THE Polite Gentleman; OR, REFLECTIONS Upon the several Kinds of WIT, VIZ.  
In Conversation, Books, and Affairs of the World.  
Done out of FRENCH.  
LONDON, Printed, and are to be Sold by John nut near Stationers-Hall. 1700.   

TO The Right Honourable CHARLES Earl of Dorset, and Middlesex, Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and one of His Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council.  
My Lord,  
TO whom could a Treatise of Wit more justly fly for Protection, than to your Lordship, who are so undoubted a Master, and so generous a Patron of it? The Muses have long acknowledged You their sovereign, and indeed your Lordship deserves this Eminent Title much better than the Richelieu's, and Colbert's either of this or former Ages, since you have not only encouraged them to writ by your Munificence, but by your Example, which is always more efficacious. But tho', my Lord, this were Glory enough for any other Person but your Lordship, yet Wit is not the only shining Quality for which the World admires You: To a happy Imagination, and lively Genius You have reconciled the severity and profoundness of judgement: And for ought I know are the only, but I am sure the best refutation of what the Author, I now with all submission offer to You, has advanced, viz. that Wit and judgement are incompatible Talents, that never meet in the same Person. The whole Nation, my Lord, has no less owned the Statesman than admired the Courtier in You, and our iceland, of whose Government You had a Share in our Monarch's absence, owed its Repose and Peace to your wise Administration as well as it does its Politeness to Your Vivacity and Wit.  
Tho' this, my Lord, I hope may be sufficient excuse for the boldness of this Address, yet I was farther encouraged to make You this public acknowledgement when I considered in what an obliging manner Your Lordship received me some Years ago in Paris, where You were pleased to lay Your Commands upon me to wait upon You when I returned to England. Being conscious to myself that I had nothing of my own growth that was fit to entertain Your Lordship, I have presumed to lay the following Translation in all humility at Your Feet, which originally comes from a Polite Kingdom, where You won the applause of all that had the happiness of knowing You. But I am sensible that I have too much trespassed upon Your Lordships Modesty and Patience, and therefore beg leave to subscribe myself,  
My Lord, Your Lordships must Humble, most Obedient, and most Devoted Servant. Hen. Barker.   

PREFACE OF THE TRANSLATOR.  
THE following Discourse gave me so much pleasure and satisfaction in the Reading, that to impress it the better in my Memory, as likewise to employ a few vacant hours I resolved to translate it, and when that was over, I was easily prevailed upon to make it public. The Author of it seems all along to be a Man of Admirable Sense and Penetration, who had convres'd long in the World and made nice Observations upon what he had seen. His Language is pure an● easy but not swelling or affencted, the common defect of most Writers, who have written about Wit, and disgraced it by their Performance. He contents himself to express his Meaning in a familiar plain Style, without an affencted pomp and parade of Words which generally speaking serve not so much to instruct, as to amuse or else to impose upon the Reader. Thus he talks and argues like a Philosopher and a Man of Business, not like a flashy Orator who rather endeavours to adorn than to explain his Argument, and is more solicitous about the harmony of his Periods and the elegance of his Diction than either the closeness or justness of his Reasoning. I must own indeed that our Author's Philosophical Speculations are sometimes too nice, and perhaps will not be found true upon a strict examination; for which reason a Learned Gentleman to whom I communicated this Manuscript before it was handed to the Press, would have persuaded me to have omitted all that relates to the Philosophy: but I considered that this could not be done without a manifest injury to my Author, whom I had not honestly translated, if I had either left out or disguised his Sentiments. Besides I had not dealt fairly with the Reader, who perhaps may approve his Notions, or if he does not, may be glad to see what a Learned Man's Opinion is upon such difficult Points. As this Age has cultivated Philosophy with more application and success than any of the preceding ones, so we find it has likewise produced a greater variety of Hypotheses; most of which made a great figure in the World and found abundance of Admirers when they first appeared, but are now laid aside, and condemned as vain and precarious, and few of them keep up their first Reputation and Credit. The famous Gassend and Monsieur des carts,( not to mention Mr. Hobbs, Dr. Willis and several of our own Countrymen) were they now alive would have the mortification to see their different Schemes either neglected or explod●d, which in their time seemed to meet with universal approbation. If therefore our Author when he comes to account for the several sorts of Wit in a Philosophical manner, has a little evershot himself, he has done no more than abundance of celebrated Virtuoso's before him: And if upon so nice a subject as the economy of the human Structure, the motion and effects of the Animal Spirits, and the mutual influence of the Body upon the Soul and the Soul upon the Body( which after so many fruitless endeavours has not been yet satisfactorily explained) he has fallen into some mistakes, they ought to be pardonned in him, since the best things we are able to offer upon this head, amount to no more than bare Conjectures.  
This is what I thought necessary to say in my Authors behalf, as to his Philosophy, which is the least part in him, all the rest of his Book being plain and obvious, and carrying it's own Conv●ction along with it. As for the Translation, I can assure the Reader beforehand, that it is faithful and conformable to the Original which I always kept in my sight; judging it a less defect to be not so very scrupulous about my Language which after all is only the exterior Garb, than to depart from my Author's genuine meaning, which is the Life and Spirit of every Performance.   

A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR TO HIS FRIEND.  
I Perceive by your Letter, Sir, that you would have me consent to the Publishing the small Manuscript I left the other day in your hands. Have you well considered the Proposal you made me? and would you willingly expose a Friend to the Censure of the public, without pre-engaging it in some manner in his Favour? This small Treatise( the present Subject of our Dispute) will sooner bring those terrible Gentlemen the critics upon me, than engage the Reader in my Favour.  
My Discourse is on Wit: A topping Subject I must confess, and such as may excite the Curiosity of most Readers. It makes Noise enough in the World, and there are few but delight to hear it discoursed of; but when they find how I have handled this Argument, they'll immediately cry, What does this Author mean? He neither argues like a Man of Breeding, nor a Wit, but like a morose Philosopher. Instead of affecting a delicate fine style, he uses nothing but down right Reason; instead of Sparkling Expressions, and telling us pretty and agreeable Things on the Subject of Wit, he only seriously examines its Character. This looks like a very insipid Piece. This, Siris what those we call Wits will immediately say, and perhaps many others. But what will they not say, when having red some part of my Book, as the Table for Instance, they find me engaged, and are convinced that I declare openly against them? If at the first glance of this Work they began to distrust it, they will then absolutely condemn it.  
Those Gentlemen are very humoursome, the Hand that touches them must be very light, and pass extreme nicely not to make them wince. One is always in danger of provoking them, who in the least ventures to discourse freely of their pretended Qualities. 'Tis the same with the Wits, as with some Women dressed in all their Finery, who cannot suffer the least Breath of Wind, for fear of disordering their Apparel.  
What need you trouble yourself? you will answer immediately. What does it signify if the Wits do find fault with your Writings, provided you please the Men of Sense and judgement? I must confess, could I flatter myself with that Honour, I should not be so scrupulous, nor concerned if the Men of sense were the smaller Number. But I see this Inconvenience, that if my Book should have the good Fortune not to be disliked by them, it woudl however disoblige some, while it pleased others, and I do not desire to have any Difference with the Wits.  
Besides in a Subject which ought only to be managed for the Diversion of those who love to red, and who red only to pass away the Time, I have taken quiter another Method. I have not only retrenched those vain Discourses which serve more to swell a Book, than to instruct the Mind; but I have also banished all the sparkling Descriptions of a liv●ly im●gination, which pre-engages the Readers, and Flatters their Inclinations. Will they not take it amiss of me? Consider this Reason, Sir, and after you have done so, do what you please. Let it moulder in your Study, or try its Fortune in the World. If you resolve upon the latter, I have two Things to desire of you. The first, that you will excuse me for not complimenting the Courteous Reader at the Head of my Book, for this Reason, that I have no compliment to make him. The second, that you do not put my Name in the Frontespiece, to have it afterwards inserted into the Advertisements among strayed Horses and stolen Spaniels in the Gazette. Adieu.   

A TABLE.  

PART I. Of WIT.  

THat Men are subject to be deceived in judging of the Qualities of Wit. Of the esteem we have of Things; on what it ought to be grounded. The Design of this Treatise, page. 1   

Of Wit in Conversation,  

1. WHy we covet Conversation, page. 4  
2. How we communicate our Thoughts to others. That Words and Expressions are not alone sufficient for that Communication, page. 5  
3. What makes us delight in Conversation. In what this Pleasure Consists. The Advantages of Conversation for the Mind, page. 6  
4. The Advantages of Conversation for the Heart, page. 8  
5. How Men make use of those Advantages. That there are those who shun all Conversation, page. 9  
6. That there are others who take too much Delight in it, and for what Reason. Two Things contribute to deceive us in the judgement we give of Wit. Two Things deceive us in that we call Stupidity. There are three important reflections to make, page. 10  
7. The Character of a Wit. The first Character, page. 12  
8. The second Character, page. 13  
9. The third Character, page. 14  
10. The fourth Character, page. 16  
11. Why I insist on those four Characters. reflections on each of them. The Occasion of Error, page. 17  
12. Of the Parts which Man is composed of. Of their Union in Relation to the Genius of the Wits in general. What Dispositions of Body are proper to the first Character. What contributes to the Vivacity of the Imagination, page. 20  
13. Dispositions proper to the second Character. What makes the Extent of the Imagination, page. 23  
14. Dispositions proper to the third Character. What renders the Imagination delicate. Of Women, and what their Wit is, page. 25  
15. Dispositions proper to the fourth Character. In what Jesting consists. Whether a Jesting Man has Wit, and what that Wit is. That there is a sort of tolerable Rallery. Of ill contrived Jesters, page. 27  
16. Of the chief Point to which all the different Wits are reduced. Whether Reason concurs in the forming them. That what is said of a Wit is inconsistent with a Man of judgement. The Reason of the Unevenness of Wits in Conversation. Means to explain the effects of the Imagination. In what consists that we call to have Wit, page. 30  
17. That there is a difference between Wit and Imagination. Philosophical Reasons of that Difference. How we know Spiritual Things. How we know Material, page. 34  
18. Three several always to know Things. What it is to be sensible. What it is to Imagine What it is to Conceive. Example. page. 35  
19. Another Example. The Effect the Sensations have on us, page. 40  
20. Another more familiar Example. The Connexion of the Impressions of the Brain, and the Ideas of the Mind. The Effect of that Connexion, page. 41  
21. That there is no resemblance betwixt the Images imprinted in the Brain, and the Ideas of the Mind. What Things may enlighten us, and what may make us attentive, page. 43  
22. Imagination judges otherwise of Things than the Mind. The different Methods of a Man of judgement, from a flashy Wit. Of Opinion and Probabilities, page. 46  
23. How we come to confounded the Imagination with the Mind, and whence comes this Mistake, page. 48  
24 The good and bad use we may make of Imagination. The Help we may draw from it. In what sense it is a Defect to have Wit, page. 50  
25. Reflections on what we call Stupidity. That this Term is equivocal. The Reason of its being so, as are the Terms expressing the other Qualities. Whence comes the diversity of Genius's. What makes us blame and praise each other. That there are three Sorts of those we call Stupid. The Characters of those of the first Sort, page. 54  
26. Character of the second Sort. Of Silence and its Effects, page. 58  
27. Of those who have not the Gift of Utterance, that they have often the best Notions. Of fine Talkers and their false Eloquence. The Occasion of the common Error concerning these two sorts of Men, page. 59  
28. Character of the third Sort. Of the Defect of Memory. Of a good Memory. Reflections on its Effects and several Uses, page. 63  
29. That those who have a good Memory are not commonly the most Judicious. Philosophical Reasons for that Effect of Memory. In what we may make the Memory consist, page. 65  
30. What causes a confusion in the Mind. What hinders a clear judgement. That Attention may be prejudicial in some Cases. Example. page. 67  
31. Of those who addict themselves more to Reading than Reflecting, and the Advantages they reap from it in Company. That Recitals make the chief Subject of our Conversation. That a good Memory is very useful, and good Sense much more, page. 70  
32. What Prepossesses in Favour of the Wit. Of those who dogmatize on every Thing. What may corrupt the Mind in Conversation, page. 73  
33. The Emptiness of common Conversation. Rules we ought to observe in it. Particular Defects of Wits. Defects particular to the Wits, page. 76     

PART II. Of Wit in Books.  

1. WHat are the Ordinary Works of the Wits. That Poetry is very proper to show a Wit, and why. What raises and what debases the Quality of a Poet, page. 79  
2. The judgement we make of Poets. That a Man of solid Sense does not agree with Poetry. The Reason of this judgement, page. 80  
3. What ought to be the principal Care of a Poet. Whether Poets wa●● the Liberty of the Mind. Why 'tis not allowed a Poet to be Indifferent. The Effect of fine Verses. What makes a Man pass for a good Poet. Why very often he does not pass for such, in the general Opinion of the World, page. 82  
4. That there are works which cannot be generally well received. An Instance of it from the Judgments passed on the Works of two great Poets of our Time, Racine and Corneille. The Reasons for these divers Judgments, page. 85  
5. Two dangerous Rocks for a Poet. A Means to avoid ' em. What makes the Harmony in Verses so agreeable. What we love in sensible Things. Why we have a greater Fancy for one Man than another, and relish them better at one Time than another. The Sentiments of an ancient Poet on this Subject, page. 86  
6. The Secret of the Art of most Poets. What makes their Talent. That this Talent is to be esteemed. How far it ought to be limited. The Quarrel between the Philosophers and the Poets. Means of putting an End to this Quarrel, page. 93  
7. The principal Ends of a Wit, as well in Eloquence as Poetry. What an Orator ought to apply himself to. What corrupts his Mind, page. 94  
8. That there is a true and a false Eloquence. That both the one and the other have Three principal Ends. The difference of these two sorts of E● page. 97  
9. Which 〈…〉 ●its best with that we call Wit. A Re●lection upon certain Works. What an Eloquent Man is. Of the true Ornaments of Discourse. Of those which cannot consist with true Eloquence. Two Things to be observed in a Book or Discourse. Inevitable Snares to a Wit, in relation to the Style, page. 98  
10. The Falseness of his Sentiments, and from whence it proceeds. What makes us sometimes admire, and be fond of his eloquent Pieces, page. 100  
11. The Cause of this Admiration, and its Effects in our Minds. What makes the Graces of his Works, and how they pre-engage us in favour of the Author, page. 102  
12. That History does not come within the Character of a Wit, for two principal Reasons. Reflections we ought to make on the Science of History. How most Men look upon it, and what End they propose to themselves in their Application to it, page. 105  
13. What History comprehends. What ought to be our Aim in this Study. The same is found in History itself. Yet many do not compass it. The Means to do it. Wherein consists the Advantage we reap from the Study of History, page. 107  
14. Necessary Conditions to become an able Man. That History supplies our want of Experience. That it may enlighten our Mind, and how. The Relations between Things past, and to come, page. 109  
15. The Force of Example. That we ought to provide against that Force. Whether it be absolutely necessary, to have an exact Knowledge of History, page. 111  
16. How we may acquire this Knowledge, and of what use the Memory is for it. That by History we get the Knowledge of the World, and of Men. The Benefit arising from the Knowledge of the World. Of the use of Books in Relation to History, page. 112  
17. A Reflection on the Method commonly followed in the Study of History. That a Wit is not duly qualified for the Knowledge of History, nor by consequence to writ it. Necessary Qualities for a good Historian. Of those who only transcribe other Men's Works, page. 115  
18. Of fine Literature. That all the Learned pretend to it. How and why Men commonly apply themselves to this Science. The great Advantages they may reap from it. The ordinary Ways Men make use of to arrive at it. Of those we ought to follow, page. 118  
19. Of the good and ill Use Men make of Learning. That there are few who consider it rightly. That the Wits know not the Importance of it. That there is a Delicacy and Niceness that may corrupt the Mind, page. 122  
20. A Defect of those who pretend to Learning. Of what Use Ornaments are in Books. That we must not retrench them all, nor slight all Politeness. That fine Literature refines and polishes the Mind. That it may deprave it. That a Wit is not a Wit at all Times, nor before all sorts of Persons; with a Reason for it. t'has it is not the same with a Man of sound judgement, page. 124  
21. What Fancy is. What makes a good Fancy. What depends on Fancy is subject to Change, and for why. What depends on Reason is not. A particular Remark, page. 128    

PART III. Of Wit in the Affairs of the World.  

1. HOW the Philosophers have considered Men, in Relation to Morals. Two sorts of Affairs. necessary Qualities to make an able Man. That a A Wit has them not. Opposite Qualities to Capacity and Ability. That a Wit has those Qualities, page. 131  
2. The natural Defects of a Stupid Man, which render him incapable of Business. Essential Dispositions for the Management of Affairs. That they are proper to a Man of solid judgement. The Character of a Man of solid judgement, contrary to that of a Wit in Affairs, page. 133  
3. Of Men who wind themselves best out of a Business. Of those who manage public Affairs, page. 135  
4. The Excellent Dispositions of some Nations for the governing of States. True Greatness. The Genius of those Nations, and what supports them. That there are in other Countries some particular Men endowed with that Genius. The Reason of it. Some Climates and Constitutions often contribute to our Excursions from Reason. Of two Obstacles naturally invincible, and how they happen to be so. The Effect of Presumption. page. 136  
5. Of Men who give Counsel to others, and those who take it. That some are incapable of being well advised, and why. That few can give Counsel. A Wit incapable of it, page. 140  
6. That Opinion is the Rock of Wits. The Effects Of Opinion. That it concurs with Inapplication to spoil the Mind. What sort of Men are the Weakest, page. 141  
7. Of judgement. That Wits want it. The Source of this Defect. That this Source may be found as well in the Heart as in the Mind. That a sound Heart is as necessary as a well regulated Mind, page. 143  
8. The Conformity of the Dispositions of the Mind, and those of the Heart. What makes that we call good Sense. Of Wits that are most subject to err in Affairs. What excites the Passions. The evil Effect of Passions, page. 145  
9. Of Moderate Men, why they have more judgement than others. What we ought to discommend in Passions. Of their Use. In what Sense they are dangerous, in what Sense necessary. From whence depends Success in Affairs. Whether one had better be bold than circumspectly. The Sentiment of a great Politician, page. 107  
10. The proper Talent for the Management of Affairs. Who are those that have this Talent. The Unhappiness of the Condition of Man. Of politics. On what it is founded. How we ought to make use of its Maxims. Of a good politician. The Writings of politicians more exposed to censure, than those of others. That Policy has no general Rule. Its Difficulties in the practical Part, and how they may be overcome, page. 150  
11. The ill Conduct of Wits in the Affairs they undertake, observed in the ordinary Ways they take to raise themselves in the World. The Reason of the divers Ways Men take to make themselves Happy. That the Way of some Wits is fantastical. What induces them to take this Way. That it does not always succeed. And who they Quarrel with for it. page. 153  
12. The Conclusion of this Treaty. page. 155     

OF WIT.  
THE real Perfection in all Things ought only to be esteemed, and the pference we give the one before the other, ought to proceed from its being more excellent, after we have deliberately weighed and compared them. This Truth is Universally received, and allowed of when-ever proposed; but I know not how it comes about that we are so strongly convinced of this Principle, and yet make so ill an use of it.  
We neither love nor esteem Things but as they can contribute to our Happiness, or serve our Interest; and, because for the most part we judge of them with precipitation, before we have enquired into their Nature and Worth, it happens th●t w● call that Perfect and Excellent, which is neither the one nor the other; and Condemn that as Evil which perhaps we should have found to be Good, if we had more nicely considered it.  
We generally place Perfection in a certain Medium, the extremes of which are known to be Vicious. 'Tis agreed we cannot wander from this Medium, without running into Excess, or falling into some Defect; and yet we always launch into the extremes, and blunder from the one to the other without intermission, nay, without touching at this Medium,  
Be it Error, or down-right Ignorance, that keeps us off from this point of Perfection, which makes the value and price of Things, there is nothing wherein we are more subject to deceive ourselves than in the judgement we make of the Qualities and Nature of Wit. Those overstrain'd Expressions we make use of when we discourse of it, plainly prove that we are at a Nonplus when we come to judge of the Perfection of a Thing we make so very common, though rare and very little known. Those lofty noisy Terms of admirable, excellent, fine Wit, have a double meaning; and only raise confused and false Ideas; and we should be more confounded than we imagine, were we obliged to give a Reason why we find an infinite deal of Wit in some, very little in others, whilst we are most commonly content with our own.  
Now since we are to regulate our esteem of Things by the Idea of the Perfection we discover in them, if this Idea be false, the Esteem which is built upon it cannot but be ill grounded.  
Such for instance may be the esteem we commonly have for that Quality called Wit, if, notwithstanding its being so much extolled and courted as it is in the World, 'tis no less Vicious, and is as far remote from a just Medium, as what we call Stupidity; which is so much beneath it, and is indeed its very opposite.  
The Question is as important, as curious; therefore I thought myself obliged to make some Reflections upon that which is called Wit, and that we call Stupidity, to see if the esteem the World has of that, is better grounded than its scorn of this; and if there be any Reason so much to applaud the one, and despise the other, as is now the Fashion of the World.  
Men's ordinary Conversation, the Books they compose, and their Affairs in the World, are the best trials of Wit and Stupidity. We can only discover Men by what they say, writ, or do. Let us now examine wherein they best show themselves.  

