XLVIII

Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-fourth place Instances of Strife, which I also call Instances of Predominance. These indicate the mutual predominance and subjection of virtues: which of them is stronger and prevails, which of them is weaker and gives way. For the motions and efforts of bodies are compounded, decomposed, and complicated, no less than the bodies themselves. I will therefore first propound the principal kinds of motions or active virtues in order that we may be able more clearly to compare them together in point of strength, and thereby to point out and designate more clearly the instances of strife and predominance.

Let the first motion be that motion of resistance in matter which is inherent in each several portion of it, and in virtue of which it absolutely refuses to be annihilated. So that no fire, no weight or pressure, no violence, no length of time can reduce any portion of matter, be it ever so small, to nothing, but it will ever be something, and occupy some space; and, to whatever straits it may be brought, will free itself by changing either its form or its place; or if this may not be, will subsist as it is; and will never come to such a pass as to be either nothing or nowhere. This motion the Schoolmen (who almost always name and define things rather by effects and incapacities than by inner causes) either denote by the axiom "two bodies cannot be in one place," or call "the motion to prevent penetration of dimensions." Of this motion it is unnecessary to give examples, as it is inherent in every body.

Let the second motion be what I call motion of connection, by which bodies do not suffer themselves to be separated at any point from contact with another body, as delighting in mutual connection and contact. This motion the Schoolmen call "motion to prevent a vacuum," as when water is drawn up by suction or in a pump; the flesh by cupping glasses; or when water stops without running out in perforated jars unless the mouth of the jar be opened to let in the air; and in numberless instances of a similar kind.

Let the third motion be what I call motion of liberty, by which bodies strive to escape from preternatural pressure or tension and to restore themselves to the dimensions suitable to their nature. Of this motion also we have innumerable examples, such as (to speak first of escape from pressure) the motion of water in swimming, of air in flying, of water in rowing, of air in the undulations of winds, of a spring in clocks — of which we have also a pretty instance in the motion of the air compressed in children's popguns, when they hollow out an alder twig or some such thing and stuff it up at both ends with a piece of pulpy root or the like, and then with a ramrod thrust one of the roots or whatever the stuffing be toward the other hole, from which the root at the further end is discharged with a report, and that before it is touched by the nearer root or the ramrod. As for bodies escaping from tension, this motion displays itself in air remaining in glass eggs after suction; in strings, in leather and in cloth, which recoil after tension, unless it has gained too great strength by continuance; and in similar phenomena. This motion the Schoolmen refer to under the name of "motion in accordance with the form of the element"; an injudicious name enough, since it is a motion which belongs not only to fire, air, and water, but to every variety of solid substance, as wood, iron, lead, cloth, parchment, etc.; each of which bodies has its own proper limit of dimension out of which it cannot easily be drawn to any considerable extent. But since this motion of liberty is of all the most obvious, and is of infinite application, it would be a wise thing to distinguish it well and clearly. For some very carelessly confuse this motion with the two former motions of resistance and connection, the motion, that is, of escape from pressure with the motion of resistance; of escape from tension with the motion of connection — just as if bodies when compressed yield or expand, that there may not ensue penetration of dimensions; and, when stretched, recoil and contract, that there may not ensue a vacuum. Whereas if air when compressed had a mind to contract itself to the density of water, or wood to the density of stone, there would be no necessity for penetration of dimensions, yet there might be a far greater compression of these bodies than they ever do actually sustain. In the same way, if water had a mind to expand to the rarity of air, or stone to the rarity of wood, there would be no need for a vacuum to ensue, and yet there might be effected a far greater extension of these bodies than they ever do actually sustain. Thus the matter is never brought to a penetration of dimensions or to a vacuum, except in the extreme limits of condensation and rarefaction, whereas the motions of which I speak stop far short of these limits, and are nothing more than desires which bodies have for preserving themselves in their consistencies (or, if the Schoolmen like, in their forms), and not suddenly departing therefrom unless they be altered by gentle means, and with consent. But it is far more necessary (because much depends upon it) that men should know that violent motion (which we call mechanical, but which Democritus, who in expounding his primary motions is to be ranked even below second-rate philosophers, called motion of stripe) is nothing more than this motion of liberty, that is, of escape from compression to relaxation. For either in a mere thrust, or in flight through the air, there occurs no movement or change of place until the parts of the body moved are acted upon and compressed by the impelling body more than their nature will bear. Then, indeed, when each part pushes against the next, one after the other, the whole is moved. And it not only moves forward, but revolves at the same time, the parts seeking in that way also to free themselves or to distribute the pressure more equally. And so much for this motion.

