Chapter XXXIV

Outline of European Philosophy in the Seventeenth Century, and the early part of the Eighteenth.

HAVING in the second volume of this work referred to the state of philosophy in relation to the Reformation, and the influence of that revolution in stimulating inquiry, an outline of the philosophic thought of Europe in the seventeenth century and the early part of the eighteenth will be an appropriate introduction to the subsequent history of Scottish philosophy. This will enable us to estimate the position and the claims of Scottish philosophy. Although the stream of European thought seems to run in several channels, these meet and influence each other at many points, and thus it is impossible to attain a just appreciation of the philosophy of one school or nation, without some general knowledge of the preceding and contemporaneous schools. So far as we know, there is nothing in the universe completely isolated, as all systems of philosophy are more or less related to each other, an entirely original idea is a rare phenomenon. But the field thus opened is exceedingly wide, and cannot be covered within the limits at my disposal. Therefore, it is to be distinctly understood that the aim of this outline is only to indicate the historical antecedents of the philosophy which subsequently arose in Scotland,​—a matter of such interest and importance as to justify the attempt to elucidate its historic significance and relation to preceding systems of thought.

After the series of struggles which issued in the Reformation, the human mind continued to strive after independence and freedom for more than a century. Most of the philosophers of the sixteenth century were scholars and men of research, rather than unfettered thinkers, and exerted themselves in collecting old manuscripts, translating, annotating, and lecturing on the writings of Aristotle and Plato, while some of them manifested a tendency to theosophy, and others to materialism and scepticism. The veneration for the opinions of antiquity and the shackles of authority were not easily broken, and many curious moves were made ere reason and common-sense attained sway. At length men began to enter more and more on independent investigation of nature and mind, and the problem of moral freedom.

When undeterred by fear, interest, or authority, the human mind is the most powerful and wonderful agent in the universe. This was anew exemplified in the rapid development of mathematical science, and the adoption of more accurate methods of investigation in the seventeenth century, and ever since the progress of discovery and of invention have been continuous. It is my task to indicate briefly some of the intense wrestlings of those strong and exalted minds who have contributed to weaken the power of traditional authority, to brave the force of ignorance, of biting scorn, and of death itself.

Giordano Bruno was one of the boldest thinkers in the sixteenth century. Born at Nola​—in the province of Naples​—in 1548, he entered the Order of the Dominicans, but relinquished it when he found his convictions in conflict with the doctrines of the Church. From that time onward he lived a wandering life, sometimes sojourning in France, in England, in Germany, and sometimes in other countries. But having returned to Venice, he fell into the hands of the Inquisition in 1592, and after suffering a long imprisonment in Rome, was tried for heresy, condemned, and burned in 1600.

He was a voluminous author, and wrote both in Italian and in Latin, but several of his treatises and tracts have been lost. He was gifted with a lively, warm, and exuberant imagination, which often impelled him to express his views in a poetical form, and thus sometimes he embodied his thoughts in a haze of clouds; at other times, however, he delivered his opinions with remarkable force and clearness. The elements of sympathy were excessively strong in him, and entered into his modes of thought and coloured all his philosophic efforts.

Bruno boldly essayed the reconstruction of the universe on the principle of the unity and universality of substance. In astronomy he embraced the Copernican view, and expounded it. According to him, the universe is infinite in time and in space, the solar system being merely one of innumerable worlds, of which God is the original and immanent cause. The attributes of God are power, wisdom, and love. The stars are not moved by a prime mover, but by the souls inherent in them. He rejected the idea of a dualism of matter and form, and identified the form or moving cause with the end and matter of all organic things; thus matter contains in herself the forms of all things, and brings them forth from her own bosom as the travailing mother expels her offspring. The elements of all that exists are the monads, which are a kind of points, not entirely unextended but spherical, and at once material and psychical. The soul is a monad, and it is never wholly without a body. God is the monad of monads, and He is the least, as all things are external to Him, and the greatest, because all things are in Him. God caused the worlds to spring out of Himself, not by an act of mere will, but by an inner necessity, moving freely and without any compulsion. The worlds being nature realised, and God nature working, thus God is present in all things. Each of the worlds is perfect in its kind, and there is no positive evil. All individual objects and living organisms are subject to change, but the universe remains in its entire perfection always like itself.

Bruno’s philosophy is full of the unity of being, which is the principle and end of all philosophy. God is the infinite All, the One, the prime and universal substance, of Himself, excluding all delimitation, and is not to be sought beyond the universe and the infinity of things. “Why think of any twofold substance, one corporal and another spiritual, when in sum these have but one essence and one root, for corporal substance, which manifests to us that which it involves, must be held a thing divine, parent of natural things; and if you think aright, you will find a divine essence in all things.” Yet he occasionally speaks of the supernatural. “The highest contemplation which transcends nature is impossible and null to him who is without belief, for we attain to this by supernatural, not by natural light; and such light they have not who hold all things to be corporal, and who do not seek Deity beyond the infinite world and the infinity of things, but within this and these.”¹

¹ The works in which Bruno chiefly developed his system were written in Italian, and of these the most important is the “Della Causa, Principio et Uno,” 1584, and in the same year appeared his “De l’Infinito Universo e Mondi.” A complete list of his writings is given in the second volume of Ueberweg’s History of Philosophy (page 469). In the present century the extant writings of Bruno have been carefully studied and ably expounded by several eminent writers and historians of philosophy.

It is obvious that Bruno’s philosophy is a form of pantheism, one of the most fascinating systems of thought ever propounded. The system originates from the difficulty of conceiving the action of the mind or thought except when conjoined with a body​—an insuperable and far-reaching difficulty, because there is no direct evidence anywhere of a mind operating without the conjunction of an organism. Hence the strong temptation to identify God and the universe in one idea or principle: that is, the universe is God, and God is the universe. This is a proposition which imparts no light, but it is, nevertheless, the fundamental idea of the system which figures the external substance of the universe as God, from which step by step all things have issued. Thus the prime idea of pantheism is a constant quantity or unity, although the developments of the system in the hands of different thinkers has assumed varied modifications in detail.

Bruno’s views have influenced the subsequent developments of several once famous philosophies. The noted Spinoza was indebted to him for several of his ideas, but the fundamental idea of pantheism is much older than the times of either of the two philosophers, as it stretches back to an early period in the evolution of human thought. Through Spinoza’s system German speculation has been largely influenced, and even some recent Scottish speculations bear distinct traces of a similar descent.

In France, during the latter part of the sixteenth century, the Jesuits were the most active instructors and disseminators of doctrine. Their schools were planted in all the chief towns of the nations. They encouraged the study of classical literature, and prepared the best text-books and lexicons. But they were a conservative and obstructive body, and wielded much influence over the intellect of the French. At the same time a form of ancient scepticism was revived in France by Montaigne. “In fact, Montaigne represents, if he did not inaugurate, the school of French satirists, who, standing between, as it were, Calvin and Rabelais, avoided both the coarseness and abandon of the latter, and the ascetic sternness and awkward pleasantries of the former.”¹ His sceptical views were more or less directed to the doctrines of Christianity, but from whatever motive or reason, he generally concluded with a recognition of the necessity of a revelation, and thus avoided a conflict with theology. In their ultimate result his reflections pointed to such conclusions as​—whether we are not a rather presumptuous class of beings in fancying that we have any higher faculties than those which are bestowed on other animals; whether the pursuit of truth may not be a pleasant amusement, rather than one that promises any result; whether religious forms may not be serviceable to the business of life, and therefore to be defended; whether they do not become mischievous when they lead to conflicts and to persecutions; whether a full recognition of our folly, ignorance, and uncertainty, might not save us from the dogmatism which produces such things? A similar strain of thought was indulged in by Charron and other French writers.²

¹ Van Laun’s History of French Literature, Volume II., pages 299‒300.

² Montaigne’s Essays. He states himself that Buchanan was one of his preceptors; and some traces of this Scotsman’s opinions may be found in the easy and self-satisfied Frenchman’s writings.

Another Frenchman, Gassendi, undertook the defence of Epicureanism, showing that it contained the best doctrine of physics, and also attempting to combine it with Christian theology. In physics, he embraced the theory of atomism; but he saw its weak side, namely, the difficulty of explaining the derivation of sensation out of atoms and space. He discussed this problem at great length, but admitted that there was something left unexplained. He was a voluminous writer.

