is made by Speech, that is, by a Will to express what they think, and by the motions answering to that will, we may also, me thinks, conceive, that the converse of two Spirits may be made by the sole Will of manifesting themselves to one another; and that if a mere Spirit communeth with a Man, though that be in a way less sensible than is that of ordinary Words, yet 'tis after a manner intelligible, which may insensibly give him the thoughts, he needs for his conduct; which in a word, is, to inspire him. Even so may we easily conceive, that God, who causeth our Spirits to move Bodies, can (if need be) give to an Angel the same power to make himself to be understood by speech.  
Now, me things, I see, what is properly meant by the word Inspiration; and I believe, I am not deceived, when I say, that 'tis by that means only, that those thoughts may come into our mind, which have no affinity to any of those, that naturally are in our Soul, only because we have a Body.  
Next, I see, that we know no more the Spirits of any of all those men, that speak to us, when they inspire us with their thoughts, than those mere Spirits, which I think capable to inspire us better thoughts. And as the new thoughts, which come into our mind by the conversation we have with men, are a sure testimony to any of us, that they have a Spirit like ours, we are to take the new thoughts coming in to us (without being able to find the cause of them in ourselves, or impute it to the discourse of men) for an assured testimony, that there are yet other Spirits, that may inspire us with them.  
I find also, that the custom of understanding the thoughts of other men by gestures and the voice, maketh that way to affect us more, than the things, which are inspired us without it. But if I heed it well, I see, that we do not more know the ●●●rits of me● th' t speak to us, than thespirits th● 〈…〉 us. A like Air, t● 〈◊〉 out b● 〈…〉 ●●s of him, that discourses w●●h ●s, striking our ears, exciteth, upon the agitation of the Brain, sounds in our Soul, and at the same time the images or conceptions which we have joined to those sounds: But in truth, neither that propelled Air, nor any thing of what passeth into the Body from him that speaks to us, is his thought; and if we have any reason to believe him to have thoughts, 'tis only because we feel, that he excites new ones in us. But if all the reason, we have to believe, there are Spirits united to the Bodies of the men that speak to us, is, that they give us often new thoughts, such as we had not, or that they oblige us to alter those we had; can we doubt, when new thoughts come into us, that are above our natural light, and contrary to the sentiments which the Body may excite in us, can we, I say, when no men inspire us with them, doubt of their being inspired us by other Spirits? I judge, we cannot reasonably; and the custom, we have to receive them by the means of Speech, which is a sensible way, ought not to make us disadvow those, that are inspired us by a way different from that of the senses.  
I know also, that if we be free to hid our thoughts, whilst our Soul is united to a Body, we might have the same liberty, if it were separated from it; and that in some manner that freedom would yet be greater, in regard that often when we speak to a person, the signs and the voices, by which we express ourselves, may be perceived or understood by a Third, to whom we would not discover our thoughts; whereas a pure Spirit, who is not obliged to make use of those external signs, can manifest his thoughts to the Spirit he will inform, so as no other shall know of it.  
In effect, in that state we now are in of discovering our thoughts, we do nothing else but to Will; and although that Will be joined to motions, which fail not to be in certain parts of our body as soon as we need it for the signifying our thoughts; yet notwithstanding our souls are not the cause of those motions (according to what we shown in our 4th Discourse 
* In his book entitled, Le Discernement du Corpse & de l' Ame. ) and they do nothing else to express themselves but to Will, so that as long as they are united to our Bodies, we cannot express the thoughts coming into our mind but by moving the Tongue, the Throat and the Mouth; this necessity is imposed on us by that union: But as soon as there should be no such necessity to borrow motions for expressing what we think, there would need no more to make other Spirits understand it, but to will that they should understand; and if we would have it hid from them, there would need no more than not to will that they should know it.  
I have elsewhere delivered the reasons, by which it appears, that all the action of the Soul consists in willing, and I think I have sufficiently made it out, that all what depends from Her, is, to determine herself to one thing or another, so as I shall not need here to repeat any thing of what I have said on that subject: But it will not be amiss to take notice in this place, that although God do not make us conceive, what is the substance of our Spirits, nor how they will, that is, how they determine themselves; yet we know clearly, that we have a Spirit, and that our Spirit hath the power of determining itself. But now, as we are assured, that we speak not our thoughts but when we please, we ought to believe, that if we were in a state to need signs and voices no more, we might then by our Will alone discover or hid our thoughts.  
We are also to remember, that 'tis not more difficult to conceive, that then we should make our thoughts to be apprehended by other Spirits, than to conceive, that the spirit of another man should apprehend, in the present state, what we think, when we express it by voice or by signs.  
For the rest, when I say, that Souls emancipated from the Body might hid or manifest their thoughts to one another; that is to be understood, if they had the same reason to hid their thoughts, they have now in the present state. But 'tis apparent, that, if they shall be happy, as they will have no thoughts but for the Glory of their Maker, so they will be glad that all the Spirits should know them; and if they for ever lose his grace, they will have only such thoughts, which being to serve to publish the effects of his justice, will be known to all the Spirits.  
Lastly, we ought to remember, that according to what I have delivered of the Action of Souls and Bodies, in the fifth Discourse of the first part, we say, that one Soul acts upon another Soul, as often as one hath new thoughts upon an occasion given by the other; even as we say, that one Body acts upon another Body, as often as one Body receives some change upon occasion afforded by the other: And as I have shown, that a Body never gives any motion to a Body, but only for as much as their meeting together is an occasion to the Divine Power, which moved one, to apply itself to the other; We are also to conceive, that when one Soul will make known to another Soul what she thinketh, that happens forasmuch as Almighty God brings it to pass, that according to the will of the one, the other comes to know it: And even as the Will we have, that our Body be moved, does not make it move, but is only an occasion to the First Power to move it after such a manner as we desire it should be moved; so the Will also, which we have, that a Spirit should know what we think, is an occasion to that Power so to order things, that all may be disposed in such a way, as that that Spirit may understand it.  