Let the fourth motion be that to which I have given the name of the motion of matter, which is in some sort the converse of the last named motion. For in the motion of liberty bodies dread, loathe, and shun a new dimension, or a new sphere, or new expansion or contraction (which are all names for the same thing), and strive with all their might to recoil, and recover their old consistency. On the contrary, in this motion of matter bodies desire a new sphere or dimension and aspire thereto readily and quickly, and sometimes, as in the case of gunpowder, with most violent effort. Now the instruments of this motion, not indeed the sole, but the most potent, or at any rate the most common, are heat and cold. For instance, air, if expanded by tension, as by suction in glass eggs, labors under a strong desire to recover itself. But if heat be applied, it longs, on the contrary, to expand, and desires a new sphere and passes into it readily as into a new form (so they phrase it); and after a certain degree of expansion cares not to return, unless invited thereto by the application of cold, which is not a return, but a renewed transmutation. In the same way water, if made to contract by pressure, resists and wishes to become such as it was, that is, larger. But if there intervene intense and continued cold, it changes itself spontaneously and gladly to the density of ice; and if the cold be continued long, without interruption from heat, as in grottoes and caverns of some depth, it turns to crystal or some similar material and never recovers its form.

Let the fifth motion be the motion of continuity, by which I do not mean simple and primary continuity with some other body (for that is the motion of connection), but self-continuity in a given body. For it is most certain that all bodies dread a solution of continuity, some more, some less, but all to a certain extent. For while in hard bodies, as steel or glass, the resistance to discontinuity is exceedingly strong, even in liquids, where it seems to disappear or at all events to be very feeble, it is not altogether absent but is certainly there, though in its lowest degree of power, and betrays itself in very many experiments as in bubbles, in the roundness of drops, in the thin threads of droppings from roofs, in the tenacity of glutinous bodies, and the like. But most of all does this appetite display itself if an attempt be made to extend the discontinuity to minute fragments. For in a mortar, after a certain amount of pulverization, the pestle produces no further effect; water does not penetrate into minute chinks; even air itself, notwithstanding its subtlety, does not suddenly pass through the pores of solid vessels but only after long insinuation.

Let the sixth motion be that which I call motion for gain, or motion of want. It is that by which bodies, when placed among quite heterogeneous and hostile bodies, if they find an opportunity of escaping from these and uniting themselves to others more cognate (though these others be such as have no close union with them) do nevertheless embrace the latter and choose them as preferable; and seem to view this connection in the light of a gam (whence the term), as though they stood in need of such bodies. For instance, gold or any other metal in the leaf does not like the surrounding air. If therefore it meet with any thick tangible body (as a finger, paper, what you will) it instantly sticks to it and is not easily torn away. So too paper, cloth, and the like do not agree well with the air which is lodged in their pores. They are therefore glad to imbibe water or other moisture and eject the air. A piece of sugar too, or a sponge, if dipped at one end in water or wine, while the other stands out far above the surface, draws the water or the wine gradually upward.

Hence we derive an excellent rule for opening and dissolving bodies. For (to say nothing of corrosives and strong waters which open for themselves a way) if there can be found a body proportioned to and more in harmony and affinity with a given solid body than that with which it is as of necessity mixed, the solid body immediately opens and relaxes itself, and shutting out or ejecting the latter, receives the former into itself. Nor does this motion for gain act or exist only in immediate contact. For electricity (of which Gilbert and others after him have devised such stories) is nothing else than the appetite of a body when excited by gentle friction — an appetite which does not well endure the air but prefers some other tangible body, if it be found near at hand.