Gassendi has been claimed by the historians of materialism as the chief reviver of systematic materialism in modern times. “We lay especial stress upon this, that Gassendi drew again into the light, adapted to the circumstances of the time, the fullest of the materialistic systems of antiquity, that of Epikuros.” Again, in reference to his historical qualifications, “Gassendi, whose thorough philological and historical training equipped him with a knowledge of all the systems of antiquity, embraced with a sure glance exactly what was best suited to modern times, and to the empirical tendency of his age. Atomism, by his means drawn again from antiquity, attained a lasting importance, however much it was gradually modified as it passed through the hands of later inquirers.” Once more, “Gassendi is, of all the most prominent representatives of materialism, the only one gifted with a historic sense, and that he has in an eminent degree. Even in his ‘Syntagma Philosophicum,’ he treats every subject at first historically, from all possible points of view.”¹

¹ Lange’s History of Materialism, Volume I., pages 253‒269. “The evolution and dissolution of things is nothing but the union and separation of atoms. When a piece of wood is burned, the flame, smell, and ashes, and so on, have already existed in their atoms, only in other conditions. All change is only movement in the constituents of a thing, and hence the simple substance cannot change, but only continues its movements in space.”​—Ibid., page 267.

Descartes was born in 1596 at La Haye, in the province of Touraine. At the age of eight he was sent to the Jesuit College of La Flèche, and placed under the instruction of the Jesuits, where he remained for eight years, and received his general education. He was a contemporary of Gassendi, and a more famous philosopher; each represented opposite systems and assailed one another, but neither of them influenced the other in his views. The two were contrasted in every way. Descartes always aimed at being original, and often was so, while Gassendi was more historical and dependent, and more learned, but he lacked the genius of his contemporary; both, however, were the fathers of great modern schools of thought. In philosophy and in scientific method, the real turning-point came in the early part of the seventeenth century, and in the great movement Descartes holds a foremost place, entitling him to some account, however brief, in this exposition.

Descartes was eminent both as a philosopher and as a mathematician; in the latter department of science he takes a position among the great mathematicians of the seventeenth century. In algebra he was the first to place the doctrine of powers on a clear basis, freeing it from its dependence on geometry, which prevented its proper expansion; while, by introducing the index notation, he gave the science a new and potent means of expression. He also advanced the treatment of negative quantities, and first brought into prominence the equal significance of the negative roots, and for determining a limit to their number, gave the rule which still bears his name. But his fame as a mathematician rests chiefly on his application of algebra for “the expression of continuously varying quantity.” By this invention he may be considered as the founder of analytic geometry, or the algebraic treatment of curves, and he is well entitled to a place in the history of the mathematical achievements which ultimately led to the discovery of the Differential Calculus.¹

¹ Descartes, by J. P. Mahaffy, pages 207‒209, 1880. It was a curious feature in the character of Descartes that he designedly so composed his Essay on Geometry as to be very difficult, “and only understood by mathematicians of a high order. He omitted what was obvious, and in the solving of problems only gave the means of solution, and not each step in the demonstrations. He even chuckles in his letters at the number of professed mathematicians who were unable to follow his arguments, and tells us that not a single professor in the new universities of Holland was able to open his mouth upon the subject.”

In physics, his achievements were mainly in the science of optics. He at least contributed to the discovery and statement of the law of refraction, though his independent discovery of this law has been keenly disputed. He explained the colours of the rainbow, and it appears that he originated the undulatory theory of light. But his positive contributions to science were not the most important elements of his philosophy, as its influence sprang more from its spirit and method, which were the expression of his own acute and determined mind.

Descartes’ philosophy is fundamentally a deductive system, based on mathematical principles, but in its development it assumed the form of a methodical and rather dogmatic rationalism. Although the initial steps of his method are founded in doubt, this is not the most distinctive feature of his philosophy. His doubt, at the threshold, merely gave him the data of his own thought and existence, and enabled him to assert a right to discard authority, and to erect a standard independent of all former times and thinkers. In the development of his system he attempted to find the ultimate principle in the order of synthesis, which would afford the conditions of philosophy and of science, or that something which is the highest of all. This principle must be self-evident, and Descartes found it in his famous “cogito ergo sum;” then he struggled hard and determinedly to connect this with the idea of God, and thus associating the criterion of truth with the perception of Deity, makes the one in a sense dependent on the other. In his first published work, which appeared in 1637, and marks an epoch in the history of human thought, he enunciated four rules of method in the following order:​—“1. Never to accept anything as true which was not clearly known to be such; that is, carefully to avoid precipitancy and prejudice, and to include nothing more in my judgment than what was presented to my mind so clearly and distinctly as to exclude all ground of doubt. 2. To divide each of the difficulties into as many parts as possible, and as might be necessary for its adequate solution. 3. To conduct my thoughts in order, by commencing with objects, the simplest and easiest kind to know, that I might ascend by degrees, as it were, step by step, to the knowledge of the more complex; assigning in thought a definite order even to objects which in their own nature do not stand in a relation of antecedence and sequence. 4. In every case to make enumerations so complete, and reviews so general, that I might be assured that nothing was omitted.”¹ This work was entitled, “Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting the Reason and Seeking Truth in the Sciences; also the Dioptrics, the Meteors, and the Geometry, which are Essays in this Method.” Thus Descartes introduced his Method to the world with the recommendation of his own discoveries in mathematics, and with the solution of problems which were then beyond the reach of ordinary minds, as was indicated in the last note. The three essays presented as applications of his Method have long been superseded or absorbed in later works, but the discourse on Method will always be valuable. The volume containing the whole was written in French, which in that day was itself a bold innovation.

¹ Discourse on Method, Part II.

The Discourse on Method though only a short treatise, which might be read at a single sitting, nevertheless was a memorable proclamation against the ages of inert formalism, and the thraldom of the human mind. It contains details relating to the formation of his opinions, and the beginning of the development of his system. It is a book of absorbing interest, and should be carefully read by every student of philosophy. It is divided into six parts, which treat of the following topics:​—1. Various considerations touching the Sciences. 2. The principal rules of the author’s method, the heads of which I have stated above. 3. Some rules of morals deduced from this method. 4. His reasonings establishing the existence of God and of the human soul. 5. The order of the questions in physics, the explanation of the motion of the heart and of some other difficulties, as also the difference between the soul of man and that of the brutes. 6. What he believes to be requisite in order to greater advancement in the investigation of nature than has yet been made, with the reasons that have induced him to write. I had transcribed several passages for quotation, but space forbids their insertion; and as the work is now easily accessible to English readers, long quotations are unnecessary. But to lighten the exposition, I may briefly dispose of some of his peculiar views touching the organisation of man and the lower animals.

He adopted a mechanical theory of the universe, attributing to matter only pressure and impulsion, by which to explain all material phenomena. Then developing his theory in accounting for life, plants, and animals, he ultimately arrived at the conclusion that the functions and actions of animals and living organisms are purely the result of heat and motion, as mechanically as the going of a clock is the result of cog-wheels and pulleys. Thus man so far as his body is concerned, is merely an automaton, while all the lower animals are automatons, mere machines, constructed by the Deity according to the general laws which He has impressed upon matter: they have no rational soul, as they use no language, or perform any actions which cannot be proved to be the direct result of their internal organism.

Touching the origin of the human soul, he followed the very old notion of supposing that God infused a soul into every human being at the first moment of its existence, and thus the soul was radically distinct from the body, though closely united with it. As an unextended entity, however, the soul can be in contact with the body only at one point, which is the brain, or more precisely, in the single centre of the mass, the conarium, or pineal gland. He says, “Although the human soul is united to the whole body, it has, nevertheless, its principal seat in the brain, where alone it not only understands and imagines, but also perceives, and this by the medium of the nerves, which are extended like threads from the brain to all the other members, with which they are so connected that we can hardly touch any one of them without moving the extremities of those nerves which are collected in the brain round the seat of the soul.” Again, “It is clearly established, however, that the soul does not perceive in so far as it is in each member of the body, but only so far as it is in the brain, when the nerves by their movements convey to it the diverse actions of external objects that touch the parts of the body in which they are inserted.”¹

¹ Principles of Philosophy, IV., 189, 196.

The Discourse on Method contained in a condensed form the principles and chief characteristics of Descartes’ system, and it was followed by his “Meditations,” which were published in 1641. As the subject was so full of difficulties, and thus liable to much misunderstanding and misconception, he had manuscript copies of his “Meditations,” submitted for criticism to some of the most learned men and philosophers of the time, among whom were Gassendi, Arnauld, Hobbes, and others. A summary of their objections, with his replies, was published, and many of their criticisms were able and just. But Descartes so firmly believed in his own system, and was so convinced that he saw it all clearly and distinctly, that he could hardly be moved to change any of his settled ideas. He simply wanted these learned men’s objections, that he might refute them, and thus more effectually establish the certainty of his own system in other minds. To the Catholic theologians only, for the sake of their patronage and peace, he conceded some trifling points.