Of WIT in Conversation.  

I.  
THE Necessities of Life are not the sole Reasons of Men's Conversing with one another. As they have many other Wants for which they cannot provide by themselves, they are obliged to discover them to each other, in hopes of Assistance which the Natural Friendship between them seems to promise; and which, they do not refuse each other; because it is reciprocal. 'Tis not enough to live▪ if we don't live happy and content. So that besides the Necessaries of Life, we must likewise have those things which may serve to make it happy. The Pleasure of Conversation being that which chiefly contributes to this Happiness, it is not to be wondered at if we desire and search after it with so much eagerness, and that we set it off, and season it with all that can make it most agreeable. Let us examine as near as we can, after what manner this is performed and wherein these Agreements consist.   

II.  
We communicate our Sentimens to others by Words and Expressions, which stir up in the Hearers other Notions relating to the first. These second Thoughts being followed with proper Expressions, reciprocally excite new Notions in the Mind of the first that spoken; and those in an Instant enter into the Mind of others, to produce the same effect. 'Tis by this means that our Minds entertain among themselves a sort of Union very useful to Society for which Men were Born.  
But as if Words and Expressions were not sufficient, or as if they were but equivocal, and Signs that gave not full assurance of our Mind and Heart, they are accompanied with a certain Air plainly showing itself on the Speaker's Countenance, and coming as it were, to strengthen what he says, by the Impression it makes upon the Hearers; whom it persuades so much the better, because it is stronger, and the Action more lively.  
I say, as if Expressions did not suffice; for it is certain, that the Air that artificially spreads itself over our Countenance, after the movement of our Heart, and advances of our Mind, is a kind of mute Language, which makes People have less reason to suspect our Words, because it cannot so easily belie and disguise itself.   

III.  
'Tis this Commerce of Thoughts and Actions, which makes us so much delight in Conversation, and so curious in the choice of those Persons whose Notions seem to us the finest, whose Sentiments most lively, and Actions most agreeable. Whose Company is more acceptable than that of those, who, by their Coldness, are incapable of stirring us up as much as is necessary to defend us from that heaviness which seizes and oppresses us, when we are for some time without Action.  
In effect, what is more dismal than a Man alone abandoned to himself, who thinks of nothing, or who believes he thinks of nothing, because he has none but rambling albeit Thoughts; or if you will, who being resolved to fix his Thoughts upon some Subject, is at the same time taken up with empty and profound Notions which only serve to distracted and trouble him, when perhaps his heated Fancy deludes him, and makes him believe they enlighten him much above others.  
What an Emptiness must there be in the Heart of this Man, who is incapable of all agreeable Sentiments, and of all exterior Impression; and who being left to his own raving Fancies, must of necessity be at last disgusted by too great a Calm, which, leaving him without Motion, leaves him also without Pleasure.  
Society brings us out of this Melancholy State; Company revives, and Conversation animates us. Men joining from all parts, to do that together which they could not afunder, produce a thousand Things which wholly owe their being but to the Dispositions we reciprocally communicate to each other, and which would never have appeared, had we not roused them up from that Depth in which they lay as it were butted.   

IV.  
The Heart finds not less advantage than and Mind, in discovering both what it is, ●nd what it loves, its Condition and ●nclination. For Conversation creates those agreeable. Ties which bind us one to the other, and are so much the more happy and durable, as the Conformity of the Humour and Passion whence they proceed, is the more entire and perfect. We also often receive from those we Converse with such Marks of Honour and Esteem, as by our Condition, and much more our particular Merit, we may lawfully pretend to, and which we freely bestow the one on the other, either out of Decency or Duty.  
Now if we change our Discourse from serious to more free and agreeable Matters; who does not know the charming Pleasures that we taste; of which one of the most exquisite is to have been able to give Satisfaction to others, and to have the happiness to please; which occasions that we never break off our Conversation better satisfied, than when we may flatter ourselves in some measure that others are so with us.   

V.  
What I have said is one Branch of the Advantages Men receive from the Use of Words and Conversation. Let us examine how they make use of these Advantages.  
There are Men in the World who scarcely reap any Benefit by them, because they have no Knowledge nor Sense of them. There are others who make an ill use of them, because they are too sensible. We see sometimes Men who are so could and Melancholy, that one would think them to be without Sense and Thought, as well as without Words; difficult to be moved, they neither please, nor endeavour to please; will neither know, nor be known. Company is more troublesome to them, than the most dismal Solitude; Men without any Relish or Sense of what we call Esteem, Honour, Union, Friendship, Correspondence, agreeable Conversation; and whom I should think the unhappiest of all Men, if in this their Unhappiness they were not so fortunate as to be insensible of it.   

VI.  
If some have no Sense, nor Relish of those Things, there are an infinite Number of others who are too fond of them.  
What cannot the Pleasure of being seen, respected and distinguished, by any Quality whatsoever, but more particularly by their Wit in Conversation, work on the Minds of some Men; where their Pride is flattered by the marks of Esteem they for the most part receive from their Admirers! How strangely must a great many others be affencted by those Pleasures, and agreeable Thoughts and Conceptions, with which we use to be so tickled in free and familiar Conversation, where we are pleased with the Correspondence of those Wits that divert us; whilst the Vanity of those Wits finds its full Satisfaction in the Caresses and Applauses of its Hearers.  
These are, however, the two Things which contribute the most to deceive us in the Opinion we have of the quality of Wit; I would say Pride and Pleasure. Pride cheats those who pretend to have Wit; because it blinds and puffs them up: Pleasure cheats those who admire them, because it pre-ingages them in favour of the pretended Wits who give them this Pleasure.  
In like manner, two Things very opposite to those above mentioned, may make us very uneasy in the Company of those whom we properly ought to call Stupid; viz. Their Slowness or Timidity, which makes them distrust themselves; and the Impatience, or Disgust they cause, which makes them troublesone to others.  
To convince ones self of these Truths, it is very requisite to make a serious Reflection on three Things. The first, what we commonly understand by the Word Wit, and who are the Persons to whom we ordinarily give this Qualification. The second, what is the Genius, and what Dispositions of Body and Mind are to be found in those sorts of Persons. And lastly, if it be truly the Mind, or some other inherent Quality of the Soul, as for Example, the Imagination and the Memory, which is the Cause of Wit, and which deceives, by the secret Pride it inspires, or by the sensible Pleasure it affords.  
It will not be less necessary in the next place to make the same, or very near the same Reflections on those we call Stupid; to know if there be no more required to understand them, than a simplo judgement on their outward Appearance, or, if it be requisite to examine more nicely their Character. Let us begin with Wit.   

VII.  
Tho' we are not very well satisfied what we ought to call Wit, there are however certain Characters, which fix, in some measure, this general Term; and show us who they are, upon whom we most commonly bestow it.  
A Person who with a free Air, certain measured, but easy Motions, begins by agreeably moving those he meets with; who in the next place produces on the Subject in debate, new and singular Thoughts, which he adorns with Expressions natural and lively, who has the Secret to make them received, as trivial and confused as they are, by piercing and bold stroke which delicately touch the Hearers; is almost every where taken for a Man of Wit.  
A Man of such a Character never fails of Admirers. He is esteemed, followed, and applauded; and he himself discovers by the pleasing Countenance of his Company, what favourable Dispositions he has insinuated in their Hearts. He admires himself for it in private, and persuades himself he is Master of that Noble Quality we call Wit, which claims Distinction and Honour.   

VIII.  
Another perhaps, who not troubles himself so much about the Choice and Fineness of his Thoughts, makes himself never the less esteemed, by I know not what manner of lofty serious Discourse, which attracts and draws Admiration. Tho' he is a great Talker, yet since he talks well, varies his Conversation, and steals smoothly from one Subject to another; we hear him without uneasiness, and follow him without taking notice whether he does not led us too far: Always lively and quick in his Discourse, his Action hides the extent of it, and makes us slip over his useless Digressions. If we nicely examine him, he is ready at Repartee; he neither hesitates nor confounds himself; he amuses, he possesses us, and has some Pretence to the Title of Wit, if he escapes the Malice of great Talkers like himself, and avoids 〈◇〉 repeat Things which were once thought diverting; I mean, If he has the Secret to surprise us always with new Matters.  
A Wit of this Character, with all his Vivacity, pleases not so well as the first. The Things, he says, being not so extraordinary, are not so charming; however they meet with Acceptance, and have their Time. The other is like an artificial Fire-work, which at the first sight dazzles and surprises; but is as soon spent, and shows itself only by intervals; but it is with the latter as with those Fires which are not indeed so sparkling, but last longer. 'Tis the great Variety that makes this sort of Wit; as an exquisite one, or such as is thought so, makes the other.   

IX.  
There is a third sort of Men who take less care to think, than talk well. They are very nice and curious in the choice of Words, and fine Terms; but empty and voided of good Sense and solid Instructions. What they say has nothing remarkable in it, yet it pleases, because it is set out with Modish Expressions.  
There is a kind of singular Language, which is in use at some certain Times, and amongst certain People. The Vulgar have their Words and manner of speaking; the Beau Monde has theirs. The inferior Sort affect the use of antiquated Words, Proverbs, and trivial Equivocations, even amongst Persons of Quality, Proverbs, Equivocations, Puns, and Quibbles were formerly in credit; but the Politeness of the Age has brought them to neater Expressions, to a less vulgar Language, to more delicate Figures, and a less Affectation of fine Words. But there is a knack in setting Things off to the best Advantage, a singular way to please, which, tho' studied, we endeavour to make it seem natural.  
If there are many who either know it not, or who neglect it, there are others who have a wonderful Talent in making a seasonable use of it. With Words free and easy, a Pronunciation clear and bold, and a certain Tone of the Voice, they make even Trifles well received. They please without our knowing either how, or where; and because we little distrust what Delights, we willingly rank them among the Wits. This Quality they enjoy till the Mode comes to despise and reject them, when not being able to leave off those common and vulgar Expressions, nor accustom themselves freely, and without constraint to a new Language, and another kind of Delicacy, they are looked upon as Men of the last Age.   

X.  
There is another sort of Wits, whose principal design is not so much to get Esteem as to provoke Laughter; for a Man cannot well aim at one, without forfeiting the other. These Gentlemen are happy in good Words, they meet with lucky seasonable Sayings, Sport and Droll prettily, Rally and Jest with an Air which disposes us to Mirth. They have I know not what sort of a Talent, to extract from the meanest Subject something to amuse and divert the Company with. Which if they do with a good Grace, and happily neck the Time, Place, and Persons to whom they are agreeable, they are then pleasant Men, and at the same time facetious Wits. And, if they are not such every where and at all times, 'tis because we are not always disposed to laugh, and that Good and Evil in no Case whatsoever come nearer to one another than in Jesting and Rallery.   

XI.  
I should never have done should I undertake to draw the Picture of all those who pass in the World for Men of Wit. For as every one Judges according to his Inclinations, I must enumerate as many sorts of them as there are different Genius's and Judgments. Besides, I find that all Men would regulate Wit, according to their own Fancy, and likewise would have it in Perfection. Now if our Modesty will not permit us sometimes to suffer Men to tell us that we have Wit, tho' it pleases us never so much to be complemented with it; yet we cannot dissemble our Trouble, when they reproach and laugh at us for want of it. Therefore I shall only insist upon these four sorts of Characters, because they seem to have some ground to challenge the Reputation of Wits; and that in Conversation they are always supposed to have more Wit than others.  
Yet if we look narrowly into these Things, we shall find but little ground for it, there being nothing in any of the four Characters, I have drawn, which can justly entitle them to the Name of Wits. In the first we see nothing but a false Light, a fallacious Glittering which strikes and seduces. In the second, nothing but a great facility of Expression, with a wonderful liberty of talking superficially of all Things, acquired and cultivated by a long Exercise and Habitude. In the third, nothing but a certain Method of Conversation got by root, which the Beau Monde by their use Authorizes, and to which the Mode for some time gives a sort of Reputation. In the fourth, we find nothing for the most part, but the foppery of a very poor creeping and cringing Wit, whose Capacity never carries him beyond Trifles. In all these four, or others that resemble them,( for we met with but too many) we cannot but discover a great Emptiness, which can only please or amuse those who prefer what diverts, to what instructs them.  
You will agree with me as to the Truth of this, provided 'tis not applied to some Persons whom you may think these Pictures fit, and for whom, perhaps, you are already prepossessed. For, if you compare what I have said of them, with their Actions and Conversation, at the same time when they act their Parts so notably, I run the danger of being disapproved, and then it will be very difficult for me to bring you to be of my mind. But if after the first Impression is over, you will reflect upon those Things which you thought so fine, and so ingenious, and with which you have been so sensibly pleased, you will return from your Surprise when ever you seriously consider it, with the same ease as you may recover from a Dream which vanishes as soon as you are well awake.  
The great Point consists in examining Things narrowly and in themselves, before we pass our Judgments. There are very few Persons who will give themselves that Leisure and Trouble; and amongst those who do, the greatest part are rather guided by their Inclinations, than by Reason and Truth, and so confounded obscure Notions with clear and distinct Knowledge. We ought not therefore to be astonished, if People are deceived, and if the Error they lye under as to the Subject of Wit is so general.  
To make it more clear and evident, haing made some Remarks on what is commonly called Wit, and who those are to whom we ordinarily attribute that Quality, let us pass to the second Reflection, which I said we ought to make on that Subject, and let us see what is the Genius, or what are the Dispositions of Body and Mind in those sorts of Persons.   

XII.  
The whole World almost is convinced, that Man is composed of two different Parts, viz. Soul and Body; and I believe there are very few Men of sense who seriously make a doubt of this Difference, particularly if they have seen and perused those Demonstrations, which a very learned Philosopher of our Age has laid down.  
Those two Substances are so strictly united during Life, and their Connexion is so great, that they communicate one to the other almost all that happens to them; and as if they had inviolably promised each other this reciprocal Communication; there is no change in the Body that the Soul is not immediately af●ected with, as there is none in the Soul but what i● communicated at the same instant to the Body. Such is, as all the World knows, the Order of Nature, unless some Alteration in the Body hinders it.  
Notwithstanding the great Intelligence that is between the Soul and the Body, yet it is not so obscure, but we may discover the secret by considering separately the one and the other, and in particular, the different Springs and Wheels which are in the Body to make it act. But, because it would be to no purpose to make an entire Description here, I will slip over it in silence; supposing that those Persons to whom I speak have at least a general knowledge of the Structure of Human Bodies; and that they understand what I say when I talk of Arteries, Veins, and those Humours they contain; and what I mean when I talk of the Brain, Nerves, Fibres, and Animal Spirits, and that they also know something of their proper Functions in the Body.  
This being supposed, and looking carefully into the divers Characters of Wit, of which I have already discoursed, with relation to their Natural Temper, that is to say, to the Dispositions of their Bodies, and to the different Impressions the Motion● of the Animal Spirits and the Blood cause in the Mind; 'tis easy to perceive, that all the Beauty and Excellence of their Genius is only the pure effect of Chance, and of a certain Order of the Parts of the M●chine; that all is the result of an accidental Mixture of different Humours amongst themselves, and of a sort of Animal Spirits, more or less fine or agitated; and very often from the great Alterations which are occasioned in our Bodies, and consequently in our Minds, by the Air we breath, the Nourishment we receive, the liquours we make use of, either for our Pleasure or Necessity; our Occupations, our Exercises, and in one word, all our different Ways and Methods of Life and Action.  
We may imagine, for example, and we see it every day by experience, that those Wits that gain so much Reputation in Company by their sparkling and new Thoughts, tho' false, and by the lively Sentiments they excite in others, should have a very fine Blood, full of volatile Salt, from which are formed the animal Spirits also very fine, and in continual motion; which passing through the Nerves, and small Fibres of the Brain, make an Impression naturally followed with quick and lively Sense, which never fails of animating the Speaker, and as it were by a counter-stroke the Hearers.  
The Constitution we commonly call Bi●●ous, is in my opinion, the most proper Temper for this sort of Wits. The Blood boils more in them, than in others, and circulates more nimbly. The different Fermentations it draws from the Viscera in circulating are more efficacious and powerful. There is more volatile Salt in proportion, than other Principles. And, if besides this they observe a delicate Diet, breath a sharp Air, and use a moderate Exercise, all those Things must contribute to the Quickness of their Fancy, or( to use the Expression in Mode) to the Elegance of their Wit.   

XIII.  
In like manner that other Species of Wit, which pr●possesses us by I know not what sort of solid Discourse, well carried on and diversify'd, by a free and easy pronunciation, and by great and wonderful Volubility and Fluentness, which seems to aim at Truth, tho' it goes astray every moment, and leads the Hearers into Error. Such Wit may perhaps be nothing but the Effect of a sulphureous inflamed Blood, whose particles are very proper to prod●ce a great quantity of Animal Spirits, not only easy and ready to take fire, but also keep it in much longer; occasioned as much by the great quantity of the matter of which they are formed, as by their light quality and aptness to take fire.  
The Pipes of the Nerves and Brain in those Men are easily penetrated; their Fibres are suppling, and their Animal Spirits pass easily through the Orifices and Pores which receive them. The Soul indeed is not in so lively a manner touched by the Impressions they make, as in the first sort of Wits; but it is filled enough to be entirely taken up with it, and to let itself be drawn over by continual Impressions occasioned by that uninterrupted course of Animal Spirits, while those Impressions are made almost in the same manner in those that give ear to those great and pompous Discourses which this sort of Wits make use of to express their Meaning.  
Sulphur is the most predominant in those of this Character; as the volatile Salt is in the others. They abound in Animal Spirits and Blood; but the Ferments which are furnished by the Viscera, being not so piercing, nor the Humours so sharp, their Motions are the more moderate, and by consequence last the longer. In that very Thing therefore does probably consist the pretended extent of Wit of those Men, who we only admire for want of taking notice that it is only the Extent of their Imagination which surprises.  
A nice and delicate Constitution, Fibres thin and fine, the Animal Spirits very light, the Blood and Humours of an indifferent Consistence, because of the Fluidity of their Parts, make, in my Opinion, those superficial vain Wits, which one modish Word, and affencted foppish Way of Talking that humours the Times, a Phrase prettily turned make often pass for Polite and Fine Wits. They have not Strength enough of Mind to support them in a rational Discourse, and want both Vivacity and Penetration, but they please by I know not what kind of Air and affencted mien they use, and by a kind of unusual Language, called, the Language of the Beau Monde, that is to say, of certain Persons who have no other Title to be thought Delicate, Nice, and Polite, but because they are Esseminate.  
Women being for the most part of a Constitution natural●y feeble, because their Blood and Humours hold more from the Nature of Water than any other Principle, and their Brain is of a soft Consistence, because their Fibres are fine and slender, their Animal Spirits, which in Truth are agitated enough, but feeble, weak, and light, and by consequence very easily dissipated, come nearer this Character of Wit, than any other: The Difficulty they have to give a serious Attention to any thing abstracted and above the Senses, the dislike they conceive for all solid Reasoning, fully proves the Delicateness of their Imagination, or, what is here much the same thing, the Weakness of their Minds.  
Their Brain being easy to be moved by the least Agitations, and even to receive very violent Disturbances from the smallest Motions, they are in a Manner Slaves to all sensible things. They search and consider no farther than the Out-side of things; and not being able to penetrate deeper, think nothing fine but the clothes which cover and adorn them. As they are the best Judges of modish Carriage and Fashions, they can relish nothing but what has a Dependence on them. Some new affencted way of Talking, certain Words a la Mode, do so infinitely please and charm them, that they cannot sufficiently applaud such as make use of them. And because the Folly of the Times countenan●es and protects those little foppish Turns or Expression, they place the Standard of Wit in them, and cannot believe any one to be an Ass, who has the miserable Talent to prepossess and please them in that Point.   