Let the seventh motion be what I call the motion of the greater congregation, by which bodies are carried toward masses of a like nature with themselves — heavy bodies to the globe of the earth, light to the compass of the heaven. This the Schoolmen have denoted by the name of natural motion from superficial considerations; either because there was nothing conspicuous externally which could produce such motion (and therefore they supposed it to be innate and inherent in things themselves), or perhaps because it never ceases. And no wonder; for the earth and heaven are ever there, whereas the causes and origins of most other motions are sometimes absent, sometimes present. Accordingly this motion, because it ceases not but when others cease is felt instantly, they deem perpetual and proper, all others adscititious. This motion, however, in point of fact is sufficiently weak and dull, being one which, except in bodies of considerable bulk, yields and succumbs to all other motions, as long as they are in operation. And though this motion has so filled men's thoughts as to have put all others almost out of sight, yet it is but little that they know about it, being involved in many errors with regard to it.

Let the eighth motion be the motion of the lesser congregation, by which the homogeneous parts in a body separate themselves from the heterogeneous and combine together; by which also entire bodies from similarity of substance embrace and cherish each other, and sometimes are attracted and collected together from a considerable distance; as when in milk, after it has stood a while, the cream rises to the top, while in wine the dregs sink to the bottom. For this is not caused by the motion of heaviness and lightness only, whereby some parts rise up and some sink down, but much more by a desire of the homogeneous parts to come together and unite in one.

Now this motion differs from the motion of want in two points. One is that in the latter there is the stronger stimulus of a malignant and contrary nature, whereas in this motion (provided there be nothing to hinder or fetter it) the parts unite from friendship even in the absence of a foreign nature to stir up strife. The other point is that the union is here closer and, as it were, with greater choice. In the former, if only the hostile body be avoided, bodies not closely related come together, whereas in the latter, substances are drawn together by the tie of close relationship and, as it were, combine into one. And this motion resides in all composite bodies and would readily show itself were it not bound and restrained by other appetites and necessities in the bodies which interfere with the union in question.

Now the binding of this motion takes place generally in three ways: by the torpor of bodies; by the check of a dominant body; and by external motions. Now, for the torpor of bodies, it is certain that there resides in tangible substances a certain sluggishness, more or less, and an aversion from change of place; insomuch that, unless they be excited, they had rather remain as they are than change for the better. Now this torpor is shaken off by the help of three things: either by heat, or by the eminent virtue of some cognate body, or by lively and powerful motion. And as for the help of heat, it is for this reason that heat has been denned to be "that which separates Heterogeneous and congregates Homogeneous parts"; a definition of the Peripatetics justly derided by Gilbert, who says it is much the same as if a man were to be denned as that which sows wheat and plants vines — for that it is, a definition simply by effects, and those particular. But the definition has a worse fault, inasmuch as these effects, such as they are, arise not from a peculiar property of heat, but only indirectly (for cold does the same, as I shall afterwards show); being caused by the desire of homogeneous parts to unite, heat simply aiding to shake off the torpor which had previously bound the desire. As for the help derived from the virtue of a cognate body, it is well seen in an armed magnet which excites in iron the virtue of detaining iron by similarity of substance, the torpor of the iron being cast off by the virtue of the magnet. And as for help derived from motion, it is shown in wooden arrows, having their points also of wood, which penetrate more deeply into wood than if they were tipped with steel, owing to the similarity of substance, the torpor of the wood being shaken off by the rapid motion. Of these two experiments I have spoken also in the Aphorism on Clandestine Instances.

That binding of the motion of the lesser congregation which is caused by the restraint of a dominant body is seen in the resolution of blood and urine by cold. For as long as those bodies are filled with the active spirit which, as lord of the whole, orders and restrains the several parts of whatsoever sort, so long the homogeneous parts do not meet together on account of the restraint. But as soon as the spirit has evaporated, or been choked by cold, then the parts being freed from restraint meet together in accordance with their natural desire. And thus it happens that all bodies which contain an eager spirit (as salts and the like) remain as they are, and are not resolved, owing to the permanent and durable restraint of a dominant and commanding spirit.

That binding of the motion of lesser congregation which is caused by external motion is most conspicuous in the shaking of bodies to prevent putrefaction. For all putrefaction depends on the assembling together of homogeneous parts, whence there gradually ensues the corruption of the old form, as they call it, and the generation of a new. For putrefaction, which paves the way for the generation of a new form, is preceded by a dissolution of the old, which is itself a meeting together of homogeneous parts. That, indeed, if not impeded, is simple resolution. But if it be met by various obstacles there follow putrefactions, which are the rudiments of a new generation. But if (which is the present question) a frequent agitation be kept up by external motion, then indeed this motion of uniting (which is a delicate and tender one, and requires rest from things without) is disturbed and ceases, as we see happen in numberless instances. For example, the daily stirring or flowing of water prevents it from putrefying; winds keep off pestilence in the air; corn turned and shaken in the granary remains pure; all things, in short, that are shaken outwardly are the slower to putrefy inwardly.

