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<h2> CHAPTER XX——OF THE FORCE OF IMAGINATION </h2>
<p>"Fortis imaginatio generat casum," say the schoolmen.<br/>
["A strong imagination begets the event itself."—Axiom. Scholast.]<br/></p>
<p>I am one of those who are most sensible of the power of imagination: every
one is jostled by it, but some are overthrown by it. It has a very
piercing impression upon me; and I make it my business to avoid, wanting
force to resist it. I could live by the sole help of healthful and jolly
company: the very sight of another's pain materially pains me, and I often
usurp the sensations of another person. A perpetual cough in another
tickles my lungs and throat. I more unwillingly visit the sick in whom by
love and duty I am interested, than those I care not for, to whom I less
look. I take possession of the disease I am concerned at, and take it to
myself. I do not at all wonder that fancy should give fevers and sometimes
kill such as allow it too much scope, and are too willing to entertain it.
Simon Thomas was a great physician of his time: I remember, that happening
one day at Toulouse to meet him at a rich old fellow's house, who was
troubled with weak lungs, and discoursing with the patient about the
method of his cure, he told him, that one thing which would be very
conducive to it, was to give me such occasion to be pleased with his
company, that I might come often to see him, by which means, and by fixing
his eyes upon the freshness of my complexion, and his imagination upon the
sprightliness and vigour that glowed in my youth, and possessing all his
senses with the flourishing age wherein I then was, his habit of body
might, peradventure, be amended; but he forgot to say that mine, at the
same time, might be made worse. Gallus Vibius so much bent his mind to
find out the essence and motions of madness, that, in the end, he himself
went out of his wits, and to such a degree, that he could never after
recover his judgment, and might brag that he was become a fool by too much
wisdom. Some there are who through fear anticipate the hangman; and there
was the man, whose eyes being unbound to have his pardon read to him, was
found stark dead upon the scaffold, by the stroke of imagination. We
start, tremble, turn pale, and blush, as we are variously moved by
imagination; and, being a-bed, feel our bodies agitated with its power to
that degree, as even sometimes to expiring. And boiling youth, when fast
asleep, grows so warm with fancy, as in a dream to satisfy amorous
desires:—</p>
<p>"Ut, quasi transactis saepe omnibu rebu, profundant<br/>
Fluminis ingentes, fluctus, vestemque cruentent."<br/></p>
<p>Although it be no new thing to see horns grown in a night on the forehead
of one that had none when he went to bed, notwithstanding, what befell
Cippus, King of Italy, is memorable; who having one day been a very
delighted spectator of a bullfight, and having all the night dreamed that
he had horns on his head, did, by the force of imagination, really cause
them to grow there. Passion gave to the son of Croesus the voice which
nature had denied him. And Antiochus fell into a fever, inflamed with the
beauty of Stratonice, too deeply imprinted in his soul. Pliny pretends to
have seen Lucius Cossitius, who from a woman was turned into a man upon
her very wedding-day. Pontanus and others report the like metamorphosis to
have happened in these latter days in Italy. And, through the vehement
desire of him and his mother:</p>
<p>"Volta puer solvit, quae foemina voverat, Iphis."<br/></p>
<p>Myself passing by Vitry le Francois, saw a man the Bishop of Soissons had,
in confirmation, called Germain, whom all the inhabitants of the place had
known to be a girl till two-and-twenty years of age, called Mary. He was,
at the time of my being there, very full of beard, old, and not married.
