a 
 

 
 
THE METHOD, 
 MEDITATIONS 
 AND 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 of 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/methodmeditation01desc 
 
THE METHOD, 
 MEDITATIONS 
 AND PHILOSOPHY 
 
 of 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL TEXTS WITH A 
 NEW INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, HISTORICAL 
 AND CRITICAL 
 
 By 
 
 JOHN VEITCH, LL.D., 
 
 Professor of Logic and Rhetoric in the University of Glasgow 
 
 AND A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 FRANK SEWALL, A.M. 
 
 TUDOR PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
Printed in U.2.A. 
 
1 
 
 
 1 1 \ 
 
 SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 T o the Frenchman, Rend Descartes, modern learning 
 is indebted for some of the most potent factors in its 
 advancement. These are: in Mathematics, the in- 
 vention of the Binomial Theorem and the application of 
 Algebra to Geometry in the Analytical Geometry; in 
 Physics, the suggestion of the evolution of the universe 
 through Vortices and the discovery of the laws of the Re- 
 fraction of Light; in Physiology, the doctrine of the 
 Animal Spirits and the theory of the Mechanism of the 
 soul’s operation in the body; in Philosophy, the finding 
 of the ultimate reality in subjective consciousness and 
 the deducting thence of an argument for, if not a proof 
 of, the Existence of God; in Epistemology, the ground- 
 ing of scientific Law on the existence of a true God; in 
 Ethics, the tracing of evil to the necessary error arising 
 from judgments based on finite and therefore imperfect 
 knowledge. 
 
 Whatever significance we attach to the alleged flaw in 
 the argument in proof of God’s existence drawn by Des- 
 cartes from our mind’s necessary conception of a perfect 
 being, which conception in turn necessarily implies the 
 existence of its object, the fact remains that in this ulti- 
 mate unity of the soul’s apperception whereby the many 
 are brought into relation to a single all-embracing, all- 
 regulating Whole lies the possibility of a science of the 
 universe, and that in uniting the subjective certainty of 
 consciousness with the clear precision of mathematical 
 reasoning Descartes gave a new and vital impetus to 
 human learning in both its physical and metaphysical 
 endeavors. 
 
 Rene Descartes (Lat. Renatus Cartesius ) was born in 
 La Haye, Touraine, France, on the 31st of March, 1596. 
 His parents were well to do, of the official class, and his 
 father was the owner of considerable estates. His mother 
 
 (v) 
 
vi 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 dying soon after his birth, he was given in charge of a 
 faithful nurse, whose care for him, a child so frail that 
 his life was nearly despaired of, was afterward grate- 
 fully rewarded. His father intrusted his education to 
 the Jesuits and at the age of eight years he was sent to 
 the college at La Fleche in Anjou, where he remained 
 eight years. It was then, in his seventeenth year, that 
 we read of his becoming dissatisfied with the hollow and 
 formal learning of the Church schools and demanding a 
 free and deeper range for his mental faculties. One study, 
 favored of the Jesuits, mathematics, so deeply interested 
 him that on leaving the college and going to Paris to 
 taste the pleasures of a life in the world, he became in 
 a year’s time wearied of its dissipations and suddenly 
 withdrew himself into almost cloistral retirement, in a 
 little house at St. Germain, to give himself up to the 
 fascinations of Arithmetic and Geometry. The disturbed 
 political life of the capital led him to leave France, and 
 in his twenty-first year he went to the Netherlands 
 and enlisted in the army of Prince Maurice of Orange. 
 After two years’ service in Holland during an interval of 
 peace, he enlisted again as a private in the Bavarian 
 service in the war between Austria and the Protestant 
 princes. In this war he was present at the battle of 
 Prague, and in the following year he served in the Hun- 
 garian campaign. Quitting the service in the year 1621, 
 he journeyed through the eastern and northern countries 
 returning through Belgium to Paris in 1622. Disposing 
 of some inherited property in a way to yield him a com- 
 fortable income he now starts on a tour in Italy and 
 Switzerland. Paying his vows at Loretto and visiting 
 Rome and Venice, he returns again to France in 1626, 
 where he resumes his mathematical studies with his con- 
 genial companions, the famous mathematician Mydorge 
 and his former schoolmate the priest Mersenne. He was 
 now interested in the study of the refraction of light, 
 and in the perfecting of lenses for optical instruments. 
 His military zeal again caused an interruption of these 
 peaceful studies in calling him away to be a participant 
 of the siege of Rochelle in 1628. Returning to Paris, 
 his mind divided between his delight in adventure and 
 the charms of the deeper problems of science and philoso- 
 phy, and finding a life of seclusion impossible there, at the 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 vii 
 
 sugg es ti°n of Cardinal Berulle, the founder of the Congre- 
 gation of the Oratory, he leaves Paris and in 1629 settles 
 in Holland where for twenty years he devotes himself 
 to developing his philosophical system and publishing 
 his works. Three times he visits Paris to look after his 
 family affairs and to receive the pension twice awarded 
 him by the Government. He made a hasty visit to 
 England in the study of magnetic phenomena in 1630. 
 
 The last year of his life was spent in Stockholm, 
 Sweden, whither he had been called by the young Queen 
 Christiana, daughter of Gustave Adolphus, who, in her 
 ambition to adorn her reign with the lustre of learning, 
 desired the immediate tutelage of the now renowned phi- 
 losopher, as well as his assistance in planning an academy 
 of sciences. In the pursuit of these duties under arduous 
 circumstances the philosopher (compelled to give an hour’s 
 instruction daily to his energetic royal pupil at five o clock 
 in the morning) contracted an inflammation of the lungs, 
 and ten days after delivering to her the code for the pro- 
 posed academy, he died. His remains were carried to 
 France and after remaining in the Pantheon until 1819 
 they were transferred to the Church of St. Germain des 
 Prds, where they now repose. Gustave III. erected a 
 monument to his memory at Stockholm. 
 
 If such a thing can be conceived as a knighthood of 
 pure intellect it was emphasized in this illustrious French- 
 man whose career almost entirely outside of his native 
 land gives the country of his birth a place in the front 
 ranks of philosophic achievement. While accounted gen- 
 erally the founder of the rationalistic or dogmatic phi- 
 losophy which underlies modern idealism, on the other 
 hand it may be claimed with equal propriety, as Huxley 
 showed in his address to the students in Cambridge in 
 1870, that the principles of his (< Traits d' I'hdmme ® very 
 nearly coincide with the materialistic aspects of modern 
 psychophysiology. A man so devout in spirit that his 
 <( Meditations * read like the <( Confessions * of St. Augustine 
 and so loyal to his Church that he made it the first of 
 his maxims of conduct <( To abide by the old law and 
 religion,® and who died in the happy conviction that he 
 had succeeded in proving with a certainty as clear as 
 that of mathematics the existence of God, he was, in the 
 half century succeeding his death, to have his works placed 
 
DESCARTES 
 
 viii 
 
 in the Index Expurgatorius by the Church, his teachings 
 excluded from the university, and an oration at the in- 
 terment of his remains in Paris forbidden by royal com- 
 mand. In England, Bishop Parker of Oxford classed 
 Descartes among the infidels with Hobbs and Gassendi, 
 and Protestants generally regarded as atheistic his prin- 
 ciple that the Bible was not intended to teach the 
 sciences, and, as an encroachment on the Church’s au- 
 thority, his doctrine that the existence of God could be 
 proved by reason alone. The man who perhaps more 
 than any other has brought the lustre of philosophic re- 
 nown upon France lived nearly all the years of his liter- 
 ary activity beyond its borders, taught in none of her 
 schools and even as a soldier fought in none of her for- 
 eign wars. Laboring for years and with unflagging zeal 
 in the elaboration of his Equation of the Curve and his 
 system of symbols which made possible the Binomial 
 Theorem, yet he avows that geometry was never his first 
 love and that mathematics are but the outer shell to the real 
 system of his philosophy. Nothing, at least, would satisfy 
 him short of the universal mathesis or a view of relations 
 and powers so universal as to embrace the whole field of 
 possible knowledge. He was never married. Although 
 he wrote poems and was devoted to music in his youth, 
 yet he seems to fight shy of even these recreations as he 
 does of the enticements of friendship, preferring the cool 
 and calm states of solitude as conducive to his life’s 
 chosen task, — that of finding the truth of science in the 
 truth of God. The twenty years of his life in Holland 
 during which he resided mostly in a number of little 
 university towns was the time of a brilliant court under 
 the stadtholder Frederick Henry and of the famous art 
 of Rembrandt and the scholarship of Grotius and Vossius. 
 But these were as nothing to Descartes who shows a 
 contempt for all learning and art for their own sake. 
 Knowledge, he maintained, must be grounded in intelli- 
 gence rather than in erudition. He studies the world, 
 men, states, nature only as spectacles of a deep inner 
 and immortal principle into whose secret he would pene- 
 trate. For this he keeps himself aloof from personal and 
 political entanglements, not allowing even his family affairs 
 to engross him; and, while he keeps himself in touch 
 with intellectual movements in Paris through the corre- 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 IX 
 
 spondence of his friends there, he does so with the pre- 
 caution to keep his own whereabouts a secret from the world 
 at large. It is as if he would make his mind a perfectly 
 clear, cold crystal reflecting like the monad of the later 
 system of Leibnitz, in perfect distinctness that truth of 
 the universe and its God that he would give to the 
 world. Destined as they were to be for a time put under 
 the ban of both the Church and the universities, yet im- 
 mediately on their publication, the doctrines of Descartes 
 were received with a popular enthusiasm that made them 
 the fashionable cult of Cardinals, scholars, and princes in 
 the court Of Louis XIV., and the favorite theme of the 
 salons of Madame de Sevigne, and the Duchesse de Maine. 
 Although already forbidden by the Index in 1663 and 
 condemned as dangerous to the faith by the Archbishop 
 of Paris in 1671, still in 1680 the lectures of the popular 
 expositor of the new philosophy, Pierre Silvan Regis, 
 were so sought after in Paris that seats in the audience 
 hall could with difficulty be obtained. The principle of 
 his physics and mathematics soon assumed their essential 
 place in the progress of modern science and in Holland, 
 where from the first the new philosophy found many ad- 
 vocates, Spinoza, seizing upon the Cartesian principle of 
 the development of philosophy from the a priori ground 
 of the most certain knowledge, founded his system of 
 Idealistic Monism which has largely entered into all the 
 modern schools of speculative thought. 
 
 What has given Descartes a unique hold upon the 
 thought of modern times is his making the mind’s posi- 
 tion of universal doubt the proper starting place in 
 philosophy. This he does, however, not in the spirit of 
 skepticism, but in the effort to construct a system of 
 truthful knowledge. As Bacon was dissatisfied with the 
 assumption by the schools of a priori principles that had 
 no ground in experience, so Descartes, finding himself 
 disposed to question the authority of all that was taught 
 him, conceived the idea of allowing this very doubt to 
 run its full course, and so of finding what ground, if any 
 remained, for a certain knowledge of anything whatever. 
 Thus doubt as the natural attitude of the mind, instead 
 of being combatted as an enemy to even the highest and 
 surest knowledge, was itself to be forced to yield up its own 
 tribute of knowing. This it does in bringing the doubter 
 
X 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 to the first and fundamental admission that in doubt- 
 ing he is thinking, and that in order to think he must at 
 least exist. Therefore, the existence of the thinker, or 
 the fact of thinking, is a fact beyond the possibility of 
 doubt. Hence the basic maxim of the Cartesian philoso- 
 phy, Je pense, done je suis. In developing his philosophic 
 method, Descartes lays down the following rules for his 
 guidance : 
 
 I. Never to accept anything as true which I do not clearly know 
 to be such. 
 
 II. Divide difficulties into as many parts as possible. 
 
 III. Proceed from the simplest and surest knowledges to the more 
 complex, and — 
 
 IV. Make the connection so complete, and the reviews so general, 
 that nothing shall be overlooked. 
 
 ® Convinced,® he says, “that I was as open to error as 
 any other, I rejected as false all the reasonings I had 
 hitherto taken as demonstrations ; also that thoughts, 
 awake, may be as really experienced as when asleep, 
 therefore all may be delusions ; yet in thinking thus I must 
 be a somewhat; hence cogito ergo sum. The doubter’s 
 thinking proves his existence. I conclude that I am a 
 substance whose existence is in thinking, and that there 
 is no proof of the certainty of the first maxim to be 
 adopted except that of a vision or consciousness as clear as 
 this that I have of my own existence. * But in thinking of 
 his own existence, he is immediately convinced of the 
 limitations and imperfections of his mind from the fact 
 of its imperfect knowledge of things causing him to doubt: 
 hence he is led to infer the existence of a being who is 
 perfect and without limitations; for it is impossible to 
 conceive of imperfection without conceiving at the same 
 time of perfection; and it is this perfect being alone 
 which can be the cause of all other beings, since it must 
 be the perfect which gives rise to imperfect and finite 
 rather than that the imperfect should be the cause of the 
 perfect. Hence we derive the idea of the being of God 
 as the perfect being. But the idea of the perfection of 
 anything involves that of its existence; hence Descartes 
 concludes by a logic, whose validity has often been chal- 
 lenged, that the perfect being must exist; and hence, he 
 holds, we are assured of the existence of God. The proof 
 is strengthened also by the reflection that the idea itself 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 xi 
 
 of a perfect being could only have come into a finite 
 mind from such a perfect source. The idea of God in 
 the human mind at once implies the existence of God as 
 the only possible source of this idea ; and the idea of God 
 as a perfect being without existence it would be impos- 
 sible to conceive. Further, the knowledge now clearly 
 attained of the existence of God shows us that God as 
 perfect must be a beneficent being whose only object 
 toward his creatures must be to enlighten and to bless 
 them. Therefore, he would not create beings only to 
 deceive them by making them subject necessarily to de- 
 lusion. The evidence of the senses, therefore, as to the 
 existence of an objective world which is as real and as 
 certain as this certain world of thought, must be a true 
 evidence. The external world exists as truly as the in- 
 ternal. But as external, it is utterly without thought 
 and without consciousness. The created universe is, 
 therefore, under God, who is the one perfect self-existent 
 Substance, dual in its nature, or composed of two subor- 
 dinate substances utterly discrete in their nature and 
 incapable of any intercommunication. The one is the 
 world of thought, the other the world of extension. To 
 the one belong our minds, to the other our bodies. But 
 while there can be no intermingling or community of 
 those substances so absolutely unlike, yet there is in man 
 a minute organ, the pineal gland in the brain, where the 
 two alone come into such contact that, by a miraculous 
 and constant intervention of deity, the action of the soul 
 is extended into, or made coincident with, that of the 
 body. This discreteness of the two planes, or degrees of 
 substance, matter and thought, their perfect correspond- 
 ence and their mutual influence by contiguity and not 
 by continuity or confusion, forms one of the landmarks of 
 modern philosophy, and is carried later by Swedenborg 
 into a much more perfect development in his doctrine of 
 Discrete Degrees and their Correspondence. The treat- 
 ment of the problems of the mutual influx of these two 
 degrees of substance, mind and matter, has been a dis- 
 tinguishing mark of subsequent schools of philosophy, 
 culminating in the theory of parallelism, which is current 
 at the present day. While Descartes accounts for the 
 parallel action of these two utterly unlike and incom- 
 municable substances by the supposed immediate opera- 
 
xii 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 tion of God upon both on the occasion of either being 
 affected, his immediate follower Geulinx regards the 
 coincident action of the two substances as divinely fore- 
 ordained, so that the action of one accompanies that of 
 the other, like the movements of the hands of two clocks 
 made to run exactly alike, and yet in no way to interfere 
 with one another. This is the theory of (< pre-established 
 harmony w applied by Leibnitz to his world of monads. 
 Malebranche, however, another disciple of Descartes, held 
 that the interaction of the two planes, in nature inex- 
 plicable, becomes possible through their hidden unity and 
 harmony in God, in whom is all life and motion. Swe- 
 denborg, opposing with Descartes the doctrine of physical 
 influx, sets forth the doctrine of a perfect <( correspondence }> 
 of the discrete degrees of being, such that motions may 
 be imparted by the contact of these degrees without any 
 intermingling of their substance and by virtue of the 
 harmony of their interior form, all exterior and material 
 things being symbols and vessels of interior things. 
 
 With Descartes the lower animals and men as to their 
 purely animal nature are perfect machines and form a 
 part of the stupendous mechanism of the world. Man 
 alone by virtue of his rational soul presides like an 
 engineer in the midst of this vast machinery and gov- 
 erns the conduct of the body by the dictates of wisdom 
 and virtue. Man’s soul, a thinking principle, is com- 
 posed of will and intellect, and the intellect is composed 
 of partly innate and partly derived ideas. The thoughts 
 of the finite mind must be imperfect, whereas the will 
 partakes of the infinite freedom of God. The tendency 
 of the human will is therefore to wander beyond that 
 which it clearly sees in its own limited understanding, 
 and hence from the abuse of the finite human thought 
 arise error and sin. These privations suffered by human 
 thought are however evidences of God’s goodness and 
 justice since the universe is more perfect for the multi- 
 tude and variety of its imperfect parts. God is in every 
 one of our clear thoughts, and so far as we abide by 
 them in our judgments we are right; so far as in our 
 own free will we transgress or exceed them we are in 
 error and come into unhappiness. As regards the 
 thought of God it is not the thought itself that effects 
 the existence of God but the necessity of the thing 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 xiii 
 
 itself determines us to have this thought. The thought 
 of God being therefore the ground of all the certainty 
 of any knowledge of anything, the truth of all science 
 must depend on the knowledge of a true God The 
 soul’s immortality is inferred in the sixth “ Meditation ® 
 from the fact that we have a clear and distinct idea of 
 thought, including sensations and willing, without any- 
 thing material appertaining to it; hence its existence 
 must be possible independent of the material body. 
 
 Such is an outline of Descartes’ arguments in proof of 
 the existence of God, and of his method of attaining to 
 true knowledge. They are given in the “ Discours de la 
 Mtthode pour bien conduire le raison et chercher la Vtriti 
 dans les Sciences^ published in the “ Essais Philosophiques ® 
 at Leyden, 1637, and in the “ Meditationes de prima phi- 
 losophia , ubi de Dei existentia et animce immortalitate; his 
 adjunctce sunt varice objectiones doctorum virorum in istas 
 de Deo et anima demonstrations cum responsionibus auctoris ,® 
 published in Paris 1641; and in another edition in Am- 
 sterdam in 1642. A French translation of the “Medita- 
 tions ” by the Duke of Luynes and of the objections and 
 replies by Clerselier, revised by Descartes, appeared in 
 1647. In 1644 appeared in Amsterdam the complete sys- 
 tem of Descartes’ philosophy under the title <( Renati 
 Descartes Principia Philosophies. ® This, after a brief out- 
 line of the subjects discussed in the “Meditations,® deals 
 with the general principles of Physical Science, espe- 
 cially of the laws of motion and the doctrine of the evo- 
 lution of the universe through vortices in the primitive 
 mass, resulting in the whirling of matter into spherical 
 bodies, the falling or sifting through of angular frag- 
 ments into the solid central bodies and the formation 
 thence of matter and the firmament and planets. In 
 this vortical theory of creation which anticipates that of 
 Swedenborg, Kant, and Laplace, the method is that of 
 deducing hypothetical causes from actual results or pro- 
 jecting the laws of creation backward from the known 
 effect to the necessary cause. It differs from the theory 
 of Swedenborg in producing the center from the circum- 
 ference instead of animating the center or the first point 
 with its motive derived from the infinite and thus de- 
 veloping all motions and forms from it. (See Sweden- 
 borg’s “ Principia ,® Vol. I., chap II. “A Philosophical 
 
XIV 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 Argument concerning the First Simple from which the 
 World, with its natural things originated; that is con- 
 cerning the first Natural Point and its existence from 
 the Infinite. a ) The phenomena of light, heat, gravity, 
 magnetism, etc. , are also treated of. Descartes here while 
 hot venturing to openly oppose his rationalistic theory of 
 the creation to that of the Bible, apologizes for suggest- 
 ing the rational process, in that it makes the world more 
 intelligible than the treatment of its objects merely as 
 we find them fully created. 
 
 While rejecting the Copernican theory by name out of 
 fear of religious opinion, he maintains it in substance in his 
 idea of the earth as being carried around the sun in a great 
 solar vortex. 
 
 In the (( Essais Philosophiques w appeared also, together 
 With the “ Discours de la Mdthode , >> the (< Dioptrique, ” the 
 ® MJtJoresf and the (< G^omJtrieP The (< Principles of 
 Philosophy * were dedicated to the Princess Elizabeth, 
 the daughter of the ejected elector Palatine, who had 
 been his pupil at The Hague. To his later royal pupil, 
 the Queen Christiana of Sweden, he sent the <( Essay on 
 the Passions of the Mind ® originally written for the 
 Princess Elizabeth and which was published at Amster- 
 dam in 1650. The posthumous work, <( Le Monde , ou 
 traits de la lumtire * was edited by Descartes’ friend 
 Clerselier and published in Paris 1664, also the (< Trait i 
 de' I'homme et de la formation de foetus ,* in the same 
 year by the same editor. It was this work with its bold 
 theory of the Animal Spirit as being the mechanical 
 principle of motion actuating the lower animals by 
 means of pure mechanism, without feeling or intelligence 
 on their part, that raised such an outcry among the ene- 
 mies of Descartes and was not deemed safe to publish 
 during his lifetime. In it occurs the graphic illustration 
 of the animal system comparing it to a garden such as 
 one sees in the parks of princes of Europe where are 
 ingenuously constructed figures of all kinds which, on 
 some hidden part being touched unawares by the visitor 
 to the garden, the figures are all set in motion, the 
 fountains play, etc. The visitors in the garden tread- 
 ing on the concealed machinery are the objects striking 
 the organs of sensation ; the water flowing through the 
 pipes and producing motion and semblance of life is the 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 xv 
 
 animal spirit ; the engineer sitting concealed in the center 
 and controlling the whole is the rational soul. 
 
 <( Les Regies pour la direction de l esprit ” which is thought 
 to have been written in the years 1617-28 and to 
 illustrate the course of Descartes’ own philosophical de- 
 velopment, and the (< Recherche de la verity par les lumieres 
 naturellesj were published at Amsterdam in 1701. A 
 complete edition in Latin of Descartes’ philosophical 
 works was published in Amsterdam in 1850, and the 
 complete works, in French, at Paris, edited by Victor 
 Cousin, in 1824-26. In 1868 appeared, in Paris, <( CEuvres 
 de Descartes , nouvelle edition precdd^e d'une introduction 
 par Jules Simon . w 
 

 ' 
 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION : 
 
 I. Descartes — His Life and Writings i 
 
 II. Philosophy Preceding Descartes in the Fifteenth and Six- 
 
 teenth Centuries 6 
 
 III. The Cogito ergo sum — Its Nature and Meaning . . . n 
 
 IV. Cogito ergo sum — Objections to the Principle. ... 21 
 
 V. The Guarantee of the Principle 27 
 
 VI. The Criterion of Truth 39 
 
 VII. The Ego and the Material World 48 
 
 VIII. Innate Ideas 57 
 
 IX. Malebranche 58 
 
 X. Spinoza — Relations to Descartes 68 
 
 XI. Development of Cartesianism in the Line of Spinoza — 
 
 Omnis determinatio est negatio 88 
 
 XII. Hegelian Criticism — the Ego and the Infinite . . . 107 
 
 DISCOURSE ON METHOD : 
 
 Prefatory Note by the Author 148 
 
 I. Various Considerations Touching the Sciences . . . 149 
 
 II. The Principal Rules of the Method 155 
 
 III. Certain Rules of Morals Deduced from the Method . . 164 
 
 IV. Reasons Establishing the Existence of God and of the Hu- 
 
 man Soul 170 
 
 V. The Order of the Physical Questions Investigated by Des- 
 
 cartes ; His Explication of the Motion of the Heart, and 
 of Some Other Difficulties Pertaining to Medicine ; the 
 Difference between the Soul of Man and that of Brutes 177 
 
 VI. What Is Required in Order to Greater Advancement in the 
 
 Investigation of Nature; Reasons that Induced Des- 
 cartes to Write 190 
 
 THE MEDITATIONS : 
 
 Dedication 206 
 
 Preface 211 
 
 Synopsis of the Meditations 215 
 
 I. Of the Things which We may Doubt 219 
 
 II. Of the Nature of the Human Mind; and that It Is More 
 
 Easily Known than the Body 224 
 
 III. Of God: that He Exists 234 
 
 IV. Of Truth and Error 249 
 
 (kvii) 
 
xviii DESCARTES 
 
 PAGK 
 
 V. Of the Essence of Material Things ; and, Again, of God, that 
 
 He Exists 258 
 
 VI, Of the Existence of Material Things, and of the Real Dis- 
 
 tinction between the Mind and Body of Man . . 264 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY: 
 
 Preface 283 
 
 Dedication 297 
 
 I. Of the Principles of Human Knowledge 301 
 
 II. Of the Principles of Material Things. Sects, i. to xxv. . 333 
 
 III. Of the Visible World. Sects, i. to iii 345 
 
 IV. Of the Earth. Sects, clxxxviii. to ccvii 347 
 
 APPENDIX : 
 
 Reasons which Establish the Existence of God, and the 
 Distinction between the Mind and Body of Man, Dis- 
 posed in Geometrical Order 363 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 

 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I. Descartes — His Life and Writings. 
 
 The life of Descartes is best read in his writings, 
 especially in that choice and pleasing fragment of men- 
 tal autobiography, the Discours de la M e'tliode. But it is 
 desirable to give the leading facts and dates of a career 
 as unostentatious and barren of current and popular 
 interest, as it was significant and eventful for the future 
 of modem thought. 
 
 Rene Descartes was born on the 31st March, 1596. 
 His birthplace was La Haye, a small town in the prov- 
 ince of Touraine, now the department of the Indre et 
 Loire. His family, on both sides, belonged to the landed 
 gentry of the province of Poitou, and was of old stand- 
 ing. The ancestral estates lay in the neighborhood of 
 Chatelleraut, in the plain watered by the Vienne, as it 
 flows northward, amid fields fertile in com and vines, to 
 the Loire. The manor, called Les Cartes , from which 
 the family derived its name, is about a league from La 
 Haye. It is now embraced in the commune of Ormes- 
 Saint-Martin, in the department of Vienne, which repre- 
 sents the old province of Poitou. 
 
 The mother of the philosopher was Jeanne Brochard, 
 and his father was Joachim Descartes, a lawyer by pro- 
 fession, and a counsellor in the Parliament of Bretagne. 
 This assembly was held in the town of Rennes, the old 
 capital of the province, and there the family usually re- 
 sided during the session. Rend was the third child of 
 the marriage. The title of Seigneur du Perron, some- 
 times attached to his name, came to him from inheriting 
 a small estate through his mother. His elder brother 
 followed the father’s profession, and became in his turn 
 a counsellor of the Parliament of Bretagne. He seems 
 to have been a proper type of the conventional gentle- 
 man of the time. So far from regarding it as an honor 
 to be connected with the philosopher, he thought it 
 -« (1) 
 
2 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 derogatory to the family that his brother Rend should 
 write books. This elder brother was the first of the 
 family to settle in Bretagne, so that it is a mistake to 
 represent Descartes as a Breton. He was really de- 
 scended from Poitou ancestry. 
 
 In 1604, at the age of eight, he was sent to the recently- 
 instituted Jesuit College of La Fldche. The studies of 
 the place were of the usual scholastic type. He mastered 
 these, but he seems to have taken chiefly to mathemat- 
 ics. Here he remained eight years, leaving the college 
 in 1612. After a stay in Paris of four years, the greater 
 part of the time being spent in seclusion and quiet study, 
 at the age of twenty-one he entered the army, joining 
 the troops of Prince Maurice of Nassau in Holland. He 
 afterward took service with the Duke of Bavaria, then 
 made a campaign in Hungary under the Count de 
 Bucquoy. His insatiable desire of seeing men and the 
 world, which had been the principal motive for his join- 
 ing the army, now urged him to travel. Moravia, Silesia, 
 the shores of the Baltic, Holstein, and Friesland, were 
 all visited by him at this time. Somewhat later, in 1623, 
 he set out from Paris for Italy, traversed the Alps and 
 visited the Grisons, the Valteline, the Tyrol, and then 
 went by Innsbruck to Venice and Rome. In the winter 
 of 1619-20, when, after close thinking, some fundamen- 
 tal point in his philosophy dawned on his mind, he had 
 a remarkable dream, and thereupon he vowed to make a 
 pilgrimage to Loretto. There can be little doubt that 
 he actually fulfilled his vow on the occasion of this visit 
 to Italy, walking on foot from Venice to Loretto. He 
 finally settled to the reflective work of his life in 1629, at 
 the age of thirty-three, choosing Amsterdam for his res- 
 idence. Holland was then the land of freedom — civil 
 and literary — and this no doubt influenced his decision. 
 But he also, as he tells us, preferred the cooler atmos- 
 phere of the Low Lands to the heat of Italy and France. 
 In the former he could think with cool head, in the 
 latter he could only produce phantasies of the brain. 
 
 Here, professing and acting on the principle, Bene vixit 
 bene qui latuit , he meditated and wrote for twenty years, 
 with a patience, force, and fruitfulness of genius which 
 has been seldom equalled in the history of the world 
 His works appeared in the following order: Discours de la 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Mtthode pour bien conduire sa raison, et chercher la veriti 
 dans les sciences; plus la Dioptrique, les Mdtdores et la 
 Gtomdtrie, qui sont des Essais de cette Mdthode. Leyden: 
 1637. This was published anonymously. Etienne de 
 Courcelles translated the Method, Dioptrics, and Meteors 
 into Latin. This was revised by Descartes, and published 
 at Amsterdam in 1644. The Geometry was translated 
 into Latin, with commentary, by Francis von Schooten, 
 and published at Leyden, 1649. The Meditations were 
 first published in Paris in 1641. The title was Meditationes 
 de prima Philosophia , in qua Dei existentia et animce im- 
 mortalitas demonstrantur . In the second edition, published 
 under the superintendence of the author himself at Am- 
 sterdam in 1642, the title was as follows: Renati Descartes 
 Meditationes de prima Philosophia , in quibus Dei existentia 
 et animce a corpore distinctio demonstrantur. His adjunctce 
 sunt varice objectiones doctorum virorum ad istas de Deo et 
 animce demonstrationes cum responsionibus auctoris. The 
 Meditations were translated into French by the Due de 
 Luynes in 1647. The Principia Philosophies appeared at 
 Amsterdam in 1644. The Abb 4 Picot translated it into 
 French, 1647, Paris. The Traits des Passions de I'Ame 
 appeared at Amsterdam in 1649. 
 
 Regarding the Method of Descartes, Saisset has very 
 well said : <( It ought not be forgotten that in publishing 
 the Method, Descartes joined to it, as a supplement, the 
 Dioptrics, the Geometry, and the Meteors. Thus at one 
 stroke he founded, on the basis of a new method, two 
 sciences hitherto almost unknown and of infinite impor- 
 tance — Mathematical Physics and the application of Alge- 
 bra to Geometry; and at the same time he gave the pre- 
 lude to the Meditations and the Principles — that is to say, 
 to an original Metaphysic, and the mechanical theory of 
 the universe.” 
 
 The appearance of the Discours de la Mithode marked 
 an epoch not only in philosophy, but in the French 
 language itself, as a means especially of philosophical 
 expression. Peter Ramus, in his violent crusade against 
 Aristotle, had published a Dialectic in French, but it 
 was the Discours de la Mtthode of Descartes which first 
 truly revealed the clearness, precision, and natural force 
 of his native language in philosophical literature. The 
 use, too, of a vernacular tongue, immensely aided the 
 
4 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 diffusion and appreciation of the first great movement of 
 modern thought. 
 
 Descartes, though a self-contained and self-inspired 
 man, of marked individuality and a spirit of speculation 
 wonderful for its comprehensiveness, had not the out- 
 spoken boldness which we are accustomed to associate 
 with great reformers. He was not one, indeed, who 
 cared to encounter the powerful opposition of the Church, 
 to which by education he belonged. This is obvious from 
 many things in his writings. He avoided, as far as pos- 
 sible, the appearance of an innovator, while he was so in 
 the truest sense of the word. When he attacked an old 
 dogma, it was not by a daring march up to the face of 
 it, but rather by a quiet process of sapping the founda- 
 tions. He got rid also of traditional principles not so 
 much by direct attack as by substituting for them new 
 proofs and grounds of reasoning, and thus silently ig- 
 noring them. 
 
 One little incident of his life shows at once the char- 
 acter of the man and of the times in which he lived, 
 and the difficulties peculiar to the position of an original 
 thinker in those days. He had completed the manu- 
 script of a treatise De Mundo, and was about to send it 
 to his old college friend Mersenne in Paris, with a view 
 to arrange for its printing. In it he had maintained the 
 doctrine of the motion of the earth. Meanwhile (Novem- 
 ber, 1633), he heard of the censure and condemnation 
 of Galileo. This led him not only to stay the publica- 
 tion of the book, but even to talk of burning the manu- 
 script, which he seems to have done in part. Descartes 
 might no doubt have taken generally a more pronounced 
 course in the statement of his opinions; but, looking to 
 the jealous antagonism between the modern spirit repre- 
 sented by philosophy and literature on the one hand, 
 and the old represented by theology on the other, during 
 the immediately preceding period of the Renaissance and 
 in his own time, it is doubtful whether such a line of 
 action would have been equally successful in gaining 
 acceptance for his new views, and promoting the interests 
 of truth. An original thinker, with the recent fates of 
 Ramus, Bruno, and Vanini before his eyes, to say noth- 
 ing of the loathsome dungeon of Campanella, may be 
 excused for being somewhat over-prudent. At any rate, 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 5 
 
 it is not for us in these days to cast stones at a man of 
 his character and circumstances. In these times singu- 
 larity of opinion, whether it imply originality and judg- 
 ment or not, is quite as much a passport to reputation 
 with one set of people as the most pronounced orthodoxy 
 is with another. 
 
 Even in Holland, however, he was not destined to find 
 the absolute repose and freedom from annoyance which 
 he sought and valued so highly. The publication of the 
 Method brought down on him the unreasoning violence 
 of the well-known Voet (Voetius), Protestant clergyman 
 at Utrecht, and afterward rector of the university there. 
 With the characteristic blindness of the man of theo- 
 logical traditions, he accused Descartes of atheism. Voet 
 allied himself with Schook (Schookius), of Groningen. 
 The two sought the help of the magistrates. Descartes 
 replied to the latter, who, in a big book, had accused 
 him of scepticism, atheism, and madness. The influence 
 of Voet was such that he got the magistrates to prepare 
 a secret process against the philosopher. (< Their inten- 
 tion, ® says Saisset, <( was to condemn him as atheist and 
 calumniator: as atheist, apparently because he had given 
 new proofs of the existence of God; as calumniator, be- 
 cause he had repelled the calumnies of his enemies.® 
 The ambassador of France, with the help of the Prince 
 of Orange, stopped the proceedings. Descartes is not 
 the only, nor even the most recent instance, in which 
 men holding truths traditionally cannot distinguish their 
 friends from their foes. 
 
 Queen Christina of Sweden, daughter of the great 
 Gustavus Adolphus, had come under the influence of the 
 writings of Descartes. She began a correspondence with 
 him on philosophical points, and finally prevailed upon 
 him to leave Holland, and come to reside in Stockholm. 
 He reached that capital in October, 1649. The winter 
 proved hard and severe, and the queen insisted on hav- 
 ing her lecture in philosophy at five in the morning. The 
 constitution of the philosopher, never robust, succumbed 
 to the climate. He died of inflammation of the lungs, on 
 the nth February, 1650, at the age of fifty-four. In 
 1666 his remains were brought to France and interred 
 in Paris, in the church of Sainte-Genevikve. (< On the 
 24th June, 1667,® says Saisset, (< a solemn and magnifi- 
 
6 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 cent service was performed in his honor. The funeral 
 oration should have been pronounced after the service; 
 but there came an order from the Court [in the midst of 
 the ceremony] which prohibited its delivery. History 
 ought to say that the man who solicited and obtained 
 that order was the Father Le Tellier. " A finer illustra- 
 tion of contemporary narrowness before the breadth and 
 power of genius could not well be found. 
 
 In 1796, the decree made by the Convention three years 
 before, that the honors of the Pantheon should be ac- 
 corded to Descartes, was presented by the Directory to 
 the Council of the Cinq-Cents, by whom it was rejected. 
 It was thus that the national philosopher of France was 
 treated by ecclesiastic and revolutionist alike. 
 
 In 1819, the remains of Descartes were removed from 
 the Court of the Louvre, whither they had been trans- 
 ferred from Sainte-Genevi&ve, to Saint-Germain-des-Prds. 
 There Descrates now lies between Montfaucon and Ma- 
 billon. 
 
 II. Philosophy in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth 
 Centuries Preceding Descartes. 
 
 The first step in the continuous progress to the prin- 
 ciple of free inquiry, whose influence we now feel, was 
 taken in the fifteenth century. This epoch presented for 
 the first time in modern history the curious spectacle of 
 the supreme authority in matters of thought and faith 
 turned against itself. The principle of authority had 
 been consecrated by scholasticism. During its continu- 
 ance, intellectual activity was confined to methodizing 
 and demonstrating the truths or dogmas furnished to the 
 mind by the Church. No mediaeval philosopher thought 
 of questioning the truth of a religious dogma, even when 
 he found it philosophically false or indemonstrable. The 
 highest court of philosophical appeal in scholasticism 
 was Aristotle ; and the received interpretations of <( the 
 philosopher 9 had become identified with the dogmas 
 sanctioned by the Church, and therefore with its credit 
 and authority. But events occurred in the middle of the 
 fifteenth century which tended to disparage the Aristotle 
 of the Schools. Hitherto the writings of Aristotle had 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 7 
 
 been known in Europe only through Latin translations, 
 often badly and incompetently made from the Arabic 
 and Hebrew. The emigration of learned Greeks from 
 the empire of the East under the pressure of Turkish 
 invasion, and finally the fall of Constantinople in 1453, 
 led to the distribution of the originals of Aristotle over 
 Italy, and the spread of the Greek language in Western 
 Europe. With the knowledge thus acquired at first hand, 
 Pomponatius (1462-1524 or 1526) disputed the dogmas of 
 the Aristotle of the Schools and the Church. Hence- 
 forward the Aristotelians were divided into two Schools, — 
 the Averroists or traditional interpreters, and the fol- 
 lowers of “the Commentator, » Alexander of Aphrodisias. 
 Pomponatius was the head of the latter party. While 
 still recognizing his authority as the highest, Pomponatius 
 denied that the Aristotle which the Church accepted was 
 the true one. The real Aristotle, according to his view, de- 
 nied a divine providence, the immortality of the soul, and 
 a beginning of the world; or, as he sometimes put it, 
 Aristotle did not give adequate proof on those points. 
 The philosopher and the Church were therefore in con- 
 tradiction. This led to ardent discussion, — the opening 
 of men’s minds to the deepest questions, — the beginning, 
 in a word, of free thought. And there was also the 
 practical result, that the fifteenth-century philosopher de- 
 nied what he as a Churchman professed to believe, or 
 rather did not dare to disavow. It was obvious that the 
 course of thinking could not rest here. It must pass be- 
 yond this, urged alike by the demands of reason and the 
 interests of conscience. 
 
 But the inner spirit of scholasticism had pretty well 
 worked itself out. It was a body of thought remarkable 
 for its order and symmetry, well knit and squared, solid 
 and massive, like a mediaeval fortress. But it was in- 
 adequate as a representation and expression of the free 
 life that was working in the literature, and even in the 
 outside nascent philosophy, of the time. It was formed 
 for conservation and defense, not for progress. New 
 weapons were being forged which must inevitably prevail 
 against it, just as the discovery of gunpowder had been 
 quietly superseding the heavy panoply of the knight. 
 Several thoughtful men were already dissatisfied alike 
 with the Aristotle of the schoolmen and the manuscripts. 
 
8 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Opportunely enough, the circumstances which led to the 
 discovery of the original Aristotle led also to the reve- 
 lation of the original Plato. 'Some thinkers fell back on 
 the earlier philsopher, stimulated to enthusiasm by the 
 elevation of his transcendent dialectic. Notably among 
 these were Pletho (born about 1390, and died about 1490); 
 his pupil, Bessarion (1395 or 1389-1472); Giovanni Pico 
 della Mirandola (the nephew of Francisco, born 1463, 
 died 1494); Ficino, tutor to Lorenzo de Medici (1433- 
 1499); Patrizi (1529-1597). Influenced a good deal by 
 the spirit of mediaeval mysticism, these thinkers for the 
 most part clothed their Plato in the garb of Plotinus and 
 the Neo-Platonists. Others were led to the still earlier 
 Greek philosophers. The newly-awakened spirit of ex- 
 perience in Telesio (1508-1588) and in Berigard ( 1578- 
 1667) found fitting nourishment in the Ionian physicists; 
 and, later in the same line, Gassendi (1592-1655) revived 
 Epicurus. All this implied the individual right of select- 
 ing the authority entitled to credence, and was a protest 
 against scholasticism, and a step toward free inquiry. 
 
 The men of letters also helped to swell the tide rising 
 strong against scholasticism. The abstract and often 
 barbarous language of the schools appeared tasteless and 
 repulsive alongside the rhythmic diction of Cicero, and 
 the polished antitheses of Seneca. The spirit of imagin- 
 ation and literary grace had been repressed to the utmost 
 in the schools. It now asserted itself with the intensity 
 peculiar to a strong reaction. And in the knowledge 
 and study of the forms of the classical languages, the 
 mind is far beyond the sphere of mere deduction. It is 
 but one remove from the activity of thought itself. 
 
 Mysticism, always operative in the middle ages, and 
 indeed involved in the Neo-Platonism already spoken of, 
 came to its height in the period of the Renaissance — es- 
 pecially under Paracelsus, (1493-1541) and Cardan (1501- 
 1 5 76 ) — and then under Boehm (1575-1624) and the Van 
 Helmonts (father, 1577-1644, and son, 1618-1699). The 
 principle of transcendent vision by intuition was in direct 
 antagonism with the reasoned authority of scholasticism. 
 Boehm’s philosophy on its speculative side was an absolut- 
 ism which anticipated Schelling, and Hegel himself. The 
 self-diremption of consciousness is Boehm’s favorite and 
 fundamental point. The superstition which lay at the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 9 
 
 heart of the mysticism of the time, and which showed 
 itself practically in alchemy, led men by the way of 
 experiment to natural science, especially chemistry. 
 
 At length in the sixteenth century, and, as if to show 
 the extreme force of reaction, in Italy itself before the 
 throne of the Pope and the power of the Inquisition, 
 there arose in succession Bruno (b. about 1550, d. 1600), 
 Vanini (1581 or 85-1619), and Campanella (1568-1639) — 
 all deeply inspired by the spirit of revolt against authority, 
 and a freedom of thought that reached even a fantastic 
 license. Bruno in the spirit of the Eleatics and Plotinus, 
 proclaimed the absolute unity of all things in the inde- 
 terminable substance, which is God; Vanini carried em- 
 piricism to atheism and materialism ; and Campanella 
 united the extremes of high churchman and sensationalist, 
 mystical metaphysician and astrologist. 
 
 The thoughts of this period, from the fifteenth to well 
 on in the sixteenth century, have been described as <( the 
 upturnings of a volcano. ® The time was indeed the vol- 
 canic epoch in European thought. The principal figures 
 we can discern in it seem to move amid smoke and tur- 
 moil, and to pass away in flame. The tragic fate of 
 Bruno in the fire at Rome, and that of Vanini in the 
 fire at Toulouse — both done to death at the instance of 
 the vulgar unintelligence of the Catholicism of the time 
 — form two of the darkest and coarsest crimes ever per- 
 petrated in the name of a Church. The Church, which 
 claims to represent the truth of God, dare not touch with 
 a violent hand speculative opinion. It is then false to 
 itself. 
 
 In France, and in the university of Paris, the strong- 
 hold of Peripateticism, Ramus (15 15-15 72) attacked Aris- 
 totle in the most violent manner. In Ramus was 
 concentred the spirit of philosophical and literary antag- 
 onism to the schoolmen. It was wholly unmodified by 
 judgment or discrimination, and it did not proceed on a 
 thorough or even adequate acquaintance with the object 
 of its assault. Ramus is remarkable chiefly for the ex- 
 treme freedom which he asserted in oratorically denounc- 
 ing what he considered to be the principles of Aristotle ; 
 but he made no real advance either in the principles of 
 logical method which he professed, or in philosophy it- 
 self. At the same time, the rude intensity and the pas- 
 
IO 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 sionate earnestness of his life were not unworthily sealed 
 by his bloody death on the Eve of St. Bartholomew. 
 The death of Ramus, though attributed directly to per- 
 sonal enmity, was really a blow struck alike at Protest- 
 antism and the freedom of modern thought. 
 
 Bruno, Vanini, Campanella, and Ramus foreshadowed 
 Descartes and the modern spirit, only in the emphatic 
 assertion of the freedom, individuality, and supremacy 
 of thought. What in thought is firm, assured, and uni- 
 versal, they have not pointed out. They were actuated 
 mainly by an implicit sense of inadequacy in the current 
 principles and doctrines of the time. It was not given 
 to any of them to find a new and strong foundation 
 whereon to build with clear, consistent, and reasonable 
 evidence. Campanella said of himself not inaptly: <( I 
 
 am but the bell ( campanella ) which sounds the hour of 
 a new dawn. * 
 
 Alongside of those more purely speculative tendencies, 
 Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo, and Bacon represented the 
 new spirit and theory of observation applied to nature. 
 The formalism of the Schools had abstracted almost 
 entirely from the natural world. It was a * dreamland 
 of intellectualism.” And now there came an intense 
 reaction, out of which has arisen modern science. Bacon 
 had given to the world the Novum Organum in 1620, 
 seventeen years before the Method of Descartes, but his 
 precept was as yet only slightly felt, and he had but 
 little in common with Descartes, except an appeal to 
 reality on a different side from that of the Continental 
 philosopher. Descartes had not seen the Organum pre- 
 viously to his thinking out the Method. He makes but 
 three or four references to Bacon in all his writings. 
 
 If to these influences we add the spirit of religious 
 reformation, the debates regarding the relative authority 
 of the Scriptures and the Church, and mainly as a con- 
 sequence of the chaos and conflict of thought in the age, 
 the course of philosophical scepticism initiated by Cor- 
 nelius Agrippa (1486-1535), and made fashionable espe- 
 cially by Montaigne (1533-1592), and continued by Charron 
 (1541-1603), with its self-satisfied worldliness and its low 
 and conventional ethic, we shall understand the age in 
 which the youth of Descartes was passed, and the influ- 
 ences under which he was led to speculation. We shall 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 1 1 
 
 be able especially to see how he, a man of penetrating 
 and comprehensive intelligence, yet with a strong con- 
 servative instinct for what was elevating in morals and 
 theology, was led to seek for an ultimate ground of cer- 
 tainty, if that were possible, not in tradition or dogma 
 of philosopher or churchman, but in what commended 
 itself to him as self-verifying and therefore ultimate in 
 knowledge — in other words, a limit to doubt, a criterion 
 of certainty, and a point of departure for a constructive 
 philosophy. 
 
 III. The Cogito Ergo Sum — Its Nature and Meaning. 
 
 The man in modern times, or indeed in any time, who 
 first based philosophy on consciousness, and sketched a 
 philosophical method within the limits of consciousness, 
 was Descartes; and since his time, during these two 
 hundred and fifty years, no one has shown a more accu- 
 rate view of the ultimate problem of philosophy, or of 
 the conditions under which it must be dealt with. The 
 question with him is — Is there an ultimate in knowledge 
 which can guarantee itself to me as true and certain ? 
 and, consequently upon this, can I obtain as it were from 
 this — supposing it found — a criterion of truth and cer- 
 tainty ? 
 
 In the settlement of these questions, the organon of 
 Descartes is doubt. This with him means an exami- 
 nation by reflection of the facts and possibilities of con- 
 sciousness. Of what and how far can I doubt. I can 
 doubt, Descartes would say, whether it be true, as my 
 senses testify, or seem to testify, that a material world 
 really exists. I am not here by any necessity of thought 
 shut within belief. I can doubt, he even says, of mathe- 
 matical truths — at least when the evidence is not directly 
 present to my mind. At what point then do I find that a 
 reflective doubt sets limits to itself ? This limit he finds 
 in self-consciousness, implying or being self-existence. It 
 will be found that this method makes the least possible 
 postulate or assumption. It starts simply from the fact 
 of a conscious questioning; it proceeds to exhaust the 
 sphere of the doubtable; and it reaches that truth or 
 principle which is its own guarantee. If we cannot find 
 
12 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 a principle or principles of this sort in knowledge, within 
 the limits of consciousness, we shall not be able to find 
 either ultimate truth or principle at all. Philosophy is 
 impossible. 
 
 But the process must be accurately observed. There 
 is the consciousness — that is, this or that act or state of 
 consciousness — even when I doubt. This cannot be sub- 
 lated, except by another act of consciousness. To doubt 
 whether there is consciousness at a given moment, is to 
 be conscious of the doubt in that given moment; to be- 
 lieve that the testimony of consciousness at a given time 
 is false, is still to be conscious — conscious of the belief. 
 This, therefore, a definite act of consciousness, is the neces- 
 sary implicate of any act of knowledge. The impossi- 
 bility of the sublation of the act of consciousness, 
 consistently with the reality of knowledge at all, is the 
 first and fundamental point of Descartes. This it is very 
 important to note, for every other point in his philoso- 
 phy that is at all legitimately established depends on this : 
 and particularly the fact of the I ” or self of conscious- 
 ness. The reality of the (< I ® or (< Ego ® of Descartes is 
 inseparably bound up with the fact of the definite act 
 of consciousness. But, be it observed, he does not prove 
 or deduce the (< Ego ” from the act of consciousness ; he 
 finds it or realizes it as a matter of fact in and along with 
 this act. The act and the Ego are the two inseparable 
 factors of the same fact or experience in a definite time. 
 But as the consciousness is absolutely superior to subla- 
 tion, so is that which is its essential element or cofactor 
 — in other words, the whole fact of experience — the 
 conscious act and the conscious <( I ” or actor are placed 
 on the same level of the absolutely indubitable. 
 
 By <( I think ” or by (< thinking * Descartes thus does 
 not mean thought or consciousness in the abstract. It 
 is not cogitatio ergo ens, or entitas, but cogito ergo sum; 
 that is, the concrete fact of me thinking. That this is so, 
 can be established from numerous statements. “Under 
 thought I embrace all that which is in us, so that we 
 are immediately conscious of it. ” “A thing which thinks 
 is a thing which doubts, understands [conceives], affirms, 
 denies, which wills, refuses, imagines also, and perceives.” 
 Here thinking is as wide as consciousness; but it is not 
 consciousness in the abstract; it is consciousness viewed 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 13 
 
 in each of its actual or definite forms. From this it fol- 
 lows that the principle does not tell us what conscious- 
 ness is; it knows nothing of an abstract consciousness, 
 far less of a point above consciousness; but it is the 
 knowledge and assertion of consciousness in one or other 
 of its modes — or rather it is an expression of conscious- 
 ness only as I have experience of it — in this or that 
 definite form. 
 
 Arnauld and Mersenne in their criticism of Descartes 
 were the first to point out the resemblance of the cogito 
 ergo sum to statements of St. Augustin. Descartes him- 
 self had not previously been aware of thfese. The truth 
 is, he belonged to the school of the non-reading philoso- 
 phers. He cared very little for what had been thought 
 or said before him. The passage from Augustin which 
 has been referred to as closest to the statement of 
 Descartes is from the De Civitate Dei , 1 . xi., c. 26. It 
 closes as follows: (< Sine ulla phantasarium vel phantasma- 
 turn imaginatione ludificatoria , mihi esse me, idque nosse et 
 amare certissimum est. Nulla in his veris Academicorum 
 argumenta , formido dicentium : Quid, si falleris ? Si enim 
 fallor, sum. Nam qui non est, utique nec falli potest : ac 
 per hoc sum, si fallor. Quia ergo sum, qui fallor, quo- 
 modo esse me fallor , quando certum est me esse si fallor ? n 
 On this passage Descartes himself very properly remarks, 
 that while the principle may be identical with his own, 
 the consequences which he deduces from it, and its posi- 
 tion as the ground of a philosophical system, make the 
 characteristic difference between Augustin and himself. 
 The specialty of Descartes is that he reached this prin- 
 ciple of self-consciousness as the last limit of doubt and 
 made it then the starting-point of his system. There is 
 all the difference in his case, between the man who by 
 chance stumbles on a fact, and leaves it isolated as he 
 found it, and the man who reaches it by method — and, 
 with a full consciousness of its importance, develops it 
 through the ramifications of a philosophical system. To 
 him the fact when found is a significant truth as the 
 limit of restless thought; it is not less significant and 
 impulsive as a new point of departure in the line of 
 higher truth. 
 
 But what precisely is the relation between the cogito 
 and the sum? Is it, first of all, a syllogistic or an 
 
14 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 immediate inference ? Is the cogito ergo sum an enthymeme 
 or a proposition ? 
 
 There can be no doubt that Descartes himself regarded 
 it as a form of proposition, an intuition, not a syllogism. 
 In reply to Gassendi, who objected that cogito ergo sum 
 implies qui cogitat , est , — a pre-judgment, — Descartes says: 
 w The term pre-judgment is here abused. Pre-judgment 
 there is none, when the cogito ergo sum is duly con- 
 sidered, because it then appears so evident to the mind 
 that it cannot keep itself from believing it, the moment 
 even it begins to think of it. But the principal mistake 
 here is this, that the objector supposes that the cognition 
 of particular propositions is always deduced from univer- 
 sal, according to the order of the syllogisms of logic. 
 He thus shows that he is ignorant of the way in which 
 truth is to be sought. For it is settled among philos- 
 ophers, that in order to find it a beginning must always 
 be made from particular notions, that afterward the 
 universal may be reached; although also reciprocally, 
 universals being found, other particulars may thence be 
 deduced. ” Again he says : (< When we apprehend that 
 we are thinking things, this is a first notion which is not 
 drawn from any syllogism; and when some one says, 
 i think, hence i am, or i exist, he does not conclude 
 his existence from his thought as by force of some 
 syllogism, but as a thing known of itself; he sees it by 
 a simple intuition of the mind, as appears from this, that 
 if he deduced it from a syllogism, he must beforehand 
 have known this major, all that which thinks is or 
 exists. Whereas, on the contrary, this is rather taught 
 him, from the fact that he experiences in himself that it 
 cannot be that he thinks if he does not exist. For it is 
 the property of our mind to form general propositions 
 from the knowledge of particulars.” This is a clear 
 statement of the non-syllogistic nature of the principle, 
 and a distinct assertion of its intuitive character. It also 
 points to the guarantee of the principle — the experiment 
 of not being able to suppose consciousness apart from 
 existence — or unless as implying it. This and other 
 passages might have saved both Reid and Kant from 
 the mistake of supposing that Descartes inferred self- 
 existence from self-consciousness syllogistically or through 
 a major. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 IS 
 
 It is said that in the Principles Descartes represents 
 the cogito ergo suvi as the conclusion of a reasoning; the 
 major premise being that <( to nothing no affections or 
 qualities belong. ” (< Accordingly where we observe cer- 
 
 tain affections, there a thing or substance to which these 
 pertain, is necessarily found. ” Again, (< substance cannot 
 be first discovered merely from its being a thing which 
 exists independently, for existence by itself is not observed 
 by us. We easily, however, discover substance itself 
 from any attribute of it, by this common notion, that of 
 nothing there are no attributes, properties or qualities.” 
 It seems to me that there is nothing in these state- 
 ments, when carefully considered, to justify this asser- 
 tion. In fact, the second statement that substance or 
 being is not cognizable per se, disposes of any apparent 
 ground for the syllogistic character of the inference. 
 For this implies that the so-called major, as by itself 
 incognizable, is not a major at all. What Descartes 
 points to here, and very properly, is the original synthe- 
 sis of the relation of quality and substance. <( The com- 
 mon notion ” is the reflective way of stating what is 
 involved in the original primitive intuition ; and is as 
 much based on this intuition, as this intuition implies it. 
 He here approximates very nearly to a distinct state- 
 ment of the important doctrine that in regard to funda- 
 mental principles of knowing, the particular and the 
 universal are from the first implicitly given, and only 
 wait philosophical analysis to bring them to light. 
 
 But misrepresentation of the true nature of the cogito 
 ergo sum still continues to be made. 
 
 The { therefore, ’ ” says Professor Huxley, (< has no 
 business there. The ( I am 1 is assumed in the ( I think,’ 
 which is simply another way of saying < I am thinking. ’ 
 And, in the second place, ‘I think,’ is not one simple 
 proposition, but three distinct assertions rolled into one. 
 The first of these is ( something called I exists , ’ the second 
 is ( something called thought exists, ’ and the third is ( the 
 thought is the result of the action of the I. ’ The only one 
 of these propositions which can stand the Cartesian test 
 of certainty is the second. It cannot be doubted, for the 
 very doubt is an existent thought. But the first and 
 third, whether true or not, may be doubted, and have 
 been doubted; for the asserter may be asked, how do 
 
j6 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 you know that thought is not self-existent, or that a 
 given thought is not the effect of its antecedent thought 
 or of some external power ? ” 
 
 The <( therefore ” has business there, as seems to me, 
 until it is shown that immediate inference is no infer- 
 ence. The (< I am ” is not assumed in the <( I think, ” 
 but implied in it, and explicitly evolved from it. Then 
 the " I think, ” though capable of being evolved into a 
 variety of expressions, even different statements of fact, 
 is not dependent on them for its reality or meaning, but 
 they are dependent upon it. There are not three dis- 
 tinct assertions first, which have been rolled into one. 
 On the contrary, the meaning and possibility of any 
 assertion whatever are supplied by the <( I think ” itself. 
 "Something called I exists,” is not known to me before 
 I am conscious, but only as I am conscious. It is not a 
 distinct proposition. " Something called thought exists, ” 
 is not any more a distinct proposition, for the thought 
 which exists is inseparably my thought, and my thought 
 is more than the mere abstraction " thought. ” <( The 
 
 thought is the result of the action of the I ” is not a fair 
 statement of the relation between the (< I ” and thought, 
 for there is no ® I ” known, first or distinct from thought, 
 to whose action I can ascribe thought. The thought is me 
 thinking. And the existence of thought could never be 
 absolutely indubitable to me, unless it were my thought, 
 for if it be but thought, this is an abstraction with 
 which <( I ” have and can have no relation. " How do 
 you know that thought is not self-existent ? ” that is, 
 divorced from a me or thinker; for this reason simply, 
 that such a thought could never be mine, or aught to 
 me, or my knowledge. Thought, divorced from me or 
 a thinker, would be not so much an absurdity as a 
 nullity. (< How do you know that a given thought is 
 not the effect of its antecedent thought or of some ex-, 
 ternal power ? ” Because as yet I have no knowledge of 
 any antecedent thought, and if I had, I must know the 
 thought and its antecedent thought through the identity 
 of my consciousness ; and thus relate both to the I, ” 
 conscious, existing, and identical. And as to some ex- 
 ternal power, I must wait for the proof of it, and if I 
 ever get it, it must be because I am there to think the 
 proof, and distinguish it from myself as an external 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 1 7 
 
 power. And further, this external power can only be 
 known, in so far as I am conscions of it. Its known 
 existence depends on my consciousness, as one factor in 
 it, and therefore my consciousness could never be 
 absolutely caused by it. 
 
 The cogito ergo sum is thus properly regarded by Des- 
 cartes as a propostion. It is in fact, what we should now 
 call a proposition of immediate inference, — such that the 
 predicate is necessarily implied in the subject. The re- 
 quirements of the case preclude it from being advanced 
 as a syllogism or mediate inference. For in that case it 
 would not be the first principle of knowledge, or the first 
 stage of certainty after doubt. The first principle would 
 be the major — all that thinks is, or thinking is exist- 
 ing. To begin with, this is to reverse the true order of 
 knowledge ; to suppose that the universal is known before 
 the particular. It is to suppose also, erroneously, a 
 purely abstract beginning; for if I am able to say, I am 
 conscious that all thinking is existing, the guarantee 
 even of this major or universal is the particular affirma- 
 tion of my being conscious of its truth in a given time; 
 if I am not able to say this, then I cannot assert that all 
 or any thinking is existing, or indeed assert anything at 
 all. In other words, I can connect no truth with my being 
 conscious. I cannot know at all. 
 
 But what precisely is the character of the immediate 
 implication ? What is implied ? There are four possible 
 meanings of the phrase. 
 
 1. My being or existence is the effect or product of my 
 being conscious. My being conscious creates or produces 
 my being. Here my consciousness is first in order of 
 existence. 
 
 2. My being conscious implies that I am and was, be- 
 fore and in order to be conscious. 
 
 3. My being conscious is the means of my knowing 
 what my existence is, or what it means. Here my con- 
 sciousness is identical with my existence. My conscious- 
 ness and my being are convertible phrases. 
 
 4. My being conscious informs me that I exist, or 
 through my being conscious I know for the first time 
 that I exist. Here my being conscious is first in order 
 of knowledge. 
 
 With regard to the first of these interpretations, it is 
 
 2 
 
i8 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 obviously not in accordance with the formula. Implica 
 tion is not production or creation. But, further, it does 
 not interpret the sum in consistency with the cogito. If 
 I am first of all supposed to be conscious, I am supposed to 
 be and to exercise a function or to be modified in a par- 
 ticular form. It could hardly, consistently with this, be 
 said that (< I conscious ® produce or create myself, seeing 
 that I am already in being, and doing. This interpreta- 
 tion may be taken as a forecast of the absolute ego of 
 Fichte, out of which come the ego and the non-ego of con- 
 sciousness. There is no appearance of this having been 
 the meaning of Descartes himself. And, indeed, it is 
 not vindicable on any ground either of experience or reason. 
 
 With regard to the second interpretation, nothing 
 could be further from the meaning of Descartes. I am 
 conscious; therefore, I must be before I am conscious, 
 or I must conceive myself to be before I am conscious. 
 The inference in this case would be to my existence 
 from my present or actual consciousness, as its ground 
 and pre-requisite, as either before the consciousness in 
 time, or to be necessarily conceived by me as grounding 
 the consciousness. There are passages which seem to 
 countenance this interpretation — e. g., <( In order to think, 
 it is necessary to exist. » But in another passage he says, 
 that all that thinks exists can only be known by experi- 
 menting in oneself and finding it impossible that one 
 should be conscious unless he exist. This rather points 
 to the view that the I am of the formula is simply another 
 aspect of the I am conscious — not really independently 
 preceding it in time or in thought, but found inseparable 
 from it in reality, though distinguishable in thought. 
 That my existence preceded my consciousness, Descartes 
 would be the last to maintain; that I was before I was 
 conscious, he would have scouted as an absurdity. That 
 another Ego — viz, Deity — might have been, even was, 
 he makes a matter of inference from my being, revealed to 
 me even by my being. But existence in the abstract, or 
 existence per se as preceding me in any real sense, either 
 as a power of creation or self-determination — whether in 
 time and thought, or in thought only — he would have 
 probably looked on as the simple vagary of speculation. 
 He was opposed to the absolute ego as a beginning — 
 the starting-point of Fichte — which as above conscious- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 
 ness is above meaning. He was opposed equally to 
 abstract or quality-less existence as a starting-point, 
 which is that of the Logic of Hegel, whatever attempts 
 may be made to substitute for it a more concrete basis 
 — viz, consciousness. But for the intuitional knowledge 
 of myself revealed in a definite act, it is obviously the 
 doctrine of Descartes, and of truth, that I could not even 
 propose to myself the question as to whether there is 
 either knowledge or being; and any universal in knowl- 
 edge is as yet to me simply meaningless. 
 
 With regard to the third interpretation, it seems to me 
 not to be adequate to the meaning of Descartes, or the 
 requirements of the case. It either does not say so much 
 as Descartes means, or it says more than it professes to 
 say. If it be intended to say my consciousness means 
 my existence in the proper sense of these words, — i. e., 
 in a purely explicative or logical sense — we have ad- 
 vanced not one step in the way of asserting my exist- 
 ence. We have but compared two expressions, and said 
 that the one is convertible with the other. But we may 
 do this whether the expressions denote objects of expe- 
 rience or not. This is a mere comparison of notions ; and 
 Descartes certainly intended not to find a simple relation 
 of convertibility between two notions but to reach cer- 
 tainty as to a matter of experience or fact — viz, the 
 reality of my existence. This interpretation, therefore, 
 does not say so much as Descartes intends. But further, 
 if instead of a statement of identity or convertibility be- 
 tween two notions it says that the one notion — viz, my 
 being conscious — is found or realized as a fact, this is 
 to go beyond the mere conception of relationship between 
 it and another notion or element, and to allege the re- 
 ality of my being conscious in the first instance, and 
 secondly, its convertibility with my being. But in that 
 case the formula of Descartes does not simply say my 
 consciousness means my being. This interpretation might 
 be stated in the form of a hypothetical proposition. If I 
 am conscious, I am existing. But Descartes certainly 
 went further than this. He made a direct categorical 
 assertion of my existence. The decision of the question 
 as to what my existence is may be involved in the as- 
 sertion that it is, but this is secondary, and, it may be, 
 immediately inferential, but still inferential. 
 
20 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 We are thus shut up to the fourth interpretation 
 which, with certain qualifications, is, it seems to me, 
 the true one. 
 
 My being conscious is the means of revealing myself 
 as existing. In the order of knowledge, my being con- 
 scious is first; it is the beginning of knowledge, in time 
 and logically. But it is not a single-sided fact: it is 
 twofold at least. No sooner is the my being conscious 
 realized than the my being is realized. In so far at least 
 as I am conscious, I am. This is an immediate implica- 
 tion. But it should be observed that this does not imply 
 either the absolute identity of my existence with my 
 momentary consciousness, or the convertibility of my 
 existence with that consciousness. For the (< I conscious ® 
 or my being conscious, is realized by me only in a defi- 
 nite moment of time; and thus if my being were pre- 
 cisely identical and convertible with my being conscious 
 in a single moment of time, the permanency of my being 
 through the conscious moments would be impossible. 
 (< I ” should simply be as a gleam of light, which no 
 sooner appeared than it passed away, and as various as 
 the play of sunshine on the landscape. All, therefore, 
 that can be said, or need be inferred, is that my exist- 
 ence, or the me I know myself to be, is revealed in the 
 consciousness of a definite moment; but I am not enti- 
 tled to say from that alone that the being of me is 
 restricted to that moment, or identified absolutely with 
 the content of that moment. Nay, I may find that the 
 identity and continuity of the momentary ego are actually 
 implied in the fact that this experience of its existence 
 is not possible except as part of a series of moments or 
 successive states. In this case, there would be added to 
 the mere existence of the ego its identity or continued 
 existence through variety or succession in time. Thus 
 understood, the cogito ergo sum of Descartes is the true 
 basis of all knowledge and all philosophy. It is a real 
 basis, the basis of ultimate fact; it provides for the real- 
 ity of my conscious life as something more than a dis- 
 connected series of consciousnesses or a play of words ; it 
 opens up to me infinite possibilities of knowledge; 
 the reality of man and God can now be grasped by 
 me in the form of the permanency of self-conscious- 
 
 ness. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 21 
 
 IV. Cogito Ergo Sum — Objections to the Principle. 
 
 It has been objected to the formula of Descartes, that 
 it does not say what the sum or existo means; and fur- 
 ther, that existence per se is a vague, even meaningless 
 expression, and that to become a notion at all, existence 
 must be cognized in, or translated into, some particular 
 attribute, to which the term existence adds no further 
 meaning than the attribute already possesses. This two- 
 fold objection seems to me to be unfounded. 
 
 When it is said I am, it is not meant that I am in- 
 definitely anything, but that I am this or that, at a given 
 time. In consciously asserting that I am, I am con- 
 sciously energizing in this or that mode. I am knowing, 
 or I am feeling and knowing, or I am knowing and will- 
 ing. This is a positive form of being. I am not called 
 upon to vindicate the reality of existence as an abstract 
 notion or notion per se, or even in its full extension. I 
 merely affirm that in being conscious, I am revealed or 
 appear as an existence or being, — a perfectly definite 
 reality, but not all reality, — all possible or imaginable 
 reality, though participating in a being which is or may 
 be wider than my being. 
 
 Nor are the attempts that have been made to find the 
 express form of existence, which Descartes is held nec- 
 essarily to mean, more successful than the general criti- 
 cism. I exist is meaningless ® it is said, (< unless it be 
 convertible with, or translated into some positive attri- 
 bute.® (< I think, therefore I live® — this would be intel- 
 ligible. But Descartes’s answer to this would be very 
 much what he said in reply to Gassendi, who, following 
 precisely the same line of thought, suggested ambulo ergo 
 sum. Unless the living or the walking be a fact of my 
 consciousness, it is nothing to me, and is no part of my 
 existence or being. Life is wider than consciousness, — 
 at least if it is to be in any form identical with my being, 
 it must be conscious life, just as it must be conscious 
 walking. 
 
 But the second suggested interpretation is still worse. 
 (< I think, therefore, I am something® ( i. e., either sub- 
 ject or object, I do not know which). Nothing could be 
 
22 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 further from the meaning of Descartes than this, as is 
 indeed admitted, or from the truth of the matter. I am 
 not something, that is, a wholly indefinite. I am as I 
 think myself to be, as I am conscious in this or that 
 definite mode, as I feel, apprehend, desire, or will. 
 Being thus definitely conscious, I am not a mere inde- 
 terminate something. I am something simply because in 
 the first place I know myself to be definitely this thing 
 — myself. And as I know myself to be cognizant, I 
 know myself to be definitely the knower, or, if you will, 
 the subject. But the only object necessary to my knowl- 
 edge in this case is a subject-object, or one of my own 
 passing states. I require nothing further in the form of 
 a not-self, in order to limit and render clear my self- 
 knowledge. A mere sensation or state of feeling appre- 
 hended by me as mine is enough to constitute me a 
 definite something. 
 
 Besides the alleged vagueness or emptiness of the term 
 sum in the formula, there is a twofold objection, — one 
 that it is not a real inference; the other that it is not a 
 real proposition. It seems odd that it can be supposed 
 possible for the same person to object to it on both of 
 these grounds. It may be criticised as a syllogism, and 
 it may be criticised as a proposition ; but surely it cannot 
 be held to admit of both these characters. If it can be 
 proved to be not a real proposition to begin with, it is 
 superfluous to seek to prove it an unreal inference. 
 First, it is interpreted thus : I think, therefore I am 
 
 mind, — I am not the opposite of mind, I am a definite 
 or precise something. * It is alleged there is no real in- 
 ference here, for <( the meaning of think contains the 
 meaning of mind. ® * I think * only contains (< mind ® if 
 
 it be interpreted as meaning consciousness and all its con- 
 tents — if it means all the acts of consciousness and the 
 ego of consciousness. In this case the <( I think, I am 
 mind * would be no syllogistic or mediate inference. But 
 the statement would neither be tautological nor useless; 
 it would be a proposition of immediate certainty, in which 
 the subject explicated involved a definite being as another 
 aspect of itself. And this meets the objection to the 
 formula as a proposition. It is said to be not a real prop- 
 osition, seeing that the predicate adds nothing to the 
 subject. This, in the first place, is not the test of a real 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 23 
 
 proposition, or of what is essential to a proposition. A 
 proposition may be simply analytic, and yet truly a pro- 
 position. All that is necessary to constitute a proposition 
 is that it should imply inclusion or exclusion, attribution 
 or non-attribution. When I explicate four into the 
 equivalent of 1 1 1 1, I have not added to the meaning 
 of the subject, but I have identified a whole and its parts 
 by a true propositional form. I have analyzed no doubt 
 merely, but truly and necessarily, and the result appears 
 in a valid proposition. So starting from <( thinking ® in 
 the sense of consciousness, I analyze it also into act and 
 me, and permanent me, and I thus do a very proper and 
 necessary work. But I do more, for I assert definitude 
 of being in the thinking or consciousness, — and this, 
 though inseparable from it in reality, is at least distin- 
 guishable in thought. This constitutes a real predicate, 
 and a very important predicate, which excludes on the 
 one hand a mere act or state, mere (< thinking ” as apart 
 from a self or me, and an absolute me or self, apart from 
 an act of thought. It excludes, in fact, Hume on the 
 one hand and Fichte on the other. 
 
 But waving this, it is alleged that to say I think,® 
 is mere redundancy, seeing that <( I ® already means 
 <( thinking, * which is a function, among others, of man. 
 The proposition is therefore merely verbal or analytic. 
 But how do I know that “I® already means <( thinking, ® 
 or that thinking is implied in <( I * ? By some test or 
 other — by some form of experience. And what can this 
 be but by the (< I ® being conscious of itself as thinking ? 
 And what is this but falling back upon the principle of 
 the cogito ergo sum as the ultimate in knowledge ? 
 
 It seems further to be imagined that a real inference 
 could be got if the formula of Descartes were interpreted 
 as meaning a I think, therefore I feel, and also will, ® 
 for experience shows that these facts are associated. This 
 would give the formula importance and validity. Surely 
 there is a misconception here of what Descartes aimed 
 at, or ought to have aimed at. Before I can associate 
 experience, a I feel ® and (< I will ® with (< I think, ® I must 
 have the <( I think ® in some definite form. This must 
 guarantee itself to me in some way; that is the question 
 which must be settled first; that is the question regard- 
 ing the condition of the knowledge alike of feeling and 
 
24 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 willing. It was nothing to the aim of Descartes what 
 was associated in experience ; he sought the ultimate 
 form, or fact, if you choose, in experience itself, and his 
 principle must be met, not by saying that it only gives 
 certain real inferences through subsequent association and 
 experience, but by a direct challenge of the guarantee 
 of the principle itself — a challenge which indeed is incom- 
 patible with its being the basis of any real inference. 
 
 To the cogito ergo sum of Descartes it was readily and early 
 objected, that if it identified my being and my conscious- 
 ness, then I must either always be conscious, or, if con- 
 sciousness ceases, I must cease to be. Descartes chose 
 the former alternative, and maintained a continuity 
 of consciousness through waking and sleeping. As a 
 thinking substance, the soul is always conscious. Through 
 feebleness of cerebral impression, it does not always 
 remember. What wonder is it, he asks, that we do not 
 always remember the thoughts of our sleep or lethargy, 
 when we often do not remember the though of our 
 waking hours ? Traces on the brain are needed, to which 
 the soul may turn, and it is not wonderful that they are 
 awanting in the brain of a child or in sleep. That the 
 soul always thinks, was his thesis; and it was to this 
 point that the polemic of Locke was directed. Whether 
 consciousness be absolutely continuous or not — whether 
 suspension of consciousness in time be merely apparent, 
 — is a mixed psychological and physiological question. 
 But it is hardly necessary to consider it in this connection; 
 and Descartes probably went too far in his affirmative 
 statement, and certainly in allowing it as the only 
 counter-alternative. For consciousness must not be inter- 
 preted in the narrow sense of the conscious act merely, 
 or of all conscious acts put together. That would be an 
 abstract and artificial interpretation of consciousness. 
 That is but one side of it; and we must take into account 
 the other element through which this conscious act is 
 possible, and which is distinguishable but inseparable 
 from it. This is the <( I ® or <( Ego ® itself. When we 
 seek to analyze my being, or my being conscious, we 
 must keep in mind the coequal reality or necessary 
 implication of self and the conscious act, and keep hold 
 of all that is embodied in the assertion of the self by 
 itself. This we shall find to be existence in time in this 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 25 
 
 or that definite act or mode, and a continuous and 
 identical existence through all the varying and successive 
 modes of consciousness in time. The variation and 
 succession of the modes of consciousness do not affect 
 this identical reality, and no more need the suspension 
 do, even though the suspension of the mode were proved 
 to be absolute, and not simply such a reduction of degree 
 as merely to be below memory. 
 
 In our experience we find that after at least an apparent 
 absolute suspension of consciousness, the I, or self, on the 
 recovery of consciousness, asserts itself to be identical 
 with the I, or self, of the consciousness that preceded the 
 suspension. There is more than a logical or generic 
 identity. It is not that there is an (< I ® in consciousness 
 before the suspension and an (< I ® also after it ; but these 
 are held by us to be one and the same. The temporary 
 state of unconsciousness is even attributed to this iden- 
 tical (< I. * It is supposed to have passed through it. It 
 is quite clear, accordingly, that the being of the *1,® or 
 self, is somehow not obliterated by the state of uncon- 
 sciousness through which it passes. 
 
 It is here that psychology and physiology touch. The 
 bodily organism, living and sentient, is the condition and 
 instrument of consciousness. The temporary manifesta- 
 tion of consciousness is dependent on physical conditions. 
 Consciousness may be said to animate the body; and the 
 body may be said to permit the manifestation of con- 
 sciousness. But there is the deeper element of the Ego 
 or self which is the ground of the whole manifestations, 
 however conditioned Through a non-fulfilment of the 
 physical requirements, these manifestations may be abso- 
 lutely suspended, or at least they may sink so low in 
 degree, as to appear to be so; they may subside to such 
 an extent as not to be the matter of subsequent memory; 
 but the Ego may still survive, potentially if not actually 
 existent; capable of again manifesting similar acts of con- 
 sciousness, continuous and powerful enough to assert its 
 existence and individuality, in varying even conflicting 
 conscious states, and to triumph over the suspension of 
 consciousness itself. 
 
 The deductive solution which has been given of this 
 question does not meet the point at issue. It is said 
 that though I am not always conscious of any special act 
 
26 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 or state, I am yet always conscious: for, except in con- 
 sciousness, there is no Ego or self, and where there is 
 consciousness there is always an Ego. This self, there- 
 fore, exists only as it thinks, and it thinks always. To 
 say that the Ego does not exist except in consciousness, 
 and to say that it exists always, is to say either that 
 consciousness always exists, or to say that when conscious- 
 ness does not exist, the Ego yet exists, which is a simple 
 contradiction, or to say that consciousness being non- 
 existent, the Ego neither exists nor does not exist, which 
 is equally incompatible with its existing always. In fact, 
 the two statements are irreconcilable. If the Ego does 
 not exist except in consciousness, it can only exist when 
 consciousness exists; and unless the continued existence 
 of consciousness is guaranteed to us somehow, the Ego 
 cannot be said to exist always. If the statement is meant 
 as a definition of an Ego, the conclusion from it is tolerably 
 evident: in fact, it thus becomes an identical proposition. 
 An Ego means a conscious Ego; therefore there is no 
 Ego except a conscious one. Still, it does not follow that 
 there is always a conscious Ego, or that an Ego always 
 exists. The existence of the Ego in time at all is still 
 purely hypothetical, much more its continuous existence. 
 Such a definition no more guarantees the reality of the 
 Ego, than the definition of a triangle calls it into actual 
 existence. 
 
 But what is the warrant of this definition ? Is it a 
 description of the actual Ego of my consciousness ? Or 
 is it a formula simply imposed upon actual consciousness ? 
 It cannot be accepted as the former, for the reason that 
 it is a mere begging of the question raised by reflection 
 regarding the character of the actual Ego of conscious- 
 ness. The question is — Is it true or not, as a matter of 
 fact, that the Ego which I am and know now or at a 
 given time survives a suspension of consciousness ? It 
 seems at least to do so, and not to be merely an Ego 
 which reappears after the suspension. To define the 
 actual Ego as only a conscious Ego is to beg and fore- 
 close the conclusion to be discussed. The definition thus 
 assumes the character of a formula imposed, and arbitra- 
 rily imposed, upon our actual consciousness. 
 
 Let it be further observed that this doctrine does not 
 even guarantee the continuous identity of the Ego, 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 
 through varying successive states of consciousness. It 
 cannot tell me that the Ego of a given act of conscious- 
 ness is the one identical me of a succeeding act of con- 
 sciousness. All that it truly implies is that in terms of 
 the definition an Ego is correlative with a consciousness; 
 but it does not guarantee to me that the Ego of this 
 definite time is the Ego of the second definite time. It 
 might be construed as saying no to this, and implying 
 that logical identity is really all. But it does not, in fact, 
 touch the reality of time at all. This is an abstract defi- 
 nition of an Ego, and a hypothetical one. The Ego of our 
 actual consciousness may possess an identity of a totally 
 different sort from that contemplated in this definition; 
 and therefore, as applied to consciousness in time, it 
 either settles nothing, or it begs the point at issue. 
 
 In fact, it is impossible to dispense with the intuitions 
 of self-existence and continuous self-existence in time, 
 whatever formula we state. Our existence is greatly 
 wider than conciousness, or than phenomenal reality; we 
 are and we persist amid the varieties, suspensions, and 
 depressions of consciousness — a mysterious power of self- 
 hood and unity, which, while it does not transcend itself, 
 transcends at least its own states of being. 
 
 V. The Guarantee of the Principle. 
 
 Now, the question arises, What precisely is the guaran- 
 tee of this position, — the cogito ergo sum ? It may be 
 said simply individual reflection, individual test, trial, or 
 experiment, on the processes of knowledge — analytic 
 reflection carried to its utmost limit. But it may be urged 
 this is wholly an individual experience, and it cannot 
 ground a general rule or law for all human knowledge, 
 far less for knowledge in general. It is true that this 
 experiment of Descartes is an individual effort, and all 
 true philosophy is such. This is essential to speculation 
 in any form. The individual thinker must realize each 
 truth as his own and by his own effort. But it is possible 
 for the individual proceeding by single effort to find, and 
 to unite himself with, universal truth. Thus only, indeed, 
 can he so unite himself. It is the quickened intellect in 
 
28 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 living quest which makes the conquest. Doctrine held in 
 any other way, even when it is truth, is a sapless ver- 
 balism. Now, what is the law or ground of the conviction 
 that my being conscious is impossible unless as I am ? 
 Simply the principles of identity and non-contradiction, 
 evidencing themselves in a definite form and application 
 — asserting their strength, but as yet to Descartes only in 
 a hidden way — implicitly, not explicitly. My being con- 
 scious is my being — my being for the moment. If I try 
 to think my being conscious without also thinking my being, 
 I cannot. And as these are thus in the moment of time 
 identical, it would be a contradiction to suppose me being 
 conscious without me being. Thus is my momentary exist- 
 ence secured or preserved for thought. 
 
 Whether I can go beyond this and predicate the identity 
 of my being or of me as being all through successive 
 moments, is of course not at once settled by this position. 
 But it is not foreclosed by it, and it is open to adduce the 
 proper proof of the continuous identity, if this can be 
 found. 
 
 This, as seems to me, is what is implied as the guar- 
 antee of the first principle of Descartes. He has not 
 himself, however, developed it in this way, for the rea- 
 son chiefly that he did not recognize the principle of 
 Non-Contradiction as regulating immediate inference. 
 There is a little noticed but significant passage in which 
 he touches on this law, in a letter to Clerselier. Refer- 
 ring to that which we ought to take for the first prin- 
 ciple, he says: ® The word principle may be taken in 
 diverse senses, and it is one thing to seek a common 
 notion which is so clear and so general that it may serve 
 as a principle to prove the existence of all beings, the 
 entia which one will afterward know; and it is another 
 thing to seek a being, the existence of which is more 
 known to us than that of any others, so that it may 
 serve us as principle for knowing them. In the first 
 sense it may be said that it is impossible for the same 
 thing at once to be and not to be is a principle, and 
 that it may serve generally, not properly to make known 
 the existence of anything, but only to cause that when 
 one knows it one confirms the truth of it by such a 
 reasoning, — It is impossible that what is should not 
 
 be; BUT I KNOW THAT SUCH A THING IS; HENCE I KNOW 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 29 
 
 THAT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE IT SHOULD NOT BE. This is of 
 
 little importance, and does not make us wiser. In the 
 other sense, the first principle is that our soul exists, 
 because there is nothing the existence of which is more 
 known to us. I add also that it is not a condition which 
 we ought to require of the first principle, that of being 
 such that all other propositions may be reduced to and 
 proved by it; it is enough that it serve to discover sev- 
 eral of them, and that there is no other upon which it 
 depends, or which we can find before it. For it may be 
 that there is not any principle in the world to which 
 alone all things can be reduced; and the way in which 
 people reduce other propositions to this, — impossibile est 
 idem simul esse et non esse , — is superfluous and of no 
 use; whereas it is with very great utility that one com- 
 mences to be assured of the existence of God, and 
 afterward of that of all creatures, by the consideration 
 
 OF HIS OWN PROPER EXISTENCE. ® 
 
 This shows, on the whole, that Descartes had not fully 
 thought out his own position. He had most certainly 
 well appreciated the true scope of the principle of non- 
 contradiction, as incapable of yielding a single fact or 
 new notion. In this he showed himself greatly in advance 
 of many nineteenth-century philosophers. And he showed 
 also his thorough apprehension of the fact that the true 
 principle of a constructive philosophy lies not in mere 
 identity, or in the preservation of the consistency of a 
 thought with itself, but in its affording the ground of new 
 truths. His view is, that ere the principle of non-contra- 
 diction can come into exercise at all, something must be 
 known. And any one who really puts meaning into words 
 cannot suppose for a moment anything else. All this 
 should be fully and generously recognized as evidence of 
 a thoroughly far-seeing philosophical vision. At the same 
 time, he does not see the negative or preservative value 
 of the principle — and the need of it as a guard for the 
 fact of self-consciousness as being self-existence for the 
 moment, which he finds in experience. It is this prin- 
 ciple alone which, supervening on the intuition, makes it 
 definite or limited — a positive — shut out from the very 
 possibility of being identified with any opposite or neg- 
 ative, although this may be implied in its very con- 
 ception. 
 
3 ° 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The first truth of Descartes — being conscious, I am — 
 is thus not properly described as, in the first instance, a 
 universal in knowledge. It is a definite particular or in- 
 dividual fact, guaranteed by its necessity, by the impos- 
 sibility of transcending definite limits, and in this necessity, 
 or through the consciousness of it, is the universality 
 connected with the fact revealed. But for the conscious 
 necessity, I could never either know the universality, or 
 guarantee to myself this universality, for I have as yet 
 but knowledge of one actual case, whatever extension 
 my conception may assume in and through it; and but 
 for the necessity, I could never assert the universality 
 
 — BEING CONSCIOUS, I AM; BEING CONSCIOUS, EACH IS. 
 
 Descartes expressly anticipated this misapprehension, 
 and strove to correct it. Nothing can be more explicit 
 than his view that the necessity is first, and that this is, as 
 it can only be, the guarantee of the universality. If a 
 universal, it must be a mere abstract universal to begin 
 with, in which case it can be applied neither to my ex- 
 istence nor to my existence at a given time. It must be 
 a universal too, surreptitiously obtained, for it is a uni- 
 versal of thought and being which I have never known 
 or consciously realized in any individual case. And if I 
 have not done this, I cannot know it to be applicable to 
 any case, far less to all cases. It is thus an empty and 
 illegitimate abstraction, which can tell me nothing, be- 
 cause it wholly transcends any consciousness. 
 
 Further, the conviction which we get of the necessary 
 connection between self-consciousness and- self-existence 
 is not due to the knowledge of the general formulae 
 of identity and non-contradiction — viz, A is A, and 
 A = not-A = O. But, on the other hand, the necessity of 
 those formulae is realized by us in the definite instance 
 itself. This is as true and certain to us as is the general 
 formula or law which it exemplifies. Nay, we can only 
 in the instance find for ourselves or test the necessity of 
 the formula itself. We do not thus add to the certainty 
 of our conviction of the truth in the particular instance 
 by stating the general formula; we only draw out, as it 
 were, of the particular case, and then describe that most 
 general form on which reflection shows us this already 
 perfect conviction rests. It is, therefore, idlfe to talk of 
 evolving the particular truth from the universal formula; 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 31 
 
 for the latter is nothing to us until it is found exempli- 
 fied in the particular instance. Nor is it of any greater 
 relevancy to say that self-consciousness is deduced from 
 consciousness in general or the idea of consciousness ; for, 
 on exactly the same principle, we know nothing of such 
 a general consciousness unless as exemplified in this pri- 
 mary self-consciousness. This is as early in thought and 
 in time as the idea of consciousness in general, or of the 
 Ego in general, or an infinite self-consciousness, what- 
 ever such an ambiguous phrase may, according to the 
 requirements of an argument, be twisted to mean. 
 
 And this consideration should be fatal to the view or 
 representation that there is here a <( determination ” by 
 the thinker, or by (< thought ® which, by the way, seems 
 capable of dispensing with a thinker altogether. (< To 
 determine * is a very definite logical phrase, which has 
 and can have but one clear meaning. The mind deter- 
 mines an object when it classifies the materials of sense 
 and inward experience; and when, descending from higher 
 genera, it evolves species and individuals, through knowl- 
 edge of differences extraneous to the genera themselves. 
 Whatever be implied in these processes, it is clear at 
 least that <( determination w is a thoroughly conscious pro- 
 cess; and it is further a secondary or reflective process. 
 When we refer any given object to a class, and thus 
 fix or determine it for what it is, we suppose the pos- 
 session by us of a prior knowledge — knowledge of a class 
 constituted and represented by objects — and knowledge 
 too, of this or that object of thought, which we now refer 
 to the class. In this sense it is quite clear that Descartes 
 could not be supposed <( to determine * his experience, 
 either as to the conscious act, or as to the limits under 
 which it was conceivable by him, for his procedure was 
 initiative, and he is not gratuitously to be supposed in 
 conscious possession of knowledge before the single con- 
 scious act in which knowledge is for the first time realized. 
 Besides, determination implies a consciousness of gen- 
 erality — in this case even universality — of law and limit 
 of which he could not possibly be conscious, until he 
 became aware of them in the very act of his experimen- 
 tal reflection. Even the most general form of determin- 
 ation — that of regarding an object as such — can arise 
 into consciousness only reflectively through the first 
 
32 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 experience of this or that object in which the notion of 
 object is at once revealed and emphasized. Nay, if, ac- 
 cording to a possible but disputable interpretation of 
 Kant, perception being (< blind ® and conception <( empty, ® 
 the former is not a species of knowledge at all, and has 
 no separate object: and if conception be equally 
 
 void of object, and yet always needed to make 
 even an object of knowledge, determination is an 
 absurdity; for the understanding or mind as exercis- 
 ing this function must in this case be supposed 
 able to determine or clothe in category that which 
 is as yet not an object of consciousness at all. It must 
 be able to act, though it is assumed as entirely empty 
 and incapable of filling itself with content. There are 
 but two alternatives here — either the so-called (< mani- 
 fold of sensation ® is not matter of consciousness, or it 
 is. If the former, then the empty and uninformed un- 
 derstanding can make an object of what is not in any 
 way supplied to it — it can combine into unity what is 
 beyond consciousness itself ; or if this (< manifold * be in 
 consciousness by itself, it can be so without being known, 
 — consciousness of the manifold may exist without knowl- 
 edge of the manifold — that is, without knowledge of its 
 object. We have thus a complexus of absurdity. The 
 understanding can make a synthesis of a <( manifold }> which 
 is never within its ken ; and it can be conscious of a uni- 
 versal which, as the cofactor of the unconstituted ob- 
 ject, is not yet in knowledge. Nothing need be said of 
 the absurdity of describing (< the manifold ® of perception 
 when perception has no distinctive object at all, but re- 
 ceives its object from conception. And the <( manifold ® 
 of perception, while it supposes always a unity and a 
 series of points at least, is about the most inapplicable 
 expression which it is possible to apply to the sensations 
 of taste, odor, sound, and tactual feeling. In these, as 
 sensations, there is no manifold; each is an indivisible 
 attribute or unity. These may, no doubt, constitute 
 a manifold through time and succession; but they can 
 do so only on condition of being separately appre- 
 hended in time as objects or points. The manifold of 
 sense even cannot be a manifold of non-entities or un- 
 conscious elements. But the problem of analyzing object 
 or thing is an impossible one from the first. Of what is 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 33 
 
 ultimately an object for consciousness, we cannot state 
 the elements, without being conscious of each element 
 as an object. If we are not conscious of each element as 
 an object by itself, as distinguished from each other 
 element which enters into the object, we cannot know 
 what the elements are which make up any object of con- 
 sciousness. We have not even consciousness or knowl- 
 edge at all. We cannot specify either the mutual rela- 
 tions or the mutual functions of the elements. If we are 
 conscious of each element by itself and of its functions, 
 we have an object of knowledge, prior to the constitu- 
 tion of the object of knowledge — the only object sup- 
 posed possible. “Thing” or “object” or “being” is ul- 
 timately unanalyzable by us, seeing that our instrument 
 of analysis is itself only possible by cognizing thing or 
 being in some form, — by bringing it to the analysis. 
 What things are we can tell, — what sorts of things as 
 they stand in different relations to each other, and to 
 us; but the ground of the possibility of this is thing or 
 object itself, given in inseparable correlation with the 
 act of consciousness. 
 