XV.  
The Freedom and Easiness of some Men to Jest and Rally, or their Facility and Readiness of Wit to raise the lowest Things, and depress the highest, to contract or magnify Objects,( wherein consists what we call Burlesque) makes me believe that this sort of People cannot want Animal Spirits, both sharp and agitated, that are of Force to make particular Impressions in the Brain, with a Facility equal to the Velocity of their Motion, and that the Fibres or Humours do less obstruct or oppose their Course in the Channels they run.  
The Matter which the Blood conveys to the Head to produce this sort of Wit, ought to be of a pretty steady Consistence, that they may have the Power freely, and without trouble, to open several Passages, by which they may form in the Brain the particular Images of what they design to represent, and dispose the rest of the Body at the same time to a mien and Behaviour suitable to those lively Representations.  
The Impression which these Animal Spirits make in the Brain being singular, the Soul is the more lively affencted with the sense of it. Jocose Men are the first affencted with it, who afterwards agreeably move others by way of Repercussion. And as it is accompanied with Pleasure and Mirth, so it is apt to make People believe a Jocose Man Witty.  
That they have Wit, I own; but it is false and childish. A quick Fancy they have, but 'tis foolish and irregular, which never represents the true Idea of Things, but on the Contrary takes a great Care to disguise and disfigure them by such peculiar Notions as make them very unnatural, and by that means more ridiculous.  
I know there is one sort of Jesting and Rallery which may be allowed by Persons of good Wit and Sense; when being neither dull nor trifling, the Effect it commonly produces is not so much to led us from Reason and Truth, as to make us more sensible of it. But it is so very difficult to keep a rallying Imagination within its just Bounds, that one always ought to fear it will exceed them.  
The Salt that ought to season and give a Relish to our Rallery imprints such Notions in the Brain as we cannot easily forget and wipe out; for they renew and increase in spite of us. 'Tis a slippery dangerous Path, and one false Step throws us from the most nice and d●licate Rallery, into the most absurd Follies.  
I do not mean therefore to speak here only of those Little Wits who have made this false Step, who laugh and make a Jest of every Thing, and turn the most serious Things into Ridicule. A rallying Wit predominates in all their Discourses; which makes them give a wrong Bias to all things. As they were born with that Genius, so they die with it. This Character I look upon for this Reason to be the lowest, and meanest of all; because the Imagination of Men of this Character is so irregular and depraved, that it scarce ever conveys any thing to the Mind but under peculiar and borrowed Figures, which represent only pleasant and ridiculous Fancies with which they are so infatuated, because delighted with them, that it is not in their Power to turn their Thoughts to any thing that is good and serious; they being never so pleasant, as when they say the greate●● Follies.  
They do not last long I confess, for we are soon weary of them. They make at last a very foolish Figure; but they reign for a time, and have their sottish Admirers. They are favourably received, and distinguished in the best Companies; and, which is strange, often esteemed beyond Men of good and solid judgement.   

XVI.  
I cannot exactly lay down all the particular Dispositions which concur in the forming of Wits, nor give you Physical Reasons of all their Differences. There are so many Kinds, that it would be as difficult for me to describe them all here, as for a Painter to draw faithfully to the Life in one Piece all the Faces which are in the World▪ What I can say, is, That there is one Point to which all those different Wits may be reduced, as there is one Figure in the Face to which all Faces have some likeness. This point is a certain Disposition of the Brain and the Animal Spirits, a sportive Imagination, the secret Springs and Wheel● of the Machine, which I shall explain hereafter. The Mind, or rational Soul, is not concerned in it: If it be, 'tis only for those agreeable or disagreeable Sentiments it receives, because of its Union with the Body, which Sentiments are fruitful Springs of Blindness and Error.  
A Person of good and solid Sense may receive the same Sentiments, without falling into the same Errors. If his Imagination endeavours to misled and seduce him, Reason, by which he is governed, soon helps to undeceive him. His Reason is not free from the Illusion of the Senses. The Blood and Animal Spirits of such a Person have their Course and particular Agitations as those of other Men, and you may observe in his Body such Dispositions as may serve to explain those of his Mind. But if his Constitution does very much contribute to the Soundness of his judgement, the good use he makes of his Reason turns the Happiness of his Constitution to a wonderful Advantage. And though some Constitutions of Body contribute equally to a sound judgement, and ready Wit, we ought in this case to set a greater Value upon whatever proceeds from the part of judgement, than what comes from that of Wit. My Reason is, because a Man of Wit follows solely his Senses, and suffers himself to be carried away by a lively Imagination; whereas a sound judgement resists that Folly, in order to raise itself above it and regulate it. Therefore what I have said before is but rational, that a Man of Wit is only so far so, as the Constitution of his Body inclines him to it, and that it is properly the Machine only that acts in such Persons.  
Make but the least Reflections on what passes in common Conversation, and you'll find sensible and notable Proofs of what I have laid down; and Experience will convince you that what is said of the Imagination of Men of Wit is no Fiction of my own.  
Such a one had W●t formerly, and was the Wonder of the Town, who now says not four witty Sentences in a Week, and those not free but forced. The Reason is, that those Animal Spirits which were proper to open certain Pores of the Brain are not now so brisk; that the Matter of which they were produced is no more the same, or at least not so copious; the Orifices of the Heart are sometimes straitened by the Nerves which encompass them, and the Blood does not circulate with the same Force and Swiftness as formerly. Some Passions, as for Example Sorrow, or Grief, may be the Occasion.  
There are others, who still retaining their usual Strength and Vivacity of Mind, yet cannot show it but with a strange unevenness of Temper. They have unlucky Melancholy Days, when it is apparent the Sprightliness of their Wit ●as not its wonted Heat and Lustre. And what should be the Reason of it, but some Moistness in the Brain which stifles and Quenches this Fire, foam Serosity which stops the Course of the Spirits, or perhaps their being determined to run through some other Orifices, either for the Convenience and Necessity of the Machine, or some other Occasion?  
If I add that the Liver, the Spleen and the other Viscera incessantly furnish Ferments which disorder the Mass of Blood a thousand different ways, that the Circulation is sometimes stopped, sometimes p●●●●pitated according as the Arteries and the Heart are contracted or enlarged; that the Brain is more or less moistened according to the Quantity of Serositie strained thro' the Glands; that the Animal Spirits are more or less abounding, gross or subtle, according to the Qantity and Quality of the Matter which goes to the Head to produce them; that there is a natural Order of the Parts, and particularly of the Fibres, which shapes the Passages through which the Spirits run with more ease than through others; if I further add, that exterior Objects and Passions make, as is well known, strange Alterations in the Body, and by a necessary Consequence very violent Impressions on the Soul. All these Considerations will help us to give a Reason for all the divers Effects of the Imagination, its Motions and Illusions will doubtless induce you to undeceive yourself, and to stand upon your Guard against all its Surprises. For I declare it in one Word, what we commonly call to have Wit, consists in nothing but in a certain Turn of the Imagination, fantastical and singular, which the brisker and livelier it is, the more it surprises. But, least I should be reproached for making too bold a Determination, I will more ex●●tly and strictly inquire into it, it being the Third Point that I proposed to myself to examine.   

XVII.  
Imagination counterfiets Wit so dexterously, that one may very easily be mista●en; and if you go no further than the Out-side, you would think it the famed thing called by two different Names. Yet in reality they are two Things differing more in their Nature than Name; and whoever will take the Pains to consider and compare them, will find most essential Differences, as follows:  
Tho' we have not a perfect Knowledge of the Nature of our Soul, we nevertheless know enough to assure us, whenever we recollect ourselves, that it cannot be a part of the Body to which it is united. The first and the sole Proprieties of the Soul are to Think and Perceive; those of all sorts of Bodies, to and Exte●ded and figured. Now Thought and Perception, Extent and Figure, are Properties far distant in their own Natures, and such as no rational Man can conceive to be consistent in one and the same Subject.  
For that very Reason every one may, in considering himself internally, know that the Soul is an immaterial Substance, uncompounded, indivisible, alone capable to know, to judge, to reason, to will, love, fear, hope, imagine and perceive, many ways and manners. He may know, I say, that as it is absolutely different from the Body, so it has Proprieties which are only agreeable to itself, independantly from the same Body; as for example, the Proprieties of knowing, judging and willing; but that being at present so straitly united to the Body, it has also some Proprieties depending on it, as those of Imagination and P●rception.  
All things that are the Objects of our Knowledge are of two sorts, either Spiritual or Material; and as they are of two kinds in their Nature extremely distant, so the manner by which the Soul perceives them must also be very different. For there ought to be a Proportion between the things we know and the manner of knowing them. Now Spiritual Things cannot be known but abstractedly. God, for example, our own Thoughts, general and universal Ideas, our Will, Inclinations, Judgments, Truth, Justice, Perfection, Reason, are Things only known by the Soul, without the help of the Senses. But as for Material Things, the Soul cannot perceive them but in a sensible and gross manner; viz. either by the Impression they make on the Senses, which is called Perception, or by the Images it forms of them in the ●rain which is called Imagination.   

XVIII.  
I shall not make it my business to prove all these Things Philosophically, which have been already confirmed by very good Authors. Those that have a further curiosity, may see the Demonstrations they have given, in those Books they have written on this Subject. 'Tis sufficient for me to observe what is proper to the Body alone, what to the Soul only, and what concerns the Soul and Body jointly; that the great Difference between those Things being made plain to us, we may not confounded them.  
In effect what do we see as to the Body we animate, but divers sorts of Parts; solid and liquid, subtle and gross, which by their singular Order and different Figures, make a compound susceptible of divers Motions?  
But, as to the Soul, without admitting any extent or division of Parts, we discover a Substance, a Being, which thinks, knows, wills, and determines its self.  
Taking afterwards the Soul and Body together, we may observe, that if among our different sorts of Knowledge we have any without the help of the Body, there are some also that we have only by its means; that some things there are which the Soul immediately and by itself knows without any relation to the Body; but that there are other Things which it does not know but by relation to it.  
I call the first manner of knowing; Understanding, and Knowledge; the second, Sentiment and Imagination.  
Sentiment is a Perception of the Soul, which is afterwards produced from the Action of the Outward Objects of the Body, and the Agitation of the Nerves and Spirits which extends its self to a certain part of the Brain. Imagination is a Perception of the Soul, not caused by an impression made upon the Body by the Action of exterior Objects, but by the Agitation of the interior Fibres of the Brain, produced by the interior Motion of the Animal Spirits; whether it is because this Agitation proceeds from the very Will itself of the Soul, or only from an unexpected Course of the Spirits, which pass accidentally through certain Pores rather than others.  
So that this manner of thinking which we call Imagining, to speak properly, consists only in the interior Application of the Mind, to the Descriptions or Images drawn or imprinted in our Brain by the Action of the Animal-Spirits.  
And on the contrary, that manner of Thinking which we call Conceiving, consists only in the application of the Mind, to pure and intelligible Ideas, separated from all sensible Impressions and corporeal Images.  
As for example, when I think of certain Numbers, as 2, 4, 8. the Ideas I have of them I perceive by the Mind alone, and that only Propriety of the Soul which I ●●ll Understanding. I judge also of the Relation which is between those Ideas, as that 4 is the half of 8, and the double of 2, without the help of any Sense or Image. Yet if I cast my Eyes on the Character 4, which was invented to express the Idea of this Number; the impression that will then be made on my Eyes by that Figure, and by the optic Nerves in my Brain, will cause a sentiment in the Soul, and make the intelligible Idea which I have of this Number 4 sensible. Thus in what I shall conceive, there will be both Sentiment and Idea.  
If when I think upon the Number 4 I do not stop at the mere Idea I have of it, but apply my Mind to the Description or Image the Animal Spirits imprint in my Brain, and which represent this Figure 4, tho' no more before my Eyes, than I imagine. So that I both Conceive and Imagine.  
But it will be also of importance to observe, that neither the Sentiment I receive by the Colour and Figure of this Character, nor the Image I have of it in my Brain, make the Idea of the Number to which I join them more distinct, tho' causing a deeper Impression; nor do they consequently render the judgments and Conclusions I shall draw from this Idea more rational or more coherent. On the contrary, I shall make it appear, that the Senses and Imagination very often darken our Light, and spoil our Understanding.   

XIX.  
Let us take another Example less abstracted; if I think of a Square, the Idea I have of it shows me four sides joined by their extremes. I need only the light of the Mind to see it, and also to hold, if I please, several Arguments on the Proprieties I discover in this Idea.  
To join the Sentiment to the Idea, I need only draw with my Pen on this Paper four Lines that shall meet at their four ends.  
The white and black of this Figure, strike my Eyes, move the filaments of the Nerves and the Animal Spirits; and my Soul immediately receives a Sentiment, which answers to the motion of the Fibres of the Brain. There is the intelligible Idea made sensible.  
To imagine this Square, when I have no Figure like it before my Eyes, I need only turn my Mind towards my Body, and apply it to the Image which the Animal Spirits shall imprint of it in my Brain. Then I shall imagine a Square which before I did but conceive, that is to say, I shall not only see this Square as a Figure terminated by four Sides and four Lines, but I shall consider those four Lines as present by the force and application of my Mind; with this difference only, that the pure Idea rendered as it were palpable and sensible, will then affect and move me, whereas before it did only show itself. This Sensation will support, if you will, the Idea and Arguments I shall make on those Proprieties; but will not augment my Knowledge; On the contrary, it may happen, that being taken up with the Image or Sentiment, and not at all with the pure Idea, I may stop at first sight at one, and stray altogether from the other.   

XX.  
To make this clearer by more familiar instances, let us suppose that I red, or hear pronounced one or more words joined together; as for example this Italian Proverb; Dove e Amore, quivi●e feed, where Love is, there is Fidelity. What I presently find, is, that the sound of those words pronounced strikes my Ears, as the reading the Characters of the same words strike my Eyes; and from which side soever these Impressions come, 'tis certain that the motion of the Nerves which extends itself to the principal part of the Brain, produces a Sentiment ●n the Soul which stirs up the Idea which Men have agreed to fasten to those Terms. For it depends on them to fix the Ideas they have of Things, to such and such Sounds, and to such and such Characters rather than to others, as they please. Thus in what I apprehended by hearing those words; where Love is, there is Fidelity, there is Sentiment and pure Idea.  
But the Imagination may be said here to have some Part in it; if considering those Ideas which I have of Love, and Fidelity, I find myself so used to see those Ideas joined to the Impression that the Sound or the Character of the Terms which express them have often formed in our Brain, that I cannot easily represent them separately to myself, as very seldom we can, and that I apply myself to the Expressions as soon as to the Things signified by them; for then those pure Ideas will become sensible, because of the Connexion that is between Them and the Impressipression of the Terms to which they are joined. This Union becomes so close by our being used to see them so united, that we cannot sometimes think of the Idea without imagining the Expression, nor imagine the Expression without reviving the Idea.  
This should not make us believe that the Sounds or Characters produce in the Btain, Impressions and Images which resemble in any thing the Ideas we conceive when we reflect on those Impressions. The truth is, they are so straitly united by our being accustomend to see them in this Union, that one would think they do but one and the same thing, and that to Conceive and Imagine is but one and the same manner of Thinking.   

XXI.  
Far from confounding the Impressions made in the Brain with the Ideas which offer themselves to the Mind, we cannot so much as say there is any Resemblance betwixt them; since altogether different Words and Characters make us understand the same Things. As for example, when I hear pronounced by one that speaks Italian these Words, Amore, feed, those Terms immediately awake in my Mind the same Ideas as these other Words pronounced in English, Love, Fidelity, which signify the same thing, tho' the Sound is very different, and by consequence the Impression made of it in my Brain.  
Not only different Words may explain the same Things, but different Things may be explained by the same Words and Characters. Thus, if a Man who talks Latin pronounces in my Presence this Word Cor, I shall immediately understand by this Word the Heart, one of the noble Parts of the Body; but if another should pronounce it who talks French, I shall think he means a hunting Instrument called a Horn, which are two different things expressed by the same Sound and Characters, which by consequence can only produce the same Motion and the same Impression in my Brain, although they produce different Ideas in the Soul.  
By this we see that the Union of Images and pure Ideas we have of Things is every way Arbitrary, and there being no essential Relation between one and the other, the Motion of the Spirits and the Impression of the Brain can at the most but serve to awake in us the Things, 
* I do not here pretend to explain from whence we have our Ideas of things, from whence they proceed, nor how they are formed; because 'tis nothing to my Subject. I shall only endeavour to show, that the Senses and Imagination do not produce them, and cannot enlighten us.  not produce them, to apply our Mind to those very same Things, not to form them. Whence it manifestly follows, that whenever we proceed to pass judgement without considering narrowly those Ideas, or going no farther than our Sensations and Fancies, our Inferences are false and rash, and that so much the more as those Fancies and Sensations are more quick and lively, by Reason that the Motion of the Spirits being more violent, the Impression of the Brain deeper, and the Images better drawn, the Soul cannot but be more possessed by them. And as we are natural●y taken up with what pleases us, the Application of the Soul will be much greater towards its Sensations and Fancies, than its Attention to the true Idea of things which appear before it, but make no Impression. The Soul may be so sensibly touched, that it may wander and stray, and erring from the clear Light of Reason, it shall give itself wholly up to the Obscurity of its Sentiments, ot the Illusions of its Imagination, which, as I have said, may employ the Soul, but can discover nothing to it; may bring it out to behold, but can show it nothing.  
This may seem to some Men too serious, if not an infipid Discourse. However 'tis allowable, to explain a Subject upon which I could determine nothing without these previous Reflections, unless I should fall into the Weakness of our Modern Wits, and pretend to dispute without Grounds, or persuade without Reason.   

XXII.  
Imagination then is far different from Wit, that is to say, from Reason and good Sense; for those three Terms express one and the same Thing; and Wit, which is nothing but Imagination, is by consequence far different from the solid true judgement which it counterfeits. But let it be never so well metamorphosed, as it does but mimic and cheat in Appearance, it falls far short of excelling it.  
All the Fault lies in those who are mistaken in it; for a Man of judgement understands the Things he considers and judges of, by applying himself to the Spiritual Ideas he has of them, not in the least by the Application of them to Corporeal Images in the Fancy, in which their Fault lies. For those sensible Images representing all Things confusedly, it follows of course that the Imagination never has a clear Insight into Things. The Mind considers the true Idea of Objects, to find their Difference and Proprieties; when the Fancy does but reflect upon the Impression made of them in the Brain.  
Thence it comes that a Man of judgement fixes upon those just and solid Grounds that confirm his Thoughts; whereas a Wit minds nothing but the agreeable or disagreeable Sentiment which follow them. A Man of judgement diffuses his Knowledge, by instructing such as receive it; but a Wit, with his Notions, surprises and cheats his He●rers. The former persuades, because he talks rationally; and a Wit, because he Flatters.  
A Man of judgement begins first by gaining the Reason, and by that means very often the H●●rts; but the business of a Wit is first to possess the Heart, and by that means debauch the Weak and simplo. In short, a Man of judgement minds nothing but Truth and Knowledge; and a Wit pleases himself only with Opinions and Probabilities.  
Now because Opinion has most commonly the pference, and that we for the most part take Appearances of Truth for Truth itself, what proceeds from the Imagination is supposed to come from the Mind, and we confounded without any Reflection the one with the other. Our Wits, who only follow their Imaginations, cunningly give an imposing Air of Truth to Opinions and Appearances of Truth; and even to things the most distant from Reason, a seducing Appearance of Reason. We are dazzled with their fine Discourses, and harmonious jingling of Words, and charmed by the Delicacy or Novelty of their sparkling Thoughts. We take an Ignis fatuus for a true Light, Visions for Realities, and think ourselves reasonably persuaded and convinced, when we are but agreeably tickled and flattered.   