Lastly, I must not omit that meeting of the parts of bodies which is the chief cause of induration and desiccation. For when the spirit, or moisture turned to spirit, has escaped from some porous body (as wood, bone, parchment, and the like), then the grosser parts are with stronger effort drawn and collected together; whence ensues induration or desiccation, which I take to be owing not so much to the motion of connection to prevent a vacuum as to this motion of friendship and union.

As for the meeting of bodies from a distance, that is a rare occurrence, and yet it exists in more cases than are generally observed. We have illustrations of it when bubble dissolves bubble; when medicines draw humors by similarity of substance; when the chord of one violin makes the chord of another sound a unison, and the like. I suspect also that this motion prevails in the spirits of animals, though it be altogether unknown. At any rate it exists conspicuously in the magnet and magnetized iron. And now that we are speaking of the motions of the magnet, they ought to be carefully distinguished. For there are four virtues or operations in the magnet which should not be confounded but kept apart, although the wonder and admiration of men have mixed them up together. The first is, the attraction of magnet to magnet, or of iron to magnet, or of magnetized iron to iron. The second is its polarity, and at the same time its declination. The third, its power of penetrating through gold, glass, stone, everything. The fourth, its power of communicating its virtue from stone to iron, and from iron to iron, without communication of substance. In this place, however, I am speaking only of the first of these virtues — that is, its attractive power. Remarkable also is the motion of attraction between quicksilver and gold, insomuch that gold attracts quicksilver, though made up into ointments; and men who work amid the vapors of quicksilver usually hold a piece of gold in their mouths to collect the exhalations which would otherwise penetrate into their skulls and bones; by which also the piece of gold is presently turned white. And so much for the motion of the lesser congregation.

Let the ninth motion be the magnetic, which, though it be of the same genus with the motion of the lesser congregation, yet if it operates at great distances and on large masses, deserves a separate investigation, especially if it begin not with contact, as most, nor lead to contact, as all motions of congregation do, but simply raises bodies or makes them swell, and nothing more. For if the moon raises the waters, or makes moist things swell; if the starry heaven attracts planets to their apogees; if the sun holds Venus and Mercury so that their elongations never exceed a certain distance; these motions seem to fall properly neither under the greater nor the lesser congregation, but to be of a sort of intermediate and imperfect congregation, and therefore ought to constitute a species by themselves.

Let the tenth motion be that of flight (a motion the exact opposite of that of the lesser congregation), by which bodies from antipathy flee from and put to flight hostile bodies, and separate themselves from them or refuse to mingle with them. For although in some cases this motion may seem to be an accident or a consequence of the motion of the lesser congregation, because the homogeneous parts cannot meet without dislodging and ejecting the heterogeneous, still it is a motion that should be classed by itself and formed into a distinct species, because in many cases the appetite of flight is seen to be more dominant than the appetite of union.

This motion is eminently conspicuous in the excretions of animals and not less in objects odious to some of the senses, especially the smell and the taste. For a fetid odor is so rejected by the sense of smell as to induce by consent in the mouth of the stomach a motion of expulsion; a rough and bitter taste is so rejected by the palate or throat as to induce by consent a shaking of the head and a shudder. But this motion has place in other things also. It is observed in certain forms of reaction; as in the middle region of the air, where the cold seems to be the effect of the rejection of the nature of cold from the confines of the heavenly bodies; as also the great heats and burnings which are found in subterranean places appear to be rejections of the nature of heat from the inner parts of the earth. For heat and cold, in small quantities, kill one another. But if they be in large masses, and as it were in regular armies, the result of the conflict is that they displace and eject each other in turn. It is also said that cinnamon and other perfumes retain their scent longer when placed near sinks and foul-smelling places because they refuse to come out and mingle with stenches. It is certain that quicksilver, which of itself would reunite into an entire mass, is kept from doing so by spittle, hog's lard, turpentine, and the like, owing to the ill consent which its parts have with such bodies, from which, when spread around them, they draw back, so that their desire to fly from these intervening bodies is more powerful than their desire of uniting with parts like themselves. And this is called the mortification of quicksilver. The fact also that oil does not mix with water is not simply owing to the difference of weight, but to the ill consent of these fluids, as may be seen from the fact that spirit of wine, though lighter than oil, yet mixes well enough with water. But most of all is the motion of flight conspicuous in niter and such like crude bodies, which abhor flame; as in gunpowder, quicksilver, and gold. But the flight of iron from one pole of the magnet is well observed by Gilbert to be not a flight strictly speaking, but a conformity and meeting in a more convenient situation.