The Meditations are an expansion of the metaphysics of his Discourse on Method, and the work embraced six meditations, which treat on the following subjects: “Of the Things of which we may Doubt; of the Nature of the Human Mind, and that it is more easily known than the body; of God, that He Exists; of Truth and Error; of the Essence of Material Things, and of God; of the Existence of Material Things, and of the real distinction between the mind and body of man.” In his preface to these Meditations he says: “Now that I have once, in some measure, made proof of the opinions of men regarding my work, I again undertake to treat of God and the human soul, and at the same time to discuss the principles of the entire First Philosophy, without, however, expecting any commendation from the crowd for my endeavours, or a wide circle of readers. On the contrary, I would advise none to read this work unless such as are able and willing to meditate with me in earnest, to detach their minds from commerce with the senses, and likewise to deliver themselves from prejudice; and individuals of this character are, as I well know, remarkably rare. But with regard to those who, without caring to comprehend the order and connection of the reasonings, shall study only detached clauses for the purpose of small but noisy criticism, as is the custom with many, I may say that such persons will not profit greatly by the reading of this treatise; and although, perhaps, they may find opportunity for cavilling in several places, they will yet hardly start any pressing objections, or such as shall be deserving of reply.”

Thus the Meditations were intended to be a discussion on the first or fundamental principles of philosophy, but their main drift is to prove that the knowledge of God and of the mind is the most certain of all things. This was attempted in two ways: first, by showing the uncertainty of all our knowledge of bodies, and then by presenting demonstrations of our own existence as thinking beings, and of the existence of the Deity. The first Meditation expounded the grounds on which we may doubt of all things, and especially of all material objects. After showing the uncertainty of all things, save some points in arithmetic and geometry, he affirmed his own strong belief in the existence of an all-powerful God, who created him such as he was, and then says: “If, however, it were repugnant to the goodness of God to have created me subject to constant deception, it would seem likewise to be contrary to his goodness to allow me to be occasionally deceived, and yet it is clear that this is permitted. Some, indeed, might perhaps be found who would be disposed rather to deny the existence of a Being so powerful than to believe that there is nothing certain. But let us for the present refrain from opposing this opinion, and grant that all which is here said of God is fabulous, nevertheless, in whatever way it may be supposed that I reached the state in which I exist, whether by fate, or chance, or by an endless series of antecedents and consequents, or by any other means, it is clear (since to be deceived and to err is a certain defect) that the probability of my being so imperfect as to be the constant victim of deception, will be increased exactly in proportion as the power possessed by the cause, to which they assign my origin, is lessened. To these reasonings I have assuredly nothing to reply, but am constrained at last to avow that there is nothing of all that I formerly believed to be true of which it is impossible to doubt.” Having now disposed so far of all material objects, in the second, he repeats his argument affirming from the fact of doubt, our own existence as doubting beings. “But what, then, am I? A thinking thing, it has been said. But what is a thinking thing? It is a thing that doubts, understands, affirms, denies, wills, refuses, that imagines also, and perceives. Assuredly it is not little, if all these properties belong to my nature. But why should they not belong to it? Am I not that very being who now doubts of almost everything, who, for all that, understands and conceives certain things, who affirms one alone as true, and denies the others, who desires to know more of them, and does not wish to be deceived”; and so on in the same line of argument. He next showed that external objects can only be known when they become or are made the objects of thought, and then makes a vigorous effort showing that mind itself is more clearly known than any or all the objects of the external world. “But, finally, what shall I say of the mind itself, that is, of myself? for as yet I do not admit that I am anything but mind. What, then? I who seem to possess so distinct an apprehension of the piece of wax,​—do I not know myself, both with greater truth and certitude, and also much more distinctly and clearly? For if I judge that the wax exists because I see it, it assuredly follows, much more evidently, that I myself am or exist, for the same reason, it is possible that what I see may not in truth be wax, and that I do not even possess eyes with which to see anything; but it cannot be that when I see, or, which comes to the same thing, when I think I see, I myself who think am nothing. So, likewise, if I judge that the wax exists because I touch it, it will still also follow that I am, and if I determine that my imagination, or any other cause, whatever it be, persuades me of the existence of the wax, I will still draw the same conclusion. And what is here remarked of the piece of wax is applicable to all the other things that are external to me.”

In the third Meditation he unfolded his chief argument for the existence of God. He insisted that as the idea of God in the human mind is innate, God himself is its cause. And he described God thus:​—“By the name of God, I understand a substance infinite, eternal, immutable, independent, all-knowing, all-powerful, and by which I myself, and every other thing that exists, if any such there be, were created.” Here he associates God, or the idea of God, with his own criterion of truth. In the fourth, he proceeded to show that all which we clearly and distinctly perceive must be true, and then explained the nature of intellectual error. Referring to the will as the cause of error, he says: “I have no reason to complain because God has given me a will more ample than my understanding, since, as the will consists only of a single element, and that indivisible, it would appear that this faculty is of such a nature that nothing could be taken from it without destroying it; and certainly, the more extensive it is, the more cause I have to thank the goodness of Him who bestowed it upon me.... For as often as I so restrain my will within the limits of my knowledge, that it forms no judgment except regarding objects which are clearly and distinctly represented to it by the understanding, I can never be deceived, because every clear and distinct conception is doubtless something, and as such cannot owe its origin to nothing, but must of necessity have God for its author​—God, I say, who, as supremely perfect, cannot, without a contradiction, be the cause of any error, and consequently it is necessary to conclude that every such conception or judgment is true.”

He began the fifth Meditation by expounding the essence of material things, giving some examples from quantity and form. And he asserted that the figure of a triangle ♦and other mathematical figures possess a certain determinate form, or essence, which is immutable and eternal; and again repeated that whatever is clearly and distinctly perceived is true, truth being identical with existence. He then proceeded to demonstrate in a somewhat new form his arguments for proving the existence of God, and making all knowledge dependent upon this. “But I remark further that the certainty of all other truths is so absolutely dependent on it, that without this knowledge it is impossible ever to know anything perfectly.... And thus I very clearly see that the certainty and truth of all science depends on the knowledge alone of the true God, inasmuch that, before I knew him, I could have no perfect knowledge of any other thing. And now that I know him, I possess the means of acquiring a perfect knowledge regarding innumerable matters, as well relating to God himself and other intellectual objects as to corporeal nature.” In the sixth he explained the difference between imagination and pure intellection; reviewed the errors of the senses, pointing out the means of avoiding them, the distinct difference of the mind and the body, and their relation to each other, and then adduces the evidence from which the existence of the external world may be inferred, and all with the aim of showing that our knowledge of external objects is not so clear and distinct as the knowledge which we have of our own minds and of God. Thus far I have attempted to explain Descartes’ own efforts to develop his philosophy.

But it is in his work entitled The Principles of Philosophy, written in Latin, and published in 1644, that he developed his theories and ideas systematically, and gave the most complete exposition and representation of his system.¹ In this work he expounded his philosophy synthetically. It is divided into four parts, which treat consecutively of the principles of human knowledge, of the principles of material things, of the visible world, and of the earth. The first part contains an orderly summary of his metaphysical views, repeating what had been stated in the Discourse and the Meditations, and adding some new elucidations. And it is chiefly to this part that I must direct attention, as being most consonant to the aim of this chapter.

¹ In a long preface to the French translation of his Principles of Philosophy, which appeared in 1647, Descartes enters at some length on several topics of an interesting character, which are still well worth reading.

But not to leave his physics altogether unnoticed, the following is a brief indication of his physical theory. Basing his ideas on mathematics, he boldly asserted that extension is an eternal attribute of matter, and that to us it is the very essence of matter. “Give me extension and motion,” he exclaims, “and I will construct the universe.” Matter is infinite or unlimited in space or time, and it is everywhere identical with extension, all differences of quality being simply produced by a different mechanical composition, and a difference of motion in its parts.

In the second part of his Principles, he reduces all the phenomena of nature to variations of size, figure, and motion, in the minute particles of a homogeneous matter, there being but one kind of matter in the whole universe. He gave special laws of motion, which are now superseded. In the third part he treated on the theory of the solar system, and on the nature and origin of the fixed stars, and assuming three elements of various density in degree, explained the whole universe by the theory of vortices or of circular motion. In the fourth part he treated of the earth and its formation, of water, fire, and other matters.