 The truth is that this theory of determination proceeds 
 on the confusion of two kinds of judgments which are 
 wholly distinct in character, the logical and psycholog- 
 ical. The logical judgment always supposes two ideas of 
 objects known by us. It comes into play only after ap- 
 prehension of qualities, and is simply an application of 
 classification or attribution. The subject of the judg- 
 ment is thus determined as belonging to a class, or as 
 possessing an attribute; but subject, class, and attribute 
 are already in the mind or consciousness; only they are 
 as yet neither joined nor disjoined. This kind of judg- 
 ment is a secondary and derivative process, and has noth- 
 ing to do with the primitive acts of knowledge. The 
 psychological or metaphysical judgment, if the name be 
 retained, with which knowledge begins, and without 
 which the logical judgment is impossible — does not sup- 
 pose a previous knowledge of the terms to be united. 
 It is manifested in self-consciousness and in perception. 
 In it knowledge and affirmation of the present and mo- 
 mentary reality are identical. As I am conscious of 
 feeling, so I am affirming the reality of my consciousness 
 or existence. As I touch extension, so I affirm the reality 
 3 
 
34 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the object touched. In no other way can I reach the 
 reality either of self or not-self. To suppose that I reach 
 it by comparing the notions of self and existence, or of 
 extension and existence — is to suppose an absolutely ab- 
 stract or general knowledge of me and being, in the first 
 instance, that I may know, in the second instance, 
 whether I can join them together, and they therefore 
 exist. But this supposes that I can have this abstract 
 knowledge by itself, apart from individual realization. 
 It supposes also that I can have this before I know its 
 embodiment in the concrete at all, and finally it fails to 
 give me the knowledge I seek — for it only, at the 
 utmost, could tell me that the ideas of me and existence 
 are not incongruous or contradictory — whereas what I 
 wish to know is whether I actually am. On such a doc- 
 trine my existing must mean merely an ideal compati- 
 bility. 
 
 In a word, determination of things by thought, as it is 
 called, supposes a system of thought or consciousness. 
 It supposes the thinker to be in possession of notions 
 and principles, and to be consciously in possession of them. 
 Otherwise it is a blind and unconscious determination 
 done for the thinker, and not by him, and the thinker 
 does not know at all. But if the thinker is already in 
 possession of such a knowledge, we have not explained 
 the origin of knowledge or experience ; we have only re- 
 ferred it to a pre-existing system of knowledge in con- 
 sciousness. If, therefore, we are to show how knowledge 
 rises up for the first time, we must look to what is before 
 even this system. But before the general or generalized 
 — as an abstraction — we have only the concrete individ- 
 ual instance, — the act of consciousness in this or that 
 case. Either, therefore, we beg a system of knowledge, 
 or we do not know at all, or we know the individual as 
 embodying the general or universal for the first time. 
 
 The intuition of self and its modes no doubt involves 
 a great many elements or notions, not obvious at first 
 sight. It involves unity, individuality, substance, relation ; 
 it involves identity, and difference or discrimination of 
 subject and object, of self and state. These notions or 
 elements analytical reflection will explicitly evolve from 
 the fact, as its essential factors. Some are disposed to 
 call these presuppositions. I have no desire to quarrel 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 35 
 
 with the word. They are presuppositions in the sense of 
 logical concomitance, or correlation. The fact or real- 
 ity embodies them; they are realized in the fact. The 
 fact is, if you choose, reason realized. But they are 
 not presuppositions, in the sense of grounds of evolu- 
 tion of the fact in which we find them. They are in it, 
 and elements of it ; but the fact is as necessary to their 
 realization and known existence as they are to it. You 
 cannot take these by themselves, abstract them, set them 
 apart, and evolve this or that individuality out of them. 
 You cannot deduce the reality or individuality of an Ego 
 from them — the Ego I find in experience or conscious- 
 ness — because this very reality is necessary to their reali- 
 zation or being in thought at all. There is no relation 
 or subordination here. It is co-ordination, or better, the 
 correlation of fact and form, — of being and law of 
 being. 
 
 We can thus also detect how much, or rather how 
 little, truth there is in current Hegelian representations 
 of the first principle and position of Descartes in philos- 
 ophy, when we are told that (< Descartes is the founder 
 of a new epoch in philosophy because he enunciated the 
 postulate of an entire removal of presupposition. This 
 absolute protest maintained by Descartes against the 
 acceptance of anything for true, because it is so given 
 to us, or so found by us, and not something determined 
 and established by thought, becomes thenceforward the 
 fundamental principle of the moderns. ® (< An entire 
 removal of presupposition, ® if by that be meant of postu- 
 late, is not possible on any system of philosophy. No 
 presuppositionless system can be stated in this sense, 
 without glaring inconsistency. It is ab initio suicidal. I 
 must be there to think, that is, I must be conscious 
 where there is the possibility of either truth or error; 
 and the intelligible system developed must have an unde- 
 duced basis in my consciousness, guaranteed by that 
 consciousness. And in regard to the Hegelian or most 
 pretentious attempt of this sort, it could readily be shown 
 that the method or dialectic is in no way contained in 
 the basis, — or is even the native law of the deduction. 
 As such it is borrowed, not deduced. Definite thought 
 is always necessarily postulated ; otherwise there is neither 
 affirmation nor negation. This Descartes accepted ; and on 
 
36 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 this necessary assumption, in no way arbitrary, but self- 
 guaranteeing, his philosophy was based. 
 
 As to the phrase, <( something determined and estab- 
 lished by thought, » this is as inappropriate an expression 
 as could well be imagined. What is the (< thought ® 
 which determines or establishes things for us ? Is it 
 thought ® divorced from any consciousness ? Is it 
 thought realized by me in and through my consciousness ? 
 It is apparently not what is found or given, but what 
 determines or establishes. But is this a thing by itself, 
 this thought, — is it a power in the universe working 
 alone and by itself ? Apparently so. If thought deter- 
 mines and establishes things it is a very definite and prac- 
 tical power. But then do I, or can I, know this thought 
 which is obviously superior to me and the first act of 
 self-consciousness ? How can I speak of thought at all 
 as a determining power for me, when as yet I am neither 
 conscious nor existent ? If there were a system of knowl- 
 edge above knowledge, known to me — or a system of 
 thought above my thought, thought by me — or a con- 
 sciousness above my consciousness, of which, or in which, 
 I was conscious before my consciousness, — then I could 
 accept the determination by thought of all truth for me. 
 But as it is, until I can reconcile to the ordinary con- 
 ditions of intelligibility this fallacy of doubling thought 
 or knowledge, I must give up the experiment as a viola- 
 tion of good sense and reason. Determination by 
 thought either means that I am already in conscious pos- 
 session of knowledge (in which case I presuppose knowl- 
 edge to account for knowledge), or it means that 
 something called thought, which is not yet either me or 
 my consciousness, or even consciousness at all, deter- 
 mines me and my consciousness, in which case I cannot 
 know anything of this process of determination, for ex 
 hypothesi I neither am nor am conscious until I am 
 determined to be so. To know or be consciously deter- 
 mined by this thought, I must be in it actually and 
 consciously from the first, in which case I know before 
 I know, and I am before I am, or I must be in it 
 potentially from the first — that is, unconsciously, in 
 which case I am able to keep up all through the process 
 of determination a continuity of being between uncon- 
 sciousness and consciousness, and to retain a memory 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 37 
 
 of that which I never consciously knew. To connect 
 myself and my consciousness in this way with such a 
 determining thought, or something, is a simple impos- 
 sibility. 
 
 The fallacy in all this lies in the suggestion of the phrase 
 <( to determine.® This is ambiguous, or rather it has a 
 connotation which is fallacious, or helps fallacious thought. 
 To determine is ultimately to conceive, or limit by con- 
 ception — i. e., to attach a predicate to a subject. But 
 to determine may easily be taken to mean fixing as exist- 
 ent — not merely as a possible object of experience, but 
 as a real or actual object. And in this sense it is con- 
 stantly used — especially at a pinch when it is necessary 
 to identify the ideal possibility of an object of thought 
 with its reality. To assert existence of a subject, and to 
 inclose it in a predicate, are totally different operations. 
 As to object — we can ideally construct an object of 
 knowledge with all the determinations and relations 
 necessary. We can think it in time and space, and under 
 category — as quality, or effect, — but this does not give 
 us existence. This, considered in relation to the notion, 
 is a synthetic attribute ; and the so-called constitution of 
 the object; all its necessary conditions being fulfilled in 
 thought, gives us no more than a purely ideal object. 
 Existence we get and can get only through intuition. The 
 subject is some thing — some being — ere we determine it 
 by predicates. If it is ever to be real, it is already real. 
 No subsequent predication can make it so. The truth is, 
 that being is not a proper predicate at all. It is but the 
 subject — perceived or conceived — and is thus, as real or 
 ideal, the prerequisite of all predication. The Schoolmen 
 were right in making being transcendent — thafiis, some- 
 thing not included in the predicaments at all, but the 
 condition of predication itself. This, too, is virtually the 
 view of Kant, as shown in his dealing with the Ontolog- 
 ical argument. 
 
 To say that I determine knowledge by means of forms 
 of intuition, — as space and time,— and by category, or by 
 both, is thus to reverse the order of knowledge. Be- 
 sides, it is utterly impossible logically to defend this doc- 
 trine without maintaining that category, or the universal 
 in thought, or thought per se, is truly knowledge, — a 
 doctrine which in words is denied by the upholders of 
 
3 « 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 a priori determination, but in reality constantly proceeded 
 upon by them. But the spontaneous and intuitive act of 
 knowledge necessarily precedes the reflective and formu- 
 lating. Direct apprehension is the ground of self-evi- 
 dence ; testing by reflection proves space, time, and 
 category to be necessary; and, if necessary, universal in 
 our knowledge. 
 
 Self-evidencing reality, guarded by the principles of 
 identity and non-contradiction, is thus the ultimate result 
 of the Cartesian method, and the starting-point of specu- 
 lative philosophy. The basis proved a narrow one; and 
 the deductive system of propositions which he grounded 
 on it did not attain throughout even a logical consistency, 
 far less a real truth. But this does not affect the value of 
 his method, which is twofold — the intuition of the reality 
 of self as given in consciousness, and the limit set to 
 doubt by the principle of non-contradiction. 
 
 The most essential and perhaps the most valuable 
 feature in the philosophy of Descartes is thus seen to be 
 the affirmation involved in the cogito ergo sum of the 
 spontaneity of the primary act of knowledge. I am con- 
 scious is to me the first — the beginning alike of knowl- 
 edge and being; and I can go no higher, in the way of 
 primary direct act. Whatever I may subsequently know 
 depends on this — the world, other conscious beings, or 
 God himself. This is to me the revelation of being, and 
 the ground of knowledge. This was to found knowledge 
 on its true basis — conscious experience, and conscious 
 experience as in this or that definite form — of feeling, 
 perceiving, imagining, willing. Even though Descartes 
 had gone no further than this, he inaugurated a method, 
 an organon of philosophy, which, if it be abandoned by 
 the speculative thinker, must leave him open to the 
 vagaries of abstraction, to the mythical creation of (< pure 
 thought, w — i. e., of reasoning divorced from experience. 
 The least evil of this process is that it is a travesty of 
 reasoning itself — that conclusions are attached to prem- 
 ises, and not drawn from them — and the whole process 
 is an illegitimate personification of abstractions. Descartes 
 properly laid down the principle that knowledge springs 
 out of a definite act of a conscious being, self revealed 
 in the conscious act. He did not stop to analyze the 
 whole elements of this act, or to set forth the conditions 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 39 
 
 of its possibility, or to analyze the conditions of the thing 
 or (< object” of which the self-conscious being takes cog- 
 nizance, or to consider how the conscious act has arisen, 
 — whether out of the indeterminate, or out of determinate 
 conditions. He had neither full analysis nor hypothesis 
 on these points; and as to the last, he was right, for he 
 saw clearly that conscious experience in a given mode 
 must be, ere any of these questions can even be con- 
 ceived or determined. And had some of those who have 
 since followed out these lines of inquiry, fully appreciated 
 and truly kept in view the Cartesian position of a posi- 
 tive experiential act as the necessary basis of all knowl- 
 edge by us, they would have kept their analysis of its 
 conditions closer to the facts, and they would have seen 
 also that no starting-point in a so-called (< universal, ® or 
 in thought above this conscious experience, is at all pos- 
 sible ; that knowledge by <( determination ” is a mere dream 
 and an illegitimate doubling of knowledge or conscious- 
 ness; that at the utmost, in this respect, knowledge never 
 can rise beyond mere correlation of particular and uni- 
 versal; and that, both in philosophy and in science, 
 knowledge grows and is consolidated, not through <( re- 
 thinking ” or <( reasoning out ” of experience, but through 
 a patient study of the conditions of experience itself, in 
 succession and coexistence — a study in which the indi- 
 viduality of human life and effort matches itself in but 
 a feeble, yet not unsuccessful way, against the infinity 
 of time and space. This, too, would have prevented the 
 mistake of supposing that the only critical, analytic, and 
 reflective, in a word, philosophical, thought is that which 
 accepts or finds a formula, within which our experience 
 must be compressed or discarded as unreal, with the risk, 
 actually incurred, of sacrificing what is most vital in that 
 experience. 
 
 VI. The Criterion of Truth. 
 
 Descartes sought to evolve a criterion of truth from 
 the first indubitable position. This was the clearness and 
 distinctness of knowledge. He has defined this test in 
 the following words : I call that clear which is present 
 
 and manifest to the mind giving attention to it, just as 
 
40 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 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. w 
 
 This test is evidently derived from reflection on intu- 
 itional knowledge. It is involved in his first truth, but it 
 is not the sole guarantee of that truth; for this, as we 
 have seen, is ultimately non-contradiction. His first truth 
 could hardly be taken as affording the strict conditions of 
 all truth, for in this case truth would need to be both 
 direct and necessary. Certain principles might be so, but 
 even in respect of them, it would exclude the idea of 
 derivation and subordination, and lead to the idea of 
 independent reality and guarantee. And the test would 
 exclude all derivative knowledge, even when it was hypo- 
 thetically necessary. Further, if it were set up as the 
 absolute standard of truth, contingent or probable truth 
 would be altogether excluded from the name. Descartes 
 thus contented himself with the general statement of 
 clearness and distinctness; and his first truth is accepted 
 in its fullness as simply the basis of deduction — as the 
 ground whence he may proceed to build up a philosophy 
 of God and the material non- Ego. 
 
 The criterion is, however, ambiguous in its applications. 
 When it is said that whatever we clearly and distinctly 
 conceive is true, we may mean that it is possible — i. e., 
 an ideal possibility; or we may mean that it is real — i. e ., 
 a matter of fact or existence. And Descartes has not 
 always carefully distinguished those senses of the word 
 true — as, for example, in his proof of the being of Deity 
 from the notion. If we take the formula in the latter 
 sense, we are led to identify truth with notional reality 
 and its relations — thought with being. 
 
 The best criticism of the Cartesian criterion is unques- 
 tionably that given by Leibnitz in his famous paper — 
 « Meditationes de Cognitione , Veritate, et Ideis . w He indi- 
 cates with singular felicity the various grades of our 
 conceptual knowledge. Cognition is obscure, when the 
 object is not distinguished from other objects or the objects 
 around it. Here the object is a mere something — not 
 nothing; but what it precisely is, either in its own class 
 of things or as contrasted with other things, we do not 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 4i 
 
 apprehend. Cognition, again, is clear, when we are able 
 definitely to comprehend the object as in contradistinction 
 from others. Clear cognition is further divided into Con- 
 fused and Distinct. It is confused when we are unable 
 to enumerate the marks or characters by which the object 
 is discriminated from other objects, while it yet possesses 
 such marks. Thus we can distinguish colors, odors, 
 tastes, from each other; yet we cannot specify the marks 
 by which we do so. At the same time such marks must 
 exist, seeing the objects are resolvable into their respect- 
 ive causes. Our knowledge, again, is distinct when we 
 can specify the discriminating marks, as the assayers in 
 dealing with gold; and as we can do in the case of num- 
 ber, magnitude, figure. But distinct knowledge may still 
 further be Inadequate or Adequate. It is inadequate 
 when the discriminating marks are not analyzed or resolved 
 into more elementary notions, being sometimes clearly 
 and sometimes confusedly thought — as for example, the 
 weight and color of gold. Knowledge, again, is adequate 
 when the marks in our distinct cognition are themselves 
 distinctly thought — that is, carried back by analysis to 
 an end or termination. Whether any perfect example 
 of this exists is, in the view of Leibnitz, doubtful. Num- 
 ber is the nearest approach to it. Then there is the 
 distinction of the Blind or Symbolical and the Intuitive 
 in cognition — the former being the potentiality of con- 
 ception which lies in terms ; the latter being the clear and 
 distinct or individual picture of each mark so lying unde- 
 veloped. When cognition is at once adequate and intui- 
 tive, it is Perfect. But Leibnitz here at least hesitates 
 to say whether such can be realized. To distinct cognition 
 there attaches Nominal Definition. This is simply the 
 evolution of the distinct knowledge, the drawing out of 
 the marks which enable us to distinguish an object from 
 other objects. But deeper than this lies Real Definition. 
 This makes it manifest that the thing conceived or alleged 
 to be conceived is possible. This test of the possible is 
 the absence of contradiction in the object thought; the 
 proof of the impossible is its presence. Possibility is 
 either a priori or a posteriori — the former, when we 
 resolve a notion into other notions of known possibility; 
 the latter, when we have experience of the actual exist- 
 ence of the object; for what actually exists is possible. 
 
42 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Adequate knowledge involves cognition through means of 
 a priori possibility. It involves analysis carried through 
 to its end. But Leibnitz hesitates to say that adequate 
 cognition is within our reach. (< Whether such a perfect 
 analysis of notions can ever be accomplished by man — ■ 
 whether he can lead back his thoughts to first possibles 
 (prima possibilia) and irresolvable notions, or, what comes 
 to the same thing, to the absolute attributes of God 
 themselves, viz, the first causes, — I do not now dare to 
 determine.” 
 
 Leibnitz properly applies his distinction of nominal and 
 real definition to the Cartesian proof of the reality of 
 Deity from the notion of the most perfect being. This 
 he says is defective as a proof in the hands of Des- 
 cartes. It would be correct to say that God necessarily 
 exists, if only he is first of all posited as possible. So 
 long as this is not done, the argument for his existence 
 does not amount to more than a presumption. But Des- 
 cartes has either relied on a fallacious proof of the pos- 
 sibility of the divine existence, or he has endeavored to 
 evade the necessity of proving it. That this proof can be 
 supplied Leibnitz believes, and with this preliminary 
 requisite fulfilled, he accepts the Cartesian argument. 
 
 It is obvious that the proper position of the criterion 
 of Leibnitz as given in the real definition is at the very 
 beginning of a system of knowledge. Possibility, or 
 the absence of contradiction, underlies, in fact, clear- 
 ness and distinctness. It is essential to the unity of any 
 object of thought. The furthest point in abstraction 
 to which we can go back is some being or some object, 
 — something as opposed to nothing or non-being. But 
 even this something must be at least definitely thought 
 or distinguished from its contradictory opposite non-being 
 or nothing. If it were not, the knowledge would be im- 
 possible. Its reality as a positive notion depends on this. 
 Nay, even the negation, non-being or nothing, depends 
 for any meaning it possesses on the positive being an ob- 
 ject of knowledge The correlation here is not between 
 two definite elements; one known as positive, the other 
 as negative; there is correlation, but there is no corre- 
 ality. The negative side is satisfied by mere negation, 
 as in the parallel case of one and none. And no recon- 
 ciling medium is conceivable — none is possible to thought. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 43 
 
 If so, let it be named. To galvanize the negative into a 
 positive in such a case, and call it synthetic thought, is 
 simply to baptize the absurd. This solid advance on 
 Descartes is virtually due to the acute and accurate mind 
 of Leibnitz. It is our main safeguard against fantastic 
 speculation. 
 
 The most liberal, and probably the fairest interpreta- 
 tion of the criterion of Descartes is, that it is the asser- 
 tion of the need of evidence, whatever be its kind, as 
 the ground of the acceptance of a statement or proposi- 
 tion. As such, it is the expression of the spirit of the 
 philosophy of Descartes, and of the spirit also of modern 
 research. As evidence must make its appeal to the indi- 
 vidual mind, it may be supposed that this principle leads 
 to individualism in opinion. This is certainly a possible 
 result, but it is not essential to the principle. Evidence 
 may be, nay, is at once individual and universal. The 
 individual consciousness may realize for itself what is 
 common to all ; and indeed has not reached ultimate evi- 
 dence until it has done so. And, however important may 
 be the place of history, language, and social institutions 
 in the way of a true and complete knowledge of mind or 
 man, even these must appeal in the last resort to the con- 
 scious laws and processes of evidence, as embodied in 
 the individual mind. 
 
 From his virtually making truth lie in a definite and 
 high degree of conscious activity, Descartes was naturally 
 led to regard error as more or less a negation, or rather 
 privation. This idea he connects with Deity. Error is a 
 mere negation, in respect of the Divine action; it is a 
 privation in respect of my own action, inasmuch as I 
 deprive myself by it of something which I ought to have 
 and might have. 
 
 He thus develops his doctrine of Error. 
 
 1. When I doubt, I am conscious of myself as an incom- 
 plete and dependent being ; along with this consciousness, 
 or, as we would now say, correlatively with it, I have the 
 idea of a complete and independent Being — that is, God. 
 This idea being in my consciousness, and I existing, the 
 object of it — God — exists. 
 
 2. The faculty of judging, which I possess as the gift 
 of a perfect being, cannot lead me into error, if I use it 
 aright. Yet it is true that I frequently err, or am 
 
44 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 deceived. How is this consistent with my faculty of judg* 
 ing being the gift of a perfect God ? 
 
 3. (< I have in my consciousness not only a real and 
 
 positive idea of God, but a certain negative idea of 
 nothing — in other words, of that which is at an infinite 
 distance from every sort of perfection; and a conception 
 that I am, as it were, a mean between God and nothing, 
 or placed in such a way between absolute existence and 
 non-existence, that there is in truth nothing in me to lead 
 me into error, in so far as an absolute being is my creator. 
 On the other hand, as I thus likewise participate in some 
 degree of nothing or of non-being — in other words, as I 
 am not myself the Supreme Being, and as I am wanting 
 in every perfection, it is not surprising I should fall into 
 error. And I hence discern that error, so far as error, 
 is not something real, which depends for its existence on 
 God, but is simply defect. . . . Yet <( error is not a 
 
 pure negation [in other words, it is not the simple defi- 
 ciency or want of some knowledge which is not due ] but 
 the privation and want of what it would seem I ought to 
 possess. . . . Assuredly God could have created me 
 
 such that I should never be deceived. ... Is it 
 better then, that I should be capable of being deceived 
 than that I should not ? ® 
 
 4. The answer to this is twofold. First, I, as finite, am 
 incapable of comprehending always the reasons of the 
 Divine action; and, secondly, what appears to be imper- 
 fection in a creature regarded as alone in the world, 
 may not really be so, if the creature be considered as 
 occupying <( a place in the relation of a part to the great 
 whole of His creatures.® What precisely that relation is, 
 Descartes does not undertake to specify. This solution 
 of the difficulty is, therefore, only problematical. 
 
 5. As a matter of observation, error depends on the 
 concurrence of two causes, to wit — Knowledge and Will. 
 By the Understanding alone, I neither affirm nor deny; 
 but merely apprehend or conceive ideas. It is Judg- 
 ment which affirms or denies. And here we must dis- 
 tinguish between non-possession and privation. There 
 may be, and are, innumerable objects in the universe of 
 which I possess no ideas. But this is simple non-posses- 
 sion; it arises from my finitude. It is not privation, for 
 it cannot be shown to be the keeping or taking away 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 45 
 
 from me of what I ought to have. The form or essence of 
 error lies not in non-possession, but in privation. So far 
 as Deity is concerned, this non-possession on my part of 
 certain ideas is properly negation, not privation; for it is 
 not properly a thing or existence. It is merely that 
 Deity, in determining my knowledge, has allowed that 
 knowledge a definite sphere of possibility, and restricted 
 it from objects beyond. But as I never had, or can be 
 shown to have had, any a priori right to more than I 
 have actually got, there never was in respect of me any 
 privation. 
 
 6. Again, there are objects which are not clearly and 
 distinctly apprehended by the Understanding. This may 
 be a mere temporary state of mind, which is capable of 
 being removed by clear and distinct knowledge. These 
 two facts, then, that in some quarters there is no knowl- 
 edge, and that knowledge is in some cases not clear or 
 distinct, render error possible. For the power of will, 
 which is wider than the understanding — in fact, abso- 
 lutely unlimited, unlike the other faculties — may force 
 on a- judgment either in the absence of knowledge, or 
 with imperfect knowledge. Hence error; and hence also, 
 in the case of good and evil, sin; for error and sin are 
 both ultimately products of free will. Descartes holds 
 very strongly and definitely in regard to will that it is 
 a faculty (< which I experience to be so great, that I am 
 unable to conceive the idea of another that shall be more 
 ample and extended; so that it is chiefly my will 
 which leads me to discern that I bear a certain 
 image and similitude of Deity.® The will consists only 
 of a single and indivisible element; hence nothing can 
 be taken from it without destroying it. Its power lies 
 in this, that we are able to do or not to do the same 
 thing; or rather, that in affirming or denying, pursuing 
 or shunning, what is proposed to us by the understand- 
 ing, we so act that we are not conscious of being deter- 
 mined to a particular action by any external force. Its 
 essence is not, however, in indifference in respect to the 
 same thing; this is the lowest grade of liberty. On the 
 contrary, the greater degree of knowledge the mind 
 possesses as to one of the alternatives, and the conse- 
 quently greater inclination of the will to adopt that 
 alternative, the more freedom there is; freedom consist- 
 
46 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 ing ultimately in a consciousness of not being determined 
 to a particular action by any external force. It is, in a 
 word, great clearness of the understanding, followed by 
 strong inclination in the will. As, however, we do not 
 always wait for this condition, but determine affirmatively 
 or negatively, or pursue and shun, without it, we fall 
 into error or sin. 
 
 Error is thus no direct consequence of finitude; only 
 the possibility of it is so. It is properly to be regarded 
 as the result of privation, and this is my own wilful act. 
 It should, however, be observed here, that Descartes’s 
 positions regarding the will do not appear to be consist- 
 ent. The two definitions of liberty which he gives are 
 exclusive of each other. We cannot be conceived abso- 
 lutely free in respect of two given alternatives, and yet 
 free when the inclination of the will follows the greater 
 clearness of the Understanding. The former is the lib- 
 erty of indifference; the latter is simply that of spon- 
 taneity, — the spontaneity being relative to a previous 
 or conditioning state of the consciousness. 
 
 It is further clear from the statements now quoted, 
 that Descartes did not regard the Ego of consciousness 
 as either a negation, non-entity, or illusion, as is repre- 
 sented, but a very definite and real positive — a mean, 
 as he puts it, between absolute existence on the one side, 
 and non-existence on the other. He certainly did not 
 hold that the finite consciousness, so far as finite is either 
 an error or an illusion. On the contrary, it is with him 
 the basis of the very possibility of knowledge, and the 
 type and warrant of a higher consciousness. And what 
 other ground is possible ? If the finite by itself be re- 
 garded as an illusion, and the infinite by itself be 
 regarded as the same, it is curious to find that the two 
 together make up reality. In this case, the relation be- 
 tween infinite and finite may be assumed as the true 
 reality. So long as we hold the relation in conscious- 
 ness, infinite and finite are known, and therefore real. 
 But ere we can make this out, we must vindicate the 
 possibility of a conscious relation between two terms, in 
 themselves incognizable, non-existent, or illusory. Being 
 must thus mean a groundless relation suspended in vacuo. 
 
 Nor is there anything special to his doctrine of Error 
 which logically compels him to hold those conclusions. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 47 
 
 Principles of inference entirely foreign to his system and 
 habit of thought may be assumed, and conclusions of this 
 sort thus forced on his premises. It may, for example, 
 be said, with Spinoza, that “ determination is negation,® 
 and that the finite, as finite, is a mere negation or non- 
 entity ; because it is a negation of the absolute substance, 
 or of an Infinite Ego, or Infinite Self-consciousness — 
 whatever ambiguity such phrases may be supposed to 
 cover. But this may be said of any doctrine whatever 
 which recognizes the Ego of consciousness as simply a 
 fact or reality. And the principle of every determination 
 being a negation is neither unambiguous nor self-evident ; 
 in several senses, it is rather self-condemned. It stands in 
 need, at least, of thorough and precise vindication ere it 
 is of use' in any process of inference. In this application, 
 at any rate, it will be hard to show its consistency. We 
 must have the proof, in the first instance, of the Absolute 
 Substance or Infinite Ego which the being of the finite 
 Ego negates. Is it said that the Infinite Ego is the nec- 
 essary correlate of the finite Ego ? What, then ? Does 
 this correlation imply that the correlate or Infinite Ego 
 is real in the sense in which the Ego of consciousness 
 is real ? Or rather even, as it seems to be inferred, does 
 it necessarily imply that the Ego of consciousness discovers 
 itself not to be what it at first is conscious that it is, and 
 is really only a mode of this truly existing Infinite Ego ? 
 These are points in the logic of the process which ought 
 not to be passed over without notice or vindication. And 
 even if we get somehow the length or the height of the 
 so-called Infinite, we must then ask whether the Infinite 
 Ego means merely the abstract notion of an Ego, or 
 whether it means a self-conscious Ego that actually per- 
 vades all being. If the former, the so-called determina- 
 tion is but an instance of the contemporary realization of 
 the individual fact and the general notion. If the latter, 
 it is impossible that there can be a finite Ego at all. It 
 is not possible even in correlation. But, secondly, the 
 result is not either possible or consistent. If the definite 
 Ego of consciousness loses hold of its determination or 
 limitation, it loses hold of itself — it no longer is; if it 
 retains its limit or determination, it is not the Infinite 
 Ego; if it commits the absurdity of losing hold of it and 
 yet retaining it, it loses hold of itself, but does not become 
 
48 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the Infinite Ego ; in plain words, the (< I » of our conscious- 
 ness cannot be both man and God. That the finite con- 
 sciousness is the infinite or divine consciousness is asserted 
 on such a principle ; it is as far from proof as ever it was. 
 
 VII. The Ego and the Material World. 
 
 On this point the doctrine of Descartes may be sum- 
 marily stated. 
 
 We have, in the first place an assured world of conscious- 
 ness with the Ego as its centre, — the centre of thoughts 
 and ideas. But Descartes recognizes, as he must, the 
 knowledge of extension or an extended object, — of a thing 
 filling space. This knowledge is in the consciousness. 
 How is it got? From the senses somehow. But what 
 precisely is the knowledge the senses give us of the 
 material non-Ego ? Have we as direct a knowledge of it 
 as we have of consciousness and its modes ? In the view 
 of Decartes certainly not. The extended does not guar- 
 antee its own existence, as the consciousness does. We 
 are not at once involved in self-contradiction, in denying 
 its reality, as we are in the case of our consciousness. The 
 extended is known through idea or representation ; and it 
 is the problem of Cartesianism to vindicate the reality on 
 the ground of the idea, to show that outside of conscious- 
 ness, as it were, there is an object corresponding to idea 
 in the circle of consciousness itself. 
 
 Herein lies the so-called dualism of Descartes; but, in 
 point of fact, it is but one form of his dualism, for there 
 is with him the contrast between the finite Ego and God, 
 and this is as much a dualism as the contrast between 
 consciousness and extension. But the position of Descartes 
 in relation to mind and matter is that, on the one hand, 
 there is consciousness; on the other, there is extension, 
 implying or rendering possible figure and motion. Accept- 
 ing these as the only possible qualities of matter, Descartes 
 sought to show how all the phenomena of the material 
 universe might be produced, and according to the notional 
 method of his philosophy at once inferred that they 
 actually were so produced. This of course resulted in a 
 mere ignoring alike of facts and laws, especially of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 49 
 
 great Newtonian principle of gravitation, which could 
 have no place in such a physical philosophy as that of 
 Descartes. 
 
 But consciousness being set on one side, and extension 
 or body on the other, the question arose in the mind of 
 Descartes as to whether, or rather how, there could pos- 
 sibly be between these the relation of knowledge. If 
 he had simply asked whether there was such a relation, 
 the problem was not of difficult solution; but when he 
 asked how such a relation was possible, he raised a 
 totally different and probably illegitimate question. But 
 be this as it may, Descartes held that there could be no 
 immediate consciousness of extension or an extended ob- 
 ject on the part of the mind. The process of Percep- 
 tion, according to Descartes, may be stated as follows: 
 There is the occurrence of organic impressions on organ, 
 nerve, and brain. The last of these reaches the central 
 point of the nervous organization, — by him regarded as 
 the pineal gland, — these organic movements are not in 
 consciousness at all; even the last of them is not appre-- 
 hended or known in the process of our sensitive con- 
 sciousness. Yet the apprehension of the extra-orgame 
 object is impossible without these as conditions of our 
 knowledge. On occasion of the last of the organic move- 
 ments an idea of the extra-organic object is generated 
 in the consciousness. This is the single object of con- 
 sciousness. It is representative of the outward object, — 
 of the external or extra-organic object. Through and on 
 the ground of this representative idea we know and be- 
 lieve in a world of outward objects. Descartes uses idea 
 both for those organic movements, — the traces on the 
 brain, and for the conscious representation ; but nothing 
 can be clearer than that he held the former to lie wholly 
 beyond consciousness during the time of their occurrence, 
 and to be merely the occasions on which the mental idea 
 rose into consciousness. Here he virtually supposes 
 supernatural action to excite the idea; and he makes an 
 appeal to the veracity of Deity to guarantee the infer- 
 ence of outward reality from it. 
 
 Descartes’s treatment of this point cannot be said to be 
 satisfactory. Indeed no satisfactory dealing with the 
 problem is possible, as its terms were put by 
 Descartes. His position in substance is, that as God is 
 4 
 
5 ° 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 veracious, we may trust that the idea really and ade- 
 quately represents the material non- Ego. But of course 
 there is the prior question as to how the idea came 
 into the conciousness, and then as to the right we 
 have to suppose it representative. The veracity of 
 Deity, even if adequately and logically vindicated for 
 the system, would guarantee nothing to us beyond 
 what our consciousness or idea might actually testify. 
 And if the idea be not properly got, be not a real idea, 
 and if the conditions under which it is supposed to be 
 got render its representative character logically impos- 
 sible, the veracity of Deity could not help us to give 
 an untrue reality or character to the idea. We should 
 then be merely calling in the veracity of Deity to en- 
 able us to assert as real and true what was simply a 
 matter of our own fancy and fiction; to give to a thing, 
 a reality and character which it had not, and not merely 
 to obviate objections or satisfy doubt regarding the 
 reality and the character which it proclaimed itself to 
 have. God’s veracity can never be pledged for any- 
 thing more than the facts of consciousness are, or the 
 deliverance of consciousness declares. And to ascertain 
 this in the first place is the task of philosophical method 
 and reflective analysis. 
 
 With respect to the first question, as to how we 
 know the extended reality in which we believe, whether 
 by intuition or indirectly, there are passages in 
 Descartes which point to the acknowledgment of direct 
 or intuitive knowledge. But he gives this up, and, 
 through force of old presumption, restricts perception to 
 ideas or states of consciousness. 
 
 Obviously, if intuition cannot be made out in some form 
 or other, a material non- Ego, must be given up; and 
 certainly the hypothesis of the representative idea, as is 
 now well acknowledged, will not help us. To think out 
 the notion of a material non- Ego, from the requisites of 
 mere self-consciousness, is impossible. Nothing can be 
 weaker than Kant’s vacillating attempts at the proof of a 
 world in space and time from self-consciousness. This 
 could be done only as the requisite of the difference of 
 the self from the not-self ; but this is satisfied by the mere 
 modes of consciousness themselves varying in time. Self, 
 apart from these, is unknowable and unthinkable, but 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 5i 
 
 not apart from a fnaterial non-Ego. Again, a represent- 
 ative idea is impossible apart from repeated intuitive acts. 
 The points and details must be successively apprehended 
 ere they can be cognized in representation. And we 
 must apprehend these as the condition of our recognition 
 of the correct representation. 
 
 But Descartes seems to have had difficulties, as is 
 usual, as to the possibility of direct knowledge by con- 
 sciousness of extension. These were part of the general 
 alleged difficulties as to how two things so different in 
 nature as consciousness and extension could have com- 
 munion or intercourse — how mind could know matter, 
 or influence it in anything — how matter could act upon 
 or affect mind. As to the general fact of the intuition 
 of extension, or any material quality, he did not see that 
 in so dealing with the question he was illogically putting 
 the question of possibility before the question of fact. 
 This order could only be fairly followed on a system 
 which professed to demonstrate a priori , or by pure 
 thought, the possibility of knowledge, and through this 
 possibility to determine the facts, or at least to make the 
 conception of the facts square with the ideal possibility. 
 This need not at present be discussed; for although 
 Descartes was in a sense demonstrative, this was not the 
 kind of demonstration he contemplated; and it is one 
 which, as might be anticipated, is exceedingly likely to 
 mutilate the integrity alike of truth and philosophy. 
 But Descartes had no idea of demonstrating either the 
 possibility of knowledge or the contents of knowledge. 
 His demonstration was so far a legitimate one. He sought 
 or assumed facts of experience or consciousness, and en- 
 deavored to show their logical connections and relations. 
 The method when carried out in its integrity, is primarily 
 one of observation and reflective analysis. And in order 
 to the faithful application of it, we must scrutinize care- 
 fully and fully every form of our conscious life, and 
 every, even apparent, deliverance of our intelligence. 
 This at least is the first thing to be done, whatever 
 theory we may afterward form of the origin or genesis 
 of those forms of our conscious life, or even, if that be 
 possible, of our consciousness itself. Of all things the 
 most unwarrantable, is to adopt, whether on so-called 
 grounds of reason or on tradition, which comes to verv 
 
52 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 much the same thing, certain general assumptions re- 
 garding what is possible or impossible in knowledge, and 
 by means of these assumptions to override, mutilate, or 
 reject the positive deliverances of our intelligence — 
 especially on the side of intuition. But this is precisely 
 what Descartes seems to have done; it is what has been 
 done repeatedly since his time ; it is done now ; and until 
 philosophical method is freed from this unfaithfulness, 
 philosophy can make no real progress, and will continue 
 to fall short of the breadth of experience and reality. 
 
 So far as the knowledge of a material non- Ego is con- 
 cerned, the question is simply one of analysis of our 
 consciousness. We cannot beforehand say, it is impossi- 
 ble I can know aught of extension or resistance, or any 
 other form of reality, because I can know only my own 
 states of consciousness, or because I cannot know anything 
 distinct from myself. This is to suppose that you have a 
 philosophy ere you set about seeking it. Where has this 
 superior philosophy been got, and what is its guarantee ? 
 Only in that consciousness the fullness of whose deliver- 
 ances it is adduced to discredit. For a consciousness to 
 me above my consciousness is an absurdity and contra- 
 diction in terms. 
 
 If we look for a moment at some of the supposed diffi- 
 culties alleged against the intuition of a material non- Ego, 
 we shall see both how assumptive and how trifling they 
 are. 
 
 It seems that the mind or consciousness, in order to 
 apprehend extension, or in apprehending extension, must 
 become extended — that is, must cease to be mind. Or 
 the mind being indivisible, if it apprehends extension, 
 must become divisible — and so on. Why must this be? 
 Simply from an abuse of words and a false analogy. Ex- 
 tension apprehended is said to be within consciousness; 
 consciousness is therefore necessarily extended; it has 
 parts beyond parts like extension. A sufficient answer to 
 this would be — when I am conscious of extension, as a 
 series of coexisting points, I do not cease to be conscious 
 of mind — I do not become extended or divisible — nay, I 
 should not know what extension or divisibility meant at 
 all, if I had not in myself the co-apprehension of the non- 
 extended and indivisible. I know or apprehend only 
 through contrast and correlation ; and if all in knowledge 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 53 
 
 be one, say the extended, I do not know the extended at 
 all. It is really nothing for me or my knowledge. Con- 
 sciousness as I experience it, and as I can conceive it, is 
 an antithesis — a varying contrast — through an identity, 
 of acts or states and me, of objects of these acts and me, 
 of the successive and the one, of the divisible and the 
 indivisible, the extended and the non-extended: and 
 
 because I am or am supposed to be percipient of an 
 object made up of parts beyond parts, I no more become 
 such, or cease to be the one indivisible knower, than I 
 cease to be one because I am conscious in succession of 
 various thoughts or feelings. The expression, within 
 consciousness, indicates simply a false analogy based on 
 the previous assumption that consciousness is an extended 
 thing, which, like the object perceived, is capable of a 
 within and a without — that is, it is a mere begging of 
 the point at issue. 
 
 The truth is, that so far as this point is concerned, so 
 far from knowledge implying an identity between the 
 subject knowing and the object known, it rather pos- 
 tulates a difference ; for we always and must always 
 distinguish subject and object in the act. But it should 
 be kept in mind that in order to constitute this differ- 
 ence we do not require an object such as extension or 
 resistance ; we require only a mode of consciousness what- 
 ever that may be, feeling or desire. This enables us to 
 discriminate self and mode, or self and object, as well as 
 extension or resistance. The extended, and to us insen- 
 tient, is the true test, not of self and its modes, but of 
 self and its modes on the one hand, and the material 
 non-Ego on the other. Self might be realized in the 
 fullness of its being through the moments of time; its 
 conception of reality is amplified by the apprehension of 
 the points of space; but this does not make it to be or 
 to know more truly what it is. The living spirit knows 
 itself to be in the very movements which reveal its life. 
 If this be so, the material non-Ego is not the necessary 
 diverse correlate of the Ego; the Ego is not subverted 
 by its subversion, but the field is left open, apart from 
 all a priori assumption as to its powers of apprehension 
 and compass ; and a basis is laid for the requirements of 
 a faithful and sound psychology. The whole, too, of the 
 speculation subsequent to Descartes regarding Occasional 
 
54 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Causes, Vision in Deity, and Pre-established Harmony, 
 originating in the groundless difficulty which he felt about 
 the knowledge of the material non- Ego, is superseded 
 as being devised merely to overcome an imaginary 
 difficulty. 
 
 But the whole of the current doctrine of subjectivity 
 is based on an assumption or an imperfect analysis of 
 the matter of fact. The phrases, <( state of conscious- 
 ness, w and (< our knowledge being confined to states of 
 consciousness, w are about as ambiguous as can well be 
 imagined. They confound the knowledge by the con- 
 scious self of its modes with the knowledge by the 
 conscious self of qualities of a wholly different order. 
 The first is a self-guaranteeing knowledge, as we have 
 seen; the other is a knowledge, but it is not self -guar- 
 anteeing, at least on the principle of non-contradiction. 
 I am conscious of purely subjective states; I am further 
 conscious of a sentient extended organism, which I call 
 my body, and at the same time I am conscious of an ex- 
 tension, which is no part of my sentient organism, cor- 
 responding to the surface of contact. This is as clear and 
 distinct a deliverance of consciousness as can be found 
 in experience. Even supposing it to be shown that we 
 have no consciousness of external qualities until the sen- 
 sorium is reached by the ordinary organic impressions, 
 this by no means proves that the perceptive faculty, as 
 conscious, does not reach the utmost bound of the bodily 
 organism, the moment the stimulus is completed. None 
 of these preceding organic impressions is an object of 
 consciousness at all; and what we may perceive, though 
 following upon these, is by no means limited by them. 
 The scope of consciousness must, in a word, be tested 
 by what consciousness actually declares. The sentiency 
 we experience and feel is all through the bodily organ- 
 ism; for, as Mr. Lewes has shown, the brain is not 
 exclusively the organ of sensation. But there is a limit 
 to this sentiency — beyond which it cannot go, and which 
 it does not transcend. This is found at the point of 
 contact between the bodily surface and what we are thus 
 entitled to call the external object. As this quality or 
 object is not felt or known by us to be sentient or part 
 of our sentiency as our bodily organism is, we regard it 
 as a non-Ego, or as not identical with any mode of our 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 55 
 
 consciousness. This is for us the material or truly ex- 
 ternal non- Ego. The outward material world is for us 
 the insentient, extended, and resisting. Our test of 
 this as an independent existence, as something 
 more than a mere state of sentiency or conscious- 
 ness is, that it is not necessary to the existence or 
 to the fact of our consciousness. I am conscious 
 does not imply an outward material non-Ego; it implies 
 merely a distinction in the consciousness itself between 
 the Ego and the mode, and between the Ego and the 
 successive modes. Withdraw either of those, and my 
 consciousness perishes. But it is not so with the qual- 
 ities of extension and resistance correlative to my living 
 and moving organism. Consciousness is not subverted 
 by taking those away; and the conclusion, therefore, is 
 irresistible that I am, whether they subsist or not — 
 that they are not identical with my being — that, in a 
 word, there is a mutual independence and correality 
 between me, the conscious subject, and those qualities 
 or objects of consciousness, at least during the act of 
 perception. This, as appears to me, is the last point in 
 the analysis of perception which we can reach. It is for 
 us an ultimate and irreconcilable antithesis of being. It 
 is given us, too, by that consciousness which, in its 
 ultimate and fully analyzed primary data, is the supreme 
 source of knowledge for us. That there is some trans- 
 cendent ultimate unity, from which both the Ego and 
 the non-Ego flow, is a plausible hypothesis: but it is only 
 a hypothesis — one more or less probable, but incapable 
 by us of absolute proof. Any process of the develop- 
 ment of the Ego and non-Ego from an absolute, yet 
 given by speculative philosophy, turns out, on exam- 
 ination, to be a mere piece of verbalism — a formula of 
 abstraction which leaves out the differences, and thus 
 eviscerates the problem to be solved, or which, con- 
 founding affirmation and negation, abolishes knowledge. 
 And as for a scientific solution of the problem, we may 
 say this at least with safety, that none has as yet been given. 
 
 Even the lower position of a mechanical equivalent of 
 each state of consciousness is not likely to fare better, if 
 we may judge from a recent attempt at a statement of 
 the question made by a physicist of note.* It is, first 
 
 * Professor Huxley, Lay Sermons. — ( Descartes, > p. 339. 
 
5<5 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of all, broadly laid down that all we can know of the 
 universe is a state of consciousness. Applying this par- 
 ticularly to what we speak of as the material universe, 
 the phenomena of nature are simply states of conscious- 
 ness. At the same time, it is maintained that there is, 
 and will ultimately be found, w a mechanical equivalent® 
 of each state of consciousness. There is w a correlation 
 of all the phenomena of the universe with matter and 
 motion.® This language obviously points to a dualism. 
 What precisely is (< the mechanical equivalent of con- 
 sciousness * here referred to ? It is something in corre- 
 lation with the state of consciousness; it is its mechan- 
 ical equivalent, as there is a mechanical equivalent of 
 heat. But in the same breath we are told that our 
 knowledge is entirely restricted to states of conscious- 
 ness. Is this mechanical equivalent known to us ? In 
 that case, it can be but a state of consciousness. Indeed 
 we are expressly told that w matter® and a force,® so far 
 as known to us, and, in other words, so far as they are 
 anything to us, are simply states of consciousness. Then 
 what sort of mechanical equivalent or correlation have 
 we here? Not two things at all — not the mechanical 
 force and the state of consciousness, but simply two states 
 of consciousness, the one which we call, viz, feeling, — 
 the other which we name its mechanical equivalent — 
 perhaps a pound weight falling through a foot. We 
 have not, therefore, explained the state of consciousness, 
 or resolved it into anything different from itself. We 
 have simply said that one state of consciousness, which 
 we call a mechanical equivalent, is followed by another, 
 which we call feeling or volition. This is not to explain 
 the state of consciousness by anything in mere correla- 
 tion with it; it is merely to say that there is a certain 
 or regulated succession in the states of consciousness 
 themselves. But each state is as far from being re- 
 solved into a correlative mechanical equivalent as ever 
 it was; nay, more, we have given up the whole hypoth- 
 esis of dualism, while we retain its language, and think 
 we have effected a reconciliation of materialism and 
 spiritualism. In saying that all we know or can know 
 is a state of consciousness, we preclude ourselves from 
 asserting, anything that is not a state of conscious- 
 ness — and any mere hypothetical matter or force or 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 57 
 
 motion which we postulate as in correlation, is illegitimately 
 assumed as a fact — nay, illegitimately even conceived 
 as an idea. 
 
 VIII. Innate Ideas. 
 
 The predicate “ innate ” has been a source of great de- 
 bate in connection with the philosophy of Descartes. 
 But any one who intelligently apprehends its first prin- 
 ciples, will readily see both what it means and what is 
 the extent of its application in his philosophy. It will 
 be found to amount to this, that there is no mental mod- 
 ification whatever in our consciousness, which, according 
 to Descartes, is not innate. But it is innate not in the 
 sense of being actually developed, or an actual modifica- 
 tion of consciousness ; innate only in the sense of being 
 a potentiality capable of development into a form of 
 consciousness, yet waiting certain conditions ere this 
 takes place. In this sense, every idea of perception, and 
 every state of sensation is innate. The supposed outward 
 world and the organic impressions which precede per- 
 ception and sensation lie wholly beyond consciousness. 
 Yet, but for their action in the view of Descartes, neither 
 perception nor sensation would occur. At the same 
 time, their influence ceases at the threshold of conscious- 
 ness, and when their action is completed, there originate 
 in the mind out of its own nature the conscious idea of 
 extension, and the conscious sensation of color or sound. 
 These ideas and sensations are wholly innate, in the 
 sense that they are evolutions of the consciousness alone ; 
 that they are not transmitted to the mind by the action 
 of outward objects or by the organic impressions. They 
 are the forms of a new and independent power, which 
 arise simply on occasion of external stimuli, but which 
 these stimuli serve in no way to create. Perceptions are 
 innate, — due to the independency of the mind, on the 
 theory of Descartes, hardly less than they are innate on 
 the doctrine of the spontaneous monadic development of 
 Leibnitz. 
 
 But there is another class of mental modifications with 
 Descartes. These are not perceptions or sensations. 
 They are “truths,” or “common notions,” or universal 
 
58 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 principles, — such as the law of substance and quality and 
 of non-contradiction. These too are innate, — especially 
 innate They are innate potentialities, over and above 
 mere perceptions or sensations. They too become actual 
 in experience — but, unlike sensation, they are not im- 
 mediately preceded by organic impressions. The moment 
 the doctrine of Descartes is thus correctly apprehended, 
 the whole polemic of Locke against <( Innate Ideas ® is 
 seen to be irrelevant. If the doctrine is to be validly 
 assailed, it must be on wholly other grounds than those 
 stated by Locke.* 
 
 IX. Malebranche (1638-1715).! 
 
 In accordance with the usual Hegelian formula as ap- 
 plied to history, an attempt is made to show that the 
 system of Descartes is part of the evolution of what is 
 called (< thought. * It is assumed, accordingly, that there 
 is but a single conception at the root of the philosophy 
 of Descartes, — that this runs all through his thinking, — 
 and that it is carried to its necessary development by 
 the force of (< the immanent dialectic,® through Male- 
 branche and Spinoza. One of the worst features of the 
 Hegelian mode of looking at the history of speculation 
 comes out here. Assuming that speculative thought de- 
 velops necessarily through a series of specified moments, 
 it must either find the single moment in a given sys- 
 tem or reject the system as unspeculative. The result 
 of this method is, on the one hand, an attempt to make 
 a system express one of the moments; or, on the other, 
 arrogantly to pass by the system as of no account. We 
 
 * All that is stated here will be found proved and illustrated in 
 the Appendix to the present volume, Notes I., II., and VI. These are 
 now reproduced exactly as they appeared in the Appendix to the 
 Translation of The Meditations , published in 1853. The information 
 therein contained, and the relative passages, have since been gener- 
 ally utilized by writers on Descartes and Cartesianism ; and not un- 
 frequently the quotations are credited to those who thus make use 
 of them as introduced for the first time into our Cartesian literature. 
 
 fHis writings appeared from 1674 to 1715. Spinoza lived from 
 1632-1677. His writings appeared from 1663 to 1677. Malebranche, 
 as in some respects nearer in doctrine to Descartes, is first consid- 
 ered- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 59 
 
 have thus frequently instead of * pure thought ® pure 
 phantasy in dealing with a system of philosophy, and a 
 willful blindness to the facts of history and experience. 
 In the case of Descartes the Hegelian mistake is two- 
 fold. It is wrongly assumed that the philosophy of Des- 
 cartes represents a single thought, or a single moment 
 of thought, and it either incorrectly or inadequately de- 
 scribes the main thought which animates his philosophy. 
 
 With Descartes, according to Hegel, we have to re- 
 nounce every prejudgment in order to gain a pure be- 
 ginning. The spirit of the philosophy of Descartes is 
 consciousness as the unity of thought and being. The 
 <( I ® in the philosophy of Descartes has the meaning of 
 thought, not the individuality ( Einzelnheit ) of self-con- 
 sciousness. Descartes appeals to consciousness for his 
 first principle ; but he only naively gets at the consequences 
 of it, or at least at the propositions of philosophy. He 
 does not at first properly state the principle out of which 
 the whole content ( Inhalt ) of philosophy is to be derived. 
 The identity of being and thought, — altogether the most 
 interesting idea of modern times, — Descartes has not 
 farther proved, but for it has singly and alone appealed 
 to consciousness, and provisionally placed it in the front. 
 For with Descartes the necessity is not in any way pres- 
 ent to develop difference out of the <( I think.® Fichte 
 first proceeded to this, and out of this point of absolute 
 certainty to derive all determinations. Then of course 
 we must expect to find that Descartes takes being in its 
 wholly positive sense, and has no conception that it is 
 the negative of self-consciousness. Then there is constant 
 talk of the pure consciousness contained in the concrete 
 
 * I. ® And Descartes is criticised in respect that the cer- 
 tainty of self-consciousness does not properly pass over 
 to truth, or the determined. This passing over is done 
 
 * externally ® and reflectively only. Consciousness does 
 not determine itself. 
 
 In plain language, the whole basis and method of 
 Descartes are criticised from an assumption that human 
 knowledge is possible from a mere universal or abstract 
 something called pure thought, or the pure consciousness 
 of the (( I,® — above altogether, in the first place at 
 least, ordinary consciousness or knowledge. This system 
 is not only unvindicable in itself and its principles, but 
 
6o 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 it has really no connection, logical or historical, with the 
 true system of Descartes. Nothing, for example, can be 
 more out of place historically than to connect Descartes 
 with Fichte, or to suppose that the system of the latter 
 is any way a fair logical evolution from that of the 
 former. It is even ludicrous to set up this so-called 
 Hegelian development of <( reason, M and by virtue of the 
 gathered power of a word, whose connotation is alto- 
 gether different from the Hegelian, to ask us to renounce 
 the experiential method of Descartes and nearly the 
 whole of subsequent modern philosophy. It is a com- 
 plete mistake historically to assume that the moment of 
 Cartesianism is consciousness, — spoken of in the vague 
 generality with which Hegel deals with it. The conscious- 
 ness of Descartes is a self-guaranteeing principle, — which 
 is a great deal more than Hegel has vindicated or can vin- 
 dicate for his Pure Being. In truth, the first principle 
 of Descartes is not consciousness properly speaking, but 
 self-consciousness, — tested experimentally and found self- 
 guaranteeing. Self-consciousness was never more truly 
 or fully appreciated than in the system of Descartes. It 
 is, if anything is, his most vitalizing thought. And if 
 the system of Descartes be one thoroughly of self- 
 consciousness, neither that of Kant nor that of Fichte 
 can be so described. The basis of Fichte’s system is an 
 absolute Ego, of which the Ego of consciousness is at 
 best phenome . d; and the real Ego of Kant is wholly 
 noumenal, not in phenomenal consciousness at all, while 
 his phenomenal Ego has but a generic or logical identity. 
 
 Nor do later attempts to find the one thought of Des- 
 cartes fare better. To say absolutely that Descartes 
 stated a thought which was legitimately developed by 
 Malebranche and Spinoza is thoroughly misleading. 
 There are points in Descartes which were fairly enough 
 developed by these later thinkers; there are others which 
 were not. There are important points in the philosophy 
 of Descartes which were not touched by either. Des- 
 cartes thought was manifold; and so must be its develop- 
 ments. 
 
 The aim of Descartes was, no doubt, to find absolutely 
 ultimate truth and certainty, as guaranteed by the re- 
 flective analysis of consciousness — to obtain therein a 
 criterion of truth and falsehood — and, if possible, to 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 61 
 
 develop by demonstration from the single ultimate fact, 
 the truth about the world and God, — and thus to sub- 
 ordinate and correlate the truths of philosophy. But the 
 peculiarity of Descartes was not, as we have seen, so 
 much this aim — which is the common one of specula- 
 tive systems — as his method of seeking it, in an exam- 
 ination of consciousness, and finding it in the principle 
 of limit to conscious thought. It is this point of limit 
 which, in a speculative view, is the peculiarity of Car- 
 tesianism; and it is this exactly which, in the so-called 
 evolution of his thought, Malebranche partially and un- 
 consciously, and Spinoza wholly and consciously, sought 
 to reverse. If the reversal of a position, and, I should 
 add, the illegitimate reversal, is a development, we have 
 the highest reach of Cartesianism in Spinoza. Spinoza 
 developed Descartes by amending the formula cogito ergo 
 sum, into cogito ergo non sum. 
 
 The truth is, that both Malebranche and Spinoza seized 
 on those subordinate points in the philosophy of Descartes 
 which tended to lower human activity and personality, 
 and in different ways sought to ascribe all real efficacy 
 or casuality to a Power above and outside of man. 
 Malebranche certainly kept up the conception of a Per- 
 sonal Deity as the Supreme Cause, though inconsistently 
 with his conception of Deity as mere indeterminate or 
 unrestricted being. Spinoza held by an Indeterminate 
 Substance. It is doubtful, however, whether Malebranche, 
 in virtually annihilating human personality in experience, 
 had any right thereafter to speak of a Divine Personality; 
 and certainly Spinoza precluded himself even from the 
 conception of a Finite Personality by placing at the source 
 of the universe of Being mere Indeterminate Substance. 
 There would be an inconsistency on the doctrine of either 
 in making this Divine or Substantial Power all, and at 
 the same time holding Man to be something — either a 
 spontaneous agent, a responsible power, or even a being 
 in any way resembling the living reality of human con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 On one cardinal point of Descartes — the knowledge of 
 mind in consciousness, and the corollary that the soul is 
 better and more clearly known than the body — Male- 
 branche entirely differs from him. Malebranche maintains 
 that we have no idea of the mind, and therefore no clear 
 
62 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 knowledge of it. We know it only through internal 
 sentiment — that is, consciousness; but we have no 
 proper idea of it. Our knowledge of body or extension, 
 on the other hand, is by means of idea ; and hence it is a 
 clearer knowledge than that of the soul. As if, forsooth, 
 in the consciousness of extension, the extension or object 
 were clearer than the conscious act of apprehension. We 
 know, however, by this inner feeling or consciousness, 
 that the soul is; but we do not know what it is. His 
 practical test of the superior clearness of our knowledge 
 of extension is, that extension being in idea, we can evolve 
 or deduce from the idea of it alone all its numerous 
 properties and relations: whereas from the so-called idea 
 of the soul we can deduce none of its properties — either 
 pleasure, pain, or any other. Malebranche thus, instead 
 of advancing on Descartes in a legitimate and necessary 
 manner, simply deviated wholly from the spirit and pro- 
 cedure of the Method. He regarded a method of deduc- 
 tion and demonstration as the only truly philosophical. 
 He was wholly misled by the analogy of mathematics, 
 as Descartes himself partly was, and sought to deal with 
 the range of knowledge, as a geometer may deal with the 
 properties of space which he borrows and defines. But 
 there is no true analogy. Given space, we can evolve 
 its properties, for we need not proceed beyond itself, 
 save by way of limit, and limit of space is itself space. 
 Given an abstract Ego, it must always remain such. 
 Given a conscious Ego, it is me-conscious, and conscious 
 in one definite way. And let this be knowledge of an 
 object, we cannot proceed merely from this to evolve 
 either desire or volition, or any property specifically dis- 
 tinct from knowledge. We must wait the development 
 of consciousness itself, for our knowledge, even concep- 
 tion, of those new modes. We can no more do this than 
 the physical philosopher can, from the sight of a definite 
 kind and quantity of motion, predict its passage into light 
 or heat, before he has any experience of such a tran- 
 sition. The light or heat are sensations of a specifically 
 different kind from the modes of motion regarded as 
 objects of vision. And these, therefore, it is impossible 
 a priori to predict — impossible even a priori to con- 
 ceive. Malebranche shows himself distinctly aware 
 of this in relation to mind. (< The soul knows not 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 63 
 
 that it is capable of this or that sensation by any view 
 it takes of itself, but by experience ; on the other 
 hand, it knows that extension is capable of an infinite 
 number of figures by the idea representative of exten- 
 sion. . . . We cannot give a definition which shall 
 
 explain the modifications of the soul. . . . It is evi- 
 
 dent that if a man had never seen color nor felt heat, 
 he could not be made to understand those sensations by 
 any definition.® But while thus speaking, Malebranche 
 discredited entirely the philosophical method, — the spirit 
 of reflection and the analysis of consciousness on which 
 Descartes relied for the foundations of his philosophy, 
 and which were destined to bring men face to face with 
 the real facts of mental life. Malebranche, in so doing, 
 left himself no basis for his own deduction, and no guar- 
 anteed law or method of deduction. 
 
 The alleged advance on Descartes, or carrying out of 
 Cartesian principles by Malebranche, is simple, and in 
 many respects irrelevant enough. Descartes’ dualism of 
 thought and extension was his preliminary difficulty and 
 puzzle. How can these disparate substances be connected 
 in knowledge ? Instead of recognizing the artificial 
 nature of the difficulty, he admitted it as real, and sought 
 to solve it. The soul can but perceive that which is 
 immediately united with it. Things that are corporeal 
 cannot be immediately perceived. Everybody, it seems, 
 admits this. And what is the solution ? Sense and 
 imagination give us one set of modes of consciousness or 
 thoughts about this extended world. These are sen- 
 timents — in a word, sensations — such as light, color, heat, 
 pleasure, and pain. These are not in body; they tell 
 us nothing of its nature; they are relative simply to our 
 bodily organization. They have a reality only in us, yet 
 we do not produce them. They are caused irk us by God 
 himself; he is tlm only and the efficient cause of our 
 sensations. Because, according to the view of Male- 
 branche, God is the only real and efficient cause in the 
 universe. 
 
 De la Forge, Cordemoy, and Geulincx, had more or 
 less anticipated the doctrine of Occasional Causes. They 
 all felt, as Malebranche himself did, that invariable 
 sequence or correspondence is no true causality. It is a 
 proof simply that causality is in operation; but it is not 
 
64 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the causality itself. They had applied this doctrine to 
 the connection between mind and body. It was reserved 
 for Malebranche to apply it universally to the relations 
 of all created things or phenomena of the universe. No 
 finite being, according to Malebranche, be it mind or 
 body or extra-organic object, can act on any other with a 
 true efficiency. There is harmony or correspondence in 
 their manifestations, but that is all. God alone is the 
 efficient cause at work in the world. Things are occa- 
 sions; their manifestations are subject to definite laws or 
 decrees; the Divine Power is the only sufficient agency 
 in the world, — whether it relate to the production of 
 perceptions, or the realization of volitions. Mind is 
 purely passive, whether there be organic change in the 
 body, or whether even there be resolution. The nervous 
 action, on which the realization of volition depends, is 
 wholly unknown to us. We have thus no power over it; 
 no more power than we have over the organic impres- 
 sions which are the occasion of sensation. God is all in 
 all, — operating efficiently in and through all. A bad 
 psychology, or rather an unwarrantable deduction, had 
 thus destroyed the activity of knowledge and the reality 
 of freedom and the force of personality. 
 
 But we have more than sensations; we have ideas. 
 These are in the sphere of the Pure Understanding. 
 They are the immediate objects of the act of perception ; 
 and they are distinct from bodies. Extension, figure, 
 motion — these are not sensations ; they are ideas. (< In 
 perceiving anything of a sensible nature, two things 
 occur in our perception — Sensation and Pure Idea. The 
 sensation is a modification of our soul, and God causes 
 it in us. . . . The idea, which is joined to the sensa- 
 
 tion, is in God; and we see it, because it pleases him to 
 reveal it to us. God connects the sensation with the 
 idea, when the objects are present.” But whence come 
 ideas ? Malebranche exhausts the possibilities of their 
 origin by a comprehensive statement. The possible ex- 
 planations are as follow: (i.) Ideas come from bodies. 
 
 (2.) The soul has the power of producing them. (3.) 
 God produces them in the soul at its creation. (4.) God 
 produces them whenever we think an object. (5.) The 
 soul has or sees in itself all the perfections of bodies. 
 (6.) The soul is united to an all-perfect being who em- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 65 
 
 braces the ideas or perfections of created things. He 
 concludes by adopting the last solution that the soul is 
 united to a supremely Perfect Being, who contains the 
 ideas of all created beings. It therefore sees all ideas in 
 God. The finite is in the bosom of the infinite. He is 
 the place of spirits, as space is the place of bodies; and 
 we are immediately conscious of the ideas of the quali- 
 ties of body in God himself. 
 
 Yet we have a higher assurance of the reality of the 
 idea than of the quality or body which the idea repre- 
 sents. The idea is external to us, yet it is surely known 
 in God; but the world of material reality which the 
 ideas represent is only a probable inference from the real- 
 ity of the ideas themselves. <( It is not necessary that 
 there should be anything without like to the idea. ® The 
 only reality which is the object of perception — that is, 
 of -which we are immediately cognizant and certain — is 
 the idea itself. And we must not suppose that these 
 ideas are identical with the Divine substance or essence ; 
 they express only certain of his relations to his creatures. 
 The consciousness, accordingly, of me, the finite, in ap- 
 prehending those ideas, would be inaccurately described 
 as identical with the Divine consciousness. In knowing 
 those ideas, I am as far from the real inner essence of 
 the Divine consciousness, as I am from the reality of the 
 thing represented. He says, <( it is not properly to see 
 God, to see the creatures in him. It is not to see his 
 essence to see the essence of creatures in his sub- 
 stance.® All that can be alleged is, that I the percipi- 
 ent and Deity have a common object of knowledge in 
 the idea. 
 
 So far we can attach a meaning to this system. But 
 the question arises, what does this vision of all things 
 in God precisely mean ? Does it refer to the perception 
 of the qualities of body, however numerous, passing, 
 contingent these may be in time and space ? Are the 
 ideas perceived in God as numerous as the actual quali- 
 ties or things of experience ? Then, what becomes of 
 the unity and indivisibility of Deity ? What is he in this 
 case but another name for the sum of our experience ? 
 What is he but peopled space and time ? Or does the 
 vision in Deity refer merely to the laws and types of 
 things under which perception and thought are possible ? 
 
 5 
 
66 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Malebranche vacillates on this point. But he was finally 
 driven to the latter conception. His idea in God came 
 to mean the essence or type of the thing; and he names 
 it intelligible extension. It is this idea which is in God, 
 and which we see in God. Along with it God determines 
 in us certain passing sensations — such as color, sound, 
 heat or cold. These are in our consciousness, though 
 confused : the idea is in God. It is the permanent essence. 
 But what is this intelligible extension ? Is it extension 
 — that is, space, without limit or figure — conceived as 
 infinite ? Is this identical with the ideas of our percep- 
 tion ? If so, how ? Is this the world we are supposed 
 to perceive in the representative idea ? The idea of the 
 figure, definite, limited ? Again, what is the connection 
 between this ideal and the real extension ? Between 
 space conceived as empty, and space perceived as filled 
 with matter ? The truth is, that such a position cannot 
 be vindicated consistently with the facts of the intui- 
 tional consciousness. It means simply abstract or void 
 space, and this is as far from the reality of the world, 
 as possibility is from actuality, or absolute monotony from 
 the variety of experience. 
 
 As to the nature of our knowledge of God, Malebranche 
 differed in one important respect from Descartes; though 
 whether it was an advance or the reverse is matter of 
 question. Descartes distinguished the idea from the reality 
 of the supremely perfect, and made the reality an infer- 
 ence from the idea. But just as Malebranche held that 
 the soul is not known through idea, he held that Deity, 
 or the Being of Beings, the supremely Perfect, is not 
 known by us through idea. It is not conceivable that 
 anything created can represent the infinite; that being 
 without restriction, the immense being, can be perceived 
 by an idea, that is, by a particular being and a being 
 different from the universal and infinite being. One might 
 suppose that in this case our knowledge of the supremely 
 Perfect would be obscure, like our knowledge of the soul 
 itself. But no. The soul is immediately united with the 
 substance of God himself; we thus know him as he is 
 in himself. On occasion of every apprehension of sen- 
 sation even, or of bodily movement, we know the infinite. 
 ■'If I think the infinite, the infinite is.® This is the sole 
 demonstration of Malebranche. Yet even while he seems 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 67 
 
 to unite the finite consciousness to the divine substance, 
 in order that, as more than finite, it may know this sub- 
 stance or itself, it turns out that it does not wholly know 
 the substance; our apprehension is not infinite; we are, 
 therefore, less than the infinite is. 
 
 This, then, is another and higher vision in God. The 
 soul is now immediately cognizant of God in his essence ; 
 and, though only in a limited way, we thus see the 
 infinite perfection of Deity and their relations. We see 
 ideas, principles eternal and immutable ; we perceive also 
 truths — that is, the relations of those ideas. This is 
 Reason — which is absolutely impersonal — common to 
 all intelligences, human and divine. It is manifested in 
 the form of speculative or metaphysical laws, and in 
 that of practical or moral laws. The former are modi- 
 fications of the idea of quantity, subsisting between ideas 
 of the same nature ; the latter of perfection or graduated 
 order among beings of different natures. 
 
 Malebranche here made an advance beyond Descartes. 
 The latter had founded the distinctions of true and 
 false, right and wrong, beautiful and deformed, on the 
 mere will of God. Malebranche very properly departed 
 from this position, and founded those distinctions on the 
 intelligence of Deity itself. The one supreme thing in 
 the universe is the sovereignty of the Reason. It bends 
 to the will neither of man nor of God. But there is 
 nothing to show that he connects the doctrine of the 
 Impersonal Reason with the hypothesis — the identity of 
 the human consciousness with the divine substance or 
 consciousness. This is not at all necessary to his doc- 
 trine, and it is not legitimately involved in it. On the 
 contrary, our knowledge of the infinite is with him never 
 coextensive with the reality. The fair issue of the doc- 
 trine of Malebranche regarding the infinite, which, to be 
 intelligible, means the principle of universal truths, is 
 that there is a common knowledge between man and 
 God. But to say that the consciousness I am and ex- 
 perience, is the consciousness of God, or God’s conscious- 
 ness of himself, is to assume this convertibility, and it 
 is either to abolish me altogether, or to abolish God; 
 for it gives me a God convertible with all the conditions 
 and limitations in essence and in time of a temporal 
 consciousness. 
 
68 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The utmost identity predicable in such a case is a 
 merely logical or generic identity. The human and the 
 divine possess common laws of knowledge. This no 
 more proves the identity of the human and divine intel- 
 ligence, as existences, than the community of the laws of 
 knowledge among human intelligents destroys the in- 
 dividuality and variety of the self-hood of each. The 
 whole question as to the relation of me, the being in 
 time, to an Eternal Being, stands just where it was. 
 
 X. Spinoza (1632-1677) — Relations to Descartes. 
 
 Leibnitz, speaking of the philosophy of Descartes, said 
 it was the antechamber of the truth. At another time, 
 he tells us that Spinozism is an exaggerated Cartesian- 
 ism (le Spinozisme est un Cartdsianisme ontri). Again, 
 he says, <( Spinoza has cultivated only certain seeds of the 
 philosophy of Descartes. w There can, I think, be no 
 doubt that Spinoza was stimulated to speculation by 
 Descartes; and also that he found in Descartes’ writings 
 certain points which, when exclusively considered, tended 
 to suggest his own doctrines as a complement or develop- 
 ment. But that he truly interpreted the main and char- 
 acteristic features of the philosophy of Descartes, or 
 carried out its proper tendency, or logically added to it 
 certain results, I emphatically deny. 
 
 In the first place, Descartes’ philosophy is by method 
 distinctly one of intuition and experience. No one can 
 read the Method without feeling that the writer is seek- 
 ing relief from scholasticism, and that you have done 
 with the Schoolmen — with their abstractions and their 
 deductions. The healthy branch of modern experimental 
 thought is there. You feel it in the cogito ergo sum — 
 in the criterion of clearness and distinctness of ideas — 
 and particularly in his first proof of the existence of God, 
 founded on the fact of the personal existence and yet 
 imperfection of being revealed in human consciousness. 
 But Spinoza absolutely disdains experience and observa- 
 tion. To him a conviction or fact of consciousness, how- 
 ever deeply or thoroughly tested, by analytic reflection 
 is nothing. He no doubt speaks of his philosophical 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 69 
 
 method as reason founded on immediate intuition; but 
 when we come to examine his intuition, it turns out to 
 be merely definition — and arbitrary definition. There is 
 no analysis of consciousness whatever — no founding on 
 intuition or fact. It is the method of Pure Reason, all 
 through — a return, disguise it as you may, to the method 
 of scholastic abstraction and deduction. Spinoza pro- 
 fesses to deduce the facts of consciousness, and con- 
 sciousness itself, from the infinite substance and its 
 attributes. And he holds, with Malebranche, that knowl- 
 edge through consciousness and of the facts of con- 
 sciousness is obscure and confused. Descartes no doubt 
 aimed at deduction, but it was a deduction professedly 
 founded on facts of consciousness as the clearest sphere 
 of human knowledge. At the same time, he exagger- 
 ated the importance and the use of it; and there is an 
 obvious tendency, especially in the Principles , to super- 
 sede his original or intuitive method by the demonstrative 
 or deductive, — to fall away, in fact, from the investiga- 
 tion of the real unto the shadowy sphere of the abstract. 
 At the same time, the order of the Principles may fairly 
 enough be regarded as merely a synthetic way of putting 
 the results of a foregone analysis. If Spinozism be re- 
 garded as in method a development of Descartes, it was 
 not of his original and fruitful method, but of his later 
 unfaithfulness in the use of that method. 
 
 Descartes’ alienation from his original method of con- 
 scious verification arose mainly from his assuming that 
 whatever is clearly and distinctly conceived in the idea of 
 an object may be predicated as really true of that object. 
 This, with all its obvious fallacy and confusion, was 
 adopted by Spinoza, and carried to exaggeration by him, 
 with a thorough indifference to the psychological method 
 of Descartes, the only means of giving the idea truth, or 
 relevancy to fact. With such a postulate, it is easy to see 
 how Spinoza proceeded. We have only to get the prelim- 
 inary idea of all things as clear and distinct, and then 
 from this we can readily evolve all subsequent ideas or 
 conceptions. The universe will then be comprehended by 
 us not in its parts merely, but as a whole. The begin- 
 ning of all will be grasped, and each part of the whole 
 will be apprehended in its relation to the preceding part, 
 and thus to the first of things. It will, accordingly, 
 
70 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 be known truly for what it is, because it will be known 
 in all its actual relations to preceding facts, and in 
 all its possible relations to succeeding developments. 
 This is, no doubt, a very fine conception of the aim of 
 human knowledge. Whether it is merely a dream or a 
 reality is, of course, a matter of argument. If we could 
 reach a knowledge of the absolute totality of being, or of 
 the universe at any given point in its development, we 
 should gain a knowledge which is absolutely convertible 
 with all possible knowledge in each given stage; and 
 if we could thus follow the evolutions we should make 
 our knowledge convertible with, or representative of, the 
 whole of actual and possible being. But such an ideal of 
 knowledge is impossible, unless on the assumption that 
 the totality of being can be first grasped by definition, 
 as figure in mathematics, and its various possible combi- 
 nations therefrom evolved. And this is merely to assume 
 in method or premises what requires to be proved in re- 
 sult or conclusion. What would be our test of the com- 
 pleteness or adequacy of our definition ? What, then, 
 would be the guarantee of the totality of our knowledge 
 in any given stage ? The assumption of a casual relation 
 between the stages does not help us, for we have to ascer- 
 tain in the first stage the totality of the cause. And here, 
 even on Spinoza’s own admission, the doctrine must be 
 held to break down. For while the first substance possesses 
 an infinity of attributes, of these we knew only two — ex- 
 tension and thought. It is thus utterly impossible for us, 
 through the grasp of these partial forms of being, to con- 
 ceive all being, and follow the evolutions of its totality. 
 This would be merely an illogical identification of the part 
 with the whole, — reasoning, in fact, from the finitude of 
 our knowledge to the infinitude of things. 
 
 Of course, Spinoza grandly distinguishes this demonstra- 
 tive method of knowledge from that of vulgar opinion 
 and belief. This is partial and abstract, and worth noth- 
 ing. It does not see the connections of things, and thus 
 fails of their truth. It proceeds without examination or 
 reflection. It accepts common opinions. Spinoza’s whole 
 writing of this sort has been relegated long ago to the 
 limbo of misconception, and should have been left there. 
 It has been stated over and over again by the opponents 
 of a demonstrative system of philosophy, that the alter- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 7i 
 
 native alone conceived by Spinoza, and alone contem- 
 plated by those who virtually accept his method, is a 
 simple caricature of the method which they follow. It 
 has been shown repeatedly that the common opinions of 
 mankind ( or the common sense of mankind, as it is 
 called), form simply the materials of philosophical analy- 
 sis and criticism. Hamilton, for example, tells us most 
 explicitly that philosophy is not to be constituted by (< an 
 appeal to the undeveloped beliefs of the irreflective 
 many,” but (< through a critical analysis of those beliefs.” 
 We may therefore set aside as utterly beside the point, 
 as, in fact, due either to ignorance or perversion, the 
 misrepresentations of the method of the psychological 
 school constantly made by followers of Spinoza and Hegel. 
 The question as to whether we can grasp the universe 
 as a whole of development cannot even be fairly ap- 
 proached, until the upholders of the affirmative position 
 show that they understand the nature of the psycholog- 
 ical method. 
 
 What gives a somewhat ludicrous aspect to this mis- 
 representation of the psychological method, is the fact 
 that when we come to examine closely certain points in 
 the deductive systems, we find that, while despising 
 psychology, they have really nothing to give us except 
 this very common sense of mankind which they so» 
 haughtily reject. Spinoza, for example, the ideal of the 
 man who had a contempt for common sense and all its 
 accessories, is found after all to be dependent on it for 
 his selection of the fundamental notions of his system. 
 It appears that in his review of the notions current 
 among mankind there are some which are inadequate 
 and confused; others which are clear and distinct. 
 Among the former class are Being, Something, Freedom, 
 Final Cause; while among the clear and distinct are 
 Cause, Substance, God, or the Infinite Substance. When 
 we seek for some sort of test of this apparently arbi- 
 trary selection, we find that the former are relegated to 
 unreality and untruthfulness, because they are notiones 
 universales merely — meaning, possibly, generalizations. 
 But tne others, such as Substance and Cause, are held 
 to be clear and true, because they are notiones communes ; 
 and when we ask what the meaning of this is, we find 
 that they are something common to all minds and all 
 
72 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 things. What is this but an appeal to the common-sense 
 of mankind, and in its unscientific and irreflective form ? 
 If, moreover, we apply the test of community in the 
 things to the relegated notions of Being or Something, 
 it will certainly occur to us that the distinction is one 
 rather of caprice and petulance than of logical or con- 
 sistent thought. Freedom and Final Cause stood rather 
 in the way of his deduction; by all means, therefore, let 
 them be set aside as obscure and confused. The truth 
 is, that any deductive system is nothing more than a 
 mere hypothesis, or has no basis higher than unsifted 
 data, so long as it is not grounded on direct and com- 
 plete pyschological analysis of the facts. 
 
 But even this misrepresentation is comparatively of 
 little moment when we look on the deductive systems — 
 such as that of Spinoza — in relation to the full contents 
 of the human consciousness. It is here the prin- 
 ciple of their method reduces itself to an absolute con- 
 tradiction. The data which the method assumes, and 
 from which it proceeds to develop the universe of being, 
 have no higher guarantee than those very facts of 
 human consciousness relating to Personality, Freedom, 
 and Morality, which they undoubtedly subvert. It is 
 here that the common experience of mankind, when 
 psychologically tested as fact, comes into collision with 
 the conclusions of the deductive system ; and ere the 
 facts of common experience are swept away, it must be 
 shown that the so-called ideas of Substance and Cause 
 have any higher or other guarantee in our consciousness 
 than these other ideas, and are entitled to override them. 
 What guarantee can any philosophy give for the idea of 
 Substance for example, or even Pure Being or Pure 
 Thought, which cannot be equally, even more, given for 
 Personality and Freedom ? I do not mean the Spinozistic 
 or Hegelian caricatures of those ideas, but the con- 
 ceptions of them actually given or implied in conscious- 
 ness. A deductive system which sweeps away these con- 
 ceptions must, in its spirit of superior wisdom, show how 
 mankind, in their whole history and highest purposes 
 and actions, have been deluded into believing themselves 
 as more than the mere necessitarian movements with 
 consciousness which Spinoza and Hegel allow them to 
 be. But even if it can show this, it must do it at the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 73 
 
 expense of allowing the principles of moral action and 
 of true speculative thought, to he, as a matter of fact, 
 in diametrical contradiction. When the contest takes 
 this form, we know which side must speedily go to the 
 wall. 
 
 But take the method of Spinoza as a whole. What is 
 the assumption on which it proceeds ? Entirely the geo- 
 metric method of conception, borrowed no doubt from 
 things both latent and expressed in the writings of 
 Descartes. This means postulates, definitions, and axioms. 
 The geometrical definitions refer to one uniform idea, 
 manifesting itself in various forms, but never transcend- 
 ing itself. This conception is the idea of extension, 
 coexistent points or magnitude. It begins with the ele- 
 mentary perception of point, or the minimum visibile; it 
 goes on to the generation of line and then of surface, or 
 what we know ordinarily as extension. Now we need 
 not consider either the source of the conceptions of point, 
 line, and surface, or the guarantee of them. It is suffi- 
 cient for our purpose at present to note that these are 
 capable of definition, and that the knowledge which ad- 
 mits of being deduced from them, or the notion at the 
 root of 'them, never passes beyond the initial conception. 
 It is extension of line and surface at first; it is this and 
 its relations all through. In fact, we are here dealing 
 with abstractions. The definitions are abstractions, or, if 
 you choose, constructions from data, — elementary data of 
 sense. These data are unchangeable, irreversible by us, 
 and hence they and their relations may be said to be 
 necessary. Given certain definitions, we may, by means 
 of postulate and axiom, work out the consequent truths 
 or deductions to their utmost result as ideal combinations. 
 This is the geometrical method. But is such a method 
 at all possible either in Physics or Metaphysics ? Here, 
 confessedly, we deal with the real or concrete. We have 
 to look at the contents of experience — of space and time ; 
 at what we call the phenomenal world; and we have to 
 consider the relations or the parts of this world to the 
 preceding parts, and to each other, as it were, all around. 
 We have to look at it in time and space. This is the 
 physical point of view. Metaphysically, we must still 
 keep in view this concrete world. But the metaphysical 
 questions relate to the nature of its reality, its origin, 
 
74 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 order, development. What it is, whence it is, how it has 
 become, whither it is tending, — these questions cannot 
 be discussed without dealing in the same way with the 
 world of consciousness — with the nature, origin, and 
 destiny of the Self or Ego in consciousness — as far as 
 this may be competent and consistent with the conditions 
 of intelligibility. Without doubt those contents are in 
 time, or in time and space. They are the materials 
 which we have to examine — if possible, to deduce in 
 their order. We have to show, in fact, on such a method, 
 the causal relations of the whole terms of reality; we 
 have to show also the necessary connection of every idea 
 — certainly of every universal idea, be it form of per- 
 ception or of thought proper — in the human conscious- 
 ness. We must, in a word, deduce from some primary 
 conception — some primary possibility, clearly and dis- 
 tinctly conceived, the typical idea, at least in every 
 physical generalization, the universal law or condition 
 which is in every act of human cognition. 
 
 Now the question is, Is the method of Spinoza — is, 
 in fact, any deductive method whatever — able to do 
 this ? Let us look at the physical problem as under- 
 taken by the deductive method. (< Real and physical 
 things,” Spinoza tells us, <( cannot be understood so long 
 as their essence is unknown. If we leave essences out 
 of view, the necessary connection of ideas which should 
 reproduce the necessary connection of objects is de- 
 stroyed. ” 
 
 Now we shall not ask the method to condescend to the 
 contingent facts of time and space — to the passing in- 
 dividuals of the moment. We shall test it simply by 
 general ideas. We shall ask it to show that one form of 
 concrete being can be the ground of the anticipation or 
 prediction of another, which we have not yet experienced 
 as following from it, or in connection with it. Would 
 the clear and distinct knowledge of the constituent ele- 
 ments of a body enable us in any case beforehand to 
 predict its sensible effect, provided this effect is specifically 
 different in its appearance to the senses from the orig- 
 inal body or cause ? In the case, for example, of two 
 given chemical elements, could any analysis of these 
 enable us even to conceive or to anticipate, far less 
 determine necessarily — apart from experience of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 75 
 
 actual sequence — the character of the new resultant body ? 
 Even suppose there were the most perfect mathematical 
 knowledge of the proportions of the elements, would it be 
 possible to pass from this numerical knowledge to the 
 new object — say from two gases to the fluid we call 
 water ? No scientific inquirer would maintain such a 
 position, and he would be wholly right. 
 
 But the case is much stronger when we have a sensi- 
 ble body appreciable by one sense the effect of which is 
 an impression or quality apprehensible only by another 
 sense. Suppose we have a complete apprehension of the 
 particular molecular motion which precedes the sensation 
 of heat, should we be able simply from this knowledge 
 to predict, even conceive, the wholly new sensation abso- 
 lutely apart from any given sequence in which it oc- 
 curred ? The thing is impossible. Motion is an object 
 of one sense, heat of another. In other words, there 
 must be an appeal to a new form of organic suscepti- 
 bility. The same is true of the vibration preceding 
 sound ; of the molecular motion issuing in light or color ; 
 of the pain or pleasure we feel from sensational stimuli; 
 of every effect, of food, or poison, on the human organ- 
 ization; indeed, of the whole sphere of physical causality. 
 The truth is, that if this method of deduction were pos- 
 sible in a single instance, there would be no logical bar- 
 rier to our deduction of the whole ideas embodied in the 
 laws of the physical universe out of the primordial atoms. 
 And if the impossibility of anticipation hold in one case, 
 it will hold in all. Hence the conclusion is obvious, that 
 even if we knew the actual state of the totality of phe- 
 nomena in the world at any given time, we should be 
 utterly unable to predict through this its actual state in 
 the subsequent moment. But an absolutely demonstra- 
 tive physics is about the vainest of dreams. Physical 
 sequences cannot even be anticipated after this fashion; 
 far less can they be necessarily determined. 
 
 But does this method fare any better in Metaphysics in 
 the hands of Spinoza ? 
 
 i. Its first requirement is clear and distinct ideas of 
 what are assumed as ultimate metaphysical conceptions, 
 — the prima possibilia of Leibnitz. This knowledge is 
 given in the form of definitions, — eight in number. We 
 have definitions among others, of Cause (self-cause), Sub- 
 
76 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 stance, Attribute, Mode, God, Eternity. Of these the 
 primary idea, as shown in the propositions which follow, 
 is Substance. God is defined “as the being absolutely 
 infinite — i. e . , the substance consisting of infinite attrib- 
 utes, each of which expresses an infinite and eternal es- 
 sence. ® And we are told that “ that which is absolutely 
 infinite includes in its essence everything which implies 
 essence and involves no negation.® 
 
 2. It is assumed that what is involved in these defini- 
 tions, and capable of being evolved out of them, accord- 
 ing to a process of reasoning or manipulation of the 
 terms, constitutes our knowledge of the whole called the 
 Universe of Being. 
 
 3. It is assumed, further, that we can gain by this pro- 
 cess new and explicit conceptions of the variety of the 
 contents of the Universe: can, in fact, determine what they 
 are, can only be, and must be. This knowledge comprises 
 both material and spiritual reality; both the spheres of ex- 
 tension and thought or consciousness. 
 
 Now, first, looking at these definitions, will it be said 
 that we have anything like a clear and distinct knowl- 
 edge of the meaning even implied in the terms in which 
 they are couched ? Take, for example, the definition of 
 substance, which is really at the root of the whole mat- 
 ter. Spinoza tells us that by substance he understands 
 “that which exists in itself and is conceived perse;* in 
 other words, “ that the conception of which can be formed 
 without need of the conception of anything else.® As 
 thus stated, there can of course be but one substance. 
 Have we even any such conception as this ? Is this 
 expression more than a mere form of words ? Is there 
 anything in experience or consciousness into which these 
 terms can be translated ? Consciousness, which is all- 
 embracing, implies discrimination of thinker and thought 
 or object, — a relation between knower and known. Can 
 an object corresponding to the terms of a substance exist- 
 ing in itself, and conceived per se, appear or be in my 
 consciousness ? There can be nothing before it ; there can 
 be nothing else along with it; it must be at once thinker 
 and thought. It must be the simple indifference of subject 
 and object, absolutely beyond every form of predication. 
 Is the realization of such an object in our consciousness 
 compatible with the conditions of intelligibility or mean- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 77 
 
 ing ? Yet it is of this we are said to have a clear and 
 distinct idea: — and it is from this that we are able to 
 deduce the Universe of Being. 
 
 Now, let us compare this conception of Substance with 
 the same notion in the system of Descartes. (< By Sub- 
 stance 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 independ- 
 ent, and that is God. We perceive that all other things 
 can exist only by help of the concourse of God. And 
 accordingly, the term Substance does not apply to God 
 and the creatures univocally. ® Again, he says : <( By the 
 name God, I understand a Substance which is infinite 
 [eternal, immutable], all-knowing, all-powerful, and by 
 which I myself and everything that exists, if any such 
 there be, was created. ® He tells us that (< Substance can- 
 not be first discovered merely from its being a thing 
 which exists independently, for existence by itself is not 
 apprehended by us. We easily, however, discover sub- 
 stance itself from any attribute of it, by this common 
 notion, that of nothing there can be no attributes, proper- 
 ties, or qualities ; for, from perceiving that some attribute 
 is present, we infer that some existing thing or substance 
 to which it may be attributed is also of necessity present. ® 
 This is obviously a totally different conception from that 
 of Spinoza. Descartes denies entirely the apprehension 
 or conception of being per se. Even his infinite Substance 
 implies predication and relation. And the notion Sub- 
 stance implies experience to begin with, and a relation 
 involved in experience. Here, at least, the conditions of 
 intelligibility are not violated. We can put a meaning 
 into the words without intellectual felo de se. And yet 
 we are told that Spinoza simply carried out the principles 
 of Descartes. If to reverse the principles of a system as 
 a starting-point is to carry them out to their logical re- 
 sults, Spinoza has that merit. What he did really was to 
 take one element of a complete experience, or implicate 
 of experience, and to set up, as a first or starting-point, 
 the abstraction which he illegitimately severed from the 
 intelligible conditions recognized by Descartes. 
 
 But what of the relation of those ideas to experience 
 or reality ? Are they adequate conceptions of what is ? 
 
78 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 They are conceptions or definitions, no doubt, framed by 
 the mind; and by help of postulates and axioms all their 
 implied relations can be evolved out of them. But what 
 then ? Do they or their relations touch experience at all ? 
 Supposing we get the primary conception of all things, 
 the question arises, What is the relation of the concep- 
 tions following this and flowing from it to the order of 
 things ? Now here we have the gross incongruity of the 
 Spinozistic method. One might have expected that, if 
 clear and distinct conceptions are to be set at the head 
 of reality, clear and distinct conceptions following them 
 in necessary order would have been all that is necessary, 
 or at least all that we could legitimately get from such 
 a hypothesis. But no. It seems that those ideas are 
 essentially representative of things. The definitions or 
 hypotheses set at the head of the system express the 
 essence, the inner nature of things — otherwise they are 
 useless. There is a dualism, therefore ; there is an order 
 of things as well as of thoughts ; and there is a complete 
 correspondence, or, as he expresses it, identity between 
 the order of ideas and the order of things. And thus 
 id quod in intellectu objective continetur dcbet necessario in 
 natura dari. Here we are back again at subjective and 
 objective. There is the subjective idea — the clear and 
 distinct idea corresponding to the objective reality. But 
 what guarantee have we, on the system, of an objective 
 reality or order of things at all ? How do we pass from 
 clear and distinct idea of Substance or Cause to what lies 
 entirely beyond the order of ideas ? What legitimate 
 deduction can be made from clear and distinct idea, ex- 
 cept only another clear and distinct idea ? And can this 
 be regarded as representing something called nature, 
 which, in the first instance, it never directly knew ? 
 From the primary, clear, and distinct idea, if you can get 
 it, you may also get its sequences ; but these will only be 
 ideas following on ideas. The conception that they are 
 representative of an order of things beyond them, or that 
 there is such an order at all, is a mere hypothesis, and 
 one wholly illegitimate. 
 