Let the eleventh motion be that of assimilation, or of self-multiplication, or again of simple generation. By which I mean not the generation of integral bodies, as plants or animals, but of bodies of uniform texture. That is to say, by this motion such bodies convert others which are related, or at any rate well disposed to them, into their own substance and nature. Thus flame over vapors and oily substances multiplies itself and generates new flame; air over water and watery substances multiplies itself and generates new air; spirit, vegetable and animal, over the finer parts as well of watery as of oily substance in its food, multiplies itself and generates new spirit; the solid parts of plants and animals, as the leaf, flower, flesh, bone, and the like, severally assimilate new substance to follow and supply what is lost out of the juices of their food. For let no one adopt the wild fancy of Paracelsus who (blinded I suppose by his distillations) will have it that nutrition is caused only by separation, and that in bread and meat lie eye, nose, brain, liver; in the moisture of the ground, root, leaf, and flower. For as the artist out of the rude mass of stone or wood educes, by separation and rejection of what is superfluous, leaf, flower, eye, nose, hand, foot, and the like, so, he maintains, does Archæus, the internal artist, educe out of food by separation and rejection the several members and parts of our body. But to leave such trifles, it is most certain that the several parts, as well similar as organic, in vegetables and animals do first attract with some degree of selection the juices of their food, which are alike or nearly so for all, and then assimilate them and turn them into their own nature. Nor does this assimilation or simple generation take place only in animate bodies, but inanimate also participate therein, as has been stated of flame and air. Moreover, the non-vital spirit, which is contained in every tangible animated substance, is constantly at work to digest the coarser parts and turn them into spirit, to be afterwards discharged; whence ensues diminution of weight and desiccation, as I have stated elsewhere. Nor must we set apart from assimilation that accretion which is commonly distinguished from alimentation; as when clay between stones concretes and turns into a stony substance, or the scaly substance on the teeth turns into a substance as hard as the teeth themselves, and so on. For I am of opinion that there resides in all bodies a desire for assimilation as well as for uniting with homogeneous substances; but this virtue is bound, as is the other, though not by the same means. But these means, as well as the way of escape from them, ought to be investigated with all diligence because they pertain to the rekindling of the vital power in old age. Lastly, it seems worthy of observation that in the nine motions of which I have spoken ¹ bodies seem to desire only the preservation of their nature, but in this tenth the propagation of it.

Let the twelfth motion be that of excitation, a motion which seems to belong to the genus of assimilation and which I sometimes call by that name. For it is a motion diffusive, communicative, transitive, and multiplicative, as is the other, and agreeing with it generally in effect though differing in the mode of effecting and in the subject matter. For the motion of assimilation proceeds, as it were, with authority and command; it orders and forces the assimilated body to turn into the assimilating. But the motion of excitation proceeds, so to speak, with art and by insinuation, and stealthily, simply inviting and disposing the excited body to the nature of the exciting. Again, the motion of assimilation multiplies and transforms bodies and substances. Thus more flame is produced, more air, more spirit, more flesh. But in the motion of excitation virtues only are multiplied and transferred; more heat being engendered, more magnetic power, more putrefying. This motion is particularly conspicuous in heat and cold. For heat does not diffuse itself, in heating a body, by communication of the original heat but simply by exciting the parts of the body to that motion which is the form of heat, of which I have spoken in the First Vintage concerning the nature of heat. Consequently heat is excited far more slowly and with far greater difficulty in stone or metal than in air, owing to the unfitness and unreadiness of those bodies to receive the motion. So that it is probable that there may exist materials in the bowels of the earth which altogether refuse to be heated, because through their greater condensation they are destitute of that spirit with which this motion of excitation generally begins. In like manner the magnet endues iron with a new disposition of its parts and a conformable motion, but loses nothing of its own virtue. Similarly leaven, yeast, curd, and certain poisons excite and invite a successive and continued motion in dough, beer, cheese, or the human body, not so much by the force of the exciting as by the predisposition and easy yielding of the excited body.