XXIII.  
I have already given the Reason of this Mistake. human Pride, Pleasure, and the Inclination and Propen●●y we have to any thing that flatters us, are the true Occasions of it. When a Wit undertakes to discourse on any Subject in Conversation, the sensible Impression of the natural Force of his Imagination gives him a secret Confidence, which makes him gratify his Ideas whatever they are, true or false, proper or improper. This Vanity does not suffer him to distrust himself a Moment, but he reduces all to it; and, because one would not willingly be deceived, he forms to himself a certain Scheme of Reason, from whence all the Illusions of his Will proceed as from their Source and Fountain.  
With this false Confidence of himself he discourses of every thing, boldly decides the most obscure, and undertakes to unfold the most intricate Matters; and, as he observes some Order in his Discourse, so one would think him a Master of the Argument. Because he imagines well, we are apt to think he argues solidly.  
There is nothing so common as this Mistake in human Society, more especially in Questions which are sometimes proposed on divers Subjects by way of Conversation. While some Men, having both Truth and Reason on their side, can scarce be heard, and much less believed. Others who have the knack of managing neatly the Matter presently gain Belief, not by the Strength of Reason, but by a certain Turn which they give their Thoughts.  
The Pleasure we take in the Conversation of a Wit does in some Manner enslave our Minds to him; and our Reason weakened by that sensible Impression, yields to its Power while it secretly owns the prevailing Advantage of the Imagination, by its agreeable Motions. Not, but that a good Air, and good Grace do extremely set off whatever we do or speak, tho' they do not really make what we say to be truer, or what we do to be more rational.  
Appearances are nothing but Cheats, as well in respect to Wit as to the Heart, tho' less disinherited. A civil, handsome, sober Man, who presents himself with a good Grace, is presently well received, and we conceive some esteem for him; but one would not be obliged on those Appearances, to answer for his Integrity. On the contrary we are apt at first sight to proclaim that Man a Wit, who talks well, lively, briskly and agreeably, even before we have had time enough to judge whether he has as much in Effect, as he has in Appearance.   

XXIV.  
But some Men will say, is it a Defect to have Wit? to have it quick, polite, and agreeable? to have a fine, noble, delicate Fancy? Is it for nothing it was given us adorned with so many Graces? and must we scrupulously deny ourselves the use of it? Is it a Sin to be sensible of its Charms? and shall People make us believe that to divert and please is a pernicious Qualification? Is it not rather one of those Things of which Seneca speaks, that is only cried down and exclaimed against, by such as want it? or, as Pliny says, one of those Things of which we talk with Passion, because we look upon it with Envy?  
Having thus explained myself on the Nature of Imagination, and the Differences of Wit and judgement, 'tis now incumbent upon me to declare what their Use is.  
Whatever is serviceable may prove hurtful, and there is nothing so pernicious but may be made beneficial, when 'tis put to a good Use; I speak only of Natural Things. poison being well prepared becomes a Sovereign Remedy. I do not intend to cry down Imagination in all respects. It may indeed deceive a Man of judgement: Sometimes it imposes on him, and leads him out of the way; but this happens only, when he shamefully abandons his Reason, which alone ought to be the Guide of his Knowledge and judgement; when he neglects his Reason so far as to despise it, to follow only Visions and chimaera's.  
Let us give to every Thing its due Merit and Place. judgement ought to have the Precedence; Wit, or Imagination, ought to come after. Imagination must not have the Pre-eminence; but should follow as an Assistant to our Weakness, and to support us in the painful Labour of Attention to the true Idea of Things, so as to obtain a perfect Knowledge of them.  
This Assistance is at present necessary for us, because the Body soothsayers the Mind; and we must make a virtue of Necessity, and extract from the Body what may raise us above it. We ought to help ourselves with sensible Ideas, as real Assistants in the Consideration of Spiritual Ideas. The Sensations being Modifications of the Soul which touch and penetrate it, must of necessity affect it much more than abstracted Ideas, which only appear without touching it.  
The Mind faints and languishes at the bare Description of Truths; and is often discouraged by the Trouble and Pain it takes in the Discovery of them. Whereas the Imagination revives and diverts it, fixes, supports, and cherishes its Thoughts, makes obscure things sensible to it, approaches the Distant, and brings them to its Touch. It polishes the gross Ideas, gives a Substance to the most subtle and airy; and the Soul applied to the divers Notions which are neatly and distinctly engraven in the Brain, more easily perceives what would have been otherwise beyond its reach.  
The quickest and most penetrating Minds stand in need of this Assistance; and there is none that can act without it, as long as it is joined with the Body. 'Tis an unhappy but indispensible Necessity, because of the dependence we have on sensible Things in this Life.  
'Tis not then a Defect, absolutely speaking, to have a strong, quick, and fine Imagination; since it is of so great a help to Reason. But 'tis a very great Fault to pervert the Order of Nature, to make Reason wait upon Imagination, to prefer and delight only in this, and, by a shameful Injustice, carry it as it were in Triumph, and place it in the Seat of Reason, which we almost entirely darken and eclipse.  
Imagination makes in one sense the Fineness, the Delicacy, and the Force of Wit; but 'tis only when it obeys the Orders of Reason. On the contrary, where it predominates we may impute all our Miscarriages to it. That is, when the divers Impressions which are made in the Brain and the rest of the Body, are only made by its Orders; when the Images which are formed in the Fancy, are drawn and expunged at its Pleasure; when it receives no Laws but from itself, in all its impetuous and irregular Motions. In this last sense I affirm that 'tis a great Defect to have Wit; and a very vicious Quality to please no other way. A Quality we ought not in the least to be fond of, it being rather to be feared than coveted▪ and if we speak of it contemptibly, 'tis because we behold it without Envy. The pretended Charms of the Imagination, the Delicacy and Graces of Wit are so many Snares laid for us; and we cannot too much distrust them, particularly in Conversation, where we are so much the more easily surprised, because we have less time to think, and less Liberty to defend ourselves.  
I come now to those Reflections which still remain to be made on the Subject of Stupidity, having made those which I proposed to myself on the Subject of Wit.   

XXV.  
This Term Stupidity seems to me no less equivocal than that of Wit. We either extend, or confine it more than we ought▪ Men being for the most part taken up with the obscure and confused Ideas they have of Things, they content themselves with the undeterminate and general Terms which express them; without troubling themselves to define them in particular. Thus, what difference soever there be between an Honest Man and an Honest Man, a Man of Wit and a Man of Wit, a Stupid and a Stupid Man, 'tis always to them the same Thing; and those Distinctions so nice and useful pass with them for nothing else but Trifles, which deserve not to be taken notice of.  
To show you however how important those Differences are to such as will not venture to discourse at random, 'tis but considering that all Qualities, whatsoever they be, are different according to the Genius of those who enjoy them; that the Diversity of the Genius proceeds partly from the Difference of the Constitution, Humour and Education; and as those Things change, so the Genius and Qualities of the Mind take different Forms.  
'Tis for this Reason that 'vice or virtue in some Persons, has something very singular which distinguishes it from the same Species of 'vice and virtue in others. One would think their Qualities acquire a particular Character which separate them from all others by the Disposition of the Mind of those which have them. They retain the same Name and general Resemblance, and yet are not the same. We are apt to mistake in it, because very often we have but one and the same Term to express very different Things; which makes us confounded them. The Terms of Stupidity or Folly serve to denote the different Dispositions of Mind in two Persons which pass for Block-heads or Fools. Nevertheless the Stupidity of the one is nothing near the same with that of the other. This Term may give very different Ideas, and we are almost sure to be mistaken by it, if we take Things literally.  
Thence it often happens, that for want of knowing what we say, we commend instead of blaming, and that our eulogies prove bitter Invectives. He that talks thus without knowing what he says, whether he praises or dispraises, rather shows the Disposition of his Heart than the Light of his Understanding; and we have sometimes more Reason than we imagine, to attribute the Good or the Ill which People say of us, to the Goodness or Malice of those who say it, rather than to their Knowledge; tho' they hit upon the truth. For really few Men understand either what is Good or what is Evil in itself, and know nothing of it but what is suggested by the present Disposition of their Hearts to which they ascribe every thing A Man may sometimes pass for a Great Wit, who at another time shall be thought a Sot, if those Persons come to alter their Opinion who once thought him a Wit. We give way to the Passions and Motions of our Heart; but as for Truth, we suffer ourselves to be lead away from it by such giddy Notions as make us unsteady, for want of making the just differences that fix and determine the Mind.  
I observe three different Sorts among those we call, or that may be called Stupid. Some appear to be such, but are so in reality; some seem to be such and yet are not, others in some degree are Stupid, without appearing to be such.  
All the World agrees, that Stupidity, taking this Word in general, is nothing but a Courseness and heaviness of Mind. The natural Slowness of some Mens Actions and Discourses makes them justly pass for Stupid, and their Insensibility in most Things deserves such a judgement to be passed upon them. Enervated by the love of Ease, which their Laziness makes them so desirous of, they fly from all Business; frighted by the Fear which their meanness of Spirit inspires, they decline all Undertakings; and are as difficult to be moved, as they are apt to leave off when in Action.  
They never penetrate into what one says nor conceive it without a great deal of trouble. Their mean Notions, attended by gross and forced Expressions, banish them from all Commerce and human Society They never enter into Conversation but the Disgust they create in others, and the Distaste they have of themselves, soon bring them back to that obscure Idlene●● they prefer before all Things.  
A Wit is one that sparkles in his Discourse, and makes a mighty noise by the vivacity of his Imagination. Whereas the Stupid, being both Dull and Dumb, can neither speak nor answer; his Brain with much ado receiving the weak Impressions of the heavy and pusillanimous. Animal Spirits, produced in little quantity from a gross thick Blood, which circulates but slowly ' and is, consequently never refined enough. The several Ferments which the Viscera prepare are more proper to coagulate, than thin it; and the Nerves being wholly filled with those dull and weak Animal Spirits, want the just Bent which is necessary for them to serve as Organs to the Natural Sense and Motions. Which Motions being consequently but slacken, the Impressions which the Soul receives from them are accordingly the weaker, the Designs shallower, the Genius poorer, and the Person more Stupid.   

XXVI.  
The second Sort is of those who seem to be Stupid, and are not. The Error which most Men lye under on their account is for the most part occasioned by their saying Little, or their talking Ill; by their being too silent, or using improper Expressions.  
They who talk little and seldom do neither move nor delight the Hearers. They who express themselves ill, offend and tr●●ble them. Neither the one nor the other inspire agreeable Thoughts, or give any satisfaction; far therefore from passing for Men of Wit, they rather go for Blockheads amongst certain People. 〈◇〉 w● may be mistaken in it; for tho' Silence be sometimes a mark of Stupidity, yet it may proceed from several other Causes. In 
* Ulterius enim tacere, diffidentiae signum est, non modestiae ratio.  some 'tis a sign of Timidity, in others a token of Modesty, in some others an effect of Distrust, and upon some Occasions it is taken for an Evidence of Conviction. But very often 'tis neither Stupidity, nor Conviction, Distrust, nor Modesty; but rather Prudence and good Sense, that obliges us to Silence, when we find that the good Things we would say will not be well relished, and those we converse with are not disposed to receive them. For we ought not to use our Rhetoric at all times, and before all sorts of Persons.  
Such a Silence is very judicious, and shows a great deal of Sense in those who forbear talking for that Reason. Their Eyes are their Orators; the Air or Gravity of their Countenance, which attends the wise management of their Words, does sufficiently discover the Solidity of their Thoughts; and is so much the juster reproach to our frothy superficial Wits that are not disposed to receive them, as this Air is grounded on a modest Discretion, not Insolence.  
We are no less deceived in the judgement we make on those Men which pass for Stupid, or at least for People of indifferent Parts, because of the difficulty they lye under to express themselves. They have very often the same Thoughts a Wit may have on the same Subject; and all the Difference is, that a Wit utters them with Freedom and Ease, whereas the other does it but weakly and with trouble. The one rich in fine Terms, neither stops nor hesitates in Conversation; the other, poor in Expressions, but rich in Thoughts, confounds himself when he talks, and often is forced to give off. Yet if he does chance to utter his Notions, tho' with never so many blunders, we plainly see through the Confusion of his Words, what there is in his Thoughts; and that the good Things he thus expressed with Confusion, would have been Charming and excellent, if they had been delivered in polite neat Expressions.  
Let us not deceive ourselves; those who talk ill are very often such as have the best Thoughts. The Confusion which appears in their Discourse proceeds wholly from the justness of their Notions. They think too well, to discourse so well, and are only perplexed, because they do not find the force of common Expressions comes up to the loftiness of their Notions, these being too noble for their Expressions, or their Expressions too mean for their Notions. Their Want of Uniformity hinders their Coherence, and the search they make after more noble Expressions, very often leads them from that plain natural style which is most pleasing to the Mind. As they are confined within the bounds of a Language which to their Fancy is not full enough, 'tis impossible but their Discourse must betray constraint. They are too solid in their Thoughts, and for that very Reason, too much cramped in their Expressions.  
On the contrary the fine Talkers do not always utter the best Things. Their Ideas are very often as weak, as their Expressions are delicate; and this great facility of Expression is sometimes a sensible Sign of the poorness of their Genius. As they comprehend Little, and never dive into the bottom of Things, so they never want Words to express their few Conceptions. They have more than is requisite, and 'twere to be wished they were not so fluent; for as they have the Skill to make their Expressions easy and agreeable, so they make a false Eloquence their chief Business. They talk for the pure sake of talking, and very often utter Things of no weight: Which is enough for them, because their feeble Ideas are soon unraveled; and there needs no great Efforts for so trifling a business. But a Man of judgement cannot be satisfied with the emptiness he finds under a fine Superficies. On the contrary he is often disgusted, for not finding the good Things he in vain searched after under those appearances.  
If we judge of it by the Outside only, we are apt to mistake grossly in those two Characters of Wit. The one is thought Sprightly, because it easily discovers itself, and under agreeable appearances, the other is condemned as Stupid, because it cannot show itself with ease, and sprightliness. But in the bottom this does not fall short of the other; since a Wit of this Character may have at least as strong an Imagination, and perhaps more regular. His Brain is very likely of as good a Constitution, and his Animal Spirits have their requisite Qualities in a sufficient Quantity. But he has the misfortune not to be able to turn or dispose those Spirits towards those Parts of the Brain where they ought to run to find the strong Expressions he stands in need of. And, had he that Power, he would turn them perhaps to no purpose, because the order of the Fibres of his Brain would be found so made in those Parts, that the Spirits cannot make a free Passage, nor beat themselves easy Paths. For which Reason when they are pushed and pressed, they are obliged, either to make some Effort to force the Obstacles, or to turn and seek some other Passages. This puts all into disorder, and causes a Confusion, which seems to be in the Mind and Imagination, tho' in effect very often in the Words and Discourse.   

XXVIII.  
If those Persons seem to be Stupid and are not so, there are others, without appearing to be so, come extremely near it.  
These are not so silent as the others. They talk when they find an Opportunity, and also express themselves fluently and with ease; but whatever they say, or discourse of, they only report what they have red or heard, and produce nothing of their own. They say nothing here but what they have heard elsewhere, and as they easily retain what they hear, they repeat a hundred times the same things, if they find as many Opportunities. They tyre those who have the Patience to hear them, and would be much concerned should they omit the least Circumstance. They deliver every Thing as they learned it, even the most frivolous and useless; as careful to remember Trifles, as incapable of remarking good Things.  
We are seldom deceived in them; for being unwholesome and tedious 'tis impossible they should be listed among the Wits. To their good Memory they owe the Quality of Stupid by which they may be denominated, because in Effect they are so in some degree, and make a Species of them.  
An ancient graecian has with Reason looked upon an entire Defect of Memory to be a Sign of Stupidity. Had he but turned his Eyes on the opposite side, he would have perhaps remarked, that there is also a kind of Stupidity which nearly follows too good a Memory. If some Men be so Stupid as to forget every Thing, there are others no less Stupid, for retaining all they red or hear. If the Memory fails in those, it is so full and so present to these, that it leaves them not the Liberty to think of what they ought, nor sometimes of what they would. Which may pass under the Notion of Stupidity.  
To make this clearer, I find myself obliged to give my Sentiments on the Subject of Memory, and to speak of its Effects and Uses. Which will not be altogether incongruous, because erroneously Men often give it the Title of Wit, tho' it has nothing which renders it worthy of that Honour.   

XXIX.  
Experience proves a good Memory and sound judgement to be almost inconsistent; and that those who are so very happy in their Memory, are not very often so in their Judgments.  
Reason also agrees with Experience in this, and will not suffer us to doubt of this Truth; for 'tis certain that to judge well, we must know the Thing we would judge of, that we must by consequence examine it, see what is proper and suitable to it, and what is not, compare it with those Things to which it may have some Relation, to discover in what it resembles, and wherein it differs from them.  
But to be capable of doing this, we must be in a Condition to perceive the Ideas which answer to the Things we examine. We must have a sufficient Capacity of Mind, to comprehend several Things at the same time; and not be encumber'd by others which have no relation to them. We must be able to turn and wind them on every side, and behold them in every Form. In a word, we ought to have the Mind Free, and the judgement Sound. Now this Freedom of Mind and Soundness of judgement, is not to be found in those who have so excellent and so good a Memory.  
They have their Brain so disposed, as to receive profound Impressions of Things that please it; and those Impressions do not easily wear out. Their Animal Spirits are strong enough, and sufficiently agitated to make those Impressions; and their Constitution of Brain is proper to preserve them, when once made. These Spirits make themselves free Passages in the Brain, and pass very often without interrupting their Course. The very Impressions formed by the Course of these Spirits are made in great Number in a very little time, so far from confounding each other, that on the contrary they join together with a kind of Order and a certain Disposition of Parts. Then, by the Union of the Soul and the Body, which is as admirable as 'tis incomprehensible, the Mind receives the Ideas of Things which answer to those Impressions; it sees, and is pleased with them. They even present themselves to it in the same Order that the Impressions imprinted in the Brain preserve. And, because those Impressions are deep and not easily razed out, and that the Animal Spirits may run into it several times without hindrance, the Ideas which answer to it ought also to return and present themselves very often at several times. Herein we may make the Memory to consist, which is esteemed so much the more happy, as it preserves whatever is committed to it, and the more faithfully it represents it as Occasion serves.   

XXX.  
But, if we consider the narrow Bounds and small Extent of our Understanding, how large soever our Vanity makes them, we may easily perceive, that a Man whose Brain freely receives strong Impressions he a long time preserves, is not really in a Condition to receive any of those which are as soon effaced as made, to make room for others ready to follow them, and which must also yield their Place to new ones when they come, to the end that the Mind attentive, as I have said, to different Ideas, at the same time those different Impressions are made, may see them as it were pass by successively, to know which it ought to join, and which it ought to separate; or which is much the same Thing, to judge of them as well as of the Things they represent.  
He will, I say, find it very difficult, if he has made some use of his Memory, to banish from his Mind a mighty Number of Ideas it crowds in upon him, to apply himself solely to those he ought to consider. There will always intervene either false or different ones from the Subject, that will go near to disturb him, and which mixing unseasonably with the first, will break all his Designs, and take from him the Liberty of judgement, by the Confusion they'll occasion in his Mind.  
Does it not sometimes happen, that a Word red or suggested, puts us upon a Discourse we had utterly forgot? that we remember a proper Name difficult to recall, by only seeing the first Syllable? that one Feature of a Man's Face brings afresh into our Minds another which resembles it? 'tis but determining for that the Animal Spirits to some Motion; which of themselves take that Course which is most easy unto them; and so dispose our Mind to follow them, and fix upon the Ideas they discover to it.  
The same Thing happens to Men of too good a Memory, almost upon all Occasions of Discourse and Conversation. They have no sooner cast their Eyes upon one Thing, but their Memory represents to them another, which because it has some Likeness with the first, is not however the Thing in question; and not having at that instant the free Liberty of discerning, they suffer themselves to be drawn whither the Animal Spirits take their unexpected Course. Which being more free and easy that way than any other, become so rapid, that in vain would they endeavour to retain them, should they perceive their Error. Thus always interrupted and rambling, they never come to the Point. Their Judgments are false, and Arguments imperfect. Attention so necessary to all Men to inform themselves of Things, and comprehend what they are, very often serves but to make them more obscure, in disposing their Minds to Error and falsehood, and so leading their Thoughts from the Subject in hand.  
For a Proof of my Assertion, I need no other Instance, but such Men as have taken more Care to cultivate their Memories than their Minds. 'Tis very usual with them when they talk, to fill their Conversation with Stories and Relations, which being pleasantly turned engages the Minds of the Hearers, and makes them lose the natural Connexion of the Discourse, or so changes the Order of it, that it is no more the same. 'Tis in vain for one to expect they should resume the Thread of their Subject, who do not so much as think on't, because, supported by their Memory, they have no sooner finished one Story, but they endeavour to crowd in another, which immediately leads them to a third, if they find the Company in the least disposed to hear them. For those Gentlemen have never done, and yet do not answer the Intent. But, if they seem to touch again at what was first proposed, 'tis but en passant. As little able to Judge, as excellent at Reciting, they do not Argue, or else they Argue very ill; and amuse you only with Tales and Absurdities. This is that which I think I may call one Species of Stupidity, and to be really Stupid in some manner, without appearing to be so.   

