Introduction

In the preface to his celebrated Micrographia (1665), Robert Hooke reflected on the general aims of experimental natural investigations and wrote of a “universal cure of the Mind” that this new philosophy was called upon, and was able, to perform.¹ He also gestured toward the restorative office of such a (postlapsarian) cure: “The only way which now remains for us to recover some degree of those former perfections, seems to be, by rectifying the operations of the Sense, the Memory, and Reason.” The rectification of the faculties and the partial recuperation of their strength, integrity, and mutual harmony were the route toward a Baconian double renovation of “light” and of “command over things.”² Similarly, in his apologetic History of the Royal Society of London (1667), Thomas Sprat considered the way in which the experimental philosophy was “usefull for the cure of mens minds”: it “will supply our thoughts with excellent Medicines, against their own Extravagances, and will serve in some sort, for the same ends, which the Moral professes to accomplish.” There was a moral dimension to the new, “Real Philosophy” promoted by the Royal Society, which, Sprat explained, rested not on some new moral doctrine it might formulate, but rather on its capacity to serve as a practice that cultivates the moral person: experimental study will have a sure effect on the inquirers “in the composing, and purifying of their thoughts.”³

The purification, rectification, and reordering of the human mind were thus inscribed among the general aims of the experimental natural philosophy, as two of its prominent advocates in later seventeenth-century England saw it. The notion was not new, though, and Hooke and Sprat were looking back to the model figure of the Royal Society in formulating this claim. Francis Bacon had indeed written of a “purging,” a “medicining,” or a “culture” of the mind, provided by the reformed disciplines of his tree of knowledge, in particular by the moral and the natural philosophies.⁴ His new method of natural inquiry (or his new “logic”) offered, he claimed, “helps” (auxilia) and “ministrations” (ministrationes) to the human faculties, and thus a route toward a partial restoration of man’s prelapsarian mental powers.⁵ Later in the century, Robert Boyle and John Locke rehearsed the notion that a well-framed pursuit of knowledge could provide remedies for the “infirmities,” “weaknesses,” and “blemishes” of the mind of man.⁶ They no longer spoke of a possible restoration of Adamic powers in this life, but rather emphasized the work of an education of the mental capacities to which they assigned a strong moral-religious value. Their recommendations for the rightful pursuit of truth were meant to indicate a way to a “perfecting” of the mind.⁷ To perfect the mind was emphatically a process (“perfection” itself could not be an achievement of this life), one that had to organize the “pilgrimage” of the Christian philosopher’s life. It was also a work that involved all the capacities of the mind, cognitive, volitional, and affective alike.

My concern in this book is to highlight the early modern English experimental philosophers’ views about the cure and perfecting of the human mind and to show that such views were fundamental to their epistemological and methodological projects. These projects will thus be reintegrated in what I propose is their original conceptual matrix, one organized by the idea that the rightful pursuit of true knowledge is a process that takes the form of regimens for the entire mind. This conception comprises the related notions of a need to diagnose the state of one’s cognitive and affective faculties through self-examination, and of a possibility—as well as duty—to cure their infirmities and cultivate their strengths. The cure and the cultivation are undertaken both as an office of the rational creature and as a task assigned to it by its Creator, and they have a central place among the values that govern the human being’s life as an individual, as a member of a community, and as a creature in relation to its deity. I would like to argue that, for the English experimental philosophers who are the main characters in this book, such a paideic concern⁸ with the human mind formed the ground of their views about the acquisition and transmission of knowledge, about the limits and possibilities of reason, about the governing of assent and the rightful conduct of inquiry across all domains of learning.

The focus of this book will be on Boyle and Locke, whom I take to be conspicuous proponents of the regimen approach to the pursuit of knowledge in later seventeenth-century England. The second part of the book will be entirely devoted to them. But I also want to show that their views are informed by a coherent line of reflection developed by early modern English proponents and apologists of the experimental philosophy, begun by Francis Bacon and continued by the Royal Society virtuosi. The first part of the book will therefore be partly devoted to Bacon’s and the virtuosi’s views about experimental philosophy as a paideic practice for the mind.