Let the thirteenth motion be the motion of impression, which also is of the same genus with the motion of assimilation, and is of diffusive motions the most subtle. I have thought fit, however, to make a distinct species of it, on account of a remarkable difference between it and the two former. For the simple motion of assimilation actually transforms the bodies themselves, so that you may take away the first mover, and there will be no difference in what follows. For the first kindling into flame, or the first turning into air, has no effect on the flame or air next generated. In like manner, the motion of excitation continues, after the first mover is withdrawn, for a very considerable time: as in a heated body when the primary heat has been removed; in magnetized iron when the magnet has been put away; in dough when the leaven has been taken out. But the motion of impression, though diffusive and transitive, seems to depend forever on the prime mover. So that if that be taken away or cease to act, it immediately fails and comes to an end, and therefore the effect must be produced in a moment, or at any rate in a very brief space of time. The motions therefore of assimilation and excitation I call motions of the generation of Jupiter, because the generation continues; but this, the motion of the generation of Saturn, because the birth is immediately devoured and absorbed. It manifests itself in three things: in rays of light, in the percussions of sounds, and in magnetism, as regards the communication of the influence. For if you take away light, colors and its other images instantly disappear; if you take away the original percussion and the vibration of the body thence produced, the sound soon after dies away. For though sounds are troubled as they pass through their medium by winds, as if by waves, yet it must be carefully noted that the original sound does not last all the time the resonance goes on. For if you strike a bell, the sound seems to be continued for a good long time, whereby we might easily be led into the error of supposing that during the whole of the time the sound is, as it were, floating and hanging in the air, which is quite untrue. For the resonance is not the identical sound, but a renewal of it, as is shown by quieting or stopping the body struck. For if the bell be held tight so that it cannot move, the sound at once comes to an end and resounds no more — as in stringed instruments, if after the first percussion the string be touched, either with the finger, as in the harp, or with the quill, as in the spinet, the resonance immediately ceases. Again, when the magnet is removed, the iron immediately drops. The moon indeed cannot be removed from the sea, nor the earth from the falling body, and therefore we can try no experiment in these cases; but the principle is the same.

Let the fourteenth motion be the motion of configuration or position, by which bodies seem to desire not union or separation, but position, collocation, and configuration with respect to others. This motion is a very abstruse one and has not been well investigated. In some cases, indeed, it seems to be without a cause, though not, I believe, really so. For if it be asked why the heavens revolve rather from east to west than from west to east, or why they turn on poles placed near the Bears rather than about Orion, or in any other part of heaven, such questions seem to border on insanity, since these phenomena ought rather to be received as results of observation, and merely positive facts. But though there are no doubt in nature certain things ultimate and without cause, this does not appear to me to be one of them, being caused in my opinion by a certain harmony and consent of the universe which has not yet fallen under observation. And if we admit the motion of the earth from west to east, the same questions remain. For it also moves on certain poles. And why, it might be asked, should these poles be placed where they are, rather than anywhere else? Again the polarity, direction, and declination of the magnet are referable to this motion. There are also found in bodies natural as well as artificial, especially in solids, a certain collocation and position of parts, and a kind of threads and fibers, which ought to be carefully investigated since, until they are understood, these bodies cannot be conveniently managed or controlled. But those eddyings in fluids, by which when pressed, before they can free themselves, they relieve each other that they may all have a fair share of the pressure, belong more properly to the motion of liberty.

Let the fifteenth motion be the motion of transition, or motion according to the passages, by which the virtues of bodies are more or less impeded or promoted by their media, according to the nature of the body and of the acting virtues, and also of the medium. For one medium suits light, another sound, another heat and cold, another magnetic virtues, and so on.