“When he gives a priori explanations of all manner of phenomena in heaven and in earth, deduced from the motion of diverse particles, he confesses that the plurality of causes which may produce the same effect is his great difficulty. He feels that endless time and outlay is required to verify his theories by crucial experiments, and till that has been done, he can offer nothing but the satisfactoriness and simplicity of the explanation as a guarantee of its truth. Once, indeed, he advances the statement that the veracity of the Deity would come into question if he permitted us to be deceived in following such strict and sober demonstrations. But in general the distinction of purely mathematical and physical proof is acknowledged by Descartes, and he confesses the possibility, though he never admits the fact, that he might be mistaken.”¹

¹ Descartes, by J. W. Mahaffy, page 163.

The most notable peculiarities of Descartes’ metaphysics are his conception of God and his definition of Substance. He says that in the concept of God is comprised absolutely necessary and external existence, while our concept of other things merely includes contingent existence. God is also omniscient, all-powerful, absolutely perfect, absolutely veracious, and the source of all light, “so that it is plainly repugnant for him to deceive us.”¹ He exerted his great powers to make this clear, and if his premisses were true, the conclusions of course would follow, but his assumption of an innate idea of God in the human mind of such a character as he assigned to it, is nowhere to be found save among a small section of the most cultivated of the race. Besides it is very questionable if this idea of God be obtained at all in the way which he maintained. Then he defined substance thus: “By substance we can conceive nothing else than a thing which exists in such a way as to stand in need of nothing beyond itself in order to its existence. And, in truth, there can be conceived but one substance which is absolutely independent, and that is God.” We perceive that all other things can exist only by the concourse of God; and, accordingly, the term substance does not apply to God and the creatures in the same sense, and no meaning of this word can be distinctly understood which is common to God and them. Created substances, however, of all kinds may be conceived as things existing by the concourse of God, but existence by itself is not observed by us. Every substance has one principal attribute, as thinking of the mind, extension of the body. Thus extension in length, breadth, and depth constitutes the nature of corporeal substance, and thought the nature of thinking substance. For everything else that can be attributed to body presupposes extension, and is only some mode of an extended thing, just as all the properties which we discover in the mind are only different modes of thinking.²

¹ Principles of Philosophy, I. 22, 23, 29.

² Principles of Philosophy, I., 51, 52, 53.

His doctrine of the concourse of God is thus explained: “Because I was in existence a short time ago, it does not follow that I must now exist, unless in this moment some cause create me anew as it were, that is, conserve me. In truth, it is perfectly clear and evident to all who attentively consider the nature of duration, that the conservation of a substance, in each moment of its duration, requires the same power and act that would be necessary to create it, supposing it were not yet in existence; so that it is manifestly a dictate of the natural light that conservation and creation differ merely in respect of our mode of thinking and not in reality.” Again, “From the fact that we now are, it does not necessarily follow that we shall be a moment afterwards, unless some cause, namely, that which first created us, shall, as it were, continually recreate us, that is, conserve us. For we easily understand that there is no power in us by which we can conserve ourselves, and that the being who has so much power as to conserve us out of himself, must also by so much the greater reason conserve himself, or rather stand in need of being conserved by no one whatever, and, in fine, be God.”¹

¹ Meditation, III.; Principles of Philosophy, I., 21.

It is pretty evident that the above view of substance contained an element of pantheism. Since that substance which exists entirely in itself and absolutely independent of aught beyond itself, is declared to be God; and since there is only one kind of matter in the universe, the sum and essence of substance being included in extension, what is God but the universe. Hence Spinoza adopted this Cartesian conception, and placed it at the summit of his pantheistic system of the universe; while Descartes’ doctrine of conservation or continuous creation seems to have suggested to his distinguished follower Geulinx the doctrine of Occasional Causes; and Malebranche also made a modification on the former doctrine in his own theory of seeing all things in God, who is the place of spirits.¹ In truth, Descartes’ theory of the relation of body and mind, even when supported by divine conservation, was unsatisfactory and scarcely conceivable.

¹ Geulinx’s Commentaries on Descartes’ Principles of Philosophy; Malebranche’s De la Recherche, etc.

Touching his first principle, and the criterion of truth, which are involved in each other, he said:​—“I think, therefore, I am, and this proposition is of all others the first and most certain which occurs to one philosophising orderly.” Thus knowledge must begin with a definite act of a conscious being, self-revealed in the conscious act. He did not, indeed, analyse the conditions of the object of which the self-conscious being takes notice, or trace how the conscious act has originated. Nevertheless, it was an important step towards placing investigation on the true basis of conscious experience; though, of course, on the subjective and notional side, it has often been carried to extremes, and was so in the end by Descartes himself. He endeavoured to deduce a criterion of truth from his first certain proposition, and this he founded on clearness and distinctness of knowledge. This test he defined in these words:​—“I call that clear which is present and manifest to the mind giving attention to it, just as we are said clearly to see objects when, being present to the eye looking on, they stimulate it with sufficient force, and it is disposed to regard them; but the distinct is that which is so precise and different from all other objects as to comprehend in itself only what is clear.” As already stated, he called in the veracity of God to support this criterion of truth.¹ But it is vague and comparatively useless in its application, since it must be admitted that the clearness and distinctness of an idea, a conviction, or an opinion, in the mind of the person holding them, is not always a guarantee of their truth; although it is a very good reason for such opinions and ideas being strongly asserted and firmly maintained.

¹ Principles of Philosophy, I., 45, IV., 206; Meditations, IV.

Descartes’ metaphysics does not reach the external world by a distinct perception, but by an indirect or mediate inference. First, he resolved to prove his own existence as a thinking being, and then deduced the existence of God from the fact that thinking beings exist who possess the idea of him, before the external world came into view at all. He presented his demonstration of God’s existence under three forms, which, however, are all essentially founded on the idea that he himself had of God; and they are neither wholly new nor at all satisfactory, and raised a storm of controversy which raged long and widely.

Turning to Descartes’ psychology, which is not separately or exhaustively treated in his writings, and on some points there is a little difficulty in ascertaining his views. He called the mind a thinking substance or thinking thing; the word thought meant all that we are immediately conscious of; and, accordingly, not only to understand, to will, to imagine, but even to perceive, have here the same meaning as thinking. There are only two modes of thinking of which we are conscious, namely, the perception or operation of the understanding, and volition or the operation of the will; thus to perceive through the senses, to imagine, and to conceive purely mental objects, are only different modes of perceiving; but to desire, to be averse from, to affirm, to deny, to doubt, are different modes of willing.¹

¹ Principles of Philosophy, I., 9, 32. He says that the simplest self-evident notions are only obscured by logical definitions, as these are not to be reckoned among the cognitions acquired by study, but as born with us. Ibid., 10.

The word perception has a wider meaning in the writings of Descartes and his followers than in the philosophic literature of the present time. With them perception was generally employed to indicate an act of mind by which we apprehended any mental object, as distinguished from an affirmation or judgment concerning it; and thus in their writings perception is nearly equivalent to cognition. All acts of memory, of imagination, of sense, and of pure intellect, are merely modes of perceiving, as in each we only know as being conscious of the object of the act.

But here we come face to face with the relation of the mind to the objects of its knowledge, which is the crucial problem in philosophy and in psychology. As already implicitly stated above, according to Descartes, the mind has no immediate perception of external objects or of the material world. On the principles of his theory, the mind can have no immediate knowledge of anything beyond its own modifications. Although the mind is only conscious of its own modifications or ideas, still it is not solely modified by its own energy, and in many instances it is affected by the antecedent affections of the body, owing to its junction therewith. Thus some of the modifications of the mind are affections originating from the body, and mainly relative to it; others, though not quite independent of corporeal contact, must be more especially considered as affections of the mind; while others are in themselves purely or absolutely intellectual energies in their origin and in their continuance. The point of alliance of the mind with the body is the brain, at this point all organic changes from external causes terminate, and through these the mind is, owing to the nature of its junction, hyperphysically determined to a relative modification. There also all corporeal movements, at the call of the will, commence, and thus produce the bodily movement answering to the volition of the mind. The mind only perceives objects as its seat in the brain, and not at the point of affection in the organs.¹

¹ Principles of Philosophy, I., 48, 53; III., 2, 3; IV., 189, 196‒198. Hamilton’s Reid, note N.

