philosophy

SPINOZA

COMPLETE WORKS with

Translations by Samuel Shirley

Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by

Michael L. Morgan

Hackett Publishing Company, Inc. Indianapolis I Cambridge

Baruch Spinoza: 1 632-1677

Copyright © 2002 by Hackett Publ ishing Company, Inc.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publ ication Data

Spinoza, Benedictus de, 1 6 32-1 677. [Works. Engl ish . 2002] Complete works/Spinoza; translated by Samuel Shirley and others;

edited, with introduction and notes, by Michael L. Morgan. p . cm.

Includes bibl iographical references and index. ISBN 0-87220-620-3 (cloth) I. Philosophy. I. Shirley, Samuel, 1 9 1 2- II . Morgan, Michael L., 1 944-

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The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences- Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1 984.

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Translator's Preface Introduction Chronology Editorial Notes

CONTENTS

Treatise o n the Emendation of the Intellect Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being Principles of Cartesian Ph ilosophy and Metaphysical Thoughts Ethics Theological-Political Treatise Hebrew Grammar Political Treatise The Letters

Index

vii ix

xvii xxi

3 1 108 2 1 3 383 584 676 7 5 5

96 1

TRAN S LATORS P REFAC E

In these translations, I have adhered to the Gebhardt Heidelberg text of 1 926 ex­ cept as noted. Leaving the task of annotation and exposition in the hands of more competent scholars, I shall confine myself in this Preface to a personal odyssey, a sort of voyage around Spinoza.

At Oxford I do not remember that I read anyth ing by Spinoza and very little about him. But that l ittle interested me strangely. So I attended the lectures given by H. H . Joachim, without much understanding. These lectures were delivered in the late afternoon, and as the sun streamed through New College windows onto the gray head of that venerable and beloved figure, it was for me an aesthetic ex­ perience rather than an intellectual enl ightenment.

But the seed was sown. Many years later, being entrusted with the task oflec­ turing to university extension adult classes, I chose Spinoza's Ethics, using the edi­ tion translated by Boyle. That edition was prefaced by an inspiring in troduction by Santayana. But there were a number of passages in the translation that puzzled me, and when I sought out the original Latin in a l ibrary, I found that they were mistranslations. Writing to the publisher, I poin ted out four such passages and pro­ vided my own translations. In due course I received a courteous reply, confirm­ ing my criticisms and promising to incorporate my corrections in the next reprint. A check for £5 was enclosed (it should be remembered that £5 was worth far more in the 1950s than i t is now). The next edition appeared with my corrections.

Now I had tasted - justa s ip- of the heady wine of authorship. Ambition grew; could I not improve on the Boyle translation? My offer to do so was courteously refused by the publisher as commercially unviable.

In 1 972, at the age of 60, I resigned my post as headmaster of a grammar school . G ifted with the abundant leisure of retirement, I turned my mind to a translation ofSpinoza's Ethics. This I duly offered to some respected publ ishers in the United Kingdom. They declined, invariably with courteous regrets, but one of them, for­ tunately, advised me to try Hackett Publ ishing Company in the United States.

So began my long and happy connection with Hackett. My translation of the Ethics came out in 1982. Encouraged by a few laudatory reviews, I turned my at­ tention to the Theological-Political Treatise, a work for which I have a fervent ad­ miration . Thereafter, gently cajoled by Lee Rice, to whom I rema in vastly indebted, I con tinued with the rest of Spinoza's works with the exception of the Hebrew Grammar and the Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being, which was originally written in Dutch. The results are here before you.

vii

viii Translator's Preface

A word on Spinoza's Latinity. This was criticized by some earlier scholars, per­ haps because of h is modest admission in Letter 1 3 , where he seeks the help of h is more accompl ished friends in polishing his hastily composed Principles orCarte­ sian Philosophy. Unsure of h imself as he may have been, he nevertheless suc­ ceeded in forging for himself a powerful l inguistic instrument, wonderfully lucid, devoid of all rhetoric, and with a peculiar charm of its own. I t was an appropriate medium of expression for one who, in much of the Ethics, was nearing the l imits of what it is that can be put into words.

I could not have persisted with the task of translation without a steady convic­ tion of its worthwhileness. To my mind, although Spinoza l ived and thought long before Darwin, Freud, Einstein, and the startl ing impl ications of quantum theory, he had a vision of truth beyond what is normally granted to human beings. He was relentless in pursuit of a goal that was basically ethical and rel igious, ridding h imself of the anthropocentric bias that is inevitably innate in human beings and manifested in their rel igious beliefs. His conclusions did not d ismay him, as they did so many of his contemporaries when they realized the full impl ications. Even Henry Oldenburg, h is correspondent for many years, in h is later letters was ap­ palled when he came to see the full implications of Spinoza's radical th inking. But Spinoza boldly looked reality in the face and, far from being discouraged at what he saw, drew from it a spiritual sustenance, an elevation of mind that sup­ ported him all his life. It is th is aspect ofSpinozism that is captured in the title of Errol Harris' book Salvation from Despair. Such, then, are the considerations, purely personal, that have induced me to undertake this lengthy task.

Finally, while I have never contributed to the rich field of Spinozan exegesis, I venture to share with readers an idea that continues to occur to me, one that may be capable of elaboration by other scholars. Genuine artistic creativity seems to us a mysterious business. Many writers, poets, painters, and composers have tried to indicate, with varying success, what happens in this process. They say that they do not know what they are doing or are about to do. They are, as it were, possessed. My own favorite illustration is Book IV of the Aeneid, where Vergil becomes so absorbed in the creation of h is Dido character that the stammering Aeneas cuts a very unheroic figure; yet he should be the flawless hero, the prototype of his al­ leged descendant Augustus. Can the essence of God be seen as the source of the ill-understood phenomenon that we call artistic creativity? In the "conatus" ofhu­ man beings, a conaius that derives from God's potentia, do we see a shadow, an image, of God's creativity, finding expression most markedly in the process of artis­ tic creativity?

I conclude with a tribute to my wife, who heroically endured for many years my preoccupation with Spinoza.

Samuel Shirley

INTRODUCTION

Reading the works of Spinoza, one can be overwhelmed by a sense of abstract rigor and detachment. They may seem to some readers the product of an almost mechanical mental l ife. This appearance notwithstanding, I am inclined to as­ cribe to Spinoza a romantic set of virtues. He is among thinkers extraordinarily creative and novel ; his thinking is marked by a marvelous intensity and focus; and yet his deepest commitments are to the most embracing unity and sense of com­ prehensiveness that one can find in the tradition of Western philosophy. In short, Spinoza's writings and h is thought are marked by a kind of heroism that is rare and beautiful -even breathtaking.

We are tempted to think that the notion of perspective or points of view, so cru­ cial to the world of art, was not of importance to philosophy until Kant and Ger­ man Ideal ism made it so. Kant, it is said, taught us what metaphYSiCS could and could not accomplish by confining its investigations to the viewpoint of human ex­ perience and then went on to distinguish between the detached point of view of the scientific enquirer and the engaged point of view of the moral agent. From those beginnings, German Idealism and its twentieth-century legacy made the notion of perspective or point of view central to philosophical accounts of human existence and human experience, from Fichte, Schelling, and Kant to Schopen­ hauer and Nietzsche, to Husserl, Heidegger, and beyond. And with this legacy came a series of stmggles, between the natural and the human sciences, between exis­ tentialism and scientific philosophy, between relativism and objectivism, and more.

But perspective was at the center of Spinoza's system. H is th inking shows a pas­ sion for unity and totality, coupled with a scrupulous fidelity to the integrity of the individual particular. There is no parochialism in Spinoza. His commitment to the progress of scientific enquiry into the natural world belied any such l imitation in behalf of his cognitive goals. In every way, in every dimension of our lives, Spinoza saw the common; he saw unity and wholeness. At the same time his allegiance to the univell>ality of the ethical l ife and its virtues did not annul the personal per­ spective of human experience. For him life was always a struggle against our finite l imitations of perspective and particularity. Life was not life without such l imita­ tions, but neither could life be what it could be if we were satisfied with them. The world was of necessity filled with particular objects, but they existed within a Single order. We are among those objects, and our goal is to do what we can, in knowledge and conduct, to l ive with our particularity and yet transcend it. Spinoza was fully aware of the necessity and the complexity of human pell>pective; he knew what it

ix

Introduction

meant to the hopes for scientific knowledge, for the burdens of religious, moral , and political confl ict, and for the possibility of a truly blessed life. In a certain sense, per­ spective is the fulcrum on which all Spinoza's thinking turns.

Spinoza l ived in a world distant from our own. No amount of h istorical deta il and reconstruction can adequately place us in the complex world of Western Europe in the seventeenth century. So much was new and yet so much was old. Spinoza was immersed in all of it, in a world that was, by virtue of its economic and geograph ical situation, at a crossroads. Spinoza knew about rel igious ortho­ doxies and about rel igious reform; he knew about traditional culture and novel­ ties; he knew about old texts and new thinking, abou t the tensions between conservative pol i tical practice and l iberal hopes and aspirations; and he knew about the risks- persecution and possibly death. To him, reason in us was akin to reason in nature; one order permeated everything and enabled us, as rational beings, to understand ourselves and the whole and to l ive peacefully and calmly within it. This was the key to science, to ethics, and to religion. It was the key to all of l ife. It was his goal to show, clarify, explain, and teach it- to the benefit of all humankind.

If the key that unlocked the secrets of possibil ity for us as human beings was unity and totality, the wholeness and order of all things, then the reality that grounded the aspiration to this unity and order was the fact that each of us, as nat­ ural objects and as human beings, was precisely located in that unity and order; each of our places was determined in every way, and we were thereby endowed with a very particular point of view on the whole. In a letter to Henry Oldenburg of November 1 665 (Ep32), as he attempts to clarify the natu re of parts and wholes, Spinoza provides us with a famous image. Each of us is, he tells us, l ike a l ittle worm in the blood. Natu re is l ike the en tire circulatory system or l ike the entire organism; each of us lives within that system or organism, interacting with only a small part of it and experiencing only a very l imited region. Even if we grasp the fact that there is a total system and understand its principles to some degree, our experience is so circumscribed and narrow that we are bound to make mistakes about our understanding of the system and our place in it. Myopia confines our understanding, no matter how we seek to overcome i t. And we do. We aspire to experience every detail, every event, and every item as part of the whole, to see it from the perspective of the whole rather than from our own narrow poin t of view. Our success is l imited; we can free ourselves from prejudices and blindness but only to a degree. We can see ourselves and act in terms of the whole, but only within l imits. Our goal is to free ourselves from the distortions and corruptions of our finitude, to become free, active, and rational . These are all the same, and are aspects of becoming l ike the whole, which is what the tradition dignifies with the title "God" or "divine" or "the H ighest Good."

I do not believe that Spinoza saw th is challenge and th is sort of l ife as an es­ cape from the world. H istory was riddled with strife and confl ict, with prejudice and persecution. Life could be better; i t could be harmonious with nature rather than a struggle with i t. Rel igious and pol itical institutions could be renovated to

Introduction xi

serve human purposes, and human l ife could be refashioned as well . The an­ cient Stoics had understood that l ife in harmony with nature was the best human l ife, and that in order to achieve such harmony, one had to understand nature. Natural philosophy or science was both the h ighest achievement of human rational ity and the key to l iving the best human life. Spinoza, I believe, fully sym­ pathized with the broad strokes of th is program . Like the Stoics, he revered rea­ son and our rational capaci ties. Like them, he saw our reason and the reason in nature as intimately l inked. Like them, he saw natural philosophy as the key to opening the door of the h ighest good and the way through that door as leading to tranquility of spirit, harmony with nature, and peace. To be sure, Spinoza was a modern . Natural ph ilosophy meant the developments and achievements of the new science, conducted in the spirit of Descartes and others, grounded in math­ ematics and a priori reasoning about natural events and causal relations. But if the science was modem and mathematical and the metaphysics constructed as a foundation for that science, the overall role for it and its goals were very simi­ lar to those of the ancient Stoics: un ion with the whole of nature through knowl­ edge of the natural order.

Moreover, Spinoza would call the goal of th is project- the human project­ "blessedness." He did not shy away from religious terminology, the vocabulary of the Judaism and the Christianity with which he was so familiar. Indeed, it is a re­ markable feature of his temperament that his th inking never totally rejected reli­ gious themes, beliefs, and vocabulary as much as it sought to refine and refashion them. One might say th is about virtually all of the great seventeenth-century philosophers, that they did not decisively reject the rel igious world out of which they emerged and in which they l ived. They sought to retool that world, to come to a new understanding of rel igiOUS l ife and to revise rel igiOUS concepts and ter­ minology. Even those, l ike Hobbes and Spinoza, who were censored and vil ified as atheists, did not reject rel igion . More correctly, we, from our perspective, can appreciate their philosophical goals as epistemological, ethical, and rel igiOUS all at once. Spinoza, in these terms, was a religious visionary, a moral innovator, and a philosopher-scientist, not one bu t all . His passion for unity and wholeness made any fragmentation of this conglomerate undesirable, but the reality was that in h is day, given the way that these and other domains ofl ife were lived and experienced, any such fragmentation was quite impossible.

Hence, Spinoza's scientific philosophy and ethics aimed at tranquil ity in a con­ flicted and turbulent world; they did not seek escape from that world but rather a renovation of it. His was a world view for life, not for escape from l ife. It recom­ mended changes in one's behavior and one's beliefs, practices, and institu tions. What i t did not recommend was escape from life. I t was, as he put i t in the Ethics, a meditation on l ife and not on death.

One could seek the perspective of eternity in order to redeem the unavoidable perspective of finitude, but, as l iving and natural beings, we could not escape the latter and, as human beings, we should not avoid the former. This is the gist of Spinoza's philosophy, h is eth ics, and h is rel igion. The key to grasping th is picture

xii Introduction

of our hopes and our realities is reason , that abil ity within us that enables us to understand and make sense of our world and ourselves.

Spinoza presents us with the total ity of his system in one work: the Ethics. He also left us with a prel iminary version of that work, as well as two treatises that consti­ tute introductions to h is philosophy, and writings that are examples of appl ica­ tions of that work- to pol i tics and rel igion. Because these do not completely agree with each other, all of this makes it hard to grasp his ph ilosophical system.

To me Spinoza is remarkable for h is creativity. He was an heir of a philosophi­ cal terminology that came down to the seventeenth century from antiquity, the recovery of ancient philosophies and texts, and its presence in the medieval philo­ sophical tradition. He did not invent terms like "substance," "attribute," "mode," "affect," "essence," "necessity," and "eternity." He was taught the terms, how they were used, what they meant, and more. And he was taught how they figured in the thinking of Descartes, who was, for Spinoza, the bridge between the philosophical tradition and the new philosophy and new science. What Spinoza did was to take the tradition, Descartes' accompl ishment, and h is own passionate commitments and blend them into a new whole, a new worldview. At one level, it is an extension and modification of Cartesian metaphysics; at another, it has its own character and demands a view of the natural order very different from that of Descartes.

Spinoza has a relentless mind. His commitment to reason involves a commit­ ment to consistency and rigor. This is not to say that he does not allow h is reason to leap to conclusions that seem strange and even recalcitrant to us, and i t is not to say that he never makes mistakes. What I mean is that he can be understood as starting with certain concepts whose meanings are clear and correct to him and pushing the consequences of accepting those concepts. He can also be under­ stood as observing what Descartes had achieved and yet as believing that Descartes had fuiled to follow reason to its relentless conclusions because of prej­ udices, biases to which Descartes had clung and which Spinoza saw as distortions. In the case of the concept of substance, for example, Spinoza thought that he and Descartes largely agreed about what substance means, but he thought too that if so, there was no justification for treating minds and bodies as substances. More­ over, if the principle of sufficient reason was foundational for scientific enquiry and if the natural world and even eternal truths were created by God, then a deep contingency would lie at the heart of nature and human knowledge. And even if one were to treat the physical world as a collection of bodies that causally inter­ act and are capable of being understood by scientific enquiry, why exclude the mind and mental occurrences from similar understanding? Is it not only a preju­ dice grounded in traditional theological commitments to isolate the mind or the soul, allow it special privileges, and grant it special features? Is it not more con­ sistent with our understanding of nature, science, and the human good to treat the mind and mental phenomena just as one would treat physical ones and yet to do so in a nonreductivist way-that is, without simply treating mental events as iden tical in some sense with physiological ones?

Introduction xiii

While it may be a bit of a caricature, it is helpful to see Spinoza as seeking a middle ground regarding the treatment of mind, soul, and mental phenomena in a world where the physical sciences are beginning to take shape in new and ex­ citing ways. On the one hand, the Cartesian strategy could be seen as having iso­ lated the mind in order to save the in tegrity of certain theological commitments, such as the belief in free will and in the immortality of the soul. Science could not study the mind and mental phenomena in the same way i t could study the physical world, using mathematical reasoning and applying it to causality, mo­ tion, and so forth. The strategy of materialists l ike Hobbes, on the other hand, could be seen as reducing mental phenomena to physical ones- that is, basically to motions of various kinds-and defining mental processes and experiences in terms of motions of physical bodies. What Spinoza achieves, its problems notwith­ standing, is a middle road. He constructs a view of nature as a whole in which physical events and mental events are both understandable, in which they are re­ lated but separate, and in which the sciences of the physical world and ofthe men­ tal world are related but distinct. I t may be that Kant, Dilthey, and Neo-Kantian developments and later debates abou t the distinction between the natural sci­ ences and the human sciences look l ike they are built on Cartesian foundations; there is also a sense in which they build on Spinozist ones as well. To the degree that the social sciences and psychology are conceived as requiring a scientific treatment of mental phenomena, they are Spinoza's heirs, whether or not that sci­ entific treatment is conceived of as similar to or different from the methodology of the natural sciences. Indeed, there are post-Kantian attempts by Wilfrid Sell­ ars, John McDowell, and others to distinguish the domain of the mental and the "space of reasons" from the physical or the "space of causes." These can even be treated as a development of Spinoza and h is commitment to demystifying the mind and the body and to making both accessible to rational understanding and thereby, in a sense, to human control.

There are two keys to this Spinozist achievement. The first is to conceive of the totality of the natural world as both the sum of all facts- that is, all things in all oftheir determinations-and the ordering force that determines all those facts to be just the ways they are. To conceive of nature as God and as substance gives the natural world the unity and orderl iness that Spinoza believes science aspires to understand and makes it the case that everyth ing we do and are finds its rational place within the totality of nature. The second key to Spinoza's system concerns the "channels" whereby the single ordering force or principle ("God") is the single active causal determining force of all there is, and actually determines things and their states in the world. At the h ighest level, where these "channels" are virtually identical to God or the one and only substance but are nonetheless wholly distinct from each other, Spinoza calls these "attributes" of substance, and while he thinks that in principle the one and only one substance has all the at­ tributes that there are, there are but two that determine the world in which we l ive: thought and extension. In short, all the modes- things and their states-that make up the natural world are modes of though t and extension, and while schol­ ars have debated exactly how the distinction between these attributes should be

xiv Introduction

understood, I believe that what Spinoza means is that we understand the single array of facts in the world by using both the physical sciences and the psycholog­ ical sciences. In the fumous Proposition 7 of Part II of the Ethics and in the schol ium to that proposition, Spinoza indicates j ust th is: that the order and connection of ideas or mental phenomena is one and the same as the order and connection of physical ones. This is a proposition with countless important implications throughout the remainder of the Ethics and Spinoza's system.

As fur as our attempts to understand the world go, then, for Spinoza these at­ tempts are self-contained and comprehensive. All worldly fucts should be exam­ ined and studied in the same way; there is a uniformity to all of nature. Mental modes interact causally with mental modes, and physical modes interact causally with physical modes. But since, strictly speaking, there is just one set of facts in nature, what this means is that these two types of scientific understanding are self-contained. We do not use physical causes to help us understand mental phe­ nomena, nor do we use mental causes to help us understand physical phenom­ ena. Moreover, in a sense the sciences of both physical and mental phenomena apply to all things in the world, and this means that Spinoza must show in what sense even inanimate things have mental or ideational correlates and what dis­ tingUishes animals and most preeminently human beings among worldly things- that is, what we mean when we say they have minds or souls.

I do not mean to suggest that on all these matters Spinoza was clear and lucid throughout his career and never changed his mind. A careful study ofthe early Trea­ tise on the Emendation of the Intellect and Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being, for example, shows how his thinking developed into the shape we find in the Ethics, and we are helped to some degree in understanding how Spinoza's ideas developed by some of the letters in his correspondence. But the basic char­ acter of his thinking, I believe, did not change from the time around h is excom­ munication in 1 656 until his death in 1 677. Throughout h is life Spinoza was always committed to finding a way to unite science, ethics, and religion and to articulating a metaphysical system that would make the whole of nature, human life, and reli­ gious themes comprehensible. His system was an attempt to work out what made nature unified and an ordered whole and then to see what that picture impl ied.

Between the covers of this collection you will find the totality ofSpinoza's writings, all that we now have come to th ink that he left us. If this is a big book, it is also a small one, particularly when compared to the total written corpus of other philoso­ phers, such as Aristotle, Aquinas, Locke, Kant, Hegel, and Nietzsche. Given Spin­ oza's impact on subsequent Western philosophy and Westem intellectual culture in genernl, so brilliantly surveyed for example in the recent work ofJonathan Israel (Radical Enlightenment [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 200 I J), h is written legacy is surprisingly spare. Nonetheless, its richness is evident everywhere.

Furthermore, the corpus of Spinoza's works contains a fuscinating diversity. There is at its center, of course, the presentation of his system, the Ethics. Begun

Introduction xv

in the early I 660s, th is work was probably completed about 1 674. It is h is lifework, the centerpiece of what came to be known as Spinozism, and one of the great ac­ compl ishments of world philosophy and Westem intellectual culture.

In addition to the Ethics and his philosoph ical system, Spinoza left us what we might call four different introductions to that work and that system. The first is h is handbook on Cartesian philosophy, first composed as a guide to tutoring a stu­ dent in Descartes' Principles of Philosophy and useful for what it shows us about Spinoza's early appreciation of Descartes. The second is h is youthful, unfinished work, the Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect. Largely a work on method and definition, th is short essay places Spinoza's project within an ethical context. The third introduction is the unfinished Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being, which is a prel iminary attempt to begin the system and which Spin­ oza set aide when he decided to turn to the early parts of the Ethics. And finally we can treat the anonymous treatise on biblical interpretation and pol itiCS, the Theological-Political Treatise, as an introductory work, insofar as i t seeks to per­ suade those with an affinity for philosophy and science how to read Scripture and understand its central ethical teaching; revise traditional interpretations of no­ tions such as prophecy, law, and miracles; and appreciate the relation between church and state. What we have, then, is a mansion with four entrances, any one of which enables us to en ter the vast complex of Spinoza's world .

Furthermore, Spinoza has given us, in the Theological-Political Treatise and in the unfinished Political Treatise, two examples of how h is system might be appl ied more fully to areas dealt with in only a cursory way in the Ethics, reli­ gion and pol i tics. To be sure, in both cases, there are al ready indications in the Ethics of how Spinoza thinks we should understand rel igious concepts and in­ stitu tions and also poli tical life. Especially in various scholia and in the appen­ dix to Part I , he notes how traditional ideas such as creation, miracles, teleology, and free will must be either revised or j ettisoned altogether. In Part IV of the Ethics, Spinoza sets out the rudiments of his contract theory and of h is views on the foundations and purposes of the state. Finally, in Part V, in the famous final propositions of the work, Spinoza defends and reinterprets what he takes to be the eternity of the mind and the goal of the ethical l ife, an " intellectual love of God" that is blessedness itself, a goal, he says, that is as difficult as it is rare. These indications notwithstanding, the treatises on politics and religion add s ignifi­ cantly to our understanding of how Spinoza's naturalism applies to these do­ mains of human experience.

In Chapter 7 of the Theological-Political Treatise Spinoza describes h is "his­ torical" method for interpreting Scripture. The first requ irement for any respon­ s ible reader is a study of the Hebrew language. Among Spinoza's writings we have an unfinished treatise on Hebrew Grammar, a work that he probably began to write shortly after finishing the Theological-Political Treatise at the request of friends. The Hebrew Grammar gives us a valuable insight into what he thought that study of Hebrew should involve, Spinoza's understanding of Latin grammar and bibl ical Hebrew, and his general approach to intellectual activity- in this case a philological and l ingu istic inqu iry.

xvi Introduction

Lastly, among the writings of Spinoza we are grateful to possess are a sampl ing of his correspondence-letters to him and many by h im. Here we are helped to understand better h is ph ilosophical and rel igious views, but we are also given valuable information about the chronology of h is works, about h is friends and as­ sociates, and about his l ife. Without these letters, we would know less about Spin­ oza the person than we currently do and less too about his thinking.

I would l ike to thank Deborah Wilkes, Jay Hullett, and Frances Hackett for the invitation to edit the first Engl ish collection of Spinoza's works, for their friend­ ship over many years, and for the wonderful contribution to the study of ph iloso­ phy that Hackett Publ ish ing Company has made. Needless to say, we are all in the debt of Samuel Shirley, whose commitment to Spinoza and his writings has provided us with splendid translations and made this volume possible. At Hackett, Meera Dash orchestrated the production of the collection with patience and skil l . I would also l ike to thank Abigail Coyle for helping with the design of the volume. Rondo Keele, Inge Van Der Cruysse, Bieneke Heitjama, and Michal Levy assisted with matters Latin, Dutch, and Hebrew. Lee Rice generously provided an exten­ sive chronology, which we modified for this volume. Joshua Shaw assisted with the proofs; he and Lilian Yahng compiled the bulk of the Index.

There is something inspiring and noble about Spinoza's philosophical think­ ing and his moral vision. An important feature of h is Ethics is its emphasis on rational ity and self-control; we all face the challenges of coping with the worries and the fears that fill our l ives, and yet we go on. We can learn this lesson from Spinoza's works; we can also learn it from life. As this project comes to comple­ tion, I am thankful for those special people who have helped me to learn it- my wife, Audrey, and my daughters, Debbie and Sara.

Michael L. Morgan

C H RONOLOGY

1 5 36 Calvin publ ishes the Institution of the Christian Religion.

1 565 Beginning of the war of independence of the Spanish-Dutch region against Spain .

1 579 The "Union of Utrecht" establishes the United Provinces.

1 594 Publ ication of Socinus' De Christo Servatore.

1 600? The Espinosa family emigrates from Portugal to Nantes and thence to Amsterdam.

1 603 Arminius and Gomar debate at Leiden on the questions of tolerance and freedom of the will.

1 6 1 0 Uytenbogaert, a disciple o f Arminius a n d teacher o f Oldenbarneveldt, publ ishes the Remonstrant Manifesto.

1 6 1 8 The Thirty Years War begins.

1 6 19 The Synod of Dordrecht condemns Arminianism and puts Oldenbarn­ evelt to death . The Collegiant sect is formed. Descartes is a soldier in the army of Maurice of Nassau.

1 628 Descartes is living in Holland.

1 629 18 October: Lodewijk Meyer is baptized at the Old Church in Amster- dam.

1 630 4 November: Johan Bouwmeester is bom in Amsterdam. 1 632 24 November: Birth of Baruch d'Espinosa at Amsterdam. 1 633 Papal condemnation of Galileo, who is placed under house arrest.

Descartes decides not to publ ish Le Monde.

1 638 The founding of the great Portuguese Synagogue of Amsterdam. Spinoza is registered as a student in the Hebrew school.

1 640 Beginning of the Engl ish civil war.

1 64 1 Descartes' Meditationes de Prima Philo80phia i s published.

1 642 Hobbes publ ishes De Cive.

xvii

xviii Chronology

1 644 Descartes publ ished Principia Philosophiae.

1 647 Descartes' Meditations Metaphysiques is publ ished in French transla- tion.

1 648 The Peace of Munster. Definitive establ ishment of the United Provinces.

1 649 Charles I of England is executed.

1 6 50 1 1 February: Death of Descartes. 6 November: A failed coup d'�tat by Will iam II of Orange. Jan de Witt becomes the Grand Pensioner of the Netherlands.

1 6 5 1 Beginning o f the Anglo-Dutch War. Hobbes publ ishes Leviathan. 30 March: Bouwmeester is enrolled in philosophy courses at the Uni­ versity of Leiden.

1 6 5 3 A decree b y the States General prohibits the publication a n d diffusion of Socinian works and ideas.

1 6 54 End of the Anglo-Dutch War. Spinoza begins to meet with a group of "churchless Christians' (Pieter BaIJing, Jarig Jelles, Jan Rieuwertsz, Fran­ ciscus Van den Enden) in Amsterdam. 19 September: Meyer is enrolled as a student in philosophy at the University of Leiden.

1 6 5 6 27 July: Spinoza i s banished from the Jewish community in Amsterdam. He begins the study of humanities, Latin, philosophy, and theater at the school of the ex-Jesuit Van den Enden. 6 October: Decree of the States of Holland and of Frisia prohibiting the teaching of Cartesian ism.

1 657 The play Philedonius of Van den Enden is produced in Amsterdam. Spin­ oza is still studying with Van den Enden and may also be enrolled at the University of Leiden .

1 6 5 8 27 May: Bouwmeester receives a doctorate in medicine from the Uni­ versity of Leiden. 25 September: Meyer is enrolled in courses in medicine at Leiden. Spinoza begins work on the Treatise on the Emen­ dation of the Intellect (unfinished) .

1 659 Adriaan Koerbagh receives a doctorate in medicine from the University of Leiden.

1 660 Restoration of the Stuarts in England. Spinoza leaves Amsterdam and moves to Rijnsburg, where he is a familiar visitor among Collegiant cir­ cles. He begins work on the Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well­ Being. 19 March: Meyer receives a doctorate in philosophy from the University of Lei den. 20 March: Meyer receives a doctorate in medicine.

1 662 Founding of the Royal Society. Oldenburg is its joint secretary, and Boyle and Newton are charter members. Spinoza completes the first part of the

Chronology xix

(tripartite) Ethics. He begins work on the Principles of Cartesian Philos­ ophy and Metaphysical Thoughts.

1 663 Simon de Vries meets with Spinoza a t a meeting of the "Spinozistic Cir­ cle" in Amsterdam (Ep8). Letters 1 2 and 1 2a from Spinoza to Meyer, the latter concerning the publication of the Principles of Cartesian Philoso­ phy. Spinoza is installed at Voorburg. He there publishes the Principles of Cartesian Philosophy with Metaphysical Thoughts as appendix. 31 July: Spinoza writes to Oldenburg and introduces Petrus Serrarius. 3 August: Spinoza writes to Meyer concerning Meyer's editorship and preface to the Principles of Cartesian Philosophy, which is published several months later.

1 664 Beginning of the (second) Anglo-Dutch War.

1 665 28 January: Spinoza's Letter 2 1 to Blyenbergh on the interpretation of Scripture. Spinoza makes several visits to Amsterdam, where he probably visits with Meyer during March and April. 26 May: The new Amsterdam Theater opens with Meyer as its director. June: Having completed the first drafts of Parts II and III of the (tripartite) Ethics, Spinoza writes to Bouwmeester (Ep28).

1 666 10 June: Spinoza's Letter 37 to Bouwmeester. 1 667 End of the Anglo-Dutch War. Spinoza's Letter 40 to Jelles mentions Isaac

Vossius as a friend.

1 668 Adriaan Koerbagh's Een Blotmlhof is published. The author is con­ demned by ecclesiastical authorities, and imprisoned on 19 July.

1 669 15 October: Adriaan Koerbagh dies in prison. 1 670 Spinoza publ ishes (anonymously and in Latin) the Theological-Political

Treatise: ecclesiastical condemnations follow. Posthumous publication of the Pensees of Pascal.

1 67 1 Spinoza is installed a tThe Hague, where he prevents (possibly at the sug­ gestion of Jan de Witt) the appearance of the vernacular edition of the Theological-Political Treatise (Ep44) .

1 672 Louis XIV invades Holland. The French army occupies Utrecht (May). William I I of Orange becomes stadtholder (July). 20 August: Jan de Witt and his brother are massacred by a mob probably inspired by Calvinist clergy.

1 673 Spinoza decl ines the chair of ph ilosophy at Heidelberg (Ep47, Ep48). Spinoza visits the military camp of the Prince de Conde. 1 3 No- vember: The French occupation of Utrecht ends. 19 July: The States of Holland publ ish a formal condemnation of the Theological­ Political Treatise and "other heretical and atheistic writings; including

xx Chronology

the works of Hobbes and the Socinians. Malebranche publ ishes the Recherche de la Write, which is accused of being of Spinozist inspi­ ration.

1 675 Spinoza completes and circulates the Ethics but decl ines to publish it. He begins work on the Political Treatise. Spinoza writes to G. H. Schuller (Epn) expressing his distrust of Leibniz.

1 676 16 January: The curator of the University of Leiden issues a new prom- ulgation aga inst Cartesianism. The Synod of The Hague orders an inqu iry into the authorship of the Theological-Political Treatise.

1 677 21 February: Death of Spinoza. His friends edit and publ ish the Opera Posthuma and Nagelate Schriften, all of whose contents are condemned by the pol itical authorities and Calvinists the following year.

1 680 22 October: Death of Bouwmeester. 1 687 Newton publ ishes the first edition of the Mathematical Principles of Nat­

ural Philosophy.

1 688 The "Glorious Revolution": Will iam III becomes King of England.

1 689 Locke publishes his Letter on Tolerance and his Essay on Civil Govern­ ment.

1 697 In his Dictionnaire Historique et Critique, Bayle characterizes Spinoza as "un athee de systeme, etrangement vertueux."

1 7 1 0 Leibniz publishes h is Theodicy.

E D ITORIAL NOT E S

A NOTE ON THE TRANSLATIONS

Of the translations included here, all but those of the Short Treatise and the He­ brew Grammar are by Samuel Sh irley. Shirley's Theological-Political Treatise was originally published in 1 989 by Brill and then republished by Hackett Publ ishing first in 1 998 and then recently, in a corrected version, in 200 1 . Shirley's transla­ tions of the Ethics, the Principles of Cartesian Philosophy with Metaphysical Thoughts, the Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect, the Political Treatise, and The Letters were published by Hackett during the past decade. For this vol­ ume, the editor has revised and edited the notes and made minor changes in the translations, but the bulk of the writing remains as Shirley translated it. For the Short Treatise we have used the translation of A. Wolf first published in 1 9 1 0 ; it has been carefully examined by Bieneke Heitjama and Inge Van Der Cruysse and edited by the editor; Wolf used the older A manuscript of the Short Treatise and presented altemative readings from the B manuscript in notes. We follow h is de­ cisions except in a few cases and provide Spinoza's notes as well as, on some oc­ casions, when important for the reader, altemative versions. In the case of the Hebrew Grammar, we have used the translation of Maurice j . Bloom first pub­ l ished by the Philosophical Library in 1 964. Rondo Keele checked the Bloom translation against the Gebhardt text, and some modifications have been made. The Hebrew texts have been completely revised and corrected using the Geb­ hardt and the French translation of the Hebrew Grammar. In addition, in several cases, the Engl ish has been modified and the translation corrected . An explana­ tion of the system of annotation appears before the first footnote of each work. The Chronology of Spinoza's l ife and times is based on the chronology prepared by Lee Rice for The Letters.

For complete information about Shirley's translations, we direct the reader to the editions of his translations published by Hackett, which also have complete notes and full in troductions by the editors of the separate texts. Of special assis­ tance are the introductions and notes of Steven Barbone and Lee Rice to The Let­ ters and the Political Treatise and those of Seymour Feldman to the Ethics and the Theological-Political Treatise. The best and most comprehensive recent biography ofSpinoza is that of Steven Nadler, Spinoza: A Life (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni­ versity Press, 1 999).

A complete l ist of the translations used for this volume is as follows:

xxi

xxii Editorial Note8

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect and Ethics Spinoza, Baruch . Ethics, Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect, and Selected Letters. Translated by Samuel Shirley. Edited and introduced by Seymour Feldman. Indianapolis: Hackett Publ ish ing Company, 1 992.

Short Treatise Spinoza, Baruch. SpinoiZa's Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being. Translated and edited, with an introduction and commentary, by A. Wolf. London: Adam and Charles Black, 1 9 10 .

Principles o f Cartesian Philosophy and Metaphysical Thoughts Spinoza, Baruch. Principles of Cartesian Philosophy with Metaphysical Thoughts and Lodewi;k Meyer's Inaugural Dissertation. Translated by Samuel Shirley with in­ troduction and notes by Steven Barbone and Lee Rice. Indianapol is: Hackett Pub­ l ishing Company, 1 998.

Theologicat-Political Treatise Spinoza, Baruch. Theological-Political Treatise, second edition. Translated by Samuel Shirley. Introduction by Seymour Feld­ man. Indianapolis: Hackett Publ ish ing Company, 200 1 .

Hebrew Grammar Spinoza, Baruch. Hebrew GramTlUlr [Compendium Gram­ matices Linguae-HebraeaeJ. Edited and translated, with an introduction, by Mau­ rice J . Bloom. New York: Philosophical Library, 1 964.

Political Treatise Spinoza, Baruch. Political Treatise. Translated by Samuel Shirley. In troduction and notes by Steven Barbone and Lee Rice. Indianapolis: Hackett Publ ishing Company, 2000.

The Letters Spinoza, Baruch. The Letters. Translated by Samuel Shirley. Intro­ duction and notes by Steven Barbone, Lee Rice, and Jacob Adler. Indianapolis: Hackett Publ ish ing Company, 1995 .

ABBREVIATIONS

Works ofSpinoza CM Metaphysical Thoughts (Cogitata Metaphysica) (CMI 12 i s

Part I , Chapter 2) E Ethics (Ethica) (followed by arabic numeral for part and

in ternal references) Ep Letters (Epistolae) (followed by arabic numeral ) KV Short Treatise (Korte Verhandeling) (KVI 12/3 is Part I , Chap­

ter 2, Paragraph 3)

PPC

TIE

TP

TIP

Editorial Notes xxiii

Principles of Cartesian Philosophy (Principia Philosophiae Cartesianae) (followed by arabic numeral for part and in ter­ nal references) Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect (Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione) (followed by arabic numeral for paragraph) Political Treatise (Tractatus Politicus) (TPI !2 is Chapter I , Paragraph 2 ) Theological-Political Treatise (Tractatus Theologico-Politicus) (followed by chapter and page number)

Works of D es cartes Med PPH Rep

Meditations (followed by arabic numeral) Principles of Philosophy Replies to Ob;ections

Internal References A Article App Appendix Ax Axiom Cor Corollary Def Definition Dem Demonstration Exp Explanation GenSchol General Schol ium Lem Lemma P Proposition Post Postulate Pref Preface Prol Prologue Schol Schol ium

Page numbers, where given for Descartes' Meditations, are from Descartes, Meditations on First Philosophy, th ird edition, translated by Donald Cress (Indianapol is: Hackett, 1 993) and the Adam-Tannery (AT) edition: Descartes, Oeuvres de Descartes, I I volumes, revised edition, edited by Charles Adam and Paul Tannery (Paris: Vrin 1964--76: reprinted 1996).

TREATI S E ON T H E E MEN DATION

OF T H E INTE LLECT

Scholars agree that the brief Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect (TIE) is the earliest piece of philosophical writing that we have from Spino;ta. It probably dates {rom the period immediately after his excommunication, between 1 657 and 1 660. The treatise is unfinished, and it is likely that Spino;ta set it aside as his work on the more substantial Short Treatise on God, Man, and H is Well­ Being progressed. The latter too was left unifinished. Still, these two works exhibit Spino;ta's first attempts at a philosophical sytem, and while later books, especially the Ethics, correct and extend these early efforts, the two are valuable glimpses of his mature thought.

The TIE is often compared with Descartes' Discourse on Method, first published in 1 636, and the comparison is apt. Indeed, Spino;ta was most likely influenced by Descartes' short introduction to his system. Like the latter, the TIE is an autobiographical work, more personal than most ofSpino;ta's writings. It sets questions of goals and methods in an ethical context and is largely epistemological in content. Descrates' Discourse is itself indebted to Augustine, and he in tum to Plato and Aristotle. In a sense, then, Spino;ta's little work is his protrepticus, his introduction to and apology for the new scientific philosophy, for reason and for the life of reason. It is a sketch for a justification of the philosophical life, reminiscent of the Plato ofPhaedo and Republic and the Aristotle ofNicomachean Ethics X, drawn through the lens of Latin Stoicism.

The immediate autobiographical context for the TIE includes Spino;ta's excommunication in 1 656, his subsequent disengagement from his family's mercantile business and from the Jewish community in Amsterdam, and his more intense involvement with his rationalist, radical friends. By 1 661 Spino;ta was well known as a Cartesian and as a lens grinder skilled at producing optical lenses. He was associated with rational critics of Scripture like Juan de Prado, Isaac La Peyrere, and Uriel da Costa. Spino;za was a member of the circle around Franciscus Van den Enden, a frequent participant in Collegiant meetings, and an expert in Cartesian philosophy. There is reason to believe that Spino;ta's critical spirit and attraction to the revolutionary science of his day were not new. They had been cultivated since his teenage years and came to a head with his public expulsion from the Jewish community. By that time, 27 July 1 656, Spino;ta had been a student and disciple of Van den Enden for some time and an advocate of tolerance, rational critique, and religious freedom. His traditional Jewish

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

education, thorough as it was, had turned, when he was 14 or 1 5 years old, into this new set of commitments. The result was a view of God, nature, and the human good more rational and more universal than the traditional establishment could bear.

By 1 657 Spinoza's exile was at least sufficient to cut him off from his teachers R. Saul Morteira and R. Manasseh ben Israel and to intensify his radical intellectual friendships with thinkers such as Van den Enden, Lodewijk Meyer, Adriaan Koerbagh, Pieter Balling, Simon de Vries, and larig lelles. He probably lived with Van den Enden for a time, for he was the latters prize student, and it was at his school that he had first become acquainted with the philosophy of Descartes and much else. He turned to lens grinding to earn a living, increased his scholarly associations by spending time at the university in Leiden, and frequently attended the meetings of the religiously radical Protestant group, the Collegiants.

The TIE, one might speculate, is the first literary product of this intense activity, hence its rather personal and programmatic qualities. It is a work marked by three significant features. First, in it Spinoza valorizes the life of reason and in particular scientific reason and the attainment of a knowledge of nature. Second, Spinoza distinguishes four modes of cognition, two of which, associated with imagination and sensation, are inadequate and defective, and the remaining two of which, involving deductive reasoning and intuitive reason, are the height of human achievement. Finally, Spinoza discusses the requirements of definition, distinguishing the definition of emmal essences from those of dependent and contingent ones. At this point, the text breaks off. It is a beginning, but only that. Some believe Spinoza abandoned the work when other tasks became more compelling; others, however, believe he left the TIE when he came to doubt the fruitfulness of its method. In years to come, the Ethics would mark a new beginning-working from new principles and in a new way.

M.L.M.

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

NOTICE TO THE READER

(by the Editors of the Opera Posthuma)

This "Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect, etc . ," which in its unfinished state we here present to you, dear reader, was written by our author many years ago. He always intended to finish i t, but, distracted by h is other occupations and taken from us by death, he did not succeed in bringing it to the desired conclu­ sion. But since i t contains many excellent and useful things which we are con­ vinced will be of considerable interest to an earnest seeker after truth, we did not wish to deprive you of them. That you may the more readily excuse occasional obscurities and lack of pol ish that appear in places in the text, we have thought it proper that you , too, should be made aware of these circumstances.

TREATISE ON THE EMENDATION

OF THE INTELLECT

AND ON THE WAY BY WHICH IT Is BEST DIRECTED TO THE

TRUE KNOWLEDGE OF THINGS

After experience had taught me the hollowness and futil ity of everyth ing that is ordinarily encountered in daily l ife, and I realised that all the things which were the source and object of my anxiety held nothing of good or evil in themselves save insofar as the mind was influenced by them, I resolved at length to enquire whether there existed a true good, one which was capable of communicating it­ self and could alone affect the mind to the exclusion of all else, whether, in fact, there was something whose discovery and acquisition would afford me a contin­ uous and supreme joy to all eternity.

I say 'I resolved at length: for at first sight i t seemed ill-advised to risk the loss of what was certa in in the hope of something at that time uncertain . I could well see the advantages that derive from honour and wealth, and that I would be forced to abandon their quest if I were to devote myself to some new and different ob­ jective. And if in fact supreme happiness were to be found in the former, I must inevitably fail to attain it, whereas if it did not lie in these objectives and I devoted myself entirely to them, then once again I would lose that highest happiness.

I therefore debated whether it might be possible to arrive at a new guiding prin­ ciple-or at least the sure hope of its atta inment-without changing the manner

4 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

and normal routine of my l ife. This I frequently attempted, but in vain. For the things which for the most part offer themselves in life, and which, to judge from their actions, men regard as the highest good, can be reduced to these three headings: riches, honour, and sensual pleasure. With these three the mind is so distracted that i t is quite incapable of th inking of any other good. With regard to sensual pleasure, the mind is so utterly obsessed by it that it seems as if it were ab­ sorbed in some good, and so is quite prevented from thinking of anything else. But after the enjoyment of th is pleasure there ensues a profound depression which, if i t does not completely inhibit the mind, leads to its confusion and en­ ervation. The pursuit of honour and wealth, too, engrosses the mind to no small degree, especially when the latter is sought exclusively for its own sake,' for it is then regarded as the h ighest good. Even more so is the mind obsessed with hon­ our, for this is always regarded as a good in itself and the ul timate end to which everything is directed. Then again, in both these cases, there is no repentance as in the case of sensual pleasure. The more each of them is possessed, the more our joy is enhanced, and we are therefore more and more induced to increase them both . But if it should come about that our hopes are disappointed, there ensues a profound depression. And finally, honour has this great drawback, that to attain i t we must conduct our lives to sui t other men, avoiding what the masses avoid and seeking what the masses seek.

So when I saw that all these things stood in the way of my embarking on a new course, and were indeed so opposed to it that I must necessarily choose between the one alternative and the other, I was forced to ask what was to my greater ad­ vantage; for, as I have said, I seemed set on losing a certain good for the sake of an uncertain good. But after a l ittle reflection, I first of all realised that if I aban­ doned the old ways and embarked on a new way of l ife, I should be abandoning a good that was by its very nature uncerta in -as we can clearly gather from what has been said - in favour of one that was uncerta in not of its own nature (for I was seeking a permanent good) but only in respect of its attainment. Then persistent meditation enabled me to see that, if only I could be thoroughly resolute, I should be abandoning certain evils for the sake of a certain good. For I saw that my situ­ ation was one of great peril and that I was obliged to seek a remedy with all my might, however uncertain it might be, l ike a sick man suffering from a fatal mal­ ady who, foreseeing certa in death unless a remedy is forthcoming, is forced to seek i t, however uncerta in it be, with all his might, for therein l ies all his hope. Now all those objectives that are commonly pursued not only contribute nothing to the preservation of our being but even h inder it, being frequently the cause of the de­ struction of those who gain possession of them, and invariably the cause of the de-

All notes are Spmoza's.

a This could be ex:plamed more fully and clearly by making a dtsttndion between wealth that is sought for its own sake, for the sake of honour, for sensual pleasure, for health, or for the advancement of the sciences and the arts. But thiS IS reserved for Its proper place, such a detailed mveshgation be� ing inappropnate here.

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

struction of those who are possessed by them b For there are numerous examples of men who have suffered persecution unto death because of their wealth, and also of men who have exposed themselves to so many dangers to acqu ire riches that they have finally paid for their folly with their l ives. Nor are there less nu­ merous examples of men who, to gain or preserve honour, have suffered a most wretched fate. Finally, there are innumerable examples of men who have has­ tened their death by reason of excessive sensual pleasure.

These evils, moreover, seemed to arise from this, that all happiness or unhap­ piness depends solely on the qual ity of the object to wh ich we are bound by love. For strife will never arise on account of that which is not loved; there will be no sorrow if it is l ost, no envy if i t is possessed by another, no fear, no hatred- in a word, no emotional agitation, all of which, however, occur in the case of the love of perishable th ings, such as all those of which we have been speaking. But love 1 0 towards a thing eternal a nd infinite feeds the mind with j oy alone, unmixed with any sadness. This is greatly to be desired, and to be sought with all our might. How­ ever, it was not without reason that I used these words, 'If only I could be earnestly resolute; for although I perceived these things qu ite clearly in my mind, I could not on that account put aside all greed, sensual pleasure, and desire for esteem.

This one thing I could see, that as long as my mind was occupied with these 1 1 thoughts, i t turned away from those other objectives and earnestly applied itself to the quest for a new guiding principle. This was a great comfort to me, for I saw that those evils were not so persistent as to refuse to yield to remedies. And although at first these intermissions were rare and of very brief duration, never­ theless, as the true good becarne rnore and more discernible to me, these inter­ missions became more frequent and longer, especially when I realised that the acquisition of money, sensual pleasure, and esteem is a hindrance only as long as they are sought on their own account, and not as a means to other th ings. If they are sought as means, they will then be under some restriction, and far from being hindrances, they will do much to further the end for which they are sought, as I shall demonstrate in its proper place.

At this point I shall only state briefly what I understand by the true good, and at 1 2 the same time what i s the supreme good. In order that this may be rightly under­ stood, it must be borne in mind that good and bad are only relative terms, so that one and the same thing may be sa id to be good or bad in different respects, j ust l ike the terms perfect and imperfect. Nothing, when regarded in its own nature, can be called perfect or imperfect, especially when we realise that all things that come into being do so in accordance with an eternal order and Nature's fixed laws.

But human weakness fuils to comprehend that order in its thought, and mean- 1 3 while man conceives a human nature much stronger than his own, and sees n o reason why he cannot acquire such a nature. Thus h e i s urged t o seek the means that will bring h im to such a perfection, and all that can be the means of h is at­ taining this objective is called a true good, while the supreme good is to arrive at

b ThiS I S t o be demonstrated a t greater length.

6 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

the en joyment of such a natu re, together with other individuals, if possible. What that nature is we shall show in its proper place; namely, the knowledge of the union which the mind has with the whole of Nature.C

14 This, then, is the end for which I strive, to acquire the nature I have described and to endeavour that many should acquire it along with me. That is to say, my own happiness involves my making an effort to persuade many others to th ink as I do, so that their understanding and their desire should en tirely accord with my understanding and my desire. To bring this about, it is necessary<! ( I ) to under­ stand as much about Nature as suffices for acquiring such a nature, and (2) to es­ tablish such a social order as will enable as many as possible to reach this goal

15 with the greatest possible ease and assurance. Furthermore, (3) attention must be paid to moral philosophy and l ikewise the theory of the education of children ; and since health is of no l ittle importance in attaining this end, (4) the whole sci­ ence of medicine must be elaborated. And since many difficult tasks are rendered easy by contrivance, and we can thereby gain much time and convenience in our daily l ives, (5) the science of mechanics is in no way to be despised.

16 But our first consideration must be to devise a method of emending the intel- lect and of purifying it, as far as is feasible at the outset, so that it may succeed in understanding things without error and as well as possible. So now it will be evi­ dent to everyone that my purpose is to direct all the sciences to one end and goal: to wit (as we have said), the achievement of the h ighest human perfection. Thus everything in the sciences which does nothing to advance us towards our goal must be rejected as poin Uess- in short, all our activities and likewise our thoughts must be directed to th is end.

1 7 But since we have to continue with our l ives while pursuing this end and en- deavouring to bring down the intellect into the right path, our first priority must be to lay down certain rules for l iving, as being good rules. They are as follows:

I . To speak to the understanding of the multitude and to engage in all those activities that do not h inder the attainment of our aim. For we can gain no l i ttle advantage from the mul titude, provided that we accommodate our­ selves as far as possible to their level of understanding. Furthermore, in this way they will give a more favourable hearing to the truth .

2 . To enjoy pleasures j ust so far as suffices to preserve health. 3 . Finally, to seek as much money or any other goods as are sufficient for sus­

taining life and health and for conforming with those social customs that do not conflict with our aim.

18 Having laid down these rules, I shall embark upon the first and most important task, emending the intellect and rendering it apt for the understanding of things

c ThIS is explained more fully In Its proper place.

d Note that here I am only concerned to enumerate the SCiences necessary to our purpose, Without regard to their order .

., In the sciences there IS only one end, to which all rrrust be directed.

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

in a manner appropriate to the achievement of our purpose. To this end our nat­ ural order of exposition requires that I should here recapitulate all the modes of perceiving which I have hitherto employed in confidently affirming or denying something, so that I may select the best of all, and at the same time begin to know my powers and the nature which I desire to perfect.

If [ examine them carefully, they can all be classified under four headings. 19

I . There is the perception we have from hearsay, or from some sign conven­ tionally agreed upon.

2 . There is the perception we have from casual experience; that is, experience that is not determined by intellect, but is so called because it chances thus to occur, and we have experienced nothing else that contradicts it, so that it remains in our minds unchallenged.

3. There is the perception we have when the essence of a th ing is inferred from another thing, but not adequately. This happens either when we infer a cause from some effect' or when an inference is made from some universal which is always accompanied by some property.

4. Finally, there is the perception we have when a th ing is perceived through its essence alone, or through knowledge of its proximate cause.

All these I shall illustrate with examples. By hearsay alone I know the date of my 20 birth, who my parents were, and things of that sort, which I have never doubted. By casual experience I know that I shall die; th is I affirm because I have seen that others l ike me have died, although they have not all lived to the same age nor have they died from the same disease. Again, by casual experience I know that oil has the property of feeding fire, and water of extinguishing it. I know too that a dog is a barking animal and man a rational animal. And it is in this way that I know al­ most everything that is of practical use in life.

We deduce one thing from another as follows. When we clearly perceive that 2 1 we sense such-and-such a body and no other, then from th is, I say, we clearly infer that the soul is united to the body,- a union wh ich is the cause of such-and­ such a sensation. But from thish we cannot positively understand what is that sen­ sation and union. Or, after I have come to know the natu re of vision and realise that it has the property of making us see one and the same thing as smaller at a

f In such a case, we understand nothtng about the cause except what we consider ID the effect. This IS sufficiently evident from the fact that the cause IS then explamed only In very general terms: e.g., Therefore there IS sometlung; therefore there IS some power: etc. Or agam from the fact that the cause is expressed negatively- 'Therefore there IS not thIS, Of that; etc In the second case something clearly concetved IS ascnbed to the cause by reason of the effect, as we shall show by an example. But It IS only the properties, not the particular essence of the thing.

g From this example one can clearly see what I have Just noted. For by thts umon we understand noth­ mg beyond the sensation Itself; that is, the effect from which we inferred a cause of which we have no understanding.

h Such a conclusion, although It be certain, IS not to be relied on Without great caution; for unless we take great care, we shall Immediately fall mto error. When thmgs are conceived In thiS abstract way

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

distance than if we were to see it near at hand, we infer that the sun is bigger than it appears, and other similar instances.

22 Finally, a th ing is perceived through its essence alone when, from the fact that I know someth ing, I know what it is to know someth ing; or, from the fact that I know the essence of the soul, I know that it is united to the body. By the same kind of knowledge we know that two and three are five, and that if two l ines are paral­ lel to a th ird l ine, they are parallel to one another, and so on. But the thing. that I have hitherto been able to know by this kind of knowledge have been very few.

23 For the better understanding of all this, I shall make use of a single example, as follows. Three numbers are given; a fourth number is required, which is to the third as the second to the first. Here tradesmen generally tell us that they know what to do to find the fourth number, for they have not forgotten the procedure which they merely learned without proof from their teachers. Others formulate a universal axiom from their experience with s imple numbers when the fourth number is self-evident, as in the case of the numbers 2, 4, 3 , 6. Here they find that when the second is multipl ied by the third and the product is divided by the first, the answer is 6. Seeing that the same number is produced which they knew to be the proportional number without going through the procedure, they conclude that th is procedure is always a good way to find the fourth proportional . But math-

24 ematicians, because of the force of the demonstration of Proposition 19 of Book 7 of Euclid, know what numbers are proportional to one another from the nature and property of proportion, wh ich tells us that the product of the first and fourth numbers is equal to the product of the second and third. However, they do not see the adequate proportional ity of the given numbers, and if they do see it, they see it not by the force of that proposition but intuitively, without going through any procedure.

25 To choose from these the best mode of perceiving, we should briefly enumer- ate the means necessary to attain our end, as follows:

I . To have an exact knowledge of our nature which we wish to perfect, and at the same time to know as much of the nature of thing. as is necessary.

2 . Therefrom to infer correctly the differences, agreements and oppositions of th ing..

3 . To conceive arigh t the extent to which thing. can, and cannot, be acted upon.

4. To compare this result with the nature and power of man.

From this the highest degree of perfection that man can attain will readily be made manifest.

and not through their true essence, they are at once confused by the lmagmatlon. For to the thmgs that they conceive abstractly, separately, and confusedly, men apply terms which they use to Slglllfy other more farruhar thmgs. Consequently, they lmagme the former thmgs In the same way as they are wont to unagme the thmgs to which they ongmally applied these terms

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 9

With these considerations in mind, let us see which mode of perceiving we 26 ought to choose.

As to the first mode, i t is self-evident that from hearsay, besides the consider­ able degree of uncertainty therein, we perceive nothing of the essence of the thing, as our example makes clear. And since a thing's individual existence is not known unless its essence is known (as will later be seen), we can clearly infer from this that any degree of certainty that we have from hearsay must be excluded from the sciences. For no one can ever be affected by mere hearsay unless his own un­ derstanding has already preceded it.

As to the second mode, aga in' it cannot be said to contain the idea of the pro- 27 portion which it seeks. Besides its considerable uncerta inty and indefiniteness, no one wil l in this way perceive anything in natural things except their accidents, which are never clearly understood unless their essences are first known. Hence this mode, too, must be excluded.

As for the third mode, we can in some sense say that we have the idea of the 28 thing, and also that we can make inferences without danger of error. Yet it is not in itself the means of our acqu iring our perfection.

Only the fourth mode comprehends the adequate essence of the thing, and is 29 without danger of error. So this is the one we must chiefly adopt. Therefore we shall proceed to explain how it is to be employed, so that we may understand by this kind of knowledge what is unknown, and also may do this as directly as pos­ sible. That is, now that we know what kind of knowledge is necessary for us, we 30 must describe the way and method by which we may come to know by this kind of knowledge the things that are needful to be known.

To th is end, the first point to consider is that th is is not a case of an enquiry extending to infinity. That is, to find the best method of seeking the truth, there is no need of another method for seeking the method of seeking the truth, and there is no need of a th ird method to seek the second method, and so on to in­ finity. For in that way we should never arrive at knowledge of the truth, or indeed at any knowledge. The case is analogous to that of material tools, where the same kind of argument could be employed. To work iron, a hammer is needed, and to have a hammer, it must be made. For th is purpose there is need of another ham­ mer and other tools, and again to get these there is need of other tools, and so on to infinity. In this way one might try to prove, in va in, that men have no power to work iron.

But the fact is that at first, with the tools they were born with, men succeeded, 31 however laboriously and imperfectly, in making some very simple things; and when these were made they made other more complex things with less labour and greater perfection; and thus advancing gradually from the simplest works to the making of tools, and from tools to other works and other tools, they have reached a poin t where they can make very many complex things with l ittle labour. In just

L Here I shall diSCUSS experience at some greater length, and exarrune the method of proceedmg of EmpmclSts and the new philosophers.

10 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

the same way the intellect by its inborn power' makes intellectual tools for itself by which it acquires other powers for other intellectual works: and from these works still other tools-or capacity for further investigation -and thus makes steady progress until it reaches the summit of wisdom.

32 That this is the case with the intellect will readily be seen, provided we un- derstand what is the method of seeking truth, and what are those innate tools which are all the intellect needs for making other tools from them so as to progress further. To demonstrate this I proceed as follows.

33 A true ideal (for we do have a true idea) is someth ing different from its object (ideatum). A circle is one thing, the idea of a circle another. For the idea of a cir­ cle is not something having a circumference and a centre, as is a circle, nor is the idea of a body itself a body. And since it is something different from its ob­ ject, it will also be someth ing intell igible through itself. That is, in respect of its formal essence the idea can be the object of another objective essence, which in turn , regarded in itself, wil l also be something real and intelligible, and so on in­ definitely.

34 For example, Peter is someth ing real. Now the true idea of Peter is the objec- tive essence of Peter and is in itself someth ing real , something entirely different from Peter. So since the idea of Peter is something real, having its own individual essence, it will also be something intelligible, that is, the object of another idea which has in itself objectively everything that the idea of Peter has formally. And in turn the idea of the idea of Peter aga in has its own essence, which can also be the object of another idea, and so on without end. This anyone can experience for h imself when he realises that he knows what Peter is, and also that he knows that he knows, and again that he knows that he knows that he knows, and so on. From this it is evident that, to understand the essence of Peter, it is not necessary to understand the idea of Peter, and far less the idea of Peter. This is no more than to say that, in order to know, I need not know that I know, and far less do I need to know that I know that I know. It is no more necessary than, in order to under­ stand the essence of a triangle, one needs to understand the essence of a triangle, one needs to understand the essence'" of a circle. Indeed, in the case of these ideas it is the other way round; for in order to know that I know, it is necessary that I must first know.

35 Hence it is evident that certainty is nothing else than the objective essence it- self; that is to say, the way in which we become aware of the formal essence is cer­ ta inty itself. And from this again it is evident that for the certa inty of truth no other

J By mborn power I mean that whICh IS not caused I n us by external causes, as I shall later explam In my Philosophy

k Here they are called works. I n my Phtlosophy, I shall explam what they are. I Note that here we shall endeavour to demonstrate not only what has Just been said. but also the

correctness of our procedure so far, and hkewtse other pOints of pnmary Importance

m Note that we are not here inqumng as to how the first objective essence IS innate m us For that tOpiC belongs to the investigation of Nature, where these matters are dealt with more fully and where we also demonstrate that there IS no affirmation Of negation or act of Will apart from the Idea

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect I I

sign is needed but to have a true idea. For, as we have shown, i n order to know, there is no need for me to know that I know. From this, again, it is clear that no one can know what the h ighest certainty is unless he has an adequate idea or the objective essence of some thing. For certa inty and objective essence are the same.

Since truth, then, needs no sign , and to have the objective essences of th ings, 36 or-which is the same thing- their ideas, is enough to remove all doubt, it fol­ lows that the true method does not consist in seeking a sign of truth after acquir- ing ideas; the true method is the path whereby truth itself, or the objective essences of th ings, or ideas (all these mean the same) is to be sought" in proper order.

Again, method must necessarily be discourse about reasoning or intellection. 37 That is, method is not reasoning itself which leads to the understanding of the causes of thing., and far less is it the understanding of the causes of things. It is the understanding of what is a true idea, distinguishing it from other kinds of per­ ception and examining its nature, so that we may thereby come to know our power of understanding and may so tra in the mind that it will understand according to that standard all that needs to be understood, laying down definite rules as a ids, and also ensuring that the mind does not waste its energy on useless pursui ts.

From this we may conclude that method is noth ing but reflexive knowledge, 38 or the idea of an idea; and because there is no idea of an idea unless there is first an idea, there will be no method unless there is first an idea. So a good method will be one which shows how the mind is to be directed according to the standard of a given true idea. Again, since the relation between two ideas is the same as the relation between the formal essences of those ideas, it follows that the reflexive knowledge of the idea of the most perfect Being will be more excellent than the reflexive knowledge of other ideas. That is, the most perfect method will be one which shows how the mind should be directed according to the standard ofa given idea of the most perfect Being.

From this one can readily understand how the mind, as it understands more 39 things, at the same time acquires other tools which fucil itate its further under­ standing. For, as may be gathered from what has been sa id, there must first of all exist in us a true idea as an innate tool, and together with the understanding of this idea there would l ikewise be an understanding of the difference between this perception and all other perceptions. Herein consists one part of our method. And since it is self-evident that the more the mind understands of Nature, the better it understands itself, it clearly follows that this part of our method will become that much more perfect as the mind understands more thing., and will become then most perfect when the mind attends to, or reflects upon, the knowledge of the most perfect Being.

Then again, the more thing. the mind knows, the better i t understands both 40 its own powers and the order of Nature. Now the better it understands its own powers, the more easily it can direct itself and lay down rules for its own guidance; and the better it understands the order of Nature, the more easily it can restrain

n The nature of tius seekmg I n the soui ls explained In my Philosophy

12 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

itself from useless pursu its. And it is in this, as we have said, that the whole of our method consists.

41 Moreover, an idea is situated in the context of thought exactly as is its object in the context of real ity. Therefore, if there were something in Nature having no interrelation with other things, and if there were also granted its objective essence (which must agree entirely with its formal essence), then this idea l ikewise would have no interrelation° with other ideas; that is, we could make no inference re­ garding it. On the other hand, those things that do have interrelation with other things-as is the case with everything that exists in Nature-will be intell igible, and their objective essences will also have that same interrelation; that is, other ideas will be deduced from them, and these in turn will be interrelated with other ideas, and so the tools for further progress will increase. This is what we were en­ deavouring to demonstrate.

42 Furthermore, from the point j ust mentioned - that the idea must entirely agree with its formal essence- it is again evident that, for the human mind to reproduce a faithful image of Nature, it must draw all its ideas from that idea which repre­ sents the source and origin of the whole of Nature, so that th is may l ikewise be­ come the source of other ideas.

43 Here it may seem surprising that, having said that the good method is one which demonstrates how the mind is to be directed according to the standard of a given true idea, I resort to reasoning to prove this poin� which appears to indi­ cate that it is not self-evident. So the question can be raised as to whether our rea­ soning is sound. If our reasoning is sound, we have to begin from a given idea, and since to begin from a given idea is something that needs proving, we ought again to prove the validity of our reasoning, and then again the validity of that rea­ soning, and so on ad infinitum.

44 To this I reply that if anyone in h is investigation of Nature had by some chance advanced in this way- that is, by acquiring other ideas in proper order according to the standard of a given true idea- he would never have doubtedp his own truth (inasmuch as truth, as we have said, reveals its own self), and all would have pro­ gressed smoothly for h im . But since this rarely or never happens, I have been con­ stra ined to posit those guidel ines, so that what we cannot acquire by chance, we may yet acquire by deliberate planning, and also in order to make it clear that, for the val idation of truth and sound reasoning, we need no other instruments than truth and sound reasoning. For it is by sound reasoning that I have validated sound

45 reasoning, and still continue so to do. Furthermore, it is this way of thinking that men usually adopt in their own internal meditations.

That the proper order is rarely employed in the investigation of Nature is due to prejudices whose causes I shall later explain in my Ph ilosophy. A further rea­ son, as I shall later show, is the need for a considerable capacity to make accurate distinctions, a very laborious task. And finally, there is the matter of the human

o To be tnterrelated With other thmgs IS to produce, or be produced by, other things.

P Just as here, too, we do not doubt our truth

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 1 3

condition, which, a s has al ready been shown, i s h ighly unstable. There are yet other reasons, which we shall not pursue.

If anyone perchance should ask why at the very outset I adopted that arrange- 46 ment in demonstrating the truths of Nature-for does not truth reveal its own self?-I reply by urging him not to reject these things as false because of paradoxes which will occasionally occur here and there. Let him first please to consider the arrangement of our demonstration, and he will then be convinced that we have arrived at the truth. This explains the reason why I began as I did.

But if after this there is some sceptic who still entertains doubt both as to the 47 first truth itself and all the deductions we shall make according to the standard of the first truth, then surely either he is speaking contrary to his own consciousness or else we shall have to declare that there are men whose minds are also bl inded either from birth or by reason of their prejudices, that is, through some accident that has befallen them. For they are not even aware of their own selves. If they af- firm or doubt someth ing, they do not know that they are doubting or affirming. They say that they know nothing, and they say that they are ignorant of this very fact of knowing nothing. And they do not even say this without qualification ; for they are afraid that, in saying they know nothing, they are declaring that they ex- ist, so that in the end they have to maintain silence lest they should perchance say something that has the savour of truth.

Finally, although in matters relating to the usages of l ife and society necessity 48 has compelled them to suppose their existence, to seek their own good and fre­ quently to affirm and deny things on oath, it is quite impossible to discuss the sci­ ences with them. If a proof is presented to them, they do not know whether the argumentation is valid or not. If they deny, grant or oppose, they do not know that they deny, grant or oppose. So they must be regarded as automata, completely lacking in mind.

Let us now return to our theme. Up to the present, we have in the first place 49 establ ished the end to which we strive to direct all our thoughts. Second, we have learned which is the best mode of perception that will help us to attain our per­ fection. Third, we have learned which is the path our mind should first take in order to make a good beginning, and that is, to proceed to its enqu iry by fixed rules, taking as its standard some given true idea. To do this correctly, our method must enable us, fi rst, to distinguish a true idea from all other perceptions and to restrain the mind from those other perceptions; second, to lay down rules for per­ ceiving things unknown according to the aforementioned standard; th ird, to es­ tablish an orderly procedure which will enable us to avoid useless toil. Having discovered this method, we real ised, fourthly, that th is method would be most perfect when we possessed the idea of a most perfect Being. So at the outset th is must be our chief objective, to arrive at the knowledge of such a Being as speed- ily as possible.

Let us then make a beginning with the first part of the method, which is, as we 50 have sa id, to distinguish and separate the true idea from other perceptions, and to keep the mind from confusing false, fictitious, and doubtful ideas with true ideas. Here I intend to dwell on this subject at some length so as to engage my readers

14 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

in the study of so important a topic, and also because there are many who, failing to attend to the distinction between a tme perception and all other perceptions, have come to doubt even their true perceptions. Their condition is l ike that of men who, when they were awake, did not doubt that they were awake, but having once in their dreams-as is often the case-felt certa in that they were wide awake and later found this to be untrue, doubted even their waking experiences. Th is comes about because they have never distinguished between dreaming and being awake.

5 1 But I must first warn the reader that I shall not here be discussing the essence of every perception, explaining it through its proximate cause, for th is pertains to Philosophy. I shall confine myself to discussing what the method demands; that is, what are the circumstances with which the fictitious, the false, and the doubt­ ful perception are concerned, and how we may be delivered from each of them. Let our first inquiry, then, deal with the fictitious idea.

52 Every perception has for its object either a th ing considered as existing or solely the essence of a th ing. Now since in most cases fictions are concerned with thing. considered as existing, I shall deal first with that situation - that is, where the ex­ istence of some action is the sole object of the fiction, and the thing which is sup­ posed to be so acting is comprehensible by intellect, or is posited as such. For example, I make up the idea that Peter, whom I well know, is on h is way home, is coming to visit me, or the l ike. q Here I ask, with what is such an idea concerned? I see that it is concerned only with what is possible, not with what is necessary, nor with what is impossible.

53 I call a th ing impossible if its nature impl ies that it would be a contradiction for it to exist; necessary, if its nature impl ies that it would be a contradiction for it not to exist; and possible, if, by its very nature, neither its existence nor its nonex­ istence impl ies a contradiction, the necessity or impossibil ity of its existence being dependent on causes which are unknown to us while we are assuming its existence. So if its necessity or impossibil ity, which are dependent on external causes, were known to us, i t could not then be for us the subject of any fiction.

54 Hence i t follows that if there is a God, or some omniscient being, such a be- ing cannot engage in any fiction. For in our own case, knowing as I do that I ex­ ist,' my existence or nonexistence cannot be a matter of fiction for me; nor again can I engage in the fiction of an elephant that can pass through the eye of a nee­ dle; nor, knowing the nature of God,' can his existence or nonexistence be a mat-

q See later on what we shall have to say about hypotheses These are clearly understood by us, but the flchon COnsiSts in our saymg that the hypotheses are actually true of the heavenly bodies

r Since a thmg, when once i t IS understood, manifests Itself, we need only an example Without fur­ ther proof. The same IS true of Its contradictory, which needs only to be examined to expose its fal­ sity, as will later become clear when we shall be dISCussing the fichon that concerns essence.

S Note that, although many may say that they doubt the eXistence of God, they have m rrund noth­ Ing but a word, or some fictitious Idea they call God This does not accord With the nature of God, as I shall later demonstrate In Its proper place

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 1 5

ter of fiction for me. The same appl ies to the Chimera, whose nature implies its nonexistence. From this it is evident, as I have said, that eternal truths do not al­ low of the fiction of which we are here speaking '

But before proceeding further, I must first observe in passing that the differ- 55 ence between the essence of one thing and the essence of another th ing is the same as that which holds between the actual ity or existence of the one thing and the actuality or existence of the other. So if we were to conceive the existence of Adam, for example, under the general category of existence, this would be the same as if1 to conceive his essence, we were to focus our attention on the nature of being, so that we end up by defining Adam as a being. Thus the more gener- ally existence is conceived, the more confusedly it is conceived and the more read- ily it can be ascribed to any one th ing. Conversely, the more singularly existence is conceived, the more clearly i t is then understood, and the less l ikely we are to ascribe it (when we are not attending to the order of Nature) to anything other than the thing itself. This is worth noting.

We must now proceed to consider those cases which are loosely called fictions 56 in common parlance even though we clearly understand that the reality is not as we feign it to be. For example, although I know that the earth is round, nothing prevents my saying to somebody that the earth is a hemisphere, l ike half an or­ ange on a plate, or saying that the sun moves round the earth, and the l ike. If we consider these cases, we shall find nothing that is not consistent with what we have already said, provided that we note that, first, we have occaSionally fallen into er- rors of which we are now conscious; and second, that we can entertain the ficti­ tious idea, or at least the thought, that others have fallen into the same error, or may so do, as we once did. This fiction, I say, is feas ible for us as long as we see no impossibil ity and no necessity therein . So when I say to somebody that the earth is not round, and the like, I do no more than to recall to mind an error which I perchance have made, or into which I might have fallen, and thereafter I feign , or think, that the person to whom I tell th is is as yet a victim of this same error or is capable of falling into i t . As I have said, I can engage in this fiction only as long as I see that no impossibil ity and no necessity l ies therein . For had I understood this to be so, there would have been no room whatsoever for fiction, and it would have to be said that I had done no more than utter words.

I t remains for us now furthermore to consider the kind of suppositions that are 57 made in connection with problems: for these, too, not infrequently involve im­ possibil ities. For example, we may say, "Let us suppose that this burning candle is not now burning," or "Let us suppose that it is burning in some imaginary space where there are no bodies." Such suppositions are qui te commonly made, al­ though the latter example is obviously understood to be impossible. But in such

I r shall also presently demonstrate that eternal truths do not admit of fichon of any kind. By an eter­ nal truth I mean one WhiCh, if it IS affIrmatIve, Will never be able to be negative. Thus It IS a first and eternal truth that 'God IS: but that 'Adam thmks' IS not an eternal truth That 'there is no Chimera' IS an eternal truth, but not that 'Adam does not thtnk '

16 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

cases there is no question of fiction. In the first case I have done no more than re­ call to memory" another candle which was not burning (or I have conceived this candle without a flame), and my thoughts of the latter candle I now transfer to the former, dismissing the flame from my mind. In the second case I merely with­ draw my thoughts from the surrounding bodies so that the mind concentrates its atten tion on the candle alone, regarded in itself. This leads to the conclusion that the candle contains in itself no cause for its own destruction , so that, if there were no surrounding bodies, this candle and l ikewise its flame would remain im­ mutable, or some such conclusion. Here, then , there is no question of fiction; there are really mere assertions,v and no more.

58 Let us now pass on to those fictions which are concerned either with essences alone or with essences combined with some actuality or existence. With regard to these it must especially be noted that, the less the mind understands while yet perceiving more things, the greater its capacity to form fictions; and the more it understands, the less its capacity to form fictions. For example, j ust as we saw above that while we are actually thinking, it cannot be for us a fictional idea that we are th inking or not th inking, so too, when we have come to know the nature of body, we cannot entertain the idea of an infinite fly; or when we have come to know the nature of the soul,w we cannot entertain the idea that it is square­ though anything can be put into words. But as we have sa id, the less men know of Nature, the more easily they can fash ion numerous fictitious ideas, as that trees speak, that men can change instantaneously into stones or springs, that ghosts ap­ pear in mirrors, that something can come from nothing, even that gods can change into beasts or men, and any number of such fantasies.

59 Someone may perhaps think that the l imits of fiction are set by fiction, not by intellection . That is, when I have formed a fictitious idea and then, by some sort of freedom, assented to its existence in reality, th is has the consequence that I can­ not thereafter th ink it in any other way. For instance, when I have engaged in the fiction (to speak as they do) that body has a certain natu re, and of my own free

U Later, when we shall be speakmg of flchons concernmg essences, It will be mantfest that flchon never Invents or presents to the mmd anythmg new, It recalls to mmd only thmgs that are In the brain or the imagmahon, and the mind attends to all these together In a confused way For exam­ ple, the uttering of words and a tree are recalled to memory, and when the mind attends to them In a confused way Without dIStinction, it forms the nohon of a tree speaktng. The same applies to ex­ IStence, especially when, as we have said, It IS conceived lD a very general way as entity. for It IS then liable to be attached to all things that occur together to memory TIllS IS a very important pOint

v ThIS IS also the case With hypotheses which are fonned to explain the regular movements which ac­ cord With celestial phenomena, except that, If the hypotheses are actually applied to the celestial movement, an Inference IS drawn as to the nature of the heavens, which may nevertheless he qUIte different. For one may conceive many other causes to explam these movements.

w It often happens that a man recalls to mind this term 'soul' and at the same time forms some rna­ tenal Image. Now when these two thtngs are presented together in hiS mind, he is prone to think that he Imagines and forms the idea of a matenal soul, fading to distingUIsh between word and re­ ahty. H ere r ask my readers not to be too hasty to refute what I have said, which I hope they wtll re­ frain from domg provided that they pay close attention to the examples, and also to what follows.

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 1 7

will i convince myself that this i s so in reality, I can no longer enterta in the idea, say, of an infinite fly; and when I have formed an idea of the essence of the soul, I can no longer conceive i t as square, and so forth.

But th is view must be examined. Firs� either they deny or they grant that we 60 have the capacity to understand someth ing. If they grant th is, then it must follow that what they say about fiction also appl ies to intellection. If they deny i t, then let us, who know that we know something, consider what they are saying. They are in fact saying that the soul can be conscious of and perceive, in a variety of ways, not its own self nor things that exist, but only things that are neither in them­ selves nor anywhere at all; that is, the soul can by its unaided power create sensa­ tions or ideas which are not ideas of th ings. So to some extent they are l ikening the soul to God. Further, they are saying that we, or our soul, possess a freedom of such a kind that i t can constrain our own selves, or the soul's self-nay, i t can constrain its own freedom. For after it has formed some fictitious idea and given assent thereto, it cannot th ink it or fash ion i t in any other way, and is even com­ pelled by that fictitious idea to form all its other thoughts so as not to conflict with the original fiction- just as here, too, their own fictitious idea compels them to allow the absurdities which I am here reviewing. We shall waste no time on demonstrations to refute th is nonsense.

But leaving them to their delusions, we shall endeavour to draw from our dis- 61 cussion with them something true and to our purpose, namely, that when the mind attends to a thing that is both fictitious and false by its very nature, so as to ponder over it and achieve understanding, and then deduces from it in proper or- der what is to be deduced, it will easily detect its falsity;x and if the fictitious idea is by its own nature true, when the mind attends to it so as to understand i t, and begins to deduce from it in proper order the conclusions that follow from it, it will proceed smoothly without any interruption - just as we have seen that, in the case of the false fiction just mentioned, the intellect immediately appl ied itself to ex­ posing its absurdity and the absurdities that follow from it.

We need thereIore be in no way apprehensive about engaging in fiction pro- 62 vided that we clearly and distinctly perceive what is really the case. If we were per­ chance to say that men are suddenly changed into beasts, this is a statement of a very general kind, such that there would be in the mind no conception, that is, no idea or connection of subject with predicate. For if there were such, the mind would at that time see the means and causes, the 'how' and the 'why' such a thing took place. Then again, no attention is given to the nature of the subject and predicate.

Furthermore, provided that the first idea is not fictitious and all the other ideas 63 are deduced from i t, the hasty tendency to form fictitious ideas will gradually dis-

x Although I seem to lOfer this from expenence, and someone may deny Its cogency because no proof IS attached, he may take thiS If he wants one. Stnce there can be nothmg to Nature contrary to her laws and all thmgs happen m accordance With her fixed laws, so that defmite effects are produced by deftnlte laws in unalterable sequence, It follows that when the soul concelves a thmg truly, It Will proceed to produce In thought those same effects. See below, where I dISCUSS the false Idea.

18 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

appear. Then again, since a fictitious idea cannot be clear and distinct but only confused, and since all confusion arises from mind's having only partial knowl­ edge of a complete whole or a unity composed of many constituents-failing to distinguish between the known and the unknown, and also attending at the same time without any distinction to the many constituen ts contained in a single th ing- it follows, first, that if the idea is of a th ing completely simple, it can only be clear and distinct. For such a th ing would have to be known not in part, but

64 either wholly or not at all. Secondly, it follows that if a th ing composed of many constituents is divided in thought into all its simplest parts, and attention is given to each part separately, then all confusion will disappear. Thirdly, it follows that a fictitious idea cannot be simple, but is formed by the blending of various con­ fused ideas of various things and actions existing in Nature; or, as better expressed, fiction results from attending at the same time, without assent, to various ideas of this kindX For if fiction were simple, it would be clear and distinct, and conse­ quently true. And if it were formed from the blending of distinct ideas, their com­ position would also be clear and distinct, and therefore true. For example, once we know the nature of a circle and also that of a square, we cannot compound the two and make a square circle, or a square soul and the l ike.

65 Let us then once more sum up briefly and see why we need in no way fear that fiction may be confused with true ideas. For as to the first case we mentioned ear­ l ier, i .e . , when a th ing is clearly conceived, we saw that if the th ing which is clearly conceived, and also its existence, is in itself an eternal truth, we cannot engage in any fiction regarding such a thing. But if the existence of the th ing conceived is not an eternal truth, we need only to ensure that the existence of the th ing is com­ pared with its essence, while at the same time attending to the order of Nature. As to the second case of fiction, which we said to consist in attending simultane­ ously, without assenting, to various confused ideas of various things and actions existing in Nature, we again saw that a completely simple thing cannot be the ob­ ject of fiction, but only of intellect. And the same is true of a composite thing pro­ vided we attend to its s implest component parts. Indeed, these things cannot be the subject of fiction involving any actions that are not true, for at the same time we shall be compelled to consider how and why such a th ing came about.

66 With these matters thus understood, let us now pass on to the investigation of the false idea so as to see with what it is concerned, and how we may guard our­ selves against fall ing into false perceptions. Neither of these objectives will now afford us any difficulty after our investigation of the fictitious idea. For between these ideas there is no difference except that the false idea impl ies assent, that is (as we have already noted) . while the ideas are presented to the mind, there are no causes presented from which it can infer (as in the case of fiction) that they do not arise from things extraneous. It is practically the sarne as dreaming with one's

Y Fichon, considered In dself, does not rrruch differ from dreammg, except that those causes which their senses present to the waktng, from which they infer that those presentations are not presented at that time by thmgs external to them, are not presented In dreammg Now error, as Will soon be mamfest, is dreannng whtle awake, and If it reaches a certain pitch, It is called madness

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 1 9

eyes open or while wide awake. Therefore the false idea i s l ike the fictitious idea in that it is concerned with, or (as better expressed) has reference to, the existence of a thing whose essence is known, or it is concerned with an essence.

The false idea that has reference to existence is ernended in the same way as the 67 fictitious idea. For if the nature of the known thing impl ies necessary existence, we cannot possibly be deceived regarding the existence of that thing. If the existence of the thing is not an eternal truth (as is its essence) and the necessity or impossi­ bil ity of its existence depends on external causes, then follow the same course which we indicated in our discussion of fiction, for it can be emended in the same way.

As for the kind of false idea that is related to essences, and also to actions, such 68 perceptions are necessarily always confused, being compounded of various con­ fused perceptions of things existing in Nature, as when men are convinced that divinities are present in woods, in images, in animals and other th ings, that there are bodies whose mere composition gives rise to intell igence, that corpses can rea- son, walk and speak, that God can be deceived, and the l ike. But ideas which are clear and distinct can never be false; for ideas of things which are clearly and dis­ tinctly conceived either are absolutely simple or are compounded of absolutely simple ideas- that is, deduced from absolutely simple ideas. But that an ab­ solutely simple idea cannot be false is obvious to everyone, provided that he knows what is truth or understanding, and l ikewise what is falsity.

As to what constitutes the specific charncter of truth, it is certa in that a true 69 thought is distingUishable from a false thought not merely by its extrinsic relation but more particularly by an intrinsic characteristic. If an architect conceives a building in proper fashion, although such a building has never existed nor is ever l ikely to exist, h is thought is nevertheless a true thought, and the thought is the same whether the building exists or not. On the other hand, if someone says, for example, that Peter exists, while yet not knowing that Peter exists, that thought in respect to the speaker is false, or , if you prefer, not true, although Peter really ex- ists. The statement 'Peter exists' is true only in respect of one who knows for cer- tain that Peter exists.

Hence it follows that there is something real in ideas through which the true 70 are d istinguished from the false, and this must now be the subject of our inquiry so that we may possess the best standard of truth (for we have said that we ought to determine our thoughts according to the standard of a given true idea, and method consists in reflexive knowledge) and may get to know the properties of the intellect. N or must we say that the difference between true and false ideas derives from the fact that a true thought is to know things through their first causes­ wherein it would indeed be very different from a false thought as we have ex­ plained it above. For a thought is also said to be true when it involves as its object the essence of some basic principle which is uncaused and is known through it- self and in itself.

Therefore the specific character of a true thought must be in trinsic to the 71 thought itself without reference to other thoughts. Nor does it acknowledge its ob- ject as cause, but must depend on the very power and nature of the intellect. For let us suppose that the intellect has perceived some new entity which has never

20 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

existed, as some conceive the intellect of God before he created things (a per­ ception which obviously could not have arisen from any object) , and that from such a perception it deduces other perceptions in logical order. All those thoughts would be true and would not be determined by any external object, but would de­ pend entirely on the power and nature of the intellect. Therefore that which con­ stitutes the specific character of a true thought must be sought in that very same thought and deduced from the nature of in tellect.

72 So to investigate this question, let us set before us a true idea whose object we are absolutely certain depends on our power of thought, there being no object to it in Nature; for such an idea, as is clear from what has been said, will more eas­ ily enable us to pursue the enquiry we have in view. For example, to form the con­ cept of a sphere, I invent a cause at will, namely, that a semicircle rotates about its centre, and a sphere, as i t were, is produced by this rotation. Now this is, of course, a true idea, and although we know that in Nature no sphere has ever been produced in this way, this is nevertheless a true perception and a very convenient way of forming the concept of a sphere. Now, we should observe that th is per­ ception affirms that a semicircle rotates, an affirmation that would be false were it not conjoined with the concept of a sphere, or else with a cause determining such motion; that is, in short, if this were a completely isolated affirmation . For in that case the mind would not be extending its affirmation to anything beyond the motion of the semicircle, and neither is this contained in the concept of a semicircle nor does it originate from the conception of a cause determining the motion. Therefore the falsity consists solely in this, that something is affirmed of a th ing when i t is not conta ined in the conception we have formed of the thing, as in this case motion or rest is affirmed of the semicircle. Hence it follows that simple thoughts are bound to be true, such as the simple idea of a semicircle, of motion, of quantity, and so on. Whatever of affirmation is contained in these thoughts is coextensive with their concept, and extends no further. Therefore we may form simple ideas at will without any danger of error.

73 It remains, then, only to inquire by what power the mind can form these sim- ple ideas, and what is the extent of this power; for once this is discovered we shall easily see what is the highest knowledge we can attain . It is certa in that this power of the mind does not extend to infinity; for when we affirm of a thing something that is not contained in the concept we form of the thing, this indicates that our perception is defective, or in other words that we have thoughts or ideas that are, as it were, mutilated and fragmentary. For we saw that the motion of the semicir­ cle is false when taken in isolation, but true if it is conjoined with the concept of a sphere, or the concept of some cause determining such motion. Now if it is in the nature of a thinking being, as seems apparently to be the case, to form true or adequate thoughts, it is certain that inadequate ideas arise in us from th is, that we are part of some thinking being, some of whose thoughts constitute our mind in their entirety, and some only in part.

74 But we have yet to consider another case, which was not worth raiSing when deal ing with fiction, and wherein one can go far astray. This happens when cer­ tain things presented in the imagination are also in the intellect, that is, are clearly

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 2 1

and distinctly conceived. For then, when the distinct is not differentiated from the confused, the result is that certainty, i .e . , a true idea, is mixed up with the nondis­ tinct For example, certa in Stoics perhaps heard the word 'soul; and also that it is immortal , which things they imagined only confusedly. They also imagined, and at the same time understood, that the most subtle bodies penetrate all other bod­ ies and are penetrated by none. Since all these things were presented together in the imagination and were accompanied by the certa inty of this axiom, they forth­ with became convinced that the mind consists of those most subtle bodies, that those most subtle bodies cannot be divided, and so on.

But we are delivered from this error, too, as long as we make an effort to ex- 75 amine all our perceptions according to the standard of a given true idea, being on our guard, as we initially said, against those perceptions that we have from hearsay or from casual experience. In addition, this kind of mistake arises from their con­ ceiving things in too abstract a way; for it is sufficiently clear in itself that what I conceive in its true object I cannot apply to any other object. Finally, this mistake also arises from their fuilure to understand the primary elements of Nature as a whole, so that, proceeding without due order and confusing Natu re with abstrac­ tions (although these are true axioms), they fall into confusion and distort the or- der of Nature. However, if we proceed with the least possible abstraction and begin at the earliest stage from the primary elements-that is, from the source and origin of Nature-we need in no way fear this kind of mistake.

As for our knowledge of the origin of Nature, we need have no fear of confus- 76 ing it with abstractions. For when things are conceived in an abstract way (as is the case with all universals), they always have a wider extension in the intellect than is really possessed by their particular exemplifications existing in Nature. Again, since there are many things in Nature whose difference is so slight as to be hardly perceptible to the intellect, it can easily come about that they are confused if they are conceived in an abstract way. But since, as we shall later see, the origin of Nature can neither be conceived in an abstract or universal way, nor can i t have a wider extension in the intellect than in reality, nor has it any resemblance to things mutable, we need fear no confusion as to its idea, provided we possess the standard of truth as before shown. For th is entity is unique and infinite;z that is, it is total being, beyond which there is no being.'

So much for the false idea. It remains for us to enquire into the doubtful idea, 77 that is, to consider what are the things that can lead us to doubt, and also how that dou bt may be removed. I am speaking of genuine doubt in the mind, not the sort of doubt that we frequently encounter when somebody verbally asserts that he doubts, although he mentally does not doubt. The correction of the latter is not the province of our method; rather does it pertain to an enquiry into obstinacy and its emendation.

Z These are not attnbutes of God, dlSplaymg hIS essence, as I shall make clear in my Philosophy. g This has already been demonstrated above. For IS such a bemg did not eXist, It could never be pro..­

duced, and so the mmd could understand more than Nature could furmsh, which has been shown above to be false

22 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

78 Doubt, then, never arises in the soul through the thing itself which is the ob- ject of doubt. That is, if there should be only one idea in our consciousness, whether true or false, there will be neither doubt nor certainty, but only a certain kind of awareness. For an idea in itself is nothing but a certain awareness. Doubt arises through another idea, wh ich is not so clear and distinct that we can infer from it any certainty as to the thing wh ich is doubted . That is, the idea which causes us to doubt is not clear and distinct. For example, if someone has never been led, whether by experience or in any other way, to reflect upon the decep­ tiveness of the senses, he will never entertain doubt as to whether the sun is greater or smaller than it appears. Hence country folk are frequently surprised when they hear that the sun is much greater than the earth's sphere. But reflection on the deceptiveness of the senses induces doubt.b If, after being in doubt, a man ac­ quires true knowledge of the senses and of the manner whereby through their means distant things are represented, then the doubt is in turn removed.

79 Hence it follows that it is only when we do not have a clear and distinct idea of God that we can cast doubt on our true ideas on the grounds of the possible ex­ istence of some deceiving God who misleads us even in thing. most certain. That is, this can happen only if, attending to the knowledge we have of the origin of all things, we find nothing there to convince us that he is not a deceiver, with the same conviction that we have when, attending to the nature of a triangle, we find that its three angles are equal to two right angles. But if we do possess such knowl­ edge of God as we have of a triangle, all doubt is removed. And just as we can at­ tain such knowledge of a triangle although not knowing for sure whether some arch-deceiver is misleading us, so too can we attain such knowledge of God al­ though not knowing for sure whether there is some arch-deceiver. Provided we have that knowledge, it will suffice, as I have said, to remove all doubt that we may have concerning clear and distinct ideas.

80 Furthermore, if anyone follows the correct procedure, investigating first what should be first investigated without any interruption in the interconnection of things, and ifhe knows how to define problems preCisely before seeking to solve them, he will never have anything but the most certain ideas, that is, clear and distinct ideas. For doubt is nothing but the suspension of judgment in respect of some affirmation or denial which would be made but that someth ing comes to mind which, being outside our understanding, must render imperfect our knowl­ edge of the thing in question. We may therefore conclude that doubt always arises from want of order in the investigation.

8l These are the matters which I promised to set forth in this first part of our Method. But to omit nothing that can advance our knowledge of the intellect and its powers, I shall add a few words on memory and forgetting. Here the most im­ portant point to be considered is that memory is strengthened both by the a id of the intellect and also without its aid. As to the first case, the more intelligible a th ing is, the more easily it is reta ined; the less intelligible, the more easily it is for-

b That IS to say, a man knows that the senses have sometimes deCeived hun. but he knows this only confusedly, for he does not know In what way the senses deceive hIm

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 2 3

gotten. For example, if [ give someone a l ist of unconnected words, he will find i t much more difficul t to reta in them than if [ were to give him the same words in the form of a story.

It is also strengthened without the a id of the intellect, namely, through the 82 force wherewith the imagination, or what is termed the common sense, is affected by some singular corporeal thing. [ say 'singular: for the imagination is affected by singular things only. For example, if someone reads just one love story, he will reta in it very well as long as he does not read many others of the same kind, for then it flourishes alone in h is imagination. But ifhe reads several of the same kind, he will imagine them all together, and they will easily be confused. [ say 'corpo­ real: for the imagination is affected only by bodies. Since, then, the memory is strengthened not only by the intellect but also independently of the intellect, we may conclude that it is something different from the intellect, and that the intel- lect considered in itself does not involve either memory or forgetting.

What, then, is memory? It is nothing but the sensation of impressions in the 83 brain together with the thought of the determinate durationc of the sensation . This is further demonstrated by recollection, for in this the soul th inks of that sen­ sation , but without the notion of a continuous duration ; and thus the idea of that sensation is not identical with the duration of the sensation, that is, with memory itself The question as to whether the ideas themselves undergo some corruption will be discussed in my Philosophy.

[f this seems qu ite absurd to anyone, it will be enough for our purpose that he should reflect that, the more s ingular a thing is, the more easily it is reta ined, as is evident from the example of the comedy just mentioned. And again, the more intelligible a thing is, the more easily it is reta ined. Hence we cannot fail to re­ tain a thing that is most singular and suffiCiently intell igible.

Thus we have distinguished between the true idea and other perceptions, and 84 we have established that the fictitious, the false, and other ideas have their origin in the imagination, that is, in certain sensations that are (so to speak) fortu i tous and unconnected, arising not from the power of the mind but from external causes1 in accordance as the body, dreaming or waking, receives various motions. Or if you wish, you may here understand by imagination whatever you please, as long as it is something different from the intellect, and the soul has a passive re­ lation to it. It matters not how you understand it, now that we know that it is some­ thing random, and that the soul is passive to it, while we also know how we may be delivered from it with the aid of the intellect. And so let no one be surprised that, without as yet having proved that there is such a th ing as body and other im­ portant matters, I speak of the imagination, the body, and its constitution. For, as

C But tf the duration is mdeterrnmate, the memory of the thmg is imperfect, as each of us seems also to have learned naturally. For It often happens that, to confirm our belief ID what someone IS telling us, we ask when and where It occurred And although ldeas, too, have their own duration m the mnd. Since we are accustomed to deterrmne duration With the help of some measure of motion which also Involves the Inlagmation, we stdl do not see In memory anythmg whlch appertains solely to the mmd

24 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

I have said, it matters not how I understand it, now that I know that it is something random, and so on.

85 But we have demonstrated that a true idea is simple or compounded of simple ideas, and that it shows how and why someth ing is the case, or has been so, and that its ideal effects in the soul correspond to the specific reality of its object. Th is is iden tical with the saying of the ancien ts that true science proceeds from cause to effect, except that, as far as I know, they never conceived the soul, as we are here dOing, as acting according to fixed laws, a sort of spiritual automaton.

86 From these demonstrations, as far as was possible in the initial stages of our en- quiry, we have acquired knowledge of our intellect, and such a standard of the true idea that we no longer fear we may confuse true ideas with false or fictitious ideas. Nor again will we wonder why we understand some things that do not in any way fall within the scope of the imagination , and why there are in the imag­ ination some things that are completely opposed to the in tellect, while there are other th ings wh ich agree with the intellect. For we know that the operations by which imaginings are produced are subject to other laws which are quite differ­ ent from the laws of the intellect, and that in relation to imagining, the soul has only a passive rille.

87 From this we may also see how easily those who have not made a careful dis- tinction between imagination and intellection may fall into grave errors, such as, for instance, that extension must be local ised, that it must be finite, that its parts are really distinct from one another, that it is the first and only foundation of all things, that it occupies more space at one time than at another, and many other beliefs of this kind, all of which are completely opposed to truth, as we shall demonstrate in its proper place.

88 Then again, since words are a part of the imagination - that is, since many of our concepts are formed according to the haphazard composition of words in memory from some disposition of the body- there can be no doubt that words no less than imagination can bring about many grave errors unless we exercise

89 great caution in that respect. Add to th is that words owe their formation to the whim and understanding of the common people, so that they are merely sym­ bols of th ings as they are in the imagination, not in the intellect. This is evident from the fact that men have often devised negative terms for all those th ings that are only in the intellect and not in the imagination (e.g. , incorporeal, infi­ nite, etc . ) , and they also express negatively many things that are really affirma­ tive, and conversely (e.g. , uncreated, independent, infinite, immortal , etc . } .d The reason for th is is that the contraries of these words are much more easily imagined, and so they occurred first to the early generations, and they used them as posi tive terms.

90 Furthermore, we avoid another frequent cause of confusion, one that prevents the intellect from reflecting on itself; viz. , by fa iling to distinguish between imag-

d We affirm and deny many things because the nature of words, not the nature of things, suffers us to do so, and In our tgnorance of the latter, we may easily take the false to be true.

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 2 5

ination a n d intellection, w e think that the things w e more easily imagine are clearer to us, and we think that we understand what we imagine. Thus we put first what should be pu t later, and so the true order of procedure is reversed and there can be no legitimate conclusion drawn.

To move on in turn to the second part" ofthis Method, I shall first set forth our 91 aim in th is Method, and then the means of attaining it. Our aim, then, is to have clear and distinct ideas, that is, such as originate from pure mind and not from fortuitous motions of the body. Next, so that all ideas may be subsumed under one, we shall endeavour to connect and arrange them in such a manner that our mind, as far as possible, may reproduce in thought the reality of Nature, both as to the whole and as to its parts.

As to the first point, our ul timate aim, as we have already said, requires that a 92 th ing be conceived either through its essence alone or through its proximate cause. That is, if the thing is in itself, or, as is commonly said, self-caused, then it will have to be understood solely through its essence; if the thing is not in itself and needs a cause for its existence, then it must be understood through its proxi­ mate cause. For in fact knowledge of the effect is nothing other than to acquire a more perfect knowledge of the causef

Therefore, as long as we are engaged in an enquiry into real th ings, it will never 93 be permissible for us to draw a conclusion from what is abstract, and we shall take great care not to mix the things that are merely in the intellect with those things that are in reality. The most secure conclusion is to be drawn from some particu- lar affirmative essence, i.e., from a true and legitimate definition . For, starting from universal axioms alone, the intellect cannot descend to particulars, since ax­ ioms are of infinite extension and do not determine the intellect to contemplate one particular th ing rather than another. So the correct path to discovery is to de- 94 velop our th inking from the basis of some given definition, and progress will be more successful and easier as a th ing is better defined. Therefore the whole of this second part of our method hinges on this alone: getting to know the conditions of a good definition, and then devising a way to discover them. I shall therefore first discuss the conditions of definition.

For a definition to be regarded as complete, it must explain the inmost essence 95 of the th ing, and must take care not to substitute for this any of its properties. To explicate this, passing over other examples so as not to appear bent on exposing the errors of others, I shall choose only the example of an abstract thing where the manner of definition is unimportant, a circle, say. If this is defined as a figure in which the l ines drawn from the centre to the circumference are equal , it is obvi-

., The prmclpal rule of this part, as follows from the nrst part, IS to review all the Ideas which we diS­ cover In us as ongmatlng from pure mtellect, so that they may be dlStmgulshed from those we lmag� me. ThIS distinction Will have to be eliCited from the properties of each, that is, lmaginahon and mtellechon.

f Note that this leads to the conclUSIOn that we cannot properly understand anythmg of Nature wlth� out at the same time extending our knowledge of the fust cause, or God.

26 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

ous that such a definition by no means explains the essence of a circle, but only one of its properties. And although, as I have said, th is is a matter ofl ittle impor­ tance when it is a question of figures and other mental constructs, it is neverthe­ less a matter of prime importance when it is a question of physical and real beings. For the properties of things are not understood as long as their essences are not known; and if the latter are neglected, this is bound to distort the inter­ connections made by our intellect which ought to reproduce the interconnec­ tions of Nature, and we shall go fur astray from our goal.

96 So if we are to be delivered from this fault, the following requirements must be satisfied in definition.

I. If the thing be a created thing, the definition , as we have said, must include its proximate cause. For example, according to this rule a circle would have to be defined as follows: a figure described by any line of which one end is fixed and the other movable. This definition clearly includes the proximate cause.

2 . The conception or definition of the thing must be such that all the proper­ ties of the thing, when regarded by itself and not in conjunction with other things, can be deduced from it, as can be seen in the case of this definition of a circle. For from it we clearly deduce that all the l ines drawn from the centre to the circumference are equal.

That this is a necessary requirement of a definition is so self-evident to one who pays attention that i t does not seem worthwhile spending time in demonstrating i t, nor again in showing that according to this second requirement every defini­ tion must be affirmative. I am speaking of intellectual affirmation, disregarding verbal affirmation, which, because of poverty oflanguage, may sometimes be ex­ pressed negatively, although understood affirmatively.

'17 The requirements for the definition of an uncreated thing are as follows:

I . That it should exclude every cause; that is, that the thing should need noth­ ing else for its explanation besides its own being.

2 . That, given the definition ofthe thing, there should remain no room for the question: Does it exist?

3 . That, as far as the mind is concerned, it should contain no substantives that can be put in adjectival form; that is, it should not be explicated through any abstractions.

4. And finally (although it is not really necessary to make this observation) , it is required that all its properties can be deduced from its definition.

All these points are evident if careful attention is paid. 98 I have also stated that the best basis for drawing a conclusion will be a partic-

ular affirmative essence. For the more individual ised an idea is, the more distinct

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 27

it is, and therefore the clearer it is. Hence our most important task is to seek knowl­ edge of particular things.

As to the ordering of all our perceptions and their proper arrangement and uni- 99 fication, it is required that, as soon as is possible and reason demands, we should ask whether there is a being-and also what kind of being-which is the cause of all things so that its essence represented in thought is also the cause of all our ideas. Then our mind, as we have said, will reproduce Nature as closely as possi- ble; for it will possess in the form of thought the essence, order, and unity of Nature. Hence we can see that it is above all necessary for us always to deduce our ideas from physical things, i .e . , from real beings, advancing, as fur as we can, in accordance with the chain of causes from one real being to another real being, and in such a manner as never to get involved with abstractions and universals, neither inferring something real from them nor inferring them from something real. For in either case the true progress of the intellect is interrupted.

But it should be noted that by the series of causes and real beings I do not here 1 00 mean the series of mutable particular things, but only the series of fixed and eter- nal things. It would be impossible for human l im itation to grasp the series of mu- table particular things, not only because they are innumerable but also because of the infinite number of factors affecting one and the same thing, each of which can be the cause of the existence or nonexistence of the thing. For the existence of mutable particular things has no connection with their essence; that is (as we have said), their existence is not an eternal truth.

But neither is there any need for us to understand their series. For the essences 1 0 1 of particular mutable things are not to be elicited from their series or order of ex­ isting, which would furnish us with nothing but their extrinsic characteristics, their relations, or, at the most, their circumstances. All these are fur from the in- most essence of th ings. This essence is to be sought only from the fixed and eter- nal things, and at the same time from the laws inscribed in these things as in their true codes, which govern the coming into existence and the ordering of all par­ ticular things. Indeed, these mutable particular things depend so intimately and essentially (so to phrase i t) on the fixed things that they can neither be nor be con­ ceived without them. Hence, although these fixed and etemal th ings are singu- lar, by reason of their omnipresence and wide-ranging power they will be to us l ike universals, i .e . , the genera of the definitions of particular mutable things, and the proximate causes of all th ings.

But th is being so, there appears to be no small difficulty to surmount before we 1 02 can arrive at the knowledge of these particular things. For to conceive them all at once is a task far beyond the powers of the human intellect. And, as we have said, the order wherein one thing may be understood before another is not to be sought from their position in the series of existing, nor again from eternal th ings. For in the latter case all these things are by nature simultaneous. Therefore we must re- sort to other aids apart from those employed in understanding the eternal th ings and their laws. However, this is not the appropriate place to give an account of those a ids, nor do we need to do so until we have acquired a sufficient knowledge

28 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

of the eternal things and their infall ible laws, and have gained an understanding of the nature of our senses.

J 03 Before we embark upon an enqu iry into our knowledge of particular th ings, i t will be timely for us to treat of those aids, all of which w ill serve to assist us in knowing how to use our senses and to conduct experiments under fixed rules and proper arrangement, such as will suffice to determine the thing which is the object of our enqu iry. From these we may finally infer what are the laws of eter­ nal th ings that govern the th ing's production, and may ga in an insigh t into its inmost nature, as I shall duly show. Here, to return to our theme, I shall confine my efforts to setting forth what seems necessary to enable us to attain to knowl­ edge of eternal things, and to frame their definitions on the terms previously ex­ plained.

J 04 To achieve this, we must recall what we said earl ier, namely, that when the mind attends to some thought so as to examine it and to deduce from it in proper order what can legitimately be deduced, if i t is false, the mind will detect its fal­ sity; but if it is true, the mind will proceed fruitfully without interruption to de­ duce truths from it. This, I say, is what our purpose requires. For our thoughts cannot be determined on any other foundation.

J 05 If, therefore, we wish to investigate the first of all th ings, there has to be some foundation which may direct our thoughts there. Next, since method is reflexive knowledge itself, the foundation which is to give direction to our thoughts can be nothing other than knowledge of what constitutes the specific reality oftruth, and knowledge of the in tellect, its properties and powers. For when this is acquired, we shall have a foundation from which we shall deduce our thoughts, and a path by wh ich the intellect, according to its capacity, may attain knowledge of eternal things, taking into account, of course, the powers of the intellect.

J 06 But if, as has been demonstrated in the first part, it pertains to the nature of thought to form true ideas, we must here enquire what we understand by the fac­ ulties and power of the intellect. Now since the ch ief part of our Method is to achieve a good understanding of the powers of the intellect and its nature, we are necessarily constrained (through considerations set out in this second part of our

J 07 Method) to deduce these simply from the definition of thought and intellect. But so far we have not had any rules for finding definitions; and since we cannot treat of these rules without knowing the natu re or definition of the intellect and its power, it follows that either the definition of the intellect must be self-evident or we cannot understand anything. But that definition is not absolutely self-evident. Nevertheless, since its properties-l ike everything we have from the intellect­ can be clearly and distinctly perceived only if their nature is known, the defini­ tion of intellect will become self-evident if we attend to its properties that we do understand clearly and distinctly. So let us here enumerate the properties of the intellect, consider them, and begin a discussion of our innate tools.'

J 08 The properties of the intellect which I have chiefly noted and clearly under- stand are as follows:

g See above, section 31

Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect 29

I . That it involves certa inty; that is, it knows that things are in reality as they are contained in the intellect in the form of thought.

2 . That i t perceives some things, or forms some ideas, independently, and some ideas it forms from other ideas. To wit, it forms the idea of quantity independently without attending to other thoughts, but i tforms ideas of mo­ tion only by attending to the idea of quantity.

3 . The ideas that it forms independently express infinity, but determinate ideas are formed from other ideas. For if it perceives the idea of a quantity through a cause, then it determines that idea through the idea of a quantity, as when it perceives that a body is formed from the motion of a plane, a plane from the motion of a l ine, and a line from the motion of a point. These percep­ tions do not serve for the understanding of quantity, but only to determine it. This is evident from the fact that we conceive these quantities as formed, as it were, from motion, whereas motion is not perceived unless quantity is per­ ceived; and again we can prolong the motion to form a l ine of infinite extent, which we could not do if we did not possess the idea of infinite quantity.

4. It forms positive ideas before negative ones. 5. It perceives things not so much under duration as under some form of eter­

nity, and as being of infinite number. Or rather, in its perception of th ings, it attends neither to number nor duration. But when i t imagines things, it perceives them as being of fixed number, with determinate duration and quantity.

6. The clear and distinct ideas that we form seem to follow solely from the ne­ cessity of our nature in such a way as to seem to depend absolutely on our power alone. But with confused ideas the contrary is the case; they are of­ ten formed without our consent.

7. There are many ways in which the mind can determine the ideas that the intellect forms from other ideas. For example, to determine the plane of an ell ipse, the mind supposes that a pencil attached to a string moves about two centres, or alternatively it conceives an infinite number of points always maintaining the same fixed relation to a given straigh t l ine, or a cone cut in an oblique plane so that the angle of inclination is greater than the an­ gle at the vertex of the cone. There are innumerable other ways.

8. Ideas are the more perfect as they express a greater degree of perfection of an object. For we do not admire the architect who has designed a chapel as much as one who has deSigned a splendid temple.

Other things that are referred to thought, such as l ove, joy, and so on, I shall not 1 09 pause to consider; for they are neither relevant to our purpose, nor again can they be conceived unless the intellect is perceived. For if perception is entirely re­ moved, all these are removed.

False and fictitious ideas have nothing posi tive (as we have abundantly shown) 1 1 0 through which they are called false o r fictitious; they are considered a s such only from the defectiveness of our knowledge. Therefore false and fictitious ideas, as

30 Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect

such, can teach us nothing concerning the essence of thought; this is to be sought from those positive properties j ust reviewed. That is, we must now establish some common basis from which these properties necessarily follow; a basis wh ich , when given, necessarily entails these properties, and wh ich , when removed, re­ moves them all.

The rest is lacking.

S HORT TREATI S E ON

GOD , MAN , AN D H I S

WE LL- B E I NG

The Short Treatise on God, Man, and H is Well-Being is the second work of Spinoza's early period. It was probably in hand by 1 662. At the end of a long letter to Henry Oldenburg, largely taken up with Spinoza's comments on scientific points in a recent book by Robert Boyle, Spinoza refers to a "short work" that he has written on the question of the origin of things and a first cause; the letter (Ep6) was written in early 1 662. In addition, there is a reference to a "certain Dutch writing" that speaks of God as the whole universe, written by a Cartesian associated with Van den Enden, among others, in the journal of a Danish visitor to the Low Countries, Olaus Borch; the journal entry is for 3 April 1 662. It is tempting to take this Dutch work to be the Short Treatise, the only work ofSpinoza's written in Dutch. Some scholars also conjecture that the two Dutch versions of the Short Treatise are translations of an original Latin text by Spinoza, now lost.

By 1 662, then, Spinoza had sketched the main lines of the new view-his "philosophy" -about God, the human mind, and nature that he had referred to in the TIE. By this time, he had moved from Amsterdam to Rijnsburg, a small village just outside of Leiden, and enjoyed its relative solitude. Rijnsburg was known for its tolerance, and it was close to the university, where he had met friende and folk of common spiri� Adriaan Koerbagh among them. The Short Treatise, begun in Amsterdam, was continued in this new environment. It is the work of a devoted student of the Cartesian philosophy who was, at the same time, striking out on his own paths.

The structure ofSpinoza's Ethics is already suggested in the Short Treatise. It begins with metaphysics and theology, turns to epistemology and psychology, and ende with ethics and religion. More precisely, Spinoza begins by proving God's existence, eventually discusses the roles of the senses, reason, and the passions in human conduct, and concludes with a eulogy to the life devoted to the love of God, to knowing God and achieving a comprehensive scientific­ philosophical understanding of Nature. Like the earlier TIE, the core of the Short Treatise is an ancient commitment to the life of eudaimonia, an intellectual life that satisfied the scriptural mandate to imitatio dei and the philosophical-Stoic desire for hannonious, natural living. But if the structure is

3 1

32 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

traditionally classical, the core that unites Spino;z;a's classicism with his biblical affinities is the commitment to the identity of God and Nature. Virtually all that is novel in the Short Treatise flows from or at least circulates around this deep belief

Still the treatise leaves this commitment insufficiently grounded, and Spino;z;a came to reali;z;e this deficiency. Central to his naturalism, to his denial of free will, to his account of human emotions and action, the identity of God with Nature is a strong and determinative principle. It demanded justification and clarification beyond what it received, as did other claims, like the account of the difference between thought and extension and hence of the relation between mind and body. The overall character of Spinoza's understanding of religion, metaphysics, nature, and ethics had taken shape, but its fine lineaments needed elaboration. The project occupied him in the quiet ofRijnsburg and the company offriends and colleagues.

M.L.M.

[Title-page in AJ

SHORT TREATISE ON GOD, MAN, AND HIS

WELL-BEING

Previously written in the Latin tongue b y B D . S . for t h e u s e of h i s disciples w h o wanted t o devote

themselves to the study of Ethics and true Philosophy. And now translated into the Dutch language for the use of the Lovers of Truth and

Virtue: so that they who spout so much about it, and put their dirt and filth into the hands of

simpletons as though it were ambergris, may just have their mouths stopped, and cease to profane

what they do not understand: God, themselves, and how to help people to have regard for each other's well-being, and how to heal those whose mind is sick, in a spirit of tenderness and tolerance, after

the example of the Lord Christ, our best Teacher

33

[Title-page in BJ

ETHICA OR MORAL SCIENCE COMPOSED IN Two PARTS

WHICH TREAT I. Of God's Existence, and Attributes

I I . Of Man, with reference to the character and origin of his Passions, the use of his reason in this respect, and the means where by he is educated to his Happiness and supreme freedom

Also an Appendix, containing a brief account of the nature of Substance - as well as that of the human Soul, and its union with th e Body

COMPOSED BY

BENEDICTUS DE SPINOZA

34

CONTENTS

OF THE FOLLOWING Two BOOKS, NAMELY:

THE FIRST BOOK

Treating of God and What Pertains to Him, Contains the Fol lowing Chapters

I . That God Exists II. What God Is

[First Dialogue] [Second Dialogue]

lII. That God Is a Cause of All Th ings IV. On God's Necessary Activity V. On Divine Providence

VI. On Divine Predestination VII. On the Attributes Which Do Not Perta in to God

VIII. On "Natura Naturans" IX. On "Natura Naturata" X. What Good and Evil Are

THE SECOND BOOK

Treating of the Perfection of Man So That He May Be in a Position to Become

United with God

[Preface] I. On Opinion, Bel ief, and Knowledge

II. What Opinion, Bel ief, and Clear Knowledge Are III. The Origin of Passion. Pass ion Arising from Opinion IV. What Comes from Bel ief, and on the Good and Evil of Man V. On Love

VI. On Hatred VII. On Joy and Sorrow

3 5

36 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

VIII. Esteem and Contempt IX. Hope and Fear X. On Remorse and Repentance

XI. On Derision and Jesting XII. On Glory, Shame, and Shamelessness

XIII . On Favour, Gratitude, and Ingratitude XlV. On Grief XV. On the True and the False

XVI. On the Will XVII. On the Distinction between Will and Desire

XVIII . On the Uses of the ForegOing XIX. On Our Happiness XX. Confirmation of the Foregoing

XXI. On Reason XXII. On True Knowledge, Regeneration, Etc.

XXIII. On the Immortality of the Soul XXIV. On God's Love of Man XXV. On Devils

XXVI. On True Freedom

[Appendix I.] On God [Appendix II . ] On the Human Soul

FIRST PART

ON GOD

CHAPTER I

That God Exists

Part I, Chapter I 37

As regards the first, namely, whether there is a Cod, th is, we say, can be proved.

I . In the first place, a priori thus: I. Whatever we clearly and distinctly know to belong to the naturel of a

thing, we can also truly affirm of that thing. Now we can know clearly and distinctly that existence belongs to the nature of Cod; Therefore . . . Otherwise also thus:

2. The essence of things are from all eternity, and unto all eternity shall remain immutable; The existence of Cod is essence; Therefore . . .

I I . A posteriori, thus: If man has an idea of Cod, then Cod2 must exist formaliter; Now, man has an idea of Cod; Therefore . . .

Spinoza's notes are indicated by numerals. Notes tndtcated by letters and enclosed In brackets are those of translator A. Wolf (main annotator for this work) and Michael L. Morgan. 1 Understand the definite nature through which a thing is what It IS, and which can by no means be

removed from it without at the same time destroying that thing: thus, for Instance, it belongs to the essence of a mountain that it should have a valley, or the essence of a mountain is that It has a val­ ley; thiS is truly eternal and irrunutable, and must always be mcluded In the concept of a mountam, even if it never eXisted, or did not exist now.

2 From the definition which follows In chapter 2, namely, that God has infinite attributes, we can prove his existence thus; Whatever we clearly and dlsttnctly see to belong to the nature of a thing, that we can also with truth affirm of that thtng; now to the nature of a being that has Infinite attnb­ utes belongs eXIStence, which IS an attribute; therefore " " " To assert that thiS may well be affirmed of the idea, but not of the thing Itself, IS false; for the Idea does not really consist of the attnbute which belongs to this being, so that that which IS afftrmed is [affirmed] neither of the thing, nor of that which is affirmed of the thing; so that there IS a great difference between the Idea and the Ideaw tum" therefore what IS afftrmed of the thing is not affirmed of the Idea, and Vice veISa

38 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

The first we prove thus:

If there is an idea of God, then the cause thereof must exist {ormaliter, and contain in itself all that the idea has ob;ective; Now there is an idea of God; Therefore _ _ .

In order to prove the first part of this argument we state the following princi- ples, namely:

I. That the number of knowable things is infinite; 2. That a finite understanding cannot apprehend the infinite; 3 . That a finite understanding, unless it is determined by something exter­

nal, cannot through itself know anything; because, just as it has no power to know all things equally, so little also has it the power to begin or to com­ mence to know this, for instance, sooner than that, or that sooner than th is. S ince, then, it can do neither the one nor the other it can know noth ing.

The first (or the major premiss) is proved thus:

If the imagination of man were the sole cause of h is ideas, then it would be impossible that he should be able to apprehend anyth ing, but he can ap­ prehend someth ing; Therefore . . .

The first" is proved by the first principle, namely, that the knowable things are in­ finitely numerous. Also, following the second principle, man cannot know all, be­ cause the human understanding is finite, and if not determined by external things to know this sooner than that, and that sooner than th is, then according to the third principle it should be impossible for it to know anything.'

a [Instead ofthls paragraph B has the followmg: "Again, since accordmg to the [ust principle the know­ able thmgs are mfimte, and accordmg to the second pnnclple the fmite understandmg cannot com­ prehend everythmg, and accordmg to the third pnnclple It has not the power to know thIS sooner than that, and that sooner than this, d would be Impossible for It to know anything, tfit were not de­ termtned thereto by edernal thmgs. -A.W]

3 Further, t o say that thiS Idea I S a ftchon, thIS also I S false: for I t I S ImpossIble t o have thIS [Idea] I f It [the ideatum] does not eXist; thIS IS shown on pages 37-8, and we also add the followmg:

It IS qUite true that when an Idea has fust come to us from a parttcular thmg, and we have gen­ erahsed it in abstracto, then our understandmg may fancy various thmgs about It, and we can add to It many other attnbutes abstracted from other thmgs. But It IS ImpossIble to do this WIthOut a prior knowledge of the thmgs themselves from whIch these abstractions have been made. Once, how­ ever, It IS assumed that thIS Idea [of Codl ls a ftctlon, then all other ideas that we have must be ftc­ hons no less. If thIS IS so, whence comes it that we fmd such a great difference among them? For as regards some we see that It is impossible they should eXISt; e .g., all monsters supposed to be com­ posed of two nahues, such as an antmal that should be both a bird and a horse, and the hke, for which it is ImpossIble to have a place m Nature, which we fmd differently constituted; other iciea3 may, but need not, eXIst; whether, however, they eXIst or do not eXIst, their essence IS always neces­ sary, such is the Idea of a triangle, and that of the love m the soul apart from the body, etc , so that even If I at fust thought that r had lmagmed these, r am nevertheless compelled afterwards to say

Part I, Chapter I 39

From all th is the second point is proved, namely, that the caWle of a man's ideas is not his imagination but some external cause, which compels him to apprehend one thing sooner than another, and it is no other than this, that the thing. whose essentia ob;ectiva is in his understanding exist formaliter, and are nearer to him than other thing., If, then, man has the idea of God, i t is clear that God must exist formaliter, though not eminenter, as there is nothing more real or more ex­ cellent beside or outside him. Now, that man has the idea of God, this is clear, because he knows h is attributes: which attributes cannot be derived from [man 1 h imself, because he is imperfect. And that he knows these attributes is evident from this, namely, that he knows that the infinite cannot be obtained by putting together divers finite parts; that there cannot be two infinites, but only one; that it is perfect and immutable, for we know that noth ing seeks, of itself, its own anni­ h ilation, and also that it cannot change into anything better,5 because it is per-

that they are, and would be, the same no less even If netther I nor anybody had ever thought about them. They are, consequently, not merely lmagmed by me, and rrrust also have outside me a subjec­ tum other than myself, Without which subjectum they cannot be In addition to these there is yet a third idea, and It IS an only one; this one carnes With It necessal)' existence, and not, like the forego­ tog, the mere possihllity of eXIstence" for, 10 the case of those, their essence was mdeed necessary, but not thetr existence, while In Its case, both Its eXistence and its essence are necessary. and It IS nothmg Without them. I therefore see now that the truth, essence, or existence of anythmg never depends on me: for, as was shown with reference to the second kind of Ideas, they are what they are mdependently of me, whether as regards their essence alone, or as regards both essence and existence. I find thIS to be true also, mdeed mtch more so, of thIS third unique Idea; not only does It not depend on me, but on the contrary, he alone rrrust be the sub;ectum of that which I affirm of him. Consequently, ifhe did not eXist, I should not be able to assert anything at all about him, although this can be done in the case of other things, even when they do not eXISt He rrrust also be, mdeed, the sub;ectum of all other things.

From what has been said so far it is clearly manifest that the Idea of infinite attributes m the per­ fect beIng IS no fiction; we shal l, however, still add the follOWIng·

According to the foregoing conSideration of Nature, we have so far not been able to discover more than two attributes only which belong to thIS all-perfect bemg. And these give us nothmg ad­ equate to satisfy us that thiS is all of which thiS perfect being consists, qude the contrary, we find In us a something which openly tells us not only of more, but of mfmite perfect attributes, which must belong to this perfect bemg before he can be said to be perfect And whence comes this Idea of per­ fechon? This something cannot be the outcome of these two [attnbutes]: for two can only yield two, and not an infinity. Whence then? From myself, never; else I must be able to give what I did not possess. Whence, then, but from the mflnlte attributes themselves which tell us that they are, With­ out however tellmg us, at the same time, what they are' for only of two do we know what they are.

4 His attributes, it IS better [to say], because he knows what IS proper to God; for these thIngs [infm­ Ity, perfection, etc.] are no attnbutes of God. Wdhout these, mdeed, God could not be God, but It is not through them [that he IS God] , smce they show nothmg substanttal, but are only hke adJec­ tives which requue substantives or theu explanation

5 The cause of this change would have to be either outSide, or m d. l t cannot be outside, because no substance which, hke thIS, eXists through Itself depends on anythmg outside It; therefore It IS not sub,ect to change through it. Nor can It be m It: because no thmg, rrruch less thiS, desues Its own un­ doing, all undomg comes from outslde.b

b [Agam, that there can be no finite substance is clear from thIS, because m that case it would nec­ essarily have to have somethmg which It had from nothmg: which IS impossible, for whence has It that wherem It dIffers from God7 Certamly not from God, for he has nothmg Imperfect or fl­ mte, etc ' whence, therefore, but from nothmg7 (in B)]

40 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

feet, which it would not be in that case, or also that such a being cannot be sub­ jected to anything outside it, since it is omnipoten t, and so forth .

From all th is, then, it follows clearly that we can prove both a priori and a pos­ teriori that God exists. Better, indeed, a priori. For things which are proved in the latter way [a posteriori] must be proved through their external causes, which is a manifest imperfection in them, inasmuch as they cannot make themselves known through themselves, but only through external causes. God, however, who is the first cause of all th ings, and also the cause of h imself [causa sui], makes himself known through himself. Hence one need not attach much importance to the say­ ing of Thomas Aquinas, namely, that God could not be proved a priori because he, forsooth, has no cause.

CHAPTER II

What God Is

Now that we have proved above that God is, it is time to show what he is. Namely, we say that he is a being of whom all or infinire attributes are predicated,6 of which attributes every one is infinitely perfect in its kind. Now, in order to express our views clearly, we shall premise the four following propositions:

I. That there is no finite substance,' but that every substance must be infi­ nitely perfect in its kind, that is to say, that in the infinite understanding of God no substance can be more perfect than that which already exists in Nature.

2 . That there are not two like substances. 3 . That one substance cannot produce another. 4 . That in the infinite understanding of God there is no other substance than

that which is formaliter in Nature.

6 The reason is thiS, smce Nothing can have no attributes, the All rrrust have all attnbutes, and Just as Nothing has no attnbute because it IS Nothmg, so that which is Something has attnbutes because It is Something. H ence, the more d IS Something,. the more attributes d rrrust have, and consequently God betng the most perfect, and all that IS Anythmg, he IIllst also have infimte, perfect, and all attributes

7 Once we can prove that there can be no Finite Substance, then all substance must without hmlta­ tion belong to the dlvme bemg. We do It thus: 1 . It rrrust either have lunited Itself or some other must have limited It I t could not have done so Itself, because having been infinite it would have had to change Its whole essence. Nor can It be Inruted by another. for thiS agam rrrust be either finite or in­ finite, the former is IInposslble, therefore the latter, therefore It [ I .e . , the other thmg] IS God. He rrrust, then, have made It ftnlte because he lacked either the power or the will [to make It mfmlte] . but the first [suppositIOn] IS contrary to hIS omnipotence, the second IS contrary to hiS goodness. 2. That there can be no finite substance is clear from thiS, namely, that, Ifso, It would necessarily have something which It would have from Nothtng, which is Impossible. For whence can It derive that wherem it differs from God? Certamly not from God, for he has nothmg Imperfect or fmlte, etc. So, whence then but from Nothtng? Therefore there IS no substance other than mfmde. Whence It fol­ lows, that there cannot be two like infinite substances, for to posit such necessitates Inrutahon. And from this, again, it follows that one substance cannot produce another; thus: The cause that we might

Part I, Chapter II 4 1

As regards the first, namely, that there i s no finite substance, etc . , should any one want to maintain the opposite, we would ask the following question, namely, whether th is substance is finite through itself, whether it has made itself thus fi­ nite and did not want to make itselfless finite; or whether i t is thus finite through its cause, which cause either could not or would not give more? The first [alter­ native] is not true, because it is impossible that a substance should have wanted to make itself finite, especially a substance which had come into existence through itself Therefore, I say, it is made finite by its cause, which is necessarily God. Further, if it is finite through its cause, th is must be so either because its cause could not give more, or because it would not give more. That he should not have been able to give more would contradict his omnipotence;8 that he should not have been willing to give more, when he could well do so, savours of ill-will , which is nowise in God, who is all goodness and perfection.

As regards the second, that there are not two like substances, we prove this on the ground that each substance is perfect in its kind; for if there were two al ike they would necessarily l imit one another, and would consequently not be infinite, as we have already shown before.

As to the third, namely, that one substance cannot produce another: should any one again maintain the opposite, we ask whether the cause, which is supposed to produce this substance, has or has not the same attributes as the produced [sub­ stance]. The latter is impossible, because something cannot come from noth ing; there!ore the former. And then we ask whether in the attribute which is presumed to be the cause of th is produced [substance] , there is just as much perfection as in the produced substance, or less, or more. Less, we say, there cannot be, for the

suppose to produce thlS substance must have the same attributeC as the one produced. and also eI­ ther Just as Inlch perfection or more or less. The [ust supposition IS not pOSSible. because there would then be two lIke [substances]. The second also not, because in that case there would be a fi­ mte [substance ] . Nor the third, because somethmg cannot come from notlung.-Moreover. if the finited came from the mfmlte, then the mfmltee would also be fmite, etc. Therefore one substance can not produce another And from this, agam, It follows that all substance must exist "(armaUteT," for if it dId not eXist, there would be no possibility for it to come mto existence

C [B. attnbutes.]

d [B: tnfmite ] ., [B the cause.]

8 To say to thiS that the nature ofths thing required such [limitatlOn1 and that it could not therefore be othenvise, that IS no reply: for the nature ofa thmg can requtre nothtng while It does not exist. Should you say that one may, nevertheless, see what belongs to the nature of a thmg which does not exiSt. that IS true as regards ds eXIStence, but by no means as regards Its essence. And herem hes the dif­ ference between creating and generating To create IS to posit a thmg quo ad essentiam et existen­ tiam slmul [I .e., to give a thing both essence and eXistence], whIle m the case of generation a thing comes forth quo ad existentiam salam [Le., It only recetves eXistence] . And therefore there IS now m Nature no creation but only generatIOn. So that when God creates he creates at once the nature of the thmg wlth the thmg itself He would therefore show 11I-wtll lf(from lack of will, and not of power) he created the thmg m such a way that It should not agree wdh ItS cause m essence and eXistence However, what we here call creation can really not be said ever to have taken place, and it IS only mentioned to mdlcate what we can say about It, If we distinguiSh between creating and generating

42 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

reasons given above. More, also not, we say, because in that case this second one would be finite, which is opposed to what has already been proved by us. Just as much, then; they are therefore al ike, and are two l ike substances, which clearly conflicts with our previous demonstration. Further, that which is created is by no means produced from Nothing, but must necessarily have been produced from something existing. But that something should have come forth from this, and that it should nonetheless have this something even after i t has issued from it, that we cannot grasp with our understanding. Lastly, if we would seek the cause of the substance which is the origin of the thing. which issue from its attribute, then it behoves us to seek also the cause of that cause, and then again the cause of that cause, et sic in infinitum; so that if we must necessarily stop and halt somewhere, as indeed we must, i t is necessary to stop at th is only substance.

As regards the fourth, that there is no substance or attribute in the infinite un­ derstanding of God other than what exists "formaliter" in Nature, this can be, and is, proved by us: ( I ) from the infinite power of God, since in him there can be no cause by which he might have been induced to create one sooner or more than another; (2) from the simpl icity of h is will; (3) because he cannot omit to do what is good, as we shall show afterwards; (4) because it would be impossible for that which does not now exist to come into existence, since one substance cannot pro­ duce another. And, what is more, in that case there would be more infinite sub­ stances not in existence than there are in existence, which is absurd. From all th is i t follows then : that of Nature all in all is predicated, and that consequently Na­ ture consists of infin ite attributes, each of which is perfect in its kind. And this is j ust equivalent to the definition usually given of God.

Against what we have just said, namely, that there is no thing in the infinite un­ derstanding of God but what exists formaliter in Nature, some want to argue in this way: H God has created all, then he can create nothing more; but that he should be able to create nothing more conflicts with his omnipotence; therefore _ _ .

Concerning the first, we admit that God can create noth ing more. And with regard to the second, we say that we own, if God were not able to create all that could be created, then it would conflict with h is omnipotence; but that is by no means the case if he cannot create what is self-contradictory; as it is, to say that he has created all, and also that he should be able to create still more. Assuredly it i s a far greater perfection in God that he has created a l l that was in h is infinite un­ derstanding than if he had not created it, or, as they say, if he had never been able to create it. But why say so much about it? Do they not themselves argue thus,9 or must they not argue thus from God's omniscience: If God is omniscient then he can know nothing more; but that God can know nothing more is incompati­ ble with his perfection; therefore . . . ? But if God has all in h is understanding, and, owing to his infinite perfection, can know noth ing more, well then, why can we not say that he has also created all that he had in h is understanding, and has made i t so that it exists or should exist formaliter in Nature?

9 That IS, whenever we make them argue from this adrrusslon, namely, that God is omniscient, then they cannot but argue thus

PartI, Chapter II 43

Since, then , we know that all al ike is in the infinite understanding of God, and that there is no cause why he should have created this sooner and more than that, and that he could have produced all things in a moment, so let us see, for once, whether we cannot use against them the same weapons which they take up against us; namely, thus:

If God can never create so much that he cannot create more, then he can never create what he can create; but that he cannot create what he can create is self­ contradictory. Therefore . . .

Now the reasons why we said that all these attributes, which are in Nature, are but one s ingle being, and by no means different things (although we can know them clearly and distinctly the one without the other, and the other without an­ other), are these:

1. Because we have found already before that there must be an infinite and perfect being, by which nothing else can be meant than such a being of which all in all must be predicated. Why? [Because 1 to a being which has any essence at­ tributes must be referred, and the more essence one ascribes to it, the more at­ tributes also must one ascribe to i t, and consequently if a being is infinite then its attributes also must be infinite, and this is j ust what we call a perfed being.

2 . Because of the unity which we see everywhere in Nature. If there were dif­ ferent beings in it lO then it would be impossible for them to unite with one an­ other.

3 . Because although, as we have already seen, one substance cannot produce another, and if a substance does not exist it is impossible for it to begin to exist, we see, nevertheless, that in no substance (which we nonetheless know to exist in Nature), when considered separately, is there any necessity to be real, since exis­ tence does not pertain to its separate essence. l l So it must necessarily follow that Nature, wh ich results from no causes, and which we nevertheless know to exist, must necessarily be a perfect being to which existence belongs.

From all that we have so far said it is evident, then, that we posit extension as an attribute of God; and this seems not at all appropriate to a perfect being: for

f [B . an mftnite.] 1 0 That IS, If there were different substances which were not connected In one only betng, then theIr

muon would be impOSSible, because we see clearly that they have nothmg at all in common, it is so With thought and extension of which we nevertheless consist.

1 1 That IS, if no substance can be other than real, and yet eXistence does not follow from its essence, when d IS conSidered by itself, It follows that It is not somethtng independent, but rrrust be some­ thmg, that IS, an attnbute, of another thmg, namely, the one, only, and UnIversal bemg. Or thus: All substance IS real, and when a substance IS considered by Itself Its eXIStence does not follow from Its essence; therefore, no eXISting substance can be known through Itself, but It must belong to somethmg else. That IS, when with our understandmg we conSider "substantial" Thought and ["substantial"] ExtenSion, then we conSider them only In thetr essence and not as eXISting, that IS [we do not conSIder] that their eXIstence necessarily pertams to their essence When, however, we prove [of each] that It IS an attribute of Cad, we thereby prove a prlon that It exISts, and a posteri­ on (as regards extenSIon alone) [we prove Its eXIStence] from the modes whIch must necessanly have it for thetr 8ubjectum

44 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

since extension is divisible, the perfect being would have to consist of parts, and this is altogether inappl icable to God, because he is a simple being. Moreover, when extension is divided it is passive, and with God (who is never passive, and cannot be affected by any other being, because he is the first efficient cause of all) this can by no means be the case.

To this we reply: ( I ) that "part" and "whole" are not true or real entities, but only "thing. of reason; and consequently there are in Naturel 2 neither whole nor parts. (2) A thing composed of different parts must be such that the parts thereof, taken separately, can be conceived and understood one without another. Take, for instance, a clock which is composed of many different wheels, cords, and other things; in it, I say, each wheel, cord, etc. , can be conceived and understood sepa­ rately, without the composite whole being necessary thereto. Similarly also in the case of water, which consists of straight oblong particles, each part thereof can be conceived and understood, and can exist without the whole; but extension, being a substance, one cannot say of it that it has parts, since it can neither diminish nor increase, and no parts thereof can be understood apart, because by its nature it must be infinite. And that i t must be such, follows from this, namely, because if it were not such, but consisted of parts, then i t would not be infinite by its nature, as it is said to be; and i t is impossible to conceive parts in an infinite nature, since by their nature all parts are finite. ' Add to this still : if it consisted of different parts then it should be intell igible that supposing some parts thereof to be annih ilated, extention might remain all the same, and not be annihilated together with the an­ nihilation of some of its parts; this is clearly contradictory in what is infinite by its own nature and can never be, or be conceived, as l imited or finite. Further, as re­ gards the parts in Nature, we maintain that divis ion, as has also been said already before, never takes place in substance, but always and only in the mode of sub-

1 2 In Nature, that IS, In "substantial" ExtenSIOn; for tf thts were divided Its nature and being would be at once annihilated, as lt eXiSts only as mfmde extenSIOn, or, which comes to the same, It exists only as a whole.

But should you say: IS there, in extenSion, no part prior to al l tis modes? I say, certamly not. But you may say, since there IS motion In matter, It rrrust be In some part of matter, for it cannot be In the whole, because this IS tnflmte; and whlther shall tt be moved, when there IS nothmg outSide it? Therefore It rrrust be In a part. My answer is: Mohon alone does not eXist, but only motion and rest together; and thIS IS In the whole, and rrrust be m It, because there is no part In extension. Should you, however, say that there IS, then tell me: If you diVide the whole of extension then, as regards any part which you cut off from it In thought, can you also separate d in nature from all [other] parts; and suppoSing thIS has been done, I ask, what IS there between the part cut offg and the rest? You must say, a vacuum, or another body, or somethmg of extension Itself, there IS no fourth pos­ slbihty The fust wtll not do, because there IS no vacuum, something positive and yet no body; nor the second. because then there would eXISt a mode, which cannot be, sinceh extensIOn as exten­ sIOn is without and pnor to all modes. Therefore the third; and then there is no part but only the whole of extension.'

g [B , separated.]

h [B. therefore.]

I [B: but extenSion one and indiVIsible.]

J [S· because all the parts would have to be infinite by their nature.]

Part I, Chapter II 45

stance. Thus, if I want to divide water, I only divide the mode of substance, and not substance itself. And whether this mode is that of water or something else i t is always the same k

Division, then, or passivity, always takes place in the mode; thus when we say that man passes away or is annihilated, then this is understood to apply to man only insofur as he is such a composite being, and a mode of substance, and not the substance on which he depends.

Moreover, we have already stated, and we shalI repeat it later, that outside God there is nothing at alI , and that he is an Immanent Cause. Now, passivity, when­ ever the agent and the patient are different entities, is a palpable imperfection, be­ cause the patien t must necessarily be dependent on that which has caused the passivity from outside; it has, therefore, no place in God, who is perfect. Further­ more, of such an agent who acts in himself it can never be said that he has the imperfection of a patient, because he is not affected by another; such, for instance, is the case with the understanding, which, as the philosophers also assert, is the cause of its ideas, since, however, it is an immanent cause, what right has one to say that it is imperfect, howsoever frequently it is affected by itself?i lastly, since substance is [ the cause] and the origin of all its modes, it may with far greater righ t be called an agent than a patien t. And with these remarks we consider alI ade­ quately answered .

It is further objected, that there must necessarily be a first cause which sets body in motion, because when at rest i t is impossible for it to set itself in motion. And since it is clearly manifest that rest and motion exist in Nature, these must, they think, necessarily result from an external cause. But i t is easy for us to reply to th is; for we concede that, if body were a th ing existing through itself, and had no other attributes than length, breadth, and depth, then, if it realIy rested there would be in it no cause whereby to begin to move itself; but we have already stated before that Nature is a being of which all attributes are predicated, and th is being so, it can be lacking in nothing wherewith to produce all that there is to be produced.

Having so fur discussed what God is, we shalI say but a word, as it were, about h is attributes: that those which are known to us consist of two only, namely, Thought and Extension; for here we speak only of attributes which might be calIed the proper attributes of God, through which we come to know him [as he is] in h imself, and not [merely] as he acts [towards things] outside h imself. All else, then, that men ascribe to God beyond these two attributes, all that (if it otherwise pertains to h im) must be either an "extraneous denomination;' such as that he ex· ists through himse/(, is Eternal, One, Immutable, etc . , or, I say, has reference to h is activity, such as that he is a cause, predestines, and rules all th ings: all which are properties of God, but give us no information as to what he is. But how and in what manner these attributes can nevertheless have a place in God we shall ex-

k [B . When, therefore, I divide water I do not diVide the substance, but only that mode of the sub­ stance, which substance, however, vanously modified. IS always the same.]

I [B . And although the understandtng, as the philosophers say, IS a cause of its ideas, yet, stDce d IS an Immanent cause, etc J

46 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

plain in the following chapters. But, for the better understanding of this and in further expos ition thereof, we have thought i t well and have decided to add the following arguments consisting of a [Dialogue] .

[First] Dialogue Between the Understanding, Love, Reason, and Desire

loVE: I see, Brother, that both my essence and perfection depend on your per­ fection; and since the perfection of the object which you have conceived is your perfection, wh ile from yours again mine proceeds, so tell me now, I pray you, whether you have conceived such a being as is supremely perfect, not capable of being l imited by any other, and in wh ich I also am comprehended.

UNDERSTANDING: I for my part consider Nature only in its totality as infinite, and supremely perfect, but you, if you have any doubts about i t, ask Reason , she will tell you.

REASON: To me the truth of the matter is indubitable, for if we would l imit Nature then we should, absurdly enough, have to limit i t with a mere Noth ing;m we avoid this absurdity by stating that it is One Eternal Unity, infinite, omnipo­ tent, etc . , that is, that Nature is infinite and that all is contained therein; and the negative of this we call Nothing.

DESIRE: Ah indeed! It is wondrously congruous to suppose that Unity is in keeping with the Difference which I observe everywhere in Nature. But how? I see that thinking substance has nothing in common with extended substance, and that the one l imits [not] the other; and if, in addition to these substances, you want to posit yet a th ird one which is perfect in all respects, then look how you involve yourself in manifest contradictions; for if this th ird one is placed outside the first two, then it is wanting in all the attributes which belong to those two, but this can never be the case with a whole outside of which there is nothing. Moreover if this being is omnipoten t and perfect, then it must be such because it has made itself, and not because another has made it; that, however, which could produce both itself and yet another besides would be even more omnipotent. And lastly, if you call it omniscient then it is necessary that it should know itself; and, at the same time, you must know that the knowledge of oneself alone is less than the knowl­ edge of oneself together with the knowledge of other substances. All these are manifest contradictions. I would, therefore, have advised Love to rest content with what I show her, and to look about for no other things.

LOVE: What now, a dishonourable one, have you shown me but what would result in my immediate ruin. For, if [ had ever united myself with what you have shown me, then from that moment I should have been persecuted by the two arch­ enemies of the human race, namely, Hatred and Remorse, and sometimes also by

m [A and B contmue: moreover under the follOWing attributes, namely. that It IS One, Eternal, infi- nite through itself; we aVOid 1

Part I, Chapter II 47

Oblivion; and therefore I turn again to Reason only to proceed and stop the mouths of these foes.

REASON: What you say, a Desire, that there are different substances, that, I tell you, is false; for I see clearly that there is but One, which exists through itself, and is a support to all other attributes. And if you will refer to the material and the mental as substances, in relation to the modes which are dependent on them, why then, you must also call them modes in relation to the substance on which they depend: for they are not conceived by you as existing through themselves. And in the same way that will ing, feel ing, understanding, loving, etc . , are different modes of that which you call a th inking substance, in which you bring together and unite all these in one,n so I also conclude, from your own proofs, that Both Infinite Ex­ tension and Thought together with all other infinite attributes (or, according to your usage, other substances) are only modes of the One, Eternal, Infinite Being, who exists through himself; and from all these we posit, as stated, An Only One or a Unity outside which nothing can be imagined to be.o

DESIRE: Methinks I see a very great confusion in this argument of yours; for, it seems you will have it that the whole must be something outside of or apart from its parts, which is truly absurd. For all philosophers are unanimous in saying that "whole" is a second notion, and that it is nothing in Nature apart from human thought. Moreover, as I gather from your example, you confuse whole with cause: for, as I say, the whole only consists of and [exists 1 through its parts, and so it comes that you represent the thinking power as a thing on which the Understanding, Love, etc . , depend. But you cannot call i t a Whole, only a Cause of the Effects just named by you.

REASON: I see decidedly how you muster all your friends aga inst me, and that, after the method usually adopted by those who oppose the truth, you are design­ ing to achieve by quibbling what you have not been able to accompl ish with your fallacious reasoning. But you will not succeed in winning Love to your side by such means. Your assertion, then, is, that the cause (since it is the Originator of the effects) must therefore be outside these. But you say this because you only know of the transeunt and not of the immanent cause, which by no means produces any­ thing outside itself, as is exemplified by the Understanding, which is the cause of its ideas. And that is why I called the understanding (insofar as, or because, its ideas depend on itP) a cause; and on the other hand, since it consists of its ideas, a whole: so also God is both an Immanent Cause with reference to his works or crea­ tures, and also a whole, considered {rom the second point of view.

n [A: Al l which you bnng to one, and make one from all these; B: to which you bnng all and make them mto one.]

o [B: . . . One, Eternal, self-subslShng Betng In which all IS one and umted. and outside which Untty nothing can be imagmed to be.]

P [A: It depends on Its Ideas 1

48 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

Second Dialogue Between

Erasmus and Theophilus Relating Partly to the Preceding, Partly to the

Following Second Part

ERASMUS: I have heard you say, Theophilus, that God is a cause of all things, and, at the same time, that he can be no other than an Immanent cause. Now, if he is an immanent cause of all things, how then can you call him a remoteq cause? For, that is impossible in the case of an Immanent cause.

THEoPH ILUs: When I said that God is a remoteq cause, I only said it with ref­ erence to the things [which God has produced mediately, and not with reference to those] which God (without any other conditions beyond his mere existence) has produced immediately; but on no account did I mean to call him a remoteq cause absolutely: as you might also have clearly gathered from my remarks. For, I also said that in some respects we can call him a remote cause.

ERASMUS: I understand now adequately what you want to say; but I note also that you have sa id, that the effect of the immanent cause remains united with its cause in such a way that together they constitute a whole. Now, if this is so, then, methinks, God cannot be an immanent cause. For, if he and that which is pro­ duced by him together form a whole, then you ascribe to God at one time more essence than at another time. I pray you, remove these doubts for me.

THEOPH ILUS: If, Erasmus, you want to extricate yourself from this confusion , then mark well what I am going to tell you now. The essence of a thing does not increase through its union with another thing with which it constitutes a whole; on the contrary, the first remains unchanged. I will give you an illustration, so that you may understand me the better. An image-carver has made from wood various forms after the likeness of the parts of the human body; he takes one of these, which has the form of a human breast, joins it to another, which has the form of a human head, and of these two he makes a whole, which represents the upper part of a human body; would you therefore say that the essence of the head has increased because it has been joined to the breast? That would be erroneous, be­ cause it is the same that it was before. For the sake of greater clearness let me give you another illustration, namely, an idea that I have of a triangle, and another re­ sulting from an extension of one of the angles, which extended or extending an­ gle is necessarily equal to the two interior opposite angles, and so forth. These, I say, have produced a new idea , namely, that the three angles of the triangle are equal to two right angles. This idea is so connected with the first, that it can nei­ ther be, nor be conceived without the same.' Mark well now that although the

q IS . prior·1

r [A continues· And of all Ideas which any one has we make a whole, or (which IS the same) a thing of reason, which we call Understanding ]

Part I, Chapter II 49

new idea is joined to the preceding one, the essence of the preceding idea does not undergo any change in consequence; on the con trary, it remains without the slightest change. The same you may also observe in every idea which produces love in itself th is love in no way adds to the essence of the idea. But why multi­ ply illustrations? since you can see it clearly in the subject wh ich I have been illustrating and which we are discussing now. I have distinctly stated that all at­ tributes, which depend on no other cause, and whose definition requires no genus pertain to the essence of God; and since the created things are not competent to establish an attribute, they do not increase the essence of God, however intimately they become united to him. Add to this, that "whole" is but a thing of Reason, and does not differ from the general except in this alone that the general results from various Disconnected individuals, the Whole, from various United individuals; also in this, that the General only comprises paris of the same kind, but the Whole, parts both the same and different in kind.'

ERASMUS: So far as this is concerned you have satisfied me. But, in addition to th is, you have also said, that the effect of the inner cause cannot perish so long as its cause lasts; th is, I well see, is certa inly true, but if th is is so, then how can God be an inner cause of all things, seeing that many things perish? After your previous distinction you will say, that God is really a cause of the effects which he has fJroduced immediately, without any other conditions except his attributes alone; and that these cannot perish so long as their cause endures; but that you do not call God an inner cause of the effects whose existence does not depend on him immedi­ ately, but which have come into being through some other thing, except insofar as their causes do not operate, and cannot operate, without God, nOT also outside him, and that for this reason also, since they are not produced immediately by God, they can perish. But this does not satisry me. For I see that you conclude, that the human understanding is immortal , because it is a product which God has pro­ duced in himself. Now it is impossible that more than the attributes of God should have been necessary in order to produce such an understanding; for, in order to be a being of such supreme perfection, it must have been created from eternity, just l ike all other things which depend immediately on God. And I have heard you say so, if I am not mistaken. And this being so, how will you reconcile th is without leaving over any difficulties?

THEOPH lLUS: It is true, Erasmus, that the th ings (for the existence of which no other th ing is required, except the attributes of God) which have been created immediately by him have been created from eternity. It is to be remarked, how­ ever, that although in order that a thing may exist there is required a special mod­ ification and a thing beside the attributes of God, for all that, God does not cease to be able to produce a thing immediately. For, of the necessary things which are required to bring things into existence, some are there in order that they should produce the th ing, and others in order that the thing should be capable of being produced. For example, I want to have l ight in a certain room; I kindle a l ight,

s [ 8 . the general results from variOUS unconnected mdlvtduals of the same kmd; but the whole from variOUS connected indiViduals different as well as the same In kmd J

50 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

and this lights up the room through itself; or I open a window [shutter] , now th is act of opening does not itself give l ight, but still i t brings it about that the l ight can enter the room. Likewise in order to set a body in motion another body is required that shalI have alI the motion that is to pass from it to the other. But in order to produce in us an idea of God there is no need for another special th ing that shalI have what is to be produced in us, but only such a body in Nature whose idea is necessary in order to represent God immediately. This you could also have gath­ ered from my remarks: for I said that God is only known through h imself, and not through something else. However, I telI you this, that so long as we have not such a clear idea of God as shalI unite us with him in such a way that it will not let us love anything beside him, we cannot truly say that we are united with God, so as to depend immediately on him. If there is still anyth ing that you may have to ask, leave i t for another time; just now circumstances require me to attend to other matters. Farewell.

ERASMUS: Nothing at present, but I shalI ponder what you have just told me till the next opportunity. God be with you.

CHAPTER III

That God Is a Cause of All Things

We shall now begin to consider those attributes [of God] which we calIed Propia. ] 3 And, first of all, how God is a cause of all things.

Now, we have already said above that one substance cannot produce another; and that God is a being of whom all attributes are predicated; whence it clearly fol­ lows that all other things can by no means be, or be understood, apart from or out­ side him. Wherefore we may say with all reason that God is a cause of all things.

As it is usual to divide the efficient cause in eight divisions, let me, then, in­ quire how and in what sense God is a cause.

First, then, we say that he is an emanative or productive cause of his works; and, insofar as there is activity, an active or operating cause, which we regard as one and the same, because they involve each other.

Secondly, he is an immanent, and not a transeunt cause, since all that he pro­ duces is within h imself, and not outside h im, because there is nothing outside him.

Thirdly, God is a free cause, and not a natural cause, as we shalI make clear and manifest when we come to consider whether God can omit to do what he does, and then it will also be explained wherein true freedom consists.

1 3 The [attributes] followmg are called Propria, because they are only Adjectives, which cannot be understood without theu Substantives. That IS to say, Without them God would indeed be no God, but still d IS not they that constitute God, for they reveal nothmg of the character of a Substance, through whICh alone God eXIsts

Part I, Chapter IV 5 1

Fourthly, God i s a cause through hi1T/1Jelf, and not by accident; th is will become more evident from the discussion on Predestination .

Fifthly, God is a principal cause o{his works which he has created immediately, such as movement in matter, etc . ; in wh ich there is no place for a subsidiary [ in­ strumental ] cause, since this is confined to particular things; as when he dries the sea by means of a strong wind, and so forth in the case of all particular things in Nature.

The subsidiary provoking cause is not [found] in God, because there is nothing outside him to incite him. The predisposing cause, on the other hand, is his per­ fection itself; through it he is a cause of himself, and, consequently, of all other things.

Sixthly, God alone is the first or Initial cause, as is evident from our foregoing proof.

Seventhly, God is also a Universal cause, but only insofar as he produces vari­ ous things; otherwise this can never be predicated of him, as he needs no one in order to produce any results.

Eighthly, God is the proximate cause of the things that are infinite, and im­ mutable, and which we assert to have been created immediately by him, but, in one sense, he is the remote cause of all particular things.

CHAPTER IV

On God's Necessary Activity

We deny that God can omit to do what he does, and we shall also prove it when we treat of Predestination; when we will show that all things necessarily depend on their causes. But, in the second place, this conclusion also follows from the perfection of God; for i t is true, beyond a doubt, that God can make everything just as perfect as it is conceived in his Idea; and just as things that are conceived by him cannot be conceived by him more perfectly than he conceives them, so all things can be made by him so perfect that they cannot come from him in a more perfect condition . Again, when we conclude that God could not have omitted to do what he has done, we deduce this from his perfection; because, in God, it would be an imperfection to be able to omit to do what he does; we do not, how­ ever, suppose that there is a subsidiary provoking cause in God that might have moved him to action, for then he were no God.

But now, again, there is the controversy whether, namely, of all that is in h is Idea, and which he can realise so perfectly, whether, I say, he could omit to re­ alise anything, and whether such an omission would be a perfection in him. Now, we maintain that, since all that happens is done by God, it must therefore neces­ sarily be predetermined by him, otherwise he would be mutable, which would be a great imperfection in him. And as this predetermination by him must be from eternity, in which eternity there is no before or after, it follows irresistibly that God

52 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

could never have predetermined things in any other way than that in which they are determined now, and have been from eternity, and that God could not have been either before or without these determinations. Further, if God should omit to do anyth ing, then he must either have some cause for it, or not; if he has, then it is necessary that he should omit doing it; if he has not, then it is necessary that he should not omit to do it; th is is self-evident. Moreover, in a created th ing it is a perfection to exist and to have been produced by God, for, of all imperfection, nonexistence is the greatest imperfection; and since God desires the welfare and perfection of all things, it would follow that if God desired that a certain thing should not exist, then the welfare and perfection of this th ing must be supposed to consist in its nonexistence, which is self-contradictory. That is why we deny that God can omit to do what he does. Some regard this as blasphemy, and as a bel it­ tl ing of God; but such an assertion results from a misapprehension of what con­ stitutes true freedom; th is is by no means what they think it is, namely, the abil i ty to do or to omit to do something good or evil; but true freedom is only, or no other than [the status of being] the first cause, which is in no way constra ined or coerced by anyth ing else, and wh ich through its perfection alone is the cause of all per­ fection; consequently, if God could omit to do th is, he would not be perfect: for the ability to omit doing some good, or accomplishing some perfection in what he does, can have no place in him, except through defect.

That God alone is the only free cause is, therefore, clear not only from what has just been said, but also from th is, namely, that there is no external cause out­ side him to force or constra in him; all this is not the case with created th ings.

Against this it is argued thus: The good is only good because God wills it, and this being so, he can always bring it about that evil should be good. But such rea­ soning is about as conclusive as if! said: It is because God wills to be God that he is God; therefore it is in h is power not to be God, which is absurdity itself. Fur­ thermore, when people do anything, and they are asked why they do it, their an­ swer is, because it is what justice demands. If the question is then put, why justice, or rather the first cause of all that is just, makes such a demand, then the answer must be, because justice wills it so. But, dear me, I th ink to myself, could Justice really be other than just? By no means, for then it could not be Justice. Those, however, who say that God does all that he does because it is good in it­ self, these, I say, may possibly think that they do not differ from us. But that is far from being the case, since they suppose that there is someth ing before God to which he has duties or obligations, namely, a cause [ through] which [God] de­ s ires that this shall be good, and, again, that that shall be just.

Then comes the further controversy, namely, whether God, supposing all things had been created by h im in some other way from eternity, or had been or­ dered and predetermined to be otherwise than they now are, whether, I say, he would then be just as perfect as he is now. To this it may serve as an answer, that if Nature had, from all eternity, been made different from what it is now, then , from the standpoint of those who ascribe to God will and understanding, it would necessarily follow that God had a different will and a different understanding

PartI , Chapter V 5 3

then, i n consequence of which he would have made i t different; and so we should be compelled to think that God has a different character now from what he had then, and had a different character then from what he has now; so that, if we as­ sume he is most perfect now, we are compelled to say that he would not have been so had he created all things differen tly. All these things, involving as they do pal­ pable absurdities, can in no way be attributed to God, who now, in the past, and unto all eternity, is, has been, and will remain immutable. We prove this also from the definition that we have given of a free cause, wh ich is not one that can do or omit to do anything, but is only such as is not dependent on anything else, so that whatever God does is done and carried into effect by him as the freest cause. If, therefore, he had formerly made things different from what they are now, it would needs follow that he was at one time imperfect, which is false. For, since God is the first cause of all things, there must be someth ing in him, through which he does what he does, and omits not to do it. Since we say that Freedom does not con­ sist in [having the choice of] doing or not doing something, and since we have also shown that that which makes him [God] do anything can be noth ing else than his own perfection , we conclude that, had it not beem that his perfection made him do all this, then the things would not exist, and could not come into existemce, in order to be what they are now. This is just like saying: if God were imperfect them things would be different from what they are now.

So much as regards the first [attribute] ; we shall now pass on to the second at­ tribute, which we call a proprium of God, and see what we have to say about it, and so on to the end.

CHAPTER V

On Divine Providence

The second attribute, which we call a proprium [of God] is his Providence, which to us is nothing else than the striving wh ich we find in the whole of Nature and in individual things to maintain and preserve their own existence. For it is mani­ fest that no thing could, through its own nature, seek its own annihilation, but, on the contrary, that every th ing has in itself a striving to preserve its condition, and to improve itself. Following these definitions of ours we, therefore, posit a gemeral and a special providence. The general [providence] is that through which all things are produced and sustained insofar as they are parts of the whole of Nature. The special providence is the striving of each thing separately to preserve its existence [each thing, that is to say] , considered not as a part of Nature, but as a whole [by itself] . Th is is explained by the following example: All the limbs of man are pro­ vided for, and cared for, insofar as they are parts of man, this is gemeral providence; while special [providence] is the striving of each separnte l imb (as a whole in it­ self, and not as a part of man) to preserve and ma intain its own well-being.

54 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

CHAPTER VI

On Divine Predestination

The third attribute, we say, is divine predestination . \ . We proved before that God cannot omit to do what he does; that he has,

namely, made everything so perfect that it cannot be more perfect. 2. And, at the same time, that without him nothing can be, or be conceived. I t rema ins to be seen now whether there are in Nature any accidental things,

that is to say, whether there are any things which may happen and may also not happen. Secondly, whether there is any thing concerning which we cannot ask why it is.

Now that there are no accidental things we prove thus: That which has no cause to exist cannot possibly exist; that which is accidental has no cause: therefore . . .

The first is beyond all dispute; the second we prove thus: If any thing that is ac­ cidental has a definite and certa in cause why it should exist, then it must neces­ sarily exist; but that it should be both accidental and necessary at the same time, is self-contradictory; Therefore . . .

Perhaps some one will say, that an accidental thing has indeed no definite and certa in cause, but an accidental one. If th is should be so, it must be so ei­ ther in sensu diviso or in sensu composito, that is to say, either the existence of the cause is accidental , and not its being a cause; or it is accidental that a cer­ ta in th ing (which indeed must necessarily exist in Nature) should be the cause of the occurrence of that accidental th ing. However, both the one and the other are false.

For, as regards the first, if the accidental something is accidental because [the existence of] its cause is accidental, then that cause must also be accidental , be­ cause the cause which has produced it is also accidental , et sic in infinitum.

And since it has already been proved, that all things depend on one single cause, this cause would therefore also have to be accidental : which is manifestly false.

As regards the second: if the cause were no more compelled to produce one thing than another, that is, [if the cause were no more compelled] to produce this something than not to produce it, then it would be impossible at once both that it should produce it and that it should not produce it, which is quite contradictory.

Concerning the second [question raised] above, whether there is no thing in Na­ ture about which one cannot ask why it is, this remark of ours shows that we have to inquire through what cause a thing is real; for if this [cause] did not exist it were impossible that the thing should exist. Now, we must look for this cause either in the th ing or outside the thing. If, however, any one should ask for a rule whereby to conduct this inquiry, we say that none whatever seems necessary. For if exis­ tence pertains to the nature of a thing, then it is certain that we must not look out-

Part I, Chapter VI 5 5

side i t for its cause; but i f such i s not the case, then w e must always look outside the thing for its cause. Since, however, the first pertains to God alone, it is thereby proved (as we have already also proved before) that God alone is the first cause of all things. From this it is also evident that this or that will of man (since the exis­ tence of the will does not pertain to its essence) must also have an external cause, by which it is necessarily caused; that this is so is also evident from all that we have said in this chapter; and it will be still more evident when, in the second part, we come to consider and discuss the freedom of man.

Against all this others object: how is it possible that God, who is said to be supremely perfect, and the sole cause, disposer, and provider of all, nevertheless permits such confusion to be seen everywhere in Nature? Also, why has he not made man so as not to be able to sin?

Now, in the first place, it cannot be rightly said that there is confusion in Na­ ture, since nobody knows all the causes of things so as to be able to judge accord­ ingly. Th is objection, however, originates in this kind of ignorance, namely, that they have set up general Ideas, with which, they think, particular things must agree if they are to be perfect. These Ideas, they state, are in the understanding of God, as many of Plato's followers have said, namely, that these general Ideas (such as Rational , Animal , and the l ike) have been created by God; and although those who follow Aristotle say, indeed, that these things are not real things, only things of Reason, they nevertheless regard them frequently as [real ] things, since they have clearly said that his providence does not extend to particular things, but only to kinds; for example, God has never exercised h is providence over Bucephalus, etc. , but only over the whole genus Horse. They say also that God has no knowl­ edge of particular and transient things, but only of the general, which, in their opinion, are imperishable. We have, however, rightly considered th is to be due to their ignorance. For it is precisely the particular things, and they alone, that have a cause, and not the general, because they are nothing.

God then is the cause of, and providence over, particular things only. If par­ ticular things had to conform to some other Nature, then they could not conform to their own , and consequently could not be what they truly are. For example, if God had made all human beings l ike Adam before the fall , then indeed he would only have created Adam, and no Paul nor Peter; but no, it is just perfection in God, that he gives to all things, from the greatest to the least, their essence, or, to express it better, that he has all things perfectly in himself.

As regards the other [objection] , why God has not made mankind so that they should not sin, to this it may serve [as an answer] , that whatever is said about sin is only sa id with reference to us, that is, as when we compare two things with each other, or [consider one thing] from different points of view. For instance, if some­ one has made a clock preCisely in order to strike and to show the hours, and the mechanism quite fulfils the aims of its maker, then we say that it is good, but if it does not do so, then we say that it is bad, notwithstanding that even then it might still be good if only it had been h is intention to make it irregular and to strike at wrong times.

56 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

We say then , in conclusion, that Peter must, as is necessary, conform to the Idea of Peter, and not to the Idea of Man; good and evil, or sin, these are only modes of thought, and by no means thing., or anything that has reality, as we shall very l ikely show yet more fully in what follows. For all things and works which are in Nature are perfect.

CHAPTER VII

On the Attributes Which Do Not Pertain to God

Here we shall take up the consideration ofthose attributes 14 which are commonly attributed to God, but which, nevertheless, do not pertain to him; as also of those through which it is sought to prove the existence of God, though in vain; and also of the rules of accurate definition.

For th is purpose, we shall not trouble ourselves very much about the ideas that people commonly have of God, but we shall only inquire briefly into what the Philosophers can tell us about it Now these have defined God as a being existing through or of himself. cause of all things, Omniscient, Almighty, eternal, simple, infinite, the highest good, of infinite compassion, etc. But before we approach th is inquiry, let us just see what admissions they make to us.

In the first place, they say that it is impossible to give a true or right definition of God, because, according to their opinion, there can be no definition except per genus et differentiam, and as God is not a species of any genus, he cannot be de­ fined rightly, or according to the rules.

In the second place, they say that God cannot be defined, because the defini­ tion must describe the thing itself and also positively; while, according to their standpoint, our knowledge of God cannot be of a positive, but only of a negative kind; therefore no proper definition can be given of God.

They also say, besides, that God can never be proved a priori, because he has no cause, but only by way of probability, or from his effects.

Since by these assertions of theirs they admit sufficiently that their knowledge of God is very little and sligh� let us now proceed to examine their definition.

In the first place, we do not see that they give us in it any attribute or attributes through which it can be known what the th ing (God) is, but only some propria or

1 4 As regards the attnbutes of which God consISts, they are only mfinite substances, each of which must of Itself be mflnttely perfect. That thiS rrrust necessanly be so, we are conVinced by clear and diStinct reasons. It IS true, however, that up to the present only two of all these mfinites are known to us through their own essence; and these are thought and extension. All else that IS commonly ascribed to God is not any attribute of hts, but only certam modes which may be attributed to him either in conslderahon of all. that IS, all hIS attributes, or In conSideratIOn of one attnbute. In con� sideratlon of alL [ It IS said] , for instance, that he IS eternal, self�subsisting, infmlte, cause of all things, Immutable. In consideration of one [ It IS said ] , for mstance, that he IS ommsclent, Wise, etc ., which pertams to thought, and, agam, that he IS ommpresent, hi ls all, etc , whICh pertains to extension.

Part I, Chapter VII 57

properties which do, indeed, belong to a thing, but never explain what the thing is. For although sel(-subsisting, being the ceruse of all things, highest good, eternal and immutable, etc. , are peculiar to God alone, nevertheless, from those proper­ ties we cannot know what that being, to whom these properties pertain, is, and what attributes he has.

It is now also time for us to consider the things which they ascribe to God, and which do no� however, pertain to him, 1 5 such as omniscient, merciful, wise, and so forth, which things, since they are only certain modes of the thinking th ing, and can by no means be, or be understood without the substances whose modes they are, can, consequently, also not be attributed to him, who is a Being subsist­ ing without the aid of anything, and solely through himself

Lastly, they call him the highest good; but if they understand by it something different from what they have already said, namely, that God is immutable, and a cause of all things, then they have become entangled in their own thought, or are unable to understand themselves. This is the outcome of their misconception of good and evil , for they believe that man himself, and not God, is the cause of h is sins and wickedness-which, according to what we have already proved, cannot be the case, else we should be compelled to assert that man is also the cause of himself. However, this will appear yet more evident when we come to consider the will of man.

I t is necessary that we should now unravel their specious arguments wherewith they seek to excuse their ignorance in Theology.

First of all, then , they say that a correct definition must consist of a "genus" and "differentia." Now, although all the Logicians admit this, I do not know where they get it from. And, to be sure, if this must be true, then we can know nothing what­ ever. For if it is through a definition consisting of genus and differentia that we can first get to know a thing perfectly, then we can never know perfectly the highest genus, wh ich has no genus above it. Now then: If the h ighest genus, which is the cause of our knowledge of all other things, is not known, much less, then, can the other things be understood or known which are explained by that genus. How­ ever, since we are free, and do not consider ourselves in any way tied to their as­ sertions, we shall, in accordance with true logic, propose other rules of definition , namely, on the l ines of our division of Nature.

Now we have already seen that the attributes (or, as others call them, sub. stances) are things, or, to express ourselves better and more aptly, [constitute] a being which subsists through itself, and therefore makes itself known and reveals itself through itself.

As to the other th ings, we see that they are but modes of the attributes, without which also they can neither be, nor be understood. Consequently definitions must be of two kinds (or sorts):

l. The first, namely, are those of attributes, which pertain to a self .. ubsisting being, these need no genus, or anyth ing, through which they might be better un-

1 5 That IS to say, when he is conSidered as all that he IS, or wdh regard to all hiS attributes, see on this pomt page 56 n. 14

58 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

derstood or explained: for, since they exist as attributes of a self-subsisting being, they also become known through themselves.

2. The second [kind of definitions] are those [of things] which do not exist through themselves, but only through the attributes whose modes they are, and through which, as their genus, they must be understood.

And this is [all that need be said] concerning their statement about definitions. As regards the other [assertion ] , namely, that God can [not] be known by us ade­ quately, this has been sufficiently answered by D. des Cartes in h is answers to the objections relating to these thing., page 39.

And the third [assertion] , namely, that God cannot be proved a priori, has also already been answered by us. Since God is the cause of himself , it is enough that we prove him through h imself, and such a proof is also much more conclusive than the a posteriori proof, which generally rests only on external causes.

CHAPTER VIII

On Natura Naturans

Here, before we proceed to something else, we shall briefly divide the whole of Nature-namely, into Natura naturans and Natura naturata. By Natura naturans we understand a being that we conceive clearly and distinctly through itself, and without needing anything beside itself (like all the attributes which we have so far described) , that is, God. The Thomists l ikewise understand God by it, but their Natura naturans was a being (so they called it) beyond all substances.

The Natura naturata we shall divide into two, a general, and a particular. The general consists of all the modes which depend immediately on God, of which we shall treat in the following chapter; the partic:ular consists of all the particular things which are produced by the general mode. So that the Natura naturata re­ quires some substance in order to be well understood.

CHAPTER IX

On Natura NatuTata

Now, as regards the general Natura naturata, or the modes, or creations which de­ pend on, or have been created by, God immediately, of these we know no more than two, namely, motion in matter, 16 and the understanding in the thinking thing.

16 Note.-What is here said about motion m matter IS not satd senously. For the Author stili mtends to dIScover the cause thereof, as he has already done to some extent a posten on. But It can stand lust as It IS, because nothing IS based upon d, or dependent thereon [B omits tius note ]

Part I, Chapter X 59

These, then, we say, have been from alI eternity, and to alI eternity will remain immutable. A work truly as great as becomes the greatness of the work-master.

All that specialIy concerns Motion, such as that it has been from all eternity, and to all eternity will remain immutable; that it is infinite in its kind; that it can neither be, nor be understood through itself, but only by means of Extension, -alI th is, I say, since it [Motion] more properly belongs to a treatise on Natural Sci­ ence rather than here, we shall not consider in this place, but we shall only say this about it, that it is a Son, Product, or Effect created immediately by God.

As regards the Understanding in the th inking thing, this, l ike the first, is also a Son, Product, or immediate Creation of God, also created by him from all eternity, and remaining immutable to alI eternity. It has but one function , namely, to un­ derstand clearly and distinctly all things at all times; which produces invariably an infinite or most perfect satisrnction, which cannot omit to do what it does. Al­ though what we have just said is sufficiently self-evident, still , we shall prove it more clearly afterwards in our account of the Mfects of the Soul , and shall there­ fore say no more about i t here.

CHAPTER X

What Good and Evil Are

In order to explain briefly what good and evil are in themselves, we shall begin thus: Some things are in our understanding and not in Nature, and so they are also

only our own creation, and their purpose is to understand things distinctly: among these we include alI relations, which have reference to different things, and these we calI Entia Rationis [ th ings of reason] . Now the question is, whether good and evil belong to the Entia Rationis or to the Entia Realia [real things ] . But since good and evil are only relations, it is beyond doubt that they must be placed among the Entia Rationis; for we never say that something is good except with reference to something else which is not so good, or is not so useful to us as some other thing. Thus we say that a man is bad, only in comparison with one who is better, or also that an apple is bad, in comparison with another which is good or better.

All th is could not possibly be sa id, if that which is better or good, in compari­ son with which it [ the bad] is so calIed, did not exist

Therefore, when we say that something is good, we only mean that it conforms well to the general Idea wh ich we have of such things. But, as we have already said before, the things must agree with their particular Ideas, whose essence must be a perfect essence, and not with the general [Ideas] , since in that case they would not exist.

As to confirming what we have just sa id, the thing is clear to us; but stil l , to conclude our remarks, we will add yet the folIowing proofs:

All things which are in Nature, are either things or actions. Now good and evil are neither things nor actions. Therefore good and evil do not exist in Nature.

60 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

For, if good and evil are things or actions, then they must have their definitions. But good and evil (as, for example, the goodness of Peter and the wickedness of Judas) have no definitions apart from the essence of Judas or Peter, because this alone exists in Nature, and they cannot be defined without their essence. There­ fore, as above- it follows that good and evil are not things or actions which exist in Nature.

SECOND PART

ON MAN AND WHAT PERTAINS TO HIM

PREFACE

Having, in the first part, discoursed on God, and on the universal and infinite things, we shall proceed now, in the second part, to the treatment of particular and finite things; though not of all, since they are innumerable, but we shall only treat of those which concern man; and, in the fill>t place, we shall consider here what man is, insofar as he consists of certain modes (contained in the two attrib­ utes which we have remarked in God). I say of certa in modes, for I by no means think that man, insofar as he consists of spirit, soul , l or body, is a substance. Be­ cause, already at the beginning of this book, we proved ( I ) that no substance can

1. Our soul IS eIther asubstance or a mode, It IS not a substance, because we have alreadyshown that there can be no finite substance; It is therefore a mode.

2. Being a mode, then, It rrrust be such either of "substantial" extension or of "substantial" thought; not of extension, because, etc ; therefore of thought

3. "Substantial" thought, since It cannot be fmde, is infinitely perfect tn Its kind, and an atR tribute of God.

4. Perfect thought ITllst have a Knowledge, Idea, or mode of thought of all and everything that is real, of substances as well as of modes, without exception.

5 . We say, that is real, because we are not speakmg here of a Knowledge, Idea, etc , which com­ pletely knows the nature of all thmgs as mvolved m thetr essence, apart from their mdlvidual eXIs­ tence, but only of the Knowledge, Idea, etc., of the particular thmgs which are constantly coming into existence.

6. This Knowledge, Idea, etc., of each parhcular thmg which happens to be real IS, we say, the soul of this particular thmg.

7. Al l and sundry parhcular things that are real, have become such through motion and rest, and thIS is true of all them does of "subs tan hal" extension which we call bodies.

8. The differences among these result solely from the varying proportions of mohon and rest, through which thiS IS so, and not so-this IS this, and not that.

9. From such proportion of motion and rest comes also the existence of OUT body; of which,

Part II, Preface 6 1

have a beginning; ( 2 ) that one substance cannot produce another; and lastly ( 3 ) , that there cannot be two like substances.

As man has not been in existence from eternity, is finite, and is l ike many men , he can be no substance; so that all that he has of thought are only modes of the at­ tribute thought which we have attributed to God. And, again, all that he has of form, motion, and other things, are likewise [modes] of the other attribute which is attributed by us to God.

And although from this, [namely,] that the nature of man can neither be, nor be understood without the attributes which we ourselves admit to constitute sub­ stance, some try to prove that man is a substance, yet this has no other ground than false suppositions. For, since the nature of matter or body existed before the form of this human body existed, that nature cannot be pecul iar to the human body, because it is clear that during the time when man was not, it could never belong to the nature of man.

And what they set up as a fundamental principle, [namely,] that that pertains to the nature of a thing, without which the thing can neither be, nor be understood, we deny. For we have already shown that without God no thing can be or be understood. That is, God must first be and be understood before these particular things can be and be understood. We have also shown that genera do not belong to the nature of definition, but that only such things as cannot exist without others, can also not be understood without these. This being so, what kind of a rule shall we, then, state, whereby it shall be known what belongs to the nature of a thing?

consequently, no less than of all other thmgs there rrrust be a Knowledge, an Idea, etc ., In the thmkM tog thmg, and hence at once also our 8oul.

10 . ThIS body of ours, however, had a dIfferent proportion of mohon and rest when it was an unborn embryo; and In due course, when we are dead, d wtll have a different proportion agam, nonetheless there was at that time [before our blrthl , and there will be then [after death] an Idea, knowledge, etc., of our body In the thmkmg thmg, Just as there IS now; but by no means the same [idea, etc . ] , since It IS now differently proporhoned as regards mohon and rest.

1 1 To produce, In "substantial" thought, such an Idea, knowledge, mode of thought as ours now IS, what IS required IS, not anybody you please (then It would have to be known dIfferently from what is It), but just such a body havmg thIS proportIon of mohon and rest, and no other: for as the body IS, so lS the Soul, Idea, Knowledge, etc.

1 2 . As soon, then, as a body has and retams this proportIon [which our body has], say e.g., of I to 3 , then that soul and that body wtll be hke ours now are, bemg indeed constantly subJect to change, but to none so great that d wlil exceed the Inruts of 1 to 3; though as ITI1.Ich as it changes, so much also does the soul always change.

1 3 . And thlS change m us, resultmg from other bodies acting upon us, cannot take place With­ out the soul, whIch always changes correspondmgly, becommg aware of the change. And [ the con­ sciousness ofj thlS change IS really what we call feehng.

14. But when other bodies act so violently upon ours that the proportIon of mohon [ to rest] can­ not remain 1 to 3 , that means death, and the anmhdabon of the Soul, smce thiS is only an Idea, Knowledge, etc , of thlS body havmg this proporhon of motion and rest.

15 Still, sInce It [ the soul] lS a mode m the thmkmg substance It could also know, and love this [substance] as well as that of extension, and by umhng With substances (which remain always the same) it could make Itself eternal

62 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

Well , the rule is th is: That belongs to the nature of a thing, without which the thing can neither be, nor be understood; not merely so, however, but in such wise that the judgment must be convertible, that is, that the predicate can neither be, nor be understood without the thing. Of these modes, then, of which man con­ sists, we shall begin to treat at the commencement of the following first chapter.

CHAPTER I

On Opinion, Bel ief, and Knowledge

To begin our consideration of the modes2 of which man consists, we shall state, ( I ) what they are, (2) their effects, and (3) their cause.

As regards the first, let us begin with those that are first known to us: namely, certain ideas or the consciousness of the Imowledge of ourselves, and of the things which are outside us.

Now we get these ideas' ( I ) either merely through belief (which belief arises either from experience, or from hearsay), (2) or, in the second place, we acquire them by way of a true belief, (3) or, thirdly, we have them as the result of clear and distinct conception .

The first i s commonly subject to error. The second and th ird, however, although they differ from one another, can­

not err. To make all this somewhat clearer and more intelligible, we shall give the fol­

lowing illustration taken from the Rule of Three. Some one· has just heard i t said that if, in the Rule of Three, the second num­

ber is multipl ied by the third, and then divided by the first, a fourth number will then be obtained which has the same relation to the third as the second has to the first And notwithstanding the possibil ity that he who put this before h im might have been lying, he still made his calculations accordingly, and he did so without having acquired any more knowledge of the Rule of Three than a bl ind man has of colour, so that whatever he may have said about it, he simply repeated as a par­ rot repeats what it has been taught.

Another,S having a more active in telligence, is not so easily satisfied with mere hearsay, but tests i t by some actual calculations, and when he finds that they agree

Z The modes of which Man consists are ideas, differentiated as OptnlOn, true Belief, and clear and dIStinct Knowledge, produced by obJ ects, each In Its own way.

'3 These ideas of thIS Behef are put first on page 63; here and there they are also called Opinion. which they really are.

4 TIllS one merely forrns an opmton, or, as IS commonlysatd, believes through hearsay only. [8 omits thIS note.]

5 This one thmks or believes not Simply through hearsay, but from expenence. and these are the two kmds ofpeople who have [mere] opinions. [8 orruts thIS note 1

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with it, then he gives credence to it. But we have rightly said that th is one also is subject to error; for how can he possibly be sure that h is experience of a few par­ ticulars can serve him as a rule for all?

A third,6 who is not satisfied with hearsay, because it may deceive, nor with ex­ perience of a few particulars, because this cannot possibly serve as a rule, exam­ ines i t in the l ight of true Reason, which, when properly appl ied, has never deceived. This then tells him that on account of the nature of the proportion in these numbers it had to be so, and could not happen otherwise.

A fourth? however, having the clearest knowledge of all, has no need of hearsay, or experience, or the art of reasoning, because by his penetration he sees the proportion in all such calculations immediately.

CHAPTER II

What Opinion, Belief, and Clear Knowledge Are

We come now to the consideration of the effects of the different grades of know 1- edge, of which we spoke in the preceding chapter, and, in passing as it were, we shall explain what Opinion, Belief, and clear Knowledge are.

The first [kind of know led gel , then, we call Opinion, the second Belie{, but the third is what we call clear Knowledge.

We call it Opinion because it is subject to error, and has no place when we are sure of anything, but only in those cases when we are said to guess and to surmise. The second we call Belief, because the things we apprehend only with our reason are not seen by us, but are only known to us through the conviction of our un­ derstanding that it must be so and not otherwise. But we call that clear Knowledge which comes, not from our being convinced by reasons, but from our feel ing and enjoying the thing itself, and it surpasses the others by fur.

After these prel iminary remarks let us now turn to their effects. Of these we say this, namely, that from the first proceed all the "passions" which are opposed to good reason; from the second, the good desires; and from the third, true and sin­ cere Love, with all its offshoots.

We thus maintain that Knowledge is the proximate cause of all the "passions' in the soul . For we consider it once for all impossible that any one, who neither thinks nor knows in any of the preceding ways and modes, should be capable of being incited to Love or Desire or any other mode of Will .

6 TIllS one IS certam through true belief, which can never deceive him, and he IS properly called a believer.

7 But this last one is never [merely] of OpIniOn, nor a [mere] belIever, but sees the thmgs themselves, not through somethmg else, but through the thmgs themselves

64 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

CHAPTER III

The Origin of Passion. Passion Due to Opinion

Here, then, let us see how, as we have said, the passions derive their origin from opinion. To do th is well and intelligently we shall take some special ones, and prove what we say by using these as illustrations.

Let Surprise, then, be the first. This is found in one who knows a thing after the first manner [of Knowledge] ; for, since from a few particulars he draws a con­ clusion which is general, he stands surprised whenever he sees anything that goes against his conclusion;8 l ike one who, having never seen any sheep except with short tails, is surprised at the sheep from Morocco wh ich have long ones. So it is related of a peasant that he had persuaded h imself that beyond h is fields there were no others, but when he happened to miss a cow, and was compelled to go and look for her fur away, he was surprised at the great number of fields that there were beyond h is few acres. And, to be sure, th is must also be the case with many Philosophers who have persuaded themselves that beyond th is field or l ittle globe, on which they are, there are no more [worlds] (because they have seen no others). But surprise is never fel t by him who draws true inferences. This is the first.

The second is Love." Since this arises either from true ideas, or from opinion, or, lastly, from hearsay only, we shall see first how [ i t arises] from opinion, then

8 11us should on no account be taken to mean that a formal mference rrrust always precede aston­ ishment; on the contrary. It eXIsts also Without that, namely, when we tacitly believe that a thmg IS [always] so, and not different from what we are accustomed to see d, hear or think about it, etc. For example, Anstotle says, a dog IS a barking animal, therefore he concludes, whatever barks is a dog, but when a peasant says a dog, he means tacitly lust the same that Anstotle did wdh his deftndion So that when the peasant hears the barktng he says, a dog, and so, If they had heard some other kmd of antmal bark, the peasant, who had drawn no [explicit] mference, would stand just as astontshed as ArIstotle, who had drawn an mference Furthermore, when we become aware of somethmg about which we had never thought before, It IS not really such the like of WhiCh, whether as a whole or m part, we have not known before, only d IS not so constituted m all respects, or we have never been affected by It 10 the same way, etc

a [The substance of the next three paragraphs IS given m the following Simpler order 10 B . The second IS Love. Thls anses either, 1 , from hearsay, or 2, from opmlOn, or 3 , from true ideas. As regards the fust, we generally observe It m the attitude of children to their father. because

their father tells them this or that IS good they mchne towards d, without knowmg anythmg more about it. We see It also m those who, from Love. gIVe their lives for the Fatherland, and also in those who from hearsay about something fall m love With d.

As regards the second, It IS certam that whenever any one sees, or thinks he sees, somethmg good, he IS always mclmed to UDite himself With It, and, for the sake of the good which he discerns therein, he chooses It as the best, outside which he then knows nothmg better or more agreeable Yet If ever It happens (as It mostly does happen 10 these thmgs) that he gets to know somethmg bet-

Part II, Chapter III 65

how [it arises] from [ true] ideas; for the first tends to our ruin, and the second to our supreme happiness; and then [we shall see how it arises] from the last.

A:; regards the first, it is certa in that whenever any one sees, or thinks he sees, something good, he is always inclined to unite h imself with it, and, for the sake of the good which he discerns therein, he chooses i t as the best, outside which he then knows nothing better or more agreeable. Yet if ever it happens (as it mostly does happen in these things) that he gets to know something better than this good at present known to him, then his love changes immediately from the one (first) to the other (second). All this we shall show more clearly when we treat of the freedom of man.

A:; to love from true ideas,9 since this is not the place to speak of it, we shall pass it over now, and speak of the third, and last, namely, the Love that comes from hearsay only. This we generally observe in the attitude of ch ildren to their father: because their father tells them that this or that is good they incl ine towards i� without knowing anything more about it. We see it also in those who from Love give their lives for the Fatherland, and also in those who from hearsay about some­ thing fall in love with it.

Next, Hatred, the exact opposite oflove, arises from error which is the outcome of opinion. For when some one has come to the conclusion that a certain thing is good, and another happens to do something to the detriment of the same th ing, then there arises in him a hatred against the one who did it, and this, as we shall explain afterwards, could never happen if the true good were known . For, in com­ parison with the true good, all indeed that is, or is conceived, is naught but wretchedness itself; and is not such a lover of what is wretched much more de­ serving of pity than of hatred?

Hatred, lastly, comes also from mere hearsay, as we see it in the Turks against Jews and Christians, in the Jews against the Turks and Christians, in the Chris­ tians against the Jews and Turks, etc. For, among all these, how ignorant is the one mul titude of the religion and morals of the others !

Desire. Whether (as some will have it) it consists only in a longing or incl ina­ tion to obtain what is wanting, or (as others will have itlO) to retain the thing. which we already enjoy, it is certa in that it cannot be found to have come upon any one except for an apparent good [sub specie boni] . It is therefore clear that De­ sire, as also Love wh ich we have already discussed, is the outcome of the first kind of knowledge. For if any one has heard that a certa in th ing is good, he feels a long­ ing and incl ination for the same, as may be seen in the case of an invalid who,

ter than this good at present known to hlln, then hIS love changes immediately from the one (fust) to the other (second) All thIS we shall show more clearly when we treat of the freedom of man

As to love from true Ideas, as this IS not the place to speak of it, we shall pass It over for the pres­ ent. [See note 9 below. ]

9 Love that comes from true ideas or clear knowledge IS not considered here, as it IS not the outcome of opinion; see, however, chapter xxii about It.

10 The rust defmthon IS the best, because when the thmg IS enJoyed the desire ceases, the form [of conscIOusness] which then prompts us to retam the thing IS not desire, but a fear of losmg the thing loved.

66 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

through hearing the doctor say that such or such a remedy is good for his ailment, at once longs for the same, and feels a desire for it.

Desire arises also from experience, as may be seen in the practice of doctors, who when they have found a certain remedy good several times are wont to re­ gard it as something unfailing.

All that we have just said of these, the same we can say of all other passions, as is clear to everyone. And as, in what follows, we shall begin to inquire which of them are rational, and which of them are irrational, we shalI leave the subject now, and say no more about it.

What has now been said of these few though most important [passions] can also be said of all others; and with this we conclude the subject of the Passions which arise from Opinion.

CHAPTER IV

What Comes from Belief; and on the Good and Evil of Man

Since we have shown in the preceding chapter how the Passions arise from the error of Opinion, let us now see here the effects of the two other modes of Know­ ing. And first of all, [the effect] of what we have called True Bel ief. I I

This shows us, indeed, what a th ing ought to be, but not what it really is. And this is the reason why it can never unite us with the object of our bel ief I say, then, that i t only teaches us what the thing ought to be, and not what i t is; be­ tween these two there is a great difference. For, as we remarked ii propos of the example taken from the rule of three, when any one can, by the aid of propor­ tion, find a fourth number that shall be related to the third as the second is to the first, then (having used division and multiplication) he can say that the four numbers must be proportional ; and although that is so, he speaks of it nonethe­ less as of a thing that is beyond him. But when he comes to see the proportion in the way which we have shown in the fourth example, then he says with truth that the thing is so, because then it is in him and not beyond him. Let this suf­ fice as regards the first [effect].

1 1 Behef ts 3 strong proof based on Reasons, whereby I am convmced in my rrund that the thmg ts re­ ally, and Just such, outside my understandmg, as I am convinced In my rrund that It IS. I say, a strong proofbased on Reasons, in order thereby to distinguISh It both from OplntOn, which ts always doubt­ ful and hable to error, and from Knowledge which does not consISt In bemg convlDced by Rea­ sons, but in an Immediate union wdh the thtng itself. I say, that the thing is really and just such outside my understanding-really, because reasons cannot deceive me in thIS, for otherwise they would not be different from opinIOn lust such, for It can only tell me what the thmg ought to be, and not what It really is, otherwise It would not be different from Knowmg Outside, for it makes us enJoy mtellectually not what IS m us, but what IS outside us

Part II, Chapter IV 67

The second effect of true bel ief is that it brings us to a clearer understanding, through which we love God, and thus it makes us intellectually aware of the things which are not in us, but outside us.

The third effect is, that it gives us the knowledge of good and evil, and shows us all the passions which should be suppressed. And as we have already said that the passions which come from opinion are l iable to great evil, it is worth the pains to see how these also are sifted out by this second kind of knowledge, so that we may see what is good and what is bad in them.

To do so conveniently, let us, using the same method as before, look at them closely, so that we may know through it wh ich of them should be chosen and which rejected . But, before proceeding to this, let us first state briefly what is the good and evil of man.

We have already said before that all things are necessarily what they are, and that in Nature there is no good and no evil. So that whatever we want man to be [in this respect] must refer to his kind, which is nothing else than a thing of Rea­ son. And when we have conceived in our mind an Idea of a perfect man, it should make us look (when we examine ourselves) to see whether we have any means of attaining to such perfection .

Hence, then, whatever advances us towards perfection, we call good, and, on the contrary, what hinders, or also what does not advance us towards it, bad.

I must therefore, I say, conceive a perfect man, if[ want to assert anything con­ cerning the good and evil of man, because if I were to consider the good and evil of some individual man, say, e.g., of Adam, I should be confusing a real thing (ens reale) with a th ing of Reason (ens Rationis), which must be most scrupulously avoided by an upright Philosopher, for reasons which we shall state in the sequel, or on another occasion. Furthermore, since the destiny of Adam, or of any other individual creature, is not known to us except through the result, so it follows that what we can say even of the destiny of man must be based on the idea which our understanding forms ofa perfect man, 1 2 which destiny, since it is a thing of Rea­ son, we may well know; so also, as already remarked, are good and evil, which are only modes of thinking.

To come gradually to the point: We have already pointed out before how the movement, passions, and activities of the soul arise from ideas, and these ideas we have divided into four kinds, namely, [according as they are based on] mere hearsay, experience, belief, clear knowledge. And from what we have now seen of the effects of all these, it is evident that the fourth, namely, clear knowledge, is the most perfect of all. For opinion often leads us into error. True belief is good only because it is the way to true knowledge, and awakens us to things which are really lovable. So that the final end that we seek, and the highest that we know, is true knowledge. But even this true knowledge varies with the objects that come before it: the better the object is with which it happens to unite itself, so much the bet-

1 2 For from no mdlvidual creature can one derive an Idea that IS perfect; for the perfectIOn of thlS ob­ Ject Itself, [that 1S,J whether It IS really perfect or not, cannot be deduced except from a general per­ fect Idea, or Ens Rationis

68 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

ter also is this knowledge. And, for this reason, he is the most perfect man who is united with God (who is the most perfect being of all ) , and so enjoys him.

Now, in order to find out what is good and bad in the affects or passions, let us, as suggested, take them one by one. And first of all , Surprise. This, since it arises either from ignorance or prejudice, is an imperfection in the man who is subject to this perturbance. I say an imperfection, because, through itself, surprise does not lead to any evil.

CHAPTER V

On Love

Love, which is noth ing else than the enjoyment of a th ing and union therewith, we shall divide according to the qualities of its object, the object, that is, which man seeks to enjoy, and to unite himself with.

Now some objects are in themselves transient; others, indeed, are not transien t by virtue of their cause. There is yet a third that is eternal and imperishable through its own power and might.

The transient are all the particular things which did not exist from all time, or have had a beginning.

The others are all those modesb wh ich we have stated to be the cause of the particular modes.

But the th ird is God, or, what we regard as one and the same, Truth. Love, then, arises from the idea and knowledge that we have of a thing; and ac­

cording as the thing shows itself greater and more gloriOUS, so also is our love greater. In two ways i t is possible to free ourselves from love: either by getting to know

something better, or by discovering that the loved object, which is held by us to be something great and glorious, brings in its train much woe and disaster.

I t is also characteristic of love that we never think of emancipating ourselves from it (as from surprise and other passions); and this for the following two rea­ sons: ( I ) because it is impossible, (2) because it is necessary that we should not be released from the same.

I t is impossible because it does not depend on us, but only on the good and use­ ful which we discern in the object; it is necessary that these should never have be­ come known to us, if we would not or should not love it, and this is not a matter of our free choice, or dependent on us, for if we knew nothing, i t is certain that we should also be nothing.

It is necessary that we should not be released from it, because, owing to the weakness of our nature, we could not exist without enjoying something with which we become united, and from which we draw strength.

b [B: the general modes J

Part II, Chapter V 69

Now which of these three kinds of objects are we to choose or to reject? As regards the traTlllient (since, as remarked, we must, owing to the weakness

of our nature, necessarily love someth ing and become united with it in order to exist) , it is certa in that our nature becomes nowise strengthened through our lov­ ing, and becoming united with , these, for they are weak themselves, and the one cripple cannot carry the other. And not only do they not advance us, but they are even harmful to us. For we have said that love is a union with the ob;ect which OUT understanding ;udges to be good and glorious; and by this we mean such a union whereby both the lover and what is loved become one and the same thing, or to­ gether constitute one whole. He, therefore, is indeed always wretched who is united to transient things. For, since these are beyond his power, and subject to many accidents, it is impossible that, when they are affected, he should be free from these affects. And, consequently, we conclude: If those who love transient things that have some measure of reality are so wretched, how wretched must they be who love honour, riches, and pleasures, which have no reality whatever!

Let this suffice to show us how Reason teaches us to keep away from things so fleeting. For what we have just said shows us clearly the poison and the evil which lurk concealed in the love of these things. But we see this yet incomparably clearer when we observe from what glorious and excellent a good we are kept away through the enjoyment of this.

We said before that the things which are transient are beyond our power. But let us be well understood; we do not mean to say that we are a free cause de­ pending upon nothing else; only when we say that some things are in, others be­ yond our power, we mean by those that are in our power such as we can produce through the order of or together with Nature, of which we are a part; by those which are not in our power, such as, being outside us, are not liable to suffer any change through us, because they are very fur removed from our real essence as thus fashioned by Nature.

To proceed, we come now to the second kind of objects, which though eter­ nal and imperishable, are not such through their own power. However, if we in­ stitute a brief inquiry here, we become immediately aware that these are only mere modes which depend immediately on God. And since the nature of these is such, they cannot be conceived by us unless we, at the same time, have a con­ ception of God. In this, since he is perfect, our Love must necessarily rest. And, to express it in a word, if we use our understanding aright it will be impossible for us not to love God.

The Reasons why, are clear. First of all, because we find that God alone has essence only, and all other things are not essences but modes. And since the modes cannot be rightly understood without the entity on which they immedi­ ately depend; and [as] we have already shown before that if, when loving some­ thing, we get to know a better thing than that which we then love, we always prefer i t immediately, and forsake the first; it follows, therefore, incontrovertibly that when we get to know God, who has all perfection in h imself, we must nec­ essarily love him.

70 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

Secondly, if we use our understanding well in acquiring a knowledge of things, then we must know them in [relation to] their causes. Now then, since God is a first cause of all other things, therefore, from the nature of the case (ex rerum natura), the knowledge of God is, and remains, before the knowledge of all other things: be­ cause the knowledge of all other things must follow from the knowledge of the first cause. And true love results always from the knowledge that the thing is glorious and good. What else, then, can follow but that it can be lavished upon no one more ardently than upon the Lord our God? For he alone is glorious, and a perfect good.

So we see now, how we can make love strong, and also how it must rest only in God.

What more we had still to say about love, we shall bear in mind to say it when we consider the last kind of knowledge. In what follows here we shall inquire, as we promised before, as to which of the passions we are to enterta in, which we are to reject.

CHAPTER VI

On Hatred

Hatred is an inclination to ward off from us that which has caused us some harm. Now it is to be remarked that we perform our actions in two ways, namely, either with or without passion. With passion, as is commonly seen in the [conduct of] masters towards their servants who have done something amiss. Without passion, as is related of Socrates, who, when he was compelled to chastise his slave for [ the latter's own] good, never did so when he felt that he was enraged against his slave.

Now that we see that our actions are performed by us either with, or without passion, we think that it is clear that those things which hinder or have h indered us can be removed, when necessary, without any perturbation on our part. And so, wh ich is better: that we should flee from the things with aversion and hatred, or that, with the strength of reason, we should (for we think it possible) endure them without loss of temper? First of all , it is certain that when we do what we have to do without passion, then no evil can result therefrom. And, since there is no mean between good and evil, we see that, as it is bad to do anything in a pas­ sion, so it must be good to act without it.

But let us examine whether there is any harm in fleeing from things with ha­ tred and aversion.

As regards the hatred which comes from opinion, i t is certain that it should have no place in us, because we know that one and the same thing is good for us at one time, bad for us at another time, as is always the case with medicinal herbs.

It therefore depends, in the end, on whether the hatred arises in us only through opinion, and not also through true reasoning. But to ascertain this prop­ erly we deem it right to explain distinctly what hatred is, and to distinguish it from aversion.

Part II, Chapter VII 7 1

Now I say that Hatred i s a perturbation o f the soul against some one who has done some ill to us willingly and knowingly. But aversion is the perturbation which arises in us against a thing on account of some infirmity or injury which we either know or think is in it by nature. I say, by nature; for when we do not sup­ pose or think that it is so, then, even if we have suffered some hindrance or injury from it, we have no aversion for it, because we may, on the contrary, expect some­ thing useful from it. Thus, when someone is hurt by a stone or a knife, he does not on that account feel any aversion for the same.

After these observations let us now briefly consider the consequences of both of them. From hatred there ensues sorrow; and when the hatred is great, it produces anger, which not only, l ike hatred, seeks to flee from what is hated, but also to an­ nihilate it, when that is practicable: from this great hatred comes also envy. Butfrom aversion there comes a certain sorrow, because we consider ourselves to be deprived of something which, since it is real, must always have its essence and perfection.

From what has just been said i t may be easily understood that, if we use our Reason aright, we can feel no hatred or aversion for anything, because, if we do, we deprive ourselves of that perfection which is to be found in everyth ing. We see l ikewise with our Reason that we can never [ reasonably 1 feel any hatred what­ ever against anybody, because whatsoever exists in Nature, if we entertain any wish about it, then we must always improve it, whether for our sake or for the sake of the thing itself. And since a perfect man is the best thing for us that we know of all that we have around us or before our eyes, it is by far the best both for us and for all people individually that we should at all times seek to educate them to this perfect state. For only then can we reap the greatest benefit from them, and they from us. The means thereto is, to give regard to them always in the manner in which we are constan tly taught and exhorted to do by our good Conscience; for this never prompts us to our undoing, but always to our happi­ ness and well-being.

In conclusion, we say that Hatred and Aversion have in them as many imper­ fections as Love, on the contrary, has perfections. For this always produces im­ provemen� invigoration, and enlargement, which constitute perfection ; while Hatred, on the contrary, always makes for desolation, enervation, and annih ila­ tion, which constitute imperfection itself.

CHAPTER VII

On Joy and SorroW"

Having seen that Hatred and Surprised are such that we may freely say, that they can have no place in those who use their understanding as they should, we shall

C [B. On Desire and Joy J d [B · Hatred and AversIOn 1

72 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

now proceed in the same manner to speak of the other passions. To begin with, Desire and Joy shall come first. Since these arise from the same causes from which love ensues, we shall only say concerning them that we must remember and call to mind what we then said; and with this we leave the subject.

We turn next to Sorrow, of which we may say that it arises only from opinion and imagination which follows therefrom: for it comes from the loss of some good.

Now we have already remarked above, that whatsoever we do should tend to­ wards progress and amelioration. But it is certain that so long as we are sorrowing we render ourselves unfit to act thus; on this account it is necessary that we should free ourselves from it. Th is we can do by th inking of the means whereby we may recover what we have lost, if i t is in our power to do so. If not, [we must reflect] that it is just as necessary to make an end of it, lest we fall a prey to all the miseries and disasters which sorrow necessarily brings in its train. And either course must be adopted with joy; for it is foolish to try to restore and make good a lost good by means of a self-sought and provoked evil.

Lastly, he who uses his understanding aright must necessarily know God first. Now God, as we have shown, is the highest good and all that is good. Hence it fol­ lows incontrovertibly, that one who uses his understanding aright can fall a prey to no sorrow. How should he? Since he finds repose in that good which is all that is good, and in which there is the fulness of all joy and contentment.e

Sorrow, then, comes from opinion or want of understanding, as explained.