He told us, that by straining himself in a leap his male organs came out;
and the girls of that place have, to this day, a song, wherein they advise
one another not to take too great strides, for fear of being turned into
men, as Mary Germain was. It is no wonder if this sort of accident
frequently happen; for if imagination have any power in such things, it is
so continually and vigorously bent upon this subject, that to the end it
may not so often relapse into the same thought and violence of desire, it
were better, once for all, to give these young wenches the things they
long for.</p>
<p>Some attribute the scars of King Dagobert and of St. Francis to the force
of imagination. It is said, that by it bodies will sometimes be removed
from their places; and Celsus tells us of a priest whose soul would be
ravished into such an ecstasy that the body would, for a long time, remain
without sense or respiration. St. Augustine makes mention of another, who,
upon the hearing of any lamentable or doleful cries, would presently fall
into a swoon, and be so far out of himself, that it was in vain to call,
bawl in his ears, pinch or burn him, till he voluntarily came to himself;
and then he would say, that he had heard voices as it were afar off, and
did feel when they pinched and burned him; and, to prove that this was no
obstinate dissimulation in defiance of his sense of feeling, it was
manifest, that all the while he had neither pulse nor breathing.</p>
<p>'Tis very probable, that visions, enchantments, and all extraordinary
effects of that nature, derive their credit principally from the power of
imagination, working and making its chiefest impression upon vulgar and
more easy souls, whose belief is so strangely imposed upon, as to think
they see what they do not see.</p>
<p>I am not satisfied whether those pleasant ligatures—[Les nouements
d'aiguillettes, as they were called, knots tied by some one, at a wedding,
on a strip of leather, cotton, or silk, and which, especially when passed
through the wedding-ring, were supposed to have the magical effect of
preventing a consummation of the marriage until they were untied. See
Louandre, La Sorcellerie, 1853, p. 73. The same superstition and appliance
existed in England.]—with which this age of ours is so occupied,
that there is almost no other talk, are not mere voluntary impressions of
apprehension and fear; for I know, by experience, in the case of a
particular friend of mine, one for whom I can be as responsible as for
myself, and a man that cannot possibly fall under any manner of suspicion
of insufficiency, and as little of being enchanted, who having heard a
companion of his make a relation of an unusual frigidity that surprised
him at a very unseasonable time; being afterwards himself engaged upon the
same account, the horror of the former story on a sudden so strangely
possessed his imagination, that he ran the same fortune the other had
done; and from that time forward, the scurvy remembrance of his disaster
running in his mind and tyrannising over him, he was subject to relapse
into the same misfortune. He found some remedy, however, for this fancy in
another fancy, by himself frankly confessing and declaring beforehand to
the party with whom he was to have to do, this subjection of his, by which
means, the agitation of his soul was, in some sort, appeased; and knowing
that, now, some such misbehaviour was expected from him, the restraint
upon his faculties grew less. And afterwards, at such times as he was in
no such apprehension, when setting about the act (his thoughts being then
disengaged and free, and his body in its true and natural estate) he was
at leisure to cause the part to be handled and communicated to the
knowledge of the other party, he was totally freed from that vexatious
infirmity. After a man has once done a woman right, he is never after in
danger of misbehaving himself with that person, unless upon the account of
some excusable weakness. Neither is this disaster to be feared, but in
adventures, where the soul is overextended with desire or respect, and,
especially, where the opportunity is of an unforeseen and pressing nature;
in those cases, there is no means for a man to defend himself from such a
surprise, as shall put him altogether out of sorts. I have known some, who
have secured themselves from this mischance, by coming half sated
elsewhere, purposely to abate the ardour of the fury, and others, who,
being grown old, find themselves less impotent by being less able; and
one, who found an advantage in being assured by a friend of his, that he
had a counter-charm of enchantments that would secure him from this
disgrace. The story itself is not, much amiss, and therefore you shall
have it.</p>
<p>A Count of a very great family, and with whom I was very intimate, being
married to a fair lady, who had formerly been courted by one who was at
the wedding, all his friends were in very great fear; but especially an
