rLATCKIC ELEMENTS IN SPINOLA'S THEORY OF METHOD

by Frank A. Hayes

Submitted to the faculty of the Graduate School in partial fulfillment, of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, in the Department of Philosophy, Indiana University.

ill

PREFACE

Philosophical Method Is inevitably historical in its approach. We cannot understand the contemporary idea unless ve can discern the long tradition of past thought which remains alive within it. -- J. V. Langmead Casserly This essay is conceived as an attempt to discern part of the long tradition of past thought which remains alive in the philosophy of Spinoza. The originality of Spinoza's thought is beyond

question, but it is not absolute; it draws upon ideas that vere being shaped by the lively, and sometimes reckless, enthusiasm of the seventeenth century scientific community; it draws upon ideas that had been shaped centuries before by men who were most interested in theology; but it also expresses perceptions of its own, and sees the current, the old, and the unique from a vantage point which gives place, depth and perspective to the melange. All

of this Spinoza chose to express under an aspect of eternity, as if his thoughts existed as timeless essences, with no significant distinction of before and after. He seldom quotes his predecessors

or his contemporaries by name, contenting himself usually by referring to an Indefinite 'they' or 'some.' In the Ethics

especially, he falls to provide us with the background of reflection about which his philosophy is oriented, but plunging in medlas res. he seems like a man reading the universe in the mind of God. Our

difficulty at first lies not so much in assessing the value of Spinoza's contributions to philosophy, as in understanding what he is talking about. To overcame the difficulty, ve must shatter the

eternal framework, segregate the elements, reconstruct the background

Iv

of reflection, recognize old and new, perceive the unique, and then restore all at last to its original setting. To do this for the whole

of Spinoza's philosophy is work for a mature and discerning mind, thoroughly versed in the history of philosophy and deeply knovlegeable in the philosophical intricacies of Spinozas thought. To do this for

one part of Spinoza's philosophy, his methodology, is the burden of this essay. Thus I have tried to identify those Platonic elements in Spinoza's

theory of method which casual reading of Spinoza's philosophy suggest are present and which close reading of his essay on method, the Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione, suggests are fundamental.

In Part I of the essay views of some representative Platanists on method are examined to discover the obvlops characteristics of Platonic methodology; in Part II an attempt is made to define Spinoza's methodology more sharply than has heretofore been done; in Part III the features of this methodology are compared and contrasted with characteristic features of Platonic methodology and the elements which the two methodologies have in common are summed up. Part I on Platonic methodologies is instrumental, offered as a study sufficient only for the purposes of the essay. Part II begins some say

with a resume of current opinion about Spinoza's methodology:

that Spinoza has no distinct methodology; acme that his method is an extreme form of Descartes' mathematician; some that it consists in theological syllogizing; but each of these views opposes or contradicts seme of Spinoza's statements on method. An examination of current

interpretations shows a tendency to Identify Spinoza's theory of method with his practice of method in the Ethics. But since practice serves

best, generally, to illustrate theory, while theory serves to explain

practice, it seemed prudent to attempt to discover Spinoza's theory of method from his own statements, if that could be done. Since

Spinozas fullest discussions of method occur in the Tractatus de Intellect us Emendations, this treatise became the focus of the investigation. Although the Tractatus is incomplete, in the portion which ve possess Spinoza digresses on certain problems to be treated later; these digressions indicate the course he had charted for, and the problems he thought crucial in, his methodology. From these anticipations, a

hypothesis of Spinoza's methodology is worked out; it is then tested against the treatise on method, the f irst book of the Ethics, and the correspondence between Boyle and Spinoza. A conclusion is drawn that

Spinozas complete methodology exhibits three Interrelated but recognizable phases, to which are given the names analysis, synthesis, and empirical-synthesis. The function of analysis is to direct the mind reflecting upon the contents and powers of thought to an intuitive perception of the first thing of all (Deus give natura); the function of synthesis is to derive a knowledge of eternal lavs from the idea of the first thing of all; the function of emplricalsynthesis is to determine by scientific experiment particular mutable things with such precision that the investigator can discern under vhich of the eternal lavs they have been produced. The hypothesis of Spinoza's methodology is then compered and contrasted vith characteristic Platonic methodology. The essay concludes

that the analytic phase of Spinoza's methodology is charadser 1stically Platonic; that his synthesis is both Platonic and Aristotelian; and that his empirical-synthesis, vhile retaining a seventeenth century

enthusiasm for experiment, develops an idea of a metaphysically

grounded natural science whose optimism goes veil beyond the highest hopes of Flatanists and Aristotelians.

That the questions propounded and discussed in this essay are of some interest to contemporary interpreters and critics of Spinoza's philosophy is confirmed by Stuart Hampshire's recent remarks: ...one may read Spinoza's Ethics many times, us did his contemporaries, and still come back to same unsolved problems of interpretation. What is the relation of the two Infinite Attributes of Thought and Extension to each other? Why is God or Nature conceived by us under Just these two Attributes? In what sense is everything in Nature to some degree animated? Is the existence and nature of various finite modes, which are particular things, somehow deducible from the universal features of Nature, or is deduction confined to the eternal modes of Nature? What is the place allowed to experiment in natural knowledge? These are bu a few of the many questions which a Splnozlst must answer. To Hampshire's last two questions, at least , it is hoped that this essay offers some answers.

*Stuart Hampshire, ed. , The Age of Season: The 17th Century Philosophers (New Tork: Mentor Books, 1956), p. 102.

ta b le

of

coiriK i.TL

Views of Lone EepresentatIve Platcrises on Method Plato............................................ . lexandriun Platonicts -- Philo end Clenient. . . . Augustinion Platonists -- Augustine and .nseira . . Renaissance Platonism. . . . .....................
D e s c a r t e s .................................................

P. C. P.

67 100 13^

hpinoza's Theory of Method The plan of Spinoza's complete methodology . . . . Reasons for re-examining Spinoza's idea of metho d............. .................... 2. Spinoza's theory of method and the Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione ................. 3 . Spinoza's plan for a complete methodology. . . 2. Spinoza's method is reflective knowledge . . 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. . .. 1.
1j

173

184
192 200

The kinds of knowledge ..................... The concept of method as reflective knowledge. Recognition of a true idea ................. Increase of true ideas . . . . ............. Organization of true ideas ................. . ..

200 202 206 218 224

238

2. Evidence of Spinoza's projected methodology. 1.

Analysis as described in the Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione..................... 2. Synthesis as illustrated in the Ethics . . . . 3 . Empirical-synth.esis as illustrated in the correspondence with Boyle...................

238 253
278

The Heritage of Platonism Introduction: Spinoza's Acquaintance with Plato and Platonism.................................. 2. Platonic elements in Spinoza's theory of method. .

296

303 326 327

of abbreviations to Spinoza texts and translations. . of works, editions, and translations mentioned. . . .

i.

Views of Some Representative PlMtonists on Method.

A,

Plato.

Of all the goods, for gods and men alike, truth stands first. Thereof let every man partake from his earliest days, if he purposes to become blessed and happy, that so he may live his life as a true man so long as possible. He is a trusty man; but untrustworthy is the man who loves the voluntary lie; and senseless is the man who loves the involuntary lie; and neither of these two is to be envied. -- Laws, V, 730 c (Loeb tr.) To change the condition of the man who loves the voluntary lie is a matter for moral persuasion and ethics; but to change the senseless man vho loves the involuntary lie is matter for rational persuasion Joined with a theory of method and knowledge. Many of

the early "Socratic" dialogues, among them those which "conclude without a conclusion," have as their principal aim the arousing of perplexity in the mind of a senseless Alcibiades or a thoughtless Charmides as the necessary condition of making them aware of the ignorance, the involuntary lie, which they embrace in their souls. In dialogues like these Socrates is not made to discuss problems of method and knowledge principally and explicitly, but in some of the later 'Socratic" dialogues and in many of the "Platonic" dialogues, problems in the theory of knowledge and the method of arriving at knowledge are discussed in detail. It is only, however,

in Epistle VII of the thirteen Platonic Epistles that we find a concise smeary of the elements of a general theory of knowledge and

method.

The epistemological summary of Kplctle VII (whose author

we take to be Plato himself) nas been used in this essay uguinst the general background of the Dialogues in the hope that the summary would lend form' and the Dialogues content to this discussion of Plato s theories. The date of the letter, inferred from internal

evidence, assures us that we are offered Plato s mature views, the letter being written some six years before his death.1 Epistle VII is largely given to an explanation and defense of Plato's dealing with Dionysius and Dion of Syracuse, but it is interrupted at 3^2 a to 3 ^ b by a digression designed to show that no competent philosopher will entrust his understanding of the profoundest matters to writing. The digression includes a summary

of the means and nature of knowledge, which we should like to use as representative of Plato's thought, but since the purpose of the digression is to show that a philosopher does not entrust his profoundest thoughts to writing, and since the digression appears in a written and public statement, the material, apparently, does not represent Plato's profoundest meaning. Nevertheless, Plato

describes his discussion as following a "certain true argument,"

In the prefatory note to Zpistle VII in the Loeb edition, E. G. Bury writes, "This is the longest and most important of the Platonic Epistles, and has the best claims to authenticity. From internal evidence we may infer that it was written after the murder of Dion (in 353 B.D.) and before the overthrow of the usurper Callippus in the following year." Plato with an English Translation, VII, tr . & ed. R. G. Bury, Loeb Classical Library, 463 . Cf . also Raymond Simeterre, Introduction a 1'etude de Platon (Paris, 19^8) pp. 13-I1 * and bibliographical references in footnotes to those pages. "S'appuyuat sur une observation plus exacte du style de Platon et sur une enqute gendrale mieux conduite, la plupart des historiens admettent aujourd'hui, et pour le moins, les 7 et 8& lettres ." P . ll*.

which : i e has frequently -at ited in the pact and i : ; willinr to state agiin. He doer; discuss , systematically and suggestively, fundamental

aspects of knowledge and method which, since he describe; tne argument as true, we c.n take as fund anental in his own tneory in spite of the warning pointed by the context itGelf. no might

notice .Iso that when Plato says he never entrusts the highest :.nd first principles of his philosophy to public writing, he adds tne qualification "c om pl et e l y T h u s , he leads us to suppose that while his public writings are incomplete and imperfect, they are true as far as they go and point in the right direction. Plato assumes an audience acquainted with his career, his work as a philosopher, and his public writings. He even relates

that he is himself the leading authority on philosophical matters in his time (3^5 c). At 326 ab he refers specifically to the

Republic. This assumption that his readers are generally acquainted with his philosophy enables Pluto to be concise. He can keep to

the main features he wishes to emphasize, not bothering to explain what would be obvious to his audience. We in turn, would do well

to study what he says against the background of the Dialogues. He begins his discussion with a statement more Aristotelian than Platonic in its flavor and brevity: Every existing object has three things which are the necessary means by which knowledge of that object is acquired; and the knowledge itself is a fourth thing; and as a fifth one must postulate the object

itself which L r ; cogniz .ble and. true. First of these comes the nune; secondly the definition; thirdly the image; fourthly the knowledge. (Fp. VII , nb . Loeb tr. ) The pass .ge^ distinguishes three things: knowledge itself; and
tne

the means of knowledge;

Lot us cor..

object of knowledge.

Lder

first the meanc of knowledge. Iirst says Flato comes tne name; then the definition; and We know

finally the image.

Is this order in any sense necessary?

from our experience that thought may often begin from the apprehension of an im-ge; and we may also recollect that at Laws X, 895 d. the Athenian -- that is, Pl-to -- says that "sometimes a person may give the name and ask the definition; or he may give the definition and ask the name." If, as it seems, Plato is

prescribing an order in the use of the means of knowledge, the order seems to be arbitrary, in conflict with our own experience of thinking and with his own opinion in the Laws. Nevertheless, it can be shown, I believe , that insistence upon this order is characteristic of Plato's practice in many of the dialogues, and makes a real contribution to the theory of knowledge. A moment's reflection will show that the Socrates of the Dialogues follows the order of name, definition, and concrete images wherever possible. The Socratic rubric for initiating inquiry

begins by naming the object of the inquiry and determining whether the participants to the inquiry acknowledge its existence. The

inquiry then becomes a search for a definition of the object named.

The characteristic hocr.tic formulary very often runs like this: Weil, now, there is such u tiling as _ _ _ _____ ? of course. What is it then to which the imposer of names gave this name? Tnus tne inquiry elicits a tentative definition, which in turn suggests concrete instances which confirm or convict the definition, cocparicons are made, new definitions offered, and the inquiry continued until the participants are satisfied or are overcome with confusion. When Plato insists in Spistle VII that the means

of knowledge be used In a definite sequence, he formalizes the practice of the Socratic dialogues. With Plato one excellence of this sequence lies in putting the quest for definitions before the search for images. It is well

known that with Plato feeling and sensation, although actual, are not knowledge.^ But imagination, by which the mind reproduces or

anticipates sensations of objects not actually present, is more akin to sensation than to knowledge. Yet Plato is convinced

that imagination can be used for knowledge, if imagination is suspended until thought has shaped a definition of the object sought. The definition once formed, imagination can be called upon to evoke images bearing some likeness to the qualities described in the Q A. E. Taylor has stated this feature of Plato's philosophy very neatly: "The leading ideas of Plato's theory of the nature and objects of scientific knowledge can be stated very simply. Thinking is not the same thing as the having of sensations; It is not literally true that 'seeing is believing.' All thinking is Judgment and needs to be expressed in proposition, and no proposition is the mere record of the occurrence of a sensation. With Plato, as with Kant, the distinction between thought and sensation is fundamental.... Again, not all thinking is knowledge or science. We have to distinguish what we really know from what we merely think or believe." Platonism ^ad Its Influence, (New York, 1932) p. 29.

definition.

In this way the tendency of the inugination to develop

by random associ.tions is overcome, and, guided by definition, imagination producer images related to it. Moreover, when i r a .ge

follows definition,- the soul is not entranced by feelings ,nd emotions which accompany images . s they do sensations, since it is intent to discover the agreement or disagreement between images and definition. It is here th,.t the function of the image

as a means of knowledge becomes clear, for if the soul decides that an image deserves the name of an object, while the definition of the object is framed so as to exclude the image, then the soul re-examines the definition and may change it to include the linage in question. But when image precedes definition, it becomes

purposeless and of little consequence for knowledge, as well as being wasteful of time, for it will often entrance and fascinate the soul, as though the soul had already found the good it was seeking, whereas the soul should have been seeking knowledge of an object, not the pleasure of an image. Although it is easy to see why Plato thought that definition should precede image, it is more difficult to understand why he thinks name should ccme first. Plato does not define "name" in

Epistle VII; but at 3h2 b he does say, in an illustration, "There is an object called a circle, which has for its name the word we have just mentioned;..." with "3poken word." That is, Plato here identified "name"

But if words are signs of ideas, as Aristotle

si.yb , then ideas a..y be prior to names , or names can at best only be contemporaneous with ideas, idea and name entering a mind at the s.ime time. On this view we should be inclined to correct Plato

and say either that idea or that idea and name conjointly constitute the first means of knowledge. But our objection overlooks a major

distinction in Plato's theory of knowledge and method, his distinction between means and object of knowledge, r or Plato an idea is never

properly speaking the means of knowledge, not even when it functions as the foundation of a scientific principle; idea is the ultimate product of dialectic. N^me, definition and image

are means because they do, in fact, help us to arrive at an end, knowledge of the object itself. Neither should we object that

it is difficult to see how names, which as Plato often says cannot express the true objects of knowledge, are yet the first means of knowing, for in this objection we are still trying to find some identity between name and object, between means and end. Plato has

only to remind us that the first function of the means of knowing is to place us in a position to know, not to express knowledge we have acquired. But there we are broaching Plato's doctrine of

intuition, to which we shall have to return later. Plato himself offers a more direct objection to the primacy of names among the instruments of knowledge: sometimes a person

may give the name and ask the definition; or he may give the definition and ask the name." He seems to say that it is irrelevant

whether we begin with name or definition; but let us recollect r . practice in the dialogues: wherever possible, Socrates begins

with a name, and the name, in a sense, controls both definition and image as we have indicated. with a name; at Cr-tylue Plato does not say why Socrates beg.ns b Socrates says that "knowledge of names

is no small matter," but the Cratylus does not discuss the place of names in inquiry. It considers whether the imposition of

names is conventional or is governed by some natural criterion. Now, although Plato does not explain why names should precede both definition and image, and even seems to say in the Laws that it is irrelevant whether we begin with name or definition, can we find reasons from Plato's practice in the dialogues to sj, j with sufficient if not perfect assurance that Plato did maintain the primacy of names among the instruments of knowledge? In the Dialogues Socrates begins an inquiry with a name, wherever possible, but whenever it is not possible he begins with a list of instances or with a definition which may suggest a name. that the primacy of names is normative, not absolute. Thh implies

Further, ve

have seen that it is possible to correct a definition when an iafcge which deserves the name of the inquiry does not fit the definition. Thus name has a function which definition lacks, since name taken with image corrects definition. It sometimes happens, of course,

that definition leads to a change of names, but this simply strengthens the fact of difference between name and definition.

and a yet we nave no grounds Tor asserting the primacy of names. We migr.t be tempted to
say

that definition implies

-nd presupposes

a name, and this would be true in many philosophies; it is not true, however, with Plato, for he says in both bpistle VII and Lows X that name and definition are of an object, r.ct that definition is
of

tne name, and the name of the object.

If

nmie is prior to

definition, the priority must be baaed on something essential to name and to definition, not on a relation between them. Ihe least possible knowledge we can have of an object and still be s^id to know something of that object is knowledge of its name. That is, name is the most indeterminate form in which knowledge exists . In the practice of Socrates it is enough to name an object to bring an inquiry into existence; to define an object is to place the inquiry on a more determinate basis; to induce concrete images is to determine the inquiry still further. The movement

of the Socratic technique in inquiry is from indeterminate existence, supplied by a name, toward increasingly determinate essence, arrived at through interaction of name, definition, and image. Ideally, inquiry would be complete when it arrives at a

knowledge of the whole universe, and this Le why Plato says at 3^4 c in Epistle VII "in learning these objects j _of knowledge7 it is necessary to learn at the same time both what is false and what is true of the whole of Existence...." definition in its indeterminacy. Name, then, is prior to

Although we can begin an inquiry

10

by et 5 ::r^ a definition and asking its name, if the inquiry is to

> .

satisfy tne norm of u complete inquiry, the object must be explicitly named and not left as an indefinite "x". By stating the name explicitly ve fill in, complete, perfect the stages of inquiry, so far as the means of knowledge carry it, and exhibit, the inquiry from its indeterminate beginnings to whatever level of determinacy it aas reached. must satisfy Plato is not a formalist, insisting that an inquiry

anarbitrary form before he will call it valid; he

insists that there be a certain order because he believes the inquiry itself is fuulty without it: of knowledge the order of the instruments

isa quality or property of a true inquiry. means of knowledge must not be understood In

But theorder of the

in a way that excludes the possibility of their interaction.

general ve should remember that the method of Socrates is one whereby we cooe to know better something we already know in some way. The

order, taken normatively, is the best way of stating precisely what we know of an object at the beginning of inquiry. Once the inquiry

is fairly begun attention is turned to the interaction of name, definition, and image; but even then the order is implicit, because images are controlled by definition and definition and images by name. It is necessary to add a word about the meaning Plato attaches to 'images." At 3 ^ b in Epistle VII he substitutes for "images" cfw q, ^ r r t

the pnra.se "visions and sense-perceptions"

; , commonly used as by Herodotus to indicate ghosts, apparitions, visions, is a suggestive term indicating the imaginative or mental

11

perception of somethin# which ordinarily cannot be perceived by the censej.

tnat

Thus PL.to leads

ue

to

suppose t h it we can form images

for

have intangible objects:

example, of an object like the

soul.

In L .ws, X, 895 Plato is content to discuss the essence of

soul by means of name and definition only, without recourse to image, but at Phaedrus 2i+6ohe says: Of the nature of the soul, though her true form be ever a theme of large and more than mortal discourse, let me speak briefly, and in a figure, .-nd let the figure by composite - - a pair of winged horses and a charioteer. (Jowett tr. ) The "figure" used in the Phaedrus is obviously a vision rather than the image of a sense-perception, and it is used as on instrument of knowledge to help Phaedrus see something of the nature of the soul as Socrates sees it. Many objects, of course, have natural

images, but of objects which lack them there can be visions. Moreover, there is no relation between degree of abstractness and possession or lack of concrete image: the highest idea of all,

the idea of good, has a natural image in the sun (Pep. ^OQ a - 509 b). Several important consequences can be drawn from Plato's doctrine of the instruments of philosophical knowledge. Plato has a critical reverence for language: First,

reverence, because

he regards language as the storehouse, in Vico's sense, of the knowledge acquired through the labors of preceding generations; critical, because he recognizes that names are no more than instruments of knowledge, and that the treasures implicit in a

12

well developed language like Greek can be possessed only by strenuous ;nd careful exertion, .-.gain, Pinto ic no enemy to tne use of

figurative language in philosophy, but regards visions and images as helps to knowledge. He is careful to describe the conditions

under which image cun be useful, insisting that it must be controlled by name and definition.^ We shall see that Plato is quite aware of

the weakness inherent in language and image, and has no use for colorful but inexact language in philosophy. His awareness of the

inherent weakness of language even leads him to assert the insufficimcy of definition as an instrument of knowledge. To

conclude, he recognizes both the strength and weakness of our instruments of knowledge; he thinks it is useless to exclude any instrument of knowledge by emphasizing a weakness which, after all, it shares with all the instruments; he frankly acknowledges the deficiencies of all our instruments of knowledge, but then he addresses himself resolutely to the task of airlving at perfect knowledge through imperfect instruments.

In discussing the three things by means of which knowledge must be regained, Plato does not in the least suggest that man makes his own knowledge. With Plato the function of the means of knowledge is to make our minds fit to see what before our ignorance prevented us from seeing. There is a difference in kind

^Although the eschatological myths are not controlled by definition, they are carefully circumscribed by rational warnings.

13

between tne means and the ends of knowledge. But what are the 'existing objects," e.cn of which has the three things by means of which it comes to be known? The term "existing object" can at

first sight be ambiguous, for we ordinarily take objects in the sensible world as existing objects, but Plato regards sensible objects as a kind of image, an eidolon. He illustrates the difference between an "image" of an object and the object itad-f, taking for his illustration the object "circle": And in the third place there is that object which is in course of being portrayed and obliterated, or of being shaped with a lathe, and falling into decay; but none of these affections is suffered by the circle itself, whereto all these others are related inasmuch as it is distinct therefrom. (Ep. VII, 3U2 c, Loeb tr.) The object being portrayed or shaped for example, the circle

drawn in the sand by a geometer or a discus made by a craftsman -is not the circle itself, for the image in the sand or the athlete's discus are subject to affections of generation and decay which the circle does not suffer. The existing object, the circle,

is none of the round, spherical, or circular things undergoing changes even while we experience them; it is unique and distinct from all circular objects; immutable and essential, it is an eternal essence. But since this eternal essence, which is the

true object of our knowledge, is an "existing object," it is clear that Plato regards the objects of knowledge as existing essences. Sensible objects are moving images of existing objects.

1U

Plato usually refas to sensible image:, us eidola; literary images .re commonly called eikons. In the Symposium we are given an explicit description of the nature of the objects of knowledge. At 211 c Diotima tells

Socrates that whoever has seen beauty itself will have reen: ...beauty absolute, separate, simple, and everlasting, which without diminution and without increase, or any change, is imparted to the ever-growing and perishing beauties of all. (Loeb t r .) Although in Epistle VII Plato is content to indicate briefly the nature of the existing objects of knowledge, he adds a list which names various kinds of these objects and to which everything applies that he has asserted of "circle. The same is true alike of the straight and of the spherical form, and of colour, and of the good and the fair and the just, and of all bodies whether manufactured or naturally produced (such as fire and water and all such substances /thing7 , and of all living creatures, and of all moral actions or passions in souls. For unless a man somehow or other grasps the four of these, he will never perfectly acquire knowledge of the fifth. (Ep. VII, 3l2 de, Loeb tr.) Here we see that there is a fifth, an eternally existing essence, even of the products of human manufacture. But before considering

where, according to Plato, these objects exist, how they are seen, and in what manner they are imparted to sensible forms, we had best turn to Plato's account of the imperfections and deficiencies in our means of knowing.

A means of knowing will be defective if, after proper use, it

15

leaves us still in ignorance or perplexity.

According to Plato, cur

means of knowing are inherently defective, and each of them necessarily involves us in perplexities from which, by themselves, they can provide no escape. > images h e ' s ;ys:

Every one of the circles which are drawn in geometric exercises or are turned by the. lathe is full of what is opposite to the fifth, since it is in contact with the straight everywhere; whereas the circle itself, as we affirm, contains within itself no share greater or less of the opposite nature. (E^. VII, 3^3 a, Loeb t r . ) Clearly, that which is full of its opposite is not absolute, separate, simple, everlasting, without diminution, and without increase. How the circular image is full of its opposite is

explained by R. G. Bury's note to the text: ...i.e., any number of straight tangents to a circle may be drawn; or, a circle, like a straight line, is composed of points, therefore the circular is full of the elements of the straight.^ Thus the deficiency of the image lies in its impurity, in the fact that it mingles with itself portions of things that are not itself so that it is not, in fact, entirely itself, whereas the

object of knowledge is always fully itself without admixture of anything else. The muddy colors in the early work of a painter

like Matisse might be called impure images of the true colors he achieved toward the end of his long career; yet Plato would likely say that Matisse's truest colors are to color itself as the early colors are to these latest ones . Names are deficient because they are never fixed:

* *Plato with an English Translation, VII, ed. & tr. R. G. Bury (Loeb Classical Library), p. 53^ 5 footnote.

16

And none of the objects, we affirm, has any fixed name, nor is there anything to prevent forms which are now called "round" from being called "straight," and the "straight" "round;" and men will find the naaes no less firrafr fixed when they have shifted tnea and apply them in an opposite sense. (Kg. VII, 3^2 b , Loeb tr.) Tne deficiency of nunes lies in their mutability, in the fact that there is nc natural or essential connection between the name and the object of which it is the name. Here we see Plato professing

the doctrine that names are related to objects solely through human convention, in contrast to the doctrine that Socrates is made to defend in the Cratylus that there is a natural (onomatopoetic) connection between names and objects which governs us in the imposition of names. Despite the Cratylus, the conventionality The

of names seems to have been Plato's characteristic doctrine.

Cratylus is in many parts heavily ironic; much of it is an exuberant caricature of Sophistic etymologizing; and Socrates is represented as having no knowledge of the subject and as wanting to treat the matter as an open question. Moreover, the question is framed

in non-Platonic terms, asking whether there is-a real connection between naaaes and sensible objects. Only at the end of the

dialogue does Socrates introduce the notion of an eternal nature of things, for the knowledge of which names might be instrumental whether they are related to the eternal by convention or by nature. And he concludes: Whether there is this eternal nature in things, or whe-ther the truth is what Heracleitus and his followers and many others say, is a . question hard

17

to determine; and no man of sense will like to put himself or the education of his mind in the power of names; neither will he so far trust names or the givers of names as to be confident in nny knowledge which condemns himself and other existences tc an unhealthy state of unreality; he will not believe that all things leak like a pot., or imagine that the world is a man who has a running at the nose. This may be true, Cratylus, but is also very likely to be untrue; and therefore I would not have you be too easily persuaded of it. fieflect well and like a man, and do not easily accept such a doctrine.... ( Cratylus, hhO cd, Jowett tr.) For these reasons it seems clear that even in the Cratylus Socrates does not accept the doctrine that names have a natural connection with their objects and that in that dialogue he was following In the

the "natural" hypothesis to its ultimate consequences.

Dialogues generally, Socrates does not insist upon a natural connection between names and their objects, and indeed is indifferent to what name is given an object j , so long as the object ' of the inquiry is somehow indicated. Although, as we remarked before, Plato reverences names as the storehouse of potential knowledge, still he insists that the lack of intrinsic connection between name and object makes names a defective instrument: the same object bears many names;

the same name may be applied to different objects; the application of a name may be reversed to signify the opposite of the object it had first named. Names never remain fixed. As a direct

consequence of the mutability of names, Plato adds, definitions are inherently defective: Moreover, the same account holds good of the Definition

18

also, that, inasmuch c it is compounded of names and verbs, it is in no case fixed with sufficient firmnes.;. . (i p . VII, 3^3 b, Loeb tr.)5 The inherent weakness of each of our means of knowing suggests that to the extent that our knowledge depends on these means it too will be defective. In general our knowledge is defective

because the means at our disposal never reach to the essence of objects, but always to some quality. And so with each of the Four ^name, definition, image, and knowledge acquired through them7 , their inaccuracy is an endless topic; but, as we mentioned a moment ago, the main point is this, that while there are two separate things / '<'77> the real essence f ,c c, tc ' / _/ and the quality /"unci, ij-, and the soul seeks to know not the quality but the essence, each of the Four proffers to the soul either in word or in concrete form that which is not sought; and oy thus causing each object which is described or exhibited to be always easy of refutation by the senses, it fills practically all men with all manner of perplexity and all uncertainty. ( E j g . VII, 3^3 b e , Loeb t r . ) As a consequence, no man can hope to put into spoken or written words, which are entirely concerned to represent the qualities of things, any argument that cannot be refuted in some way. Even

when a man has knowledge of the Fifth, if he is compelled to ^An interesting corollary of Plato's conviction that definition is inherently defective as a m^an.q of knowing is that none of the dialogues was designed principally as a quest for definition. Thus the early dialogues which seem to search for the proper definitions of various ethical concepts presumably have some other end as their principal motive. Indeed, many of these dialogues seek to arouse perplexities in otherwise satisfied minds as the first step to knowledge.

19

ecplain it: ...anyone who is able and willing to upset the argument gains the day, and makes the person who is expamiinp his view by speech or writing or answers appear to most of his hearers to be wnoily ignorant of the subjects about which he is attempting to write or speak; for they are ignorant sometimes of the fuct that it is not the soul of the writer or speaker that is being convicted but the nature of each of the four, which is essentially defective. (Ep. VII. 3I +3 d, Loeb tr.) Much of Prato's .criticism of the means of knowing, we might observe, is directed against written or spoken words, but we must not suppose from this that the means of knowledge are defective only in communicating knowledge to others. We need only recollect

that with Plato our own thought is "the discourse which the soul herself carries on with herself concerning the things she considers, (Theaetetus, 190 a)and this discourse appears to be "Justtalking." Thus even our meditations are subject to all the defects involved in name, definition, and image.

Despite Plato's low opinion of the quality of our means of knowing, he does not despair of knowledge, and at Phaedo 89 d he warns us against "the danger of becoming misologists or haters of argument as people become misanthropists or haters of man; for no worse evil can happen to a man than to hate argument." (Loeb tr.) Yet we may well ask how a man can arrive at true knowledge by means of faulty instruments. But it is the methodical study of all these stages, passing in turn from one to another, up and down,

20

which with difficulty implants knowledge, when the man himself, like his object, is of a fine nature........ neither receptivity nor memory will ever produce knowledge in him who has no affinity with the object, since it does not generate to start with in alien states of mind. (Zp. VII, 3I3 e ~ 3 ^ * , Loeb tr.) Here Pi;.to indicates both the necess iry conditions of philosophical knowledge and the process of knowledge. A receptive .nd retentive

mind in a soul which l i a s an affinity with the highest objects is the character which Plato requires of the young philosopher everywhere in the dialogues; he has given his clearest expression of the requirement at Republic, VI, 1+81*~U87* For instance, at J +87 a, Plato

sums up the qualities of a mind destined to take its full purt in the apprehension of reality as being "by nature quick to learn and to remember, magnanimous and gracious, the friend and kinsman of truth, justice, courage, temperance." (Comford tr.). The passage

of the Republic is echoed in the Theaetetus when Theodorus says of the remarkable Athenian youth, "...I never knew any one who was his equal in natural gifts: for he has a quickness of apprehension

which is almost unrivalled, and he is exceedingly gentle, and also the most courageous of men...." ( Theaetetus, lhl a, Jewett tr.) When the means of knowing are at hand to a mind that possesses all the necessary natural gifts, then the prolonged and difficult process of knowledge can begin. ...it is by means of the examination of each of these objects, comparing one with another -- names and definitions, visions and sense-percept ions, -- proving them by kindly proofs and employing questionings and answerings that

21

are void of envy -- it is by such means, and h.rdly so, that there bursts out the light of intelligence and reason regarding each object in the mind of him who uses every effort of mhich mankind is capable. (kp- Vi I 3 M b , Loeb tr. ) True knowledge is intuition of the object itself, and all the long i-ibor of inquiry -- question and answer, dialectic, comparison-of names, definitions, and images is but a preparation for intuition. Yet

To know is to see with the mind the existing, eternal essences. it is not enough to see one or a few of the eternal objects:

"For

in learning these objects it is necessary to learn at the same time both what is false and what is true of the whole of Existence...." (Ep. VII, 3 ^ b, Loeb tr.). The philosopher must know the whole of

existence if his knowledge is to be complete; but he must also learn both the true and the false, for "it is impossible to learn the seiious without the comic, or any one of a pair of contraries without the other, if one is to be a wise man." ( Laws, VII, 8l6 d e , Loeb tr.)

The doctrine of intuition stated here in Epistle VII echoes Diotima's sentence in the Symposium: He who has been instructed thus far in the things of love, and who has learned to see the beautiful in due order and succession, when he comes toward the end will suddenly perceive a nature of wondrous beauty (and this, Socrates, is the final cause /~-i < 4* of all our former toils).... (210 e, Jowett tr.) In both passages Plato emphasizes the toil involved in the quest for knowledge, the need for due order in the search, the suddenness of intellection, and the fact that the whole search was conducted

22

for the s :ke of intuiting an eternal object.