CHAPTER VIII

On Esteem and Contempt, Etc.

We shall now proceed to speak of Esteem and Contempt, of Self-respect and Hu­ mil ity, of Conceit and Culpable Humility. We shall take them in the above order, and try to distinguish accurately what is good and what is bad in them.

Esteem and Contempt are fel t insofar as we know a thing to be something great or small, be this great or l ittle thing in us or outside us.

Self-respect does not extend [to anything] outside us, and is only attributed to one who knows the real worth of his perfection, dispassionately and without seek­ ing esteem for himself

Humility is fel t when anyone knows his own imperfection , without regard to the contempt [of others] for h imself, so that Humility does not refer to anything outside the humble man.

Conceit is th is, when someone attributes to himself a perfection which is not to be found in him .

., [8 abridges the paragraph as follows· Lastly, he who uses hiS understanding anght rrrust necessarily know that God IS the first and the htghest; and rest In him as thiS supreme good: whence It follows that, since he fmds therem all ,oy and full contentment, no sorrow can befall him 1

Part II, Chapter IX 73

Culpable humil ity is this, when some one attributes to himself an imperfec­ tion wh ich he has not. I am not speaking of those hypocrites who, without mean­ ing it, humble themselves in order to deceive others; but only of those who really think they have the imperfections which they attribute to themselves.

From these observations i t is sufficiently evident what good and evil there is in each of these passions. For, as regards Self-respect and Humil i ty, these show their excellence through themselves. For we say that the possessor thereof knows h is perfection and imperfection for what it is. And this, according to what Reason teaches us, is the most important th ing for the attainment of our perfection. Be­ cause if we know exactly our powers and perfection, we see thereby clearly what i t is we have to do in order to attain our good end. And, on the other hand, if we know our fault and frailty, then we know what we have to avoid.

As regards Conceit and Culpable Humil ity, the definition of them already shows sufficiently that they arise from a certa in opinion; for we said that it [con­ ceit] is attributed to one who ascribes to h imself a certa in perfection, although he does not possess it, and culpable humil ity is the precise opposite.

From what has just been said i t is evident, then, that just as Self-respect and True Humility are good and salutary, so, on the contrary, Conceit and Culpable Hu­ mility are bad and pernicious. For those [Self-respect and True Humility] not only put their possessor into a very good attitude, but are also, besides, the right ladder by which we may rise to supreme bl iss. But these [Conceit and Culpable Humil­ ity] not only prevent us from attaining to our perfection, but also lead us to utter ruin. Culpable Humility is what prevents us from doing that which we should oth­ erwise have to do in order to become perfect; we see this, for instance, in the case of the Sceptics, who, just because they deny that man can attain to any truth, de­ prive themselves thereof through this very denial . Conceit on the other hand is what makes us undertake things which tend straight to our ruin; as is seen in the case of all those who had the conceit, and have the conceit, that they stood, and stand, wondrously well in the opinion of God, and consequently brave fire and wa­ ter, and thus, avoiding no danger, and filCing every risk, they die most miserably.

As regards Esteem and Contempt, there is no more to be said about them, we have only to recall to memory what we said before about Love.

CHAPTER IX

On Hope and Fear, Etc .

We shall now begin to speak of Hope and Fear, of Confidence , Despair, and Vac­ illation, of Courage, Boldness and Emulation, of Pusillanimity and Timidity, and lastly of Jealousy, and, as is our wont, we shall take them one by one, and then in­ dicate which of these can h inder us, and which can profit us. We shall be able to do all this very easily, if only we attend closely to the thoughts that we can have about a thing that is yet to come, be it good, be it bad.

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The ideas which we have about things have reference either

I. To the things themselves; or, 2 . To the person who has the ideas.

The ideas that we have as regards the thing itself are these, either the thing is re­ garded by us as accidental, that is as something which may come or may not come, or [we think] that it necessarily must come. So much as regards the thing itself.

Next, as regards him who th inks about the thing, the case is th is: he must do something either in order to advance the thing, or in order to prevent it. Now from these thoughts all these passions result as follows: when we think that a certain thing which is yet to come is good and that it can happen, the soul assumes, in consequence of this, that form which we call hope, wh ich is nothing else than a certain kind of joy, though mingled with some sorrow.

And, on the other hand, if we judge that that which may be coming is bad, then that form enters into our soul which we call fear.

If, however, the thing is regarded by us as good, and, at the same time, as some­ thing that necessarily must come, then there comes into the soul that repose which we call confidence; which is a certain joy not mingled with sorrow, as hope is.

But when we think that the thing is bad, and that i t necessarily must come, then despair enters into the soul; which is noth ing else than a certain kind of sorrow.

So fur we have spoken of the passions considered in this chapter, and given pos­ itive definitions of the same, and have thus stated what each of them is; we may now proceed in a converse manner, and define them negatively. We hope that the evil may not come, we fear lest the good should not come, we are confident that the evil will not come, we despair because the good will not come.

Having said this much about the passions insofar as they arise from our thoughts concerning the thing itself, we have now to speak of those which arise from the thoughts relating to him who thinks about the thing; namely:

If something rnust be done in order to bring the thing about, and we come to no decision concerning it, then the soul receives that form which we call vacilla­ tion. But when it makes a manly resolve to produce the thing, and this can be brought about, then that is called courage; and if the thing is difficult to efiect, then that is called intrepidity or bravery.

When, however, sorne one decides to do a thing because another (who had done it first) has met with success, then we call it emulation. Lastly, if any one knows what he must decide to do in order to advance a good thing, and to h inder a bad one, and yet does not do so, then we call it pusillanimity; and when the same is very great, we call it timidity. Lastly, iealousness or ialousie is the anxiety which we feel that we rnay have the sole enjoyrnent and possession of something already acquired.

Since we know now whence these passions originate, it will be very easy for us to show which of them are good, and wh ich are bad.

As regards Hope, Fear, Confidence, Despair, and Jealousy, it is certain that they arise from a wrong opinion. For, as we have already shown above, a l l things

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have their necessary causes, and must necessarily happen just as they do happen. And although Confidence and Despa ir seem to have a place in the inviolable or­ der and sequence of causes or to confirm the same, yet (when the truth of the mat­ ter is rightly looked into) that is far from being the case. For Confidence and De­ spair never arise, unless Hope and Fear (from which they derive their being) have preceded them. For example, if any one thinks that something, for which he still has to wait, is good, then he receives that form in his soul which we call Hope; and when he is confident about the acquisition of the supposed good, h is soul gains that repose which we call Confidence. What we are now saying about Con­ fidence, the same must also be sa id about Despair. Bu� according to that which we have said about Love, th is also can have no place in a perfect man: because they presuppose things which, owing to the mutabil ity to which they are subject (as remarked in our account of Love), we must not become attached to; nor (as shown in our account of Hatred) may we even have an aversion to them. The man, however, who persists in these passions is at all times subject to such at­ tachment and aversion.

As regards Vacillation, Pusillanimity, and Timidity, these betray their imper­ fection through their very character and nature: for whatsoever they do to our ad­ vantage comes only negatively from the effects of their nature. For example, some one hopes for something which he thinks is good, although it is not good, yet, ow­ ing to h is Vacillation or Pusillanimity, he happens to lack the courage necessary for its real isation, and so it comes about that he is negatively or by accident saved from the evil which he thought was good. These Passions, therefore, can also have no place whatever in the man who is gu ided by true Reason.

lastly, as regards Courage, Boldness, and Emulation, about these there is noth­ ing else to be said than that which we have already said about Love and Hatred.

CHAPTER X

On Remorse and Repentance

On the present occasion we shall speak, though briefly, about remorse and repen­ tance. These never arise except as the result of rashness; because remorse comes only from this, that we do something about which we are then in doubt whether i t is good, or whether it is bad; and repentance, from this, that we have done some­ thing which is bad.

And since many people (who use their understanding aright) sometimes (be­ cause they lack that habitual readiness which is required in order that the under­ standing may at all times be used aright) go astray, it might perchance be thought that such Remorse and Repentance might soon set them right again, and thence it might be inferred, as the whole world does infer, that they are good. If, however, we will get a proper insight into them, we shall find that they are not only not good, but that they are, on the contrary, pernicious, and that they are consequently

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bad. For it is obvious that we always succeed better through Reason and the love of truth than through remorse and sorrow. They are, therefore, pernicious and bad, because they are a certa in kind of sorrow, which [sorrow] we have already shown above to be injurious, and which, for that reason, we must try to avert as an evil, and consequently we must l ikewise shun and flee from these also, which are l ike it.

CHAPTER XI

On Derision and Jesting

Derision and jesting rest on a false opinion, and betray an imperfection in him who derides and jests.

The opinion on which they rest is false, because it is supposed that he who is derided is the first cause of the effects which he produces, and that they do not necessarily (l ike the other things in Nature) depend on God. They betray an im­ perfection in the Derider; because either that which is derided is such that it is derisible, or it is not such. If it is not such, then it shows bad manners, to deride that which is not to be derided; if it is such, then they [who deride it] show thereby that they recognise some imperfection in that which they deride, which they ought to remedy, not by derision, but much rather by good reasoning.

Laughter does not refer to another, but only to the man who observes some good in himself; and since it is a certain kind of Joy, there is nothing else to be said about it than what has already been said about Joy. I speak of such laughter as is caused by a certain Idea which provokes one to it, and notat all of such laugh­ ter as is caused by the movement of the [vital ] spirits; as to th is (since it has no ref­ erence to good or to evil) we had no intention to speak of it here.

As to Envy, Anger, Indignation, we shall say nothing about them here, but only just refer back to what we have already said above concerning hatred .

C HAPTER XII

On Glory, Shame, and Shamelessness

We shall now also briefly consider glory, shame, and shamelessness. The first is a certain kind of Joy which every one feels in himself whenever he becomes aware that his conduct is esteemed and praised by others, without regard to any other advantage or profit which they may have in view.

Shame is a certa in kind of sorrow which arises in one when he happens to see that his conduct is despised by others, without regard to any other disadvantage or injury that they may have in view.

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Shamelessness is nothing else than a want, or shaking off, of shame, not through Reason, but either from innocence of shame, as is the case with ch ildren , savage people, etc. , or because, having been held in great contempt, one goes now to any length without regard for anything.

Now that we know these passions, we also know, at the same time, the vanity and imperfection which they have in them. For Glory and Shame are not only of no advantage, because of what we have observed in their definitions, but also (inasmuch as they are based on self-love, and on the opinion that man is the first cause of his action, and therefore deserving of praise and blame) they are perni­ cious and must be rejected.

I will not, however, say that one ought to l ive among men in the same way that one would live away from them, where Glory and Shame have no place; quite the contrary, I admit that we are not only free to utilise them, when we apply them in the service of mankind and for their amelioration, but that we may even do so at the price of curtailing our own (otherwise perfect and legitimate) freedom. For example: if any one wears costly clothes in order to be respected, he seeks a Glory which results from his self-love without any consideration for his fellow-men; but when some one observes that h is wisdom (wherewith he can be of service to h is neighbours) is despised and trampled under foot simply because he is dressed in shabby clothes, then he will do well if (from the motive to help them) he provides himself with clothes to which they cannot take exception, thereby becoming l ike his fellow-man in order that he may win over his fellow-man.

Further, as regards Shamelessness, th is shows itself to be such that in order to see its deformity all that we need is merely its definition, and that will be enough for us.

CHAPTER XIII

On Favour, Gratitude, and Ingratitude

Now follows [ the consideration] of favour, gratitude, and ingratitude. As regards the first two, they are the inclinations which the soul has to wish and to do some good to one's neighbour. I say, to wish, [ this happens] when good is returned to one who has done some good; I say, to do, [ this is the case] when we ourselves have obtained or received some good.

I am well aware that almost all people consider these affects to be good; but, notwithstanding this, I venture to say that they can have no place in a perfect man. For a perfect man is moved to help his fellow-man by sheer necessity only, and by no other cause, and therefore he feels it all the more to be his duty to help the most godless, seeing that his misery and need are so much greater.

Ingratitude is a disregard or shaking off of Gratitude, as Shamelessness is of Shame, and that without any rational ground, but solely as the result either of greed or of immoderate self-love; and that is why it can have no place in a perfect man.

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CHAPTER XIV

On Grief

Grief shall be the last of which we shall speak in our treatment of the passions, and with it we will conclude. Now grief is a certa in kind of sorrow arising from the contemplation of some good which we have lost, and [lost] in such a way that there is no hope of recovering the same. It makes its imperfection so manifest that as soon as we only examine i t we think it bad. For we have already shown above that it is bad to bind and link ourselves to things which may easily, or at some time, fail us, and which we cannot have when we want them. And since i t is a certain kind of sorrow, we have to shun i t, as we have already remarked above, when we were treating of sorrow.

I th ink, now, that I have already shown and proved sufficiently that it is only True Belief or Reason that leads us to the knowledge of good and evil. And so when we come to prove that Knowledge is the first and principal cause' of all these passions, it will be clearly manifest that if we use our understanding and Reason aright, it should be impossible for us ever to fall a prey to one of these passions which we ought to reject. I say our Understanding, because I do not think that Reason alone is competent to free us from all these: as we shall afterwards show in its proper place.

We must, however, note here as an excellent th ing about the passions, that we see and find that all the passions which are good are of such kind and nature that we cannot be or exist without them, and that they belong, as it were, to our essence; such is the case with Love, Desire, and all that pertains to love.

But the case is altogether different with those which are bad and must be rejected by us; seeing that we cannot only exist very well without these, but even that only then, when we have freed ourselves from them, are we really what we ought to be.

To give still greater clearness to all this, i t is useful to note that the foundation of all good and evil is Love bestowed on a certain ob;ect: for if we do not love that object which (nota bene) alone is worthy of being loved, namely, God, as we have said before, but things which through their very character and nature are tran­ s ient, then (since the object is l iable to so many accidents, ay, even to annih ila­ tion) there necessarily results hatred, sorrow, etc . , according to the changes in the object loved . Hatred, when any one deprives him of what he loves. Sorrow, when he happens to lose i t. Glory, when he leans on self-love. Favour and Gratitude, when he does not love his fellow-man for the sake of God.

But, in contrast with all these, when man comes to love God who always

r [B omitted "'cause," but the word seems to have been tDserted recently- perhaps by Van Vlotent as a marginal pencil note suggests. J

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is and remains immutable, then it is impossible for him to fall into th is welter of passions. And for this reason we state it as a fixed and immovable principle that God is the first and only cause of all our good and delivers us from all our evil.

Hence it is also to be noted lastly, that only Love, etc . , are limitless: namely, that as it increases more and more, so also i t grows more excellent, because it is bestowed on an object which is infinite, and can therefore always go on increas­ ing, which can happen in the case of no other thing except this alone. And, maybe, th is will afterwards give us the material from which we shall prove the im­ mortal ity of the soul , and how or in what way this is possible.'

Having so far considered all that the third kind of effect of true belief makes known we shall now proceed to speak, in what follows, of the fourth, and last, ef­ fect which was not stated by us on page 67.

CHAPTER XV

On the True and the False

Let us now examine the true and the false, which indicate to us the fourth, and last, consequence of true bel ief. Now, in order to do this, we shall first state the definitions of Truth and Falsity. Truth is an affirmation (or a denial) made about a certain thing, which agrees with that same thing; and FalSity is an affirmation (or a denial) about a thing, which does not agree with the thing itself. But this be­ ing so, it may appear that there is no difference between the false and the true Idea, or, since the [affirmation or] denial of this or that are mere modes of thought, and [ the true and the false Idea] differ in no other way except that the one agrees with the thing, and the other does not, that they are therefore, not really, but only logically different; and if this should be so, one may justly ask, what advantage has the one from his Truth, and what harm does the other incur through his falsity? And how shall the one know that his conception or Idea agrees with the thing more than the other does? Lastly, whence does i t come that the one errs, and the other does not?

To this it may, in the first place, serve as an answer that the clearest things of all make known both themselves and also what is false, in such a manner that it would be a great folly to ask how we are to become aware of them: for, since they are said to be the clearest of all, there can never be any other clearness through which they might be made clear; it follows, therefore, that truth at once reveals it­ self and also what is false, because truth is made clear through truth , that is through itself, and through it also is falsity made clear; but falsity is never revealed

g [B : And thiS will give us the matenal from which we shall, In the twenty-thud chapter, make out a case for, and prove, the lmmortahty of the SouL]

80 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

and made manifest through itself. So that any one who is in possession of the truth cannot doubt that he possesses it, while one who is sunk in fulsity or in error can well suppose that he has got at the truth ; just as someone who is dreaming can well th ink that he is awake, but one who is actually awake can never th ink that he is dreaming.

These remarks also explain to some extent what we said about God being the Truth, or that the Truth is God himself

Now the reason why the one is more conscious of h is truth than the other is, is because the Idea of [his] affirmation (or denial) entirely agrees with the na­ ture of the th ing, and consequently has more essence. I t may help some to grasp this better if it be observed that Understanding (although the word does not sound l ike it) is a mere or pure pass ivity ; that is, that our soul is changed in such a way that it receives other modes of thought, which it did not have before. Now when someone, in consequence of the whole object having acted upon him, re­ ceives corresponding forms or modes of thought, then it is clear that he receives a totally different feel ing of the form or character of the object than does another who has not had so many causes [acting upon h im] , and is therefore moved to make an affirmation or denial about that thing by a different and slighter action (because he becomes aware of it only through a few, or the less important, of its attributes). From this, then, we see the perfection of one who takes his stand upon Truth, as contrasted with one who does not take his stand upon it. Since the one changes eas ily, while the other does not change easily, it follows there­ from that the one has more stabil ity and essence than the other has: l ikewise, since the modes of thought which agree with the th ing have had more causes [to produce them] they have also more stabil ity and essence in them: and, since they entirely agree with the th ing, it is impossible that they should after a time be made differen t or undergo some change, all the less so because we have al­ ready seen before that the essence of a th ing is unchangeable. Such is not the case with falSity. And with these remarks all the above questions will be suffi­ ciently answered.

CHAPTER XVI

On the Will

Now that we know the nature of Good and Evil , Truth and Falsity, and also wherein the well-being of a perfect man consists, i t is time to begin to examine ourselves, and to see whether we attain to such well-being voluntarily or of ne­ cessity.

To this end it is necessary to inquire what the Will is, according to those who posit a Will , and wherein it is different from Desire. Desire, we have said, is the inclination which the soul has towards something which i t chooses as a good; whence it follows that before our desire incl ines towards something outside, we

Part II, Chapter XVI 8 1

have already inwardly decided that such a thing i s good, and this affirmation, or, stated more generally, the power to affirm and to deny, is called the Will . 13

It thus turns on the question whether our Affirmations are made voluntarily or necessarily, that is, whether we can make any affirmation or denial about a thing without some external cause compelling us to do so. Now we have already shown that a thing which is not explainedh through itself, or whose existence does not pertain to its essence, must necessarily have an external cause; and that a cause which is to produce something must produce it necessarily; it must therefore also follow that each separate act of willing14 this or that, each separate act of affirm-

1 3 Now the Will, regarded as Affirmation or DeelSlOD IS different from true Behef and from Opinion. It dtffers from True Behef 10 this, that It extends also to that which IS not truly good. and this IS so because It lacks that conviction whereby It IS clearly seen that It cannot be otherwise; In the case of true behef there IS, and rrrust be, thIS convlchon, because from It none but good deSIres emanate.

But It also differs from Opinton to thiS, that It can sometimes be qUIte mfalltble and certatn; thiS is not the case With OpiniOn, which consISts In guessmg and supposmg.

So that we can call it Beher Insofar as It can proceed with certamty, and Opinion Insofar as It IS subJect to error.

h [B. which does not exut.] 1 4 It IS certam that each separate volition rrrust have an external cause through which It comes mto

being; for, seeing that eXistence does not pertam to Its essence, its eXistence rrrust necessanly be due to the eXistence of somethmg else

As to the view that the efficient cause thereof IS not an Idea but the human Will Itself, and that the Understandmg IS a cause without which the will can do nothing, so that the Will 10 Its unde­ termined form, and also the Understanding, are not thmgs of Reason, but real entities-so far as I am concerned, whenever I consIder them attentIvely they appear to be universals, and I can at­ tnbute no reahty to them. Even If It be so, however, sttil it rrrust be admttted that Wtlhng IS a mod­ Ification of the Will, and that the Ideas are a mode of the Understandmg, the Understandmg and the Will are therefore necessanly dIStinct, and really dIStinct substances, because [only] substance IS modified, and not the mode Itself. As the soul IS said to direct these two substances, It rrrust be a third substance. All these thmgs are so confused that It is Impossible to have a clear and distinct conception about them. For, since the Idea IS not 10 the Wtll, but 10 the Understandmg, and III consequence of the rule that the mode of one substance cannot pass over IOto the other substance, love cannot arISe 10 the wtll: because to Will something when there is no idea of that thing in the willing power mvolves self-contradIction If you say that the Will, owing to its union With the Un­ derstandIng, also becomes aware of that whICh the UnderstandIng understands, and thus also loves d, one may retort to thiS: but since awareness IS also an apprehension, it IS therefore also a mode of understanding; follOWing the above, however, this cannot be 1 0 the Will , even If Its union [With the Will] were like that of the soul and body. For suppose that the body is umted With the soul, as the philosophers generally maIntaIn, even so the body never feels, nor does the soul become extended.' When they say that the Soul dIrects both the Understandmg and the Will, thIS IS not only mcon­ celwble, but even self-contradictory, because by saymg so they seem to deny that the wIll iS free, WhiCh IS opposed to theu vlew. But, to conclude, I have no IOchnation to adduce all my objections agamst positing a created fmlte substance. I shall only show bnefly that the Freedom of the Will does not In any way accord With such an endunng creation, namely, that the same acttVlty IS re­ qUIred of Cod in order to mamtain a thing 10 eXIStence as to create d, and that otherwtse the thing could not last for a moment; as this IS so, nothmg can be attributed to d. But we rrrust say that Cod has created It lust as d is; for as It has no power to maIntam itself 10 eXistence while It exists, much

, [Aconttnues: For then a Chimera, In which we conceive two substances, ffilght become one, this IS false.]

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ing or denying this or that of a thing, these, I say, must also result from some ex­ ternal cause: so also the definition which we have given of a cause is, that it can­ not be free.

Possibly this will not satisfy some who are accustomed to keep their under­ standing busy with things of Reason more than with Particular things which re­ ally exist in Nature; and, through doing so, they come to regard a thing of Reason not as such, but as a real th ing. For, because man has now th is, now that vol ition , he forms in his soul a general mode which he calls Will , just as from this man and that man he also forms the Idea of man; and because he does not adequately dis­ tinguish the real things from the things of Reason, he comes to regard the things of Reason as things which really exist in Nature, and so he regards h imself as a cause of some things. Th is happens not infrequently in the treatment of the sub­ ject about which we are speaking. For if any one is asked why people want this or that, the answer usually given is, because they have a will. But, since the Will, as we have said, is only an Idea of our willing this or that, and thereIore only a mode of thought, a th ing of Reason, and not a real th ing, nothing can be caused by it; for out of nothing, noth ing comes. And so, as we have shown that the will is not a th ing in Nature, but only in fancy, I also think it unnecessary to ask whether the will is free or not free.

I say this not [only] of will in general, which we have shown to be a mode of though� but also of the particular act of will ing this or that, which act of willing some have identified with affirmation and denial . Now this should be clearly evi­ dent to every one who only attends to what we have already said. For we have said that the understanding is purely passive; it is an awareness, in the soul, of the essence and existence of things; so that it is never we who affirm or deny something of a thing, but it is the thing itself that affirms or denies, in us, something of itself.

Possibly some will not admit this, because it seems to them that they are well able to affirm or to deny of the thing something different from what they know about the thing. But this is only because they have no idea ofthe conception which the soul has ofthe thing apart from or without the words [in which it is expressed] . I t i s quite true that (when there are reasons which prompt u s to do so) we can, i n words o r b y some other means, represent the thing to others differently from what we know it to be; but we can never bring it so far, either by words or by any other means, that we should feel about the things differently from what we feel about them; that is impossible, and clearly so to all who have for once attended to their understanding itself apart from the use of words or other significant signs.

Against th is, however, some perchance may say: If it is not we, but the thing it­ self, that makes the affirmation and denial about itself in us, then nothing can be

less, then, can d produce somethtng by Itself If, therefore, any one should say that the soul produces the volition from Itself, then I ask, by what power? Not by that which has been, for it is no more; also not by that which d has now, for d has none at all whereby it might eXist or last for a stogie moment, because it IS contmuously created anew. Thus, then, as there IS nothing that has any power to mam� tam Itself, or to produce anythmg, there remams nothtng but to conclude that God alone, therefore, is and rrrust be the effiCient cause of all thmgs, and that all acts ofVohhon are determmed by him alone

Part II, Chapter XVII 83

affirmed or denied except what is in agreement with the thing; and consequently there is no falsity. For we have said that fulsity consists in affirming (or denying) aught of a thing which does not accord with that thing; that is, what the thing does not affirm or deny about itself. I th ink, however, that if only we consider well what we have already said about Truth and Falsity, then we shall see at once that these objections have already been sufficiently answered. For we have said that the ob­ ject is the cause of what is affirmed or denied thereof, be it true or false: fulsity arising thus, namely, because, when we happen to know something or a part of an object, we imagine that the object (although we only know very l i ttle of it) nev­ ertheless affirms or denies that of itself as a whole; this takes place mostly in fee­ ble souls, which receive very easily a mode or an idea through a slight action of the object, and make no further affirmation or denial apart from this.

Lastly, i t might also be objected that there are many thing. which we some­ times want and [sometimes also 1 do not want, as, for example, to assert something about a thing or not to assert it, to speak the tru th , and not to speak it, and so forth . But this results from the fuct that Desire is not adequately distinguished from Will . For the Will , according to those who maintain that there is a Will, is only the ac­ tivity of the understanding whereby we affirm or deny something about a th ing, with regard to good or evil . Desire, however, is the disposition of the soul to ob­ tain or to do something for the sake of the good or evil that is discerned therein; so that even after we have made an affirmation or denial about the thing, Desire still remains, namely, when we have ascertained or affirmed that the thing is good; such is the Will , according to their statements, while desire is the incl ination , which we only subsequently feel, to advance it-so that, even according to their own statements, the Will may well exist without the Desire, but not the Desire without the Will , which must have preceded it.

All the activities, therefore, which we have discussed above (since they are car­ ried out through Reason under the appearance of good, or are hindered by Rea­ son under the appearance of evil) can only be subsumed under that incl ination which is called Desire, and by no means under the designation of Will, which is altogether inappropriate.

CHAPTER XVII

On the Distinction between Will and Desire

Now that it is known that we have no free will to make an affirmation or a denial , let us just see what is the correct and true distinction between will and desire, or what may the Will be which was called by the Latins voluntas.

According to Aristotle's definition, Desire appears to be a genus containing two species. For he says that the Will is the longing or inclination which one feels to­ wards that which is or seems good. Whence it appears to me that by Desire (or cu­ piditas) he means any inclination, be it towards good, be it towards evil; but when

84 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

the inclination is only towards what is or appears to be good, or when the man who has such inclination , has it under the appearance of good, then he calls it voluntas or good will; while, if it is bad, that is, when we observe in another an in­ clination towards something which is bad, he calls that voluptas or bad will. So that the inclination of the soul is not something whereby affirmations or denials are made, but only an inclination to obtain someth ing which appears to be good, and' to flee from what appears to be bad.

It, therefore, remains to inquire now whether the Desire is free or not free. In addition to what we have already said, namely, that Desire depends on the idsa of its ob;ects, and that this understanding must have an external cause, and in addi­ tion also to what we have said about the will, it still remains to prove that Desire is not free. Many people, although they see quite well that the knowledge which man has of various thing. is a medium through which his longing or inclination passes over from one thing to another, yet fail to observe what that may be which thus lures the inclination from the one to the other.

However, to show that th is inclination of ours is not of our own free will (and in order to present vividly before our eyes what it is to pass over, and to be drawn, from one thing to another), we shall imagine a child becoming aware of some­ thing for the first time. For example, I hold before him a l i ttle Bell , which pro­ duces a pleasant sound for h is ears, so that he conceives a longing for i t, consider now whether he could really help feel ing this longing or desire. If you say, Yes, then I ask, how, through what cause is this to happen? Certainly not through something which he knows to be better, because this is all that he knows; nor, again, through its appearing to be bad to him, for he knows noth ing else, and this pleasure is the very best that has ever come to h im. But perchance he has the free­ dom to banish from him the longing which he feels; whence it would follow that this longing may well arise in us without our free will, but that all the same we have in us the freedom to banish it from us. This freedom, however, will not bear examination; for what, indeed, might it be that shall be able to annihilate the long­ ing? The longing itself? Surely no, for there is nothing that through its own na­ ture seeks its own undoing. What then might it ultimately be that shall be able to wean h im from h is longing? Nothing else, forsooth, except that in the natural or­ der and course of thing. he is affected by something which he finds more pleas­ ant than the first. And, therefore, just as, when we were considering the Will, we said that the human Will is nothing but this and that Volition, so also man has no other than this and that Desire wh ich is caused by this and that idea;k Desire [in the abstract] is not anything actually existing in Nature, but is only an abstraction from the particular acts of desiring this or that. Desire, then, as i t is not really any-

, [B, or.]

k [B concludes thiS chapter as follows. ! f then we say that Desire is free, d IS lust as if we had said that thiS or that Desire is the cause of Itself, and, already before it eXisted, had brought d about that It should eXISt: which IS absurdity itself and IS ImpOSSible. And DeSire, regarded as a umversal, being nothmg but an abstraction from the particular acts of desmng thIS or that, and, beyond this, not ac­ tually eXisting In Nature, can, as such, also cause nothmg 1

PartII, Chapter XVIII 85

th ing, can also not really cause anything. So that when we say that Desire i s free, it is just as much as if we said that this or that Desire is its own cause- that is, that before it existed it had already arranged that it should exis� which is absurdity it­ self, and cannot be.

CHAPTER XVIII

On the Uses of the Foregoing

Thus we see now that man, being a part o{ the whole o{Nature, on which he de­ pends, and by which also he is governed, cannot of himself do anything for h is happiness and well-being; let us, then, just see what Uses we can derive from these propositions of ours. And this [ is 1 all the more [necessary 1 because we have no doubt that they will appear not a l ittle offensive to some.

In the first place, i t follows therefrom that we are truly servants, aye, slaves, of God, and that it is our greatest perfection to be such necessarily. For, if we were thrown back upon ourselves, and thus not dependent on God, we should be able to accompl ish very l i ttle, or nothing, and that would justly give us cause to lament our lo� especially so in contrast with what we now see, namely, that we are de­ pendent on that wh ich is the most perfect of all, in such a way that we exist also as a part of the whole, that is, of him; and we contribute, so to say, also our share to the realisation of so many skilfully ordered and perfect works, which depend on him.

Secondly, this knowledge brings i t about that we do not grow proud when we have accompl ished someth ing excellent (which pride causes us to come to a standstill , because we think that we are already great, and that we need do noth­ ing further; thereby militating precisely against our own perfection, which con­ sists in this- that we must at all times endeavour to advance further and further); but that, on the contrary, we attribute all that we do to God, who is the first and only cause of all that we accompl ish and succeed in effecting.

Thirdly, in addition to the fact that this knowledge inspires us with a real love of our neighbour, i t shapes us so that we never hate him, nor are we angry with him, but love to help him, and to improve h is condition. All these are the actions of such men as have great perfection or essence.

Fourthly, this knowledge also serves to promote the greatest Common Good, because through it a judge can never side with one party more than with the other, and when compelled to punish the one, and to reward the other, he will do it with a view to help and to improve the one as much as the other.

Fifthly, this knowledge frees us from Sorrow, from Despair, from Envy, from Terror, and other evil passions, which, as we shall presently say, constitute the real hell itself.

Sixthly, this knowledge brings us so far that we cease to stand in awe of God, as others do of the Devil (whom they imagine), lest he should do them harm. For

86 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

why indeed should we fear God, who is the highest good itself, through whom all things are what they are, and also we who live in him?

Seventhly, th is knowledge also bring. us so far that we attribute all to God, love him alone because he is the most glorious and the most perfect, and thus offer ourselves up entirely to him; for these really constitute both the true service of God and our own eternal happiness and bliss. For the sole perfection and the fi­ nal end of a slave and of a tool is th is, that they duly fulfil the task imposed on them. For example, if a carpenter, while doing some work, finds his Hatchet of excellent service, then this Hatchet has thereby attained its end and perfection; but ifhe should think: this Hatchet has rendered me such good service now, there­ fore I shall let it rest, and exact no further service from it, then precisely th is Hatchet would fail of its end, and be a Hatchet no more. Thus also is it with man, so long as he is a part of Nature he must follow the laws of Nature, and this is di­ vine service; and so long as he does th is, it is well with him. But if God should (so to say) will that man should serve him no more, that would be equivalent to de­ priving him of his well-being and annihilating him; because all that he is consists in th is, that he serves God.

CHAPTER XIX

On Our Happiness

Now that we have seen the advantages of this True Belief, we shall endeavour to fulfil the promise we have made, namely, to inquire whether through the knowl­ edge which we already have (as to what is good, what is evil, what truth is, and what falsity is, and what, in general, the uses of all these are) , whether, I say, we can thereby attain to our well-being, namely, the LoVE of God (which we have remarked to be our supreme happiness), and also in what way we can free our­ selves from the passions which we have judged to be bad.

To begin with the consideration of the last, namely, of the l iberation from the passions, I' I say that, if we suppose that they have no other causes than those which we have assigned to them, then, provided only we use our understanding aright, as we can do very easily l6 (now that we have a criterion of truth and fal­ sity), we shall never fall into them.

1 5 All passions which come In confhct with good Reason (as is shown above) anse from OpInIOn All that IS good or bad In them, IS shown to us by True Behef; these, however-both, or either of the two-are not able to free us from them I t is only the thud kmd, namely, True Knowledge, that emancipates from them. And without thiS It IS ImpOSSible that we should ever be set free from them, as Will be shown subsequently (page 93). Might not thiS well be that about which, though under different destgnatlon, others say and write so rrruch? For who does not see how conveniently we can mterpret opinIOn as SID; beltef, as the law which makes sm known, and true knowledge, as grace which redeems us from sm?

1 6 Can do very easily; that IS to say, when we have a thorough knowledge of good and eVil· for then It

Part II, Chapter XIX 87

But what we have now to prove is that they have no other causes; for this, me­ thinks, it is required that we should study ourselves in our entirety, having regard to the body as well as to the spirit.

And first [ we have] to show that in Nature there is a body through whose form and activities we are affected, and thus become aware of it. And the reason why we do th is is, because when we get an insight into the activities of the body and the effects which they produce, then we shall also discover the first and foremost cause of all those passions; and, at the same time, also that through which all those passions might be annihilated. From th is we shall then also be able to see whether it is possible to do such a thing by the aid of Reason. And then we shall also pro­ ceed to speak about our Love of God.

Now to prove that there is a body in Nature, can be no difficult task for us, now that we already know that God is, and what God is; whom we have defined as a be­ ing of infinite attributes, each of which is infinite and perfect. And since extension is an attribute which we have shown to be infinite in its kind, i t must therefore also necessarily be an attribute of that infinite being. And as we have also already demon­ strated that this infinite being exists, it follows at once that this attribute also exists.

Moreover, since we have also proved that outside Nature, which is infinite, there is, and can be, no being, it is clearly manifest that this effect of body through which we become aware [of it] can proceed from nothing else than from exten­ sion itself, and by no means from someth ing else which (as some will have it) has extension in an eminent degree [eminenter]: for (as we have already shown in the first chapter) there is no such thing.

We have to remark, therefore, that all the effects which are seen to depend nec­ essarily on extension must be attributed to this attribute; such as Motion and Rest. For if the power to produce these did not exist in Nature, then (even though it [Nature] might have many other attributes) it would be impossible that these should exist. For if a th ing is to produce something then there must be that in it through which it, rather than another, can produce that something.

What we have just said here about extension, the same we also wish to be re­ garded as though it had been said about thought, and further about all that is.

It is to be observed further, that there is nothing whatever in us, but we have the power to become aware of it so that if we find that there is nothing else in us except the effects of the thinking thing and those of extension, then we may say with certainty that there is nothing else in us.

In order that the workings of both these may be clearly understood, we shall take them up first each by itself only, and afterwards both together; as also the ef­ fects of both the one and the other.

N ow when we consider extension alone, then we become aware of nothing else in i t except Motion and Rest, from which we then discover all the effects that re­ sul t therefrom. And these two l7 modes of body are such that it is impossible for

IS ImpOSSible to be subJect to that from which the passions arISe. because when we know and en­ JOY what IS best, that wh ich IS worst has no power over us.

1 7 Two modes: because Rest IS not Nothing.

88 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

any other th ing to change them, except only themselves. Thus, for example, when a stone l ies still , then it is impossible that i t should be moved by the power of thought or anything else, but [it may] well [be moved] by motion,' as when an­ other stone, having greater motion than this has rest, makes it move. Likewise also the moving stone will not be made to rest except through someth ing else which has less motion. It follows, accordingly, that no mode of thought can bring mo­ tion or rest into a body. In accordance, however, with what we observe in our­ selves, it may well happen that a body wh ich is moving now in one direction may nevertheless turn aside in another direction; as when I stretch out my arm and thereby bring it about that the [vital ] spirits which were already moving in a dif­ ferent direction, nevertheless move now in th is direction, though not always, but according to the disposition of the [vital] spirits, as will be stated presently.

The cause of this can be none other than that the soul, being an Idea of this body, is united with it in such a way that it and this body, thus constituted, together form a whole.

The most important effect of the other or thinking attribute is an Idea of th ings, which is such that, according to the manner in which i t apprehends them, there arises either Love or Hatred, etc. This effect, then, as it impl ies no extension, can also not be attributed to the same, but only to thought, so that, whatever the changes which happen to arise in this mode, their cause must on no account be sought for in extension, but only in the th inking thing. We can see this, for in­ stance, in the case of Love, which, whether it is to be suppressed or whether i t is to be awakened, can only be thus affected through the idea itself, and this hap­ pens, as we have already remarked, either because something bad is perceived to be in the object, or because something better comes to be known .= Now when­ ever these attributes happen to act the one on the other, there results a passivity which one suffers from the other; namely [in the case of extension ] , through the determination of movements which we have the power to direct in whatever di­ rection we please. The process, then, whereby the one comes to be passively affected by the other, is th is: namely, the soul in the body, as has already been re­ marked, can well bring i t about that the [vital ] spirits, which would otherwise move in the one direction, should nevertheless move in the other direction ; and since these [vital ] spirits can also be made to move, and therefore directed, by the body, it may frequently happen that, when the body directs their movements to­ wards one place, while the soul directs them towards another place, they bring about and occasion in us those pecul iar fits of depression which we sometimes feel without knowing the reasons why we have them. For otherwise the reasons are generally well known to us.

Furthermore, the power which the soul has to move the [vital] spirits may well be h indered also either because the motion of the [vital] spirits is much dimin­ ished, or because it is much increased. Diminished, as when, having run much ,

I [B : by the mohon of something else . ]

m [B: either because somethtng good IS perceived In the loved obJ ect, or because somethmg bad is perceived in the hated object.]

Part II, Chapter XIX 89

we bring it about that the [vital ] spirits , owing to this running, impart to the body much more than the usual amount of motion,n and by losing this [motion ] they are necessarily that much weakened; th is may also happen through taking all too l ittle food. Increased, as when, by drinking too much wine or other strong drink, we thereby become either merry or drunk, and bring it about that the soul has no power to control the body.

Having said thus much about the influences which the soul exercises on the body, let us now consider the influences of the body on the soul . The most im­ portant of these, we maintain, is that it causes the soul to become aware of it, and through it also of other bodies. This is effected by Motion and Rest conjointly, and by nothing else: for the body has nothing else than these wherewith to operate; so that whatever else comes to the soul , besides this awareness, cannot be caused through the body. And as the first th ing which the soul gets to know is the body, the result is that the soul loves it so, and becomes united with it. But since, as we have already sa id before, the cause of Love, Hatred, and Sorrow must not be sought for in the body but only in the soul (because all the activities of the body must pro­ ceed from motion and rest), and since we see clearly and distinctly that one love comes to an end as soon as we come to know something else that is better, it fol­ lows clearly from all th is that, If once we get to know God, at least with a knowledge as clear as that with which we also know our body, then we must become united with him even more closely than we are with our body, and be, as it were, released from the body. I say more closely, because we have already proved before that without him we can neither be, nor be known; and this is so because we know and must know him, not through something else, as is the case with all other things, but only through himself, as we have already sa id before. Indeed, we know him better even than we know ourselves, because without him we could not know ourselves at all.

From what we have said so far it is easily gathered which are the chief causes of the passions. For, as regards the Body with its effects, Motion and Rest,O these can­ not affect the soul otherwise except so as to make themselves known to it as objects; and according to the appearances which they present to it, that is according as they appear good or bad, 18 so also is the soul affected by them, and that [happens] not inasmuch as it is a body (for then the body would be the principal cause of the pas-

n [B continues thus: In which they had a strong m -and through-flow which weakened them.]

o [8 adds: or their effects J 1 8 But If It be asked whence comes It that we know that the one IS good, the other bad? Answer Smce

It is the objects which cause us to become aware of them, we are affected by the one differently, In proportion than by the other. Now these by which we are affected most harmoniously (as regards the proportion of motion and rest, of which they consISt) are most agreeable to us, and as they depart more and more from thIS [harmonious proportIOn, they tend to be] most dISagreeable. And hence anses every kmd of feehng of which we become aware, and which, when It acts on our body, as d of­ ten does, through matenal objects, we call Impulses; for instance, a man who is sorrowing can be made to laugh, or be made merry, by bemg tickled, or by drmkmg wme, etc., which [Impulses] the soul becomes mdeed aware of, but does not produce. For, when it operates, the mernments are real and of another kmd, because then It IS no body that operates, but the mtelhgent soul uses the body as a tool, and, consequently, as the soul IS more active in this case, so is the feeling more perfect

90 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

sions), but inasmuch as it is an object l ike all other things, which would also act in the same way if they happened to reveal themselves to the soul in the same way. (By this, however, I do not mean to say that the Love, Hatred, and Sorrow which pro­ ceed from the contemplation of incorporeal things produce the same effects as those which arise from the contemplation of corporeal things; for, as we shall presently say, these have yet other effects according to the nature of the thing through the ap­ prehension ofwhich Love, Hatred, and Sorrow, etc. , are awakened in the soul which contemplates the incorporeal things.) So that, to return to our previous subject, if something else should appear to the soul to be more glorious than the body really is, it is certain that the body would then have no power to produce such effects as it certainly does now. Whence it follows," not alone that the body is not the principal cause of the passions, but also that even if there were in us something else besides what we have just stated to be capable, in our opinion, of producing the passions, such a thing, even if there were such, could likewise affect the soul neither more nor differently than the body does in fact now. For it could never be anything else than such an object as would once for all be different from the soul, and would con­ sequently show itself to be such and no other, as we have likewise stated also of the body. So that we may, with truth, conclude that Love, Hatred, Sorrow, and other passions are produced in the soul in various forms according to the kind of know 1- edge which, from time to time, it happens to have of the thing; and consequently, if once it can come to know the most glorious of all, it should be impossible for any of these passions to succeed in causing it the least perturbation.

CHAPTER XX

Confirmation of the Foregoing

Now, as regards what we have said in the preceding chapter, the following diffi­ culties might be raised by way of objection.

First, if motion is not the cause of the passions then why is i t possible, never­ theless, to banish sorrow by the aid of certa in means, as is often done by means of wine? To this i t serves [as an answer] that a distinction must be made between the soul's awareness, when it first becomes aware of the body, and the judgment which it presently comes to form as to whether it is good or bad for it. 19

Now the soul , being such as just stated, has, as we have already shown before, the power to move the [vital] spirits whithersoever it pleases; but this power may, nevertheless, be taken away from it, as when, owing to other causes [arising out] of the body generally, their form, constituted by certain proportions [of motion

P [A continues thus. not that the body alone IS the prinCipal cause of the passions . . . ; B : that the body alone is not the prinCipal cause of passlons . . . J

1 9 That IS, between understandmg considered generally, and understandmg havmg special regard to the good or eVil of the thmg

Part II, Chapter XX 9 1

and rest] , disappears o r i s changed; and when i t becomes aware o f this [change I in it, there arises sorrow, which varies with the change which the [vital ] spirits un­ dergo. This sorrow results from its love for, and union with, the body '>o

That this is so may be easily deduced from the fact that this sorrow can be alleviated in one of these two ways; either by restoring the [vital ] spirits to their original form that is by relieving him of the pain, or by being persuaded by good reasons to make no ado about this body. The first is temporary, and [ the sorrow] is l iable to return; but the second is eternal, permanent, and unchangeable.

The second objection may be this: as we see that the soul, although it has noth­ ing in common with the body, can yet bring it about that the [vital ] spirits, al­ though they were about to move in one direction, nevertheless move now in the other direction, why should it not also be able to effect that a body which is per­ fectly still and at rest should begin to move itself?21 Likewise, why should it not

20 Man's sorrow IS caused by the thought that some evil IS befallmg him, namely, through the loss of some good; when such a thought IS entertained, the result IS, that the [vital] spirits gather about the heart, and, With the help of other parts, press it together and enclose It, just the reverse of what happens In the case of JOY. Then the soul becomes aware of tillS pressure, and IS pamed. Now what IS It that medicmes or wine effect? ThIS, namely. that by their achon they dnve away the [vdal] spirM Its from the heart, and make foom again, and when the soul becomes aware of thiS, It receives new antmahon, which consists in thiS, that the thought of evil is diverted by the change in the propor­ hon of mohon and rest, which the wme has caused, and It turns to something else m which the understandmg fmds more satisfaction. But thiS cannot be the Immediate effect of the wme on the soul, but only of the wine on the [Vital] spirits.

2 1 Now, there IS no difficulty here as to how the one mode, which is tnfinitelydlfferent from the other, yet acts on the other; for d is a part ofthe whole, smce the soul never eXisted Without the body, nor the body without the soul We arnve at thiS [conclusion] as follows [no page numbers given] :

I . There lS a perfect being, page - . 2. There cannot be two substances, page -. 3. No sub­ stance can have a beg1Ontng, page- . 4. Each IS mfmde m its kind, page -. 5. There rrrust also be an attrtbute of thought, page -. 6. There IS nothmg 10 Nature, but there IS an Idea of It m the thmkmg thing. resulting from its essence and existence 10 conjunction, page - . 7. Consequently, now. 8. Smce thetr essence, Without their eXistence, IS Imphed m the destgnations ofthmgs, there­ fore the Idea of the essence cannot be regarded as somethmg separate, thiS can only be done when there IS both existence and essenc£, because then there IS an object, which before was not For ex­ ample, when the whole wall is white, there IS no thiS or that In, etc 9 Now, this Idea, considered by itself, and apart from all other Ideas, can be no more than a mere Idea of such a thmg, and It cannot be that It has an Idea of such a thing; [add] moreover, that such an Idea, thus regarded, since d IS only a part, can have no very clear and very dIStinct conception of Itself and its object, but only the tlunkmg thmg. which IS the whole of Nature, can have this; for, a part considered with­ out ds whole, cannot, etc 10 Between the Idea and the object there rrrust necessanly be a union, because the one cannot eXist without the other. for there IS no thtng whose Idea is not m the thmk- 109 thmg. and no Idea can eXist unless the thmg also exISts. Furthermore the object cannot change Without the Idea changmg also, and vice versa, so that there IS here no need for a third thing that should bring about the union of soul and body. I t IS to be remarked, however, that we are speaking here of such Ideas which necessarily artse from the eXIStence of the thmgs together with thetr essence tn God; but not of the Ideas which the thmgs now actually present to us, [or] produce m us. There is a great difference between these, for the Ideas 10 God do not arise as they do m us by way of one or more of the senses, which are therefore almost always only Imperfectly affected by them; but from their eXIStence and their essence, Just as they are. My Idea, however, IS not yours, although one and the same thmg produces them in us

92 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

also be able to move in whatever direction it pleases all other bodies wh ich are al­ ready in motion?

But if we recall what we have already sa id before concerning the thinking thing, it can remove this difficul ty for us quite easily. Namely, we then said that although Nature has various attributes, it is, all the same, but one only Being, of which all these attributes are predicated. Besides th is we have also sa id that the thinking thing, too, was but one only th ing in Nature, and is expressed in infi­ nite Ideas, in accordance with the infinite things which exist in Nature; for if the body receives such a mode as, for example, the body of Peter, and again another such as is the body of Paul, the result of this is that there are in the th inking th ing two different Ideas: namely, one idea of the body of Peter, which constitutes the Soul of Peter, and another of [ the body of] Paul, which constitutes the Soul of Paul. Now the thinking thing can well move the body of Peter by means of the Idea of the body of Peter, but not by means of the Idea of the body of Paul; so that the soul of Paul can well move its own body, but by no means that of an­ other, such as that of Peter.22 And for this reason also it cannot move a stone which rests or l ies still : because the stone, again, makes another Idea in the Soul . Hence also it is no less clear that it is impossible that a stone, wh ich is perfectly at rest and still, should be made to move by any mode of thought, for the same reasons as a hove.

The third objection may be this: We seem to be able to see clearly that we can , nevertheless, produce a certain stillness in the body. For, after we have kept mov­ ing our [vital ] spirits for a long time, we find that we are tired; which, assuredly, is nothing else than a certain stillness in the [vital ] spirits brought about by our­ selves. We answer, however, that it is quite true that the soul is a cause of this still­ ness, but only indirectly; for it puts a stop to the movement not directly, but only through other bodies which it has moved, and which must then necessarily have lost as much as they had imparted to the [vital ] spirits. I t is therefore clear on all sides that in Nature there is only one and the same kind of motion .

CHAPTER XXI

On Reason

At present we have to inquire why it happens that sometimes, although we see that a certain thing is good or bad, we nevertheless do not find in us the power ei­ ther to do the good or to abstain from the bad, and sometimes, however, we do indeed [find this power in us]. This we can easily understand if we consider the

22 It IS clear that tn man, because he had a begmDmg, there is to be found no other attnbute than such as eXisted in Nature already before. -And smce he consists of such a body of which there must necessanly be an Idea In the thinkmg thmg, and the I dea must necessartly be umted With the body, therefore we assert Without fear that hiS Soul IS nothmg else than tillS Idea ofhts body In the

Part II, Chapter XXII 93

causes that we assigned to opinions, which we stated to be the causes of al l affects. These, we then sa id, [arise 1 either from hearsay, or from experience. And since all that we find in ourselves has greater power over us than that which comes to us from outside, it certainly follows that Reason can be the cause of the extinction of opinions23 which we have got from hearsay only (and this is so because reason has not l ike these come to us from outside), but by no means of those which we have got from experience. For the power which the th ing itself gives us is always greater than that which we obtain by way of consequence through a second th ing; we noted this difference when speaking of reasoning and of clear understanding, page 62, and we did so with the rule of three as an illustration . For more power comes to us from the understanding of proportion itself, than from the under­ standing of the rule of proportion. And it is for th is reason that we have said so of­ ten that one love may be extinguished by another which is greater, because in say­ ing th is we did not, by any means, intend to refer to desire which does not, l ike love, come from true knowledge, but comes from reasoning.

CHAPTER XXII

On True Knowledge, Regeneration, Etc .

Since, then, Reason has n o power to lead u s to the attainment o f our well-being, it remains for us to inquire whether we can attain it through the fourth, and last, kind of knowledge. Now we have said that this kind of knowledge does not result from someth ing else, but from a direct revelation of the object itself to the un­ derstanding. And if that object is glorious and good, then the soul becomes nec­ essarily united with it, as we have also remarked with reference to our body. Hence

thinkmg thmg And as thiS body has aq mohon and rest (which has its proportion determined, and IS usually altered, through external obJects), and as no alteration can take place In the object with­ out occurring also nnmedlately In the Idea, the result IS that people feel (idea re{lexlvo) , < Now I say, as it has a certain mea3ure or proportion of motion and rest, because no process can take place m the body without these two concurring.

q [B: has a certam measure of . . J r [B : that people have "refleXive" Ideas.]

23 It is all the same whether we use here the word opinion or pasSIOn, and so it is clear why we can­ not conquer by means of Reason those that have come to us through experience, for these are noth­ mg else than an enjoyment of, or Immedtate union With, somethmg that we Judge to be good, and Reason, though It teaches us what is better, does not make us enJoy it. Now that which we enjoy m us cannot be conquered by that which we do not enjoy, and is outside us, as that is which Rea­ son suggests But If these are to be overcome then there rrrust be somethmg that is more powerful, in this way there Will be an enjoyment or Immediate Union wIth somethmg that IS better known and enjoyed than thIS first; and when thiS eXIsts victory IS always assured; or, mdeed, thiS VictOry comes also through tasting an evtl whIch IS recogmsed to be greater than the good that was en­ Joyed, and upon which It follows tmmedtately. Stili , expenence teaches us that thiS evt! does not necessarily always follow thus, for, etc See pages 68, 86

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it follows incontrovertibly that it is th is knowledge which evokes love. So that when we get to know God after this manner then (as he cannot reveal himself, nor become known to us otherwise than as the most glorious and best of all) we must necessarily become united with him. And only in this union, as we have al­ ready remarked, does our blessedness consist.

I do not say that we must know him just as he is, or adequately, for i t is suffi­ cient for us to know him to some extent, in order to be united with him. For even the knowledge that we have of the body is not such that we know it just as it is, or perfectly; and yet, what a union I What a love!

That this fourth [kind of] knowledge, wh ich is the knowledge of God, is not the consequence of something else, but immediate, is evident from what we have proved before, [namely,] that he is the cause of all knowledge that is acquired through itself alone, and through no other thing; moreover, also from this, that we are so united with him by nature that without him we can neither be, nor be known. And for th is reason, since there is such a close union between God and us, it is evident that we cannot know h im except directly.

We shall endeavour to explain, next, th is union of ours with him through na­ ture and love.

We said before that in Nature there can be nothing of which there should not be an Idea in the soul of that same th ing." And according as the th ing is either more or less perfect, so also is the union and the influence of the Idea with the thing, or with God himself, less or more perfect For as the whole of Nature is but one only substance, and one whose essence is infinite, all thing. are united through Nature, and they are united into one [being] , namely, God. And now, as the body is the very first th ing of which our soul becomes aware (because as al­ ready remarked, nothing can exist in Nature, the Idea of which is not in the think­ ing thing, th is Idea being the soul of that thing) so that thing must necessarily be the first cause of the Idea.25

But, as this Idea can by no means find rest in the knowledge of the body with­ out pass ing on to the knowledge of that without which the body and Idea could neither be, nor be understood, so (after knowing it first) it becomes united with it immediately through love. Th is union is better understood, and one may gather what i t must be like, from its action with the body, in which we see how through knowledge of, and feel ing. towards corporeal thing., there arise in us all the ef­ fects which we are constantly becoming aware of in the body, through the move­ ments of the [vital] spirits; and therefore (if once our knowledge and love come to embrace that without which we can neither be, nor be understood, and which

24 This also explains what we said In the fust part, namely, that the inflmte understandmg rrnst eXISt In Nature from all etermty. and why we called It the son of God. For, as God eXisted from etermty, hiS Idea rrrust also be In the thmkmg thmg, that IS, In hnnself from etermty, objective this Idea co­ inCides with hnnself; see page 59.

25 That IS our soul bemg an Idea of the body dertves Its fll'st being from the body, but It IS only a rep­ resentation of the body, both as a whole and m Its parts, to the thinkmg thmg.

Part II, Chapter XXIII 9 5

i s i n no way corporeal) how incomparably greater and more glorious will and must be the kind of effects resulting from this union; for these must necessarily be com­ mensurate with the thing with which it is united. And when we become aware of these excellent effects, then we may say with truth, that we have been born again. For our first birth took place when we were united with the body, through which the activities and movements of the [vi tal ] spirits have arisen; but this our other or second birth will take place when we become aware in us of entirely different effects of love, commensurate with the knowledge of this incorporeal object, and as different from the first as the corporeal is different from the incorporeal , spirit from flesh. And this may, therefore, all the more justly and truly be called Re­ generation , inasmuch as only from this love and union does Eternal and un­ changeable existence ensue, as we shall prove.

CHAPTER XXIII

On the Immortal ity of the Soul

If only we consider attentively what the Soul is, and whence its change and du­ ration originate, then we shall easily see whether it is mortal or immortal.

Now we have said that the Soul is an Idea which is in the thinking thing, aris­ ing from the reality of a thing which exists in Nature. Whence it follows that ac­ cording to the duration and change of the thing, so must also be the duration and change of the Soul. We remarked, at the same time, that the Soul can become united either with the body of which it is the Idea, or with God, without whom it can neither be, nor be known.

From this, then, it can easily be seen, ( I ) that, if it is united with the body alone, and that body happens to perish, then it must perish also; for when it is deprived of the body, which is the foundation of its love, it must perish with it. But (2) if it becomes united with some other thing which is and rema ins unchangeable, then , on the contrary, it must also remain unchangeable and lasting. For, in that case, through what shall it be possible for it to perish?' Not through itself; for as l i ttle as i t could begin to exist through itself when it did not yet exist, so l ittle also can it change or perish through itself, now that it does exist.

Consequently, that th ing which alone is the cause of its existence, must also (when it is about to perish) be the cause of its nonexistence, because it happens to change itself or to perish.

s [8 concludes thiS chapter as follows. For that which alone IS the cause of the eXIStence of a thmg, must also, when It is about to pass away, be the cause of Its noneXIStence, Simply because itself is changing Of passmg away; or that whereof It IS the cause ITllst be able to anmhllate Itself; but as ht­ tie as a thtng can begin to exist through Itself when It does not yet eXist, so little also can It change or perish through itself, now that It does exISt.]

96 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

CHAPTER XXIV

On God's Love of Man

Thus far we have shown sufficiently, we think, what our love of God is, also its consequences, namely, our eternal duration . So we do not think it necessary here to say anything about other things, such as joy in God, peace of mind, etc . , as from what has been said it may easily be seen what there is to or should be said about them. Thus (as we have, so far, only considered our love of God) it still remains to be seen whether there is also a divine love of us, that is, whether God also loves mankind, namely, when they love him. Now, in the first place, we have sa id that to God no modes of thought can be ascribed except those which are in his crea­ tures; therefore, it cannot be said that God loves mankind, much less [can it be said] that he should love them because they love him, or hate them because they hate him. For in that case we should have to suppose that people do so of their own free will, and that they do not depend on a first cause; which we have already before proved to be false. Besides, this would necessarily involve nothing less than a great mutability on the part of God, who, though he neither loved nor hated be­ fore, would now have to begin to love and to hate, and would be induced or made to do so by someth ing supposed to be outside him; but this is absurdity itself.

Still, when we say that God does not love man, this must not be taken to mean that he (so to say) leaves man to pursue his course all alone, but only that because man together with all that is, are in God in such a way, and God consists of all these in such a way, therefore, properly speaking, there can be in him no love for something else: since all form only one thing, which is God himself.

From this it follows also that God gives no laws to mankind so as to reward them when they fulfd them [and to punish them when they transgress them,] or, to state it more clearly, that God's laws are not of such a nature that they could be trans­ gressed. For the regulations imposed by God on Nature, according to which all things come into existence and continue to exist, these, if we will call them laws, are such that they can never be transgressed; such, for instance, is [the law] that the weakest must yield to the strongest, that no cause can produce more than it contains in itself, and the like, which are of such a kind that they never change, and never had a beginning, but all things are subjected and subordinated to them. And, to say briefly something about them: all laws that cannot be transgressed, are divine laws; the reason [is this], because whatsoever happens, is not contrary to, but in accordance with, h is own decision. All laws that can be transgressed are human laws; the reason [ is th is] , because all that people decide upon for their own well­ being does not necessarily, on that account, tend also to the well-being ofthe whole of Nature, but may, on the contrary, tend to the annihilation of many other things.

When the laws of Nature are stronger, the laws of men are made null ; the di­ vine laws are the final end for the sake of which they exist, and not subordinate;

Part II, Chapter XXIV 97

human [laws] are not 26 Still , notwithstanding the fact that men make laws for their own well-being, and have no other end in view except to promote their own well-being by them, this end of theirs may yet (insofar as it is subordinate to other ends which another has in view, who is above them, and lets them act thus as parts of Nature) serve that end [which] coincides with the eternal laws established by God from eternity, and so, together with all others, help to accomplish everything. For example, although the Bees, in all their work and the orderly discipline which they maintain among themselves, have no other end in view than to make cer­ tain provisions for themselves for the winter, still, man who is above them, has an entirely different end in view when he maintains and tends them, namely, to ob­ tain honey for himself. So also [is it with] man, insofar as he is an individual thing and looks no further than his finite character can reach; but, insofar as he is also a part and tool of the whole of Nature, this end of man cannot be the final end of Nature, because she is infinite, and must make use of him, together also with all other things, as an instrument.

Thus far [we have been speaking] of the law imposed by God; it is now to be remarked also that man is aware of two kinds oflaw even in himself;' I mean such a man who uses his understanding aright, and attains to the knowledge of God; and these [ two kinds oflaw] result from his fellowship with God, and from his fel­ lowship with the modes of Nature. Of these the one is necessary, and the other is not. For, as regards the law which results from h is fellowsh ip with God, since he can never be otherwise but must always necessarily be united with him, therefore he has, and always must have before his eyes the laws by which he must l ive for and with God. But as regards the law wh ich results from his fellowship with the modes, since he can separate himself from men, th is is not so necessary.

Now, since we posit such a fellowship between God and men, i t might justly be asked, how God can make h imself known to men, and whether this happens, or could have happened, by means of spoken words, or directly through himself, without using any other thing to do it with.

We answer, not by means of words, in any case; for in that case man must have known the signification of the words before they were spoken to him. For exam­ ple, if God had said to the Israelites, ! am Jehovah your God, then they would have had to know first, apart from these words, that God existed,u before they could be assured thereby that it was he [who was speaking to them] . For they already knew qu ite well then that the voice, thunder and l ightning were not God, although the voice proclaimed that it was God. And the same that we say here about words, we also mean to hold good of all external signs.

26 [8 : The Dlvme Laws are the fmal end for which they eXISt, and are not subordmate. but not so the Human Laws; for when the Laws of Nature are stronger than these they are anmhtlated.]

I [B continues: 1 . In him who uses hIS understanding aright and attams to the knowledge af Cad, these result from hiS fellowship wdh God. 2. Those which result from hiS fellowship With the modes of Nature. J

U [A. dat hy Gad _ [that he was God]; B · dat Gad was [that God eK"ted] ]

98 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

We consider it, therefore, impossible that God should make h imself known to men by means of external signs.

And we consider it to be unnecessary that i t should happen through any other thing than the mere essence of God and the understanding of man; for, as the Un­ derstanding is that in us which must know God, and as it stands in such immedi­ ate union with him that it can neither be, nor be understood without him, it is incontrovertibly evident from this that nothing can ever come into such close touch with the Understanding as God himself can. I t is also impossible to get to know God through something else. I. Because, in that case, such a thing would have to be better known to us than God himself, which is in open confl ict with all that we have hitherto clearly shown, namely, that God is a cause both of our knowledge and of all essence, and that without him all individual things not only cannot exist, but cannot even be understood. 2. Because we can never attain to the knowledge of God through any other thing, the nature of which is necessar­ ily finite, even if it were far better known to us; for how is it possible that we should infer an infinite and l imitless thing from a finite and limited thing? For even if we did observe some effects or work in Nature the cause of which was unknown to us, still it would be impossible for us to conclude from this that there must be in Nature an infinite and limitless thing in order to produce this result. For how can we know whether many causes have concurred in order to produce this, or whether there was only one? Who is to tell us?

We therefore conclude, finally, that, in order to make h imself known to men, God can and need use neither words, nor miracles, nor any other created th ing, but only h imself

CHAPTER XXV

On Devils

We shall now briefly say something about devils, whether they exist or do not ex­ ist, and it is this:

If the Devil is a thing that is once for all opposed to God, and has absolutely nothing from God, then he is precisely identical with Nothing, wh ich we have al­ ready discussed before.

If, with some, we represent him as a thinking thing that absolutely neither wills nor does any good, and so sets h imself, once for all, in opposition to God, then surely he is very wretched, and, if prayers could help, then one ought to pray for his conversion.

But let us just see whether such a wretched thing could even exist for a single moment. And, if we do so, we shall immediately find out that it canno� for what­ ever duration a thing has results entirely from the perfection of the thing, and the more essence and godliness things possess, the more lasting are they: therefore, as the Devil has not the least perfection in him, how should he then, I think to my-

Part II, Chapter XXVI 99

self, be able to exist? Add to th is, that the persistence or duration of a mode of the thinking thing only results from the union in which such a mode is, through love, joined to God. As the precise opposite of this union is supposed in the case of the Devils, they cannot possibly exist.

As, however, there is no necessity whatever why we should posit the existence of Devils, why then should they be posited? For we need not, like others, posit Devils in order to find [in them] the cause of Hatred, Envy, Wrnth, and such-like passions, since we have found this sufficiently, without such fictions.

CHAPTER XXVI

On True Freedom

By the assertion of what precedes we not only wanted to make known that there are no Devils, but also, indeed, that the causes (or, to express it better, what we call Sins) which h inder us in the atta inment of our perfection are in ourselves. We have also shown already, in what precedes, how and in what manner, through reason as also through the fourth kind of knowledge, we must attain to our blessed­ ness, and how the passions which are bad and should be banished must be done away with: not as is commonly urged, namely, that these [passions] must first be subdued before we can attain to the knowledge, and consequently to the love, of God. That would be just l ike insisting that some one who is ignornnt must first forsake his ignorance before he can attain to knowledge. But [ the truth is] th is, that only knowledge can cause the disappearance thereof-as is evident from all that we have said. Similarly, it may also be clearly gathered from the above that without Virtue, or (to express i t better) without the guidance of the Understand­ ing, all tends to ruin, so that we can enjoy no rest, and we live, as it were, outside our element. So that even if from the power of knowledge and divine love there accrued to the understanding not an eternal rest, such as we have shown, but only a temporary one, i t is our duty to seek even this, since this also is such that if once we taste it we would exchange it for nothing else in the world.

This being so, we may, with reason, regard as a great absurdity what many, who are otherwise esteemed as great theologians, assert, namely, that if no eternal life resulted from the love of God, thenv they would seek what is best for themselves: as though they could discover anything better than God! This is just as silly as if a fish (for which, of course, it is impossible to l ive out of the water) were to say: if no eternal life is to follow this life in the water, then I will leave the water for the land; what else, indeed, can they say to us who do not know God?

Thus we see, therefore, that in order to arrive at the truth of what we assert for sure concerning our happiness and repose, we require no other principles except

v [8 continues thus· people would seek and consider pleasures of sense, mernment, and worldly en­ Joyments- as though . J

100 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

only this, namely, to take to heart our own interest, which is very natural in all things. And since we find that, when we pursue sensuousness, pleasures, and worldly thing., we do not find our happiness in them, bu� on the contrary, our ruin, we therefore choose the guidance of our understanding. As, however, th is can make no progress, unless i t has first atta ined to the knowledge and love of God, therefore i t was h ighly necessary to seek this (God); and as (after the fore­ going reflections and considerations) we have discovered that he is the best good of all that is good, we are compelled to stop and to rest here. For we have seen that, outside him, there is nothing that can give us any happiness. And it is a true freedom to be, and to remain, bound with the loving chains of h is love.

Lastly, we see also that reasoning is not the principal thing in us, but only l ike a staircase by which we can climb up to the desired place, or l ike a good genius which, without any fals ity or deception, bring. us tidings of the h ighest good in order thereby to stimulate us to pursue it, and to become united with it; which union is our supreme happiness and bl iss.

So, to bring this work to a conclusion, it remains to indicate briefly what hu­ man freedom is, and wherein it consists. For this purpose I shall make use of these following propositions, as things which are certain and demonstrated.

I. The more essence a thing has, so much more has it also of activity, and so much less of passivity. For i t is certa in that what is active acts through what it has, and that the th ing which is passive is affected through what it has not.

2 . All passivity that passes from non-being to being, or from being to non-being, must result from some external agent, and not from an inner one: because noth­ ing, considered by itself, contains in itself the conditions that will enable it to annih ilate itself when it exists, or to create itself when i t does not exist.

3 . Whatever is not produced by external causes can have nothing in common with them, and can, consequently, be neither changed nor transformed by them.

And from these last two [propositions] I infer the following fourth proposition : 4. The effect of an immanent or inner cause (which is all one to me) cannot

possibly pass away or change so long as th is cause of it remains. For such an ef­ fect, just as it is not produced by external causes, so also it cannot be changed [by them] ; following the third proposition. And since nothing whatever can come to naught except through external causes, it is not possible that this effect should be l iable to perish so long as its cause endures; following the second proposition.

5 . The freest cause of all, and that which is most appropriate to God, is the im­ manent: for the effect of th is cause depends on i t in such a way that it can neither be, nor be understood without it, nor is it subjected to any other cause; it is, more­ over, united with it in such a way that together they form one whole.

Now let us just see what we must conclude from the above propositions. In the first place, then:

I . Since the essence of God is infinite, therefore it has an infinite activity, and an infinite negation of passivity, following the first proposition; and, in conse­ quence of th is, the more that, through their greater essence, things are united with God, so much the more also do they have of activity, and the less of passivity: and so much the more also are they free from change and corruption.

Part II, Chapter XXVI 1 0 1

2 . The true Understanding can never perish; for i n itself i t can have no cause to destroy itself, following the second proposition. And as it did not emanate from external causes, but from God, so it is not susceptible to any change through them, following the third proposition. And since God has produced it immediately and he is only an inner cause, it follows necessarily that it cannot perish so long as this cause of it remains, following the fourth proposition. Now this cause of it is eter­ nal, therefore it is too.

3. All the effects of the true understanding, which are united with it, are the most excellent, and must be valued above all the others; for as they are inner ef­ fects, they must be the most excellent; following the fifth proposition; and, besides this, they are also necessarily eternal, because their cause is such.

4. All the effects which we produce outside ourselves are the rnore perfect, the more they are capable of be corning united with us, so as to constitute one and the sarne nature with us; for in this way they corne nearest to inner effects. For ex­ ample, if I teach my neighbours to love pleasure, glory, avarice, then whether I myself also love these or do not love them, whatever the case rnay be, I deserve to be punished, th is is clear. Not so, however, when the only end that I endeavour to attain is, to be able to taste of union with God, and to bring forth true ideas, and to make these things known also to rny neighbours; for we can all participate equally in this happiness, as happens when it creates in them the same desire that I have, thus causing their will and rnine to be one and the same, constituting one and the same nature, agreeing always in all th ings .'

From all that has been said i t may now be very easily conceived what is human freedorn,27 which I define to be th is: i t is, narnely, a firrn reality which our un­ derstanding acquires through direct union with God, so that it can bring forth ideas in itself, and effects outside itself, in complete harmony with its nature; with­ out, however, its effects being subjected to any external causes, so as to be capable of being changed or transformed by them. Thus it is, at the same time, evident

W [ Instead of the three precedmg paragraphs, B has the following.

2 As (according to Proposition I I ) nothing can be a cause of Its own anmhllatlon, nor, If It IS not the effect of any external cause, can It (accordmg to Proposition I I I ) be changed by such, but (accordmg to ProposItion N) the effect of an mner cause can neither pass away, nor change so long as tillS cause thereof endures; It follows that the true understandmg, SInce it is produced by no ex· ternal cause, but nnmedlately by God, is, through thiS cause, eternal and imrrrutable, can neither perish nor change, but, with d, necessarily remains eternal and lasting.

3 . Smce the mner effects of an m1manent cause (accordtng to ProposItion V) are the most ex­ cellent of all, all the effects of the true understandtng which are umted therewith, must also be val­ ued above all others, and [must] necessanly be eternal With their cause Whence it follows that

4. The more perfect the effects are which we produce outside us, the more capable are they of becoming united With us so as to constitute one and the same nature With us. I t IS thus when, through my umon With God, r conceive true Ideas, and make them known to my neJghboUIs, so that they may hkewlse partiCipate with me tn thlS happtness, and so that there ames in thema de­ sire like mine, maktng their Will one and the same With mine, so that we thus constitute one and the same nahHe, agreeing tn all thmgs.]

27 The selVltude of a thtng conSists tn betng subJected to ex:ternal causes, freedom, on the contrary, tn not betng subJected to them, but freed from them.

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from what has been said, what things there are that are in our power, and are not subjected to any external causes; we have l ikewise also proved here, and that in a different way from before, the eternal and lasting duration of our understanding; and, lastly, which effects it is that we have to value above all others.

So, to make an end of all th is, it only remains for me shIl to say to my friends to whom I write this: Be not astonished at these novelties; for it is very weIl known to you that a th ing does not therefore cease to be true because it is not accepted by many. And also, as the character of the age in which we live is not unknown to you, I would beg of you most earnestly to be very careful about the communi­ cation of these things to others. I do not want to say that you should absolutely keep them to yourselves, but only that if ever you begin to communicate them to anybody, then let no other aim prompt you except only the happiness of your neighbour, being at the same time clearly assured by him that the reward will not disappoint your labour. Lastly, if, on reading this through, you should meet with some difficulty about what I state as certain, I beseech you that you should not therefore hasten at once to refute it, before you have pondered it long enough and thoughtfully enough , and if you do this I feel sure that you will attain to the28 en­ joyment of the fruits of this tree which you promise yourselves.

Axi oms

TEAm: [the end]

APPENDICES

[APPENDIX 1 ]

On Cod

I . Substance is, by its nature, prior to all its modifications. 2 . Things which are different are distinguished either realirer or modaliter. 3. Things which are distinguished realiter either have different attributes, such

as Thought and Extension, or are referred to different attributes, as in the case of Understanding and Motion; one of which belongs to Thought, and the other to Extension.

4. Things which have different attributes, as also the things which belong to different attributes, do not have anything the one of the other.

28 [8 concludes: desired END J

Appendix I 103

5 . That which has not in itself something of another thing, can also not be a cause of the existence of such another thing.

6. I t is impossible that that which is a cause of its elf should have limited itself. 7. That by which the things are sustained is by its nature prior to such things.

PROPOSITION I To no substance that exists can one and the same attribute be ascribed that is as­ cribed to another substance; or (which is the same) in Nature there cannot be two substances, unless they are distinguished realiter.·

Proof If there are two substances, then they are distinct; and consequently (Ax­ iom 2) they are distinguished either realiter or modaliter; not modaliter, for in that case the modes would by their nature be prior to the substance, which is contrary to the first axiom; therefore, realiter; and consequently, what is predicated of the one cannot be predicated of the other, which is what we intended to prove.

PROPOSITION II One substance cannot be the cause of the existence of another substance.

Proof Such a cause cannot contain in itself anything of such an effect (Prop. I) ; because the difference between them is real , and therefore it cannot (Axiom 5) produce it.

PROPOSITION III Every attribute or substance is by nature infinite, and supremely perfect in its kind.

Proof No substance is produced by another (Prop. 2) and consequently, if i t ex­ ists, it is either an attribute of God, or it has been its own cause outside God. If the first, then it is necessarily infinite, and supremely perfect in its kind, such as are all other attributes of God. If the second, then it is also necessarily such be­ cause (Axiom 6) i t could not have limited itself.

PROPOSITION IV To such an extent does existence perta in by nature to the essence of every sub­ stance, that it is impossible to posit in an infinite understanding the Idea of the essence of a substance that does not exist in Nature.

Proof The true essence of an object is something wh ich is realiter different from the Idea of the same object; and this something exists (Axiom 3) either realiter, or is contained in some other thing which exists realiter; from which other thing this essence cannot be distinguished realiter, but only modaliter, such are all the essences of the things which we see, which before they yet existed were already contained in extension, motion, and rest, and when they do exist are not distin-

a [8 . to Nature there cannot be posited two substances of one and the same nature.]

1 04 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

guished from extension realiter, but only modaliter. Moreover, it would involve self-contradiction to suppose that the essence of a substance is con tained thus in some other thing; because in that case it could not be distinguished from this re­ aliter, contrary to the first proposition; also, it could in that case be produced by the subject which contains it, contrary to the second proposition; and lastly, it could not by its nature be infinite and supremely perfect in its kind, contrary to the third proposition. Therefore, as its essence is not contained in any other th ing, it must be a thing that exists through itself.

Corollary Nature is known through itself, and not through any other thing. It consists of infinite attributes every one of them infinite and perfect in its kind; to its essence pertains existence, so that outside it there is no other essence or exis­ tence, and it thus coincides exactly with the essence of God who alone is glorious and blessed.

[ApPENDIX II ]

On the Human Soul

As man is a created finite th ing, etc . , it necessarily follows that what he has of Thought, and what we call the Soul , is a mode of the attribute which we call Thought, and that nothing else except this mode belongs to his essence: so much so that when this mode comes to naught, the soul perishes also, although the above attribute remains unchanged. Similarly as regards what he has of Exten­ sion; what we call Body is nothing else than a mode of the other attribute which we call Extension; when this is destroyed, the human body also ceases to be, al­ though the attribute Extension remains unchanged.

Now in order to understand what this mode is, which we call Soul, and how it derives its origin from the body, and also how its change (only) depends on the body (which to me constitutes the union of soul and body), it must be observed:

I . That the most immediate mode of the attribute which we call thought con­ tains ob;ective the formal essence of all things; so much so, that if one could posit a real thing whose essence was not ob;ective in the above-named attribute, then this would not be infinite, nor supremely perfect in its kind; contrary to what has already been proved in the third proposition. And since, as a matter of fact, Na­ ture or God is one being of which infinite attributes are predicated, and which contains in itself all the essences of created things, it necessarily follows that of all this there is produced in Thought an infinite Idea, which comprehends ob;ective the whole of Nature just as it is realiter.

2. It is to be observed that all the remaining modes, such as Love, Desire, Joy, etc . , derive their origin from this first immediate mode; and that, too, in such wise, that if it did not precede, then there could be no love, desire, nor joy, etc. Whence it clearly follows that the natural love which prompts everything to preserve its body (I mean the mode) cannot have any other origin than in the Idea or the "ob-

Appendix II 1 0 5

jective" essence of such body which i s in the thinking attribute. Further, since for the real existence of an Idea (or "objective" essence) no other thing is required than the thinking attribute and the object (or "formal" essence), it is certain, as we have sa id, that the Idea, or the "objective" essence, is the most immediate ! mode of the thinking attribute. And, consequently, there can be in the thinking attribute no other mode, that should belong to the essence of the soul of every thing, except only the Idea, which must be in the thinking attribute when its ob­ ject exists: for such an idea brings with it the remaining modes of Love, Desire, Joy, etc. Now as the Idea comes from the existence of the object, therefore ac­ cording as the object changes or perishes, so its Idea must change or perish , and such being the case, i t is that which is united with the object.'

Lastly, if we should want to proceed and ascribe to the essence of the soul that through which it can be real, we shall be able to find nothing else than the at­ tribute [Thought] and the object of which we have just been speaking; and nei­ ther of these can belong to the essence of the Soul, as the object has nothing of Thought, and is realiter different from the Soul . And with regard to the attribute, we have also proved already that it cannot pertain to the above-mentioned essence, as appears even more clearly from what we said subsequently; for the at­ tribute as attribute is not united with the object, since it neither changes nor per­ ishes, although the object changes or perishes.

Therefore the essence of the soul consists in this alone, namely, in the exis­ tence of an Idea or "objective" essence in the thinking attribute, arising from the essence of an object which in fact exists in Nature. I say, of an object which in fact exists, etc., without more particulars, so as to include under this not only the modes of extension, but also the modes of all the infinite attributes, which have also each its soul, just as in the case of extension. And in order that this definition may be somewhat more fully understood, it should be borne in mind what I have already said when speaking abou t the attributes, which, I sa id, are not different as regards their existence, for they are themselves the "subjects" of their essences; also that the essence of every one of the modes is contained in the above-named attributes, and, lastly, that all the attributes are attributes of One infinite Being. Wherefore also, in the ninth chapter of the First Part, I called this Idea a creation created immediately by God; since it contains objective the "formal" essence of all things,b without omission or addition. And this is necessarily but one, consider­ ing that all the essences of the attributes, and the essences of the modes compre­ hended in these attributes, are the essence of one only infinite being. But it has still to be remarked that these modes, now under consideration, [even when] none of them exists, are nevertheless equally comprehended in their attributes; and as

1 I call that mode the most unmedtate mode, which, In order to eXISt, requires no other mode in the same attnbute.

a [B . . . . so thiS Idea of It Inlst change or pensh In the same degree or measure of change or anmhl­ lahon, because it is thus umted With the object.]

b [B - . . I called the thlnkmg attribute, or the understandmg In the thmkmg thmg, a son, product, or creation created tnllnedlately by God, since It con tams the "objective" essence of all things

106 Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being

there is no inequality whatever in the attributes, nor yet in the essences of the modes, there can be no particularity in the idea when there is none in Nature. But as soon as ever some of these modes take on their particular existence, and thereby become in some way different from their attributes (because then their particular existence, which they have in the attribute, as the "subject" of their essence), then there shows itself a particularity in the essences of the modes, and consequently in the "objective" essences of these which are necessarily compre­ hended in the Idea.c And this is the reason why we said, in the definition, that the Idead arises from an object, which really exists in Nature. And with this we think we have sufficiently expla ined what kind of a thing the soul is in general, under­ standing by th is expression not only the Ideas which arise from the existence of corporeal modes, but also those which arise from the existence of every mode of the remaining attributes.

But, since we have no such knowledge of the remaining attributes as we have of extension, let us j ust see whether, having regard to the modes of extension, we can discover a more special definition, and one that shall be more appropriate to express the essence of our souls, for this is the real task before us. Now we shall presuppose here, as someth ing already demonstrated, that extension contains no other modes than motion and rest, and that every particular material th ing is noth­ ing else than a certain proportion of motion and rest, so much so indeed that, even if extension contained nothing else except motion only or rest only, then no par­ ticular thing could be shown or exist in the whole of extension; the human body, therefore, is nothing else than a certa in proportion of motion and rest. Now the "objective essence" of this actual ratio of motion and rest which is in the thinking attribute, this (we say) is the soul of the body; so that whenever one of these two modes changes into more or less (motion or rest) the Idea or the soul also changes accordingly. For example, when the [amount of] rest happens to increase, while the [quantity of] motion is diminished, then there is produced thereby that pain or sorrow which we call cold; but if, on the contrary, this [increase] takes place in the [amount of] motion , then there is produced thereby that pain which we call heat. e And so when it happens that the degrees of motion and rest are not equal in all the parts of our body, but that some have more motion and rest than others, there arises therefrom a difference of feel ing (and thence arises the different kind of pain which we feel when we are struck in the eyes or on the hands with a cane). And when it happens that the external causes, which bring about these changes,

C [B- In the Thmkmg Attnbute 1

d [8: the soul, the Idea, or ob,echve essence In the thmkmg attnbute (which IS all one to me) arises . . . J e [8 continues as follows. But if the proporhon of mohon and rest IS not the same m all the parts of

our body, but some of them are provtded wdh more motion or rest than the others, there arises thence a difference of feelmg- such as we expenence when we are struck With a cane in the eyes or on the hands. Moreover, when the external causes happen to be different, and have not all the same effect, there results therefrom a difference of feeling In one and the same part. such as we experi­ ence when the same hand IS struck with a piece of wood or of !fon But when the change which oc- curs In some part restores It to Its previous proportion of mohon and rest, there ariSes 1

Appendix II 107

are different from one another, and have not all the same effect, then there results from this a difference of feel ing in one and the same part (and from this results the difference offeel ing according as one and the same hand is struck with a piece of wood or of iron) . And, again, if the change which occurs in a part restores it to its first proportion of motion and rest, there arises from this that joy which we call repose, pleasurable activity, and cheerfulness. Lastly, now that we have explained what feel ing is, we can easily see how this gives rise to an Idea ref/exiva, or the knowledge of oneself, Experience and Reasoning. And from all this (as also be­ cause our soul is united with God, and is a part of the infinite Idea, arising im­ mediately from God) there can also be clearly seen the origin of clear knowledge, and the immortality of the soul . But, for the present, what we have said must be enough.

P RINC I P LES OF CART E S IAN

P H I LOS OPHY AN D

METAP HYS ICAL THOUGHTS

Spino;ta is often depicted as a solitary rebel. This is a caricature. I n fact, he was one of a group of radical thinkers, deeply involved in the new science and in Cartesian philosophy, who gathered around Franciscus Van den Enden. Others included Lodewi;k Meyer, Johan Bouwmeester, Pieter Balling, Simon de Vries, and Jarig Jelles. Spino;ta participated with others in what was notorious as a Cartesian revolution, the mechanical philosophy. He, like his friends, was committed to determinism, the condition of human passivity, the intellectual love of God, and more.

The Principles of Cartesian Philosophy is the most explicit evidence of Spino;ta's interest and expertise in Descartes. One of two works published by Spino;ta during his lifetime, it appeared in 1 663. While living in Ri;nsburg, Spino;ta acted as a professional tutor, and one of his pupils in Cartesian philosophy was a nineteen-year-old Leiden University student, Johannes Caesarius. According to Spino;ta's friend Lodewijk Meyer in his introduction to the 1 663 edition, Spino;ta's Amsterdam friends had encouraged him to publish the materials on Descartes that he had dictated to Caesarius. In them, Spino;ta had recast Descartes' philosophical thinking into a synthetic or demonstrative form both to clarify Descartes' intentions and to secure the details of the system. The result is a work that reveals as much about Spino;ta's own thinking as it does about Cartesian philosophy. It was, after all, written on the heels of the TIE and during a period in which Spino;ta was still at work on the Short Treatise, fully in the spirit of the rest of his philosophical and scientific enquiries.

Clearly Spino;ta is convinced that mathematics is the exemplary science and that presenting philosophical results in a mathematical or geometrical form best ref/ects their certitude. Descartes' Principles of Ph ilosophy, published in 1 644, was Descartes' attempt to present in this form (that is, synthetically) the views he had come to in the 1 630s-in the Meditations, Discourse, and essays on optics, astronomy, and geometry-in a more discursive or analytic way. Spino;ta's own presentation advances Descartes' achievement. Originally it dealt with Part 2 of Descartes' Principles and the beginning of Part 3. At his friends' request, Spino;ta added a presentation of Part 1 . He did it rather quickly, however, and apologi;ted for its haste.

1 08

Principles of Cartesian Philosophy and Metaphysical Thoughts 109

Spino;z;a was explicit about Caesarius' shortcomings, at least at this early stage in his education; he was after all only nineteen. For this reason, Spino;z;a studiously avoided discussion of his own views which he thought too advanced and for which Caesarius was not yet prepared. His comments on Part 1 and indeed the finished product were, in the end, prepared for his friends and associates and others attuned to the new philosophy. Ostensibly a work of pure exposition and clarification, the published book reveals some differences between Spino;z;a and Descartes as well as Spino;z;a's way of clarifying the point of Cartesian philosophy and science. Like John Rawls' account of Kantian moral philosophy, Principles of Cartesian Ph ilosophy is about both its subject and its author.

When the work was published, Spino;z;a had already moved from Rijnsburg, near Leiden, to the village ofVoorburg, outside The Hague. Shortly after the move, he visited Amsterdam for several weeks in order to prepare the lessons on Descartes for publication. Having spent two weeks writing his account of Part 1 , he arranged Lodewijk Meyer's assistance i n editing the book and writing its preface. Eventually Spino;z;a appended some comments on the metaphysics of Part 1 and his own thought3 on these matters; these were published in an appendix, the "Cogitata Metaphysica," or "Metaphysical Thought3." Meyer was careful in his preface to point out where Spino;z;a differed from Descartes-for example, on mind as a substance and on the freedom of the will. But Meyer was selective; there were many differences of or{!f:mi;z;ation and presentation as well as these central differences in substance.

The Principles of Cartesian Philosophy is an important document for a number of reasons. Spino;z;a's exposition of Cartesian philosophy reflect3 his interest in the details of science as well as in it3 foundations. Second, his own "Cogitata Metaphysica," when compared with his exposition of Part 1 and with his later work, expresses the primary role of God in his thinking and the importance of the modal notions of necessity and contingency and the concept3 of eternity and duration. Finally, the work confirms Spino;z;a's role as an expert in and advocate of Cartesianism and it3 special character as a model of the new philosophy.

M.L.M.

1 1 0 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy and Metaphysical Thoughts

CONTENTS

PRINCIPLES OF CARTESIAN PHILOSOPHY

Preface by Lodewijk Meyer

PART I

Prolegomenon Definitions Axioms Prop. I : We cannot be absolutely certain of anything as long as we

do not know that we exist. Prop. 2: 'I am' must be self-evident. Prop. 3 : 'I am', insofar as the 'I' is a thing consisting of body, is not a

first principle and is not known through itself. Prop. 4: 'I am' cannot be the first known principle except insofar as

we think. Axioms Taken from Descartes Prop. 5: The existence of God is known solely from the

consideration of h is nature. Prop. 6 : The existence of God is proved a posteriori from the mere

fact that the idea of him is in us. Prop. 7 : The existence of God is also proved from the fact that we

ourselves exist while having the idea of him. Prop. 8: Mind and body are distinct in reality. Prop. 9: God is a supremely understanding being. Prop. 10: Whatever perfection is found in God, is from God. Prop. I I : There cannot be more than one God. Prop. 12: All things that exist are preserved solely by the power of

God. Prop. 1 3 : God is supremely truthful, and not at all a deceiver. Prop. 14: Whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive is true. Prop. 1 5 : Error is not anything positive. Prop. 1 6 : God is incorporeal . Prop. 1 7 : God is a completely simple being. Prop. 1 8: God is immutable. Prop. 19: God is eternal . Prop. 20: God has preordained all things from eternity.

Prop. 2 1 : Substance extended in length, breadth, and depth exisls in reality, and we are united to one part of it.

PART 2

Postulate Definitions Axioms Prop. I: Although hardness, weight and the other sensible qualities

may be separated from a body, the nature of the body will nevertheless remain unimpa ired .

Prop. 2: The nature of body or matter cons isis only in extension. Prop. 3 : That there should be a vacuum is a contradiction. Prop. 4: One part of a body does not occupy more space at one time

than at another; and, conversely, the same space does not contain more body at one time than at another.

Prop. 5: There are no atoms. Prop. 6: Matter is indefinitely extended, and the matter of the

heavens and the earth is one and the same. Prop. 7 : No body moves into the place of another body unless at the

same time that other body moves into the place of another body. Prop. 8: When a body moves into the place of another body, at the

same moment of time the place quitted by it is occupied by another body immediately contiguous to it.

Prop. 9: If a circular tube ABC is full of water and is four times as wide at A as at B, then at the time that the water (or any other fluid body) at A begins to move toward B, the water at B will move at four times that speed.

Prop. 10 : The fluid body that moves through the tube ABC (of Prop. 9) receives an indefinite number of degrees of speed .

Prop. I I : The matter that flows through the tube ABC (of Prop. 9) is divided into an indefinite number of particles.

Prop. 1 2 : God is the principal cause of motion. Prop. 1 3 : God still preserves by his concurrence the same quantity

of motion and rest that he originally gave to matter. Prop. 14: Each single th ing, insofur as i t is simple and undivided

and is considered only in ilself, always perseveres in the same state, as fur as in it l ies.

Prop. 1 5 : Every body in motion tends of ilself to continue to move in a straight line, not in a curved line.

Prop. 1 6: Every body that moves in a circle (e.g., a stone in a sl ing) is continuously determined to continue in motion at a tangent to that circle.

Prop. 1 7 : Every body that moves in a circle endeavors to move away from the cen ter of the circle that it describes.

Contents I I I

1 1 2 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy and Metaphysical Thoughts

Prop. 1 8: If a body A moves toward a body B, which is at rest, and B loses noth ing of its state of rest in sp ite of the impetus of body A, then neither will A lose anything of its motion, but will reta in entirely the same quantity of motion that it had before.

Prop. 19 : Motion, regarded in itself, is different from its determination toward a certa in direction; and there is no need for a moving body to be for any time at rest in order that it may travel or be repelled in an opposite direction.

Prop. 20: If a body A collides with a body B and takes i t along with it, A will lose as much of its motion as B acquires from A because of its collision with A.

Prop. 2 1 : If a body A is twice as large as B and moves with equal speed, A will also have twice as much motion as B, or twice as much force for reta ining a speed equal to B's.

Prop. 22: If a body A is equal to a body B, and A is moving at twice the speed of B, the force or motion in A will be twice that in B.

Prop. 23: When the modes of a body are compelled to undergo variation, that variation will always be the least that can be.

Prop. 24, Rule I : If two bodies, A and B, should be completely equal and should move in a straight line toward each other with equal velocity, on colliding with each other they will both be reflected in the opposite direction with no loss of speed.

Prop. 2 5 , Rule 2 : If A and B are unequal in mass, B being greater than A, other conditions being as previously stated, then A alone will be reflected, and each will continue to move at the same speed .

Prop. 26: If A and B are unequal in mass and speed, B being twice the size of A and the motion in A being twice the speed of that in B, other conditions being as before stated, they will both be reflected in the opposite direction, each reta ining the speed that i t possessed.

Prop. 27, Rule 3 : If A and B are equal in mass but B moves a l i ttle faster than A, not only will A be reflected in the opposite direction, but also B will transfer to A half the difference of their speeds, and both will proceed to move in the same direction at the same speed.

Prop. 28, Rule 4: If a body A is completely at rest and is a l ittle larger than B, with whatever speed B moves toward A it will never move A, but will be repelled by A in the opposite direction, reta ining its original motion.

Prop. 29, Rule 5 : If a body A at rest is smaller than B, then however slowly B moves toward A, it will move it along with i t, transferring to it such a part of its motion that both bodies thereafter move at the same speed .

Prop. 30, Rule 6: If a body A at rest were exactly equal to a body B, which is moving toward it, to some degree A would be impelled by B, and to some degree B would be repelled by A in the opposite direction.

Prop. 3 1 , Rule 7: If B and A are moving in the same direction, A more slowly and B following it more quickly so that it finally overtakes A, and if A is bigger than B, but B's excess of speed is greater than A's excess of magnitude, then B will transfer to A so much of its motion that both will thereafter move at the same speed in the same direction. But if, on the other hand, A's excess of magnitude should be greater than B's excess of speed, B would be reflected by it in the opposite direction, retaining all its motion.

Prop. 32: If a body B is surrounded on all sides by particles in motion, which at the same time are impelling it with equal force in all directions, as long as no other cause occurs it will remain unmoved in the same place.

Prop. 33: Body B, under the conditions stated previously, can be moved in any direction by any additional force, however small.

Prop. 34: Body B, under the same conditions as previously, cannot move more quickly than i t is impelled by the external force, even though the particles by which it is surrounded are in much swifter motion.

Prop. 35: When body B is thus moved by an external impulse, it receives the greatest part of its motion from the bodies by which i t is constantly surrounded, and not from the external force.

Prop. 36: If any body (e.g. , our hand) can move in any direction whatsoever with equal motion without offering any resistance to any bodies or meeting with any resistance from any other bodies, then in that space through which it would thus move there must necessarily be as many bodies moving in one direction as there are bodies moving in any other direction, their force of speed being equal to one another's and to that of the hand.

Prop. 37: If a body A can be moved in any direction whatsoever by any force, however small, it must necessarily be surrounded by bodies that are moving at the same speed as one another.

PART 3

Postulate Definitions Axioms Prop. I : The parts into which matter was first divided were not

round but angular. Prop. 2 : The force that brought it about that the particles of matter

should move about their own centers, at the same time brought

Contents 1 1 3

1 14 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy and Metaphysical Thoughts

it about that the angles of the particles should be worn away by coll ision with one another.

METAPHYSICAL THOUGHTS

PART I

Chap. I : Of Real Being, Fictitious Being, and Being of Reason Chap. 2 : What Essence Is, What Existence Is, What Idea Is, and

What Potency Is Chap. 3: Concerning the Necessary, the Impossible, the Possible,

and the Contingent Chap. 4: Of Duration and Time Chap. 5: Of Opposition, Order, Etc. Chap. 6: Of the One, the True, and the Good

PART 2

Chap. I : Of God's Eternity Chap. 2 : Of the Unity of God Chap. 3 : Of the Immeasurableness of God Chap. 4: Of the Immutability of God Chap. 5 : Of the Simpl icity of God Chap. 6: Of the Life of God Chap. 7 : Of God's Intellect Chap. 8: Of God's Will Chap. 9: Of God's Power Chap. 10: Of Creation Chap. I I : Of God's Concurrence Chap. 12: Of the Human Mind

Parts I and IP of Rene Descartes's

THE PRINCIPLES

OF PHILOSOPHY

demonstrated in the geometric manner

by

Benedict de Spinoza of Amsterdam.

To which are added his Metaphysical Thoughts,

in which are briefly explained the more difficult problems that arise in both the

general and the special part of Metaphysics.

Amsterdam. Published by Johannes Rieuwertsz,

in the quarter commonly called The Dirk van Assen-Steeg,

under the sign Martyrologium. 1 663.

Notes Without brackets are Spinoza's. Bracketed notes are those of Steven Barbone and Lee Rice (mam annotators for this work), translator Samuel Shirley, Spmoza's fnend Pieter Ballmg. and Michael L. Morgan. 1 [The frontispiece announces only Parts I and II of the PPC; Part I I I IS not mentioned here.

-5 B IL.R.]

1 1 6 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

PREFACE

To the honest reader, Lodewi jk Meyer gives greetings

It is the unanimous opinion of all who seek wisdom beyond the common lot that the best and surest way to discover and to teach truth is the method used by math­ ematicians in their study and exposition of the sciences, namely, that whereby conclusions are demonstrated from definitions, postulates, and axioms. And in­ deed rightly so. Because all sure and sound knowledge of what is unknown can be el icited and derived only from what is al ready known with certainty, this latter must first be built up from the ground as a solid foundation on which thereafter to construct the entire edifice of human knowledge, if that is not to collapse of its own accord or give way at the slightest blow. That the things familiar to mathe­ maticians under the title of definitions, postulates, and axioms are of this kind can­ not be doubted by anyone who has even the slightest acquaintance with that noble discipl ine. For definitions are merely the perspicuous explanations of the terms and names by which matters under discussion are designated, whereas pos­ tulates and axioms-that is, the common notions of the mind-are statements so clear and lucid that no one who has simply understood the words aright can pos­ sibly refuse assent.

But although this is so, you will find that with the exception of mathematics hardly any branch of learning is treated by th is method. Instead, a totally differ­ ent method is adopted, whereby the entire work is executed by means of defini­ tions and logical divisions interl inked in a chain, with problems and explanations interspersed here and there. For almost all who have appl ied themselves to es­ tabl ishing and setting out the sciences have believed, and many still do believe, that the mathematical method is peculiar to mathematics and is to be rejected as inappl icable to all other branches of learning.

In consequence, nothing of what they produce is demonstrated with conclu­ sive reasoning. They try to advance arguments that depend merely on l ikel ihood and probability, and in this way they thrust before the public a great medley of great books in which you may look in va in for sol idity and certainty. Disputes and strife abound, and what one somehow establishes with trivial arguments of no real weight is soon refuted by another, demol ished and shattered with the same weapons. So where the mind, eager for unshakable truth, had thought to find for its labors a placid stretch of water that it could navigate with safety and success, thereafter atta ining the haven of knowledge for which i t yearned, it finds itself tossed on a stormy sea of opinion, beset on all sides with tempests of dispute, hurled about and carried away on waves of uncerta inty, endlessly, with no hope of ever emerging therefrom.

Yet there have not been lacking some who have thought differently and, tak­ ing pity on the wretched plight of Philosophy, have distanced themselves from this universally adopted and habitual way of treating the sciences and have en-

Part I, Preface 1 1 7

tered upon a new and indeed a n arduous path bristl ing with difficulties, s o a s to leave to posterity the other parts of Ph ilosophy, besides mathematics, demon­ strated with mathematical method and with mathematical certainty. Of these, some have arranged in mathematical order and passed on to the world of letters a ph ilosophy already accepted and customarily taught in the schools, whereas oth­ ers have thus treated a new philosophy, discovered by their own exertions. For a long time, the many who undertook this task met with no success, but at last there arose that brightest star of our age, Rene Descartes. Mter bringing forth by a new method from darkness to l ight whatever had been inaccessible to the ancients, and in addition whatever could be wanting in his own age, he laid the unshak­ able foundations of philosophy on which numerous truths could be built with mathematical order and certainty, as he h imself effectively proved, and as is clearer than the midday sun to all who have paid careful attention to h is writings, for which no praise is too great.

Although the philosophical writings ofth is most noble and incomparable man exhibit the mathematical manner and order of demonstration, yet they are not composed in the style commonly used in Eucl id's Elements and other geometri­ cal works, the style wherein Definitions, Postulates, and Axioms are first enunci­ ated, followed by Propositions and their demonstrations. They are arranged in a very different way, which he calls the true and best way of teach ing, the Analytic way. For at the end of h is "Reply to Second Objections,"2 he acknowledges two modes of conclusive proof. One is by analysis, "which shows the true way by which a th ing is discovered methodically and, as it were, a priori"; the other is by syn­ thesis, "which employs a long series of definitions, postulates, axioms, theorems and problems, so that if any of the conclusions be denied, it can be shown im­ mediately that this is involved in what has preceded, and thus the reader, however reluctant and obstinate, is forced to agree."

However, although both kinds of demonstration afford a certainty that l ies be­ yond any risk of doubt, not everyone finds them equally useful and convenient. There are many who, being quite unacquainted with the mathematical sciences and therefore completely ignorant of the synthetic method in which they are arranged and of the analytic method by which they were discovered, are neither able themselves to understand nor to expound to others the things that are dis­ cussed and logically demonstrated in these books. Consequently, many who, ei­ ther carried away by blind enthusiasm or influenced by the authority of others, have become followers of Descartes have done no more than commit to memory h is opinions and doctrines. When the subject arises in conversation, they can only prate and chatter without offering any proof, as was once and still is the case with the followers of the Peripatetic ph ilosophy. Therefore, to provide them with some assistance, I have often wished that someone, skilled both in the analytic and syn­ thetic arrangement and thoroughly versed in Descartes's writings and expert in his philosophy, should set his hand to th is task, and undertake to arrange in syn-

2 [See AT?, 1 5 5-156; cf the slight variation In the French version at AT9, 1 2 1- 122 J

l i S Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

thetic order what Descartes wrote in analytic order, demonstrating it in the way familiar to geometricians. Indeed, though fully conscious of my incompetence and unfitness for such a task, I have frequently thought of undertaking it myself and have even made a start. But other distractions, which so often claim my at­ tention, have prevented its completion.

I was therefore delighted to hear from our Author that, while teaching Descartes's philosophy to a certain pupil of his, he had dictated to h im the whole of Part II of the Principia and some of Part III, demonstrated in that geometric style, and also the principal and more difficult questions that arise in metaphysics and remain unresolved by Descartes, and that, at the urgent entreaties and plead­ ings of h is friends, he has permitted these to be published as a single work, cor­ rected and ampl ified by himself. So I also commended this same project, at the same time gladly offering my services, if needed, to get this published. Further­ more I urged him - indeed, besought him - to set out Part I of the Principia as well in l ike order to precede the rest, so that the work, as thus arranged from its very beginning, might be better understood and give greater satisfaction . When he saw how reasonable was this proposal, he could not refuse the pleas of a friend and l ikewise the good of the reader. He further entrusted to my care the entire business both of printing and of publ ishing because he l ives in the country far from the city and so cannot give it his personal attention. 3

Such then, honest reader, are the contents of this l ittle book, namely, Parts I and II of Descartes's Principia Philosophiae together with a fragment of Part III, to which we have added, as an appendix, our Author's Cogitata Metaphysica. But when we here say Part I of the Principia, and the book's title so announces, we do not intend it to be understood that everyth ing Descartes says there is here set forth as demonstrated in geometric order. The title derives only from its main contents, and so the ch ief metaphysical themes that were treated by Descartes in his Med­ itations are taken from that book (omitting all other matters that concern Logic and are related and reviewed only in a h istorical way) . To do this more effectively, the Author has transposed word for word almost the entire passage at the end of the "Reply to the Second Set of Objections; which Descartes arranged in geo­ metric order ' He first sets out all Descartes's definitions and inserts Descartes's propositions among his own, but he does not place the axioms immediately after the definitions; he brings them in only after Proposition 4, changing their order so as to make it easier to prove them, and omitting some that he did not require.

Although our Author is well aware that these axioms (as Descartes h imself says in Postulate 7) can be proved as theorems and can even more neatly be classed as propositions, and al though we also asked h im to do this, being engaged in more important affairs he had only the space of two weeks to complete this work, and that is why he could not satisfy his own wishes and ours. He does at any rate add a brief explanation that can serve as a demonstration, postponing for another oc-

3 [It appears from Ep12. however, that Spmoza was able to make corrections to the page proofs J 4 [AT7. 160-170.J

Part I, Preface 1 19

casion a lengthier proof, complete in all respects, with view to a new edition to follow this hurried one. To augment th is, we shall also try to persuade him to com­ plete Part III in its entirety, "Concerning the Visible World" (of which we give here only a fragment, since the Author ended his instruction at th is poin t and we did not wish to deprive the reader of it, l ittle as it is). For this to be properly exe­ cuted, some propositions concerning the nature and property of Fluids will need to be inserted at various places in Part II, and I shall then do my best to persuade the Author to do this at the time. 5

It is not only in setting forth and explaining the Axioms that our Author fre­ quently diverges from Descartes but also in proving the Propositions themselves and the other conclusions, and he employs a logical proof far different from that of Descartes. But let no one take this to mean that he intended to correct the il­ lustrious Descartes in these matters, but that our Author's sole purpose in so do­ ing is to enable him the better to retain his already established order and to avoid increasing unduly the number of Axioms. For the same reason, he has also been compelled to prove many th ings that Descartes propounded without proof, and to add others that he completely omitted.

However, I should l ike it to be particularly noted that in all these writings, in Parts I and II and the fragment of Part III ofthe Principia and also in the Cogitata Metaphysica, our Author has simply given Descartes's opinions and their demon­ strations j ust as they are found in h is writings, or such as should val idly be deduced from the foundations laid by him. For having undertaken to teach h is pupil Descartes's philosophy, h is scruples forbade him to depart in the slightest degree from Descartes's views or to dictate anything that did not correspond with, or was contrary to, his doctrines. Therefore no one should conclude that he here teaches either his own views or only those of which he approves. For although he holds some of the doctrines to be true, and admits that some are his own additions, there are many he rejects as false, holding a very different opinion. 6

Of this sort, to single out one of many, are statements concerning the Will in the Schol ium to Proposition 15 of Part I of the Principia and in Chapter 1 2 , Part II of the Appendix, although they appear to be laboriously and meticulously proved. For he does not consider the Will to be distinct from the Intellect, far less endowed with freedom of that kind. Indeed, in making these assertions, as is clear from Part 4 of the Discourse on Method, the "Second Meditation," and other pas­ sages, Descartes merely assumes, and does not prove, that the human mind is an absolutely th inking substance. Although our Author does indeed admit that there is in Nature a thinking substance, he denies that this constitutes the essence of the human mind.7 He maintains that, j ust as Extension is not determined by any l imits, so Thought, too, is not determined by any l imits. And therefore, j ust as the

5 [ For evidence that Spmoza was developmg hlS own theory of flUids, see Ep6, 78-8 1 . ] 6 [Meyer notes three mam differences: the substantiality o f t he human soul, the dIStinction between

the Will and mtellect, and the freedom to suspend Judgment. Spinoza notes his differences with Descartes, see Ep2, 62-63, Ep2 1 , 1 54-158 J

7 [ef E2Pl l J

120 Principles orear/esian Philosophy

human body is not Extension absolutely, but only as determined in a particular way in accordance with the laws of extended Nature through motion and rest, so too the human mind or soul is not Thought absolutely, but only as determined in a particular way in accordance with the laws of th inking Nature through ideas, and one concludes that this must come into existence when the human body be­ gins to exist. From this definition , he thinks it is not difficult to prove that Will is not distinct from Intellect, far less is it endowed with the freedom that Descartes ascribes to i t. 8 Indeed, he holds that a faculty of affirming and denying is quite fic­ titious, that affirming and denying are nothing but ideas, and that other facul ties such as Intellect, Desire, etc., must be accounted as figments, or at least among those notions that men have formed through conceiving things in an abstract way, such as humanity, stoniness, and other things of that kind.

Here, too, we must not omit to mention that assertions found in some passages, that this or that surpasses human understanding, must be taken in the same sense (Le. , as giving only Descartes's opinion). This must not be regarded as expressing our Author's own view. All such things, he holds, and many others even more sub­ l ime and subtle, can not only be conceived by us clearly and distinctly but can also be expla ined quite satisfactorily, provided that the human intellect can be gUided to the search for truth and the knowledge of things along a path different from that which was opened up and leveled by Descartes. And so he holds that the foundations of the sciences laid by Descartes and the superstructure that he built thereon do not suffice to elucidate and resolve all the most difficul t prob­ lems that arise in metaphysics. Other foundations are required if we seek to raise our intellect to that pinnacle of knowledge.

Finally, to bring my preface to a close, we should l ike our readers to real ize that all that is here treated is given to the public for the sole purpose of searching out and disseminating truth and to urge men to the pursuit of a true and genuine philosophy. And so in order that all may reap therefrom as rich a profit as we sin­ cerely desire for them, before they begin reading we earnestly beg them to insert omitted passages in their proper place and carefully to correct printing errors that have crept in . Some of these are such as may be an obstacle in the way of per­ ceiving the force of the demonstration and the Author's meaning, as anyone will readily gather from looking at them.

8 [Cf EZP411; EZP49 Cor and Schol . ]

Part I, Prolegomenon 1 2 l

THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY

DEMONSTRATED IN THE GEOMETRIC MANNER

PART 1

Prolegomenon

Before coming to the Propositions and their Demonstrations, I have thought it helpful to give a concise account as to why Descartes doubted everything, the way in which he laid the solid foundations of the sciences, and finally the means by which he freed h imself from all doubts. I should indeed have arranged all this in mathematical order had I not considered that the prolixity involved in this form of presentation would be an obstacle to the proper understanding of all those things that ought to be beheld at a single glance, as in the case of a picture.

Descartes, then, so as to proceed with the greatest caution in h is enquiry, at­ tempted:

I . to put aside all prejudice, 2 . to discover the foundations on which everything should be bu ilt, 3 . to uncover the cause of error, 4. to understand everything clearly and distinctly.

To achieve his first, second, and third aims, he proceeded to call everything into dou bt, not indeed l ike a Skeptic whose sole aim is to doubt, but to free his mind from all prejudice so that he might finally discover the firm and unshakable foun­ dations of the sciences, which, if they existed, could thus not escape him. For the true principles of the sciences ought to be so clear and certa in that they need no proof, are placed beyond all hazard of doubt, and without them nothing can be demonstrated. These principles, after a lengthy period of doubting, he discovered. Now when he had found them, it was not difficult for him to distinguish true from false, to uncover the cause of error, and so to take precautions against assuming as true and certain what was false and doubtful.

To achieve h is fourth and final aim, that of understanding everything clearly and distinctly, h is ch ief rule was to enumerate the simple ideas out of which all others are compounded and to scrutinize each one separately. For when he could perceive simple ideas clearly and distinctly, he would doubtless understand with the same clarity and distinctness all the other ideas compounded from those sim­ ple ideas. Having thus outlined my program, I shall briefly explain in what man-

122 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

ner he called everything into doubt, discovered the true principles ofthe sciences, and extricated h imself from the difficul ties of doubt.

D oub t C oncerning All Things

First, then, he reviewed all those things he had gathered from h is senses- the sky, the earth, and the l ike, and even his own body-all of wh ich he had hitherto re­ garded as belonging to reality. And he doubted their certainty because he had found that the senses occasionally deceived him, and in dreams he had often been convinced that many things truly existed externally to himself, discovering after­ ward that he had been deluded. And finally there was the fact that he had heard others, even when awake, declare that they felt pain in l imbs they had lost long before 9 Therefore he was able to doubt, not without reason, even the existence of his own body. From all these considerations he could truly conclude that the senses are not a very strong foundation on which to build all science, for they can be called into doubt; certainty depends on other principles of which we can be more sure. Continuing h is enquiry, in the second place he turned to the consid­ eration of all universals, such as corporeal nature in general , its extension, like­ wise its figure, quantity, etc. , and also all mathematical truths. Although these seemed to him more certain than any of the things he had gathered from h is senses, yet he discovered a reason for doubting them . l o For others had erred even concerning these. And there was a particularly strong reason, an ancient bel ief, fixed in h is mind, that there was an all-powerful God who had created him as he was, and so may have caused him to be deceived even regarding those things that seemed very clear to him. I I This, then, is the manner in which he called every­ thing into doubt.

Th e Dis cov ery of th e F ound a ti on of All Sci enc e

Now in order to discover the true principles of the sciences, he proceeded to en­ quire whether he had called into doubt everything that could come within the scope of h is thought; thus he might find out whether there was not perchance still someth ing left that he had not yet doubted. For if in the course of thus doubting he should find someth ing that could not be called into doubt either for any of the previous reasons or for any other reason , he quite rightly considered that this must be established as a foundation on wh ich he could build all h is knowledge. I' And al though he had already, as it seemed, doubted everything-for he had doubted

9 [The fust two arguments are gIven 10 MedI , 1 3- 1 5 (AT?, H�20) and PPH IA4, whereas the thmi is nol given until Med6, 50 (AT7, 76-77) . ]

1 0 ]Med l , 1 5 (ATI, 20).] I I [Med l , 1 5-16 (ATI, 2 1-22).] 1 2 [Med2, 17 (ATI, 24).]

Part I, Prolegomenon 1 2 3

not only what he had gathered from h i s senses bu t also what he had perceived by intellect alone-yet there was still something left to be examined, namely, him­ self who was doing the doubting, not insofar as he consisted of head, hands, and other bodily parts (since he had doubted these) but only insofar as he was doubt­ ing, th inking, etc. Examining this carefully, he realized that he could not doubt it for any of the foregoing reasons. For whether he is dreaming or awake as he thinks, nevertheless he thinks, and is. 1 3 And although others, or even he himself, had erred with regard to other matters; nevertheless, because they were erring, they were. He could imagine no author of h is being so cunning as to deceive him on tha t score; for i t must be granted that he h imself exists as long as it is supposed that he is being deceived. In shor� whatever other reason for doubting be devised, there could be adduced none of such a kind as not at the same time to make him most certain of his existence. Indeed, the more reasons are adduced for doubting, the more arguments are simultaneously adduced to convince him of h is own ex­ istence. So, in whatever direction he turns in order to doubt, he is nevertheless compelled to utter these words: "I doubt, I think, therefore I am."14

Thus, in laying bare this truth, at the same time he also discovered the foun­ dation of all the sciences, and also the measure and rule for all other truths- that whatever is perceived as clearly and distinctly as this, is true. l 5

It is abundantly clear from the preceding that there can be no other founda­ tion for the sciences than th is; everything else can quite easily be called into doubt, but th is can by no means be doubted. However, with regard to th is foun­ dation, it should be particularly noted that the statement, "I doubt, I think, therefore I am," is not a syllogism with the major premise omitted . If i t were a syllogism, the premises should be clearer and better known than the conclusion Therefore I am', and so 'I am' would not be the prime basis of all knowledge. Furthermore, it would not be a certa in conclusion, for its truth would depend on universal premises which the Author had al ready called in to doubt. So 'I think, therefore I am' is a Single independent proposition, equivalent to the fol­ lowing- 'I am, while thinking'.

To avoid confusion in what follows (for this is a matter that must be perceived clearly and distinctly), we must next know what we are. For when this has been clearly and distinctly understood, we shall not confuse our essence with others. In order to deduce this from what has gone before, our Author proceeds as follows.

He recalls to mind all thoughts that he once had about himself, that h is soul is something tenuous l ike the wind or fire or the ether, infused among the denser parts of his body; that his body is better known to him than his soul; and that he perceives the former more clearly and distinctly. l 6 And he realizes that all this is clearly inconsistent with what he has so far understood. For he was able to doubt

" [Med2, 17-18 (An, 24-25) J

1 4 [Med2, 18 (An, 25); Discourse on Method 4 (AT6, 32-33) . 1 1 5 [Spinoza follows the Discourse on Method. rather than the Meditations or PPH, to deriVIng thIS

principle directly from the cogito.] 1 6 [Med2, 18 (An, 25-26) 1

124 Principles orear/esian Philosophy

his body, but not his own essence insofar as he was thinking. Furthermore, he per­ ceived these things neither clearly nor distinctly, and so, in accordance with the requirements of his method, he ought to reject them as false. Therefore, under­ standing that such things could not pertain to him insofar as he was as yet known to himself, he went on to ask what was that, pertaining pecul iarly to his essence, which he had not been able to call into doubt and which had compelled him to conclude h is own existence. Of this kind there were- that he wanted to take pre­ cautions against being deceived, that he desired to understand many th ings, that he doubted everything that he could not understand, that up to this point he af­ firmed one thing only and everything else he denied and rejected as false, that he imagined many things even against his will, and, finally, that he was conscious of many things as proceeding from his senses. Because he could infer his existence with equal certainty from each of these points and could list none of them as be­ longing to the things that he had called into doubt, and finally, because all these things can be conceived under the same attribute, it follows that all these things are true and pertain to h is nature. And so whenever he said, "I think," all the fol­ lowing modes of thinking were understood - doubting, understanding, affirming, denying, willing, non-will ing, imagining, and sensing 17

Here it is important to note the following points, which wi l l prove to be very useful later on when the distinction between mind and body is discussed. F irst, these modes of th inking are clearly and distinctly understood independently of other matters that are still in doubt. Second, the clear and distinct conception we have of them would be rendered obscure and confused if we were to intermingle with them any of the matters of which we are still in doubt.

Liber a ti on fr om All D oub ts

Finally, to achieve certainty about what he had called into doubt and to remove all doubt, he proceeds to enquire into the nature of the most perfect Being, and whether such exists. For when he realizes that there exists a most perfect Being by whose power all things are produced and preserved and to whose nature it is con­ trary that he should be a deceiver, then this will remove the reason for doubting that resulted from h is not knowing the cause of himself. For he will know that the faculty of distinguishing true from false was not given to him by a supremely good and truthful God in order that he might be deceived. And so mathematical truths, or all things that seem to him most evident, cannot be in the least suspect. 18 Then , to remove the other causes for doubting, he goes on to enquire how it comes about that we sometimes err. When he discovered that th is arises from our using our free will to assent even to what we have perceived only confusedly, he was immedi­ ately able to conclude that he can guard against error in the future provided that

1 7 [This enumeration IS taken from Med2, 20 (AT7, 28).J

I S [Med3, 34-35 (ATI, 5 1-52); Med5, 46-47 (AT7, 70-7 1 ) J

Part I, Prolegomenon 1 2 5

he gives assent only t o what he clearly and distinctly perceives. Th is i s something that each individual can easily obtain of himself because he has the power to con­ trol the will and thereby bring it about that it is restrained within the l imits of the intellect. l 9 But since in our earliest days we have been imbued with many preju­ dices from which we are not easily freed, in order that we may be freed from them and accept nothing but what we clearly and distinctly perceive, he goes on to enumerate all the simple notions and ideas from which all our thoughts are com­ pounded and to examine them one by one, so that he can observe in each of them what is clear and what is obscure. For thus he will easily be able to distinguish the clear from the obscure and to form clear and distinct thoughts. So he will easily discover the real distinction between soul and body, and what is clear and what is obscure in the deliverance of our senses, and lastly wherein dreaming differs from waking.2o Thereafter he could no longer doubt that he was awake nor could he be deceived by his senses. Thus he freed h imself from all doubts l isted previously.

However, before I here make an end, I th ink I ought to satisfY those who argue as follows: "Because the existence of God is not self-evident to us, it seems that we can never be certain of anything, nor can it ever be known to us that God exists. For from premises that are uncertain (and we have said that, as l ong as we do not know our own origin), nothing certa in can be concluded."

To remove this difficulty, Descartes replies in the following manner. From the fact that we do not as yet know whether the author of our origin may have created us such as to be deceived even in those matters that appear to us most certain, it by no means follows that we can doubt those things that we understand clearly and distinctly through themselves or through a process of reasoning, that is, as long as we are paying attention to it We can doubt only those things previously demon­ strated to be true, which we may remember when we are no longer attending to the reasoning from which we deduced them, and wh ich we have thus forgotten. Therefore, although the existence of God can be known not through itself but only through something else, we can nevertheless atta in certain knowledge of God's existence provided that we carefully attend to all the premises from which we conclude it See Principia Part I Article 1 3 , and "Reply to Second Objections," No. 3 , and at the end of the "Fifth Meditation."

However, because some do not find this reply satisfactory, I shall give another. When we were speaking previously of the certainty and sureness of our existence, we saw that we concluded i t from the fact that, in whatever direction we turned the mind's eye, we did not find any reason for doubting that did not by that very fact convince us of our existence. This was so whether we were considering our own nature, whether we were imagining the author of our nature to be a cunning deceiver- in short, whatever reason for doubting we invoked, external to our­ selves. Hitherto we had not found this to be so in the case of any other matter. For example, while attending to the nature of a triangle, although we are compelled

1 9 [Med4, 35-42 (ATI, 52...o2).J 20 [Med6, 47-59 (ATI, 71-90) J

126 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

to conclude that its three angles are equal to two right angles, we cannot reach this same conclusion if we suppose that we may be deceived by the author of our nature. Yet this very supposition assured us of our existence with the utmost cer­ tainty. So it is not the case that, wherever we turn the mind's eye, we are com­ pelled to conclude that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles; on the contrary, we find a reason for doubting i t in that we do not possess an idea of God such as to render i t impossible for us to th ink that God is a deceiver. For one who does not possess the true idea of God-which at the moment we sup­ pose we do not possess- may qu ite as easily th ink that his author is a deceiver as th ink that he is not a deceiver, just as one who does not have the idea of a trian­ gle may indifferently think its angles are equal or not equal to two right angles.

Therefore we concede that, except for our existence, we cannot be absolutely certain of anyth ing, however earnestly we attend to its demonstration, as long as we do not have the clear and distinct conception of God that makes us affirm that God is supremely truthful, j ust as the idea we have of a triangle makes us con­ clude that its three angles are equal to two right angles. But we deny that, for th is reason , we cannot attain knowledge of anything. For, as is evident from all that has already been sa id, the whole matter hinges on this alone, that we are able to form such a conception of God as so disposes us that it is not as easy for us to th ink that God is a deceiver as to th ink that he is not a deceiver, a conception that com­ pels us to affirm that he is supremely truthful. When we have formed such an idea, the reason for doubting mathematical truths wil l be removed. For in what­ ever direction we now turn the mind's eye with the purpose of doubting one of these truths, we shall not find anything that itself does not make us conclude that this truth is most certa in, j ust as was the case with regard to our existence.

For example, if after discovering the idea of God we attend to the nature of a triangle, its idea will compel us to affirm that its three angles are equal to two righ t angles, whereas if we attend to the idea of God, this too will compel us to affirm that he is supremely truthful, the author and continuous preserver of our nature, and therefore that he is not deceiving us with regard to this truth. And attending to the idea of God (which we now suppose we have discovered), it will be just as impossible for us to th ink that he is a deceiver as to think, when attending to the idea of a triangle, that its three angles are not equal to two right angles. And just as we can form such an idea of a triangle in spite of not knowing whether the au­ thor of our natu re is deceiving us, so too we can achieve a clear idea of God and set it before us even though also doubting whether the author of our nature is de­ ceiving us in all things. And provided we possess this idea, in whatever way we may have acquired i t, i t will be enough to remove all doubts, as has just now been shown.

So having made these points, I reply as follows to the difficulty that has been raised. It is not as long as we do not know of God's existence (for I have not spo­ ken of that) but as long as we do not have a clear and distinct idea of God, that we cannot be certa in of anything. Therefore, if anyone wishes to argue against me, h is argument will have to be as follows: "We cannot be certain of anything until we have a clear and distinct idea of God. But we cannot have a clear and distinct

Part 1, Delini!io"" 127

idea of God as long as we do not know whether the author of our nature is de­ ceiving us. Therefore, we cannot be certain of anything as l ong as we do not know whether the author of our nature is deceiving us, etc ." To this I reply by conced­ ing the major premise and denying the minor. For we do have a clear and distinct idea of a triangle, although we do not know whether the author of our nature is deceiving us; and granted that we have such an idea of God, as I have just shown at some length, we cannot doubt h is existence or any mathematical truth.

With th is as preface, I now enter upon the work itself

Defini ti ons

I . Under the word Thought, I include all that is in us and of which we are im­ mediately conscious. Thus all operations of the will, intellect, imagination, and senses are thoughts. But I have added ' immediately' so as to exclude those things that are their consequences. For example, voluntary motion has thought for its starting poin t, but in itself it is still not thought.

2 . By the word Idea, I understand the specific form (forma) of a thought, through the immediate perception of which I am conscious of that same thought.

So whenever I express someth ing in words while understanding what I am say­ ing, this very fact makes it certain that there is in me the idea of that which is meant by those words. And so I do not apply the term 'ideas' simply to images de­ picted in the fantasy; indeed I do not here term these 'ideas' at all, insofar as they are depicted in the corporeal fantasy (i .e. , in some part of the bra in) bu t only in­ sofar as they communicate their form to the mind itself when this is directed to­ ward that part of the bra in.

3 . By the objective reality of an idea, I understand the being of that wh ich is presented through the idea, insofar as i t is in the idea. 2 1

In the same way one can speak of 'objective perfection' or 'objective art', etc . For whatever we perceive as being in the objects of ideas is objectively in the ideas themselves.

4. When things are, in themselves, such as we perceive them to be, they are said to be formally in the objects of ideas, and eminently when they are not just such in themselves as we perceive them to be but are more than sufficient to ac­ count fully for our perception .

Note that when I say that the cause contains eminently the perfections of its effect, I mean that the cause contains the perfections of the effect with a higher degree of excellence than does the effect itself See also Axiom 8.

5 . Everyth ing in wh ich there is something that we perceive as immediately in­ hering in a subject, or through which there exists someth ing that we perceive (i .e . , some property, quality or attribute whose real idea is in us), is called substance. For of substance itself, taken precisely, we have no other idea than that it is a th ing

2 1 [ef. Medl, 27-28 (AT7, 40--41 ) J

128 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

in which there exists formally or eminently that something which we perceive (i .e . , that something which is objectively in one of our ideas).

6. Substance in which thought immediately inheres is called Mind (Mens). I here speak of 'Mind' rather than 'Soul' (anima) because the word 'soul' is

equ ivocal, and is often used to mean a corporeal thing. 7 . Substance that is the immediate subject of extension and of acciden ts

that presuppose extension, such as figure, position, and local motion, is called Body.

Whether what is called Mind and what is called Body is one and the same sub­ stance, or two different substances, is something to be enquired into later.

8. Substance that we understand through itself to be supremely perfect, and in which we conceive nothing at all that involves any defect or l imitation of per­ fection, is called God.

9. When we say that something is contained in the nature or conception of some thing, that is the same as saying that it is true of that th ing or can be truly af­ firmed of it. 22

10. Two substances are said to be distinct in reality when each one can exist without the other.

We have here omitted the Postulates of Descartes because in what follows we do not draw any conclusions from them. But we earnestly ask readers to read them through and to th ink them over carefully. 23

Axioms24

1 . We arrive at the knowledge and certainty of some unknown th ing only through the knowledge and certainty of another th ing that is prior to it in certainty and knowledge.

2 . There are reasons that make us doubt the existence of our bodies. This has in fact been shown in the Prolegomenon, and so is here posited as an

axiom. 3 . If we have anything besides mind and body, th is is less known to us than

mind and body.

22 [ In each of the precedmg eight deftmhons a word or phrase has been Italicized to mdicate the de{iniendum, but In this defmltlon and the next there is no text italiCized I t appears reasonable to assume that Def9 has as de{iniendum contained in the nature or conception of some thing and DeflO distinct in reality.j

23 [The seven postulates (AT7, 162-164) or demandes In the French version (AT9, 125-127) are not postulates in the Euclidean sense but are requests from Descartes to hiS readers to ponder carefully what can be doubted, the precedmg defmitions, and especially the dIStinction between clear, diS­ hnct perception and obscure, confused perception.]

24 [The first three axIOms are not taken from Descartes; but Meyer, in h IS preface, has mentIoned that Spmoza would expound Descartes's opimons and demonstrations "just as they are found m hIS wntmgs, or such as should vahdly be deduced from the foundations laId by hIm "]

Part 1, Proposition 4 129

It should be noted that these axioms do not affirm anything about th ings ex­ ternal to us, but only such thing. as we find within ourselves insolilr as we are th inking things.

PROPOSITION 1 We cannot be absolutely certnin of anything as long as we do not know that we exist.

Proof This proposition is self-eviden� for he who absolutely does not know that he is l ikewise does not know that he is a being affirming or denying, that is, that he certa inly affirms or denies.

Here i t should be noted that although we may affirm or deny many things with great certa inty while not attending to the fact that we exist, unless this is presu]>' posed as indubitable, everything could be called into doubt.

PROPOSITION 2 '[ am' must be self-evident.

Proof If th is be denied, it will therefore be known only through something else, the knowledge and certainty of which will be prior in us to the statement 'I am' (Ax. I) . But this is absurd (Prop. I ) . Therefore i t must be self-evident. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 3 '[ am', insofar as the 'I' is a thing consisting of body, is not a first principle and is not known through itself

Proof There are certain thing. that make us doubt the existence of our body (Ax. 2). Therefore (Ax. I) we shall not attain certa inty of this except through the knowledge and certa inty of something else that is prior to it in knowledge and cer­ tainty. Therefore the statement 'I am', insofar as T am a thing consisting of body, is not a first principle and is not known through itself. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 4 '[ am' cannot be the first known principle except insofar as we think. Proof The statement 'I am a corporeal th ing, or a thing consisting of body' is not a first-known principle (Prop. 3), nor aga in am 1 certain of my existence in­ solilr as 1 consist of anything other than mind and body. For if we consist of any­ thing different from mind and body, this is less well known to us than body (Ax. 3) . Therefore 'I am' cannot be the first known thing except insofar as we th ink. Q.E.D.

Corollary From this it is obvious that mind, or a th inking thing, is better known than body.

But for a fuller explanation read Part 1 of the Principia Arts. I I and 1 2 .

Scholium Everyone perceives with the utmost certainty that he affirms, denies, doubts, understands, imagines, etc . , or that he exists as doubting, understanding,

1 30 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

affirming, etc . - in short, as th inking. Nor can this be called into doubt. There­ fore the statement '[ th ink' or '[ am, as thinking' is the unique (Prop. I) and most certain basis of all philosophy. Now in order to achieve the greatest certainty in the sciences, our aim and purpose can be no other than this, to deduce everything from the strongest first prinCiples and to make the inferences as clear and distinct as the first principles from which they are deduced. It therefore clearly follows that we must consider as most certa inly true everyth ing that is equally evident to us and that we perceive with the same clearness and distinctness as the already dis­ covered first principle, and also everyth ing that so agrees with this first principle and so depends on it that we cannot doubt it without also having to doubt this first principle.

But to proceed with the utmost caution in reviewing these matters, at the first stage [ shall admit as equally evident and equally clearly and distinctly perceived by us only those things that each of us observes in himself insofar as he is engaged in th inking. Such are, for example, that he wills th is or that, that he has definite ideas of such-and-such a kind, and that one idea contains in itself more reality and perfection than another-namely, that the one that contains objectively the be­ ing and perfection of substance is far more perfect than one that contains only the objective perfection of some accident, and, finally, that the idea of a supremely perfect being is the most perfect of all. These things, [ say, we perceive not merely with equal sureness and clarity but perhaps even more distinctly; for they affirm not only that we think but also how we think.

Further, we shall also say that those things that cannot be doubted without at the same time casting doubt on this unshakable foundation of ours are also in agreement with this first principle. For example, if anyone should doubt whether something can come from nothing, he will be able at the same time to doubt whether we, as long as we are thinking, are. For if [ can affirm something of noth­ ing- in effect, that nothing can be the cause of something-[ can at the same time and with the same right affirm thought of nothing, and say that [, as long as [ am thinking, am nothing. Because [ find this impossible, it will also be impos­ s ible for me to th ink that something may come from noth ing.

With these considerations in mind, [ have decided at this point to l ist here in order those things that at present seem to us necessary for future progress, and to add to the number of axioms . For these are indeed set forth by Descartes as axioms at the end of his "Reply to the Second Set of Objections," and [ do not aim at greater accuracy than he. However, not to depart from the order we have been pursuing, [ shall try to make them somewhat clearer, and to show how one depends on an­ other and all on this one first principle, '[ am, while th inking', or how their cer­ tainty and reasonableness is of the same degree as that of the first principle.

Axi oms T a k en from D es cartes

4. There are different degrees of reality or being; for substance has more real­ ity than accident or mode, and infinite substance, more than finite substance.

Part I, Axioms Taken /Tom Descartes 1 3 1

Therefore there i s more objective reality i n the idea of substance than i n the idea of accident, and in the idea of infinite substance than in the idea of finite sub­ stance.25"

This axiom is known simply from contemplating our ideas, of whose existence we are certa in because they are modes of th inking. For we know how much real­ ity or perfection the idea of substance affirms of substance, and how much the idea of mode affirms of mode. This being so, we also necessarily real ize that the idea of substance contains more objective reality than the idea of some accident, etc. See Schol ium Prop. 4.

5. A thinking th ing, if it knows of any perfections that it lacks, will immedi­ ately give these to itself, if they are within its power.26

This everyone observes in h imself insofar as he is a thinking thing. Therefore (Schol ium Prop. 4) we are most certain of it. And for the same reason, we are just as certa in of the following:

6. In the idea or concept of every thing, there is contained either possible or necessary existence. (See Axiom 10 , Descartes.)

Necessary existence is contained in the concept of God, or a supremely per­ fect being; for otherwise he would be conceived as imperfect, which is contrary to what is supposed to be conceived . Contingent or possible existence is contained in the concept of a l imited thing.

7. No th ing, nor any perfection of a th ing actually existing, can have noth ing, or a nonexisting thing, as the cause of its existence.

I have demonstrated in the Scholium Prop. 4 that this axiom is as clear to us as is 'I am, when thinking'.

8. Whatever there is of reality or perfection in any thing exists formally or em­ inently in its first and adequate cause.27

By 'eminently' I understand: when the cause contains all the reality of the ef­ fect more perfectly than the effect itself. By 'formally': when the cause contains all the reality of the effect equally perfectly.

This axiom depends on the preceding one. For if it were supposed that there is nothing in the cause, or less in the cause than in the effect, then nothing in the cause would be the cause of the effect. But this is absurd (Ax. 7). Therefore it is not the case that anything whatsoever can be the cause of a certain effect; it must be precisely a thing in which there is eminently or at least formally all the per­ fection that is in the effect.

9. The objective reality of our ideas requires a cause in which that same real­ ity is contained not only objectively but also formally or eminently.28

This axiom, although misused by many, is universally admitted, for when somebody conceives someth ing new, everyone wants to know the cause of this

" [Cf. Med3, 27-28 (AT7, 40-42).J 26 [Cf. Med3, 32-33 (ATI, 48).J

Z7 [Cf. Med3, 28 (ATI, 4O-41 ) . J 28 [Cf. Med3 , 28 (ATI, 41-42) J

1 32 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

concept or idea. Now when they can assign a cause in which is contained for­ mally or eminently as much reality as is contained objectively in that concept, they are satisfied. This is made quite clear by the example of a machine, which Descartes adduces in Art. 17 Part I Principia.29 Similarly, if anyone were to ask whence i t is that a man has the ideas of h is thought and of h is body, no one can fail to see that he has them from h imself, as containing formally everything that h is ideas contain objectively. Therefore if a man were to have some idea that con­ tained more of objective reality than he himself contained of formal reality, then of necessity we should be driven by the natural l ight to seek another cause out­ side the man himself, a cause that contained all that perfection formally or emi­ nently. And apart from that cause no one has ever assigned any other cause that he has conceived so clearly and distinctly.

Furthermore, as for the truth of th is axiom, it depends on the previous ones. By Axiom 4 there are different degrees of reality or being in ideas. Therefore (Ax. 8) they need a more perfect cause in accordance with their degree of perfection . But because the degrees of reality that we observe in ideas are not in the ideas in­ sofar as they are considered as modes of th inking but insornr as one presents sub­ stance and another merely a mode of substance- or, in brief, insornr as they are considered as images of things- hence i t clearly follows that there can be granted no other first cause of ideas than that which, as we have just shown, all men un­ derstand clearly and distinctly by the natural l ight, namely, one in which is con­ tained formally or eminently the same reality that the ideas have objectively. 30

To make this conclusion more clearly understood, I shall illustrate it with one or two examples. If anyone sees some books (imagine one to be that of a distin­ guished philosopher and the other to be that of some trifler) written in one and the same hand, and if he pays no attention to the meaning of the words (i .e . , in­ sofar as they are symbols) but only to the shape of the writing and the order of the letters, he will find no distinction between them such as to compel him to seek different causes for them. They will appear to him to have proceeded from the same cause and in the same manner. But if he pays attention to the meaning of the words and of the language, he will find a considerable distinction between them. He will therefore conclude that the first cause of the one book was very dif­ ferent from the first cause of the other, and that the one cause was in fact more perfect than the other to the extent that the meaning of the language of the two books, or their words considered as symbols, are found to differ from one another.

I am speaking of the first cause of books, and there must necessarily be one al­ though I admit- indeed, I take for granted-that one book can be transcribed from another, as is self-evident.

The same point can also be clearly illustrated by the example of a portra it, let us say, of some prince. If we pay attention only to the materials of which it is made, we shall not find any distinction between it and other portraits such as to compel

2. [Cf. Repl , AD, 104-106.J

30 We are also certam of tius because we expenence I t ourselves insofar as we are thinking. See pre­ ceding Schohum.

Part 1, Proposition 5 13 3

us to look for different causes. Indeed, there will be nothing to prevent us from thinking that it was copied from another l ikeness, and that one again from an­ other, and so ad infinitum. For we shall be qu ite satisfied that there need be no other cause for i ts production. But if we attend to the image insofar as i t is the im­ age of something, we shall immediately be compelled to seek a first cause such as formally or eminently contains what that image contains representatively. I do not see what more need be said to confirm and elucidate this axiom.

10. To preserve a th ing, no lesser cause is required than to produce it in the first place.

From the fact that at this moment we are th inking, i t does not necessarily fol­ low that we shall hereafter be thinking. For the concept that we have of our thought does not involve, or does not contain, the necessary existence of the thought. I can clearly and distinctly conceive the thought even though I suppose it not to exist. 3 1 Now the nature of every cause must contain i n itself o r involve the perfection of its effect (Ax. 8). Hence it clearly follows that there must be someth ing in us or ex­ ternal to us that we have not yet understood, whose concept or nature involves ex­ istence, and that is the reason why our thought began to exist and also continues to exist. For although our thought began to exist, its nature and essence does not on that account involve necessary existence any the more than befure it existed, and so in order to persevere in existing it stands in need of the same force that it needs to begin existing. And what we here say about thought must be said about every th ing whose essence does not involve necessary existence.

I I . Of every thing that exists, it can be asked what is the cause or reason why it exists. See Descartes, Axiom I .

Because to exist is something positive, we cannot say that i t has nothing for its cause (Ax. 7). Therefore we must assign some positive cause or reason why it ex­ ists. And this must be either external (Le., outside the thing itself) or else internal (Le. , included in the nature and definition of the existing thing itself).

The four propositions that follow are taken from Descartes.

PROPOSITION 5 The existence of Cod is known solely {rom the consideration of his nature.

Proof To say that something is contained in the nature or concept of a th ing is the same as to say that it is true of that th ing (Def. 9). But necessary existence is contained in the concept of Cod (Ax. 6). Therefore it is true to say of Cod that there is necessary existence in h im, or that he exists "

Scholium From this proposition there follow many important consequences. Indeed, on this fact alone- that existence perta ins to the nature of Cod, or that the concept of Cod involves necessary existence j ust as the concept of a triangle involves its three angles being equal to two right angles, or that h is existence, just

3 1 This IS something everyone discovers In hnnself, insofar as he IS a thmkmg thmg.

32 [ef. Med5, 43-46 (AT7, 65-69); E 1 P l l Deml; KVlIlIl-2 ]

1 34 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

l ike h is essence, is an eternal truth - depends alrnost all knowledge of the attrib­ utes of God through which we are brought to love of hirn and to the highest blessedness. Therefore it is rnuch to be desired that rnankind should corne round to our opinion on this subject.

I do indeed adrnit that there are sorne prejudices that preven t this frorn being so easily understood by everyone. 3 3 If anyone, rnoved by goodwill and by the sim­ ple love of truth and his own true advantage, comes to look at the matter closely and to reflect on what is contained in the "Fifth Meditation" and the end of "Replies to the First Set of Objections," and also on what we say about Eternity in Chapter I Part 2 of our Appendix, he will undoubtedly understand the matter quite clearly and will in no way be able to doubt whether he has an idea of God (which is, of course, the first foundation of hurnan blessedness). For when he re­ al izes that God is completely different in kind from other things in respect of essence and existence, he will at once see clearly that the idea of God is far dif­ ferent from the ideas of other things. Therefore there is no need to detain the reader any longer on this subject.

PROPOSITION 6 The existence of God is proved a posteriori from the mere fact that the idea of him is in us.

Proof The objective reality of any of our ideas requires a cause in which that same reality is contained not just objectively but formally or eminently (Ax. 9) . Now we do have the idea of God (Defs. 2 and 8), and the objective reality of this idea is not contained in us either formally or eminently (Ax. 4), nor can it be con­ tained in anyth ing other than God himself (Def. 8). Therefore th is idea of God, which is in us, requires God for its cause, and therefore God exists (Ax. 7) .'4

Scholium There are some who deny that they have any idea of God, and yet, as they declare, they worship and love him. And though you were to set before them the definition of God and the attributes of God, you will meet with no more success than if you were to labor to teach a man blind from birth the differences of colors as we see them. However, except to consider them as a strange type of creature halfway between man and beas� we should pay small heed to their words. How else, I ask, can we show the idea of some thing than by giving its definition and explaining its attributes? Because this is what we are doing in the case of the idea of God, there is no reason for us to be concerned over the words of men who deny the idea of God simply on the grounds that they cannot form an image of him in their bra in.

Furthermore, we should note that when Descartes quotes Axiom 4 to show that the objective reality of the idea of God is not contained in us either formally or eminently, he takes for granted that everyone knows that he is not an infinite sub­ stance, that is, supremely intelligent, supremely powerful , etc. , and this he is en-

33 Read Principia Part 1 Art 16 . 34 [ef. Med3, 28-3 1 (AT7, 41J..-45 ) J

Part 1, Proposition 7 13 5

titled to do. For he who knows that he thinks, also knows that he doubts many things and that he does not understand everything clearly and distinctly.

Finally, we should note that it also follows clearly from Definition 8 that there cannot be a number of Gods, but only one God, as we clearly demonstrate in Proposition I I of this Part, and in Part 2 of our Appendix, Chapter 2 .

PROPOSITION 7 The existence of God is also proved {rom the fact that we ourselves exist while having the idea of him.

Proof If I had the force to preserve myself, I would be of such a nature that I would involve necessary existence (Lemma 2) . Therefore (Corollary Lemma I ) m y nature would contain all perfections. But I find i n myself, insofar as I a m a thinking thing, many imperfections-as that I doubt, desire, etc .-and of this I am certa in (Schol ium Prop. 4). Therefore I have no force to preserve myself. Nor can I say that the reason I now lack those perfections is that I now will to deny them to myself, for this would be clearly inconsistent with Lemma I , and with what I clearly find in myself (Ax. 5) .

Further, I cannot now exist, while I am existing, without being preserved ei­ ther by myself- if indeed I have that force-or by someth ing else that does have that force (Axioms 10 and I I ) . But I do exist (Schol ium Prop. 4), and yet I do not have the force to preserve myself, as has just now been proved. Therefore I am preserved by something else. But not by something else that does not have the force to preserve itself (by the same reasoning whereby I have just demonstrated that I am not able to preserve myself). Therefore it must be by something else that has the force to preserve itself; that is (Lemma 2) , someth ing whose nature in­ volves necessary existence; that is (Corollary Lemma I ) , something that contains all the perfections that I clearly understand to pertain to a supremely perfect be­ ing. Therefore a supremely perfect being exists; that is (Def. 8), God exists. Q.E.D.

Scholium To demonstrate this proposition Descartes assumes the following two axioms:

I . That which can effect what is greater or more difficult can also effect what is less.

2 . It is a greater thing to create or (Ax. 1 0) to preserve substance than the at­ tributes or properties of substance.

What he means by these axioms I do not know. For what does he call easy, and what difficult? Nothing is said to be easy or difficult in an absolute sense, but only with respect to its cause. So one and the same th ing can be said at the same time to be easy and difficul t in respect of different causes. 3 5 Now if, of things that can

3 5 Take as only one example the spider, which eaSily weaves a web that men would find vel}' difficult to weave On the other hand, men fmd it qUite easy to do many thmgs that are perhaps ImpoSSible for angels.

1 36 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

be effected by the same cause, he calls those difficult that need great effort and those easy that need less (e.g., the force that can raise fifty pounds can raise twenty­ five pounds twice as easily) then surely the axiom is not absolutely true, nor can he prove from it what he aims to prove. For when he says, "If I had the force to preserve myself, I should also have the force to give myself all the perfections that I lack" (because th is latter does not require as much power) , I would grant him that the strength that I expend on preserving myself could effect many other thing. far more easily had I not needed it to preserve myself, but I deny that, as long as I am using it to preserve myself,36 I can direct it to effecting other th ings however much easier, as can clearly be seen in our example.

And the difficulty is not removed by saying that, because I am a th inking th ing, I must necessarily know whether I am expending all my strength in preserving my­ self, and whether this is also the reason why I do not give myself the other per­ fections. For-apart from the fact that this point is not at issue, but only how the necessity of this proposition follows from this axiom- if I knew this, I should be a greater being and perhaps require greater strength than I have so as to preserve myself in that greater perfection. Again, I do not know whether it is a greater task to create or preserve substance than to create or preserve its attributes. That is, to speak more clearly and in more philosophic terms, I do not know whether a sub­ stance, so as to preserve its attributes, does not need the whole of its virtue and essence with which i t may be preserving itself.

But let us leave this and examine further what our noble Author here intends; that is, what he understands by 'easy' and what by 'difficult'. I do not think, nor can I in any way be convinced, that by 'difficult' he understands that which is im­ p06sible (and therefore cannot be conceived in any way as coming into being), and by 'easy', that which does not imply any contradiction (and therefore can read­ ily be conceived as coming into being) -although in the "Third Meditation" he seems at first glance to mean this when he says: "Nor ought I to th ink that per­ haps those things that I lack are more difficult to acquire than those that are al­ ready in me. For on the contrary it is obvious that it was far more difficult for me, a th inking th ing or substance, to emerge from noth ing than . . . ", etc. 37 Th is would not be consistent with the Author's words nor would i t smack of h is genius. For, passing over the first point, there is no relationship between the possible and the impossible, or between the intell igible and the nonintell igible, just as there is no relationship between something and nothing, and power has no more to do with impossible thing. than creation and generation, with nonentities; so there can be no comparison between them. Besides, I can compare things and understand their relationship only when I have a clear and distinct conception of them all . So I deny that it follows that he who can do the impossible can also do the possi­ ble. What sort of conclusion, I ask, would this be? That if someone can make a square circle, he will also be able to make a circle wherein all the l ines drawn from

36 [I have diverged from the punctuabon of Gebhardt .- S.S . ]

" ICf. Med3, 32-ll (AT7, 48) I

Part 1, Proposition 7 1 3 7

the center to the circumference are equal. Or i f someone can bring i t about that 'nothing' can be acted upon, and can use it as material to produce something, he will also have the power to make someth ing from something. For, as I have said, there is no agreement, or analogy, or comparison or any relationship whatsoever between these things and things l ike these. Anyone can see this, if only he gives a little attention to the matter. Therefore I th ink this quite irreconcilable with Descartes's genius.

But if I attend to the second of the two axioms j ust now stated, i t appears that what he means by 'greater' and 'more difficult' is 'more perfect', and by 1esser' and 'easier', 1ess perfect'. Yet th is, again, seems very obscure, for there is here the same difficulty as before. As before, I deny that he who can do the greater can, at the same time and with the same effort (as must be supposed in the proposition), do the lesser.

Again, when he says: "It is a greater thing to create or preserve substance than its attributes," surely he cannot understand by attributes that which is formally contained in substance and differs from substance itself only by conceptual ab­ straction. For then i t would be the same thing to create substance as to create attributes. Nor again, by the same reasoning, can he mean the properties of sub­ stance which necessarily follow from its essence and definition.

Far less can he mean -and yet he appears to-the properties and attributes of another substance. For instance, if I say that I have the power to preserve myself, a finite th inking substance, I cannot for that reason say that I also have the power to give myself the perfections of infinite substance, which differs totally in essence from my essence. For the force or essence whereby I preserve myself in my being is qui te different in kind from the force or essence whereby absolutely infinite sub­ stance preserves itself, and from which its powers and properties are distinguish­ able only by abstract reason . 38 So even though I were to suppose that I preserve myself, if I wanted to conceive that I could give myself the perfections of ab­ solutely infinite substance, I should be supposing nothing other than this, that I could reduce my entire essence to nothing and create an infinite substance anew. This would be much more, surely, than merely to suppose that I can preserve my­ self, a finite substance.

Therefore, because by the terms 'attributes' or 'properties' he can mean none of these things, there remain only the qual ities that substance itself contains em­ inently (as th is or that thought in the mind, which I clearly perceive to be lacking in me), but not the qual ities that another substance contains eminently (as th is or that motion in extension; for such perfections are not perfections for me, a think­ ing thing, and therefore they are not lacking to me). But then what Descartes wants to prove-that if I am preserving myself, I also have the power to give my­ self all the perfections that I clearly see as pertaining to a most perfect being -can in no way be concluded from this axiom, as is quite clear from what I have said

38 Note that the force by which substance preselVes Itself IS nothtng but lts essence, dlffenng from It only In name. ThiS wtll be a pamcular feature of our dISCussion to the AppendiX, concernmg the power of God

1 38 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

previously. However, not to leave the matter unproved, and to avoid all confusion, I have thought it advisable first of all to demonstrate the following Lemmas, and thereafter to construct on them the proof of Proposition 7.

Lemma I The more perfect a thing is by its own nature, the greater the exis­ tence it involves, and the more necessary is the existence. Conversely, the more a th ing by its own nature involves necessary existence, the more perfect it is.

Proof Existence is contained in the idea or concept of everything (Ax.6). Then let it be supposed that A is a thing that has ten degrees of perfection. I say that its concept involves more existence than if it were supposed to con tain only five de­ grees of perfection. Because we cannot affirm any existence of noth ing (see Schol ium Prop. 4), in proportion as we in thought subtract from its perfection and thereIore conceive it as participating more and more in noth ing, to that extent we also deny the possibil ity of its existence. So if we conceive its degrees of perfec­ tion to be reduced indefinitely to nought or zero, it will contain no existence, or absolutely impossible existence. But, on the other hand, if we increase i ts degrees of perfection indeIinitely, we shall conceive it as involving the utmost existence, and therefore the most necessary existence. That was the first th ing to be proved. Now since these two things can in no way be separated (as is quite clear from Ax­ iom 6 and the whole of Part I of this work), what we proposed to prove in the sec­ ond place clearly follows.

Note I. Although many things are said to exist necessarily solely on the grounds that there is given a cause determined to produce them, it is not of th is that we are here speaking; we are speaking only of that necessity and possibility that fol­ lows solely from consideration of the nature or essence of a th ing, without taking any account of its cause.

Note 2 . We are not here speaking of beauty and other 'perfections', which, out of superstition and ignorance, men have thought fit to call perfections; by per­ fection I understand only reality or being. For example, I perceive that more re­ al ity is contained in substance than in modes or accidents . So I understand clearly that substance contains more necessary and more perfect existence than is con­ tained in accidents, as is well established from Axioms 4 and 6.

Corollary Hence it follows that whatever involves necessary existence is a supremely perfect being, or God.

Lemma 2 The nature of one who has the power to preserve himself involves necessary existence.

Proof He who has the force to preserve himself has also the force to create h im­ self (Ax. 1 0) ; that is (as everyone will readily admit), he needs no external cause to exist, but his own nature alone will be a sufficient cause of his existence, either possibly (Ax. 1 0) or necessarily. But not possibly; for then (through what I have demonstrated with regard to Axiom 10 ) from the fact that he now existed i t would not follow that he would thereafter exist (which is contrary to the hypothesis) . Therefore necessarily; that is, h is nature involves necessary existence. Q.E.D.

Part 1, Proposition 9 1 39

Corollary God can bring about every th ing that we clearly perceive, j ust as we perceive it.

Proof All this follows clearly from the preceding proposition. For there God's existence was proved from the fact that there must exist someone in whom are all the perfections of which there is an idea in us. Now there is in us the idea of a power so great that by him alone in whom it resides there can be made the sky, the earth, and all the other things that are understood by me as possible. There­ fore, along with God's existence, all these th ings, too, are proved of him.

PROPOSITION 8 Mind and body are distinct in reality.

Proof Whatever we clearly perceive can be brought about by God j ust as we per­ ceive it (Corollary Prop. 7). But we clearly perceive mind, that is (Def. 6), a think­ ing substance, without body, that is (Def. 7), without any extended substance (Props. 3 and 4); and conversely we clearly perceive body without mind, as every­ one readily admits. Therefore, at least through divine power, mind can be with­ out body and body without mind. 39

Now substances that can be without one another are distinct in reality (Def. 10) . But mind and body are substances (Defs. 5 , 6, and 7) that can exist with­ out one another, as has j ust been proved. Therefore mind and body are distinct in reality.

See Proposition 4 at the end of Descartes's "Replies to the Second Set of Objections," and the passages in Principia Part I from Arts. 22-29. For I do not think i t worthwhile to transcribe them here.

PROPOSITION 9 God is a supremely understanding being.

Proof If you deny this, then God will understand either nothing or not every­ thing, that is, only some things. But to understand only some things and to be ig­ norant of the rest supposes a l imited and imperfect intellect, which it is absurd to ascribe to God (Def. 8). And that God should understand nothing either indicates a lack of intellection in God -as it does with men who understand noth ing-and involves imperfection (which, by the same definition, cannot be the case with God), or else it indicates that it is incompatible with God's perfection that he should understand someth ing. But because intellection is thus completely denied of God, he will not be able to create any intellect (Ax. 8). Now because intellect is clearly and distinctly perceived by us, God can be its cause (Cor. Prop. 7). There­ fore it is far from true that it is incompatible with God's perfection for him to un­ derstand something. Therefore he is a supremely understanding being. Q.E.D.

Scholium Although it must be granted that God is incorporeal, as is demon­ strated in Prop. 1 6, this must not be taken to mean that all the perfections of ex-

,9 [ef. Med6, 5 1 (ATI, 78).1

140 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

tension are to be withdrawn from him. They are to be withdrawn from him only to the extent that the nature and properties of extension involve some imperfec­ tion. The same point is to be made concerning God's intellection, as is admitted by all who seek wisdom beyond the common run of philosophers, and as will be fully explained in our Appendix Part 2 Chapter 7.

PROPOSITION 1 0 What""er perfection is found in God, is from God.

Proof If you deny th is, suppose that there is in God some perfection that is not from God. It will be in God either from itself, or from something different from God. If frorn itself, it will therefore have necessary existence, not merely possible existence (Lemma 2 Prop. 7} , and so (Corollary Lemma I Prop. 7) it will be sorne­ thing supremely perfect, and therefore (Def. 8) it will be God. So if it be sa id that there is in God someth ing that is frorn itself, at the same time it is said that this is frorn God. Q.E.D. But if i t be frorn someth ing different frorn God, then God can­ not be conceived through himself as supremely perfect, contrary to Definition 8. Therefore whatever perfection is found in God, is from God. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 1 1 There cannot be more than one God.

Proof If you deny this, conceive, if you can, more than one God (e.g., A and B). Then of necessity (Prop. 9) both A and B will have the h ighest degree of under­ standing; that is, A will understand everything, himself and B, and in turn B will understand himself and A. But because A and B necessarily exist (Prop. 5), there­ fore the cause of the truth and the necessity of the idea of B, which is in A, is B; and conversely the cause of the truth and the necessity of the idea of A, which i s in B, i s A. Therefore there will be in A a perfection that i s not from A, and in B a perfection that is not from B. Therefore (Prop. 10) neither A nor B will be a God, and so there cannot be more than one God. Q.E.D.

Here it should be noted that, frorn the mere fact that something of itself in­ volves necessary existence-as is the case with God - it necessarily follows that it is unique. This is something that everyone can see for himself with careful thought, and I could have demonstrated it here, but not in a rnanner as compre­ hensible to all as is done in this proposition.

PROPOSITION 1 2 All things that exist are preserved solely by the power of God.

Proof If you deny this, suppose that sornething preserves itself. Therefore (Lernma 2 Prop. 7) its nature involves necessary existence. Thus (Corollary Lemma I Prop. 7) it would be God, and there would be more than one God, which is absurd (Prop. I I ) . Therefore everything that exists is preserved solely by the power of God. Q.E.D.

Corollary 1 God is the creator of all th ings.

Part 1, Proposition 14 l41

Proof God preserves a l l things (Prop. 1 2); that i s (Ax. 1 0), he has created, and still continuously creates, everyth ing that exists.

Corollary 2 Things of themselves do not have any essence that is the cause of God's knowledge. On the contrary, God is also the cause of things with respect to their essence.

Proof Because there is not to be found in God anything of perfection that is not from God (Prop. 1 0), things of themselves will not have any essence that can be the cause of God's knowledge. On the contrary, because God has created all things wholly, not genernting them from something else (Prop. 12 with Cor. I ) , and because the act of creation acknowledges no other cause but the efficient cause (for this is how I define 'creation'), which is God, it follows that before their creation things were nothing at all, and therefore God was also the cause of their essence. Q.E.D.

It should be noted that this corollary is also evident from the fuct that God is the cause or creator of a II things (Cor. I ) and that the cause must contain in itself all the perfections of the effect (Ax. 8), as everyone can readily see.

Corollary 3 Hence it clearly follows that God does not sense, nor, properly speaking, does he perceive. For h is intellect is not determined by anything exter­ nal to h imself; all things derive from him.

Corollary 4 God is pr ior in causal ity to the essence and existence of things, as clearly follows from Corollaries I and 2 of this Proposition.

PROPOSITION 1 3 God is supremely truthful, and not at all a deceiver. 40

Proof We cannot attribute to God anything in which we find any imperfection (Def. 8); and because (as is self-evident) all deception or will to deceive proceeds only from mal ice or fear, and fear supposes diminished power while malice sup­ poses privation of goodness, no deception or will to deceive is to be ascribed to God, a being supremely powerful and supremely good. On the contrary, he must be said to be supremely truthful and not at all a deceiver. Q.E.D. See "Replies to the Second Set of Objections," No. 4.41

PROPOSITION 1 4 Whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive is true.

40 r have not mcluded this axiom among the axiOms because It was not at all necessary. I had no need of It except for the proof of thiS proposItion alone, and furthermore, as long as I did not know God's eXIStence, I did not Wish to assume as true anythtng more than what I could deduce from the first known thmg. 'I am', as I said in the Scholmm to ProposItion 4. Again, I have not !De luded among my deftnltlons the defmitions of fear and malice because everyone knows them, and I have no need of them except for thiS one proposition.

4 1 [AT7, 142-147.1

142 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

Proof The faculty of distinguishing true from false, which is in us (as everyone can discover in himself, and as is obvious from all that has already been proved) has been created and is continuously preserved by God (Prop. 12 with Cor.), that is, by a being supremely truthful and not at all a deceiver (Prop. 1 3), and he has not bestowed on us (as everyone can discover in h imself) any faculty for holding aloof from, or refusing assent to, those things that we clearly and distinctly per­ ceive. Therefore if we were to be deceived in regard to them, we should be de­ ceived entirely by God, and he would be a deceiver, which is absurd (Prop. 1 3) . So whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive is true. Q.E.D.

Scholium Because those things to which we must necessarily assent when they are clearly and distinctly perceived by us are necessarily true, and because we have a faculty for withholding assent from those things that are obscure or doubtful or are not deduced from the most certain principles-as everyone can see in h im­ self- it clearly follows that we can always take precautions against falling into error and against ever being deceived (a point that will be understood even more clearly from what follows), provided that we make an earnest resolution to affirm nothing that we do not clearly and distinctly perceive or that is not deduced from first principles clear and certain in themselves.

PROPOSITION 1 5 Error is not anything positive.

Proof If error were something positive, it would have as its cause only God, by whom it must be continuously created (Prop. 12 ) . But this is absurd (Prop. 1 3) . Therefore error i s not anyth ing posi tive. Q.E.D.

Scholium Because error is not anything positive in man, it can be nothing else than the privation of the right use of freedom (Schol. Prop. 14) . Therefore God must not be said to be the cause of error, except in the sense in which we say that the absence of the sun is the cause of darkness, or that God, in making a child similar to others except for sight, is the cause of blindness. He is not to be said to be the cause of error in giving us an intellect that extends to only a few things. To understand this clearly, and also how error depends solely on the misuse of the will, and, finally, to understand how we may guard aga inst error, let us recall to mind the modes ofth inking that we possess, namely, all modes of perceiving (sens­ ing, imagining, and pure understanding) and modes of willing (desiring, mislik­ ing, affirming, denying, and doubting); for they can all be subsumed under these two headings.

Now with regard to these modes we should note, first, that insofar as the mind understands things clearly and distinctly and assents to them, it cannot be de­ ceived (Prop. 1 4); nor again can it be deceived insofar as it merely perceives things and does not assent to them. For although I may now perceive a winged horse, it is certain that th is perception contains nothing false as long as I do not assent to

Part 1, Proposition 1 5 143

the truth that there is a winged horse, nor again as long as I doubt whether there is a winged horse. And because to assent is nothing but to determine the will, it follows that error depends only on the use of the will.

To make this even clearer, we should note, secondly, that we have the power to assent not only to those things that we clearly and distinctly perceive but also to those thing. that we perceive in any other way. For our will is not determined by any l imits. Everyone can clearly see this if only he attends to the following point, that if God had wished to make infinite our faculty of understanding, he would not have needed to give us a more extensive fuculty of willing than that which we already possess in order to enable us to assent to all that we understand. That which we already possess would be sufficient for assenting to an infinite number of th ings.42 And in fact experience tells us, too, that we assent to many things that we have not deduced from sure first principles. Furthermore, these considerations make it clear that if the intellect extended as widely as the fuculty of willing, or if the faculty of willing could not extend more widely than the in­ tellect, or if, finally, we could restrict the fuculty of will ing within the l imits of the intellect, we would never fall into error (Prop. 1 4) .

But the first two possibil i ties l ie beyond our power, for they would involve that the will should not be infinite and the intellect created finite. So it remains for us to consider the th ird possibil i ty, namely, whether we have the power to re­ strict our fuculty of willing with in the l imits of the in tellect. Now because the will is free to determine itself, it follows that we do have the power to restrict the fuculty of assenting within the l imits of the intellect, therefore bringing it about that we do not fall in to error. Hence i t is quite manifest that our never being de­ ceived depends entirely on the use of the freedom of the will . That our will is free is demonstrated in Art. 39 Part I of the Principia and in the "Fourth Medi­ tation," and is also shown at some length by me in the last chapter of my Ap­ pendix. And although, when we perceive a thing clearly and distinctly, we cannot refra in from assenting to it, that necessary assent depends not on the weakness but s imply on the freedom and perfection of the will . For to assen t to the tru th is a perfection in us (as is self-evident), and the will is never more per­ fect and more free than when it completely determines itself. Because this can occur when the mind understands someth ing clearly and distinctly, it will nec­ essarily give itself th is perfection at once (Ax. 3). Therefore we by no means understand ourselves to be less free because we are not at all indifferen t in em­ braCing truth . On the con trary, we take i t as certain that the more indifferent we are, the less free we are.

So now it remains only to be expla ined how error is noth ing but privation with respect to man, whereas with respect to God it is mere negation. This will easily be seen if we first observe that our perceiving many thing. besides those that we clearly understand makes us more perfect than if we did not perceive them. Th is

42 [Cf. Mod4, 38 (AD, 56-57). 1

144 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

is clearly established from the fact that, if it were supposed that we could perceive nothing clearly and distinctly but only confusedly, we should possess nothing more perfect than this perceiving things confusedly, nor would anything else be expected of our nature. Furthermore, to assent to th ings, however confused, in­ sofar as it is also a kind of action, is a perfection. This will also be obvious to every­ one if he supposes, as previously, that it is contrary to man's nature to perceive things clearly and distinctly. For then it will become quite clear that it is far bet­ ter for a man to assent to things, however confused, and to exercise his freedom, than to remain always indifferent, that is (as we have j ust shown), at the lowest grade of freedom. And if we also turn our attention to the needs and convenience of human life, we shall find this absolutely necessary, as experience teaches each of us every day.

Therefore, because all the modes of thinking that we possess are perfect in­ sofar as they are regarded in themselves alone, to that extent that which consti­ tutes the form of error cannot be in them. But if we attend to the way in which modes of willing differ from one another, we shall find that some are more per­ fect than others in that some render the will less indifferent (i .e . , more free) than others. Again, we shall also see that, as l ong as we assent to confused things, we make our minds less apt to distinguish true from false, thereby depriving our­ selves of the highest freedom. Therefore to assent to confused th ings, insofar as this is something positive, does not contain any imperfection or the form of error; i t does so only insofar as we thus deprive our own selves of the highest freedom that is within reach of our nature and is within our power. So the imperfection of error will consist entirely merely in the privation of the highest freedom, a pri­ vation that is called error. Now it is called privation because we are deprived of a perfection that is compatible with our nature, and it is called error because it is our own fault that we lack th is perfection, in that we fa il to restrict the will within the l imits of the intellect, as we are able to do. Therefore, because error is noth ing else with respect to man but the privation of the perfect or correct use of freedom, it follows that it does not l ie in any faculty that he has from God, nor again in any operation of his facul ties insofar as th is depends on God." Nor can we say that God has deprived us of the greater intellect that he might have given us and has thereby brought i t about that we could fall into error. For no th ing's nature can demand anything from God, and nothing belongs to a thing except what the will of God has willed to bestow on it. For nothing existed, or can even be conceived, prior to God's will (as is fully explained in our Appendix Part 2 Chapters 7 and 8). Therefore God has not deprived us of a greater intellect or a more perfect faculty of understanding any more than he has deprived a circle of the properties of a sphere, and a circumference of the properties of a spherical surface.

So because none of our faculties, in whatever way it be considered, can point to any imperfection in God, it clearly follows that the imperfection in wh ich the

43 [Med4, 36-39 (ATI, 54-58).J

Part 1, Proposition 19 145

form of error consists is privation only with respect to man. When related to God as its cause, i t can be termed not privation, but only negation.

PROPOSITION 1 6 God is incorporeal.

Proof Body is the immediate subject oflocal motion (Def. 7). Therefore if God were corporeal , he would be divided into parts; and this, since it clearly involves imperfection, it is absurd to affirm of God (Def. 8) .

Another Proof If God were corporeal , he could be divided into parts (Def. 7) . Now either each single part could subsist of itself, or it could not . If the latter, it would be l ike the other things created by God, and thus, l ike every created th ing, i t would be continuously created by the same force by God (Prop. 10 and Ax. I I ) , and would not pertain to God's nature any more than other created things, which is absurd (Prop. 5). But if each S ingle part exists through itself, each single part must also involve necessary existence (Lemma 2 Prop. 7), and consequently each s ingle part would be a supremely perfect being (Cor. Lemma 2 Prop. 7). But th is, too, is absurd (Prop. I I ). Therefore God is incorporeal . Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 1 7 God is a completely simple being.

Proof If God were composed of parts, the parts (as all will readily grant) would have to be at least prior in nature to God, which is absurd (Cor. 4 Prop. 12 ) . There­ fore he is a completely simple being. Q.E.D.

Corollary Hence it follows that God's intelligence, h is will or decree, and h is power are not distinguished from his essence, except by abstract reasoning.

PROPOSITION 1 8 God is immutable.

Proof If God were mutable, he could not change in part, but would have to change with respect to h is whole essence (Prop. 1 7) . But the essence of God ex­ ists necessarily (Props. 5 , 6, and 7) . Therefore God is immutable. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 19 God is eternal.

Proof God is a supremely perfect being (Def. 8), from which it follows that he exists necessarily (Prop. 5 ) . If now we attribute to him limited existence, the l im­ its of h is existence must necessarily be understood, if not by us, at any rate by God himself (Prop. 9), because he has understanding in the highest degree. Therefore God will understand himself (i .e . [Def. 8], a supremely perfect being) as not ex­ isting beyond these limits, which is absurd (Prop. 5 ) . Therefore God has not a l im-

146 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

ited but an infinite existence, which we call eternity. See Chapter I Part 2 of our Appendix. Therefore God is eternal. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 20 God has preordained all things from eternity.

Proof Because God is eternal (Prop. 1 9), h is understanding is eternal, because i t pertains to his eternal essence (Cor. Prop. 1 7) . But h is intellect is not different in reality from h is will or decree (Cor. Prop. 1 7) . Therefore when we say that God has understood things from eternity, we are also saying that he has willed or de­ creed things thus from eternity. Q.E .D.

Corollary From this proposition it follows that God is in the highest degree con­ stant in h is works.

PROPOSITION 2 1 Substance extended in length, breadth, and depth exists in reality, and we are united to one part of it.

Proof That which is extended, as it is clearly and distinctly perceived by us, does not perta in to God's nature (Prop. 1 6). but it can be created by God (Cor. Prop. 7 and Prop. 8). Furthermore, we clearly and distinctly perceive (as everyone can discover in h imself, insofar as he thinks) that extended substance is a sufficient cause for producing in us pleasure, pain , and similar ideas or sensations, which are continually produced in us even against our will . But if we wish to suppose some other cause for our sensations apart from extended substance-say, God or an angel-we immediately destroy the clear and distinct concept that we have. Therefore," as long as we correctly attend to our perceptions so as to allow noth­ ing but what we clearly and distinctly perceive, we shall be altogether inclined, or by no means uninclined, to accept that extended substance is the only cause of our sensations, and therefore to affirm that the extended thing exists, created by God. And in th is we surely cannot be deceived (Prop. 14 with Schol . ) . There­ fore it is truly affirmed that substance extended in length, breadth, and depth ex­ ists. This was the first poin t 4S

Furthermore, among our sensations, which must be produced in us (as we have already proved) by extended substance, we observe a considerable difference, as when I say that I sense or see a tree or when I say that I am thirsty, or in pain, etc. But I clearly see that I cannot perceive the cause of this difference unless I first un­ derstand that I am closely united to one part of matter, and not so to other parts. Because I clearly and distinctly understand this, and I cannot perceive it in any other way, it is true (Prop. 14 with Schol . ) that I am united to one part of matter. This was the second point. We have therefore proved what was to be proved.46

44 See the proof to ProposItion 1 4 and the Schohum to ProposItion 1 5 .

+ > [Cf. Med6, 5 1-52 (AT7, 7�O) J

46 [See Med6, 52-53 (AT7, 80-8 1) . J

Part 2, Defini!io"" 147

Note: Unless the reader here considers h imself only as a th inking th ing, lack­ ing body, and unless he puts aside as prejudices all the reasons that he previously entertained for bel ieving that body exists, his attempts to understand this proof will be in vain.

End of Part 1

THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY

P os tula te

DEMONSTRATED IN THE GEOMETRIC MANNER

PART 2

Here the only requirement is that everyone should attend to h is perceptions as ac­ curately as possible, so that he may distinguish what is clear from what is obscure.

Defini ti ons

I . Extension is that which consists of three dimensions. But by extension we do not understand the act of extending, or anything distinct from quantity.

2 . By Substance we understand that which, in order to exist, needs only the concurrence of God.

3 . An atom is a part of matter indivisible by its own nature. 4. The indefinite is that whose bounds, if it has any, cannot be discovered by

human intellect. 5. A vacuum is extension without corporeal substance. 6. Space is to be distinguished from extension only in thought; there is no dif­

ference in reality. Read Art. 10 Part 2 of the Principia. 7. That which in our thinking we understand to be divided is divisible, at least

poten tially. 8. Local motion is the transfer of one part of matter, or of one body, from the

vicinity of those bodies that are immediately contiguous and are regarded as at rest, to the vicinity of other bodies.

This is the definition used by Descartes to explain local motion. To understand this definition correctly, we should consider:

8. 1 . That by a part of matter he understands all that wh ich is transferred to­ gether, although it may in turn consist of many parts .

148 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

8.2 . That, to avoid confusion, in this definition he refers only to that which is constantly in the moving thing in motion, that is, its being transferred. So this should not be confused, as is commonly done by others, with the force or action that effects the transfer. This force or action is commonly thought to be required only for motion and not for rest, an opinion that is plainly wrong. For, as is self­ evident, the same force that is required to impart fixed degrees of motion to a body that is at rest is again required for the withdrawal of those fixed degrees of motion from the same body, and for bringing it entirely to rest. Indeed, this can also be proved by experience, for we use about the same force to propel a boat that is at rest in still water as to hal t it suddenly when i t is moving. In fact, it would be ex­ actly the same, were we not helped in halting the boat by the weight and resist­ ance of the water displaced by it.

8 .3 . That he says that the transfer takes place from the vicinity of contiguous bodies to the vicinity of others, and not from one place to another. For place (as he himself has explained in Art. 1 3 Part 2) is not something real, but depends only on our thought, so that the same body may be said at the same time to change, and not to change, its place. But it cannot be said at the same time to be trans­ ferred, and not to be transferred, from the vicinity of a contiguous body. For only certain definite bodies can, at the same moment of time, be contiguous to the same movable body.

8.4. That he does not say, without qualification, that the transfer takes place from the vicinity of contiguous bodies, but only from the vicinity of con tiguous bodies that are regarded as at rest. For in order that a body A may be moved away from a body B, which is at rest, the same force and action are required on the one side as on the other. Th is is evident in the example of a boat that is sticking to the mud or sand at the bottom of the water. To push it forward, an equal force must be applied to the bot- tom as to the boat. Therefore the force by which bodies are to be moved is ex­ pended equally on the moved body and on the body at rest. The transfer is indeed reciprocal; if the boat is separated from the sand, the sand is also separated from the boat. Therefore, when bodies separate from one another, if we were to attrib­ ute to them without qualification equal motions in opposite directions, refusing to regard one of them as at rest simply on the grounds that there is the same ac­ tion in the one case as in the other, then we should also be compelled to attrib­ ute to bodies that are universally regarded as at rest (e.g., the sand from which the boat is separated) the same amount of motion as to the moving bodies. For, as we have shown, the same action is required on the one side as on the other, and the transfer is reciprocal . But this would be too remote from the normal usages oflan­ guage. However, although those bodies from which other bodies are separated are regarded as at rest and are also spoken of in th is way, we shall remember that every­ thing in the moving body on account of which it is said to move is also in the body at rest.

8. 5 . Finally, that it is also clear from the definition that each body possesses only one motion pecul iar to itself because it is understood to move away only from

Part 2, Axioms 149

one set of bodies contiguous to it and at rest. However, if the moving body forms part of other bodies having other motions, we clearly understand that it can also participate in innumerable other motions. But because it is not easy to understand so many motions at the same time, or even to recognize them all , it will be suffi­ cient to consider in each body that unique motion, which is pecul iar to it. See Art. 31 Part 2 Principia.

9. By a circle of moving bodies we understand only a formation where the last body, in motion because of the impulse of another body, immediately touches the first of the moving bod­ ies, even though the figure formed by all the bodies together through the impulse of a single motion may be very contorted.

Axi oms

I. To nothing there belong no properties.

� ' . .

2. Whatever can be taken away from a thing without impairing its integrity does not constitute the thing's essence. But that whose removal destroys a th ing constitutes its essence.

3. In the case of hardness, our sense indicates to us noth ing else, and we clearly and distinctly understand of it nothing else, than that the parts of hard bodies re­ s ist the movement of our hands.

4. If two bodies approach each other, or move away from each other, they will not thereby occupy more or less space.

5. A part of matter, whether i t gives way or resists, does not thereby lose the na­ ture of body.

6. Motion, rest, figure, and the l ike cannot be conceived without extension. 7. Apart from its sensible qual ities, nothing remains in body but extension and

its affections enumerated in Part I of Principia. 8. Any one space or extension cannot be greater at one time than at another. 9. All extension can be divided, at least in thought. No one who has leamed even the elements of mathematics doubts the truth

of th is axiom. For the space between a tangent and a circle can always be divided by an infinite number of larger circles. The same point is also made obvious by the asymptotes of the hyperbola.

10 . No one can conceive the boundaries of an extension or space without at the same time conceiving other spaces beyond those boundaries, immediately fol­ lowing on that space.

I I . If matter is manifold, and one piece is not in immediate contact with an­ other, each piece is necessarily comprehended within boundaries beyond which there is no matter.

1 2 . The most minute bodies readily give way to the movement of our hands. 1 3 . One space does not penetrate another space, nor is it greater at one time

than at another.

1 50 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

14 . If a hollow pipe A is of the same length as C, and C is twice as wide as A, and if a l iquid passes through pipe A at twice the speed at .df1e:::::: which a l iquid passes through pipe C, the same amount of

.. matter will pass through both pipes in the same space _¥ ) of time. And if in the same time the same amount of mat- ter passes through pipe A as through C, the former will move at twice the speed .

1 5 . Things that agree with a th ird th ing agree with one another; and things that are double a th ird th ing are equal to one another.

1 6. Matter that moves in diverse ways has at least as many parts, divided in ac­ tuality, as there are different degrees of speed to be observed in i t a t the same time.

1 7. The shortest line between two points is a straight l ine. 1 8. If a body A moving from C toward B is repelled by an

opposite impulse, it will move along the same l ine toward C. (i).,.O'-__ ..::B,., 19 . When bodies having opposite motions collide with

each other, they are both- or at least one of them-compelled to undergo some change.

20. A change in any th ing proceeds from a stronger force. 2 1 . When body I moves toward body 2 and pushes it,

if as a result of th is impulse body 8 moves toward body I , then bodies I , 2, 3 , etc . , cannot b e i n a straight l ine, and all eight bodies form a complete circle. See Def. 9.

� V::rm:rf)

Lemma I Where there is extension or space, there is necessarily substance.

Proof Extension or space (Ax. I) cannot be pure nothing. It is therefore an at­ tribute that must be attributed to some thing, but not to God (Prop. 16 Part I ) ; therefore i t must b e attributed t o a thing that needs only the concurrence o f God to exist (Prop. 12 Part I), that is (Def. 2 Part 2), to substance. Q.E.D.

Lemma 2 Rarefaction and condensation are clearly and distinctly conceived by us, although we do not grant that bodies occupy more space in rarefaction than in condensation.

Proof Rarefaction and condensation can be clearly and distinctly conceived from the mere fact that parts of a body may move away from, or toward, one an­ other. Therefore (Ax. 4) they will not occupy either more or less space. For if the parts of a body-say, a sponge-by moving toward one another expel the bodies with which its interstices are filled, this in itself will make that body more dense, and its parts will not thereby occupy less space than before (Ax. 4). And if again the parts move away from one another and the gaps are filled by other bodies, there will be rarefaction, but the parts will not occupy more space. And this, which we clearly perceive with the aid of our senses in the case of a sponge, we can con­ ceive with the unaided intellect in the case of all bodies, although their interstices completely escape human sense-perception. Therefore rarefaction and conden­ sation are clearly and distinctly conceived by us, etc . Q.E .D.

Part 2, Proposition 2 1 5 1

I have thought i t advisable to set out these Lemmas first, s o that the intellect may rid ilself of prejudices concerning space, rarefaction, etc. , and be rendered apt to understand what is to follow.

PROPOSITION 1 Although hardness, weight, and the other sensible qualities may be separated from a body, the nature of the body will nevertheless remain unimpaired.

Proof In the case of hardness-say, of this stone-our sense-perception indi­ cates to us nothing else, and we clearly and distinctly understand noth ing else, than that the paris of hard bodies resist the movement of our hands (Ax. 3). There­ fore (Prop. 14 Part I) hardness also will be nothing else but this. Indeed, if the said body is reduced to the finest powder, its parts will readily give way (Ax. 12 ) ; yet it will not lose the nature of body (Ax. 5 ) . Q.E.D.

In the case of weight and the other sensible qualities, the proof proceeds in the same way.

PROPOSITION 2 The nature of body or matier consists only in extension.

Proof The nature of body is not lost as a result of the loss of sensible qualities (Prop. I Part 2). Therefore these do not constitute its essence (Ax. 2). Therefore nothing is left but extension and ils affections (Ax. 7) . So if extension be taken away, nothing will remain pertaining to the nature of body, and it will be completely an­ nulled. Therefore (Ax. 2) the nature of body consisls only in extension. Q.E.D.

Corollary Space and body do not differ in reality.

Proof Body and extension do not differ in reality (previous Prop.) , and also space and extension do not differ in reality (Def. 6). Therefore (Ax. 1 5 ) space and body do not differ in reality. Q.E.D.

Scholium Although we say that God is everywhere,l it is not thereby admitted that God is extended (i .e . [previous Prop. ] , that God is corporeal). For h is ubiq­ u ity refers only to God's power and h is concurrence whereby he preserves all things, so that God's ubiquity does not refer to body or extension any more than to angels and human souls. But i t should be noted that when we say that his power is every­ where, we do not exclude h is essence; for where his power is, there too is h is essence (Cor. Prop. 1 7 Part I ) . We intend to exclude only bodily nature; that is, we mean that God is everywhere not by a corporeal power but by his divine power or essence, which serves al ike to preserve extension and thinking things (Prop. 1 7 Part I ) . The latter he certa inly could not have preserved if his power, that is, h is essence, were corporeal.

I On this, see a fuller explanation m AppendiX, Part 2, Chapters 3 and 9 .

1 52 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

PROPOSITION 3 That there should be a vacuum is a contradiction.

Proof By a vacuum is understood extension without corporeal substance (Def. 3); that is (Prop. 2 Part 2), body without body, which is absurd.

For a fuller explanation, and to correct prejudice concerning the vacuum, read Articles 17 and 18 Part 2 of the Principia, where it should be particularly noted that bodies between which nothing l ies must necessarily touch one another, and also that to nothing there belong no properties.

PROPOSITION 4 One part of a body does not occupy more space at one time than at another; and, conversely, the same space does not contain more body at one time than at another.

Proof Space and body do not differ in reality (Cor. Prop. 2 Part 2). Therefore when we say that a space is not greater at one time than at another (Ax. 1 3), we are also saying tha t a body cannot be greater (i .e. , occupy more space) at one time than at another, which was our first point. Furthermore, from the fact that space and body do not differ in reality, i t follows that when we say that body cannot oc­ cupy more space at one time than at another, we are also saying that the same space cannot contain more body at one time than at another. Q.E.D.

Corollary Bodies that occupy equal space, say, gold and air, have the same amount of matter or corporeal substance.

Proof Corporeal substance consists not in hardness (e.g., of gold) nor in soft­ ness (e.g. , of air) nor in any of the sensible qualities (Prop. I Part 2), but only in extension (Prop. 2 Part 2). Now because, by hypothesis, there is the same amount of space or (Def. 6) extension in the one as in the other; therefore there will also be the same amount of corporeal substance. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 5 There are no atoms.

Proof Atoms are parts of matter that are, by their own nature, indivisible (Def. 3) . But because the nature of matter consists in extension (Prop. 2 Part 2), which by its own nature is divisible, however small it be (Ax. 9 and Def. 7); therefore however small a part of matter may be, it is by its own nature divisible. That is, there are no atoms, or parts of matter that are by their own nature indivisible. Q.E.D.

Scholium The question of atoms has always been a difficult and complicated one. Some assert that there must be atoms, arguing from the impossibil ity of an in­ finite being greater than another infinite; and if two quantities-say A and its dou­ ble-are infinitely divisible, they can also be divided in actuality into an infinite number of parts by the power of God, who understands their infinitely many parts with a single intuition. Therefore, because one infinite cannot be greater than an-

Part 2, Proposition 6 1 5 3

other infinite, a s has been said, quantity A will b e equal to its double, which i s ab­ surd. Then again, they ask whether half an infinite number is also infinite, and whether i t is even or odd, and other such questions. To all this Descartes replied that we must not reject what comes within the scope of our intellect, and is there­ fore clearly and distinctly conceived, because of other things that exceed our in­ tellect or grasp, and that are therefore only perceived very inadequately by us. Now the infinite and its properties exceed the human intellect because that is by nature finite. And so it would be foolish to reject as false, or to doubt, what we clearly and distinctly conceive concerning space, on the grounds that we do not comprehend the infinite. And for this reason Descartes considers as indefinite those things in which we can see no boundaries, such as the extension of the world, the divisibil­ ity of the parts of matter, etc. Read Art. 26 Part I of the Principia.

PROPOSITION 6 Matter is indefinitely extended, and the matter of the heavens and the earth is one and the same.

Proof I . We cannot imagine the boundaries of extension, that is (Prop. 2 Part 2), of matter, without conceiving other spaces immediately following or beyond them (Ax. 1 0), that is, without conceiving extension or matter (Def. 6) beyond them, and so on indefinitely. This was the first poin t.

2. The essence of matter consists in extension (Prop . 2 Part 2), and this is indefinite (first part of this proof); that is, it cannot be conceived by the human intellect as having any boundaries. Therefore (Ax. I I ) it is not a manifold but everywhere one and the same. That was the second point.

Scholium So far we have been deal ing with the nature or essence of extens ion . The fact that it exists such as we conceive it, created by God, we have proved in the last Proposition of Part I , and from Prop. 1 2 Part I , it follows that it is now pre­ served by the same power by which it was created. Then again, in that same last Proposition of Part I , we proved that, insofar as we are th inking things, we are united to some part of matter, by whose help we perceive that there are in actu­ al ity all those variations whereof, by merely contemplating matter, we know it to be capable. Such are divisibility and local motion or movement of one part from one place to another, which we clearly and distinctly perceive provided that we understand that other parts of matter take the place of those that move. And this division and motion are conceived by us in infin ite ways, and therefore infinite variations of matter can also be conceived. I say that they are clearly and distinctly conceived by us as l ong as we conceive them as modes of extension, not as things distinct in reality from extension, as is fully explained in Principia Part I. And al­ though philosophers have fabricated any number of other motions, because we admit nothing but what we clearly and distinctly conceive, and because we do not clearly and distinctly understand extension to be capable of any motion except lo­ cal motion, nor does any other motion even come within the scope of our imag­ ination, we must not admit any other motion but local motion.

But Zeno, so i t is said, denied local motion and did so for various reasons that

1 54 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

Diogenes the Cynic refuted in his own way, by walking about the school where Zeno was teaching these doctrines and disturbing h is l isteners with h is perambu­ lations. When he saw that he was being held by one of the audience so as to pre­ vent his wanderings, he rebuked him, saying: Why have you thus dared to refute your master's arguments? However, it may be that someone could be deceived by Zeno's arguments into th inking that the senses reveal to us something- in this case, motion - entirely opposed to the intellect, with the result that the mind may be deceived even concerning those th ings that it perceives clearly and distinctly with the aid of the intellect. To prevent th is, I shall here set forth Zeno's principal arguments, showing that they rest only on false prejudices because he had no true conception of matter.

In the first place, then, he is reported to have said that, if local motion were granted, the motion of a body moving with a circular motion at the h ighest speed would be no different from a state of rest. But the latter is absurd; therefore so is

the former. He proves the consequence as follows: A body whose every point remains constantly in the same place is at rest. But all the points of a body moving with a circular motion at the highest speed remain constantly in the same place; therefore, etc. He is said to have explained this by the example of a wheel, say, ABC. If the wheel were to move about its center at a certain speed, point A would complete a circle through B and C more quickly than if it

were to move at a slower speed. So suppose, for example, that it begins to move slowly, and that after an hour it is in the same place from which i t began. Now if i t be supposed that it moves at twice that speed, it will be in the same place from which it began after half an hour; and if at four times the speed, after quarter of an hour. And if we conceive the speed to be infinitely increased and the time to be reduced to moments, then the point A at its highest speed will be at all mo­ ments, or constantly, in the place from which it began to move, and so it always remains in the same place. And what we understand about point A must also be understood about every point of the wheel. Therefore at the highest speed, all points remain constantly in the same place.

Now, in reply, it should be noted that this is an argument directed against mo­ tion's h ighest speed rather than against motion itself. But we shall not here ex­ amine the validity of Zeno's argumen� we shall rather disclose the prejudices whereon all this argument depends insofar as it cla ims to attack motion. In the first place, he supposes that bodies can be conceived to move so quickly that they cannot move more quickly. Secondly, he supposes time to be made up of mo­ ments, just as others have conceived quantity to be made up of indivisible points. Both of these suppositions are false. For we can never conceive a motion so fast that we cannot at the same time conceive a faster. It is con trary to our intel­ lect to conceive a motion so fast, however short be its course, that there can be no faster motion.

And the same holds true in the case of slowness. To conceive a motion so slow that there cannot be a slower, involves a contradiction. And regarding time, too,

Part 2, Proposition 6 1 5 5

which i s the measure o f motion, w e make the same assertion, that i t i s clearly contrary to our intellect to conceive a time other than which there can be none shorter.

To prove all th is, let us follow in Zeno's footsteps. Let us suppose, with him, that a wheel ABC moves about its center at such a speed that the pointA is at every moment in the position A from which it moves. I say that I clearly con­ ceive a speed indefinite ly greater than this, and consequently moments that are infinitely less. For let it be supposed that while the wheel

H {@ o ABC moves about its center, with the help of a belt H it causes another wheel, DEF, half its size, to move about its center. Now because the wheel DEF is sup­ posed to be half the size of the wheel ABC, it is plain that the wheel DEF moves at twice the speed of the wheel ABC, and consequently the point D is at every half­ moment again in the same place from which it began to move. Then if we assign the motion of the wheel DEF to the wheel ABC, DEF will move four times faster than the original speed, and if we again assign this last speed of the wheel DEF to the wheel ABC, then DEF will move eight times as fast, and so ad infinitum.

But this is quite clear merely from the concept of matter. For the essence of matter consists in extension, or ever-divisible space, as we have proved, and there is no motion without space. We have also demonstrated that one part of matter cannot occupy two spaces at the same time; for that would be the same as saying that one part of matter is equal to its double, as is evident from what has already been demonstrated. Therefore if a part of matter moves, i t moves through some space, a space that, however small it is imagined to be, is nevertheless divisible, and consequently so is the time through which the motion is measured. Conse­ quently the duration of that motion, or its time, is divisible, and is so to infinity. Q.E.D.

Let us now proceed to another fallacious problem, said to have been pro­ pounded by Zeno, which is as follows: If a body moves, it moves either in the place in which i t is, or in a place in which it is not. But not in a place in wh ich it is; for if it is in any place, it must be at rest. Nor again in a place in which it is not. There­ fore the body does not move. But this l ine of argument is j ust l ike the previous one, for i t also supposes that there is a time other than which there is no shorter. If we reply that a body moves not in, but from, the place in which i t is to a place in which it is not, he will ask whether it has not been in any intermediate places. We may reply by making a distinction: if by 'has been' he means 'has rested', we deny that it has been in any place while i t was moving; but if by 'has been' is un­ derstood 'has existed', we say that i t has necessarily existed while it was moving. He will again ask where it has existed while it was moving. We may once more re­ ply that if by 'where it has existed' he means 'what place it has stayed in' while it

1 56 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

was moving, we say that it did not stay in any place; but if he means 'what place it has changed', we say that it has changed all those places that he may wish to as­ s ign as belonging to the space through which it was moving. He will go on to ask whether at the same moment of time it could occupy and change its place. To this we finally reply by making the following distinction : If by a moment of time he means a time other than which there can be none shorter, he is asking an un­ intelligible question, as we have adequately shown, and thus one that does not de­ serve a reply. But if he takes time in the sense that I have explained previously (Le. , its true sense), he can never assign a time so short that in it a body cannot occupy and change place, even though the time is supposed to be able to be short­ ened indefinitely; and this is obvious to one who pays sufficient attention. Hence it is quite evident, as we said previously, that he is supposing a time so short that there cannot be a shorter, and so he proves nothing.

Besides these two arguments, there is yet another argument of Zeno's in cir­ culation, which can be read, together with its refutation, in Descartes's Letters Vol. I, penul timate letter. 2

I should l ike my readers here to observe that I have opposed Zeno's reasoning. with my own reasonings, and so I have refuted him by reason, not by the senses, as did Diogenes. For the senses cannot produce for the seeker after truth anything other than the phenomena of Nature, by which he is determined to investigate their causes; they can never show to be false what the intellect clearly and dis­ tinctly grasps as true. This is the view we take, and so this is our method, to demon­ strate our propositions with reasons clearly and distinctly perceived by the intellect, disregarding whatever the senses assert when that seems contrary to reason. The senses, as we have said, can do no more than determine the intellect to enquire into one thing rather than another; they cannot convict the intellect of fulsity when it has clearly and distinctly perceived something.

PROPOSITION 7 No body moves into the place of another body unless at the same time that other body moves into the place of another body.

Proof (See Diagram of Next Proposition) If you deny th is, suppose, if it is pos­ s ible, that a body A moves into the place of a body B, which I suppose to be equal to A and which does not give way from its own place. Therefore the space that contained only B, by hypothesis, now contains A and B, and so contains twice the amount of corporeal substance as i t contained before, which is absurd (Prop. 4 Part 2) . Therefore no body moves into the place of another, . . . etc . Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 8 When a body moves into the place of another body, at the same moment of time the place quitted by it is occupied by another body immediately contiguous to it.

Z [Splnoza probably refers to the Dutch translation of Descartes's letters Brieven, tr J H . Glazemaker, Amsterdam, 166 1 . The letter mentioned IS probably to Clerseiier, JunelJuly 1646, AT4, 445-447 ]

Part 2, Proposition 9 1 5 7

Proof I f a body B moves toward 0, bodies A and C a t the same moment o f time will either move toward each other and touch each other, or they will not. If they move toward each other and touch each other, what we have proposed is granted. If they do not move toward

~ each other and the entire space quitted by B l ies be-tween A and C, then a body equal to B (Cor. Prop. 2 Part B 2 and Cor. Prop. 4 Part 2) l ies between. But, by hypoth- esis, this is not B. Therefore it is another body, which at JJ the same moment of time moves into B's place. And be- cause it moves into B's place at the same moment of time, i t can be none other than that which is immediately contiguous, according to Schol ium Prop. 6 Part 2. For there we demonstrated that there can be no motion from one place to an­ other such that it does not require a time other than which there is always a shorter time. From this it follows that the space of body B cannot be occupied at the same moment of time by another body that would have to move through some space before i t moved into B's space. Therefore only a body immediately contiguous to B moves into its place at the same moment of time. Q.E.D.

Scholium Because the parts of matter are in reality distinct from one another (Art. 61 Principia Part I ) , one can exist without another (Cor. Prop. 7 Part I). and they do not depend on one another. So all those fictions about Sympathy and An­ tipathy must be rejected as false. Furthermore, because the cause of an effect must always be positive (Ax. 8 Part I). i t must never be said that a body moves to avoid there being a vacuum. It moves only through the impulse of another body.

Corollary In every motion, a complete circle of bodies moves at the same time.

Proof At the time when body I moves into the place of body 2, body 2 must move into the place of another body, say, body 3, and so on (Prop. 7 Part 2). Again, at the same moment of t ime as body 1 moves into the place of body 2, the place quitted by body I must be occupied by �. another body (Prop. 8 Part 2) , let us say body 8 or another body immediately contiguous to body I. Because this oc- • • • ' curs only through the impulse of another body (Schol. to this Prop.) . which is here supposed to be body I , all these moving bodies cannot be in the same straight l ine (Ax. 2 1 ) but (Def. 9) form a complete circle. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 9 If a circular tube ABC is full of water and is four times as wide at A as at B, then at the time that the water (or any other fluid body) at A begins to move toward B, the water at B will move at four times that speed.

Proof When all the water a tA moves toward B, the same amount of water must at the same time move into its place from C, which is immediately contiguous to A (Prop. 8 Part 2) . And from B the same amount of water will have

1 58 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

to move into the place of C (same Prop.) . Therefore (Ax. 14) it will move at four times that speed. Q.E.D.

What we say about the circular tube must also apply to al l unequal spaces through which bodies moving at the same time are compelled to pass; for the proof will be the same in the other cases.

Lemma If two semicircles A and B are described about the same center, the space between their circumferences �B �OD will be everywhere the same. But if two semicircles C and D are de- scribed about different centers, the space between their circumferences will be everywhere unequal.

The proof is evident merely from the definition of a circle.

PROPOSITION 1 0 The fluid body that moves through the tube ABC (of Prop. 9) receives an indefinite number of degrees of speed.

Proof The space between A and B is everywhere unequal (previous Lemma). Therefore (Prop. 9 Part 2) the speed at which the fluid body passes through the tube ABC will be unequal at all points. Furthermore, because we conceive in thought an indefinite number of spaces ever smaller and smaller between A and B (Prop. 5 Part 2), we shall also conceive its inequal ities of speed, which are at all points, as indefinite. Therefore (Prop. 9 Part 2) the degrees of speed will be in­ definite in number. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 1 1 The matter that flows through the tube ABC (of Prop. 9) is divided into an indefi­ nite number of particles.

Proof The matter that flows through the tube ABC acquires at the same time an indefinite number of degrees of speed (Prop. 10 Part 2). Therefore (Ax. 16) it has an indefinite number of parts into which it is in reality divided. Q.E.D. Read Arts. 34 and 35 Part 2 of the Principia.

Scholium So far we have been deal ing with the nature of motion. We should now enquire into its cause, wh ich is twofold: ( I ) the primary or general cause, which is the cause of all the motions in the world, and (2) the particular cause, whereby it comes about that individual parts of matter acquire motions that they did not have before. As to the general cause, because we must admit nothing (Prop. 14 Part I and Schol. Prop. 1 5 Part 1 ) 3 but what we clearly and distinctly perceive, and because we clearly and distinctly understand no other cause than God, the creator of matter, it is obvious that no other general cause but God must be ad­ mitted. And what we here say about motion must also be understood about rest.

3 [Here I deVlate from Gebhardt to follow Hubbeling's emendatton. -S .S . ]

Part 2, Proposition 1 5 1 59

PROPOSITION 1 2 God is the principal cause of motion.

Proof See the immediately preceding Schol ium.

PROPOSITION 1 3 God still preserves /ry his concurrence the same quantity of motion and rest that he originally gave to matter.

Proof Because God is the cause of motion and rest (Prop. 12 Part 2), he con­ tinues to preserve them by that same power by which he created them (Ax. 10 Part 1 ) , the quantity also remaining the same as when he first created them (Cor. Prop. 20 Part 1 ) . Q.E.D.

Scholium I . Although in theology it is said that God does many things at h is own good pleasure and with the purpose of displaying his power to men, never­ theless, because those things that depend merely on h is good pleasure are known by no other means than divine revelation, to prevent ph ilosophy from being con­ fused with theology, they are not to be admitted in philosophy, where enquiry is restricted to what reason tells us.

2 . Although motion is nothing but a mode of moving matter, it nevertheless has a fixed and determinate quantity. How this is to be understood will become evident from what follows. Read Art. 36 Part 2 of the Principia.

PROPOSITION 1 4 Each single thing, insofar as i t is simple and undivided and is considered only in it­ self, always perseveres in the same state, as far as in it lies.

Many take this proposition as an axiom, but we shall demonstrate it.

Proof Because everything is in a certain state only by the concurrence of God (Prop. 12 Part 1) and God is in the h ighest degree constant in h is works (Cor. Prop. 20 Part 1 ) , if we pay no attention to any external causes (i.e., particular causes) but consider the th ing only in itself, we must affirm that as far as in it lies, i t always perseveres in the state in which i t is. Q.E.D.

Corollary A body that is once in motion always continues to move unless it is checked by external causes.

Proof This is obvious from the preceding proposition. But to correct prejudice concerning motion, read Arts. 37 and 38 Part 2 of the Principia.

PROPOSITION 1 5 Every body in motion tends of itself to continue to move in a straight line, not in a curved line.

This proposition could well be considered as an axiom, but 1 shall demonstrate i t from the preceding, as follows.

Proof Motion, having only God for its cause (Prop. 12 Part 2), never has of it­ self any force to exist (Ax. 10 Part 1 ) , but at every moment continues, as it were,

1 60 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

to be created by God (by what is demonstrated in connection with the Axiom just cited). Therefore, although we attend only to the nature of the motion, we can never attribute to it, as pertaining to its nature, a duration that can be conceived as greater than another duration. But if it is sa id that i t perta ins to the nature of a moving body to describe by its movement a curve, we should be attributing to the nature of motion a longer duration than when it is supposed to be in the nature of a moving body to tend to continue to move in a straight line (Ax. 1 7) . Now be­ cause (as we have j ust proved) we cannot attribute such duration to the nature of motion, then neither can we posit that it is of the nature of a moving body to con­ tinue to move in a curve; it must continue to move only in a straight l ine. Q.E.D.

Scholium Perhaps many will th ink that this proof is equally effective in show­ ing that it does not pertain to the nature of motion to describe a straight line as in showing that it does not pertain to the nature of motion to describe a curved l ine, and that this is so because there cannot be posited a stra ight line other than which there is no shorter, whether straight or curved, nor any curved l ine other than which there is no shorter curve. However, although I have th is in mind, I never­ theless hold that the proof proceeds correctly, because it concludes what was required to be proved solely from the universal essence of l ines, that is, their es­ sential specific difference, and not from the length of individual l ines, that is, their accidental specific difference. But to avoid making more obscure, by my proof, a thing that is through itself quite clear, I refer my readers to the simple definition of motion, which affirms of motion nothing other than its being the transfer of one part of matter from the vicinity . . . , etc . , to the vicinity of other . . . , etc. So unless we conceive this transfer in its simplest form - that is, as proceeding in a stra ight l ine- we are attach ing to motion something not contained in its essence or definition, and so not pertaining to its nature.