old lady his kinswoman, who had the ordering of the solemnity, and in
whose house it was kept, suspecting his rival would offer foul play by
these sorceries. Which fear she communicated to me. I bade her rely upon
me: I had, by chance, about me a certain flat plate of gold, whereon were
graven some celestial figures, supposed good against sunstroke or pains in
the head, being applied to the suture: where, that it might the better
remain firm, it was sewed to a ribbon to be tied under the chin; a foppery
cousin-german to this of which I am speaking. Jaques Pelletier, who lived
in my house, had presented this to me for a singular rarity. I had a fancy
to make some use of this knack, and therefore privately told the Count,
that he might possibly run the same fortune other bridegrooms had
sometimes done, especially some one being in the house, who, no doubt,
would be glad to do him such a courtesy: but let him boldly go to bed. For
I would do him the office of a friend, and, if need were, would not spare
a miracle it was in my power to do, provided he would engage to me, upon
his honour, to keep it to himself; and only, when they came to bring him
his caudle,—[A custom in France to bring the bridegroom a caudle in
the middle of the night on his wedding-night]— if matters had not
gone well with him, to give me such a sign, and leave the rest to me. Now
he had had his ears so battered, and his mind so prepossessed with the
eternal tattle of this business, that when he came to't, he did really
find himself tied with the trouble of his imagination, and, accordingly,
at the time appointed, gave me the sign. Whereupon, I whispered him in the
ear, that he should rise, under pretence of putting us out of the room,
and after a jesting manner pull my nightgown from my shoulders—we
were of much about the same height— throw it over his own, and there
keep it till he had performed what I had appointed him to do, which was,
that when we were all gone out of the chamber, he should withdraw to make
water, should three times repeat such and such words, and as often do such
and such actions; that at every of the three times, he should tie the
ribbon I put into his hand about his middle, and be sure to place the
medal that was fastened to it, the figures in such a posture, exactly upon
his reins, which being done, and having the last of the three times so
well girt and fast tied the ribbon that it could neither untie nor slip
from its place, let him confidently return to his business, and withal not
forget to spread my gown upon the bed, so that it might be sure to cover
them both. These ape's tricks are the main of the effect, our fancy being
so far seduced as to believe that such strange means must, of necessity,
proceed from some abstruse science: their very inanity gives them weight
and reverence. And, certain it is, that my figures approved themselves
more venereal than solar, more active than prohibitive. 'Twas a sudden
whimsey, mixed with a little curiosity, that made me do a thing so
contrary to my nature; for I am an enemy to all subtle and counterfeit
actions, and abominate all manner of trickery, though it be for sport, and
to an advantage; for though the action may not be vicious in itself, its
mode is vicious.</p>
<p>Amasis, King of Egypt, having married Laodice, a very beautiful Greek
virgin, though noted for his abilities elsewhere, found himself quite
another man with his wife, and could by no means enjoy her; at which he
was so enraged, that he threatened to kill her, suspecting her to be a
witch. As 'tis usual in things that consist in fancy, she put him upon
devotion, and having accordingly made his vows to Venus, he found himself
divinely restored the very first night after his oblations and sacrifices.
Now women are to blame to entertain us with that disdainful, coy, and
angry countenance, which extinguishes our vigour, as it kindles our
desire; which made the daughter-in-law of Pythagoras—[Theano, the
lady in question was the wife, not the daughter-in-law of Pythagoras.]—
say, "That the woman who goes to bed to a man, must put off her modesty
with her petticoat, and put it on again with the same." The soul of the
assailant, being disturbed with many several alarms, readily loses the
power of performance; and whoever the imagination has once put this trick
upon, and confounded with the shame of it (and she never does it but at
the first acquaintance, by reason men are then more ardent and eager, and
also, at this first account a man gives of himself, he is much more
timorous of miscarrying), having made an ill beginning, he enters into
such fever and despite at the accident, as are apt to remain and continue
with him upon following occasions.</p>
<p>Married people, having all their time before them, ought never to compel
or so much as to offer at the feat, if they do not find themselves quite
ready: and it is less unseemly to fail of handselling the nuptial sheets,
when a man perceives himself full of agitation and trembling, and to await