The object of the name,

of the definition, of the image, is seen at last in itself and in i t : : very being; the qualities of the object, having served to lead the soul toward the object, are forgotte'n. The eye of the mind is

held in communion with the eternal object and nourished with trutn, and in that communion the philosopher sees what that object essentially is; he forms the idea of the object. ...beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing the true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if mortal man may. (Symposium, 212 a, Jowett tr.) It is to be carefully noticed that with Plato intuition is of objects, not of judgments, and that intuition produces ideas, not basic principles. According to Plato once the philosopher has

intuited an object and formed an idea of what it essentially is, sp the idea of Good, then he can apply that idea to everything which to an in any way comes under it: i.e., the application of an idea

object is a consequence of intuition, and idea precedes principle.

Plato's insistence that knowledge is true only when the mind or soul intuits an eternally existing object reveals his conviction that the twin marks of philosophical knowing are objectivity and stability. We might be tempted to add as a third mark of true

knowledge, purity of conception, but the purity or unmixed condition of an eternal essence seems to follow from its eternal stability

23

for

:t is always itself, and completely itself, it will remain The stability of the object tells us immediately that

unmLxei.

it is tot to be found in the domain of flux, ut least not as a part of t.aat flux, so that, when we ask where these objects exist we .re answered negutively, at first, that they do not exist anywhere perceptible to sense, nor do they exist in our minds, for mind too is subject to change, study and attention being motions that are never complete at any instant and have always a beginning, middle, and sometimes on end. Much of the time r'lato is unconcerned with

the locus of the highest things of nature, telling us rather that they exist for the mind. To attribute place to eternal objects Place, of course, has existence

involves inevitable difficulties.^ in the world of change.

Although there is no account in abstract

language of the place of eternal objects, in the myth of the Phaedrus Plate has located them quite explicitly: the eternal objects exist The

beyond the plain of truth at the extremities of the universe;

myth is related in order to describe the nature of the human soul in a figure briefly, for to tell what the soul really is would be a matter for utterly superhuman and long discourse. The figure of the

myth is composite, the soul being figured by a pair of winged horses and a charioteer, the charioteer representing the divine element in the human soul, the logistikon. Part of the myth deals withthe nature and place of the eternal objects, and their relation to the logistikon. and it sums up our previous discussion so well that it has seemed

^For instance, is the idea of place represented among the other eternal ideas? If so, are the other eternal ideas located within it? Plate does not take up the problem.

2lt

fitting to quote it at length. For those that are called immortal, when they reach the top. pass outside nd take their place on the outer surface of the heaven, and when they h .ve taken their stand, the revolution carries them round and they behold the things outside of the heaven. But the region above the heaven was never worthily sung by any earthly poet, nor will it ever be. It is, however,, as I shall tell; for I must dure to speuk the truth, especially as truth is my theme. For the colourless, formless, and intangible truly existing essence, with which all true knowledge is concerned, holds this region and is visible only to the mind, the pilot of the soul. How the divine intelligence, since it is nurtured on mind and pure knowledge, and the intelligence of every soul which is capable of receiving that which befits it, rejoices in seeing reality for a space of time and by gazing upon truth is nourished and made happy until the revolution brings it again to the same place. In the revolution it beholds absolute justice, temperance, and knowledge, not such knowledge as has a beginning and varies us it is associated with one another of the things we call aalities, but that which abides in the real eternal absolute; and in the same way it beholds and feeds upon the other eternal verities, after which, passing down again wtthln the heaven, it goes heme, and there the charioteer puts up the horses at the manger and feeds them with ambrosia and then gives them nectar to drink. Such is the life of the gods; but of the other souls, that which best follows after God and is most like him, raises the head of the dnricrteer up into the outer region and is carried round in the revolution, troubled by the horses and hardly beholding the realities; and another sometimes rises and sometimes sinks, and, because its horses are unruly, it sees some things and fails to see others. The other souls follow after, all yearning for the upper region but unable to reach it, and are carried round beneath, trampling upon and colliding with one another, each striving to pass its neighbor. So there is the greatest confusion and sweat of rivalry, wherein many are lamed, and manyvings are broken through the incompetence of the drivers; and after much toil they

2 t >

all go away without gulning a view of reality, and when they have gone uway they feed upon opinion. But the re .son of the great eagerness to see where the plain of truth is, lie:: in trie f ;ct that the fitting pasturage for the best part of the soul is in the meadow tuere. .nd the wing on which the soul is raised up Is nourished by this. ( gh.edruo , 2kr f c - 218 c, Loeb tr . ) Aitnough L i >crates speaks here in figurativelanguage. he to spe ;k the truth he as he must since truth is hi. theme. claims

The truth

.speaks is that the intangible truly existing essences hold a The place of this region

region which is visible only to the mind.

is simply outside" the outer surface of the heaven; the name of the place is "the eternal absolute." Although Plato necessarily

speaks in spatial and temporal words of the eternal absolute, his concern is not to locate this realm, but to locate the vantagepoint Once the summit is reached

from which true essences can be seen.

the soul is left to contemplation of each of the absolutes successively in the slow revolution of the extremity of the universe through the great year. The intuition of these objects is the true

nourishment of the soul, and without this nourishment the soul has nothing to feed upon but opinion. truth is laborious The ascent to the plain of Of these few,

and few only make the passage.

not all are able to maintain themselves for the duration of the complete revolution so as to see all of the objects in the eternal absolute r and many, vacillating, are able to see onlysome of the objects. It is not the objects that waver, or flicker like stars;

it is the soul of the onlooker; the objects are absolutely stable.

Moreover, the etern , 1 e.sence;: are objective to gods t s well ( i s to men; tney .re not divine thought a , in the sense th.t eternal object:exist -n the minds of the god;;, for the gods too see them us upurt from tr-emselvee . In the Tiiaaeuc , we recollect (29 a) the Constructor of the Cosmos "fixed his gaze on the Eternal," and the Cosmos was constructed "after the pattern of that which is apprehensible by reason and thought and is self identical." Thus knowledge,

for gods and for men, is true when the mind attains to complete objectivity and stability in the intuition of colourless, formless, intangible, truly existing essence. The account in the Phaedrus has given expression in figurative language to the same processes which are described in Epistle VII through summary and comparatively abstract language. It is pointless

to ask which account is better when Plato would have us use both. In the interaction of image and definition our attention is gradually focussed upon what is essential to the objects of knowledge, their objectivity and stability. Through the Images of the Phaedrus

and the abstract sentences of Epistle VII we are led to see the necessity of the ascent to contemplation of the eternal objects, if true knowledge is to be found, and the laboriousness of that ascent, although the processes used in the ascent are not explained; and at last we learn Plato's conviction that the thought of the mind can produce realities only after the mind has found true nourishment in the intuition of its eternal objects. Both the

27

dialogues and the epistle express the conclusion tint the soul knows when it has -squired aid preserved, through intuition and memory, the true nature of eternally existing essences. Yet the view that true knowledge depends on the intuition of objects as yet not known presents an obvious difficulty: for even

should the soul succeed in intuiting an object, how will it know that what it intuits is that which it did not know? is raised in the Meno: And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know? (Meno. 60 d, Jcrwett tr.) To answer, Socrates explains his doctrine of reminiscence, the belief that all inquiry and learning is but recollection of knowledge which the soul acquired before birth, but does not have at hand because it has forgotten it. On this view, to inquire The question

means to ask questions of the soul which will lead to its spontaneous recovery of knowledge recollection. What is

recollected, of course, can be recognized because it was previously known. After Socrates demonstrates his doctrine in a famous passage

by eliciting true answers from an uneducated slave to questions about geometry, Meno says, "I feel, somehow, that I like what you are saying. The basis of the argument is the hypothesis of the soul's immortality as recounted to -ocrates by certain priests and

28

priestesses -nd by inspired poets like Pindar.

According to these

venerable authorities, the soul is immortal, m d at one time suffers death, and at another time is born again, but is never destroyed. Prom this doctrine Socrates infers:

The soul, then, as being immortal, and having been born again many times, and having seen ull things that exist, whether in this world or in the world below, has knowledge of them all; and it is no wonder that she should be able to call to remembrance all that she ever knew about virtue, and about everything; for as all nature is akin, and the soul has learned all things, there is no difficulty in her eliciting or as men say learning, out of a single recollection all the rest, if a man is strenuous and does not faint; for all enquiry and all learning is but recollection. And therefore we ought not to listen to this sophistical argument about the impossibility of enquiry; for it will make us idle... .(Meno, 8 l a d, Jowett tr.) The doctrine is again discussed in the Phaedo (73 a - 77 a). Here it is interesting to notice that while in the Meno Plato derives his doctrine of recollection from the immortality of the soul, in the Phaedo, conversely, he derives the soul's immortality from the doctrine of recollection. The argument for recollection in the Phaedo is more detailed and more interesting than in the Meno. Having pointed out that what is remembered must already have been learned, Plato then asserts that all learning is recollection. To justify this

assertion, he begins by observing that recollection is caused both by like and unlike things: for example the portrait of Simias

reminds one of Simlas; but it may remind one of Slmlas1 friend Cebes.

29

Thus vhen a man perceives a thing and also has a perception of some other thing, the knowledge of which is not the same but different, he -recollects this second perception. Although recollection can be

caused by like or unlike things , when it is caused by like things, the mind inevitably considers whether the likeness in any way falls short of what is recollected. After this preparation, rlato enters

upon the body of the .rgument, an analysis of the relations between absolute equality / T - ' * by sense. and equal things perceived

Upon the admission that there is such a thing as abstract

equality and that we know what it is, he attempts to identify the source of our knowledge of it, and he finds that we are led to the notion of abstract equality from seeing^qual stones and equal pieces of wood, and generally from objects that seem to the senses equal. But objects which are equal to sight, or to other senses, sometimes appear to us equal in one respect and unequal in another, while absolute equals are always equal -- equality is never inequality. Thus equals perceptible to sense are not the same as abstract equality; yet it is from objects equal to sense, which are not the same as equality, that we conceive and acquire knowledge of abstract equality. Yet, heobserves, this makes no difference

for recollection, for whether objects equal to sense are like or unlike abstract equality, so long as perception of equals brings perception of equality, there must be recollection. It should be obvious now that objects equal to sense fall short

30

of absolute equality.

But for anyone to be able to say that equal

objects of sense fall short of absolute equality, one must first have knowledge of the absolute equality to which the objects of sense are compared; at the same, time it is impossible
1

c > know that

equal objects of sense full short of absolute equality except through the medium of the senses . for it is through the senses that we learn that all objects of sense fall short of tbsolute equality. Therefore, before we began to use the senses, we must somewhere have gained a knowledge of absolute equality; otherwise we could not compare the equality perceptible to sense with absolute equality or see that objects equal to sense fall short of absolute equality. But, he notices, we began to use the senses at birth; therefore, it appears that we acquired knowledge of absolute equality, and, indeed, of all absolute notions, such as the good, the |ist. the holy, before we were bom. Now if , he says, after acquiring this knowledge, we did not forget it, we must have been bora knowing it and must have continued to know it throughout our lifetime. But if we lost this knowledge

at birth, while afterwards by the use of the senses we regained the knowledge we had previously possessed, then the process of learning would really be recovering knowledge which is our own. concludes, would be recollection. This, he

We do not always know the absolute

ideas; yet we do learn them; therefore, learning is recollection. Consequently these absolute ideas must have existed in our souls

31

prior to birth.

But if the ideas in the soul existed before we

were born, then the soul existed, apart from the body, and before entering human form-, and it was intelligent. The critical point of the argument occurs when Plato introduces what seems to be the idea of perfection. He does not argue that a simple judgment of perception is impossible unless we already possess the ideas that enter into the judgment, for he admits that we can see that two things are equal and, presumably, say or Judge that they are equal simply by naming what we perceive. Language,

we recollect, is competent to designate perceptible qualities. Bather, he argues that after we judge that two objects of sense are equal, we are led to consider how equal they are, and to conclude that they are not perfectly equal because they are seen to be equal In some respects but not in others. It is the judgment

that equal things are not absolutely equal which requires a pre existing notion of an absolute: ve must have the notion of

perfect equality before we can say that objects of sense are never perfectly equal. Consequently, the important ideas that the soul

acquired before its entering human form are ideas of the absolute, separate, existing eternal essences, and these essences are perfect in their kind, containing everything essential to their kind without admixture of any other kind. The ideas of these

perfect essences are the ideas which Plato claims are innate in the human soul.

32

Although men poetess these Ideas from birth and throughout life, still a man does not have them at hand. between having The distinction is made

r_j ;nd possessing xt, ,, , j y < tt J

clear in the Theaetetus: I should distinguish 'having' from 'possessing': for example, a man may buy and keep under his control a garment vhicn he does not wear; and then ve should say, not that he has, but that he possesses the garment. -- It would be the correct expression. -Well, may not a man 'possess' and yet not 'have' knowledge in the sense of which I am speaking? As you may suppose a man to have caught wild birds -doves or any other birds and to be keeping them in an aviary which he has constructed at home; we might say of him in one sense, that he always has them because he possesses them, might we not? -Yes. -- And yet, in another sense, he has none of them; but they are in his power, and he has got them under his hand in an enclosure of his own, and can take and have them whenever he likes; --he can catch any which he likes, and let the bird go again, and he may do so as often as he pleases. ( Theaetetus. 197 c d, Jowett tr.) In order to bring Innate ideas into consciousness one must deliberately hunt for them. In the hunt or inquiry the senses

are instrumental, for they acquaint us with objects in the changing world, aul these objects remind us, sometimes through likeness, sometimes through chance association, of objects in the intelligible world. Although sensible images can never of them

selves constitute knowledge, they are a condition of recollection, and consequently, one of the necessary means of knowledge. Plato

does not adopt an attitude of radical scepticism toward the senses. Reminiscence plays many roles in Plato's philosophy: it

Berves as an argument for the immortality of the soul; it is used

33

to explain how inquiry is possible; it is related with the doctrine of metempsychosis; it contains Plato's doctrine of innate ideas; and it asserts that all learning is recollection. Perhaps the

doctrine that all learning is recollection should be qualified to apply only to human learning, to the learning of a soul that has entered human form, for it does not apply to the acquisition of knowledge that the soul makes apart from the body. If the soul

apart from the body had to acquire knowledge through recollection, it never could learn: before the soul had learned all things, there

were some things it did not know, and not knowing them, it had no memory of them; but without knowledge and memory it could not recollect what it did not know. In short, there were some things However, Socrates has

which it neither possessed nor had.

described the manner of the soul's learning when it existed apart from human form: The soul, then, as being immortal, and having been born again many times, and having seen all things that exist, whether in this world or in the world below, has knowledge of them all. (Meno, 81 c, Jewett tr.) Thus if the soul's knowledge is acquired by intuition rather than by recollection, we should distinguish between human and divine learning, saying that all human learning is recollection, while all divine learning is intuition.

That all human learning which does not involve recollection in the sense just described ends in something less than knowledge

31 *

is, on Plato's assumptions, self-evident.

To this kind of learning

Pl.ito everywhere gives the name "opinion," to distinguish it on the one hand from knowledge and on the other from nescience or ignorance (cf.esp. Rep. V, Although opinion is not knowledge, Pl'.to

admits that the distinction between true opinion and false opinion isvalid. Moreover, in the Meno (97 t > ) Socrates assures us that to correct action as knowledge" and What then is the difference Meno suggests (97 c) that "the

"trueopinion is as good a guide

"is not less useful than knowledge." between true opinion and knowledge?

difference, Socrates, is only that he who has knowledge will always be right; but he who has right opinion will sometimes be right, and sometimes not." Socrates objects: "What do you mean? Can he be

wrong who has right opinion, so long as he has right opinion?" (97 c) Meno replies, "I admit the cogency of your argument, and therefore, Socrates, I wonder that knowledge should be preferred- to right opinion -- or why they should ever differ." (97 c l ) Then Socrates gives his answer, comparing right opinion to the images of Sedalus: Soc. And shall I explain this wonder to you? -- Men. Do tell me. Soc. You would not wander if you had ever observed the images of Daedalus; but perhaps you have not got them in your country? Men. What have they to do with the question? -- Soc. Because they require to be fastened in order to keep them, and if they are not fastened they will play truant and run away. -- Men. Well, what of that? Soc. I mean to say that they are not very valuable possessions if they are at liberty, for they will walk off like runaway slaves; but when fastened, they are of great value, for they are really beautiful works of art. Now this is an illustration of the nature

35

of true opinions: while they abide with us they are beautiful and fruitful, but they run away out of the human soul, and do not remain long, and therefore they are not of much value until they are fastened by the tie of the cause j ~ . \i . ,' > -ud this fastening of them, friend Meno is recollection, as you and I have agreed to call it. But when they are bound, in the first place, they have the nature of knowledge; and in the second place, they are abiding. And this is why knowledge is more honourable and excellent than true opinion, because fastened by a chain. ( Meno, 97 d 98 a, Jowett tr. ) In this passage Plato reveals that he considers the essential nature and purpose of the process of philosophical knowledge to be the conversion of opinion into knowledge -- the transmutation of what was inherently subjective and changeable into what is inherently objective and fixed. The phrase "by an account of the cause"

is particularly suggestive, since it causes us to recollect the phrase "to give an account" cNc3vi _7

which is Plato's usual formula, for the process of dialectic. Until now we have been considering the static elements in Plato's theory of method and knowledge: objects the means of knowing, the

of knowledge, the condition of intuition,the nature of

recollection; now ve must turn to the more active processes. In Epistle VII Plato refers to these processes as "kindly proofs" and "questionings and answerings that are void of envy." Inthe

epistle Plato may have used these two phrases as synonyms so that both refer to the dialectic described in the Republic. But

it is convenient, and not false to Plato's thought, to take them separately, letting "kindly proofs" refer to the dialectic and

36

"questionings and answerlngs devoid of envy" to the practice of Socrates in the earlier dialogues. For although both processes

are instances of the technique of question and answer, they are employed with different ends in view: the dialectic deliberately

seeks the essential nature of things; the Socratic questioning, the elenchus, seeks principally to set the energies of the mind to work philosophically. Often Plato's practical aim 1b to place his

readers in a position to discover philosophical truths for themselves rather than to tell them about what he conceives to be the truth. His principal aim then is to make pLilosophers, not to present a systematic analysis of some philosophical question. How successful

he was is attested through generations by the many who claim that a reading of the Dialogues first set the energy of their minds to work philosophically. Tet it would be a gross mistake to suppose that Plato himself is perplexed when the ostensible conclusion of a dialogue is general perplexity. When Plat,'a practical aim is dominant, he

is willing to conceal his own position rather than put an end to perplexity by providing a ready answer; but we must not confuse a concealed dialectical position viththe lack of one. In some of

the early dialogues Socrates is made to assert that he knows noting of the question under discussion, but that he is willing to join the inquiry. We have already considered Meno's rejoinder to obviously Meno believed that

Socrates when he made that assertion;

Socrates did know what virtue is. And so too in many other dialogues

Lysis, Charmides, Aicibiddes all laugh at Socrates when he says he does not know answers to the questions he reises. The Laches perhaps is most instructive on this point. Laches, In

Nicias, and Socrates undertake to find a definition of courage.

his best effort Laches defines courage as a kind of endurance of the soul, but Socrates points out that the definition does not exclude foolhardiness or animal fierceness. Nicias defines courage as the knowledge of what ought and ought not to be feared, but Socrates shows that this definition makes courage identical with virtue, although it had been agreed that courage is ejpart of virtue. Socrates himself is unable to define courage, and so the dialogue concludes. What then is Plato's definition of courage? In the

Republic Socrates does give a definition, saying that courage is the endurance of the soul in the knowledge of what is or Is not to be feared ( Rep. IV, ^29-^30). He has joined in one definition the The

two definitions which had been offered by Lache and Nicias.

Lache8 and the Republic together are good grounds for believing that Plato thought courage is endurance in wisdom. Thus it is more

credible to assume that in writing the Laches Plato distributed the two parts of his own definition to two persons in the dialogue than to assume that at the time of writing the Laches Plato had not yet farmed a definition of courage, or that he never had a definitive concept that he thought true. In a word it is unlikely that

Plato very often wrote without a dialectical understanding of what

38

he vus writing about.

clever reader of the Laches, asking himself at

die end of the dialogue what courage is, could put the two partial answers together to arrive at Plato's thought, but in doing so the clever reader would find himself engaged in dialectical thinking; those of us who are less clever can come to see the drift of the Laches through reading the Republic, reinforcing our understanding of the definition there by our recollection of the definition in the Laches. At the end of the Laches both Nicias and Laches are in a state of perplexity, and this state had been induced by Socrates' technique of questioning without envy, which had succeeded in showing Nicias and Laches that their fancied knowledge was actually unreliable opinion. The effect of Socratic questioning,

conversion of fancied knowledge into opinion, is opposite to the effect of dialectic, the conversion of opinion into knowledge. Dialectic, which searches for knowledge, pesupposes Socratic question and answer, which induces perplexity, for we will not seek to know unless we are convinced that we do not know. Throughout

the DlaLgues Plato consistently claims that we can be in one of three positions with respect to truth: we can be ignorant; we can think If we know truth we

we know when we do not know; or we can know.

can reflect upon it to come to know it better and to derive new truths from it, or we can defend it, or we can discuss it with those who do not know it. If we are ignorant of a thing, we cun

39

either discover it for ourselves or discuss it with those who know. If we think we know when in fact we do not know, we can only remain caught in false opinion until something happens to convert our false confidence into perplexity, for so long as we tnlnk we know, we are not likely to question our fancied knowledge, since one seldom inquires into what he already knows: but if we become perplexed, we are likely to take up inquiry again. With llato

perplexity is a necessary condition of knowledge, and the induction of perplexity is the principal aim of the Socratic technique of question and answer. For example, in Alclbiades I

Socrates, while discussing the nature of perplexity (116 e - 118 b) explains that a man Is not perplexed about something he knows or about something of which he is ignorant, but that he is reduced to perplexity ifhen somehow or other he discovers that he does not know what he thinks he knows. People who truly know do not

make mistakes in their affairs; nor do people who are ignorant, for thinking they do not know, they entrust their affairs to others who do know. But false opinion, which Socrates describes as

ignorance of the disgraceful sort, is misleading and mischievous, and it is most disgraceful and most mischievous when it concerns the greatest matters. When ..lcibiades admits that his fancied

knowledge of politics was really ignorance of the disgraceful sort, then Socrates becomes willing to assist him in the effort to improve himself by entering upon philosophical studies. Clearly, with

1*0

Plato the beginning of wisdom is the self-conscious recognition of one's own ignorance, and the first step in the teaching of philosophy is to help a man to make this discovery for himself.

Yot Plato is not unaware of the dangers inherent in Socrates1 technique of arousing perplexity. In the Theaetetus Socrates

describes the result that his art of midwifery has upon some young men: ...many of them in their ignorance, either in their self-conceit despising me, or falling under the influence of others, have gone away too soon; and have not only lost the children of whom I had previously delivered them by an ill bringing up, but have stifled whatever else they had in them by evil communications, being fonder of lies and 8hams than of the true; and they have at last ended by seeing themselves,as others see them, to be great fools. Aristeides, the son of Lysimachus, is one of them, and there are many others. The truants often return to me, and beg that I would consort with them again -- they are ready to go to me on their knees and then, if my familiar allows, which is not always the case, I receive them, and they begin to grow again. Dire are the pangs which my art is able to arouse and to allay in those who consort with me, just like the pangs of wcmen in childbirth; night and day they are full of perplexity and travail which is even worse than that of the women. (Theaetetus, 150 e - 151 a, Jowett tr . ) No doubt, in the city of Athens Socrates had to practice his questioning where and when he might, hoping for the best results; but under the ideal conditions of eduction in the Republic. Plato takes every precaution in introducing young men to the

1*1

study of dialectics,

and he observes:

...is it not one chief safeguard not to suffer them to taste of it while young. For I fancy you have not failed to observe that lads, when they first get a taste of disputation, misuse it as a form of sportalways employing it contentiously, and. imitating confuters, they themselves confute others. They delight like puppies in pulling about and tearing with words all who approach them." "Exceedingly so," he said. "And when they have themselves confuted many and been confuted by many, they quickly fall into a vident distrust of all thet they formerly held true; and the outcome is that they themselves and the whole business of philosophy are discredited with other men." "Most true.." he said. "But an older man will not share this craze," said I, "but will rather choose to imitate the one who consents to examine truth dialect ically than the one who makes a jest and a sport of mere contradiction, and so he will himself be more reasonable and moderate, and bring credit rather than discredit upon his pursuit." (Rep, vii, 539 b c, Loeb tr.) So in the Republic Plato reserves both phases of the dialectic for the last five years of the young philosopher's studies, and he precedes the dialectic with ten years of mathematical studies. In the seventh book of the Republic, after Socrates and Glaucon have agreed that the true philosopher is distinguished by his ability to rise in thought to the contemplation of the

?In the account of dialectic in the Republic the Socratic elenchus is not mentioned, and it is difficult to distinguish the Socratic technique of question and answer from the dialectic proper, since both are the technique which the soul employs in conversing with itself. The first effect of the dialect of the Republic would be practical: inducing perplexity. The further use of the dialectic to artive at truth would be the part I have referred to as 'dialectic."

h2

real objects of the intelligible world, Socrutes asks, "Wh^t, then, Glaucon, would be the study that would draw the soul iway from the world of -becoming to the world of being?" ( hep. VII, $21 d, Loebt r . , 1 The discussion then turns upon an analysis and evaluation of the mathematical sciences as .m instrument in the training of the true philosopher (Rep. VII, 522-532). By these sciences are

meant arithmetic, not as the art of calculation but as the theory of the nature and properties of number; geometry, both plane and spherical; astronomy, the science of the motions of the heavenly solids; and harmony, studied not as an empirical evaluation of concordent sounds, but as an abstract study of the nature of concord as a basis for the better understanding of the beautiful and the good. ( Rep. VII, 531 c). Plato does not deny that the

mathematical sciences have practical applications, and indeed to the extent that his philosopha: kings must be administrators a r>d warriors he values the studies for these purposes; but his attention is chiefly given to their value for the training of the philosopher. The most obvious value of these sciences is

that they study things which apply to all the arts and sciences alike, the "trifling matter of distinguishing one, two and three." But their principal value, one that is not ordinarily made use of, lies in their power to awaken thought and to make explicit the difference between the intelligible and the visible ( Rep. VII, 523-

52h).

^3

Here Tlato enters upon an account of one' of the natural causec of perplexity: qualities. the sensations which provoke opposite

To illustrate his meaning he observes that the

perception of a finger or of several fingers never leads a man to ask what a finger is, since the faculty of sight never signifies at the same time that the finger is the opposite of a finger. But when the perception seems to communicate something

of the bigness and smallness of objects, or of thickness and thinness, softness and hardness, the senses seem to be in some way defective, for "the sensation th-t is set over the hard is of necessity related also to the soft, and it reports to the soul that the same thing is both hard and soft to its perception." ( Rep. VII, 524 a, Loeb tr.) In this state of confusion, the soul

calls to its aid the "calculating reason" and cansidrs whether each of the things reported to it is one or two; and seeing that there is an appearance here of two and that of the two each is a distinct unit, the soul conceives each as distinct, and no longer regards them in the confounded state in which they were presented by sensation, in this way the visible finds its clarification The perplexity

and distinct apprehension in the intelligible.

which the mind experiences in the perception of the contradictory qualities of things causes the mind to reflect upon its sensations and by means of calculating reason to institute a clarification which leads progressively toward the apprehension

1 * 4

of e sence

What now is the case with numbers and with the unity which is the beginning of numbers and the guide of calculating reason? Unlers there.is something contradictory in the apprehension of unity the mind will not be led to reflect, and apart from reflection it will not approach the essence of things. The

visual perception of unity does involve contradictions, "For we see the same thing at once as one and as an indefinite plurality." ( Rep. VII, 525 Loeb tr.;. ThuB our thought is aroused and we

are led to ask what the one is as such, and the study of unity in arithmetic is "one of the studies that guide and convert the soul to the contemplation of true being." (Rep. VII, 525 Loeb tr.).

In general, the qualities of number as they are studied in arithmetic lead to the apprehension of intelligible truth by guiding the mind away from the region of generation to lay hold on essence, and compelling the soul to employ pure thought with a view to truth itself. for as Geometry too is a suitable study for the philosopher,

the knowledge of the eternally existent" (527 b) it draws

the soul to truth, "directing upward the faculties that now wrongly are purned earthward." (527 c). These two studies purify and

awaken to activity the intelligent part of the soul, a part which many do not know to exist: It is Indeed no trifling task, but very difficult to realize that there is in every soul an organ or instrument of knowledge that is purified and kindled

afresh by such studies when it has been destroyed and blinded by our ordinary pursuits, a faculty whose preservation outweighs ten thousand eyes; for by it only is reality beheld. ( Rep. VII. 527 d 527 e . Loeb tr.) Astronomy is to be studied because it leads to the understanding of pure motions, using "the blazonry of the heavens" as patterns to aid in the study of re-1 speed and real slowness in true number and in all true figures, as apprehended only by reason and thought. Lastly there will be the study of the

abstract nature of concord in harmonics. In none of the mathematical studies is there a complete turning away from the world of sense since each science makes use of some part of the world of generation. The value of

studying these sciences lies in deliberately taking objects of sense as patterns to guide the mind in its search for objective and stable realities, and in making the sensible world suggest the intelligible world. Thus the eldola of the world of generation

lose their power of fascinating and confomding the mind. Nevertheless, the mathematical sciences are but a prelude to true philosophical study and cannot themselves lead the soul to the true essences of things. To arrive at a true knowledge of

the essence of things the philosopher must resort to dialectic, a form of discourse which attempts systematically and in all cases to determine what each thing really is. It is discourse carried

on in the intelligible realm of thought, apart from sensation, and it alms to advance to the very limit of the intelligible world.

U6

I t , is progressive ;nd connectedthought, and the form of its movement is question and answer ( Rep. VII, 531 " 1 ^ * 1 , ' . differs both fron the mathematical sciences and from the i.iterury arts of sophist and rhetor. Plato is always careful "You surely," asks It

to distinguish dialect from mathematics:

Socrates, "do not suppose that experts in .these matters ^mathematical studies/ are reasoners and dialecticians?" ( Rep. VII, 531 d). In the Theaetetus Theodorus, the eminent and competent mathematician, finds himself at a loss when invited to join in the exchange of question and answer with Socrates, and he excuses himself, saying: "I would rather that you would ask one of the

young fellows; for the truth is, that I am unused to your game of question and answer, and I am too old to learn...." (Theaetetus, 1U6 b, Jowett tr.). A little later he complains, "I was too soon

diverted from the abstractions of dialectic to geometry." ( Theaetetus, 165 a, Jowett tr.). The literary arts, poetry,

rhetoric, sophistry are notorious with Socrates for their failure to give an acceptable account of the opinions with which they deal (e.g., Ion, Gorgias, Euthydemus). "But have you ever supposed,"

asks Socrates, "that men who could not render and exact an account of opinions in discussion would ever know anything of the things ve say must be known?" (Rep. VII, 531 Loeb tr.)

The weakness of the arts is that they "have for their object the opinions and desires of men or are wholly concerned with

1*7

generation and composition or vith the service and tendance of the things that grov and are put together;" ( Rep. Via. >33 b)> the inherent weakness of the mathematical sciences is that 'they le ve

the assumptions vr.ich they employ undisturbed and cannot give any account of them.' ( Rep. VII . 5^3 c, Loeb tr.). Thus dialectics

is "the only process of inquiry that advances in this manner, doing uway vith hypotheses, up to the first principle itself in order to find confirmation there." ( Rep. VII, 533 d loeb t r .)

Although neither mathematics nor the literary arts is truly dialectical, it is obvious that Platos dialectic draws upon both. Mathematics provides the example of close, consecutive reasoning upon intelligible essences; the arts of conversation show how an initial assumption may be continually clarified, analyzed, and revised in an upward spiral that eventually may lead to a higher principle acceptable by all the parties to the conversation. The sources of the Platonic dialectic dialogue - not the Platonic

are to be found, no doubt, in Socrates game of It Is

question and ansver and in contemporary mathematics.

reasonable to assume that Socrates had more of an influence upon Plato than mathematics did, since the distinguishing features of the dialectic assumptions question and ansver used to correct initial

are present in Socratic conversations and absent

from mathematics. Dialectic, unlike mathematics, presses on to the limits of

the intelligible world, refusing to limit itself by anything snort of an ultimate principle: ...when anyone by dialectics attempts through discourse of reason and apart from all perceptions of sense to find his way to the very essence of each thing and does not desist till he apprehends by thought itself the nature of the good in itself, he arrives at the limit of the intelligible.... ( Hep. VII. 532 a b, Loeb tr. ) With Li'.o the limit of the intelligible, the ultimate goal of dialectic, is the idea of the good, the reality that gives their truth to the objects of knowledge and the power of knowing tothe knower." ( Rep. VI, 508 e, Loeb tr.). reach this limit. ...the man who is unable to define in his discourse anflftlBtinguish and abstract from all other things the aspect or idea of the good, and who cannot, as it were in battle, running the gauntlet of all tests, and striving to examine everything by essential reality and not by opinion, hold cm his way through all this Without tripping in his reasoning - the man who lacks this power, you will say, does not really know the good itself or any particular good; but if he apprehends any adumbration of it, his contact with it is by opinion, not by knowledge; and dreaming and dozing through his present life, before he awakens here he will arrive at the house of Hades and fall asleep forever. (Rep. VII, 53I + c d, Loeb tr.) In this passage Plato describes the process of dialectic as a battle and as a succession of tests, lsqges which suggest that dialectic is continually resolving oppositions in thought. The Every effort must be made to

principal image aaed in Books VI and VII is that of a progress from picture-thinking to science, an image which emphasizes dialectic as a process of converting opinion into knowledge. The general

course of the progress of the dialectic from sensible world to the limits of the Intelligible world in symbolized in the familiar symbol of the line, in the metaphor of the sun and the good, and in the myth of the cave, 'fhe effect of the dialectic is to

lift the soul from the 'barbaric slough" of sheer sensation, and in the progress from sense to intelligence the dialectic employs "as helpers and co-operators in this conversion the studies and sciences which we enumerated, which we called science often from habit, though they really need some other designation, connoting more clearness than opinion and more obscurity than science." (Rep. VII, 533 Loeb tr.). One of the immediate effects of

progress made through the rigorous use of dialectic is an increasing perception of the affinities of things with one another and with the nature of things. But this effect is also a condition of

further progress in the dialectic, "For he who can view things in their connexion is a dialectician; he vho cannot, is not." (Rep. VII, 537 Loeb tr.). Dialectic then is the peculiar and

proper method of philosophy, and it consists in the progressive and connected discourse which the soul carries on with itself by means of questions and answers about intelligible objects. We are in a position now to summarize some of the features of Plato s theories of method and knowledge. Knowledge is the soul's

perception of intelligible objects as they are in themselves and in their connection with one another and with the whole of nature.