Thus we have only a mediate perception of an external object: a representation of the object is all that is known to us, as it is that only which comes within the seat of the conscious mind. This mental representation of the external object is called an idea.¹ The organic movement at the point of junction in the brain may also metaphorically be called an impression, as it is the result of an external impulse, though at the same time it has no natural resemblance to the external object; it may be termed an image, as in some way suggesting the representation to the mind; or it may be named a corporeal species, though nothing similar to itself is transmitted from the object; or it may be styled an idea, though it is not the immediate object of the mind. If any one say that this theory of mediate perception retains no evidence of the reality of an external world consistent with the representations of our own minds, Descartes replies, that in consequence of our early and deep-rooted prejudices we are led to attribute to the immediate objects of our perceptions an external and chief, instead of internal and vicarious, existence. “Hence arose the belief that there was more substance or body in rocks and metals than in water or air, because the mind perceived in them more hardness and weight. Moreover, the air was thought to be merely nothing so long as we experienced no agitation of it by the wind, or did not feel it hot or cold. And because the stars gave hardly more light than the slender flames of candles, we supposed that each star was but of this size. Again, since the mind did not perceive that the earth moved on its axis, or that its superficies was curved like that of a globe, it was on that account more ready to judge the earth immovable and its surface flat.” Of course, he also appeals to the veracity of the ♦Deity.²

¹ But whether his idea is to be considered as having an existence independent of the mind or not, was a disputed point among Descartes’ followers.

² Principles of Philosophy, I., 66‒72.

Descartes used the term idea to denote both mental objects and mental acts, applying it indifferently to a material or a mental modification, in relation to sense and imagination. Hence throughout his writings this term appears under many relations and many different meanings. It is often employed as an object of consciousness, as a representative thought; while sometimes an objective and sometimes a subjective meaning is attached to it, and this in all degrees and relations of mind itself and its objects.

Touching his doctrine of innate ideas, which is a necessary part of his theory of body and mind, the hyperphysical element of his system, which he seems to have deemed requisite to cover and assist the purely mathematical and mechanical principles upon which his philosophy is essentially founded. By innate ideas he meant mental modifications existing in the mind prior to all experience, and that they come into consciousness whenever the mind begins to think and reflect. To the class of innate modifications belong the ideas of God, of substance, of unity, and others. These ideas might remain long inactive in the mind, but they always exist in it potentially. And it is in relation to these ideas that the veracity of the Deity is all-important, because a malign Creator could have made us believe innate falsehoods.¹

¹ “With respect to ideas, some of them appear to me to be innate.” Meditations III. “The mind first of all discovers within itself the ideas of many things ... the mind also discovers certain common notions out of which it frames various demonstrations that carry conviction to such a degree as to render doubt of their truth impossible, so long as we give attention to them. For example, the mind has within itself ideas of numbers and figures; and it has also among its common notions the principle that if equals be added to equals the whole will be equal, and the like.”​—Principles of Philosophy, I., 13.

“In the first place, I discover that it is impossible for God ever to deceive me, for in all fraud and deceit there is some imperfection: and although it may seem that the ability to deceive is a mark of subtlety or power, yet the will testifies without doubt of malice and weakness; and such, accordingly, cannot be found in God. In the next place, I am conscious that I possess a certain faculty of judging or discerning truth from error, which I doubtless received from God, along with whatever else is mine; and since it is impossible that he should will to deceive me, it is likewise certain that he has not given me a faculty that will ever lead me into error, provided I use it aright.”​—Meditations IV.

His exposition of the senses, or sensation, is comparatively brief, but interesting and important.

In his treatise on the passions, he admitted six primitive passions or emotions, namely, admiration, love, hate, desire, joy, and sadness. From these he sought to deduce all the other passions and emotions, but his exposition is mainly an echo of the views of Aristotle. He, however, stated that the most perfect of all emotions is intellectual love to God.

Touching ethics, Descartes expressly declined to produce a formal work, on the ground that it would be liable to violent and unfair criticism from his opponents; for a similar reason he refrained entirely from treating of religion or of faith, preferring, as he says, to adhere to the faith, and to submit to the authority of the Roman Catholic Church, in which he had been educated from childhood. Yet occasionally in his writings he touches on moral subjects, and in his letters on the sovereign good, in his criticism of Seneca, and in his treatise on the passions, he has indicated his ethical views. But he contributed nothing specially original in this department, as he approached the subject from the ancient standpoint, not from the modern, and he does not treat the question of the moral faculty, or moral obligation. Still his views, so far as they go, are generally wise and just.

But, as already indicated, the influence of Descartes did not quite depend on the positive results of his philosophy. The emphatic doubt at the threshold of his system was, in my opinion, the most influential element in his philosophy. He had many disciples and many opponents, while theologians generally were his bitterest enemies. Nevertheless, Cartesianism spread in France and held its ground till about the middle of the eighteenth century; while the influence of his system was felt in other countries of Europe, especially in Holland. As for the general tendency of his system in subsequent speculation and in literature, it appeared in idealism, rationalism, and especially in scepticism and nihilism.

The philosopher whose thought I have now to explain, Benedict Spinoza, is an interesting character, sprung from a remarkable race. He was born at Amsterdam, in November, 1632, a Jew by birth, and was carefully educated in the Jewish religion and in the Hebrew language and literature. But his energy of mind soon made him an object of suspicion amongst his brethren, and in his twenty-fourth year he was excommunicated, according to the Jewish ritual, from the Synagogue, and from all intercourse with any of the tribes of Israel.¹ He earned his livelihood by the art of grinding and polishing lenses for optical instruments, a kind of work at which he became very skilful. He was thus able to support himself in comparative ease and independence, as his wants were few, and his mode of life extremely simple.

¹ Spinoza, His Life and Philosophy, by F. Pollock, 1880. The chief authority for the life of Spinoza is John Colerus, a minister of the Lutheran Church, at the Hague, who first published his account of Spinoza in the Dutch language, in 1705, and it appeared in French in 1706 and 1733.

As he adopted a mathematical method, his system is deductive, and the chief characteristics of his philosophy may be stated briefly as follows. His fundamental conception is the unity of substance, and by this he meant that which is in itself and is conceived by itself. There is but one substance in the universe with infinite attributes, and that is God. Two only of the attributes of this substance are cognisable by man, namely, thought and extension: there is no extended substance really distinct from thinking substance. All individual existence is included among the changing modes of these attributes, but such existence does not belong to God, else he would be finite, and not absolute, since all determination is negation. God is the immanent cause of all things, and operates according to the inner necessity of his nature, and in this consists his freedom. But he produces all finite effects only indirectly by finite causes, and nowhere proceeds with a view to ends, and there is no such thing as human freedom apart from causality. All that can be said is, that one mode of extension merely acts upon another mode of extension, and one mode of thought upon another mode of thought, and so on continually throughout the universe. Between thought and extension, on the other hand, there is a complete agreement, as the order of thought is identical with the order and connection of things, each thought in every case being merely the idea of the corresponding mode of extension. Our ideas vary in clearness and in value from the confused representations of the imagination to the adequate knowledge of the intellect, which conceives all particulars from the standpoint of the whole which contains them, and comprehends all things under the form of eternity, and as necessary. From those confused mental representations which cannot rise above the finite, spring passions and the bondage of the will, while intellectual knowledge may assume the form of pure love to God, in which our happiness and freedom consist.¹

¹ Compare Ueberweg’s History of Philosophy, Volume II., page 55, 1874.

Spinoza’s first published work was an exposition of the principles of Descartes’ philosophy, which appeared in 1663. It contained the exposition of two parts of Descartes’ Principles, and a fragment of a third part, with an appendix of “Metaphysical Reflections.” He adopted the geometric method of statement and argument, and so far as he went, gave a pretty fair account of Descartes’ system. His next work was entitled “Tractatus Theologico-politicus,” 1670. It is an elaborate and able defence of freedom of thought and speech in matters of religion. His final contention was, that “in a free state it should be lawful for every man to think what he will and to speak what he thinks.” In the development of his own thoughts, Spinoza seems to have been much influenced by his study of Maimonides, yet the two philosophers held different views touching the Jewish Scriptures; Spinoza adopting a theory which permitted him to treat the Bible historically and critically, while the earlier philosopher maintained that the Law was given to the Jews as a revelation of the highest truths. He was the author of several other treatises, but his chief work is his Ethics.

Spinoza’s Ethics was not published till after his death, but it was written several years before; and he seems to have gradually elaborated it with much care. This work contains the fullest exposition of his system, and is divided into five parts, which treat respectively of God, of the nature and principle of the mind, of the source and nature of the affections, of human slavery or the power of the passions, and of human freedom or the power of the intellect. It is in this treatise that he developed his leading idea of substance and other subjects. But it is not at all an attractive work. The method of demonstration by definitions, axioms, propositions, postulates, corollaries, and scholia, is tedious and difficult to follow to the last degree. However, it is requisite to give some specimens of his method and form of thought.