another opportunity at more private and more composed leisure, than to
make himself perpetually miserable, for having misbehaved himself and been
baffled at the first assault. Till possession be taken, a man that knows
himself subject to this infirmity, should leisurely and by degrees make
several little trials and light offers, without obstinately attempting at
once, to Force an absolute conquest over his own mutinous and indisposed
faculties. Such as know their members to be naturally obedient, need take
no other care but only to counterplot their fantasies.</p>
<p>The indocile liberty of this member is very remarkable, so importunately
unruly in its tumidity and impatience, when we do not require it, and so
unseasonably disobedient, when we stand most in need of it: so imperiously
contesting in authority with the will, and with so much haughty obstinacy
denying all solicitation, both of hand and mind. And yet, though his
rebellion is so universally complained of, and that proof is thence
deduced to condemn him, if he had, nevertheless, feed me to plead his
cause, I should peradventure, bring the rest of his fellow-members into
suspicion of complotting this mischief against him, out of pure envy at
the importance and pleasure especial to his employment; and to have, by
confederacy, armed the whole world against him, by malevolently charging
him alone, with their common offence. For let any one consider, whether
there is any one part of our bodies that does not often refuse to perform
its office at the precept of the will, and that does not often exercise
its function in defiance of her command. They have every one of them
passions of their own, that rouse and awaken, stupefy and benumb them,
without our leave or consent. How often do the involuntary motions of the
countenance discover our inward thoughts, and betray our most private
secrets to the bystanders. The same cause that animates this member, does
also, without our knowledge, animate the lungs, pulse, and heart, the
sight of a pleasing object imperceptibly diffusing a flame through all our
parts, with a feverish motion. Is there nothing but these veins and
muscles that swell and flag without the consent, not only of the will, but
even of our knowledge also? We do not command our hairs to stand on end,
nor our skin to shiver either with fear or desire; the hands often convey
themselves to parts to which we do not direct them; the tongue will be
interdict, and the voice congealed, when we know not how to help it. When
we have nothing to eat, and would willingly forbid it, the appetite does
not, for all that, forbear to stir up the parts that are subject to it, no
more nor less than the other appetite we were speaking of, and in like
manner, as unseasonably leaves us, when it thinks fit. The vessels that
serve to discharge the belly have their own proper dilatations and
compressions, without and beyond our concurrence, as well as those which
are destined to purge the reins; and that which, to justify the
prerogative of the will, St. Augustine urges, of having seen a man who
could command his rear to discharge as often together as he pleased,
Vives, his commentator, yet further fortifies with another example in his
time,—of one that could break wind in tune; but these cases do not
suppose any more pure obedience in that part; for is anything commonly
more tumultuary or indiscreet? To which let me add, that I myself knew one
so rude and ungoverned, as for forty years together made his master vent
with one continued and unintermitted outbursting, and 'tis like will do so
till he die of it. And I could heartily wish, that I only knew by reading,
how often a man's belly, by the denial of one single puff, brings him to
the very door of an exceeding painful death; and that the emperor,—[The
Emperor Claudius, who, however, according to Suetonius (Vita, c. 32), only
intended to authorise this singular privilege by an edict.]—who gave
liberty to let fly in all places, had, at the same time, given us power to
do it. But for our will, in whose behalf we prefer this accusation, with
how much greater probability may we reproach herself with mutiny and
sedition, for her irregularity and disobedience? Does she always will what
we would have her to do? Does she not often will what we forbid her to
will, and that to our manifest prejudice? Does she suffer herself, more
than any of the rest, to be governed and directed by the results of our
reason? To conclude, I should move, in the behalf of the gentleman, my
client, it might be considered, that in this fact, his cause being
inseparably and indistinctly conjoined with an accessory, yet he only is
called in question, and that by arguments and accusations, which cannot be
charged upon the other; whose business, indeed, it is sometimes
inopportunely to invite, but never to refuse, and invite, moreover, after
a tacit and quiet manner; and therefore is the malice and injustice of his