Any in:;t .nee of true knowledge depends upon the intuition of an intelligible object so that any judgnent which is not bssed upon an Intuition of an intelligible object cannot be a perfectly true Judgment. Intelligible objects exist as absolute, separate, pure

stable objects, perceptible only by the intelligent soul, divine or human; these objects are equally objective to gods and to men. The world of generation and corruption perceptible to human senses is but an image of the intelligible world and acquaintance with the sensible world can never yield scientific knowledge. For men the

problem of acquiring knowledge is the problem of finding a method for moving from acquaintance vith the sensible world to intuition of the objects of the intelligible world. There are grades of philosophical thinking, measured by the degree in which thought approaches true knowledge. At itslowest

level, philosophical thinking is a psychological activity in which the soul discourses with itself by means of language in an effort to resolve perplexities which it has perceived in the objects of its attention. Philosophical thinking requires perplexity as a

condition of taking thought and language as a means of knowing. Perplexity may be aroused naturally when the soul perceives that the reports of sense are contradictory, or artificially when in the course of conversation a person finds himself unable to account for or to defend opinions which he had previously considered indisputable. The effort to resolve perplexity

philosophically requires the use of language, but the principal

51

instrument:: of laiguage -- name, definition, and image -- are inherently defective, because they have been adapted to describe properties of the sensible world *nd not essences of the intelligible world. Thus an imp lose results: the means of knowing direct the

attention of the mind to the sensible world, but acquaintance with this world never constitutes true knowledge. resolved by two postulates: The impasse is

(1) The sensible world is an image of

the intelligible world; (2) The soul before it entered human form had intuition of intelligible objects, but upon entering human form the soul forgot its knowledge.. On these grounds Plato is

able to say that awareness of the sensible world can cause the soul to recollect sane of its knowledge of the intelligible world. But since the objects of the intelligible world are all connected with each other, recollection of one object is enough to lead to other objects in an ever increasing knowledge of the whole. The methods of knowledge are techniques for putting the mind in a position to perceive and reason with intelligible objects. The mathematical sciences, being farthest removed from objects of sense, are a necessary discipline in the training of philosophers, since training in these sciences trains the mind to deal with what is essential in objects. Once the mind has been trained to look for essentials rather than for qualities of things, imaginative techniques of language can be used as a device for directing the attention of the mind to the nature of essences. In short, whatever can be made to direct attention

52

upon essence rather th^n upon quality will lead the mind to the intuition of eternal e^senceu. The method of philosophy is essentially dialectical, over coming perplexity by definition, ccoparison, -nalysis and synthesis of opposing opinions in a steady movement from the non-essentiul to the essentiul, in the conviction that essence is the mark of intelligibility. Whoever through dialectic has perceived account of what he knows; but since

essential truth can give

all accounts of truth must be expressed in language, which can only suggest but never express ecatnje, these accounts will be defective. Nevertheless, the philosopher must attempt to express

his knowledge either in defense of the truth he has found or in discussing his knowledge with others. In his account he makes

use of abstract reasoning or of inuges. Abstract reasoning has a clOBe affinity to the intelligible; Image has the viue of awakening the soul's power of recollection. Language can never

convey the eternal object of thought in itself, but gives expression to the idea of the object. Thus the idea of the soul

can be expressed abstractly as "the motion which moves itself" or through an image as in the charioteer of the Phaedrus. Although written or spoken expressions of truth can never convey truth, they can awaken the intuition of truth in a soul which has been properly prepared. Plato's ideal of knowledge precludes dogmatism, for according to his theory only ^ mind which knows what is true and what is

53

false of the whole of existence can claim to know the truth. he is not sceptical of knowledge

Yet

for the philosopher possessed

of certain gifts, exercised intelligently and diligently, cun come to perceive some intelligible truths. Pluto is evidently u .

rationalist to the extent that he thinks that human reason is the primary instrument of determining what is true and what is good; he is an idealist in the sense that he thinks the intuition of intelligible objects is necessary and decisive for knowledge. He is not sceptical of the senses since he thinks

that sensation has a necessary place in the process of knowledge: the sensible world suggests the intelligible world. Although he

has respect for language, he is not a literary philosopher; and although he has respect for mathematics . he is not a mathematical philosopher. His philosophy is a sustained conversation in quest

of the intelligible.

B.

Alexandrian Platonists:

Philo and Clement.

The philosophy of Plato did not remain unchanged as it passed from mind to mind in succeeding generations. In the Platonism

with which Spinoza was familiar two forms at least must be distinguished: one established by ^t. Augustine in the fifth

century AD and developed in various ways throughout the middle ages; another, Renaissance Platonism, established by Marsilio Ficino in the fifteenth century with his Latin translations and commentaries on the works of Plato and Plotinus, and developed by the Jewish and Christian members of the Florentine academy. The differences between these late Platonisms and the Platonism of Plato cannot be adequately understood without some insight into the work of the Alexandrian Platonists, and notably that of Philo the Alexandrian (20 BC - 50 AD), in whose mind the discovered

Philo, a member of a wealthy and influential Jewish family in Alexandria, devoted his life to showing that the Jewish Scripture contained implicitly the fullness of wisdom which the Greek philosophers had unsuccessfully sought through their unaided reason. He was a man of many sides and Interests: politician, statesman; student of Greek philosophy and literature; learned interpreter of Scripture; contemplative; mystic. Although his native speech was Greek, from childhood he had been trained in the cultures of Judaism and Hellenism. That his allegiance to Judaism was fundamental is indicated by his refusal to acknowledge the divinity of the emperer, for such an acknowledgment would have identified GaiuB or Claudius as the Messiah, leaving the special claims of the Jewish people meaningless. Similarly with Scripture. If the wisdom of the Torah was simply another form of human wisdom, or if human reason by itself could arrive at revealed truths, again the special el&lms of the Jewish people vere meaningless. Philo, deeply learned in both traditions, set himself to discover the similarities and differences between the wisdom of the Greeks and the wisdom of Scripture. Cf. E. R. Goodenough, An Introduction to Philo Judaeus (New Haven, I9E0 ), pp. 91-95.

55

trutr.s of the Greek philosophers and the revealed truth of Scripture were blended in a system which made philosophy the handmaid of Scr icture. It was a certainty with Philo that all knowledge came-: from God. If then revealed truth agrees with the truths of philosophy,

as often happens, how did the philosophers arrive at these truths without the aid of revelation? Philo indicates three possible

solutions, all of which were appealed to by Jewish, Moslem and Christian thinkers who followed him. It is possible that the

philosophers knew Moses, for many of them have recounted their travel; outside Greece and referred to "wise men" whom they met. Again, it is possible that they discovered many truths simply by the use of their native reason, for the mind of man is not inherently incapable of truth. Most likely, however, philosophy

was a divine gift to the Greeks which enabled them by use of reason combined with the senses to discover vhat had been especially revealed to the Jews: i.e., philosophy was a revelation to the

Greeks in a divine shower from the mind of God. Tet Philo insists that human knowledge is limited and unreliable, so that philosophy, based upon the use of the human mind, is unable to solve many problems: such problems as the

nature of soul and mind; their origin, composition and destiny; the nature of the world and whether it is created or uncreated; the questions whether man is the measure of all things, or of none; the nature of phenomena or entitles existing beyond the orbit of

56

the moon; the determination of what things, if any, are truly comprehensible by human mind. The philosopher in his effort to

solve such problems . i s betrayed by unreliable instruments, for finite mind is dependent upon senses which are continually liable to error even when the bodily organ is perfect. Thus philosophers

need a more than human guide, and that guide is found in Scripture. The Greek philosophers were not unacquainted withthe notion that wisdom is to be found in a body of ancient writings. In the

popular mind the works of Homer and Hesiod had gradually oome to be a storehouse of wisdom. Although philosophers like Heraclitus

were contemptuous of the reputation accorded to Homer and Hesiod as the teachers of Greece, others, especially the Stoics, felt that much wisdom was contained In their writings and could be extracted from them by allegorical interpretation. The ancient

myths too were thought to embody an inchoate, primitive wisdom which could be discerned by philosophical interpretation. Plato

often shows a respect for portions of ancient tradition, and we have already seen in the He no that Socrates bases his argument for reminiscence upon statements of certain priests gnd priestesses and by inspired poets like Pindar. Yet Plato did not regard himself

as bound by the sayings of such people; he admired their statements for their suggestiveness, reverenced them for their antiquity, but he developed their implications rationally. In general, the

Greek philosophers insisted that the philosophical knowledge which

57

enabled a man to make use of the myths was a higher kind of knowledge than that which had led to the formation of the myths, and that the wisdom which could be recovered from the myths depended for its validity upon a general philosophy- The inspiration vnich possessed the priests and poets, although divine, Was not regarded as a kind of knoiedge. Ultimately, true knowledge was .

in some fashion the product of human mind. Philo's attitude toward Scripture was quite different from the philosopher's attitude toward myth: for Philo the wisdom

embodied in Scripture was divine, infallible, and fundamental, and some of the truths it contained were both necessary to wisdom and hidden from reason using sense. In any conflict

between philosophy and Scripture, philosophy based upon unaided human reason must yield. Philo regarded the Greek myths as

man made, and of little or no use for knowledge, but he found the method of allegorical interpretation used by Greek philosophers a congenial practice. Scripture, of course, must be interpreted

to be understood, and since "God is not as man" (Num. 23:19) it seemed obvious that anthropomorphic expressions were not to be taken literally. Such expressions he thought were introduced for

"the instruction of the many," "out of regard for the ways of thinking of the duller folk"; "it is for training and adaor it ion, not because God's nature is such, that these words are used." Thus

Philo distinguished between literal and allegorical, or underlying,

58

meanings in Scriptural texts.

But distinction between literal and how were passages

allegorical meanings raised immediate difficulty:

to be interpreted which asjerted that God did or said something? were all passages framed in abstract language to be taken at face value?
as

In general, Philo insisted that nothing was to be admitted

true which was "base and unworthy of the inspired word of God."

He seems, however, never to have found a really satisfactory criterion for the interpretation of Scripture. Essentially,

allegorical interpretation requires the interpretation of one thing in terms of something else; but what is that something else to be? For example, when Philo read of the lover and the. beloved

in the Song of Songs, he understood God to be the lover and the Congregation of Israel to be the beloved; when Christians interpreted the same passage, they understood the terms to refer to Christ and his Church. In his search for explicit signs of underlying meanings,

Philo seems to have gone so far as to regard different verb tenses as signs of different J a rels of meaning, but no consistent system could be worked out. For assistance in the difficult and subtle The

task of interpretation, Philo turned to Greek philosophy.

conjunction of philosophy and Scripture, of the best in human thought with the revelation of divine wisdom, seemed a natural union which in a sense completed both, for philosophy was thereby provided with an Infallible guide, and the inlmrpreter of Scripture found a most useful Instrument for uncovering the wisdom of

59

revelation.

Philosophy in relation to the preparatory studies of

the liberal arts had long been regarded as "mistress" of "handmaids"; now in relation to Scripture she in turn became the bondvom<ai. This Philanic conception proved congenial to Christian, Arabic and Jewish theologians. Peter Damian refers to philosophy as a handmaid

serving her mistress theology vith "a certain obsequiousness of servitude"; Averroes calls philosophy the "foster-sister," "companion," "wife" of the Koran; Maimcm ides refers to the branches of philosophy as "strange women" compared with the Torah.9 Philo's revision of the theory of ideas is an interesting example of the differences engendered in Platonism by the conjunction of philosophy and S c r i p t u r e . B y the first century aD three views of the ideas were current: the Platonic view that the ideas exist

as uncreated incorporeal entities; the Neopythagorean view (dating from perhaps about 100 BC) that the ideas exist as thoughts in the divine mind; and the Aristotelian view that they have no existence apart from their immanence in things. Philo used each of these

theories t . o describe the kinds of existence of which the ideas are capable, according as he related them to God, to the created Logos, or to the created world. In relation to God, he asserts that the

ideas are conceived by God fron eternity, and that the ideas thus

^Quoted in H. A. Wolfson, Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism. Christianity, and Islam (Cambridge, Mass.,

19^7), I, 157-

Cf . 1^Wolfson, Philo. I, 200-294.

60

conceived embrace the whole range of possibility.

Then, since Philo

uccept the principle that thoughts are objects of a thinking mind, he postulates a divine mind which thinks the infinity of possible thoughts. These thoughts nd the divine mind which thinks them

are regarded as related to the essence of God, of whom we can most truly say only that He ..lone truly is and that He is prior to all the qualifications of existence. Yet we can think of the divine

mind which thinks all possible thoughts us the Logos or Wisdom of God Himself. The thoughts in the divine mind are more extensive than the ideas of the second phase, which constitute the intelligible world and serve as patterns for the created world. When God in

his wisdom chose to create the world, He conceived in his mind and then created as an intelligible world apart from himself those ideas which mere to be the patterns of the created world. In

creating an intelligible world apart frcm himself, He also created a mind to contain these thoughts, the created Logos. In the

created world the ideas take on a third kind of existence as immanent forms, and the Wisdom of God becomes an reducing matter to order and harmony. immanent Logos

Thus God is related to

the kaaaterial created Logos as cause to effect; the inmaterial created Logos is related to the Intelligible world as thinking mind to its object; the individual ideas of the intelligible world are related to that world as parts to whole. The intelligible

61

ideas are the patterns of immanent forms; the inmanent Logos is oh extension into matter of the pre-existent immaterial Logos. In revising Plato, Philo identifies the intelligible world (which no longer consists of nil possible ideas) with the immaterial created Logos. This created Logos in one sense is the intelligible

world,, and consists entirely of the ideas; in another sense it is the place of the ideas as the container of the contained. In

the Timaeus the Demiurge had looked to the eternally existing ideas according to which he then created the world: in Philo God

first conceived the ideas, some of which are then used as patterns for embodiment in the actual world. The immanent Logos, the third stage of the Logos, is conceived by Philo as something immaterial, an extension of the pre-eaisting immaterial Logos; it resides in the world somewhat in the fashion of Plato's world soul. The administration of the immanent Logos

constitutes the eternal laws of nature, laws which are, however, subject to God himself, in the sense that He can at will intervene in nature to produce miraculous effects. The power of God to intervene in nature seldom operates against the laws of nature, but most often alongside nature. Miracles against nature, as in the reversal of the direction of the sun, are rare; most miracles consist in a speeding up of the temporal process ordinarily required to effect a "natural event. In his theory of knowledge Philo follows Plato's general

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outline but revises its content, kinds of knowledge:

^ike Plato he distinguishes three

sensation and opinion; intellectual knowledge

based upon sensation; and- intellectual knowledge not based upon the senses but having direct awareness of intelligible objects. With Plato the third type of knowledge had been the effect or product either of dialectic or reminiscence; with Philo tne third type of knowledge is the product or effect of prophecy. He distinguishes various kinds of prophecy, but each is characterized by the fact that the source of knowledge is the divine. The ideal

of knowledge is changed from intuition of supersensible essences to the vision of God which is approached through the conjunction of Script tare with philosophy.

The genius of the Philonic dialectic was appreciated and in large measure adapted by his successors, Christian, Jewish, and Moslem. One of the earliest Christian thinkers to follow in '

Philo's footsteps was the Alexandrian, Titus Flavius Clemens, of whom little is knom beyond the fact that toward the end of the second century he was head of the catechetical school at Alexandria. The date of his birth is unknown, and it is uncertain Before his conversion

whether the place was Athens or Alexandria. he was a philosopher.

His writings abound with erudition and

learned quotation, and must have been written while he had access to the libraries at Alexandria.11 He is familiar with Philo,

"^Biels, for example, has culled twenty three of the one hundred twenty six authentic fragments of Heraclitus fro* Clement.

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whom he quotes sometimes -s a commentator on Scripture^ and' sometimes as a Pythagorean philosopher.^^ His chief works,

The Exhort-.tlon to the Greeks , the Faedagogus , and the Stromata, have as their central theme the logos, interpreted as the Son of God. The Logos is represented, in the first work, as "drawing

men from the superstittons and corruptions of heathenism t . o faith; in the second, as training them by precepts and disciplines; and in the last, as conducting them to that higher knowledge of the things of God, to which those only who devote themselves assiduously to spiritual, moral, and intellectual culture can attain.
Clement, like Philo, believes that God cannot be known in His own nature except through revelation and the Logos, although there has always been a natural manifestation of God in his universe. It is difficult even to discuss God, "For how can that

be expressed which is neither genus, nor difference, nor species, nor individual, nor number; nay more, is neither an event, nor that to which an event happens?"J5 He cannot be expressed wholly for 3e is the All; he cannot be spoken of partially for He is indivisible. He is without form or name. Nor can He be apprehended

Strom., I, V, Wilson tr.

13strom., I, xv, Wilson tr.

^William Wilson, tr., The Writings of Clement of Alexandria, I, 13. In Ante-Nlcene Christian Library, ed. ..lexander Boberts and James DonaJton (Edinburgh, 1884), IV. ^ s t r o m ., V, xii, Wilson tr.

6k

by scientific demonstration, for demonstration "depends on primary and better known principles. the Unbegotten. But there is nothing antecedent to

It remains, then, that we understand the Unknown

by divine.grace,and by the word alone that proceeds from Him;..."-^5 God, then, being not a subject for demonstakion, cannot be the object of science. But the Son is wisdom, and knowledge, and truth, and ^11 else that has affinity thereto. He is also susceptible of demonstration and of description. And all the powers of the Spirit, becoming collectively one thing, terminate in the same point -that is, in the Son. But He is Incapable of being declared, in respect of the idea of each one of His powers. And the Son is neither simply one thing as one thing,nor many things as parts, but one thing as all things; whence also He is all things. For He is the circle of all powers rolled and united into erne unity. Wherefore the Word is called the Alpha and the Omega, of whom alone the end becomes beginning, and ends again at the original beginning without any break.^7 Thus Clement personifies Philo's Logos and talks of the powers and attributes of a divine Person, rather than of ideas, divine mind, power, and immaterial or immanent Logos. Like Philo he places the first principles of wisdom entirely in the realm of faith and argues the insufficiency of human reason to discover them apart from revelation and the Logos. But Clement seems to rank philosophy higher than Philo does, representing it more as the companion of faith than its handmaid, and he insists that philosophy and faith complement one another: Now Aristotle says that the Judgment which follows knowledge is in truth faith. Accordingly, faith is something superior to knowledge, and is its criterion, Conjecture, which is only a feeble supposition, counter feits faith.... Knowledge, accordingly, is characterized by faith; and faith, by a kind of divine mutual and

^ S t r o m . , V, xii, Wilson tr.

17-tro-, IV, xxv, Wilson tr.

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reciprocal correspondence, become.- characterized by knowledge . In represent i n i ' philosophy . s the companion of faith, Clement set himself against the tendency in the early Church, represented by Tertulii.n. vnich would do av.y with all commerce with Greek thought . s something inherently corrupt. faith tind knowledge: But as we say that a man can be a believer without learning, so also we assert that it is impossible for a man without learning to comprehend the things which are declared in the faith. But to adopt what is well said, and not to adopt the reverse, is caused not simply by faith, but by faith combined with knowledge.^ The knowledge that Clement would combine with faith is to be found by the practice of the Platonic dialectic: Dialectics, according to Plato, is, as he says in the Statesman, a science devoted to the discovery of the explanation of t h i n g s .JythlchJ by examining things, and testing forces and powers, gradually ascends 'in relation to the most excellent essence of all, and essays to go beyond to the God of the universe, professing not the knowledge of mortal affairs, but the science of things divine and heavenly; in accordance with which follows a .suitable course of practice with respect to words and deeds, even in human affairs. Eighthly, therefore, the Scripture, in its desire to make us such dialecticians, exhorts us: Be ye skilful money-ehangers,"20 rejecting some things, but retaining what is good.21 Having thus offered a Scriptural exhortation to the practice of 1Q Strom.,II, iv, Wilson tr. ^Strom., I, vl, Wilson tr. 2( Vootnote, Wilson: "A saying not in Scripture; but by several of the ancient fathers attributed to Christ or an apostle." 21Strom., I, xxviii, Wilson tr. There is need for both

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dialectic, ae describes its true nature: ...this true dialectic is the science which analyses the objects of thought, and shows abstractly and by itself the individual substratum of existences, or the power of dividing things into genera, which descends to their most special properties, and presents each individual object to be contemplated simply sucn us it is. Wherefore it alone conducts to the true wisdom, which is the divine power which deals with the knowledge of entities as entities, which grasps what is perfect, and is freed from all passion; not without the Saviour, who withdraws, by the divine word, the gloom of ignorance arising from evil training, which had overspread the eye of the soul... . It is He who truly shows how we are to know ourselves .^2 Here the Word is described in terms reminiscent of the philosopher king of the Republic. Clement goes on to describe the true

interpreter of the divine teaching as a rigorously trained philosopher: The sense of the law is to be taken in three ways, either a s exhibiting a symbol, or laying down u precept for right conduct, or as uttering a prophecy. But I well know that it belongs to men ./of full age723 to distinguish and declare these things. For the whole Scripture is not in its meaning a single Myconos, as the proverbial expression has it; but those who hunt after the connection of the divine teaching, must approach it with the utmost perfection of the logical faculty.^ Thus Clement extends the Fhilonic conception of the relations of philosophy and Scripture by making them reciprocal: to Philos

insistence that philosophy needs Scripture, Clement adds that Scripture needs philosophy. It is often said that St. Thomas

"baptised" Aristotle; but Clement, long before him, had "baptised" philosophy itself, especially the dialectical science of Plato.
^ Strom. , I, xxvj.ii, Wilson tr.

23jnsertion, Wilson's.
2**Strom., I, xxviii, Wilson tr.

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C.

..ugustinian Plutonism.

Augustiniun Platonism, developed in various ways as one of the dominant forms of medieval thought, reviwd in the seventeenth century by the Cambridge Platonists in reaction against * mechanistic view of the universe, and alive today as a distinctive form of Christian philosophy, cjne into being with the thought of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, at the close of the fourth century AD. Augustine regarded philosophy as the love of He had

wisdom, by which he meant the knowledge of God and self.

little patience with philosophers who "spent their wits in seeking out the causes of things, the means of learning, and order of life."2^ Philosophy is not a synoptic knowledge of the liberal

arts, physics, and the prudence of successful living; it is, as he learned from Ciceros Hortensius, a thirsting "after the immortality of wisdom". Yet the heat of zeal which Cicero's book stirred

in Augustine (he was nineteen when he read it) was in one respect chilled, because "the name of Christ was not in it."2? For this Name, according to thy mercy, 0 Lord, this Name of my Saviour thy Son, had my tender heart even together with my mother's milk devoutly drunken in, and charily treasured up: so that what book soever was without that Name, though never so learned, politely and truly penned, did not altogether take my approbation.

2^De civ. Bel, VIII, 10.

26Conf. Ill, I f .

Everyman, I, 23k.

Loeb, I, 111. Loeb, I, 113. Loeb, I, 113 .

^?Conf. Ill, k.
28Conf. Ill, I f .

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The regret which young Augustine felt upon Cicero's failure to name Christ in the Hortenslus he ^ater expressed s . s the principle "that philosophy, i.e., the pursuit of wisdom, cannot be quite divorced from religion. Philo and Clement had regarded Scripture and Greek philosophy as distinct entities which had to be set in reciprocal correspondence in order to realize the potentialities of each. Augustine, however,

who defined philosophy as the pursuit of wisdom and eternal felicity, saw Christian and Greek thought as systems competing with one another for the allegiance of men's minds. In his opinion, Greek

thought, taken as a whole, was imperfect and misleading, because it rejected the guidance of Scripture and the LogoB. Religion generally

was a stumbling block for the Greeks, who rejected the wisdom of Christian revelation although they were hopelessly divided in their attitudes toward the Hellenistic religions, for they take part in the religious rites of their fellow-citizens,-but in their schools teach divergent and contrary opinions about the nature of their gods and of the chief good."3 Augustine sees the study of

Scripture and the study of philosophy as elements in a single discipline, organically related and together forming true philosophy. He will not concede to the Greeks sovereignty in the exercise of

vera religione, v, 8 . Augustine Earlier Writings , p. 230. 3ibid.

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rational thought and understanding since Intelligence 'and its exercise is open to Greek and Christian alike. Moreover, he

ins its that the Greek philosopher cannot arrive at wisdom while he lacks both Scripture and the guidance of the Living Word. The

Christian thinker should not depend upon the authority of Greek philosophy: ''Why," asks .ugustine. "when it comes to disputation,

are we so eager to mouth the name of Plato rather than to have the
truth in our hearts?"^

Yet Augustine's thought is enormously indebted to the Greeks, and is sometimes described as being no more than the Christian Scriptures interpreted by means of a Neoplatonic metaphysics. More

accurately the program of Augustine's thought has been described as the effort "to work out a system of Christian philosophy in which the articles of the Christian faith will be interpreted to the understanding with the aid of clues that PlatomiBm will sdpply."32 Augustine himself says: No one doubts that ve are impelled to learn by the twofold forces of authority and reason. I have determined henceforth never to depart from the authority of Christ, for I find none more valid. But as regards that which must be pursued with subtle reasoning, my disposition now is impatiently to long to apprehend the truth not only by faith but also with the understanding; and I am confident that meantime 31! ) vera relig. . iii, 5 . Augustine: Earlier Writings, p. 228.

32John H. S. Burleigh, ed. & tr., Augustine: Earlier Writings (Ladon, 1953), P- ! * .

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I Ehull find in the Platonisti; something that is not incompatible vith our sacred things.33 By the Platonists Augustine means Plato and the Neoplatonic interpreters of Plato -- Plotinus. Porphyry, Ammonius -- all of whose works h e ' rend in Latin translations. His preference for

the Platonists among Greek philosophers was based upon his opinion that they most nearfr approached Christian teaching both in He recalled that^Plato had placed the goal
a

doctrine and in method.

of all good in the attaining of

virtuous life, a goal possible Consequently, according

only to those who knew and followed God.

to Agustine, Plato affirms that to be a philosopher is to be a lover of God and to seek felicity is to be blessed in the enjoyment of God. Plato: Wherefore whatever philosophers they were that held this of the high and true God, that He was the world's Creator, the light of under standing, and the good of all action; that He is the beginning of nature, the truth of doctrine, and the happiness of life; whether they becalled Platonists (as fittest) or by the name of any other Beet.. .them we prefer before all others, and confess their propinquity with our belief . 3 * * So Augustine asserts his preference for the followers of

33contra Academ. . Ill, xix, 43. Quoted by Burleigh in Augustine: Earlier Writings, p. 14. In his Retract iones to the Contra Academic os Augustine says, "Moreover, I was displeased and not without reason -by the praise with which I extolled Plato and the Platonic or Academic philosophers far more than was fitting for irreligious men; for it is against their gross errors that Christian teaching must be especially defended." I.e. . Platonism and Christian teaching by similarities in doctrine appealed to the same sort of men, but the Platonists were often able to win men away from Christian teaching; thus of all irreligious men the Platonists were most effective.
3^De civ. Del, VIII, 9 . Everyman, I, 233-

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The attribution to Platonism of the beliefs that God is the Good, that the philosopher is a lover of God, .nd thit the philosopher

seeks beatitude by enjoyinr or possessing God indicates how completely Augustine foilcwr the Neoplatonic interpretation of Pldo. It shows aIs o that .nugustine was at one with the Hellenistic

philosophers in making beatitude or felicity the aim of philosophy. The basis of agreement and affinity between Augustine and the Neoplatonists is the belief that God is the ultimate principle and cause in each of the three great divisions of being: thought, and action. nature,

In asserting that God is "the light of tne

understanding," Augustine hints the doctrine of divine illumination which he eventually substituted for the Platonic theory of reminiscence. Augustine was particultrfcrstruck by the efficiency of the Neoplatonic concept of a ladder or hierarchy of being, for applied objectively to nature it leads the mind to the recognition of God as the uncreated Creator of all existence; applied subjectively to human thought, it leads to the perception of God as the unchangeable and all-excelling form. metaphysics is worth quoting: Wherefore these philosophers whom fame (we see) has worthily preferred before the rest, did well perceive that God was no bodily thing: and therefore passed further than all bodies in this investigation. They saw that no mutable thing was God, and therefore went further than all mutable spirits and souls to seek for Him. Again they saw that all forms of mutable things whereby they are what they are (of what nature soever they be) have their origin from none but Him that is true and unchangafcle. Consequently, neither the body of this universe, the figures, qualities, motions, and elements, nor the bodies in them all from heaven to His summary of Neoplatonic

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earth, either vegetative as trees, or sensitive also as beasts, or reasonable also as men, nor those that need no nutriment but subsist by themselves as the angels, can havo being but from Him who has only simple being. For in Him to be and to live are not different things: as if He might have being without life: nor are to live and to understand different things, as if He could have life without intellect: nor to understand and to be blessed, as if He- could have the one and not the other. But His life, understanding and beatitude are all His being. From this invariable and simple essence of His they understood Him to be the uncreated Creator of all existence.35 ThiB aseent from the sensible to the intelligible along a 6cale of increasingly incorporeal beings to the term in an uncreated Creator of all existence is the typical method of the Neoplatonic regressus, To Augustine the method could hardly have seemed otherthan a philosophical development of the thought expressed

by Paul in the observation that the invisible things of God are made clear through the visible things of His creation. The

references In his summary to "forms of mutable things" and to "vegetative," "sensitive," and "reasonable" souls betrays the influence of Aristotle's philosophy with the Neoplatonists. The concept of beings that subsist by themselves without need of nutriment, "the angels," is a Neoplatonic development of the lesser gods that in Plato's Timaeus assisted in the creation. Considering Augustine'a concern with knowledge, he was probably most Impressed with the Neoplatonic regressus when it was applied to the forms of thought, and his summary of their doctrine reveals

35Pe civ. Del, VIII, 6 . Everyman, I, 230- 31 .

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much of his own theory: ...they considered that all things ire either body, or life; that the life excels the body; that sensibility is but a species of the body; but understanding of the life: and therefore they preferred intellect before sense. Sensible things are those that are to be seen or touched. Intelligible things can only be understood by the mind. For there is no bodily sweetness, be it in the body as beauty, or in motion as a musical song, but the mind Judges thereof: which it could not do if there were not in it a form more excellent than either in that quantity of body, or that sound of voices and keeping of tones and times. let if it were not mutable one could not Judge better than another of these sensible species, nor one be wittier, cunninger, or more skilled than another, but he that began after should profit as much as he that learned before; and he that profited after should be unaltered from his ignorance before: but that which admits majority or minority is changeable doubtless. And therefore these learned men did well observe that the first form of things could not have existence in a mutable object. And therefore beholding degrees of diversity in the forms of souls and bodies, and that the separation of all form from them directly destroyed them, they inferred a necessity of some unchangeable and consequently an all-excelling form, which they held the beginning of all things, uncreated, all-creating, exceeding right. Thus what they knew of God He did manifest unto them by teaching them the gradual contemplation of His parts invisible by His works visible: as also , who created all things both vtetVk^A ayiA f Amrtnro 1 JO The life mentioned in this passage is not sensitive life, which is regarded as a quality of body, but intellectual life, the life of mind, which excels because it Judges. Its Judgment

consists in applying intelligible forms to sensations, and unless such forms existed in the mind, Judgment would not be. possible. Tet these forms, although iimiutable in themselves, are

36pe civ. Dei, VIII, 6 . Everyman, I, 231.

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not unchangeably present to mutable minds, for if they were there

could be neither difference of opinion nor gradual learning, inasmuch as each mind would have.a full and clear understanding of ill that was intelligible. Thus, in the Neoplatonic theory

. s Augustine understands it. both the immanent forms of body and the Intelligible forms of mind are mutable and subject to separation. Consequently, since separation of form' is destruction

for body and soul, unless there exists some form unchangeable in itself, uncreated, and endowed with creative force, things could have no beginning. This ultimate form is, of course, God.