The experimental philosophical context will naturally focus the investigation on such views as bearing on the study of nature. Nevertheless, it will be seen that nature is only one of the domains of inquiry where the double pursuit of truth and of a fortified mind comes into play for Boyle and Locke. While the study of nature was indeed the prime domain relative to which an experimental methodology was formulated, the notion of experience understood as the guide to rightful study was applicable to other domains that the Christian philosopher was expected to include in his endeavors. These domains included the whole of creation—or the whole of “God’s works”—with its material and nonmaterial levels, as well as God’s written testimony, Scripture. They traced a territory of inquiry where experience was expected to inform reason, and thus to increase knowledge and understanding, while at the same time serving as a curing and perfecting practice. The paideic role that inquiry across all these domains had for Boyle and Locke is best grasped, I will propose, by recognizing the prominence in their writings of the figure of the inquirer. Their epistemological and methodological views relative to the study of both nature and Scripture are filtered through accounts of the failures and the accomplishments of those who engage in that study. It is as an explanation of those failures and accomplishments that the diagnosis of, and remedial proposals for, the mind acquire their full significance.

The historical point of this study is double: on the one hand, I want to show that there is indeed a coherent line of English thought that, despite variations and changes, develops a core doctrine that remains stable from Bacon to such Royal Society virtuosi as Robert Hooke, Walter Charleton, Joseph Glanvill, Thomas Sprat, and to Boyle and Locke. On the other hand, it will be seen that this development in the English natural philosophy of the seventeenth century is only partly original. What is original is the marshaling of experimental philosophy itself as a specific type of practice in the service of the preoccupation with the government and training of the mind. But that preoccupation was a larger phenomenon of the time, one that permeated the cultural space of early modern Europe and that traversed a number of disciplines and genres. Therefore, a second contextual level of my investigation in the first part of the book will be constituted by the early modern literature on the “cure” and “cultivation” of the mind, with a focus on those authors that Boyle and Locke were familiar with. These authors will be, again, mainly English. This is not to deny the transnational scope of this type of literature, and in fact references to relevant Continental authors will not be absent from my survey. Similarly, references to the developments in the Continental “new philosophy” relevant to my subject—e.g., to Descartes, Gassendi, Pascal, and Port Royal—will also feature in various places in this book. Nevertheless, my English focus is meant to give a sense of the coherence of the reflections on the topic of the cure and cultivation of the mind in this national territory, throughout the century, and across a variety of genres and disciplines. This is not to say that it was an English phenomenon, but to try to account for the way this European preoccupation took (internally coherent) shape in England.

I treat this early modern literature under the heading medicina and cultura animi, in recognition of the core notions that organize its approach to the human mind: its professed aim was to offer “medicine” or “physick,” or else to prescribe the best “culture,” for a mind described as “diseased” or “distempered” or “perturbed.” In turn, these notions explicitly elaborate on ancient representations of both philosophy and religion as such “cures” or “cultures” for the soul: they are thus jointly indebted to what I will describe as the Socratic and the Patristic/Augustinian traditions, which most of the early modern texts aim to combine in various ways. I will group these texts according to the most prominent genres they illustrate (treatises of the passions of the soul, anatomies of the mind, rhetorics, tracts of wisdom and of consolation), and I will particularly highlight the capacity of the treatise of the passions to accommodate a multigenre and cross-disciplinary approach in its own format. This will be to emphasize the noncompartmentalized nature of this early modern endeavor, which transgresses disciplinary as well as institutional boundaries, and whose practitioner is often called, with a comprehensive term, the “physician of the soul.” The types of texts I will present have been approached before, as the quoted scholarship will indicate, but they have been treated separately, as they served the purposes of histories of rhetoric, of moral-medical writing, of religious discourse, or of moralist and psychological literature. What I want to emphasize here instead is the transdisciplinary nature of the preoccupation of these genres and the common ground they share. That common ground includes analyses of the faculties and distempers of the whole mind and prescriptions of remedies and cultivating regimens, envisioned as life programs. I will use the term “regimen” as the best encompassing descriptor of the types of operations performed on the human mind they advocated, and thus as an equivalent of “cure,” “cultivation,” “education,” “training,” “government,” or “discipline.” In referring to these texts as a whole I will speak of medicina-cultura animi (with the short variant cultura animi) genres, texts, literature, as well as themes, attitudes, or approaches. In order to emphasize the coherence of this development through the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and its resonance in the cultural space of the time, I will also refer to an early modern “cultura animi tradition” and to a “culture of regimens.”