Corollary From this Proposition it follows that every body that moves in a curve is continuously deviating from the line along which it would continue to move of itself, and this is through the force of an external cause (Prop. 14 Part 2) .

PROPOSITION 1 6 Every body that moves in a circle (e.g., a stone in a sling) is continuously determined to continue in motion at a tangent to that eiTcle.

Proof A body that moves in a circle is continuously prevented by an external force from continuing to move in a straight l ine (Cor. previous Prop. ) . If this force ceases, the body will of itself proceed to move in a straight l ine (Prop. 1 5 ) . Fur­ thermore, I say that a body that moves in a circle is determined by an external cause to proceed to move at a tangent to the circle. If you deny this, suppose that a stone at B is determined (e.g., by a sling) to move not along the tangent BD but along another line conceived as drawn without or within the circle from the same point. When the sl ing is supposed to be coming from L toward B, let this l ine be BF. If on the other hand the sling is supposed to be coming from C toward B, let this line be BG. If BH is the line drawn from the center through the circumfer-

Part 2, Proposition 16 1 6 1

ence, which it cuts at B, I understand the angle GBH to be equal to the angle FBH. But if the stone at B is determined to proceed to move toward F by the sl ing moving in a circle from L toward B, then it nec- essarily follows (Ax. 1 8) that when the sling 0 moves with a contrary determination from C to­ ward B, the stone will be determined to proceed to move in line with BF with a contrary determi­ nation and will therefore tend not toward G but toward K. This is contrary to our hypothesis. And because no l ine except a tangent can be drawn through point B making equal adjacent angles, DBH, ABH, with the l ine BH,4 there can be no l ine but a tangent that can preserve the same hypothesis, whether the sl ing moves from L to B or from C to B. And so the stone can tend to move along no line but the tangent. Q.E.D.

AnoIher Proof Instead of a circle,> conceive a hexagon ABH inscribed in a cir­ cle, and a body C at rest on one side, AB. Then conceive tha t a ruler DBE, whose one end I suppose to be fixed at the center D while the other end is free, moves about the center D, continuously cutting the l ine AB. It is eviden t that if the ruler DBE, conceived to move in th is way, meets the body C just when the ruler cuts the line AB at right angles, by its impact the ruler will determine the body C to proceed to move along the l ine FBAG toward G, that is, along the side AB produced indefinitely. But because we have chosen a hexagon at random, the same must be affirmed of any other figure that we conceive can be inscribed in a circle, namely, that when a body C, at rest on one side of the figure, is struck by the ruler DBE just when the ruler cuts that side at right angles, i t will be determined by that ruler to proceed to move along that side produced in­ definitely. Let us conceive, then, instead of a hexagon, a rectilinear figure having an infinite number of s ides- that is, by Archimedes's definition, a circle. It is ev­ ident that, whenever the ruler DBE meets the body C, it always meets it just when it cuts some side of such a f.gure at right angles, and thus will never meet the body C without at the same time determining it to proceed to move along that side pro­ duced indefinitely. And because any side produced in either direction must al­ ways fall outside the figure, that side produced indefinitely will be the tangent to a figure of an infinite number of sides, that is, a circle. If, then, instead of a ruler

4 TIllS IS evident from Proposittons 18 and 19 of Book 3 of the Elements. 5 [Spmoza's diagram is rruslabeled. A rrrust be at the corner of the hexagon between B and G. In this

alternative proof Spinoza substitutes the Archlmedean concept of a cucle for the Euclidean and proVides a duect proof rather than a reductio argument.]

1 62 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

we conceive a sling moving in a circle, this will con tinuously determine the stone to proceed to move at a tangent. Q.E.D.

It should here be noted that both of these proofS can be adapted to any curvi­ l inear figure.

PROPOSITION 1 7 Every body that moves in a circle endeavors to move away {rom the center of the cir­ cle that it describes.

Proof As l ong as a body moves in a circle, it is being compelled by some exter- nal cause; and if this ceases, it at once proceeds to

~ move at a tangent to the circle (previous Prop.) . All the points of this tangent, except that which touches the circle, fall outside the circle (Prop. 16 Book 3 El­ ements) and are therefore further distant from the center. Therefore when a stone moving in a circle in a sl ing EA is at a point A, i t endeavors to continue in a line, all of whose points are farther distant from the center E than any points on the circumference LAB.

And this is nothing other than to endeavor to move away from the center of the circle that it describes. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 1 8 If a body A moves toward a body B, which is at rest, and B loses nothing of its state of rest in spite of the impetus of body A, then neither will A lose anything of its mo­ tion, but will retain entirely the same quantity of motion that it had before.

Proof If you deny this, suppose that body A loses some of its motion without

/I transferring the lost motion to something else, say, to B. • When this happens, there will be in Nature a smaller quan­liP' tity of motion than before, which is absurd (Prop. 1 3 Part 2) . The proof proceeds in the same way with respect to the state

of rest of body B, therefore if the one body does not transfer anything to the other body, B will retain all its rest, and A, all its motion. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 19 Motion, regarded in itself, is different from its determination toward a certain di­ rection; and there is no need for a moving body to be for any time at rest in order that it may travel or be repelled in an opposite direction.

Proof Suppose, as in the preceding proposition, that a body A moves in a straight l ine toward a body B and is prevented by body B from continuing further. There­ fore (preceding Prop.) A will reta in its motion undiminished, and it will not be at rest for even the smallest space of time. However, because it continues to move, it does not move in the same direction as before, for it is supposed to be prevented by B. Therefore, with its motion remaining undiminished and its previous deter-

Part 2, Proposition 22 163

mination lost, it wil l move in the opposite direction, and not any other (see what is said in Chapter 2 Dioptrics). Therefore (Ax. 2) determination does not pertain to the essence of motion but is differen t from it , and a moving body that is repelled is not at rest for any time. Q.E.D.

Corollary Hence it follows that motion is not contrary to motion.

PROPOSITION 20 If a body A collides with a body B and takes i t along with it, A will lose as much of its motion as B acquires from A because of its collision with A. Proof If you deny th is, suppose that B acquires more or less motion from A than A loses. All this difference must be added to or subtracted from the quantity of motion in the whole of Nature, wh ich ...4iif 1M is absurd (Prop. 1 3 Part 2) . Therefore, because body B can ... ., acquire neither more nor less motion, it will acquire j ust as much motion as A loses. Q.E .D .

PROPOSITION 2 1 (See Preceding Diagram) If a body A is twice as large as B and moves with equal speed, A will also have twice as much motion as B, or twice as much force for retaining a speed equal to B s.

PROOF Suppose that instead of A there are two Bs; that is, by hypothesis, one A divided into two equal parts. Each B has a force for remaining in the state in which it is (Prop. 14 Part 2), and th is force is equal in both Bs (by hypothesis). If now these two Bs are j oined together, their speed remaining the same, they will be­ come one A, whose force and quantity will be equal to two Bs, or twice that of one B. Q .E . D.

Note that th is follows simply from the definition of motion. For the greater the moving body, the more the matter that is being separated from other matter. Therefore there is more separation, that is (Def. 8), more motion. See Note 4 re­ garding the definition of motion.

PROPOSITION 22 (See Diagram Prop. 20) If a body A is equal to a body B, and A is moving at twice the speed of B, the force or motion in A will be twice that in B. Proof Suppose that B, when it first acqu ired a certain force of motion has ac­ quired four degrees of speed. If now nothing is added to th is, i t will continue to move (Prop. 14 Part 2) and persevere in its state. Suppose that i t now acquires an additional force from a further impulse equal to the former. As a result, it will ac­ quire another four degrees of speed in addition to the previous four degrees, which i t will also preserve (same Prop .) , that is, i t will move twice as fast (i.e., as fast as A) , and at the same time it will have twice the force (i .e . , a force equal to Ns) . Therefore the motion in A i s twice that of B. Q.E.D.

1 64 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

Note that by force in moving bodies we here understand quantity of motion . This quantity must be greater in equal bodies in proportion to their speed of mo­ tion, insofar as by that speed equal bodies become more separated in the same time from immediately contiguous bodies than if they were to move more slowly. Thus they also have more motion (Def. 8). But in bodies at rest, we understand by force of resistance the quantity of rest. Hence it follows:

Corollary I The more slowly bodies move, the more they participate in rest. For they offer more resistance to more swiftly moving bodies that collide with

them and have less force than they, and they also are less separated from imme­ diately contiguous bodies.

Corollary 2 If a body A moves twice as fast as a body B, and B is twice as great as A, there is the same amount of motion in the greater body B as in the smaller body A, and therefore there is also an equal force.

Proof Let B be twice the size of A, and let A move with twice the speed of B; then let C be half the size of B and move with half the speed of A. Therefore B (Prop. 2 1 Part 2) will have a motion twice that of C, and A (Prop. 22 Part 2) will have a motion twice that of C. Therefore (Ax. 1 5 ) B and A will have equal mo­ tion; for the motion of each is twice that of the third body C. Q.E.D.

Corollary 3 Hence it follows that motion is distinct from speed. For we con­ ceive that, of bodies possessing equal speed, one can have more motion than an­ other (Prop. 21 Part 2), and on the other hand, bodies possessing unequal speed can have equal motion (previous Cor.) . Th is can also be deduced merely from the definition of motion, for it is noth ing but the transfer of one body from the vicinity . . . , etc.

But here it should be noted that this th ird corollary is not inconsistent with the first For we conceive speed in two ways: either insofar as a body is more or less separated in the same time from immediately contiguous bodies (and to that ex­ tent it participates to a greater or lesser degree in motion or rest), or insofar as it describes in the same time a longer or shorter l ine (and to that extent is distinct from motion).

I could here have added other propositions for a fuller explanation of Prop. 14 Part 2 and could have explained the forces of things in any state whatsoever, as we have here done with regard to motion. But it will suffice to read through Art. 43 Part 2 of the Principia and to add only one more proposition, which is neces­ sary for the understanding of what is to follow.

PROPOSITION 2 3 Whcm the modes of a body are compelled to undergo variation, that variation will always be the least that can be.

Proof This proposition follows quite clearly from Prop. 14 Part 2 .

Part 2, Proposition 26 165

PROPOSITION 24, RULE 1 (See Diagram Prop. 20) If two bodies, A and B, should be completely equal and should move in a straight line toward each other with equal velocity, on colliding with each other they will both be reflected in the opposite direction with no loss of speed.

In this hypothesis it is evident that, in order that the contrariety of these two bodies should be removed, either both must be reflected in the opposite direction or the one must take the other along with it For they are contrary to each other only in respect of their determination, not in respect of motion.

Proof When A and B collide, they must undergo some variation (Ax. 1 9) . But because motion is not contrary to motion (Cor. Prop. 19 Part 2), they will not be compelled to lose any of their motion (Ax. 1 9). Therefore there will be change only in determination. But we cannot conceive that only the determination of the one, say B, is changed, unless we suppose that A, by which i t would have to be changed, is the stronger (Ax. 20). But this would be contrary to the hypothesis. Therefore because there cannot be a change of determination in only the one, there will be a change in both, with A's and B's changing course in the opposite direction- but not in any other direction (see what is said in Chap. 2 Dioptrics) ­ and preserving their own motion undiminished. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 25, RULE 2 (See Diagram Prop. 20) If A and B are unequal in mass, B being greater than A, other conditions being as previously stated, then A alone will be reflected, and each will continue to move at the same speed.

Proof Because A is supposed to be smaller than B, it will also have less force than B (Prop. 2 1 Part 2) . But because in this hypothesis, as in the previous one, there is contrariety only in the determination, and so, as we have demonstrated in the previous proposition, variation must occur only in the determination, it will occur only in A and not in B (Ax. 20). Therefore only A will be reflected in the opposite direction by the stronger B, while reta ining its speed undiminished. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 26 (See Diagram Prop. 20) If A and B are unequal in mass and speed, B being twice the size of A and the mo­ tion in A being twice the speed of that in B, other conditions being as before stated, they will both be reflected in the opposite direction, each retaining the speed that it possessed.

Proof When A and B move toward each other, according to the hypothesis, there is the same amount of motion in the one as in the other (Cor. 2 Prop. 22 Part 2). Therefore the motion of the one is not contrary to the motion of the other (Cor. Prop. 19 Part 2), and the forces are equal in both (Cor. 2 Prop. 22 Part 2). Therefore this hypothesis is exactly similar to the hypothesis of Proposition 24 Part 2 and so, according to the same proof, A and B will be reflected in opposite di­ rections, retaining their own motion undiminished. Q.E.D.

1 66 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

Corollary From these three preceding propositions it is clear that to change the determination of one body requires equal force as to change its motion. Hence it follows that a body that loses more than half its determination and more than half its motion undergoes more change than one that l oses all its determination.

PROPOSITION 27, RULE 3 If A and B are equal in mass but B moves a little faster than A, not only will A be reflected in the opposite direction, but also B will transfer to A half the difference of their speeds, and both will proceed to move in the same direction at the same speed.

Proof By hypothesis, A is opposed to B not only by its determination but also by its slowness, insofar as it participates in rest (Cor. I Prop. 22 Part 2) . Therefore, even though it is reflected in the opposite direction and only its determination is changed, not all the contrariety of these two bodies is thereby removed. Hence (Ax. 19) there must be a variation both in determination and in motion. But be­ cause B, by hypothesis, moves faster than A, B will be stronger than A (Prop. 22 Part 2). Therefore a change (Ax. 20) will be produced in A by B, by which it will be reflected in the opposite direction. That was the first point.

Secondly, as long as it moves more slowly than B, A is opposed to B (Cor. I Prop. 22 Part 2) . Therefore a variation must occur (Ax. 1 9) until it does not move more slowly than B. Now in this hypothesis there is no cause strong enough to compel i t to move faster than B. So because it can move neither more slowly nor faster than B when i t is impelled by B, i t will proceed to move at the same speed as B . Again, if B transfers less than half its excess of speed to A, then A will pro­ ceed to move more slowly than B. If it transfers more than half, then A will pro­ ceed to move more quickly than B. But both these possib il i ties are absurd, as we have just demonstrated. Therefore a variation will occur until a point is reached when B has transferred to A half its excess of speed, which B must lose (Prop. 20 Part 2) . And so both will proceed to move with equal speed in the same direction without any contrariety. Q.E.D.

Corollary Hence i t follows that, the greater the speed of a body, the more it is determined to move in the same straight l ine, and conversely, the more slowly it moves, the less i ts determination.

Scholium Lest my readers should here confuse the force of determination with the force of motion, I th ink it advisable to add a few words wherein the force of determination is explained as distinct from the force of motion. Ifbodies A and C are conceived as equal and moving in a straight line toward each other at equal speed, these two bodies (Prop. 24 Part 2) will be reflected in opposite directions, each preserving its own motion undiminished. But if body C is at B, and moving at an oblique angle toward A, it is clear that it is now less determined to move along the line BD or CA. So although it possesses motion equal to A's, yet the force ofC's determination when it moves from directly opposite toward A-a force that is equal to body A's force of determination - is greater than C's force of de­ termination when it moves from B toward A; and it is greater in proportion as the

Part 2, Proposition 28 1 67

l ine BA is greater than the line CA. For in proportion as BA is greater than CA, so much more time does B require (with B and A moving at the same speed, as is here supposed) to be able to move along the line BD or CA, along which it op­ poses the determination of body A. So when C moves from B to meetA at an obl ique angle, it will be determined as if i t were to proceed to move along the line AB' toward B' (which I suppose, it being at a point where the line AB' cuts BC pro­ duced, to be the same distance from C as C is from B). But A, reta ining its original motion and deter- D,---T'l" mination, will proceed to move toward C, and will push body B along with it, because B, as long as it is determined to motion along the diagonal AB' and moves with the same speed as A, requires more time than A to describe by its motion any part of the line AC. And to that extent it is opposed to the determination of body A, which is the stronger. But in order for C's force of determination in moving from B to A, insofar as i t partici­ pates in the direction CA, to be equal to C's force of determination in moving di­ rectly toward A (or, by hypothesis, equal to A's force of determination), B will have to have degrees of motion in excess of A in proportion as the line BA is greater than the l ine CA. And then, when it meets body A at an oblique angle, A will be reflected in the opposite direction toward N and B toward B', both retaining their original motion. But if the excess of B over A is more than the excess of the l ine BA over the l ine CA, then B wil l repel A toward N, and wil l impart to it as much of its motion as will make the ratio of the motions of B to A the same as the ratio of the line BA to the line CA, and, losing as much motion as it has transferred to A, i t will proceed to move in its original direction. For example, if the line AC is to the line AB as I to 2, and the motion of body A is to that of body B as I to 5, then B will transfer to A one degree of its motion and will repel it in the opposite direction, and B with four remaining degrees of motion will continue to move in i ts original direction.

PROPOSITION 28, RULE 4 (See Diagram Prop. 20)6 If a body A is completely at rest and is a little larger than B, with whatever speed B moves toward A it will never move A, but will be repelled by A in the opposite di­ rection, retaining its original motion.

Note7 that the contrariety of these bodies is removed in three ways. ( I ) When one takes the other along with it, and they thereafter proceed to move at the same speed in the same direction. (2) When one is reflected in the opposite direction and the other retains its original rest. (3) When one is reflected in the opposite di­ rection and transfers some of its motion to the other, which was at rest. There can

6 [Corrected from Prop. 27.]

7 [This note and the note Immediately followmg P29 were set In smaller type in the fust edition, m� dlcatmg that they were additions that Spinoza made In proof (see EpI 5) . ]

1 68 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

be no fourth possibil ity (from Prop. 1 3 Part 2) . So we must now demonstrate (by Prop. 23 Part 2) that according to our hypothesis the least change occurs in these bodies.

Proof If B were to move A until they both proceeded to move a t the same speed, it would have to transfer to A as much of its motion as A acqu ires (Prop. 20 Part 2) and would have to lose more than half of its motion (Prop. 2 1 Part 2), and con­ sequently (Cor. Prop. 27 Part 2) more than half of its determination as well . And so (Cor. Prop. 26 Part 2) it would undergo more change than if it were merely to lose its determination. And if A were to lose some of its rest, but not so much that it finally proceeded to move with equal speed with B, then the opposition of these two bodies would not be removed. For A by its slowness, insofar as that partici­ pates in rest, will be opposed to B's speed (Cor. I Prop. 22 Part 2). And so B will still have to be reflected in the opposite direction and will lose all its determina­ tion and part of its motion, which it has transferred to A. Th is, too, is a greater change than if it were merely to lose its determination. Therefore, because the change is only in the determination, in accordance with our hypothesis, it will be the least that there can be in these bodies, and therefore (Prop. 23 Part 2) no other change will occur. Q.E.D.

It should be noted that, in the proof of this proposition and also in the case of other proofs, we have not quoted Prop. 1 9 Part 2, in which it is demonstrated that the whole determination can be changed while yet the motion remains unaltered. Yet attention should be paid to this proposition, so that the force of the proof may be rightly perceived. For in Prop. 23 Part 2 we did not say that the variation will always be the least absolutely, but the least that there can be. But that there can be such a change as we have supposed in this proof, one consisting solely in de­ termination, is evident from Props. 18 and 19 with Cor. Part 2.

PROPOSITION 29, RULE 5 (See Diagram Prop. 30) If a body A at rest is smaller than B, them however slowly B moves toward A, it will move it along with it, transferring to it such a part of its motion that both bodies thereafter move at the same speed. (Read Art. 50 Part 2 of the Principia.)

In this rule as in the previous one, only three cases could be conceived in which this opposition would be removed. But we shall demonstrate that, according to our hypothesis, the least change occurs in these bodies. And so (Prop. 23 Part 2) their variation, too, must occur in this way.

Proof According to our hypothesis B transfers to A (Prop. 21 Part 2) less than half of its motion and (Cor. Prop. 27 Part 2)8 less than half of its determination . Now if B were not to take A along with it but were to be reflected in the opposite direction, it would lose all its determination , and a greater variation would occur (Cor. Prop . 26 Part 2) . And even greater would be the variation if it lost all its de­ termination and at the same time a part of its motion, as is supposed in the third

8 [ I accept Hubbehng's emendahon of 17 to 27.- S.S . ]

Part 2, Proposition 3 1 1 69

case. Therefore the variation, in accordance with our hypothesis, is the least. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 30, RULE 6 If a body A at rest were exactly equal to a body B, which is moving toward it, to some degree A would be impelled by B, and to some degree B would be repelled by A in the opposite direction.

Here again, as in the preceding Prop. , only three cases could be conceived. And so it must be demonstrated that we are here positing the least variation that there can be.

Proof If body B takes body A along with it until both are proceeding to move at the same speed, then there will be the same amount of motion in the one as in the other (Prop. 22 Part 2), and (Cor. Prop. 27 Part 2) B will have to lose half its determination and also (Prop. 20 Part 2) half its motion. But if it is repelled by A in the opposite direction, then it II " will lose all its determination and will retain all its motion (Prop. 18 Part 2) . This variation is equal to the former (Cor. I Prop. 26 Part 2). But neither of these possibil ities can occur. For if A were to retain its own state and could change the determination of B, it would necessarily be stronger than B (Ax. 20), which would be contrary to the hy­ pothesis. And if B were to take A along with it until they were both moving at the same speed, B would be stronger than A, which is also contrary to the hypothesis. Because both of these cases are ruled out, the third case will occur; B will give a slight impulse to A and will be repelled by A. Q.E.D. Read Art. 5 1 Part 2 of the Principia.

PROPOSITION 3 1 , RULE 7 (See Diagram Prop. 30) If B and A are moving in the same direction, A more slowly and B following it more quickly so that it finally overtakes A, and if A is bigger than B, but B's excess of speed is greater than Ns excess of magnitude, then B will transfer to A so much of its mo­ tion that both will thereafter move at the same speed in the same direction. But if. on the other hand, A's excess of magnitude should be greater than B's excess of speed, B would be reflected by it in the opposite direction, retaining all its motion.

Read Art. 52 Part 2 of the Principia. Here again, as in the preceding proposi­ tions, only three cases can be conceived.

Proof Part I . B being supposed to be stronger than A (Props. 21 and 22 Part 2) cannot be reflected in the opposite direction by A (Ax. 20). Therefore, because B is stronger, i t will take A along with i t, and in such a way that they proceed to move at the same speed. For then the least change will occur, as can easily be seen from the preceding propositions.

Part 2 . B being supposed to be less strong than A (Props. 21 and 22 Part 2) can­ not impel A (Ax. 20), nor give it any of its own motion. Thus (Cor. Prop. 14 Part 2) it will retain all its motion, but not in the same direction , for it is supposed to be impeded by A. Therefore (according to Chap. 2 Dioptrics) it will be reflected

170 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

in the opposite direction, not in any other direction, retaining its original motion (Prop. 18 Part 2). Q.E.D.

Note that here and in the preceding propositions we have taken as proved that any body meeting from the opposite direction another body by which it is ab­ solutely impeded from advancing further in the same direction, must be reflected in the opposite direction, not in any other direction. For the understanding of th is, read Chap. 2 Dioptrics.

Scholium Up to this point, to explain the changes of bodies resulting from their impact on each other, we have considered the two bodies as though isolated from all other bodies, that is, without taking into account bodies that surround them on all sides. But now we shall consider their state and their changes wh ile taking into account bodies that surround them on all sides.

PROPOSITION 32 If a body B is surrounded on all sides Iry particles in motion, which at the same time are impelling it with equal force in all directions, as long as no other cause occurs it will remain unmoved in the same place.

Proof This proposition is self-evident. For if it were to move in any direction through the impulse of particles coming from one direction, the particles that move it would be impelling it with greater force than other particles that at the same time are impelling i t in the opposite direction, with no effect (Ax. 20).9 Th is would be contrary to the hypothesis.

PROPOSITION 3 3 Body B , under the conditions stated previously, can be moved i n any direction Iry any additional force, however small.

Proof Because all bodies immediately contiguous to B are in motion (by hy­ pothesis), and B (Prop. 32) remains unmoved, as soon as they touch B they will be reflected in another direction while retaining their original motion (Prop. 28 Part 2). Thus body B is all the time automatically being lefl by immediately con­ tiguous bodies. And so, whatever magnitude is assigned to B, no action is required to separate i t from immediately con tiguous bodies (Note 4 of Def. 8). So any ex­ ternal force striking against i t, however small it is imagined to be, is bound to be greater than the force that B possesses for remaining in the same place (for we have just demonstrated that B possesses no force for adhering to its immediately contiguous bodies), and, when added to the impulse of those particles that to­ gether with it are impell ing B by external force in the same direction, it is also bound to be greater than the force of other particles impelling B in the opposite direction (for, disregarding this external force, the one force was supposed to be equal to the other). Therefore (Ax. 20) body B will be moved in any direction by this external force, however small i t be imagined. Q.E.D.

9 [Here I follow the generally accepted emendation of 29 to 20 - S.S. J

Part 2, Proposition 35 1 7 1

PROPOSITION 3 4 Body B, under the same conditions a s previously, cannot move more quickly than it is impelled by the external force, even though the particles by which it is surrounded are in much swifter motion.

Proof Although the particles that, together with the external force, are impell ing B in the same direction are in much swifter motion than the external force can move B, yet because (by hypothesis) they have no more force than the bodies that are repelling B in the opposite direction, they will use up all the power of their determination merely in resisting these, without imparting any speed to B (Prop. 32 Part 2). Therefore, because no other circumstances or causes are supposed, B will not receive any amount of speed from any cause other than the external force, and therefore (Ax. 8 Part I) i t cannot move more quickly than it is impelled by the external force. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 35 Whcm body B is thus moved by an external impulse, it receives the greatest part of its motion from the bodies by which it is constantly surrounded, and not from the external force.

Proof Even though body B is imagined to be very large, it must be moved by even the smallest impulse (Prop. 33 Part 2) . Let us then conceive B as four times as large as the external body by whose force i t is impelled. Therefore, because both must move at the same speed (preceding Prop.) , there will be four times as much motion in B as in the external body by which it is impelled (Prop. 21 Part 2). Therefore (Ax. 8 Part I ) i t does not have the principal part of its motion from the external cause. And because, apart from this cause, no causes are supposed other than the bodies by which it is constantly surrounded (for B is supposed to be not moving of itself), then i t is only from the bodies by which i t is surrounded (Ax. 7 Part I) that it receives the principal part of its motion, and not from the external cause. Q.E .D.

Note that here we cannot say, as previously, that the motion of particles com­ ing from one direction is required in order to resist the motion of particles com­ ing from the opposite direction. For bodies moving toward each other with equal motion (as these are supposed) are contrary only by determination, 1 O and not by motion (Cor. Prop. 19 Part 2). And so in resisting one another they use up only their determination , and not their motion. Therefore body B can receive no de­ termination, and consequently (Cor. Prop. 27 Part 2) no speed insofar as that is distinct from motion-from adjacent bodies. But it can receive motion; indeed, when the extra force is added, it must necessarily be moved by them, as we have demonstrated in this proposition and as can be clearly seen from the manner of the proof of Proposition 33 .

1 0 See Prop. 24 Part 2, where d IS demonstrated that two bodies, In reslstmg one another, expend their determination, not their mohon

172 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

PROPOSITION 36 If any body (e.g., our hand) can move in any direction whatsoever with equal mo­ tion without offering any resistance to any bodies or meeting with any resistance from any other bodies, then in that space through which it would thus move there must necessarily be as many bodies moving in one direction as there are bodies mov­ ing in any other direction, their force of speed being equal to one another's and to that of the hand.

Proof Any space through which a body can move is bound to be full of bodies (Prop. 3 Part 2). I therefore say that the space through which our hand can thus move is filled with bodies which will move in the manner I have already de­ scribed. For if you deny th is, let them be supposed to be at rest, or to move in a different way. If they are at rest, they will necessarily resist the motion of the hand until its motion is communicated to them (Prop. 14 Part 2) . so that finally they will move together with it in the same direction at the same speed (Prop. 20 Part 2) . But in the hypothesis they are supposed not to resist; therefore these bodies are in motion. Th is was the first poin t to be proved.

Furthermore, they must be moving in all directions. If you deny this, suppose that there is some direction in which they are not moving, say from A toward B . Therefore i f the hand is moving from A toward B, it will necessarily meet moving bodies (by the first part of th is proof), bodies, by your hypothesis, with a determi­ nation different from that of the hand. Therefore they will resist it (Prop. 14 Part 2) until they move along with the hand in the same direction (Prop. 24 and Schol. Prop. 27 Part 2). But, by hypothesis, they do not resist the hand. Therefore they will be moving in all directions. That was the second point.

Again, these bodies will be moving in all directions equaling one another in force of speed. For if they were supposed not to be moving with equal force of

speed, suppose that those that are moving from A toward B are

L not moving with as much force of speed as those that are mov­ ing from A toward C. Therefore if the hand (for it is supposed to be able to move with equal motion in all directions without re-

A sistance) were to move from A toward B with the same speed with which bodies are moving from A toward C, the bodies mov­

ing from A toward B will resist the hand (Prop. 14 Part 2) until they move with a force of speed equal to that of the hand (Prop. 31 Part 2). But this is contrary to the hypothesis. Therefore they will move with equal force of speed in all direc­ tions. That was the third point.

Finally, if the bodies are not moving with the same force of speed as the hand, then the hand will either move more slowly, with less force of speed, or more qUickly, with greater force of speed, than the bodies. If the former, the hand will resist the bodies that are following i t in the same direction (Prop. 31 Part 2) . If the latter, the bodies that the hand is following and with which it is moving in the same direction will resist it (same Prop.) . Each of these is contrary to the hypoth­ esis. Therefore, because the hand can move neither more slowly nor more quickly than the bodies, it will move with the same force of speed as the bodies. Q.E.D.

Part 2, Proposition 37 173

If you ask why I say 'with equal force of speed' and not simply 'with equal speed', read Schol ium Cor. Prop. 27 Part 2 . If you then ask whether the hand, while moving (e.g. , from A toward B), does not resist bodies that are moving at the same time with equal force from B toward A, read Prop. 33 Part 2, from which you will understand that their force is balanced by the force of the bodies moving together with the hand at the same time from A toward B (for, by the third part of this Prop., these two forces are equal).

PROPOSITION 37 If a body A can be moved in any direction whatsoever by any force, however small, it must necessarily be surrounded by bodies that are moving at the same speed as one another.

Proof Body A must be surrounded on all sides by bodies (Prop. 6 Part 2), bod­ ies that are moving equally in all directions. For if they were at rest, body A could not be moved, as is supposed, in any direction whatsoever by any force, however small, but only by such force as could at least be able to move along with itself the bodies immediately contiguous to A @O B Ax. 20 Part 2). Again, if the bodies by which A is surrounded were moving with greater force in one direction than in an- other-say, with greater force from B toward C than from C toward B-then be­ cause it is surrounded on all sides by moving bodies (as we have just now demon­ strated), the bodies moving from B toward C would necessarily take A along with them in the same direction (by what we have demonstrated in Prop. 33) . So it is not any force, however small, that will suffice to move A toward B; it must be ex­ actly such as would counterbalance the excess of motion of the bodies coming from B toward C (Ax. 20). Therefore they must be moving with equal force in all directions. Q.E.D.

Scholium Because this is the case with bodies called flu id, i t follows that fluid bodies are those that are divided into many tiny particles moving with equal force in all directions. And although those particles cannot be seen by any eye, even a lynx's, one must not deny what we have now clearly demonstrated. For from our previously stated Props. 10 and I I , a minuteness of nature such as cannot be de­ termined or attained by any thought, not to say the senses, is sufficiently proved. Furthermore, because it is also well established from what has preceded that bod­ ies resist other bodies merely by their rest, and that we, as our senses indicate, per­ ceive of hardness nothing more than that the parts of hard bodies resist the motion of our hands, we clearly infer that those bodies are hard, all of whose par­ ticles are at rest in close proximity to one another. Read Arts. 54, 5 5 , 56 Part 2 of the Principia.

End of Part 2

1 74 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY

DEMONSTRATED IN THE GEOMETRIC MANNER

PART 3

Having thus set forth the most universal principles of natural things, we must now go on to explain what follows from them. However, because the things that fol­ low from these principles exceed all that our mind can ever survey in thought, and because we are not determined by them to consider some in particular rather than others, we should first of all present a brief account of the most important phenomena whose causes we shall here be investigating. But this you have in Arts. 5-1 5 Part 3 of the Principia. And in Arts. 20-43 is set out the hypothesis that Descartes j udges most suitable not only for understanding the phenomena of the heavens but also for seeking out their natural causes.

Then again, because the best way to understand the nature of Plants or Man is to consider in what way they gradually come into existence and are generated from their seeds, we must devise such principles as are the simplest and easiest to know, from which we may demonstrate that the stars, the earth, in short, every­ thing we observe in this visible world, could have arisen as from certain seeds­ al though we may well know that they never did thus arise. For in th is way we shall explain their nature far better than if we were to describe them only as they are now.

I say that we seek principles that are simple and easy to know; for unless they are such, we shall not be in need of them. The only reason why we assign seeds to things is to get to know their natu re more easily and, l ike mathematicians, to ascend from the clearest to the more obscure and from the simplest to the more complex.

Next, we say that the principles we seek are such that we may demonstrate that from them the stars, the earth, etc. , could have arisen . For we do not seek causes that suffice only to explain the phenomena of the heavens, as is the common prac­ tice of astronomers, but such as may also lead us to knowledge of the things on earth. For we hold that everything we observe to happen above the earth should be counted as phenomena of nature. Now to discover these causes, the following are the requirements of a good hypothesis.

1. Considered only in itself, it must not imply any contradiction. 2 . It must be the simplest that can be.

Part 3, Postulate 1 7 5

3 . FoIl owing from (2), it must be very easy t o know. 4. Everyth ing that is observed in the whole of nature must be able to be de­

duced from it.

We have said, finaIly, that it is aIlowable for us to assume a hypothesis from which we can deduce, as from a cause, the phenomena of nature, even though we well know that they did not arise in that way. For th is to be understood, I shaIl make use of the foIl owing example. If someone were to find drawn on a sheet of paper the curved line we call a parabola and wished to enqu ire into its natu re, i t would make no difference whether he were to suppose that the line was first cut from a cone and then imprinted on the paper, or that the line was described as a result of the motion of two straight l ines, or that it arose in some other way, provided that h is supposition enabled him to demonstrate all the properties of a parabola. In­ deed, even though he may know that it originated from the imprinting of a conic section on the paper, he can nevertheless assume any other cause he pleases that seems to him most convenient for explaining all the properties of a parabola. So too, in order to explain the features of nature, we are permitted to assume any hy­ pothesis we please, provided we deduce from it by mathematical inference all the phenomena of nature. And a more important point to note is th is, that there is hardly any assumption we can make from which the same effects cannot be de­ duced-although perhaps with more trouble-from the laws of nature explained previously. For because, by the operation of those laws, matter assumes succes­ sively all the forms of which it is capable, if we consider those forms in due order, we shaIl finally be able to arrive at the form that is the form of this world. So one need fear no error from a false hypothesis.

P os tula te

It is requested that the following be taken for granted. All the matter of which this visible world is composed was in the beginning divided by God into parti­ cles as near as possible equal to one another. These were not spherical because a number of tiny spheres j oined together do not fill a continuous space. These parts were of different shapes and medium size; that is, of a size in termediate be­ tween all those of which the heavens and the stars are now composed. The parts possessed in themselves the same amount of motion as is now found in the world and moved with equal speed. Individually, they moved about their own centers, each independently of the others, so as to compose a flu id body such as we th ink the heavens to be. Many also moved in unison around certain other points, equi­ distant from one another and arranged in the same way as are now the cen ters of the fixed stars. Others, again, moved about a somewhat greater number of other points that are equal to the number of the planets, thus forming as many differ­ en t vortices as there now are stars in the world. See the diagram in Art. 47 Part 3 of the Principia.

176 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

This hypothesis, regarded in itself, impl ies no contradiction, for it ascribes to matter nothing except divisibility and motion, modifications that we have already shown to exist in reality in matter; and because we have shown that matter is boundless, and one and the same in the heavens and on earth, we can suppose these modifications to have been in the whole of matter without any danger of contradiction.

Again, this hypothesis is the simplest because it supposes no inequal ity or dis­ similarity in the particles into which matter was divided in the beginning, nor yet in their motion . From this it follows that this hypothesis is also very easy to know. This is also evident from the fact that by this hypothesis noth ing is supposed to have been in matter except what everyone immediately knows from the mere con­ cept of matter, divisibil ity, and local motion.

That everything observed in nature can be deduced from this hypothesis, we shall try to show as far as possible in actual fact, adopting the following order. F irst, we shall deduce from it the fluidity ofthe heavens, explaining how this is the cause ofl ight. Then we shall proceed to the nature of the sun, and at the same time to what is observed in the fixed stars. After that we shall speak of comets, and lastly of the planets and their phenomena.

Defini ti ons

I . By ecliptic we understand that part of a vortex that, in rotating about its axis, describes the greatest circle.

2 . By poles we understand the parts of a vortex that are farthest away from the ecliptic or that describe the smallest circles.

3. By conatus to motion we understand, not some thought, but that a part of matter is so situated and stirred to motion that i t would in fact be going in some direction if it were not impeded by any cause.

4. By angle we understand whatever in any body projects beyond a spherical shape.

Axi oms

I. A number of small spherical bodies joined together cannot occupy a con­ tinuous space.

2 . A portion of matter divided into angular parts, if its parts are moving about their own centers, requires more space than if its parts were all at rest and all their sides were immediately contiguous to one another.

3 . The smaller a part of matter is, the more easily it is divided by the same force.

4. Parts of matter that are moving in the same direction and in that motion do not withdraw from one another are not in actuality divided.

PROPOSITION 1

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part I, Chapter I 177

The parts into which matter was {irst divided were not round but angular.

Proof All matter was in the beginning divided into equal and similar parts (Pos­ tulate). Therefore (Ax. I and Prop. 2 Part 2) they were not round; and so (Def. 4) they were angular. Q.E.D.

PROPOSITION 2 The force that brought it about that the particles of matter should move about their own centers, at the same time brought it about that the angles of the particles should be worn away by collision with one another.

Proof In the beginning, all matter was divided into equal (Postulate) and angu­ lar (Prop. I Part 3) parts. Therefore, if their angles had not been worn away as soon as they began to move about their own centers, then of necessity (Ax. 2) the whole of matter would have had to occupy more space than when it was at rest. But this is absurd (Prop. 4 Part 2). Therefore their angles were worn away as soon as they began to move. Q.E.D.

The rest is lacking.

APPENDIX CONTAINING

METAPHYSICAL THOUGHTS

PART 1

In which are briefly explained the principal questions that commonly arise in the general part of Metaphysics,

with regard to Being and its modifications .'

Chapter 1 Of Real Being, Fictitious Being, and Being of Reason

I shall say noth ing about the definition of th is Science, nor about its subject mat­ ter. My intention here is only to explain matters that are rather obscure and are commonly treated by writers on metaphysics.

I [The end and purpose of thiS Part IS to show that ordmary Logic and Philosophy serve only to exer� cise and strengthen the memory. enabling us to keep In mnd thmgs that are presented to us through

178 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

[Definition of Being. ] Let us begin, then, with Being, by which I understand 'Everything which, when it is clearly and distinctly perceived, we find to exist nec­ essarily or at least possibly.'

[The Chimera, the Fictitious Being and the Being of Reason are not beings. ] From this definition, or, if you prefer, description, it follows that a Chimera, a Fic­ titious Being and a Being of Reason can in no way be classed as beings. For a Chimera, of its own nature, cannot exist. (N.B. By the term 'Chimera', here and in what follows, is to be understood that whose nature involves open contradic­ tion, as is more fully expla ined in Chapter 3.) A Fictitious Being excludes clear and distinct perception, because a man merely according to h is fancy-and not unknowingly, as in the case of the false, but knowingly and wittingly- joins to­ gether what he wants to join and separates what he wants to separate. Finally, a Being of Reason is nothing but a mode of th inking, which serves the more easily to retain, explain, and imagine things that are understood. Here it should be noted that by a mode of th inking we understand, as we explained in Schol. Prop. 1 5 Part I , all modifications of thought, such as intellect, j oy, imagination, etc.

[By what modes of thinking we retain things.] That there are certain modes of th inking that serve to retain things more firmly and more easily, and, when we wish, to recall them to mind or to set them before the mind, is an accepted fact for all those who make use of that well-known rule of memory. By this rule, in or­ der to retain someth ing that is qui te new and impress it on the memory, we have recourse to another th ing, familiar to us, that has something in common with it either in name or in actual ity. Similarly, philosophers have arranged all natural things in fixed classes, to which they have recourse when they encounter some­ thing new. These classes they call genus, species, etc .

[By what modes of thinking we explicate things. ] Again, we have modes ofthink­ ing for expl icating a th ing by determining it in comparison with another th ing. The modes of th inking by which we do this are called time, number, measure, and such others as there are. Of these, time serves to explicate duration, number (discrete quantity), and measure (continuous quantity).

[By what modes of thinking we imagine things. ] Finally, because we are also ac­ customed to depict in our fantasy images of all the things that we understand, it comes about that we imagine nonbeings pOSitively as beings. For the mind, con­ s idered only in itself, because it is a thinking th ing, has no greater power to affirm than to deny. But because to imagine is nothing other than to sense those traces found in the bra in from the motion of the spirits, which is excited in the senses by objects, such a sensing can only be a confused affirmation . Hence it comes about that we imagine as beings all the modes that the mind uses to negate, such as bl indness, extremity or l imit, boundary, and darkness.

[Why beings of reason are not ideas of things, and yet are taken to be such. ] Hence it is evident that these modes of thinking are not ideas of things and can

the senses at random, Without order or connection, and Insofar as we can be affected by them only through the senses; but they do not serve to exercISe the mtellect - P.B.]

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part I, Chapter I 179

in no way be classed as ideas. So they also have no object (ideatum) that exists of necessity or that can exist. The reason why these modes of th inking are taken for ideas of th ings is that they originate and arise so immediately from real beings that they are easily confused with them by those who do not pay careful atten­ tion. Hence they have even given them names as if to s ignifY beings existing out­ side our mind; and these beings, or rather nonbeings, they have called beings of reason .

[Being is wrongly divided into Real Being and Being of Reason. ] And so it i s easy to see how absurd is that division whereby being is divided into real being and be­ ing of reason, for they are dividing being into being and nonbeing, or into being and a mode of thinking. Still , I am not surprised that verbal or grammatical philosophers fall into errors l ike these, for they judge things from words, not words from things.

[In what way a Being of Reason can be termed a mere nothing, and in what way it may be termed Real Being. ] No less absurdly does he speak who says that a be­ ing of reason is not a mere noth ing. For if he seeks outside the intellect what is meant by those words, he will find it is mere noth ing, whereas ifhe understands them as modes of th inking, they are true real beings. For when I ask what is species, I am only enqUiring into the nature of that mode of thinking that is in fact a being and is distinct from another mode of thinking. However, these modes of th inking cannot be termed ideas nor can they be said to be true or false, j ust as love cannot be called true or false, but only good or bad. So when Plato sa id that man is a featherless biped creature,2 he erred no more than those who said that man is a rational creature. For Plato knew no less than others that man is a ra­ tional creature, but he referred man to a certa in class so that, when he wanted to think about man, by having recourse to the class that was easy for him to re­ member, he could immediately come to th ink of man. Indeed, it was Aristotle who was gravely at fault if he thought that by that definition of his he had ade­ quately expla ined human essence. As to whether Plato was right, that is another question; but this is not the place for these matters.

[In the investigation of things Real Beings should not be confused with Beings of Reason. ] From all that has been said already, it is obvious that there is no agreement between real being and the objects (ideata) of a being of reason. Hence it is also easy to see how carefully, in our investigation of things, we must beware of confus­ ing real beings with beings of reason. For it is one thing to enquire into the nature of things, and quite another to enquire into the modes by which we perceive things. If these are confused, we shall not be able to understand either modes of perceiv­ ing or nature itself. Indeed -and this is a point of greatest importance- it will be the cause of our fall ing into grave errors, as has happened to many before us.

[How a Being of Reason and Fictitious Being are to be distinguished. ] It should also be noted that many people confuse a being of reason with a fictitious being, for they think that a fictitious being is also a being of reason because it has no existence

2 [See Plato, Statesman, 266e.]

180 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

oUlliide the mind. But if attention is correctly paid to the definitions just given of being of reason and fictitious being, a considerable difference will be found be­ tween them both from consideration of their cause and also from their own nature without regard to cause. For we defined fictitious being as the connecting of two terms by mere act of will without any gUidance of reason, and therefore a fictitious being can chance to be true. But a being of reason neither depends solely on the will nor does it consist of any terms j oined together, as is quite obvious from the def­ inition . So if someone asks whether a fictitious being is a real being or a being of reason, we should reply by repeating what we have just said, namely, that to divide being into real being and being of reason is a mistake, and so the question as to whether fictitious being is real being or being of reason is based on error. For it pre­ supposes that all being is divided into real being and being of reason.

[The division of Being. ] But let us return to our theme, from which we now seem to have digressed somewhat. From the definition, or, if you prefer, the de­ scription of being already given, it is easy to see that being should be divided into being that exislli necessarily of illi own nature (i .e. , whose essence involves exis­ tence) and being whose essence involves only possible existence. This last is di­ vided into Substance and Mode, whose definitions are given in Arlli. 5 1 , 52 , and 56 of Part I Prine. Philosoph.; so i t is not necessary to repeat them here. But con­ cerning th is division I want only this to be noted, that we expressly say that being is divided into Substance and Mode, not Substance and Accident For Accident is nothing more than a mode of th inking, inasmuch as it denotes only a relation [respectum] . For example, when I say that a triangle moves, motion is not a mode of the triangle, but of the body that moves. So motion is called accident in rela­ tion to the triangle, whereas in relation to body it is a real being or mode. For mo­ tion cannot be conceived without body, though it can without a triangle.

Furthermore, for the better understanding of what has already been said and also of what is to come, we shall try to explain what it is that should be understood by the terms 'essence', 'existence', 'idea', and 'potency'. In so doing we are also motivated by the ignorance of some people who do not recognize any distinction between essence and existence, or, if they do recognize it, they confuse what essence is with what idea is or what potency is. So for their sake and the sake of truth, we shall explain the matter as distinctly as possible in what follows.

Chapter 2 What Essence Is, What Existence Is, What Idea Is, and What Potency Is

So that one may clearly grasp what should be understood by these four terms, it is only necessary to reflect upon what we have sa id about uncreated substance or God, to wit:

[Creatures are in God eminently. ] I. God contains eminently what is to be found formally in created things; that is, God possesses attributes of such a kind

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part I, Chapter 2 l S I

that in them a re contained in a more eminent way all created things. See Part I Ax. 8 and Cor. I Prop. 1 2 . For example, we clearly conceive extension without any existence, and so, because i t has of itself no force to exist, we have demon­ strated that it is created by God (last Prop. of Part I . ) And because there must be at least as much perfection in the cause as in the effect, it follows that all the per­ fections of extension are in God. But because we then saw that an extended thing is of its own nature divisible, that is, it contains imperfection, we therefore could not attribute extension to God (Prop. 16 Part I ) , and so we were compelled to take the view that there is an attribute in God that contains in a more excellent way all the perfections of matter (Schol. Prop. 9 Part I) and that can fulfil the role of matter.

2. God understands himself and all other th ings, too; that is, he also has in himself all things in the form of thought (Prop. 9 Part I ) .

3 . God i s the cause o f all things, a nd he acts from absolute freedom o f will. [What Essence is, what Existence is, what Idea is, what Potency is. ] From this,

therefore, i t can clearly be seen what must be understood by those four th ings. First, that which is essence is nothing other than the way in which created things are comprehended in the attributes of God. That which is idea refers to the man­ ner in which all things are contained in the idea of God in the form of thought. That which is potency has reference only to the potency of God, whereby from absolu te freedom of will he could have created all things not already existing. Fi­ nally, that which is existence is the essence of things outside God when consid­ ered in itself and is attributed to things after they have been created by God.

[These four are distinguished from one another only in creatures.] From this it is evident that these four are distinguished from one another only in created things, but not at all in God. For we do not conceive God to have been in potency in another th ing, and h is existence and h is intellect are not distinguished from h is essence.

[A reply to certain questions concerning Essence. ] From this we can readily re­ ply to the questions that are commonly raised regarding essence. These questions are as follows: whether essence is distinct from existence; if so, whether it is some­ thing different from idea, and if that is the case, whether i t has any being outside the intellect. To this last question we must surely give assent. Now to the first ques­ tion we reply by making this distinction , that in God essence is not distinct from existence, because the former cannot be conceived without the latter, but that in other things essence differs from existence, seeing that it can be conceived with­ out existence. To the second question we say that a thing that is clearly and dis­ tinctly (i .e. , truly) conceived outside the intellect is something different from an idea. But then there is the further question as to whether th is being outside the intellect is self-generated or whether it is created by God. To this we reply that for­ mal essence is not self-generated nor again is it created-for both of these would presuppose that i t is a th ing existing in actual ity-but i t depends on the divine essence alone, in which all things are contained. And so in this sense we agree with those who say that the essences of things are eternal. I t could still be asked how we, not yet understanding the nature of God, understand the essences of

182 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

th ings, because they depend on the nature of God alone, as we have just said. In reply I say that this arises from the fuct that things are already created. If they had not been created, I would entirely agree that it would be impossible to understand them except after an adequate knowledge of the natu re of God, j ust as it is im­ possible- indeed, even less possible- to know the nature of the coordinates of a parabola without yet knowing the nature of a parabola.

[Why in his definition of essence the Author has recourse to the attributes of God. ] Furthermore, it should be noted that although the essences of nonexisting modes are comprehended in their substances, and that which is their essence is in their substances, we have nevertheless chosen to have recourse to God so as to give a general explanation of the essence of modes and substances. Another rea­ son for th is procedure is that the essence of modes has been in their substances only since the creation of the substances, and what we were seeking was the eter­ nal being of essences.

[Why the Author has not reviewed the definitions of others.] In this connection I do not th ink it worthwhile to refute those writers whose views differ from ours, nor again to examine their definitions or descriptions of essence and existence; for we would thus be obscuring what is clear. What can be clearer than our under­ standing of what essence is and what existence is, seeing that we cannot give the definition of anything without at the same time expla ining its essence?

[How the distinction between essence and existence is easily learned. ] Finall y, if any philosopher still doubts whether essence is distinguished from existence in created things, he need not toil away over definitions of essence and existence in order to remove that doubt. For if he merely approaches a sculptor or a wood­ carver, they will show him how they conceive in set order a nonexistent statue and thereafter bring i t into existence for him.

Chapter 3 Concerning the Necessary, the Impossible,

the Possible, and the Contingent

[What is here to be understood by affections.] Now that the nature of being, inso­ fur as it is being, has been explained, we pass on to the explanation of some of its affections. It should be noted that by affections we here understand what else­ where, in Art. 52 Part I Prine. Philosoph., Descartes has termed attributes. For be­ ing, insofar as it is being, does not affect us through itself alone, as substance, and has therefore to be expla ined through some attribute, from which, however, it is distinguished only by reason. Hence I cannot suffiCiently wonder at the subtlety of mind of those who have sought, not without great harm to truth, someth ing that is between being and noth ing. But I shall waste no time in refuting their error, be­ cause they themselves, in struggling to provide definitions of such affections, dis­ appear from sight in their own vain subtlety.

[Definition of affections. ] We shall therefore continue on our way, and we say

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part I, Chapter 3 183

that the affections of being are certain attributes under which we understand the essence or existence of each individual thing, although these attributes are dis­ tinguished from the thing only by reason. I shall here attempt to explain some of these affections (for I do not undertake to deal with them all) and to set them apart from those designations that are not affections of any being. And in the first place I shall deal with the Necessary and the Impossible.

[In how many ways a thing is said to be necessary or impossible. ] There are two ways in which a thing is said to be necessary or impossible, either with respect to its essence or with respect to its cause. With respect to essence we know that God necessarily exists, for his essence cannot be conceived without existence; whereas, with respect to the contradiction involved in its essence, a chimera is incapable of existence. With respect to cause, things (e.g . , material things) are said to be ei­ ther impossible or necessary. For if we have regard only to their essence, we can conceive that clearly and distinctly without existence; therefore they can never ex­ ist through the force and necessity of their essence, but only through the force of their cause, God, the creator of all things. So if it is in the divine decree that a th ing should exist, it will necessarily exist; if not, it will be impossible for it to exist. For it is self-evident that if a thing has no cause for existence- either an in­ ternal or an external cause- it is impossible for it to exist. Now in this second hy­ pothesis a th ing is supposed to be such that i t cannot exist either by force of its own essence-which I understand to be an in ternal cause-or by force of the di­ vine decree, the unique external cause of all th ings. Hence it follows that it is im­ possible for things, as we suppose them to be in the second hypothesis, to exist.

[A Chimera is properly called a verbal being.] Here it should be noted that: I . Because a chimera i s neither i n the intellect nor i n the imagination, we may prop­ erly call it a verbal being, for it can be expressed only in words. For example, we can express a square circle in words, but we cannot in any way imagine it, far less understand it. Therefore a ch imera is noth ing but a word; and so impossibility cannot be counted among the affections of being, for it is mere negation.

[Created things depend on God for their essence and existence. ] 2 . Not only the existence of created things but also, as we shall later on demonstrate with the great­ est certa inty in Part 2, their essence and their nature depend solely on God's de­ cree. Hence it clearly follows that created things have no necessity of themselves; for they have no essence of themselves, nor do they exist of themselves.

[The necessity that is in created things from their cause is either of essence or of existence; but these two are not distinguished in God. ] 3. Finally, the necessity such as is in created things by virtue of their cause is so called either with respect to their essence or with respect to their existence; for these two are distinct in cre­ ated things, the former depending on the eternal laws of nature, the latter on the series and order of causes. But in God, whose essence is not distinguished from h is existence, the necessity of essence is l ikewise not distinguished from the ne­ cessity of existence. Hence it follows that if we were to conceive the entire order of nature, we should find that many things whose nature we clearly and distinctly perceive- that is, whose essence is necessarily such as it is- could in no way ex­ ist. For we should find that the existence of such things in nature is just as much

1 84 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

impossible as we now see it to be impossible that a huge elephant should pass through the eye of a needle, although we clearly perceive the nature of both . Hence the existence of those th ings would be only a ch imera, which we could neither imagine nor understand.

[The Possible and the Contingent are not affections of things. ] So much for ne­ cessity and impossibility, to which I have thought i t advisable to add a few re­ marks concerning the poss ible and the con tingent. For these two are regarded by some as affections of th ings, whereas they are in fact nothing but a failure of our intellect, as I shall clearly show when I explain what is to be understood by these two terms.

[What is the Possible, and what the Contingent. ] A thing is said to be possible when we understand its efficient cause but do not know whether the cause is de­ termined. Hence we can also consider i t as possible, but not as either necessary or impossible. But if we attend s imply to the essence of the thing and not to its cause, we shall call the thing contingent, that is, we shall consider it as midway between God and a chimera, so to speak, because on the side of essence we find in it no ne­ cessity to exist1 as in the case of the divine essence, nor again any inconsistency or impossibil ity, as in the case of a chimera. Now if anyone wishes to call contingent what I call possible, or possible what I call contingent, I shall not oppose him, for it is not my custom to argue about words. It will be enough ifhe grants us that these two are only the defect of our perception, and not anything real.

[The Possible and the Contingent are only the defect of our intellect. ] If anyone wishes to deny this, his error can be demonstrated to him with no trouble. For if he attends to nature and the way it depends on God, he will find nothing con­ tingent in things, that is, noth ing that can either exist or not exist on the part of the thing, or is a real contingency, as i t is commonly called. This is readily ap­ parent from our teaching in Axiom 10 Part I, to wit, that the same force is required in creating a th ing as in preserving i t. So no created thing affects anything by its own force, j ust as no created thing began to exist by its own force. From this it fol­ lows that nothing happens except by the power of the all-creating cause-that is, God-who by h is concurrence at every moment continues to create all th ings. Now because nothing happens except by the divine power alone, it is easy to see that those things that happen do so by the force of God's decree and will. But be­ cause there is in God no inconstancy or variabil ity (by Prop. 18 and Cor. Prop. 20 Part I ) , he must have resolved from eternity to produce those things that he is now producing. And because nothing has a more necessary existence than that which God has decreed should exist, it follows that the necessity to exist has been from eternity in all created things. Nor can we say that those things are contin­ gent because God could have decreed otherwise. For because in eternity there is no when or before or after or any affection of time, i t follows that God never ex­ isted prior to those decrees so as to be able to decree otherwise. 3

3 [ In order that tius proof may be well understood, attention should be given to what IS mdicated In the second part of the AppendiX concerning the Will of God, to wit, that God's will or constant

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part I, Chapter 4 1 8 5

[To reconcile the freedom of our will with God's predestination surpasses human understanding. ] As to the freedom of the human will, which we asserted to be free in Schol. Prop. 1 5 Part I , th is too is preserved by the concurrence of God, nor does any man will or perform anything except what God has decreed from eter­ nity that he should will or perform. How this can be while saving human freedom is beyond our capacity to understand. Yet we must not reject what we clearly per­ ceive because of what we do not know, for if we attend to our nature, we clearly and distinctly understand that we are free in our actions, and that we reach deci­ sions on many th ings simply on account of our will to do so. Again, if we attend to the nature of God, as we have just shown, we clearly and distinctly perceive that all things depend on him, and that nothing exists except that whose existence God has decreed from eternity. But how the human will continues to be created by God at every moment in such a way as to remain free, we do not know. For there are many things that exceed our grasp and that nevertheless we know to have been brought about by God -for example, the real division of matter into indefinite particles, clearly demonstrated by us in Prop. 11 Part 2, although we do not know how that division comes about.

Note that we here take for granted that those two notions, the possible and the contingent, s ignify merely the defectiveness of our knowledge regarding the exis­ tence of a th ing.

Chapter 4 Of Duration and Time

[What is Eternity, Duration, and Time.] From our previous division of being into being whose essence involves existence and being whose essence involves only possible existence, there arises the distinction between eternity and duration . Of eternity we shall speak later at greater length. Here we say only that it is the at­ tribute under which we conceive the infinite existence of God. Duration is the attribute under which we conceive the existence of created things, insofar as they persevere in their actuality. From this it clearly follows that duration is d istin­ guished only by reason from the total existence ofa thing. For as much as you take away from the duration of a th ing, so much you necessarily take away from its ex­ istence. Now in order that duration may be determined, we compare it with the

decree IS understood only when we conceive the thmg clearly and distinctly. For the essence of the thmg, considered In rtself. is nothmg other than God's decree, or his deternnnate wIll . But we are ruso saying that the necessity of eXistence is no different from the necessity of essence (Chapter 9 of Part 2); that is, when we say that God has decreed that the triangle should exist, we are saying nothing other than that God has so arranged the order of nature and of causes that the triangle should necessarily eXISt at a particular time. So if we were to understand the order of causes as es­ tablished by God, we should fmd that the triangle nrust exist at a particular time with the same ne� Cesslty as we now fmd, when we attend to the triangle's nature, that its three angles are equal to two nght angles - P.B I

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duration of other things that have a fixed and determinate motion, and this com­ parison is called time. Therefore time is not an affection of things, but a mere mode of thinking, or, as we have previously called it, a being of reason; for it is a mode of th inking serving to explicate duration. Here with regard to duration we should note something that will be useful to us later when we speak about eter­ nity, to wit, that it is conceived as longer and shorter and as if composed of parts, and, secondly, that i t is an attribute of existence only, not of essence.

Chapter 5 Of Opposition, Order, Etc.

[What are Opposition, Order, Agreement, Difference, Subject, Adjunct, etc . ] From our comparing things with one another there arise certain notions that are nev­ ertheless noth ing outside things themselves but modes of thinking. This is shown by the fact that if we wish to consider them as things having a place outside thought, we immediately render confused the otherwise clear conception we have of them. Such notions are opposition, order, agreement, difference, subjec� ad­ j unct, and any others l ike these. These notions, I say, are quite clearly perceived by us insofur as we conceive them not as something different from the essences of the things that are opposed, ordered, etc . , but merely as modes of th inking whereby we more easily reta in or imagine the things themselves. I therefore do not consider it necessary to speak of them at greater length, but pass on to the terms commonly called transcendental.

Chapter 6 Of the One, the True, and the Good

These terms are considered by almost all metaphysicians as the most general af­ fections of being; for they say that every being is one, true and good even though this may not be in anyone's thought. But we shall see what is to be understood re­ garding these terms when we examine each of them separately.

[What Unity is. ] Let us begin, then, with the first, to wi� the one. They say that this term signifies something real outside the intellect. But they cannot explain what this adds to being, and this is a clear indication that they are confusing beings of reason with real being and are thereby rendering confused that which they clearly understand. But we on our part say that unity is in no way distinct from the thing itself or additional to being and is merely a mode ofthinking whereby we sep­ arate a th ing from other things that are similar to it or agree with it in some respect.

[What plurality is, and in what respect God can be called one, and in what re­ spect unique. ] The opposite of unity is plural ity, which l ikewise obviously adds nothing to things, nor is it anything but a mode of thinking, j ust as we clearly and distinctly understand. Nor do I see what more rema ins to be said regarding a th ing

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part I, Chapter 6 187

so clear, except that here i t should be noted that, insofar as we separate God from other being., he can be said to be one; but insofar as we conceive that there can­ not be more than one of the same nature, he is called unique. In truth, if we wished to look into the matter more rigorously, we might perhaps show that God is only improperly called one and unique. But this question is of l ittle impor­ tance- indeed, it is of no importance- to those who are concerned with thing. rather than words. Therefore we leave this and pass on to the second term, at the same time explaining what the false is.

[What is the true and what the false, both in the common acceptance and ac­ cording to philosophers . ] In order that these two, the true and the false, may be correctly perceived, we shall begin with the meaning of words, from which i t will be evident that these are only the extrinsic marks of thing., and it is only figura­ tively that they are attributed to things. But because it is the common people who first invent words that are then used by philosophers, it seems relevant for one who seeks the original meaning of a word to enquire what it first denoted among com­ mon people, especially when other causes, which might have been derived from the nature of language, are not available for the investigation. The first meaning of true and false seems to have had its origin in storytelling, and the tale was sa id to be true if i t was of something that had occurred in actuality, and false if it was of something that had nowhere occurred. Later, philosophers made use of this sig­ nification to denote the agreement or disagreement of an idea with its object (idea­ tum). Therefore an idea is said to be true if it shows us the thing as it is in itself, false if it shows us the thing otherwise than as it really is. For ideas are merely men­ tal narrations or accounts of nature. And hence these terms came to be appl ied metaphorically to lifeless thing., as when we talk about true or false gold, as if the gold presented before us were telling us something about itself that either is in it­ self or not

[The true is not a transcendental term. ] Therefore those who have held that 'the true' is a transcendental term or an affection of being are quite wrong. For this term can be applied to thing. themselves only improperly, or if you prefer, figu­ ratively.

[The difference between truth and a true idea. ] If you go on to ask what is truth other than a true idea, ask also what is whiteness other than a white body. For the relationship is the same in both cases.

We have already discussed the cause of the true and the cause of the false. So now there remains nothing to be noted, nor would i t have been worthwh ile not­ ing even what we have said if writers had not so tied themselves up in trifles l ike these that they could not then extricate themselves, always looking for a difficulty where there is none.

[What are the properties of truth? Certainty is not in things. ] The properties of truth, or a true idea, are ( I ) that it is clear and distinct, (2) that it removes all doubt, or, in a word, that i t is certa in. Those who look for certainty in thing. themselves are making the same mistake as when they look for truth in thing. themselves. And although we may say that a th ing is uncerta in, we are figuratively taking the ideatum for the idea. In the same way we also call a thing doubtful, unless per-

188 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

chance in this case by uncertainty we mean contingency, or a th ing that causes us uncerta inty or doubt. There is no need to spend more time on these matters, and so we shall proceed to the third term, at the same time explaining what is to be understood by its contrary.

[Good and Bad are only relative tenns. ] A th ing is not said to be either good or bad when considered in isolation, but only in relation to another th ing for which it is useful in ga ining what that thing loves, or contrariwise. Thus each s ingle th ing can be called good or bad at the same time in different respects. For example, the counsel that Achitophel gave to Absalom is called good in Holy Scripture, but it was very bad for David, being contrived for his death 4 And many other things are good, which are not good for all. Thus salvation is good for men, but neither good nor bad for animals or plants, for which i t has no relevance. God indeed is said to be supremely good because he benefits all, by h is concurrence preserving the be­ ing of each individual, than which nothing is more desirable. But no absolute evil exists, as is self-evident.

[Why some have maintained that there is a metaphysical good. ] But those who keep seeking some metaphysical good not qualified by any relation are laboring un­ der a misapprehension, in that they are confusing a distinction of reason with a real or modal distinction . For they are making a distinction between the thing itself and the conatus [striving] to preserve its own being, which every th ing possesses, al­ though they do not know what they mean by conatus. For although the thing and its conatus are distinguished by reason, or rather, by words (and this is the main cause of their error), the two are in no way distinct from one another in reality.

[The distinction between things and the conatus by which they endeavor to per­ severe in their state.] That this may be clearly understood, we shall take an exam­ ple of a very simple kind. Motion has force to persevere in its own state. Th is force is surely nothing else than motion itself, the fact that the natu re of motion is such as i t is. For if ! say that in th is body A there is nothing else than a certain quantity of motion, from this it clearly follows that, as long as I am attending to the body A, I must always say that the body is moving. For if I were to say that it is losing its force of motion, I am necessarily ascribing to it something else beyond what we supposed in the hypothesis, something that is causing i t to l ose its nature. Now if this reasoning seems rather obscure, then let us grant that this conatus to motion is someth ing other than the very laws and nature of motion. Because, then, you suppose this conatus to be a metaphysical good, this conatus will also necessarily have a conatus to persevere in its own being, and this again another conatus, and so ad infinitum. I cannot imagine anything more absurd than this. Now the rea­ son why they make a distinction between the conatus of a th ing and the thing itself is that they feel in themselves a wanting to preserve themselves, and they imagine a similar wanting in each individual th ing.

[Whether God can be called good before things were created. ] However, the question is raised as to whether God could be called good before he created things; and it seems to follow from our definition that God did not possess any

4 [2 Sarrruel l7 - l4 J

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chapter I 189

such attribute because we say that a th ing considered in itself alone cannot be called either good or bad. Many will th ink this absurd, but why I do not know. We attribute to God many attributes of this kind that did not belong to him, except potentially, before things were created, as when he is called creator, j udge, mer­ ciful, etc. Therefore arguments l ike th is ought not to be a h indrance to us.

[How perfection may be ascribed in a relative way, and how it may be ascribed absolutely. ] Furthermore, just as good and bad are only relative terms, so too is perfection, except when we take perfection to mean the very essence of a th ing. It is in this sense that we previously said that God possesses infinite perfection, that is, infinite essence or infinite being.

It is not my intention to go farther into these matters. The rest of what concerns the general part of Metaphysics I believe to be sufficiently well known, and there­ fore not worthwhile pursuing any farther.

APPENDIX CONTAINING

METAPHYSICAL THOUGHTS

PART 2

In which are briefly explained the main topics that commonly occur in the special part of Metaphysics,

concerning God, his attributes, and the human mind.'

Chapter 1 Of God's Eternity

[The division of Substance. ] We have already shown that in Nature there is noth­ ing but substances and their modes. So one should not here expect us to say any­ thing about substantial forms and real accidents, for these and thing. of th is type are plainly absurd. We then divided substances into two general kinds, extension and thought, and we divided thought into created thought (i .e . , the human mind) and uncreated thought (i .e . , God). The existence of God we have demonstrated

1 [In thiS section God's eXIStence IS explained In a way quite different from that in which men com­ monly understand It, for they confuse God's eXistence with thetr own, with the result that they umg­ ine God to be somethmg like a man, and they fall to note the true idea of God that they possess, or are qUite unconsciOUS of possessmg It. And so It comes about that they can neither prove nor con­ ceive God's existence either a pnori (I.e., from hIS true defmdion or essence) or a postenorl, from the Idea of him Insofar as d IS lD us. Therefore m thIS sechon we shall try to show as clearly as we can that God's eXistence IS completely different from the existence of created things - P B 1

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more than adequately both a posteriori, from the idea we have of him, and a pri­ ori, from his essence as being the cause of his existence. But because we have treated certain of his attributes more briefly than the importance of the subject requires, we have decided to return to them here, to explain them more fully and also to provide answers to some problems.

[Duration does not pertain to God.] The principal attribute that must be con­ sidered before all others is God's eternity, whereby we explicate h is duration; or rather, to avoid attributing any duration to God, we say that he is eternal. For, as we noted in the first Part, duration is an affection ofthe existence of things, not of their essence; but we cannot attribute any duration to God, whose existence is of his essence. For whoever attributes duration to God is distinguishing his existence from his essence. There are some, however, who ask whether at this moment God has not been in existence longer than when he created Adam; and it seems to them quite clear that this is so, and thus they hold that durntion must in no way be de­ nied to God. But they are guilty of petitio principii, in assuming that God's essence is distinct from his existence. They ask whether God, who existed up to the time of Adam, has not existed over more time between the creation of Adam and our time. Thus they are attributing a longer durntion to God as each day passes, and they as­ sume that he is, as it were, continuously created by h imself. If they did not distin­ gu ish God's existence from h is essence, they could not possibly attribute duration to God, because duration can in no way perta in to the essences of things. For no one will ever say that the essence of a circle or a triangle, insofar as it is an eternal truth, has lasted longer at this moment than at the time of Adam. Furthermore, be­ cause durntion is conceived as longer or shorter, or as consisting of paris, it clearly follows that no durntion can be attributed to God. For because h is being is eternal, that is, there cannot be in it any before or after, we can never attribute duration to God without at the same time destroying the true conception we have of him. That is to say, by attributing durntion to him we would be dividing into parts that wh ich of its own nature is infinite and can never be conceived except as infinite.2

[The reasons why writers hcrve attributed duration to God. ] Now the reasons why writers have thus erred are: ( I ) They have attempted to explain eternity without giving their attention to God, as if eternity could be understood without consid­ eration of the divine essence, or were something other than the divine essence. And this again has arisen because, through poverty oflanguage, we are in the habit of a ttributing eternity even to th ings whose essence is distinct from their existence, as when we say that no contradiction is implied in the world having been in exis­ tence from eternity; and again when we attribute eternity to the essences of things while we conceive the things as not existing; for we then call the essences eternal . (2) They have been attributing duration to things only insofar as they held them to be subject to continuous variation, and not, as is our prnctice, in accordance as their essence is distinguished from their existence. (3) Finally, they have distin­ guished God's essence from h is existence, as is the case with created things.

2 [We are dividmg hiS existence into parts, or conceiving It as diViSible, when we attempt to explicate it through duration See Part 1 , 4 - P RJ

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chapter 2 1 9 1

These errors, I say, have led them astray. By reason of the first error they have failed to understand what eternity is, taking it rather to be some kind of duration . The second error made it difficult for them to see the difference between the du­ ration of created things and God's eternity. Finally, because duration is only an affection of existence and they have made a distinction between God's existence and h is essence, the third error has led to their attributing duration to God, as we have already sa id.

[What is Eternity.] But for the better understanding of what eternity is, and how it cannot be conceived without the divine essence, attention must be given to what we have said already, namely, that created thing.- that is, all things besides God -always exist solely by the force or essence of God, and not by their own force. Hence i t follows that the present existence of thing. is not the cause of their future existence. Only God's immutability is the cause, which compels us to say that when God has created a th ing in the first place, he will thereafter continu­ ously preserve it, that is, he will continue the same action of creating it. From this we conclude:

I. That a created th ing can be said to enjoy existence, on the grounds that existence is not of its essence. But God cannot be said to enjoy existence, for God's existence is God himself, just as is his essence. Hence it follows that created things en joy existence, but th is is not so with God.

2 . That all created thing., wh ile enjoying present duration and existence, are entirely lacking in future duration and existence, because this has to be continuously attributed to them, whereas nothing of the sort can be said of their essence. But because God's existence is of his essence, we cannot attribute future existence to him. For the same existence that he would then have must even now be attributed to h im in actual ity; or, to speak more properly, infinite actual existence pertains to God in the same way as infinite actual intellect pertains to him. Now this infinite existence I call eternity, which is to be attributed to God alone and not to any created thing, even though, I say, its duration is without beginning or end.

So much for eternity. Of God's necessity I say noth ing, there being no need now that we have demonstrated his existence from h is essence. Let us proceed, there­ fore, to his un ity.

Chapter 2 Of the Unity of God

We have often wondered at the futile arguments with which writers attempt to prove the unity of God, arguments such as: If one could have created the world, others would have been superfluous; if all thing. work together to the same end, they have been produced by one maker, and other arguments l ike these, drawn

192 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

from the relationship of things or their extrinsic characteristics. So, dismissing all these arguments, we shall here set out our proof as clearly and as briefly as possi­ ble, as follows.

[God is unique.] Among God's attribu tes we have also l isted the highest degree of understanding, adding that he possesses all h is perfection from himself and not from any other source. If you now say that there are more than one God, or supremely perfect beings, these must all necessarily possess understanding in the highest degree. That this may be so, it is not enough that each should understand only himself; for because each must understand all things, he must understand both h imself and the others. From this it would follow that the perfection of the intellect of each one would depend partly on h imself and partly on another. Therefore no one of them can be a supremely perfect being, that is, as we have j ust noted, a being that possesses all its perfection from itself, and not from any other source. Yet we have already demonstrated that God is a most perfect being, and that he exists. So we can now conclude that he exists as one alone; for if more than one God existed, it would follow that a most perfect being has imperfection , which is absurd. 3 So much for the unity of God.

Chapter 3 Of the Immeasurableness of God

[How God is called infinite, and how immeasurable. ] We have previously shown that no being can be conceived as finite and imperfect (i.e., as participating in nothingness) unless we first have regard to the perfect and infinite being, that is, God. So only God must be said to be absolutely infinite, in that we find him to consist in actual fact of infinite perfection. But he can also be said to be immeas­ urable or boundless insofar as we have regard to this point, that there is no being by which God's perfection can be l imited. From this it follows that the infinity of God, in spite of the form of the word, is something most positive; for it is insofar as we have regard to his essence or consummate perfection that we say that he is infinite. But measurelessness is attributed to God only in a relational way; for it does not pertain to God insofar as he is considered absolutely as a most perfect being, but only insofar as he is considered as a first cause that, even though it were most perfect only in relation to secondary beings, would nevertheless be meas­ ureless. For there would be no being, and consequently no being could be con­ ceived, more perfect than he by which he might be l imited or measured. (For a fuller discussion, see Axiom 9 Part I . )

[What is commonly understood by the immeasurableness orGod. ] Yet writers on all sides, in treating of the immeasurableness of God, appear to attribute

3 [Even though thIS proof IS quite convlDcmg. nevertheless It does not explain God's unity. I there� fore suggest to the reader that we conclude the umty afCad more correctly from the nature of his existence, which is not distinguished from God's essence, or which necessanly follows from hIS essence - P.B 1

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chapter 3 193

quantity to God. For from this attribute they wish to conclude that God must necessarily be present everywhere, as if they meant that if there were any place where God was not, his quantity would be l imited. This same point is even more clearly apparent from another argument they produce to show that God is infinite or measureless (for they confuse these two terms) and also that he is everywhere. If God, they say, is pure activity, as indeed he is, he is bound to be everywhere and infinite. For if he were not everywhere, then either he cannot be wherever he wants to be, or else (note th is) he must necessarily move about. This clearly shows that they attribute immeasurableness to God insofar as they consider him to be quantitative; for it is from the properties of extension that they derive these arguments for asserting the immeasurableness of God. Nothing could be more absurd.

[Proof that God is everywhere. ] If you now ask how, then, shall we prove that God is everywhere, I reply that we have abundantly demonstrated th is when we showed that nothing can exist even for a moment without being continuously cre­ ated by God at every single moment.

[God's omnipresence cannot be explained. ] Now, for God's ubiqu ity or h is pres­ ence in individual things to be properly understood, we should necessarily have to have a clear insight into the inmost nature of the divine will whereby he cre­ ated things and continuously goes on creating them. Because this exceeds human capacity, i t is impossible to explain how God is everywhere 4

[Some hold, wrongly, that God's immeasurableness is threefold. ] Some claim that God's immeasurableness is threefold-that of h is essence, h is power, and h is presence. But th is is nonsense, for they seem to distinguish between God's essence and his power.

[God's power is not distinct {rom his essence. ] Others, too, have said the same thing more openly, asserting that God is everywhere through power, but not through essence, as if God's power were distinct from all his attributes or his infi­ nite essence. But in fact i t can be noth ing else; for if it were something else, it would either be some creature or something accidental to the divine essence with­ out which the divine essence could be conceived. Both of these alternatives are absurd; for if it were a creature, it would need God's power for its preservation , and this would give rise to an infinite progression. And if it were something acci­ dental, God would not be a most simple being, contrary to what we have demon­ strated previously.

[Nor is his omnipotence. ] Finally, by the immeasurableness of his presence they again seem to mean something besides the essence of God, through which things have been created and are continuously preserved. This is surely a great absurd­ ity, into which they have fallen through confusing God's intellect with human in­ tellect, and frequently comparing his power with the power of kings.

4 [Here it should be noted that when ordmary folk say that God IS over all, they are deplcttng him as the spectator of a play From tins it is evident, as we say at the end of this chapter, that men are COD­ stantly confusing the divine nature with human nature - P RJ

194 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

Chapter 4 Of the Immutability of God

[What change is, and what transformation. ] By 'change' we here understand all the variation that can occur in a subject while the essence of the subject remains as i t was. But this term is also commonly taken in a broader sense to mean the corruption of th ings- not an absolute corruption, but such as also includes gen­ eration following on the corruption, as when we say that peat is changed into ashes, or men into beasts. But to denote this latter meaning philosophers use yet another word- transformation . Here we are speaking only of that change in which there is no transformation of the subject as when we say that Peter has changed his color, or his character, etc.

[In God there can be no transfonnation. ] We must now see whether such changes are appl icable to God, for there is no need to say anything about trans­ formation, now that we have shown that God exists necessarily, that is, that God cannot cease to be, or be transformed into another God. For then he would both cease to be, and also there could be more than one God at the same time. Both of these possibil ities we have shown to be absurd.

[What are the causes of change. ] However, for a clearer understanding of what here remains to be sa id, we must take into consideration that all change proceeds either from external causes, with or without the subject's consent, or from an in­ ternal cause and the subject's free choice. For example, that a man becomes darker, falls ill, grows, and the l ike, all proceed from external causes, the first two against the subject's will, the last in accordance with it. But that he wills, walks, displays anger, etc. , proceed from internal causes.

[God is not changed by something else. ] Now the first-named changes, those that proceed from external causes, cannot possibly apply to God; for he alone is the cause of all things and is not acted on by anyone. Moreover, nothing created has in itself any force to exist, and so far less can it have any force to act on any­ thing outside itself or on its own cause. And although there are many places in Holy Scripture where God has been angry, or sad, etc . , because of the sins of men, in these passages the effect is taken as the cause, just as we also say that the sun is stronger and higher in summer than in winter, although it has not changed its po­ sition or renewed its strength. And that such is often the teaching even of Holy Scripture is to be seen in Isa iah; for he says in chapter 59, verse 2 , when he is re­ buking the people: "Your iniquities separate you from your God."

[Nor again by himself ] Let us therefore proceed and ask whether any change can come about in God from God h imself. We do not grant that there can be such a change in God; indeed, we deny i t completely. For every change that depends on the will is designed to change its subject to a better state, and this cannot apply to a most perfect being. Then again, there can be no such change except for the purpose of avoiding something disadvantageous or of acquiring some good that is lacking. In the case of God there can be no place for either of

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chapter 5 19 5

these purposes. Hence we conclude that God i s an immutable being. 5 Note that I have here del iberately omitted the commonly accepted divisions of change, al­ though we have also in a sense covered them. For there was no need to deny them individually of God because in Prop. 16 Part I we have demonstrated that God is incorporeal, and those commonly accepted divisions refer only to changes in matter.

Chapter 5 Of the Simplicity of God

[The threefold distinction between things: real, modal, and a distinction of reason. ] Let us proceed to the simpl icity of God. In order that this attribute of God may be rightly understood, we must recall what Descartes said in Princip. Philosophiae Part I Arts. 48 and 49, to wit, that in Nature there is nothing but substances and their modes, whence in Arts. 60, 6 1 , and 62 he deduces a threefold distinction be­ tween things- real, modal, and a distinction of reason. What is called a real dis­ tinction is that whereby two substances, whether of different or of the same attribute, are distinguished from one another; for example, thought and extension, or the parts of matter. Th is distinction is recognized from the fact that each of the two can be conceived, and consequently can exist, without the help of the other. Modal distinction is of two kinds, that between a mode of substance and the sub­ stance itself, and that between two modes of one and the same substance. The latter we recognize from the fact that, although either mode can be conceived without the help of the other, neither can be conceived without the help of the substance of which they are modes. The former distinction we recognize from the fact that, although the substance can be conceived without its mode, the mode cannot be conceived without the substance. Finally, what is termed a distinction of reason is that which arises between a substance and its attribute, as when du­ ration is distingu ished from extension. And this is also recognized from the fact that such a substance cannot be understood without that attribute.

[How all composition arises, and how many kinds there are. ] All composition arises from these three kinds of distinction. The first composition is that of two or more substances either of the same attribute, as is the case with all composition

5 [Note that thiS can be Inlch more clearly seen If we attend to the nature of God's wtll and h is de­ crees. For, as I shall show In due course, God's will, through which he has created thmgs, is not diS­ tmct from hiS mtellect, through which he understands them. So to say that God understands that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two nght angles is the same as to say that God has willed or decreed that the three angles of a triangle should be equal to two nght angles Therefore, for us to conceive that God can change hiS decrees IS lust as Impossible as to thmk that the three angles of a trtangle are not equal to two rtght angles. Furthermore, the fact that there can be no change In God can also be proved in other ways; but, because we aim at breVity, we prefer not to pursue this further. - P.B.]

196 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

of two or more bodies, or of different attributes, as is the case with man. The sec­ ond composition results from the union of different modes. The th ird composi­ tion is not a composition, but is only conceived by reason as if it were so, in order that a thing may thereby be more easily understood. Whatever is not a composi­ tion of the first two kinds must be said to be simple.

[God is a most simple Being.] It must therefore be shown that God is not a com­ posite thing, from which we can conclude that he is a most simple being; and this we shall easily accomplish. Because it is self-evident that component parts are prior at least by nature to the composite whole, then of necessity those substances from whose coalescence and union God is composed will be prior to God by nature, and each can be conceived through itself without being attributed to God. Again, be­ cause they are necessarily distinct from one another in reality, then necessarily each of them can also exist through itself without the help of the others. And thus, as we have just said, there could be as many Gods as there are substances from which it was supposed that God is composed. For because each can exist through itself, it must exist of itself, and therefore it will also have the force to give itself all the per­ fections that we have shown to be in God, as we have already explained fully in Prop. 7 Part I, where we demonstrated the existence of God. Now because noth­ ing more absurd than this can be said, we conclude that God is not composed of a coalescence and union of substances. That there is also no composition of differ­ ent modes in God is convincingly proved from there being no modes in God. For modes arise from an alteration of substance-see Prine. Part 1 Art. 56. Finally, if someone wishes to imagine another kind of composition, from the essence of thing. and their existence, we by no means oppose h im . But let him remember that we have already sufficiently demonstrated that these two are not distinct in God.

[God's Attributes are distinguished only by Reason. ] Hence we can cl early con­ clude that all the distinctions we make between God's attributes are noth ing other than distinctions of reason, and that they are not distinct from one another in re­ al ity. Understand these distinctions of reason to be such as I have j ust referred to, namely, distinctions that are recognized from the fact that such-and-such a sub­ stance cannot be without that particular attribute. Hence we conclude that God is a most simple being. So now, disregarding the medley of distinctions made by the Peripatetics, we pass on to the life of God.

Chapter 6 Of the Life of God

[What philosophe .. commonly und ... tand by Life. ] For the correct understanding of this attribute, the life of God, it is necessary to explain in general terms what in the case of each individual th ing is meant by its l ife. We shall first examine the opin­ ion of the Peripatetics. By life they understand 'the continuance of the nutritive soul, accompanied by heat' -see Aristotle De Respirat. Book 1 Chapter 8.6 And be-

6 [The reference may be to De respiratione 474325, but see also De anima 4 1 5a23-25 J

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chapter 7 197

cause they imagined there to be three souls, the vegetative, the sensitive, and the intellective, which they attribute exclusively to plants, animals, and men, it follows, as they themselves acknowledge, that all else is devoid ofl ife. Even so, they did not venture to say that minds and God are without l ife. Perhaps they were afraid of full ing into the contrary view, that if these were without life, they were dead. So Aristotle in his Metaphysics Book 1 1 Chapter 7 gives yet another definition of l ife, appl icable only to minds, namely, that life is the operation of the intellect, and in this sense he attributes life to God, as one who understands and is pure activity?

However, we shall not spend much effort in refuting these views. For as regards the three souls that they attribute to plants, animals, and men, we have already sufficiently demonstrated that these are nothing but fictions, having shown that in matter there is nothing but mechanical structures and their operations. As to the life of God, I do not know why in Aristotle it should be called activity of in­ tellect rather than activity of will, and the l ike. However, expecting no reply to th is, I pass on to explain, as promised, what l ife is.

[To what things life can be attributed. ] Although this term is often taken in a fig­ urative sense to mean the character of a man, we shall briefly explain only what it denotes in a philosophical sense. It should be noted that ifl ife is also to be attrib­ uted to corporeal things, nothing will be devoid of l ife; but if only to those things wherein soul is united to body, then it must be attributed only to men, and perhaps also to animals, but not to minds or to God. However, because the word 'life' is commonly used in a wider sense, there is no doubt that it should also be attributed to corporeal things not united to minds and to minds separated from body.

[What life is, and what it is in God.] Therefore by l ife we for our part under­ stand the force through which things persevere in their own being. And because that force is different from the things themselves, we quite properly say that things themselves have l ife. But the force whereby God perseveres in h is own being is nothing but his essence, so that those speak best who call God 1 ife.' There are some theologians who hold the opinion that it is for th is reason - that God is l ife and is not distinct from life- that the Jews when they swore an oath used to say "by the l iving Jehovah," and not "by the l ife of Jehovah;' as Joseph, when swear­ ing by Pharaoh's l ife, said "by the l ife of Pharaoh."B

Chapter 7 DrGod's Intellect9

[God is omniscient.] We previously listed among the attributes of God omnis­ cience, which quite obviously perta ins to God because knowledge impl ies per­ fection, and God, as a most perfect being, must not lack any perfection. Therefore

7 [ThIS is probably a reference to Metaphysics XII . VII ( 1072b27-29).] 8 [The reference IS to GenesIs 42. 1 5-16. ]

9 [ From what IS demonstrated I n the next three chapters In which we treat of God's mtellect, hiS will

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knowledge must be attributed to God in the highest degree, that is, a knowledge that does not presume or posit any ignorance or privation of knowledge; for then there would be some imperfection in the attribute itself, that is, in God. From this it follows that God's intellect has never been merely potential, nor does he reach a conclusion by reasoning.

[The objects orGod's knowledge are not things external to God. ] Furthermore, from God's perfection i t also follows that his ideas are not defined, as ours are, by objects that are external to God. On the contrary, the things created by God ex­ ternal to God are determined by God's intellect. (N.B. : From this it clearly fol­ lows that God's intellect, by which he understands created things, and h is will and power, by which he has determined them, are one and the same thing.) For oth­ erwise these objects would have their own nature and essence through themselves and would be prior, at least by nature, to the divine intellect- which is absurd. And because some people have failed to take careful note of this, they have fallen into gross errors. Some have maintained that external to God there is matter, co­ eternal with him and existing of itself, and that God, understanding this matter, has, according to some, merely reduced it to order, and according to others, has in addition impressed forms on it. Others again have maintained that things of their own nature are either necessary or impossible or contingent, and so God knows the latter also as contingent and is quite ignoran t as to whether they exist or not. Finally, others have said that God knows contingent things from their relation to other th ings, perhaps because of his long experience. Besides these er­ rors I could here mention others of th is kind, did I not consider it to be superflu­ ous, because from what has already been said their falsity makes itself apparent.

[The object or God's knowledge is God himself ] Let us therefore return to our theme, that outside God there is no object of his knowledge, but he is himself the object ofh is knowledge, or rather, he is his own knowledge. Those who think that the world is also the object of God's knowledge are much less discerning than those who would maintain that a building constructed by some distinguished ar­ chitect is the object of the arch itect's knowledge. For the builder is forced to seek suitable material outside himself as well, whereas God has not sought any mate­ rial outside himself. Things have been constructed by his intellect or will, both with regard to their essence and their existence.

[How God knows sin, entities or reason, etc. ] The question now arises as to whether God knows evil or sin, entities of reason, and th ings of that kind. We re-

and his power, it follows quite clearly that the essences of things and the necessity of thetr eXistIng from a given cause IS nothing other than God's deterIIDnate will or decree. Therefore God's will is most apparent to us when we conceive things clearly and dtsttnctly. So It IS ndiculous that phtloso­ phers, when they are ignorant of the causes of things, take refuge in the Will of God. We constantly see thiS happening when they say that the thmgs whose causes are unknown to them have come about only from God's good pleasure and absolute decree. The common people, too, have found no stronger proof of God's providence and guidance than that WhiCh they draw from their ignorance of causes. This clearly shows that they have no knowledge whatever of the nature of God's will, at· tributing to him a human will that is truly quite dIStinct from our mtellect. This I conSider to have been the basic cause ofsuperstttion, and perhaps of rrruch roguery - P.B.]

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chapter 7 1 99

ply that God must necessarily know those things of which he is the cause, espe­ cially so because they cannot exist even for a moment except with the divine con­ currence. Therefore, because evil and sin have no being in things but only in the human mind when it compares th ings with one another, it follows that God does not know them as separate from human minds. Entities of reason we have said to be modes of th inking, and it is in th is way that they must be understood by God, that is, insofar as we perceive him as preserving and continuing to create the hu­ man mind, in whatever way that is constituted. But we are not saying that God has such modes of thinking in h imself in order that he may more easily retain what he understands. And if only proper attention is given to these few poin ts we have made, no problem can arise concerning God's intellect that cannot quite easily be solved.

[How God knows particular things, and how universals. ] But meanwhile we must not pass over the error made by certain people who maintain that God knows nothing but eternal things such as angels and the heavens, which they suppose to be by their own nature not subject to generation and corruption, but that of th is world he knows nothing but species, these being likewise not subject to genera­ tion and corruption. Such people do indeed seem set on going astray, contriving utter absurdities. For what can be more absurd than to cut off God's knowledge from particular things, which cannot even for a moment be without God's con­ currence? Again, they are maintaining that God is ignorant of really existing things, while ascribing to God knowledge of universals, which have no being nor any essence apart from that of particular things. We, on the other hand, attribute to God knowledge of particular things and deny him knowledge of universals ex­ cept insofar as he understands human minds.

[In God there is only one simple idea. ] Finally, before bringing th is discussion to a close, we ought to deal with the question as to whether there is in God more than one idea or only one most simple idea. To this I reply that God's idea through which he is called omniscient is unique and completely Simple. For in actual fact God is called omniscient for no other reason than that he has the idea of himself, an idea or knowledge that has always existed together with God. For it is nothing but h is essence and could have had no other way of being.

[What is God's knowledge concerning created things.] But God's acquaintance with created th ings cannot be referred to God's knowledge without some impro­ priety; for, if God had so willed, created things would have had a quite different essence, and this could have no place in the knowledge that God has of himself. Still, the question will arise as to whether that knowledge of created things, prop­ erly or improperly so termed, is manifold or only s ingle. However, in reply, this question differs in no way from those that ask whether God's decrees and volitions are several or not, and whether God's omnipresence, or the concurrence whereby he preserves particular th ings, is the same in all things. Conceming these matters, we have already said that we can have no distinct knowledge. However, we know with certa inty that, just as God's concurrence, if it is referred to God's omnipo­ tence, must be no more than one although manifested in various ways in its effects, so too God's vol itions and decrees (for thus we may term h is knowledge

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concerning created things) considered in God are not a plural ity, even though they are expressed in various ways through created things, or rather, in created things. Finally, if we look to the whole of Nature by analogy, we can consider it as a s ingle entity, and consequently the idea of God, or h is decree concerning Natura naturata, will be only one.

Chapter 8 Of God's Will

[We do not know how God's essence, his intellect by which he understands himself. and his will by which he loves himself. are distinguished. ] God's will, by wh ich he wills to love himself, follows necessarily from h is infinite intellect, by which he understands h imself, but how these three are distinguished from one another­ his essence, his intellect by which he understands himself, and h is will by which he wills to love himself- th is we fail to comprehend. We are acquainted with the word 'personality', which theologians commonly use to explain th is matter. But although we know the word, we do not know its meaning, nor can we form any clear and distinct conception of it, although we firmly believe that in the most blessed vision of God, which is promised to the faithful, God will reveal th is to his own.

[God's will and power, as externally manifested, are not distinguished from his intellect. ] Will and power, as externally manifested, are not distinguished from God's intellect, as is now well established from what has preceded. For we have shown that God has decreed not only that things should exist, but also that they should exist with a certa in nature; that is to say, both their essence and existence must have depended on God's will and power. From this we clearly and distinctly perceive that God's intellect and h is power and will, whereby he has created, un­ derstood, and preserves or loves created things, are in no way distinct from one another save only in respect of our thought.

[It is improper to say that God hates some things and loves other things. ] Now when we say that God hates some things and loves other things, th is is sa id in the same sense as when Scripture tells us that the earth will vomit forth men, and other things of that kind. But from Scripture itself i t can be sufficiently inferred that God is not angry with anyone, and that he does not love things in the way that is commonly believed. For th is is in Isaiah, and more clearly in Paul's Epis­ tle to the Romans, Chapter 9: "For the children being not yet born (that is, the sons of Isaac), neither having done any good or evil, that the purpose of God ac­ cording to election might stand, not of works but of him that calleth, it was said unto her, the elder shall serve the younger, etc ." l0 And a l ittle farther on, "There­ fore hath he mercy on whom he will, and whom he will he hardeneth. Thou wilt

1 0 [Romans 9 · 1 1- 12 j

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chapter 9 20 I

then say unto me, 'Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted h is will?' Nay but, 0 man, who art thou that replieth against God? Shall the thing formed say unto him who formed it, 'Why has thou made me thus?' Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honor, and an­ other unto dishonor? etc," l l

[Why God admonishes men, why he does not save without admonition, and why the impious are punished.] If you now ask why, then, does God admonish men, to this there is a ready answer: The reason why God has decreed from eternity that he would warn men at a particular time is this, that those whom he has willed to be saved might turn from their ways. If you go on to ask whether God could not have saved them without that warning, we reply that he could have done so. "Why then does he not so save them?" you will perhaps again ask. To th is I shall reply when you have told me why God did not make the Red Sea passable without a strong east wind, and why he does not bring about all particular motions without other motions, and innumerable other things that God does through mediating causes. You will again ask, why then are the impious punished, since they act by their own nature and in accordance with the divine decree. But I reply, it is also as a result of the divine decree that they are punished. And if only those ought to be punished whom we suppose to be sinning from free will alone, why do men try to destroy poisonous snakes? For they sin only from their own natu re, and can do no other.

[Scripture teaches nothing that is opposed to the natural light. ] Finally, what­ ever other passages there are in Holy Scripture that cause uneasiness, this is not the place to explain them. For here the object of our enquiry is confined to what can be attained most certainly by natural reason, and to demonstrate these things clearly is sufficient to convince us that the Holy Book must be teaching the same. For truth is not opposed to truth, nor can Scripture be teaching the nonsense that is commonly supposed. If we were to find in i t anyth ing contrary to the natural l ight, we could refute it with the same freedom with which we refute the Koran and the Talmud. But far be it from us to think that something can be found in Holy Scripture opposed to the l ight of Nature.

Chapter 9 Of God's Power

[How God's omnipotence should be understood. ] That God is omnipotent has al­ ready been suffiCiently demonstrated. Here we shall attempt only to explain in brief how this attribute is to be understood; for many speak of it without proper piety and not according to truth. They say that, by their own nature and not from God's decree, some things are possible, some things impossible, and some things necessary, and that God's omnipotence is concemed only with the possible. We,

I I [Romans 9 ' 18-2 1 ]

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however, who have already shown that all things depend absolutely on God's de­ cree, say that God is omnipotent. But having understood that he has decreed some things from the mere freedom of h is will, and then that he is immutable, we say now that he cannot act against his own decrees, and that th is is impossible s imply because i t is at variance with God's perfection.

[All things are necessary with respect to God's decree. It is wrong to say that some things are necessary in themselves, and other things with respect to his decree. ] But perhaps someone will argue that some things we find necessary only wh ile hav­ ing regard for God's decree, while on the other hand some things we find neces­ sary without regard for God's decree. Take, for example, that Josiah bumed the bones of the idolaters on the altar of Jeroboam. 12 If we attend only to Josiah's wil l , we shall regard the event as a possible one, and in no way having necessarily to happen except from the prophet's having predicted it from God's decree. But that the three angles of a triangle must be equal to two right angles is someth ing that manifests itself.

But surely these people are inventing distinctions in th ings from their own ig­ norance. For if men clearly understood the whole order of Nature, they would find all things to be equally as necessary as are the things treated in mathematics. But because this is beyond the reach of human knowledge, certain things are judged by us as possible and not as necessary. Therefore we must say either that God is powerless-because all things are in actual fact necessary- or that God is all-powerful, and that the necessity we find in things has resulted solely from God's decree.

[If God had made the nature of things other than it is, he would also have had to give us a different intellect. ] Suppose the question is now raised: What if God had decreed things otherwise and had rendered false those things that are now true? Would we still not accept them as quite true? I answer, yes indeed, if God had left us with the nature that he has given us. But he might then, had he so wished, have also given us a natu re-as is now the case-such as to enable us to understand Nature and its laws, as they would have been laid down by God. In­ deed, if we have regard to his fa ithfulness, he would have had to do so. Th is is also evident from the fact, as we have previously stated, that the whole of Natura nat­ urata is nothing but a unique entity, from which i t follows that man is a part of Nature that must cohere with the rest. Therefore from the simpl icity of God's de­ cree it would also follow that if God had created things in a different way, he would l ikewise have also so constituted our nature that we could understand things as they had been created by God. So although we want to retain the same distinc­ tion in God's power as is commonly adopted by philosophell>, we are nevertheless constrained to expound it in a different way.

[The divisions of Gad's power-absolute, ordered, ordinary, and extraordinary. ] We therefore divide God's power into Ordered and Absolute. We speak of God's absolu te power when we consider h is omnipotence without regard to his decrees. We speak of h is ordered power when we have regard to h is decrees.

1 2 [ I Kings 1 3 , 2; 2 Kings 23 ' 16, 20 I

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chaptsr /0 203

Then there is a further division into the Ordinary and Extraordinary power of God. His ordinary power is that by which he preserves the world in a fixed order. We mean his extraordinary power when he acts beyond Nature's orders-for ex­ ample, all miracles, such as the ass speaking, the appearance of angels, and the l ike. 13 Yet concerning this latter power we may not unreasonably entertain seri­ ous doubts, because for God to govern the world with one and the same fixed and immutable order seems a greater miracle than if, because of the folly of mankind, he were to abrogate laws that he himself has sanctioned in Nature in the best way and from pure freedom -as nobody can deny unless he is quite blinded. But we shall leave this for the theologians to decide.

Finally, we pass over other questions commonly raised concerning God's power: Does God's power extend to the past? Can he improve on the things that he does? Can he do many other things than he has done? Answers to these ques­ tions can readily be suppl ied from what has already been said.

Chapter 1 0 O{Creation

That God is the creator of all things we have already established; here we shall now try to explain what is to be understood by creation . Then we shall provide so­ lutions as best we can to those questions that are commonly raised regarding cre­ ation. Let us then begin with the first subject.

[What creation is. ] We say that creation is an operation in which no causes con­ cur beyond the efficient cause; or that a created thing is that which presupposes nothing except God for its existence.

[The common definition of creation is reiected. ] Here we should note that: I . We omit the words 'from nothing', which are commonly used by philosophers as if 'noth ing' were the matter from which things were produced. This usage of theirs arises from the fact that, being accustomed in the case of generated things to suppose something prior to them from which they are made, in the case of cre­ ation they were unable to omit the preposition 'from'. The same confusion has befallen them in the case of matter. Seeing that all bodies are in a place and sur­ rounded by other bodies, when they asked themselves where matter as a whole might be, they replied, "In some imaginary space." So there is no doubt that they have not considered 'noth ing' as the negation of all reality but have imagined or pictured it as something real.

[OUT own definition is explained. ] 2. I say that in creation no other causes con­ cur beyond the efficient cause. I might indeed have said that creation denies or excludes all causes beyond the efficient cause. However, I have preferred to say 'concur' so as to avoid having to reply to those who ask whether God in creation did not set before himself an end on account of which he created things. Fur-

" [Numbers ZH8-l l . ]

204 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

thermore, for better explanation, I have added this second definition, that a cre­ ated thing presupposes nothing but God; because if God did set before himself some end, then obviously that end was not extemal to God. For there is nothing extemal to God by which he may be urged to act.

[Accidents and Modes are not created. ] 3 . From this definition i t clearly follows that there is no creation of accidents and modes. For these presuppose a created substance besides God.

[There was no time or duration before creation . ] 4. Finally, neither time nor du­ ration can be imagined before creation; these began along with things. For time is the measure of duration; or rather, i t is noth ing but a mode of th inking. There­ fore it presupposes not j ust some created thing, but, in particular, thinking men. As for duration, it ceases when created things cease to be and begins when cre­ ated things begin to exist -created things, I say, because we have already shown beyond doubt that to God there pertains not duration but eternity. Therefore du­ ration presupposes, or at least posits, created things. Those who imagine duration and time prior to created things labor under the same misconception as those who suppose a space outside matter, as is self-evident. So much for the definition of creation.

[God's action is the same in creating the world and in preserving it. ] Again, there is no need for us to repeat here what we have demonstrated in Axiom 10 Part I , namely, that the same amount o f force is required for the creation of a th ing as for its preservation; that is, God's action in creating the world is the same as in its preservation.

Having noted these points, let us proceed to what we promised in the second place. First, we must ask what is created and what is uncreated; and second, whether what is created could have been created from etemity.

[What created things are.] To the first question we reply, in brief, that the cre­ ated is every th ing whose essence is clearly conceived without any existence, and which is nevertheless conceived through itself: for example, matter, of which we have a clear and distinct conception when we conceive it under the attribute of extension, and which we conceive just as clearly and distinctly whether it exists ar not.

[How God's thought differs from ours. ] But perhaps someone will say that we perceive thought clearly and distinctly without existence, and that we neverthe­ less attribute it to God. To this we reply that we do not attribute to God such thought as is ours, subject to being acted on and confined by the natu re of th ings, but such as is pure activity and thus involving existence, as we have already demonstrated at sufficient length. For we showed that God's intellect and will are not distinct from h is power and his essence, which involves existence.

[There is not something external to God and caetemal with him. ] So because every th ing whose essence does not involve existence must, in order to exist, nec­ essarily be created by God and be con tinuously preserved by the creator as we have already abundantly explained, we shall spend no time in refuting the opin­ ion of those who have maintained that the world, or chaos, or matter stripped of all form, is coetemal with God and thus independent of him. Therefore we must

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chaptsr /0 205

pass on to the second question and enquire whether what has been created could have been created from eternity.

[What is here denoted by the phrase 'from eternity'.] For this to be rightly un­ derstood, we must examine th is phrase 'from eternity', for by this we here mean something entirely different from that wh ich we explained previously when we spoke of God's eternity. Here we rnean nothing other than duration without any beginning, or such duration as, even if we were to mul tiply it by many years or tens of thousands of years, and this product again by tens of thousands, we could still never express by any number, however great.

[Proof that there could not have been something created from eternity. ] But that there can be no such duration is clearly demonstrated. For if the world were to go backward again from this point of tirne, it could never have such a duration; there­ fore neither could the world have reached this point of tirne frorn such a begin­ ning. You will perhaps say that for God nothing is impossible; for he is omnipotent, and so can bring about a duration other than which there could be no greater. We reply that God, being omnipotent, will never create a duration other than which a greater cannot be created by h im . For the nature of duration is such thata greater or lesser than a given duration can always be conceived, as is the case with num­ ber. You will perhaps insist that God has been from eternity and so has endured until the present, and thus there is a duration other than which a greater cannot be conceived. But in th is way there is attributed to God a duration consisting of paris, which we have abundantly refuted when we demonstrated that there per­ tains to God not duration, but eternity. Would that men had thoroughly consid­ ered this truth, for then they might very easily have extricated thernselves frorn many argumenls and absurdities, and have given themselves up with the greatest deligh t to the blessed contemplation of th is being.

But let us proceed to answer the argumenls put forward by certa in people, whereby they try to show the possibil ity of such an infinite duration stretching from the past.

[From the fact that God is erernal, it does not follow that his effects can also be from eternity. ] First, then, they assert that the thing produced can be contempora­ neous with ils cause; but because God has been from eternity then h is effecls could also have been produced from eternity. And then they further confirm this by the example of the son of God, who was produced by the father from eternity. But from what has already been said, one can clearly see that they are confusing duration with eternity, and they are attributing to God merely a duration from eternity, as is also clear from the example they cite. For they hold that the same eternity that they ascribe to the son of God is possible for creatures. Again, they imagine time and duration as prior to the foundation of the world, and they seek to establish a dura­ tion without created things, just as others seek to establish an eternity oUlside God. Both these assertions are already shown to be quite remote from the truth . There­ fore we reply that it is quite false that God can communicate his eternity to his crea­ tures, nor is the son of God a creature, but he is, l ike his father, eternal. So when we say that the father has begotten the son from eternity, we mean simply this, that the father has always communicated his eternity to the son.

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[If God acted necessarily, he would not be of infinite potency. ] Secondly, they argue that, when God acts freely, he is no less powerful than when he acts neces­ sarily; but if God acts necessarily, being of infinite potency he must have created the world from eternity. But th is argument, too, can be readily met if we examine its basis. These good people suppose that they can entertain qu ite different ideas of a being of infinite potency. For they conceive God as of infinite potency both when he acts from the necessity of nature and when he acts freely. We, however, deny that God would be of infinite potency if he were to act from the necessity of nature; and this we may well deny-and indeed they have also necessarily to con­ cede it- now that we have demonstrated that the most perfect being acts freely and can be conceived only as unique. Now if they retort that, even if it is impos­ sible it can nevertheless be posited that God, in acting from the necessity of na­ ture, is of infinite potency, we reply that it is no more permissible to suppose this than to suppose a square circle so as to conclude that all the l ines from the cen­ ter to the circumference are not equal. Not to repeat what we said at an earl ier stage, this is well established from what we have just said. For we have just demon­ strated that there can be no duration whose double, or whose greater or lesser, cannot be conceived, and therefore a greater or lesser than a given duration can always be created by God, who acts freely with infinite potency. But if God were to act from the necessity of nature, this would in no way follow, for only that du­ ration, which resulted from his nature, could be produced by him, not an infinite number of other durations greater than the given .

Therefore we thus argue in brief; if God were to create the greatest duration , one so great that he could not create one greater, he would necessarily be dimin­ ish ing his own power. But this latter statement is false, for his power does not dif­ fer from h is essence; therefore, etc. Again, if God were to act from the necessity of nature, he would have to create a duration such that he h imself cannot create a greater. But God, in creating such a duration , is not of infinite potency, for we can always conceive a duration greater than the given. Therefore if God acted from the necessity of nature, he would not be of infinite potency.

[Whence we hcrve the concept of a duration greater than that which belongs to this world. ] At this point someone may find some difficulty in seeing how, since the world was created five thousand years ago (or more, if the calculations of chronologers are correct), we can nevertheless conceive a greater duration, which we have asserted is not intelligible without created things. This difficulty will be easily removed if he takes note that we understand that duration not simply from the contemplation of created things but from the contemplation of the infinite power of God for creation. For creatures cannot be conceived as existing and hav­ ing duration through themselves, but only through the infinite power of God, from which alone they have all their duration. See Prop. 1 2 Part I and its Corollary.

Finally, to waste no time here in answering trivial arguments, these points only are to be noted: the distinction between duration and eternity, and that duration is in no way intell igible without created things, nor eternity without God. When these points have been properly perceived, all arguments can very readily be an­ swered; so we think i t unnecessary to spend any more time on these matters.

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chaptsr I I 207

Chapter 1 1 Of God's Concurrence

Little or nothing remains to be said about this attribute, now that we have shown that God continuously creates a th ing as if anew at every moment. From this we have demonstrated that things never have any power from themselves to affect anything or to determine themselves to any action, and that this is the case not only with things outside man but also with the human wil l . Again, we have also repl ied to certain argumen ts concerning this matter; and although many other ar­ guments are frequently produced, I here intend to ignore them, as they princi­ pally belong to theology.

However, there are many who, accepting God's concurrence, interpret it in a sense quite at variance with what we have expounded. To expose their fallacy in the simplest way, it should here be noted, as has previously been demonstrated, that present time has no connection with future time (see Ax. 10 Part I ) , and that this is clearly and distinctly perceived by us. If only proper attention is paid to th is, all their arguments, which may be drawn from philosophy, can be answered with­ out any difficulty.

[How God's (Jreservation is related to his determining things to act. ] Still, so as not to have touched on this problem without profit, we shall in passing reply to the question as to whether something is added to God's preservation when he deter­ mines a thing to act. Now when we spoke about motion, we already hinted at the answer to this question. For we said that God preserves the same quantity of mo­ tion in Nature; therefore if we consider the nature of matter in its entirety, noth­ ing new is added to i t. But with respect to particular things, in a sense it can be said that something new is added to it. Whether this is also the case with spiritual things is unclear, for it is not obvious that they have such mutual interdependence. Fi­ nally, because the parts of duration have no interconnection, we can say that God does not so much preserve things as continue to create them. Therefore, if a man has now a determinate freedom to perform an action, it must be said that God has created him thus at that particular time. Nor can it be objected that the human will is often determined by things external to itself, and that all things in Nature are in turn determined to action by one another; for they are also thus determined by God. No thing can determine the will, nor aga in can the will be determined, except by the power of God alone. But how this is compatible with human free­ dom, or how God can bring this about while preserving human freedom, we con­ fess we do not know, as we have already remarked on many occasions.

[The common division of God's attributes is nominal rather than real. ] This, then, I was resolved to say about the attributes of God, having as yet made no di­ vision of them. The division generally given by writers, whereby they divide God's attributes into the incommunicable and the communicable, to speak the truth , seems a nominal rather than a real division. For God's knowledge i s no more l ike human knowledge than the Dog, the constellation in the sky, is l ike the dog, the barking animal, and perhaps even less so.

208 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

[The Author's own division. ] Our division, however, is as follows. There are some of God's attributes that explicate his essence in action, whereas others, un­ concerned with action, set forth the manner of his existing. Of the latter kind are unity, eternity, necessity, etc . : of the former kind are understanding, will, life, om­ nipotence, etc . This division is quite clear and straightforward and includes all God's attributes.

Chapter 1 2 Of the Human Mind

We must now pass on to created substance, which we have divided into extended and th inking substance. By extended substance we understood matter or corpo­ real substance; by thinking substance we understood only human minds.

[Angels are a sub;ect for theology, not metaphysics. ] Although Angels have also been created, yet, because they are not known by the natural l ight, they are not the concern of metaphysics. For their essence and existence are known only through revelation, and so pertain solely to theology; and because theological knowledge is completely other than, or en tirely different in kind from, natural knowledge, it should in no way be confused with it. So let nobody expect us to say anything about angels.

[The human mind does not derive from something else, but is created by God. Yet we do not know when it is created. ] Let us then return to human minds, con­ cerning which few things now remain to be said. Only I must remind you that we have said noth ing about the time of the creation of the human mind because it is not sufficiently established at what time God creates i t, because it can exist with­ out body. This much is clear, that it does not derive from something else, for this applies only to things that are generated, namely, the modes of some substance. Substance itself cannot be generated, but can be created only by the Omnipotent, as we have sufficiently demonstrated in what has gone before.

[In what sense the human soul is mortal. ] But to add something about its im­ mortal ity, it is quite evident that we cannot say of any created th ing that its nature implies that it cannot be destroyed by God's power; for he who has the power to create a thing has also the power to destroy it. Furthermore, as we have sufficiently demonstrated, no created thing can exist even for a moment by its own nature, but is continuously created by God.

[In what sense the human soul is immortal. ] Yet, although the matter stands so, we clearly and distinctly see that we have no idea by which we may conceive that substance is destroyed, in the way that we do have ideas of the corruption and gen­ eration of modes. For when we contemplate the structure of the human body, we clearly conceive that such a structure can be destroyed; but when we contemplate corporeal substance, we do not equally conceive that i t can be reduced to nothing.

Finally, a philosopher does not ask what God can do from the full extent ofhis power; he j udges the nature of things from those laws that God has imparted to

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chaptsr 12 209

them. So he judges to be fixed and sure what is inferred from those laws to be fixed and sure, while not denying that God can change those laws and all other th ings. Therefore we too do not enquire, when speaking of the soul, wha t God can do, but only what follows from the laws of Nature.

[Its immortality is demonstrated. ] Now because i t clearly follows from these laws that substance can be destroyed neither through itself nor through some other created substance-as we have abundantly demonstrated over and over again, unless I am mistaken - we are constrained to maintain from the laws ofNa­ ture that the mind is immortal . And if we look into the matter even more closely, we can demonstrate with the greatest certainty that i t is immortal. For, as we have j ust demonstrated, the immortal ity of the soul clearly follows from the laws ofNa­ ture. Now those laws of Nature are God's decrees revealed by the natural l ight, as is also clearly established from the preceding. Then again, we have also demon­ strated that God's decrees are immutable. From all this we clearly conclude that God has made known to men his immutable will concerning the duration of souls not only by revelation but also by the natural l ight.

[God acts not against Nature but above Nature. How the Author interprets this. ] Nor does it matter if someone objects that God sometimes destroys those natural laws in order to perform miracles. For most of the wiser theologians concede that God never acts contrary to Nature, but above Nature. That is, as I understand it, God has also many laws of operating that he has not communicated to the human intellect; and if they had been communicated to the human intellect, they would be as natural as the rest.

Hence it is quite clearly established that minds are immortal , nor do I see what remains to be said at this point about the human soul in general. Nor yet would anything remain to be said about its specific functioning, if the arguments of cer­ tain writers, trying to make out that they do not see and sense what in fact they do see and sense, did not call upon me to reply to them.

[Why some think the will is not {ree. ] Some th ink they can show that the will is not free but is always determined by something else. And this they think because they understand by will someth ing distinct from soul , someth ing they look on as a substance whose nature consists solely in being indifferent. To remove all con­ fusion, we shall first expl icate the matter, and when this is done we shall easily ex­ pose the fallacies in their arguments.

[What the will is. ] We have said that the human mind is a th inking thing. From this it follows that, merely from its own nature and considered only in itself, i t can do someth ing, to wit, think, that is, affirm and deny. Now these thoughts are ei­ ther determined by things external to the mind or by the mind alone, because it is itself a substance from whose th inking essence many acts of thought can and must follow. Those acts of thought that acknowledge no other cause of themselves than the human mind are called vol i tions. The human mind, insofar as it is con­ ceived as a sufficient cause for producing such acts, is called the will.

[There is will.] That the soul possesses such a power, although not determined by any external things, can most conveniently be explicated by the example of Buridan's ass. For if we suppose that a man instead of an ass is placed in such a

2 1 0 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

state of equ il ibrium, he would have to be considered a most shameful ass, and not a th inking thing, if he were to perish of hunger and thirst. Again, the same con­ clusion is evident from the fact that, as we previously sa id, we even willed to doubt all th ings, and not merely to regard as doubtful but to reject as false those things that can be called into doubt. See Descartes's Princip. Part I Art. 39.

[The will is free.] It should further be noted that although the soul is determined by external things to affirm or deny something, it is nevertheless not so determined as if it were constra ined by the external th ings, but always remains free. For no thing has the power to destroy i ts essence, and therefore what it affirms or denies, i t always affirms or denies freely, as is well expla ined in the "Fourth Meditation." So if anyone asks why the soul wills or does not will this or that, we reply that it is because the soul is a th inking thing, that is, a thing that of its own nature has the power to will and not will, to affirm and deny. For that is what it is to be a think­ ing thing.

[The will should not be confused with appetite. ] Now that these matters have been thus explained, let us look at our opponents' arguments.

I. The first argument is as follows. "If the will can will what is contrary to the final pronouncement of the intellect, if it can want what is contrary to its good as prescribed by the final pronouncement of the intellect, then it will be able to want what is bad for it as such. But this latter is absurd; therefore so is the former." From this argument one can clearly see that they do not understand what the will is. For they are confusing it with the appetite that the soul has when it has affirmed or denied something; and this they have learned from their Master, who defined the will as appetite for what is presented as good. 14 But we say that the will is the af­ firming that such-and-such is good, or the contrary, as we have already abundantly expla ined in our previous discussion concerning the cause of error, which we have shown to arise from the fact that the will extends more widely than the intellect. Now if the mind had not affirmed from its very freedom that such-and-such is good, it would not want anything. Therefore we reply to the argument by grant­ ing that the mind cannot will anything contrary to the final pronouncement of the intellect; that is, the mind cannot will anything insornr as it is supposed not to will i t-for that is what is here supposed when the mind is said to have j udged something to be bad for it, that is, not to have willed it. But we deny that it ab­ solutely cannot have willed that which is bad for i t, that is, cannot have j udged it to be good; for that would be contrary to experience. We judge many things that are bad to be good, and on the other hand many th ings that are good to be bad.

[The will is nothing other than the mind. ] 2. The second argument - or, if you prefer, the first, for so far there has been none- is as follows: "If the will is not de­ termined to will by the final j udgment of the practical intellect, it therefore will determine itself. But the will does not determine itself, because of itself and by its own nature i t is undetermined." From th is they go on to argue as follows: "If the will is of itself and by its own nature uncommitted to willing and not willing, it

1 4 [Their "Master" IS, of course, ArIStotle see Rhetoric 1369a l--4, De Anima 433a2 1-433b5 . J

Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts, Part 2, Chaptsr 12 2 1 1

cannot be determined by itself to will. For that which determines must be as much determined as that which it determines is undetermined. But the will considered as determining itself is as much undetermined as is the same will considered as that which is to be determined. For our opponents suppose nothing in the deter­ mining will that is not l ikewise in the will that is either to be determined or that has been determined; nor indeed is it possible for anything to be here supposed. Therefore the will cannot be determined by itself to will. And if it cannot be de­ termined by itself, it must be determined by something else."

These are the very words of Heereboord, Professor of Leiden, by which he clearly shows that by will he understands not the mind itself but someth ing else outside the mind or in the mind, l ike a blank tablet, lacking any thought and ca­ pable of receiving any picture, or rather l ike a balance in a state of equilibrium, which can be pushed in either direction by any weight whatsoever, according to the determination of the additional weight. Or, finally, l ike something that nei­ ther he nor any other mortal can possibly grasp. Now we have just said- indeed, we clearly showed - that the will is nothing but the mind itself, which we call a th inking thing, that is, an affirming and denying thing. And so, when we look only to the nature of mind, we clearly infer that it has an equal power to affirm and to deny; for that, I say, is what i t is to th ink. If therefore, from the fuct that the mind thinks, we infer that it has the power to affirm and deny, why do we seek extrane­ ous causes for the doing of that which follows solely from the nature of the thing?

But, you will say, the mind is not more determined to affirm than to deny, and so you will conclude that we must necessarily seek a cause by which it is deter­ mined. Against th is, I argue that if the mind of itself and by its own nature were determined only to affirm (although it is impossible to conceive this as long as we conceive i t to be a thinking thing), then of i ts own nature alone i t could only af­ firm and never deny, however many causes may concur. But if it be determined neither to affirm nor deny, it will be able to do neither. And finally, if i t has the power to do either, as we have just shown it to have, i t will be able to do either from its own nature alone, unassisted by any other cause. This will be obvious to all those who consider a th inking thing as a th inking thing, that is, who do not separate the attribute of thought from the th inking thing. This is just what our op­ ponents do, stripping the thinking thing of all thought and making i t out to be l ike the prime matter of the Peripatetics.

Therefore I reply to their a rgument as follows, addressing their major premise. If by the will they mean a th ing deprived of all thought, we grant that the will is from i ts own nature undetermined. But we deny that the will is something de­ prived of all thought; on the contrary, we maintain that it is thought, that is, the power both to affirm and to deny; and surely this can mean nothing else than the sufficient cause for both operations. Furthermore, we also deny that if the will were undetermined (i .e . , deprived of all thought), it could be determined by any extraneous cause other than God, through h is infinite power of creation. For to seek to conceive a th inking thing that is without any thought is the same as to seek to conceive an extended thing that is without extension .

2 1 2 Principles of Cartesian Philosophy

[Why philosophers have confused mind with corporeal things. ] Finally, to avoid having to review more arguments here, I merely point out that our opponents, in failing to understand the will and in having no clear and distinct conception of mind, have confused mind with corporeal things. This has arisen for this reason , that the words that they are accustomed to use in referring to corporeal things they have used to denote spiritual things, which they did not understand. For they have been accustomed to apply the word 'undetermined' to those bodies that are in equ ilibrium because they are impelled in opposite directions by equivalent and directly opposed external causes. So when they call the will undetermined, they appear to conceive it also as a body in a state of equil ibrium. And because those bodies have nothing but what they have received from external causes (from which it follows that they must always be determined by an external cause), they think that the same th ing follows in the case of the will. But we have already suf­ ficiently explained how the matter stands, and so we here make an end.

With regard to extended substance, too, we have already sa id enough , and be­ sides these two substances we acknowledge no others. As for real accidents and other qual i ties, they have been disposed of, and there is no need to spend time re­ futing them. So here we lay down our pen.

The End

ETH I C S

Spino;ta prepared to publish the Ethics, the comprehensive account of his philosophical system, in 1 674. The work and its five parts had been completed after over a decade's labor, and after the turmoil of the years since the Short Treatise and the publication of the Principles of Cartesian Ph ilosophy. The time had come but at the advice of friends, Spino;ta felt the danger and the risks too deeply. As he reported to Henry Oldenburg in the fall of 1 675, he was attacked both by theologians and by Cartesians and felt compelled to halt publication (Ep68; see Jonathan Israel, Radical Enl ightenmen� 286-7) . Indeed, the work- one of the classics of Western philosophy-was only finally published in 1 677 after Spino;ta's death, in the Opera Posthuma, edited by his friends and published by Tan Rieuwerts;t. Within a year, on 25 Tune 1 678, it was censored by the States of Holland and West-Friesland as a "profane, atheistic, and blasphemous book."

Some scholars believe that the appendix to the Short Treatise, probably composed in 1 661 or early 1 662, including seven axioms about substance, its attributes, and causality, together with four demonstrations about substance, was already an early version of the mathematically, geometrically organi;ted content of the first book of the Ethics. By late 1 662 or early 1 663, with Spino:za in Rijnsburg, his Amsterdam friends had a copy of an early chapter of Part I "On God." Pieter Balling had delivered it to Simon de Vries, and it soon became the topic of meetings in Amsterdam where it was read and discussed. On and of{, then, {rom 1 661 to 1 674, Spino;ta worked on the Ethics, his magnum opus, paying the promissory note made in the TIE and setting out the details of his philosophical account of nature, mind, and the good life.

By Tune 1 665, Spino;ta seems to have had a complete draft in hand, a work of three parts, most likely following the design of the Short Treatise- "on God, man, and his well-being." Eventually, by 1 675, of course, the Ethics had been revised and expanded, taking on its now famous five-part structure-on God, humankind and human epistemology, the passions, human bondage to the passions, and rational freedom. A Tune 1 665 letter to Tohan Bouwmeester, an Amsterdam friend and associate of Lodewi;k Meyer, suggests that the original Part III was nearly complete and ready to be translated {rom Latin into Dutch, perhaps by Bouwmeester himself (Ep28). This third part contained much of what is found in Parts IV and V of the version we now have. Hence, by the time Spino;ta turned, that autumn of 1 665, to the Theological-Political Treatise, his system was complete.

2 1 3

2 14 Ethics

A remarkable work it was. The Ethics's five parts famCYUSly lay out a system in the style of Euclid's geometry-starting from definitions and axioms and working through theorems or propositions with corollaries, notes or scholia, appendices, and more. The axiomatic style mirrors the system's rationality and exemplifies the way knowledge should be grasped. As the system proceeds from metaphysics through its account of human nature, knowledge, and emotion, to its understanding of human flaws and aspirations, and finally to the ethical goal of human life (a life of freedom and understanding), the work both grounds itself and motivates its readers to conduct their lives according to the best conception of what human life can and should be. In short, Spinoza's magnum opus earns its title.

The book's contents are, in broad terms, well known. Spinoza's is an early modem naturalism, a set of principles underlying a rational, scientific view of religion, nature, psychology, and ethics. In Part I he defines crucial terms such as substance, attribute, mode, eternity, and God. He demonstrates that only one substance, with infinite attributes, exists; it does so necessarily, and every mode that follows from it occurs with precise and necessary determination. This one eternal, necessary, determinate substance is God, and hence nature or the natural world is either identical to it or to certain ways of understanding it. Modes of substance are not properties of substance, as in classical philosophy, but rather things in the world existing in precise states or ways. Modes are manifestations of substance and its attributes, which might be thought of as regulative natural forces.

In Part II, Spinoza introduces the two attributes by which we understand substance and in terms of which substance is manifest to our experience-thought and extension- and builds an account of the mental and physical dimensions of nature. This account leads to a set of propositions about human experience and cognition and, in Part III, of human emotions, feelings, and more, all as the psychological correlates of physical states of the human body. The causal structure of physical bodies, determined by their proportion of motion and rest, and influenced by the lawful interactions of bodies, is correlated with mental states, some cognitive, others affective, in all of nature and in particular in the minds of human beings. Spinoza's psychology is grounded in his physics and in the conception of conatus, the striving of each being to persevere and to manifest its essence; here is the dynamic element in Spinoza's vitalistic conception of nature. In human beings, the conatus takes on certain predictable psychological features. Ultimately, people seek to satisfy desires, feel ;oy and pleasure, and enhance their well-being, and these goals require increasing harmonious activity within nature and the diminishing of the possions, which mark a person's subordination to beings external to it and failure to satisfy its own preservation. This goal requires as complete and perfect a knowledge of nature as one can attain, a knowledge that corresponds in the mind to the maximizing of life­ enhancing physical states on the body's part. Later in the Ethics, Spinoza calls this cognitive goal the "intellectual love of God" or "blessedness," and, in the notorious concluding section of Part V; he associates it with the mind's etemality and thereby with the traditional notion of the immortality of the soul.

Ethics 2 1 5

Within the confines of this naturalistic system, Spino;z;a installs some claims that, even in his own dery, became famous and even notorious. He also took some steps that have remained perplexing, if not confusing. Spino;z;a's natural world, for example, is not created, nor does it permit contingency or the existence of miracles. Furthermore, insofar as extension is an attribute of substance, Spino;z;a's God is physically extended; Spino;z;a could be and was charged with a kind of atheistic materialism. His natural world is also wholly determined and without goals or purposes. While Spino;z;a's God is material, human beings- unities of the physical and psychological-are as necessary and determined as God or nature. For this reason, Spino;z;a denies the existence of free will but not the existence of freedom, which he regards as a feature of actions which are active and rational, performed with a minimum of constraint and external coercion. In this sense, moreover, God is the only perfect being and human life an effort of imitatio deL People are free, to the degree that they love God, understand God, and indeed emulate God, but for Spino;z;a these activities and aspirations are no different from seeking to understand nature and to live in harmony with natural law.

There are many obvious outcomes of this ethic of rational self-discipline and peace of mind. One is a life of democratic republicanism in which all citiuns equally collaborare in a lawful society aimed at enhancing the well-being of all rational citi;z;ens and restraining harmful self-interest in behalf of this goal. In his last years Spino;z;a would tum, out of a sense of urgency, to an elaboration of these political implications.

M.L.M.

2 1 6 Ethics

CONTENTS

I. Concerning God

II . Of the Nature and Origin of the Mind

III . Concerning the Origin and Nature of the Emotions

IV. Of Human Bondage, or the Nature of the Emotions

V. Of the Power of the Intellect, or of Human Freedom

D efini ti ons

PART I

CONCERNING GOD

Part I, Axioms 2 1 7

I . B y that which i s self-caused I mean that whose essence involves existence; or that whose nature can be conceived only as existing.

2. A thing is said to be finite in its own kind [in suo geneTe /lnita] when it can be l imited by another thing of the same nature. For example, a body is said to be finite because we can always conceive of another body greater than it. So, too, a thought is l imited by another thought. But body is not limited by thought, nor thought by body.

3 . By substance I mean that which is in itself and is conceived through itself; that is, that the conception of which does not require the conception of another thing from which i t has to be formed.

4. By attribute I mean that which the intellect perceives of substance as con­ stituting its essence.

5. By mode I mean the affections of substance, that is, that which is in some­ thing else and is conceived through something else.

6. By God I mean an absolutely infinite being, that is, substance consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses eternal and infinite essence.

Explication I say "absolutely infinite," not "infinite in its kind." For if a th ing is only infinite in its kind, one may deny that it has infinite attributes. But if a th ing is absolutely infinite, whatever expresses essence and does not involve any nega­ tion belongs to its essence.

7. That thing is said to be free [libeT] which exists solely from the necessity of its own nature, and is determined to action by itself alone. A thing is said to be necessary [necessarius] or rather, constrained [coactus] , if i t is determined by an­ other th ing to exist and to act in a definite and determinate way.

8. By eternity I mean existence itself insofar as i t is conceived as necessarily following solely from the definition of an eternal th ing.

Explication For such existence is conceived as an eternal truth, j ust as is the essence of the th ing, and therefore cannot be explicated through duration or time, even if duration be conceived as without beginning and end.

Axi oms

I. All things that are, are either in themselves or in something else. 2. That which cannot be conceived through another thing must be conceived

through itself.

2 1 8 Ethics

3. From a given determinate cause there necessarily follows an effect; on the other hand, if there be no determinate cause, it is impossible that an effect should follow.

4. The knowledge of an effect depends on, and involves, the knowledge of the cause.

5 . Things which have nothing in common with each other cannot be under­ stood through each other; that is, the conception of the one does not involve the conception of the other.

6. A tme idea must agree with that of which it is the idea [ideatum]. 7. If a th ing can be conceived as not existing, its essence does not involve

existence.

PROPOSITION 1 Substance is by nature prior to its affections.

Proof This is evident from Defs. 3 and 5 .

PROPOSITION 2 Two substances having different attributes have nothing in common.

Proof This too is evident from DeE 3; for each substance must be in itself and be conceived through itself; that is, the conception of the one does not involve the conception of the other.

PROPOSITION 3 When things have nothing in common, one cannot be the cause of the other.

Proof If things have nothing in common, then (Ax. 5) they cannot be under­ stood through one another, and so (Ax. 4) one cannot be the cause of the other.

PROPOSITION 4 Two or more distinct things are distinguished from one another either by the differ­ ence of the attributes of the substances or by the difference of the affections of the substances.

Proof All things that are, are either in themselves or in something else (Ax. I ) ; that is (Defs. 3 and 5) , nothing exists external to the intellect except substances and their affections. Therefore, there can be nothing external to the intellect through which several things can be distingu ished from one another except sub­ stances or (which is the same thing) (DeE 4) the attributes and the affections of substances.

PROPOSITION 5 In the universe there cannot be two or more substances of the same nature or at­ tribute.

Proof If there were several such distinct substances, they would have to be dis­ tingUished from one another either by a difference of attributes or by a difference

Part I, Proposition 8 2 1 9

o f affections (Pr, 4). If they are distinguished only by a difference of attributes, then it will be gran ted that there cannot be more than one substance of the same at­ tribu te. But if they are distinguished by a difference of affections, then, since substance is by nature prior to its affections (Pr. I) , disregarding therefore its affections and considering su bstance in itself, that is (Def. 3 and Ax. 6), consid­ ering it truly, it cannot be conceived as distinguishable from another substance. That is (Pr. 4), there cannot be several such substances but only one.

PROPOSITION 6 One substance cannot be produced by another substance.

Proof In the universe there cannot be two substances of the same attribute (Pr. 5 ) , that is (Pr. 2), two substances having someth ing in common. And so (Pr. 3) one cannot be the cause of the other; that is, one cannot be produced by the other.

Corollary Hence it follows that substance cannot be produced by anything else. For in the universe there exists nothing but substances and their affections, as is evident from Ax. I and DefS. 3 and 5. But, by Pro 6, it cannot be produced by an­ other substance. Therefore, substance cannot be produced by anything else what­ soever.

Another Proof This can be proved even more readily by the absurdity of the contradictory. For if substance could be produced by something else, the knowl­ edge of substance would have to depend on the knowledge of its cause (Ax. 4), and so (Def. 3) it would not be substance.

PROPOSITION 7 Existence belongs to the nature of substance.

Proof Substance cannot be produced by anything else (Cor. Pr. 6) and is there­ fore self-caused [causa sui ] ; that is (Def. I ) , its essence necessarily involves exis­ tence; that is, existence belongs to its nature.

PROPOSITION 8 Every substance is necessarily infinite.

Proof There cannot be more than one substance having the same attribute (Pr. 5), and existence belongs to the nature of substance (Pr. 7). I t must therefore exist either as finite or as infinite. But it cannot exist as finite, for (Def. 2) it would have to be l imited by another substance of the same nature, and that substance also would have to exist (Pr. 7). And so there would exist two substances of the same attribute, which is absurd (Pr. 5). Therefore, it exists as infinite.

Scholium 1 Since in fact to be finite is in part a negation and to be infinite is the unqualified affirmation of the existence of some nature, i t follows from Propo­ s ition 7 alone that every substance must be infinite.

Scholium 2 I do not doubt that for those who judge things confusedly and are not accustomed to know things through their primary causes it is difficult to grasp

220 Ethics

the proof of Proposition 7. Surely, this is because they neither distinguish between the modification of substances and substances themselves, nor do they know how things are produced. And so it comes about that they ascribe to substances a be­ ginning which they see natural things as having; for those who do not know the true causes of things confuse everything. Without any hesitation they imagine trees as well as men talking and stones as well as men being formed from seeds; indeed, any forms whatsoever are imagined to change into any other forms. So too, those who confuse the divine nature with human nature easily ascribe to God human emotions, especially so long as they are ignorant of how the latter are pro­ duced in the mind. But if men were to attend to the nature of substance, they would not doubt at all the truth of Proposition 7; indeed, this Proposition would be an axiom to all and would be ranked among universally accepted truisms. For by substance they would understand that which is in itself and is conceived through itself; that is, that the knowledge of which does not require the knowl­ edge of any other th ing. By modifications they would understand that which is in another thing, and whose conception is formed from the thing in which they are. Therefore, in the case of nonexistent modifications we can have true ideas of them since their essence is included in someth ing else, with the result that they can be conceived through that something else, although they do not exist in actual i ty ex­ ternally to the intellect. However, in the case of substances, because they are con­ ceived only through themselves, their truth extemal to the intellect is only in themselves. So if someone were to say that he has a clear and distinct- that is, a true- idea of substance and that he nevertheless doubts whether such a substance exists, this would surely be just the same as ifhe were to declare that he has a true idea but nevertheless suspects that it may be false (as is obvious to anyone who gives his mind to i t) . Or if anyone asserts that substance is created, he at the same time asserts that a false idea has become true, than which noth ing more absurd can be conceived. So it must necessarily be admitted that the existence of sub­ stance is as much an eternal truth as is its essence.

From here we can derive in another way that there cannot be but one [sub­ stance] of the same nature, and I th ink it worthwhile to set out the proof here. Now to do this in an orderly fash ion I ask you to note:

I. The true definition of each thing involves and expresses nothing beyond the nature of the thing defined. Hence it follows that-

2 . No definition involves or expresses a fixed number of individuals, since it expresses nothing but the nature of the thing defined. For example, the definition of a triangle expresses nothing other than simply the nature of a triangle, and not a fixed number of triangles.

3 . For each individual existent th ing there must necessarily be a definite cause for its existence.

4. The cause for the existence of a th ing must either be contained in the very nature and definition of the existent th ing (in effect, existence belongs to its na­ ture) or must have its being independently of the thing itself.

From these premises it follows that if a fixed number of individuals exist in Na­ ture, there must necessarily be a cause why those individuals and not more or

Part I, Proposition 10 2 2 1

fewer exist. If, for example, in Nature twenty men were t o exist (for the sake of greater clarity I suppose that they exist simultaneously and that no others existed in Nature before them), in order to account for the existence of these twenty men , i t will not be enough for us to demonstrate the cause of human nature in general; i t will furthermore be necessary to demonstrate the cause why not more or fewer than twenty men exist, since (Note 3) there must necessarily be a cause for the ex­ istence of each one. But th is cause (Notes 2 and 3) cannot be contained in the nature of man , since the true definition of man does not involve the number twenty. So (Note 4) the cause of the existence of these twenty men, and conse­ quently of each one, must necessarily be external to each one, and therefore we can reach the unqual ified conclusion that whenever several individuals of a kind exist, there rnust necessarily be an external cause for their existence. Now since existence belong. to the nature of substance (as has already been shown in this Schol iurn) the definition of substance rnust involve necessary existence, and con­ sequently the existence of substance must be concluded solely from its definition. But the existence of several substances cannot follow from the definition of sub­ stance (as I have already shown in Notes 2 and 3). Therefore, from the definition of substance it follows necessarily that there exists only one substance of the same nature, as was proposed.

PROPOSITION 9 The more reality or being a thing has, the more attributes it has.

Proof This is evident frorn Definition 4.

PROPOSITION 1 0 Each attribute of one substance must be conceived through itself

Proof For an attribute is that which intellect perceives of substance as consti­ tuting its essence (Def. 4), and so (Def. 3) it must be conceived through itself.

Scholiurn From this it is clear that although two attributes be conceived as re­ ally distinct, that is, one without the help of the other, still we cannot deduce therefrom that they constitute two entities, or two different substances. For i t is in the natu re of substance that each of its attributes be conceived through itself, since all the attributes it possesses have always been in i t simultaneously, and one could not have been produced by another; but each expresses the reality or being of substance. So i t is by no means absurd to ascribe more than one attribute to one substance. Indeed, nothing in Nature is clearer than that each entity must be conceived under sorne attribute, and the more reality or being it has, the rnore are its attributes which express necessity, or eternity, and infinity. Consequently, nothing can be clearer than this, too, that an absolutely infini te entity must nec­ essarily be defined (Def. 6) as an entity consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses a definite essence, eternal and infinite. Now if anyone asks by what mark can we distingu ish between different substances, let him read the fol­ lowing Propositions, which show that in Nature there exists only one substance, absolutely infinite. So this distinguishing rnark would be sought in vain .

222 Ethics

PROPOSITION 1 1 God, or substance consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses eternal and infinite essence, necessarily exists.

Proof If you deny this, conceive, if you can, that God does not exist. Therefore (Ax. 7), his essence does not involve existence. But th is is absurd (Pr. 7). There­ fore, God necessarily exists.

Second Proof For every thing a cause or reason must be assigned either for its existence or for its nonexistence. For example, if a triangle exists, there must be a reason, or cause, for its existence. If it does not exist, there must be a reason or cause which prevents i t from existing, or which annuls i ts existence. Now this rea­ son or cause must either be contained in the nature of the thing or be external to i t. For example, the reason why a square circle does not exist is indicated by its very nature, in that it involves a contradiction. On the other hand, the reason for the existence of substance also follows from its nature alone, in that it involves ex­ istence (Pr. 7) . But the reason for the existence or nonexistence of a circle or a tri­ angle does not follow from their nature, but from the order of universal corporeal Nature. For i t is from this latter that it necessarily follows that either the triangle necessarily exists at this moment or that its present existence is impossible. This is self-evident, and therefrom it follows that a thing necessarily exists if there is no reason or cause which prevents its existence. Therefore, if there can be no reason or cause which prevents God from existing or which annuls h is existence, we are bound to conclude that he necessarily exists. But if there were such a reason or cause, it would have to be either within God's nature or external to it; that is , i t would have to be in another substance of another nature. For ifit were of the same nature, by that very fact it would be granted that God exists. But a substance of another nature would have nothing in common with God (Pr. 2), and so could neither posit nor annul h is existence. Since, therefore, there cannot be external to God's nature a reason or cause that would annul God's existence, then if in­ deed he does not exist, the reason or cause must necessarily be in God's nature, which would therefore involve a contradiction. But to affirm this of a Being ab­ solutely infinite and in the h ighest degree perfect is absurd. Therefore, neither in God nor external to God is there any cause or reason which would annul his ex­ istence. Therefore, God necessarily exists.

A Third Proof To be able to not exist is weakness; on the other hand, to be able to exist is power, as is self-evident. So if what now necessarily exists is nothing but finite entities, then finite entities are more potent than an absolutely infinite En­ tity-which is absurd. Therefore, either nothing exists, or an absolutely infinite Entity necessarily exists, too. But we do exist, either in ourselves or in something else which necessarily exists (Ax. I and Pr. 7) . Therefore, an absolutely infinite Entity- that is (Def. 6), God - necessarily exists.

Scholium In th is last proof I decided to prove God's existence a posteriori so that the proof may be more easily perceived, and not because God's existence does

Part I, Proposition 12 223

not follow a priori from this same basis. For s ince the ability to exist is power, i t follows that the greater the degree of reality that belongs to the nature of a thing, the greater amount of energy it has for existence. So an absolutely infinite Entity or God will have from himself absolutely infinite power to exist, and therefore ex­ ists absolutely.

But perhaps many will not readily find this proof convincing because they are used to considering only such things as derive from external causes. Of these things they observe that those which come qUickly into being-that is, which readily exist- l ikewise readily perish, while things which they conceive as more complex they regard as more difficul t to bring into being- that is, not so ready to exist. However, to free them from these misconceptions I do not need at this point to show what measure of truth there is in the saying, "QUickly come, quickly go; neither need I raise the question whether or not everyth ing is equally easy in re­ spect of Nature as a whole. It is enough to note simply this, that I am not here speaking of things that come into being through external causes, but only of sub­ stances, which (Pr. 6) cannot be produced by any external cause. For whether they consist of many parts or few, things that are brought about by external causes owe whatever degree of perfection or reality they possess entirely to the power of the external cause, and so their existence has its origin solely in the perfection of the external cause, and not in their own perfection. On the other hand, whatever per­ fection substance possesses is due to no external cause; therefore its existence, too, must follow solely from its own nature, and is therefore nothing else but its essence. So perfection does not annul a thing's existence: on the contrary, it posits it; whereas imperfection annuls a thing's existence. So there is nothing of which we can be more certain than the existence of an absolutely infinite or perfect En­ tity; that is, God. For since his essence excludes all imperfection and involves absolute perfection, it thereby removes all reason for doubting his existence and affords the utmost certa inty of it This, I think, must be qu ite clear to all who give a modicum of attention to the matter.

PROPOSITION 1 2 No attribute of substance can be truly conceived from which i t would follow that substance can be divided.

Proof The parts into which substance thus conceived would be divided will ei­ ther retain the nature of substance or they will not. In the first case each part will have to be infinite (Pr. 8) and self-caused (Pr. 6) and consist of a different attrib­ ute (Pr. 5 ) ; and so several substances could be formed from one substance, which is absurd (Pr. 6). Furthermore, the parts would have nothing in common with the whole (Pr. 2), and the whole could exist and be conceived without its parts (Def. 4 and Pro 1 0), the absurdity of which none can doubt. But in the latter case in which the parts wil l not reta in the nature of substance- then when the whole substance would have been divided into equal parts it would lose the nature of substance and would cease to be. Th is is absurd (Pr. 7).

224 Ethics

PROPOSITION 1 3 Absolutely infinite substance is indivisible.

Proof If it were divisible, the parts into which it would be divided will either re­ tain the nature of absolutely infinite substance, or not. In the first case, there would therefore be several substances of the same nature, which is absurd (Pr. 5) . In the second case, absolutely infinite substance can cease to be, which i s also ab­ surd (Pr. l l ) .

Corollary From this it follows that no substance, and consequently no corpo­ real substance, insofar as i t is substance, is divisible.

Scholium The indivisibil ity of substance can be more easily understood merely from the fact that the nature of substance can be conceived only as infinite, and that a part of substance can mean only finite substance, which involves an obvi­ ous contradiction (Pr. 8).

PROPOSITION 1 4 There can be, o r b e conceived, n o other substance but God.

Proof Since God is an absolutely infinite being of whom no attribute ex­ pressing the essence of substance can be denied (Def. 6), and since he neces­ sarily exists (Pr. I I ) , if there were any other substance but God, it would have to be expl icated through some attribute of God, and so there would exist two substances with the same attribute, which is absurd (Pr. 5). So there can be no substance external to God, and consequently no such substance can be con­ ceived. For if it could be conceived, it would have to be conceived necessarily as existing; but this is absurd (by the first part of th is proof). Therefore, no substance can be or be conceived external to God.

Corollary I Hence i t follows qui te clearly that God is one: that is (Def. 6), in the universe there is only one substance, and this is absolutely infinite, as I have already indicated in Schol ium Pro 1 0 .

Corollary 2 It follows that the thing extended and the thing thinking are either attributes of God or (Ax. I) affections of the attributes of God.

PROPOSITION 1 5 Whatever is, is in God, and nothing can be or be conceived without God.

Proof Apartfrom God no substance can be or be conceived (Pr. 1 4) , that is (Def. 3) , something which is in itself and is conceived through itself. Now modes (Def. 5) cannot be or be conceived without substance; therefore, they can be only in the divine nature and can be conceived only through the divine nature. But noth­ ing exists except substance and modes (Ax. I ) . Therefore, nothing can be or be conceived without God.

Scholium Some imagine God in the likeness of man, consisting of mind and body, and subject to passions. But it is clear from what has already been proved

Part I, Proposition 1 5 225

how far they stray from the true knowledge of God . These I dismiss, for all who have given any consideration to the divine nature deny that God is corporeal . They find convincing proof of this in the fuct that by body we understand some quantity having length, breadth, and depth, bounded by a definite shape; and nothing more absurd than this can be attributed to God, a being absolutely infinite.

At the same time, however, by other arguments which they try to prove their point, they show clearly that in their th inking corporeal or extended substance is set completely apart from the divine nature, and they assert that it is created by God. But they have no idea from what divine power it could have been created, which clearly shows that they don't know what they are saying. Now I have clearly proved- at any rate, in my judgment (Cor. Pr. 6 and Sch. 2 Pr. 8)- that no sub­ stance can be produced or created by anything else. Furthermore, in Proposition 14 we showed that apart from God no substance can be or be conceived, and hence we deduced that extended su bstance is one of God's infinite attributes.

However, for a fuller explanation I will refute my opponents' arguments, which all seem to come down to this. Firstly, they think that corporeal substance, inso­ far as it is substance, is made up of parts, and so they deny that it can be infinite, and consequently that i t can perta in to God. This they illustrate with many ex­ amples, of which I will take one or two. They say that if corporeal substance is in­ finite, suppose it to be divided into two parts. Each of these parts will be either finite or infinite. If the former, then the infinite is made up of two finite parts, which is absurd. If the latter, then there is an infinite which is twice as great as an­ other infinite, which is also absurd.

Again, if an infinite length is measured in feet, it will have to consist of an in­ finite number of feet; and if it is measured in inches, it will consist of an infinite number of inches. So one infinite number will be twelve times greater than an­ other infinite number.

lastly, iffrom one point in an infinite quantity two l ines, AB and AC, be drawn of fixed and determinate length, and thereafter be produced

B to infinity, it is clear that the distance between B and C con- < tinues to increase and finally changes from a determinate A distance to an indeterminate distance.

As these absurdities follow, they think, from supposing C quantity to be infinite, they conclude that corporeal sub- stance must be finite and consequently cannot pertain to God's essence.

The second argument is also drawn from God's consummate perfection. Since God, they say, is a supremely perfect being, he cannot be that which is acted upon. But corporeal substance, being divisible, can be acted upon . It therefore follows that corporeal substance does not pertain to God's essence.

These are the arguments I find put forward by writers who thereby seek to prove that corporeal substance is unworthy of the divine essence and cannot perta in to it However, the student who looks carefully into these arguments will find that I have already repl ied to them, since they are all founded on the same supposition that material substance is composed of parts, and this I have already shown to be absurd (Pr. 12 and Cor. Pro 1 3) . Again, careful reflection will show that all those

226 Ethics

alleged absurdities (if indeed they are absurdities, which is not now under dis­ cussion) from which they seek to prove that extended substance is finite do not at all follow from the supposition that quantity is infinite, but that infinite quantity is measurable and is made up of finite parts. Therefore, from the resultant ab­ surdities no other conclusion can be reached but that infinite quantity is not meas­ urable and cannot be made up of finite parts . And this is exactly what we have already proved (Pr. 1 2) . So the weapon they aimed at us is in fact turned against themselves. If therefore from this "reductio ad absurdum" argument of theirs they still seek to deduce that extended substance must be finite, they are surely just l ike one who, having made the supposition that a circle has the properties of a square, deduces therefrom that a circle does not have a center from which all l ines drawn to the circumference are equal . For corporeal substance, which can be conceived only as infinite, one, and indivisible (Prs. 8, 5, and 1 2 ) they conceive as made up offinite parts, mul tiplex, and divisible, so as to deduce that it is finite. In the same way others, too, having supposed that a l ine is composed of points, can find many arguments to prove that a l ine cannot be infinitely divided. Indeed, it is j ust as ab­ surd to assert that corporeal substance is composed of bodies or parts as that a body is composed of surfaces, surfaces of l ines, and lines of points. This must be ad­ mitted by all who know clear reason to be infall ible, and particularly those who say that a vacuum cannot exist. For if corporeal substance could be so divided that its parts were distinct in reality, why could one part not be annihilated while the others remain joined together as before? And why should all the parts be so fitted together as to leave no vacuum? Surely, in the case of things which are in reality distinct from one another, one can exist without the other and remain in its orig­ inal state. Since therefore there is no vacuum in Nature (of which [more] else­ wherel ) and all its parts must so harmonize that there is no vacuum, it also follows that the parts cannot be distinct in reality; that is, corporeal substance, in­ sofar as it is substance, cannot be divided.

If [ am now asked why we have this natural inclination to divide quantity, I re­ ply that we conceive quantity in two ways, to wit, abstractly, or superficially- in other words, as represented in the imagination - or as substance, which we do only through the intellect. If therefore we consider quantity insofar as we repre­ sent it in the imagination- and this is what we more frequently and readily do­ we find i t to be finite, d ivisible, and made up of parts. But if we consider i t intel­ lectually and conceive it insofar as it is substance-and this is very difficult- then it will be found to be infinite, one, and indivisible, as we have already suffiCiently proved. This will be quite clear to those who can distinguish between the imagi­ nation and the intellect, especially if this point also is stressed, that matter is everywhere the same, and there are no distinct parts in it except insofar as we con­ ceive matter as modified in various ways. Then its parts are distinct, not really but

Notes Without brackets are Spmoza's. Bracketed notes are those of Seymour Feldman (mam annota­ tor for thiS work), translator Samuel Shirley, and Michael L. Morgan.

t [If thiS refers to anythmg In Spinoza's extant works, It rrrust be to his early Descartes's Principles of Philo.ophy II 2-3 - S F J

Part I, Proposition 17 227

only modally. For example, we conceive water to be divisible and to have separate paris insofar as it is water, but not insofar as it is material substance. In this latter respect it is not capable of separation or division. Furthermore, water, qua water, comes into existence and goes out of existence; but qua substance it does not come into existence nor go out of existence [corrumpitur].

I consider that in the above I have also replied to the second argument, since this too is based on the supposition that matter, insofar as it is substance, is divis­ ible and made up of paris. And even though this were not so, I do not know why matter should be unworthy of the divine nature, since (Pr. 1 4) there can be no substance external to God by which i t can be acted upon. All things, I repeat, are in God, and all th ings that come to pass do so only through the laws of God's in­ finite nature and follow through the necessity of his essence (as I shall later show). Therefore, by no manner of reasoning can it be said that God is acted upon by anything else or that extended substance is unworthy of the divine nature, even though it be supposed divisible, as long as it is granted to be eternal and infinite.

But enough of th is subject for the present.

PROPOSITION 1 6 From the necessity of the divine nature there must follow infinite things i n infi­ nite ways [modis] (that is, everything that can come within the scope of infinite intellect).

Proof This proposition should be obvious to everyone who will but consider this point, that from the given definition of any one thing the intellect infers a num­ ber of properties which necessarily follow in fact from the definition (that is, from the very essence of the thing), and the more reality the definition of the thing ex­ presses (that is, the more reality the essence of the thing defined involves), the greater the number ofils properties. Now since divine nature possesses absolutely infinite attributes (Def. 6), of which each one also expresses infinite essence in ils own kind, then there must necessarily follow from the necessity of the divine na­ ture an infinity of things in infinite ways (that is, everything that can come within the scope of the infinite intellect).

Corollary I Hence it follows that God is the efficient cause of all things that can come within the scope of the infinite intellect.

Corollary 2 Secondly, it follows that God is the cause through h imself, not per accidens.

Corollary 3 Thirdly, it follows that God is absolutely the first cause.

PROPOSITION 1 7 God acts solely from the laws of his own nature, constrained by none.

Proof We have just shown that an infinity of things follow, absolutely, solely from the necessity of divine nature, or-which is the same thing-solely from the laws of that same nature (Pr. 16); and we have proved (Pr. 1 5) that nothing can

228 Ethics

be or be conceived without God, but that everything is in God. Therefore, there can be nothing external to God by which he can be determined or constrained to act. Thus, God acts solely from the laws of h is own natu re and is constrained by none.

Corollary I Hence it follows, firstly, that there is no cause, except the perfec­ tion of h is nature, which either extrinsically or intrinsically moves God to act.

Corollary 2 It follows, secondly, that God alone is a free cause. For God alone exists solely from the necessity of his own nature (Pr. 1 1 and Cor. 1 Pr. 1 4) and acts solely from the necessity of h is own nature (Pr. 1 7) . So he alone is a free cause (Def. 7).

Scholium Others take the view that God is a free cause because-so they think-he can bring it about that those th ings which we have said follow from h is nature- that is, which are within his power-should not come about; that is, they should not be produced by him. But this is as much as to say that God can bring i t about that it should not follow from the nature of a triangle that its three angles are equal to two right angles, or that from a given cause the effect should not fol­ low, which is absurd.

Furthermore, I shall show later on without the help of th is proposition that nei­ ther intellect nor will pertain to the nature of God. I know indeed that there are many who think they can prove that intellect in the h ighest degree and free will belong to the nature of God; for they say they know of nothing more perfect which they may attribute to God than that which is the h ighest perfection in us. Again, although they conceive of God as having in actual ity intellect in the highest de­ gree, they yet do not believe he can bring about the existence of everything which in actual ity he understands, for they th ink they would thereby be nullifYing God's power. If, they say, he had created everything that is within his intellect, then he would not have been able to create anything more; and this they regard as in­ consistent with God's omnipotence. So they have preferred to regard God as in­ different to everyth ing and as creating noth ing but what he has decided, by some absolute exercise of will, to create. However, I th ink I have shown quite clearly (Pr. 1 6) that from God's supreme power or infinite nature an infinity of thing. in infinite ways- that is, everything-has necessarily flowed or is always following from that same necessity, just as from the nature of a triangle it follows from eter­ nity to eternity that its three angles are equal to two right angles. Therefore, God's omnipotence has from eternity been actual and will remain for eternity in the same actuality. In this way, I submit, God's omnipotence is established as being far more perfect. Indeed my opponents-let us speak frankly-seem to be deny­ ing God's omnipotence. For they are obliged to admit that God understands an infinite number of creatable things which nevertheless he can never create. If this were not so, that is, ifhe were to create all the things that he understands, he would exhaust his omnipotence, according to them, and render h imself imperfect. Thus, to affirm God as perfect they are reduced to having to affirm at the same time that

Part I, Proposition 18 229

he cannot bring about everyth ing that is within the bounds of h is power. I cannot imagine anything more absurd than th is, or more inconsisten t with God's om­ nipotence.

Furthermore, I have something here to say about the intellect and will that is usually attributed to God. If intellect and will do indeed pertain to the eternal essence of God, one must understand in the case of both these attributes some­ thing very different from the meaning widely entertained. For the intellect and will that would constitute the essence of God would have to be vastIy different from hu­ man intellect and will, and would have no point of agreement except the name. They could be no more al ike than the celestial constellation of the Dog and the dog that barks. This I will prove as follows. If intellect does pertain to the divine na­ ture, it cannot, l ike man's intellect, be posterior to (as most thinkers hold) or si­ multaneous with the objects of understanding, since God is prior in causality to all things (Cor. I Pro 16) . On the contrary, the truth and formal essence of things is what it is because it exists as such in the intellect of God as an object of thought. Therefore, God's intellect, insornr as it is conceived as constituting God's essence, is in actual fact the cause of things, in respect both of their essence and their exis­ tence. This seems to have been recognized also by those who have asserted that God's intellect, will, and power are one and the same. Since therefore God's in­ tellect is the one and only cause of things, both of their essence and their existence, as we have shown, i t must necessarily be different from them both in respect of essence and existence. For that which is caused differs from its cause preCisely in what it has from its cause. For example, a man is the cause of the existence of an­ other man, but not of the other's essence; for the essence is an eternal truth. So with regard to their essence the two men can be in full agreement, but they must differ with regard to existence; and for that reason ifthe existence of the one should cease, the existence of the other would not thereby cease. But if the essence of the one could be destroyed and rendered rnlse, so too would the essence of the other. Therefore, a th ing which is the cause of the essence and existence of some effect must differ from that effect both in respect of essence and existence. But God's in­ tellect is the cause of the essence and existence of man's intellect. Therefore, God's intellect, insofar as it is conceived as constituting the divine essence, differs from man's intellect both in respect of essence and existence, and cannot agree with it in any respect other than name-which is what I sought to prove. In the matter of will, the proof is the same, as anyone can readily see.

PROPOSITION 1 8 God is the immanent, not the transitive, ceruse of all things.

Proof All things that are, are in God, and must be conceived through God (Pr. 1 5 ) , and so (Cor. I Pr. 1 6) God is the cause of the things that are in him, which is the first point. Further, there can be no substance external to God (Pr. 1 4); that is (Def. 3), a thing which is in itself external to God-which is the second point. Therefore, God is the immanent, not the transitive, cause of all things.

230 Ethics

PROPOSITION 1 9 God [is etema/], that is, all the attributes o f God a re eternal.

Proof God is substance (Def. 6) which necessarily exists (Pr. I I ) ; that is (Pr. 7), a thing to whose nature it perta ins to exist, or-and this is the same thing-a thing from whose definition existence follows; and so (Def. 8) God is eternal. Further, by the attributes of God must be understood that which expresses the essence of the Divine substance (Def. 4). that is, that which pertains to substance. It is this, I say, which the attributes themselves must involve. But eternity pertains to the nature of substance (as I have shown in Pr. 7). Therefore, each of the attributes must involve eternity, and so they are all eternal.

Scholium This proposition is also perfectly clear from the manner in which I proved the existence of God (Pr. I I ). From this proof, I repeat, it is obvious that God's existence is, l ike h is essence, an eternal truth. Again, I have also proved God's eternity in another way in Proposition 19 of my Descartes's Principles ofPhi­ losophy, and there is no need here to go over that ground again.

PROPOSITION 20 God's existence and his essence are one and the same.

Proof God and all h is attributes are etemal (Pr. 1 9); that is, each one of his at­ tributes expresses existence (Def. 8). Therefore, the same attributes of God that explicate his eternal essence (Def. 4) at the same time explicate his eternal exis­ tence; that is, that which constitutes the essence of God at the same time consti­ tutes h is existence, and so h is existence and h is essence are one and the same.

Corollary I From this it follows, firstly, that God's existence, like h is essence, is an eternal truth.

Corollary 2 It follows, secondly, that God is immutable; that is, all the attrib­ utes of God are immutable. For if they were to change in respect of existence, they would also have to change in respect of essence (Pr. 10) ; that is-and this is self­ evident- they would have to become rnlse instead of true, which is absurd.

PROPOSITION 2 1 All things that follow from the absolute nature of any attribute of God must have existed always, and as infinite; that is, through the said attribute they are eternal and infinite.

Proof Suppose this proposition be denied and conceive, if you can, that some­ thing in some attribute of God, following from its absolute nature, is finite and has a determinate existence or duration; for example, the idea of God in Thought. Now Thought, being assumed to be an attribute of God, is necessarily infinite by its own nature (Pr. I I ) . However, insofar as it has the idea of God, i t is being sup­ posed as finite. Now (Def. 2) i t cannot be conceived as finite unless it is deter­ mined through Thought itself. But it cannot be determined through Thought itself insornr as Thought constitutes the idea of God, for i t is in that respect that

Part I, Proposition 23 2 3 1

Thought is supposed t o be finite. Therefore, i t i s determined through Thought in­ sofar as Thought does not constitute the idea of God, which Thought must nev­ ertheless necessarily exist (Pr. I I ) . Therefore, there must be Thought which does not constitute the idea of God, and so the idea of God does not follow necessarily from its nature insofur as it is absolute Thought. (For it is conceived as constitut­ ing and as not constituting the idea of God.) This is con trary to our hypothesis. Therefore, if the idea of God in Thought, or anything in some attribute of God (it does not matter what is selected, since the proof is universal), follows from the necessity of the absolute nature ofthe attribute, it must necessarily be infinite. That was our first point.

Furthermore, that wh ich thus follows from the necessity of the nature of some attribute cannot have a determinate existence, or duration. If this be denied, sup' pose that there is in some attribute of God a th ing following from the necessity of the nature of the attribute, for example, the idea of God in Thought, and suppose that th is thing either did not exist at some time, or will cease to exist in the future. Now since Thought is assumed as an attribute of God, i t must necessarily exist, and as immutable (Pr. I I and Cor. 2 Pr. 20). Therefore, outside the bounds of the duration of the idea of God (for this idea is supposed at some time not to have ex­ isted, or will at some point cease to exist), Thought will have to exist without the idea of God. But th is is contrary to the hypothesis, for i t is supposed that when Thought is granted the idea of God necessarily follows. Therefore, the idea of God in Thought, or anything that necessarily follows from the absolute nature of some attribute of God, cannot have a determinate existence, but is eternal through that same attribute. That was our second point. Note that the same holds for anything in an attribute of God which necessarily follows from the absolute nature of God.

PROPOSITION 22 What""er follows from some attribute of God, insofar as the attribute is modified by a modification that exists necessarily and as infinite through that same attribute, must also exist both necessarily and as infinite.

Proof This proposition is proved in the same way as the preceding one.

PROPOSITION 2 3 Every mode which exists necessarily and as infinite must have necessarily followed either from the absolute nature of some attribute of God or from some attribute mod­ ified by a modification which exists necessarily and as infinite.

Proof A mode is in something else through which it must be conceived (Oef. 5); that is (Pr. 1 5 ), it is in God alone and can be conceived only through God. Therefore, if a mode is conceived to exist necessarily and to be infinite, both these characteristics must necessarily be inferred or perceived through some attribute of God insofur as that attribute is conceived to express infinity and necessity of ex­ istence, or (and by Oef. 8 this is the same) eternity; that is (Oef. 6 and Pro 1 9), in­ sofur as it is considered absolutely. Therefore, a mode which exists necessarily and as infinite must have followed from the absolute nature of some attribute of God,

232 Ethics

either directly (Pr. 2 1 ) or through the mediation of some modification which fol­ lows from the absolute nature of the attribute; that is (Pr. 22), which exists neces­ sarily and as infinite.

PROPOSITION 24 The essence of things fJrOduced by God does not involve existence.

Proof This is evident from Def. I . For only that whose nature (considered in it­ self) involves existence is self-caused and exists solely from the necessity of its own nature.

Corollary Hence it follows that God is the cause not only of the coming into ex­ istence of th ings but also of their continuing in existence, or, to use a scholastic term, God is the cause of the being of things [essendi rerum]. For whether things exist or do not exist, in reflecting on their essence we real ize that th is essence in­ volves neither existence nor duration. So it is not their essence which can be the cause of either their existence or their duration, but only God, to whose nature alone existence pertains (Cor. I Pr. 14).

PROPOSITION 2 5 God is the efficient cause not only of the existence of things Imt also of their essence.

Proof If this is denied, then God is not the cause of the essence of th ings, and so (Ax. 4) the essence of things can be conceived without God. But this is absurd (Pr. 1 5 ) . Therefore, God is also the cause of the essence of things.

Scholium This proposition follows more clearly from Pro 1 6; for from that proposition i t follows that from the given divine nature both the essence and the existence of things must be inferred. In a word, in the same sense that God is said to be self-caused he must also be said to be the cause of all th ings. This will be even clearer from the following Corollary.

Corollary Particular things are noth ing but affections of the attributes of God, that is, modes wherein the attributes of God find expression in a definite and de­ terminate way. The proof is obvious from Pr. 1 5 and Def. 5 .

PROPOSITION 26 A thing which has been determined to act in a particular way has necessarily been so determined by God; and a thing which has not been determined by God cannot determine itself to act.

Proof That by which things are said to be determined to act in a particular way must necessarily be something positive (as is obvious). So God, from the neces­ s ity of h is nature, is the efficient cause both of its essence and its existence (Prs. 25 and 16 )-which was the first point. From this the second point quite clearly follows as well. For if a th ing which has not been determined by God could de­ termine itself, the first part of this proposition would be false, which, as I have shown, is absurd.

Part I, Proposition 28 23 3

PROPOSITION 27 A thing which has been determined by God to act in a particular way cannot ren­ der itself undetermined.

Proof This proposition is evident from Axiom 3 .

PROPOSITION 2 8 Every individual thing, i.e., anything whatever which i s finite and has a determi­ nate existence, cannot exist or be determined to act unless it be determined to exist and to act by another cause which is also finite and has a determinate existence, and this cause again cannot exist or be determined to act unless it be determined to exist and to act by another cause which is also finite and has a determinate exis­ tence, and so ad infinitum.

Proof Whatever is determined to exist and to act has been so determined by God (Pr. 26 and Cor. Pr. 24). But that wh ich is finite and has a determinate ex­ istence cannot have been produced by the absolute natu re of one of God's at­ tributes, for whatever follows from the absolute nature of one of God's attributes is infinite and eternal (Pr. 2 1 ) . It must therefore have followed from God or one of his attribu tes insofar as that is considered as affected by some mode; for noth­ ing exists but substance and its modes (Ax. I and Defs. 3 and 5), and modes (Cor. Pr. 25) are nothing but affections of God's attributes. But neither could a finite and determined th ing have followed from God or one of his attributes insofar as that is affected by a modification which is eternal and infinite (Pr. 22). There­ fore, i t must have followed, or been determined to exist and to act, by God or one of h is attribu tes insofar as it was modified by a modification which is finite and has a determinate existence. That was the first point. Then again th is cause or this mode (the reasoning is the same as in the first part of this proof) must also have been determined by another cause, wh ich is also finite and has a determi­ nate existence, and again this last (the reasoning is the same) by another, and so ad infinitum.

Scholium Since some things must have been produced directly by God (those things, in fact, which necessarily follow from h is absolute nature) and others through the medium of these primary th ings (which other things nevertheless cannot be or be conceived without God), it follows, firstly, that God is absolutely the proximate cause of th ings directly produced by him. 1 say "absolutely" [ab­ solute] , and not "within their own kind" [suo genere] , as some say. For the effects of God can neither be nor be conceived without their cause (Pr. 1 5 and Cor. Pr. 24). It follows, secondly, that God cannot properly be said to be the remote cause of individual things, unless perchance for the purpose of distinguishing these things from th ings which he has produced directly, or rather, th ings which fol­ low from his absolute nature. For by "remote cause" we understand a cause which is in no way conjoined with its effect. But all th ings that a re, are in God, and depend on God in such a way that they can neither be nor be conceived without him.

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PROPOSITION 29 Nothing in nature is contingent, but all things are {rom the necessity of the divine nature determined to exist and to act in a definite way.

Proof Whatever is, is in God (Pr. 1 5 ) . But God cannot be termed a con tingent th ing, for (Pr. I I ) he exists necessarily, not contingently. Again, the modes of the divine nature have also followed from it necessarily, not con tingently (Pr. 1 6) , and that, too, whether insofar as the divine nature is considered absolutely (Pr. 2 1 ) o r insofar as it is considered as determined to act in a definite way (Pr. 27). Furthermore, God is the cause of these modes not only insofar as they simply exist (Cor. Pro 26), but also insofar as they are considered as determined to a particular action (Pr. 26). Now if they are not determined by God (Pr. 26), it is an impossibil ity, not a contingency, that they should determine themselves. On the other hand (Pr. 27), if they are determined by God, it is an impossibil­ ity, not a con tingency, that they should render themselves undetermined. Therefore, all th ings are determined from the necessity of the divine nature not only to exist but also to exist and to act in a definite way. Thus, there is no contingency.

Scholium Before I go any further, I wish to explain at this point what we must understand by "Natura naturans" and "Natura naturata." I should perhaps say not "explain; but "remind the reader," for I consider that it is al ready clear from what has gone before that by "Natura naturans" we must understand that which is in itself and is conceived through itself; that is, the attributes of substance that express eternal and infinite essence; or (Cor. I Pr. 14 and Cor. 2 Pr. 1 7) , God insofar as he is considered a free cause. By "Natura naturata" I understand all that follows from the necessity of God's nature, that is, from the necessity of each one of God's attributes; or all the modes of God's attributes insofar as they are considered as things which are in God and can neither be nor be conceived with­ out God.

PROPOSITION 30 The finite intellect in act or the infinite inmllect in act must comprehend the at­ tributes or God and the affections or God, and nothing else.

Proof A true idea must agree with its object [ideatum] (Ax. 6); that is (as is self­ evident), that which is contained in the intellect as an object of thought must nec­ essarily exist in Nature. But in Nature (Cor. I Pro 1 4) there is but one substance­ God -and no other affections (Pr. 1 5) than those which are in God and that can neither be nor be conceived (Pr. 1 5) without God. Therefore, the finite intellect in act or the infinite intellect in act must comprehend the attributes of God and the affections of God, and nothing else.

PROPOSITION 3 1 The intellect in act, whether it be finite or infinite, as also will, desire, lave, etc., must be related to Natura naturata, not to Natura naturans.

Part I, Proposition 33 23 5

Proof By intellect (as is self-evident) we do not understand absolute thought, but only a definite mode of th inking which differs from other modes such as de­ s ire, love, etc . , and so (Def. 5) must be conceived through absolute thought-that is (Pr. 1 5 and Def. 6), an attribute of God which expresses the eternal and infinite essence of thought- in such a way that without this attribute it can neither be nor be conceived; and therefore (Sch. Pr. 29) it must be related to Natura naturata, not to Natura naturans, j ust l ike the other modes of th inking.

Scholium The reason for my here speaking of the intellect in act is not that I grant there can be any intellect in potential ity, but that, wishing to avoid any con­ fusion, I want to confine myself to what we perceive with the utmost clarity, to wit, the very act of understanding, than which nothing is more clearly appre­ hended by us. For we can understand nothing that does not lead to a more per­ fect cognition of the understanding.

PROPOSITION 32 Will cannot be called a free cause, but only a necessary cause.

Proof Will, l ike intellect, is only a definite mode of thinking, and so (Pr. 28) no single volition can exist or be determined to act unless it is determined by another cause, and this cause again by another, and so ad infinitum. Now if will be sup­ posed infinite, it must also be determined to exist and to act by God, not insofar as he is absolutely infinite substance, but insofar as he possesses an attribute which expresses the infinite and eternal essence ofThought (Pr. 2 3) . Therefore, in what­ ever way will is conceived, whether finite or infinite, it requires a cause by which i t is determined to exist and to act; and so (Def. 7) i t cannot be said to be a free cause, but only a necessary or constra ined cause.

Corollary 1 Hence i t follows, firstly, that God does not act from freedom of wil l . Corollary 2 It follows, secondly, that wil l and intellect bear the same relation­ ship to God's nature as motion-and-rest and, absolutely, as all natural phenomena that must be determined by God (Pr. 29) to exist and to act in a definite way. For will, l ike all the rest, stands in need of a cause by wh ich it may be determined to exist and to act in a definite manner. And although from a given will or intellect infinite things may follow, God cannot on that account be said to act from free­ dom of will any more than he can be sa id to act from freedom of motion-and-rest because of what follows from motion-and-rest (for from this, too, infinite things follow). Therefore, will pertains to God's nature no more than do other natural phenomena. It bears the same relationsh ip to God's natu re as does motion-and­ rest and everything else that we have shown to follow from the necessity of the divine nature and to be determined by that divine nature to exist and to act in a definite way.

PROPOSITION 3 3 Things could not have been produced by God i n any other way o r in any other or­ der than is the case.

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Proof All things have necessarily followed from the nature of God (Pr. 1 6) and have been determined to exist and to act in a definite way from the necessity of God's nature (Pr. 29). Therefore, if things could have been of a different nature or been determined to act in a different way so that the order of Nature would have been different, then God's nature, too, could have been other than it now is, and therefore (Pr. I I ) th is different nature, too, would have had to exist, and con­ sequently there would have been two or more Gods, which (Cor. I Pr. 14) is ab­ surd. Therefore, things could not have been produced by God in any other way or in any other order than is the case.

Scholium I Since I have here shown more clearly than the midday sun that in things there is absolutely nothing by virtue of which they can be said to be "con­ tingent," I now wish to explain briefly what we should understand by "contin­ gent"; but I must first deal with "necessary" and "impossible." A thing is termed "necessary" either by reason of its essence or by reason of its cause. For a thing's existence necessarily follows either from its essence and definition or from a given efficient cause. Again, it is for these same reasons that a thing is termed "impos­ sible" - that is, either because its essence or definition involves a contradiction or because there is no external cause determined to bring i t into existence. But a thing is termed "con tingen�' for no other reason than the deficiency of our knowl­ edge. For if we do not know whether the essence of a th ing involves a contradic­ tion, or if, knowing full well that its essence does not involve a contradiction, we still cannot make any certain judgment as to its existence because the chain of causes is h idden from us, then that th ing cannot appear to us either as necessary or as impossible. So we term it either "contingenr' or "possible."

Scholium 2 It clearly follows from the above that things have been brought into being by God with supreme perfection, since they have necessarily followed from a most perfect nature. Nor does th is imply any imperfection in God, for it is h is perfection that has constra ined us to make this affirmation. Indeed, from its con­ trary i t would clearly follow (as I have just shown) that God is not supremely per­ fect, because if things had been brought into being in a different way by God, we should have to attribute to God another nature different from that which consid­ eration of a most perfect Being has made us attribute to him.

However, I doubt not that many wil l ridicule this view as absurd and wil l not give their minds to i ts examination, and for this reason alone, that they are in the habit of attributing to God another kind offreedom very differen t from that which we (Def. 7) have assigned to him, that is, an absolute will. Yet I do not doubt that if they were willing to think the matter over and carefully reflect on our chain of proofs they would in the end reject the kind of freedom which they now attribute to God not only as nonsensical but as a serious obstacle to science. It is needless for me here to repeat what was said in the Scholium to Proposition 17. Yet for their sake I shall proceed to show that, even if it were to be granted that will per­ ta ins to the essence of God, it would nevertheless follow from h is perfection that things could not have been created by God in any other way or in any other or­ der. This will readily be shown if we first consider-as they themselves grant-

Part I, Proposition 33 237

that on God's decree and will a lone does it depend that each th ing is what i t is. For otherwise God would not be the cause of all th ings. Further, there is the fact that all God's decrees have been sanctioned by God from eternity, for otherwise he could be accused of imperfection and inconstancy. But since the eternal does not admit of "when" or "before" or "after; it follows merely from God's perfec­ tion that God can never decree otherwise nor ever could have decreed otherwise; in other words, God could not have been prior to his decrees nor can he be with­ out them. "But;' they will say, "granted the supposition that God had made a dif­ ferent universe, or that from eternity he had made a different decree concerning Nature and her order, no imperfection in God would follow therefrom." But if they say th is, they will be granting at the same time that God can change his de­ crees. For if God's decrees had been different from what in fact he has decreed regarding Nature and her order- that is, if he had willed and conceived differ­ ently concerning Nature- he would necessarily have had a different intellect and a different will from that which he now has. And if i t is permissible to attribute to God a different intellect and a different will without any change in h is essence and perfection, why should he not now be able to change his decrees concerning created things, and nevertheless remain equally perfect? For h is intellect and will regarding created things and their order have the same relation to his essence and perfection, in whatever manner it be conceived.

Then again, all philosophers whom I have read grant that in God there is no intellect in potential ity but only intellect in act. Now since all of them also grant that his intellect and will are not distinct from his essence, it therefore follows from this, too, that if God had had a different intellect in act and a different will, h is essence too would necessarily have been different Therefore-as I deduced from the beginning - if things had been brought into being by God so as to be differ­ ent from what they now are, God's intellect and will - that is (as is granted), God's essence- must have been different, which is absurd. Therefore, since things could not have been brought into being by God in any other way or order-and it follows from God's supreme perfection that th is is true-surely we can have no sound reason for bel ieving that God did not wish to create al l the things that are in h is intellect through that very same perfection whereby he understands them.

"But;' they will say, "there is in th ings no perfection or imperfection; that which is in them whereby they are perfect or imperfect, and are called good or bad, depends only on the will of God. Accordingly, if God had so willed it he could have brought it about that that which is now perfection should be u tmost imperfection, and vice versa." But what else is this but an open assertion that God, who necessarily understands that which he wills, can by his will bring it about that he should understand things in a way different from the way he un­ derstands them-and this, as I have just shown, is utterly absurd. So I can turn their own argument aga inst them, as follows. All th ings depend on the power of God. For th ings to be able to be otherwise than as they are, God's will, too, would necessarily have to be different But God's will cannot be different (as we have j ust shown most clearly from the consideration of God's perfection) . Therefore, neither can things be different.

238 Ethics

I admit that this view which subjects everything to some kind of indifferent will of God and asserts that everything depends on h is pleasure diverges less from the truth than the view of those who hold that God does everything with the good in mind. For these people seem to posit something extemal to God that does not de­ pend upon him, to which in acting God looks as if it were a model, or to which he a ims, as if it were a fixed target. This is surely to subject God to fate; and no more absurd assertion can be made about God, whom we have shown to be the first and the only free cause of both the essence and the existence of things. So I need not spend any more time in refuting this absurdity.

PROPOSITION 34 God's power is his very essence.

Proof From the sole necessity of God's essence it follows that God is self-caused (Pr. I I ) and the cause of all th ings (Pr. 16 and Cor.) . Therefore, God's power, whereby he and all th ings are and act, is his very essence.

PROPOSITION 3 5 Whatever we conceive to be within God's power necessarily exists.

Proof Whatever is within God's power must be so comprehended in h is essence (Pr. 34) that it follows necessarily from it, and thus necessarily exists.

PROPOSITION 36 Nothing exists from whose nature an effect does not follow.

Proof Whatever exists expresses God's nature or essence in a definite and de­ terminate way (Cor. Pr. 25 ) ; that is (Pr. 34), whatever exists expresses God's power, which is the cause of all th ings, in a definite and determinate way, and so (Pr. 1 6) some effect must follow from it.

APPENDIX

I have now explained the nature and properties of God: that he necessarily exists, that he is one alone, that he is and acts solely from the necessity of his own na­ ture, that he is the free cause of all things and how so, that all things are in God and are so dependent on him that they can neither be nor be conceived without him, and lastly, that all things have been predetermined by God, not from his free will or absolute pleasure, but from the absolute nature of God, h is infinite power. Furthermore, whenever the opportunity arose I have striven to remove prejudices that might hinder the apprehension of my proofs. But since there still remain a considerable number of prejudices, which have been, and still are, an obstacle­ indeed, a very great obstacle- to the acceptance of the concatenation of things in the manner which I have expounded, I have thought it proper at this point to bring these prejudices before the bar of reason.

Part I, Appendix 239

Now all the prejudices which I intend to mention here turn on this one point, the widespread belief among men that all things in Nature are l ike themselves in acting with an end in view. Indeed, they hold it as certain that God h imself di­ rects everything to a fixed end; for they say that God has made everything for man's sake and has made man so that he should worship God. So this is the first point I shall consider, seeking the reason why most people are victims of this prejudice and why all are so naturally disposed to accept it Secondly, I shall demonstrate its falSity; and lastly I shall show how it has been the source of misconceptions about good and bad, right and wrong, praise and blame, order and confusion , beauty and ugl iness, and the l ike.

However, it is not appropriate here to demonstrate the origin of these miscon­ ceptions from the nature of the human mind. It will suffice at this point if I take as my basis what must be universally admitted, that all men are born ignorant of the causes of things, that they all have a desire to seek their own advantage, a de­ sire of which they are conscious. From this it follows, firstly, that men believe that they are free, precisely because they are conscious of their vol itions and desires; yet concerning the causes that have determined them to desire and will they do not think, not even dream about, because they are ignorant of them. Secondly, men act always with an end in view, to wit, the advantage that they seek. Hence i t happens that they are always looking only for the final causes of things done, and are satisfied when they find them, having, of course, no reason for further doubt. But if they fail to discover them from some external source, they have no recourse but to turn to themselves, and to reflect on what ends would normally determine them to similar actions, and so they necessarily judge other minds by their own. Further, since they find within themselves and outside themselves a considerable number of means very convenien t for the pursuit of their own ad­ vantage-as, for instance, eyes for seeing, teeth for chewing, cereals and l iving creatures for food, the sun for giving l ight, the sea for breeding fish - the result is that they look on all the things of Nature as means to their own advantage. And realizing that these were found, not produced by them, they come to believe that there is someone else who produced these means for their use. For looking on things as means, they could not believe them to be self-created, but on the anal­ ogy of the means which they are accustomed to produce for themselves, they were bound to conclude that there was some governor or governors of Nature, endowed with human freedom, who have attended to all their needs and made everything for their use. And having no information on the subject, they also had to estimate the character of these rulers by their own, and so they asserted that the gods direct everything for man's use so that they may bind men to them and be held in the highest honor by them. So it came about that every individual devised different methods of worshipping God as he thought fit in order that God should love him beyond others and direct the whole of Nature so as to serve his bl ind cupidity and insatiable greed. Thus it was that this misconception developed into superstition and became deep-rooted in the minds of men, and it was for th is reason that every man strove most earnestly to understand and to explain the final causes of all th ings. But in seeking to show that Nature does noth ing in va in - that is, nothing

240 Ethics

that is not to man's advantage- they seem to have shown only th is, that Nature and the gods are as crazy as mankind.

Consider, I pray, what has been the upshot. Among so many of Nature's bless­ ings they were bound to discover quite a number of disasters, such as storms, earthquakes, diseases and so forth, and they mainta ined that these occurred be­ cause the gods were angry at the wrongs done to them by men, or the faults com­ mitted in the course of their wOll>hip. And although daily experience cried out against this and showed by any number of examples that blessings and disasters befull the godly and the ungodly alike without discrimination, they did not on that account abandon their ingrained prejudice. For they found it easier to regard this fact as one among other mysteries they could not undell>tand and thus maintain their innate condition of ignorance rather than to demolish in its entirety the theory they had constructed and devise a new one. Hence they made it axiomatic that the j udgment of the gods is far beyond man's understanding. Indeed, i t is for this reason , and this reason only, that truth might have evaded mankind forever had not Mathematics, which is concerned not with ends but only with the essences and properties of figures, revealed to men a different standard of truth . And there are other causes too- there i s no need to mention them here- which could have made men aware of these widespread misconceptions and brought them to a true knowledge of th ings.

I have thus sufficiently dealt with my fill>t point. There is no need to spend time in going on to show that Nature has no fixed goal and that all final causes are but figments of the human imagination . For I think that this is now quite evident, both from the basic causes from which I have traced the origin of this misconception and from Proposition 16 and the Corollaries to Proposition 32, and in addition from the whole set or proofS I have adduced to show that all things in Nature pro­ ceed from all eternal necessity and with supreme perfection. But I will make th is additional poin t, that th is doctrine of Final Causes tums Nature completely up­ side down, for it regards as an effect that which is in fuct a cause, and vice versa. Again, it makes that which is by nature first to be last; and finally, that which is highest and most perfect is held to be the most imperfect. Omitting the first two points as self-evident, Propositions 2 1 , 22, and 23 make it clear that that effect is most perfect which is directly produced by God, and an effect is the less perfect in proportion to the number of intermediary causes required for its production . But if the things produced directly by God were brought about to enable him to attain an end, then of necessity the last things for the sake of which the earlier things were brought about would excel all others. Aga in, this doctrine negates God's perfection; for if God acts with an end in view, he must necessarily be seek­ ing someth ing that he lacks. And although theologians and metaphysicians may draw a distinction between a purpose arising from want and an assimilative pur­ pose,' they still admit that God has acted in all things for the sake of himself, and

Z [Spmoza alludes here to a late scholastic dlstmchon between two kinds of purposes, or goals: ( 1 ) a purpose that satlSfies some mternal need or lack (fines indigentil1£); and (2) a purpose that alJns to share what one already has With others who lack It (fines assimllationis). In the present case, thIS

Part I, Appendix 241

not for the sake of the things to be created. For prior to creation they are not able to point to anything but God as a purpose for God's action. Thus they have to ad­ mit that God lacked and desired those things for the procurement of which he willed to create the means-as is self-evident.

I must not fail to mention here that the advocates of th is doctrine, eager to dis­ play their talent in assigning purpose to things, have introduced a new style of argument to prove their doctrine, i .e . , a reduction, not to the impossible, but to ignorance, thus revealing the lack of any other argument in its fuvor. For example, if a stone falls from the roof on somebody's head and kills him, by this method of arguing they will prove that the stone fell in order to kill the man; for if it had not fallen for this purpose by the will of God, how could so many circumstances (and there are often many coinciding circumstances) have chanced to concur? Perhaps you will reply that the event occurred because the wind was blowing and the man was walking that way. But they will persist in asking why the wind blew at that time and why the man was walking that way at that very time. If you again reply that the wind sprang up at that time because on the previous day the sea had be­ gun to toss after a period of calm and that the man had been invited by a friend, they will again persist-for there is no end to questions- "But why did the sea toss, and why was the man invited for that time?" And so they will go on and on asking the causes of causes, until you take refuge in the will of God - that is, the sanctuary of ignorance. Similarly, when they consider the structure of the human body, they are astonished, and being ignorant of the causes of such skillful work they conclude that it is fashioned not by mechanical art but by divine or super­ natural art, and is so arranged that no one part shall in jure another.

As a result, he who seeks the true causes of miracles and is eager to understand the works of Nature as a scholar, and not just to gape at them l ike a fool, is uni­ versally considered an impious heretic and denounced by those to whom the common people bow down as interpreters of Nature and the gods. For these people know that the dispelling of ignorance would entail the disappearance of that astonishment, which is the one and only support for their argument and for safeguarding their authority. But I will leave this subject and proceed to the third point that I proposed to deal with.

When men become convinced that everything that is created is created on their behalf, they were bound to consider as the most important quality in every individual th ing that which was most useful to them, and to regard as of the h igh­ est excellence all those things by which they were most benefited. Hence they came to form these abstract notions to explain the natures of things: Good, Bad,

dIStinction implIes that when God does something purposively, he acts not to fulfill a need he has, but to benefit creahue5. In their commentaries on the Ethics, both LewIS Robinson and Harty Wolf­ son refer to the seventeenth-century Dutch theologian A. Heereboord as Spinoza's source for this distinction (L. Robinson, Kommentar zu Spinoza's Ethik (Leipzig, 1928), pp. 234-235; H. Wolfson, The PhilooophrofSpinoza (New York, 1969), vol. I, p. 432).

The theologtans dended by Sptnoza hoped to avoid by means of thIS distinction the suggestion that If God acts purposively, he does so because of a need on his part.]

242 Ethics

Order, Confusion, Hot, Cold, Beauty, Ugl iness; and since they believed that they are free, the following abstract notions came into being: Praise, Blame, Right, Wrong. The latter I shall deal with later on after I have treated of human nature; at th is point I shall briefly explain the former.

All that conduces to well-being and to the worship of God they call Good, and the contrary, Bad. And since those who do not understand the nature of th ings, but only imagine things, make no affirmative judgments about things themselves and mistake their imagination for intellect, they are firmly convinced that there is order in things, ignorant as they are of things and of their own nature. For when things are in such arrangement that, being presented to us through our senses, we can readily p icture them and thus readily remember them, we say that they are well arranged; if the contrary, we say that they are ill arranged, or confused. And since those things we can readily picture we find pleasing compared with other th ings, men prefer order to confusion, as though order were something in Nature other than what is relative to our imagination. And they say that God has created all things in an orderly way, without real izing that they are thus attributing hu­ man imagination to God -unless perchance they mean that God, out of consid­ eration for the human imagination, arranged all things in the way that men could most easily imagine. And perhaps they will find no obstacle in the fact that there are any number of things that far surpass our imagination, and a considerable number that confuse the imagination because of its weakness.

But I have devoted enough time to th is. Other notions, too, are nothing but modes of imagining whereby the imagination is affected in various ways, and yet the ignorant consider them as important attr ibutes of th ings because they be­ l ieve-as I have said - that all th ings were made on their behalf, and they call a thing's nature good or bad, healthy or rotten and corrupt, according to its effect on them. For instance, if the motion communicated to our nervous system by objects presented through our eyes is conducive to our feel ing of well-being, the objects which are its cause are sa id to be beautiful, whi le the objects which pro­ voke a contrary motion are called ugly. Those things that we sense through the nose are called fragrant or fetid; through the tongue, sweet or bitter, tasty or taste­ less; those that we sense by touch are called hard or soft, rough or smooth, and so on. Finally, those that we sense through our ears are said to give forth noise, sound, or harmony, the last of wh ich has driven men to such madness that they used to believe that even God delights in harmony. There are philosophers who have convinced themselves that the motions of the heavens give rise to harmony. All this goes to show that everyone's judgment is a function of the disposition of his bra in, or rather, that he mistakes for real ity the way h is imagination is affected. Hence it is no wonder -as we should note in passing- that we find so many con­ troversies arising among men, resulting finally in skepticism. For although hu­ man bodies agree in many respects, there are very many differences, and so one man thinks good what another th inks bad; what to one man is well ordered, to another is confused; what to one is pleasing, to another is displeasing, and so forth. I say no more here because th is is not the place to treat at length of th is

Part II 243

subject, and also because all are well acquainted with it from experience. Every­ body knows those sayings : "So many heads, so many opinions; "everyone is wise in h is own sight," "brains differ as much as palates; all of which show clearly that men's j udgment is a function of the disposition of the brain, and they are guided by imagination rather than intellect. For if men understood th ings, all that I have put forward would be found, if not attractive, at any rate convincing, as Mathe­ matics attests.

We see therefore that all the notions whereby the common people are wont to expla in Nature are merely modes of imagining, and denote not the nature of any­ thing but only the constitution of the imagination. And because these notions have names as if they were the names of entities existing independently of the imagination I call them "entities of imagination" [entia imaginationis] rather than "entities of reason" [entia rationis] . So all arguments drawn from such notions against me can be easily refuted. For many are wont to argue on the following l ines: If everything has followed from the necessity of God's most perfect nature, why does Nature display so many imperfections, such as rottenness to the point of putridity, nauseating ugl iness, confusion, evil , sin, and so on? But, as I have just pointed out, they are easily refuted. For the perfection of things should be mea­ sured solely from their own nature and power; nor are things more or less perfect to the extent that they please or offend human senses, serve or oppose human in­ terests. As to those who ask why God did not create men in such a way that they should be governed solely by reason, I make only this reply, that he lacked not material for creating all things from the highest to the lowest degree of perfection; or, to speak more accurately, the laws of his nature were so comprehensive as to suffice for the production of everything that can be conceived by an infinite in­ tellect, as I proved in Propos ition 1 6.

These are the misconceptions which I undertook to deal with at this point. Any other misconception of this kind can be corrected by everyone with a l i ttle re­ flection.

PART II

OF THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND

I now pass on to the explication ofthose things that must necessarily have followed from the essence of God, the eternal and infinite Being; not indeed all of them­ for we proved in Proposition 16, Part I that from his essence there must follow in­ finite things in infinite ways- but only those things that can lead us as it were by the hand to the knowledge of the human mind and its utmost blessedness.

244 Ethics

Defini ti ons

I . By "body" I understand a mode that expresses in a definite and determinate way God's essence insofar as he is considered as an extended thing. (See Cor. Pro 2 5 , I . )

2. I say that there pertains to the essence of a th ing that which, when granted, the th ing is necessarily posited, and by the annulling of which the thing is neces­ sarily annulled; or that without which the thing can neither be nor be conceived, and, vice versa, that which cannot be or be conceived without the th ing.

3 . By idea I understand a conception of the Mind which the Mind forms be­ cause it is a th inking thing.

Explication I say "conception" rather than "perception" because the term per­ ception seems to indicate that the Mind is passive to its object whereas concep­ tion seems to express an activity of the Mind.

4. By an adequate idea I mean an idea which, insofar as i t is considered in it­ self without relation to its objec� has all the properties, that is, intrinsic charac­ teristics, of a true idea [ideatum].

Explication I say " intrinsic" so as to exclude the extrinsic characteristic-to wit the agreement of the idea with that of which i t is an idea.

5 . Duration is the indefinite continuance of existing.

Explication I say "indefinite" because it can in no wise be determined through the nature of the existing thing, nor again by the thing's efficient cause which nec­ essarily posits, but does not annul, the existence of the thing.

6. By reality and perfection I mean the same th ing. 7. By individual things [res singulares] I mean things that are finite and have

a determinate existence. If several individual things concur in one act in such a way as to be all together the simultaneous cause of one effect, I consider them all , in that respect, as one individual.

Axi oms

I. The essence of man does not involve necessary existence; that is, from the order of Nature it is equally possible that a certain man exists or does not exist.

2 . Man thinks. 3 . Modes of thinking such as love, desire, or whatever emotions are designated

by name, do not occur unless there is in the same individual the idea of the thing loved, desired, etc. But the idea can be without any other mode of thinking.

4. We feel a certain body to be affected in many ways. 5. We do not feel or perceive any individual things except bodies and modes

of th inking. [N .B . : For Postulates, see after Proposition 1 3 . ]

Part II, Proposition 3 245

PROPOSITION 1 Thought is an attribute of God; i.e., God is a thinking thing.

Proof Individual thoughts, or this and that thought, are modes expressing the nature of God in a definite and determinate way (Cor. Pr. 2 5 , I) . Therefore, there belongs to God (Def. 5, I) an attribute the conception of which is involved in all individual thoughts, and through which they are conceived. Thought, therefore, is one of God's infinite attributes, expressing the eternal and infinite essence of God (Def. 6, I); that is, God is a th inking thing.

Scholium This Proposition is also evident from the fact that we can conceive of an infinite thinking being. For the more things a thinking being can think, the more reality or perfection we conceive it to have. Therefore, a being that can think infinite things in infinite ways is by virtue of its th inking necessarily infinite. Since therefore by merely considering Thought we conceive an infinite being, Thought is necessarily one of the infinite attributes of God (DeE;. 4 and 6, I) , as we set out to prove.

PROPOSITION 2 Extension is an attribute of God; i.e., God is an extended thing.

Proof This Proposition is proved in the same way as the preceding proposition .

PROPOSITION 3 In God there is necessarily the idea both of his essence and of everything that nec­ essarily follows {rom his essence.

Proof For God can (Pr. l , II) th ink infinite things in infinite ways, or (what is the same thing, by Pro 1 6, I) can form the idea of his own essence and of everything that necessarily follows from it. But all that is in God's power necessarily exists (Pr. 35, I ) . Therefore, such an idea necessarily exists, and only in God (Pr. 1 5 , I) .

Scholium By God's power the common people understand free will and God's right over all th ings that are, which things are therefore commonly cons idered as contingent. They say that God has power to destroy everything and bring it to nothing. Furthermore, they frequently compare God's power with that of kings. But this doctrine we have refuted in Corso I and 2, Pr. 32, I; and in Pr. 1 6, I, we proved that God acts by the same necessity whereby he understands himself; that is, j ust as it follows from the necessity of the divine Nature (as i s universally agreed) that God understands himself, by that same necessity it also follows that God acts infinitely in infinite ways. Again, we showed in Pr. 34, I that God's power is noth­ ing but God's essence in action, and so it is as impossible for us to conceive that God does not act as that God does not exist. Furthermore if one wished to pursue the matter, I could easily show here that the power that common people assign to God is not only a human power (which shows that they conceive God as a man or l ike a man) but also involves negation of power. But I am reluctant to hold forth

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so often on the same subject. I merely request the reader most earnestly to reflect again and again on what we said on this subject in Part I from Proposition 16 to the end. For nobody will rightly apprehend what I am trying to say unless he takes great care not to confuse God's power with a king's human power or right.

PROPOSITION 4 The idea of God, {rom which infinite things follow in infinite ways, must be one, and one only.

Proof Infinite intellect comprehends nothing but the attributes of God and h is affections (Pr. 30, I). But God is one, and one only (Cor. I , Pro 14 , I). Therefore, the idea of God, from which infinite things follow in infinite ways, must be one, and one only.

PROPOSITION 5 The formal being' of ideas recogniiZes God as its cause only insofar as he is consid­ ered as a thinking thing, and not insofar as he is explicated by any other attribute; that is, the ideas both of God's attributes and of individual things recognize as their efficient cause not the things of which they are ideas, that is, the things perceived, but God himself insofar as he is a thinking thing.

Proof This is evident from Pro 3, II. For there our conclusion that God can form the idea of h is own essence and of everything that necessarily follows therefrom was inferred solely from God's being a thinking thing, and not from his being the object of his own idea. Therefore, the formal being of ideas recognizes God as its cause insofar as he is a thinking thing. But there is another proof, as follows. The formal being of ideas is a mode of th inking (as is self-evident); that is (Cor. Pro 2 5 , I ) , a mode which expresses in a definite manner the nature of God insofar a s he i s a thinking thing, and so does no t involve (Pr. 1 0, I) the conception of any other attribute of God. Consequently (Ax. 4, I), it is the effect of no other attribute but thought; and so the formal being of ideas recognizes God as its cause only inso­ far as he is considered as a thinking thing.

PROPOSITION 6 The modes of any attribute have God for their cause only insofar as he is considered under that attribute, and not insofar as he is considered under any other attribute.

Proof Each attribute is conceived through itself independently of any other (Pr. 1 0, I). Therefore, the modes of any attribute involve the conception of their own attribute, and not that of any other. Therefore, they have God for their cause only insofar as he is considered under the attribute of which they are modes, and not insofar as he is considered under any other attribute (Ax. 4, I).

Corollary Hence it follows that the formal being of things that are not modes of thinking does not follow from the nature of God by reason of h is first having

1 [ I e , their eXIStence as Ideas -M L.M ]

Part II, Proposition 7 247

known them; rather, the objects of ideas follow and are inferred from their own attributes in the same way and by the same necessity as we have shown ideas to follow from the attribute of Thought.

PROPOSITION 7 The order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of things.

Proof This is evident from Ax. 4, I; for the idea of what is caused depends on the knowledge of the cause of which it is the effect.

Corollary Hence it follows that God's power of th inking is on par with h is power of acting. That is, whatever follows formally from the infinite nature of God, all this follows from the idea of God as an object of thought in God according to the same order and connection.

Scholium At this poin t, before proceeding further, we should recall to mind what I have demonstrated above-that whatever can be perceived by infinite in­ tellect as constituting the essence of substance pertains entirely to the one sole substance. Consequently, th inking substance and extended substance are one and the same substance, comprehended now under th is attribute, now under that. So, too, a mode of Extension and the idea of that mode are one and the same thing, expressed in two ways. This truth seems to have been gl impsed by some of the Hebrews,2 who hold that God, God's intellect, and the things un­ derstood by God are one and the same. For example, a circle existing in Nature and the idea of the existing circle-which is also in God-are one and the same thing, expl icated through different attributes. And so, whether we conceive Na­ ture under the attribute of Extension or under the attribute of Though t or under any other attribute, we find one and the same order, or one and the same con­ nection of causes- that is, the same th ings following one another. When I said that God is the cause, e.g. , of the idea of a circle only insofar as he is a thinking thing, and of a circle only insofar as he is an extended thing, my reason was sim­ ply this, that the formal being of the idea of a circle can be perceived only through another mode of th inking as its proximate cause, and that mode through another, and so ad infinitum, with the resul t that as long as things are considered as modes of thought, we must expl icate the order of the whole of Nature, or the connec­ tion of causes, through the attribute of Thought alone; and insofar as th ings are considered as modes of Extension, again the order of the whole of Nature must be explicated through the attribute of Extension only. The same appl ies to other attributes. Therefore God, insofar as he consists of infinite attributes, is in fact the cause of th ings as they are in themselves. For the present, I cannot give a clearer explanation.

2 [The reference IS most hkely to Moses Malmomdes. The Guide of tits Perplexed, Part 1 , Chapter 68 -5 F ]

248 Ethics

PROPOSITION 8 The ideas of nonexisting individual things or modes must be comprehended in the infinite idea of God in the same way as the fonnal essences of individual things or modes are contained in the attributes of God.

Proof This proposition is obvious from the preceding one, but may be under­ stood more clearly from the preceding Schol ium.

Corollary Hence it follows that as l ong as individual things do not exist except insofar as they are comprehended in the attributes of God, their being as objects of thought- that is, their ideas- do not exist except insofar as the infinite idea of God exists; and when individual things are sa id to exist not only insofar as they are comprehended in the attributes of God but also insofar as they are said to have duration, their ideas also will involve the existence through which they are said to have duration.