Let the sixteenth motion be the royal (as I call it) or political motion, by which the predominant and commanding parts in any body curb, tame, subdue, and regulate the other parts, and compel them to unite, separate, stand still, move, and range themselves, not in accordance with their own desires, but as may conduce to the well-being of the commanding part; so that there is a sort of government and polity exerted by the ruling over the subject parts. This motion is eminently conspicuous in the spirits of animals where, as long as it is in vigor, it tempers all the motions of the other parts. It is found however in other bodies in a lower degree; as I said of blood and urine, which are not decomposed till the spirit which mixes and keeps together their parts be discharged or quenched. Nor is this motion confined to spirits, though in most bodies the spirits are masters owing to their rapid and penetrating motion. But in bodies of greater density and not filled with a lively and quickening spirit (such as there is in quicksilver and vitriol), the thicker parts are the masters, so that unless this yoke and restraint be by some expedient shaken off, there is very little hope of any new transformation of such bodies. But let no one suppose that I am forgetful of the point at issue, because while this series and distribution of motions tends to nothing else but the better investigation of their predominancy by instances of strife, I now make mention of predominancy among the motions themselves. For in describing this royal motion I am not treating of the predominancy of motions or virtues, but of the predominancy of parts in bodies; such being the predominancy which constitutes the peculiar species of motion in question.

Let the seventeenth motion be the spontaneous motion of rotation, by which bodies delighting in motion and favorably placed for it enjoy their own nature, and follow themselves, not another body, and court (so to speak) their own embraces. For bodies seem either to move without limit, or to remain altogether at rest, or to tend to a limit at which, according to their nature, they either revolve or rest. Those which are favorably placed, if they delight in motion, move in a circle, with a motion, that is, eternal and infinite. Those which are favorably placed, and abhor motion, remain at rest. Those which are not favorably placed move in a right line (as the shortest path) to consort with bodies of their own nature. But this motion of rotation admits of nine differences regarding 1. the center round which the bodies move; 2. the poles on which they move; 3. their circumference or orbit, according to their distance from the center; 4. their velocity, according to the greater or less rapidity of their rotation; 5. the course of their motion, as from east to west, or from west to east; 6. their declination from a perfect circle by spiral lines more or less distant from their center; 7. their declination from a perfect circle by spiral lines more or less distant from their poles; 8. the greater or lesser distance of these spirals from each other; 9. and lastly, the variation of the poles themselves, if they be movable; which, however, has nothing to do with rotation unless it be circular. This motion in common and long received opinion is looked upon as the proper motion of heavenly bodies, though there is a grave dispute with regard to it among some both of the ancients and of the moderns, who have attributed rotation to the earth. But a juster question perhaps arises upon this (if it be not past question), namely, whether this motion (admitting that the earth stands still) is confined to the heavens, and does not rather descend and communicate itself to the air and waters. The motion of rotation in missiles, as in darts, arrows, musket balls, and the like, I refer to the motion of liberty.

Let the eighteenth motion be the motion of trepidation, to which, as understood by astronomers, I do not attach much credit. But in searching carefully everywhere for the appetites of natural bodies this motion comes before us and ought, it seems, to constitute a species by itself. It is a motion of what may be called perpetual captivity and occurs when bodies that have not quite found their right place, and yet are not altogether uneasy, keep forever trembling and stirring themselves restlessly, neither content as they are nor daring to advance further. Such a motion is found in the heart and pulses of animals, and must of necessity occur in all bodies which so exist in a mean state between conveniences and inconveniences that when disturbed they strive to free themselves, and being again repulsed, are yet forever trying again.

Let the nineteenth and last motion be one which, though it hardly answers to the name, is yet indisputably a motion; and let us call it the motion of repose, or of aversion to move. It is by this motion that the earth stands still in its mass while its extremities are moving toward the middle — not to an imaginary center, but to union. By this appetite also all bodies of considerable density abhor motion. Indeed, the desire of not moving is the only appetite they have; and though in countless ways they be enticed and challenged to motion, they yet, as far as they can, maintain their proper nature. And if compelled to move, they nevertheless seem always intent on recovering their state of rest and moving no more. While thus engaged, indeed, they show themselves active and struggle for it with agility and swiftness enough, as weary and impatient of all delay. Of this appetite but a partial representation can be seen, since here with us, from the subduing and concocting power of the heavenly bodies, all tangible substances are not only not condensed to their utmost, but are even mixed with some portion of spirit.