 But Spinoza grounds the notion that there is a corre- 
 spondence between thought and extension, so strict that 
 the former is the mirror of the latter, on their super- 
 sensible identity in the same substance. He says that 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 79 
 
 mind and body are <( unum et idem individtrum, quod 
 jam sub cogitationis sub extensionis attributo concipitur. ® 
 Extension and Thought are thus said to be two funda- 
 mental attributes of the same substance, therefore really 
 the same, differing only in appearance or phenomenally. 
 Bodies are modes of the former; finite thought or souls 
 are modes of the latter. Hence the representative order 
 of ideas corresponds to the formal order of nature. As 
 an expositor has expressed it, (< Soul and body are the 
 same thing, but expressed in the one case only as con- 
 scious thought, in the other as material existence. They 
 differ only in form, so far as the nature and life of the 
 body — so far, that is, as the various corporeal impres- 
 sions, movements, functions, which obey wholly and 
 solely the laws of the material organism, spontaneously 
 coalesce in the soul to the unity of consciousness, con- 
 ception, and thought. * It is needless to criticise language 
 of this sort, though commonly enough to be met with. 
 It has neither coherency nor intelligibility. It slurs over 
 the real difficulty of the whole problem, as to whether 
 the unconscious nerve-action can pass or be transmuted 
 into any form of consciousness: it does not even touch 
 the question of proof, but takes refuge in mere assump- 
 tive verbalism. Nor is it of the slightest moment to the 
 argument to say that extension and thought are related 
 as common attributes to the one substance. This, even 
 if established, means simply that they are supersensibly 
 one; whereas the question before us is as to their corre- 
 spondence or identity in our experience. 
 
 But is this conception of Substance, or God, truly con- 
 vertible with the Reality ? Can we at any one time, in 
 any one act, or in any one category of thought, embrace 
 Being in its all-comprehending totality ? This is the real 
 pretension of Spinozism. We can have a thought — viz, 
 that of Substance within which lies the whole content of 
 Being, only waiting development. The assumption here 
 is that Notional Reality, called sometimes Thought, is 
 identical with Being, and that in its evolutions and rela- 
 tions we find the true Universe. But such a conception 
 is an impossibility from the first. Bare, or mere being, 
 mere is or isness, is all which such a conception contains. 
 Extensively this embraces everything actual and possible ; 
 but it is not, in the first instance, even conceivable per 
 
8o 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 se, any more than the isolated singular of sensation is; 
 and, in the second place, it has of itself no comprehen- 
 sion or content. It is incapable of passing into anything 
 beyond itself. Hegel would object to Spinoza’s position 
 here, by saying that while he was on the right line he 
 made his substance (< a pure affirmation, * incapable thus 
 of development. When Spinoza made it that, he made 
 it too much, — more than the indeterminate or uncondi- 
 tioned was entitled to. And when it is sought to be 
 added that <( pure affirmation * must be held to imply 
 <( negation, ® we are simply glossing over the difficulty by 
 applying to so-called notions of what is above experience, 
 conceptions and laws which have a meaning only in the 
 sphere of objects in definite consciousness. Moreover, a 
 notion which issues necessarily in negation, which goes 
 <( out of itself, M in the metaphorical fashion of the dia- 
 lectic, and so returns enriched — with its negation ab- 
 sorbed — is quite entitled to be relegated to the sphere 
 of the very <( purest Reason. w 
 
 Spinoza’s demonstration is, in short, the grossest form 
 of petitory assumption. It is not even attempted to be 
 proved that the definitions of substance and attribute 
 and mode, with which he starts, have objects correspond- 
 ing to them in experience. All that is alleged as a 
 ground of this is the clearness and distinctness of the 
 ideas. Nay, it is the boast of the system that objects 
 are deduced from them, and set in their necessary rela- 
 tions. But the definitions are merely postulates. All 
 that can be claimed for them is this character: Let the 
 
 term substance stand for so-and-so; let the terms attri- 
 bute and mode do the same, — and here are the necessary 
 consequences. But this cannot give more than a hypo- 
 thetical system of formal abstractions ; and what is more, 
 it can yield only petitory conclusions. Before the system 
 becomes real and typical of experience, it must be shown 
 that the definitions correspond to objects of experience. 
 This, however, cannot be done; in fact, they are assump- 
 tions, which transcend experience from the first; and if 
 it could be done, it would be fatal to the system as one 
 of pure reason. Nay, it cannot even be shown that the 
 method has a right to the use of the terms Substance, 
 Attribute, and Mode at all. These are simply stolen 
 from the language of experience. And as to the definition 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 81 
 
 of substance itself, it is essentially empty; for, as has 
 been remarked, the substance defined is neither clearly 
 conceived as the subject of inherence nor as the cause of 
 dependence. 
 
 The contrast is not the less if we look at the results 
 of the two methods. The analytic observation of Des- 
 cartes yields a personal conscious being — and a personal 
 conscious Deity, with definite attributes given to him on 
 the analogy of our experience. The deduction of Spinoza, 
 starting from a purely indeterminate abstraction called 
 substance, gives us, as the only reality of the Ego, a 
 mode of thought, or a collection of the modes of thought. 
 Thought and Extension are the two attributes of this 
 indeterminate substance, which, as such, is neither, and 
 yet both. Of these attributes, again, there are modes; 
 and the modes of thought are ideas, and the soul is one 
 of those ideas, or rather an assemblage of them. This 
 is man, — it is simply an anticipation of David Hume’s 
 (( bundle of impressions. ® This we may substitute for 
 the personal Ego of Descartes. 
 
 If we look a little more closely into the matter, we 
 shall find that the vaunted idealism of Spinoza is really, 
 when brought to the test, the merest vulgar empiricism. 
 Something he calls idea is the root or ground of the 
 human soul. But we are immediately told that idea 
 means nothing apart from object or ideatum. But what 
 is the ideatum ? It turns out to be body. The body 
 makes the idea adequate or complete. We have con- 
 stant asseveration of this point. The whole system of 
 Spinoza is a roundabout way of coming to say that 
 finite thought is an act dependent on object for its 
 reality, and this object is body. Now we may here 
 fairly set aside the big talk of the system about sub- 
 stances and conceptions. It turns out that the only 
 thought we really know is dependent on body or organ- 
 ization. We had substance to begin with, — the pure idea; 
 yet when we come to our own consciousness, this does 
 not come down in the line of thought from the infinite 
 substance. This is dependent as with Hobbes or Gas- 
 sendi, on a bodily organization, begged in knowledge for 
 the sake of giving reality to finite thought ! What, when 
 tested in experience does all this come to, except the 
 most vulgar form of empiricism ? If idea — the move- 
 6 
 
82 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 ment of finite thought — be impossible unless as cog- 
 nizant of bodily object, and object be essential to its 
 reality, — what is it but a reflex of organization? Of 
 course I may be told that extension is an attribute of 
 Deity, and that, in knowing it, I know God. But I am 
 afraid that if every act of knowledge even in sense is 
 constituted by the object or ideatum called body, I must 
 be limited to that object and its sphere. And as any 
 hypothesis about substance and its attributes must be re- 
 garded by me as a mere form of doubtful imagining, 
 Spinoza is merely the precursor of those specious high 
 forms of idealism, which in their essence coincide actu- 
 ally with the lowest forms of empiricism and negation. 
 Like empirical systems, they really abolish difference, 
 and thus may be expressed equally in the language of 
 the lowest sensationalism and the highest idealism. 
 
 But what adds to the marvel of the whole matter is 
 that this idea, which we venture to call self or self- 
 consciousness, is really the reflex of certain bodily move- 
 ments. These are forms of extension, no doubt; yet 
 their reflection is what we must take for the unity of 
 mind. In other words, the sum of movements in the 
 body, becoming object of the idea, gives rise to the con- 
 ception of the unity of self. The idea has nothing ex- 
 cept what it gets from the ideatum. This is a series or 
 assemblage of bodily movements; and these, mysteri- 
 ously reflected, form in consciousness the hallucination 
 of self and self-identity. Should we not be thankful for 
 demonstration in metaphysics! 
 
 We have seen what kind of Deity Descartes found and 
 represented. What is the Deity of Spinoza ? It is this 
 Substance, if you choose. But taken in itself, it is wholly 
 indeterminate; it has no attribute. Yet it necessarily 
 clothes itself in two Attributes, which we chance to 
 know — viz, Thought and Extension. But Divine or In- 
 finite thought is not conscious of itself, is not conscious- 
 ness at all. It knows neither itself nor its end; yet it 
 works out through all the fullness of space and time. It 
 is the blind unconscious immanent in all things, — in 
 what we call souls, and in what we call bodies — in con- 
 sciousness and extension. Deity in himself thus, as 
 natura naturans, is utterly void of intelligence: he is at 
 the best a possibility of development into attributes and 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 83 
 
 modes; though how he is so much, being wholly inde- 
 terminate to begin with, it is hard to see. Such a Deity 
 is incapable of purpose or conscious end. He is an order 
 of necessary development without foresight; he knows 
 not what he is about to do; it is doubtful whether he 
 even knows or cares for what he has done. He has 
 neither intelligence to conceive, nor will to realize a final 
 cause. He is impersonal, heartless, remorseless. Submit 
 to him you may; nay, must. Love him you cannot. His 
 perfection is the sum simply of what is, and must be. 
 Call it good or evil, it is really neither, but the neutrum 
 of fate. This Deity of Spinoza was neither identical with 
 the -Deity of Descartes, nor is it a logical development 
 of his principles. It is a Deity simply at once pantheis- 
 tic and fatal. And this is not a necessary or logical con- 
 ception following from the free and intelligent creator of 
 Cartesianism. It is in the end but another name for the 
 sum and the laws of things; and throwing out intelli- 
 gence from the substance at starting, it illogically credits 
 it with ideas in the shape of modes in the end. The 
 Deity of Descartes was an expansion of a personal con- 
 sciousness; not, as this is, and is necessarily; a simple 
 negation alike of intelligence and morality. 
 
 The lowering, almost effacing, of individuality in the 
 system of Descartes, is no doubt the great blot, and that 
 which most readily led to Spinozism. When me conscious 
 as a fact is resolved into thought as the essence of my 
 being — and when the external world is stripped of every 
 quality save extension, and is thus reduced to absolute 
 passivity, — we are wholly in the line of abstract thought. 
 We are now dealing with notions idealized, not realities, 
 or notions realized. The res cogitans and the res extensa 
 are essentially abstractions. The life we feel in con- 
 sciousness, the living forms we know in nature, are no 
 more. We are on the way to the modes of Spinoza, but 
 we are by no means called upon to accept either his 
 identification of those entities, — thought or extension — 
 or to embrace the incoherent verbalism of the indeter- 
 minate substance and its attributes. 
 
 The indistinctness with which Descartes lays down the 
 position of the conservation of the finite is a point which 
 no doubt suggested a kind of Spinozistic solution. He 
 makes conservation as much a divine act as creation. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 There is nothing, he holds, in the creature itself, or in 
 the moments of its duration, which accounts for its con- 
 tinued existence. Divine power is as much needed through 
 time for this continuity of life, as divine creation was 
 needed at the first. This doctrine might conceivably be 
 regarded as implying that the actual power or being of 
 the creature is at each moment a direct effect from 
 God, or, as a pantheist would put it, a manifestation 
 of the substance immanent in all things. This latter 
 was of course the Spinozistic solution of the problem. 
 But the idea of dynamic force of Leibnitz, — the self- 
 contained and self-developing power of the monad — going 
 back to the one primitive unity, or original monad of 
 all, and yet preserving a certain temporal individuality, 
 — was a more logical solution and supplement than the 
 immanent substance of Spinoza. God acted once and for 
 all. He delegated his power to finite substances. Though 
 these could not act on each other, they could spontane- 
 ously act. The true disciple of Descartes is thus not 
 driven necessarily to the Spinozistic solution, even if we 
 throw out of account Geulincx’s doctrine of Occasional 
 Causes. The logical successor of Descartes was certainly 
 Leibnitz, not Spinoza. It was Leibnitz who caught the 
 true spirit and the essential features of the system, and 
 in many ways carried it on to a broader and fuller 
 development. Spinoza’s was a retrograde movement into 
 the antiquated verbalistic thought. 
 
 Not satisfied, apparently, with contradicting the con- 
 sciousness of man in personal experience and in history 
 regarding himself and his nature, Spinoza ends by con- 
 tradicting his own speculative system, in setting up a 
 theory of morals. First of all, man, the subject of moral 
 obligation is a temporary necessary mode of the infinite 
 attribute, — unconscious thought; and all his poor thoughts 
 and volitions, are equally necessary developments. Yet 
 he is to be held as capable of moral action and subject 
 to moral law. Surely such a conception should in proper 
 Spinozistic fashion be rigorously put down as a mere 
 illusion, on the part of the mode of consciousness which 
 conceits itself to be, and to be free, when the only reality 
 is the Infinite, and there is nothing in time or space 
 which is but as it must be, or rather nothing save 
 necessary appearance. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 85 
 
 Spinoza was logically right when he said that there is 
 no good or bad with God ; that repentance is a weakness 
 unworthy of a man of true knowledge. But an ethic 
 after that is an impossibility. 
 
 But it may be said, and it is attempted to be made 
 out, that the finite or differenced reality is a necessary 
 part of the Infinite — is developed from it as a part of 
 moment, — that this is a manifestation of the Infinite — 
 that it is as necessary to the Infinite as the Infinite is 
 to it. Without meanwhile questioning the assumptions 
 here involved, I have to ask, How far does such a 
 doctrine lead us ? The finite or thing differenced from 
 the Infinite has various forms. What reality can there 
 be in finite knowledge ? Difference and distinction are 
 merely in appearance. The yes and the no, the true 
 and the false, the good and the bad, the veracious and 
 the unveracious, are merely in seeming and appearance. 
 Each is an abstract view: the real behind all this show 
 is the identity of their difference; it is the Infinite out 
 of which they come, and into which they are to be with- 
 drawn. This Infinite is an identity of all thoughts and 
 things. In this case, is not the whole of finite knowl- 
 edge and belief a simple illusion — a deceit played out 
 upon me the conscious thinker ? In fact, it subsists 
 by difference — yes and no are finite determinations, and 
 they are differences. Are these equally manifestations 
 of the Infinite in every given notion ? In that case 
 everything I assert as true is also false, and the false is 
 just as much a manifestation of the Infinite as the true 
 is. I oppose justice and injustice — veracity and non- 
 veracity: these are different — opposite. Their very reality 
 consists in the difference between them being and 
 being permanent. But if each is a manifestation, and a 
 necessary manifestation, of the same transcendent being 
 or infinite, if this infinite is in them equally, and they 
 in it equally, then they are really the same; and as the 
 Infinite goes on developing itself, we may well expect 
 their final absorption or identification. This doctrine of 
 a necessary manifestation of the Infinite in every finite 
 form of thought, in every general idea, is, if possible, 
 worse as a moral and theological theory than even the 
 vague indefinite of Spinoza. But such an Infinite is 
 really empty phraseology. It is the mere abstraction 
 
86 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of being, without difference or distinction, subsisting 
 equally in all that is. To say that it is the ultimate 
 truth of all is merely to say that all the differenced is; 
 hence all the differenced is the same. 
 
 A philosophy whose logical result is the abolition of 
 the distinction between good and evil, or the representa- 
 tion of it as only a temporal delusion, — which scorn 
 repentance and humility, and the love of God to his 
 creatures, as irrational weaknesses, — may be fairly ques- 
 tioned in its first principles. It may call itself the high- 
 est form of reason, if it chooses, but it is certain to be 
 repudiated, and properly so, by the common conscious- 
 ness of mankind. It is an instance, also, of the injury 
 to moral interests which is inseparable from the assump- 
 tion involved in a purely deductive or reasoned-out sys- 
 tem of philosophy, that knowledge must be evolved from 
 a single principle, — possibly a purely intellectual one, — 
 whereas the body of our knowledge, speculative and 
 ethical, reposes on a series of co-ordinate principles, 
 which are mutually limitative, yet harmonious. 
 
 It is claimed for Spinoza as a superlative philosophical 
 virtue, that he was entirely free from superstition, — had 
 a hearty and proper abhorrence of what is called com- 
 mon-sense, — held ordinary opinion as misleading, being 
 abstract and imaginative. He was thus the proper me- 
 dium for the passage of the immanent dialectic, a proper 
 recipient of the rays of the (< pure reason. ® This enabled 
 him to see things in their true relations, — their relations 
 to each other, and the whole which they constitute, — 
 and to see also that things are not to be judged by the 
 relation which they may appear to have to man. The 
 truth on this point is, that he was a man of extreme 
 narrowness, and incapable from his constitution of appre- 
 ciating the power and the breadth of reality, and shut 
 out nearly from the whole circle of true and wholesome 
 human feeling. His freedom from superstition as seen 
 in the light of his critical exegesis, means a total ignor- 
 ing of the supernatural or divine element in revelation. 
 Miracle is in his eyes impossible, to begin with, and 
 prophecy is only an ecstatic imagination. His contempt 
 for common-sense and common opinion is so extrava- 
 gant, that he wholly misses the germ of fact which 
 gives life and force to these, and which a careful ana- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 87 
 
 lyst of human nature cannot afford to despise. From 
 this bias he failed entirely to appreciate psychological 
 facts, and properly to analyze them. This analysis, 
 carried as far back as you choose, shows that per- 
 sonality, free-will, responsibility, are immediate in- 
 ternal convictions which lie at the very root of our 
 moral life. But these, however well guaranteed by 
 consciousness, are to be mutilated or wholly set aside in 
 the interest of a narrow deduction. The conviction of 
 free-will is a delusion. We have only forgot the neces- 
 sary determinations. Will and intelligence, two of the 
 most obviously and most vitally distinct factors in our 
 mental life, are submitted to no proper analysis. They 
 are simply identified. Spinoza was wholly destitute of 
 imagination; he decries it; and it is deemed sufficient to 
 put it aside from philosophy as subject to no other con- 
 ditions than those of space and time. But imagination, 
 of its appropriate kind, is as necessary to the philosopher 
 as to the historian or the poet. It is the means of keep- 
 ing his abstract thought vital, — of helping to realize its 
 true meaning, individualizing it and saving it from ver- 
 balism. In a philosophy which professes to represent the 
 universe in its absolute totality, why should the function 
 of imagination be mutilated or ignored ? This leanness 
 of spirit in Spinoza is not atoned for by the force of his 
 reasoning. It only becomes painfully apparent in the series 
 of statements said to be demonstrated, and in the arro- 
 gant spirit with which he treats both Aristotle* and Bacon. 
 The truth is, that his demonstration has no true cohe- 
 rency. It is faulty in its most vital point, — the connection 
 between the indeterminate or Substance, and the attri- 
 butes of Thought and Extension, or indeed any attribute 
 whatever. It was an attempt to reduce the universe to 
 a necessary order of development. But this necessary 
 order is wholly incompatible with an indeterminate basis. 
 Such a necessity of development is itself a determination 
 or attribute, and one that begs the whole possibility of 
 anything flowing from such a basis. The attribute of 
 Thought, moreover, given to Substance, — i. e., Divine or 
 Infinite Thought, — is wholly void even of consciousness; 
 and yet this is ultimately to develop into the modes of 
 
 * He speaks of «a certain Greek philosopher named Aristotle® 
 ( Tractatus , c. vii. ) ; and Bacon is <( a little confused.® 
 
88 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 consciousness known as human souls. This involves the 
 absurdity of supposing that the unintelligent Substance 
 as virtually a cause or ground, ultimately issues in intel- 
 ligence. A demonstration of this sort is the merest 
 incoherent verbalism. 
 
 XI. Development of Cartesianism in the Line of 
 Spinoza — Omnis Determinatio Est Negatio. 
 
 According to Spinoza’s interpretation of Descartes, the 
 latter is represented as holding the finite — whether self- 
 consciousness or extension — to be mere negation. The 
 real is the infinite substance which grounds these. Even 
 if this interpretation of Descartes were shown to be 
 erroneous, which it is, Spinoza would yet force this 
 meaning on the principles of Descartes — especially by 
 means of the principle, or at least the assumption, in- 
 volved in it — Omnis determinatio est negatio. This prin- 
 ciple, though only incidentally stated by Spinoza, is, we 
 are told, the whole of him. It certainly has been most 
 profusely used by those who have followed him in the 
 same line, and it is accepted by Hegel as virtually the 
 principle of his own dialectic. It is necessary, therefore, 
 somewhat fully to examine it in itself and its bearings. 
 A precise analysis of its real meaning should help to settle 
 the validity of a good many important applications of it. 
 The Spinozistic line in relation to Descartes is mainly 
 this, — that self-consciousness and extension as definite or 
 positive attributes — as, in fact, implying limit — are nec- 
 essarily negative of what is above and beyond themselves. 
 In fact, they do not imply the presence of the real by 
 being positive or definitely self-consciousness and exten- 
 sion. They, in this respect, rather imply the absence of 
 the real. And it is only when limit or definiteness is 
 removed from them that they become truly real. The 
 true real is the infinite substance — rather, perhaps, the 
 indeterminate. Accordingly, neither the self-conscious 
 Ego nor the reality extension have any proper existence 
 as individual substances or things. Whatever reality they 
 may have is only a mode of that which has absolutely no 
 limit, or more correctly, of that to which no limit has 
 been assigned — the indeterminate. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 89 
 
 1. The principle expressed in the phrase, Omnis deter- 
 minatio est negatio is, as employed by Spinoza, identical 
 with that of abstraction from limit. For the limit of the 
 individual requires to be removed at each step of progress 
 to the only true reality, the indeterminate substance. But 
 before I examine this meaning of the phrase, it is neces- 
 sary to consider it in its general signification, and to see 
 especially how, since Hegel gave it its full development, 
 it has been accepted by him and by writers of his school. 
 
 This principle of determination is explicitly stated in 
 the Logic of Hegel ( I quote from the Logic of the Ency- 
 clopaedic ), as far on as § 91, where, under Quality, he 
 tells us that the foundation of all determinateness is 
 negation (as Spinoza says), Omnis determinate est 
 negation Hegel has got by this time to Quality, — There 
 and Then Being — as a stage in the deduction from Pure 
 Being. It is necessary, therefore, to look back for a 
 moment at the previous stages of the dialectical process, 
 and to see how this principle is now stated for the first 
 time. We have previously the pre -suppositionless stage 
 of Pure Being, with its necessary implicate Naught or 
 Non-Being, and the resumption of the two moments in 
 Becoming. We have the whole pretension of the dia- 
 lectic laid bare. We have the pre-suppositionless Pure 
 Being; we have its necessary self-movement into its 
 opposite, and the inter-connection of the moments 
 summed up in Becoming; the pretension that those self- 
 evolved determinations are the predicates of Being. Out 
 of Becoming, as a fresh starting-point, we have the 
 moment of Quality ( Daseyn ), determinate Being in 
 Space, and Time, — Something ( Etwas ). This may be 
 regarded as the first step of the dialectic in the region 
 of definite cognizable reality. I do not at present pro- 
 pose to discuss those positions fully. If I did, the first 
 question I should ask would be whether there is here 
 an absolute pre-suppositionless beginning. I should cer- 
 tainly challenge the statement that pure Being as a 
 thought is pre-suppositionless. Such a thought or con- 
 cept is only intelligible in my consciousness; and the 
 process, at least, must take place there as the abstraction 
 from, and therefore the correlative of the concrete being 
 which I already know, from a source different from pure 
 thought. Hegel’s pure Being is just as much a shot out 
 
90 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of a pistol as Schelling’s intuition of the absolute, which 
 he so characterizes. The truth is, that pure being as a 
 simple abstraction from the conditions of apprehended 
 Being supposes an abstracter — an Ego, or thinker, whose 
 thought also is a correlative condition of its possibility, 
 and who, therefore, is at the beginning as much as the 
 pure Being is. Take the basis of the system as pure 
 Being, or as a concrete Some-being of consciousness, how 
 is either of these guaranteed to us ? We have seen what 
 is the guarantee of Descartes. It is intuition regulated 
 by non-contradiction. But what is the guarantee of 
 Hegel’s basis ? Mere is, or being, is an abstraction from 
 immediate consciousness. What guarantees this conscious- 
 ness ? What grasps this abstraction ? Nothing whatever 
 in his system. There is nothing to give the one; there 
 is nothing to guarantee the other. He has thrown away 
 the possibility of even holding the pure being as an ab- 
 straction: for it is an abstraction from subject and 
 attribute — from self-consciousness and its act. The 
 isness of pure Being is ex hypothesi , not deduced ; it is as 
 little guaranteed. It is the merest meaningless abstrac- 
 tion. On the other hand, reinstate self-consciousness 
 and its act of abstraction: this act is a process of con- 
 sciousness, as much as the act of doubt is ; and the basis 
 now is not mere Being, or pure thought; it is the very 
 definite one of a self-conscious thinker, who is the 
 ground of the abstraction and of the whole process of 
 development, instead of being a stage or moment merely 
 in the development. This self-consciousness is not deduced 
 at least; and no guarantee can be found for it save 
 intuition and non-contradiction. 
 
 2. I should deny, further, the thought of pure Being 
 per se, as a beginning; or a point from which any move- 
 ment of thought is possible. How can pure Being be 
 supposed capable of movement, or of passing into Noth- 
 ing, and thence gathering itself up into the unity called 
 Becoming ? Can the abstraction pure Being or mere 
 Being as conceived by my intelligence, pass into anything 
 to be otherwise named, or worthy of being so named, 
 because of a difference between the two ? This notion 
 can pass into another notion, ex hypothesi , only from it- 
 self, — of its own power of motion. We are told that it 
 does so pass, and it must so pass. How ? Because it has 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 9i 
 
 in itself an inherent negation, it must negate itself, — 
 place against itself its simple opposite or contradiction. 
 It is not meanwhile explicitly said which of the two. 
 Now I say in reply that the concept of pure Being — 
 mere qualityless, indeterminate Being, is utterly incon- 
 sistent with the concept of any inherent necessity of 
 negation or movement whatever. Movement and neces- 
 sity of movement are determinations — qualities or predi- 
 cates which are wholly incompatible with a purely 
 indeterminate concept as a beginning. Pure Being is the 
 mere Dead Sea of thought, and once in it there is no 
 possibility from anything it contains of anything what- 
 ever different from itself, or worthy of being named as 
 different, being evolved out of it. And if it is said that 
 the mere concept of pure Being involves the concept of 
 its opposite, non-Being, I say, in reply, in that case, the 
 beginning was not from pure Being, but from the corre- 
 lation of Being and non-Being, and there never was any 
 movement or dialectical passage in the matter. When 
 thus it is said, for example, that (< pure thought * must 
 issue in a world of space and time, — that it cannot rest 
 in itself, — we have a virtual confession of the impossi- 
 bility of conceiving (( pure thought }> per se, and therefore, 
 of any progress or movement from it as a starting-point. 
 The world of time, at least the singular or concrete, is 
 necessary even to its existence as a consciousness at all 
 from the very first. It means, in fact, that the universal 
 side of knowledge cannot be realized or conceived per se, 
 and as such cannot be the ground of any evolution. To 
 tell us that <( pure thought ® is synthetic, is simply a form 
 of words which covers the begging of the two points at 
 issue, — first, whether there is pure thought to begin with, 
 and whether pure thought can be qualified as synthetic 
 or anything else. The real meaning of synthetic here is, 
 that it expresses a relation already assumed between the 
 universal and particular, while it is meant to suggest evo- 
 lution or development of the latter out of the former. 
 
 3. Besides, to say this — that these two contradictories 
 are involved in a concept — is to give up the professed 
 problem of deducing the one from the other — that is, 
 of solving the contradiction ; it is to assume simply that 
 the contradiction already exists, and that the concept 
 embodying it is thinkable. The truth is, that so far as 
 
92 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 pure thought or pure Being is concerned, there is and 
 can be no movement. The Becoming which is con- 
 jured up to express its completion is not a product of 
 pure thought at all; and it might further be readily- 
 shown that this concept which is said to unite the 
 opposites does not really do so. It has no unity for 
 absolute Being and absolute non-Being. Nothing must 
 always be less than Being. Becoming, moreover, is a 
 concept which has meaning in relation to a definite 
 experience, where a determinate germ or form of being 
 rises to its own completeness or totality, as the seed 
 to the tree. But it is wholly inapplicable as a notion 
 to the abstractions Being and Not- Being — the falling 
 of one abstraction into another, or the stating the same 
 qualityless abstraction in different words, and delud- 
 ing oneself that one has got different concepts even 
 as moments. 
 
 4. But the pretension of the dialectic is, that there is 
 here from the first an application of the movement of 
 negation. Negation is the impulse of the whole dialectic; 
 it is the means by which pure thought moves from its 
 mere in-itselfness to the successive assertions or determi- 
 nations of thought and being, to quality, quantity, sub- 
 stance, and so on. Now I challenge the dialectic in the 
 first place with a double use, and an abuse, of the prin- 
 ciple of negation. It is applied equally to the indeter- 
 minate and the determinate. It is, first of all, applied 
 to the mere pure qualityless abstract of being. This is 
 not even something, not an Etwas , it is not in this or 
 that space of time — it is, to begin with, above relation 
 and category of any sort, it is not compassable by the 
 intuition of experience, or by the concept of the under- 
 standing. The question is, Can you apply to this the 
 laws of identity and non-contradiction ? Can you have 
 either affirmation or negation in any proper meaning of 
 those words ? Can it be said that the mere indeterminate, 
 call it Being or Thought, is identical with ; tself or differ- 
 ent from another ? Or can an opposite of any sort be 
 put against it ? The laws of identity and non-contradic- 
 tion are well known as to their nature and essence. The 
 nature of opposition, especially contradictory opposition, 
 in any form, implies a definite or determinate to begin 
 with. Something is at least cognized; nay, besides qual- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 93 
 
 ity in general, even definite attribute or class, ere the 
 negation can have a definite application or real meaning 
 at all. But how can the laws of identity and non-contra- 
 diction apply, when the alleged starting-point is wholly 
 indeterminate, not even fixed as this or that ? There is 
 only the mere abstract is or isness; but this is in every- 
 thing that is. It is thus impossible to negate except by 
 the mere abstract is-not. And as the former is not yet 
 applied to anything definite or determinate, not even to 
 something, there is only a possible negation, or rather 
 an abstract terminal formula, which we know cannot be 
 applied to two definite concepts at once, but which is as 
 yet applied to neither. This is a purely hypothetical 
 formula; there is as yet no actual negation, for there is as 
 yet not even this or that to which such a formula can 
 be applied. The purely indeterminate cannot be actually 
 negated, for the reason that the negation is as much the 
 indeterminate as the so-called positive is; and, therefore, 
 there is nothing to oppose it either as contrary or con- 
 tradictory. 
 
 The delusion thus propagated by the Hegelian logic is, 
 that this vague notion of being, — this mere indefinitude 
 — in fact, even mere qualityless being, — has in itself a 
 power of development. It has really nothing of the 
 sort. We rise out of it through a definite and accumu- 
 lating experience — not through a logical or rational 
 development. This indefinite is mere extension — mere 
 generalized empty width, — and unless experience of 
 differences or differenced things come to our aid, it will 
 remain the same vague indefinite for ever to us. The 
 facts or details of our experience or knowledge cannot 
 be filled up by any deduction from mere is or isness, — - 
 even from knowing that something is. It is predicable 
 of those different facts or details; but they cannot be 
 evolved from it. In other words, the things or kinds of 
 things in the universe must be known quite otherwise 
 than by mere inference from our first knowledge. This 
 source of knowledge is simply a successive and varying 
 experience, having nothing in common with the is or 
 isness of the starting-point, except that such an element 
 is involved in each new experience. And even though 
 is gave the thought of difference, — the is-not, — this 
 would imply no real being or possibility of advance. 
 
94 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 This is but a mere ideal negation, which a bad logic 
 galvanizes into a positive or reality. 
 
 5. But it may be supposed that the dialectic reaches 
 stronger ground when it comes down to Quality or De- 
 terminate Being. Here it is emphatically proclaimed 
 that Omnis determinatio est negatio , — that every deter- 
 mination not only implies but is literally negation. 
 
 Let us hear how Hegel himself states the point: — 
 
 <( Quality, as existing determinateness in contrast to 
 the negation which is contained in it, but is distinguished 
 from it, is Reality. Negation, whieh is no longer an 
 abstract nothing, but a There Being and Something, is 
 only form in this; it is other Being. Quality, since this 
 other Being is its proper determination, yet, in the first 
 instance, distinct from it, is Being for another, — a width 
 of Determinate Being, of Somewhat. The Being of Qual- 
 ity as such, contrasted with this reference connecting it 
 with another, is Being-in-itself. * <( The foundation, * he 
 
 adds, (< of all determinateness is negation (as Spinoza says 
 Oninis determinatio est negatio').'* 
 
 Again : <( Being firmly held as distinct from determi- 
 nateness, the In-itself Being, were only the empty ab- 
 straction of Being. In There-Being, determinateness is 
 one with its Being, which at the same time, posited as 
 negation, is bound, limit. Accordingly Other-being is not 
 an equal or fellow external to being, but is its own 
 proper moment. Something is, through its quality, first 
 finite, second alterable, so that finitude and alterableness 
 belong to its being. * 
 
 6. Now we know two kinds of negation, and if Hegeli- 
 anism knows a third, let it vindicate it articulately. In 
 the first case, we have pure or simple logical negation. 
 We can deny what a concept holds or affirms absolutely 
 or merely, without putting anything whatever in its place. 
 We can negate A by not-A, — one by none, — some by 
 none, — and the result is zero. We can negate, on the 
 other hand, by a positive concept which yet is opposed 
 to the positive concept with which we start, and which 
 we place in negative relation to it. We can negate 
 pleasure by pain, — green by red, — and so on. This is 
 real as compared with formal negation. Now, which is 
 used by the Hegelian dialectic ? Obviously not the former, 
 — not the purely logical negation ; and therefore the prog- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 95 
 
 ress of the dialectic is not of pure thought at all in 
 even a subordinate sense of that term. Absolute logical 
 negation leaves nothing in its place. The Something — the 
 Etwas , — being negated, leaves no positive in the shape 
 of Other. It leaves merely the ideal concept not anything 
 
 — or nothing, if you chose. The something is thus a 
 positive against a mere negation; but by a trick of lan- 
 guage it is sought to contrast this is or something, with 
 an other or positive being. This is unwarrantable. 
 Other or Another is not the proper negative of Some- 
 thing or Somewhat; this negative is none, or not-any. 
 This is mere negation, not position at all. That the 
 opposite of Somewhat is more than a mere negation is 
 simply an assumption of the point at issue. <( Limit in 
 so far as negation of something is not abstract non-being 
 in general, but a non-being which is, or that which we 
 call Other.” The questions for the dialectic here are the 
 possibility of movement from Some to Other, and the 
 nature of the Other as compared with the Some or Some- 
 thing. This passage is operated wholly by negation, — 
 by the negation of the immanent, ever pressing on move- 
 ment of the conditioning thought or concept passing into 
 negation. And every determination is negation. But the 
 is-not is no development of is; there is no motion or 
 progress from the one to the other; there is simple 
 paralysis of all motion ; and there is as little possibility 
 of any medium either between or above them. As David 
 Hume pointed out, this is the true or absolute contra- 
 diction. The dialectic at the earliest stage, and especially 
 later in the case of Quality, assumes what it ought to 
 prove, — nay, what is improvable, — that the negation of a 
 positive is always and necessarily itself a positive. Thought 
 is thus baptized synthetic : and this is deemed a sufficient 
 basis for the construction of the universe. 
 
 But let us take the other form of negation, — that of 
 mere opposition or contrariety. This we know well. Here 
 we negate one affirmative concept by another affirmative 
 concept. We negate the Somewhat by Some Other. We 
 negate red by green, — black by white, — square by round, 
 
 — and so on. Now we have got beyond the formalism 
 of the something and the opposite, — the position and the 
 mere negation. We are now dealing with definite con- 
 sents of some thing and other thing. But how do we get 
 
96 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the some other, or positive, which in this relation we set 
 in opposition to our original positive ? Can we get it by 
 pure negation ? This has been shown to be impossible. 
 All that negation implies is the relative assertion of non- 
 existence or non-reality. This implies nothing positive. 
 If, therefore, we set positive against positive as in real 
 or contrary opposition, we oppose one concept to the 
 first, which does not flow from that first by negation. In 
 fact, we are now dealing with species under a genus, — - 
 with the results of intuition, experience, and classifica- 
 tion, — results only possible, in the first instance, through 
 the negative regulation of the logical laws of identity 
 and non-contradiction; and we are setting positive con- 
 cept against positive concept, of which pure thought 
 knows nothing and can say nothing. We are now really 
 in the sphere of space and time. Here if we negate 
 one member of the constituted class by another equally 
 positive we know both members independently. But we 
 can negate even under contraries when we are ignorant 
 of the precise positive opposite. It is enough if the posi- 
 tive concept be opposed to some one of its possible op- 
 posites, for I may quite well say, the thing spoken of is 
 not this particular species under the genus; it is some 
 one of them, yet I do not know which. The sum is either 
 io, or 12, or 15, or 20. I know it is not lower than the 
 first, nor higher than the last; which I cannot say. A 
 definite opposite goes quite beyond pure negation; it is 
 a simple matter of experience, and experience alone. So 
 that, strictly considered, even real or contrary opposition 
 does not of itself imply a definite contrary concept; the 
 negation of a positive concept, when already subsumed 
 under a class, implies only the possibility of its being 
 found in some concept or other under the sphere of that 
 class. 
 
 From this we may gather the following as the rules 
 of determination: — 
 
 a. Determination is the condition of negation; there is 
 no actual negation unless in relation to actual determina- 
 tion. Negation, therefore, as a moment of progress or 
 movement, cannot follow the purely indeterminate. The 
 formula is and is-not, here, is but a terminal abstract, 
 and indicates only the possible or hypothetical applica- 
 tion of the relation to content not yet supplied. The 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 97 
 
 so-called movement on the principle of negation of Pure 
 Being into Pure Nothing is meaningless. 
 
 b. A determination does not imply a greater negation 
 than is requisite to preserve its reality as an affirmation. 
 This applies both to contradictories and to contraries — 
 e. g., Contradictory, as one and none; contrary, as 
 veracity and untruthfulness, or the ideal exclusion of the 
 violation of the law of truth-speaking. This obviously 
 holds in relation to contraries, where there is a. limita- 
 tion to certain possible members of a class. Hence it is 
 erroneous to maintain that every ( indeed any ) negation 
 is necessarily as positive as the affirmation or deter- 
 mination. 
 
 7. The doctrine thus maintained by Hegel, under the 
 category of quality, that every determinate being or ob- 
 ject of thought leads directly to that which is the other, 
 or negation of itself, is erroneous. But it is not less a mis- 
 take to maintain that every determinate object of expe- 
 rience is what it is, only because it is not something 
 else. This doctrine is not correct because a determinate 
 object of space and time — say hardness or resistance — 
 is not what it is mainly or only because it is not its op- 
 posite, contradictory or contrary. On the contrary, the 
 opposite, whether contradictory or contrary, is merely a 
 limitative concept in respect of its positive reality, and 
 lies necessarily in a different sphere, or one negatively 
 related to it. The reality of the object does not 
 depend on its not being in the other sphere; but the 
 existence of this sphere is relative to the previously 
 determinate character of the object. This determi- 
 nate character it has obtained as the definite effect 
 of a definite cause. Otherwise, we should have the 
 absurdity that the whole contents of space and time 
 could be determined, not by science or inductive re- 
 search, but by the negation successively of determinate 
 objects; and as in the case of real opposition, this nega- 
 tion might be many and various, we migiit .have the most 
 conflicting results vaunted as equally the results of nec- 
 essary deduction. Nay, in every case the determinate 
 would be explained by what is the very opposite of its 
 nature, as resistance by non-resistance, and sentiency by 
 insentiency. The fallacy here consists in assuming that 
 mutually exclusive concepts are, as correlative, identical, 
 7 
 
9 s 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 whereas they are simply limitative. This fallacy per- 
 vades nearly the whole logic of Hegel. It comes out 
 transparently in his doctrine of Essence, and in the de- 
 duction of Difference from Identity. 
 
 It is, further, assumed in this doctrine that a con- 
 cept, as possessed of definite qualities, is not an object 
 even of thought or meaning, unless in so far as the con- 
 cept of the negation of those qualities gives them reality 
 in thought; whereas the reverse is true, — the negative 
 conception is conditioned by the positive, and has itself 
 no meaning unless in relation to that positive. The ne- 
 gation subsists through the positive; not the positive 
 through it. In the case particularly of contrary oppo- 
 sition, while the positive concept is one and definite, 
 there may be many negations of it, — e. g., green may 
 be equally negated by red, black, or blue. But its real- 
 ity as a concept does not depend on our knowledge of 
 which of these is its counterposed negative. 
 
 8. Closely connected with this is another sense of the 
 principle Omnis determinatio est negatio. And it is this 
 sense in which it is brought especially to bear on the 
 first principle of Descartes. It is assumed as the char- 
 acter of determination itself that it is a negation, — a 
 negation of something or some concept preceding it, 
 really or logically. This meaning of the principle seems 
 to be common alike to Spinoza and Hegel; and it is 
 necessary to enable them to force on Descartes the 
 meaning which it is averred his system truly bears — 
 viz, that the real is not to be found in the determinate 
 of our experience, but in that higher sphere of which 
 it is simply a negation. Spinoza illustrates the prin- 
 ciple by reference to Body. But the results can hardly 
 be said to justify us in carrying it further. To know 
 matter as it really is, we must abstract from any limit 
 which it possesses. It is figured, for example; but 
 Spinoza tells us that this is a mere negation. It must 
 therefore be got rid of. Matter viewed infinitely or in- 
 definitely can have no limit; limit belongs only to finite 
 or determinate bodies — that is, they are defective in 
 possessing limit at all. They are not truly matter. 
 Matter is the non-figured. The fallacy here is not far 
 to seek. Matter in space is seen by me only as it exists, 
 a colored and extended surface, limited by coadjacent 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 99 
 
 color and extension. Difference of color is necessary to 
 our apprehension of figure in material bodies, and of 
 difference of figures. If I could suppose that there is 
 no color in bodies, there would of course be no differ- 
 ence of color, so therefore no difference of figure. But 
 with the absence of figure, would matter remain matter 
 to our vision ? or with the entire absence of extended 
 limit, or limit to touch, would matter remain matter to 
 touch ? Does the taking away of the limit or amount 
 of extension which a body possesses, leave or render 
 that body indefinite or infinite in extension ? Does the 
 taking away this limit in succession from all the bodies 
 of my experience leave or render these indefinitely or 
 infinitely extended ? There cannot be greater miscon- 
 ception than in supposing this. The true residuum in 
 such a case is not body infinitely extended, it is simply 
 the non-extended; for with the extinction of the limit to 
 the extension of the body — say a red line with begin- 
 ning and end — there is extinction absolutely of the 
 extension which I perceive or can know in the circum- 
 stances; that is, there is the extinction in every case of 
 the given body altogether. The residuum is a mere 
 blank indeterminate for thought. 
 
 But take this principle generally. Let us see its issue. 
 We have to abstract from the limits of the finite, and 
 the residuum is the real — the infinite. It is indeed the 
 only reality; the finite is only apparent or illusory. Now, 
 what is the residuum on such a process ? The mere vague 
 indeterminate of thought, and nothing more or else — 
 the so-called substance, in fact, of Spinoza. Let the finite 
 thing be my self-consciousness. I am conscious of an 
 act of volition, at a given time. To know the reality, 
 I have to abstract from the limits of this act. Volition 
 is a limit; so is self, and so equally is consciousness; so 
 also is my being at a given time: all these must be dis- 
 carded, and what remains ? No object of thought what- 
 ever. There is, if you choose, the vague possibility of 
 thought. Because I cannot actually deprive myself of 
 consciousness, but must always be supposed conscious 
 of some process of thought even in abstracting from the 
 limits of thought itself, this vague possibility of determi- 
 nation remains to me. But nothing actually is as an 
 object of thought; for if all limits be supposed taken 
 
too 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 away, nothing can be predicated. I cannot now even say 
 that the residuum is, for that would be a limit. I have 
 now reached an absolutely vague form of the suspense 
 of thought and knowledge itself. This may be called 
 the infinite — it is simply the absence of thought and pre- 
 dication. It may be called reality, and the only reality — 
 it would be better to call it nonsense. 
 
 9. To the Hegelian the substance of Spinoza is a pure 
 indeterminate. The negation of the finite or of finite 
 determination is held to be allowable and just, and with 
 it the abolition of the distinctive character of the mind 
 and body of our experience. But Spinoza’s defect is, 
 that he does not reach a proper first or whole. With 
 him it is the absence of quality rather than the presence 
 of Spirit. It is pure affirmation without negation ; 
 whereas it should be affirmation that necessarily negates 
 itself by affirming the finite. It is a simple indetermi- 
 nate or absence of determination; it ought to be that 
 which is self-determining, the living individual whole 
 or spirit, which manifests itself in all that is. But I 
 maintain that this absolutely indeterminate is the true 
 and logical residuum of the abstraction from all limit. 
 This process will not yield a positive in any form. 
 Finite self and consciousness being abstracted from, 
 there can remain no infinite self and consciousness. For 
 we are not here saying that the degree of the quality is 
 increased, — as when we say that there is intelligence 
 higher than our intelligence ; but we are seeking to throw 
 off limit and quality altogether. The very limit is a 
 negation, — a negation of the unlimited. The void inde- 
 terminate cannot be filled up by the Infinite Spirit. Nor 
 can we properly be said to have reached the knowledge 
 of a whole which includes our self-consciousness as a 
 part — whatever that may mean. This were simply to 
 take up the discarded limits, the definite predicates of 
 self and consciousness — and baptize them infinite self 
 and consciousness. The abstraction must be done in good 
 faith. Self, without or apart from limit, is to me 
 no-self; and consciousness, unless as a definite conscious- 
 ness, as a conscious act at a given time, is no consciousness. 
 Self and consciousness may indeed be regarded as logical 
 concepts. Self and consciousness are capable of being 
 thought by me as notions or as names for classes of 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 IOI 
 
 things. But as such they have their limits or attributes; 
 they are what they are, though determination and attri- 
 bution, like other notions; and they are realizable by me 
 only in connection with individual instances of them. 
 This is a totally different position from the abstraction 
 from their limits ; in fact, it is impossible under such an 
 abstraction. The residuum, accordingly, of this abstrac- 
 tion is not an infinite self or self-consciousness ; it is simply 
 a vague indeterminate, which is neither thought nor be- 
 ing, and which is possible at all or conceivable only 
 because while abstracting from all limits I surreptitiously 
 retain the limits of self-consciousness and thought. To 
 call this a whole in which I am included as a part, is to 
 apply an illegitimate analogy. Whole and part imply 
 limitation as much as finite self-consciousness does; and 
 we are not entitled to seek to express the absolute 
 abstraction from all limits by correlation or limitation. 
 
 It may, of course, be said that abstraction from the 
 limits of the Ego of consciousness gives us the notion 
 of an Ego in general. The Ego of my consciousness is 
 an individual embodiment of the notion of a universal 
 Ego. By abstracting from limits — that is, considering 
 me as but an Ego — or one of the Egos, I get to the 
 universal notion — Ego, the Ego. <( I ® is predicable of 
 me; it is predicable of others, it is predicable of God. 
 But what then becomes of the individuality which is 
 attributed to the infinite Ego, or infinite self-conscious- 
 ness ? How can <( I, ® the individual, be in any sense a 
 part or manifestation of this infinite Ego, if <( I ” and 
 ” He” are but exemplifications of a common notion ? 
 
 io. There is a sense, no doubt, in which we must sup- 
 pose that finite self-consciousness is related to something 
 beyond itself. As a reality in time, it has relations to 
 other points of being in time; and we must go back to 
 a ground of it, either in or above temporal conditions. 
 But the question at present is not whether this be so or 
 not; or whether we can reach a solution of this problem; 
 but whether in the way indicated we do or can connect 
 or identify our finite self-consciousness with what is here 
 called an, or the, Infinite self-consciousness. 
 
 The main objection to this view has been anticipated 
 in the criticism of the principle of determination involv- 
 ing negation. If in affirming my self-consciousness, I 
 
102 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 necessarily and knowingly negate an infinite self-conscious- 
 ness by imposing a limit upon it, I must be first of all 
 conscious of this infinite self-conscious being. He is 
 necessarily first in the order of my knowledge. Nega- 
 tion means previous, at least conditioning, affirmation. 
 Conscious limitation means a previous consciousness of 
 the absence of limit. I can only consciously impose limit 
 on that which had no limit, by knowing first of all the 
 unlimited. 
 
 Now this reduces the whole process to absurdity and 
 self-contradiction. If I know this infinite self-conscious- 
 ness which I negate in asserting myself, I must know 
 both before I know and before I am. My knowledge no 
 longer begins with me being conscious, but with me be- 
 ing conscious not of, but as, an infinite self-conscious- 
 ness, and that when as yet I am not distinguished from 
 it as either existent or conscious. Or do I distinguish 
 myself from this infinite self-consciousness when I know 
 it ? Then what becomes of its infinity? And how then 
 am I a mere negation of it or a moment of it ? Am I 
 identified with the primary consciousness of it ? Then 
 what becomes of me and my knowledge ? And how can 
 I be said to negate this infinite self-consciousness which 
 I am in order that I may be ? 
 
 But the truth is, that if every determination is a nega- 
 tion of a previous determination, there never was any 
 determination at all to begin with. Knowledge or de- 
 termination never could have a beginning; for as any 
 given determination is only a negation of another deter- 
 mination, and dependent on this other, every determina- 
 tion is a negation. But the negation at the same time, 
 needs a determination as a condition of its existence — 
 that is, it needs what, by the very conditions of the prob- 
 blem, is impossible. Such a statement implies not only the 
 non-commencement of knowledge — it implies the very 
 subversion of the conception of knowledge ; for it ends 
 in identifying affirmation and negation — z. e., in pure non- 
 determination. 
 
 ix. But what, it may be asked, is the moral bearing 
 of such a doctrine ? In order to get the truly real, the 
 first limit that must disappear here is our own indi- 
 viduality; we are no longer truly one; we are not really 
 distinguished from the infinite substance as individuals; 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 103 
 
 we have no independent existence or reality. But take 
 away the notion with which we delude ourselves that we 
 have an existence in any way distinct from the substance 
 of all, and a good deal else must go. Good and evil, 
 freedom, responsibility, all these must disappear with our 
 personality. It is because we think ourselves as distinct 
 from the substance which is identified with God, that we 
 are conscious of doing the right or the wrong, have merit 
 or demerit. But we may give up these thoughts alto- 
 gether; they have no reality; we need not trouble our- 
 selves either about good or evil, pity or repentance, pride 
 or humility. They are all the same in reality. Personality 
 as a limitation is a mere negation, is unreal; the only 
 true reality is the unlimited substance. To it all person- 
 ality is indifferent; to it also necessarily is all good and 
 evil ; these are mere temporary limitations of its develop- 
 ment. Regarded from the finite point of view, good and 
 evil are delusively distinguished; but these seeming dif- 
 ferences disappear the moment they are contemplated 
 from the point of view of the infinite substance. All that 
 is, is alike to it ; all is equally what it is ; there is really 
 ultimately no difference of right or wrong in the one — 
 that is, in the universe. 
 
 As for the abolition of the temporal distinction of good 
 and evil, and their identification in the absolute one or 
 substance, all that need be said is, that whatever be the 
 ultimate solution of the mystery of good and evil — whether 
 absorption or sublimation, or elevation of moral will in 
 the universe — this Spinozistic solution is obviously none. 
 It is the mere audacity of reckless assertion to say that 
 there is neither good nor evil in time — that neither 
 temporally is real; it is a misconception, moreover, to 
 suppose that abstraction of the differences between good 
 and evil really identifies them; the result is not identifi- 
 cation, but the destruction of each in thought; for the 
 difference being abstracted, neither remains to be identi- 
 fied with the other. And that they are the same in or 
 to the eternal substance, is only vindicable on the sup- 
 position that this substance is neither intelligent nor 
 moral, but a name for the suspension of both func- 
 tions. 
 
 II. But it may be worth while, in closing this section, 
 to look for a moment at the correction and supplement 
 
104 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of Spinoza, as put by Hegel himself. “Germany,® as 
 Trendelenburg tells us, “ knows the formula by heart 
 that Hegel’s great merit is that he defines God as a 
 subject, in contradistinction to Spinozism. which defines 
 him as a substance.® “Substance,® says Hegel, “is the 
 principle of the philosophy of Spinoza. But this prin- 
 ciple is incomplete. Substance is doubtless an essential 
 moment of the development of the idea; but it is never- 
 theless not the idea itself; it is the idea under the lim- 
 ited form of necessity. God is without doubt necessity 
 or the absolute thing, but he is also a person, and to 
 this Spinoza has not risen. Spinoza was a Jew, and he 
 placed himself at the oriental point of view, according 
 to which all that which is finite only appears as transitory 
 and passing. The defect of his system is the absence of 
 the Western principle of individuality which first appeared 
 in a philosophical form, contemporaneously with Spinoza, 
 in the monadology of Leibnitz.® 
 
 The points of the deduction are these: — 
 
 1. The tie which connects things, which causes a thing 
 to enter into actuality as soon as its conditions are ful- 
 filled, is Necessity. 
 
 2. This Necessity, considered in itself, is Substance — 
 the point of view of Spinoza. 
 
 3. But substance, as absolute power, is determined 
 in relation to Accident. It thus operates — becomes 
 Causality. 
 
 4. Substance is thus cause, inasmuch as, passing into 
 accident, it is reflected upon itself, and thus becomes the 
 original thing ( urspriingliclie Sac he — i. e. , thing presup- 
 posed in the effect). 
 
 5. The effect is distinguished from the cause; but this 
 distinction, as immediate or posited, is to be abolished. 
 Because the cause operates, there is another substance — 
 the effect — upon which the action happens. This, as 
 substance, acts in opposition, or reacts on the first sub- 
 stance. There is action and reaction. Causality passes 
 into the relation of Reciprocity of action. 
 
 6. The self-dependence of the substance thus issues in 
 several self-dependents, and thus the generated, like the 
 generating, is substance ; and because causes and effects 
 act and react, these are self-balancing. Effects are causes. 
 The substance thus remains in this change-relation iden- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 105 
 
 tical with itself. And herein lies the truth, — the concilia- 
 tion of Necessity and Freedom. 
 
 In other words, substance regarded simply in relation 
 to its attributes or accidents is a necessary or fatal rela- 
 tion ; regarded as cause operating effect, it is free or attains 
 to freedom, because what it produces necessarily is from 
 itself and identical with itself, is itself cause, and thus 
 remains <( with itself. * Substance in relation to accidents 
 is out of itself, or in relation to what is out of itself ; but 
 substance as cause in relation to its effect is as thus 
 cause identical with itself, and yet combines self-identity 
 with development. 
 
 There is hardly a statement in this series, or a link 
 of connection, which might not be properly challenged. 
 What does the whole amount to but an identification of 
 the relation of substance and accident with that of cause 
 and effect ? But apart from this, what is the identity 
 introduced ? Simply the identity or rather proportional 
 energy of substance as cause with effect as determined 
 result. Is this identity of substantial cause with itself ? 
 Will any one maintain that this is so in relation to 
 physical transmutation, or in relation to mental mani- 
 festation ? Is it so in any act of volition ? Then what 
 is the sense, if there is any coherent meaning at all, in 
 the position that accident or effect is cause in respect 
 of the substance or cause by which it is produced ? 
 Does the reflection or so-called reaction of an effect on 
 its cause constitute it a cause in respect of its own cause ? 
 Substances may generate other substances, and causes 
 other causes; but these are so not in respect of their 
 own substances or causes, but in respect of the accidents 
 or effects which in their turn follow from them. This 
 is simply a specimen of the common Hegelian fallacy 
 that correlatives, as mutually reflecting upon or implying 
 each other, are identical. This, though really the vital 
 point of the whole Logic, referring as it does to the 
 development of Spirit, is about the worst and weakest 
 specimen of so-called deduction in the system. 
 
 This process is brought forward as the true generative 
 or creative process of the universe of God and Man. 
 The theory has advanced on Spinoza; it has introduced 
 negation, superseded his pure affirmation, and solved 
 the problems of the infinite and finite, — of Liberty and 
 
io6 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Necessity. Substance has now become subject or spirit; 
 it is on the eve of passing into, or rather has in it the 
 power of, the Concept ( Begriff ), which posits in itself 
 differences which return to unity with itself. 
 
 The process, moreover, is not only the way in which 
 we may best think of God, but it is God — God passing 
 before us in the creation of himself and the universe. 
 He is thus far on his way to his true being, in the 
 complete realization of the process, in which, starting 
 from the primeval nothing, he creates himself and the 
 universe by a series of nots by which he is sustained 
 and enriched. 
 
 He is Substance developed into Cause, and thus into 
 Concept and so regarded as conscious subject or spirit. 
 He operates, and in the operation remains identical with 
 himself. But how is either consciousness, freedom, or 
 purpose provided for here ? Substance is under a neces- 
 sity of passing into cause, and cause again into effect, 
 which is counter-cause. What is there here beyond fatal 
 evolution ? If substance merely produces substance and 
 cause cause, what provision is there here for conscious- 
 ness or purpose ? Have we yet come to subject or spirit ? 
 Have we yet come to, or made the least approach to, a 
 unity of self-consciousness which is identical with itself, 
 or have we the slightest provision for conscious end or 
 purpose in the development ? What sort of freedom, 
 moreover, is that which is compatible with fatal emana- 
 tion, provided only the spring or source of that emanation 
 be either substance or cause itself, and the process of 
 emanation necessary ? Is this the highest kind of free- 
 dom, or the freedom which we are to attribute to Deity ? 
 It is infinitely short of the notion of freedom in our own 
 experience. <( In necessary emanation all is virtually pre- 
 determined, and freedom, though proclaimed the essence 
 of spirit, is necessity for the individual.® It is the free- 
 dom of which the material mass would be conscious, if 
 it were conscious at all, when let loose from the tie 
 which bound it to the height it descended to the earth. 
 Or, as Trendelenburg has well put it : (< Freedom, a grand 
 word, has thus in this relation no other content than this 
 comfort of the substance, that the upspringing are still 
 substances, and the effects as working against are again 
 causes. This relation is the most abstract reflection 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 107 
 
 everywhere applicable, where anything moves. Who ever 
 called it Freedom ? Then were necessity even freedom, 
 if the master strikes the slave ; for therein are they 
 identical that both are substances; and the slave who 
 gives up his back is operating in this opposite action, as 
 the master in the first cause.” 
 
 XII. Hegelian Criticism — The Ego and the Infinite. 
 
 The attempt to Hegelianize Descartes seeks to correct 
 him in what he said, and to bring out what he meant to 
 say, or at least ought to have said. It refers, of course, 
 particularly in the first instance, to his Cogito ergo sum. 
 That has to get a new meaning, or at least aspect, be- 
 fore it can be accepted as final or sufficient. Let us see 
 how the thing is to be managed. The scope, sense, and 
 guarantee of the first principle have already been ex- 
 plained. What is the Hegelian view ? 
 
 We are told, in Hegelian language, that the Cogito ergo 
 sum is not a sufficiently deep or primary basis of philos- 
 ophy. A mere certainty is not enough. The certainty 
 must be primary, nothing actually, but all things poten- 
 tially. The certainty which it gives does not lie at the 
 root of things. It implies a dualism of thought and 
 being; we must therefore go beyond it to something 
 more fundamental. Philosophy (< must penetrate to a 
 stage where thought and being are one — to the absolute 
 unity of both, which precedes their disruption into the 
 several worlds of Nature and Mind. It must show us 
 the very beginning of thought, before it has come to the 
 full consciousness of itself.” 
 
 Now whence is this must, this necessity of penetration 
 to an absolute unity, whatever that may mean ? How is 
 that, when we are supposed to be seeking a beginning of 
 philosophy, we are able dogmatically to lay down its 
 prerequisites in this fashion ? Have we already a phi- 
 losophy of what a philosophy ought to be ? In that case, 
 how can we be supposed to be seeking the beginning of 
 any philosophy ? Surely it is more in accordance with all 
 rules of sound scientific and philosophical procedure to see 
 whether we can go backward or upward to this unity, 
 after we have studied the facts and the conceptions which 
 
io8 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 they involve, than to assume that there must be such an 
 absolute unity for philosophy; and further, that we must 
 be able to know it, and to demonstrate all forms of reality 
 from it as a common basis. What is this but to assume, 
 at the outset, a particular solution of the great problem 
 of philosophy, while a more modest and circumspect 
 method would expect such a solution, whatever its nature 
 might be only at the end, and after careful inquiry ? 
 
 1. One is anxious to know precisely the points of the 
 
 proof for this Hegelian representation of the imperfec- 
 tion of Descartes’ doctrine and the necessity of its own. 
 There seem to be two main grounds of proof. These are 
 two statements or principles, which are given in a some- 
 what dogmatic fashion, as apparently self-evident. For 
 it is a characteristic of this pre-suppositionless philosophy 
 that it more than any other makes assumptions without 
 proffering either proof or warrant of them. The one 
 alleged principle is that, (< to be conscious of a limit is to 
 transcend it.® Or, more particularly, we are to identify 
 <( the consciousness of self as thinking with transcending 
 the limits of its own particular being, and so with the 
 consciousness or idea of God. ® <( Self-consciousness has a 
 
 negative element in it, — that is, something definite, and 
 therefore limited.® This is a statement of the principle, 
 and also a hint of its immediate application. The other 
 principle is the well-known Spinozistic aphorism that de- 
 termination is negation, — Chnnis determinatio est negatio. 
 
 The two principles now mentioned very closely coin- 
 cide. The negation refers to the qualities of individual 
 objects; the abstractions from limits refers to things as 
 in space and time, or to things as bounded. As quality is 
 itself a determination, it is a limit. In order to get at what 
 is truly real, we have to abstract from the actual limits 
 of individuals, — nay, we have ultimately to abstract from 
 all limit whatever and we shall find the only true reality 
 in what is then called the Infinite. Hegel is credited with 
 bringing out explicitly the principles which governed the 
 thought of Spinzoa. 
 
 2. The so-called principle Chnnis determinatio est negatio 
 has already been sufficiently exposed. Let us look now 
 at the other generality which is vaunted as a principle, 
 and, the ground of advanced philosophy. It is thus Hegel 
 himself states the principle: — 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 109 
 
 v The knowledge which we have of a limit, shows that 
 we already overleap the limit; it shows our infinity. The 
 things of nature are finite by this even, that limit does 
 not exist for them, but only for us who compare them 
 with each other. We are finite when we receive a con- 
 trary into consciousness. But we overleap this limit in 
 the knowledge even which we have of that contrary (other). 
 It is only the unconscious being ( der JJnwissende ) that is 
 finite, for it is ignorant of its limit. On the other hand, 
 every being which knows limit knows the limit as not a 
 limit of its knowledge, but as an element of which it has 
 consciousness, as an element that belongs to the sphere 
 of its knowledge. It is only the being unknown ( or of 
 which there is no consciousness ) that could constitute a 
 limit of knowledge; while that known limit is by no 
 means a limit of knowing. Consequently, to know one's 
 own limit is to know one’s own illimitability. Meanwhile, 
 when we conceive spirit as unlimited, as truly infinite, 
 we ought not to conclude that the limit is in no way in 
 the spirit, but rather to recognize that spirit ought to 
 determine itself, and therefore to limit itself and place 
 itself in the sphere of the finite. Only the understanding 
 is deceived when it considers this finitude as insurmount- 
 able, and the difference of limit and infinity as abso- 
 lutely irreconcilable, and when, conformably to this 
 conception, it pretends that spirit is finite or infinite. 
 Finitude, seized in its reality is, as we have just said, 
 in infinity. The limit is in the unlimited; and conse- 
 quently spirit is not infinite or finite, but as well the one 
 as the other. The spirit remains infinite in its finitude, 
 for it suppresses its finitude. In it nothing has an ex- 
 istence fixed and isolated, but all is found idealized, all 
 passes and is absorbed in its unity. It is thus that God, 
 because he is Spirit, must determine himself, posit in 
 him finitude (otherwise he would be only a void and 
 dead abstraction) ; but as the reality which he gives him- 
 self in determining himself is a reality which is com- 
 pletely adequate to him, God, in determining himself, 
 becomes in no way a finite Being. Limit is not then in 
 God and in the Spirit, but it is placed (posited) by the 
 Spirit in order that it may be suppressed. It is only as 
 moment that finitude can appear in the Spirit and remain 
 there ; for by its ideal nature the Spirit raises itself above 
 
I IO 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 it, and knows that limit is in no way a limit insuperable for 
 it. This is why it overpasses it, and frees itself from it. 
 And this deliverance is not as the understanding repre- 
 sents it, a deliverance that is never accomplished, an 
 indefinite effort toward the infinite, but a deliverance 
 in which the spirit frees itself from this indefinite prog- 
 ress, completely effaces its limit or its contrary, and 
 raises itself to its absolute individuality and its true 
 infinity. ® 
 
 Again ; (< To be annulled by and in its contrary there 
 is the dialectic which makes the finitude of preceding 
 spheres. But it is the Spirit, the notion, the eternal in 
 itself which effaces this image ( simulacrum ) of existence, 
 in order to accomplish within itself the annihilation of 
 the appearance. ® 
 
 We find the principle of this passage repeated in He- 
 gelian literature as apparently not requiring proof. We 
 are told that (< to know a limit as such is to be in some 
 sense beyond it ; ® <( the consciousness of a limit implies 
 the consciousness of something beyond it; ® and as ap- 
 plied to reality, it is said to follow that (< the dualism of 
 mind and matter is not absolute, and thought transcends 
 the distinction while it recognizes it.® We find it asserted 
 that (< if the individual is to find in his self-consciousness 
 the principle of all knowledge, there must be something 
 in it which transcends the distinction of self and not- 
 self, which carries him beyond the limit of his own 
 individuality.® Subjective consciousness passes into ob- 
 jective in the consciousness of God. It is because we 
 find God in our own minds that we find anything else.® 
 Finally, the result of the doctrine of the transcending of 
 limit is that (< our consciousness of God is but a part of 
 God’s consciousness of himself, our consciousness of self 
 and other things is but God’s consciousness of them, 
 and there is no existence either of ourselves or other 
 beings except in this consciousness.® 
 
 3. As applied to the Cartesian position, the correction 
 it yields may be summed up as follows: — 
 
 The being conscious, or the finite, is an illusion or pure 
 negation, if me-being or me-conscious is viewed as a 
 being or reality in itself, and having an existence dis- 
 tinct from, or even in opposition to, a non-self in the 
 form either of God or Matter — extension. I conscious 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 in 
 
 do not exist apart from my being consciously God him- 
 self — an infinite self-consciousness — or at least a part of 
 him, or an individual included under him as a part of his 
 consciousness in which I partake. It does not seem to 
 be affirmed that I, the individual conscious Being, am 
 really God, in the sense of being convertible absolutely 
 with his Being or consciousness. He passes in me and 
 over me, if he does not trample me out. I am affirmed, 
 however, to be a part or a moment in his consciousness, 
 whatever that may mean; so that I cannot be conscious 
 of myself without being conscious that, so far as I am 
 conscious, I am God, or his consciousness is my conscious- 
 ness, or my consciousness is his ; only my being conscious 
 does not exhaust his consciousness. The moment, how- 
 ever, that I conceit myself as anything but an indissolu- 
 ble part of the consciousness of God, I deceive myself, 
 raise illusion to the rank of reality. The only reality is 
 the Infinite; and I am in his development. That is all 
 I can lay claim to. This is true also of all the indi- 
 vidual consciousnesses of the universe ; they are not really 
 individual consciousness in the sense of being conscious- 
 nesses separate from the Divine consciousness; they 
 are simply moments in his consciousness: his conscious- 
 ness is theirs, and theirs is his. The Divine wave of 
 consciousness flows through all humanity — indeed through 
 all the universe ; for the different ascending stages 
 of being are but moments in the Divine consciousness 
 as it moves upward and onward from its dim uncon- 
 scious potentiality to self-consciousness in man, and to the 
 transcending of things in the absolute Spirit, which, in 
 knowing itself to be all, is all. 
 
 Several questions thus at once arise. The first of these 
 is the historical one as to whether it is the doctrine of 
 Descartes. This comes very much to inquiring as to 
 whether his statements, collateral with his main princi- 
 ple, give reasonable hints of it. 
 
 I. There can, I think, be little doubt that this identifi- 
 cation of finite self-consciousness and an infinite self-con- 
 sciousness, or consciousness of Deity, is a totally different 
 conception from that of Descartes. He no doubt holds, 
 that alongside the finite self-consciousness there is an idea 
 of the Infinite — an idea which is positive, which possesses 
 more reality than the idea of the finite. This idea is 
 
1 12 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 suggested to us, or it arises into actual consciousness, 
 through the conception of our own finitude, limitation, or 
 imperfection. It is, in fact, the correlate of the intuition 
 of self and its limitations ; but it is not, in Descartes’ view, 
 an intuition of being, as our self-consciousness is; it is 
 not, properly speaking, a consciousness of being at all; it 
 is not, as it has been improperly regarded, the conscious- 
 ness of God on the same level with the consciousness of 
 self — it is simply an objective or representative idea in 
 the consciousness of the finite being. The idea and the 
 reality of God are so far from being identical, that the 
 principle of Casuality is called in by Descartes to infer 
 the Being from the Idea. There is no identification here 
 of the finite self-consciousness as an intuition with the 
 idea even, far less with that which is totally separate from 
 the idea — the Being or consciousness of Deity. We 
 could not properly, on the Cartesian doctrine, even speak 
 of the consciousness of God, as we can of the conscious- 
 ness of ourself ; for, in the latter case, we are the reality 
 — in the former we are not even face to face with it. 
 
 1. But Descartes makes a further statement on this 
 point. He tells us that the idea of the Infinite is not 
 only positive, but <( in some sense prior w to the conscious- 
 ness of the finite — to my self-consciousness. This, of 
 course, would be contradictory to his main doctrine, that 
 self-consciousness is the first principle of knowledge, if 
 we did not remember that the priority <( in some sense * 
 of which he here speaks, is the priority, not of actual 
 consciousness, but of latency. He is giving, in fact, an 
 instance of his doctrine of Innate Ideas. These, accord- 
 ing to him, mean not ideas actually elicited into con- 
 sciousness, but ideas somehow prior to and conditioning 
 our actual consciousness, while appearing in it. And the 
 idea of the Infinite had, according to Descartes, a special 
 claim to be regarded as innate, because, unlike the ideas 
 of sense, it was not dependent for its actuality on phys- 
 ical conditions. This was not, however, a priority of 
 knowledge, but of potentiality or latency. This state- 
 ment cannot, therefore, be relevantly adduced as proving 
 actual knowledge before finite or self-conscious knowledge. 
 
 2. We fortunately have a perfectly precise explanation 
 of the matter by Descartes himself : <( I say, * he tells us 
 in explanation, (< that the notion which I have of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ”3 
 
 infinite is in me before that of the finite; for this rea- 
 son, that from this alone, that I conceive being or that 
 which is, without thinking whether it is finite or infinite, 
 it is infinite being which I conceive; but in order that 
 I may be able to conceive a finite being, it is neces- 
 sary that I retrench something from this general notion 
 of being, which consequently ought to precede. w 
 
 Two things are clear from this: a. That Descartes con- 
 fused the mere indeterminate of thought, what is as yet not 
 laid down as either infinite or finite, with the true conception 
 of infinity, b. That he cannot be cited as having conse- 
 quently countenanced the doctrine that the finite is a 
 mere negation of the infinite; for the simple reason that 
 he was not speaking of the true infinite, or of what he 
 in other places described as such. The finite might, as 
 a determinate notion, be a step further than the mere 
 state of non-predication; but it cannot be represented as 
 in any proper sense of the term a negation, far less a 
 negation of the infinite. And certainly it is ludicrous to 
 say, in such a case, that the so-called infinite or indeter- 
 minate has more reality than the finite or determinate. 
 It is truly void of any attribute or predicate whatever. 
 
 3. But if we look at the matter closely, we shall see 
 that there is no true contradiction in the two positions 
 of Descartes, that knowledge begins with the Cogito ergo 
 sum , and that in a sense the idea of God is in us prior to 
 the intuition of the Ego cogitans. For he quite distinctly 
 regards the knowledge of self and the knowledge of God 
 as of two different orders. In the one case we have an 
 intuition, — the reality is in consciousness, in a sense the 
 reality is the consciousness. The knowing and the known 
 are for the time convertible. In the other case, we are 
 distinct from the reality; we know it only represent- 
 atively or by idea; the existence of the object is not the 
 idea of it, the idea even is not commensurate with the 
 reality. And whatever be the mode in which we may 
 reach a guarantee of the reality itself, this is not by 
 direct knowledge or intuition of it, as in the case of the 
 Ego cogitans. The direct knowledge of the conscious ego 
 is actually the first. 
 
 4. It ought to be observed that while Descartes holds 
 the idea of the infinite to be true, real or positive, and 
 to be (< clear and distinct, * he does not hold it to be ade- 
 
 8 
 
H4 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 quate or commensurate with the reality. He holds, in 
 fact, along with these positions, that the infinite is incom- 
 prehensible by us. Nothing can be more explicit than 
 his statement on this point: — 
 
 (< The idea of a being supremely perfect and infinite is 
 in the highest degree true; for although, perhaps, we 
 may imagine that such a being does not exist, we cannot, 
 nevertheless, suppose that his idea represents nothing 
 real, as I have already said of the idea of cold. It is 
 likewise clear and distinct in the highest degree, since, 
 whatever the mind clearly and distinctly conceives as real 
 and true, and as implying any perfection, is contained 
 entire in this idea. And this is true, nevertheless, 
 although I do not comprehend the infinite, and although 
 there may be in God an infinity of things which I cannot 
 comprehend, nor perhaps even compass by thought in 
 any way, for it is of the nature of the infinite that it 
 should not be comprehended by the finite; and it is 
 enough that I rightly understand this, and judge that all 
 which I clearly perceive, and in which I know there is 
 some perfection, and perhaps also an infinity of proper- 
 ties of which I am ignorant, are formally or eminently 
 in God, in order that the idea I have of him may become 
 the most true, clear, and distinct of all the ideas in my mind. J> 
 
 Our knowledge thus is so far from being identical with 
 the being of God or the Infinite that it is not even ade- 
 quate to the reality of that being. The being of the 
 Infinite may be a consciousness, but it is not our conscious- 
 ness, nor is ours related to it as the part to the whole, 
 or in any way necessary to it. God is to Descartes <( a 
 substance infinite, eternal, immutable, independent, all- 
 knowing, all-powerful, by which I myself, and every other 
 thing that exists, if any such there be, were created. ® 
 But our knowledge of him is not adequate to his actual 
 infinity or reality; it is, in fact, but an analogical knowl- 
 edge, which does not contain all that he is or may be, 
 and which can at the best grasp his perfections not for- 
 mally but EMINENTLY. 
 
 So far, then, as the doctrine of Descartes itself is con- 
 cerned, there is no proof that he in any way identified 
 the finite and infinite consciousness. At the very time 
 that he says there is greater reality in the idea of the 
 Infinite than in that of the Finite, and that the former 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ”5 
 
 is in some sense prior to the latter, he distinctly infers 
 an actual Infinite, who is the cause of the Idea in the 
 finite, and thus makes as complete a dualism as if he had 
 laid down the material non-ego as an object of direct 
 perception. The true dualism of Descartes is that be- 
 tween the finite and infinite, the imperfect and the per- 
 fect ; and this is as repugnant to Hegelianism as a dualism 
 between thought and extension. 
 
 II. But the question arises — Can such a doctrine as 
 this be made self-consistent ? Is it coherent, or even 
 intelligible ? 
 
 1. Being is consciousness — these are convertible. My 
 consciousness is, and it is not. It is not while I think it 
 as mine; but when I conceive it as also the conscious- 
 ness, infinite consciousness, of God, it is. The infinite 
 consciousness or consciousness of God is, and it is not. 
 It is not apart from my consciousness; it is when I am 
 conscious. Infinite consciousness and finite consciousness 
 thus exist only as they exist in each other. They are 
 not co-factors — for neither is real by itself ; but each is 
 real in relation to the other. In fact, reality is in neither 
 of the co-factors ; each taken by itself is an illusion ; but 
 let the infinite go out into the finite, or let the finite 
 rise to the infinite, and both become real. There is just 
 one slight difficulty about this doctrine, and it is this — 
 that it gives up too much, and can get too little for its 
 requirements. If the infinite consciousness is by itself 
 an illusion, and the finite consciousness is by itself an 
 illusion — a mere non-entity — how does the illusory 
 infinite consciousness pass into or add on to itself the 
 finite ? and how does the illusory finite consciousness rise 
 to the infinite ? We must either suppose that the co-fac- 
 tors — the infinite and finite consciousness — had each an 
 independent existence before they became one, — in which 
 case their reality does not lie in their unity; or we must 
 suppose that what was simply unreal and illusory had 
 the power of becoming what is both real and true: or 
 we must hold that there was something beyond them 
 which constrained them to unite, or rather created them 
 in union — in which case, however, there was being 
 beyond consciousness. 
 
 2. Infinite self-consciousness is not (does not conceive 
 itself to be), unless it is (or conceives itself to be) finite 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 116 
 
 self-consciousness; finite self-consciousness is not, unless 
 it is (or conceives itself to be) infinite self-consciousness. 
 In bare formula, A is not, unless it is not-A (or B) ; not-A 
 (or B) is not, unless it is A. Strictly taken, neither the 
 one nor the other is ; only if either is, the other is : if one 
 is conceived, the other is conceived. Neither is by itself ; 
 both are, if they are at all. Up to this point, no state- 
 ment is made except that of a hypothetically necessary 
 relationship. Exception even might be taken to the valid- 
 ity of the alleged necessary relation. But waiving this 
 meanwhile, the question now is — Can this hypothetical 
 relationship be realized or fulfilled ? Do the terms of it 
 not preclude the possibility of its absolute assertion ? I 
 hold that they do, and that the problem as put is ab 
 initio null. We have merely a hypothetical see-saw. The 
 one term — viz, finite self-consciousness — is not, unless it 
 is the other term, infinite self-consciousness. There is, 
 therefore, no starting-point for determination. If the one 
 is not, until or unless it is the other, I can never say 
 that either the one or the other is, or that they both are. 
 If I had before me two exclusive alternatives, or even 
 correlates, equally coexistent, I could absolutely say, This 
 is, therefore the other is not; or, This is, therefore that 
 is also. If it had been said infinite self-consciousness and 
 finite self-consciousness are necessary correlatives, I could 
 have concluded that, when I got the one I had the other. 
 But if I say, as this formula does, the one is not unless 
 it is the other, I can determine nothing. For my finite 
 self-consciousness is not, until that infinite self-conscious- 
 ness which is said to be inseparably it, is also; and so the 
 infinite self-consciousness is not, until my finite self-con- 
 sciousness which is inseparably it, is also. I must, there- 
 fore, always beg the very thing which I am called upon 
 absolutely to establish, before I can assert or infer it. I 
 shut myself up in an absolute petitio principii. 
 
 I do not exist only in the consciousness of God; and 
 God does not exist only in my consciousness, and in the 
 consciousness of other minds. I have not merely a uni- 
 versal existence; and God has not merely a distributive 
 existence. At least these are propositions I am never 
 able to affirm, for the reason that I can never ex hypothesis 
 even be until I am not myself, but God; and God can 
 never be until he is not himself, but me. Or I can never 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ii 7 
 
 be conscious until I am conscious as God; and God can 
 never be conscious until he is conscious as me. I there- 
 fore can never know God’s consciousness; and he can 
 never know mine. As consciousness and being are iden- 
 tical, for the same reason neither God nor I can ever be. 
 
 3. But what precisely is the extent of the statement 
 that my consciousness is God’s consciousness, and God’s 
 consciousness is mine ? Is this the human consciousness 
 in all its modes or moods, thoughts, feelings, desires, 
 volitions — in all their limitations and imperfections — in 
 all their purity and impurity, their foulness and their 
 fairness ? Is this God’s consciousness, at least temporally ? 
 Is it his consciousness passing through man ? Then what 
 sort of Divine consciousness is this ? What of injustice, 
 falsehood, and slander ? Is this the Divine consciousness 
 in man ? At any rate, we need not deal much with its 
 ethical results. These are tolerably apparent. Had we 
 not better take refuge in Dualism ? Or is it only that 
 my consciousness is God’s consciousness in the sense of 
 logical or generic identity? — in the sense, that is, of the 
 two consciousnesses being the same in essential character 
 and feature ? So that we know at least, as Ferrier put 
 it, what God is, if we do not know that he is. In this 
 case, we have no real identity or identity except in 
 thought. We have the same identity which we have in 
 any classification. But this implies a duality of percep- 
 tion or intuition. And we have not yet reduced all con- 
 sciousness — i. e., all being — to one. 
 
 4. Although Hegelianism seeks to make the principle 
 of non-contradiction of very little effect in its system of 
 doctrine, we are at least, in the first instance, entitled 
 to try any doctrine it advances by this principle. For I 
 presume even Hegelianism, in establishing its own posi- 
 tions by proof, must in the first place assume these posi- 
 tions to be what they are alleged to be, and distinguish 
 them from their contradictory opposites. Self-consistency, 
 accordingly, must be postulated for any series of doctrines 
 which even it may lay down. Otherwise perfectly oppo- 
 site conclusions might be drawn from the same principle, 
 and thus all reasoning and all consistency of thought 
 be abolished. Now, applying this test merely, we haye 
 the me-being conscious, or the individual self-conscious- 
 ness which we suppose we find by reflection in our 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 1 18 
 
 experience pronounced to be ultimately only an illusion. 
 It seems to us to be real. There is self with an attri- 
 bute or series of attributes, which is distinguished by us 
 from any infinite self-consciousness which we may chance 
 to apprehend or know in any way, as it is distinguished 
 from other individual self-consciousness, which we may 
 find or conceive. If it be only individual or independent 
 in appearance or seeming to itself, how can this seem- 
 ingly illusory entity afford a process of proof or ground 
 of reason for detecting the true reality, which it, con- 
 sidered as independent, is not ? If my consciousness be 
 in the first instance illusory, fortified as it is by the law 
 of non-contradiction, regarding the nature and reality of 
 my own being, — how can it be trustworthy, in the sec- 
 ond place, regarding the true or ultimate reality of my 
 own being and of this infinite self-consciousness ? Let it 
 be observed, consciousness is the only reality; there are 
 not both consciousness and being in separation. These 
 are one and the same. Well, the only consciousness I as 
 yet know is my own; it asserts itself as such, and it is 
 impossible for me to doubt it. It asserts, as is admitted, 
 its own independent individuality, as opposed alike to the 
 Infinite self-consciousness, to other individual finite self- 
 consciousnesses ; but in doing so, it deceives itself. Can it 
 any longer, after that, be accepted as a reasonable trust- 
 worthy ground for determining the true reality ? Can the 
 illusory consciousness be trusted to rise to the true infi- 
 nite abiding self-consciousness ? Such a deceitful con- 
 sciousness is obviously too rotten a foundation on which 
 to build either philosophy or theology. 
 
 5. But it may be said the Idea here comes to our aid, 
 the idea in the march of <( the immanent dialectic . n This 
 comes in to correct the ordinary consciousness, which is 
 irreflective and superficial. It seems clear that the con- 
 sciousness of individuality, of which we here speak, 
 though common, has been dealt with by Descartes and 
 others in neither an irreflective nor a superficial way. 
 It has been tested and analyzed as far back as analysis 
 within the limits of human intelligence will go. It has 
 been found to assert itself under pain of self-annihi- 
 lation, of the annihilation of thought or consciousness 
 itself. I suspect no other philosophy can give another 
 or at least a deeper guarantee for its first principle. At 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 “9 
 
 least one would like to see it produced. But this imma- 
 nent dialectic of the idea, wherein does it appear ? How 
 does it make itself known or felt ? I presume in con- 
 sciousness, and within my consciousness, within some 
 individual consciousness; otherwise it is not and cannot 
 be anything to me or to any one conscious. But then 
 my consciousness, my individual consciousness, is pro- 
 nounced and confessed to be illusory. It is deceitful in 
 its very root; in holding itself to be what it most inti- 
 mately believes itself to be, in what it is absolutely con- 
 strained to think itself. How, then, does the immanent 
 dialectic of the idea, as at least in the first instance, and 
 as in knowledge, a form of consciousness, escape the 
 taint of this illusory consciousness in which it appears ? 
 How can I trust it when I cannot trust the deliverance 
 of the same consciousness regarding my own individu- 
 ality ? This dialectic may be called necessary, a neces- 
 sary evolution of the idea, and looked up to as the march 
 of omnipotence. But not less necessary and indisputable 
 is the self-assertion of consciousness, and yet it is but 
 illusion. Why may the necessity of the immanent dia- 
 lectic not be an illusion of the same consciousness ? How, 
 in fact, on such a principle, can we think it to be any- 
 thing else ? If the spring of knowledge be poisoned at 
 its fountain, what can purify its waters ? Or if our in- 
 telligence be a faulty and illusory prism, how can we 
 expect it to transmit or reflect the pure light of truth ? 
 
 III. After what has been said of the inherent incon- 
 sistency of the theory, it is hardly necessary to inquire 
 whether such a doctrine can be admitted as the neces- 
 sary and logical supplement of the view of Descartes. 
 But it may be well to examine the alleged ground of 
 its proof. This touches on a question regarding the 
 nature of consciousness, which has important general 
 bearings. 
 
 We have, in the passage quoted from Hegel, one state- 
 ment which is tangible enough to be grasped and ex- 
 amined, and it is the principle of the whole. It seems 
 that the consciousness of a limit overleaps or transcends 
 the limit, — in plain words, that when conscious of a 
 limit, say an opposite, contrary or contradictory, I neces- 
 sarily transcend that limit, and apparently take it up 
 into myself as a part of me — abolish it by absorption. 
 
120 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The reason of this which is given seems to be that, as 
 an object of consciousness, it is within my knowledge 
 or consciousness; and whatever is so, ceases to be a 
 limit or contrary to me. It is fused with me in the unity 
 of knowledge, and loses its character as an opposite or 
 contrary. I, the conscious thinker, become both myself 
 and the limit which restricts me to myself-being. 
 
 1. The first thing to be said about this principle is 
 that, if simply because a limit known is in conscious- 
 ness, it is necessarily transcended or abolished — then 
 there never can be a limit at all. For it is useless and 
 nonsensical to say that it is only the being of which 
 there is no consciousness, or which is unknown, that 
 could constitute a limit of knowledge. What is unknown 
 is for us undetermined to any alternative, or in respect 
 of any predicate — either as this or that; and so long as 
 it is unknown, could be neither limit nor the reverse to 
 us. If, therefore, limit be to us at all, it must be a con- 
 scious limit, or a limit known in consciousness; but how 
 can it even be known as such if, the moment I am con- 
 scious of it, it disappears ? The very possibility of the 
 existence of limit is first of all taken away by saying that 
 a conscious limit is not a limit at all; and yet it is im- 
 mediately asserted that there is a limit in consciousness 
 to be taken away. 
 
 2. But let us look at this principle in its main appli- 
 cation, and we shall see how very vague the statement 
 is, and how thoroughly misleading it frequently is. 
 
 Hegel speaks of consciousness ; but it is truly the con- 
 scious act which must transcend the limit, if it be trans- 
 cended at all. We cannot deal with consciousness in 
 general, for we know it as a reality only in this or that 
 special act. Now let us look at the main classes of those 
 acts, and test the alleged principle. Let us take Sense — 
 Perception. I apprehend, for example, a certain amount, 
 and therefore limit of space — say, as far as the horizon. 
 I am conscious at the same time that there is space be- 
 yond what I actually see. I can imagine space beyond 
 the visible space, and I can go on doing this indefinitely. 
 Here I transcend the limit of vision. But have I in any 
 way abolished the visible limit ? In no sense whatever. 
 The bounds within which my vision is exercised remain 
 to me as much bounds as ever, — as definite and unim- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I 2 1 
 
 passable by vision as before. I cannot see beyond the 
 horizon. All that I have done is, that I have ideally 
 added to the amount of space lying within the limits of 
 vision. In so doing I in no way affect the limit of my 
 original perception. I transcend it in imagination; but 
 I neither abolish it, nor do I absorb it in the con- 
 sciousness which I have of it, or of the imaginative ideal 
 which I join to it. And what is more, if I place the act 
 of imagination on the same level with the act of vision, 
 because both are in consciousness, I make an assumption 
 which I have not attempted to vindicate, and which is 
 not vindicable. For the act of vision is primary and 
 intuitive, and conversant with an object of a totally 
 different character from the secondary and ideal object 
 of imagination. 
 
 3. Let us try the principle by reference to the limit 
 experienced in Desire, a favorite Hegelian illustration. 
 To transcend the limit here, obviously means in thought. 
 When we are conscious of desiring a particular object, 
 we are conscious of the object desired, that we have it 
 not in possession, and we can conceive ourselves as 
 possessing it. That is (< transcending ” the <( limit * 
 implied in the desire. Nobody need dispute this. It is 
 stating the fact of desire and what is essential to it in 
 explicit words. But what then ? Is it transcending 
 the limit in any real or positive sense ? Does this con- 
 ception of what I seek put me, the seeker, in possession 
 of the object ? In other words, is my consciousness of 
 what I am or have added to by the conception merely 
 of what I want ? In that case, to desire must mean 
 that we have the thing desired. The transcending the 
 limit in the sense of being conscious of what the 
 limit is, and reaching the limit in consciousness, are so 
 wholly different things, that only a man inspired with 
 the belief that his consciousness even of a possibility is 
 the only actuality can accept such a conclusion. Nothing 
 could more clearly show that we are here dealing with 
 a new notionalism, related to reality merely as the 
 shadow to the thing. 
 
 4. But let us take logical limit. Here, if anywhere, 
 the doctrine ought to hold good, that the consciousness 
 of a limit transcends the limit. 
 
 In the constitution of a notion we have limit; limit is 
 
122 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 essential to the existence of a notion. In one point of 
 view a notion is an attribute or set of attributes named ; 
 in another, it is the (ideal) sum of objects in which the 
 attribute or attributes are embodied. Here distinction, 
 difference, therefore limit is essential. The attribute of 
 life, e. g., marks off the thing possessing it from others 
 which do not. Organization does the same; and but 
 for the distinction, and therefore limit, implied in the 
 notions, there would be no conception, knowledge, or 
 thought at all. It may be said that because I am con- 
 scious of the attribute life, and therefore of its opposite 
 or negative, I have transcended the particular attribute. 
 If to know what a thing is not, is to transcend the knowl- 
 edge of what it is, I have. This can hardly seriously be 
 regarded as either a novel or important discovery. But 
 this is not all that is meant or implied in the transcend- 
 ing, and we must inquire whether there is abolition of 
 the limit here, or absorption of it in the mere conscious- 
 ness of it. There is neither such abolition nor absorption. 
 If the limit be abolished by my being conscious of it, 
 there never was a limit to begin with, for there was no 
 limit of which I was not conscious. And if the limit be 
 abolished at all, then the attribute itself is abolished, its 
 very reality as an object of thought is subverted, and 
 there is the blank of knowledge. As to absorption in a 
 third notion which embraces or is identical alike with 
 life and its contradictory opposite — or even contrary op- 
 posite — we must wait until this third is produced. It is 
 a mere confusion of thought to suppose that because I 
 know opposites in one and the same act — grasp them in 
 a unity of knowledge — the opposites themselves are nec- 
 essarily identified or absorbed. Both are in consciousness ; 
 and in this way the contrary may be said to be “the 
 other » of the given attribute, but their real difference 
 subsists all the same — subsists in the consciousness itself, 
 on pain of the very abolition of knowledge. Correlation 
 even excludes identity; and the moment correlatives are 
 identified the correlation ceases. 
 
 5. Let us look at the principle in its application to the 
 Dualism of Mind and Matter. 
 
 Because we are conscious of mind and matter as two 
 realities, we know (are conscious) of something beyond 
 the dualism or limit. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 123 
 
 Thought is conscious, and conscious not only of itself, 
 hut of extension. It transcends, therefore, the absolute 
 distinction between itself and the other attributes. 
 
 What is this transcendent something now known ? 
 
 a. Is it a unity in which the dualism disappears ? Of 
 this, what proof is there ? Are we actually conscious of 
 any such unity — conscious as we are of the dualism ? 
 
 b. Is the something the idea or conception of the possi- 
 bility of such a unity ? How does this destroy the dualism 
 or limit ? If we are conscious, or rather think, of such a 
 possibility, must we not always, to make this even intelligi- 
 ble, confront it with the dualism or limit of which we are 
 actually conscious ? 
 