Scholium Should anyone want an example for a clearer understanding of th is matter, I can think of none at all that would adequately explicate the point with

which I am here dealing, for it has no parallel. Still, I shall

G try to illustrate it as best I can . The nature of a circle is such that the rectangles formed from the segmen ts of its intersecting chords are equal . Hence an infinite number

D E of equal rectangles a re contained in a circle, but none of them can be said to exist except insofar as the circle ex­ ists, nor again can the idea of any one of these rectangles be said to exist except insofar as it is comprehended in the idea of the circle. Now of this infinite number of inter­

secting chords let two, E and 0, exist. Now indeed their ideas also exist not only insofar as they are merely comprehended in the idea of the circle but also insofar as they involve the existence of those rectangles, with the resul t that they are dis­ tinguished from the other ideas of the other rectangles.

PROPOSITION 9 The idea of an individual thing existing in actuality has God for its cause not in­ sofar as he is infinite but insofar as he is considered as affected by another idea of a thing existing in actuality, of which God is the cause insofar as he is affected by a third idea, and so ad infinitum.

Proof The idea of an individual actually existing thing is an individual mode of th inking distinct from other modes (Cor. and Sch. Pr. 8, II), and so (Pr. 6, II) it has God as its cause only insofar as he is a th inking thing. But not (Pr. 28, I) in­ sofar as he is a th inking thing absolutely, but insofar as he is considered as affected by another definite mode of th inking. And of th is latter God is also the cause in­ sofar as he is affected by another definite mode of th inking, and so ad infinitum. But the order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of causes (Pr. 7, II) . Therefore, an individual idea is caused by another idea; i .e . , God

Part II, Proposition 10 249

insofar as he is considered as affected by another idea. And this last idea is caused by God, insofar as he is affected by yet another idea, and so ad infinitum.

Corollary Whatsoever happens in the individual object of any idea, knowledge of it is in God only insofar as he has the idea of that object.

Proof Whatsoever happens in the object of any idea, the idea of it is in God (Pr. 3, II) not insofar as he is infinite, but insofar as he is considered as affected by an­ other idea of an individual thing (preceding Pr. ) . But the order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of thing. (Pr. 7, II) . Therefore, the knowledge of what happens in an individual object is in God only insofar as he has the idea of that object.

PROPOSITION 1 0 The being of substance does not pertain to the essence of man; i.e., substance does not constitute the form [forma] of man.

Proof The being of substance involves necessary existence (Pr. 7, I). So if the being of substance pertained to the essence of man, man would necessarily be granted together with the granting of substance (Def. 2, II) and consequently man would necessarily exist, which is absurd (Ax. I, II). Therefore . . . etc.

Scholium This Proposition is also proved from Pr. 5, I , which states that there cannot be two substances of the same nature. Now since many men can exist, that which constitutes the form of man is not the being of substance. This Proposition is furthermore evident from the other properties of substance- that substance is by its own nature infinite, immutable, indivisible, etc . , as everyone can easily see.

Corollary Hence it follows that the essence of man is constituted by definite modifications of the attributes of God.

Proof For the being of substance does not perta in to the essence of man (pre­ ceding Pr. ) , which must therefore be someth ing that is in God, and which can neither be nor be conceived without God; i .e . , an affection or mode (Cor. Pro 2 5 , I ) which expresses the nature o f God in a definite and determinate way.

Scholium All must surely admit that nothing can be or be conceived without God. For all are agreed that God is the sole cause of all th ings, both of their essence and oftheir existence; that is, God is the cause of things not only in respect of their coming into being [secundum fieri ] , as they say, but also in respect of their being. But at the same time many assert that that without which a thing can neither be nor be conceived pertains to the essence of the thing, and so they believe that ei­ ther the nature of God pertains to the essence of created things or that created things can either be or be conceived without God; or else, more probably, they hold no consistent opinion . I th ink that the reason for this is their failure to ob­ serve the proper order of philosoph ical inquiry. For the divine nature, which they should have considered before all else- it being prior both in cognition and in

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Nature- they have taken to be last in the order of cognition, and the th ings that are called objects of sense they have taken as prior to everyth ing. Hence it has come about that in considering natural phenomena, they have completely disre­ garded the divine nature. And when thereafter they turned to the contemplation of the divine natu re, they could find no place in their th inking for those fictions on which they had built their natural science, since these fictions were of no avail in attaining knowledge of the divine nature. So it is l i ttle wonder that they have contradicted themselves on all s ides.

But 1 pass over these points, for my present purpose is restricted to expla in­ ing why I have not said tha t that without which a th ing can neither be nor be perceived pertains to the essence of the thing. My reason is that individual th ings can neither be nor be conceived without God, and yet God does not per­ tain to their essence. But I did say that that necessarily constitutes the essence of a th ing which, when posited, posits the th ing, and by the annull ing of which the th ing is annulled; i .e., that without which the thing can neither be nor be conceived, and vice versa, that which can neither be nor be conceived without the th ing.

PROPOSITION 1 1 That which constitutes the actual being of the human mind is basically nothing else but the idea of an individual actually existing thing.

Proof The essence of man (Cor. Pro 10 , II) is constituted by definite modes of the attributes of God, to wit (Ax. 2, II), modes of thinking. Of all these modes the idea is prior in natu re (Ax. 3, II), and when the idea is granted, the other modes­ modes to which the idea is prior by nature- must be in the same individual (Ax. 3, II) . And so the idea is that which baSically constitutes the being of the human mind. But not the idea of a nonexisting thing; for then (Cor. Pr. 8, II) the idea it­ self could not be said to exist. Therefore, it is the idea of an actually existing th ing. But not the idea of an infinite thing, for an infinite th ing (Prs. 21 and 22, I) must always necessarily exist, and this is absurd (Ax. I, II). Therefore, that which first constitutes the actual being of the human mind is the idea of an individual actu­ ally existing thing.

Corollary Hence it follows that the human mind is part of the infinite intellect of God; and therefore when we say that the human mind perceives this or that, we are saying noth ing else but this: that God - not insofar as he is infinite but in­ sofar as he is explicated through the nature of the human mind, that is, insofar as he constitutes the essence of the human mind-has this or that idea. And when we say that God has this or that idea not only insofar as he constitutes the essence of the human mind but also insofar as he has the idea of another th ing simulta­ neously with the human mind, then we are saying that the human mind perceives a th ing partially or inadequately.

Scholium At this point our readers will no doubt find themselves in some diffi­ culty and will think of many things that will give them pause. So 1 ask them to

Part II, Proposition 1 3 2 5 1

proceed slowly step b y step with me, a n d to postpone judgment until they have read to the end.

PROPOSITION 1 2 Whatever happens in the obiect of the idea constituting the human mind is bound to be perceived by the human mind; i .e. , the idea of that thing will necessarily be in the human mind. That is to say, if the obiect of the idea constituting the human mind is a body, nothing can happen in that body without its being perceived by the mind.

Proof Whatever happens in the object of any idea, knowledge thereof is neces­ sarily in God (Cor. Pro 9, II) insofar as he is considered as affected by the idea of that object; that is (Pr. I I , II), insofar as he constitutes the mind of something. So whatever happens in the object of the idea constituting the human mind, knowl­ edge thereof is necessarily in God insofar as he constitutes the nature of the hu­ man mind; that is (Cor. Pro I I , II), knowledge of that th ing is necessarily in the mind; i .e . , the mind perceives it.

Scholium This Proposition is also obvious, and is more clearly understood from Sch . Pro 7, II, above.

PROPOSITION 1 3 The obiect of the idea constituting the human mind is the body-i.e., a definite mode of extension actually existing, and nothing else.

Proof If the body were not the object of the human mind, the ideas of the af­ fections of the body would not be in God (Cor. Pro 9, II) insofar as he constitutes our mind, but insofar as he constitutes the mind of another thing; that is (Cor. Pr. I I , II), the ideas of the affections of the body would not be in our mind. But (Ax. 4, II) we do have ideas of the affections of a body. Therefore, the object of the idea constituting the human mind is a body, a body actually existing (Pr. I I , II). Again, if there were another object of the mind apart from the body, since nothing exists from which some effect does not follow (Pr. 36, I), there would necessarily have to be in our mind the idea of some effect of it (Pr. 1 2 , II). But (Ax. 5, II) there is no such idea. Therefore, the object of our mind is an existing body, and noth ing else.

Corollary Hence it follows that man consists of mind and body, and the human body exists according as we sense i t.

Scholium From the above we understand not only that the human Mind is united to the Body but also what is to be understood by the union of Mind and Body. But nobody can understand this union adequately or distinctly unless he first gains adequate knowledge of the nature of our body. For what we have so far demonstrated is of quite general appl ication, and appl ies to men no more than to other individuals, which are all animate, albeit in different degrees. For there is necessarily in God an idea of each thing whatever, of which idea God is the cause in the same way as he is the cause of the idea of the human body. And so what-

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ever we have asserted of the idea of the human body must necessarily be asserted of the idea of each thing. Yet we cannot deny, too, that ideas differ among them­ selves as do their objects, and that one is more excellen t and contains more real­ ity than another, j ust as the object of one idea is more excellent than that of another and contains more reality. Therefore, in order to determine the differ­ ence between the human mind and others and in what way it surpasses them, we have to know the nature of its object (as we have said), that is, the nature of the human body. Now I cannot here explain th is nature, nor is it essential for the points that I intend to demonstrate. But I will make this general assertion, that in proportion as a body is more apt than other bodies to act or be acted upon simul­ taneously in many ways, so is its mind more apt than other minds to perceive many things simul taneously; and in proportion as the actions of one body depend on it­ self alone and the less that other bodies concur with it in its actions, the more apt is its mind to understand distinctly. From this we can real ize the superiority of one mind over others, and we can furthermore see why we have only a very confused knowledge of our body, and many other fucts wh ich I shall deduce from this ba­ sis in what follows. Therefore, I have thought it worthwhile to explicate and demonstrate these things more carefully. To this end there must be a brief pref­ ace concerning the nature of bodies.

Axiom 1 All bodies are either in motion or at rest. Axiom 2 Each single body can move at varying speeds. Lemma 1 Bodies are distinguished from one another in respect of motion-and­ rest, quickness and slowness, and not in respect of substance.

Proof The first part of this Lemma I take to be self-evident. As to bodies not be­ ing distinguished in respect of substance, this is evident from both Pr. 5 and Pr. 8, Part I, and still more clearly from Sch. Pro 1 5 , Part I.

Lemma 2 All bodies agree in certain respects. Proof All bodies agree in this, that they involve the conception of one and the same attribute (Def I , II), and also in that they may move at varying speeds, and may be absolutely in motion or absolutely at rest.

Lemma 3 A body in motion or at rest must have been determined to motion or rest by another body, which l ikewise has been determined to motion or rest by an­ other body, and that body by another, and so ad infinitum.

Proof Bodies are individual thing> (Def I, II) which are distinguished from one another in respect of motion-and-rest (Lemma I) , and so (Pr. 28, I) each body must have been determined to motion or rest by another individual thing, namely, another body (Pr. 6, II), which is also in motion or at rest (Ax. I ) . But this body again-by the same reasoning- could not have been in motion or at rest unless it had been determined to motion or rest by another body, and this body again­ by the same reasoning-by another body, and so on, ad infinitum.

Part II, Proposition 1 3 2 5 3

Corollary Hence it follows that a body in motion will continue to move until it is determined to rest by another body, and a body at rest continues to be at rest un­ til i t is determined to move by another body. This, too, is self-evident; for when I suppose, for example, that a body A is at rest and I give no consideration to other moving bodies, I can assert nothing about body A but that it is at rest. Now if it should thereafter happen that body A is in motion, th is surely could not have re­ sulted from the fact that it was at rest; for from that fact nothing else could have followed than that body A should be at rest. If on the other hand A were supposed to be in motion, as l ong as we consider only A, we can affirm nothing of it but that it is in motion. If it should thereafter happen that A should be at rest, th is surely could not have resulted from its previous motion; for from its motion nothing else could have followed but that A was in motion. So this comes about from a thing that was not in A, namely, an external cause by wh ich the moving body A was de­ termined to rest.

Axiom I All the ways in which a body is affected by another body follow from the nature of the affected body together with the nature of the body affecting it, so that one and the same body may move in various ways in accordance with the various natures of the bodies causing its motion; and, on the other hand, different bodies may be caused to move in different ways by one and the same body.

Axiom 2 When a moving body coll ides with a body at restand is unable to cause i t to move, it is reflected so as to continue its motion, and the angle between the line of motion of the reflection B and the plane of the body at rest with which it has col-l ided is equal to the angle between the l ine of incidence of motion and the said plane. So far we have been discussing the simplest bodies, those which are distinguished from one another solely by motion-and-rest, qUickness and slowness. Now let us advance to composite bodies.

Definition When a number of bodies of the same or different magnitude form close contact with one another through the pressure of other bodies upon them, or if they are moving at the same or different rates of speed so as to preserve an unvarying relation of movement among themselves, these bodies are said to be united with one another and all together to form one body or individual th ing, which is distinguished from other things through this union of bodies.

Axiom 3 The degree of difficulty with which the parts of an individual th ing or composite body can be made to change their position and consequently the de­ gree of difficulty with which the individual takes on different shapes is propor­ tional to the extent of the surn.ce areas along which they are in close contact. Hence bodies whose parts maintain close contact along large areas of their sur­ faces I term hard; those whose parts maintain contact along small surface areas I term soft, while those whose parts are in a state of motion among themselves I term liquid.

254 Ethics

Lemma 4 Iffrom a body, or an individual thing composed ofa number of bod­ ies, certa in bodies are separated, and at the same time a l ike number of other bod­ ies of the same nature take their place, the individual th ing will retain its nature as before, without any change in its form [{onna] .

Proof Bodies a re no t distinguished in respect of substance (Lemma I ) . That which constitu tes the form of the individual th ing consists in a union of bodies (preceding definition). But this union, by hypothesis, is retained in spite of the continuous change of component bodies. Therefore, the individual th ing will re­ tain its own nature as before, both in respect of substance and of mode.

Lemma 5 If the parts of an individual th ing become greater or smaller, but so proportionately that they all preserve the same mutual relation of motion-and-rest as before, the individual th ing will l ikewise reta in its own nature as before with­ out any change in its form.

Proof The reasoning is the same as in the preceding Lemma.

Lemma 6 If certain bodies composing an individual th ing are made to change the existing direction of their motion, but in such a way that they can continue their motion and keep the same mutual relation as before, the individual th ing will l ikewise preserve its own nature without any change of form.

Proof This is evident; for, by hypothesis, the individual th ing retains all that we, in defining it, asserted as constituting its form.

Lemma 7 Furthermore, the individual thing so composed reta ins its own na­ ture, whether as a whole it is moving or at rest, and in whatever direction it moves, provided that each constituent part retains its own motion and continues to com­ municate this motion to the other parts.

Proof This is evident from its definition, which you will find preceding Lemma 4.

Scholium We thus see how a composite individual can be affected in many ways and yet preserve its nature. Now previously we have conceived an individual th ing composed solely of bodies distingu ished from one another only by motion­ and-rest and speed of movement; that is, an individual th ing composed of the s im­ plest bodies. If we now conceive another individual thing composed of several individual things of different natures, we shall find that this can be affected in many other ways while still preserving its nature. For s ince each one of its parts is composed of several bodies, each single part can therefore (preceding Lemma), without any change in i ts nature, move with varying degrees of speed and conse­ quently communicate its own motion to other parts with varying degrees of speed. Now if we go on to conceive a th ird kind of individual things composed of this second kind, we shall find that it can be affected in many other ways without any

Part II, Proposition 1 5 2 5 5

change i n its form. I f w e thus continue t o infinity, w e shall readily conceive the whole of Nature as one individual whose parts- that is, all the constituent bodies­ vary in infinite ways without any change in the individual as a whole.

If my intention had been to write a full treatise on body, I should have had to expand my expl ications and demonstrations. But I have already declared a differ­ ent intention, and the only reason for my dealing with this subject is that I may readily deduce therefrom what I have set out to prove.

P os tula tes

I . The human body is composed of very many individual parts of different na­ tures, each of which is extremely complex.

2 . Of the individual components of the human body, some are l iquid, some are soft, and some are hard.

3 . The individual components of the human body, and consequently the hu­ man body itself, are affected by external bodies in a great many ways.

4. The human body needs for its preservation a great many other bodies, by which, as it were [quasi], i t is continually regenerated.

5. When a l iquid part of the human body is determined by an external body to impinge frequently on another part which is soft, i t changes the surface of that part and impresses on it certain traces of the external body acting upon i t.

6 . The human body can move external bodies and dispose them in a great many ways.

PROPOSITION 1 4 The human mind is capable o f perceiving a great many things, and this capacity will vary in proportion to the variety of states which its body can assume.

Proof The human body (Posts. 3 and 6) is affected by external bodies in a great many ways and is so structured that it can affect external bodies in a great many ways. But the human mind must perceive all that happens in the human body (Pr. 12, II). Therefore, the human mind is capable of perceiving very many things, and . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 1 5 The idea which constitutes the formal being of the human mind is not simple, but composed of very many ideas.

Proof The idea which constitutes the formal being of the human mind is the idea of the body (Pr. 1 3, II), which is composed of a great number of very com­ posite individual parts (Postulate I ) . But in God there is necessarily the idea of every individual component part (Cor. Pro 8, II) . Therefore (Pr. 7, II), the idea of the human body is composed of these many ideas of the component parts.

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PROPOSITION 1 6 The idea of any mode wherein the human body is affected by external bodies must involve the nature of the human body together with the nature of the external body.

Proof All the modes wherein a body is affected follow from the nature of the body affected together with the nature of the affecting body (Ax. I after Cor. Lemma 3). Therefore, the idea of these modes will necessarily involve the nature of both bodies (Ax. 4, I). So the idea of any mode wherein the human body is af­ fected by an external body involves the nature of the human body and the exter­ nal body.

Corollary 1 Hence it follows that the human mind perceives the nature of very many bodies along with the nature of its own body.

Corollary 2 Secondly, the ideas that we have of external bodies indicate the con­ stitution of our own body more than the nature of external bodies. This I have ex­ plained with many examples in Appendix, Part I .

PROPOSITION 1 7 If the human body is affected in a way [modo] that involves the nature of some ex­ ternal body, the human mind will regard that same external body as actually exist­ ing, or as present to itself, until the human body undergoes a further modification which excludes the existence or presence of the said body.

Proof This is evident; for as long as the human body is thus affected, so long will the human mind (Pr. 12, II) regard this affection of the body; that is (by the pre­ ceding Proposition), so long will it have the idea of a mode existing in actuality, an idea involving the nature of an external body; that is, an idea which does not exclude but posits the existence or presence of the nature of the external body. So the mind (Cor. I of the preceding proposition) will regard the external body as ac­ tually existing, or as present, until . . . etc.

Corollary The mind is able to regard as present external bodies by which the human body has been once affected, even if they do not exist and are not present.

Proof When external bodies so determine the fluid parts ofthe human body that these frequently impinge on the softer paris, they change the surfaces of these softer paris (Post. 5 ) . Hence it comes about (Ax. 2 after Cor. Lemma 3) that the fluid paris are reflected therefrom in a manner different from what was previously the case; and thereafter, again coming into contact with the said changed surfuces in the course of their own spontaneous motion, they are reflected in the same way as when they were impelled toward those surfaces by external bodies. Conse­ quently, in continuing this reflected motion they affect the human body in the same manner, which manner will again be the object of thought in the mind (Pr. 1 2 , II); that is (Pr. 1 7, II), the mind will again regard the external body as present. This will be repeated whenever the fluid parts of the human body come into con­ tact with those same surfuces in the course of their own spontaneous motion. Therefore, although the external bodies by wh ich the human body has once been

Part II, Proposition 18 2 57

affected may no longer exist, the mind will regard them as present whenever th is activity of the body is repeated.

Scholium So we see how it comes about that we regard as present things which are not so, as often happens. Now it is possible that there are other causes for this fact, but it is enough for me at this point to have indicated one cause through which I can explicate the matter j ust as if I had demonstrated it through ill; true cause. Yet I do not think that I am far from the truth , since all the postulates that I have assumed contain scarcely anything inconsistent with experience; and after demonstrating that the human body exisll; just as we sense it (Cor. Pro 1 3 , II), we may not doubt experience.

In addition (preceding Cor. and Cor. 2 Pr. 1 6, II), this gives a clear under­ standing of the difference between the idea, e.g., of Peter wh ich constitutes the essence of Peter's mind, and on the other hand the idea of Peter which is in an­ other man, say Paul. The former directly explicates the essence of Peter's body, and does not involve existence except as l ong as Peter exisll;. The latter indicates the constitution of Paul's body rather than the nature of Peter; and so, while that constitution of Paul's body continues to be, Paul's mind will regard Peter as pres­ ent to him although Peter may not be in existence. Further, to retain the usual terminology, we will assign the word " images" [imagines] to those affections of the human body the ideas of which set forth external bodies as if they were present to us, although they do not represent shapes. And when the mind regards bodies in this way, we shall say that it "imagines" [imaginari ] .

At this poin t, to begin my analysis of error, I should l ike you to note that the imaginations of the mind, looked at in themselves, contain no error; i .e. , the mind does not err from the fact that it imagines, but only insofar as it is considered to lack the idea which excludes the existence of those things which it imagines to be present to ill;elf. For if the mind, in imagining nonexisting things to be present to it, knew at the same time that those things did not exist in fact, it would surely im­ pute this power of imagining not to the defect but to the strength of ill; own nature, especially if this faculty of imagining were to depend solely on ill; own nature; that i s (Def. 7, I ) , if this faculty of imagining were free.

PROPOSITION 1 8 If the human body has once been affected by two or more bodies at the same time, when the mind afterward imagines one of them, it will straightway remember the others too.

Proof The mind imagines (preceding Cor.) any given body for the following reason, that the human body is affected and conditioned by the impressions of an external body in the same way as i t was affected when certa in of i ll; parll; were acted upon by the external body. But, by hypothesis, the human mind was at that time conditioned in such a way that the mind imagined two bodies at the same time. Therefore, it will now also imagine two bodies at the same time, and the mind, in imagining one of them, will stra ightway remember the other as well.

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Scholium Hence we clearly understand what memory is. It is simply a l inking of ideas involving the nature of th ings outside the human body, a l inking which occurs in the mind parallel to the order and l inking of the affections of the hu­ man body. I say, firstly, that i t is only the l inking of those ideas that involve the na­ ture of things outside the human body, not of those ideas that explicate the nature of the said things. For they are in fact (Pr. 16, II) ideas of the affections of the hu­ man body which involve the nature both of the human body and of external bod­ ies. Secondly, my purpose in saying that th is l inking occurs in accordance with the order and l inking of the affections of the human body is to distinguish it from the l inking of ideas in accordance with the order ofthe intellect whereby the mind perceives things through their first causes, and which is the same in all men.

Furthermore, from this we clearly understand why the mind, from th inking of one thing, should straightway pass on to th inking of another th ing which has no l ikeness to the first. For example, from th inking of the word "pomum" [apple] a Roman will straightway fall to th inking of the fruit, which has no l ikeness to that articulated sound nor anything in common with it other than that the man's body has often been affected by them both; that is, the man has often heard the word "pomum" while seeing the fruit. So everyone will pass on from one thought to an­ other according as habit in each case has arranged the images in h is body. A sol­ dier, for example, seeing the tracks of a horse in the sand will straightway pass on from th inking of the horse to th inking of the rider, and then thinking of war, and so on. But a peasant, from thinking of a horse, will pass on to th inking of a plough , and of a field, and so on. So every person will pass on from thinking of one thing to thinking of another according as he is in the habit of j oining together and link­ ing the images of things in various ways.

PROPOSITION 1 9 The human mind has n o knowledge of the body, nor does i t know i t to exist, except through ideas of the affections Iry which the body is affected.

Proof The human mind is the very idea or knowledge of the human body (Pr. 1 3 , II), and this idea is in God (Pr. 9, II) insofar as he is considered as affected by another idea of a particular thing; or, since (Post. 4) the human body needs very many other bodies by which it is continually regenerated, and the order and con­ nection of ideas is the same (Pr. 7, 11) as the order and connection of causes, this idea is in God insofar as he is considered as affected by the ideas of numerous par­ ticular things. Therefore, God has the idea of the human body, or knows the hu­ man body, insofar as he is affected by numerous other ideas, and not insofar as he constitutes the nature of the human mind; that is (Cor. Pro 1 1 , 11), the human mind does not know the human body. But the ideas of the affections of the body are in God insofar as he does constitute the nature of human mind; i .e . , the human mind perceives these affections (Pr. 12 , II) and consequently perceives the human body (Pr. 16, II), and perceives it as actually existing (Pr. 17, II) . Therefore, it is only to that extent that the human mind perceives the human body.

Part II, Proposition 22 259

PROPOSITION 20 There is also in God the idea or knowledge of the human mind, and this follows in God and is related to God in the same way as the idea or knowledge of the human body.

Proof Thought is an attribute of God (Pr. I , II), and so (Pr. 3 , II) the idea of both Thought and its affections-and consequently of the human mind as well -must necessarily be in God. N ow this idea or knowledge of the mind does not follow in God insofar as he is infinite, but insofar as he is affected by another idea of a par­ ticular th ing (Pr. 9, II). But the order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of causes (Pr. 7, II) . Therefore, the idea or knowledge of the mind follows in God and is related to God in the same way as the idea or knowl­ edge of the body.

PROPOSITION 2 1 This idea of the mind is united to the mind i n the same way as the mind is united to the body.

Proof That the mind is united to the body we have shown from the fact that the body is the object of the mind (Prs. 12 and 1 3 , II), and so by the same reasoning the idea of the mind must be united to its object- that is, to the mind itself- in the same way as the mind is united to the body.

Scholium This proposition is understood far more clearly from Sch. Pro 7, II. There we showed that the idea of the body and the body itself- that is (Pr. 1 3 , II), mind and body-are one and the same individual thing, conceived now under the attribute of Thought and now under the attribute of Extension. Therefore, the idea of the mind and the mind itself are one and the same thing, conceived under one and the same attribute, namely, Thought. The idea of the mind, I repeat, and the mind itself follow in God by the same necessity and from the same power of thought. For in fact the idea of the mind -that is, the idea of an idea- is nothing other than the form [fonna] of the idea insofar as the idea is considered as a mode of thinking without relation to its object. For as soon as anyone knows someth ing, by that very fact he knows that he knows, and at the same time he knows that he knows that he knows, and so on ad infinitum. But I will deal with this subject later.

PROPOSITION 22 The human mind perceives not only the affections of the body but also the ideas of these affections.

Proof The ideas of ideas of affections follow in God and are related to God in the same way as ideas of affections, which can be proved in the same manner as Pr. 20, II. But the ideas of affections of the body are in the human mind (Pr. 1 2 , II); that i s (Cor. Pr. I I , II), in God insofar a s he constitutes the essence o f the hu­ man mind. Therefore, the ideas of these ideas will be in God insofar as he has knowledge or the idea of the human mind; that is (Pr. 2 1 , II), they will be in the

260 Ethics

human mind itself, which therefore perceives not only the affections of the body but also the ideas of these affections.

PROPOSITION 2 3 The mind does not know itself except insofar as i t perceives ideas of affections of the body.

Proof The idea or knowledge of the mind (Pr. 20, II) follows in God and is re­ lated to God in the same way as the idea or knowledge of the body. But since (Pr. 19, II) the human mind does not know the human body- that is (Cor. Pro I I , II), since the knowledge of the human body is not related to God insofar as he consti­ tutes the nature of the human mind- therefore, neither is knowledge of the mind related to God insofar as he constitutes the essence of the human mind. And so (Cor. Pr. I I , II) the human mind to that extent does not know itself. Again, the ideas ofthe affections by which the body is affected involve the nature of the human body (Pr. 16, II); that is (Pr. 1 3 , II), they are in agreement [conveniunt] with the nature of the mind. Therefore, the knowledge of these ideas will necessarily involve knowl­ edge of the mind. But (preceding Pr.) the knowledge of these ideas is in the human mind. Therefore, the human mind knows itself but only to that extent.

PROPOSITION 24 The human mind does not involve an adequate knowledge of the component parts of the human body.

Proof The component parts of the human body do not perta in to the essence of the body itself save insofar as they preserve an unvarying relation of motion with one another (Def. after Cor. Lemma 3), and not insofar as they can be considered as individual thing. apart from their relation to the human body. For the parts of the human body (Post. I) are very composite individual th ing., whose parts can be separated from the human body (Lemma 4) without impairing in any way its nature and specific reality [forma 1. and can establish a quite different relation of motion with other bodies (Ax. I after Lemma 3). Therefore (Pr. 3, II), the idea or knowledge of any component part will be in God, and will be so (Pr. 9, II) inso­ far as he is considered as affected by another idea of a particular th ing, a particu­ lar th ing which is prior in Nature's order to the part itself (Pr. 7, II). Further, the same holds good of any part of an individual component part of the human body, and so of any component part of the human body there is knowledge in God in­ sofar as he is affected by very many ideas of th ing., and not insofar as he has the idea only of the human body, that is (Pr. 1 3 , II), the idea that constitutes the na­ ture of the human mind. So (Cor. Pr. I I , II) the human mind does not involve adequate knowledge of the component parts of the human body.

PROPOSITION 2 5 The idea o f any affection of the human body does not involve a n adequare knowl­ edge of an external body.

Part II, Proposition 28 261

Proof We have shown that the idea of an affection of the human body involves the nature of an external body insofar as the external body determines the human body in some definite way (Pc. 1 6, II). But insofar as the external body is an indi­ vidual th ing that is not related to the human body, the idea or knowledge of it is in God (Pr. 9, II) insofur as God is considered as affected by the idea of another th ing which is (Pc. 7 , II) prior in nature to the said external body. Therefore, an adequate knowledge of the external body is not in God insofar as he has the idea of an affection ofthe human body; i .e . , the idea of an affection ofthe human body does not involve an adequate knowledge of an external body.

PROPOSITION 26 The human mind does not perceive any external body as actually existing except through the ideas of affections of its own body.

Proof If the human body is not affected in any way by an external body, then (Pr. 7, II) neither is the idea of the human body- that is (Pc. 1 3 , II), the human mind-affected in any way by the idea of the existence of that body; i .e., it does not in any way perceive the existence of that external body. But insofur as the hu­ man body is affected in some way by an external body, to that extent i t perceives the external body (Pr. 16, II, with Cor. I ) .

Corollary Insofar a s the human mind imagines [imaginatur] an external body, to that extent it does not have an adequate knowledge of it.

Proof When the human mind regards external bodies through the ideas of af­ fections of its own body, we say that it imagines [imaginatur] (see Sch. Pro 1 7 , II), and in no other way can the mind imagine external bodies as actually existing (preceding Pr.). Therefore, insofur as the mind imagines external bodies (Pr. 2 5 , II), i t does no t have adequate knowledge o f them.

PROPOSITION 27 The idea of any affection of the human body does not involve adequate !mowledge of the human body.

Proof Any idea whatsoever of any affection of the human body involves the na­ ture of the human body only to the extent that the human body is considered to be affected in some definite way (Pr. 1 6, II) . But insofar as the human body is an individual th ing that can be affected in many other ways, the idea . . . etc . (see Proof Pr. 2 5 , II).

PROPOSITION 28 The ideas of the affections of the human body, insofar as they are related only to the human mind, are not clear and distinct, but confused.

Proof The ideas of the affections of the human body involve the nature both of external bodies and of the human body itself (Pr. 1 6, II) , and must involve the na­ ture not only of the human body bu t also of its parts. For affections are modes in

262 Ethics

which parts of the human body (Post. 3) , and consequently the body as a whole, are affected. But (Prs. 24 and 2 5 , II) an adequate knowledge of external bodies, as also of the component parts of the human body, is not in God insofar as he is con­ s idered as affected by the human mind, but insofar as he is considered as affected by other ideas. Therefore, these ideas of affections, insofar as they are related only to the human mind, are l ike conclusions without premises; that is, as is self­ evident, confused ideas.

Scholium The idea that constitutes the nature of the human mind is likewise shown, when considered solely in itself, not to be clear and distinct, as is also the idea of the human mind and the ideas of affections of the human body insofar as they are related only to the human mind, as everyone can easily see.

PROPOSITION 29 The idea of the idea of any affection of the human body does not involve adequate knowledge of the human mind.

Proof The idea of an affection of the human body (Pr. 27, II) does not involve adequate knowledge of the body itself; in other words, it does not adequately express the nature of the body; that is (Pr. 1 3 , II), it does not adequately agree [con­ venit] with the nature of the mind. So (Ax. 6, I) the idea of this idea does not adequately express the nature of the human mind; i .e., it does not involve an ade­ quate knowledge of it.

Corollary Hence it follows that whenever the human mind perceives things af­ ter the common order of nature, it does not have an adequate knowledge of itself, nor of its body, nor of external bodies, but only a confused and fragmentary knowl­ edge. For the mind does not know itself save insofar as i t perceives ideas of the af­ fections of the body (Pr. 23 , II) . Now it does not perceive its own body (Pr. 19 , II) except through ideas of affections of the body, and also it is only through these af­ fections that it perceives external bodies (Pr. 26, II) . So insofar as it has these ideas, i t has adequate knowledge neither of itself (Pr. 29, II) nor of its own body (Pr. 27, II) nor of external bodies (Pr. 25, II), but only a fragmentary [mutilatam] and con­ fused knowledge (Pr. 28, II and Sch. ) .

Scholium I say expressly that the mind does not have an adequate knowledge, but only a confused and fragmentary knowledge, of itself, its own body, and ex­ ternal bodies whenever it perceives th ings from the common order of natu re, that is, whenever it is determined externally-namely, by the fortuitous run of cir­ cumstance- to regard th is or that, and not when i t is determined internally, through its regarding several th ings at the same time, to understand their agree­ ment, their differences, and their opposition. For whenever it is conditioned in­ ternally in this or in another way, then it sees things clearly and distinctly, as I shall later show.

PROPOSITION 30 We can have only a very inadequate knowledge of the duration of our body.

Part II, Proposition 34 263

Proof The duration of our body does not depend on its essence (Ax. I, II), nor again on the absolute nature of God (Pr. 2 1 , I), but (Pr. 28, I) it is determined to exist and to act by causes which are also determined by other causes to exist and to act in a definite and determinate way, and these again by other causes, and so ad infinitum. Therefore, the duration of our body depends on the common order of nature and the structure of the universe. Now there is in God adequate knowl­ edge of the structure of the universe insofar as he has ideas of all the things in the universe, and not insofar as he has only the idea of the human body (Cor. Pro 9, II) . Therefore, knowledge of the duration of our body is very inadequate in God insofar as he is considered only to constitute the nature of the human mind. That is (Cor. Pr. I I , II) , th is knowledge is very inadequate in the human mind.

PROPOSITION 3 1 We can have only a very inadequate knowledge of the duration of particular things external to us.

Proof Each particular th ing, just l ike the human body, must be determined by another particular th ing to exist and to act in a definite and determinate way, and this latter thing again by another, and so on ad infinitum (Pr. 28, I) . Now since we have shown in the preceding Proposition that from this common property of particular things we can have only a very inadequate knowledge of the duration of the human body, in the case of the duration of particular things we have to come to the same conclusion: that we can have only a very inadequate knowledge thereof.

Corollary Hence it follows that all particular things are contingent and perish­ able. For we can have no adequate knowledge of their duration (preceding Pr. ) , and that is what is to be understood by contingency and perishabil ity (Sch. I , Pr. 3 3 , I). For apart from this there is no other kind of contingency (Pr. 29, I) .

PROPOSITION 32 All ideas are true insofar as they are related to God. Proof All ideas, wh ich are in God, agree completely with the objects of which they are ideas (Cor. Pr. 7, II), and so they are all true (Ax. 6, I).

PROPOSITION 3 3 There is nothing positive in ideas whereby they can be said to be false.

Proof If this be denied, conceive, if possible, a positive mode of thinking which constitutes the form [formal of error or falsity. This mode of th inking cannot be in God (preceding Pr.), but neither can it be or be conceived externally to God (Pr. 1 5 , I) . Thus there can be nothing positive in ideas whereby they can be called false.

PROPOSITION 34 Every idea which in us is absolute, that is, adequate and perfect, is true.

264 Ethics

Proof When we say that there is in us an adequate and perfect idea, we are say­ ing only th is (Cor. Pro I I , II), that there is adequate and perfect idea in God in­ sofar as he constitutes the essence of our mind. Consequently, we are saying only th is, that such an idea is true (Pr. 32, II).

PROPOSITION 3 5 Falsity consists in the privation of knowledge which inadequate ideas, that is, frag­ mentary and confused ideas, involve.

Proof There is nothing positive in ideas which constitutes the form [fonnal of falsity (Pr. 3 3 , II). But falsity cannot consist in absolute privation (for minds, not bodies, are said to err and be deceived), nor again in absolute ignorance, for to be ignorant and to err are different. Therefore, it consists in that privation of knowledge which inadequate knowledge, that is, inadequate and confused ideas, involves.

Scholium In Sch. Pr. 1 7, II I explained how error consists in the privation of knowledge, but I will give an example to enlarge on this explanation. Men are de­ ceived in th inking themselves free, a belief that consists only in this, that they are conscious of their actions and ignorant of the causes by which they are deter­ mined. Therefore, the idea of their freedom is simply the ignorance of the cause of their actions. As to their saying that human actions depend on the will, these are mere words without any corresponding idea . For none of them knows what the will is and how it moves the body, and those who boast otherwise and make up stories of dwelling places and habitations of the soul provoke either ridicule or disgust.

As another example, when we gaze at the sun, we see i t as some two hundred feet distant from us. The error does not consist in simply seeing the sun in this way but in the fact that while we do so we are not aware of the true distance and the cause of our seeing it so. For although we may later become aware that the sun is more than six hundred times the diameter of the earth distant from us, we shall nevertheless continue to see it as close at hand. For it is not our ignorance of its true distance that causes us to see the sun to be so near; it is that the affec­ tion of our body involves the essence of the sun only to the extent that the body is affected by it.

PROPOSITION 36 Inadequate and confused ideas follow by the same necessity as adequate, or clear and distinct, ideas.

Proof All ideas are in God (Pr. 1 5 , I), and insofar as they are related to God, they are true (Pr. 32, II) and adequate (Cor. Pr. 7, II). So there are no inadequate or confused ideas except insofar as they are related to the particular mind of some­ one (see Prs. 24 and 28, II) . So all ideas, both adequate and inadequate, follow by the same necessity (Cor. Pro 6, II) .

Part II, Proposition 39 265

PROPOSITION 37 That which i s common to all things (see Lemma 2 above) and i s equally in the part as in the whole does not constitute the essence of any one particular thing.

Proof If this is denied, conceive, if possible, that it does constitute the essence of one particular thing, B . Therefore, it can neither be nor be conceived without B (Def. 2 , II) . But this is contrary to our hypothesis. Therefore, it does not pertain to B's essence, nor does it constitute the essence of any other particular th ing.

PROPOSITION 38 Those things that are common to all things and are equally in the part as in the whole can be conceived only adequately.

Proof Let A be something common to all bodies, and equally in the part of any body as in the whole. I say that A can be conceived only adequately. For its idea (Cor. Pro 7, II) will necessarily be in God both insofar as he has the idea of the human body and insofar as he has the ideas of affections of the human body, af­ fections which partly involve the natures of both the human body and external bodies (Prs. 1 6, 2 5 , and 27, II). That is (Prs. 1 2 and 1 3 , II), th is idea will neces­ sarily be adequate in God insofar as he constitutes the human mind; that is, in­ sofar as he has the ideas which are in the human mind. Therefore, the mind (Cor. Pr. I I , II) necessarily perceives A adequately, and does so both insofar as i t per­ ceives itself and insofar as it perceives its own body or any external body; nor can A be perceived in any other way.

Corollary Hence it follows that there are certain ideas or notions common to all men. For (by Lemma 2) all bodies agree in certain respects, which must be (preceding Pr. ) conceived by all adequately, or clearly and distinctly.

PROPOSITION 39 Of that which is common and proper to the human body and to any external bod­ ies by which the human body is customarily affected, and which is equally in the part as well as in the whole of any of these bodies, the idea also in the mind will be adequate.

Proof Let A be that which is common and proper to the human body and to any external bodies and which is equally in the human body as in those same ex­ ternal bodies, and which is finally equally in the part of any external body as in the whole. There wil l be in God an adequate idea of A (Cor. Pr o 7, II) both inso­ far as he has the idea of the human body and insofar as he has ideas of those posited external bodies. Let i t now be supposed that the human body is affected by an ex­ ternal body through that which is common to them both, that is, A. The idea of this affection will involve the property A (Pr. 1 6, 11) , and so (Cor. Pr. 7, II) the idea of this affection, insofar as it involves the property A, will be adequate in God in­ sofar as he is affected by the idea of the human body; that is (Pr. 1 3 , II), insofar as he constitutes the nature of the human mind. So this idea will also be adequate in the human mind (Cor. Pr. I I , II) .

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Corollary Hence it follows that the mind is more capable of perceiving more things adequately in proportion as its body has more th ings in common with other bodies.

PROPOSITION 40 Whatever ideas follow in the mind from ideas that are adequate in it are also adequate.

Proof This is evident. For when we say that an idea follows in the human mind from ideas that are adequate in it, we are saying no more than that there is in the divine intellect an idea of which God is the cause, not insofar as he is infinite nor insofar as he is affected by ideas of numerous particular th ings, but only insofar as he constitutes the essence of the human mind.

Scholium 1 I have here set forth the causes of those notions that are called "common," and which are the basis of our reasoning processes. Now certa in ax­ ioms or notions have other causes which it would be relevant to set forth by th is method of ours; for thus we could establish wh ich notions are useful compared with others, and which are of scarcely any value. And again, we could establish which notions are common to all, which ones are clear and distinct only to those not laboring under prejudices [prae;udiciis] and which ones are ill-founded. Fur­ thermore, th is would clarify the origin of those notions called "secondary" -and consequently the axioms which are based on them-as well as other related ques­ tions to which I have for some time given thought. But I have decided not to embark on these questions at this poin t because I have set them aside for another treatise,3 and also to avoid wearying the reader with too lengthy a discussion of this subject. Nevertheless, to omit nothing that it is essential to know, I shall briefly deal with the question of the origin of the so-called "transcendental terms;' such as "entity," "thing," "something" [ens, res, aliquid].

These terms originate in the following way. The human body, being l imited, is capable of forming simultaneously in itself only a certa in number of distinct im­ ages. (I have expla ined in Sch. Pr. 1 7 , II what an image is.) If th is number be ex­ ceeded, these images begin to be confused, and if the number of distinct images which the body is capable of forming simultaneously in itself be far exceeded, all the images will be utterly confused with one another. This being so, it is evident from Cor. Pr. 17 and Pr. 1 8, II that the human mind is able to imagine simul ta­ neously and distinctly as many bodies as there are images that can be formed si­ multaneously in its body. But when the images in the body are utterly confused, the mind will also imagine all the bodies confusedly without any distinction, and will comprehend them, as it were, under one attribute, namely, that of entity, th ing, etc. This conclusion can also be reached from the fact that images are not always equally vivid, and also from other causes analogous to these, which I need not here expl icate. For it all comes down to this, that these terms signify ideas con­ fused in the highest degree.

3 [ThIS is Spmoza's Incomplete essay, On the Improvement of the Understanding 1

Part II, Proposition 40 267

Again, from similar causes have arisen those notions called "universal," such as "man," "horse," "dog," etc . ; that is to say, so many images are formed in the human body simultaneously (e.g., of man) that our capacity to imagine them is surpassed, not indeed completely, but to the extent that the mind is unable to imagine the unimportant differences of individuals (such as the complexion and stature of each, and their exact number) and imagines distinctly only their common characteristic insofar as the body is affected by them. For it was by this that the body was affected most repeatedly, by each single individual. The mind expresses this by the word "man; and predicates th is word of an infinite number of individuals. For, as we said, it is unable to imagine the determinate number of individuals.

But it should be noted that not all men form these notions in the same way; in the case of each person the notions vary according as that th ing varies whereby the body has more frequently been affected, and which the mind more readily imagines or calls to mind. For example, those who have more often regarded with admiration the stature of men will understand by the word "man" an animal of upright stature, while those who are wont to regard a different aspect will form a different common image of man, such as that man is a laughing animal, a feath­ erless biped, or a rational animal. Similarly, with regard to other aspects, each will form universal images according to the conditioning of h is body. Therefore, it is not surprising that so many controversies have arisen among philosophers who have sought to explain natural phenomena through merely the images of these phenomena.

Scholium 2 From all that has already been said i t is quite clear that we perceive many things and form universal notions:

I. From individual objects presented to us through the senses in a fragmen­ tary [mutilate) and confused manner without any intellectual order (see Cor. Pc. 29, II); and therefore I call such perceptions "knowledge from casual experience."

2 . From symbols. For example, from having heard or read certain words we call things to mind and we form certa in ideas of them similar to those through which we imagine things (Sch. Pc. 1 8, II).

Both these ways of regarding things I shall in future refer to as "knowledge of the first kind;' "opinion," or "imagination."

3 . From the fact that we have common notions and adequate ideas of the prop­ erties of things (see Cor. Pro 38 and 39 with its Cor., and Pro 40, II) . I shall refer to this as "reason" and "knowledge of the second kind."

Apart from these two kinds of knowledge there is, as I shall later show, a th ird kind of knowledge, which I shall refer to as "intuition." Th is kind of knowledge proceeds from an adequate idea of the formal essence of certain attributes of God to an adequate knowledge of the essence of th ings. I shall illustrate all these kinds of knowledge by one single example. Three numbers are given; it is required to find a fourth which is related to the third as the second to the first. Tradesmen have no hesitation in multiplying the second by the third and dividing the prod­ uct by the first, either because they have not yet forgotten the rule they learned

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without proof from their teachers, or because they have in fact found this correct in the case of very simple numbers, or else from the force of the proof of Propo­ sition 19 of the Seventh Book of Euclid, to wit, the common property of propor­ tionals. But in the case of very s imple numbers, none of th is is necessary. For example, in the case ofthe given numbers 1 , 2, 3, everybody can see that the fourth proportional is 6, and all the more clearly because we infer in one single in tu ition the fourth number from the ratio we see the first number bears to the second.

PROPOSITION 4 1 Knowledge of the {irst kind is the only cause of falsity; knowledge of the second and third kind is necessarily true.

Proof In the preceding Schol ium we asserted that all those ideas which are in­ adequate and confused belong to the first kind of knowledge; and thus (Pr. 3 5 , II) this knowledge is the only cause offalsity. Further, we asserted that to knowledge of the second and third kind there belong those ideas which are adequate. There­ fore (Pr. 34, II), th is knowledge is necessarily true.

PROPOSITION 42 Knowledge of the second and third kind, and not knowledge of the {irst kind, teaches us to distinguish true from false.

Proof This Proposition is self-evident. For he who can distinguish the true from the false must have an adequate idea of the true and the false; that is (Sch. 2 Pro 40, II), he must know the true and the false by the second or th ird kind ofknowl­ edge.

PROPOSITION 4 3 He who has a true idea knows a t the same time that h e has a true idea, and cannot doubt its truth.

Proof A true idea in us is one which is adequate in God insofar as he is expli­ cated through the nature of the human mind (Cor. Pr. I I , II). Let us suppose, then, that there is in God, insofar as he is explicated through the nature of the hu­ man mind, an adequate idea, A. The idea of this idea must also necessarily be in God, and is related to God in the same way as the idea A (Pr. 20, II , the proof be­ ing of general application). But by our supposition the idea A is related to God in­ sofar as he is explicated through the nature of the human mind. Therefore, the idea of the idea A must be related to God in the same way; that is (Cor. Pr. I I , II), this adequate idea of the idea A will be in the mind which has the adequate idea A. So he who has an adequate idea, that is, he who knows a thing truly (Pr. 34, II), must at the same time have an adequate idea, that is, a true knowledge of h is knowledge; that is (as is self-evident), he is bound at the same time to be certa in.

Scholium I have expla ined in the Schol ium to Pro 2 1 , II what is an idea of an idea; but it should be noted that the preceding propos ition is sufficiently self­ evident. For nobody who has a true idea is unaware that a true idea involves ab-

Part II, Proposition 44 269

solute certainty. To have a true idea means only to know a thing perfectly, that is, to the utmost degree. Indeed, nobody can doubt this, unless he thinks that an idea is some dumb thing l ike a p icture on a tablet, and not a mode of th inking, to wit, the very act of understanding. And who, pray, can know that he understands some thing unless he first understands it? That is, who can know that he is certa in of something unless he is first certain of it? Aga in, what standard of truth can there be that is clearer and more certain than a true idea? Indeed, just as l ight makes manifest both itself and darkness, so truth is the standard both of itself and falSity.

I think I have thus given an answer to those questions which can be stated as follows: If a true idea is distinguished from a false one only inasmuch as it is said to correspond with that of which it is an idea, then a true idea has no more real­ ity or perfection than a false one (since they are distinguished only by an extrin­ sic characteristic) and consequently neither is a man who has true ideas superior to one who has only false ideas. Secondly, how do we come to have false ideas? And finally, how can one know for certain that one has ideas which correspond with that of which they are ideas? I have now given an answer, I repeat, to these problems. As regards the difference between a true and a false idea, it is clear from Pro 3 5 , II that the former is to the latter as being to non-being. The causes of fal­ sity I have quite clearly shown from Propositions 19 to 35 with the latter's Scholium, from which it is l ikewise obvious what is the difference between a man who has true ideas and one who has only false ideas. As to the last question, how can a man know that he has an idea which corresponds to that of which it is an idea, I have just shown, with abundant clarity, that this arises from the fact that he does have an idea that corresponds to that of which i t is an idea; that is, truth is its own standard. Furthermore, the human mind, insofar as it perceives things truly, is part of the infinite intellect of God (Cor. Pro I I , II), and thus it is as inevitable that the clear and distinct ideas of the mind are true as that God's ideas are true.

PROPOSITION 44 It is not in the nature of reason to regard things as contingent, but as necessary.

Proof It is in the nature of reason to perceive things truly (Pr. 4 1 , II), to wit (Ax. 6, I), as they are in themselves; that is (Pr. 29, I), not as contingent, but as neces­ sary.

Corollary 1 Hence it follows that it solely results from imagination [imaginatio] that we regard th ings, both in respect of the past and of the future, as contingent.

Scholium I shall explain briefly how this comes about. We have shown above (Pr. 1 7, II and Cor.) that although things may not exist, the mind nevertheless al­ ways imagines them as present unless causes arise wh ich exclude their present ex­ istence. Further, we have shown (Pr. 1 8, II) that if the human body has once been affected by two external bodies at the same time, when the mind later imagines one of them, it will straightway call the other to mind as well; that is, it will regard both as present to it unless other causes arise which exclude their present exis­ tence. Furthermore, nobody doubts that time, too, is a product of the imagina-

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tion, and arises from the fact that we see some bodies move more slowly than oth­ ers, or more quickly, or with equal speed. Let us therefore suppose that yesterday a boy saw Peter first of all in the morning, Paul at noon, and Simon in the evening, and that today he again sees Peter in the morning. From Pro 1 8, II i t is clear that as soon as he sees the morning l ight, forthwith he will imagine the sun as travers­ ing the same tract of sky as on the previous day, that is, he will imagine a whole day, and he will imagine Peter together with morning, Paul with midday, and S i­ mon with evening; that is, he will imagine the existence of Paul and Simon with reference to future time. On the other hand, on seeing Simon in the evening he will refer Paul and Peter to time past by imagining them along with time past. Th is tra in of events will be the more consistent the more frequently he sees them in that order. If it should at some time occur that on another evening he sees James instead of Simon, then the following morning he will imagine along with evening now Simon, now James, but not both together. For we are supposing that he has seen only one of them in the evening, not both at the same time. Therefore, h is imagination will waver, and he will imagine, along with a future evening, now one, now the other; that is, he will regard neither of them as going to be there for certain, but both of them contingently. This wavering of the imagination occurs in the same way if the imagination be of th ings which we regard with relation to past or presen t time, and consequently we shall imagine th ings, as related both to present and past or future time, as contingent.

Corollary 2 I t is in the nature of reason to perceive things in the l ight of eter­ nity [sub quadam specie aeternitalis].

Proof It is in the nature of reason to regard things as necessary, not as contin­ gent (previous Pr. ) . Now i t perceives this necessity truly (Pr. 4 1 , II); that is, as it is in itself (Ax. 6, J) . But (Pr. 1 6, J) this necessity is the very necessity of God's eter­ nal nature. Therefore, it is in the natu re of reason to regard things in this l ight of eternity. Furthermore, the basic principles of reason are those notions (Pr. 38, II) which expl icate what is common to all th ings, and do not explicate (Pr. 37, II) the essence of any particular th ing, and therefore must be conceived without any re­ lation to time, but in the l ight of eternity.

PROPOSITION 45 Every idea of any body or particular thing existing in actuality necessarily involves the eternal and infinite essence of God.

Proof The idea of a particular th ing actually existing necessarily involves both the essence and the existence of the thing (Cor. Pro 8, II) . But particular things cannot be conceived without God (Pr. 1 5 , J). Now since they have God for their cause (Pr. 6, II) insofar as he is considered under that attribute of which the things themselves are modes, their ideas (Ax. 4, J) must necessarily involve the concep­ tion of their attribute; that is (Def. 6, J), the eternal and infinite essence of God. Scholium Here by existence J do not mean duration, that is, existence insofar as it is considered in the abstract as a kind of quantity. J am speaking of the very

Part II, Proposition 47 27 1

nature of existence, which i s attributed to particular things because they follow in infinite numbers in infinite ways from the eternal necessity of God's nature (Pr. 1 6, I). I am speaking, I repeat, of the very existence of particular things insofar as they are in God. For although each particular th ing is determined by another par­ ticular th ing to exist in a certa in manner, the force by which each perseveres in existing follows from the eternal necessity of God's nature. See Cor. Pro 24, I.

PROPOSITION 46 The knowledge of the eternal and infinite essence of God which each idea involves is adequate and perfect.

Proof The proof of the preceding proposition is universally valid, and whether a thing be considered as a part or a whole, its idea, whether of whole or part, in­ volves the eternal and infinite essence of God (preceding Pr. ) . Therefore, that which gives knowledge of the eternal and infinite essence of God is common to all th ings, and equally in the part as in the whole. And so this knowledge will be adequate (Pr. 38, II).

PROPOSITION 47 The human mind has an adequate knowledge of the eternal and infinite essence of God.

Proof The human mind has ideas (Pr. 22, II) from which (Pr. 23 , II) it perceives itself, its own body (Pr. 19 , II), and external bodies (Cor. 1 , Pro 16 and Pr. 1 7 , II) as actually existing, and so it has an adequate knowledge of the eternal and infi­ nite essence of God (Prs. 45 and 46, II).

Scholiurn Hence we see that God's infinite essence and his eternity are known to all . Now since all things are in God and are conceived through God, i t follows that from this knowledge we can deduce a great many things so as to know them adequately and thus to form that third kind of knowledge I mentioned in Sch. 2 Pr. 40, II, of the superiority and usefulness of which we shall have occasion to speak in Part V. That men do not have as clear a knowledge of God as they do of common notions arises from the fuct that they are unable to imagine God as they do bodies, and that they have connected the word "God" with the images of things which they commonly see; and this they can scarcely avoid, being affected con­ tinually by external bodies. Indeed, most errors result solely from the incorrect application of words to things. When somebody says that the lines j oining the cen­ ter of a circle to its circumference are unequal, he surely understands by circle, at least at that time, something different from what mathematicians understand. Likewise, when men make mistakes in arithmetic, they have different figures in mind from those on paper. So if you look only to their minds, they indeed are not mistaken; but they seem to be wrong because we think that they have in mind the figures on the page. Ifthis were not the case, we would not think them to be wrong, j ust as I did not think that person to be wrong whom I recently heard shouting that h is hall had flown into h is neighbor'S hen, for I could see clearly what he had

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in mind. Most controversies arise from this, that men do not correctly express what is in their mind, or they misunderstand another's mind. For, in reality, while they are hotly contradicting one another, they are either in agreement or have differ­ ent things in mind, so that the apparen t errors and absurdities of their opponents are not really so.

PROPOSITION 48 In the mind there is no absolute, or free, will. The mind is determined to this or that volition by a cause, which is likewise determined by another cause, and this again by another, and so ad infinitum.

Proof The mind is a definite and determinate mode of th inking (Pr. I I , II) , and thus (Cor. 2, Pro 1 7 , I) it cannot be the free cause of its actions: that is, i t cannot possess an absolute faculty of willing and nonwilling. It must be determined to will this or that (Pr. 28, I) by a cause, wh ich l ikewise is determined by another cause, and this again by another, etc.

Scholium In the same way it is proved that in the mind there is no absolute faculty of understanding, desiring, loving, etc. Hence it follows that these and s im­ ilar facul ties are either entirely fictitious or noth ing more than metaphysical en­ tities or universals which we are wont to form from particulars. So intellect and will bear the same relation to th is or that idea, this or that vol ition, as stoniness to this or that stone, or man to Peter and Paul. As to the reason why men think they are free, we explained that in the Appendix to Part I .

But before proceeding further, it should here be noted that by the will I mean the faculty of affirming and denying, and not desire. I mean, I repeat, the faculty whereby the mind affirms or denies what is true or what is false, not the desire whereby the mind seeks things or shuns them. But now that we have proved that these facul ties are universal notions wh ich are not distinct from the particulars from which we form them, we must inquire whether vol itions themselves are any­ thing more than ideas of things. We must inquire, I say, whether there is in the mind any other affirmation and denial apart from that wh ich the idea, insofar as i t is an idea, involves. On this subject see the following proposition and also Def. 3 , II, lest thought becomes confused with pictures. For by ideas I do not mean im­ ages such as are formed at the back of the eye- or if you like, in the middle of the brain -but conceptions of thought.

PROPOSITION 49 There is in the mind no volition, that is, affirmation and negation, except that which an idea. insofar as it is an idea1 involves.

Proof There is in the mind (preceding Pr.) no absolute faculty of willing and non-willing, but only particular vol itions, namely, this or that affirmation, and this or that negation. Let us therefore conceive a particular vol ition, namely, a mode of thinking whereby the mind affirms that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. This affirmation involves the conception, or idea, of a trian-

Part II, Proposition 49 273

gle; that is, it cannot be conceived without the idea of a triangle. For to say that A must involve the conception of B is the same as to say that A cannot be conceived without B. Again, this affirmation (Ax. 3 , II) cannot even be without the idea of a triangle. Therefore, this idea can neither be nor be conceived without the idea of a triangle. Furthermore, th is idea of a triangle must involve this same affirmation, namely, that its three angles are equal to two right angles. Therefore, vice versa, this idea of a triangle can neither be nor be conceived without this affirmation , and so (Def. 2, II) this affirmation belongs to the essence of the idea of a triangle, and is nothing more than the essence itself. And what I have said of this vol ition (for i t was arbitrarily selected) must also be said of every volition, namely, that it is noth ing but an idea.

Corollary Will and intellect are one and the same thing.

Proof Will and intellect are nothing but the particular voli tions and ideas (Pr. 48, II and Sch . ) . But a particular vol ition and idea are one and the same thing (preceding Pr.). Therefore, will and intellect are one and the same thing.

Scholium By this means we have removed the cause to which error is com­ monly attributed. We have previously shown that falsity consists only in the privation that fragmentary and confused ideas involve. Therefore, a false idea, in­ sofar as it is false, does not involve certainty. So when we say that a man acqui­ esces in what is false and has no doubt thereof, we are not thereby saying that he is certa in, but only that he does not doubt, or that he acquiesces in what is false because there is noth ing to cause his imagination to waver. On this point see Sch . Pro 44, II. So however much we suppose a man to adhere to what is false, we shall never say that he is certa in . For by certainty we mean something positive (Pr. 43, II and Sch. ) , not privation of doubt. But by privation of certa inty we mean falsity.

But for a fuller explanation of the preceding proposition some things remain to be said. Then, again, there is the further task of replying to objections that may be raised against this doctrine of ours. Finally, to remove every shred of doubt, I have thought it worthwhile to point out certa in advantages of this doctrine. I say certain advantages, for the most important of them will be better understood from what we have to say in Part v.

I begin, then, with the first point, and I urge my readers to make a careful dis­ tinction between an idea - L e. , a conception of the mind-and the images of th ings that we imagine. Again, it is essential to distinguish between ideas and the words we use to signify things. For s ince these three- images, words, and ideas­ have been utterly confused by many, or else they fa il to distingu ish between them through lack of accuracy, or, finally, through lack of caution, our doctrine of the will, which it is essential to know both for theory and for the wise ordering of life, has never entered their minds. For those who think that ideas consist in images formed in us from the contact of external bodies are convinced that those ideas of things whereof we can form no l ike image are not ideas, but mere fictions fash­ ioned arbitrarily at will. So they look on ideas as dumb pictures on a tablet, and misled by this preconception they fail to see that an idea, insofar as it is an idea,

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involves affirmation or negation. Aga in, those who confuse words with idea, or with the affirmation which an idea involves, th ink that when they affirm or deny something merely by words contrary to what they feel, they are able to will con­ trary to what they feel . Now one can easily dispel these misconceptions if one attends to the nature of thought, which is quite removed from the concept of extension. Then one will clearly understand that an idea, being a mode of th ink­ ing, consists neither in the image of a th ing nor in words. For the essence of words and images is constituted solely by corporeal motions far removed from the con­ cept of thought. With these few words of warning, I turn to the aforementioned objections.

The first of these rests on the confident claim that the will extends more widely than the intellect, and therefore is different from it The reason for their bel ief that the will extends more widely than the intellect is that they find-so they say- that they do not need a greater faculty of assent, that is, of affirming and denying, than they already possess, in order to assent to an infinite number of other th ings that we do not perceive, but that we do need an increased faculty of understanding. Therefore, will is distinct from intellect, the latter being finite and the former infinite.

Second, it may be objected against us that experience appears to tell us most indisputably that we are able to suspend judgment so as not to assent to things that we perceive, and this is a lso confirmed by the fact that nobody is sa id to be de­ ceived insofar as he perceives someth ing, but only insofur as he assents or dissents. For instance, he who imagines a winged horse does not thereby grant that there is a winged horse; that is, he is not thereby deceived unless at the same time he grants that there is a winged horse. So experience appears to tell us most indis­ putably that the will, that is, the faculty of assen ting, is free, and different from the faculty of understanding.

Third, i t may be objected that one affirmation does not seem to contain more reality than another; that is, we do not seem to need greater power in order to af­ firm that what is true is true than to affirm that what is fulse is true. On the other hand, we do perceive that one idea has more reality or perfection than another. For some ideas are more perfect than others in proportion as some objects are su­ perior to others. This, again, is a clear indication that there is a difference between will and intellect.

Fourth, it may be objected that if man does not act from freedom of will, what would happen if he should be in a state of equilibrium like Buridan's ass? Will he perish of hunger and thirst? If ! were to grant this, I would appear to be thinking of an ass or a statue, not of a man. If I deny it, then the man will be determining h imself, and consequently will possess the faculty of going and doing whatever he wants.

Besides these objections there may possibly be others. But since I am not obliged to quash every objection that can be dreamed up, I shall make it my task to reply to these objections only, and as briefly as possible.

To the first objection I reply that, ifby the intellect is meant clear and distinct ideas only, I grant that the wil l extends more widely than the intellect, but I deny

Part II, Proposition 49 275

that the will extends more widely than perceptions, that i s , the faculty of con­ ceiving. Nor indeed do I see why the faculty of willing should be termed infi­ nite any more than the faculty of sensing. For just as by the same faculty of will­ ing we can affirm an infinite number of th ings (but in succession, for we cannot affirm an infinite number of th ings simultaneously), so also we can sense or per­ ceive an infinite number of bodies (in succession) by the same faculty of sens­ ing. If my objectors should say that there are an infini te number of th ings that we cannot sense, I retort that we cannot grasp them by any amount of thought, and consequently by any amount of willing. But, they say, if God wanted to bring i t about that we should perceive these too, he would have had to give us a greater faculty of perceiving, but not a greater faculty of willing than he has already given us. Th is is the same as saying that if God wishes to bring it about that we should understand an infinite number of other en tities, he would have to give us a greater intellect than he already has, so as to encompass these same infinite entities, but not a more universal idea of entity. For we have shown that the will is a universal en tity, or the idea whereby we expl icate all particular vol itions; that is, that wh ich is common to all particular vol itions. So if they believe that th is common or universal idea of vol itions is a faculty, i t is not at all surprising that they declare this faculty to extend beyond the l imits of the intellect to infinity. For the term "universal" is applied equally to one, to many, and to an infinite number of individuals.

To the second objection I reply by denying that we have free power to suspend j udgment. For when we say that someone suspends judgment, we are saying only that he sees that he is not adequately perceiving the thing. So suspension of judg­ ment is really a perception, not free will. To understand this more clearly, let us conceive a boy imagining a winged horse and having no other perception. Since this imagining involves the existence of a horse (Cor. Pro 1 7, II), and the boy per­ ceives nothing to annul the existence of the horse, he will regard the horse as pres­ ent and he will not be able to doubt its existence, although he is not certa in of it. We experience this quite commonly in dreams, nor do I believe there is anyone who thinks that while dreaming he has free power to suspend judgment regard­ ing the contents of h is dream, and of bringing it about that he should not dream what he dreams that he sees. Nevertheless, i t does happen that even in dreams we suspend judgment, to wit, when we dream that we are dreaming. Furthermore, I grant that nobody is deceived insofar as he has a perception; that is, I grant that the imaginings of the mind, considered in themselves, involve no error (see Sch. Pro 17, II) . But I deny that a man makes no affirmation insofar as he has a per­ ception. For what else is perceiving a winged horse than affirming wings of a horse? For if the mind should perceive nothing apart from the winged horse, it would regard the horse as present to it, and would have no cause to doubt its ex­ istence nor any faculty of dissenting, unless the imagining of the winged horse were to be connected to an idea which annuls the existence of the said horse, or he perceives that the idea which he has of the winged horse is inadequate. Then he will either necessarily deny the existence of the horse or he will necessarily doubt i t.

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In the above I th ink I have also answered the third objection by my assertion that the will is a universal term predicated of all ideas and signifYing only what is common to all ideas, namely, affirmation, the adequate essence of which, insofar as it is thus conceived as an abstract term, must be in every single idea, and the same in all in this respect only. But not insofar as it is considered as constituting the essence of the idea, for in that respect particular affirmations differ among themselves as much as do ideas. For example, the affirmation which the idea of a circle involves differs from the affirmation which the idea of a triangle involves as much as the idea of a circle differs from the idea of a triangle. Again, I absolutely deny that we need an equal power of thinking to affirm that what is true is true as to affirm that what is false is true. For these two affirmations, if you look to their meaning and not to the words alone, are related to one another as being to non­ being. For there is nothing in ideas that constitutes the form offalsity (see Pr. 3 5 , II with Sch. a nd Sch. Pr. 4 7 , I I ) . Therefore, i t i s important t o note here how eas­ ily we are deceived when we confuse universals with particulars, and mental con­ structs [entia rationis] and abstract terms with the real.

As to the fourth objection, I readily gran t that a man placed in such a state of equilibrium (namely, where he feels noth ing else but hunger and thirst and per­ ceives nothing but such-and-such food and drink at equal distances from him) will die of hunger and thirst. If they ask me whether such a man is not to be reckoned an ass rather than a man, I reply that ! do not know, just as I do not know how one should reckon a man who hangs himself, or how one should reckon babies, fools, and madmen.

My final task is to show what practical advantages accrue from knowledge of this doctrine, and this we shall readily gather from the following points:

I. It teaches that we act only by God's will, and that we share in the divine na­ ture, and all the more as our actions become more perfect and as we understand God more and more. Therefore, this doctrine, apart from giving us complete tranqu ill ity of mind, has the further advantage of teaching us wherein l ies our greatest happiness or blessedness, namely, in the knowledge of God alone, as a re­ sult of which we are induced only to such actions as are urged on us by love and piety. Hence we clearly understand how far astray from the true estimation of virtue are those who, failing to understand that virtue itself and the service of God are happiness itself and utmost freedom, expect God to bestow on them the high­ est rewards in retum for their virtue and meritorious actions as if in return for the basest slavery.

2. It teaches us what attitude we should adopt regarding fortune, or the things that are not in our power, that is, the things that do not follow frorn our nature; namely, to expect and to endure with patience both faces offortune. For all th ings follow from God's eternal decree by the same necessity as it follows from the essence of a triangle that its three angles are equal to two right angles.

3 . This doctrine assists us in our social relations, in that it teaches us to hate no one, despise no one, ridicule no one, be angry with no one, envy no one. Then again, it teaches us that each should be content with what he has and should help h is neighbor, not frorn wornanish pity, or favor, or superstition, but from the guid-

Part III, Preface 277

ance of reason as occasion and circumstance requ ire. This I shaIl demonstrate in Part lY.

4. FinaIly, th is doctrine is also of no small advantage to the commonwealth, in that i t teaches the manner in which citizens should be governed and led; namely, not so as to be slaves, but so as to do freely what is best.

And thus I have completed the task I undertook in this Scholium, and thereby I bring to an end Part II, in which I th ink I have explained the nature of the hu­ man mind and its properties at sufficient length and as clearly as the difficult subject matter permits, and that from my account can be drawn many excellent lessons, most useful and necessary to know, as will partly be disclosed in what is to follow.

PART III

CONCERNING THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS

PREFACE

Most of those who have written about the emotions [affectibusl and human con­ duct seem to be dealing not with natural phenomena that follow the common laws of Nature but with phenomena outside Nature. They appear to go so far as to con­ ceive man in Nature as a kingdom within a kingdom. They believe that he disturbs rather than foIlows Nature's order, and has absolute power over his actions, and is determined by no other source than himself. Again, they assign the cause of hu­ man weakness and frailty not to the power of Nature in general, but to some de­ fect in human nature, which they therefore bemoan, ridicule, despise, or, as is most frequently the case, abuse. He who can criticize the weakness of the human mind more eloquently or more shrilly is regarded as almost divinely inspired. Yet there have not been lacking outstanding figures who have written much that is excellent regarding the right conduct of life and have given to mankind very sage counsel ; and we confess we owe much to their toil and industry. However, as far as I know, no one has defined the nature and strength of the emotions, and the power of the mind in controlling them. I know, indeed, that the renowned Descartes, though he too believed that the mind has absolute power over its actions, does explain hu­ man emotions through their first causes, and has also zealously striven to show how the mind can have absolute control over the emotions. But in my opinion he has shown nothing else but the brilliance of his own genius, as I shall demonstrate in due course; for I want now to return to those who prefer to abuse or deride the emo­ tions and actions of men rather than to understand them. They will doubtless find

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it surprising that I should attempt to treat of the faults and follies of mankind in the geometric manner, and that I should propose to bring logical reasoning to bear on what they proclaim is opposed to reason, and is va in, absurd, and horrifying. But my argument is this: in Nature nothing happens wh ich can be attributed to its de­ fectiveness, for Nature is always the same, and its force and power of acting is every­ where one and the same; that is, the laws and rules of Nature according to which all things happen and change from one form to another are everywhere and always the same. So our approach to the understanding of the nature of things of every kind should l ikewise be one and the same; namely, through the universal laws and rules of Nature. Therefore the emotions of hatred, anger, envy, etc . , considered in themselves, follow from the same necessity and force of Nature as al l other partic­ ular things. So these emotions are assignable to definite causes through which they can be understood, and have definite properties, equally deserving of our investi­ gation as the properties of any other thing, whose mere contemplation affords us pleasure. I shall, then, treat of the nature and strength of the emotions, and the mind's power over them, by the same method as I have used in treating of God and the mind, and I shall consider human actions and appetites j ust as if i t were an in­ vestigation into l ines, planes, or bodies.

Defini ti ons

I . I call that an adequate cause whose effect can be clearly and distinctly per­ ceived through the said cause. I call that an inadequate or partial cause whose ef­ fect cannot be understood through the sa id cause alone.

2 . I say that we are active when something takes place, in us or externally to us, of which we are the adequate cause; that is, (by preceding Def.), when from our nature there follows in us or externally to us something which can be clearly and distinctly understood through our nature alone. On the other hand, I say that we are passive when something takes place in us, or follows from our nature, of which we are only the partial cause.

3 . By emotion [affectusJ I understand the affections of the body by which the body's power of activity is increased or diminished, assisted or checked, together with the ideas of these affections.

Thus, if we can be the adequate cause of one of these affections, then by emo­ tion I understand activity, otherwise paSSivity.

P os tula tes

I . The human body can be affected in many ways by which its power of ac­ tivity is increased or diminished; and also in many other ways which neither in­ crease nor diminish its power of activity.

This postulate or axiom rests on Postulate I and Lemmata 5 and 7, following Pr. 1 3 , II.

Part III, Proposition 2 279

2 . The human body can undergo many changes and nevertheless reta in im­ pressions or traces of objects (see Post. 5, II) and consequently the same images of things for the definition of which see Sch. Pr. 1 7 , II .

PROPOSITION 1 Our mind is in some instances active and in other instances passive. Insofar as it has adequate ideas, it is necessarily active; and insofar as it has inadequate ideas, it is necessarily passive.

Proof In every human mind, some of its ideas are adequate, others are frag­ mentary and confused (Sch. Pro 40, II). N ow ideas that are adequate in someone's mind are adequate in God insofar as he constitutes the essence of that mind (Cor. Pro I I , II); and furthermore those ideas that are inadequate in the mind are also adequate in God (same Cor.), not insofar as he conta ins in himself the essence of that mind only, but insofar as he contains the minds of other things as well . Again, from any given idea some effect must necessarily follow (Pr. 36, I) , of which God is the adequate cause (Def. I , 1II) not insofar as he is infinite but insofar as he is considered as affected by the given idea (Pr. 9, II) . But in the case of an effect of which God is the cause insofar as he is affected by an idea wh ich is adequate in someone's mind, that same mind is i ts adequate cause (Cor. Pro I I , II) . Therefore our mind (Def. 2, 1II), insofar as it has adequate ideas, is necessarily active- which is the first point. Again, whatever necessarily follows from an idea that is adequate in God not insofar as he has in himself the mind of one man only, bu t insofar as he has the minds of other th ings Simultaneously with the mind of the said man , the mind of that man is not the adequate cause of it, but the partial cause (Cor. Pr. I I , II), and therefore (Def. 2, 1II) insofar as the mind has inadequate ideas, it is necessarily passive-which was the second point. Therefore our mind etc.

Corollary Hence it follows that the more the mind has inadequate ideas, the more it is subject to passive states [passionibusl ; and, on the other hand, it is the more active in proportion as it has a greater number of adequate ideas.

PROPOSITION 2 The body cannot determine the mind to think, nor can the mind determine the body to motion or rest, or to anything else (if there is anything else).

Proof All modes of th inking have God for their cause insofar as he is a th inking thing, and not insofar as he is explicated by any other attribute (Pr. 6, II) . So that which determines the mind to th ink is a mode of Thinking, and not of Extension; that is (Def. 1, II), i t is not the body. That was our first point. Now the motion­ and-rest of a body must arise from another body, which again has been determined to motion or rest by another body, and without exception whatever arises in a body must have arisen from God insofar as he is considered as affected by a mode of Extension, and not insofar as he is considered as affected by a mode of Thinking (Pr. 6, II); that is, it cannot arise from mind, which (Pr. 1 1 , 11) is a mode ofThink­ ing. That was our second point. Therefore the body cannot . . . etc.

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Scholium This is more clearly understood from Sch. Pro 7, II, which tells us that mind and body are one and the same thing, conceived now under the attrib­ ute of Thought, now under the attribute of Extension. Hence it comes about that the order or l inking of th ings is one, whether Nature be conceived under th is or that attribute, and consequently the order of the active and passive states of our body is simultaneous in Nature with the order of active and passive states of the mind. This is also evident from the manner of our proof of Pr. 1 2 , II .

Yet, although the matter admits of no shadow of doubt, I can scarcely believe, without the confirmation of experience, that men can be induced to examine this view without prejudice, so strongly are they convinced that at the mere bidding of the mind the body can now be set in motion, now be brought to rest, and can perform any number of actions wh ich depend solely on the will of the mind and the exercise of thought. However, nobody as yet has determined the l imits of the body's capabil ities: that is, nobody as yet has learned from experience what the body can and cannot do, without being determined by mind, solely from the laws of its nature insofar as it is considered as corporeal. For nobody as yet knows the structure of the body so accurately as to explain all its functions, not to mention that in the animal world we find much that far surpasses human sagacity, and that sleepwalkers do many things in their sleep that they would not dare when awake­ clear evidence that the body, solely from the laws of its own nature, can do many things at which its mind is amazed.

Again, no one knows in what way and by what means mind can move body, or how many degrees of motion it can impart to body and with what speed it can cause i t to move. Hence i t follows that when men say that this or that action of the body arises from the mind which has command over the body, they do not know what they are saying, and are merely admitting, under a plausible cover of words, that they are ignorant of the true cause of that action and are not concerned to discover it.

"But; they will say, "whether or not we know by what means the mind moves the body, experience tells us that unless the mind is in a fit state to exercise thought, the body remains inert. And again, experience tells us that it is solely within the power of the mind both to speak and to keep silen t, and to do many other things which we therefore believe to depend on mental decision." N ow as to the first point, I ask, does not experience also tell them that if, on the other hand, the body is inert, the mind likewise is not capable of th inking? When the body is at rest in sleep, the mind remains asleep with i t and does not have that power of entertaining thoughts which it has when awake. Again, I th ink that all have ex­ perienced the fact that the mind is not always equally apt for concentrating on the same object; the mind is more apt to regard this or that object according as the body is more apt to have arising in it the image of this or that object.

"But," they will say, "it is impossible that the causes of buildings, pictures, and other things of th is kind, which are made by human skill alone, should be de­ duced solely from the laws of Nature considered only as corporeal, nor is the hu­ man body capable of building a temple unless it be determined and guided by mind." However, I have already pointed out that they do not know what the body

Part III, Proposition 2 28 1

can do , or what can be deduced solely from a consideration of its nature, and that experience abundantly shows that solely from the laws of its nature many thing. occur which they would never have believed possible except from the direction of mind -for instance, the actions of sleepwalkers, which they wonder at when they are awake. A further consideration is the very structure of the human body, which far surpasses in ingenuity all the constructions of human skill; not to men­ tion the point I made earlier, that from Nature, considered under any attribute whatsoever, infinite thing. follow.

As to the second point, the human condition would indeed be fur happier if it were equally in the power of men to keep silent as to talk. But experience teaches us with abundant examples that noth ing is less within men's power than to hold their tongues or control their appetites. From this derives the commonly held view that we act freely only in cases where our desires are moderate, because our ap­ petites can then be easily held in check by the remembrance of another th ing that frequently comes to mind; but when we seek something with a strong emotion that cannot be allayed by the remembrance of some other thing, we cannot check our desires. But indeed, had they not found by experience that we do many thing. of which we later repent, and that frequently, when we are at the mercy of con­ flicting emotions, we "see the better and do the worse;' there would be nothing to prevent them from bel ieving that all our actions are free. A baby th inks that it freely seeks milk, an angry child that it freely seeks revenge, and a timid man that he freely seeks flight. Again, the drunken man believes that it is from the free de­ cision of the mind that he says what he later, when sober, wishes he had not said . So, too, the del irious man, the gossiping woman, the child, and many more of this sort th ink that they speak from free mental decision, when in fact they are un­ able to restrain their torrent of words. So experience tells us no less clearly than reason that it is on this account only that men believe themselves to be free, that they are conscious of their actions and ignorant of the causes by which they are determined; and it tells us too that men tal decisions are noth ing more than the appetites themselves, varying therefore according to the varying disposition of the body. For each man's actions are shaped by h is emotion; and those who further­ more are a prey to confl icting emotions know not what they want, while those who are free from emotion are driven on to this or that course by a sl ight impulse.

Now surely all these considerations go to show clearly that mental decision on the one hand, and the appetite and physical state of the body on the other hand, are simultaneous in nature; or rather, they are one and the same thing which, when considered under the attribute of Thought and explicated through Thought, we call decision, and when considered under the attribute of Extension and deduced from the laws of motion-and-rest, we call a physical state. Th is will become clearer from later discussion, for there is now another point which I should l ike you to note as very important. We can take no action from mental de­ cision unless the memory comes into play; for example, we cannot utter a word unless we call the word to mind. Now it is not within the free power of the mind to remember or to forget anything. Hence comes the belief that the power of the mind whereby we can keep silent or speak solely from mental decision is restricted

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to the case of a remembered thing. However, when we dream that we are speak­ ing, we think that we do so from free mental decision; yet we are not speaking, or if we are, it is the result of spontaneous movement of the body. Again, we dream that we are keeping something secret, and that we are doing so by the same men­ tal decision that comes into play in our waking hours when we keep silent about what we know. Finally, we dream that from a mental decision we act as we dare not act when awake. So I would very much l ike to know whether in the mind there are two sorts of decisions, dreamland decisions and free decisions. If we don't want to carry madness so far, we must necessarily grant that the mental decision that is believed to be free is not distinct from imagination and memory, and is nothing but the affirmation which an idea, insofar as it is an idea, necessarily in­ volves (Pr. 49, II). So these mental decisions arise in the mind from the same ne­ cessity as the ideas of things existing in actuality, and those who believe that they speak, or keep silent, or do anything from free mental decision are dreaming with their eyes open.

PROPOSITION 3 The active states [actiones] of the mind arise only from adequate ideas; its passive states depend solely on inadequate ideas.

Proof The first th ing that constitutes the essence of the mind is nothing else but the idea of a body actually existing (Prs. 1 1 and 1 3, II), which idea is composed of many other ideas (Pr. 1 5 , II). of which some are adequate (Cor. Pro 38, II) while others are inadequate (Cor. Pro 29, II) . Therefore, whatever follows from the na­ ture of the mind and must be understood through the mind as its proximate cause must necessarily follow from an adequate idea or an inadequate idea. But insofar as the mind has inadequate ideas, it is necessarily passive (Prop. 1 , III). Therefore, the active states of mind follow solely from adequate ideas, and thus the mind is passive only by reason of having inadequate ideas.

Scholium We therefore see that passive states are related to the mind only in­ sofar as the mind has something involving negation: that is, insofar as the mind is considered as part of Nature, which cannot be clearly and distinctly perceived through itself independently of other parts. By the same reasoning I could demon­ strate that passive states are a characteristic of particular things just as they are of the mind, and cannot be perceived in any other way; but my purpose is to deal only with the human mind.

PROPOSITION 4 No thing can be destroyed except by an external cause.

Proof This proposition is self-evident, for the definition of anything affirms, and does not negate, the thing's essence: that is, it posits, and does not annul, the thing's essence. So as long as we are attending only to the thing itself, and not to external causes, we can find nothing in it which can destroy i t.

Part III, Proposition 8 283

PROPOSITION 5 Things are of a contrary nature, that is, unable to subsist in the same subject, to the extent that one can destray the other.

Proof If they were able to be in agreement with one other, or to coexist in the same subject, there could be someth ing in the said subject which could destroy it, which is absurd (preceding Pr. ) . Therefore . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 6 Each thing, insofar as it is in itself. endeavors to persist in its own being.

Proof Particular things are modes whereby the attributes of God are expressed in a definite and determinate way (Cor. Pr. 2 5 , I), that is (Pr. 34, I), they are things which express in a definite and determinate way the power of God whereby he is and acts, and no thing can have in itself anything by which it can be destroyed, that is, which can annul its existence (Pr. 4, III). On the contrary, it opposes every­ thing that can annul its existence (preceding Pr.) ; and thus, as far as it can and as far as it is in itself, it endeavors to persist in its own being.

PROPOSITION 7 The conatus' with which each thing endeavors to persist in its own being is nothing but the actual essence of the thing itself

Proof From the given essence of a thing certain things necessarily follow (Pr. 36, I), nor do things effect anything other than that which necessarily follows from their determinate nature (Pr. 29, I ) . Therefore, the power of any thing, or the cona­ tus with which it acts or endeavors to act, alone or in conjunction with other things, that is (Pr. 6, 1II), the power or conatus by which it endeavors to persist in its own being, is nothing but the given, or actual, essence of the thing.

PROPOSITION 8 The conatus with which each single thing endeavors to persist in its own being does not involve finite time, but indefinite time.

Proof If it involved a l imited period of time which would determine the dura­ tion of the thing, then solely from the power by which the thing exists it would follow that it could not exist after that limited period of time, but is bound to be destroyed. But (Pr. 4, lll), this is absurd. Therefore, the conatus with which a th ing exists does not involve any definite period of time. On the contrary (by the same Pr. 4, III), if i t is not destroyed by an external cause, it will always continue to ex-

I [The term "conatus" plays an Important role In Spmoza's psychology It expresses Spmoza's view that each thmg exemplifies an mherent tendency toward selfwpreseIVahon and activity. ThiS term has a long hlstOI)', gomg back to Cicero, who used It to express Anstotle's and the Stoics' notIOn of impulse (harme). It was later used by medieval and early modern philosophers, such as Hobbes, to con Dote the natural tendency of an organism to preserve itself 1

284 Ethics

ist by that same power by which it now exists. Therefore, this conatus involves an indefinite time.

PROPOSITION 9 The mind, both insofar as it has clear and distinct ideas and insofar as it has con­ tused ideas, endeavors to persist in its own being over an indefinite period of time, and is conscious of this conatus.

Proof The essence of the mind is constituted by adequate and inadequate ideas (as we showed in Pr. 3, III) , and so (Pr. 7, III) it endeavors to persist in its own be­ ing insofar as it has both these kinds of ideas, and does so (Pr. 8, III) over an in­ definite period of time. Now since the mind (Pr. 23, II) is necessarily conscious of itself through the ideas of the affections of the body, therefore the mind is con­ scious of its conatus (Pr. 7, III) .

Scholium When this conatus is related to the mind alone, it is called Will [vol­ untas] ; when it is related to mind and body together, it is called Appetite [appeti­ tus] , which is therefore nothing else but man's essence, from the nature of which there necessarily follow those thing> that tend to h is preservation, and which man is thus determined to perform. Further, there is no difference between appetite and Desire [cupiditas] except that desire is usually related to men insofar as they are conscious of their appetite. Therefore, it can be defined as follows: desire is "appetite accompanied by the consciousness thereof."

It is clear from the above considerations that we do not endeavor, will, seek af­ ter or desire because we judge a th ing to be good. On the contrary, we judge a thing to be good because we endeavor, will, seek after and desire it.

PROPOSITION 1 0 An idea that excludes the existence of our body cannot be in our mind, but is con­ trary to it.

Proof Whatsoever can destroy our body cannot be therein (Pr. 5, III), and so neither can its idea be in God insofar as he has the idea of our body (Cor. Pro 9, II); that is (Prs. I I and 1 3 , II), the idea of such a th ing cannot be in our mind. On the contrary, since (Prs. I I and 1 3 , II) the first th ing that constitutes the essence of the mind is the idea of an actually existing body, the basic and most important element of our mind is the conatus (Pr. 7, III) to affirm the existence of our body. Therefore, the idea that negates the existence of our body is contrary to our mind.

PROPOSITION 1 1 Whatsoever increases or diminishes, assists or checks, the power of activity of our body, the idea of the said thing increases or diminishes, assists or checks the power of thought of our mind.

Proof This proposition is evident from Pro 7, II, or again from Pr. 1 4, I I .

Scholium We see then that the mind can undergo considerable changes, and can pass now to a state of greater perfection, now to one of less perfection, and it

Part III, Proposition 12 285

is these passive transitions [passiones] that explicate for us the emotions of Plea­ sure [laetitia] and Pain [tristilia] . So in what follows I shall understand by pleas­ ure "the passive transition of the mind to a state of greater perfection," and by pain "the passive transition of the mind to state of less perfection." The emotion of pleasure when it is simultaneously related to mind and body I call Titillation [tit­ illatio] or Cheerfulness [hilaritas] ; the emotion of pain when i t is similarly related I call Angu ish [dolor] or Melancholy [melancholia] . But be it noted that titillation and anguish are related to man when one part of him is affected more than oth­ ers, cheerfulness and melancholy when all parts are equally affected. As to Desire [cupiditas] , I have explained what i t is in Sch. Pr. 9, III, and I acknowledge no pri­ mary emotion other than these three [ Le. pleasure, pain, and desire]; for I shall subsequently show that the others arise from these three. But before going further, I should l ike to explain Pr. 1 0 , III at greater length, so that there may be a clearer understanding of the way in which an idea may be contrary to an idea.

In Sch. Pro 1 7, II we demonstrated that the idea which constitutes the essence of the mind involves the existence of the body for as long as the body exists. Then from what we proved in Cor. Pr. 8, II and its Sch. , it follows that the present existence of our mind depends solely on this, that the mind involves the actual existence of the body. Finally we proved that the power of the mind whereby it imagines [imagi­ natur] and remembers things depends also on this (Prs. 17 and 1 8, II, and Sch.) , that it involves the actual existence of the body. From this it follows that the present existence of the mind and its capacity to perceive through the senses are annulled as soon as the mind ceases to affirm the present existence of the body. But the cause of the mind's ceasing to affirm this existence of the body cannot be the mind itself (Pr. 4, III), nor again that the body ceases to be. For (Pr. 6, II) the cause of the mind's affirming the existence of the body is not that the body began to exist; therefore, by the same reasoning, it does not cease to affirm the existence of the body on account of the body's ceasing to be. This results from another idea, which excludes the pres­ ent existence of our body and consequently that of our mind, and which is there­ fore contrary to the idea that constitutes the essence of our mind (Pr. 8, II).

PROPOSITION 1 2 The mind, as far as i t can, endeavors to think of those things that increase or assist the body's power of activity.

Proof As long as the human body is affected in a manner that involves the na­ ture of an external body, so long will the human mind regard that latter body as present (Pr. 1 7 , II) . Consequently (Pr. 7, II), as long as the human mind regards some external body as present, that is (Sch. Pr. 1 7 , II), thinks of it, so long is the human body affected in a manner that involves the nature of that external body. Accordingly, as long as the mind thinks of those things that increase or assist our body's power of activity, so long is the body affected in ways that increase or assist its power of activity (Post. I, III); and, consequently, so long is the mind's power of thinking increased or assisted (Pr. I I , III). Therefore (Pr. 6 or 9, III), the mind, as far as it can, endeavors to think of those th ings.

286 Ethics

PROPOSITION 1 3 When the mind thinks of those things that diminish or check the body's power of ac­ tivity, it endeavors, as far as it can, to call to mind those things that exclude the ex­ istence of the former.

Proof As long as the mind thinks of something of this kind, so long is the power of mind and body diminished or checked (as we have proved in the preceding proposition) . Nevertheless the mind will continue to th ink of it until it th inks of another th ing that excludes the present existence of the former (Pr. 1 7 , II); that is, (as we have just demonstrated), the power of mind and body is diminished or checked until the mind thinks of something else that excludes the thing's exis­ tence, something which the mind therefore (Pr. 9, III) endeavors, as far as it can, to th ink of or call to mind.

Corollary Hence i t follows that the mind is averse to th inking of things that di­ minish or check its power and the body's power.

Scholium From what has been sa id we clearly understand what are Love [amor] and Hatred [odium] . Love is merely "pleasure accompanied by the idea of an ex­ ternal cause," and hatred is merely "pain accompanied by the idea of an external cause." Again, we see that he who loves necessarily endeavors to have present and to preserve the thing that he loves; on the other hand, he who hates endeavors to remove and destroy the thing that he hates. But we shall deal with these matters more fully in due course.

PROPOSITION 1 4 If the mind has once been affected by two emotions a t the same time, when i t is later affected by the one it will also be affected by the other.

Proof If the human body has once been affected by two bodies at the same time, when the mind later thinks of the one it will straightway recall the other too (Pr. 1 8, II) . Now the images formed by the mind reflect the affective states of our body more than the nature of external bodies (Cor. 2, Pr. 1 6, II) . Therefore if the body, and consequently the mind (Oef. 3, JII), has once been affected by two emotions, when it is later affected by the one, i t will also be affected by the other.

PROPOSITION 1 5 Anything can indirectly [per accidens] be the cause of Pleasure, Pain, or Desire.

Proof Let it be supposed that the mind is affected by two emotions simultane­ ously, of which one neither increases nor diminishes its power of activity, and the other either increases it or diminishes it (Post. I , III) . From the preceding propo­ s ition it is clear that when the mind is later affected by the former as its true cause-which, by hypothesis, of itself neither increases nor diminishes the mind's power of th inking- it will straightway be affected by the other, which does in­ crease or diminish its power of thinking; that is (Sch. Pro I I , JII), it will be affected by pleasure or pain. So the former will be the cause of pleasure or pain, not

Part III, Proposition 17 287

through itself, but indirectly. In this same way it can readily be demonstrated that the former thing can indirectly be the cause of desire.

Corollary From the mere fuct that we have regarded a thing with the emotion of pleasure or pain of which i t is not itself the efficient cause, we may love or hate that thing.

Proof From this mere fact i t comes about (Pr. 1 4, III) that the mind, when later th inking of this th ing, is affected by the emotion of pleasure or pain; that is (Sch . Pro I I , III), the power of the mind and body is increased or diminished, etc. Con­ sequently (Pr. 1 2, III), the mind desires to think of the said thing, or is averse to it (Cor. Pr. 1 3 , III); that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III) , it loves or hates the said th ing.

Scholium Hence we understand how it can come about that we love or hate some things without any cause known to us, but merely from Sympathy and An­ tipathy, as they are called. We should also classity in this category those objects that affect us with pleasure or pa in from the mere fuct that they have some re­ semblance to objects that are wont to affect us with the same emotions, as I shall demonstrate in the next Proposition.

I real ize that the writers who first in troduced the terms "sympathy" and "an­ tipathy" intended them to mean certain occult qual ities. Nevertheless, I th ink it is permissible for us to denote by them qualities that are also fumiliar or manifest.

PROPOSITION 1 6 From the mere fact that we imagine a thing to have something similar to an ob;ect that is wont to affect the mind with pleasure or pain, we shall lave it or hate it, al­ though the point of similarity is not the efficient cause of these emotions.

Proof By hypothesis, the point of s imilarity has been regarded by us in the ob­ ject with the emotion of pleasure or pain; and so (Pr. 1 4, III) when the mind is af­ fected by its image, it will also straightway be affected by the one or other emotion . Consequently, the thing which we perceive to have this said point of similarity will indirectly be the cause of pleasure or pain (Pr. 1 5 , III); and thus (preceding Corol­ lary), we shall love or hate the thing even though the point of similarity is not the efficient cause of these emotions.

PROPOSITION 1 7 If we imagine that a thing which is wont to affect us with an emotion of pain, has something similar to another thing which is wont to affect us with an equally great emotion of pleasure, we shall hate it and love it at the same time.

Proof By hypothesis, this thing is in itself a cause of pain, and (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III) insofar as we imagine it with this emotion , we hate it. But, in addition, insofar as we imagine it to have something similar to another th ing which is wont to affect us with an equally great emotion of pleasure, we shall love it with an equally strong emotion of pleasure (preceding Pr. ) . So we shall hate it and love it at the same time.

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Scholium This condition of the mind arising from two confl icting emotions is called "vacillation," which is therefore related to emotion as doubt is related to imagination (Sch. Pr. 44, II), and there is no difference between vacillation and doubt except in respect of intensity. But it should be observed that in the preced­ ing Proposition I deduced these vacillations from causes which are, in the case of one emotion, a direct cause, and in the case of the other an indirect cause. Th is I did because they could in this way be more readily deduced from what had pre­ ceded, and not because I deny that vacillations generally arise from an object which is the efficient cause of both emotions. For the human body is composed (Post. I, II) of very many individual bodies of different nature, and so (Ax. 1 after Lemma 3, q.v. after Pr. 1 3 , II) it can be affected by one and the same body in many different ways; on the other hand, since one and the same thing can be affected in many ways, it can l ikewise affect one and the same part of the body in different ways. From this we can readily conceive that one and the same object can be the cause of many conflicting emotions.

PROPOSITION 1 8 From the image of things past or future man is affected by the same emotion of pleas­ ure or pain as {rom the image of a thing present.

Proof As long as a man is affected by the image of a th ing, he will regard the thing as present even though it may not exist (Pr. 1 7 , II and Cor.), and he does not th ink of it as past or future except insofar as its image is j oined to the image of past or future time (Sch. Pro 44, II). Therefore the image of a thing, considered solely in itself, is the same whether it be related to future, past, or presen� that is (Cor. 2, Pro 16 , II), the state of the body, or the emotion, is the same whether the image be of a th ing past or future or present. So the emotion of pleasure, and of pain, is the same whether the image be of a th ing past or future or present.

Scholium 1 Here I call a thing past or future insofar as we have been, or shall be, affected by it; for example, insofar as we have seen or shall see it, i t has re­ freshed or will refresh us, it has in jured or will injure us, etc. For insofar as we imagine i t in this way, to that extent we affirm i ts existence; that is, the body is not affected by any emotion that excludes the existence of the thing, and so (Pr. 1 7, II) the body is affected by the image of the thing in the same way as if the thing itself were present. However, since it is generally the case that those who have had much experience vacillate when they are regarding a th ing as future or past and are generally in doubt as to its outcome (Sch. Pro 44, II), the result is that emo­ tions that arise from similar images of things are not so constant, but are gener­ ally disturbed by images of other things until men become more assured of the outcome.

Scholium 2 From what has just been said we understand what is Hope [spes] , Fear [metus], Confidence [securitas] , Despair [desperatio] , Joy [gaudium], and Disappointment [conscientiae morsus] . Hope is "inconstant pleasure, arising from the image of a th ing future or past, of whose outcome we are in doubt." Fear is

Part III, Proposition 21 289

" inconstant pain, l ikewise arising from the image of a th ing in doubt: Now if the element of doubt be removed from these emotions, hope becomes confidence and fear becomes despa ir, that is "pleasure or pain arising from a thing which we have feared or have hoped." Joy is "pleasure arising from the image of a past th ing of whose outcome we have been in doubt." Finally, disappointment is "the pain opposite to j oy."

PROPOSITION 1 9 H e who imagines that what h e loves i s being destroyed will feel pain. If, however, he imagines that it is being preserved, he will feel pleasure.

Proof The mind, as far as it can, endeavors to imagine whatever increases or as­ sists the body's power of activity (Pr. 12 , Ill), that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , Ill), those things i t loves. But the imagination is assisted by whatever posits the existence of the thing, and, on the other hand, is checked by whatever excludes the existence of the thing (Pr. 1 7, II). Therefore, the images of things that posit the existence of the loved object assist the mind's conatus wherewith i t endeavors to imagine the loved object, that is (Sch. Pro I I , 1II), they affect the mind with pleasure. On the other hand, those things that exclude the existence of the loved object check that same conatus of the mind, that is (by the same Schol ium), they affect the mind with pain. Therefore, he who imagines that what he loves is being destroyed will feel pain, . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 20 He who imagines that a thing that he hates is being destrayed will feel pleasure.

Proof The mind (Pr. 1 3 , 1II) endeavors to imagine whatever excludes the exis­ tence of th ings whereby the body's power of activity is diminished or checked; that is (Sch. Pr. 1 3 , 1II), it endeavors to imagine whatever excludes the existence of things that it hates. So the image of a th ing that excludes the existence of what the mind hates assists th is conatus of the mind; that is (Sch. Pro 1 1 , Ill), it affects the mind with pleasure. Therefore, he who thinks that that which he hates is being destroyed will feel pleasure.

PROPOSITION 2 1 He who imagines that what he loves is affected with pleasure or pain will likewise be affected with pleasure or pain, the intensity of which will vary with the intensity of the emotion in the ob;ect loved.

Proof As we have shown in Proposition 19 , III, the images of things which posit the existence of the object loved assist the mind's conatus whereby it endeavors to th ink of the object loved . But pleasure posits the existence of that which feels pleasure, and the more so as the emotion of pleasure is stronger; for pleasure (Sch. Pro 1 1 , III) is a transition to a state of greater perfection. Therefore the image, which is in the lover, of the pleasure of the object loved, assists his mind's cona­ tus; that is (Sch. Pr. I I , Ill), it affects the lover with pleasure, and all the more to

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the extent that this emotion is in the object loved. That was the first point. Again, insofar as a th ing is affected with some pain, to that extent it is being destroyed, and the more so according to the extent to which it is affected with pain (same Sch . Pr. I I , III). Thus (Pr. 1 9, III), he who imagines that what he loves is affected with pain will l ikewise be affected with pain, the intensity of which will vary with the intensity of this emotion in the object loved.

PROPOSITION 22 If we imagine that someone is affecting with pleasure the object of our love, we shall be affected with love toward him. If on the other hand we think that he is affecting with pain the object of our love, we shall likewise be affected with hatred toward him.

Proof He who affects with pleasure or pain the object of our love affects us also with pleasure or pain, assuming that we think of the object of our love as affected with that pleasure or pain (preceding Pr. ) . But it is supposed that this pleasure or pain is in us accompanied by the idea of an external cause. Therefore (Sch. Pr. 1 3 , 1JI), if we think that someone is affecting with pleasure or pain the object of our love, we shall be affected with love or hatred toward h im.

Scholium Proposition 2 1 explains to us what is Pity [commiseratio], which we may define as "pain arising from another's hurt." As for pleasure arising from an­ other's good, I know not what to call it. Furthermore, love toward one who has ben­ efited another we shall call Approval [favor] , and on the other hand hatred toward one who has injured another we shall call Indignation [indignatio ] . Finally, it should be observed that we pity not only the thing which we have loved (as we have demonstrated in Pr. 2 1 ), but also a thing for which we have previously felt no emo­ tion, provided that we judge it similar to ourselves (as I shall show in due course). Likewise, we approve of one who has benefited someone l ike ourselves; and on the other hand, we are indignant with one who has in jured someone l ike ourselves.

PROPOSITION 2 3 He who imagines that what he hates is affected with pain will feel pleasure; if, on the other hand, he thinks of it as affected with pleasure, he will feel pain. Both of these emotions will vary in intensity inversely with the variation of the contrary emo­ tion in that which he hates.

Proof Insofar as the thing hated is affected with pain, it is being destroyed, and the more so according to the degree of pain (Sch. Pr. I I , 1JI) . So (Pr. 20, III) he who imagines the object hated to be affected with pain will, on the contrary, be affected with pleasure, and the more so as he imagines the object hated to be af­ fected with more pain. That was the first point. Again, pleasure posits the exis­ tence of that wh ich feels pleasure (same Sch. Pr. I I , Ill), and the more so as the pleasure is conceived to be greater. If anyone imagines him whom he hates to be affected with pleasure, this thought will check h is conatus (Pr. 1 3 , 1JI ) : that is (Sch . Pr. I I , Ill) , he who hates will be affected with pain, etc.

Part III, Proposition 26 291

Scholium This pleasure can scarcely be unalloyed and devoid of conflict of feel ing. For (as I shall forthwith demonstrate in Proposition 27) insofar as he imag­ ines a thing s imilar to himself to be affected with an emotion of pain, to that ex­ tent he is bound to feel pa in, and contrariwise ifhe imagines it to be affected with pleasure. But here it is only his hate that we are considering.

PROPOSITION 24 If we imagine someone to be affecting with pleasure a thing that we hate, we shall be affected with hate toward him too. If on the other hand we think of him as af­ fecting with pain the said thing, we shall be affected with love toward him.

Proof The proof follows the same lines as Pro 22, III.

Scholium These and similar emotions of hatred are related to Envy [invidia], which can therefore be defined as "hatred insofar as i t is considered to dispose a man to rejoice in another's hurt and to feel pain at another's good."

PROPOSITION 2 5 We endeavor to affirm of ourselves and of a n ob;ect loved whatever we imagine af­ fects us or the loved ob;ect with pleasure, and, on the other hand, to negate what­ ever we imagine affects us or the loved ob;ect with pain.

Proof What we imagine affects the object loved with pleasure or pain affects us with pleasure or pain (Pr. 2 1 , IJI). Now the mind (Pr. 1 2 , IJI) endeavors, as far as i t can, to think of things that affect us with pleasure; that is (Pr. 17 , II and Cor.), to regard them as present; and, on the other hand (Pr. 1 3 , Ill), to exclude the ex­ istence of things that affect us with pain . Therefore, we endeavor to affirm of our­ selves and the loved object whatever we imagine affects us or the object loved with pleasure, and vice versa.

PROPOSITION 26 We endeavor to affirm of that which we hate whatever we imagine affects it with pain, and on the other hand to deny what we imagine affects it with pleasure.

Proof This proposition follows from Proposition 23 , IJI, as does the preceding proposition from Proposition 2 1 , III.

Scholium Thus we see that it easily happens that a man may have too high an opinion of himself and of the object loved, and on the other hand too mean an opinion of the object of his hatred . This way of thinking, when it concerns the man who has too h igh an opinion of h imself, is called Pride [superbial , and is a kind of madness, in that a man dreams with his eyes open that he can do all those things that h is imagination encompasses, which he therefore regards as real, ex­ ulting in them, as long as he is incapable of th inking of those things that exclude their existence and limit his power of activity. Therefore, pride is "pleasure arising from the fact that a man has too high an opinion of himself." Again, "pleasure that arises from the fact that a man has too h igh an opinion of another" is called Over-

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esteem [existimatio] . Finally, "pleasure arising from the fuct that a man has too mean an opinion of another" is called Disparagement [despectus] .

PROPOSITION 27 From the fact that we imagine a thing like ourselves, toward which we have felt no emotion, to be affected by an emotion, we are thereby affected by a similar emotion.

Proof Images of things are affections of the human body, the ideas of which set before us external bodies as presen t (Sch. Pro 1 7, II); that is (Pr. 1 6, II), the ideas of these affections involve the nature of our own body and s imultaneously the na­ ture of the external body as present. If therefore the natu re of the external body is similar to the nature of our own body, then the idea of the external body in our th inking will involve an affection of our own body similar to the affection of the external body. Consequently, if we imagine someone l ike ourselves to be affected by an emotion, this thought will express an affection of our own body similar to that ernotion . So frorn the fuct that we irnagine a th ing l ike oUll>elves to be affected by an emotion, we are affected by a similar emotion along with i t. But if we hate a th ing similar to ourselves, to that extent (Pr. 23 , IIJ) we shall be affected by a contrary, not sirnilar, ernotion along with it.

Scholiurn This irnitation of emotions, when it is related to pain, is called Pity (see Sch . Pro 22, III), but when it is related to desire it is called Emulation [aem­ ulatio] , which is therefore "nothing else but the desire of some thing which has been engendered in us from the belief that others similar to ourselves have th is same desire."

Corollary I If we believe that someone, for whom we have felt no ernotion, af­ fects with pleasure a thing similar to ourselves, we shall be affected by love toward him. If, on the other hand, we believe that he affects the said object with pain, we shall be affected with hatred toward h irn.

Proof This is proved from the preceding Proposition in the same way as Propo­ s ition 22 frorn Proposition 2 1 , III .

Corollary 2 The fact that its distress affects us with pain cannot cause us to hate a th ing that we pity.

Proof Ifwe could hate it on that account, then (Pr. 23 , III) we should be pleased at i ts pain, which is contrary to our hypothesis.

Corollary 3 As far as we can , we endeavor to free from distress the thing that we pity.

Proof That which affects with pain a th ing that we pity affects us too with s im­ ilar pain (preceding Pr.), and so we shall endeavor to devise whatever annuls the existence of the forrner or destroys it (Pr. 1 3 , III): that is (Sch. Pr. 9, IIJ), we shall seek to destroy it; i.e. we shall be determined to destroy it. So we shall endeavor to free frorn its distress the thing we pity.

Part III, Proposition 29 293

Scholium This will or appetite to do good which arises from our pitying the thing to which we wish to do good is called Benevolence [benevolentia] , which is therefore "nothing else but desire arising from pity." As to love and hatred toward one who has done good or ill to a th ing that we think to be l ike ourselves, see Sch . Pro 22, III .

PROPOSITION 28 We endeavor to bring about whatever we imagine to be conducive to pleasure; but we endeavor to remove or destray whatever we imagine to be opposed to pleasure and conducive to pain.

Proof As far as we can, we endeavor to imagine whatever we th ink to be con­ ducive to pleasure (Pr. 1 2 , III) : that is (Pr. 1 7, II), we endeavor, as far as we can, to regard it as present, that is, existing in actual ity. But the conatus of the mind, that is, its power to th ink, is equal to and simul taneous in nature with the cona­ tus of the body, that is, its power to act (as clearly follows from Cor. Pr. 7 and Cor. Pro I I , II) . Therefore in an absolute sense we endeavor, that is, we seek and purpose (wh ich is the same thing by Sch. Pro 9, III) , to bring about its ex istence. That was our first point. Further, if we imagine that which we believe to be the cause of pain, that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III), that which we hate, as being destroyed, we shall feel pleasure (Pr. 20, III), and so (by the first part of this proposition) we shalI endeavor to destroy it, or (Pr. 1 3 , III) to remove it from us so as not to regard i t as present. That was our second point. Therefore we endeavor to bring about . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 29 We also endeavor to do whatever we imagine men2 to regard with pleasure, and on the other hand we shun doing whatever we imagine men to regard with ave711ion.

Proof From the fact that we imagine men love or hate something, we shalI love or hate the same thing (Pr. 27, III); that is (Sch. Pr. 1 3 , III), from that very fact we shall feel pleasure or pain at the presence of the thing. So (preceding Pr.) we shalI endeavor to do whatever we imagine men love or regard with pleasure . . . etc.

Scholium This conatus to do, and also to avoid doing, something simply in or­ der to please men is called Ambition [ambitio] , especially when we endeavor so earnestly to please the multitude that we do, or avoid doing, things to our own hurt or another's hurt; otherwise, it is calIed Kindl iness [humanitas]. Again, the pleasure with which we think of another's action whereby he has endeavored to please us I call Praise [faus] , and the pain with which, on the other hand, we dis­ l ike h is action I call Blame [vituperium].

Z Here, and In what follows, by "men" ) understand men for whom we have felt no emotion.

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PROPOSITION 30 If anyone has done something which he imagines affects others with pleasure, he will be affected with pleasure accompanied by the idea of himself as cause; that is, he will regard himself with pleasure. If, on the other hand, he imagines he has done something which affects others with pain, he will regard himself with pain.

Proof He who imagines he affects others with pleasure or pain will by that very fact be affected with pleasure or pain (Pr. 27, IJI) . Now since man (Prs. 19 and 23 , I I ) i s conscious of himself through the affections by which he i s determined to act, he who has done something which he thinks affects others with pleasure will be affected with pleasure along with the consciousness of himself as cause; that is, he will regard himself with pleasure. The contrary l ikewise follows.

Scholium Since love (Sch. Pr. 1 3, IJI) is pleasure accompanied by the idea of an external cause, and hate is pain also accompanied by the idea of an external cause, this pleasure and this pain are species of love and hatred. But as love and haired have reference to external objects, we shall assign different names to these emotions. The pleasure that is accompan ied by an external cause we shall call Honor [gloria] , and the pain that is its opposite we shall call Shame [pudor] ; but be it understood that th is is when the pleasure or pain arises from a man's belief that he is praised or blamed. Otherwise, the pleasure that is accompanied by the idea of an internal cause I shall call Self-contentment [Acquiescentia in se ipso ] , and the pa in that i s its opposite I shall call Repentance [paenitentia]. Again, since it is possible (Cor. Pro 1 7, II) that the pleasure with which a man imagines he af­ fects others is only imaginary, and (Pr. 2 5 , IJI) everyone endeavors to imagine of h imself whatever he thinks affects h imself with pleasure, it can easily happen that a vain man may be proud and imagine that he i s popular with everybody, when he in fact is obnoxious.

PROPOSITION 3 1 If we think that someone loves, desires, or hates something that we love, desire, or hate, that very fact will cause us to love, desire, or hate the thing more steadfastly. But if we think he dislikes what we love, or vice versa, then our feelings will fluctuate.

Proof From the mere fact that we imagine someone loves someth ing, we shall love that same thing (Pr. 27, IJI). But even apart from this consideration we are supposing that we love that same thing. Therefore, to the existing love there is added a further cause whereby it is nurtured, and by that very fact we shall love more steadfastly the object of our love. Again, from the fact that we think some­ one dislikes something, we shall dislike the same thing (by the same proposition) . But if we suppose that at the same time we love the th ing, we shall therefore at the same time love and dislike that th ing; that is (see Sch. Pro 1 7, III) , our feel ings will fluctuate.

Corollary From this and from Pro 28, IJI i t follows that everyone endeavors, as far as he can, that what he loves should be loved by everyone, and what he hates should be hated by everyone. Hence that saying of the poet:

Part III, Proposition 33 295

As lovers, let our hopes and fears be al ike, Insensitive is he who loves what another leaves. 3

Scholium This conatus to bring it about that everyone should approve of one's loves and hates is in reality ambition (see Sch. Pro 29, JII). So we see that it is in everyone's nature to strive to bring it about that others should adopt h is attitude to life; and while all strive equally to this end they equally h inder one another, and in all seeking the praise or love of all, they provoke mutual dislike.

PROPOSITION 32 If we think that someone enjoys something that only one person can possess, we shall endeavor to bring it about that he should not possess that thing.

Proof From the mere fact that we imagine somebody to enjoy something (Pr. 27, III and Cor. I) we shall love that th ing and desire to enjoy it. But by hypoth­ esis we think that this pleasure is impeded by the fact that that person is enjoying the thing in question. Therefore (Pr. 28, III), we shall endeavor to bring it about that he should not possess it.

Scholium We therefore see that human nature is in general so constituted that men pity the unfortunate and envy the fortunate, in the latter case with a hatred proportionate to their love of what they think another possesses (by the preceding Proposition) . Furthermore, we see that from the same property of human nature from which it follows that men are compassionate, i t likewise follows that they are prone to envy and ambition. Finally, we shall find that common experience con­ firms all these points, especially if we tum our attention to childhood. For we find that children, their bodies being, as it were, continually in a state of equilibrium, laugh or weep merely from seeing others laugh or weep, and whatever else they see others do they immediately want to imitate. In short, they want for themselves whatever they see others take pleasure in because, as we have said, the images of things are the very affections of the human body, that is, the ways in which the human body is affected by extemal causes and disposed to th is or that action.

PROPOSITION 3 3 If we love something similar to ourselves, we endeavor, as far as we can, to bring it about that it should love us in return.

Proof We endeavor, as far as we can, to th ink of something we love in prefer­ ence to other things (Pr. 12 , JII). So if the thing be l ike ourselves, we shall en­ deavor to affect it with pleasure in preference to other things (Pr. 29, JII); that is, we shall endeavor, as far as we can, to bring it about that the object of our love should be affected with pleasure accompanied by the idea of ourselves, that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III), that it should love us in return.

, [OVId, ArnoT", 1 1 , 19 .-5 5 J

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PROPOSITION 34 The greater the emotion with which we imagine the ob;ect of our love is affected to­ ward us, the greater will be our vanity.

Proof By the preceding proposition, we endeavor to bring it about, as far as we can, that the object of our love should love us in return; that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III), that the object of our love should be affected with pleasure accompanied by the idea of ourselves. So the greater the pleasure with which we think that the object of our love is affected because of us, the more is this endeavor assisted; that is (Pr. I I , III and Sch.) , the greater the pleasure with which we are affected. Now since our pleasure is due to our having affected with pleasure another person l ike our­ selves, we regard ourselves with pleasure (Pr. 30, III). Therefore, the greater the emotion with wh ich we think the object loved is affected toward us, with that much greater pleasure shall we regard ourselves; that is (Sch. Pro 30, III), the greater will be our vanity.

PROPOSITION 3 5 If anyone thinks that there is between the ob;ect of his love and another person the same or a more intimate bond of friendship than there was between them when he alone used to P081leSS the ob;ect loved, he will be affected with hatred toward the ob­ ;ect loved and will envy his rival.

Proof The greater the love wherewith one th inks the object of h is love is affected toward h im, the greater will be h is vanity (by the preceding proposition); that is (Sch. Pro 30, III), the more he will be pleased. So (Pr. 28, III) he will endeavor, as far as he can, to imagine the object loved as bound to him as intimately as possi­ ble, and this conatus, or appetite, is fostered if he imagines someone else desires the same thing for himself (Pr. 3 1 , III). But we are supposing that th is conatus, or appetite, is checked by the image of the object loved accompanied by the image of him with whom the object loved is associating. Therefore (Sch. Pr. I I , III), this will cause him to be affected with pain accompanied by the idea of the object loved as cause and simultaneously by the image of his rival; that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III), he will be affected with hatred toward the object loved and at the same time toward h is rival (Cor. Pro 1 5 , III), whom he will envy because (Pr. 23, III) he en­ j oys the object loved.

Scholium This hatred toward the object of one's love, j oined with envy, is called Jealousy [zelotypia] , which is therefore nothing else but "vacillation arising from simultaneous love and hatred accompanied by the idea of a rival who is envied." Furthermore, th is hatred toward the object of h is love will be greater in propor­ tion to the pleasure wherewith the jealous man was wont to be affected as a result of the returning of h is love by the object of h is love, and also in proportion to the emotion wherewith he was affected toward him whom he thinks of as being inti­ mately associated with the object of h is love. For ifhe used to hate him, that very fact will make him hate the object of h is love (Pr. 24, III) because he thinks of it as affecting with pleasure that which he hates, and also (Cor. Pr. 1 5 , III) because

Part III, Proposition 37 297

he is compelled to associate the image of the object of his love with the image of one whom he hates. This is generally the case with love toward a woman; for he who thinks of a woman whom he loves as giving herself to another will not only feel pain by reason of h is own appetite being checked but also, being compelled to associate the image of the object of h is love with the sexual parts of his rival, he feels d isgust for her. Then there is in addition the fact that the jealous man will not receive the same warm welcome as he was wont to receive from the object of his love, and this is a further reason for the lover's pain, as I shall now demonstrate.

PROPOSITION 36 He who recalls a thing which once afforded him pleasure desires to possess the same thing in the same circumstances as when he first took pleasure therein. Proof Whatever a man has seen together with the object that has afforded him pleasure will be indirectly a cause of pleasure (Pr. 1 5 , 1Il), and so (Pr. 28, 1Il) he will desire to possess all th is together with the object that afforded him pleasure, that is, he will desire to possess the object along with all the same attendant cir­ cumstances as when he first took pleasure in the object.

Corollary If therefore he finds one of those attendant circumstances missing, the lover will feel pain.

Proof Insofar as he finds some attendant circumstance missing, to that extent he imagines someth ing that exeludes its existence. Now since he desires that th ing or circumstance (preceding proposition) by reason of h is love, then (Pr. 19 , III) insofar as he thinks it to be lacking he will feel pain.

Scholium This pain, insofar as it regards the absence of that which we love, is called Longing [desideriuml .

PROPOSITION 37 The desire arising from pain or pleasure, hatred or love, i s proportionately greater as the emotion is grearer. Proof Pain diminishes or checks man's power of activity (Sch. Pr. I I , III), that is (Pr. 7, III), it diminishes or checks the conatus wherewith a man endeavors to per­ sist in his own being; and therefore it is contrary to this conatus (Pr. 5, III), and the conatus of a man affected by pain is entirely directed to removing the pain. But, by the definition of pain, the greater the pain, the greater the extent to which it must be opposed to man's power of activi ty. Therefore the greater the pain, with that much greater power of activity will a man endeavor to remove the pain; that is (Sch. Pr. 9, 1Il), with that much greater desire, or appetite, will he endeavor to remove the pain. Again, since pleasure (Sch. Pr. I I , III) increases or assists man's power of activity, it can readily be demonstrated in the same way that a man af­ fected with pleasure desires nothing other than to preserve it, and with all the greater desire as the pleasure is greater. Finally, since hatred and love are emotions of pain or pleasure, it follows in the same way that the conatus, appetite, or desire arising through hatred or love is greater in proportion to the hatred and love.

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PROPOSITION 38 If anyone has begun to hate the object of his love to the extent that his love i s com­ pletely extinguished, he will, other things being equal, bear greater hatred toward it than ifhe had never loved it, and his hatred will be proportionate to the strength of his former love.

Proof If anyone begins to hate the object of h is love, more of his appetites are checked than if he had never loved it. For love is pleasure (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III), which a man endeavors to preserve as far as he can (Pr. 28, Ill), and this he does (same Sch . ) by regarding the object loved as present and affecting it with pleasure (Pr. 2 1 , III), as fur as he can . This conatus (preceding Pr.) is the greater as the love is greater, as also is the conatus that the object loved should return h is love (Pr. 3 3 , III) . Bu t these conatus are checked by hatred toward the object loved (Cor. Pr. 1 3 and Pro 23 , III) . Therefore, for this reason, too, the lover will be affected with pain (Sch. Pro I I , III) which will be proportionate to his previous love; that is, in addi­ tion to the pain that was the cause of his hatred, a further pain arises from the fact that he has loved the object Consequen tly, he will regard the loved object with a greater emotion of pain, that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III), he will bear greater hatred to­ ward it than if he had not loved i t, and his hatred will be proportionate to the strength of his former love.

PROPOSITION 39 He who hares someone will endeavor to injure him unless he fears that he will suf­ fer a greater injury in rerum. On the other hand, he who loves someone will by that same law endeavor to benefit him.

Proof To hate someone is (Sch. Pr. 1 3 , III) to imagine someone to be the cause of one's pain. So (Pr. 28, III) he who hates someone will endeavor to remove or destroy him. But ifhe fears from him something more painful, or (which is the same th ing), a greater in jury, which he th inks he can avoid by not infl icting the harm he was intending on him whom he hates, he will desire to refrain from so doing (same Pro 28, III), and this conatus (Pr. 37, III) will be greater than that which was directed toward infl icting harm. This latter conatus will therefore pre­ vail, as we have said. The second part of this proof proceeds on the same l ines. Therefore, he who hates someone . . . etc.

Scholium By "good" I understand here every kind of pleasure and furthermore whatever is conducive thereto, and especially whatever satisfies a longing of any sort. By "bad" I understand every kind of pain, and especially that which frustrates a longing. For I have demonstrated above (Sch. Pro 9, III) that we do not desire a th ing because we j udge it to be good; on the contrary, we call the object of our desire good, and consequently the object of our aversion bad. Therefore, it is ac­ cording to his emotion that everyone judges or deems what is good, bad, better, worse, best, or worst. Thus the miser judges wealth the best thing, and its lack the worst th ing. The ambitious man desires nothing so much as public acclaim, and dreads nothing so much as disgrace. To the envious man nothing is more pleas-

Part III, Proposition 40 299

ant than another's unhappiness, and nothing more obnoxious than another's hap­ piness. Thus, every man j udges a thing good or bad, advantageous or disadvanta­ geous, according to h is own emotion.

Now the emotion whereby a man is so disposed as to refrain from what he wants to do or to choose to do what he does not want is called Timidity [timor], which is merely fear insofur as a man is thereby disposed to avoid by a lesser evil what he judges to be a future evil (see Pr. 28, III) . But if the evil that he fears is disgrace, then timidity is called Bashfulness [verecundia] . Finally, if the desire to avoid a fu­ ture evil is checked by the apprehension of another evil, so that he does not know what preference to make, then fear is called Consternation [constematio], espe­ cially if both the feared evils are of the greatest.

PROPOSITION 40 He who imagines he is hated Iry someone to whom he believes he has given no cause for hatred will hate him in rerum.

Proof He who imagines someone to be affected with hatred will by that very fact himself be affected with hatred (Pr. 27, III) , that is (Sch. Pr. 1 3 , III) , pain accom­ panied by the idea of an external cause. But, by hypothesis, he himself th inks that there is no other cause of this pain than he who hates him. Therefore, from the fact that he imagines that he is hated by someone, he will be affected by pain ac­ companied by the idea of him who hates h im; that is (by the same Sch . ) , he will hate that person.

Scholium But ifhe thinks that he has provided j ust cause for hatred, then (Pr. 30, III and Sch.) he will be affected with shame. But th is (Pr. 2 5 , Ill) is rarely the case. Furthermore, this reciprocation of hatred can also arise from the fuct that hatred is followed by a conatus to injure him who is hated (Pr. 39, Ill) . So he who imagines he is hated by someone will imagine him to be the cause of some evil or pa in, and so he will be affected with pain, or fear, accompanied by the idea of him who hates him as being the cause; that is, he will be affected with hatred in return1 as we said above.

Corollary 1 He who imagines that one he loves is affected with hatred toward him, will suffer the conflicting emotions of hatred and love. For insofar as he imag­ ines he is hated by him, he is determined to hate him in return (preceding Pr. ) . But, by hypotheSiS, he nevertheless loves him. Therefore, he will suffer the con­ fl icting emotions of hatred and love.

Corollary 2 If anyone imagines that he has suffered some injury through hatred at the hands of one toward whom he has previously fel t no emotion, he will im­ mediately endeavor to return the said in jury.

Proof He who imagines that someone is affected with hatred toward him will hate him in return (preceding Pr. ), and he will endeavor to devise anything that can affect that person with pain (Pr. 26, III) , and will seek to inflict it on him (Pr. 39, III). But, by hypothesis, the first thing of that kind that comes to his mind is

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the in jury that has been inflicted on himself. Therefore, he will immediately en­ deavor to inflict that same injury on that person .

Scholium The conatus to inflict in jury on one whom we hate is called Anger [ira] . The conatus to return an injury which we have suffered is called Revenge [vindicta] .

PROPOSITION 4 1 If anyone thinks that h e is loved by someone and believes that h e has given no cause for this (which is possible through Cor. Pr. 15 and Pr. 1 6, III), he will love him in return.

Proof This is proved in the same way as the preceding proposition. See also its Schol ium.

Scholiurn Ifhe believes that he has given j ust cause for th is love, he will exult in it (Pr. 30, III and Sch.) , which is more often the case (Pr. 2 5 , III); and we have said that the contrary occurs when someone th inks that he is hated by someone (see Sch. preceding Pr.) . Now this reciprocal l ove, and consequently (Pr. 39, III) the conatus to benefit one who loves us and who (same Pro 39, III) endeavors to benefit us, is called Gratitude [gratia Sell gratitudo] . So i t is evident that men are far more incl ined to revenge than to repay a benefit.

Corollary He who imagines that he is loved by one whom he hates will feel con­ flicting emotions of hate and love. This is proved in the same way as the first corol­ lary of the preceding proposition .

Scholium If hatred prevails, he will endeavor to in jure him by whom he is loved, and this emotion is called Cruelty [crudelitas] , especially if i t is believed that he who loves has not given any cause for hatred between them.

PROPOSITION 42 He who, moved by love or hope of honor, has conferred a benefit on someone, will feel pain if he sees that the benefit is ungratefully received.

Proof He who loves a thing similar to himself endeavors, as far as he can, to bring it about that he is loved in return (Pr. 33 , III) . So he who through love con­ fers a benefit upon someone does so through h is longing to be loved in return; that is (Pr. 34, III), through hope of honor, or (Sch. Pr. 30, III) pleasure. Thus (Pr. 12, III), he will endeavor as far as he can to imagine this cause of honor, i .e. to re­ gard it as actually existing. But, by hypothesis, he thinks of something else that ex­ cludes the existence of the said cause. Therefore (Pr. 1 9, III), by that very fact he will feel pain.

PROPOSITION 43 Hatred is increased by reciprocal hatred, and may on the other hand be destrayed by love.

Part III, Proposition 45 301

Proof If someone thinks that one whom he hates is affected with hatred toward him, a new source of hatred thereby arises (Pr. 40, III), while the old hatred, by hypothesis, still continues. But if, on the other hand, he thinks that the said per­ son is affected with love toward him, insofar as he thinks th is, he regards himself with pleasure (Pr. 30, III), and to that extent (Pr. 29, III) he will endeavor to please him; that is (Pr. 4 1 , III), to that extent he endeavors not to hate him nor affect him with any pain. This conatus (Pr. 37, III) will vary proportionately to the strength of the emotion from which it arises, and so if it should be greater than the emo­ tion which arises from hatred whereby he endeavors to affect the object of h is ha­ tred with pain (Pr. 26, III), it will prevail over it and will eradicate the feel ing of hatred .

PROPOSITION 44 Hatred that is fully overcome by love passes into love, and the love will therefore be greater than if it had not been preceded by hatred.

Proof The proof proceeds along the same lines as that ofPr. 38, III. For he who begins to love the object that he hated, that is, used to regard with pain, will feel pleasure by the very fact that he loves, and to this pleasure wh ich love involves (see its Def. in Sch. Pro 1 3 , III) is added the further pleasure arising from the fact that the conatus to remove the pain which hatred involves (as we demonstrated in Pro 37, III) is very much assisted, accompanied by the idea of the one whom he hated as being the cause.

Scholium Although th is is so, nobody will endeavor to hate an object or be af­ fected with pain in order to enjoy this greater feel ing of pleasure; that is, nobody will desire to suffer hurt in the hope of recovering his health. For everyone will endeavor always to preserve his own being and to remove pain, as far as he can. If i t were possible to conceive the contrary, that a man should wan t to hate someone so that he might later feel greater l ove for him, he will always wan t to be hating him. For the greater was the hatred, the greater will be the love; so he wi l l always want h is hatred to go on growing. And for the same reason a man wi l l endeavor to be more and more i l l so as later to en joy greater pleasure from the restoration of health. So he will always endeavor to be ill, which is absurd (Pr. 6, III) .

PROPOSITION 45 If anyone imagines that someone similar to himself i s affected with hatred toward a thing similar to himself, which he loves, he will hate him.

Proof The object loved returns the hatred of him who hates it (Pr. 40, III), and so the lover who thinks that someone hates the object loved is thereby made to th ink of the object of h is love as affected by hatred, that is (Sch. Pro 1 3 , III), as af­ fected by pain. Consequently he feels pa in (Pr. 2 1 , III), a pain that is accompa­ nied by the idea of him who hates the object of h is love as being the cause; that is (Sch. Pr. 1 3, III), he will hate him.

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PROPOSITION 46 If anyone is affected with pleasure or pain by someone of a class or nation different from his own and the pleasure or pain is accompanied by the idea of that person as its cause, under the general category of that class or nation, he will love or hate not only him but all of that same class or nation.

Proof This is evident from Pro 1 6 , III .

PROPOSITION 47 The pleasure that arises from our imagining that the object of our hatred is being destroyed or is suffering some other harm is not devoid of some feeling of pain.

Proof This is evident from Pr. 27, III . For insofar as we imagine a thing similar to ourselves to be affected with pain, to that extent we feel pain.

Scholium This Proposition can also be proved from Cor. Pro 1 7, I I . For when­ ever we call a th ing to mind, although it may not actually exist, we regard it as present, and the body is affected in the same way. Therefore insofar as h is re­ membrance of the thing is strong, to that extent the man is determined to regard it with pain. And whereas this determination, the image of the th ing still persist­ ing, is checked by the remembrance of those things that exclude its existence, it is not completely annulled, and so the man feels pleasure only insofar as this de­ termination is checked. Hence it comes about that the pleasure that arises from the harm suffered by the object of our hatred is revived whenever we call to mind the sa id thing. For, as we have said, when the image of the sa id th ing is activated, since it involves the existence of the th ing i t determines one to regard the thing with the same pain as when one was wont to regard it when i t did exist. But since one has associated with the image of the said th ing other images which exclude its existence, this determination to pain is immediately checked, and one feels a renewed pleasure, and this is so whenever the series of events is repeated.

It is th is same cause that makes men feel pleasure whenever they recall some past ill and makes them enj oy talking about perils from which they have been saved. For when they imagine some peril they regard it as though it were still to come and are determined to fear it, a determination which is again checked by the idea of their escape which they associated with the idea of this peril when they did in fact escape it. Th is idea makes them feel safe once more, and so their pleas­ ure is renewed.

PROPOSITION 48 Love and hatred toward, say, Peter are destroyed if the pain involved in the latter and the pleasure involved in the former are associated with the idea of a different cause; and both emotions are diminished to the extent that we think Peter not to have been the only cause of either emotion.

Proof This is evident merely from the definitions oflove and hatred, for which see Sch. Pro 1 3 , III . For pleasure is called love for Peter, and pain, hatred for Pe­ ter, for th is reason alone, that Peter is considered the cause of the one or other

Part III, Proposition 5 1 303

emotion. When this consideration is completely or partly removed, the emotion toward Peter disappears or is diminished.

PROPOSITION 49 Love and hatred toward a thing that we think of as free must both be greater, other conditions being equal, than toward a thing subject to necessity.

Proof A thing that we think of as free has to be perceived through itself inde­ pendently of other things (Def. 7 , I) . If therefore we think it to be the cause of pleasure or pa in, by that very fact we shall love or hate it (Sch . Pro 1 3 , III) , and with the utmost love or haired that can arise from the postulated emotion (pre­ ceding Pr. ) . But if we think of the thing which is the cause of the said emotion as subject to necessity, then we shall th ink of it not as the sole cause of the said emo­ tion but together with other causes (same Def. 7 , I), and so (preceding Pr.) love and haired toward it will be less.

Scholium Hence i t follows that, deeming themselves to be free, men feel more love and hatred toward one another than toward other thing.. Then there is the ad­ ditional factor of imitation of emotions, for which see Prs. 27, 34, 40, and 43, III.

PROPOSITION 50 Anything can be the indirect cause of hope or fear.

Proof This proposition is proved in the same way as Pro 1 5 , III , q.v. , together with Sch. 2, Pro 1 8, III.

Scholium Things that are indirectly causes of hope or fear are called good or bad omens. Again, insofar as these same omens are the cause of hope or fear, to that extent they are the cause of pleasure or pain (by Defs. of hope and fear, q.v. , Sch . 2 , Pr. 1 8, III) , a nd consequently (Cor. Pro 1 5 , III) to that extent we love o r hate them and (Pr. 2 8 , III) we endeavor t o procure them as means t o fulfil our hopes or to remove them as obstacles or causes of fear. Furthermore, it follows from Pro 2 5 , III that we are so constituted by nature that we are ready to believe what we hope and reluctant to believe what we fear, and that we overestimate and underestimate in such cases. Th is is the origin of Superstition [superstitiones] , to which men are everywhere a prey.

I do not th ink it worthwhile to demonstrate here the vacillations that arise from hope and fear, since it follows merely from the definition of these emotions that there is no hope without fear and no fear without hope (as 1 shall explain at greater length in due course) . Furthermore, insofar as we hope or fear something, to that extent we love or hate i t, and so everyone can easily apply to hope and fear what we have said concerning love and hatred.

PROPOSITION 5 1 Different men can be affected in different ways by one and the same object, and one and the same man can be affected by one and the same object in different ways at different times.

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Proof The human body (Post. 3, II) is affected by external bodies in a great many ways. So two men may be affected at the same time in different ways, and so (Ax. I after Lemma 3, q.v. , after Pr. 1 3 , II) they can be affected by one and the same object in different ways. Again (same Post.), the human body can be affected now in one way, now in another, and consequently (same Ax. ) it can be affected in dif­ ferent ways at different times by one and the same object.

Scholium We therefore see that it is possible that what one man loves, another hates, what one man fears, another fears not, and that one and the same man may now love what he previously hated and may now dare what he previously feared, and so on. Again, since everyone according to h is emotions judges what is good, what is bad, what is better and what is worse (Sch. Pr. 39, III) , it follows that men vary as much in judgment as in emotion ' So it comes about that in comparing different men we distinguish between them solely by difference of emotion, and call some fearless, others timid, and others by other epithets. For example, I shall call fearless one who despises an evil that I am wont to fear, and if furthermore I have regard to the fact that h is desire to inflict injury on one he hates and to ben­ efit one whom he loves is not checked by apprehension of an evil which is wont to restrain me, I shall call h im daring. Again, he who fears an evil which I am wont to despise will appear to me timid, and iffurthermore I have regard to the fact that his desire is checked by apprehension of an evil which cannot restrain me, I shall say he is cowardly. And this is how everyone judges. F inally, as a result of this char­ acteristic of man and the variabil ity of h is judgment-such as the fact that man's judgment is often governed solely by emotion, and that things which he believes to make for pleasure or pain and which he therefore (Pr. 28, III) endeavors to pro­ mote or remove are often merely imaginary, not to mention other points men­ tioned in Part II concerning the uncerta inty of things-we readily conceive that a man may often be responsible for the pain and pleasure that he feels; that is, for being affected both with pain and pleasure, accompanied by the idea of h imself as its cause. Thus, we readily understand what repentance [paenitentiaj and self­ contentment are. Repentance is pain accompanied by the idea of oneself as its cause, and self-contentment is pleasure accompanied by the idea of oneself as its cause, and these emotions are extremely intense since men believe themselves to be free (see Pr. 49, III) .

PROPOSITION 52 To an object that we have previously seen in conjunction with others or that we imag­ ine to have nothing but what is common to many other objects, we shall not give as much regard as to that which we imagine to have something singular.

Proof As soon as we think of an object that we have seen in conjunction with others, we immediately recall the others as well (Pr. 1 8, II and Sch. ) and thus from

4 We have shown In Sch. Pro 1 3 , II that tillS can be so although the human mind IS part of the divine intellect

Part III, Proposition 53 305

regarding the one we immediately pass on to regarding another. The same holds good of an object which we think to have nothing but what is common to many others. For by that very fact we suppose that we are regarding in it noth ing that we have not previously seen in other objects. But in supposing that we perceive in some object something special that we have never seen before we are saying only th is, that the mind, while regarding that object, contains nothing in itself to the contemplation of which it can pass on from contemplation of that object. There­ fore, the mind is determined to regard only that object. Therefore . . . etc.

Scholium This affection of the mind, or thought of a special th ing, insofar as it alone engages the mind is called Wonder [admiratio l, which, if evoked by an ob­ ject that we fear, is caIled Consternation, because wonder at an evil keeps a man so paralyzed in regarding it alone that he is incapable of thinking of other thing. whereby he might avoid the evil. But if that which we wonder at be a man's pru­ dence, industry, or something of that sort, since by that very fact we regard the man as far surpassing us, then wonder is called Veneration [veneratio] ; otherwise, if we are wondering at a man's anger, envy, and so on, we call it Horror [horror]. Again, if we wonder at the prudence, industry, etc. of a person we love, our love will thereby be the greater (Pr. 1 2, 1II), and this love joined with wonder or ven­ eration we call Devotion [devotio ] . We may also in the same manner conceive ha­ tred, hope, confidence, and other emotions as joined with wonder, and thus we can deduce more emotions than can be signified by accepted terms. Hence it is clear that the names for emotions have been taken from common usage rather than from detailed knowledge of them.

The opposite of wonder is Contempt [contemptusl , whose cause, however, is generally as foIlows. From seeing someone wondering at loving, fearing, etc. some­ thing, or because something at first sight seems s imilar to thing. that we wonder at, love, fear, etc. (by Pro 1 5 and Cor. and Pro 27, 1II) , we are determined to won­ der at, love, fear, etc. the same thing. But if from the presence of the thing or from closer contemplation we are compelled to deny of it all that can be the cause of wonder, love, fear, etc. , then the mind from the very presence of the thing remains determined to reflect on what is lacking in the object rather than what is in it, whereas from the presence of an object it is customary for the mind to reflect es­ pecially on what is in the object Further, just as devotion arises from wonder at a thing that we love, so does Derision [irrisio] from contempt for a th ing we hate or have feared, and Scorn [dedignatio] from contempt of foIly, just as veneration from wonder at prudence. Finally, we can conceive oflove, hope, honor, and other emo­ tions as joined with contempt, and therefrom we can deduce yet other emotions, which again we are not wont to distinguish from others by special names.

PROPOSITION 5 3 When the mind regards its own self and its power of activity, it feels pleasure, and the more so the more distinctly it imagines itself and its power of activity.

Proof Man knows himself only through the affections of his body and their ideas (Prs. 19 and 23 , II). When therefore i t happens that the mind can regard its own

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self, by that very fact it is assumed to pass to a state of greater perfection, that is (Sch. Pro I I , IJI) , to be affected with pleasure, and the more so the more distinctly i t is able to imagine itself and its power of activity.

Corollary The more a man imagines he is praised by others, the more th is pleas­ ure is fostered. For the more he thinks he is praised by others, the more he thinks that others are affected with pleasure by him, and this accompanied by the idea of h imself (Sch. Pro 29, IJI). So (Pr. 27, IJI) he is affected with greater pleasure, accompanied by the idea of himself.

PROPOSITION 54 The mind endeavors to think only of the things that affirm its power of activity.

Proof The mind's conatus, or power, is the very essence of the mind (Pr. 7, IJI) . But the essence of the mind affirms only what the mind is and can do (as is self­ evident), and not what the mind is not and cannot do. So the mind endeavors to think only of what affirms, or posits, its power of activity.

PROPOSITION 5 5 When the mind thinks o f its own impotence, by that very fact i t feels pain.

Proof The essence of the mind affirms only what the mind is and can do; that is, i t is of the nature of the mind to th ink only of those things that affirm its power of activity (preceding Pr.) . Therefore, when we say that the mind, in regarding it­ self, thinks of its own impotence, we are simply saying that while the mind is en­ deavoring to th ink of something that affirms its power of activity, this conatus is checked; that is, i t feels pain (Sch. Pro I I , IJI) .

Corollary This pain is fostered all the more if one thinks he is blamed by oth­ ers. The proof is on the same l ines as Cor. Pr. 5 3 , II\ ,

Scholium This pain, accompanied by the idea of our own impotence, is called Humility [humilitas]. The pleasure that arises from regarding ourselves is called Self-love [philautia] or Self-contentment [acquiescentia in se ipso] . And since th is pleasure is repeated whenever a man regards his own capabil ities, that is, h is power of activity, the result is again that everyone is eager to tell ofhis exploits and to boast of h is strength both of body and mind, and for th is reason men bore one another. From this i t again follows that men are by nature envious (see Sch. Pr. 24, and Sch. Pro 32, \II), that is, they rejoice at the weakness of their fellows and are pained at their accomplishments. For whenever a man imagines his own ac­ tions he is affected with pleasure (Pr. 53, IJI), and the more so as his actions ex­ press greater perfection and he imagines them more distinctly; that is (by what was said in Sch . l , Pr. 40, II), the more he can distinguish them from the actions of others and regard them as someth ing special. Therefore, everybody will most enjoy regarding himself when he regards in himself something that he denies of others. But if what he affirms of himself belongs to the universal idea of man or animal, he will derive no such great joy therefrom, and he will on the other hand

Part III, Proposition 56 307

feel pain ifhe thinks of h is actions as inferior, compared with the actions of oth­ ers. Th is pain (Pr. 28, JII) he will endeavor to remove by wrongly interpreting the actions of h is fellows or by embellishing h is own as much as he can. It is there­ fore clear that men are prone to hatred and envy, and this is accentuated by their upbringing. For parents are wont to incite their children to excellence solely by the spur of honor and envy. But perhaps there remains a shadow of doubt on the grounds that we not infrequently admire the virtues of men and venerate them. To remove this shadow of doubt I shall add the following Corollary.

Corollary Nobody envies another's virtue unless he is his peer.

Proof Envy is hatred itself (Sch. Pro 24, JII) or pain (Sch. Pro 1 3 , JII); that is (Sch . Pr. 1 1 , JII) , an affection whereby a man's power of activity, that is, his conatus, is checked. Now man (Sch . Pro 9, JII) endeavors or desires to do nothing save what can follow from h is given nature. Therefore, a man will not desire to be attributed to himself any power of activity, or (wh ich is the same thing) virtue, which is proper to the nature of another and foreign to his own. So his desire cannot be checked, that is (Sch. Pro 1 1 , III), he cannot be pained, by reason of his regarding some virtue in somebody unl ike himself; consequently he cannot envy him. But he would envy his peer, who is assumed to be of the same nature as himself.

Scholium So when we said in Sch . Pro 52, JII that we venerate a man as a re­ sul t of wondering at h is prudence, strength of mind, and so on, this comes about (as is obvious from the proposition) because we think these virtues are special to him and not common to our nature, and so we do not envy him them any more than we envy trees their height, lions their strength, etc .

PROPOSITION 56 There are as many kinds of pleasure, pain, desire and consequently of every e17Wtion that is compounded of these (such as vacillation) or of every emotion that is derived from these (love, hatred, hope, fear, etc), as there are kinds of ob;ects by which we are affected.

Proof Pleasure, pain, and consequently the emotions that are compounded of these or derived from them are passive emotions (Sch. Pro I I , III) . Now we are necessarily passive (Pr. I, JII) insofar as we have inadequate ideas, and only inso­ far as we have inadequate ideas are we passive (Pr. 3 , III). That is to say (Sch. Pr. 40, II), we are necessarily passive only to the extent that we fonn mental images [imaginamurl, i .e . (Pr. 1 7 , II and Sch. ) to the extent that we are affected in a way that involves both the nature of our own body and the nature of an external body. Therefore the explication of the nature of every passive emotion must necessarily include an expression of the nature of the object by which we are affected. The pleasure arising from object A involves the nature of object A and the pleasure arising from object B involves the nature of object B, and so these two emotions of pleasure are different in nature because they arise from causes of different na­ tures. So too the emotion of pain that arises from one object is different in nature from the pain that arises from a different cause, and this must also be understood

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of love, hatred, hope, fear, and vacillation. Therefore, there are necessarily as many kinds of pleasure, pain, love, hatred, etc. as there are kinds of objects by which we are affected. Now desire is the very essence, or nature, of each individ­ ual insofar as that is conceived as determined by some given state of its constitu­ tion to do something (Sch. Pro 9, III) . Therefore, according as each individual is affected from external causes with various kinds of pleasure, pain, love, hate, etc . , that is, according as h is nature is conditioned in various ways, so must h is desire be of different kinds; and the nature of one desire must differ from the nature of another to the same extent as the emotions, from which each single desire arises, differ amongst themselves. Therefore, there are as many kinds of desire as there are kinds of pleasure, pain, love, etc. , and consequently (by what has been proved) as there are kinds of objects by which we are affected.

Scholium Among the kinds of emotional states wh ich (by the preceding propo­ s ition) must be very numerous, most noteworthy are Dissipation [luxuria l, Drunk­ enness [ebrietas] , Lust [libido l, Avarice [avaritial , and Ambition [ambitiol , which are only concepts springing from love or desire, and which expl icate the nature of both these emotions through the objects to which they are related. For by dissipation, drunkenness, lust, avarice, and ambition we mean quite s imply un­ controlled love or desire for feasting, drinking, sex, riches, and popular acclaim. Furthermore, these emotions have no opposites insofar as we distinguish them from other emotions solely through the objects to which they are related. For Self­ control [temperantial , Sobriety [sobrietas] , and Chastity [castitas] , which we are wont to oppose to disSipation, drunkenness, and lust, are not emotions or passive states, but indicate the power of the mind that controls these emotions.

However, I cannot here give an account ofthe rema ining kinds of emotion, for they are as many as there are kinds of objects; nor, if I could, is it necessary. For it suffices for our purpose, which is to determine the strength of the emotions and the power of the mind over them, to have a general definition of all the individ­ ual emotions. I t is sufficient, I repea� to understand the common properties of the emotions and the mind so as to determine the nature and the extent of the mind's power in controlling and checking the emotions. So although there is a great difference between this and that emotion of love, hatred, or desire, e.g. be­ tween the love toward one's children and love toward one's wife, there is no need for us to investigate these differences and to trace any further the nature and ori­ gin of the emotions.

PROPOSITION 57 Any emotion of one individual differs from the emotion of another to the extent that the essence of the one individual differs from the essence of the other.

Proof This proposition is obvious from Ax. I , q.v. , after Lemma 3 Sch . Pro 1 3, II. But we shall nevertheless prove it from the definitions of the three primary emotions.

All emotions are related to desire, pleasure or pain, as is made clear by the definitions we have given of them. Now desire is the very nature or essence of

every single individual (see its definition in Sch. Pr. 9, 1II) . Therefore, the de­ sire of each individual differs from the desire of another to the exten t that the nature or essence of the one differs from the essence of the other. Again, pleas­ ure and pain are passive emotions whereby each individual's power, that is, h is conatus to persist in h is own being, is increased or diminished, assisted or checked (Pr. I I , J I I and Sch . ) . But by the conatus to persist in one's own being, insofar as i t is related to mind and body together, we understand appetite and desire (Sch. Pro 9, 1 I I ) . Therefore, pleasure and pain is desire or appetite, inso­ far as it is increased or diminished, assisted or checked, by external causes; that is, (by the same Sch. ) , it is each individual's very nature. So each individual's pleasure or pain differs from the pleasure or pain of another to the extent that the nature or essence ofthe one also differs from that of the other. Consequently, any emotion . . . etc.

Scholium Hence it follows that the emotions of animals that are called irra­ tional (for now that we know the origin of mind we can by no means doubt that beasts have feel ings) differ from the emotions of men as much as their nature dif­ fers from human nature. Horse and man are indeed carried away by lust to pro­ create, but the former by equine lust, the latter by human lust. So too the lusts and appetites of insects, fishes, and b irds are bound to be of various different kinds. So although each individual l ives content with the nature wherewith he is en­ dowed and rejoices in it, that l ife wherewith each is content and that j oy are noth­ ing other than the idea or soul [animal of the said individual , and so the joy of the one differs from the joy of another as much as the essence of the one differs from the essence of the other. Finally, it follows from the preceding proposition that there is also no small difference between the joy which guides the drunkard and the joy possessed by the philosopher, a point to which I wish to draw attention in passing.

So much for emotions that are related to man insofar as he is passive. It remains for me to add a few words concerning emotions that are related to man insofar as he is active.

PROPOSITION 58 Besides the pleasure and desire that are passive emotions, there are other emotions of pleasure and desire that are related to us insofar as we are active.

Proof When the mind conceives itself and its power to act, it feels pleasure (Pr. 5 3 , III) . Now the mind necessarily regards itself when it conceives a true, that is, adequate, idea (Pr. 43, II) . But the mind does conceive adequate ideas (Sch .2 , Pr. 40, II) . Therefore it feels pleasure, too, insofar as it conceives adequate ideas , that is (Pr. I , 1II) , insofur as it is active. Again, it is both insofur as it has clear and dis­ tinct ideas and insofar as it has confused ideas that the mind endeavors to persist in its own being (Pr. 9, III) . But by conatus we understand desire (Sch. Pro 9, III) . Therefore, desire is also related to us insofur as we understand, i .e . , insofur as we act (Pr. I , III) .

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PROPOSITION 59 Among all the emotions that are related to the mind insofar as it is active, there are none that are not related to pleasure or desire. Proof All emotions are related to desire, pleasure or pain, as is shown by the def­ initions we have given of them. Now by pain we understand that which dimin­ ishes or checks the mind's power of th inking (Pr. I I , IJI , and Sch.) . So insofar as the mind feels pain, to that extent its power of understanding, that is, its power of activity, is diminished or checked (Pr. I, IJI). So no emotions of pain can be re­ lated to the mind insofar as it is active, but only emotions of pleasure and desire, which (preceding Pr.) are to that extent also related to the mind.

Scholium All the activities which follow from emotions that are related to the mind insofar as it exercises understanding I refer to Strength of mind [fortitudo] , which I subdivide into Courage [animositas] and Nobility [generositas] . By courage I understand "the desire whereby every individual endeavors to preserve his own being according to the dictates of reason alone." By nobil ity I understand "the desire whereby every individual , according to the dictates of reason alone, endeavors to assist others and make friends of them." So I class ify under courage those activities that are directed solely to the advantage of the agen� and those that are directed to the advantage of another I classify under nobility. So self­ control, sobriety, and resourcefulness in danger, etc. are kinds of courage; Cour­ tesy [modestia] and Mercy [clementia] are kinds of nobil ity.

And now I think I have explained the principal emotions and vacillations that arise from the combination of the three basic emotions-desire, pleasure, and pain -and have clarified them through their first causes. From this it is clear that we are in many respects at the mercy of external causes and are tossed about l ike the waves of the sea when driven by contrary winds, unsure of the outcome and of our fate. But I have said that I have clarified only the principal confl icts of feel­ ing, not all that can be. For by proceeding in the same manner as above we can readily demonstrate that love is joined with repentance, scorn, shame, and so on. Indeed, from what has been said I th ink everyone is quite convinced that emo­ tions can be combined with one another in so many ways and give rise to so many variations that they cannot be numbered . But it suffices for my purpose to have enumerated only the principal emotions; for those I have passed over would be a matter of curiosity rather than util ity.

However, one further point should be observed concerning love. It frequently happens, while we are enjoying what we were seeking, that from that very enjoy­ ment the body changes to a new condition, as a result of which it is differen tly de­ termined and different images are activated in i t, and at the same time the mind begins to th ink of and desire other things. For example, when we think of some­ thing that is wont to del ight us with its taste, we desire to enjoy it, to eat i t. But while we are thus en joying it the stomach is being filled and the body is chang­ ing its condition. If therefore, with the body now in a different condition, the im­ age of the said food is fostered by its being set before us, and consequen tly also the conatus or desire to eat the food, this conatus, or desire, will be opposed by the

Part III, Definitions of the Emotions 3 1 1

new condition o f the body, and consequently the presence o f the food which we used to want will be hateful , and this is what we call Satiety [fastidium] and Weari­ ness [taedium] .

I have passed by those external affections of the body which can be observed in the case of emotions, such as trembl ing, pallor, sobbing, laughter, and so on, because they are related to the body without any relation to the mind. Finally, with regard to the definitions of emotions there are certa in points to be noted, and I shall thereIore repeat those deIinitions here in proper order, accompanied by such observations as I th ink necessary in each case.

DEFINITIONS OF THE EMOTIONS

I . Desire is the very essence of man insofar as h is essence is conceived as de­ termined to any action from any given affection of itself.

Explication We said above in Sch. Pro 9, m that desire is appetite accompanied by consciousness of itself, and that appetite is the very essence of man insofar as h is essence is determined to such actions as contribute to his preservation. But in the same Schol ium I also noted that in fact I acknowledge no difference between human appetite and desire. For whether or not a man is conscious of his appetite, the appetite remains one and the same. So to avoid appearing to be guil ty of tau­ tology, I decl ined to explicate desire through appetite; my object was so to deIine i t as to include all the endeavors of human nature that we term appetite, will, de­ s ire, or urge. I could merely have said: "Desire is the very essence of man insofar as h is essence is conceived as determined to some action"; but then it would not follow from this definition (Pr. 23, II) that the mind can be conscious of its own desire or appetite. Thus, in order to involve the cause of th is consciousness it was necessary (by the same Pr.) to add "from any given affection of itself." For by "any affection of the human essence" we understand "any condition [constitutio] of the said essence," whether i t be innate, whether it be conceived solely through the at­ tribute of Thought or solely through the attribute of Extension, or whether it be related to both attributes together. So here I mean by the word "desire" any of man's endeavors, urges, appetites, and vol itions, which vary with man's various states, and are not infrequently so opposed to one another that a man may be drawn in different directions and know not where to turn.

2 . Pleasure is man's transition from a state ofless perfection to a state of greater perfection.

3 . Pain is man's transition from a state of greater perfection to a state of less perfection.

Explication I say "transition," for pleasure is not perfection itself. If a man were to be born with the perfection to which he passes, he would be in possession of it without the emotion of pleasure. This is clearer in the case of pain, the contrary emotion. For nobody can deny that pain consists in the transition to a state ofless

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perfection, not in the less perfection itself, since man cannot feel pa in insofar as he participates in any degree of perfection. Nor can we say that pain consists in the privation of greater perfection , for privation is nothing, whereas the emotion of pain is an actuality, which therefore can be noth ing other than the actual ity of the transition to a state of less perfection; that is, the actual ity whereby a man's power of activity is diminished or checked (Sch. Pr. I I , 1lJ).

As to the definitions of Cheerfulness, Titillation, Melancholy, and Anguish, I omit them because they are related chiefly to the body, and are only species of pleasure and pain.

4. Wonder is the thought of any th ing on wh ich the mind stays fixed because this particular thought has no connection with any others. See Proposition 52 and its Scholium.

Explications In Sch. Pro 18, II we demonstrated the reason why the mind, from thinking of one thing, passes immediately on to the thought of another, and that is that in such cases the images are bound together and so ordered that one fol­ lows another. This concept cannot cover the case when the image is a strange one. The mind will be kept in contemplation of the sa id thing until it is determined by other causes to th ink of other things. So the thought of an unusual th ing, con­ s idered in itself, is of the same nature as other thoughts, and for this reason I do not count wonder among the emotions; nor do I see why I should do so, since this distraction of the mind arises from no positive cause that distracts i t from other things, but only from the lack of a cause for determining the mind, from the con­ templation of one thing, to think of other th ings.

Therefore, as I noted in Sch. Pro 1 1 , 1lJ, I acknowledge only three basic or pri­ mary emotions, pleasure, pa in, and desire; and I have made mention of wonder only because it is customary for certain emotions derived from the three basic emotions to be Signified by different terms when they are related to objects that evoke our wonder. There is an equally valid reason for my adding here a defini­ tion of contempt.

5. Contempt is the imagining [imaginatioj of some th ing that makes so l ittle impact on the mind that the presence of the thing motivates the mind to th ink of what is not in the th ing rather than of what is in the thing. See Sch . Pr. 52 , 1lJ.

I here pass over the definitions of Veneration and Scorn because, as far as I know, there are no emotions that take their name from them.

6 . Love is pleasure accompanied by the idea of an external cause.

Explication This definition explains quite clearly the essence of love. The def­ inition given by writers who define love as "the lover's wish to be united with the object of h is love" expresses not the essence oflove, but a property of i t, and since these writers have not suffiCiently grasped the essence of love, neither have they succeeded in forming any clear conception of its property. This has led to the uni­ versal verdict that their definition is very obscure. However, be it noted that when I say that in the case of a lover it is a property to wish to be united with the object of his love, by "wish" I do not mean consent or deliberate intention, that is, free decision (for in Pr. 48, II we proved this to be fictitious). nor again desire to be

Part III, Definitions of the Emotions 3 1 3

united with the loved object when i t i s absent o r t o continue i n its presence when it is there; for love can be conceived without any one particular desire. By "wish" I mean the contentment that is in the lover by reason of the presence of the ob. ject of h is love, by which the lover's pleasure is strengthened, or at least fostered.

7. Hatred is pain accompanied by the idea of an external cause.

Explication The points here to be noted can be easily perceived from the Ex­ plication of the preceding Proposition. See also Sch. Pro 1 3 , Ill .

8 . Inclination [fJropensio] is pleasure accompanied by the idea of a th ing which is indirectly the cause of the pleasure.

9. Aversion [aversio] is pain accompanied by the idea of a th ing which is in­ directly the cause of the pain . (For these see Sch. Pro 1 5 , 1 11 . )

10 . Devotion is love toward one at whom we wonder.

Explication We demonstrated in Pro 52, IJI that Wonder [admiratio] arises from the strangeness of a thing. So if it happens that we often think about the object of our wonder, we shall cease to wonder at it. So we see that the emotion of devo­ tion can easily degenerate into mere love.

I I . Derision is pleasure arising from our imagining that there is in the object of our hate someth ing that we despise.

Explication Insofar as we despise a th ing that we hate, to that extent we deny existence regarding i t (Sch . Pro 52, IJI) and to that extent we feel pleasure (Pr. 20, IJI). But since we are supposing that what a man derides he nevertheless hates, it follows that this pleasure is not unalloyed (Sch. Pro 47, IJI) .

12. Hope is inconstant pleasure arising from the idea of a th ing future or past, of whose outcome we are in some doubt.

1 3 . Fear is inconstan t pain arising from the idea of a th ing future or past, of whose outcome we are in some doubt.

For these see Sch . 2 , Pr. 18, III.

Explication From these definitions it follows that there is no hope without fear and no fear without hope. For he who is in hopeful suspense and has doubts as to the outcome of a thing is assumed to be imagining something that excludes the existence of the hoped-for th ing, and so to that extent he feels pain (Pr. 19 , IJI) . Consequently, as long as he is in hopeful suspense, he fears as to the outcome. On the other hand, he who is in a state offear, that is, is unsure of the occurrence of a th ing that he hates, is also imagining something that excludes the existence of the said thing, and so (Pr. 20, IJI) he feels pleasure, and to that extent he en­ tertains hope of its not happening.

14. Confidence is pleasure arising from the idea of a th ing future or past, con­ cerning which reason for doubt has been removed.

1 5 . Despair is pain arising from the idea of a thing future or past concerning which reason for doubt has been removed.

Explication Therefore confidence arises from hope and despair from fear when reason for uncerta inty as to the outcome of a thing has been removed. This comes

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about either because man imagines a th ing past or future as being at hand and re­ gards it as present, or because he thinks of other things that exclude the existence of those things that were causing his uncertainty. For although we can never be certain as to the outcome of particular things (Cor. Pro 3 1 , II), it is possible for us not to be doubtful as to their outcome. For we have demonstrated (Sch. Pro 49, II) that not having doubts concerning a thing is different from being certain of the thing. So it is possible for us to be affected by the same emotion of pleasure or pain from the image of a th ing past or future as from the image of a th ing present, as we proved in Proposition 1 8, IIJ, q. v. , with Sch.

1 6. Joy is pleasure accompanied by the idea of a past th ing whose outcome was contrary to our fear.

1 7 . Disappointment [conscientiae morsus] is pain accompanied by the idea of a past th ing whose outcome was contrary to our hope.

1 8. Pity is pain accompanied by the idea of ill that has happened to another whom we think of as l ike ourselves. See Sch. Pr. 22 and Sch. Pro 27, III .

Explication There seems to be no difference between pity and compassion [misericordia] , unless perhaps p ity has reference to a particular occurrence of emotion, while compassion has regard to a set disposition to that emotion.

1 9. Approbation is love toward one who has benefited another. 20. Indignation is hatred toward one who has in jured another.

Explication I know that these words are commonly used with a different mean­ ing. But my purpose is to explain not the meaning of words but the nature of things, and to assign to things terms whose common meaning is not very far away from the meaning I decide to give them. Let th is one reminder suffice. As to the cause of these emotions, see Cor. I , Pr. 27 and Sch. Pro 22, III .

2 1 . Over-esteem is to th ink too highly of someone by reason of love. 22 . Disparagement [despectus] is to think too meanly of someone by reason of

hatred.

Explication Over-esteem is therefore a result, or a property, of love, and dis­ paragement of hatred. So over-esteem can also be defined as "love, insofar as i t so affects a man that he thinks too h ighly of the object of his love"; and disparage­ ment as "hatred, insofar as it so affects a man that he thinks too meanly of the ob­ ject of his hatred." For these see Sch. Pro 26, III .

23. Envy is hatred, insofar as it so affects a man that he is pained at another's good fortune and rejoices at another's ill-fortune.

Explication The opposite of envy is commonly said to be compassion which therefore, with some distortion of its usual meaning, can be defined thus:

24. Compassion is love, insofar as i t so affects a man that he rejoices at an­ other's good and feels pain at another's hurt.

Explication As to envy, see Sch . Pro 24, IIJ and Sch. Pro 32, IIJ. Such are the emotions of pleasure and pain which are accompanied by the

idea of an external th ing as direct [per se] or indirect [per accidens] cause. From

Part III, Definitions of the Emotions 3 1 5

these I pass o n to other emotions which are accompanied b y the idea o f a n in ter­ nal th ing as cause.

2 5 . Self-contentment is pleasure arising from a man's contemplation of h im­ self and h is power of activity.

26. Humil ity is pain arising from a man's contemplation of his own impo­ tence, or weakness.

Explication Self-contentment is the opposite of humil ity insofar as by the for­ mer we understand pleasure that arises from our regarding our power of activity. But insofar as we also understand by it pleasure accompanied by the idea of some deed wh ich we think we have done from free decision of the mind, then its op­ posite is repentance, which we define thus:

27. Repentance is pa in accompanied by the idea of some deed which we be­ lieve we have done from free decision of the mind.

Explication We have demonstrnted the causes of these emotions in Sch. Pr . 5 1 , 1lI and Prs. 5 3 , 54, 5 5 , llI and its Sch. As for free decision of the mind, see Sch. Pr. 3 5 , I I . But here we should also note that it is not surprising that all our actions that are customarily called wrong are followed by pain, and those which are said to be right, by pleasure. For we readily understand from what has been said that our up­ bringing is ch iefly responsible for th is. By disapproving of wrong actions and fre­ quently rebuking their children when they commit them, and contrariwise by approving and praising right actions, parents have caused the former to be asso­ ciated with painful feel ings and the latter with pleasurable feel ings. This is fur­ ther confirmed by experience. For not all people have the same customs and rel igion. What some hold as sacred, others regard as profune; what some hold as honorable, others regard as disgraceful. So each individual repents of a deed or exults in it according to h is upbringing.

28. Pride is thinking too h ighly of oneself by reason of self-love.

Explication So pride differs from over-esteem, for the latter is related to an ex­ ternal objec� while pride is related to a subject who thinks too h ighly of himself. However, as over-esteem is an effect or property oflove, so is pride of self-love, and so i t can also be defined as "love of self, or self-contentment, insofur as it so affects a man that he thinks too highly of himself' (see Sch. Pr. 26, llI) . This emotion has no opposite, for nobody thinks too meanly of himself by reason of self-hatred . In­ deed, nobody thinks too meanly of himself insofur as he thinks this or that is beyond his capability. For whenever a man thinks something is beyond h is capa­ bility, he necessarily th inks so, and by this belief he is so conditioned that he re­ ally cannot do what he thinks he cannot do. For while th inking that he cannot do this or that, he is not determined to do i t, and consequently it is impossible that he should do it.

However, if we direct our attention solely to the way that others see him, we can conceive it as possible that a man may think too meanly of himself. For i t can happen that a man, regarding with pain h is own weakness, should think that every­ one despises him, and th is while the rest of the world is very fur from despising

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him. Furthermore, a man may think too meanly of himself if he denies of h im­ self in present time something related to future time of wh ich he is not sure, as that he may say that he cannot achieve any certa inty, or that he can desire or do nothing that is not wrong or disgraceful, and so on. Again, we can say that a man thinks too meanly of himself when we see that from excessive fear of disgrace he does not dare what others who are h is peers dare. So we can take this emotion , which I shall call Self-abasement [ab;ectio ] , to be the opposite of pride. For as pride arises from self-contentment, so self-abasement arises from humil i ty. There­ fore we shall define it as follows:

29. Self-abasement is th inking too meanly of oneself by reason of pain .

Explication We usually oppose humil ity to pride, but then we are having regard to the effects of the two emotions rather than their nature. For we usually apply the term "proud" to one who exults overmuch [Sch. Pro 30, III ] , who talks only of his own virtues and the faults of others, who expects to take precedence over all, and who goes about with the pomp and style usually affected by those far above him in station. On the other hand, we apply the term "humble" to one who blushes frequently, who confesses h is faults and talks of the virtues of others, who gives way to all, and who goes about downcast and careless of h is appearance.

Now these emotions, humil ity and self-abasement, are very rare; for human na­ ture, considered in itself, strives against them as far as it can (Prs. 1 3 and 54, III) . So those who are believed to be most self-abased and humble are generally the most ambitious and envious.

30. Honor is pleasure accompanied by the idea of some action of ours which we think that others pra ise.

3 1 . Shame is pain accompanied by the idea of some action of ours that we think that others censure.

Explication For these, see Sch. Pr. 30, III. But one should here observe the dif­ ference between shame and bashfulness. Shame is the pain that follows on a deed of which we are ashamed. Bashfulness is the fear or apprehension of shame, whereby a man is restra ined from some disgraceful act. The opposite of bashful­ ness is usually Impudence [impudentia] , which is not really an emotion, as I shall demonstrate in due course. But the names of emotions, as I have noted, have re­ gard more to usage than to their nature.

Herewith I have completed my proposed task of explicating the emotions of pleasure and pain. I now pass on to those emotions that are related to desire.

32. Longing is desire or appetite for possessing something, a desire fostered by remembrance of the said th ing and at the same time checked by remembrance of other things that exclude the existence of the said object of appetite.

Explication As I have often said, when we recall someth ing we are thereby con­ ditioned to regard i t with the same emotion as if the thing were actually present. But in our waking hours, this disposition or conatus is generally restra ined by the images of things that exclude the existence of that which we recall. So when we remember a th ing that affected us with some kind of pleasure, by that very fact we

Part III, Definitions of the Emotions 3 1 7

endeavor to regard it as present along with that same emotion o f pleasure; but th is conatus is straightway checked by the remembrance of thing. that exclude the ex­ istence of the said th ing. Therefore longing is really the opposite pain to the pleas­ ure that arises from the absence of a thing that we hate, concerning which see Sch . Pro 47, III . But as the word "longing" seems to have regard to desire, I clas­ sify this emotion under emotions of desire.

33. Emulation is the desire for something, engendered in us from the fact that we think others to have the same desire.

Explication When someone flees because he sees others fleeing, or fears be­ cause he sees others fearing, or again, on seeing that someone has burnt his hand, draws his hand back and makes a movement of the body as if his own hand were burnt, we say that he is imitating another's emotion, not that he is emulating him. This is not because we realize that the causes of imitation and emulation are dif­ ferent, but because it is the usual practice to call only him emulous who imitates what we judge to be honorable, useful, or pleasant. As to the cause of emulation, see Pro 27, 1II and Sch. As to the reason why envy is generally associated with th is emotion, see Pro 32, III and Sch.

34. Gratitude is the desire, or eagemess oflove [amoris studium], whereby we endeavor to benefit one who, from a l ike emotion of love, has bestowed a benefit on us. See Pr. 39, and Sch. Pro 4 1 , III.

35. Benevolence is the desire to benefit one whom we pity. See Sch. Pr. 27, 1II .

36. Anger is the desire whereby we are urged from hatred to infl ict in jury on one whom we hate. See Pr. 39, 1II .

37. Revenge is the desire whereby we are urged from mutual hatred to infl ict in jury on one who, from like emotion, has in jured us. See Cor. 2, Pro 40, 1II and Sch .

38. Cruelty, or savageness [saevitia] , is the desire whereby someone is urged to inflict injury on one whom we love or whom we pity.

Explication The opposite of cruelty is mercy, which is not a passive emotion but the power of the mind whereby a man controls anger and revenge.

39. Timidity is the desire to avoid a greater evil, which we fear, by a lesser evil . See Sch. Pro 39, 1II .

40. Boldness is the desire whereby someone is urged to some dangerous ac­ tion wh ich h is fellows fear to undertake.

4 1 . Cowardice is a term appl ied to one whose desire is checked by apprehen­ sion of a danger which his fellows dare to face.

Explication So cowardice is simply the fear of some evil which most people are not wont to fear. So I do not classify i t as an emotion of desire. Stil l , I have de­ cided to explain it here because it is the opposite of boldness insofar as we attend to desire.

42. Consternation is a term appl ied to one whose desire to avoid evil is checked by a feel ing of wonder at the evil that he fears.

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Explication So constemation is a kind of cowardice. But since constemation arises from a twofold timorousness, it can therefore more fittingly be defined as "fear that holds a man in such a state of stupefaction and hesitation that he is not able to remove the evil ." I say "stupefaction" inasmuch as we mean that his desire to remove the evil is checked by a feeling of wonder. I say "hesitation" insofar as we conceive the said desire to be checked by apprehension of another evil by which he is equally tormented, with the result that he knows not wh ich of the two to avert. For this see Sch. Pr. 39 and Sch. Pro 52 , III . With regard to cowardice and boldness, see Sch. Pro 5 1 , III.

43. Courtesy [humanitasj or Politeness [modestiaj is desire to do things that please men and avoid things that displease them.

44. Ambition is the immoderate desire for honor.

Explication Ambition is the desire whereby all emotions (Prs. 27 and 3 1 , III) are encouraged and strengthened; and thus this emotion can scarcely be over­ come. For as long as a man is subject to any desire, he is necessarily subject to this one. "The best men," said Cicero, "are particularly led by the hope of renown . Even philosophers, in the books that they write in condemnation of fame, add their names thereto . . . " and so on.5

45. DiSSipation is the immoderate desire, or also love, of sumptuous l iving. 46. Drunkenness is the immoderate desire and love of drinking. 47. Avarice is the immoderate desire and love of riches. 48. Lust is also the desire and love of sexual intercourse.

Explication Whether th is desire for sex is moderate or not, it is usually called lust.

These five emotions (as I noted in Sch. Pr. 56, III) have no opposites. For po­ l i teness is a species of ambition (conceming which see Sch. Pro 29, III) ; and self­ control, sobriety, and chastity, too, I have already noted as indicating the power of the mind, not its passivity. And although it is possible that a miser, an ambitious or a timid man may absta in from excessive food, drinking and sex, yet avarice, am­ bition, and timidity are not the opposites of diss ipation, drunkenness, and lust. For the miser generally longs to gorge himself on other people's food and drink. The ambitious man will not exercise any kind of self-control if secrecy is assured; and if he should l ive in the company of drunkards and l ibertines, he will be more prone to these vices because he is ambitious. The timid man does what he wants not to do. AI though the miser may cast his riches into the sea to avoid death, he nevertheless remains a miser. If a l ibertine is pained at not being able to indulge himself, he does not on that account cease to be a l ibertine. Fundamentally, these emotions do not have regard so much to the activities of sumptuous l iving, drink­ ing, and so on, as to appetite and love. Therefore, these emotions have no oppo­ sites except for courage and nobil ity, with which I shall deal hereafter.

5 [Cicero, Pro Archla. I I .-S S J

Part III, General Defmiticm ofEmotiom 3 1 9

I pass over the definitions o f jealousy and other vacillations, both because they arise from the combination of emotions which we have already defined and be­ cause the majority have no names, which shows that for practical purposes it suf­ fices to know them in a general way. Now it is clear from the definitions of the emotions we have dealt with that they all spring from desire, pleasure, or pa in, or rather that they are noth ing apart from these three emotions, each of which is wont to appear under various names according to their various contexts and ex­ trinsic characteristics. If now we direct our attention to these basic emotions and to the explanation we have already given of the nature of the mind, we can define emotions, insofar as they are related only to the mind, as follows:

GENERAL DEFINITION OF EMOTIONS

The emotion called a passive experience is a confused idea whereby the mind af­ firms a greater or less force of existence of its body, or part of its body, than was previously the case, and by the occurrence of which the mind is determined to th ink of one thing rather than another.

Explication I say in the first place that an emotion, or passivity of the mind, is a "confused idea." For we have demonstrated (Pr. 3, III) that the mind is passive only to the extent that i t has inadequate or confused ideas. Next, I say "whereby the mind affirms a greater or less force of existence of its body or part of its body than was previously the case." For all ideas that we have of bodies indicate the actual physi­ cal state of our own body rather than the nature of the extemal body (Cor. 2, Pr. 1 6, II) . Now the idea that constitutes the specific reality of emotion must indicate or express the state of the body or some part of i t, which the body or some part of it possesses from the fact that its power of activity or force of existence [vis existendi] is increased or diminished, assisted or checked. But it should be noted that when I say "a greater or less force of existence than was previously the case;' I do not mean that the mind compares the body's present state with its past state, but that the idea that constitutes the specific reality of emotion affirms of the body some­ thing that in fact involves more or less reality than was previously the case. And s ince the essence of the mind consists in this (Prs. I I and 1 3 , II), that i t affirms the actual existence of its body, and by perfection we mean the very essence of a thing, it therefore follows that the mind passes to a state of greater or less perfection when it comes about that it affirms of its body, or some part of it, something that involves more or less reality than was previously the case. So when I said above that the mind's power of th inking increases or diminishes, I meant merely this, that the mind has formed an idea of its body or some part of it that expresses more or less reality than it had been affirming of it. For the excellence of ideas and the actual power of thinking are measured by the excellence of the object. Lastly, I added "by the occurrence of which the mind is determined to th ink of one thing rather than another" in order to express the nature of desire in addition to the nature of pleas­ ure and pain as explicated in the first part of the definition.

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PART IV

OF HUMAN BONDAGE, OR THE STRENGTH OF THE EMOTIONS

PREFACE

I assign the term "bondage" to man's lack of power to control and check the emo­ tions. For a man at the mercy of his emotions is not h is own master but is subject to fortune, in whose power he so l ies that he is often compelled, although he sees the better course, to pursue the worse. In th is Part I have set myself the task of demonstrating why this is so, and also what is good and what is bad in emotions. But before I begin, I should l ike to make a few preliminary observations on per­ fection and imperfection, and on good and bad.

He who has undertaken something and has brought it to completion I will say that the thing is completed; and not only he but everyone who rightly knew, or thought he knew, the intention and aim of the author of that work. For example, if anyone sees a work (which I assume is not yet finished) and knows that the a im of the author is to build a house, he will say that the house is imperfect. On the other hand, as soon as he sees that the work has been brought to the conclusion that its author had intended to give it, he will say that it is perfect. But if anyone sees a work whose l ike he had never seen before, and he does not know the artifi­ cer's intention, he cannot possibly know whether the work is perfect or imperfect.

This appears to have been the original meaning of these terms. But when men began to form general ideas and to devise ideal types of houses, buildings, towers, and so on, and to prefer some models to others, it came about that each called "perfect" what he saw to be in agreement with the general idea he had formed of the said th ing, and "imperfect" that which he saw at variance with his own pre­ conceived ideal , although in the artificer's opinion it had been fully completed. There seems to be no other reason why even natural phenomena (those not made by human hand) should commonly be called perfect or imperfect For men are wont to form general ideas both of natural phenomena and of artifacts, and these ideas they regard as models, and they believe that Nature (which they consider does nothing without an end in view) looks to these ideas and holds them before

1 [The Latin term perfectus. which is cruCial In thIS Preface, can mean both "perfect" and "com­ pleted." For Spinoza the emphasiS here IS upon completion - that whICh has been flDlshed or ac­ complished IS perfect; contrarily, that whIch IS not yet completed IS Imperfect Sptnoza will go on to say that we eventually learn to make evaluative Judgments on the bastS of what we have come to take as completed specimens of things. The latter now become normahve models for further com­ panson and valuation. J

Part lV, Preface 32 1

herself as models. So when they see something occurring in Nature at variance with their preconceived ideal of the thing in question, they believe that Nature has then fa iled or blundered and has left that th ing imperfect. So we see that men are in the habit of call ing natural phenomena perfect or imperfect from their own preconceptions rather than from true knowledge. For we have demonstrated in Appendix, Part I that Nature does not act with an end in view; that the etemal and infinite being, whom we call God, or Nature, acts by the same necessity whereby it exists. That the necessity of his nature whereby he acts is the same as that whereby he exists has been demonstrated (Prop. 16 , I). So the reason or cause why God, or nature, acts, and the reason or cause why he exists, are one and the same. Therefore, just as he does not exist for an end, so he does not act for an end; just as there is no beginning or end to his existing, so there is no beginning or end to his acting. What is termed a "final cause" is noth ing but human appetite insofar as it is considered as the starting point or primary cause of some thing. For exam­ ple, when we say that being a place of habitation was the final cause of this or that house, we surely mean no more than this, that a man, from thinking of the ad­ vantages of domestic l ife, had an urge to build a house. Therefore, the need for a habitation insofar as it is considered as a final cause is nothing but th is particular urge, which is in reality an efficient cause, and is considered as the prime cause because men are commonly ignorant of the causes of their own urges; for, as I have repeatedly said, they are conscious of their actions and appetites but unaware of the causes by which they are determined to seek someth ing. As to the common saying that Nature sometimes fails or blunders and produces imperfect thing., I count th is among the fictions with which I dealt in Appendix I.

So perfection and imperfection are in reality only modes of thinking, notions which we are wont to invent from comparing individuals of the same species or kind; and it is for th is reason that I previously said (Def. 6, II) that by reality and perfection I mean the same th ing. For we are wont to classify all the individuals in Nature under one genus which is called the h ighest genus, namely, the notion of Entity, which pertains to all the individuals in Nature without exception. Therefore insofar as we classify individuals in Nature under this genus and com­ pare them with one another and find that some have more being or reality than others, to that extent we say some are more perfect than others. And insofar as we attribute to them something involving negation, such as limit, end, impotence and so on, to that extent we call them imperfect because they do not affect our minds as much as those we call perfect, and not because they lack something of their own or because Nature has blundered. For nothing belong. to the nature of anything except that which follows from the necessity of nature of its efficient cause; and whatever follows from the necessity of the nature of its efficient cause must necessarily be so.

As for the terms "good" and "bad," they l ikewise indicate nothing positive in things considered in themselves, and are nothing but modes of th inking, or no­ tions which we form from comparing thing. with one another. For one and the same th ing can at the same time be good and bad, and also indifferent. For ex­ ample, music is good for one who is melancholy, bad for one in mouming, and

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neither good nor bad for the deaf. However, although this is so, these terms ought to be reta ined. For since we desire to form the idea of a man which we may look to as a model of human nature, we shall find it useful to keep these terms in the sense I have indicated. So in what follows I shall mean by "good" that which we certainly know to be the means for our approaching nearer to the model of hu­ man nature that we set before ourselves, and by "bad" that which we certa inly know prevents us from reproducing the sa id model. Again, we shall say that men are more perfect or less perfect insofur as they are nearer to or further from this model . For i t is important to note that when I say that somebody passes from a state ofless perfection to a state of greater perfection, and vice versa, I do not mean that he changes from one essence or form to another (for example, a horse is as completely destroyed if it changes into a man as it would be if it were to change into an insect), but that we conceive his power of activity, insofur as th is is un­ derstood through h is nature, to be increased or diminished.

Finally, by perfection in general I shall understand reality, as I have said; that is, the essence of anything whatsoever in as far as it exists and acts in a definite manner, without taking duration into account. For no individual thing can be said to be more perfect on the grounds that it has continued in existence over a greater period of time. The duration of things cannot be determined from their essence, for the essence of things involves no fixed and determinate period of time. But any thing whatsoever, whether it be more perfect or less perfect, will always be able to persist in existing with that same force whereby it begins to exist, so that in th is respect all things are equal.

Defini ti ons

I . By good I understand that which we certa inly know to be useful to us. 2 . By bad I understand that which we certa inly know to be an obstacle to our

attainment of some good. For these, see the foregoing prefuce, toward the end. 3 . I call individual things contingent insofar as, in attending only to their

essence, we find nothing that necessarily posits their existence or necessarily ex­ cludes it.

4. I call individual things possible insofur as, in attending to the causes by which they should be brought about, we do not know whether these causes are determined to bring them about.

In Sch. I, Pro 3 3 , I , I did not differentiate between possible and contingent be­ cause at that point it was unnecessary to distinguish carefully between them.

5 . In what follows, by conflicting emotions I shall understand those that draw a man in different directions, although they belong to the same genus, such as dis­ sipation and avarice, which are species oflove, and contrary not by nature, but in­ directly [per accidens].

6. In Schs. I and 2 , Pro 1 8, 111 1 have explained what I mean by emotion to­ ward a th ing future, present, and past.

Part N, Proposition 1 323

But it should be further noted that just as we cannot distinctly imagine spatial distance beyond a certa in l imit, the same is true of time. That is, just as we are wont to imagine that all those objects more than 200 feet away from us, or whose distance from our position exceeds what we can distinctly imagine, are the same distance from us and appear to be in the same plane, so too in the case of objects whose time of existence is farther away from the present by a longer distance than we are wont to distinctly imagine, we think of them all as equally far from the pres­ ent, and we refer them to one point of time, as it were.

7. By the end for the sake of which we do something, I mean appetite. 8. By virtue and power I mean the same thing; that is (Pc. 7, III) , virtue, inso­

far as it is related to man, is man's very essence, or nature, insofar as he has power to bring about that which can be understood solely through the laws of his own nature.

Axi om

There is in Nature no individual th ing that is not surpassed in strength and power by some other th ing. Whatsoever th ing there is, there is another more powerful by which the sa id th ing can be destroyed.

PROPOSITION 1 Nothing positive contained in a false idea can be annulled by the presence of what is true, insofar as it is true.

Proof Falsity consists solely in the privation of knowledge, a privation which is involved in inadequate ideas (Pc. 3 5 , II) , and it is not by possessing something pos­ itive that they are called false (Pr. 3 3 , II) . On the contrary, insofar as they are re­ lated to God, they are true (Pc. 32, II) . If therefore what is positive in a fulse idea were to be annulled by the presence of what is true, insofar as it is true, a true idea would be annulled by itself, which is absurd (Pr. 4, III). Therefore . . . etc.

Scholium This proposition is more clearly understood from Cor. 2, Pc. 1 6, II . For imagination [imaginatio] is an idea that indicates the present disposition of the human body more than the nature of an extemal body, not indeed distinctly, but confusedly, whence i t comes about that the mind is said to err. For example, when we gaze at the sun, it seems to us to be about 200 feet away; and in this we are deceived as long as we are unaware of its true distance. With knowledge of its distance the error is removed, but not the imagining [imaginatio] , that is, the idea of the sun that explicates its nature only insofur as the body is affected by it. Thus although we know its true distance, we shall nevertheless see it as being close to us. For as we said in Sch. Pr. 3 5 , II, it is not by reason of our ignorance of its true distance that we see it as being so near, but because the mind conceives the mag­ nitude of the sun insofur as the body is affected by it. In the same way, when the rays of the sun fall ing on the surface of water are reflected back to our eyes, we see it as if it were in the water although we know its true position. S imilarly other

324 Ethics

imaginings whereby the mind is deceived, whether they indicate the natural dis­ position of the body or the increase or d iminution of its power of activity, are not contrary to what is true and do not disappear at the presence of truth. It does in­ deed happen that when we mistakenly fear some evil , the fear disappears when we hear the truth. But the contrary also happens; when we fear an evil that is as­ suredly going to overtake us, the fear l ikewise disappears on our hearing false tid­ ings. So imaginings do not disappear at the presence of what is true insofar as it is true, but because other imaginings that are stronger supervene to exclude the pres­ ent existence of the things we imagine, as we demonstrated in Pro 1 7, I I .

PROPOSITION 2 We are passive insofar as we are a part of Nature which cannot be conceived inde­ pendently of other parts.

Proof We are said to be passive when something arises in us of wh ich we are only the partial cause (Def. 2 , IJI); that is (Def. I, III), something that cannot be deduced solely from the laws of our own nature. So we are passive insofar as we are a part of Nature which cannot be conceived independently of other parts.

PROPOSITION 3 The fOTCe [vis] whereby a man persists in existing is limited, and infinitely surpassed by the power of external causes.

Proof This is clear from the Axiom of this Part. In the case of every man there is something else, say A, more powerful than he, and then there is another thing, say B, more powerful than A, and so ad infinitum. Therefore, the power of a man is l imited in comparison with something else, and is infinitely surpassed by the power of external causes.

PROPOSITION 4 It is impossible for a man not to be part of Nature and not to undergo changes other than those which can be understood solely through his own nature and of which he is the adequate cause.

Proof The power whereby each single thing, and consequently man, preserves its own being is the very power of God, or Nature (Cor. Pro 24, I), not insofar as it is infinite but insofar as it can be explicated through actual human essence (Pr. 7 , III). Therefore, the power of man insofar as it is explicated through his actual essence is part of the infinite power of God, or Nature, that is, of God's essence (Pr. 34, I). This is the first point. Again, if it were possible for man to undergo no changes except those which can be understood solely through his own nature, it would follow (Prs. 4 and 6, IJI) that he cannot perish but would always necessar­ ily exis� and th is would have to follow from a cause whose power is either finite or infinite, namely, either from the power of man alone, in that he would be ca­ pable of removing from himself all changes which might arise from external causes, or else from the infinite power of Nature, by which all particular things

Part N, Proposition 7 325

would be so govemed that man could undergo no changes other than those that serve for his preservation. But of these altematives the first is absurd (by the pre­ ceding proposition, whose proof is universal and can be appl ied to all particular th ings). Therefore, if it were possible that man could undergo no changes except such as could be understood through man's nature alone, and consequently (as I have already demonstrated) that he should always necessarily exist, th is would have to follow from the infinite power of God. Consequently (Pr. 16, I) , the en­ tire order of Nature as conceived under the attributes of Extension and Thought would have to be deducible from the necessity of the divine nature insofur as it is considered as affected by the idea of some man. And so it would follow (Pr. 2 1 , I) that man would be infinite, which is absurd (by the first part of this proof). There­ fore, it is impossible that man should not undergo any changes except those of which he is the adequate cause.

Corollary Hence i t follows that man is necessarily always subject to passive emotions, and that he follows the common order of Nature, and obeys i t, and ac­ commodates himself to it as far as the nature of things demands.

PROPOSITION 5 The force and increase of any passive emotion and its persistence in existing is de­ fined not by the power whereby we ourselves endeavor to persist in existing, but by the power of external causes compared with our own power.

Proof The essence of a passive emotion cannot be explicated through our own essence alone (Defs . l and 2, III) ; that is (Pr. 7, III) , the power of a passive emo­ tion cannot be defined by the power whereby we endeavor to persist in our own being, but (as we have demonstrated in Pro 1 6 , II) must necessarily be defined by the power of an extemal cause compared with our own power.

PROPOSITION 6 The force of any passive emotion can surpass the rest of man's activities or power so that the emotion stays firmly fixed in him.

Proof The force and increase of any passive emotion and its persistence in ex­ isting is defined by the power of an extemal cause compared with our own power (by the preceding proposition) and so (Pr. 3 , IV) can surpass man's power.

PROPOSITION 7 An emotion cannot be checked or destroyed except by a contrary emotion which is stronger than the emotion which is to be checked.

Proof An emotion , insofur as it is related to the mind, is an idea whereby the mind affirms a greater or less force of existence in its body than was previously the case (General Definition of Emotions, near the end of Part III) . So when the mind is assailed by an emotion , the body at the same time is affected by an affection whereby its power of acting is increased or diminished. Furthermore, th is affec­ tion of the body (Pr. 5, IV) receives from its own cause its force for persisting in

326 Ethics

its own being, and therefore this force cannot be checked or destroyed except by a corporeal cause (Pr. 6, II) which affects the body with an affection contrary to the other (Pr. 5 , III) and stronger than it (Ax. IV) . So (Pr. 1 2, II) the mind will be affected by the idea of an affection stronger than and contrary to the earl ier one; that is (by the General Definition of Emotions), the mind will be affected by an emotion stronger than and contrary to the previous one, an emotion which will exclude or destroy the existence of the previous one. So an emotion cannot be ei­ ther destroyed or checked except by a contrary and stronger emotion.

Corollary An emotion, insofar as it is related to the mind, can neither be checked nor destroyed except through the idea of an affection of the body con­ trary to and stronger than the affection which we are experiencing. For the emotion we are experiencing can neither be checked nor destroyed except by an emotion stronger than and contrary to i t (preceding Pr.) , that is, except through the idea of an affection of the body stronger than and contrary to the affection we are experiencing (General Defini tion of Emotions).

PROPOSITION 8 Knowledge of good and evil is nothing other than the emotion of pleasure or pain insofar as we are conscious of it. Proof We call good or bad that which is advantageous, or an obstacle, to the preservation of our being (Defs. I and 2, IV); that is (Pr. 7, III), that which in­ creases or diminishes, helps or checks, our power of activity. Therefore insofar as we perceive some thing to affect us with pleasure or pain (by the definitions of pleasure and pain, q.v. , in Sch. Pr. I I , III) . we call it good or bad; and so knowl­ edge of good and evil is nothing other than the idea of pleasure or pain which necessarily follows from the emotion of pleasure or pain (Pr. 22, II). But th is idea is united to the emotion in the same way as the mind is united to the body (Pr. 2 1 , II); that is (as has been demonstrated in the Schol ium to the same Proposi­ tion), this idea is not distinct in reality from the emotion, or, in other words (by the General Definition of the Emotions), from the idea of an affection of the body, save only in conception . Therefore, this knowledge of good and evil is nothing other than the emotion itself, insofar as we are conscious of i t.

PROPOSITION 9 An emotion whose cause we think to be with us in the present is stronger than it would be if we did not think the said cause to be with us.

Proof An imagining [imaginatio 1 is an idea whereby the mind regards a th ing as present (see its definition in Sch. Pro 1 7, II), but which indicates the disposition of the human body rather than the nature of the external th ing (Cor. 2, Pr. 1 6 , II). Therefore, an ernotion (by the General Defin ition of Ernotions) is an irnagining insofar as i t indicates the disposition of the body. Now an imagining (Pr. 17, II) is more intense as long as we think of nothing that excludes the present existence of the external th ing. Therefore that ernotion, too, whose cause we th ink to be with

Part N, Proposition 1 1 327

us in the present, is more intense or stronger than it would be if we did not th ink the said cause to be with us.

Scholium When I asserted above in Proposition 1 8, III that from the image of a thing future or past we are affected by the same emotion as if the thing we are th inking of were present, I deliberately gave warning that this is true only insofar as we attend to the image of the thing; for an image is of the same nature whether or not we picture things as present. But I did not deny that the image becomes feebler when we regard as present to us other things which exclude the present existence of a future thing. I omitted to emphasize this at the time because I had decided to treat of the strength of the emotions in th is Part.

Corollary The image of a thing future or past, that is, a th ing which we regard as related to our future or past time to the exclusion of present time, is feebler, other th ings being equal, than the image of a present th ing. Consequently, the emotion toward a thing future or past, other things being equal , is weaker than an emotion toward a present th ing.

PROPOSITION 1 0 We are affected toward a future thing which we imagine to be imminent more in­ tensely than if we were to imagine its time of existence to be farther away from the present. We are also affected by remembrance of a thing we imagine to belong to the near past more intensely than if we were to imagine it to belong to the distant past.

Proof Insofur as we imagine a th ing to be imminent or to belong to the near past, by that very fact we are imagining something that excludes the thing's pres­ ence to a less degree than if we were to imagine that its future time of existence was further from the present or that it happened long ago (as is self-evident). So to that extent (preceding proposition) we are more intensely affected toward it.

Scholium From our note to Definition 6, IV, it follows that with regard to ob­ jects that are distant from the present by a longer interval of time than comes within the scope of our imagination, although we know that they are far distant in time from one another, we are affected toward them with the same degree of faintness.

PROPOSITION 1 1 An emotion toward a thing which we think of as inevitable [necessariusJ is more in­ tense, other things being equal, than emotion toward a thing possible, or contin­ gent, that is, not inevitable.

Proof Insofur as we imagine a th ing to be inevitable, to that extent we affirm its existence. On the other hand, insofar as we imagine a th ing not to be inevitable, we deny its existence (Sch . I, Pro 33, I), and therefore (Pr. 9, IV) emotion toward an inevitable thing, other th ings being equal, is more intense than emotion to­ ward someth ing not inevitable.

328 Ethics

PROPOSITION 1 2 Emotion toward a thing which we know not to exist in the present, and which we imagine to be possible, is, other things being equal, more intense than emotion to­ ward a contingent thing.

Proof Insofar as we imagine a th ing to be contingent, we are not affected by any image of another thing that posits the existence ofthe former (Def. 3, IV) . On the contrary, by hypothesis, we are th inking of things that exclude its present exis­ tence. But insofar as we think of a th ing as possible in the future, we are th inking of things that posit its existence (Def. 4, IV); that is (Pr. 1 8, III), things that en­ courage hope or fear. Therefore, emotion toward a possible thing is more intense.

CoroJlary Emotion toward a thing which we know not to exist in the present and which we think of as contingent is much feebler than if we were to th ink of the thing as with us in the present.

Proof Emotion toward a th ing that we imagine to exist in the present is more intense than if we were to imagine it to belong to the future (Cor. Pr. 9, IV) , and much stronger than it would be if we were to th ink of that future time as fur dis­ tant from the present (Pr. 1 0, IV). Therefore, emotion toward a thing whose time of existence we imagine to be far distant from the present is much weaker than it would be if we were to imagine the said th ing to be present, but is nevertheless (preceding Pr.) more intense than it would be if we were to imagine the sa id th ing to be contingent. So emotion toward a contingent th ing is much feebler than it would be if we were to imagine the thing to be with us in the present.

PROPOSITION 1 3 Emotion toward a contingent thing which we know not to exist in the present is, other things being equal, feebler than emotion toward a thing past.

Proof Insofur as we imagine a th ing to be contingent, we are not affected by the image of any other thing that posits the existence of the former (Def. 3, IV). On the contrary, by hypothesis, we are imagining things that exclude its present exis­ tence. But insofar as we th ink of the said th ing as belonging to the past, to that extent it is assumed that we are th inking of something that brings it back to mem­ ory, that is, which activates the image of the thing (Pr. 1 8, II and Sch . ) , and there­ fore to that extent causes us to regard the thing as present (Cor. Pro 1 7 , II). So (Pr. 9, IV) emotion toward a contingent thing which we know not to exist in the pres­ ent is, other things being equal, feebler than emotion toward a th ing past.

PROPOSITION 1 4 No emotion can b e checked by the true knowledge of good and evil insofar as i t is true, but only insofar as it is considered as an emotion.

Proof An emotion is an idea whereby the mind affirms a greater or less force of existence of its body than was previously the case (by the General Definition of Emotions), and so (Pr. I , IV) it contains nothing positive that can be annulled by

Part N, Proposition 17 329

the presence of what is true. Consequently, true knowledge of good and evil can­ not check an emotion by virtue of being true. But insofar as it is an emotion (Pr. 8, IV), if it be stronger than the emotion wh ich is to be checked, to that extent only (Pr. 7, IV) it can check an emotion.

PROPOSITION 1 5 Desire that arises from the true knowledge of good and evil can be extinguished or checked by many other desires that arise from the emotions by which we are assailed.

Proof From the true knowledge of good and evil, insofar as this is an emotion (Pr. 8, IV), there necessarily arises desire (Definition of Emotions I ) , whose strength is proportionate to the strength of the emotion from which it arises (Pr. 37, III) . But since this desire, by hypothesis, arises from our truly understanding something, it therefore follows in us insofar as we are active (Pr. 3 , IIJ), and so must be understood solely through our essence (Def. 2, IIJ) . Consequently (Pr. 7 , IIJ), its force and increase must be defined solely in terms of human power. Now de­ sires that arise from emotions by which we are assailed are also greater in propor­ tion to the strength of the emotions, and so their force and increase (Pr. 5, IV) must be defined in terms of the power of external causes which indefinitely surpasses our power when compared with it (Pr. 3 , N). So desires that arise from emotions of th is kind may be stronger than that desire which arises from the true knowledge of good and evil, and therefore (Pr. 7, IV) are able to check or extinguish it.

PROPOSITION 1 6 The desire that arises from a knowledge of good and evil insofar as this knowledge has regard to the future can be the more easily checked or extinguished by desire of things that are attractive in the present.

Proof Emotion toward a th ing that we imagine to be future is feebler than emo­ tion toward someth ing present (Cor. Pro 9, IV). But desire that arises from the true knowledge of good and evil , even when this knowledge is concerned with thing. that are good in the present, can be extinguished or checked by any chance de­ s ire (by the preceding propOSition, whose proof is universally val id). Therefore, desire that arises from the said knowledge insofar as it has regard to the future can be the more easily checked or extinguished . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 1 7 Desire that arises from the true knowledge of good and evil insofar as this knowl­ edge is concerned with contingent things can be even more easily checked by desire for things which are present.

Proof This proposition is proved in the same way as the preceding proposition , from Cor. Pro 1 2 , IV.

Scholiurn I th ink I have thus demonstrated why men are motivated by uncriti­ cal belief [opinio] more than by true reasoning, and why the true knowledge of good and evil stirs up conflict in the mind and often yields to every kind of pas-

330 Ethics

sion. Hence the saying of the poet, "I see the better course and approve it, but I pursue the worse course."2 Ecclesiastes seems to have had the same point in mind when he said: "He who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow."3 My purpose in saying th is is not to conclude that ignorance is preferable to knowledge, or that there is no difference between a fool and a wise man in the matter of controll ing the emotions. I say this because it is necessary to know both the power of our na­ ture and its lack of power, so that we can determine what reason can and cannot do in controll ing the emotions, and in this Part I have said that I shall treat only of human weakness. As for the power of reason over the emotions, it is my inten­ tion to treat of that in a separate Part.

PROPOSITION 1 8 Desire arising (rom pleasure is, other things being equal, stronger than desire aris­ ing from pain.

Proof Desire is the very essence of man (Definition of Emotions I ) ; that is (Pr. 7 , III) , the conatus whereby man endeavors to persist in h is own being. Therefore the desire that arises from pleasure is assisted or increased by the very emotion of pleasure (by Definition of Pleasure, q.v., in Sch. Pr. I I , III) ; whereas the desire that arises from pain is diminished or checked by the very emotion of pain (same Sch . ) . So the force of the desire that arises from pleasure must be defined by hu­ man power together with the power of an external cause, whereas the desire that arises from pain must be defined by human power alone. Therefore, the former is stronger than the latter.

Scholium I have thus briefly explained the causes of human weakness and in­ constancy, and why men do not abide by the precepts of reason. I t now remains for me to demonstrate what it is that reason prescribes for us, and which emotions are in harmony with the rules of human reason, and which are contrary to them. But before I embark on the task of proving these things in our detailed geometri­ cal order, i t would be well first of all to make a brief survey of the dictates of rea­ son, so that my meaning may be more readily grasped by everyone.

Since reason demands noth ing contrary to nature, i t therefore demands that every man should love himself, should seek his own advantage (I mean his real advantage), should aim at whatever really leads a man toward greater perfection, and, to sum it all up, that each man, as far as in him l ies, should endeavor to pre­ serve h is own being. This is as necessarily true as that the whole is greater than its part (Pr. 4, III) .

Again, since virtue (DeE 8, IV) is nothing other than to act from the laws of one's own nature, and since nobody endeavors to preserve his own being (Pr. 7, III) except from the laws of h is own nature, i t follows firstly that the basis of virtue is the very conatus to preserve one's own being, and that happiness consists in a

, [OVId, Metamorph03es VII , 20 .-S.S . 1 , [Ecclesi",", U8 - S S J

Part N, Proposition 20 3 3 1

man's being able t o preserve h i s own being. Secondly, it follows that virtue should be sought for its own sake, and that there is nothing preferable to i t or more to our advantage, for the sake of which it should be sought. Thirdly, i t follows that those who commit suicide are of weak spirit and are completely overcome by external causes opposed to their own nature. Further, it follows from Post. 4, II that we can never bring it about that we should need nothing outside ourselves to preserve our own being and that we should l ive a l ife quite unrelated to things outside our­ selves. Besides, if we consider the mind, surely our intellect would be less perfect if the mind were in sol itude and understood nothing beyond itself. Therefore, there are many things outside ourselves which are advantageous to us and ought therefore to be sought. Of these none more excellent can be discovered than those which are in complete harmony with our own nature. For example, if two indi­ viduals of completely the same nature are combined, they compose an individual twice as powerful as each one singly.