One key feature of the texts I will analyze in more depth is the integrated nature of their approach to the human mind, in particular to the cognitive and the affective, as well as to the intellectual and the moral, aspects of the life of the mind. This integrated approach is consistently pursued at all the levels of their endeavor: the diagnosis of the distempers, the formulation of the regimens, and the description of their outcome as either “virtues” or “health” of the mind. As such, these texts make room for analyses of error (as a member of the cognitive-affective distempers) and of the virtues of examination (as crossing the moral-intellectual divide), which represent remarkable epistemological developments in what could otherwise appear as (merely) moralist genres. While these developments are significant in themselves and testify to the emergence of a noteworthy approach to the problem of knowledge in an unexpected intellectual milieu, their main relevance for the present study lies in their contextual force. They form, I want to claim, the natural intellectual environment for the similarly integrated approaches to the mind’s distempers, regimens, and virtues in the writings of Bacon, the virtuosi, Boyle, and Locke. These philosophers’ programs include a vital component of life-guiding regimens that is best appreciated if seen against the cultura animi literature.

The general thesis of this book is that there is an anthropological-therapeutic core to the English experimental philosophers’ approach to the problem of knowledge, the general features of which are concurrent with the same approach in the cultura animi texts. Their philosophical programs are premised on analyses of the limits, frailties, or distempers of the human mind and consequently framed so as to answer the need for an inner reformation. I will therefore propose that, in their case, the solution to the problem of knowledge takes the form of a solution to the problem of ordering the mind. The distinctive features of the early modern English experimental philosophy that have to do with the general level of its epistemology and methodology and with the values and goals attached to it are, I want to show, shaped by the terms in which the anthropological-therapeutic core is formulated. The latter provides a central line of legitimation for the experimental, as opposed to the contemplative or speculative, way of natural inquiry, and it helps define a complex notion of the “utility” of natural philosophy; it reshapes early modern epistemological categories such as the limits of reason, probable knowledge, or moderate skepticism, and it governs the format of the rules, methods, and procedures of inquiry; it generates an equivalent to the modern notion of “objectivity” from which it nevertheless differs in crucial ways, and it provides an argument for the value of the communal nature of the experimental practice, as well as for its relevance to the problem of social order. In what follows I will draw a preliminary sketch of these themes, while also indicating the position of this argument in relation to current scholarship in the history of philosophy and of science.

In trying to reintegrate early modern approaches to knowledge into their original intellectual and cultural matrix, this book joins the recent challenge to the “epistemological paradigm” in historical understanding, according to which early modern philosophy was primarily confronted with the epistemological question of the justification of knowledge, following the historical event of the challenge of skepticism. This interpretative grid, various scholars agree, fails to recognize the complexity of the ways in which the early moderns themselves viewed the philosophical pursuits in which they engaged. For instance, with the epistemological paradigm aside, we may start to understand that for some of them at least, the pursuit of philosophical inquiry was organized by the idea of leading an exemplary life, rather than by the aim of constructing theories of knowledge and its possibility or justification, apart from any other intellectual or cultural motivation.⁹ The attempt to understand the ways in which early modern philosophy incorporated the idea of a way of life has led to several fruitful lines of research in recent scholarship. In response to the revival of attention to the ancient notion of philosophy as an art of living, due primarily to Pierre Hadot’s work, historians of philosophy and science have argued for the appropriateness of reconstructing early modern philosophical programs not only in terms of theoretical bodies of propositions or sets of scientific practices, but also in terms of practical regimens and formative disciplines for shaping the individuals engaged in the philosophical or scientific life. The core insight here is that the early modern appropriates the ancient view of philosophy as fundamentally paideia or askesis rather than simply theoria.

Two major and interrelated historiographic tools have governed research along these lines. One is the notion of spiritual exercises, which Pierre Hadot has shown formed the core of the ancient practice of the art of living,¹⁰ and which scholars of early modern thought have used to reinterpret the philosophical, scientific, or political projects of seventeenth-and eighteenth-century thinkers. According to this historiographic perspective, various conceptions of the best solution for training or cultivating selves helped shape the metaphysical, natural philosophical, and mathematical pursuits of, for instance, Descartes, Pascal, Leibniz, or the competing civil and metaphysical philosophies in the German Enlightenment.¹¹ The other tool is the notion of the persona of the philosopher—an exemplary identity wrought by intellectual, moral, and even corporeal disciplines, one that represented an office (sometimes a noninstitutionalized one) in specific cultural spaces. Recognition of the historical relevance of this category, it has been proposed, enables us to understand the interlacing of the theoretical and the paideic components of philosophical (including natural philosophical) programs from the early modern age to the nineteenth century.¹² There is surely some measure of overlap between the spiritual exercises and the persona approaches. Stephen Gaukroger made the link in his study of Francis Bacon, as did Ian Hunter in his survey of the early modern German philosophical programs, or John Cottingham in his argument about a Cartesian philosophical askesis.¹³