XXXI.  
What hinders Men the most from seeing this Defect, is a certain Education too common in the World, even amongst those who think themselves the most Ingenious. They are more addicted to red than make Reflections, and particularly to red those Books which please and delight more than Instruct. They form to themselves a fine Idea of Knowledge and Learning, by endeavouring to red every Thing, and to retain all they red, but principally those things which may serve to please or distinguish them in Company, as Poetry, History, great Exploits, Genealogies, witty Jests, and the like, for in reality, those Things infinitely please, and though very often they no not distinguish the useful from the useless part of them, provided they take a proper time to recite them, they may hope to gain the Minds of most Men, to prepossess them, and by this means obtain their Esteem. So that if a natural Disposition draws Men of good Memory into the aforesaid Errors, the Pleasure they find, and the Pride they take in them does not a little contribute to confirm 'em therein. And we are not surprised, that even those who have not this Gift of Nature, endeavour to cultivate their Memory to the Prejudice of their Mind, and fill it with a vast Number of Facts heaped the one upon the other, to use upon Occasion to gain the Admiration of those who highly applaud a good Memory, and are delighted with Narrations.  
I do not here examine whence it happens, that we are more willing to hear those who relate a Story, than those who argue or discuss a Point, and that our conversation runs most upon Recitals. But I well know that by this very Thing Men of good Memories are distinguished, and that they set too great a Value upon themselves for it. They discourse when others are obliged to be silent; and all the Company turns and listens to them. They are the only Men taken notice of; 'tis not civil to interrupt 'em, but a sign of Folly and Levity not to be attentive; and we constantly extol and praise them. How can they choose but be pleased? and why should not others endeavour to excel the same way? They gain the Hearts and Minds, and are reckoned ingenious Men, in spite of good Sense, as also of those who have a greater Esteem for it than Memory. 'Tis such an Allurement to the entirely cherishing of this, and abandoning the other, that they render themselves incapable of making a right Use of it.  
A good Memory, I must confess, is a mighty Help, and such as deserves to be ranked amongst the good Qualifications of an ingenious Man. There are a Thousand Occasions where we can do nothing without it; it being not only advantageous to us; but also absolutely necessary. The Mischief is, that we can scarce enjoy this Quality, but we in some manner neglect the judgement, which is, much more preferable. Let Men then if they please study the Perfection of their Memory, I consent to it, provided they take more care of their Minds; let 'em exercise that, provided they make more use of this. Happy are they who have a just regard both for the one and the other. But, by way of Caution, if one minds it well, 'tis infinitely better to render one's self capable of judging, than remembering well; and I hold it for a certain Maxim, that good Sense may in some Occasions supply the want of Memory; whereas the extraordinary Talent of remembering cannot on any Occasion supply the want of good Sense.   

XXXII.  
Imagination, as I have made it appear, is not that which makes a Man of judgement. 'Tis plain Memory does it less. We then unjustly give them that fine Ti●●●● and 'tis in vain the Wit extols and gl●●●●es its self for the same, for since all the pretended Excellency of his Genius consists wholly in these two Faculties, he ought to confine himself there, and not attribute to hims●●● what belongs not to him, nor give himself out for what he is not. Yet we must allow this to most Men's shane, that if a Wit deceives and imposes on us in Conversation, 'tis as much occasioned by the Prepossession of the Hearers, as by the Talent of the Speaker, who being flattered( as has been already observed) with a secret Pride, as the Hearers are drawn away by a sensible Pleasure, are both mistaken, tho' they touch one another unseen. They wish for one another's Company, and none are more joyful than they when together, because of the Pleasure they reciprocally afford to each other, not for any Light or Instructions they communicate.  
I do not pretend by this to change familiar Discourses and common Conversation into Philosophical Conferences, or Schools of Learning. Any thing that savours of Instruction is offensive in Conversation, and nothing appears so insupportable in it as the Liberty some People take of prescribring Rules to all the World. I pity such as fall un●●● the hands of Men, who with the Air 〈◇〉 School-Master will undertake to teach them. We must break off, and fly the Conversation of those who Dogmatize on every Thing; such a Domineering Method being apt to make the Mind rebel. But, I am forced to say it, there is not a less Inconvenience in the other extreme, and I believe that if we would enjoy the Pleasure of Conversation as delicate Wits, we should also take an Advantage of it as reasonable Men.  
There is nothing in my Opinion, that spoils so much the judgement of a Gentleman, as his delighting too much in a false Delicacy. 'Tis nourishing one's self with Meats of little Substance; and how agreeable soever they may be to the Palate, they are certainly too light for Use. That which pleases most the Mind, is not what contributes the most to the instructing it. We ought to distrust those who supply and fill up Conversation with so much Vivacity and Fineness, and ought to dread the falling into such nice Company as much as Mariners do Rocks. If I did not know how easy it were to discover the wretched Emptiness and Vanity of such Conversation, I would farther enlarge myself upon it to give you an exact Description of it. But its Faults being daily exposed to the Eyes of all the World, I shall not insist upon showing what is but too much in sight. 'Twill suffice for the Conclusion of this Part, to remark two or three of those principal Defects, being as it were the Fountain of all others, and the most common to our Wits.   

XXXIII.  
The Freedom of Conversation does not exclude Bounds and Rules. 'Tis a Commerce of Thoughts and Words; and a good Order and Method is as necessary to carry on that Commerce as any other; we ought to receive and return it with some sort of Harmony. But a Wit, who is as ready to judge as to discourse, decides immediately every Thing, and answers before he has well heard what was said. His Vivacity transports him; and by the very first Advances he makes, we may perceive he's going too fast. Thus Conversation becomes a Club of Noise and Chattering, where Men talk a great deal, and say little to the purpose.  
In the second place, the just distrust modest Men have of their Notions, makes them consider 'em before hand, after which they utter those they think most reasonable, and keep the others to themselves. Such Men offer nothing rashly. But a Wit, full of himself, and a great Admirer of his own Opinions, cannot forbear uttering all he knows, and talking of every Thing. This Itch of talking proceeds for the most part from an insatiable Desire of having People speak advantageously of him; and the Ambition of being esteemed, which would not be perhaps an Imperfection in another, is really so in him, because he is immoderate, and his Pride is the Occasion of it.  
In the third place, a Man who is a Master of Wit never boasts much of it; but is rather for valuing that of other Men, and wisely knowing that we do not love to be out-done; but principally in ingenuity and Wit, if he finds he has any Advantage over others, he modestly hides their want of it. A Wit is ignorant of those Maxims, or cannot make use of them. He will engross Wit to himself, and earnestly wishes that all other Men were Fools; and as in his Temper he is apt to scorn and deride others, so he sleights every Thing which is not the Product of his own Brain.  
In short, every Thing, and Conversation among the rest, ought to have its just Limits. We are to live, not to be always together. As too long a Retirement dulls the Spirits, so too frequent a keeping of Company is apt to dissipate 'em; and the most solid Mind may be weakened by either of them. By the one it becomes like those heavy Bodies which have no Strength or Vigour, for want of Exercise; and by the other, like those that are wasted and spent, for want of Rest. But a Wit flies at all, and takes as much Pains to show himself as the Stupid does to conceal himself. Always wandring, unsettled, and forward to appear, he bestows himself upon all sorts of Men, because he can't enjoy himself. Happy if content with himself, as much as many others are with him, he had not the Conversation of certain could and reserved Men to fear, who neither make too much hast, nor perplex themselves, but always give themselves the leisure to examine Things by Reason, rather than be surprised and seduced by the Senses.     

PART II. Of WIT in BOOKS.  

I.  
ALL Witty Compositions may be reduced to the Three following Heads, viz. Poetry, Oratory, or History. For I suppose a Man of Wit designs to pass either for a Poet, an Orator, or an Historian.  
If he's a Poet, and has a happy Talent in that sort of Poetry he pretends to, I know nothing that sooner gains him the Character he so much affects, I mean that of Wit, that recommends and sets him off to more Advantage, than this single Qualification. A few Stanzas, an Ode, or a Poem, made and approved of by certain Persons, at a happy juncture, and in some certain Circumstances, have seldom failed to entitle him to the Name of a Wit, to distinguish him from the common Herd, and to procure him an honourable Place among the Wits in some famous Academies.  
Poetry has wonderful Charms, and of all the different Branches of Wit, that of a good Poet is the most agreeable, and most taking: For which Reason I readily own it better deserves this Name than any other Quality; and I may venture once more to affirm it after I have  told my Reader what I understand by that Term.  
If we respect only the Senses, and their Pleasures, the Imagination, and its Charms, the Passions and their Motions; a good Poet, I confess, is really inestimable; because amongst the other Pleasures of the Mind, the Talent of Poetry is the most exquisite, especially to Persons of a delicate Fancy.  
But if we will guide ourselves by our Reason and its Decisions, this Quality becomes on a sudden contemptible; the pretended Charms and Excellencies of a Poets Wit being like those dull heavy Beauties we look on with Indifference.   

II.  
Before we determine any Thing in this Matter, we must first consider, whether we mean to examine the Thing in itself, or in Relation to ourselves, whether we design our Pleasure, or Truth. After which we may take which side we please, either that of Imagination or Reason, the Senses or the Mind, which are Things altogether op●●site. We ought to leave Imagination to the Poets and their Favourers. Let us allow their Fancy to be never so Lively, Vast and Charming to a Wonder, they may pass for Wits indeed; but how can the greatest Part of them pretend to the Character of Men of judgement, who reason weakly, and whose Knowledge is narrow and scanty? By consequence they are not so worthy as we think them of the Admiration of rational Men, nor of the esteem of the Learned.  
I say the greatest part of them, for the Rule is not without Exception. I know some who are so happy as to join the Delicacy of Fancy with an excellent judgement, the Solid with the Agreeable. But I speak in general, the Mind in Poetry wanders and roves, and a solid judgement can hardly reconcile itself to the Liberties of Poetry.  
There is nothing comparable to the Trouble a warmed Imagination occasions in a Poets Mind? nothing can equal the Co●●●sion caused in it by the delicate Pleasu●●●e feels and makes others sensible of.  
When a Poet has for some time strained himself to bring forth excellent Noti●ns upon his Subject in hand; when he has often put his thoughts upon the Rack, to find a proper Expression or a Rhyme; if he will but reflect on the Impressions which are formed in his Brain, and the Images they represent, where is then the Liberty of his Mind? and what Use can he make of it? If he meditates, he creeps; if he examines, he falls. He must necessary abandon himself wholly to his Imagination, and its Flights; he must push it forward, and follow it close. For, the more it is heated, the loftier the Thoughts seem to be, the more it is kept up, the nobler are the Expressions.  
— Sectantem levia, nervi  
Deficiunt, animique; professus grandia, turget;  
Serpit humi, tutus nimium, timidusque procelsae.  
We must then subdue our Reason, if Imagination must rule; weaken the one, to fortify the other; for we cannot put them in the same Degree, nor place them in the same Rank.   

III.  
●t being the principal business of a Poet ●aint well, and make lively Images of ●t he conceives, he must be as much, if ●more, employed in the search of Words, ● their Measure, than the nature of ●ngs. The stronger the Expression is, the more lively and agreeable is the Impression it makes. He must therefore strain himself to humour a strong Imagination rather than consult just and good Reason, and rather aim at lively Representations, than right and solid judgement.  
'Tis the Property of the Mind to instruct and enlighten, and of the Imagination to touch and delight; as that of the Passions to move. If a Poet does not please, he's insipid; if he does not move, he's could. He must therefore be touched first himself, and moved by the very Passion he would excite. Passions are commonly moved by Passions, and Motions caused by the like Motions. We then ought to consider a Poet moved, touched, and troubled as many ways as he has Sentiments to express, and Motions to follow; and by a necessary Consequence, always deprived of that Force and Liberty, in which alone the Exactness and Perfection of his Mind consists.  
Far from preserving his Own, he must deprive others of theirs, to please them and make himself admired. It is not allowable in a Poet to be indifferent. He must either Charm, or Disgust, Excel, or Creep; there is no Medium. I believe it proceeds from this, that a Poet who means to gain Applause, ought not to give his Mind leisure to know itself, nor his Reason the time to examine. Verses ought to move, and ravish, every time we red or hear them red. If they do not, but leave our Minds free, Reason will soon enter, which for the most part not finding any thing in them worthy its Consideration, despises the Terms, and laughs at their fine Order and jingling. The Imagination finds not its satisfaction in them, Reason much less. Thus every Thing languishes, and the Poet is cried down.  
Non satis est Pulchra esse poemata, dulcia simto;  
Et quocunque volent animum Auditoris agunto.  
Not but Men may so writ, that Reason may have as great a Share as Imagination, and that the Readers may find wherewithal to exercise the one, as well as satisfy the other. There are Men of that excellent Genius, who at the same time Please and Instruct, move and enlighten; but this is so extraordinary, and 'tis so difficult to keep ●s Order, that a Poet finds it more his Advantage to overthrow it, in giving a free scope to Imagination, and little to Reason. It ought, generally speaking, to be with Verses, as with the Beams of the Sun, which we cannot steadfastly look on without being dazzled by them. The number of passionate is much greater than that of moderate Men, and a Poet who has the Secret to move, and to inspire great Thoughts, shall always pass for a good Poet. But if he be not so to all the World, 'tis because the Dispositions of the Brain in all Men are not the same, and that their Minds are not equally affencted with the same Things. In those Things which depend solely on good Sense, 'tis purely Want of Understanding which makes that displease one Man which is approved by another. But in what depends on Imagination, if Men do not agree, 'tis because some have a fainter, or a different Relish of Things, than others. Reason is always One, and Pure; but the Senses are almost every where Different.   

IV.  
Those who only writ to move the Passions, how agreeable soever their Performance be, must not expect to be approved of by all the World; not even by those who wholly judge by their Passions. We have a great Instance of it in the Judgments passed upon two great Poets of our Time.  
The Age is so Fantastical, that Men who reject all manner of Rules, only to apply themselves to what pleases and flatters their Imagination, have sometimes despised Racine, as delicate, and as insinuating a Poet as he is, and cannot enough esteem Corneille who commands and instructs them: Men that fly from every Thing that requires Approbation, that cannot relish a moral and imperious Character both together, who cannot suffer before their Eyes Examples they cannot follow, nor Actions they cannot imitate, are the first to prefer the Works of Corneille, before those of Racine: Tho' the Character of the last is most natural, exposing only the Idea of Motions we ourselves follow, and see followed by others; setting before our Eyes those Actions we find ourselves capable of, and to which we are naturally inclined. We also see Corneille crowned with laurels by those who are angry and disgusted with the least Fault in the Language; who love only that which delicately moves, whilst they can scarcely say one favourable Word of Racine, who is rich in his Thoughts, correct in his Expressions, and who Flatters and Pleases.  
But if we consider, that the Passions, which are the same in all Men, are not of the same Force in all; that there are governing and predominant Passions, which however do not always Rule and upon all Occasions in the Hearts of those they possess; that there are others which for a time usurp their Place, which inspire new Sentiments, and give another Prospect of Things; we shall not be astonished that those who now are charmed with that which Tickles and Flatters, at another Time are only touched by that which surprises. The Passion for the Sublime, and Noble style, prevails then over the Moving and Pathetical. The Soft and Tender Expressions yield to the Sublime and Lofty, till on some other Occasion it resumes its first Place, and makes way for its opposite Sentiments.  
The Spirit of Grandeur in most of the Works of Corneille, makes a far deeper Impression on some Men when disposed for it, than the Tenderness which is inspired in them by the Writings of Racine; and on the contrary in the Minds of a great many others, or indeed of themselves at another Time, the Flattering and Tender style of Racine, shall be infinitely esteemed before the Loftiness of Corneille.  
All Men are of a different Temper; and the Temperament in each Man is not always the same as to every Thing. The Blood and the Spirits are disposed in some otherwise than in others, and receive great Changes in every particular Man. They are more or less could or Hot, according as they are fixed or agitated by their several Ferments. The Course of the Spirits is not always equal in the Brain, and goes not with the same Force; thence it happens that in Things which depend on the Imagination, one is for the Sublime, another for the Delicate and Charming; some delight in that which raises the Mind, others in that which moves; and if the delicate Fancy of these is charmed with the Writings of Racine, the Pride of the others finds its Satisfaction in the Writings of Corneille. The truth is, if we will give a rational judgement, we must own there is a great deal of Softness and Passion in Corneille upon several Occasions, as well as of the Great and Sublime in Racine, and that they are two excellent Men in their several Ways of Writing.   

V.  
If to avoid the Medium so fatal to Poets, it is often convenient for them to surprise by their Sublimity, it does not less concern them to 'allure by Pleasure. They must either dazzle or Please, two dangerous Rocks, against which most Poets are Wreck'd. The Danger is so much the greater; because it is not sufficient for a Poet to writ fine or pretty Things; but he must also meet with Men disposed to relish them. The difficult Point therefore of a Poet, is to find the most natural Way to quicken the Fancy, and the Art chiefly consists, in my Opinion, in the choice, in the harmony and just measures he observes, in the most exact, convenient, and natural Cadence of his Verses, in Reference to those who red them, and to the Subject he treats of. We often find that only by a handsome and noble, but principally a new Turn of Expression, a Poet pleases, and makes himself esteemed.  
Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum  
Reddiderit junctura novum.  
Few Men penetrate any farther, being as it were enchanted by the peculiar Order and Placing of the Words, the happy Choice of the Rhymes, and a Concord of Sounds and Words which make a kind of Harmony.  
The Reason is, because there is a certain Proportion which agrees with the Imagination in those Things that depend on it, as we find there is one which pleases the Senses in sensible Objects. As the Ear is pleased with an Harmony of Sounds, the Taste with a certain seasoning of Meat well dressed, and the Sight with a certain diversity of Colours well sorted and matched; so we find in Things well imagined, and in just Expressions, a certain Turn, a certain Measure, a certain Congruity which pleases, and makes us own the Poet happy in his Thoughts. If this Proportion be not exactly just, if there be the least Defect, it offends. Some Things there are which cannot properly be introduced into some Subjects, and therefore 'tis absurd to crowd them there, while others come naturally and proper to the Subject.  
We may easily perceive those differences, without being able to determine either in what they consist, or from whence they proceed; because judging of them only by the Senses or the Imagination. We cannot know what Things are but as they relate to ourselves. If they are Good or Evil, that is to say, if they please or displease us, for 'tis the Pleasure or the Pain they create in us, which makes us pass our Verdict accordingly.  
This Pleasure whether it proceeds from the Senses, or the Imagination, is often produced by a certain Conformity between Us and the Objects. Which Conformity makes us admire and relish them, as their Disproportion offends and makes us hate them.  
According as those comformities are more or less just, the Pleasures are more or less great; which is another Reason that amongst the Things we relish, we like some better than others, what we love at one time we slight at another, and what pleases one day may displease us the next.  
An excellent Poet of old Rome was not ignorant of what importance it was, to make his Verses acceptable, to neck the Time wherein there would be most Conformity between his Epigrams, and the Disposition of the Mind of him to whom he addressed Them, when he said, 
Hora libellorum decima est, Eupheme, meorum,  
Temperat ambrosia● cum tua cura dapes,  
Et bonus aethereo laxatur nectare Caesar.   
He thought it the best Time for his Verses to be red, when the Imagination of the Prince warmed with Wine, and disposing him to Pleasure and Mirth, put some Proportion between his jovial Humour, and the Poets Wit and gaiety. On the contrary his Muse durst not, said he, appear in a free and sedate Time, when the Prince possessed with solid Thoughts, was of a much colder Temper; because his Gravity and Seriousness would not be pleased with his Wit and Jesting.  
— Gressu timet ire licenti  
Ad matutinum nostra Thalia Jovem:  
Nothing so much proves the Truth of what I have said, as the Sentiments that almost all the World has of Verses and Poets. We do not like them but when the Measure, the Choice of Words, the Harmony of Rhymes, the natural Connexion of the Verses and their particular Order, the Turn of Expression, and the Proportion well observed in all those Things, flatter our Imagination, and raise our Fancy, by the present Conformity they have with us.  
If those Proportions are not well observed, if the Expressions are mean, the Style perplexed, the Measures false, they produce nothing but a Dissonance, which displeases and tires us by its Disproportion.   