Briefly, according to the Neoplatonic methodology which Augustine accepts in its broad outlines, knowledge begins with sensations that become intelligible in Judgments made through mutable forms present in the mind; but the mutability of these forms suggests either that knowledge is impossible or that there exists an unchangeable form which is ultimate in the scale of being. Since Augustine can himself prove that knowledge is possible,

he concludes that the Neoplatonic inference of an ultimate all-excelling form is valid. It is clear that augustine was

willing to adopt philosophical theories he had learned frcm the Neoplatonists; but he went an to formulate theories of his own, among the most notable of them his proofs that it is possible to have certain knowledge. His demonstration of the possibility of knowledge was directed against the Sceptics. From his nineteenth year when he had first

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read Cicero's exhortation to philosophy, he was of the opinion that philosophical knowledge was both desirable find possible, although he admitted it was rare, causes: he attributed its rarity to various

the turmoils of life; languor, sloth or dullness of mind;

despair of discovery; or "to an error that is common to all peoples, namely a false assurmce of having already found the truth. "37 Turmoils of life or sluggishness of mind effectively prevent men from turning to the study of philosophy, but to thoBe actually engaged in philosophy scepticism and dogmatism are the most insidious impediments to progress, because they create a doubt of the possibility or the need of finding truth. "Therefore," he

says, "at the beginning of my conversion /when he was thirty-three years old/ I wrote three books so tht these things which blocked my way at the threshold., might not prove an obstacle to me."3 These are the three books contained in the work entitled Contra Academicos. As the title of the work suggests, it presents a sustained argument against the scepticism of Academics like Carneades and Arcesflnais. But it also warns, in passing, against dogmatism, and presents a criterion for judging whether one's supposed knowledge is knowledge: Beware lest you think that you know anything except what you have learned at least in the manner in which you 37contra Academ., II, 1, 1. 38Bnchirldion. xx, 7. Writings of St. Augustine, I, 131 * .

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know that one plus two plus three plus four is ten.39 And ne adds immediately: . .nd, likewise, beware lest you think either that in philosophy you will not gain a thorough knowledge of the truth, or that truth can be no means become known in this manner. Against dogmatism he offers a criterion of knowledge; against scepticism he offers the assurance that truth can be known. The

criterion of knowledge is any given truth /verum7 , in this instance a mathematical truth. A given truth can be a criterion of knowledge As an example

because it is both a truth and an example of truth.

of truth, we can compare with it what we learn to see if our new knowledge is known in the manner in which an indisputable truth is known. something. If it is, we can consider that we have truly learned This doctrine is similar to Descartes' assertion that

whatever one knows as clearly and distinctly as one's own existence, is true, and similar also to some of Spinoza's assertions in the Improvement of the Understanding. When oigustine wrote the Contra Academic os. he had not yet worked out his argument that an analysis of the implications of consciousness gives us certain knowledge that we exist. In this

argument against the Sceptics he is content to show that we have knowledge of incontrovertible truths in mathematics, dialectics, ethics, and esthetics. His intention is to show that it is probable

that man can attain truth (veritatem) because he does in fact know

39cpptra Academ. . II, 3> 9* * QContra Academ.. II, 3, 9.

Writings of St. Augustine. I, ll2-*3. Writings of ut Augustine. I, 1^3.

77

some truths (ver .).

He does not attempt to contradict the Sceptics It

by asserting that the wise man possesses the totality of truth.

is enough to contradict Carneades' assertion that it is prob :ble that a vise man cannot know truth (veritatem) because he doer not know any trutns'( vera). . The Sceptics had defined their own position by arguing against Zeno the Stoic s belief that a sense datum can be known and under stood if its truth can be recognized by marks which the false cannot have. Their principal argument had been that the impressions of

the senses are indistinguishable, because none is characterized by marks that would guarantee its truth. Most generally, they sought

to establish their conviction that truth cannot be found by pointing to the dissensions of philosophers, to the illusions of the senses, and to the confusions introduced by dreams, deliriums, and sophistries. Accepting Zeno's conviction that

nothing is more disgraceful than to form opinions, they concluded "that if nothing can be known and if opinion is most disgraceful, then a vise man ought never to accept anything as certain."1 * 1 Against the argument thet philosophers have found no truths in matters pertaining to philosophy and that all remains in dissension, Augustine argues that in matters of cosmology he knows for certain that "either there is only one world or there are more worlds than one;" "that if there are more worlds than one, their number is either finite or infinite." If the ..cademic objects

^"Contra Academ.. II, 5, 11.

Writlngs of _ut. .ugustlne, I, lh6 .

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that his notion is hanging in suspense, Augustine replies ,"Very well: better hanging in suspense than falling to the ground. Wnile

it is hanging, it is at least in plain view, and it cua be pronounced either true or false. Because I know that it is either He concludes:

true or false, I say that I know it as a proposition."

How. since you do not deny that these matters pertain to philosophy, and since you nevertheles.s maintain that nothing can be known about them, I ask you to show that I do not know them. In other words, say either that these disjunctives are false or that they have something in common with falsity -- some characteristic which renders them absolutely indistinguishable from something that is false.^ To the argument that the senses are deceptive, Augustine replies that "reasons will never be able to refute the testimony of the senses to such an extent as to convince us that nothing is perceived by us."1 ^ Later he says,

And yet, when he Jcicerojf said that a man cannot know anything, he would have no way of refuting an objector if only this retort were made to him, namely: "I know that it seems so to me ."^4 Although these arguments show that we can have certain knowledge of some of the operations of our own minds, they do not show that we have true knowledge of things outside our minds. truths of which Augustine is certain are psychological or dialectical, not ontological. The argument for psychological certainty receives its neatest The

^Contra Academ., ^3contra Academ. . ^ Contra Academ. ,

III, 10, 23. Ill, 11, 2k.

Writings of St. August ine, 1 . 195Writings of St. August ine, I. 195-

III, 16 , 36 . Writings of St. August ine, I. 212.

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formulation in the famous observation in the City of God: si enim fallor. sum: 1 know without any fantastical imagination that I am myself, that this I know and love. 1 fear not the academic arguments on these truths, that say: "What if you err?" If I err, I am. For he that has no being cannot err, and therefore mine error proves my being. Which-being so, how can I err in believing my being? For though I be one tnat may err, yet doubtless in that
_ _ r Qn(j conS 0 qUen-tiy if j know

that, I know my being Again, elsewhere, he argues: Who ever doubts that he himself lives, and remembers, and understands, and wills, and thinks, and knows, and judges? Since, even if he doubts, he lives; if he doubts, he remembers why he doubts; if he doubts, he understands that he doubts; if he doubts, he wishes to be certain; if he doubts, he thinks; if he doubts, he knows that he does not know; if he doubts, he Judges that he ought not to assent rashly. Whosoever, therefore, doubts about anything else ought not to doubt of all these things, which, if they were not, he would not be able to doubt anything.^ Once more, in De vera religions, he says: Everyone who knows that he has doubts knows with certainty something that is true, namely, that he doubts. He is certain, therefore, about a truth. Therefore everyone who doubts whether there be such a thing as the truth has at least a truth to set a limit to his doubt; and nothing can be true except truth be in it. Accordingly, no one ought to have doubts about the existence of the truth, even if doubts arise for him from every possible quarter.... Reasoning does not create truth but discovers it. Before it is discovered it abides in itself; and when it is discovered it renews us.^7 Even the Sceptics, thinks Augustine, do not disdain all truth, for like all other philosophical sects they believe that their wise **9Pe civ. Dei, II, 26. Everyman, I, 335 . Cf. J. P. Migne, Patrologia Lat Lna,

^ D e Trinitate, X, x, lk. Vol. k2, S0E *7pe vera religions, xxix.

Augustine: Earlier Writings, pp. 262 -63 .

80

nan can escape error by withholding assent.

The Sceptics had maintained

that since one cannot accept as true anythin that presents itself to the mind or to the senses, and since to err is shameful, the wise man will not give his assent to anything, most especially in practical affairs where the truth is either completely hidden or indistinguishabiy confused. But then, it is inevitably asked, on what basis will the To this the Sceptics reply, "that in all their actions

Sceptic act?

they follow nothing but the probable."1 *^ By assenting to things as probable the Scqrtic provides his actions with a basis and at the some time avoids error by not assenting to things as true, ugustine replies by observing that to approve an action as probable involves a belief that it is truth-like, a term which Carneades himself often used to describe the actions he was willing to perform. 'But," asks Augustine, "how could a wise man approve the truth-like, or how could he follow it, as long as he did not know what truth itself was?"^9 Moreover, even the complete withholding of assent

would not necessarily prevent the wise man from being involved in error, for "a man is in error, not only when he is following the wrong path, but also when he is not following the right one."5^ Consequently, since some truths can be known, and since assent to what is probable presupposes truth, it is probable that a wise man can come to know truth. Like the Platonists Augustine is more concerned to discern

i v ^Contra Academ., III, 16, 36. ^Contra Academ.. Ill, 18, ^Contra Academ., III, 15, 1 * 0 .

Writings of St. Augustine, I, 211. Writings of St. Augustine, I, 216-217. Writings of St. Augustine. I, 207.

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the truths of the' intelligible world than the truth about the world that is manifest to sense and to touch. Aside from the beauty of

the visible world, there wus little in it to serve Augustine's ultimate quest, which was for wisdom, because immutable truth does not exist in mortal things. "Whut then do you wish to know?" "I desire -to know

asked Reason of Augustine in the Sollloqute. God and the soul." "Nothing more?"

"Nothing whatever." 5 * - Thus

Augustine is more concerned with the theory of learning than with the theory of perception; his attention to the fact of sensible perception is diminished further by the conviction that error exists in rational judgment, not in sensation. In his opinion the senses

in a healthy man are competent to report truly all that comes within their province. And, whatever the eyes can see, they see that which is true. Therefore, as to what they see with regard to an oar in the water...is absolutely true. In fact, since there is a special reason for the oar's appearing that way, I should rather accuse my eyes of deception if it appeared to be straight when it is dipped in the water, for, in that case, they would not be seeing what ought to be seen.52 lthough the senses give true reports, their deliverances do not constitute knowledge; knowledge is to be sought in reason and intelligence. Like Plato, Augustine believes that the possibility of true knowledge (scientia) ultimately depends upon the existence of

5-Soliloquies, I, ii.

Augustine: Earlier Writings, pp. 26-27. Writings of St. August ine. I, 196.

^ Contra academ. , III, 11, 26.

immutable objects perceptible by the mind and-yet not dependent upon the mind, but he demurs at Pl.to's doctrine of reminiscence which nrikes the possibility of le..rning dependent upon the soul1 pre-existence, in the Retr ictions to the Soliloquies he says:

again (in Bk. II, xx, 35) I said that those who are educated in the liberal arts doubtless. in learning them, draw them out from the oblivion which has over whelmed them, or dig them out, as it were. I do not approve of this. When even untrained persons, suitably questioned, are able to return correct answers about some of the arts, a more credible reason is that they have according to their natural capacity the presence of the light of eternal reason. Hence they catch a glimpse of immutable truth. The reason is not that they cnee knew it and have forgotten, as Plato and others like him have thought.55 To glimpse immutable truth through the light of eternal reason describes the method and spirit of Augustine's quest for wisdom. How much truth a man sees depends entirely upon the extent to which the divine light shines within his mind. The natural

object of human intelligence is immutable truth, or, atleast, some immutable and objective truths, but although the eye of the mind has the power of seeing and its objects are always present, . still the intellect cannot see unless its objects are illumined by the light shining from the divine mind. The mind has. as it were, eyes of its own, analogous to the soul's senses. The certain truths of the sciences are analogous to the objects which the sun's rays make visible, such as the earth and earthly things. And it is God himself who Illumines all. I, Reason, am in minds as the power of looking is in the eyes. 53Augustine: Earlier Writings, p. 18.

83

Having eye:; is not the s t i n e thing as looking, and looking is not the same as seeing. The soul therefore needs three things: eyes which it can use arignt. looking and seeing.-^ i 'or august ine knowledge depend:: entirely upon seeing: no one

can be said to know corporeal objects unless he has seen them, and no one can know universals unless he has seen them with the eye of his mind. Consequently, it is impossible for one man to teach

another man anything, for all teaching must be done by words; the utmost value of words is to "Bid us look for things, but they do not show them to us so that we may know them."55 Man is not left

without guidance, however, for "One is your teacher, even Christ ( Matt. 23:10), as Augustine explains.56 Further:

Concerning universals of wHch we can have knowledge, we do not listen to anyone speaking and maiftng sounds outside ourselves. We listen to Truth which presides overour minds within us, though of course we may be bidden to listen by someone using words. Our real Teacher is he who is so listened to, who is said to dwell in the inner man, namely Christ, that is, the unchangeable power and eternal wisdom of God. To this wisdom every rational soul gives heed, but to each is given only so much as he is able to receive, according to his cwn good or evil will. If anyone is ever deceived it is not the fault of Truth, any more than it is the fault of the common light of day that the bodily eyes are often deceived. Confessedly we must pay heed to the light that it may let us discern visible things so far as we are able.57 < * Thus the doctrine of reminiscence gives way to the doctrine of the Inward teacher. Nothing is more distinctive in Augustinian

5^Soliloguia, I, vi, 12.

Augustine: Earlier Writings, p. 30*

-^De Maglstro, X I , 36 . Augustine: Earlier Writings , p . 9^ ^ ^Retractations I, xii. 57pe Maglstro, XI, 38 . August ine: Earlier Writings, p. 95 .

Plutonism than this introduction of the name and person of Christ into the very center of the .juest for knowledge. after Augustine the doctrine of reminiscence sank into disuse .nd v . s replaced either by Augustinian theory of the living Word or of the light cf reason or natural light. Augustine felt when he
was by

the theory

The ^uck which

first urged to philosophy by Cicero's

Hortens jus had been fully repaired.

St. Augustine was a prolific writer, whose writings were widely read even in his lifetime and won for him such a reputation for understanding and holiness that he felt compelled to set the record straight by his Confessions. During the Middle Ages his authority came to rival that of all tne other Fathers, so that in the eleventh century we find St. Anselm^S assuring himself that there was nothing in his Monologium "inconsistent with the writings of the Catholic Fathers, or especially with those of St. Augustine."59 St. Anselm indeed had made the

teachings of the Bishop of Hippo so much a part of his own thought

.^Anselm was born at Aorta in IO33 AD; when he was only twenty-seven he succeeded Lanfranc as Abbot of Bee; in 1093 he again succeeded Lanfranc, this time as Archbishop of Canterbury; he died in 1109. His principal writings the Monolog ium, the Pros log ium, and the Cur Deus Homo -- are notable as efforts to demonstrate the reasonableness of the Christian faith and to work out a systematic theology. 59Monologian, Prologue. O p . 0m., I, 8. Open Court ed., p. 36 .

65

that he i:~ sometime;* c .lied the second

uguetine; he w-s certa.n.y

the most' distinguished August inian Fiutonist in the pre-scho^--.st _c period of the Middle Ages. One of the effects of Anselm's work w ; s to make the distinction between ugustinion and Neoplatonic Pxatonism more explicit, . t e

did this by making the presuppositions of Augustine's thought --

belief in the truth of Scriptures and in Christ as true creator and teacher -- the explicit foundations of his own thought: toe

Scriptures, he says, "rest on solid truth as on a firm foundat i cc.. .. and whatever is built on this foundation is founded on an immovable rock."60 Thus the perfection of reason is to comprehend the In a

truth made available to it through faith in Scripture.

celebrated passaged in the Proslog!urn St. Anselm describes the relation of belief and understanding: I long to understand in some degree thy truth, which my heart believes and loves. For I do not seek to understand that I may believe, but I believe in order to understand. For this also I believe, -- that unless I believed, I should not understand.6 l From a more positive statement in the Cur Deus Homor we gather also that St. Anselm accounted it a neglect in the believer not to try to understand what he believed: As the right order requires us to believe the deep things of Christian faith before we undertake to Cur Deus Homo, II . Op. Om., II, . Open Court ed.,. p. Q5 .

1 9

13 1

^IproBlogical, I . Op. Qm., 1 , 100.

Open Court ed., p . 7.

86

discuss them by reason; so to my- mind it appears a neglect if, after we are established in the faitn, we do not seek to understand what we b e l i e v e . 8 2
H.ving conceived Augustinian philosophy as an effort of faitn to seek

understanding,. Anselm seems to have formulated the questions he

proposed

to consider somewhat in the following fashion:

lince

Scripture is the word of God who is eminently reasonable, how can we demonstrate the reasonableness of our faith? Since Scripture

teaches us something of the existence and nature of God, how can we demonstrate his existence and describe his attributes? Since

the Incarnation of God is an historical fact according to Scripture,

can we show how such an event was possible and why it
wj. s

necessary?

It is easy to see how far Anselm has moved from the position of . a Neoplatanist like Porphyry who is said to have argued against the possibility of a divine, scriptural revelation, and from the position of Plato, who accepted some of the Greek myths for the Suggestiveness of their content, without attributing to them more authority than was demanded by reverence for antiquity. It is sometimes supposed that Anselm's intellectuallsm was inspired by doubt and that "the extreme ardor which impels him

to search everywhere for arguments favorable to the doga, is a confession on his part that the dogma needs support, that it is debatable, that it lacks self-evidence, the criterion of truth.^3 Whatever Anselm's private feelings may have been, the philosophy

6gCur Deus Hcno. I, l.

Op. Cm. , II, * + 8 .

Open Court ed., p. 179.

^Sidney Norton Deane, tr., St. Anselm, Selected Works (Open Court), p. v., paraphrasing Weber, HiBtory of Philosophy (Hew York, n.d.).

87

he published aims to be a cogent body of rational tnougr.t , guided by faith, but not dependent upon its authority. He wants to discover

tne truths of Ocripture without appeal to the authority if scripture in order that "whatever the conclusion of independent investigation should declare to be true, should, in an unadorned sty-e, with common proofs and with a simple argument, be briefly enforced by the agency of reason, and plainly expounded in the lignt of truth."8 ^ Yet it is clear from the texts that Anselms rationalism is every where guided, at least indirectly, by the truths of faith. In

allowing his reason to be guided by dogma, Anselm creates the impression that reason needs support and guidance more than faith does precisely because reason lacks the criterion of truth which Since Anselm everywhere Insists upon

faith in Scripture provides.

the unshakeable truth of Scripture, to suppose that he reasoned in order to believe would compel us to believe that he consistently misrepresented his true thought without so much as gracing his misrepresentations with a touch of irony. It would appear more

plausible to see in .nselm's distinction'between faith and reason interpreting faith a deliberate effort to establish alongside the general Christian wisdom a Christian philosophy which is at once thoroughly Christian and cogently ratinal. In Anselm's mind the

concept of a Christian philosophy involved no contradiction, and he produced examples of what he thought it might be.

8^Monologion, Prologus. O p . Cm., I, 7-

Open Cotart ed., p. 35.

88

The fame of It. Anselm in .the history of philosophy rests, of course, upon n.H discovery and formulation of the ontologicax argument. Tr.e argument is found in the Proslogium preceded by a

st-.tement of toe purpose which led to its formulation:

.-.fter I had published, at the solicitous entreaties of certain brethren, a brief work {the Monologlum) as ui example of meditation on the grounds of faith, in the person of one who investigates, in a course of silent reasoning with himself, matters of which he is ignorant; considering that this book wxs knit together by the linking of many arguments, I began to Q6k myself whether there might be found a single argument which would require no other for its proof than itself alone; and alone would suffice to demonstrate that God truly exists, and that there is a supreme good requiring nothing else, which all other things require for their existence and well-being; and whatever we believe regarding the divine Being.^5 The scope of Anselm's intention is breathtaking: in a single

self-sufficlent argument to find a basis for demonstrating and explaining the being, supremacy, and nature of God. Two things must be distinguished in the Prosloglum: the demonstration of the existence of God by means of the ontological argument, and the systematic theology worked out by means of the idea of God premised in the ontological argument. Let us consider

first the method by which Anselm attempts to derive the nature and attributes of God from the idea of a being than which nothing greater can be conceived. exists, Anselm asks: But vhat art thou, except that which, as the highest of all beings, alone exists through itself, and creates all
Op. Om., I, 93 .

Having established that this being

^^Proslogiop, Prooemium.

Open Court ed., p. 1,

69

other tnings from nothing? For, whatever Is not this Is Lees than u thing which can be conceived of. But this cannot be conceived of thee. ^ From the idea of a being than which nothing greater can be conceived,. it. nselm . ' . a s deduced that this being is the nigaest. What we

notice here first of all is that , nselm identifier a being thun which notning greater can be conceived (aliquid ^uo nihil maius cogitari possitJ with the highest of all beings alone existing through itself (summum omnium solum exlstens per seipsum). Then he infers that the being which alone exists through itself must be the creator who creates all other things from nothing. Having

thus shown that God is the creator, he is in a position to prove "whatever we believe of the divine Being." But all the inferences

of the Proslogium depend upon the validity of the identification of a being than which nothing greater can be conceived with the highest being of all beings alone existing through itself. Is this

identification "enforced by the cogency of reason" which Anselm himself demands of his arguments, or is it an invalid dialectical leap? One objection which can be brought against Anselm'siargument is this: although a being than which no greater can be conceived

cannot possibly be excelled, it can perhaps be equalled by one o r more beings possessing the same nature. But if it is equalled,

it is not the highest of all beings and does not alone exist through
^ P r os log ion, V. Op. Om., I, 1C&. Open Court ed., p. 10.

90

itself, for tsere will be perhaps u multitude of beings than which nothing greater can be conceived, all of which will exist through theraaelver;. rut if each of these beings exists tnrcugh itself,

none of tnea ir a creator of all other beings , for none of them is the creator of the f c t a e r beings which exist through themselves.

Thus the validity of the ontological argument depends upon the uniqueness of tnat being than which nothing greater can be conceived. let as the argument is stated in the Proslogium, it

is not at first easy to see why that being cannot be equalled by other beings of the same nature. There is no doubt that

Anselm was convinced of the cogency and validity of his argument, but the problem for the reader is to discover precisely why a being than itdii nothing greater can be conceived cannot be equalled. As ve have already seen, Anselm was led to look for the single argument of the Proslogium through a certain dissatisfaction with his earlier work the Monologium, which was "knit together by many arguments." The arguments he refers to are the arguments for the

existence of ''one Nature which is the highest of all existing beings." These arguments, which are found in Chapters III to VI of the Monologim, sake up several systematic and extensive proofs for the existence of a highest of all beings which alone exists through itself and upon which all other beings depend. In Chapters VII

to XI of the Monologium he offers a demonstration that the highest being must sate produced all other beings by creation from nothing.

91

These seven chapters constitute the "m/aiy arguments" which in the Proslog;iua are reproduced in five lines.' bince Anselm urrived ut tne brief proof of the Proslogium by prolonged reflection upon the arguments o ' ' the MonologJ.un. it is necessary, if we would understand the background of the ontological argument, to reconsider the arguments of the earlier work, and in that reconsideration try to see why a being than which nothing greater can be conceived must be unique. At the beginning of the Monologium Anselm asserts that "if any man, either from ignorance or unbelief, has no knowledge of the ezistence of one Nature which is the highest of all existing beings... he can at least convince himself of these truths in great part, even if his mental powers are very ordinary, by the force of 67 reason alone." ' He presents three arguments for the existence of a supreme Nature: one based on goodness; another on existence;

and the third on the degrees of dignity existing in nature. In the argument from goodness be begins by announcing the general principle that whatever possesses any attribute which may be possessed in greater, less, or equal degree, possesses it in virtue of some fact which is always the same in different cases. "For, whatsoever things are said to be Just, when compared

with one another, whether equally, or more, or less, cannot be understood a just, except through the quality of justness, which is not one thing in one instance, and another in another."6 That

TMonologion, I.

Op. Om., I, 13.

Open Court ed., pp. 37-36 .

Ibid. , Op. ten, I, lU.

Open Court ed., p. 39.

92

is, t h e r e itself,

is one

.uality,

J u s tnes s,

complete and ure

unchanging

in Just he

througn

wr.icn
Ju..t.

nil things

which

in v a r y in f . '

decrees

; re

sa id to be

bo with things

taut

are

good. utility

..t f i r s t or

ays t hi n g s no nor . but

.re g o o d e i t h e r he adds:

ip virtue, of t n e ir

:f t n e i r

/the] useful or honorable, if they are truly good, are

good through that same being through w h i c h ui. exist, wh-.-tever that being is. But who can doubt this very being, through which all goods exist, to be a rreut good? Ibis must be, then, a good through itself, since every other good is through it.... Hence, this u*one is supremely good, which is alone good through itself, lor it is supreme, in that it so surpasses other beings, that it is neither equalled nor excelled. with things that are Just, so with things that are good: things are truly good are good through some one being. beingthrough which all others are good must whatever

But this one

itself,whatever it is, is good through itself,

be goodthrough itself, and because it alone

it is supremely good, for it excels all other goods not, as we might expect, because they are dependent upon it, but simply because they neither equal nor surpass it. We begin to see the pattern which Anselm's thought follows: in any given category, such as justness or goodness, there is only one object which possesses the quality of that category through itself, and because it possesses that quality through itself it is supremely perfect in that category. In the argument that .-nselm

advanced in his first proof for the existence of a highest being, we can distinguish both a Neoplatonic and a Platonic element. There

^^Monologicaa, I., Op. vto., I, 11*-15-

Open Court ed., p. 1 * 0 .

93

is n tr .ce of IieoplatonLc regressus which

nceira would have learned

from .t. Augustine, in the movement from things that are good.
ujtw

.rd to utility and honor, and on finally to that which is good There is a reminiscence.of the-Platonic ideas in

through itself.

the conception that in any species there is only one instance of the complete and unchanging embodiment of that species. But there is

already the suggestion that Anselm's Platonism is thoroughly Christian, for it is clear that he does not regard goodness and Justness as individual ideas existing in an objective world of ideas, but intends to gather them together in one being, "a being that is greatest and best, i.e., the highest of all existing beings. Seeking another proof for the existence of a highest being in the fact of the existence of things, Anselm observes that nothing exists through nothing, and that whatever exists, exists either through itself or through something else. The something If many,

else through which all else exists must be one or many.

then these many beings themselves exist either through some one being or each one separately. If these many beings, through

which all else exists themselves exist through one being, then everything exists through this one. If the many exist separately,

each through itself, there is one power (the power of existing through self) by which each is able to exist through itself. But

in that case the many exist through a power which is one, so that 7^0110 logicn. II, Op. Om., I, 15.

Open Court ed., p. Ul.

9b

everything exi.sts through one power which alone exists through itself. ' ' B u t whatever exists through another is less than that, through which all things are, .nd which alone exists through itself. Therefore

that which exists tlirough itself exists in the greatest degree of all things.''fl
Here again ve see Anselm's conviction that in any given category in this case, the category of existence there is only one being,

entity or power which possesses the nature or being of that category through itself; moreover, that one thing which does possess the nature or being of that category through itself is greatest In that category. In Anselm's system to be anything

through self is to be supremely and uniquely perfect in kind. In a final argument for the existence of a highest nature (Anselm uses the terms nature, substance, and essence inter changeably) the fact of hierarchical degrees of dignity in the nature of things is used in a typically Neoplatonic fashion. Since

Anselm is of the opinion that no man who deserves the name of man will deny the fact of hierarchical order, he finds it easy to mount from the existence of lover natures upwards through the scale of being to the existence of a nature "which is so superior to others that it is Inferior to none." Although the mode of

reasoning in this argument is Neoplatonic and follows almost exactly the representation of this argument in the works of St. Augustine (see above, pp. 71-7k), the Platonic idea that the fullness and

? 1Monologlon. Ill, O p . O n. . I, 16.

Open Court ed., p. h2.

95

completeness of a species is embodied in only one instance is the fundamental principle of the argument. In this case the category

is the dignity or perfection of natures and the application of the Platonic principle leads to a reflexive concept, the perfection of perfections In nature, which is embodied in a single being, nature, substance, or essence. The final step of the Monologlum is to combine the findings of the three separate arguments for the existence of a unique being or power at the summit of any species into an argument for the existence of an absolutely highest nature. So Anselm concludes:

There is, therefore, a certain Nature, or Substance, or Essence, which is through itself good and great, and through itself is what it is; and through vhich exists whatever is truly good, or great, or has any existence at all; and vhich is the supreme good being, the supreme great being, being or subsisting as supreme, that is, the highest of all existing beings. In the Monologlum, following the tradition of ancient and medieval philosophy, Anselm begins his reasoning with the fact of existence rather than from thought. He distinguishes the that is, he

being of existence from the perfection of existence:

makes a distinction on the one hand between a minimum that is necessary for existence itself or for existence within a given Species', and on the other what is necessary for the fullness or perfection of existence itself or in a species. With regard to

existence within a species he can distinguish many degrees of

T^Monologion, IV, Op. Om., I, 17-18. Open Court ed., p.

96

existence recognizably belonging to a given species, but he insists that the fullness or perfection of existence in a species is found only in one instance of that species. This concept of a being or

nature vhich embodies the perfection of a species is obviously parallel to Plato's concept of the ideas, each of vhich embodies the fullness of a species uniquely vhile all the members of a species are necessarily imperfect representations of the species. When existence itself is under consideration the same pattern remains, for Anselm can distinguish betveen the minimum being of existence and the perfection of existence, so as to rise to the thought of a unique being vhich embodies the perfection of being. It is equally clear, however, that Anselm regards being

as the foundation of all qualities like goodness, Justness, and dignity. Consequently, whatever being it is vhich exists uniquely Thus,

will be the unique source of all the qualifications of being. for Anselm, that being vhich alone exists through itself is identical with supreme excellence. And so Anselm can conclude

that the nature vhich is "through itself vhat it is," is "the highest of all beings." Turning now from the Monologium to Chapter II of the Prosloglum where the ontological argument is stated, we read first of all: And so, Lord, do thou, who dost give understanding to faith, give me, so far as thou knovest it to be profitable, to understand that thou art as ve believe.73 The important phrase here, of course, Is "thou art as ve believe."

^ Proslogion, II. O p . Om.. I, 101.

Open Court ed., p. 7-

97

Translated into philosophical terms it moans that God is or exists as he is conceived. conceives God: Then- Anselm states the manner in which he

"And, indeed, we believe that thou art a being We are returned

than which nothing greater can be conceived."7^

now to the difficulty which began this discussion of a part of the ontological argument: namely, whether Anselm's identification of

God with a being than which nothing greater can be conceived excludes the possibility of a number of gods all equal to one another because each is a being than which nothing greater can be conceived.
The resolution of this difficulty seems absurdly simple once we recollect the Platonic orientation which guided Anselm in each of the arguments of the Monologium: in any given species

or category there is only one power, being, substance, instance, nature, or essence which completely embodies the qualities of that species or category. By definition, therefore, there can be only We need

one being than which nothing greater can be conceived.

only remind ourselves of the Platonic ideas to see that any species has only one perfect embodiment. But when we consider the ideas

themselves ve find that only one idea, the idea of good, stands at the summit. For Plato that than which nothing greater can be

conceived is the idea of the Good vhich, according to the statement in the Republic (509 b) is the source of all existence and knowledge,

7l f ibid.

98

bo

that in some sense it embodies in itself both idea and existence.

So Anselm conceives of God. We can better understand now all the important implications which Anselm discovered in the concept of God as a being than which nothing greater can be conceived. This conception is

identical with supreme excellence; but supreme excellence, we learn in the Monologium, has been arrived at from the notion of existence through self, so thfc ve cannot think of supreme excellence without cotmaitting ourselves to the admission that the supreme excellence, whatever it is, exists through itself. Consequently,

if ve can form a concept of God as a being than which nothing greater can be conceived ve find that he exists as he Is conceived. But since our conception of God reveals that he alone exists through himself (otherwise he would not be supreme excellence), therefore all other beings exist through him. Since all things which do not

exist through tlmselves are different from the unique being which exists through itself, but are also distinct from nothing at all, it is proper to say that the process by which that vhich exists through itself brings dependent beings into being is the process of creation from nothing. Having thus demonstrated the existence

of God as creator who creates from nothing, Anselm can go on to demonstrate "whatever we believe of the divine Being." If this analysis of the relations of the Proslogium and Monologium is correct, it seems fair to say that the ontological argument

99

represents the ultimate refinement of a Platonic proof for the existence of God by a Christian Platonist of genius, drawing upon elements distintively Platonic, Neoplatonic and Augustinian. Whatever we may think of the force of the argument,.our acceptance or rejection of it will inevitably be bound up in part with our attitude toward Platonic method in general.

100

D.

Renaissance Platonism.