 In this case, the consciousness of something beyond is a 
 harmless hypothesis, waiting proof of its reality. And the 
 statement of it is simply a confusion of consciousness 
 as intuition, and consciousness as embracing the possi- 
 bilities of thought. The ideal conception of a limit tran- 
 scended is not the actual transcending of the limit; and 
 it ought not to be put on the same level with an act of 
 intuitional consciousness. This is to put possibility 
 against fact or reality — the conception of the conditions 
 under which a thing is possible against actual definite 
 thought. 
 
 c. But let the object of knowledge gained in this tran- 
 scendent act be supposed to be actually either the indiffer- 
 ence or the identity of the subject and object of conscious- 
 ness. In either case the relation of contrast or opposition 
 between the two disappears. We have a knowledge above 
 relation and difference, and, therefore, above conscious- 
 ness. This statement is a simple contradiction in terms. 
 The words knowledge and conciousness cease to apply to 
 these barren formulae. The absolute identity of subject 
 and object in any form of consciousness we can reach, 
 is no more to us than a square circle. And to rest the 
 assertion of such knowledge or consciousness on the 
 simple statement that consciousness, in apprehending a 
 dualism, transcends itself, is to leave out the only point 
 demanding attention and proof. 
 
 6. But the statement may be looked at in its highest 
 generality as referring, not to this or that definite act of 
 consciousness, but to consciousness in general — con- 
 sciousness regarded as aware of limit in general in 
 
124 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 knowledge. It may be said — nay, must be said — logic- 
 ally, consciousness ultimately transcends itself — it passes 
 into something beyond itself. What is the meaning 
 of this ? The ultimate limit of consciousness is that 
 which separates it from unconsciousness. When it passes 
 into something beyond itself, does it pass into this oppo- 
 site — the unconscious? In this case, transcending itself 
 is simply ceasing to be or to know. Our conscious- 
 ness seems to be under the necessity of a logical sui- 
 cide. 
 
 7. We have a good deal of talk in these days of limit 
 in thought as self-imposed, and therefore superable, such 
 as we not only may but must overpass. In what sense 
 is any limit in thought self-imposed ? Is thought, then, 
 complete — totus , teres, atque rotundus — and does it thus 
 impose a limit on itself — a limit, say, of identity and 
 non-contradiction? This is absurd; for if thought already 
 be, it is independent of anything — be it limit or other 
 — which it may impose on itself; it is thought complete. 
 It need not be guilty of anything so foolish and arbi- 
 trary as this. But self-imposed limit is really an absurd- 
 ity. The limit in thought, or of thought, is the limit in 
 or as which thought exists — under which it is possible. 
 We think an object; in doing so, we think it as identical 
 with itself, that is one limit: we think it as contradis- 
 tinguished from what is not itself, that is another limit; 
 and our thought as thought, as existing or real, is a con- 
 sciousness of those limits. It does not impose them, for 
 the simple reason that it is not in existence before them, 
 is in and through them, and cannot exist apart from 
 them. The truth is, that consciousness itself is impos- 
 sible apart from limit — apart from the consciousness of 
 self and not self, the affirmation of this and that. And 
 if consciousness always and necessarily transcends the 
 limit, it always and necessarily transcends its own reality, 
 which, in plain English, means, it ceases to be. But the 
 whole point lies in this, that while each opposite or con- 
 tradictory is in consciousness, each is an opposite or 
 contradictory still, notwithstanding that they possess the 
 common element of being in consciousness. The fallacy 
 lies in making the common element of consciousness in 
 each convertible with the difference of the opposites of 
 which there is consciousness. There is, in fact, the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 125 
 
 usual Hegelian disregard of difference, because of a com- 
 mon element. 
 
 8. Those who seem to hold this doctrine talk constantly 
 of the doctrine to which it is opposed as implying that 
 knowledge is represented as limiting, and that all beyond 
 this is the vague unlimited, or unqualified. Now I cer- 
 tainly deny that this is a fair statement of the position. 
 Knowledge is not to be described as merely a limit — 
 that would be to define it by negation. Knowledge, 
 relative, or under limit, is a positive thing, the only posi- 
 tive thing we can have, and it is distinction or distinc- 
 tiveness which guards it as such for us. It is the content 
 of our knowledge which makes it real for us, not the bare 
 limit. The limit or law enables us to hold the content 
 definitely and distinctively; and if there be no fixity in 
 that, there is simply chaos for us. It is in the content, 
 too, of our knowledge, that its variety lies, and its pos- 
 sibility of increase or development. It is in this, too, 
 that change is possible, transmutation becoming develop- 
 ment; but this itself is impossible if every form of con- 
 sciousness is superable. For what would be the course 
 of human life and human knowledge if this were so ? If 
 everything must pass over into its contrary, — if we can 
 never hold anything as fixed or won for thought, — then 
 the aim of thought and life is not to reach the per- 
 fection of a type, as we generally imagine, but it is to 
 go on in endless unrest. Mere mutation, whether in an 
 endless line or in the Hegelian circle, is a low aim; it is 
 not true freedom, it is fate, and it is not worth living 
 for. There must be an ultimate type to which life and 
 thought aspire; and such a conception is utterly incom- 
 patible with the doctrine that the content and the form 
 of thought are equally unfixed. 
 
 9. One would expect cogent proof of such a theory as the 
 foregoing. But really such is far to seek. 
 
 Finite self-consciousness, it is said, implies infinite self- 
 consciousness, as finite spaces presuppose infinite space. 
 Is there any true analogy here ? Is finite self-conscious- 
 ness related to any infinite self-consciousness, as the 
 known points of space are to the imagined, whether in- 
 definite and infinite ? In the case of space we repeat 
 similars, coexisting similars; we have as clear an idea of 
 space from the smallest portion of it as from the greatest 
 
126 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 imaginable. It is at its full extent but a repetition of 
 points. Is this the case with regard to the relation be- 
 tween finite self-consciousness and infinite self-conscious- 
 ness ? Is the infinite self-consciousness simply the endless 
 repetition of finite self-consciousnesses ? In this case, we 
 should have an infinite series of finites, but this would 
 not make one infinite self-consciousness. We are as far 
 — nay, farther — from unity than when we started. Is 
 the infinite self-consciousness presupposed a self-con- 
 sciousness which is entirely above limit and predication 
 of any sort, except the general statement that it is a 
 self-consciousness absolutely without limit ? This state- 
 ment is really suicidal, if not positively meaningless. 
 The term self cannot be applied under such conditions; 
 and no more can the term consciousness. At any rate, 
 such a self is not the self of consciousness which we 
 know, and has no more logical or other connection 
 with it than it has with non-entity, or the blank of in- 
 definiteness. 
 
 io. The infinite self-consciousness and the finite self- 
 consciousness are two phrases which are bandied about 
 as if they were equally grasped by us, and this infinite 
 self-consciousness were as patent to our knowledge as 
 our own self-consciousness is. But the truth is, that 
 while we have a perfectly definite knowledge of our 
 own self-consciousness, personality, and individuality, as 
 a matter of fact or fact in time, we have no such knowh 
 edge of an infinite conscious personality. We may be 
 led to infer it from our own consciousness or from other 
 facts of our experience, or we may try to conceive it. 
 This even we shall find an exceedingly difficult task, 
 for a conscious personality above time and limit, yet 
 divided into an infinity of personalities in time — a me 
 that is every me, and yet itself above every me — is a 
 conception the elements of which are by us positively 
 irreconcilable. At any rate, this we do not find or ap- 
 prehend, as we do our own self-conscious reality. And 
 to speak of the consciousness of God as on the same 
 level of apprehension and evidence as our own self-con- 
 sciousness, without even offering explicit proof, is as bad 
 a presupposition as can well be imagined. 
 
 We might ask a question as to what an infinite self- 
 consciousness really means. It is an exceedingly 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 127 
 
 ambiguous phrase, a phrase into which it is hardly pos- 
 sible to put a consistent meaning. The only rational 
 analogy through which we can conceive any meaning in 
 it is that of extending our self-consciousness to the uni- 
 verse. We know that we are conscious all through the 
 bodily organism until we meet with a limit to the sphere 
 of our sentiency. This is the true and ultimate distinc- 
 tion between the finite Ego and the material non-Ego. 
 We may carry this analogy with us, and suppose that 
 there is an Ego who is conscious of himself all through the 
 universe of being, as we are conscious all through our 
 sentient bodily organism. But this is as yet to us nothing 
 more than a conception or ideal. We have no warrant, 
 simply because we are self-conscious within a certain 
 sphere or limit, to suppose that there is an all-pervad- 
 ing consciousness which appropriates to itself as its own 
 sphere of sentiency both all finite minds and all mat- 
 ter. Yet what else does an infinite self-consciousness 
 properly mean ? And will it be maintained that we have 
 an equal intuition of a being of this character with that 
 of our own individual existence within the sphere of 
 sentiency ? Is it not the height of unreason to maintain 
 further that we can make this conception reconcilable 
 with the individuality of finite minds ? or that in this 
 case the so-called reality of finite minds can be construed 
 by us as anything but a mere dream ? The self-con- 
 scious being who conceits himself as real, is merely a 
 thing to which the infinite all-pervading consciousness 
 permits a passing moment of self-illusion. 
 
 But what are the terms in which the Infinite or infi- 
 nite being, is represented ? It appears that we conceive 
 of the Infinite Being by the very fact that we conceive 
 of being without thinking whether it be finite or no. We 
 may take this as an explicit statement of what is meant 
 when there is talk of the infinite being. But what truly 
 does this mean ? Would any one acquainted with the 
 discussions on this point accept such a statement as a 
 correct description of what we suppose we mean when 
 we speak of the infinite being ? To be conscious of being, 
 without thinking whether it be finite or no — this is think- 
 ing being infinite. Then, in that case, simply because 
 we reach the indeterminate in thought — neither finite 
 nor the reverse, we have got the infinite! We do not 
 
178 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 predicate of the notion being, therefore our notion of it 
 is infinite! The cessation of predication is the infinite! 
 Well, such an infinite is not worth the paper it is writ- 
 ten on. But is this consistent with other statements 
 that the infinite is an infinite self-consciousness — that it 
 is spirit, and so on ? Certainly not. This so-called infi- 
 nite is the mere vague indeterminate of thought. It is 
 worse as a terminal description of the infinite than even 
 the indefinite of Mill. The true infinite, if there be a 
 positive infinite at all, in knowledge, is that of being in 
 one or other of its forms — that is, intelligible being 
 raised to such a height of conception that we are able 
 on grounds of evidence to say that it is an entity abso- 
 lutely without bounds. This abstinence from thinking 
 the object as either finite or not, is not a conception or 
 statement, even in terms, of infinity or the infinite ; it is 
 a mere indeterminate possibility of thought. 
 
 IV. But let us look for a moment at the bearings of 
 this doctrine on Finite Reality, especially the Personality 
 and Individuality of man. What is its fair logical con- 
 sequence ? Is it consistent with the facts of our experi- 
 ence ? 
 
 i. Individual realities, if the expression be allowable, 
 are the most vain and passing things in the world. 
 They have no true reality; they are, but they are only 
 as passing forms of the outpour of the infinite sub- 
 stance. They are as raindrops to vapor; the partial 
 manifestations of the ultimate reality — again, perhaps, 
 to return to vapor. All that can be said is, that this 
 infinite substance individualizes itself only again to 
 take the individual, perhaps, up into itself, or to let it 
 pass into other individuals; but the idea of anything 
 more than some necessary individualization need not 
 be admitted. The whole sphere, therefore, of human 
 individuality and personality, is swept away, so far 
 as any distinctiveness or permanency is concerned. 
 Each individual is I, Thou, He, at a particular point 
 of time ; but these Egos, or Selves, or Personalities 
 have little or no meaning or concern in the Universe. 
 These are simply forms in which the infinite sub- 
 stance must individualize itself. But that is all. Any 
 other ego or self besides me and thee and him will 
 do equally well, provided simply it is an ego. We pass 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 129 
 
 away from time, and other egos come in our place — 
 equally emanations of the infinite substance — and thus 
 the evolution or issue of this infinite substance is ful- 
 filled. As to why and how I am here, except that the 
 infinite necessarily evolves itself, I know not and need 
 not care. As to where I am going, and whether I am 
 going anywhere, this is equally left unaccounted for, 
 except that probably I shall return into that infinite or 
 indefinite being — that neutrum of Personality and Im- 
 personality from which I came. It might seem neces- 
 sary here even to call in the common experience or 
 consciousness of mankind, and to ask whether this is an 
 adequate representation of reality as we find it in ex- 
 perience, or as we find it suggested in experience. A 
 philosophy of this sort does not meet, it shirks essen- 
 tially the questions of highest and most pressing interest 
 to human life. Some development in things, a develop- 
 ment even of a particular sort, and according to particu- 
 lar laws — it being indifferent all the while what are, 
 whence are, and whither go the individualities, the con- 
 scious personal existences of the universe — except as 
 accidentally filling up the scheme of things which alone 
 subsists in the Eternal Substance or Reason, this is a 
 system which can satisfy only when faith and hope have 
 fled from the breasts of men, and they are convinced 
 that existence blossoms and comes to highest fruit only 
 in the passing aggregate of human self-consciousnesses. 
 
 2. But consciousness by a man of his being merely a 
 relative in the correlation of finite and infinite, really 
 makes him to be — constitutes his being. No man, there- 
 fore, who does not attain to this consciousness, ever is. 
 Who among men in the past have attained to this con- 
 sciousness ? Who of the actors, the speakers, even the 
 thinkers, of the world ? Who in history have really ever 
 realized this within their own consciousness ? I say none 
 — not one — none until Hegel himself, if he did this — in 
 formulating certain phraseology. It follows, therefore, 
 that all men before his time, believing, as they did, in 
 their independent individuality, have really never existed. 
 They were not ; they were a mere illusion to themselves. 
 They never rose to the speculative consciousness; they 
 never, therefore, rose to mere being. Their lives are to 
 be set aside as merely side-waters, having nothing to do 
 9 
 
13 ° 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 with the main stream of life. They cannot even be said 
 to be moments of the eternal being; for they were never 
 conscious of their true relationship to it, and therefore 
 never existed even as moments of it. Hegel could thus 
 quite consistently, yet inhumanly, say that justice and 
 virtue, injustice, violence, and vice, talents and their deeds, 
 passions small and great, guilt and innocence, the grandeur 
 of individual and of national life, the independence and 
 the fortunes of states and individuals, have their mean- 
 ing in the sphere of conscious reality, but that with these 
 the universal or world-history has no concern. It looks 
 only to the necessary moment of the idea of the world- 
 spirit. 
 
 3. To represent the world of human thought, feeling, 
 and volition as in itself a mere negation ; to do the same 
 regarding the world of extension, resistance, color, 
 sound, and all the manifold variety of sensible experi- 
 ence; to hold all this as a negation of an infinite some- 
 thing, which has never itself truly come within our con- 
 sciousness at all, is not to elevate but to degrade our 
 view both of man and the world. These are the most 
 positive objects we know; and if aught else be positive 
 or real, it is because these are positive and real, and we 
 know them to be such. So far from there being an in- 
 finite which is the only reality, there can be no infinite 
 which is a reality at all, if these be not in themselves, 
 as we experience them, what our consciousness testifies 
 they are, distinctive existences. Man’s spirit, so far, as 
 it is a negation, is a negation of the non-existent and 
 the unconscious; and the world, so far as it is a ne- 
 gation, is a negation of infinite vacuity in time 
 and space. These are the notions negated, if we 
 
 are to talk of man and the world as negatives. 
 
 The negation is of the previous absence of be- 
 ing) by the position of being — of consciousness and 
 
 material reality. The true correlation is between the 
 
 definite of time and space and the indefinite of both or 
 either. But this is an unequal correlation; it is not the 
 subordination of man and the world to a higher reality; 
 it is not the negation of a higher reality; it is not the 
 evolution of these from it: it is simply the statement of 
 the real as opposed to the unreal, which must be the 
 limit and condition to us of any conception of reality at all. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 131 
 
 4. Hegel himself no doubt imagines that he harmonizes 
 the reality of the finite with the infinite, as he thinks 
 that he conciliates realism and idealism. The ordinary 
 view of the reality of God and man is, according to him, 
 this : (< God is, and we are also. ® <( This, ® he says, (< is a 
 bad synthetic combination. It is the way of the Repre- 
 sentation that each side is as substantial as the other. 
 God has worship and is on this side, but so also finite 
 things have being ( Seyn ). Reason, however, cannot allow 
 this equipollence to stand. The philosophical need is 
 therefore to grasp the unity of this difference, so that 
 the difference is not lost, but proceeds eternally out of 
 the substance, without becoming petrified in dualism.® 
 Again : (< Phenomenon is a continual manifestation of sub- 
 stance by form. Reality is neither essence or the thing 
 in itself, nor phenomenon; it is neither the ideal world 
 nor the phenomenal world, it is their unity, their ident- 
 ity, the unity of force and its manifestation, essence, 
 and existence.® 
 
 The conciliation of infinite and finite thus given is 
 simply to substitute for both a process, an ongoing or 
 outcoming of the infinite, or indeterminate, called at a 
 certain stage substance and spirit. Reality is thus sim- 
 ply movement — movement in the phenomenal world. 
 This phenomenal movement, for there is here really no 
 phenomenal world, is all that is either of the material 
 world or of finite spirit. It is represented as an eternal 
 process of creation and absorption. It is a creation 
 which creates only that it may destroy; a creation which 
 simulates a dualism which never really is at any point 
 of time or space. A dualism which never exists in time 
 is no dualism ; a dualism which exists in thought only to 
 be abolished or trampled out by that in which it exists, 
 is a mere passing illusion. This is not a conciliation of 
 realism and idealism; it is the annihilation of everything 
 corresponding to reality, either in the material or the mental 
 world. It is the resolution of both into a shadowy 
 pageantry of a process in which nothing proceeds. There 
 is not the slightest ground for representing dualism as 
 an absolute opposition; and not the slightest approach 
 is made to a conciliation of the finite and infinite by 
 fusing both into a process or relation between terms the 
 distinctive reality of each of which is denied. The pan- 
 
* 3 * 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 theism which openly identifies God with the sum of all 
 phenomena may be false; it is not an absolute or inher- 
 ent violation of the laws of intelligibility. 
 
 5. But why speak of the phenomenal or of actual reality 
 at all on such a system ? The finite mind is simply in 
 the process; it is the process. In that case to what or 
 whom is there a phenomenal, an apparent ? How has 
 it any meaning unless there be a distinct finite intelli- 
 gence who apprehends it ? Again, is it phenomenal to 
 the Infinite Spirit ? This, however, is as much in the 
 process, or the process itself, as the finite spirit is. And 
 if it were phenomenal to an infinite spirit, how is the 
 phenomenal to it known to be identical with the phe- 
 nomenal of experience ? The truth is, that the Hegelian 
 reality may perfectly fairly be translated by the serial 
 impressions of Hume, which, having substratum neither 
 in God nor in man, are the merest passing illusion of 
 reality. 
 
 6. The fallacy of the whole logic, and the main result 
 of the system, in its bearing on reality, may be summed 
 up in a few sentences : — 
 
 Thought w is used in two diametrically opposite mean- 
 ings — unconscious and conscious thought; while the 
 former is so far spoken of in terms of the latter. First 
 of all, it is thought without consciousness; and yet it is 
 spoken of as in itself, i. e., it is credited with self-hood, 
 and also with power of movement into what is called its 
 opposite, and then with the power of gathering up itself 
 and its opposite in a third, which is itself enriched. In 
 other words, terms and phrases entirely without mean- 
 ing, unless as found in conscious thought, are applied to 
 this unconscious thought; it is made, in short, to act as 
 if it were conscious thought. 
 
 Secondly, at a later stage of its begged development, 
 it becomes conscious thought, a self-conscious ego, which 
 goes through several stages, turnings, and windings, until 
 it becomes a self-consciousness above the finite conscious- 
 ness and all finite reality: for it is both infinite con- 
 sciousness and finite consciousness; it is neither the one 
 nor the other, but the fusing of both. 
 
 That the unconscious" passes into consciousness is 
 assumed, not proved: the way in which it does this is 
 sought to be shown by clothing the unconscious in con- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 133 
 
 sciousness or its terms; and thus the disputed fact is 
 established only by a petitio principii. The ground of 
 the whole process is a form of vulgar realism which 
 identifies the unconscious with being; and the result of 
 the whole is a nihilism of contradiction in which both 
 positive thought and positive being disappear. The so- 
 called idealism is truly a veiled form of irreflective 
 realism; the so-called concrete or positive result of the 
 system is merely nihilism, or at the utmost phenome- 
 nalism. 
 
 V. Let us look for a moment at the Theological bear- 
 ings of the doctrine. It is adduced as a corrective of 
 prevailing views regarding the Divine Reality and Nature. 
 There are some positions regarding Deity which this ad- 
 vanced thought thinks itself competent to interpret in 
 its own way, and to correct. It is said, first, that if the 
 world or the finite material universe be regarded as 
 originating in the free-will of Deity, called arbitrary, its 
 connection with him is to be regarded as “external,” 
 “ accidental, ” and as having no proper or necessary 
 relationship to him. It is said, secondly, that in order to 
 give a reasonable character to this relationship, the finite 
 world must be regarded as somehow emanating from him 
 by a necessary connection, which stands clear out in the 
 light of reason. This, when fully examined, is found 
 to mean, not only that there is such a necessary con- 
 nection, but that it is deducible from the very notion of 
 Deity itself, regarded as the Infinite; and further, that 
 this is deducible by us as a process of thought or con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 1. Now, with regard to the first point, it is incorrect 
 and unfair to represent origination or creation by free- 
 will as an arbitrary act. It is to be regarded as an 
 arbitrary act only in the sense in which any act of free 
 resolution is an arbitrary act, this and nothing short of 
 it. And we need not go into the question of free-will 
 to know that will, the highest and best form of resolution 
 conceivable by us, is that regulated by a conception of 
 what is most fitting and best in the circumstances, or, if 
 you choose to employ a vague phrase, by reason. To 
 say that resolution is necessarily arbitrary, is itself a 
 mere arbitrary statement. So far from creation which 
 depends on an act of free-will, regulated by thought, 
 
134 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 evidencing only an external or accidental relationship, it 
 is in fact analogous to the very closest, most intimate 
 of all the relationships of our own consciousness. For 
 the closest tie which we know in our inward experience 
 is just that which subsists between me willing and the 
 resolution which I form. I relate resolution to myself 
 in a way in which I relate no other mode of conscious- 
 ness, neither feeling, desire, nor thought itself. It is 
 mine in the sense of being truly my own creation; and 
 it is to me the most fitting of all analogies for the mys- 
 terious fact of Divine origination itself. The finite as 
 thus related to the Infinite is truly the passage of the 
 Divine power into actuality or realization. It is only a 
 purely verbal logic, founding on verbal assumptions, 
 which can regard it as " external ” or "accidental.” If 
 it is to be comprehended at all by us, it must be in some 
 such way as this, and by some such analogy. Will, the 
 expression of personality, both as originating resolutions, 
 and as molding existing material into form, is the nearest 
 approach in thought which we can make to Divine creation. 
 
 2. With regard to the second point, the so-called 
 essential or necessary relationship of reason, the first 
 thing to be noted is, that the finite material or mental 
 world, which arises in this way, is and must be the only 
 possible world. If the Infinite is under a necessity of 
 development, he will develop in one definite way, and 
 in no other; and if he has developed in time, that de- 
 velopment is the one possible, and no other. Are we 
 prepared to take this consequence ? Do the facts of 
 experience warrant it ? Does the physical or moral 
 quality of the world warrant it ? Can we ascribe to 
 the finite material world which we find in experience 
 more than a purely hypothetical necessity ? No one, 
 I think, will venture rationally to do more than this. 
 Mechanical and chemical laws depend ultimately on 
 atomic existence, proportion, combination, and colloca- 
 tion. Organization and life are somehow also connected 
 with those circumstances. But is it not conceivable that 
 those ultimate material constituents of the universe might 
 have been different in various points of constitution and 
 adjustment ? Will it be maintained that the actual 
 order which we know has arisen is the only possible 
 order — the single necessary and essential development 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 *35 
 
 of the Infinite Power at the root of things ? Further, 
 does not the element of evil in the world imply a con- 
 tingency which is entirely incompatible with the sup- 
 position of a single possible best evolution from an 
 absolutely perfect Infinite ? At any rate, can we with 
 our lights prove this to be the absolutely best even in 
 the long-run? 
 
 The theology resulting from these principles may be 
 summed up, in these words of Leibnitz, in two propo- 
 sitions — <( What does not happen is impossible; what 
 happens is necessary.” 
 
 3. But let us first take this necessary development of 
 the Infinite or Absolute. Is it speculatively self-consist- 
 ent ? The finite comes from it necessarily — nay, it is, 
 as it originates the finite, material and spiritual. Its 
 reality is, therefore, dependent on its necessary develop- 
 ment and relation to the finite : the finite is as necessary 
 to it as it is to the finite. Yet this prior term of a mere 
 relation is an absolute — an infinite, self-sufficient, as such 
 needing nothing but itself for its existence! The term 
 absolute or infinite has no longer the slightest application. 
 The prior term here is a relative — pure and simple, a 
 mere relative, dependent for its meaning — nay, its reality 
 
 — on a development which it can no more control than 
 the body which gravitates can regulate or reverse its own 
 movement. A god who is only as he must be, producing 
 the contents of space and time — who is only a means to 
 these contents, is about the lowest form of mechanical 
 agency ever set up for man to worship. But further, if 
 an infinite or absolute cause is necessarily at work, must 
 not the effect be an infinite or absolute one ? If the cause 
 works necessarily, without let or control, must not its 
 whole power pass into act in the single given operation 
 or moment of action? Then, what have we here? Not 
 a finite result, surely, but a result infinitely or absolutely 
 great, and, therefore, coequal with the infinite or absolute 
 power at work. But what an absurdity does this land us 
 in ? Either the absolute perishes in the act of necessary 
 development, and we have a new absolute in its effect — 
 Deity has perished in creation, or we have two absolutes 
 
 — an absolute cause and an absolute effect — coexisting in 
 the universe. This is an inherent absurdity; and further, 
 what then becomes of our absolute monism ? 
 
136 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 4. But have we considered the full effect of the state- 
 ment that the finite is as necessary to the infinite as the 
 latter is to the former ? I am quite willing to take 
 the finite here spoken of as the finite in some form — 
 not the actual finite of space and time. Let it be any 
 finite form of being whatever. Deity, in order to be, 
 must produce this actual finite. His reality is dependent 
 on it. What kind of Deity is this ? A Deity waiting for 
 his reality on the finite thing which he cannot but pro- 
 duce ? The cause dependent for its reality on the effect ? 
 We are accustomed to think of Deity as possessing ex- 
 istence in himself — necessary and self-sufficient; and if he 
 have not this, he has no more or other reality than any 
 finite thing which arises in the succession of caus- 
 alty. But here, forsooth, he waits on necessary produc- 
 tion for his reality ! Is this conception at all adequate 
 or worthy of God ? Is not the self-conscious I, with its 
 free power of will, higher than this ? a better and more 
 elevating way of conceiving of God ? Is it not a higher 
 perfection than this to be able to say I will, or I do 
 not will — yet I retain my individuality: I am the center 
 and the possessor of powers which I can use, or not use, 
 as intelligence directs me, and as moral interests require ? 
 Is not this a higher grade of being than a something 
 which depends on the necessary production of a given 
 effect for its reality, and, which, further, must also depend 
 for the continuance of its being on the continuance of 
 the given effect ? For this is the logical result of the 
 doctrine, even granting it the most favorable terms. 
 For unless the effect continues, which is not provided 
 for by the theory, the producing power might quite well 
 be supposed to pass away with its own necessary effort. 
 And this is to be our advanced conception of Deity ! 
 
 5. But, further, finite being as an evolution of infinite 
 being is certainly variable as to content. We need not 
 again point out the absurdities of the necessary develop- 
 ment of infinite being. Is the finite being or development 
 not variable in content at the will — the reasonable or 
 righteous will, it may be — of the Infinite one? Then 
 what becomes of his infinity ? Can we conceive a 
 Being as infinite who is restricted to a single develop- 
 ment of finite being ? But if he is not so restricted, 
 but may evolve several forms of finitude, how can it be 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 137 
 
 said that the finite as a given form is equally necessary to 
 the infinite, as the infinite is to the finite ? If a conscious 
 personality is possessed of free will, how can it be said 
 that a given resolution which he forms is as necessary to 
 his power of free-determination as free-determination 
 with all its possibilities is to it ? Such a position can be 
 maintained only on the suicidal basis that a given finite 
 is as necessary to the infinite, as the infinite with all its 
 inherent possibilities is to it. 
 
 6. Then, further, there is the point to be established 
 that we have any conception, thought, or notion of the 
 Infinite which is at all adequate or truly distinguishable 
 from what is strictly an analogical notion, — whether, in 
 fact, the Infinite, in any form, is so comprehensible by 
 us as to be the basis of a necessary evolution of thought. 
 For even although it be admitted that finite and infinite 
 are as thoughts correlative, it has yet to be shown that 
 they are of the same nature, positive content or reality. 
 Unless this character can be vindicated to the Infinite 
 as a notion, it cannot be made the basis of a necessary 
 evolution in thought — of the actual finite, or anything 
 with positive attribute. 
 
 7. Then this evolution, even if compassable by our 
 thought, is but a process of thought. It would be the 
 ideal mode in which the Divine Power was supposed to 
 work ; but it would fall far short of any actual realization 
 of the ideal in time. It is, after all, but a process of 
 reasoning, in which the Infinite is assumed as major 
 notion, and in which, accordingly, we have but a hypo- 
 thetical conclusion. But we have really no guarantee 
 that the process either represents or is identical with any- 
 thing in time, or that it is adequate to or convertible 
 with the evolution of that finite world which we know 
 in experience. The mode or ideal of Divine Power, how- 
 ever distinctly conceived, leaves us wholly in the dark 
 as to whether the Power was ever exercised or not. This 
 can only be guaranteed on the assumption that the process 
 of necessary consciousness through which we proceed is 
 identical with Divine action — that, in fact, our thinking, 
 sublimated to the impersonal form of thought, is God’s 
 act in Creation. This is but a part of the larger assump- 
 tion that the real is the rational — or rather, that reality 
 means certain so-called necessary processes in the human 
 
138 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 consciousness, call it reason or by what name you choose. 
 This assumption, as unproved as it is unprovable, is con- 
 tradicted by the fact that the whole concrete world of 
 the sciences of nature and of mind is utterly untouched 
 by it. It is incapable of yielding a single fact or general 
 law of nature or of mind as manifested in consciousness. 
 Hegel’s (< Philosophy of Nature * and his (< Philosophy of 
 Spirit w have been long ago generally given up as utter 
 failures in point of consecutive thinking or fair evolution. 
 They are the mere manipulations of a harlequin logic, 
 which borrows in the premises under one guise of words 
 what it brings out in the conclusion under another. 
 
 8. But what, on such a philosophy, is Deity ? Or 
 rather, where is the place of Deity at all ? If we look 
 at the first stage of the development, he is the most 
 abstract conception possible, the Idea in itself, what may 
 be identified with nothing, yet credited with the power 
 of motion. This first moment is not even real. The Idea 
 becomes real or actual only in the development, in the 
 process. But this, again, is not absolute reality. We 
 find this the highest stage only in the Idea when it be- 
 comes absolute Subject or Ego, and contemplates itself 
 as everything that is. In other words, the unconscious 
 abstraction called thought, not at first God, not God even 
 in the process, becomes absolute self-consciousness in the 
 end. He is dependent even for this consciousness, that 
 is, for his reality, on retracing the steps which he has 
 somehow taken into the realm of nature, where he was 
 (< out of himself, w and so in the end finding himself in 
 his own supreme conscious identity. This result may be 
 translated into intelligible language by saying that Deity 
 is ultimately the highest point which human conscious- 
 ness can reach in the way of evolution or development. 
 He is the most which I can think him — nay, he is I 
 when I have in consciousness transcended myself, and 
 identified myself with him. Of course it will be said I, 
 the individual ego of this or that conscious moment, am 
 not God. But then I, the individual ego, am necessary 
 to his existence, as he, the infinite ego, is necessary to 
 mine. His reality lies in the conscious relation which I, 
 the individual, think as connecting me and him. This re- 
 lation is matter of my thought or consciousness. It is 
 not, unless in the consciousness of some one. Deity, 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 139 
 
 therefore, at the best or highest, is a process of my con- 
 sciousness. As I think, God is; and what I think, God 
 is. The step from this to the degradation of Deity to 
 the actual sum or the generic conception of human con- 
 sciousness is easily, and has been properly, taken. The 
 Hegelian Deity is really man himself — regarded as the 
 subject of a certain conscious relationship. 
 
 9. Deity, as standing in necessary relation to man, is 
 dependent on man for his reality; man, as standing in 
 necessary relation to Deity, is dependent on Deity for 
 his reality. The reality in either case is equal: Deity 
 has the reality which man has ; man has the reality which 
 Deity possesses. They are two terms of one relation, 
 and they exist only in the relation. If the reality of 
 Deity be interpreted as necessary existence, so must the 
 reality of man; Deity has no advantage in this respect 
 over man. If the reality of man be interpreted as a con- 
 tingent reality, dependent on the constitution of a rela- 
 tion in consciousness, so must the reality of Deity be 
 construed. Either thus existence, necessary and self- 
 sufficient, applies equally to God and man, or existence, 
 contingent and precarious, applies equally to man and 
 God. In the former case, man is God — he is God 
 developed; in the latter case, God is man — he is man 
 developed. In a word, we have Pantheism on the one 
 hand — we have what may be called Phenomenalism on 
 the other. God sinks to the level of a manifestation of 
 human consciousness, reaching reality only when the 
 speculative reason chances, in the course of things, to 
 develop into his notion. 
 
 <( A theory, ® says Trendelenburg, (< that the thinking 
 human mind is what makes the hitherto unconscious gocj 
 conscious of himself, could have arisen only under thq 
 influence of a logical view, according to which compre 
 hensive thought conceives the content from itself, re- 
 ceives no rational ready-made content from without, but 
 produces the determinations of being from itself. It 
 could have arisen only under the influence of a logic, at 
 whose foundation lies the entire presupposition that hu- 
 man thought, when man thinks purely, is as creative as 
 divine thought, and in so far is the divine thought itself. 
 Yet we do not, indeed, understand what the conception 
 of God at all means, and what God signifies to man, 
 
140 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 since it is only man that makes him conscious of himself, 
 and since God, though not like an idol, the work of hands, 
 before which the same hands that made it are folded in 
 adoration, is after all a product of thought, which can 
 hardly be adored and worshiped by the same thought 
 which woke it from its sleep, and enabled it to pass from 
 blind inertness to consciousness. w 
 
 io. As to Christ, he is nothing more than any man in 
 whom the speculative consciousness is developed. He 
 can but be God, by being God consciously — as he can 
 be man but by being man conscious of himself as God. 
 This any man can be — for the speculative reason is, if 
 not a universal property, at least a universal possibility; 
 and consequently the incarnation has no special signifi- 
 cance. Any man can be God incarnate; every man is 
 God, if only he knew it. The complete abolition here 
 not only of all theological, but of all moral distinctions 
 between man and God need not be emphasized. Strauss 
 and Feuerbach are the true consequent Hegelians. 
 
 VI. Hegel no doubt talks frequently of Religion, reli- 
 gious ideas, and Christianity. He professes indeed to com- 
 prise them in his system. His system is the essence, the 
 true reality, of which religious and Christian ideas are 
 merely the symbols. He has revealed the reality; all 
 else is mere representation. The truth is, there is not 
 a single term either in Natural Theology or in Chris- 
 tianity which is not perverted by Hegel from its proper 
 sense. The whole burden of his effort is, so far as Chris- 
 tianity is concerned, to convert what is of moral import 
 in Christian ideas into purely metaphysical relations, — 
 and these of the most shadowy and unsubstantial kind. 
 
 i. The aspiration after moral union with God is at the 
 root of all true ethical life, as it is of all religious life. 
 This means the harmony of the will of the individual 
 with the divine will. But the Hegelian conception of 
 this relation has nothing moral in it at all. For a moral 
 harmony he substitutes an identity of being or essence, — > 
 an identity of the human and the divine consciousness. 
 The dualism implied in a God distinct from man and the 
 world is with him a mere superstition. This metaphys- 
 ical identity may be a solid doctrine, or it may be repug- 
 nant to every principle of reflective thought. It is 
 certainly not a moral union; and it is not Christianity. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 141 
 
 It is a doctrine, moreover, incompatible with any proper 
 conception either of Sin, of Righteousness, or of Worship. 
 It is of a piece with the translation of the Atonement into 
 a consciousness of identity with God, and the consequent 
 freedom from fear and terror; and with the doctrine that 
 in getting rid of our subjective individuality in Deity we 
 get rid of the <( old Adam. M 
 
 2, There were two points in particular on which, we are 
 told, Hegel was always reticent in public — viz, the Per- 
 sonality of God and the Immortality of the Soul. In this 
 he showed that good ordinary common-sense which he 
 ignorantly mistook for the organon of philosophy pro- 
 fessed by some; for he knew shrewdly enough the only 
 view on these points possible on his philosophy. It is on 
 these points especially, as well as the historic character 
 of Christianity, on which the schisms of his followers or 
 clientele have taken place. We have three sections at 
 least, all more or less holding by his method and phrase- 
 ology. These have been called the Right, the Centre, 
 and the Left. The Right retains but the phraseology of 
 the master. We have the Centre party, represented, per- 
 haps, best by Michelet of Berlin. This is the party of 
 conciliation and compromise. 
 
 The most opposite dogmas on the ultimate questions 
 of metaphysics and theology are held together. True to 
 the principle of the identity of contradictories, we have pan- 
 theism and theism. The unconscious and impersonal Deity 
 necessarily produces the world ; and he becomes conscious in 
 man. A common or collective immortality of man is 
 necessary; because the Infinite must to eternity develop 
 itself. But an immortality of each man or of the indi- 
 vidual is by no means guaranteed; it is not necessary. 
 As is has been put by Michelet, (< the soul is immortal in 
 God only, and God is personal in man.” Christianity is 
 true and perfect; yet its real truth is only in the 
 Hegelian philosophy. Therein its true essence is to be 
 found. We have seen what that essence is. How much 
 of the essence of Christianity remains, we find in Feuer- 
 bach’s formula, ” Let the will of man be done ! w 
 
 Contradictory dogmas held in this fashion must in the 
 end prove too strong for the slender thread of identity 
 with which they are sought to be bound. And so 
 history has shown. Even the unconscious absurdity of 
 
142 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the logic must xiltimately lead men to choose one or other 
 side; and we can readily see which alone is possible on 
 the principles of the system. Hence there very soon 
 arose a left party in the school, and an extreme left. As 
 to Deity, the shadowy distinction between the Spinozistic 
 and the Hegelian original of things — substance and sub- 
 ject — readily became obscured and obliterated. 
 
 (< An absolute personality, w Strauss tells us, (< is simply 
 a piece of nonsense, an absurdity. ® What of the Infinite 
 Ego after this ? And why ? (< Because personality is an 
 
 Ego concentred in itself by opposition to another; the 
 absolute, on the contrary, is the infinite which embraces 
 and contains all, which excludes no thing. So far he 
 is quite right; we cannot literally conceive of an abso- 
 lute personality, as our own is a personality. Such a 
 conception is utterly incompatible with even one finite 
 personality, to say nothing of the totality of finite per- 
 sonalities. But what then ? Does his solution help us, 
 or must we take it ? <( God is not a person beside and 
 
 above other persons; but he is the eternal movement of 
 the universal making itself subject to itself; he only 
 realizes himself and becomes objective in the subject. 
 The personality of God ought not then to be conceived 
 as individual ; but as a total, universal personality, and 
 instead of personifying the absolute, it is necessary to 
 learn to conceive it as personifying itself to infinity. w 
 
 Now what really does this mean ? God is the eternal 
 movement of the universal making itself subject to 
 itself ! What may the universal be ? one might ask. 
 But apart from this, he or the universal is not a per- 
 sonality, to begin with; yet he becomes one and many 
 personalities. He is a process, a movement; but what 
 of its origin, law, progress, or term ? What is this but 
 a simple abstract statement that God means the on-going 
 of things, and that the only personality he is or reaches 
 is that in collective humanity ? Can we properly retain 
 the name of God after this ? Are we to bow the knee 
 to a juggle of words ? 
 
 3. We speak of the attributes of God in ordinary lan- 
 guage. We even believe in them. How do we now 
 stand ? Can an everlasting process have attributes ? It 
 is something working up to personality in finite beings. 
 Has it attributes ? The very name is meaningless. The 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 143 
 
 groping process to have goodness, wisdom, and love ! 
 It has not yet even self-consciousness. Yet I am asked 
 to call it God ! That I cannot do. The Ego which or 
 in which the process becomes self-conscious is alone 
 God. It never possessed an attribute till now; it was 
 formerly simply a creature of necessary generation — 
 though how it should be so much, nobody can tell. 
 
 4. Strauss, in the Leben Jesu (1835-6), had for his aim 
 to exhibit the essence of Christianity, to deliver it from its 
 external, accidental, and temporary forms. This was a 
 true Hegelian conception. But it was clear that the his- 
 torical character of the books and actors could not logically 
 remain on the principles he assumed. Not only the his- 
 torical character, but the distinctive doctrines, rapidly 
 disappeared in the development of the school, in the writ- 
 ings of Ludwig Feuerbach, Bruno Bauer, and Arnold 
 Ruge. 
 
 The movement was entirely in the line of diminishing, 
 in fact abolishing the supernatural or divine, and equally 
 the matter of fact or historical. The shadow of being in 
 itself and pure thought to which the Divine had already 
 been virtually reduced, naturally gave place to a deifica- 
 tion of humanity — not merely an anthropomorphic god. 
 Humanity itself having no true divine substratum, lost 
 both the knowledge of its origin and the hope of immor- 
 tality. The movement which began on the height of the 
 loftiest idealism thus issued, as might have been anticipated, 
 in a hopeless naturalism, — in the simple identifica- 
 tion of all things with God and ethically in an intel- 
 lectual arrogance which conceits itself as the depository 
 of the secret of the universe, while it is too narrow to 
 know even the facts. 
 
 VII. The representation of the doctrine of Dualism 
 made by Hegel and his followers is thoroughly incorrect. 
 Dualism is, of course, the great bugbear, whether it relate 
 to the finite realities of consciousness and extension, or 
 to the contrast of the finite and infinite realities. The 
 predicates in these cases are said to be held as fixed and 
 insuperable by the ordinary doctrine of dualism, whereas 
 Hegelianism introduces identity, even the identity of 
 contradictories. In particular it is insisted on (1), that 
 on the ordinary dualistic presupposition, as it is called, 
 there is an absolute opposition between the infinite 
 
144 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and the finite; and (2), that this is nnphilosophical, for 
 the finite in this case must be regarded either as some- 
 thing independent of the infinite — and this involves an 
 obvious contradiction — or it must be regarded as abso- 
 lutely a nonentity. Statements of this sort abound in 
 Hegelian writings. 
 
 One preliminary point to be noted here is, that the 
 doctrine of the absolute opposition of finite and infinite 
 is to be set down as unphilosophical, because it would 
 involve a transparent contradiction. As contradiction is 
 a legitimate moment in the Hegelian dialectic, the op- 
 position must so far be right enough; and even if the 
 opposition be absolute, the absurdity is not greater than 
 the alleged identity of the two terms, by which it is 
 sought to solve it. The consistent coexistence in thought 
 of finite and infinite is certainly not a greater absurdity 
 than a supposed concept in which the two become iden- 
 tical. Contradiction, according to criticism of this sort, 
 must be absurd when it is regarded as fixed, and rational 
 when it is regarded as superable. In the latter case, the 
 only mistake is that there was no contradiction to begin 
 with. But is this a true representation of the position 
 of a dualistic philosophy in the matter ? Is a dualist shut 
 up to hold either the absolute independence of the finite 
 or its nonentity ? Why what is the opposition between 
 the infinite and finite which the dualist really alleges ? 
 It is not an absolute opposition in the nature of things. 
 It is an opposition merely in the act of knowledge. And 
 the dualist is entitled to say this with a view to vindicate 
 the position, until it is proved that all the opposition we 
 think is identical with all the opposition which exists, or 
 that these are convertible. For the Hegelian to assume 
 this is to miss the whole point at issue between him and 
 the dualist. The dualist does not accept the convertibility 
 of knowledge and existence, and it is only on this as- 
 sumption that he can be shut up, and then only on his 
 own principles of logic, to the alternative of a contra- 
 diction between finite and infinite, or of the nonentity 
 of the former, or for that matter, of the latter also. 
 But no reasonably intelligent upholder of dualism, or, 
 which is the same thing, the relativity of knowledge, 
 would allow that the opposition which he finds in con- 
 sciousness between finite and infinite is an absolute 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 145 
 
 opposition, or one implying- a fixity or absoluteness in the 
 nature of things. In fact, the very phrases, limit of 
 knowledge or relativity of knowledge, imply that the 
 fixity or invariableness of the limit is in the thought or 
 consciousness. When we speak of a limit to the 
 
 understanding, we speak of the extent of our power 
 of conceiving things; but we do not necessarily im- 
 ply that the things conceived are really permanently 
 and invariably fixed or determined by, or as is the 
 capacity of, our thought. It is said for example, 
 
 the thought of finite existence, say myself, — renders 
 it impossible for us to think or conceive as coexist- 
 ing with it an infinite self or being. For the sphere 
 
 of being the finite self occupies, the sum of our being, 
 
 is excluded from that sphere or sum possessed by 
 
 the infinite self whom we attempt to conceive, and he 
 is thus conceived as limited. But in doing so we do 
 not affirm that a conciliation of this inconceivable is im- 
 possible, or that in the nature of things, the finite and 
 infinite reality which we vainly attempt to conceive 
 together are really incompatible. It is, therefore, noth- 
 ing to the point to talk of the predicates of the under- 
 standing being regarded as fixed, permanent, or invariable, 
 in the doctrine of the limitation of knowledge; for this 
 is, after all, but a subjective limitation which is main- 
 tained, and is in no way inconsistent with the possibility 
 of being, transcending conception. We say merely that 
 we cannot conceive the compatibility of an infinite being 
 with our own finite existence. We do not say or 
 allow that what we conceive is necessarily convertible 
 with what is, or with the possibilities of being. We are 
 not, therefore, shut up to maintain the absolute opposi- 
 tion, and consequently the absolute contradiction in 
 reality, of infinite and finite. Nor are we therefore 
 compelled to regard the finite as a nonentity in the 
 interest of the infinite, nor the infinite as a nonentity 
 in the interest of the finite. For despite the limitation 
 of our knowledge, in some way unknown to us as to 
 process or ground, the co-reality of finite and infinite 
 is, after all, compatible. Nay, in a transcendent sense, 
 all being may be one. It is not even necessarily main- 
 tained on the doctrine of limitation that the finite is 
 more than temporally distinct from the infinite. Evi- 
 io 
 
146 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 dence to decide those points must be sought for outside 
 the theory of limitation. The real question at issue be- 
 tween absolutism and the theory of limitation is not as 
 to the possibility of being out of and beyond limit, or 
 being that surmounts limit — for the former is con- 
 stantly loudly proclaiming this, and proclaiming it even 
 as the only real being, but as to the possibility of our 
 knowing such being, and connecting it conceivably and 
 rationally with the being we know in consciousness. 
 Relativist as well as absolutist maintains being above 
 limit; they differ simply as to whether this can come 
 within consciousness, in a sense in which it is to be re- 
 garded as truly and properly knowledge, and as to 
 whether we can so relate the definite knowledge and 
 being we have in consciousness with this transcendent 
 something called knowledge and being. If what has 
 been already said be at all well founded, we can rise 
 above the temporal contrast of finite and infinite in 
 thought only by sacrificing knowledge, by becoming the 
 absolute identity of the two we are supposed to know. 
 In this region we may expatiate at will among the 
 (< domos vacuas et inania regna ® of verbalism ; but we 
 shall not gather from it either what is fitted to increase 
 the reverence of the heart, or what may help us to read 
 more intelligently the lessons of the past, or guide us 
 better in the conduct of life. 
 
 All that the doctrine of limitation requires to make it 
 consistent and valuable is, that whatever happens in the 
 future of the universe, nothing shall occur in absolute 
 contradiction of what we now rationally know and be- 
 lieve. Our present consciousness may be, probably will 
 be, modified — in some sense, perhaps, transcended. But 
 it must not be contradicted. Our analogical knowledge 
 of God, even if raised to the stage of intuition, will re- 
 ceive greater compass, directness, and certainty; but this 
 will not be at the expense or the reversal of a single 
 thoroughly-tested intellectual or moral conviction. 
 
DISCOURSE 
 
 ON THE 
 
 METHOD OF RIGHTLY CONDUCTING THE 
 REASON AND SEEKING TRUTH 
 IN THE SCIENCES 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH AND COLLATED 
 WITH THE LATIN 
 
 ( 147 ) 
 
PREFATORY NOTE BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 If this Discourse appear too long to be read at once, 
 it may be divided into six parts: and, in the first, will 
 be found various considerations touching the Sciences; 
 in the second, the principal rules of the Method which 
 the Author has discovered; in the third, certain of the 
 rules of Morals which he has deduced from this Method; 
 in the fourth, the reasonings by which he establishes the 
 existence of God and of the Human Soul, which are the 
 foundations of his Metaphysic; in the fifth, the order of 
 the Physical questions which he has investigated, and, in 
 particular, the explication of the motion of the heart and 
 of some other difficulties pertaining to Medicine, as also 
 the difference between the soul of man and that of the 
 brutes; and, in the last, what the Author believes to be 
 required in order to greater advancement in the investiga- 
 tion of Nature than has yet been made, with the reasons 
 that have induced him to write. 
 
 (148) 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Good Sense is, of all things among men, the most 
 equally distributed; for every one thinks himself so 
 abundantly provided with it, that those even who are the 
 most difficult to satisfy in everything else, do not usually 
 desire a larger measure of this quality than they already 
 possess. And in this it is not likely that all are mis- 
 taken: the conviction is rather to be held as testifying 
 th at the power of judging aright and of distinguishing 
 Truth from Error, which is properly what is called Good 
 Sense or Reason, ~is by nature equal in all men ; and 
 that the diversity of our opinions, consequently, does not 
 arise from some being endowed with a larger share of 
 Reason than others, but solely from this, that we con- 
 duct our thoughts along different ways, and do not fix 
 our attention on the same objects. For to be possessed 
 of a vigorous mind is not enough ; the prime requisite is 
 rightly to apply it. The greatest minds, as they are 
 capable of the highest excellencies, are open likewise to 
 the greatest aberrations ; and those who travel very 
 slowly may yet make far greater progress, provided they 
 keep always to the straight road, than those who, while 
 they run, forsake it. 
 
 For myself, I have never fancied my mind to be in 
 any respect more perfect than those of the generality; 
 on the contrary, I have often wished that I were equal 
 to some others in promptitude of thought, or in clear- 
 ness and distinctness of imagination, or in fullness and 
 readiness of memory. And besides these, I know of no 
 other qualities that contribute to the perfection of the 
 mind; for as to the Reason or Sense, inasmuch as it is 
 that alone which constitutes us men, and distinguishes us 
 from the- brute s^I .am. disposed, to believe that it is to be 
 found complete in each individual; and on this point to 
 
 (149) 
 
‘DISCOURSE 
 
 150 
 
 adopt the common opinion of philosophers, who say that 
 the difference of greater and less holds only among the 
 accidents, and not among the forms or natures of in- 
 dividuals of the same species. 
 
 I will not hesitate, however, to avow my belief that it 
 has been my singular good fortune to have very early 
 in life fallen in with certain tracks which have conducted 
 me to considerations and maxims, of which I have formed 
 a Method that gives me the means, as I think, of gradu- 
 ally augmenting my knowledge, and of raising it by little 
 and little to the highest point which the mediocrity of 
 my talents and the brief duration of my life will permit 
 me to reach. For I have already reaped from it such 
 fruits, that, although I have been accustomed to think 
 lowly enough of myself, and although when I look with 
 the eye of a philosopher at the varied courses and pur- 
 suits of mankind at large, I find scarcely one which does 
 not appear vain and useless, I nevertheless derive the 
 highest satisfaction from the progress I conceive myself 
 to have already made in the search after truth, and can- 
 not help entertaining such expectations of the future as 
 to believe that if, among the occupations of men as men, 
 there is any one really excellent and important, it is that 
 which I have chosen. 
 
 After all, it is possible I may be mistaken; and it is 
 but a little copper and glass, perhaps, that I take for 
 gold and diamonds. I know how very liable we are to 
 delusion in what relates to ourselves, and also how much 
 the judgments of our friends are to be suspected when 
 given in our favor. But I shall endeavor in this Dis- 
 course to describe the paths I have followed, and to 
 delineate my life as in a picture, in order that each one 
 may be able to judge of them for himself, and that in 
 the general opinion entertained of them, as gathered from 
 current report, I myself may have a new help toward 
 instruction to be added to those I have been in the habit 
 of employing. 
 
 My present design, then, is not to teach the Method 
 which each ought to follow for the right conduct of his 
 Reason, but solely to describe the way in which I have 
 endeavored to conduct my own. They who set them- 
 selves to give precepts must of course regard themselves 
 as possessed of greater skill than those to whom they 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 151 
 
 prescribe ; and if they err in the slightest particular, they 
 subject themselves to censure. But as this Tract is put 
 forth merely as a history, or, if you will, as a tale, in 
 which, amid some examples worthy of imitation, there 
 will be found, perhaps, as many more which it were ad- 
 visable not to follow, I hope it will prove useful to some 
 without being hurtful to any, and that my openness will 
 find some favor with all. 
 
 From my childhood, I have been familiar with letters; 
 and as I was given to believe that by their help a clear 
 and certain knowledge of all that is useful in life might 
 be acquired, I was ardently desirous of instruction. But 
 as soon as I had finished the entire course of study, at 
 the close of which it is customary to be admitted into 
 the order of the learned, I completely changed my opin- 
 ion. For I found myself involved in so many doubts and 
 errors, that I was convinced I had advanced no farther 
 in all my attempts at learning, than the discovery at 
 every turn of my own ignorance. And yet I was study- 
 ing in one of the most celebrated Schools in Europe, in 
 which I thought there must be learned men, if such were 
 anywhere to be found. I had been taught all that others 
 learned there; and not contented with the sciences actually 
 taught us, I had, in addition, read all the books that had 
 fallen into my hands, treating of such branches as are 
 esteemed the most curious and rare. I knew the judg- 
 ment which others had formed of me ; and I did not find 
 that I was considered inferior to my fellows, although 
 there were among them some who were already marked 
 out to fill the places of our instructors. And, in fine, our 
 age appeared to me as flourishing, and as fertile in pow- 
 erful minds as any preceding one. I was thus led to take 
 the liberty of judging of all other men by myself, and of 
 concluding that there was no science in existence that 
 was of such a nature as I had previously been given to 
 believe. 
 
 I still continued, however, to hold in esteem the studies 
 of the Schools. I was aware that the Languages taught 
 in them are necessary to the understanding of the writings 
 of the ancients; that the grace of Fable stirs the mind; 
 that the memorable deeds of History elevate it; and, if 
 read with discretion, aid in forming the judgment; that 
 the perusal of all excellent books is, as it were, to inter* 
 
DISCOURSE 
 
 152 
 
 view with the noblest men of past ages, who have written 
 them, and even a studied interview, in which are dis- 
 covered to us only their choicest thoughts ; that Eloquence 
 has incomparable force and beauty; that Poesy has its 
 ravishing graces and delights; that in the Mathematics 
 there are many refined discoveries eminently suited to 
 gratify the inquisitive, as well as further all the arts and 
 lessen the labor of man; that numerous highly useful 
 precepts and exhortations to virtue are contained in 
 treatises on Morals ; that Theology points out the path to 
 heaven ; that Philosophy affords the means of discoursing 
 with an appearance of truth on all matters, and com- 
 mands the admiration of the more simple; that Juris- 
 prudence, Medicine, and the other Sciences, secure for 
 their cultivators honors and riches; and, in fine, that it 
 is useful to bestow some attention upon all, even upon 
 those abounding the most in superstition and error, that 
 we may be in a position to determine their real value, 
 and guard against being deceived. 
 
 But I believed that I had already given sufficient time 
 to Languages, and likewise to the reading of the writ- 
 ings of the ancients, to their Histories and Fables. 
 For to hold converse with those of other ages and to 
 travel, are almost the same thing. It is useful to know 
 something of the manners of different nations, that 
 we may be enabled to form a more correct judgment 
 regarding our own, and be prevented from thinking that 
 everything contrary to our customs is ridiculous and 
 irrational, — a conclusion usually come to by those whose 
 experience has been limited to their own country. On 
 the other hand, when too much time is occupied in 
 traveling, we become strangers to our native country; 
 and the over-curious in the customs of the past are 
 generally ignorant of those of the present. Besides, 
 fictitious narratives lead us to imagine the possibility of 
 many events that are impossible ; and even the most 
 faithful histories, if they do not wholly misrepresent 
 matters, or exaggerate their importance to render the 
 account of them more worthy of perusal, omit, at least, 
 almost always the meanest and least striking of the 
 attendant circumstances; hence it happens that the re- 
 mainder does not represent the truth, and that such as 
 regulate their conduct by examples drawn from this source, 
 
ON METHOF 
 
 153 
 
 are apt to fall into the extravagances of the knight- 
 errants of Romance, and to entertain projects that exceed 
 their powers. 
 
 I esteemed Eloquence highly, and was in raptures with 
 Poesy, but I thought that both were gifts of nature 
 rather than fruits of study. Those in whom the faculty 
 of Reason is predominant and who most skillfully dispose 
 their thoughts with a view to render them clear and in- 
 telligible, are always the best able to persuade others of 
 the truth of what they lay down, though they should 
 speak only in the language of Lower Brittany, and be 
 wholly ignorant of the rules of Rhetoric; and those whose 
 minds are stored with the most agreeable fancies, and 
 who can give expression to them with the greatest em- 
 bellishment and harmony, are still the best poets, though 
 unacquainted with the Art of Poetry. 
 
 I was especially delighted with the Mathematics, on 
 account of the certitude and evidence of their reason- 
 ings : but I had not as yet a precise knowledge of 
 their true use; and thinking that they but contributed 
 to the advancement of the mechanical arts, I was as- 
 tonished that foundations, so strong and solid, should 
 have had no loftier superstructure reared on them. 
 On the other hand, I compared the disquisitions of the 
 ancient Moralists to very towering and magnificent 
 palaces with no better foundation than sand and mud: 
 they laud the virtues very highly, and exhibit them as 
 estimable far above anything on earth; but they give 
 us no adequate criterion of virtue, and frequently that 
 which they designate with so fine a name is but apathy, 
 or pride, or despair, or parricide. 
 
 I revered our Theology, and aspired as much as any 
 one to reach heaven: hut being given assuredly to 
 understand that the way is not less open to the most 
 ignorant than to the most learned, and that the re- 
 vealed truths which lead to heaven are above our 
 comprehension, I did not presume to subject them to 
 the impotency of my Reason; and I thought that in 
 order competently to undertake their examination, 
 there was need of some special help from heaven, and 
 of being more than man. 
 
 Of Philosophy I will say nothing, except that when 
 I saw that it had been cultivated for many ages by the 
 
‘54 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 most distinguished men, and that yet there is not a 
 single matter within its sphere which is not still in 
 dispute, and nothing, therefore, which is above doubt, 
 I did not presume to anticipate that my success would be 
 greater in it than that of others; and further, when 
 I considered the number of conflicting opinions touching 
 a single matter that may be upheld by learned men, 
 while there can be but one true, I reckoned as well-nigh 
 false all that was only probable. 
 
 As to the other Sciences, inasmuch as these borrow 
 their principles from Philosophy, I judged that no solid 
 superstructures could be reared on foundations so infirm; 
 and neither the honor nor the gain held out by them 
 was sufficient to determine me to their cultivation: for I 
 was not, thank Heaven, in a condition which compelled 
 me to make merchandise of Science for the bettering of 
 my fortune ; and though I might not profess to scorn glory 
 as a Cynic, I yet made very slight account of that honor 
 which I hoped to acquire only through fictitious titles. 
 And, in fine, of false Sciences I thought I knew the 
 worth sufficiently to escape being deceived by the pro- 
 fessions of an alchemist, the predictions of an astrologer, 
 the impostures of a magician, or by the artifices and 
 boasting of any of those who profess to know things of 
 which they are ignorant. 
 
 For these reasons, as soon as my age permitted me to 
 pass from under the control of my instructors, I entirely 
 abandoned the study of letters, and resolved no longer to 
 seek any other science than the knowledge of myself, or 
 of the great book of the world. I spent the remainder of 
 my youth in traveling, in visiting courts and armies, in 
 holding intercourse with men of different dispositions and 
 ranks, in collecting varied experience, in proving myself 
 in the different situations into which fortune threw me, 
 and, above all, in making such reflection on the matter of 
 my experience as to secure my improvement. _For it 
 occurred to me that I should find much more truth in 
 the reasonings of each individual with reference to the 
 affairs in which he is personally interested, and the issue 
 of which must presently punish him if he has judged 
 amiss, than in those conducted by a man of letters in his 
 Study, regarding speculative matters that are of no prac- 
 tical moment, and followed by no consequences to him- 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 *55 
 
 Sell, farther, perhaps, than that they foster his vanity the 
 better the more remote they are from common sense; 
 requiring, as they must in this case, the exercise of 
 greater ingenuity and art to render them probable. In 
 addition, I had always a most earnest desire to know 
 how to distinguish the true from the false, in order that 
 I might be able clearly to discriminate the right path in 
 life, and proceed in it with confidence. 
 
 It is true that, while busied only in considering the 
 manners of other men, I found here, too, scarce any 
 ground for settled conviction, and remarked hardly less 
 contradiction among them than in the opinions of the 
 philosophers. So that the greatest advantage I derived 
 from the study consisted in this, that, observing many 
 things which, however extravagant and ridiculous to our 
 apprehension, are yet by common consent received and 
 approved by other great nations, I learned to entertain 
 too decided a belief in regard to nothing of the truth oi 
 which I had been persuaded merely by example and cus- 
 tom; and thus I gradually extricated myself from many 
 errors powerful enough to darken our Natural Intelli- 
 gence, and incapacitate us in great measure from listen- 
 ing to Reason. But after I had been occupied several 
 years in thus studying the book of the world, and in 
 essaying to gather some experience, I at length re- 
 solved to make myself an object of study, and to employ 
 all the powers of my mind in choosing the paths I ought 
 to follow; an undertaking which was accompanied with 
 greater success than it would have been had I never 
 quitted my country or my books. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I was then in Germany, attracted thither by the wars 
 in that country, which have not yet been brought to a 
 termination; and as I was returning to the army from 
 the coronation of the Emperor, the setting in of winter 
 arrested me in a locality where, as I found no society to 
 interest me, and was besides fortunately undisturbed by 
 any cares or passions, I remained the whole day in secln 
 sion, with full opportunity to occupy my attention with 
 
156 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 my own thoughts. Of these one of the very first that 
 occurred to me was, that there is seldom so much per- 
 fection in works composed of many separate parts, upon 
 which different hands have been employed, as in those 
 completed by a single master. Thus it is observable that 
 the buildings which a single architect has planned and 
 executed, are generally more elegant and commodious 
 t han t hose which several have attempted to improve, by 
 making old walls serve for purposes for which they wer$ 
 not originally built. Thus also, those ancient cities which, 
 from being at first only villages, have become, in course 
 of time, large towns, are usually but ill laid out com- 
 pared with the regularly constructed towns which a pro- 
 fessional architect has freely planed on an open plain; 
 so that although the several buildings of the former may 
 often equal or surpass in beauty those of the latter, yet 
 when one observes their indiscriminate juxtaposition, 
 there a large one and here a small, and the consequent 
 crookedness and irregularity of the streets, one is dis- 
 posed to allege that chance rather than any human will guid- 
 ed by reason, must have led to such an arrangement. And 
 if we consider that nevertheless there have been at all 
 times certain officers whose duty it was to see that private 
 buildings contributed to public ornament, the difficulty 
 of reaching high perfection with but the materials of 
 others to operate on, will be readily acknowledged. In 
 the same way I fancied that those nations which, start- 
 ing from a semi-barbarous state and advancing to civi- 
 lization by slow degrees, have had their laws successively 
 determined, and, as it were, forced upon them simply 
 by experience of the hurtfulness of particular crimes and 
 disputes, would by this process come to be possessed of 
 less perfect institutions than those which, from the com- 
 mencement of their association as communities, have fol- 
 lowed the appointments of some wise legislator. It is 
 thus quite certain that the constitution of the true religion, 
 the ordinances of which are derived from God, must be 
 incomparably superior to that of every other. And, to 
 speak of human affairs, I believe that the past pre-emi- 
 nence of Sparta was due not to the goodness of each of 
 its laws in particular, for many of these were very strange, 
 and even opposed to good morals, but to the circum- 
 stance that, originated by a single individual, they all 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 1 57 
 
 tended to a single end. In the same way I thought that 
 the sciences contained in books (such of them at least 
 as are made up of probable reasonings, without demon- 
 strations), composed as they are of the opinions of many 
 different individuals massed together, are farther removed 
 from truth than the simple inferences which a man of 
 good sense using his natural and unprejudiced judgment 
 draws respecting the matters of his experience. And 
 because we have all to pass through a state of infancy 
 to manhood, and have been of necessity, for a length of 
 time, governed by our desires and preceptors (whose 
 dictates were frequently conflicting, while neither perhaps 
 always counseled us for the best), I farther concluded 
 that it is almost impossible that our judgments can be 
 so correct or solid as they would have been, had our 
 Reason been mature from the moment of our birth, and 
 had we alway gjb een guided by it alone. 
 
 It is true, however, that it is not customary to pull 
 down all the houses of a town with the single design of 
 rebuilding them differently, and thereby rendering the 
 streets more handsome ; but it often happens that a pri- 
 vate individual takes down his own with the view of 
 erecting it anew, and that people are even sometimes con- 
 strained to this when their houses are in danger of falling 
 from age, or when the foundations are insecure. With 
 this before me by way of example, I was persuaded that 
 it would indeed be preposterous for a private individual 
 to think of reforming a state by fundamentally changing 
 it throughout, and overturning it in order to set it up 
 amended; and the same I thought was true of any simi- 
 lar project for reforming the body of the Sciences, or 
 the order of teaching them established in the Schools: 
 but as for the opinions which up to that time I had em- 
 braced, I thought that I could not do better than re- 
 solve at once to sweep them wholly away, that I might 
 afterward be in a position to admit either others more 
 correct, or even perhaps the same when they had under- 
 gone the scrutiny of Reason. I firmly believed that in 
 this way I should much better succeed in the conduct of 
 my life, than if I built only upon old foundations, and 
 leaned upon principles which, in my youth, I had taken 
 upon trust. For although I recognized various difficulties 
 in this undertaking, these were not, however, without 
 
i S 8 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 remedy, nor once to be compared with such as attend 
 the slightest reformation in public affairs. Large bodies, 
 if once overthrown, are with great difficulty set up again, 
 or even kept erect when once seriously shaken, and the 
 fall of such is always disastrous. Then if there are any 
 imperfections in the constitutions of states (and that 
 many such exist the diversity of constitutions is alone 
 sufficient to assure us), custom has without doubt mate- 
 rially smoothed their inconveniences, and has even man- 
 aged to steer altogether clear of, or insensibly corrected, 
 a number which sagacity could not have provided against 
 with equal effect; and, in fine, the defects are almost 
 always more tolerable than the change necessary for their 
 removal; in the same manner that highways which wind 
 among mountains, by being’ much frequented, become 
 gradually so smooth and commodious, that it is much 
 better to fo llow th em than to seek a straighter path by 
 climbing over the tops of rocks and descending to the 
 bottoms of precipices. 
 
 Hence it is* that I cannot in any degree approve of 
 those restless and busy meddlers who, called neither by 
 birth nor fortune to take part in the management of 
 public affairs, are yet always projecting reforms; and if 
 I thought that this Tract contained aught which might 
 justify the suspicion that I was a victim of such folly, I 
 would by no means permit its publication. I have never 
 contemplated anything higher than the reformation of my 
 own opinions, and basing them on a foundation wholly 
 my own. And although my own satisfaction with my 
 work has led me to present here a draft of it, I do not 
 by any means therefore recommend to everyone else to 
 make a similar attempt. Those whom God has endowed 
 with a larger measure of genius will entertain, perhaps, 
 designs still more exalted; but for the many I am much 
 afraid lest even the present undertaking be more than 
 they can safely venture to imitate. The single design to 
 strip oneself of all past beliefs is one that ought not 
 to be taken by everyone. The majority of men is com- 
 posed of two classes, for neither of which would this be 
 at all a befitting resolution: in the first place, of those 
 who with more than a due confidence in their own 
 powers, are precipitate in their judgments and want the 
 patience requisite for orderly and circumspect thinking; 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 159 
 
 whence it happens, that if men of this class once take 
 the liberty to doubt of their accustomed opinions, and 
 quit the beaten highway, they will never be able to 
 thread the byway that would lead them by a shorter 
 course, and will lose themselves and continue to wander 
 for life; in the second place, of those who, possessed of 
 sufficient sense of modesty to determine that there are 
 others who excel them in the power of discriminating 
 between truth and error, and by whom they may be 
 instructed, ought rather to content themselves with the 
 opinions of such than trust for more correct to their own 
 Reason. 
 
 For my own part, I should doubtless have belonged to 
 the latter class, had I received instruction from but one 
 master, or had I never known the diversities of opinion 
 that from time immemorial have prevailed among men 
 of the greatest learning. But I had become aware, even 
 so early as during my college life, that no opinion, how- 
 ever absurd and incredible, can be imagined, which has 
 not been maintained by some one of the philosophers; 
 and afterward in the course of my travels I remarked 
 that all those whose opinions are decidedly repugnant to 
 ours are not on that account barbarians and savages, but 
 on the contrary that many of these nations make an 
 equally good, if not a better, use of their Reason than 
 we do. I took into account also the very different char- 
 acter which a person brought up from infancy in France 
 or Germany exhibits, from that which, with the same 
 mind originally, this individual would have possessed had 
 he lived always among the Chinese or with savages, and 
 the circumstance that in dress itself the fashion which 
 pleased us ten years ago, and which may again, perhaps, 
 be received into favor before ten years have gone, ap- 
 pears to us at this moment extravagant and ridiculous. 
 I was thus led to infer that the ground of our opinions 
 is far more custom and example than any certain knowl- 
 edge. And, finally, although such be the ground of our 
 opinions, I remarked that a plurality of suffrages is no 
 guarantee of truth where it is at all of difficult discov- 
 ery, as in such cases it is much more likely that it will 
 be found by one than by many. I could, however, select 
 from the crowd no one whose opinions seemed worthy of 
 preference, and thus I found myself constrained, as it 
 
i6o 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 were, to use my own Reason in the conduct of my 
 
 life. 
 
 But like one walking alone and in the dark, I resolved 
 to proceed so slowly and with such circumspection, that 
 if I did not advance far, I would at least guard against 
 falling. I did not even choose to dismiss summarily any 
 of the opinions that had crept into my belief without 
 having been introduced by Reason, but first of all took 
 sufficient time carefully to satisfy myself of the general 
 nature of the task I was setting myself, and ascertain 
 the true Method by which to arrive at the knowledge of 
 whatever lay within the compass of my powers. 
 
 Among the branches of Philosophy, I had, at an ear- 
 lier period, given some attention to Logic, and among 
 those of the Mathematics to Geometrical Analysis and 
 Algebra, — three Arts or Sciences which ought, as I con- 
 ceived, to contribute something to my design. But, on 
 examination, I found that, as for Logic, its syllogisms 
 and the majority of its other precepts are of avail rather 
 in the communication of what we already know, or even 
 as the Art of Lully, in speaking without judgment of 
 things of which we are ignorant, than in the investiga- 
 tion of the unknown; and although this Science contains 
 indeed a number of correct and very excellent precepts, 
 there are, nevertheless, so many others, and these either 
 injurious or superfluous, mingled with the former, that 
 it is almost quite as difficult to effect a severance of the 
 true from the false as it is to extract a Diana or a 
 Minerva from a rough block of marble. Then as to the 
 Analysis of the ancients and the Algebra of the mod- 
 ems, besides that they embrace only matters highly 
 abstract, and, to appearance, of no use, the former is so 
 exclusively restricted to the consideration of figures, that 
 it can exercise the Understanding only on condition of 
 greatly fatiguing the Imagination;* and, in the latter, 
 there is so complete a subjection to certain rules and 
 formulas, that there results an art full of confusion and 
 obscurity calculated to embarrass, instead of a science 
 fitted to cultivate the mind. By these considerations I 
 was induced to seek some other Method which would 
 comprise the advantages of the three and be exempt 
 
 * The Imagination must here be taken as equivalent simply to the 
 Representative Faculty. — Tr. 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 i6i 
 
 from their defects. And as a multitude of laws often 
 only hampers justice, so that a state is best governed 
 when, with few laws, these are rigidly administered; in 
 like manner, instead of the great number of precepts of 
 which Logic is composed, I believed that the four fol- 
 lowing would prove perfectly sufficient for me, provided 
 I took the firm and unwavering resolution never in a 
 single instance to fail in observing them. 
 
 The first was neve r to . accept anything for true. which 
 I did not clearly know to be such; that is to say, care- 
 fully to avoid precipitancy and prejudice, and to comprise 
 nothing more in my judgment than what was presented 
 to my mind so clearly and distinctly as to exclude all 
 ground of doubt. 
 
 The second, to divide each of the difficulties under ex- 
 amination into as many ''parts'" as" possible, and as might 
 be necessary for its adequate solution. 
 
 The third, to conduct my thoughts in such order that, 
 by commencing with objects the simplest and easiest to 
 kno w, I might ascend by little and little, and, as it were, 
 step by step, to the knowledge of the more complex; 
 assigning in thought a certain order even to those objects 
 which in their own nature do not stand in a relation of 
 antecedence and sequence. 
 
 At the last, in every case to make enumerations so 
 complete, and reviews so general, that I might be as- 
 sured that nothing was omitted. 
 
 The long chains of simple and easy reasonings by means 
 of which geometers are accustomed to reach the conclu- 
 sions of their most difficult demonstrations, had led me 
 to imagine that all things, to the knowledge of which 
 man is competent, are mutually connected in the same 
 way, and that there is nothing so far removed from us 
 as to be beyond our reach, or so hidden that we cannot 
 discover it, provided only we abstain from accepting the 
 false for the true, and always preserve in our thoughts 
 the order necessary for the deduction of one truth from 
 another. And I had little difficulty in determining the 
 objects with which it was necessary to commence, for I 
 was already persuaded that it must be with the simplest 
 and easiest to know, and considering that of all those 
 who have hitherto sought truth in the Sciences, the 
 mathematicians alone have been able to find any demon- 
 
DISCOURSE 
 
 162 
 
 strations, that is, any certain and evident reasons, I did 
 not doubt but that such must have been the rule of their 
 investigations. I resolved to commence, therefore, with 
 the examination of the simplest objects, not anticipating, 
 however, from this any other advantage than that to be 
 found in accustoming my mind to the love and nourish- 
 ment of truth, and to a distaste for all such reasonings 
 as were unsound. But I had no intention on that account 
 of attempting to master all the particular Sciences com- 
 monly denominated Mathematics: but observing that, 
 however different their objects, they all agree in consid- 
 ering only the various relations or proportions subsisting 
 among those objects, I thought it best for my purpose to 
 consider these proportions in the most general form pos- 
 sible, without referring them to any objects in particular, 
 except such as would most facilitate the knowledge of 
 them, and without by any means restricting them to 
 these, that afterward I might thus be the better able to 
 apply them to every other class of objects to which they 
 are legitimately applicable. Perceiving further, that in 
 order to understand these relations I should sometimes 
 have to consider them one by one, and sometimes only 
 to bear them in mind, or embrace them in the aggregate, 
 1 thought that, in order the better to consider them indi- 
 vidually, I should view them as subsisting between 
 straight lines, than which I could find no objects more 
 simple, or capable of being more distinctly represented 
 to my imagination and senses; and on the other hand, 
 that in order to retain them in the memory, or embrace 
 an aggregate of many, I should express them by certain 
 characters the briefest possible. In this way I believed 
 that I could borrow all that was best both in Geometrical 
 Analysis and in Algebra, and correct all the defects of 
 the one by help of the other. 
 
 And, in point of fact, the accurate observance of these 
 few precepts gave me, I take the liberty of saying, such 
 ease in unraveling all the questions embraced in these 
 two sciences, that in the two or three months I devoted 
 to their examination, not only did I reach solutions of 
 questions I had formerly deemed exceedingly difficult, 
 but even as regards questions of the solution of which I 
 continued ignorant, I was enabled, as it appeared to me, 
 to determine the means whereby, and the extent to 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 163 
 
 which, a solution was possible ; results attributable to 
 the circumstance that I commenced with the simplest 
 and most general truths, and that thus each truth dis- 
 covered was a rule available in the discovery of subse- 
 quent ones. Nor in this perhaps shall I appear too vain, 
 if it be considered that, as the truth on any particular -j 
 point is one, whoever apprehends the truth, knows all 
 that on that point can be known. The child, for exam- 
 ple, who has been instructed in the elements of Arith- 
 metic, and has made a particular addition, according to 
 rule, may be assured that he has found, with respect 
 to the sum of the numbers before him, all that in this 
 instance is within the reach of human genius. Now, in 
 conclusion, the Method which teaches adherence to the 
 true order, and an exact enumeration of all the condi- 
 tions of the thing sought includes all that gives certitude 
 to the rules of Arithmetic. 
 
 But the chief ground of my satisfaction with this 
 Method was the ass urance I had of thereby exercising 
 my r eason in all m atters, if not with absolute perfec- 
 tion, at least with the greatest attainable by me : besides, 
 
 I was conscious that by its use my mind was becoming 
 gradually habituated to clearer and more distinct concep- 
 tions of its objects; and I hoped also, from not having 
 restricted this Method to any particular matter, to apply 
 it to the difficulties of the other Sciences, with not less 
 success than to those of Algebra. I should not, however, 
 on this account have ventured at once on the examina- 
 tion of all the difficulties of the Sciences which presented 
 themselves to me, for this would have been contrary to 
 the order prescribed in the Method, but observing that 
 the knowledge of such is dependent on principles bor- 
 rowed from Philosophy, in which I found nothing cer- 
 tain, I thought it necessary, first of all to endeavor to 
 establish its principles. And because I observed, besides, 
 that an inquiry of this kind was of all others of the 
 greatest moment, and one in which precipitancy and 
 anticipation in judgment were most to be dreaded, I 
 thought that I ought not to approach it till I had 
 reached a more mature age ( being at that time but 
 twenty-three), and had first of all employed much of 
 my time in preparation for the work, as well by eradi- 
 cating from my mind all the erroneous opinions I had 
 
164 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 up to that moment accepted, as by amassing variety of 
 experience to afford materials for my reasonings, and by 
 continually exercising myself in my chosen Method with 
 a view to increased skill in its application. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 > 
 
 And, finally, as it is not enough, before commencing 
 to rebuild the house in which we live, that it be pulled 
 down, and materials and builders provided, or that we 
 engage in the work ourselves, according to a plan which 
 we have beforehand carefully drawn out, but as it is 
 likewise necessary that we be furnished with some other 
 house in which we may live commodiously during the 
 operations, so that I might not remain irresolute in my 
 actions, while my Reason compelled me to suspend my 
 judgment, and that I might not be prevented from liv- 
 ing thenceforward in the greatest possible felicity, I 
 formed a provisory code of Morals, composed of three or 
 four maxims, with which I am desirous to make you 
 acquainted. 
 
 The first was to obey the laws and customs of my 
 country, adhering firmly to the Faith in which, by the 
 grace of God, I had been educated from my childhood, 
 and regulating my conduct in every other matter accord- 
 ing to the most moderate opinions, and the farthest re- 
 moved from extremes, which should happen to be 
 adopted in practice with general consent of the most 
 judicious of those among whom I might be living. For, 
 as I had from that time begun to hold my own opinions 
 for nought because I wished to subject them all to ex- 
 amination, I was convinced that I could not do better 
 than follow in the meantime the opinions of the most 
 judicious; and although there are some perhaps among 
 the Persians and Chinese as judicious as among ourselves, 
 expediency seemed to dictate that I should regulate my 
 practice conformably to the opinions of those with whom 
 I should have to live; and it appeared to me that, in 
 order to ascertain the real opinions of such, I ought 
 rather to take cognizance of what they practiced than of 
 what they said, not only because, in the corruption of 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 165 
 
 our manners, there are few disposed to speak exactly as 
 they believe, but also because very many are not aware 
 of what it is that they really believe; for, as the act of 
 mind by which a thing is believed is different from that 
 by which we know that we believe it, the one act is 
 often found without the other. Also, amid many opinions 
 held in equal repute, I choose always the most moderate, 
 as much for the reason that these are always the most 
 convenient for practice, and probably the best (for all 
 excess is generally vicious), as that, in the event of my 
 falling into error, I might be at less distance from the 
 truth than if, having chosen one of the extremes, it 
 should turn out to be the other which I ought to have 
 adopted. And I placed in the class of extremes espe- 
 cially all promises by which somewhat of our freedom is 
 abridged; not that I disapproved of the laws which, to 
 provide against the instability of men of feeble resolu- 
 tion, when what is sought to be accomplished is some 
 good, permit engagements by vows and contracts bind- 
 ing the parties to persevere in it, or even, for the security 
 of commerce, sanction similar engagements where the 
 purpose sought to be realized is indifferent : but because I 
 did not find anything on earth which was wholly superior 
 to change, and because, for myself in particular, I hoped 
 gradually to perfect my judgments, and not to suffer 
 them to deteriorate, I would have deemed it a grave sin 
 against good sense, if, for the reason that I approved of 
 something at a particular time, I therefore bound myself 
 to hold it for good at a subsequent time, when perhaps 
 it had ceased to be so, or I had ceased to esteem it 
 such. 
 
 My second maxim was to be as firm and resolute in 
 my actions as I was able, and not to adhere less stead- 
 fastly to the most doubtful opinions, when once adopted, 
 than if they had been highly certain ; imitating in this the 
 example of travelers who, when they have lost their way 
 in a forest, ought not to wander from side to side, far 
 less remain in one place, but proceed constantly toward 
 the same side in as straight a line as possible, without 
 changing their direction for slight reasons, although per- 
 haps it might be chance alone which at first determined 
 the selection; for in this way, if they do not exactly 
 reach the point they desire, they will come at least in the 
 
166 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 end to some place that will probably be preferable to the 
 middle of a forest. In the same way, since in action it 
 frequently happens that no delay is permissible, it is very 
 certain that, when it is not in our power to determine 
 what is true, we ought to act according to what is most 
 probable; and even although we should not remark a 
 greater probability in one opinion than in another, we 
 ought notwithstanding to choose one or the other, and 
 afterward consider it, in so far as it relates to practice, 
 as no longer dubious, but manifestly true and certain, 
 since the reason by which our choice has been deter- 
 mined is itself possessed of these qualities. This prin- 
 ciple was sufficient thenceforward to rid me of all those 
 repentings and pangs of remorse that usually disturb the 
 consciences of such feeble and uncertain minds as, desti- 
 tute of any clear and determinate principle of choice, 
 allow themselves one day to adopt a course of action as 
 the best, which they abandon the next, as the opposite. 
 
 My third maxim was to endeavor always to conquer 
 myself rather than fortune, and change my desires rather 
 than the order of the world, and in general, accustom 
 myself to the persuasion that, except our own thoughts, 
 there is nothing absolutely in our power; so that when 
 we have done our best in respect of things external to 
 us, all wherein we fail of success is to be held, as re- 
 gards us, absolutely impossible: and this single principle 
 seemed to me sufficient to prevent me from desiring for 
 the future anything which I could not obtain, and thus 
 render me contented; for since our will naturally seeks 
 those objects alone which the understanding represents 
 as in some way possible of attainment, it is plain, that 
 if we consider all external goods as equally beyond our 
 power, we shall no more regret the absence of such 
 goods as seem due to our birth, when deprived of them 
 without any fault of ours, than our not possessing the 
 kingdoms of China or Mexico; and thus making, so to 
 > speak, a virtue of necessity, we shall no more desire 
 health in disease, or freedom in imprisonment, than we 
 now do bodies incorruptible as diamonds, or the wings 
 of birds to fly with. But I confess there is need of pro- 
 longed discipline and frequently repeated meditation to 
 accustom the mind to view all objects in this light; and 
 I believe that in this chiefly consisted the secret of the 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 167 
 
 power of such philosophers as in former times were en- 
 abled to rise superior to the influence of fortune, and, amid 
 suffering and poverty, enjoy a happiness which their gods 
 might have envied. For, occupied incessantly with the 
 consideration of the limits prescribed to their power by 
 nature, they became so entirely convinced that nothing 
 was at their disposal except their own thoughts, that this 
 conviction was of itself sufficient to prevent their enter- 
 taining any desire of other objects; and over their 
 thoughts they acquired a sway so absolute, that they had 
 some ground on this account for esteeming themselves 
 more rich and more powerful, more free and more happy, 
 than other men who, whatever be the favors heaped on 
 them by nature and fortune, if destitute of this philoso- 
 phy, can never command the realization of all their 
 desires. 
 
 In fine, to conclude this code of Morals, I thought of 
 reviewing the different occupations of men in this life, 
 with the view of making choice of the best. And, with- 
 out wishing to offer any remarks on the employments of 
 others, I may state that it was my conviction that I could 
 not do better than continue in that in which I was en- 
 gaged, viz, in devoting my whole life to the culture of 
 my Reason, and in making the greatest progress I was 
 able in the knowledge of truth, on the principl es of the 
 Method which I had prescribed to myself. This Method, 
 'from* the time I had begun to apply it, had been to me 
 the source of satisfaction so intense as to lead me to be- 
 lieve that more perfect or more innocent could not be 
 enjoyed in this life; and as by its means I daily dis- 
 covered truths that appeared to me of some importance, 
 and of which other men were generally ignorant, the 
 gratification thence arising so occupied my mind that I 
 was wholly indifferent to every other object. Besides, 
 the three preceding maxims were founded singly on the 
 design of continuing the work of self-instruction. For 
 since God_ has endowed each of us with some Light of 
 Reaso n by which to distinguish truth from error, I could 
 not have believed that I ought for a single moment to 
 rest satisfied with the opinions of another, unless I had 
 resolved to exercise my own judgment in examining 
 these whenever I should be duly qualified for the task. 
 Nor could I have proceeded on such opinions without 
 
t68 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 scruple, had I supposed that I should thereby forfeit any 
 advantage for attaining still more accurate, should such 
 exist. And, in fine, I could not have restrained my de- 
 sires, nor remained satisfied, had I not followed a path 
 in which I thought myself certain of attaining all the 
 knowledge to the acquisition of which I was competent, 
 as well as the largest amount of what is truly good which 
 I could ever hope to secure. Inasmuch as we neither 
 seek nor shun any object except in so far as our under- 
 standing represents it as good or bad, all that is neces- 
 sary to right action is right judgment, and to the best 
 action the most correct judgment, that is, to the acqui- 
 sition of all the virtues with all else that is truly valua- 
 ble and within our reach; and the assurance of such an 
 acquisition cannot fail to render us contented. 
 
 Having thus provided myself with these maxims, and 
 having placed them in reserve along with the truths of 
 Faith, which have ever occupied the first place in my 
 belief, I came to the conclusion that I might with free- 
 dom set about ridding myself of what remained of my 
 opinions. And, inasmuch as I hoped to be better able 
 successfully to accomplish this work by holding intercourse 
 with mankind, than by remaining longer shut up in the 
 retirement where these thoughts had occurred to me, I 
 betook me again to traveling before the winter was well 
 ended. And, during the nine subsequent years, I did 
 nothing but roam from one place to another, desirous of 
 being a spectator rather than an actor in the plays ex- 
 hibited on the theater of the world; and, as I made it 
 my business in each matter to reflect particularly upon 
 what might fairly be doubted and prove a source of 
 error, I gradually rooted out from my mind all the errors 
 which had hitherto crept into it. Not that in this I im- 
 itated the Sceptics who doubt only that they may doubt, 
 and seek nothing beyond uncertainty itself; for, on the 
 contrary, my design was singly to find ground of assur- 
 ance, and cast aside the loose earth and sand, that I 
 might reach the rock or the clay. In this, as appears to 
 me, I was successful enough; for, since I endeavored to 
 discover the falsehood or incertitude of the proposi- 
 tions I examined, not by feeble conjectures, but by clear 
 and certain reasonings, I met with nothing so doubtful 
 as not to yield some conclusion of adequate certainty, 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 169 
 
 although this were merely the inference, that the matter 
 in question contained nothing certain. And, just as in 
 pulling down an old house, we usually reserve the ruins 
 to contribute toward the erection, so, in destroying such 
 of my opinions as I judged to be ill-founded, I made a 
 variety of observations and acquired an amount of ex- 
 perience of which I availed myself in the establishment 
 of more certain. And further, I continued to exercise 
 myself in the Method I had prescribed; for, besides tak- 
 ing care in general to conduct all my thoughts accord- 
 ing to its rules, I reserved some hours from time to time 
 which I expressly devoted to the employment of the 
 Method in the solution of Mathematical difficulties, or even 
 in the solution likewise of some questions belonging to 
 other Sciences, but which, by my having detached them 
 from such principles of these Sciences as were of inade- 
 quate certainty, were rendered almost Mathematical: the 
 truth of this will be manifest from the numerous exam- 
 ples contained in this volume. * And thus, without in 
 appearance living otherwise than those who, with no other 
 occupation than that of spending their lives agreeably 
 and innocently, study to sever pleasure from vice, and 
 who, that they may enjoy their leisure without ennui, 
 have recourse to such pursuits as are honorable, I was 
 nevertheless prosecuting my design, and making greater 
 progress in the knowledge of truth, than I might, 
 perhaps, have made had I been engaged in the perusal 
 of books merely, or in holding converse with men of 
 letters. 
 
 These nine years passed away, however, before I had 
 come to any determinate judgment respecting the diffi- 
 culties which form matter of dispute among the learned, 
 or had commenced to seek the principles of any Philoso- 
 phy more certain than the vulgar. And the examples 
 of many men of the highest genius, who had, in former 
 times, engaged in this inquiry, but, as appeared to me, 
 without success, led me to imagine it to be a work of 
 so much difficulty, that I would not perhaps have ven- 
 tured on it so soon had I not heard it currently rumored 
 that I had already completed the inquiry. I know not 
 
 * The Discourse on Method was originally published along with the 
 (< Dioptrics, » the (< Meteorics,® and the « Geometry. » See the <( Intro- 
 duction.® 
 
170 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 what were the grounds of this opinion; and, if my con- 
 versation contributed in any measure to its rise, this 
 must have happened rather from my having confessed 
 my ignorance with greater freedom than those are ac- 
 customed to do who have studied a little, and expounded, 
 perhaps, the reasons that led me to doubt of many of 
 those things that by others are esteemed certain, than 
 from my having boasted of any system of Philosophy. 
 But, as I am of a disposition that makes me unwilling 
 to be esteemed different from what I really am, I thought 
 it necessary to endeavor by all means to render myself 
 worthy of the reputation accorded to me; and it is now 
 exactly eight years since this desire constrained me to 
 remove from all those places where interruption from 
 any of my acquaintances was possible, and betake my- 
 self to this country,* in which the long duration of the 
 war has led to the establishment of such discipline, that 
 the armies maintained seem to be of use only in en- 
 abling the inhabitants to enjoy more securely the bless- 
 ings of peace; and where in the midst of a great crowd 
 actively engaged in business, and more careful of their 
 own affairs than curious about those of others, I have 
 been enabled to live without being deprived of any of 
 the conveniences to be had in the most populous cities, 
 and yet as solitary and as retired as in the midst of the 
 most remote deserts. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 I am in doubt as to the propriety of making my first 
 meditations, in the place above mentioned, matter of dis- 
 course; for chese are so metaphysical, and so uncom- 
 mon, as not, perhaps, to be acceptable to everyone. 
 And yet, that it may be determined whether the foun- 
 dations that I have laid are sufficiently secure, I find 
 myself in a measure constrained to advert to them. I 
 had long before remarked that, in relation to practice, 
 it is sometimes necessary to adopt, as if above doubt, 
 opinions which we discern to be highly uncertain, as 
 has been already said; but as I then desired to give my 
 attention solely to the search after truth, I thought that 
 * Holland; to which country he withdrew in 1629. — Tr. 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 171 
 
 a procedure exactly the opposite was called for, and 
 that I ought to reject as absolutely false all opinions in 
 regard to which I could suppose the least ground for 
 doubt, in order to ascertain whether after that there re- 
 mained aught in my belief that was wholly indubitable. 
 Accordingly, seeing that our senses sometimes deceive 
 us, I was willing to suppose that there existed nothing 
 really such as they presented to us; and because some 
 men err in reasoning, and fall into paralogisms, even on 
 the simplest matters of Geometry, I, convinced that I 
 was as open to error as any other, rejected as false all 
 the reasonings I had hitherto taken for demonstrations; 
 and finally, when I considered that the very same 
 thoughts (presentations) which we experience when awake 
 may also be experienced when we are asleep, while there 
 is at that time not one of them true, I supnose.d_that._all 
 the objects (presentations) that had ever entered into 
 my mind when awake^ had in them no more truth than 
 the illusions of my dreams. But immediately upon this 
 I observed that, whilst I thus wished to think that all 
 was false, it was absolutely necessary that I, who thus 
 thought, should be somewhat; and as I observed that 
 this truth, I tuixk. hence I am, was so certain and of 
 such evidence, that_no aground of doubt, however ex- 
 travagant, could be alleged by the Sceptics capable of 
 shaking At, i concluded that I might, without scruple, 
 accept it as the first principle of the Philosophy of which 
 I was in search. 
 