accusers most manifestly apparent. But be it how it will, protesting
against the proceedings of the advocates and judges, nature will, in the
meantime, proceed after her own way, who had done but well, had she
endowed this member with some particular privilege; the author of the sole
immortal work of mortals; a divine work, according to Socrates; and love,
the desire of immortality, and himself an immortal demon.</p>
<p>Some one, perhaps, by such an effect of imagination may have had the good
luck to leave behind him here, the scrofula, which his companion who has
come after, has carried with him into Spain. And 'tis for this reason you
may see why men in such cases require a mind prepared for the thing that
is to be done. Why do the physicians possess, before hand, their patients'
credulity with so many false promises of cure, if not to the end, that the
effect of imagination may supply the imposture of their decoctions? They
know very well, that a great master of their trade has given it under his
hand, that he has known some with whom the very sight of physic would
work. All which conceits come now into my head, by the remembrance of a
story was told me by a domestic apothecary of my father's, a blunt Swiss,
a nation not much addicted to vanity and lying, of a merchant he had long
known at Toulouse, who being a valetudinary, and much afflicted with the
stone, had often occasion to take clysters, of which he caused several
sorts to be prescribed him by the physicians, acccording to the accidents
of his disease; which, being brought him, and none of the usual forms, as
feeling if it were not too hot, and the like, being omitted, he lay down,
the syringe advanced, and all ceremonies performed, injection alone
excepted; after which, the apothecary being gone, and the patient
accommodated as if he had really received a clyster, he found the same
operation and effect that those do who have taken one indeed; and if at
any time the physician did not find the operation sufficient, he would
usually give him two or three more doses, after the same manner. And the
fellow swore, that to save charges (for he paid as if he had really taken
them) this sick man's wife, having sometimes made trial of warm water
only, the effect discovered the cheat, and finding these would do no good,
was fain to return to the old way.</p>
<p>A woman fancying she had swallowed a pin in a piece of bread, cried and
lamented as though she had an intolerable pain in her throat, where she
thought she felt it stick; but an ingenious fellow that was brought to
her, seeing no outward tumour nor alteration, supposing it to be only a
conceit taken at some crust of bread that had hurt her as it went down,
caused her to vomit, and, unseen, threw a crooked pin into the basin,
which the woman no sooner saw, but believing she had cast it up, she
presently found herself eased of her pain. I myself knew a gentleman, who
having treated a large company at his house, three or four days after
bragged in jest (for there was no such thing), that he had made them eat
of a baked cat; at which, a young gentlewoman, who had been at the feast,
took such a horror, that falling into a violent vomiting and fever, there
was no possible means to save her. Even brute beasts are subject to the
force of imagination as well as we; witness dogs, who die of grief for the
loss of their masters; and bark and tremble and start in their sleep; so
horses will kick and whinny in their sleep.</p>
<p>Now all this may be attributed to the close affinity and relation betwixt
the soul and the body intercommunicating their fortunes; but 'tis quite
another thing when the imagination works not only upon one's own
particular body, but upon that of others also. And as an infected body
communicates its malady to those that approach or live near it, as we see
in the plague, the smallpox, and sore eyes, that run through whole
families and cities:—</p>
<p>"Dum spectant oculi laesos, laeduntur et ipsi;<br/>
Multaque corporibus transitione nocent."<br/>
["When we look at people with sore eyes, our own eyes become sore.<br/>
Many things are hurtful to our bodies by transition."<br/>
—Ovid, De Rem. Amor., 615.]<br/></p>
<p>—so the imagination, being vehemently agitated, darts out infection
capable of offending the foreign object. The ancients had an opinion of
certain women of Scythia, that being animated and enraged against any one,
they killed him only with their looks. Tortoises and ostriches hatch their
eggs with only looking on them, which infers that their eyes have in them
some ejaculative virtue. And the eyes of witches are said to be assailant
and hurtful:—</p>
<p>"Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos."<br/>
["Some eye, I know not whose is bewitching my tender lambs."<br/>
—Virgil, Eclog., iii. 103.]<br/></p>
<p>Magicians are no very good authority with me. But we experimentally see
that women impart the marks of their fancy to the children they carry in