VI.  
With the good leave of our Poets, th● whole Secret of their Art consists in finding Terms, and ranging them in good Order.  
— Nisi quod pede certo  
Differt Sermoni, Sermo merus.  
'Tis most commonly the only Thing that distinguishes them. The Beauty of their Thoughts vanishes, almost as soon as you strip them of the Beauty of their Expressions. Let us take one of the finest Places of any Poet, which we have been the most charmed with, and turn it into another Language, or into the same in other Terms; that very Place shall immediately lose its Excellency, and very often becomes Mean and Dull, 
— Eripias si  
Tempora certa, modosque & quod prius ordine verbum est  
Posterius facias, praeponens ultima primis.  By which we see that Imagination has a greater share in Poetry than the Mind; that 'tis Imagination that forms the noble Talent of a Poet, and which alone makes that Sort of Wits.  
Not that I design absolutely to exclaim against all sorts of Poetry, or declare myself a sworn Enemy of the Poets. I must own it, I esteem their Talent, and set a Value on their fine Verses. I am, like others, pleased with them, but they must pardon me if I cannot aclowledge them to be what they are not, nor esteem them more than they really deserve.  
There are two sorts of Men who are always opposing each other; those who aim at Niceness and Delicacy, and those who affect Soundness of Reason. The former laugh at the latter for their Pedantry, and these scorn the others for their want of solid judgement. Neither of 'em are much to blame; for Delicacy ought to be supported by Solidity, and this ought to be adorned with Delicacy. Without this Temperament, the one seems Light and Ridiculous, and the other Wild and Enthusiastick.  
This Dispute is chiefly carried on between the Philosophers and Poets. The Philosopher in the Poet's Opinion is nothing but a dreaming Dotard, and the Philosopher thinks the Poet an airy Coxcomb. To put an end to this Controversy, the Philosopher should be more polished, and the Poet more Solid.  
'Tis unreasonable to think, that a great Capacity and sound judgement is the only Qualification that is required in solid and serious Works; and that a neat Invention, and Delicacy will suffice in those that are fine and agreeable. For both the one and the other would be exceedingly better and of greater worth, if Reason and Politeness governed equally in them both; and if we would endeavour to be Witty, without being less Rational, or follow good Sense, without being less Polite.   

VII.  
What I have said of a Wit who valves himself for his Poetry, I may almost say of him who pretends to distinguish himself by his Eloquence. Their Talents are vey different; yet they have this common to them both; that True Wit has scarce any share in their Productions. 'Tis only another Turn of Imagination, which distinguishes the Orator from the Poet; 'tis another Manner of surprising, and Moving, which are the two principal Ends of a Wit, Whatever Talent he has to Compass them.  
As the Design of a Poet is to represent Things well, and to turn his Conceptions into lively and sensibly Images in his Verse; so all the Skill of an Orator consists in giving you fine Draughts of his Imagination in his Eloquence. But as neither of them can draw( if I may use that Expression) but after the Images and Expressions engraved in their Brain, and which properly they do but Copy; they must of necessity strongly apply their Minds to those Images and incessantly look on them; always enslave to their Imaginations, as well as guilty of all the Violence they commit on Reason, and all the Disorder they cause in the Mind. For if once they take their Imagination for their Guide, they must absolutely follow it, and resolve at the same time to fall into all its Errors.  
For this Reason we must not think it strange, if their Paintings,( otherwise very fine) are in reality so little Natural, and if those we call Wits palm false and counterfeit Thoughts upon us. They scarcely see any thing but through thick Clouds raised by their overheated Imaginations in their Minds; that is, by the Impressions the Animal Spirits which are subtle and agitated engrave in their Brain; as I have already explained it in Conformity to the Nature of the Fibres, the Disposition of the Blood, and Quality of the Ferments which mix with them.   

VIII.  
There are two sorts of Eloquence, a True, and a False one; and there are two sorts of Genius which put them both in practise. Some apply themselves as much, if not more, to the Knowledge of the Matter they are to speak of, than to the Manner; and use all their Skill to manage well their Subject rather than embellish it. Others never penetrate into their Subject, but make it their whole Business to find out the manner and means of rendering it agreeable; these labour rather to adorn than dive into it, and take less care to discover what it is, than to disguise it by making it appear what it is not.  
We may easily discover the difference of those sorts of Eloquence, if we will but consider their principal Ends. True Eloquence has three, viz. to Instruct, Please, and Persuade; as a famous Orator handsomely expresses it. Ut Veritas pateat, ut Veritas placeat, ut Veritas moveat. False Eloquence has also three Ends, viz. to dazzle, to Touch, and surprise. They absolutely differ, both in their Ends and Ways. For tho' both may very often equally Please and Persuade, there is yet this Difference between them, that one is for the Pleasure of the Senses and Imagination, and the other for the Pleasure of the Mind. One persuades by Reason, the other by Impression. And because neither of 'em can attain their Ends but by assiduously applying themselves to fine Imaginations, and noble Descriptions, to do it effectually, the one must first bring forth the Products of Imagination with the Conceptions of the Mind, and compare the Images engraven in the Brain with the clear Ideas of the Mind; whereas the other submits all to the Information of the Senses, and judges as Fancy leads him.   

IX.  
Let us now see if true Eloquence, such as it ought to be in its natural Purity, whose Source is the Light of the Mind, and which takes only from a well regulated Imagination those Helps that are necessary to produce this Light, can be the part of a Wit.  
To solve this Doubt, we need only reflect upon the Works of several Men, either printed or spoken, even of those, who, by I know not what good Fortune have gained the Admiration of the World. What fine Words! What Phrases! What Antitheses! What Flights! What Fire do we not find in their Orations! But, if we do but seriously penetrate into the Bottom of them, we shall find it all to be but Emptiness 
* 
Multa sine sensu dicta, ut expleatur circuitus:  
Curamus ut numerus constet, non curamus ut sensus.  . I should never have done, if I here were minded to recite all the particular Examples of this false Eloquence, our Libraries would furnish me with Volumes full of ' em. But a few Reflections will serve to remark the Faults committed by these Wits in their Pieces of Oratory, by which they proposed to raise their Reputation in the World.  
When we say such a Man is a Man of Eloquence, we mean one who produces just Notions on the Subject he treats of; who finds proper and genuine Reasons for what he says; and who has the Art and Talent to explain them in a lively, but pure and clear manner to others. For after all, a Discourse has no true Ornaments, but such as are extracted from the Justness of the Thoughts that compose it, from the Soundness of the Reasons that support it, and from the natural Manner of turning it.  
Thus we banish from true Oratory those vain embellishments which disfigure it; such as rambling and general Notions, weak and scattered Reasons, useless Digressions, strained Figures, and forced Comparisons; in a Word, all those Frothy Speeches full of nothing but Words, and little to the Purpose. A Man of Wit seems to me the most subject to fall into all these Errors and Extravagancies, as well in respect of his style as Thoughts, the two principal Things which ought to fix our judgement either in reading, or hearing.  
As among those who pretend to writ, either in Prose or Verse, a Wit is one that makes the greatest Efforts to show and distinguish himself by his style; so the Ambition he has to writ something extraordinary makes him fall into two inevitable Errors, common to all vain and presumptuous Authors, viz. Meanness and Confusion. Nicety, and too trifling a Delicacy, insensibly entangles him in the first; and the Sublime, or Admirable he affects, leads him into the other, according as his Imagination more or less hurries him to be Sublime or delicate, and he can never express himself in a noble style, without swelling, and in a Delicate without too much Nicety.   

X.  
If the Works of a Witty Man want the Graces of Plainness and Clearness of Style, we will find much less Truth and Instruction in his Sentiments.  
He that will not reflect on the Natural Knowledge which our Mind discovers as it were within itself, whenever he will seriously fix upon it; that will not dive again into the first Principles, and those great and first Truths on which depend● the Certainty of all the rest; and who will not bring back again to them that Chain of Reflections Custom obliges us to make; such a Man can never know any Truths with Assurance, even of those that are commonly received. He shall neither be well convinced, nor strongly persuaded of any Thing, not even of that which he believes he knows the best; because he only believes it but by Prepossession; without any other Foundation than what he builds on weak Conjectures, on the Authority of others, or the Opinion of the World.  
We ought not therefore to expect any Thing excellent from an Author, but in proportion as he is capable of making Reflections. Now I'll leave you to judge if a giddy fickle Imagination, and a false Delicacy ever give a Wit the leisure to make any serious Reflections.  
Nevertheless he is applauded, and esteemed by most Men, tho' Clearness, the chief Beauty of any Discourse( as a great Orator tells us) is seldom seen in his Works, and altho' he amuses us either with unintelligible Stuff or false Reasoning, because we are commonly such Fools as to be pleased with it. Those pretended fine Things we find in them, the more Obscure they are, the more Beautiful they appear; they fill the Imagination, or please the Mind; which is the Reason that we either Admire, or Love them.   

XI.  
By the Admiration which arises from the Impression made in the Brain by something which appears very Extraordinary, or from the Surprise it produces in the Soul, the Animal Spirits dispersed in the Nerves, move with greater swiftness, so that Part of the Brain where the Impression has been made. They augment and preserve it, as long as their Motion lasts, and the Cause that produced it; keeping by Consequence the Soul as it were in suspense, so that it cannot in that Interval apply itself to any Thing else.  
The same Effect is also wrought on a great many Men by those choice Expressions, fine Figures, pompous Descriptions, and bold Characters, which fill and adorn those eloquent Orations so much boasted of, and of which one may say what an Ancient Writer said on the same Subject, Plus sonant quam valent; because in effect, they impose upon us by the confused Noise they make. 'Tis impossible but the false glittering that reigns in those Discourses must fill the Imagination of those who red or hear them, by communicating a Motion to the Animal Spirits, proper to make an unexpected Impression in their Brain, and by this means surprise the Soul. Which continues affencted with the surprise till the Motion of the Animal Spirits being weakened, the Impression wears off, or is not so fresh; and then the Soul returns from its Surprise as it were from a Dream.  
By the Approbation which proceeds from the Impression made on the Senses by Things that seem Pleasant, and the sweet Commotion they cause in the Soul, the Animal Spirits delicately agitated equally spread themselves in the Brain, and the rest of the Body, and put into a Disposition proper to produce Sentiments that flatter and please the Soul, and which entice it towards those Objects that caused the Impression.  
The same Effect is made on the Minds of beau Monde, who are always more Sensible than Reasonable, by that vain subtlety of Thoughts, that we set out with the name of Delicacy, that Contexture of fine Ter●● that Exquisite Mixture of Figures, that Turn of Expression which seems Natural, but is not, that Measure of Phrases accompanied with a certain Tone of the Voice; which makes a kind of Harmony that tickles the Ear; in one word, all those false Flourishes we remark in the best received Writings, and which prepossess the World in favour of their Author. But when the Impression is once worn out, the Commotion of the Soul ceases, and that pretended Beauty of Discourse vanishes with the prepossessing Pleasure from whence it had its Original.  
Now this is the whole Compass of a wits Talent, let him writ in Verse or Prose, to dazzle by false Glittering, or Prepossess by Pleasure; without suffering the Light of the Mind or Reason to have any share in it. Those Writings are like certain Women, who please, tho' not handsome, by something unaccountably Agreeable, and which surprises, tho' we cannot tell wherein those Charms consist. 'Tis the same with Speeches full of uncommon Notions and lively Expressions, which please, but leave us in the Dark as to the Thing that makes us relish them.   

XII.  
I am not surprised, that a Wit should endeavour to gain himself a Reputation by his Poetry or rhetoric. As those two Things do almost wholly depend on the Imagination, he may promise himself success from his natural Talent. But that he should take upon him to be an Historian, and pretend to writ History, is an unpardonable Temerity, because nothing can be more contrary to his Character. I do not mean those Books that go under the Name of little Histories or Romances, the chief Design of which is to amuse and please with fine Expressions and Fictions, and therefore a Wit may here come off with Honour. But I mean Histories of States, or particular Men illustrious either by their Birth or Merit. And I wonder, chiefly for these two Reasons, at the Confidence of certain pretended Wits who undertake to writ such Histories. The first is, because they are ignorant of them; and the second, because they are obliged to disguise that little Insight they have in them.  
To make what we advanced plainer, 'tis necessary to make some Reflections on what we commonly understand by History, on the Manner of Studying it, and on the End we propose to ourselves by that Study.  
I think I may safely say, that most Men look upon History to be nothing else but a Relation of Facts, a Heap of Names, and a long Collection of Events; that all the Application it requires, consists in retaining the Names, bringing the Facts together, and charging the Memory with them, to have 'em ready upon all Occasions, so as to make ourselves acceptable in Company and distinguished in the World.  
In order to which we may observe, that people apply themselves to reading, and running over all the Historians one after another, both Ancient and Modern, Good and Bad. As for Order they follow none, but regulate themselves in that Point only as Occasion, and certain Circumstances of Time, require one History to be more present to them than another, and all this to flatter their Vanity to which they sacrifice every Thing. If we did not know the influence of human Pride, we could hardly believe that Men should judge so ill of History, and that they should make so mean an Use of it. Yet it is but too Evident, and the Error is no less General than Gross.   

XIII.  
History comprehends the Knowledge o● Times and Ages, the Alliances of Families the Revolutions of States, and Interest of Princes, their Characters, memorable Actions, and the Means and Methods they employed to execute them, as well as a Knowledge of the Actions of several other Men of Name and Reputation. And indeed the knowledge of those Things deserves our Application.  
But the end we ought to propose to ourselves herein should be Instruction and Knowledge, for we can propose nothing else to ourselves by our Studies, but to render ourselves Experienced and Virtuous▪ If we go upon other Designs, they are in every respect Vain and False, and we cannot excuse the Weakness of those that are guilty of them.  
If we make Knowledge and Virtue th● scope of our reading, History comprehend every thing necessary for so great an End 'Tis a large Field where we may reap a● infinite Number of excellent Lessons, lef● us by the Author, without designing any such thing, who in their Time wrote mor● for their own Honour than our ●nstructions; and nothing but our own ill management can deprive us of so happy and so plentiful a Harvest.  
The first false Step they who deprive themselves of this Advantage make, is when they suppose they have performed their Duty, by burdening they Memory with abundance of Chronology, in giving a punctual Account of Families, from the highest down to the lowest Branch; in filling their Minds with a Series of Occurrences, as difficult to be retained as they are ill digested. All this cannot but darken the Mind instead of enlightening it, and load us instead of instructing us.  
On the contrary, by the End every one ought to propose to himself in his Studies, 'tis easy to judge that nothing but a serious Attention, can give us that Profit we might otherwise expect from the study of History. This Study does not consist, in reading History simply to satisfy the Curiosity we have to know what was acted in former Ages; but rather to have an Occasion of comparing the Past with the Present, with relation to the Time to come. In this the great Advantage we receive from History consists, as well in relation to the Mind, as to the Heart. Which is thus.   

XIV.  
We know that to what Science soever we apply ourselves, a good Wit, good Instructions, and Industry are necessary Conditions to make us Proficients in it, and that good Masters are a great Help to us to remove the Difficulties we meet with. But, with all those Dispositions and helps, we cannot fully master it, till after a great Application and long Exercise. Let our Beginning be never so promising, our succeeding Care never so great, nothing but a consummate Experience can make a great Man.  
History, supplies the defect of Age and Experience in Men that make a good Use of it; I mean such as can judge of what is to come by what's past, and to regulate the present both by the one and the other; which is the most considerable Benefit of this Science. Those that neglect this Advantage, or are not capable of taking it, ●ad best lay aside this Study, how good soever their Memory may be to retain what they red.  
Our Mind is full of Difficulties and Clouds which darken it, and that Trouble the most acute Men meet with in great Enterprises, does but too much prove the Weakness of our Understanding. The Knowledge of History may help to dissipate those Clouds, not only by setting before our Eyes an infinite Variety of Events and particular Affairs, but by giving us an Occasion to penetrate into the most hidden Causes of Events by Reflections, and so enabling us to discover the secret Springs of Affairs; their Motives and Inducements, with the Contexture that serves to justify them. What signifies it for a Man to know what is past, if he be ignorant of the Reasons and Causes of it? he only satisfies his Curiosity, and keeps himself in Ignorance.  
What is past can neither serve the present nor what is to come, any otherwise than by the Coherencies we discover between what is already done, and what may be done. Those Coherencies are different. Some outward, such as show apparent resemblances between the Things we compare. Others inward, such as are inherent in the very Body of the Subject, of Causes and Circumstances, and these discover perfect Resemblances. For the Discovery therefore of these Coherencies we ought to search into the very Bottom, without stoping at the Surface. And nothing but this particular Discovery of the Ground and Bottom of Things, can supply the place of Experience, and make History, as to the Mind, supply the Defects of Age.   

XV.  
Since History is full of great and manifold Examples of Prudence, Generosity, and virtue, the Heart may improve itself as well as the Mind. Has any Thing so much Power over us as Example? Does it not persuade us a hundred times more than all the Eloquence of the Orators? If this has the Force to move us, Example which is more powerful, often hurries us away without giving us time to recollect ourselves.  
But, whereas good Examples are for the most part mixed with bad, and these make as great, if not a greater Impression on us than the others, therefore an exquisite judgement is required to avoid the second, and follow the first. Precipitation in this Case is dangerous, and would be apt to hurry us into Mistakes. 'Twould make us find in History fuel to inflame our Passions, instead of Means to moderate them.  
Nor must we be upon our Guard against bad Examples only, for in some Sense good ones may prove injurious. We may admire great Examples, without pretending to follow them; some we may both esteem and follow, but there are none we can in all respects imitate.  
Tho' we often discover what will be, or ought to be done, by what is already past, and may determine ourselves by the Example of others; yet there is something very singular in Facts, which alters the Species, and requires a prudent regard. Capacity is requisite in every Thing, but not every where the same. For which Reason one of the greatest Politicians of our Age did not require an entire and exact Knowledge of History in a States Man, but only a general Insight into it; because, said he, the Occasions and Circumstances not being the same at all times, he is more to be esteemed for the Penetration of his Mind, than for his Knowledge. He might have said more; for Accidents and Circumstances are sometimes the same, and yet the Events vary▪ So that, to avoid Mistakes, we must be very wary and circumspectly▪ and I defy the most happy Memory furnished with the finest Passages of History, to keep one from being misled.   