 In the next place, I attentively examined what I was, 
 
 and as I observed that I could suppose that I had no 
 
 body, and that there was no world nor any place in 
 
 which I might be; but that I could not therefore suppose 
 
 that I was not; and that, on the contrary, from the very 
 
 circumstance that I thought to doubt of the truth of 
 
 all things, it most clearly and certainly followed that 
 
 I was ; ’while, on . the other hand, if I had only ceased to 
 
 think, although all the other objects which I had ever 
 
 imagined had been in reality existent, I would have had 
 
 no reason to believe that I existed; I thence concluded 
 
 that I was a substance whose whole essence or nature 
 
 ^ - , 
 
 g consists only in thinking, and which, that it may ex- 
 
 • ist, has need of no place, nor is dependent on any mate- 
 rial thing; s. that <( I, * that is to say, the mind by 
 
 U' 
 
 ss _> 
 
 v» 
 
 s5 > 
 
 cv v3 
 
 7 
 
 V 
 
 VJ 
 
 > 
 
172 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 fcisd 
 
 which I am what I am, is wholly distinct from the body, 
 and is even more , easily known than the latter, and is 
 such, that although the latter were not, it would still 
 continue to be all that it is. 
 
 After this I inquired in general into what is essential 
 to the truth and certainty of a proposition; for since I 
 had discovered one which I knew to be true, I thought 
 that I must likewise be able to discover the ground of this 
 certitude. And as I observed that in the words I think, 
 hence I am, th ere is not hin^ at all which gives me assur- 
 ance of their truth beyond this, that I see very clearly 
 that in order to think it is necessary to exist, I con- 
 cluded that I might take, as *a general rule, the principle, 
 that all the. things which we very ..clearly and distinctly 
 conceive are true, only observing, however, that there is 
 some difficulty in rightly determining the objects which 
 we distinctly conceive. 
 
 In the next place, from reflecting on the circumstance 
 that I doubted, and that consequently my being was not 
 wholly perfect (for I clearly saw that it was a greater 
 perfection to know than to doubt), I was led to inquire 
 whence I had learned to think of something more per- 
 fect than myself; and I clearly recognized that I must 
 hold this notion from some Nature which in reality was 
 more perfect. As for the thoughts of many other objects 
 external to me, as of the sky, the earth, light, heat, and a 
 thousand more, I was less at a loss to know whence 
 these came ; for since I remarked in them nothing which 
 seemed to render them superior to myself, I could 
 believe that, if these were true, they were dependen- 
 cies on my own nature, in so far as it possessed a certain 
 perfection, and, if they were false, that I held them from 
 nothing, that is to say, that they were in me because of a 
 certain imperfection of my nature. But this could not be 
 the case with the idea of a Nature more perfect than my- 
 self ; for to receive it from nothing was a thing manifestly 
 impossible; and, because it is not less repugnant that 
 the more perfect should be an effect of, and dependence 
 on the less perfect, than that something should proceed 
 from nothing, it was equally impossible that I could hold 
 it from myself: accordingly, it but remained that it had 
 been placed in me by a Nature whicl. was in reality 
 more perfect than mine, and which even possessed within 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 173 
 
 itself all the perfections of which I could form any idea: 
 that is to say, in a single word, which was God. And 
 to this I added that, since I knew some perfections which 
 I did not possess, I was not the only being in existence, 
 (I will here, with your permission, freely use the terms 
 of the Schools) ; but on the contrary, that there was of 
 necessity^ some other more perfect Being upon whom I 
 was dependent, and from whom I had received all that 
 I possessed ; ^or if I had existed alone, and independ- 
 ently of evdry other being, so as to have had from myself 
 all the perfection, however little, which I actually pos- 
 sessed, I should have been able, for the same reason, to 
 have had from myself the whole remainder of perfection, 
 of the want of which I was conscious, and thus could of 
 myself have become infinite, eternal, immutable, omni- 
 scient, all-powerful, and, in fine, have possessed all the 
 perfections which I could recognize in God. For in order 
 to know the nature of God (whose existence has been 
 established by the preceding reasonings), as far as my 
 own nature permitted, I had only to consider in refer- 
 ence to all the properties of which I found in my mind 
 some idea, whether their possession was a mark of per- 
 fection; and I was assured that no one which indicated 
 any imperfection was in him, and that none of the rest 
 was awanting. Thus I perceived that doubt, inconstancy, 
 sadness, and such like, could not be found in God, since 
 I myself would have been happy to be free from them. 
 Besides, I had ideas of many sensible and corporeal 
 things; for although I might suppose that I was dream- 
 ing, and that a ll which I saw or imagined was false, I could 
 not, nevertheless, ^Teny that the ideas were in reality in 
 my thoughts. But because I had already very clearly 
 recognized in myself that the intelligent nature is dis- 
 tinct from the corporeal, and as I observed that all com- 
 position is an evidence of dependency, and that a state 
 of dependency is manifestly a state of imperfection, I 
 therefore determined that it could not be a perfection in 
 God to be compounded of these two natures, and that 
 consequently he was not so compounded; but that if 
 there were any bodies in the world, or even any intelli- 
 gences, or other natures that were not wholly perfect, 
 their existence depended on his power in such a way that 
 they could not subsist without him for a single moment. 
 
174 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 I was disposed straightway to search for other truths; 
 and when I had represented to myself the object of the 
 geometers, which I conceived to be a continuous body, 
 or a space indefinitely extended in length, breadth, and 
 height or depth, divisible into divers parts which admit 
 of different figures and sizes, and of being moved or 
 transposed in all manner of ways ( for all this the geom- 
 eters suppose to be in the object they contemplate), I went 
 over some of their simplest demonstrations. And, in the 
 first place, I observed, that the great certitude which by 
 common consent is accorded to these demonstrations, is 
 founded solely upon this, that they are clearly conceived 
 in accordance with the rules I have already laid down. 
 In the next place, I perceived that there was nothing at 
 all in these demonstrations which could assure me of the 
 existence of their object; thus, for example, supposing a 
 triangle to be given, I distinctly perceived that its three 
 angles were necessarily equal to two right angles, but I 
 did not on that account perceive anything which could 
 assure me that any triangle existed; while, on the con- 
 trary, recurring to the examination of the idea of a Per- 
 fect Being, I found that the existence of the Being was 
 comprised in the idea in the same way that the equality 
 of its three angles to two right angles is comprised in 
 the idea of a triangle, or as in the idea of a sphere, the 
 equidistance of all points on its surface from the center, 
 or even still more clearly; and that consequently it is at 
 least as certain that God, who is this Perfect Being, is, 
 or exists, as any demonstration of Geometry can be. 
 
 But the reason which leads many to persuade them- 
 selves that there is a difficulty in knowing this truth, 
 and even also in knowing what their mind really is, is 
 that they never raise their thoughts above sensible objects, 
 and are so accustomed to consider nothing except by way 
 of imagination, which is a mode of thinking limited to 
 material objects, that all that is not imaginable seems to 
 them not intelligible. The truth of this is suffic. yntly 
 manifest from the single circumstance, that the philoso- 
 phers of the Schools accept as a maxim that there is 
 nothing in the Understanding which was not previously 
 in the Senses, in which however it is certain that the 
 ideas of God and of the soul have never been; and it 
 appears to me that they who make use of their imagina- 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 175 
 
 tion to comprehend these ideas do exactly the same thing 
 as if, in order to hear sounds or smell odors, they strove 
 to avail themselves of their eyes ; unless indeed that there 
 is this difference, that the sense of sight does not afford 
 us an inferior assurance to those of smell or hearing; in 
 place of which, neither our imagination nor our senses 
 can give us assurance of anything unless our Understand- 
 ing intervene. 
 
 Finally, if there be still persons who are not suffi- 
 ciently persuaded of the existence of God and of the soul, 
 by the reasons I have adduced, I am desirous that they 
 should know that all the other propositions, of the truth 
 of which they deem themselves perhaps more assured, as 
 that we have a body, and that there exist stars and an 
 earth, and such like, are less certain; for, although we 
 have a moral assurance of these thing, which is so strong 
 that there is an appearance of extravagance in doubting 
 of their existence, yet at the same time no one, unless 
 his intellect is impaired, can deny, when the question 
 relates to a metaphysical certitude, that there is sufficient 
 reason to exclude entire assurance, in the observation 
 
 that when asleep we can in the same way imagine our- 
 selves possessed of another body and that we see other 
 stars and another earth, when there is nothing of the kind. 
 For how do we know that the thoughts which occur ..in 
 dreaming are false rather than those other which we ex- 
 perience when awake, since the former are often not less 
 vivid and distinct than the latter ? And though men of 
 the highest genius study this question as long as they 
 please, I do not believe that they will be able to give any 
 reason which can be sufficient to remove this doubt, un- 
 less they presuppose the existence of God. For, in the 
 first place, even the principle which I have already taken 
 as a rule, viz., that all the things which we clearly and 
 distinctly conceive are true, is certain only because God 
 is or exists, and because he is a Perfect Being, and be- 
 cause all that we possess is derived from him : whence it 
 follows that' our ideas or notions, which to the extent of 
 their clearness and distinctn ess a re real, and proceed from 
 God, must to that extent ke true. Accordingly, whereas 
 we not unfrequently have id eas or notions in which some 
 falsity is contained, this can only be the case with such 
 as are to some extent confused and obscure, and in this 
 
176 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 proceed from nothing, (participate of negation), that is, 
 exist in us thus confused because we are not wholly per- 
 fect. And it is evident that it is not less repugnant that 
 falsity or imperfection, in so far as it is imperfection, 
 should proceed from God, than that truth or perfection 
 should proceed from nothing. But if we did not know 
 that all which we possess of real and true proceeds from 
 a Perfect and Infinite Being, however clear and distinct 
 our ideas might be, we should have no ground on that 
 account for the assurance that they possessed the perfec- 
 tion of being true. 
 
 But after the knowledge of God and of the soul has 
 rendered us certain of this rule, we can easily under- 
 stand that the truth of the thoughts we experience when 
 awake, ought not in the slightest degree to be called in 
 question on account of the illusions of our dreams. For 
 if it happened that an individual, even when asleep, had 
 s ome very d isti nct idea, as, for example^ if a. geometer 
 should discover some new demonstration, the circumstance 
 of his being asleep would not militate against its truth; 
 and as for the most ordinary error of our dreams, which 
 consists in their representing to us various objects in the 
 same way as our external senses, this is not prejudicial, 
 since it leads us very properly to suspect the truth of 
 the ideas of sense ; for we are not unfrequently deceived 
 in the same manner when awake ; as when persons in the 
 jaundice see all objects yellow, or when the stars or 
 bodies at a great distance appear to us much smaller 
 than they are. For, i n fi ne, w hether awake or asleep, 
 we ought never to allow ourselves to be persuaded of 
 the truth of anything unless on the evidence of our 
 Reaso n. And it must be noted that I say of our Reason, 
 and not of our imagination or of our senses: thus, for 
 example, although we very clearly see the sun, we ought 
 not therefore to determine that it is only of the size 
 which our sense of sight presents ; and we may very dis- 
 tinctly imagine the head of a lion joined to the body of 
 a goat, without being therefore shut up to the conclusion 
 that a chimera exists; for it is not a dictate of Reason 
 that what we thus see or imagine is in reality existent; 
 but it plainly tells us that all our ideas or notions contain 
 in them some truth; for otherwise it could not be that 
 God, who is wholly perfect and veracious, should have 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 177 
 
 placed them in us. And because our reasonings are never 
 sb“ clear~ or so complete during sleep as when we are 
 awake, although sometimes the acts of our imagination 
 are then as lively and distinct, if not more so than in 
 our waking moments, R eason furthe r dictates that, since 
 all our thoughts cannot be true because of ~ our partial 
 jmperfection, those possessing truth must infallibly be 
 found in the experience of our waking moments rather 
 than in that of our dreams. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 I would here willingly have proceeded to exhibit the 
 whole chain of truths which I deduced from these pri- 
 mary; but as with a view to this it would have been 
 necessary now to treat of many questions in dispute 
 among the learned, with whom I do not wish to be em- 
 broiled, I believe that it will be better for me to refrain 
 from this exposition, and only mention in general what 
 these truths are, that the more judicious may be able to 
 determine whether a more special account of them would 
 conduce to the public advantage. I have ever remained 
 firm in my original resolution to suppose no other prin- 
 ciple than that of which I have recently availed myself 
 in demonstrating the existence of God and of the soul, 
 and to accept as true nothing that did not appear to me 
 more clear and certain than the demonstrations of the 
 geometers had formerly appeared; and yet I venture to 
 state that not only have I found means to satisfy myself 
 in a short time on all the principal difficulties which are 
 usually treated of in Philosophy, but I have also ob- 
 served certain laws established in nature by God in such 
 a manner, and of which he has impressed on our minds 
 such notions, that after we have reflected sufficiently 
 upon these, we cannot doubt that they are accurately 
 observed in all that exists or takes place in the world: 
 and farther, by considering the concatenation of these 
 laws, it appears to me that I have discovered many truths 
 more useful and more important than all I had before 
 learned, or even had expected to learn. 
 
 But because I have essayed to expound the chief of 
 these discoveries in a Treatise which certain considera- 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 tions prevent me from publishing, I cannot make the 
 results known more conveniently than by here giving a 
 summary of the contents of this Treatise. It was my 
 design to comprise in it all that, before I set myself to 
 write it, I thought I knew of the nature of material ob- 
 jects. But like the painters who, finding themselves un- 
 able to represent equally well on a plain surface all the 
 different faces of a solid body, select one of the chief, 
 on which alone they make the light fall, and throwing 
 the rest into the shade, allow them to appear only in so 
 far as they can be seen while looking at the principal 
 one ; so, fearing lest I should not be able to comprise in 
 my discourse all that was in my mind, I resolved to 
 expound singly, though at considerable length, my opin- 
 ions regarding light ; then to take the opportunity ot 
 adding something on the sun and the fixed stars, since 
 light almost wholly proceeds from them; on the heavens 
 since they transmit it ; on the planets, comets, and earth, 
 since they reflect it; and particularly on all the bodies 
 that are upon the earth, since they are either colored, 
 or transparent, or luminous; and finally on man, since 
 he is the spectator of these objects. Further, to enable 
 me to cast this variety of subjects somewhat into the 
 shade, and to express my judgment regarding them with 
 greater freedom, without being necessitated to adopt or 
 refute the opinions of the learned, I resolved to leave all 
 the people here to their disputes, and to speak only of 
 what would happen in a new world, if God were now to 
 create somewhere in the imaginary spaces matter suf- 
 ficient to compose one, and were to agitate variously and 
 confusedly the different parts of this matter, so that 
 there resulted a chaos as disordered as the poets ever 
 feigned, and after that did nothing more than lend his 
 ordinary concurrence to nature, and allow her to act in 
 accordance with the laws which he had established. On 
 this supposition, I, in the first place, described this mat- 
 ter, and essayed to represent it in such a manner that 
 to my mind there can be nothing clearer and more in- 
 telligible, except what has been recently said regarding 
 God and the soul; for I even expressly supposed that it 
 possessed none of those forms or qualities which are so 
 debated in the Schools, nor in general anything the 
 knowledge of which is not so natural to our minds that 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 179 
 
 no one can so much as imagine himself ignorant of it. 
 Besides, I have pointed out what are the laws of nature ; 
 and with no other principle upon which to found my 
 reasonings except the infinite perfection of God, I en- 
 deavored to demonstrate all those about which there 
 could be any room for doubt, and to prove that they 
 are such, that even if God had created more worlds, 
 there could have been none in which these laws were 
 not observed. Thereafter, I showed how the great- 
 est part of the matter of this chaos must, in ac- 
 cordance with these laws, dispose and arrange itself in 
 such a way as to present the appearance of heavens; 
 how in the meantime some of its parts must compose 
 an earth and some planets and comets, and others a 
 sun and fixed stars. And, making a digression at this 
 stage on the subject of light, I expounded at consid- 
 erable length what the nature of that light must be 
 which is found in the sun and the stars, and how thence 
 in an instant of time it traverses the immense spaces of 
 the heavens, and how from the planets and comets it is 
 reflected toward the earth. To this I likewise added 
 much respecting the substance, the situation, the motions, 
 and all the different qualities of these heavens and stars; 
 so that I thought I had said enough respecting them to 
 show that there is nothing observable in the heavens or 
 stars of our system that must not, or at least may not, 
 appear precisely alike in those of the system which I 
 described. I came next to speak of the earth in par- 
 ticular, and to show how, even though I had expressly 
 supposed that God had given no weight to the matter of 
 which it is composed, this should not prevent all its parts 
 from tending exactly to its center; how with water and 
 air on its surface, the disposition of the heavens and 
 heavenly bodies, more especially of the moon, must cause 
 a flow and ebb, like in all its circumstances to that ob- 
 served in our seas, as also a certain current both of water 
 and air from east to west, such as is likewise observed 
 between the tropics; how the mountains, seas, fountains, 
 and rivers might naturally be formed in it, and the 
 metals produced in the mines, and the plants grow in 
 the fields; and in general, how all the bodies which are 
 commonly denominated mixed or composite might be 
 generated: and, among other things in the discoveries 
 
i8o 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 alluded to, inasmuch as besides the stars, I knew noth- 
 ing except fire which produces light, I spared no pains 
 to set forth all that pertains to its nature, the manner of 
 its production and support, and to explain how heat is 
 sometimes found without light, and light without heat; 
 to show how it can induce various colors upon different 
 bodies and other diverse qualities; how it reduces some 
 to a liquid state and hardens others; how it can con- 
 sume almost all bodies, or convert them into ashes and 
 smoke; and finally, how from these ashes, by the mere 
 intensity of its action, it forms glass: for as this trans- 
 mutation of ashes into glass appeared to me as wonder- 
 ful as any other in nature, I took a special pleasure in 
 describing it. 
 
 I was not, however, disposed, from these circumstances, 
 to conclude that this world had been created in the 
 manner I described; for it is much more likely that God 
 made it at the first such as it was to be. But this is 
 certain, and an opinion commonly received among the- 
 ologians, that the action by which he now sustains it is 
 the same with that by which he originally created it; so 
 that even although he had from the beginning given it 
 no other form than that of chaos, provided only he 
 had established certain laws of nature, and had lent it 
 his concurrence to enable it to act as it is wont to do, it 
 may be believed without discredit to the miracle of cre- 
 ation, that, in this way alone, things purely material 
 might, in course of time, have become such as we ob- 
 serve them at present; and their nature is much more 
 easily conceived when they are beheld coming in this 
 manner gradually into existence, than when they are 
 only considered as produced at once in a finished and 
 perfect state. 
 
 From the description of inanimate bodies and plants, 
 I passed to animals, and particularly to man. But since 
 I had not as yet sufficient knowledge to enable me to 
 treat of these in the same manner as of the rest, that 
 is to say, by deducing effects from their causes, and by 
 showing from what elements and in what manner na- 
 ture must produce them, I remained satisfied with the 
 supposition that God formed the body of man wholly like 
 to one of ours, as well in the external shape of the 
 members as in the internal conformation of the organs, 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 1 8 1 
 
 of the same matter with that I had described, and at 
 first placed in it no Rational Soul, nor any other prin- 
 ciple, in room of the Vegetative or Sensitive Soul, be- 
 yond kindling in the heart one of those fires without 
 light, such as I had already described, and which I 
 thought was not different from the heat in hay that has 
 been heaped together before it is dry, or that which 
 causes fermentation in new wines before they are run 
 clear of the fruit. For, when I examined the kind of func- 
 tions which might, as consequences of this supposition, 
 exist in this body, I found precisely all those which 
 may exist in us independently of all power of thinking, 
 and consequently without being in any measure owing to 
 the soul; in other words, to that part of us which is dis- 
 tinct from the body, and of which it has been said above 
 that the nature distinctly consists in thinking, functions 
 in which the animals void of Reason may be said wholly 
 to resemble us; but among which I could not discover 
 any of those that, as dependent on thought alone, belong 
 to us as men, while, on the other hand, I did afterward 
 discover these as soon as I supposed God to have cre- 
 ated a Rational Soul, and to have annexed it to this 
 body in a particular manner which I described. 
 
 But, in order to show how I there handled this mat- 
 ter, I mean here to give the explication of the motion 
 of the heart and arteries, which, as the first and most 
 general motion observed in animals, will afford the 
 means of readily determining what should be thought 
 of all the rest. And that there may be less difficulty 
 in understanding what I am about to say on this sub- 
 ject, I advise those who are not versed in Anatomy, 
 before they commence the perusal of these observations, 
 to take the trouble of getting dissected in their presence 
 the heart of some large animal possessed of lungs, (for 
 this is throughout sufficiently like the human), and to 
 have shown to them its two ventricles or cavities: in 
 the first place, that in the right side, with which cor- 
 respond two very ample tubes, viz., the hollow vein, 
 (vena cava), which is the principal receptacle of the 
 blood, and the trunk of the tree, as it were, of which 
 all the other veins in the body are branches; and the 
 arterial vein, ( vena arteriosa ), inappropriately so denom- 
 inated, since it is in truth only an artery, which, 
 
182 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 taking its rise in the heart, is divided, after passing out 
 from it, into many branches which presently disperse 
 themselves all over the lungs; in the second place, the 
 cavity in the left side, with which correspond in the 
 same manner two canals in size equal to or larger than 
 the preceding, viz, the venous artery, ( arteria venosa ), 
 likewise inappropriately thus designated, because it is 
 simply a vein which comes from the lungs, where it is 
 divided into many branches, interlaced with those of 
 the arterial vein, and those of the tube called the 
 windpipe, through which the air we breathe enters; 
 and the great artery which, issuing from the heart, 
 sends its branches all over the body. I should wish 
 also that such persons were carefully shown the eleven 
 pellicles which, like so many small valves, open and 
 shut the four orifices that are in these two cavities, 
 viz., three at the entrance of the hollow vein, where 
 they are disposed in such a manner as by no means to 
 prevent the blood which it contains from flowing into 
 the right ventricle of the heart, and yet exactly to 
 prevent its flowing out; three at the entrance to the 
 arterial vein, which, arranged in a manner exactly the 
 opposite of the former, readily permit the blood con- 
 tained in this cavity to pass into the lungs, but hinder 
 that contained in the lungs from returning to this 
 cavity; and, in like manner, two others at the mouth 
 of the venous artery, which allow the blood from the 
 kings to flow into the left cavity of the heart, but pre- 
 clude its return; and three at the mouth of the great 
 artery, which suffer the blood to flow from the heart, 
 but prevent its reflux. Nor do we need to seek any 
 other reasons for the number of these pellicles beyond 
 this that the orifice of the venous artery being of an 
 oval shape from the nature of its situation, can be ade- 
 quately closed with two, whereas the others being 
 round are more conveniently closed with three. Be- 
 sides, I wish such persons to observe that the grand 
 artery and the arterial vein are of much harder and 
 firmer texture than the venous artery and the hollow 
 vein; and that the two last expand before entering the 
 heart, and there form, as it were, two pouches denom- 
 inated the auricles of the heart, which are composed 
 of a substance similar to that of the heart itself; and 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 183 
 
 that there is always more warmth in the heart than in 
 any other part of the body; and, finally, that this heat 
 is capable of causing any drop of blood that passes into 
 the cavities rapidly to expand and dilate, just as all 
 liquors do when allowed to fall drop by drop into a 
 highly heated vessel. 
 
 For, after these things, it is not necessary for me to 
 say anything more with a view to explain the motion of 
 the heart, except that when its cavities are not full of 
 blood, into these the blood of necessity flows, from the hol- 
 low vein into the right, and from the venous artery into 
 the left; because these two vessels are always full of 
 blood, and their orifices, which are turned toward the 
 heart, cannot then be closed. But as soon as two drops 
 of blood have thus passed, one into each of the cavities, 
 these drops which cannot but be very large, because the 
 orifices through which they pass are wide, and the vessels 
 from which they come full of blood, are immediately rare- 
 fied, and dilated by the heat they meet with. In this way 
 they cause the whole heart to expand, and at the same 
 time press home and shut the five small valves that are 
 at the entrances of the two vessels from which they flow, 
 and thus prevent any more blood from coming down into the 
 heart, and becoming more and more rarefied, they push open 
 the six small valves that are in the orifices of the other 
 two vessels, through which they pass out, causing in this 
 way all the branches of the arterial vein and of the grand 
 artery to expand almost simultaneously with the heart — 
 which immediately thereafter begins to contract, as do 
 also the arteries, because the blood that has entered them 
 has cooled, and the six small valves close, and the five of 
 the hollow vein and of the venous artery open anew and 
 allow a passage to other two drops of blood, which 
 cause the heart and the arteries again to expand as be- 
 fore. And, because the blood which thus enters into the 
 heart passes through these two pouches called auricles, it 
 thence happens that their motion is the contrary of that 
 of the heart, and that when it expands they contract. But 
 lest those who are ignorant of the force of mathematical 
 demonstrations, and who are not accustomed to distinguish 
 true reasons from mere verisimilitudes, should venture, 
 without examination, to deny what has been said, I wish 
 it to be considered that the motion which I have now 
 
184 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 explained follows as necessarily from the very arrange- 
 ment of the parts, which may be observed in the heart 
 by the eye alone, and from the heat which may be felt 
 with the fingers, and from the nature of the blood as 
 learned from experience, as does the motion of a clock 
 from the power, the situation, and shape of its counter- 
 weights and wheels. 
 
 But if it be asked how it happens that the blood in 
 the veins, flowing in this way continually into the heart, 
 is not exhausted, and why the arteries do not become 
 too full, since all the blood which passes through the 
 heart flows into them, I need only mention in reply what 
 has been written by a physician* of England, who has 
 the honor of having broken the ice on this subject, and 
 of having been the first to teach that there are many 
 small passages at the extremities of the arteries, through 
 which the blood received by them from the heart passes 
 into the small branches of the veins, whence it again 
 returns to the heart ; so that its course amounts precisely 
 to a perpetual circulation. Of this we have abundant 
 proof in the ordinary experience of surgeons, who, by 
 binding the arm with a tie of moderate straitness above 
 the part where they open the vein, cause the blood to 
 flow more copiously than it would have done without 
 any ligature ; whereas quite the contrary would happen 
 were they to bind it below; that is, between the hand 
 and the opening, or were to make the ligature above the 
 opening very tight. For it is manifest that the tie, 
 moderately straitened, while adequate to hinder the blood 
 already in the arm from returning toward the heart by 
 the veins, cannot on that account prevent new blood 
 from coming forward through the arteries, because these 
 are situated below the veins, and their coverings, from 
 their greater consistency, are more difficult to compress; 
 and also that the blood which comes from the heart 
 tends to pass through them to the hand with greater 
 force than it does to return from the hand to the heart 
 through the veins. And since the latter current escapes 
 from the arm by the opening made in one of the veins, 
 there must of necessity be certain passages below the 
 ligature, that is, toward the extremities of the arm 
 through which it can come thither from the arteries. 
 
 * Harvey. — Lat. Tr. 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 185 
 
 This physician likewise abundantly establishes what he 
 has advanced respecting the motion of the blood, from 
 the existence of certain pellicles, so disposed in various 
 places along the course of the veins, in the manner of 
 small valves, as not to permit the blood to pass from the 
 middle of the body toward the extremities, but only to 
 return from the extremities to the heart; and farther, 
 from experience which shows that all the blood which 
 is in the body may flow out of it in a very short time 
 through a single artery that has been cut, even although 
 this had been closely tied in the immediate neighbor- 
 hood of the heart, and cut between the heart and the liga- 
 ture, so as to prevent the supposition that the blood flowing 
 out of it could come from any other quarter than the heart. 
 
 But there are many other circumstances which evince 
 that what I have alleged is the true cause of the motion 
 of the blood: thus, in the first place, the difference that 
 is observed between the blood which flows from the veins, 
 and that from the arteries, can only arise from this, that 
 being rarefied, and, as it were, distilled by passing 
 through the heart, it is thinner, and more vivid, and 
 warmer immediately after leaving the heart, in other 
 words, when in the arteries, than it was a short time 
 before passing into either, in other words, when it was 
 in the veins; and if attention be given, it will be found 
 that this difference is very marked only in the neighbor- 
 hood of the heart; and is not so evident in parts more 
 remote from it. In the next place, the consistency of the 
 coats of which the arterial vein and the great artery are 
 composed, sufficiently shows that the blood is impelled 
 against them with more force than against the veins. 
 And why should the left cavity of the heart and the great 
 artery be wider and larger than the right cavity and the 
 arterial vein, were it not that the blood of the venous 
 artery, having only been in the lungs after it has passed 
 through the heart, is thinner, and rarefies more readily, 
 and in a higher degree, than the blood which proceeds 
 immediately from the hollow vein ? And what can phy- 
 sicians conjecture from feeling the pulse unless they know 
 that according as the blood changes its nature it can be 
 rarefied by the warmth of the heart, in a higher or lower 
 degree, and more or less quickly than before ? And if it 
 be inquired how this heat is communicated to the other 
 
1 86 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 members, must it not be admitted that this is effected by- 
 means of the blood, which, passing through the heart, is 
 there heated anew, and thence diffused over all the body ? 
 Whence it happens, that if the blood be withdrawn from 
 any part, the heat is likewise withdrawn by the same 
 means; and although the heart were as hot as glowing 
 iron, it would not be capable of warming the feet and 
 hands as at present, unless it continually sent thither 
 new blood. We likewise perceive from this, that the 
 true use of respiration is to bring sufficient fresh air 
 into the lungs, to cause the blood which flows into 
 them from the right ventricle of the heart, where it 
 has been rarefied and, as it were, changed into vapors, 
 to become thick, and to convert it anew into blood, 
 before it flows into the left cavity, without which process 
 it would be unfit for the nourishment of the fire that is 
 there. This receives confirmation from the circumstance, 
 that it is observed of animals destitute of lungs that they 
 have also but one cavity in the heart, and that in chil- 
 dren who cannot use them while in the womb, there is 
 a hole through which the blood flows from the hollow 
 vein into the left cavity of the heart and a tube through 
 which it passes from the arterial vein into the grand ar- 
 tery without passing through the lung. In the next 
 place, how could digestion be carried on in the stomach, 
 unless the heart communicated heat to it through the 
 arteries, and along with this certain of the more fluid 
 parts of the blood, which assist in the dissolution of the 
 food that has been taken in ? Is not also the operation 
 which converts the juice of food into blood easily com- 
 prehended, when it is considered that it is distilled by 
 passing and repassing through the heart perhaps more 
 than one or two hundred times in a day ? And what 
 more need be adduced to explain nutrition, and the pro- 
 duction of the different humors of the body, beyond 
 saying, that the force with which the blood, in being 
 rarefied, passes from the heart toward the extremities of 
 the arteries, causes certain of its parts to remain in the 
 members at which they arrive, and there occupy the 
 place of some others expelled by them ; and that accord- 
 ing to the situation, shape, or smallness of the pores 
 with which they meet, some rather than others flow into 
 certain parts, in the same way that some sieves are 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 187 
 
 observed to act, which, by being variously perforated, 
 serve to separate different species of grain ? And, in the 
 last place, what above all is here worthy of observation, 
 is the generation of the animal spirits, which are like a 
 very subtle wind, or rather a very pure and vivid flame, 
 which, continually ascending in great abundance from the 
 heart to the brain, thence penetrates through the nerves 
 into the muscles, and gives motion to all the members; 
 so that to account for other parts of the blood which, as 
 most agitated and penetrating, are the fittest to compose 
 these spirits, proceeding toward the brain, it is not nec- 
 essary to suppose any other cause, than simply, that the 
 arteries which carry them thither proceed from the heart 
 in the most direct lines, and that, according to the rules 
 of Mechanics, which are the same with those of Nature, 
 when many objects tend at once to the same point where 
 there is not sufficient room for all (as is the case with 
 the parts of the blood which flow forth from the left 
 cavity of the heart and tend toward the brain), the 
 weaker and less agitated parts must necessarily be driven 
 aside from that point by the stronger which alone in this 
 way reach it. 
 
 I had expounded all these matters with sufficient min- 
 uteness in the Treatise which I formerly thought of 
 publishing. And after these, I had shown what must be 
 the fabric of the nerves and muscles of the human body 
 to give the animal spirits contained in it the power to 
 move the members, as when we see heads shortly after 
 they have been struck off still move and bite the earth, 
 although no longer animated; what changes must take 
 place in the brain to produce waking, sleep and dreams; 
 how light, sounds, odors, tastes, heat, and all the other 
 qualities of external objects impress it with different 
 ideas by means of the senses; how hunger, thirst, and 
 the other internal affections can likewise impress upon it 
 divers ideas; what must be understood by the common 
 sense (sensus communis ) in which these ideas are received, 
 by the memory which retains them, by the fantasy which 
 can change them in various ways, and out of them com- 
 pose new ideas, and which, by the same means, distribut- 
 ing the animal spirits through the muscles, can cause the 
 members of such a body to move in as many different 
 ways, and in a manner as suited, whether to the objects 
 
1 88 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 that are presented to its senses or to its internal affec- 
 tions, as can take place in our own case apart from the 
 guidance of the will. Nor will this appear at all strange 
 to those who are acquainted with the variety of move- 
 ments performed by the different automata, or moving 
 machines fabricated by human industry, and that with 
 help of but few pieces compared with the great multi- 
 tude of bones, muscles, nerves, arteries, veins, and othei 
 parts that are found in the body of each animal. Such 
 persons will look upon this body as a machine made by 
 the hands of God, which is incomparably better arranged, 
 and adequate to movements more admirable than is any 
 machine of human invention. And here I specially 
 stayed to show that, were there such machines exactly 
 resembling in organs and outward form an ape or any 
 other irrational animal, we could have no means of know- 
 ing that they were in any respect of a different nature 
 from these animals; but if there were machines bearing 
 the image of our bodies, and capable of imitating our 
 actions as far as it is morally possible, there would still 
 remain two most certain tests whereby to know that they 
 were not therefore really men. Of these the first is that 
 they could never use words or other signs arranged in 
 such a manner as is competent to us in order to declare 
 our thoughts to others: for we may easily conceive a 
 machine to be so constructed that it emits vocables, and 
 even that it emits some correspondent to the action upon 
 it of external objects which cause a change in its organs; 
 for example, if touched in a particular place it may 
 
 demand what we wish to say to it ; if in another, it may 
 
 cry out that it is hurt, and such like; but not that it 
 should arrange them variously so as appositely to reply 
 to what is said in its presence, as men of the lowest 
 grade of intellect can do. The second test is, that 
 although such machines might execute many things 
 
 with equal or perhaps greater perfection than any of 
 us, they would, without doubt, fail in certain others 
 
 from which it could be discovered that they did not act 
 from knowledge, but solely from the disposition of their 
 organs: for while Reason is an universal instrument 
 that is alike available on every occasion, these organs, on 
 the contrary, need a particular arrangement for each par- 
 ticular action ; whence it must be morally impossible that 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 189 
 
 there should exist in any machine a diversity of organs 
 sufficient to enable it to act in all the occurrences of life, 
 in the way in which our reason enables us to act. 
 Again, by means of these two tests we may likewise 
 know the difference between men and brutes. For it is 
 highly deserving of remark, that there are no men so 
 dull and stupid, not even idiots, as to be incapable of 
 joining together different words, and thereby constructing 
 a declaration by which to make their thoughts under- 
 stood; and that on the other hand, there is no other 
 animal, however perfect or happily circumstanced which 
 can do the like. Nor does this inability arise from want 
 of organs: for we observe that magpies and parrots can 
 utter words like ourselves, and are yet unable to speak 
 as we do, that is, so as to show that they understand what 
 they say; in place of which men born deaf and dumb, and 
 thus not less, but rather more than the brutes, destitute 
 of the organs which others use in speaking, are in the 
 habit of spontaneously inventing certain signs by which 
 they discover their thoughts to those who, being usually 
 in their company, have leisure to learn their language. 
 And this proves not only that the brutes have less Reason 
 than man, but that they have none at all : for we see that 
 very little is required to enable a person to speak; and 
 since a certain inequality of capacity is observable among 
 animals of the same species, as well as among men, and 
 since some are more capable of being instructed than 
 others, it is incredible that the most perfect ape or parrot 
 of its species, should not in this be equal to the most 
 stupid infant of its kind, or at least to one that was 
 crack-brained, unless the soul of brutes were of a nature 
 wholly different from ours. And we ought not to con- 
 found speech with the natural movements which indicate 
 the passions, and can be imitated by machines as well as 
 manifested by animals ; nor must it be thought with 
 certain of the ancients, that the brutes speak, although 
 we do not understand their language. For if such were 
 the case, since they are endowed with many organs 
 analogous to ours, they could as easily communicate their 
 thoughts to us as to their fellows. It is also very worthy 
 of remark, that, though there are many animals which 
 manifest more industry than we in certain of their actions, 
 the same animals are yet observed to show none at all in 
 
i go 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 many others : so that the circumstance that they do tetter 
 than we does not prove that they are endowed with mind, 
 for it would thence follow that they possessed greater 
 Reason than any of us, and could surpass us in all things ; 
 on the contrary, it rather proves that they are destitute 
 of Reason, and that it is Nature which acts in them accord- 
 ing to the disposition of their organs: thus it is seen, 
 that a clock composed only of wheels and weights, can 
 number the hours and measure time more exactly than 
 we with all our skill. 
 
 I had after this described the Reasonable Soul, and 
 shown that it could by no means be educed from the 
 power of matter, as the other things of which I had 
 spoken, but that it must be expressly created ; and that 
 it is not sufficient that it be lodged in the human body 
 exactly like a pilot in a ship, unless perhaps to move 
 its members, but that it is necessary for it to be joined 
 and united more closely to the body, in order to have 
 sensations and appetites similar to ours, and thus con- 
 stitute a real man. I here entered, in conclusion upon 
 the subject of the soul at considerable length, because 
 it is of the greatest moment : for after the error of those 
 who deny the existence of God, an error which I think 
 I have already sufficiently refuted, there is none that is 
 more powerful in leading feeble minds astray from the 
 straight path of virtue than the supposition that the soul 
 of the brutes is of the same nature with our own ; and 
 consequently that after this life we have nothing to hope 
 for or fear, more than flies and ants; in place of which, 
 when we know how far they differ we much better com- 
 prehend the reasons which establish that the soul is of 
 a nature wholly independent of the body, and that con- 
 sequently it is not liable to die with the latter; and, 
 finally, because no other causes are observed capable of 
 destroying it, we are naturally led thence to judge that 
 it is immortal. 
 
 PART VI. 
 
 Three years have now elapsed since I finished the 
 Treatise containing all these matters; and I was begin- 
 ning to revise it, with the view to put it into the hands 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 191 
 
 of a printer, when I learned that persons to whom I 
 greatly defer, and whose authority over my action is 
 hardly less influential than is my own Reason over my 
 thoughts, had condemned a certain doctrine in Physics, 
 published a short time previously by another individual,* 
 to which I will not say that I adhered, but only that, 
 previously to their censure, I had observed in it nothing 
 which I could imagine to be prejudicial either to religion 
 or to the state, and nothing therefore which would have 
 prevented me from giving expression to it in writing, if 
 Reason had persuaded me of its truth; and this led me 
 to fear lest among my own doctrines likewise some one 
 might be found in which I had departed from the truth, 
 notwithstanding the great care I have always taken not 
 to accord belief to new opinions of which I had not the 
 most certain demonstrations, and not to give expression 
 to aught that might tend to the hurt of any one. This 
 has been sufficient to make me alter my purpose of pub- 
 lishing them; for although the reasons by which I had 
 been induced to take this resolution were very strong, 
 yet my inclination, which has alway been hostile to writ- 
 ing books, enabled me immediately to discover other con- 
 siderations sufficient to excuse me for not undertaking 
 the task. And these reasons, on one side and the other, 
 are such, that not only is it in some measure my inter- 
 est here to state them, but that of the public, perhaps, 
 to know them. 
 
 I have never made much account of what has proceeded 
 from my own mind; and so long as I gathered no other 
 advantage from the Method I employ beyond satisfying 
 myself on some difficulties belonging to the speculative 
 sciences, or endeavoring to regulate my actions according 
 to the principles it taught me, I never thought myself 
 bound to publish anything respecting it. For in what 
 regards manners, every one is so full of his own wisdom, 
 that there might be found as many reformers as heads, 
 if any were allowed to take upon themselves the task of 
 mending them, except those whom God has constituted 
 the supreme rulers of his people, or to whom he has 
 given sufficient grace and zeal to be prophets; and al- 
 though my speculations greatly pleased myself, I believed 
 that others had theirs, which perhaps pleased them still 
 
 * Galileo. — 7V. 
 
193 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 more. But as soon as I had acquired some general no- 
 tions respecting Physics, and beginning to make trial of 
 them in various particular difficulties, had observed how 
 far they can carry us, and how much they differ from the 
 principles that have been employed up to the present 
 time, I believed that I could not keep them concealed 
 without sinning grievously against the law by which we 
 are bound to promote, as far as in us lies, the general 
 good of mankind. For by them I perceived it to be pos- 
 sible to arrive at knowledge highly useful in life ; and in 
 room of the Speculative Philosophy usually taught in the 
 Schools, to discover a Practical, by means of which, 
 knowing the force and action of fire, water, air, the stars, 
 the heavens, and all the other bodies that surround us, as 
 distinctly as we know the various crafts of our artisans, 
 we might also apply them in the same way to all the 
 uses to which they are adapted, and thus render ourselves 
 the lords and possessors of nature. And this is a result 
 to be desired, not only in order to the invention of an 
 infinity of arts, by which we might be enabled to enjoy 
 without any trouble the fruits of the earth, and all its 
 comforts, but also and especially for the preservation of 
 health, which is without doubt, of all the blessings of 
 this life, the first and fundamental one ; for the mind is 
 so intimately dependent upon the condition and relation 
 of the organs of the body, that if any means can ever 
 be found to render men wiser and more ingenious than 
 hitherto, I believe that it is in Medicine they must be sought 
 for. It is true that the science of Medicine, as it now 
 exists, contains few things whose utility is very remarka- 
 ble : but without any wish to depreciate it, I am confident 
 that there is no one, even among those whose profession 
 it is, who does not admit that all at present known in it 
 is almost nothing in comparison of what remains to be 
 discovered; and that we could free ourselves from an in- 
 finity of maladies of body as well as of mind, and per- 
 haps also even from the debility of age, if we had 
 sufficiently ample knowledge of their causes, and of all 
 the remedies provided for us by Nature. But since I de- 
 signed to employ my whole life in the search after so 
 necessary a Science, and since I had fallen in with a path 
 which seems to me such, that if any one follow it he must 
 inevitably reach the end desired, unless he be hindered 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 '93 
 
 either by the shortness of life or the want of experiments, 
 I judged that there could be no more effectual provision 
 against these two impediments than if I were faithfully 
 to communicate to the public all the little I might my- 
 self have found, and incite men of superior genius to 
 strive to proceed farther, by contributing, each accord- 
 ing to his inclination and ability, to the experiments 
 which it would be necessary to make, and also by in- 
 forming the public of all they might discover, so that, 
 by the last beginning where those before them had left 
 off, and thus connecting the lives and labors of many, 
 we might collectively proceed much farther than each by 
 himself could do. 
 
 I remarked, moreover, with respect to experiments, 
 that they become always more necessary the more one 
 is advanced in knowledge; for, at the commencement, it 
 is better to make use only of what is spontaneously pre- 
 sented to our senses, and of which we cannot remain 
 ignorant, provided we bestow on it any reflection, how- 
 ever slight, than to concern ourselves about more un- 
 common and recondite phenomena: the reason of which 
 is, that the more uncommon often only mislead us so 
 long as the causes of the more ordinary are still unknown ; 
 and the circumstances upon which they depend are almost 
 always so special and minute as to be highly difficult to 
 detect. But in this I have adopted the following order: 
 first, I have essayed to find in general the principles, or 
 first causes of all that is or can be in the world, without 
 taking into consideration for this end anything but God 
 himself who has created it, and without educing them 
 from any other source than from certain germs of truths 
 naturally existing in our minds. In the second place, I 
 examined what were the first and most ordinary effects 
 that could be deduced from these causes; and it appears 
 to me that, in this way, I have found heavens, stars, 
 and earth, and even on the earth, water, air, fire, minerals, 
 and some other things of this kind, which of all others 
 are the most common and simple, and hence the easiest 
 to know. Afterward, when I wished to descend to the 
 more particular, so many diverse objects presented them- 
 selves to me, that I believed it to be impossible for the 
 human mind to distinguish the forms or species of bodies 
 that are upon the earth, from an infinity of others which 
 13 
 
194 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 might have been, if it had pleased God to place them 
 there, or consequently to apply them to our use, unless 
 we rise to causes through their effects, and avail ourselves 
 of many particular experiments. Thereupon, turning 
 over in my mind all the objects that had ever been pre- 
 sented to my senses, I freely venture to state that I have 
 never observed any which I could not satisfactorily ex- 
 plain by the principles I had discovered. But it is neces- 
 sary also to confess that the power of nature is so ample 
 and vast, and these principles so simple and general, that 
 I have hardly observed a single particular effect which I 
 cannot at once recognize as capable of being deduced in 
 many different modes from the principles, and that my 
 greatest difficulty usually is to discover in which of these 
 modes the effect is dependent upon them ; for out of this 
 difficulty I cannot otherwise extricate myself than by 
 again seeking certain experiments, which may be such 
 that their result is not the same, if it is in the one of 
 these modes that we must explain it, as it would be if 
 it were to be explained in the other. As to what re- 
 mains, I am now in a position to discern, as I think, 
 with sufficient clearness what course must be taken to 
 make the majority of those experiments which may con- 
 duce to this end; but I perceive likewise that they are 
 such and so numerous, that neither my hands nor my 
 income, though it were a thousand times larger than it 
 is, would be sufficient for them all; so that, according as 
 henceforward I shall have the means of making more or 
 fewer experiments, I shall in the same proportion make 
 greater or less progress in the knowledge of nature. This 
 was what I had hoped to make known by the Treatise I 
 had written, and so clearly to exhibit the advantage that 
 would thence accrue to the public, as to induce all who 
 have the common good of man at heart, that is, all who 
 are virtuous in truth, and not merely in appearance, or 
 according to opinion, as well to communicate to me the 
 experiments they had already made, as to assist me in 
 those that remain to be made. 
 
 But since that time other reasons have occurred to me, 
 by which I have been led to change my opinion, and to 
 think that I ought indeed to go on committing to writ- 
 ing all the results which I deemed of any moment, as 
 soon as I should have tested their truth, and to bestow 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 195 
 
 the same care upon them as I would have done had it 
 been my design to publish them. This course commended 
 itself to me, as well because I thus afforded myself more 
 ample inducement to examine them thoroughly, for doubt- 
 less that is always more narrowly scrutinized which we 
 believe will be read by many, than that which is written 
 merely for our private use (and frequently what has seemed 
 to me true when I first conceived it, has appeared false 
 when I have set about committing it to writing) ; as be- 
 cause I thus lost no opportunity of advancing the inter- 
 ests of the public, as far as in me lay, and since thus likewise 
 if my writings possess any value, those into whose hands 
 they may fall after my death may be able to put them 
 to what use they deem proper. But I resolved by no means 
 to consent to their publication during my lifetime, lest 
 either the oppositions or the controversies to which they 
 might give rise, or even the reputation, such as it might 
 be, which they would acquire for me, should be any oc- 
 casion of my losing the time that I had set apart for my 
 own improvement. For though it be true that every one 
 is bound to promote to the extent of his ability the good 
 of others, and that to be useful to no one is really to be 
 worthless, yet it is likewise true that our cares ought to 
 extend beyond the present; and it is good to omit doing 
 what might perhaps bring some profit to the living, when 
 we have in view the accomplishment of other ends that 
 will be of much greater advantage to posterity. And in 
 truth, I am quite willing it should be known that the little 
 I have hitherto learned is almost nothing in comparison 
 with that of which I am ignorant, and to the knowledge 
 of which I do not despair of being able to attain; for it 
 is much the same with those who gradually discover 
 truth in the Sciences, as with those who when growing 
 rich find less difficulty in making great acquisitions, than 
 they formerly experienced when poor in making acquisi- 
 tions of much smaller amount. Or they may be compared 
 to the commanders of armies, whose forces usually in- 
 crease in proportion to their victories, and who need greater 
 prudence to keep together the residue of their troops after 
 a defeat than after a victory to take towns and provinces. 
 For he truly engages in battle who endeavors to surmount 
 all the difficulties and errors which prevent him from reach- 
 ing the knowledge of truth, and he is overcome in fight who 
 
196 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 admits a false opinion touching a matter of any generality 
 and importance, and he requires thereafter much more 
 skill to recover his former position than to make great 
 advances when once in possession of thoroughly ascer- 
 tained principles. As for myself, if I have succeeded in 
 discovering any truths in the Sciences (and I trust that 
 what is contained in this volume* will show that I have 
 found some), I can declare that they are but the conse- 
 quences and results of five or six principal difficulties 
 which I have surmounted, and my encounters with which 
 I reckoned as battles in which victory declared for me. 
 I will not hesitate even to avow my belief that nothing 
 further is wanting to enable me fully to realize my 
 designs than to gain two or three similar victories; and 
 that I am not so far advanced in years but that, accord- 
 ing to the ordinary course of nature, I may still have 
 sufficient leisure for this end. But I conceive myself the 
 more bound to husband the time that remains the greater 
 my expectation of being able to employ it aright, and I 
 should doubtless have much to rob me of it, were I to 
 publish the principles of my Physics; for although they 
 are almost all so evident that to assent to them no more 
 is needed than simply to understand them, and although 
 there is not one of them of which I do not expect to be 
 able to give demonstration, yet, as it is impossible that 
 they can be in accordance with all the diverse opinions 
 of others, I foresee that I should frequently be turned 
 aside from my grand design, on occasion of the opposi- 
 tion which they would be sure to awaken. 
 
 It may be said, that these oppositions would be useful 
 both in making me aware of my errors, and, if my specu- 
 lations contain anything of value, in bringing others to 
 a fuller understanding of it; and still farther, as many 
 can see better than one, in leading others who are now 
 beginning to avail themselves of my principles, to assist 
 me in turn with their discoveries. But though I recog- 
 nize my extreme liability to error, and scarce ever trust 
 to the first thoughts which occur to me, yet the experience 
 I have had of possible objections to my views prevents 
 me from anticipating any profit from them. For I have 
 already had frequent proof of the judgments, as well of 
 
 * The Discourse on Method was originally published along with the 
 Dioptrics, the Meteorics, and the Geometry. 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 197 
 
 those I esteemed friends, as of some others to whom I 
 thought I was an object of indifference, and even of 
 some whose malignity and envy would, I knew, deter- 
 mine them to endeavor to discover what partiality con- 
 cealed from the eyes of my friends. But it has rarely 
 happened that anything has been objected to me which 
 I had myself altogether overlooked, unless it were some- 
 thing far removed from the subject: so that I have never 
 met with a single critic of my opinions who did not ap- 
 pear to me either less rigorous or less equitable than 
 myself. And further, I have never observed that any 
 truth before unknown has been brought to light by the 
 disputations that are practiced in the Schools; for while 
 each strives for the victory, each is much more occupied 
 in making the best of mere verisimilitude, than in 
 weighing the reasons on both sides of the question; and 
 those who have been long good advocates are not after- 
 ward on that account the better judges. 
 
 As for the advantage that others would derive from 
 the communication of my thoughts, it could not be very 
 great; because I have not yet so far prosecuted them as 
 that much does not remain to be added before they can 
 be applied to practice. And I think I may say without 
 vanity, that if there is any one who can carry them out 
 that length, it must be myself rather than another: 
 not that there may not be in the world many minds 
 incomparably superior to mine, but because one cannot 
 so well seize a thing and make it one’s own, when it has 
 been learned from another, as when one has himself 
 discovered it. And so true is this of the present subject 
 that, though I have often explained some of my opinions 
 to persons of much acuteness, who, whilst I was speak- 
 ing, appeared to understand them very distinctly, yet, 
 when they repeated them, I have observed that they 
 almost always changed them to such an extent that I 
 could no longer acknowledge them as mine. I am glad, 
 by the way, to take this opportunity of requesting pos- 
 terity never to believe on hearsay that anything has 
 proceeded from me which has not been published by 
 myself; and I am not at all astonished at the extrava- 
 gances attributed to those ancient philosophers whose 
 own writings we do not possess; whose thoughts, how- 
 ever, I do not on that account suppose to have been 
 
DISCOURSE 
 
 really absurd, seeing they were among the ablest men 
 of their times, but only that these have been falsely 
 represented to us. It is observable, accordingly, that 
 scarcely in a single instance has any one of their disci- 
 ples surpassed them; and I am quite sure that the most 
 devoted of the present followers of Aristotle would think 
 themselves happy if they had as much knowledge of nature 
 as he possessed, were it even under the condition that they 
 should never afterward attain to higher. In this respect 
 they are like the ivy which never strives to rise above the 
 tree that sustains it, and which frequently even returns 
 downward when it has reached the top; for it seems 
 to me that they also sink, in other words, render them- 
 selves less wise than they would be if they gave up 
 study, who, not contented with knowing all that is in- 
 telligibly explained in their author, desire in addition to 
 find in him the solution of many difficulties of which he 
 says not a word, and never perhaps so much as thought. 
 Their fashion of philosophizing, however, is well suited 
 to persons whose abilities fall below mediocrity; for the 
 obscurity of the distinctions and principles of which they 
 make use enables them to speak of all things with as 
 much confidence as if they really knew them, and to 
 defend all that they say on any subject against the most 
 subtle and skillful, without its being possible for anyone 
 to convict them of error. In this they seem to me to be 
 like a blind man, who, in order to fight on equal terms 
 with a person that sees, should have made him descend 
 to the bottom of an intensely dark cave: and I may say 
 that such persons have an interest in my refraining from 
 publishing the principles of the Philosophy of which I 
 make use ; for, since these are of a kind the simplest and 
 most evident, I should, by publishing them, do much the 
 same as if I were to throw open the windows, and allow 
 the light of day to enter the cave into which the com- 
 batants had descended. But even superior men have no 
 reason for any great anxiety to know these principles, 
 for if what they desire is to be able to speak of all 
 things, and to acquire a reputation for learning, they will 
 gain their end more easily by remaining satisfied with 
 the appearance of truth, which can be found without 
 much difficulty in all sorts of matters, than by seeking 
 the truth itself which unfolds itself but slowly and that 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 199 
 
 only in some departments, while it obliges us, when we 
 have to speak of others, freely to confess our ignorance. 
 If, however, they prefer the knowledge of some few 
 truths to the vanity of appearing ignorant of none, as 
 such knowledge is undoubtedly much to be preferred, 
 and, if they choose to follow a course similar to mine, 
 they do not require for this that I should say anything 
 more than I have already said in this Discourse. For if 
 they are capable of making greater advancement than I 
 have made, they will much more be able of themselves 
 to discover all that I believe myself to have found; since 
 as I have never examined aught except in order, it is 
 certain that what yet remains to be discovered is in itself 
 more difficult and recondite, than that which I have 
 already been enabled to find, and the gratification would 
 be much less in learning it from me than in discovering 
 it for themselves. Besides this, the habit which they 
 will acquire, by seeking first what is easy, and then 
 passing onward slowly and step by step to the more 
 difficult, will benefit them more than all my instructions. 
 Thus, in my own case, I am persuaded that if I had been 
 taught from my youth all the truths of which I have 
 since sought out demonstrations, and had thus learned 
 them without labor, I should never, perhaps, have known 
 any beyond these ; at least, I should never have acquired 
 the habit and the facility which I think I possess in 
 always discovering new truths in proportion as I give 
 myself to the search. And, in a single word, if there is 
 any work in the world which cannot be so well finished 
 by another as by him who has commenced it, it is that 
 at which I labor. 
 
 It is true, indeed, as regards the experiments which 
 may conduce to this end, that one man is not equal to 
 the task of making them all; but yet he can advanta- 
 geously avail himself, in this work, of no hands besides 
 his own, unless those of artisans, or parties of the same 
 kind, whom he could pay, and whom the hope of gain 
 ( a means of great efficacy ) might stimulate to accuracy 
 in the performance of what was prescribed to them. 
 For as to those who, through curiosity or a desire of 
 learning, of their own accord, perhaps, offer him their 
 services, besides that in general their promises exceed 
 their performance, and that they sketch out fine designs 
 
300 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 of which not one is ever realized, they will, without doubt, 
 expect to be compensated for their trouble by the expli- 
 cation of some difficulties, or, at least, by compliments 
 and useless speeches, in which he cannot spend any por- 
 tion of his time without loss to himself. And as for the 
 experiments that others have already made, even although 
 these parties should be willing of themselves to com- 
 municate them to him (which is what those who esteem 
 them secrets will never do), the experiments are, for the 
 most part, accompanied with so many circumstances and 
 superfluous elements, as to make it exceedingly difficult 
 to disentangle the truth from its adjuncts; besides, he 
 will find almost all of them so ill described, or even so 
 false ( because those who made them have wished to see 
 in them only such facts as they deemed comformable to 
 their principles), that, if in the entire number there 
 should be some of a nature suited to his purpose, still 
 their value could not compensate for the time that would 
 be necessary to make the selection. So that if there 
 existed anyone whom we assuredly knew to be capable of 
 making discoveries of the highest kind, and of the great- 
 est possible utility to the public; and if all other men 
 were therefore eager by all means to assist him in suc- 
 cessfully prosecuting his designs, I do not see that they 
 could do aught else for him beyond contributing to defray 
 the expenses of the experiments that might be necessary; 
 and for the rest, prevent his being deprived of his leisure 
 by the unseasonable interruptions of anyone. But be- 
 sides that I neither have so high an opinion of myself 
 as to be willing to make promise of anything extraor- 
 dinary, nor feed on imaginations so vain as to fancy that 
 the public must be much interested in my designs; I do 
 not, on the other hand, own a soul so mean as to be 
 capable of accepting from anyone a favor of which it 
 could be supposed that I was unworthy. 
 
 These considerations taken together were the reason 
 why, for the last three years, I have been unwilling to 
 publish the Treatise I had on hand, and why I even re- 
 solved to give publicity during my life to no other that 
 was so general, or by which the principles of my Physics 
 might be understood. But since then, two other reasons 
 have come into operation that have determined me here 
 to subjoin some particular specimens, and give the pub- 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 201 
 
 lie some account of my doings and designs. Of these 
 considerations, the first is, that if I failed to do so, many 
 who were cognizant of my previous intention to publish 
 some writings, might have imagined that the reasons 
 which induced me to refrain from so doing, were less to 
 my credit than they really are; for although I am not 
 immoderately desirous of glory, or even, if I may ven- 
 ture so to say, although I am averse from it in so far as 
 I deem it hostile to repose which I hold in greater ac- 
 count than aught else, yet, at the same time, I have 
 never sought to conceal my actions as if they were 
 crimes, nor made use of many precautions that I might 
 remain unknown; and this partly because I should have 
 thought such a course of conduct a wrong against my- 
 self, and partly because it would have occasioned me 
 some sort of uneasiness which would again have been 
 contrary to the perfect mental tranquillity which I court. 
 And forasmuch as, while thus indifferent to the thought 
 alike of fame or forgetfulness, I have yet been unable to 
 prevent myself from acquiring some sort of reputation, I 
 have thought it incumbent on me to do my best to save 
 myself at least from being ill-spoken of. The other rea- 
 son that has determined me to commit to writing these 
 specimens of philosophy is, that I am becoming daily 
 more and more alive to the delay which my design of 
 self-instruction suffers, for want of the infinity of ex- 
 periments I require, and which it is impossible for me 
 to make without the assistance of others: and, without 
 flattering myself so much as to expect the public to take 
 a large share in my interests, I am yet unwilling to be 
 found so far wanting in the duty I owe to myself, as to 
 give occasion to those who shall survive me to make it 
 matter of reproach against me some day, that I might 
 have left them many things in a much more perfect state 
 than I had done, had I not too much neglected to make 
 them aware of the ways in which they could have pro- 
 moted the accomplishment of my designs. 
 
 And I thought that it was easy for me to select some mat- 
 ters which should neither be obnoxious to much contro- 
 versy, nor should compel me to expound more of my 
 principles than I desired, and which should yet be suffi- 
 cient clearly to exhibit what I can or cannot accomplish 
 in the Sciences. Whether or not I have succeeded in 
 
202 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 this it is not for me to say; and I do not wish to fore- 
 stall the judgments of others by speaking myself of my 
 writings; but it will gratify me if they be examined, 
 and, to afford the greater inducement to this, I request 
 all who may have any objections to make to them, to take 
 the trouble of forwarding these to my publisher, who 
 will give me notice of them, that I may endeavor to sub- 
 join at the same time my reply; and in this way readers 
 seeing both at once will more easily determine where the 
 truth lies: for I do not engage in any case to make 
 prolix replies, but only with perfect frankness to avow 
 my errors if I am convinced of them, or if I cannot per- 
 ceive them, simply to state what I think is required for 
 defense of the matters I have written, adding thereto no 
 explication of any new matter that it may not be neces- 
 sary to pass without end from one thing to another. 
 
 If some of the matters of which I have spoken in the 
 beginning of the Dioptrics and Meteorics should offend 
 at first sight, because I call them hypotheses and seem 
 indifferent about giving proof of them, I request a 
 patient and attentive reading of the whole, from which 
 I hope those hesitating will derive satisfaction; for it 
 appears to me that the reasonings are so mutually con- 
 nected in these Treatises, that, as the last are demon- 
 strated by the first which are their causes, the first are 
 in their turn demonstrated by the last which are their 
 effects. Nor must it be imagined that I here commit 
 the fallacy which the logicians call a circle; for since 
 experience renders the majority of these effects most 
 certain, the causes from which I deduce them do not 
 serve so much to establish their reality as to explain 
 their existence ; but on the contrary, the reality of the 
 causes is established by the reality of the effects. Nor 
 have I called them hypotheses with any other end in 
 view except that it may be known that I think I am 
 able to deduce them from those first truths which I 
 have already expounded; and yet that I have expressly 
 determined not to do so, to prevent a certain class of 
 minds from thence taking occasion to build some ex- 
 travagant Philosophy upon what they may take to be 
 my principles, and my being blamed for it. I refer U. 
 those who imagine that they can master in a day all 
 that another has taken twenty years to think out, as 
 
ON METHOD 
 
 203 
 
 soon as he has spoken two or three words to them on 
 the subject; or who are the more liable to error and the 
 less capable of perceiving truth in very proportion as 
 they are more subtle and lively. As to the opinions 
 which are truly and wholly mine, I offer no apology for 
 them as new, persuaded as I am that if their reasons be 
 well considered they will be found to be so simple and 
 so conformed to common sense as to appear less extraor- 
 dinary and less paradoxical than any others which can 
 be held on the same subjects; nor do I even boast of being 
 the earliest discoverer of any of them, but only of hav- 
 ing adopted them, neither because they had nor because 
 they had not been held by others, but solely because 
 Reason has convinced me of their truth. 
 
 Though artisans may not be able at once to execute 
 the invention which is explained in the Dioptrics, I do 
 not think that any one on that account is entitled to 
 condemn it; for since address and practice are required 
 in order so to make and adjust the machines described 
 by me as not to overlook the smallest particular, I 
 should not be less astonished if they succeeded on the 
 first attempt than if a person were in one day to become 
 an accomplished performer on the guitar, by merely 
 having excellent sheets of music set up before him. And 
 if I write in French, which is the language of my coun- 
 try, in preference to Latin, which is that of my precep- 
 tors, it is because I expect that those who make use 
 of their unprejudiced natural Reason will be better 
 judges of my opinions than those who give heed to the 
 writings of the ancients only; and as for those who unite 
 good sense with habits of study, whom alone I desire for 
 judges, they will not, I feel assured, be so partial to 
 Latin as to refuse to listen to my reasonings merely 
 because I expound them in the vulgar Tongue. 
 
 In conclusion, I am unwilling here to say anything 
 very specific of the progress which I expect to make for 
 the future in the Sciences, or to bind myself to the public 
 by any promise which I am not certain of being able to 
 fulfil; but this only will I say, that I have resolved to 
 devote what time I may still have to live to no other 
 occupation than that of endeavoring to acquire some 
 knowledge of Nature, which shall be of such a kind as 
 to enable us therefrom to deduce rules in Medicine of 
 
204 
 
 DISCOURSE ON METHOD 
 
 greater certainty than those at present in use; and that 
 my inclination is so much opposed to all other pursuits, 
 especially to such as cannot be useful to some without 
 being hurtful to others, that if, by any circumstances, I 
 had been constrained to engage in such, I do not believe 
 that I should have been able to succeed. Of this I here 
 make a public declaration, though well aware that it can- 
 not serve to procure for me any consideration in the 
 world, which, however, I do not in the least affect; and 
 I shall always hold myself more obliged to those through 
 whose favor I am permitted to enjoy my retirement 
 without interruption than to any who might offer me the 
 highest earthly preferments. 
 
THE MEDITATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN AND COLLATED 
 WITH THE FRENCH 
 
TO 
 
 THE VERY SAGE AND ILLUSTRIOUS 
 
 THE 
 
 DEAN AND DOCTORS OF THE SACRED 
 FACULTY OF THEOLOGY OF PARIS. 
 
 Gentlemen: — 
 
 The motive which impels me to present this Treatise to 
 you is so reasonable, and when you shall learn its design. 
 I am confident that you also will consider that there is 
 ground so valid for your taking it under your protection, 
 that I can in no way better recommend it to you than by 
 briefly stating the end which I proposed to myself in it. 
 I have always been of opinion that the two questions re- 
 specting God and the Soul, were the chief of those that 
 ought to be determined by help of Philosophy rather than 
 of Theology; for although to us, the faithful, it be suffi- 
 cient to hold as matters of faith, that the human soul does 
 not perish with the body, and that God exists, it yet 
 assuredly seems impossible ever to persuade infidels of the 
 reality of any religion, or almost even any moral virtue, 
 unless, first of all, those two things be proved to them by 
 natural reason. And since in this life there are frequently 
 greater rewards held out to vice than to virtue, few would 
 prefer the right to the useful, if they were restrained 
 neither by the fear of God nor the expectation of another 
 life; and although it is quite true that the existence of 
 God is to be believed since it is taught in the sacred 
 Scriptures, and that, on the other hand, the sacred Scrip- 
 tures are to be believed because they come from God (for 
 since faith is a gift of God, the same Being who bestows 
 grace to enable us to believe other things, can likewise 
 impart of it to enable us to believe his own existence), 
 (206) 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 207 
 
 nevertheless, this cannot be submitted to infidels, who 
 would consider that the reasoning proceeded in a circle. 
 And, indeed, I have observed that you, with all the other 
 theologians, not only affirmed the sufficiency of natural 
 reason for the proof of the existence of God, but also, that 
 it may be inferred from sacred Scripture, that the knowl- 
 edge of God is much clearer than of many created things, 
 and that it is really so easy of acquisition as to leave those 
 who do not possess it blame-worthy. This is manifest 
 from these words of the Book of Wisdom, chap, xiii., where 
 it is said, Howbeit they are not to be excused; for if 
 
 THEIR UNDERSTANDING WAS SO GREAT THAT THEY COULD 
 DISCERN THE WORLD AND THE CREATURES, WHY DID THEY 
 
 not rather find out the Lord thereof ? And in Ro- 
 mans, chap, i., it is said that they are without excuse; and 
 again, in the same place, by these words, That which may 
 be known of God is manifest in them — we seem to be 
 admonished that all which can be known of God may be 
 made manifest by reasons obtained from no other source 
 than the inspection of our own minds. I have, therefore, 
 thought that it would not be unbecoming in me to inquire 
 how and by what way, without going out of ourselves, 
 God may be more easily and certainly known than the 
 things of the world. 
 
 And as regards the Soul, although many have judged 
 that its nature could not be easily discovered, and some 
 have even ventured to say that human reason led to the 
 conclusion that it perished with the body, and that the 
 contrary opinion could be held through faith alone ; never- 
 theless, since the Lateran Council, held under Leo X. (in 
 session viii.), condemns these, and expressly enjoins Chris- 
 tian philosophers to refute their arguments, and establish 
 the truth according to their ability, I have ventured to 
 attempt it in this work. Moreover, I am aware that most 
 of the irreligious deny the existence of God, and the 
 distinctness of the human soul from the body, for no 
 other reason than because these points, as they allege, 
 have never as yet been demonstrated. Now, although I 
 am by no means of their opinion, but, on the contrary, 
 hold that almost all the proofs which have been adduced 
 on these questions by great men, possess, when rightly 
 understood, the force of demonstrations, and that it is 
 next to impossible to discover new, yet there is, I 
 
208 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 apprehend, no more useful service to be performed in 
 Philosophy, than if some one were, once for all, carefully 
 to seek out the best of these reasons, and expound them 
 so accurately and clearly that, for the future, it might 
 be manifest to all that they are real demonstrations. 
 And finally, since many persons were greatly desirous of 
 this, who knew that I had cultivated a certain Method 
 of resolving all kinds of difficulties in the sciences, which 
 is not indeed new (there being nothing older than truth), 
 but of which they were aware I had made successful use 
 in other instances, I judged it to be my duty to make 
 trial of it also on the present matter. 
 
 Now the sum of what I have been able to accomplish 
 on the subject is contained in this Treatise. Not that I 
 here essayed to collect all the diverse reasons which 
 might be adduced as proofs on this subject, for this does 
 not seem to be necessary, unless on matters where no 
 one proof of adequate certainty is to be had ; but I 
 treated the first and chief alone in such a manner that I 
 should venture now to propose them as demonstrations of 
 the highest certainty and evidence. And I will also add 
 that they are such as to lead me to think that there is 
 no way open to the mind of man by which proofs supe- 
 rior to them can ever be discovered ; for the importance of 
 the subject, and the glory of God, to which all this re- 
 lates, constrain me to speak here somewhat more freely 
 of myself than I have been accustomed to do. Never- 
 theless, whatever certitude and evidence I may find in 
 these demonstrations, I cannot therefore persuade myself 
 that they are level to the comprehension of all. But just 
 fcs in geometry there are many of the demonstrations of 
 Archimedes, Apollonius, Pappus, and others, which, 
 though received by all as evident even and certain (be- 
 cause indeed they manifestly contain nothing which, con- 
 sidered by itself, it is not very easy to understand, and 
 no consequents that are inaccurately related to their ante- 
 cedents), are nevertheless understood by a very limited 
 number, because they are somewhat long, and demand 
 the whole attention of the reader: so in the same way, 
 although I consider the demonstrations of which I here 
 make use, to be equal or even superior to the geometrical 
 in certitude and evidence, I am afraid, nevertheless, that 
 they will not be adequately understood by many, as well 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 209 
 
 because they also are somewhat long and involved, as 
 chiefly because they require the mind to be entirely free 
 from prejudice, and able with ease to detach itself from 
 the commerce of the senses. And, to speak the truth, 
 the ability for metaphysical studies is less general than 
 for those of geometry. And, besides, there is still this 
 difference that, as in geometry, all are persuaded that 
 nothing is usually advanced of which there is not a cer- 
 tain demonstration, those but partially versed in it err 
 more frequently in assenting to what is false, from a 
 desire of seeming to understand it, than in denying what 
 is true. In philosophy, on the other hand, where it is 
 believed that all is doubtful, few sincerely give them- 
 selves to the search after truth, and by far the greater 
 number seek the reputation of bold thinkers by au- 
 daciously impugning such truths as are of the greatest 
 moment. 
 
 Hence it is that, whatever force my reasonings may pos- 
 sess, yet because they belong to philosophy, I do not expect 
 they will have much effect on the minds of men, unless 
 you extend to them your patronage and approval. But 
 since your Faculty is held in so great esteem by all, 
 and since the name of Sorbonne is of such authority, 
 that not only in matters of faith, but even also in what 
 regards human philosophy, has the judgment of no other 
 society, after the Sacred Councils, received so great defer- 
 ence, it being the universal conviction that it is impos- 
 sible elsewhere to find greater perspicacity and solidity, 
 or greater wisdom and integrity in giving judgment, I 
 doubt not, if you but condescend to pay so much regard to 
 this Treatise as to be willing, in the first place, to correct 
 it ( for mindful not only of my humanity, but chiefly also 
 of my ignorance, I do not affirm that it is free from 
 errors) ; in the second place, to supply what is wanting 
 in it, to perfect what is incomplete, and to give more 
 ample illustration where it is demanded, or at least to 
 indicate these defects to myself that I may endeavor to 
 remedy them ; and, finally, when the reasonings contained 
 in it, by which the existence of God and the distinction 
 of the human soul from the body are established, shall 
 have been brought to such degree of perspicuity as to 
 be esteemed exact demonstrations, of which I am assured 
 they admit, if you condescend to accord them the authority 
 14 
 
210 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 of your approbation, and render a public testimony of 
 tbeir truth and certainty, I doubt not, I say, but that 
 henceforward all the errors which have ever been enter- 
 tained on these questions will very soon be effaced from 
 the minds of men. For truth itself will readily lead the 
 remainder of the ingenious and the learned to subscribe 
 to your judgment; and your authority will cause the 
 atheists, who are in general sciolists rather than ingenious 
 or learned, to lay aside the spirit of contradiction, and 
 lead them, perhaps, to do battle in their own persons for 
 reasonings which they find considered demonstrations by 
 all men of genius, lest they should seem not to understand 
 them; and, finally, the rest of mankind will readily trust 
 to so many testimonies, and there will no longer be 
 any one who will venture to doubt either the existence of 
 God or the real distinction of mind and body. It is for 
 you, in your singular wisdom, to judge of the importance 
 of the establishment of such beliefs, [who are cognizant 
 of the disorders which doubt of these truths produces].* 
 But it would not here become me to commend at greater 
 length the cause of God and of religion to you, who have 
 always proved the strongest support of the Catholic 
 Church. 
 
 * The square brackets, here and throughout the volume, are used 
 to mark additions to the original of the revised French translation. 
 
PREFACE TO THE READER. 
 
 I have already slightly touched upon the questions 
 respecting the existence of God and the nature of the 
 human soul, in the <( Discourse on the Method of rightly 
 conducting the Reason, and seeking Truth in the Sci- 
 ences,” published in French in the year 1637; not how- 
 ever, with the design of there treating of them fully, 
 but only, as it were, in passing, that I might learn from 
 the judgment of my readers in what way I should after- 
 ward handle them; for these questions appeared to me 
 to be of such moment as to be worthy of being considered 
 more than once, and the path which I follow in discuss- 
 ing them is so little trodden, and so remote from the 
 ordinary route that I thought it would not be expedient 
 to illustrate it at greater length in French, and in a dis- 
 course that might be read by all, lest even the more 
 feeble minds should believe that this path might be en- 
 tered upon by them. 
 
 But, as in the <( Discourse on Method, ” I had requested 
 all who might find aught meriting censure in my writ- 
 ings, to do me the favor of pointing it out to me, I may 
 state that no objections worthy of remark have been al- 
 leged against what I then said on these questions except 
 two, to which I will here briefly reply, before undertaking 
 their more detailed discussion. 
 
 The first objection is that though, while the human 
 mind reflects on itself, it does not perceive that it is any 
 other than a thinking thing, it does not follow that its 
 nature or essence consists only in its being a thing which 
 thinks; so that the word only shall exclude all other 
 things which might also perhaps be said to pertain to the 
 nature of the mind. 
 
 To this objection I reply, that it was not my intention 
 in that place to exclude these according to the order of 
 
 (211) 
 
212 
 
 PREFACE TO THE READER 
 
 truth in the matter (of which I did not then treat), but 
 only according to the order of thought (perception); 
 so that my meaning was, that I clearly apprehended 
 nothing, so far as I was conscious, as belonging to my 
 essence, except that I was a thinking thing, or a thing 
 possessing in itself the faculty of thinking. But I will 
 show hereafter how, from the consciousness that nothing 
 besides thinking belongs to the essence of the mind, it 
 follows that nothing else does in truth belong to it. 
 
 The second objection is that it does not follow, from 
 my possessing the idea of a thing more perfect than I 
 am, that the idea itself is more perfect than myself, and 
 much less that what is represented by the idea exists. 
 
 But I reply that in the term idea there is here some- 
 thing equivocal; for it may be taken either materially 
 for an act of the understanding, and in this sense it can- 
 not be said to be more perfect than I, or objectively, for 
 the thing represented by that act, which, although it be 
 not supposed to exist out of my understanding, may, 
 nevertheless, be more perfect than myself, by reason of 
 its essence. But, in the sequel of this treatise I will 
 show more amply how, from my possessing the idea of a 
 thing more perfect than myself, it follows that this thing 
 really exists. 
 
 Besides these two objections, I have seen, indeed, two 
 treatises of sufficient length relating to the present matter. 
 In these, however, my conclusions, much more than my 
 premises, were impugned, and that by arguments borrowed 
 from the common places of the atheists. But, as argu- 
 ments of this sort can make no impression on the minds 
 of those who shall rightly understand my reasonings, and 
 as the judgments of many are so irrational and weak that 
 they are persuaded rather by the opinions on a subject 
 that are first presented to them, however false and opposed 
 to reason they may be, than by a true and solid, but 
 subsequently received, refutation of them, I am unwilling 
 here to reply to these strictures from a dread of being, 
 in the first instance, obliged to state them. 
 
 I will only say, in general, that all which the atheists 
 commonly allege in favor of the non-existence of God, 
 arises continually from one or other of these two things, 
 namely, either the ascription of human affections to Deity, 
 
PREFACE TO THE READER 
 
 213 
 
 or the undue attribution to our minds of so much vigor 
 and wisdom that we may essay to determine and compre- 
 hend both what God can and ought to do; hence all that 
 is alleged by them will occasion us no difficulty, provided 
 only we keep in remembrance that our minds must be 
 considered finite, while Deity is incomprehensible and 
 infinite. 
 
 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 com- 
 mendation from the crowd for my endeavors, 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 them- 
 selves from all prejudice; and individuals of this char- 
 acter are, 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 oppor- 
 tunity for cavilling in several places, they will yet hardly 
 start any pressing objections, or such as shall be deserv- 
 ing of reply. 
 
 But since, indeed, I do not promise to satisfy others 
 on all these subjects at first sight, nor arrogate so much 
 to myself as to believe that I have been able to forsee 
 all that may be the source of difficulty to each one, I 
 shall expound, first of all, in the Meditations, those 
 considerations by which I feel persuaded that I have 
 arrived at a certain and evident knowledge of truth, in 
 order that I may ascertain whether the reasonings which 
 have prevailed with myself will also be effectual in con- 
 vincing others. I will then reply to the objections of 
 some men, illustrious for their genius and learning, to 
 whom these Meditations were sent for criticism before 
 they were committed to the press; for these objections 
 are so numerous and varied that I venture to anticipate 
 
214 
 
 PREFACE TO THE READER 
 
 that nothing, at least nothing of any moment, will read- 
 ily occur to any mind which has not been touched upon 
 in them. 
 
 Hence it is that I earnestly entreat my readers not to 
 come to any judgment on the questions raised in the 
 Meditations until they have taken care to read the whole 
 of the Objections, with the relative Replies. 
 
SYNOPSIS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SIX FOLLOWING MEDITATIONS. 
 
 In the First Meditation I expound the grounds on 
 which we may doubt in general of all things, and es- 
 pecially of material objects, so long at least, as we have 
 no other foundations for the sciences than those we have 
 hitherto possessed. Now, although the utility of a doubt 
 so general may not be manifest at first sight, it is never- 
 theless of the greatest, since it delivers us from all 
 prejudice, and affords the easiest pathway by which the 
 mind may withdraw itself from the senses; and finally 
 makes it impossible for us to doubt wherever we after- 
 ward discover truth. 
 
 In the Second, the mind which, in the exercise of the 
 freedom peculiar to itself, supposes that no object is, of 
 the existence of which it has even the slightest doubt, 
 finds that, meanwhile, it must itself exist. And this 
 point is likewise of the highest moment, for the mind is 
 thus enabled easily to distinguish what pertains to itself, 
 that is, to the intellectual nature, from what is to be re- 
 ferred to the body. But since some, perhaps, will ex- 
 pect, at this stage of our progress, a statement of the 
 reasons which establish the doctrine of the immortality 
 of the soul, I think it proper here to make such aware, 
 that it was my aim to write nothing of which I could 
 not give exact demonstration, and that I therefore felt 
 myself obliged to adopt an order similar to that in use 
 among the geometers, viz, to premise all upon which 
 the proposition in question depends, before coming to 
 any conclusion respecting it. Now, the first and chief 
 prerequisite for the knowledge of the immortality of the 
 soul is our being able to form the clearest possible con- 
 
 (215) 
 
2l6 
 
 SYNOPSIS OF THE SIX 
 
 ception {conceptus — concept) of the soul itself, and such 
 as shall be absolutely distinct from all our notions of 
 body; and how this is to be accomplished is there 
 shown. There is required, besides this, the assurance 
 that all objects which we clearly and distinctly think are 
 true (really exist) in that very mode in which we think 
 them; and this could not be established previously to 
 the Fourth Meditation. Farther, it is necessary, for the 
 same purpose, that we possess a distinct conception of 
 corporeal nature, which is given partly in the Second and 
 partly in the Fifth and Sixth Meditations. And, finally, 
 on these grounds, we are necessitated to conclude, that 
 all those objects which are clearly and distinctly con- 
 ceived to be diverse substances, as mind and body, are 
 substances really reciprocally distinct; and this inference 
 is made in the Sixth Meditation. The absolute distinc- 
 tion of mind and body is, besides, confirmed in this Sec- 
 ond Meditation, by showing that we cannot conceive 
 body unless as divisible ; while, on the other hand, mind 
 cannot be conceived unless as indivisible. For we are 
 not able to conceive the half of a mind, as we can of 
 any body, however small, so that the natures of these 
 two substances are to be held, not only as diverse, but 
 even in some measure as contraries. I have not, how- 
 ever, pursued this discussion further in the present trea- 
 tise, as well for the reason that these considerations are 
 sufficient to show that the destruction of the mind does 
 not follow from the corruption of the body, and thus to 
 afford to men the hope of a future life, as also because 
 the premises from which it is competent for us to in- 
 fer the immortality of the soul, involve an explication 
 of the whole principles of Physics : in order to establish, in 
 the first place, that generally all substances, that is, all 
 things which can exist only in consequence of having been 
 created by God, are in their own nature incorruptible, 
 and can never cease to be, unless God himself, by re- 
 fusing his concurrence to them, reduce them to nothing; 
 and, in the second place, that body, taken generally, is 
 a substance, and therefore can never perish, but that 
 the human body, in as far as it differs from other bodies, 
 is constituted only by a certain configuration of members, 
 and by other accidents of this sort, while the human 
 
FOLLOWING MEDITATIONS 
 
 217 
 
 mind is not made up of accidents, but is a pure sub- 
 stance. For although all the accidents of the mind be 
 changed — although, for example, it think certain things, 
 will others, and perceive others, the mind itself does not 
 vary with these changes; while, on the contrary, the hu- 
 man body is no longer the same if a change take place 
 in the form of any of its parts: from which it follows 
 that the body may, indeed, without difficulty perish, but 
 that the mind is in its own nature immortal. 
 
 In the Third Meditation, I have unfolded at sufficient 
 length, as appears to me, my chief argument for the 
 existence of God. But yet, since I was there desirous to 
 avoid the use of comparisons taken from material objects, 
 that I might withdraw, as far as possible, the minds of 
 my readers from the senses, numerous obscurities perhaps 
 remain, which, however, will, I trust, be afterward entirely 
 removed in the Replies to the Objections: thus among 
 other things, it may be difficult to understand how the 
 idea of a being absolutely perfect, which is found in our 
 minds, possesses so much objective reality [2. e . , partici- 
 pates by representation in so many degrees of being and 
 perfection] that it must be held to arise from a cause 
 absolutely perfect. This is illustrated in the Replies by 
 the comparison of a highly perfect machine, the idea of 
 which exists in the mind of some workman; for as the 
 objective (i.e., representative) perfection of this idea must 
 have some cause, viz, either the science of the workman, 
 or of some other person from whom he has received the 
 idea, in the same way the idea of God, which is found in 
 us, demands God himself for its cause. 
 
 In the Fourth, it is shown that all which we clearly 
 and distinctly perceive (apprehend) is true; and, at the 
 same time, is explained wherein consists the nature of 
 error, points that require to be known as well for con- 
 firming the preceding truths, as for the better under- 
 standing of those that are to follow. But, meanwhile, it 
 must be observed, that I do not at all there treat of Sin, 
 that is, of error committed in the pursuit of good and 
 evil, but of that sort alone which arises in the determina- 
 tion of the true and the false. Nor do I refer to matters 
 of faith, or to the conduct of life, but only to what re- 
 gards speculative truths, and such as are known by means 
 of the natural light alone. 
 
2 1 8 
 
 SYNOPSIS OF THE MEDITATIONS 
 
 In the Fifth, besides the illustration of corporeal nature, 
 taken generically, a new demonstration is given of the 
 existence of God, not free, perhaps, any more than the 
 former, from certain difficulties, but of these the solution 
 will be found in the Replies to the Objections. I further 
 show, in what sense it is true that the certitude of geo- 
 metrical demonstrations themselves is dependent on the 
 knowledge of God. 
 
 Finally, in the Sixth, the act of the understanding 
 ( intellectio ) is distinguished from that of the imagination 
 ( imaginatio ) ; the marks of this distinction are described ; 
 the human mind is shown to be really distinct from the 
 body, and, nevertheless, to be so closely conjoined there- 
 with, as together to form, as it were, a unity. The whole 
 of the errors which arise from the senses are brought 
 under review, while the means of avoiding them are 
 pointed out; and, finally, all the grounds are adduced from 
 which the existence of material objects may be inferred; 
 not, however, because I deemed them of great utility in 
 establishing what they prove, viz, that there is in reality 
 a world, that men are possessed of bodies, and the like, 
 the truth of which no one of sound mind ever seriously 
 doubted ; but because, from a close consideration of them, 
 it is perceived that they are neither so strong nor clear as 
 the reasonings which conduct us to the knowledge of our 
 mind and of God; so that the latter are, of all which come 
 under human knowledge, the most certain and manifest — 
 a conclusion which it was my single aim in these Medita- 
 tions to establish ; on which account I here omit mention 
 of the various other questions which, in the course of the 
 discussion, I had occasion likewise to consider. 
 
MEDITATIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE FIRST PHILOSOPHY 
 
 IN WHICH 
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD, AND THE REAL DISTINCTION 
 OF MIND AND BODY, ARE DEMONSTRATED. 
 
 MEDITATION I. 
 
 Of the Things on Which We May Doubt. 
 
 Several years have now elapsed since I first became 
 aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many 
 false opinions for true, and that consequently what I aft- 
 erward based on such principles was highly doubtful; 
 and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of 
 undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the 
 opinions I had adopted, and of commencing anew the 
 work of building from the foundation, if I desired to 
 establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. 
 But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great 
 magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so ma- 
 ture as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life 
 more advanced I should be better able to execute my de- 
 sign. On this account, I have delayed so long that I 
 should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I 
 still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now 
 remains for action. To-day, then, since I have oppor- 
 tunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily 
 disturbed by no passions], and since I am in the secure 
 possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at 
 length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general 
 
 (219) 
 
220 
 
 MEDITATION I 
 
 overthrow of all my former opinions. But, to this end, 
 it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of 
 these are false — a point, perhaps, which I shall never 
 reach; but as even now my reason convinces me that I 
 ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what 
 is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what 
 is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the re- 
 jection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground 
 for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even 
 to deal with each belief individually, which would be 
 truly an endless labor; but, as the removal from below 
 of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the 
 whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of 
 the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 
 
 All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as pos- 
 sessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received 
 either from or through the senses. I observed, how- 
 ever, that these sometimes misled us; and it is the part 
 of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by 
 which we have even once been deceived. 
 
 But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses 
 occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and 
 such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the 
 reach of close observation, there are yet many other of 
 their informations (presentations), of the truth of which 
 it is manifestly impossible to doubt; as for example, 
 that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a 
 winter dressing gown, that I hold in my hands this piece 
 of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. 
 But how could I deny that I possess these hands and 
 this body, and withal escape being classed with persons 
 in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered 
 and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them 
 pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when 
 they are in the greatest poverty ; or clothed [ in gold ] 
 and purple when destitute of any covering; or that their 
 head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they 
 are gourds ? I should certainly be not less insane than 
 they, were I to regulate my procedure according to 
 examples so extravagant. 
 
 Though this be true, I must nevertheless here consider 
 that I am a man, and that, consequently, I am in the 
 habit of sleeping, and representing to myself in dreams 
 
OF THINGS ON WHICH WE MAY DOUBT 221 
 
 those same things, or even sometimes others less proba- 
 ble, which the insane think are presented to them in 
 their waking moments. How often have I dreamt that 
 I was in these familiar circumstances, that I was dressed, 
 and occupied this place by the fire, when I was lying 
 undressed in bed ? At the present moment, however, I 
 certainly look upon this paper with eyes wide awake; 
 the head which I now move is not asleep; I extend this 
 hand consciously and with express purpose, and I per- 
 ceive it; the occurrences in sleep are not so distinct as 
 all this. But I cannot forget that, at other times I have 
 been deceived in sleep by similar illusions; and, atten- 
 tively considering those cases, I perceive so clearly that 
 there exist no certain marks by which the state of wak- 
 ing can ever be distinguished from sleep, that I feel 
 greatly astonished; and in amazement I almost persuade 
 myself that I am now dreaming. 
 
 Let us suppose, then, that we are dreaming, and that all 
 these particulars — namely, the opening of the eyes, the 
 motion of the head, the forth-putting of the hands — are 
 merely illusions; and even that we really possess neither 
 an entire body nor hands such as we see. Nevertheless 
 it must be admitted at least that the objects which appear 
 to us in sleep are, as it were, painted representations 
 which could not have been formed unless in the likeness 
 of realities; and, therefore, that those general objects, at 
 all events, namely, eyes, a head, hands, and an entire 
 body, are not simply imaginary, but really existent. For, 
 in truth, painters themselves, even when they study to 
 represent sirens and satyrs by forms the most fantastic 
 and extraordinary, cannot bestow upon them natures 
 absolutely new, but can only make a certain medley of 
 the members of different animals; or if they chance to 
 imagine something so novel that nothing at all similar 
 has ever been seen before, and such as is, therefore, 
 purely fictitious and absolutely false, it is at least certain 
 that the colors of which this is composed are real. 
 
 And on the same principle, although these general 
 objects, viz, [a body], eyes, a head, hands, and the like, 
 be imaginary, we are nevertheless absolutely necessitated 
 to admit the reality at least of some other objects still 
 more simple and universal than these, of which, just as 
 of certain real colors, all those images of things, whether 
 
222 
 
 MEDITATION I 
 
 true and real, or false and fantastic, that are found in our 
 consciousness ( cogitatio ), are formed. 
 
 To this class of objects seem to belong corporeal nature 
 in general and its extension; the figure of extended things, 
 their quantity or magnitude, and their number, as also the 
 place in, and the time during, which they exist, and 
 other things of the same sort. We will not, there- 
 fore, perhaps reason illegitimately if we conclude from 
 this that Physics, Astronomy, Medicine, and all the other 
 sciences that have for their end the consideration of com- 
 posite objects, are indeed of a doubtful character; but 
 that Arithmetic, Geometry, and the other sciences of 
 the same class, which regard merely the simplest and 
 most general objects, and scarcely inquire whether or 
 not these are really existent, contain somewhat that 
 is certain and indubitable: for whether I am awake 
 
 or dreaming, it remains true that two and three make 
 five, and that a square has but four sides; nor does 
 it seem possible that truths so apparent can ever fall 
 under a suspicion of falsity [or incertitude]. 
 
 Nevertheless, the belief that there is a God who is 
 all powerful, and who created me, such as I am, has, 
 for a long time, obtained steady possession of my 
 mind. How, then, do I know that he has not arranged 
 that there should be neither earth, nor sky, nor any 
 extended thing, nor figure, nor magnitude, nor place, 
 providing at the same time, however, for [the rise in 
 me of the perceptions of all these objects, and] the 
 persuasion that these do not exist otherwise than as 
 I perceive them ? And further, as I sometimes think 
 that others are in error respecting matters of which 
 they believe themselves to possess a perfect knowledge, 
 how do I know that I am not also deceived each time 
 I add together two and three, or number the sides of 
 a square, or form some judgment still more simple, if 
 more simple indeed can be imagined ? But perhaps 
 Deity has not been willing that I should be thus de- 
 ceived, for he is said to be supremely good. If, 
 however, it were repugnant to the goodness of Deity 
 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 per- 
 
OF THINGS ON WHICH WE MAY DOUBT 
 
 223 
 
 haps 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 a Deity is fabulous: nevertheless, 
 in whatever way it be supposed that I reach 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, and that 
 not through thoughtlessness or levity, but from cogent 
 and maturely considered reasons ; so that henceforward, 
 if I desire to discover anything certain, I ought not the 
 less carefully to refrain from assenting to those same 
 opinions than to what might be shown to be mani- 
 festly false. 
 
