Liber II.

it is emitted by the imagination that the matter of this world is subordinate to those principles in order to naturally receive that form which is intended by those principles. This not only pre-ordains and dominates the human body to which it is appropriated, but also all the matter of generable and corruptible things, such that this matter obeys it more than the contrary transmuting things. Therefore, from this subordination, it naturally follows by imagination that there is a real transmutation of one's own body and another's, as well as in the humors, and in things not participating in life or the concurrence of another thing, unless they are transmuted by the merit of such an imagination, thought, or estimation. This dominion is such that by the will of such a soul, rains and sterilities may occur, and a man may be cast from a horse, be afflicted with illness, or be healed.

First, Avicenna supposes that imagination, thought, desire, anger, and similar dispositions are primarily dispositions of the soul, but because it is in a body. Second, he supposes that from these movements of the soul it happens that the body is altered, and conversely, from alteration these movements occur. Third, he supposes that bodily alterations which follow these movements of the soul proceed immediately from those accidents of the soul. For it does not seem that there is anything that mediates between the imagination of falling and the downward movement. Fourth, he supposes that these forms impressed upon the soul change matter when the soul is present; whence if this form were (he says) in the soul of the world, it could universally change corruptible matter; but if it were in a particular soul, it could change the matter particularly subject to it, because we often see the matter of a body to which a soul is present changed by imagination. Fifth, he supposes that the human soul is not impressed upon matter, but is providing for it and fitted to it like a navigator to a ship.

From these, to use the words of the moderns, one may argue as follows: Any human soul, given a healthy body, is sufficient to change the matter of its own body because it dominates it. Therefore, a human soul, being most noble and very strong due to the constellations, will be able to transcend to working upon an alien body through imagination alone, without any external medium. Avicenna’s second proof is from the experience of those who are fascinated original: "fascinatorum"; refers to the power of the evil eye or hypnotic influence, who, as he maintains, can alter an alien body through a fixed imagination alone. And here Avicenna does not use the arguments and suppositions of Jacob of Forli; for that, to use the words of the moderns, leads to too much of an absurdity. When he says in his third supposition that the matter of the world is obedient to a nobler and a less noble principle, and argues that nature—and therefore the matter of the world—obeys such a soul more than its contrary, it is certain that one could argue with a similar form that a soul, by its imagination, would heat more strongly than fire.

Avicenna did not intend to demonstrate a priori, whence he cannot blamelessly convince of his path except a posteriori, and by assigning a cause to effects which he thought were known by themselves. It seemed to him that he could not speak otherwise in a colored way. Hence, Isigonus and Metrodorus, as Pliny testifies in the seventh book of his Natural History, chapter 2, fell into this opinion: they report that in Africa there are certain families whose praise is fatal, trees wither, and infants die. Isigonus adds that there is a race of the same kind among the Triballi and Illyrians, who fascinate and kill by sight those whom they gaze upon for too long, especially with their eyes, and that these have double pupils in their eyes.

They also say that there are women of this kind in Scythia, called Bithyae. But these things should not be ascribed to imaginations, but rather to the pestilential breath of the mouth or a poisonous vapor proceeding from the eyes, just as happens in those who are infected with the plague. For it is established that their souls possess a deadly power, which also reaches others through contagion, and grows strong and creeps by its own multiplication. These individuals who have the power of fascinating undergo, I know not what, something similar, deadly to themselves and to others.

And lest it seem impossible that poisonous humors of this kind be generated within us, I shall subjoin what Pliny recounts in Natural History, book 7, chapter 15, regarding the menstruation of women, from which human bodies are created. For he says thus: "Nothing is easily found more monstrous than the flow of women: many things sour upon their approach, crops touched by them become sterile, grafts die, garden germs are burned, and fruits upon which they sit fall; the brightness of mirrors is dulled by their mere gaze, the edge of iron is blunted, as is the shine of ivory. Bees die, and rust immediately seizes copper and iron, and an odor poisons the air; dogs who have tasted it are driven to madness, and a bite inflicts an incurable poison." Thus Pliny.

Our physicians also say that the plague does not always occur through contagion, but that the poison of that incurable disease is born from humors and spirits vitiated within the human being. Whereby it happens that not all things are to be referred to natural causes, but some even to demons—that is, those things which are true are to be referred to good angels and to God as miracles. Therefore, a miracle should be derived from faith rather than faith from a miracle. For Christ says: "If you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, and say to this mountain, 'move from here,' it will move." Faith, however, as some physicians have handed down, is an undoubting hope that settles and strengthens the spirit of a man—already stirred up in this way—within the airy spirit. But if, as Hippocrates and Galen teach, the love and faith of a sick person toward the physician contributes more to confidence, Avicenna says that this is more effective than medicine.

True faith has brought forth two daughters: one mortal, the other immortal. Hope is mortal. Charity is immortal. These arise from faith just as knowledge arises from sight; for those things which are not known cannot be hoped for or loved. Hope and charity consist in love, and both are habits of the rational appetite, which is called the will. Both are directed toward the same end and exercised by almost the same work. For both love, and follow the same things, but not in the same way. Hope looks to the reward. Charity looks to goodness. It was hope that said, "I have inclined my heart to perform your justifications forever, for the sake of retribution." Charity does not look to retribution. It loves liberally, without regard for wages, and is not concerned with the reward of heavenly goods, which "neither eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor has it ascended into the heart of man." These cannot be grasped by knowledge nor persuaded by opinion so that they might be hoped for; for who would hope for heaven without faith? Nor can they be loved—and by "loved" I mean that we not only embrace them with the mind, but also follow them through action, which is called ardent and effective love. Concerning things to be believed, however, knowledge is not had; opinion is not sufficient. Faith, which is situated between the two, possesses firmness along with knowledge, and shares obscurity with opinion (since it is in a riddle); it is sufficient for persuading those things which ought to be hoped for and loved. And insofar as it is firm in its adherence, it is immortal; but insofar as it is obscure, it is mortal. For when we see God face to face, all perplexity, all uncertainty, and all obscurity will be removed, and those remains of faith passing into knowledge will be all that survive.