XVI:  
If this Science can make a good Politician, if it instructs one how to live like a Man of Honour, and to govern himself as a wise and Prudent Man; it must be granted, that this happens only when 'tis well understood by the Mind, and acquired by Reflections. Imagination and Memory are no more requisite to it than to fix our Thoughts on what we examine, or to bring into our Mind what has been formerly examined by us; which is done much easier by Reflection, than by bare Reading without it. For 'tis certain that Reflection is a mighty Help to make us Remember, and that judgement is a very great Assistant to Memory; tho' as I have formerly observed 'tis of little Help to the judgement, and may in one sense be an Hindrance to it.  
'Twould be over-straining the Point, to say on this Hypothesis, that a happy Memory is no good Quality for the solid learning of History. But that it is not the best, nor the most necessary, and that it is not the Quality we ought to make most Use of to arrive at the perfect Knowledge of History, is a Truth not to be denied.  
The Knowledge of the World is also one of the most considerable Advantages we can reap from History; but it is because that Science has its Principle in the Knowledge of Man, and that History gives us perfectly that Knowledge. I mean a Moral Knowledge, rather than Metaphysical, about which the Philosophers raise endless Disputes.  
The World is a Multitude composed of People, made almost like Machines resembling each other, but with very different Motions and Actions. A Man cannot know the World without knowing those People, together with the different Motives that make them Act; and, as the Whole is scarce to be known without a particular Knowledge of its Parts, so we can have no perfect Knowledge of the World, without a previous Knowledge of the Men who compose it.  
History affords us true Paintings of Men's Hearts, such as represent it to the Life, that show us what 'tis, and what 'tis capable of. It lays open the Passions of Man, and draws 'em more lively than those learned Works that Authors have written.  
It teaches us to know what Imagination supported by Passion can do, and what the Motions of this are, when actuated by the other. We also know by it what Reason can, or cannot do, together with its Strength and Weakness. The Man and the Hero appear there, and we discover the secret Springs which make them act, in spite of the vain Disguise made use of to hid them. The Life of Man is too short to make al● these Discoveries in those we see and converse with during our Abode here; we must, as it were lengthen, and stretch it out, by joining to it those Men's Lives who are gone before us, and make them serve instead of Old Age to us, which only can defend us from the Ignorance and surprises of Youth. History lays before us all those Lives, not so much to content our Curiosity, as to fill our Hearts with excellent Maxims of politics and Morals, to regulate thereby our Conduct.  
Conversation alone makes not an excellent Man; the use of Books alone, much less. To acquire that Quality, we must know how to mix those two Things with Discretion, observe what passes in the World, and reflect upon what has been done. To History we must join our own experience, I mean a true, faithful and exact History, such as is the Work of some faithful knowing Historian; not a disguised and fabulous History which has received as many Alterations, as it has employed Pens, and comes from a suspected and prejudiced Author.   

XVII.  
As for the Order and Method commonly observed in this difficult Study, it seems to me very different from what ought to be followed; Men being for the most part guided in it by their Capricio and Fancy. Some are for reading History over and over, it being a Thing as it were impossible but that the Mind must retain something out of so much Variety. Others would have us red all sorts of Books indifferently, at least to accustom ourselves to Books and Reading, but wherein lies the Excellency, to red much, and make no Advantage by it? Ignorance is doubtless preferable to such Learning that is more proper to corrupt the Heart than to instruct the Mind.  
Tho' we cursorily run over all the Historians, and red all their Books; tho' by a wonderful and amazing Strength of Memory we can remember all we red, yet we may still be very far from understaning History, as knowing as we may seem to appear in it to the Eyes of the Vulgar, who are always ignorant and easy to be surprised.  
Whatever Advantage one may reap from this Science, how great soever his Genius may be, he will not be much the wiser for it, unless he makes some Difference between Knowing or remembering after he has red, and Understanding or Judging after he has examined.  
A Man of Wit, with all his Genius, his lively, strong, and capacious Imagination, and his happy Memory, is therefore far from understanding History, because he is endowed but with the least part of those necessary Dispositions for that Study, and is incapable of the Principal ones.  
What I have said of History, of the Manner of learning it, and of the End Men should propose to themselves in that Study, being compared with what our Men of Wit think of it, the Method they use to understand it, and the End they propose to themselves by it, does visibly make it appear how incapacitated they are to writ History▪ and how rash to undertake a Work they know so little of, and are not in a Condition to understand.  
A great Capacity of Mind, a strong Penetration to discover the Truth of Things, and a competent Sincerity to speak it, are Qualities absolutely necessary for a good Historian. How many do we find thus qualified? Most of them want Capacity, for want of Reflecting; a great many Sincerity, because they want Liberty. Slaves to their Reputation, I ●ill not say to their Interest, and seduced by their Wit, they take less Care to writ the Truth, than to Flatter and writ finely. They are lead by common Opinion, and guided by a false Politeness.  
On this Subject I shall remark a particular Fault of our Man of Wit, viz. that he seldom writes but at other Mens Cost and Labour. He has the Conscience to appropriate to himself what does not belong to him, and the Secret to make it pass for his own. As great a Transcriber as he is, he gives his Works the Air of Originals, by which he imposes on Mankind. He changes, turns, and disguises, and so alters the Matter, that he scarce leaves any Title to the Proprietor, by which he may defend his Right. But, should we take it to pieces, and( according to the Law of Nature) restore to every one what belonged unto him, what would there remain in this Plagiary? a new Turn of Expression, a few Choice Words, another Style and way of Expression. This is all we can allow him, and in Effect 'tis all that belongs to him, as appears by those numerous Volumes of straggling Histories, which some certain Wits expose every day to the World, and which owe the Success they have for a Time, merely to the Charms of Novelty.   

XVIII.  
If amongst our Wits some value themselves for Poetry, some for Oratory, others for History, there are some who vainly pretend to all three; and tho' they will not give themselves the Trouble to writ, yet gain Esteem by a Sort of Learning, which according to them consists in knowing the Poets, and understanding other Authors, but most of all the Ancient and Modern Historians. It will not be improper therefore to make some few Reflections on the use some of our Wits make of this Science, and for which they value themselves under the specious Name of fine Learning. The Knowledge of the Belles Lettres is, of all Sciences the most generally pursued, and cultivated by all sorts of People that pretend the least to Learning. 'Tis what is first taught our Youth, whatever employment they are designed for; and if some afterwards slight it as an Amusement proper only for Youth, others find such Delight in it, as to make it the serious Occupation of their whole Lives.  
The Mathematickt, Philosophy, physic, Law, and Divinity, divide Learned Men between them: But all of them agree in their Pretensions to the Belles Lettres. Every Man sets up for it, none undervalue it, and if any one has made but a little progress in it, 'tis rather imputed to the Defect of his Memory, than his Remissness to instruct himself in it.  
From all this a Man would be apt to infer, that this Science must needs be of a wonderful Advantage, and that we have some great Designs on foot, when we make it our sole employment. But if we consider the Method used to attain it, we may well be surprised, that we can't discover what End Men propose to themselves by this Study, and we shall have Reason to believe that most of them take it up without any End at all.  
We put into the hands of Children, Poets and other Authors, to explain and learn by Heart. We force them to this Study by Punishments, or entice them by Rewards. They apply themselves to it for a considerable Time; then rest there, without considering what their Study ought to tend to, nor of what Use it may be to them hereafter. If we ask the School-masters, who ought to give us satisfaction in this point, what their Design is in their employment, they tell us, sometimes, 'tis only to exercise the Memory of Youth, sometimes to accustom them betimes to love Books and Reading, and in short, to give them an universal and general Knowledge of Things.  
These are very general, and indeed very Childish Ends; and I do not admire, that they who know no other, should think this pretended Science only fit for a College, and the employment of schoolboys.  
Those who take a Pride to study it, after another manner, and to make it of greater Use; who pretend by the Help of it to be reckoned among the Learned, and gain a Reputation among the Wits of the World, find out more noble Advantages by it. Of which this is not the least, that by this Learning they acquire a Politeness of Mind not to be had any other Way, how great soever their Natural Parts may be.  
These Men doubtless are in the right. Learning polishes and instructs the Mind, gives a relish to good Things, and inspires a delicacy of Fancy. 'Tis chiefly by those Inducements that this Science is of such an Universal Use, and that this same Study, which seems most to savour of School-learning is that which distinguishes us the most from a Pedant.  
I do therefore agree as to the End, but I cannot approve of the usual Means made use of to arrive at it. Whilst Men will content themselves with reading carelessly the Poets and all other Authors without judgement and Choice, only to know what Subjects they have treated of, in what T●●e they wrote, and the Names of those Persons they discoursed of; whilst they shall think they have done enough if they have faithfully retained a few apothegms which they don't understand, or some Verses, or some whole Pages of a Book ill digested; and that they will value themselves, for reciting with assurance what they never learned but confusedly; As it is no more than the Effect of a happy Memory, so the pretended Advantage of so trivial a Knowledge will be but a ridiculous Vanity, an Accomplishment more becoming a Pedant than a Gentleman.  
But if on the contrary, according to the Example of those ingenious Grecians whose Learning and Politeness has rendered their Nation Famous, Men would make use of this Science but to polish what may be rough and course in their Nature, to inspire more delicate Thoughts, and give the Mind a more noble and excellent Impression; As that will be the Effect of well digested Learning, so the Fruit of this Science will be much more exquisite, and the Science itself more esteemed.   

XIX.  
In this we ought to agree with all Men of I●dgment, that the Knowledge of human Learning is proper to Ingenious Men▪ but we must also confess, that it is sometimes the Occupation of Blockheads, by the ill use which may be made of it.  
To store up in ones Memory a confused Heap of Passages of Authors, and Sentences of Poets; to repeat very often in Conversation a Latin Verse of one of the ancient Poets when we have just heard one of the Company say the same thing very naturally in English; to busy ourselves in what place we found the Sentence we quoted, and of which we have forgot the Author, rather than consider if it be to the purpose, is the blind side of this Science, and we cannot but very much despise it, if looked upon with this Disadvantage. But to red with reflection, to distinguish the true from the false, the good from the ill, to penetrate with judgement into the real Sense of an Author, to accustom ones self insensibly to the Delicacy that a Poet inspires, to relish the real Charms and reject the false, and never to talk in Company but to the purpose and with Discretion; to forget sometimes the fine Expressions we admire in an Author, and stick only to his Truths, and so get an Habit of Politeness and Ingenuity; In a word, to be less careful of loading our Memory, than forming our Mind, is the right Use of Learning, and that which makes the whole value of it.  
I do not fear to say it, we see very. Few who turn it to this good Use. A Wit particularly shows he never knew the Importance of it, who applies himself to it only to fill his Imagination, exercise his Memory, and so pass for a Nice and Ingenious Man, without being either. What may be he never understood is, that there is a false Delicacy to be avoided, and a vain Politeness to be feared. 'Tis necessary to give to the Mind those Ornaments and Graces which are not natural to it, to which Learning contributes more than any Thing else. But we ought to take care, that by endeavouring to polish it, we do not weaken it, and that too much Delicacy do's not render it Little or Effeminate. 'Tis with the Mind as with any fine Pieces of Workmanship; which become weak and brittle b● being too nicely wrought. The last stroke of the Carver's Chisel very often spoils a● his Work, and Experience convinces us, that many Men have corrupted their Judgments and Fancy by too much refining them.   

XX.  
'Tis common enough with those who value themselves for their Learning, to be more touched with a fine Impression than with the Thing expressed, tho' perhaps more Admirable than the Expression itself. The Reason is, that, if they have Sense enough to be charmed with the Expression, they have not judgement enough to penetrate into the Goodness of the Thing expressed. Their Fancy is too delicate, and too much polished to be Solid; they have taken away its Force, under pretence of rendering it more Polite. Thus nothing seems fine to them but what agreeably moves and delights, and they take notice of nothing but what shines and surprises, not considering that the Ornaments Men make use of to embellish their Discourse, let them be of what nature they will, should be regarded only, but as so many Charms which draw us to a stricter and nearer Consideration of those Things, either to know them, or make them useful. 'Tis the Road that leads us to it, but 'tis a mighty Weakness to stop there.  
I am not of the Opinion of those morose and severe critics, who condemn every Thing that has but the Air of politeness and neatness of Fancy; who forbid us to alter any thing from that rough and deformed State wherein Nature left it. A State they admire the more, as best agreeing with the grossness and coarsness of their Minds; as if the Works of Nature were so accomplished, that Art must lye still, and have nothing to do. When Beauty itself, in order to gain admiration, is found to borrow Ornaments, which raise and set out its Charms. And so the Mind ought to turn its Thoughts in such a Manner as may raise and make them better relished and esteemed. Without this help, 'twould be like Gold mixed with the Earth, which keeps it from our Sight, and entirely hides its Lustre.  
Having said in another Place, that Imagination makes the fineness and delicacy of the Mind, 'twould be giving myself the lie to disapprove the good Use one may make of it, and to reject all sort of Politeness, either in Speaking or Writing, since it would be to retrench the Effects, when we have admitted the Cause. The Imagination, like a skilful Workwoman, who chooses the best Methods to put her Design in hand, makes use of Books, as necessary Instruments to give a fineness and politeness to the Mind, which is to be attained no other Way.  
But I have already said it, and I say it again, that, if the Mind wants Penetration and judgement, if Reason is not advised with in all Things, if it does not always march at the head, if Imagination gets the start, or does not consult it, all Delicacy is vain, the Charms fallacious, and can only please the Vulgar, and Men of no Penetration.  
A Man of Wit, who sets forth those Charms with so much Confidence in all Companies whatsoever, may sometimes surprise by a false Politeness, which makes him skilfully disguise his own Weakness to himself, and hid it from others; but we perceive it at last through all its Diguises; and the Remark I have often made, that the Man of Wit is not a Wit at all times, nor before all sorts of Persons, is enough of itself to raise the Doubt, or take off the Mask. The Mode of it changes, as that of clothes in France. Our ancient Authors do not seem less Fantastical to us by some Pieces of Wit they have left us, than by the Habits they wore. Their Puns, Equivocations, Sentences, and certain merry Tales which were the choicest Productions of their Wit, for the most part, are as much out of Fashion, as their Ruffs and round Breeches. So will the Wit of our Time be changed as that of former Ages was for this; and future Ages perhaps will be surprised, how 'twas possible for us to be pleased with it.  
How can a Man of Wit assure himself of a more happy Destiny, when he can scarce promise himself a better at present? If liked here, he is disliked elsewhere; if applauded to day, 'twill be owned a mistake to morrow. As his whole Study is to please the Fancy, so Men judge of it only by Caprice. He is but slighted or extolled, as the Blood is more coagulated, or rarefied, more heated, or chilled: Men are the same in respect of Wit, as of Colours. As the liveliest Colours please them at one time, the dullest at another; so they are sometimes for the lofty and sublime, and sometimes for the plain and natural. As for what comes from a Man of judgement, I find the World is not so changeable, being as it were forced to esteem him, in any State or Condition, tho' somewhat coldly. An Argument that the Imagination is not very well satisfied with the honour we pay to Reason.   

XXI.  
I make, you see, a great difference between Reason, and Fancy. All the World talks of this, and would have it in Perfection, and no Man explains what it is. For ought I know, it may be one of those Things we should make mor● obscure by attempting to define it. If I may tell my Thoughts of it, it seems to me a confused, but natural Sentiment of the Soul, which moves independantly from its other Lights. This Sentiment is caused by the Conformity there is, between the Imagination or the Senses, and the Objects offered unto them; because the Impression the Objects make on the Bodies is naturally followed by Sentiments of the Soul, agreeable or disagreeable, according to the Conformity between the Soul and those Objects.  
But whatever is meant by Fancy, this we must agree in, that it cannot be good and right, any farther than it is conformable to Reason, and follows it close; nor can a Man be said to have a good Fancy, but when he loves nothing but what is True, Natural▪ and Just. Whatever is False or confused, without either Clearness or Reason, is nought, and ought to be so esteemed, if our Fancy be not depraved. But 'tis very seldom that Fancy which springs from the Dispositions of the Body subject to so many alterations, agrees with Reason which is always uniform; I mean, that confused Sentiments and a clear Understanding should hold together. Nor is it a matter of Wonder that what proceeds from Fancy, having a dependency on the Body, should be liable to so great alterations, nothing but Reason being Immutable of itself  
In Effect, good Sense which makes us discourse like reasonable Men, is the same that made the Ancients speak rationally also. Humour, Fancy, and Fashions may change; but Reason is the same in all Ages, and knows no Vicissitude.  
We must therefore of necessity relish the ancient Authors, where they writ good Sense; we need not fear being disapproved by those who shall come after us, if we writ after the same manner.  
Every Thing that comes from a Man of Wit is much more pleasing, because it moves Men more lively, but it does not please long. A Man of judgement pleases not so much, because he does not touch so sensibly, but then he always pleases.    

PART III. Of WIT in the Affairs of the World.  

I.  
THE Ancient Philosophers who left certain Methods, how we ought to regulate our Conduct and Manners for the whole Course of our Lives, have considered Men relatively to their different Stations; either in themselves, and as private Persons; or in a Family, as making part of it; or in the State, as Members thereof. They have considered 'em, either as living privately, or raised to some Dignity; either studying their own proper Interest, and managing their particular Affairs, or engaged in the public, and entrusted with Affairs of State. For indeed these two Occupations employ the greatest part of Mankind. Of which two sorts of employment, a Wit in my Opinion is very little capable, no more than of those Instructions that might be given him upon that Subject.  
For the most part those who have the Reputation of Wits in the World, want two Qualities which are absolutely necessary to make a complete and able Man; viz. Force and Liberty of Mind. They want Force, since too constant application to Business tires them, and it is not in their Power to bestow a serious Attention on what they are about; either the sprightliness and fire of their Minds does transport them beyond the Bounds of Attention, or a false notion of Delicacy makes them neglect it. They also want Liberty of Mind, or at least are almost incapable of using it; for being Hasty and Impatient, they judge without examining, and decide without making reflections. accustomend to pass over every Thing lightly and without penetration, their Tongues run before their Wit, and are easily prepossessed, because they will not allow themselves time to consider. So that they have two Qualities diam●trically opposite to Ability in Affairs, that is, want of Application and Rashness, or Prejudice.   

II.  
The natural Disposition of a Stupid Man tho' very contrary to that of a Wit, renders a Man every jot as uncapable for the management of Affairs. If the Thoughts of the one are too dissipated, the other is too slow. One spoils all by too much Action, the other by too little; and both the one and the other want Perseverance.  
The Stupid( I mean one in the most common Signification, there being several sorts of them as well as of Wits) is always timorous and cautious, dares neither undertake nor do any Thing; not unlike Men that travail an unfrequented Road, who are apprehensive of every Thing, because they see nothing that can remove their Fears. He prefers Ease to Business, and is incapable of any Employment, by Reason of two Defects which are natural to him, viz. Inactivity and Distrust.  
Yet all Things have their different Aspect, and nothing is so exactly uniform, but shows different Sides. We must therefore apply ourselves to know them thoroughly, before we pretend to judge of them. Which a Wit, and one that is Stupid, either don't do at all, or else do it ill. It seems therefore to be the peculiar Talent of a Man of judgement, who alone keeps a just Medium between these two extremes, worthily to acquit himself in this Affair. On the one hand Penetration improves his Strength of Reason, and on the other Moderation preserves to him its Liberty. Thus both reserved and vigilant, he undertakes without Temerity, and goes on with Assurance. He turns Things on every Side, beholds them in every Part, and so carries along with him two essential Dispositions for the Management of Affairs, viz. Application and judgement. One is the Effect of the Strength, the other of the Liberty of his Mind; which are as it were the general Perfections, from whence all the other spring, and wherein his true Merit wholly consists.  
But this Character is so opposite to that 〈◇〉 a Wit, that we never find them re-united in one and the same Person. To talk indifferently and superficially of all Things, is very different from diving into the bottom of them. To show Subtlety and Cunning in Consultations, is not dwelling and resolving Affairs. The Gift of discoursing agreeably is quiter a different Talent from that of making judicious Reflections. The Natural Dispositions of the one make him uncapable of those Things which fit and prepare him for others. To make a Man of sprightly Wit, the Humours must be brisk and in Motion, and the Animal Spirits full of Fire and Heat. Whereas a could Blood with a greater Portion of Phlegm, and a well regulated Course of Animal Spirits, are proper for Men of good Sense: Whose Character it is to be quick-sighted in their Deliberations, constant in their Resolutions, unshaken in their Enterprizes, well informed what Party they are to take upon all Occasions, and consequently more cautious in their Choice.  
The others Character on the contrary, is to be short sighted in their Views, prepossessed by their Designs, as Rash to resolve, as Weak to execute. How vast is the Difference! One is brisk and lively, and the other thoughtful and judicious; One has a sharp agreeable Wit, the other good and solid. Which doubtless gave Occasion to a great Politician of our Times to say of these two sorts of Wit, that one was made for Pleasure, and the other for Business.   