In the first part of the Ethics, touching God, the following definitions are stated at the beginning:​—“1. By self-caused I understand that whose essence involves existence, or that which cannot be conceived as non-existing. 2. A thing is called finite in its kind which can be limited by another of the same nature. 3. By substance I understand that which is self-contained and is conceived by itself. 4. By attribute I understand that which the mind perceives in substance as constituting its essence. 5. By mode I understand the affections of substance, or that which is in something else, through which it is apprehended. 6. By God I understand a Being absolutely infinite, a substance consisting of infinite attributes, each expressing an eternal and infinite essence. 7. A thing is called free which by the sole necessity of its own nature is determined to action by itself alone, but constrained, if it is determined by something else, to exist and to act in a fixed manner. 8. By eternity I understand existence itself, so far as it is conceived to follow necessarily from the definition of an eternal thing.” The first definition is vague, for strictly speaking, the term self-caused is an irrational conception; because if anything is said to cause itself, it is assumed that it exists before itself, in order that it may cause itself. But Spinoza intended the definition to express the dependence of existence on essence; still the latter cannot cause the former, unless it already exists itself, thus what was to be caused already existed before being caused. The definition might have been put in this form: the first cause in the universe is self-existent and eternal and immutable in its essence. Others of his definitions involve inconsistencies, but it is unnecessary to go over them.

The axioms are next stated thus:​—“1. All that is, is either in itself, or in some other than itself. 2. That which cannot be conceived by another thing, must be conceived by itself. 3. From a determinate cause an effect must follow; without such a cause no effect can follow. 4. Knowledge of an effect depends on the knowledge of the cause and involves the same. 5. Things that have nothing in common cannot explain each other. 6. A true idea must agree with its object. 7. Everything that can be conceived as not existing, its essence does not involve existence.”

From these definitions and axioms, he proceeded in a series of propositions to develop his ideas of God and the universe. These propositions extend to thirty-six, and he attempted throughout to give them the form and the reality of demonstrations.

His main conclusions in this part of the Ethics are these:​—“Besides God, no substance can exist or be conceived to exist. Whatever is, is in God, and nothing can be, nor can anything be conceived to be, without God.” He demonstrated this at some length, using geometrical illustrations, and then enunciated that “God acts by the sole laws of his own nature, and by constraint of nothing. God is the immanent indwelling, not the outside, cause of all things. God and all his attributes are eternal. The existence and the essence of God are one and the same thing. All that follows from the absolute nature of any attribute of God must have existed from eternity. God is not only the efficient cause of the existence of things, but also their essence. The thing that is determined to effect anything is necessarily so determined by God, and that which is not determined by God cannot determine itself to act, and therefore ♦the thing that is determined by God to do anything cannot render itself undetermined. The individual finite thing that has determinate existence cannot be determined to exist and act, unless it be itself determined to exist and act by another cause, which is also finite and possessed of determinate existence, and this cause again can neither exist nor be determined to act save by another cause, which is also finite and has a determinate existence, and this yet again by another, and so on to infinity. In the nature of things there is no contingency; as all things are determined by the necessity of the Divine nature to exist and to act in a definite manner.”

“Understanding, whether as finite or infinite, must comprehend the attributes and the affections of God, and nothing else. Will cannot be called a free cause, but a necessary cause only. Things could have been produced by God in no other order than as they have been produced. Nothing exists from the nature of which some effect does not follow.” These are some of the principal ideas which Spinoza essayed to demonstrate; but at the end of this part of his work, he was aware that many prejudices existed among mankind, which would prevent them from adopting his views; and therefore he deemed it worth his trouble to examine such prejudices more fully in an appendix, in which he assailed the doctrine of final causes, and exerted his power of sarcasm to extinguish it.

He began the second part of his Ethics, on the nature and origin of the mind, as before, with definitions and axioms; and then proceeded to demonstrate his views in a series of propositions. The first four propositions are couched in the following terms:​—“Thought is an attribute of God, or God is a thinking entity. Extension is an attribute of God, or God is an extended being. The idea of his own essence, as all things that necessarily follow from it, necessarily exist in God. The idea of God whence infinities follow in infinite modes can only be single.” The idea of an individual thing existing in act is considered as effected by another idea of an individual thing existing in act, of which God is also the cause, in so far as he is effected by a third idea existing in act, and so on to infinity; the order and chain of ideas and causes being the same throughout the universe.

“The human mind does not know the human body in itself, nor does it know that the body exists except through the ideas of the affections by which the body is influenced. There is also present in God an idea or consciousness of the human mind, and this follows in the same way, and is referred to God in the same manner, as the idea of consciousness of the human body. This idea of the mind is united with the mind in the same way as the mind itself is united with the body. The mind not only perceives the affections of the body, but the ideas of these affections also. The mind has no consciousness of itself, save in so far as it perceives ideas of the affections of the body. The human mind involves no adequate knowledge of the parts composing the human body. The idea of each affection of the human body does not involve knowledge of an external body. The human mind perceives no external body as existing in fact, save through ideas of affections of the body. The idea of any state or affection of the human body does not involve the adequate cognition of the human body itself. Ideas of the affections of the human body, in so far as they are referred to the mind only, are not clear and distinct, but confused. The idea of each of the affections of the human body does not involve the adequate cognition of the human mind. All ideas in so far as they are referred to God, are true. Falsehood consists in the absence of the cognition which inadequate and confused ideas involve. Inadequate and confused ideas follow by the same necessity as clear and distinct ones.”

All these statements are elaborated at length. Then he distinguished three degrees of cognition. First, opinion, which is the development of perceptions and general notions from the impression of the senses, represented to the understanding confusedly, or through certain words retained in the memory, which may represent imperfect ideas of things. The second kind of cognition he called reason, which consists of common notions and adequate ideas of the properties of things. The third and highest kind of cognition is intuition, which proceeds from the adequate idea of the real essence of some of the attributes of God, to the requisite cognition of the essence of things. Cognitions of the first kind may be uncertain or untrue; those of the second and third kind are necessarily true, and teach us to distinguish the true from the false. He who has a true idea, is at the same time certain of its truth. The human mind in so far as it has true ideas, is a part of the infinite intellect of God; and so its clear and distinct ideas are as necessarily true as are the ideas of God.¹ As reason considers things as they really are in themselves, it concludes that they are not contingent but necessary. This necessity of things is the very necessity of the eternal nature of God; therefore, reason apprehends things under a certain form of eternity. Every idea of an actual concrete object necessarily involves the eternal and infinite essence of God, which pervades all alike, and is therefore adequately cognised by the human mind.

¹ The very core of Cartesianism.

But there is no such thing in the mind as free-will, since it is a certain and determined mode of thought. “It is determined to will this or that by a cause which is determined by another cause, this by another, and so on to infinity.” The will to affirm or deny ideas is not a mere causeless act, it is the necessary consequence of the ideas; as distinct volitions and ideas are identical, so also are will and understanding one and the same.

The third part of the Ethics, treating on the affections and the emotions, as usual opened with definitions. By affections and emotions, he meant states of the body, whereby its power to act is increased or diminished, aided or controlled, together with the mental ideas of these affections. Opposing natures which would destroy each other cannot exist in the same individual; and each individual thing as far as it can strives to conserve its life. The idea of anything which increases or diminishes the power of the body to act, in an equal degree increases or diminishes the thinking power of the mind; hence the mind strives to imagine such things as increase the power of the body to act. Desire is conscious appetite, and appetite is the very essence of man, in so far as he is determined to those actions that subserve his own preservation.

Spinoza gave a wide meaning to the word desire, including under it efforts, impulses, appetites, and volitions of every kind. Still this part of his work is the most valuable portion of his philosophy.

He recognised only three primary affections, namely, joy, sorrow, and desire. Joy is explained as the transition from a less to a higher state of perfection, while a change in the opposite sense causes sorrow. Love is joy associated with the idea of an external object. Hate is sorrow accompanied by the idea of an external cause. Liking is joy accompanied by the idea of an object which is accidentally the cause of joy. Devotion is love of that which we admire. Scorn is pleasure sprung from this​—that something we despise is imagined in the thing we hate. Hope is wavering joy sprung from an idea of something past or to come, of the issue of which we are more or less in doubt. Fear is unstable sorrow arising from the idea of something past or future, of the issue of which we are in some degree doubtful. Security is joy derived from the idea of something past or future in connection with which all cause of doubt is removed. Despair is sorrow sprung from the idea of a future or past thing combined with no cause of doubt. Thus it appears, that security may be associated with hope, and despair with fear. Sympathy is love so affecting man that he rejoices in another’s weal, and on the other side, grieves over another’s woe.

Thus his descriptions of the affections are generally brief, but careful and well stated. His general description of the affections is to this effect: “The affection which is characterised as a passion of the mind is a confused idea, whereby the mind affirms a stronger or weaker power of existing than was before experienced in its body, or some parts of its body, and which being affirmed, the mind itself is determined to think of this thing rather than of that.” He also stated that all our ideas of bodies rather proclaim the actual constitution of our own body than the nature of any external body, and that those ideas which constitute emotional forms must indicate or express the constitution of the body, or some of its parts, increasing or diminishing its power of acting.