Therefore, nothing is more advantageous to man than man. Men, I repeat, can wish for nothing more excellent for preserving their own being than that they should all be in such harmony in all respects that their minds and bodies should compose, as it were, one mind and one body, and that all together should en­ deavor as best they can to preserve their own being, and that all together they should aim at the common advantage of all. From this it follows that men who are governed by reason, that is, men who aim at their own advantage under the gUidance of reason, seek nothing for themselves that they would not desire for the rest of mankind; and so are just, fu ithful, and honorable.

These are the dictates of reason, which I have decided to set forth in brief at this point before embarking upon their more detailed demonstration. This I have done so that I may, if possible, gain the attention of those who believe that the principle that every man is bound to seek his own advantage is the basis, not of virtue and piety, but of impiety. Now that I have briefly shown that the contrary is the case, I proceed to i ts proof, using the same method as hitherto.

PROPOSITION 1 9 Every man, from the laws o f his own nature, necessarily seeks o r avoids what he judges to be good or evil.

Proof Knowledge of good and evil is (Pr. 8, IV) the emotion of pleasure or pain insofur as we are conscious of it, and therefore every man (Pc. 28, III) necessarily seeks what he judges to be good and avoids what he judges to be evil . But this ap' petite is nothing other than man's very essence or nature (Definition of Appetites, q.v. in Sch. Pc. 9, III and Definition of Emotions I ) . Therefore every man, solely from the laws of his own nature, necessarily seeks or avoids . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 20 The more every man endeavors and is able to seek his own advantage, that is, to pre­ serve his own being, the more he is endowed with virtue. On the other hand, inso­ far as he neglects to preserve what is to his advantage, that is, his own being, to that extent he is weak.

332 Ethics

Proof Virtue is human power, which is defined solely by man's essence (Def. 8, IV); that is, it is defined solely by the conatus whereby man endeavors to persist in h is own being (Pr. 7 , III) . Therefore, the more every man endeavors and is able to preserve h is own being, the more he is endowed with virtue, and consequently (Prs. 4 and 6, III) insofar as he neglects to preserve h is own being, to that extent he is weak.

Scholium Therefore nobody, unless he is overcome by external causes con­ trary to h is own nature, neglects to seek h is own advantage, that is, to preserve his own being. Nobody, I repeat, refuses food or kills h imself from the necessity of his own nature, but from the constra int of external causes. This can take place in many ways . A man kills h imself when he is compelled by another who twists the hand in which he happens to hold a sword and makes him turn the blade against his heart; or when, in obedience to a tyranfs command, he, l ike Seneca,· is compelled to open his veins, that is, he chooses a lesser evil to avoid a greater. Or it may come about when unobservable external causes condition a man's imagination and affect his body in such a way that the latter assumes a different nature contrary to the previously existing one, a nature whereof there can be no idea in mind (Pr. 1 0, III). But that a man from the necessity of h is own nature should endeavor to cease to exist or to be changed into another form, is as im­ possible as that something should come from nothing, as anyone can see with a l i ttle thought.

PROPOSITION 2 1 Nobody can desire to be hapfJY, to do well and to live well without at the same time desiring to be, to do, and to live; that is, actually to exist.

Proof The proof of this proposition, or rather, the fact itself, is self-evident, and also follows from the definition of desire. For the desire (Definition of Emotions I) to l ive happily, to do well and so on is the very essence of man; that is (Pr. 7, III), the conatus whereby every man endeavors to preserve his own being. There­ fore nobody can desire . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 22 No virtue can be conceived as prior to this one, namely, the conatus to preserve oneself

Proof The conatus to preserve itself is the very essence of a thing (Pr. 7, Ill) . Thus, if any virtue could be conceived as prior to this one- namely, this conatus­ then (Def. 8, IV) the essence of a th ing would be conceived as prior to itself, which is obviously absurd. Therefore no virtue . . . etc.

4 [Seneca (4 B.C.-A.D. 66), the Roman Wrtter and statesman, cOlTIITIltted SUIcide under polittca1 pres­ sure rather than suffer public disgrace. In many ofhts essays and letters he praised and justified SUI­ cide under certam conditions.]

Part N, Proposition 26 33 3

Corollary The conatus to preserve oneself is the primary and sole basis of virtue. For no other principle can be conceived as prior to this one (preceding Pr. ) , and no virtue can be conceived independently of it (Pr. 2 1 , IV).

PROPOSITION 2 3 Insofar as a man is determined to some action from the fact that he has inadequate ideas, he cannot be said, without qualification, to be acting from virtue; he can be said to do so only insofar as he is determined from the fact that he understands. Proof Insofar as a man is determined to action from the fact that he has inade­ quate ideas, to that extent (Pr. I, III) he is passive; that is (Defs. I and 2 , III) , he does something that cannot be perceived solely in terms of h is own essence, that is (Def. 8, IV), something that does not follow from his own virtue. But insofar as he is determined to an action from the fact that he understands, to that extent he is active (Pr. I , III); that is (Def. 2, III) , he does something that is perceived solely in terms of h is own essence, that is (Def. 8, IV), which follows adequately from his own virtue.

PROPOSITION 24 To act in absolute conformity with virtue is nothing else in us but to act, to live, to preserve one's own being (these three mean the same) under the guidance of reason, on the basis of seeking one's own advantage.

Proof To act in absolute conformity with virtue is nothing else (Def. 8, IV) but to act according to the laws of one's own nature. But we are active only insofar as we understand (Pr. 3 , III). Therefore, to act from virtue is nothing else in us but to act, to l ive, and to preserve one's own being under the gUidance of reason, on the basis (Cor. Pr. 22, IV) of seeking one's own advantage.

PROPOSITION 2 5 Nobody endeavors to preserve his being for the sake of some other thing.

Proof The conatus whereby each thing endeavors to preserve i ts own being is defined solely by the essence of the thing itself (Pr. 7, III); given this essence alone, and not from the essence of any other th ing, i t necessarily follows (Pr. 6 , III) that every one endeavors to preserve his own being. Moreover, th is proposition is ob­ vious from Cor. Pro 22 , IV. For if a man were to endeavor to preserve h is own be­ ing for the sake of another th ing, then that th ing would be the primary basis ofhis virtue (as is self-evident), which is absurd (by the aforementioned corollary). Therefore nobody . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 26 Whatever we endeavor according to reason is nothing else but to understand; and the mind, insofar as it exercises reason, ;udges nothing else to be to its advantage ex­ cept what conduces to understanding.

334 Ethics

Proof The conatus to preserve itself is nothing but the essence of a thing (Pr. 7 , I J I ) , wh ich , insofar as it exists as such, is conceived as having a force to persist in existing (Pr. 6 , Ill) and to do those things that necessarily follow from its given na­ ture (see Definition of Appetite in Sch. Pro 9, Ill) . But the essence of reason is nothing other than our mind insofar as it clearly and distinctly understands (see its Definition in Sch. 2 , Pr. 40, II). Therefore (Pr. 40, II), whatever we endeavor according to reason is nothing else but to understand. Again, since this conatus of the mind wherewith the mind, insofar as i t exercises reason, endeavors to pre­ serve its own being is nothing else but a conatus to understand (by the first part of this proof), this conatus to understand (Cor. Pr. 22, IV) is therefore the primary and only basis of virtue, and it is not for some further purpose that we endeavor to understand things (Pr. 2 5 , IV). On the contrary, the mind, insofar as it exercises reason, cannot conceive any good for itself except what is conducive to under­ standing (Def. I , IV).

PROPOSITION 27 We know nothing to be certainly good or evil except what i s really conducive to un­ derstanding or what can hinder understanding.

Proof The mind, insofar as it exercises reason, seeks nothing else but to under­ stand, and judges nothing else to be to its advantage except what is conducive to understanding (preceding Pr. ). But the mind (Prs. 41 and 43 , II , and Sch . ) pos­ sesses no certainty save insofar as it has adequate ideas, or (which is the same thing by Sch . Pro 40, II) insofar as it exercises reason. Therefore, we do not know any­ thing to be certainly good except what is truly conducive to understanding, or cer­ tainly evil except what can hinder understanding.

PROPOSITION 2 8 The mind's highest good i s the knowledge of God, and the mind's highest virtue is to know God.

Proof The h ighest object that the mind can understand is God, that is (Def. 6, I ) , an absolutely infinite being, and one without whom (Pr. 1 5 , I) nothing can be or be conceived. Thus (Prs. 26 and 27, IV) the mind's utmost advantage or (Def. I , IV) its h ighest good is knowledge of God. Again, the mind is active only to the extent that it understands (Prs. I and 3, IJI), and to that extent only (Pr. 23 , IV) can it be said without qual ification to act from virtue. So the absolute virtue of the mind is to understand. But the highest thing the mind can understand is God (as we have just proved). Therefore, the h ighest virtue of the mind is to understand or to know God.

PROPOSITION 29 No individual thing whose nature is quite different from ours can either assist or check our power to act, and nothing whatsoever can be either good or evil for us un­ less it has something in common with us.

Part N, Proposition 3 1 33 5

Proof The power of each individual th ing (and consequently of man (Cor. Pr. 1 0 , II) , whereby he exists and acts is determined only by another particular th ing (Pr. 28, I) whose nature (Pr. 6 , II) must be understood through the same attribute as that through which human nature is conceived. So our power to act, in what­ ever way it be conceived, can be determined, and consequently assisted or checked, by the power of another individual th ing which has something in com­ mon with us, and not by the power of a thing whose nature is entirely different from our own. And since we call good or evil that which is the cause of pleasure or pain (Pr. 8, IV) , that is (Sch. Pro I I , III), which increases or diminishes, assists or checks our power of activity, a th ing whose nature is entirely different from our own can be neither good nor evil for us.

PROPOSITION 30 No thing can be evil for us through what it possesses in common with our nature, but insofar as it is evil for us, it is contrary to us.

Proof We call bad that which is the cause of pain (Pr. 8, IV), that is (through Definition of Pain, q.v. in Sch. Pro I I , III), that which diminishes or checks our power of activity. So if something were bad for us through that which it has in common with us, that thing would be able to diminish or check the very th ing that it has in common with us, which is absurd (Pr. 4, III). So nothing can be bad for us through that which it has in common with us. On the contrary, insofar as i t is bad - that is (as we have just demonstrated), insofar as it can diminish or check our power of activity-to that extent (Pr. 5, III) it is contrary to us.

PROPOSITION 3 1 Insofar as a thing is i n agreement with our nature, to that extent it is necessarily good.

Proof Insofur as a th ing is in agreement with our nature, it cannot be bad (pre­ ceding Pr. ) . Therefore, it is necessarily either good or indifferent. If we make the latter assumption, namely, that it is neither good nor bad, then nothing will fol­ low from its nature (Ax. 3, IVj5 which serves to preserve our nature; that is (by hypothesis), which serves to preserve the nature of the thing itself. But th is is ab­ surd (Pr. 6, III) . Therefore, insofar as it is in agreement with our nature, it is nec­ essarily good.

Corollary Hence it follows that the more a thing is in agreement with our na­ ture, the more advantageous it is to us, that is, the more it is good; and, conversely, the more advantageous a thing is to us, to that extent it is in more agreement with

5 [The standard Latin text of Gebhardt has a reference to Axiom 3 of Part IV. However, In our CUf­ rent text there is only one aXiom for Part lV. Translators have suggested vartOUS corrections; but Geb­ hardt notes to his cntlcal apparatus that to Spinoza's ongtnal draft of the Ethics there were proba­ bly several aXIoms for Part rv. In the fmal version all but one of these axIOms were deleted, although in Proposition 3 1 Sptnoza still has AxIOm 3 In mmd. -S .S 1

336 Ethics

our nature. For insofar as it is not in agreement with our nature, it is necessarily either different from our nature or contrary to i t. If it is different (Pr. 29, IV) , it can be neither good nor bad; but if contrary, it will therefore be contrary also to that which is in agreement with our nature, that is (preceding Pr. ) , contrary to our good; that is, it will be evil . So nothing can be good save insofar as it is in agree­ ment with our nature. So the more a thing is in agreement with our nature, the more advantageous i t is to us, and vice versa.

PROPOSITION 32 Insofar as men are subject to passive emotions, to that extent they cannot be said to agree in nature.

Proof Things which are said to agree in nature are understood to agree in re­ spect of their power (Pr. 7, III) , not in respect of their weakness or negation , and consequently (Sch. Pr. 3, III) not in respect of passive emotions. Therefore men , insofar as they are subject to passive emotions, cannot be said to agree in nature.

Scholium This is also self-evident. For he who says that white and black agree only in the fact that neither is red is making an absolute assertion that white and black agree in no respect. So, too, if someone says that stone and man agree only in th is respect, that they are both finite, or weak, or that they do not exist from the necessity of their own natures, or that they are indefinitely surpassed by the power of external causes, he is making the general assertion that stone and man agree in no respect. For things that agree only negatively, that is, in what they do not pos­ sess, in reality agree in nothing.

PROPOSITION 3 3 Men can differ in nature insofar as they are assailed by emotions that are passive, and to that extent one and the same man, too, is variable and inconstant.

Proof The nature or essence of emotions cannot be explicated solely through our own essence or nature (Defs. I and 2, III), but must be defined by the potency, that is (Pr. 7 , III) , the nature, of external causes as compared with our own power. Hence there are as many kinds of each emotion as there are kinds of objects by which we are affected (Pr. 56, III), and men are affected in different ways by one and the same object (Pr. 5 1 , III) , and to that extent they differ in nature. Finally, one and the same man (Pr. 5 1 , III) is affected in different ways toward the same object, and to that extent he is variable . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 34 Insofar as men are assailed by emotions that are passive, they can be contrary to one another.

Proof A man, Peter, for example, can be the cause of Paul's feel ing pain because Peter has someth ing similar to a th ing that Paul hates (Pr. 1 6, III), or because Pe­ ter has sole possession of a thing that Paul also loves (Pr. 32, III and Sch.) , or for other reasons (for the principal reasons, see Sch. Pr. 5 5 , III). Thus it will come

Part N, Proposition 35 337

about (Def. of Emotions 7) that Paul wil l hate Peter. Consequently, it wil l easily happen (Pr. 40, 1II , and Sch . ) that Peter will hate Paul in return; thus (Pr. 39, 1II) , they will endeavor to in jure each other, that is (Pr. 30, IV) , they will be contrary to each other. But the emotion of pain is always a passive emotion (Pr. 59, III) . Therefore men, insofar as they are assailed by passive emotions, can be contrary to one another.

Scholium I said that Paul hates Peter because he thinks that Peter possesses something that Paul also loves, from which at first sight it seems to follow that these two are injurious to each other as a result ofloving the same thing, and con­ sequently of their agreeing in nature. So if th is is true, Propositions 30 and 3 1 , IV would be false. But if we examine this question with scrupulous fa irness, we find that there is no contradiction at any point. These two do not disl ike each other in­ sofar as they agree in nature, that is, insofar as they both love the same th ing, but insofar as they differ from each other. For insofar as they both love the same th ing, each one's love is thereby fostered (Pr. 3 1 , III); that is (Def. of Emotions 6), each one's pleasure is fostered. Therefore, it is by no means true that insofar as they both love the same thing and agree in nature, they dislike each other. As I have said, the reason for their dislike is none other than that they are assumed to differ in nature. For we are supposing that Peter has an idea of the loved thing as now in his possession, while Paul has an idea of the loved thing lost to him. Hence the latter is affected with pain, while the former is affected with pleasure, and to that extent they are contrary to each other. In th is way we can readily demonstrate that all other causes of hatred depend on men being different in nature, and not on a point wherein they agree.

PROPOSITION 3 5 Imofar as men live under the guidance of reason, to that extent only do they always necessarily agree in nature.

Proof Insofar as men are assailed by passive emotions, they can be different in na­ ture (Pr. 33 , IV) and contrary to one another (preceding Pr. ) . But we say that men are active only insofar as they live under the guidance of reason (Pr. 3 , III). Thus, whatever follows from human nature, insofar as it is defined by reason, must be un­ derstood (Def. 2, 1II) through human nature alone as its proximate cause. Butsince everyone, in accordance with the laws of his own nature, aims at what he judges to be good and endeavors to remove what he judges to be evil (Pr. 19, IV), and since furthermore what he judges from the dictates of reason to be good or evil is neces­ sarily good or evil (Pr. 4 1 , II), it follows that insofar as men live under the gUidance of reason, to that extent only do they necessarily do the thing. which are necessar­ ily good for human nature and consequently for every single man; that is (Cor. Pr. 3 1 , IV) , which agree with the nature of every single man. So men also are neces­ sarily in agreement insofar as they live under the guidance of reason.

Corollary 1 There is no individual thing in the universe more advantageous to man than a man who lives by the guidance of reason. For the most advantageous

338 Ethics

th ing to man is that which agrees most closely with his nature (Cor. Pro 3 1 , IV); that is (as is self-evident), man. But man acts absolutely according to the laws of his own nature when he l ives under the guidance of reason (Def. 2, 1II) , and only to that extent is he always necessarily in agreement with the nature of another man (preceding Pr. ) . Therefore, among individual things there is nothing more ad­ vantageous to man than a man who . . . etc.

Corollary 2 It is when every man is most devoted to seeking h is own advantage that men are of most advantage to one another. For the more every man seeks h is own advantage and endeavors to preserve h imself, the more he is endowed with virtue (Pr. 20, IV), or (and this is the same thing (Def. 8, IV)) the greater the power with which he is endowed for acting according to the laws of h is own nature; that is (Pr. 3, III), for l iving by the guidance of reason. But i t is when men l ive by the guidance of reason that they agree most in nature (preceding Pr. ) . ThereIore (pre­ ceding Cor.), it is when each is most devoted to seeking his own advantage that men are of most advantage to one another.

Scholium What we have just demonstrated is also confirmed by daily experi­ ence with so many convincing examples as to give rise to the common saying: "Man is a God to man." Yet it is rarely the case that men live by the guidance of reason; their condition is such that they are generally disposed to envy and mu­ tual dislike. Nevertheless they find sol i tary l ife scarcely endurable, so that for most people the deIinition "man is a social animal" meets with strong approval . And the fact of the matter is that the social organization of man shows a balance of much more profit than loss. So let satirists deride as much as they l ike the doing. of mankind, let theologians revile them, and let the misanthropists [melancholiciJ heap praise on the l ife of rude rusticity, despising men and admiring beasts. Men will still discover from experience that they can much more easily meet their needs by mutual help and can ward off ever-th reatening perils only by j oining forces, not to mention that it is a much more excellent th ing and worthy of our knowledge to study the deeds of men than the deeds of beasts. But I shall say more on this subject later on.

PROPOSITION 36 The highest good of those who pursue virtue is common to all, and all can equally enjoy it.

Proof To act from virtue is to act by the guidance of reason (Pr. 24, IV), and whatever we endeavor to do in accordance with reason is to understand (Pr. 26, IV) . So (Pr. 28, IV) the highest good of those who pursue virtue is to know God; that is (Pr. 47, II and Sch .) a good that is common to all men and can be possessed equally by all men insofar as they are of the same nature.

Scholium Somebody may ask: "What if the h ighest good of those who pursue virtue were not common to all? Would it not then follow, as above (Pr. 34, IV), that men who live by the gUidance of reason, that is (Pr. 3 5 , IV), men insofar as they agree in nature, would be contrary to one another?" Let him take th is reply,

Part N, Proposition 37 339

that it arises not by accident but from the very nature of reason that men's high­ est good is common to all, because th is is deduced from the very essence of man insofar as that is defined by reason, and because man could neither be nor be con­ ceived if he did not have the abil ity to en joy this h ighest good. For it belongs to the essence of the human mind (Pr. 47, II) to have an adequate knowledge of the eternal and infinite essence of God.

PROPOSITION 37 The good which every man who pursues virtue aims at for himselfhe will also desire for the rest of mankind, and all the more as he acquires a greater knowledge of God. Proof Insofar as men live by the guidance of reason, they are most useful to man (Cor. I , Pro 3 5 , IV), and so (Pr. 19 , IV) by the gUidance of reason we shall neces­ sarily endeavor to bring it about that men should l ive by the guidance of reason. But the good that every man who l ives according to the dictates of reason, that is (Pr. 24, IV), who pursues virtue, seeks for himself is to understand (Pr. 26, IV) . Therefore the good which every man who pursues virtue seeks for himselfhe will also desire for the rest of mankind. Aga in, desire, insofar as i t is related to mind, is the very essence of mind (Def. of Emotions 1 ) . Now the essence of mind con­ sists in knowledge (Pr. I I , II) which involves the knowledge of God (Pr. 47, II) , without which (Pr . 1 5 , I) it can neither be nor be conceived. So the more the essence of the mind involves knowledge of God, the greater the desire with which he who pursues virtue desires for another the good wh ich he seeks for himself.

Another Proof The good which a man seeks for himself, and loves, he will love with greater constancy ifhe sees others loving the same th ing (Pr. 3 1 , III) . Thus (Cor. Pr. 3 1 , III) he will endeavor that others should love the same thing. And be­ cause this good (preceding Pr.) is common to all, and all can enjoy it, he will there­ fore endeavor (by the same reasoning) that all should enjoy it, and the more so (Pr. 37, III) the more he enjoys this good.

Scholiurn 1 He who from emotion alone endeavors that others love what he h imself loves and l ive according to his way of th inking acts only by impulse, and therefore incurs dislike, especially from those who have different preferences and who therefore strive and endeavor by that same impulse that others should l ive according to their way of thinking. Aga in, since the highest good sought by men under the sway of emotion is often such that only one man can possess i t, the re­ sul t is that men who love it are at odds with themselves; and, while they rejoice to sing the praises of the object of their love, they are afraid of being believed. But he who endeavors to guide others by reason acts not from impulse but from kindly concern, and is entirely consistent with himself.

Whatever we desire and do, whereof we are the cause insofar as we have the idea of God, that is, insofar as we know God, I refer to Rel igion [religio] . The de­ sire to do good which derives from our l iving by the gUidance of reason, I call Piety [pietas]. Again, the desire to establish friendship with others, a desire that characterizes the man who l ives by the guidance of reason, I call Sense of Honor

340 Ethics

[honestas] ; and I use the term "honorable" for what is praised by men who l ive by the guidance of reason, and "base" for what is opposed to the establ ishing of friendship. Moreover, I have demonstrated what are the foundations of the state. Again, the difference between true virtue and weakness can readily be appre­ hended from what has been said above; namely, true virtue is nothing other than to l ive by the guidance of reason, and so weakness consists solely in th is, that a man suffers himself to be led by things external to h imself and is determined by them to act in a way required by the general state of external circumstances, not by his own nature considered only in itself.

These are the proofS wh ich I undertook in Sch. Pr. 1 8, IV to establish. From this it is clear that the requirement to refrain from slaughtering beasts is founded on groundless superstition and womanish compassion rather than on sound rea­ son . The principle of seeking our own advantage teaches us to be in close rela­ tionship with men , not with beasts or things whose nature is different from human nature, and that we have the same right over them as they over us. Indeed, since every individual's right is defined by his virtue or power, man's right over beasts is far greater than their rights over man. I do not deny that beasts feel; I am denying that they are on that account debarred from paying heed to our own advantages and from making use of them as we please and deal ing with them as best suits us, seeing that they do not agree with us in nature and these emotions are different in nature from human emotions (Sch. Pr. 57, III) .

It remains for me to explain what is just, what is unjust, what is sin and what is merit. On these matters, see the following Schol ium.

Scholium 2 In Appendix Part I I undertook to explain what is praise, what is blame, what is merit, what is sin, what is just and what is unjust. With regard to praise and blame, I have explained them in Sch. Pr. 29, III. The occasion has now arrived for me to speak of the others. But I must first speak briefly of man in a state of nature and of man in society.

Every man exists by the sovereign natural right, and consequently by the sov­ ereign natural right every man does what follows from the necessity of his nature. So i t is by the sovereign natural right that every man judges what is good and what is bad, and has regard for h is own advantage according to his own way of think­ ing (Prs. 19 and 20, IV), and seeks revenge (Cor. 2, Pro 40, III) , and endeavors to preserve what he loves and to destroy what he hates (Pr. 28, III) . Now if men lived by the guidance of reason, every man would possess this right of his (Cor. I, Pr. 3 5 , IV) without any harm to another. But since men are subject to emotions (Cor. Pr. 4, IV) which far surpass the power or virtue of men (Pr. 6, IV), they are there­ fore often pulled in different directions (Pr. 33 , IV) and are contrary to one an­ other (Pr. 34, IV) , while needing each other's help (Sch. Pro 3 5 , IV) .

Therefore, in order that men may l ive in harmony and help one another, it is necessary for them to give up their natural right and to create a feel ing of mutual confidence that they will refrain from any action that may be harmful to another. The way to bring this about (that men who are necessarily subject to passive emo­ tions (Cor. Pr. 4, IV) and are inconstant and variable (Pr. 3 3 , IV) should establish

Part N, Proposition 38 341

a mutual confidence and should trust one another) is obvious from Pro 7 , IV and Pro 39, Ill . There it was demonstrated that no emotion can be checked except by a stronger emotion contrary to the emotion which is to be checked, and that every man refrains from infl icting injury through fear of greater injury. On these terms, then, society can be establ ished, provided that it claims for itself the right that every man has of avenging himself and deciding what i s good and what i s evil; and furthermore if it has the power to prescribe common rules of behavior and to pass laws to enforce them, not by reason, which is incapable of checking the emotions (Sch. Pro 1 7, IV), but by threats.

Now such a society, strengthened by law and by the capacity to preserve itself, is called a State [civitas ] : and those who are protected by its rights are called Cit­ izens [cives ] . From this it can readily be understood that in a state of nature there is nothing that is universally agreed upon as good or evil , since every man in a state of nature has regard only to his own advantage and decides what is good and what is bad according to his own way of thinking and only insofur as he has regard to h is own advantage, and is not bound by any law to obey anyone but himself. Thus in a state of nature wrongdoing cannot be conceived, but i t can be in a civil state where good and bad are decided by common agreement and everyone is bound to obey the state. Wrongdoing is therefore nothing other than disobedi­ ence, which is therefore punishable only by the righ t of the State, and on the other hand obedience is held to be merit in a ci tizen because he is thereby deemed to deserve to enjoy the advantages of the state.

Again, in a state of nature nobody is by common agreement the owner [domi­ nus] of any thing, and in nature there is noth ing that can be said to belong to this man rather than that man. Everything belongs to everybody, and accordingly in a state of nature there cannot be conceived any intention to render to each what is h is own or to rob someone of what is h is. That is, in a state of nature nothing can be said to be just or unjust; this is so only in a civil state, where it is decided by common agreement what belongs to th is or that man. From th is it is clear that justice and injustice, wrongdoing and merit, are extrinsic notions, not attributes that explicate the nature of the mind. But I have said enough on this subject.

PROPOSITION 3 8 That which s o disposes the human body that i t can b e affected i n more ways, or which renders it capable of affecting external bodies in more ways, is advantageous to man, and proportionately more advantageous as the body is thereby rendered more capable of being affected in more ways and of affecting other bodies in more ways. On the other hand, that which renders the body less capable in these respects is harmful.

Proof In proportion as the body is rendered more capable in these respects, so is the mind rendered more capable of apprehension (Pr. 14, II); so that which dis­ poses the body in this way and renders it more capable in these respects is neces­ sarily good or advantageous (Prs. 26 and 27, IV) , and the more so as it renders the body more capable in these respects. On the other hand (by inversion of the same

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Pro 14, II, and Prs. 26 and 27, IV) , that which renders it less capable in these re­ spects is harmful.

PROPOSITION 39 Whatever is conducive to the preservation of the proportion of motion-and-rest, which the parts of the human body maintain toward one another, is good; and those things that effect a change in the propartion of motion-and-rest of the parts of the human body to one another are bad.

Proof The human body needs many other bodies for its preservation (Post.4, II) . But that which constitutes the form [forma] of the human body consists in th is, that its parts communicate their motions to one another in a certa in fixed pro­ portion (DeE before Lemma 4, q.v. after Pro 1 3 , II) . Therefore, whatever is con­ ducive to the preservation of the proportion of motion-and-rest, which the parts of the human body maintain toward one another, preserves the form of the hu­ man body and, consequently (Posts. 3 and 6, II), brings i t about that the human body can be affected in many ways and can affect external bodies in many ways, and is, therefore (by preceding Pr. ) , good. Again, whatever effects a change in the proportion of rnotion-and-rest of the parts of the human body (by the same Def. II) causes the hurnan body to assume a different form; that is (as is self-evident, and as we noted at the end of the Prefuce to Part IV), i t causes it to be destroyed, and consequently quite incapable of being affected in many ways, and is, there­ fore, bad (preceding Pr. ) .

Scholiurn In Part V I shall explain to what extent these thing. can h inder or be of service to the mind. But here it should be noted that I understand a body to die when its parts are so disposed as to rnaintain a different proportion of motion­ and-rest to one another. For I do not venture to deny that the hurnan body, wh ile reta ining blood circulation and whatever else is regarded as essential to life, can nevertheless assume another nature qui te different from its own. I have no reason to hold that a body does not die unless it turns into a corpse; indeed, experience seems to teach otherwise. It sometimes happens that a man undergoes such changes that I would not be prepared to say that he is the same person. I have heard tell of a certain Spanish poet who was seized with sickness, and although he recovered, he remained so unconscious of his past l ife that he did not believe that the stories and tragedies he had written were h is own. Indeed, he might have been taken for a child in adult form ifhe had also forgotten h is native tongue. And if th is seems incredible, what are we to say about babies? A man of advanced years believes their nature to be so different from h is own that he could not be per­ suaded that he had ever been a baby ifhe did not draw a parallel from other cases. But I prefer to leave these matters unresolved, so as not to afford material for the superstitious to raise new problems.

PROPOSITION 40 Whatever is conducive to man's social organization, or causes men to live in hannony, is advantageous, while those things that introduce discord into the state are bad.

Part N, Proposition 44 343

Proof Whatever things cause men to l ive in harmony cause them also to l ive by the guidance of reason (Pr. 3 5 , IV), and so are good (Prs. 26 and 27, IV), while those things that introduce discord are bad (by the same reasoning).

PROPOSITION 4 1 Plealmre is not i n itself bad, but good. O n the other hand, pain i s i n itself bad.

Proof Pleasure (Pr. I I , III and Sch.) is an emotion whereby the body's power of activity is increased or assisted. Pain, on the other hand, is an emotion whereby the body's power of activity is diminished or checked. Therefore (Pr. 38, IV) pleas­ ure in itself is good . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 42 Cheerfulness [hilaritas] cannot be excessive; it is alwcrys good. On the other hand, melancholy is always bad.

Proof Cheerfulness (see its definition in Sch. Pro I I , III) is pleasure which, in­ sofar as it is related to the body, consists in th is, that all parts of the body are affected equally; that is (Pr. 1 1 , III), the body's power of activity is increased or assisted in such a way that all its parts maintain the same proportion of motion­ and-rest toward one another. Thus (Pr. 39, IV) cheerfulness is always good, and cannot be excessive. But melancholy (see again its definition in same Sch. Pr. I I , III) is pa in, which, insofar as it is related to the body, consists in th is, that the body's power of activity is absolutely diminished or checked, and therefore (Pr. 38, IV) it is always bad.

PROPOSITION 43 Titillation [titillatio] can be excessive and bad. But anguish [dolor] can be good to the extent that titillation or pleasure is bad.

Proof Titillation is pleasure which, insofar as it is related to the body, consists in one or more of the body's parts being affected more than the rest. (See its def­ inition in Sch . Pro I I , III . ) The power of this emotion can be so great as to surpass the other activities of the body (Pr. 6 , IV) and to stay firmly fixed therein , and thus h inder the body's ability to be affected in numerous other ways. So (Pr. 38, IV) it can be bad. Again, angUish [dolor] on the other hand, which is pa in, cannot be good considered solely in itself (Pr. 4 1 , IV). However, because its force and in­ crease is defined by the power of an external cause compared with our own power (Pr. 5, IV), we can therefore conceive th is emotion as having infinite degrees of strength and infinite modes (Pr. 3, IV) . Thus, we can conceive it as being able to check titillation so that i t does not become excessive, and to that extent (by the first part of this proposition) it would prevent the body from being rendered less capable. Therefore, to that extent it is good.

PROPOSITION 44 Love and desire can be excessive.

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Proof Love is pleasure (Oef. of Emotions 6) accompanied by the idea of an ex­ ternal cause. Therefore, titillation (Sch . Pro I I , III) accompanied by the idea of an external cause is love, and thus love (by the preceding Pr.) can be excessive. Again, the strength of a desire is in proportion to that of the emotion from which i t arises (Pr. 37, IJI). Therefore, just as an emotion (Pr. 6, IV) can surpass the other activities of man, so too a desire arising from that same emotion can surpass the other desires, and can therefore be excessive in the same way as was the case with titillation in the previous proposition.

Scholium Cheerfulness, which I have asserted to be good, is more easily con­ ceived than observed. For the emotions by which we are daily assailed are gen­ erally related to some part of the body which is affected more than the rest. Therefore, emotions are as a general rule excessive and keep the mind obsessed with one single object to such an extent that it cannot th ink of anything else. And although men are subject to numerous emotions, and so few are found who are always assailed by one and the same emotion, yet there are some in whom one and the same emotion stays firmly fixed. For sometimes we see men so affected by one object that they think they have it before them even though it is not pres­ ent. When this happens to a man who is not asleep, we say he is delirious or mad, and no less mad are those thought to be who are fired with love, dreaming night and day only of their sweetheart or mistress, for they usually provoke ridicule. But when the miser thinks of nothing but gain or money, and the ambitious man of honor, they are not reckoned as mad, for they are usually unpopular and arouse disgust. But in reality avarice, ambition, lust, etc. are kinds of madness, although they are not accounted as diseases.

PROPOSITION 45 Hatred can never be good.

Proof We endeavor to destroy the man we hate (Pr. 39, III) ; that is (Pr. 37, IV), we endeavor to do something that is bad. Therefore . . . etc.

Scholium Note that here and in what follows, by hatred I mean only hatred to­ ward men.

Corollary 1 Envy, derision, contempt, anger, revenge, and the other emotions related to hatred or arising from hatred are bad. This is also clear from Pro 39, IJI and Pro 37, IV.

Corollary 2 Whatever we desire as a result of being affected by hatred is base, and, in a state, unjust. This is also clear from Pro 39, III and from the definitions of base and un just, q.v. in Sch. Pr. 37, IV.

Scholium I make a definite distinction between derision (which in Cor. I I said is bad) and laughter. For laughter, and l ikewise merriment, are pure pleasure, and so, provided that they are not excessive, they are good in themselves (Pr. 4 1 , IV). Certainly nothing but grim and gloomy superstition forbids enjoyment. Why is i t less fitting to drive away melancholy than to dispel hunger and thirst? The prin-

Part N, Proposition 47 345

ciple that gUides me and shapes my attitude to l ife is this: no deity, nor anyone else but the envious, takes pleasure in my weakness and my misfortune, nor does he take to be a virtue our tears, sobs, fearfulness, and other such th ings that are a mark of a weak spirit. On the contrary, the more we are affected with pleasure, the more we pass to state of greater perfection; that is, the more we necessarily participate in the divine nature. Therefore, it is the part of a wise man to make use of things and to take pleasure in them as far as he can (but not to the point of satiety, for that is not taking pleasure). It is, I repeat, the part of a wise man to re­ fresh and invigorate himself in moderation with good food and drink, as also with perfumes, with the beauty of blossoming plants, with dress, music, sporting activ­ ities, theaters, and the l ike, in wh ich every man can indulge without harm to an­ other. For the human body is composed of many parts of various kinds which are continually in need of fresh and varied nourishment so that the entire body may be equally capable of all the functions that follow from its own nature, and con­ sequently that the mind may be equally capable of simultaneously understanding many things. So this manner of life is in closest agreement both with our princi­ ples and with common practice. Therefore, of all ways ofl ife, th is is the best and is to be commended on all accounts. There is no need for me to deal more clearly or at greater length with this subject.

PROPOSITION 46 He who lives by the guidance of reason endeavors as far as he can to repay with love or nobility another's hatred, anger, contempt, etc. toward himself.

Proof All emotions of hatred are bad (Cor. I preceding Pr. ) , and thus he who lives by the guidance of reason will endeavor as far as he can not to be assailed by emotions of hatred (Pr. 19 , IV), and consequently (Pr. 37, IV) he will also en­ deavor that another should not suffer these same emotions. But hatred is increased by reciprocal hatred, and can on the other hand be extinguished by love (Pr. 43, III), so that hatred is transformed into love (Pr. 44, III) . Therefore, he who lives by the guidance of reason will endeavor to render back love, that is, nobility (for whose definition see Sch. Pr. 59, III) , in return for another's hatred, etc.

Scholium He who wishes to avenge injuries through reciprocal hatred l ives a miserable l ife indeed. But he who strives to overcome hatred with love is surely figh ting a happy and carefree battle. He resists several opponents as easily as one, and stands in least need of fortune's help. Those whom he conquers yield gladly, not through failure of strength but through its increase. All th is follows so clearly solely from the definitions of love and intellect that there is no need of deta iled proof.

PROPOSITION 47 The emotions of hope and fear cannot be good in themselves.

Proof The emotions of hope and fear cannot be without pain. For fear is pain (Def. of Emotions 1 3) , and there cannot be hope without fear (see Def. of Emo-

346 Ethics

tions 12 and 1 3 , Expl ications) . Therefore (Pr. 4 1 , IV) , these emotions cannot be good in themselves, but only insofar as they can check excessive pleasure (Pr. 43 , IV).

Scholium We should add that these emotions indicate a lack of knowledge and a weakness of mind, and for th is reason, too, confidence, despair, joy, and disap­ pointment are also indications of our weakness. For although confidence and joy are emotions of pleasure, they imply a preceding pain, namely, hope and fear. Therefore, the more we endeavor to l ive by the guidance of reason, the more we endeavor to be independent of hope, to free ourselves from fear, and to command fortune as far as we can, and to direct our actions by the sure counsel of reason.

PROPOSITION 48 The emotions of over-esteem [existimatio] and disparagement [despectus] are al­ ways bad.

Proof These emotions (Def. of Emotions 21 and 22) are opposed to reason, and so (Prs. 26 and 27, IV) are bad.

PROPOSITION 49 Over-esteem is apt to render its recipient praud.

Proof If we see that someone by reason of love has too high an opinion of us, we are incl ined to exult (Sch . Pr. 4 1 , III) , that is, to be affected with pleasure (Def. of Emotions 30), and we readily believe whatever good we hear sa id of us (Pr. 2 5 , IJI) . Thus, w e shall th ink too highly o f ourselves through self-love; that i s (Def. of Emotions 28), we shall be incl ined to pride.

PROPOSITION 50 In the man who lives lry the guidance of reason, pity is in itself bad and disadvan­ tageous.

Proof Pity is pain (Def. of Emotions 1 8) and therefore in itself it is bad (Pr. 4 1 , IV). Now the good that follows from i t (that we endeavor to free from distress one whom we pity (Cor. 3 , Pr. 27, IIJ)) we desire to do solely from the dictates of rea­ son (Pr. 37, IV) , and it is only from the dictates of reason that we desire to do someth ing that we certa inly know to be good (Pr. 27, IV). So in the man who lives by the gUidance of reason pity in itself is bad and disadvantageous.

Corollary Hence it follows that the man who lives by the dictates of reason en­ deavors, as far as he can, not to be touched by pity.

Scholium He who rightly knows that all things follow from the necessity of the divine nature and happen in accordance with the eternal laws and rules of Na­ ture will surely find nothing deserving of hatred, derision, or contempt nor will he pity anyone. Rather, as far as the virtue of man extends, he will endeavor to do well, as the saying goes, and be glad. Furthermore, he who is easily touched by the emotion of pity and is moved by another's distress or tears often does some-

Part N, Proposition 52 347

th ing which he later regrets, both because from emotion we do nothing that we certainly know to be good and because we are easily deceived by false tears. Now I emphasize that I am here speaking of the man who lives by the gu idance of rea­ son. For he who is moved neither by reason nor by pity to render help to others is rightly called inhuman. For (Pr. 27, III) he seems to be unl ike a man.

PROPOSITION 5 1 Approbation [favor] is not opposed to reason; it can agree with reason and arise from it.

Proof Approbation is love toward one who has benefited another (Oef. of Emo­ tions 1 9) ; thus i t can be related to the mind insofar as the mind is said to be ac­ tive (Pr. 59, III) , that is (Pr. 3 , III) , insofar as it understands. Therefore i t is in agreement with reason . . . etc.

Another Proof He who lives by the guidance of reason desires for another, too, the good that he seeks for himself (Pr. 37, IV) . Therefore, as a result of seeing someone do good to another, h is own conatus to do good is assisted; that is (Sch . Pro I I , III) , he will feel pleasure accompanied (by hypothesis) by the idea of him who has benefited another and so he feels well-disposed toward him (Oef. ofEmo­ tions 19) .

Scholium Indignation , as we have defined it (Oef. of Emotions 20) , is neces­ sarily evil (Pr. 45 , IV) . But it should be noted that when the sovereign power, through its duty to safeguard peace, pun ishes a citizen who has inju red another, I am not saying that it is indignant with citizen. It punishes him not because i t is stirred by hatred to destroy the citizen, but from a sense of duty [pietate].

PROPOSITION 52 Self-contentment [acquiescentia in se ipso] can arise {rom reason, and only that self -contentment which arises from reason is the highest there can be.

Proof Self-contentment is the pleasure arising from a man's contemplation of himself and his power of activity (Oef. of Emotions 2 5 ) . Now man's true power of activity, or his virtue, is reason itself (Pr. 3, III) , which man regards clearly and dis­ tinctly (Prs. 40 and 43 , II) . Therefore self-contentment arises from reason. Again, in contemplating himself a man perceives clearly and distinctly, that is, ade­ quately, only what follows from his power of activity (Oef. 2, III) , that is (Pr. 3, III) , what follows from his power of understanding. So the greatest self-contentment there can be arises only from th is contemplation.

Scholium In fact self-contentment is the highest good we can hope for. For (as we proved in Pr. 2 5 , IV) nobody endeavors to preserve his own being for the sake of something else. And because this self-contentment is increasingly fostered and strengthened by praise (Cor. Pro 5 3 , III), and on the other hand is increasingly dis­ turbed by blame (Cor. Pr. 5 5 , III), honor [gloria] is the greatest incentive, and we can scarcely endure l ife in disgrace.

348 Ethics

PROPOSITION 5 3 Humility is not a virtue; that is, it does not arise {rom reason.

Proof Humil ity is the pa in arising from a man's contemplation of h is own weak­ ness (Def. of Emotions 26). Now insofar as a man knows h imself by true reason , to that extent he is assumed to understand his own essence, that is (Pr. 7, Ill) , h is own power. Therefore if a man, in contemplating himself, perceives some weak­ ness in himself, this does not arise from his understanding himself but (Pr. 5 5 , JII) from the checking of his power of activity. Now if we suppose that a man con­ ceives his own weakness from understanding someth ing more powerful than him­ self, by the knowledge of which he measures his own power of activity, we are conceiving only that the man understands himself distinctly; that is (Pr. 26, IV), that his power of activity is assisted. Therefore the humil i ty, or the pain, that arises from a man's contemplation of h is own weakness, does not arise from true con­ templation or reason, and is not a virtue but a passive emotion.

PROPOSITION 54 Repentance is not a virtue, i.e. it does not arise {rom reason; he who repents of his action is doubly unhappy or weak.

Proof The first part of this Proposition is proved in the same way as the preced­ ing proposi tion. The second part is evident simply from the definition of this emo­ tion (Def. of Emotions 27). For the subject suffers himself to be overcome first by a wicked desire [cupiditasl , and then by pain.

Scholium As men seldom l ive according to the dictates of reason, these two emotions, humil i ty and repentance, and also hope and fear, bring more advan­ tage than harm; and thus, if sin we must, it is better to sin in their direction. For if men of weak spirit should all equally be subject to pride, and should be ashamed of nothing and afraid of nothing, by what bonds could they be held together and bound? The mob is fearsome, if it does not fear. So it is not surprising that the prophets, who had regard for the good of the whole community, and not of the few, have been so zealous in commending humility, repentance, and reverence. And in fact those who are subject to these emotions can be fur more readily in­ duced than others to l ive by the guidance of reason in the end, that is, to become free men and enjoy the life of the blessed.

PROPOSITION 5 5 Extreme pride, o r self-abasement, i s extreme ignorance of oneself

Proof This is clear from Definition of Emotions 28 and 29.

PROPOSITION 56 Extreme pride, or self-abasement, indicates extreme weakness of spirit.

Proof The primary basis of virtue is to preserve one's own being (Cor. Pro 22 , IV) , and this by the guidance of reason (Pr. 24, IV) . So he who is ignorant of h im-

Part N, Proposition 57 349

self is ignorant of the basis of all the virtues, and consequently of all the virtues. Again, to act from virtue is nothing else but to act from the guidance of reason (Pr. 24, IV) , and he who acts from the guidance of reason must necessarily know that he acts from the guidance of reason (Pr. 43, II). Therefore, he whose igno­ rance of himself (and consequently as I have just demonstrated, of all the virtues) is extreme, acts least of all from virtue; that is (as is evident from Def. 8, IV), he is most impoten t in spirit . And so (by the preceding Pr.) extreme pride or self­ abasement indicates extreme weakness of spirit .

Corollary Hence it clearly follows that the proud and the self-abased are most subject to emotions.

Scholium But self-abasement can be more easily corrected than pride, since the latter is an emotion of pleasure, while the former is an emotion of pain. So the latter is stronger than the former (Pr. 18 , IV).

PROPOSITION 57 The proud man loves the company of parasites or flatterers, and hates the company of those of noble spirit.

Proof Pride is the pleasure arising from a man's thinking too highly of himself (Def. of Emotions 28 and 6), a belief which the proud man will endeavor to fos­ ter as much as he can (Sch. Pr. 1 3, III) . So the proud love the company of para­ sites and flatterers (I omit their definitions as being too well-known) and shun the company of those of noble spirit, who value them according to their deserts.

Scholium It would be tedious to recount here all the ills that spring from pride, for the proud are subject to all the emotions, though to love and pity least of all. But I must not omit here to mention that the term "proud" is also applied to a man who thinks too meanly of others, and so in th is sense pride should be defined as the pleasure arising from false belief, in that a man thinks himself above oth­ ers. And the self-abasement which is the opposite of this pride should be defined as the pain arising from false belief, in that a man thinks himself beneath others. Now on this basis we readily conceive that the proud man is necessarily envious (Sch. Pr. 5 5 , III) and hates most those who are praised for their virtues-a hatred that cannot easily be conquered by their love and kindness (Sch. Pr. 4 1 , III) -and finds pleasure only in the company of those who humor h is weakness of spirit and turn h is folly to madness.

Although self-abasement is the opposite of pride, the self-abased man is very close to the proud man. For since h is pain arises from judging h is own weakness by the power or virtue of others, his pain will be assuaged, that is, he will feel pleas­ ure, ifhis thoughts are engaged in contemplating other people's limIts. This is the origin of the proverb: "The consolation of the wretched is to have fellows in mis­ fortune." On the other hand, he will be more pained in proportion as he thinks h imself lower than others. Hence it comes about that the self-abased are more prone to envy than all others, and that they, more than any, endeavor to keep watch on men's deeds with a view to criticizing rather than correcting them, and

350 Ethics

they end up by praising only self-abasement and exulting in it even while still pre­ serving the appearance of self-abasemen t.

Now these results follow from this emotion with the same necessity as it fol­ lows from the nature of a triangle that its angles are equal to two right angles, and I have already stated that it is only in respect of the good of man that I call these and similar emotions evil . But the laws of Nature have regard to the universal or­ der of Nature, of which man is a part I have thought first to note this in passing lest anyone should think that my intention here has been to recount the faults and absurdities of mankind rather than to demonstrate the nature and properties of things. As I said in the Preface to Part III , I consider human emotions and their properties on the same footing with other natural phenomena. And surely human emotions indicate, if not human power, at any rate the power and intricacy ofNa­ ture to no less a degree than many other things that evoke our wonder and whose contemplation gives pleasure. But I am going on to point out what features in our emotions bring advantage or harm to men.

PROPOSITION 58 Honor is not opposed to reason, but can arise {rom it.

Proof This is evident from De£ of Emotions 30, and from the definition ofhon­ orable, for which see Sch. I , Pr. 37, IV.

Scholium Vainglory, as it is called, is the self-contentment that is fostered only by popular esteem and ceases with it; that is (Sch. Pr. 52 , IV), the h ighest good which everyone loves, ceases. So it happens that he who exults in popular esteem has the daily burden of anxiously striving, acting and contriving to preserve h is reputation. For the populace is fickle and inconstant, and unless a reputation is preserved it soon withers away. Indeed, since all are eager to capture the applause of the populace, each is ready to decry another's reputation. As a result, s ince the prize at stake is what is esteemed the h ighest good, there arises a fierce desire to put down one's rivals in whatever way one can, and he who finally emerges vic­ torious prides himself more on having hindered another than on having gained an advantage for himself So this kind of glory, or self-contentment, is really vain because i t is noth ing.

As to what is to be remarked about Shame [pudorj, this can readily be gathered from our account of compassion and repentance. I shall merely add this, that shame, l ike pity, although not a virtue, can be good insofur as it is an indication that the man who feels ashamed has a desire to live honorably, just as is the case with anguish, which is said to be good insofar as it indicates that the in jured part has not yet putrefied. Therefore, although the man who is ashamed of some deed is in fact pained, he is nearer perfection than the shameless man who has no de­ s ire to l ive honorably.

I have now completed my undertaking to deal with the emotions of pleasure and pa in. As for desires, they are, of course, good or evil insofur as they arise from good or evil emotions. But in truth all desires insofur as they are engendered in us from passive emotions, are bl ind (as can easily be gathered from a reading of

Part N, Proposition 59 3 5 1

Sch . Pro 44 , IV) and would b e ineffective i f men could readily b e induced t o l ive only according to the dictates of reason, as I shall now demonstrate in brief.

PROPOSITION 59 In the case of all actions to which we are detennined by a passive emotion, we can be detennined thereto by reason without that emotion.

Proof To act from reason is nothing else but to do what follows from the neces­ sity of our own nature considered solely in itself (Pr. 3 and Def. 2, III) . Now pain is bad to the extent that it diminishes or checks this power of action (Pr. 4 1 , IV). Therefore, we cannot be determined from this emotion to any action that we could not do if we were guided by reason. Moreover, pleasure is bad to the extent that i t hinders a man's capacity for action (Prs. 41 and 43, IV), and to that extent also we cannot be determined to any action that we could not do if we were guided by reason. Finally, insofar as pleasure is good, it is in agreement with reason (for it consists in this, that a man's power of activity is increased or assisted), and it is a passive emotion only insofar as a man's power of activity is not increased to such a degree that he adequately conceives h imself and h is actions (Pr. 3, III and Sch.) Therefore, if a man affected with pleasure were brought to such a degree of per­ fection that he were adequately to conceive himself and h is actions, he would be capable, indeed, more capable, of those same actions to which he is now deter­ mined by passive emotions. Now all emotions are related to pleasure, pain, or de­ sire (see Explication of DeE of Emotions 4), and desire is merely the endeavor to act (Def. of Emotions I ) . Therefore, in the case of all actions to which we are de­ termined by a passive emotion, we can be guided thereto by reason alone, with­ out the emotion.

Another Proof Any action is sa id to be bad insofar as i t arises from our having been affected with hatred or some evil emotion (Cor. I, Pro 45, IV). But no ac­ tion, considered solely in itself, is good or evil (as we demonstrated in the Preface, Part IV), but one and the same action can be now good, now evil . Therefore, we can be guided by reason to that same action wh ich is now bad, that is, which arises from an evil emotion (Pr. 19, IV).

Scholium An example will make this clearer. The act of striking a blow, insofar as it is considered physically and insofar as we look only to the fact that a man raises an arm, clenches h is fist and violently brings his arm down, is a virtue, conceived as resulting from the structure of the human body. So if a man, stirred by anger or hatred, is determined to clench his fist or move h is arm, this happens because (as we demonstrated in Part II), one and the same action can be associated with any images whatsoever. And so we can be determined to one and the same action both from images of things which we conceive confusedly and from those we conceive clearly and distinctly. It is therefore clear that if men could be guided by reason, all desire that arises from passive emotion would be ineffective [nullius esset usus].

Now let us see why desire that arises from an emotion , that is, a passive emo­ tion, is called blind.

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PROPOSITION 60 Desire that arises from the pleasure or pain that is related to one or more, but not to all, parts of the body takes no account of the advantage of the whole man.

Proof Let it be supposed that part A of the body is so strengthened by the force of some external cause that it prevails over the other parts (Pr. 6, IV). This part will not endeavor to abate i ts own strength in order that other parts of the body may perform their function, for then i t would have to possess the force or power to abate its own strength, wh ich is absurd (Pr. 6 , III). Therefore that part of the body, and consequently the mind too (Prs. 7 and 12, III), will endeavor to pre­ serve the existing condition. Therefore, the desire that arises from such an emo­ tion of pleasure takes no account of the whole. Now if we suppose on the other hand that part A is checked so that the other parts prevail over i� it can be proved in the same way that desire arising from pain l ikewise takes no account of the whole.

Scholiurn Therefore, since pleasure is usually related to one part of the body (Sch. Pr. 44, IV), we usually desire to preserve our being without taking account of our entire well-being. There is also the fact that the desires by which we are most enslaved (Cor. Pro 9, IV) take into account only the present, not the future.

PROPOSITION 6 1 Desire that arises from reason cannot be excessive.

Proof Desire (Def. of Emotions I ) , considered absolutely, is man's very essence insofar as he is conceived as determined in any manner to some action. There­ fore desire that arises from reason, that is (Pr. 3, III), desire that is engendered in us insofar as we are active, is man's very essence of nature insofur as it is conceived as determined to such actions as are adequately conceived through man's essence alone (De£. 2 , III) . So if th is desire could be excessive, human nature, considered absolutely, could exceed itself, that is, i t could do more than it can do, which is a manifest contradiction. Therefore, th is desire cannot be excessive.

PROPOSITION 62 Insofar as the mind conceives things in accordance with the dictates of reason, it is equally affected whether the idea be of the future, in the past, or the present.

Proof Whatsoever the mind conceives under the gUidance of reason, it con­ ceives under the same form of eternity or necessity (Cor. 2, Pr. 44, II), and is af­ fected with the same certa inty (Pr. 43 , II and Sch.) . Therefore, whether the idea be of the future, the past, or the present, the mind conceives the thing with the same necessity and is affected with the same certa inty; and whether the idea be of the future, the past, or the present, it will nevertheless be equally true (Pr. 4 1 , II) ; that i s (De£. 4 , II), i t will nevertheless always have the same properties o f a n adequate idea. Therefore, insofar a s the mind conceives things according to the dictates of reason, it is affected in the same way, whether the idea be of a th ing fu­ ture, past, or present.

Part N, Proposition 63 3 53

Scholium If we could have an adequate knowledge of the duration of things and could determine by reason the periods of their existence, we should regard things future with the same emotion as things present, and the mind would seek the good that it conceives as future just as much as present good. Consequently, i t would necessarily prefer a future greater good to a lesser presen t good, and would by no means seek that which is good in the present but the cause of future evil, as we shall later demonstrate. But we can have only a very inadequate knowledge of the duration of things (Pr. 3 1 , II), and we determine the periods of existence of th ings by imagination alone (Sch. Pro 44, II), which is more strongly affected by the image of a th ing presen t than of a th ing future. Thus it comes about that the true knowledge we have of good and evil is only abstract or universal, and the judgment that we make concerning the order of things and the connection of causes so that we may determine what is good or bad for us in the present pertains more to the imagination than to reality. So it is not surprising that desire that arises from a knowledge of good and evil , insofur as th is knowledge has reference to the future, can be more readily checked by desire of things that are attractive in the present. See Pr. 1 6, IV.

PROPOSITION 6 3 He who i s guided by (ear, and does good so as t o avoid evil, is not guided by reason.

Proof All emotions that are related to the mind insofur as it is active, that is (Pr. 3 , III), emotions that are related to reason, are emotions of pleasure and desire only (Pr. 59, III) . Therefore (Def. of Emotions 1 3) , he who is gUided by fear and does good through fear of evil is not gu ided by reason.

Scholium The superstitious, who know how to censure vice rather than to teach virtue, and who are eager not to guide men by reason but to restrain them by fear so that they may shun evil rather than love virtue, have no other object than to make others as wretched as themselves. So it is not surprising that they are gen­ erally resented and hated.

Corollary Through the desire that arises from reason we pursue good directly and shun evil indirectly.

Proof The desire that arises from reason can arise only from an emotion of pleas­ ure that is not passive (Pr. 59, III) , that is, from a pleasure that cannot be exces­ sive (Pr. 6 1 , IV), and not from pain; and therefore this pleasure (Pr. 8, IV) arises from knowledge of good, not of evil . So by the guidance of reason we directly a im at the good, and only to that extent do we shun evil.

Scholium This corollary can be illustrated by the example of the sick man and the healthy man. The sick man eats what he dislikes through fear of death. The healthy man takes pleasure in his food and thus enjoys a better l ife than ifhe were to fear death and directly seek to avoid it. Likewise the judge who condemns a man to death not through hatred or anger but solely through love of public wel­ fure is guided only by reason.

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PROPOSITION 64 Knowledge of evil is inadequate knowledge.

Proof Knowledge of evil is pain itself (Pr. 8, IV) insofur as we are conscious of i t. Now pain is a transition to a state ofless perfection (Def. of Emotions 3), which therefore cannot be understood through man's essence itself (Prs. 6 and 7 , III) and so is a passive emotion (Def. 2 , III) which depends on inadequate ideas (Pr. 3 , III). Consequently knowledge of it (Pr. 29, I1)- that is, knowledge of evil - is inade­ quate knowledge.

Corollary Hence i t follows that if the human mind had only adequate ideas, it could not form any notion of evil .

PROPOSITION 65 By the guidance of reason we pursue the greater of two goods and the lesser of two evils.

Proof The good that prevents us from enjoying a greater good is in reality an evil; for evil and good are terms used (as I have demonstrated in the Prefuce to Part IV) insofar as we compare things with one another, and by the same reason­ ing a lesser evil is in reality a good. Therefore (Cor. Pr. 63 , IV) , by the guidance of reason we a im at or pursue only the greater good and the lesser evil.

Corollary Under the guidance of reason we pursue a lesser evil for a greater good, and we reject a lesser good which is the cause of a greater evil. For what is here called the lesser evil is in reality a good, and the good on the other hand an evil . Therefore, we choose the former and reject the latter (Cor. Pr. 63 , IV).

PROPOSITION 66 Under the guidance of reason we seek a future greater good in preference to a lesser present good, and a lesser present evil in preference to a greater future evil.

Proof If the mind could have an adequate knowledge of what is to come, it would be affected by the same emotion toward a future thing as toward a present th ing (Pr. 62, IV). Thus insofar as we have regard to reason itself, as we assume we are doing in this proposition , a th ing is the same whether it is supposed to be a greater good or evil in the future or in the present. Therefore (Pr. 65, IV), we seek a future greater good in preference to a lesser present good . . . etc.

Corollary Under the guidance of reason we choose a present lesser evil which is the cause of a future greater good, and we reject a present lesser good which is the cause of a future greater evil. This corollary is related to the preceding propo­ sition, just as Cor. Pr. 65 to Pr. 6 5 .

Scholium If these statements be compared with what we have demonstrated in this Part up to Pro 1 8 with reference to the strength of the emotions, we shall read­ ily see the difference between the man who is guided only by emotion or belief and the man who is guided by reason. The former, whether he will or not, per-

Part IV, Proposition 69 3 5 5

forms actions of which h e i s completely ignorant. The latter does n o one's will but his own, and does only what he knows to be of greatest importance in life, which he therefore desires above all. So I call the former a slave and the latter a free man , of whose character and manner ofl ife I have yet a few things to say.

PROPOSITION 67 A free man thinks of death least of all things, and his wisdom is a meditation of life, not of death.

Proof A free man, that is, he who l ives solely according to the dictates of reason , is not guided by fear of death (Pr. 63 , IV) , but d irectly desires the good (Cor. Pr. 63 , IV); that is (Pr. 24, IV), to act, to l ive, to preserve his own being in accordance with the prinCiple of seeking his own advantage. So he thinks of death least of all things, and his wisdom is a meditation upon life.

PROPOSITION 68 If men were born {ree, they would form no conception of good and evil so long as they were {ree.

Proof I have said that a free man is he who is guided solely by reason. There­ fore, he who is born free and remains free has only adequate ideas and thus has no conception of evil (Cor. 64, IV), and consequently no conception of good (for good and evil are correlative).

Scholium It is clear from Pr. 4, IV that the hypothesis in th is proposition is false and cannot be conceived except insofar as we have regard solely to the nature of man, or rather, to God not insofar as he is infinite but only insofar as he is the cause of man's existence. This and other truths that we have already demonstrated seem to be what Moses intended by h is h istory of the first man. For in that narra­ tive no other power of God is conceived save that whereby he created man; that is, the power whereby he had regard only for man's advantage. And this is the point of the story that God forbade the free man to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil , saying that as soon as he should eat of it he would straightway fear death instead of desiring to l ive. Again, the story goes that when man had found woman, who agreed entirely with his own nature, he realized that there could be noth ing in Nature more to h is advantage than woman. But when he came to be­ l ieve that the beasts were l ike h imself, he straightway began to imitate their emo­ tions (Pr. 27 , III) and to lose h is freedom, wh ich the Patriarchs later regained under the guidance of the spirit of Christ, that is, the idea of God, on which alone i t depends that a man should be free and should desire for mankind the good that he desires for h imself, as I have demonstrated above (Pr. 37, IV).

PROPOSITION 69 The virtue of a {ree man is seen to be as great in avoiding dangers as in overcoming them. Proof An emotion cannot be checked or removed except by a contrary emotion stronger than the emotion which is to be checked (Pr. 7 , IV). But bl ind daring

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[caeca audacia I and fear are emotions that can be conceived as equally strong (Prs. 5 and 3 , IV). Therefore the virtue or strength of mind (for its definition see Sch . Pr. 59, III) needed to check daring must be equally as great as that needed to check fear; that is (Def. of Emotions 40 and 4 1 ), the free man avoids dangers by that same virtue as that whereby he attempts to overcome them.

Corollary Therefore, for a free man timely retreat is as much a mark of courage as is fighting; that is, the free man chooses fl igh t by the same courage or spirited­ ness as he chooses battle.

Scholium I have explained in Sch . Pro 59, III what courage is, or what I under­ stand by it. By danger I mean everything that can be the cause of some evil , such as pa in, hatred, discord, etc.

PROPOSITION 70 The free man who lives among ignorant people tries as far as he can to avoid re­ ceiving favors from them.

Proof Every man judges what is good according to h is own way ofthinking (Sch . Pr. 39, Ill) . Thus the ignorant man who has conferred a fuvor on someone will value i t according to h is own way of th inking, and ifhe sees that the recipient val­ ues it less, he will feel pain (Pr. 42, Ill) . Now the free man tries to establish friend­ ship with others (Pr. 37, IV) and not to repay men with favors that are equivalent in their eyes. Rather he tries to guide himself and others by the free judgment of reason and to do only those things that he himself knows to be of primary im­ portance. Therefore, to avoid both the hatred of the ignorant and the need to comply with their expectations, and so as to make reason h is sole ruler, he will endeavor as far as he can to avoid their fuvors.

Scholium I say, "as fur as he can"; for men, however ignorant, are still men, who in time of need can bring human help, than which nothing is more valuable. So it often happens that it is necessary to accept a favor from them, and consequently to return i t so as to give them satisfaction . Furthermore, we should exercise cau­ tion even in avoiding their favors so as to avoid appearing to despise them or to be reluctant through avarice to repay them, thus giving offense by the very attempt to escape their hatred. Thus in avoiding favors one should take account of what is advantageous and honorable.

PROPOSITION 7 1 Only free men are truly grateful to one another.

Proof Only free men are truly advantageous to one another and united by the closest bond of friendship (Pr. 3 5 , IV and Cor. I ) . and are equally motivated by love in endeavoring to benefit one another (Pr. 37, IV). And thus (Def. of Emo­ tions 34) only free men are truly grateful to one another.

Scholium The gratitude mutually exhibited by men who are governed by bl ind desire is more in the nature of a bargain or inducement than gratitude. Moreover,

Part N, Proposition 73 357

ingratitude i s not an emotional state. Nevertheless, ingratitude is base, because i t generally is a sign that a man is affected with excessive hatred, anger, pride, or avarice, etc. For if out of stupidity a man knows not how to repay benefits, he is not an ungrateful man; and far less so is he who is not won over by the gifts of a loose woman to serve her lust, nor by the gifts of a thief to conceal h is thefts, nor by the gifts of anyone ofl ike character. On the contrary, he shows a steadfast spirit, in that he refuses to be corrupted by gifts to his own hurt or that of society.

PROPOSITION 72 The free man never acts deceitfully, but always with good faith.

Proof If the free man, insofar as he is free, were to act deceitfully, he would be doing so in accordance with the dictates of reason (for i t is in this respect only that we term him free), and thus to act deceitfully would be a virtue (Pr. 24, IV), and consequently (by the same proposition), in order to preserve his own being, it would be better for every man to act deceitfully, that is (as is self-evident), it would be better for men to agree in words only, but to be contrary to one another in re­ al i ty, which is absurd (Cor. Pr. 3 1 , IV). Therefore the free man . . . etc.

Scholium The question may be asked: "What if a man could by deception free himself from imminent danger of death? Would not consideration for the preser­ vation of his own being be decisive in persuading him to deceive?" I reply in the same way, that if reason urges th is, i t does so for all men; and thus reason urges men in general to join forces and to have common laws only with deceitful in­ tention; that is, in effect, to have no laws in common at all, which is absurd.

PROPOSITION 7 3 The man who is guided Iry reason i s more free i n a state where h e lives under a sys­ tem of law than in solitude where [he] obeys only himself

Proof The man who is guided by reason is not guided to obey out of fear (Pr. 63 , IV) , but insofar as he endeavors to preserve his own being according to the dic­ tates of reason- that is (Sch. Pro 66, IV), insofar as he endeavors to l ive freely­ he desires to take account of the life and the good of the community (Pr. 37, IV), and consequently (as I have pointed out in Sch. 2 , Pr. 37, IV) to l ive according to the laws of the state. Therefore, the man who is gUided by reason desires to ad­ here to the laws of the state so that he may live more freely.

Scholium These and similar observations that we have made concerning the true freedom of man are related to strength of mind, that is (Pr. 59, III) , courage and nobil ity. I do not th ink i t worthwhile at this point to give separate proof of all the properties of strength of mind, and far less to show that the strong-minded man hates nobody, is angry with nobody, envies nobody, is indignant with nobody, de­ spises nobody, and is in no way prone to pride. For these points and all that con­ cern the true way of life and rel igion are readily proved from Prs. 37 and 46, IV, to wit, that hatred is to be conquered by returning love, and that every man who is guided by reason a ims at procuring for others, too, the good that he seeks for

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himself. Furthermore, as we have noted in Sch. Pro 50 , IV and elsewhere, the strong-minded man has this foremost in h is mind, that everything follows from the necessity of the divine nature, and therefore whatever he thinks of as in juri­ ous or bad, and also whatever seems impious, horrible, unjust, and base arises from his conceiving things in a disturbed, fragmented, and confused way. For this reason h is prime endeavor is to conceive things as they are in themselves and to remove obstacles to true knowledge, such as hatred, anger, envy, derision, pride, and similar emotions that we have noted. And so he endeavors, as far as he can , to do well and to be glad, as we have sa id.

In the next Part, I shall pass on to demonstrate the extent to which human virtue can achieve these objectives, and the nature of its power.

APPENDIX

In th is Part my exposition of the right way of l iving is not arrnnged so that it can be seen at one view. The proofs are scattered so as to meet the convenience oflog­ ical deduction one from another. So I propose to gather them together here, and arrange them under their main headings.

I. All our endeavors or desires follow from the necessity of our nature in such a way that they can be understood either through it alone as their approximate cause, or insofar as we are a part of Nature, a part that cannot be adequately con­ ceived through itself independently of the other individual parts.

2 . Desires that follow from our nature in such a way that they can be under­ stood through it alone are those that are related to the mind insofar as the mind is conceived as consisting of adequate ideas. The other desires are related to the mind only insofar as it conceives things inadequately; and their force and increase must be defined not by human power but by the power of things external to us. So the former are rightly called active emotions, the latter passive emotions. For the former always indicate our power, the latter our weakness and fragmentary knowledge.

3. Our active emotions, that is, those desires that are defined by man's power, that is, by reason, are always good; the other desires can be either good or evil .

4. Therefore it is of the first importance in l ife to perfect the intellect, or rea­ son, as far as we can, and the h ighest happiness or blessedness for mankind con­ sists in this alone. For blessedness is nothing other than that self-contentrnent that arises from the intuitive knowledge of God. Now to perfect the intellect is also nothing other than to understand God and the attributes and actions of God that follow from the necessity of h is nature. Therefore for the man who is guided by reason, the final goal , that is, the highest Desire whereby he strives to control all the others, is that by which he is brought to an adequate conception of himself and of all things that can fall within the scope of h is understanding.

5. So there is no rational l ife without understanding, and things are good only insofar as they assist a man to enjoy the life of the mind, which is defined by un-

Part lV, Appendix 359

derstanding. Those things only do we call evil which h inder a man's capacity to perfect reason and to enjoy a rational life.

6. But s ince all those things of wh ich man is the efficient cause are neces­ sarily good, noth ing evil can befall a man except from external causes, namely, insofar as he is a part of the whole of Nature, whose laws human nature is con­ stra ined to obey, and to which it must conform in almost an infinite number of ways.

7. A man is bound to be a part of Nature and to follow its universal order; but if he dwells among individuals who are in harmony with man's nature, by that very fact h is power of activity will be assisted and fostered. But ifhe be among in­ dividuals who are by no means in harmony with his nature, he will scarcely be able to conform to them without a great change in himself.

8. Whatsoever in nature we deem evil , that is, capable of hindering us from being able to exist and to enjoy a rational life, it is permissible for us to remove in whatever seems the safer way. On the other hand, whatever we deem good, that is, advantageous for preserving our being and for enjoying a rational l ife, it is per­ missible for us to take for our use and to use i t as we please. And as an absolute rule, it is permissible by the highest natural right for everyone to do what he judges to be to h is own advantage.

9. Nothing can be more in harmony with the nature of anything than other individuals of the same species, and so (see No. 7) there is nothing more advan­ tageous to man for preserving h is own being and enjoying a rational l ife than a man who is guided by reason. Again, since among particular things we know of nothing more excellent than a man who is gu ided by reason , nowhere can each individual display the extent of his skill and genius more than in so educating men that they come at last to l ive under the sway of their own reason.

1 0 . Insofar as men feel envy or some other emotion of hatred toward one an­ other, they are contrary to one another; consequently, the more powerful they are, the more they are to be feared than other individuals of Nature.

I I . Nevertheless men's hearts are conquered not by arms but by love and no­ bil ity.

1 2 . It is of the first importance to men to establish close relationsh ips and to bind themselves together with such ties as may most effectively unite them into one body, and, as an absolute rule, to act in such a way as serves to strengthen friendship.

1 3 . But to th is end skill and watchfulness are needed. For men are changeable (few there are who l ive under the direction of reason) and yet for the most part envious, and more inclined to revenge than to compassion. So it needs an un­ usually powerful spirit to bear with each according to h is disposition and to re­ stra in oneself from imitating their emotions. On the other hand, those whose skill is to criticize mankind and to censure vice rather than to teach virtue, and to shat­ ter men's spirit rather than strengthen it, are a stumbling block both to themselves and to others. Hence many men, over-impatient and with false religious zeal , have chosen to l ive among beasts rather than among men, just as boys or young men , unable patiently to endure the upbraidings of their parents, run away to join the

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army, and prefer the hardships of war and tyrannical discipl ine to the comfort of home and parental admonition, and suffer any burdens to be imposed on them so long as they can spite their parents.

1 4. So although men for the most part allow lust to govern all their actions, the advantages that follow from l iving in their society far exceed the disadvantages. Therefore it is better to endure their injuries with patience, and to apply oneself to such measures as promote harmony and friendship.

1 5 . Conduct that brings about harmony is that which is related to justice, eq­ uity, and honorable dealing. For apart from resenting injustice and unfairness, men also resent what is held to be base, or contempt for the accepted customs of the state. But for winning their love the most important factors are those that are concerned with rel igion and piety, for which see Schs . l and 2 , Pro 37, and Sch . Pr. 46 and Sch. Pr. 73 , IV

1 6. Harmony is also commonly produced by fear, but then it is untrustworthy. Furthermore, fear arises from weakness of spirit, and therefore does not belong to the use of reason. Neither does pity, although it bears the appearance of piety.

1 7. Again, men are won over by generosity, especially those who do not have the wherewithal to produce what is necessary to support l ife. Yet it is far beyond the power and resources of a private person to come to the assistance of everyone in need. For the wealth of a private person is quite unequal to such a demand. It is also a practical impossibil ity for one man to establish friendship with all. There­ fore the care of the poor devolves upon society as a whole, and looks only to the common good.

1 8. The care to be taken in accepting favors and in returning them must be of quite a different kind, for which see Sch. Pr. 70 and Sch. Pr. 7 1 , IV

19 . Furthermore, love of a mistress, that is, sexual lust that arises from physi­ cal beauty, and in general all love that acknowledges any other cause than free­ dom of the spirit, easily passes in hatred unless (and this is worse) it be a kind of madness, and then it is fostered by discord rather than harmony.

20. As for marriage, i t is certa in that th is is in agreement with reason if the de­ s ire for intercourse be engendered not s imply by physical beauty but also by love of begetting children and rearing them wisely, and if, in addition, the love of both man and woman has for its cause not merely physical beauty but especially free­ dom of the spirit.

2 1 . Flattery, too, produces harmony, but at the cost of base servility, or through perfidy. None are more taken in by flattery than the proud, who want to be fore­ most, but are not.

22. In self-abasement there is a false appearance of piety and rel igion. And al­ though self-abasement is opposed to pride, the self-abased man is closest to the proud man. See Sch. Pro 57, IV

2 3 . Shame, too, contributes to harmony, but only in matters that cannot be concealed. Again, since shame is species of pain, it does not concern the use of reason.

24. The other painful emotions toward men are directly opposed to justice, equity, honor, piety, and rel igion; and although indignation seems to bear an out-

Part lV, Appendix 361

ward show of equity, it is a lawless state of society where each is permitted to pass judgment on another's deeds and assert h is own or another's right.

2 5 . Courtesy, that is, the desire to please men as determined by reason, is re­ lated to piety (as we have said in Sch. I, Pr. 37, IV). But if it arises from emotion , it is ambition, or the desire whereby under a false cover of piety men generally stir up discord and quarrelling. For he who desires to help others by word or deed to enjoy the highest good along with h im, will strive above all to win their love, but not to evoke their admiration so that some system of philosophy may be named after him, nor to afford any cause whatsoever for envy. Again, in ordinary conver­ sation he will beware of talking about the vices of mankind and will take care to speak only sparingly of human weakness, but will dwell on human virtue, or power, and the means to perfect it, so that men may thus endeavor as far as they can to l ive in accordance with reason's behest, not from fear or dislike, but moti­ vated only by the emotion of pleasure.

26. Except for mankind, we know of no individual th ing in Nature in whose mind we can rejoice, and with which we can unite in friendship or some kind of close tie. So whatever there is in Nature extemal to man, regard for our own ad­ vantage does not require us to preserve it, but teaches us to preserve or destroy it according to its varying usefulness, or to adapt it to our own use in whatever way we please.

27. The advantage that we get from things extemal to us, apart from the ex­ perience and knowledge we gain from observing them and changing them from one form to another, is especially the preservation of the body, and in th is respect those things above all are advantageous which can so feed and nourish the body that all its parts can efficiently perform their function. For as the body is more ca­ pable of being affected in many ways and of affecting extemal bodies in many ways, so the mind is more capable of th inking (see Prs. 38 and 39, IV). But there appear to be few things of this kind in Nature; wherefore to nourish the body as i t should be one must use many foods of different kinds. For the human body is composed of numerous parts of different natures, which need a continual supply offood of various sorts so that the whole body is equally capable of all that can fol­ low from its nature, and consequently that the mind too is equally capable of con­ ceiving many things.

28. Now to provide all this the strength of each single person would scarcely suffice if men did not lend mutual aid to one another. However, money has sup­ plied a token for all things, with the result that its image is wont to obsess the minds of the populace, because they can scarcely th ink of any kind of pleasure that is not accompanied by the idea of money as its cause.

29. But this vice is characteristic only of those who seek money not through poverty nor to meet their necessities, but because they have acquired the art of money-making, whereby they raise themselves to a splendid estate. They feed the body from habit, but thriftily, because they believe that what they spend on pre­ serving the body is lost to their goods. But those who know the true use of money set the l imit of their wealth solely according to their needs, and live content with l ittle.

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30 . Since those things are good which assist the parts of the body to perform their function, and pleasure consists in this, that a man's power is assisted or in­ creased insofar as he is composed of mind and body, all those things that bring pleasure are good. On the other hand, since things do not act with the object of affecting us with pleasure, and their power of acting is not adjusted to su it our needs, and, lastly, since pleasure is usually related to one part of the body in par­ ticular, the emotions of pleasure (unless one exercises reason and care). and con­ sequently the desires that are generated from them, can be excessive. There is this further point, that from emotion we place prime importance on what is attractive in the present, and we cannot feel as strongly about the future. See Sch. Pr. 44 and Sch. Pr. 60, IV.

3 1 . But superstition on the other hand seems to assert that what brings pain is good and what brings pleasure is bad. But, as we have already said (Sch. Pro 45 , IV) , nobody but the envious takes pleasure in my weakness and my misfortune. For the more we are affected with pleasure, the more we pass to a state of greater perfection, and consequently the more we participate in the divine nature. Nor can pleasure ever be evil when it is controlled by true regard for our advantage. Now he who on the other hand is guided by fear and does good in order to avoid evil is not gUided by reason.

32 . But human power is very l imited and is infinitely surpassed by the power of external causes, and so we do not have absolute power to adapt to our purposes things external to us. However, we shall patiently bear whatever happens to us that is contrary to what is required by consideration of our own advan tage, if we are conscious that we have done our duty and that our power was not extensive enough for us to have avoided the said things, and that we are a part of the whole of Nature whose order we follow. If we clearly and distinctly understand this, that part of us which is defined by the understanding, that is, the better part of us, will be fully resigned and will endeavor to persevere in that resignation. For insofar as we understand, we can desire nothing but that which must be, nor, in an absolute sense, can we find contentment in anything but truth. And so insofar as we rightly understand these matters, the endeavor of the better part of us is in harmony with the order of the whole of Nature.

Part V, Preface 363

PART V

OF THE POWER OF THE INTELLECT, OR OF HUMAN FREEDOM

PREFACE

I pass on finally to that part of the Ethics which concerns the method or way lead­ ing to freedom. In this part, then, I shall be deal ing with the power of reason , pointing out the degree of control reason has over the emotions, and then what is freedom of mind, or blessedness, from which we shall see how much to be pre­ ferred is the life of the wise man to the l ife of the ignorant man. Now we are not concerned here with the manner or way in which the intellect should be per­ fected, nor yet with the science of tending the body so that it may correctly per­ form its functions. The latter is the province of medicine, the former oflogic. Here then, as I have said, I shall be deal ing only with the power of the mind or reason. Above ali I shall be showing the degree and nature of its command over the emo­ tions in checking and controll ing them. For I have already demonstrated that we do not have absolute command over them.

Now the Stoics thought that the emotions depend absolutely on our will, and that we can have absolute command over them. However, with experience crying out against them they were obliged against their principles to admit that no l i ttle practice and zeal are required in order to check and control emotions. One of them tried to illustrate this point with the example of two dogs, if [ remember correctly, one a house dog, and the other a hunting dog; in the end he succeeded in train­ ing the house dog to hunt and the hunting dog to refra in from chasing hares.

This view is much favored by Descartes. He maintained that the soul or mind is united in a special way with a certa in part of the bra in called the pineal gland, by means of which the mind senses all movements that occur in the body, as well as external objects, and by the mere act of willing i t can move the gland in vari­ ous ways. He maintained that this gland is suspended in the middle of the brain in such a way that it can be moved by the slightest motion of the animal spirits . He further maintained that the number of different ways in which the gland can be suspended in the middle of the brain corresponds with the number of differ­ ent ways in which the animal spirits can impinge upon i t, and that, furthermore, as many different marks can be imprinted on the gland as there are external ob­ jects impelling the animal spirits toward it. As a resul� ifby the will of the soul , which can move it in various ways, the gland is later suspended in that particular way in wh ich it had previously been suspended by a particular mode of agitation of the spirits, then the gland will impel and determine the animal spirits in the

364 Ethics

same way as they had previously been acted upon by a similar mode of suspen­ sion of the gland. He furthermore mainta ined that every single act of will ing is by nature united to a particular motion of the gland. For example, if anyone wills to gaze at a distant object, th is act of willing will bring about the dilation of the pupil. But ifhe thinks only of dilating the pupil, i t will be useless for him to will th is, be­ cause the motion of the gland which serves to impel the spirits toward the optic nerve in a manner that will bring about dilation or contraction of the pupil has not been joined by nature to the act of willing its contraction or dilation, but only to the act of willing to gaze at distant or near objects. Finally, he mainta ined that although each motion of this gland seems to have been connected through na­ ture from the beginning of our lives to particular thoughts, these motions can be joined to other thoughts through training, and this he endeavors to prove in Arti­ cle 50, Part I of On the Passions of the Soul. From this he concludes that there is no soul so weak that it cannot, through good gUidance, acquire absolute power over its passions. For these passions are defined by him as "perceptions, or feel­ ings, or disturbances of the soul, wh ich are related to the soul as species, and which are produced (note well ! ) , preserved and strengthened through some mo­ tion of the spirits." (See Article 27, Part I , On the Passions of the Soul. ) But as we are able to join any motion of the gland, and consequently of the spiri ts, to any act of willing, and as the determination of the will depends only on our own power, if therefore we determine our will by the sure and firm decisions in ac­ cordance with which we want to direct the actions of our l ives, and if to these de­ cisions we join the movements of the passions wh ich we want to have, we shall acquire absolute command over our passions.

Such is the view of this illustrious person (as far as I can gather from h is own words), a view which I could scarcely have believed to have been put forward by such a great man, had it been less ingenious. Indeed, I am lost in wonder that a philosopher who had strictly resolved to deduce nothing except from self-evident bases and to affirm noth ing that he did not clearly and distinctly perceive, who had so often censured the Scholastics for seeking to explain obscurities through occult qual i ties, should adopt a theory more occult than any occult quality. What, I ask, does he understand by the union of mind and body? What clear and distinct conception does he have of thought closely united to a certain particle of matter? I should have l iked him, indeed, to explain this union through its proximate cause. But he had conceived mind as so distinct from body that he could assign no one cause either of this union or of mind itself, and found i t necessary to have recourse to the cause of the entire universe, that is, God. Again, I should l ike to know how many degrees of motion mind can impart to that pineal gland of h is, and by what force it can hold it suspended. For I know not whether this gland can be moved about more slowly or more quickly by the mind than by animal spirits, and whether the movements ofthe passions which we have joined in a close union with firm decisions cannot aga in be separated from those decisions by corporeal causes, from which i t would follow that, although the mind firmly decides to face danger and joins to that decision the motions of boldness, when the danger ap-

Part V, Proposition 2 365

pears, the gland may assume such a form of suspension that the mind can think only of flight. And surely, since will and motion have no common standard, there cannot be any comparison between the power or strength of the mind and body, and consequently the strength of the latter cannot possibly be determined by the strength of the former. There is the additional fact that th is gland is not to be found located in the middle of the brain in such a way that i t can be driven about so eas­ ily and in so many ways, nor do all nerves extend as far as the cavities of the brain.

Finally, [ omit all Descartes's assertions about the will and its freedom, since [ have already abundantly demonstrated that they are fulse. Therefore, since the power of the mind is defined solely by the understanding, as [ have demonstrated above, we shall determine solely by the knowledge of the mind the remedies for the emotions- remedies which [ believe all men experience but do not accurately observe nor distinctly see-and from this knowledge we shall deduce all that con­ cerns the blessedness of the mind.

Axi oms

I . [f two contrary actions are instigated in the same subject, a change must nec­ essarily take place in both or in the one of them until they cease to be contrary.

2 . The power of an effect is defined by the power of the cause insofur as its essence is explicated or defined through the essence of its cause.

This Axiom is evident from Pr. 7 , III .

PROPOSITION 1 The affections of the body, that is the images of things, are arranged and connected in the body in exactly the same way as thoughts and the ideas of things are arranged and connected in the mind. Proof The order and connection of ideas is the same (Pr. 7, II) as the order and connection of things, and, vice versa, the order and connection of things is the same (Cor. Pr. 6 and Pr. 7, II) as the order and connection of ideas. Therefore, j ust as the order and connection of ideas in the mind occurs in accordance with the order and connection of the affections of the body (Pr. 1 8, II) , so, vice versa (Pr. 2 , III), the order and connection of the affections of the body occurs in just the way that thoughts and the ideas of things are arranged and connected in the mind.

PROPOSITION 2 If we remove an agitation of the mind, or emotion, from the thought of its external cause, and ;oin it to other thoughts, then love or hatred toward the external cause, and also vacillations, that arise from these emotions will be destroyed.

Proof That which constitutes the form of love or hatred is pleasure or pain ac­ companied by the idea of an external cause (Def. of Emotions 6 and 7). So when the latter is removed, the form oflove or hatred is removed with i t, and thus these emotions, and those that arise from them, are destroyed.

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PROPOSITION 3 A passive emotion ceases to be a passive emotion as soon as we form a clear and dis­ tinct idea of it.

Proof A passive emotion is a confused idea (Gen. Def. of Emotions). So if we form a clear and distinct idea of the emotion, this idea is distinguishable only in concept from the emotion insofar as the latter is related only to mind (Pr. 2 1 , I I and Sch. ) ; and so the emotion will cease to be passive (Pr. 3 , Ill) .

Corollary So the more an emotion is known to us, the more it is within our con­ trol, and the mind is the less passive in respect of it.

PROPOSITION 4 There is no affection of the body of which we cannot form a clear and distinct con­ ception.

Proof What is common to all thing. can only be conceived adequately (Pr. 38, II) , and thus (Pr. 12 and Lemma 2 which comes after Sch. Pr. 1 3, II) there is no affection of the body of which we cannot form a clear and distinct conception.

Corollary Hence it follows that there is no emotion of which we cannot form a clear and distinct conception. For an emotion is the idea of an affection of the body (Gen. Def. of Emotions). which must therefore involve some clear and dis­ tinct conception (preceding Pr. ) .

Scholium Since there exists nothing from which some effect does not follow (Pr. 36, I), and all that follows from an idea that is adequate in us is understood by us clearly and distinctly (Pr. 40, II), it therefore follows that everyone has the power of clearly and distinctly understanding himself and his emotions, if not ab­ solutely, at least in part, and consequently of bringing it about that he should be less passive in respect of them. So we should pay particular attention to getting to know each emotion, as far as possible, clearly and distinctly, so that the mind may thus be determined from the emotion to th ink those things that it clearly and dis­ tinctly perceives, and in which it finds full contentment. Thus the emotion may be detached from the thought of an external cause and joined to true thoughts. The result will be that not only are love, hatred, etc. destroyed (Pr. 2, V) but also that the appetites or desires that are wont to arise from such an emotion cannot be excessive (Pr. 6 1 , IV). For it is very important to note that it is one and the same appetite through wh ich a man is said both to be active and to be passive. For ex­ ample, we have shown that human nature is so constituted that everyone wants others to l ive according to h is way of th inking (Cor. Pr. 3 1 , III). Now this appetite in a man who is not guided by reason is a passive emotion which is called ambi­ tion, and differs to no great extent from pride. But in a man who lives according to the dictates of reason it is an active emotion, or virtue, which is called piety (Sch. I, Pro 37, IV and second proof of that same Proposition). In this way all ap­ petites or desires are passive emotions only insofar as they arise from inadequate ideas, and they are accredited to virtue when they are aroused or generated by ad-

Part V, Proposition 7 367

equate ideas. For all desires whereby we are determined to some action can arise both from adequate and from inadequate ideas (Pr. 59, IV) . To return to the point from which I digressed, there is available to us no more excellent remedy for the emotions than that which consists in a true knowledge of them, since there is no other power of the mind than the power of thought and of[orming adequate ideas, as I have shown above (Pr. 3 , III) .

PROPOSITION 5 An emotion toward a thing which we imagine merely in itself, and not as necessary, possible, or contingent, is the greatest of all emotions, other things being equal.

Proof An emotion toward a thing that we imagine to be free is greater than an emotion toward a necessary th ing (Pr. 49, III) , and consequently still greater than an emotion toward a th ing that we imagine to be possible or contingent (Pr. I I , IV). But to imagine something as free can be nothing else than to imagine it merely in itself, while we are ignorant of the causes by which it has been deter­ mined to act (Sch. Pro 3 5 , II) . Therefore, an emotion toward a thing that we imag­ ine merely in itself is greater, other things being equal , than an emotion toward a necessary, possible, or contingent th ing, and consequently it is the greatest of all emotions.

PROPOSITION 6 Insofar as the mind understands all things as gavemed by necessity, to that extent it has greater power over emotions, i.e. it is less passive in respect of them.

Proof The mind understands all things to be governed by necessity (Pr. 29, I) and to be determined to exist and to act by an infinite chain of causes (Pr. 28, I) . And so (preceding Pr.) to that extent the mind succeeds in becoming less passive to the emotions that arise from things, and (Pr. 48, III) less affected toward the things themselves.

Scholium The more this knowledge (namely, that things are governed by ne­ cessity) is applied to particular things which we imagine more distinctly and more vividly, the greater is th is power of the mind over the emotions, as is testified by experience. For we see that pa in over the loss of some good is assuaged as soon as the man who has lost it realizes that that good could not have been saved in any way. Similarly, we see that nobody pities a baby because it cannot talk or walk or reason , and because it spends many years in a kind of ignorance of self. But if most people were born adults and only a few were born babies, then everybody would feel sorry for babies because they would then look on infancy not as a natural and necessary thing but as a fault or flaw in Nature. There are many other examples of this kind that we might note.

PROPOSITION 7 Emotions which arise or originate from reason are, if we take account of time, more powerful than those that are related to particular things which we regard as absent.

368 Ethics

Proof We do not look on a thing as absent by reason of the emotion with which we think of it, but by reason of the body being affected by another emotion which excludes the existence of the sa id th ing (Pr. 17, II). Therefore, the emotion that is related to a thing that we regard as absent is not of a kind to overcome the rest of man's activities and power (see Pro 6, IV). On the contrary, its nature is such that it can be checked in some way by those affections which exclude the existence of its external cause (Pr. 9, IV). But an emotion that arises from reason is necessarily related to the common properties of things (see Def. of Reason in Sch. 2, Pr. 40, II) which we regard as being always present (for there can be nothing that excludes their present existence) and which we always th ink of in the same way (Pr. 38, II) . Therefore, such an emotion always remains the same. Consequently (Ax. I, V), emotions which are contrary to it and are not fostered by their external causes must adapt themselves to it more and more until they are no longer contrary; and to that extent an emotion that arises from reason is more powerful.

PROPOSITION 8 The greater the number of causes that simultaneously concur in arousing an emo­ tion, the greater the emotion. Proof Several causes acting together are more effective than if they were fewer (Pr. 7, III) . So (Pr. 5, IV) the more simultaneous causes there are in arousing an emotion, the stronger will be the emotion.

Scholium This Proposition is also obvious from Ax. 2 , V.

PROPOSITION 9 An emotion that is related to several different causes, which the mind regards to­ gether with the emotion itself, is less harmful, and we suffer less {rom it and are less affected toward each individual cause, than if we were affected by another equally great emotion which is related to only one or to a few causes. Proof An emotion is bad or harmful only insofar as the mind is thereby h indered from being able to th ink (Pr. 26 and 27, IV). Thus, an emotion whereby the mind is determined to regard several objects simultaneously is less harmful than an­ other equally great emotion which so keeps the mind in the contemplation of only one or few objects that it cannot th ink of anything else. This is the first point. Again, because the essence of the mind, that is (Pr. 7, III), its power, consists only in thought (Pr. I I , II), it follows that the mind is less passive through an emotion by which it is determined to regard several things all together than through an equally great emotion which keeps the mind engrossed in the contemplation of only one or few objects. This is the second point. Finally, this emotion (Pr. 48, III), insofar as it is related to several external causes, is also less toward each cause.

PROPOSITION 1 0 As long as we are not assailed by emotions that are contrary to our nature, we have the power to arrange and associate affections of the body according to the order of the intellect.

Part V, Proposition 10 369

Proof Emotions that are contrary to our nature, that is (Pr. 30, IV), which are bad, are bad to the extent that they hinder the mind from understanding (Pr. 27, IV). Therefore, as long as we are not assailed by emotions contrary to our nature, the power of the mind whereby it endeavors to understand things (Pr. 26, IV) is not h indered, and thus it has the ability to form clear and distinct ideas, deduc­ ing them from one another (Sch. 2, Pr. 40 and Sch. Pro 47, II) . Consequently (Pr. I, V), in th is case we have the abil ity to arrange and associate affections of the body according to the order of the intellect.

Scholium Through the abil ity to arrange and associate rightly the affections of the body we can bring it about that we are not easily affected by bad emotions. For (Pr. 7, V) greater force is required to check emotions arranged and associated according to intellectual order than emotions that are uncerta in and random. Therefore the best course we can adopt, as long as we do not have perfect knowl­ edge of our emotions, is to conceive a right method ofl iving, or fixed rules ofl ife, and to commit them to memory and continually apply them to particular situa­ tions that are frequently encountered in l ife, so that our casual th inking is thor­ oughly permeated by them and they are always ready to hand. For example, among our practical rules, we laid down (Pr. 46, IV and Sch.) that hatred should be conquered by love or nobil ity, and not repaid with reciprocal hatred. Now in order that we may have this precept of reason always ready to hand we should think about and frequently reflect on the wrongs that are commonly committed among mankind, and the best way and method of warding them offby nobil ity of character. For thus we shall associate the image of a wrong with the presentation of this rule of conduct, and it will always be at hand for us (Pr. 1 8, II) when we suffer a wrong. Again, if we always have in readiness consideration of our true ad­ vantage and also of the good that follows from mutual friendship and social rela­ tions, and also remember that supreme contentment of spirit follows from the right way of l ife (Pr. 52 , IV), and that men, l ike everyth ing else, act from the ne­ cessity of their nature, then the wrong, or the hatred that is wont to arise from it, will occupy just a small part of our imagination and will easily be overcome. Or if the anger that is wont to arise from grievous wrongs be not easily overcome, it will nevertheless be overcome, though not without vacillation, in a far shorter space of time than if we had not previously reflected on these things in the way I have described, as is evident from Prs. 6, 7, and 8, V. We ought, in the same way, to reflect on courage to banish fear; we should enumerate and often picture the everyday dangers of l ife, and how they can best be avoided and overcome by re­ sourcefulness and strength of mind.

But i t should be noted that in arranging our thoughts and images we should always concentrate on that which is good in every single thing (Cor. Pro 63, IV and Pro 59, III) so that in so doing we may be determined to act always from the emotion of pleasure. For example, if anyone sees that he is devoted overmuch to the pursuit of honor, let him reflect on its proper function, and the purpose for which it ought to be pursued, and the means by which it can be attained, and not on its abuse and hollowness and the fickleness of mankind and the l ike, on

370 Ethics

which nobody reflects except from a morbid disposition. It is by thoughts l ike these that the most ambitious especially torment themselves when they despair of attaining the honor that they covet, and in vomiting forth their anger they try to make some show of wisdom. It is therefore certain that those who raise the loudest outcry about the abuse of honor and about worldly vanity are most eager for honor. Nor is this tra it confined to the ambitious: it is shared by all who meet with adverse fortune and are weak in spirit. For the miser, too, who is in poverty, does not cease to talk of the abuse of money and the vices of the rich, with the resul t that he merely torments h imself and makes it clear that he resents not only h is own poverty but also the wealth of others. So, too, those who have been ill­ received by a sweetheart are obsessed by thoughts of the fickleness and deceit­ fulness of women and the other faults commonly attributed to them, but immediately forget about all th is as soon as they again find favor with their sweet­ heart. Therefore, he who aims solely from love of freedom to control h is emo­ tions and appetites will strive his best to famil iarize h imself with virtues and their causes and to fill his mind with the joy that arises from the true knowledge of them, while refra ining from dwell ing on men's faults and abusing mankind and deriving pleasure from a false show of freedom. He who dil igently follows these precepts and practices them (for they are not difficult) will surely within a short space of time be able to direct h is actions for the most part according to reason's behest.

PROPOSITION 1 1 In proportion as a mental image is related to more things, the more frequently does it occur- i.e. the more often it springs to life- and the more it engages the mind.

Proof In proportion as an image or emotion is related to more things, the more causes there are by which it can be aroused and fostered, all of which the mind, by hypothesis, regards simultaneously as a result of the emotion. And so the emo­ tion thereby occurs more frequently- i .e. springs to l ife more often-and engages the mind the more (Pr. 8, V) .

PROPOSITION 1 2 Images are more readily associated with those images that a re related to things which we clearly and distinctly understand than they are to others.

Proof Things that are clearly and distinctly understood are either the common properties of things or deductions made from them (see Def. of Reason in Sch. 2, Pr. 40, II) and consequently they are more often before the mind (preceding Pr. ) . So it is more l ikely that we should regard other things in conjunction with these than in conjunction with different things, and consequently (Pr. 1 8 , II) that they should more readily be associated with these than with others.

PROPOSITION 1 3 The greater the number of other images with which an image is associated, the more often it springs to life.

Part V, Proposition 18 371

Proof The greater the number of images with which an image is associated, the more causes there are by which it can be aroused (Pr. 1 8, II) .

PROPOSITION 14 The mind can bring it about that all the affections of the body-i.e. images of things- be related to the idea of God.

Proof There is no affection of the body of which the mind cannot form a clear and distinct conception (Pr. 4, V) , and so the mind can bring i t about (Pr. 1 5 , I) that they should all be related to the idea of God.

PROPOSITION 1 5 He who clearly and distinctly understands himself and his emotions loves God, and the more so the more he understands himself and his emotions.

Proof He who clearly and distinctly understands himself and his emotions feels pleasure (Pr. 5 3 , III) accompanied by the idea of God (preceding Pr. ). So (Def. of Emotions 6) he loves God, and, by the same reasoning, the more so the more he understands h imself and h is emotions.

PROPOSITION 1 6 This love toward God is bound to hold chief place in the mind.

Proof This love is associated with all the affections of the body (Pr. 1 4, V) , and is fostered by them all (Pr. 1 5 , V), and so (Pr. I I , V) it is bound to hold chief place in the mind.

PROPOSITION 1 7 God is without passive emotions, and he is not affected with any emotion of pleas­ ure or pain.

Proof All ideas, insofar as they are related to God, are true (Pr. 32, III) , that is (Def. 4, II), they are adequate. Thus (Gen. Def. of Emotions) , God is without pas­ sive emotions. Again, God cannot pass to a state of greater or less perfection (Cor. 2 , Pro 20, I), and so (Def. of Emotions 2 and 3) he is not affected with any emo­ tion of pleasure or pain.

Corollary Strictly speaking, God does not love or hate anyone. For God (pre­ ceding Pr.) is not affected with any emotion of pleasure or pain, and consequently (Def. of Emotions 6 and 7) he neither loves nor hates anyone.

PROPOSITION 1 8 Nobody can hate God.

Proof The idea of God which is in us is adequate and perfect (Prs. 46 and 47, II). Therefore, insofar as we contemplate God, we are active (Pr. 3, III). Conse­ quently (Pr. 59, III), there can be no pain accompanied by the idea of God; that is (Def. of Emotions 7), nobody can hate God.

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Corollary Love toward God cannot tum to hatred .

Scholium It may be objected that in understanding God to be the cause of all things we thereby consider God to be the cause of pain. To this I reply that inso­ far as we understand the causes of pain, i t ceases to be a passive emotion (Pr. 3 , V) ; that i s (Pr. 59, III), to that extent it ceases to be pain. So insofar as we under­ stand God to be the cause of pain, to that extent we feel pleasure.

PROPOSITION 1 9 He who loves God cannot endeavor that God should love him i n return.

Proof If a man were so to endeavor, he would therefore desire (Cor. Pr. 1 7 , V) that God whom he loves should not be God, and consequently (Pr. 19 , III) he would desire to feel pain, which is absurd (Pr. 28, III). Therefore he who loves God . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 20 This love toward God cannot be tainted with emotions of envy or jealousy, but is the more fostered as we think more men to be joined to God by this same bond of love.

Proof This love toward God is the highest good that we can aim at according to the dictates of reason (Pr. 28, IV) and is available to all men (Pr. 36, IV) , and we desire that all men should enjoy it (Pr. 37, IV). Therefore (Def. of Emotions 23) , i t cannot be stained by the emotion of envy, nor again by the emotion of j ealousy (Pr. 1 8, V and Def. of Jealousy, q.v. in Sch. Pr. 36, III). On the contrary (Pr. 3 1 , III), i t is the more fostered as we think more men to be enjoying i t.

Scholium We can in the same way demonstrate that there is no emotion directly contrary to th is love by which th is love can be destroyed; and so we may conclude that this love toward God is the most constant of all emotions, and insofar as i t is related to the body it cannot be destroyed except together with the body. As to its nature insofar as it is related solely to the mind, th is we shall examine later on.

With this I have completed the account of all the remedies for the emotions: that is, all that the mind, considered solely in itself, can do against the emotions. From this it is clear that the power of the mind over the emotions consists:

I . In the very knowledge of the emotions (Sch. Pro 4, V). 2 . In detaching the emotions from the thought of their external cause, which

we imagine confusedly. (See Pro 2 together with Sch. Pro 4, V,) 3. In the matter of time, in respect of which the affections that are related to

things we understand are superior to those which are related to things that we con­ ceive in a confused or fragmentary way (Pr. 7 , V) .

4. In the number of causes whereby those affections are fostered which are re­ lated to the common properties of things, or to God (Prs. 9 and I I , V).

5 . Lastly, in the order wherein the mind can arrange its emotions and associ­ ate them one with another (Sch. Pro 10 and also Prs. 1 2 , 1 3, 1 4, V) . But in order that this power of the mind over the emotions may be better under­ stood, it is important to note that we call emotions strong when we compare the

Part V, Proposition 2 1 373

emotion of one man with that of another, and when we see one man more than another assailed by the same emotion , or when we compare with one another the emotions of the same man and find that the same man is affected or moved by one emotion more than by another. For (Pr. 5, IV) the strength of every emotion is defined by the power of an external cause as compared with our own power. Now the power of the mind is defined solely by knowledge, its weakness or pas­ s ivity solely by the privation of knowledge; that is, it is measured by the extent to which its ideas are said to be inadequate. Hence it follows that that mind is most passive whose greatest part is constituted by inadequate ideas, so that i t is charac­ terized more by passivity than by activity. On the other hand, that mind is most active whose greatest part is constituted by adequate ideas, so that even if the lat­ ter mind contains as many inadequate ideas as the former, it is characterized by those ideas which are attributed to human virtue rather than by those that point to human weakness.

Again, it should be noted that emotional distress and unhappiness have their origin especially in excessive love toward a th ing subject to considerable instabil­ ity, a th ing which we can never completely possess. For nobody is disturbed or anxious about any thing unless he loves it, nor do wrongs, suspicions, enmities, etc. arise except from love toward things which nobody can truly possess.

So from this we readily conceive how effective against the emotions is clear and distinct knowledge, and especially the th ird kind of knowledge (for which see Sch . Pro 47, II) whose basis is the knowledge of God. Insofar as they are passive emotions, if it does not completely destroy them (Pr. 3, and Sch. Pro 4, V), at least i t brings it about that they constitute the least part of the mind (Pr. 14, V). Again, i t begets love toward something immutable and eternal (Pr. 1 5 , V) wh ich we can truly possess (Pr. 45 , II), and which therefore cannot be defiled by any ofthe faults that are to be found in the common sort of love, but can continue to grow more and more (Pr. 1 5 , V) and engage the greatest part of the mind (Pr. 1 6, V) and per­ vade it.

And now I have completed all that concerns this present l ife; for, as I said at the beginning of th is Schol ium, in this brief account I have covered all the remedies against the emotions. This everyone can see who gives h is mind to the contents of th is Schol ium, and l ikewise to the definitions of the mind and i ts emotions, and lastly to Props. I and 3, III . So it is now time to pass on to those matters that concern the duration of the mind w ithout respect to the body.

PROPOSITION 2 1 The mind can exercise neither imagination normemory save while the body endures.

Proof It is only while the body endures that the mind expresses the actual exis­ tence of its body and conceives the affections of the body as actual (Cor. Pr. 8, II) . Consequently (Pr. 26, II) , it does not conceive any body as actually existing save while its own body endures. Therefore (see Def. of Imagination in Sch. Pro 1 7 , II) , i t cannot exercise either imagination o r memory save while the body endures (see Def. of Memory in Sch. Pr. 1 8, II) .

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PROPOSITION 22 Nevertheless, there i s necessarily in God an idea which expresses the essence of this or that human body under a form of eternity [sub specie aeternitatis}.

Proof God is the cause not only of the existence of this or that human body but also of its essence (Pr. 2 5 , I), which must therefore necessarily be received through God's essence (Ax. 4, I) by a certa in eternal necessity (Pr. 16 , I), and this concep­ tion must necessarily be in God (Pr. 3 , II).

PROPOSITION 2 3 The human mind cannot be absolutely destroyed along with body, but something of it remains, which is eternal.

Proof In God there is necessarily a conception, or idea, which expresses the essence of the human body (preceding Pr. ) and which therefore is necessarily something that pertains to the essence of the human mind (Pr. 1 3 , II). But we as­ sign to the human mind the kind of duration that can be defined by time only in­ sofar as the mind expresses the actual existence of the body, an existence that is explicated through duration and can be defined by time. That is, we do not as­ sign duration to the mind except while the body endures (Cor. Pro 8, II) . How­ ever, since that wh ich is conceived by a certain eternal necessity through God's essence is nevertheless a something (preceding Pr. ) ' th is something, which per­ tains to the essence of mind, will necessarily be eternal.

SchoIium As we have said, this idea, which expresses the essence of the body under a form of eternity, is a definite mode of th inking which pertains to the essence of mind, and which is necessarily eternal. Yet i t is impossible that we should remember that we existed before the body, since neither can there be any traces of th is in the body nor can eternity be defined by time, or be in any way related to time. Nevertheless, we feel and experience that we are eternal . For the mind senses those th ings that it conceives by its understanding just as much as those which it has in its memory. Logical proofS are the eyes of the mind, whereby it sees and observes th ings. So although we have no recollection ofhav­ ing existed before the body, we nevertheless sense that our mind, insofar as it in­ volves the essence of the body under a form of eternity, is eternal, and that th is aspect of its existence cannot be defined by time, that is, cannot be explicated through duration . Therefore, our mind can be said to endure, and its existence to be defined by a definite period of time, only to the extent that i t involves the actual existence of the body, and it is only to that extent that it has the power to determine the existence of things by time and to conceive them from the point of view of duration.

PROPOSITION 24 The more we understand particular things, the more we understand God.

Proof This is evident from Cor. Pr. 2 5 , I.

Part V, Proposition 28 375

PROPOSITION 25 The highest conatus of the mind and its highest virtue is to understand things by the third kind of knowledge.

Proof The third kind of knowledge proceeds from the adequate idea of certain of God's attributes to the adequate knowledge of the essence of thing. (see its def­ inition in Sch. 2, Pro 40, II) , and the more we understand thing. in this way, the more we understand God (preceding Pr. ) . Therefore (Pr. 28, IV), the highest virtue of the mind, that is (Def. 8, IV), its power or nature, or its h ighest conatus (Pr. 7 , III) , is to understand things by th is th ird kind of knowledge.

PROPOSITION 26 The more capable the mind is of understanding things by the third kind of knowl­ edge, the more it desires to understand things by this same kind of knowledge.

Proof This is evident; for insofar as we conceive the mind to be capable of un­ derstanding thing. by the third kind of knowledge, to that extent we conceive it as determined to understand things by that same kind of knowledge. Conse­ quently (Def. of Emotions I ) , the more the mind is capable of th is, the more it desires it.

PROPOSITION 27 From this third kind of knowledge there arises the highest possible contentment of mind.

Proof The h ighest virtue of the mind is to know God (Pr. 28, IV) , that is, to un­ derstand thing. by the third kind of knowledge (Pr. 2 5 , V), and this virtue is all the greater the more the mind knows thing. by the third kind of knowledge (Pr. 24, V). So he who knows thing. by this th ird kind of knowledge passes to the high­ est state of human perfection , and consequently (Def. of Emotions 2) is affected by the highest pleasure, th is pleasure being accompanied (Pr. 43 , II) by the idea of himself and his own virtue. Therefore (Def. of Emotions 25 ) , from this kind of knowledge there arises the h ighest possible contenbnent.

PROPOSITION 28 The conatus, or desire, to know things by the third kind of knowledge cannot arise from the first kind of knowledge, but from the second.

Proof This proposition is self-evident. For whatever we understand clearly and distinctly, we understand either through itself or through something else which is conceived through itself. That is, ideas which are clear and distinct in us or which are related to the third kind of knowledge (Sch. 2 , Pro 40, II) cannot follow from fragmentary or confused ideas wh ich (same Sch.) are related to the first kind of knowledge, but from adequate ideas, that is (same Sch.) , from the second or th ird kind of knowledge. Therefore (Def. of Emotions I ) , the desire to know things by the third kind of knowledge cannot arise from the first kind of knowledge, but from the second.

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PROPOSITION 29 Whatever the mind understands under a form of eternity it does not understand from the fact that it conceives the present actual existence of the body, but from the fact that it conceives the essence of the body under a form of eternity.

Proof Insofar as the mind conceives the present existence of its body, to that ex­ tent it conceives a duration that can be determined by time, and only to that ex­ tent does it have the power to conceive things in relation to time (Pr. 2 1 , V and Pr. 26, II) . But eternity cannot be explicated through duration (Def. 8, I and its explication). Therefore, to that extent the mind does not have the power to con­ ceive things under a form of eternity. But since it is the nature of reason to con­ ceive things under a forrn of eternity (Cor. 2 , Pr. 44, II), and since it belongs to the nature of mind, too, to conceive the essence of the body under a forrn of eter­ nity (Pr. 23 , V), and since there belongs to the essence of mind nothing but these two ways of conceiving (Pr. 1 3 , II), it follows that this power to conceive things under a form of eternity perta ins to the mind only insofar as it conceives the essence of the body under a form of eternity.

Scholium We conceive things as actual in two ways: either insofar as we con­ ceive them as related to a fixed time and place, or insofar as we conceive them to be conta ined in God and to follow from the necessity of the divine nature. Now the things that are conceived as true or real in this second way, we conceive un­ der a form of eternity, and their ideas involve the eternal and infinite essence of God, as we demonstrated in Pr. 45, II. See also its Schol ium.

PROPOSITION 30 Our mind, insofar as it knows both itself and the body under a form of eternity, nec· essarily has a knowledge of God, and knows that it is in God and is conceived through God.

Proof Eternity is the very essence of God insofar as this essence involves neces­ sary existence (Def. 8, I). Therefore, to conceive things under a form of eternity is to conceive things insofar as they are conceived through God's essence as real enti ties; that is, insofar as they involve existence through God's essence. There­ fore, our mind, insofar as it knows itself and the body under a form of eternity, necessarily has knowledge of God, and knows . . . etc.

PROPOSITION 3 1 The third kind of knowledge depends on the mind as its formal cause insofar as the mind is eternal.

Proof The mind conceives nothing under a form of eternity except insofar as it conceives the essence of its body under a form of eternity (Pr. 29, V) , that is (Prs. 21 and 23, V), except insofar as the mind is eternal. Therefore (preceding Pr. ) , insofar as it is eternal, it has knowledge of God, knowledge wh ich is necessarily adequate (Pr. 46, II). Therefore, the mind, insofar as it is eternal , is capable of

Part V, Proposition 33 377

knowing all the th ings that can follow from th is given knowledge of God (Pr. 40, II) : that is, ofknowing things by the th ird kind of knowledge (see its definition in Sch . 2 , Pr. 40, II) , of which the mind is therefore (Def. I , 1lI) the adequate or for­ mal cause insofar as it is eternal.

Scholium So the more each man is advanced in this kind of knowledge, the more clearly conscious he is of himself and of God, that is, the more perfect and blessed he is, as will become even more evident from what is to follow. But here it should be noted that although we are at this point certa in that the mind is eter­ nal insofar as it conceives things under a form of eternity, yet, to facilitate the ex­ planation and render more readily in telligible what I intend to demonstrate, we shall consider the mind as if i t were now beginning to be and were now beginning to understand things under a form of eternity, as we have been doing up to now. This we may do without any danger of error, provided we are careful to reach no conclusion except from premises that are quite clear.

PROPOSITION 32 We take pleasure in whatever we understand by the third kind of knowledge, and this is accompanied by the idea of God as cause. Proof From this kind of knowledge there arises the highest possible content­ ment ofmind (Pr. 27, V), that is (Def. of Emotions 25 ) , the h ighest possible pleas­ ure, and th is is accompanied by the idea of oneself, and consequently (Pr. 30, V) also by the idea of God, as cause.

Corollary From the th ird kind of knowledge there necessarily arises the intel­ lectual love of God [amor Dei intellectualis] . For from this kind of knowledge there arises (preceding Pr.) pleasure accompanied by the idea of God as cause, that is (Def. of Emotions 6), the love of God not insofar as we imagine him as present (Pr. 29, V) but insofar as we understand God to be eternal. And this is what I call the intellectual love of God.

PROPOSITION 3 3 The intellectual love of God which arises fro m the third kind of knowledge is eter­ nal.

Proof The third kind of knowledge is eternal (Pr. 3 1 , V and Ax. 3 , I), and there­ fore (by the same Ax. 3, I) the love that arises frorn it is also necessarily eternal.

Scholium Although this love toward God has had no beginning (preceding Pr. ) , it yet has a l l the perfections of love just as if i t had originated in the manner we supposed in the Corollary to the preceding Proposition. There is no difference, except that the mind has possessed from eternity those perfections which we then supposed to be accruing to i t, accompanied by the idea of God as eternal cause. If pleasure consists in the transition to a state of greater perfection, blessedness must surely consist in th is, that the mind is endowed with perfection itself.

378 Ethics

PROPOSITION 34 It is only while the body endures that the mind is sub;ect to passive emotions.

Proof Imagining is the idea whereby the mind regards some thing as presen t (see its definition in Sch . Pr. 1 7, II) , an idea which, however, indicates the pres­ ent state of the body rather than the nature of an external th ing (Cor. 2, Pro 1 6, II) . Therefore, an emotion (Gen. Def. of Emotions) is an imagining insofar as it indicates the present state of the body. So (Pr. 2 1 , V) it is only while the body en­ dures that the mind is subject to passive emotions.

Corollary Hence i t follows that no love is eternal except for intellectual love [amor intellectualis] .

Scholium If we turn our attention to the common belief entertained by men , we shall see that they are indeed conscious of the eternity of the mind, but they confuse it with duration and assign it to imagination or to memory, which they believe to continue after death.

PROPOSITION 3 5 God loves himself with an infinite intellectual love.

Proof God is absolutely infinite (Def. 6, I); that is (Def. 6, II) , God's nature en­ joys infinite perfection, accompanied (Pr. 3, II) by the idea of itself, that is (Pr. I I and Def. I , I) , by the idea of its own cause; and that is what, in Cor. Pr. 32 . V, we declared to be intellectual love.

PROPOSITION 36 The mind's intellectual love toward God is the love of God wherewith God loves him­ self not insofar as he is infinite, but insofar as he can be explicated through the essence of the human mind considered under a form of eternity. That is, the mind's intellec­ tual love toward God is part of the infinite love wherewith God loves himself

Proof This, the mind's love, must be related to the active nature of the mind (Cor. Pr. 32, V and Pr. 3, III), and is therefore an activity whereby the mind re­ gards itself, accompanied by the idea of God as cause (Pr. 32, V and Cor. ) ; that is (Cor. Pr. 2 5 , I and Cor. Pr. I I , II) , an activity whereby God, insofar as he can be explicated through the human mind, regards h imself, accompanied by the idea of himself. And therefore (preceding Pr. ) this love of God is part of the infinite love wherewith God loves himself.

Corollary Hence it follows that God, insofar as he loves himself, loves mankind, and, consequently, that the love of God toward men and the mind's intellectual love toward God are one and the same.

Scholium From this we clearly understand in what our salvation or blessedness or freedom consists, namely, in the constant and eternal love toward God, that is, in God's love toward men. Th is love or blessedness is called glory in the Holy Scriptures, and rightly so. For whether this love be related to God or to the mind,

Part V, Proposition 38 379

i t can properly be called spiritual contentment, which in reality cannot be dis­ tinguished from glory (Def. of Emotions 25 and 30). For insofar as it is related to God, it is (Pc. 3 5 , V) pleasure (if we may still use this term) accompanied by the idea of h imself, and this is also the case insofar as it is related to the mind (Pr. 27, V). Again, since the essence of our mind consists solely in knowledge, whose prin­ ciple and basis is God (Pc. 1 5 , I and Sch. Pro 47, II), it follows that we see quite clearly how and in what way our mind, in respect of essence and existence, fol­ lows from the divine nature and is continuously dependent on God.

I have thought this worth noting here in order to show by this example the su­ periority of that knowledge of particular things which I have called "intu itive" or "of the third kind," and its preferabil ity to that abstract knowledge wh ich I have called "knowledge of the second kind."

For although I demonstrated in a general way in Part I that everyth ing (and consequently the human mind, too) is dependent on God in respect of its essence and of its existence, that proof, although legitimate and exempt from any shadow of doubt, does not so strike the mind as when it is inferred from the essence of each particular thing which we assert to be dependent on God.

PROPOSITION 37 Thl?fe is nothing in Nature which is contrary to this intellectual love, or which can destray it.

Proof This intellectual love follows necessarily from the nature of the mind in­ sofar as that is considered as an eternal truth through God's nature (Prs. 33 and 29, V) . Therefore, if there were anything that was contrary to this love, it would be contrary to truth, and consequently that wh ich could destroy this love could cause truth to be false, which, as is self-evident, is absurd. Therefore, there is noth­ ing in Nature . . . etc.

Scholium The Axiom in Part IV is concerned with particular things insofar as they are considered in relation to a definite time and place, of which I th ink no one can be in doubt.

PROPOSITION 3 8 The greatl?f the number o f things the mind understands b y the second and third kinds of knowledge, the less sub;ect it is to emotions that are bad, and the less it fears death.

Proof The essence of the mind consists in knowledge (Pc. I I , II). Therefore, the greater the number of things the mind knows by the second and third kinds of knowledge, the greater is the part of it that survives (Prs. 23 and 29, V), and conse­ quently (preceding Pr.) the greater is that part of it that is not touched by emotions contrary to our nature; that is (Pc. 30, IV), by emotions that are bad. Therefore, the greater the number of things the mind understands by the second and third kinds of knowledge, the greater is that part of it that remains unimpaired, and con­ sequently the less subject i t is to emotions . . . etc.

380 Ethics

Scholium Hence we understand that point which I touched upon in Sch. Pr. 39, IV and which I promised to explain in th is part, namely that death is less hurt­ ful in proportion as the mind's clear and distinct knowledge is greater, and con­ sequently the more the mind loves God. Again, since (Pr. 27, V) from the third kind of knowledge there arises the highest possible conten tment, hence it follows that the human mind can be of such a nature that that part of it that we have shown to perish with the body (Pr. 2 1 , V) is of no account compared with that part of it that survives. But I shall be dealing with this at greater length in due course.

PROPOSITION 39 He whose body is capable of the greatest amount of activity has a mind whose great­ est part is eternal.

Proof He whose body is capable of the greatest amount of activity is least as­ sailed by emotions that are evil (Pr. 38, IV) , that is (Pr. 30, IV), by emotions that are contrary to our nature. Thus (Pr. 1 0, V) he has the capacity to arrange and as­ sociate the affections of the body according to intellectual order and consequently to bring it about (Pr. 1 4, V) that all the affections of the body are related to God. This will result (Pr. 1 5 , V) in his being affected with love toward God, a love (Pr. 1 6 , V) that must occupy or constitute the greatest part of the mind. Therefore (Pr. 3 3 , V), he has a mind whose greatest part is eternal.

Scholium Since human bodies are capable of a great many activities, there is no doubt that they can be of such a nature as to be related to minds which have great knowledge of themselves and of God, and whose greatest and principal part is eter­ nal , with the result that they scarcely fear death. But in order that this may be more clearly understood, i t should here be remarked that our lives are subject to con­ tinual variation, and as the change is for the better or worse, so we are said to be fortunate or unfortunate. For he who passes from being a baby or child into being a corpse is said to be unfortunate; while, on the other hand, to have been able to pass the whole of one's life with a healthy mind in a healthy body is regarded as a mark of good fortune. And in fact he who, l ike a baby or a child, has a body capa­ ble of very l ittle activity and is most dependent on external causes, has a mind which, considered solely in i tself, has practically no consciousness of itself, of God, or of things, while he whose body is capable of very considerable activity has a mind which, considered solely in itself, is h ighly conscious of itself and of God and of things. In this life, therefore, we mainly endeavor that the body of childhood, as fur as its nature allows and is conducive thereto, should develop into a body that is capable of a great many activities and is related to a mind that is h ighly conscious of itself, of God, and of things, and in such a way that everything relating to its memory or imagination should be of scarcely any importance in comparison with its intellect, as I have already stated in the Scholium to the preceding Proposition.

PROPOSITION 40 The more perfection a thing has, the more active and the less passive it is. Con­ versely, the more active it is, the more perfect it is.

Part V, Proposition 41 381

Proof The more perfect a th ing is, the more reality it has (Def. 6, II); conse­ quently (Pr. 3 , III and Sch . ) , the more active it is and the less passive. This proof proceeds in the same manner in inverse order, from which i t follows that a th ing is the more perfect as it is more active.

Corollary Hence i t follows that the part of the mind that survives, of whatever extent i t may be, is more perfect than the rest. For the eternal part of the mind (Prs. 23 and 29, V) is the intellect, through which alone we are said to be active (Pr. 3 , 1lI) , whereas that part which we have shown to perish is the imagination (Pr. 2 1 , V), through which alone we are said to be passive (Pr. 3 , III and Gen. Def. of Emotions). Therefore, the former (preceding Pr. ) , of whatever extent it be, is more perfect than the latter.

Scholium This is what I had resolved to demonstrate concerning the mind in­ sofar as i t is considered without reference to the existence of the body. It is clear from this, and also from Pro 2 1 , I and other propositions, that our mind, insofar as it understands, is an eternal mode of thinking which is determined by another eternal mode of th inking, and this again by another, and so on ad infinitum, with the result that they all together constitute the eternal and infinite intellect of God.

PROPOSITION 4 1 Even if we did not know that our mind is etemal, we should still regard as being of prime importance piety and religion and, to sum up completely, everything which in Part IV we showed to be related to courage and nobility.

Proof The first and only basis of virtue, that is, of the right way of l ife (Cor. Pro 22 and Pr. 24, IV) , is to seek one's own advantage. Now in order to determine what reason prescribes as advantageous we took no account of the mind's eternity, a topic which we did not consider until Part V. So although at that point we were unaware that the mind is eternal, we regarded as being of prime importance what­ ever is related to courage and nobleness. So even if now we were unaware of the mind's eternity, we should still regard the said precepts of reason as being of prime importance.

Scholium The common belief of the multitude seems to be quite different. For the majority appear to th ink that they are free to the extent that they can indulge their lusts, and that they are giving up their rights to the extent that they are re­ quired to l ive under the commandments of the divine law. So they believe that piety and rel igion, in fact everyth ing related to strength of mind, are burdens which they hope to lay aside after death, when they will receive the reward of their servitude, that is, of piety and rel igion. And it is not by this hope alone, but also and especially by fear of incurring dreadful punishment after death, that they are induced to live according to the commandments of the divine law as far as their feebleness and impotent spirit allows. And if men did not have this hope and th is fear, and if they believed on the contrary that minds perish with bodies and that they, miserable creatures, worn out by the burden of piety, had no prospect of fur­ ther existence, they would return to their own inclinations and decide to shape

382 Ethics

their l ives according to their lusts, and to be ruled by fortune rather than by them­ selves. This seems to me no less absurd than if a man, not believing that he can susta in h is body on good food forever, were to decide to glut himself on poisons and deadly fare; or, on real izing that the mind is not eternal or immortal , he pre­ ferred to be mad and to l ive without reason. Such attitudes are so absurd that they are scarcely worth recounting.

PROPOSITION 42 Blessedne .. is not the reward of virtue, but virtue itself We do not enjoy ble .. edness because we keep our lusts in check. On the contrary, it is because we enjoy ble .. ed­ ness that we are able to keep our lusts in check.

Proof Blessedness consists in love toward God (Pr. 36, V and Sch.) , a love that arises from the third kind of knowledge (Cor. Pro 32 . V) , and so this love (Prs. 59 and 3, III) must be related to the mind insofar as the mind is active; and therefore it is virtue itsel f (Def. 8, IV). That is the first point. Again, the more the mind en­ joys this divine love or blessedness, the more i t understands (Pr. 32, V); that is (Cor. Pro 3, V) , the more power it has over the emotions and (Pr. 38, V) the less subject it is to emotions that are bad. So the mind's enjoyment of this divine love or blessedness gives it the power to check lusts. And since human power to keep lusts in check consists solely in the intellect, nobody enjoys blessedness because he has kept his emotions in check. On the contrary, the power to keep lusts in check arises from blessedness itself.

SchoIium I have now completed all that I intended to demonstrate concerning the power of the mind over the emotions and concerning the freedom of the mind. This makes clear how strong the wise man is and how much he surpasses the ig­ norant man whose motive force is only lust. The ignorant man, besides being driven hither and thither by external causes, never possessing true contentment of spirit, lives as if he were unconscious of himself, God, and things, and as soon as he ceases to be passive, he at once ceases to be at all . On the other hand, the wise man, insornr as he is considered as such, suffers scarcely any disturbance of spirit, but being conscious, by virtue of a certain eternal necessity, of h imself, of God and of things, never ceases to be, but always possesses true spiritual contentment.

If the road I have pointed out as leading to this goal seems very difficult, yet it can be found. Indeed, what is so rarely discovered is bound to be hard. For if sal­ vation were ready to hand and could be discovered without great toil , how could i t be that it is almost universally neglected? All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare.

End

TH E OLOG ICAL- P OLITICAL

TREAT I S E

Spinoza's Theological-Political Treatise (TIP) has recently become a sub;ect of great interest. There are many reasons for this fascination. One is its political and religiaus role in the Low Countries and throughout Europe, in its own day, as a document of radical religious critique and the sub;ect of intense debate. Another concerns its role as a hermeneutical work and an early contribution to biblical criticism. A third reason for recent interest is its treatment of scriptural faith and Judaism within a defense of liberal democracy, toleration, and freedom of expression. A fourth concerns the role ofSpinoza and the TTP in a tradition of liberalism that extends to Adam Smith and has provided western European thinkers, in the wake of the collapse of Marxism, with an appealing political perspective.

Furthermore, unlike Spinoza's system, which was his lifelong philosophical preoccupation, the TTP was one outcome of a very personal struggle at a very particular historical moment. In it Spinoza confronted his Judaism, the Bible and interpretations of it, religious beliefs and practices, and the urgencies of political and religious debate in the Dutch provinces around 1 665. Rather than a response to general intellectual developments, the TTP was a response to very particular historical events, and its audience was not philosophical colleagues in a narrow sense but rather a wider public, albeit one with precise skills, interests, and sympathies.

Like his friends Lodewi;k Meyer and Adriaan Koerbagh, Spinoza was the ob;ect of severe accusations and attack by theologians and the Reformed Church. In 1 666, in reaction to the publication of his Philosophica sacrae scripturae interpres (philosophy the In terpreter of Scripture), with its starkly philosophica� rational reading of Scripture, Meyer was publicly charged with atheism. Perhaps in part in response to the furor over Meyer's book and in part as an act of sel{­ defense, Spinoza interrupted work on the Eth ics and turned to the Bible, religion, science, and politics. In a famous letter of October 1 665 to Henry Oldenburg, he described his new pro;ect: to expose the pre;udices of the theologians, to defend himself against the charge of atheism, and to defend science and freedom of speech. Moreover, his work was further encouraged by the deeply disturbing plight of his friend Adriaan Koerbagh. The Koerbagh brothers, Adriaan and Jan, had known Spinoza since his days in Ri;nsburg and his visits to the university in Leiden. Over the years, they had become adherents ofSpinoza's naturalism and

383

384 Theological-Political Treatise

in 1 668 published an explicit and controversial defense of it, with an attack on Christianity, entitled "A Light Shining in Dark Places." Arrested, tried, and convicted, Adriaan died in prison in 1 669; it is likely that SpinoiZa, especially in his advocacy of liberal democracy and his defense of tolerance and free speech, was thinking of his martyred friend (Steven Nadler, Spinoza: A Life [Cambridge University Press, 1 999], 266-7).

Published anonymously in 1 670 under a false imprint, the TTP unleashed a flood of criticisms and recriminations, from Reformed theologians and Cartesians alike. SpinoiZa was charged with atheism, sacrilege, and idolatry. Such impassioned furor warned SpinoiZa against a Dutch translation, the popularity of the book notwithstanding, and in 1 67 1 , in a letter to his friend Tarig Telles, he pleaded for him to prevent the translation. If the intensity of public attacks was new, the material in the TTP was not, at least not wholly so. In a sense, at least in the first fifteen of its twenty chapters, devoted to the Bible and religion, SpinoiZa was returning to themes and ideas that probably originated for him in the years before his excommunication in 1 656.

The TTP can be read as a work of biblical interpretation or hermeneutics and also as a work of political theory. In its first fifteen chapters, SpinoiZa presents a method for reading the Bible; a treatment of several large themes-prophecy, miracles, and law: an account of the Bible's authorship, structure, and history; and an interpretation of the Bible's goals and purposes. In Chapters 1 6 to 20, SpinoiZa explains the nature of the state and argues for toleration and freedom of expression. The work is filled with controversial, provocative ideas and views. SpinoiZa analyiZes prophecy in terms of the abilities of the prophets, the context for their teaching, and the attitudes of their audiences. He denies the existence of miracles as traditionally understood, as divine interruptions of the causal order of nature, and reinterprets them as events for which no explanation is currently available. The Bible, he argues, is a human book that teaches a moral faith- charity and benevolence- and that does not contain scientific or metaphysical truths. Moreover, SpinoiZa defends liberal democracy and the toleration of scientific-philosophical thinking in a way that entails a moral life of reason, justice, mutual concern, and virtue. It is a life free from possion, a life of reason, of cooperation and justice for all citiiZens. In a world of monarchs, absolute rulers, and aristocratic privilege and a world rife with religious influence and hegemony over the affairs of private life and of government, SpinoiZa's scientific, naturalistic account of religion, ethics, and politics is radical. It was inflammatory and very quickly became notorious.

M.L.M.

CONTENTS

Preface

I . Of Prophecy 2 . Of the Prophets 3. Of the vocation of the Hebrews, and whether the gift of prophecy

was peculiar to them 4. Of the Divine Law 5. Of the reason for the institution of ceremonial observances. Belief

in the Bibl ical narratives: in what way and for whom it is necessary 6. Of Miracles 7 . Of the Interpretation of Scripture 8. In which it is shown that the Pentateuch and the Books of Joshua,

Judges, Ruth, Samuel and Kings were not written by themselves.

Contents 385

The question of their authorship is considered. Was there one author, or several, and who were they?

9. An enquiry into further matters relating to these same books, namely, whether Ezra gave them a final revision, and whether the marginal notes found in the Hebrew codices were variant reading.

1 0. An examination of the remaining books of the Old Testament by the same method as was used with the previous books

I I . An enqu iry as to whether the Apostles wrote their Epistles as Apostles and prophets, or as teachers. The function of the Apostles is explained

1 2 . Of the true original of the Divine Law. In what respect Scripture is called holy and the Word of God. I t is shown that Scripture, insofar as it contains the Word of God, has come down to us uncorrupted

1 3 . I t is shown that Scripture teaches only very simple doctrines and inculcates nothing but obedience, and that concerning the nature of God it teaches only what men can imitate by a definite code of conduct

1 4. An analysis of faith, the faithful and the fundamental principles of fa i th. Faith is finally set apart from philosophy

1 5 . I t is demonstrated that neither is theology ancillary to reason nor reason to theology. The reason why we are convinced of the authority of Holy Scripture

16 . The basis of the state; the natural and civil right of the individual , and the right of sovereign powers

386 Theological·Political Treatise

17 . It is demonstrated that nobody can, or need, transfer all his rights to the sovereign power. An account of the Hebrew state as it was in the time of Moses, and after his death before the institution of monarchy, and its success. Finally, the reasons why it came about that the theocratic state fell , and could scarcely have continued without civil strife

1 8. From the commonwealth of the Hebrews and their h istory some pol i tical principles are deduced

19. It is shown that the right over matters of rel igion is vested entirely in the sovereign, and that the external forms of worsh ip should be such as accord with the peace of the commonweal th , if we would serve God aright

20. I t is shown that in a free commonwealth every man may think as he pleases, and say what he thinks

Spinoza's Supplementary Notes to the Tractatus Theologico-Politicus

THE THEOLOGICAL-POLITICAL TRACTATE

Containing

Various Disquisitions,

By means of which it is shown not only that Freedom of Philosophising can be allowed in Preserving Piety

and the Peace of the Republic: but also that it is not possible for such Freedom to be upheld except when

accompanied by the Peace of the Republic and Piety Themselves.

The First Epistle of John, Chapter 4, Verse 1 3 . Through this means we recognise that we remain i n God, and God remains in us- that He gave to us from His own Spirit.

Hamburg, from Heinrich Kiinraht.

1 670

387

388 Theological-Political Treatise

PREFAC E

If men were able to exercise complete control over all their circumstances, or if continuous good fortune were always their lot, they would never be prey to su­ perstition. But since they are often reduced to such straits as to be without any re­ source, and their immoderate greed for fortune's fickle favours often makes them the wretched victims of altemating hopes and fears, the result is tha� for the most part, their credul ity knows no bounds. In critical times they are swayed this way or that by the slightest impulse, especially so when they are wavering between the emotions of hope and fear; yet at other times they are overconfident, boastful and arrogant.

No one can be unaware of these truths, even though I believe that men gen­ erally know not their own selves. For no one can have l ived in th is world without realising that, when fortune smiles at them, the majority of men, even if quite un­ versed in affairs , are so abounding in wisdom that any advice offered to them is regarded as an affront, whereas in adverSity they know not where to tum, begging for advice from any quarter; and then there is no counsel so fool ish, absurd or vain which they will not follow. Again, even the most trivial of causes are enough to raise their hopes or dash them to the ground. For if, while possessed by fear, they see something happen that calls to mind someth ing good or bad in the past, they believe that th is portends a happy or unhappy issue, and this they therefore call a lucky or unlucky omen, even though it may fail them a hundred times. Then again, if they are struck with wonder at some unusual phenomenon, they believe this to be a portent signifying the anger of the gods or of a supreme deity, and they therefore regard it as a pious duty to avert the evil by sacrifice and vows, suscepti­ ble as they are to superstition and opposed to rel igion. Thus there is no end to the kind of omens that they imagine, and they read extraordinary things into Nature as if the whole of Nature were a partner in their madness.

This being the case, we see that it is particularly those who greedily covet for­ tune's favours who are the readiest victims of superstition of every kind, and it is especially when they are helpless in danger that they all implore God's help with prayers and womanish tears. Reason they call blind, because it cannot reveal a sure way to the vanities that they covet, and human wisdom they call vain, while the delusions of the imagination, dreams and other childish absurdities are taken to be the oracles of God. Indeed, they think that God, spuming the wise, has writ­ ten h is decrees not in man's mind but in the entrails of beasts, or that by divine inspiration and instigation these decrees are foretold by fools, madmen or birds. To such madness are men driven by their fears.

It is fear, then , that engenders, preserves and fosters superstition . If anyone seeks particular examples to confirm what I have said, let h im consider Alexan­ der. It was only when he first leamt to fear fortune at Pylae Susidis (Curtius, Book

Preface 389

5, ch. 4) that superstition drove him to employ seers . l Mter his victory over Dar­ ius he ceased to consult prophets and seers until he was once more dismayed by his plight. With the Bacrians having deserted and Scyths taking the offensive while he himself lay wounded on his sickbed, he again (Curtius, Book 7, ch. 7) "having recourse once more to superstition, that mockery of human wisdom, bade Aris­ tander, in whom he had instilled his own credulity, enquire the issue by sacrifices." Numerous examples of this kind can be cited, illustrating quite clearly the fact that only while fear persists do men fall prey to superstition, that all the objects of spurious religious reverence have been no more than phantoms, the delusions springing from despondency and timidity, and that, finally, i t is in the times of the state's gravest perils that seers have held the strongest sway over the people and have been most formidable to their own rulers. But since I consider that this is quite common knowledge, I will say no more.

This being the origin of superstition - in spite of the view of some who assign i t to a confused idea of deity possessed by all mortals- it clearly follows that all men are by nature l iable to superstition. It follows that superstition, l ike all other instances of hallucination and frenzy, is bound to assume very varied and unsta­ ble forms, and that, finally, it is sustained only by hope, hatred, anger and deceit. For i t arises not from reason but from emotion, and emotion of the most pow­ erful kind. So men's readiness to fall victim to any kind of superstition makes it correspondingly difficult to persuade them to adhere to one and the same kind. Indeed, as the multitude remains ever at the same level of wretchedness, so it is never long con tented, and is best pleased only with what is new and has not yet proved delusory. This inconstancy has been the cause of many terrible uprising. and wars, for-as is clear from the above, and as Curtius, too, says so well in Book 4, ch. I O- "the multitude has no ruler more potent than superstition." So it is readily induced, under the guise of rel igion, now to worsh ip its rulers as gods, and then again to curse and condemn them as mankind's common bane. To coun­ teract this unfortunate tendency, immense efforts have been made to invest reli­ gion, true or false, with such pomp and ceremony that it can sustain any shock and constantly evoke the deepest reverence in all its worshippers. In th is the Turks have achieved the greatest measure of success. They hold even discussion of reli­ gion to be sinful , and with their mass of dogma they gain such a thorough hold on the individual's judgment that they leave no room in the mind for the exercise of reason, or even the capacity to dou bt.

Granted, then, that the supreme mystery of despotism, its prop and stay, is to keep men in a state of deception, and with the specious title of religion to cloak the fear by which they must be held in check, so that they will fight for their servi-

Spinoza's notes are mdlcated by asterisks; most of these are Supplementary Notes, which appear at the end of the work (page 573) . Notes by Seymour Feldman (main annotator for this work), transla­ tor Samuel Shirley, and Michael L. Morgan are mdlcated by numerals and appear in brackets.

I [Spmoza makesample use here and In Chapter 17 of the fuskentury (A.D . ) Roman historian Qum­ tus Curhus Rufus, the author of a biography of Alexander the Great, Historiae Alexandri Magni - S F I

390 Theological-Political Treatise

tude as if for salvation, and count it no shame, but the highest honour, to spend their blood and their lives for the glorification of one man. Yet no more disastrous policy can be devised or attempted in a free commonwealth. To invest with prej­ udice or in any way coerce the citizen's free judgment is altogether incompatible with the freedom of the people. As for those persecutions that are incited under the cloak of rel igion, they surely have their only source in th is, that law intrudes into the realm of speculative though� and that bel iefs are put on trial and con­ demned as crimes. The adherents and followers of these beliefs are sacrificed, not to the public weal, but to the hatred and savagery of their opponents. If under civil law 'only deeds were arraigned, and words were not punished',2 persecutions of this kind would be divested of any appearance oflegality, and disagreement would not turn into persecution.

Now since we have the rare good fortune to l ive in a commonwealth where freedom of judgment is fully granted to the individual citizen and he may wor­ ship God as he pleases, and where nothing is esteemed dearer and more precious than freedom, I th ink I am undertaking no ungrateful or unprofitable task in demonstrating that not only can this freedom be granted without endangering piety and the peace of the commonwealth, but also the peace of the common­ wealth and piety depend on this freedom.

This, then, is the main point wh ich I have sought to establish in th is treatise. For this purpose my most urgent task has been to indicate the main false as­ sumptions that prevail regarding rel igion- that is, the relics of man's ancient bondage-and then again the false assumptions regarding the right of c ivil au­ thorities. There are many who, with an impudence quite shameless, seek to usurp much of this right and, under the guise of rel igion, to al ienate from the govern­ ment the loyalty of the masses, still prone to heathenish superstition, so that slav­ ery may return once more. But before going on to discuss briefly my arrangement of this exposition , I shall first set forth the causes that have induced me to write.

I have often wondered that men who make a boast of profeSSing the Christian rel igion, which is a rel igion of love, j oy, peace, temperance and honest deal ing with all men, should quarrel so fiercely and display the bitterest hatred towards one another day by day, so that these latter characteristics make known a man's creed more readily than the former. Matters have long reached such a pass that a Christian, Turk, Jew or heathen can generally be recognised as such only by h is physical appearance or dress, or by his attendance at a particular place of worship, or by his profession of a particular belief and his allegiance to some leader. But as for their way of life, it is the same for al l . In seeking the causes of this unhappy state of affa irs, I am quite certa in that it stems from a wide-spread popular attitude of mind which looks on the ministries of the Church as dignities, its offices as posts of emolument and its pastors as eminent personages. For as soon as the Church's true function began to be thus distorted, every worthless fellow felt an intense de­ sire to enter holy orders, and eagerness to spread abroad God's rel igion degener-

2 [Tacitus, Anna/., I, I Z .-S S I

Preface 391

ated into base avarice and ambition. The very temple became a theatre where, in­ stead of Church teachers, orators held forth, none of them actuated by desire to instruct the people, but keen to attract admiration, to criticise their adversaries be­ fore the publ ic, and to preach only such novel and striking doctrine as might gain the applause of the crowd. This inevitably gave rise to great quarrels, envy and ha­ tred, which no passage of time could assuage. Little wonder, then , that of the old rel igion nothing is left but the outward form -wherein the common people seem to engage in base flattery of God rather than his worship-and that faith has be­ come identical with credul ity and biased dogma. But what dogmal -degrading rational man to beast, completely inhibiting man's free judgment and h is capac­ ity to distinguish true from false, and apparently devised with the set purpose of utterly extingu ishing the l ight ofreason. Piety and religion- O everlasting God­ take the form of ridiculous mysteries, and men who utterly despise reason, who reject and turn away from the intellect as naturally corrupt- these are the men (and this is of all things the most iniquitous) who are believed to possess the di­ vine l ight! Surely, if they possessed but a spark of the divine l ight, they would not indulge in such arrogant ravings, but would study to worship God more wisely and to surpass their fellows in love, as they now do in hate. They would not per­ secute so bitterly those who do not share their views: rather would they show com­ passion, if their concern was for men's salvation, and not for their own standing.

Furthermore, if they did indeed possess some divine l ight, this would surely be manifested in their teaching. I grant that they have expressed boundless wonder at Scripture's profound mysteries, yet 1 do not see that they have taught anything more than the speculations of Aristotelians or Platonists, and they have made Scripture conform to these so as to avoid appearing to be the followers of hea­ thens. It was not enough for them to share in the delusions of the Greeks: they have sought to represent the prophets as sharing in these same delusions. Th is surely shows qu ite clearly that they do not even gl impse the divine nature of Scrip' ture, and the more enthusiastic their admiration of these mysteries, the more clearly they reveal that their attitude to Scripture is one of abject servility rather than belief. And this is further evident from the fact that most of them assume as a basic principle for the understanding of Scripture and for extracting its true meaning that i t is throughout truthful and divine-a conclusion which ought to be the end result of study and strict examination ; and they lay down at the outset as a principle of interpretation that which would be far more properly derived from Scripture itself, which stands in no need of human fabrications.

When 1 pondered over these facts, that the l ight of reason is not only despised but is condemned by many as a source of impiety, that merely human supposi­ tions are regarded as divine doctrine and that credul ity is looked upon as faith; and when I saw that the disputes of philosophers are raging with violen t passion in Church and Court and are breeding bitter hatred and faction which readily turn men to sedition, together with other ills too numerous to recount here, I de­ l iberately resolved to examine Scripture afresh, conscientiously and freely, and to admit nothing as its teaching which I did not most clearly derive from it. With th is precaution I formulated a method of interpreting the Bible, and thus equipped I

392 Theological-Political Treatise

began first of all to seek answers to these questions: What is prophecy? In what way did God reveal himself to the prophets? Why were these men acceptable to God? Was i t because they attained rare heights in their understanding of God and Nature? Or was it only because of their piety? With the answers to these questions I had no difficulty in deciding that the authority of the prophets carries weight only in matters concerning moral ity and true virtue, and that in other matters their beliefs are irrelevant to us.

I then went on to enquire why the Hebrews were caIled God's chosen people. When I realised that this was for no other reason than that God chose for them a certain territory where they might l ive in security and wellbeing, I was led to un­ derstand that the Law revealed by God to Moses was simply the laws of the He­ brew state alone, and was therefore binding on none but the Hebrews, and not even on them except while their state stiIl stood. Furthermore, to ascertain whether Scripture taught that the human intellect is naturally corrupt, I resolved to enquire whether universal rel igion - i.e. the divine law revealed to all mankind through the Prophets and the Apostles- differed from the teaching. of the natu­ ral l ight of reason; and, again, whether miracles contravene the order of Nature, and whether they demonstrate God's existence and providence with greater clar­ ity and certainty than events which we understand clearly and distinctly through their prime causes.

Now I found noth ing expressly taught in Scripture that was not in agreement with the inteIlect or that contradicted it, and I also came to see that the prophets taught only very simple doctrines easily comprehensible by all, setting them forth in such a style and confirming them by such reasoning as would most l ikely in­ duce the people's devotion to God. So I was completely convinced that Scripture does not in any way inhibit reason and has nothing to do with philosophy, each standing on its own footing. To demonstrate th is in logical order and to settle the whole question conclusively, I show in what way Scripture must be interpreted, and how all our understanding of Scripture and of matters spiritual must be sought from Scripture alone, and not from the sort of knowledge that derives from the natural l ight of reason. I then pass on to indicate the prejudiced bel iefs that orig­ inate from the fact that the common people, prone to superstition and priz ing the legacy of time above eternity itself, worship the books of Scripture rather than the Word of God. Thereafter I show that the revealed Word of God is not to be iden­ tified with a certain number of books, but is a simple conception of the divine mind as revealed to the prophets; and that is- to obey God with all one's heart by practising justice and charity. I point out how this teaching in Scripture is adapted to the understanding and bel iefs of those to whom the Prophets and Apostles were wont to proclaim the Word of God, with the purpose that men might embrace it willingly and with all their heart. Then, the fundamental principles offaith being now made clear, I reach the conclusion that the object of knowledge by revela­ tion is nothing other than obedience, and so it is completely distinct from natu­ ral knowledge in its purpose, its basis and its method, that these two have nothing in common, that they each have a separate province that does not intrude on the other, and that neither should be regarded as ancillary to the other.

Preface 393

Furthermore, as men's ways of th inking vary considerably and different bel iefs are better suited to different men, and what moves one to reverence provokes ridicule in another, I repeat the conclusion already stated, that everyone should be allowed freedom of judgment and the right to interpret the basic tenets of h is faith as he thinks fit, and that the moral value of a man's creed should be judged only from h is works. In this way all men would be able to obey God whole­ heartedly and freely, and only justice and charity would be held in universal esteem.

After thus making clear the freedom granted to every man by the revelation of the Divine Law, I pass on to the second part of our subject, namely, the claim that this freedom can be granted without detriment to public peace or to the right of civil authorities, and should be so granted, and cannot be withheld without great danger to peace and grave harm to the entire commonwealth. To establish these points, I begin with the natural right of the individual; this is co-extensive with the individual's desire and power. Nobody is bound by natural right to l ive as another pleases, each man being the guardian of his own freedom. I go on to prove that nobody can really part with th is right except by transferring h is power of self­ defence to another, and he to whom each man has transferred h is right to l ive as he pleases together with h is power of self-defence must necessarily reta in absolute control over this natural right. Hence I show that those who hold the sovereignty possess the right over everything that is within their power and are the sole guardians of law and freedom, and that subjects should act in all matters solely in accordance with the sovereign's decree. However, since nobody can so deprive himself of the power of self-defence as to cease to be a human being, I conclude that nobody can be absolutely deprived of his natural rights, and that by a quasi­ natural right subjects do reta in some rights which cannot be taken from them without imperilling the state, and which therefore are either taCitly conceded or explicitly agreed by the rulers.

From these considerations I pass on to the Hebrew commonwealth, which I describe at some length so as to show in what way and by whose decision rel igion began to acquire the force oflaw, together with numerous other incidental mat­ ters of interest. Thereafter I prove that governments are the guardians and in ter­ preters of religious law as well as civil law, and they alone have the right to decide what is just and unjust, what is pious and impiOUS. I finally conclude that they can best retain this righ t and preserve the state in safety only by granting to the in­ dividual citizen the right to have his own opinions and to say what he thinks.

Such, learned reader, are the topics wh ich I here submit for your considera­ tion, topics which I am sure you will find interesting by reason of the great im­ portance of the issues discussed in the en tire work and in each separate chapter. I would say more, but I do not want my Preface to expand to a volume, especially since I believe its main points are quite familiar to philosophers. To others I seek not to commend this treatise, for I have no reason to expect them to approve it in any way. I know how deeply rooted in the mind are the prejudices embraced un­ der the guise of piety. I know, too, that the masses can no more be freed from their superstition than from their fears. F inally, I know that they are unchanging in their obstinacy, that they are not guided by reason, and that their praise and blame is

394 Theological-Political Treatise

at the mercy of impulse. Therefore I do not invite the common people to read this work, nor all those who are victims of the same emotional attitudes. Indeed, I would prefer that they disregard this book completely rather than make them­ selves a nuisance by misin terpreting it after their wont. For without any advantage to themselves they would stand in the way of others for whom a more l iberal ap­ proach to philosophical questions is prevented by this one obstacle, that they bel ieve that reason must be the handmaiden of theology. These latter, I am con­ fident, will derive great profit from this work.

However, as there are many who will not have the leisure, or perhaps the in­ clination, to peruse the whole of this work, I feel obliged to state at th is point, as also at the conclusion of the treatise, that I have written nothing that I would not willingly submit to the scrutiny and judgment of my country's government. If any­ thing of what I say is deemed by them to contravene the laws of our country or to be injurious to the common good, I am ready to withdraw i t. I realise that I am human and may have erred. But I have taken great pains to avoid error and to en­ sure that my writing should be in complete agreement with our country's laws, with piety, and with morality.

C HAPTER 1

Of Prop hecy 1

Prophecy, or revelation, is the sure knowledge of some matter revealed by God to man. A prophet is one who interprets God's revelations to those who cannot at­ tain to certain knowledge of the matters revealed, and can therefore be convinced of them only by simple fai th . For the Hebrew word for prophet is 'nabi' ,' that is, speaker and interpreter; but it is always used in Scripture in the sense of inter­ preter of God, as we gather from Exodus chapter 7 v. I , where God says to Moses, "See, I have made thee a God to Pharaoh , and Aaron thy brother shall be thy prophet." Th is impl ies that because Aaron was acting the part of prophet in in­ terpreting Moses' words to Pharaoh , Moses would be to Pharaoh as God, or one acting in God's place.

Prophets will be the subject of my next chapter; here I shall treat of prophecy. From the definition given above, it follows that natural knowledge can be called prophecy, for the knowledge that we acquire by the natural l ight ofreason depends solely on knowledge of God and of his eternal decrees. However, since th is natu­ ral knowledge is common to all men-for it rests on foundations common to all men - it is not so h ighly prized by the multitude who are ever eager for what is

I [Throughout Chapters 1 and 2 Spmoza has Malmonides' Guide of the Perplexed before him. The reader should consult Part 2, chapters 32-45 of the Guide.]

'" See Supplementary Note 1 .

Chapter 1 395

strange and foreign to their own nature, despising their natural gifts. Therefore prophetic knowledge is usually taken to exclude natural knowledge. Nevertheless, the latter has as much right as any other kind of knowledge to be called divine, since it is dictated to us, as it were, by God's nature insofar as we participate therein, and by God's decrees. It is no different from what is generally termed di­ vine knowledge except that the latter transcends the bounds of the former and cannot be accounted for by the laws of human nature considered in themselves. Yet in respect of the certa inty involved in natural knowledge and the source from which it derives, i .e . God, it is in no way inferior to prophetic knowledge. I dis­ count the fantastic view that the prophets had human bodies but nonhuman minds, so that their sensations and consciousness were of an entirely different or­ der from our own.

But although natural knowledge is divine, i ts professors cannot be called prophets ;' for the rest of mankind can apprehend and be convinced of what they teach with an assurance in no way inferior to theirs, and it is not through mere faith that they do so.

Since, then , the human mind contains the nature of God within itself in con­ cept, and partakes thereof, and is thereby enabled to form certa in basic ideas that explain natural phenomena and inculcate moral i ty, we are justified in as­ serting that the nature of mind, insofur as i t is thus conceived, is the primary cause of divine revelation. For, as I have just pointed out, all that we clearly and distinctly understand is dictated to us by the idea and nature of God-not in­ deed in words, but in a far superior way and one that agrees excellently with the nature of mind, as everyone who has tasted intellectual certainty has doubtless experienced in h is own case '> However, my main purpose being to treat only of what concerns Scripture alone, these few words on the natural l ight will suffice. So I pass on to treat more fully of other sources of knowledge, and other means by which God reveals to man that wh ich transcends the bounds of natural knowledge-and also that which is with in its scope, for there is nothing to pre­ vent God from communicating by other means to man that which we can know by the natural l ight.

However, our discussion must be confined to what is drawn only from Scrip­ ture. For what can we say of things transcending the bounds of our intellect ex­ cept what is transmitted to us by the prophets by word or writing? And since there are no prophets among us today, as fur as I know, our only recourse is to peruse the sacred books left to us by the prophets of old, taking care, however, not to make metaphorical interpretations or to attribute anything to the prophets which they themselves did not clearly declare. Now it is important to note here that the Jews never make mention of intermediate or particular causes nor pay any heed to them, but to serve rel igion and piety or, as it is commonly called, devoutness, they refer everything to God. For example, if they make money by some transaction ,

'" See Supplementary Note 2. 2 [Spmoza, Ethics, 2. 34, 49 Scholium, 4 30; Letter 32 ]

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they say it has come to them from God; if it happens that they desire someth ing, they say that God has so disposed their hearts; and if some thought enters their heads, they say that God has told them this. Hence we must not accept as prophecy and supernatural knowledge whatever Scripture says God told some­ one, but only what Scripture expressly declares, or can be deduced from the par­ ticular context, to have been prophecy or revelation.

An examination of the Bible will show us that everyth ing that God revealed to the prophets was revealed either by words, or by appearances, or by a combina­ tion of both. The words and appearances were either real and independent of the imagination of the prophet who heard or saw, or they were imaginary, the prophet's imagination being so disposed, even in waking hours, as to convince him that he heard something or saw something.

With a real voice God revealed to Moses the laws which he willed to be en­ joined on the Hebrews, as is clear from Exodus ch. 25 v. 22 where God says, "And there I will meet with thee and commune with thee from that part of the cover which is between the two Cherubim." This clearly shows that God employed a real voice, since Moses found God there ready to speak with him whenever he wished. This voice, whereby the law was proclaimed, was the only instance of a real voice, as I shall presently show.

There may be a case for believing that the voice with which God called Samuel was real, for in I Sam. ch. 3 v. 21 we read, "And the Lord appeared to Samuel again in Shiloh, for the Lord revealed h imself to Samuel in Shiloh by the word of the Lord;' implying that the appearing of the Lord to Samuel consisted in God's man­ ifesting h imself to him by word; that is to say, Samuel heard God speaking. How­ ever, since we are required to make a distinction between the prophesying of Moses and that of other prophets, we are bound to take the view that this voice heard by Samuel was imaginary. This view is supported by the fact that the voice resembled the voice of El i , which was quite familiar to Samuel, and so might be the more readily imagined. When thrice called by God, he thought it was Eli call ing.

The voice heard by Abimelech was imaginary, for in Gen. ch. 20 v. 6 we read, "And God said unto him in a dream . . . . " So the will of God was conveyed to him not in waking hours but in sleep, a time when the imagination is not naturally apt to depict what is most existent.

Some Jews take the view that the words of the Decalogue were not pronounced by God, but that the Israel ites heard only a noise without distinct words, and during its con tinuance they apprehended the Ten Commandments by direct in­ tuition. I was at one time incl ined to this view, seeing that the words of the Deca­ logue in Exodus differ from the words of the Decalogue in Deuteronomy. Since God spoke only once, it would seem to follow that the Decalogue is intended to convey the meaning, and not the actual words, of God. However, unless we would do violence to Scripture, it must undoubtedly be conceded that what the Israelites heard was a real voice; for in Deut. ch. 5 v. 4 it expressly says, "The Lord talked with you face to face," that is, just as two men ordinarily exchange thoughts through the medium of their two bodies. So it would be more in conformity with Scripture that God did really create a voice by which he revealed the Decalogue.

Chapter 1 397

As for the reason for the discrepancy in the wording and reasoning of the two ver­ sions, [ refer you to Chapter 8.

Yet even so, the difficulty is not entirely removed. It seems quite al ien to rea­ son to assert that a created thing, dependent on God in the same way as other cre­ ated things, should be able to express or display, factually or verbally, through its own individuali ty, God's essence or existence, declaring in the first person, "[ am the Lord your God, etc." Granted, when someone utters the words "[ understand," we all realise that it is the speaker's mind, not h is mouth, that understands. But it is because the mouth is identified with the person of the speaker, and also because the hearer knows what it is to understand, that he readily grasps the speaker's meaning through comparison with himself. Now in the case of people who pre­ viously knew nothing of God but his name, and desired to speak with him so as to be assured of h is existence, [ fa il to see how their need was met through a cre­ ated thing (which is no more related to God than are other created things, and does not perta in to God's nature) which declared, "[ am the Lord." What if God had manipulated the l ips of Moses-but why Moses? the l ips of some beast-so as to pronounce the words "[ am the Lord"? Would the people thereby have un­ derstood God's existence?

Again, it is the indisputable meaning of Scripture that God himself spoke (for which purpose he descended from Heaven to Mount Sinai) and that not only did the Jews hear him speaking but their ch ief men even beheld him (Exodus ch. 24). Nor did the Law revealed to Moses- to which noth ing might be added and from which nothing might be taken away, and wh ich was established as the nation's statutes- ever require us to believe that God is incorporeal or that he has no form or figure, but only that he is God, in whom the Jews must believe and whom alone they must worship. And to dissuade them from forsaking his worship, it forbade them to assign any image to him or to make any; for, as they had not seen God's image, any image they could make would not resemble God but must necessar­ ily resemble some created thing which they had seen. So when they worshipped God through that image, their thoughts would not be of God but of that which the image resembled, and so in the end they would attach to that thing the glory and worsh ip of God. But indeed, Scripture does clearly indicate that God has a form, and that when Moses heard God speaking, it befell him to see God, but to behold only h is back parts. So [ have no doubt that here lies some mystery, which [ shall discuss more fully later on. For the present [ shall go on to point out those passages in Scripture which indicate the means whereby God has revealed h is de­ crees to man.

That revelation has occurred through images alone is clear from I Chron. ch. 2 1 , where God displays his anger to David through an angel grasping a sword. So, too, in the case of Balaam. Maimonides and some others take the view that this and all other instances of an apparition of an angel -as to Manoah and to Abra­ ham when he was about to sacrifice his son-occurred in dreams, on the grounds that nobody could have seen an angel with his eyes open. But this is mere rubbish. They are concerned only to extort from Scripture some Aristotelian nonsense and some fabrications of their own; and this [ regard as the height of absurdity.

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It was by images, unreal and dependent only on the prophet's imagination, that God revealed to joseph h is future dominion.

It was through images and words that God revealed to joshua that he himself would fight on their behalf. He caused to appear to him an angel with a sword as ifto lead h is army, and he had also revealed th is in words, wh ich joshua had heard from an angel . In the case of Isa iah, too (ch. 6). it was conveyed to him through a vision that God's providence was forsaking the people: he saw God, the thrice Holy, s itting on h is throne on h igh, and the Israelites stained with the filth of their sins, sunk in foulness, and thus far removed from God. Thereby he understood the presen t miserable pl ight of the people, while its future calamities were re­ vealed to him by words that seemed to issue from God. I could quote many sim­ ilar examples from the Bible, but I think they are suffiCiently fumiliar to all .

But the position here outl ined receives even clearer confirmations in Num­ bers ch. 12 v. 6, 7, "If there be a prophet among you, I the Lord will make myself known unto him in a vision (that is, through figures and symbols, for in the case of Moses' prophecy God declared that there was vision without symbols) and I will speak unto h im in a dream (that is, not in actual words and a real voice). But not thus (will I reveal myself) to Moses. With him will I speak mouth to mouth , by seeing and no t b y dark speeches, a nd the similitude o f the Lord shall he be­ hold"; that is to say, beholding me as a friend might do, and not in terror, shall he speak with me- Exodus ch. 33 v. I I . Therefore there can be no doubt that other prophets did not hear a real voice, and this is further confirmed by Deut. ch. 34 v. 10, "And there stood (meaning 'arose') not a prophet since in Israel like unto Moses, whom the Lord knew face to fuce," which must be taken to mean 'through voice alone', for not even Moses ever saw the Lord's fuce (Exodus ch. 33 ) .

These are the only means of communication between God and man that I find in the Bible, and so, as I have previously shown, no other means should be alleged or admitted. We may quite clearly understand that God can communicate with man without mediation, for he communicates his essence to our minds without employing corporeal means. Nevertheless, a man who can perceive by pure in­ tuition that which is not contained in the basic principles of our cognition and cannot be deduced therefrom must needs possess a mind whose excellence far surpasses the human mind. Therefore I do not believe that anyone has attained such a degree of perfection surpassing all others, except Christ. To him God's or­ dinances leading men to salvation were revealed not by words or by visions, but di­ rectly, so that God manifested himself to the Apostles through the mind of Christ as he once did to Moses through an audible voice. The Voice of Christ can thus be called the Voice of God in the same way as that which Moses heard. In that sense it can also be said that the Wisdom of God - that is, wisdom that is more than human- took on human nature in Christ, and that Christ was the way of salvation.

But I must here ask it to be noted that I am certa inly not alluding to the doc­ trines held by some Churches about Christ, nor am I denying them; for I freely confess that I do not understand them. What I have just stated I gather from Scrip­ ture itself. Nowhere have I read that God appeared to Christ or spoke with him, but that God was revealed to the Apostles through Christ, that Christ is the way

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of salvation, that the ancient Law was transmitted through an angel, not directly by God and so on. Therefore, if Moses spoke with God face to face as a man may do with his fellow (that is, through the medium of their two bodies), then Christ communed with God mind to mind.

Therefore we may conclude that, with the exception of Christ, God's revela­ tions were received only with the aid of the imaginative faculty, to wit, with the aid of words or images. Hence it was not a more perfect mind that was needed for the gift of prophecy, but a more l ively imaginative faculty, as I shall demonstrate more clearly in the next chapter. At this point we must ask what is meant in the Bible by the prophets' being filled with the Spirit of God, or the prophets speak­ ing with the Spirit of God. To this end we must first ask the meaning of the Hebrew word 'ro'al]' , which is commonly translated as Spirit. 3

The basic meaning of the word 'ro' a�' is wind, as is well known, but it is often used in many other senses, which nevertheless derive from this source. It is used to mean:

I. Breath. Psalm 1 3 5 v. 17, "Neither is there any Spirit in their mouths." 2 . Life, or breathing. 1 Samuel ch. 30 v. 1 2, "His Spirit came again to h im,"

that is, he started breathing. 3 . Hence, courage and strength, as in joshua ch. 2 v. I I , "Neither did there

remain any more spirit in any man." Likewise Ezekiel ch. 2 v. 2 , "And the Spirit (i .e. strength) entered into me and set me on my feet:

4. Hence-virtue or capacity, as in job ch. 32 v. 8, "But there is a Spirit in man," that is, wisdom is not to be sought exclusively among the old, for I now see that it depends on the virtue and capacity of the individual person . So also Num­ bers ch. 27 v. 1 8, " . . . a man in whom there is the Spirit."

5 . Disposition of mind. Numbers ch. 14 v. 24, " . . . because he had another Spirit in h im," that is, a different disposition or attitude of mind. Likewise Proverbs ch. I v. 23 , "I will pour out my Spirit unto you," that is, my mind. In this sense, too, it is used to mean will, or decision, desire, and urge, as in Ezekiel ch. I v. 1 2 , "Whither the Spirit was to go, they went." Likewise Isaiah ch. 30 v. I , " . . . for weav­ ing schemes, but not of my Spirit." Also ch. 29 v. 1 0 , " . . . for the Lord hath poured out on you the Spirit ( i.e. the desire) of deep sleep." Also judges ch. 8 v. 3 , " . . . then their Spirit (i .e. urge) was abated." Likewise Proverbs ch. 1 6 v. 32, "He that ruleth his Spirit ( i.e. desire) is better than he who taketh a city: Again, ch. 25 v. 28, "He that hath no rule over his own Spirit." Also Isaiah ch. 33 v. I I , "Your Spirit as fire shall devour you." Moreover, the word "ru'a�," insofar as i t means the mind, serves to express all the passions, and also the gifts, of the mind. Lofty spirit means pride, lowly spirit humility, evil spirit hatred and melancholy, good spirit kindli­ ness. There is the spirit of jealousy, the spirit (i .e. desire) of fornication, the spirit of wisdom, of counsel, of bravery, that is to say (Hebrew tends to use nouns rather than adjectives), a wise, prudent, courageous mind, or the virtue of wisdom, pru­ dence, courage. Then there is the spirit of kindness, and so on.

, [Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed, I 40 I

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6. Mind itself, or Soul, as in Eccles. ch. 3 v. 1 9, "They all have the one Spirit (or Soul)"; " . . . and the Spirit shall return to God.'"

7 . Finally, it can mean the quarters of the world (because of the winds that blow thence), and also the sides of any thing facing towards those quarters. See Ezekiel ch. 37 v. 9, and ch. 42 v. 1 6, 1 7 , 1 8, 19 etc.

We should now note that a th ing is referred to God and said to be of God in the following ways:

L As belonging to God's nature, being, so to speak, a part of God, in such phrases as 'the power of God: 'the eyes of God.'

2 . Because it is in God's power and acts at God's behest, as in the Bible the heavens are called 'the heavens of God: as being God's chariot and habitation , Assyria is called 'the scourge of God: Nebuchadnezzar, 'the servant of God' and so on.

3 . As being dedicated to God; e.g. 'the temple of God: 'a Nazarene of God: 'the bread of God' and so on.

4. As being told us by the prophets, not revealed through the natural l ight of reason . Thus the Law of Moses is called the Law of God.

5 . As an expression of the superlative degree, as 'the mountains of God: that is, very high mountains; 'the sleep of God: that is, very deep sleep. In th is sense we should explain Amos ch. 4 v. I I , where God himself says, "I have overthrown you as the overthrow of the Lord came upon Sodom and Gomorrah," meaning that memorable overthrow; for since God is speaking in the first person , the pas­ sage cannot properly be explained in any other way. The natural wisdom of Solomon, too, is called 'the wisdom of God'; that is, divine, or above normal. In the Psalms, too, cedars are called 'the cedars of God' to express their extraordinary size. And in I Samuel ch. I I v. 7, " . . . and the fear of God fell upon the people," very great fear is meant.

In th is same sense, whatever the Jews did not understand, being at that time ignorant of its natural causes, was referred to God. 5 Thus a storm was called the chiding of God, thunder and l ightning were called the arrows of God; for they thought that God kept the winds shut up in caves, which they called the treasur­ ies of God. In this bel ief they differed from the Gentiles, in that they believed the ruler of the winds to be God, not Aeolus. For the same reason miracles are called the works of God, that is, wonderful works. For surely all natural phenomena are the works of God, existing and acting through the divine power alone. So in th is sense the Psalmist calls the Egyptian miracles 'the powers of God: because, to the surprise of the Hebrews, they opened the way to salvation in the midst of perils, thus evoking their extreme wonder.

Since unusual works of Nature are called works of God, and trees of unusual size are called trees of God, it should occasion us no surprise that in Genesis men of extraordinary strength and great stature are called sons of God, although impi-

4 [Eccles ch. 12 v. 7. The reference IS onntted In the text.] , [Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed, Z <IS I

Chapter 1 40 I

ous robbers and whoremongers. So any quality whatsoever whereby one surpassed all others used to be referred to God in olden days, and not only by Jews but by Gentiles too. When Pharaoh heard the interpretation of his dream, he said that Joseph possessed the mind of the gods; and Nebuchadnezzar, too, told Daniel that he possessed the mind of the holy gods. Indeed, th is is qu ite common in Latin l i t­ erature. Works of art are said to have been 'wrought by a divine hand: which, trans­ lated into Hebrew, would be 'wrought by the hand of God: as any Hebrew scholar would know.

So those passages of Scripture that make mention of the Spirit of God can now be readily understood and expla ined. In certa in passages ' the Spirit of God' and 'the Spirit of Jehovah' mean simply a very fierce, dry, deadly wind, as in Isaiah ch. 4() v. 7 , "the wind of Jehovah blew upon it," that is, a very dry, deadly wind. Also Genesis ch. I v. 2, " . . . and the wind of God moved upon the water; i.e. a very strong wind. Then again, it is used to mean h igh courage. The courage of Gideon and of Samson is called in the Bible 'the Spirit of God: that is, a bold disposition , ready for anything. So, too, any virtue or power above the normal is called the Spirit ( i .e . Virtue) of God, as in Exodus ch. 31 v. 3, " . . . and I will fill h im (Beza­ leel) with the Spirit of God; that is, as Scripture explains, with talent and skill above the common lot of mankind. Similarly, Isaiah ch. I I v. 2 , "and the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him:' that is, as the prophet goes on to explain in more detail in the manner customary to biblical writing, the virtue of wisdom, of coun­ sel , of might and so on. So, too, the melancholy of Saul is called 'the evil Spirit of God: that is, a very profound melancholy; for Saul's servants who called h is melancholy 'the melancholy of God' suggested to h im that he should send for a musician to divert him by playing the harp, which indicates that by the melan­ choly of God they understood a natural melancholy.

Again, the Spirit of God can mean man's mind, as in Job ch. 27 v. 3 , " . . . and the Spirit of God in my nostrils," the allusion being to Genesis "And God breathed into man's nostrils the breath of l ife." So, too, Ezekiel , prophesying to the dead (ch. 37 v. 14), " . . . and I shall put my Spirit into you and ye shall live," that is, I shall restore you to life. The same meaning occurs in Job ch. 34 v. 1 4, "if he will (meaning God), he will gather unto himself his Spirit (that is, the mind he has given us) and h is breath." In the same way we should understand Genesis ch. 6 v. 3, "my Spirit shall not always reason (or strive) in man, for that he is flesh"; that is, man hereafter will act from the dictates of h is flesh, and not ofthe mind which I gave him so that he might discern the good. So, too, Psalm 51 v. 1 0, I I , "Create in me a clean heart, 0 God, and renew a seemly (or orderly) Spirit (that is, de­ s ire) in me. Cast me not away from Thy presence, and take not the Spirit of Thy hol iness from me." Since sin was believed to arise from the flesh alone and the mind was the cause of only good impulses, he invokes God's help against fleshly desire, but he prays that the mind which God, the Holy One, gave him, should be preserved merely.

Again, since Scripture, in concession to the frailty of the multitude, is wont to depict God in the likeness of man and to attribute to him mind, heart, emotions, and even body and breath, the Spirit of God is often used in the Bible to mean

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the mind, disposition, emotion, strength and breath of God. Thus Isaiah ch. 4() v. 1 3 , "Who hath directed the Spirit (i .e. mind) of God?" that is, who but God him­ self has determined God's mind to will anyth ing; and ch. 63 v. 1 0, " . . . and with bitterness and pain they vexed his Holy Spirit." Hence it comes to be used for the Law of Moses, which displays God's mind, as it were; as in Isaiah ch. 63 v. I I , "Where is h e that put his Holy Spirit within him?" - to wit, the Law of Moses, as can be gathered from the context. Also Nehemiah ch. 9 v. 20, "Thou gayest also Thy good Spirit (i .e. mind) to instruct them," for he is speaking of the occasion of the giving of the Law. And the same allusion is made in Deut. ch. 4 v. 6 where Moses says, "for this (namely, the Law) is your wisdom and your understanding." So, too, Psalm 143 v. 10 "Thy good Spirit will lead me unto the level land," that is, your mind revealed to me will lead me to the right way.

The Spirit of God may also mean, as we have seen, the breath of God; for breath, too, just l ike mind, heart and body, is incorrectly attributed to God in Scripture, as in Psalm 3 3 v. 6. Again, it can mean the power, force, or virtue of God, as in Job ch. 3 3 v. 4, "The Spirit of God hath made me," that is, the virtue or power, or, if you prefer, the decree of God. For the Psalmist, in the language of poetry, also says, "By the command of God were the heavens made, and all the host of them by the spirit (or breath) of h is mouth," that is, by his decree, uttered, as it were, in one breath. Likewise, in Psalm 1 39 v. 7, "Whither shall I go from thy Spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy sight?" That is, as the Psalmist goes on to amplify his words, Whither can I go as to beyond thy power and thy presence?

Finally, the Spirit of God is used in the Bible to express the emotions of God, namely, h is kindness and his mercy, as in Micah ch. 2 v. 7 , "Is the Spirit of the Lord (that is, his mercy) straitened? Are these (cruelties) h is works?" Likewise Zechariah ch. 4 v. 6, "Not by my might, nor by power, but by my Spirit alone," that is, by my mercy. I t is also in this sense, I th ink, that we should understand ch. 7 . v. 12 of the same prophet, "They made their hearts of adamant stone, lest they should obey the Law and the commands that God hath sent from his Spirit (that is, his mercy) by the prophets of old." In the same sense, again, Haggai says, "My Spirit ( i .e. my grace) rema ins among you. Fear ye nof' (ch. 2 v. 5 ) .

As for Isaiah ch . 48 v . 1 6 , "And now the Lord God, and h is Spirit, hath sent me;' this can be taken as referring either to God's merciful heart or to h is mind as revealed in the Law. For he says, "From the beginning (that is, from the time when I first came to you to preach God's anger and his sentence pronounced against you) I spoke not in secret. From the time when sentence was pronounced, there was I (as he himself has testified in ch. 7); but now I am a messenger of joy, sent by God's mercy to prophesy your restoration." But he can also, as I sa id, be understood as referring to God's mind as revealed in the Law, meaning that he had come to wam them again by command of the Law, namely, Leviticus ch. 19 v. 1 7; and therefore he warns them in the same circumstances and the same man­ ner as Moses was wont to warn them, and l ike Moses, he ends by preaching the restoration. However, the first explanation seems to me more l ikely.

To return now to the main purpose of this chapter, the following Scriptural ex­ pressions are now quite clear: the Spirit of the Lord was upon a prophet, the Lord

Chapter 1 403

poured h is Spirit into men, men were filled with the Spirit of God and with the Holy Spirit and so on. They mean merely this, that the prophets were endowed with an extraordinary virtue exceeding the normal,' and that they devoted them­ selves to piety with especial constancy. Furthermore, they perceived the mind and thought of God; for we have seen that in Hebrew 'Spirif means both the mind and the mind's thoughts, and it was for this reason that the law, since i t displays the mind of God, is called the Spirit or the mind of God. Therefore the imaginative fuculty of the prophets, insofur as it was the instrument for the revelation of God's decrees, could equally well be called the mind of God, and the prophets could be said to have possessed the mind of God. Now the mind of God and his etemal thoughts are inscribed in our minds, too, and therefore we also, in Scriptural lan­ guage, perceive the mind of God. But since natural knowledge is common to all men, it is not so highly prized, as I have already said, and particularly in the case of the Hebrews, who vaunted themselves above all men - indeed, despising all men, and consequently the sort of knowledge that is common to all men.

Finally, the prophets were said to possess the Spirit of God because men did not know the causes of prophetic knowledge, which evoked their wonder. They therefore referred i t l ike all other portents to God, and were wont to call it divine knowledge.

We can now have no hesitation in affirming that the prophets perceived God's revelations with the aid of the imaginative faculty alone, that is, through the medium of words or images, either real or imaginary. Since we find no mention in Scripture of any other means than these, it is not permissible for us to invent any, as I have already made clear. As to the particular laws of Nature involved in revelation, I confess my ignorance. I might, indeed, have followed others in say­ ing that it happened through the power of God, but this would be mere qUibbling: it would be the same as trying to explain the specific reality of a particular th ing by means of some transcendental term. For everyth ing takes place through the power of God. Indeed, since Nature's power is nothing but the power of God, it is beyond doubt that ignorance of natural causes is the measure of our ignorance of the power of God. So i t is folly to have recourse to the power of God when we do not know the natural cause of some phenomenon- that is, when we do not know the power of God.6 However, there is no need anyway for us now to have an understanding of the cause of prophetic knowledge. As I have already indi­ cated, our enquiry is here confined to the teachings of Scripture, with view to drawing our own conclusions from these, as from data presented by Nature. The causes of these Scriptural teachings are not our concern.

Since, then, the prophets perceived the revelations of God with the aid of the imaginative fucul ty, they may doubtless have perceived much that is beyond the limits of intellect. For many more ideas can be constructed from words and im­ ages than merely from the principles and axioms on which our entire natural knowledge is based.

'" See Supplementary Note 3.

, [Splnoza, Ethics, 1 . 2 5 , 34--3 5 J

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Now we see why the perceptions and the teachings of the prophets were nearly all in the form of parables and allegories, and why all spiritual matters were ex­ pressed in corporeal form; for this is more appropriate to the imaginative faculty_ We shall no longer wonder why Scripture, or the prophets, speak so strangely or obscurely ofthe Spirit, or mind, of Cod, as in Numbers ch. I I v. 17 and in I Kings ch. 22 v. 2 etc . , and again why Cod was seen by Micaiah as seated, by Daniel as an old man clothed in wh ite garments, by Ezekiel as fire; why the Holy Spirit was seen by those with Christ as a dove descending, by the Apostles as tongues of flame, and by Paul at h is conversion as a great l ight. All th is is in full agreement with the common imagination of Cods and Spirits.

Finally, the imaginative facul ty being fleeting and inconstant, the gift of prophecy did not remain with the prophets for long, nor did it often occur; it was very rare, manifesting itself in very few men, and infrequently even in them. Th is being so, we must now enquire whence the prophets derived their certa inty of what they perceived merely through their imagination rather than through as­ sured rational principles. However, on this point it is to Scripture that we must once again have recourse, since on this subject, as I have said, we possess no sci­ entific knowledge, which is to say that we cannot explain it through its first causes. What Scripture has to say on the certainty of the prophets will be the subject of the next chapter, which will be about the prophets.

C HAPTER 2

Of the Prophets

It follows from the last chapter, as I have already stated, that the prophets were not endowed with a more perfect mind, but with a more vivid power of imagination . Scripture, too, provides ample material to confirm this. In the case of Solomon , it is clear that he surpassed others in wisdom, but not in the gift of prophecy. He­ man, Darda and Kalkol were also men of outstanding wisdom, but not prophets; 1 on the other hand, countrymen who had no learning whatsoever- indeed, even women of humble station, l ike Hagar, the handmaiden of Abraham-were en­ dowed with the gift of prophecy. This fact is in no way at variance with experience and reason . Those with a more powerful imagination are less fitted for purely in­ tellectual activity, while those who devote themselves to the cultivation of their more powerful intellect, keep their imagination under greater control and re­ stra int, and they hold it in rein, as i t were, so that it should not invade the province of intellect.

Therefore those who look to find understanding and knowledge of things nat­ ural and spiritual in the books of the Prophets go far astray. In response to the de-

1 [See I Kings , , 1 1 -M L.M J

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mands of our age, of philosophy, and of truth ilself, I have resolved to demonstrate this point at some length, disregarding the rantings of superstition, the bitter en­ emy of those who are devoted to true knowledge and true morality. Alas, things have now come to such a pass that those who openly declare that they do not pos­ sess the idea of God and that they know God only through created things (of whose causes they are ignorant) do not blush to accuse philosophers of atheism.

To treat the subject methodically, I shall show that prophecy varied not only with the imagination and the temperament of each prophet but also with the be­ l iefs in which they had been brought up, and that their prophesying never made the prophels more learned, as I shall go on to explain in more detail . But I rnust first discuss the question of the certainty of the prophets, for two reasons: because it is relevant to the subject of th is chapter, and also because it has sorne bearing on the general thesis I am seeking to prove.

Irnagination by ilself, unl ike every clear and distinct idea, does not of ils own nature carry certainty with it.2 In order that we may attain certa inty of what we imagine, there has to be something in addition to imagination, namely, reason­ ing. Hence it follows that prophecy cannot of ilself carry certainty, because, as I have shown, it depended solely on the imagination. So the prophels were not as­ sured of God's revelation through the revelation ilself, but through a sign . Th is is clear in the case of Abraham (Gen. ch. 1 5 v. 8) who, when he heard God's prom­ ise, asked for a sign. He did indeed believe in God, and he did not seek a sign so as to have fu ith in God, but to know that this was God's promise to him. This is even clearer in the case of G ideon, who says to God, "Show rne a sign (that I may know) that it is Thou who talkest to me." See Judges ch. 6 v. 1 7. To Moses, too, God says, "And let this be a sign that I have sent thee." Hezekiah , who had long known Isaiah to be a prophet, asked for a sign of the prophecy predicting his re­ covery from sickness. This makes it clear that the prophels always received some s ign to assure them of the certa inty of their prophetic imaginings. It is for th is rea­ son that Moses warns the Jews (Deut. ch. 1 8, last verse) to seek a sign from the prophet, namely, the issue of some future event. In this respect, then, prophecy is inferior to natural knowledge, which needs no sign, but of ils own nature car­ ries certainty.

Moreover, the certa inty afforded by prophecy was not a mathernatical cer­ tainty, but only a moral certa inty. This, again, is made clear in Scripture, for in Deut. ch. 1 3 Moses gives warning that if any prophet should seek to introduce new gods, even if he should confirm his teaching by signs and wonders, he must nevertheless be condemned to death. For, as Moses goes on to say, "The Lord also worketh signs and miracles to try his people." Christ, too, gives h is disciples a sim­ ilar warning in Matthew ch. 24 v. 24. Indeed, Ezekiel clearly tells us (ch. 14 v. 9) that God sometimes deceives men by false revelations, "And when a prophet (that is, a false prophet) is deceived and hath spoken a thing, I , the Lord, have deceived that prophet." Mica iah (I Kings ch. 22 v. 23 ) bears a s imilar witness in the case of Ahab's prophels.

2 [Spmoza, Ethics, 2 40, Scholium 2.]

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Although this seems to prove that prophetic revelation is a matter open to much doubt, it nevertheless did possess a considerable degree of certainty, as I have said. For God never deceives the good and h is chosen ones: in accordance with the ancient proverb (I Samuel ch. 24 v. 1 3) , and as is clearly shown by the story of Abigail and her speech , God uses the good as the instruments ofh is good­ ness and the wicked as the executors and tools of h is wrath . This is also qu ite clear from the case of Micaiah quoted above: although God had resolved to deceive Ahab through prophets, he employed only false prophets, whereas to the good prophet he revealed what was true and did not forbid h im to proclaim the truth . Still, the prophefs certa inty was only of a moral kind, as I have said; for nobody can justify himself before God, or boast that he is the instrument of God's good­ ness. This is what Scripture tells us, and shows in actual ity; for God's anger mis­ led David to number the people, although Scripture bears ample witness to David's piety.

Therefore the certainty of the prophets was based en tirely on these three con­ siderations:

L That the things revealed were most vividly imagined, just as we are wont to be affected by objects in our waking hours.

2 . The occurrence of a sign. 3 . Lastly and most important, that the minds of the prophets were directed ex­

clusively towards what was right and good. Although Scripture does not invariably make mention of a sign, it should nev­

ertheless be assumed that the prophets always received a sign. Scripture does not always relate in full every deta il and circumstance, as many scholars have re­ marked, but tends rather to take such things for granted. Furthermore, we can al­ low that, when their prophecy revealed nothing beyond what was contained in the Law of Moses, the prophets stood in no need of a sign, for the Law was their assurance. For example, Jeremiah's prophecy concerning the destruction of Jerusalem was supported by the prophecies of other prophets and by the threats of retribution contained in the Law, and so needed no sign; but Hananiah , who in the face of all the prophets prophesied the speedy restoration of the state, nec­ essarily needed a sign, in the absence of which he ought to have doubted h is prophecy until it might be confirmed by the event he had prophesied. See Jere­ miah ch. 28 v. 9.

Therefore the certainty acquired by the prophets from signs was not a mathe­ matical certainty-that is, the certainty that necessarily derives from the appre­ hension of what is apprehended or seen -but only of a moral kind, and the signs were vouchsafed only to convince the prophet. It therefore follows that the signs vouchsafed were suited to the bel iefs and capacity of the prophet. A sign that would validate his prophecy for one prophet might fail to convince another who held different beliefs, and so the signs varied in the case of each prophet. S imi­ larly, revelation also varied, as we have said, in the case of each prophet accord­ ing to his temperament, the nature of h is imagination, and the bel iefs he had previously held. It varied with temperament in this way, that if the prophet was of a cheerful disposition, then victories, peace and other joyful events were revealed

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to him; for it is on things of this kind that the imagination of such people dwells. If he was of a gloomy disposition, then wars, massacres, and all kinds of calami­ ties were revealed to him. And just as a prophet might be merciful , gentle, wrath­ ful, stern and so forth, so he was more fitted for a particular kind of revelation. In the same way, too, revelation varied with the type of imagination. If the prophet was a man of culture, it was also in a cultivated way that he perceived God's mind; ifhe lacked an orderly mind, in a disorderly way. The same applies to revelations that took the form of images; the visions were of oxen and cows and the like if the prophet was a countryman, of captains and armies in the case of a soldier, of a royal throne and suchl ike if he was a courtier. F inally, prophecy varied with the different bel iefs of the prophets. To the Magi (see Matth. ch. 2) who believed in the follies of astrology, Chrisfs birth was revealed through imagining a star rising in the East. To the augurs of Nebuchadnezzar (see Ezekiel ch. 21 v. 26) the de­ struction of Jerusalem was revealed in entra ils, whereas the king h imself under­ stood it from oracles and from the fl ight of arrows which he shot into the air. To those prophets who believed that men act from free choice and from their own power, God was revealed as one who is aloof and unaware of future human ac­ tions. All this we shall illustrate by individual cases taken from Scripture.

The first point is evident from the case of Elisha (2 Kings ch. 3 v. 1 5 ) who, in order to prophesy to Jehoram, called for a harp, and could apprehend the mind of God only when he had been beguiled by its music. Only then did he prophesy glad tidings to Jehoram and his company; until then this could not come about because of his anger against the king, and those who are angered against a man are apt to imagine evil , not good, concerning him. As to the view advanced by some3 that God does not reveal himself to the angry and the gloomy, this has no substance whatsoever. When Moses was angered against Pharaoh, God revealed to him the terrible slaughter of the firstborn (see Exodus ch. I I v. 8) , and this with­ out the assistance of a harp. To Cain, too, in h is rage, God was revealed. To Ezekiel, impatient with anger, was revealed the wretched pl ight and obstinacy of the Jews (see Ezekiel ch. 3 v. 1 4) . Jeremiah, when deeply saddened and utterly weary of life, prophesied the calamities of the Jews, with the result that Josiah re­ fused to consul t him, but instead consulted a woman of h is time, she being more fitted from her feminine character to receive a revelation of God's mercy (2 Chron . ch. 34). Micaiah, too, never prophesied any good to Ahab, though other true prophets did so (as is clear from I Kings ch. 20); throughout his l ife he proph­ esied evil (see I Kings ch. 22 v. 8) and, more clearly, 2 Chron. ch. 18 v. 7). So the prophets were temperamentally more fitted for one kind of revelation rather than another.

Again, the style of prophecy varied according to the manner of speaking of each prophet. The prophecies ofEzekiel and Amos were lacking in refinement, unl ike those of Isaiah and Nahum, which were composed in a cultured style. Any He­ brew scholar who cares to look into this matter more closely, ifhe compares cer-

3 [Here Spinoza alludes to a rabbinIC notion quoted by Maimomdes In Guide 2 36 ]

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tain chapters in the different prophets deal ing with the same subject-matter, will find a considerable stylistic difference. Let him compare the courtly Isaiah's chap­ ter I v. 1 1 -20 with the rustic Amos' chapter 5 v. 2 1-24. Then let him compare the arrangement and logical argument ofJeremiah's prophecy concerning Edom (ch. 49) with the arrangement and logical argument of Obadiah. Let him again compare Isaiah chapter 40 v. 19 , 20 and chapter 44 from v. 8 with Hosea chapter 8 v. 6 and chapter 1 3 v. 2 . These and other passages, when rightly examined, will readily show that God has no particular style of speech , but in accordance with the learning and capacity of the prophet the style was cultured, compressed, stern , unrefined, prolix or obscure.

Prophetic visions and symbol ism, even when conveying the same meaning, varied considerably. For Isaiah and Ezekiel, the glory of the Lord leaving the tem­ ple was represented in different ways. Now the Rabbis maintain that both visions were exactly the same, but that Ezekiel, being a countryman, was struck with a boundless wonder, and so he related the vision in every detail .· However, unless they have received a trustworthy tradition - which I do not believe- this is plainly an invention. Isa iah saw seraphim with six wings, Ezekiel beasts with four wings; Isaiah saw God clothed and sitting on a royal throne, Ezekiel saw him in the l ike­ ness of fire. Doubtless they both saw God as they were wont to imagine him.

Furthermore, there were differences not only in the form taken by revelations but in their clarity. The revelations of Zechariah were too obscure to be under­ stood by him without explanation, as is clear from the narrative. The revelations of Daniel could not be understood by the prophet even when they were expla ined. This obscurity did not arise from any difficulty in the matter to be revealed (for this was concerned with only human affairs, and these do not exceed human ca­ pacity except as relating to the future) but solely from the nature of Daniel's imag­ ination, which was not equally capable of prophecy in waking hours as in sleep. This is evident from the fact that at the very beginning of the revelation he was so terrified that he almost despaired of his strength. So the obscurity of things re­ vealed to him and his failure to understand them even when explained was caused by the inadequacy of h is imagination and his strength. And here it should be noted that the words heard by Daniel , as we have pointed out, were only imaginary; so i t is not surprising that in his state of terror he imagined these words so confus­ edly and obscurely that afterwards he could understand nothing of them. Those who say that God did not wish to make a clear revelation to Daniel appear not to have read the words of the angel, who expressly said (ch. 10 v. 14) , "Now I am come to make thee understand what shall befall thy people in the latter days." So those matters remained obscure because no one was found at that time with suf­ ficient power of imagination to receive a clearer revelation. Lastly, the prophets to whom i t was revealed that God would take away Eli jah tried to convince El­ isha that he had been taken to another place where they might still find him; which clearly proves that they had not understood God's revelation .

4 [ThIS IS another rabbiniC doctnne quoted by MaullOmdes, In Guide 3 .6 . ]

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There is no need to deal with this subject in greater deta il . Scripture makes it absolutely clear that God bestowed a far greater gift of prophecy on one prophet than on another. But I shall show in more detail and at greater length that prophe­ cies or revelations also varied in accordance with the ingra ined bel iefs of the prophets, and that the prophets held various, even contrary bel iefs, and various prejudices. (The matters I refer to concern purely philosophic speculation, for with regard to uprightness and moral ity the case is quite different) This I consider to be a point of some importance, for I shall eventually conclude from i t that the gift of prophecy did not render the prophets more learned, but left them with the beliefs they had previously held, and therefore we are in no way bound to believe them in matters of purely philosophic speculation.

All commentators have displayed an extraordinary eagerness to convince them­ selves that the prophets knew everything atta inable by human intellect; and al­ though certa in passages in Scripture make it absolutely clear that there were some things the prophets did not know, rather than admit that there was anything the prophets did not know, they prefer to declare that they do not understand those passages, or alternatively they strive to twist the words of Scripture to mean what they plainly do not mean. If either of these options is permissible, we can b id Scripture farewell. If that wh ich is absolutely clear can be accounted obscure and incomprehensible or else interpreted at will, i t will be vain for us to try to prove anything from Scripture. For example, nothing in Scripture could be clearer than that joshua, and perhaps the writer who composed his history, thought that the sun goes round the earth and the earth does not move, and that the sun stood still for a time. Yet there are many who, refusing to admit that there can be any mu­ tabil i ty in the heavens, explain this passage so that it means something quite dif­ ferent. Others, who have adopted a more scientific attitude and understand that the earth moves and the sun is motionless or does not revolve around the earth , make every effort to extort this meaning in the teeth of the Scriptural text. Indeed, I wonder at them. Do we have to believe that the soldier joshua was a skilled as­ tronomer, that a miracle could not be revealed to him, or that the sun's l ight could not remain above the horizon for longer than usual without joshua's under­ standing the cause? Both alternatives seem to me ridiculous. I prefer the simple view that joshua did not know the cause of that extension of daylight, and that he and all the host along with him believed that the sun revolves around the earth with a diurnal motion and on that day it stood still for a while, this being the cause of the prolonged daylight. They did not take account of the fact that, as a result of the excessive coldness of the atmosphere at that time (see joshua ch. 10 v. I I ) , there may have been an unusually great refraction of l ight, or someth ing of the sort, which is not our present concern.

Similarly, the sign of the shadow going back was revealed to Isaiah according to h is understanding, namely, through the retrogression of the sun. For he, too, thought that the sun moves and the earth is still. He probably had not the faintest notion of parhelia. We need have no hesitation in maintain ing this view, for the s ign could really have occurred and Isaiah could have predicted it to the king with­ out knowing its true cause.

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As to the building of the Temple by Solomon, if indeed that was revealed to him by God, we must take the same view, namely, that all its measurements were revealed to Solomon in accordance with his understanding and beliefs. As we are not required to believe that Solomon was a mathematician, we may assume that Solomon did not know the ratio between the circumference and diameter of a cir­ cle, and that, in common with ordinary workmen, he thought it was three to one. If it is permissible to declare that we do not understand the text of I Kings ch. 7 v. 23 I do not know what in Scripture we can understand. The narrative of the building of the Temple is there straightforwardly set forth , and as a mere matter of history. Indeed, if i t is permissible to pretend that the writer meant something different, but for reasons unknown to us decided to write in that way, th is is noth­ ing else but the utter ruination of the whole of Scripture. Everyone will have equal right to adopt the same atti tude to every Scriptural passage, and thus whatever hu­ man malice can devise in the way of absurdity and iniquity can be both defended and perpetrated without impairing the authority of Scripture. But the view we are maintaining impl ies no impiety. Solomon, Isaiah, Joshua and the others were in­ deed prophets: but they were also men, subject to human l imitations.

The revelation to Noah that God was destroying the human race was also made in accordance with h is understanding, for he thought that the world beyond Pales­ tine was uninhabited. And not only matters of this kind but other more important matters could have been, and in fact were, beyond the knowledge of the prophets without prejudice to their piety. Their teaching concerning the attributes of God was in no way Singular. Their beliefs about God were shared by the vast majority of their time, and their revelations were accommodated to these beliefS, as I shall show by ample Scriptural testimony. Thus one may easily see that they won such praise and repute not so much for subl imity and pre-eminence of intellect as for p iety and fa ithfulness.

Adam, to whom God was first revealed, did not know that God is omnipresent and omniscient, for he hid from God and attempted to excuse his sin before God as if he had to do with a man. So in his case, too, God was revealed in accordance with his understanding, that is, as one who is not everywhere, and as not knowing where Adam was, or Adam's sin. For Adam heard, or thought he heard, God walk­ ing in the garden, call ing h im and seeking him ou t, and then, seeing his gu il ty bearing, asking him whether he had eaten of the forbidden tree. Therefore Adam knew none of God's attributes except that God was the maker of all things. To Cain, too, God was revealed in accordance with h is understanding, that is, as hav­ ing no knowledge of human affuirs; nor did Cain need to have any h igher con­ ception of God before he could repent of his sin.

To Laban God revealed himself as the God of Abraham, because Laban be­ lieved that every nation had its own special God. See Gen. ch. 31 v. 29. Abraham, too, did not know that God is everywhere and has foreknowledge of all things; for when he heard the sentence against the people of Sodom, he prayed God not to execute the sentence until he knew whether they all deserved that punishment, saying, "Peradventure there be fifty righteous within the city" (Gen. ch. 18 v. 24). Nor did God appear to him differently in revelation, for in Abraham's imagina-

Chapter 2 4 l l

tion God speaks thus, " I will go down now, and see whether they have done alto­ gether according to the cry of it which is come unto me, and if not, I will know." Again, God's testimony concerning Abraham irnplies only that he was obedient and commanded his household to ways of justice and goodness (see Gen. ch. 1 8 v. 19) ; i t does not imply that Abraham's conception of God was rnore sublime than others.

Moses, too, did not completely comprehend that God is ornniscient, and that all human actions are governed solely by God's decree. Although God had told him (Exodus ch. 3 v. 1 8) that the Israelites would hearken to him, he still doubted, and answered (Exodus ch. 4 v. I). "But if they will not believe rne and hearken unto my voice . . . ." So for Moses, too, God was revealed as not determining fu­ ture human actions and unaware of thern; for God gave him two signs, and said (Exodus ch. 4 v. 8), "And it shall corne to pass that if they will not believe the first s ign, they will believe the latter sign; and if they believe not the latter sign, take some waters of the river . . . . " Indeed, if anyone will examine without prejudice what Moses says, he will clearly find that Moses' bel ief about God was th is, that he is a Being who has always existed, exists, and will always exist. That is why he gives God the name Jehovah, which in Hebrew expresses these three tenses of the verb 'to be'. As for God's nature, Moses taught no more than that God is merci­ ful, gracious etc. and extremely jealous, as is evident from many passages in the Pentateuch. Further, he bel ieved and taught that this Being was so different frorn all other beings that he could not be expressed by any image of a visible th ing, nor even beheld, not so much because this was intrinsically impossible as because of human inadequacy; and furthermore he was one alone, or unique, in respect of h is power. Moses did indeed concede that there were beings who (doubtless in accordance with God's arrangement and behest) acted in God's place; that is, be­ ings to whom God gave the authority, righ t and power to guide nations, to look after them and care for them. But he taught that th is Being whom it was their duty to worship was the highest and supreme God, or (to use the Hebrew phrase), the God of Gods. Thus, in the canticle of Exodus (ch. 1 5 v. I I ) he sa id, "Who is l ike unto thee, 0 Lord, among the Gods?" And Jethro says (ch. 1 8 v. I I ) , "Now I know that the Lord is greater than all the Gods; as much as to say, "At last I am forced to admit to Moses that Jehovah is greater than all the gods and his power is with­ out equal ." There is some doubt as to whether Moses believed those beings who acted in God's place were created by God; for he said nothing, as far as we know, about their creation and origin.

He furthermore taught that th is Being had reduced our visible world from chaos to order (Gen. ch. I v. 2) and had given Nature its seeds. He therefore pos­ sesses supreme right and power over things, and (Deut. ch. 1 0 v. 14, 1 5 ) in virtue of this supreme right and power he had chosen the Hebrew nation for h imself alone, together with a certain territory (Deut. ch. 4 v. 19 and ch. 32 v. 8, 9), leav­ ing other nations and lands to the care of other Gods standing in his place. For this reason he was called the God of Israel and the God of Jerusalem (2 Chron . ch. 32 v. 19) , while other Gods were called the Gods of other nations. For th is same reason the Jews believed that the land which God had chosen for himself

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demanded a special form of worship, quite different from that of other lands; in­ deed, it could not suffer the worsh ip of other Gods, a worsh ip belonging to other lands_ I t was believed that those peoples whom the king of Assyria brought into the land of the Jews were torn to pieces by l ions because they knew not the form of worsh ip for the Deity of that land (2 Kings ch. 1 7 v. 2 5 , 26). And according to ibn Ezra , ' when Jacob resolved to seek his native land, it was for this reason that he told h is sons to prepare themselves for a new form of worship and to put away strange Gods, that is, the worship of the Gods of the land where they were then dwell ing (Gen. ch. 35 v. 2 , 3). And David, too, compla ining to Saul that be­ cause of h is persecution he was forced to l ive away from h is native land, said that he was driven out of the heritage of the Lord and sent to worsh ip other Gods ( I Sam. ch . 26 v . 1 9) . And finally, Moses believed that this Being, or God, had h is dwell ing in the heavens (see Deut. ch. 33 v. 27), a beliefwide-spread among the Gentiles.