the womb; witness her that was brought to bed of a Moor; and there was
presented to Charles the Emperor and King of Bohemia, a girl from about
Pisa, all over rough and covered with hair, whom her mother said to be so
conceived by reason of a picture of St. John the Baptist, that hung within
the curtains of her bed.</p>
<p>It is the same with beasts; witness Jacob's sheep, and the hares and
partridges that the snow turns white upon the mountains. There was at my
house, a little while ago, a cat seen watching a bird upon the top of a
tree: these, for some time, mutually fixing their eyes one upon another,
the bird at last let herself fall dead into the cat's claws, either
dazzled by the force of its own imagination, or drawn by some attractive
power of the cat. Such as are addicted to the pleasures of the field,
have, I make no question, heard the story of the falconer, who having
earnestly fixed his eyes upon a kite in the air; laid a wager that he
would bring her down with the sole power of his sight, and did so, as it
was said; for the tales I borrow I charge upon the consciences of those
from whom I have them. The discourses are my own, and found themselves
upon the proofs of reason, not of experience; to which every one has
liberty to add his own examples; and who has none, let him not forbear,
the number and varieties of accidents considered, to believe that there
are plenty of them; if I do not apply them well, let some other do it for
me. And, also, in the subject of which I treat, our manners and motions,
testimonies and instances; how fabulous soever, provided they are
possible, serve as well as the true; whether they have really happened or
no, at Rome or Paris, to John or Peter, 'tis still within the verge of
human capacity, which serves me to good use. I see, and make my advantage
of it, as well in shadow as in substance; and amongst the various readings
thereof in history, I cull out the most rare and memorable to fit my own
turn. There are authors whose only end and design it is to give an account
of things that have happened; mine, if I could arrive unto it, should be
to deliver of what may happen. There is a just liberty allowed in the
schools, of supposing similitudes, when they have none at hand. I do not,
however, make any use of that privilege, and as to that matter, in
superstitious religion, surpass all historical authority. In the examples
which I here bring in, of what I have heard, read, done, or said, I have
forbidden myself to dare to alter even the most light and indifferent
circumstances; my conscience does not falsify one tittle; what my
ignorance may do, I cannot say.</p>
<p>And this it is that makes me sometimes doubt in my own mind, whether a
divine, or a philosopher, and such men of exact and tender prudence and
conscience, are fit to write history: for how can they stake their
reputation upon a popular faith? how be responsible for the opinions of
men they do not know? and with what assurance deliver their conjectures
for current pay? Of actions performed before their own eyes, wherein
several persons were actors, they would be unwilling to give evidence upon
oath before a judge; and there is no man, so familiarly known to them, for
whose intentions they would become absolute caution. For my part, I think
it less hazardous to write of things past, than present, by how much the
writer is only to give an account of things every one knows he must of
necessity borrow upon trust.</p>
<p>I am solicited to write the affairs of my own time by some, who fancy I
look upon them with an eye less blinded with passion than another, and
have a clearer insight into them by reason of the free access fortune has
given me to the heads of various factions; but they do not consider, that
to purchase the glory of Sallust, I would not give myself the trouble,
sworn enemy as I am to obligation, assiduity, or perseverance: that there
is nothing so contrary to my style, as a continued narrative, I so often
interrupt and cut myself short in my writing for want of breath; I have
neither composition nor explanation worth anything, and am ignorant,
beyond a child, of the phrases and even the very words proper to express
the most common things; and for that reason it is, that I have undertaken
to say only what I can say, and have accommodated my subject to my
strength. Should I take one to be my guide, peradventure I should not be
able to keep pace with him; and in the freedom of my liberty might deliver
judgments, which upon better thoughts, and according to reason, would be
illegitimate and punishable. Plutarch would say of what he has delivered
to us, that it is the work of others: that his examples are all and
everywhere exactly true: that they are useful to posterity, and are
presented with a lustre that will light us the way to virtue, is his own
work. It is not of so dangerous consequence, as in a medicinal drug,
whether an old story be so or so.</p>
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