The fourth part of the Ethics treated on the strength of the affections, or human slavery, by which he meant that man is impotent in the direction and the restraint of his own passions. In his introduction to this part, he says: “I call man’s inability to moderate and to control the affective and emotional element in his nature, Slavery. For man under the dominion of his affections is not master of himself, but is controlled by fate, as it were, so that in seeing and even in approving of the better course, he, nevertheless, feels himself constrained to follow the worse.” He repeats his view that there is no final causes or free-will, and then states: “We have shown that nature does not act with a purpose, for the eternal and infinite Being whom we call God, or Nature, as he exists of necessity, so does he act of necessity; and we have shown that by the same necessity that God exists, by the same necessity does he act. The reason, therefore, why God exists and why he acts, is one and the same, and as he does not exist for any end or purpose, so he does not act for any end or purpose; for as he is without beginning or end, as regards his existence, so is he infinite and eternal as regards his acts. Now a final cause, as it is called, is nothing but a human appetite or desire, considered as the cause of anything.”

In this part, his moral views are mainly founded on the following definitions of good and evil:​—“By good I understand that which we know to be useful to us. By evil I understand that which we know prevents us from enjoying something good.” The knowledge of good and evil is nothing more than an emotion of joy or of sorrow, so far as we are conscious of this; hence we call that good or evil which favours or opposes the continuance of our life, or anything which assists or hinders our powers of action. To act virtuously is merely to act for our own life, and to preserve ourselves by the dictates of reason. Man always seeks to preserve his life for the sake of nothing but that which he thinks useful to him. The mind in so far as it reasons, desires nothing but to understand; nor does it judge anything to be useful to it save that which leads to understanding​—and therefore we know nothing certainly as good save that which leads truly to understanding; and on the other hand, nothing is evil save that which prevents us from understanding. “The supreme good of the mind is the knowledge of God, and the highest virtue is to know God.” This is the highest knowledge that the human mind can attain. “Therefore that which is supremely useful or good to the mind is the knowledge of God ... the absolute virtue or power of the mind is, therefore, to understand. But the height of the mind’s understanding is God; consequently, the supreme power of the mind is to know God.”

We call that evil which is the cause of grief or pain to us. In so far as anything agrees with our nature, so far it is good; hence the more that anything accords with our nature, the more useful it is to us, and the more it is good; and so the more useful anything is to us, the more does it agree with our nature. “Nothing, therefore, save in so far as it accords with our nature, can be good; even as the more a thing accords with our nature, the more useful it is.”

The good that the virtuous man desires for himself he also desires for his fellow-men, and this the more ardently as he has a high cognition of God. “Therefore does the votary of virtue desire for all men the good he desires for himself.... Thus, therefore, the greater the conception of God involved in the essence of the mind, the greater will be the desire of the disciple of virtue that any good he enjoys himself should also be enjoyed by others.” Moreover, “the good which a man desires, he will love and desire more constantly if he see that others love and desire it also; and so he will strive to make others love it; and because this good is common to all, and all may equally share it, he will further strive that all should enjoy it, and this so much the more as he himself enjoys it the more.”

All that conduces to the order of society, and tends to make men live in amity, is good; while whatever brings disorder into the state is evil, as everything that causes men to live amicably together, at the same time causes them to live in conformity with reason, and is therefore good. “The man led by reason is freer when he lives as a member of a community under compact and bond of law, than when he lives in solitude and obeys himself alone.... The man, therefore, who is led by reason and desire to live in freedom is careful to observe the common laws of his country.”

To make this part of his work more clear and compact, he gave in an appendix an excellent summary of the whole, and concluded with the following:—

“Man’s power is very limited, and is infinitely surpassed by the power of external causes; and, therefore, we have no absolute power of adapting to our own use things external to ourselves. Still, we should bear with an even mind that which befalls us against the conditions of our advantage, if we are aware that we have fairly done our duty, and that the power we possess could not have gone so far as to avoid those evils, and that we are a part of the whole order of nature, and bound thereby. And understanding this much clearly and distinctly that the part of us which is called intellect, our better part, will therein be contented, and will seek to persist in that content. For, so far as we understand, we consider only that which is necessary, and can rest in nothing but the truth, and, therefore, so far as we rightly understand these things, the endeavour of our better part accords with the universal order of nature.”

The fifth and last part of the Ethics treats on the power of the understanding or human freedom. He repeated his doctrine that the order and connection of ideas is the same as the order of things.¹ Spinoza’s aim in this part is mainly to expound the relation between emotion and reason, the power of the latter over the energy of the former. A passion itself is a confused idea, but whenever we are able to form a clear and distinct idea of it, it ceases to be a passion; hence it follows that to know the passions is the best way to restrain them; understand the passions that you may be master of them. The more that the mind recognises all things as necessary, the less does it suffer from the passions. He who clearly and distinctly knows himself and his passions, rejoices, because such knowledge is accompanied with the idea of God. The love of God ought chiefly to fill the mind, as it is associated with all the higher emotions. “God is without passions or any emotion of joy or sorrow, because all ideas so far as they are referred to God are true; again, God cannot pass from a greater to a less, or from a less to a greater state of perfection. Therefore, as God is not affected by joy nor sorrow, he can neither love or hate anyone. No one can hate God, because the idea of God within us is adequate and perfect; and so far as we contemplate him, to that extent do we act, and consequently, there can be no pain associated with the idea of God. He that loves God cannot seek that God should love him in return; because if man looked for this, he would thereby desire that God should not be God. This love towards God is the highest good which man under the dictates of reason can desire; it is common to all mankind, and we can wish that all should enjoy it as much as ourselves; thus the love of God is not liable to be narrowed by envy or jealousy, on the contrary, it must be cherished the more, the greater the number of our fellow-men we imagine to enjoy it.”

¹ This identity of thought with the order of development in things was adopted by Hegel.

Touching the duration of the human mind, though it cannot remember anything that is past, save during the continuance of the body, yet, as God is the cause of its existence, and also of its essence, there is an idea in God which expresses the essence of this or that human body under the form of eternity. Thus the human mind cannot be wholly destroyed with the body, something of it survives which is eternal. This idea which expresses the essence of body under the form of eternity is a certain mode of thought belonging to the essence of the mind, and necessarily eternal. This, however, cannot be determined by a reference to duration in time, as we cannot remember to have existed before our bodies; nevertheless we feel and are persuaded that we are eternal, as the ground of this feeling and conception is logical demonstration. Our mind can only be said to endure, and its existence to be limited to a certain time, in so far as the existence of the body is involved, and thus far only has the mind the power of apprehending things under the form of time.

The highest effort of the mind and the highest virtue is to understand things through the most perfect kind of cognition; and this is the cognition proceeding from an adequate idea of certain attributes of God to an adequate conception of the essence of things, and the more we comprehend things in this way, the more we know of God. The more apt the mind is to know things in this way the greater its desire for such knowledge, and from this springs the highest satisfaction of the mind. “Our mind in so far as it knows itself and the body under the form of eternity, thus far has it a requisite knowledge of God, and knows that it is in God and is conceived through God. This kind of intuitive cognition depends on the mind itself as its formal cause, in so far as the mind itself is eternal. The farther we advance in this kind of knowledge, the more conscious are we of ourselves and of God, we take delight in it, and our joy is associated with the idea of God as its cause. From this intuitive cognition arises the intellectual love of God, which is eternal. God loves himself with an infinite intellectual love. The intellectual love of the mind for God is the very love of God​—the love wherewith God loves himself, not as He is infinite, but as He can be interpreted by the essence of the human mind considered under the form of eternity; that is, the intellectual love of the mind towards God is part of the infinite love wherewith God loves Himself. Hence it follows, that in so far as God loves Himself, He loves mankind, and that the love of God for man, and the intellectual love of the mind of man for God, are one and the same. From this we clearly understand wherein consists our salvation, our happiness, and our liberty. It is this eternal love of God, which in sacred scripture is spoken of as glory, and with truth, for whether it be referred to the mind of man or of God, it is rightly designated peace of mind, which, in fact, is not to be distinguished from the glory of scripture. There is nothing in nature opposed to this intellectual love, or to abrogate it, and the greater the number of things that the mind knows, according to the second and the third kinds of cognition, the less does it suffer from evil passions, and the less does it fear death.”

