atoms and void, as these did in the originals of all things. Cartesius
reckoned to see before he died the sentiments of all philosophers, like
so many lesser stars in his romantic system, rapt and drawn within his
own vortex. Now I would gladly be informed how it is possible to account
for such imaginations as these in particular men, without recourse to my
phenomenon of vapours ascending from the lower faculties to overshadow
the brain, and there distilling into conceptions, for which the
narrowness of our mother-tongue has not yet assigned any other name
beside that of madness or frenzy. Let us therefore now conjecture how it
comes to pass that none of these great prescribers do ever fail providing
themselves and their notions with a number of implicit disciples, and I
think the reason is easy to be assigned, for there is a peculiar string
in the harmony of human understanding, which in several individuals is
exactly of the same tuning. This, if you can dexterously screw up to its
right key, and then strike gently upon it whenever you have the good
fortune to light among those of the same pitch, they will by a secret
necessary sympathy strike exactly at the same time. And in this one
circumstance lies all the skill or luck of the matter; for, if you chance
to jar the string among those who are either above or below your own
height, instead of subscribing to your doctrine, they will tie you fast,
call you mad, and feed you with bread and water. It is therefore a point
of the nicest conduct to distinguish and adapt this noble talent with
respect to the differences of persons and of times. Cicero understood
this very well, when, writing to a friend in England, with a caution,
among other matters, to beware of being cheated by our hackney-coachmen
(who, it seems, in those days were as arrant rascals as they are now),
has these remarkable words, _Est quod gaudeas te in ista loca venisse_,
_ubi aliquid sapere viderere_ {129}. For, to speak a bold truth, it is a
fatal miscarriage so ill to order affairs as to pass for a fool in one
company, when in another you might be treated as a philosopher; which I
desire some certain gentlemen of my acquaintance to lay up in their
hearts as a very seasonable innuendo.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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