I will propose that the philosophy-as-a-way-of-life framework is equally applicable to the experimental philosophical programs of early modern England. While this proposal may look unproblematic in view of the trend in early modern studies sketched above, there is nevertheless resistance to it even from within that trend. Resistance turns on the question of the virtues, or of the inner work of self-transformation and its fruits, which is associated with the idea of a way of life. As far as the early modern English philosophy is concerned, there is somewhat of a consensus about a shift toward the disengagement of knowledge from virtue (especially intellectual virtue) in the work of the experimental philosophers. Thus, Stephen Gaukroger took a persona and spiritual exercises approach to Bacon, but his study suggests that this approach can very well go together with a thesis about the breakdown of the concern with the virtues. According to Gaukroger, the Baconian reformation of the natural philosopher was no longer an inner reformation building personal excellence. A similar thesis has been put forward by studies that take the Aristotelian-Thomistic model of the virtues as the standard of analysis. John Cottingham, for instance, sees Descartes as indebted precisely to such a model. By comparison, Bacon (as representative of the English experimental philosophy) appears as the antihero of the demise of the virtues.¹⁴ Similarly, Peter Harrison argues for an exhaustion of the traditional models of the virtues (both the Aristotelian-Thomistic and the hermetic-mystic) in early modern England. The shift was due, Harrison argues, to the impact of the Protestant view about the radical and insurmountable corruption of man’s intellect after the Fall. On this Augustinian conception of human nature, the individual was incapable of performing the kinds of inner transformations required for the attainment of moral and intellectual virtues. With fallen human beings, knowledge could be secured only at a social, cooperative level by means of procedures that were apt to achieve the external dependability of knowledge results without relying on the inner transformations of (corrupt) individuals. Impersonal methods thus superseded personal virtues on the route to knowledge.¹⁵

I would like to challenge this consensus on two fronts. One is a historical point that has to do with the model of the virtues taken as a point of reference: the Aristotelian-Thomistic and the hermetic-mystic models were not the only ones available in the early modern intellectual space, and I will argue that an alternative approach to the virtues of the mind is developed by the cultura animi genres. Theirs is an eclectic approach that interweaves Stoic, skeptical, and Christian virtues and that makes it possible to conceive of the virtues of the mind without associating them with the activity of (metaphysical) contemplation. It is precisely such a view of the virtues, I will argue, that is taken over by the English experimental philosophers. The other is a conceptual point about the type of anthropology at play in these philosophers’ texts. It is, again, the cultura animi literature that shows how Augustinian views on the corruption of human nature could be integrated into accounts that allowed for the possibility of a human work of “perfecting” the capacities of the mind and of an (arduous) progress toward a condition of “health” or “virtue.” I believe Harrison’s anthropological approach to the early modern problem of knowledge is an insightful and fruitful historiographic line, and this book will also argue for the crucial role of the analysis of the faculties in the early modern philosophers’ reflections on the pursuit and prospects of knowledge. Nevertheless, I will claim that the line of thought I am investigating relies on mitigated Augustinian accounts of human possibilities, which allow for inner reformation by means of a conjoined philosophical and religious work on the human mind. The role of the anthropological core of the English philosophers’ accounts of knowledge pursuit was to trace the contours of a therapeutic and cultivating regimen, which they thought experimental philosophy could serve as fruitfully as the disciplines of the “physicians of the soul.”