 But it is not sufficient to have made these observations ; 
 care must be taken likewise to keep them in remem- 
 brance. For those old and customary opinions perpetually 
 recur — long and familiar usage giving them the right of 
 occupying my mind, even almost against my will, and 
 subduing my belief; nor will I lose the habit of deferring 
 to them and confiding in them so long as I shall con- 
 sider them to be what in truth they are, viz, opinions 
 to some extent doubtful, as I have already shown, but 
 still highly probable, and such as it is much more reason- 
 , able to believe than deny. It is for this reason I am 
 persuaded that I shall not be doing wrong, if, taking an 
 opposite judgment of deliberate design, I become my 
 own deceiver, by supposing, for a time, that all those 
 opinions are entirely false and imaginary, until at length, 
 having thus balanced my old by my new prejudices, my 
 judgment shall no longer be turned aside by perverted 
 usage from the path that may conduct to the perception 
 of truth. For I am assured that, meanwhile, there will 
 arise neither peril nor error from this course, and that I 
 
224 
 
 MEDITATION II 
 
 cannot for the present yield too much to distrust, since 
 the end I now seek is not action but knowledge. 
 
 I will suppose, then, not that Deity, who is sovereignly 
 good and the fountain of truth, but that some malignant 
 demon, who is at once exceedingly potent and deceitful, 
 has employed all his artifice to deceive me; I will sup- 
 pose that the sky, the air, the earth, colors, figures, 
 sounds, and all external things, are nothing better than 
 the illusions of dreams, by means of which this being has 
 laid snares for my credulity; I will consider myself as 
 without hands, eyes, flesh, blood, or any of the senses, 
 and as falsely believing that I am possessed of these; I 
 will continue resolutely fixed in this belief, and if indeed 
 by this means it be not in my power to arrive at the 
 knowledge of truth, I shall at least do what is in my 
 power, viz [suspend my judgment], and guard with 
 settled purpose against giving my assent to what is false, 
 and being imposed upon by this deceiver, whatever be 
 his power and artifice. 
 
 But this undertaking is arduous, and a certain indolence 
 insensibly leads me back to my ordinary course of life; 
 and just as the captive, who, perchance, was enjoying in 
 his dreams an imaginary liberty, when he begins to sus- 
 pect that it is but a vision, dreads awakening, and con- 
 spires with the agreeable illusions that the deception may 
 be prolonged; so I, of my own accord, fall back into the 
 train of my former beliefs, and fear to arouse myself 
 from my slumber, lest the time of laborious wakefulness 
 that would succeed this quiet rest, in place of bringing 
 any light of day, should prove inadequate to dispel the 
 darkness that will arise from the difficulties that have 
 now been raised. 
 
 MEDITATION II. 
 
 Of the Nature of the Human Mind; and that It is 
 More Easily Known than the Body. 
 
 The Meditation of yesterday has filled my mind with so 
 many doubts, that it is no longer in my power to forget 
 them. Nor do I see, meanwhile, any principle on which 
 they can be resolved; and, just as if I had fallen all of a 
 
OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND 
 
 225 
 
 sudden into very deep water, I am so greatly disconcerted 
 as to be unable either to plant my feet firmly on the 
 bottom or sustain myself by swimming on the surface. I 
 will, nevertheless, make an effort, and try anew the same 
 path on which I had entered yesterday, that is, proceed 
 by casting aside all that admits of the slightest doubt, not 
 less than if I had discovered it to be absolutely false ; and 
 I will continue always in this track until I shall find 
 something that is certain, or at least, if I can do nothing 
 more, until I shall know with certainty that there is 
 nothing certain. Archimedes, that he might transport the 
 entire globe from the place it occupied to another, de- 
 manded only a point that was firm and immovable; so, 
 also, I shall be entitled to entertain the highest expecta- 
 tions, if I am fortunate enough to discover only one thing 
 that is certain and indubitable. 
 
 I suppose, accordingly, that all the things which I see - 
 are false (fictitious) ; I believe that none of those objects 
 which my fallacious memory represents ever existed; I 
 suppose that I possess no senses; I believe that body, 
 figure, extension, motion, and place are merely fictions of 
 my mind. What is there, then, that can be esteemed 
 true ? Perhaps this only, that there is absolutely nothing 
 certain. 
 
 But how do I know that there is not something dif- 
 ferent altogether from the objects I have now enumerated, 
 of which it is impossible to entertain the slightest doubt ? 
 Is there not a God, or some being, by whatever name I 
 may designate him, who causes these thoughts to arise 
 in my mind ? But why suppose such a being, for it may 
 be I myself am capable of producing them ? Am I, 
 then, at least not something ? But I before denied that 
 I possessed senses or a body; I hesitate, however, for 
 what follows from that ? Am I so dependent on the 
 body and the senses that without these I cannot exist ? 
 But I had the persuasion that there was absolutely noth- 
 ing in the world, that there was no sky and no earth, 
 neither minds nor bodies; was I not, therefore, at the 
 same time, persuaded that I did not exist ? Far from 
 it ; I assuredly existed, since I was persuaded. But there 
 is I know not what being, who is possessed at once of 
 the highest power and the deepest cunning, who is con- 
 stantly employing all his ingenuity in deceiving me. 
 15 
 
226 
 
 MEDITATION II 
 
 Doubtless, then, I exist, since I am deceived; and, let 
 him deceive me as he may, he can never bring it about 
 that I am nothing, so long as I shall be conscious that 
 I am something. So that it must, in fine, be maintained, 
 all things being maturely and carefully considered, that 
 this proposition {pronunciation ) I am, I exist, is necessarily 
 true each time it is expressed by me, or conceived in my mind. 
 
 But I do not yet know with sufficient clearness what I 
 am, though assured that I am; and hence, in the next 
 place, I must take care, lest perchance I inconsiderately 
 substitute some other object in room of what is properly 
 myself, and thus wander from truth, even in that knowl- 
 edge ( cognition ) which I hold to be of all others the most 
 certain and evident. For this reason, I will now consider 
 anew what I formerly believed myself to be, before I 
 entered on the present train of thought; and of my pre- 
 vious opinion I will retrench all that can in the least be 
 invalidated by the grounds of doubt I have adduced, in 
 order that there may at length remain nothing but what 
 is certain and indubitable. What then did I formerly 
 think I was? Undoubtedly I judged that I was a man. 
 But what is a man ? Shall I say a rational animal ? As- 
 suredly not; for it would be necessary forthwith to in- 
 quire into what is meant by animal, and what by rational, 
 and thus, from a single question, I should insensibly 
 glide into others, and these more difficult than the first; 
 nor do I now possess enough of leisure to warrant me 
 in wasting my time amid subtleties of this sort. I prefer 
 here to attend to the thoughts that sprung up of them- 
 selves in my mind, and were inspired by my own nature 
 alone, when I applied myself to the consideration of what 
 I was. In the first place, then, I thought that I possessed 
 a countenance, hands, arms, and all the fabric of mem- 
 bers that appears in a corpse, and which I called by the 
 name of body. It further occurred to me that I was 
 nourished, that I walked, perceived, and thought, and all 
 those actions I referred to the soul; but what the soul 
 itself was I either did not stay to consider, or, if I did, I 
 imagined that it was something extremely rare and subtile, 
 like wind, or flame, or ether, spread through my grosser 
 parts. As regarded the body, I did not even doubt 
 of its nature, but thought I distinctly knew it, and if I 
 had wished to describe it according to the notions I then 
 
OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND 227 
 
 entertained, I should have explained myself in this man- 
 ner: By body I understand all that can be terminated by 
 a certain figure ; that can be comprised in a certain place, 
 and so fill a certain space as therefrom to exclude every 
 other body; that can be perceived either by touch, 
 sight, hearing, taste, or smell; that can be moved in 
 different ways, not indeed of itself, but by something 
 foreign to it by which it is touched [ and from which 
 it receives the impression ] ; for the power of self-motion, 
 as likewise that of perceiving and thinking, I held as 
 by no means pertaining to the nature of body; on the 
 contrary, I was somewhat astonished to find such fac- 
 ulties existing in some bodies. 
 
 But [as to myself, what can I now say that I am], since I 
 suppose there exists an extremely powerful, and, if I may 
 so speak, malignant being, whose whole endeavors are 
 directed toward deceiving me ? Can I affirm that I pos- 
 sess any one of all those attributes of which I have lately 
 spoken as belonging to the nature of body ? After 
 attentively considering them in my own mind, I find none 
 of them that can properly be said to belong to myself. 
 To recount them were idle and tedious. Let us pass, then, 
 to the attributes of the soul. The first mentioned were 
 the powers of nutrition and walking; but, if it be true 
 that I have no body, it is true likewise that I am capa- 
 ble neither of walking nor of being nourished. Percep- 
 tion is another attribute of the soul; but perception too 
 is impossible without the body ; besides, I have frequently, 
 during sleep, believed that I perceived objects which I 
 afterward observed I did not in reality perceive. Think- 
 ing is another attribute of the soul; and here I discover 
 what properly belongs to myself. This alone is insepa- 
 rable from me. I am — I exist: this is certain; but how 
 often ? As often as I think ; for perhaps it would even 
 happen, if I should wholly cease to think, that I should 
 at the same time altogether cease to be. I now admit 
 nothing that is not necessarily true. I am therefore, pre- 
 cisely speaking, only a thinking thing, that is, a mind 
 ( mens sive animus ), understanding, or reason, terms whose 
 signification was before unknown to me. I am, however, 
 a real thing, and really existent ; but what thing ? The 
 answer was, a thinking thing. The question now arises, 
 am I aught besides ? I will stimulate my imagination with 
 
228 
 
 MEDITATION II 
 
 a view to discover whether I am not still something more 
 than a thinking being. Now it is plain I am not the 
 assemblage of members called the human body ; I am not 
 a thin and penetrating air diffused through all these mem- 
 bers, or wind, or flame, or vapor, or breath, or any of 
 all the things I can imagine ; for I supposed that all these 
 were not, and, without changing the supposition, I find 
 that I still feel assured of my existence. 
 
 But it is true, perhaps, that those very things which 
 I suppose to be non-existent, because they are unknown 
 to me, are not in truth different from myself whom I 
 know. This is a point I cannot determine, and do not 
 now enter into any dispute regarding it. I can only 
 judge of things that are known to me: I am conscious 
 that I exist, and I who know that I exist inquire into 
 what I am. It is, however, perfectly certain that the 
 knowledge of my existence, thus precisely taken, is not 
 dependent on things, the existence of which is as yet 
 unknown to me: and consequently it is not dependent 
 on any of the things I can feign in imagination. More- 
 over, the phrase itself, I frame an image ( effingo ), 
 reminds me of my error; for I should in truth frame 
 one if I were to imagine myself to be anything, since to 
 imagine is nothing more than to contemplate the figure 
 or image of a corporeal thing; but I already know that 
 I exist, and that it is possible at the same time that all 
 those images, and in general all that relates to the 
 nature of body, are merely dreams [or chimeras]. From 
 this I discover that it is not more reasonable to say, I 
 will excite my imagination that I may know more dis- 
 tinctly what I am, than to express myself as follows: I 
 am now awake, and perceive something real ; but because 
 my preception is not sufficiently clear, I will of express 
 purpose go to sleep that my dreams may represent to 
 me the object of my perception with more truth and 
 clearness. And, therefore, I know that nothing of all 
 that I can embrace in imagination belongs to the knowl- 
 edge which I have of myself, and that there is need to 
 recall with the utmost care the mind from this mode of 
 thinking, that it may be able to know its own nature 
 with perfect distinctness. 
 
 But what, then, am I ? A thinking thing, it has been 
 said. But what is a thinking thing ? It is a thing that 
 
OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND 
 
 229 
 
 doubts, understands, [conceives], 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; who imagines many things, sometimes even 
 despite his will; and is likewise percipient of many, as if 
 j through the medium of the senses. Is there nothing of 
 all this as true as that I am, even although I should be 
 always dreaming, and although he who gave me being 
 employed all his ingenuity to deceive me? Is there also 
 any one of these attributes that can be properly distin- 
 guished from my thought, or that can be said to be 
 separate from myself ? For it is of itself so evident that 
 it is I who doubt, I who understand, and I who desire, 
 that it is here unnecessary to add anything by way of 
 rendering it more clear. And I am as certainly the same 
 being who imagines ; for although it may be (as I before 
 supposed) that nothing I imagine is true, still the power 
 of imagination does not cease really to exist in me and to 
 form part of my thought. In fine, I am the same being 
 who perceives, that is, who apprehends certain objects as 
 by the organs of sense, since, in truth, I see light, hear 
 a noise, and feel heat. But it will be said that these 
 presentations are false, and that I am dreaming. Let it 
 be so. At all events it is certain that I seem to see 
 light, hear a noise, and feel heat; this cannot be false, 
 and this is what in me is properly called perceiving 
 (sent ire), which is nothing else than thinking. From this 
 I begin to know what I am with somewhat greater clear- 
 ness and distinctness than heretofore. 
 
 But, nevertheless, it still seems to me, and I cannot 
 help believing, that corporeal things, whose images are 
 formed by thought [which fall under the senses], and 
 are examined by the same, are known with much greater 
 distinctness than that I know not what part of myself 
 which is not imaginable ; although, in truth, it may seem 
 strange to say that I know and comprehend with greater 
 distinctness things whose existence appears to me doubt- 
 ful, that are unknown, and do not belong to me, than 
 
230 
 
 MEDITATION II 
 
 others of whose reality I am persuaded, that are known 
 to me, and appertain to my proper nature; in a word, 
 than myself. But I see clearly what is the state of the 
 case. My mind is apt to wander, and will not yet sub- 
 mit to be restrained within the limits truth. Let us 
 therefore leave the mind to itself once more, and, accord- 
 ing to it every kind of liberty [permit it to consider the 
 objects that appear to it from without], in order that, 
 having afterward withdrawn it from these gently and 
 opportunely [ and fixed it on the consideration of its 
 being and the properties it finds in itself], it may then 
 be the more easily controlled. 
 
 Let us now accordingly consider the objects that are 
 commonly thought to be [the most easily, and likewise] 
 the most distinctly known, viz, the bodies we touch and 
 see; not, indeed, bodies in general, for these general 
 notions are usually somewhat more confused, but one 
 body in particular. Take, for example, this piece of wax; 
 it is quite fresh, having been but recently taken from 
 the beehive; it has not yet lost the sweetness of the 
 honey it contained; it still retains somewhat of the odor 
 of the flowers from which it was gathered; its color, fig- 
 ure, size, are apparent ( to the sight ) ; it is hard, cold, 
 easily handled; and sounds when struck upon with the 
 finger. In fine, all that contributes to make a body as 
 distinctly known as possible, is found in the one before 
 us. But, while I am speaking, let it be placed near the 
 fire — what remained of the taste exhales, the smell evap- 
 orates, the color changes, its figure is destroyed, its size 
 increases, it becomes liquid, it grows hot, it can hardly 
 be handled, and, although struck upon, it emits no sound. 
 Does the same wax still remain after this change ? It 
 must be admitted that it does remain; no one doubts it, 
 or judges otherwise. What, then, was it I knew with so 
 much distinctness in the piece of wax ? Assuredly, it 
 could be nothing of all that I observed by means of the 
 senses, since all the things that fell under taste, smell, 
 sight, touch, and hearing are changed, and yet the same 
 wax remains. It was perhaps what I now think, viz, 
 that this wax was neither the sweetness of honey, the 
 pleasant odor of flowers, the whiteness, the figure, nor 
 the sound, but only a body that a little before appeared 
 to me conspicuous under these forms, and which is now 
 
OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND 231 
 
 perceived under others. But, to speak precisely, what is 
 it that I imagine when I think of it in this way ? Let 
 it be attentively considered, and, retrenching all that does 
 not belong to the wax, let us see what remains. There 
 certainly remains nothing, except something extended, 
 flexible, and movable. But what is meant by flexible 
 and movable ? Is it not that I imagine that the piece of 
 wax, being round, is capable of becoming square, or of 
 passing from a square into a triangular figure ? Assuredly 
 such is not the case, because I conceive that it admits 
 of an infinity of similar changes; and I am, moreover, 
 unable to compass this infinity by imagination, and con- 
 sequently this conception which I have of the wax is 
 not the product of the faculty of imagination. But 
 what now is this extension ? Is it not also unknown ? for 
 it becomes greater when the wax is melted, greater when 
 it is boiled, and greater still when the heat increases; 
 and I should not conceive [clearly and] according to truth, 
 the wax as it is, if I did not suppose that the piece we 
 are considering admitted even of a wider variety of ex- 
 tension than I ever imagined. I must, therefore, admit 
 that I cannot even comprehend by imagination what the 
 piece of wax is, and that it is the mind alone ( mens , 
 Lat., entendement , F.) which perceives it. I speak of one 
 piece in particular; for as to wax in general, this is still 
 more evident. But what is the piece of wax that can be 
 perceived only by the [understanding or] mind ? It is 
 certainly the same which I see, touch, imagine; and, in 
 fine, it is the same which, from the beginning, I believed 
 it to be. But (and this it is of moment to observe) the 
 perception of it is neither an act of sight, of touch, nor 
 of imagination, and never was either of these, though it 
 might formerly seem so, but is simply an intuition ( in - 
 spectio) of the mind, which may be imperfect and con- 
 fused, as it formerly was, or very clear and distinct, as 
 it is at present, according as the attention is more or less 
 directed to the elements which it contains, and of which 
 it is composed. 
 
 But, meanwhile, I feel greatly astonished when I ob- 
 serve [the weakness of my mind, and] its proneness to 
 error. For although, without at all giving expression to 
 what I think, I consider all this in my own mind, words 
 yet occasionally impede my progress, and I am almost 
 
233 
 
 MEDITATION II 
 
 r 
 
 led into error by the terras of ordinary language. We 
 say, for example, that we see the same wax when it is 
 before us, and not that we judge it to be the same from 
 its retaining the same color and figure : whence I should 
 forthwith be disposed to conclude that the wax is known 
 by the act of sight, and not by the intuition of the mind 
 alone, were it not for the analogous instance of human 
 beings passing on in the street below, as observed from 
 a window. In this case I do not fail to say that I see 
 the men themselves, just as I say that I see the wax; 
 and yet what do I see from the window beyond hats and 
 cloaks that might cover artificial machines, whose mo- 
 tions might be determined by springs ? But I judge that 
 there are human beings from these appearances, and thus 
 I comprehend, by the faculty of judgment alone which 
 is in the mind, what I believed I saw with my 
 eyes. 
 
 The man who makes it his aim to rise to knowledge 
 superior to the common, ought to be ashamed to seek 
 occasions of doubting from the vulgar forms of speech: 
 instead, therefore, of doing this, I shall proceed with 
 the matter in hand, and inquire whether I had a clearer 
 and more perfect perception of the piece of wax when I 
 first saw it, and when I thought I knew it by means of 
 the external sense itself, or, at all events, by the com- 
 mon sense ( sensus communis ), as it is called, that is, by 
 the imaginative faculty; or whether I rather apprehend 
 it more clearly at present, after having examined with 
 greater care, both what it is, and in what way it can be 
 known. It would certainly be ridiculous to entertain any 
 doubt on this point. For what, in that first perception, 
 was there distinct ? What did I perceive which any ani- 
 mal might not have perceived ? But when I distin- 
 guish the wax from its exterior forms, and when, 
 as if I had stripped it of its vestments, I consider it 
 quite naked, it is certain, although some error may 
 still be found in my judgment, that I cannot, never- 
 theless, thus apprehend it without possessing a human 
 mind. 
 
 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 dis- 
 tinct an apprehension of the piece of wax, do I not know 
 
OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND 233 
 
 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: for 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 applic- 
 able to all the other things that are external to me. And 
 further, if the [notion or] perception of wax appeared to 
 me more precise and distinct, after that not only sight 
 and touch, but many other causes besides, rendered it 
 manifest to my apprehension, with how much greater dis- 
 tinctness must I now know myself, since all the reasons 
 that contribute to the knowledge of the nature of wax, 
 or of any body whatever, manifest still better the nature 
 of my mind ? And there are besides so many other things 
 in the mind itself that contribute to the illustration of its 
 nature, that those dependent on the body, to which I 
 have here referred, scarcely merit to be taken into 
 account. 
 
 But, in conclusion, I find I have insensibly reverted 
 to the point I desired; for, since it is now manifest to 
 me that bodies themselves are not properly perceived by 
 the senses nor by the faculty of imagination, but by the 
 intellect alone ; and since they are not perceived because 
 they are seen and touched, but only because they are 
 understood [or rightly comprehended by thought], I 
 readily discover that there is nothing more easily or 
 clearly apprehended than my own mind. But because it 
 is difficult to rid one’s self so promptly of an opinion to 
 which one has been long accustomed, it will be desirable 
 to tarry for some time at this stage, that, by long con- 
 tinued meditation, I may more deeply impress upon my 
 memory this new knowledge. 
 
MEDITATION III. 
 
 Of God: That He Exists. 
 
 I will now close my eyes, I will stop my ears, I will 
 turn away my senses from their objects, I will even efface 
 from my consciousness all the images of corporeal things; 
 or at least, because this can hardly be accomplished, I 
 will consider them as empty and false; and thus, hold- 
 ing converse only with myself, and closely examining my 
 nature, I will endeavor to obtain by degrees a more inti- 
 mate and familiar knowledge of myself. I am a thinking 
 (conscious) thing, that is, a being who doubts, affirms, 
 denies, knows a few objects, and is ignorant of many, — 
 [who loves, hates], wills, refuses, who imagines likewise, 
 and perceives; for, as I before remarked, although the 
 things which I perceive or imagine are perhaps nothing 
 at all apart from me [and in themselves], I am never- 
 theless assured that those modes of consciousness which 
 I call perceptions and imaginations, in as far only as 
 they are modes of consciousness, exist in me. And in 
 the little I have said I think I have summed up all that 
 I really know, or at least all that up to this time I was 
 aware I knew. Now, as I am endeavoring to extend my 
 knowledge more widely, I will use circumspection, and 
 consider with care whether I can still discover in myself 
 anything further which I have not yet hitherto observed. 
 I am certain that I am a thinking thing; but do I not 
 therefore likewise know what is required to render me 
 certain of a truth ? In this first knowledge, doubtless, 
 there is nothing that gives me assurance of its truth 
 except the clear and distinct perception of what I affirm, 
 which would not indeed be sufficient to give me the 
 assurance that what I say is true, if it could ever happen 
 that anything I thus clearly and distinctly perceived 
 should prove false; and accordingly it seems to me that 
 I may now take as a general rule, that all that is very 
 clearly and distinctly apprehended (conceived) is true. 
 
 Nevertheless I before received and admitted many 
 things as wholly certain and manifest, which yet I after- 
 ward found to be doubtful. What, then, were those ? 
 (234) 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 235 
 
 They were the earth, the sky, the stars, and all the 
 other objects which I was in the habit of perceiving by 
 the senses. But what was it that I clearly [and dis- 
 tinctly] perceived in them ? Nothing more than that the 
 ideas and the thoughts of those objects were presented 
 to my mind. And even now I do not deny that these 
 ideas are found in my mind. But there was yet another 
 thing which I affirmed, and which, from having been 
 accustomed to believe it, I thought I clearly perceived, 
 although, in truth, I did not perceive it at all; I mean 
 the existence of objects external to me, from which those 
 ideas proceeded, and to which they had a perfect resem- 
 blance; and it was here I was mistaken, or if I judged 
 correctly, this assuredly was not to be traced to any 
 knowledge I possessed (the force of my perception, Lat.). 
 
 But when I considered any matter in arithmetic and 
 geometry, that was very simple and easy, as, for example, 
 that two and three added together make five, and things 
 of this sort, did I not view them with at least sufficient 
 clearness to warrant me in affirming their truth ? Indeed, 
 if I afterward judged that we ought to doubt of these 
 things, it was for no other reason than because it oc- 
 curred to me that a God might perhaps have given me 
 such a nature as that I should be deceived, even respect- 
 ing the matters that appeared to me the most evidently 
 true. But as often as this preconceived opinion of the 
 sovereign power of a God presents itself to my mind, I 
 am constrained to admit that it is easy for him, if he 
 wishes it, to cause me to err, even in matters where I 
 think I possess the highest evidence ; and, on the other 
 hand, as often as I direct my attention to things which 
 I think I apprehend with great clearness, I am so per- 
 suaded of their truth that I naturally break out into 
 expressions such as these : Deceive me who may, no one 
 
 will yet ever be able to bring it about that I am not, so 
 long as I shall be conscious that I am, or at any future 
 time cause it to be true that I have never been, it being 
 now true that I am, or make two and three more or less 
 than five, in supposing which, and other like absurdities, 
 I discover a manifest contradiction. 
 
 And in truth, as I have no ground for believing that 
 Deity is deceitful, and as, indeed, I have not even con- 
 sidered the reasons by which the existence of a Deity 
 
236 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 
 of any kind is established, the ground of doubt that rests 
 only on this supposition is very slight, and, so to speak, 
 metaphysical. But, that I may be able wholly to remove 
 it, I must inquire whether there is a God, as soon as an 
 opportunity of doing so shall present itself ; and if I find 
 that there is a God, I must examine likewise whether he 
 can be a deceiver; for, without the knowledge of these 
 two truths, I do not see that I can ever be certain of 
 anything. And that I may be enabled to examine this 
 without interrupting the order of meditation I have pro- 
 posed to myself [ which is, to pass by degrees from the 
 notions that I shall find first in my mind to those I shall 
 afterward discover in it], it is necessary at this stage 
 to divide all my thoughts into certain classes, and to con- 
 sider in which of these classes truth and error are, 
 strictly speaking, to be found. 
 
 Of my thoughts some are, as it were, images of things, 
 and to these alone properly belongs the name idea ; as 
 when I think [ represent to my mind ] a man, a chimera, 
 the sky, an angel or God. Others, again, have certain 
 other forms; as when I will, fear, affirm, or deny, I 
 always, indeed, apprehend something as the object of my 
 thought, but I also embrace in thought something more 
 than the representation of the object; and of this class 
 of thoughts some are called volitions or affections, and 
 others judgments. 
 
 Now, with respect to ideas, if these are considered only 
 in themselves, and are not referred to any object beyond 
 them, they cannot, properly speaking, be false ; for, 
 whether I imagine a goat or chimera, it is not less true 
 that I imagine the one than the other. Nor need we fear 
 that falsity may exist in the will or affections; for, although 
 I may desire objects that are wrong, and even that never 
 existed, it is still true that I desire them. There thus 
 only remain our judgments, in which we must take dili- 
 gent heed that we be not deceived. But the chief and 
 most ordinary error that arises in them consists in judg- 
 ing that the ideas which are in us are like or conformed 
 to the things that are external to us ; for assuredly, if we 
 but considered the ideas themselves as certain modes of 
 our thought (consciousness), without referring them to 
 anything beyond, they would hardly afford any occasion 
 of error. 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 237 
 
 But among these ideas, some appear to me to be innate, 
 others adventitious, and others to be made by myself 
 (factitious) ; for, as I have the power of conceiving what 
 is called a thing, or a truth, or a thought, it seems to me 
 that I hold this power from no other source than my own 
 nature; but if I now hear a noise, if I see the sun, or if 
 I feel heat, I have all along judged that these sensations 
 proceeded from certain objects existing out of myself; and, 
 in fine, it appears to me that sirens, hippogryphs, and the 
 like, are inventions of my own mind. But I may even 
 perhaps come to be of opinion that all my ideas are of 
 the class which I call adventitious, or that they are al] 
 innate, or that they are all factitious ; for I have not yet 
 clearly discovered their true origin; and what I have here 
 principally to do is to consider, with reference to those 
 that appear to come from certain objects without me, 
 what grounds there are for thinking them like these 
 objects. 
 
 The first of these grounds is that it seems to me I am 
 so taught by nature; and the second that I am conscious 
 that those ideas are not dependent on my will, and there- 
 fore not on myself, for they are frequently presented to 
 me against my will, as at present, whether I will or not, 
 I feel heat; and I am thus persuaded that this sensation 
 or idea ( sensum vel idecnri) of heat is produced in me by 
 something different from myself, viz., by the heat of the 
 fire by which I sit. And it is very reasonable to suppose 
 that this object impresses me with its own likeness rather 
 than any other thing. 
 
 But I must consider whether these reasons are suffi- 
 ciently strong and convincing. When I speak of being 
 taught by nature in this matter, I understand by the 
 word nature only a certain spontaneous impetus that im- 
 pels me to believe in a resemblance between ideas and 
 their objects, and not a natural light that affords a knowl- 
 edge of its truth. But these two things are widely 
 different; for what the natural light shows to be true 
 can be in no degree doubtful, as, for example, that I am 
 because I doubt, and other truths of the like kind; inas- 
 much as I possess no other faculty whereby to distinguish 
 truth from error, which can teach me the falsity of what 
 the natural light declares to be true, and which is equally 
 trustworthy ; but with respect to [seemingly] natural 
 
238 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 
 impulses, I have observed, when the question related to 
 the choice of right or wrong in action, that they fre- 
 quently led me to take the worse part ; nor do I see that 
 I have any better ground for following them in what 
 relates to truth and error. Then, with respect to the 
 other reason, which is that because these ideas do not 
 depend on my will, they must arise from objects existing 
 without me, I do not find it more convincing than the 
 former; for just as those natural impulses, of which I 
 have lately spoken, are found in me, notwithstanding that 
 they are not always in harmony with my will, so like- 
 wise it may be that I possess some power not sufficiently 
 known to myself capable of producing ideas without the 
 aid of external objects, and, indeed, it has always hitherto 
 appeared to me that they are formed during sleep, by 
 some power of this nature, without the aid of aught ex- 
 ternal. And, in fine, although I should grant that they 
 proceeded from those objects, it is not a necessary conse- 
 quence that they must be like them. On the contrary, 
 I have observed, in a number of instances, that there was 
 a great difference between the object and its idea. Thus, 
 for example, I find in my mind two wholly diverse ideas 
 of the sun; the one, by which it appears to me extremely 
 small draws its origin from the senses, and should be 
 placed in the class of adventitious ideas; the other, by 
 which it seems to be many times larger than the whole 
 earth, is taken up on astronomical grounds, that is, elicited 
 from certain notions born with me, or is framed by my- 
 self in some other manner. These two ideas cannot cer- 
 tainly both resemble the same sun; and reason teaches 
 me that the one which seems to have immediately 
 emanated from it is the most unlike. And these things 
 sufficiently prove that hitherto it has not been from a 
 certain and deliberate judgment, but only from a sort of 
 blind impulse, that I believed in the existence of certain 
 things different from myself, which, by the organs of 
 sense, or by whatever other means it might be, conveyed 
 their ideas or images into my mind [and impressed it 
 with their likenesses]. 
 
 But there is still another way of inquiring whether, of 
 the objects whose ideas are in my mind, there are any 
 that exist out of me. If ideas are taken in so far only as 
 they are certain modes of consciousness, I do not remark 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 239 
 
 any difference or inequality among them, and all seem, 
 in the same manner, to proceed from myself; but, con- 
 sidering them as images, of which one represents one 
 thing and another a different, it is evident that a great 
 diversity obtains among them. For, without doubt, those 
 that represent substances are something more, and con- 
 tain in themselves, so to speak, more objective reality 
 [that is, participate by representation in higher degrees 
 of being or perfection], than those that represent only 
 modes or accidents; and again, the idea by which I con- 
 ceive a God [sovereign], eternal, infinite, [immutable], 
 all-knowing, all-powerful, and the creator of all things 
 that are out of himself, this, I say, has certainly in it 
 more objective reality than those ideas by which finite 
 substances are represented. 
 
 Now, it is manifest by the natural light that there must 
 at least be as much reality in the efficient and total cause 
 as in its effect; for whence can the effect draw its reality 
 if not from its cause ? And how could the cause communi- 
 cate to it this reality unless it possessed it in itself ? And 
 hence it follows, not only that what is cannot be produced 
 by what is not, but likewise that the more perfect, in 
 other words, that which contains in itself more reality, 
 cannot be the effect of the less perfect; and this is not 
 only evidently true of those effects, whose reality is actual 
 or formal, but likewise of ideas, whose reality is only con- 
 sidered as objective. Thus, for example, the stone that 
 is not yet in existence, not only cannot now commence to 
 be, unless it be produced by that which possesses in itself, 
 formally or eminently, all that enters into its composition, 
 [in other words, by that which contains in itself the same 
 properties that are in the stone, or others superior to 
 them]; and heat can only be produced in a subject that 
 was before devoid of it, by a cause that is of an order, 
 [degree or kind], at least as perfect as heat; and so of the 
 others. But further, even the idea of the heat, or of the 
 stone, cannot exist in me unless it be put there by a cause 
 that contains, at least, as much reality as I conceive 
 existent in the heat or in the stone: for although that 
 cause may not transmit into my idea anything of its actual 
 or formal reality, we ought not on this account to imagine 
 that it is less real; but we ought to consider that, [as 
 every idea is a work of the mind], its nature is such as 
 
240 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 
 of itself to demand no other formal reality than that 
 which it borrows from our consciousness, of which it is 
 but a mode [that is, a manner or way of thinking]. But 
 in order that an idea may contain this objective reality 
 rather than that, it must doubtless derive it from some 
 cause in which is found at least as much formal reality 
 as the idea contains of objective; for, if we suppose that 
 there is found in an idea anything which was not in its 
 cause, it must of course derive this from nothing. But, 
 however imperfect may be the mode of existence by which 
 a thing is objectively [or by representation] in the under- 
 standing by its idea, we certainly cannot, for all that, 
 allege that this mode of existence is nothing, nor, conse- 
 quently, that the idea owes its origin to nothing. Nor 
 must it be imagined that, since the reality which is con- 
 sidered in these ideas is only objective, the same reality 
 need not be formally (actually) in the causes of these ideas, 
 but only objectively: for, just as the mode of existing 
 objectively belongs to ideas by their peculiar nature, so 
 likewise the mode of existing formally appertains to the 
 causes of these ideas (at least to the first and principal), 
 by their peculiar nature. And although an idea may give 
 rise to another idea, this regress cannot, nevertheless, be 
 infinite; we must in the end reach a first idea, the cause 
 of which is, as it were, the archetype in which all the 
 reality [or perfection] that is found objectively [or by rep- 
 resentation] in these ideas is contained formally [and in 
 act]. I am thus clearly taught by the natural light that 
 ideas exist in me as pictures or images, which may, in 
 truth, readily fall short of the perfection of the objects 
 from which they are taken, but can never contain any- 
 thing greater or more perfect. 
 
 And in proportion to the time and care with which I 
 examine all those matters, the conviction of their truth 
 brightens and becomes distinct. But, to sum up, what 
 conclusion shall I draw from it all? It is this: if the 
 objective reality [or perfection] of any one of my ideas 
 be such as clearly to convince me, that this same reality 
 exists in me neither formally nor eminently, and if, as 
 follows from this, I myself cannot be the cause of it, it 
 is a necessary consequence that I am not alone in the 
 world, but that there is besides myself some other being 
 who exists as the cause of that idea; while, on the con- 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 241 
 
 trary, if no such idea be found in my mind, I shall have 
 no sufficient ground of assurance of the existence of any 
 other being besides myself- for, after a most careful 
 search, I have, up to this moment, been unable to dis- 
 cover any other ground. 
 
 But, among these my ideas, besides that which repre- 
 sents myself, respecting which there can be here no diffi- 
 culty, there is one that represents a God; others that 
 represent corporeal and inanimate things; others angels; 
 others animals; and, finally, there are some that repre- 
 sent men like myself. But with respect to the ideas that 
 represent other men, or animals, or angels, I can easily 
 suppose that they were formed by the mingling and com- 
 position of the other ideas which I have of myself, of 
 corporeal things, and of God, although they were, apart 
 from myself, neither men, animals, nor angels. And 
 with regard to the ideas of corporeal objects, I never 
 discovered in them anything so great or excellent which 
 I myself did not appear capable of originating; for, by 
 considering these ideas closely and scrutinizing them 
 individually, in the same way that I yesterday examined 
 the idea of wax, I find that there is but little in them 
 that is clearly and distinctly perceived. As belonging to 
 the class of things that are clearly apprehended, I recog- 
 nize the following, viz, magnitude or extension in length, 
 breadth, and depth ; figure, which results from the termi- 
 nation of extension; situation, which bodies of diverse 
 figures preserve with reference to each other; and motion 
 or the change of situation; to which may be added sub- 
 stance, duration, and number. But with regard to light, 
 colors, sounds, odors, tastes, heat, cold, and the other 
 tactile qualities, they are thought with so much obscurity 
 and confusion, that I cannot determine even whether 
 they are true or false; in other words, whether or not 
 the ideas I have of these qualities are in truth the ideas 
 of real objects. For although I before remarked that it 
 is only in judgments that formal falsity, or falsity prop- 
 erly so called, can be met with, there may nevertheless 
 be found in ideas a certain material falsity, which arises 
 when they represent what is nothing as if it were some- 
 thing. Thus, for example, the ideas I have of cold and 
 heat are so far from being clear and distinct, that I am 
 unable from them to discover whether cold is only the 
 16 
 
242 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 
 privation of heat, or heat the privation of cold ; or whether 
 they are or are not real qualities: and since, ideas being 
 as it were images there can be none that does not seem 
 to us to represent some object, the idea which represents 
 cold as something real and positive will not improperly 
 be called false, if it be correct to say that cold is noth- 
 ing but a privation of heat; and so in other cases. To 
 ideas of this kind, indeed, it is not necessary that I 
 should assign any author besides myself: for if they are 
 false, that is, represent objects that are unreal, the 
 natural light teaches me that they proceed from nothing; 
 in other words, that they are in me only because some- 
 thing is wanting to the perfection of my nature; but if 
 these ideas are true, yet because they exhibit to me so 
 little reality that I cannot even distinguish the object 
 represented from non-being, I do not see why I should 
 not be the author of them. 
 
 With reference to those ideas of corporeal things that 
 are clear and distinct, there are some which, as appears 
 to me, might have been taken from the idea I have of 
 myself, as those of substance, duration, number, and the 
 like. For when I think that a stone is a substance, or a 
 thing capable of existing of itself, and that I am likewise 
 a substance, although I conceive that I am a thinking 
 and non-extended thing, and that the stone, on the con- 
 trary, is extended and unconscious, there being thus the 
 greatest diversity between the two concepts, yet these 
 two ideas seem to have this in common that they both 
 represent substances. In the same way, when I think 
 of myself as now existing, and recollect besides that I 
 existed some time ago, and when I am conscious of 
 various thoughts whose number I know, I then acquire 
 the ideas of duration and number, which I can after- 
 ward transfer to as many objects as I please. With 
 respect to the other qualities that go to make up the 
 ideas of corporeal objects, viz, extension, figure, situation, 
 and motion, it is true that they are not formally in me, 
 since I am merely a thinking being; but because they 
 are only certain modes of substance, and because I my 
 self am a substance, it seems possible that they may be 
 contained in me eminently. 
 
 There only remains, therefore, the idea of God, in 
 tvhich I must consider whether there is anything that 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 243 
 
 cannot be supposed to originate with myself. By the 
 name 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. But these properties 
 are so great and excellent, that the more attentively I 
 consider them the less I feel persuaded that the idea I 
 have of them owes its origin to myself alone. And 
 thus it is absolutely necessary to conclude, from all that 
 I have before said, that God exists: for though the idea 
 of substance be in my mind owing to this, that I myself 
 am a substance, I should not, however, have the idea of 
 an infinite substance, seeing I am a finite being, unless 
 it were given me by some substance in reality infinite. 
 
 And I must not imagine that I do not apprehend the 
 infinite by a true idea, but only by the negation of the 
 finite, in the same way that I comprehend repose and 
 darkness by the negation of motion and light: since, on 
 the contrary, I clearly perceive that there is more reality 
 in the infinite substance than in the finite, and therefore 
 that in some way I possess the perception (notion) of the 
 infinite before that, of the finite, that is, the perception 
 of God before that of myself, for how could I know that 
 I doubt, desire, or that something is wanting to me, and 
 that I am not wholly perfect, if I possessed no idea of 
 a being more perfect than myself, by comparison of 
 which I knew the deficiencies of my nature ? 
 
 And it cannot be said that this idea of God is perhaps 
 materially false, and consequently that it may have arisen 
 from nothing [in other words, that it may exist in me from 
 my imperfection], as I before said of the ideas of heat 
 and cold, and the like: for, on the contrary, as this idea 
 is very clear and distinct, and contains in itself more 
 objective reality than any other, there can be no one of 
 itself more true, or less open to the suspicion of falsity. 
 
 The idea, I say, of a being supremely perfect, and 
 infinite, is in the highest degree true ; for although, per- 
 haps, we may imagine that such a being does not exist, 
 we cannot, nevertheless, suppose that his idea represents 
 nothing real, as I have already said of the idea of cold. 
 It is likewise clear and distinct in the highest degree, 
 since whatever the mind clearly and distinctly conceives 
 as real or true, and as implying any perfection, is con- 
 
244 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 
 tained entire in this idea. And this is true, neverthe- 
 less, although I do not comprehend the infinite, and 
 although there may be in God an infinity of things that 
 I cannot comprehend, nor perhaps even compass by 
 thought in any way; for it is of the nature of the infinite 
 that it should not be comprehended by the finite ; and it 
 is enough that I rightly understand this, and judge that 
 all which I clearly perceive, and in which I know there 
 is some perfection, and perhaps also an infinity of prop- 
 erties of which I am ignorant, are formally or eminently 
 in God, in order that the idea I have of him may be- 
 come the most true, clear, and distinct of all the ideas 
 in my mind. 
 
 But perhaps I am something more than I suppose 
 myself to be, and it may be that all those perfections 
 which I attribute to God, in some way exist potentially 
 in me, although they do not yet show themselves, and 
 are not reduced to act. Indeed, I am already conscious 
 that my knowledge is being increased [and perfected] by 
 degrees; and I see nothing to prevent it from thus gradu- 
 ally increasing to infinity, nor any reason why, after 
 such increase and perfection, I should not be able thereby 
 to acquire all the other perfections of the Divine nature; 
 nor, in fine, why the power I possess of acquiring those 
 perfections, if it really now exist in me, should not be 
 sufficient to produce the ideas of them. Yet, on looking 
 more closely into the matter, I discover that this cannot 
 be; for, in the first place, although it were true that 
 my knowledge daily acquired new degrees of perfection, 
 and although there were potentially in my nature much 
 that was not as yet actually in it, still all these excel- 
 lences make not the slightest approach to the idea I 
 have of the Deity, in whom there is no perfection merely 
 potentially [but all actually] existent; for it is even an 
 unmistakable token of imperfection in my knowledge, 
 that it is augmented by degrees. Further, although my 
 knowledge increase more and more, nevertheless I am 
 not, therefore, induced to think that it will ever be 
 actually infinite, since ' it can never reach that point 
 beyond which it shall be incapable of further increase. 
 But I conceive God as actually infinite, so that nothing 
 can be added to his perfection. And, in fine, I readily per- 
 ceive that the objective being of an idea cannot be pro- 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 245 
 
 duced by a being that is merely potentially existent, 
 which, properly speaking, is nothing, but only by a being 
 existing formally or actually. 
 
 And, truly, I see nothing in all that I have now said 
 which it is not easy for any one, who shall carefully con- 
 sider it, to discern by the natural light; but when I allow 
 my attention in some degree to relax, the vision of my 
 mind being obscured, and, as it were, blinded by the 
 images of sensible objects, I do not readily remember 
 the reason why the idea of a being more perfect than 
 myself, must of necessity have proceeded from a being 
 in reality more perfect. On this account I am here 
 desirous to inquire further, whether I, who possess this 
 idea of God, could exist supposing there were no God. 
 And I ask, from whom could I, in that case, derive my 
 existence ? Perhaps from myself, or from my parents, or 
 from some other causes less perfect than God; for any- 
 thing more perfect, or even equal to God, cannot be 
 thought or imagined. But if I [were independent of 
 every other existence, and] were myself the author of 
 my being, I should doubt of nothing, I should desire 
 nothing, and, in fine, no perfection would be awanting 
 to me; for I should have bestowed upon myself every 
 perfection of which I possess the idea, and I should thus 
 be God. And it must not be imagined that what is now 
 wanting to me is perhaps of more difficult acquisition 
 than that of which I am already possessed; for, on the 
 contrary, it is quite manifest that it was a matter of 
 much higher difficulty that I, a thinking being, should 
 arise from nothing, than it would be for me to acquire 
 the knowledge of many things of which I am ignorant, 
 and which are merely the accidents of a thinking sub- 
 stance ; and certainly, if I possessed of myself the greater 
 perfection of which I have now spoken [in other words, 
 if I were the author of my own existence], I would not 
 at least have denied to myself things that may be more 
 easily obtained [as that infinite variety of knowledge of 
 which I am at present destitute], I could not, indeed, 
 have denied to myself any property which I perceive is 
 contained in the idea of God, because there is none of 
 these that seems to me to be more difficult to make or 
 acquire; and if there were any that should happen to be 
 more difficult to acquire, they would certainly appear so 
 
246 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 
 to me (supposing that I myself were the source of the 
 other things I possess), because I should discover in them 
 a limit to my power. And though I were to suppose 
 that I always was as I now am, I should not, on this 
 ground, escape the force of these reasonings, since it 
 would not follow, even on this supposition, that no author 
 of my existence needed to be sought after. For the whole 
 time of my life may be divided into an infinity of parts, 
 each of which is in no way dependent on any other; 
 and, accordingly, 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 evi- 
 dent to all who will 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]. All that is here required, therefore, is that I 
 interrogate myself to discover whether I possess any 
 power by means of which I can bring it about that I, 
 who now am, shall exist a moment afterward: for, since 
 I am merely a thinking thing (or since, at least, the 
 precise question, in the meantime, is only of that part 
 of myself), if such a power resided in me, I should, 
 without doubt, be conscious of it ; but I am conscious of 
 no such power, and thereby I manifestly know that 
 I am dependent upon some being different from my- 
 self. 
 
 But perhaps the being upon whom I am dependent is 
 not God, and I have been produced either by my par- 
 ents, or by some causes less perfect than Deity. This 
 cannot be: for, as I before said, it is perfectly evident 
 that there must at least be as much reality in the cause 
 as in its effect; and accordingly, since I am a thinking 
 thing and possess in myself an idea of God, whatever in 
 the end be the cause of my existence, it must of neces- 
 sity be admitted that it is likewise a thinking being, and 
 that it possesses in itself the idea and all the perfections 
 I attribute to Deity. Then it may again be inquired 
 whether this cause owes its origin and existence to itself, 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 247 
 
 or to some other cause. For if it be self -existent, it 
 follows, from what I have before laid down, that this 
 cause is God; for, since it possesses the perfection of 
 self-existence, it must likewise, without doubt, have the 
 power of actually possessing every perfection of which it 
 has the idea — in other words, all the perfections I con- 
 ceive to belong to God. But if it owe its existence to 
 another cause than itself, we demand again, for a similar 
 reason, whether this second cause exists of itself or 
 through some other, until, from stage to stage, we at 
 length arrive at an ultimate cause, which will be God. And 
 it is quite manifest that in this matter there can be no 
 infinite regress of causes, seeing that the question raised 
 respects not so much the cause which once produced 
 me, as that by which I am at this present moment con- 
 served. 
 
 Nor can it be supposed that several causes concurred 
 in my production, and that from one I received the idea 
 of one of the perfections I attribute to Deity, and from 
 another the idea of some other, and thus that all those 
 perfections are indeed found somewhere in the universe, 
 but do not all exist together in a single being who is 
 God; for, on the contrary, the unity, the simplicity, or 
 inseparability of all the properties of Deity, is one of 
 the chief perfections I conceive him to possess; and the 
 idea of this unity of all the perfections of Deity could 
 certainly not be put into my mind by any cause from 
 which I did not likewise receive the ideas of all the 
 other perfections ; for no power could enable me to embrace 
 them in an inseparable unity, without at the same time 
 giving me the knowledge of what they were [and of their 
 existence in a particular mode]. 
 
 Finally, with regard to my parents [from whom it 
 appears I sprung ], although all that I believed respecting 
 them be true, it does not, nevertheless, follow that I am 
 conserved by them, or even that I was produced by them, 
 in so far as I am a thinking being. All that, at the 
 most, they contributed to my origin was the giving of 
 certain dispositions ( modifications ) to the matter in which 
 I have hitherto judged that I or my mind, which is what 
 alone I now consider to be myself, is inclosed; and thus 
 there can here be no difficulty with respect to them, and 
 it is absolutely necessary to conclude from this alone 
 
248 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 
 that I am, and possess the idea of a being- absolutely 
 perfect, that is, of God, that his existence is most clearly 
 demonstrated. 
 
 There remains only the inquiry as to the way in which 
 I received this idea from God; for I have not drawn it 
 from the senses, nor is it even presented to me unex- 
 pectedly, as is usual with the ideas of sensible objects, 
 when these are presented or appear to be presented to 
 the external organs of the senses; it is not even a pure 
 production or fiction of my mind, for it is not in my 
 power to take from or add to it ; and consequently there 
 but remains the alternative that it is innate, in the same 
 way as is the idea of myself. And, in truth, it is not to 
 be wondered at that God, at my creation, implanted this 
 idea in me, that it might serve, as it were, for the mark 
 of the workman impressed on his work; and it is not 
 also necessary that the mark should be something dif- 
 ferent from the work itself; but considering only that 
 God is my creator, it is highly probable that he in some 
 way fashioned me after his own image and likeness, and 
 that I perceive this likeness, in which is contained the 
 idea of God, by the same faculty by which I apprehend 
 myself, in other words, when I make myself the object 
 of reflection, I not only find that I am an incomplete, 
 [ imperfect ] and dependent being, and one who unceas- 
 ingly aspires after something better and greater than he 
 is ; but, at the same time, I am assured likewise that he 
 upon whom I am dependent possesses in himself all the 
 goods after which I aspire [ and the ideas of which I 
 find in my mind], and that not merely indefinitely and 
 potentially, but infinitely and actually, and that he is 
 thus God. And the whole force of the argument of 
 which I have here availed myself to establish the exist- 
 ence of God, consists in this, that I perceive I could not 
 possibly be of such a nature as I am, and yet have in 
 my mind the idea of a God, if God did not in reality 
 exist — this same God, I say, whose idea is in my mind 
 — that is, a being who possesses all those lofty perfec- 
 tions, of which the mind may have some slight con- 
 ception, without, however, being able fully to compre- 
 hend them, and who is wholly superior to all defect 
 [ and has nothing that marks imperfection ] : whence it is 
 sufficiently manifest that he cannot be a deceiver, since 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 249 
 
 it is a dictate of the natural light that all fraud and 
 deception spring from some defect. 
 
 But before I examine this with more attention, and 
 pass on to the consideration of other truths that may be 
 evolved out of it, I think it proper to remain here for 
 some time in the contemplation of God himself — that I 
 may ponder at leisure his marvelous attributes — and be- 
 hold, admire, and adore the beauty of this light so un- 
 speakably great, as far, at least, as the strength of my 
 mind, which is to some degree dazzled by the sight, will 
 permit. For just as we learn by faith that the supreme 
 felicity of another life consists in the contemplation of 
 the Divine majesty alone, so even now we learn from 
 experience that a like meditation, though incomparably 
 less perfect, is the source of the highest satisfaction of 
 which we are susceptible in this life. 
 
 MEDITATION IV. 
 
 Of Truth and Error. 
 
 I have been habituated these bygone days to detach my 
 mind from the senses, and I have accurately observed 
 that there is exceedingly little which is known with cer- 
 tainty respecting corporeal objects, that we know much 
 more of the human mind, and still more of God himself. 
 I am thus able now without difficulty to abstract my mind 
 from the contemplation of [sensible or] imaginable objects, 
 and apply it to those which, as disengaged from all mat- 
 ter, are purely intelligible. And certainly the idea I have 
 of the human mind in so far as it is a thinking thing, 
 and not extended in length, breadth, and depth, and par- 
 ticipating in none of the properties of body, is incompar- 
 ably more distinct than the idea of any corporeal object; 
 and when I consider that I doubt, in other words, that 
 I am an incomplete and dependent being, the idea of a 
 complete and independent being, that is to say of God, 
 occurs to my mind with so much clearness and distinct- 
 ness, and from the fact alone that this idea is found in 
 me, or that I who possess it exist, the conclusions that 
 God exists, and that my own existence, each moment of 
 its continuance, is absolutely dependent upon him, are so 
 
250 
 
 MEDITATION IV 
 
 manifest, as to lead me to believe it impossible that the 
 human mind can know anything with more clearness and 
 certitude. And now I seem to discover a path that will 
 conduct us from the contemplation of the true God, in 
 whom are contained all the treasures of science and wis- 
 dom, to the knowledge of the other things in the uni- 
 verse. 
 
 For, in the first place, I discover that it is impossible 
 for him ever to deceive me, for in all fraud and deceit 
 there is a certain 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 weak- 
 ness; 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. 
 
 And there would remain no doubt on this head, did it 
 not seem to follow from this, that I can never therefore 
 be deceived; for if all I possess be from God, and if he 
 planted in me no faculty that is deceitful, it seems to 
 follow that I can never fall into error. Accordingly, it 
 is true that when I think only of God ( when I look upon 
 myself as coming from God, Fr.), and turn wholly to 
 him, I discover [ in myself ] no cause of error or falsity : 
 but immediately thereafter, recurring to myself, experi- 
 ence assures me that I am nevertheless subject to in- 
 numerable errors. When I come to inquire into the cause 
 of these, I observe that there is not only present to my 
 consciousness a real and positive idea of God, or of a 
 being supremely perfect, but also, so to speak, a certain 
 negative idea of nothing, in other words, of that which 
 is at an infinite distance from every sort of perfection, 
 and that I am, as it were, a mean between God and 
 nothing, or placed in such a way between absolute exist- 
 ence and non-existence, that there is in truth nothing in 
 me to lead me into error, in so far as an absolute being 
 is my creator; but that, on the other hand, as I thus 
 likewise participate in some degree of nothing or of non- 
 being, in other words, as I am not myself the supreme 
 
OF TRUTH AND ERROR 
 
 251 
 
 Being, and as I am wanting in many perfections, it is not 
 surprising I should fall into error. And I hence discern 
 that error, so far as error is not something real, which 
 depends for its existence on God, but is simply defect; 
 and therefore that, in order to fall into it, it is not neces- 
 sary God should have given me a faculty expressly for 
 this end, but that my being deceived arises from the 
 circumstance that the power which God has given me of 
 discerning truth from error is not infinite. 
 
 Nevertheless this is not yet quite satisfactory; for error 
 is not a pure negation, [in other words, it is not the simple 
 deficiency or want of some knowledge which is not due ], 
 but the privation or want of some knowledge which it 
 would seem I ought to possess. But, on considering the 
 nature of God, it seems impossible that he should have 
 planted in his creature any faculty not perfect in its kind, 
 that is, wanting in some perfection due to it: for if it be 
 true, that in proportion to the skill of the maker the per- 
 fection of his work is greater, what thing can have been 
 produced by the supreme Creator of the universe that is 
 not absolutely perfect in all its parts ? And assuredly 
 there is no doubt that God could have created me such as 
 that I should never be deceived; it is certain, likewise, 
 that he always wills what is best: is it better, then, 
 that I should be capable of being deceived than that I 
 should not ? 
 
 Considering this more attentively, the first thing that 
 occurs to me is the reflection that I must not be surprised 
 if I am not always capable of comprehending the reasons 
 why God acts as he does; nor must I doubt of his exist- 
 ence because I find, perhaps, that there are several other 
 things besides the present respecting which I understand 
 neither why nor how they were created by him ; for, know- 
 ing already that my nature is extremely weak and limited, 
 and that the nature of God, on the other hand, is immense, 
 incomprehensible, and infinite, I have no longer any diffi- 
 culty in discerning that there is an infinity of things in 
 his power whose causes transcend the grasp of my mind : 
 and this consideration alone is sufficient to convince me, 
 that the whole class of final causes is of no avail in 
 physical [ or natural ] things ; for it appears to me that 
 I cannot, without exposing myself to the charge of temer- 
 ity, seek to discover the [ impenetrable ] ends of Deity. 
 
252 
 
 MEDITATION IV 
 
 It further occurs to me that we must not consider 
 only one creature apart from the others, if we wish to 
 determine the perfection of the works of Deity, but gen- 
 erally all his creatures together; for the same object 
 that might perhaps, with some show of reason, be deemed 
 highly imperfect if it were alone in the world, may for 
 all that be the most perfect possible, considered as form- 
 ing part of the whole universe: and although, as it was 
 my purpose to doubt :>f everything, I only as yet know 
 with certainty my own existence and that of God, never- 
 theless, after having remarked the infinite power of 
 Deity, I cannot deny that we may have produced many 
 other objects, or at least that he is able to produce 
 them, so that I may occupy a place in the relation of a 
 part to the great whole of his creatures. 
 
 Whereupon, regarding myself more closely, and con- 
 sidering what my errors are ( which alone testify to the 
 existence of imperfection in me), I observe that these 
 depend on the concurrence of two causes, viz, the faculty 
 of cognition, which I possess, and that of election or the 
 power of free choice, — in other words, the understanding 
 and the will. For by the understanding alone, I [ neither 
 affirm nor deny anything but] merely apprehend ( percipio ) 
 the ideas regarding which I may form a judgment; nor 
 is any error, properly so called, found in it thus accu- 
 rately taken. And although there are perhaps innumer- 
 able objects in the world of which I have no idea in my 
 understanding, it cannot, on that account be said that I 
 am deprived of those ideas [as of something that is due 
 to my nature], but simply that I do not possess them, 
 because, in truth, there is no ground to prove that Deity 
 ought to have endowed me with a larger faculty of cog- 
 nition than he has actually bestowed upon me ; and how- 
 ever skillful a workman I suppose him to be, I have no 
 reason, on that account, to think that it was obligatory 
 on him to give to each of his works all the perfections 
 he is able to bestow upon some. Nor, moreover, can I 
 complain that God has not given me freedom of choice, 
 or a will sufficiently ample and perfect, since, in truth, 
 I am conscious of will so ample and extended as to be 
 superior to all limits. And what appears to me here to 
 be highly remarkable is that, of all the other properties I 
 possess, there is none so great and perfect as that I do 
 
OF TRUTH AND ERROR 
 
 253 
 
 not clearly discern it could be still greater and more 
 perfect. 
 
 For, to take an example, if I consider the faculty of 
 understanding which I possess, I find that it is of very 
 small extent, and greatly limited, and at the same time 
 I form the idea of another faculty of the same nature, 
 much more ample and even infinite, and seeing that I 
 can frame the idea of it, I discover, from this circum- 
 stance alone, that it pertains to the nature of God. In 
 the same way, if I examine the faculty of memory or 
 imagination, or any other faculty I possess, I find none 
 that is not small and circumscribed, and in God immense 
 [and infinite]. It is the faculty of will only, or freedom 
 of choice, which I experience to be so great that I am 
 unable to conceive the idea of another that shall be more 
 ample and extended; so that it is chiefly my will which 
 leads me to discern that I bear a certain image and 
 similitude of Deity. For although the faculty of will is 
 incomparably greater in God than in myself, as well in 
 respect of the knowledge and power that are conjoined 
 with it, and that render it stronger and more efficacious, 
 as in respect of the object, since in him it extends to a 
 greater number of things, it does not, nevertheless, ap- 
 pear to me greater, considered in itself formally and 
 precisely : for the power of will consists only in this, that 
 we are able to do or not to do the same thing (that is, 
 to affirm or deny, to pursue or shun it), or rather in 
 this alone, that in affirming or denying, pursuing or 
 shunning, what is proposed to us by the understanding, 
 we so act that we are not conscious of being determined to 
 a particular action by any external force. For, to the 
 possession of freedom, it is not necessary that I be alike 
 indifferent toward each of two contraries; but, on the con- 
 trary, the more I am inclined toward the one, whether 
 because I clearly know that in it there is the reason of 
 truth and goodness, or because God thus internally dis- 
 poses my thought, the more freely do I choose and 
 embrace it; and assuredly divine grace and natural knowl- 
 edge, very far from diminishing liberty, rather augment 
 and fortify it. But the indifference of which I am con- 
 scious when I am not impelled to one side rather than to 
 another for want of a reason, is the lowest grade of liberty, 
 and manifests defect or negation of knowledge rather than 
 
254 
 
 MEDITATION IV 
 
 perfection of will ; for if I always clearly knew what was 
 true and good, I should never have any difficulty in detei- 
 mining what judgment I ought to come to, and what 
 choice I ought to make, and I should thus be entirely free 
 without ever being indifferent. 
 
 From all this I discover, however, that neither the 
 power of willing, which I have received from God, is of 
 itself the source of my errors, for it is exceedingly ample 
 and perfect in its kind; nor even the power of under- 
 standing, for as I conceive no object unless by means of 
 the faculty that God bestowed upon me, all that I con- 
 ceive is doubtless rightly conceived by me, and it is im- 
 possible for me to be deceived in it. 
 
 Whence, then, spring my errors ? They arise from this 
 cause alone, that I do not restrain the will, which is of 
 much wider range than the understanding, within the 
 same limits, but extend it even to things I do not 
 understand, and as the will is of itself indifferent 
 to such, it readily falls into error and sin by choos- 
 ing the false in room of the true, and evil instead of 
 good. 
 
 For example, when I lately considered whether aught 
 really existed in the world, and found that because I 
 considered this question, it very manifestly followed that 
 I myself existed, I could not but judge that what I so 
 clearly conceived was true, not that I was forced to this 
 judgment by any external cause, but simply because 
 great clearness of the understanding was succeeded by 
 strong inclination in the will; and I believed this the 
 more freely and spontaneously in proportion as I was less 
 indifferent with respect to it. But now I not only know 
 that I exist, in so far as I am a thinking being, but 
 there is likewise presented to my mind a certain idea of 
 corporeal nature ; hence I am in doubt as to whether the 
 thinking nature which is in me, or rather which I myself 
 am, is different from that corporeal nature, or whether 
 both are merely one and the same thing, and I here sup- 
 pose that I am as yet ignorant of any reason that would 
 determine me to adopt the one belief in preference to 
 the other; whence it happens that it is a matter of per- 
 fect indifference to me which of the two suppositions I 
 affirm or deny, or whether I form any judgment at all 
 in the matter. 
 
OF TRUTH AND ERROR 
 
 255 
 
 This indifference, moreover, extends not only to things 
 of which the -understanding has no knowledge at all, but 
 in general also to all those which it does not discover 
 with perfect clearness at the moment the will is deliber- 
 ating upon them; for, however probable the conjectures 
 may be that dispose me to form a judgment in a partic- 
 ular matter, the simple knowledge that these are merely 
 conjectures, and not certain and indubitable reasons, is 
 sufficient to lead me to form one that is directly the op- 
 posite. Of this I lately had abundant experience, when 
 I laid aside as false all that I had before held for true, 
 on the single ground that I could in some degree doubt 
 of it. But if I abstain from judging of a thing when I 
 do not conceive it with sufficient clearness and distinctness, 
 it is plain that I act rightly, and am not deceived; but 
 if I resolve to deny or affirm, I then do not make a right 
 use of my free will ; and if I affirm what is false, it is evi- 
 dent that I am deceived; moreover, even although I 
 judge according to truth, I stumble upon it by chance, 
 and do not therefore escape the imputation of a wrong 
 use of my freedom; for it is a dictate of the nat- 
 ural light, that the knowledge of the understand- 
 ing ought always to precede the determination of the 
 will. 
 
 And it is this wrong use of the freedom of the will 
 in which is found the privation that constitutes the form 
 of error. Privation, I say, is found in the act, in so far 
 as it proceeds from myself, but it does not exist in the 
 faculty which I received from God, nor even in the act, in 
 so far as it depends on him ; for I have assuredly no reason 
 to complain that God has not given me a greater power of 
 intelligence or more perfect natural light than he has 
 actually bestowed, since it is of the nature of a finite 
 understanding not to comprehend many things, and of the 
 nature of a created understanding to be finite ; on the con- 
 trary, I have every reason to render thanks to God, who 
 owed me nothing, for having given me all the perfections 
 I possess, and I should be far from thinking that he has 
 unjustly deprived me of, or kept back, the other perfec- 
 tions which he has not bestowed upon me. 
 
 I have no reason, moreover, to complain because he 
 has given me a will more ample than my understanding, 
 since, as the will consists only of a single element, and 
 
256 
 
 MEDITATION IV 
 
 that indivisible, it would appear that this faculty is of 
 such a nature that nothing could be taken from it [with- 
 out 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. 
 
 And, finally, I ought not also to complain that God 
 concurs with me in forming the acts of this will, or the 
 judgments in which I am deceived, because those acts are 
 wholly true and good, in so far as they depend on God; 
 and the ability to form them is a higher degree of per- 
 fection in my nature than the want of it would be. 
 With regard to privation, in which alone consists the 
 formal reason of error and sin, this does not require the 
 concurrence of Deity, because it is not a thing [or exist- 
 ence], and if it be referred to God as to its cause, it 
 ought not to be called privation, but negation [accord- 
 ing to the signification of these words in the schools]. 
 For in truth it is no imperfection in Deity that he has 
 accorded to me the power of giving or withholding my 
 assent from certain things of which he has not put a 
 clear and distinct knowledge in my understanding; but 
 it is doubtless an imperfection in me that I do not use 
 my freedom aright, and readily give my judgment on 
 matters which I only obscurely and confusedly conceive. 
 
 I perceive, nevertheless, that it was easy for Deity so 
 to have constituted me as that I should never be de- 
 ceived, although I still remained free and possessed of a 
 limited knowledge, viz., by implanting in my understand- 
 ing a clear and distinct knowledge of all the objects 
 respecting which I should ever have to deliberate; or 
 simply by so deeply engraving on my memory the reso- 
 lution to judge of nothing without previously possessing 
 a clear and distinct conception of it, that I should never 
 forget it. And I easily understand that, in so far as I 
 consider myself as a single whole, without reference to 
 any other being in the universe, I should have been much 
 more perfect than I now am, had Deity created me 
 superior to error; but I cannot therefore deny that it is 
 not somehow a greater perfection in the universe, that 
 certain of its parts are not exempt from defect, as others 
 are, than if they were all perfectly alike. 
 
 And I have no right to complain because God, who 
 placed me in the world, was not willing that I should 
 
OF TRUTH AND ERROR 
 
 257 
 
 sustain that character which of all others is the chief and 
 most perfect ; I have even good reason to remain satisfied 
 on the ground that, if he has not given me the perfection 
 of being superior to error by the first means I have 
 pointed out above, which depends on a clear and evident 
 knowledge of all the matters regarding which I can 
 deliberate, he has at least left in my power the other 
 means, which is, firmly to retain the resolution never to 
 judge where the truth is not clearly known to me: for, 
 although I am conscious of the weakness of not being 
 able to keep my mind continually fixed on the same 
 thought, I can nevertheless, by attentive and oft-repeated 
 meditation, impress it so strongly on my memory that I 
 shall never fail to recollect it as often as I require it, 
 and I can acquire in this way the habitude of not erring; 
 and since it is in being superior to error that the highest 
 and chief perfection of man consists, I deem that I have 
 not gained little by this day’s meditation, in having dis- 
 covered the source of error and falsity. 
 
 And certainly this can be no other than what I have 
 now explained: 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 con- 
 ception 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 per- 
 fect, 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. Nor have 
 I merely learned to-day what I must avoid to escape 
 error, but also what I must do to arrive at the knowl- 
 edge of truth; for I will assuredly reach truth if I only 
 fix my attention sufficiently on all the things I conceive 
 perfectly, and separate these from others which I con- 
 ceive more confusedly and obscurely; to which for the 
 future I shall give diligent heed. 
 
 17 
 
MEDITATION V. 
 
 Of the Essence of Material Things; and, Again, of 
 God; That He Exists. 
 
 Several other questions remain for consideration re- 
 specting the attributes of God and my own nature or 
 mind. I will, however, on some other occasion perhaps 
 resume the investigation of these. Meanwhile, as I have 
 discovered what must be done and what avoided to arrive 
 at the knowledge of truth, what I have chiefly to do is 
 to essay to emerge from the state of doubt in which I 
 have for some time been, and to discover whether any- 
 thing can be known with certainty regarding material 
 objects. But before considering whether such objects as 
 I conceive exist without me, I must examine their ideas 
 in so far as these are to be found in my consciousness, 
 and discover which of them are distinct and which con- 
 fused. 
 
 In the first place, I distinctly imagine that quantity 
 which the philosophers commonly call continuous, or the 
 extension in length, breadth, and depth that is in this 
 quantity, or rather in the object to which it is attributed. 
 Further, I can enumerate in it many diverse parts, and 
 attribute to each of these all sorts of sizes, figures, situ- 
 ations, and local motions; and, in fine, I can assign to 
 each of these motions all degrees of duration. And I not 
 only distinctly know these things when I thus consider 
 them in general ; but besides, by a little attention, I dis- 
 cover innumerable particulars respecting figures, numbers, 
 motion, and the like, which are so evidently true, and 
 so accordant with my nature, that when I now discover 
 them I do not so much appear to learn anything new, as 
 to call to remembrance what I before knew, or for the 
 first time to remark what was before in my mind, but to 
 which I had not hitherto directed my attention. And what 
 I here find of most importance is, that I discover in my 
 mind innumerable ideas of certain objects, which cannot 
 be esteemed pure negations, although perhaps they possess 
 no reality beyond my thought, and which are not framed 
 by me though it may be in my power to think, or not to 
 (258) 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 259 
 
 think them, but possess true and immutable natures of 
 their own. As, for example, when I imagine a triangle, 
 although there is not perhaps and never was in any place 
 in the universe apart from my thought one such figure, it 
 remains true nevertheless that this figure possesses a cer- 
 tain determinate nature, form, or essence, which is immuta- 
 ble and eternal, and not framed by me, nor in any degree 
 dependent on my thought ; as appears from the circum- 
 stance, that diverse properties of the triangle may be 
 demonstrated, viz, that its three angles are equal to two 
 right, that its greatest side is subtended by its greatest 
 angle, and the like, which, whether I will or not, I now 
 clearly discern to belong to it, although before I did not 
 at all think of them, when, for the first time, I imagined 
 a triangle, and which accordingly cannot be said to have 
 been invented by me. Nor is it a valid objection to 
 allege, that perhaps this idea of a triangle came into 
 my mind by the medium of the senses, through my hav- 
 ing seen bodies of a triangular figure; for I am able to 
 form in thought an innumerable variety of figures with 
 regard to which it cannot be supposed that they were 
 ever objects of sense, and I can nevertheless demonstrate 
 diverse properties of their nature no less than of the 
 triangle, all of which are assuredly true since I clearly 
 conceive them: and they are therefore something, and 
 not mere negations ; for it is highly evident that all that 
 is true is something, [truth being identical with exist- 
 ence] ; and I have already fully shown the truth of the 
 principle, that whatever is clearly and distinctly 
 known is true. And although this had not been demon- 
 strated, yet the nature of my mind is such as to compel 
 me to assert to what I clearly conceive while I so con- 
 ceive it; and I recollect that even when I still strongly 
 adhered to the objects of sense, I reckoned among the num- 
 ber of the most certain truths those I clearly conceived 
 relating to figures, numbers, and other matters that per- 
 tain to arithmetic and geometry, and in general to the 
 pure mathematics. 
 
 But now if because I can draw from my thought the 
 idea of an object, it follows that all I clearly and dis- 
 tinctly apprehend to pertain to this object, does in truth 
 belong to it, may I not from this derive an argument 
 for the existence of God ? It is certain that I no less 
 
260 
 
 MEDITATION V 
 
 find the idea of a God in my consciousness, that 
 is the idea of a being supremely perfect, than that of 
 any figure or number whatever: and I know with not less 
 clearness and distinctness that an [actual and] eternal 
 existence pertains to his nature than that all which is 
 demonstrable of any figure or number really belongs to 
 the nature of that figure or number; and, therefore, al- 
 though all the conclusions of the preceding Meditations 
 were false, the existence of God would pass with me for 
 a truth at least as certain as I ever judged any truth of 
 mathematics to be, although indeed such a doctrine may 
 at first sight appear to contain more sophistry than truth. 
 For, as I have been accustomed in every other matter to 
 distinguish between existence and essence, I easily be- 
 lieve that the existence can be separated from the es- 
 sence of God, and that thus God may be conceived as 
 not actually existing. But, nevertheless, when I think of 
 it more attentively, it appears that the existence can no 
 more be separated from the essence of God, than the idea 
 of a mountain from that of a valley, or the equality of 
 its three angles to two right angles, from the essence of 
 a [rectilineal] triangle; so that it is not less impossible 
 to conceive a God, that is, a being supremely perfect, to 
 whom existence is awanting, or who is devoid of a certain 
 perfection, than to conceive a mountain without a valley. 
 
 But though, in truth, I cannot conceive a God unless 
 as existing, any more than I can a mountain without a 
 valley, yet, just as it does not follow that there is any 
 mountain in the world merely because I conceive a 
 mountain with a valley, so likewise, though I conceive 
 God as existing, it does not seem to follow on that 
 account that God exists; for my thought imposes no ne- 
 cessity on things ; and as I may imagine a winged horse, 
 though there be none such, so I could perhaps attribute 
 existence to God, though no God existed. But the cases 
 are not analogous, and a fallacy lurks under the sem- 
 blance of this objection: for because I cannot conceive a 
 mountain without a valley, it does not follow that there 
 is any mountain or valley in existence, but simply that 
 the mountain or valley, whether they do or do not exist, 
 are inseparable from each other; whereas, on the other 
 hand, because I cannot conceive God unless as existing, 
 ft follows that existence is inseparable from him, and 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 261 
 
 therefore that he really exists: not that this is brought 
 about by my thought, or that it imposes any necessity 
 on things, but, on the contrary, the necessity which lies 
 in the thing itself, that is, the necessity of the existence 
 of God, determines me to think in this way: for it is 
 not in my power to conceive a God without existence, 
 that is, a being supremely perfect, and yet devoid of an 
 absolute perfection, as I am free to imagine a horse with 
 or without wings. 
 
 Nor must it be alleged here as an objection, that it is 
 in truth necessary to admit that God exists, after having 
 supposed him to possess all perfections, since existence 
 is one of them, but that my original supposition was not 
 necessary; just as it is not necessary to think that all 
 quadrilateral figures can be inscribed in the circle, since, 
 if I supposed this, I should be constrained to admit that 
 the rhombus, being a figure of four sides, can be therein 
 inscribed, which, however, is manifestly false. This ob- 
 jection is, I say, incompetent; for although it may not 
 be necessary that I shall at any time entertain the no- 
 tion of Deity, yet each time I happen to think of a first 
 and sovereign being, and to draw, so to speak, the idea 
 of him from the storehouse of the mind, I am neces- 
 sitated to attribute to him all kinds of perfections, though 
 I may not then enumerate them all, nor think of each of 
 them in particular. And this necessity is sufficient, as 
 soon as I discover that existence is a perfection, to cause 
 me to infer the existence of this first and sovereign being; 
 just as it is not necessary that I should ever imagine 
 any triangle, but whenever I am desirous of considering 
 a rectilineal figure composed of only three angles, it is 
 absolutely necessary to attribute those properties to it 
 from which it is correctly inferred that its three angles 
 are not greater than two right angles, although perhaps 
 I may not then advert to this relation in particular. But 
 when I consider what figures are capable of being in- 
 scribed in the circle, it is by no means necessary to hold 
 that all quadrilateral figures are of this number; on the 
 contrary, I cannot even imagine such to be the case, so 
 long as I shall be unwilling to accept in thought aught 
 that I do not clearly and distinctly conceive; and con- 
 sequently there is a vast difference between false suppo- 
 sitions, as is the one in question, and the true ideas that 
 
262 
 
 MEDITATION V 
 
 were born with me, the first and chief of which is the 
 idea of God. For indeed I discern on many grounds that 
 this idea is not factitious depending simply on my 
 thought, but that it is the representation of a true and 
 immutable nature: in the first place because I can con- 
 ceive no other being, except God, to whose essence exist- 
 ence [necessarily] pertains; in the second, because it is 
 impossible to conceive two or more gods of this kind ; and 
 it being supposed that one such God exists, I clearly see 
 that he must have existed from all eternity, and will 
 exist to all eternity; and finally, because I apprehend 
 many other properties in God, none of which I can 
 either diminish or change. 
 
 But, indeed, whatever mode of probation I in the end 
 adopt, it always returns to this, that it is only the things 
 I clearly and distinctly conceive which have the power 
 of completely persuading me. And although, of the 
 objects I conceive in this manner, some, indeed, are 
 obvious to every one, while others are only discovered 
 after close and careful investigation; nevertheless after 
 they are once discovered, the latter are not esteemed 
 less certain than the former. Thus, for example, to take 
 the case of a right-angled triangle, although it is not so 
 manifest at first that the square of the base is equal to 
 the squares of the other two sides, as that the base is 
 opposite to the greatest angle; nevertheless, after it is 
 once apprehended, we are as firmly persuaded of the 
 truth of the former as of the latter. And, with respect 
 to God if I were not pre-occupied by prejudices, and my 
 thought beset on all sides by the continual presence of 
 the images of sensible objects, I should know nothing 
 sooner or more easily than the fact of his being. For 
 is there any truth more clear than the existence of a 
 Supreme Being, or of God, seeing it is to his essence 
 alone that [necessary and eternal] existence pertains 
 And although the right conception of this truth has cost 
 me much close thinking, nevertheless at present I feel 
 not only as assured of it as of what I deem most cer- 
 tain, but I remark further that the certitude of all other 
 truths is so absolutely dependent on it, that without this 
 knowledge it is impossible ever to know anything perfectly. 
 
 For although I am of such a nature as to be unable, 
 while I possess a very clear and distinct apprehension of 
 
OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 263 
 
 a matter, to resist the conviction of its truth, yet because 
 my constitution is also such as to incapacitate me from 
 keeping my mind continually fixed on the same object, 
 and as I frequently recollect a past judgment without at 
 the same time being able to recall the grounds of it, it 
 may happen meanwhile that other reasons are presented 
 to me which would readily cause me to change my opin- 
 ion, if I did not know that God existed; and thus I should 
 possess no true and certain knowledge, but merely vague 
 and vacillating opinions. Thus, for example, when I con- 
 sider the nature of the [rectilineal] triangle, it most clearly 
 appears to me, who have been instructed in the principles 
 of geometry, that its three angles are equal to two right 
 angles, and I find it impossible to believe otherwise, while 
 I apply my mind to the demonstration; but as soon as I 
 cease from attending to the process of proof, although I 
 still remember that I had a clear comprehension of it, yet 
 I may readily come to doubt of the truth demonstrated, if 
 I do not know that there is a God: for I may persuade 
 myself that I have been so constituted by nature as to be 
 sometimes deceived, even in matters which I think I 
 apprehend with the greatest evidence and certitude, espe- 
 cially when I recollect that I frequently considered many 
 things to be true and certain which other reasons after- 
 ward constrained me to reckon as wholly false. 
 
 But after I have discovered that God exists, seeing I 
 also at the same time observed that all things depend on 
 him, and that he is no deceiver, and thence inferred that 
 all which I clearly and distinctly perceive is of necessity 
 true : although I no longer attend to the grounds of a 
 judgment, no opposite reason can be alleged sufficient to 
 lead me to doubt of its truth, provided only I remember 
 that I once possessed a clear and distinct comprehension 
 of it. My knowledge of it thus becomes true and cer- 
 tain. And this same knowledge extends likewise to what- 
 ever I remember to have formerly demonstrated, as the 
 truths of geometry and the like : for what can be alleged 
 against them to lead me to doubt of them ? Will it be that 
 my nature is such that I may be frequently deceived ? 
 But I already know that I cannot be deceived in judg- 
 ments of the grounds of which I possess a clear knowl- 
 edge. Will it be that I formerly deemed things to be 
 true and certain which I afterward discovered to be 
 
264 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 false ? But I had no clear and distinct knowledge of any 
 of those things, and, being as yet ignorant of the rule by 
 which I am assured of the truth of a judgment, I was 
 led to give my assent to them on grounds which I af- 
 terward discovered were less strong than at the time I 
 imagined them to be. What further objection, then, is 
 there? Will it be said that perhaps I am dreaming (an 
 objection I lately myself raised), or that all the thoughts 
 of which I am now conscious have no more truth than 
 the reveries of my dreams ? But although, in truth, I 
 should be dreaming, the rule still holds that all which 
 is clearly presented to my intellect is indisputably true. 
 
 And thus I very clearly see that the certitude and 
 truth of all science depends on the knowledge alone of 
 the true God, insomuch 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 respecting innumerable matters, as 
 well relative to God himself and other intellectual ob- 
 jects as to corporeal nature, in so far as it is the object 
 of pure mathematics [which do not consider whether it 
 exists or not]. 
 
 MEDITATION VI. 
 
 Of the Existence of Material Things, and of the 
 Real Distinction Between the Mind 
 and Body of Man. 
 
 There now only remains the inquiry as to whether 
 material things exist. With regard to this question, I at 
 least know with certainty that such things may exist, in 
 as far as they constitute the object of the pure mathe- 
 matics, since, regarding them in this aspect, I can con- 
 ceive them clearly and distinctly. For there can be no 
 doubt that God possesses the power of producing all the 
 objects I am able distinctly to conceive, and I never 
 considered anything impossible to him, unless when I 
 experienced a contradiction in the attempt to conceive it 
 aright. Further, the faculty of imagination which I pos- 
 sess, and of which I am conscious that I make use when 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 265 
 
 I apply myself to the consideration of material things, is 
 sufficient to persuade me of their existence: for, when I 
 attentively consider what imagination is, I find that it is 
 simply a certain application of the cognitive faculty 
 ( facultas cognoscitiva ) to a body which is immediately 
 present to it, and which therefore exists. 
 
 And to render this quite clear, I remark, in the first 
 place, the difference that subsists between imagination 
 and pure intellection [ or conception ]. For example, 
 when I imagine a triangle I not only conceive ( intelligo ) 
 that it is a figure comprehended by three lines, but at 
 the same time also I look upon ( intueor ) these three 
 lines as present by the power and internal application of 
 my mind (acie mentis), and this is what I call imagining. 
 But if I desire to think of a chiliogon, I indeed rightly 
 conceive that it is a figure composed of a thousand sides, 
 as easily as I conceive that a triangle is a figure com- 
 posed of only three sides; but I cannot imagine the 
 thousand sides of a chiliogon as I do the three sides of 
 a triangle, nor, so to speak, view them as present [with 
 the eyes of my mind ]. And although, in accordance 
 with the habit I have of always imagining something 
 when I think of corporeal things, it may happen that, in 
 conceiving a chiliogon, I confusedly represent some figure 
 to myself, yet it is quite evident that this is not a chiliogon, 
 since it in no wise differs from that which I would rep- 
 resent to myself, if I were to think of a myriogon, or 
 any other figure of many sides; nor would this represen- 
 tation be of any use in discovering and unfolding the 
 properties that constitute the difference between a chiliogon 
 and other polygons. But if the question turns on a pen- 
 tagon, it is quite true that I can conceive its figure, as 
 well as that of a chiliogon, without the aid of imagina- 
 tion; but I can likewise imagine it by applying the at- 
 tention of my mind to its five sides, and at the same 
 time to the area which they contain. Thus I observe 
 that a special effort of mind is necessary to the act of 
 imagination, which is not required to conceiving or un- 
 derstanding ( ad intelligendum ) ; and this special exertion 
 of mind clearly shows the difference between imagination 
 and pure intellection ( imaginatio et intellectio pur a). I 
 remark, besides, that this power of imagination which I 
 possess, in as far as it differs from the power of conceiv- 
 
266 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 ing, is in no way necessary to my [nature or] essence, 
 that is, to the essence of my mind; for although I did 
 not possess it, I should still remain the same that I now 
 am, from which it seems we may conclude that it depends 
 on something different from the mind. And I easily 
 understand that, if some body exists, with which my mind 
 is so conjoined and united as to be able, as it were, to 
 consider it when it chooses, it may thus imagine corpo- 
 real objects; so that this mode of thinking differs from 
 pure intellection only in this respect, that the mind in 
 conceiving turns in some way upon itself, and considers 
 some one of the ideas it possesses within itself; but in 
 imagining it turns toward the body, and contemplates 
 in it some object conformed to the idea which it either 
 of itself conceived or apprehended by sense. I easily 
 understand, I say, that imagination may be thus formed, 
 if it is true that there are bodies; and because I find no 
 other obvious mode of explaining it, I thence, with prob- 
 ability, conjecture that they exist, but only with probability; 
 and although I carefully examine all things, nevertheless 
 I do not find that, from the distinct idea of corporeal 
 nature I have in my imagination, I can necessarily infer 
 the existence of any body. 
 
 But I am accustomed to imagine many other objects 
 besides that corporeal nature which is the object of the 
 pure mathematics, as, for example, colors, sounds, tastes, 
 pain, and the like, although with less distinctness; and, 
 inasmuch as I perceive these objects much better by the 
 senses, through the medium of which and of memory, 
 they seem to have reached the imagination, I believe 
 that, in order the more advantageously to examine them, 
 it is proper I should at the same time examine what 
 sense-perception is, and inquire whether from those ideas 
 that are apprehended by this mode of thinking ( conscious- 
 ness), I cannot obtain a certain proof of the existence of 
 corporeal objects. 
 
 And, in the first place, I will recall to my mind the 
 things I have hitherto held as true, because perceived by 
 the senses, and the foundations upon which my belief in 
 their truth rested; I will, in the second place, examine 
 the reasons that afterward constrained me to doubt of 
 them; and, finally, I will consider what of them I ought 
 now to believe. 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 267 
 
 Firstly, then, I perceived that I had a head, hands, feet, 
 and other members composing that body which I consid- 
 ered as part, or perhaps even as the whole, of myself. I 
 perceived further, that that body was placed among many 
 others, by which it was capable of being affected in diverse 
 ways, both beneficial and hurtful ; and what was beneficial 
 I remarked by a certain sensation of pleasure, and what 
 was hurtful by a sensation of pain. And besides this 
 pleasure and pain, I was likewise conscious of hunger, 
 thirst, and other appetites, as well as certain corporeal 
 inclinations toward joy, sadness, anger, and similar pas- 
 sions. And, out of myself, besides the extension, figure, 
 and motions of bodies, I likewise perceived in them hard- 
 ness, heat, and the other tactile qualities, and, in addi- 
 tion, light, colors, odors, tastes, and sounds, the variety 
 of which gave me the means of distinguishing the sky, 
 the earth, the sea, and generally all the other bodies, 
 from one another. And certainly, considering the ideaSTj 
 of all these qualities, which were presented to my mind, 
 and which alone I properly and immediately perceived, it 
 was not without reason that I thought I perceived cer- 
 tain objects wholly different from my thought, namely, 
 bodies from which those ideas proceeded; for I was con- 
 scious that the ideas were presented to me without my 
 consent being required, so that I could not perceive any 
 object, however desirous I might be, unless it were pres- 
 ent to the organ of sense; and it was wholly out of my 
 power not to perceive it when it was thus present. And 
 because the ideas I perceived by the senses were much 
 more lively and clear, and even, in their own way, more 
 distinct than any of those I could of myself frame by 
 meditation, or which I found impressed on my memory, 
 it seemed that they could not have proceeded from myself, 
 and must therefore have been caused in me by some 
 other objects; and as of those objects I had no knowl- 
 edge beyond what the ideas themselves gave me, noth- 
 ing was so likely to occur to my mind as the supposition 
 that the objects were similar to the ideas which they 
 caused. And because I recollected also that I had for- 
 merly trusted to the senses, rather than to reason, and 
 that the ideas which I myself formed were not so clear 
 'as those I perceived by sense, and that they were even 
 for the most part composed of parts of the latter, I was 
 
268 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 
 readily persuaded that I had no idea in my intellect which 
 had not formerly passed through the senses. Nor was I 
 altogether wrong in likewise believing that that body 
 which, by a special right, I called my own, pertained to 
 me more properly and strictly than any of the others; 
 for in truth, I could never be separated from it as from 
 other bodies; I felt in it and on account of it all my 
 appetites and affections, and in fine I was affected in 
 its parts by pain and the titillation of pleasure, and not 
 in the parts of the other bodies that were separated from 
 it. But when I inquired into the reason why, from this 
 I know not what sensation of pain, sadness of mind should 
 follow, and why from the sensation of pleasure, joy should 
 arise, or why this indescribable twitching of the stomach, 
 which I call hunger, should put me in mind of taking 
 food, and the parchedness of the throat of drink, and so 
 in other cases, I was unable to give any explanation, un- 
 less that I was so taught by nature ; for there is assuredly 
 no affinity, at least none that I am able to comprehend, 
 between this irritation of the stomach and the desire of 
 food, any more than between the perception of an object 
 that causes pain and the consciousness of sadness which 
 springs from the perception. And in the same way it 
 seemed to me that all the other judgments I had formed 
 regarding the objects of sense, were dictates of nature; 
 because I remarked that those judgments were formed in 
 me, before I had leisure to weigh and consider the rea- 
 sons that might constrain me to form them. 
 
 But, afterward, a wide experience by degrees sapped 
 the faith I had reposed in my senses; for I frequently 
 observed that towers, which at a distance seemed round, 
 appeared square, when more closely viewed, and that 
 colossal figures, raised on the summits of these towers, 
 looked like small statues, when viewed from the bottom of 
 them; and, in other instances without number, I also 
 discovered error in judgments founded on the external 
 senses; and not only in those founded on the external, 
 but even in those that rested on the internal senses; for 
 is there aught more internal than pain ? And yet I have 
 sometimes been informed by parties whose arm or leg 
 had been amputated, that they still occasionally seemed 
 to feel pain in that part of the body which they had lost, 
 — a circumstance that led me to think that I could not be 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 269 
 
 quite certain even that any one of my members was affected 
 when I felt pain in it. And to these grounds of doubt 
 I shortly afterward also added two others of very wide 
 generality: the first of them was that I believed I never 
 perceived anything when awake which I could not occa- 
 sionally think I also perceived when asleep, and as I do 
 not believe that the ideas I seem to perceive in my sleep 
 proceed' from objects external to me, I did not anymore 
 observe any ground for believing this of such as I seem 
 to perceive when awake ; the second was that since I was 
 as yet ignorant of the author of 'my being or at least sup- 
 posed myself to be so, I saw nothing to prevent my having 
 been so constituted by nature as that I should be deceived 
 even in matters that appeared to me to possess the greatest 
 truth. And, with respect to the grounds on which I had 
 before been persuaded of the existence of sensible objects, 
 I had no great difficulty in finding suitable answers to 
 them ; for as nature seemed to incline me to many 
 things from which reason made me averse, I thought 
 that I ought not to confide much in its teachings. And 
 although the perceptions of the senses were not dependent 
 on my will, I did not think that I ought on that ground 
 to conclude that they proceeded from things different 
 from myself, since perhaps there might be found in me 
 some faculty, though hitherto unknown to me, which 
 produced them. 
 
 But now that I begin to know myself better, and to 
 discover more clearly the author of my being, I do 
 not, indeed, think that I ought rashly to admit all 
 which the senses seem to teach, nor, on the other hand, 
 is it my conviction that I ought to doubt in general of 
 their teachings. 
 
 And, firstly, because I know that all which I clearly 
 and distinctly conceive can be produced by God exactly 
 as I conceive it, it is sufficient that I am able clearly and 
 distinctly to conceive one thing apart from another, in 
 order to be certain that the one is different from the 
 other, seeing they may at least be made to exist sep- 
 arately, by the omnipotence of God; and it matters not 
 by what power this separation is made, in order to be 
 compelled to judge them different ; and, therefore, merely 
 because I know with certitude that I exist, and because, 
 in the meantime, I do not observe that aught necessarily 
 
270 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 belongs to my nature or essence beyond my being a 
 thinking thing, I rightly conclude that my essence con- 
 sists only in my being a thinking thing [or a substance 
 whose whole essence or nature is merely thinking]. 
 And although I may, or rather, as I will shortly say, al- 
 though I certainly do possess a body with which I am very 
 closely conjoined; nevertheless, because, on the one hand, 
 I have a clear and distinct idea of myself, in as far as I 
 am only a thinking and unextended thing, and as, on the 
 other hand, I possess a distinct idea of body, in as far 
 as it is only an extended and unthinking thing, it is cer- 
 tain that I, [that is, my mind, by which I am what I 
 am], is entirely and truly distinct from my body, and 
 may exist without it. 
 