III.  
To what purpose should we use Arguments, to prove the Truth of these Differences which Experience itself makes so evident? 'Tis but casting our Eyes upon the daily Passages in the Commerce of the World. How many Men are there that cannot tolerably acquit themselves in Conversation, who very cunningly wind themselves out of a Business? As dull and insipid as they are in Company, you will find them both sharp and successful in their Enterprizes. These Men neither delight, nor render themselves agreeable; but make a sound judgement of Things, and become often useful and necessary. quiter contrary to flashy vain Wits, who are admired in Conversation; but are the worst of Men in Business; all Fire and Life to undertake, but have little Conduct to succeed.  
Let us not stop here, but inquire farther into the Matter. Do we owe the wise Management of public Affairs to our Men of Wit? Is it a quick Imagination, or good Sense and judgement that supports the Weight of them? 'Tis neither a vain Subtlety nor a pretended Delicacy, but a sound Capacity and Solidity of Mind, which makes us value those Illustrious Men that govern States and Kingdoms. With Submission to our Wits be it said, 'tis not their Destiny to be placed so high.   

IV.  
There are whole Nations born with excellent Dispositions, that are as proper for the Government of a State, as necessary for the Ease of Men in a private Capacity. In those Nations if Men be could and slow, they are but the more clear sighted, and the wiser for it. One would think Nature had studied to cast them in a thicker Mould, and by the Solidity of their Judgments to make them amends for the Politeness she has denied them. If their Thoughts are not fine and lively, yet they argue wisely and judiciously, they don't affect to make an Ostentation of their Parts, so much as to be silent when 'tis proper, and reflect on what is before them. They keep an equal steady place, most commonly regular in their Actions, reserved in their Motions, and stricty united for the public Good which is in reality their own. Thus a prudent Simplicity raises them to true Greatness.  
On these solid Foundations stands the whole Body they form, whose Members are united with so much Proportion, governed with so much Justness, kept up with so much Order and Precaution, that they are scarce ever liable to those fatal Distempers which at last destroy the most healthy Kingdoms. The Genius of the Nation in general animates this Body, and makes all its Actions constant, regular, and uniform. This Genius presides in their Counsels, supports the Weight of their Affairs, and resolutely carries on their Enterprizes to the very last.  
But it must be allowed, that if Nature has been so favourable to those Nations, she has not been entirely unkind to others; and what she has not bountifully bestowed in General, she has however granted to some in Particular. Some Defects we are born with, proper as it were to the Country and Climate we live in, and there are others, which we contract. In the same manner, there are both Natural and acquired Qualities. And as, absolutely speaking, Men have very few good Qualities which they may not sometimes lose; so they have very few bad ones but they may at one time or other correct.  
Good Education, Civil Society, the Conversation of the World, the Necessity of Affairs, Ripeness of Years, and above all the Use of Reason in that Age, may make great Alterations in the Mind, in any Place, or country. For indeed, Reason is common to all States, and Nations, and if there be Climates, or happy Temperaments better disposed to follow it than others, there are none so very Unfortunate, but with due care may surmount those Obstacles.  
If some Men will not allow this, but will affirm that there are Invincible Obstacles, I will prevent their Objection by owning these two before hand, viz. Stupidity and Wit. 'Tis not without Reason that Stupidity may seem Invincible in some Tempers, a Stupid Man being so very slow and dull of Conception that he is incapable of all Instructions, and his Heaviness such, that it cannot be raised by any Counter balance.  
But if we could as easily see, without any other reflection, what the Defects of a Wit are, I am well assured we should find him equally incurable. If there be no Way to conquer the Heaviness of a Stupid Man, what Means can be used to fix the Levity of a Wit? Education, such as is commonly bestowed; serves only to countenance it. Pride, the natural Source of this Defect, does always side with Imagination against Reason, which is too weak, and too much suspected to be regarded. The advantage of good Sense is neither perceived nor acknowledged. A Man of Wit is prepossessed by his Talents and pretended good Parts, what then can we expect from him, if he be still Stubborn and Intractable? And how can he be otherwise? Nay, I will make it appear, that this Defect is so much the more peculiar to a Wit, as it is the effect of Presumption, which is so natural to him.   

V.  
'Tis a received Maxim among Politicians, th● Strength without Counsel destroys itself, and that readiness to follow other Mens Advice, is a Quality no less commendable, than Ability in giving good Counsel. And indeed where is the Genius, how sagacious soever he be, who so orders his Steps in the Affairs he manages; as not to run often the hazard of mistaking himself, for want of asking the right Way, or taking a good Guide?  
If any Man runs this hazard, 'tis chiefly your Witty Persons. For I see no Men less capable of giving good Advice, and none less disposed to take it. A famous Politician furnishes me with a Reason for it; He that is not Wise of himself, says he, cannot be well advised; because he will neither regard, nor obey, and cannot follow the Precepts whi●● are given him; which is exactly the Case of a Wit.  
The great Opinion he has of his own pretended judgement and Knowledge, makes him scorn and despise the Sentiments of others, and interpret it a Weakness to submit to them. He that takes Advice depends in some measure on him that gives it; but a Wit, who is animated and puffed up by Pride, affects an Independency in all things. He looks on the Counsel which is given him, to be a kind of Tyranny exercised over the Liberty of his Thoughts; and fears nothing so much as to be suspected of suffering himself to be guided by others.  
With all his Presumption, and that all-sufficient Air he assumes, he is as forward to reprove others, as unfit to be reproved. He talks with Confidence, decides with Authority, promises good Success, and threatens bad, but will not allow Reason to examine the Causes. Thus taking upon him indiscreetly to force other Mens Minds, all his Designs at last prove ineffectual.  
Men love to do all things to their own Mind and Fancy. Therefore 'tis a great Art to know how to give them good Advice, and make 'em relish it, which few Men are capable of. If we seriously reflect upon it, the Number of those who do not err, is gr●●ter than of those who know how to correct those that err.   

VI.  
Amongst the other Imbecillities of a Wit, one of the most considerable is, his Presumption of doing all Things by Force. A quick and confused Sentiment, which hot boiling Blood, and sharp and agitated Animal Spirits inspire, make ●im foolishly presume that nothing escapes his Understanding. If he finds himself at a stand, he fancies, 'tis because none can go further; if he mistakes, 'tis because any Man else would have mistaken as well as himself; and taking the Strength and Extent of Imagination, for the Strength and Extent of the Mind, he allows all to Opinion, which seduces and leads him astray. That's the Rock against which he splits, Opinion is the Rock of your Men of Wit.  
'Tis that false Light which is the Cause of all their Errors in Sciences, and of their bad Conduct in Affairs. From thence come so many unusual and extraordinary Counsels, ill contrived Enterprises, false Steps, vain Projects, and in the conclusion of all ill Success. For 'tis an Error to suppose that with little Penetration we can undertake many and great Things, and follow therein our Opinions, with lit●●● or no Insight. Neither should we imagine, that this Penetration and Insight is so natural to the Mind, that we need only let it act to compass our Aim. The Mind in one Sense grows weak and feeble, as well as the Body; both stand in need of Nourishment, and to be provided, either wherewith to support their Strength, or to acquire new when in want of it. Our Mind does extend or contract, as we extend or contract it. And, as nothing gives it a greater Extent, than the good use we make of its Liberty and judgement; so there is nothing that confines us more, than Infatuation, Rashness, and Prejudice. This naturally leads us to Inapplication, and Inapplication feeds our Prejudice. Both concur and assist each other, to spoil and corrupt the Mind. Inapplication makes us judge superficially of all Things, and decide as carelessly. Opinion is the occasion we never apply ourselves to any Thing, for it seems to spare us that Trouble. We are not therefore to wonder, that the least attentive, and most infatuated Minds, are always the weakest.   

VII.  
If Opinion be so dangerous a Distemper, ought we not then to have a due esteem for the Li●erty of the Mind, which is a Cure for it? And what can we think of such as are deprived of it? If a Wit wants strength of Reason, because his Thoughts are diffused, he has the more Occasion for Liberty and judgement, because he is too apt to fall into Precipitation.  
This Defect, which is one of the most considerable, in relation to Affairs, does not only derive its Origin from the evil Qualities of the Mind, but also from the corrupt Dispositions of the Heart. So that if we should allow a Wit to have some Penetration and judgement( which he often wants only for want of Attention) that would not be sufficient; for the Heart often spoils what the Mind judiciously designs.  
There arise sometimes from the Heart, certain Passions which like a thick Vapour darken the clearest and purest Understandings; and we find certain Motions there, which strongly oppose the most regular proceedings of the Mind. Which makes it easy to conceive, that as the Mind, lead by the false Lights of an irregular Imagination, often makes us err and go astray; so the Heart, kerbed and domineered by a foolish Passion, do's no less contribute to led us out of the right Way.  
The Mind has its Falsities and Illusions, and the Heart its Passions and I●becillities; and, as they are our two Guides in all our Actions, it follows that a good and uncorrupted Heart is of as great a Consequence and as necessary for us, as a sound and undisturbed Mind.  
I shall not here insist upon what is so evident to all the World. The horrble Disorders the Corruption of Mens Hearts, and the Exorbitancy of their Passions, occasion in Governments, are too well known to be denied. I shall only remark what is to my Subject, viz. what Genius's are, by their proper Character, more or less free from those Irregularities.   

VIII.  
There is so great a Conformity between the Disposition of the Mind, and that of the Heart, that for the most part they seem to me to follow each other. A false Mind is commonly attended with a vicious Heart. If that yields to Imagination, Passion soon gets the Victory over this; and they never fail to communicate reciprocally to each other their good or evil Impressions. From whence I conclude, that the quicker the Imagination is, the stronger the Passions are, and Reason the weaker; and that on the contrary the Passions are never so calm and the Mi●● so free, as when the Imagination is most subject to it, and in a good Temper.  
This being once granted, what sort of Men must we allow to enjoy the greatest Liberty of Mind; either those who by their natural Vanity abandon themselves to the flights of their Imagination, and so are Slaves to their Passions; or those that by their Moderation suppress the Impetuosity of 'em by keeping their Imagination under? Which of the two are most likely to be mistaken in their judgement upon such public or private Concerns as they are entrusted with? All the World agrees, that the effects of Passions and Imagination are always Enemies to Reason and good Sense. We must therefore allow that our gay sparkling Wits, whose Passions are undoubtedly more animated than the others, are less capable of the wise management of Affairs, which is the effect of Prudence and good Sense only.  
The Passions, as another very judicious Author▪ has remarked, are not only excited by the Objects, but likewise by the Opinions we are prepossessed with. The truth is, what we call our Blessings, or our Afflictions, is for the most part only such as we imagine it; which is the Reason why a Man thinks himself very un●appy, with that which would make the Happiness of another. 'Tis Imagination for the most part which gives a form to Things, that diminishes, or augments, that lessons, or sets a value on them; and the most frequent Motions of the Passions are only the consequences of a sensible Application of the Soul to those Impressions and Figures which are made in the Brain. Those Men therefore who have their Brain fullest of these Images, must be most taken up with them; and by a necessary consequence most moved and concerned. Their Passion is their Reason, and Imagination their Guide. So that their Minds are surrounded with Clouds and Darkness, which deprive them of the Liberty of their Judgments.   

IX.  
We must needs have a better Opinion of another sort of Men, whom a less nice and delicate Constitution of the Brain, and animal Spirits less quick and less in motion, make colder and more reserved. As their Imagination is less heated, consequently their Hearts ought to be less agitated, and their Minds freer.  
The Violence of the Passions is every where felt▪ but they do not domineer in all Persons with the same Power. A nice flashy Wit may be carried away by the Strength of Passion, against which one of a reserved solid judgement would make an easy Resistance: Who not being so sensibly touched by the Impression of the Objects, and less subject to the Surprises of Imagination,( two infallible Causes of the Emotion of the Soul) must needs both enjoy a greater tranquillity and be capable of better reasoning.  
I speak of Passions, as I have done of Imagination, and blame the Excess only. We should regulate but not destroy them; for a Man without Passions is a mere Chimera. Imagination has its Use, and Graces; the Passions in the same manner have their Use and Advantages. But like the best Things, they become dangerous by the ill application we make of them. They trouble, transport, and corrupt the Heart; they blind, disorder, and debauch the Mind a thousand ways; but 'tis only because we give 'em too much scope; for a Man who is not entirely Master of himself, suffers them to pass those Bounds which Nature has prescribed to them.  
The Passions ought not to govern, and give Laws to Man( 'tis that which makes 'em odious) but they ought to receive their Orders from Reason, and execute them, which often makes them necessary.  
There is as much Action and Motion required for the Execution of an Enterprise, as Leisure and Prudence for the Deliberation. The Heart and the Mind share equally in the Glory of our noblest Actions. The Mind begins and conceives them, by its Understanding; the Heart prosecutes and finishes them, by its Motion. The Mind has the Credit of the Design, and the Heart that of the Success.  
Success, says Seneca, is not under the Jurisdiction of the Wise. We undertake and Fortune gives Success. But Fortune loves Action and Motion; and this we pl●●ly see in Young People, whom it favours more than others, by reason of their Briskness and Vivacity, and because they have more Confidence than Wisdom. 'Tis therefore in some measure necessary that the Heart, and Passions should be concerned; for we can do very little without them, how excellent soever our Genius is, and sometimes all we do proceeds from them. Which perhaps made a great Politian say, that one had better be Impetuous, than circumspectly. But he tells us withal, that it is not always the surest Way; for, says he, Fortune is inconstant, and often abandons the Man whom she seems most to favour, tho' never so bold and active. The Reason he gives for it is excellent; Fortune changes according to the Times, but the Man does not alter his Measures. We must therefore keep a just Medium, join the wise proceedings of the Mind with the motions of the Soul, and follow his Opinion, who to succeed in his Undertakings, neither required Merit, nor extraordinary Fortune, but only a happy Dexterity.   

X.  
I applaud the Passions in those they only agitate, but I blame them in those they disorder. And because they may be more or less moderated, according t●●he Dispositions of those they animate, we need not fear to own, that certain could and reserved Men( I mean could without being weak, reserved without being heavy) may make a good Use of them, moderate their Violence, withstand their Efforts, and so preserve their Liberty and judgement, which are the chief ingredients to qualify a Man for the management of Affairs.  
'Tis the Unhappiness of Mankind, says a certain politician, that it is hard to avoid one Inconvenience without falling into another. From whence he concludes, that Prudence requires we should know the nature of Inconveniencies, and always choose the least. But how can we know them, if the Mind is not enough at liberty to discover them?  
I cannot set off the excellency of this admirable Quality, I mean the Liberty of the Mind, any way so well as by remarking that all Kingdoms have their particular Laws, all Arts their Rules, and all Sciences their Principles, to which all that depend on them is brought together as to its Center. But politics is the only Science that has nothing constant in its Maxims, nothing uniform in its Rules, nor well grounded in its Principles. As it wholly depends on the difference of Times and Conjunctures, it contradicts itself in its Principles, as often as the face of Affairs changes. So that its best Foundation is the Prudence and Ability of those that cultivate it; who governing themselves not so much by its Maxims, as by the change of Times, and present circumstances of Things, make use of Rules suitable to Affairs, rather than manage Affairs according to Rule.  
Experience authorizes this Conduct, and we often find that two Persons have the same Success with different Methods, and two others use the same Method for the very same Thing with a quiter contrary Success. Of two that go the same Way, and steer the same Course, one shall come home safe, and the other not; which happens from the diversity of Times, and Conjunctures. Therefore a wise and discreet Man suits his Conduct to Times and Affairs; according to the Saying of Tacitus, Morem accommodari, prout conducat.  
'Tis observable, that no Writings are more exposed to Censure, than those of politicians, because none so ill grounded. But the Man that will the most severely censure 'em, must expect to meet with other critics who will condemn his Censure, so arbitrary are their Decisions. And tho' with regard only to the Principles of politicians, we should own more Solidity in them than others, yet if afterwards we descend from generals to particulars, the numerous Difficulties of the practical Part will but too well prove the Insufficiency of their Rules. Nothing but a solid extensive judgement can conquer these Difficulties; As for Wit and Delicacy of Fancy, they signify little or nothing.  
What I say of politics in general, which concerns Kingdoms and republics, is to be applied to politics in particular, which concerns all Mankind; for every Man has one of his own making, as well as his Interest. If we do but observe it, we shall always find more than one way to compass our Ends, nor is there any general Rule for choosing which we ought to take. Reason alone, if we will consult it, can put us into the best Method.   

XI.  
Should I attempt here to descend into the particulars of all Mens Actions, and more especially the Proceedings of our Wits, to show the Vanity of their Designs, and Irregularity of their Conduct in their Management of Affairs, I should soon confounded myself with such abundance of Matter as would carry me farther than I purpose to go. I shall therefore content myself, before I make an end, to observe but one of those Ways our Men of Wit for the most part take to raise themselves in the World, which is to get themselves as near as they can to great Men and Princes.  
I know that all the World sacrifices to Fortune, and that every one endeavours to make himself Happy. And as some place their Happiness in one Thing, others in another, according to the different Turn their Imagination gives to the Ideas they have of the Objects of their Passion, so it happens that Men take as many different Ways, as they Imagine Means to make themselves Happy. All Men do not take the same Methods, but every one takes what he thinks most proper for his Design, The most odd and Fantastical, in my Opinion, is that which Presumption suggests to some Men, I mean to make themselv●● known in the Courts of Princes, and boldly pass among the great Men for extraordinary Persons. As they vainly flatter themselves that their not being known, is the only Reason why they are not distinguished, they think of nothing but showing themselves, and foolishly believe that this is all they have to do. The ordinary Ways by which every one ought to seek an Establishment most suitable for himself according to his Birth, and natural or acquired Qualities, for the Good of the Government he lives under, or his own proper Affairs, are absolutely unknown to our Men of Wit, who believing themselves to be extraordinary Men, think they must take extraordinary Methods; and are so vain upon their pretended Merit as to flatter themselves, that a Prince will break his usual Rules to raise and distinguish them from the Crowd.  
There is scarce a Wit but thinks himself worthy of being a princes Favourite, and the principal Object of his Countenance. On this Foundation, his Pride makes him pretend to every Thing Honours, Favour, recompenses, all is due to him. A few jingling Verses, an insignificant Book, an Oration either written or pronounced, a pompous Epistle at the Head of a wretched Translation, are so many Pieces which in his Opinion ought to speak highly in his Favour, and give him a just Title to Rewards, which are due only to true Merit.  
But in short, if he is dissatisfied with his Fortune, and his Hopes prove vain, he never fails of blaming the King and his Ministers for all the Disgrace and Trouble which his own ambitious Negligence, and Foolish Confidence have brought upon him. In that he supports very well his Character; for 'tis by the same Spirit of Presumption only that he applauds himself in secret for his pretended Qualifications, and murmurs at his Disgraces. Thus wanting both Strength and Liberty of Mind, infatuated and stubborn, and as useless to himself as he is to others, there is no Man more incapable of Business.   

XII.  
'Tis now time to put an end to this Work, which has insensibly increased under my Hand much more than I expected, tho' I have endeavoured to say nothing but what was absolutely necessary, to accomplish my Design. I was willing to show the World what an Opinion we ought to have of those we call Wits, and those we call Stupid; two Charactars which I have considered as two extremes, equally distant from that just Medium, where I thought myself obliged to place Good and Solid judgement. I have not passed my Censure upon them without a due Examination; I have pursued them in all the Places they most affect to appear; but above all the Man of Wit, whom I have the most narrowly observed, because the most artificial and the most to be feared. I have made it appear how Insipid he is in his Conversation, how Vain and Superficial in his Writings, how Rash and Imprudent in Affairs. I need say no more, to prove that the judgement is only estimable; and that Wit is false and deceitful in every respect.   
FINIS.