The Platonism of Augustine became a tradition of the medieval schools, dominating many schools in the earlier middle ages'and in the later years continuously resisting the encroachments of Aristotelian scholastics. Alongside this orthodox Augustinian

Platonism ran the more esoteric Neoplatonism of John Scotus Erigena, and of Meister Eckhart. These tvo streams of Platonism in the

middle ages divided on the question of how much knowledge ve can possess about God. The intellectualism of Augustine's approach,

developed most strikingly by St. Anselm, insists that although our knowledge of God is limited, and for the most part analogical, it is yet in part positive knowledge. Platonists like Erigena

declare that our knowledge of God is almost entirely negative, and it is they who have given us the celebrated via negativa as a method for studying the divine attributes. Alike in most things,

however, the tradition of Christian Platonism continued; Erigena's Be Divisions Naturae made the Neoplatanic concept of the outflow of things from God and their return to him a familiar medieval theory; Eckhart advanced the idea (later adopted by Nicolas of CuasJ that apparent contraries find their ultimate reconcillation in God.75

7^There is striking evidence of the continuity between medieval and renaissance Platonism, and for this reason a literal interpretation of the phrase as a new birth of Platonic philosophy is misleading. The thought of western Europe from the end of the fifteenth to the early seventeenth century certainly gained an eaormous impetus from the textual studies of the Florentina^Acadeay with its Greek editions, its Latin translations, its commentaries, and its interpretations of

101

In the transition from medieval to renaissance Platonism, the most interesting and original thinker was Nicolas of Cusa (lk01-lk6h). A curdinal of the Western Church, Nicolas was instrumental in the short-lived accord reached by the Western and Eastern Churches at the Council of Florence in 1^38 His practical efforts to secure

the works of Plato and Plotinus. Yet it would be wrong to suppose that the renaissance Platonists restored a dead philosophy. It is characteristic of Ficino, for Instance, to see himself as one continuing the long tradition of Latin Platonism, not as one restoring whut has long been forgotten. And the library of Nicolas of Cusa has given us our fullest catalogue of Platonic manuscripts, evidence that medieval Latin texts of these manuscripts were available to humanist thinkers and scholars. As Professor Klibansky has pointed out, "The fullest documentation, however, of the unbroken Platonic tradition exists in the case of the manuscripts of Nicholas of Cusa. In addition to the new humanist translations of Leonardo Bruni and Candldo Decembrio and. the mediaeval version of Henricus Aristippus (cod. cusan. 177 )> it has been possible to trace to his library the Timaeus (recently discovered in cod. harleian. 2 6 5 2 J, Macrobius on the Somnlum Sciplonis (in the same codex, fol. 3v -- 52v), Apuleius (cod. bruxell. IOO5 6 -7 U), Proclus' Elementatlo Theologica (cod. cusan. 195, fol. 3^v 6 6 v), Theologia Platonis (in two versions, in cod. argentorat. 81 a fragment written in Cusanus own hand, and in cod. cusan. 185 the complete text translated on his behalf by his friend Petrus Balbus), and no less than three copies of Proclus' commentary of the Parmenides (cod. cusan. 186; Vatican, lat. 307 I; a fragment in cod. argentorat. 81). Many marginal notes in the Cardinal's hand, of great interest for the development of his thought and sometimes verbally repeated in his works, are found in most of these books." (Baymond Klibansky, The Continuity of the Platonic Tradition During the Middle Ages: Outlines of a Corpus Platonicum Medil Aevi (Ledon. 1939), p. fe. Cf. also pp. 30 -3 1 ).
Further, the works of Cicero transmitted an enormous amount of Platonic materials; Seneca's 58 th 65 th letters specifically discuss the theory of ideas; Boethius' Consolations present a generally Platonic view with great dignify; Erigena's translation of Pseudo-Dionysius and his De Divleone Naturae present much of Proclus* Neoplatonism. The continuous existence of Platonic material through the middle ages, plus the appearance over the span of years of distinctively Platonic thinkers such as Erigena, Eckhart, and Nicolas of Cusa -- all of whom Ficino draws upon -- makes it impossible to suppose that the Platonism of the renaissance is other than a re-emphasis upon a continuing tradition of ideas. -

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the ecclesiastical unity of Christendom reflected his philosophical conviction that all the apparent contraries of the visible universe are reconciled in the ineffable unity of the Absolute Maximum which is God. His metaphysical position and the principle of his

philosophical method are presented in his principal work, Of . Learned Ignorance, published in ll*k0, two years after the Council of Florence. Nicolas developed his own philosophy within the general framework of Platonism. He quite deliberately aligns himself with Platonists of

all ages and traces his philosophical heritage from Pythagoras himself, citing Platonic mathematiciBm as the reason for his preference and attributing to all Platonists the common belief that truth is to be found in numbers. 76
He Ignores the Aristotelian scholastics,

preferring to cite the most profound Aristotle directly, sometimes in approval but as often as not in disapproval. with whom he completely disagrees is Epicurus.77 The one philosopher

7^cf. of Learned Ignorance by Nicolas Cusanus, tr. Fr. Germain Heron, int. D. J. B. Hawkins (New Haven, 1951 *), I, H , pp. 2 5 -2 7 .
7?The influence of Nicolas' philosophy upon renaissance Platonism has not yet been precisely determined. As Professors Kristeller and Randall observe, "Nicolas of Cusa may in a sense be called the first Western Flatonist of the Renaissance. But his influence during the Renaissance, especially during the early period, while suggested by similarities of thought, is very difficult to establish. (Ernst Cassirer, Paul Oskar Kristeller, John Herman Randall, Jr., eds., The Renaissance Philosophy of Man (Chicago, 19k8), p. 7*) Yet there is evidence that his work was known and in demand as late as a century after his death. "Four editions of his work appeared between the beginning of printing and the Basle volumes of 1 5 6 5 , the third being that prepared by the celebrated Lefevre of Etaples at Paris in 151h." (D. J. B. Hawkins, intr., Of Learned Ignorance. xxvi.) There is Indirect evidence that some of the early humanists had access to Nicolas' manuscripts; Professor Klibansky is of the opinion that after the death of Nicolas the hunanists used to visit the library he had founded in order to study his medieval Latin versions of Platonic and Neoplatanlc writings, so that it is conceivable that they studied his own writings at the same time. (Klibansky, p. 31). Nevertheless, the precise Influence of Nicolas' thought remains a desideratum in the study of renaissance philosophy.

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The clearest sign of Nicolas' affinity with the renaissance Platonists is his eagerness to study the ancient, Hellenistic, and Neoplatonic Platonists through translations of their ovm writings. Like Ficino after him, Nicolas tended to attribute a greater antiquity to some of tne Neopythagorean writings than they deserved; indeed, he regards these writings as the embodiment of primitive wisdom. For

him the chief of the ancient Platonists is Pythagoras, "the first of philosophers and the honour of Italy and Greece," who first held up for adoration the unity which is at once a trinity. It was his

opinion that the ancient philosophers had arrived at a true under standing of the divine nature as an ineffable unity transcending anything perceptible to ordinary human experience, while the simple folk, although they also believed in one infinite God, were led into error by regarding sensible manifestations of the deity as the truth itself. "The result of this was that the masses became

idolaters, whereas philosophers, for the most part, continued to have a correct idea of the unity of God, as can be attested by anyone who ha6 carefully read the ancient philosophers and Cicero's De Deorum Nature."? The phrase, "anyone who has carefully read the ancient

philosophers" refers, of course, to scholars with humanist interests in antiquity. The Platonic dialectic of opinion and knowledge, as it is developed by Nicolas, moves toward the probabilism and scepticism

?0f Learned Ignorance. I, 25; p. 53.

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which appeared in the late renaissance.

Nicolas's doctrine that-

human knowledge is at best a "learned ignorance" needs but slight changes to be reduced to probabilisra, although he offered it as a middle way between outright scepticism and unwarranted dogmatism. As a good Platonist, Nicolas accepts the distinction between opinion defied from the sensible world and knowledge derived from the intelligible world, but under the influence of Denis the Areopagite he identifies the intelligible world with God, the absolute unity in whoa there is no diversity; in consequence he is led to reject the theory of ideas or exemplars:
...there is one sole form of forms, one sole truth of truths and in the Maximum the truth of the circle is not different from that of the quadrangle. It is only therefore in their finite state that the forms of things are distinct; in the absolute they are not many and distinct but one; and that one is the Word of God. The Soul of the World, therefore, necessarily co-exists with matter from vhich it receives a limitation; it does not exist as a mind separated or separable from things. If we regard the mind as free of all potentiality, then we are thinking of the Divine mind, for it alone is pure act. A plurality of distinct exemplars is then absurd, for each would be to the objects modelled on it the infinitely true exemplar; but infinite truth can only be one. One infinite exemplar is all that is needed and one alone suffices.79 By rejecting the forms, Nicolas makes precise knowledge depend upon intuition of the divine nature, for he asserts that "apart from the Absolute image or the Exemplar itself in unity of nature, no image will so faithfully or precisely reproduce the exemplar, as to rule out the possibility of an infinity of more faithful and

79pf Learned Ignorance , II, 9; p. 101.

H . ' '

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precise images."^

If then anyone accepting Nicolas's doctrine

of learned ignorance -- the doctrine that apart from a knowledge of the Absolute, human knowledge is inherently imprecise and capable of infinitely greater precision -- should eject the possibility of intuiting the divine nature, he would have no escape from Carneadean probabilism. Nicolas extends the traditional Platonic

scepticism of sense and imagination to reason itself, leaving man with but one avenue to true knowledge -- intuition. Nicolas's fundamental insights are derived from traditional

theological doctrines such as the doctrine of the Trinity, of creation from nothing, and of the Incarnation, while in method he blends the intellectualism of St. Anselm with the negative way of Denis the Areopagite. Since Nicolas is more concerned to establish

the nature of God them his existence, he accepts Anselm's ontological argument as demonshative and at the same time identifies Anselm's idea of God with his own concept of God as the unique, absolute Maximum: "We speak of a thing being the greatest or maximum when

nothing greater than it can e x i s t . B u t his doctrine of the limitations of the human intellect in relation to the Maximum was defined for him by Denis: ^Denis the Areopagite, that most eager student of all things diving7 concludes, in his letter to Gaius, that God is known but that no mind or intelligence comprehends Him. In accord with this is the statement of Babbi Salomon that It Is the unanimous opinion of wise men 'that the Creator is not apprehended by the sciences bit He alone

9^0f Learned Ignorance. I, 11; p. 2 5 . Learned Ignorance. I, 2; p. 9-

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comprehends His own essence; by comparison, our apprehension has no means of approaching f i n under standing of Him'. Elsewhere, too, he writes: 'Praised be tne Creator! To comprehend His nature the sciences are inadequate, wisdom is ignorance and pretentious language meaningless.' Therein Lies that learned ignorance for whi'ch we are looking; by means of it alone, Denis strove in many ways to show that God could be found, starting from no other principle, I think, than the one 1 have mentioned.^ Among the many streams of Platonic thought in Nicolas's philosophy the principal one is the esoteric Christian Platonism deriving
from Pseudo-Dionysius.

Nicolas's method in metaphysics may be described as a form of mathematical analogy or transcendental geometry, and some of the features of his method are suggestive of seventeenth century rationalism. For example, it is axiomatic with Nicolas that all

explanation of ontological truth must begin from a principle which can really account for the quiddity of things. This principle must be God who, he says, "is the one infinitely simple, essential explanation of the entire universe;.. ,"3 Again, "we must set out

from the absolute unity which is God, *hat our starting point may be the principle of all things."^ Nicolas's attitude is very

similar to Spinoza's assertion in The Improvement of the Understanding that "we should inquire whether there be any being (and, if so, what being) that is the cause of all things, so that its essence,

82Of Learned Ignorance, I, 16; p. 35. 83of Learned Ignorance. I, 23J P. 52.
Q^Of Learned Ignorance. Ill, 1; . p. 130.

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represented in thought,m y be the cause of all our id'eur., and then our mind will to the utmost possible extent reflect nature. For it

will possess, objectively, nature's essence, order, and union. Nicolas's immediate problem was to discover how to learn enough about Cod to be able to use the knowledge of his nature as a principle of ontological explanation. Through a consideration of the form of human inquiry, Nicolas reached the conclusion that all human inquiry and all human judgement is analogical in method. ''In every enquiry men judge

of the uncertain by comparing it with an object presupposed certain, and their judgement is always approximative; every enquiry is, therefore, comparative and uses the method of analogy."^ But the

infinite, from vhich all ontological inquiry must begin, is unknown, far it is beyond all comparison and "between the Absolute and the finite there is no mean."&7 in order to arrive at the starting

point of ontological thought, one must through the use of symbols and analogy somehow find a proportion between the two incommensurables, the finite and the Infinite. Moreover, when anyone uses an image in

order to reach analogically something which is yet unknown, there must be no doubt about the image, for any uncertainty in what is presupposed as certain will vitiate the knowledge we gain about the

^Spinoza Selections, ed. John Wild (Chicago, 1930), p. 39.

86Of Learned Ignorance, I, 1; p. 7 .

87 Of Learned Ignorance. II, 9 ; P- 103-

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unknown.

Through what inages, then, and by what method of analogy

can the distance between finite and infinite be passed? Although knowledge derived through sense experience is full of uncertainties, since muterial conditions abound in change, still the more we abstract from sensible conditions the more certain and solid our knowledge is, and nowhere is knowledge more certain than in mathematics. Thus Nicolas concludes, "since

there is no other approach to a knowledge of things divine than that of symbols, we cannot do better than use mathematical signs on account of their indestructible certitude."^ The peculiar

value of mathematical symbols lies in their being at once finite and certain; if they were not finite, the finite mind could not comprehend them or use them as a basis of comparison; if they were not certain, any comparison based upon them would be faulty. The method of mathematical symbolism used by Nicolas requires three steps: (1) The study of mathematical figures as they are,

namely a mixture of patency and act; ( 2 ) the attribution of the respective perfections of the finite figures to the corresponding infinite figures; ( 3 ) finally, the attribution of the perfections of the infinite figures to the Simple Infinite, which cannot possibly be expressed by any figure. For example, the mind sees

that a finite line is potentially a triangle, circle or sphere; it is led then to conceive an infinite line which is actually and at

* 0 t Learned Ignorance, I, 11; p. 27 .

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once a triangle, a circle, and a sphere; then, by analogy, it concludes that the Absolute Maximum is the infinite actualization of all that is simply and absolutely possible and tnat in the M:jciaun, absolute possibility itself and infinite actual existence are perfectly identified. "Then, whilst we. are groping in the

dark, our ignorance will enlighten us in an incomprenensible fashion and enable us to form a more correct and truer notion of the A b s o l u t e . L i k e the Platonic dialectic, the force of Nicolas's method of analogy lies in its power to put us in a position to glimpse the intelligible. The form of Nicolas's exposition is patterned after Euclid. First, the conclusion of an article is set apart from the body of the proof as a proposition stated in general terms. Then the

relevant data are set out and limiting conditions made precise. Very often a figure is constructed. Finally, the proof is worked

out, leading to the desired conclusion, and the article is closed with the assertion "This is what had to be proved." In calling

Nicolas's geometry transcendental, I have in mind the sort of propositions he sets out to prove: for example, "Ihe Infinite

Line is a Triangle";90 Cr "The Infinite Triangle is a Circle and a

S p h e r e . "91

Whatever mathematicians may think of Nicolas's

metaphysical use of their subject matter, Nicolas himself would have 89pf Learned 90f Learned 93-Of Learned Ignorance.I, 12; p. 27. Ignorance.I, lU; p. 28. .Ignorance, I, 15; p. 29.

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approved of the radical postulates of the nineteenth century "non-Euclidean" geometers. /part from his interest in studying Plutonism as far us was possible from ancient, texts, Nicolas's humanism reveals itself in his concept thut perfect human nature, in the person of Christ., excels all other created natures, because, containing in itself ull the perfections variously found in corporeal or spiritual natures, it is itself the link between the Absolute and Contracted Maximum, between God and the universe. The humanistic tendency

of Nicolas's thought is also revealed in his deltht in being able to demonstrate, as he believes, that the earth is not at the center of the created universe. It is often forgotten that when the

ancients assigned to earth its place in the center of the universe, they were attributing to it a static, base and vile position dianitrically opposite to the perfect motions of the outermost sphere. Everything contained within the orbit of the moon was Through a combination of his principle of learned

imperfect.

ignorance with concepts derived from the Platonic sciences (arithmetic, geometry, harmony and astronomy) Nicolas observed that it was impossible to determine precisely the center of the universe, and, in consequence, it was impossible to assert that the earth was the center. He concludes that the earth is "a

stately and spherical figure," "a brilliant star having a light, heat and influence distinctively its own and different from those

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of all other stare.... "92

Man on his earth rivals wliatever

intellectual natures may'be found in other stars: ...even if inhabitants of another kind should exist in other stars, it seems inconceivable that, in the line of nature, anything more noble and perfect could be found than the intellectual nature that exists here on this earth and its region. The fact is that man ha3 no longing for any other nature but desires only to be perfect in his own.93

The claim of many that Nicolas was the greatest philosopher of the fifteenth century becomes more interesting if we glance at the world of humanistic thought in which he was working. The

humanism of the renaissance had been largely an educational and literary movement which adhered to a program of studies, the studia human!tatis, embracing Latin and Greek, rhetoric, poetry, grammar, history and moral philosophy. Its studies did not Petrarch, for instance,

ordinarily include theoretical philsophy.

who is often called the Father of Humanism, adopted the attitude of his preceptors Cicero and Seneca toward theoretical philosophy: The object of the will...is to be good; that of the intellect is truth. It is better to will the good than to know the truth. The first is never without merit; the latter can often be polluted with crime and then admits no excuse. Therefore, those are far wrong who consume their time in learning to know virtue instead of acquiring it, and, in a still higher degree, those whose time is spent in learning to know God instead of loving Him. 9 * * Behind Petrarch's preference for moral philosophy lies a strong 9^Of Learned Ignorance. II, 12; p. 113. 93ibid.. p. 115 . 9^Petrarca, On His Own Ignorance, tr. Hans Nachod, in The Renaissance Philosophy of Han, ed. Cassirer, Kris teller, Randall (Chicago, 19W), p. 105.

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scepticism of the accomplishments of theoretical philosophy. How infinitely small, I beseech you, is the greatest amount of knowledge granted to one single mind! Indeed, what a man knows, whosoever he may be, is nothing when compared -- I will not say with Clod's knowledge -- but .with his own ignorance. 95 To Petrarch's mind the failure of philosophers to reulize limitations was responsible for the dissensions with which philosophy was rent from its beginnings. No wonder human arrogance meets countless rugged cliffs when it unfolds its unfledged wings to the wind in this penury of knowledge. How copious and how ridiculous are the vanities of philosophers, how many contradicting opinions show up; how great is their obstinacy, how geat their impudence! Innumerable are the sects, innumerable the differences. How many quarrels break out, how ambiguous are all matters, haw great and entangled is the confusion of words!9d Petrarch was aware that moral philosophy needs some foundation of wisdom, but he was unwilling to trust morals to metaphysics. It is by now a well-known fact that man cannot know everything, not even many things. On the other hand, the Academy is disapproved and rebutted long since, and it is established that something can be known when God reveals it. Therefore, it may be sufficient to know as much as is necessary for salvat ion. 97 .Revelation is the only foundation Petrarch will take for his moral philosophy, but he adopts his interpretation of revelation largely from the writings of Augustine. Like Augustine who had

repudiated "all who do not carry philosophy into religious observance" 98 Petrarch repudiates all who seek to understand

^Ibid. , pp. 66-6 7 . ^Ibid., p. 22597lbid., p. 126. Italics mine.

^ D e vera religions, vii, 12 .

"pyvc.

113

virtue without becoming good.

But unlike Augustine and Anselm,

Petrarch was sceptical of the efficacy of the human mind to make sound progress in the understanding of the grounds of moral philosophy or religion. Nicolas of Cuab had been aware of the

limitations of human mind, but he made the very ignorance of vhich Petrarch complains the grounds of his philosophical method in the doctrine of learned ignor?uice, for Nicolas was convinced that the only cure for the ignorance in which we all labor is not less searching for truth, but more searching. The scepticism of metaphysics implicit in Petrarch's moralism became explicit in the writings of Lorenzo Valla (1U05-57), who concludes in his Dialogue on Free Will that it is impossible to conclude by reason that God's foreknowledge and providence are valid without reducing man to an ethical determinism. Since Valla

does accept the fact of divine providence, by reason he is led to accept a human nature conceived as acting according to a predetermined conditioning. In the end, Valla rejects the findings

of his reason for the authority of faith. We do not know the cause of this matter; of what consequence is it? We stand by faith not by the probability of reason. Does knowledge do much for the corroboration of faith? Humility does more.... Let us therefore shun greedy knowledge of high things, condescending rather to those of low estate. For nothing is of greater avail for Christian men than to feel humble. In this way we are more aware of the magnificence of God, whence it is written (I Pet. 5*5): "God resisteth the proud and giveth grace to the humble."99

99Lorenzo Valla, On Free Will to Garsia, Bishop of Lerida. tr. Charles Edward Trinkaus, Jr., in The Benaissance Philosophy of Man. pp. 180-181 .

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Petrarch and Valla are characteristic of many humanists in

tneir attitude toward speculative philosophy.

Petrarch's

Ciceronism could hardly have had any other effect, for the student only seldom surpasses the master, and Petrarch's masters in philosophy were Cicero and Seneca.

In turning aside from the

"barbarous" Latin of the scholastics, Petrarch also turned aside

from the concepts that were phrased in scholastic language:

the

language of Cicero simply cannot match the precision of the scholastic vocabulary. But Petrarch was not just a belle lettrist;

he objected on doctrinal grounds to the scholasticism with which he was familiar. When he mentions the Aristotelians, he refers

to the Latin or Christian Averroists, and to their doctrine of the eternity of the world and denial of personal immortality. is the Averroists whom he describes as the "crasy and clamorous set of Scholastics"^ and who led him to remark, "I will not .be persuaded that any good can come from Arabia."101 The scepticism toward theoretical philosophy which is so apparent in Augustlnlan humanits like Petrarch and Vaila, is closely related to their horror of the Averroistic scholasticism which more and more dominated the Italian and Iberian universities. Philosophical It

speculation seemed to be coming into open conflict with the faith; even Christian Averroists made an increasing use of the theory of
100Ren. Phil, 1Q1Ibld.. p. Ik2.

Man. p. 108.

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double truth, & device which called forth Petrarch's scorn: You could, furthermore, observe in their tumultuous gatherings that, as soon as a public disputution is started, they are in the habit of declaring emphatically that during the debate they intend to lay aside faith and store it sway for the moment; and they declare this because they do not dare to spit out their errors. However, I beseech you, Is this anything else than seeking the truth after having rejected the truth?... Nothing more insane can be imagined. 102 The Latin Averroism which gave the Augustinian and Platonic humanists such concern had its first notable representative in the opponent of Thomas Aquinas at Paris, Siger de Brabant, whose doctrines were condemned in 1270 and again in 1277 After the silencing of Siger, Averroism found a refuge in many of the Italian universities where the faculties of theology were weak and the medical faculties strong. The offending doctrines have been sunmarized by Professors

Kristeller and Randall: Creation is eternal, by emanations; there is no creation in time, and hence no first man, no Adam and Eve, no Fall. Matter is eternal, and so is that mysterious Intellect of which Aristotle speaks. It is deathless and unremitting, the Intelligence of the lowest sphere, common to all men and particularizing itself in their individual souls, as light illuminates their bodies. These human Intellects live an after death only as moments in the single Intellect of mankind. Hence there is no personal Immortality, no heaven or hell, and no last Judgment.103 The doctrine that creation is eternal and that, consequently, matter i.e., prime matter is also eternal, is clearly

Aristotelian; but this Aristotelian position has been developed within the Neoplatonic context of emanations. lOgRan. Phil, of Man., pp.9k-95. 1Q3Ren. Phil, of Man, p. 10. Aristotle's God, the

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thought that thinks itself, does not know the created world, much less cause it by emanation. At best, he is that toward which all

things strive as they seek the fullness of their own natures. Whether it is rlslDtelian to speak of an Intelligence of the lowest

sphere is difficult to decide, but the doctrine is clearly Neoplatonic and as clearly not Christian. ' Within this reference Averroes developed an Aristotelianism directly opposed by Christian dogma, and also, later, by the humanist's concern for the personal dignity and immortality of man. Averroes' blend of a Neoplatonic setting

with Aristotelian doctrines entered into Latin Averroism and made it impossible for anyone to philosophize in this school without being to some extent Platonic.

None of the schools of the renaissance, in fact, were free of Platonism: Thomas' borrowings from Augustine are well known;

Scotus' philosophical foundations were essentially Augustinfan, although he expressed his Augustinianism largely in scholastic terms; Ockham's philosophical probabilism was backed by a vigorous Augustlnian theology. Humanistic moral philosophers like Petrarch

and Valla based their moralities largely upon Augustine when they were willing to depart from Scripture, and Petrarch, at least, accepted Augustine's estimate ttat the Platonists were closest in doctrine to the revealed religion. The presence of Platonic

elements in all of the principal renaissance philosophies accounts, in part, for our recognition that there was such a thing as a distinctive renaissance philosophy. To this must be

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added the fact that the philosophies of the universities, whether they were Thomist, Jcotist or Ockhamist, shared a common philosophical vocabulary with which even the literary numanists were familiar, however much they thought the terminology barbarous and however little they understood it. Yet these similarities of origin and

vocabulary led to bewildering controversy and disagreements rather than to bases of agreement. The reason for this is not hard to find:

few things are more exasperating them to see another use our own language and postulates to arrive at conclusions directly opposed to our own fundamental truths. The many similarities in the

philosophy of these renaissance groups force the student of ideas to classify different groups more by their general attitudes than by their specific doctrines. .

But if Nicolas of Cusa was the greatest philosophical thinker among the Renaissance Platonists, it is clear that Marsilio Ficino (1^33-1^99), head of Cosimo de Medici's Academy near Florence, was the most influential figure among them. Throughout the

sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, and part of the nineteenth centuries many philosophers, scholars, and literary men read Plato and Plotinus and other Platonic writers in Ficino*s translations, and many of them absorbed their understanding of these philosophers through the interpretation they found in Ficino's commentaries.^0^ 10**Paul Oskar Kristeller, The Philosophy of Marsilio Ficino. tr. Virginia Conant (New York, 19^3), P* 20: 1 1It was not until the nineteenth century that his translations were definitely replaced by other versions in modern languages. They were, however, still being reprinted as late as l810."

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Trimslations of various Platonic writings poured from Ficino's pen over a period of nearly thirty yeirs.-^^ His first major work,

the Corpus Hermet icum, appeared in 1^63, and in that year he began the first complete Latin version of all of Plato's dialogues, completing the translation in 1U68. In
1^69

he completed his
1

commentaries on Plato's Symposium and Philebus, and between

U6 9

and IU7 I + he produced the eighteen books of his principal work, Theologica Platonica. His translation of Plotinus and his Plotinian commentaries occupied the years 1**8U to IU92 during which he also made translations of Porphyry, Produs and other Neoplatonic sources, all of which appeared in.lJ*88. His translation of Dionysius the

Areopagite was completed in IU92 . The influence of Ficino*s translations and commentaries is easier to understand when ve recollect that although the humanists of the renaissance extolled Greek, they devoted their energies to the acquisition of a Ciceronian Latin Petrarch, for instance, tells of his disappointment

at not being able to read his Greek manuscript containing sixteen of Plato *s dialogues. In making his translations Ficino was well within the humanist ideals, but in working out a new Platonic philosophy he went far beyond the ordinary humanist interest in philosophy. The most

important difficulties he faced were the Augustinlan humanist scepticism of theoretical philosophy, the widening gap between

10% o r the chronology of Ficino's works cf. Paul Oskar Kristeller, ed., Supplementum Flcinianum. 2 vols, (Florence, 1937), I, lxxvii-clxvii.

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philosophy and religion, u growing tendency to atheism, and a widespread denial of personal inmortality and the unique dignity of man among created species. His position via a difficult one:

regarding himself as a Christian philosopher, he found it necessary to defend the validity of human reason against sceptical Christians and to defend the validity of the Christian outlook against naturalistic philosophers. Even his humanism was such as to

divide him against the Augustinians and Averroists, for basing a large part of his doctrine of human dignity upon the intellectual nature of the human soul, he found himself conflonted among the Augustinfcn humanists by Petrarchian pessimism, on the one hand, and something like a doctrine of total depravity in Lorenzo Valla on the other. But his humanistic concern for human dignity also led that is,

him to postulate the personal immortality of the soul:

his doctrine of human worth centered on the immortal and personal worth of each individual; yet he found himself opposed in this view by humanistic naturalists who insisted that the dignity of man could and must be defended on purely naturalistic grounds. Flclno's solution to his dilemma was Ingenious and simple. He attributed to Platonic religious philosophy a divine sanction, which he strengthened by quoting the approval of Platonism expressed by the Christian Fathers, especially by Augustine. Then he offered

his religious philosophy to the non-religious philosophers in the

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expectation that- they would be attracted to it

as philosophy and

then led by it to religion.. Ficino's plan was deliberate, as ve may gather from a letter of his: We must not think that the subtle and philosophical, minds of men can ever be gradually enticed and led to the perfect religion by any lure other than a philosophical one. For subtle minds trust themselves only to reason, and if they receive religion from a religious philosopher, at once and of their own volition they recognize religion in general and from there pass more readily to the best species of religion included in that genus. It was, therefore, by the will of divine Providence, which leads all men unto itLf admirably as befits the nature of each particular individual, that a religious philosophy arose among the Persians under Zoroaster and likewise among the Egyptians under Trismegistus, that it was then nursed by the Thracians under Orpheus and Agleophemus, to be later developed among the Greeks and Italians under Pythagoras and finally perfected in Athens under the divine Plato.... The passage is an interesting revelation of Ficino's faith in reason and in the reasonableness for the antiquity of Platonism. of men, and of his reverence Men, he believes, who have been

gifted with subtle minds can only be led to religion through reason, and this much, at least, a religious philosopher can do for them. Once they have become religious, their own abilities It seems at first sight

will lead them to the true religion.

that Ficino has departed from the traditional belief of Augustinian Platonism, shared by Nicolas of Cusa, that faith must come first. Yet Augustine himself was led to religion through various philosophies and to the choice of the true religion through a rational comparison ^tersilius Ficinus, Opera Omnia. 2 vols (Basel, 1561; 2d ed. 1576), pp. 3?1 ff., quoted by Paul Oskar Kristeller, The Philosophy of Marsilio Ficino, p. 26. Ficino's reverence for the antiquity of the Platonic religious philosophy was based upon an opinion of

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of the religion taught him by the Monichees with the religion he learned through the sermons of Ambrose and through Paul's epistles. Reason, according to , ugustine, con lead to faith, but the faith reached derives its authority from revelation, not from its reasonableness-. The function of reason, after faith has been The weak

reached, is to understand the faith, not to verify it.

point in Ficino's confidence is his assumption that subtle minds, once become religious, will inevitably go on to accept the faith of Christianity; it seems equally likely that they might rest Actually Ficino leaves

content with a Neoplatonic mysticism.

the ultimate conversion of the reasonable man to the Christian faith in the hands of divine Providence "which leads all men unto itself admirably as befits the nature of each particular individual." As an instrument of divine Providence, Ficino felt

the antiquity of some of his Platonic texts which later research has shown to be of Hellenistic origin. The Hermetic writings, for example, which Ficino supposes to antedate Pythagoras, are now commonly assigned to the third century BC. The tendency to antedate documents was common in the renaissance: Nicolas of Cusa attributes great antiquity to the writings of the Neo -Pythagoreans which are now attributed to writers in the first century BC. This antedating of texts was not deliberate, but it was convenient for Ficino's theory of a divinely provided religious philosophy. Ficino's derivation of the Platonic philosophy, as outlined in the passage quoted above, traces the beginnings of religious philosophy to times which roughly penallei Biblical times. By associating the origin of Platonic philosophy with the times of the Bible, Ficino prepares the mind far his assertion that Platonic philosophy is divinely authorized.

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himself responsible only for the perfection and dissemination of a religious philosophy which might lure subtle minds to religion. Ficino is explicit, ulso, in expressing his belief that religion needs the confirmation of philosophical authority until such times as miracles will again be performed among the people. The whole world is now in the hands of the Peripatetics and is divided mainly into two sects, Alexandrists and Averroists. Both deny any form of religion. If anyone think to destroy by the simple preaching of faith an impiety so diffused among men and defended by such subtle minds, he will soon be refuted by the results. Stranger measures are needed: either divine miracles manifested on all sides or at least a philosophical religion to which philosophers will listen more readily and which will some day succeed in convincing them. But in these times it pleases divine Providence to confirm religion in general by philosophical authority and reason until, on a day already predestined, it will confirm the true religion, as in othef times, by miracles wrought among all peoples,107 In asserting ttat the impiety of subtle minds will not be destroyed by the simple preaching of faith, Ficino rebukes the Christian humanists who would confine philosophy to simple morality, while by insisting that serious philosophy must, for the present, take the place of miracles as the means for confirming religion, Ficino rebukes humanists like Valla who insist that philosophy is the souree of all heresies. In designing his philosophy as a middle way between fundamentalism and irreligion, Ficino avoided the necessity of arguing separately against each of his opponents, for he regarded the philosophy of

'Opera Omnia, pp. 871 ff of Marsillo Ficino, pp. 28-29.

Quoted by Kristeller, The Philosophy

123

the Platonic tradition sufficient to overcome objections from either extreme. Although Platonism predominates .in his philosophy,

tne traditions of Aristotle, the Scholastic, even Averroes, are not entirely absent. .Like his contemporary Pico della Mirandola, he believed that all the great philosophers had a doctrinal share in the one truth, and so he was willing to syncretize notions, methods, and dogmas from every quarter under the predominating influence of a ratio platonica. For example, he frequently uses the scholastic method of disputations and questions; many of the principles he aseerts he learned from Thomas; much of his vocabulary is taken from Aristotelian scholasticism. The opusculum, Five Questions Concerning the Mind, provides an interesting example of Ficino's philosophy and m e t h o d . A s the title suggests, the form of the work is that of the scholastic disputation. It differs from the form followed by St. Thomas only

in the elimination of the usual set of objections to each thesis at the outset of the disputation, and, in consequence, in the elimination of the concluding replies to objections. Ficino s

purpose in the five questions is to establish the personal immortality of the individual both in mind and in body. In the

fashion of Aristotle he begins from what is better known "with respect to us" to what is better known "in itself"; that is, he begins with the observation that things in nature, by which he

IQ^Opera O m i a , pp. 675 ff Translated by Josephine L. Burroughs In The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, pp. 193"212

12J 4

neans jpecies, are

vitoin

s e e n tc a

exhibit

natural inclination

to an e nd

the universe as

whole which is Itself the origin of their

movement.-

By inductive generalization he argues that what is true

the

of each of the orders in universe as

a

universe is

true

of the order of the

whole.