 Moreover, I find in myself diverse faculties of thinking 
 that have each their special mode: for example, I find I 
 possess the faculties of imagining and perceiving, without 
 which I can indeed clearly and distinctly conceive myself 
 as entire, but I cannot reciprocally conceive them without 
 conceiving myself, that is to say, without an intelligent 
 substance in which they reside, for [in the notion we have 
 of them, or to use the terms of the schools] in their formal 
 concept, they comprise some sort of intellection; whence 
 I perceive that they are distinct from myself as modes 
 are from things. I remark likewise certain other faculties, 
 as the power of changing place, of assuming diverse 
 figures, and the like, that cannot be conceived and cannot 
 therefore exist, any more than the preceding, apart from 
 a substance in which they inhere. It is very evident, 
 however, that these faculties, if they really exist, must be- 
 long to some corporeal or extended substance, since in 
 their clear and distinct concept there is contained some 
 sort of extension, but no intellection at all. Further, I 
 cannot doubt but that there is in me a certain passive 
 faculty of perception, that is, of receiving and taking 
 knowledge of the ideas of sensible things; but this would 
 be useless to me, if there did not also exist in me, or in 
 some other thing, another active faculty capable of form- 
 ing and producing those ideas. But this active faculty 
 cannot be in me [in as far as I am but a thinking thing], 
 seeing that it does not presuppose thought, and also that 
 those ideas are frequently produced in my mind without 
 my contributing to it in any way, and even frequently 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 
 
 271 
 
 contrary to my will. This faculty must therefore exist in ' 
 some substance different from me, in which all the objec- 
 tive reality of the ideas that are produced by this faculty, 
 is contained formally or eminently, as I before remarked : 
 and this substance is either a body, that is to say, a cor- 
 poreal nature in which is contained formally [and in effect] 
 all that is objectively [and by representation] in those 
 ideas; or it is God himself, or some other creature, of a 
 rank superior to body, in which the same is contained 
 eminently. But as God is no deceiver, it is manifest that 
 he does not of himself and immediately communicate those 
 ideas to me, nor even by the intervention of any creature 
 in which their objective reality is not formally, but only 
 eminently, contained. For as he has given me no faculty 
 whereby I can discover this to be the case, but, on the 
 contrary, a very strong inclination to believe that those 
 ideas arise from corporeal objects, I do not see how he 
 could be vindicated from the charge of deceit, if in truth 
 they proceeded from any other source, or were produced 
 by other causes than corporeal things : and accordingly it 
 must be concluded, that corporeal objects exist. Never- 
 theless, they are not perhaps exactly such as we perceive 
 by the senses, for their comprehension by the senses is, 
 in many instances, very obscure and confused ; but it is at 
 least necessary to admit that all which I clearly and dis- 
 tinctly conceive as in them, that is, generally speaking, 
 all that is comprehended in the object of speculative 
 geometry, really exists external to me. 
 
 But with respect to other things which are either only 
 particular, as, for example, that the sun is of such a size 
 and figure, etc., or are conceived with less clearness and 
 distinctness, as light, sound, pain, and the like, although 
 they are highly dubious and uncertain, nevertheless on 
 the ground alone that God is no deceiver, and that con- 
 sequently he has permitted no falsity in my opinions 
 which he has not likewise given me a faculty of correcting, 
 
 I think I may with safety conclude that I possess in myself 
 the means of arriving at the truth. And, in the first 
 place, it cannot be doubted that in each of the dictates 
 of nature there is some truth: for by nature, considered 
 in general, I now understand nothing more than God 
 himself, or the order and disposition established by God 
 in created things; and by my nature in particular I 
 
272 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 understand the assemblage of all that God has given 
 me. 
 
 But there is nothing which that nature teaches me more 
 expressly [or more sensibly] than that I have a body 
 which is ill affected when I feel pain, and stands in need 
 of food and drink when I experience the sensations of 
 hunger and thirst, etc. And therefore I ought not to 
 doubt but that there is some truth in these informations. 
 
 Nature likewise teaches me by these sensations of pain, 
 hunger, thirst, etc., that I am not only lodged in my 
 body as a pilot in a vessel, but that I am besides so 
 intimately conjoined, and as it were intermixed with it, 
 that my mind and body compose a certain unity. For 
 if this were not the case, I should not feel pain when 
 my body is hurt, seeing I am merely a thinking thing, 
 but should perceive the wound by the understanding 
 alone, just as a pilot perceives by sight when any part 
 of his vessel is damaged; and when my body has need 
 of food or drink, I should have a clear knowledge of 
 this, and not be made aware of it by the confused sen- 
 sations of hunger and thirst: for, in truth, all these sen- 
 sations of hunger, thirst, pain, etc., are nothing more 
 than certain confused modes of thinking, arising from 
 the union and apparent fusion of mind and body. 
 
 Besides this, nature teaches me that my own body is 
 surrounded by many other bodies, some of which I have 
 to seek after, and others to shun. And indeed, as I per- 
 ceive different sorts of colors, sounds, odors, tastes, heat, 
 hardness, etc., I safely conclude that there are in the 
 bodies from which the diverse perceptions of the senses 
 proceed, certain varieties corresponding to them, although, 
 perhaps, not in reality like them; and since, among these 
 diverse perceptions of the senses, some are agreeable, 
 and others disagreeable, there can be no doubt that my 
 body, or rather my entire self, in as far as I am com- 
 posed of body and mind, may be variously affected, both 
 beneficially and hurtfully, by surrounding bodies. 
 
 But there are many other beliefs which though seem- 
 ingly the teaching of nature, are not in reality so, but 
 which obtained a place in my mind through a habit of 
 judging inconsiderately of things. It may thus easily 
 happen that such judgments shall contain error: thus, for 
 example, the opinion I have that all space in which 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 
 
 273 
 
 there is nothing to affect [or make an impression on] 
 my senses is void; that in a hot body there is something 
 in every respect similar to the idea of heat in my mind; 
 that in a white or green body there is the same white- 
 ness or greenness which I perceive; that in a bitter or 
 sweet body there is the same taste, and so in other 
 instances; that the stars, towers, and all distant bodies, 
 are of the same size and figure as they appear to our 
 eyes, etc. But that I may avoid everything like indis- 
 tinctness of conception, I must accurately define what I 
 properly understand by being taught by nature. For 
 nature is here taken in a narrower sense than when it 
 signifies the sum of all the things which God has given 
 me ; seeing that in that meaning the notion comprehends 
 much that belongs only to the mind [to which I am not 
 here to be understood as referring when I use the term 
 nature ] ; as, for example, the notion I have of the truth, 
 that what is done cannot be undone, and all the other 
 truths I discern by the natural light [ without the aid 
 of the body ] ; and seeing that it comprehends likewise 
 much besides that belongs only to body, and is not 
 here any more contained under the name nature, as the 
 quality of heaviness, and the like, of which I do not 
 speak, the term being reserved exclusively to designate 
 the things which God has given to me as a being com- 
 posed of mind and body. But nature, taking the term in 
 the sense explained, teaches me to shun what causes in 
 me the sensation of pain, and to pursue what affords me 
 the sensati ti of pleasure, and other things of this sort; 
 but I do 1 c i discover that it teaches me, in addition to 
 this, from these diverse perceptions of the senses, to 
 draw any conclusions respecting external objects without 
 a previous [ careful and mature ] consideration of them 
 by the mind: for it is, as appears to me, the office of the 
 mind alone, and not of the composite whole of mind and 
 body, to discern the truth in those matters. Thus, although 
 the impression a star makes on my eye is not larger 
 than that from the flame of a candle, I do not, never- 
 theless, experience any real or positive impulse determin- 
 ing me to believe that the star is not greater than the 
 flame; the true account of the matter being merely that 
 I have so judged from my youth without any rational 
 ground. And, though on approaching the fire I feel 
 18 
 
 i 
 
274 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 heat, and even pain on approaching it too closely, I have, 
 however, from this no ground for holding that something 
 resembling the heat I feel is in the fire, any more than 
 that there is something similar to the pain; all that 
 I have ground for believing is, that there is something 
 in it, whatever it may be, which excites in me those sen- 
 sations of heat or pain. So also, although there are spaces 
 in which I find nothing to excite and affect my senses, 
 I must not therefore conclude that those spaces contain 
 in them no body; for I see that in this, as in many other 
 similar matters, I have been accustomed to pervert the 
 order of nature, because these perceptions of the senses, 
 although given me by nature merely to signify to my 
 mind what things are beneficial and hurtful to the com- 
 posite whole of which it is a part, and being sufficiently 
 clear and distinct for that purpose, are nevertheless used 
 by me as infallible rules by which to determine imme- 
 diately the essence of the bodies that exist out of me, of 
 which they can of course afford me only the most obscure 
 and confused knowledge. 
 
 But I have already sufficiently considered how it hap- 
 pens that, notwithstanding the supreme goodness of God, 
 there is falsity in my judgments. A difficulty, however, 
 here presents itself, respecting the things which I am 
 taught by nature must be pursued or avoided, and also 
 respecting the internal sensations in which I seem to 
 have occasionally detected error, [ and thus to be directly 
 deceived by nature]: thus, for example, I may be so 
 deceived by the agreeable taste of some viand with which 
 poison has been mixed, as to be induced to take the 
 poison. In this case, however, nature may be excused, 
 for it simply leads me to desire the viand for its agree- 
 able taste, and not the poison, which is unknown to it; 
 and thus we can infer nothing from this circumstance 
 beyond that our nature is not omniscient; at which there 
 is assuredly no ground for surprise, since, man being of 
 a finite nature, his knowledge must likewise be of a 
 limited perfection. But we also not unfrequently err in 
 that to which we are directly impelled by nature, as is 
 the case with invalids who desire drink or food that would 
 be hurtful to them. It will here, perhaps, be alleged 
 that the reason why such persons are deceived is that 
 their nature is corrupted; but this leaves the difficulty 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 
 
 275 
 
 untouched, for a sick man is not less really the creature 
 of God than a man who is in full health; and therefore 
 it is as repugnant to the goodness of God that the nature 
 of the former should be deceitful as it is for that of the 
 latter to be so. And as a clock, composed of wheels 
 and counter weights, observes not the less accurately all 
 the laws of nature when it is ill made, and points out 
 the hours incorrectly, than when it satisfies the desire of 
 the maker in every respect; so likewise if the body of 
 man be considered as a kind of machine, so made up 
 and composed of bones, nerves, muscles, veins, blood, 
 and skin, that although there were in it no mind, it 
 would still exhibit the same motions which it at present 
 manifests involuntarily, and therefore without the aid of 
 the mind, [and simply by the dispositions of its organs], 
 I easily discern that it would also be as natural for such a 
 body, supposing it dropsical, for example, to experience 
 the parchedness of the throat that is usually accompanied 
 in the mind by the sensation of thirst, and to be dis- 
 posed by this parchedness to move its nerves and its 
 other parts in the way required for drinking, and thus 
 increase its malady and do itself harm, as it is natural for 
 it, when it is not indisposed to be stimulated to drink 
 for its good by a similar cause; and although looking to 
 the use for which a clock was destined by its maker, I 
 may say that it is deflected from its proper nature when 
 it incorrectly indicates the hours, and on the same prin- 
 ciple, considering the machine of the human body as 
 having been formed by God for the sake of the motions 
 which it usually manifests, although I may likewise have 
 ground for thinking that it does not follow the order of 
 its nature when the throat is parched and drink does 
 not tend to its preservation, nevertheless I yet plainly 
 discern that this latter acceptation of the term nature is 
 very different from the other: for this is nothing more 
 than a certain denomination, depending entirely on my 
 thought, and hence called extrinsic, by which I compare 
 a sick man and an imperfectly constructed clock with 
 the idea I have of a man in good health and a well made 
 clock; while by the other acceptation of nature is under- 
 stood something which is truly found in things, and 
 therefore possessed of some truth. 
 
 But certainly, although in respect of a dropsical body, 
 
276 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 it is only by way of exterior denomination that we say its 
 nature is corrupted, when, without requiring drink, the 
 throat is parched; yet, in respect of the composite whole, 
 that is, of the mind in its union with the body, it is not 
 a pure denomination, but really an error of nature, for 
 » it to feel thirst when drink would be hurtful to it: and, 
 accordingly, it still remains to be considered why it is 
 that the goodness of God does not prevent the nature of 
 man thus taken from being fallacious. 
 
 To commence this examination accordingly, I here 
 remark, in the first place, that there is a vast difference 
 between mind and body, in respect that body, from its 
 nature, is always divisible, and that mind is entirely in- 
 divisible. For in truth, when I consider the mind, that 
 is, when I consider myself in so far only as I am a think- 
 ing thing, I can distinguish in myself no parts, but I 
 very clearly discern that I am somewhat absolutely one 
 and entire; and although the whole mind seems to be 
 united to the whole body, yet, when a foot, an arm, or 
 any other part is cut off, I am conscious that nothing 
 has been taken from my mind; nor can the faculties of 
 willing, perceiving, conceiving, etc., properly be called 
 its parts, for it is the same mind that is exercised [all 
 entire] in willing, in perceiving, and in conceiving, etc. 
 ‘But quite the opposite holds in corporeal or extended 
 things ; for I cannot imagine any one of them [how small 
 soever it may be], which I cannot easily sunder in thought, 
 and which, therefore, I do not know to be divisible. 
 This would be sufficient to teach me that the mind or soul 
 of man is entirely different from the body, if I had not 
 already been apprised of it on other grounds. 
 
 I remark, in the next place, that the mind does not 
 immediately receive the impression from all the parts of 
 the body, but only from the brain, or perhaps even from 
 one small part of it, viz, that in which the common sense 
 ( sensus communis ) is said to be, which as bften as ft is 
 affected in the same way gives rise to the same percep- 
 tion in the mind, although meanwhile the other parts of 
 the body may be diversely disposed, as is proved by in- 
 numerable experiments, which it is unnecessary here to 
 enumerate. 
 
 I remark, besides, that the nature of body is sucl 
 that none of its parts can be moved by another part ; 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 
 
 277 
 
 little removed from the other, which cannot likewise be 
 moved in the same way by any one of the parts that lie 
 between those two, although the most remote part does 
 not act at all. As, for example, in the cord a, b, c, d, 
 [which is in tension], if its last part d, be pulled, the 
 first part a, will not be moved in a different way than it 
 would be were one of the intermediate parts b or c to be 
 pulled, and the last part d meanwhile to remain fixed. 
 And in the same way, when I feel pain in the foot, the 
 science of physics teaches me that this sensation is 
 experienced by means of the nerves dispersed over the 
 foot, which, extending like cords from it to the brain, 
 when they are contracted in the foot, contract at the 
 same time the inmost parts of the brain in which they 
 have their origin, and excite in these parts a certain mo- 
 tion appointed by nature to cause in the mind a sensa- 
 tion of pain, as if existing in the foot ; but as these nerves 
 must pass through the tibia, the leg, the loins, the back, 
 and neck, in order to reach the brain, it may happen 
 that although their extremities in the foot are not affected, 
 but only certain of their parts that pass through the loins 
 or neck, the same movements, nevertheless, are excited 
 in the brain by this motion as would have been caused 
 there by a hurt received in the foot, and hence the mind 
 will necessarily feel pain in the foot, just as if it had 
 been hurt; and the same is true of all the other percep- 
 tions of our senses. 
 
 I remark, finally, that as each of the movements that 
 are made in the part of the brain by which the mind is 
 immediately affected, impresses it with but a single sen- 
 sation, the most likely supposition in the circumstances 
 is, that this movement causes the mind to experience, 
 among all the sensations which it is capable of impress- 
 ing upon it, that one which is the best fitted, and gen- 
 erally the most useful for the preservation of the human 
 body when it is in full health. But experience shows 
 us that all the perceptions which nature has given us 
 are of such a kind as I have mentioned ; and accordingly, 
 there is nothing found in them that does not manifest 
 the power and goodness of God. Thus, for example, 
 when the nerves of the foot are violently or more than 
 usually shaken, the motion passing through the medulla 
 of the spine to the innermost parts of the brain affords 
 
278 
 
 MEDITATION VI 
 
 a sign to the mind on which it experiences a sensation, 
 viz., of pain, as if it were in the foot, by which the 
 mind is admonished and excited to do its utmost to re- 
 move the cause of it as dangerous and hurtful to the 
 foot. It is true that God could have so constituted the 
 nature of man as that the same motion in the brain 
 would have informed the mind of something altogether 
 different: the motion might, for example, have been the 
 occasion on which the mind became conscious of itself, 
 in so far as it is in the brain, or in so far as it is in 
 some place intermediate between the foot and the brain, 
 or, finally, the occasion on which it perceived some 
 other object quite different, whatever that might be; 
 but nothing of all this would have so well contributed 
 to the preservation of the body as that which the mind 
 actually feels. In the same way, when we stand in 
 need of drink, there arises from this want a certain 
 parchedness in the throat that moves its nerves, and by 
 means of them the internal parts of the brain; and this 
 movement affects the mind with the sensation of thirst, 
 because there is nothing on that occasion which is more 
 useful for us than to be made aware that we have need 
 of drink for the preservation of our health; and so in 
 other instances. 
 
 Whence it is quite manifest that, notwithstanding the 
 sovereign goodness of God, the nature of man, in so far 
 as it is composed of mind and body, cannot but be some- 
 times fallacious. For, if there is any cause which excites, 
 not in the foot, but in some one of the parts of the nerves 
 that stretch from the foot to the brain, or even in the 
 brain itself, the same movement that is ordinarily created 
 when the foot is ill affected, pain will be felt, as it were, 
 in the foot, and the sense will thus be naturally deceived; 
 for as the same movement in the brain can but impress 
 the mind with the same sensation, and as this sensation 
 is much more frequently excited by a cause which hurts 
 the foot than by one acting in a different quarter, it is 
 reasonable that it should lead the mind to feel pain in 
 the foot rather than in any other part of the body. And 
 if it sometimes happens that the parchedness of the 
 throat does not arise, as is usual, from drink being neces- 
 sary for the health of the body, but from quite the oppo- 
 site cause, as is the case with the dropsical, yet it is 
 
EXISTENCE OF MATERIAL THINGS, ETC. 279 
 
 much better that it should be deceitful in that instance, 
 than if, on the contrary, it were continually fallacious 
 when the body is well-disposed; and the same holds true 
 in other cases. 
 
 And certainly this consideration is of great service, not 
 only in enabling me to recognize the errors to which my 
 nature is liable, but likewise in rendering it more easy 
 to avoid or correct them : for, knowing that all my senses 
 more usually indicate to me what is true than what is 
 false, in matters relating to the advantage of the body, 
 and being able almost always to make use of more than 
 a single sense in examining the same object, and besides 
 this, being able to use my memory in connecting present 
 with past knowledge, and my understanding which has 
 already discovered all the causes of my errors, I ought 
 no longer to fear that falsity may be met with in what 
 is daily presented to me by the senses. And I ought to 
 reject all the doubts of those bygone days, as hyper- 
 bolical and ridiculous, especially the general uncertainty 
 respecting sleep, which I could not distinguish from the 
 waking state: for I now find a very marked difference 
 between the two states, in respect that our memory can 
 never connect our dreams with each other and with the 
 course of life, in the way it is in the habit of doing 
 with events that occur when we are awake. And, in 
 truth, if some one, when I am awake, appeared to me 
 all of a sudden and as suddenly disappeared, as do the 
 images I see in sleep, so that I could not observe either 
 whence he came or whither he went, I should not with- 
 out reason esteem it either a specter or phantom formed 
 in my brain, rather than a real man. But when I per- 
 ceive objects with regard to which I can distinctly de- 
 termine both the place whence they come, and that in 
 which they are, and the time at which they appear to 
 me, and when, without interruption, I can connect the 
 perception I have of them with the whole of the other 
 parts of my life, I am perfectly sure that what I thus 
 perceive occurs while I am awake and not during sleep. 
 And I ought not in the least degree to doubt of the 
 truth of these presentations, if, after having called to- 
 gether all my senses, my memory, and my understand- 
 ing for the purpose of examining them, no deliverance 
 is given by any one of these faculties which is repugnant 
 
MEDITATION VI 
 
 280 
 
 to that of any other: for since God is no deceiver, it 
 necessarily follows that I am not herein deceived. But 
 because the necessities of action frequently oblige us to 
 come to a determination before we have had leisure for 
 so careful an examination, it must be confessed that the 
 life of man is frequently obnoxious to error with respect 
 to individual objects; and we must, in conclusion, ac» 
 knowledge the weakness of our nature. 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 OF 
 
 DESCARTES 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN AND COLLATED 
 WITH THE FRENCH 
 
LETTER OF THE AUTHOR 
 
 TO THE 
 
 FRENCH TRANSLATOR OF THE PRINCIPLES OF 
 PHILOSOPHY SERVING FOR A PREFACE. 
 
 Sir : — The version of my Principles which you have been 
 at pains to make, is so elegant and finished as to lead 
 me to expect that the work will be more generally read 
 in French than in Latin, and better understood. The 
 only apprehension I entertain is lest the title should de- 
 ter some who have not been brought up to letters, or 
 with whom philosophy is in bad repute, because the kind 
 they were taught has proved unsatisfactory; and this 
 makes me think that it will be useful to add a preface 
 to it for the purpose of showing what the matter of the 
 work is, what end I had in view in writing it, and what 
 utility may be derived from it. But although it might 
 be my part to write a preface of this nature, seeing I 
 ought to know those particulars better than any other 
 person, I cannot, nevertheless, prevail upon myself to do 
 anything more than merely to give a summary of the 
 chief points that fall, as I think, to be discussed in it: 
 and I leave it to your discretion to present to the public 
 such part of them as you shall judge proper. 
 
 I should have desired, in the first place, to explain in 
 it what philosophy is, by commencing with the most 
 common matters, as, for example, that the word philoso- 
 phy signifies the study of wisdom, and that by wisdom 
 is to be understood not merely prudence in the manage- 
 ment of affairs, but a perfect knowledge of all that man 
 can know, as well for the conduct of his life as for the 
 preservation of his health and the discovery of all the 
 arts, and that knowledge to subserve these ends must nec- 
 essarily be deduced from first causes ; so that in order to 
 study the acquisition of it (which is properly called phi 
 
 (283) 
 
284 
 
 PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 losophizing), we must commence with the investigation 
 of those first causes which are called Principles. Now 
 these principles must possess two conditions: in the first 
 place, they must be so clear and evident that the human 
 mind, when it attentively considers them, cannot doubt 
 of their truth; in the second place, the knowledge of 
 other things must be so dependent on them as that though 
 the principles themselves may indeed be known apart 
 from what depends on them, the latter cannot, neverthe- 
 less, be known apart from the former. It will accordingly 
 be necessary thereafter to endeavor so to deduce from 
 those principles the knowledge of the things that depend 
 on them, as that there may be nothing in the whole series 
 of deductions which is not perfectly manifest. God is in 
 truth the only being who is absolutely wise, that is, who 
 possesses a perfect knowledge of all things ; but we may 
 say that men are more or less wise as their knowledge 
 of the most important truths is greater or less. And I 
 am confident that there is nothing, in what I have now 
 said, in which all the learned do not concur. 
 
 I should, in the next place, have proposed to consider 
 the utility of philosophy, and at the same time have 
 shown that, since it embraces all that the human mind 
 can know, we ought to believe that it is by it we are 
 distinguished from savages and barbarians, and that the 
 civilization and culture of a nation is regulated by the 
 degree in which true philosophy flourishes in it, and, 
 accordingly, that to contain true philosophers is the high- 
 est privilege a state can enjoy. Besides this, I should 
 have shown that, as regards individuals, it is not only 
 useful for each man to have intercourse with those who 
 apply themselves to this study, but that it is incomparably 
 better he should himself direct his attention to it; just as 
 it is doubtless to be preferred that a man should make use 
 of his own eyes to direct his steps, and enjoy by means 
 of the same the beauties of color and light, than that he 
 should blindly follow the guidance of another; though 
 the latter course is certainly better than to have the eyes 
 closed with no guide except one’s self. But to live with- 
 out philosophizing is in truth the same as keeping the 
 eyes closed without attempting to open them; and the 
 pleasure of seeing all that sight discloses is not to be 
 compared with the satisfaction afforded by the discoveries 
 
PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 285 
 
 of philosophy. And, finally, this study is more impera- 
 tively requisite for the regulation of our manners, and 
 for conducting us through life, than is the use of our 
 eyes for directing our steps. The brutes, which have 
 only their bodies to conserve, are continually occupied 
 in seeking sources of nourishment; but men, of whom 
 the chief part is the mind, ought to make the search 
 after wisdom their principal care, for wisdom is the true 
 nourishment of the mind; and I feel assured, moreover, 
 that there are very many who would not fail in the search, 
 if they would but hope for success in it, and knew the 
 degree of their capabilities for it. There is no mind, 
 how ignoble soever it be, which remains so firmly bound 
 up in the objects of the senses, as not sometime or other 
 to turn itself away from them in the aspiration after some 
 higher good, although not knowing frequently wherein 
 that good consists. The greatest favorites of fortune — 
 those who have health, honors, and riches in abundance 
 — are not more exempt from aspirations of this nature 
 than others ; nay, I am persuaded that these are the per- 
 sons who sigh the most deeply after another good greater 
 and more perfect still than any they already possess. 
 But the supreme good, considered by natural reason 
 without the light of faith, is nothing more than the 
 knowledge of truth through its first causes, in other words, 
 the wisdom of which philosophy is the study. And, as 
 all these particulars are indisputably true, all that is 
 required to gain assent to their truth is that they be well 
 stated. 
 
 But as one is restrained from assenting to these doc- 
 trines by experience, which shows that they who make 
 pretensions to philosophy are often less wise and reason- 
 able than others who never applied themselves to the 
 study, I should have here shortly explained wherein con- 
 sists all the science we now possess, and what are the 
 degrees of wisdom at which we have arrived. The first 
 degree contains only notions so clear of themselves that 
 they can be acquired without meditation ; the second com- 
 prehends all that the experience of the senses dictates; 
 the third, that which the conversation of other men teaches 
 us; to which may be added as the fourth, the reading, 
 not of all books, but especially of such as have been 
 written by persons capable of conveying proper instruc- 
 
286 
 
 PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 tion, for it is a species of conversation we hold with their 
 authors. And it seems to me that all the wisdom we in 
 ordinary possess is acquired only in these four ways ; for 
 I do not class divine revelation among them, because it 
 does not conduct us by degrees, but elevates us at once 
 to an infallible faith. 
 
 There have been, indeed, in all ages great minds who 
 endeavored to find a fifth road to wisdom, incomparably 
 more sure and elevated than the other four. The path 
 they assayed was the search of first causes and true prin- 
 ciples, from which might be deduced the reasons of all 
 that can be known by man ; and it is to them the appel- 
 lation of philosophers has been more especially accorded. 
 I am not aware that there is any one of them up to the 
 present who has succeeded in this enterprise. The first 
 and chief whose writings we possess, are Plato and Aris- 
 totle, between whom there was no difference, except that 
 the former, following in the footsteps of his master, Soc- 
 rates, ingenuously confessed that he had never yet been 
 able to find anything certain, and that he was contented 
 to write what seemed to him probable, imagining, for this 
 end, certain principles by which he endeavored to account 
 for the other things. Aristotle, on the other hand, char- 
 acterized by less candor, although for twenty years the 
 disciple of Plato, and with no principles beyond those of 
 his master, completely reversed his mode of putting them, 
 and proposed as true and certain what it is probable he 
 himself never esteemed as such. But these two men had 
 acquired much judgment and wisdom by the four preced- 
 ing means, qualities which raised their authority very high, 
 so much so that those who succeeded them were willing 
 rather to acquiesce in their opinions, than to seek better 
 for themselves. The chief question among their disciples, 
 however, was as to whether we ought to doubt of all 
 things or hold some as certain, a dispute which led them 
 on both sides into extravagant errors ; for a part of those 
 who were for doubt, extended it even to the actions of 
 life, to the neglect of the most ordinary rules required 
 for its conduct; those, on the other hand, who maintained 
 the doctrine of certainty, supposing that it must depend 
 upon the senses, trusted entirely to them. To such an 
 extent was this carried by Epicurus, that it is said he 
 ventured to affirm, contrary to all the reasonings of 
 
PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 287 
 
 the astronomers, that the sun is no larger than it ap- 
 pears. 
 
 It is a fault we may remark in most disputes, that, as 
 truth is the mean between the two opinions that are up- 
 held, each disputant departs from it in proportion to 
 the degree in which he possesses the spirit of contradic- 
 tion. But the error of those who leant too much to the 
 side of doubt, was not followed for any length of time, 
 and that of the opposite party has been to some extent 
 corrected by the doctrine that the senses are deceitful in 
 many instances. Nevertheless, I do not know that this 
 error was wholly removed by showing that certitude is 
 not in the senses, but in the understanding alone when 
 it has clear perceptions; and that while we only possess 
 the knowledge which is acquired in the first four grades 
 of wisdom, we ought not to doubt of the things that appear 
 to be true in what regards the conduct of life, nor esteem 
 them as so certain that we cannot change our opinions 
 regarding them, even though constrained by the evidence 
 of reason. 
 
 From ignorance of this truth, or, if there was anyone 
 to whom it was known, from neglect of it, the majority 
 of those who in these latter ages aspired to be philoso- 
 phers, blindly followed Aristotle, so that they frequently 
 corrupted the sense of his writings, and attributed to 
 him various opinions which he would not recognize as 
 his own were he now to return to the world; and those 
 who did not follow him, among whom are to be found 
 many of the greatest minds, did yet not escape being 
 imbued with his opinions in their youth, as these form 
 the staple of instruction in the schools; and thus their 
 minds were so preoccupied that they could not rise to 
 the knowledge of true principles. And though I hold 
 all the philosophers in esteem, and am unwilling to in- 
 cur odium by my censure, I can adduce a proof of my 
 assertion, which I do not think any of them will gainsay, 
 which is, that they all laid down as a principle what they 
 did not perfectly know. For example, I know none of 
 them who did not suppose that there was gravity in ter- 
 restrial bodies; but although experience shows us very 
 clearly that bodies we call heavy descend toward the 
 center of the earth, we do not, therefore, know the na- 
 ture of gravity, that is, the cause or principle in virtue 
 
288 
 
 PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 of which bodies descend, and we must derive our knowl- 
 edge of it from some other source. The same may be 
 said of a vacuum and atoms, of heat and cold, ©f dry- 
 ness and humidity, and of salt, sulphur, and mercury, 
 and the other things of this sort which some have 
 adopted as their principles. But no conclusion deduced 
 from a principle which is not clear can be evident, even 
 although the deduction be formally valid; and hence it 
 follows that no reasonings based on such principles could 
 lead them to the certain knowledge of any one thing, 
 nor consequently advance them one step in the search 
 after wisdom. And if they did discover any truth, this 
 was due to one or other of the four means above men- 
 tioned. Notwithstanding this, I am in no degree desir- 
 ous to lessen the honor which each of them can justly 
 claim; I am only constrained to say, for the consolation 
 of those who have not given their attention to study, 
 that just as in traveling, when we turn our back upon 
 the place to which we are going, we recede the farther 
 from it in proportion as we proceed in the new direction 
 for a greater length of time and with greater speed, so 
 that, though we may be afterward brought back to the 
 right way, we cannot nevertheless arrive at the des- 
 tined place as soon as if we had not moved backward at 
 all ; so in philosophy, when we make use of false princi- 
 ples, we depart the farther from the knowledge of truth 
 and wisdom exactly in proportion to the care with which 
 we cultivate them, and apply ourselves to the deduction 
 of diverse consequences from them, thinking that we are 
 philosophizing well, while we are only departing the far- 
 ther from the truth ; from which it must be inferred that 
 they who have learned the least of all that has been 
 hitherto distinguished by the name of philosophy are the 
 most fitted for the apprehension of truth. 
 
 After making those matters clear, I should, in the 
 next place, have desired to set forth the grounds for 
 holding that the true principles by which we may reach 
 that highest degree of wisdom wherein consists the sov- 
 ereign good of human life, are those I have proposed in 
 this work; and two considerations alone are sufficient to 
 establish this — the first of which is, that these principles 
 are very clear, and the second, that we can deduce all 
 other truths from them; for it is only these two condi- 
 
PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 289 
 
 tions that are required in true principles. But I easily 
 prove that they are very clear ; firstly, by a reference to 
 the manner in which I found them, namely, by rejecting 
 all propositions that were in the least doubtful, for it is 
 certain that such as could not be rejected by this test 
 when they were attentively considered, are the most evi- 
 dent and clear which the human mind can know. Thus 
 by considering that he who strives to doubt of all is un- 
 able, nevertheless, to doubt that he is while he doubts, 
 and that what reasons thus, in not being able to doubt 
 of itself and doubting, nevertheless, of everything 
 else, is not that which we call our body, but what we 
 name our mind or thought, I have taken the existence 
 of this thought for the first principle, from which I very 
 clearly deduce the following truths, namely, that there 
 is a God who is the author of all that is in the world, 
 and who, being the source of all truth, cannot have cre- 
 ated our understanding of such a nature as to be deceived 
 in the judgments it forms of the things of which it pos- 
 sesses a very clear and distinct perception. Those are all 
 the principles of which I avail myself touching imma- 
 terial or metaphysical objects, from which I most clearly 
 deduce these other principles of physical or corporeal 
 things, namely, that there are bodies extended in length, 
 breadth, and depth, which are of diverse figures and are 
 moved in a variety of ways. Such are in sum the prin- 
 ciples from which I deduce all other truths. The second 
 circumstance that proves the clearness of these principles 
 is, that they have been known in all ages, and even 
 received as true and indubitable by all men, with the 
 exception only of the existence of God, which has been 
 doubted by some, because they attributed too much to 
 the perceptions of the senses, and God can neither be seen 
 nor touched. 
 
 But, though all the truths which I class among my 
 principles were known at all times, and by all men, never- 
 theless, there has been no one up to the present, who, so 
 far as I know, has adopted them as principles of philoso- 
 phy: in other words, as such that we can deduce from 
 them the knowledge of whatever else is in the world. It 
 accordingly new remains for me to prove that they are 
 such ; and it appears to me that I cannot better establish 
 this than by the test of experience: in other words, by 
 19 
 
290 
 
 PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLE*, 
 
 inviting readers to peruse the following work. For, though. 
 I have not treated in it of all matters — that being im- 
 possible — I think I have so explained all of which I had 
 occasion to treat, that they who read it attentively will 
 have ground for the persuasion that it is unnecessary to 
 seek for any other principles than those I have given, in 
 order to arrive at the most exalted knowledge of which 
 the mind of man is capable; especially if, after the 
 perusal of my writings, they take the trouble to consider 
 how many diverse questions are therein discussed and 
 explained, and, referring to the writings of others, they 
 see how little probability there is in the reasons that are 
 adduced in explanation of the same questions by princi- 
 ples different from mine. And that they may the more 
 easily undertake this, I might have said that those im- 
 bued with my doctrines have much less difficulty in com- 
 prehending the writings of others, and estimating their 
 true value, than those who have not been so imbued; 
 and this is precisely the opposite of what I before said 
 of such as commenced with the ancient philosophy, 
 namely, that the more they have studied it the less fit 
 are they for rightly apprehending the truth. 
 
 I should also have added a word of advice regarding 
 the manner of reading this work, which is, that I should 
 wish the reader at first to go over the whole of it, as he 
 would a romance, without greatly straining his attention, 
 or tarrying at the difficulties he may perhaps meet with 
 in it, with the view simply of knowing in general the 
 matters of which I treat; and that afterward, if they 
 seem to him to merit a more careful examination, and he 
 feel a desire to know their causes, he may read it a 
 second time, in order to observe the connection of my 
 reasonings ; but that he must not then give up in despair, 
 although he may not everywhere sufficiently discover the 
 connection of the proof, or understand all the reasonings 
 — it being only necessary to mark with a pen the places 
 where the difficulties occur, and continue to read without 
 interruption to the end; then if he does not grudge to 
 take up the book a third time, I am confident he will 
 find in a fresh perusal the solution of most of the 
 difficulties he will have marked before; and that, if any 
 still remain, their solution will in the end be found in 
 another reading. 
 
PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 29 
 
 I have observed, on examining the natural constitutions 
 of different minds, that there are hardly any so dull or 
 slow of understanding as to be incapable of apprehending 
 good opinions, or even of acquiring all the highest 
 sciences if they be but conducted along the right road. 
 And this can also be proved by reason; for as the prin- 
 ciples are clear, and as nothing ought to be deduced from 
 them, unless most manifest inferences, no one is so devoid 
 of intelligence as to be unable to comprehend the con- 
 clusions that flow from them. But, besides the entangle- 
 ment of prejudices, from which no one is entirely exempt, 
 although it is they who have been the most ardent stu- 
 dents of the false sciences that receive the greatest detri- 
 ment from them, it happens very generally that people 
 of ordinary capacity neglect to study from a conviction 
 that they want ability, and that others, who are more 
 ardent, press on too rapidly: whence it comes to pass 
 that they frequently admit principles far from evident, 
 and draw doubtful inferences from them. For this reason, 
 I should wish to assure those who are too distrustful of 
 their own abTity that there is nothing in my writings 
 which they may not entirely understand, if they only 
 take the trouble to examine them; and I should wish, at 
 the same time, to warn those of an opposite tendency 
 that even the most superior minds will have need of 
 much time and attention to remark all I designed to 
 embrace therein. 
 
 After this, that I might lead men to understand the real 
 design I had in publishing them, I should have wished 
 here to explain the order which it seems to me one ought 
 to follow with the view of instructing himself. In the 
 first place, a man who has merely the vulgar and imper- 
 fect knowledge which can be acquired by the four means 
 above explained, ought, before all else, to endeavor to 
 form for himself a code of morals sufficient to regulate 
 the actions of his life, as well for the reason that this does 
 not admit of delay as because it ought to be our first care 
 to live well. In the next place, he ought to study Logic, 
 not that of the schools, for it is only, properly speaking, 
 a dialectic which teaches the mode of expounding to others 
 what we already know, or even of speaking much, without 
 judgment, of what we do not know, by which means it cor- 
 rupts rather than increases good sense — but the logic 
 
292 
 
 PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 which teaches the right conduct of the reason with the 
 view of discovering the truths of which we are ignorant; 
 and, because it greatly depends on usage, it is desirable 
 he should exercise himself for a length of time in prac- 
 ticing its rules on easy and simple questions, as those of 
 the mathematics. Then, when he has acquired some skill 
 in discovering the truth in these questions, he should 
 commence to apply himself in earnest to true philosophy, 
 of which the first part is Metaphysics, containing the prin- 
 ciples of knowledge, among which is the explication of the 
 principal attributes of God, of the immateriality of the 
 soul, and of all the clear and simple notions that are in us ; 
 the second is Physics, in which, after finding the true prin- 
 ciples of material things, we examine, in general, how the 
 whole universe has been framed; in the next place, we 
 consider, in particular, the nature of the earth, and of all 
 the bodies that are most generally found upon it, as air, 
 water, fire, 3 loadstone and other minerals. In the next 
 place, it is necessary also to examine singly the nature of 
 plants, of animals, and above all of man, in order that we 
 may thereafter be able to discover the other sciences that 
 are useful to us. Thus, all Philosophy is like a tree, of 
 which Metaphysics is the root, Physics the trunk, and all 
 the other sciences the branches that grow out of this 
 trunk, which are reduced to three principal, namely, 
 Medicine, Mechanics, and Ethics. By the science of 
 Morals, I understand the highest and most perfect which, 
 presupposing an entire knowledge of the other sciences, 
 is the last degree of wisdom. 
 
 But as it is not from the roots or the trunks of trees 
 that we gather the fruit, but only from the extremities 
 of their branches, so the principal utility of philosophy 
 depends on the separate uses of its parts, which we can 
 only learn last of all. But, though I am ignorant of al- 
 most all these, the zeal I have always felt in endeavor- 
 ing to be of service to the public, was the reason why I 
 published, some ten or twelve years ago, certain Essays 
 on the doctrines I thought I had acquired. The first 
 part of these Essays was a <( Discourse on the Method of 
 rightly conducting the Reason, and seeking Truth in the 
 Sciences,” in which I gave a summary of the principal 
 rules of logic, and also of an imperfect ethic, which a 
 person may follow provisionally so long as he does not 
 
PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 293 
 
 know any better. The other parts were three treatises: 
 the first of Dioptrics, the second of Meteors, and the 
 third of Geometry. In the Dioptrics, I designed to show 
 that we might proceed far enough in philosophy as to 
 arrive, by its means, at the knowledge of the arts that 
 are useful to life, because the invention of the telescope, 
 of which I there gave an explanation, is one of the most 
 difficult that has ever been made. In the treatise of 
 Meteors, I desired to exhibit the difference that subsists 
 between the philosophy I cultivate and that taught in 
 the schools, in which the same matters are usually dis- 
 cussed. In fine, in the Geometry, I professed to demon- 
 strate that I had discovered many things that were before 
 unknown, and thus afford ground for believing that we 
 may still discover many others, with the view of thus 
 stimulating all to the investigation of truth. Since that 
 period, anticipating the difficulty which many would ex- 
 perience in apprehending the foundations of the Meta- 
 physics, I endeavored to explain the chief points of them 
 in a book of Meditations, which is not in itself large, 
 but the size of which has been increased, and the matter 
 greatly illustrated, by the Objections which several very 
 learned persons sent to me on occasion of it, and by the 
 Replies which I made to them. At length, after it ap- 
 peared to me that those preceding treatises had sufficiently 
 prepared the minds of my readers for the <( Principles of 
 Philosophy, ® I also published it; and I have divided this 
 work into four parts, the first of which contains the 
 principles of human knowledge, and which may be called 
 the First Philosophy, or Metaphysics. That this part, 
 accordingly, may be properly understood, it will be nec- 
 essary to read beforehand the book of Meditations I 
 wrote on the same subject. The other three parts con- 
 tain all that is most general in Physics, namely, the 
 explication of the first laws or principles of nature, and 
 the way in which the heavens, the fixed stars, the plan- 
 ets, comets, and generally the whole universe, were com- 
 posed; in the next place, the explication, in particular, 
 of the nature of this earth, the air, water, fire, the mag- 
 net, which are the bodies we most commonly find every- 
 where around it, and of all the qualities we observe in 
 these bodies, as light, heat, gravity, and the like. In 
 this way, it seems to me, I have commenced the orderly 
 
294 
 
 PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 explanation of the whole of philosophy, without omitting 
 any of the matters that ought to precede the last which 
 I discussed. 
 
 But to bring this undertaking to its conclusion, I ought 
 hereafter to explain, in the same manner, the nature of 
 the other more particular bodies that are on the earth, 
 namely, minerals, plants, animals, and especially man; 
 finally to treat thereafter with accuracy of Medicine, 
 Ethics, and Mechanics. I should require to do this in 
 order to give to the world a complete body of philoso- 
 phy; and I do not yet feel myself so old, I do not so 
 much distrust my strength, nor do I find myself so far 
 removed from the knowledge of what remains, as that I 
 should not dare to undertake to complete this design, 
 provided I were in a position to make all the experi- 
 ments which I should require for the basis and verifica- 
 tion of my reasonings. But seeing that would demand 
 a great expenditure, to which the resources of a private 
 individual like myself would not be adequate, unless 
 aided by the public, and as I have no ground to expect 
 this aid, I believe that I ought for the future to content 
 myself with studying for my own instruction, and pos- 
 terity will excuse me if I fail hereafter to labor for them. 
 
 Meanwhile, that it may be seen wherein I think I 
 have already promoted the general good, I will here 
 mention the fruits that may be gathered from my Prin- 
 ciples. The first is the satisfaction which the mind will 
 experience on finding in the work many truths before 
 unknown; for although frequently truth does not so 
 greatly affect our imagination as falsity and fiction, be- 
 cause it seems less wonderful and is more simple, yet 
 the gratification it affords is always more durable and 
 solid. The second fruit is, that in studying these prin- 
 ciples we will become accustomed by degrees to judge 
 better of all the things we come in contact with, and 
 thus be made wiser, in which respect the effect will be 
 quite the opposite to the common philosophy, for we 
 may easily remark in those we call pedants that it ren- 
 ders them less capable of rightly exercising their reason 
 than they would have been if they had never known it. 
 The third is, that the truths which they contain, being 
 highly clear and certain, will take away all ground of 
 dispute, and thus dispose men’s minds to gentleness and 
 
PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 295 
 
 concord; whereas the contrary is the effect of the con- 
 troversies of the schools, which, as they insensibly ren- 
 der those who are exercised in them more wrangling 
 and opinionative, are perhaps the prime cause of the 
 heresies and dissensions that now harass the world. 
 The last and chief fruit of these Principles is, that one 
 will be able, by cultivating them, to discover many 
 truths I myself have not unfolded, and thus passing by 
 degrees from one to another, to acquire in course of 
 time a perfect knowledge of the whole of philosophy, 
 and to rise to the highest degree of wisdom. For just 
 as all the arts, though in their beginnings they are rude 
 and imperfect, are yet gradually perfected by practice, 
 from their containing at first something true, and whose 
 effect experience evinces ; so in philosophy, when we 
 have true principles, we cannot fail by following them 
 to meet sometimes with other truths; and we could not 
 better prove the falsity of those of Aristotle, than by 
 saying that men made no progress in knowledge by their 
 means during the many ages they prosecuted them. 
 
 I well know that there are some men so precipitate 
 and accustomed to use so little circumspection in what 
 they do, that, even with the most solid foundations, they 
 could not rear a firm superstructure ; and as it is usually 
 those who are the readiest to make books, they would in 
 a short time mar all that I have done, and introduce 
 uncertainty and doubt into my manner of philosophizing, 
 from which I have carefully endeavored to banish them, 
 if people were to receive their writings as mine, or as 
 representing my opinions. I had, not long ago, some 
 experience of this in one of those who were believed de- 
 sirous of following me the most closely, and one too of 
 whom I had somewhere said that I had such confidence 
 in his genius as to believe that he adhered to no opin- 
 ions which I should not be ready to avow as mine ; for 
 he last year published a book entitled (< Fundamenta 
 Physicae,” in which, although he seems to have written 
 nothing on the subject of Physics and Medicine which 
 he did not take from my writings, as well from those I 
 have published as from another still imperfect on the 
 nature of animals, which fell into his hands; neverthe- 
 less, because he has copied them badly, and changed the 
 order, and denied certain metaphysical truths upon which 
 
396 
 
 PREFACE TO THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 all Physics ought to be based, I am obliged wholly to 
 disavow his work, and here to request readers not to at- 
 tribute to me any opinion unless they find it expressly 
 stated in my own writings, and to receive no opinion as 
 true, whether in my writings or elsewhere, unless they 
 see that it is very clearly deduced from true principles. 
 
 I well know, likewise, that many ages may elapse ere 
 all the truths deducible from these principles are evolved 
 out of them, as well because the greater number of such 
 as remain to be discovered depend on certain particular 
 experiments that never occur by chance, but which re- 
 quire to be investigated with care and expense by men 
 of the highest intelligence, as because it will hardly hap- 
 pen that the same persons who have the sagacity to make 
 a right use of them, will possess also the means of making 
 them, and also because the majority of the best minds 
 have formed so low an estimate of philosophy in general, 
 from the imperfections they have remarked in the kind 
 in vogue up to the present time, that they cannot apply 
 themselves to the search after truth. 
 
 But in conclusion, if the difference discernible between 
 the principles in question and those of every other sys- 
 tem, and the great array of truths deducible from them, 
 lead them to discern the importance of continuing the 
 search after these truths, and to observe the degree of 
 wisdom, the perfection and felicity of life, to which they 
 are fitted to conduct us, I venture to believe that there 
 will not be found one who is not ready to labor hard in 
 so profitable a study, or at least to favor and aid with 
 all his might those who shall devote themselves to it with 
 success. 
 
 The height of my wishes is, that posterity may some- 
 time behold the happy issue of it, etc. 
 
TO THE MOST SERENE PRINCESS, 
 
 ELISABETH, 
 
 Eldest Daughter of Frederick, King of Bohemia, 
 Count Palatine, and Elector of the 
 Sacred Roman Empire. 
 
 Madam, — The greatest advantage I have derived from 
 the writings which I have already published, has arisen 
 from my having, through means of them, become known 
 to your Highness, and thus been privileged to hold occa- 
 sional converse with one in whom so many rare and 
 estimable qualities are united, as to lead me to believe 
 I should do service to the public by proposing them as 
 an example to posterity. It would ill become me to 
 flatter, or to give expression to anything of which I had 
 no certain knowledge, especially in the first pages of a 
 work in which I aim at laying down the principles of 
 truth. And the generous modesty that is conspicuous in 
 all your actions, assures me that the frank and simple 
 judgment of a man who only writes what he believes 
 will be more agreeable to you than the ornate laudations 
 of those who have studied the art of compliment. For 
 this reason, I will give insertion to nothing in this letter 
 for which I have not the certainty both of experience 
 and reason; and in the exordium, as in the rest of the 
 work, I will write only as becomes a philosopher. There 
 is a vast difference between real and apparent virtues; 
 and there is also a great discrepancy between those real 
 virtues that proceed from an accurate knowledge of the 
 truth, and such as are accompanied with ignorance or 
 error. The virtues I call apparent are only, properly 
 speaking, vices, which, as they are less frequent than the 
 vices that are opposed to them, and are farther removed 
 from them than the intermediate virtues, are usually held 
 
 (297) 
 
29S 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 in higher esteem than those virtues. Thus, because those 
 who fear dangers too much are more numerous than they 
 who fear them too little, temerity is frequently opposed to 
 the vice of timidity, and taken for a virtue, and is com- 
 monly more highly esteemed than true fortitude. Thus, 
 also, the prodigal are in ordinary more praised than the 
 liberal; and none more easily acquire a great reputation 
 for piety than the superstitious and hypocritical. With 
 regard to true virtues, these do not all proceed from true 
 knowledge, for there are some that likewise spring from 
 defect or error: thus, simplicity is frequently the source 
 of goodness, fear of devotion, and despair of courage. The 
 virtues that are thus accompanied with some imperfections 
 differ from each other, and have received diverse appella- 
 tions. But those pure and perfect virtues that arise from 
 the knowledge of good alone, are all of the same nature, 
 and may be comprised under the single term wisdom. 
 For, whoever owns the firm and constant resolution of 
 always using his reason as well as lies in his power, and 
 in all his actions of doing what he judges to be best, is 
 truly wise, as far as his nature permits ; and by this 
 alone he is just, courageous, temperate, and possesses all 
 the other virtues, but so well balanced as that none of 
 them appears more prominent than another: and for 
 this reason, although they are much more perfect than 
 the virtues that blaze forth through the mixture of 
 some defect, yet, because the crowd thus observes them 
 less, they are not usually extolled so highly. Besides, 
 of the two things that are requisite for the wisdom thus 
 described, namely, the perception of the understanding 
 and the disposition of the will, it is only that which 
 lies in the will which all men can possess equally, inas- 
 much as the understanding of some is inferior to that of 
 others. But although those who have only an inferior 
 understanding may be as perfectly wise as their nature 
 permits, and may render themselves highly acceptable to 
 God by their virtue, provided the } 7 preserve always a 
 firm and constant resolution to do all that they shall 
 judge to be right, and to omit nothing that may lead 
 them to the knowledge of the duties of which they are 
 ignorant; nevertheless, those who preserve a constant 
 resolution of performing the right, and are especially 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 299 
 
 careful in instructing - themselves, and who possess also 
 a highly perspicacious intellect, arrive doubtless at a 
 higher degree of wisdom than others; and I see that 
 these three particulars are found in great perfection in 
 your Highness. For, in the first place, your desire of 
 self-instruction is manifest, from the circumstance that 
 neither the amusements of the court, nor the accustomed 
 mode of educating ladies, which ordinarily condemns 
 them to ignorance, have been sufficient to prevent you 
 from studying with much care all that is best in the 
 arts and sciences; and the incomparable perspicacity of 
 your intellect is evinced by this, that you penetrated the 
 secrets of the sciences and acquired an accurate knowl- 
 edge of them in a very short period. But of the vigor 
 of your intellect I have a still stronger proof, and one 
 peculiar to myself, in that I have never yet met any one 
 who understood so generally and so well as yourself all 
 that is contained in my writings. For there are several, 
 even among men of the highest intellect and learning, 
 who find them very obscure. And I remark, in almost 
 all those who are versant in Metaphysics, that they are 
 wholly disinclined from Geometry; and, on the other 
 hand, that the cultivators of Geometry have no ability 
 for the investigations of the First Philosophy: insomuch 
 that I can say with truth I know but one mind, and 
 that is your own, to which both studies are alike con- 
 genial, and which I therefore, with propriety, designate 
 incomparable. But what most of all enhances my 
 admiration is, that so accurate and varied an acquaintance 
 with the whole circle of the sciences is not found in 
 some aged doctor who has employed many years in con- 
 templation, but in a Princess still young, and whose 
 countenance and years would more fitly represent one of 
 the Graces than a Muse or the sage Minerva. In con- 
 clusion, I not only remark in your Highness all that is 
 requisite on the part of the mind to perfect and sublime 
 wisdom, but also all that can be required on the part of 
 the will or the manners, in which benignity and gentle- 
 ness are so conjoined with majesty that, though fortune 
 has attacked you with continued injustice, it has failed 
 either to irritate or crush you. And this constrains me 
 to such veneration that I not only think this work due 
 
300 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 to you, since it treats of philosophy which is the study 
 of wisdom, but likewise feel not more zeal for my 
 reputation as a philosopher than pleasure in subscribing 
 myself, 
 
 Of your most Serene Highness, 
 
 The most devoted servant, 
 
 Descartes. 
 
THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Of the Principles of Human Knowledge. 
 
 I. That in order to seek truth, it is necessary once 
 in the course of our life, to doubt, as far as possible, of 
 all things. 
 
 As we were at one time children, and as we formed 
 various judgments regarding the objects presented to our 
 senses, when as yet we had not the entire use of our 
 reason, numerous prejudices stand in the way of our 
 arriving at the knowledge of truth; and of these it seems 
 impossible for us to rid ourselves, unless we undertake, 
 once in our lifetime, to doubt all of those things in which 
 we may discover even the smallest suspicion of uncer- 
 tainty. 
 
 II. That we ought also to consider as false all that is 
 doubtful. 
 
 Moreover, it will be useful likewise to esteem as false 
 the things of which we shall be able to doubt, that we 
 may with greater clearness discover what possesses most 
 certainty and is the easiest to know. 
 
 III. That we ought not meanwhile to make use of 
 doubt in the conduct of life. 
 
 In the meantime, it is to be observed that we are to 
 avail ourselves of this general doubt only while engaged 
 in the contemplation of truth. For, as far as concerns 
 the conduct of life, we are very frequently obliged to 
 follow opinions merely probable, or even sometimes, 
 though of two courses of action we may not perceive 
 more probability in the one than in the other, to choose 
 one or other, seeing the opportunity of acting would not 
 unfrequently pass away before we could free ourselves 
 from our doubts. 
 
 (301) 
 
302 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 IV. Why we may doubt of sensible things. 
 
 Accordingly, since we now only design to apply our- 
 selves to the investigation of truth, we will doubt, first, 
 whether of all the things that have ever fallen under 
 our senses, or which we have ever imagined, any one 
 really exist; in the first place, because we know by ex- 
 perience that the senses sometimes err, and it would be 
 imprudent to trust too much to what has even once de- 
 ceived us; secondly, because in dreams we perpetually 
 seem to perceive or imagine innumerable objects which 
 have no existence. And to one who has thus resolved 
 upon a general doubt, there appear no marks by which 
 he can with certainty distinguish sleep from the waking 
 state. 
 
 V. Why we may also doubt of mathematical demon- 
 strations. 
 
 We will also doubt of the other things we have before 
 held as most certain, even of the demonstrations of 
 mathematics, and of their principles which we have 
 hitherto deemed self-evident; in the first place, because 
 we have sometimes seen men fall into error in such mat- 
 ters, and admit as absolutely certain and self-evident what 
 to us appeared false, but chiefly because we have learned 
 that God who created us is all-powerful; for we do not 
 yet know whether perhaps it was his will to create us so 
 that we are always deceived, even in the things we think 
 we know best; since this does not appear more impossible 
 than our being occasionally deceived, which, however, as 
 observation teaches us, is the case. And if we suppose 
 that an all-powerful God is not the author of our being, 
 and that we exist of ourselves or by some other means, 
 still, the less powerful we suppose our author to be, the 
 greater reason will we have for believing that we are 
 not so perfect as that we may not be continually deceived. 
 
 VI. That we possess a free will, by which we can 
 withhold our assent from what is doubtful, and thus avoid 
 error. 
 
 But meanwhile, whoever in the end may be the author 
 of our being, and however powerful and deceitfnl he may 
 be, we are nevertheless conscious of a freedom, by which 
 we can refrain from admitting to a place in our belief 
 aught that is not manifestly certain and undoubted, and 
 thus guard against ever being deceived. 
 
PART I 
 
 3°3 
 
 VII. That we cannot doubt of our existence while we 
 doubt, and that this is the first knowledge we acquire 
 when we philosophize in order. 
 
 While we thus reject all of which we can entertain 
 the smallest doubt, and even imagine that it is false, we 
 easily indeed suppose that there is neither God, nor sky, 
 nor bodies, and that we ourselves even have neither 
 hands nor feet, nor, finally, a body ; but we cannot in the 
 same way suppose that we are not while we doubt of the 
 truth of these things; for there is a repugnance in con- 
 ceiving that what thinks does not exist at the very time 
 when it thinks. Accordingly, the knowledge, I think, 
 therefore I am, is the first and most certain that occurs 
 to one who philosophizes orderly. 
 
 VIII. That we hence discover the distinction between 
 the mind and the body, or between a thinking and cor- 
 poreal thing. 
 
 And this is the best mode of discovering the nature 
 of the mind, and its distinctness from the body: for 
 examining what we are, while supposing, as we now do, 
 that there is nothing really existing apart from our 
 thought, we clearly perceive that neither extension, nor 
 figure, nor local motion,* nor anything similar that can 
 be attributed to body, pertains to our nature, and nothing 
 save thought alone ; and, consequently, that the notion 
 we have of our mind precedes that of any corporeal thing, 
 and is more certain, seeing we still doubt whether there 
 is any body in existence, while we already perceive that 
 we think. 
 
 IX. What thought ( cogitatio ) is. 
 
 By the word thought, I understand all that which so 
 takes place in us that we of ourselves are immediately 
 conscious of it; and, accordingly, not only to understand 
 ( intelligere , entendre ), to will (velle), to imagine ( imaginari ), 
 but even to perceive {sentire, sentir ), are here the same 
 as to think ( cogitare , penser). For if I say, I see, or, I 
 walk, therefore I am; and if I understand by vision or 
 walking the act of my eyes or of my limbs, which is the 
 work of the body, the conclusion is not absolutely certain, 
 because, as is often the case in dreams, I may think that 
 I see or walk, although I do not open my eyes or move 
 from my place, and even, perhaps, although I have no 
 
 * Instead of « local motion, }> the French has « existence in any place. » 
 
3°4 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 body: but, if I mean the sensation itself, or conscious- 
 ness of seeing or walking, the knowledge is manifestly 
 certain, because it is then referred to the mind, which 
 alone perceives or is conscious that it sees or walks.* 
 
 X. That the notions which are simplest and self-evident, 
 are obscured by logical definitions ; and that such are not 
 to be reckoned among the cognitions acquired by study, 
 [but as born with us], 
 
 I do not here explain several other terms which I have 
 used, or design to use in the sequel, because their mean- 
 ing seems to me sufficiently self-evident. And I fre- 
 quently remarked that philosophers erred in attempting 
 to explain, by logical definitions, such truths as are most 
 simple and self-evident; for they thus only render them 
 more obscure. And when I said that the proposition, I 
 think, therefore I am, is of all others the first and most 
 certain which occurs to one philosophizing orderly, I did 
 not therefore deny that it was necessary to know what 
 thought, existence, and certitude are, and the truth that, 
 in order to think it is necessary to be, and the like; 
 but, because these are the most simple notions, and such 
 as of themselves afford the knowledge of nothing exist- 
 ing, I did not judge it proper there to enumerate them. 
 
 XI. How we can know our mind more clearly than 
 our body. 
 
 But now that it may be discerned how the knowledge 
 we have of the mind not only precedes, and has greater 
 certainty, but is even clearer, than that we have of the 
 body, it must be remarked, as a matter that is highly 
 manifest by the natural light, that to nothing no affections 
 or qualities belong; and, accordingly, that where we ob- 
 serve certain affections, there a thing or substance to which 
 these pertain, is necessarily found. The same light also 
 shows us that we know a thing or substance more clearly 
 in proportion as we discover in it a greater number of 
 qualities. Now, it is manifiest that we remark a greater 
 number of qualities in our mind than in any other thing; 
 for there is no occasion on which we know anything what- 
 ever when we are not at the same time led with much 
 greater certainty to the knowledge of our own mind. For 
 example, if I judge that there is an earth because I touch 
 
 *In the French, <( which alone has the power of perceiving, or of 
 being conscious in any other way whatever. » 
 
PART I 
 
 305 
 
 or see it, on the same ground, and with still greater reason, 
 I must be persuaded that my mind exists ; for it may be, 
 perhaps, that I think I touch the earth while there is none 
 in existence; but it is not possible that I should so 
 judge, and my mind which thus judges not exist; and the 
 same holds good of whatever object is presented to our 
 mind. 
 
 XII. How it happens that everyone does not come 
 equally to know this. 
 
 Those who have not philosophized in order have had 
 other opinions on this subject, because they never distin- 
 guished with sufficient care the mind from the body. For, 
 although they had no difficulty in believing that they 
 themselves existed, and that they had a higher assurance 
 of this than of any other thing, nevertheless, as they did 
 not observe that by themselves, they ought here to un- 
 derstand their minds alone [when the question related to 
 metaphysical certainty] ; and since, on the contrary, they 
 rather meant their bodies which they saw with their 
 eyes, touched with their hands, and to which they 
 erroneously attributed the faculty of perception, they 
 were prevented from distinctly apprehending the nature 
 of the mind. 
 
 XIII. In what sense the knowledge of other things 
 depends upon the knowledge of God. 
 
 But when the mind, which thus knows itself but is still 
 in doubt as to all other things, looks around on all sides, 
 with a view to the further extension of its knowledge, it 
 first of all discovers within itself the ideas of many things ; 
 and while it simply contemplates them, and neither affirms 
 nor denies that there is anything beyond itself corre- 
 sponding to them, it is in no danger of erring. 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 impossi- 
 ble, so long as we give attention to them. For example, 
 the mind has within itself ideas of numbers and figures, 
 and it has likewise among its common notions the prin- 
 ciple THAT IF EQUALS BE ADDED TO EQUALS THE WHOLES 
 
 will be equal, and the like; from which it is easy to 
 demonstrate that the three angles of a triangle are equal 
 to two right angles, etc. Now, so long as we attend to 
 the premises from which this conclusion and others sim- 
 20 
 
3°6 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ilar to it were deduced, we feel assured of their truth; 
 but, as the mind cannot always think of these with at- 
 tention, when it has the remembrance of a conclusion 
 without recollecting the order of its deduction, and is 
 uncertain whether the author of its being has created it 
 of a nature that is liable to be deceived, even in what 
 appears most evident, it perceives that there is just 
 ground to distrust the truth of such conclusions, and 
 that it cannot possess any certain knowledge until it has 
 discovered its author. 
 
 XIV. That we may validly infer the existence of God 
 from necessary existence being comprised in the concept 
 we have of him. 
 
 When the mind afterward reviews the different ideas 
 that are in it, it discovers what is by far the chief among 
 them — that of a Being omniscient, all-powerful, and 
 absolutely perfect ; and it observes that in this idea there 
 is contained not only possible and contingent existence, 
 as in the ideas of all other things which it clearly per- 
 ceives, but existence absolutely necessary and eternal. 
 And just as because, for example, the equality of its three 
 angles to two right angles is necessarily comprised in the 
 idea of a triangle, the mind is firmly persuaded that the 
 three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles; 
 so, from its perceiving necessary and eternal existence to 
 be comprised in the idea which it has of an all-perfect 
 Being, it ought manifestly to conclude that this all-per- 
 fect Being exists. 
 
 XV. That necessary existence is not in the same way 
 comprised in the notions which we have of other things, 
 but merely contingent existence. 
 
 The mind will be still more certain of the truth of 
 this conclusion, if it consider that it has no idea of any 
 other thing in which it can discover that necessary exist- 
 ence is contained; for, from this circumstance alone, it 
 will discern that the idea of an all-perfect Being has not 
 been framed by itself, and that it does not represent a 
 chimera, but a true and immutable nature, which must 
 exist since it can only be conceived as necessarily existing. 
 
 XVI. That prejudices hinder many from clearly know- 
 ing the necessity of the existence of God. 
 
 Our mind would have no difficulty in assenting to this 
 truth, if it were, first of all, wholly free from prejudices; 
 
PART I 
 
 307 
 
 but as we have been accustomed to distinguish, in all 
 other things, essence from existence, and to imagine at 
 will many ideas of things which neither are nor have been, 
 it easily happens, when we do not steadily fix our thoughts 
 on the contemplation of the all-perfect Being, that a doubt 
 arises as to whether the idea we have of him is not one 
 of those which we frame at pleasure, or at least of that 
 class to whose essence existence does not pertain. 
 
 XVII. That the greater objective (representative) per- 
 fection there is in our idea of a thing, the greater also 
 must be the perfection of its cause. 
 
 When we further reflect on the various ideas that are 
 in us, it is easy to perceive that there is not much dif- 
 ference among them, when we consider them simply as 
 certain modes of thinking, but that they are widely dif- 
 ferent, considered in reference to the objects they repre- 
 sent; and that their causes must be so much the more 
 perfect according to the degree of objective perfection 
 contained in them.* For there is no difference between 
 this and the case of a person who has the idea of a ma- 
 chine, in the construction of which great skill is displayed, 
 in which circumstances we have a right to inquire how 
 he came by this idea, whether, for example, he some- 
 where saw such a machine constructed by another, or 
 whether he was so accurately taught the mechanical sci- 
 ences, or is endowed with such force of genius, that he 
 was able of himself to invent it, without having else- 
 where seen anything like it; for all the ingenuity which 
 is contained in the idea objectively only, or as it were 
 in a picture, must exist at least in its first and chief 
 cause, whatever that may be, not only objectively or 
 representatively, but in truth formally or eminently. 
 
 XVIII. That the existence of God may be again in- 
 ferred from the above. 
 
 Thus, because we discover in our minds the idea of 
 God, or of an all-perfect Being, we have a right to 
 inquire into the source whence we derive it; and we will 
 discover that the perfections it represents are so immense 
 as to render it quite certain that we could only derive 
 it from an all-perfect Being; that is, from a God really 
 existing. For it is not only manifest by the natural light 
 
 * <( As what they represent of their object has more perfection.® — 
 French. 
 
3°8 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 that nothing cannot be the cause of anything whatever, 
 and that the more perfect cannot arise from the less per- 
 fect, so as to be thereby produced as by its efficient and 
 total cause, but also that it is impossible we can have 
 the idea or representation of anything whatever, unless 
 there be somewhere, either in us or out of us, an orig- 
 inal which comprises, in reality, all the perfections that 
 are thus represented to us ; but, as we do not in any way 
 find in ourselves those absolute perfections of which we 
 have the idea, we must conclude that they exist in some 
 nature different from ours, that is, in God, or at least 
 that they were once in him; and it most manifestly fol- 
 lows [from their infinity] that they are still there. 
 
 XIX. That, although we may not comprehend the 
 nature of God, there is yet nothing which we know so 
 clearly as his perfections. 
 
 This will appear sufficiently certain and manifest to 
 those who have been accustomed to contemplate the idea 
 of God, and to turn their thoughts to his infinite perfec- 
 tions; for, although we may not comprehend them, 
 because it is of the nature of the infinite not to be com- 
 prehended by what is finite, we nevertheless conceive 
 them more clearly and distinctly than material objects, 
 for this reason, that, being simple, and unobscured by 
 limits,* they occupy our mind more fully. 
 
 XX. That we are not the cause of ourselves, but that 
 this is God, and consequently that there is a God. 
 
 But, because every one has not observed this, and 
 because when we have an idea of any machine in which 
 great skill is displayed, we usually know with sufficient 
 accuracy the manner in which we obtained it, and as we 
 cannot even recollect when the idea we have of a God 
 was communicated to us by him, seeing it was always in 
 our minds, it is still necessary that we should continue 
 our review, and make inquiry after our author, possess- 
 ing, as we do, the idea of the infinite perfections of a 
 God : for it is in the highest degree evident by the 
 natural light, that that which knows something more 
 
 * After limits, (< what of them we do conceive is much less con- 
 fused. There is, besides, no speculation more calculated to aid in 
 perfecting our understanding, which is more important than this, inas- 
 much as the consideration of an object that has no limits to its per- 
 fections fills us with satisfaction and assurance. » — French. 
 
PART I 
 
 309 
 
 perfect than itself, is not the source of its own being, 
 since it would thus have given to itself all the perfec- 
 tions which it knows; and that, consequently, it could 
 draw its origin from no other being than from him who 
 possesses in himself all these perfections, that is, from 
 God. 
 
 XXI. That the duration alone of our life is sufficient to 
 demonstrate the existence of God. 
 
 The truth of this demonstration will clearly appear, 
 provided we consider the nature of time, or the duration 
 of things; for this is of such a kind that its parts are not 
 mutually dependent, and never co-existent; and, accord- 
 ingly, from the fact that we now are, it does not neces- 
 sarily follow that we shall -be a moment afterward, 
 unless some cause, viz, that which first produced us, 
 shall, as it were, continually reproduce us, that is, con- 
 serve 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. 
 
 XXII. That in knowing the existence of God, in the 
 manner here explained, we likewise know all his attri- 
 butes, as far as they can be known by the natural light 
 alone. 
 
 There is the great advantage in proving the existence 
 of God in this way, viz, by his idea, that we at the same 
 time know what he is, as far as the weakness of our na- 
 ture allows; for, reflecting on the idea we have of him 
 which is born with us, we perceive that he is eternal, 
 omniscient, omnipotent, the source of all goodness and 
 truth, creator of all things, and that, in fine, he has in 
 himself all that in which we can clearly discover any in- 
 finite perfection or good that is not limited by any im- 
 perfection. 
 
 XXIII. That God is not corporeal, and does not per- 
 ceive by means of senses as we do, or will the evil of 
 sin. 
 
 For there are indeed many things in the world that 
 are to a certain extent imperfect or limited, though pos- 
 sessing also some perfection ; and it is accordingly impos- 
 
3io 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 sible that any such can be in God. Thus, looking to 
 corporeal nature,* since divisibility is included in local 
 extension, and this indicates imperfection, it is certain 
 that God is not body. And although in men it is to some 
 degree a perfection to be capable of perceiving by means 
 of the senses, nevertheless since in every sense there is 
 passivity f which indicates dependency, we must conclude 
 that God is in no manner possessed of senses, and that 
 he only understands and wills, not, however, like us, by 
 acts in any way distinct, but always by an act that is one, 
 identical, and the simplest possible, understands, wills, 
 and operates all, that is, all things that in reality exist; 
 for he does not will the evil of sin, seeing this is but the 
 negation of being. 
 
 XXIV. That in passing from the knowledge of God to 
 the knowledge of the creatures, it is necessary to re- 
 member that our understanding is finite, and the power 
 of God infinite. 
 
 But as we know that God alone is the true cause of all 
 that is or can be, we will doubtless follow the best way 
 of philosophizing, if, from the knowledge we have of God 
 himself, we pass to the explication of the things which 
 he has created, and essay to deduce it from the notions 
 that are naturally in our minds, for we will thus ob- 
 tain the most perfect science, that is, the knowledge 
 of effects through their causes. But that we may 
 be able to make this attempt with sufficient security 
 from error, we must use the precaution to bear in mind 
 as much as possible that God, who is the author of things, 
 is infinite, while we are wholly finite. 
 
 XXV. That we must believe all that God has revealed, 
 although it may surpass the reach of our faculties. 
 
 Thus, if perhaps God reveal to us or others, matters 
 concerning himself which surpass the natural powers of 
 our mind, such as the mysteries of the incarnation and of 
 the trinity, we will not refuse to believe them, although 
 we may not clearly understand them; nor will we be in 
 any way surprised to find in the immensity of his nature, 
 or even in what he has created, many things that exceed 
 our comprehension. 
 
 * In the French, <( since extension constitutes the nature of body,® 
 
 f In the French, « because our perceptions arise from impressions 
 made upon us from another source, w i. e., than ourselves. 
 
PART I 
 
 3 ” 
 
 XXVI. That it is not needful to enter into disputes* 
 regarding the infinite, but merely to hold all that in which 
 we can find no limits as indefinite, such as the extension 
 of the world, the divisibility of the parts of matter, the 
 number of the stars, etc. 
 
 We will thus never embarrass ourselves by disputes 
 about the infinite, seeing it would be absurd for us who 
 are finite to undertake to determine anything regarding 
 it, and thus as it were to limit it by endeavoring to com- 
 prehend it. We will accordingly give ourselves no con- 
 cern to reply to those who demand whether the half of 
 an infinite line is also infinite, and whether an infinite 
 number is even or odd, and the like, because it is only 
 such as imagine their minds to be infinite who seem 
 bound to entertain questions of this sort. And, for our 
 part, looking to all those things in which in certain senses, 
 we discover no limits, we will not, therefore, affirm that 
 they are infinite, but will regard them simply as indefi- 
 nite. Thus, because we cannot imagine extension so 
 great that we cannot still conceive greater, we will say 
 that the magnitude of possible things is indefinite, and 
 because a body cannot be divided into parts so small that 
 each of these may not be conceived as again divided into 
 others still smaller, let us regard quantity as divisible 
 into parts whose number is indefinite; and as we cannot 
 imagine so many stars that it would seem impossible for 
 God to create more, let us suppose that their number is 
 indefinite, and so in other instances. 
 
 XXVII. What difference there is between the indefinite 
 and the infinite. 
 
 And we will call those things indefinite rather than 
 infinite, with the view of reserving to God alone the 
 appellation of infinite ; in the first place, because not only 
 do we discover in him alone no limits on any side, but 
 also because we positively conceive that he admits of 
 none; and in the second place, because we do not in the 
 same way positively conceive that other things are in 
 every part unlimited, but merely negatively admit that 
 their limits, if they have any, cannot be discovered by us. 
 
 XXVIII. That we must examine, not the final, but the 
 Bfficent, causes of created things. 
 
 Likewise, finally, we will not seek reasons of natural 
 
 * (< To essay to comprehend the infinite. » — French. 
 
312 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 things from the end which God or nature proposed to 
 himself in their creation (z. e., final causes),* for we 
 ought not to presume so far as to think that we are 
 sharers in the counsels of Deity, but, considering him as 
 the efficient cause of all things, let us endeavor to discover 
 by the natural light f which he has planted in us, applied 
 to those of his attributes of which he has been willing 
 we should have some knowledge, what must be con- 
 cluded regarding those effects we perceive by our senses; 
 bearing in mind, however, what has been already said, 
 that we must only confide in this natural light so long 
 as nothing contrary to its dictates is revealed by God 
 himself. J 
 
 XXIX. That God is not the cause of our errors. 
 
 The first attribute of God which here falls to be con- 
 sidered, is that he is absolutely veracious and the source 
 of all light, so that it is plainly repugnant for him to 
 deceive us, or to be properly and positively the cause of the 
 errors to which we are consciously subject; for although 
 the address to deceive seems to be some mark of subtlety 
 of mind among men, yet without doubt the will to de- 
 ceive only proceeds from malice or from fear and weak- 
 ness, and consequently cannot be attributed to God. 
 
 XXX. That consequently all which we clearly perceive 
 is true, and that we are thus delivered from the doubts 
 above proposed. 
 
 Whence it follows, that the light of nature, or faculty 
 of knowledge given us by God, can never compass any 
 object which is not true, in as far as it attains to a 
 knowledge of it, that is, in as far as the object is clearly 
 and distinctly apprehended. For God would have merited 
 the appellation of a deceiver if he had given us this fac- 
 ulty perverted, and such as might lead us to take falsity 
 for truth [when we used it aright]. Thus the highest 
 doubt is removed, which arose from our ignorance on the 
 point as to whether perhaps our nature was such that we 
 might be deceived even in those things that appear to us 
 
 * <( We will not stop to consider the ends which God proposed to him- 
 self in the creation of the world, and we will entirely reject from our 
 philosophy the search of final causes.” — French. 
 
 f <( Faculty of reasoning.” — French. 
 
 f The last clause, beginning « bearing in mind,” is omitted in the 
 French. 
 
PART I 
 
 3i3 
 
 the most evident. The same principle ought also to be of 
 avail against all the other grounds of doubting that have 
 been already enumerated. For mathematical truths ought 
 now to be above suspicion, since these are of the clearest. 
 And if we perceive anything by our senses, whether while 
 awake or asleep, we will easily discover the truth, pro- 
 vided we separate what there is of clear and distinct in 
 the knowledge from what is obscure and confused. There 
 is no need that I should here say more on this subject, 
 since it has already received ample treatment in the 
 metaphysical Meditations; and what follows will serve to 
 explain it still more accurately. 
 
 XXXI. That our errors are, in respect of God, merely 
 negations, but, in respect of ourselves, privations. 
 
 But as it happens that we frequently fall into error, 
 although God is no deceiver, if we desire to inquire into 
 the origin and cause of our errors, with a view to guard 
 against them, it is necessary to observe that they depend 
 less on our understanding than on our will, and that they 
 have no need of the actual concourse of God, in order to 
 their production; so that, when considered in reference 
 to God, they are merely negations, but in reference to 
 ourselves, privations. 
 
 XXXII. That there are only two modes of thinking in 
 us, viz, the perception of the understanding and the 
 action of the will. 
 
 For all the modes of thinking of which we are conscious 
 may be referred to two general classes, the one of which 
 is the perception or operation of the understanding, and 
 the other the volition or operation of the will. Thus, to 
 perceive by the senses ( sentire ), to imagine and to con- 
 ceive things purely intelligible, are only different modes 
 of perceiving ( percipiendi ) ; but to desire, to be averse 
 from, to affirm, to deny, to doubt, are different modes 
 of willing. 
 
 XXXIII. That we never err unless when we judge of 
 something which we do not sufficiently apprehend. 
 
 When we apprehend anything we are in no danger of 
 error, if we refrain from judging of it in any way; and 
 even when we have formed a judgment regarding it, we 
 would never fall into error, provided we gave our assent 
 only to what we clearly and distinctly perceived; but the 
 reason why we are usually deceived, is that we judge 
 
314 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 without possessing an exact knowledge of that of which 
 we judge. 
 
 XXXIV. That the will as well as the understanding is 
 required for judging. 
 
 I admit that the understanding is necessary for judging, 
 there being no room to suppose that we can judge of that 
 which we in no way apprehend ; but the will also is 
 required in order to our assenting to what we have in 
 any degree perceived. It is not necessary, however, at 
 least to form any judgment whatever, that we have an 
 entire and perfect apprehension of a thing; for we may 
 assent to many things of which we have only a very 
 obscure and confused knowledge. 
 
 XXXV. That the will is of greater extension than the 
 understanding, and is thus the source of our errors. 
 
 Further, the perception of the intellect extends only to 
 the few things that are presented to it, and is always 
 very limited : the will, on the other hand, may, in a certain 
 sense, be said to be infinite, because we observe nothing 
 that can be the object of the will of any other, even of 
 the unlimited will of God, to which ours cannot also ex- 
 tend, so that we easily carry it beyond the objects we 
 clearly perceive; and when we do this, it is not wonderful 
 that we happen to be deceived. 
 
 XXXVI. That our errors cannot be imputed to God. 
 
 But although God has not given us an omniscient un- 
 derstanding, he is not on this account to be considered in 
 any wise the author of our errors, for it is of the nature 
 of created intellect to be finite, and of finite intellect not 
 to embrace all things. 
 
 XXXVII. That the chief perfection of man is his being 
 able to act freely or by will, and that it is this which 
 renders him worthy of praise or blame. 
 
 That the will should be the more extensive is in har- 
 mony with its nature ; and it is a high perfection in man 
 to be able to act by means of it, that is, freely; and 
 thus in a peculiar way to be the master of his own 
 actions, and merit praise or blame. For self-acting ma- 
 chines are not commended because they perform with 
 exactness all the movements for which they were adapted, 
 seeing their motions are carried on necessarily; but the 
 maker of them is praised on account of the exactness 
 with which they were framed, because he did not act 
 
PART I 
 
 3i5 
 
 of necessity, but freely; and, on the same principle, 
 we must attribute to ourselves something more on this 
 account, that when we embrace truth, we do so not of 
 necessity, but freely. 
 
 XXXVIII. That error is a defect in our mode of act- 
 ing, not in our nature ; and that the faults of their subjects 
 may be frequently attributed to other masters, but never 
 to God. 
 
 It is true, that as often as we err, there is some defect 
 in our mode of action or in the use of our liberty, but 
 not in our nature, because this is always the same, 
 whether our judgments be true or false. And although 
 God could have given to us such perspicacity of intellect 
 that we should never have erred, we have, notwith- 
 standing, no right to demand this of him; for, although 
 with us he who was able to prevent evil and did not is 
 held guilty of it, God is not in the same way to be 
 reckoned responsible for our errors because he had the 
 power to prevent them, inasmuch as the dominion which 
 some men possess over others has been instituted for 
 the purpose of enabling them to hinder those under them 
 from doing evil, whereas the dominion which God ex- 
 ercises over the universe is perfectly absolute and free. 
 For this reason we ought to thank him for the goods 
 he has given us, and not complain that he has not 
 blessed us with all which we know it was in his power 
 to impart. 
 
 XXXIX. That the liberty of our will is self-evident. 
 
 Finally, it is so manifest that we possess a free will, 
 capable of giving or withholding its assent, that this 
 truth must be reckoned among the first and most com- 
 mon notions which are born with us. This, indeed, has 
 already very clearly appeared, for when essaying to doubt 
 of all things, we went so far as to suppose that even he 
 who created us employed his limitless power in deceiving 
 us in every way, we were conscious nevertheless of being 
 free to abstain from believing what was not in every 
 respect certain and undoubted. But that of which we 
 are unable to doubt at such a time is as self-evident and 
 clear as any thing we can ever know. 
 
 XL. That it is likewise certain that God has fore- 
 ordained all things. 
 
 But because what we have already discovered of God, 
 
3 1 6 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 gives us the assurance that his power is so immense that 
 we would sin in thinking ourselves capable of ever doing 
 anything which he had not ordained beforehand, we 
 should soon be embarrassed in great difficulties if we un- 
 dertook to harmonize the pre-ordination of God with the 
 freedom of our will, and endeavored to comprehend both 
 truths at once. 
 
 XLI. How the freedom of our will may be reconciled 
 with the Divine pre-ordination. 
 
 But, in place of this, we will be free from these em- 
 barrassments if we recollect that our mind is limited, 
 while the power of God, by which he not only knew 
 from all eternity what is or can be, but also willed and 
 pre-ordained it, is infinite. It thus happens that we pos- 
 sess sufficient intelligence to know clearly and distinctly 
 that this power is in God, but not enough to comprehend 
 how he leaves the free actions of men indeterminate; 
 and, on the other hand, we have such consciousness of 
 the liberty and indifference which exists in ourselves, 
 that there is nothing we more clearly or perfectly com- 
 prehend: [so that the omnipotence of God ought not to 
 keep us from believing it]. For it would be absurd to 
 doubt of that of which we are fully conscious, and which 
 we experience as existing in ourselves, because we do 
 not comprehend another matter which, from its very 
 nature, we know to be incomprehensible. 
 
 XLII. How, although we never will to err, it is never- 
 theless by our will that we do err. 
 
 But now since we know that all our errors depend upon 
 our will, and as no one wishes to deceive himself, it may 
 seem wonderful that there is any error in our judgments 
 at all. It is necessary to remark, however, that there 
 is a great difference between willing to be deceived, and 
 willing to yield assent to opinions in which it happens 
 that error is found. For though there is no one who 
 expressly wishes to fall into error, we will yet hardly 
 find anyone who is not ready to assent to things in 
 which, unknown to himself, error lurks; and it even fre- 
 quently happens that it is the desire itself of following 
 after truth that leads those not fully aware of the order 
 in which it ought to be sought for, to pass judgment on 
 matters of which they have no adequate knowledge, and 
 thus to fall into error. 
 
PART I 
 
 317 
 
 XLIII. That we shall never err if we give our assent 
 only to what we clearly and distinctly perceive. 
 
 But it is certain we will never admit falsity for truth, 
 so long as we judge only of that which we clearly and dis- 
 tinctly perceive ; because, as God is no deceiver, the faculty 
 of knowledge which he has given us cannot be fallacious, 
 nor, for the same reason, the faculty of will, when we do 
 not extend it beyond the objects we clearly know. And 
 even although this truth could not be established by 
 reasoning, the minds of all have been so impressed by 
 nature as spontaneously to assent to whatever is clearly 
 perceived, and to experience an impossibility to doubt of 
 its truth. 
 
 XL IV. That we uniformly judge improperly when we 
 assent to what we do not clearly perceive, although our 
 judgment may chance to be true; and that it is frequently 
 our memory which deceives us by leading us to believe 
 that certain things were formerly sufficiently understood 
 by us. 
 
 It is likewise certain that, when we approve of any 
 reason which we do not apprehend, we are either deceived, 
 or, if we stumble on the truth, it is only by chance, and 
 thus we can never possess the assurance that we are not 
 in error. I confess it seldom happens that we judge of a 
 thing when we have observed we do not apprehend it, 
 because it is a dictate of the natural light never to judge 
 of what we do not know. But we most frequently err in 
 this, that we presume upon a past knowledge of much to 
 which we give our assent, as to something treasured up in 
 the memory, and perfectly known to us ; whereas, in truth, 
 we have no such knowledge. 
 
 XLV. What constitutes clear and distinct percep- 
 tion. 
 
 There are indeed a great many persons who, through 
 their whole lifetime, never perceive anything in a way 
 necessary for judging of it properly; for the knowledge 
 upon which we can establish a certain and indubitable 
 judgment must be not only clear, but also distinct. I call 
 that clear which is present and manifest to the mind giv- 
 ing attention to it, just as we are said clearly to see ob- 
 jects 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 
 
318 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 and different from all other objects as to comprehend in 
 itself only what is clear.* 
 
 XLVI. It is shown, from the example of pain, that a 
 perception may be clear without being distinct, but that it 
 cannot be distinct unless it is clear. 
 
 For example, when any one feels intense pain, the 
 knowledge which he has of this pain is very clear, but it 
 is not always distinct; for men usually confound it with 
 the obscure judgment they form regarding its nature, 
 and think that there is in the suffering part something 
 similar to the sensation of pain of which they are alone 
 conscious. And thus perception may be clear without 
 being distinct, but it can never be distinct without like- 
 wise being clear. 
 
 XLVII. That, to correct the prejudices of our early 
 years, we must consider what is clear in each of our 
 simple f notions. 
 
 And, indeed, in our early years, the mind was so im- 
 mersed in the body, that, although it perceived many 
 things with sufficient clearness, it yet knew nothing dis- 
 tinctly; and since even at that time we exercised our 
 judgment in many matters, numerous prejudices were 
 thus contracted, which, by the majority, are never after- 
 ward laid aside. But that we may now be in a position 
 to get rid of these, I will here briefly enumerate all the 
 simple notions of which our thoughts are composed, and 
 distinguish in each what is clear from what is obscure, 
 or fitted to lead into error. 
 
 XLVIII. That all the objects of our knowledge are to 
 be regarded either ( i ) as things or the affections of 
 things ; or ( 2 ) as eternal truths ; with the enumeration 
 of things. 
 
 Whatever objects fall under our knowledge we con- 
 sider either as things or the affections of things, J or as 
 eternal truths possessing no existence beyond our thought. 
 Of the first class the most general are substance, dura- 
 tion, order, number, and perhaps also some others, which 
 
 * <( What appears manifestly to him who considers it as he ought.® 
 — French. 
 
 t (< First.® — French. 
 
 f Things and the affections of things are ( in the French ) equiva- 
 lent to (< what has some ( i. e. , a real ) existence, » as opposed to the 
 class of « eternal truths,” which have merely an ideal existence. 
 
PART I 
 
 3i9 
 
 notions apply to all the kinds of things. I do not, how- 
 ever, recognize more than two highest kinds ( summa 
 genera') of things; the first of intellectual things, or such 
 as have the power of thinking, including mind or think- 
 ing substance and its properties; the second, of material 
 things, embracing extended substance, or body and its 
 properties. Perception, volition, and all modes as well 
 of knowing as of willing, are related to thinking sub- 
 stance ; on the other hand, to extended substance we 
 refer magnitude, or extension in length, breadth, and 
 depth, figure, motion, situation, divisibility of parts them- 
 selves, and the like. There are, however, besides these, 
 certain things of which we have an internal experience 
 that ought not to be referred either to the mind of itself, 
 or to the body alone, but to the close and intimate 
 union between them, as will hereafter be shown in its 
 place. Of this class are the appetites of hunger and 
 thirst, etc., and also the emotions or passions of the 
 mind which are not exclusively mental affections, as the 
 emotions of anger, joy, sadness, love, etc. ; and finally, 
 all the sensations, as of pain, titillation, light, and colors, 
 sounds, smells, tastes, heat, hardness, and the other tac- 
 tile qualities. 
 
 XLIX. That the eternal truths cannot be thus enu- 
 merated, but that this is not necessary. 
 
 What I have already enumerated we are to regard as 
 things, or the qualities or modes of things. We now 
 come to speak of eternal truths. When we apprehend 
 that it is impossible a thing can arise from nothing, this 
 proposition ex nihilo nihil fit , is not considered as some- 
 thing existing, or as the mode of a thing, but as an 
 eternal truth having its seat in our mind, and is called 
 a common notion or axiom. Of this class are the follow- 
 ing: It is impossible the same thing can at once be and 
 
 not be; what is done cannot be undone; he who thinks 
 must exist while he thinks; and innumerable others, the 
 whole of which it is indeed difficult to enumerate, but 
 this is not necessary, since, if blinded by no prejudices, 
 we cannot fail to know them when the occasion of think- 
 ing them occurs. 
 
 L. That these truths are clearly perceived, but not 
 equally by all men, on account of prejudices. 
 
 And, indeed, with regard to these common notions, it 
 
320 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 is not to be doubted that they can be clearly and dis- 
 tinctly known, for otherwise they would not merit this 
 appellation : as, in truth, some of them are not, with respect 
 to all men, equally deserving of the name, because they 
 are not equally admitted by all : not, however, from this 
 reason, as I think, that the faculty of knowledge of one 
 man extends farther than that of another, but rather be- 
 cause these common notions are opposed to the prejudices 
 of some, who, on this account, are not able readily to em- 
 brace them, even although others, who are free from those 
 prejudices, apprehend them with the greatest clearness. 
 
 LI. What substance is, and that the term is not appli- 
 cable to God and the creatures in the same sense. 
 
 But with regard to what we consider as things or the 
 modes of things, it is worth while to examine each of 
 them by itself. 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 help of 
 the concourse of God. And, accordingly, the term sub- 
 stance does not apply to God and the creatures univocally, 
 to adopt a term familiar in the schools ; that is, no signifi- 
 cation of this word can be distinctly understood which is 
 common to God and them. 
 
 LI I. That the term is applicable univocally to the mind 
 and the body, and how substance itself is known. 
 
 Created substances, however, whether corporeal or 
 thinking, may be conceived under this common concept; 
 for these are things which, in order to their existence, 
 stand in need of nothing but the concourse of God. But 
 yet substance cannot be first discovered merely from its 
 being a thing which exists independently, for existence 
 by itself is not observed by us. We easily, however, dis- 
 cover substance itself from any attribute of it, by this 
 common notion, that of nothing there are no attributes, 
 properties, or qualities; for, from perceiving that some 
 attribute is present, we infer that some existing thing 01 
 substance to which it may be attributed is also of neces' 
 sity present. 
 
 LIII. That of every substance there is one principal 
 ittribute, as thinking of the mind, extension of the body. 
 
PART I 
 
 321 
 
 But, although any attribute is sufficient to lead us to 
 the knowledge of substance, there is, however, one prin- 
 cipal property of every substance, which constitutes its 
 nature or essence, and upon which all the others depend. 
 Thus, extension in length, breadth, and depth, constitutes 
 the nature of corporeal substance ; and thought the na- 
 ture of thinking substance. For every other thing 
 that can be attributed to body, presupposes extension, 
 and is only some mode of an extended thing; as all the 
 properties we discover in the mind are only diverse 
 modes of thinking. Thus, for example, we cannot con- 
 ceive figure unless in something extended, nor motion 
 unless in extended space, nor imagination, sensation, or 
 will, unless in a thinking thing. But, on the other hand, 
 we can conceive extension without figure or motion, and 
 thought without imagination or sensation, and so of the 
 others ; as is clear to any one who attends to these matters. 
 
 LIV. How we may have clear and distinct notions of 
 the substance which thinks, of that which is corporeal, 
 ^nd of God. 
 
 And thus we may easily have two clear and distinct 
 (lotions or ideas, the one of created substance, which 
 thinks, the other of corporeal substance, provided we 
 carefully distinguish all the attributes of thought from 
 those of extension. We may also have a clear and dis- 
 tinct idea of an uncreated and independent thinking sub- 
 stance, that is of God, provided we do not suppose that 
 this idea adequately represents to us all that is in God, 
 and do not mix up with it anything fictitious, but attend 
 simply to the characters that are comprised in the notion 
 we have of him, and which we clearly know to belong 
 to the nature of an absolutely perfect Being. For no one 
 can deny that there is in us such an idea of God, with- 
 out groundlessly supposing that there is no knowledge of 
 God at all in the human mind. 
 