If we now examine Moses' revelations, we shall find that they were adapted to these beliefs. Since he believed that it was in God's nature to experience those feel ings that I have mentioned- mercy, graciousness and so on-God was re­ vealed to him in conformity with this belief and under these attributes (see Exo­ dus ch. 34 v. 6, 7, where we are told in what manner God appeared to Moses; also the Decalogue v. 4, 5). Again, it is related (Exodus ch. 33 v. 1 8) that Moses asked of God that he might behold h im; but since Moses, as we have said, had formed no image of God in his bra in, and (as I have already shown) God is revealed to the prophets only in accordance with the nature of their imagination, God did not appear to Moses in the form of an image. Th is came about, I repeat, be­ cause Moses' imagination was not receptive to such an image; for other prophets - Isa iah, Ezekiel, Daniel and the rest- testify that they saw God. For th is rea­ son God answered Moses, "Thou canst not see my face"; and since Moses be­ l ieved that God was visible, that is, visibil ity was not in contradiction with the divine nature (for otherwise he would not have made such a request), God add­ ed, "For no one shall look on me and l ive." So God gives a reason in conformity with Moses' beliefs; God does not say that to see h im is in contradiction with the divine nature-as in fact it is- but that it is impossible because of human inadequacy.

Again, in order to reveal to Moses that through worsh ipping the calf the Is­ raelites had now become no different from other nations, God said (Exodus ch. 33 v. 2, 3), that he would send an angel, that is, a being, to take care of the Is­ raelites in place of the Supreme Being, but that he himself would withdraw from them. In this way Moses was left with no grounds for supposing that the Israelites were more beloved of God than the rest of the nations whom God had also en­ trusted to the care of other beings or angels, as is clear from verse 1 6, same chap­ ter. F inally, since it was thought that God dwelt in the heavens, he was revealed

5 [Abraham tbn Ezra ( 1 092-1 167) was one of the leadmg ftgures tn the Spamsh-Jewtsh "Golden Age " He was an outstandmg biblical exegete, noted for hiS rigorous phIlological approach to the text. He was also a good astronomer and mathematiCian and wrote several philosophical treatises J

Chapter 2 4 1 3

as descending from heaven onto a mountain, and Moses even climbed the moun­ tain to speak with God, which he certa inly need not have done ifhe could just as well have imagined God as being everywhere.

The Israelites knew scarcely anything of God, although he was revealed to them. This they made abundantly clear when a few days later they transferred to a calf the honour and worsh ip due to him, believing the calf to be the Deity who had led them out of Egypt. Indeed, i t would be hardly l ikely that men addicted to Egyptian superstition, uncultured and sunk in degrading slavery, should have had any sound understanding of God, or that Moses could have taught them anything more than a moral code-not, indeed, as a ph ilosopher might inculcate the moral i ty that is engendered by freedom of spirit, but as a lawgiver, compelling people to l ive good lives by command oflaw. Therefore the right way of l ife, or tme l iving, and the worsh ip and love of God was for them bondage rather than tme freedom, the grace and gift of God. For Moses commanded them to love God and keep h is Law, to regard their past bleSSings-such as the escape from Egypt­ ian bondage-as bestowed by God; and he further made terrifYing threats if they should transgress these commandments, while promising many blessings if they observed them. So he taught them in the same way as parents teach children who have not reached the age of reason. It is therefore certa in that they had no un­ derstanding of the excellence of virtue and true blessedness.

Jonah thought to flee from the sight of God, which goes to show that he, too, believed that God had entrusted the care of lands outside Judea to other powers, who were nevertheless installed by h im. There is no one in the Old Testament who speaks more rationally of God than Solomon, who possessed the natural l ight of reason beyond all men of h is time. And so he also considered h imself above the Law (for that was given only for men not well endowed with reason and the instruction of the natural intellect) and paid l ittle heed to all the laws regarding the king, consisting of three main articles (see Deut. ch. 17 v. 1 6, 1 7) . Indeed, he plainly violated these laws (in which, however, he did wrong, and by indulgence in pleasures behaved in a way unworthy of a philosopher), and taught that all for­ tune's gifts to mankind are vanity (see Eccl . ) , that men possess nothing more ex­ cellent than understanding, and can suffer no greater punishment than their folly (see Proverbs ch. 16 v. 22) .

But let us return to the prophets, whose different beliefS we have also under­ taken to note. The Rabbis who have bequeathed to us the only extant books of the prophets regarding the sayings of Ezekiel as so irreconcilable with those of Moses (as is narrated in the Treatise of Sabbatus6 ch. I fol. 1 3 p. 2) that they had some thoughts of rejecting his book from the canon, and would doubtless have put it aside if a certa in Hananiah had not undertaken to explain i t. Th is he is said to have accomplished with much labour and zeal (as is there narrated), though it is by no means clear how he did so, whether by writing a commentary which has

6 [The Treatise of Sabbatus-a reference to the Tractate Shabbat of the Babylonian Talrrrud, men­ tioned agam In Chapter 10 1

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perchance perished, or by having the audacity to alter Ezekiel's words and ex­ pressions, embell ishing them as he pleased. However that may be, chapter 1 8 cer­ tainly seems to be at variance with Exodus ch. 34 v. 7, with jeremiah ch. 32 v. 1 8, and other texts.

Samuel believed that God never repents of any decision he has made (see I Sam. ch. 1 5 v. 29); for when Saul repented of h is sin and wished to worship God and seek forgiveness, Samuel said that God would notalter his decree against him. But to jeremiah, on the other hand, it was revealed (see ch. 18 v . 8, 10) that, whether God has decreed good or whether he has decreed evil for any nation, he turns back the decree provided that men also change for the better or worse from the time ofhis sentence. Now joel taught that God repents only of having decreed evil (see joel ch. 2 v. 1 3) . Finally, it is quite clear from Gen. ch. 4 v. 7 that men can overcome the temptations of sin and act righteously; for th is is what was told to Cain-who nevertheless did not overcome those temptations, as is clear from Scripture and from josephus? Th is is obviously in agreement with the chapter of jeremiah just quoted, for it is there said that God repents of his decree pronounced for the good or hurt of men in accordance with their willingness to change their ways and manner ofl ife. But Paul, on the other hand, is quite clear that men have no dominion over the temptations of the flesh save by the special vocation and grace of God. See Epistle to the Romans chapter 9 from verse 10 on. As for his at­ tributing righteousness to God (ch. 3 v. 5 and ch. 6 v. 19), he corrects himself for thus speaking in a merely human fashion and through the fra ilty of the flesh.

So now the point we set out to prove has been made abundantly clear, namely, that God adapted h is revelations to the understanding and bel iefs of the prophets, who may well have been ignorant of matters that have no bearing on charity and moral conduct but concern philosophic speculation, and were in fact ignorant of them, holding confl icting bel iefs. Therefore knowledge of science and of matters spiritual should by no means be expected of them. So we conclude that we must believe the prophets only with regard to the purpose and substance of the revela­ tion; in all else one is free to believe as one will. For example, the revelation of Cain teaches us only that God admonished him to l ive the true l ife, for that alone is the object and substance of the revelation, which does not teach free will or philosophic doctrines.s Therefore, although the wording and the reasoning of admonition seem clearly to imply freedom of the will, we are entitled to hold a contrary opinion, since the wording and reasoning were adapted to Cain's un­ derstanding alone. Similarly, the meaning of the revelation to Micaiah is no more than th is, that God revealed to Micaiah the true issue of the battle between Ahab and Aram, and so this alone we are bound to believe. Whatever else is conta ined in that revelation, concerning the true and false Spirit of God, the heavenly host standing on either side of God, and all the other details of that revelation-all this

7 [Josephus A.D. 37-100. Took part in the revolt of A.D. 66, but surrendered, came over to the Roman Side, and took up reSidence at Rome. HIS maID hIStOrical works are the History of the Jewish War and Antiquities of the Jews. J

8 [Spmoza, Ethics, 2 48-49; Letters 2 and 2 1 ]

Chapter 3 4 1 5

has n o relevance for us, and everyone may believe o f them a s much a s i s i n con­ sonance with h is reason.

With regard to the reasonings whereby God showed to job h is power over all things- if indeed i t is true that th is was revealed to job and that the author's pur­ pose was to compose a h istorical narrative and not, as some believe, to display h is own ideas- the same point must be made, namely, that these arguments were ac­ commodated to job's understanding and propounded to convince him alone. They are not arguments of universal validity to convince all men. The same con­ clusions must be reached regarding the reasonings of Christ whereby he convicts the Pharisees' obstinacy and ignorance and exhorts his disciples to the true life; that is, he adapted his reasonings to the bel iefs and principles of each individual . For example, when he said to the Pharisees (see Matth. ch. 12 v. 26), "And if Sa­ tan cast out Satan, he is divided against h imself; how shall then his kingdom stand?" h is only purpose was to refute the Pharisees according to their own prin­ ciples, not to teach that there are devils, or any kingdom of devils. Similarly, when he said to his disciples (Matth. ch. 18 v. 1 0), "Take heed that ye despise not one of these l ittle ones; for I say unto you that in heaven their angels . . . . " and so on , the point of his teaching is merely a warning against pride and contempt, and not those other details which he brings into his argument only for the better persua­ sion of h is disciples.

Finally, the same point must be made to cover all the sayings and signs of the Apostles, and there is no need for me to deal with these matters at greater length. If[ had to enumerate all the passages of Scripture composed 'ad hominem' - i.e. according to the individual's understanding-and which cannot be upheld as di­ vine doctrine without great prejudice to philosophy, I should depart far from the brevity which is my aim. Let it suffice, then, to have touched on a few instances of general appl ication, and let the zealous reader examine the rest for himself. However, although it is only those points we have made concerning prophets and prophecy that are especially relevant to my main purpose-namely, the differen­ tiation of ph ilosophy from theology-still, as I have touched on this question in a general way, we may weIl go on to enquire whether the gift of prophecy was pe­ culiar to the Hebrews or whether it was shared by other nations; and then what conclusion should be reached regarding the vocation of the Hebrews. This will be the subject of our next chapter.

C HAPTER 3

Of the vocation of the Hebrews, and whether the gift of prophecy was peculiar to them

Everyone's true happiness and blessedness consists solely in the enjoyment of good, not in priding himself that he alone is enjoying that good to the exclusion

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of others_ He who counts himself more blessed because he alone enjoys wellbe­ ing not shared by others, or because he is more blessed and fortunate than others, knows not what is true happiness and blessedness, and the joy he derives there­ from, if it be not mere childishness, has its only source in spite and malice. For example, a man's true happiness and blessedness consists solely in wisdom and knowledge of truth, and not in that he is wiser than others, or that others are with­ out true knowledge. This adds nothing at all to his wisdom, that is, h is true hap­ piness. So he who rejoices for this reason rejoices at another's misfortune, and is therefore spiteful and malicious, knowing neither true wisdom nor the peace of the true life . l

So when Scripture, in exhorting the Hebrews to obey the Law, says that God has chosen them for h imself above all other nations (Deut. ch. 10 v. 1 5 ) , "that he is nigh unto them as he is not unto others" (Deut. ch. 4 v. 4, 7), that for them alone he has ordained just laws (same ch. v. 8), that he has made himself known only to them before all others (same ch. v. 32) and so forth, i t is speaking merely ac­ cording to the understanding of those who, as was shown in the previous chapter and as Moses also testifies (Deut. ch. 9 v. 6, 7), knew not true blessedness. For surely they would have been no less blessed if God had called all men equally to salvation, nor would God have been less close to them for being equally close to others, nor would their laws have been less just or they themselves less wise if those laws had been ordained for all men. Miracles would have displayed God's power no less if they had been wrought for other nations as well , and the Hebrews would have been no less in duty bound to worship God if God had bestowed all these gifts equally upon all men. When God tells Solomon (\ Kings ch. 3 v. 1 2) that no one shall be as wise as he in time to come, this seems to be just a figure ofspeech , intending to signify exceptional wisdom. Be that as it may, it is quite incredible that God should have promised Solomon, for h is greater happiness, that he would never bestow such wisdom on anyone thereafter. This would in no way have in­ creased Solomon's understanding, nor would the wise king have been any the less grateful for such a gift even if God had said that he would bestow the same wis­ dom on all men.

However, although we assert that Moses was speaking to the understanding of the Hebrews in the passages of the Pentateuch just quoted, we do not mean to deny that God ordained those laws in the Pentateuch for them alone, nor that he spoke only to them, nor that the Hebrews witnessed marvels such have never be­ fallen any other nation. Our point is merely th is, that Moses wished to admonish the Hebrews in a particular way, using such reasoning as would bind them more firmly to the worsh ip of God, having regard to the immaturity of their under­ standing. Further, we wished to show that the Hebrews surpassed other nations not in knowledge nor in piety, but in quite a different respect; or (to adopt the language of Scripture directed to their understanding) that the Hebrews were chosen by God above all others not for the true life nor for any h igher under-

1 [Splnoza, Ethics, 4.36-37, 5 42 I

Chapter 3 4 1 7

standing- though often admonished thereto-but for a quite different purpose. What that purpose was, [ shall now proceed to demonstrate.

But before [ begin, [ wish to explain briefly what [ shall hereafter mean by God's direction, by God's help , external and internal, by God's calling, and, finally, by fortune. By God's direction [ mean the fixed and immutable order of Nature, or chain of natural events; for [ have sa id above, and have already shown elsewhere, that the universal laws of Nature according to which all things happen and are determined are nothing but God's eternal decrees, wh ich always involve eternal truth and necessity. So it is the same thing whether we say that all things happen according to Nature's laws or that they are regulated by God's decree and direction '> Again, s ince the power of Nature in its entirety is noth ing other than the power of God through which alone all things happen and are determined, it follows that whatever man -who is also a part of Nature-acquires for himself to help to preserve h is own being, or whatever Nature provides for him without any effort on h is part, all this is provided for him solely by the divine power, acting ei­ ther through human nature or externally to human nature. Therefore whatever human nature can effect solely by its own power to preserve its own being can rightly be called God's internal help, and whatever falls to a man's advantage from the power of external causes can rightly be called God's external help. And from this, too, can readily be deduced what must be meant by God's choosing, for since no one acts except by the predetermined order of Nature-that is, from God's eter­ nal direction and decree- it follows that no one chooses a way of l ife for himself or accompl ishes anything except by the special vocation of God, who has chosen one man before others for a particular work or a particular way ofl ife. Finally, by fortune [ mean simply God's direction insofar as he directs human affairs through causes that are external and unforeseen.

With these prel iminary remarks, let us retum to our purpose, which is to see why it was that the Hebrew nation was said to have been chosen by God before all others. To demonstrate this, [ proceed as follows.

All worthy objects of desire can be classified under one of these three general headings:

I. To know things through their primary causes. 2 . To subjugate the passions; i .e. to acquire the habit of virtue. 3 . To l ive in security and good health.

The means that directly serve for the attainment of the first and second objec­ tives, and can be considered as the proximate and efficient causes, l ie within the bounds of human nature itself, so that their acquisition chiefly depends on hu­ man power alone; i.e. solely on the laws of human nature. For th is reason it is ob­ vious that these gifts are not peculiar to any nation but have always been common to all mankind-unless we entertain the delusion that Nature at some time cre-

2 [Spmoza, Ethics, 1 . 16, 29, 3 3 , especially Schohum 2 ]

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ated different species of men. But the means that serve for the atta inment of se­ curity and physical wellbeing l ie principally in external circumstances, and are called the gifts of fortune because they mainly depend on the operation of exter­ nal causes of wh ich we are in ignorance. So in th is matter the fool and the wise man have about an equal chance of happiness or unhappiness. Nevertheless, much can be effected by human con trivance and vigilance to achieve security and to avoid injuries from other men and from beasts. To this end, reason and ex­ perience have taught us no surer means than to organise a society under fixed laws, to occupy a fixed territory, and to concentrate the strength of all its members into one body, as it were, a social body. 3 However, a qu ite considerable degree of ability and vigilance is needed to organise and preserve a society, and therefore that society will be more secure, more stable and less exposed to fortune, which is founded and governed mainly by men of wisdom and vigilance, while a society composed of men who lack these qualities is largely dependent on fortune and is less stable. If the latter nevertheless endures for some considerable time, th is is to be attributed to some other guidance, not its own . Indeed, if it overcomes great perils and enjoys prosperity, i t cannot fail to marvel at and worship God's guid­ ance (that is to say, insofar as God acts through h idden external causes, and not through the nature and mind of man); for what it has experienced is far beyond its expectation and bel ief, and can truly be regarded even as a miracle.

Through th is alone, then, do nations differ from one another, namely, in re­ spect of the kind of society and laws under which they l ive and are governed. Thus the Hebrew nation was chosen by God before all others not by reason of its un­ derstanding nor of its spiritual qualities, but by reason of its social organisation and the good fortune whereby it achieved supremacy and reta ined it for so many years. This is quite evident from Scripture itself. A merely casual perusal clearly reveals that the Hebrews surpassed other nations in this alone, that they were successful in achieving security for themselves and overcame great dangers, and this chiefly by God's external help alone. In other respects they were no different from other nations, and God was equally gracious to all. For in respect of their understand­ ing (as we have shown in the preceding chapter) it is clear that the Hebrews' ideas of God and Nature were quite commonplace, and so it was not in respect of their understanding that they were chosen by God before others. Nor yet in respect of virtue and the true life, for in this matter again they were on the same footing as other nations, very few of them being chosen . Therefore their election and voca­ tion consisted only in the material success and prosperity of their state; nor do we see that God promised anything other than th is to the Patriarchs· or their suc­ cessors. Indeed, in return for their obedience the Law promises them nothing other than the continuing prosperity of their state and material advantages, whereas disobedience and the breaking of the Covenant would bring about the downfull of their state and the severest hardships. This is not surprising, for the

3 [Splnoza, EthiCS, 4 37, espeCially Schohum 2.J '" See Supplementary Note 4

Chapter 3 4 19

purpose of an organised society and state (as i s clear from what has just been said, and as I shall show at greater length hereafter) is to achieve security and ease. Now a state can subsist only if the laws are binding on all individuals. If all the mem­ bers of one society choose to disregard the laws, by that very fact they will dissolve that society and destroy the state. Therefore, in return for their consistent obser­ vance of the laws, the only promise that could be made to the society of the He­ brews was their security" with its attendant advantages; whereas for disobedience no surer punishment could be foretold than the downfall of their state, accom­ panied not only by the usual unhappy consequences but by additional troubles, peculiar to them, en tailed by the special constitution of their state. This latter point I need not labour at present, but th is I will add, that the laws contained in the Old Testament were revealed and ordained for the Jews alone; for as God chose them only for the establ ish ing of a special kind of society and state, they must also have had laws of a special kind. As to whether God ordained special laws for other nations as well and revealed himself through prophecy for their law­ givers- that is, under those attributes by which they were accustomed to imagine God-I cannot be sure. But this at least is evident from Scripture, that other na­ tions also had their own state and their special laws by God's external guidance. To prove this I shall cite two Scriptural passages only.

In Genesis ch. 14 v. 1 8, 19, 20 it is related that Melch izedek was king of Jerusalem and priest of the Most High God, and in his capacity of priest (Num. ch. 6 v. 23) he blessed Abraham, and Abraham, the beloved of God, gave a tenth part of all his spoils to this priest of God. All this shows well enough that before God founded the nation ofIsrael he had established kings and priests in Jerusalem and had appointed rites and laws for them. Whether he did so through prophecy is, as I have sa id, unclear. But of th is, at least, I am sure, that while Abraham l ived there he l ived religiously according to those laws. For Abraham had not received from God any special rites, and yet it states in Gen. ch. 26 v. 5 that he observed the worship, precepts, statutes and laws of God. This must undoubtedly refer to the worsh ip, precepts, statutes and laws of king Melchizedek. Malachi, in ch. I v. 1 0 , I I rebukes the Jews with these words: "Who is there among you that would shut the doors (of the temple) lest fire be kindled on mine altars for nought? I have no pleasure in you . . . etc. From the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same my name is great among the nations, and everywhere incense is of­ fered unto me, and a pure offering. For my name is great among nations, saith the Lord of hosts." Surely by these words, which can be interpreted as referring only to his present time unless we do violence to the text, he abundantly testifies that the Jews at that time were no more beloved of God than were other nations. In­ deed, he indicates that by his miracles God made himself known to other nations more so than to the Jews of that time-who had then partIy regained their inde­ pendence without miraculous intervention-and that the Gentiles possessed rites and ceremonies by which they were acceptable to God.

* * See Supplementary Note 5

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But I leave these considerations, for it is sufficient for my purpose to have demonstrated that the choosing of the Jews referred only to the following fucts: their temporal material prosperity and freedom - i.e. their pol itical independ­ ence-and to the manner and means whereby they achieved it, and consequently to their laws as well , insofar as these were necessary for the preservation of their special kind of state, and, finally, to the way in which these laws were revealed. But in other matters, wherein consists the true happiness of man, they were on the same footing as other nations. So when Scripture says (Deul. ch. 4 v. 7) that no other nation has its Gods so nigh unto them as the Jews have their God, th is must be understood in respect of independence of their state, and as referring only to the time when so many miracles befell them, and so forth. For in respect of un­ derstanding and virtue, that is, in respect of blessed ness, God is equally gracious to all, as we have already stated and proved by reason . This is also well established from Scripture, for the Psalmist says (Psalm 145 v. 1 8) , "The Lord is nigh to all them that call upon him, to all that call upon him in truth." Likewise in the same Psalm, v. 9, "The Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are over all h is works." In Psalm 33 v. 1 5 i t is clearly stated that God has given the same understanding to all, in these words, "He fashioneth our hearts alike." The Hebrews considered the heart to be the seat of the soul and the understanding, as I think everybody knows. Again, from Job ch. 28 v. 28 it is clear that God ordained this law for the whole human race: to revere God and to abstain from evildoing, i.e. to act right­ eously; and so Job, although a Gentile, was to God the most acceptable of all men, for he surpassed all men in piety and rel igion. Finally, it is quite evident from Jonah ch. 4 v. 2 that not only to the Jews but to all mankind God is gracious, mer­ ciful, long-suffering and abundant in kindness, and loath to punish. For Jonah says, "Therefore I resolved to flee before to Tarshish, for I knew (namely, from the words of Moses, Exodus ch. 34 v. 6) that Thou art a gracious God, merciful . . . etc." and therefore likely to pardon the Ninevites.

We therefore conclude (since God is equally gracious to all and the Hebrews were chosen only with respect to their social organisation and their government) that the individual Jew, considered alone apart from his social organisation and h is government, possesses no gift of God above other men, and there is no differ­ ence between him and a Gentile. Since, then, it is true that God is equally gra­ cious, merciful etc. to all men, and since the function of the prophet was to teach not the special laws of h is country but true virtue, and to admonish men thereto, there is no doubt that all nations possessed prophets and that the gift of prophecy was not peculiar to the Jews. In actual fuct, th is is borne out by history, both sec­ ular and sacred; and although the sacred h istory of the Old Testament does not specify that other nations had as many prophets as the Hebrews, or indeed that any Gentile prophet was expressly sent by God to the nations, this has no signifi­ cance; for the Hebrews were concemed to record their own history, not that of other nations. It is therefore sufficient that in the Old Testament we find that Gen­ tiles and the uncircumcised, such as Noah, Enoch, Abimelech, Balaam etc . , did in fuct prophesy, and furthermore that Hebrew prophets were sent by God not only to their own nation but to many others. Ezekiel prophesied for all nations

Chapter 3 42 1

that were then known. Indeed, as far as we know, Obadiah prophesied only to the Idumaeans, and Jonah was chiefly a prophet to the Ninevites. Isaiah bewails and foretells the calamities, and prophesies the restoration, not only of the Jews but of other nations. In chapter 16 v. 9 he says, "Therefore will I bewail Jazer with weep­ ing," and in chapter 19 he foretells first the calamities of the Egyptians and then their restoration (see same chapter v. 1 9, 20, 2 1 , 2 5 ) . saying that God will send a saviour to free them, that God will make himself known to them, and that the Egyptians will worship God with sacrifices and gifts; and finally he calls that na­ tion the blessed Egyptians, the people of God. All th is is certa inly worthy of spe­ cial note. Lastly, Jeremiah is called the prophet not only of the Hebrew nation but of all nations absolutely (jer. ch. I v. 5). He, too, bemoans the coming calamities of nations and foretells their restoration, for in chapter 48 v. 31 he says of the Moabites, "Therefore will I howl for Moab, I will cry out for all Moab;' and in verse 36, "Therefore mine heart will sound for Moab l ike timbrels"; and he proph­ esies their eventual restoration, as also the restoration of the Egyptians, the Am­ monites and the Elamites.

Therefore there is no doubt that other nations, l ike the Jews, also had their prophets, who prophesied to them and to the Jews. Although Scripture makes mention of only one man, Balaam, to whom was revealed the future of the Jews and of other nations, we should not suppose that Balaam's prophesying was con­ fined to that one occasion; the narrative makes it qu ite clear that he had long been renowned for h is prophecy and other divine gifts. Balak, ordering him to be sum­ moned, said (Num. ch. 22 v. 6), "For I know that he whom thou blessest is blessed, and he whom thou cursest is cursed." So we see that he possessed the same power that God bestowed on Abraham (Gen. ch. 12 v. 3). Then Balaam, as was h is cus­ tom in prophesying, told the messengers to await him until God's will should be revealed to him. When he was prophesying, that is, when he was interpreting the true mind of God, he was wont to say of h imself, "The word of him who hears the words of God, who knows the knowledge (or mind, or foreknowledge) of the Most H igh, who sees the vision of the Almighty, falling into a trance, but having his eyes open." Finally, after blessing the Hebrews by God's command, he began, as was h is custom, to prophesy to other nations and to foretell their future.4

All this abundantly shows that he had always been a prophet, or that he had frequently prophesied, and (another point to be here noted) that he possessed that which especially afforded prophets certa in ty of truth of their prophecy, namely, a mind bent only on that wh ich is good and right. For he neither blessed nor cursed whomsoever he pleased, as Balak thought, but only those whom God willed to be blessed or cursed. That is why he answered Balak, "If Balak should give me h is house full of silver and gold, I cannot go beyond the commandment of the Lord to do good or ill as I will. What the Lord saith , that shall I speak." As for the Lord being angry with him while he was on the way, the same thing befell Moses when

4 [The issue of Balaam, especially the question ofh lS prophetic status, was debated In rabbtnlC hter­ ature Maimonides believed that Balaam was a legitimate prophet (Guide, 2 42, 45) 1

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he was setting out for Egypt at God's command (Exodus ch. 4 v. 24); as to h is re­ ceiving money for prophesying, Samuel did the same (1 Sam. ch. 9 v. 7, 8); and ifhe sinned in any way (see 2 Ep. Peter ch_ 2 v. 1 5 , 16 and Jude v_ 1 1 ) , "there is not a just man on earth who always doeth good and sinneth not" (Ecd. ch. 7 v_ 20) . Indeed, h is prayers must have always had much influence with God and h is power of cursing must have been very considerable, since it is often found in Scripture, as testimony of God's great mercy towards the Israelites, that God would not hearken to Balaam and changed h is cursing to blessing (Deul. ch. 23 v. 6, Josh. ch. 24 v. 10, Nehem. ch. 1 3 v. 2) . He must therefore have been most ac­ ceptable to God, for the prayers and cursings of the wicked move God not at aIL So since he was a true prophet, and yet Joshua (ch . 1 3 v. 22) referred to him as a soothsayer or augur, it is clear that this title, too, was an honourable one, and that those whom the Gentiles called augurs and soothsayers were true prophets, while those whom Scripture often accuses and condemns were false soothsayers, de­ ceiving the Gentiles as false prophets deceived the Jews. And this is also quite clearly established from other passages of Scripture. Therefore we conclude that the gift of prophecy was not pecul iar to the Jews, but was common to all nations_

The Pharisees,s however, vigorously contend that this divine gift was peculiar to their nation, whereas other nations (such is the ingenuity of supersti tion ! ) fore­ told the future with the aid of some diabolical power. The chief evidence they ad­ duce to give authoritative support to this belief is Exodus ch_ 33 v. 1 6, where Moses says to God, "For wherein shall it be known here that I and thy people have found grace in thy sight? Is it not when thou goest with us? So shall we be sepa­ rated, I and thy people, from all the people that are on the face of the earth." From this, I repeat, they would infer that Moses besought God that he should be pres­ ent to the Jews and reveal himself to them by prophecy, and, further, that he should grant this grace to no other nation. Surely, it is absurd that Moses should grudge God's presence to the Gentiles, or that he should have ventured to make such a petition to God. The fact is that when Moses realised the character and the obstinate spirit of his nation, he saw clearly that they could not accomplish their undertaking without mighty miracles and the special external help of God, and must assuredly perish without such help; and so he besought this special ex­ ternal help of God so that it should be evident that God willed them to be saved. For he speaks as follows (ch. 34 v. 9) , "If now I have found favour in thy sight, 0 Lord, let my Lord, I pray thee, go among us, for it is a stiff-necked people . . ." and so on. Thus the reason why he sought God's special external help was the obsti­ nacy of the people, and the fact that Moses sought nothing beyond this special ex­ ternal help is made even clearer by God's answer. For God answered at once

5 [Spmoza's use of the term 'Pharisee' here IS contentious and prejudicial. Although to Chapter 18 Spinoza correctly applies thIS term to a parttcular sect, or party, wlthm the Judaism of the Roman period, here he uses It as a general tenn for all Jews who follow the Oral Law, codIfied m the Mish� nah and commented upon In the Talrrrud. To Chnstians this word connoted a vartety of nega­ tive attitudes derlvtng from the New Testament, espeCially the Gospel of Matthew (see espeCially chapter 23) . J

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(same chapter v. 1 0) , "Behold, I make a covenant, before all thy people I will do marvels such as have not been done in all the earth , nor in any nation . . . ." There­ fore Moses is here concerned with the choosing of the Hebrews only in the way I have explained, and sought nothing else from God.

However, in Paul's Epistle to the Romans I find another text which carries more weight with me, namely, chapter 3 v. 1 , 2 , where Paul's teaching appears to differ from that which we have here presented. He says, "What advantage, then , hath the Jew? Or what profit is there of circumcision? Much every way: chiefly because unto them were committed the oracles of God." But if we have regard to the main doctrine that Paul is concerned to teach, we shall find nothing at vari­ ance with the view we are here presenting; on the contrary, h is doctrine is the same as ours. For in verse 29 of the same chapter he says that God is the God of both Jews and Gentiles, and in chapter 2 v. 2 5 , 26, "If thou be a breaker of the law, thy circumcision is made uncircumcision; on the other hand, if uncircum­ cis ion keep the righteousness of the law, his uncircumcision shall be counted for circumcision." Again, in chapter 3 v. 9 and chapter 4 v. 1 5 he says that all al ike, Jews and Gentiles, were under sin, but that there can be no sin without the com­ mandment and the Law. This makes it quite clear (as we have also shown above from Job ch. 28 v. 28) that to all men without exception was revealed the law un­ der wh ich all men l ived - namely, the law which has regard only to the true virtue, not that law which is established to suit the requirements of a particular state and is adapted to the character of one nation.

Finally, Paul concludes that, since God is the God of all nations- that is, he is equally gracious to all -and since all mankind were equally under the law and under sin, it was for all nations that God sent his Christ to free all men al ike from the bondage of the law, so that no longer would they act righteously from the law's command but from the unwavering resolution of the heart. Thus Paul's teaching coincides exactly with ours. So when he says, "To the Jews alone were entrusted the oracles of God," we should either take it as meaning that only to the Jews were the laws en trusted in writing while to other nations they were communicated by revelation and conception alone, or we must say (since Paul's aim is to refute ob­ jections that could be raised only by the Jews) that Paul is answering in accor­ dance with the understanding and beliefi; of the Jews of that time. For in order to preach that which he had partly seen and partly heard, he was a Greek with the Greeks and a Jew with the Jews.

It now only remains for us to answer the arguments of those who would con­ vince themselves that the election of the Jews was not a temporal matter, con­ cerned only with their commonweal th , but was eternal; for, they say, we see that the Jews still survive in spite of having lost their commonwealth and being scat­ tered all over the world for so many years, separated from all nations; and that this has befallen no other nation. And again, they say, there are many passages of Holy Scripture that appear to tell us that God has chosen the Jews for himself unto eter­ nity; and so, although they have lost their commonweal th , they nevertheless re­ main God's chosen ones. The passages which they th ink most convincing in teaching this eternal election are chiefly the following:

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L Jeremiah chapter 31 v. 36, where the prophet testifies that the seed of Israel shall remain God's people unto eternity, comparing them with the fixed order of the heavens and of Nature.

2 . Ezekiel chapter 20 v. 32 and following, where the prophet apparently means that, although the Jews may deliberately turn away from the worship of God, God will nevertheless gather them together again from all the lands where they are scattered and lead them to the wilderness of peoples, as he led their fa­ thers to the wilderness of Egypt; and from there eventually, after separating them from the rebellious and the transgressors, he will bring them to his Holy Moun­ ta in, where the whole house of Israel shall worship him.

Other passages are also cited , especially by the Pharisees, but I think I shall sat­ isfY everybody if ! reply to these two. This will occasion me no difficulty when I show from Scripture itself that God did not choose the Hebrews unto eternity, but only on the same terms as he had earlier chosen the Canaanites. These also had priests (as I have shown above) who devoutly worshipped God, and yet God re­ jected them because oftheir dissolute l iving, their folly, and their corrupt worship . For Moses (Lev. ch. 1 8 v . 27, 28) warns the Israelites not to defile themselves with abominations l ike the Canaanites, lest the land spew them out as it had spewed out those peoples that used to dwell there. And in Deuteronomy ch. 8 v. 1 9 , 20 he threatens them with utter destruction in the plainest possible terms, speaking as follows, "I testifY against you this day that ye shall surely perish; as the nations which the Lord destroyed before your face, so shall ye perish." And many other passages to this effect are to be found in the Law, expressly indicating that God did not choose the Hebrew nation absolutely, nor unto eternity. So if the prophets foretold for them a new, eternal covenant involving the knowledge, love and grace of God, it can be easily proved that this promise was made for the godly alone. For in that same chapter of Ezekiel which we have just quoted i t is expl icitly stated that God will cut offfrom them the rebell ious and the transgressors; and in Zepha­ niah chapter 3 v. 1 1 , 12 that God will take from their midst the proud, leaving behind the poor. And since this election has regard to true virtue, it is not to be imagined that it was promised only to the godly among the Jews to the exclusion of all others. We must evidently believe that the true Gentile prophets, whom we have shown to be found among all nations, made the same promise to the faith­ ful of their own nations and comforted them thereby. Therefore this eternal covenant involving the knowledge and love of God is universal, as is clearly shown from Zephaniah chapter 3 v. 1 0, I I , so that in this respect no difference can be granted between Jews and Gentiles, nor therefore any special election of the Jews beyond that which we have already indicated.

As to the fact that the prophets, in speaking of this election which refers only to true virtue, intermingled many sayings regarding sacrifices and other cere­ monies and the rebuilding of the Temple and the city, such figurative expressions, after the manner and nature of prophecy, were intended to convey a spiritual mes­ sage, so that they might also indicate to the Jews, whose prophets they were, the impending restoration of their commonwealth and temple, to be expected at the

Chapter 3 42 5

time of Cyrus. Therefore at the present time there is nothing whatsoever that the Jews can arrogate to themselves above other nations.

As to their continued existence for so many years when scattered and stateless, this is in no way surprising, since they have separated themselves from other nations to such a degree as to incur the hatred of all, and this not only through external rites alien to the rites of other nations but also through the mark of cir­ cumcision, which they most religiously observe. That they are preserved largely through the hatred of other nations is demonstrated by historical fuct. When the King of Spain forrnerly compelled the Jews to embrace the rel igion of h is king­ dom or else to go into exile, a considerable number ofjews accepted Catholicism. Now since all the privileges of native Spaniards were granted to those who em­ braced their rel igion, and they were then considered worthy of full civic rights, they were so speedily assimilated to the Spaniards that after a short while no trace of them was left, nor any remernbrance. But just the opposite fate befell those whom the King of Portugal compelled to embrace his country's rel igion. Although converted to this rel igion, they l ived on their own, because the king declared thern unworthy of civic r igh ts 6

The mark of circumcision, too, I consider to be such an importan t fuctor in this matter that I am convinced that this by itself will preserve their nation forever. Indeed, were it not that the fundarnental principles of their religion discourage manl iness, I would not hesitate to believe that they will one day, given the op­ portunity-such is the mutability of human affuirs- establish once more their in­ dependent state, and that God will again choose them.' The Ch inese afford us an outstanding exarnple of such a possibil ity. They, too, religiously observe the custom of the pigtail which sets them apart from all other people, and they have preserved thernselves as a separate people for so many thousands of years that they far surpass all other nations in antiquity. They have not always maintained their independence, but they did regain it after losing it, and will no doubt recover it again when the spirit of the Tartars becomes enfeebled by reason ofluxurious l iv­ ing and sloth.

In conclusion, should anyone be disposed to argue that the Jews, for th is rea­ son or any other, have been chosen by God unto eternity, I shall not oppose him, provided that he holds that this election, be it temporal or eternal, insofar as it is peculiar to the Jews, is concerned only with the nature of their commonwealth

6 [Spmoza tries to make a dlstmction between the InqUisition In Spam and the one in Portugal. But he overestllnates the openness of SpanISh society and government to converted Jews. Not too long after the estabhshment of the InqU iSItion In Spam, "laws of blood punty" were passed to prevent converted Jews fromobtammg Important POSitiOns In Spamsh government and In the church. Many Spamsh JewiSh converts attempted to preserve secretly some aspects of JeWIsh behef and practice while they led ChrIStian lives to pubhc.]

7 [ThIS passage has had an mterestmg "hIStory." Some of the early ZIOnist theorehcians and leaders (e .g., DaVid ben Gunan) saw m thIS passage htnts of the revtval of an tndependent JeWish state grounded In a secular Ideology. I t IS htghly unhkely, however, that Spmoza himself had any such thoughts 1

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and their material welfare (since this is the only distinguishing mark between one nation and another); whereas in respect of understanding and true virtue there is no distinction between one nation and another, and in regard to these matters God has not chosen one nation before another.

C HAPTER 4

Of the Divine Law

The word law, taken in its absolute sense, means that according to which each individual th ing-either all in general or those of the same kind- act in one and the same fixed and determinate manner, th is manner depending either on Nature's necessity or on human will . A law which depends on Nature's neces­ sity is one wh ich necessarily follows from the very nature of the th ing, that is, its definition; a law which depends on human will , and which could more prop­ erly be termed a statute [ius ] , is one which men ordain for themselves and for others with view to making life more secure and more convenient, or for other reasons.

For example, the fact that all bodies colliding with smaller bodies lose as much of their own motion as they impart to other bodies is a universal law governing all bodies, and follows from Nature's necessity. Similarly, the fact that a man, in remembering one thing, forthwith calls to mind another l ike it, or which he has seen along with it, is a law that necessarily follows from the nature of man. But the fact that men give up, or are compelled to give up, their natu­ ral right and bind themselves to l ive under fixed rules, depends on human w il l . And although I grant that, in an absolute sense, all th ings are determined by the universal laws of Nature to exist and to act in a definite and determinate way, l I still say that these latter laws depend on human will . My reasons are as follows:

I. Man, insofur as he is part of Nature, constitutes a part of the power of Nature. Thus whatever follows from the necessity of man's nature-that is, from Nature as we conceive her to be determinately expressed in man's nature-follows from human power, even though it does so necessarily. Therefore the enacting of these man-made laws may quite legitimately be said to depend on human will, for it depends especially on the power of the human mind in the following respect, that the human mind, insofur as it is concerned with the perception of truth and fulsity, can be quite clearly conceived without these man-made laws, whereas it cannot be conceived without Nature's necessary law, as defined above.

2. We ought to define and explain things through their proximate causes. Gen­ eral isations about fate and the interconnection of causes can be of no service to

1 [Spmoza, Ethics, 1 . 29, l l ]

Chapter 4 427

us in forming and ordering our thoughts concerning particular things. Further­ more, we plainly have no knowledge as to the actual co-ordination and intercon­ nection of th ings-that is, the way in which things are in actual fact ordered and connected-so that for practical purposes it is better, indeed, it is essential, to con­ sider things as contingent. So much for law taken in the absolute sense.

Still, i t seems to be by analogy that the word law is appl ied to natural phe­ nomena, and ordinarily 'law' is used to mean simply a command which men can either obey or disobey, inasmuch as it restricts the total range of human power within set l imits and demands noth ing that is beyond the capacity of that power. So it seems more fitting that law should be defined in its narrower sense, that is, as a rule of l ife wh ich man prescribes for himself or for others for some purpose. However, since the true purpose of law is usually apparen t only to the few and is generally incomprehensible by the great majority in whose l ives reason plays l i t­ tle part, in order to constrain all men al ike legislators have wisely devised another motive for obedience, far different from that which is necessarily entailed by the nature of law. For those who uphold the law they promised what most appeals to the masses, while threatening transgressors with dire retribution, thus endeavour­ ing to keep the multitude on a curb, as far as is practicable. Thus it came about that law was mainly regarded as rules of conduct imposed on men through the su­ premacy of others, and consequently those who obey the law are said to live un­ der the law and appear to be in bondage. And in truth he who renders to each h is own through fear of the gallows is constrained in his action by another's command and threat of punishment, and cannot be called a just man. But he who renders to each his own through awareness of the true principle of law and its necessity, is acting steadfastly and at his own will, not another's, and so he is rightly termed a just man. This I take to be Paul's intended meaning when he said that those who l ived under the law could not be justified through the law; for justice, as com­ monly defined, is the steadfast and constan t will to render to each his own. It is for this reason, too, that Solomon said in Proverbs ch. 21 v. 1 5 , "It is a joy to the just when judgment is done; but the workers of iniqUity are in fear."

So since law is simply a rule of conduct which men lay down for themselves or for others to some end, it can be divided into human and divine law. By human law I mean a prescribed rule of conduct whose sole aim is to safeguard life and the com­ monwealth; by divine law I rnean that which is concerned only with the supreme good, that is, the true knowledge and love of God. This law I call divine because of the nature of the supreme good, which I shall now briefly explain as clearly as I can.

Since our intellect forms the better part of us, it is evident that, if we wish to seek what is definitely to our advantage, we should endeavour above all to perfect it as far as we can , for in its perfection must consist our supreme good. Now since all our knowledge, and the certainty that banishes every possible doubt, depend solely on the knowledge of God -because, firstly, without God nothing can be or be conceived, and secondly, everything can be called into doubt as long as we have no clear and distinct idea of God2-i t follows that our supreme good and

2 [SplnOza, Ethics, 1 . 1 5 ; TIE, 39, 49, 79 1

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perfection depends solely on the knowledge of God. Again, since nothing can be or be conceived without God, it is clear that everything in Nature involves and expresses the conception of God in proportion to its essence and perfection; and therefore we acquire a greater and more perfect knowledge of God as we gain more knowledge of natural phenomena. To put it another way, since the knowl­ edge of an effect through its cause is nothing other than the knowledge of a prop­ erty of that cause, the greater our knowledge of natural phenomena, the more perfect is our knowledge of God's essence, which is the cause of all th ings. So the whole of our knowledge, that is, our supreme good, not merely depends on the knowledge of God but consists entirely therein. This also follows from the prin­ Ciple that man's perfection is the greater, or the reverse, according to the nature and perfection of the th ing that he loves above all others. So he who loves above all the intellectual cognition of God, the most perfect Being, and takes especial delight therein, is necessarily most perfect, and partakes most in the highest blessedness.

This, then, is the sum of our supreme good and blessedness.' to wit, the knowl­ edge and love of God. So the means required to achieve this end of all human action- that is, God insofar as h is idea exists in us-may be termed God's com­ mands, for they are ordained for us by God himself, as it were, insofar as he exists in our minds. So the rules for living a life that has regard to this end can fitly be called the Divine Law. An enqu iry as to what these means are, and what are the rules of conduct required for this end, and how there follow therefrom the fun­ damental principles of the good commonwealth and social organisation , belongs to a general treatise on Ethics_ Here my discussion will be confined to a general consideration of the Divine Law.

Since the love of God is man's highest happiness and blessedness, and the fi­ nal end and aim of all human action, it follows that only he observes the Divine Law who makes it his object to love God not through fear of punishment nor through love of some other th ing such as sensual pleasure, fame and so forth, but from the mere fact that he knows God, or knows that the knowledge and love of God is the supreme good. So the sum of the Divine Law and its chief command is to love God as the supreme good; that is, as we have said, not from fear of some punishment or penalty nor from love of some other thing from wh ich we desire to derive pleasure. For this truth is told us by the idea of God, that God is our supreme good, i.e. that the knowledge and love of God is the final end to which all our actions should be directed. But carnal man cannot understand these th ings; he th inks them foolish because he has too stunted a knowledge of God, and in this supreme good, i t does only in philosophic th inking and pure activity of mind, he finds nothing to touch, to eat, or to feed the fleshly appetites which are h is chief delight But those who recognise that they have no more precious gift than intellect and a sound mind are sure to regard these as very substantial blessings.

, [Ethic<, 5 .24--27, 30-33 J

Chapter 4 429

We have now explained the essential nature of the Divine Law, and have de­ fined human laws as all those which have a different aim. But from the latter cat­ egory we must except laws that have been sanctioned by revelation, for in th is case, too, th ings are referred to God, as we have already shown. And in this sense the Law of Moses, although it was not of universal application but specially adapted to the character and preservation of one particular people, can nevertheless be termed the Law of God, or Divine Law, since we believe it to have been sanc­ tioned by prophetic insight.

If we now consider the nature of the natural Divine Law as we have just ex­ plained it, we shall see:

I. That it is of universal application, or common to all mankind. For we have deduced it from human nature as such .

2. That it does not demand belief in historical narratives of any kind whatso­ ever. For since it is merely a consideration of human nature that leads us to th is natural Divine Law, evidently it appl ies equally to Adam as to any other man, and equally to a man l iving in a community as to a hermit. Nor can the belief in his­ torical narratives, however certain, give us knowledge of God, nor, consequently, of the love of God. For the love of God arises from the knowledge of God, a knowl­ edge deriving from general axioms that are certain and self-evident, and so belief in h istorical narratives is by no means essential to the atta inment of our supreme good. However, although belief in h istorical narratives cannot afford us the knowl­ edge and love of God, I do not deny that their study can be very profitable in the matter of social relations. For the more we observe and the better we are ac­ quainted with the ways and manners of men-and it is their actions that best pro­ vide this knowledge-the more prudently we can l ive among them, and the more effectively we can adapt our actions and conduct to their character, as far as rea­ son allows.

3 . We see that the natural Divine Law does not enjoin ceremonial rites, that is, actions which in themselves are of no Significance and are termed good merely by tradition, or which symbolise some good necessary for salvation, or, if you prefer, actions whose explanation surpasses human understanding. For the natural l ight of reason enjoins nothing that is not within the compass of reason, but only what it can show us quite clearly to be a good, or a means to our blessedness. The things whose goodness derives only from authority and tradition, or from their symbol ic representation of some good, cannot perfect our intellect; they are mere shadows, and cannot be counted as actions that are, as it were, the offspring and fruit of in­ tellect and sound mind. There is no need for me to go further into this matter.

4. Finally, we see that the supreme reward of the Divine Law is the law itself, namely, to know God and to love him in true freedom with all our heart and mind. The penalty it imposes is the deprivation of these things and bondage to the flesh , that is, an inconstant and irresolute spirit.

Having made these points, we must now enquire:

I . Whether by the natural l igh t of reason we can conceive God as a lawgiver or ruler, ordaining laws for men.

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2. What is the teaching of Holy Scripture conceming this natural l ight and law.

3 . For what purpose were ceremonial rites originally instituted. 4. What good is served by knowing the sacred historical narratives, and by be­

l ieving them.

The first two questions I shall discuss in this chapter, reserving the last two for the next chapter.

Our conclusion as to the first question is easily deduced from the nature of God's will, which is not distinct from h is intellect except from the perspective of human reason. That is to say, God's will and God's intellect4 in themselves are in reality one and the same thing; they are distinct only in relation to the thoughts we form when we think of God's intellect. For example, when we have regard only to the fact that the nature of a triangle is eternally contained in the divine nature as an etemal truth, then we say that God has the idea of a triangle, or that he un­ derstands the nature of a triangle. But when thereafter we consider the fact that it is solely from the necessity of the divine nature, and not from the necessity of the essence and nature of a triangle, that the nature of a triangle is thus contained in the divine nature- or rather, the necessity of the essence and properties of a triangle, insofur as they are also conceived as eternal truths, depends not on the nature of a triangle but solely on the necessity of the divine nature and intellect­ then that wh ich we termed God's intellect we call God's will or decree. There­ fore in respect of God our affirmation is one and the same, whether we say that God has etemally willed and decreed that the three angles of a triangle should be equal to two right angles, or that God has understood this fact.

Hence it follows that God's affirmations and negations always involve etemal necessity or truth. So if, for example, God said to Adam that he willed that Adam should not eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, it would have been a con­ tradiction in terms for Adam to be able to eat of that tree. And so it would have been impossible for Adam to eat of it, because that divine decree must have in­ volved etemal necessity and truth. However, since Scripture tells us that God did so command Adam, and that Adam did nevertheless eat of the tree, it must be ac­ cepted that God revealed to Adam only the punishment he must incur if he should eat of that tree; the necessary entailment of that punishment was not revealed. Consequently, Adam perceived this revelation not as an eternal and nec­ essary truth but as a law, that is to say, an enactment from which good or ill con­ sequence would ensue not from the intrinsic nature of deed performed but only from the will and absolute power of some ruler. Therefore that revelation, solely in relation to Adam and solely because of the limitations of his knowledge, was a law, and God was a kind oflawgiver or ruler. For this same reason, namely, their lack of knowledge, in relation to the Hebrews alone the Decalogue was a law; for,

4 IEthi",, 1 . 32 . J

Chapter 4 43 1

not knowing God's existence as an eternal truth, it was inevitable that they should have perceived as a law what was revealed to them in the Decalogue, namely, that God existed, and that God alone must be worshipped. But if God had spoken to them directly, employing no physical means, they would have perceived this not as a law, but as an eternal truth.

What we are here saying about the Israelites and Adam also appl ies to all the prophets who laid down laws in God's name; they did not perceive God's decrees adequately, as eternal truths. For example, in the case of Moses, too, we have to say that, as a result of revelation or basic principles revealed to him, he perceived a way by wh ich the people of lsrael could well be united in a particular territory to form a political union or state, and also a way by which that people could well be constra ined to obedience. But he did not perceive, nor was it revealed to him, that th is way was the best of all ways, nor that the end for which they were striv­ ing would be a consequence necessarily entailed by the general obedience of the people in such a territory. Therefore he perceived all these things not as eternal truths, but as instructions and precepts, and he ordained them as laws of God. Hence i t came about that he imagined God as a ruler, lawgiver, king, merciful, just and so forth; whereas these are all merely attributes of human nature, and not at all appl icable to the divine nature.

Now what I have said applies only to the prophets who laid down laws in God's name, but not to Christ. With regard to Christ, although he also appears to have laid down laws in God's name, we must maintain that he perceived things truly and adequately; for Christ was not so much a prophet as the mouthpiece of God. I t was through the mind of Christ (as we showed in Chapter I) that God made revelations to mankind just as he once did through angels, i .e. through a created voice, visions etc. Therefore to maintain that God adapted his revelation to Chrisfs beliefS would be equally irrational as to maintain that God formerly adapted h is revelations to the bel iefS of angels in communication, that is, to the beliefs of a created voice and visions, so as to communicate to the prophets what was to be revealed. Th is would be the height of absurdity, especially so since Christ was sent to teach not only the Jews but the en tire human race. Thus i t was not enough for him to have a mind adapted to the beliefS of the Jews alone; h is mind had to be adapted to the beliefs and doctrines held in common by all mankind, that is, to those axioms that are universally true. And surely this fact, that God revealed h imself to Christ, or to Chrisfs mind, directly, and not through words and images as in the case of the prophets, can have only th is meaning, that Christ perceived truly, or understood, what was revealed. For it is when a thing is perceived by pure thought, without words or images, that it is understood . 5

Christ, then, perceived truly and adequately the thing> revealed to h im; so i f ever he procla imed these thing> a s law, he d id so because of the people's igno­ rance and obstinacy. Therefore in th is matter he acted in God's place, adapting

, [Ethi .. , 2.40, Schohum 2 J

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himself to the character of the people_ So although his sayings were somewhat clearer than those of other prophets, his teaching of things revealed was still ob­ scure and quite often took the form of parables, especially when he was address­ ing those to whom it had not yet been granted to understand the kingdom of Heaven (see Matth. ch. 1 3 v. 1 0 , and If.) . But doubtless, to those to whom it was granted to know the mysteries of Heaven, his teaching took the form of eternal truths, not of prescribed laws. In th is way he freed them from bondage to the law, while nevertheless giving further strength and stabil ity to the law, inscribing it deep in their hearts.

Paul, too, appears to be making the same point in certa in passages, namely, in his Epistle to the Romans, chapter 7 v. 6 and chapter 3 v. 28. Yet he, too, is un­ willing to speak openly, but, as he says in the same Epistle chapter 3 v. 5 and in chapter 6 v. 1 9 he speaks only after the manner of men. This he expressly states when he calls God just, and it was undoubtedly in concession to the frailty of the flesh that he also ascribes to God mercy, grace, anger, and so forth, adapting h is words to the character of the common people, or (as he also says in the First Epis­ tle to the Corinthians, chapter 3 v. I , 2) to the character of carnal man. For in the Epistle to the Romans chapter 9 v. 18 he tells us outright that God's anger and mercy depend not on man's works but on God's vocation, that is, his will; and fur­ ther, that no one is justified from the works of the law, but only from faith (see Epistle to the Romans chapter 3 v. 28), by which he surely means noth ing other than the full consent of the mind. Lastly, he says that no one becomes blessed un­ less he has in himself the mind of Christ (Rom. ch. 8 v. 9), meaning that he would thereby perceive the laws of God as eternal truths.

We therefore conclude that it is only in concession to the understanding of the mul titude and the defectiveness of their thought that God is described as a law­ giver or ruler, and is called just, merciful and so on, and that in reality God acts and governs all things solely from the necessity of h is own nature and perfection , and his decrees and volitions are eternal truths, always involving necessity.6 So much for the first point I had proposed to explain and demonstrate.

Let us, then, pass on to the second point, and perusing the Holy Writ, let us see what it tells us concerning the natural l igh t of reason and this Divine Law. The first thing we encounter is the narrative of the first man, where we are told that God forbade Adam to eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Th is seems to mean that God commanded Adam to do good and to seek it for its good­ ness, not insofar as it is contrary to evil; that is, to seek good from love of good, and not from fear of evil . For, as we have shown , he who does good from true knowl­ edge and love of good acts freely and with a steadfast mind, whereas he who does good from fear of evil acts under constra int of evil , in bondage, and lives under another's sway. This single command given by God to Adam comprehends the natural Divine Law in its entirety, and is in absolute agreement with the dictates

6 IEthi",, 1 . 16 . J

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of the natural l igh t of reason. It would not be difficult to explain on this basis the whole narrative or parable of the first man, but I refrain from so doing for two rea­ sons. First, I cannot be absolutely sure that my explanation would be in agree­ ment with the author's intention ; secondly, there are many who do not grant that this narrative is a parable, firmly maintaining that it is a straightforward account of fact.

I t will therefore be better to adduce other passages of Scripture, especially the words of one who speaks from the power of the natural l ight wherein he surpassed all the sages of his time, one whose sayings have been accepted by the people as having the same sanctity as those of the prophets. I refer to Solomon, who is com­ mended in the Scriptures not so much for prophecy and piety as for prudence and wisdom. In h is Proverbs he calls man's intellect the fount of true l ife, and regards misfortune as consisting only in folly. Thus, he says in chapter 16 v. 22, "Under­ standing (is) a wellspring of l ife to him that hath it,' and the punishment of fools is their folly." Here it should be noted that in Hebrew the word 1 ife' without qual­ ification signifies 'true life', as is clear from Deuteronomy chapter 30 v. 19 . He thus identifies the fruit of intellect with true l ife alone, its privation being itself a punishment, in complete agreement with our remarks on the fourth point con­ cerning the Divine Law. That th is fountain of l ife, i.e. the intellect alone, pre­ scribes laws for the wise-as we have also shown - is plainly taught by this same sage. For he says in chapter 1 3 v. 14, "The law of the wise is a fountain of life; that is, as is clear from the text just quoted, the intellect. Again, in chapter 3 v. 1 3 h e tells us most expl icitly that the intellect makes a man blessed and happy and affords true peace of mind. For he says, "Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the son of man that getteth understanding." Th is is because, as he goes on to say in v. 1 6, 1 7 , "Length of days" is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways" (that is, the ways pointed out by knowledge) "are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." So Solomon, too, holds the opinion that only the wise l ive with tranquil and steadfast mind, unl ike the wicked, whose minds are agitated by conflicting emotions; and so (as Isaiah, too, says in chapter 57 v. 20) they have neither peace nor rest.

Finally, we should particularly note the passages in the second chapter of the Proverbs of Solomon, which most clearly confirm our view. For in verse 3 of that chapter he begins thus, "If thou criest after knowledge and l iftest up thy voice for understanding . . . then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord and find knowl­ edge of the Lord." ('Knowledge' may perhaps be 'love', for the Hebrew word 'Jadah' can have both meanings . ) "For the Lord" (note well) "giveth wisdom. Out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding." By these words he is surely indicating as clearly as can be, first, that only wisdom or intellect teaches us to fear

... Latm-domini. A Hebrew Idiom. That which possesses something, or contams It In its nature, is called lord of that thmg. Thus a bud IS called lord of wmgs In Hebrew, because it possesses wings; an mtelhgent bemg is called lord of mtellect, because It possesses mtellect.

"' ''' A Hebrew idiom, meamng Simply 'life:

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God wisely, that is, to worship him with true devotion ; and secondly, that wisdom and knowledge flow from the mouth of God and God bestows th is upon us. Th is is the point we have also demonstrated above, namely, that our intellect and knowledge depend solely on the idea or our understanding of God, and spring from it and are perfected by i t. Then Solomon goes on to say most expl icitly, in verse 9, that th is knowledge includes the true principles of Ethics and Pol itics, which can be deduced therefrom. "Then shalt thou understand righteousness and judgment and equity, yea , every good path." Not content with this, he con­ tinues, "When wisdom entereth into thy heart and knowledge is pleasant unto thy soul, discretion' shall preserve thee, and understanding shall keep thee." All this is plainly in accord with natural knowledge, for it is natural knowledge that teaches us ethics and true virtue, once we have arrived at the knowledge of things and have tasted the excellence of understanding.

Thus Solomon, too, takes the view that the happiness and peace of the man who cultivates h is natural understanding depends mainly not on the sway of for­ tune (that is, on God's external help) but on his own internal virtue (or God's in­ ternal help), because he owes h is self-preservation mainly to h is own vigilance, conduct and wise counsel.

Finally, we must here by no means omit the passage in Paul's Epistle to the Romans chapter I v. 20, where he speaks thus (as Tremellius translates from the Syriac text), "For the invisible things of God frorn the creation of the world are clearly seen through the intellect in the things that are made, even his power and his Godhead which is unto eternity, so that they are without excuse." Here he quite clearly indicates that, by the natural l igh t of reason, all can clearly under­ stand the power and eternal divinity of God, from which they can know and in­ fer what they should seek and what they should avoid. So he concludes that all are without excuse and cannot plead ignorance, which they could assuredly do if he were speaking of a supernatural l ight, and of the passion and resurrection of Christ in the flesh, and so forth. And he therefore continues a l ittle later at verse 24 as follows, "Therefore God gave them up to the unclean lusts of their hearts . . ." through the rest of the chapter, describ ing the vices of ignorance and setting thern forth as the punishment of ignorance. This is plainly in accord with the Proverbs of Solomon, chapter 1 6 v. 22, which we have already quoted, "The punishment of fools is their folly." I t is not surprising, then, that Paul says that the wicked are without excuse. For as each sows, so shall he reap; out of evil , unless it be wisely corrected, evil inevitably follows, and out of good, good, if hearts be steadfast.

Therefore Scripture unreservedly comrnends the natural l ight and the natural Divine Law. And with this I have completed the task undertaken in this chapter.

'" The Hebrew word 'mezima' properly means thought, deliberation and Vigilance

Chapter 5 43 5

C HAPTER 5

Of the reason for the institution of ceremonial observances. Belief in the Biblical narratives: in what way

and for whom it is necessary

In the previous chapter we showed that the Divine Law, which makes men truly blessed and teaches the true l ife, is of universal application to all men. Indeed, our method of deducing it from human nature shows that it must be considered as innate in the human mind and inscribed therein , as i t were. Now ceremonial observances- those, at least, that are laid down in the Old Testament- were instituted for the Hebrews alone, and were so adapted to the nature of their gov­ ernment that they could not be practised by the individual but involved the com­ munity as a whole. So i t is evident that they do not pertain to the Divine Law, and therefore do not contribute to blessedness and virtue. They have regard only to the election of the Hebrews, that is (as we demonstrated in Chapter 3), to their temporal and material prosperity and peaceful government, and therefore could have been of practical value only while their state existed. If in the Old Testament we find them included in God's law, this can only be because they owed their in­ stitution to revelation, or to principles revealed therein. However, since reason , be it of the soundest, carries l ittle weight with the common run of theologians, I now intend to confirm by Scriptural authority what we have just demonstrated; and then, for greater clarity, I shall go on to show how and why ceremonial ob­ servances served to strengthen and preserve the Jewish state.

Of all Isaiah's teachings nothing is clearer than this, that the Divine Law, taken in a strict sense, signifies not ceremonial observance, but the universal law that con­ sists in the true way of life. In chapter I v. 1 0, where the prophet calls upon his countrymen to hear from him the Divine Law, he first excludes from it sacrifices of every kind and all festivals, and then goes on to teach the law itself (see verses 1 6, 17) which he summarises under these few headings: cleanliness of heart, the habit or practice of virtue, or good actions, and succouring the helpless. Testimony no less striking is given by the passage in Psalm 40 v. 6, 8, where the Psalmist ad­ dresses God, "Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire, mine ears hast thou opened;" burnt offering and Sin-offering hast thou not required; I delight to do thy will, a my God; yea, thy law is within my heart." So it is only what is inscribed in the heart, or mind, that the Psalmist calls God's law, and he excludes from it cere­ monial observances; for the latter are good not by nature but by convention, and so are not inscribed in the heart. Besides these passages, Scripture contains others giving the same testimony, but it is enough to have cited these two.

'" A Hebrew expressiOn signifying understanding.

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The fact that the observance of ceremonies has regard only to the temporal pros­ perity of the state and in no way contributes to blessedness is also evident from Scripture, which for ceremonial observance promises nothing but material ad­ vantages and pleasures, while blessedness is promised only for observance of the universal Divine Law. In the five books commonly attributed to Moses the only promise made, as I have already said, is worldly success-honours or fame, victory, riches, l ife's pleasures and health. And although these five books contain much about moral teaching as well as ceremonial observance, these passages are not set forth as moral teachings of universal appl ication to all men, but as commands par­ ticularly adapted to the understanding and character of only their state. For exam­ ple, it is not as a teacher or prophet that Moses forbids the Jews to kill or to steal ; it is as a lawgiver or ruler that he issues these commands. He does not justify h is pre­ cepts by reasoning, but attaches to his commands a penalty, a penalty which can vary, and must vary, to suit the character of each single nation, as we well know from experience. So, too, his command not to commit adul tery has regard only to the good of the commonwealth and state. Ifhe had intended this to be a moral pre­ cept that had regard not merely to the good of the commonwealth but to the peace of mind and the true blessedness of the individual, he would have condemned not merely the external act but the very wish, as did Christ, who taught only universal moral precepts (see Matth. ch. 5 v. 28). It is for this reason that Christ promises a spiritual reward, not, l ike Moses, a material reward. For Christ, as I have said, was sent not to preserve the state and to institute laws, but only to teach the universal law. Hence, we can readily understand that Christ by no means abrogated the law of Moses, for it was not Chris�s purpose to introduce new laws into the common­ wealth. His chief concern was to teach moral doctrines, keeping them distinct from the laws of the commonwealth. This was mainly on account of the ignorance of the Pharisees, who thought that the blessed life was his who observed the laws of the commonwealth, i .e. the law of Moses; whereas, in fact, this law concerned only public good, and its aim was to coerce the Hebrews rather than instruct them.

But let us return to our theme, and cite other passages of Scripture which prom­ ise for ceremonial observance nothing but material benefits, reserving blessedness solely for the universal Divine Law. None of the prophets spoke more clearly on this subject than Isaiah. In chapter 58 , after his condemnation of hypocrisy he com­ mends the freeing of the oppressed and charity towards oneself and one's neigh­ bour, promising in return, "Then shall thy light break forth as the rnorning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily, and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the Lord shall gather thee in .'" Then he goes on to commend the Sab­ bath, too, and for its diligent observance he promises, "Then shal t thou delight thy­ self in the Lord:' and I shall cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth , ' " and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob, thy father; for the mouth of the

* A Hebrew expression refernng to death. 'To be gathered unto one's people' means to die. See GenesIS chapter 49 v. 29, 3 3 .

" * Means 'to take honourable pleasure; a s i n the Dutch saymg, 'Met Godten met eere,' ** ... Means 'to hold sway,' like holdmg a horse on the rein

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Lord hath spoken it ." So we see that, in return for the freeing of the oppressed and for charity, the prophet promises a healthy mind in a healthy body, and the glory of the Lord even after death; but in return for the observance of ceremonies he promises only the security of the state, prosperi ty, and material success.

In Psalms 1 5 and 24 no mention is made of ceremonies but only of moral doc­ trine, obviously because their only theme is blessedness, and this alone is set be­ fore us, although by way of parable. For it is evident that by 'the h ill of God' and 'his tabernacle' and the abiding therein is meant blessedness and peace of mind, not the mount of Jerusalem nor the tent of Moses; for nobody dwel t in these places, and they were looked after by those of the tribe of Levi. Then again, all those sayings of Solomon which I quoted in the previous chapter also promise true blessedness simply in return for the cultivation of intellect and wisdom, for from wisdom will the fear of God come to be understood, and the knowledge of God be found.

That the Hebrews are not bound to practise their ceremonial rites since the de­ struction of their state is clear from Jeremiah, who, when he saw and proclaimed the imminent ru in of the city, said that God delights only in those who know and understand that he exercises lovingkindness, judgment and righteousness in the earth, and so thereafter only those who know these things are to be deemed wor­ thy of praise (see chapter 9 v. 23 ) . Th is is as much as to say that after the destruc­ tion of the city, God demanded no special service of the Jews and sought nothing of them thereafter except the natural law by which all men are bound.

The New Testament, too, plainly supports this view; for, as I have sa id, it teaches only moral doctrine and the promised reward is the Kingdom of Heaven, while the Apostles made no mention of ceremonial rites once they had extended the preaching of the Gospel to other nations who were bound by the laws of a dif­ ferent commonweal th o The Pharisees did indeed reta in these rites, or a great part of them, after the loss of their independent state; but their object in so doing was to oppose the Christians rather than to please God. For when they were led away in captivity to Babylon after the first destruction of the city, they straightway aban­ doned their observance of ceremonies. Indeed, they turned their backs on the entire Mosaic Law, consigned to oblivion the laws of their native land as being obviously pointless, and began to be assimilated to other nations, as Ezra and Nehemiah make abundantly clear. Therefore there is no doubt that, since the fall of their independent state, Jews are no more bound by the Mosaic Law than they were before their pol itical state came into being. For while they were l iving among other nations before the exodus from Egypt, they had no special laws to them­ selves; they were bound by no law other than the natural law, and doubtless the law of the state in which they dwelt, insofar as that was not opposed to the natu­ ral Divine Law.

As to the fuct that the Patriarchs offered sacrifice to God, I think they did this in order to stimulate a feel ing of reverence in their minds, which were accustomed from childhood to seeing sacrifice offered. For all men from the time of Enoch were quite familiar with the offering of sacrifice, and consequently this was the principle means of inducing reverence. Thus the Patriarchs sacrificed to God not

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through some command imposed on them by God, nor because they were in­ structed by the universal principles of the Divine Law, but only from contempo­ rary custom. And if they did so by anyone's command, that command was simply the existing law of the commonwealth in wh ich they were dwelling, by which they, too, were bound, as we have remarked both in this chapter and in Chapter 3 when speaking of Melchizedek

With these quotations I th ink I have confirmed my view by Scriptural author­ ity. It now remains for me to show how and why ceremonial rites served to preserve and strengthen the Hebrew state. This I shall demonstrate as briefly as possible, argu ing from universally valid principles.

The formation of a society is advantageous, even absolutely essential, not merely for security against enemies but for the efficient organisation of an econ­ omy. If men did not afford one another mutual aid, they would lack both the skill and the time to support and preserve themselves to the greatest possible extent. All men are not equally suited to all activities, and no single person would be ca­ pable of supplying all h is own needs. Each would find strength and time fail h im if he alone had to plough, sow, reap, grind, cook, weave, stitch and perform all the other numerous tasks to support life, not to mention the arts and sciences which are also indispensable for the perfection of human nature and its blessed­ ness. We see that those who live in a barbarous way with no civil ising influences lead a wretched and almost brutish existence, and even so their few poor and crude resources are not acquired without some degree of mutual help.

Now if men were so constituted by nature as to desire nothing but what is pre­ scribed by true reason, society would stand in no need of any laws. Nothing would be required but to teach men true moral doctrine, and they would then act to their true advantage of their own accord, whole-heartedly and freely. But human nature is far differently constituted. All men do, indeed, seek their own advantage, but by no means from the dictates of sound reason. For the most part the objectives they seek and judge to be beneficial are determined only by fleshly desire, and they are carried away by their emotions, which take no account of the future or of other considerations. Hence no society can subsist without govemment and coercion, and consequently without laws to control and restrain men's lusts and their unbri­ dled urges. Yet human nature will not submit to unlimited repression, and, as Seneca l says in h is tragedy, rule that depends on violence has never long contin­ ued; moderate rule endures. For as long as men act only from fear, they are doing what they are most opposed to doing, taking no account of the usefulness and the necessity of the action to be done, concemed only not to incur capital or other punishment. Indeed, they inevitably rejoice at misfortune or injury to their ruler even when this involves their own considerable misfortune, and they wish every ill on him, and bring this about when they can. Again, men are impatient above all at being subject to their equals and under their rule. Finally, there is nothing more difficult than to take away freedom from men to whom i t has once been granted.

I [In the Troatles. The same quotation occurs l D Chapter 16 .- S.S. J

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From this it foIlows, first, that either the entire community, if possible, should hold the reins of government as a single body, so that all are thus required to ren­ der obedience to themselves and no one to his equal; or, alternatively, if sover­ eignty is invested in a few men or in one alone, he should be endowed with some extraordinary quality, or must at least make every effort to convince the masses of th is. Secondly, in every state laws should be so devised that men may be influ­ enced not so much by fear as by hope of some good that they urgently desire; for in this way each will be eager to do h is duty. FinaIly, since obedience consists in carrying out orders simply by reason of the authority of a ruler, it foIlows that th is has no place in a community where sovereignty is vested in all the citizens, and laws are sanctioned by common consent. In such a community the people would remain equaIly free whether laws were multiplied or diminished, since it would act not from another's bidding but from its own consent. But the opposite is the case when sovereignty is vested absolutely in one man alone; for all do the state's bidding on the authority of only one man. So unless they have been brought up from the beginning to give unquestioning obedience to a ruler, he will find it dif­ ficult to institute new laws when they are needed and to deprive the people of a freedom that has once been granted.

From these general considerations let us pass on to the particular case of the commonweal th of the Hebrews. When they first went out from Egypt, being no longer bound by the laws of any nation, they were at liberty to sanction any new laws they pleased or to establ ish new ordinances, to maintain a state wherever they wished and to occupy any lands they wished. However, the task of estab­ l ish ing a wise system of laws and of keeping the government in the hands of the whole community was qu ite beyond them; for they were in general inexperi­ enced in such matters and exhausted by the wretched conditions of slavery. Therefore government had to rema in in the hands of one man who would is­ sue commands and enforce them on others; who would, in short, ordain laws and thereafter interpret them. Such sovereignty Moses easily succeeded in keeping in h is hands, because he surpassed all others in divine power which he convinced the people that he possessed, providing many proofs thereof (see Exodus chapter 14 last verse and chapter 19 v. 9). He, then, by the divine power with which he was gifted, establ ished a system of law and ordained it for the people. But in so doing he made every effort to see that the people should do their duty will ingly rather than through fear. To th is he was urged by two considerations, the obstinate nature of a people who cannot be coerced merely by force, and the imminence of war. To achieve military success soldiers have to be encouraged rather than terrorised by threats of punishment, for in th is way each will seek to distinguish h imself by valorous deeds and courage, and not merely try to avoid punishment. This, then, was the reason why Moses, by h is divine power and authority, introduced a s tate rel igion: it was to make the people do their duty from devotion rather than fear. Furthermore, he bound them by consideration of benefits received, while promising many more benefits from God in the future. And the laws he established were not

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unduly harsh , as anyone who studies them will readily grant, especially if he considers the number of circumstantial details required for the conviction of the accused . 2

Finally, i n order that a people incapable o f self-rule should be utterly sub­ servient to its ruler, he did not allow these men, habi tuated as they were to slav­ ery, to perform any action at their own discretion. The people could do nothing without being required at the same time to remember the law and to follow its commands, wh ich were dependent solely on the ruler's will . Ploughing, sowing, reaping were not permitted at their discretion, but had to accord with the fixed and determinate command of the law_ They could not even eat, dress, cut their hair, shave, make merry or do anything whatsoever except in accordance with commands and instructions laid down by the law. And this was not all; they had to have certa in signs on their doorposts, on their hands and between the eyes, to give them constant reminder of the duty of obedience.

This, then, was the object of ceremonial observance, that men should never act of their own vol ition but always at another's behest, and that in their actions and inward thoughts they should at all times acknowledge that they were not their own masters but completely subordinate to another. From all these considerations i t is quite indisputable that ceremonial observances contribute noth ing to blessedness, and that those specified in the Old Testament, and indeed the whole Mosaic Law, were relevant only to the Hebrew state, and consequently to no more than temporal prosperity.

With regard to Christian ceremonies, namely, baptism, the Lord's Supper, fes­ tivals, publ ic prayers and all the other ceremonies that are, and always have been, common to all Christendom, if they were ever instituted by Christ or the Apos­ tles (of which I am not yet convinced), they were instituted only as external sym­ bols of a universal Church, not as conducing to blessedness or as containing an intrinsic holiness. Therefore, although it was not to support a sovereign state that these ceremonies were insti tuted, yet their only purpose was the unification of a particular society, and thus he who lives in solitude is by no means bound by them. Indeed, he who lives under a government where the Christian rel igion is forbid­ den is required to abstain from these ceremonies, and can nevertheless l ive a blessed life. There is an instance of this in Japan, where the Christian rel igion is forbidden. The Dutch who l ive there are required by the East India Company to refrain from practising any external rites. I do not th ink it necessary to support th is view by other authority; and although it would not be difficul t to deduce it also from the fundamental principles of the New Testament and perhaps to demon­ strate it by further convincing testimony, I leave this topic the more willingly as I am anxious to move on to other points. I therefore proceed to the second topic I

2 [Spmoza is alludmg here to the requirements of JeWish cnmmal law that prescnbe in a case m­ volvmg capital pumshment-for example, rrrurder-that the murderer had to be forewarned by two witnesses. These witnesses must have tnformed the perpetrator of the gravity of the act and the specifiC pumshment for It I f any of these conditions IS absent, the killer cannot be pUDIshed with death . ]

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proposed to discuss in this chapter: for whom, and in what way, belief in the nar­ ratives of Holy Scripture is requisite. To examine this question by the natural l igh t of reason, I th ink it proper to proceed as follows.

If anyone, in arguing for or against a proposition which is not self-evident, seeks to persuade others to accept h is view, he must prove his point from premises that are granted, and he must convince h is audience on empirical grounds or by force of reason; that is, either from what sense-perception tells them occurs in Nature, or through self-evident intellectual axioms. Now unless experience is such as to be clearly and distinctly understood, i t cannot have so decisive an effect on a man's understanding and dispel the mists of doubt as when the desired conclusion is de­ duced solely from intellectual axioms, that is, from the mere force of the intellect and its orderly apprehensions. This is especially so if the point at issue is a spiri­ tual matter and does not come within the scope of the senses.

Now the process of deduction solely from intellectual axioms usually demands the apprehension of a long series of connected propositions, as well as the great­ est caution, acuteness of intelligence, and restraint, all of which qualities are rarely to be found among men. So men prefer to be taught by experience rather than engage in the logical process of deduction from a few axioms. Hence it fol­ lows that if anyone sets out to teach some doctrine to an entire nation- not to say the whole of mankind-and wants it to be intell igible to all in every deta il, he must rely entirely on an appeal to experience, and he must above all adapt h is ar­ guments and the definitions relevant to his doctrine to the understanding of the common people, who form the greatest part of mankind. He must not set before them a logical chain of reasoning nor frame the kind of definitions that are best suited to logical th inking. Otherwise he will be writing only for the learned; that is, he will be comprehensible only to a small minority.

Therefore, since the whole of Scripture was revealed in the first place for an entire nation , and eventually for all mankind, its contents had to be adapted par­ ticularly to the understanding of the common people, and it had to appeal only to experience. Let us explain more clearly. The teachings of Scripture that are concerned only with ph ilosophic matters can be summed up as follows: that there is a God or Being who made all things and who directs and sustains the world with supreme wisdom; that he takes the utmost care of men, that is, those of them who l ive moral and righteous lives; and that he severely punishes the others and cuts them off from the good. Now Scripture establishes th is simply by appeal ing to ex­ perience, that is, by its h istorical narratives; it does not provide any definitions of the terms it employs, but its language and reasoning is adapted to the under­ standing of the common people. And although experience can give no clear knowledge of these matters, and cannot teach what God is and in what way he sustains and directs all things and cares for men, i t can still teach and enlighten men as far as suffices to impress on their minds obedience and devotion.

I th ink we have now shown quite clearly for whom, and in what way, bel ief in the narratives of Holy Scripture is requisite. From what we have already demon­ strated it undoubtedly follows that knowledge of these writings and bel ief in them is in the highest degree necessary for the common people who lack the abil ity to

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perceive things clearly and distinctly. It further foJlows that he who rejects these writings because he does not believe in God, or does not believe that God cares for the world and mankind, is an impious person. But he who, while unac­ quainted with these writings, nevertheless knows by the natural l igh t that there is a God having the attributes we have recounted, and who also pursues a true way of l ife, is altogether blessed- indeed, more blessed than the multitude, because in addition to true bel iefs he also has a clear and distinct conception of God. F i­ nally, it foJlows that he who is neither acquainted with these Bibl ical narratives nor has any knowledge from the natural l ight, ifhe be not impious or obstinate, is yet hardly human and close to being a beast, possessing none of God's gifts.

However, it should here be noted that when we say that it is in the highest de­ gree requisite for the multitude to be acquainted with the B iblical narratives, we do not mean that they need to know absolutely all the narratives of Holy Scrip­ ture, but only those narratives that are of the first importance, and which, taken alone, display quite clearly the teachings we have just recounted, and make a strik­ ing impression on men's minds. For if all the Scriptural narratives were essential for demonstrating its teachings, and no conclusion could be drawn except by tak­ ing complete account of them all without exception, then surely the conclusive demonstration of its doctrine would be beyond the understanding and powers not only of the common people but of any human being. For who could pay atten­ tion all at once to such a vast number of narratives, to all the accompanying de­ tail and the partial accounts of a doctrine that would have to be drawn from so many diverse narratives? For my part, I cannot believe that those who bequeathed to us the Scriptures in their presen t form were men of such outstanding ability as to be capable of following in detail a demonstration of that kind. Still less am I convinced that the doctrine of Scripture cannot be understood without our hear­ ing of the quarrels of isaac, Achitophel's advice to Absalom, the civil war between the men of Judah and the men of Israel, and other chronicles of th is kind. Nor can I believe that h istorical narratives could not have demonstrated this doctrine to the earl ier Jews of the time of Moses quite as weJl as to the contemporaries of Ezra. The common people, then, need to be acquainted only with those narra­ tives that are most effective in instill ing obedience and devotion. But the com­ mon people are not themselves qual ified to judge of these narratives, being more disposed to take pleasure in the stories and in strange and unexpected happenings than in the doctrine implicit in the narratives; and, therefore, besides reading the narratives they also stand in need of pastors or ministers of the Church to instruct them in a way suited to their l imited intelligence.

However, let us not stray from our theme, but proceed to the conclusion which it was our main purpose to prove, namely, that belief in h istorical narratives of any kind whatsoever has nothing to do with the Divine Law, that it does not in itself make men blessed, that its only value l ies in the lesson conveyed, in which respect alone some narratives can be superior to others. So the narratives of the Old and New Testament differ in excellence from non-sacred writings and from one an­ other to the extent that they inspire salutary beliefs. Therefore if a man reads the narratives of Holy Scripture and has complete faith in them, and yet pays no heed

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to the lesson that Scripture thereby a ims to convey, and leads no better l ife, he might just as well have read the Koran or a poetic drama or at any rate ordinary history, giving the same attention as common people do to such writings. On the other hand, as we have said, he who is totally unacquainted with the Bibl ical nar­ ratives, but nevertheless holds salu tary bel iefi; and pursues the true way ofl ife, is absolutely blessed and has within him the spirit of Christ.

Now the Jews take a completely contrary view. They ma intain that true bel iefi; and a true way of l ife contribute nothing to blessedness as long as men embrace them only from the natural l ight of reason, and not as teachings revealed to Moses by prophetic inspiration. Th is is what Maimonides ventures openly to affirm in chapter 8 of Kings, Law I I , "Every man who takes to heart the seven command­ ments" and dil igently follows them belongs to the pious of nations and is heir to the world to come; that is to say, if he takes them to heart and follows them be­ cause God has ordained them in his Law, and has revealed to us through Moses that they were formerly ordained for the sons of Noah. But if he follows them through the guidance of reason, he is not a dweller among the pious nor among the wise of nations."3 Such are the words of Maim on ides, to wh ich Rabbi Joseph,' son of Shem Tob, in his book called Kebod Elohim, or Glory of God, adds th is, that although Aristotle (whom he considers to have written the finest work on Eth ics, esteeming him above all others) may have neglected none of the precepts of true morality-which he also advocated in h is own Ethics-and may have dil i­ gently followed all these teachings, this could not have furthered his own salva­ tion, because he embraced these doctrines not as divine teachings prophetically revealed, but solely through the dictates of reason.

However, I th ink that any attentive reader will be convinced that these are mere figments of imagination, unsupported by rational argument or Scriptural author­ ity. To state this view is sufficient to refute it. Nor do I here intend to refute the view of those who maintain that the natural l ight of reason can give no sound instruc­ tion in matters concerning true salvation. Those who deny to themselves a faculty

• N.B. The Jews beheve that God gave Noah seven commandments, which alone are binding on all peoples; but to the Jews alone he gave many other commandments, makmg them more blessed than the rest.

3 [Splnoza's reference to Malmomdes IS elhptIcal; the full citation should be Maimonides' Code of Law (Mishneh Torah), Book o{Kings, chapter 8, law 1 1 As some modern scholars have noted, Spm� oza's text of Maim om des' Code IS not accurate Whereas m the TIP, Spmoza reads " . nor among the wise of nahons," the correct readmg IS "but only of the WISe of nations," That IS, accordmg to Matmomdes, the non-Jew rrrust accept the moral law as revealed by God in order to merit entry mto the World-to-Come, or In Spinoza's language, to be blessed If not, the non-Jew who observes the moral commandments from rational argument and conSiderations IS just WISe, not pious or blessed. MamlOmdes' positIOn was not Universally accepted by Jews. Spinoza, however, uses I t as a weapon against Judaism and also by Implication any religIOn that makes dogmatic belief and ntual obser­ vances necessary conditions for blessedness.]

4 [Joseph ben Shem Tov, a fifteenth-century SpaniSh Jewish scholar, was a critical Malmomdean, who had reservations concerning the extent to which Arlstotehan philosophy could be made con­ sistent With Judaism and conversely. In addttlon to the treatISe cded by Spmoza, he wrote a com­ mentary on ArIStotle's Nicomachean Ethics J

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for sound reasoning cannot cla im to prove their assertion by reasoning. And if they cla im for themselves some suprarational faculty, th is is the merest fiction, and fur inferior to reason_ This has been shown clearly enough by the manner of life they usually adopt. But there is no need to speak more openly about such people. This only will I add: we cannot know anyone except by h is works. He who abounds in these fruits- charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, fa ithfulness, gen­ tleness and self-control, against which (as Paul says in Galatians chapter 5 v. 22) the law is not laid down, he, whether he be taught by reason alone or by Scripture alone, is in truth taught by God, and is altogether blessed.

Thus I have completed all that I undertook to discuss regarding the Divine law.

C HAPTER 6

Of Miracles

Just as men are accustomed to call divine the kind of knowledge that surpasses hu­ man understanding, so they call divine, or the work of God, any work whose cause is generally unknown. For the common people suppose that God's power and providence are most clearly displayed when some unusual event occurs in Nature contrary to their habitual bel iefs concerning Nature, particularly if such an event is to their profit or advantage. They consider that the clearest possible evidence of God's existence is provided when Nature deviates-as they think- from her proper order. Therefore they believe that all those who explain phenomena and miracles through natural causes, or who strive to understand them so, are doing away with God, or at least God's providence. They consider that God is inactive all the while that Nature pursues her normal course, and, conversely, that Na­ ture's power and natural causes are suspended as long as God is acting. Thus they imagine that there are two powers quite distinct from each other, the power of God and the power of Nature, though the latter is determined in a definite way by God, or-as is the prevail ing opinion nowadays-created by God. What they mean by the two powers, and what by God and Nature, they have no idea, except that they imagine God's power to be l ike the rule of some royal potentate, and Na­ ture's power to be a kind of force and energy.

Therefore unusual works of Nature are termed miracles, or works of God, by the common people; and partly from piety, partly for the sake of opposing those who cultivate the natural sciences, they prefer to remain in ignorance of natural causes, and are eager to hear only of what is least comprehensible to them and con­ sequently evokes their greatest wonder. Naturally so, since it is only by abol ishing natural causes and imagining supernatural events that they are able to worship God and refer all things to God's governance and God's will; and it is when they imag­ ine Nature's power subdued, as it were, by God that they most admire God's power.

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This idea seems to have originated with the early Jews. In order to refute the beliefs of the Gentiles of their time who worshipped visible gods- the Sun, the Moon, the Earth , Water, Sky and so on-and to prove to them that these gods were weak and inconstant, or changeable and under the command of an invisi­ ble God, they boasted of their miracles, from which they further sought to prove that the whole of Nature was directed for their sole benefit by command of God whom they worshipped. Th is idea has found such favour with mankind that they have not ceased to this day to invent miracles with view to convincing people that they are more beloved of God than others, and are the final cause of God's cre­ ation and continuous direction of the world.

To what lengths will the folly of the multitude not carry them? They have no sound conception either of God or of Nature, they confuse God's decisions with human decisions, and they imagine Nature to be so l imited that they believe man to be its chief part.

I have now devoted enough space to setting forth the bel iefs and prejudices of the multitude conceming Nature. However, for the sake of orderly exposition, I shall demonstrate:

I. That no event can occur to contravene Nature, which preserves an etemal fixed and immutable order. At the same time I shall explain what is to be under­ stood by a miracle.

2 . That neither God's essence nor God's existence- nor, consequently, God's providence- can be known from miracles. All these can be far better appre­ hended from Nature's fixed and immutable order.

3 . I shall cite a number of passages in Scripture to prove that, by God's decrees and voli tions, and consequently God's providence, Scripture itself means nothing other than Nature's order, which necessarily follows from her etemal laws.

4. Finally, I shall discuss the method of interpreting Scriptural miracles, and the chief points to be noted regarding the narratives of miracles.

These are the principal topics which form the subject-matter of th is chapter, and which I furthermore consider to be of no small profit in furthering the pur­ pose of this entire work.

As to the first point, this is easily demonstrated from what I have set forth in Chap­ ter 4 conceming the Divine Law; namely, that all that God wills or determines in­ volves eternal necessity and truth; for by establishing the identity of God's intellect with God's will we showed that we make the same affirmation in saying that God wills something as in saying that God understands that thing. Therefore the neces­ sity whereby it follows from the divine nature and perfection that God understands some thing as it is, is the same necessity from which it follows that God wills that thing as it is. Now since nothing is necessarily true save by the divine decree, it quite clearly follows that the universal laws of Nature are merely God's decrees, follow­ ing from the necessity and perfection of the divine nature. So if anything were to happen in Nature contrary to her universal laws, it would also be necessarily con­ trary to the decree, intellect and nature of God. Or if anyone were to maintain that God performs some act contrary to the laws of Nature, he would at the same time have to maintain that God acts contrary to his own nature-of which nothing could

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be more absurd. The same could also be easily proved from the fact that the power of Nature is the divine power and virtue, and the divine power is the very essence of God. But I prefer to pass this by for the present.

Nothing, then, can happen in Nature" to contravene her own universal laws, nor yet anything that is not in agreement with these laws or that does not follow from them. For whatever occurs does so through God's will and eternal decree; that is, as we have already shown, all that happens does so in accordance with laws and rules which involve eternal necessity and truth. Nature, then, always observes laws and rules involving eternal necessity and truth although these are not all known to us, and thus it also observes a fixed and imrnutable order. Nor can any sound reasoning persuade us to attribute to Nature a l imited power and virtue, and to regard her laws as having only a restricted appl ication. For since the virtue and power of Nature is the very virtue and power of God, and the laws and rules of Nature are God's very decrees, there can be no doubt that Nature's power is in­ finite, and her laws sufficiently wide to extend to everything that is conceived even by the divine intellect. Otherwise it would surely have to be maintained that God created Nature so ineffective and prescribed for her laws and rules so barren that he is often constra ined to come once more to her rescue ifhe wants her to be pre­ served, and the course of events to be as he desires. This I consider to be utterly divorced from reason .

So from these considerations- that noth ing happens in Nature that does not follow from her laws, that her laws cover everything that is conceived even by the divine intellect, and that Nature observes a fixed and immutable order- it follows most clearly that the word miracle can be understood only with respect to men's beliefs, and means simply an event whose natural cause we-or at any rate the writer or narrator of the miracle-cannot explain by comparison with any other normal event. I might indeed have said that a miracle is that whose cause cannot be expla ined on scientific principles known to us by the natural l ight of reason. However, since miracles were wrought according to the understanding of the common people who were qu ite ignorant of the principles of science, men of old dou btless regarded as a miracle whatever they could not explain in the way in which the common people are accustomed to explain natural phenomena, that is, by resorting to memory so as to call to mind a similar happening which is or­ dinarily regarded without wonder. For the common people are not satisfied that they understand a th ing until they can regard it without wonder. So men of old , and in general a l l men up to the present day, had no other criterion of a miracle, and therefore there are undoubtedly many alleged miracles in Scripture whose causes can be easily expla ined from known scientific principles. This is what we indicated in Chapter 2 when we spoke of the sun standing still in the time of Joshua and its retrogression in the time of Ahaz. But we shall presently treat of this matter more fully in discussing the interpretation of miracles, as I have under­ taken to do in this chapter.

'" Here, by Nature, I do not mean Simply matter and Its modifications, but mflmte other thmgs be­ sides matter.

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It is now time to pass on to our second point, namely, to show that miracles cannot provide us with any understanding either of God's essence or h is existence or his providence, and that on the contrary these are far better apprehended from the fixed and immutable order of Nature. My proof proceeds as follows. Since God's existence is not self-eviden� • i t must necessarily be inferred from axiomatic truths which are so firm and incontrovertible that there can neither be, nor be conceived, any power that could call them into question. At any rate, once we have inferred from them God's existence, we are bound to regard them as such if we seek to establish beyond all shadow of doubt our inference from them to God's existence. For if we could conceive that these axiomatic truths themselves can be impugned by any power, of whatever kind it be, then we should doubt their truth and consequently the conclusion following therefrom, namely God's existence; nor could we ever be certain of anyth ing. Further, we know that something agrees with or contravenes Nature only when we can prove that it agrees with or con­ travenes those basic truths. Therefore if we could conceive that in Nature some­ thing could be produced by some power, of whatever kind it be, to contravene Nature, it would contravene those primary axioms. So it must be rejected as ab­ surd, or else (as we have just shown) the primary axioms, and consequently God, and all our apprehensions of every kind must be called into doubt. It is therefore far from being the case that miracles- understanding thereby something that con­ travenes the order of Nature- prove for us God's existence; on the contrary, they cast doubt on it, since but for them we could be absolutely certain of God's exis­ tence, in the assurance that all Nature follows a fixed and immutable order.

But let it be supposed that a miracle is that which cannot be explained through natural causes. This can be understood in two ways: either that it does have nat­ ural causes which the human intellect cannot ascerta in, or that it owns no cause but God, or the will of God. However, since all things that come to pass through natural causes are also attributable solely to the power and will of God, it really comes down to th is, thata miracle, whether or not it has natural causes, is an event that cannot be explained through a cause, that is, an event that surpasses human understanding. But from such an event, and from anything at all that surpasses our understanding, we can understand noth ing. For whatever we clearly and dis­ tinctly understand must become known to us either through itself or through some other thing that is clearly and distinctly understood through itself. There­ fore from a miracle, or an event that surpasses our understanding we can under­ stand neither God's essence nor h is existence nor anything whatsoever of God or Nature. On the contrary, knowing that all things are determined and ordained by God and that the workings of Nature follow from God's essence, while the laws of Nature are God's eternal decrees and vol itions, we must unreservedly conclude that we get to know God and God's will all the better as we gain better knowledge of natural phenomena and understand more clearly how they depend on their first cause, and how they operate in accordance with Nature's eternal laws. There-

'" See Supplementary Note 6

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fore, as far as concerns our understanding, those events which we understand clearly and distinctly have fur better righ t to be termed works of God, and to be referred to God's will, than those of which we are quite ignorant, even though the latter appeal strongly to the imagination and evoke men's wondeL For it is only those works of Nature which we clearly and distinctly understand that afford us a higher knowledge of God, and indicate with the utmost clarity God's will and de­ crees. So those who have recourse to the will of God when there is someth ing they do not understand are but trifling; this is no more than a ridiculous way of avow­ ing one's ignorance.

Furthermore, granting that any conclusion could be drawn from miracles, God's existence could not possibly be concluded therefrom. For since a miracle is an event of a l imited nature, expressing a power that is never other than fixed and l imited, from such an effect we could not possibly conclude the existence of a cause whose power is infinite; the most we could conclude is the existence of a cause whose power is greater than that effect. I say 'the most' because an event can also be the result of several simultaneously concurring causes, the force and power of the result being less than all the causes taken together, but far greater than the power of each separate cause. Now since the laws of Nature (as we have shown) are infinite in their scope and are conceived by us as having an eternal quality, and since Nature operates in accordance with them in a fixed and im­ mutable order, the laws themselves give us some indication of the infinity, eter­ nity and immutabil ity of God.

Therefore we conclude that from miracles we cannot gain knowledge of God, his existence and providence, and that these can be far better inferred from Na­ ture's fixed and immutable ordeL In arriving at this conclusion I am speaking of miracle insofar as i t means only an event that surpasses, or is thought to surpass, man's understanding. For insofar as i t were supposed to destroy or interrupt the order of Nature or to contravene her laws, in that sense (as I have iust shown) not only could it give us no knowledge of God but it would take from us what knowl­ edge we naturally have, and would cast doubt on God and on all th ings.

And here I do not acknowledge any difference between an event contrary to Nature and a supernatural event; (that is, according to some, an event that does not contravene Nature but nevertheless cannot be produced or brought about by Nature). For since a miracle occurs not externally to Nature but within Nature, even though i t be claimed to be supernatural , yet it must necessarily interrupt Na­ ture's order which otherwise we would conceive as fixed and immutable by God's decrees. So if there were to occur in Nature anything that did not follow from her laws, this would necessarily be opposed to the order which God maintains eter­ nally in Nature through her universal laws. So this would be contrary to Nature and Nature's laws, and consequently such a bel ief would cast doubt on everyth ing, and would lead to atheism.

I th ink I have now established my second point on a firm footing, from which we may once more reach the conclusion that a miracle, either contrary to Nature or above Nature, is mere absurdity, and therefore a miracle in Scripture can mean nothing else (as we have said) but a natural event which surpasses, or is believed

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to surpass, human understanding. But before moving on to my third point, I should l ike to confirm by Scriptural authority our assertion that we cannot gain knowledge of God through miracles. Although Scripture never states this overtly, this conclusion can readily be inferred from it, especially from the passage where Moses (Deu!. ch. 1 3) commands that a fulse prophet should be condemned to death even though he should perform miracles. It runs as follows: "(Although) the s ign of wonder come to pass, whereof he spoke unto thee . . . thou shalt not hearken to the voice of that prophet . . . for the Lord your God proveth you . . . that prophet shall be put to death . . . . " For this it clearly follows that miracles can be performed by fulse prophets, too, and that from miracles men may accept false gods quite as readily as the true God, unless they are well fortified by true knowl­ edge and love of God. For he adds, "For the Lord your God proveth you, to know whether ye love him with all your heart and with all your soul."

Again, their many miracles did not enable the Israel i tes to form any sound con­ ception of God, as the fucts bear witness. When they were convinced that Moses had departed from them, they asked Aaron to give them visible deities, and their idea of God, formed after all their many miracles, was-a calft Asaph , although he had heard of so many miracles, nevertheless doubted God's providence, and might have turned aside from the true path had he not finally achieved an un­ derstanding of true blessedness (see Psalm 73) . Solomon, too, in whose time the Jews reached the height of their prosperity, suspects that all thing. happen by chance. See Ecclesiastes chapter 3 v. 1 9, 20, 2 1 , and chapter 9 v. 2 , 3 etc.

Finally, nearly all the prophets found considerable difficul ty in reconcil ing the order of Nature and vicissitudes of men with the conception they had formed of God's providence, whereas this has never afforded difficulty to philosophers, who endeavour to understand things not from miracles but from clear conceptions. For they place true happiness solely in virtue and peace of mind, and they strive to conform with Nature, not to make Nature conform with them; for they are as­ sured that God directs Nature in accordance with the requirements of her uni­ versal laws, and not in accordance with the requirements of the particular laws of human nature. Thus God takes account of the whole of Nature, and not of the human race alone.

Therefore even Scripture itself makes i t evident that miracles do not afford true knowledge of God, nor do they clearly teach God's providence. As to the many passages in Scripture to the effect that God wrought wonders so as to make him­ self known to men-as in Exodus chapter 1 0 v. 2, where God deceived the Egyp­ tians and gave signs of h im self so that the Israelites might know that he was God­ it does not follow therefrom that miracles really conveyed th is; i t only follows that the beliefs of the Jews were such that they could be readily convinced by these miracles. For we have already shown clearly in Chapter 2 that deliverances of a prophetic nature- i.e. those that are inspired by revelation -are not derived from universal and fundamental axioms, but from the prior assumptions and beliefs, however absurd, of those to whom the revelation is made, or those whom the Holy Spirit seeks to convince. This is a point I have illustrated with many examples, and also with the testimony of Paul, who was a Greek with the Greeks and a Jew

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with the Jews. But although these miracles succeeded in carrying conviction with the Egyptians and the Jews on the basis of their prior assumptions, they could not impart the true idea and knowledge of God but could only bring about these peoples' admission that there was a Deity more powerful than anyth ing known to them, and that he cared above all men for the Hebrews, whose affairs at that time had prospered beyond expectation. Miracles did not teach them that God cares equally for all; only philosophy can teach that. So the Jews, and all those for whom God's providence was exemplified solely by differences in the condition of hu­ man affairs and by inequal ities offortune, were convinced that the Jews were more beloved of God than other peoples, in spite of the fact that, as we showed in Chap­ ter 3, the Jews did not excel others in true human perfection.

I now proceed to my third point, demonstrating from Scripture that God's de­ crees and commandmen ts, and consequently God's providence, are in truth noth­ ing but Nature's order; that is to say, when Scripture tells us that this or that was accompl ished by God or by God's will, nothing more is intended than that it came about by accordance with Nature's law and order, and not, as the common people believe, that Nature for that time suspended her action, or that her order was tem­ porarily interrupted . But Scripture does not directly teach what is not relevant to its doctrine; for it is not the part of Scripture (as we showed in connection with the Divine Law) to teach things through their natural causes or to engage in pure philosophy. Therefore the point we here seek to establish must be gathered by im­ plication from certain Scriptural narratives which happen to be related more fully and in more detail. I shall therefore cite a number of these passages.

In I Samuel chapter 9 v. 1 5 , 16 it is related that God revealed to Samuel that he would send Saul to him. Yet God did not send Saul to Samuel in the way that men ordinarily send someone to someone else; God's sending was merely the ordinary course of Nature. Saul was in search of h is lost asses (as related in the previous chapter) and was th inking of retuming home without them when, at h is servanfs suggestion, he went to the prophet Samuel to leam where he might find them. Nowhere in the entire narrative is it stated that, beyond this natural course of events, Saul received any command of God to visit Samuel .

In Psalm 1 0 5 v. 24 we are told that God changed the hearts of the Egyptians so as to hate the Israelites. But th is, again, was a quite natural change, as is evi­ dent from Exodus chapter 1 , where a weighty reason is given as to why the Egyp­ tians were moved to reduce the Israelites to slavery.

In Genesis chapter 9 v. 1 3 God tells Noah that he will set a rainbow in the cloud. Th is act of God, again, is assuredly nothing other than the refraction and reflection of the sun's rays which they undergo in droplets of water.

In Psalm 147 v. 1 8 the natural action and warmth of the wind whereby frost and snow are melted is called the word of God; and in v. 1 5 , wind and cold are called the command and word of God.

In Psalm 1 04 v. 4 wind and fire are called the messengers and ministers of God, and there are many other such passages in Scripture which clearly indicate that God's decree, command, edict and word are nothing other than the action and order of Nature.

Chapter 6 4 5 1

Therefore there can be no doubt that all the events narrated in Scripture oc­ curred naturally; yet they are referred to God because, as we have already shown , it is not the part of Scripture to explain events through their natural causes; it only relates to those events that strike the imagination, employing such method and style as best serves to excite wonder, and consequently to instil piety in the minds of the masses. So if we find in Scripture some things for which we can assign no cause and which seems to have happened beyond - indeed, contrary to­ Nature's order, th is should not perplex us. We need have no hesitation in bel iev­ ing that what truly happened, happened naturally.

This view receives further confirmation from the fact that many circumstan­ tial details were found to accompany miracles, although these are not always recorded, especially where the style is of a poetic character. The circumstances accompanying miracles, I repeat, clearly show that miracles need natural causes. For instance, so that the Egyptians should be infected with boils, Moses had to scatter ashes in the air (Exodus ch. 9 v. 1 0) . The locusts, too, invaded the land of Egypt by God's command through natural means, namely, through an east wind which blew a whole day and night, and i t was through a strong west wind that they quitted the land (Exodus ch. 10 v. 14, 1 9) . By that same command of God, too, the sea opened a path for the Jews (Exodus ch. 14 v. 2 1 ) , that is, through an east wind which blew strongly all night long. Again, in order that El isha could revive a child who was thought to be dead, he had to l ie over him several times until the child first regained warmth and at last opened his eyes (2 Kings ch. 4 v. 34, 3 5 ) . So , too, in S I . John's Gospel chapter 9 we a re told of some accompanying actions which Christ employed to heal the bl ind man, and there are numerous other in­ stances in Scripture, all going to show that miracles need something other than the absolute command of God, as it is called. Therefore we are justified in be­ l ieving that, although the circumstances attendant on miracles and the natural causes of miracles are not narrated always and in full, the miracles did not occur without them. This is again clear from Exodus chapter 14 v. 27, where we are merely told that the sea returned to its strength once more solely at the bidding of Moses, no mention being made of any wind; yet in the Song of Moses (ch. 1 5 v. 1 0) it is said that this came about because God blew with h is wind (that is, a very strong wind). So this attendant circumstance is omitted in the narrative, thereby making the miracle appear all the greater.

But perhaps someone will insist that we find numerous events in Scripture which defy explanation through natural causes, as that the sins of men and their prayers can be the cause of rain and the earth's fertil ity, or that faith could heal the bl ind, or other inciden ts of a s imilar kind narrated in the Bible. But I consider that I have already repl ied to such objections. For I have shown that Scripture does not explain things through their proximate causes; in its narratives i t merely em­ ploys such order and such language as is most effective in moving men -and par­ ticularly the common people- to devotion. That is why it speaks of God and events in terms far from correc� its aim being not to convince on rational grounds but to appeal to and engage men's fantasy and imagination. If Scripture were to describe the downfall of an empire in the style adopted by pol i tical h istorians, the

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common people would not be stirred, whereas they are deeply affected when all is described in poetical language and referred to God, as is customary in Scrip­ ture. So when Scripture tells us that the earth is barren because of men's sins, or that the blind were healed by their fa ith, we should accept this in the same way as when it tells us that God is angry because of men's sins, that he is grieved, that he repents of the good he has promised or done, or that he remembers a promise as a result of seeing a s ign, and numerous other assertions that are either of a po­ etical character or are narrated in accordance with the bel iefs and preconceptions of the writer.

Therefore we may now conclude with absolute assurance that everyth ing re­ lated in Scripture as having truly happened came to pass necessarily according to the laws of Nature, as everything does. If anything be found in Scripture which can be conclusively proved to contravene the laws of Nature, or which could not pos­ s ibly follow from them, we have to believe that this was inserted into Holy Scrip­ ture by sacrilegious men. For whatever is contrary to Nature is contrary to reason, and whatever is contrary to reason is absurd, and should therefore be rejected.

It now rema ins for us to remark on just a few more points regarding the inter­ pretation of Scripture, or rather, to recall them -for the main points have already been mentioned-and to illustrate them with a few examples, as I proposed to do here in the fourth section. My purpose is that no one, by misinterpreting some miracle, should heedlessly come to think that he has found something in Scrip­ ture contrary to the l ight of Nature.

It very rarely happens that men relate an event exactly as it took place without introducing into i t something oftheir own judgment. Indeed, when they see or hear something strange, they will generally be so much influenced by their own pre­ conceived bel ieJS- unless they are strictly on their guard against them - that what they perceive is something quite different from what they really see or hear to have happened. This is especially so if the occurrence surpasses the understanding of the narrator or listener, and in particular if it is to his interest that the event should come about in a certain way. In consequence, chronicles and histories reflect the writer's own beliefS rather than the actual facts, and one and the same occurrence is so dif­ ferently related by two men holding different beliefS that they seem to be speaking of two different events, and there is often little difficulty in elucidating the belieJS of the chronicler and historian simply from their narratives.

In confirmation I could quote many examples both from writers of natural his­ tory and from chroniclers, did I not th ink i t superfluous; but I will cite one ex­ ample from Holy Scripture, leaving the reader to j udge of the rest. In the time of Joshua, the Hebrews (as I have previously indicated) shared the common bel ief that the sun moves with a diurnal motion (as it is termed) and the earth is at rest, and to th is preconceived belief they adapted the miracle that befell them in the battle against the five kings. They did not simply relate that the day in question was longer than usual; they said that the sun and moon stood still , ceasing from their motion. At that time this interpretation may have stood them in good stead in refuting the Gentiles who worshipped the sun, and in proving by actual expe­ rience that the sun was under the control of another deity, at whose bidding it

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must alter its natural course. So partly through piety and partly influenced by pre­ conceived bel iefs, they conceived and related this event quite differently from the way it could really have come about

Therefore, to interpret Scriptural miracles and to understand from their ac­ counts how they really took place, one must know the bel iefs of those who origi­ nally related them and left us written records of them, and one must distinguish between these beliefs and what could have been presented to their senses. Oth­ erwise we shall confuse their bel iefs and judgments with the miracle as it really happened. And awareness oftheir beliefs is of further importance in avoiding con­ fusion between what really happened and what was imagined and was no more than prophetic symbol ism. For many things are related in Scripture as real, and were also believed to be real, but were nevertheless merely symbolical and imag­ inary; as that God, the supreme Being, came down from heaven (Exodus ch. 1 9 v. 1 8 and Deut. ch. 5 v. 1 9 ) and that Mount Sinai smoked because God descended upon it surrounded by fire, and that Elijah ascended to heaven in a chariot of fire and with horses offire. All these were merely symbolical representations, adapted to the bel ief of those who have transmitted them to us as they were represented to them, that is, as actual happenings. All who have any smattering of education know that God does not have a righ t hand or a left hand, that he neither moves nor is at rest, nor is he in any particular place, but is absolutely infinite, and con­ tains within himself all perfections. These truths, I say, are known by those whose judgment is formed from the perceptions of pure intellect, and not from the way the imagination is affected by their outward senses. This latter is the case with the masses, who therefore imagine God as corporeal, holding royal sway from h is throne in the vault of heaven above the stars-which they believe to be at no great distance from the earth. Numerous occurrences in Scripture are adapted to these and similar beliefs, as we have pointed out, and therefore ought not to be accepted as real by philosophers.

Finally, for the proper understanding of the reality of miracles, it is important to be acquainted with the diction and metaphors affected by the Hebrews. He who does not pay sufficient attention to this will ascribe to Scripture many miracles which Scriptural writers never intended as such, thus completely fa iling to un­ derstand not only events and miracles as they really happened but also the mean­ ing of the writers of the Sacred Books. Thus Zechariah (ch . 14 v. 7), speaking about some future war, says, "It shall be one day known only to the Lord, (for it shall be) neither day nor night, but at evening time it shall be l ight." By these words he seems to be predicting a great miracle; yet his meaning is quite s imply that the battle will be in balance throughout the whole day, its issue being known only to God, and that at evening time they will ga in victory. For i t was with ex­ pressions like these that the prophets used to predict and write of the victories and defeats of nations. Similarly, we see Isaiah (ch. 1 3) describing the destruction of Babylon in the following way, " . . . since the stars of heaven and the constellations thereof shall not give their l ight, the sun shall be darkened in h is going forth, and the moon shall not cause her light to shine." Surely nobody, I imagine, believes that these things happened at the destruction of that empire, nor, as he goes on

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to add, " . . . therefore I will make the heavens to tremble, and the earth shall be removed from her place."

Similarly Isa iah, in the penultimate verse of chapter 48, intending to convey to the Jews that they would return from Babylon to Jerusalem in safety and would not suffer from thirst on the journey, says, "And they thirsted not when he led them through the wilderness, he caused water to flow out of the rocks for them, he clave the rock and the waters flowed." By these words, I say, he means no more than that the Jews would find springs in the desert-as is not unusual -from which they would quench their thirst; for when the Jews returned to Jerusalem by Cyrus' consent, there is no record of any such miracles befull ing them. In Holy Scrip­ ture we find many such passages which are s imply modes of speech affected by the Jews. There is no need for me to review them all now in detail, but I should l ike only to make the general point that the Hebrews used to employ th is style of speech not merely for rhetorical effect but also-and most of all-from motives of piety. It is for th is reason that in Holy Scripture 'Bless God' is substituted for 'Curse God' (see I Kings ch. 2 1 v. 1 0 and Job ch. 2 v. 9); and for the same reason they referred everything to God, with the result that Scripture appears to be re­ lating noth ing but miracles even when it is speaking of the most natural things, as we have already illustrated with many examples. Therefore we should believe that when Scripture says that God hardened Pharaoh's heart, no more is meant than that Pharaoh was obstinate; when it is said that God opened the windows of heaven, th is means no more than there was a heavy rainstorm, and so on. If we bear these points well in mind, and also reflect that many of the narratives are very brief, shorn of all detail and defective in many ways, we shall find practically noth­ ing in Scripture that can be shown to contradict the l ight of Nature, whereas many passages which seemed very obscure we can understand and readily interpret with a l ittle thought.

I think I have now demonstrated quite clearly what I had proposed to demon­ strate. Nevertheless, before I bring this chapter to a close, there remains a further point to which I should l ike to draw attention, namely, that in here discussing mir­ acles I have adopted a method very different from that employed in deal ing with prophecy. In the matter of prophecy I made no assertion that I could not infer from grounds revealed in Holy Scripture, whereas in this chapter I have drawn my main conclusions solely from basic principles known by the natural l ight of reason_ Th is procedure I have adopted deliberately because in dealing with prophecy, since it surpasses human understanding and is a purely theological question, revelation provided the only basis for making any assertion about it, or even for understanding its essential nature. So in the case of prophecy I had no alternative but to compile a h istorical account, and from that to formulate certain principles wh ich would give me some degree of insight into the nature and prop­ erties of prophecy. But in the matter of miracles, since the object of our inquiry­ namely, whether we can admit that something can happen in Nature which is contrary to her laws, or which could not follow therefrom- is plainly of a philo­ sophical character, no such procedure was necessary. On the contrary, I deemed

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i t the wiser course to attempt to solve this problem from basic principles known by the natural l ight, these being of all thing. best known to us. I say that I deemed i t the wiser course, for I might also have solved this problem quite easily from the pronouncements and basic doctrines of Scripture alone. This I shall here briefly demonstrate, so that it may be clear to all.

In certa in passages Scripture asserts of Nature in general that she observes a fixed and immutable order, as in Psalm 1 38 verse 6 and Jeremiah chapter 3 1 verses 3 5 , 36. Furthermore, in Ecclesiastes chapter I verse 10 the Sage tells us qu ite clearly that nothing new happens in Nature, and in verses I I , 12 to illustrate th is same point he says that although occasionally something may happen that seems new, it is not new, but has happened in ages past beyond recall. For, as he says, there is today no remembrance of thing. past, nor will there be remembrance of things today among those to come. Again, in chapter 3 verse I I he says that God has ordered all thing. well for their time, and in verse 14 he says that he knows that whatever God does will endure forever, neither can anything be added to it nor taken away from it. All these passages clearly convey the teaching that Nature observes a fixed and immutable order, that God has been the same throughout all ages that are known or unknown to us, that the laws of Nature are so perfect and fruitful that nothing can be added or taken away from them, and that mira­ cles seem something strange only because of man's ignorance.

These, then, are the express teaching. of Scripture: nowhere does it say that something can happen in Nature that contravenes her laws or that cannot follow from her laws; so neither should we impute such a doctrine to Scripture. Then there is the further fact that miracles stand in need of causes and attendant cir­ cumstances (as we have already shown); they do not result from some kind of royal government which the masses attribute to God, but from the divine government and decree; that is (as we have also shown from Scripture), from Nature's laws and order. Finally, miracles can be wrought even by false prophets, as is proved from Deuteronomy chapter 1 3 and Matthew chapter 24 verse 24.

Hence i t follows on the pla inest evidence that miracles were natural occur­ rences, and therefore they should be expla ined in such a way that they seem to be neither 'new' things (to use Solomon's expression) nor thing. contrary to Na­ ture, but things approximating as closely to natural occurrences as the fucts al­ lowed. To render th is interpretation easier for everyone, I have set forth certa in rules drawn only from Scripture. Nevertheless, although I say that th is is Scrip­ ture's teaching, I do not mean to suggest that Scripture enjoins th is teaching as something requisite for salvation; I mean only that the prophets take the same view as I . Therefore on these matters everyone is entitled to hold whatever view he feels will better bring him with s incere heart to the worsh ip of God and to re­ l igion. This was also the opin ion of Josephus, for towards the end of Book 2 of h is Antiquities, he writes as follows: "Let no one baulk at the word miracle, if men of ancient times, unsoph isticated as they were, see the road to safety open up through the sea , whether revealed by God's will or of its own accord. Those men, too, who accompanied Alexander, king of Macedon, men of much more recent

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times, I found the Pamphylian sea divide for them, offering a passage when there was no other way, i t being God's will to destroy the Persian empire through him. This is admitted to be true by all who have written of Alexander's deeds. There­ fore on these matters let everyone think as he will." Such are the words of Jose­ phus, showing his attitude to belief in miracles.

C HAPTER 7

Of the Interpretation of Scripture

On every side we hear men saying that the Bible is the Word of God, teaching mankind true blessedness, or the path to salvation. But the facts are quite at vari­ ance with their words, for people in general seem to make no attempt whatsoever to l ive according to the Bible's teachings. We see that nearly all men parade their own ideas as God's Word, their chief aim being to compel others to think as they do, while using rel igion as a pretext. We see, I say, that the chief concern of the­ ologians on the whole has been to extort from Holy Scripture their own arbitrar­ ily invented ideas, for which they claim divine authority. In no other field do they display less scruple and greater temerity than in the interpretation of Scripture, the mind of the Holy Spirit, and if while so doing they feel any misgivings, their fear is not that they may be mistaken in their understanding of the Holy Spirit and may stray from the path to salvation, but that others may convict them of error, thus annihilating their personal prestige and bringing them into contempt.

Now if men were really sincere in what they profess with regard to Holy Scrip­ ture, they would conduct themselves quite differently; they would not be racked by so much quarrelling and such bitter feuding, and they would not be gripped by this blind and passionate desire to interpret Scripture and to introduce inno­ vations in rel igion. On the contrary, they would never venture to accept as Scrip­ tural doctrine what was not most clearly taught by Scripture itself. And finally, those sacrilegious persons who have had the hardihood to alter Scripture in sev­ eral places would have been horrified at the enormity ofthe crime and would have stayed their impious hands. But ambition and iniquity have reached such a pitch that rel igion takes the form not so much of obedience to the teachings of the Holy Spirit as of defending what men have invented. Indeed, religion is manifested not in charity but in spreading contention among men and in fostering the bitterest hatred, under the false guise of zeal in God's cause and a burning enthusiasm. To

I [Here the Latin "olim et antiquitus t1 resistentibus" IS transcribed by Sptnoza from Rufmus AqUllelensis ( 1475), whose translation of Josephus was found 10 Spmoza's Itbrary. As it stands, the passage makes no sense Either the reading was corrupt, or Rufinus falled to understand the Greek idiom X9£� Ken 1tpol'r!V yey6vacnv I have therefore translated thiS phrase from the Greek of Josephus - s S. ]

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these evils is added superstition, which teaches men to despise reason and Nature, and to admire and venerate only that which is opposed to both. It is therefore not surprising that, to make Scripture appear more wonderful and awe-inspiring, they endeavour to explicate it in such a way that is seems diametrically opposed both to reason and to Nature. So they imagine that the most profound mysteries l ie hid­ den in the B ible, and they exhaust themselves in unravelling these absurdities while ignoring other things of value. They ascribe to the Holy Spirit whatever their wild fancies have invented, and devote their utmost strength and enthusiasm to defending i t. For human nature is so constituted that what men conceive by pure intellect, they defend only by intellect and reason, whereas the beliefs that spring from the emotions are emotionally defended.

In order to escape from this scene of confuSion, to free our minds from the prej­ udices of theologians and to avoid the hasty acceptance of human fabrications as divine teachings, we must discuss the true method of Scriptural interpretation and examine it in depth ; for unless we understand this we cannot know with any cer­ ta inty what the Bible or the Holy Spirit intends to teach. Now to put it briefly, I hold that the method of interpreting Scripture is no different from the method of interpreting Nature, and is in fact in complete accord with it. For the method of interpreting Nature consists essentially in composing a detailed study of Nature from which, as being the source of our assured data, we can deduce the defini­ tions of the thing. of Nature. Now in exactly the same way the task of Scriptural interpretation requires us to make a straightforward study of Scripture, and from this, as the source of our fixed data and principles, to deduce by logical inference the meaning of the authors of Scripture. In this way- that is, by allowing no other principles or data for the interpretation of Scripture and study of its contents ex­ cept those that can be gathered only from Scripture itself and from a h istorical study of Scripture-steady progress can be made without any danger of error, and one can deal with matters that surpass our understanding with no less confidence than those matters which are known to us by the natural l ight of reason.

But to establish clearly that this is not merely a sure way, but the only way open to us, and that it accords with the method of interpreting Nature, it should be ob­ served that Scripture frequently treats of matters that cannot be deduced from principles known by the natural l ight; for it is chiefly made up of historical nar­ ratives and revelation. Now an important feature of the h istorical narratives is the appearance of miracles; that is, as we showed in the previous chapter, stories of unusual occurrences in Nature, adapted to the bel iefs and judgment of the his­ torians who recorded them. The revelations, too, were adapted to the beliefs of the prophets, as we showed in Chapter 2; and these do, indeed, surpass human understanding. Therefore knowledge of all these thing.- that is, of almost all the contents of Scripture- must be sought from Scripture alone, just as knowledge of Nature must be sought from Nature itself

As for the moral doctrines that are also conta ined in the Bible, although these themselves can be demonstrated from accepted axioms, it cannot be proved from such axioms that Scripture teaches these doctrines: th is can be established only from Scripture itself Indeed, if we want to testify, without any prejudgment, to

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the divinity of Scripture, it must be made evident to us from Scripture alone that it teaches true moral doctrine; for i t is on this basis alone that its divinity can be proved. We have shown that the chief characteristic which established the cer­ tainty of the prophets was that their minds were directed to what was right and good; hence this must be made evident to us, too, before we can have fai th in them. We have already shown that miracles can never give proof of God's divin­ ity, apart from the fact that they could be wrought even by a false prophet. There­ fore the divinity of Scripture must be established solely from the fact that it teaches true virtue. Now this can be established only from Scripture. If this could not be done, our acceptance of Scripture and our witness to its divinity would argue great prejudice on our part. Therefore all knowledge of Scripture must be sought from Scripture alone.

Finally, Scripture does not provide us with definitions of the thing. of which i t speaks, any more than Nature does. Therefore, just as definitions of the thing. of Nature must be inferred from the various operations of Nature, in the same way definitions must be elicited from the various Biblical narratives as they touch on a particular subject. This, then, is the universal rule for the interpretation of Scrip­ ture, to ascribe no teaching to Scripture that is not clearly established from study­ ing it closely. What kind of study this should be, and what are the chief topics it should include, must now be explained.

I. I t should inform us of the nature and properties of the language in which the Bible was written and which its authors were accustomed to speak. Thus we should be able to investigate, from established linguistic usage, all the possible meanings of any passage. And since all the writers of both the Old and the New Testaments were Hebrews, a study of the Hebrew language must undoubtedly be a prime requisite not only for an understanding ofthe books of the Old Testament, which were written in that language, but also for the New Testament. For al­ though the latter books were published in other languages, their idiom is Hebraic.

2 . The pronouncements made in each book should be assembled and listed under heading., so that we can thus have to hand all the texts that treat of the same subject. N ex� we should note all those that are ambiguous or obscure, or that ap­ pear to contradict one another. Now here I term a pronouncement obscure or clear according to the degree of difficulty with which the meaning can be elicited from the context, and not according to the degree of difficulty with which its truth can be perceived by reason. For the point at issue is merely the meaning of the texts, not their truth. I would go further: in seeking the meaning of Scripture we should take every precaution against the undue influence, not only of our own prejudices, but of our facul ty of reason insofar as that is based on the principles of natural cognition. In order to avoid confus ion between true meaning and truth of fact, the former must be sought simply from l inguistic usage, or from a process of reasoning that looks to no other basis than Scripture.

For further clarification, I shall give an example to illustrate all that I have here said. The saying. of Moses, "God is fire," and "God is j ealous; are perfectly clear as long as we attend only to the meaning. of the words; and so, in spite of their ob­ scurity from the perspective of truth and reason, I classify these saying. as clear.

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Indeed, even though their l i teral meaning is opposed to the natural l ight of rea­ son, this l i teral meaning must nevertheless be reta ined unless it is in clear oppo­ sition to the basic principles derived from the study of Scripture. On the other hand, if these statements in their l i teral interpretation were found to be in con­ tradiction with the basic principles derived from Scripture, they would have to be interpreted differently (that is, metaphorically) even though they were in com­ plete agreement with reason. Therefore the question as to whether Moses did or did not believe that God is fire must in no wise be decided by the rational ity or ir­ rationality of the belief, but solely from other pronouncements of Moses. In th is particular case, since there are several other instances where Moses clearly tells us that God has no resemblance to visible things in heaven or on the earth or in the water, we must hence conclude that either th is statement or all those others must be explained metaphorically. Now since one should depart as l i ttle as pos­ s ible from the l i teral meaning, we should first enquire whether this single pro­ nouncement, 'God is fire: admits of any other than a l i teral meaning; that is, whether the word 'fire' can mean anything other than ordinary natural fire. If the word 'fire' is not found from l inguistic usage to have any other meaning, then neither should this statement be interpreted in any other way, however much it is opposed to reason, and all other passages should be made to conform with it, how­ ever much they accord with reason. If th is, too, should prove impossible on the basis of l inguistic usage, then these pronouncements would have to be regarded as irreconcilable, and we should therefore suspend judgment regarding them. However, since the word 'fire' is also used in the sense of anger or jealousy (Job ch. 31 v. 1 2) , Moses' pronouncements are easily reconciled, and we can properly conclude that these two statements, 'God is fire' and 'God is j ealous' are one and the same statement.

Again, as Moses clearly teaches that God is jealous and nowhere tells us that God is without passions or emotions, we must evidently conclude that Moses be­ lieved this, or at least that he intended to teach this, however strongly we may be convinced that this opinion is contrary to reason. For, as we have shown, it is not permissible for us to manipulate Scripture's meaning to accord with our reason's dictates and our preconceived opinions; all knowledge of the B ible is to be sought from the Bible alone.

3. Finally, our historical study should set forth the circumstances relevant to all the extant books of the prophets, giving the l ife, character and pursui ts of the author of every book, deta il ing who he was, on what occasion and at what time and for whom and in what language he wrote. Again, it should relate what hap­ pened to each book, how it was first received, into whose hands i t fell , how many variant versions there were, by whose decision it was received into the canon, and, finally, how all the books, now universally regarded as sacred, were united into a s ingle whole. All these details, I repeat, should be available from a historical study of Scripture; for in order to know which pronouncements were set forth as laws and which as moral teaching, it is important to be acquainted with the life, char­ acter and interests of the author. Furthermore, as we have a better understanding ofa person's character and temperament, so we can more easily explain h is words.

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Again, to avoid confusing teachings of eternal significance with those which are of only temporary significance or directed only to the benefit of a few, it is also im­ portant to know on what occasion, at what period, and for what nation or age all these teachings were written down. Finally, i t is important to know the other de­ tails we have listed so that, in addition to the authenticity of each book, we may also discover whether or not it may have been contaminated by spurious inser­ tions, whether errors have crept in, and whether these have been corrected by ex­ perienced and trustworthy scholars. All th is information is needed by us so that we may accept only what is certain and incontrovertible, and not be led by blind impetuosity to take for granted whatever is set before us.

Now when we possess th is historical account of Scripture and are firmly re­ solved not to assert as the indubitable doctrine ofthe prophets anything that does not follow from this study or cannot be most clearly inferred from it, i t will then be time to embark on the task of investigating the meaning of the prophets and the Holy Spirit. But for this task, too, we need a method and order similar to that which we employ in interpreting Nature from the facts presented before us. Now in examining natural phenomena we first of all try to discover those features that are most universal and common to the whole of Nature, to wit , motion-and-rest and the rules and laws governing them which Nature always observes and through which she constantly acts; and then we advance gradually from these to other less universal features. In just the same way we must first seek from our study of Scrip­ ture that which is most universal and forms the basis and foundation of all Scripture; in short, that which is commended in Scripture by all the prophets as doctrine eternal and most profitable for all mankind. For example, that God ex­ ists, one alone and omnipotent, who alone should be worshipped, who cares for all, who loves above all others those who worship him and love their neighbours as themselves. These and s imilar doctrines, I repeat, are taught everywhere in Scripture so clearly and expl icitly that no one has ever been in any doubt as to its meaning on these points . But what God is, in what way he sees and provides for all things and similar matters, Scripture does not teach formally, and as eternal doctrine. On the contrary, we have clearly shown that the prophets themselves were not in agreement on these matters, and therefore on topics of this kind we should make no assertion that claims to be the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, even though the natural l ight of reason may be quite decisive on that point.

Having acquired a proper understanding of th is universal doctrine of Scripture, we must then proceed to other matters which are of less universal import but af­ fect our ordinary daily l ife, and which flow from the universal doctrine l ike rivulets from their source. Such are all the specific external actions of true virtue which need a particular occasion for their exercise. If there be found in Scripture any­ thing ambiguous or obscure regarding such matters, it must be explained and de­ cided on the basis of the universal doctrine of Scripture. If any passages are found to be in contradiction with one another, we should consider on what occas ion, at what time, and for whom they were written. For example, when Christ says, "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted," we do not know from this text what kind of mourners are meant. But as Christ thereafter teaches that

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we should take thought for noth ing save only the kingdom of Cod and His right­ eousness, which he commends as the h ighest good (Matth. ch. 6 v. 3 3) , it follows that by mourners he means only those who mourn for man's disregard of the king­ dom of Cod and His righteousness; for only this can be the cause of mourning for those who love nothing but the kingdom of Cod, or justice, and utterly despise whatever else fortune has to offer.

So, too, when Christ says, "But if a man strike you on the right cheek, turn to him the left also' and the words that follow, if he were laying this command on judges in the role oflawgiver, this precept would have violated the law of Moses. But he expressly warns against this (Matth. ch. 5 v. 1 7) . Therefore we should con­ s ider who said this, to whom, and at what time. This was said by Christ, who was not ordaining laws as a lawgiver, but was expounding his teachings as a teacher, because (as we have already shown) he was intent on improving men's minds rather than their external actions. Further, he spoke these words to men suffering under oppression, l iving in a corrupt commonwealth where justice was utterly dis­ regarded, a commonwealth whose ruin he saw to be imminent. Now we see that this very same teaching, which Christ here expounds when the ruin of the city was imminent, was also given by Jeremiah in similar circumstances at the first de­ struction of the city (Lamentations ch. 3 v. 30) . Thus it was only at the time of op­ pression that the prophets taught th is doctrine which was nowhere set forth as law; whereas Moses (who did not write at a time of oppression, but- please note-was concerned to found a good commonweal th) , although he l ikewise condemned revenge and hatred against one's neighbour, yet demanded an eye for an eye. Therefore i t clearly follows simply on Scriptural grounds that this teaching of Christ and Jeremiah concerning the toleration of in jury and total submission to the wicked applies only in situations where justice is disregarded and at times of oppression, but not in a good commonwealth. Indeed, in a good commonwealth where justice is upheld, everyone who wants to be accounted as just has the duty to go before a judge and demand justice for wrongdoing (Lev. ch. 5 v. I ) , not out of revenge (Lev. ch. 19 v. 1 7, 1 8) , but with the purpose of upholding justice and the laws of h is country, and to prevent the wicked from rejoicing in their wicked­ ness. All this is plainly in accord with the natural reason. I could produce many more similar examples, but I th ink this is sufficient to explain my meaning and the usefulness of th is method, which is my only object at present.

Now up to th is point we have confined our investigation to those Scriptural pronouncements which are concerned with moral conduct, and which can be the more easily elucidated because on such subjects there has never been any real difference of opinion among the writers of the Bible. But other b ibl ical passages which belong only to the field of philosophical speculation do not y ield so easily to investigation. The approach is more difficult, for the prophets differed among themselves in matters of philosoph ical speculation (as we have already shown) and their narratives conform especially to the prejudices of their particular age. So we are debarred from deducing and explaining the meaning of one prophet from some clearer passages in another, unless it is most plainly established that they were of one and the same mind. I shall therefore briefly explain how in such

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cases we should elicit the meaning of the prophets from the study of Scripture. Here, again, we must begin from considerations of a most general kind, first of all seeking to establish from the clearest Scriptural pronouncements what is prophecy or revelation and what is its essential nature; then what is a miracle, and so on with other subjects of a most general nature. Thereafter we must move on to the bel iefS of individual prophets, and from there finally to the meaning of each particular revelation or prophecy, narrative and miracle. We have already pointed out with many apposite examples what great caution we should exercise in these matters to avoid confusing the minds of the prophets and historians with the mind of the Holy Spirit and with factual truth, and so I do not think it necessary to say any more on th is subject. But with regard to the meaning of revelation, it should be observed that this method only teaches us how to discover what the prophets really saw or heard, and not what they intended to signify or represent by the sym­ bols in questions. The latter we can only guess at, not infer with certa inty from the basis of Scripture.

We have thus set out our plan for interpreting Scripture, at the same time demonstrating that th is is the only sure road to the discovery of its true meaning. I do indeed admit that those are better informed (if there are any) who are in pos­ session of a sure tradition or true explanation transmitted from the prophets them­ selves, as the Pharisees cla im, or those who have a pontiff whose interpretation of Scripture is infall ible, as the Roman Cathol ics boast. However, as we cannot be sure either of the tradition in question or of the authority of the pontiff, we cannot base any certa in conclusion on them. The latter is denied by the earliest Christians, the former by the most ancient sects of the Jews; and if, furthermore, we examine the succession of years (to mention noth ing else) through which this tradition is traced right back to Moses, which the Pharisees have accepted from their Rabbis, we shall find that it is incorrect, as I prove elsewhere. Therefore such a tradition should be regarded with the utmost suspicion; and although our method requires us to accept as uncorrupted a certain tradition of the Jews­ namely, the meaning of the words of the Hebrew language, which we have ac­ cepted from them -we can be quite sure of the one while doubting the other. For while it may occasionally have been in someone's interest to alter the meaning of some passage, it could never have been to anyone's interest to change the mean­ ing of a word. Indeed, th is is very difficult to accompl ish , for whoever would try to change the meaning of a word would also have to explain all the writers who wrote in that language and used that word in its accepted meaning, in each case taking account of the character or intention of the writer; or else he would have to falsify the text, a task requiring much circumspection. Then again, a language is preserved by the learned and unlearned al ike, whereas books and the meaning of their contents are preserved only by the learned. Therefore we can readily con­ ceive that the learned may have altered or corrupted the meaning of some pas­ sage in a rare book which they had in their possession, but not the meaning of words. Besides which, if anyone should wish to change the customary meaning of a word, he would find it difficult to maintain consistency thereafter both in h is writing and in h is speaking.

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For these and other reasons we may readily assume that it could never have en­ tered anyone's mind to corrupt a language, whereas there may frequently have been an intention to corrupt the meaning of a writer by altering what he wrote or by giving it a wrong interpretation. Therefore, s ince our method (based on the prin­ ciple that knowledge of Scripture must be sought only from Scripture) is the only true method, if there is anything that it cannot achieve for us in our pursuit of a complete understanding of Scripture, we must regard this as quite unattainable.

At this point I have to discuss any difficulties and shortcomings in our method which may stand in the way of our acquiring a complete and assured knowledge of the Holy Bible. The first importan t d ifficul ty in our method is this, that it de­ mands a thorough knowledge of the Hebrew language. Where is th is now to be obtained? The men of old who used the Hebrew language have left to posterity no information conceming the basic principles and study of th is language. At any rate, we possess nothing at all from them, neither dictionary nor grammar nor textbook on rhetoric. The Hebrew nation has lost all its arts and embell ishments (little wonder, in view of the disasters and persecutions it has suffered) and has re­ tained only a few remnants of its language and of its books, few in number. Nearly all the words for fruits, birds, fishes have perished with the passage of time, to­ gether with numerous other words. Then again, the meanings of many nouns and verbs occurring in the Bible are either completely unknown or subject to dispute. We are deprived not only of these, but more especially of the knowledge of Hebrew phraseology. The idiom and modes of speech pecul iar to the Hebrew nation have almost all been consigned to oblivion by the ravages of time. So we cannot always discover to our satisfaction all the possible meanings which a par­ ticular passage can y ield from l inguistic usage; and there are many passages where the sense is very obscure and quite incomprehensible although the component words have a clearly established meaning.

Besides our inabil ity to present a complete account of the Hebrew language, there is the further problem presented by the composition and nature of that lan­ guage. Th is gives rise to so many ambiguities as to render it impossible to devise a method' that can teach us with certainty how to discover the true meaning of all Scriptural passages; for apart from the sources of ambiguity that are common to all languages, there are others peculiar to Hebrew wh ich give rise to many am­ bigu ities. These I th ink it worth l isting here.

First, ambiguity and obscurity in the Bible are often caused by the fact that let­ ters involving the same organ of speech are substituted one for another. The He­ brews divide all letters of the alphabet into five classes in accordance with the five oral instruments employed in their pronunciation , namely, the l ips, the tongue, the teeth, the palate and the throat. For example, n, y, n, K alef. �et, 'ayin, he are called gutturals, and are used one in place of another without any distinction ap­ parent to us. For instance, ?K el, which means 'to', is often used for ?Y 'ai, which means 'above', and vice-versa. As a result, any parts of a text may often be rendered ambiguous or appear to be meaningless utterances.

'" See Supplementary Note 7

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A second ambiguity arises from the multiple meanings of conjunctions and ad­ verbs. For example, , vav serves indiscriminately to j oin and to separate, and can mean 'and', 'but', 'because', 'however' and 'then'. ':) ki has seven or eight mean­ ings: 'because', 'although', 'if, 'when', ' just as', 'that', 'a burning' and so on. Th is is the case with almost all particles.

Thirdly-and the source of many ambiguities-verbs in the Indicative mood lack the Present, the Past Imperfect, the Pluperfect and the Future Perfect, and other tenses in common use in other languages. In the Imperative and Infinitive moods verbs lack all the tenses except the Present, and in the Subjunctive there are no tenses at all. And although all the tenses and moods thus lacking could have been supplied, with ease and even with great elegance, by definite rules de­ duced from the fundamental principles of language, the writers of old showed complete disregard for such rules, and indiscriminately used Future for Present and Past, and contrariwise Past for Future, and furthermore used Indicative for Imperative and Subjunctive, to the great detriment of clarity.

Besides these three sources of ambiguity in Hebrew there remain two more to be noted, both of which are of far greater importance. First, the Hebrews do not have letters for vowels. Secondly, it was not their custom to punctuate their texts, nor to give them force or emphasis; and although vowels and punctuation thus lacking are usually supplied by points and accen ts, these cannot satisfy us, having been devised and instituted by men of a later age whose authority should carry no weight with us. The ancient writers did not employ points (that is, vowels and ac­ cents) , as is abundantly testified; men of later ages added both of these in accor­ dance with their own interpretation of the B ible. Therefore the accents and poin ts that we now have are merely contemporary interpretations, and deserve no more credibility and authority than other commentaries. Those who fa il to realise this do not understand the justification of the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews (ch. I I v. 2 1 ) in giving an interpretation of the text of Genesis ch. 47 v. 31 very different from that of the pOinted Hebrew text-as if the Apostle ought to have been taught the meaning of Scripture by those who inserted points! In my opin­ ion it is the latter who should be regarded as at fault. To make this clear to all, and to show how different interpretations arise simply from the absence of vowels, I shall here set down both interpretations.

Those who inserted the points interpreted the passage as follows: 'and to Israel bent over (or, changing y 'ayin into K ale{, a letter of the same organ, towards) the head of the bed: The author of the Epistle reads 'and Israel bent over the head of h is staff; reading 'mate' for 'mila', the only difference being in the vowels. Now since in th is part of the story there is only a question of Jacob's age, and not of h is illness which is mentioned in the next chapter, it seems more probable that the historian intended to say that Jacob bent over the head of his staff (which men of advanced age employ to support themselves), not of the bed; and th is is especially so because this interpretation does not require the substitution of one letter for another. Now my purpose in giving this example is not only to harmonise the pas­ sage in the Epistle to the Hebrews with the text of Genesis, but also to show how l ittle confidence is to be placed in modern points and accents. Thus he who

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would interpret Scripture without any prejudice is in duty bound to hold these in doubt and to examine them afresh.

To return to our theme, such being the structure and nature of the Hebrew lan­ guage, it is quite understandable that such a number of ambiguities must arise that no method can be devised for deciding them all. For we have no grounds for expecting that this can be completely achieved from a comparison of different passages, which we have shown to be the only way to el icit the true meaning from the many senses which a particular passage can yield with lingu istic justification. I t is only by chance that a comparison of passages can throw l ight on any partic­ ular passage, since no prophets wrote with the deliberate purpose of explaining another's words, or his own. And furthermore, we can draw no conclusion as to the meaning of one prophet or apostIe from the mean ing of another except in mat­ ters of moral conduct, as we have already convincingly demonstrated; no such conclusions can be drawn when they are deal ing with philosophical questions, or are narrating miracles or history. I could bring further examples to prove th is point, that there are many inexplicable passages in Scripture; but I prefer to leave this subject for the present, and I shall proceed to a consideration of the points that still rema in: the further difficulties we encounter in th is true method of Scrip­ tural interpretation, or in what way it falls shorl

One further difficulty consequent upon th is method is this, that it requires an account of the history of all the bibl ical books, and this for the most part we can­ not provide. As I shall make clear at some length at a later stage, we either have no knowledge at all or but doubtful knowledge of the authors-or if you prefer the expression, the writers-of many of the books. Again, we do not even know on what occasion or at what time these books of unknown authorship were writ­ ten . Furthermore, we do not know into whose hands all these books fell, or in whose copies so many different readings were found, nor yet again whether there were not many other versions in other hands. When I touched on this topic I did make a brief reference to the importance of knowing all these details, but there I deliberately passed over certain considerations which must now be taken up.

If we read a book relating events which are incredible or incomprehensible, or which is written in a very obscure style, and if we do not know the author or the time or the occasion of its composition, it well be vain for us to try to achieve a greater understanding of its true meaning. Deprived of all these facts we cannot possibly know what was, or could have been, the author's intention. But if we are fully informed of these facts, we are in a position to form an opinion free from all danger of mistaken assumptions; that is to say, we ascribe to the author, or to him for whom he wrote, no more and no less than his just meaning, concentrating our attention on what the author could have had in mind, or what the time and the occasion demanded. I imagine that everyone is agreed on this; for i t often hap­ pens that we read in different books stories tha t are much al ike, and form very dif­ ferent judgments of them according to our opin ions of the writers. I remember once having read a book about a man named Orlando Furioso who used to ride a winged monster in the sky, fly over any regions he chose and s inglehanded slay huge numbers of men and giants, together with other similar fantastic happen-

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ings which are quite incomprehensible in respect to our intellect. Now I had read a similar story in Ovid about Perseus, and another story in the books of Judges and Kings about Samson, who singlehanded and unarmed slew thousands of men , and of Eli jah, who flew through the air and finally went to heaven in a chariot and horses of fire. These stories, I repeat, are obviously similar, yet we form a very different judgment of each. The first writer was concerned only to amuse, the sec­ ond had a pol itical motive, the th ird a religious motive, and it is nothing else but our opinion of the writers that brings us to make these judgments. It is therefore evident that in the case of obscure or incomprehensible writings, it is essential for us to have some knowledge of the authors if we seek to interpret their writings. And for the same reasons, to choose the correct reading out of the various read­ ings of unclear narratives, we have to know in whose manuscript these different readings are found, and whether there were ever some other versions supported by men of greater authority.

In the case of certa in books of the Bible, our method of interpretation involves the further difficulty that we do not possess them in the language in which they were first written. The Gospel according to Matthew and undoubtedly the Epis­ tle to the Hebrews were written in Hebrew, it is commonly held , but are not ex­ tant in that form. There is some doubt as to the language in which the Book of Job was written. Ibn Ezra, in h is commentaries, asserts that it was translated into Hebrew from another language, and that this is the reason for its obscurity. I say nothing of the apocryphal books, since their authority is of a very different kind.

Such then , is a full account of the difficulties involved in this method of in­ terpreting Scripture from its own history, such as we possess. These difficulties, which I undertook to recount, I consider so grave that I have no hesitation in af­ firming that in many instances we either do not know the true meaning of Scrip­ ture or we can do no more than make conjecture. But on the other hand I must again emphasise, with regard to all these difficulties, that they can prevent us from grasping the meaning of the prophets only in matters beyond normal compre­ hension , which can merely be imagined; it is not true of matters open to intel­ lectual perception, whereof we can readily form a clear conception.' For things which of their own nature are readily apprehended can never be so obscurely worded that they are not easily understood; as the proverb says, 'a word to the wise is enough: Eucl id, whose writings are concerned only with things exceedingly simple and perfectly intelligible, is easily made clear by anyone in any language; for in order to grasp his thought and to be assured of his true meaning there is no need to have a thorough knowledge of the language in which he wrote. A super­ ficial and rudimentary knowledge is enough. Nor need we enquire into the au­ thor's l ife, pursuits and character, the language in which he wrote, and for whom and when , nor what happened to h is book, nor its different readings, nor how it came to be accepted and by what council. And what we here say of Euclid can be said of all who have written on matters which of their very nature are capable of intellectual apprehension.

'" See Supplementary Note 8

Chapter 7 467

Thus we can conclude that, with the help of such a historical study of Scrip­ ture as is ava ilable to us, we can readily grasp the meanings of its moral doctrines and be certain of their true sense. For the teachings of true piety are expressed in quite ordinary language, and being directed to the generality of people they are therefore straightforward and easy to understand. And since true salvation and blessedness consist in true contentment of mind and we find our true peace only in what we clearly understand, it most evidently follows that we can understand the meaning of Scripture with confidence in matters relating to salvation and nec­ essary to blessedness. Therefore we have no reason to be unduly anxious con­ cerning the other contents of Scripture; for since for the most part they are be­ yond the grasp of reason and intellec� they belong to the sphere of the curious rather than the profitable.

I consider that I have now displayed the true method of Scriptural interpreta­ tion and have sufficiently set forth my opinion on this matter. Furthermore, I have no doubt that it is now obvious to all that this method demands no other light than the natural l ight of reason. For the nature and virtue of that l ight consists essen­ tially in th is, that by a process oflogical deduction that which is h idden is inferred and concluded from what is known, or given as known. This is exactly what our method requires. And although we grant that our method does not suffice to ex­ plain with certa inty everything that is found in the Bible, this is the consequence not of the defectiveness of the method but of the fact that the path which it tells us is the true and correct one has never been pursued nor trodden by men, and so with the passage of time has become exceedingly difficult and almost impass­ able. This I imagine is qu ite clear from the very difficulties I have recounted.

It now remains for me to examine the views of those who disagree with me. The first to be considered is held by those who maintain that the natural l ight of reason does not have the power to interpret Scripture, and thata supernatural l ight is absolutely essential for th is task. What they mean by this l ight that is beyond the natural l ight I leave them to explain. For my own part, I can only surmise that they wish to admi� using rather obscure terminology, that they too are for the most part in doubt as to the true meaning of Scripture; for if we consider their explanations, we find that they contain nothing of the supernatural - indeed, nothing but the merest conjectures. Let them be compared if you please, with the explanations of those who frankly admit that they possess no other l ight but the natural l ight. They will be found to be remarkably similar; that is to say, their explanations are hu­ man, the fruit of long thought, and elaborately devised. As to their assertions that the natural l igh t is insufficient for this task, that is plainly false, for two reasons. In the first place, we have already proved that the difficulty of interpreting Scripture arises not from the lack of power of the natural l igh� but from the negligence (not to say mal ice) of those who fa iled to compile a h istorical study of Scripture while that was still possible. Secondly, everyone will admit, I imagine, that this super­ natural l ight is a divine gift granted only to the faithful. Now the prophets and the apostles preached not only to the faithful, but especially to unbelievers and the impious. So their audiences must have been capable of understanding the mean­ ing of the prophets and the apostles; otherwise these latter would have appeared

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to be preaching to children and babies, not to men endowed with reason . Moses, too, would have orda ined his laws in va in if they could have been understood only by the fa ithful, who stand in no need of law. Therefore those who look to a su­ pernatural l ight to understand the meaning of the prophets and the apostles are sadly in need of the natural l ight; and so I can hardly th ink that such men possess a divine supernatural gift.

Maimonides took a quite different view; for he held that every passage of Scrip­ ture admits of various-and even contrary- meanings, and that we cannot be cer­ ta in of the true meaning of any passage unless we know that, as we interpret it, there is nothing in that passage that is not in agreement with reason, or is contrary to reason. If in its l iteral sense it is found to be contrary to reason , then however clear the passage may appear, he maintains that it must be interpreted in a dif­ ferent way. This view he sets out most clearly in chapter 25 of part 2 of his book 'More Nebuchim:1 where he says: "Know that it is not the Scriptural texts con­ cerning the creation of the world that withholds me from saying that the world has existed from eternity. The texts that teach that the world was created are not more numerous than those that teach that God is corporeaL There are ways, not barred to us, nor even difficult of access, by which we can explain those texts that deal with the question of the world's creation. Our explanation could have fol­ lowed the same l ines as when we denied corporeality of God; and perhaps th is might have been much easier to achieve, and we might have expla ined the texts and established the eternity of the world more plausibly than when we explained Scripture in a way that removed the notion of corporeality from God, blessed be He. Yet there are two reasons that prevent me from so doing and from believing that the world is eternaL Firs� there is clear proof that God is not corporeal , and it is necessary to explain all those passages whose literal meaning is contrary to that proof; for it is certain that they must then have an explanation other than the l iteraL But the eternity of the world has not been proved; so it is not necessary to do violence to the Scriptural texts and explain them away merely because of a plausible opinion, when we might incline to a contrary opinion with some degree of reason. Secondly, the belief that God is incorporeal is not contrary to the basic tenets of the Law, whereas the belief that the world is eternal, in the way that Aris­ totle held, destroys the very foundations of the Law."

Such are the words of Maimonides, and they clearly confirm what we said above. For if he had been convinced on rational grounds that the world is eter­ nal, he would not have hesitated to distort and expla in away Scripture until it ap­ peared to teach the same doctrine. Indeed, he would have been quite convinced that Scripture, in spite of its pla in denials at every point, intended to teach th is same doctrine of the eternity of the world. So he cannot be sure of the true mean­ ing of Scripture, however clearly stated, as long as he can doubt the truth of what it says, or as long as he is not convinced of it. For as long as we are not convinced of the truth of a statement, we cannot know whether it is in conformity with rea-

I [The title of the book that Spmoza Cites is the Hebrew title for Malmomdes' Guide of the PeTplexed J

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son or contrary to i� and consequently neither can we know whether the l iteral meaning is true or false.

If this view were correct, I would unreservedly concede that we need a l ight other than the natural l ight to interpret Scripture; for nearly all the contents of Scripture are such as cannot be deduced from principles known by the natural l igh� as we have already shown. Thus the natural l ight does not enable us to reach any decisions as to their truth, nor therefore as to the true sense and meaning of Scripture. For this purpose we should necessarily need another kind oflight. Then again, if this view were correct, it would follow that the common people, for the most part knowing nothing of logical reasoning or without leisure for i� would have to rely solely on the authority and testimony of philosophers for their un­ derstanding of Scriptu re, and would therefore have to assume that philosophers are infallible in their interpretations of Scripture. This would indeed be a novel form of ecclesiastical authority, with very strange priests or pontiffs, more l ikely to excite men's ridicule than veneration. And although our own method demands a knowledge of Hebrew, for which study the common people can l ikewise have no leisure, it is not open to the same sort of objection . The common people of the Jews and Gentiles for whom the prophets and apostles once preached and wrote, understood the language of the prophets and apostles and thereby they also com­ prehended the meaning of the prophets, but without understanding the rational justification of the prophets' message. Yet, according to Maimon ides , this under­ standing was also necessary if they were to grasp the meaning of the prophets. There is nothing, then, in our method that requires the common people to abide by the testimony of biblical commentators, for I can point to a people who were familiar with the language of the prophets and apostles. But Maimonides cannot point to a people capable of understanding the causes of th ings, which would be a necessary basis for understanding the meaning of the prophets. And as to the common people of our own time, we have already shown that whatsoever is nec­ essary for salvation, even though its rational justification be not understood, can be readily grasped in any language, because it is couched in ordinary and fa­ mil iar terms; and it is this understanding, not the testimony of bibl ical com­ mentators, that gains acceptance with the common people. And as for the rest of Scripture, the common people are on the same footing as the learned.

But let us return to the view put forward by Maimonides, and examine it more closely. In the first place, he assumes that the prophets were in agreement on all matters, and that they were outstanding philosophers and theologians; for he holds that they based their conclusions on scientific truth. But in Chapter 2 we have shown that this is not so. Then again , he assumes that the meaning of Scrip­ ture cannot be established from Scripture itself. For scientific truth is not estaJ>. l ished from Scripture itself, which does not engage in demonstrations and does not validate its teaching by appealing to definitions and first causes. And there­ fore, according to Maimonides, neither can Scripture's true meaning be estaJ>. l ished from itself, and should not be sought from it. But it is evident from th is chapter that th is point, too, is false. We have demonstrated both by reasoning and by examples that the meaning of Scripture is established from Scripture alone,

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and should be sought only from Scripture even when it is speaking of matters known by the natural l igh t of reason. Finally, he assumes that it is legitimate for us to explain away and distort the words of Scripture to accord with our precon­ ceived opin ions, to deny its l iteral meaning and change it into something else even when it is perfectly pla in and absolutely clear. Such l icence, apart from being di­ ametrically opposed to the proofs advanced in this chapter and elsewhere, must strike everyone as excessive and rash.

However, granting him this considerable degree ofl iberty, what in the end can it effect? Assuredly, nothing whatsoever. Those things that are not subject to proof and which make up the greater part of Scripture cannot yield to an enquiry of th is sort, nor be explained or interpreted according to this rule; whereas by pursuing our method we can explain many things of th is kind and investigate them with confidence, as we have already shown both by reason and by concrete example. And in the case of things that are by their nature comprehensible, their meaning can easily be el icited merely from their contex� as we have also shown. Thus th is method of Maimonides is plainly of no value. Furthermore, he clearly deprives the common people of any confidence they can have in the meaning of Scripture derived from simply perusing it; and yet this confidence is available to all by pur­ suing a different method. Therefore we can dismiss Maimon ides' view as harm­ ful, unprofitable and absurd.

As to the tradition of the Pharisees, we have already declared that it lacks con­ sistency, while the authority of the Popes of Rome stands in need of clearer evi­ dence. This is my only reason for impugning the latter, for if they could prove it from Scripture itself with the same degree of certainty as did the Jewish High Priests of long ago, I should not be influenced by the fact that among the Popes there have been found heretics and impious men. Among the Hebrew High Priests, too, in the past were found heretics and impious men, who ga ined the priesthood by underhanded means; and yet by Scriptural sanction they possessed the supreme power to interpret the Law. See Deul ch. 17 v. I I , 12 and ch. 33 v. 1 0 , and Malachi ch. 2 v. 8. But since the Popes can produce no such evidence, their authority remains highly suspect. The example of the Jewish High Priest ought not to deceive one into thinking that the Cathol ic rel igion also stands in need of a h igh pries� for i t should be noted that the laws of Moses, being h is coun­ try's civil laws, necessarily stood in need of some publ ic authority to uphold them. If every man were free to interpret the civil laws as he chose, no state could sur­ vive; by that very fact it would be instantly dissolved, and public right would be­ come private right.

Now with religion the case is quite different. Since it consists in honesty and sincerity of he art rather than in outward actions, it does not pertain to the sphere of publ ic law and authority. Honesty and sincerity of he art is not imposed on man by legal command or by the state's authority. I t is an absolute fact that nobody can be constra ined to a state of blessedness by force or law; to th is end one needs godly and brotherly exhortation, a good upbringing, and most of all, a judgment that is independent and free.

Therefore, as the sovereign right to free opinion belongs to every man even in

Chapter 8 47 1

matters of rel igion, and it is inconceivable that any man can surrender this right, there also belongs to every man the sovereign rightand supreme authority to judge freely with regard to rel igion, and consequently to explain it and interpret it for himself. The supreme authority to interpret laws and the supreme judgment on affairs of state is vested in magistrates for this reason only, that these belong to the sphere of public right. Thus for the same reason the supreme authority to explain rel igion and to make judgment concerning it is vested in each individual , because it belongs to the sphere of individual right.

I t is, then, far from true tha t the authority of the Hebrew High Priest in in­ terpreting his country's laws enables us to infer the Pope's authority to interpret religion ; on the contrary, a rnore obvious inference is that the in terpretation of religion is vested above all in each individual . And this again affords further proof that our rnethod of Scriptural interpretation is the best. For since the suprerne au­ thority for the interpretation of Scripture is vested in each individual , the rule that governs interpretation must be nothing other than the natural l ight that is com­ mon to all , and not any supernatural l ight, nor any eternal authority. Nor must this rule be so difficul t as not to be ava ilable to any but skilled philosophers ; it must be suited to the natural and universal abil ity and capacity of mankind . We have shown that our rule answers to this description; for we have seen that such difficulties as are now to be found in it have arisen from the negligence of men, and are not inherent in our method.

C HAPTER 8

In which it is shown that the Pentateuch and the Books ofJoshua, Judges, Ruth, Samuel and Kings were not written by themselves.

The question of their authorship is considered. Was there one author, or several, and who were they?

In the preceding chapter we discussed the foundations and principles of Scrip­ tural knowledge, and showed that th is consists simply in a thorough historical study of Scripture . In spite of its indispensability, the writers of ancient times fa iled to compile such a study, or if in fact they did compile or transmit one, it has dis­ appeared through the ravages of time, consequently leaving us to a great extent deprived of the foundations and principles of Scriptural knowledge. Th is loss would not have been so serious iflater generations had kept within the bounds of truth and had faithfully transmitted to their successors the few facts they had re­ ceived or discovered, without the addition of new ideas of their own devising. As it is, the historical study of Scripture has remained not merely incomplete but prone to error; that is, the foundations of Scriptural knowledge are not only too scanty to form the basis for a complete understanding, but are also unsound. It

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belongs to my purpose to correct these faults and to remove common theological prejudices. But I fear that I approach this task too late; for matters have almost reached such a pass that men will not endure correction on this subject, and will obstinately defend what they have embraced in the name of rel igion . It is only with very few, comparatively speaking, that there seems any place left for reason , so pervasively have these prejudices seized upon men's minds. However, I shall make the attempt and persevere in my efforts, since there is no reason for utter despair.

To treat the matter in logical order, I shall first deal with misconceptions re­ garding the true authorsh ip of the Sacred Books, beginning with the Pentateuch. The author is almost universally believed to be Moses, a view so obstinately de­ fended by the Pharisees that they have regarded any other view as heresy. It was for this reason that ibn Ezra, a man of enlightened mind and considerable learn­ ing, who was the first, as far as I know, to call attention to this misconception, did not venture to explain h is meaning openly, and expressed himself somewhat ob­ scurely in words which I shall here not hesitate to elucidate, making his meaning quite pla in.

The words of ibn Ezra in his commentary on Deuteronomy are as follows: "'Beyond the Jordan, etc.' If you understand the mystery of the twelve, and also 'Moses wrote the Law; and, 'the Canaanite was then in the land; 'it shall be re­ vealed on the Mount of God; and again 'Behold his bed, a bed of iron; then shall you know the truth." In these few words he gives a clear indication that it was not Moses who wrote the Pentateuch but someone else who lived long after him, and that it was a different book that Moses wrote. To make this clear, he draws atten­ tion to the following points:

1. The preface to Deuteronomy could not have been written by Moses, who did not cross the Jordan .

2 . The Book of Moses was inscribed in its entirety on no more than the cir­ cumference of a single altar (Deut. ch. 27 and Joshua ch. 8 v. 30 etc. ) , and th is altar, according to the Rabbis, consisted of only twelve stones. From this it follows that the Book of Moses must have required far less space than the Pentateuch. This, I say, was what our author meant by h is reference to 'the mystery of the twelve; unless he was referring to the twelve curses in the aforementioned chap­ ter of Deuteronomy. Perhaps he believed that these could not have been con­ tained in Moses' Book of the Law, because Moses bids the Levites read out these curses in addition to the recital of the Law, so as to bind the people by oath to ob­ serve the recited laws. Or aga in he may have wished to draw attention to the last chapter of Deuteronomy concerning the death of Moses, a chapter consisting of twelve verses. But there is no need here to give closer scrutiny to these and other conjectures.

3 . Deuteronomy ch. 3 1 v. 9 says, "And Moses wrote the Law." These words cannot be ascribed to Moses; they must be those of another writer narrating the deeds and writings of Moses.

4. In Genesis ch. 12 v. 6 when the narrative tells of Abraham journeying through the land of Canaan, the historian adds, "the Canaanite was then in the

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land," thereby clearly excluding the time at which he was writing. So this passage must have been written after the death of Moses when the Canaanites had been driven out and no longer possessed those lands. In his commentary of th is passage ibn Ezra makes the same point in these words: " 'And the Canaanite was then in the land.' It appears that Canaan (the grandson of Noah) took the land of Canaan which had been in the possession of another. If th is is not the true meaning, some mystery l ies here, and let him who understands it keep silent." That is to say, if Canaan invaded that land, then the sense will be that the Canaanite was already in the land, as opposed to some past time when the land was inhabited by another nation. But if Canaan was the first to settle in that region (as follows from Gen. ch. 1 0) , then the words are intended to exclude the present time, that is, the time of the author. This could not be Moses, in whose time the land was still possessed by the Canaanites; and this is the mystery concerning wh ich ibn Ezra urges si­ lence.

5 . In Genesis ch. 22 v. 14 Mount Moriah* is called the MountofGod , a name it did not acquire until after it was assigned to the building of the temple. Th is choice of moun lain was not made in the time of Moses, for Moses does not indi­ cate any position as chosen by God. On the contrary, he foretells that God will at some time choose a place to which his name will be given .

6. Lastly, in Deuteronomy ch. 3 v. I I , in the narrative about Og, king of Bashan , these words are inserted, "Only Og, king of Bashan, rema ined as the sole survivor of the giants . * * Behold, h is bedstead was a bedstead of iron , the bedstead that is now in Rabbah of the children of Ammon, nine cubits long . . . . " This paren­ thesis shows most clearly that the writer of these books lived long after the time of Moses, for this manner of speaking can characterise only one who is narrating an­ cient history and is pointing to relics to prove his assertion. There is no doubt that this bed was first discovered in the time of David, who conquered this city, as re­ lated in 2 Sam. ch. 1 2 v. 30. A further example of words being inserted in Moses' narrative occurs a l i ttle further on, where the same historian says, "jair, the son of Manasseh, took all the region of Argob as far as the Geshurite and Maacathite bor­ der, and called them after his own name Bashan Hawoth jair unto this day." The historian , I say, added these words so as to explain the words of Moses which he had just related, to wit, "And the rest of Gilead and all Bashan, the kingdom of Og, gave I unto the half-tribe ofManasseh, all the region of Argob with all Bashan , which i s called the land o f giants." There i s no doubt that a t the time o f th is writer the Hebrews knew what was Hawoth ja ir of the tribe of judah, but not under the name of the region of Argob, nor the land of giants. So he was forced to explain what these places were that were so called in antiquity, and at the same time give reason why in his time they took the name of jair, who was of the tribe of judah, not Manasseh (see I Chron. ch. 2 v . 2 1 , 22) .

• See Supplementary Note 9. U The Hebrew 'rephaim' means 'the condemned,' and from 1 Chron ch 20 it also appears to be a

proper name. For thiS reason I think It IS here a family name.

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We have now set forth the view of ibn Ezra , and the passages of the Pentateuch which he cites in support Yet he did not call attention to all such passages, nor even the principal ones; for there are many other passages in these books, and of greater significance, which have yet to be cited.

I. The writer of these books not only speaks of Moses in the th ird person, but also bears witness to many details concerning him: for instance, 'God talked with Moses' 'God spake with Moses face to face' 'Moses was the meekest of men' (Num. ch. 12 v. 3) , 'Moses was wrath with the capta ins of the hosf (Num. ch. 3 1 v. 14) , 'Moses, the man of God' (Deut. ch. 3 3 v. I ) , 'Moses, the servant o f God, died; 'There has never arisen in Israel a prophet l ike Moses; and so on. On the other hand, in Deuteronomy, where the Law, which Moses had expounded to the people and put in written form, is set forth, Moses speaks and narrates his deeds in the first person; for instance, 'God spoke to me' (Deut ch. 2 v. I , 17 etc.) , 'I prayed to God; and so on. However, later on towards the end of the book, after the historian has reported the words of Moses, he again continues the narrative in the third person, tell ing how Moses handed over to the people in written form the Law he had expounded, with his last admonition , and how he came to the end of his life. All these considerations- the manner of speaking, the giving of testimony, the very structure of the entire history-lead us to the plain conclusion that these books were written not by Moses, but by another.

2 . It should further be added that this history not only narrates the death of Moses, his burial, and the thirty days mourning of the Hebrews, but also draws a comparison between Moses and all the other prophets who came after him, de­ claring that he excelled them aiL "There has never arisen in Israel a prophet l ike Moses; he says, "whom God knew face to face." Such testimony could never have been given by Moses of himself, nor by any immediate successor, but by some­ one who lived many generations later, and particularly so since the historian seems to be speaking of some remote time, as in "there has never arisen a prophet;' etc. And he says of h is place of burial, "Nobody knows it unto this day."

3. Some places are indicated not by the names they bore in Moses' time, but by other names which they only later acquired. For instance, Abraham "pursued the enemy even unto Dan" (Gen. ch. 14 v. 14), a name not given to that city un­ til long after the death of Joshua (Judges ch. 18 v. 29).

4. The narrative sometimes continues beyond the death of Moses, for in Exo­ dus ch. 16 v. 35 we are told that 'the children of Israel did eat manna forty years until they came to a land inhabited, until they came unto the borders of the land of Canaan'; that is to say, until the time referred to in Joshua ch. 5 v. 12. Aga in, in Genesis ch. 36 v. 31 we read, 'These are the kings that reigned in Edom before there reigned any king over the children ofisraeL' Undoubtedly the h istorian here l ists the kings of Idumaea before David conquered that people' and set up gov­ ernors in the land (2 Sam. ch. 8 v. 14) .

Thus from the foregoing it is clear beyond a shadow of doubt that the Penta­ teuch was not written by Moses, but by someone who lived many generations af-

'" See Supplementary Note 1 0

Chapter 8 475

ter Moses. But let us now turn our attention , if you please, to the books which Moses did write and which are cited in the Pentateuch; for we shall see from them that they were different from the Pentateuch. In the first place, then, Exodus ch. 17 v. 14 tells us that Moses, by God's command, wrote an account of the war against Amalek. In that chapter we are not told what book this was, but in Num­ bers ch. 2 1 v. 1 2 reference is made to a certa in book called the 'Book of the Wars of God,' wh ich undoubtedly included the history of this war against Amalek to­ gether with all the stages of their journeyings (which in Numbers ch. 33 v. 2 the author of the Penteteuch testifies were also written by Moses). Aga in, Exodus ch. 24 v. 4, 7 gives evidence of another book called the 'Book of the Covenant," which Moses read before the Israelites when they first entered into a covenant with God. Now this book or document contained very l ittle, namely, the laws or commandments of God wh ich are set out in Exodus from chapter 20 v. 22 to chap­ ter 24, and this no one will deny who reads the aforesa id chapter impartially and with sound judgment. There we read that as soon as Moses realised the feel ings of the people with regard to a covenant with God, he immediately wrote down God's utterances and laws, and in the morning, when certa in ceremonies had been performed, he read out the terms of the covenant to the whole congrega­ tion. When the terms had been read out and no doubt understood by the entire assembly, the people bound themselves with full consent. It therefore follows both from the brief time taken in writing down the book and from the manner of the ratifying of the covenant, that th is book con tained nothing more than the few items I have mentioned.

Lastly, it is clear that in the fortieth year from the departure out of Egypt Moses expla ined all the laws that he made (see Deut. ch. I v. 5 ) and bound the people anew to observe them (Deut. ch. 29 v. 14) , and finally wrote a book containing these laws as explained and this new covenant (see Deut. ch. 31 v. 9). This book was called the Book of the Law of God, to which Joshua later added an account of the covenant by which the people of his time bound themselves once more, making a covenant with God for the third time (see Josh. ch. 24 v. 2 5 , 26). Now since there is no extant book conta ining this covenant of Moses together with the covenant ofJoshua, we have to grant that this book has perished- or else we must share in the madness of the Chaldaean Paraphrast Jonathan, 1 distorting the words of Scripture just as we please. Confronted by this problem, this commentator pre­ ferred to corrupt Scripture rather than admit his ignorance. The passage in the book of Joshua (ch. 24 v. 26) which runs, "And Joshua wrote these words in the book of the Law of God; he translates in Chaldaic, "And Joshua wrote these words and kept them together with the book of the Law of God." What can you do with those who see nothing but what they please? What else is this, I ask, but to reject Scripture itself and fashion a new Scripture of one's own devising?

• The Hebrew word 'sepher' often means letter or wntlng. I [The Chaldaean Paraphrast Jonathan was Jonathan ben Uzzlel, fust century A.D., who produced an

Aramaic (Chaldaean) translation or paraphrase of the Bible, called a Targum. Malmonides held him ID high regard.]

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We may therefore conclude that the book of the Law of God which Moses wrote was not the Pentateuch, but a quite different book which the author of the Pentateuch inserted in proper order in his own work; and this conclusion follows on the clearest evidence not only from what has just been said but also from what I am about to state. In the passage of Deuteronomy just quoted which tells us that Moses wrote the book of the Law, the h istorian adds that Moses gave it into the hands of the priests, and that he further ordered them to read it out to the entire people at an appointed time. Th is indicates that the book in question was much shorter than the Pentateuch, seeing that it could be read through at a single as­ sembly so as to be understood by all. Nor must we here omit to mention that, of all the books that Moses wrote, it was only this one of the second covenant and the Canticle2 (wh ich he later added so that all the people might learn it) that he commanded to be religiously guarded and preserved. For by the first covenant he had bound only those who were present, whereas by the second covenan t he also bound those who should come after them (Deut. ch. 29 v. 14, 1 5 ) . He therefore commanded that this book of the second covenant be religiously preserved for fu­ ture generations, and with it, as we have said, the Canticle, wh ich particularly concerns fu lure generations. Since, then, there is no evidence that Moses wrote any other books but these, and he gave no instructions for any other book but this book of the Law together with the Canticle to be preserved religiously for poster­ ity, and finally, since there are many passages in the Pentateuch that could not have been written by Moses, it follows that there are no grounds for holding Moses to be the author of the Pen tateuch, and that such an opin ion is quite contrary to reason .

Now at th is point someone will perhaps ask whether, in addition to the above, Moses did not write down laws when they were first revealed to him; that is, whether over the space of forty years he did not write down any of the laws which he made except those few which I have stated were contained in the book of the first covenant. To this I reply that, although I would grant it to be a reasonable as­ sumption that Moses wrote down the laws at the time and place where he hap­ pened to promulgate them, I deny that it is therefore legitimate for us to affirm this. We have previously shown that in matters l ike this we must assert nothing but what is established from Scripture itself, or what logically proceeds solely from the fundamental principles of Scripture. It is not enough that such an assertion should appear reasonable. Moreover, neither does reason itself compel us to th is conclusion. It is possible that the elders communicated Moses' decrees to the people in writing, and that later the historian gathered these together and inserted them in due order in the life of Moses.

So much for the five books of Moses; it is now time for us to examine the other books. The book of Joshua can l ikewise be shown, by similar arguments, not to be by the hand of Joshua; for it is someone else who testifies of Joshua that his fame was spread throughout the world (ch. 6 v. 27), that he omitted nothing of what

2 [Spmoza is refernng to Moses' song ID Deuteronomy 3 3 ]

Chapter 8 477

Moses had commanded h im (ch. 8 last verse and ch. I I v. 1 5 ) , that he grew old and summoned the entire people to an assembly, and that finally he breathed h is last. Then again, some events are narrated that happened after Joshua's death, as that after his death the Israelites continued to worship God as long as men who had known him were still alive. And in chapter 16 v. l O we read that Ephraim and Manasseh 'did not drive out the Canaanites that dwelt in Gezer, but (he adds) the Canaanites have dwelt among the Ephraimites unto this day, and served as tribu­ taries.' This is the same as the narrative in Judges, chapter I , and the turn of ph rase 'even unto this day' indicates that the writer is speaking of ancient times. Similar to th is is the text of chapter 1 5 , last verse, concern ing the sons of Judah, and the history of Caleb from verse 1 3 of the same chapter. Aga in, the events narrated in chapter 22 from verse 10 on, when the two tribes and a half built an altar beyond Jordan, seem to have taken place after the death of Joshua; for throughout the story there is no mention of Joshua, and it is the people alone who hold council as to waging war, send delegates and await the reply they bring, which they finally approve. Lastly, the passage in chapter 10 v. 14 clearly proves that this book was written many generations after Joshua, for it testifies, "There was no day l ike that, either before it or after it, that the Lord hearkened unto the voice of a man; etc. Therefore if Joshua wrote any book at all, it must be that which is quoted in ch. 10 v. 1 3 of this same h istory.

As for the book of Judges, I imagine that nobody of sound judgment can be­ lieve that it was written by the judges themselves, for the summary of the whole book in chapter 2 clearly shows that the entire book is the work of a single histo­ rian. Then again, since the writer often remarks that in those times there was no king in Israel, there can be no doubt that it was written after the institution of monarchy.

We need spend l ittle time in considering the books of Samuel , inasmuch as the history is continued long after h is lifetime. However, I should l ike it to be noted that th is book, too, was written many generations after Samuel . In book I , chapter 9 v. 9 the historian remarks i n parenthesis, "Beforetimes i n Israel , when a man went to inquire of God, thus he spoke, 'Come, let us go to a seer'; for he that is now called a prophet was beforetime called a seer."

Lastly, the books of Kings, as is made clear by their contents, are taken from the books of the Acts of Solomon (see I Kings ch. 1 1 v. 4 1 ) , from the chronicles of the kings of Judah (I Kings ch. 14 v. 19 , 29), and from the chronicles of the kings of Israel.

We may therefore conclude that all the books we have so far considered are the works of other hands, and that their contents are narrated as ancient history.

If we now turn our attention to the interconnection and the main theme of all these books, we shall easily see that they are all the work of a Single historian who set out to write the antiquities of the Jews from their first beginnings until the first destruction of the city.3 These books are so connected with one another that th is

� [ThIS is Jerusalem J

478 Theological-Political Treatise

alone is sufficient to enable us to decide that they form the narrative of a single historian . As soon as he reaches the end of the narrative of the l ife of Moses, the historian passes on to the l ife of Joshua with these words: "Now after the death of Moses, the servant of the Lord, it came to pass that the Lord spake unto Joshua . . . ;' and when this narrative ends with the death of Joshua, he begins the history of the Judges with exactly the same transitional words, "Now after the death of Joshua it came to pass that the ch ildren of Israel asked the Lord . . . ." To this book he joins the story of Ruth as an appendix, with these words: "Now it came to pass in the days when the Judges ruled that there was a famine in the land." Then there is the same sort of transition between Ruth and the first Book of Samuel , at the end of which he proceeds with his customary transitional phrase to the second book. Then , without completing the h istory of David , he moves on to the first Book of Kings, and, continuing the history of David, he goes on with the same transition to the second Book of Kings.

Again, the construction and order of the narratives also shows that there was only one historian, with a fixed aim in view. He begins by narrating the first ori­ gins of the Hebrew nation , and then con tinues in an orderly way to relate on what occasions and at what times Moses made his laws and his numerous prophecies. He then goes on to tell how the Israelites invaded the promised land in accor­ dance with Moses' prophecies (see Deut. ch. 7), and how, after possessing the land, they forsook their laws (Deut. ch. 3 1 v. 16) and thereafter met with many misfortunes (same ch. v. 1 7) . Then he relates how the people decided to choose kings (Deut. ch. 17 v. 14) , who l ikewise prospered or failed according to the rev­ erence they paid to the laws, and, finally, how their kingdom was destroyed as Moses had foretold. With regard to other matters that are not relevant to the ob­ servance of the Law, our historian either keeps silent or refers the reader to other historians. Thus all these books have but a single theme, to set forth the words and commandments of Moses and to demonstrate their truth by the course of history.

When we consider in un ison these three points, namely, the unity of theme of all these books, their in terconnections, and the fact that they were written by a later hand many generations after the events , we may conclude, as I have just stated, that they were all the work of a single historian. The identity of this histo­ rian is not susceptible to certa in proof, but I believe it was Ezra , a conjecture sup­ ported by a number of weighty reasons.

The historian (whom we already know to be a single individual) continues h is h istory up to the l iberation of Jehoiachin, adding that he sat at the king's table all the days of his life (that is, either Jehoiach in's life or the l ife of the son of Neb­ uchadnezzar, for the meaning is by no means clear). Hence it follows that the his­ torian could not have been anyone before Ezra. Now Scripture testifies of Ezra alone of all men of his time (Ezra ch. 7 v. 1 0) that he devoted himself to seek the Law of God and to set it forth, and that he was a scribe learned in the Law of Moses (Ezra ch. 7 v. 6). Therefore I cannot imagine anyone but Ezra as the writer of these books.

Again, on examining th is testimony concerning Ezra, we note that he devoted himself not only to seek the Law of God but also to set it forth , and in Nehemiah

Chapter 8 479

ch. 8 v. 8 we are also told that "they read the book of the Law distinctly, and caused them to understand, and they understood the Scripture." Now since Deuteronomy contains not only the book of the Law of Moses, or most of it, but also many passages inserted for its fuller explanation, I con jecture that Deuteron­ omy is that book of the Law of God, written, set forth and expla ined by Ezra, which they read at that time. As to the numerous parenthetic insertions in Deuteronomy which serve for fuller explanation, I gave two examples of this in discussing the views of ibn Ezra, and there are many more such passages to be found; for example, chapter 2 v. 1 2 , "The l:Iorites also dwelt in Seir beforetime, but the ch ildren of Esau drove them out and destroyed them from before them, and dwelt in their stead, as Israel did unto the land of his possess ion, which the Lord gave unto him." Here he is explaining verses 3 and 4 of the same chapter, saying that Mount Seir, which had come to the ch ildren of Esau for their pos­ session, was not seized by them uninhabited, but that they invaded it and ex­ pelled and destroyed the Hor ites who formerly dwelt there, just as after Moses' death the Israelites expelled the Canaanites.

Other parenthetic insertions in the words of Moses are verses 6, 7, 8, 9 of chap' ter 1 0; for it is obvious that verse 8, which begins, "At that time the Lord separated the tribe of Levi" must refer back to verse 5, and not to the death of Aaron, which Ezra seems to have inserted at th is point only because Moses, when he recounted the story of the worship of the calf, had said (ch. 9 v. 20), that he had prayed to God on Aaron's behalf. Ezra then goes on to explain tha� at the time of which Moses is here speaking, God had chosen for himself the tribe of Levi, thus giving reason for the election and the exclusion of the Levites from a share in the in­ heritance; and thereafter he continues the thread of the history in the words of Moses. Then there is also the preface to the book, and all those passages where Moses is spoken of in the th ird person . And there were doubtless many other pas­ sages, which we cannot now identifY, which were added or given a different ex­ pression by the historian, so that they might be more easily comprehended by h is contemporaries.

If, I say, we possessed Moses' original book of the Law, I doubt not that we should find considerable differences both in the wording of h is commandments and in the order of the text and in the explanations given. If only the Decalogue of Deuteronomy be compared with the Decalogue of Exodus (where its h istory is expl icitly given) the former is found to differ from the latter on all these points . In the former the fourth commandment not only takes a different form but i s set out at much greater length, and the reasoning on which it is based is qu ite different from that given in the Exodus Decalogue. And finally, the order in which the tenth commandment is here set forth is also qu ite different from that of Exodus.

It is my opinion, as I have already said, that the discrepancies here and else­ where are due to Ezra because he was expla ining the Law of God to the people of h is own time, and therefore th is is the book of the Law of God as presented and set forth by Ezra. And this book, I believe, was the first of all the books which I have attributed to him. This con jecture is supported by the fact that it contains

480 Theological-Political Treatise

the laws of his country-which are the most urgent need of a people-and also that th is book, unl ike all the others, is not joined to the preceding book by a tran- sitional phrase, but begins independently with 'These are the words of Moses _ _ _ _ ' Now when he had completed this task and had instructed the people in the laws, I believe he appl ied himself to composing a complete h istory of the Hebrew na­ tion from the creation of the world to the final destruction of the city, and into this work he inserted the book of Deuteronomy in its appropriate place_ Perhaps he called the first five books by the name of Moses because their principal suI>­ ject is the l ife of Moses, the name deriving from the main theme. For the same reason he called the sixth book the book of Joshua, the seventh the book of Judges, the eighth Ruth , the ninth and perhaps the tenth the books of Samuel , and the eleventh and twelfth the books of Kings. On the question as to whether Ezra put the final touches to th is work and completed it as he intended, see the next chapter.

CHAPTER 9

An enquiry into further matters relating to these same books, namely, whether Ezra gave them a final revision, and whether the marginal notes found in the Hebrew codices were variant readings

In the preceding chapter we discussed the question of the true authorsh ip of the books therein considered. In support of our theory we cons idered some obscure passages which can be clarified only by this theory, a fact which in itself em­ phasises how much our theory contributes to a complete understanding of these books. But apart from the question of au thorship, we have yet to draw attention to some other points of interest in the books themselves, the comprehension of which is denied to people in general by the prevalence of superstition. Of these the most important is th is, that Ezra (whom I shall regard as the author of the aforementioned books until a more likely candidate appears) did not make a fi­ nal revision of the narratives contained in these books and confined himself to making a collection ofthe histories from various writers, sometimes simply copy­ ing them down as they were and leaving them to posterity without proper scrutiny and arrangement.

The reasons (if it was not his untimely death) which prevented him from com­ pleting this work in final detail are beyond my con jecture. But although the an­ cient Hebrew historians are lost to us, the few remnants that we do possess make the fact indisputable. The h istory of Hezekiah (2 Kings ch. 18 from v. 17 on) was copied from Isaiah's account just as it appeared in the chronicles of the kings of Judah, for we have it in its entirety in the book of Isaiah-which was included in the chron icles of the kings of Judah (see 2 Chron. ch . 32 v. 32)- in exactly the

Chapter 9 48 1

same words as in the other narrative, with a few exceptions . ' Hence we are bound to conclude that there existed various versions of this narrative of Isaiah- unless one should prefer to imagine that here, again, there lurk some mysteries. More­ over, the ending of2 Kings is repeated in the last chapter of Jeremiah v. 3 1-34. In addition, we find that 2 Sam. ch. 7 is repeated in I Chron. ch. 1 7; but in a num­ ber of places the words are seen to have undergone such a remarkable change" that it is obvious that the two chapters are taken from two different copies of the story of Nathan. Finally, the genealogy of the kings of Idumaea, in Gen. ch. 36 v. 31 on, is also repeated in the same words in 1 Chron. ch. I , although it is clear that the author of the latter book took h is materials from other historians, and not from the twelve books we have ascribed to Ezra . Therefore there can be no doubt that if the historians themselves were available to us, we should have direct proof of our con tention. But since they are lost to us, our only resource is to examine the histories that we do possess, considering their order and interconnections, the various repetitions and the discrepancies in the reckoning of years, from which we may judge of the rest.

Let us then consider these histories, or at least the most noteworthy; and in the first place the story of Judah and Tamar (Gen. 38), where the historian begins h is narration thus: "And it came to pass at that time that Judah departed from h is brethren . . . ." The time here mentioned must refer not to the passage that im­ mediately precedes it in Genesis but to a quite different !ime' " of which it is the immediate continuation. For from the former time- that is, the time when Joseph was taken away to Egypt- until the time when the patriarch Jacob also set out thither with all his household, we can reckon no more than twenty-two years. Joseph was seventeen years old when he was sold by h is brothers, and he was thirty years old when he was summoned by Pharaoh from prison. If we add to th is the seven years of plenty and the two years of famine, we arrive at a total of twenty­ two years. Now nobody can conceive that in this space of time so many events could have taken place: that Judah begat three children, one after another, from the one wife whom he married at that time, that the eldest of these married Tamar when he was of age, that when he died the second son married her in turn, and also died, that some time after these events Judah unwittingly had intercourse with his own daughter-in-law Tamar, that she bore him twins, of whom one also be­ came a father within the aforesaid period. Thus, since all these events cannot be accommodated within the time specified in Genesis, the reference must be to some immediately preceding time in the narrative of a different book. Therefore Ezra must have simply copied out this story, too, inserting it into the rest of h is work without critical examination .

Now it has to be admitted that not only this chapter but the entire story of

* See Supplementary Note 1 1 .

. . See Supplementary Note 12 .

* * * See Supplementary Note 13 .

482 Theological·Political Treatise

Joseph and Jacob was gathered and copied down from different sources, such are the number of inconsistencies to be found in it. Genesis chapter 47 tells us that Jacob was 1 30 years old when first Joseph brought him to salute Pharaoh. If we subtract the twenty-two years he passed in sorrowing for Joseph's absence, and the seventeen years which was Joseph's age when he was sold, and finally the seven years he served for Rachel, we find that he was old indeed, eighty-four in fact, when he married Leah, while Dinah was scarcely seven years old' when she was violated by Shechem, and Simeon and Levi had scarcely reached the ages of twelve and eleven when they spoiled that entire city and slew all its people with the sword.

There is no need for me here to review the whole of the Pentateuch. If one merely observes that all the contents of these five books, h istories and precepts, are set forth with no distinction or order and with no regard to chronology, and that frequently the same story is repeated, with variations, it will readily be recog­ nised that all these materials were collected indiscriminately and stored together with view to examining them and arranging them more conveniently at some later time. And not only the contents of these five books but the other histories in the remaining seven books right down to the destruction of the city were compiled in the same way. Nobody can fail to see that in chapter 2 of Judges at verse 6 there appears on the scene a new h istorian who had also written of Joshua's deeds, and that h is words are simply set down unchanged. For after our historian has related in the last chapter of Joshua how Joshua died and was buried, and in the first chap­ ter of Judges has promised to continue the history after Joshua's death, what logi­ cal connection - ifhe really intended to pursue the thread of his story- could he have claimed between the preceding verses and what he here begins to relate of Joshua?"

In the same way, too, chapters 17, 18 etc. of I Samuel are taken from another historian, who held that the reason why David began to frequent Saul's court was very different from that given in chapter 16 of this same book. He did not th ink that it was by his servants' advice that Saul summoned David to his presence (as is related in chapter 1 6) , but that, happening to be sent by h is father to his broth­ ers in camp, David first came to Saul's attention through his victory over the Philistine Gol iath, and was deta ined at his court. I suspect that the same applies to chapter 26 of this same book, where the h istorian appears to repeat the narra­ tive of chapter 24, but gives a different version. But I pass over this point, and pro­ ceed to examine the question of chronology.

In I Kings chapter 6 we are told that Solomon built h is temple 480 years after the exodus from Egypt, but the narratives themselves require a much greater num­ ber of years.

ill See Supplementary Note 14.

* * See Supplementary Note 15

Moses governed the people in the desert According to josephus and other writers, joshua, who l ived to

the age of 1 1 0, led the people for no more than Cushan Rishathaim held the people in subjection Othniel, son of Kenaz, was judge' Eglon, king of Moab, held rule over the people Ehud and Shamgar were judges jabin, king of Canaan , again held the people in subjection Thereafter the people were at peace Then they were in subjection to Midian In the time of Gideon they were free They were under the rule of Abimelech Tola, son of Pua, was judge jair was judge The people were again in subjection to the Philistines and the

Ammonites jephtha was judge Ibzan the Bethlehemite was j udge Elon the Zebulunite was judge Abdon the Pirathonile was judge The people were again in subjection to the Phil istines Samson was judge" Eli was judge The people were again in subjection to the Philistines until they were

freed by Samuel David reigned Solomon reigned before building the temple

Total

Chapter 9

Years 40

26 8

40 1 8 80 20 40

7 40

3 2 3 22

1 8 6 7

1 0 8

40 20 40

20 40 4

580

To th is total must be added the period after the death of joshua when the He­ brew state flourished before it was subjugated by Cushan Rishathaim, a period which I believe covered a considerable number of years. For I cannot be per­ suaded that immediately after the death of joshua all those who witnessed his mar­ velous doings perished all at once, and that their successors rejected their laws at a Single stroke and plunged from the heights of virtue into the depths of wicked­ ness and indolence, or that Cushan Rishathaim subjugated them at one blow. Since each of these circumstances requires about a generation, there can be no doubt that the book ofjudges, chapter 2 v. 7 ,9 , 1 0 covers the h istory of many years which it passes over in silence.

Furthermore, we must add the years when Samuel was judge, the number of which is again not given in Scripture; and then there are the years of Saul's reign,

ill See Supplementary Note 16 .

* * See Supplementary Note 17.

483

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which I have omitted in the above calculation because the history of Saul does not make clear the length of his reign . There is indeed the statement in I Samuel chapter 1 3 v. I that he reigned two years, but the text there is mutilated, and the narrative itself also postulates a longer period. That the text is mutilated cannot be doubted by anyone who has the slightest acquaintance with the Hebrew lan­ guage, for it begins thus, "Saul was in his _ year when he began to reign, and he reigned for two years over Israel ." Who can fa il to see, I repeat, that the number of years of Saul's age when he began to reign has been omitted? And I do not th ink that anyone can doubt too that the narrative itself requires a greater number for the years of his reign. For chapter 27 v. 7 of the same book tells us that David so­ journed among the Phil istines, to whom he had fled for refuge from Saul, a year and four months. By this calculation the other events of his reign must have oc­ cupied eight months, a conclusion which I imagine no one will accept. josephus, at least, at the end of his sixth book of Antiquities, emends the text thus: "Saul reigned eighteen years during Samuel's lifetime, and two years after his death."

Indeed, this entire narrative in chapter 13 is in complete disagreement with what has gone before. At the end of chapter 7 we are told that the Philistines were so crushed by the Hebrews that they dared not invade their borders during Samuel's l ifetime. Yet in chapter 13 we are told that, in Samuel's lifetime, the Hebrews were invaded by the Ph il istines and reduced to such a state of wretched­ ness and poverty that they were deprived of weapons wherewith to defend them­ selves, and even of the means of making them . I should certa inly be hard put to it if I were to attempt to reconcile all the narratives of the first book of Samuel so that they might present the appearance of having been written and arranged by a single historian. But I return to my theme. The years of Saul's reign , then, should be added to our previous calculation. And finally, I have not taken into account the years of anarchy of the Hebrews, since their number is not clear from Scrip­ ture_ I cannot be sure, I say, of the time taken up by those events which are recorded from chapter 17 to the end of the book of judges.

Thus it clearly follows that neither can a true system of chronology be estab­ l ished from the narratives nor are the narratives cons istent with one another in this matter, but differ widely. Therefore it must be admitted that these narratives were compiled from different sources, without any proper arrangement or scrutiny. And there seems to have been just as great a chronological discrepancy between the books of the chronicles of the kings of Judah and those of the kings of Israel. The chronicles of the kings of Israel recorded that jehoram, the son of Ahab, began his reign in the second year of the reign of jehoram, the son of je­ hoshaphat (2 Kings ch. I v. 1 7) ; but in the chronicles of the kings of judah we are told that jehoram, the son of jehoshaphat, began his reign in the fifth year of the reign of jehoram, the son ofAhab (2 Kings ch. 8 v. 1 6) .

Furthermore, anyone who cares to compare the narratives of the book of Chron icles with the narratives of the books of Kings will find many similar dis­ crepancies, which I need not recount here, and far less need I consider the com­ mentaries wherein writers seek to reconcile these narratives. The Rabbis run quite wild, and such commentators as I have read indulge in dreams, fantasies, and in

Chapter 9 485

the end corrupt the language altogether. For example, in the second book of Chron icles where we read that "Forty and two years old was Ahaziah when he be­ gan to reign; some of them pretend that these years are reckoned from the reign of Omri, not from the birth of Ahaziah. If they could prove this to be the real meaning of the author of the book of Chronicles, I should not hesitate to declare that he did not know how to speak. They indulge in many other fancies of th is sort; and if these were true, I should declare outright that the ancient Hebrews knew neither their own language nor how a narrative should be arranged, I should acknowledge no method or rule for the in terpretation of Scripture, and there would be no restriction whatsoever on the imagination.

If anyone thinks that my criticism here is of too sweeping a nature and lacking sufficient foundation, I would ask him to undertake to show us in these narratives a definite plan such as might legitimately be imitated by historians in their chron­ icles. In his attempts to interpret the narratives and to harmonise them, let him adhere with absolute strictness ' to the actual diction and to the manner of expo­ sition , arrangement and organisation of the texts, and then provide such an explanation as may furnish us with a model to imitate in our own writing. If he succeeds, I shall at once admit defeat, and he will be my mighty Apollo. For I con­ fess that all my efforts over a long period have resulted in no such discovery. In­ deed, I may add that I write noth ing here that is not the fruit oflengthy reflection; and although I have been educated from boyhood in the accepted beliefs con­ cerning Scripture, I have felt bound in the end to embrace the views I here express. But there is no point in taking up the reader's time on this subject, pre­ senting him with a hopeless task: it has been necessary to confront this issue in or­ der to make my position clearer, and so I now pass on to the rema ining topics which I undertook to discuss, concerning the fate that befell these books.

In addition to our previous remarks, we have to observe that these books were not so preserved by posterity as not to suffer the intrusion of some errors. The scribes of old have noted several doubtful readings and also a number of mutilated passages, but not all that there are. I shall not at this point discuss the question as to whether the errors are of such a kind as to cause serious difficulty to the reader. In my opinion, however, they are of minor importance, at any rate to those who have an enl ightened approach to Scripture. This much I can say with certa inty, that in the matter of moral doctrine I have never observed a fault of variant read­ ing that could give rise to obscurity or doubt in such teaching. But there are many who deny the possibility of any fault having occurred even in the other texts; they maintain that God by some singular act of providence has preserved all the Sa­ cred Books uncorrupted. They say that the variant readings signal mysteries most profound; they contend that the same is true of the twenty-eight cases of asterisks in mid-paragraph, and that great secrets lurk even in the markings above the let­ ters. I do not know whether these views proceed from folly and a feeble-minded devou !ness or from arrogance and malice, to the end that they alone may be cred-

'" See Supplementary Note 1 8

486 Theological-Political Treatise

ited with possessing the secrets of God. This much I do know, that I have found in their writings nothing that smacks of divine secrets, but mere childishness. I have also read, and am acquainted with , a number of Cabbal istic , triflers whose madness passes the bounds of my understanding.

That some errors have crept in, as we have said, will not be denied, I believe, by anyone of sound judgment who reads the passages concerning Saul (which I have already quoted from I Sam. ch. 1 3 v. I) and also 2 Sam_ ch. 6 v. 2, "And David arose and went with all the people that were with him from Judah to bring up from there the ark of God." Nobody can fail to see that the place to which they went to bring up from there the ark of God, namely, Kirjath Jeharim,' has been omitted. Nor aga in can we deny that 2 Sam. ch. 1 3 v. 37 has been corrupted and mutilated: "And Absalom fled and went to Talmai, the son of Ammihud, king of Geshur, and he mourned for his son every day, and Absalom fled and went to Geshur, and was there three years ... • • There are other instances of this kind which I know I have previously noted, but cannot at present recalL

That the marginal notes which are found in many places in the Hebrew Codices were doubtful readings, nobody again can doubt who notices that most of these have originated from the remarkable similarity between Hebrew letters; the similarity between , kaf. and � bet, ' yad and , vav, , dalet and , resh and so on. For example, in 2 Sam. ch. 5 v. 24, we have 1lI!l1ll� ' in the (time) in which thou hearest; and in the margin 1lI!l1ll' 'when thou hearest.' And in Judges ch. 21 v. 22 'when their fathers or brothers come to us �n' in multitude' (that is, 'often'), in the margin is written �", 'to complain. '

In the same way, many other variant readings have also arisen from the use of letters called mutes, which for the most part are not pronounced, and are used in­ discriminately one in place of another. For example, in Leviticus chapter 2 5 verse 30 we have 'and the house will be established which is in the city without a wall '­ �!l'" K' �K, but in the margin is written �1.M ,' 'IIIK, 'which is in the walled city.'

Although this is self-evident, I should l ike to reply to the arguments of certain Pharisees whereby they try to convince us that the marginal notes were inserted by the writers of the Sacred Books themselves with the purpose of signifYing some mystery. The first of these arguments, to which I attach l ittle weight, derives from the practice of reading the Scriptures aloud. If, they say, these notes are added be­ cause of a difference of reading on which later generations could not decide, why has the custom prevailed that the marginal readings should everywhere be given preference? Why, they ask, has the preferred reading been written in the margin? They could on the contrary have written the text itself as they wished it to be read, and they should not have relegated to the margin the meaning and reading of which they most approved.

I [Spinoza alludes here to the JewISh mystical tradition, commonly known as Qabbalah. One of Spmoza's own teachers, Menasseh ben Israel, was a keen Qabbahst. Indeed, Qabbalah was widely dlssemmated among SpanISh JeWISh scholars after the ExpulSion.]

See Supplemental}' Note 19

See Supplementary Note 20 .

Chapter 9 487

The second argument, which has some plausibil ity, derives from the nature of the case, namely, that errors find their way into a text by chance, not by design ; and that which is the effect of chance occurs at random. Now in the Pentateuch the word mYl 'girl ', is always, with one exception, incorrectly written without the n he, contrary to grammatical rule, whereas in the margin it is correctly written according to the universal grammatical rule. Could th is, too, have come about through a scribe's copying error? How could i t have happened that the pen always slipped up when this word occurred? Then again, they could easily have suppl ied what was missing and made the correction with good conscience, according to the rules of grammar. Therefore, since these readings are not due to chance and such obvious fuults have rema ined uncorrected, the argument runs that they were the deliberate work of the original writers, so as to signify something.

However, these arguments are easily answered. The argument from the devel­ opment of their usage in reading aloud the Scriptures carries no weight with me. Superstition may have played some part, and perhaps the custom developed be­ cause they considered both versions equally good or feasible, and so decided that the one should be wri tten and the other read so that neither should be rejected. That is to say, in so importan t a matter they feared to make a final decision lest they should mistakenly prefer the false to the true. So they resolved to show no preference for the one above the other, as must certa inly have been the case if they had ordered only the one to be written and read, especially so when the mar­ ginal notes are not written in the Sacred Books. Or perhaps this came about through their deciding that certain th ings, although correctly written down, should nevertheless be read in the way indicated by a marginal note. Thus came the general rule that the Bible should be read according to the marginal notes.

I shall now discuss the motive that induced the scribes to mark certain words to be read expressly from the margin. For not all marginal notes are doubtful read­ ings; they also occur in the case of expressions that had passed out of common us­ age, namely, obsolete words, and terms that the approved manners of the time did not permit to be read aloud in a public assembly. Writers of old, in their simple way, called things plainly by their names with no courtly circumlocution. Later on, when vice and intemperance were rife, words which in the mouths of the an­ cien ts were free from obscenity began to be regarded as obscene. There was no need to alter Scripture on this account, but in concession to the weak-minded­ ness of the common people they introduced the custom in public readings of suD­ stituting more acceptable words for sexual intercourse and excrement, as are marked in the marginal notes.

Finally, whatever the reason for the development of the practice of reading and interpreting Scripture according to the marginal version, it was certainly not that a true interpretation must thus result. For apart from the fact that the Rabbis them­ selves in the Talmud are often at variance with the Massoretes,2 and possessed

2 [Massoretes. A name given to the succesSIOn of scholars who labored from about the SiXth centul}' to the tenth century to produce an authontatlve versIOn of the Hebrew Bible. They introduced vowel signs J

488 Theological·Political Treatise

other readings which they regarded as correct-as I shall show in due course­ there are also some marginal notes which seem less in accord with Hebrew l in­ guistic usage. For example, in 2 Samuel ch. 14 v. 22 we read "in that the king hath fulfilled the request ofh is servant: a quite regular construction, and in agreement with that of verse 1 5 of the same chapter. But the margin has 1"l:1Y 'of thy servant; which does not agree with the person of the verb. So, too, in the last verse of chap­ ter 16 of the same book, we read 'as when one enquires (?_) of the word of God ; while in the margin the word 1II'K (someone) is added as the subject of the verb. This appears to have been done in error, for it is the common practice of the He-­ brew language to express the impersonal of a verb by the third person singular ac­ tive, as grammarians well know. And there are several marginal notes of th is kind which cannot be given preference over the written version.

As for the second argument of the Pharisees, th is is also easily met by my ear­ l ier statement, namely, that besides doubtful readings the scribes also marked obsolete words. For there is no doubt that in the Hebrew language, as in other lan­ guages, many words were rendered obsolete and antiquated by later usage; and these were found in the B ible by the latest generation of scribes, who, as we have said, marked them all as having to be read in public according to contemporary usage. It is for this reason that the word "lYl na' ar is always found marked, because in antiquity i t was of common gender, and meant the same as the Latin word ';u­ venis' (a young person). So, too, the capital city of the Hebrews used to be called in ancient times Jerusalem, not Jerusalaim. I take a similar view regarding the pro­ noun K"I"1 meaning 'he' or 'she', that is, that the later scribes changed the 1 vav into , yad (a frequent change in Hebrew) when they intended to signify the feminine gender, whereas the ancients used to distingu ish the feminine from the mascu­ l ine only by a change of vowel. So, too, the irregular forms of certa in verbs in ear­ l ier times differed from those oflater times. Finally, the ancient writers made use of the paragogic3 letters "nl?lK� with an elegance pecul iar to their time. All this I could illustrate with many more examples, were I not afra id of wearying the reader.

In am asked what are my grounds for classifying words as obsolete, I reply that I do so because I often find them in the most ancient writers- that is, the Bible­ and yet later writers ceased to use them; and in the case of other languages th is is the only j ustification for classifying words as obsolete, even though they are also dead languages. But perhaps I shall be further pressed with the question why, since I have maintained that most of these marginal notes are doubtful readings, there are never more than two readings of a single passage. Why are there not sometimes three or more? Then again, some passages in Scripture, corrected in a marginal note, are so obviously contrary to grammar that we cannot believe that the scribes could have had any hesitation in deciding which was correct.

But here again there is no difficulty in answering. In reply to the first point, I say that there were in fact more readings than we now find marked in the codices. The

� [This IS a techmcal grammatical term deClvmg from Greek grammar It IS the addition of a letter or syllable to the end of a word, especially to give emphasIS or to modify the meaning.]