There is indeed a consistent line of defense of the experimental approach to the study of nature in English thought from Bacon to Boyle and Locke couched precisely in terms of its capacity to conduct the mind in the right way toward the double acquisition of truth and of virtuous dispositions. The counterpart of the defense was a polemic attack on competing solutions to the conjoined problems of the legitimate pursuit of knowledge and of the right course for the progress of the mind, in particular on the mathematical and the contemplative, speculative philosophies. The latter have been the main focus of the recent spiritual exercises approaches, and such studies have indeed made a persuasive case for these philosophies’ claim to a privileged position on the question of the pursuit of truth and of a rectified mind. From the opposite, experimental camp, though, things looked completely reversed. For the English experimental philosophers, speculation divorced from the detailed study of the particulars of nature simply failed on both accounts: it led to erroneous conclusions about the world and in fact sprang from, as well as reinforced, the perturbations of the mind. While the polemical opposition between experimental and speculative philosophy in the second half of the seventeenth century was indeed a major methodological issue, as Peter Anstey has shown,¹⁶ it will be seen that the same opposition also rested on competing claims about the rightful regimen for the mind. It was, moreover, a later seventeenth-century issue that in fact had its roots in a fully developed Baconian theme.

This vindication of experimental inquiry also accounts for the vindication of its utility. The utility theme is usually addressed with unique reference to the experimental philosophers’ reiterated designation of “works” for the public and of relief for humankind as a prime objective of their researches, and it is often interpreted in terms of the (later) notion of utilitarianism. Recent scholarship has challenged this association and has highlighted the role of seventeenth-century “utility” within a humanist-inspired social ethics.¹⁷ But I want to show that this notion lies at the articulation point of a social ethics with an individual ethics: usefulness for the relief of man has as a constant counterpart in these philosophers’ texts the usefulness of experimental inquiry for ordering and fortifying the mind of the inquirer.

The defense of experimental as opposed to speculative inquiry in regimen terms rests on a particular set of views about the legitimate sources of knowledge, about the limits, distempers, and “perfecting” prospects of the human faculties, and about the kind of dispositions that constitute the mind’s health or virtue. The highlighting of experience as the central source of knowledge (about the entire realm of things, natural as well as theological) is premised on a thesis about the limitations of the human intellect, coupled with a conception of the correct relationship between the human mind and the created world. There are only a limited number of truths that can be gleaned by contemplative introspection, and those pertaining to a comprehensive understanding of nature or Scripture are not among them. Experience is therefore the key learning instrument. On the other hand, few of the things learned through experience can acquire a high degree of certainty, since the complexity and depth of the natural and theological systems of things far exceed human capacities. Any new finding is in fact dependant on a larger scheme of things, and any conclusion is bound to remain tentative. At the same time, it is not only the complexity and depth of the system but also the constant threat of the distempered inclinations of the mind that argues for the need to remain cautious about findings and conclusions and to continue inquiry. It is against this background of considerations about the limits and weaknesses of the mind that, I will argue, the famous probabilism and skepticism of the experimental philosophy are endorsed. Such epistemological categories, which have been justly highlighted as one of the central features of the experimental philosophical program,¹⁸ are reworked by its proponents in such a way that they not only represent appropriate responses to their anthropological position, but also function as appropriate therapeutic tools, serving a discipline of observation, judgment, and emotions, and issuing in such virtuous dispositions of the mind as constancy, humility, docility, generosity, or candor.

I will also argue that the accounts of mind dispositions (or “tempers”) form the salient context of these authors’ prescription of methods or rules for conducting inquiry and for governing belief formation. These rules, it will be noted, never amount to any strictly methodized or formalized procedure. Boyle’s advice for the conduct of inquiry, Locke’s rules for regulating assent, and the two philosophers’ method for interpreting Scripture hardly constitute such a type of procedure.¹⁹ The looseness of these rules makes sense, though, if they are taken as general guidelines for the inquirer’s work, whose value lies in the personal progress of the inquirer rather than in the (apersonal) efficiency of the method. Philosophical methods and rules for regulating inquiry acquire the additional function of guidelines for the regulation of the mind’s activities, and they are geared toward the double acquisition of true knowledge and of a healthy or virtuous disposition of the mind. The role of methods in inquiry therefore does not overrule, but on the contrary supports, the cultivation of personal excellence. Inquiry is not geared to the obtaining of dependable knowledge and scientific results for their own sake, but involves a course of training for the minds of the inquirers as one of its core aims.