 LV. How duration, order, and number may be also 
 distinctly conceived. 
 
 We will also have most distinct conceptions of duration, 
 order, and number, if, in place of mixing up with our 
 notions of them that which properly belongs to the con- 
 cept of substance, we merely think that the duration of 
 a thing is a mode under which we conceive this thing, 
 in so far as it continues to exist; and, in like manner, 
 31 
 
322 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 that order and number are not in reality different from 
 things disposed in order and numbered, but only modes 
 under which we diversely consider these things. 
 
 LVI. What are modes, qualities, attributes. 
 
 And, indeed, we here understand by modes the same 
 with what we elsewhere designate attributes or qualities. 
 But when we consider substance as affected or varied by 
 them, we use the term modes; when from this variation 
 it may be denominated of such a kind, we adopt the term 
 qualities [to designate the different modes which cause it 
 to be so named] ; and finally, when we simply regard 
 these modes as in the substance, we call them attributes. 
 Accordingly, since God must be conceived as superior to 
 change, it is not proper to say that there are modes or 
 qualities in him, but simply attributes; and even in cre- 
 ated things that which is found in them always in the 
 same mode, as existence and duration in the thing which 
 exists and endures, ought to be called attribute, and not 
 mode or quality. 
 
 LVII. That some attributes exist in the things to 
 which they are attributed, and others only in our thought ; 
 and what duration and time are. 
 
 Of these attributes or modes there are some which ex- 
 ist in the things themselves, and others that have only 
 an existence in our thought; thus, for example, time, 
 which we distinguish from duration taken in its gener- 
 ality, and call the measure of motion, is only a certain 
 mode under which we think duration itself, for we do 
 not indeed conceive the duration of things that are moved 
 to be different from the duration of things that are not 
 moved: as is evident from this, that if two bodies are in 
 motion for an hour, the one moving quickly and the 
 other slowly, we do not reckon more time in the one 
 than in the other, although there may be much more 
 motion in the one of the bodies than in the other. But 
 that we may comprehend the duration of all things under 
 a common measure, we compare their duration with that 
 of the greatest and most regular motions that give rise 
 to years and days, and which we call time; hence what 
 is so designated is nothing superadded to duration, taken 
 in its generality, but a mode of thinking. 
 
 LVIII. That number and all universals are only modes 
 of thought. 
 
PART I 
 
 323 
 
 In the same way number, when it is not considered 
 as in created things, but merely in the abstract or in 
 general, is only a mode of thinking, and the same is true 
 of all those general ideas we call universals. 
 
 LIX. How universals are formed; and what are the 
 five common, viz, genus, species, difference, property, 
 and accident. 
 
 Universals arise merely from our making use of 
 one and the same idea in thinking of all individual 
 objects between which there subsists a certain likeness; 
 and when we comprehend all the objects represented 
 by this idea under one name, this term likewise becomes 
 universal. For example, when we see two stones, and do 
 not regard their nature further than to remark that there 
 are two of them, we form the idea of a certain number, 
 which we call the binary; and when we afterward see 
 two birds or two trees, and merely take notice of them 
 so far as to observe that there are two of them, we 
 again take up the same idea as before, which is, accord- 
 ingly, universal ; and we likewise gave to this number the 
 same universal appellation of binary. In the same way, 
 when we consider a figure of three sides, we form a cer- 
 tain idea, which we call the idea of a triangle, and 
 we afterward make use of it as the universal to 
 represent to our mind all other figures of three sides. 
 But when we remark more particularly that of figures of 
 three sides, some have a right angle and others not, we 
 form the universal idea of a right-angled triangle, which 
 being related to the preceding as more general, may be 
 called species; and the right angle the universal differ- 
 ence by which right-angled triangles are distinguished 
 from all others; and further, because the square of the 
 side which sustains the right angle is equal to the squares 
 of the other two sides, and because this property belongs 
 only to this species of triangles, we may call it the uni- 
 versal property of the species. Finally, if we suppose 
 that of these triangles some are moved and others not, 
 this will be their universal accident ; and, accordingly, we 
 commonly reckon five universals, viz, genus, species, 
 difference, property, accident. 
 
 LX. Of distinctions; and first of the real. 
 
 But number in things themselves arises from the dis- 
 tinction there is between them: and distinction is three- 
 
324 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 fold, viz, real, modal, and of reason. The real properly 
 subsists between two or more substances; and it is suffi- 
 cient to assure us that two substances are really mutually 
 distinct, if only we are able clearly and distinctly to con- 
 ceive the one of them without the other. For the knowl- 
 edge we have of God renders it certain that he can effect 
 all that of which we have a distinct idea; wherefore, since 
 we have now, for example, the idea of an extended and 
 corporeal substance, though we as yet do not know with 
 certainty whether any such thing is really existent, never- 
 theless, merely because we have the idea of it, we may be 
 assured that such may exist; and, if it really exists, that 
 every part which we can determine by thought must be 
 really distinct from the other parts of the same substance. 
 In the same way, since everyone is conscious that he 
 thinks, and that he in thought can exclude from himself 
 every other substance, whether thinking or extended, it is 
 certain that each of us thus considered is really distinct 
 from every other thinking and corporeal substance. And 
 although we suppose that God united a body to a soul so 
 closely that it was impossible to form a more intimate 
 union, and thus made a composite whole, the two sub- 
 stances would remain really distinct, notwithstanding this 
 union : for with whatever tie God connected them, he was 
 not able to rid himself of the power he possessed of sepa- 
 rating them, or of conserving the one apart from the 
 other, and the things which God can separate or con- 
 serve separately are really distinct. 
 
 LXI. Of the modal distinction. 
 
 There are two kinds of modal distinctions, viz, that 
 between the mode properly so-called and the substance 
 of which it is a mode, and that between two modes of 
 the same substance. Of the former we have an example 
 in this, that we can clearly apprehend substance apart 
 from the mode which we say differs from it; while, on 
 the other hand, we cannot conceive this mode without 
 conceiving the substance itself. There is, for example, 
 a modal distinction between figure or motion and cor- 
 poreal substance in which both exist; there is a similar 
 distinction between affirmation or recollection and the 
 mind. Of the latter kind we have an illustration in our 
 ability to recognize the one of two modes apart from the 
 other, as figure apart from motion, and motion apart from 
 
PART I 
 
 325 
 
 figure ; though we cannot think of either the one or the 
 other without thinking of the common substance in which 
 they adhere. If, for example, a stone is moved, and is 
 withal square, we can, indeed, conceive its square figure 
 without its motion, and reciprocally its motion without 
 its square figure; but we can conceive neither this mo- 
 tion nor this figure apart from the substance of the stone. 
 As for the distinction according to which the mode of 
 one substance is different from another substance, or from 
 the mode of another substance as the motion of one body 
 is different from another body or from the mind, or as 
 motion is different from doubt, it seems to me that it 
 should be called real rather than modal, because these 
 modes cannot be clearly conceived apart from the really 
 distinct substances of which they are the modes. 
 
 LXII. Of the distinction of reason (logical distinction). 
 
 Finally, the distinction of reason is that between a 
 substance and some one of its attributes, without which 
 it is impossible, however, we can have a distinct con- 
 ception of the substance itself; or between two such 
 attributes of a common substance, the one of which we 
 essay to think without the other. This distinction is 
 manifest from our inability to form a clear and distinct 
 idea of such substance, if we separate from it such 
 attribute ; or to have a clear perception of the one of 
 two such attributes if we separate it from the other. 
 For example, because any substance which ceases to 
 endure ceases also to exist, duration is not distinct from 
 substance except in thought ( ratione ); and in general all 
 the modes of thinking which we consider as in objects 
 differ only in thought, as well from the objects of which 
 they are thought as from each other in a common 
 object.* It occurs, indeed, to me that I have elsewhere 
 classed this kind of distinction with the modal ( viz, 
 toward the end of the Reply to the First Objections to 
 the Meditations on the First Philosophy ) ; but there it 
 was only necessary to treat of these distinctions generally, 
 
 * « And generally all the attributes that lead us to entertain different 
 thoughts of the same thing, such as, for example, the extension 
 of body and its property of divisibility, do not differ from the body 
 which is to us the object of them, or from each other, unless as we 
 sometimes confusedly think the one without thinking the other. »• — 
 French. 
 
326 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 and it was sufficient for my purpose at that time simply 
 to distinguish both of them from the real. 
 
 LXIII. How thought and extension may be distinctly 
 known, as constituting, the one the nature of mind, the 
 other that of body. 
 
 Thought and extension may be regarded as constitut- 
 ing the natures of intelligent and corporeal substance; 
 and then they must not be otherwise conceived than as 
 the thinking and extended substances themselves, that 
 is, as mind and body, which in this way are conceived 
 with the greatest clearness and distinctness. Moreover, 
 we more easily conceive extended or thinking substance 
 than substance by itself, or with the omission of its 
 thinking or extension. For there is some difficulty in 
 abstracting the notion of substance from the notions of 
 thinking and extension, which, in truth, are only diverse 
 in thought itself ( i. e . , logically different ) ; and a con- 
 cept is not more distinct because it comprehends fewer 
 properties, but because we accurately distinguish what is 
 comprehended in it from all other notions. 
 
 LXIV. How these may likewise be distinctly conceived 
 as modes of substance. 
 
 Thought and extension may be also considered as modes 
 of substance; in as far, namely, as the same mind may 
 have many different thoughts, and the same body, with 
 its size unchanged, may be extended in several diverse 
 ways, at one time more in length and less in breadth or 
 depth, and at another time more in breadth and less in 
 length ; and then they are modally distinguished from 
 substance, and can be conceived not less clearly and 
 distinctly, provided they be not regarded as substances 
 or things separated from others, but simply as modes of 
 things. For by regarding them as in the substances 
 of which they are the modes, we distinguish them 
 from these substances, and take them for what in truth 
 they are: whereas, on the other hand, if we wish to 
 consider them apart from the substances in which they 
 are, we should by this itself regard them as self-sub- 
 sisting things, and thus confound the ideas of mode and 
 substance. 
 
 LXV. How we may likewise know their modes. 
 
 In the same way we will best apprehend the diverse 
 modes of thought, as intellection, imagination, recollec- 
 
PART I 
 
 32 7 
 
 tion, volition, etc., and also the diverse modes of exten- 
 sion, or those that belong to extension-, as all figures, 
 the situation of parts and their motions, provided we 
 consider them simply as modes of the things in which 
 they are; and motion as far as it is concerned, provided 
 we think merely of locomotion, without seeking to know 
 the force that produces it, and which nevertheless I will 
 essay to explain in its own place. 
 
 LXVI. How our sensations, affections, and appetites 
 may be clearly known, although we are frequently wrong 
 in our judgments regarding them. 
 
 There remain our sensations, affections, and appetites, 
 of which we may also have a clear knowledge, if we take 
 care to comprehend in the judgments we form of them 
 only that which is precisely contained in our perception 
 of them, and of which we are immediately conscious. 
 There is, however, great difficulty in observing this, at 
 least in respect of sensations; because we have all, with- 
 out exception, from our youth judged that all the things 
 we perceived by our senses had an existence beyond our 
 thought, and that they were entirely similar to the sensa- 
 tions, that is, perceptions, we had of them. Thus when, 
 for example, we saw a certain color, we thought we saw 
 something occupying a place out of us, and which was 
 entirely similar to that idea of color we were then con- 
 scious of; and from the habit of judging in this way, we 
 seemed to see this so clearly and distinctly that we 
 esteemed it ( i. e., the externality of the color) certain 
 and indubitable. 
 
 LXVII. That we are frequently deceived in our judg- 
 ments regarding pain itself. 
 
 The same prejudice has place in all our other sensa- 
 tions, even in those of titillation and pain. For though 
 we are not in the habit of believing that there exist out 
 of us objects that resemble titillation and pain, we do 
 not, nevertheless, consider these sensations as in the mind 
 alone, or in our perception, but as in the hand, or foot, 
 or some other part of our body. There is no reason, 
 however, to constrain us to believe that the pain, for 
 example, which we feel, as it were in the foot, is some- 
 thing out of the mind existing in the foot, or that the 
 light which we see, as it were, in the sun exists in 
 sun as it is in us. Both these beliefs are preju- 
 
328 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 dices of our early years, as will clearly appear in the 
 sequel. 
 
 LXVIII. How in these things what we clearly conceive 
 is to be distinguished from that in which we may be de- 
 ceived. 
 
 But that we may distinguish what is clear in our sen- 
 sations from what is obscure, we ought most carefully to 
 observe that we possess a clear and distinct knowledge 
 of pain, color, and other things of this sort, when we 
 consider them simply as sensations or thoughts; but that, 
 when they are judged to be certain things subsisting 
 beyond our mind, we are wholly unable to form any con- 
 ception of them. Indeed, when any one tells us that he 
 sees color in a body or feels pain in one of his limbs, 
 this is exactly the same as if he said that he there saw 
 or felt something of the nature of which he was entirely 
 ignorant, or that he did not know what he saw or felt. 
 For although, when less attentively examining his 
 thoughts, a person may easily persuade himself that he 
 has some knowledge of it, since he supposes that there is 
 something resembling that sensation of color or of pain 
 of which he is conscious; yet, if he reflects on what the 
 sensation of color or pain represents to him as existing 
 in a colored body or in a wounded member, he will find 
 that of such he has absolutely no knowledge. 
 
 LXIX. That magnitude, figure, etc., are known far dif- 
 ferently from color, pain, etc. 
 
 What we have said above will be more manifest, espe- 
 cially if we consider that size in the body perceived, 
 figure, motion ( at least local, for philosophers by fancy- 
 ing other kinds of motion have rendered its nature less 
 intelligible to themselves), the situation of parts, dura- 
 tion, number, and those other properties which, as we 
 have already said, we clearly perceive in all bodies, are 
 known by us in a way altogether different from that in 
 which we know what color is in the same body, or pain, 
 smell, taste, or any other of those properties which I 
 have said above must be referred to the senses. For 
 although when we see a body we are not less assured of 
 its existence from its appearing figured than from its 
 appearing colored,* we yet know with far greater clear- 
 ness its property of figure than its color. 
 
 *« By the color we perceive on occasion of it.” — French. 
 
PART I 
 
 329 
 
 LXX. That we may judge of sensible things in two 
 ways, by the one of which we avoid error, by the other 
 fall into it. 
 
 It is thus manifest that to say we perceive colors in 
 objects is in reality equivalent to saying we perceive 
 something in objects and are yet ignorant of what it is, 
 except as that which determines in us a certain highly 
 vivid and clear sensation, which we call the sensation of 
 colors. There is, however, very great diversity in the 
 manner of judging: for so long as we simply judge that 
 there is an unknown something in objects (that is, in 
 things such as they are, from which the sensation reached 
 us), so far are we from falling into error that, on the 
 contrary, we thus rather provide against it, for we are 
 less apt to judge rashly of a thing which we observe we 
 do not know. But when we think we perceive colors in 
 objects, although we are in reality ignorant of what we 
 then denominate color, and are unable to conceive any 
 resemblance between the color we suppose to be in ob- 
 jects, and that of which we are conscious in sensation, 
 yet because we do not observe this, or because there are 
 in objects several properties, as size, figure, number, etc., 
 which, as we clearly know, exist, or may exist in them 
 as they are perceived by our senses or conceived by our 
 understanding, we easily glide into the error of holding 
 that what is called color in objects is something entirely 
 resembling the color we perceive, and thereafter of sup- 
 posing that we have a clear perception of what is in no 
 way perceived by us. 
 
 LXXI. That the chief cause of our errors is to be 
 found in the prejudices of our childhood. 
 
 And here we may notice the first and chief cause of 
 our errors. In early life the mind was so closely bound 
 to the body that it attended to nothing beyond the 
 thoughts by which it perceived the objects that made im- 
 pression on the body ; nor as yet did it refer these 
 thoughts to anything existing beyond itself, but simply 
 felt pain when the body was hurt, or pleasure when any- 
 thing beneficial to the body occurred, or if the body was 
 so slightly affected that it was neither greatly benefited 
 nor hurt, the mind experienced the sensations we call 
 tastes, smells, sounds, heat, cold, light, colors, and the 
 like, which in truth are representative of nothing exist- 
 
33 ° 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ing out of our mind, and which vary according to the 
 diversities of the parts and modes in which the body is 
 affected.* The mind at the same time also perceived 
 magnitudes, figures, motions, and the like, which were 
 not presented to it as sensations but as things of the 
 modes of things existing, or at least capable of existing 
 out of thought, although it did not yet observe this dif- 
 ference between these two kinds of perceptions. And 
 afterward when the machine of the body, which has 
 been so fabricated by nature that it can of its own in- 
 herent power move itself in various ways, by turning 
 itself at random on every side, followed after what was 
 useful and avoided what was detrimental ; the mind, which 
 was closely connected with it, reflecting on the objects it 
 pursued or avoided, remarked, for the first time, that 
 they existed out of itself, and not only attributed to them 
 magnitudes, figures, motions, and the like, which it ap- 
 prehended either as things or as the modes of things, 
 but, in addition, attributed to them tastes, odors and the 
 other ideas of that sort, the sensations of which were 
 caused by itself ;f and as it only considered other objects 
 in so far as they were useful to the body, in which it was 
 immersed, it judged that there was greater or less reality 
 in each object, according as the impressions it caused on 
 the body were more or less powerful. Hence arose the 
 belief that there was more substance or body in rocks 
 and metals than in air or water, because the mind per- 
 ceived 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 sup- 
 posed that each star was but of this size. Again, since 
 the mind did not observe 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. And our mind has been 
 imbued from our infancy with a thousand other preju- 
 
 * « Which vary according to the diversities of the movements that 
 pass from all parts of our body to the part of the brain to which 
 it (the mind) is closely joined and united. ® — French. 
 
 f « Which it perceived on occasion of them » ( i. e . , of external ob- 
 jects ). — French. 
 
PART I 
 
 33i 
 
 dices of the same sort, which afterward in our youth we 
 forgot we had accepted without sufficient examination, 
 and admitted as possessed of the highest truth and clear- 
 ness, as if they had been known by means of our senses, 
 or implanted in us by nature. 
 
 LXXII. That the second cause of our errors is that we 
 cannot forget these prejudices. 
 
 And although now in our mature years, when the mind, 
 being no longer wholly subject to the body, is not in the 
 habit of referring all things to it, but also seeks to dis- 
 cover the truth of things considered in themselves, we 
 observe the falsehood of a great many of the judgments 
 we had before formed; yet we experience a difficulty in 
 expunging them from our memory, and, so long as they 
 remain there, they give rise to various errors. Thus, for 
 example, since from our earliest years we imagined the 
 stars to be of very small size, we find it highly difficult 
 to rid ourselves of this imagination, although assured by 
 plain astronomical reasons that they are of the greatest, 
 so prevailing is the power of preconceived opinion. 
 
 LXXIII. The third cause is, that we become fatigued 
 by attending to those objects which are not present to 
 the senses ; and that we are thus accustomed to judge of these 
 not from present perception but from preconceived opinion. 
 
 Besides, our mind cannot attend to any object without 
 at length experiencing some pain and fatigue ; and of all 
 objects it has the greatest difficulty in attending to those 
 which are present neither to the senses nor to the imagina- 
 tion : whether for the reason that this is natural to it from 
 its union with the body, or because in our early years, 
 being occupied merely with perceptions and imaginations, 
 it has become more familiar with, and acquired greater 
 facility in thinking in those modes than in any other. 
 Hence it also happens that many are unable to conceive 
 any substance except what is imaginable and corporeal, 
 and even sensible. For they are ignorant of the circum- 
 stance, that those objects alone are imaginable which con- 
 sist in extension, motion, and figure, while there are 
 many others besides these that are intelligible; and they 
 persuade themselves that nothing can subsist but body, 
 and, finally, that there is no body which is not sensible. 
 And since in truth we perceive no object such as it is by 
 sense alone (but only by our reason exercised upon sen- 
 
332 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 sible objects], as will hereafter be clearly shown, it thus 
 happens that the majority during life perceive nothing 
 unless in a confused way. 
 
 LXXIV. The fourth source of our errors is, that we 
 attach our thoughts to words which do not express them 
 with accuracy. 
 
 Finally, since for the use of speech we attach all our 
 conceptions to words by which to express them, and 
 commit to memory our thoughts in connection with these 
 terms, and as we afterward find it more easy to recall 
 the words than the things signified by them, we can 
 scarcely conceive anything with such distinctness as to 
 separate entirely what we conceive from the words that 
 were selected to express it. On this account the 
 majority attend to words rather than to things; and thus 
 very frequently assent to terms without attaching to 
 them any meaning, either because they think they once 
 understood them, or imagine they received them from 
 others by whom they were correctly understood. This, 
 however, is not the place to treat of this matter in de- 
 tail, seeing the nature of the human body has not 
 yet been expounded, nor the existence even of body 
 established; enough, nevertheless, appears to have been 
 said to enable one to distinguish such of our conceptions 
 as are clear and distinct from those that are obscure and 
 confused. 
 
 LXXV. Summary of what must be observed in order to 
 philosophize correctly. 
 
 Wherefore if we would philosophize in earnest, and give 
 ourselves to the search after all the truths we are cap- 
 able of knowing, we must, in the first place, lay aside 
 our prejudices; in other words, we must take care scrup- 
 ulously to withhold our assent from the opinions we have 
 formerly admitted, until upon new examination we dis- 
 cover that they are true. We must, in the next place, 
 make an orderly review of the notions we have in our 
 minds, and hold as true all and only those which we will 
 clearly and distinctly apprehend. In this way we will 
 observe, first of all, that we exist in so far as it is our 
 nature to think, and at the same time that there is a 
 God upon whom we depend; and after considering his 
 attributes we will be able to investigate the truth of all 
 other things, since God is the cause of them. Besides 
 
PART II 
 
 333 
 
 the notions we have of God and of our mind, we will 
 likewise find that we possess the knowledge of many 
 propositions which are eternally true, as, for example, 
 that nothing cannot be the cause of anything, etc. We 
 will further discover in our minds the knowledge of a 
 corporeal or extended nature that may be moved, divided, 
 etc., and also of certain sensations that affect us, as of 
 pain, colors, tastes, etc., although we do not yet know 
 the cause of our being so affected; and, comparing what 
 we have now learned, by examining those things in their 
 order, with our former confused knowledge of them, we 
 will acquire the habit of forming clear and distinct con- 
 ceptions of all the objects we are capable of knowing. In 
 these few precepts seem to me to be comprised the most 
 general and important principles of human kowledge. 
 
 LXXVI. That we ought to prefer the Divine authority 
 to our perception:* but that, apart from things revealed, 
 we ought to assent to nothing that we do not clearly 
 apprehend. 
 
 Above all we must impress on our memory the infalli- 
 ble rule, that what God has revealed is incomparably 
 more certain than anything else; and that we ought to 
 submit our belief to the Divine authority rather than to 
 our own judgment, even although perhaps the light of 
 reason should, with the greatest clearness and evidence, 
 appear to suggest to us something contrary to what is 
 revealed. But in things regarding which there is no 
 revelation, it is by no means consistent with the character 
 of a philosopher to accept as true what he has not 
 ascertained to be such, and to trust more to the senses, 
 in other words, to the inconsiderate judgments of child- 
 hood than to the dictates of mature reason. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Of the Principles of Material Things. 
 
 I. The grounds on which the existence of material 
 things may be known with certainty. 
 
 Although we are all sufficiently persuaded of the exist- 
 ence of material things, yet, since this was before called 
 * <( Reasonings.® — French. 
 
334 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 in question by us, and since we reckoned the persuasion 
 of their existence as among the prejudices of our child- 
 hood, it is now necessary for us to investigate the grounds 
 on which this truth may be known with certainty. In the 
 first place, then, it cannot be doubted that every percep- 
 tion we have comes to us from some object different from 
 our mind; for it is not in our power to cause ourselves 
 to experience one perception rather than another, the per- 
 ception being entirely dependent on the object which 
 affects our senses. It may, indeed, be matter of inquiry 
 whether that object be God, or something different from 
 God; but because we perceive, or rather, stimulated by 
 sense, clearly and distinctly apprehend, certain matter ex- 
 tended in length, breadth, and thickness, the various parts 
 of which have different figures and motions, and give rise 
 to the sensations we have of colors, smells, pain, etc., God 
 would, without question, deserve to be regarded as a de- 
 ceiver, if he directly and of himself presented to our mind 
 the idea of this extended matter, or merely caused it to 
 be presented to us by some object which possessed neither 
 extension, figure, nor motion. For we clearly conceive 
 this matter as entirely distinct from God, and from our- 
 selves, or our mind; and appear even clearly to discern 
 that the idea of it is formed in us on occasion of objects 
 existing out of our minds, to which it is in every respect 
 similar. But since God cannot deceive us, for this is 
 repugnant to his nature, as has been already remarked, 
 we must unhesitatingly conclude that there exists a certain 
 object extended in length, breadth, and thickness, and 
 possessing all those properties which we clearly apprehend 
 to belong to what is extended. And this extended sub- 
 stance is what we call body or matter. 
 
 II. How we likewise know that the human body is 
 closely connected with the mind. 
 
 We ought also to conclude that a certain body is more 
 closely united to our mind than any other, because we 
 clearly observe that pain and other sensations affect us 
 without our foreseeing them ; and these, the mind is con- 
 scious, do not arise from itself alone, nor pertain to it, in 
 so far as it is a thing which thinks, but only in so far 
 as it is united to another thing extended and movable, 
 which is called the human body. But this is not the 
 place to treat in detail of this matter. 
 
PART II 
 
 335 
 
 III. That the perceptions of the senses do not teach 
 us what is in reality in things, but what is beneficial or 
 hurtful to the composite whole of mind and body. 
 
 It will be sufficient to remark that the perceptions of 
 the senses are merely to be referred to this intimate 
 union of the human body and mind, and that they 
 usually make us aware of what, in external objects, may 
 be useful or adverse to this union, but do not present to 
 us these objects as they are in themselves, unless occa- 
 sionally and by accident. For, after this observation, we 
 will without difficulty lay aside the prejudices of the senses, 
 and will have recourse to our understanding alone on 
 this question, by reflecting carefully on the ideas im- 
 planted in it by nature. 
 
 IV. That the nature of body consists not in weight, 
 hardness, color, and the like, but in extension alone. 
 
 In this way we will discern that the nature of matter 
 or body considered in general, does not consist in its 
 being hard, or ponderous, or colored, or that which affects 
 our senses in any other way, but simply in its being a 
 substance extended in length, breadth, and depth. For, 
 with respect to hardness, we know nothing of it by sense 
 farther than that the parts of hard bodies resist the 
 motion of our hands on coming into contact with them; 
 but if every time our hands moved toward any part, all 
 the bodies in that place receded as quickly as our hands 
 approached, we should never feel hardness; and yet we 
 have no reason to believe that bodies which might thus 
 recede would on this account lose that which makes them 
 bodies. The nature of body does not, therefore, consist 
 in hardness. In the same way, it may be shown that 
 weight, color, and all the other qualities of this sort, 
 which are perceived in corporeal matter, may be taken 
 from it, itself meanwhile remaining entire : it thus follows 
 that the nature of body depends on none of these. 
 
 V. That the truth regarding the nature of body is ob- 
 scured by the opinions respecting rarefaction and a vacuum 
 with which we are preoccupied. 
 
 There still remain two causes to prevent its being fully 
 admitted that the true nature of body consists in extension 
 alone. The first is the prevalent opinion, that most bodies 
 admit of being so rarefied and condensed that, when rare- 
 fied, they have greater extension than when condensed; 
 
336 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 and some even have subtilized to such a degree as to make 
 a distinction between the substance of body and its quan- 
 tity, and between quantity itself and extension. The sec- 
 ond cause is this, that where we conceive only extension 
 in length, breadth, and depth, we are not in the habit 
 of saying that body is there, but only space and further void 
 space, which the generality believe to be a mere negation. 
 
 VI. In what way rarefaction takes place. 
 
 But with regard to rarefaction and condensation, who- 
 ever gives his attention to his own thoughts, and admits 
 nothing of which he is not clearly conscious, will not 
 suppose that there is anything in those processes further 
 than a change of figure in the body rarefied or condensed ; 
 so that, in other words, rare bodies are those between the 
 parts of which there are numerous distances filled with 
 other bodies; and dense bodies, on the other hand, those 
 whose parts approaching each other, either diminish these 
 distances, or take them wholly away, in the latter of which 
 cases the body is rendered absolutely dense. The body, 
 however, when condensed, has not, therefore, less exten- 
 sion than when the parts embrace a greater space, owing 
 to their removal from each other, and their dispersion 
 into branches. For we ought not to attribute to it the 
 extension of the pores or distances which its parts do 
 not occupy when it is rarefied, but to the other bodies 
 that fill these interstices; just as when we see a sponge 
 full of water or any other liquid, we do not suppose that 
 each part of the sponge has on this account greater ex- 
 tension than when compressed and dry, but only that its 
 pores are wider, and therefore that the body is diffused 
 over a larger space. 
 
 VII. That rarefaction cannot be intelligibly explained 
 unless in the way here proposed. 
 
 And indeed I am unable to discover the force of the 
 reasons which have induced some to say that rarefaction is 
 the result of the augmentation of the quantity of body, 
 rather than to explain it on the principle exemplified in 
 the case of a sponge. For although when air or water 
 are rarefied we do not see any of the pores that are ren- 
 dered large, or the new body that is added to occupy them, 
 it is yet less agreeable to reason to suppose something that 
 is unintelligible for the purpose of giving a verbal and 
 merely apparent explanation of the rarefaction of bodies, 
 
PART II 
 
 337 
 
 than to conclude, because of their rarefaction, that there 
 are pores or distances between the parts which are 
 increased in size, and filled with some new body. Nor 
 ought we to refrain from assenting to this explanation, 
 because we perceive this new body by none of our senses, 
 for there is no reason which obliges us to believe that we 
 should perceive by our senses all the bodies in existence. 
 And we see that it is very easy to explain rarefaction in 
 this manner, but impossible in any other; for, in fine, 
 there would be, as appears to me, a manifest contradiction 
 in supposing that any body was increased by a quantity or 
 extension which it had not before, without the addition to 
 it of a new extended substance, in other words, of another 
 body, because it is impossible to conceive any addition of 
 extension or quantity to a thing without supposing the 
 addition of a substance having quantity or extension, as 
 will more clearly appear from what follows. 
 
 VIII. That quantity and number differ only in thought 
 ( ratione ) from that which has quantity and is numbered. 
 
 For quantity differs from extended substance, and num- 
 ber from what is numbered, not in reality but merely in 
 our thought; so that, for example, we may consider the 
 whole nature of a corporeal substance which is comprised 
 in a space of ten feet, although we do not attend to this 
 measure of ten feet, for the obvious reason that the thing 
 conceived is of the same nature in any part of that space 
 as in the whole; and, on the other hand, we can con- 
 ceive the number ten, as also a continuous quantity of 
 ten feet, without thinking of this determinate substance, 
 because the concept of the number ten is manifestly the 
 same whether we consider a number of ten feet or ten 
 of anything else ; and we can conceive a continuous 
 quantity of ten feet without thinking of this or that de- 
 terminate substance, although we cannot conceive it with- 
 out some extended substance of which it is the quantity. 
 It is in reality, however, impossible that any, even th<e 
 least part, of such quantity or extension, can be taken 
 away, without the retrenchment at the same time of as 
 much of the substance, nor on the other hand can we 
 lessen the substance without at the same time taking as 
 much from the quantity or extension. 
 
 IX. That corporeal substance, when distinguished from its 
 quantity, is confusedly conceived as something incorporeal. 
 
 22 
 
338 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OP PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Although perhaps some express themselves otherwise 
 on this matter, I am nevertheless convinced that they clo 
 not think differently from what I have now said: for 
 when they distinguish (corporeal) substance from exten- 
 sion or quantity, they either mean nothing by the word 
 (corporeal) substance, or they form in their mind merely 
 a confused idea of incorporeal substance, which they falsely 
 attribute to corporeal, and leave to extension the true idea 
 of this corporeal substance ; which extension they call an 
 accident, but with such impropriety as to make it easy 
 to discover that their words are not in harmony with 
 their thoughts. 
 
 X. What space or internal place is. 
 
 Space or internal place, and the corporeal substance 
 which is comprised in it, are not different in reality, but 
 merely in the mode in which they are wont to be con- 
 ceived by us. For, in truth, the same extension in 
 length, breadth, and depth, which constitutes space, con- 
 stitutes body; and the difference between them lies only 
 in this, that in body we consider extension as particular, 
 and conceive it to change with the body; whereas in 
 space we attribute to extension a generic unity, so that 
 after taking from a certain space the body which occu- 
 pied it, we do not suppose that we have at the same time 
 removed the extension of the space, because it appears to 
 us that the same extension remains there so long as it is 
 of the same magnitude and figure, and preserves the same 
 situation in respect to certain bodies around it, by means 
 of which we determine this space. 
 
 XI. How space is not in reality different from cor- 
 poreal substance. 
 
 And indeed it will be easy to discern that it is the 
 same extension which constitutes the nature of body as 
 of space, and that these two things are mutually diverse 
 only as the nature of the genus and species differs from 
 that of the individual, provided we reflect on the idea we 
 have of any body, taking a stone for example, and re- 
 ject all that is not essential to the nature of body. In 
 the first place, then, hardness may be rejected, because 
 if the stone were liquefied or reduced to powder, it 
 would no longer possess hardness, and yet would not 
 cease to be a body ; color also may be thrown out of ac- 
 count, because we have frequently seen stones so trans- 
 
PART II 
 
 339 
 
 parent as to have no color; again, we may reject weight, 
 because we have the case of fire, which, though very 
 light, is still a body; and, finally, we may reject cold, 
 heat, and all the other qualities of this sort, either be- 
 cause they are not considered as in the stone, or because, 
 with the change of these qualities, the stone is not sup- 
 posed to have lost the nature of body. After this examina- 
 tion we will find that nothing remains in the idea of 
 body, except that it is something extended in length, 
 breadth, and depth ; and this something is comprised in our 
 idea of space, not only of that which is full of body, but 
 even of what is called void space. 
 
 XII. How space differs from body in our mode of con- 
 ceiving it. 
 
 There is, however, some difference between them in 
 the mode of conception; for if we remove a stone from 
 the space or place in which it was, we conceive that its 
 extension also is taken away, because we regard this as 
 particular and inseparable from the stone itself ; but 
 meanwhile we suppose that the same extension of place 
 in which this stone was remains, although the place of 
 the stone be occupied by wood, water, air, or by any 
 other body, or be even supposed vacant, because we now 
 consider extension in general, and think that the same is 
 common to stones, wood, water, air, and other bodies, 
 and even to a vacuum itself if there is any such thing, 
 provided it be of the same magnitude and figure as be- 
 fore and preserve the same situation among the external 
 bodies which determine this space. 
 
 XIII. What external place is. 
 
 The reason of which is, that the words place and space 
 signify nothing really different from body which is said 
 to be in place, but merely designate its magnitude, figure, 
 and situation among other bodies. For it is necessary, 
 in order to determine this situation, to regard certain 
 other bodies which we consider as immovable; and, 
 according as we look to different bodies, we may see 
 that the same thing at the same time does and does not 
 change place. For example, when a vessel is being car- 
 ried out to sea, a person sitting at the stern may be said 
 to remain always in one place, if we look to the parts of 
 the vessel, since with respect to these he preserves the 
 same situation; and on the other hand, if regard be had 
 
340 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 to the neighboring shores, the same person will seem 
 to be perpetually changing place, seeing he is constantly 
 receding from one shore and approaching another. And 
 besides, if we suppose that the earth moves, and that it 
 makes precisely as much way from west to east as the 
 vessel from east to west, we will again say that the per- 
 son at the stern does not change his place, because this 
 place will be determined by certain immovable points 
 which we imagine to be in the heavens. But if at length 
 we are persuaded that there are no points really immov- 
 able in the universe, as will hereafter be shown to be 
 probable, we will thence conclude that nothing has a 
 permanent place unless in so far as it is fixed by our 
 thought. 
 
 XIV. Wherein place and space differ. 
 
 The terms place and space, however, differ in significa- 
 tion, because place more expressly designates situation 
 than magnitude or figure, while, on the other hand, we 
 think of the latter when we speak of space For we 
 frequently say that a thing succeeds to the place of an- 
 other, although it be not exactly of the same magnitude 
 or figure ; but we do not therefore admit that it occupies 
 the same space as the other; and when the situation is 
 changed we say that the place also is changed, although 
 there are the same magnitude and figure as before: so 
 that when we say that a thing is in a particular place, 
 we mean merely that it is situated in a determinate way 
 in respect of certain other objects; and when we add 
 that it occupies such a space or place, we understand be- 
 sides that it is of such determinate magnitude and figure 
 as exactly to fill this space. 
 
 XV. How external place is rightly taken for the super- 
 ficies of the surrounding body. 
 
 And thus we never indeed distinguish space from ex- 
 tension in length, breadth, and depth; we sometimes, 
 however, consider place as in the thing placed, and at 
 other times as out of it. Internal place indeed differs in 
 no way from space ; but external place may be taken for 
 the superficies that immediately surrounds the thing 
 placed. It ought to be remarked that by superficies we 
 do not here understand any part of the surrounding body, 
 but only the boundary between the surrounding and sur- 
 rounded bodies, which is nothing more than a mode; or 
 
PART II 
 
 34i 
 
 at least that we speak of superficies in general which is 
 no part of one body rather than another, but is always 
 considered the same, provided it retain the same magni- 
 tude and figure. For although the whole surrounding 
 body with its superficies were changed, it would not be 
 supposed that the body which was surrounded by it had 
 therefore changed its place, if it meanwhile preserved the 
 same situation with respect to the other bodies that are 
 regarded as immovable. Thus, if we suppose that a boat 
 is carried in one direction by the current of a stream, 
 and impelled by the wind in the opposite with an equal 
 force, so that its situation with respect to the banks is 
 not changed, we will readily admit that it remains in 
 the same place, although the whole superficies which 
 surrounds it is incessantly changing. 
 
 XVI. That a vacuum or space in which there is abso- 
 lutely no body is repugnant to reason. 
 
 With regard to a vacuum, in the philosophical sense 
 of the term, that is, a space in which there is no sub- 
 stance, it is evident that such does not exist, seeing the 
 extension of space or internal place is not different from 
 that of body. For since from this alone, that a body 
 has extension in length, breadth, and depth, we have 
 reason to conclude that it is a substance, it being abso- 
 lutely contradictory that nothing should possess exten- 
 sion, we ought to form a similar inference regarding the 
 space which is supposed void, viz, that since there is 
 extension in it there is necessarily also substance. 
 
 XVII. That a vacuum in the ordinary use of the term 
 does not exclude all body. 
 
 And, in truth, by the term vacuum in its common use, 
 we do not mean a place or space in which there is abso- 
 lutely nothing, but only a place in which there is none 
 of those things we presume ought to be there. Thus, 
 because a pitcher is made to hold water, it is said to be 
 empty when it is merely filled with air; or if there are 
 no fish in a fish-pond, we say there is nothing in it, 
 although it be full of water; thus a vessel is said to be 
 empty, when, in place of the merchandise which it was 
 designed to carry, it is loaded with sand only, to enable 
 it to resist the violence of the wind; and, finally, it is in 
 the same sense that we say space is void when it con- 
 tains nothing sensible, although it contain created and 
 
342 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 self-subsisting matter; for we are not in the habit of 
 considering the bodies near us, unless in so far as they 
 cause in our organs of sense impressions strong enough 
 to enable us to perceive them. And if, in place of keep- 
 ing in mind what ought to be understood by these terms 
 a vacuum and nothing, we afterward suppose that in the 
 space we called a vacuum, there is not only no sensible 
 object, but no object at all, we will fall into the same 
 error as if, because a pitcher in which there is nothing 
 but air, is, in common speech, said to be empty, we 
 were therefore to judge that the air contained in it is 
 not a substance ( res subsistens). 
 
 XVIII. How the prejudice of an absolute vacuum is 
 to be corrected. 
 
 We have almost all fallen into this error from the ear- 
 liest age, for, observing that there is no necessary con- 
 nection between a vessel and the body it contains, we 
 thought that God at least could take from a vessel the 
 body which occupied it, without it being necessary that 
 any other should be put in the place of the one removed. 
 But that we may be able now to correct this false opinion, 
 it is necessary to remark that there is in truth no con- 
 nection between the vessel and the particular body which 
 it contains, but that there is an absolutely necessary 
 connection between the concave figure of the vessel and 
 the extension considered generally which must be com- 
 prised in this cavity; so that it is not more contradictory 
 to conceive a mountain without a valley than such a 
 cavity without the extension it contains, or this extension 
 apart from an extended substance, for, as we have often 
 said, of nothing there can be no extension. And accord- 
 ingly, if it be asked what would happen were God to 
 remove from a vessel all the body contained in it, with- 
 out permitting another body to occupy its place, the 
 answer must be that the sides of the vessel would thus 
 come into proximity with each other. For two bodies 
 must touch each other when there is nothing between 
 them, and it is manifestly contradictory for two bodies 
 to be apart, in other words, that there should be a dis- 
 tance between them, and the distance yet be nothing; 
 for all distance is a mode of extension, and cannot there- 
 fore exist without an extended substance. 
 
 XIX. That this confirms what was said of rarefaction. 
 
PART II 
 
 343 
 
 After we have thus remarked that the nature of cor- 
 poreal substance consists only in its being an extended 
 thing, and that its extension is not different from that 
 which we attribute to space, however empty, it is easy 
 to discover the impossibility of any one of its parts in 
 any way whatsoever occupying more space at one time 
 than at another, and thus of being otherwise rarefied 
 than in the way explained above; and it is easy to per- 
 ceive also that there cannot be more matter or body in a 
 vessel when it is filled with lead or gold, or any other 
 body however heavy and hard, than when it but contains 
 air and is supposed to be empty: for the quantity of the 
 parts of which a body is composed does not depend on 
 their weight or hardness, but only on the extension, which 
 is always equal in the same vase. 
 
 XX. That from this the non-existence of atoms may 
 likewise be demonstrated. 
 
 We likewise discover that there cannot exist any atoms 
 or parts of matter that are of their own nature indivisi- 
 ble. For however small we suppose these parts to be, 
 yet because they are necessarily extended, we are always 
 able in thought to divide any one of them into two or 
 more smaller parts, and may accordingly admit their di- 
 visibility. For there is nothing we can divide in thought 
 which we do not thereby recognize to be divisible; and, 
 therefore, were we to judge it indivisible our judgment 
 would not be in harmony with the knowledge we have 
 of the thing; and although we should even suppose that 
 God had reduced any particle of matter to a smallness so 
 extreme that it did not admit of being further divided, it 
 would nevertheless be improperly styled indivisible, for 
 though God had rendered the particle so small that it 
 was not in the power of any creature to divide it, he could 
 not however deprive himself of the ability to do so, since 
 it is absolutely impossible for him to lessen his own om- 
 nipotence, as was before observed. Wherefore, absolutely 
 speaking, the smallest extended particle is always divisi- 
 ble, since it is such of its very nature. 
 
 XXI. It is thus also demonstrated that the extension 
 of the world is indefinite. 
 
 We further discover that this world or the whole ( uni- 
 versitas ) of corporeal substance, is extended without 
 limit, for wherever we fix a limit, we still not only imag- 
 
344 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ine beyond it spaces indefinitely extended, but perceive 
 these to be truly imaginable, in other words, to be in 
 reality such as we imagine them ; so that they contain in 
 them corporeal substance indefinitely extended, for, as 
 has been already shown at length, the idea of extension 
 which we conceive in any space whatever is plainly iden- 
 tical with the idea of corporeal substance. 
 
 XXII. It also follows that the matter of the heavens 
 and earth is the same, and that there cannot be a plu- 
 rality of worlds. 
 
 And it may also be easily inferred from all this that 
 the earth and heavens are made of the same matter; and 
 that even although there were an infinity of worlds, they 
 would all be composed of this matter; from which it fol- 
 lows that a plurality of worlds is impossible, because we 
 clearly conceive that the matter whose nature consists 
 only in its being an extended substance, already wholly 
 occupies all the imaginable spaces where these other 
 worlds could alone be, and we cannot find in ourselves 
 the idea of any other matter. 
 
 XXIII. That all the variety of matter, or the diversity 
 of its forms, depends on motion. 
 
 There is therefore but one kind of matter in the whole 
 universe, and this we know only by its being extended. 
 All the properties we distinctly perceive to belong to it 
 are reducible to its capacity of being divided and moved 
 according to its parts ; and accordingly it is capable of all 
 those affections which we perceive can arise from the 
 motion of its parts. For the partition of matter in thought 
 makes no change in it; but all variation of it, or diver- 
 sity of form, depends on motion. The philosophers even 
 seem universally to have observed this, for they said 
 that nature was the principle of motion and rest, and 
 by nature they understood that by which all corporeal 
 things become such as they are found in experience. 
 
 XXIV. What motion is, taking the term in its com- 
 mon use. 
 
 But motion (viz, local, for I can conceive no other 
 kind of motion, and therefore I do not think we ought 
 to suppose there is any other in nature), in the ordi- 
 nary sense of the term, is nothing more than the action 
 
 BY WHICH A BODY PASSES FROM ONE PLACE TO ANOTHER. 
 
 And just as we have remarked above that the same thing 
 
PART III 
 
 345 
 
 may be said to change and not to change place at the 
 same time, so also we may say that the same thing is at 
 the same time moved and not moved. Thus, for example, 
 a person seated in a vessel which is setting sail, thinks 
 he is in motion if he looks to the shore that he has 
 left, and consider it as fixed; but not if he regard the 
 ship itself, among the parts of which he preserves al- 
 ways the same situation. Moreover, because we are ac- 
 customed to suppose that there is no motion without 
 action, and that in rest there is the cessation of action, 
 the person thus seated is more properly said to be at rest 
 than in motion, seeing he is not conscious of being in 
 action. 
 
 XXV. What motion is properly so called. 
 
 But if, instead of occupying ourselves with that which 
 has no foundation, unless in ordinary usage, we desire 
 to know what ought to be understood by motion accord- 
 ing to the truth of the thing, we may say, in order to 
 give it a determinate nature, that it is the transport- 
 ing OF ONE PART OF MATTER OR OF ONE BODY FROM THE 
 VICINITY OF THOSE BODIES THAT ARE IN IMMEDIATE CONTACT 
 WITH IT, OR WHICH WE REGARD AS AT REST, TO THE VICIN- 
 ITY of other bodies. By a body as a part of matter, I 
 understand all that which is transferred together, although 
 it be perhaps composed of several parts, which in them- 
 selves have other motions; and I say that it is the 
 transporting and not the force or action which transports, 
 with the view of showing that motion is always in the 
 movable thing, not in that which moves; for it seems to 
 me that we are not accustomed to distinguish these two 
 things with sufficient accuracy. Further, I understand 
 that it is a mode of the movable thing, and not a sub- 
 stance, just as figure is a property of the thing figured, 
 and repose of that which is at rest. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Of the Visible World. 
 
 I. That we cannot think too highly of the works of God. 
 Having now ascertained certain principles of material 
 things, which were sought, not by the prejudices of the 
 
346 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 senses, but by the light of reason, and which thus possess 
 so great evidence that we cannot doubt of their truth, it 
 remains for us to consider whether from these alone we 
 can deduce the explication of all the phenomena of nature. 
 We will commence with those phenomena that are of the 
 greatest generality, and upon which the others depend, as, 
 for example, with the general structure of this whole visi- 
 ble world. But in order to our philosophizing aright re- 
 garding this, two things are first of all to be observed. 
 The first is, that we should ever bear in mind the infinity 
 of the power and goodness of God, that we may not fear 
 falling into error by imagining his works to be too great, 
 beautiful, and perfect, but that we may, on the contrary, 
 take care lest, by supposing limits to them of which we 
 have no certain knowledge, we appear to think less highly 
 than we ought of the power of God. 
 
 II. That we ought to beware lest, in our presumption, 
 we imagine that the ends which God proposed to himself 
 in the creation of the world are understood by us. 
 
 The second is, that we should beware of presuming too 
 highly of ourselves, as it seems we should do if we sup- 
 posed certain limits to the world, without being assured 
 of their existence either by natural reasons or by divine 
 revelation, as if the power of our thought extended be- 
 yond what God has in reality made ; but likewise still more 
 if we persuaded ourselves that all things were created by 
 God for us only, or if we merely supposed that we could 
 comprehend by the power of our intellect the ends 
 which God proposed to himself in creating the uni- 
 verse. 
 
 III. In what sense it may be said that all things were 
 created for the sake of man. 
 
 For although, as far as regards morals, it may be a pious 
 thought to believe that God made all things for us, see- 
 ing we may thus be incited to greater gratitude and love 
 toward him ; and although it is even in some sense true, 
 because there is no created thing of which we cannot 
 make some use, if it be only that of exercising our mind 
 in considering it, and honoring God on account of it, it 
 is yet by no means probable that all things were created 
 for us in this way that God had no other end in their 
 creation; and this supposition would be plainly ridiculous 
 and inept in physical reasoning, for we do not doubt 
 
PART IV 
 
 347 
 
 but that many things exist, or formerly existed and have 
 now ceased to be, which were never seen or known by 
 man, and were never of use to him. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Of the Earth. 
 
 CLXXXVIII. Of what is to be borrowed from dis- 
 quisitions on animals and man to advance the knowledge 
 of material objects. 
 
 I should add nothing further to this the Fourth Part of 
 the Principles of Philosophy, did I purpose carrying out 
 my original design of writing a Fifth and Sixth Part, 
 the one treating of things possessed of life, that is, ani- 
 mals and plants, and the other of man. But because I 
 have not yet acquired sufficient knowledge of all the 
 matters of which I should desire to treat in these two 
 last parts, and do not know whether I ever shall have 
 sufficient leisure to finish them, I will here subjoin a few 
 things regarding the objects of our senses, that I may 
 not, for the sake of the latter, delay too long the pub- 
 lication of the former parts, or of what may be de- 
 siderated in them, which I might have reserved for 
 explanation in those others: for I have hitherto described 
 this earth, and generally the whole visible world, as if it 
 were merely a machine in which there was nothing at 
 all to consider except the figures and motions of its parts, 
 whereas our senses present to us many other things, for 
 example, colors, smells, sounds, and the like, of which, 
 if I did not speak at all, it would be thought I had 
 omitted the explication of the majority of the objects 
 that are in nature. 
 
 CLXXXIX. What perception ( sensus ) is, and how we 
 perceive. 
 
 We must know, therefore, that 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 
 
348 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 any one of them without moving the extremities of some 
 of the nerves spread over it: and this motion passes to 
 the other extremities of those nerves which are collected 
 in the brain round the seat of the soul,* as I have al- 
 ready explained with sufficient minuteness in the fourth 
 chapter of the Dioptrics. But the movements which are 
 thus excited in the brain by the nerves, variously affect 
 the soul or mind, which is intimately conjoined with the 
 brain, according to the diversity of the motions them- 
 selves. And the diverse affections of the mind or thoughts 
 that immediately arise from these motions, are called 
 perceptions of the senses ( sensuum perceptiones ), or, as 
 we commonly speak, sensations ( sensus ). 
 
 CXC. Of the distinction of the senses ; and, first, of the 
 internal, that is, of the affections of the mind (passions), 
 and the natural appetites. 
 
 The varieties of these sensations depend, firstly, on the 
 diversity of the nerves themselves, and, secondly, of the 
 movements that are made in each nerve. We have not, 
 however, as many different senses as there are nerves. 
 We can distinguish but seven principal classes of nerves, 
 of which two belong to the internal, and the other five 
 to the external senses. The nerves which extend to the 
 stomach, the oesophagus, the fauces, and the other in- 
 ternal parts that are subservient to our natural wants, 
 constitute one of our internal senses. This is called the 
 natural appetite ( appetitus natur alis). The other internal 
 sense, which embraces all the emotions ( commotiones ) of 
 the mind or passions, and affections, as joy, sadness, love, 
 hate, and the like, depends upon the nerves which extend 
 to the heart and the parts about the heart, and are ex- 
 ceedingly small; for, by way of example, when the blood 
 happens to be pure and well tempered, so that it dilates 
 in the heart more readily and strongly than usual, this 
 so enlarges and moves the small nerves scattered around 
 the orifices, that there is thence a corresponding move- 
 ment in the brain, which affects the mind with a certain 
 natural feeling of joy; and as often as these same nerves 
 are moved in the same way, although this is by other 
 causes, they excite in our mind the same feeling [sensus, 
 sentiment). Thus, the imagination of the enjoyment of a 
 good does not contain in itself the feeling of joy, but it 
 
 * « Common Sense. » — French. 
 
PART IV 
 
 349 
 
 causes the animal spirits to pass from the brain to the 
 muscles in which these nerves are inserted; and thus 
 dilating the orifices of the heart, it also causes these 
 small nerves to move in the way appointed by nature to 
 afford the sensation of joy. Thus, when we receive news, 
 the mind first of all judges of it, and if the news be 
 good, it rejoices with that intellectual joy ( gaudium intel- 
 lectuale) which is independent of any emotion ( commotio ) 
 of the body, and which the Stoics did not deny to their 
 wise man [although they supposed him exempt from all 
 passion]. But as soon as this joy passes from the under- 
 standing to the imagination, the spirits flow from the 
 brain to the muscles that are about the heart, and there 
 excite the motion of the small nerves, by means of which 
 another motion is caused in the brain, which affects the 
 mind with the sensation of animal joy ( laetitia animalis). 
 On the same principle, when the blood is so thick that it 
 flows but sparingly into the ventricles of the heart, and 
 is not there sufficiently dilated, it excites in the same 
 nerves a motion quite different from the preceding, 
 which, communicated to the brain, gives to the mind the 
 sensation of sadness, although the mind itself is perhaps 
 ignorant of the cause of its sadness. And all the other 
 causes which move these nerves in the same way may 
 also give to the mind the same sensation. But the other 
 movements of the same nerves produce other effects, as 
 the feelings of love, hate, fear, anger, etc., as far as they 
 are merely affections or passions of the mind; in other 
 words, as far as they are confused thoughts which the 
 mind has not from itself alone, but from its being 
 closely joined to the body, from which it receives im- 
 pressions; for there is the widest difference between 
 these passions and the distinct thoughts which we have 
 of what ought to be loved, or chosen, or shunned, etc. 
 [although these are often enough found together]. The 
 natural appetites, as hunger, thirst, and the others, are 
 likewise sensations excited in the mind by means of the 
 nerves of the stomach, fauces, and other parts, and are 
 entirely different from the will which we have to eat, 
 drink [and to do all that which we think proper for the 
 conservation of our body] ; but, because this will or appe- 
 tition almost always accompanies them, the)’- are therefore 
 named appetites. 
 
35 ° 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 CXCI. Of the external senses; and first of touch. 
 
 We commonly reckon the external senses five in num- 
 ber, because there are as many different kinds of objects 
 which move the nerves and their organs, and an equal 
 number of kinds of confused thoughts excited in the soul 
 by these motions. In the first place, the nerves termin- 
 ating in the skin of the whole body can be touched 
 through this medium by any terrene objects whatever, 
 and moved by these wholes, in one way by their hard- 
 ness, in another by their gravity, in a third by their heat, in 
 in a fourth by their humidity, etc., — and in as many 
 diverse modes as they are either moved or hindered 
 from their ordinary motion, to that extent are diverse 
 sensations excited in the mind, from which a correspond- 
 ing number of tactile qualities derive their appellations. 
 Besides this, when these nerves are moved a little more 
 powerfully than usual, but not, nevertheless, to the degree 
 by which our body is in any way hurt, there thus arises 
 a sensation of titillation, which is naturally agreeable to 
 the mind, because it testifies to it of the powers of the 
 body with which it is joined [in that the latter can suffer 
 the action causing this titillation, without being hurt]. But 
 if this action be strong enough to hurt our body in any 
 way, this gives to our mind the sensation of pain. And 
 we thus see why corporeal pleasure and pain, although 
 sensations of quite an opposite character, arise, neverthe- 
 less, from causes nearly alike. 
 
 CXCII. Of taste. 
 
 In the second place, the other nerves scattered over 
 the tongue and the parts in its vicinity are diversely 
 moved by the particles of the same bodies, separated 
 from each other and floating in the saliva in the mouth, 
 and thus cause sensations of diverse tastes according to 
 the diversity of figure in these particles.* 
 
 CXCIII. Of smell. 
 
 Thirdly, two nerves also or appendages of the brain, 
 for they do not go beyond the limits of the skull, are 
 moved by the particles of terrestrial bodies, separated 
 and flying in the air, not indeed by all particles indiffer- 
 ently, but by those only that are sufficiently subtle and 
 penetrating to enter the pores of the bone we call the 
 
 * In the French this section begins, <( Taste, after touch the grossest 
 e£ the senses, » etc. 
 
PART IV 
 
 35i 
 
 spongy, when drawn into the nostrils, and thus to reach 
 the nerves. From the different motions of these particles 
 arise the sensations of the different smells. 
 
 CXCIV. Of hearing. 
 
 Fourthly, there are two nerves within the ears, so 
 attached to three small bones that are mutually sustain- 
 ing, and the first of which rests on the small membrane 
 that covers the cavity we call the tympanum of the ear, 
 that all the diverse vibrations which the surrounding air 
 communicates to this membrane, are transmitted to the 
 mind by these nerves, and those vibrations give rise, 
 according to their diversity, to the sensations of the 
 different sounds. 
 
 CXCV. Of sight. 
 
 Finally, the extremities of the optic nerves, composing 
 the coat in the eyes called the retina, are not moved by 
 the air nor by any terrestrial object, but only by the 
 globules of the second element, whence we have the 
 sense of light and colors: as I have already at sufficient 
 length explained in the Dioptrics and treatise of 
 Meteors.* 
 
 CXCVI. That the soul perceives only in so far as it is 
 in the brain. 
 
 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 in so far as it is in the brain, where the nerves 
 by their movements convey to it the diverse actions of 
 the external objects that touch the parts of the body in 
 which they are inserted. For, in the first place, there 
 are various maladies, which, though they affect the brain 
 alone, yet bring disorder upon, or deprive us altogether 
 of the use of, our senses, just as sleep, which affects the 
 brain only, and yet takes from us daily during a great 
 part of our time the faculty of perception which after- 
 ward in our waking state is restored to us. The second 
 proof is, that though there be no disease in the brain, 
 [ or in the members in which the organs of the external 
 senses are ], it is nevertheless sufficient to take away 
 sensation from the part of the body where the nerves 
 terminate, if only the movement of one of the nerves 
 that extend from the brain to these members be obstructed 
 
 * In the French this section begins, « Finally, sight is the most 
 subtle of all the senses,” etc. 
 
352 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 in any part of the distance that is between the two. 
 And the last proof is, that we sometimes feel pain as if 
 in certain of our members, the cause of which, however, 
 is not in these members where it is felt, but somewhere 
 nearer the brain, through which the nerves pass that give 
 to the mind the sensation of it. I could establish this 
 fact by innumerable experiments; I will here, however, 
 merely refer to one of them. A girl suffering from a 
 bad ulcer in the hand, had her eyes bandaged whenever 
 the surgeon came to visit her, not being able to bear the 
 sight of the dressing of the sore; and, the gangrene 
 having spread, after the expiry of a few days the arm 
 was amputated from the elbow [ without the girl’s knowl- 
 edge ] ; linen cloths tied one above the other were sub- 
 stituted in place of the part amputated, so that she 
 remained for some time without knowing that the opera- 
 tion had been performed, and meanwhile she complained 
 of feeling various pains, sometimes in one finger of the 
 hand that was cut off, and sometimes in another. The 
 only explanation of this is, that the nerves which before 
 stretched downward from the brain to the hand, and 
 then terminated in the arm close to the elbow, were there 
 moved in the same way as they required to be moved 
 before in the hand for the purpose of impressing on the 
 mind residing in the brain the sensation of pain in this 
 or that finger. [ And this clearly shows that the pain of 
 the hand is not felt by the mind in so far as it is in the 
 hand, but in so far as it is in the brain.] 
 
 CXCVII. That the nature of the mind is such that from 
 the motion alone of the body various sensations can be 
 excited in it. 
 
 In the next place, it can be proved that our mind is 
 of such a nature that the motions of the body alone are 
 sufficient to excite in it all sorts of thoughts, without it 
 being necessary that these should in any way resemble 
 the motions which give rise to them, and especially that 
 these motions can excite in it those confused thoughts 
 called sensations ( sensus , sensationes). For we see that 
 words whether uttered by the voice or merely written, 
 excite in our minds all kinds of thoughts and emotions. 
 On the same paper, with the same pen and ink, by 
 merely moving the point of the pen over the paper in a 
 particular way, we can trace letters that will raise in the 
 
PART IV 
 
 353 
 
 minds of our readers the thoughts of combats, tempests, 
 or the furies, and the passions of indignation and sorrow; 
 in place of which, if the pen be moved in another way 
 hardly different from the former, this slight change will 
 cause thoughts widely different from the above, such as 
 those of repose, peace, pleasantness, and the quite oppo- 
 site passions of love and joy. Some one will perhaps 
 object that writing and speech do not immediately excite 
 in the mind any passions, or imaginations of things dif- 
 ferent from the letters and sounds, but afford simply the 
 knowledge of these, on occasion of which the mind, 
 understanding the signification of the words, afterward 
 excites in itself the imaginations and passions that cor- 
 respond to the words. But what will be said of the sen- 
 sations of pain and titillation ? The motion merely of a 
 sword cutting a part of our skin causes pain [but does 
 not on that account make us aware of the motion or 
 figure of the sword]. And it is certain that this sen- 
 sation of pain is not less different from the motion that 
 causes it, or from that of the part of our body which the 
 sword cuts, than are the sensations we have of color, 
 sound, odor, or taste. On this ground we may conclude 
 that our mind is of such a nature that the motions alone 
 of certain bodies can also easily excite in it all the other 
 sensations, as the motion of a sword excites in it the 
 sensation of pain. 
 
 CXCVIII. That by our senses we know nothing of 
 external objects beyond their figure [or situation ], mag- 
 nitude, and motion. 
 
 Besides, we observe no such difference between the 
 nerves as to lead us to judge that one set of them con- 
 vey to the brain from the organs of the external senses 
 anything different from another, or that anything at all 
 reaches the brain besides the local motion of the nerves 
 themselves. And we see that local motion alone causes 
 in us not only the sensation of titillation and of pain, 
 but also of light and sounds. For if we receive a blow 
 on the eye of sufficient force to cause the vibration of 
 the stroke to reach the retina, we see numerous sparks 
 of fire, which, nevertheless, are not out of our eye; and 
 when we stop our ear with our finger, we hear a hum- 
 ming sound, the cause of which can only proceed from 
 the agitation of the air that is shut up within it. Fin- 
 23 
 
354 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ally, we frequently observe that heat [hardness, weight], 
 and the other sensible qualities, as far as they are in ob- 
 jects, and also the forms of those bodies that are purely 
 material, as, for example, the forms of fire, are produced 
 in them by the motion of certain other bodies, and that 
 these in their turn likewise produce other motions in 
 other bodies. And we can easily conceive how the motion 
 of one body may be caused by that of another, and 
 diversified by the size, figure, and situation of its parts, 
 but we are wholly unable to conceive how these same 
 things (viz, size, figure, and motion), can produce some- 
 thing else of a nature entirely different from themselves, 
 as, for example, those substantial forms and real quali- 
 ties which many philosophers suppose to be in bodies; 
 nor likewise can we conceive how these qualities or forms 
 possess force to cause motions in other bodies. But since 
 we know, from the nature of our soul, that the diverse 
 motions of body are sufficient to produce in it all the 
 sensations which it has, and since we learn from experi- 
 ence that several of its sensations are in reality caused 
 by such motions, while we do not discover that anything 
 besides these motions ever passes from the organs of 
 the external senses to the brain, we have reason to con- 
 clude that we in no way likewise apprehend that in 
 external objects, which we call light, color, smell, taste, 
 sound, heat or cold, and the other tactile qualities, or that 
 which we call their substantial forms, unless as the vari- 
 ous dispositions of these objects which have the power of 
 moving our nerves in various ways.* 
 
 CXCIX. That there is no phenomenon of nature whose 
 explanation has been omitted in this treatise. 
 
 And thus it may be gathered, from an enumeration 
 that is easily made, that there is no phenomenon of 
 nature whose explanation has been omitted in this treatise; 
 for beyond what is perceived by the senses, there is 
 nothing that can be considered a phenomenon of nature. 
 But leaving out of account, motion, magnitude, figure [ and 
 the situation of the parts of each body], which I have 
 explained as they exist in body, we perceive nothing out 
 of us by our senses except light, colors, smells, tastes, 
 sounds, and the tactile qualities; and these I have recently 
 
 * (< The diverse figures, situations magnitudes, and motions of their 
 parts. » — French. 
 
PART IV 
 
 355 
 
 shown to be nothing more, at least so far as they are 
 known to us, than certain dispositions of the objects, 
 consisting in magnitude, figure, and motion. 
 
 CC. That this treatise contains no principles which are 
 not universally received; and that this philosophy is not 
 new, but of all others the most ancient and common. 
 
 But I am desirous also that it should be observed that, 
 though I have here endeavored to give an explanation of 
 the whole nature of material things, I have nevertheless 
 made use of no principle which was not received and 
 approved by Aristotle, and by the other philosophers of 
 all ages; so that this philosophy, so far from being new, 
 is of all others the most ancient and common: for I have 
 in truth merely considered the figure, motion, and mag- 
 nitude of bodies, and examined what must follow from 
 their mutual concourse on the principles of mechanics, 
 which are confirmed by certain and daily experience. 
 But no one ever doubted that bodies are moved, and 
 that they are of various sizes and figures, according to 
 the diversity of which their motions also vary, and that 
 from mutual collision those somewhat greater than others 
 are divided into many smaller, and thus change figure. 
 We have experience of the truth of this, not merely by 
 a single sense, but by several, as touch, sight, and hear- 
 ing: we also distinctly imagine and understand it. This 
 cannot be said of any of the other things that fall under 
 our senses, as colors, sounds, and the like; for each of 
 these affects but one of our senses, and merely impresses 
 upon our imagination a confused image of itself, afford- 
 ing our understanding no distinct knowledge of what it is. 
 
 CCI. That sensible bodies are composed of insensible 
 particles. 
 
 But I allow many particles in each body that are per- 
 ceived by none of our senses, and this will not perhaps 
 be approved of by those who take the senses for the 
 measure of the knowable. [We greatly wrong human 
 reason, however, as appears to me, if we suppose that 
 it does not go beyond the eyesight ] ; for no one can 
 doubt that there are bodies so small as not to be per- 
 ceptible by any of our senses, provided he only consider 
 what is each moment added to those bodies that are being 
 increased little by little, and what is taken from those 
 that are diminished in the same way. A tree increases 
 
356 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 daily, and it is impossible to conceive how it becomes 
 greater than it was before, unless we at the same time 
 conceive that some body is added to it. But who ever 
 observed by the senses those small bodies that are in 
 one day added to a tree while growing ? Among the 
 philosophers at least, those who hold that quantity is 
 indefinitely divisible, ought to admit that in the division 
 the parts may become so small as to be wholly imper- 
 ceptible. And indeed it ought not to be a matter of 
 surprise, that we are unable to perceive very minute 
 bodies; for the nerves that must be moved by objects to 
 cause perception are not themselves very minute, but are 
 like small cords, being composed of a quantity of smaller 
 fibers, and thus the most minute bodies are not capable 
 of moving them. Nor do I think that any one who makes 
 use of his reason will deny that we philosophize with 
 much greater truth when we judge of what takes place 
 in those small bodies which are imperceptible from their 
 minuteness only, after the analogy of what we see occur- 
 ring in those we do perceive [and in this way explain 
 all that is in nature, as I have essayed to do in this 
 treatise ], than when we give an explanation of the same 
 things by inventing I know not what novelties, that have 
 no relation to the things we actually perceive [as first 
 matter, substantial forms, and all that grand array of 
 qualities which many are in the habit of supposing, each 
 of which it is more difficult to comprehend than all that 
 is professed to be explained by means of them], 
 
 CCII. That the philosophy of Democritus is not less 
 different from ours than from the common.* 
 
 But it may be said that Democritus also supposed cer- 
 tain corpuscles that were of various figures, sizes, and 
 motions, from the heaping together and mutual concourse 
 of which all sensible bodies arose; and, nevertheless, his 
 mode of philosophizing is commonly rejected by all. To 
 this I reply that the philosophy of Democritus was never 
 rejected by any one, because he allowed the existence of 
 bodies smaller than those we perceive, and attributed to 
 them diverse sizes, figures, and motions, for no one can 
 doubt that there are in reality such, as we have already 
 shown; but it was rejected in the first place, because he 
 supposed that these corpuscles were indivisible, on which 
 • * That of Aristotle or the others. » — French. 
 
PART IV 
 
 357 
 
 ground I also reject it; in the second place, because he 
 imagined there was a vacuum about them, which I show 
 to be impossible; thirdly, because he attributed gravity 
 to these bodies, of which I deny the existence in any 
 body, in so far as a body is considered by itself, because 
 it is a quality that depends on the relations of situation 
 and motion which several bodies bear to each other ; and, 
 finally, because he has not explained in particular how 
 all things arose from the concourse of corpuscles alone, 
 or, if he gave this explanation with regard to a few of 
 them, his whole reasoning was far from being coherent 
 [or such as would warrant us in extending the same ex- 
 planation to the whole of nature]. This, at least, is the 
 verdict we must give regarding his philosophy, if we 
 may judge of his opinions from what has been handed 
 down to us in writing. I leave it to others to determine 
 whether the philosophy I profess possesses a valid co- 
 herency [and whether on its principles we can make the 
 requisite number of deductions; and, inasmuch as the 
 consideration of figure, magnitude, and motion has been 
 admitted by Aristotle and by all the others, as well as 
 by Democritus, and since I reject all that the latter has 
 supposed, with this single exception, while I reject gen- 
 erally all that has been supposed by the others, it is 
 plain that this mode of philosophizing has no more 
 affinity with that of Democritus than of any other par- 
 ticular sect], 
 
 CCIII. How we may arrive at the knowledge of the 
 figures [magnitude], and motions of the insensible par- 
 ticles of bodies. 
 
 But, since I assign determinate figures, magnitudes, 
 and motions to the insensible particles of bodies, as if I 
 had seen them, whereas I admit that they do not fall 
 under the senses, some one will perhaps demand how I 
 have come by my knowledge of them. [ To this I reply, 
 that I first considered in general all the clear and distinct 
 notions of material things that are to be found in our 
 understanding, and that, finding no others except those 
 of figures, magnitudes, and motions, and of the rules 
 according to which these three things can be diversified 
 by each other, which rules are the principles of geometry 
 and mechanics, I judged that all the knowledge man can 
 have of nature must of necessity be drawn from this 
 
358 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 source; because all the other notions we have of sensible 
 things, as confused and obscure, can be of no avail ir. 
 affording us the knowledge of anything out of ourselves, 
 but must serve rather to impede it.] Thereupon, taking 
 as my ground of inference the simplest and best known 
 of the principles that have been implanted in our minds 
 by nature, I considered the chief differences that could 
 possibly subsist between the magnitudes, and figures, 
 and situations of bodies insensible on account of their 
 smallness alone, and what sensible effects could be pro- 
 duced by their various modes of coming into contact; 
 and afterward, when I found like effects in the bodies 
 that we perceive by our senses, I judged that they could 
 have been thus produced, especially since no other mode 
 of explaining them could be devised. And in this 
 matter the example of several bodies made by art was 
 of great service to me: for I recognize no difference 
 between these and natural bodies beyond this, that the 
 effects of machines depend for the most part on the agency 
 of certain instruments, which, as they must bear some pro- 
 portion to the hands of those who make them, are always 
 so large that their figures and motions can be seen; in 
 place of which, the effects of natural bodies almost always 
 depend upon certain organs so minute as to escape our 
 senses. And it is certain that all the rules of mechanics 
 belong also to physics, of which it is a part or species 
 [ so that all that is artificial is withal natural ] : for it is 
 not less natural for a clock, made of the requisite num- 
 ber of wheels, to mark the hours, than for a tree, which 
 has sprung from this or that seed, to produce the fruit 
 peculiar to it. Accordingly, just as those who are familar 
 with automata, when they are informed of the use of a 
 machine, and see some of its parts, easily infer from these 
 the way in which the others, that are not seen by them, 
 are made; so from considering the sensible effects and 
 parts of natural bodies, I have essayed to determine the 
 character of their causes and insensible parts. 
 
 CCIV. That, touching the things which our senses do 
 not perceive, it is sufficient to explain how they can be 
 [and that this is all that Aristotle has essayed]. 
 
 But here some one will perhaps reply, that although I 
 have supposed causes which could produce all natural 
 objects, we ought not on this account to conclude that 
 
FART IV 
 
 359 
 
 they were produced by these causes; for, just as the 
 same artisan can make two clocks, which, though they 
 both equally well indicate the time, and are not different 
 in outward appearance, have nevertheless nothing 
 resembling in the composition of their wheels ; so doubt- 
 less the Supreme Maker of things has an infinity of 
 diverse means at his disposal, by each of which he 
 could have made all the things of this world to appear 
 as we see them, without it being possible for the human 
 mind to know which of all these means he chose to 
 employ. I most freely concede this; and I believe that 
 I have done all that was required, if the causes I have 
 assigned are such that their effects accurately correspond 
 to all the phenomena of nature, without determining 
 whether it is by these or by others that they are actually 
 produced. And it will be sufficient for the use of life 
 to know the causes thus imagined, for medicine, 
 mechanics, and in general all the arts to which the knowl- 
 edge of physics is of service, have for their end only 
 those effects that are sensible, and that are accordingly 
 to be reckoned among the phenomena of nature.* And 
 lest it should be supposed that Aristotle did, or pro- 
 fessed to do, anything more than this, it ought to be 
 remembered that he himself expressly says, at the com- 
 mencement of the seventh chapter of the first book of 
 the Meteorologies, that, with regard to things which are 
 not manifest to the senses, he thinks to adduce sufficient 
 reasons and demonstrations of them, if he only shows 
 that they may be such as he explains them. 
 
 CCV. That nevertheless there is a moral certainty that 
 all the things of this world are such as has been here 
 shown they may be. 
 
 But nevertheless, that I may not wrong the truth by 
 supposing it less certain than it is, I will here distin- 
 guish two kinds of certitude. The first is called moral, 
 that is, a certainty sufficient for the conduct of life, 
 though, if we look to the absolute power of God, what 
 
 * (< Have for their end only to apply certain sensible bodies to each 
 other in such a way that, in the course of natural causes, certain 
 sensible effects may be produced; and we will be able to accom- 
 plish this quite as well by considering the series of certain causes 
 thus imagined, although false, as if they were the true, since 
 this series is supposed similar as far as regards sensible effects.® 
 — French. 
 
360 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 is morally certain may be false. [Thus, those who never 
 visited Rome do not doubt that it is a city of Italy, 
 though it might be that all from whom they got their 
 information were deceived.] Again, if any one, wishing 
 to decipher a letter written in Latin characters that are 
 not placed in regular order, bethinks himself of reading 
 a B wherever an A is found, and a C wherever there is 
 a B, and thus of substituting in place of each letter the 
 one which follows it in the order of the alphabet, and 
 if by this means he finds that there are certain Latin 
 words composed of these, he will not doubt that the true 
 meaning of the writing is contained in these words, 
 although he may discover this only by conjecture, and 
 although it is possible that the writer of it did not arrange 
 the letters on this principle of alphabetical order, but on 
 some other, and thus concealed another meaning in it: 
 for this is so improbable [especially when the cipher con- 
 tains a number of words] as to seem incredible. But 
 they who observe how many things regarding the mag- 
 net, fire, and the fabric of the whole world, are here 
 deduced from a very small number of principles, though 
 they deemed that I had taken them up at random and 
 without grounds, will yet perhaps acknowledge that it 
 could hardly happen that so many things should cohere 
 if these principles were false. 
 
 CCVI. That we possess even more than a moral cer- 
 tainty of it. 
 
 Besides, there are some, even among natural, things 
 which we judge to be absolutely certain. [Absolute cer- 
 tainty arises when we judge that it is impossible a thing 
 can be otherwise than as we think it. ] This certainty is 
 founded on the metaphysical ground, that, as God is 
 supremely good and the source of all truth, the faculty 
 of distinguishing truth from error which he gave us, 
 cannot be fallacious so long as we use it aright, and dis- 
 tinctly perceive anything by it. Of this character are the 
 demonstrations of mathematics, the knowledge that ma- 
 terial things exist, and the clear reasonings that are 
 formed regarding them. The results I have given in this 
 treatise will perhaps be admitted to a place in the class 
 of truths that are absolutely certain, if it be considered 
 that they are deduced in a continuous series from the first 
 and most elementary principles of human knowledge; 
 
PART IV 
 
 361 
 
 especially if it be sufficiently understood that we can per- 
 ceive no external objects unless some local motion be 
 caused by them in our nerves, and that such motion cannot 
 be caused by the fixed stars, owing to their great distance 
 from us, unless a motion be also produced in them and in 
 the whole heavens lying between them and us: for these 
 points being admitted, all the others, at least the more 
 general doctrines which I have advanced regarding the 
 world or earth [ e . g., the fluidity of the heavens, Part 
 III., §. XLVI.], will appear to be almost the only possible 
 explanations of the phenomena they present. 
 
 CCVII. That, however, I submit all my opinions to the 
 authority of the church. 
 
 Nevertheless, lest I should presume too far, I affirm 
 nothing, but submit all these my opinions to the authority 
 of the church and the judgment of the more sage ; and I 
 desire no one to believe anything I may have said, unless 
 he is constrained to admit it by the force and evidence 
 of reason. 
 

 
APPENDIX. 
 
 REASONS WHICH ESTABLISH THE EXISTENCE 
 OF GOD, AND THE DISTINCTION BE- 
 TWEEN THE MIND AND BODY OF 
 MAN, DISPOSED IN GEOMET- 
 RICAL ORDER. 
 
 (from THE REPLY TO THE SECOND OBJECTIONS LATIN, 1670. 
 
 PP. 85-91. FRENCH, GARNIER. TOM. II., PP. 74-84.) 
 
 Definitions. 
 
 I. By the term thought (cogitatio, pens<?e), I compre- 
 hend all that is in us, so that we are immediately 
 conscious of it. Thus, all the operations of the will, 
 intellect, imagination, and senses, are thoughts. But I 
 have used the word immediately expressly to exclude 
 whatever follows or depends upon our thoughts: for ex- 
 ample, voluntary motion has, in truth, thought for its 
 source (principle), but yet it is not itself thought. [Thus 
 walking is not a thought, but the perception or knowl- 
 edge we have of our walking is.] 
 
 II. By the word idea I understand that form of any 
 thought, by the immediate perception of which I am 
 conscious of that same thought; so that I can express 
 nothing in words, when I understand what I say, without 
 making it certain, by this alone, that I possess the idea 
 of the thing that is signified by these words. And thus 
 I give the appellation idea not to the images alone that 
 are depicted in the phantasy; on the contrary, I do not 
 here apply this name to them, in so far as they are in 
 the corporeal phantasy, that is to say, in so far as they 
 are depicted in certain parts of the brain, but only in so 
 far as they inform the mind itself, when turned toward 
 that part of the brain. 
 
 (363) 
 
364 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 III. By the objective reality of an idea I under- 
 stand the entity or being of the thing represented by 
 the idea, in so far as this entity is in the idea; and, in 
 the same manner, it may be called either an objective 
 perfection, or objective artifice, etc. ( artificium objectivuni). 
 For all that we conceive to be in the objects of the 
 ideas is objectively [or by representation] in the ideas 
 themselves. 
 
 IV. The same things are said to be formally in the 
 objects of the ideas when they are in them such as we 
 conceive them; and they are said to be in the objects 
 eminently when they are not indeed such as we conceive 
 them, but are so great that they can supply this defect 
 by their excellence. 
 
 V. Everything in which there immediately resides, as 
 in a subject, or by which there exists any object we per- 
 ceive, that is, any property, or quality, or attribute of 
 which we have in us a real idea, is called substance. 
 For we have no other idea of substance, accurately taken, 
 except that it is a thing in which exists formally or emi- 
 nently this property or quality which we perceive, or 
 which is objectively in some one of our ideas, since we 
 are taught by the natural light that nothing can have no 
 real attribute. 
 
 VI. The substance in which thought immediately re- 
 sides is here called mind (; mens , esprit ). I here speak, 
 however, of mens rather than of anima , for the latter is 
 equivocal, being frequently applied to denote a corporeal 
 object. 
 
 VII. The substance which is the immediate subject of 
 local extension, and of the accidents that presuppose this 
 extension, as figure, situation, local motion, etc., is called 
 body. But whether the substance which is called mind 
 be the same with that which is called body, or whether 
 they are two diverse substances, is a question to be 
 hereafter considered. 
 
 VIII. The substance which we understand to be su- 
 premely perfect, and in which we conceive nothing that 
 involves any defect, or limitation of perfection, is called God. 
 
 IX. When we say that some attribute is contained in 
 the nature or concept of a thing, this is the same as if 
 we said that the attribute is true of the thing, or that it 
 may be affirmed of the thing itself. 
 
ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD 365 
 
 X. Two substances are said to be really distinct, when 
 each of them may exist without the other. 
 
 Postulates. 
 
 1st. I request that my readers consider how feeble are 
 the reasons that have hitherto led them to repose faith 
 in their senses, and how uncertain are all the judgments 
 which they afterward founded on them; and that they 
 will revolve this consideration in their mind so long and 
 so frequently, that, in fine, they may acquire the habit 
 of no longer trusting so confidently in their senses; for 
 I hold that this is necessary to render one capable of 
 apprehending metaphysical truths. 
 
 2d. That they consider their own mind, and all those 
 of its attributes of which they shall find they cannot 
 doubt, though they may have supposed that all they ever 
 received by the senses was entirely false, and that they 
 do not leave off considering it until they have acquired 
 the habit of conceiving it distinctly, and of believing 
 that it is more easy to know than any corporeal object. 
 
 3d. That they diligently examine such propositions as 
 are self-evident, which they will find within themselves, 
 as the following: That the same thing cannot at once 
 
 be and not be ; that nothing cannot be the efficient cause 
 of anything, and the like; and thus exercise that clear- 
 ness of understanding that has been given them by na- 
 ture, but which the perceptions of the senses are wont 
 greatly to disturb and obscure — exercise it, I say, pure 
 and delivered from the objects of sense; for in this way 
 the truth of the following axioms will appear very evi- 
 dent to them. 
 
 4th. That they examine the ideas of those natures 
 which contain in them an assemblage of several attri- 
 butes, such as the nature of the triangle, that of the 
 square, or some other figure ; as also the nature of 
 mind, the nature of body, and above all that of God, or 
 of a being supremely perfect. And I request them to 
 observe that it may with truth be affirmed that all these 
 things are in objects, which we clearly conceive to be 
 contained in them : for example, because that, in the na- 
 ture of the rectilineal triangle, this property is found 
 contained — viz., that its three angles are equal to two 
 right angles, and that in the nature of body or of an 
 
366 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 extended thing, divisibility is comprised (for we do not 
 conceive any extended thing so small that we cannot di- 
 vide it, at least in thought) — it is true that the three 
 angles of a rectilineal triangle are equal to two right 
 angles, and that all body is divisible. 
 
 5th. That they dwell much and long on the contem- 
 plation of the supremely perfect Being, and, among other 
 things, consider that in the ideas of all other natures, 
 possible existence is indeed contained, but that in the 
 idea of God is contained not only possible but absolutely 
 necessary existence. For, from this alone, and without 
 any reasoning, they will discover that God exists : and it 
 will be no less evident in itself than that two is an equal 
 and three an unequal number, with other truths of this 
 sort. For there are certain truths that are thus mani- 
 fest to some without proof, which are not comprehended 
 by others without a process of reasoning. 
 
 6th. That carefully considering all the examples of 
 clear and distinct perception, and all of obscure and con- 
 fused, of which I spoke in my Meditations, they accus- 
 tom themselves to distinguish things that are clearly 
 known from those that are obscure, for this is better 
 learned by example than by rules; and I think that I have 
 there opened up, or at least in some degree touched 
 upon, all examples of this kind. 
 
 7th. That readers adverting to the circumstance that 
 they never discovered any falsity in things which they 
 clearly conceived, and that, on the contrary, they never 
 found, unless by chance, any truth in things which they 
 conceived but obscurely, consider it to be wholly ir- 
 rational, if on account only of certain prejudices of the 
 senses, or hypotheses which contain what is unknown, 
 they call in doubt what is clearly and distinctly conceived 
 by the pure understanding; for they will thus readily 
 admit the following axioms to be true and indubitable, 
 though I confess that several of them might have been 
 much better unfolded, and ought rather to have been 
 proposed as theorems than as axioms, if I had desired 
 to be more exact. 
 
 Axioms or Common Notions. 
 
 I. Nothing exists of which it cannot be inquired what 
 is the cause of its existing; for this can even be asked 
 
ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD 
 
 367 
 
 respecting God; not that there is need of any cause in 
 order to his existence, but because the very immensity 
 of his nature is the cause or reason why there is no need 
 of any cause of his existence. 
 
 II. The present time is not dependent on that which 
 immediately preceded it; for this reason, there is not 
 need of a less cause for conserving a thing than for at 
 first producing it. 
 
 III. Any thing or any perfection of a thing actually ex- 
 istent cannot have nothing, or a thing non-existent, for 
 the cause of its existence. 
 
 IV. All the reality or perfection which is in a thing is 
 found formally or eminently in its first and total cause. 
 
 V. Whence it follows likewise, that the objective real- 
 ity of our ideas requires a cause in which this same 
 reality is contained, not simply objectively, but formally 
 or eminently. And it is to be observed that this axiom 
 must of necessity be admitted, as upon it alone depends 
 the knowledge of all things, whether sensible or insensi- 
 ble. For whence do we know, for example, that the sky 
 exists ? Is it because we see it ? But this vision does 
 not affect the mind unless in so far as it is an idea, and 
 an idea inhering in the mind itself, and not an image 
 depicted on the phantasy; and, by reason of this idea, 
 we cannot judge that the sky exists unless we suppose 
 that every idea must have a cause of its objective reality 
 which is really existent; and this cause we judge to be 
 the sky itself, and so in the other instances. 
 
 VI. There are diverse degrees of reality, that is, of 
 entity [or perfection] : for substance has more reality than 
 accident or mode, and infinite substance than finite ; it is 
 for this reason also that there is more objective reality 
 in the idea of substance than in that of accident, and 
 in the idea of infinite than in the idea of finite substance. 
 
 VII. The will of a thinking being is carried volunta- 
 rily and freely, for that is of the essence of will, but 
 nevertheless infallibly, to the good that is clearly known 
 to it; and, therefore, if it discover any perfections which 
 it does not possess, it will instantly confer them on itself 
 if they are in its power; [for it will perceive that to 
 possess them is a greater good than to want them]. 
 
 VIII. That which can accomplish the greater or more 
 difficult, can also accomplish the less or the more easy. 
 
368 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 IX. It is a greater and more difficult thing to create 
 or conserve a substance than to create or conserve its 
 attributes or properties; but this creation of a thing is 
 not greater or more difficult than its conservation, as has 
 been already said. 
 
 X. In the idea or concept of a thing existence is con- 
 tained, because we are unable to conceive anything unless 
 under the form of a thing which exists; but with this 
 difference that, in the concept of a limited thing, possi- 
 ble or contingent existence is alone contained, and in the 
 concept of a being sovereignly perfect, perfect and neces- 
 sary existence is comprised. 
 
 Proposition I. 
 
 The existence of God is known from the consideration 
 of his nature alone. 
 
 DEMONSTRATION. 
 
 To say that an attribute is contained in the nature or 
 in the concept of a thing, is the same as to say that this 
 attribute is true of this thing, and that it may be affirmed 
 to be in it (Definition IX.). 
 
 But necessary existence is contained in the nature or 
 in the concept of God (by Axiom X.). 
 
 Hence it may with truth be said that necessary exist- 
 ence is in God, or that God exists. 
 
 And this syllogism is the same as that of which I made 
 use in my reply to the sixth article of these objections; 
 and its conclusion may be known without proof by those 
 who are free from all prejudice, as has been said in 
 Postulate V. But because it is not so easy to reach so 
 great perspicacity of mind, we shall essay to establish 
 the same thing by other modes 
 
 Proposition II. 
 
 The existence of God is demonstrated a posteriori , from 
 this alone, that his idea is in us. 
 
 DEMONSTRATION. 
 
 The objective reality of each of our ideas requires a 
 cause in which this same reality is contained, not simply 
 objectively, but formally or eminently (by Axiom V.). 
 
ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD 
 
 369 
 
 But we have in us the idea of God (by Definitions II. 
 and VIII.), and of this idea the objective reality is not 
 contained in us, either formally or eminently (by Axiom 
 VI.), nor can it be contained in any other except in God 
 himself (by Definition VIII.). 
 
 Therefore this idea of God which is in us demands 
 God for its cause, and consequently God exists (by Ax- 
 iom III.). 
 
 Proposition III. 
 
 The existence of God is also demonstrated from this, 
 that we ourselves, who possess the idea of him, exist. 
 
 DEMONSTRATION. 
 
 If I possessed the power of conserving myself, I should 
 likewise have the power of conferring, it fortiori, on my- 
 self, all the perfections that are wanting to me (by Axioms 
 VIII. and IX.), for these perfections are only attributes 
 of substance, whereas I myself am a substance. 
 
 But I have not the power of conferring myself on these 
 perfections, for otherwise I should already possess them 
 (by Axiom VII.). 
 
 Hence, I have not the power of self -conservation. 
 
 Further, I cannot exist without being conserved, so long 
 as I exist, either by myself, supposing I possess the power, 
 or by another who has this power (by Axioms I. and II.). 
 
 But I exist, and yet I have not the power of self-con- 
 servation, as I have recently proved. Hence I am con- 
 served by another. 
 
 Further, that by which I am conserved has in itself 
 formally or eminently all that is in me (by Axiom IV.). 
 
 But I have in me the perception of many perfections 
 that are wanting to me, and that also of the idea of 
 God (by Definitions II. and VIII.). Hence the perception 
 of these same perfections is in him by whom I am con- 
 served. 
 
 Finally, that same being by whom I am conserved can- 
 not have the perception of any perfections that are want- 
 ing to him, that is to say, which he has not in himself 
 formally or eminently (by Axiom VII.) ; for having the 
 power of conserving me, as has been recently said, he 
 should have, it fortiori , the power of conferring these 
 24 
 
370 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 perfections on himself, if they were wanting to him (by 
 Axioms VIII. and IX.). 
 
 But he has the perception of all the perfections which 
 I discover to be wanting to me, and which I conceive can 
 be in God alone, as I recently proved : 
 
 Hence he has all these in himself, formally or eminently, 
 and thus he is God. 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 God has created the sky and the earth and all that is 
 therein contained; and besides this he can make all the 
 things which we clearly conceive in the manner in which 
 we conceive them. 
 
 DEMONSTRATION. 
 
 All these things clearly follow from the preceding 
 proposition. For in it we have proved the existence of 
 God, from its being necessary that some one should exist 
 in whom are contained formally or eminently all the 
 perfections of which there is in us any idea. 
 
 But we have in us the idea of a power so great, that 
 by the being alone in whom it resides, the sky and the 
 earth, etc., must have been created, and also that by the 
 same being all the other things which we conceive as 
 possible can be produced. 
 
 Hence, in proving the existence of God, we have also 
 proved with it all these things. 
 
 Proposition IV. 
 
 The mind and body are really distinct. 
 
 demonstration. 
 
 All that we clearly conceive can be made by God in 
 the manner in which we conceive it (by foregoing Corol- 
 lary). 
 
 But we clearly conceive mind, that is, a substance 
 which thinks, without body: that is to say, without an 
 extended substance (by Postulate II.); and, on the other 
 hand, we as clearly conceive body without mind ( as 
 every one admits): 
 
ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD 
 
 37 * 
 
 Hence, at least, by the omnipotence of God, the mind 
 can exist without the body, and the body without the 
 mind. 
 
 Now, substances which can exist independently of each 
 other, are really distinct (by Definition X.). 
 
 But the mind and the body are substances (by Defini- 
 tions V., VI. and VII.), which can exist independently of 
 each other, as I have recently proved: 
 
 Hence the mind and the body are really distinct. 
 
 And it must be observed that I have here made use of 
 the omnipotence of God in order to found my proof on it, 
 not that there is need of any extraordinary power in 
 order to separate the mind from the body, but for this 
 reason, that, as I have treated of God only in the fore- 
 going propositions, I could not draw my proof from any 
 other source than from him: and it matters very little 
 by what power two things are separated in order to dis- 
 cover that they are really distinct. 
 

 
 
 


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