The

mind of man, as one of the orders of being, like

is thus seen to have a natural motion toward a determinate end.

the scholastics Ficino considers the mind of man under two aspects, intelligence and will, and he argues that the end of both must be found in rest of some sort, rather than in motion, since both seek something that is "stable and eternal." That intellect seeks a stable

and eternal goal is a commonplace of Plato's philosophy and of Platonism in gpieral; that the will also seeks rest -in an eternal object is a concept introduced by St. Augustine who first developed the idea of will as a philosophical doctrine and then insisted that the will, or heart, is uneasy until it rests in God. Ficino then

shows that the particular end of mind is universal truth and goodness, for anything less than this will not allow the mind the rest it seeks so that both intelligence and will will be driven to seek another end, and then another, until at last the mind arrives at infinite truth and goodness. Saving decided that mind moves toward an end,

conceived as rest in infinite truth and goodness, Ficino asks whether mind can attain its desired end and good. "Surely," he

answers, "the rational soul can at some time reach its perfect end."109 At this point Ficino deals with certain considerations which must i0%en. Phil, of Man, p. 202.

125

be net and solved before he can reach the conclusion he desires. The general question he wishes to detemine is whether the mind is better able than sense to attain its desired end. He begins by

adducing various reasons showing that intellect is more perfect than sense. The.basis of these reasons is toe argument that

"Intellect is at least as much more perfect than sense, as its power is extended in its action more widely and more perfectly than that of sense."HO Having estblished that intellect is more perfect

than sense, he then shows that mind is better able than sense to reach its end, because "where that formal perfection which is innate from the beginning is more strong, at that very place final perfection, according to the order of nature, is granted more easily, more abundently, and with greater felicity. " H I But this reasoning seems

to lead to a contradiction, since "we know b7 experience that the beast in us, that is, sense, most often attains its end and good,... ^but7 We do not, however, know by experience that the man in us, that is, reason, attains its desired end."^-^ He observes that if reason

serves sense, reason is violently agitated arid even agitates sense; but If reason takes sense or resists sense, life becomes laborious. Even when reason seeks Its own end, truth, it "is always uncertain, vacillating and distressed; and since it is nowhere at rest while thus affected, it certainly never gains possession of its desired
110Ibld.. p. 20 k. 111Ibid., p. 207.
^Ibid., p.

207.

12 6

end or permits sense to take possession of its proper end which is alre .dy present. Experience, then, seems to teach that man,

who i r . respect of formal perfection is the most perfect of all animals, is of ail animals least perfect in respect of his final perfection. Hoy, then, shall we reply to a contradiction of this kind? On the one hand, the argument promised the greatest ease /of attaining infinite truth and goodnes7 > on tiie other, experience shows in an equal degree, the greatest difficulty. Only the law of Moses will solve this confliat for us. Indeed, we have been placed outside the order of first nature, and -- 0 sorrow! live and suffer contrary to the order of nature. The more easily the first man was able to receive happiness when in the beginning he was entirely devoted to God, the more easily he has lost ease itself when thereafter he turned against God. Therefore, the greater the difficulty with which all the descendants of the first parent receive blessedness when placed outside the order of nature, the greater the ease with which they would receive it if restored to that very order. That is, the only sufficient explanation of the discrepancy between the natural and formal perfection of man's nature and his failure to achieve the final perfection of that nature, is the doctrine of the Fall, for- man could not fail to arrive naturally at his natural perfection unless he had somehow fallen outside 'the order of first nature." The immediate consequence of this is that man

must first be restored to his "natural condition" before he can hope to reach the final perfection implicit in his formal perfection. According to Ficino man is outside the order of first nature

^Fen. Phil, of Man, p. 208 . ^~^Tbid. , p. 209. Italics mine.

127

because nortal. w n e n nis

his

soul,

which

is

immortal,

inhabits, a b o d y w h i c h of n a n

is

Consequently,

the natural condition is "either free Thus,

is r e a c h e d or in a

everla s t i n g soul

frora t h e b o d y

i
temperate i m m o r t a l .celestial b o d y . " he concludes:

naturul end itself, m o r e o v e r , s e e m s to exist only in a natural condition. The condition of the everlasting soul which seems to be in the highest degree natural is that it should continue to live in its own body made everlasting. Therefore, it ! . u s/nciad^l by. necessary reasoning: that the immortality and brightness of th e soul can and must at some time shine forth into its own body and that, in this condition alone, the highest blessedness of man is indeed .perfected. Certainly, this doctrine of the prophets and theologians is confirmed by the Persian vise men and by the Hermetic and the Platonic philosophers.^-5
The

The crux of Ficino's argument lies in his assertion that the natural condition of man consists in his possession of an immortal soul, as the Platonists generally had admitted, and also in the possession of an immortal body, as the Christians claimed. the subtle mind of the irreligious philosopher accepts this position, it .is clear tht he will be led eventually to accept the one true religion, for only the Christian religion (counting the Islamic tradition as a Christian heresy) asserts that mans immortality is an immortality of body and soul. argument that the mortal body is
unnatural

If

But Ficino's

turns upon the doctrine

of the Fall which, very conceivably, a subtle mind would find little difficulty in rejecting. It is likely that Plato would

have rejected the notion of an immortal body, and it is a fact L1^Ren. Phil, of Man, pp. 211-212.

128

that,the concept The

Neoplatonists o f an

o:' the f o u r t h c e n t u r y A D ar.rpied t h a t irrational . f i n d or. e x c e s s i v e great

the

immortal body was

h u m a n ! rt ic s c e p t i c w o u l d n o d oubt arp .iments , t o o

I n t e l l e c tualis .u in F i c i n o ' s natural powers

an emphasis, u p o n

as o p p o s e d t o g r a c e , and a creature, drawn

u wholly unwarranted ffom nothing by soul.

a s s u m p t i o n that the power

into ex i s t e n c e

of God, for

could na t u r a l l y have an Ficino's care

immortal body and reasoning

I n s hor t,

all

and careful

it seems
too

inevitable that the religionists would think that he was intellectual and the intellectuals that he was
too

religious:

his

attempt to make Platonism a divinely ordained, rational counterpart of religious revelation could satisfy neither philosopher nor theologian. Ficino's attempt to develop a religious philosophy

agreeable to all the sages of the past really amounted to an effort to combine paganism) Judaism, and Christianity in one lofty, edifying, and useful doctrine. Today Ficino is remembered chiefly for his doctrine of "Platonic love," although the doctrine is seldom understood in the form Ficino gave to i t . F i c i n o ' s concept of love is a complex one which embraces a number of different theories: Augustine's concept of will; Paul's idea of charity; Aristotelian and Hellenistic doctrines of friendship; and, of course, Ficino's interpretation of Plato's ideal of love. Ficino regards love

generically as an act of the soul's unrest in its search for God. Specifically love is a desire or appetite for beauty and has the

ll^Cf. Kristeller, The Philosophy of Marsllio Ficino. "Will and Love," pp. 256 -288 .

129

enjoyment

of

beauty

as

its end.

At

the out sot

of h i e

theory
of

Ficino stresses the contemplative element in the perception

beauty

which leads beyond sensual

en j o y m e n t , of

and so he

will allow

the lower senses no part in the upon a spiritual interpretation

enjoyment of love.

beauty and insists

Beauty, which exists in

bodies, sounds, and in souls, can be attained only through seeing, hearing, and thinking, and not, for example, through touch. origin of all beauty is the splendor
of

The

God, which is distinct

from his goodness, for the good is the highest existence of God while beauty is a sort of divine ray penetrating all things. Since

the beauty of things is derived from God, human love to the extent that it is directed toward a beautiful object is related indirectly to God: "The beauty of things is the lure by which the Soul of the Human love is

lover is led to God," as Kristeller puts it.11^

never satisfied with a finite object, but in its restlessness is always impelled forward until it eventually seeks rest in the sight of God, its total and final object. Love as appetite or desire of beauty is closely related to will which Ficino defines as an appetite for good following a decision of the intellect, so that will and love share many attributes. Where intellect tends to assimilate its object to Thus

itself, love assimilates itself to the object as will does.

whenever the goal of the soul is something outside itself, love U Tibid., p. 268.

130

and will can contribute much more to the real attainment of that goal than con inlellect. But since man's ultimate end is outside himselX in God, will is the principle which puts soul in motion and le-ds it to its end, while love, the principle which assimilates itself to its object in closest union, unites the soul more closely to God than any other force of the soul. Love, then, is the soul's

desire to be united to the splendor of God, and through that splendor, to God himeelf. Love between persons was regarded by Ficino as a preparation for the love of God and was grounded in the fact that beauty in persons is a reflected splendor of divine beauty. Having beauty

as its object and being limited to sight, sound, and thought, love'* cannot be sensual. Moreover, love between persons is

necessarily mutual and objectively necessary, for love is based upon a likeness in the lovers and must arise in both for the same reason and cause. Thus in Ficinos account of love the erotic mutual love,

relation between the sexes loses its Importance:

free from any sensual element, may exist between man and man, woman and woman, man and woman, and human being and God. Since love is argenuine relationship, Ficino argues that it must be founded on something essential in man and must presuppose in lovers the highest form of love love of God.

Since Ficino believes that the love of God constitutes human consciousness, it alone can be the basis of true love. But for

131

the

l o v o of G o d t o b e e o n e t s o In its inner the and

foundation

of

true must

love a n d f r i e n d s h i p , consciously turn

t h e soul, t o God. in a r e a l

s p i r i t u a l ascent, lo ve for

Thereupon,

soul's other of

God

will find con f i r m a t i o n love n n u p e r f e c t and

communion with

persons.

Perfect

friendship exist find fullest

in a b o n d

intellectual and mo r a l c o m munion the m e m b e r s of a p h i l o s o p h i c a l

expression amonr are

school,

v h e r o master and pupils t h e n to one another

eq u a l l y dedicated first to God and endeavor of c u l t u r e a n d h o n e s t y .

in a c o m a n

To describe the sort of friendship which exists between members of the Florentine Academy, Donati:
Ficino

writes

in

a letter to Alamanno

"What kind fof friendship will ours be called, Oh Alamanno?

Since it began from nothing else than from Platonic love (amore Platonlco), we must call it nothing else than Platonic."11 the term "Platonic love" Ficino means, says Kristeller in an excellent summary, the "intellectual love between friends; love which unites the members of the Academy into a community, which is based on the individual's love for God, end is called, with reference to Plato's Sympns1 "Platonic love" -- that is, love Ey

conceived in the sense of Plato."119 Ficino's concept of "Platonic love" caught the fancy of many renaissance writers and thinkers and led to a large literature on the subject of intellectual love, oneof the most famous works

11Opera omnia, p. 71b. Quoted by Kristeller, The Philosophy of Marsilio Ficino, pp. 285-286.
^Kristeller, The Philosophy of Marsilio Ficino, p. 286.

being Leone Kbreo's Ills t h o u g h t w i t h i n of love he does

Dlaloghi

c l'.'bore.12 Q

Although

KbreG

develops concept change

the

context

of J u d a i c N e o p l a t o n i s m , Lone

his

is

substantially however,

the

sam e as F i c i n o ' s .

of t h e

make,

are

a - a i g n of in his Kbreo

the

difficulty Ficino's separation of a l l

contemporaries erotic insist which

must have felt

absolute

elements from love, for that perfect human love

hes his protagonist Philo sensual element

in

requires a

spiritual love is confirmed and integrated "through the

of

bodily activities

love" for "physical union increases and

as

perfects the spiritual love, even

prudence is perfected by the A copy of the Spanish

correspondence of prudent actions."121

edition of Ebreo's Dialogues was found in Spinoza's library when an inventory was made of his effects after he died. Spinoza could

not have failed to notice that much of what Ebreo had said of universal love agreed with his own theory of the intellectual love of God, and possibly Spinoza was influenced in the formulation of his doctrine by what he found in Ebreo. The Florentine arguments for the validity of knowledge, the dignity of man, the unity of mankind in the one truth, the immortality of the soul, the importance of human freedom and love made an effective impression on renaissance thought, but were

^^^Leone Ebreo (Judah Abrabanel) was physician to the Spanish Viceroy at Naples and a frequenter of the "Academies of the Gentles Although he wrote his dialogues in 1501-02, they were not published until 1535. He was barn in lk60 at Lisbon and died sometime after 1520. The standard Engllsh edition of his work is that translated by F. Friedeberg-Seeley and Jean H. Barnes, introd. Cecil Both, The Philosophy of Love (Dialoghi d'Amore) (London, 1937). 121The Philosophy of Love, p. 55 .

insufflcient to overcome Aristotelian naturalism in t h e w r i t i n g s i n f l u e n t i a l that of of m e n

sce p t i c i s m and naturalism. of t h e Italian universities

The humanistic us e x p r e s s e d so

like Pie t r o Pomponazzi

(1^612-lilt) was official in 1^12

the

Church was of

compelled soul's

to take

notice at

the

widespread denial Council

the

immortality;

the Lateran

held

under

the direction of Leo X the doctrine for the first time in

Church

of the immortality of the

s o u l was' In

history made a do^gna of faith.

1580 the publication of

Montaigne's Essays witnessed the explicit acceptance of scepticism which had been implicit in renaissance thought from its very .beginnings. Petrarch had prepared the way with his On His Own

Ignorance; Nicolas of Cusa had made ignorance the principle of his philosophy with the doctrine of "learned ignorance." Yet

Montaigne's scepticism was not limited to doubts of theoretical science, but was also directed against the extravagant humanistic claims for man's exalted position in the universe. The stage was

set for Descartes, who was to define his philosophical position in large part against the inheritance he received from the late renaissance; scepticism, denial of the soul's immortality, and

denial of the existence of a transcendent, personal God.

: !. Descartes .

it i3 generally acknowledged that by overcoming the scepticism of late renaissance philosophy hene Descartes .(lb^i-lb^O) opened a new period of constructive philosophical thought. For this

accomplishment he is given a place in the history of philosophy alongside Socrates, who overcame the scepticism of some of the Sophists; Augustine, who turned Academic doubt into a proof of certitude; and Kant, who found something to rescue for philosophy in the wreckage left by Hume. Even the severest critics of

Cartesianism, the Neo-Scholastics who trace to Descartes much of the folly they find in the m o d e m world, admire his genius and admit the necessity for a restoration of philosophy in his time; they admit the fact and energy of the Cartesian restoration, but they deplore its direction and worth. Yetjit is evident that

Descartes won for Leibniz and Spinoza and to a lesser extent even for John Locke a respite from the distractions of sceptism, and that as a result they could develop their own philosophies in relative peace of mind. Many elements in Descartes' philosophy are Platonic: his

methodology draws upon Platonic mathematicism and ideology; August inlan analysis provided him with a starting point in his search for the first principles of knowledge; Anselmian ontologism appears in each of his proofs for the existence of God; his concern to make philosophy

135

and science fruitful in daily life, although Buconian, is also like Platos insistence that the philosopher must return to the cave. In a very real sense the Cartesian reform of philosophy

muy be called Platonic, because the reform consisted in replacing renaissance and medieval doctrines with doctrines that drew much from various forms of Platonism.

The scepticism of the renaissance could not be cured by reminding renaissance thinkers of St. Augustine's arguments against the Academics; they were familiar with those arguments and admitted that Augustine had conclusively proved the existence of some truths. Whatthey doubted was the possibility of systematic

and certain knowledge sufficiently extensive in scope to merit the name of philosophy or science. This doubt gave rise to two

apparently contrasting attitudes common to renaissance philBophers: the first, a weary acceptance of the limitations of human thought and a despairing recognition of the disproportion between human knowledge and. human ignorance; the second, an acceptance of inquiry for inquiry's sake which reduced thought to a pleasurable game capable of occasional, accidental discoveries, unrelated on the whole to the actualities of experience and nature. Lorenzo Valla

describes both attitudes in his Dialogue on Free Will where he represents himself as wearily accepting limitations of human knowledge an grounds of prudent self-regard: ...if we were sorrowed by all we do not know, we would make life M a d and bitter for ourselves. Would you like

136

me to list for you hov many things are unknown to us, not only divine and supernatural things such as this of which we are talking, but also the human ones which can enter our knowledge? In brief, there are many more things which are unknown. For this reason the Academics, though wrongly, nevertheless said nothing is fully known to us . But Valla represents his friend Antonio as a man consumed by a greed for inquiry, even where he doubts that inquiry can lead to solution.

To be sure, I admit that what you say is true, but somehow I am so impatient and greedy that I cannot control the impulse of my mind.... Let us dismiss the Academics with their point of view, who, although they would put all in doubt, certainly could not doubt of their own doubts; and, although they argued nothing is known, nevertheless they did not lose their zeal for investigation. Furthermore, we know that later thinkers added much to what was previously found out; their precept and example ought to spur us to discovering other things also.^ 3 These attitudes were no doubt based in part upon individual differences of temperament, but they were based also upon the philosophical conviction that the extent of systematic human knowledge was sharply limited and that the increases to the stores of human knowledge were accidental benefits of enthusiastic inquiry. These views are not much removed from the scepticism of

a Montaigne who found that he could defend a position, but could not choose one. Thus, when we speak of renaissance scepticism,

we refer to the belief that human knowledge is limited and fortuitous. Descartes, defining his position against renaissance scepticism, asserted that human wisdom is capable of indefinite increase if

122rhe Renaissance Rtilosophy of Man, pp. 158-59I23ihid.. p. 159.

the seurch for knowledge i . - intelligently methodical.

In place of

Vella's pessimism Descartes offered the hope of a continually increasing knowledge; in j jre of Antonio's enthusiastic inquiry, Descartes offered method. in place of Montaigne's scepticism,

Descartes offered the hope of a methodically progressive and objectively valid human aience. Descartes' reversal of

scepticism depends upon his concept of science and his concept of method, ideas which he had already stated clearly in his first philosophical work, Rules for the Direction of the Mind.
12k

In the Rules for the Direction of the Mind, under the discussion of Rule II, Descartes asserts that "Science in its entirety is true and evident cognition."-^5 Consequently, nothing is to be regarded

as an object of scientific knowledge except "what is completely known and incapable of being doubted."126 Descartes then anticipates

12L . This work was not published in Descartes' lifetime, and cannot be numbered among the effective documents of the early Cartesianism, but it is of immense value for understanding the thought of Descartes himself. The Rules was first published in 1701 at Amsterdam in the Opuscule Posthuma. It is generally assumed that Spinoza, who died in 1677) never saw a copy of it. But there is a strikingly close parallel between Descartes' description in Rule VIII of the progressive develop ment of innate instruments of thought and Spinoza's similar description in the De Intellect us Tftiwvdatione Tractatus. The De Intellectus Emendatlone was written in 1661. In 1664 Clerselier lent his copy of Descartes' Rules to Arnauld and Nicole for the second edition of the Port Royal Logic. By l>70 several copies were in circulation, one of which Leibniz bought. Although Spinoza may not have seen a copy, the parallel is interesting. -^^Descartes Selections, ed. Ralph M. Eaton, p. UO.
126ibid.

130

the objection that the human mind can know but few things with such certainty and completeness -- an objection which would have occurred to a man like Lorenzo V..11a: No doubt men of education may persuade themselves that there is but little of such certain knowledge, because, forsooth, a common failing of human nature has made them deem it too easy and open to everyone, and so led them to neglect to think upon such truths; but I nevertheless announce that there are more of these than they think -truths which suffice to give a rigorous demonstration of innumerable propositions, the discussion of which they had hitherto been unable to free from the element of probability .-^7 Against the men of education Descartes makes two points; the first,

that there are more completely known and indisputable truths than they had imgined; the second, that these truths suffice to demonstrate Innumerable propositions. The second point implies the possibility of a rigorously demonstrated and indefinitely progressive science. The two points together describe the idea of deductive Descartes attributes

science based upon a number of basic truths.

the failure of his predecessors in science to their inability to realize the fecundity of simple truths, and his criticism suggests that if his predecessors had paid sufficient attention to the manner in which propositions may be generated from simple truths they would have discovered the method which alone makes science possible. .After three centuries of continuous development in the natural sciences, it is easy to believe that natural science is capable of ^ Tlbid. . pp. Uo-Ui.

139

indefinite progress.

Consequently, when we read Descartes'

announcement of such progress, it is difficult to reullze the extravagance of his claim, and it is easy to miss the enormous self-confidence behind the phrase, "I nevertheless announce" (Moneo taaen): Descartes, who was then thirty-two years old, on his own authority assured the world of educated men that progressive science was possible and that contrary to their belief its advent was at hand. And, as it turned out, he was right.

Against enthusiastic inquiry for inquiry's sake, exemplifed by Valla in his friend Antonio, Descartes insists in Rule IV that "There is need of a method for finding out the truth,"128 his discussion of this rule he makes it clear that he regards inquiry for inquiry's sake as a pernicious waste of time so long as it Is not guided by a clear and certain method: So blind is the curiosity by which mortals are possessed, that they often conduct their minds along unexplored routes, having no reason to hope for success, but merely being willing to risk the experiment of finding whether the truth they seek lies there. As well might a man burning with an unintelligent desire to find treasure, continuously roam the streets, seeking to find something that a passerby might have chanced to drop. This is the way in which most Chemists, many Geometricians, and Philosophers not a few prosecute their studies. I do not deny that sometimes in these wanderings they are lucky enough to find something true. But I do not allow that this argues greater industry on their part, but only better luck. But, however that may be, it were far better never to think of investigating truth at all, than to do so without a mdhod. For it is very certain that unregulated inquiries and confused reflections of this kind only confoud the natural light and blind our mental powers.129

!28lbid.. p. 15. ^ Pjbid.. pp. 15-19.

140

When Descartes says "it were fur better never to think of invest!citing truth at all, than to do so without a method".he states one of his becic convictions, but refrains from revealing that the one method for investieating truth in the sciences is the method which he has discovered. The idea o f ' method is central

to his concept of progressive science and to his rejection of all forms of scepticism. It is us though he regarded scepticism

simply as a failure of method, so that with the discovery of method the terrors dissipate, and, with experience of the successful application of the method, disappear.

Descartes defines his concept of method: Moreover by a method I mean certain and simple rules, such that, if a man observe them accurately, he shall never assume what is false as true, and will never spend his mental efforts to no purpose, but will always gradually increase his knowledge and so arrive at a true understanding of all that does not surpass his powers.130 Method, then, is a set of rules for securing truth, efficiency, and a true understanding of all that a man can know. Taken together

with the assurance that certain truths exist which suffice to demonstrate rigorously innumerable propositions, Descartes' reply to the sceptics is complete: he agrees with Lorenzo Valia that it

is folly to grieve over matters that exceed human understanding, but he *jects Valla's pessimism by insisting that men can come to know with certitude countless propositions; he agrees with the optimistic belief (which Valla put in the mouth of "Antonio") that inquiry leads to discovery, but he rejects the notion of inquiry

^ Olbid. , p. 49.

1 J+1

for inquirys sake and insists thnt successful inquiry depends entirely upon a proper method. It is true that in the hules

Descartes rives only incidental examples of the success of his method. : ~ nhat much cf his position rests largely upon his own authority and aainmccs; but later when he published the Discourse on Method he appended to it three treatises on dioptrics, meteors, and geometry as examples of the productiveness of his method, and these treatises, especially the Geometry, were so successful that they assured a sort of a posteriori Justification of the method.

It is not enough to say that Descartes' concept of science and method vas directed against renaissance scepticism, for he opposed as veil both Ockhamian probabilism and the Aristotelian and Thoaistic methodological principle of degrees of certainty in the sciences. It vas Descartes' insistence that all philosophical

knowledge and science must be certain which put him in opposition to the probabilism of the Ockhamists. Ockham had often used

his astute powers of analysis to show that many conclusions' in philosophy and theology rested upon arguments which were not in fact demonstrative. After he had reduced a proposition to the

status of a probable opinion, he then very often justified it on non-philosophical grounds. For instance, in the Theological Saying after considering the various arguments supporting the conclusion that God's power is infinite, he says: The conclusion , therefore, is not demonstrated but is held only as a probable opinion. For it gives a sufficient honor to our God, if we acknowledge and

Ik2

attribute to him such excellency and glory as that than which nothing higher can be conceived.^31 It is interesting to notice here that Ockham uses Anselm's definition of God as a sufficient reason for attributing to God properties which cannot be rationally demonstrated. Descartes' method requires

that if the problem of the infinity of God's power is suitable for

philosophy, the proposition should be demonstrated conclusively; if if it is a problem for theology, it should not be subjected to philosophical demonstration. Descartes was convinced that any effort

in philosophy which endd in a probable opinion was sheer waste: Science in its entirety is true and evident coalition. He is no more learned who has doubts on many matters than the man who has never thought ofthem; nay he appears to be less learned if he has formed wrong opinions chi any particulars. Hence it were better not to Btudy at all than to occupy one's self with objects of such difficulty, that, owing to our inability to distinguish true from false, we are forced to regard the doubtful as certain; for in these matters any hope of augmenting our knowledge is exceeded by the risk of diminishing it.132 From Descartes' point of view Ockham should either have found a conclusive demonstration for the proposition he was considering or elsehave shown that the Question had no place in a (tenonstrative Ockham's probabilism could only lead to an increase of

science.

doubt and eventually to scepticism. But Descartes' quest for certainty led him to an open break with the Aristotelians and Thamists who still controlled many of the schools. The point of rupture was methodological principle.

13-k)ckham: Studies and Selections. ed. & tr. Stephen Chak Tornay (Open Court Pub. Co., 1936), p. 195 . 132Rule II, Direction of the Mind (Descartes Selections , p .1+0).

According to the Thomists and contrary to Descartes, the same degree

of certainty cannot be expected and must not be demanded in al.1 t.\e sciences. ft. Thomas wrote:

There are some who will not receive anything that is told them unless it is mathematically proved. This is usual with those who have had a mathematical training, because custom is second nature. But it may be also due to the possession of a strong imagination, combined with an undeveloped judicial faculty. Others there are who will not receive anything unless there is put before them some illustration of it that can strike their sense. This, too, results either from habit, or from the predominance of the influence exerted over them by their senses, or from want of intellectual discrimination.... Others, however, there sire who wish that everything offered them should be based on certitude, that is, as the fruit of diligent rational inquiry. This is the attitude of a sound understanding in judging, and of sound reason in investigation: provided always that /such certitude/ be not sought in matters where it cannot possibly be found.^33

St. Thomas describes certitude as "the fruit of diligent rational inquiry," a description with which Descartes would whole-heartedly agree, but when'Thomas adds that certitude should not be sought "in matters where it cannot possibly be found," Descartes insists that such subjects must be removed from the the realm of scientific inquiry. "Only those objects," he says, "should engage our attention,

to the sure and indubitable knowledge of which our mental powers seem to be adequate."-1 ^ The criterion whereby such objects can "...we should busy our

be identified is offered by mathematics:

selves with no object about which we cannot attain a certitude equal to that of the demonstrations of Arithmetic and Geometry."135 ^33in Metaphys icam Aristcrtelis Comment aria , II, Lectio V (Tourini, 1935) P* 113. ^^Bule II, Direction of the Mind. Eeton, p.UO). I35lbid. . p. b i * . (Descartes Selections, ed.

Descartes identifies certitude of rational inquiry with certitude arising from the evidences of mathematical proof, l i e was convinced

that certitude is given by the light of human wisdom which is identical i r v all the sciences so that certitude cannot vary according to the subject matter. He believed that unless un object could be known "The sciences,"

with certainty it could not truly be known at all.

he says, "taken all together are identical with human wisdom, which always remains one and the same. however applied to different subjects, and suffers no more differentiation proceeding from them than tne light of the sun experiences from the variety of the thing which it illumines...."136

The contrast between the methodologies of St. Thomas and of Descartes brings to light the really remarkable change in fundamental point of view to which Descartes was led through his quest for certainty. The Thomists had begun with existence; Descartes

begins with thought, human wisdom, the undifferentiated light of reason. The Thomists tried to strike an identity between thought

and thing, but confessed that the certitude of the identity varied with the subject matter. Ninlas of Cusa had observed that

if perfect identity had been possible there could be no distinct kDwledge of things, since everything would blend in an ultimate one. He had further observed that perfect identity was impossible, and had concluded that as a consequence every judgment is an approximation I36itid., pp. 3839. Italics mine.

H*5

to the truth which is always susceptible of infinitely greater accuracy so that perfect truth is beyond the power of human knowledge. Thus for Nicolas all human wisdom contains an element of uncertainty. Descartes, beginning with the natural light of reason, claims that some things are known completely and with absolute certitude. He

observes further that these fundamental truths can be made to yielda knowledge of innumerable propositions equally complete and cert ;in. As a consequence, he takes as the subject matter of science only those objects which can be known in a perfectly certain manner, and he rules out of the sphere of science everything that depends solely upon human experience apart from the full exercise of the discourse of reason: for instance, he rejects subjects like language, history,

geography, and, in general, everything dependent upon experience alone.137 Thus, Descartes' idea of a method which could lead to certainty in philosophy and natural science necesaarf|y led him to oppose the uncertainties, careless enthusiasms, and outright scepticism of the renaissance. By insisting upon scientific method as he conceived

it, he broke with the Middle Ages, with the Renaissance naturalists, and with RexsLssance scepticism. In his search for certainty he both

relied upon and modified Platonic mathematicism, August in ian analysis, and Anselmian ontologism. For Plato scientific certitude had been best exmplified in the mathematics which he made a required study for all those who wished

^37cf. La Recheyche de la Verite par la fcilere Naturelie, Adams and Tannery, Oeuvres de Descartes, X, 502-03.

to study at the Academy.

The Neo-platonists did not emphasize

mathematics as Plato hud done, and anon,:; the renaissance Platonists Nicolas of Cuea alone made mathematics the foundation of u philosophical system; and with Nicolas mathematical entities were regarded simply us a starting point in a system of infinite analogy.

The renaissance astronomers and physicists, Copernicus,

Kepler, and Galileo, by making quantity the key concept in their investigation of nature and mathematics the principal instrument of their methods of discovery, had reverted from an Aristotelian and scholastic physics to a Pythagorean and Platonic interpretation of nature, although they had gone beyond the Plato of the Tlmaeus in their confidence that the mathematical interpretation of natural quantity constituted certain knowledge rather than probability.^38 Descartes' invention of analytic geometry was an enormous improvement upon the mathematics which had already served the Platonic physicists so well, and it is little wonder that Descartes hoped that his generalized mathematics might be the clue to a universal method of science. But Bescartes was a philosopher as well as a mathematician

and physicist, and he seems almost at once to have hoped or dreamed that his method in mathematics would be adapted to both physics and metaphysics to yield the same kind of certainty in these sciences as in mathematics. It is important to notice that Descartes felt

that his mathematical method had to undergo certain adaptations in order to be applicable to the other sciences: like Plato, Descartes

133cf. E . A . Burtt, The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science revised ed. (New York:: Anchor Books, 195^)> PP. 36-lo5T

l l + 7

regarded mathematics as a hypothetical science dealing with essences and scarcely inquired "whether or not these ^re really existent," vnerenc metaphysics and physics were categorical sciences dealing with essences that exist. In the Rules for the Direction of the Mind

he tells us that nis method is quite different from ordinary mathematics:

For I should not think much of these rules, if they had no utility save for the solution of the empty problems with which Logicians and Geometers have been wont to beguile their leisure; my only achievement thus would have seemed to be an ability to argue about trifles more subtly than others. Further, though much mention is here made of numbers and figures, because no other sciences furnish us with illustrations of such self-evidence and certainty, the reader who follows my drift with sufficient attention will easily see that nothing is less in my mind than ordinary Mathematics, and that I am expounding quite another science, of which these illustrations are rather the outer husk than the constituents. Such a science should contain the primary rudiments of human reason, and its province ought to extend to the eliciting of true results in every subject. To speak freely, I am convinced that it is a more powerful Instrument of knowledge than any other that has been bequeathed to us by human agency, as being the source of all others.^39 Descartes also followed Plato when he insisted upon the primacy of intellectual intuition in the processes of human knowledge. According

to Plato perfect knowledge was achieved through intuition of the ideas, an intuition which depended in large part upon a deliberate turning of the attention away from sensible perception. Descartes intuition is possible within sense perception. 139Rule IV. ?. 51). Direction of the Mind. With For example,

( Descartes Selections, ed. Eaton,

1U8

in the second Meditation he writes: But what is this piece of wax whichcunnot be understood excepting by the _/understanding or7 mind? It is certainly the same that I see, touch, imagine, and finally it is the same which I have always believed it to be from the beginning. But what must particularly be observed is that its perception is neither an act of vision, nor of touch, nor of imagination, and has never been such although it may have appeared formerly to be so, but only on intuition of the mind, which may be imperfect and confused as it was formerly, or clear and distinct as it is at present, according as ray attention is more or less directed to the elements which are found in it, and of which it is composed.

Plato had insisted that any perception involving the senses could not yield pure knowledge because everything perceived by the senses is "full of its opposite," and is not simple, absolute, separate, everlasting, nor free of increase and diminution. But with Descartes

it is possible to affirm that in a thing perceived by the senses, in this case a piece of wax, there is something that remains the same for the human mind. so that there is something in the sensible world which can become the object of true knowledge. That something,

of course, is extension in length, breadth, and depth, the proper object of mathematical physics. To perceive the knowable in the

sensible world requires no more than an act of intuition directed "to the elements which are found in it, and of which it is composed." To insist upon a radical difference between knowledge and opinion and to demand that knowledge must involve an intellectual perception of a thoroughly intelligible object is clear Platonism; but to insist

^ ^Meditation II.

( Descartes Selections, ed. Eaton, p. lOU).