Chapter 9 489

Talmud notes several that were passed over by the Massoretes, differing so markedly from their version in many passages that the superstitious editor of the Bomberg Bible' was finally forced to admit in his preface that he could not reconcile them. "Here we can make no reply," he said, "except what we have stated above, namely, that the Talmudic practice is in contradiction with the Massoretes." So we do not have sufficient grounds for maintaining that there never were more than two read­ ings of a s ingle passage. Nevertheless, I do readily grant- indeed, I positively be­ l ieve- that no more than two readings of a single passage have ever been found, and this for two reasons. First, what we have shown to be the cause of the differ­ ence in these readings can admit of no more than two readings. We have shown that the chief source of ambiguity was the similarity of certa in letters, and there­ fore this ambiguity nearly always resolved itself into the question as to which oftwo letters should be accepted, � bet or , kaf, ' yad or , vav, , dalet or , resh and so on. These letters are of frequent occurrence, and thus it could often come about that either letter yielded a reasonable meaning. Again, it might be a question of whether a syllable was long or short, its quantity depending on the letters called mutes. There is the further point that not all marginal notes are doubtful readings: we have mentioned that many were inserted for the sake of decency, and others to explain obsolete and antiquated words. The second reason that convinces me that not more than two readings of a single passage are found is this, that I believe that the scribes found very few original manuscripts, perhaps not more than two or three. In the Treatise of the Scribes,5 C"11!'10 chapter 6, there is mention of only three, which they allege were made by Ezra himself. Be that as it may, if they possessed three manuscripts we can naturally suppose that two would always be in agreement in any one passage. Indeed, it would have been quite extraordinary if in the case of three manuscripts each gave a different reading of one and the same text.

How it came about that after the time of Ezra there existed so few manuscripts will surprise no one who has read either the first book of the Maccabees, chapter I , or Josephus' Antiquities, Book 12 , chapter 5. Indeed, it seems miraculous that they could have saved these few after such a fierce and lengthy persecution. No­ body, I imagine, can doubt this if he has read the history of these times with any attention. Thus we can see why nowhere do we find more than two doubtful read­ ings. Therefore this cannot possibly lead to the conclusion that the marked passages in the Bible were deliberately written incorrectly so as to signify some mysteries.

As to the second argumen� that certa in passages are so incorrectly written that there could be no shadow of doubt that they violated the grammatical rules of all times, and that therefore they should have been unhesitatingly corrected and not merely accompanied by a marginal note, I attach l i ttle weight to this. I am not bound to know what rel igious scruple induced the scribes to refrain from so do­ ing. Perhaps they were prompted by a sincere wish to transmit the Bible to pos-

4 [The Bomberg Bible was printed by D. Bomberg (a Chnstlan) at Vemce, 1 524-1525, edited by Ja­ cob ben HaYYlm 1

5 [ThIS is a treatise In the Babyloman Talmud.]

490 Theological-Political Treatise

terity in the exact condition in which they had found it in the few original man­ uscripts , while noting in the margin the discrepancies in the manuscripts, not as doubtful readings, but as variant readings. The only reason for my calling them doubtful readings is that in fuct I find them nearly all to be of such a kind that I cannot determine which should be preferred to the other.

Finally, apart from these doubtful readings, the scribes have noted a number of cases of mu tilated texts by leaving a space in mid-paragraph. The Massoretes have counted them, enumerating twenty-eight cases where a space is left in mid­ paragraph. Whether they believe that some mystery also lurks in this number I do not know, but the Pharisees rel igiously preserve a fixed area of empty space_ To take one example, in Genesis chapter 4 v. 8 we read, "And Cain said to his brother . . . and it came to pass while they were in the field that Cain . . . ." A space is left where we might have expected to learn what Cain sa id to his brother. There are twenty-eight such spaces left by the scribes, apart from passages we have already noted. Yet many of these passages would not be recognised as mutilated, were it not for the space. But I have said enough on this subject.

CHAPTER l O

An examination of the remaining books of the Old Testament by the same method as was used with the previous books

I now pass on to the rema ining books of the Old Testament. Of the two books of Chronicles I have nothing particular or important to remark, except that they were written some considerable time after Ezra, and perhaps after the restoration of the temple by Judas Maccabee. · For in chapter 9 of the first book the historian tells us 'what famil ies first of all (that is, in the time of Ezra) dwelt in Jerusalem; and then in verse 17 he gives the names of the porters, two of whom are also men­ tioned in Nehemiah ch_ I I v. 1 9. This shows that these books were written some considerable time after the rebuilding of the city. As to the authorsh ip of these books, their authority, usefulness and doctrine, I can say nothing. Indeed, I find it quite astonishing that they were accepted among the Sacred Books by those who excluded from the canon the book of Wisdom, the book of Tobit, and other books that are called apocryphal. But it is not my purpose to disparage the authority of the Chronicles; since they have been given universal acceptance, I also leave them, for what they are.

The Psalms were also gathered together and divided into five books in the time of the second temple; for on the evidence of Philo Judaeus 1 Psalm 88 was pub-

• See Supplementary Note 2 1 .

I [The Philo Judaeus mentioned here by Spmoza IS not the famous JeWIsh phliosopher and blbhcal exegete of Alexandna, Egypt (fmit century A D ) Later ID this chapter (page 494) Spmoza refers to

ChapteT 10 49 1

l ished while king Jehoiachin was still a prisoner in Babylon, and Psalm 89 when Jehoiach in obtained his freedom. I do not believe that Ph ilo would ever have made th is statement unless either it was the accepted belief of h is time or he had learned it from trustworthy sources.

The Proverbs of Solomon, I believe, were also collected at that time, or at least in the time of king Josiah, for in chapter 25 v. I we read, "These are also the Proverbs of Solomon, which the men of Hezekiah, king of Judah, copied out." At this point I cannot refrain from remarking on the audacity of the Rabbis who wanted this book, and also Ecclesiastes, to be excluded from the canon and to be kept with the others that are now missing. Th is they would actually have done had they not found some passages where the Law of Moses is commended. It is in­ deed a matter of deep regret that decisions ofh igh and sacred import rested with these men. However, I am obliged to them for allowing these books, too, to come down to us, though I cannot help doubting their good faith in transmitting them, a matter which I shall not here subject to keen scrutiny.

I pass on, then, to the books of the Prophels. On turning my attention to these, I find that the prophecies they contain were gathered from other books, and were not always set down in these books in the same order in which they were spoken or written by the prophels themselves; nor again are they all contained there, but only those that the compilers could find in various sources. Hence these books are only fragmentary writings of the prophels. For Isa iah began to prophesy in the reign of Uzziah, as the writer himself testifies in the first verse. Now Isaiah not only prophesied at that time but also wrote a full account of Uzziah's acls (see 2 Chron. ch. 26 v. 22), a book that is now lost. We have shown that what we do pos­ sess is taken from the chronicles of the kings of Judah and Israel . Furthermore, the Rabbis maintain that Isaiah also prophesied in the reign of Manasseh, by whom he was finally put to death; and although this may be a myth, it does ap­ pear that they believed that not all of Isaiah's prophecies are extant.

The prophecies ofJeremiah, which are narrated in the manner of history, were selected and compiled from various chronicles. For not only are they gathered to­ gether in a confused mass with no regard to chronological order bu� furthermore, there are different versions of the same story. In chapter 2 1 the writer gives as the reason for Jeremiah's arrest that, on being consul ted by Zedekiah, he prophesied the destruction of the city; then, interrupting h is narrative, in chapter 22 he passes on to Jeremiah's outcry against Jehoiachin, who reigned before Zedekiah, pre­ dicting the king's captivity. Then in chapter 25 the writer describes the prophet's revelations prior to these even Is, in the fourth year ofJehoiach in's reign. Then he moves on to the evenls of the /irst year of this king's reign , continuing to pile up prophecies with no regard of chronological order, until in chapter 38 he resumes

a Philo Judaeus again and mentions hiS work, The Book of Times. The philosopher Philo of A1exan­ dria wrote no such book. According to the modem Hebrew transJator of the TIP, Chayyim Wirszub­ ski, Spinoza IS actually referring to a book attnbuted to "Philo Judaeus" by the Italian scholar Johannes Anmus ofVlterbo. Most probably, suggests Wuszubskl, Spmoza found this reference ID the Renais­ sance Italian JeWish histOrIan Azariah de Rossi's Me'or 'Einaiyyim, Book 3, chapter 32 . J

492 Theological-Political Treatise

what he began to relate in chapter 2 1 , as if the intervening fifteen chapters were a parenthesis. For the connecting words at the beginning of chapter 38 relate to verses 8, 9 and 1 0 of chapter 2 1 . He then describes Jeremiah's final arrest in very different terms, and assigns a reason for h is long stay in prison which is very dif­ ferent from that related in chapter 37. Thus one may clearly see that all these nar­ ratives were taken from different h istorians, and the incoherence can have no other explanation.

The prophecies contained in the remaining chapters of the book, where Jeremiah speaks in the first person , seem to have been copied from a volume that Baruch wrote at Jeremiah's dictation; for, as chapter 36 v . 2 makes clear, th is contained only what was revealed to the prophet from the time of Josiah to the fourth year of Jehoiachin, the point at which this book begins. The narrative from chapter 45 v. 2 to chapter 5 1 v. 59 also seems to have been copied from the same volume.

The book of Ezekiel , too, is only a fragment, as is clearly indicated by the early verses. Who can fau to see that the transitional words with which the book begins relate to things previously said, making a connection between those things and things yet to come? But it is not only the transition, it is the entire structure of the work that presupposes other writings. That the book begins with the thirtieth year shows that the prophet is continuing a narrative, not beginning one; and th is is noted by the writer h imself in a parenthesis in verse 3, "And the word of the Lord came often unto Ezekiel , the son of Buzi, a priest in the land of the Chaldeans . . . : as if to say that the words of Ezekiel which he had thus far writ­ ten related to other revelations that had come to him before his thirtieth year. Then again, Josephus in his Antiquities, Book 10, chapter 7 tells us that Ezekiel foretold that Zedekiah would not see Babylon; but this is not told us in the book of Ezekiel now extant, which on the contrary tells us in chapter 17 that he would be taken to Babylon as captive. '

With regard to Hosea, we cannot say with certainty that he wrote more than is contained in the book of his name. Yet I am surprised that we do not possess more writings of one who, on the testimony of the author, prophesied for eighty-four years. This much we know as a general fact, that the writers of these books did not collect the prophecies of all who prophesied, nor all the prophecies of those prophets whom we do possess. Of the prophets who prophesied in the reign ofManasseh, of whom general mention is made in 2 Chron. ch. 33 v. 10, 1 8, 1 9, we possess no prophecies whatsoever, nor do we possess all the prophecies of our twelve prophets. In the case of Jonah, only the prophecies concerning the Ninevites are available, although he also prophesied to the Israelites, for which see 2 Kings ch. 14 v. 2 5 .

With regard t o the book o f Job, and J ob h imself, there has been considerable controversy among writers .2 Some think that Moses wrote the book, and that the

• See Supplementary Note 22. 2 [The authorship of the Book of lob was debated by the RabbiS In the Talmud (Babylonian Ta1rrrud,

Treatise Hava Batrah, 1 5a) They also discussed the questIon of whether Job was a historical fIgure or only an allegorical type Maimonides favored the latter view (Guide 0{ the Perplexed, 3 22).]

ChapteT 10 493

whole story is nothing but a parable. This is the view of certain Rabbis in the Tal­ mud, and is also favoured by Maimonides in his 'More Nebuchim.' Others have believed that the story is true, of whom some have thought that Job lived in the time of Jacob and married his daughter Dinah. But ibn Ezra, as I have previously said, asserts in his commentary on this book that it was translated into Hebrew from another language. I wish he could have demonstrated this more convinc­ ingly, for we might therefrom conclude that the Gentiles, too, possessed sacred books. I therefore leave the question unresolved, but I would surmise that Job was a Gentile, a man of great steadfastness who experienced first of all prosperity, then calamity, and finally the utmost good fortune; for he is so named among others by Ezekiel chapter 14 v. 14. I believe that the vicissitudes of Job and his stead­ fastness gave occasion for much discussion concerning God's providence, or at least induced the author of this book to compose his dialogue. The contents of the book, and l ikewise its style, seem not to be the work of a man wretchedly ill , lying amid ashes, but of one meditating at ease in a l ibrary. I am also inclined to agree with ibn Ezra that this book is a translation from another language, for its poetic style seems to be characteristic of the Gentiles. The Father of the gods twice summons a council; Momus,l who is here called Satan, criticises God's words with the utmost freedom and so on. But these are mere conjectures, and not firmly founded.

I pass on to the book of Daniel. From chapter 8 on it undoubtedly contains the writings of Daniel himself, but I do not know whence the first seven chapters were derived. Since they were written in Chaldaic except for the first chapter, we may surmise that they were taken from the chronicles of the Chaldeans. If this could be clearly established, it would afford striking evidence to prove that Scripture is sacred only insofar as we understand through it the matters therein signified, and not insofar as we understand merely the words or the language and sentences whereby these matters are conveyed. It would further prove that books that teach and tell of the highest things are equally sacred, in whatever language and by what­ ever nation they were written . This much, at least, we can remark, that these chap­ ters were written in Chaldaic, and are nevertheless as sacred as the rest of the Bible.

To this book of Daniel the first book of Ezra is so linked that it is easily recog­ nised to be the work of the same author, who continues the history of the Jews from their first captivity on. And I have no doubt that the book of Esther is l inked with this book, for the connective words with which it begins can refer to no other book. I t cannot be believed that this is the same book as that which Mordecai wrote, for in chapter 9 v. 20, 2 1 , 22 somebody else tells of Mordecai that he wrote letters, giv­ ing their contents; and again in verse 3 1 of the same chapter he says that Queen Esther established by edict the arrangements pertaining to the feast of Lots (Purim), and that this was written in the book- that is, as the Hebrew idiom indicates, in a

� [ In anCient Greek lIterature and mythology Momus was a fault-findmg personification (HeslOd, Theogony, 2 14) Spmoza's identification of Morrrus With the blbhcal Satan suggests that the Bible, too, is a literary document analogous to Greek myths and that we should regard and study the for­ mer as we do the latter 1

494 Theological-Political Treatise

book well known at the time of writing. This book has perished along with the oth­ ers, as ibn Ezra admits and must be universally admitted. Finally, for the rest of the acts of Mordecai the historian refers us to the chronicles of the kings of Persia_ Therefore there can be no doubt that this book was also written by the same histo­ rian who related the history of Daniel and Ezra; and so, too, was the book of Ne­ hemiah,' for it is called the second book of Ezra. We can affirm, then, that these four books-the books of Daniel, Ezra, Esther and Nehemiah-were written by one and the same historian. As to the identity of the writer, I cannot even hazard a guess. But to help us to understand from what sources the h istorian, whoever he was, may have acquired his knowledge of these histories, perhaps simply transcrib­ ing the greatest part of them, it should be observed that the governors or rulers of the jews in the time ofthe second temple, l ike the kings in the time of the first tem­ ple, kept a succession of scribes or chroniclers who wrote their annals or chroni­ cles. For the chronicles or annals of the kings are quoted in numerous places in the books of Kings, while those of the rulers and priests of the second temple are first quoted in Nehemiah chapter 12 v. 23 , and then again in I Maccabees chapter 16 v . 24. This i s undoubtedly the book (see Esther ch _ 9 v _ 3 1 ) of which we have just spoken, containing the decree of Esther and the acts of Mordecai, a book which we said, with ibn Ezra, is no longer extant. From this book, then, were derived or copied all the contents of the four books in question, for no other book is quoted by their author, nor do we know of any other book of acknowledged authority.

That these books were not written by Ezra or Nehemiah is obvious from Ne­ hemiah chapter 1 2 v. 10 , I I , where the genealogy of the high priests is traced from jeshua to jaddua, the sixth high priest, a man who met Alexander the Great at a time when the Persian Empire was almost completely subjugated (see josephus' Antiquities, Book I I , chapter 8), or who, according to Philo judaeus in his book of Times, was the sixth and last high priest under the Persians. Indeed, in verse 22 of th is same chapter of Nehemiah, this is made quite clear. "The Levites; says the historian, "in the days of El iashab, joiada, johanan and jaddua were recorded above" the reign of Darius the Persian; that is, in the chronicles. Now I cannot imagine that anyone would believe that Ezra ' " or Nehemiah lived long enough to survive fourteen Persian kings. For Cyrus was the first to grant the jews per­ mission to rebuild their temple, and from this time to Darius, the fourteenth and last Persian king, is a period of more than 200 years. Therefore I have no doubt that these books were written some time after judas Maccabee restored the wor­ ship in the temple; and this is supported by the fact that at that time the spurious books of Daniel, Ezra and Esther were published by certain ill-disposed persons who were no doubt of the sect of the Sadducees" for the Pharisees never accepted

... See Supplementary Note 23 .

• * Unless this means 'beyond' it was an error of the scnbe who wrote ?)l' 'above' instead of ':P'- 'up to' . . . . See Supplemental)' Note 24.

[A conselVahve sect, belongmg mainly to the upper class and associated with the pnestly fami­ lies. On certam matters of doctrine they differed from the Pharisees, who, according to Josephus, "profess to be more religIOUS than the rest and to explain the laws more precisely "]

ChapteT 10 495

these books, to the best of my knowledge. And although we find in the so-called fourth book of Ezra certain stories that also appear in the Talmud, these books should not on that account be attributed to the Pharisees; for, except for the most ignorant, they are all of them convinced that these stories were added by some tri­ fler. In fact, I believe that this was the work of some people whose object was to bring universal ridicule on the traditions of the Pharisees.

Perhaps the reason why these four books were written and published at that particular time was to demonstrate to the people that Daniel's prophecies were fulfilled, thereby strengthening their devotion to rel igion and giving them, in the midst of such grievous misfortunes, some hope of better th ings and salvation to come. However, although these books belong to a period so much later and more recent, many errors have crept in as a result, I imagine, of the hastiness of the writ­ ers. Marginal notes, which I discussed in the preceding chapter, are to be found in these books as in the others, but in greater number, and there are in addition some passages which can have no other explanation, as I shall proceed to show. But let me first observe with regard to the marginal readings in these books, that if we take the Pharisees' view that these notes go back as far as the writers of these books, then we shall have to say that the writers- if there were more than one­ must have marked these marginal notes because they found that the chronicles which were their sources had been incorrectly written, and although there were some glaring faults, they did not venture to correct the writings of their predeces­ sors of long ago. There is no need for me to enlarge once again on this subject; and I shall therefore move on to point out such errors as are not indicated in the margin.

In the first place, there is no way of knowing how many faults have found their way into chapter 2 of Ezra. Verse 64 gives the sum total of all the items separately enumerated in the chapter as 42,360, yet the addition of the items there enumer­ ated gives the figure of 29,8 l 8. Thus there must be a mistake either in the sum to­ tal or in the separate items. Now the total is probably to be regarded as correct, because everyone would doubtless have remembered it as a noteworthy th ing, whereas this does not apply to the separate i tems. If an error had occurred in the sum total , everyone would have noticed it, and it would easily have been cor­ rected. This view is pla inly confirmed by chapter 7 ofN ehemiah, where this chap­ ter of Ezra (called the register of genealogy) was copied, as is expressly stated in verse 5 of the same chapter of Nehemiah. The sum total here given agrees exactly with that given in the book of Ezra , whereas the items are very different, some be­ ing greater and some less than in Ezra, and totalling 3 1 ,089. Therefore there can be no doubt tha� both in Ezra and Nehemiah, it is only in the separate items that errors have occurred.

The commentators who attempt to reconcile these obvious discrepancies exer­ cise each one his imagination according to h is ingenuity, and while paying hom­ age to every letter and word of Scripture, they merely succeed, as I have previously indicated, in exposing to contempt the writers of the Bible, as ifthese did not know how to speak or to arrange what they had to say. Indeed, they do no more than ob­ scure the pla in meaning of Scripture. If it were legitimate to extend their mode of

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interpretation to the whole of Scripture, there would not be a sentence whose true meaning could not be called into doubt. But I shall waste no more time on this subject, for I am convinced that if an historian were to allow himself the same lib­ erties that the commentators in their religious fervour grant to the writers of the Bible, he would be laughed to scorn by those very commentators. And if they re­ gard as blasphemous anyone who asserts that Scripture is in some places faulty, by what name, pray, shall I call those who read into Scripture whatever takes their fancy, who expose the sacred historians as stammering in utter confusion, who re­ ject the plainest and most evident meaning of Scripture? What can be clearer in Scripture than that Ezra with his companions, in the register of genealogy written in chapter 2 of the book called by his name, has given the itemised total of all those who set out for Jerusalem? For he included in that total not only those who could give account of their lineage but also those who could not do so. What can be clearer than that Nehemiah (ch. 7 v. 5 ) simply copied down this register? Those who offer another explanation are just denying the true meaning of Scripture, and consequently Scripture itself. They think it a mark of piety to alter some passages of Scripture to harmonise with others-an absurd piety, in that they adapt clear passages to suit the obscure, the correct to suit the filul ty, and they contaminate what is sound with what is corrupt. Yet far be it from me to accuse of blasphemy those who have no malicious intent, for to err is human.

But I return to my theme. Besides the undoubted arithmetical errors in the reg­ ister of genealogy both in Ezra and in Nehemiah, several others are to be re­ marked in family names, and many more in the genealogies, in the h istories, and even in the prophecies, I fear. The prophecy of Jeremiah, chapter 22, concerning Jeconiah seems in no way to agree with h is history (see the end of 2 Kings, and Jeremiah, and I Chron. ch. 3 v. 17, 1 8, 1 9), and especially the words of the last verse of that chapter. Nor again do I see how he could have said, "Thou shalt die in peace" of Zedekiah, whose eyes were put out after his sons were slain before him (Jer. ch. 34 v. 5 ) . If prophecies are to be interpreted by the event, these names should be interchanged, Jeconiah for Zedekiah and Zedekiah for Jeconiah. But this would be too paradoxical a proceeding, and so I prefer to leave this as an in­ soluble problem, especially since any mistake here must be attributed to the his­ torian, and not to a fault in the original manuscripts.

As for the other difficulties I have mentioned, I do not intend to deal with them here as I would only weary the reader, and in any case they have already been no­ ticed by others. Faced with the glaring contradictions which he saw in the ge­ nealogies I have spoken of, R. Shlom05 was driven to give ven t to these words (see his commentaries on I Chron. ch. 8): "The fact that Ezra (whom he takes to be the author of Chronicles) differs from Genesis in the names he gives to the sons of Benjamin and in the genealogy he establishes, and that again he differs from Joshua in his references to most of the cities of the Levites, is due to differences

5 [R. Sblomo-thls is R Shlomo Yltzhakl 1 040--1 105 , better known by the abbreViation Rashi. A french rabbinical scholar, whose commentary on the Bible won great fame 1

ChapteT 10 497

that he found in the original manuscripts." A l i ttle further on he says: "The ge­ nealogy of Gibeon and others is set down twice in different ways because in the case of each genealogy Ezra found several registers giving different versions. In copying these he followed the version of the majority of manuscripts; but when there were an equal number of differing genealogies, he gave both versions." Thus he unquestionably admits that these books were compiled from original manu­ scripts of doubtful accuracy and certa inty. Indeed, the commentators themselves, in their attempts to reconcile various passages, frequently do nothing more than indicate the causes of errors. Finally, no one of sound judgment, I imagine, can believe that the sacred historians deliberately wrote in such a way as to present the appearance of contradicting one another over and over again .

Perhaps someone will object that in this way I am plainly subverting Scripture, for according to this argument all may suspect it of being faulty at all points . But on the con trary, I have shown that by my approach to the problem I am doing a service to Scripture by preventing its clear and uncontaminated passages from be­ ing made to fit with faulty passages, and thus being corrupted. Nor does the cor­ rupt state of certain passages give grounds for bringing them all under suspicion. No book is ever free from faults; has anyone ever suspected books of being faulty through and through on that account? Surely no one would th ink so, especially if a book is clearly expressed and the author's meaning unmistakable.

Having now completed my task of enqu iring into the books of the Old Testa­ ment, I find no difficulty in concluding that no canon of the Sacred Books existed before the Maccabees,' that those books which we now possess were chosen from many others by the Pharisees of the second temple-who were also responsible for the set form of prayers-and that these books were accepted solely on their au­ thority. Therefore those who propose to prove the authority of Holy Scripture are required to prove the authority of each separate book. Proving the divine origin of one book does not sufficiently prove the divine origin of all; otherwise one would have to maintain that the council of Pharisees was infallible in making its selection , which is impossible to demonstrate. Now the evidence that compels me to maintain that the Pharisees alone were responsible for selecting the books of the Old Testament and introducing them into the canon is this, that in the last chapter of Daniel, verse 2, the resurrection of the dead is foretold, a doctrine de­ nied by the Sadducees. Secondly, in the Talmud the Pharisees themselves clearly confirm my view: in the Treatise of Sabbatus, chapter 2, fol io 30, page 2, we read, "R. Jehuda , entitled Rabi, has sa id, 'The learned sought to suppress the book of Ecclesiastes because its words are at variance with the words of the Law (i .e. the book of the Law of Moses) . Why did they not suppress it? Because its beginning is in accordance with the Law and its ending is in accordance with the Law ... . And a little further on, "They also sought to suppress the book of Proverbs." And fi­ nally, in the same treatise, chapter I , folio 1 3 , page 2, "Verily, name that man for good, he who was called Nel:lUnya, son of Hezekiah. Had it not been for him, the

'" See Supplementary Note 25

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book of Ezekiel would have been suppressed because its words were at variance with the words of the Law . . . . " Here is clear evidence that men learned in the Law summoned a council to decide what books should be received as sacred and what books should be excluded. Therefore whoever seeks assurance as to the au­ thority of all the books, let him aga in call a council and requ ire each book to be justified.

At this point we should proceed to a similar examination of the books of the New Testament. But I gather that this has been done by men highly skilled in the sciences and particularly in languages, and furthermore my knowledge of Greek is insufficient for venturing upon such an undertaking. And finally, we are with­ out the originals of the books, which were written in Hebrew. For these reasons I prefer to leave this task. However, there are certa in points particularly relevant to my general theme, and to these I shall draw attention in the following chapter.

CHAPTER 1 1

An enquiry as to whether the Apostles wrote their Epistles as Apostles and prophets, or as teachers.

The function of the Apostles is explained

Nobody who reads the New Testament can doubt that the Aposties were prophets. However, prophets did not speak at all times from revelation, but only on rare oc­ casions, as we showed towards the end of Chapter I; and so the question may be raised as to whether the Apostles wrote their Epistles as prophets, from revelation and express mandate l ike Moses, Jeremiah and others, or as private individuals or teachers. Th is is particularly a matter of some doubt because in I Cor. ch. 14 v. 6 Paul speaks of two kinds of preaching, one from revelation and the other from knowledge, so that the question may properly be raised as to whether the Apostles in their Epistles were prophesying or teaching.

Now if we examine the style of the Epistles, we shall find it to be entirely dif­ ferent from that of prophecy. It was the constant practice of the prophets to declare at all points that they were speaking at God's command, as in the phrases, 'Thus saith the Lord; 'The Lord of hosts saith; 'The commandment of the Lord' and so on. This seems to have been the case not only when they addressed public assem­ blies but also in their epistles containing revelations, as is clear from that of Elijah written to Jehoram (2 Chron. ch. 21 v. 1 2) , which likewise begins 'Thus saith the Lord: But in the Epistles of the Apostles we find nothing like th is; on the contrary, in I Cor. ch. 7 v. 40 Paul speaks according to his own opinion. Indeed, there are numerous instances of expressions indicating lack of positive certainty, such as 'We therefore think" (Rom. ch. 3 v. 28) and 'For I think' (Rom. ch. 8 v. 1 8) and many

'" See Supplementary Note 26

ChapteT 1 1 499

others of this kind. There are, furthermore, many expressions far removed from the authoritativeness of prophecy, such as 'But I speak this by way of concession to weakness, not of command' (I Cor. ch. 7 v. 6), and 'I give my judgment as one that hath obtained the mercy of the Lord to be fuithful' (I Cor. ch. 7 v. 2 5 ) , and many other instances. We must also remember that when in the aforementioned chap­ ter the Apostle says that he has or has not the instruction or commandment of God, he does not mean an instruction or commandment revealed to him by God, but only the teachings of Christ in the Sermon on the Mount.

Furthermore, if we examine the manner in which the Apostles expound the Gospel in their Epistles, we see that this, too, is markedly different from that of the prophets. For the Apostles everywhere employ argument, so that they seem to be conducting a discussion rather than prophesying. The prophetic writings, on the other hand, contain only dogma and decrees, for they represent God as speak­ ing not like one who reasons, but one who makes decrees issuing from the absolute power of h is nature. Then again, the authority of a prophet does not per­ mit of argumentation, for whoever seeks to base his dogmatic assertions on rea­ son thereby submits them to the arbitrary judgment of the individual . This is just what Paul, because he reasons, seems to have done, declaring in I Cor. ch. 1 0 v. 1 5 , " I speak a s to wise men; j udge ye what I say."

Finally, as we demonstrated in Chapter I , it was not by virtue of the natural l ight- that is, by the exercise of reason - that the prophets perceived what was re­ vealed to them. Although the Pentateuch contains some instances where con­ clusions seem to follow from a process of inference, a closer examination will show that these can in no way be regarded as instances of conclusive argumenta­ tion. For example, when Moses said to the Israelites in Deut. ch. 3 1 v. 27, "If, while I am yet al ive with you, ye have been rebell ious against the Lord, how much more so after my death," this must not be taken as meaning that Moses intends to prove by rational argument that the Israelites will necessarily turn away from the true worship of God after his death . The argument would have been false, as can be shown from Scripture itself; for the Israelites continued faithful during the l ife­ time of Joshua and the elders, and again later on during the lifetime of Samuel, David, Solomon and others. Therefore these words of Moses are merely a moral exhortation where, in a rhetorical expression, he predicts the future backsl iding of the people as his l ively imagination enabled him to p icture it. The view that Moses, in seeking to make his prediction credible to the people, spoke not as a prophet from revelation but on h is own initiative, I reject for the following rea­ son: in verse 21 of the same chapter we are told that God revealed this very th ing to Moses in different words. Now surely Moses stood in no need of plausible rea­ soning in order to give him greater assurance of God's prediction and decree, but i t was necessary that it should be vividly impressed on h is imagination, as we showed in Chapter 1. This could be most effectively achieved by his imagining the people's present obstinacy, which he had often experienced, as extending into the future.

All the arguments employed by Moses in the Pentateuch are to be understood in th is same way. They are not derived from textbooks oflogic, but are merely fig-

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ures of speech whereby he expressed God's decrees more effectively and imag­ ined them in lively fashion. I do not absolutely deny that the prophets may have argued from the basis of revelation, but this much I will asser� that the more use the prophets make of logical reasoning, the more closely does their revelatory knowledge approach to natural knowledge, and the su rest mark of supernatural knowledge in the prophets is their proclamation of pure dogma, or decrees, or j udgment And thus Moses, the greatest of the prophets, never engaged in logical argument, whereas in the case of Paul the lengthy chains of logical argumenta­ tion such as we find in the Epistle to the Romans were most certa inly not written from supernatural revelation.

Therefore the modes of expression and discussion employed by the Apostles in the Epistles clearly show that these originated not from revelation and God's com­ mand but from their own natural faculty of judgmen� and contain nothing but brotherly admonitions mingled with courteous expressions (very differen� in­ deed, from prophetic authoritativeness) , such as Paul's apology in Rom. ch. 1 5 v. 1 5 , "I have written to you more boldly in some sort, my brethren: We can also reach the same conclusion from the fact that nowhere do we read that the Apos­ tles were commanded to write, but only to preach whithersoever they wen� and to confirm their words by signs. Their personal presence and their signs were es­ sential for the conversion of the Gentiles to rel igion, and their strengthening therein, as Paul h imself expressly indicates in Rom. ch. I v. I I , "But I long to see you," he said, "so that ! may impart to you the gift of the Spirit, to the end that you may be strengthened."

Here it may be objected that the same line of argument could prove that nei­ ther was it as prophets that the Apostles did their preach ing; for in j ourneying to various places to preach they were not acting by the express mandate of God, as were the prophets in time gone by. We read in the Old Testament that Jonah went to Nineveh to preach, and at the same time that he was expressly sent there, and that it was revealed to him what he should there preach. So also it is related of Moses in considerable detail that he set ou t to Egypt as God's emissary, and at the same time he was told what he must say to the people of Israel and to Pharaoh, and what wonders he must perform to ga in their credence. Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel are expressly ordered to preach to the Israelites. Lastly, the prophets preached only what Scripture tells us they had received from God, whereas the New Testament very rarely tells us anything l ike this of the Apostles when they travelled about preaching. On the con trary, there are some passages which ex­ pressly indicate that the Apostles used their own in itiative in deCiding where to preach, as illustrated by the argument, amounting to a quarrel , between Paul and Barnabas (Acts ch. 15 v. 37, 38 etc . ) . And they were often frustrated, too, in their proposed journey, as Paul again testifies in Rom. ch. I v. 1 3 , "Oftentimes I pro­ posed to come to ye, and was prevented," and in ch. 1 5 v. 22, "For which cause I have been oftentimes hindered from coming to you; and in the last chapter of I Cor. v. 1 2, "And touching my brother Apollos, I greatly desired him to come unto you with the brethren, but his will was not at all to come; but when he shall have convenient time . . . . " Therefore, taking into account expressions l ike these and

ChapteT 1 1 50 1

the disagreements among the Apostles, and also that Scripture does not testify, as in the case of the prophets of old, that it was by God's command that they went about to preach , the conclusion should have been that in their preach ing, too, the Apostles acted as teachers, not as prophets.

But this difficulty is easily resolved if we consider the difference between the Apostles and the prophets of the Old Testament, in respect of their call ing. The latter were called to preach and prophesy only to certa in nations, not to all na­ tions, and they therefore needed a clear specific mandate for each nation. But the Apostles were called to preach to all men without restriction, and to convert all men to religion. So wherever they wen t they were fulfilling Christ's command. Nor did they need, before their mission, a revelation of what they were to preach ; for they were disciples of Christ, who had told them: "But when they deliver you up, take no thought of how or what ye shall speak, for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak" (see Matth. ch. 10 v. 19, 20). We may conclude, then, that the Apostles were inspired by special revelation only in what they orally preached when confirmed by signs, while that which they taught in writing or orally without the attestation of signs was spoken or written from knowledge, that is, natural knowledge (see I Cor. ch. 14 v. 6).

There is no problem for us in the fact that all the Epistles begin by setting forth the credentials of apostleship, because the Apostles, as I shall go on to show, were granted not only the gift of prophecy but also authority to teach. That is why we grant that they wrote the Epistles as Apostles, and it was for this reason that each began by affirming the credentials of his apostlesh ip. Or perhaps it was with view to winning the good will of the reader, and gaining his attention, that they first of all testified that they were those who were well known to all the faithful from their preaching, and had already shown on clear evidence that they were teaching true rel igion and the way of salvation. For I observe that all the statements made in these Epistles regarding the calling of the Apostles and their possessing the Holy and Divine Spirit refer to their past preaching, except only for those passages where 'the Spirit of God' and 'the Holy Spirit' are used in the sense of a mind, pure, blessed, devoted to God and so on (a point we discussed in our first chap­ ter) . For instance, in 1 Cor. ch. 7 v. 40, Paul says, "But she is happy if she so abide after my judgmen� and I th ink that I also have the Spirit of God;' where by the Spirit of God he means h is very mind, as the context shows. For his meaning is, 'I count as blessed a widow who does not remarry, I , who have resolved to l ive un­ married, and think myself blessed: There are other similar passages, which I need not quote here.

S ince, then , we must maintain that the Epistles of the Apostles were dictated solely by the natural l ight, we have now to consider how the Apostles were able, from natural knowledge alone, to teach matters that do not fall within its scope. But if we attend to what we said in Chapter 7 of th is treatise regarding Scriptural interpretation , the difficulty will disappear. For although the contents of the Bible for the most part surpass our understanding, they may safely be the subject of di� course provided that we admit no principles of interpretation other than those that Scripture presents. In the same way theApostles, on the basis of what they had seen

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and heard and had acquired by revelation, were able to reach many conclusions and make many inferences, and to teach these to men at their own discretion. Fur­ thermore, although religion as preached by the Apostles-who simply related the story of Christ- does not come within the scope of reason, yet its substance, which consists essentially in moral teachings as does the whole ofChrisfs doctrine: can be readily grasped by everyone by the natural l ight of reason.

Finally, the Apostles needed no supernatural l ight to adapt a religion, which they had previously confirmed with signs, to the common understanding of mankind so as to be readily and sincerely accepted by everyone; nor yet did they need a supernatural l ight in their task of exhortation. This is the object of the Epis­ tles, to teach and exhort men in whatever way each Apostle judged would best strengthen them in rel igious faith. And here we should recall a point recently mentioned, namely, that the Apostles had received not only the power to preach the story of Christ as prophets-that is, confirming it with signs- but also the au­ thority to teach and exhort in whatever way each should think best. Both these gifts are clearly indicated by Paul in 2 Timoth. ch. I v. I I , "Whereunto I am ap­ pointed a preacher, and an Apostle, and a teacher of the Gentiles;' and again in I Timoth. ch. 2 v. 7, "Whereunto I am ordained a preacher and an Apostle (I speak the truth in Christ, and l ie not), a teacher of the Gentiles in fa ith (note this) and verity." In these passages, I say, he clearly indicates his credentials both as an Apostle and as a teacher, while his authority to exhort whomsoever he would, on all occasions, is indicated in Philem. v. 8, thus, "Al though I might be much bold in Christ to enjoin thee that which is fitting, yet. . . ." Here we should observe that if Paul had received from God, in his capacity of prophet, that which it behoved him to en join on Philemon, and which it was his duty as a prophet to enjoin on him, surely it would have been wrong for him to change God's command into an entreaty. Therefore he must be understood as referring to his freedom to exhort, which belonged to him as a teacher, not a prophet.

However, it does not as yet clearly follow that the Apostles were empowered to choose the method of teaching which each one judged the best; we have merely shown that by virtue of their apostleship they were not only prophets but teach­ ers. To justify the former assertion we might call on the assistance of reason, which clearly tells us that he who has the authority to teach has also the authority to choose h is own way of teach ing. But it would be more satisfactory to demonstrate this entirely from Scripture, which makes it perfectly clear that each of the Apos­ tles chose h is own particular way, as shown by these words of Paul, Rom. ch. 1 5 v. 20, "striving to preach the Gospel not where Christ was named, lest I should build upon another man's foundation." Now if all the Apostles employed the same method of teaching and had built the Christian rel igion on the same foundation, Paul could have had no justification in referring to another Apostle's work as 'an­ other man's foundation; inasmuch as i t was the same as his own. But since he does so refer to it, we have to conclude that each Apostle built rel igion on a dif-

'" See Supplementary Note 27

ChapteT 12 503

ferent foundation, and that in their capacity as teachers the Apostles were in just the same position as other teachers; they each have their own method, so that they always prefer to instruct those who are beginners and have never studied under any other master, whether in the case oflanguages, the sciences, and even math­ ematics, of whose truth no one can doubt.

Again, if we study the Epistles themselves with some care, we shall see that, while the Apostles were in agreement about rel igion itself, they differed widely as to its foundations. In order to strengthen men in their rel igious fa ith and to show that salvation depends solely on the grace of God, Paul taught that no one can boast by reason of works, but only his faith, and no one can be justified by works (see Rom. ch. 3 v. 27, 28), and he goes on to teach the complete doctrine of pre­ destination. James, on the other hand, in h is Epistle teaches that man is j ustified by works, and not by fa ith alone (ch. 2 v. 24), and his doctrine of rel igion is con­ fined within a small compass, leaving out all those discussions we find in Paul.

Finally, there can be no doubt that these differences between the Apostles in the grounding of their rel igion gave rise to many disputes and schisms to vex the Church continually right from the time of the Apostles, and they will assuredly continue to vex the Church until the day comes when rel igion shall be separated from philosophic speculation and reduced to the few simple doctrines that Christ taught h is people. This was impossible for the Apostles, because the Gospel was then unknown to mankind; so to avoid offending men's ears by the novelty of its doctrine, they adapted it, as far as possible, to the character of their contempo­ raries (see I Cor. ch. 9 v. 1 9, 20 etc. ) , building on foundations that were most familiar and accepted at that time. Thus none of the Apostles did more ph ilosophising than Paul, who was called to preach to the Gentiles. The other Apostles, preaching to the Jews who despised ph ilosophy, l ikewise adapted them­ selves to the character of their listeners (see Galat. ch. 2 v. I I etc . ) , and taught a rel igious doctrine free from all philosoph ic speculation. Happy indeed would be our age, if we were to see rel igion freed again from all superstition.

CHAPTER 1 2

Of the true original of the Divine Law. In what respect Scripture is called holy and the Word of God. It is shown

that Scripture, insofar as it contains the Word of God, has come down to us uncorrupted

Those who look upon the Bible, in its present form, as a message for mankind sent down by God from heaven, will doubtless cry out that I have committed the sin against the Holy Spirit in maintaining that the Word of God is faulty, muti­ lated, adulterated and inconsisten� that we possess it only in fragmentary form, and that the original of God's covenant with the Jews has perished. However, I am

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confiden t that reflection will at once put an end to their outcry; for not only rea­ son itself, but the assertions of the prophets and the Apostles clearly proclaim that God's eternal Word and covenant and true rel igion are divinely inscribed in men's hearts- that is, in men's minds-and that this is the true handwriting of God which he has sealed with his own seal, this seal being the idea of himself, the im­ age of his own divinity, as it were.

To the early Jews religion was transmitted in the form of written law because at that time they were just l ike children; but later on Moses (Deut. ch. 30 v_ 6) and Jeremiah (ch. 3 1 v. 33) told them of a time to come when God would inscribe his law in their hearts. So while i t was proper only for the Jews of long ago, and especially the Sadducees, to strive in defence of a law written on tablets, this does not apply to those who have the law inscribed in their minds. Whoever reflects on this will find nothing in what I have said that is at variance with God's word or true rel igion and faith , or can weaken it; on the contrary, he will realise that I am strengthening it, as I have also shown towards the end of Chapter 1 0_ If th is were not so, I should have resolved to remain completely silent; indeed, to avoid cre­ ating any difficulties, I should gladly have conceded that in Scripture there l ie h idden mysteries of the deepest kind. But since this approach has led to gross su­ perstition and other pernicious ills, of which I have spoken in the preface to Chap­ ter 7, ! feel I must not abandon my task, and all the more so because religion stands in no need of the trappings of superstition. On the contrary, its glory is diminished when it is embell ished with such fancies_

But it will be said that, although God's law is inscribed in our hearts, Scripture is nevertheless the Word of God, and it is no more permissible to say of Scripture that it is mutilated and contaminated than to say this of God's Word. In reply, I have to say that such objectors are carrying their piety too far, and are turning rel igion into superstition; indeed, instead of God's Word they are beginn ing to worship l ikenesses and images, that is, paper and ink. This much I do know, I have sa id nothing unworthy of God's Word, for I have affirmed nothing that I have not proved to be true by the plainest of arguments , and therefore I also de­ clare with certa inty that I have said nothing that is impious or that smacks of impiety. I do admit that some ungodly men who find rel igion a burden can as­ sume from my views a l icence to sin and, without any justification and merely to gratify their desires, can conclude therefrom that Scripture is at all points faulty and contaminated, and therefore has no authority. But such people are beyond help; as the old saying goes, nothing can be so accurately stated as to be incapable of distortion by misrepresen tation. Those who wish to give rein to their desires can easily find any reason for so doing. Men were no better in time gone by when they had the original writings, the Ark of the Covenant, and indeed the prophets and the Apostles in person, nor were they any more obedient. All men, Jews and Gentiles al ike, have always been the same, and in every age virtue has been exceedingly rare.

However, to remove any remaining doubt, we must now demonstrate in what sense the terms 'sacred' and 'divine' should be appl ied to Scripture and to any inanimate thing, and then we must show what the Word of God really is, that it

ChapteT 12 505

is not confined within the compass of a set number of books, and, further, that Scripture could not have been corrupted insofar as it teaches what is necessary for obedience and salvation. From such a demonstration everyone will readily be able to see that we have said nothing aga inst the Word of God or given any occasion for impiety.

A thing is called sacred and divine when its purpose is to foster piety and reli­ gion, and it is sacred only for as long as men use it in a rel igious way. If men cease to be pious, the thing will l ikewise cease to be sacred; if it is devoted to impious uses, then that which before was sacred will become unclean and profane. For ex­ ample, jacob called a certain place Beth EI (House of God) because there he wor­ shipped God who was revealed to him. But the prophets called that same place 'house of inquity' (see Amos ch. 5 v. 5 and Hosea ch. 10 v. 5) because the Israelites, at the instigation of jeroboam, were there wont to sacrifice to idols. Another ex­ ample will make the point quite clear. Words acquire a fixed meaning solely from their use; if in accordance with this usage they are so arranged that readers are moved to devotion, then these words will be sacred, and l ikewise the book con­ ta ining this arrangement of words. But if these words at a later time fall into dis­ use so as to become meaningless, or if the book falls into utter neglect, whether from malice or because men no longer feel the need of it, then both words and book will be without value and without sanctity. Lastly, if these words are arranged differently, or ifby custom they acquire a meaning contrary to their original mean­ ing, then both words and book will become impure and profane instead of sacred. Thus it follows that nothing is sacred or profane or impure in an absolute sense apart from the mind, but only in relation to the mind. This aga in is made abun­ dantly clear in many passages of Scripture. To take one case at random, jeremiah says in ch. 7 v. 4 that the jews of his time were wrong to call Solomon's temple the temple of God; for, as he goes on to say in the same chapter, the temple was entitled to God's name only as long as it was a place of resort for men who wor­ shipped God and upheld righteousness. If it became a place of resort for mur­ derers, thieves, idolaters and other scoundrels, then it was better termed a den of sinners.

I find it strange that Scripture tells us nothing of what became of the Ark of the Covenant; but there can be no doubt that it perished or was burnt along with the temple, in spite of the fact that the Hebrews regarded nothing as more sacred or more worthy of reverence. So Scripture l ikewise is sacred, and its words divine, only as long as it moves men to devotion towards God; but if it is utterly disre­ garded by them, as it was once by the jews, it is nothing more than paper and ink, and their neglect renders it completely profane, leaving it exposed to corruption . So if it then suffers corruption or perishes, it is wrong to say that the Word of God suffers corruption or perishes, just as in the time of jeremiah it would have been wrong to say that the temple, which at that time was the temple of God, had per­ ished in flames. jeremiah makes the same point with regard to the Law, for he re­ bukes the ungodly of his time with these words: "Wherefore say you that we are the learned, and that the Law of God is with us? Surely, it has been composed in vain, in vain has the pen of the scribes (been made)." That is to say, although

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Scripture is in your keeping, you are wrong in saying that you have the Law of Cod, since you have rendered it va in.

So, too, when Moses broke the first tablets, he certa inly did not in his anger cast from his hands and shatter the Word of Cod-this would be inconceivable of Moses and of the Word of Cod- but merely stones wh ich , although previously sacred because on them was inscribed the Covenant under which the Jews had bound themselves to obey Cod, were now without any sanctity whatever, the Jews having null ified that Covenant by worshipping the calf. And for the same reason the second tablets could not avoid destruction along with the Ark. It is therefore not surprising that the original of Moses' writing, too, is no longer extant, and that the events we previously described have befallen the books which we do possess, seeing that even the true original of Cod's Covenant, the most sacred of all things, could have completely perished.

Let them cease, therefore, to bring the charge of impiety aga inst us, who have said noth ing contrary to the Word of Cod, nor corrupted it; let them turn their anger, if they have any just cause for anger, against those men of ages past whose wickedness desecrated the Ark, the temple, the Law and all things sacred, ex­ posing them to corruption. Furthermore, if in accordance with the saying of the Apostle in 2 Cor. ch. 3 v. 3 they have within themselves the Epistle of Cod, writ­ ten not with ink but with the Spirit of Cod, not on tablets of stone but on the fleshly tablets of the heart, let them cease to worship the letter and to show so much concern for it.

I th ink I have now satisfactorily explained in what sense Scripture should be regarded as sacred and divine. We have next to consider what is to be rightly un­ derstood by the phrase 'dabaT Jehovah' (the Word of the Lord). 'DabaT' means word, speech, command and thing. In Chapter I we have already explained the reasons why a thing is sa id in Hebrew to be of Cod, and is referred to Cod, and from this we can readily understand what Scripture means by the word, speech, command, th ing of Cod. We therefore need not go over all that ground again, nor repeat what we said in Chapter 6 in the th ird section of our exposition con­ cerning miracles. A reference to the points there made will itself be sufficient to afford a better understanding of what I now intend to say: the phrase 'Word of Cod; when used in connection with anything other than Cod himself, properly means the Divine Law which we discussed in Chapter 4; that is, rel igion univer­ sal to the entire human race, or catholic religion. For this, see Isaiah ch. 1 v. 1 0 etc . , where he teaches the true way o f life a s consisting not i n ceremonial obser­ vance but in charity and sincerity of heart, calling it Cod's Law and Cod's Word without distinction.

The expression is also used metaphorically for Nature's order and destiny (be­ cause in reality this is dependent on and follows from the eternal decree of the di­ vine nature), and especially for that part of Nature's order that the prophets had foreseen; for the prophets did not envisage future events as the result of natural causes, but as Cod's will and decrees. Again, this expression is also used for any edict of any prophet insofar his perception resulted not from the natural l ight which is common to all, but from his special power or prophetic gift. This use of

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the expression was natural to the prophets, because in actual fact they were wont to perceive God as a lawgiver, as we showed in Chapter 4. There are, then, three reasons why Scripture is called the Word of God: because it teaches true religion , of which God is the eternal Author; because it relates predictions of the future as God's decrees; and lastly, because the real authors of Scripture taught for the most part not from the natu ral l ight common to all but from a l igh t peculiar to them­ selves, and they represented God as making these utterances. And although, be­ sides these features, Scripture contains a great deal of merely h istorical narrative such as can be apprehended by the natural l ight, it takes the name 'Word of God' from its most importan t aspect.

It can thus be readily seen in what sense God is to be understood as the author of the Bible: it is not because God willed to confer on men a set number of books, but because of the true rel igion that is taught therein. And this also explains for us why the Bible is divided into the Old and New Testaments. Before the coming of Christ the prophets used to proclaim religion as the law of their own country by virtue of the covenant made in the time of Moses, whereas after the coming of Christ the Apostles preached religion to all men as a universal law solely by virtue of Christ's Passion. The books of the New Testament contained no different doc­ trine, nor were they written as documents of a covenant, nor was the un iversal rel igion -which is entirely in accord with Nature-anything new, except in re­ lation to men who knew it not. "He was in the world;' says John the Evangelist, ch. I v. 1 0, "and the world knew Him not."

Therefore, even if we possessed fewer books of the Old Testament, we should not be deprived of the Word of God, whose proper meaning, as we have said, is true rel igion. After all, we do not regard ourselves at present as deprived of the Word of God in spite of being without many very important writings, such as the book of the Law, which was zealously guarded in the temple as the original of the Covenant, and the books of the Wars, the books of the Chronicles, and numer­ ous others from which our Old Testament books were gathered and compiled. And there are many other arguments to confirm this view.

I. In the case of both Testaments, the books were not written by express command at one and the same time for all ages. They were the fortuitous work of certa in men who wrote according to the requ irements of their age and of their own particular character, as is clearly shown by the call ing of the prophets (who were called to admonish the ungodly of their time) and also by the Epistles of the Apostles.

2 . To understand Scripture and the mind of the prophets is by no means the same thing as to understand the mind of God, that is, to understand truth itself. This follows from our discussion of the prophets in Chapter 2, and we showed in Chapter 6 that th is also appl ies to the narratives and the miracles. But this cannot be said of those passages that are concerned with true rel igion and true virtue.

3 . The books of the Old Testament were selected out of many books, and were finally assembled and approved by a council of Pharisees, as we showed in Chap­ ter 1 0. The books of the New Testament were also admitted to the canon by the decrees of certa in Councils, who rejected as spurious several other books held by

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many as sacred_ But the membership of these councils (both of Pharisees and of Christians) did not consist of prophets, but only of teachers and scholars. Still , it must be granted that they took the Word of God as their standard in making their selection, and so they must have been acquainted with the Word of God before they approved all the books.

4. The Apostles wrote not as prophets but as teachers (as we said in the pre­ ceding chapter) , and they chose such methods of teaching as they thought best adapted to those whom they wished to instruct at the time. Hence it follows (as we showed at the end of that same chapter) that their writings contain many things that are no longer relevant to rel igion .

5. Finally, there are four Evangelists in the New Testament; and who can be­ lieve that God willed to tell the story of Christ and impart it in writing to mankind four times over? And although one version may contain some details that are omit­ ted in another, and one version is often helpful to the understanding of another, we should not thus conclude that all that was related in the four Gospels was es­ sential for us to know, and that God chose the Evangelists to write so that the l ife of Christ might be better understood. Each Evangelist preached his message in a different place, and each wrote down in simple style what he had preached with view to tell ing clearly the story of Christ, and not with view to explaining the other Evangelists. If a comparison of their different versions sometimes produces a read­ ier and clearer understanding, th is is a matter of chance, and it occurs only in a few passages whose obscurity would not have rendered the story less clear or mankind less blessed.

We have thus shown that it is only in respect of rel igion - i.e. in respect of the universal divine law-that Scripture can properly be called the Word of God. It remains for us now to show that Scripture, insofar as it is properly thus called, is neither faulty, nor corrupted, nor mutilated. Now I here apply the terms 'faulty', 'corrupted' and 'mutilated' to that which is so incorrectly written and composed that its meaning cannot be arrived at from l inguistic usage, or be derived from Scripture alone. I am not going to say that Scripture, insofar as it contains the Di­ vine Law, has always preserved the same markings, the same letters and the same words (I leave this to be proved by the Massoretes, who zealously worship the let­ ter) , but I will say th is, that its meaning-and only in respect of mean ing can any utterance be called divine-has reached us uncorrupted, even if it be supposed that the words by which it was originally expressed have undergone many changes. Such alterations, as we have seen, take nothing away from the divinity of Scripture; for Scripture would be just as divine even if it had been written in different words or in a different language. Therefore there can be no doubt that the Divine Law has come down to us in this respect uncorrupted. For from Scrip­ ture itself we learn that its message, unclouded by any doubt or any ambiguity, is in essence this, to love God above all, and one's neighbour as oneself. There can be no adulteration here, nor can it have been written by a hasty and errant pen ; for if doctrine differing from this is to be found anywhere in Scripture, all the rest of its teaching must also have been different. For this is the basis of the whole struc-

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ture of rel igion; if it is removed, the entire fabric crashes to the ground, and then such a Scripture would not be the sort of thing we are now discussing, but a quite different book. It is, then, incontestable that th is has always been the teaching of Scripture, and therefore no error capable of corrupting th is meaning can have en­ tered without its being immediately observed by all, nor could anyone have de­ liberately corrupted it without his evil intent being at once detected.

Since, then, it must be maintained that th is fundamental principle is uncor­ rupted, the same must be granted of all that indisputably follows therefrom and is l ikewise fundamental, such as that God exists, that He provides for all th ings, that He is omnipotent, that by His decrees the good prosper and the wicked are cast down , and that our salvation depends solely on H is grace. For all these are doc­ trines which are plainly taught throughout Scripture, and which it was at all times bound to teach ifall the rest of its teachings were not to be vain and without foun­ dation. And we must accept as equally uncorrupted, inasmuch as they quite clearly follow from this universal basis, all its other moral teachings, such as to up­ hold justice, to help the helpless, to do no murder, to covet no man's goods and so on. None of these, I say, could have been corrupted by human malice or de­ stroyed by time's decay; for if any part of them had disappeared, the underlying universal principle would at once have restored it, especially the doctrine of char­ ity, which is everywhere commended in the highest degree in both Testaments. Furthermore, although there is no crime so abominable as not to have been com­ mitted by someone, there is no one who, to excuse his crimes, would attempt to destroy the law or to introduce some impiety as eternal doctrine and the road to salvation. For we see that human nature is so constituted that any man (be he king or subject) who has committed a base action seeks to cloak his deed with such outward show as to give the impreSSion of having done nothing contrary to justice and decency. We may therefore accept without reservation that the universal Di­ vine Law, as taught by Scripture, has reached us uncorrupted.

Besides the above, there are other things which we cannot doubt have been transmitted to us in good fai th , such as the chief h istorical narratives of Scripture, these being well known to all. It was the custom of the Jewish people in ancient times to chant their nation's history in psalms. The chief facts of the l ife of Christ, too, and his Passion were immediately spread abroad throughout the whole Ro­ man Empire. It is therefore impossible to believe that, without the connivance of a large part of mankind-which is quite inconceivable-later generations handed down a version of the main outlines of these events different from what they had received. So any alterations or faults can have occurred only with respect to mi­ nor matters, such as a few details in history or prophecy designed to foster people's devotion , or in a few miracles so as to perplex philosophers, or in speculative mat­ ters after schismatics had begun the practice of introducing these into rel igion in order that each of them might buttress h is own fictions by misusing divine au­ thority. But for salvation it matters l ittle whether these are instances of corruption or not, as I shall explain in full in the next chapter; though I believe this is already proved by what I have previously said, especially in Chapter 2.

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CHAPTER 1 3

It is shown that Scripture teaches only very simple doctrines and inculcates nothing but obedience,

and that concerning the nature of God it teaches only what men can imitate by a definite code of conduct

In Chapter 2 of th is treatise we showed that the prophets possessed only an ex­ traordinary power of imagination , not of intellec� and that God did not reveal to them any philosoph ic mysteries, but only things of a very simple nature, adapted to their preconceived beliefs. Then in Chapter 5 we showed that Scripture con­ veys and teaches its message in a way best suited to the comprehension of all men, not resorting to a chain of deductive reasoning from axioms and defin itions, but speaking quite simply. And to induce belief, it relies only on past events, such as miracles and histories, to confirm its message, employing such style and mode of expression as is most l ikely to make a strong impression on men's minds. (On this subject see the third section of Chapter 6.) Finally, in Chapter 7 we showed that the difficulty in understanding Scripture lies only in its language, and not in the high level of its argumentation. We may add furthermore that the prophets preached not to scholars but to all Jews without exception, and the Apostles were wont to teach their Gospel in churches which were places of public assembly_ From all these considerations it follows that Scriptural doctrine contains not ab­ struse speculation or philosophic reasoning, but very simple matters able to be un­ derstood by the most sluggish mind.

I am therefore astonished at the ingenuity displayed by those, of whom I have already spoken, who find in Scripture mysteries so profound as not to be open to explanation in any human language, and who have then imported into rel igion so many matters of a philosophic nature that the Church seems l ike an academy, and rel igion l ike a science, or rather, a subject for debate. Yet why should I be sur­ prised that men who vaunt themselves on possessing a supernatural l ight refuse to yield precedence in knowledge to men who possess nothing more than the nat­ ural l ight? I should indeed be surprised if they taught any purely philosophic doc­ trine which was new and not already a commonplace in ages past among Gentile philosophers (whom they nevertheless accuse of bl indness); for if you enquire as to the nature of the mysteries which they see lurking in Scripture, you will cer­ ta inly find nothing but the notions of an Aristotle or a Plato or the l ike, which often seem to suggest the fantasies of any uneducated person rather than the find­ ings of an accompl ished biblical scholar.

However, I do not go so far as to maintain that nothing whatsoever of a purely philosophic nature is to be found in Scripture's teaching, for in the last chapter we set forth certa in affirmations of this kind as Scripture's basic principles. But this much I will say, that such affirmations are very few, and of a very simple na-

ChapteT 13 5 1 1

ture. What they are, and o n what grounds they are determined, I now intend to expla in; and this we can easily do now that we know that Scripture's aim was not to impart scientific knowledge; for this leads obviously to the conclusion that Scripture demands nothing from men but obedience, and condemns not igno­ rance, but only obstinacy. Furthermore, since obedience to God consists solely in loving one's neighbour (for he who loves h is neighbour in obedience to God's command has fulfilled the Law, as Paul says in Romans chapter 1 3 v. 8), it follows that Scripture commands no other kind ofknowledge than that which is neces­ sary for all men before they can obey God according to this commandmen� and without which men are bound to be self-willed, or at least unschooled to obedi­ ence. Other philosophic questions which do not directly tend to th is end, whether they be concerned with knowledge of God or with knowledge of Nature, have nothing to do with Scripture, and should therefore be dissociated from revealed rel igion.

Now although, as we have said, th is is now quite obvious to all, nevertheless, since this matter is of cardinal importance to the concept of religion , I shall go into the whole question more carefully and explain it more clearly. To this end I must in the first place demonstrate that the intellectual or exact knowledge of God is not a gift shared by all the fa ithful, as is obedience; secondly, that the knowl­ edge which God through the medium of h is prophets has required of all men uni­ versally, and which every man is in duty bound to possess, is no other than the knowledge of his divine justice and charity. Both of these points can be readily demonstrated from Scripture.

The first clearly follows from Exodus ch. 6 v. 3 , where in order to emphasise the singular grace bestowed on Moses, God says to him, "And I appeared unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob as El Shaddai, but by my name Jehovah was I not known to them." For a clearer explanation of this passage it should be observed that El Shaddai means in Hebrew 'the God who suffices; because to each man he gives that which suffices for him; and although 'Shaddai' is often used by itself to mean God, there can be no doubt that in all cases the word 'El' , God, is to be understood. Again, it should be observed that in Scripture no word but 'Jehovah' is to be found to indicate the absolute essence of God, as unrelated to created th ings. That is why the Hebrews contend that this is, strictly speaking, God's only name, the other names being forms of address; and it is a fact that the other names of God, whether substantive or adjectival , are attributes belonging to God insofar as he is considered as related to created things, or manifested through them. For example, take "K El (or, with the paragogic n he, n"K Eloha), which sign ifies nothing other than 'powerful', as all agree, and belongs to God only through his pre-eminence, in the way that the term 'Apostle' belongs to Paul. The qual ities of his potency are explicated by additional adjectives, such as the great, the awful, the just, the merciful El (mighty one); or else, to embrace them all in one, this word is used in the plural with a s ingular meaning, a com­ mon practice in Scripture.

Now since God tells Moses that he was not known to the patriarchs by the name 'Jehovah', it follows that they were not acquainted with any attribute of God

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that expresses his absolute essence, but only with his deeds and promises, that is, his power as manifested through visible th ings. Yet in saying th is to Moses God is not accusing the patriarchs of want of faith; on the contrary, he is extolling their trust and fa ith which, although they could not atta in to Moses' special knowledge of God, led them to believe in the sureness and certa inty of God's promises. In this they were unlike Moses who, despite his more exalted conception of God, yet doubted God's promises, and reproached God for bringing the Jews to a worse plight instead of the promised salvation .

The patriarchs, then, did not know God's distinctive name, and God tells Moses this in praise of their singlemindedness and faith , and also to signify the special grace granted to Moses. Hence it clearly follows, as we asserted in the first place, that men are not bound as a command to know God's attributes; this is a special gift granted only to certa in of the faithful. It is not worth the effort to demonstrate this by further Scriptural testimony, for who can fa il to see that the faithful have not all possessed an equal knowledge of God, and that nobody can be wise by command any more than he can l ive and exist by command? Men, women, children, all are equally capable of obedience by command, but not of wisdom by command. Now if anyone says that, while there is no need to under­ stand God's attributes, there is a duty to believe them straightforwardly without proof, he is plainly talking nonsense. In the case of things invisible which are 01>­ jects only of the mind, proofS are the only eyes by which they can be seen ; there­ fore those who do not have such proofs can see nothing at all of these things. So when they merely repeat what they have heard of such matters, this is no more relevant to or indicative of their mind than the words of a parrot or a puppet speak­ ing without meaning or sense.

However, before going any further, I should explain why Genesis often says that the patriarchs invoked God as Jehovah, which seems flatly to contradict what has been said above. Now if we have regard to the demonstration of Chapter 8, we shall find that there is no real contradiction. In that chapter we showed that the writer of the Pentateuch did not apply to things and places the exact names that were in use at the time to which he was referring, but names more familiar to the time of the writer. So in Genesis God as invoked by the patriarchs is signi­ fied by the name 'Jehovah', not because he was known to them by this name but because this was the name most revered by the Jews. This, I say, is the view we must take, seeing that our Exodus text expressly states that God was not known to the patriarchs by that name. There is a further reason in Exodus ch. 3 v. 1 3 , where Moses desires to know the name of God: if th is name had previously been known, it must surely have been known to Moses. We must therefore hold to the view we put forward, that the fa ithful patriarchs did not know this name of God, and that knowledge of God is God's gift, not a command.

It is now time to pass on to our second point, which is to show that God through his prophets asks no other knowledge of hims elf than the knowledge of his divine justice and charity, that is, such attributes of God as men find it possible to imi­ tate by a definite rule of conduct. This is the express teaching of Jeremiah, who in chapter 22 v. 1 5 , 16 says, speaking of king Josiah, "Thy father did eat and drink

ChapteT 13 5 1 3

a n d d o judgment and justice; then i t was well with him. H e judged the cause of the poor and the needy; then it was well with him. For (note well) this is what it is to know me, said the Lord." The passage in chapter 9 v. 23 is no less clear. "But let him that glorieth glory in th is, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord who exerciseth lovingkindness, judgment and righteousness in the earth, for in these things I deligh� sa ith the Lord." The same point is also made in Exodus ch. 34 v. 6, 7 , where God reveals to Moses, who desires to see and know him, no other attributes than those which make manifest the divine justice and charity. Finally, we should here call particular attention to that passage in John­ of which more hereafter-where he singles out charity a s the only means ofmak­ ing God manifest (since nobody has seen God), and concludes that he who has charity truly has God, and knows God.

We see, then, that Jeremiah, Moses and John sum up very briefly the knowl­ edge of God which it is the duty of every man to have, and they hold it to consist simply in what we asserted, that God is supremely just and supremely merciful, that is, the one perfect pattern of the true life. Furthermore, Scripture never ex­ pressly gives a definition of God, nor does it enjoin on us the acceptance of any other attributes than those I have just described, nor does it formally commend other attributes as it does these. All this leads us to the conclusion that the intel­ lectual knowledge of God which contemplates his nature as it really is in itself­ a nature which men cannot imitate by a set rule of conduct nor take as their ex­ ample-has no bearing on the practice of a true way of l ife, on fa ith, and on revealed religion, and that consequently men can go far astray in this matter with­ out sinning. It is therefore by no means surprising that God adapted himself to the imagination and the preconceived bel iefs of the prophets, and that the fuith­ ful have enterta ined very diverse ideas about God, as we demonstrated with many examples in Chapter 2 . And it is aga in not at all surprising that the Sacred Books frequently speak so inexactly about God, attributing to him hands, fee� eyes, ears, mind, movement and even emotions such as jealousy, pity and so forth, and de­ picting him as a judge sitting on a royal throne in heaven, with Christ on his right hand. For they are speaking in accordance with the understanding of the com­ mon people, in whom Scripture seeks to inculcate obedience, not learning.

Yet the common run oftheologians have argued that those passages which their natural l ight has convinced them are not in agreement with the divine nature should be interpreted in a metaphorical way, while whatever is beyond their un­ derstanding must be taken l i terally. But if every passage of the former kind in Scripture was meant to be understood and interpreted metaphorically, Scripture must have been written not for the common people and the uneducated masses, but for the learned alone, and for philosophers in particular. Indeed, if it were a sin to believe with simple p iety and faith those ideas about God which we have just recounted, then surely the prophets should have exercised the greatest care to avoid such expressions, having regard to the limited intell igence of the com­ mon people; and they should have made it their primary aim to teach the at­ tributes of God expl icitly and clearly in the manner that every man is required to accept them. Nowhere has th is been done.

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Thus we should reject the view that anyth ing of piety or impiety attaches to be­ l iefs taken simply in themselves without respect to works. A man's bel iefs should be regarded as pious or impious only insofar as he is thereby induced to obey the moral law, or else assumes from them the licence to sin or rebel. Therefore if any­ one by bel ieving what is true becomes self-willed, he has a faith which in reality is impious; and ifby believing what is false he becomes obedient to the moral law, he has a fa ith which is pious_ For we have shown that true knowledge of God is not commanded, but is a divine gift, and that God has asked no other knowledge from men but knowledge of his divine justice and charity, this knowledge being necessary not for philosophical understanding, but for obedience to the moral law_

CHAPTER 1 4

An analysis of faith, the faithful and the fundamental principles of faith. Faith is finally set apart from philosophy

Anyone who gives any thought to this question cannot fa il to realise that, for a true comprehension of fa ith, it is essential to understand that Scripture is adapted to the intellectual level not only of the prophets but of the unstable and fickle Jew­ ish multitude. He who indiscriminately accepts everyth ing in Scripture as being the universal and absolute teaching about God, and does not distinguish precisely what is adapted to the understanding of the masses, is bound to confuse the be­ l iefs of the masses with divine doctrine, to proclaim as God's teaching the figments and arbitrary opinions of men, and to abuse Scriptural authority. Who, I ask, does not see this as the main reason why so many quite contradictory beliefs are taught by different sects as articles offaith, which they confirm with many citations from Scripture, so that in the Netherlands the saying 'Geen ketter sander letter' ] has long become a proverb? The Sacred Books were not the work of a single writer, nor were they written for a people of a single age; they were written by a number of men of different character and different generations over a period of time wh ich , taking them all into account, will be found to extend to about two thousand years, and perhaps much longer.

However, I will not level the charge of impiety against those sectaries simply because they adapt the words of Scripture to their own beliefs. Just as Scripture was once adapted to the understanding of the people of that time, in the same way anyone may now adapt i t to his own bel iefs ifhe feels that this will enable him to obey God with heartier will in those matters that pertain to justice and charity. My accusation against them is th is, that they refuse to grant this same freedom to others. All those who do not share their opinions, however righteous and truly vir-

I [No heretic Without a text. J

Chapt'T H 5 1 5

tuous the dissenters may be, they persecute a s God's enemies, while those who follow their lead, however dissolute they may be, they cherish as God's elect. Surely nothing more damnable than this, and more fraught with danger to the state, can be devised.

So in order to establish what are the l imits of individual freedom of opinion in regard to faith, and who should be seen as belonging to the fa ithful in spite of their diverse opinions, we must define fa ith and its basic principles. This I propose to do in th is present chapter, at the same time distinguish ing between fa ith and phi­ losophy, this being the main object of this entire treatise.

To demonstrate these matters in good order, let us look again at the chief aim of Scripture in its entirety, for this will furnish us with a true norm for defining faith. In the last chapter we said that the aim of Scripture is simply to teach obe­ dience, a statement which surely no one can deny. For who can fail to see that both the Testaments are simply a training for obedience, that each has as its pur­ pose th is alone, that men should sincerely hearken to God? Leaving out of ac­ count the demonstrations of the last chapter, I shall say that Moses' aim was not to convince the Israelites by reasoned argument, but to bind them by a covenant, by oaths and by benefits received; he induced the people to obey the Law under threat of punishment, while exhorting them thereto by promise of rewards. These are all means to promote obedience, not to impart knowledge. The message of the Gospel is one of simple faith; that is, belief in God and reverence for God, or-which is the same thing- obedience to God. So in order to prove what is al­ ready quite plain, there is no need for me to compile a l ist of the Scriptural texts that commend obedience, which are to be found in abundance in both Testa­ ments. Then again, Scripture itself tells us quite clearly over and over aga in what every man should do in order to serve God, declaring that the entire Law consists in this alone, to love one's neighbour. Therefore it is also undeniable that he who by God's commandments loves h is neighbour as h imself is truly obedient and blessed according to the Law, while he who hates or takes no thought for his neigh­ bour is rebellious and disobedient. Finally, there is universal agreement that Scripture was written and disseminated not j ust for the learned but for all men of every time and race, and th is by itself justifies us in concluding that Scriptu re does not require us to believe anything beyond what is necessary for the fulfilling of the said commandment.

Therefore this commandment is the one and only guiding principle for the en­ tire common faith of mankind, and through this commandment alone should be determined all the tenets of faith that every man is in duty bound to accept. Since it is abundantly clear that this is so, and that from this fundamental principle alone all else can legitimately be inferred simply by the process of reason, let everyone consider for himself how it can have come about that so many disputes have arisen in the Church. Can this be due to any other causes than those I have recounted at the beginning of Chapter 7? These, then, are the considerations which now in­ duce me to explain in what manner and by what means necessary the tenets of fa ith are to be derived from the fundamental principle we have discovered. Unless I can achieve this, operating within definite rules, it will rightly be held that I have

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so far accompl ished nothing. For anyone will still be able to foist on rel igion what­ ever doctrine he pleases under th is same pretex� that it is a means for inculcating obedience. This is especially so when it is the divine attributes that are at issue.

For a complete and methodical demonstration, I shall begin with the defini­ tion offaith . According to our fundamental principle, fa ith must be defined as the holding of certa in bel iefs about God such that, without these bel iefs, there can­ not be obedience to God, and if this obedience is posited, these beliefs are nec­ essarily posited. This definition is so clear, and follows so obviously from what has already been proved, that it needs no explanation. I shall now briefly show what consequences it entails. First, fa ith does not bring salvation through itself, but only by reason of obedience; or, as James says (ch. 2 v. 1 7), faith in itself without works is dead. For this point, see the whole of chapter 2 of the Epistle of James. Sec­ ondly, it follows that he who is truly obedient necessarily possesses a true and sav­ ing faith; for, as we have said, obedience being posited, faith is necessarily posited. This is again expressly stated by the same Apostle in chapter 2 v. 1 8, "Show me thy fa ith without thy works, and I will show thee my faith by my works." Likewise John, in I Ep. ch. 4 v. 7, 8, "Everyone that loveth (his neighbour) is born of God and knoweth God. He that loveth not, knoweth not God; for God is love." From these considerations it again follows that only by works can we judge anyone to be a believer or an unbeliever. If his works are good, he is a believer, however much he may differ in rel igious dogma from other believers; whereas if his works are evil, he is an unbel iever, however much he may agree with them verbally. For obedience being posited, faith is necessarily posited, and faith without works is dead. The Apostle John aga in expressly teaches this same doctrine in verse 1 3 of the same chapter. "Hereby," he says, "we know that we dwell in him and he in us, because he hath given us his Spirit." By 'spirif he means love, whence he con­ cludes (that is, from premises he has already accepted) that he who has love truly has the spirit of God. Indeed, since nobody has seen God he concludes therefrom that it is only through love of one's neighbour that one can perceive or be con­ scious of God, and thus no one can discover any other attribute of God except this love, insofar as we participate therein. Even if this argument is not conclusive, it nevertheless shows John's meaning quite clearly; but a far clearer statement is made in chapter 2 v. 3 , 4 of the same Epistle, where he most explicitly teaches what I am here maintaining. "And hereby do we know that we know him, if we keep his commandments. He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not h is com­ mandments, is a l iar, and the truth is not in him." From this we can aga in con­ clude that the true enemies of Christ are those who persecute the righteous and the lovers of justice because these disagree with them and do not uphold the same religious dogmas. Those who love justice and charity we know by that very fact to be the fa ithful, and he who persecutes the fa ithful is an enemy of Christ.

Finally, i t follows that fa ith requires not so much true dogmas as pious dogmas, that is, such as move the heart to obedience; and this is so even if many of those beliefs contain nota shadow oftruth, provided that he who adheres to them knows not that they are false. If he knew that they were false, he would necessarily be a

ChapteT 14 5 1 7

rebel, for how could it be that one who seeks to love justice a n d obey God should worsh ip as divine what he knows to be alien to the divine nature? Yet men may err from simpl icity of mind, and, as we have seen , Scripture condemns only ob­ stinacy, not ignorance. Indeed, this conclusion necessarily follows simply from the definition of fa ith, whose every part must be derived from that universal basic principle already demonstrated, and from the single purpose underlying the whole of Scripture, unless we allow ourselves to put our own arbitrary construc­ tions on it. Now this definition does not expressly demand true dogmatic bel ief, but only such bel iefs as are necessary for obedience, that is, those that strengthen the will to love one's neighbour. It is only through this love, as John says, that every man is in God, and God in every man.

Each man's fa ith, then, is to be regarded as pious or impious not in respect of its truth or falsity, but as it is conducive to obedience or obstinacy. Now nobody questions that there is to be found among men a wide variety of temperament, that all men are not equally in agreement in all matters and are influenced by their beliefs in different ways, so that what moves one man to devotion will move another to ridicule and con tempt Hence it follows that a catholic or un iversal faith must not contain any dogmas that good men may regard as controversial; for such dogmas may be to one man pious, to another impious, since their value lies only in the works they inspire. A catholic faith should therefore contain only those dogmas which obedience to God absolutely demands, and without which such obedience is absolutely impossible. As for other dogmas, every man should em­ brace those that he, being the best judge of himself, feels will do most to strengthen him in love of justice. Acceptance of this principle would, I suggest, leave no occasion for controversy in the Church.

I can now venture to enumerate the dogmas of the universal fa ith, the basic teachings wh ich Scripture as a whole intends to convey. These must all be di­ rected (as evidently follows from what we have demonstrated in these two chap­ ters) to this one end: that there is a Supreme Being who loves justice and charity, whom all must obey in order to be saved, and must worship by practising justice and charity to their neighbour. From this, all the tenets of fa ith can readily be de­ termined, and they are simply as follows:

I . God, that is, a Supreme Being, exists, supremely just and merciful, the exemplar of true life. He who knows not, or does not believe, that God exists, cannot obey him or know him as judge.

2 . God is one alone. No one can doubt that this belief is essential for com­ plete devotion, reverence, that is, love towards God; for devotion, rever­ ence and love spring only from the pre-eminence of one above all others.

3 . God is omnipresen� and all things are open to him. If it were believed that things could be concealed from God, or if it were not realised that he sees everything, one might doubt, or be unaware of the uniformity of the jus­ tice wherewith he directs everyth ing.

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4. God has supreme right and dominion over all things. He is under no juri� diction , but acts by his absolute decree and singular grace. All are required to obey him absolutely, while he obeys none.

5. Worship of God and obedience to him consists solely in justice and char­ ity, or love towards one's neighbour.

6. All who obey God by following this way of l ife, and only those, are saved; others, who l ive at pleasure's behest, are lost. If men did not firmly believe th is, there is no reason why they should obey God rather than their desires.

7. God forgives repentant sinners. There is no one who does not sin, so that without this belief all would despa ir of salvation, and there would be no reason to believe that God is merciful . He who firmly believes that God forgives men's sins from the mercy and grace whereby he directs all things, and whose heart is thereby the more inspired by love of God, that man ver­ ily knows Christ according to the spirit, and Christ is in him.

No one can fail to realise that all these beliefs are essential if all men, without ex­ ception, are to be capable of obeying God as prescribed by the law explained above; for if any one of these beliefs is null ified, obedience is also nullified. But as to the question of what God, the exemplar of true life, really is, whether he is fire, or spirit, or l ight, or thought, or someth ing else, this is irrelevant to faith . And so l ikewise is the question as to why he is the exemplar of true life, whether th is is because he has a just and merciful disposition, or because all th ings exist and act through him and consequently we, too, understand through him, and through him we see what is true, just, and good. On these questions it matters not what bel iefs a man holds. Nor, again, does it matter for faith whether one believes that God is omnipresen t in essence or in potency, whether he directs everything from free will or from the necessity of his nature, whether he lays down laws as a ruler or teaches them as being eternal truths, whether man obeys God from free will or from the necessity of the divine decree, whether the rewarding of the good and the punishing of the wicked is natural or supernatural. The view one takes on these and similar questions has no bearing on fa ith , provided that such a belief does not lead to the assumption of greater licence to sin, or hinders su bmission to God. Indeed, as we have already said, every man is in duty bound to adapt these rel igious dogmas to his own understanding and to interpret them for himself in whatever way makes hirn feel that he can the more readily accept them with full confidence and conviction. For, as we have already pointed out, just as in olden days faith was revealed and written down in a form which accorded with the un­ derstanding and beliefs ofthe prophets and people of that time, so, too, every man has now the duty to adapt it to his own bel iefs, so as thus to accept it without any misgivings or doubts. For we have shown that fa ith demands piety rather than truth; faith is pious and saving only by reason of the obedience it inspires, and con­ sequently nobody is faithful except by reason of his obedience. Therefore the best faith is not necessarily manifested by him who displays the best arguments, but by

Chapt'T H 5 1 9

h im who displays the best works o f justice and charity. How salutary this doctrine is, and how necessary in the state if men are to l ive in peace and harmony, and how many importan t causes of disturbance and crime are thereby aborted at source, 1 leave everyone to judge for himself.

Before proceeding further, it should here be observed that, from what has just been demonstrated, we are now in a position to provide a convincing answer to the difficulties we raised in Chapter I when we were discussing God's speaking to the Israelites from Mount Sinai . Although the voice which the Israelites heard could not have given those men a philosophical or mathematical certainty of God's existence, it sufficed to strike them with awe of God as they had previously known him, and to induce them to obedience, this being the purpose of that man­ ifestation. For God was not seeking to teach the Israelites the absolute attributes of his essence (he revealed none of these things at the time), but to break down their obstinacy and bring them to obedience. Therefore he assailed them, not with arguments, but with the blare of trumpets, with thunder and with l ightnings (see Exodus ch. 20 v. 20).

It now remains for me finally to show that between faith and theology on the one side and philosophy on the other there is no relation and no affinity, a point which must now be apparen t to everyone who knows the aims and bases of these two faculties, which are as far apart as can be. The aim of philosophy is, quite sim­ ply, truth, while the aim of fuith, as we have abundantly shown, is nothing other than obedience and piety. Again, philosophy rests on the basis of universally valid axioms, and must be constructed by studying Nature alone, whereas faith is based on history and language, and must be derived only from Scripture and revelation, as we showed in Chapter 7. So fa ith allows to every man the utmost freedom to philosophise, and he may hold whatever opinions he pleases on any subjects what­ soever without imputation of evil. It condemns as heretics and schismatics only those who teach such bel iefs as promote obstinacy, hatred, strife and anger, while it regards as the fa ithful only those who promote justice and charity to the best of their intellectual powers and capacity.

Finally, since what I have here demonstrated forms the most important part of the subject of this treatise, before proceeding further I do most earnestly beg the reader to be good enough to read these two chapters with careful attention and to reflect on them repeatedly. Let him accept my assurance that my purpose in writ­ ing these chapters has not been to introduce innovations but to correct abuses, such as I hope one day to see corrected.

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CHAPTER 1 5

It is demonstrated that neither is theology ancillary to reason nor reason to theology. The reason why we

are convinced of the authority of Holy Scripture

Those who do not understand the distinction between philosophy and theology argue as to whether Scripture should be ancillary to reason, or reason to Scrip­ ture; that is, whether the meaning of Scripture should be made to conform with reason, or reason with Scripture. The latter view is upheld by the sceptics who deny the certa inty of reason , the former by the dogmatists. But it is clear from our earlier findings that both parties are utterly mistaken , for whichever view we em­ brace we are forced to do violence either to reason or to Scripture. We have demonstrated that Scriptu re teaches only piety, not philosophy, and that all its contents were adapted to the understanding and preconceived beliefs of the com­ mon people. Therefore he who seeks to make Scripture conform with philosophy is sure to ascribe to the prophets many ideas which they never dreamed of, and will quite distort their meaning. On the other hand, he who makes reason and philosophy ancillary to theology has to accept as divinely inspired utterances the prejudices of a common people of long ago, which will ga in a hold on his un­ derstanding and darken it. Thus they will both go wildly astray, the one spurning reason, the other Siding with reason.

The first among the Pharisees who openly main ta ined that Scripture must be made to conform with reason was Maimonides, whose opinion we reviewed in Chapter 7 and refuted on many grounds. Although this writer was held in great esteem by the Pharisees, most of them desert him on this issue, favouring the view of a certa in R. Jehuda Alpakhar, I who, while seeking to avoid the error of Ma i­ monides, fell into the opposite error. He maintained' that reason should be an­ cillary to Scripture, and completely subservient to it. He held that nothing in Scripture requires a metaphorical explanation merely on the grounds that its l i t­ eral meaning is contrary to reason, but only ifit is contrary to Scripture itself, that is, to the clear pronouncements of Scripture. Hence he formulated the un iversal rule that whatever Scripture teaches in dogmatic form and quite expressly affirms must be accepted as absolutely true simply on its own authority. No other dogma in the Bible will be found to be in con tradiction with this directly, but only by im­ plication, and this comes about because the Scriptural style of expression often

I [Jebuda Alpakhar (or 'Alfakar') was an Important thirteenth-century Spamsh JeWISh phYSICian re­ sldmg In Toledo. In the anti-MaimOnidean debates In SpaID he supported the opponents of Mal­ momdes. Spinoza refers to him also In Letter 43. ]

'" I remember once readmg this In a letter 3galDst Malmonides, contamed lD a collection of letters said to belong to Malmomdes

ChapteT 1 5 52 1

appears to assume what is contrary to its express doctrine. Therefore it is only such passages that should be explained metaphorically. For example, Scripture clearly tells us that God is one alone (Deut. ch. 6 v. 4), and nowhere will any passage be found directly asserting that there is more than one God. But there are many pas­ sages where God speaks of himself, and the prophets speak of him, in the plural . This is merely a figure of speech, and does not really intend to indicate that there are in fact a number of Gods. Therefore all such expressions are to be explained metaphorically, not on the grounds that it is contrary to reason that there should be more than one God, but because Scripture itself directly asserts that God is one alone. Similarly, since Scripture directly asserts (according to Alpakhar) in Deuteronomy ch. 4 v. 1 5 that God is incorporeal, it is on the authority of th is passage alone, not of reason , that we must believe that God has no body, and con­ sequently it is on the authority of Scripture alone that we have to give a metaphor­ ical explanation to all those passages that attribute to God hands, feet and so on. I t is only through their figurative mode of expression that they appear to assume that God is corporeal.

Such is the view of Alpakhar. Insofar as he aims to explain Scripture through Scripture, I give him credit, but I am surprised that a man endowed with reason should seek to abolish reason. It is indeed true that, as long as we are simply con­ cemed with the meaning of the text and the prophets' intention, Scripture should be expla ined through Scripture; but having extracted the true meaning, we must necessarily resort to judgment and reason before we can assent thereto. Now if reason, in spite of her protests, is nevertheless to be made completely subservient to Scripture, must th is submission be effected with reason's concurrence, or with­ out it, bl indly? If the latter, then surely we are behaving l ike fools, without judg­ ment. If the former, then it is only at reason's behest that we accept Scripture, which we would therefore not accept if it were repugnant to reason. And again, I ask, who can give men tal acceptance to something aga inst which his reason rebels? For what else is mental denial but reason's rebellion? I am utterly aston­ ished that men can bring themselves to make reason, the greatest of all gifts and a l ight divine, subservient to letters that are dead, and may have been corrupted by human malice; that it should be considered no crime to denigrate the mind, the true handwriting of God's word, declaring it to be corrupt, bl ind and lost, whereas it is considered to be a heinous crime to enterta in such thoughts of the letter, a mere shadow of Go d's word. They think it pious to put no trust in reason and their own judgment, impious to doubt the trustworthiness of those who have transmitted to us the Sacred Books. This is not piety, but mere folly. But what, I ask, is troubl ing them? What are they afraid of'? Is it that rel igion and faith cannot be upheld unless men deliberately cultivate ignorance and completely turn their backs on reason? Such an attitude is surely the mark of fear on Scripture's behalf rather than confidence. But let it never be said that rel igion and piety seek to en­ slave reason, or reason religion , or that either of them is incapable of maintaining its own sovereignty in complete harmony with the other. This is a theme to which I shall soon return, for in the meantime I should l ike first of all to consider R. AI­ pakhar's rule.

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As we have sa id, he holds that we must accept as true or reject as false every­ thing that Scripture affirms or denies, and secondly, that Scripture never expressly affirms or denies anything that contradicts what it elsewhere affirms or denies. The rashness of both these assertions will be apparent to all. I pass by his fa ilure to per­ ceive that Scripture consists of different books written at different times for differ­ ent men by different authors. And there is the further point that these assertions are made on his own authority without any evidence from either reason or Scrip­ ture; for he ought to have shown that those passages that contradict other passages only by impl ication can have a plausible metaphorical explanation based on the nature of language and a consideration of their context; and furthermore that Scripture has come down to us uncorrupted.

But let us examine the question methodically. With regard to his first assertion, I ask whether, if reason protests, we are nevertheless obliged to accept as true or re­ ject as false whatever Scripture affirms or denies. Perhaps he will reply that there is nothing in Scripture which contradicts reason. But I insist that Scripture ex­ pressly affirms and teaches that God is j ealous (in the Decalogue itself and in Exod. ch. 34 v. 14, in Deut ch. 4 v. 24 and in many other places); this is contrary to rea­ son, but must still, by his account, be posited as true. Indeed, if there should be any other passages in Scripture implying that God is not jealous, they would have to be explained metaphorically so that they seem to have no such implication. So, too, Scripture expressly says that God came down to Mount Sinai (Exod. ch. 19 v. 20) and ascribes to him other movements from place to place, nor does it anywhere expressly say that God does not move. So this must be accepted by all as true, and as to Solomon's assertion that God is not contained in any one place (I Kings ch. 8 v. 27), since it does not maintain but merely impl ies that God does not move, it must be so explained as not to deprive God of movement. Similarly, the heavens would have to be taken as the dwelling-place and throne of God, because Scrip­ ture expressly says so. And there are numerous statements of this kind, made in ac­ cordance with the bel iefs of the prophets and the multitude, which only reason and philosophy, not Scripture, tells us are false, and which nevertheless are all to be taken as true in our author's view, there being no appeal to reason.

Next, he is wrong in affirming that one passage does not directly contradict an­ other, but only by impl ication . Moses directly affirms that God is fire (Deut. ch. 4 v. 24) and directly denies that God has any likeness to visible things (Deut. ch. 4 v. 1 2) . If our author replies that the latter statement's denial that God is fire is not direc� but only by impl ication, and must therefore be made to conform with the former statement so as to avoid the appearance of contradiction, come then, let us grant that God is fire. Or better, lest we seem as crazy as he, let us put th is question aside and take another example. Samuel directly denies that God ever repents (I Sam. ch. 1 5 v. 29); on the other hand, Jeremiah asserts that God re­ pents of the good and evil that he may have decreed (Jer. ch. 1 8, v. 8, 1 0) . Well , then, a re no t these teachings directly opposed to each other? So which of the two is he going to explain metaphorically? Each of these assertions is made as uni­ versally valid, and each con tradicts the other; what the one directly affirms, the

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other directly denies. Thus, by his own rule, he is requ ired to accept something as true and at the same time reject i t as false.

Then again, what difference does it make if one passage should contradict an­ other not directly but only by implication, if the impl ication is clear, and if the context and nature of the passage do not permit of a metaphorical in terpretation? There are many such instances in the Bible, as we mentioned in Chapter 2 where we showed that the prophets held diverse and contrary opinions, and there are the particularly glaring contradictions in the historical narratives to which we drew attention in Chapters 9 and 10. There is no need for me here to review them all again, for in my earlier remarks I have said enough to expose the absurdities con­ sequent on the acceptance of this rule, its falsity, and the author's rashness in pro­ posing it.

We may therefore dismiss the views of both Alpakhar and Maimonides, and we may maintain as incontrovertible that neither is theology required to be subordi­ nated to reason nor reason to theology, and that each has its own doma in. The do­ main of reason, as we have said, is truth and wisdom, the domain of theology is piety and obedience. For the power of reason, as we have already demonstrated, does not extend so fur as to enable us to conclude that men can achieve blessed­ ness simply through obedience without understanding, whereas this alone is the message of theology, which commands only obedience and neither seeks nor is able to oppose reason. As we showed in the last chapter, theology defines its reli­ gious dogmas only so far as suffices to secure obedience, and it leaves it to reason to decide exactly how these dogmas are to be understood in respect of truth; for reason is in real ity the l ight of the mind, without which the mind sees nothing but dreams and funtasies.

By theology I here mean, in precise terms, revelation insofar as it manifests Scripture's objective as we have stated it, that is, the way of achieving obedience, or the dogmas of true piety and faith . In other words, by theology I mean the Word of God properly so called, which does not consist in a set number of books (see Chapter 12 ) . Theology thus understood, if you consider its precepts and moral teaching, will be found to agree with reason; and if you look to its purpose and end, it will be found to be in no respect opposed to reason, and is therefore val id for all men.

With regard to Scripture taken in its entirety, we have already shown in Chap­ ter 7 that its meaning is not to be derived from investigation of Nature in gen­ eral- which is the basis of philosophy only- but simply from studying it in itself; and we should not be deterred if, after thus discovering the true meaning of Scrip­ ture, we find that it is at some points opposed to reason. Whatever instances of this kind are to be found in the Bible, or whatever things men may fa il to under­ stand without detriment to their love of their fellow men, we can be sure that these have no bearing on theology or the Word of God, and consequently anyone may hold whatever opinions he pleases on such matters without censure. We may therefore conclude without reservation that neither must Scripture be made to conform with reason, nor reason with Scripture.

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However, since reason cannot demonstrate the truth or falsity of th is funda­ mental principle of theology, that men may be saved simply by obedience, we may also be asked why it is that we believe it If we accept this principle without rea­ son, bl indly, then we too are acting foolishly without judgmen t; if on the other hand we assert that th is fundamental principle can be proved by reason, then the­ ology becomes a part of philosophy, and inseparable from it. To this I reply that I maintain absolutely that this fundamental dogma of theology cannot be investi­ gated by the natural l ight of reason, or at least that nobody has been successful in proving it, and that therefore it was essential that there should be revelation. Nev­ ertheless, we can use judgment before we accept with at least moral certa inty that which has been revealed. I say 'with moral certainty; for we have no grounds for expecting to reach greater certainty in this matter than did the prophets to whom it was originally revealed; and yet their certainty was only of a moral kind, as we have shown in Chapter 2 of th is treatise.

So those who attempt to prove Scripture's authority by demonstrations of a mathematical order go far astray, for the authority of the Bible is dependent on the authority of the prophets, and can thus have no stronger arguments to support it than those by which the prophets of old were wont to convince the people of their authority. Indeed, our own certainty as to this authority can have no other foundation than that on which the prophets based their certainty and authority. Now we have shown that the certainty of the prophets rested entirely on these three factors-firs� a distinct and vivid imagination, second, a sign , third and most important, a heart turned to what is right and good. They based their claims on no other considerations, and so there are no other cons iderations by which their authority could be proved either to the people to whom they once spoke face to face, or to us to whom they speak in writing.

The first of these factors, their vivid imagination, was a personal qual ity con­ fined to the prophets, and therefore our certa inty regarding revelation can rest, and ought to res� entirely on the other two, the sign and the doctrine they taught. And this is what Moses too expressly asserts, for in Deuteronomy ch. 18 he bids the people obey the prophet who should give a true sign in the name of the Lord, but to condemn to death that same man ifhe should prophesy falsely even in the name of the Lord, and l ikewise him who should seek to turn the people away from the true rel igion, even if he were to confirm h is authority by signs and wonders (see Deut. ch. 1 3 ) . Hence it follows that a true prophet can be distinguished from a false prophet by his doctrine and his miracles taken together. For it is such a one that Moses declares to be a true prophet, and bids us trust without fear of deceit; while he condemns as false prophets deserving of death those who make false prophecies even in the name of the Lord, or those who preach false gods, even if they have wrought true miracles.

Therefore we too must accept only th is one reason for believing in Scripture­ that is, in the prophets- namely, their teaching as confirmed by signs. For since we see that the prophets commend above all else justice and charity and have no other objective, we may hence conclude that it was no evil intent but sincere con­ viction that prompted them to teach that men may ach ieve blessedness by obedi-

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ence and faith. And because they furthermore confirmed this teaching with signs, we are convinced that they were not speaking at random nor were they out of their senses while prophesying. Th is conclusion is further corroborated when we re­ alise that all their moral teaching is in full agreement with reason, for it is no ac­ cident that the Word of God proclaimed by the prophets agrees in all respects with the Word of God that speaks in our hearts. The Bible, I say, conveys to us th is cer­ ta inty just as well as did the l iving voice of the prophets to the Jews of old. For we showed towards the end of Chapter 12 that Scripture has come down to us un­ corrupted in respect of its doctrine and its chief historical narratives.

Therefore, although this fundamental principle underlying all theology and Scripture cannot be demonstrated with mathematical exactitude, we may yet accept it without our judgment being called into question. It would be folly to refuse to accept, merely on the grounds that it cannot be proved with mathe­ matical certainty, that which is abundantly confirmed by the testimony of so many prophets, that which is the source of so much comfort to those less gifted with in­ telligence, and of considerable advantage to the state, and which we can believe without incurring any peril or hurt. Could we l ive our lives wisely if we were to accept as true nothing that could conceivably be called into doubt on any prin­ ciple of scepticism? Are not most of our actions in any case fraught with uncer­ ta inty and hazard?

I do indeed admit that those who think that philosophy and theology are mu­ tually contradictory and that therefore one or the other must be deprived of its sov­ ereignty and set aside, have good reason for seeking to put theology on a sol id foundation and for attempting to prove it with mathematical accuracy. Who but a desperate madman would be so rash as to turn his back on reason, or to hold the arts and sciences in contempt, while denying the certainty of reason? Even so, we cannot entirely absolve them from censure, in that they seek the help of reason in the task of repelling reason, and they try to employ the certa inty of reason to disparage reason's certainty. While they are aiming to prove the truth and au­ thority of theology by mathematical demonstrations and to deprive reason and the natural l igh t of its authority, they are simply drawing theology into the domain of reason, and are quite clearly implying that her authority has no brill iance unless it is illuminated by the natural l ight of reason.

If on the other hand they boast that their own assurance rests entirely on the inward testimony of the Holy Spirit and that they invoke the aid of reason solely for the purpose of convincing unbel ievers, we should still give no credit to their words, for we can now readily prove that they are prompted to say this either from emotional bias or from vainglory. From the preceding chapter it qu ite clearly fol­ lows that the testimony of the Holy Spirit is concerned only with good works­ which therefore Paul, too, in his Epistle to the Galatians ch. 5 v. 22 calls 'the fruits of the Holy Spirit' -and that the Holy Spirit itself is noth ing other than the peace of mind that results from good actions. As for the truth and certa inty of those ques­ tions which are the subject only of speculative philosophy, no spirit bears testi­ mony other than reason, which alone, as we have shown , has asserted its claim to the realm of truth . So if they contend that they possess some other spirit that gives

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them certa inty of truth, th is is an idle boast; they speak from emotional bias; or else, through dread of being worsted by ph ilosophers and exposed to public ridicule, they seek refuge in the sacred_ But all in vain; for what altar can he find to shelter him, who is gu ilty of betraying reason?

But I will say no more of these men, since ] th ink ] have satisfactorily made my case by demonstrating on what grounds philosophy must be distinguished from theology, what is the essential nature of each, and that neither of them is subor­ dinate to the other, each of them holding its own domain without contradicting the otheL Finally, as opportunity arose, ] have also shown the absurdities, the dam­ age and the harm that have resulted from the fact that men have thoroughly con­ fused these two faculties, fa iling to make an accurate distinction between them and to separate the one from the other.

Before ] continue, ] wish to emphasise in express terms- though ] have said it before- the importance and necessity of the role that I assign to Scripture, or rev­ elation . For since we cannot perceive by the natural l ight that simple obedience is a way to salvation, ' and since only revelation teaches us that this comes about by God's singular grace which we cannot attain by reason, it follows that Scrip­ ture has brought very great comfort to mankind. For all men without exception are capable of obedience, while there are only a few- in proportion to the whole of humanity-who acquire a virtuous disposition under the guidance of reason alone. Thus, did we not have this testimony of Scripture, the salvation of nearly all men would be in doubt.

CHAPTER 1 6

The basis of the state; the natural and civil right of the individual, and the right of sovereign powers

Up to this point our object has been to separate philosophy from theology and to show that the latter allows freedom to philosophise for every individual. It is there­ fore time to enquire what are the l imits of this freedom of thought, and of saying what one thinks, in a well-conducted state. To approach this question in an or­ derly way, we must discuss the basis of the state, and prior to that, before giving any consideration to the state and to rel igion , we must discuss the natural right of the individual . I

By the right and established order of Nature I mean s imply the rules govern­ ing the nature of every individual thing, according to which we conceive it as naturally determined to exist and to act in a definite way. For example, fish are

• See Supplementary Note 3 1 .

I [Throughout thiS chapter there are echoes o f the polItical phtlosophy o f Thomas Hobbes, whose treatise De Give (On the CItizen) Spmoza had read.]

ChapteT 16 527

determined by nature to swim, and the big ones to eat the smaller ones. Thus it is by sovereign natural right that fish inhabitwater, and the big ones eat the smaller ones. For it is certain that Nature, taken in the absolute sense, has the sovereign right to do all that she can do; that is, Nature's right is co-extensive with her power. For Nature's power is the very power of God, who has sovereign right over all things.2 But since the universal power of Nature as a whole is nothing but the power of all individual things taken together.' it follows that each individual th ing has the sovereign right to do all that it can do; i .e. the r ight of the individual is co­ extensive with its determinate power.

Now since it is the supreme law of Nature that each thing endeavours to per­ sist in its present being, as fur as in it l ies, taking account of no other th ing but it­ self" it follows that each individual has the sovereign right to do this, that is (as I have said), to exist and to act as it is naturally determined. And here I do not ac­ knowledge any distinction between men and other individuals of Nature, nor be­ tween men endowed with reason and others to whom true reason is unknown , nor between fools, madmen and the sane. Whatever an individual th ing does by the laws of its own nature, it does with sovereign right, inasmuch as it acts as de­ termined by Nature, and can do no other. Therefore among men, as long as they are considered as living under the rule of Nature alone, he who is not yet ac­ qua inted with reason or has not yet acquired a virtuous disposition lives under the sole con trol of appetite with as much sovereign right as he who conducts h is l ife under the rule of reason. That is to say, justas the wise man has the sovereign right to do all that reason dictates, i.e. to l ive according to the laws of reason , so, too, a man who is ignorant and weak-willed has the sovereign right to do all that is urged on him by appetite, i.e. to l ive according to the laws of appetite. This is the same doctrine as that of Paul, who declares that prior to the law-that is, as long as men are considered as living under Nature's rule- there can be no sin.

Thus the natural righ t of every man is determined not by sound reason, but by his desire and h is power. For not all men are naturally determined to act in ac­ cordance with the rules and laws of reason. On the contrary, all men are born in a state of complete ignorance, and before they can learn the true way of l ife and acquire a virtuous disposition, even if they have been well brought up, a great part of their l ife has gone by. Yet in the meantime they have to live and preserve them­ selves as far as in them l ies, namely, by the urging of appetite alone, for Nature has given them nothing else and has denied them the actual ised power to l ive ac­ cording to sound reason. Therefore they are no more in duty bound to l ive ac­ cording to the laws of a sound mind than a cat to l ive according to the laws of a lion's nature. Thus whatever every man, when he is considered as solely under the dominion of Nature, believes to be to his advantage, whether under the gu id­ ance of sound reason or under passion's sway, he may by sovereign natural right

z [Ethi .. , 1 . 17, Scholium 34--3 5 . 1

3 [Ethics, 2 1 3 , Lemma 7, Scholium, Letter 32.]

4 [Ethics, 3 6-7 1

528 Theological-Political Treatise

seek and get for himself by any means, by force, deceit, entreaty or in any other way he best can, and he may consequently regard as his enemy anyone who tries to hinder him from getting what he wants_

From this it follows that Nature's right and her established order, under which all men are born and for the most part l ive, forbids only those th ings that no one desires and no one can do; it does not frown on strife, or hatred, or anger, or de­ ceit, or on anything at all urged by appetite. This is not surprising, for Nature's bounds are not set by the laws of human reason which aim only at man's true in­ terest and his preservation , but by infinite other laws which have regard to the eternal order of the whole of Nature, of which man is but a particle. I t is from the necessity of this order alone that all individual th ings are determined to exist and to act in a definite way. So when something in Nature appears to us as ridicu­ lous, absurd or evil, this is due to the fact that our knowledge is only partial, that we are largely ignorant of the order and coherence of the whole of Nature and want all things to be arranged to suit our reason. Yet that which our reason de­ clares to be evil is not evil in respect of the order and laws of universal Nature, but only in respect of the laws of our own nature_

However, there cannot be any doubt as to how much more it is to men's ad­ vantage to l ive in accordance with the laws and sure dictates of our reason, wh ich , as we have said, aim only at the true good of men. 5 Furthermore, there is nobody who does not desire to l ive in safety free from fear, as far as is possible. But this cannot come about as long as every individual is permitted to do just as he pleases, and reason can claim no more right than hatred and anger. For there is no one whose l ife is free from anxiety in the midst of feuds, hatred, anger and deceit, and who will not therefore try to avoid these as far as in him l ies. And if we also reflect that the l ife of men without mutual assistance must necessarily be most wretched and must lack the cultivation of reason, as we showed in Chapter 5, it will become quite clear to us tha� in order to achieve a secure and good l ife, men had neces­ sarily to unite in one body_ They therefore arranged that the unrestricted right nat­ urally possessed by each individual should be put into common ownership, and that this right should no longer be determined by the strength and appetite of the individual , but by the power and will of all together. Yet in this they would have failed, had appetite been their only gUide (for by the laws of appetite all men are drawn in different directions), and so they had to bind themselves by the most stringent pledges to be guided in all matters only by the dictates of reason (which nobody ventures openly to oppose, lest he should appear to be without capacity to reason) and to keep appetite in check insofar as it tends to another's hurt, to do to no one what they would not want done to themselves, and to uphold another's right as they would their own_

At this point we must cons ider how this covenant is to be made so as to ensure its stability and validity_ Now it is a universal law of human nature that nobody re­ jects what he judges to be good except through hope of a greater good or fear of

5 [Ethics, 4 .18, Schohum 35 , 37, Schohum 2 J

ChapteT 16 529

greater loss, and that no one endures any evil except to avoid a greater evil or to ga in a greater good. That is to say, everyone will choose of two goods that which he judges the greater, and of two evils that which seems to him the lesser. I say ex­ pressly 'that which in h is belief is the greater or lesser'; I do not say that the facts necessarily correspond with his judgment. This law is so deeply inscribed in hu­ man nature that it should be counted among the eternal truths universally known. Now from this law it necessarily follows that nobody is going to promise in all good faith' to give up his unrestricted right, and in general nobody is going to keep any promises whatsoever, except through fear of a greater evil or hope of a greater good. To make the point more clearly understood, suppose that a robber forces me to promise to give him my goods at his pleasure. Now since, as I have already shown , my natural right is determined by power alone, it is qu ite clear that if! can free myself from this robber by deceit, promising him whatever he wants, I have the natural right to do so, that is, to pretend to agree to whatever he wants. Or sup­ pose that in all good faith I have promised somebody that I will not taste food or any other nourishment for twenty days, and that I later realised that I had made a foolish promise which could be kept only with considerable hurt to myself Since by natural right I am bound to choose the lesser of two evils, I have the sovereign right to break fa ith and go back on my pledged word. Now this, I say, is justified by natural right, whether it was true and infallible reasoning or whether it was fal­ l ible bel ief that made me real ise I was wrong to have made the promise. For whether my conviction is true or false, I shall be in fear of a terrible evil , one which therefore, by Nature's law, I shall do everything to avoid.

We may thus conclude that the validity of an agreement rests on its utility, with­ out which the agreement automatically becomes null and void. It is therefore folly to demand from another that he should keep his word for ever, if at the same time one does not try to ensure that, ifhe breaks his word, he will meet with more harm than good. This point is particularly relevant in considering the constitution of a state. Now if all men could be readily induced to be guided by reason alone and to recognise the supreme advantage and the necessity of the state's existence, everyone would entirely forswear deceit. In their desire for this h ighest good, the preservation of the state, all men would in absolute good faith abide entirely by their agreement, and would regard it as the most important thing in the world to keep their word, this being the strongest shield of the state. But it is by no means the case that all men can always be readily induced to be guided by reason; for each is drawn by h is own pleasure,6 and the mind is frequently so beset by greed, ambition, envy, anger and the l ike that no room is left for reason. Therefore al­ though men may make promises with every mark of sincerity, and pledge them­ selves to keep their word, nobody can rely on another's good faith unless the promise is backed by something else; for everyone has the natu ral right to act de­ ceitfully and is not bound to keep his engagements except through hope of greater

'" See Supplemental}' Note 32. 6 [A quotation adapted from Vergil, Eclogues, 1 1 , 65 , "trahit sua quemque voluptas "-S S 1

530 Theological-Political Treatise

good or fear of greater evil. However, since we have already demonstrated that everyone's natural right is determined by his power alone, it follows that to the ex­ tent that each transfers h is power to another, whether by force or volun tarily, to that extent he also necessarily surrenders h is right to him, and the sovereign righ t over all men is held by him who holds the supreme power whereby he can com­ pel all by force and coerce them by threat of the supreme penalty, universally feared by all. This right he will reta in only as long as he has th is power of carry­ ing into execution whatever he wills; otherwise his rule will be precarious, and nobody who is stronger than he will need to obey him unless he so wishes.

Therefore, without any infringement of natural right, a community can be formed and a con tract be always preserved in its en tirety in absolute good faith on these terms, that everyone transfers all the power that he possesses to the com­ munity, which will therefore alone reta in the sovereign natural righ t over every­ thing, that is, the supreme rule which everyone will have to obey either of free choice or through fear of the ultimate penalty. Such a community's right is called a democracy, which can therefore be defined as a united body of men which corporately possesses sovereign right over everyth ing within its power. Hence it follows that the sovereign power is bound by no law, and all must obey it in all matters; for th is is what all must have covenanted tacitly or expressly when they transferred to it all their power of self-defence, that is, all their right. If they in­ tended that there should be anything reserved to themselves, they should have taken the precaution at the same time to make secure provision to uphold it. Since they did not do so, and could not have done so without the division and consequent destruction of the state, they thereby submitted themselves absolutely to the will of the sovereign power. S ince they did this without reservation and (as we have shown) by force of necessity and by the persuasion of reason itself, it fol­ lows that, unless we wish to be enemies of the state and to act against reason which urges us to uphold the state with all our might, it is our duty to carry out all the orders of the sovereign power without exception, even if those orders are quite irrational. For reason bids us carry out even such orders, so as to choose the lesser of two evils.

Furthermore, the danger involved in submitting oneself absolutely to the com­ mand and will of another was not such as to cause grave misgivings. As we have shown, sovereign powers possess the right of commanding whatever they will only for as long as they do in fact hold supreme power. If they lose th is power, with it they also lose the right of complete command, which passes to one man or a num­ ber of men who have acquired it and are able to retain it. Therefore it is exceed­ ingly rare for governments to issue quite unreasonable commands; in their own interest and to reta in their rule, it especially behoves them to look to the public good and to conduct all affairs under the gUidance of reason. For, as Seneca says, 'violenta imperia nemo continuit diu' - tyrannical governments never last long_ There is the further fact that in a democracy there is less danger of a government behaving unreasonably, for it is practically impossible for the majority of a single assembly, if it i s of some size, to agree on the same piece of folly. Then again, as we have also shown , it i s the fundamental purpose of democracy to avoid the fol-

ChapteT 16 5 3 1

l ies o f appetite and t o keep men within the bounds o f reason, a s far a s possible, so that they may l ive in peace and harmony. If this basic principle is removed, the whole fabric soon collapses. It is for the sovereign power alone, then, to have re­ gard to these considerations, while it is for the subjects, as I have said, to carry out its orders and to acknowledge no other right bu t that which the sovereign power declares to be a righ t

Now perhaps it will be thought that in this way we are turning subjects into slaves, the slave being one who acts under orders and the free man one who does as he pleases. But this is not completely true, for the real slave is one who lives un­ der pleasure's sway and can neither see nor do what is for his own good, and only he is free who lives whole-heartedly under the sole guidance of reason? Action under orders- that is, obedience- is indeed to some extent an infringement of freedom, but it does not automatically make a man a slave; the reason for the ac­ tion must enter into account If the purpose of the action is not to the advantage of the doer but of him who commands, then the doer is a slave, and does not serve his own interest. But in a sovereign state where the welfare of the whole people, not the ruler, is the supreme law, he who obeys the sovereign power in all things should be called a subject, not a slave who does not serve his own interest. And so that commonwealth whose laws are based on sound reason is the most free, for there everybody can be free as he wills: that is, he can l ive whole-heartedly un­ der the guidance of reason. Similarly, although children are in duty bound to obey all the commands of their parents, they are not slaves; for the parents' commands have as their chief aim the good of the children. We therefore recognise a great difference between a slave, a son, and a subject, who accordingly may be defined as follows. A slave is one who has to obey his master's commands which look only to the interests of him who commands; a son is one who by his father's command does what is to h is own good; a subject is one who, by command of the sovereign power, acts for the common good, and therefore for h is own good also.

I th ink I have thus demonstrated quite clearly the basis of the democratic state, which I have elected to discuss before all others because it seemed the most natu­ ral form of state, approaching most closely to that freedom which nature grants to every man. For in a democratic state nobody transfers h is natural right to another so completely that thereafter he is not to be consulted; he transfers it to the ma­ jority of the entire community ofwh ich he is part. In this way all men remain equal , as they were before in a state of nature. And there is this further reason why I have chosen to discuss at some length only this form of state: thereby my main purpose is best served, which is to discuss the benefits of freedom in a commonwealth. I therefore omit the discussion of the basic principles of other forms of government. To understand their right we do not now need to know how they have arisen , and frequently continue to arise, for this has been made abundantly clear from what

7 [Parts 4 and 5 of the Ethics are concerned WIth the main topics of Spinoza's philosophy. human bondage and human freedom. J

'" See Supplementary Note 3 3

532 Theological·Political Treatise

we have already proved. Whoever holds sovereign power, be it vested in one per­ son or a few persons or in all the people, it is quite clear that to him belongs the sovereign right of commanding what he wilL Furthermore, whoever transfers to another his power of self-defence, whether voluntarily or under compulsion, has fully ceded his natural right and has consequently resolved to obey the other ab­ solutely in all matters; and this he is obliged to do without reservation, as long as the king, or the nobles, or the people reta in the sovereign power they have received, which was the basis for the transference of right. I need say no more.

Now that we have demonstrated the basis and right of the state, we can easily determine what is a citizen's civil right, what is a wrong, and what is j ustice and injustice in a state; and then what is an ally, what is an enemy, and what is trea­ son. By a citizen's civil right we can only mean the freedom of every man to pre­ serve himself in his present condition, a freedom determined by the edicts of the sovereign power and upheld by its authority alone. For when the individual has transferred to another the right to l ive as he pleases, a right which is l imited only by his power - in other words, when he has transferred to another his freedom and power of self-defence-he is then bound to l ive entirely as the other directs and to trust in him entirely for his defence.

A wrong occurs when a citizen or subject is forced to suffer some in jury at the hands of another, contrary to his civil right, i.e. con trary to the edict of the sover­ eign power. For a wrong cannot be conceived except in a civil condition, nor yet can a wrong be done to subjects by sovereign powers, whose right is not l imited. Therefore it can occur only as between private citizens, who are bound by law not to injure one another.

Justice is a set disposition to render to every man what is his by civil right. In­ justice is to deprive a man, under the guise oflegality, of what belongs to him by true interpretation of the law. These are also called equity and inequ ity, because those appointed to judge lawsuits are required to hold all men as equal without respect to persons, and to uphold equally everyone's right, neither envying the rich nor despising the poor.

All ies are the men of two states who, to avoid being exposed to the hazards of war or to gain some other advantage, pledge themselves to absta in from mutual aggresSion and to afford each other aid when occasion demands, each state still reta ining its independence. This contract will remain in force for as longas its ba­ sis- namely, the consideration of danger or advantage- persists; for nobody makes a contract, or is bound to abide by an agreement, except through hope of some good or apprehension of some eviL If the basis is removed, the agreement becomes void of itself, a fact abundantly illustrated by experience. For although two different states may make a treaty of mutual non-aggression, they nevertheless try as far as they can to prevent the other from becoming too powerful, and they place their trust in words only if they are well assured of the purpose and interest of each party in making the treaty. Without th is assurance they fear a breach of fai th, and rightly so. For who but a fool who knows nothing of the right of sover­ eign powers will rest content with the words and promises of someone who main­ ta ins the sovereign power and right to do whatever he pleases, one for whom the

ChapteT 16 533

welfare and advantage of h is own state must be h is supreme law? And even if piety and rel igion are taken into account, we shall still see that no one who holds the reins of government can , without doing wrong, abide by h is promises to the harm of his country. For he cannot keep whatever promise he sees l ikely to be detri­ mental to h is country without violating h is pledge to his subjects, a pledge by which he is most firmly bound, and whose fulfilment usually involves the most solemn promises.

An enemy is one who lives outside the state on such terms that neither as an ally nor as a subject does he recognise its sovereignty. For it is not hatred but the state's right that makes a man an enemy; and the state's right against one who does not recognise its sovereignty by any kind of treaty is the same as its right aga inst one who has done it an in jury, for it can rightly compel h im either to submit or to enter into alliance, by any means.

Treason appl ies only in the case of subjects or citizens who by agreement, whether implicit or expl icit, have transferred all their right to the state. A subject is sa id to have committed this crime ifhe has attempted for any reason to seize for h imself the sovereign power's right or to transfer it to another. I say 'if he has at­ tempted; for if men were to be condemned only after the deed was done, in most cases it would be too late for the state to try to do this after the seizure of its right or its transference to another. Again, I say without qualification 'he who for any rea­ son attempts to seize for himself the sovereign power's right; thus making no dis­ tinction between cases where either injury or ga in to the entire state would have unquestionably resulted. Whatever be the reason for the attempt, he is guilty of treason and is rightly condemned. In war, indeed, there is complete agreement that this is fully justified. If a man leaves his post and approaches the enemy with­ out his commander's knowledge, even though he has ventured on this action with good intention-but nevertheless his own -and has overcome the enemy, he is rightly condemned to death because he has violated his oath and the commander's right. Now it is not universally realised quite so clearly that all citizens without ex­ ception are always bound by this righ� yet the point at issue is exactly the same. For since the state must be preserved and governed solely by the policy of the sov­ ereign power and it is covenanted that this right belongs absolutely to it alone, if anyone embarks on some undertaking of publ ic concern on his own initiative and without the knowledge of the supreme council, he has violated the right of the sov­ ereign power and is guilty of treason and is rightly and properly condemned, even if, as we have said, the state was sure to gain some advantage from his action.

To remove the last shadow of dou bt, it remains for us now to deal with the fol­ lowing objection. Is not our earlier assertion, that everyone who is without the use of reason has the sovereign natural right in a state of nature to l ive by the laws of appetite, in clear contradiction with the divine law as revealed? For since all men without exception, whether or not they have the use of reason, are equally re­ quired by God's command to love their neighbour as themselves, we canno� with­ out doing wrong, infl ict injury on another and l ive solely by the laws of appetite.

However, we can easily answer this objection if we confine our attention to the state of nature only, for th is is prior to rel igion in nature and in time. For nobody

534 Theological-Political Treatise

knows by nature' that he has any duty to obey God. Indeed, this knowledge can­ not be attained by any process of reasoning; one can ga in it only by revelation con­ firmed by signs. Therefore prior to revelation nobody can be bound by a divine law of which he cannot be aware. So a state of natu re must not be confused with a state of rel igion; we must conceive it as being without rel igion and without law, and consequently without sin and without wrong, as we have in fact done, quot­ ing Paul in confirmation . And it is not only in respect of men's ignorance that we conceive the state of nature as prior to, and lacking, the revelation of God's law, but also in respect of that freedom with which all men are born. For if men were by nature bound by the divine law, or if the divine law were a law by nature, there would have been no need for God to enter into a con tract with men and to bind them by covenant and by oath. Therefore we must concede withou t qualification that the divine law began from the time when men by express covenant promised to obey God in all th ings, thereby surrendering, as it were, their natural freedom and transferring their right to God in the manner we described in speaking of the civil state. But I shall later treat of these matters at greater length.

But we still have to meet the objection that sovereign powers are no less bound by this divine law than are their subjects, whereas we have sa id that they reta in their natural right and are not restricted in their right. In order to dispose com­ pletely of this difficulty, which originates from consideration of natural right rather than the state of nature, I assert that in a state of nature everyone is bound to l ive by the revealed law from the same motive as he is bound to l ive according to the dictates of sound reason, namely, that to do so is to his greater advantage and necessary for his salvation. He may refuse to do so, but at h is own peril. He is thus bound to l ive according as he himself wills, and no other, and to acknowl­ edge no man as judge or as rightful arbitrator over religion. This is the right, I say, that has been reta ined by the sovereign, who can indeed consult others but is not bound to acknowledge anyone as judge or any person but himself as claiming any right, except a prophet expressly sent by God and proving his mission by indis­ putable signs. Yet not even then is he forced to acknowledge a human judge, but only God himself. And if the sovereign power refuses to obey God as revealed in his Law, he may do so to his own peril and hurt without any violation of right, civil or natural . For civil right depends only on his decree, while natu ral right depends on the laws of Nature, which are adapted not to rel igion (whose sole aim is the good of man) but to the order of Nature as a whole, that is, to God's eternal de­ cree, which is beyond our knowledge. This truth seems to have been glimpsed by those who maintain that man can sin against the revealed will of God, but not against the eternal decree by which he has pre-ordained all things.

We may now be asked, "What if the sovereign's command contravenes reli­ gion and the obedience we have promised to God by express covenant? Should we obey the divine command or human command?" As I shall later be deal ing with this question in more deta il, I shall here make only th is brief reply: we must

'" See Supplementary Note 34

ChapteT 16 5 3 5

obey God before all th ings when we have a sure and indubitable revelation. But in matters of rel igion men are especially prone to go astray and contentiously ad­ vance many ideas of their own devising, as is abundantly testified by experience. I t is therefore quite clear that, if nobody were bound by right to obey the sover­ eign power in those matters which he thinks to perta in to rel igion, the state's right would then inevitably depend on judgments and feel ings that vary with each in­ dividual . For nobody would be bound by it if he considered it to be contrary to his own faith and superstitious bel ief, and so on this pretext everyone could as­ sume unrestricted freedom to do as he pleases. Now since the r ight of the state is in th is way utterly destroyed, it follows that it belongs completely to the sover­ eign power, on whom alone both divine and natural right impose the duty of pre­ serving and safeguarding the laws of the state, to make what decisions it th inks fit concerning rel igion, and all are bound by their pledged word, which God bids them keep inviolate, to obey the sovereign power's decrees and commands in th is matter.8

But if those at the head of government are heathens, we must either make no con tract with them, resolving to suffer anything rather than to transfer our right to them; or, if we have made a contract transferring our right to them and thereby deprived ourselves ofthe right to defend ourselves and our rel igion, we are bound, or may be compelled, to obey them and keep our pledge. An exception is made in the case of one to whom God, by sure revelation, has promised his special help against the tyrant, or has given specific exemption. Thus we see that three young men alone out of all the Jews in Babylon refused to obey Nebuchadnezzar, being assured of God's help. All the rest-with the exception of Daniel also, whom the king had worshipped-no doubt obeyed, being compelled by right, perhaps with the thought that they were given into the king's hands by God's decree, and that it was by God's design that the king held and preserved his supreme dominion. On the other hand Eleazar9 wh ile h is country still stood, resolved to give h is people an example of steadfastness, so that by following him they would be encouraged to endure anything rather than allow their right and power to be trans­ ferred to the Greeks, and would go to any lengths to avoid having to swear alle­ giance to heathens.

What I have said is confirmed by common experience. In the interests of greater security the rulers of Christian countries do not hesitate to make treaties with Turks and heathens, and to order those of their subjects who go to dwell with them not to assume more freedom in secular and religious matters than is specified in the treaty or is granted by the government concerned. This is clear from the treaty made by the Dutch with the Japanese, of which I have already made mention .

8 [Spmoza will qualify somewhat thiS thesiS In Chapter 20.] 9 [Spmoza IS refernng here to Eleazar, a brother of Judah Maccabee, whose family, the Hasmoneans,

revolted agamst the Greek king of Syria and Mesopotarrua, Antiochus ("Eplphanes") IV in 166 S.C Although the ISJ2ehtes were victonous, Eleazar was killed ID battle. Accordmg to Josephus, he at­ tacked an elephant on which he believed Antlochus was seated, and died when It fell upon him (Josephus, Th. War>, 1.1 5 ; ,.wish Antiqui6es, 1 2.6 1 , 1 2 9 5) J

536 Theological-Political Treatise

CHAPTER 1 7

It is demonstrated that nobody can, or need, transfer all his rights to the sovereign power. An account of the Hebrew state as it was in the time of Moses, and after his death before the institution of monarchy, and its success. Finally, the reasons why it came about that

the theocratic state fell, and could scarcely have continued without civil strife

The picture presented in the last chapter of the overriding right of sovereign pow­ ers and the transference to them of the individual's natural right, though it comes quite close to actual practice and can increasingly be realised in reality, must nev­ ertheless remain in many respects no more than theory. Nobody can so com­ pletely transfer to another all h is right, and consequently h is power, as to cease to be a human being, nor will there ever be a sovereign power that can do all it pleases. It would be vain to command a subject to hate one to whom he is in­ debted for some service, to love one who has done him harm, to refra in from tak­ ing offence at insults, from wanting to be free of fear, or from numerous similar things that necessarily follow from the laws of human nature. This is shown I think, quite clearly by actual experience; for men have never transferred their right and surrendered their power to another so completely that they were not feared by those very persons who received their right and power, and that the gov­ ernment has not been in greater danger from its citizens, though deprived of their right, than from its external enemies. If men could in fact be so completely de­ prived of their natural right as thereafter to be powerless' to do anyth ing except by the will of those who hold the supreme right, then indeed the subjects of the most violent tyranny would be without resource, a condition which I imagine no one can possibly envisage. It must therefore be granted that the individual reserves to h imself a considerable part of his right, which therefore depends on nobody's decision but h is own.

However, for a proper understanding of the extent of the government's right and power, it should be observed that the government's power is not strictly con­ fined to its power of coercion by fear, but rests on all the possible means by which i t can induce men to obey its commands. It is not the motive for obedience, but the fact of obedience, that constitutes a subject. Whatever be the motives that prompt a man to carry out the commands of the sovereign power, whether it be fear of pun ishment, hope of reward, love of country or any other emotion , while it is he who makes the decision, he is nevertheless acting under the control of the

'" See Supplementary Note 3 5

ChapteT 17 537

sovereign power. From the fact, then, that a man acts from his own decision, we should not forthwith conclude that h is action proceeds from his own right, and not from the right of the governmen t. For whether a man is urged by love or driven by fear of a threatened evil, since in both cases his action always proceeds from his own intention and decision, either there can be no such th ing as sovereignty and right over subjects or else it must include all the means that contribute to men's willingness to obey. Consequently, whenever a subject acts in accordance with the commands of the sovereign power, whether he is motivated by love, or fear, or (and this is more frequently the case) a mixture of hope and fear, or by rev­ erence-which is an emotion compounded of fear and awe-or whatever be h is motive, he acts from the ruler's right, not from h is own.

This point is again clearly established from the fact that obedience is not so much a matter of outward act as internal act of mind. Therefore he who whole­ heartedly resolves to obey another in all his commands is fully under another's dominion, and consequently he who reigns over h is subjects' minds holds the most powerful dominion. If the strongest dominion were held by those who are most feared, then it would assuredly be held by tyrants' subjects, for they are most feared by their tyrants. Then again, although command cannot be exercised over minds in the same way as over tongues, yet minds are to some degree under the control of the sovereign power, who has many means of inducing the great major­ ity to believe, love, hate etc. whatever he wills. Thus, although it is not by direct command of the sovereign power that these results are produced, yet experience abundantly testifies they often proceed from the authoritative nature of his power and from his guidance, that is, from his right. Therefore there is no absurdity in conceiving men whose beliefs, love, hatred, contempt and every single emotion is under the sole control of the governing power.

But although the right and power of government, when conceived in this way, are quite extensive, there can never be any government so mighty that those in command would have unlimited power to do anything they wish. Th is, I think, I have already clearly shown . As to the question of how, in spite of this, a state can be formed so as to ach ieve constant stabil ity, I have already said that it is not my intention to discuss th is. Still, in pursuing my theme, I shall draw attention to the means of achieving this end which Moses of old learned from divine revelation; then we shall consider the course taken by the history of the Jews, from which we shall eventually see what exactly are the most important concessions that sover­ eign powers should make to their subjects to ensure the greater security and pros­ perity of the state.

Reason and experience tell us quite clearly that the preservation of the state depends mainly on the subjects' loyalty and virtue and their steadfastness in car­ rying out orders, but the means whereby they should be induced to persevere in their loyalty and virtue are not so readily apparent. For all, both rulers and ruled, are but men, and as such prone to forsake duty for pleasure. ! Indeed, those who

I [A quotation from Terence, Andria, 77-78, "a lahore proclll'eS ad libidenem."-S.S . ]

538 Theological-Political Treatise

have experienced the fickleness of the masses are almost reduced to despair; for the masses are governed solely by their emotions, not by reason; they rush wildly into everything, and are readily corrupted either by avarice or by luxurious l iving_ Every single man thinks he knows everything, and wants to fashion the world to his l iking; he considers things to be fair or unfair, right or wrong, according as he judges them to be to his profit or loss. Vanity makes him despise his equals, nor will he be guided by them_ Through envy of superior fame or fortune-which is never equal for all men -he desires another's misfortune and takes pleasure therein . There is no need for me to go through the whole catalogue, for everyone knows to what wickedness men are frequently persuaded by dissatisfaction with their lot and desire for change, by hasty anger, by disda in of poverty, and how their minds are engrossed and agitated by these emotions.

To guard against all these dangers, to organise a state in such a way as leaves no place for wrongdoing, or better still, to frame such a constitution that every man, whatever be h is character, will set public right before private advantage, th is is the task, this the toiJ .2 The need to find a solution has driven men to devise many expedients, yet the position has never been attained where the state was not in greater danger from its citizens than from the external enemy, and where its rulers were not in greater fear of the former than the latter. Let Rome be witness, unconquerable by her enemies, yet so often conquered and wretchedly oppressed by her own citizens, and particularly in the civil war between Vespasian and Vitel­ l ius. (See Tacitus' Histories, at the beginning of Book 4, where he describes the sad plight of the city.) Alexander, as Curtius says towards the end of Book 8, thought it a less exacting task to maintain prestige abroad than at home, believ­ ing that h is greatness might be destroyed by his own people. Fearing such a fate for himself, he besought his friends with these words: "Do you but keep me safe from in ternal treachery and domestic plots; I will fearlessly face the hazards of war and fighting. Philip was safer in battle than in the theatre. He often emerged un­ scathed from the enemy's violence: he could not escape from that of h is own people. And if you reflect on the deaths of other kings, you will find more who died at the hands of their own people than at the hands of the enemy_" See Q_ Curtius, Book 9, chapter 6.

It was for this reason, then, to render themselves secure, that kings who in an­ cient times seized power, tried to persuade men that they were descended from the immortal gods, th inking that if only their subjects and all men should regard them not as their equals but should believe them to be gods, they would will ingly suffer their rule and would readily submit. Thus Augustus persuaded the Romans that he traced his origin to Aeneas, who was thought to be the son of Venus and ranked among the gods. He wanted to be worshipped with temples and godlike statues, with attendant flam ens and priests (Tac. Ann. I ) . Alexander wished to be saluted as the son of Jupiter, a wish that seems to have been motivated by policy rather than pride, as shown by his reply when attacked by Hermolaus. "It was," he

2 [Vergi l, Aeneid, VI, 1 29, "hoc opus, hie labor est "-S S J

ChapteT 17 539

said, "qu ite absurd for Hermolaus to demand of me that I should take no account of}upiter, by whose oracle I am recognised. Am I responsible even for the answers of the gods? He offered me the name of son ; to accept this" - note well ! - "was by no means incongruous with the designs we are pursuing. Would that the Indians, too, might believe me to be a god! In war, prestige is an important factor, and a false belief has often done duty for truth" (Curtius, Book 8, chapter 8). In these few remarks he cleverly contrives to foist a deception on the ignorant, while at the same time hinting at the reason for the pretence. The same is true of Cleon's speech , attempting to persuade the Macedonians to bow to the king's demand. Mter giving pretence the gloss of truth by extolling Alexander's deeds and re­ viewing his achievemenls, he passes on to the question of expedience, as follows: "The Persians show wisdom as well as piety in worshipping their kings as gods, for majesty is the bulwark of the state's security." And he concludes by saying, "For my part, I will prostrate myself to the ground when the king enters the banquet. Others should do l ikewise, especially those endowed with wisdom" (Curtius, Book 8, chapter 5 ) .

But the Macedonians were too sensible, and only utter barbarians allow them­ selves to be so blatantly deceived and to become slaves instead of subjecls, with no interesls of their own. Others, however, have succeeded more easily in convincing men that royalty is sacred and is God's regent on earth , that it is es­ tabl ished by God, not by the votes and consen t of men, and is preserved and sus­ tained by God's special providence and help. Other ideas of this kind have been devised by monarchs for the security of their rule, but all these I pass over, and in order to reach my intended goal I shall confine myself, as I have sa id, to noting and examining only the things that Moses of old learned to this end by divine rev­ elation .

We have already said in Chapter 5 that, after their departure from Egypt, the Hebrews were no longer bound by the laws of any other nation, but were free to establish new laws as they pleased, and to occupy whatever lands they wished. For after their l iberation from the intolerable oppression of the Egyptians, being bound by no covenant to any mortal man they regained their natural right over everything that lay within their power, and every man could decide afresh whether to retain it or to surrender it and transfer it to another. Finding themselves thus placed in this state of nature, they hearkened to Moses, in whom they all placed the greatest confidence, and resolved to transfer their right not to any mortal man , but to God alone. Without much hesitation they all promised, equally and with one voice, to obey God absolutely in all his commands and to acknowledge no other law but that which he should proclaim as such by prophetic revela tion. Now this promise, or transference of right to God, was made in the same way as we have previously conceived it to be made in the case of an ordinary community when men decide to surrender their natural right For it was by express covenant and oath (Exod. ch. 24 v. 7) that they surrendered their natural right and transferred it to God, which they did freely, not by forcible coercion or fear of threals. Fur­ thermore, to ensure that the covenant should be fixed and binding with no sus­ picion of deceit, God made no covenant with them until they had experienced

540 Theological-Political Treatise

his wonderful power which alone had saved them, and which alone might save them in time to come (Exod. ch . 19 v. 4, 5 ) . For it was through this very belief, that God's power alone could save them, that they transferred to God all their nat­ ural power of self-preservation -which they probably thought they themselves had hitherto possessed-and consequently all their right.

I t was God alone, then , who held sovereignty over the Hebrews, and so th is state alone, by virtue of the covenant, was rightly called the kingdom of God, and God was also called the king of the Hebrews. Consequently, the enemies of th is state were the enemies of God; citizens who aimed to seize the sovereignty were guilty of treason aga inst God, and the laws of the state were the laws and com­ mands of God. So in th is state civil law and rel igion -which we have shown to consist only in obedience to God-were one and the same thing; the tenets of re­ l igion were not j ust teachings but laws and commands; piety was looked upon as j ustice, impiety as crime and in justice. He who forsook h is rel igion ceased to be a citizen and by that alone became an enemy, and he who died for his rel igion was regarded as having died for his country. In short, there was considered to be no difference whatsoever between civil law and rel igion. Hence this form of gov­ ernment could be called a theocracy, its citizens being bound only by such law as was revealed by God. However, all this was a matter of theory rather than fact, for in reality the Hebrews reta ined their sovereign right completely, as will become clear when I describe the manner and method of the government of this state, which I now intend to set forth.

Since the Hebrews did not transfer their right to any other man, but, as in a democracy, they all surrendered their right on equal terms, crying with one voice, "Whatever God shall speak, we shall do" (no one being named as mediator), it follows that this covenant left them all completely equal, and they all had an equal right to consult God, to receive and interpret h is laws; in short, they all shared equally in the government ofthe state. It was for this reason , then, that on the first occasion they all approached God on equal terms to hear what he wished to com­ mand. But on this first appearance before God they were so terrified and so thun­ derstruck at hearing God speak that they thought their last hour had come. So, overwhelmed with fear they went to Moses again, saying, "Behold, we have heard God speaking in the midst of the fire; now therefore why should we die? For th is great fire will surely consume us; if again we are to hear the voice of God, we shall surely die. Go thou near therefore, and hear all that our God shall say. And speak thou (not God) to us. All that God shall speak unto thee, we shall hear and do (Exod. ch. 20 v. 1 8) ."

By this they clearly abrogated the first covenant, making an absolute transfer to Moses oftheir righ t to consult God and to interpret his decrees. For at this point what they promised was no� as before, to obey all that God should speak to them, but what God should speak to Moses. (See Deut. ch. 5 after the Decalogue, and ch. 18 v. 1 5 , 1 6. ) Therefore Moses was left as the sole lawgiver and interpreter of God's laws, and thus also the supreme judge, whom no one could judge, and who alone acted on God's behalf among the Hebrews, that is, held the supreme king­ ship, since he alone had the right to consul t God, to give God's answers to the

ChapteT 17 541

people, and to compel them to obey. He alone, I say, for if anyone during Moses' l ifetime sought to make any proclamation in God's name, even if he were a true prophet he was nevertheless guilty of claiming the supreme sovereignty (Num. ch. II v. 28) . '

Here we should observe that al though the people chose Moses, they had no right t o choose h is successor. For a s soon a s they transferred t o Moses their right to consult God and promised without reservation to regard him as the divine or­ acle, they completely lost all their right and were bound to accept as chosen by God whichever successor Moses should choose. Now if Moses had chosen a suc­ cessor to have, l ike himself, complete control over the state, that is, the right to consul t God alone in h is tent, and consequently the authority to make and repeal laws, to make decisions on war and peace, to send envoys, to appoint j udges, to choose a successor, in short, to exercise all the functions of a sovereign, the state would have become simply a monarchy. There would have been no difference but this, that ordinarily a monarchy is ruled in accordance with a decree of God which is h idden even from the monarch, whereas the Hebrew state would be, or should have been, ruled in a definite way by God's decree revealed to the monarch alone. This difference does not diminish the monarch's dominion and right over all his subjects; on the contrary, it increases it. As for the people, in both cases they are equally subject and equally ignorant of God's decree, for in both cases they are dependent on what the monarch says, understanding from him alone what is right and what is wrong. And by believing that the monarch issues commands only in accordance with God's decree as revealed to him, the people would in fact be more, not less, under the monarch's dominion. However, Moses appointed no such successor, but left the state to be so governed by those who came after him that it could be called neither a democracy nor an aristocracy nor a monarchy, but a theocracy. While the right to interpret the laws and to prom­ ulgate God's answers was vested in one man, the right and power to govern the state in accordance with laws thus expounded and answers thus made known was vested in another. See Num. ch. 27 v. 2 1 . " For a clearer understanding of th is situation, I shall expla in in an orderly way how the whole state was governed.

First, the people were commanded to build a dwelling to serve as the palace of God, the state's supreme sovereign. This palace was to be built at the expense not of one man but of the entire people, so that the dwell ing where God was to be consulted should belong to the nation as a whole. The Levites were chosen to be the courtiers and administrators of th is palace of God, while Aaron, the brother of Moses, was chosen to be at their head, in second place, as it were, to God their king, to be succeeded by his sons by hereditary right. Therefore Aaron , as next to God, was the supreme interpreter of God's laws, giving the people the answers of the divine oracle and entreating God on the people's behalf. Now if, along with these functions, he had held the right of issuing commands, his position would

'" See Supplementary Note 36.

"' ... See Supplementary Note 37

542 Theological-Political Treatise

have been that of an absolute monarch. But this right was denied him, and in gen­ eral the whole tribe of Levi was so completely divested of civil rights that they did not have even a legal share of territory, l ike the other tribes, to provide them at least with a livel ihood. Moses ordained that they should be maintained by the rest of the people, yet always be held in the highest honour by the common people as the only tribe dedicated to God.

Next, a mil itary force was formed from the remaining twelve tribes, and they were ordered to invade the land of Canaan and to divide it into twelve parts which would be allocated to the tribes by lot. For this task twelve captains were chosen, one from each tribe, who, together with Joshua and the high priest Eleazar, were given the right to divide the territory into twelve equal parts to be allocated by lot. Joshua was chosen as commander-in-chief of the armed forces, and he alone had the right in emergencies to consult God, not, however, l ike Moses, alone in h is tent or in the tabernacle, but through the mediation of the h igh priest, to whom alone God's answers were given. Furthermore, Joshua alone had the authority to promulgate God's commands as told him by the high priest and to compel the people's obedience, to devise and apply the means of executing these commands, to choose from the armed forces whom he wished and as many as he wished, to send envoys in his own name; in short, the complete control of war was in h is hands alone. There was no successor to his position by hereditary right; only at a time of national emergency was one chosen , and then only by God's direct in ter­ vention. Al all other times all matters concerning war and peace were in the hands of the captains of the tribes, as I shall presently show. Finally, all men between the ages of twenty and sixty were ordered to bear arms and to form armies recruited only from the people, which swore allegiance not to the commander-in-chief nor to the high priest, but to their rel igion and to God. They were thus called the armies and hosts of God, and correspondingly God was called by the Hebrews the Lord of Hosts. It was for this reason that in great battles on whose issue depended victory or defeat for the whole people the ark of the covenant was borne in the midst of the army, so that on seeing their king in their mids� as it were, the people would fight with all their might. 3

From these commands left by Moses to his successors we can plainly see that it was ministers, not masters of the state, that Moses appointed. To no one did he give the right to consult God in sol itude and wherever he wished, and therefore to no one did he give the authority, which he himself possessed, to make and repeal laws, to decide on war and peace, and to choose men for rel igious and secular office, all these being the prerogative of a sovereign . The h igh pr iest did indeed have the right to interpret the laws and to deliver God's answers, but only when requested by the commander-in-chief or the supreme council or similar au­ thorities, and not whenever he wished, l ike Moses. On the other hand the com­ mander-in-chief and the councils could consult God whenever they wished but

3 [Like Machiavelli, for whom Spmoza had conSiderable respect, Spmoza advocates a Citizen mili­ tary, not mercenaries ThIS was one of the good features of the ancient Israelite state (Machlavelh, The Prince, chapters 1 2-14, Spmoza. Political Treatise, 5.7) . ]

ChapteT 17 543

could receive God's answers only from the high priest. Therefore God's words as given by the priest were not decrees, as when given by Moses, but only answers; only when accepted by Joshua and the councils did they have the force of com­ mands and decrees. Moreover, the high priest who received God's answers from God possessed no armed force and held no rightful command, while those who had the right to the possession ofland did not have the right to make laws.

Then again, the h igh priest, in the case both of Aaron and his son Eleazar, was indeed chosen by Moses; but after the death of Moses nobody had the right to choose the h igh priest; son succeeded father by hereditary right. The com­ mander-in-chief was also appointed by Moses, and assumed his office not by virtue of the high priest's right, but by the right of Moses granted to him. So on the death of Joshua the high priest did not choose anyone in his place, nor did the capta ins consult God on the question of a new commander. Each captain re­ ta ined Joshua's command over the military force of his own tribe, and they all collectively took over Joshua's command over the entire military force. There seems to have been no need for a commander-in-chief except when they had to j oin forces aga inst a common enemy, a circumstance which occurred mainly in Joshua's time when not all the tribes had as yet a fixed territory and everything was held in common . But when all the tribes had divided among themselves those territories which they held by right of conquest and those which it was their mission yet to conquer, and all things were no longer held in common, thereby there ceased to be any reason for a common commander; for as a result of the al­ location the different tribes must have been regarded as confederated states rather than as fellow citizens. With respect to God and rel igion they must indeed have been regarded as fellow citizens, but in respect of the right of one tribe as aga inst another they were only members of a confederation, in much the same position (disregarding the common temple) as the High Confederated Estates of the Netherlands. For the division into shares of property held in common simply im­ plies that each member now owns his share alone, the others having surrendered their right to that particular share. This, then, was Moses' purpose in appointing captains of the tribes, that after the division of the state each captain should as­ sume control over h is own part, including the right to consult God through the high priest about the affairs ofhis own tribe, to command his own mil itary forces, to found and fortify cities, to appoint judges in each city, to attack the enemies of his own particular state, in shor� to carry out all the duties of war and peace. He was not required to recognise any other judge than God' or a prophet expressly sent by God. Ifhe rebelled against God, it was the duty of the other tribes to at­ tack h im as an enemy who had violated the terms of h is agreement, not to pass j udgment on him as a subject.

That this was the situation is exemplified in Scripture. After Joshua's death it was the children of Israel who consulted God, not a new commander-in-chief. Now when it was learnt that it fell to the tribe of Judah to be the first to attack its

'" See Supplementary Note 38

544 Theological-Political Treatise

enemy, this tribe alone made an agreement with the tribe of Simeon to j oin forces in attacking their common enemies. The other tribes were not included in th is agreement (Judges ch. I v. 1 , 2, 3 ) ; each tribe waged war separately (as we are told in the same chapter) against its own enemy, imposing terms of sub mission and al­ l iance on whom it would, although they had been commanded to spare no one on any terms and to destroy them utterly. For th is sin they were no doubt reproved, but nobody was in a position to call them to account It was not for such reasons that the tribes began to take up arms against one another and to interfere in an­ other's affairs. But the tribe of Ben jamin, which had wronged other tribes and had so violated the bond of peace that none of the confederates could lodge safely among them, was attacked as an enemy, and after three battles the victors slaugh­ tered them all indiscriminately, guilty and innocent alike, by right of war, a deed which they later bewailed with a repentance that came too late.

These examples plainly confirm what we have just said regarding the right of each tribe. But perhaps the question will be raised-who appointed the successor to the captains of each tribe? Now on this point I cannot find anything definite in Scripture itself, but I conjecture that, since each tribe was divided into famil ies whose heads were chosen from their more senior members, the senior of these suc­ ceeded by right to the office of captain. For it was from the seniors that Moses chose h is seventy colleagues to sit with him on the supreme council. Those who had charge of the government after Joshua's death are called 'elders' in Scripture; and, finally, the use of the word 'elders' to mean judges was a common practice among the Hebrews, as I th ink everyone knows. But for our purpose it matters l ittle if this point rema ins undecided; it is enough to have shown that after Moses' death no one exercised all the functions of a sovereign. The management of affairs was not entirely in the hands of one man, or one council, or the people; some affairs were managed by one tribe and others by the res� with equal right in each case. Thus it clearly follows that after Moses' death the state was left neither as a monarchy nor an aristocracy nor a democracy, but, as we have said, a theocracy, and for the following reasons. First, the royal seat of government was the temple, and it was only in respect of the temple that all the tribes were fellow citizens, as we have shown. Secondly, all their citizens had to swear allegiance to God, their supreme judge, to whom alone they had promised absolute obedience in all things. Finally, when a commander-in-chief was needed, he was chosen only by God. This is what Moses explicitly foretold to the people in God's name in Deut ch. 18 v. 1 5 , and was confirmed in actual fact by the choosing of Gideon, Samson and Samuel . Hence we cannot have any doubt that the other faithful leaders were also chosen in l ike manner, even though this is not expressly stated in the narrative.

Our survey being now complete, it is time for us to see how far a constitution framed on these l ines was able to exercise control over men's minds and to so re­ stra in both rulers and ruled that neither would the latter rebel nor the former be­ come tyrants.

Those who govern the state or hold the reins of power always strive to cloak with a show of legality whatever wrong they commit, persuading the people that this action was right and proper; and this they can easily achieve when the in ter-

ChapteT 17 545

pretation of the law is entirely in their hands. For th is in itself undoubtedly affords them the greatest latitude in doing whatever they want and whatever their appetite suggests, whereas they are largely deprived of th is freedom if the right to interpret the laws is vested in somebody else, and l ikewise if the true interpretation of the laws is so obvious that it is not open to doubt. This makes it clear that the capta ins of the Hebrews found their scope for transgression severely curtailed by the fact that the entire right to interpret the laws was assigned to the Levites (Deut. ch. 2 1 v. 5 ) who had n o share either i n the administration o f the state o r i n its territory, and who saw their entire welfare and prestige dependent on a true interpretation of the law. Furthermore, the entire populace was required to assemble at an ap­ pointed place every seventh year to learn the laws from the priest, and in addition everyone was expected to read and re-read the book of the Law on h is own, con­ stantly and with the utmost concentration. See Deut. ch. 31 v. 9 etc. and ch. 6 v. 7 . Thus, if only in their own in terests, the capta ins had to take great care to gov­ ern entirely in accordance with laws laid down and familiar to all, if they wished to en joy the highest esteem of a people who would then revere them as ministers of God's kingdom and as God's vice-regents. If they acted otherwise they must have inevitably encountered the bitterest hatred-such as religious hatred is wont to be-on the part of their subjects.

Among other considerations that restrained the unbridled l icence of the cap­ tains was one of considerable importance, in that the armed forces were recruited from the whole citizen body with no exceptions between the ages of twenty and sixty, and that the capta ins were not allowed to h ire foreign mercenaries. This, I repea� was of considerable importance, for it is a fact that rulers can subjugate a people simply by means of hired mercenaries, while there is nothing they fear more than the independence of a citizen soldiery who have won freedom and glory for their country by their valour, their toil , and the heavy price of blood. It was for this reason that when Alexander was about to fight his second battle aga inst Darius, he refra ined from rebuking Parmenio on hearing his advice, but instead rebuked Polypercon , who was merely supporting Parmenio. For, as Curtius says in Book 4, chapter 1 3, having recently rebuked Parmenio more severely than he might have wished, he did not venture to castigate him again. Nor was he able to suppress the Macedonians' freedom-of which, as I have already said, he was in great fear- until he had increased the number of troops recruited from prisoners of war far above the level of the Macedonians. Only then could he give rein to the vicious propensities that had long been held in check by the independence of h is best countrymen. Now if this independence of a citizen soldiery can restrain the rulers of a secular state who usually claim for themselves all the credit for victo­ ries, it must have exercised far greater restraint on the Hebrew captains whose sol­ diers fought not for their captain's glory, but for the glory of God, and who did not j oin battle until they had received God's assent.

Another check on the Hebrew capta ins was the fact that rel igion was the only tie that bound them all together. Therefore if one of them transgressed against re­ l igion and began to violate individual rights given by God, the others could treat him as an enemy and lawfully subdue him.

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A third check was afforded by the fear of the appearance of a new prophet. If a man of proven virtue could show by certain acknowledged signs that he was a prophet, he thereby, l ike Moses, assumed the supreme right to command in the name of God to him alone revealed, not consulted only through the mediation of a pries� as was the case with the capta ins. And there is no doubt that if the people were oppressed, such prophets could easily ga in support, and by signs of no great significance they could convince the people of whatever they wished. On the other hand, if the government were properly conducted, the captain could en­ sure in good time that the prophet should first stand before him to be examined as to whether he was of proven virtue, whether he possessed sure and indubitable signs of his mission, and whether his message in God's name was consistent with the accepted teachings and common laws of his country. Ifhis signs were less than satisfactory, or h is teaching innovatory, he could rightly be condemned to death. In the other event, he was accepted only on the captain's authority and testimony.

Fourthly, there was the fact that the capta in had no superiority over others by nobil ity of descent or right of birth ; the government of the state was in his hands only by reason of his age and qualities.

Finally, the capta ins and the entire armed force did not have any reason to pre­ fer war to peace. The army, as we have said, was entirely a citizen force, and there­ fore matters of both war and peace were in the same hands. Thus the soldier in the camp was a citizen in the forum, the officer in the camp was a judge in the law-court, and the commander-in-chief in the camp was a ruler in civil l ife. There­ fore nobody could want war for war's sake, but only for the sake of peace and the defence of freedom; and possibly the capta in refra ined from new ventures as far as he could so as to avoid having to approach the high priest and stand before him to the detriment of his dignity. So much, then, for the reasons that kept the cap­ ta ins within due bounds.

We must now consider what were the restraints on the people, though these are also plainly indicated by the basic principles of the state. Even a cursory ex­ amination will at once reveal that these must have kindled such an ardent pa­ triotism in the hearts of the citizens that it could never enter anyone's mind to betray or desert his country; on the contrary, they must all have been of such a mind as to suffer death rather than a foreign yoke. For having transferred their right to God, believing that their kingdom was God's kingdom and that they alone were God's children , while the other nations were God's enemies for whom they therefore fel t an implacable hatred (for th is, too, they believed to be a mark of piety; see Psalm 1 39 v. 2 1 , 22), they could think of nothing more abhorrent than to swear allegiance and promise obedience to a foreigner, and they could con­ ceive of nothing more wicked and abominable than to betray their country, that is, the very kingdom of the God whom they worsh ipped. Indeed, it was regarded as utterly disgraceful even to emigrate, for the religious rites which it was their constant duty to practise could be performed only on their native soil; it alone was held to be holy ground, the rest of the world being unclean and profane. It was for this reason that David, when driven into exile, complained to Saul in these words: "If those who stir thee up aga inst me be men, they are accursed, for they

ChapteT 17 547

shut me out from walking in the inheritance of the Lord, saying, 'Go and worship other gods .... For the same reason -and this is here specially noteworthy-no citizen was condemned to exile; for the wrongdoer does indeed deserve to be pun­ ished, but not to be outraged.

Therefore the patriotism of the Hebrews was not simply patriotism but piety, and this, together with hatred for other nations, was so fostered and nourished by their daily ritual that it inevitably became part of their nature. For their daily wor­ ship was not merely quite differen� making them altogether unique and com­ pletely distinct from other peoples, but also utterly opposed to others. Hence th is daily invective, as it were, was bound to engender a lasting hatred of a most deep­ rooted kind, since it was a hatred that had its source in strong devotion or piety and was believed to be a rel igious duty-for that is the bitterest and most persist­ ent of all kinds of hatred . And this was reinforced by the universal cause of the continuous growth of hatred, to wit, the reciprocation of hatred; for the other na­ tions inevitably held them in bitter hatred in retu rn.

How all these factors- their freedom from human rule, their devotion to their country, their absolute right against all others and a hatred that was not only per­ missible but a rel igious duty, the hostil ity of all around them, their distinctive cus­ toms and rites-how all these factors, I say, combined to fortify the hearts of the Hebrews to endure all things for their country with unexampled steadfastness and valour, is confirmed by reason and attested by experience. Never while their city stood could they long endure foreign dominion, and that was why Jerusalem was wont to be called the rebellious city (Ezra ch. 4 v. 12, 1 5 ) . I t was with the great­ est difficulty that the Romans succeeded in destroying their second state (a mere shadow of the first, the priests having usurped the right to govern ), as Tacitus bears witness in these words in Histories, Book 2: "Vespasian had brought to an end the Jewish War except for the siege of Jerusalem, a task rendered more severe and dif­ ficult by the character of the people and the obstinacy of their superstitious be­ l iefs rather than by the sufficiency of their resources to endure the hardsh ips of a siege."

But beside these factors, whose influence is a matter of subjective assessment, there was another feature of th is state, peculiar to it and of indisputable weight, which must have been most effective in deterring citizens from contemplating defection and from ever wanting to desert their country, to wit, the motive of self­ interest, the strength and life of all human action . This, I say, was a feature pecu­ l iar to th is state. Nowhere else did citizens have stronger right to their possessions than did the subjects of this state, who had an equal share with the captain in lands and fields, and were each the owners of their share in perpetuity. For if any man was compelled by poverty to sell h is farm or field, it had to be restored to him when the jubilee came round, and there were other similar enactments to pre­ vent the al ienation of real estate. Then again, nowhere could poverty have been lighter to endure than there, where charity to one's neighbour, that is, to one's fel­ low citizen , was a duty to be practised with the utmost piety so as to gain the favour of God, their king. Thus the Hebrew citizens could enjoy a good life only in their own country; abroad they could expect only hurt and humiliation .

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Moreover, the following considerations were particularly effective not only in keeping them in their native land but also in avoiding civil war and in removing the causes of strife, namely, that no man served his equal, but only God, that char­ ity and love towards one's fellow citizen was regarded as a supreme religious duty and was fostered to no small degree by the common hatred they had for other na­ tions, and other nations for them. A further important factor was their tra ining in strict obedience, imposing the duty of following a definite prescribed law in all that they did. A man might not plough when he pleased, but only at fixed times and seasons, and then with only one kind of animal at a time; l ikewise, he might sow and reap only in a certa in way and a t a certa in time. To sum up, their l ife was one long schooling in obedience (see Chapter 5 regarding ceremonial practices) . Therefore to men so habituated to it obedience must have appeared no longer as bondage, but freedom. From this i t must also have followed that nobody desired what was forbidden and all desired what was commanded, an attitude consider­ ably encouraged by the requirement to give themselves up to rest and rejoicing at certain seasons of the year, not for self-indulgence, but to serve God with a cheer­ ful heart Three times a year they feasted before the Lord (Deut ch. 1 6) . On the seventh day of every week they had to cease from all work and give themselves over to rest; and in addition to these, other times were appointed when innocent rejoicing and feasting were not merely permitted but enjoined. In my opinion no more effective means can be devised to influence men's minds, for noth ing can so captivate the mind as j oy springing from devotion, that is, love mingled with awe. Nor was there much l ikel ihood that repetition would bring about boredom; the ceremonial appointed for feast days recurred only at lengthy in tervals and was varied in character. Furthermore, there was their deep reverence for their temple because of its special rites and the ceremonies required before one was allowed to enter, a reverence which they most rel igiously preserved at all times, so that even today Jews cannot read without the deepest horror of Manasseh's crime in daring to introduce an idol into the very temple. No less was the people's reverence for the Law, which was most zealously guarded in the inmost shrine. Hence in th is state there was little danger of murmurings and unorthodoxy on the part of the people. No one ventured to pass judgment in matters of rel igion; they had to obey all that was commanded them on the authority of God's answer received in the temple, or of the Law established by God, without any resort to reason.

I have thus, I th ink, set forth quite clearly, though briefly, the main features of the Hebrew state. It now remains for me to enquire into the reasons why the He­ brews so frequently forsook the Law, and why they were so many times conquered, and why it came about in the end that their state was utterly destroyed. Perhaps at th is point it will be suggested that this resulted from the stubbornness of the race. However, this is a fool ish suggestion, for why was this nation more stubborn than others? Was it by nature? But surely nature creates individuals, not nations, and it is only difference of language, of laws, and of established customs that di­ vides individuals into nations. And only the last two, laws and customs, can be the source of the particular character, the particular mode of l ife, the particular set of attitudes that signalise each nation. So if it had to be allowed that the Hebrews

ChapteT 17 549

were stubborn beyond other mortals, this would have to be attributed to the de­ fectiveness of their laws or of their established customs. It is, of course, true that if God had willed their state to be of longer duration, he would also have given them laws and ordinances of a different kind and would have established a dif­ ferent mode of government. So we can only say that their God was angry with them, not only, as Jeremiah says in chapter 32 verse 2 1 , from the foundation of their city, but right from the time when their laws were ordained. Ezekiel , too, makes the same point in chapter 20 verse 25, where he says: "I gave them also statutes that were not good and judgmen ts whereby they should not l ive, in that I polluted them in their gifts by rejecting all that opened the womb (that is, the firstborn) so that I might make them desolate, to the end that they might know that I am the Lord."

In order that we may rightly understand these words and the cause of the de­ struction of the state, we should observe that it had first been intended to entrust the entire min istry of rel igion to the firstborn, not to the Levites (Num. ch. 8 v. 1 7) ; but when all except the Levites had worshipped the calf, the firstborn were rejected as defiled and the Levites were chosen in their place (Deut. ch. 10 v. 8) . The more I consider the change, the more I am forced to exclaim in the words of Tacitus, "At that time, God's concern was not for their security, but for vengeance."' I cannot suffiC iently marvel that such was the wrath ofheaven 5 that God framed their very laws, whose sole end should always be the honour, welfure and security of the people, with the intention of avenging himself and punishing the people, with the result that their laws appeared to them to be not so much laws- that is, the safeguard of the people-as penalties and punishments. All the gifts that they were required to make to the Levites and priests, as l ikewise the com­ pulsory redemption of their firstborn by a payment to the Levites for each one, and the fact that the Levites alone were privileged to perform the sacred rites­ all th is was a constant reminder of their defilement and rejection. Then again, the Levites were continually finding occasion to rebuke them, for among so many thousands of people one may well imagine there were many would-be theologians making themselves a nuisance. As a result, the people were keen to keep watch over the Levites-who were no doubt just human -and, as often happens, to ac­ cuse them all for the misdeeds of one. Hence there were continual murmurings, culminating in a sense of resentment at having to maintain in idleness men who were unpopular and un related to them by blood, especially when food was dear. Little wonder, then , that in times of peace when there were no more striking mir­ acles and no men of unquestionable authority appeared on the scene, the people's morale began to fuil through discontent and greed, and eventually they looked for change, forsaking a worship which, although worship of God, nevertheless in­ volved their humiliation and was also the object of suspicion. Little wonder that their rulers-and rulers are always seeking ways to keep for themselves supreme

4 [TaCitus, Histories, I , 3 . An adaptation of " non esse curae deissecuritatem nostram, esse ultiorum." - S .S · I

5 [An adaptation ofVergil, Aeneid, I, 1 1 , "tantaene animis cae/e$libus irae7" -s S 1

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sovereignty over the state- made every concession to the people and introduced new forms of worsh ip, with the view to securing the people's favour and alienat­ ing them from the h igh priest

Now if the constitution of the state had been as first intended, all the tribes would have enjoyed equal right and honour, and the whole structure of the state would have been quite sound_ For who would have wished to violate the sacred right of their own kinsfolk? What more could they have wanted than to maintain their own kinsfolk, their brothers and fathers, as a rel igious duty, to be taught by them the interpretation of the laws, and to await God's answers from them. More­ over, if all the tribes had preserved equal right to the sacred offices, they would thus have remained far more closely un ited . Even so, there would still have been no dangerous consequences if the election of the Levites had been inspired by anything other than anger and revenge. However, as I have said, their God was angry with them, and, to repeat the words of Ezekiel , he polluted them in their gifts by rejecting all that opened the womb, so as to make them desolate.

The historical narratives themselves provide further confirmation of th is view. As soon as the people found themselves with abundant leisure in the wilderness, many of them, of no mean standing, began to resent th is election, and found in this a reason for believing that Moses was acting not by divine decree, but at h is own pleasure, in that he had chosen h is own tribe before all others and had be­ stowed on his own brother the office of high priest in perpetuity. They therefore went to him, ra ising a tumult and crying that all were equally holy and that it was wrong for him to be exalted above all others 6 In no way could Moses pacify them, but a miracle intervened as a sign of h is fa ithfulness, and they were all wiped out Then came a new and widespread revolt of the entire people, who believed that the men had perished not by God's judgment but by the devising of Moses. When a great disaster or plague had at last reduced them to exhaustion, he succeeded in pacifying them, but their condition was such that they all preferred death to l ife. It would therefore be truer to say of that time that there was a cessation of rebellion rather than a restoration of harmony. This is confirmed by the words of Scripture in Deuteronomy chapter 3 1 verse 2 1 , where, after foretell ing that the people would fall away from the practice of their rel igion after his death, God says to Moses, "For I know their desire, and what they are about this day, even before I have brought them to the land which I swore." And a l i ttle later Moses speaks thus to the people, "For I know thy rebellion and thy stiff neck. If while I have lived among you ye have been rebellious against the Lord, how much more after my death."

And this is what in fact occurred, as we know. There ensued great changes, un­ bounded l icence, self-indulgence and sloth, leading to a general decl ine until, af­ ter being frequently subjugated, they came to open rupture with divine rule and sought a mortal king, making the seat of government a court rather than a tem­ ple, with all the tribes no longer reta ining a common citizenship on the basis of the divine rule and the priesthood, but by allegiance to a king. But here was am­ ple material for fresh sedition, which led ultimately to the downfall of the entire

6 [Here Spinoza ls alludmg to the rebellion of Korab. related I D Numbers 16 . }

ChapteT 17 5 5 1

state. For what can b e more intolerable to kings than to rule by sufferance, and to allow a dominion with in their dominion? The first kings to be chosen from pri­ vate station were content with the rank to which they had been elevated, but when their sons succeeded by hereditary right they gradually began to bring about ex­ tensive changes so as to hold the absolute sovereignty in their own hands alone. This they lacked to a considerable extent as long as control over the laws was ex­ ercised not by them but by the h igh priest, who guarded the laws in the sanctuary and interpreted them to the people. Thus the kings were bound by the laws no less than their subjecls, and had no right to repeal them or to enact new laws of equal authority. A further contributory factor was that the r ight of the Levites de­ barred kings just as much as their subjecls from administering the sacred rites: they were equally unholy. Lastly, there was the fact that the security of their rule depended solely on the will of one man, who was seen as a prophet. Of this last they had seen examples, such as the emphatic independence shown by Samuel in giving orders to Saul, and the facil ity with which he was able to transfer the sov­ ereignty to David because of a single fault. Therefore they saw an empire within their empire, and they ruled on sufferance.

To overcome these restrictions they permitted other temples to be dedicated to the gods to avoid further occasion to consult the Levites, and then they sought out other men to prophesy in God's name, so as to have prophets to counter the true prophets. But their various attempts never succeeded in achieving their aims. For the prophets, always resourceful, awaited their opportunity in the rule of a suc­ cessor, which is always precarious as long as the memory of his predecessor re­ mains fresh. Then, by their divine authority, they could readily induce someone hostile to the king and of high repute to champion the divine right and cla im the sovereignty, or some portion of it, by right. Yet the prophels in their turn met with no great success by these methods; for even though they removed a tyrant, the causes of tyranny rema ined. Thus they merely succeeded in install ing a new tyrant at the cost of much citizen blood. There was no end, then , to discord and civil wars, but the causes which led to the violation of the divine law were always the same, and could be removed only along with the whole constitution.

We have now seen in what manner rel igion was introduced into the Hebrew commonwealth, and how the state might have lasted indefinitely if the just anger of the lawgiver had allowed it to continue in its original form. But since th is was impossible, it was bound eventually to come to an end. I have here been dis­ cussing only the first state; the second7 was a mere shadow of the first, in that people were bound by the right of the Persians to whom they were subject, and after the restoration of independence the priests usurped the right of government, thereby holding absolute power. Hence the priests became inflamed with the de­ sire to combine secular and rel igiOUS rule. For this reason I have thought it un-

7 [The destruction of tbe Temple In 586 B c. by the Babylomans is commonly taken to be the end of the First Commonwealth, the Second Commonwealth IS usually understood to have commenced With the restoration of the H igh Pnesthood m Jerusalem ID 538 B.C. under the sponsorship of the PersulD Kmg Cyrus 1

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necessary to say more about the second state. As to whether the first state, regard­ ing only its lasting qualities, is a model to be imitated, or whether it is a pious duty to imitate it as far as possible, this will become clear in the following chapters. Here, in conclusion, I would l ike merely to emphasise a point already indicated. From the findings of this present chapter it clearly emerges that the divine right, or the right of religion, originates in a contract, without which there is no right but natural right, and so the Hebrews were not required as a rel igious duty to prac­ tise piety towards peoples who were not party to the contract, but only towards their fellow citizens.

CHAPTER 1 8

From the commonwealth of the Hebrews and their history some political principles are deduced

AI though the Hebrew state, as in the previous chapter we have conceived it to be, might have lasted indefinitely, it is not possible to imitate it now, nor would it be advisable. If any people should resolve to transfer their right to God, they would have to make a covenant expressly with God, as did the Hebrews, and so it would be necessary to have not only the consent of those transferring their right but also the consent of God to whom the right was to be transferred. God, however, has revealed through his Apostles that his covenant is no longer written in ink or en­ graved on tablets of stone, but is inscribed by God's spirit in men's hearts. Then again, this form of state might possibly meet the needs of those who intend to l ive for themselves alone with no extemal ties, shutting themselves away within their own boundaries and cutting themselves off from the rest of the world; but it would not suit those who have to have deal ings with the outside world . I t follows that th is form of state would be practicable for only a very few. However, al though it can­ not be imitated in all respects, it possessed many features which are at least wor­ thy of note, and which it may perhaps be quite profitable to imitate. But since, as I have mentioned, it is not my purpose to compose a full-length treatise on the state, I shall omit most of these features and shall draw attention only to those that are relevant to my goal.

First, it is not inconsisten t with God's kingsh ip to elect a supreme ruler who would have complete command over the state. For after the Hebrews had trans­ ferred their right to God, they gave the supreme sovereignty to Moses, who thus had sole authority to enact and repeal laws in God's name, to choose ministers of the sacred rites, to judge, to instruct, to punish - in short, to be an absolute ruler in all matters. Secondly, although the ministers of the sacred rites were the in ter­ preters ofthe laws, it was not for them to judge citizens or to excommunicate any­ one: this right belonged only to judges and captains chosen from the people. (See Joshua chapter 6 verse 26; Judges chapter 21 verse 1 8; and I Samuel chapter 14

ChapteT 18 5 5 3

verse 24. ) And if, furthermore, we turn our attention to the course of events in the history of the Hebrews, we shall find other points equally worthy of note.

\. There were no rel igious divisions among the people until the h igh priests in the second state acquired the authority to issue decrees and to transact gov­ ernment business-an authority which they sought to render permanent by usurping the government and finally demanding the title ofkings. The reason for these sectarian divisions is readily seen. In the first state no decrees could bear the name of a h igh priest: they had no righ t to issue decrees, only the right to give God's answers when requested by the captains or the councils. Therefore during that period they could have had no desire to make innovations: they wanted only to administer and uphold what was approved by custom and tradition. For the only way in which they could safely preserve their own independence in the face of the captains was to keep the laws intact. But after they had acqu ired the power to transact government affairs and had added to the priesthood the right of secular rule, they each began to seek self-glorification both in rel igious and secular mat­ ters. They extended pontifical authority to all areas, and in the field of rel igious rites, dogma and all else they con tinually issued new decrees for which they claimed no less sanctity and authority than for the laws of Moses. As a result, re­ l igion degenerated into pernicious superstition, and the true meaning and inter­ pretation of the laws was corrupted.

Furthermore, while the priests at the beginning of the restoration were pursu­ ing the path to secular rule, in order to gain the support of the masses they in­ dulged them in every way, approving their deeds, however impious, and adapting Scripture to suit their immoral ity. Malach i bears witness to their conduct in the most impressive terms. Rebuking the priests of his day, he calls them despisers of God's name, and then goes on to chide them thus: "The priest's l ips are the guardians of knowledge and the law is sought from his mouth, because he is the emissary of God. But ye have departed out of the way, ye have made the Law a stumbl ing-block to many, ye have corrupted the covenant of Levi, saith the Lord of hosts" (Malachi ch. 2 v. 1-9). He then proceeds to accuse them of interpreting the laws at their pleasure, and of having no regard for God, but only for persons. But the priests, however careful they were, must certainly have failed to conceal these actions from the more intelligent citizens, who therefore mainta ined with increasing boldness that the only laws to be kept were the written laws, while the decrees which the Pharisees (who, as Josephus tells us in his Antiquities, were drawn mainly from the common people) mistakenly called 'the traditions of the fathers' should be discarded. Be that as it may, there is no possible doubt that the servile attitude of the high priests, the corruption of rel igion and the laws, the enormous prol iferation of the latter, all gave serious and frequent occasion for arguments and quarrels that could never be appeased. For when men begin to dis­ pute with superstitious fervour, and the civil authority favours one side or the other, they cannot be reconciled and inevitably split into sects.

2 . It is worthy of remark that the prophets, men of private station, in exercis­ ing their freedom to warn, to rebuke and to censure, succeeded in annoying men rather than reforming them, whereas men who were admonished or castigated by

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kings were more apt to turn from their ways_ Indeed, even devout kings often found prophets intolerable because of their assumption of authority to decide what action was pious or impious, and even to berate the kings themselves if the latter had the hardihood to transact any business, public or private, against their j udgment King Asa, who according to Scripture was a pious ruler, consigned the prophet Hanani to prison (2 Chron. ch. 1 6) for venturing to reproach him too freely in the matter of the treaty made with the king of Aramaea. There are other examples to show that such freedom brought rel igion more harm than good, not to mention that great civil wars also originated from the prophets' retention of so important a right.

3 . I t is also noteworthy that as long as the people was sovereign there was only one civil war, and even that ended with peace completely restored, the victors showing such compassion to the conquered that they sought every means to re­ store them to their former dignity and power. But after the people, who were l i t­ tle accustomed to kings, changed the original form of their state to monarchy, there was practically no end to civil wars, and the fighting reached such ferocity as to surpass all previous record. In a single battle-and this is almost incredible- 500,000 Israelites were slain by the men ofjudah, while in turn in another battle the Israelites slew a great number of the men of Judah (the figure is not given in Scripture), captured their king, almost demol ished the walls of Jerusalem and, as proof of an anger that knew no bounds, completely sacked the temple. Laden with the enormous booty of their brethren and glutted with blood, they took hostages and, leaving the king in h is almost devastated kingdom, they laid down their arms, relying for their security on the weakness rather than the good faith of the men of Judah. For the men of Judah, recovering their strength a few years later, once more went forth to battle, where the Israelites were again victorious, slaying 120,000 of the men of Judah, taking captive their women and children to the number of 200,000, and again seizing considerable booty. Exhausted by these battles and by others that are narrated in the course of their history, they eventually fell prey to their enemies.

Furthermore, if we reckon up the periods of unbroken peace enjoyed under the two forms of government, we shall again find a considerable difference. Be­ fore the monarchy there were several periods of forty years, and one incredible period of eighty years, when peace prevailed both at home and abroad. But after the establ ishment of monarchy wars were no longer to be fought for peace and freedom, but for glory, and we find that all the kings waged war with the excep­ tion of Solomon, whose outstanding quality, wisdom, could find better scope in peace than in war. Add to this the fatal ambition for royal power, which in most cases made the path to the throne a very bloody one.

Finally, as long as the people held the reins of government, the laws remained uncorrupted and were observed with greater constancy. For before the monarchy very few prophets arose to admonish the people, whereas after the election of kings we find an abundance of them at the same time. Obadiah rescued a hundred from death, hiding them so as to save them from execution along with the rest. Nor do we see the people being deceived by false prophets until the rule of kings, whose

ChapteT 18 5 5 5

favour i s eagerly sought b y most men. Then there i s the further fact that the people- in whom there is generally a proud or humble spirit according to chang­ ing circumstance-was ready to mend its ways in time of disaster, turning to God, restoring the laws, and thus extricating itselffrom all peril ; whereas kings, who are unvaryingly proud-spirited and who cannot change course without humiliation , adhered obstinately to their faults right up to the final destruction of the city.

From these considerations we can clearly see: I. How disastrous it is for both religion and state to grant to rel igious func­

tionaries any right to issue decrees or to concern themselves with state business. Stabil ity is far better assured if these officials are restricted to giving answers only when requested, and at other times to teaching and practising only what is ac­ knowledged as customary and traditional .

2. How dangerous it is to refer to religious jur isdiction matters that are purely philosophical, and to legislate concerning bel iefs that are frequently subject to dis­ pute, or can so be. Tyranny is most violent where individual bel iefs, which are an inal ienable right, are regarded as criminal. Indeed, in such circumstances the anger of the mob is usually the greatest tyrant of all. It was in giving way to the anger ofthe Pharisees that Pilate ordered the crucifixion of Christ, whom he knew to be innocent Then aga in, it was with the purpose of casting down the rich from their privileged position that the Pharisees began to instigate rel igious inquisitions and to accuse the Sadducees of impiety. Following this example of the Pharisees, the vilest hypocrites, urged on by that same fury which they call zeal for God's law, have everywhere persecuted men whose blameless character and distin­ guished qualities have excited the hostil ity of the masses, publicly denouncing their beliefs and inflaming the savage crowd's anger against them. And this shame­ less l icence, sheltering under the cloak of rel igion, is not easy to suppress. This is especially so where sovereign powers have introduced a rel igious sect of which they are not themselves the founders; for they are then regarded not as interpreters of religious law but as mere members of the sect, that is, as acknowledging the sectarian teachers to be the interpreters of religious law. So in these matters the common people have l ittle regard for the authority of rnagistrates, holding in high esteem the authority of sectarian leaders, and they believe that even kings should bow down to in terpretations made by the latter. To avoid these evils, then, the safest course for the commonwealth is to define piety and rel igious observance as consisting only in works, that is, simply in the exercise of charity and just dealing, and to allow individual free judgment in all other matters. But more of th is later.

3. How essential it is for both commonwealth and religion that the sovereign power should be given the righ t to decide what is right and what is wrong. For if the right to pass judgment on actions could not be given even to the prophets of God without great harm to the commonwealth and rel igion, far less should it be given to those who can neither foretell the future nor work miracles. However, I shall be dealing with this at full-length in the next chapter.

4. Finally, we see how fatal it is for a people unaccustomed to the rule of kings, and already possessing established laws, to set up a monarchy. For neither will the people be able to endure such autocratic rule nor the monarch to tolerate laws

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and rights of the people which have been instituted by someone of inferior au­ thority. Still less could the sovereign persuade himself to uphold these laws, since they could not have been designed to take any account of a king, but were insti­ tuted for a people, or a council, which regarded itself as sovereign. So in uphold­ ing the ancient rights of the people the king would appear to be its servant rather than its master. Therefore a newly established monarch will make every effort to introduce new laws and to reconstitute the state's legal code to his own advantage, reducing the people to a point where it will find it not so easy to abolish monar­ chy as to set it up.

Here, however, I must not fail to point out that there is also no less danger in­ volved in removing a monarch, even ifhis tyranny is apparent to all. The people, accustomed to royal rule and constra ined by that alone, will despise and mock a lesser authority; and therefore, on removing one king, it will find it necessary to appoint another in h is place, as did the prophets of old. And the successor will be a tyrant not by choice, but by necessity; for how will he be able to endure the sight of the citizens' hands reeking with royal blood, of the people rejoicing in regicide as in a glorious deed, a deed perpetrated as a warning for him alone? Surely, ifhe wants to be a king, if he does not wish to acknowledge the people as j udge ofkings and master over him, if he does not wish to reign on sufferance, he must avenge the death of his predecessor, and for his own sake make an example that will warn the people against daring to repeat such a crime. But he cannot easily avenge the tyrant's death by the execution of citizens without defending the cause of the tyrant who preceded him, approving his actions, and consequently following in his footsteps.

This, then, is the reason why a people has often succeeded in changing tyrants, but never in abol ishing tyranny or substituting another form of government for monarchy. A sad example of this truth is provided by the Engl ish people, who un­ der the form oflaw sought grounds for removing their monarch, I but with his dis­ appearance found it quite impossible to change their form of government. After much bloodshed they resorted to hailing a new monarch by a different name2 (as if the whole question at issue was a name), and he succeeded in maintaining h is place only by utterly destroying the royal l ine, kill ing the king's friends, or those thought to be so. He went to war, disrupting the peace whose leisure might breed murmurings, so that the populace would turn its thoughts away from the execu­ tion of the king to fresh matters that would engage its full attention. Too late, then , did the people come to realise that to save their country they had done nothing other than violate the right of their lawful king and change everything for the worse. Therefore, when the opportun ity came, it decided to retrace its steps, and was not satisfied until it saw a complete restoration of the former state of affa irs. 3

Now perhaps the Romans will be produced as an example to prove that a people can easily remove a tyrant; but I hold that this example entirely confirms

I [Charles I , executed I n 1 649 .} 2 [Cromwell assumed the title of Protector.]

� [The Restoration of 1660 1

ChapteT 19 557

my view. It is true that the Romans found it far easier to remove a tyrant and change the form of their state because the right to appoint the king and his suc­ cessor was vested in the people itself; and furthermore the people, composed as it was of rebels and criminals, had not yet acqu ired the habit of obedience to kings, having killed three of the previous six. Yet all that they succeeded in doing was to appoint several tyrants in place of one,. and these kept them wretchedly em­ broiled in wars, foreign and civil, until at last the government became once more a monarchy with merely a change of name, as in England. 5

As for the Estates of Holland, as far as we know they never had kings, but counts, to whom the right of sovereignty was never transferred. As the High Es­ tates of Holland make pla in in the document published by them at the time of Count Leicester,6 they have always reserved to themselves the authority to remind the said counts of their duty, and have retained the power to uphold this author­ ity of theirs and the freedom of the citizens, to assert their rights against the counts if the latter proved tyrannical, and to keep them on such a tight rein that they could do nothing without the permission and approval of the Estates. From th is it follows that sovereign right was always vested in the Estates, and it was th is sov­ ereignty that the last count' attempted to usurp. Therefore it is by no means true that the Estates revolted aga inst him, when in fact they recovered their original sovereignty wh ich had almost been lost.

These examples, then , fully confirm our assertion that every state must neces­ sarily preserve its own form, and cannot be changed without incurring the danger of utter ruin. These are the points which I have here thought worthy of remark.

C HAPTER 1 9

It is shown that the right over matters of religion is vested entirely in the sovereign, and that the external forms of worship should be such as accord with the peace of the commonwealth,

if we would serve God aright

When I said above that only those who hold the sovereign power have an overall right and that all law is dependent on their decision alone, I intended not only civil but rel igious law; for in the case of the latter, too, they must be both in ter-

.. [ThIS seems a very odd account of the penod of the Roman Repubhc. ] 5 [Presumably a reference to Augustus, who was styled ·princeps'.] 6 [The Earl of Leicester, sent by Elizabeth with some forces to help the Dutch in 1 585, was offered

and accepted the title of supreme governor of the Umted ProvlDces. Spmoza here refers to the doc­ ument setting forth the rights of the Provinces, which Leicester swore to uphold. He resigned In 1 588·1

7 [Phlhp I I of Spain. 1

558 Theological-Political Treatise

preters and guardians. I now wish to draw particular attention to th is point and to discuss it at full length in th is chapter; for there are many who emphatically deny that this right over rel igion belongs to sovereign powers, and they refuse to ac­ knowledge them as interpreters of the divine law. Hence they presume to accuse and traduce sovereigns, and even to excommunicate them from the Church, as Ambrose once did to the Emperor Theodosius. ! But in so doing they are making a divis ion of the sovereignty and actually paving the way to their own supremacy, as I shall demonstrate in the course of this chapter. But first I intend to show that rel igion acquires the force oflaw only by decree of those who hold the sovereignty, and that God has no special kingdom over men except through the medium of temporal rulers. Furthermore, the practice of rel igion and the exercises of piety must accord with the peace and welfare of the commonwealth, and consequently must be determined only by sovereigns, who therefore must also be its in terpreters. I speak expressly of acts of piety and the outward forms of rel igion , not of piety it­ self and the inward worship of God, or of the means whereby the mind is inwardly led to worship God in sincerity of hear� for inward worship of God and piety it­ self belong to the sphere of individual righ t (as we showed at the end of Chapter 7) which cannot be transferred to another. Furthermore, the meaning I here at­ tach to the kingdom of God is, I think, quite clear from Chapter 14. There we showed that he who practises j ustice and charity in accordance with God's com­ mand is fulfilling God's law, from which it follows that the kingdom of God is where justice and charity have the force of law and command. And here I ac­ knowledge no distinction whether it is by the natural l ight of reason or by revela­ tion that God teaches and commands the true practice of justice and charity, for it matters not how the practice of these virtues is revealed to us as long as it holds the place of supreme authority and is the supreme law for men. So if! now show that j ustice and charity can acquire the force of law and command only through the right of the state, I can readily draw the conclusion -since the state's right is vested in the sovereign alone- that religion can acquire the force oflaw only from the decree of those who have the right to command, and that God has no special kingdom over men save through the medium of those who hold the sovereignty.

Now this truth, that the practice of justice and charity does not acquire the force of law save from the right of the state, is clear from our previous discussion. For we showed in Chapter 16 that in a state of nature reason possesses no more right than does appetite, and those who l ive in accordance with the laws of ap­ petite have just as much right to everything within their power as those who l ive in accordance with the laws of reason. It was in consequence of this that we could not conceive sin to exist in a state of nature, nor God as a judge who punishes men for their sins: all th ings came to pass in accordance with laws common to universal Nature, and the same fate- to quote Solomon -befell the righteous and the wicked, the pure and the impure, and there was no place for j ustice and char­ ity. In order that the precepts of true reason - that is, as we showed in our discus­ sion of the divine law in Chapter 14, the very precepts of God- might have the

I [ In A-D. 390 1

ChapteT 19 5 59

absolute force oflaw, we saw that every man must surrender his natural right and that they must all transfer that right to the whole community, or to a number of men, or to one man. And not un til then did we obtain a clear idea of what is jus­ tice and in justice, right and wrong. Therefore justice and, in sum, all the precepts of true reason , including charity towards one's neighbour, acquire the force oflaw and command only from the right of the state, that is (as we demonstrated in the same chapter), only from the decree of those who possess the right to command. And since (as I have already shown) God's kingdom consists s imply in the rule of justice and charity, or true rel igion, it follows (as we asserted) that God has no kingdom over men save through the medium of those who hold the sovereignty. And this is equally so, I repea� whether we consider religion to be revealed by the natural l ight or by prophecy; the proof appl ies in all cases, since religion is the same and equally revealed by God in whatever way we suppose men have come to know it.

Thus it was that, even in the case of religion revealed through prophecy, be­ fore it could have the force of law with the Hebrews it was necessary that every one of them should first surrender h is natural right, and that all should by com­ mon consent resolve to obey only what was revealed to them by God through prophecy. This is an exact parallel to what we have shown to be the development of a democracy, where all by common consent resolve to l ive only by the dictates of reason. Now although the Hebrews went further by transferring their right to God, th is transference was notional rather than practical ; for in real ity (as we have seen above) they retained their sovereignty absolutely until they transferred it to Moses, who from then on remained an absolu te ruler, and through h im alone did God reign over the Hebrews. Moreover, this fact- that rel igion ac­ quires the force oflaw solely from the right of the state-also explains why Moses could not punish those who violated the Sabbath before the covenan t, and were thus still in possession of their own righ t (Exod. ch. 16 v. 27); but this he could do after the covenant (Num. ch. 15 v. 36), that is, after every man had surren­ dered h is right and the Sabbath had acquired the force of law from the right of the state.

Finally, this also explains why, with the destruction of the Hebrew state, their revealed religion ceased to have the force of law. We cannot doubt that, as soon as the Hebrews transferred their right to the king of Babylon, the kingdom of God and the divine law came to an abrupt end; for in so doing they completely an­ nulled the covenant whereby they had promised to obey all that God should speak, which had been the basis of God's kingdom. They were no longer able to abide by it, because from that time on they were no longer possessed of their own r ight (as they had been in the wilderness or in their own country) , but were sub­ ject to the king of Babylon whom, as we have shown in Chapter 1 6, they were bound to obey in all th ings. Jeremiah expressly reminds them of this in chapter 29 verse 7, "Seek the peace of that city whither I have brought you captive; for in the peace thereof shall ye have peace." Now they could not seek the peace of that city as officers of state-for they were captives-but only as slaves, that is, by ren­ dering the absolute obedience that shuns insurrection, by keeping the laws and

560 Theological-Political Treatise

ordinances of the state, however different they might be from the laws to which they were accustomed in their own land, and so forth.

From all these considerations it follows quite clearly that among the Hebrews rel igion acquired the force of law solely from the righ t of the state, and, with the destruction of the state, rel igion could no longer be regarded as the command of a particular state, but as the universal doctrine of reason . I say 'of reason,' for the universal rel igion had not yet become known through revelation. We may there­ fore conclude with final ity that religion , whether revealed by the natural light or by prophecy, acquires the force of command solely from the decree of those who have the right to command, and that God has no special kingdom over men save through those who hold the sovereignty. This also follows, and can be more clearly understood, from what we said in Chapter 4; for there we showed that God's de­ crees all involve etemal truth and necessity, and that God cannot be conceived as a ruler or lawgiver enacting laws for mankind. Therefore the divine teachings re­ vealed by the natural l ight or by prophecy do not acquire the force of command from God directly; they must acquire it from those, or through the medium of those, who have the right to command and to issue decrees, and consequently it is only by their mediation that we can conceive of God as reigning over men and directing human affairs according to justice and equity. This conclusion is sup­ ported by experience; for indications of divine justice are to be found only where just men reign ; elsewhere-to quote Solomon once more-we see the same fate befalling the just and the unjust, the pure and the impure. And this it is that has caused many men, who thought that God rules directly over men and orders the whole of Nature to their advantage, to doubt the divine providence. Therefore, since it is established both by reason and experience that the divine law is entirely dependent on the decrees of rulers, it follows that these are also the interpreters of the divine law. How this is so we shall see presently, for it is now time to demon­ strate that the external forms of rel igion and the entire practice of piety must ac­ cord with the peace and preservation of the commonwealth , if we would serve God aright. When this has been proved, we shall readily understand in what way sovereigns are the interpreters of rel igion and piety.

There can be no doubt that devotion to one's country is the highest form of de­ votion that can be shown; for if the state is destroyed nothing good can survive, everything is endangered, and anger and wickedness reign supreme amidst uni­ versal fear. Hence it follows that any act of piety towards one's neighbour must be impious if it results in harm to the commonwealth as a whole, and any impious act committed against him must be accounted pious if it is done for the sake of the preservation of the commonwealth. For example, if someone who is quar­ relling with me wants to take my coat, i t is an act of piety to give him my cloak as well; but when it is judged that this is detrimental to the preservation of the state, it is then a pious act to bring him to justice, even though he must be condemned to death_ That is why Manlius Torquatus2 ga ined renown: the people's welfare had more weight with him than devotion to his son.

2 [He executed h is son for disobeying orders In a battle agamst the Latins, 340 B.C (L1VY. VII I ) . ]

ChapteT 19 561

This being so, it follows that the welfare of the people is the highest law, to which all other laws, both human and divine, must be made to conform. But since it is the duty of the sovereign alone to decide what is necessary for the wel­ fare of the en tire people and the security of the state, and to command what it judges to be thus necessary, it follows that it is also the duty of the sovereign alone to decide what form piety towards one's neighbour should take, that is, in what way every man is requ ired to obey God. From this we clearly understand in what way the sovereign is the interpreter of rel igion; and, furthermore, we see that no one can rightly obey God unless his practice of piety- which is the duty of every man - conforms with the public good, and consequently, unless he obeys all the decrees of the sovereign. For since we are bound by God's command to practise piety towards all men without exception and to harm no man, it follows that no one is permitted to assist anyone to another's hurt, far less to the detriment of the commonwealth as a whole. So no one can exercise piety towards h is neighbour in accordance with God's command unless his piety and rel igion conform to the publ ic good. But no private citizen can know what is good for the state except from the decrees of the sovereign, to whom alone it belongs to transact publ ic business. Therefore no one can practise piety aright nor obey God unless he obeys the decrees of the sovereign in a l l things. This i s confirmed by actual prac­ tice. For whether a man be a citizen or an alien, a person in private station or one holding command over others, if the sovereign condemns h im to death or declares him an enemy, no subject is permitted to come to h is assistance. S imi­ larly, al though the Hebrews were told that everyone should love h is neighbour as himself (Lev. ch. 19 v. 17, 1 8) , they were nevertheless required to inform the judge of anyone who had committed an act that con travened the edicts of the law (Lev. ch. 5 v. I and Deu!. ch. 1 3 v. 8, 9) and to kill h im ifhe was condemned to death (Deu t ch. 17 v. 7) .

Then again, in order to preserve the freedom they had won and keep complete control over the territories they had seized, the Hebrews, as we explained in Chap' ter 1 7, found it necessary to adapt religion to the needs of their own state alone and to separate themselves from other nations. It was for this reason that they were told : "Love thy neighbour and hate th ine enemy"3 (Matth. ch. 5 v. 43). But when they had lost their independence and were led captive to Babylon, Jeremiah coun­ selled them to take thought for the safety of that city (as well) , to which they had been led captive. And after Christ saw that they would be dispersed throughout the whole world, he taught that they should practise piety to all without excep' tion. All these considerations clearly show that rel igion has always been adapted to the good of the commonwealth.

If I am now asked by what right were Christ's disciples, men of private station, enabled to preach rel igion, I reply that they did so by right of the power they had received from Christ against unclean spirits (Matth. ch. 1 0 v. I ) . For I expressly stated above at the end of Chapter 16 that all men are bound to keep fa ith even

3 [As the editors of the New Oxford Edition of the Bible comment, there is no such commandment in the Hebrew Bible (see on Matthew 5:43) J

562 Theological-Political Treatise

with a tyrant except for him to whom God, by sure revelation, has promised h is special a id against the tyrant. Therefore no one may take precedent from th is un­ less he also has the power to perform miracles_ This point is likewise made man­ ifest by the fact that Christ also bade his disciples not to fear those who kill the body (Matth . ch. 10 v. 28). If this command had been laid on every man, no state could con tinue in existence, and that saying of Solomon (Prov. ch. 24 v. 2 1 ) , "My son, fear God and the king," would have been impiety, which is far from true. Thus it must be granted that the authority which Christ gave the disciples was a unique occurrence, and cannot be regarded as an example for others.

As for the arguments by which my opponents seek to separate religious right from civil right, maintaining that only the latter is vested in the sovereign while the former is vested in the universal church , these are of no account, being so triv­ ial as not even to merit refutation. But one thing I cannot pass over in silence, how lamentably deceived they are when, to support this seditious opinion (par­ don the bluntness of th is expression) they cite the example of the Hebrew high priest who once had control over matters of religion -as if the priests did not re-­ ceive this right from Moses (who, as I have shown above, alone possessed the sov­ ereignty) and could not also have been deprived of it by his decree. For it was Moses who appointed not only Aaron but his son Eleazar and his grandson Phineas, and gave them the authority to carry out their priestly duties. This au­ thority was held by successive high priests only insofar as they were regarded as representatives of Moses, that is, of the sovereign power. For, as I have already shown , Moses did not choose anyone to succeed to his rule: he divided all its func­ tions in such a way that those who followed him were regarded as his deputies, carrying on the government as if the king were absent, not dead. It is true that in the second Hebrew state the h igh priests held th is right absolutely, but that was after they combined the right of secular rule with the priesthood. Therefore the right of the priesthood has always depended on the edict of the sovereign, and the high priests have never held it except when it was combined with secular power. Indeed, the right over rel igion was always vested absolutely in the kings (as will become clear from what I have still to say at the end ofthis chapter) with this one exception: they were not permitted to set their hands to the min istry of sacred rites in the temple, because all who were not descended from Aaron were regarded as unholy. Such a situation, of course, does not obta in in a Christian state.

Thus we cannot doubt that in modern times rel igion -whose ministry de-­ mands outstanding moral qualities, not l ineage, and therefore does not exclude as unholy those who hold the sovereignty-belongs solely to the right of the sov­ ereign . No one has the right and power to exercise control over i� to choose its ministers, to determine and establish the foundations of the church and its doc­ trine, to pass j udgmen t on moral ity and acts of piety, to excommunicate or to ac­ cept into the church, and to provide for the poor, except by the authority and permission ofthe sovereign. These doctrines are not only shown to be true (which we have just done) but also to be essential both to rel igion and to the preservation of the state. For everyone knows how much importance the people attach to the

ChapteT 19 563

right and authority over rel igion , and how they all revere every single word ofhim who possesses that authority, so that one might even go so far as to say that he to whom this authority belongs has the most effective con trol over minds. Therefore anyone who seeks to deprive the sovereign of th is authority is attempting to divide the sovereignty; and as a result, as happened long ago in the case of the kings and priests of the Hebrews, there will inevitably arise strife and dissensions that can never be allayed. Indeed, he who seeks to deprive the sovereign of this authority is paving the way to his own ascendancy, as we have al ready sa id. For what deci­ sions can be taken by sovereigns if this right is denied them? They can decide nothing whatsoever, whether concerning war or peace or any other matter, if they are to wait on the utterance of another who will tell them whether that which they judge to be beneficial is pious or impious. On the contrary, everyth ing will be done according to the decree of him who has the right to j udge and decide what is pious or impious, right or wrong.

Every age has seen such instances, of which I will quote only one, as typical of them all. The Pope of Rome, being granted this right absolutely, began gradually to establish his ascendancy over all the kings un til he actually atta ined the pin­ nacle of dominion. Whenever attempts were later made by monarchs, in par­ ticular by the Emperors of Germany, to diminish his authority in the slightest degree, they met with no success; these very efforts merely increased that author­ ity to a considerable degree. Yet what no monarch could achieve by fire and sword, churchmen succeeded in doing by pen alone;' and this in itself provides a clear indication of the strength and power of rel igious authority, and gives further warn­ ing of the necessity for the sovereign to keep it in h is own hands. Now if we also reflect on the points made in the previous chapter, we shall see that h is retention of this authority is also a strong influence in promoting rel igion and piety. For there we saw that, although the prophets were endowed with a divine virtue, yet, being men of private station, in exercising their freedom to admonish, to rebuke and to denounce, they had the effect of provoking men rather than reforming them, whereas those who were admonished or castigated by kings were more l ikely to turn from their ways. Then again, the kings themselves, simply because this right did not fully belong to them, frequently forsook their rel igion, taking with them nearly all the people. It is a well-established fact that this has frequently occurred even in Christian states for the same reason.

Now perhaps at this point I shall be asked: "Then if those who hold the sover­ eignty choose to be impious, who will be the rightful champion of piety? Are the rulers still to be regarded as the in terpreters of rel igion?" To this I ask in return: "What if churchmen (who are also but human, and, as private citizens, are enti­ tled to have regard for their own affairs) or any others to whom it is proposed to entrust control over religion, should choose to be impious? Are they even then to be regarded as the interpreters of rel igion?" It is indeed true that if those who hold

.. [A reference to Luther and Calvin. ]

564 Theological·Political Treatise

the sovereignty choose to go what way they will, then , whether or not they have control over rel igion, all th ings, both rel igious and secular, will go to ruin: but th is will come about far more quickly if private citizens seditiously seek to be the champions of rel igious law. Therefore noth ing whatsoever is gained by denying this right to sovereigns; on the contrary, evil is aggravated. For, as was the case with the Hebrew kings to whom this right was not unconditionally granted, this very fact is l ikely to drive them to impiety, and in consequence in jury and damage to the entire commonwealth become certain and inevitable instead of uncertain and possible. So whether we have regard to the truth of the matter, or the secu­ rity of the state, or the advancement of piety, we are forced to maintain that di­ vine law, or rel igiOUS law, also depends absolutely on the decree of sovereigns, who are its interpreters and champions. It follows that the ministers of God's word are those who are authorised by their sovereign to teach piety in the form that, by de­ cree of the sovereign, is adapted to the public good.

It now remains for me, in addition, to indicate the reason why this right has al­ ways been the subject of disputes in Christian states, whereas the Hebrews, to the best of my knowledge, never en terta ined any doubt about it It would certa inly seem extraordinary that a matter so pla in and so vitally important should always have been called into question, and that sovereigns have never held this right without controversy- nay, without grave danger of sedition and harm to rel igion. Indeed, if we could not assign any assured cause for th is phenomenon, I might easily be convinced that all the findings of this chapter are merely theoretical, the kind of speculative th inking that can never be of practical importance. But in fact, when we review the origins of the Christian religion, the cause of this phenome­ non is completely revealed. It was not kings who were the first teachers of the Christian rel igion, but men of private station who, despite the will of those who held the sovereignty and were their rulers, were long accustomed to address pri­ vate rel igious assemblies, to institute and perform sacred rites, to make all arrange­ ments and decisions on their own responsibil ity without any regard to the state. Many years later, when their rel igion began to be adopted by the state, the church­ men were obliged to teach it to the emperors themselves in the form they had given it, from which it was an easy step for them to ga in recognition as its teach­ ers and interpreters, and furthermore as the pastors of the church and virtually God's representatives. And to prevent Christian kings from later seizing this au­ thority for themselves, the churchmen devised the very effective precaution of forbidding marriage to the chief min isters of the church and to the supreme in­ terpreter of rel igion. In addition, they multiplied religious dogmas to such an ex­ tent and confused them with so much philosophy that the supreme interpreter of rel igion had to be a consummate philosopher and theologian and to have time for a host of idle speculations. This effectively ruled out all but men of private sta­ tion with abundant leisure.

Now with the Hebrews the position was qu ite different. Their church origi­ nated together with their state, and Moses, the absolute ruler of that state, taught the people their rel igion, arranged the sacred offices and appointed those who

ChapteT 19 565

were to admin ister them. Thus a quite different situation developed, where the royal authority carried the greatest weight with the people, and kings most decid­ edly held the right over rel igion. For although no one held absolute sovereignty after Moses' death , the right to make decisions both in matters rel igious and in other matters was vested in the captains, as I have already shown. Then again, for instruction in religion and piety the people were requ ired to attend on the supreme judge no less than the high priest (Deut. ch. 17 v. 9, 1 1 ) . Finally, although the kings did not possess a right equal to that of Moses, almost all the organisation of religious ministry and appointment thereto depended on their decision. David, for instance, arranged the entire construction of the temple (I Chron. ch. 28 v. I I , 12 etc . ) ; then out of all the Levites he chose 24,000 for the psalm-singing, 6,000 to supply candidates for appointment as j udges and officers, 4,000 door­ keepers and 4,000 to play musical instruments (I Chron. ch. 23 v. 4, 5). He fur­ ther divided these into companies (of which he also chose the leaders) , so that each company should do duty as its turn came round (same chapter, verse 6). The priests he l ikewise divided into as many companies. But to avoid having to go into every detail, I refer the reader to 2 Chron. ch. 8 v. 1 3 , where we read that the wor­ ship of God, as established by Moses, was conducted in the temple by Solomon's command; and in verse 14 that he (Solomon) appointed companies of priests in their ministries and companies of Levites, etc. in accordance with the command of David, the man of God. And finally, in verse 1 5 , the h istorian testifies that "they departed not from the commandment of the king unto the priests and Levites in any matter, nor in the administration of the treasuries."

From all these considerations, together with other narratives concerning the kings, it follows quite clearly that the entire practice of rel igion and its min istry depended solely on the command of the kings. When I stated above that they did not have the same right as Moses to appoint the high pr iest, to consult God directly and to condemn prophets who should prophesy during their l ifetime, this was only because the prophets, from the nature of the authority they pos­ sessed, could appoint a new king and pardon regicide. I did not mean that they were permitted to summon to judgment and lawfully impeach' a king ifhe dared to con travene the laws. Therefore if there had been no prophets who by special revelation could assuredly grant pardon for regicide, the kings would have had absolute right over all matters, both sacred and secular. Hence sovereigns of our times, who neither have prophets nor are bound by right to acknowledge any (not being subject to the laws of the Hebrews), even if they be not cel ibate, possess this right absolutely; and provided they do not allow rel igious dogmas to be mul­ tiplied or to be confused with philosophy, they will always reta in this right.