Such a cultivating role for methods is also allied with the development of what we might call an equivalent to the modern notion of “objectivity,” which is nevertheless a virtue notion, often called “universality.” The thesis about the emergence in the seventeenth century of a specifically English divorce of knowledge from virtue is often coupled with an account of the rise in the same context of the modern standard of objectivity. According to Peter Harrison, objectivity was a feature of the external dependability of impersonal methods, meant to placate individual corruption. According to Stephen Gaukroger, objectivity was an outcrop of the value of intellectual honesty that went into the making of the new persona of the natural philosopher. This value governed a new ideal of the acquisition of person-effacing qualities, meant to ensure collectively recognizable results rather than personal excellence.20 Certainly, impersonal objectivity is itself a value, and as such it may well be seen to ensure the “moral integrity” of the experimental community or to organize a “moral economy” of science, as Steven Shapin, Simon Schaffer, and Lorraine Daston have argued.²¹ Shapin and Schaffer have highlighted the social-moral values that legitimated the experimental “form of life” in the face of competing philosophies, and Shapin has built a case for the relevance of the early modern gentlemanly virtues for the exemplary moral standing of the experimental persona.²² From this social historical perspective, objectivity is indeed recognized as a moral value that comes into play at the level of the community. But it is also the case that, as such, it remains exterior to the person and is thus indifferent to the question of the cultivation of self-transforming virtues. I want to argue that, for the experimental philosophers discussed in this book, the features of what will later be called “objectivity” are actually understood as virtuous dispositions acquired by disciplines meant to transform the “temper” of the philosophers’ minds.

A related claim will be that the social dimensions of the English experimental philosophical programs of the seventeenth century can be seen as integral to the preoccupation with the moral-cum-intellectual grooming of inquirers. On the one hand, for the Royal Society virtuosi, as for the “physicians of the soul,” the community was instrumental in the education of personal virtue and fulfilled a role similar to that of the “wise friends” in the cultura animi tradition. While the collective establishment and validation of matters of fact was indeed one of the new functions of the experimental community, which Shapin and Schaffer have argued was jointly epistemological and social, I will suggest that another of its functions was that of a forum for purging distempers and cultivating virtues of the mind. “Civility” was indeed a communal desideratum of the virtuosi, but in the early modern culture, the referent of this virtue could include both polite manners and virtuous minds. It is true that civility as inner cultivation tended to lose ground under the pressure of civility as social form. Norbert Elias has described this process in terms of a tension between Kultur and Zivilisation in the modern German space, and Peter Miller has pointed to a similar phenomenon in early seventeenth-century France.²³ But it will be seen that for the English virtuosi the two referents of civility were still sides of the same coin. On the other hand, the advocacy of the exemplary standing of the experimental community as a model for the larger polity was also moored, I contend, to the question of the best cure and guidance of minds. Such advocacy was constructed in a polemical way, as was the defense of experimental inquiry: it included an attack on such forms of social disruption as “enthusiasm” or “dogmatism.” Both philosophical and religious dogmatism and enthusiasm were castigated for their threat to the peace of the polity, while also being refuted as untenable epistemological positions.²⁴ But the crux of the argument was, again, the reference to the mental distempers responsible for such unrest: social sedition was seen as a fruit of sedition in the mind. I would like therefore to challenge the social historical perspective, according to which “solutions to the problem of knowledge are solutions to the problem of social order.”²⁵ From the point of view of this study, it would be more accurate to say that for the early moderns the concern with the social dimensions of knowledge was rooted in a concern with the good ordering of the mind.

The book is structured in two main parts: the first traces the development of the themes I sketched above in the works of Francis Bacon and the Royal Society virtuosi (chapters 1 and 3) and illustrates the contours of the early modern cultura animi tradition in which these themes find their natural environment (chapter 2). I intend thus to build a case for the regimen dimension of the Baconian legacy of the Royal Society, by the side of the much more discussed methodological legacy, while also arguing for the inscription of this legacy in a wider culture of regimens. The Baconian, cultura animi, and virtuoso contributions to this approach to the problem of knowledge will subsequently be proposed as the relevant contexts for Robert Boyle’s and John Locke’s views on mind, reason, knowledge, and inquiry, which form the subject matter of the second part of the book. In chapters 4 and 5, I will deal with their conceptions of the limits and the perfecting of reason, with their descriptions of the distempers and virtues of the entire mind, and with their general prescriptions for the conduct of inquiry (Boyle) and for the regulation of assent (Locke). I will also use this perspective to challenge recent interpretations of Boyle’s views on “right reason” and of Locke’s “ethics of belief.” The last two chapters will look at the way the regimen idea informs their positions relative to the study of nature, with its natural philosophical and natural theological dimensions (chapter 6), and to the study of the entirety of “God’s works” and of Scripture (chapter 7).