11*9

that such knowledge is possible of the sensible'world is an .extension and exasperation of Platonism which, as far as I know, no one before Descartes had made. I * , is often said that Descartes honed his rictotelian and ' fhem! s . * '

Principles of Philosophy w raid replace the

texts used by the schools; within the Platonic tradition ho might have hoped to see his PrInciples take the place of Plato's Tlmaeus. Descartes' work did not begin with metaphysics, but with

mathematics and physics.

Eeflection upon his success in these studies

led him to the formulation' of methods he had actuully followed and to which he attributed his success. These attempts to state his own

methods systematically gave rise to what he called the method of Universal Mathematics; further reflection led to the formulation of
a universal method for finding truth in the sciences.

Descartes

has described for us the stages by which he moved from the selfaridence and certitude of purely nethematical demonsimtion to the idea of a universal method. At school he observed that among all his

studies only mathematics demonstrated its conclusions with evident reasons. After leaving school Descartes gave his attention to

algebra and geometry, but he found his mind wearied in algebra by the necessity of remembering complicated formulas and his imagination burdened in geometry by the multiplicity of geometric figures. He asked himself what it was that made these sciences

mathematical, and observing that "those matters only were referred to Mathematics in which order and measurement are investigated, "!*+!

^*%ule TV. Eaton, p. 5*0.

Direction of the Mind.

(Descartes Selections, ed.

150

he concluded that "there must be some generul cclencc to explain that Lement nc a whole which gives rice to problems .bout order and

measurement, restricted as these are to no special subject matter." To this science ne gave the name "Universal M a t h e m a t i c s a n d it wa:: by conccr.tr . . ting o r . general problems, about order and measurement trait ne invented analytic geometry in which he combined algebra and geometry, his success in considering the two as instances of one

special science rather than as separate sciences suggested the principle that the object of all study should be universal wisdom rather than success in special studies.-^3

Had Descartes been content to remain a physicist, his system of universal mathematics would have been adequate for a mathematicalphysics. Such a system would have required no more than the single

hypothesis that physics is the science of order and measurement "in numbers, figures, stars, sounds or any other object that the question of measurement arises:"!^ that is, mathematics is physics But

when mathematics is used to interpret the sensible world. Descartes was ncrt content to remain a physicist.

By the rules of

his method he was committed to search for universal wisdom, if he

l^ I b i d . 1^3Cf. Buie I. l^^Rule IV. p. 5^)Direction of the Mind. ( Descartes Selections, ed. Eaton,

Direction of the Mind.

hoped to discover the c e r t a i n l y did not

principles

of t r u t h s

in the

s c i e nces ,

and he

identify

physics

w i t h the w h o l e

of h u m a n w i s d o m .

Moreover, ophysics whicr. depended upon the hypothetical assumption

that physics and mathe m a t i c s were i d e n t i c a l war. b y d e f i n i t i o n a but D e s c a r t e s ' cpues

h y p o t h e t i c a l r a t h e r t h a n a c a t e g o r i c a l sci ence;

for certainty in science was a quest for categorical knowledge. When he defined science as "true end evident cognition," he meant by "true" -- as he so often does -- the real. He could be no more

content with a hypothetical physics than Plato was with a mathemati which failed to question its own hypotheses. Finally, Descartes wa

aware that many of the axioms

of

mathematics depended for their

validity upon philosophy, but he was more explicitly aware that many of the difficulties in other sciences could only be solved by principles derived from philosophy. part of the Discourse on Method: ...not having restricted this Method to any particular matter, I promised myself to apply it as usefully to the difficulties of other sciences as I had done to those of Algebra. Hot that on this account I dared undertake to examine Just at once all those that might present themselves; for that would itself have been contrary to the order which the Method prescribes. But having noticed that the knowledge of these difficulties must be dependent on principles derived from Philosophy in which I yet found nothing to be certain, I thought that it was requisite above all to try to establish certainty in it.^ 5 Thus Descartes was bound sooner or later to work out his own metaphysics, if for no other reascn than to secure the categorical As he observes in the second

Iscourse on Method, .
pp. 19-207

(Descartes Selections, ed. Katon.

ITT

validity of hie. authemticu.1 physics .

h i f t lor 1o ur: drear, to s u p p o s e only f >r

But !t would be underest ;nat in/:

* . : i a t he was interested in mot u p :.y.: ics

Wh:.tever

the r.uke o f .his j h y s i c s .

else the dream of

Descartes in cl u de d , it c e r t a i n l y c Mituir.vd the U o . v - that the . t f t n * . certainty

which one found :r . mathemat ics c o ul d a l s o be achieved in

bot h nhys :cs and metaphys ic z . If certainty was to be established in philosophy as well as in science, the attempt would have to be made methodically. This meant

that the method of universal mathematics must be Generalized to

include all the philosophical sciences.

Descartes found that to

transmute universal mathematics into a universal method nothing more was needed than to change the concept of measurement into the more general idea of disposition. Universal mathematics had depended upon

order and measurement; the new method consists of order and disposition: Method consists entirely in the order and disposition of the objects toward which our mental vision must be directed if we would find out any truth. We shall comply with it exactly if we reduce involved and obscure propositions step by step to those that are simpler, and then starting with the intuitive apprehension of ail those that are absolutely simple, attempt to ascend to the knowledge of all others by precisely similar steps. 1 ^ 6 It is important to notice that Descartes method presupposes experience of theobjects which method is to set in order. He is not an a priori

rationalist and he explicitly conctans "...Philosophers, who, neglecting experience, imagine that truth will spring from their brain like Pallas from the head of
Zeus.

"^7

Descartes was every bit as

p.

5 6

l^^Rule V. ).

Direction of the Mind. ~

(Descartes Selections, ed. Eaton,

^ I b i d ., pp. 56-57.

153

jcc-pt. leal of sheer empirical experience as M a t o was, and yet, *; : e j 1ato, he regarded empir ical experience ac t'no necessary thouph insufficient condition of the discovery of trutn. In ins 1st ing thrt method consists in the order and disposition cf thaobjecltoward which our mental vision must be directed, lescartec deals explicitly with a problem which Plato barely touched on:

the order and connection of ideas.

By giving his attention tc

the specific completeness and purity of each idea so that no idea

could be allowed the slightest admixture of any elements specifically

pertaining to other ideas, Plato at times seems to have regarded the ideas as a set of atomic forms. These forms, apart from being

subordinated to the idea of Good, do not seem to exist in relations of mutual dependence. Yet Plato insisted that the Ideas must be In his practice

seen synoptically in their relations to one another.

of philosophy he did of course make the ideas mutually dependent: he found it impossible, for example, to describe human virtue except throu^i the interaction of temperance, fortitude, wisdom and justice. But h*s methodology and the exercise of the dialectic did not specifically account for the interaction of ideas. With Descartes

clear and distinct perception is from the beginning conjoined with the ordar of perception. The difference in the order of ideas in u given series led Descartes to distinguish absolute and relative ideas. An absolute

idea was defined as an idea "which contains within Itself the pure

1^4

a n d s imole e s s e n c e behind the concept

of w h i c h w o a r e of ::n a b s o l u t e

in q u e e r . " 1 ^ Idea is fairly

I'he m u t h e n a t ic in m o b v ious . in

tr1 , y o n o n e t r y the d e f i n ' t l o n of t h e t r i a n c l e idea b e c a u s e the truth it is nothin.: but t h e triangle;:. contain esser.se

w o u l d be t h e a b s o l u t e of t h e entire question, of

a bout

W hat t lie natr.v-nat leal d e f i n i t i o n Is the w h o l e the

t r i a n g l e d o e s not nay be

s e r i e s "of p r o p e r t i e s t h a t absolute idea of t r i a n g l e

deduced fron the definition:

is t h e p u r e a n d s i m p l e e s s e n c e

of t h e

science

of t r i g o n o m e t r y .

In trigonometry the absolute idea of triangle is "the simplest and easiest of all/' and it enters into the solution of all questions. The relative idea is defined as an idea "which, while participating in the same nature, or at least sharing in It to some degree which enables us to relate it to the absolute and to deduce it from that by a chain of operations, involves in addition something else in its concept which I call relativity."1^9 That is, the relative idea

while participating in the absolute essence of an idea also contains something of its properties. According tc Descartes, in the universe namely, God. res ajctensa

taken in its entirety there is only one absolute Idea In the created universe, there are two absolute ideas:

which is absolute in the realm of body, and res cogitans in the realm of spirit. For the sake of limited inquiries the notion of

absolute idea must be qualified to read relatively absolute, "For some things are from one point of view acre absolute than others, but from a different standpoint are more relative."^-50

l^Rule .VI. Direction of the Mind. Eaton, p. 58). ^ ^Ibid.

(Descartes Selections, od,

15<>Ibld.

Descartes was well aware that the ancients had valued

mathematics as a preparation for philosophical studies, but he was not surprised that his contemporaries for the most part neglected mathematics. He was not surprised because mathematics had become

involydand intricate so that enormous labor was required to achieve rather simple results. He concluded that the ancients must have

possessed a simpler and more effective mathematics than that which existed in Europe before Cartesian reform:

But when I afterwards bethought myself how it could be that the earliest pioneers of Philosophy in bygone ages refused to admit to the study of wisdom anyone who was not versed in Mathematics, evidently believing that this was the easiest and most indispensable mental exercise and preparation for laying hold of other more important sciences, I was confirmed in my suspicion that they had knowledge of a species of Mathematics very different from that which passes current in our time.^51 Descartes all but claims that the Cartesian reform in philosophy depended upon a reform in method which was derived from a sweeping reform in mathematics. After Descartes had exercised himself for many years in the practice of his method, he felt ready to attempt to introduce certainty into First Philosophy. With the publication of the

Discourse on Method in 1637 Descartes entered upon the mature phase of his philosophical career, mature in the sense that he began to lay the foundations of a complete philosophy. In lkl he published

the complete statement of his first philosophy in the Meditations. In l6Uh he completed the expos itin of his philosophy and pysics

l5^Eule IV. Direction of the Mind. Eaton, pp. 52-53)-

(Descartes Selections. ed.

156

with the publication

of vi.ich apuy.-i !oc

of . The

. ' ri n clples of

Philoso p h y ,

fir:

treatment

in r e c p o n n i b l e modern

for the concern with epirtomology

Wit:, o ne G r e e k s was the a nd the of de als

i n ns dominated

philosophy.

philosophers of the oeing; according

M . d d l e .-vges,

metaphysics
or

science

to ih

scurtes, metaphysics
an d

first pniloscphy of human

with "the most general

important

principles

k n o w l e d g e ."J-V

There is much of pure Platonism in Descartes' methodology and mathematicisn; in his development of first philosophy Descartes' Platonism is that of Augustine and Anselm. His attack upon the he admits

prevailing scepticism of the renaissance is ingenious:

the possibility of doubt and then undertakes to doubt more vigorously than any of the sceptics had allowed themselves to do. By pushing

doubt to its hypothetical limits he was able to show that there remained something in human consciousness that was certain. Augustine's arguments had become a truism; they had been repeated so often without critical consideration that they had lost their force. The first effect of Descartes' extreme and methodical doubt was to restore the critical conditions which gave significance to Augustine's arguments. There is no difference in the conclusions at whicfyDescartes and Augustine arrived through an analysis of extreme doubt; says, "If I am deceived, I am." am deceived." Augustine

Descartes says, "I exist, since I

Thus far Descartes' argument contains nothing which

^-52rhe Principles of Philosophy. Part I, 75. (The Meditations and Selections from the Principles of Rene Descartes. Open Court ed., p. 173T.

157

was not implicit in the argument of Agustlne. 15i

He

difference between-

the two men lies in the use they make of the certitude they had gained of their own existence. Augustine used his certitude as a confutnt io r . :f Academic ds^ubt, as a proof of the existence of self, as a proof frr the existence of

153Auustine's argument against scepticism based on the certitude of doubt was not original, or at least he was not the first to use the argument. Clement of Alexandria had already stated it in all its essentials. In Chapter 5* Book VIII of the Struanta Clement wrote:

Supoose the Pyrrhonian suspense of Judgment, as they say, /lb idea7 that nothing is certain: it is plain that, beginning with itself, it first invalidates itself. It either grants tht something is true, that you are not to suspend your judgment on all things; or it persists in saying that there is nothing true. And It is evident, that first it will not be true. For it either affirms what is true or it does not affirm what is true. But if it affirms what is true, it concedes, though unwillingly, that something is true. And if it does not affirm what Is true, it leaves true what it wished to do away with. For, in so far as the scepticism which demolishes is proved false, in so far the positions which are being demolished are proved true; like the dream which says that all dreams are false. For in confuting itself, it is confirmatory of the others. And, in fine, if it is true, it will make a beginning with itself, and not be scepticism of anything else but of itself first. Then if ^such a man/ apprehends that he is a man, or that he is sceptical, it is evident that he is not sceptical. And how shall he reply to the interrogations? For he is evidently no sceptic in respect to this. Nay, he affirms even that he does doubt. (From The Writings of Clement of Alexandria, tr. William Wilson, 2 vols, II, 50001, in the Ante-Nicene Christian Library. ed. Alexander Boberts & James Donaldson (Edinburgh, 1884). Italics mine. Since this passage occurs in a chapter given largely to a summary exposition of logic as an instrument for the discovery of theological and philosophical truth, a summary which draws upon contemporary logical doctrines, it is quite possible that Clement Is simply repeating an argument against the sceptics which suggested itself to nearly everyone as soon as they heard Pyrrho's doctrine of suspense of Judgment.

158

Truth, and as the basis for the analogy of the Trinity.

It is clear

that his argument does confute extreme scepticism; it is also clear that his argument guarantees the momentary existence of the mind that recognizes the certitude of its doubt. His use of the

argument to prove the existence of Truth from the perception of a truth is interesting evidence of the Platonic methods of Augustine's philosophizing: having secured the admission that it is true to say

that he doubts or is deceived, he then argues that the existence of this truth proves the existence of Truth, because a truth could not be true unless it participated in truthfulness which is the characteristic of Truth. The analysis of mind to which Augustine

was led in consideration of Academic doubt convinced him that, he knew "without any fantastical imagination thatl am myself, that this I know and love."^5^ Augustine regarded these distinctions in as proof that God did not in the de Tr initate

thought -- mind, knowledge, and love

leave Himself without a witness in the human mind;

he says, "The mind itself, and its knowledge,.. .and love, as the third, is a sort of image of the Trinity; and these three are one, and one substance.155 With Descartes, unlike Augustine, certitude of self as expressed in the cogito became the starting point of a theory embracing the most general principles of human knowledge. According to Descartes'

method, in any given inquiry c a n e must discover the simplest and most civitate Dei, r~, 26. ^ e P. 972. Trinitate, IX, xii, 18. Everyman ed., I, .

33 5

Migne, Patrologia Latina. Vol. k 2 ,

159

curtain truths discover in t h e i r inquiry the

in t he m a t e r i a l s point

e m b r a c e d b y t he

i n qu i r y

in o r d e r t o which owr.

starting

of a s er i e s

of

co nnected truths inquiry. Descartes

entirety will into t he

constitute the

complete knowledge

In his s &ec ts

principles

of human

t:.e p r o po s i ti on, c e r t a i n t ru th. what Descartes he explains:

1 _ t h i n k , therefore connection

1 a m , as his it is

f irst and mos t to u n d e r s t a n d

-In t his m e an s

important

by a f

irst truth.

In

Part

I of t h e P r i n c i p l e s

And when I said that the proposition I think, therefore I _ an, is of all others the first and most certain which occurs to one philosophizing orderly, I dLd not therefore deny that it was necessary to know what thought, existence, and certitude are, and the truth that, in order to think it is necessary to be, and the like; but, because these are the most simple notions, and such as of themselves afford the knowledge of nothing existing, I did not Judge it proper there to enumerate them.l^o That is, for anyone who philosophizes in an orderly manner, beginning within himself rather than from things, the cogito will be the first knowledge he acquires which involves both idea and existence. The cogito is a sort of ontological argument on the level of human c ons c iousne ss .* 5 7

l^^The Principles of Philosophy. Part I, X.

(Open Court ed., p. 13^).

157It is useful to remember that Descartes divides all possible objects of knowledge into (l) things or affections of things, and (2) eternal truths. Things or affections of things have some real existence whereas eternal truths possess "no existence beyond our thought." (Cf. The Principles of Philosophy. Part I, XLVIII.) A truth like, In order to think it is necessary to be," is an eternal truth, objective and valid, but it is hypothetical and has no existence beyond our thought. The cogito. however, involves both essence and existence.

160

It

is

true

''hat

A u g u s t ine

was

led b y r e f l e c t i o n u p o n t he

certitude b ut

of

his

o wn e x i s t e n c e

t o t he

consideration

of o t h er

truths,

Augustine

d id not trike ids

fundamental

trut.ii the b a s i s

of a

methodically expanding system of knowledge. Platonic philosophy

that

It

is

r u le o f

the philosopher must view dialectician.

the

ideas was

synoptically if he is

to be a true

Descartes

siapiy fulfilling the ideal of a dialectic synopsis when he undertook to view every truth in the light of his method. The method

requires that the full attention of the mind be focussed upon simple truths in order to discover what other truths the given trtih suffices to demonstrate: that is, through methodical attention simple truths

may be converted into principles of knowledge. Following this rule of method Descartes asked himself of the first proposition which he knew to be true and certain in what its certainty consisted, and he found nothing in the proposition, I think, therefore I _ am, to account for its certainty except that he saw very clearly that to think, it is necessary to be. He therefore concluded

as a general rule "that the things which we conceive very clearly and distinctly are all true."^58 Even in this celebrated maxim

Descartes had been anticipated by Augustine, who had written in the Contra Academlcos. "Beware lest you think that you know anything except what you have learned at least in the manner in which you know that cane plus two plus three plus four is ten."159 But, again, what

iscourse on Method, Part IV. (Descartes Selections. ed. Eaton, p. 20). -*-59antra Academlcos , II, iii, 9. Writings of St. Augustine, I, 11*2-1+3.

161

Augustine offered as n rule of thumb for restraining dogmatism,

Descartes

incorporated in his

First

Philosophy as

principle of

knowledge, in this way methodically extending a precept of .uJustinian Plutonism. In the Discourse of Mpthod Descartes immediately uses his rule for the tuth of things to prove the existence of God from the fact that he has a distinct idea of perfection. After he has assured

himself that God exists, he is led by the procedures of his method to xfiect upon his new truth to see what other truths he may learn fron it. Through this reflection he discovers why it is that whatever

we clearly and distinctly conceive is true: For to begin with, that which I have just taken as a rule, that is to say, that all the things that we very clearly and very distinctly conceive of are true, is certain only because God is or exists, and that He is a Perfect Being, and that all that is in us issues from Him. From this it follows that our ideas or notions, which to the extent of their being clear or distinct are ideas of real things issuing from God, cannot but to that extent be true. 1 It is often said that Descartes argues in a circle by first using the rule of clear and distinct ideas to prove the existence of God, and by then using the existence and perfection of God to guarantee the rule of clear and distinct ideas. Descartes wasisensitive to

the charge of arguing in a circle, as well he might have been, for what appears to be circularity is a regular process of his reasoning. In the sixth part of the Discourse on Method, for example, in his introductory remarks to the Dioptrics and Meteorics, anticipating

^ Pd iscourse on Method. Part IV. pp. 3^35.

( Descartes Selections , ed. Fat.an,

l e v5

that same of his readers might think that he argues in a circle in these treatises he urges: ... it appears to me that the reasonings are so mutually connected in these Treatises, that, as the last are demonstrated by the first which are their causes, the first are in their turn demonstrated by the last which are oheir effects. 1 1 or must it be imagined that I here commit the fallacy which the logicians call a circle; for since experience renders the majority of these effects most certain, the causes from which I deduce them do not serve so much to establish their reality as to explain their existence; but on the contrary, the reality of the causes is established by the reality of the e f f e c t s . -^l That is, Descartes perceives that A exists. him to see that B exists. This perception leads

Reflection on the existence of B enables Since two different orders are

him to understand why A exists.

involved, the order of existence and the order of explanation, Descartes does not believe that he argues in a circle. If Descartes' system of First Philosophy had been a mathematicaldeductive system, he could not have avoided the charge of circularity, for in a mathematical deduction the sequence Is irreversible and no

theorem which appears later in the series can be used to establish a

theorem which precedes it. The irreversability of mathematical

argument led Plato to reject mathematical method which could not criticize its hypotheses, and to substitute a reversible dialectic deliberately designed to use conclusions to test and revise starting points. Descartes' method in this respect is closer to Platonic If Descartes had used fact A

dialectic than mathematical deduction.

to establish -he existence of fact B and fact B to establish the

^Discourse on Method. Part VI.

(Open Court ed., p. 31).

163

existence Instead an d t he

of fact A, he uses nature

ho would

h a v e v Id a t e d

m n t h e n n t ic a l

logic. of 3 m a t ical

the e x i s t e n c e of B to e x p i a

of A t o e s t a b l i s h t h e e x i s t e n c e the existence of A .

In

A s h e e r root he and

l o g i c riight o v e r l o o k t h e but thePlatonic rubric,

distinction between existence this d i s t i n c t i o n us

oxr lar.at ion, i'he .

dialectic takes we recollect,

its bar;.'::. of

Cocratic existence

always begmi with the question

and t h e n proceeded t o d e f i n i t i o n which could be light of later d i s t i n c t i o n s . mode of r e a s o n i n g

revised

c o n t i n u a l l y in t h e

On this matter, light of t h e it w i t h

the more we vie w Descartes' Platonic dialectic, the

in t h e

less w e w i l l b e while we

inclined to charge

crude

circularity,

even

cannot free

it e n t i r e l y of t h i s

charge. In the Discourse Descartes moved directly from his rule of clear and distinct ideas to his proof of the existence of God; in the Meditations he Introduces the notion of hyperbolical doubt, a doubt which permits him to doubt the rule of clear and distinct ideas. This doubt is discovered by assuming that the world is controlled by a deceitful demon who has the power of persuading us that whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive is true while, at the same time, nothing exists in reality corresponding to our distinct perceptions. Doubt can be pushed no farther than this

for it supposes that the human race Is congenitally insane, or, to use Descartes' taminology, it supposes that the light of reason is deceptive. What is of interest here Is Descartes' interpretation

161+

of the light of reason.

With of PLato

reason

had

been the hic h e s t sense

di v i n e . object

faculty

in nan,

possession

which made faculty

nan

in come

The

c o n j u n c t i o n of this

divine of

with

in eternal
of

gave

rise to the highest form wisdom,

depended

knowledge.

With Philo

Alexandria

ultimate idea

upon in

the conjunction of an eternal object or

A

with human intellect

the divine light.

third

e l e m e n t has

been added to the process

of perfect knowledge.

Augustine, as a Christian, replaced Philo's

divine light with, the divine illumination which is Christ, the inward Teacher. With Descartes we turn again to a two element theory,

a theory consonant with Plato in, so to speak, its naturalistic divinity. By the "natural light," the "light of reason," the

"light of nature," Descartes always means, as he explains in the Principles of Philosophy, Part I, XXX, the "faculty of knowledge given us by God." No doubt this faculty of knowledge, like every

other creaturely thing, needs the concursus of God for its continued existence, but the operation of this faculty is natural, its nature is uncorrupted, and it suffices for true perception of intelligible objects. Man does not need the Light of Lights or a divine illumination to know the finite world;
a

divine illumination is

only necessary to prophets or to theologians who dare speak of the secrets, mysteries, and purposes of God's mind. Yet since the

natural light is the gift of apower greater than man and derives its characteristics from the nature of that pcver, Descartes must

165

s h o w that is a t r u e

this

giver

is n o t d e c e i t f u l . Inst

For. if he c m grounds

s h o w that God

g i ver,

iie c a n r e m o v e t h e

for d o u b t i n g the its proper Judgment

s u f f i c i e n c y of h u m a n j u d g m e n t to a t t a i n t r u t h w i t h i n Units. C o n v i n c e d t h a t his d e f e n s e t h a t its operation of t h e f a c u l t y

of humor.

is s u c c e s s f u l a n d

is e n t i r e l y n a t u r a l , t o Pl.ato,

Descartes clear

b re a k s w i t h P h i l o and Augustine, of t h e t h e o r i e s

reverts

and keeps

of the renaissance naturalists. of

Still, many strands

Augustinian Platonism are evident in

Descartes' thought, and nowhere more clearly than in the ontological bases for his proofs
of

the existence

of

God.

He

offers three proofs for God's existence, each of which is ontological in the sense that each in some manner moves from the idee of God which he draws from his own thought to the existence of God in actual reality beyond himself*. He considers repeatedly bow to

prove God's existence -- in the Discourse, in the Meditations , and in the first part of the Principles; but the fullest treatment is found in the Meditations where each of his three proofs is treated at length. In Part III of the Meditations the first two arguments are given: the first proceeds from the idea of an infinite substance which Descartes is conscious that he possesses to the existence of the infinite substance; the second, from the fact that he who possesses the idea of God exists, to the real existence of God. In ?Ejrt V of

the Meditations Descartes reconsiders the rule of clear and distinct ideas, of which he now has a moral and geophysical certitude, and

166

find:; t h a t h e

is led to a t h i r d is

argument

for G o d ' s

existence,

nr.

argument which Although

their but force is

very

similar to

St. Annoln's.
are

tiu: f i r s t v.-.

arguments in
to

in

sense onto Logical,

scholastic p r o ofs;'

causal
do

and

ah

trad 1 . 1ianal

since

they

start

from

the idea of God,

we m y ,

perhaps

suggest proofs.

their In

composite

nature by calling them causal-ontologicai

recognises

the first argument Descartes

God

that he possesses

an idea of cause
of

as infinite substance, and he asks himself what the The nature of the question presupposes

this idea may be.

as simple elements of its solution a doctrine of causality joined with a theory of ideas. This preliminary problem is resolved vita

the assertion that the cause of an idea must contain in itself formally as much reality as is clearly and distinctly apprehended in the idea objectively. On this basis Descartes concludes that

the cause of the idea of infinite substance is infinite substance itself, and cannot be anything less than Infinite substance. This

is clearly a causal argument, but it begins with the idea of God, and argues to his existence. It was necessary for Descartes to begin

hisproof with the idea of God because he had chosen to base his philosophy on "reasons obtained from no other source than the inspection of our own minds. "^-62 Ordinarily, the causal argument begins from

the world or with the motion, beauty, order, or finiteness of the world; but since Descartes had knowledge of nothing apart from

^ ^Meditations. "Dedicatory Epistle to the Facility of Sacred Theology at Paris," (Open Court ed., p. 2).

h i m s e l f , he a: i d . to b o g i n e i t h e r f r o m one of hie

f r o m h l n s e l f nr

thinking

. . r

clear and d i s tinct

i d e n r , 'hr he lual no

o ther foi

a t a r i In;; :>;>int. Platonic Platonic W

In w i l h d r a w i n t ; into h i m s e l f h o c c a r t e o

Lowed wit:.

p r a c t i c e rui o ld an. k o c r a t e s , but, an he o f t e n doer; elements in hie philosophy,

lie e x . . " . ; : , 'crater tire witxidrawul. for example , of the

ith

Socrates,

Plato, and Augustine,

discovery

withdraw

1 nad sense

for

its

purpose the

through thought

truths which

experience could

at b e s t

only suggest; but with Descartes withdrawal

no

had for its purpose the discovery of truths which had

connection

with sense, in the conviction that the senses were deceptive more than suggestive. In the second argument, Descartes combines his knowledge of himself as a thinking being with the idea of God to ask whether he who possesses this idea could exist if God did not exist. He concludes that without God he could neither be brought into being nor sustained in existence by himself or by his parents or by a combination of partial,; external causes; so God must exist. This second argument is Descartes' closest approach to

a scholastic causal proof for the existence of God. In the third argument Descartes restates Anselm's argument, but he restates it in the context of his own method, and, indeed, as though the ontological argument wore entirely new and suggested to him by his own principles.^ 3 Descartes states his version of

1^3why did Descartes refuse to credit other men who had anticipated him in discoveries which he himself regarded as important? When Amauld reminds him of Augustine's si enim fallor, sum, Descartes becomes chilly. In using the ontological argument he does not mention St. AJfeelm. When

163

he

ontological argument

in t h e F i f t h M e d It a t Io n :

hut n o v 1:' b e c a u s e I c a n d r u v f r o m .my t b o u g h t s t he ide a of an object, it f o l l o w s t h a t a l l I c l e a r l y a n d d i s t i n c t l y y - r e h e n d t o p e r t a i n t o t h i s o b j e c t , d o e s in t r u t h b e l o n g *. it, m a y I n o t f r o m tit is d e r i v e a n a r g u m e n t f o r t h e e x i s t e n c e of. G o d ? It is c e r t a i n t h a t I n o V s 5 f i n d t h e idea of a G o d in ray c o n s c i o u s n e s s , t h a t is, t h e idea of a beir.,j s u p r e m e l y p e r f e c t , t h a n t h a t of fuoy f i g u r e or n u m b e r w h a t e v e r : a n d I k n o w w i t h not less c l e a r n e s s and d i s t i n c t n e s s that a n e t e r n a l e x i s t e n c e p e r t a i n s t o his n a t u r e t h a n tha t a l l w h i c h is d e m o n s t r a b l e of a n y f i g u r e or n u m b e r r e a l l y b e l o n g s t o t h e n a t u r e of t h a t f i g u r e or number; aid, t h e r e f o r e , a l t h o u g h a l l t h e c o n c l u s i o n s of t h e p r e c e d i n g M e d i t a t i o n s w e r e f a l s e , t h e e x i s t e n c e of G o d w o u l d p a s s w i t h me for a t r u t h at l e a s t as c e r t a i n as I e v e r judged a n y truth of m a t h e m a t i c s t o be, a l t h o u g h i n d e e d such a d o c t r i n e m a y at first s i g h t a p p e a r t o c o n t a i n m o r e s o p h i s t r y t h a n tr uth.

he grudgingly acknowledges that the Greek mathematicians had worked out the extremely useful tool of geometrical analysis, he accuses them of deliberately concealing their discovay for vulgar motives. When he mentions Harvey's discovery of the dirculatinn of the blood, he adduces him as an empiricist who seems simply to have confirmed anatomically something which Descartes had already worked out methodically. Descartes' vanity of his own originality is no doubt a partial cause; but another cause may have been extreme consistency to hi^aethod and the significance he attributed to it. The only sources of human knowledge, he would have us believe, are the resources of the natural light of reason and the progressive development of those resources through the one, universal method. Since Descartes does not claim to have invented the method but sibply to-have discovered and stated the method natural to human reasoning, all true discoveries made by the ancients had been made through the unknowing use of the natural light and the universal method. Rather than praising his predecessors, he praised the method which they had used imperfectly, nor could he have in all honesty praised them, since through their imperfect understanding of method they had mingled truth with error in such a degree that it would take more than a lifetime to untangle the good in their doctrines from the false, useless, confused, and evil. Moreover, to praise them would be to lend authority to their names ratheifthan to the reason and method which alone can lead us to understanding. ^ Meditations, Part V. (Open Court ed. , pp. 77_78)*

169

The

ar.Gument

is

stated

with

can:; iderabio e o n f

idencn: wiintover
t o tin o b j e c t

1: :

cle-.rly find d i s t i n c t l y a p p r e h e n d e d an be.lonnn pertain:; to

pertaini.il;:

r*-*xlly

that

object ; e t e r n a l Id e a o f 'Go d; ur gu ed: G d

existence

clear ! . y

:md

di et irict-y

to the iiad

there:' ->re, G o d exist:; an iie Ln c o n c e i v e d . in a be in.; t . l i . j i w h i c h n o t hin,; "renter c a nnot but

; . t . can
an

. .nnelra be

conce i v e d ;

.ouch u b e i n g

exist;t h e r e f o r e ,

G o d exist:;'

he

in c o n c e i v e d .

In D e s c a r t e s '

f o r m u l a t i o n the r u l e of c l e a r Up

and distinct in t h e

ideas has

b e c o m e the major premise. has everywhere

to

tills p clr.t the of

Meditations

Descartes

insisted that

metaphysical certitude of this

rule

depends upon our knowledge

God's existence, and he has already demonstrated God's existence twice, thus twice proving the certitude of this rule. Unless this

rule is metaphysically certain, it cannot be used as the major premise of a metaphysically certain proof for the existence of God. But as Descartes says, "therefore, although all the canclusioi# of the preceding Meditations were false, the existence of God would pass with me for a truth at least as certain as I ever judged any truth of mathematics to be." The "therefore" in this inference

indicates that the conclusion depends upon the conjunction of . the rule of clear and distinct ideas, the idea of God, and the distinct apprehension that existence belongs to the idea of God. Now, if all the conclusions of the preceding Meditations were false, the rule of clear and distinct ideas would lack metaphysical certitude, for the metaphysical certitude of this rule depends on the knowledge

170

thut

God

exists; yot wo m y

no

longer

take

Into a c c o u n t t h e

two

previous ar,tument:;; f o r the existence of God. cl e a r and distinct und distinctly

Thus, the

rule

of

ideas, the

assertion

th at w h a t e v e r

one

clearly
in r e a l i t y of

apprehends is

as b e l o n g i n g t o a n o b j e c t e i t h e r as In e v i d e n t as argument the

does

b e l o n g t o t'nat o b j e c t ,

the truths status

of

mathematics or it

is

not.

this

the rule

is not established, while the previous arguments establishing its status are deliberately excluded. We are left with the assertion
of

that existence pertains to the idea

God, so that God exists,

and this conclusion is as evident as a mathematical demonstration. In short, Descartes has only asserted that the ontological argument is more conclusive than any mathematical demonstration. In closing

the meditation, he adds that because God exists the rule of clear and distinct ideas is true . - ^ 5 Descartes' third argument becomes involved in difficulties which cannot be met with the materials he has included in his text. The difficulties dejnot invalidate the ontological argument, which is embedded in Descartes' reasoning, but do invalidate the conjunction of that argument with the rule of clear and distinct ideas. Although this third argument is most often cited as evidence

of circularity in Descartes' proof for the existence of God and the rule of clear and distinct ideas, our examination has shown rather

if we suppose that all the conclusions of the preceding Meditations are true, then this argument for God's existence, taken in its entirety, is gratuitous and begs the question. For the metaphysical certitude of its major premise depends on the previous demonstrations of God's existence, so that this premise presupposes its own conclusions.