Thus, then, have I set forth the species or simple elements of motions, appetites, and active virtues, which are in nature most general. And under these heads no small portion of natural science is sketched out. I do not, however, mean to say that other species may not be added, or that the divisions I have made may not be drawn more accurately according to the true veins of nature, or reduced to a smaller number. Observe, nevertheless, that I am not here speaking of any abstract divisions, as if one were to say that bodies desire either the exaltation or the propagation or the fruition of their nature; or again, that the motions of things tend to the preservation and good either of the universe, as resistance and connection; or of great wholes, as the motions of the greater congregation, rotation, and aversion to move; or of special forms, as the rest. For though these assertions be true, yet unless they be defined by true lines in matter and the fabric of nature, they are speculative and of little use. Meanwhile, these will suffice and be of good service in weighing the predominancies of virtues and finding out instances of strife, which is our present object

For of the motions I have set forth some are quite invincible; some are stronger than others, fettering, curbing, arranging them; some carry farther than others; some outstrip others in speed; some cherish, strengthen, enlarge, and accelerate others.

The motion of resistance is altogether adamantine and invincible. Whether the motion of connection be so, I am still undecided. For I am not prepared to say for certain whether or no there be a vacuum, either collected in one place or interspersed in the pores of bodies. But of one thing I am satisfied, that the reason for which a vacuum was introduced by Leucippus and Democritus (namely, that without it the same bodies could not embrace and fill sometimes larger and sometimes smaller spaces) is a false one. For matter is clearly capable of folding and unfolding itself in space, within certain limits, without the interposition of a vacuum; nor is there in air two thousand times as much of vacuity as there is in gold. which on their hypothesis there should be. Of this I am sufficiently convinced by the potency of the virtues of pneumatical bodies (which otherwise would be floating in empty space like fine dust) and by many other proofs. As for the other motions, they rule and are ruled in turn, in proportion to their vigor, quantity, velocity, force of projection, and also to the helps and hindrances they meet with.

For instance, there are some armed magnets that hold and suspend iron of sixty times their own weight, so far does the motion of the lesser prevail over the motion of the greater congregation; but if the weight be increased, it is overcome. A lever of given strength will raise a given weight, so far does the motion of liberty prevail over that of the greater congregation; but if the weight be increased, it is overcome. Leather stretches to a certain extent without breaking, so far does the motion of continuity prevail over the motion of tension; but if the tension be increased, the leather breaks and the motion of continuity is overcome. Water runs out at a crack of a certain size, so far does the motion of the greater congregation prevail over the motion of continuity; but if the crack be smaller, it gives way, and the motion of continuity prevails. If you charge a gun with ball and sulphur only, and apply the match, the ball is not discharged, the motion of the greater congregation overcoming in this case the motion of matter. But if you charge with gunpowder, the motion of matter in the sulphur prevails, being aided by the motions of matter and of flight in the niter. And so of other cases. Instances of strife, therefore, which point out the predominancies of virtues together with the manner and proportion in which they predominate or give place, should be sought and collected from all quarters with keen and careful diligence.

Nor should we examine less carefully the modes in which these motions give way. That is to say, whether they stop altogether or whether they continue to resist but are overpowered. For in bodies here with us there is no real rest, either in wholes or in parts, but only in appearance. And this apparent rest is caused either by equilibrium, or by absolute predominancy of motions: by equilibrium, as in scales, which stand still if the weights be equal; by predominancy, as in watering pots with holes in them, where the water rests and is kept from falling out by the predominancy of the motion of connection. But it should be observed, as I have said, how far these yielding motions carry their resistance. For if a man be pinned to the ground, tied hand and foot, or otherwise held fast, and yet struggle to rise with all his might, the resistance is not the less though it be unsuccessful. But the real state of the case (I mean whether by predominancy the yielding motion is, so to speak, annihilated, or rather whether a resistance is continued, though we cannot see it) will perhaps, though latent in the conflicts of motions, be apparent in their concurrence. For example, let trial be made in shooting. See how far a gun will carry a ball straight, or as they say point-blank, and then try whether, if it be fired upward, the stroke will be feebler than when it is fired downward, where the motion of gravity concurs with the blow.

Lastly, such canons of predominance as we meet with should be collected; for instance, that the more common the good sought, the stronger the motion. Thus the motion of connection, which regards communion with the universe, is stronger than the motion of gravity, which regards only communion with dense bodies. Again, that appetites which aim at a private good seldom prevail against appetites which aim at a more public good, except in small quantities — rules which I wish held good in politics.