Thence it necessarily results, that 'tis as impossible for our Souls to have new perceptions without God, as 'tis impossible for the Body to have new motions without Him. And 'tis evident besides, that our Souls, which depend from Him for their Being and for their Conservation, depend not at all from Him for the Use of their Will, whereof he leaves the determination altogether free. And I dare deliver it as a thing that will appear manifest to all men of good sense, who shall attentively consider it, that as the Body is a substance, to which Extension belongs naturally, so that it would, as to effects natural, cease to be a Body, if it ceased to be extended; even so the Spirit is a substance, to which the power of determining itself doth so naturally appertain, that it would cease to be a Spirit, if it ceased to will; and God Almighty hath made it thus, that he might be loved by it. Which appears so evidently, that if he had not declared it by so many miraculous testimonies of his tenderness, which goes so far as to ask of us our Heart, that is to say, our Love; we should be altogether persuaded, that He will be the object of our Will in this World, by this only consideration, that there is no object so great, but it can embrace it.  
As to the power of knowing, perhaps he hath not given us that so great, at least not in this World. But 'tis certain, that we have knowledge enough, as not to fail, if we use well the light we have, and the power we are endowed with, of judging of nothing, but after we do well know it. For, God gives us all the ●ight we need; we have ideas very distinct, to know the things of Nature as much as 'tis useful to know them, since we can, when we use prudence, discern wherein every one is beneficial or hurtful to us: And although, according to what I have already observed, he affordeth us not the advantage to know the very substance of things, yet he so well discovers to us, wherein they can hurt ●r profit us, that to use it aright, we are ●nly to will it.  
As for those things, which are above Nature, although they infinitely surpass our knowledge, yet we have very distinct notions of the Reasons, why we are not able to conceive them, and of the Reasons also, why we are to believe them. For if on the one hand in the doctrine of Faith there are things to be found, that are beyond our natural light; we have on the other, such evident signs of the Obligation for us to submit our Spirit to his Authority, who proposeth them to us, and so great convictions of our unableness to comprehend all what is; that we have cause to take all, what comes to us from thence for infallible Truth; in a word, for Notions which we hold from Grace; and from which, as well as from those which we hold from Nature, we may deduce all the Conclusions that may serve to regulate our Belief, and the Conduct of our Life, so that we are guilty, when by inconsideration or obstinacy we deviate from those Rules.  
But without insisting on the consideration of all the great Truths; that might be collected from this whole Discourse, I think it will become me to conclude, after I have considered all the several ways, whereby Thoughts may be communicated, which is properly what we call Speaking, and which I had proposed to myself to examine.   
FINIS.  

Books Printed for, and sold by John Martin at the Bell a little without Temple-bar.  
THe History of the Royal Society of London, for the Improving of Natural Knowledge, by Tho. Sprat. in quarto.  
Philosophical Transactions, giving some Account of the present Undertake, Studies, and Labours of the Ingenious in many considerable parts of the World, for Anno 1665. 1666. 1667. 1668.  
Observations on Monsieur the Sorbier's Voyage into England, by Tho. Sprat. In duodecimo.  
An Essay towards a Real Character, and a Philosophical Language; by John Wilkins D. D. Dean of Ripon, and Fellow of the Royal Society. In folio.  
Abrahami Couleij Angli Poemata Latina in quibus continenter sex libri Plantarum, viz. duo Herbarum, duo Florum, duo Sylvarum, & unus Miscellaneorum. In octavo.  
Physical Reflections upon a Letter written by Monsieur Denis, concerning a new way of curing sundry diseases by transfusion of blood. In quarto.  
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Euclidis Elementa Geometrica Novo ordine ac Methodo fere demonstrata. In duodecimo.  
Experimental Philosophy in 3 Books, with Observations about Cole-mines, by Dr. Henry Power. In quarto.  
Cerebri Anatome cui accessit Nervorum descriptio & usus, Study Dr. Tho. Willis. In octavo.  
Diatribae duae Medico-philosophicae, quorum prior agit de fermentatione sive de Motu intestino particularum in quovis corpore. Altera de Febribus, hic accessit dissertatio Epistolica de urinis. Study Dr. Tho. Willis. In duodecimo.  
Micrographia, or some Physiological Descriptions of Minute bodies, made by Magnifying-glasses, with Observations and Inquiries thereupon; by R. Hook Fellow of the Royal Society. In folio.  
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Vetus Testamentum Graecum ex versione Septuaginta Interpretum juxta Exemplar Vaticanum Romae Editum. In octavo.  
Graecae Linguae Historia, sive oratio de ejusdem linguae origine, progressis, atque incremento, a Gulielmo Burton Londonensi. In octavo.  
Lexicon Manuale Graeco-Latinum, & Latino-Graecum. Auth. Cornel. Schrevelio. In octavo.  
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Natural and Political Observations made upon the Bills of Mortality, with reference to the Government, Religion, Trade, Growth, Air, Diseases, and the several Changes of the said City; by Capt. John Grant Fellow of the Royal Society. In octavo.  
Kalendarium Hortense, or the Gardiner's Almanac, directing what he is to do Monthly throughout the year, and what Fruits and Flowers are in prime: By John Evelyn Esquire, Fellow of the Royal Society. In octavo.  
A Summary of Devotions, compiled and used by Dr. Will. Laud, sometime Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.  
The Considerator considered, or a brief view of certain Considerations upon the Biblia Polyglotta, the Prolegomena and Appendix thereof by Br. Walton, late Bishop of Chester. In octavo.  
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FINIS.