He touched on other points of interest to this effect. Inasmuch as the most perfect peace of mind arises from intuitive cognition, it follows that the human mind may be of such a nature that what we have shown to be liable to pass away and perish with the body, when contrasted with what remains, may be of no significance. He who has a mind capable of many things, has a mind the greatest part of which is eternal. Inasmuch as human bodies are capable of a great variety of actions, it is not doubtful that their nature may be such as to be referable to minds which have extensive knowledge of God and of themselves, and of which the principal part is eternal, so that they have scarcely any fear of death. The more perfect anything is it is the more real, and the more active it is the less it suffers; hence the more perfect a thing is the more active it is. From this it is assumed to follow that the part of the mind which remains after the death of the body, whatever be its quantity, is more perfect than the rest. Now, the eternal part of the mind is the understanding, by which we say that we act, but the part that perishes we have shown to be that wherewith the imagination is connected.

From what is stated above, and in other parts of his works, it appears that the human mind, in so far as it is possessed of understanding, is an eternal mode of thought, which is determined by another eternal mode of thought, this by another, and so on to infinity​—so that all together constitute the eternal and infinite intelligence of God. Thus, whatever portion of the mind of man may survive the body, is merged in the divine mind. It has no conscious or distinct existence of its own. It is merely a mode of thought controlled by another and another mode of thought till united and centred in the one eternal essence of the universe.

Spinoza then made some remarks on what he had stated on morality in other parts of the work, and concluded with these words: “Herewith I have finished all that I proposed to say touching the power of the mind over the emotions and her freedom. Whence it is evident how great is the wise man’s power and his advantage over the ignorant man who is driven by blind desire. For as such a man is distracted by external influences, and in many ways besides, and never attains true contentment in his soul; he lives, as it were, without sense of himself and God and the nature of things, and no sooner ceases to suffer than he ceases to be. Whereas the wise man, if we take him as such, is of a constant mind, and being aware of himself and of God and the nature of things in a way of eternal necessity, does never cease to be, but is ever in possession of true contentment. And if the way I have shown to lead hither seems exceedingly hard, yet it may be discovered. That truly must be hard which is seldom found. For if salvation were so easy and could be found with little trouble, how should it come to pass that nearly all mankind neglect it? But every excellent work is as difficult as it is rare.” Thus, in the final result, Spinoza came near to the Stoics’ position: which is, that the way is open to everyone alike, but as things stand, the mass of mankind are ruled by the coarser motives, which alone they appreciate. He does not seem to have believed in any great improvement of the body of mankind; and considering the state of Europe in his day, and all the circumstances around him, who could blame him? Even now and here, it must be confessed that the most sanguine thinker, and the most hopeful reformer, frequently meet with many things which might shake the confidence of the firmest mind and the warmest heart.

Viewing Spinoza’s work as a system of the universe, or as a philosophy of existence, it falls far short of its end. Both in its principles and in its details it is defective, and it contains many inconsistencies which have often been pointed out.

But it is chiefly as a moral system that it is interesting to us. Though he treated many moral points ably and fairly, and freely admitted and even insisted on the value of the principle of utility, yet the defects of his system, considered as a moral philosophy, are obvious. If morality and religion are related subjects, which in various ways strengthen each other, then little can be made of his system​—since a God of infinite and eternal existence, of infinite intelligence and perfection, but without will or purpose, or moral attributes of any kind, could hardly be an object of worship to ordinary men. But apart from this, and taking morality in the narrowest sense, his ethical system is defective in many points, which it is needless to particularise.

Spinoza in several parts of his writings greatly underrated the complexity of the problems of ethical and political science. He nowhere signalised the distinction between positive morality and positive law. He was often astonishingly wrong in believing that he had found a short road to certain and perfect knowledge, and this is especially noticeable in his treatment of politics. He thought that no important experiment in politics remained to be tried that had not been already discovered and attempted. He manifested no grasp of the method of the gradual development of society and political institutions; such shortcomings, however, were common to the philosophers of the period.

But finally, as a philosopher, and as a man, Spinoza manifested great moral energy and force of character. He was gifted with an intellect of a keen and original cast, though not of the most comprehensive and highest order. His doctrine of the eternity of the human mind is one of the boldest efforts of speculative thought on record, and exhibited a grasp of mind rarely attained, while it has produced memorable results. His identification of the human mind with God seems to have suggested the speculations of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel touching the comprehension of the Absolute or God, which raised such a stir in Germany and in France in the first half of the present century; and, indeed, historically, Spinoza’s writings have had much influence in various directions.

An account of Spinoza’s philosophy is given in the chief histories of philosophy, and there are several works which specially treat on his system, among which may be mentioned, Pollock’s Life and Philosophy of Spinoza, 1880; Willis’s Life, Correspondence, and Ethics of Spinoza, 1870; and others in French and German. Soon after the publication of Spinoza’s system, a considerable number of works appeared in which his views were combated. Though not at all a believer in the philosophy of Spinoza myself, nevertheless, I can honestly join with Schleiermacher, who said:​—“Offer reverentially with me a lock to the manes of the holy, rejected Spinoza! He was filled with the lofty world-spirit; the infinite was his beginning and his end; the universe his only and eternal love. In holy innocence and deep humility he saw himself in the mirror of the eternal world, and saw how he too was its most lovely mirror; full of religion was he, and full of holy spirit, and hence he stands there alone and unrivalled, master in his art, but exalted above the profane guild, without disciples and without civil right.”

Leibnitz, a contemporary of Spinoza, is usually regarded as the founder of the German philosophy of the eighteenth century.¹ He attained to eminence both in philosophy and in mathematics, and wrote on many subjects. But he nowhere developed his philosophical views in a systematic and complete form; a mere summary of his doctrines was presented in his exposition of the monadology.

¹ Born 1646, and died 1716. A list of the books which specially treat on the life, the writings, and the philosophy of Leibnitz, is given in the second volume, Ueberweg’s History of Philosophy, pages 94‒96.

He adopted the dogmatic form of philosophising, that is, he believed that the power of human thought, when aided by clear and distinct ideas, could transcend the limits of experience, and attain to perfect truth. But he overstepped both the dualism of Descartes and the monism of Spinoza, by the recognition of a graduated scale of beings. Eternal truths are in the divine understanding, distinct from the divine will; the divine mind being the source of the possibility of things, while the divine will is the cause of their reality; and hence all truth must by its nature be rational. In psychology he adopted a form of the doctrine of innate ideas, associated with the principles of identity and contradiction. Error arises from a want of clearness and distinctness; while dark and confused knowledge may be raised by demonstration to clearness and distinctness.

The aim of his theory of monads¹ is to ascertain the existence and to determine the nature of the simplest elements of substance, into which all other things and beings might be resolved. The primary monads seem to be something like atoms, or units of matter and of mind, endowed with life and ideas. All the monads have ideas, but of different degrees of clearness. God is the first monad, the primitive substance, and all His ideas are perfect. The souls of animals have sensation and memory. Every soul is a monad, as its power of acting proves its substantiality, and all substances are monads. Inorganic nature is merely an aggregate of undeveloped monads, while plants and minerals are a kind of sleeping monads with unconscious ideas; but in plants these ideas are formative forces. Man is a monad that has been waked up. The monads are not distinguishable in kind, but only in degree; the difference between them consists in the separate stages of development which each has attained. Every conscious monad has the clearest perception of those parts of the universe to which it is most nearly related; and thus from its own standpoint it is a mirror of the universe.

¹ Leibnitz seems to have borrowed the term monads from Bruno; see page 400.

His theory of “pre-established harmony” is thus expressed by himself:​—“Every body acts as if there were no soul, and every soul acts as if there were no body; and yet both act as if each was influenced by the other.” So between the succession of the ideas, and the motions of the monad, there is a harmony pre-established by God. The soul and body of man agree, as it were, like the two clocks originally set together, and exactly moving at the same rate. In the same way each part of the universe harmonises with every other part. Creation simply consisted in first establishing, once for all, the laws of this unity and harmony; everything being arranged, the parts assigned to their places, every thought and every motion having been foreseen and provided for, when the universe was first called into existence. The existing world, therefore, is the best of all possible worlds, whether our limited minds can understand it in this light or not. The continuity of physical law is never broken, and yet the moral world is in harmony with the physical world, as the course of nature in all cases must be in accord with the highest interest of the soul.¹

¹ Compare Stewart’s Dissertion, pages 254‒257, 560‒561, edition, 1854; and Ueberweg’s History of Philosophy, Volume II., pages 106‒113.

Though Leibnitz endeavoured to unite the cosmological and the theological ideas, the origin of the world from God, and its explanation by physical laws, yet he completely failed to establish a real harmony of the two conceptions; as everyone before and after him has failed in their attempts to unite opposite elements in one conception. The inconsistencies of his philosophy have often been exposed; nevertheless, it is only justice to state that his writings contained many valuable suggestions, which subsequently proved to be true.¹