'" See Supplementary Note 39.

566 Theological-Political Treatise

CHAPTER 20

I t i s shown that in a free commonwealth every man may think as he pleases, and say what he thinks l

I f minds could be a s easily controlled a s tongues, every government would be se­ cure in its rule, and need not resort to force; for every man would conduct him­ self as his rulers wished, and his views as to what is true or false, good or bad, fair or unfair, would be governed by their decision alone. But we have already ex­ plained at the beginning of Chapter 1 7 that it is impossible for the mind to be completely under another's control; for no one is able to transfer to another h is natural right or faculty to reason freely and to form his own judgment on any mat­ ters whatsoever, nor can he be compelled to do so. Consequently, a government that attempts to control men's minds is regarded as tyrannical, and a sovereign is thought to wrong his subjects and infringe their right when he seeks to prescribe for every man what he should accept as true and reject as false, and what are the beliefs that will inspire him with devotion to God. All these are matters belong­ ing to individual right, which no man can surrender even if he should so wish.

I admit that j udgment can be influenced in numerous ways-some of them al­ most past belief-and to such an extent that, although it is not directly subject to another's command, it may be so dependent on another's words that it can prop­ erly be said in that respect to belong to his right. But in spite of all that ingenuity has been able to devise in this field , it has never attained such success that men did not ever find that the individual citizen has his own ideas in plenty, and that opinions vary as much as tastes. Moses had gained the strongest of holds on the minds of h is people not by deception but by h is divine virtue, for he was thought to be a man of God whose every word and action was divinely inspired; yet even he was not exempt from their murmurings and criticisms, and far less so were other monarchs. Now if such exemption from criticism were conceivable, it would surely be in the case of a monarchy, not a democracy, where the sovereignty is corporately held by all the people, or a great part of them. The reason for this, I imagine, is obvious to all.

So however much sovereigns are believed to possess unlimited right and to be the interpreters oflaw and piety, they will never succeed in preventing men from exercising their own particular judgment on any matters whatsoever and from be­ ing influenced accordingly by a variety of emotions. It is true that sovereigns can by their right treat as enemies all who do not absolutely agree with them on all matters, but the point at issue is not what is their right, but what is to their inter­ est. I grant that by this right they can govern in the most oppressive way and exe-

I [Tacitus, Histories, I, 1 , 4, "ubi sentire quae veiis et quae sentios dicere [ieet." -S S 1

ChapteT 20 567

cute citizens on the most trivial pretexts, bu t no one can imagine that by so doing they are acting in accordance with the judgment of sound reason. Indeed, since they cannot so act without endangering the whole fabric of the state, we can even argue that they do not have the absolute power to do these and other such things, and consequently that they do not have the absolute right to do so. For we have demonstrated that the right of sovereigns is determined by their power.

If no man, then, can give up his freedom to judge and think as he pleases, and everyone is by absolute natural right the master of his own thoughts, it follows that utter failure will attend any attempt in a commonwealth to force men to speak only as prescribed by the sovereign despite their different and opposing opinions. Not even men well versed in affuirs can keep silent, not to say the lower classes. I t is the common fa il ing of men to confide what they think to others, even when secrecy is needed. Therefore the most tyrannical government will be one where the individual is denied the freedom to express and to communicate to others what he thinks, and a moderate government is one where this freedom is granted to every man. However, it is also undeniable that words can be treasonable as well as deeds; and so, while it is impossible to deprive subjects completely of this free­ dom, to grant it unreservedly could have the most disastrous consequences. Therefore it is our present task to enquire to what extent this freedom can and should be granted to all without endangering the peace of the commonwealth and the right of the sovereign. This, as I indicated at the beginning of Chapter 1 6, was the main purpose of th is part of my treatise.

It follows quite clearly from my earlier explanation of the basis of the state that its ultimate purpose is not to exercise dominion nor to restrain men by fear and deprive them of independence, but on the contrary to free every man from fear so that he may l ive in security as far as is possible, that is, so that he may best pre­ serve his own natural righ t to exist and to act, without harm to himself and to others. It is not, I repeat, the purpose of the state to transform men from rational beings into beasts or puppets, but rather to enable them to develop their mental and physical faculties in safety, to use their reason without restraint and to refrain from the strife and the vicious mutual abuse that are prompted by hatred, anger or deceit. Thus the purpose of the state is, in reality, freedom.

Furthermore, we have seen that the one essential feature in the formation of a state was that all power to make laws should be vested in the entire citizen body, or in a number of citizens, or in one man. For since there is a considerable di­ versity in the free judgment of men, each believing that he alone knows best, and since it is impossible that all should think alike and speak with one voice, peace­ ful existence could not be achieved unless every man surrendered his right to act j ust as he thought fit. Thus it was only the right to act as he thought fit that each man surrendered, and not his right to reason and j udge. So while to act aga inst the sovereign's decree is definitely an infringement of his right, this is not the case with thinking, j udging, and consequen tly with speaking, too, provided one does no more than express or communicate one's opin ion , defending it through ra­ tional conviction alone, not through deceit, anger, hatred or the will to effect such changes in the state as he himself decides. For example, suppose a man maintains

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that a certain law is aga inst sound reason, and he therefore advocates its repeal. If he at the same time submits his opinion to the judgment of the sovereign power (which alone is competent to enact and repeal laws) , and meanwhile does noth­ ing contrary to what is commanded by that law, he deserves well of the state, act­ ing as a good citizen should do. But if on the contrary the purpose of his action is to accuse the magistrate of injustice and to stir up popular hatred aga inst him, or if he seditiously seeks to repeal that law in spite of the magistrate, he is nothing more than an agitator and a rebel.

Thus we see how the individual citizen can say and communicate to others what he th inks without infringing the right and authority of the sovereign, that is, without violating the peace of the commonwealth . He must leave it to the sover­ eign to decide what action is to be taken in all circumstances, and must not act contrary to its decision, even iffrequently his action has to be in conflict with what he judges and openly procla ims to be good. This entails no violation of justice and piety; indeed, he is bound to act thus ifhe wants to be a just and pious man . For, as we have shown, j ustice depends solely on the decree of the sovereign, and nobody save one who lives in accordance with the sovereign's established decrees can be a just man. As for piety, this (by our findings in the previous chapter) is demonstrated in its h ighest form in the service of the peace and tranquillity of the commonwealth , which, however, cannot be preserved if every man is to l ive sim­ ply as he thinks fit. So it is impious, as well, for the subject to con travene his sov­ ereign's decree just as he pleases; for if this were permitted to everyone, the ruin of the state would inevitably ensue. Indeed, as long as a man is acting in accor­ dance with the sovereign's decrees, he cannot be acting against the decree and dictates of h is own reason; for it was with the full approval of reason that he re­ solved to transfer to the sovereign his right to live by his own judgment. But my argument is further confirmed by actual practice: in the councils of authorities, both sovereign and subordinate, it rarely happens that there is a unanimous vote in favour of some measure; yet everything is done by the common decision of all, whether they have voted for or against. But I must return to my theme.

Our discussion of the basis of the state has revealed how the individual citizen can exercise freedom of judgment without infringing the right of the sovereign. The same considerations enable us just as well to determine what pol itical bel ie& are seditious: they are those which, when posited, immediately have the effect of annull ing the covenant whereby everyone has surrendered his right to act just as he thinks fit. For example, if anyone holds the opinion that the sovereign is not possessed offull power, or that promises need not be kept, or tha t it behoves every­ one to l ive as he pleases, or ifhe holds other such views as are directly opposed to the said covenant, he is guil ty of sedition, not so much because of his judgment and belief as because of the action that is implicit therein . For merely to hold such an opinion is to violate the pledge tacitly or expressly given to the sovereign. And therefore other bel iefs, those in which there is no impl ication of action such as the breaking of the covenant, the exaction of revenge, the indulgence of anger and so forth, are not seditious, except perchance in a state which is in some way corrupted, a state where superstitious and ambitious men who cannot tolerate

ChapteT 20 569

men of integrity have ga ined such a great reputation that the common people pay more heed to them than to the sovereign. We do not deny, however, that there are in addition certain views, which have the appearance of being concerned merely with questions of truth and falsity, but are nevertheless put forward and popu­ larised with malicious purpose. But these, too, we have already deal t with in Chap­ ter 1 5 , and reached a conclusion that left reason nonetheless free.

Finally, if we also reflect on the fact that every man's loyalty to the state can be known only from his works- just as h is devotion to God can be known only from his works, that is, h is charity to his neighbour- we are left in no doubt that a good commonwealth grants to every man the same freedom to philosoph ise as we have seen is granted by rel igious fil ith. I do indeed admit that there may sometimes be some disadvantages in allowing such freedom, but what institution was ever so wisely planned that no disadvantage could arise therefrom? He who seeks to reg­ ulate everything by law will aggravate vices rather than correct them. What can­ not be prohibited must necessarily be allowed, even if harm often ensues. How many are the evils that arise from dissipation , envy, avarice, drunkenness and the l ike? Yet we tolerate these, because although they are in reality vices they cannot be prohibited by legal enactment. Much more, then , should we allow freedom of judgmen� which is assuredly a virtue, and cannot be suppressed. Furthermore, it can produce no un toward results that cannot be contained, as I shall presently show, by the magistrates' authority; not to mention that th is freedom is of the first importance in fostering the sciences and the arts, for it is only those whose judg­ ment is free and unbiased who can atta in success in these fields.

But let it be supposed that this freedom can be suppressed and that men can be kept under such control that they dare not whisper anything that is not com­ manded by the sovereign. Still, it will certainly never come to pass that men will th ink only what they are bidden to th ink. It would thus inevitably follow that in their daily l ives men would be thinking one thing and saying another, with the re­ sui t that good faith, of first importance in the state, would be undermined and the disgusting arts of sycophancy and treachery would be encouraged. This is the source of false deal ing and the corruption of all honest accomplishments. But it is far beyond the bounds of possibility that all men can be made to speak to order. On the con trary, the greater the effort to deprive them of freedom of speech, the more obstinately do they resist: not indeed the greedy, the flatterers and other poor-spirited souls who find their greatest happiness in gloating over their money­ bags and cramming their bell ies, but those to whom a good upbringing, integrity and a virtuous disposition have given a more liberal outlook. Men in general are so constituted that their resentment is most aroused when bel iefs which they think to be true are treated as criminal, and when that which motivates their pious con­ duct to God and man is accounted as wickedness. In consequence, they are em­ boldened to denounce the laws and go to all lengths to oppose the magistrate, considering it not a disgrace but honourable to stir up sedition and to resort to any outrageous action in this cause.

Granted, then, that human nature is thus constituted, it follows that laws en­ acted against men's bel iefs are directed not against villains but aga inst men of good

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character, and their purpose is to provoke honourable men rather than to restrain the wicked. Nor can they be enforced without great danger to the state. Further­ more, such laws are qu ite ineffective; for those who are convinced of the validity of bel iefs that are condemned by law will not be able to obey the law, while those who reject these belie& as false will regard the law in question as enacted for their special benefit. and their exultation over such laws will make it difficult for the magistrate to repeal them thereafter, even if he should so wish. In addition to these considerations, there are the lessons learnt from the h istory of the Hebrews, Chap­ ter 1 8, under the second heading.

Finally, how many divisions in the church have arisen mainly from attempts made by magistrates to settle the disputes of scholars by legislation! If men were not possessed by the hope of enl isting the law and the magistrate on their side, of triumphing over their opponents amid the universal applause of the mob and of ga ining office, they would never engage in such malicious strife against one another nor would they be agitated by such frenzy. This is demonstrated not only by reason but by experience with its daily examples. Laws of this kind, prescrib­ ing what everyone must believe and prohibiting the saying or writing of anything that opposes this or that opin ion , have often been enacted to pander to, or rather to surrender to, the anger of those who cannot endure enl ightened minds, men who, by the exercise of a stern authority can eas ily turn the devotion of the un­ ruly masses into a rage, inciting them against whomsoever they will. Yet how much better it would be to curb the frenzied anger of the mob instead of pass­ ing useless laws which can be broken only by those who love the virtues and the arts, and reducing the state to such straits that it cannot endure men of noble character! What greater misfortune can be imagined for a state than that hon­ ourable men should be exiled as miscreants because their opinions are at variance with authority and they cannot disguise the fact? What can be more calamitous than that men should be regarded as enemies and put to death, not for any crime or misdeed, but for being of independent mind? That the scaffold, the terror of evildoers, should become the glorious stage where is presented a supreme ex­ ample of virtuous endurance, to the utter disgrace of the ruling power? Those who are conscious of their own probity do not fear death as criminals do, nor do they beg for mercy, for they are not tormented with remorse for shameful deeds. On the contrary, they th ink it an honour, not a punishment, to die in a good cause, and a glorious thing to die for freedom. What sort oflesson, then , is learnt from the death of such men , whose cause is beyond the understanding of those of sluggish and feeble spirit, is hated by troublemakers, but is dear to the hearts of all good men? The only lesson to be drawn from their death is to emulate them, or at least to revere them.

Therefore, if honesty is to be prized rather than obsequ iousness, and if sover­ eigns are to reta in full control and not be forced to surrender to agitators, it is im­ perative to grant freedom of judgment and to govern men in such a way that the different and confl icting views they openly proclaim do not debar them from l iv­ ing together in peace. This system of government is undoubtedly the best and its disadvantages are fewer because it is in closest accord with human nature. For we

ChapteT 20 57 1

have shown that in a democracy (which comes closest to the natural state) a l l the citizens undertake to act, but not to reason and to judge, by decision made in com­ mon. That is to say, since all men cannot th ink al ike, they agree that a proposal supported by a majority of votes shall have the force of a decree, meanwhile re­ ta ining the authority to repeal the same when they see a better alternative. Thus the less freedom of judgment is conceded to men, the further their distance from the most natural state, and consequently the more oppressive the regime.

Moreover, to confirm that any disadvantages consequent on this freedom can be avoided simply by the sovereign's authority, and by this authority alone men can be restrained from harming one another even when their opinions are in open conflict, examples are ready to hand, and I need go no distance to find them. Take the city of Amsterdam, which enjoys the fruits of this freedom, to its own consid­ erable prosperity and the admiration of the world. In this flourish ing state, a city of the highest renown, men of every race and sect l ive in complete harmony; and before entrusting their property to some person they will want to know no more than this, whether he is rich or poor and whether he has been honest or dishon­ est in his dealings. As for religion or sect, that is of no account, because such con­ siderations are regarded as irrelevant in a court oflaw; and no sect whatsoever is so hated that its adherents- provided that they in jure no one, render to each what is his own , and live upright lives-are denied the protection of the civil authori­ ties. On the other hand, in time past when politicians and the Estates of the Provinces began to intervene in the rel igious controversy between the Remon­ strants and the Counter-Remonstrants,2 it resulted in a division in the church . Many other instances in that period provide clear evidence that laws enacted to settle religious controversies have the effect of angering men rather than reform­ ing them, that they give some men the opportunity to assume unbounded l icence, and that, furthermore, divisions in the church do not arise from zeal for truth (which breeds only courtesy and tolerance) but from lust for supremacy. From this it is clearer than the sun at noon that the real sch ismatics are those who con­ demn the writings of others and seditiously incite the quarrelsome mob aga inst the writers, rather than the writers themselves, who usually write only for schol­ ars and appeal to reason alone; and that, finally, the real disturbers of peace are those who, in a free commonwealth, vainly seek to abol ish freedom of judgment, which cannot be suppressed.

I have thus shown : I . That it is impossible to deprive men of the freedom to say what they th ink. 2 . That this freedom can be granted to everyone without infringing the right

and authority of the sovereign, and that the individual citizen can preserve th is freedom without infringing that right, provided that he does not presume there-

2 [Durmg the seventeenth cenrury the new Dutch RepublIc was theologically and politically divided between two Protestant groups, the Remonstrants and the Counter�Remonstrants. The former sup­ ported the republic and favored a more liberal theology, reJecbng for example the Calvimst doc­ tnne of predestmatlon. The Counter-Remonstrants sided with the monarchist faction and adhered to orthodox CalVinist theology J

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from to make any innovation in the constitution or to do anything that contra­ venes the established laws.

3 . That every man can possess this freedom without endangering public peace, and any troubles that may arise from this freedom can easily be held in check.

4. That every man can also possess that freedom without endangering piety. 5 . That laws enacted concerning speculative matters are quite useless. 6. Finally, we have shown not only that this freedom can be granted without

detriment to publ ic peace, to piety, and to the right of the sovereign, but also that it must be granted if these are to be preserved. For when a contrary course is taken and attempts are made to deprive men of this freedom, and the beliefs of dissenters (but not their minds, which alone are capable of wrongdoing) are brought to trial , the exemplary punishment inflicted on honourable men seems more like mar­ tyrdom, and serves not so much to terrorise others as to anger them and move them to compassion, if not to revenge. Upright deal ing and good fa ith are un­ dermined, sycophants and traitors are encouraged, and opponents of freedom ex­ ult because their anger has won the day and they have converted the government to their creed, of which they are regarded as the interpreters. As a result, they even venture to usurp the government's authority and right, and they unashamedly boast that they have been chosen directly by God and that their decrees are di­ vinely inspired, whereas those of the sovereign are merely human and should therefore give way before divine decrees-that is, their own . Nobody can fail to see that all this is directly opposed to the welfare of the state. Therefore we have to conclude, as we did in Chapter 1 8, that the state can pursue no safer course than to regard piety and rel igion as consisting solely in the exercise of charity and just dealing, and that the right of the sovereign, both in rel igious and secular spheres, should be restricted to men's actions, with everyone being allowed to think what he will and to say what he thinks.

I have now completed the task I set myself in th is treatise. It only remains for me to state expressly that it contains nothing that I would not will ingly submit to the scrutiny and judgment of my country's govemment If they consider any part of my writing to be contrary to the laws of my country or to be prejudicial to the general good, I retract it. I know that I am human, and may have erred . Yet I have taken great pains not to err, and I have made it my prime object that whatever I have written should be in complete accord with my country's laws, with piety and with moral ity.

Spinoza'. Supplementary Notes, Chapter 1 573

SPINOZA'S SUPPLEMENTARY

NOTES TO THE TRACTATUS THEOLOGICO-POLITICUS

[Notes numbered 28, 29, 30 in Gebhardrs edition have been omitted. Those notes merely refer the reader to Philosophia S. Scripturae Interpres, a tract written by Spinoza's friend Lodewijk Meyer, and bound together with Spinoza's Tracta­ tus in one of its editions . ]

CHAPTER 1

Note I: 'nabi'. If the third radical is one of those termed 'mutes', it is custom­ arily omitted and instead the second letter is doubled. Thus n'i'i? by the omision of the mute n becomes ",.1P and then "'p and K;l becomes :l;!1l whence D"11IlIII �'l­ utterance or speech. Similarly KQ becomes !D or 11:. (1."!VI 1l1ll n11ll?l n11ll : C?ln n?ln : r,y� m n�) . Therefore R. Shlomo was quite correct in interpreting this word as �l, and was wrongly criticised by ibn Ezra, whose knowledge of Hebrew was not profound. It should further be noted that the word nK1:l-prophecy is of general appl ication , and embraces every kind of prophesying, whereas other nouns are more specific and refer to a particular kind of prophesying. This point, I believe, is familiar to all scholars.

Note 2 : 'its professors cannot be called prophets'. That is, interpreters of God. For an in terpreter of God is one who has a revelation of God's decrees which he interprets to others who have not had this revelation, and who accept it solely in rel iance on the prophet's authority and the confidence he enjoys. Now if those who listen to prophets were themselves to become prophets j ust as those who l is­ ten to philosophers become philosophers, the prophet would not be an interpreter of divine decrees; for h is hearers would rely not on the testimony and authority of the prophet but on the divine revelation itself and on their own inward testimony, j ust as the prophet does. Similarly, sovereign powers are the interpreters of their own sovereign right, since the laws that they enact are upheld only by their own sovereign authority, and are supported only by their own testimony.

Note 3: 'that the prophets were endowed with an extraordinary virtue ex­ ceeding the normal'. Although some men possess gifts that nature does not be­ stow on others, they are not said to surpass human nature unless the gifts that are peculiar to them are such as cannot be understood from the definition of human nature. For example, a giant is of unusual size, but his size is still human. It is granted to few to be able to compose poetry extempore, but this is still a human

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gift, as also is the gift whereby someone, while wide awake, imagines certa in things as vividly as if they were actually presen t before him. But if someone were to possess a quite different means of perception and quite different grounds of knowledge, he would assuredly surpass the bounds of human nature.

CHAPTER 3

Note 4: 'Patriarchs'. In chapter 1 5 of Genesis we are told that God said to Abraham that he would be his protector and would give him an exceedingly great reward; to which Abraham replied that he had nothing very much to look forward to, since he was childless and stricken with years.

Note 5: 'their security'. It is clear from Mark ch. 10 v. 21 that to achieve eter­ nal life it is not enough to keep the commandments of the Old Testament

CHAPTER 6

Note 6: 'Since God's existence is not self-evident'. We doubt the existence of God, and consequently everything else, as long as we do not have a clear and dis­ tinct idea of God, but only a confused idea. Just as he who does not rightly know the nature of a triangle does not know that its three angles are equal to two right angles, so he who conceives the divine nature in a confused way does not see that existence pertains to the nature of God. Now in order that we may conceive God's nature clearly and distinctly, we have to fix our attention on certain very simple ax­ ioms called universal axioms, and connect to them those attributes that belong to the divine nature. Only then does it become clear to us that God necessarily exists and is omnipresent, and only then do we see that all our conceptions involve God's nature and are conceived through God's nature, and, finally, that everything that we adequately conceive is true. But for this see the Preface to my book entitled 'The Principles of Philosophy Demonstrated in a Geometrical Manner.'

CHAPTER 7

Note 7: ' impossible to devise a method'. That is, impossible for us who are not used to this language and lack a systematic account of its phraseology.

Note 8: 'conception'. By things comprehensible I mean not only those which can be logically proved but also those which we are wont to accept with moral certa inty and to hear without surprise, although they can by no means be proved. Anyone can comprehend Euclid's propositions before they are proved_ Similarly, I call comprehensible those narratives, whether offuture or past events,

Spinoza'. Supplementary Notes, Chapter 9 575

that do not exceed human bel ief, and likewise laws, institutions and customs, al­ though they cannot be proved with mathematical certa inty. But mysterious sym­ bols, and narratives that exceed all human bel ief, I call incomprehensible. Yet even among these there are many that yield to examination by our method, so that we can perceive the author's meaning.

CHAPTER 8

Note 9: 'Mount Moriah'. Thus named not by Abraham, but by the h istorian, who says that the place which in his day was called ' in the mount of the Lord it shall be revealed' was called by Abraham 'the Lord will provide:

Note 10: 'before David conquered that people'. From this time until the reign ofJehoram, when they gained independence (2 Kings ch. 8 v. 20), the Idu­ maeans had no king. Governors, appointed by the Jews, took the place ofkings ( I Kings ch. 22 v . 47), and therefore the governor o f Edom i s called 'king' ( 2 Kings ch. 3 v. 9). There is some doubt as to whether the last of the Idumaean kings had begun his reign before Saul became king, or whether in th is chapter of Genesis, Scripture intended to list only the kings who were unconquered until their death. However, it is plain folly to attempt to include Moses, who by the divine will es­ tabl ished a Hebrew state very different from monarchy, in the list of Hebrew kings.

CHAPTER 9

Note I i : 'exceptions'. For example, in 2 Kings ch. 1 8 v. 20 the text has the second person, 'Thou hast said- but they are no more than words-etc:, whereas in Isaiah ch. 36 v. 5 we have 'I have said- but they are no more than words- that war needs counsel and courage: Aga in, in verse 22 the text of Kings reads 'But ye may say unto me', the verb being in the plural , whereas Isa iah has the verb in the singular. Furthermore, the words in Kings, same chapter, verse 32, 'a land of oil olive and of honey, that ye may l ive and not die: and hearken not to Hezekiah' are missing in Isaiah. There are many other differences of reading of th is kind, and no one can determine which is to be preferred.

Note 12: 'remarkable change'. For example, in 2 Sam. ch. 7 v. 6 we have ('�"�1 ,Olt:J 1'm!)?;> n�\I�l ) - 'and I have continually wandered with tent and tab­ ernacle'; but in I Chron. ch. 17 v. 5 we have ('�!l!l1 ':>i)lt.'� ':>i)lt?,l n:\I�l ) - 'and I have been from tent to ten t and from tabernacle', with a change of1'1uJ)!l to 'Olt?,1, ,Olt+ to 'Olt-,� and ,�� to 1��. Again in verse 1 0 ofthe same chapter of Samuel we have 'In��,?- to affl ict him', while in verse 9 of the quoted chapter of Chron­ icles we have 'In;';'- 'to wear him down' . For anyone who is not qu ite blind or completely mad a single reading of these chapters will reveal many discrepan­ cies of th is kind, some of considerable importance.

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Note 1 3 : 'the time here mentioned must refer . . . to a quite different time'. That this passage refers to the time when Joseph was sold is not only evident from the context itself but can also be inferred from the age of Judah, who was then in h is twenty-second year at the most, if one may base one's calculation on h is preceding history. From the last verse of Genes is ch. 29 it is clear that Judah was born ten years after the patriarch Jacob began to serve Laban, and Joseph four­ teen years. Now since Joseph was seventeen years old at the time he was sold, Judah could not have been more than twenty-one. So those who believe that Ju­ dah's long absence from home took place before Joseph was sold are seeking to delude themselves, and are more concerned for the sanctity of Scripture than for accuracy.

Note 14: 'while Dinah was scarcely seven years old'_ The opinion advanced by some that Jacob wandered about between Mesopotamia and Bethel for eight or ten years savours of the ridiculous, if I may say so without disrespect to ibn Ezra. Jacob had good reason for haste, not only because he no doubt longed to see his aged parents, but also for a most important purpose, to fulfill the vow he had made when he fled from his brother (Gen. ch. 28 v . 20, ch. 3 1 v. 13 and ch. 35 v. I ) , a vow which God also bade him fulfill, promising to help him to return to h is country. However, if these considerations seem mere conjectures rather than cogent reasoning, let us grant that Jacob, driven by a more mal ignant fate than Ulysses, spent eight or ten or even more years on this short journey. Even so, our objectors cannot deny that Ben jamin was born in the last year of this wan­ dering, that is, according to their view and their theory, when Joseph was fifteen or sixteen or thereabouts; for Jacob parted from Laban seven years after Joseph was born . Now the period of time from Joseph's seventeenth year until the patri­ arch travelled to Egypt does not exceed twen ty-two years, as I have shown in th is chapter. Thus at that point oftime- that is, when he set out to Egypt- Ben jamin was twenty-three or twenty-four years old at the most, at which time, in the early flowering of his l ife, he must have been a grandfather (see Gen . ch. 46 v. 2 1 , and compare with Num. ch. 26 v. 38, 39, 40 and with I Chron. ch. 8 v. I and the verses that follow); for Belah, his firstborn, had already begotten two sons, Ard and Naaman. This is surely no less absurd than to maintain that Dinah was seven years old when she was violated, not to mention the other absurdi ties that are en­ tailed by this manner of arranging h istory. Thus it is clear that unscholarly at­ tempts to solve difficulties produce further difficulties, confusing and clouding the question even more.

Note 1 5 : 'he here begins to relate of Joshua'. That is to say, the terms used and the order of narration differ from those employed in the book of Joshua.

Note 16: 'Othniel, son of Kenaz, was judge 40 years'. Rabbi Levi ben Ger­ son 1 and some others believe that these 40 years, which Scripture declares to have

I [Gersomdes, of Provence, 1 288-1 344, the most outstandmg scholar of hIS age Biblical exegete and philosopher J

Spinoza'. Supplementary Notes, Chapter 9 577

been passed in freedom, should be calculated from the death of Joshua and thus include the preceding 8 years when the people were subject to Cushan Rishathaim, while the following 18 years should be included in the total of the 80 years when Ehud and Shamgar were judges. In the same way, they think that the other years of subjection are always included in the years which Scripture de­ clares to have been passed in freedom. But Scripture expressly computes how many years the Hebrews passed in subjection and how many years in freedom, and in chapter 2 v . 1 8 it expressly tells us that the Hebrews always enjoyed pros­ perity in the time of the Judges. So it is perfectly clear that our Rabbi (in other re­ spects a man of great learning) and the others who follow him, when trying to solve such difficulties, are not so much explaining Scripture as emending it.

This is also true of those who maintain that, in the summation of years which Scripture here makes, only the years of a properly administered Jewish state were taken into account, while the periods of anarchy and subjection , being unhappy interludes in the h istory of the Jewish state, must have been ignored. Now Scrip­ ture does indeed pass over in silence the periods of anarchy, but the years of su b­ jection are narrated quite as fully as the years ofindependence, and are not erased from Jewish history, as is wildly suggested. Ezra -whom we have shown to be the author of these books - in I Kings ch. 6 intended to include in that complete to­ tal all the years from the exodus from Egypt to the fourth year of Solomon's reign, a fact so clear that no biblical scholar has ever doubted it. For, leaving aside for the present the precise wording of the text, the genealogy of David given at the end of the book of Ruth and in I Chron. ch. 2 fa ils to account in full for such a large figure as 480 years. Nahshon was chief of the tribe of Judah in the second year after the exodus (Num. ch. 7 v. I I , 12 ) , and thus died in the wilderness along with all those who at the age of 20 were capable of mil itary service; and his son Salmon crossed the Jordan with Joshua. Now this Salmon, according to the said genealogy, was David's great-great-grandfather. If we subtract from this grand to­ tal of 480 years the 4 years of Solomon's reign, the 70 years of David's l ife and the 40 years spent in the wilderness, we find that David was born 366 years after the passage of the Jordan, and that h is father, grandfather, great-grandfather and great­ great-grandfather must each have begotten children when they were 90 years old.

Note 17: 'Samson was judge'. Samson was born after the Phil istines had sub­ jugated the Hebrews. There is some doubt as to whether the 20 years here men­ tioned should be reckoned among the years of independence, or whether they are included in the immediately preceding 40 years when the people were under the yoke of the Phil istines. For my part, I am of the opinion that it is more probable and more credible that the Hebrews recovered their freedom at the time when the most eminent of the Philistines perished along with Samson. My only reason for refusing to include Samson's 20 years in the period of subjugation to the Philistines is this, that Samson was born after the Philistines had subjugated the Hebrews. There is a further reason, the mention made in the Tractate Shabbat of a certain book of Jerusalem where it is stated that Samson judged the people for 40 years. However, it is not a question of these years alone.

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Note 18: 'with absolute strictness'_ Otherwise, they are not explaining the words of Scripture, but emending them.

Note 19: 'Kirjath Jeharim'. Kirjath Jeharim is also called Baal Judah. Hence Kim�i2 and some others th ink that the words 'Baale Judah', which I have here translated as 'from the people of Judah', signifY the name of a town. But they are wrong, because '7.�: is plural. Moreover, comparing the text of Samuel with the text of I Chron icles, we see that David did not arise and go forth from Baal , but that he went thither. If the author of2 Samuel had intended to indicate the place whence David removed the ark, then the Hebrew would have run as follows: "Then David arose and set forth . . . etc. from Baal Judah, and took from there the ark of God."

Note 20: 'and was there three years'. Some commentators have emended the text as follows: "And Absalom fled and went to Talmai, the son of Ammihud, king ofGeshur, where he remained for three years, and David wept for his son all the time that he was at Geshur." Now if th is is to be called interpretation, and if one can assume such l icence in expounding Scripture, transposing entire phrases, adding to them and subtracting from them, then I declare that it is permissible to corrupt Scripture and to treat it as a p iece of wax on which one can impose what­ ever forms one chooses.

CHAPTER 1 0

Note 2 1 : 'and perhaps after the restoration of the temple by Judas Mac­ cabee'. This possibil ity- though it is more akin to certainty- is based on the ge­ nealogy from king Jeconiah, given in I Chron. ch. 3 and continuing as far as the sons of Elioneai, who were thirteenth in direct line from Jeconiah. It should be observed that Jeconiah had no children when he was imprisoned, but he had two children while in prison , as far as can be conjectured by the names he gave them. Now he seems to have had grandchildren-again making conjecture from their names-after his release from prison; and therefore Pedaiah (which means 'God hath delivered'), who according to this chapter is said to be the father of Zerul>­ babel, was born in the thirty-seventh or th irty-eighth year of Jeconiah's captivity, that is, thirty-three years before Cyrus gave the Jews permission to return. There­ fore Zerubbabel, whom Cyrus put in charge of the Jews, seems to have been thir­ teen or fourteen years old at the most But I have preferred to keep silent on these matters for reasons which our difficult times do not allow me to explain. A word to the wise is enough . If they will peruse with some care the l ist of the descen­ dants ofJeconiah given in I Chron. ch. 3 from verse 17 to the end of the chapter, and compare the Hebrew text with the Septuagint version, they will have no dif­ ficulty in seeing that these books were published after the second restoration of

2 [David Kim�i was a thuteenth-century French JeWish biblical exegete and defender of Maim om des 1

Spinoza's Supplementary Notes, Chapt'T 10 579

the city by Judas Maccabee when the descendants of Jeconiah had lost the throne, and not before then.

Note 22 : 'he would be taken to Babylon as captive'. Thus no one could have suspected that Ezekiel's prophecy con tradicted Jeremiah's prediction, as everyone suspected according to Josephus' narrative. But the event proved them both right.

Note 23 : 'Nehemiah'. The historian himselftestifies in chapter I verse I that the greater part of this book is taken from the book that Nehemiah wrote. But there can be no doubt that the passage from chapter 8 to chapter 12 verse 26, and also the last two verses of chapter 12 inserted as a parenthesis into the words of Nehemiah, were added by the h istorian who lived after Nehemiah.

Note 24: 'Ezra'. Ezra was the uncle of the first h igh priest, Joshua (see Ezra ch. 7 v. I and I Chron. ch. 6 v. 1 3 , 14, 1 5 ) , and accompanied Zerubbabel from Babylon to Jerusalem (see Nehem. ch. 12 v. I ) . But it appears that when he saw the state of confusion among the Jews, he returned to Babylon, as also did some others (Nehem. ch. I v. 2) , and rema ined there until the reign of Artaxerxes when , being granted h is request, he went for a second time to Jerusalem. Nehemiah, too, went with Zerubbabel to Jerusalem in the time of Cyrus. See Ezra, ch. 2 v. 2 and 63, and compare with ch. 10 v. 2 and ch. 12 v. I of Nehemiah. As to the transla­ tion of the word 'Atirshata' by 'ambassador', there is no authority for th is, whereas it is quite certain that those Jews whose duty it was to attend the court were given new names. Thus Daniel was Balteshazzar, and Zerubbabel Sheshbazzar (see Dan. ch. I v. 7, Ezra ch. I v. 8 and ch. 5 v. 14) . Nehemiah was called Atirshata, but by virtue of his office he was termed MIl�- procurator or president. See N& hem. ch. 5 v. 14 and ch. 12 v. 26.

Note 25: 'that no canon of the Sacred Books existed before the Maccabees'. The Synagogue termed 'the Great' did not originate until after Asia had been sub­ jugated by the Macedonians. As to the assertion made by Maimonides, R. Abra­ ham ben David ' and others, that the presidents of the Council were Ezra, Daniel , Nehemiah, Haggai, Zechariah etc . , this i s an absurd fiction, based only on a rab­ binical tradition that the Persian empire lasted no more than 34 years. This is their only way of proving that the decrees of the Great Synagogue or Synod-which was composed of Pharisees only, and whose decrees were rejected by the Sad­ ducees-were transmitted by prophets who had received them from other prophets all the way back to Moses, who had received them from God himself and had transmitted them orally, not in writing. But let the Pharisees cling to their belief with their wonted obstinacy. The wise, being well acquainted with the rea­ sons for councils and Synods and knowing of the quarrels between Pharisees and Sadducees, can easily imagine the reasons for the summoning of that Great Syn­ agogue or Council. This much is certa in, that no prophets took part in that coun­ cil, and that the decrees of the Pharisees, which they call 'traditions', derived their authority from that Council.

3 [Abraham ben DaVid was a twelfth-century Spanish Jewish hlstonan and philosopher Spmoza seems to be refernng to the latter's hIStOrical treatise Serer Ha-Qabbalah (The Book ofTradition).J

580 Theological-Political Treatise

CHAPTER 1 1

Note 26: 'we therefore think'. Translators here render Aoyl�ol1at as 'con­ cludo' -I infer, and they maintain that in Paul's writing the word Aoyl�ol1at is synonymous with cI\)Uoyl�ol1at, whereas in fact the Greek Ao'Yl�ol1at has the same force as the Hebrew �l!II1- to reckon, th ink, consider. This meaning is in full agreement with the Syriac text. The Syriac translation (if indeed it is a translation, which is a matter of doubt since we know neither the translator nor the time of publ ication, and the vernacular language of the Apostles was none other than Syr­ iac) renders this text of Paul as '''''n lJ'Y-v1�', which Tremell ius correctly translates as 'arbitramur igirur' - 'we therefore think'. For the word 'Kl'y-,' which derives from this verb means 'arbitratus' - thinking. In Hebrew 'KJ'Y" is KJ)1lI,) reutha­ 'will'. Therefore the Syriac word means 'we will' or 'we think'.

Note 27: 'the whole of Chris!'s doctrine'. In effect, the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, related in Matthew, chapter 5.

CHAPTER 1 5

Note 3 1 : 'that simple obedience is a way to salvation'. That is, it is not rea­ son but revelation that can teach us that it is enough for blessedness or salvation for us to accept the divine decrees as laws or commandments, and that there is no need to conceive them as eternal truths. This is made clear by what we have demonstrated in Chapter 4.

CHAPTER 1 6

Note 32 : 'promise in all good fa ith'. In a civil state, where what is good and what is evil is decided by the right of the whole community, it is correct to make a distinction between deception with good inten t (dolus bonus) and deception with malicious intent (dolus malus). But in a state of nature, where everyone is his own judge and possesses the perfect right to prescribe and interpret laws for himself and even to repeal them if he thinks this is to his advantage, it is impos­ sible to conceive that anyone can act with malicious intent to deceive.

Note 33 : 'everybody can be free as he wills'. A man can be free in any kind of state, for a man is free, of course, to the extent that he is guided by reason . Now (although Hobbes' thinks otherwise) reason is entirely in favour of peace; but

4 [The only occasIOn in tins work where Hobbes ( 1 588-1 679) IS mentioned by name, although h is influence is clear Spinoza must have carefully studied hiS De Cive. J

Spinoza's Supplementary Notes, Chapt'T 17 58 1

peace cannot be secured unless the general laws of the state are kept inviolate. Therefore the more a man is guided by reason, that is, the more free he is, the more steadfastly he will observe the laws of the state and obey the commands of the sovereign whose subject he is.

Note 34: 'For nobody knows by nature'. When Paul says that men are with­ out means of escape, he is speaking in merely human terms. For in chapter 9 v. 1 8 of the same Epistle he expressly teaches that God has mercy on whom he will and makes stubborn whom he will, and that men are without excuse not because they have been forewarned but because they are in God's power l ike clay in the hands of the potter, who from the same lump makes one vessel to honour and an­ other vessel to dishonour. As for the divine natural law whose ch ief command­ ment, as we have said, is to love God, I have called it a law in the same sense as philosophers apply the term 1aw' to the universal rules of Nature according to which all th ings come to pass. For love of God is not obedience but a virtue nec­ essarily presen t in a man who knows God aright, whereas obedience has regard to the will of him who commands, and not to necessity and truth. Now since we do not know the nature of God's will, while we are qu ite certain that everything that happens comes to pass from God's power alone, it is only from revelation that we can know whether God wishes to receive honour from men l ike some tem­ poral ruler. Furthermore, we have shown that the divine commandments appear to us as commandments or ordinances only as long as we do not know their cause. Once this is known, they cease to be commandments, and we embrace them as eternal truths, not as commandments; that is, obedience forthwith passes into love, which arises from true knowledge by the same necessity as l ight arises from the sun. Therefore by the guidance of reason we can love God, but not obey him; for by virtue of reason we can neither accept divine commandments as divine while not knowing their cause, nor can we conceive God as a ruler enacting laws.

CHAPTER 1 7

Note 3 5 : 'as thereafter to be powerless'. Two common soldiers undertook to make one man Emperor of Rome in place of another, and they succeeded. Tac­ itus, Histories, Book 1 . 5

Note 36: '(Num. ch. I I v. 28)' . I n th is passage two men are accused o f proph­ esying in the camp, and Joshua urges their arrest. This he would not have done if it had been lawful for anyone to deliver God's oracles to the people without Moses' permission. But Moses thought fit to acqu it the accused, and he rebuked Joshua for urging him to assert th is royal right at a time when he was so weary of ruling that he preferred to die rather than continue to rule alone, as is clear from verses 14 and 1 5 of the same chapter. For he replied to Joshua thus: "Enviest thou for

S [A reference to the murder of Cal lgula and tbe accession of Claudius.J

582 Theological·Political Treatise

my sake? Would God that all the Lord's people were prophets!" That is to say, would that the right to consul t God were vested in the entire people, who would thus be sovereign. Therefore Joshua's error lay not in the question of right but in the occas ion of its exercise, and he was rebuked by Moses in the same way as Abishai was rebuked by David when he urged David to condemn to death Sh imei, who was undoubtedly guilty of treason. See 2 Sam. ch. 19 v. 22, 23 .

Note 37: 'See Num. ch . 27 v . 2 1 '. Verses 19 and 2 3 of th is chapter a re mis­ translated in such versions as I have seen . These verses do not mean that Moses gave Joshua commands or instructions, but that he properly constituted or estab­ l ished him as capta in. This turn of phrase is quite common in Scripture, as in Exod. ch. 18 v. 2 3 , 1 Sam. ch. 1 3 v. 14, Josh. ch. 1 v. 9, 1 Sam. ch. 25 v. 30 and elsewhere.

Note 38: 'to recognise any other judge than God'. The Rabbis imagine that what is known as the Great Sanhedrin was instituted by Moses, and many Chris­ tians share in this delusion. Moses did indeed choose seventy colleagues to assist him in the task of governmen� being unable to bear alone the burden of the whole people. But at no time did he enact a law establ ish ing a college of seventy mem­ bers. On the contrary, he commanded that each tribe should appoint j udges in the cities that God had given them, to decide lawsuits in accordance with the laws that he had laid down . If it should happen that the judges themselves were in doubt as to the law, they were to approach the high pries� as being the supreme interpreter of the laws, or the judge who was at that time their superior (for he had the right to consult the high priest) so as to settle the question according to the high priesfs interpretation. If a lower judge should maintain that he was not bound to pass judgment in accordance with the opinion of the h igh priest as re­ ceived from the high priest h imself or from his own superior, he was to be con­ demned to death by whatever supreme judge had appointed him a subordinate judge. See Deut. ch. 17 v. 9. This person might be the commander-in-chief of all Israel, l ike Joshua, or he might be the captain of a single tribe (in whom, after the partition of the land was vested the right of consulting the high priest concerning the affairs of his tribe, of deciding on war or peace, of fortifying cities, of appoint­ ing judges and so on), or he might be the king, to whom all or some of the tribes had transferred their right.

In confirmation I could cite many instances from h istory, but I will confine myself to one of outstanding importance. When the Shilonite prophet appointed Jeroboam king, he thereby gave him the right of consulting the high priest and of appointing judges; in short, Jeroboam held over the ten tribes all the righ t that Re­ hoboam held over two tribes. Therefore Jeroboam could set up a supreme coun­ cil of state at his court by the same righ t by which Jehoshaphat set up his council at Jerusalem (see 2 Chron. ch. 19 v. 8 on). For i t is clear that Jeroboam, insofar as he was king by God's command, and consequently Jeroboam's subjects, were not required by the law of Moses to submit to the jurisdiction ofRehoboam, since they were not his subjects, and fur less to the jurisdiction of the court established by Rehoboam at Jerusalem and subordinate to him. Thus a supreme court was es-

Spinoza's Supplementary Notes, Chapt'T 19 583

tabl ished in each of the separate and independent divisions of the Hebrew state. Those who disregard the varied pol itical arrangements of the Hebrews and fa il to distinguish between them find themselves involved in many difficulties.

CHAPTER 1 9

Note 39: 'and lawfully impeach'. Here particular attention should be paid to my discussion of right in Chapter 1 6.

HEBREW GRAMMAR

In Chapter 7 of the Theological-Political Treatise Spino7Ca indicates that one requirement for interpreting Scripture is a !mowledge of its language, and with regard to the Hebrew Bible, that means a knowledge of Hebrew grammar and more. In fact, Spino.a studied Hebrew all his life and was acquainted with tradi· tional Jewish commentaries on biblical Hebrew as well as grammars of biblical Hebrew and classical Latin, including the famous grammar by J. Buxtorf (the Thesaurus Grammaticus Linguae Sanctae Hebraeae of 1 620) and those by his teachers R. Saul Morteira and R. Mannaseh ben Israel. Probably about the time Spino7Ca was completing the TIP (1 669--1 671) , he began work on his own Hebrew grammar, a work that remained unfinished at his death. In their intro· duction to the Opera Posthuma, Lodewiik Meyer and Johan Bouwmeester explain that Spino7Ca began the grammar "at the request of some of his (riends who very much studied the holy language," among whom was surely Meyer him· self, the author of a famous Dutch diction<l1)' and of Philo sophia sacrae scrip­ turae interpres (Philosophy the Interpreter of Scripture), a controversial treatise published a few years earlier (in 1 666). Like some of his close associates, then, Spinoza deserves to be called a philologist and grammatical scholar as well as a philosopher and a scientist.

In the TTP Spinoza approaches religion and the Bible as a social scientist, and in that work and in the later Political Treatise, his discussion of the state and politics is also {rom a naturalistic point of view. The Hebrew Grammar reveals the same spirit. The Bible may be Spinoza's only evidence for Hebrew as a spoken, natural language used by Jews in biblical antiquity, but his goal is not to reveal the language's character as a sacred or mysterious system. Rather it is to understand its structure as a living language. His is a work "for those who desire to speak Hebrew, and not just chant it."

Spinoza intended the grammar to have two parts. Part I was to set out the let· ters of the Hebrew alphabet and to lay out the forms of verbs, nouns, and other parts of speech. Of special interest here were conjugations, declensions, vocaliza· tion, and so forth. Part II would then give an account of sentence structure, syn. tax, and so forth. Spinoza completed thirty·three chapters of Part I and none of Part II.

The grammar, while indebted to the work of medieval commentators like David Kimchi and recent grammarians like Buxtorf, is rather distinctive. Spi· no.a uses Latin as a model and so forces Hebrew into a Latinate pattern, with

584

Hebrew Grammar 585

coniugations, declensions, and other structures akin to those found in an inf/ected language. He also treats Hebrew as a noun-based language, a peculiar­ ity given the standard tendency to focus on Hebrew's verbal characrer and the centrality of the triliteral TOot in Hebrew grammar. It is likely that Spino.a's grammatical enquiry, then, mirrors the commitments of his philosophical think­ ing overall. It is guided, on the one hand, by his scientific naturalism and, on the other, by his commitment to a priori reasoning akin to that found in geometry­ or, in this case, in Latin, viewed by him as reflecting a pure, a priori structure.

M.L.M.

586 Hebrew Grammar

CONTENTS

I. Of the Letters and Vowels in General 2 . Of the Letters 3. Of the Vowels 4. Of the Accen Is 5. Of the Noun 6. Of the Inflection of Nouns 7 . Of Masculine and Feminine Gender 8. Of the Construct Case of Nouns 9. Of the Twofold Use of the Noun

10. Of the Preposition and the Adverb I I . Of the Pronouns 12. Of the Infinitive Nouns 1 3 . Of the Conjugation 14. Of Verbs 1 5 . Of Passive Verbs 16 . Of Active Verbs 17 . Of Passive Intensive Verbs 1 8. Of the Derivative Active Verb 19 . Of the Derivative Passive Verb 20. Of the Active Reflexive Verbs 2 1 . Of the Passive Reflexive Verb 22. Of Verbs of the Second Conjugation 23. Of Verbs of the Third Conjugation 24. Verbs of the Fourth Con jugation 2 5 . Verbs of the Fifth Conjugation 26. Composite Verbs 27. Verbs of the Sixth Conjugation 28. Verbs of the Seventh Conjugation 29. Verbs of the Eighth Conjugation 30. Of Defective Verbs 3 1 . Another Class of Defectives 32. Concerning Deponent Verbs 3 3 . Of the Nominative Participle

Notice to the Reader 587

NOTICE TO THE READER The Concise Grammar of the Hebrew Language which is here offered to you , kind reader, the author undertook to write at the request of certain of his friends who were diligently studying the Sacred Tongue, inasmuch as they recognized him rightly as one who had been steeped in it from his earl iest youth, was dili­ gently devoted to it for many years afterward, and had achieved a complete understanding of the innermost essence of the language.

All who are acquainted with this great man will cherish and revere this book, although, l ike many of his other works, it is unfinished because of the untimely death of the author. We presen t it to you in its incomplete state, kind reader, because we do not doubt that the author's and our effort will be of great benefit to you and quite worthy of study by you.

588 Hebrew Grammar

C HAPTER 1

OF THE LETTERS AND VOWELS IN GENERAL

Since letters and vowels are the bases of all languages, we must first of all deter­ mine what among the Hebrews is a letter and what is a vowel. A letter is a sign of a sound made by the movement of the mouth that causes a certa in sound to be heard. For example, K signifies that the origin of the sound is heard by the opening of the throat; :l shows the origin of the sound to be heard in the open­ ing of the l ips; l by the end of the tongue and the palate, etc.

A vowel is a sign indicating a certain and determined sound. From which we learn that vowels among the Hebrews are not letters; and therefore among the Hebrews vowels are called souls of letters, and letters without vowels are bodies without souls. Indeed, to make the difference between letters and vowels more clearly intelligible, it is possible to explain it suitably by the exam­ ple of a flute touched by fingers for playing. The vowels are the musical sound of the flute, the letters are the openings touched by the fingers. But enough of this.

C HAPTER 2

OF THE SHAPE, SIGNIFICANCE, NAMES, CLASSIFICATIONS,

AND PECULIARITIES OF THE LETTERS

The Hebrews have twen ty-two letters whose shape and order as they occur among the most ancient scribes is th is:

't!lnT1;'1'l:lK, etc. K A letter no other European language can explain. It indi­

cates, as we have said, the opening of the throat. lis name is Aleph .

Chapur 2

:l b The name is Bet g Gimel ; if it is without a dot it is weak.

'" d Dalet; without a dot it is weak.

;'I h called He. It indicates that the originating sound comes from the deepest part of the throat

Vav and also w; and I believe that it never was pronounced other- wise by the ancients; and also it is not a vowel but a letter indicat- ing that the originating sound is heard in the l ips.

z Zaino

n ch Chet � Tet.

Yod. It indicates that the origin of the sound is heard in the mid- dle of the tongue and the palate and, l ike the , w, the ' i is also sometimes without sound.

::> k Kaf, if it has a dot in the middle; otherwise it has the force of ch or the Greek X .

., Lamed. 1:l m Mem.

n Nun.

0 s Samech . II Ayin.

El p Pe, if it has a dot in the middle; otherwise it has the force of ph. � Is Tsade.

p q Qof. '" T Resh, weak in the middle of a word, harsh in the beginning.

!Ii sh Shin , if the dot is on the right bar; if it is on the left it is the same as Samech.

n th (Thaw) weak; with a dot, however, it has the force of t.

Among all these letters there are five which are written differently in the beginning or the middle of a word and differently at the end of a word, namely �5ll1:l�. So the kaf, when it occurs at the end of a word, its bottom line is elon­ gated thus 1 ; the mem, however, is closed up at the bottom thus c; the remain­ ing three, l ike the �, are lengthened out thus: pn. Finally also the Hebrews for the sake of brevity usually combine the l't and " thus " .

This is the Syriac script, which Ezra preferred over the ancient Hebrew

589

590 Hebrew Grammar

letters, and which the Pharisees superstitiously followed in their holy writings. In reality the authors frequently used other scripts . See Buxtorf, Thesaur. I

Further, the letters were divided by the grammarians for greater usefulness into five classes, namely into gutturals, labials, dentals, l inguals, and palatals. llrTOTIt (ahacha) are called gutturals, "101:1 (bumaph) labials, P:>'l (gichaq) palatals, nl?to, (datlenath) l inguals, 1D1::;OI (.astseTash) dentals.

Every letter in the middle of a word must have either a long or a short or a very short vowel, except these four '1i1lt (ehevi), which are therefore called mutes or quiescents.

Hence it is that when a consonant needs to be doubled between two vowels, it is not actually doubled, but rather the doubl ing is indicated by a dot which is called IDl' dagesh, l ike 'pEl instead of 'ppEl piqqed.

Gutturals occurring between two vowels are unable to be doubled because they indicate a certa in opening of the throat and a form of breathing; thus, l ike the letter H among the Latins, so among the Hebrews gutturals between two vowels may not be doubled. Also the letter 1 T, because it is always weak in the middle of a word, may l ikewise not be doubled, and on that account these five letters 1llrTiIlt never have the dagesh point in them. Next it must be noted that although a dagesh indicates the doubling of letters between two vowels it is not always true in the reverse that every dagesh means the doubling of a letter. The same punctuation is also used to convert the nEl:>'l:1 begadkephat letters from weak into aspirate sounds as we have shown in its place. Finally, a dot at times occurs in the letter rr at the end of a word for reasons which I shall explain in its place, but then it is not called a dagesh, but a P'ElO mappiq.

The letters nEl:>'l:1 at the beginn ing of a word are aspirate, that is, they are "dageshed" unless the last letter of the preceding word is one of the quiescents. For then, generally they are weak, unless the quiescent is a rr with a mappiq, or the preceding word ending in the qu iescent letter has a great accent. Finally, let­ ters of the same organ of speech are often substituted one for the other in the Scriptures, and an l't for an ll, a 0 for a 1 , :1 for El, to for a n, etc. The reason for this, I think, is that the Scriptures were written by men of various dialects, and that now the dialects are not recognizable, namely from which tribe this or that dialect originated. That this language had this in common with the others is sub­ stan tiated by Scripture itself For the Ephraimites everywhere substituted a 0 samech for a rzj, letters which really are from the same organ of speech. Never­ theless, although in Sacred Scripture occasionally one letter is changed for another of the same organ, one may not now follow this example. For if it were otherwise, then the dialects would confuse the language.

Notes by Spmoza are mdlcated by asterISks. Notes by translator Maunce J . Bloom (mam annotator for tillS work) and MIchael L Morgan are mdicated by numerals and appear in brackets. 1. [Johannis Buxtorf, Thesaurus Grammaticus Linguae Sanctae Hebraeae . B�le, 165 1 (fim edI­

tion, 1609), p. 2 .-M.L.M.]

ChapuT 3 591

C HAPTER 3

OF THE VOWELS; TO WIT, OF THEIR SHAPE, NAME, SIGNIFICANCE, AND PROPERTIES

Vowels, as we have said, are not letters among the Hebrews, but, as it were, "souls of letters." Therefore, they are either understood or indicated by punctuations adjoining the letters in this manner:

� If a line is drawn under the letter, this means that the sound heard after the letter is a, which is called a patach nnEl.

� If the line also has a dot, it denotes the composite sound of a and 0 and is called a kametz yq:>.

::l If there are three points, the sound denoted is e, or as many believe, the Greek sound 11, which is called a segol ?ilO.

::l If two dots are placed side by side, it denotes a sound composed of a and i, which is called a tsere ,�.

::l If they are, however, placed one on top of the other, the sound denoted is of a short e and is called a sheva l'tilD.

::l Next, if one dot is placed under a letter, it denotes that the sound to be heard after the letter is i, which is called chirek p,'n .

:J But, if the dot is placed above the top of the letter, the sound denoted is l ike 0 and is called cholem.

::l If three points are under a letter at an obl ique angle leaning toward the left, the sound is l ike upsilon u and it is called kibbutz yi::!p.

1::l Finally, if a letter vav is added having a dot in the middle, the sound denoted is composed of 0 and u, l ike the Greek U, and is called a shuTek p'ilD.

The diphthong ai is indicated by a patach and a yod after it, l ike 'i�' debaTai, unless there is a great accent, of which more in the following chapter. The diph­ thong au is indicated by a kametz • followed by a yod and a vav, l ike i'l�' debao Tau, and also with a patach, l ike ij;> kau (a l ine); Portuguese Jews,! however, usually pronounce it debaTav. Finally, eu is expressed with a vav after a tsere, l ike i':>t\i shaleu. Whether in addition they had others I am not able to say for certa in,

1 . [Splnoza calls Portuguese Jews Lusltaman Jews after the anCient name of the area .-M.J .B . ]

592 Hebrew Grammar

because for the most part we are ignorant of the manner of pronunciation of the ancienls.

Every vowel sound is always heard after the letter, except if one of the three gutturals llniT occurs at the end of a word after a Isere, a chirek or a cholem, or a shurek. For then it is punctuated with a patach which is sounded before the letter and which is on that account usually called by the grammarians a furtive patach, l ike 1;00 shomeahg, ;:ri� gaboah, 1J1n� patuach, etc.

Usage frequently requires that some letters between two vowels should be dou­ bled for certa in reasons; and we have already sa id that this doubl ing is denoted by inserting a dagesh point into the letter to be doubled; and frequently it happens that the letter which the usage of the language requires to be doubled is one of the gutturals which cannot be doubled, as we have indicated in Chapter 2 . There­ fore, when that occurs, the preceding vowel is changed in this manner. If the antecedent vowel of the guttural letter to be doubled is a patach - , then the dagesh point which should be inserted into a guttural letter is placed under the patach - and it becomes a kametz , , l ike ,:i1lliJ, ha'ober in place of ,:r1lliT; but in nouns before a n and an II the patach is changed into a segol l ike mm he 'anan in place oflWiT. If it is a chirek, then the dot is added to it and it becomes a Isere l ike eiJo mehem in place of eGo. Finally, if the vowel kibbutz precedes the gut­ tural letter to be doubled, it is changed into a cholem i or into a shurek t But this is not universal; sometimes it rema ins unchanged; indeed the letter 1 after a kibbutz can be doubled. And hence it is clear why the vowels kametz ' , Isere , segol , cholem i, and shurek 1 never occur before a doubled letter between two vowels- that is, before a dagesh point, which serves as double letters.

Vowels are properly divided in to long and shor� namely, a patach _ is a short a, but a kametz , is both a long and a short vowel. It has the significance of either a long a or a short 0, l ike iT1P�, pakedah where each is a long a, l ike 'l'� gomi, where the kametz under the gimel is pronounced l ike a short o. A segol is short, whereas a Isere is long, and a sheva is the shortest vowel; but a chirek " if it is followed by a quiescent yod, is a long i; otherwise, it is shor� a cholem i is a long 0 and it generally has with it a qu iescent vav and occasionally a iT or an It A kibbutz is short and, finally, a shurek 1 i s long.

I know that this kind of division displeases Rabbi Abraham de Balmes,2 but without any reason; for that usage has established it to be so is evident from the following; the first th ing that comes to mind is that a letter which is usually sup­ plied by a dagesh may also be compensated by changing the preceding syllable from a short into a long one, even though the letter to be doubled is other than a guttural , l ike '?iTiT hethel for '?niT hitthel or '?miT hiththel.

The vowel sheva , because it is the shortest, is sometimes hastened over and adheres to the preceding syllable and sometimes is pronounced; the former nl is called by the Hebrew grammarians Nach quiescent (silent sheva), and the latter III Na' mobile (moving sheva).

2. [Abraham Ben Meir de Balmes ( 1440-1 523), author of the well-known grammar "Mlkneh Abraham:']

Chapur 3 593

A sheva is pronounced when it occurs at the beginning of a word, or in the middle after a long vowel, l ike n'IDIt':J bere.hith, where the sheva under the :J is pronounced, because it occurs at the beginning of the word; also like the fol­ lowing, because they occur in the middle of a word after long vowels, namely n'R� pakedah; 1:1':J berechu; 11t'" yireu; C" P151 pokedim; 11t:l1n hubeu. If on the other hand, two shevas follow each other consecutively, the second is pro­ nounced as in the word "'PElr-l, tiphkedu, where the first sheva is silent and the second is pronounced. And hence it is that a sheva noted under a letter punctu­ ated by a dagesh is also to be pronounced, l ike 1'PEl pikkedu. For the point in the p denotes that the p is doubled and the first one is silenced. And for the same reason also a sheva is pronounced when one letter is in the middle of a word, but is not doubled between two vowels, l ike 'lliT hineni, where the sheva under the first l is pronounced. For if it had been silenced, then the l also would have been silenced and would have to adhere to the preceding syllable, and in place of'lliT hineni, i t would have been written 'liT hinni.

For the rest, the remaining shevas are always silenced, and it should be espe­ cially noted that we expressly stated that every sheva which is pronounced occurs either at the beginning or in the middle of a word. But at the end it is never pronounced.

That it may be better understood, let this be noted, that every sheva is an absolute vowel which cannot be heard but must always adhere either to the pre­ vious or succeeding vowel; and so it is that no monosyllable is punctuated by a sheva. Hence it is apparen t that a silent sheva is nothing more than the shortest e, adhering to the preceding syllable; however, the pronounced sheva is nothing else than the shortest e adhering to the following syllable; that is why when it is found before a syllable it is on that account to be pronounced even more dis­ tinctly. Whence it follows that in the beginning of a word it is impossible to adhere to the preceding syllable. At the end, on the other hand, it is impossible to adhere to the following syllable; and what is more, at the end of a word a dagesh is always silenced, whether after a long syllable or after a short one, whether under a dageshed letter or under a weak one, and finally, whether only one or two occur together.

However, when it happens that a sheva occurs in the middle of a word after a long syllable, the rule of pronunciation requires that it adhere to the succeeding; and if there should be two shevas then the first adheres to the preceding and the second to the succeeding syllable. Further, it is also evident why at the beginning of a word there are never two shevas and also not in the middle after a long syl­ lable. For two shevas cannot adhere to a succeeding syllable.

Gutturals do not have a pronounced sheva , and they rarely have a silent sheva; but instead they have three intermediate vowels, between the short and the shortest, which are thus designated · ,. , and are called C'Elt!llJ chaf£{im. The first denotes a vowel shorter than a patach; the second a vowel shorter than a short kametz or a short 0; the third, finally, midway between a segol, short e, and a shortest sheva; and these are distinguished from shevas in that they never occur before a simple sheva, and that they not only do not follow one after the other in

594 Hebrew Grammar

the beginn ing, but also not in the middle and not at the end of a word; in the rest, however, they agree with all shevas, and also in th is, that they do not occur alone, nor do they have an accent under them.

These are the main regulations to be observed with respect to vowels, and we especially reiterate the rule about shevas, namely that two shevas never occur at the beginning of a word, and that gutturals never have a pronounced sheva under them, and rarely a silent one. For their usage is remarkable.

C HAPTER 4

OF THE ACCENTS

The rules which are usually transmitted concerning the accents are more of a hindrance than an aid to students of the Hebrew language. They should be tol­ erated only if they facilitate a proper understanding of the pronunciation of the language. But if you should consult the experts they would all be forced to admit that they do not know the reason for so great a number of accents. But to me it seems that there is a valid reason for it. At first I was strongly of the opinion that their inventor introduced them not only for the raising and the lowering of the voice and to adorn speech but also to indicate animated expression, which is usu­ ally produced by a change of voice, by the expression of the face, the movement of the body, the spreading of the hands, the winking of the eyes, the stamping of the feet, a curve of the mouth, a motion of the eyel ids, spreading of the l ips, and the various other gestures which aid a speaker to make clear h is thoughts to h is hearers. One tone of the voice expresses irony while another tone indicates sim­ plicity. There is a tone in which we praise someone, another in which we express admiration, still another for vituperation, and yet another for mockery. Thus we change our voice and expression for every emotion. Nevertheless the originators of the letters in all languages fa iled to indicate these expressions in the written forms of speech. This is due to the fact that we can express our meaning much better orally than in writing. I suspected that the originator of the accents in the Hebrew language wanted to correct this fault But when I examined the matter further I was unable to find this to be true. Indeed they succeeded rather to con­ fuse not only these animated emotions but also speech itself. There is no dis­ tinction when the Scriptures speak ironically or when with simplicity and the same accent has different meanings in the composition of the parts of speech, and it also has the properties of a punctuation mark, and of a semicolon and of a double punctuation. So that it would seem that there is still a lack of accents with all the great number of them . Therefore I now believe that their introduc­ tion came after the Pharisees introduced the custom of reading the Bible in pu b-

Chapur 4 595

l ic assemblies every Sabbath in order that it should not be read too rapidly (as is usually done in the repeti tion of prayers). And for th is reason I shall leave the minute regulations about them to the Pharisees and Massorites, and mention here only that which seems to have some purpose.

The accent serves to separate or join language and also to raise or depress a syllable. There is no accent indicating the end of a verse or a clause. These two points: f11$� usually indicate a sign which is called a P17'O siluk, and generally, not always, as we have already shown, it declares the statement to be completed . ! Bu t the parts of single sen tences a re separated by accents; and I understand these "parts of sentences" to consist of not only verbs but also cases of the noun. To be sure, the accen t which here and there has the property of a comma is used also to separate the nominative and the verb from the accusative, and from the other cases. Understand, when the accusative follows the nominative; therefore, if the accusative is placed between the verb and the noun, then the verb, the accusative, and the nominative constitute only one part of the verse and are l ike two verbs which are united and joined together, and they have no other noun except the nominative case put between them. And if a verse has only one part to be separated it is separated by an accent which is called l't1!1ti1 tarcha, which is denoted below the letter thus :J. But if it has two parts to be divided, then the first is denoted by a l't1!1ti1 tarcha: the second also has an accent which is called nln� athnach, which is denoted under the letter thus fT like o:;r�; and th is accen t is preeminent among all which separate sentences into parts, as will become clear from what follows. A sentence may have only one athnach, except only rarely it may have two. But if a verse should have three parts to be divided, then the first is denoted by a l'tn1t!1 tarcha, the second by an mnl't athnach, and the th ird aga in by a l'tmt!l tarcha. If it has four, however, the first is generally denoted by two dots above the word, l ike l't1!i7 deshe, which accent is usually called lit!li? "lP! zakef katon, the second l'tn1t!1, the third mnl't and the fourth again l'tn1t!1. Further, if in a sentence five parts are to be separated, then the first generally should be denoted by a dot above the word which is called ll':Jl rabi'a, l ike I:l':i'il't, the second by a lit!lP "lpl, the third by a l'tn1t!1 , the fourth again by a mnl't, and the fifth by a l'tmt!l . Finally, if there are six, then the first is a ll':J1 , the second l1t!1P "lpl, the third l'tn1t!1 , the fourth mnl't, the fifth again ]1t!1p "lpl, and finally the sixth l'tn1t!1. And in th is manner, when still more parts which should be separated occur, many other signs are usually adduced, but the properties of l1t!1P "lpl and the ll':J1 are plainly similar; and they therefore often also displace one another; but I will refrain from speaking of these, as also of those which only serve to indicate an accent which is part of a phrase in which there are as a con­ sequence of the divisions, some of these which are for this reason called by the grammarians seTVit ... But it should be pointed out that the l'tn1t!1 serves not only to divide parts of sentences but also to indicate a p17'O and an m�. For after a l't1!1ti1 no dividing accent may follow except an mnl't or a P1'i'O and contrarily

I. [We call thIS So{Pasuk I

596 Hebrew Grammar

there is no rilnl't or P''''O which is not preceded by a l'tn1t!! , the reason for which we will tell presently. A word that has no accent either above or below is usually j oined with the succeeding word by a straight line which the grammarians call a "lpo 71Ulkaf, l ike :1it!l-':;) ki-tob.

Next, the accents serve, as we have sa id, both to elevate and depress a sylla­ ble. As we have already shown in these very examples, they should be placed either above or below the letter of the word whose vowel is to be elevated or depressed. Thus in l't!1,l;r the l 't!!P "lP' is above the 1 because it is pronounced deshe and not deshe; on the other hand c'ri� has the ll":11 above the n because it is pronounced elohfm and not el6him. Every word whose accent is below or above its last syllable is called l1'"l�O millera', which means from below; if, how­ ever, it is above or below the penultimate, it is called "'l1�O mille'el, which means from above. But when a siluk is denoted neither below nor above but after a word, as also a makaf, then on that account the word before the siluk and makaf is denoted by a small line below it, namely under the syllable in which the accent should have been, l ike r11t1iJ haaretz, where, before the siluk, under the 1$ there is a small line indicating that the accent should have been under the kametz. So also '1B-niDi! 'oseh-p.,; has a l ittle l ine, before the "lpo, under the 11, indicating that the cholem should be stressed. This line is usually called a l't'!11' ga'ya. It is not used, however, if the word before the makaf has only one vowel, l ike :1it!l-':;).

Polysyllables usually have two accents. One is either in the ul timate or penul­ timate, indicated as we have shown by whether the word is mille'el or millera'; the other is in the antepenultimate or its antecedent, indicating the syllable to be stressed, l ike c'::ll?i�iJ q:l" "ir,D. And this accent is frequently a ga'ya, appearing almost always before a composite sheva. Further, you will observe not rarely that polysyllables have three accents, l ike 1n?1;?'i.

Moreover, in order to know which syllables should be stressed or lengthened, or where words should be marked by two or three accents, these rules should first be observed, namely: all vowels before a pronounced sheva are marked with a l't:11, ga'ya (of which I spoke in the previous chapter), that is, it is lengthened somewhat the better to know that the sheva which follows it belongs to the fol­ lowing syllable whence it follows that every vowel before a compound sheva, be it a short or a long vowel, should be marked with this accen� l ike nrvl1,l. For a compound sheva can never be silenced, that is, it belongs not to the preceding but to the succeeding syllable. Next, it follows that a long vowel before a simple sheva should be stressed or it should be marked with this accent, so that it will be clearly understood that the sheva was not lost from it but belongs to the suc­ ceeding syllable. Hence, C'10iji, 1l't:11(1, n';lR�, 1:l1:;J are marked with the accent l't:l1l ; and also 'llil, al though it is short, yet on account of the succeeding sheva its pronunciation is lengthened. But although a sheva under a dageshed letter should also be pronounced, nevertheless, the vowel preceding it is not marked with a ga'ya unless the letter to be doubled is one of those which do not admit a dagesh point, or may not be doubled, of which see Chapter 2; and I suppose that this is because a dagesh means that the first of the doubled letters (the

Chapur 4 597

assumed letter) belongs to the preceding vowel, its sheva having been swallowed up with it; and what is more a vowel before a sheva under a dageshed letter should be considered l ike a vowel which is followed by two shevas, the first of which, as we have said above, should be silent, and the second pronounced, or the first of which should belong to the preceding, and the second to the suc­ ceeding syllable.

Next, if a vowel after any sheva requires to be lengthened then the vowel before the same sheva is lengthened; and this rule is always true, whether the sheva is expressed or assumed; for example, '<l1l�lT, since the patach after the simple sheva should be lengthened on account of the composite sheva after it, for the same reason also the patach before the same simple sheva is lengthened. Thus also 1it)!JIZi'.1 , 1'it)� n�, etc. , for th is very same reason have two ga'yas each. And I say the same is true when a sheva is assumed, l ike n'\T!;lp, where under each 1:l there is a ga'ya because it should be read n'01;lop the kametz indeed does have a sheva before it, which is compensated by the dagesh point, and, because of the composite sheva following it, it should be lengthened. The vowel before this sheva that is compensated by a dagesh point is also lengthened. So "1?i;t'i, "1Zil/i;liJ, mtTi;I;;t, "'Jl1.'iJ, and many others of this type are denoted by a doubling of the ga'ya.

Two long vowels without an accent or a ga'ya in the same word are not to be found. If indeed the penultimate and antepenultimate syllables should be long, or if an accent should be necessary in the antepenultimate, or if in the ultimate, then the antepenultimate will have a ga'ya, l ike '?ll$ whose kametz is lengthened when the accent is in the ultimate, otherwise, namely when the accent is in the penultimate, it is omitted, l ike ':li� 11; thus 'l;i11:l'�lT1, I:l"'l't'ipl, 1:l':J�1:PlT, etc . , have a ga'ya in the antepenultimate; but if a word should have many long vow­ els it will always be observed that no two long vowels occur without either an accen t or a ga'ya, l ike 1:l:l'n1!,1:Jtq:l.

And this should be noted, a kibbutz sometimes replaces a shurek, and then it should be considered as long, l ike 'n-l';JIZi1:l where, because the shurek of the noun "-l'1:J1Zi has been changed into a kibbutz, the kibbutz is lengthened l ike a long vowel; otherwise it is always short.

Nex� it should be noted that a short vowel to which a sheva adheres is to be considered as a long one, l ike ;:rt;l�11:l 'n'711,l, etc . , where a long before a short, to which a sheva adheres, is lengthened, l ike a long before a long, which does not have an accent; thus also the two first vowels in 1�''1'' are long because a sheva adheres to each, the first being expressed and the latter, however, com­ pensated by the dagesh in the ::> . Short vowels are excepted when they frequently replace a simple sheva so that no two should occur at the beginning of a word, as we have already pointed out in Chapter 3 , for example, the first vowel in 1'PEln is short because it is in place of a short sheva, because it usurps the place of a sheva. I t happens then that a short vowel before a short vowel is lengthened because the second short is put in place of a compound sheva to wh ich, as we have sa id, a ga'ya always antecedes, l ike 1" 1).;1, because it is written in place of 1" r:);1.

598 Hebrew Grammar

Finally, a 1 vav before a ' yod with a - patach is denoted variously, with and without a ga'ya, l ike 1:;J'J�1 and 1:;J'J').

And these are the principal rules of this accent as far as it is possible to know them from the vowels alone. There still remains another to be recognized con­ cerning the prepos ition , which we will expla in in its place.

For the rest, I do not have anything to say about the fact that the Jews, because of the musical accent -, which they call a zarka, now bring in a ga'ya into the syllable antecedent to it, because it is not followed by those who either wish to speak Hebrew or to chant it.

This, however, should be noted, that frequently another accent is put in place of a ga'ya; indeed, some words have two accents. And one of their syllables is lengthened, which would otherwise not be lengthened because of the preced­ ing rules.

And th is, I say, therefore, is because two different accents which should pre­ cede servile accents follow one another alternately only rarely; for example, after an athnach a siluk does not follow immediately, and not a l;t!lj? "lP! and vice versa after a siluk only most rarely will a zakefkaton follow, and not an athnach. But if the word which follows one of these accents has to have one of them, then at that place two accents are denoted, and one usually lengthens its syllable, how­ ever, it would otherwise not be lengthened, l ike Isaiah chap. 7 , vs. 1 8, C'l�O :1ir i1";;:1"'171 where il');:1"171, because of the zakefkaton , has another accent over the ?, its syllable being lengthened contrary to the general rule, on account of the preceding athnach. Thus also Numbers chap. 28, vs. 20 and 28 C�r:rlCl , because it follows immediately after a siluk, has two accents, and the vowel below the 0, contrary to the general rule, is lengthened; and also Deuteronomy chap. 1 2 , vs. 1 C'b:�-?:;> i'I�1!i1? And for this reason , also, Deuteronomy chap. 1 3 , vs. 12 , 'iIc";liD'-?:;>1 contrary to the general rule of the makaf, an accent is put above ?:;>; and in this manner many examples are found and many more of them where the ga'ya is changed into an accent for one reason or another.

Finally, it should be noted that among the dividing accents there is one which is called lC1;lii? kadma, which is always denoted above the end of a word in this manner C'?·1lli:l and in th is way is it indeed differentiated from another of the serviles which is called IC,?� azla, which is always denoted above the syllable in which the accent should be. If then the word accented by this 1C1;l'P should be denoted as mille'el, it needs another accent which indicates that the accent should be in the penultimate; l ike C'"]: , in case that this accent should be denoted, over the dalet the accent 1C?11C should also be denoted so that it will be known that the word is mille'el ?ll7r.l . .

In addition to this, I have found another reason why a word may be denoted by a dual accen� namely when a millera' word, for reasons I shall mention later, reverts to a mille'el, l ike the syllables before being held, the accent remains in the ultimate, and the penultimate where there should also be an accent is denoted by another accent But this rule is plainly useless for the second accent is of no use whatever.

Chapur 5 599

And now it is time to show which words have an accent in the ul timate and which in the antepenultimate, that is, which should be '7'l1';C and which l1j';C; but since this cannot be discerned from vowels and letters alone, I shall postpone the matter until I shall come to the verbs. Here I will add only this, namely that the athnach and the siluk often render words which are mil/era' into mil/eel. That is to say when their syllables, both ul timate and antepenultimate, are long, as when :jl1,C is designated by accent athnach or siluk, it can be rendered '7'l1';C, l ike '�il\t n· But if the penultimate should be a sheva wh ich, as we have already said, never has an accent, then the verbs change the . into a kametz and nouns into a . . Thus, if1'8� is denoted with an athnach the sheva under the p changes into a , and it becomes 1'��; but, in place of "'ll:ll!i , if it has an athnach, it is "'IpiZi. In participles of the feminine gender, however, it changes into both a segol and a kametz; and this also happens when the accent should be )it!lj? �p! .

Next, it should be noted that the accent athnach and the siluk destroy the properties of a dividing accent befure them and, as it were, snatch them away. Whence it is that the only dividing accent which may precede these two accen ts is a tarcha which, therefore, indicates that an athnach or siluk follows and which also, therefore, does not have the properties of a dividing accent; for it does not render the words '7'J1';c and it can often be followed by a zakefkaton or another dividing accent and it may be followed immediately after itself by an athnach or siluk. Wherefore, with what we have said above, that two dividing accents do not follow themselves immediately, it is understood concerning all except the ItIJ,t:I which, as we have sa id, has lost on that account the dividing properties of an ath­ nach and siluk.

C HAPTER 5

OF THE NOUN

Among the Latins speech is divided into eight parts, but it is doubtful if among the Hebrews it is divided into so many parts. For all Hebrew words, except for a few interjections and conjunctions and one or two particles, have the force and properties of nouns. Because the grammarians did not understand this they con­ sidered many words to be irregular which according to the usage of the language are most regular, and they were ignorant of many things which are necessary to know for a proper understanding of the language. Whether they resolved that Hebrews had as many parts of speech as the Latins or less, we will, however, refer to all of them, excepting, as we have sa id, only the interjections and con junc­ tions, and one or two particles, as nouns. The reason fur this and to what extent this makes the language easily understood will become clear from the following.

600 Hebrew Grammar

I shall now explain what I understand by a noun. By a noun I understand a word by which we sign ify or indicate something that is understood. However, among things that are understood there can be either things and attributes of things, modes and relationships, or actions, and modes and relationships of actions. Hence, we sum up easily the various kinds of nouns. For example, the noun IZi'K is a man; c;>O learned, I,.,,� big, etc . , are attributes of a man; l"h walk­ ing, lJ,,' knowing are modes; 1':;J between, nlJ':! under, "lJ above, etc . , are nouns which show the relationship a man has to other things. Thus l\"v walking is a noun of action which has no relationship to time. Th is must here be noted: the mode which the Latins call infinitive is among the Hebrews a pure unadulter­ ated noun, and therefore an infinitive knows nothing about present, nor past, nor any time whatever. Next "1"0 quickly is a mode of motion; Ci'i] today, '01;1 tomorrow, etc . , are relationships of time which also express other modes.

There are then six kinds of nouns: 1. The substantive noun, which is divided into the proper and the common, as noted. 2 . The adjective. 3 . The relative or preposition. 4. The participle. 5 . The infinitive. 6. The adverb. To these the pro­ noun is added because it takes the place of the substantive noun, l ike 'l� I, "t;I� thou, K1" he, etc.

For the rest, however, this should be poin ted out: that by means of a proper substantive noun it is possible to indicate only a single individual , for each and every individual has a proper noun for h imself only and so every action; and thence it is that the proper substantive noun and that the infinitive and the adverb, because they are l ike adjectives of action, with which they agree in num­ ber, are expressed only in the singular. The rest, however, are expressed both in the singular and plural. I say "the rest" for prepositions also have the plural num­ ber, of which see Chapter 1 0. Next, people, and especially the Hebrews, are accustomed to grant all things human attributes, l ike the earth hears, is attentive, etc . , and perhaps for this or another reason all names of th ings are divided into masculines and femin ines. But how to recognize this and for what reason a noun is inllected from the single number into the plural we shall speak of in the fol­ lowing chapter.

C HAPTER 6

OF THE INFLECTION OF NOUNS FROM SINGULAR INTO PLURAL

Nouns are inllected from singular into plural in the masculine by adding a long chirek and C, and in the feminine a long 0 and n. For example, 1� a garden, because it is in the masculine gender, has the plural C'l�. So from yl1 a tree, n�

Chapur 6 60 1

a brother, it is C'�l', c'n/:!; but, nil't a sign, because it is in the feminine gender, has the plural ninil't, and so 'l a candle, ni'l , and ,ill a skin, ni,ill, etc . Certain things are excepted which, although masculines, are inllected l ike feminines in the plural and contrarily feminines which are inllected l ike mascul ines, and cer­ tain things which are inllected in both ways, l ike ni� fathers from the singular :JI,( a father, which is in the masculine gender. Contrarily, C'tDl women is a fem­ inine noun which lacks a singular and ends l ike a masculine; but ?�'n a temple ends both ways, namely C'?�'n and ni?�'n. Further, it is noted of neuter nouns that they are decl ined l ike feminines, l ike ni?i'l.

The second reason why vowels are modified is the presence of three long vow­ els in a word which, if it is not 'i'l1?O, must therefore have two accents; more­ over, the penultimate syllable that precedes ch irek and cholem cannot be punctuated by patach unless the word is milleel, etc . The catalogue of all these nouns is found at the end of the book; 1 decided that it was not worth the bother to put them here, for they are learned more easily through usage than by rules.

Next, nouns which end in a 01, whether they are masculine or feminine, omit the n and 01 with the last syllable, l ike n?-\, a leaf. plural O'?-\" and n:;tpl a female ni:Jpl , n!(il't a woman nirz:il't. It should be noted that the feminine ending in a 01 frequently changes the 01 into 01 and the preceding two syllables into twin segols

, or, if it is accented athnach or siluk, into a kametz • and a segol . Thus nlt!ll' a crown becomes nlt;ll', and with the athnach or siluk n1t,'1l'. Also from n'JpiEl visiting i t becomes nlpie and mf,',e . But if the penultimate letter is n or ll, then the syllables are changed into patach, l ike nllr;lTli hearing and nlJj:tl fleeing, in place of n-\,oiD and nlJ':;l. This also takes place with substantives, like nlJ�� . Whence it is that all feminine nouns of this form that end in 01 are inllected in to plurals in the same manner as those which end in n.

In addition to th is, nouns generally also change vowels in the plural ; namely, if the penultimate should be a • kametz it is generally changed into a sheva, l ike ':;t;r a word C,,:;t, words, 1P! an elder C'lPT elders, 1J1:li!' a joyful one c'noi!1 joyful ones, 'Pt a pure one C'Pl pure ones, pinl a distant one C'pin, distant ones, 11'f a blessed one C';:'1':1 blessed ones. Thus the penultimate kametz • (for example: 1i'fT a memory and 1i''l'� a volume) is changed into a sheva and becomes nili';:'T, and C'li'?l But if the ultimate should be a kametz or a monosyllabic noun, then the . generally remains unchanged or sometimes changes into a patach; l ike :J�i:;) a star c':J�i:;) stars, 'f\' a prince C" i!' princes, C; a sea 0'0; seas, 1r;"tD a rose C'll!iitD roses. To these, also, should be referred those which end in a 01 because in the plural, as we have already said, they omit the last syllable together with the 01 and they should change exactly l ike monosyllables or l ike those whose last syl­ lable is a kametz; example: nlf\' a field, 0Tli? a reed, etc . , because they omit the segol with the 01 in the plural follow the rule of monosyllables, and retain the . in the plural, namely ni,i!' {ields, and C'li? reeds; and so also n�7or;l a kingdom, because it omits the ultimate . with the 01 in the plural it retains the penul timate in the plural, l ike those whose ultimate is a . and is inllected ni;:'70r;l kingdoms. For this reason also those which end in a 01 reta in in the plural the penultimate " l ike n1l7in a worm c'l1'?in worms; indeed, although the last syllable is not

602 Hebrew Grammar

omitted, the kametz " however, remains, l ike n',! an angle ni" ! angles, n'c,\? a companion c'n'c,\? companions, m?l a captivity ni'?l captivities.

The penultimate !sere also changes into a sheva, but before a cholem and a shurek it is retained, as :!l11 a grape C':Jl� grapes changes the !sere into a sheva; but 1i?l-t retains the !sere and is inflected C'li?l't. Further, a noun whose last vowel is a !sere changes it into a sheva if the vowel antecedent to it is one of those which are always retained in the plural or which are not changed into a , l ike ?pr,l a stick ni?pr,l sticks, ,pi!l a visiting C" pi!l visitings, '111 a blind man C" 111 blind men, but after a sheva or a syllable which is changed into a sheva, the !sere is retained l ike 1p! an elder C'lpl elders, :Jl'tl a wolf C':J1!1 wolves, etc.

Monosyllables and disyllables which end in a il or a n reta in the !sere, l ike 'l a candle ni'l candles, ,11 a witness C',l1 witnesses, ill1' a friend C'l1, friench, il7� a question ni?l-t!D questions.

Besides this there are certa in monosyllables whose !sere is changed into a chirek, but these we are reserving for the catalogue together with the other spe­ cial exceptions promised at the end of the book.

A penultimate segol changes into a sheva but an ultimate into a kametz, that is because all nouns in plural are mil/era' and all those whose penul timate is a segol are mille'el. And so, if the second segol were reta ined in the plural , then the accent would have to be in the penultimate contrary to common usage in the plural. For this reason, then, from 1'?9 a king it is C':l7C kings, 1:Jl't a stone C'l� stones, pl� justice nipl� justices, n�l a sacrifice C'n�l sacrifices, ill;lOl a consolation niCOl consolations, l-tt!ln a sin C'l-tt;ln sins, ,p!i a morning C" i?:;J mornings. And this change of the ul timate segol into a kametz and the penulti­ mate into a sheva is plainly an analogue. We have indeed shown that polysylla­ bles which end in a il frequently change the il into a n and the vowels into double segol, l ike nlt;ll1 into n)�l1; illp£l into mp!l. Next, as in the preced­ ing case, th is too, is to be noted, that a noun which ends in a il or a n since both the il and the n of the ul timate syllable are left out in the plural, the penulti­ mate segol obtains the nature of the ul timate and is changed into a " except for those whose penultimate segol is really used in place of a sheva, as are all par­ ticiples and the nouns formed from them. E.g. , nlp!l in place of il7p9 and nl,?in in place of il,?in are used because of the athnach or siluk accent; but in the plu ral they again receive a sheva, l ike ni'p" !l , ni,?i.., . Finally, a penul ti­ mate segol to which a sheva is j oined cannot be changed into a sheva for no two shevas should occur in the beginning of a word; and on that account it is either reta ined in the plural or changed into a patach, l ike :J11Vl-t a lattice C':!lIVl-t1 lat­ tices, il�'C a chariot ni�'r,l chariots. When a c?h cholem comes before a segol it changes into a sheva, l ike ,p!i a morning in the plural C" i?:;J, ?ilK a tent C'?i)I$, etc. Certain ones are excepted, of which in the catalogue; and in addition certain ones are monosyllables which occasionally change it into a kametz l ike ci' a day C'C; days plural, tDlC' a head C'IVl-tl heads, but more often the cholem is reta ined, for 'il a tribe has the plural C'il and ,.,l-t a light

1. [So Spmoza bas the plural, but it sbould be O"�� In the plura! . ]

Chapur 6 603

0'1il'(, etc.2 and as in those which end in n and have a double segol, l ike nlpi!l. A patach nowhere is changed in the plural unless before a " l ike 1': wine nil'� wines, n'l an olive o'n'l olives. Also nlv:;! is in the plural ni1iJ:l.

The chirek always remains unchanged, except for those to which we referred in the preceding rules which omit it in the plural and besides this a very few nouns which are referred to in the catalogue. And I speak here only of the chirek proper but not of the one which is placed at the beginning of a word before a sheva for the reason that two shevas should not occur in the beginning. They are recognized from the fact that they have a paragogic i"I at the end, namely i"ll01'( a saying used in place ohck and so in the plural it is ni1�. So also i"I-\,01 a tear, because it is substituted for ll91, is in the plural n·'111?1. For, as we have already shown, an ultimate segol is changed into a kametz , and an ultimate , kametz in the plural should be reta ined; but a penultimate cholem and are changed into a sheva.

The kibbutz and shurek are never changed in the plural; however, the shurek has this to be noted, that words ending in n1 do not always drop the shurek in the plural like the remaining nouns ending in a i"I and n, which always, as we have said, drop the ultimate syllable in the plural. For m:l71;l kingdom is in the plural n" '1:l71;l and ml\T a shop n·" llQ.

Finally, a sheva cannot change for any other reason than that no two shevas should occur at the beginning. For we see in the majority of cases that the changes are from long into short vowels. However, the fact that '1El fruit is in the plural ni15l and '7::> a vessel 0'7::> shows only that the letter ' in the singular is paragogic and that is why the tsere which otherwise would be used here has been changed into a sheva; and when the paragogic ' drops out in the plural , then the tsere rema ins in the plural, or, better, it returns again .

By these rules anyone at al l may learn easily to inflect nearly al l singulars into plurals, and to recognize the singular from the plural . It remains now to add something about the dual number.

In addition to the plural certa in nouns are also inflected into the dual num­ ber by adding these letters, whether they are masculine or feminine: ' and 0 and the vowels patach and ch irek; l ike oi' a day 0'1;l'" two days, whose plural is 1;1'0: , i"ll!!i a year O'lJl!Zi two years. And in th is manner it was possible, observing the rules of the pioneers of the language, to inflect all nouns, had not the latter ones neglected this by using this termination to express in the plural many things which are naturally dual or which consist of two parts, l ike ': a hand, plural O'L! yadaim, instead of ni,: yadoth; ] lit an ear, plural O'lll:t ears, and thus with other things that are dual. Further, because tongs constitute two parts, they are called C'1Jj?71;l and shears 0'15lt!lO.3

For this reason, then, it is not now permissible to use this ending to indicate the dual number, except only in those nouns which are found in the Bible thus to reflect the dual number.

2. [The first edition here adds wrongly " otherwise It IS always retamed."] 3 . [Thus ID the Ho ly Scnptures, but It should be O�1F;100.1

604 Hebrew Grammar

C HAPTER 7

OF THE MASCULINE AND FEMININE GENDER

Nouns which indicate males or things which pertain to males are masculine; those which indicate females or things which perta in to females are feminine. But those which express other things are common; and, although most of them occur in the Bible either in mascul ine or feminine, it approaches the neuter case. Some occur as feminine only once and in all others are always found to be masculine and contrarily some are mascul ine in only one place. E.g.: the word 'll� a wing is in the feminine gender everywhere except twice (in the second book of Chronicles chapter 3 , verses I I and 12) and for this reason considered common gender by the writers. Were it not for this most beloved book of Chron­ icles they would without doubt place it among the femin ines. If we had more such nouns perhaps all rules would change and those which now number among the exceptions would be regular and contrarily, many regulars would be excep­ tions. For, as I sa id in a word, there are many who wrote a grammar of the Scrip­ tures but none who wrote a grammar of the Hebrew language. But to the proposition. We see also how the Scriptures refer in the same sentence one noun to both genders indiscriminately, l ike Genesis chapter 32, verse 9 "l't 'f\111 l'ti:1: 1:Il't m�;11 nlJl!� ;rlOl;llJ if Esau should come to the one camp and smite it; and in this matter I shall entirely agree with Rabbi Shelomo (Rash i), who states m:1pl' 1;r,�! I:I"IJ 1J1' i:;J ),!CtD '�1 .,� "everything which doesn't have the spirit of life express it either in masculine or feminine gender." See h is commentary in the place referred to. I

Adjectives are changed from mascul ine to feminine by adding to them a n or 01, with a kametz " and by changing the syllables in accordance with the pre­ ceding rules; e.g., I:I�\T wise OTl;J�lT feminine, "i'� great or7i'� feminine, 11'f blessed ;r�1':1 feminine, 'pEl visiting ;r1piEl and n1piEl feminine, 1Zi'l't a man ;rtii'l't a woman, " :1) a master n1':1� a mistress.

The exceptions are those which have a double segol , both of which should be changed into . But in order that two should not occur at the beginning of a word the first is changed into a patach, l ike 1"0 a king ;r�"/;l a queen, which according to the preceding rules ought to be ;r�,?o.

Masculine adjectives ending in a ;r change the last syllable into a , l ike ;rEl: pretty into ;r�:, 0Tl't'l seeing, feminine ;r!;('l , etc. Further, those ending in ' are changed in feminine either l ike the preceding or simply by adding a n, l ike 'ltD second, in feminine ;r:ltD or n'llZi; l:I'llZi seconch, in feminine n·" llZi. And th is

1. [TIllS comment IS not In Rashl's commentary but In Ibn Ezra.]

Chapur 8 605

condition occurs particularly in those adjectives by which it is indicated from which tribe or region someone is, l ike " :1ll a Hebrew man, feminine ;'I:':;1ll and n" :1ll a Hebrew woman; it must be noted that all these adjectives are formed in the mascul ine gender from the proper nouns of their lands of birth or parentage by the addition of a yod with a chirek preceding it, and by changing the syllables according to the rules of the following chapter which deals with the construct of nouns, as from ?K'rD' comes '?K'rD" from ':1ll comes " :1ll, from ':1n comes " :1n, and from 1Zi1� Ethiopia co�es '1Zi1:1 an

',f from 1:I�1'; comes ;b�1Zi1" a Jerusalemite, To all these nouns in mascul ine plural only a 1:1, is added, l ike 1:I" :1ll Hebrews, 1:I'1Zi1:1 Ethiopians. If the noun from which this is formed ends in a plural form, then this is left off, For example, 1:I'!�1:l Egypt becomes " �1:l an Egyptian, and this, as I have said, is changed into feminine by the addition of a n or a ;'I with a kametz , preceding it. But in the plural they are always inflected l ike feminines which end in a ;'I l ike ni" �1:l, ni" :1ll, etc.

And hence it seems to have been a fact that j ust as the regular ending ;'I together with the preceding kametz , , or the n, and the plural ni almost made adjectives into feminines, so the Hebrews generally were accustomed also to consider substantives, which ended in ;'I or n in singular and in ni in plural, to be of the feminine gender, unless perhaps it is a fact that they mistook the origin of the gender of adjectives. But of this enough.

C HAPTER 8

OF THE CONSTRUCT CASE OF NOUNS

Things are expressed either absolutely or in relationship to other things, so that they may be indicated more clearly and distinctly, For example: "The earth is big," "the earth" is expressed in an absolute state; but "God's earth is big," here, "earth" is in a relative state because it is expressed more effectively or indicated more clearly, and this is called the construct state, I will now tell in orderly fash­ ion the manner in which this is usually expressed, beginn ing with the manner of the singular.

Nouns which ended in a ;'l preceded by a kametz or a cholem, change the ;'I into a n and the kametz , into a patach - , Thus ;'I'?'Elr-l becomes in construct case m'Elr-l, and means somebody's prayer. So ;'I�-!, to do becomes in construct case nirDll somebody's doing, as in I:I';'I"� ;'1);'1' n" rDll l:li' the day of the Lord God's doing.

Those which have a double or only a single kametz in the absolute, change in the construct case the penultimate into a sheva and the ultimate into a pat­ ach, l ike ':;1' from ':;1"1 a word, :1\T! '�:I a talent of gold from ,:;>:1 a talent,

606 Hebrew Grammar

c:;>cr from C�IJ a wise man, as Job in chapter 9 called God :l�" c:;>cr wise of heart. So 11'f blessed, C\.,� peace, '1� visiting, lP! old, etc . , change the penultimate kametz to a shew; so also ni?l::> justice, ;'I�l:l a blessing, change the ultimate kametz into a patach, and the penultimate into a shew, and the ;'I into a 1'1 as we have already sa id, thus becoming q�'::>, n�':l. It is only because two shews cannot occur at the beginning of a word that the first sheva is changed into chirek. This is always the case, I cannot reiterate th is too often, with every chirek and patach before a shew.

A penultimate tsere is sometimes changed into a sheva, and an ultimate some­ times to a patach, l ike 'lliO from 'lliO hair, and nl:!!l from 0Il$!l a comer, lpl from lP! an elder, "jP1;l from "P1;l a stick. But most frequently both the ultimate and the penultimate remain unchanged. Indeed, these and many others l ike them are completely uncertain; at times a noun changes the tsere and at times it reta ins it, which shows that in the Scriptures the dialects are mixed up. Thus everyone is at l iberty either to change or to leave both the tsere and the kametz in the ul timate; except for the tsere before a , which always should be reta ined because of common usage, l ike "�';'I a f£mple, for example. The word ;'I11orDI:! occurs everywhere in the Scriptu res in the construct case as n'101Zi1:!, and ;'I�11t"l'I and ;'Ir,l1"lllJ become n:l1ll'?l'l and n1;l1",pl'l. Therefore I say everyone is free to write n,101Zi1:! for n;101Zi1:! and n:l1lt'?l'I for n:lllt"l'I, even though neither is found in the Scriptures. And what I have said about the tsere and the kametz should be said about everything that does not follow a fixed rule. But of th is I shall treat copiously in another place. Here let me add a word concerning the matter of which I have spoken thus far, and which I regard to be no less essen­ tial toward the purpose of th is chapter and toward the general knowledge of th is language.

In the previous chapter, we have sa id that the feminine endings ;'l, and 1'1 and the plural I'll are characteristic of adjectives and participles, doubtless because the same noun may have an adjective, which sometimes is referred to as mascu­ l ine and sometimes as feminine, and for that reason, at one time or another requires either of two endings. This is not the case with the substantive nouns and, therefore, it sometimes happens that substantive nouns which express nei­ ther mascul ine nor feminine are referred to as of feminine gender when they end in ;'I or 1'1 ; or perhaps this is (as we have said) because they derive their origin from feminine adjectives. But it is someth ing else that I intend here: namely, that j ust as the determinations of the substantives originate from adjectives and par­ ticiples, so the changes, which nouns experience in the construct case, derive their origin from mutations of infinitives and the participles. For all Hebrew nouns (as is known to all experts in this language) are derived from forms of verbs. It should be added that first and foremost the use of substantive nouns is to indicate someth ing absolute and not relative. Indeed the latter is impossible for proper nouns; which thus are never found in construct case. But actions are seldom expressed without either an active or passive relationship, and, therefore,

Chapur 8 607

are rarely found in the absolute state. However it may be, the variations of the substantives are easily learned from the ways in which the infinitive and par­ ticipial nouns vary. Thus there is no doubt that the one derives ill; origin from the other. I shall now l ist here a few examples and their variations in the con­ struct case, as a model for the changes of all nouns, so that they may be easily committed to memory.

Absolute State to visit*

to be visited } to visit frequently to be visited frequently to cause or make someone to visit to be caused to visit to cause oneself to be visited to approach

to reveal { to surround to {ind

to open

}

Fonns of Infinitives

'i�

"1p51l and ,pen

'P5l and ,P'l ,�

'pEliJ

'pEliJ

'P5lnO'T

lDill h'?�

ni'?� :110

Ki�r,l

1Ji'5l

Construct State ,ipe and -'i?5l

and mipe from ;rlP� always absolute

'p�;r 'P5l 'p5l

" pEliJ

'pEliJ

'P5lnO'T

ntli� ni7) ni'?)

:lio and -:19 Ki�o and nt::'O . .

nt::'O np5l

These are the principal examples of the infinitives. And now I proceed toward the participles.

"'The mfinitive in the absolute state often agrees With the perfect tense: for i:Ji to speak also means he has spoken; .,,� to grow, ?cu.;t to cook have the form of the perfect, as I have shown In its place. Therefore, I have no doubt that Tt?� with a double kametz and � with kametz and patach were also forms of the infimtive, from which form comes 1?D ID the construct, namely from .,p�. �, and '1j?�. And let it suffice to note this In passing here because it is more extensIVely discussed under the subject of conJugations.

608 Hebrew Grammar

Construct

" f'6 and 'i?S and ,pe ',pe

1'11pe 1'1i'pe ·,�C 'j.�C

1'1lp!;lc 1'1i'�c " f'El/;l " f'El/;l

n!'f'El/;l

1'1jp�nc 1'1i'p'�I;1C

';>7� and ';>'J� ,';>,� 1'1'?'�

1'1',,;>,� It�

1,1t� 1'119

1'1ilt�

Fonns of Participles

Active

,pe c" pe ;r1pe

and

1'11pe 1'1i'pe ,�C

C" �C ;r1�c }

and 1'1lp!;lc

1'1i'�c " i'£l/;l

C" 'f'El/;l ;r'Tf'El/;l

and mi'£l/;l 'p�1'1c

c" p;l1'1C ;r1P;l1'1C }

and 1'11P�1'1c

1'1i'p;l1'1c

';>,� C'';>,) ;r';>,�

1'1·,S,�

It� C'It� nIt:l

1'1i��

Absolute

visiting, mase. gender m. p. f. s.

f. s. or mi?S or 'n'pe f. p. visiting frequently, m. s. m. p.

f. s.

f. p. make someone visit, m. s.

f . s . , from which also 1'1lpEl/;l

visiting oneself. or causing oneself to Vi8it� ffi. s.

m. p.

f. s.

f. p.

growing, m. s. m. p. f. s. f. p.

coming, m. s. m. p. f. s. f. p.

"'In tbe Bible this paltlcIe construct I S not found and the meaning does not seem to have been able to be expressed relahvely to the extent tbat It IS now always accepted Nevertheless, smce this form is also used occasIOnally with the same meamng. there is no reason that it should be le� able to have a construct I [Actually 'N� .-M L M.]

Chapur 8 609

OT7i OT7l revealing, m. s. '7i c'7i m. p. n'?i OT'i'i f. s.

n·,7i ni7i

And thus:

OT7l/;l OT7l/;l one who reveals, m. s. '7l/;l C'7l/;l m. p. n'?l/;l OT'i'l/;l f. s.

etc.

lJl.:liiD } l1/;liiV and hearing, m. s. l1/;liiD 'l1l.:liiD C'l1l.:liiD m. p.

OT-I'l.:liiD } nlJ/;liiV and f. s. nlJ/;liiD nil1l.:lirli nil1l.:liiV f. p.

Thus:

l1�iv lJ:J� satisfying 'l1:JiD C'l1:JiD m. p. nlJ:Jiv OT-I':Jiv f. s. nil1:Jiv nil1:Jiv f. p.

Passive Construct Absolute

'j;>ElJ 'i?ElJ being visited, m. s. " PElJ C" i?ElJ m. p.

OTli?ElJ f. s.

nli?� nli?ElJ ni'pEll ni'i?Ell f. p.

etc. 'i?iEll.:l and m. s., being visited frequently

'f'�l.:l 'i?Ell.:l '1i?Ell.:l C" i?Ell.:l m. p.

610 Hebrew Grammar

n1i?!;Il:l ni'i?€ll:l

i11P.£)!;l and

nlp;ll:l ni'p'£)!;l

'�1;l C" �1;l nl�1;l

and i11P.£ll:l

ni'P.£ll:l '1P� and 'P!l

C" 1Pll i111Pll

ni'1pll 'i?15l and 'i?ll

C" i?15l i11i?1ll

and ntj?ll

and mpll

ni'i?15l

} f s. f p. made to visit, m. s. m. p.

} f s. f p.

} visited, verbal adjective, m. s. and C" Pll m. p. and i11pll and mpll f. s. and ni'pll f p.

} frequently visited, adjective, m. s. and C" !?ll m. p.

) f. s. and ni'!?ll f p.

Besides these, there are the other forms of the participles, but I am of the opinion these will suffice for the present, so that anyone can easily learn to change a noun from the absolute state to the construct. This rule should be observed: vowels which are unchangeable are retained in the construct case, for example monosyllables and also those referred to as disyllables whose first vowel is a sheva, l ike :It;l:!> writing, :ml a wolf. etc . , a double segolate, patach, ch irek, and sheva. A cholem is generally reta ined also but before a makaf we see that it is changed to a short o. The shurek very rarely or perhaps never is changed, and if occasionally a kibbutz is used in its place, it does not on that account become a construct, but because one may serve for the other; for a shurek is a vowel com­ posed of a cholem and a kibbutz, and therefore, in place of a shurek we fre­ quently see used either a cholem or a kibbutz.

Chapur 8 6 1 1

But the reason that "' !J, 1'�, m� , and others o f this type are i n construct "l!', n)1;l, and ))I;t, etc. , is due to common usage of the language. We have already said above that a kametz before a segol replaces the first segol at the end of a sen­ tence, or in the middle of a sentence to divide one part of it from the other, l ike nl�ll for nl�ll and nlp'i51 for nlpi51. Therefore "'-1', etc . , occurs in the absolute state in place of the construct "lp.

But it should be noted that in this language it is mostly the custom to render the ' vav qu iescent, changing the syllable into a cholem; which is the most fre­ quent usage and it is seen most prevalent in respect to th is noun because in the Scriptures it is only once found in the construct, otherwise everywhere from "'-1' fraud i t is "W and from ))� wickedness 1iK ; and so in the rest of these forms.

Finally, may I add something also about the ending of the pI ural. We see that the plural ending ni is always reta ined in the construct; but c' loses the C and the ch irek changes into a !sere. This pattern also holds true with the construct of dual C'. , which similarly loses the C with the chirek, and the pat­ ach changes to !sere, l ike from C'll1 eyes, it becomes 'll1 in the construct state; and this I believe makes it that every patach before ' with a ch irek follows this form in the construct, making it from n':;! a house n':l and from 1" wine 1" , etc.

Now before I pass on to the last, I must first of all note that I understand by the word noun all classes of nouns. Every noun, except the proper noun (as we have already sa id), can be in genitive or can be changed to genitive; and partic­ ularly the relative form, or the preposition which is always indicated as relative, and on that account can almost always become a genitive, and is frequently changed; all of which I shall illustrate here very clearly by examples.

C'ii"l$ n':l C�\I :l"

:li-" C::lC1 n�l1iJ "i'l :lit!! ':ltTiK

tDl.:ll!itT 'Ki, c'n"� It,:l

c'n·"K It,:l ci'

C1P 'l.:l':Wl;l ,pj� 'l.:l':Wl;l

House of God. Both are substantives. A heart of a wise one. First is a substantive. The second adjective.

Wise of heart. } Opposite of above. Great of counsel.

Lovers of good. } Th fi d . . I e rst wor s are partIclp es. Seers of the sun.

The creation of God. First is an infinitive.

Day of the creation of God. Inf. which simultane­ ously modifies and is modified.

Early ones to rise, that is, those who are quick to rise.

Early in the morning, preposition in the genitive and participle in the construct.

6 12 Hebrew Grammar

'li " "

Before the Lord. Prepos ition is construct from C'l�? before, so from llt;1 the midst, it is lin in the midst of

Until and until, that is, indefinite time, here the preposition modifies and is modified. Plague without ceasing, that is, a plague which does not cease. Adverb is not modified.

Not wise; here the word 111C construct from )'1$ is l ike in absolute state 1'� which l ike p changes in construct state, as we have said, from the pat­ ach and chirek into a tsere.

Finally, I want to remind you aga in, and again, that you consider carefully in your mind all that has been said in Chapter 5 about the noun. For nobody will be able to cultivate this language profitably, unless he rightly learns what we have said there, namely, that the verbs, the participles, the prepositions, and the adverbs among the Hebrews are all pure unmixed nouns.

CHAPTER 9

OF THE TWOFOLD USE OF THE NOUN AND OF ITS DECLENSION

As an appellative noun we wish to indicate either one individual or many certain indefinite persons, and also one or many certa in and known ones; something which among the Latins makes no difference] but among the Hebrews and oth­ ers there is a great difference. To be sure 1Zi'1C or C'IZi'1C may signify any man or all men. But if any one wants to signify only a man or men of whom he has spo­ ken already or who is supposed to be denoted, he should put in front of the noun a ;j with a patach and double the first letter of the noun, that is to dagesh i� and if the first letter should be one of those which are not able to be doubled, then the iT should have a kametz in place of the patach, l ike ?1C'1:;Jl. tD'lCiJ' and the man Gabriel. But it should be noted that both the dagesh and the kametz may be compensated by a ga'ya, iTC�p, 'mp, etc. And this iT should be called iT-!" ,';j, that is, the iT of knowledge, because it indicates a known thing and therefore, I shall call it the indicative.

1. [Spinoza here wishes to mdicate that m Latin there IS no defimte or mdefinite article before a noun J

Chapur 9 6 1 3

Indeed truly this kind o f use o f the ;r can have a place only i n appellatives, adjectives, and participles; but not in proper nouns, in infinitives, nor in adverbs; and because it can signify only a single object, it may also not be in plurals of the same group; and with regard to relative nouns they never appear in the absolute state but only in the construct. But first let it be noted about this ;r that it never comes before a genitive noun, for reasons which I shall show in this chapter.

Further, because all nouns among the Hebrews are indecl inable, the case is expressed generally only by a preposition, so called. I said "so called." For with prepositions, as we have already said (indeed they are nouns), the genitive usu­ ally prevails; but as among the Greeks, ablative prepositions govern the genitive, and only by their meaning does the genitive take place of the ablative, so it is among the Hebrews everything occurs in the genitive and only by their meaning does the genitive take the place of all the other cases.

These are the prepositions of the cases generally used: 7, 7l't, ::1, ° and 10, Cll, etc. Of these 7, ::1 preceding the noun are punctuated with a sheva. The 0, however, because it is used in place of 10, is punctuated with a ch irek and the 1 is compensated by the dagesh point in the succeeding letter; as all may see in the following examples:

Both 7 with sheva, and 7l't indicate the dative; ::1, 0, 10, and Cll the ablative; the accusative, however, has no preposition, but in its place the particle nl't should be used, wh ich , therefore, never governs a genitive but always an accusative. The rema ining cases have no prepositions. Therefore, when we said above that the genitive is used in place of the remaining cases, it is understood, in place of the dative and ablative, because these are expressed only by preposi­ tions. But all these will become clearly intelligible from the following examples.

Example of an Indefinite Appellative Noun

Singular Nom. ':;t1 Gen . ':;t1

Oat. '�j7

Acc. Voc. ':;t1 Abl.

a word Recognized by the construct of the preceding noun and its gender. Understand the preposition expresses the meaning of the dative and is in the construct state, and the noun is genitive. Further it should be noted that when the 7 indicates "tenninus ad quem" it is possi­ ble to be substituted by a ;r at the end of the word, l ike ;r�,� for n�'? to the ground. Recognized by the active verb.

Understand this l ike the above in the dative.

614 Hebrew Grammar

Nom. Gen . Oat. Acc. Voc. Abl.

Plural 0" :;t1 0" :11

0',:1," 0" :;t1 } 0" :;t1

O,,:;t,:l or O

Example of a Noun with the Definite Article i1 Singular

Nom' } ':11;r Gen . , , -

Oat. ':;t17 for ':;t1iJ"

Voc. ':;t1iJ Abl. ':;t1:l for ,:;t,iJ:l

Plural Nom.} 0" :1101 Gen. , -

Oat. 0" :;t1'? for 0" :;t1iJ" Acc. 0" :;t1iJ OIl'( Voc. 0" :;t1iJ Abl. 0" :;t1:l fur 0" :;t1iJ:l

Example of a Masculine Substantive Noun and Adjective

Nom.} .,',,) "1'( Gen . ' Great God Oat. "i1) "I'("

etc.

01 with the Definite Article

Nom. } "" )01 "1'(01 Gen. , - , Oat. "i'l;r "1'(" Acc. .,i,i6 "I'(� OIl'(

Example of the Feminine Gender 01 with the Definite Article

Nom. } OlE)' milO Gen . ' " Oat. ;r�: ;r";lilO"

etc. etc.

Nom. } lin midst Gen .

Example of a Relative Noun

Oat lin 'iN, lin? to the midst Acc. lin Abl. lin:;J, l'ino in and from the midst, etc.

Chapur 9 6 1 5

Note: lin i s really i n the construct state and i t i s formed from 1m l ike from ?il1 fraud comes ?il1. I took the example of the construct, because as I said, prepositions are hard to conceive in the absolute state, and therefore, they are never declined with the definite article n, because the n usually appl ies to a th ing already explained and known; whereas the construct appl ies to a th ing to be explained and determined by the genitive, that is, a th ing not yet known. And here I say the n and construct, frequently, but I did not say it always appl ies; for often indeed in the highest eloquence, it is permissible to substitute the definite article for the construct, and the construct for the definite article n; for example, it is more eloquent to say 'IC'�-?f all prophets for 'lC'�iJ-';>f' Because l:l'IC'�iJ sig­ nifies prophets already known and 'IC'� in the construct and understood as gen­ itive, signifies prophets of an already known thing, namely of God, of truth, etc. So to say )". 'P';I)1:l:;J l:l'nirz!jJ they who drink in bowls of wine in place of I:l'Pll� is more eloquent. But of this at length in the Syntaxes. Here let it suffice to show in general that the construc� l ike the definite article n, is able to be understood as a genitive, as a thing known , which cannot take place in the case prepositions.

Another Example of a Relative Noun

Singular Nom. } 1:l1P. aforetime Gen . Oat 1:l1,P.? Acc. 1:l1P. Abl. 1:l1PO

Another Relative Noun rm outside

Plural Nom. } '01P much aforetime Gen. Oat. '01P? Acc. '01P Abl. '01iP1:l from aforetime (Prov. 8 :23 r1l't '01i1'0 really means from all the aforetimes of the earth.)

rmo a particle which means outside

6 16 Hebrew Grammar

Declined like a noun as follows: Nom. } rmc outside Gen . Oat. r"nc 71( to the outside Acc. r"nc Abl. rmc::!; and so with the rest

Another Example of an Adverb Nom. } 'nc when Gen. - ,

Oat. 't:1I�7 to the when, that is, in that time Acc. 'nQ Abl. 'nQ::l, etc.

Nom. } . I Gen .

I:lln vam y

Oat. I:lln 71( in vain, etc.

Nom. } 1'll hitherto Gen . Oat. ,ill7 to the hitherto Acc. 1'll Abl. ,ill::l , ,illC {rom and in the hitherto, that is, in time, at the time

Nom. } 1'p� Gen. Oat. 1'PEl7 Acc. 1'p� Abl. 'ipEl::l

1'PEl:l ,iPElC

Example of an Infinitive

Participles are declined like adverbs.

Nom' } N:7 no Gen .

Examples of Adverbs Nom. } I:l,t!! before, not yet, scarcely Gen.

Oat Acc. Abl.

1("" to no I('? 1(';0 from no

Oat. Acc . Abl.

t:l1t!1" to the scarcely, not as yet t:llt?

Chapter 10 6 17

t:llt?::1, t:ll�O from before, in , or at a time

From these examples, everyone is able easily to see according to what system all nouns which are construct are decl ined. But it should be noted I have n icely omitted the case of prepositions when from the meaning it is not possible to be in doubt, l ike Proverbs chapter 22, verse 21 "1'n?iD., nOI$ t:I'1?;ltt :J'l!iiJ" to bring back words with truth to them that send you. Indeed since t:I'1� is in absolute state, the genitive n� cannot refer to it, but it should have the prefixed pre­ position ::1, which is here omitted . So, I Kings chapter 2, verse 7 : ''':;1(::1 1'iJ1 "1lIJ"t/i and they shall be of those that eat at thy table; where also the preposition "1( or ",p in the genitive is rightly understood by a construct participle. Much more of this will be said at great length in the section on Syntax.

CHAPTER 1 0

O F THE PREPOSITION AN D THE ADVERB

We have said above, in Chapter 5, that prepositions are nouns which indicate the relationship of one individual to another. We have also said that the same rela­ tionship may be expressed in both the singular and plural. The first statement, namely that I believe that prepositions are nouns, is based on the two previous chapters. But that prepositions should occur in the plural also might perhaps appear absurd to many; but why should they no� since they are also nouns? But you may say relationships are not species which have many individuals under them, and for that reason they should, in common with proper nouns, not be able to be in the plural . But though it seems that some species do not have many relationships, yet prepositions nevertheless are inflected from singular into plural. How this is able to be done, I intend to expla in here briefly.

Although prepositions cannot indicate many relationships simultaneously, nevertheless they are inflected from singular to plural in the absolu te state as well as the construct state; but prepositions in the absolute state are only rela­ tionships of themselves, abstractly conceived and not expressed; but then they express not so much the relationship as the place or time with relation to some thing. For example from 1'::1 between, the plural is nil'::1 , which indeed signifies not the relationship of one individual to another but the places between others (about which see Ezek. 10 :2) ; or as I have said, it is the preposition itself whose

6 18 Hebrew Grammar

relation is conceived in the abstract, l ike from '�rrl$ to the plural 1:I,,�mt poste­ riors, or better backward. In accordance with this pattern many prepositions as well as adverbs can be formed, although in the Scriptures they are never found thus formulated.

Further, prepositions are decl ined also in the construct state, that is insofar as their relationsh ips are indicated both in singular and in plural; which is either because the relationship is conceived as existing many times, or because the rela­ tionship should be expressed intensely. For example '1J1t after becomes in the plural " IJIt , which means much after, as the Rabbis have very well pointed out. Thus "K to becomes in the plural '.,� much to, that is, how much can be done; so from ".[1 above, it is '''.[1, and from ,.[1 until '1 . .[1. Hence ,.[1 " .[1 means in eternity, that is everything which can be conceived; thus n� 'C'pC �eans {rom all before the earth; and in th is manner nearly all prepositions can be declined whether in the s ingular or the plural.

But 'lEl" before, a preposition which has no singular, is an exception to this. For it is declined in the plural only because it is formed from the substantive l:I'l� a face or anterior, which lacks a singular.

Finally, we consider adverbs also as nouns by which an action is determined as to its manner, time, place, activity, order, etc . For example, well, ill, speedily, tomorrow, yesterday, always, outside, once, firstly, secondly, etc. Reason indicates that these all lack a plural. And they are not able to be conceived abstractly, l ike prepositions, as is evident per se. And although the Latins frequently tried to stretch out adverbs, l ike very kindly, very early in the morning, etc . , nevertheless, had they been expressed in the plural among the Hebrews as is frequently the case with prepositions, it would seem absurd indeed, to the Hebrews. For prepo­ sitions which indicate relationships can, l ike substantive nouns, have attributes, without being expressed directly; but adverbs, which are modes of action, are l ike adjectives of verbs; by means of them nothing more is intended than to serve as attributes of attributes, as if to add adjectives to adjectives. Next, adverbs, wh ich, as I have said, are l ike adjectives of verbs, should agree in number with their sub­ stan tive, that is with their verb, which occurs only in the singular. Therefore, to express the meaning: very early in the morning, very kindly, etc. , the Hebrews used the verb itself, and instead of one of the adverbs, they used a verb or a noun. For example, he TOse up very early in the morning is expressed in Hebrew, he has­ tened completely to the arising, and he acted very kindly, he acted completely with kindness, as we shall explain in its place under Syn tax.

But it should be noted that adverbs, l ike adjectives, are frequently formed into substantives. But instead of being inflected in the plural, they are usually repeated, l ike OT,?ll� OT,?� upward upward, that is to the top all the way up; on the other hand, OTtiI/;l OTtiI/;l lower, lower means to the bottom all the way down. Thus " KC means very, and ,icc ,icc to the highest grade, very, and exceedingly; l ikewise t!I.[1C little t!I.[1/;l t!I.[1C gradually; and in th is manner the others.

Chapter 1 1 6 19

CHAPTER 1 1

OF THE PRONOUNS

Before I go over to the conjugations it is necessary that I give attention to the pro­ nouns. For without the latter the former can scarcely be taught. What a pronoun is and into how many classes it is divided is known to all. I will here relate the manner it is changed in number from singular into plural, and from mascul ine into feminine, and how they are decl ined.

Singular

You

You

He

She

f 'l� l '�'lltt ;rt;l� masc. gen .

n! fern. gen . l't1;r

Personal Pronouns

Plural

101

You

You

They

They

\ Note: The gender is com mon, as everywhere in the first person , because speech itself indicates sufficiently whether it is masculine or feminine.

rnase.

f. and with 01 added 0Tln! m.

f.

The plu ral ending of these differs greatly from the usual , for the mascul ine does not end in C' nor the feminine in ni. Also the feminine ending here even differs from that of the adjective. Finally, the feminine ..,� seems to have been also '..,�, and l't';r to have been l't1;r differing from the masculine by different vocal ization. In the Bible this is found frequently with corrections by the Mas­ sorites because the original forms were obsolete.

620 Hebrew Grammar

Indicatives or Demonstratives

{ i1l this 1T t7 without plurals this (f.) { �i nleT iT

these e'* without singulars "Ie The � indicative serves as a relative pronoun both in singular and plural , or

in its place 1Zi, followed by a dagesh in the succeeding letter; but most frequently ,!!ilit occurs in the Bible.

Separate possessives are not used, but they are affixed to the construct of a noun in this way:

Example of the Substantive Noun i�l (a Word) from Which the Construct Is i�l

Nominative Singular Suffixes

" :t' my word your word

(and if the accent is mnle or P''''C: '1':i:t')

m.

ll:t' and l':t' i':t'

your word f.

1l':t' c�,�, P'�' Cl:t' n:t'

his word m. "'l:t' her word f.

Plural Suffixes our word your word m. your word f. their word m. their word f.

Chapter 1 1

From Construct Plural '"')�, N.B. A , does not occur ''''l�' my words under the " unless the "1" �' your words m. accent i s an nln� or P1'7'O. l''''l�' your words f. Otherwise instead of , it is " l�' their words m. punctuated with a patach. O" �, their words f.

Plural Nouns and Plural Suffixes N.B. The second and U" �, our word third persons, whose noun C:>',:1, your words m. is plural, are always added P',:1, your words f. to th e construct pI urals. cn" :1' their words m.

JOT',:1, their words f.

Thus from the construct n7'Eln prayer of we have 'n'?'Eln , "1n7'Eln , etc. , and in the plural 'l:Ii"'OO , etc. So from n':;J, construct of the substantive noun n':;! house, it is 'n':;J my house, and from plural construct 'n:;!, it is "1,,.9 your house1 etc.

Examples of Nominative Singular Participles and with Suffixes

An Example of Masculine ,pi9 'l!Pi5l and ',pi5l my visit

"1'pi5l youTvisit (m.) l' your visit (f.) i'pi5l his visit (m.) "'1pi5l her visit (f.)

An Example of Feminine r11p9 'n1pil my visit

"In1�il your visit (m.) 11'1 your visit (f.) in1�il his visit (m.) "'t;i her visit (f.)

62 1

622 Hebrew Grammar

An Example of Plural Masculine '1j?9 " PEl my visits

'1'1i?6 your visits (m. ) 1'1 your visits (£) 1'11'6 his visits

etc . , as in the substantive.

An Example of Plural Feminine ni1j?9 'tJi'i'6

'1'ni'p6 1'1'1

my visit. your vi.it. (m.) your vi.it. (£ )

etc . , as in the substantive.

An Example of the Infinitive Construct 1ip� " i?� to visit me '11j?� to visit you (m. s . ) l'P� to visit you (f. s . ) i'p� to visit him (m. s . ) "'1 to visit her (f. s . ) 1l1i?� to visit us

1:l:l1i?� to visit you (m. p . ) p to visit you (f. p.) 1:l1i'� to visit them (m. p . ) 11 to visit them (f. p . )

An Example of the Relative 1'� Between (Sing.) 'll':;J and 'l':;J between me

'1l':;J between you (m. s . ) II between you (f. s . ) il':;J between him (m. s . ) "'1 between her (£ s .) 1ll':;J between us

l:l:ll':;J between you (m. p . ) etc.

Chapter 1 1 623

An Example of the Relative ')'� (PluT.) '�'� between me

"1'l':1 between you (m. s .) 1'_':1 between you (f. s.) 1'1':1 between him V'�'� between her 1l'l':1 between us

1:l:l'l':1 between you (m. p . ) p between you (f. p . )

1:li1 between them 1i1 between them

Thus from the singular and the plural it is:

nOI1 'nnl1 'lnnl1 'I1nl1 "1t;1r;t11 "1't;lnl1

11'1 etc. 1'l1nl1 etc. But ?1C to, ?,!) upon, 11j� after, 1,!) until have no suffixes in the singular; in

the plurals, however, they are as follows:

'?'!) '?IC 'It)� '7-!' ''tIC 'llj�

"1'?-!' "1'?1C "1'1t)� 1''t-!' 1''t1C 1'llj�

etc. 1'71C 1'1t1� i;t'?1C etc. 1l'?1C

etc.

Inseparable prepositions, then , do not have a plural.

:1 and ? ':1 in me and me '? to me "1:1 in you (m.) 17 and "1't to you (m.) 1:;J in you (f.) 17 to you (f.) i:1 in him (m.) i? to him (m.) n:;J in her (f.) n7 to her (f.)

'1,!) '1.ll etc.

Ex 11:l 'lr.l1:l "1r.l1:l 1r.l1:l 1lr.l1:l

i11r.l1:l

from and 'l1:l

and 1i1l1:l and 1i1l1:l

624 Hebrew Grammar

1l� 1l? llr.lO C:l� etc. c:;>rpo and C::lC

p P P C;'I� Ci)rpo and cm.:l and C;,!lC

1;'1 P 1;'1 1;'1

Examples of Adverbs i1:l::l like, as iTlI� where mil behold

'li� '�jj 1i� ;'I�.'� and 1'� where are you? 1l;'l 1li� T� f. 1ll;'l and 'll;'l

etc. i'l! where is he? etc. C:l'� where are you? m. p. p where are you? f. p . C:� where are they? m. p . 1: where are they? £ p .

From the construct of the adverb 1'1! not , which we have sa id is ]'IC, we have:

'll'l( not ! 1l'l( not you ll'l(

1l1� and il'l( not he ;'I�'I( and rirl(

From ,ill until i t is:

,," ll 1" ll

1," ll 1l1ill and " " ll

ri1ill and ;'Il," ll

until ! until you m. s. until you £ s. until he m. s. until she £ s.

1ll'l( not we C:ll'l( not you m. p. P not you f. p .

C;'!l'1( and crl( m. p.

1;'1

1l" ll C:l,ill

P Cl'll

11

f. p.

until we until you m. p. until you f. p. until they m. p. until they f. p.

And the rest are declined in the same manner. The reason that vowels of the construct are not retained but are changed in various ways is that nouns contain at least one syllable and it is lengthened when it requires an accent. This is the special reason why vowels change to shorter ones when they add, in the plural , another long syllable with an accent, for otherwise doubtless '�1 would in plural be C" �1, and also other words l ike i� and they would necessarily require

Chapter 1 1 625

a doubled accent (as we have shown in Chapter 4), and the first syllable would have to be lengthened, which cannot be done so often without great trouble.

As a result, because of the changes which suffixes bring about in vowels, the rules are followed both in changes in plu ral and in construct. I submit, however, that in order to add a suffix with an accent they could have changed the rules of the plural construct; nor can I easily explain why this could not be done. For just as from ':l?l;l construct plural of the noun l?l;l it is '::l?l;l my king, so also from construct plural of the noun ',:1, it could have become ',:1, my word, instead offrom the absolute C" �, to become ,,�, because a noun with a suffix should truly have the significance of a construct. I know indeed that in this manner not infrequently the kind of ambiguity is avoided which often arises if the rule of the plural construct is followed. For if it had been ',:1, my word (developed from ',:1,) and it had been ,�! (developed from " :ll, plural construct of " :ll a male), these nouns may be easily confused with ,:1, pestilence, and ':ll memo­ rial, and thus appear l ike ',:1, my pestilence, and " :ll my memorial. In the same manner many other nouns would be confused, if nouns to which a suffix is added were to follow the rule of plural constructs. And however much this rea­ son seems to carry weight, still I do not dare to affirm for certain that the Hebrews were unwill ing to avoid this confusion. For it appears that the Hebrews were not by any means strongly moved to avoid ambigu ity, a th ing which I could demon­ strate with many examples, except that I judge this superfluous. Therefore I am more inclined to believe that the pronominal suffix is added to the construct case of the noun both in singular and plural, and " �, my word, etc . , 'Jj?1 my beard, etc . , are really formed from ':1' and lpl , the construct singulars of1�l and lj?! ; however, the , kametz of the absolute state was retained because the penultimate before a chirek and cholem requires a kametz, unless of course the noun is ?'D'l>O as in the case of n'l an olive, n':;! a hol.l1le, or when the letter punctuated by a ch irek or a cholem conta ins a dagesh point, l ike " ElQ a sapphire, p1n, a chain. So also from the construct ,�t) a courtyard i t is 1'�tT his courtyard, reta ining the tsere of the absolute '�IJ because, as we have said, a penultimate before a cholem and chirek, cannot be a patach . And in this way all constructs which have a patach in the ul timate and a sheva in the penultimate retain the vowel of the ultimate in the absolute state with a pronominal suffix. But if the penultimate in the construct is not a sheva but one of the vowels which is reta ined in the plural, such as a patach, a cholem without the accent, a chirek, etc . , then the pronominal suffixes are added according to the rules of the con­ struct plurals of nouns, as from " PEl , the construct plural of the participle 'fie, i t is " p·,El my visiting, and from n1?pl;l, the construct plural of the substantive ?Pl;l, i t is ''?Pl;l my staff. etc.

Further monosyllables too, in adding pronominal suffixes, follow the rules of construct plurals. So from ,,� , '�n, " D, etc . , the plural constructs of the nouns '4' a prince, rn a dart, 'D a witness, etc . , it is " 4', '�n, " D, etc.

Nouns which are ?'D'l>O whose accent, as we have said, changes by the addi­ tion of a suffix, are also obliged to follow the rule of plural constructs. Among these are considered all whose penultimate is a segol or a cholem before a segol.

626 Hebrew Grammar

Hence from '�7/;l, 'p'�, 'n:ll, plural constructs of the substantives 170, Pl� , n�!, it is '�7/;l my king, 'P'� my righteousness, and 'n:l! my sacrifice, and from '111.(, construct plural of the substantive ]lk it is 'lll$ my ear; and in the same way from the construct plural substantive 7il, :llj'l , 1,k etc. , it is '7'� my great­ ness, ':lnl my breadth, ';" 1$ my length, etc.

Concerning nouns which end in a ;r and which usually change it into a n and the preceding two syllables into segol, they are joined with suffixes only in this latter form, and then both segols are modified in the same way as the pre­ ceding. For example, in place of ;r:!l$Eln glory, ;rlt,ll1 a crown, ;rl'� a lady, etc . , the more elegant form nl!!Eln, nlt;lll, nl� is frequently used; they, there­ fore, take on suffixes only in this second form, namely by changing both segols in the same manner as nouns which have the double segol usually do in the con­ struct plural; that is they change the first syllable into a patach or chirek, the sec­ ond into a sheva. Consequently from nl��n it is 'm�Eln my glory, and from nlt;ll1 it is 'n1�11 my crown, from nl�l it is 'm:ll my lady. So because ;r11�p is used in place of n,it;lp it takes on the suffix in the same way, like a noun whose penultimate is a cholem which has to be changed into a chatuf kametz, and it becomes 'n,t,'Ip my incense.

Whence it happens that participles do not take on suffixes in the form of ;rlpill but only in the form of nlpill , as we have already shown in the paradigms of the participles. But the remaining nouns which end in 01 and do not usually change l ike the preceding, change only the affixed 01 into a n as usual in the construct, except that the ultimate kametz " for reasons already mentioned, is reta ined and is not changed into a patach as in the construct. Thus from ;r'?'Eln, whose construct i s n7'Eln, it i s 'n';>'Eln my prayer; and from ;rW:;l, whose con­ struct is nll!j?:;l, i t is 'nl\lj?:;l my petition, and in the same the rest are added to the singular construct.

Next, some ;r endings, which are retained in construct are generally left off with the suffixes, l ike ;r,i?' a field, "'I'i!' your field, ;ri!1l1/;l a deed, 'iDl1/;l my deed; and so the others which do not change the 01 into a n in a construct. I said indeed that the 01 generally, but not absolutely, is left off, because in the third person it is usually retained, like m,i?' his field, 1i!iD11i;1 his deed, etc. Thus far concerning the way the suffixes are added to singular nouns in the accepted way. Now let me say a word about the way the same are added acceptably to the plural.

To the plural nouns which end in ni both s ingular and plural suffixes are added without any changes of the construct in the first, second, and third per­ sons; for example ;r�l:;t a blessing is in the plural ni�l:;J, and the construct is ni�':;J, and hence it is 'lJi�' :;J , "'I'ni�':;J , " Oi�':;J my, your, his blessings, etc. So also nlk a way is in the plural ninll$ and its construct is nin'l$ and hence 'lJin'l$, "'I'nin'l$ my, your ways; and in this manner all the others which end in ni .

But those that end in C' , al l of which follow the construct singular, do the same in the plural when the suffix is the singular, or the first person plural; but

Chapter 1 1 627

the second and third person plural suffixes are added to construct plural without changing it . as we have shown in the first paradigm of the substantive noun '�l

Finally. those which in singular follow the plural construct l ike 17l.:l. n�!. )l.:ltD . etc . • suffixes are added to them in plural in the same way as to those with a double kametz. For 17l.:l in the plural becomes 1:I'�'?l.:l l ike '�1. 1:I" �'. And so it is '�,?1;l. "'I'�,?1;l. " :;>';>r.l. 1:I;"I'�'70. etc . • j ust as in ':t,. So also l!i,rD root is in plural l:I'tDltq from which it is '!!ill\i. 'I'I!i�!!i. " !!i�I\i. everywhere retaining the double kametz and therefore doubling the accent This is concerning the pos­ sessive pronouns.

There remains that I add a few words also about the declension of the per­ sonal pronoun. With the exception of the indicative. and the relative 'I!i� which. what. that. in that way. and the prefix !Ii. none are decl inable. But they are developed in th is manner:

The Nominative I'm he

i7 to him

;"Il;Il't you

The Dative '17 to you

The accusative is added to the particle nit in th is way:

inic him 'Inic you

The Ablative i:;J in him '� in me

And in the same way the plural is formed. Indicatives are decl ined l ike nouns:

m. Nom. { m } Sing. and this m. Gen. ;"II;"! m. Dative m'7 m. Acc. ;"I·Ii) m. Ab!' ;"I!'l. ;"110. etc.

628 Hebrew Grammar

f. Nom. { n�i } S ing. and this

f. Gen. n�m f. Oat. n�i" and ni-t·l't

Nom. } n';N and n'l>�iJ these PIU!. Gen. Oat. n';N'l> n'l>�,?

The Relative 11!i!C and tV

Nom. } 1tVI.C

Nom.{ iT�VW who was Gen. Gen. Oat. 111it!'? Oat. or:VW"

etc. etc.

CHAPTER 1 2

OF THE INFINITIVE NOUNS, THE VARIATIONS OF THEIR FORMS AND KINDS

Infinitive nouns express an action in either an active or a passive relationsh ip. For example: to visit someone is recorded in the active, and to be visited by someone in the passive. Nex� the nouns express action either simply or intensely, whether related in the active or passive; l ike to call upon and to visi� to break and to destroy. The first of these expresses a simple action of calling upon and breaking, but the second expresses a stronger or more frequent action of calling upon and breaking.

The Hebrew forms by which an action recorded in the active mood are most simply expressed are 1�p� , 'P�, 'i?� , and 'j;'� , whose constructs (as we said in Chapter 8) are 'ipEl and 'i?El . But those which express an action recorded in the passive mood are ,iPEll , 'p�n, and "'p�n l These forms 'p�, 'PEl, and

1 . [Modern grammanans cal l tbese kat and niph'al J

Chapter 12 629

,iPIil express an action with relation to the intensity or frequency of the act. These forms are particularly distinguished from the former in that the second letter is doubled, and therefore they always have a dagesh in that letter. Finally, a distinct intensive action recorded in the passive is expressed by a kibbutz and a cholem with a dagesh in the second letter, in the Sacred Scriptures; l ike �l.2

Besides, the Hebrews are accustomed to relate an action toward the first cause which brought it into being, as it were one action arising from another or as something performed by its own function; for example '·1PIil means to visit, " PEliJ, 'PEliJ , or " PEl" means to cause someone to visit. li'ir,l means to reign, T'?OiJ, etc . , to cause someone to reign. So from 'ii� to eat, i t is 'i':l�iJ to cause another to eat, and from lti:;J to come i t is It':l'i to cause to come, or to bring; .!li,; to know, .!l',i" make one to know, or reveal. And in the passive form, these are 'PEl'i to be caused to visit, l'iO'i to be caused to reign, etc.3

Not only names of actions but also names of th ings which bring it about that a th ing fulfill its function, as I have said, are related to the cause in the same manner. Thus from ,t;lr,l rain it is " t!lOiJ to make it rain, and from ]lit an ear it is l'R\iJ to make an ear perform its function, that is, to listen, and from ti1'itq peace i t is c''ilZiiJ to establish peace or to make firm, and so many more in this manner.

There are, then, six kinds of infin itives, by which both the active and the pas­ sive are expressed. First ,iP'il , etc . , to visit. Second: 'P'il", ,iPEll , etc . , to be vis­ ited. Third: 'PIil, etc . , to visit frequently. Fourth: 'pEl to be visited frequently. Fifth: " PEliJ, etc . , to bring it about that someone visits, or to cause someone to visit. Sixth: (finally) 'pEl'i to be made to visit. And these, as we have said, express the kinds of action whether relating to the active or passive mood.

But because it frequently happens that one and the same person is both the actor and the person acted upon, it was necessary for the Hebrews to form a new and seventh kind of infinitive which should express an action recorded simultaneously in the active and passive, that it, which should have the form of active and passive at the same time. For example in Hebrew it is impossible to say I visit myself through any kind of a personal pronoun, because 'nilt ,iplil means another to visit me, that is, someone visits me, and " P� or " Plil means my visiting someone, that is, that I visit someone. Therefore it was necessary to devise another form of infinitive which would express an action related to the active mood or to the imminent cause; and this is usually expressed by placing before the third kind of infinitive the syllable "", with a dagesh, like 'Pliln" which as we have sa id, means visiting oneself or causing oneself to visit, or something l ike serving to visit oneself. as we shall explain at length in the chapters on Syntax.

2 [Modern grammanans call these pi'el and pu'al J 3. [Modern grammanans call these hiph'il and hoph'al J

630 Hebrew Grammar

CHAPTER 1 3

OF THE CONJUGATION

Up until now we have shown the mutations of the infin itive noun by which it expresses any relationship other than time which it bears either through the con­ struct, or by the addition of a preposition, or by means of suffixes, or for a variety of reasons which are usually given. It remains for us to explain the other causes for mutations and those in which th is type of noun is unusual. That infinitive nouns differ in many ways because of the tense to which they refer and the mode which they express is common to every language; and, because I write largely for those who are versed in other languages, I refrain from expla ining what tense is and what mode is, but I will show only that which among the Hebrews is unusual in this respect.

The Hebrews usually refer actions to no other time than to the past and the future. The reason for th is seems to be that they acknowledge only these two divisions of time, and that they consider the present tense only as a point, that is as the end of the past and the beginning of the future. I say they viewed time to be l ike a l ine consisting of many points each of which they considered the end of one part and the beginning of another. And these tenses are principally differentiated by signs of the person, that is those signs of the person which pre­ cede or are added to certain forms of the infinitive. I said, principally. For the third person past is differentiated from the rest because it never has the sign of person. For example, 'i'�, 'p,� , 'P�, 'P� are forms of the infinitive of the first kind, and they have the power of substantive nouns; but in speech they are gen­ erally used as adjectives which agree with their nominatives in gender, number, and case, and they indicate an action as relating to the past. Hence 'i'� 1'(1;', ?i:l: I'(m, fEl\T 1'(1;'1 means he visited, he was able, he wanted; but ;'1i?� 1'(';' , n';>:l: l't';" ;';;El\T l't';, means she visited, she was able, she wanted. Thus it is clear that the forms of the infinitive are like substan tive adjectives, but when tense and person are determined they become like adjectives which must agree with nominative as well as the substantive, as we have said, in gender, number, and case. This th ird person masculine past is differentiated only in that i t lacks the personal endings; but the others, namely the first and second person singu­ lars, have the endings which are put after these forms l ike t;I'i'� you (m.) have visited, r-Ili'� you (f.) have visited, and 'n1i'� I have visited, etc. , as will be seen in the following.

Next, the forms of the infinitive construct are 'ip5l and 'i'5l and by using the signs of the person prefixed to these as with adjectives, and with the perfect, the future is indicated l ike 'ipEll't or 'i'ElI'( I shall visit, 'iPElr-l you will visit, etc . , as

Chapter 13 63 1

will also be seen in the following. Th is i s true of infinitives when they refer to a certain time.

Now let us see what changes occur in these nouns when they express the dif­ ferent modes . ! Indeed the Hebrews were not very much disturbed by these. For, j ust as cases were recognized only by prepositions or the construction of a sen­ tence, so also were modes generally recognized from adverbs. And, to be sure, almost all nations neglected to modify nouns in order to determine the case as something superfluous; and distinctions of mode seemed superfluous to all. For no nation that I know of distinguishes the interrogative mode from the indicative mode, and we do not see any confusion of speech from it; and so there can be no confusion of speech from it among the Hebrews as long as their language flourishes, if all modes, except the imperative, agree with the indicative.

The Hebrews then distinguish only the imperative mode from the others, namely, by taking the infinitive construct and inflecting it without any sign of person, and without any relationship as to time, in th is manner, '�51 or 'j?51 you visit (m. s . ) " pEl you visit (£ s .) l'PEl you visit (m. p.) . ;"Ip�51 you visit (£ p. ) . But this mode is excessively imperious and is therefore not used in the presence of equals, and much less in the presence of superiors, but rather in its place we usually use the future; whence one may affirm that the past and future of the mode we are treating are not any more indicatives than any other modes by which an action with relationship to time can be expressed.

We have shown all the reasons then for which infin itive nouns are changed into various modes. These changes together with the others we shall call coniu­ galions, and the infinitive nouns, so far as they are thus conjugated, we shall name verbs. We shall say a few words concerning the number of their conjuga­ tions, for not all infinitives (which is a common fault of all languages) are con­ jugated in the same way.

The grammarians usually divide the conjugations into seven, as that many varieties of infinitives are found in each and every action, as we have shown in the previous chapter. But, if th is division is valid then the Latins would have only two, namely, an active and a passive, and the Greeks would have three conjuga­ tions, namely active, passive, and intermediate, and for this reason, irregular verbs are confused with regular verbs, as indeed common grammarians do by fol­ lowing this rule.

But if they say that these seven classes of infinitives all have the same force and they do not differ natu rally but only in the form of conjugation, the Latins, by virtue of their deponent verbs, which are the only ones to differ from active verbs in conjugation, do indeed have only two con jugations.

So that we may teach them more easily we are dividing them into eight, of which the first will be those verbs whose infinitive never contains gutturals nor quiescent letters; second the verbs whose infinitive ends in K; the third whose infinitive ends in ;"I; the fourth whose infinitive ends in n or J) or 1; the fifth

1. [Splnoza here refers to the four modes: mdlcabve, mterrogatlve, subJunctive, and Imperative.]

632 Hebrew Grammar

whose infinitive begins with a ' ; sixth whose infinitive has quiescent 1, " or I'( in the middle; seventh whose infinitive has an 1'(, 01, n, or 11 at the beginning; eighth whose infinitive has a guttural n or 11, or a non-quiescent I'( or 01. I th ink that this is enough to say in general regarding tense, mode, and conjugation.

But perhaps for many who are accustomed to other languages it will seem absurd that I should declare verbs indicating past and future, or in imperative mode, to be adjectives, and that infinitives are to me nothing but substantive adjectives. And th is, I say, might also seem absurd, namely that nouns should require an accusative. In truth the Hebrew language bears testimony that this is not incompatible with the nature of nouns, where indeed nouns, which express action in the abstract, require an accusative, or a case of a verb. For example: The love of the Lord toward the sons of Israel is thus expressed in the Scriptures: n::L'1'( ?Ic'ID' 'l:J nl'( mOl" l it . : The Lord's love of the children onsrae!. The noun love requires the accusative just l ike the verb :JOII'( to love: and similarly, many others will be found, of which in the Syntaxes.

But this should by no means be passed over, that for this reason nouns can serve for infinitives, 01101' nl'( 0I:;Jl1l$7 to a love of the Lord, for to love the Lord, 01)01' nl'( 011$" 7 to a fear of the Lord for to fear the Lord, ;:9 0I1;l�7 to a guilt by it, and many more in this manner.

CHAPTER 1 4

O F VERBS O F THE FIRST CONJUGATION

PARADIGMS Simple Active Verbs (KALl)

The forms of the infinitive in absolute state, as we have already frequently said, are 'p�, 'f'� , 'i?�, and 'P� ; in the construct they are 'p!l and 'i::>!l . The past tense is formed from the absolute in this way:

Fern. OIlPll "" i::>�

Masc. 'f'�

t;I'f'� (he) (she) visited you visited

Fern. OIlPll "" P�

Masc. ,� t;I'�

1. [The term kat, used by modern Hebrew hlStonans, does not occur In Spmoza's work 1

'n1f'� 1'P�

In'f'!l Cn1f'!l 1l'f'�

I visited (common gender) they visited (common gender) you visited Jn1�!l we visited

Chapter 14 633

'n1�� 1'P�

Cn1�El u,��

,� and ,� follow the first formula 'f'�.

The imperative is formed from the construct in this way:

Masculine Feminine " P� and N'!l or

'�!l or 'f'!l you visit (s.) 1'P!l or 1'� you visit (pl . )

The future is formed from the imperative in th is way:

Fern. Masc. Fern. Masc. '�ElI$ I shall visit 'f'El1C

" pEln '�Eln you shall visit " PEln 'f'Eln '�Eln '�El' (he) (she) shall visit 'f'Eln 'f'El'

'�Ell we shall visit 'f'Ell

;'l'pEln { 1'PEln you shall visit nl'f'Eln { 1'PEln

1'PEl' they shall visit 1'PEl'

and nllJ?!l' l ike nl,bl" n;'=>71;) Daniel 8:22, and I Samuel 6: 12 , n;'�iJ n11rl;i'i, etc.

Notes on the Infinitive

We have shown in the proper place that infinitives are decl ined l ike other nouns. I should l ike to add this, that their cases are indicated not only by the preposi­ tional prefixes 7, :1, =>, 0, but also by other prepositions, l ike nin' nnl\i 'l�7 before the destruction of the Lord, that is, before he destrayed, ,;� 'll until the loss, for while they were losing, etc.

Since there are so many infinitive forms in the past tense of every verb it is clear why the same verb uses now this and now that form, l ike 7!� (Numbers 6: 1 5 ) and 7;')1 (2 Samuel 5 : 1 0) to grow, 1::1' and 1::11 to speak, and others sim­ ilarly. To be sure in Isaiah 47: 14 Cl;ln't occurs. Although in the Scriptures there is not found an infinitive with a double kametz , , I do not doubt that the Hebrews did have these and all the other forms of the infinitive which I mentioned. For, as I sa id, among the Hebrews verbs are adjectives which agree with the nomina­ tive in gender, number, and case; and these adjectives absolutely point to the infinitive, without using a nominative as if it were a substantive without gender.

634 Hebrew Grammar

And when you take completely any form of the past and the imperative without the nominative you are expressing the infinitive. Nay more, but also the partici­ ple itself, as I shall show in its place, can become a substantive, and may be used for an infinitive. N.B . " rv '10'nl!:;l Isa iah 3 1 : 1 .

Further, i t is customary to supplement the past infin itive with the paragogic letter ;' wh ich in the construct is changed to n. Thus from :Ji,p i t is ;'�'i? to approach, whose construct is n�i'p. To this construct the suffixes are added in this manner 'n�lj?" '1n�'i?, in�'i?, my, your, his approach, etc. So from ?i=>' to be able it is ;'7=>;, and in the construct n'i:,' , l ike ;,i;,' n?=>' 'r-I?::lO because the Lord is not able, and with suffixes added it is 'r-I?�" '1r-1?�" ir-l?�' my, your, his ability, etc.

Further, instead of a ;" we are able to add a l to the infinitive, an example of which is found in the book of Esther chapter 9, verse 5, where 11:J!;t to persist is found instead of ,�.

Next, the constru�t ipel, if it lacks an accent, changes the cholem to kametz chatuf, l ike 1?0-170 'lEl? before the reign of the king.

Finally, the example in Ezra 1 0: 1 7, where 1!;-1" ,? occurs instead of tDi''"!7 to inquire, which the grammarians note as an exception, to me seems as something strange and I do not venture to explain it .

Notes on the Past Tense

,�, 'i?�, ,�, and 'P� differ from infinitives, as we have said, in that they are in the past tense, mascul ine in gender, and singular in number, and in the infini­ tive they have no gender nor number; and this difference is easily recognized by practice in speech itself.

The feminine ;'lP�, when it has the accent mnlC or P1?'O, changes the sheva into a kametz, cholem, or tsere, that is into the mascul ine form, without that change of sound which came from the addition of the ;" so that the femi­ nine form 'p.� is ;'18� ; and from 'P�, ;'l;::;� ; and, finally, from '�, ;'l�.

t;I'f'� has the letter r-I a s characteristic o f the second person , taken from the pronoun ;,t;llt you; and sometimes the ;, from the pronoun also remains, l ike ;,t;I'-f, but more often it is usual to omit it.

Verbs which end in n lose it in the second and first persons, and are com­ pensated by a dagesh in the succeeding n, l ike n,�, t;I,�, n1�, 'r-I'� he cu� you cut, I cut.

n'f'� in the second person feminine has the ending taken from the feminine pronoun r-Ilt you; and the obsolete 'r-Ilt, which we noted above is the obsolescent expression '''''i?� for ..,,� l ike Ruth 3: 3 'n:!:>!!', you slept (f.) for l;1��1; and so many more which have been corrected by the Massorites doubtless because they were obsolete.

'''''i?� has the ending from the pronoun 'll:t I. The gender is common as everywhere in the first person.

11j��, the ending in the plural is the same as with the pronoun, which ends

Chapter 14 635

in the plural , as we have noted above, in 1 and not C" l ike the rest of the adjec­ tives. It occurs also for euphony with the paragogic 1 l ike l U" ,; they knew. I believe that the ancients were accustomed to distinguish here the mascul ine from the feminine by the qu iescent IC and il , namely, they visited (m.) 1C1'P� they visited (f.) il'�. Examples of this sort are found in the Scriptures, l ike Deut. 2 1 :7 il:lEl!!i ic" 1l',: our hands did not spill, and Joshua 1 0:24 'tzjl� 1C1:l'iilil ilon'ioil men of war who went. But later writers seem to have disre­ ga ;d,;'.i' the;e' qui�cent letters, because in the pronunciation no difference is able to be sensed, and also because they might be confused with paragogic letters.

Moreover, when the accent is mnlC or p1'i'O the penultimate sheva is changed, as in the singular th ird person feminine, into a " , or a cholem, becoming in place of 1'P� either 1'j?,�, 1'i?� or 1'�.

Finally cn,f'El, 1�1j?1l and 1l'� take on the endings from the pronouns Cl'l�, ll'1� you and 1ln,1$ We.

Notes on the Imperative

I have placed the imperative before the future, because the latter is formed from the former, and because the future is very frequently used in place of the imper­ ative, so that it is possible to affirm that the future among the Hebrews agrees both with the indicative and the imperative modes.

We have said that the forms of the imperative are 'pll and 'f'll , if you please also 'P.ll; to which the paragogic i1 is not rarely added, so that from 'Pll it is illP�, and from 'f'El it is illi?!l (m.) you visit! From this comes the infinitive form illtt'" il:(�iJ and with the accent athnach or siluk it is il1i?1l ; when the accent is el iminated, as in the infinitive, it changes the cholem into a kametz cha tuf, l ike "'I'i-'il;Ill hew thyself

Notes on the Future

'pElIC and 'f'ElIC, when the paragogic il is added to them, change the cholem and patach into a sheva, and become ilipElIC I shall visit. But when accented with either an mrlC or a p1'i'O the cholem remains, and the · changes to " becoming i11�1C and illP'El�.

And ',PEll'l with the paragogic 1 becomes l:'PEll'l you (f.) will visit, and from the form 'f'Ell'l it is l:'i?Ell'l, namely changing the . to a • on account of the fol­ lowing chirek.

'PEll, when the paragogic il is added to i� changes the cholem into and becomes illi?Ell , but accented with mnlC and p1'i'O, l ike in first person singu­ lars the c?n is reta ined and the . changes to a "

And 1'P�l'I with paragogic 1 becomes P'PEll'l and ll'f.'Ell'l and P'PEll'l. If it has a dividing accent it retains the form of the singular becoming 11pEll'I and 11i?Ell'l you (m. p.) will visit. Before a monosyllable, because the accent should

636 Hebrew Grammar

be on the penultimate, a shurek is usually used in place of a cholem, l ike 1t!11!l1Zi' COT (Exod. 1 8:26) they judged themselves. Finally in the case of Leviticus 2 1 : 5 OT\Tli? OTnli?' K? I believe i t to b e a mistake o f the copyist who wrote OT\T'i? twice hastily.

OTl'PEln and OTl1j?Eln: the OT can be left off, l ike l!!i�,;>n dressed; and as from the feminine singular 'P�'" the third person plural can become 1'pEln , so that both in s ingular and in plural, the th ird person feminine agrees with the second person masculine. Thus Jeremiah 49: I m�:m '7-!' "1'n1ll:l';>�1 and let your wid­ ows trust in me, in place of OTln�:m . The reason the letter t!I has the . in place of the is that the • is used on account of the P1';>'C, as we have said it is every­ where.

CHAPTER 1 5

OF PASSIVE VERBS (NIPH'AL')

The sign of the passive is a l prefixed to the verb, which requires often to be com­ pensated by a dagesh, because never do two signs (characteristics) attach to a verb. Therefore their forms of infinitive are 'j?Ell, '�PEll, 'p�n, and 'ip�n . The l in the two which have a n is compensated by a dagesh. Of the two first the forms are produced in this manner.

f. nlPEll mj?Ell

The Past m.

'j?Ell or '�PEll he is visited. t;!'j?Ell

'''''j?Ell 1'PEll

C"" j?Ell 1l'j?Ell

The Imperative f.

" �n OTll�n

m. '�n

1'�n

1 [Here agam, the term niph'al is not used by Spmoza 1

Another Fonn of the Imperative f. m .

" f'£ll '�l OTl'P£ll 1'P.£ll

The Future f. m.

,�It and ,�It ,�t-1 ,�' '�l

OTpp�m and

OTl1i��m

Notes

1'p�m

Chapter 15 637

Al though in the Scriptures the infinitive 'pEll does not occur, nevertheless it is certain from what was said above that the formulas of all modes express the infinitive when they are used as substantives which are of no gender; and truly there is no reason why this form of infinitive should less be able to express the past, than the form 'pEll especially when it is possible to use both forms in the past tense, l ike 01t-1n, and Ol:l�l it is sealed.

Verbs which end in n leave it off in the first and second person, compensat­ ing it with a dagesh. Th is will be observed in what follows: that not only the n, but also where any other doubled letter occurs, the first should always have a qui­ escent sheva, l ike OTlil�n in place of OTl1il�n. For if this were not so (as was said in Chapter 3) , then the sheva . would have to be pronounced, when otherwise it always is silent. It should be observed that when the verb has the accent nlnlt or P1'?'O, the last syllable, if it is long, remains and it is not changed to a sheva, as it otherwise should. I said if it is long, for were it a patach, it would be changed to a kametz; for example from the future 'Plillt when the paragogic OT is added it is OT1P�1t I am visited. But if it has a pausal accent, the tsere is reta ined, becoming OT1P�It. But OTli?51l she is visited, with a similar accent does not reta in the patach of the mascul ine '�l but changes to a " becoming OTlp,6l ; on the other hand the cholem of the mascul ine 'PEll , because it is long, remains, becoming OTl�Ell . This rule will be observed wherever verbs have a sheva mobile in the penultimate. I do not need to mention this constantly.

The imperative 'PIil" , because it occurs frequently in the Scriptures, is con­ sidered regular; but in the form of '�l, " P.£ll, etc . , because it occurs only once in the Bible (namely, Joel chap. 4, vs. 1 1 ) , is considered either as irregular, or

638 Hebrew Grammar

completely neglected. I do not know whether they believed the purpose of the Scriptures to be the language rather than the teachings.

Finally, the future in this con jugation is augmented for the sake of elegance, as in the active verb, with the paragogic iT, l ike iTl�l't for '::l�l't I am honored; nor is it inelegant in the plural of the same to add a 1 after the 1, l ike pn1;P' for 1n1;P' they were cut of{; which is being used also in the conjugations to follow.

CHAPTER 1 6

O F THE ACTIVE INTENSIVE VERB WITH A DAGESH (PI'EL')

We touched briefly above upon the significance of this verb form only because we wanted to show its origin; but since it has various uses it is necessary that we expla in it accurately, because already something of its manner has been dis­ cussed . The principal and common use of th is form is to intensify the simple verb. This is done in various ways, either by rendering an intransitive verb into a transitive, or by broadening its significance, or by expressing it with feel ing, etc. For example rrr;liil means to be happy rr� renders the verb from the intransitive into transitive and signifies to make someone hapf1Y; and these changes apply also to nominal verbs, l ike 1:;J, to make words or speak, which is from 1:;Il a word. rr� means to send somebody somewhere while rr'l>!Zi means to dismiss someone, namely an assembly, a servant, etc. Next 1::l!!i (Belgian schillen) means he broke, 1:;Jt!i means he broke strongly or he destroyed.

By the way, this verb sometimes has mean ing con trary to the simple active verb, l ike �� he sinned, l't�rr he fYUrified. But since this form of usage seems already to have disappeared from the language, one should not form new forms in this manner except those which are found in Scriptures. The infinitive forms are 'PIO, 'pel, ';PIO, and ,ip51.

Past f. m.

'p51 ';I'jP51 'nljP51

3. sing. 2. 1 .

1 [Spino:za does not use thiS term.]

Imperative f. m.

" PIO 'P'" rrl'i"" 1'PIO

Future £ m.

'P�tt 1 . sing. " p!;ln 'p!;ln 2 . 'p!;ln 'P!l' 3 .

1'P51 lmf?51 I:lmj;>51

1l'j;>51

3. plur. 2. I .

'�l { 1'p51n ;1l1�n . • . . . 1'�' Notes on the Infinitive

Chapter 16

I. plur. 2. 3.

To the infinitive form 'P� the paragogic " is added for elegance, becoming "lPI,l, and with the athnach or siluk "lj?l,l to visit often, changing the sheva into a tsere.

Incidentally, to th is form of the infinitive there is sometimes prefixed the definite article " , l ike l " 'I:lP' ,IDle ,t9piJ,2 and that burnt offering that they offered (et illud suffumigare, quod suffumigabant). En dat geduurig Wierooken (Jer. 44:2 1 ) . In Belgian, the continuous burnt offering. So ,:l'iJ the speak­ ing (illud loqui), dat hoog spreken, dat kaekelen zal kaekelen zal gedaan zi;n. In Belgian, the lofty speaking/the sounds like cackl ing. The " serves here not so much to indicate a definite action, bu t also to express action with indignation , reproach, aversion, or some other emotion; and for this reason I believe that th is definite article " can be placed only before a pi'el form of the verb.

Next if the middle radical is a " which cannot have a dagesh, then the pre­ vious short syllable changes to long, namely a . into a " and a chirek into a tsere, l ike l'f instead of T'1:;1, and 1'1:;1 instead of T'1:l to bless (see Numbers 23 :24).

But grammarians think that the dagesh is also compensated by a cholem, when the middle radical is a ' or any other letter that does usually admit a dagesh. But they are mistaken; because those of this conjugation which have a cholem and a tsere are not intensive verbs but simple verbs whose infinitives, as we have already sa id, have the form of a participle, namely by taking the partici­ ple without any relationship as to gender. Thus I:lJiI to detest is really a simple verb whose infinitive is the participle itself taken without a substantive, and if to this the paragogic " is added it becomes "1;l1l1, which is also used in place of the infinitive, j ust l ike the infinitive ,il:il!i observe and 'i�! keep, of which in the section on Syntax. But here I speak expressly of verbs of th is conjugation. As for conjugations of verbs which have as the middle radical a vav or yod l ike 1':l to discern, 1:l1p to arise, the in tensives are without a dagesh, but the third radical is doubled in place of the second, becoming Jli:l from p, and I:ll:iip from 1:l1p. But of th is in its place. What deceived the grammarians, I think, is nothing else than that they didn't believe that there exists a simple active verb 1V'l� to take roo� to root out; and so they considered its participle, tzi,rv, which occurs in Isaiah 40:24 as the past tense of an intensive verb of the first conjugation, and

2 . [This seems a ITIlsquotation. The proper citation I S Jer. 44:2 1 , OI;l�P ""mt( 1t;ljiltfnK, "The offering whICh ye offered "-M.!.M. ]

639

640 Hebrew Grammar

confused it with the passive !Zilizi from the intensive verb rv'1lZi. The double meaning of th is verb helped not a l ittle in th is, where one is plainly contrary to the other (if we should have fa ith in the punctuators of the Bible). In chapter 3 1 o f job i t means to root out; i n jer. 1 2:2 i t means to take root. Truly I doubt the passage in jer. , or else the punctuators instead of 1!Zill!i have punctuated 1!Dlizi. But of th is enough.

Further, in the form ,� without the accent, the changes to like 1'7-1:1"1 speak to you.

Finally, of verbs whose second and th ird radical is the same letter, the inten­ sive usually doubles the firs� inserting the dupl icate letter between the second and the third radicals, l ike 7p7p from 717 to be neat, 10� to protect from 1::>1;1 to cover, 7l7; to revolve from 77� to roll, and so the others.

Notes on the Past Tense

The past tense often changes the Isere into a patach, like 1:11Zi and 1:;t1Zi to break in pieces, or into a segal, like 1:1' he has spoken.

Notes on the Imperative

The imperative also often changes the Isere into a patach, and before the makaf into a segal, and from '� it becomes either 'iPIO or 'P'", and il11iPIO, in place of ill"1PIO . For the rest it agrees in all with the infinitive.

Notes on the Future

From 'P��, adding the paragogic il, it becomes illi?��, and with the accent athnach or siluk illP'J!C; from 1'PlO" 1'�n adding the paragogic l, it becomes P'P�'. , SO that the paragogic il renders the penultimate short from long, the l on the other hand makes it long from short. Finally in place of ill'p�n i t is often, as in the imperative ilr!iP�n.

Chapter 17 64 1

CHAPTER 1 7

OF PASSIVE INTENSIVE VERBS (PU'AL1)

Infinitive The Past The Imperative is lacking

The Future

f. m. '1'El iT1j?ll 'i?�

mjPll t;lli?!l 'nli?El

11P.!l 11'1 c\1'i?El

1l'i?El

3. sing. 2. 1 . 3 . pI. 2. 1 .

f.

�'i?!lt;l 'i?Eln

m. li?!l� 3. sing. l�n 2. 'i?!l' 1 . 'i?Ell 3 . pI . { 1,=n 2. m'i?Eln , � -

. , . 11pEl' I .

The use of this form o f the verb i s very rare, nor is there in the Scriptures any other form of it in the infinitive. On the contrary, I remember to have seen it in the Scriptures only a single time;2 but, I do not doubt that the future 'i?!l!C is formed from another form of the formula 'jPll , and consequently, that the Hebrews had, in addition to the infinitive 'P'l also the form 'jPll . For besides that we have shown that the future is everywhere formed from the infinitive, in the rest of the conjugations, as we shall see, the infinitive has a patach wh ich, however, agrees with the others in the rest of the tenses. In addition I do not doubt that they had a th ird form 'i?5l with a kametz chatuf, because th is is also used in the other conjugations, and the and . chatuf have the same force as you will see below in Chapter 19 .

However, since the middle radical is a " which does not admit a dagesh, the is changed into a cholem, like "nit!! to be tom in piece •.

Finally, because this passive form is sufficiently distinguished from the active by the vowels, on that account the letter l , the characteristic of the passive, was most often neglected. Usually, however, it was also added, and in place of 'i?!1 as a rule '�l was written l ike "C1� 17�" ll C:l'j''' your hand. are polluted with

1 [This term IS not used by Spinoza. -M L.M.] 2. [Spinoza IS probably refernng to Gen. 40· 1 5 .-M.L.M.J

642 Hebrew Grammar

blood, the l being punctuated with c'ih because of the succeeding 1'(, which cannot take a dagesh. The grammarians note this as an exception because it occurs only rarely in the Scriptures, as if composed of a simple passive and inten­ sive verb. To be sure, as we have said, they wrote grammar of the Scriptures, not of the language. I believe, however, that in the future tense this letter 1 was always neglected because on account of the characteristic of the person, it had to be poin ted with a dagesh; and, since the letters El and P also had to be dou­ bled, it could scarcely be pronounced.

CHAPTER 1 8

O F THE DERIVATIVE (CAUSATIVE) VERB (HIPH'IL1)

We have shown above in Chapter 12 that this verb is derived or formed from the names of things or actions, that is from either a substantive noun or a simple verb. When it is formed from a simple verb it requires an active accusative, namely, a person upon whom the action is visited, and it takes a nominative as the remote cause, namely, the person who causes another to be visited. But when it is formed from a noun, it has the force of a simple verb, the reason for which can be easily understood from what was said there. Truly we have sa id that by this verb is expressed what anyone does in order that a thing should accompl ish its own function, that is, that actually it has its own proper use. So that when this verb is formed from a simple verb, then it signifies that someone brings it about that an efficien t cause (or that which we understand as a nominative of simple active verb) may actually accompl ish its use. But when it is formed from a noun then it signifies nothing else but that someone simply makes use of a th ing. And therefore it happens that this verb doesn't always have an active accusative, but they are l ike the verbs of the first form (kal) both active and passive (transitive and intransitive), as we have shown above by many examples. Its forms in the infinitive are " PEl;,! , " PElO, 'PElO, and 'PElO, etc.

From those the tenses are formed in this manner:

1 . [This term IS not used by Spinoza. -M.L.M.]

Chapter 1 8

The Past f. m .

"TpEl" " PEl" 3 . sing. mpEl" !;1'PEl" 2.

'mpEl" I . 1" PEl" 3. pI.

lmpEl" OmpEl" 2 . 1l'PEl" 1 .

The Imperative f. m.

" 'PEliJ 'PEliJ 2 . sing. "lipEliJ 1" PEliJ 2. pI.

The Future f. m.

" PEl� I . sing. " 'PEl." " PEltJ 2 . " PEl." " j?El' 3 .

" j?Ell_ 1 . pI.

{ 1" PEl." 2 . "l'PEl." 1" j?El' 3. or

" pEltJ 2. f. 'PEl." 2. 'PEl� I .

Notes

It is characteristic of th is form that the " never changes to a n as many gram­ marians think, because they are misled by a text in Hosea I I : 3. For 'n'i�1n, as Moses Kimchi* rightly states, is a noun, and is the nominative of the succeeding verb OIJ!?, the final " however, is paragogic, often being added to nouns for the sake of elegance. For as from n:l"K it becomes 'n:li]k, and from n:l;1l't it becomes 'n:l'�l't so also from n'il1n i t becomes 'n'inn , and it means a woman who reaches children to walk, to talk, etc. Those who think otherwise plainly do not understand the text. Also, grammarians think that the characteristic of th is

",tnN N'lDn 'J1'r.l7£lM 1" 'J) n�l 'n" ,n '�r cnp: That IS, the word cnp IS rnascuime, and 'r-'I" 'r-l IS feminine gender, in the same way as occurs in Jeremiah 49. l 6 1J;1'lt It'!Dil '9rn7Er-l

643

644 Hebrew Grammar

verb may change into an It, namely in Isa iah chap. 63, vs. 3 . But I th ink that of this there is no instance given in the Scriptures; but I do not deny that it is per­ missible. For a verb whose characteristic is n;"l usually changes ;"I into It and chirek into . About this matter see Chapter 20.

C HAPTER 19

OF THE DERIVATIVE PASSIVE VERB (HOPH'AL')

The infin itive forms are 'P�� and 'f'El� and I believe it may also become 'p�;r. For the passive is distinguished from the active by the kibbutz and kametz chatuf, whence:

The Past The Imperative £ m. £ m.

;"I1pEljJ ,�� } " PEl� 'f'El� sing. and 3 . S ing. ;"In::>El� l'PEl� plur.

. . . j} '�;"I n1f'El� 1;I'f'El� } The Future

ana 2. £ m. . . . ry I;I'�<:T 'f'Elt' and 'f'ElIt I. sing.

etc. 'I;I'�� I . " pEll;I 'f'Eln 2. 1'P£l� 3. plur. 'f'Elt;J ,�: 3.

In . . . . I:In'f'El� 2. 'f'El) I . plur. 1l'�� I .

;"Il'f'Elt;! { l'PElt;J 2. l'PEl; 3. The imperative of the verb is most rare. However, it is found in Ezekiel chap.

32, vs. 1 9 with the paragogic ;"l and Job chap. 2 1 , vs. 22 and it seems to mean to make one to be visited, l ike the section in Ezekiel 1:1'7")1' nit ;"I:tw�, ;"11', descend, and be thou laid with the uncircumcised. Its meaning is easily recog­ nized in the past and future from the active meaning, as I have expla ined suffi­ ciently. However, the reason that many say that th is verb form lacks the

1. [Term not used by Spinoza. -M.L.M.] 2. [ I t is not found in the verse cited by Spmoza. Perhaps he refers to verse 5 in the same chapter'OtOiJ "and be astonished."]

Chapter 20 645

imperative is because it is not possible to command any one to an action which depends on others. This is easy to contradict; the imperative mode means both to command and to wish. When God sa id to Moses, "Die upon the Moun�" He did not really command that he should die, but rather He expressed His decree and purpose concerning the l ife of Moses.

CHAPTER 20

OF THE ACTIVE REFLEXIVE VERBS (HITHPAEL')

We shall call th is the reflexive verb, because, as we have already sa id, by it we express what an object experiences from its own self; or rather, because the accusative is not a different thing from the nominative, l ike when a man visits himself, is refreshed, when he entreats himself, when he guards himself. etc. Or when a man causes himself to visit another, applies himself toward walking, toward knowing, etc.

Thus the significance of this verb is dual , of which one looks toward the verb form ,� and the other toward the verb " PEl;"!. For inasmuch as ,� means that someone visits another, we need another verb form which can mean that someone is visiting himself; and inasmuch as " PEl;"! means that someone is mak­ ing (causing) another to visit there is similarly a need for another verb form which can mean that someone is making himself to be visited.

This verb form is recognized by the syllable n;"! placed before the form 'PEl and 'PEl; l ike 'pEln;"! , to visit oneself or to cause to visit oneself, �'n;"! to station oneself (Spanish paraTSe: to halt oneself), l�iJn;"! to walk about (Span­ ish paseaTSe, andarse). This syllable can also, on account of the characteris­ tics of time, be removed and be compensated by a dagesh, as I shall presently show.

Next, if the first radical is one of the dental letters, namely C or tV then the n is transposed; if however it is a 1 or � then it is not transposed, but rather the 1 changes into a , and the � into a t!I. Thus from 1� to guard i t becomes 1r,)lJtV;"! to guard oneself, or to make oneself to be guarded, and from Pl� to be just i t becomes P1��;"! to justify oneself (Belgian ;rich ontschuldigen: to justify oneself), and finally from 1r.l1 to prepare (something at the right time) it becomes 1r.lll;"! to prepare oneself at the right time.

Finally the ;"! can change into an Ie and the accompanying chirek into a segol, l ike 1::1Jjnle to join oneself instead of 1::1Jjn;"! .

1. [Term not used by Spinoza .-M.L.M.]

646 Hebrew Grammar

The forms of the infinitive are 'Pfilm, 'jPf,lnn, 'PIOl;1I(t, 'IZltJ!Zin, p'��n , and 11Zl'1n, to which no doubt form 'Pfilm should be added. For the past of this verb form can also end in a chirek. See Lev. 1 1 :44 and 20:7, and Ezekiel 38 last verse. Further, since its first meaning looks to the form ,� or 'P�, then the second which looks to the verb " P£ln ought to be able to end no less in a chirek than in a patach or tsere.

f. n1PIOnn

The Past m.

'PIOnn } and 3. sing.

'Pliln l;I'!?IOnn 2.

'm�nn I . l'Pfilnn 3 . pI.

em!?IOnn 2 . ll'RIOnn I .

The Imperative f.

" pIOnn O"q'Pfilnn

m. 'pIOnn sing.

l'penn pI .

The Future f. m.

'Pfilnl-t I . sing. " p.IOnr-l 'Pfilnr-l 2. 'pIOnr-l 'Pfiln' 3.

'Pfilnl I . pI.

nl'p�nr-l { l'p5lnr-l 2. l'Pfiln' 3. Notes

This verb form has in common with the simple and intensive verbs that the ulti­ mate tsere changes into a patach, but the chirek is reta ined, and is not changed into a patach in the second and first person l ike " pEln. So in Ezekiel 38, last

Chapter 21 647

verse, is fuund 'n,?,,-n;r magnify myself. 'n!Zi'�nOT sanctify myself. and Lev. chap. 1 1 , vs. 44 and chap. 20, vs. 7, Cnt!i'�nm sanctify yourselves.

Also the patach is everywhere retained, in the past as well as in the impera­ tive and future, except when the accent is athnach or siluk. For then it changes into a _ .

Next, verbs whose first radical is 1'1 , o r to o r 1 lose the letter 1'1 , and compen­ sate it by a dagesh, l ike 1i!t,'lOT he purified himself for 1i!t;lnOT.

In the future the OT is disregarded altogether because of the personal pronom­ inal prefixes; but the 1'1 can be compensated by a dagesh, l ike l't:111'1 in place of l't:ll.nn, make yourself a prophet; which also occurs in the past, l ike 'nl't:ll.OT for '1'Il't:Jl.nOT, I made myself a prophet or I applied myself to prophesy.

Also, I have neglected to note here about these verbs that the sheva mobile is changed into a - on account of an athnach or siluk; and that to the plural end­ ing in 1 frequently a 1 is added, and to the infinitives, and all others which end l ike infinitives, a OT is added fur elegance; and finally that the future th ird person plural feminine gender coincides with the second person plural mascul ine gen­ der, as it does in the singular, because they have all this in common with simple verbs, where all this is noted.

CHAPTER 2 1

OF THE PASSIVE REFLEXIVE VERB (HOTHPAAL')

This verb form seems ignored by all the grammarians whom I know, and on that account I had chosen to be silen t about it, until it became necessary to deal with it Although the meaning of the active reflexive verb may look toward both the verb 1� and 1'P£lOT the passive does not ever look to 1�Ell but always to 1�El;;r. For it never means to be visited by oneself but to expose oneself to be visited, or to make it that one is visited by oneself The reason for this (as I shall show under Syntax) , is that among the Hebrews passive verbs do not have an ablative fol­ lowing them. For the Hebrews use the passive form only for brevity, namely to indicate not an active but a passive activity, l ike lll;l!Zil ''?ip my voice is heard; but when it is necessary for them to indicate in both directions, l ike my voice is heard by God, then the active form of the verb is used, namely ''?ip lll;l!!i OTiOT.' the Lord

1. [Term not used by Spinoza .-M.L.M.]

648 Hebrew Grammar

heard my voice. But l1il1'C llr,l!Zil '''�P is inappropriate in common speech. The verb form 'p�nl1, insofar as it means to visit oneself. cannot have a passive; but insofar as it means that someone makes himself to be visiting, it does have the pas­ sive form 'jP;lniJ, which, as we have said, means to cause oneself to be visited, or to effect that he is visited, like Numbers 2: 33 1'P,iilniJ l't'? 0"'';;:11 and the Levites were not (caused to be) numbered among the children of Israel. And Deu!. 24:4, l1\!/iltill1 'tlitt 'lCT� after that she is defiled, where the n because of the to is com­ pensated by a dagesh, as in the active.

Next, this verb form differs from its active form in the same way as the pas­ sive reflexive differs from " P£ll1. For as from " P£ll1 the passive is 'pEliJ and 'i?Ell1, so from 'pElnl1 it is 'p;lniJ and 'p;lnil l ike the form of the examples we have shown.

Next, the n may also be supplanted with a dagesh, as in the active form, l ike ll�iJ m, 0:;J�l1 '1t)� after (he made it that) the plague is washed out (by itself) (Lev. 3 : 5 5 ) , or (after it happened that the plague washed itself out). Note that the plague is in the accusative case, which will be explained in the Syntax.

Finally, in place of a l1 a 1 may be substituted (namely the form of the pas­ sive of the simple verb and intensive) and the n may be compensated by a dagesh, l ike Deu!. 2 1 :8, 0liJ 0l1'? "1!l�l' and the blood shall be forgiven them, in place of '!l�n,1 . Thus I am persuaded that the letter 1 is the universal char­ acteristic form of passive, but in all cases, except in simple passive verbs, it is omitted for the reasons I have mentioned in Chapter 17 .

These a re the forms of the infinitive of this con jugation 'jP;lniJ, 'p;lnl1 or 'p;ll1, 'p;lnl or 'p;ll .

The past tense, the imperative, and the future agree with the active in the remaining forms.

CHAPTER 22

OF VERBS OF THE SECOND CONJUGATION (�"")

We have said that these verbs of the second conjugation are the verbs which end in an It, namely in a guttural and quiescen t letter. Wherein these differ from verbs of the first conjugation will be shown by the paradigm.

Paradigm of the Simple Active Verb (Kal) The forms of the infinitive are 1t��C, It�C, 1t�'C, 1t·'�1;l, 1t�1;l, 1t�1;l, or with the par­ agogic l1 l1�1;l, and also nltl!c in place of nlC�c.

Chapter 22

1 . Past 2. Another Fonn 3 . Another Fonn f. m. m. f. m.

n�1;l or iT��(;l �1;l 3. sing. iT��(;l 1C�1;l 3. iT�(;l 1C�1;l 3. nlC�1;l l;I�1;l 2 . nlC�1;l l;IlC�1;l 2. n�1;l l;IlC�1;l 2.

'n�1;l 1 . 'nlC�r,l I . 'nlC�r,l I . llC\1;l 3 . pI . llC�1;l 3. 1�1;l 3 .

In cnlC�c 2 . In cnlC�c 2. In cnlC�1;l 2. ll�1;l I . 1llC�1;l I . lllC�1;l I .

The form 'f'� does not appear here, and o n that account the second · and tsere are reta ined in the remaining persons and not changed to patach as in verbs of the first conjugation. Further, the form 1C�1;l is not found in the past and I believe it is not used. Finally, in the second and third forms the IC is mainly omitted, l ike 'n71;l in place of 'nlC71;l I am full.

Imperative Future f. m. f. m.

,�c IC�C sing. IC�CIC 1. sing. or 'lC�cn lC�cn 2.

1C��1;l lC�cn IC�C' 3. ;q�c or l�c llC�C pI. etc.

The imperative with paragogic iT does not change the sheva into a chirek, as in verbs of the first conjugation, but it remains together with the kametz, mak­ ing it instead of IC�C into iT�C (you) /indo These facts together with what we have noted above about the pas� are the peculiarities of this verb form; for the rest it agrees with the verbs of the first conjugation . Let me now go into the par­ adigm of the passive verb of this con jugation.

Paradigm of a Simple Passive Verb (Niph'aP)

Infinitives 1 . 2 .

and

1 . [Term not used by Spinoza .-M.L.M.]

3 .

649

650 Hebrew Grammar

The Past 1 . 2 . 3 . (without the K )

f. m. m. f. m. iT�1:ll K::>1:ll m!�1:ll K::>1:ll 3 . iTl;I::>1:ll K�1:ll 3 .

�nd } 3 . sing. iTK::>\ll iTK::>1:ll 2. iT::>1:ll l;I::>1:ll 2. iTl,C>1:ll K::>1:ll 'iTK::>1:ll 1 . 'iT::>1:ll 1 .

or 1K::>1:ll 3 . 1::>1:ll 3 . iTl;lI$::>1:ll iTK::>1:ll l;IK::>ll! 2 . liT CiTK::>1:ll 2. liT CiT::>1:ll 2.

'iTK::>1:ll 1 . 1lK::>1:ll 1 . U::>1:ll 1 . 1K::>1:ll 3. pI. or

liT CiTK::>1:ll 2 . iT::>1:ll l;I::>1:ll 1lK::>1:ll 1 . 'iT::>1:ll

etc.

The imperative and the future agree in everything with the imperative and future of the first con jugation. Further, the remaining verbs of this conjugation differ from the verbs of the first in the same way as we see these two �I;l and K�1:ll differ from 'j:'� and 'j:'Ell ; namely that instead of a patach, a kametz is inserted in every place, but in its place a chirek is substituted in the second and first persons; except in K"::>OiT where the chirek in the first and second person changes to tsere, l ike l;IK::>l.:liT, 'iTK::>OiT, 1K"::>OiT, CiTK::>OiT, etc . ; and also that the tsere is always retained and not changed into a patach , like 'P� 'P-l and finally that the K may also be omitted.

CHAPTER 2 3

O F THE VERBS OF THE THIRD CONJUGATION (ll"?)

This conjugation consisting of verbs ending in iT does not differ much from the preceding one; indeed it conforms with it very often . This is because the K may frequently serve in place of the iT, and contrarily the iT may frequently serve in place of the K. They differ only in that while a verb ending in K most frequently reta ins it and only rarely does it change the , into a ch irek in the second and first persons, on the other hand, those ending in a iT rarely reta in it, and they are frequently wont to change the , into a long ch irek and rarely into a short one. Next, they differ also in another way; the iT may be punctuated with a P'!l1;l and the verb is not punctuated by a double , but a , and a - , l ike the verbs of the first conjugation. Four verbs of this group have been observed; namely, i'1�l,

Chapter 23 6 5 1

i'I/;l:;>, m.l, i'Ir,1i;1, which a re conjugated l ike verbs of the lirst conjugation, and for this reason I consider them to be of that group.

Further, certa in of these verbs ending in iT have a peculiarity which we will note in its place after the paradigm. Here may I add this in general to be heard by all: lirs� that a iT after a ch irek and tsere and shurek usually changes to ' and after a c?in into a 1 ; second, that a linal iT either because of an additional syl­ lable or on account of the construct changes into a 1'1; and linally, that a quies­ cent and guttural letter usually in terchange one for the other, or one may even omit them . Indeed, we have already shown above that a iT after a sheva fre­ quently disappears. And that this may be observed in verbs, as in nouns, will be evident from the following paradigm.

Paradigm of a Simple Verb (Kal ') of the Third Conjugation

The inlinitive has the following forms KiT),?�, It��, i?�, '?�, n;?�, ;i?�, and n;?�, or with the paragogic ' . 'n;?l.

The Past The Imperative The Future f. m. f. m. f. m.

l;I�� iT'?} iTl;I�P' iT,?� 3. sing. '?� iT?� sing. iT?11$ I. sing. n"?} and n'?l l;I'?� 2. iTl'?� 1?� pI . '?In iT?ln 2.

'n'?� I . and iT?l1'1 iT?r 3. 1''?� or 1?} 3. pI. 1''?� iT?ll I. pI.

11'1 Cn"?� 2. iTl'?l1'1 { l?l1'1 2. 1l'?� I . 1?l' 3 . and

1''?l' and 1'?r

Notes

We have already noted that an iT can come in place of a K, or be altogether omit­ ted either in the lirst and second persons plural of the past and in all the futures, and that a yod is not substituted in its place, but it is con jugated l ike �I;l. But this should be noted lirst, that when the iT is removed in the future its accent is moved toward its lirst syllable, and the sheva changes into a segol, becoming I. ?l.K, 2. ?�1'1, 3. ?�:. etc. But if the middle radical of the root is one of the mutes or qui­ escent letters, then the sheva remains, l ike ::ltD' in place of iT::ltD' to take captive,

1. [Term not used by Spinoza .-M.L.M.]

652 Hebrew Grammar

and PID' to drink. When a " is changed into a yod, then the vowels are trans­ posed, and they are 1. ,,,�, 2. '''l.." 3. '''l." etc. , in place of "71�' "71"', ""1'.

Next, the " of the verb usually is changed not into a " but into a yod when another n is added. So "91J has the feminine ;r:c:l1J instead of "t;lCIJ · SO ""1� with the added paragogic " becomes not "t;I"ll-t but ":"l!!.

Finally, the second and third persons plural in the future l"l.., and l"l' do not usually add the paragogic l ; but their second form, i .e . , 1'''l.., and l'''l' , does, l ike 1:�" ) 1't;lIZi', etc.

Paradigms of the Passive Verb of the Third Conjugation (Niph'aJ ')

Infinitive Fonns 3. ni"ll 4. ""1"

The Past f. m.

1 . 2 . n,?ll and "t;I"ll "'?ll or "O;i"ll "'?ll

t;I'''ll t;I'''ll n'''ll t;I'''ll etc.

The Imperative The Future f. m.

'''1'' ""1" ""1l-t sing. "r"l" 1"1" '"1''' ""1'"

or ""1'" "71' '''ll ""ll "71l pI .

"l'''ll 1"ll "r"l'" { 1"1'" 1"1'

This verb form has nothing singular which we have not noted in the preceding one, except that by the dropping of the " of the future neither the accent nor the syllable changes. For with the dropped " it is conjugated 1. ,,�, 2. "P,l1, 3. "I', etc. I doubt whether the second and third persons of the plural always omit the ", or, whether as in the active (kal) , change it to a ' . However, I believe that all the other things which we noted about the preceding ones perta in to this verb form.

2 [Term not used by Spinoza .-M L.M.]

Paradigms of the Intensive Verbs of the Third Conjugation (Pi'e1 ')

The forms of the infinitive are:

Chapter 23 653

Past Imperative Future f. m . f. m.

;"II;I'l>� ;t;>� 3. { ;"I'l>, 2. ;"I'l>� 1 . sing. r1'';>� I;I''l>� 2. ''l>, or ''l>,n ;"I'l>� 2.

etc. 'n ;"I,?� ;"I'l>,' 3 . or ;"I'l>� 1 . pI .

;t;>� 3. \ �, 2. { 1'l>,n } 2 . ;"It,. ;"I1''l>,n and r1''l>� I;I''l>� and 1''l>,n etc. 1''l>. 1'l>.' & 1''l>.� 3 . This verb form also remains lll'l>t:l in the future when the ;"I is dropped,

and the vowels are not changed. For the dropped ;"I makes it 1. 'nl$, 2. Inn, 3. In', etc. Paradigms of the Passive Intensive Verbs

of the Third Conjugation (Pu'al ' ) Infinitives: 1. ;"I7�

The Past f. m.

;"II;I'l>� ;"I7� 3. or ;"I7l n''l>� I;I''l>� 2. I;I''l>�

'n''?� I . etc. 1'l>� 3. pI .

1n I:ln''l>� 2. 1l''l>l I .

3 . [Term not used b y Spmoza. -M.L.M 1 4 [Term not used by Spinoza .-M L M 1

2. ;"I''l>� or n�'l>�.

The Future f. m.

;"I'l>�tt 1 . sing. ''l>ln ;"I'?�I;I 2 . ;"I'?in ;"I'l>�� 3 .

654 Hebrew Grammar

In Chapter 17 we noted that a kametz chatuf can be used in place of a . The verbs of this conjugation provide many examples of this, as in Proverbs chap. 24, vs. 3 1 1'1� 11i';> its face was covered, and Psalms chapter 72 last verse n1?'Eln 1�� the prayers are ended.

The fact that the changes to a cholem, when the middle letter of the root cannot receive a dagesh, is similar to the verbs of the first conjugation; and I have not undertaken to note anyth ing in th is conjugation unless it differs with verbs of the first con jugation .

Paradigms of the Causative Active of the Third Conjugation (Hiph'i l')

The forms of its infinitive are:

UT7l;"l 2. ;"17m 3. ;"I?liJ 4. n1?liJ

Past Imperative f. m. f. m. f.

;"It;I?l;"l ;"I7l;"l 3 . sing. '?m ;"I?m sing. and and '?1l1

n7l;"l ;"171'1 n7l;"l t;!'?lor 2. ;"Il'?m 1?m pI.

etc. ort;!?m or7m 3. n'?m t;!'(lor 2.

etc.

5. n1?l;"l.

Future m.

;"I71!! 1. sing. or?ll'l 2.

etc.

The future and imperative, when the ;"l is dropped, are punctuated with dou­ ble segol, becoming ?l�, ?�� instead of or?l!! , or?ll'l , etc. But if the middle let­ ter of the root is a mute or quiescent letter, then the · remains, and changes into a . l ike p!D' for orptli' he makes to drink, that is, he gives a drink, 1e1' for iTN'� he makes to see, or he shows, etc.

As for the causative passive (hoph'al) or7liJ, or?liJ, or n1?liJ and the reciprocal passive (hithpael), ;"I�l.m, or7l.m, or n1�l.m , they are marked in the same way as the preceding ones in the presen� imperative, and future, and they have noth­ ing singular about them which I have not noted about the simple verbs (kal) of this conjugation .

5. [Term not used by Spinoza .-M.L.M.]

CHAPTER 24

VERBS OF THE FOURTH CONJUGATION n"'? AND .I)"'?

Chapter 25 655

What especially distinguishes these verbs, so to speak, i s that a n and an II never adhere to a long vowel, and that they do not ever have a after a long vowel or before another silent sheva, and rarely after a short vowel. Whence it is, that if at the end of words, after a tsere, there happens to occur a chirek, cholem, or shurek, there will be a furtive patach, of which we spoke in Chapter 3 . Also, the second person of the feminine gender, which usually has a double sheva in the last syllable, has a patach in place of the first sheva .

Therefore the simple active verbs of this conjugation have the infinitive forms: I. Ji1O!!i 2 . JlO!!i or ll1;l!!i 3. l1il.:l1!i or ll�, and, with the paragogic n, n�l.:J!!i and n�l.:ll!i. There is no infinitive with a double , , l ike llr,ul or 'i?� because, as we have said, a n and an II do not adhere to a long vowel.

Also, the past does not have a furtive patach but a contracted one: ll� he heard, t;l1l1;l!\i you heard, etc. In the feminine, n�l.:lI!i she heard, r-I111;l!\i you (f.) heard instead of 1;11'1;l!\i. For, as I have sa id, II and n before a resting sheva do not take another sheva. Concerning this matter see Chapter 3 toward the end.

The past form for 'P� should be 11l.:l1(i and for the form 'i� l1iO!!i , but this may, as I have said, be shortened into 111;l!\i, and so the imperative l1il.:ltli into lll;ll!i, and the future l1il.:ltli1t into 1l/;l!Zi1t.

These rules are obser�ed also in the rest of the verb forms, and there is no need to explain them at length. May I add this, however, that Isaiah chapter 19 , verse 6 has 1n��\!(1 instead of 1n1�;:r or 10l1�(1 they shall be made foul, or made to be reiected. I doubt whether this form of the passive verb is derived properly from these conjugations, or that it is common to all, or that in place of 'i?El;:r one may substitute " P�iJ, as for n'�iJ and lll;ll!i;:r one may write 1j'1R\\I and l1'l.:ltli\!n.

CHAPTER 2 5

VERBS OF THE FIFTH CONJUGATION (' ' 'El)

The verbs, whose first root letter is the quiescent ' usually drop it or change it into a 1 . And so the simple active verbs (kal) in addition to the infinitives

656 Hebrew Grammar

:ltD:, :l!D:, and :l',IZi: or :liD" often have :lrQ, :l1Zi, and :liD; and also when a para­ gogic OT or n is added the ' is always dropped, and it becomes OT�1Zi from OT�1Zi; and n;J.tP instead of n:lIZi'. In the past tense the ' always remains, in the impera­ tive it frequently is dropped, and finally in the future it is either quiescent or dropped. For example, from the form :ltD: and :l1Zi: the imperative becomes :ltD and :l!D. Therefore, they differ also in this respect from verbs of the first con ju­ gation in that their imperatives are not formed from the infinitive :liD' ; which came about perhaps for the reason that they are not to be confused with verbs whose median radical is 1, of which we shall speak in its proper place. These verbs therefore are conjugated in the imperative in this manner:

The Imperative The Future f. m. f. m.

:ltD �K or :l1ZiK I . or ':llZin :lrQn or :llZin 2.

':l!D etc. or \ � OT�tD or with the quiescent

�'K or :l!D'K

�:l1P 1:l!D '�!D(I :l1Zi'l'I :l!D'l'I etc.

The pausal accents athnach and siluk, in the imperative, change their sheva into a , and so OT�!D, ':lIZi, and 1:l1Zi become OT:;Jt/l, ':l\!i, and 1:l\!i.

Next, although in the Bible the imperative :llli' or :l1Zi' is not found I believe that it was nevertheless in use, and from it was formed the form of the future :ltD'K and :It/l'K. The verb K1: , being composed from this and the second con­ jugations, has the imperative Kl' feaT. So from 7:;l' be able, by changing the ' into a 1, the future is formed 7:;l1K, 7:;l1n, 7:;l1', etc. , which I believe may not be permitted in the others, so as not to be confused with the future of the passive reflexive verb, which the verb 7i:>' lacks.

Next, passive verbs (niph'al) change the ' into a 1 , and are in the infinitive :l!D1OT in place of :l!D;OT, and, if I am not mistaken , :l�il in place of :ltD'l, from which the past third person :lrQil, the second person, t;I:lt/iil, etc . , and also from the infin itive :llZilOT the imperative is formed:

f.

':l!D,lOT OTPIP1OT

and the future I . :l1Zi�, 2. :ltD)l1, etc.

m .

:llZilOT 2 . sing. 1:lIZi,lOT 2 . plur.

Chapter 25 657

Next, the intensives, both active and passive, (pi'el and pu'af), agree alto­ gether with verbs of the first conjugation . The ' is reta ined and does not become quiescent unless the passive form should have the character l (which, as I said in Chapter 17 , is usually also prefixed to the passive intensive) ; but in that case the ' also changes into a i , l ike 1'''ll for 1'';' and '71l for ,'?� . Next, the future of the active verb may also be contracted, and in place of :JIZ!" it may be written :JIZ!' and 1Zi:;J, in place of lZi:;J,' . In the causative, however, i t (the yod) is either silent or, as happens mostly, changed to a 1 . Thus in the infinitive they have :J'lZJi;r instead of :J'IZi';:) :JlZii;r or :JIZi';r instead of :J1Zi';:).

The past is formed from the first :J'IDi;r .

f. m.

;r�'IZJ·i;r r-I:Jtil"i;r

etc.

:J'lZii;r 3 . I;I:J�i;r 2 .

The imperative i s formed from the second :JlDi;r and :JID';r.

£ m.

':J'IZi';r and ':J'tDi;r :J'tDi;r, :JlZii;r ;rplZJi;r 1:J'lZii;r

Where the ' is either silent or changed to a 1 . Finally, the future ending of these, as in verbs of the first conjugation, is

either a chirek or a tsere; but the ' , as in the imperative, is either s ilenced or changed into a i ; so that is has the following forms: :JlZJi;r and :J'lZii;r, feminine '�'iDii1, etc.

The Future I . 2. 3 . 4

f. m. £ m. f. m. f. m.

:J1ZJ·il't :J'lZiil't I . :J1Zi'l't I . :J'IZi'l't ':J'lZiir-l :JlZiir-l ':J'!Vir-l :J'lZiir-l 2 . '�'�'r-l :J1Zi'r-I 2. '�'�'r-l :J'IZi'r-I

:Jl!iir-l :JlDi' etc . etc. etc. etc.

And here it must above all be noted, that it is not necessary in these to exclude the characteristic letter of the verb form on account of the characteris­ tic letter of the tense; but one is free to either reta in or omit it in the first and second forms above, and in the third and fourth to put a yod in its place. Namely; in place of :JlZiil't, :JlZiir-l , :JtDi' one is able to write :JIDi;rt\, :JtDi;rr-l, :HVii1\ etc . , and in place of :lW'l't, :lrzrn, :lrD'� to write :lrD�� , :Jrp�I:1. :lrD�" etc . , changing the characteristic 01 into a ' . So also for :J'tDil't and :J'IZi'l't it is per­ mitted to write :J'lZJi;rl't and :J'IZi'l't.

Next, be it noted that the cau;ative verb form ,I{i: to be straight generally reta ins the ' in the infinitive, imperative, and future; and in th is it agrees with

658 Hebrew Grammar

verbs of the first conjugation. So that it has the infinitive 1!Zi'O, the imperative f. '1'rli'O, m. 11V'O, and the future 1 . 1i!t'�, 2. 1tD'0:I, 3 . 1tD'c, etc.

Next, the causative from IC�: to go out also appears to be similar in that it reta ins the yod since at times the scribes in Genesis chap. 8, vs. 17 allowed the imperatives to be read both lC�iOT and �'O. · I doubt that in these two there is anyth ing unique. Thus far concerning the active accusative verb.

The passive (hoph'al) changes the ' into a 1, or omits it. The forms of the infinitives are :l1V1OT and :ltDOT, or n�!li101 and n�IPO}. The past th ird person m. :l�1OT f. OT�1V1OT, 2 . t;I:l�101, etc. ; or 3 . :l1!i0} 2 . t;I:lI!iOT, etc. The imperative m. :l�1OT f. ':l1V101. The future 1 . :l!Zi11C, 2. m. :l!Zi1r-1 f. ':l!Zim, etc.

The reciprocal reflective active verbs (hithpael) of this conjugation either reta in the ' , and agree en tirely with verbs of the first conjugation, or change it to a ' ; so that the infinitives are :l1Zi'nOT and :l!lilnOT, and, except for this, they do not differ in any other way from verbs of the first conjugation.

Finally, the reciprocal passives, which have the characteristic letter l , and usu­ ally compensate the n with a dagesh (which form I have shown the reciprocal passive to have in addition to others in Chapter 2 1 ) , change the ' into a ' ; l ike 11�lll and they were made to be disciplined Ezekiel 23:48. Of the other forms indeed, like :l!li'ro, :l1V'n;;r, etc . , none are extant, as far as I know, but this does not mean they are on that account impossible.

I t must be noted here that there are some verbs whose first root letter is ' or l, l ike 1Vi?: to lay a snare, whose first letter, in place of a " is frequently l , and in place of 1Vi?: i t i s 1Vj?l . Since verbs whose primary root letter is l , are generally defective verbs (as I shall show below) it seems that these verbs imitate other defective verbs. There is another reason for this which must especially be noted here, namely that letters of the same root are not infre­ quently transposed, l ike 1nIJ and n-i1J to dig, :liD:;) and i:1:l:;) a lamb. This trans­ position is observed very often in verbs of this conjugation , l ike "]ll; and "]'-\' to be weary, 1�: and 1'� to give form; whence it is that these verbs resemble the verbs of the sixth conjugation , whose middle qu iescent radical frequently is missing. For by the transposition of the ' from 1�; i t becomes, as we have said, 1'� whose infinitive 1i'� is contracted into 1i�, namely into the form of the infinitive of the sixth conjugation; so 1il: to fear, by transposing the ' and changing it into a 1 , as above, the infinitive becomes 1il and lVi:l: to be ashamed also has the infinitive lDi:;J . For this same reason p�: , l�: , and the oth­ ers whose primary radical is a ' at one time follow this mode and at other times follow the sixth con jugation in accordance with l inguistic analogy (of which below).

'" [The ketib ls il�il and the keri Is ��'il. l

Chapter 26 659

CHAPTER 26

COMPOSITE VERBS FROM THIS FIFTH AND THREE PRECEDING CONJUGATIONS

The composite verbs, concerning wh ich I want to deliberate here briefly, are those whose first root letter is " and the third an It or a n or even an ll. But because their mode of conjugation can easily be recognized from the preceding I have judged it quite superfluous to treat them in detail and to increase the number of conjugations. I th ink, however, that it is worthwhile to state a few things about them.

Of those ending in It, we know two only, namely It\!: to go out and It,: to feaT, which on account of the quiescent It always have a long ultimate syllable, l ike verbs of the second conjugation. In the remaining forms, however, It\!: conforms with verbs of the fifth, except that the infinitive, instead of nit\!, is nit:>. Also, the verb It,: in the simple active (kal) always retains the " and it does not quiesce except in the future. Thus the infinitive and imperative are Itl' and It,,, and with the paragogic n, nl$" , but the future is 1. Itl'lt 2. Itl'n 3. It,,,.

Those which end in n, l ike verbs of the second conjugation, change the n into either a ' or a i, and are ended in the same way. As to the letter yod which remains, it is either quiescent in the simple active (kal) future or is changed into a 1, but never lost. For example, nEl: , ii!l:, niEl: to be beautiful, becomes in the imperative nEl" and in the future: 1 . m. nEl'It, 2. nEl'n , f. 'El'n, etc. When the n is el iminated it is 1. "1'It, 2. "1'n, 3 . "1", etc. But n'1: to throw is in the impera­ tive n,, , but the ' is changed in the future into i and it becomes 1. n"1ilt, 2. n,in, 3. n,i" and el iminating the n, it is ,ilt, ,in, 'i" etc. The rest of the verb forms, namely passive (niph'al) causative (hiPh'il), and reciprocal (hithpael) follow the paradigms of the fifth conjugation.

Finally, those which end in n or II follow the paradigms of the fourth and fifth conjugations. For example, .;tl:, .p,: to know is contracted into ll"1;, and el iminating the ' it becomes ll"1, ll"t, ll1 . Hence the imperative ll1 know, and the future ll"1lt, ll"1n , and with the paragogic n, n-l'llt. Next the simple pas­ sive (niph'al) infinitive is ll"1il and ll11n. The relative active (hiph'il) .tl',in and ll1in, and the passive (hoph'al) ll11i1 . Finally, the reciprocal active (hithpael) is ll11ni1 and the passive (hothpael) ll11n�, ll11nl, etc. These are the things I undertook to relate about th is matter.