171

that the argument

However, if

boys

either it?'

major

preraise

or

its

conclusion. are in valid,

we grant

(l)

that the preceding Meditations

is v a l i d ,

and

(2)

that the
of of

major premise
of

then we

can

conclude

that
For

the whole the

rule

this part

Mediation V does nr cue ir. a c i r c l e .

God

clear and distinct ideas explains why

why

exists, and There is no

the existence of God explains

the rule is true.

IV of

difference here, as there was in Fart

the Discourse, in the Yet there is no clear

level on which the argument is conducted.

reason why both the above admissions 3hould be granted, and it seems berth sufficient and true to say simply that Descartes' formulation of the ontological argument is invalid. This does not mean that the ontological argument is invalid, but simply that Descartes' attempt to join Anselm's argument with his own principle c f clear and distinct ideas has added nothing to Anselm's work but confusion. For here again we see that Descartes' Platonism is

sometimes exaggerated, and that the extension consiAs precisely in stating a typically Platonic notion in the setting of his method of principles of knowledge, but not always with advantage. According to Descartes the idea of God, upon which the proofs of God's existence are built, has never been in the senses or imagination, and so, consequently, is innate. In general, Descartes

divides ideas into adventitious, factitious, and innate, according as they enter into our minds, or are formed by our minds, or are found in our minds. Descartes' theory of innate Ideas represents

172

the With

l a zt

possible solution
the

1 o the p l a c e

of t h e

Platonic

idcus.

Dlato, the

idear, e n j o y e d an o b j e c t i v e spheres

existence with

in t h e r e y i e n s

beyond

outermost

of the h e a v e n s ; in the m i n d tone

P h i l o and the Descartes o f men.

. 1 1 ; just in inns the provides

ideas rest ed

of Cod;

a final resting

place f t

of t h e m

in the m i n d s

173

II.

Spinoza!e Theory of Method

A.

The plan of Spinoza's complete methodology is projected in the final pages of the Tractatus de Intellectus Btoendatlone.

1.

Reasons for re-examining Spinoza's idea of method.

It is conmonly supposed that Spinoza's methodology is best

exemplified in the Ethics. where he developed his philosophical ideas in an array of definitions, axioms, postulates, theorems and demonstrations. Stuart Hampshire, most recently, relying upon Spinoza's

use of Euclidean demonstration in the Ethics. has Interpreted Spinoza's methodology as an extreme mathematical rationalism. methods of Descartes and Spinoza, he concludes: If therefore Descartes was a rationalist, in the sense that he advocated the solution of all problems of natural knowledge by the application of the mathematical method of pure reasoning, Spinoza was doubly a rationalist in this sense; in fact no other philosopher has ever Insisted more uncompromisingly that all problems, whether metaphysical, moral or scientific, must be formulated and solved as purely intellectual problems, as if they were theorems in geometry. 1 Thus it is Hampshire's belief that Spinoza's idea of method is much the same as Descartes', and differs from Descartes' only in rigor of application. But we may very well ask how such an interpretation of Spinoza's method compares with Spinoza's statements about method. In chapter Comparing the

two of the Tractatus Theologico-Politlcus Spinoza has occasion to remark: If anyone wishes to persuade his fellows for or against anything which is not self-evident, he must deduce his lStuart Hampshire, Spinoza (Penguin Books, 1951), P. 2k.

1 7 * *

contention from their admissions, and convince them either by experience or by ratiocination /ratione7 either by appealing to facts of natural experience /learned through the senses -- per sensus expert! sunt in Natural or to self-evident intellectual axioms. Now unless the experience be of such a kind as to be clearly and distinctly understood, though it may convince a man, it will not have the same effect on his mind and disperse the clouds of his doubt so completely as vhen the doctrine taught is deduced entirely from intellectual axioms -- that is, by the mere power of the understanding and logical order, and thiB is especially the case in spiritual matters which have nothing to do with the senses. But the deduction of conclusions from general truths u priori. usually requires a long chain of arguments, and, moreover, very great caution, acuteness, and selfrestraint qualities which are not often met with; therefore people prefer to be taught by experience rather than deduce their conclusions from a few axioms, and set them out in logical order.^
Here Spinoza Identifies and distinguishes two methods of demonstrative persuasion: one based upon the facts of natural experience learned

through the senses, and another based upon the power of reason to make deductions in logical order from intellectual axioms. This latter

method appears to be:a kind of mathematical rationalism, and Spinoza says he prefers it because dapite its prolixity it Is decisive in clearing doubt from the mind and applies equally to material and spiritual matters. Vhen Spinoza's remarks are compared with Hampshire's, certain discrepancies appear. Spinoza did not believe that all problems of

philosophy must be mathematically formulated and solved; according to Spinoza some problems can be adequately demonstrated by "appealing to facts of natural experience learned through the senses." ^TTP, cap. v. W l , ii, 152. Elves tr., pp. 76-77Spinoza did

175

not believe that problems of philosophy must be formulated according to the methods of mathematical rationalism; according to Spinoz^ doctrines may be demonstrated either by experience or by reason. Spinoza

did not believe that problems must be formulated and solved as purely Intellectual problems; according to Spinoza "if anyone wishes to persuade his fellows for or against anything which is not self-evident/' the mathematical method is the preferable way in which to huve a "doctrine taught." That is, Spinoza refers to the mathematical method

as a method of demonstration, while Hampshire refers to it as a method of discovery. But Hampshire also claims that Spinoza's method is much the same aa Descartes' and differs from Descartes' principally in rigor of application. Spinoza, of course, was a careful student of the philosophy

of Descartes, and first acquired a reputation as a philosopher of merit through the publication of his exposition of Cartesian philosophy. Nevertheless Spinoza did not count himself a Cartesian, and in a letter to Henry Oldenburg he explained that he allowed his friends to publish the Principle Philosophlae Cartesianae only on the condition that "one of them should, in my presence, clothe them in more elegant style, and add a short Preface, in which he should warn Headers that I do not acknowledge as ay own views all that is contained in this Treatise, for I have written therein many things which are the very contrary of the views I embrace; and this he should show by means of an example or tvo."3

3gp. 13. W L , III, Ml. Wolf, p. 1 2 3 . Spinoza remarks about this letter: "In the letter which I sent I emitted this and everything else that is expressed in other letters /~of the alphabet, i.e., italles7

176

The preface Spinoza refers to was duly written by Ludwig Meyer, and in it we may read: Heither should it be overlooked that the assertion which is found in various places, This or that exceeds human grasp, should be taken as expressing the mind of Descartes: it should not be taken as though our author offered it as his own opinion. For he thinks that all such things and others even mere sublime and subtle can be conceived by us clearly and distinctly and can be very conveniently explained, if only the human Intellect is brought to the investlgation of truth and the knowledge of things by a different way than that discovered and followed by Descartes. Here then is a further discrepancy between Hampshire's interpretation of Spinoza's idea of method and Spinoza's stutements about method. Not only does Spinoza not regard himself as a follower of the method of Descartes; he expressly states that Descartes' method is Inadequate, and he suggests that a different method can be found and followed which will bring the Intellect to a clear and distinct knowledge of things sublime and subtle. The very conmon view that Spinozas method

is a radical Cartesian mathematical rationalism turns out to conflict with Spinoza's statements about method; and any interpretation of an author's theory which seems to contradict the author cannot be entirely satisfactory. The tendency to Identify Spinoza's theory of method with his practice in the Ethics, although very common, unfortunately distracts our attention from Spinozas theory of method to his practice of method. The question of practice presupposes thfct the question of

theory has been asked and adequately ansvered; but vhen the theoretical question has not been ansvered, discussions of the practice tend to run

^PFC, Praef.

VVL, IV, 100.

My translation.

177

on indecisively, heaping up rubble which later students must clear away. Wolfs o n , for example, found it necessary to devote an entire chapter (Ch. II, Vol. I, "The Geometrical Method") In his book to controverting the opinion that Spinoza adopted the geometrical method in the Ethics because his mathematical mentality compelled him to. The character Wolfson

of the discussion there can be suggested by a few extracts. first collects the opinions of his opponents:

Many students of Spinoza regard his use of the geometrical method as a logical consequence of his mathematical way of looking at things. One of his early biographers declares that Spinoza had a "geometrical mind" (l'esprit geometre). Erdmann says: "For no other reason than because it is a necessary consequence of the mathematical way of looking at things, the geometrical form of proof is of great significance, even where the proof8 themselves are insipid and marred by Inaccuracies." Freudenthal maintains that "it was not therefore a capricious notion, which might as well have been dispensed with, that made Spinoza style his system Ethlca Ordine Geomatrico Demonstrate; on the contrary, the method called for in the title follows from the inner necessity of his thought." And Joachim concludes that "the form of Spinoza's exposition is essential to its matter. He casts his system in a geometrical mould, because the subjectmatter, as he conceives it, demands such treatment. "5 Clearly these interpreters have identified Spinoza's theory of method with the practice he followed in the Ethics. But theory and practlee are not identical, and although practice can exemplify and imply theory, it cannot explain it. Wolf son elaborates a complex refutation of the position of his opponents,'instead of pointing out that they failed to settle the theoretical question of what Spinoza meant by philosophical method before they went on to ask why he used geometrical method in the Ethics. The refutation is eunsnarlzed by Wolf son as follows:

^Wolfson, I

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But lot us consider all the facta in the case and see whether there really is any ground for the assumption that the nature of Spinoza's philosophy demanded that it should be written in the geometrical form. The points which we shall try to establish are as follows: (l) Both Descartes and Lodewijk Meyer make a distinction between the geometrical method of demonstration, which may be either synthetic or analytic, and the geometrical form of literary exposition, which, whether synthetic or analytic, is to be modelled after.the literary form of Euclid's Elements. (2) The geometrical method of demonstration of the synthetic type is nothing but valid syllogistic reasoning as practised throughout the history of philosophy. (3 ) The geometrical method of demonstration, whether synthetic or analytic, need not necessarily be written in the geometrical literary form, and, conversely, the use of the geometrical literary form is not determined by the subject-matter of which it treat s. ( 1 ) Spinoza's mathematical way of looking at things means only the denial of design in nature and freedom in man, and this need not necessarily be written in the geometrical literary form. The principal argument used by Wolf son is that nothing in any system of thought demands a particular form of written expression. We have

already seen that Spinoza himself regarded the choice between two forms of demonstration, moral or mathematical, as open; that he felt that each form of demonstration had particular values, but that he generally preferred the mathematical type of demonstration. preference is not necessity, and Wolfson's principal argument conforms with Spinoza's expressions on the subject. Wolfson's second and fourth points suggest, however, that Spinoza had no distinctive theory of method. Tet in asserting Tet

^Wolfson, I, * * 5 *

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that Spinoza's mathematical way of looking at things means only the denial of design in nature and freedom in man, Wolfson overlooks Spinoza's frequent use of the word "mathematical" in connection with certitude of belief. For example, Spinoza writes in the Tractatus

Theologico-Politicus that "...the certitude afforded to the prophet by signs was not mathematical {i.e., did not necessarily follow from the perception of the thing perceived or seen), but only moral,...
Here "mathematical" is used to designate eplstemological certitude and the distinction between moral and mathematical certitude parallels that drawn between demonstration based upon sense experience and demonstration based upon deductive reasoning from intellectual axioms in a logical order. Spinoza meant by "mathematical" something more

than denial of design in nature and freedom in man, for he clearly uses the term in eplstemological contexts. Wolf son does seem right,

hcwever, in denying that mathamticism had such a compulsive grip cm Spinoza's mind that he was forced to write in the Euclidean manner. Wolfson's belief that Spinoza had no distinctive theory of method, like Hampshire'8 that his method was wholly Cartesian, is at variance with some of Spinoza's statements in his writings. We know from

the preface to the Principle Philosophise Cartesianae that Spinoza was dissatisfied with Cartesian methodology and spoke of a method which

7TTP, cap. ii.

W L , II, 110.

Elwes tr., I, 29-

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could lead the mind to a knowledge of the most Bublime and subtle things. In BooJ* II of the Ethics he attributes the confusion characteristic of philosophers to their Allure to follow a proper order in philosophizing:
f

. I believe that the cause of this confusion is that they have not observed a proper order of philosophic study. For although the divine nature ought to be studied first, because it is first in the order of knowledge and in the order of things, they think it last, while, on the other hand, those things which are called objects of the senses are believed to stand before everything else. Hence it has coae to pass that there was nothing of which men thought less than the divine nature while they have been studying natural objects, and when they afterwards applied themselves to think about God, there was nothing of which they could think less than those prior fictions upon which they had built their knowledge of natural things, for these fictions could in no way help to the knowledge of the divine nature. It is no wander, therefore, if we find them continually contradicting themselves. To determine the proper order of philosophic study would certainly be an important pert of philosophic method. Here Spinoza insists upon

right order, and consequently on right method, since like Descartes he treats order and method as almost synonymous. He also indicates

that right order consists in beginning with God rather than with objects of sense. This concept of right order is similar to the distinction

between the tvo ways of persuasion we noted above, for the order of moral persuasion is dependent upon things of sense and the order of mathematical persuasion is dependent upon Intellectual axioms. This concept of order

seems also to differ from what Wolfson calls "valid syllogistic reasoning," for valid syllogistic reasoning can and frequently does begin with

%,

II, 10, Sc hoi. to Cor.

W L , I, 81.

White tr., p. 87 .

181

generalizations Induced from experience, whereas Spinoza would begin from "the divine nature." It is not part of valid syllogistic reasoning to

insist, as Spinoza does, that unless philosophy begins from God it will end in confusion, since God is first In the order of knowledge and in the order of things. In the Ethics Spinoza does begin with God,

or, more precisely, with substance which he quickly identifies with God, but he does not explain in that work how the philosopher can acquire a suitable knowledge of God in order to begin his philosophy from a reasoned rather than from an arbitrary starting point. The Ethics Is an

example of philosophizing in the order which Spinoza takes to be the right order; but the example of the Ethics does not explain why the order it follows is Justifiable and necessary.
Some have attempted to argue that Spinoza's theory of method may be nothing more than the arbitrary conviction that philosophy should begin from the divine nature rather than from things. If so, his method would consist

in the adaptation of syllogistic theologizing to philosophy, and its mathematical form would be, as Wolfson asserts, syllogistic reasoning disguised under a Euclidean form to appeal to seventeenth century mathematical taste and to avoid seventeenth centry aversion to scholastic forms. This view occurred to one of Spinoza's contemporaries, Henry

Oldenburg, who, when he heard about the Tractatus Theologlco-Politlcus. wrote: I see that you are not so much philosophizing as, if I may say so, theologizing; for you are writing down your thoughts about Angels, prophecy and miracles. But perhaps you are doing this in a philosophical manner .9 Although Oldenburg referred to the Tractatus Theologico-Pollticus. his remarks can with reason apply not only to that work but to the

^Sp. 29-

VYL, III, 115.

Wolf, p. 20k.

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Ethics unless a real difference can be eho*n between the method of the scholastic theologians of beginning from God and Spinoza's method of beginning from God. At first glance the order which Spinoza followed in the Ethics and the order which St. Thomas, for instance, followed in the Suama appear the same. According to St. Thames it is characteristic of philosophy

to begin from creatures and of theology to begin from God, so that the Sunma, according to Thomas, is theology rather than philosophy. McKeon observes:
It is relevant that this is the order that Aquinas called the theological order, whereas the opposite order is, for him, the philosophic one. Confer the Contra Gentiles. II, "Thus it is that the two doctrines do not proceed in the sane order. For in Philosophical doctrine, which considers creatures in themselves and then leads to the knowledge of God, the first consideration is of creatures and the last of God; but in the doctrine of faith, which considers creatures only in relation to God, the consideration of God cones first, and afterwards that of creatures. Thus the doctrine of faith is more perfect because it is more like the knowledge of God, who in knowing himself sees all other things."^ The significant difference between Spinoza and Thomas, or the scholastic and Calvinist theologians in general, is Spinoza's conviction that human reason, unaided by scriptural revelation, can know enough about God to begin a philosophical account of the universe from the idea of God. He insists that revelation alms not at knowledge but at obedience, He deliberately

As

and that theology and philosophy are completely separate.

addressed the Tractatus Theologlco-Polltlcus to those "whose philosophy

is hampered by the belief that Season is a mere handmaid to Theology, and whom I seek in this work especially to benefit.^^HcKsan, p. 1 7 6 , fn. 20. is mine.)
U 7CP. Praef.

In the preface

(Translation of the pa sage from Aquinas tr., I, 11.

W l , II, 92-

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to this work he announces his conviction that revealed knowledge and ordinary knowledge are completely separate: Having thus laid bare the bases of belief, 1 draw the conclusion that HBvelation has obedience for its sole object, and therefore, inpurpose no less than In foundation and method, stands entirely aloof from ordinary knowledge; each has its separate province, neither can be called the handmaid of the other. 12 Here Spinoza expressly asserts a difference In method between theology and philosophy, as well as differences in foundation and legitimate scope. But that he is particularly concerned to defend

the sufficiency of unaided reason to philosophize significantly is clear from the violent terms in which he points out what he takes to
be the effect of supposing that the understanding is naturally corrupt. For he writes again in the preface to the Tractatus

Iheologico-Folitlcus:

...faith has become a mere compound of credulity and prejudices aye, prejudices too, which degrade men fram rational being to beast, which completely stifle the power of Judgment between true and false, which seem, in fact, carefully fostered for the purpose of extinguishing the last spark of reason!
Piety, great God! and religion are became a tissue of ridiculous mysteries; men, who flatly despise reason, who reject and turn away from understanding as naturally corrupt, these, I say, these of all men,, are thought, 0 lie most horrible! to possess light from on High. Verily, if they had but one spark of light from an High, they would not Insolently rave, but would learn to worship God more wisely, and would be as marked among their fellows for mercy as they now are for malice; if they were concerned for their opponents' souls, instead of their own reputations, they would no longer fiercely persecute, but rather be filled with pity and compassion.13

I2 TTP. Praef. W L , II

90.

llwes tr., I, 9-10.

*3Ibid. W L , II, 8 6 . limes tr., I, 7.

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Clearly Spinoza did not believe that he was theologizing in following an order in his philosophy which began from God. He was persuaded He expressly

that he was restoring reason to its proper station.

distinguishes between the method of revelation and of philosophy, and he clalaw outright that the order he follow* is right philosophical order and method.
It seems beyond doubt that Spinoza accorded the question of rigat philosophical method a fundamental Importance. He complains of Descartes' method; he asserts that a method is possible which leads to sublime truths; he claims to be following a unique order in the Ethics; he clearly distinguishes his method from that of syllogistic theologizing; his own statements about mathematical method do not agree with the assertion that his method consists solely in the application of geometrical method to philosophy; his attitude in philosophy does not seem to be wholly one of "extreme mathematical rationalism." of his claims? But what, we must ask, is the theoretical Justification If his method is not simply Cartesianism, nor

mathematical rationalism, nor a disguised form of syllogistic reasoning, nor an application of theological syllogizing to philosophy if it is none of these, what is it?

2.

Spinoza's theory of method and the Tractatus de Intellect us Emendatlone.

We can farm an interpretation of Spinoza's theory of method either by inferring from Spinoza's practice in the Ethics, assuming

185

that the example of the Ethics conforms to the theory It exemplifies, or by reading Spinoza's own account of his method. The second

alternative, of course, is preferable to the first, for an interpretation based upon Spinoza s account would rest upon direct evidence. Since among Spinoza's extant writings only the

Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatlone deals at length with the problem of method, we must turn to it for whatever evidence it can supply, adding to this whatever supplementary evidence we find in his other works.
Ifcis treatise was first published in 1677> the year Spinoza died. It was one of the works gathered together into the Opera

Posthi by friends who resolved togLve to the public a definitive edition of Spinoza's important, previously unpublished writings. Although Spinoza began the tr"eatise around l6 6 l, he mrer completed it. The editors of the Opera Posthuaa drew attention to its

incompleteness and explained that Spinoza had always intended to finish it, but had been prevented by the magnitude and difficulty of the subject, by preoccupation with other affairs, and finally by his untimely death. The first several pages of the Treatise contain some

of Spinoza's noblest prose, but much in the remainder is disconnected and vaguely phrased, and gives the impression of being a first draft. The tart as we have it falls into three parts: an introductory

section, largely autobiographical, in which Spinoza states the aim of all his philosophizing; a second section discussing the general nature of the method required by his aims in philosophy; and flaally

186

the section dealing with the method itself.

This la6 t section, as

Spinoza outlined it, was to contain three or four parts, but the text fails shortly after the sec,ond part has been introduced. The labor spent in establishing the text has been enormous, and hus culminated in the Heidelberg edition of 1925 by Carl Gebhardt, who has appended a Bumnary of textual difficulties and of variant readings and interpretations. Even in Gebhardt's edition, readings Critical studies of the over-all

in several passages remain doubtful.

design of the Treatise and its place in the whole of Spinoza's philosophy are fewer and later than the textual studies, and only began to b seriously made at the turn of the century.^

The testimony of the editors of the Opera posthuma that Spinoza always intended to complete this treatise on method seems to be confirmed by Spinoza himself, who in a letter written to Tschlmhaus in 1675 (Ep. 60) said that his views on method had not yet been written out in proper order, and implied that he was working on such an arrangnent and hoped to complete It. Presumably he was

still seeking thiB final arrangaent when, two years later, he died.

W&T.

l**One of the earliest and most influential was Freudenthal1 s beief analysis In his Spinoza. Leben und Lehre. I, 105-112. Other studies which follow Freudenthal more or less closely are: C. Bebhardt, Splnozas Verhandlung uber die Verbesserung des Verstandes (Heidelberg, 1905;i A. Wolf, Spinoza ' a Short Treatise (Lonjgon, 1910), pp. lxl and cxxlli ff.; and H. H. Joachim, Spinoza's Tractatus de Intellect us Bmendat lone (Oxford, 19lt0). The earliest study is I. Elbogen, Per Tractat de Intellectus Smendatlone undseine SteHung in der Philos ofale Splnozas (Breslau, 1 8 9 8 ). Interpretations differing from Freudenthal may be found in B . McKeon, The Philoaphv of Spinoza (New Tork, 1928); A. Darbotx, Etudes Spinozlstea (Paris, 19eo); and D. Bldney, "Joachim on Spinoza's Tractatus de Intellectus Emendations," Philosophical Review, LI (January, 19^2), pp.

187

Spinoza'8 failure to fulfill his intention compels the scholar to conjecture that his intentions may huve been. iinswerB have been given to this question. In general two

The first, supplied by

Freudenthal, nas received general acceptance and has been amplified and restated in turn by Gebhardt, Wolf, Joachim, Hampshire, and Parkinson. Parkinson, the latest exponent, has expressed the view

in a neat suHiary:
It /the Tractatus de Intellectus Emendations, referred to hereafter as the TDIE/ was intended to form the first pert of a two-part work (Ep. 6 , p. 98), which was to cover both theory of knowledge and metaphysics. The Short Treatise appears to have been a rough draft of the second part of this proposed wark.^-5 The evidence for this view (which 1 shall refer to as the Freudenthal theory In honor of the scholar who first advanced It), is found In Spinoza's sixth epistle, to Oldenburg, where Spinoza writes: Vith regard to your new question, namely, how things began to be and by what bond they depend on the first cause, I have written a whole booklet on this subject and also on the Improvement of the Understanding /capitals not in autograph7, and I have been engaged on copying it out and improving it. But sometimes I leave the work since I have-not yet any definite plan for its publication.^ Freudenthal took the phrase "about the Improvement of the Understanding" to refer to the Tractatus de Intellectus Emendations which ve possess,

and heargued that the TDIE was, consequently,

opusculum that Spinoza mentions.

one part of the complete

He concludes that the treatise we

possess is a fairly complete account of Spinoza's methodology and was to be followed by a section on metaphysics, possibly the Short Treatise. Parkinson, p . fn. 7 .

l6Ep. 6 . W L , III, 25 . Wolf,

p. 98.

188

If we accept Freudenthal' s theory, we may conclude that the materials supplied by the TDIE In its present form are a fair basis for discovering Spinozas complete idea of method. When on this

assumption we attempt to work out Spinoza's idea of method we find that the TDIE tells us to regard Nature as a deductive system and to sumnarize what is known of that system. Attempting to do this,

we find natural science dissolving into metaphysics, and metaphysics into the limited sphere of Spinoza's personal concern with salvation. On the assumption of Freudenthal's theory that the present TDIE 1b fairly complete, Spinoza's methodology turns out to be rather thin. This is theview which Parkinson attempts to smtain, for he writes: .. .the 'second part' of the TDIE consists in the main of a generalized account of the deductive system which he _/Spinota7 holds to be true. His methodology, therefore, turns out to be somewhat thin. All that he is able to do is: (i) To direct the researcher to treat Nature as as a deductive system. (ii) To stsmsarize what is known of this system. And when this is attempted, Spinoza's methodology shades off into an account of what he thinks the universe is like, and so becomes hard to distinguish from his metaphysics. Such, in outline, is the view of Spinoza's method which is to be sustained in what follows.^7 The cruz ofParkinson's interpretation, of course, is the supposition that the TDIE in its present form offers a method to be followed in natural science. Our best support for this supposition

comes from the complete title that Spinoza hhself gave to the treatise

A Treatise of the Emendation of the Intellect and of the Way in which

the Intellect is best guided to a True Knowledge of Things. The first

part of the title promises a method for improving our understanding; the second part, a method for discovering the truth about things. And

l7Parkinson, p. 21.

169

since the treatise is assumed to be fairly complete, its exposition must Include an account of empirical methodology. But if these

assumptions are correct, Spinoza's methodology is the one great failure of an otherwise astute philosophical mind. The other scholarly opinion on the relative completeness or incompleteness of the TDIE argues, against the Freudenthal theory, that the' TDIE was not the opusculum referred to in Epistle 6, and was not intended to be one brief part of a two-part essay on method and
metaphysics, but rather that it was always intended to be a comprehenste work on methodology. Exception to the Freudenthal

theory that Epistle 6 refers to the TDIE was taken by Professor McKeon in 19291 vho in The Philosophy of Spinoza. contradicted Freudenthal, and in a footnote argued: The supposition that the reference Jot Epistle 6j is to the Treatise on the Correction, of the nnda m t H n ding is based entirely on the similarity of an expression in the letter to the title of the treatise. Certainly the description fits the Short Treatise better, since the Correction of the Understanding does not cmbaln a description of T r how things began to be and by what bond they depend on the first cause; the Short Treatise does, and chapters XXI and XXII of Part II might well be thought to describe specifically the correction of the understanding; the phrase de emendations intellectus might easily hare occurred to him Independently of the precise ideas which he was to write in the treatise which bears that name .^ 8 McKeon's argument suggests strongly that the Short Treatise fits the description of Epistle 6 , but does not prove that the TDIE might not have been meant as part of a two-part work containing both the TDIE and the Short Treatise.

^McKeon, p.

J k .

190

In 19l2 Professor Bidney made a detailed study of the arguments of the Freudenthal group, especially as they had been amplified by Gebhardt and Joachim, and he concluded: "It seems much simpler

and begs fewer questions to accept the assertion of the editors of the Opera Posthuma that Spinoza always intended to finish the 'IDLE as a separate logical treatise."1^ What is the case against the Freudenthal theory? Epistle 6 was

written to Henry Oldenburg, Secretary of the Royal Society, who was anxious to publish or to have published whatever works Spinozu had completed. Spinoza tells Oldenburg that he has completed (composul)

e u i entire little work (Integrum opusculum) about the existence of things and their relation to the firstcause and also about the emendation of the intellect (de eaendatione intellectus). It is unlikely that

Spinoza would tell the Secretary of the Royal Society that he had ready for publication a work which was not complete at least in rough draft. The editors of the Opera Posthuma, who knew Spinoza, state

that the TDIE is manifestly incomplete and that Spinoza always intended to complete it. In the letter to Tschimhaus in 1675 (Ep* 60) Spinoza

himself says that he has not yet worked out his ideas on method in an orderly arrangement. The fact that the TDIE is incomplete makes it

appear unlikely that it was the work, or part of the work,referred to in Epistle 6. Some of the supporters of the Freudenthal theory,

especially Gebhardt and Wolf, say that the capitalized initials in the phrase de emendatlone intellectus suggest the title of a work 19D. Bidney, "Joachim on Spinoza's Tractatus de Intellectus Emendat lone." Philosophical Review. LI (January, 19^2), p.52.

191

which most likely would be the TDIE, but in the autograph letter the phr'is# is not capitalized; and the order
of

words in the phrase

is

the reverse of the order of words in the title of the TDIE.^0 the Short Treatise Is an entire little work which could, when Epistle 6 was written, have been ready for publication with

Now

only a little polishing, and it fits both parte of the description in Epistle 6 , for Part I of the Short Treatise does describe "how things began to be and by what bond they depend on the first cause," and Fort II has much to say about the emendation of the intellect, since, as Bidney observes, "it deals with the modes of human knowledge (ch. 1 and 2 ), the origin of the passions and their relation to opinion (chs. 3 bo 14), the nature of the true and the false (ch. 15), the power of reason (ch. 21 ), true knowledge and regeneration (ch. 22 ), etc ."21 it begins to seem likely that the reference in Hpistle 6

was to the Short Treatise ratherthan to the TDIE, and therefore that the TDIE may be taken as an independent work. The principal argument of the Freudenthal group against the idea that the TDIE was meant to be a separate work on method and logic is based on "Spinoza's assertions in the footnotes to the TDIE that he intended to develop certain points dealing with ethical, metaphysical and eplstemological questions later on his*philosophiat."22 Gebhardt

As Bidney points out (op. cit., p. 48) the autograph of Epistle 6 "may be seen in W. Meijer's Collection of Facsimiles of Spinoza's Letters (The Hague, 1903) or on p. lx of Wolf's edition of the Short Treatise." ^^Bidney, p. 53 * 22cf. Bidney, pp. 48-52.

192

especially takes these references to mean that the

TDIE

was to Clearly,

Introduce . . metaphysical work, and even possibly the Ethics. however, if Spinoza Intended the
TDIE

as

separate work on method,

he would right ly have referred non-methodological questions to other works. Besides, if the second part of an opusculum was to

answer all the questions referred to It by Spinoza, the resulting work would be so large that Spinoza could hardly have called it a little work. Again, of course, the evidence of the editors of the

Opera Posthuma is that Spinoza intended to complete the TDIE, while Spinoza in Book II of the Ethics (II, hO, Schol. l) says he reserves questions on logic and method for treatment in anotherwork, and to Tschimhaus in 1675 (Ep. 60) sya that the work has not yet been finished in an orderly fashion.
For these reasons the second postion seems stronger than the first, and it becomes tenable to take as a working hypothesis for our investigation that the TDIE was intended to be a complete work on method. On this assumption, then, let us attempt to develop a what was the theory of method

tentative answer to the question:

Spinoza intended to expound in the completed treatise?

3-

Spinoza's plan for a complete methodology.

Having postulated that Spinoza intended the Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatlone to be a complete treatise on the problems of method, we

193

oust next decide whether the fragment we possess contains evidence suggesting now Spinoza planned to complete the treatise. Luckily,

he did in several places digress from the material he had under discussion to anticipate and discuss briefly questions he intended to treat acre fully in their proper places later on. These

interruptions enable us to form sane idea of the problems Spinoza thought should be included in a treatise on methodology and, consequently, enable us to form an idea of Spinoza's projected idea of a complete methodology.

The most significant anticipations of later discussions occur in the last several pages of the present text, beginning with the paragraph in which Spinoza observes that the possibility of investi gating particular natural objects (res singulares metablies) successfully requires a knowledge of eternal laws. He writes:

It would be impossible for human infirmity to follow up the series of particular mutable things, both on account of their multitude, surpassing all calculations, and on account of the infinitely diverse circumstances surrounding one and the same thing, any one of which may be the cause for its existence or non-existence. Indeed, their existence has no connection with their essence, or (as we have said already) is not an eternal truth. Neither is there any need that we should understand their series, for the essences of particular mutable things are not to be gathered from their series or order of existence, which would furnish us with nothing beyond their extrinsic denominations, their relations, or, at most, their circumstances, all of which are very different from their inmost essence. This inmost essence / Intlma essentia/-must be sought solely from fixed and eternal things, and from the Lears, inscribed (so to speak) in those things as in their true codes, according to which all particular things take place and

19b

are arranged; nay, these mutable particular things depend so intimately and essentially (so to phrase it) upon the fixed things, that they cannot either be or be conceived without them .23 Several things are clear from this passage. Spinoza believes that

natural science should seek to discover the inmost essences of natural things, and he lelleves that this knowledge is quite different from a knowledge of the circumstances in which things exist. Since human

knowledge of circumstances is always limited, definite knowledge of the inmost essence of particular things must somehow be sought from the fixed and eternal things which determine how particular things occur and are arranged. How then, we might ask, does he propose to He contines:

discover the inmost essences of natural objects?

...there seems to be no small difficulty In arriving at the knowledge of these particular things, for to conceive them all at once would far surpass the powers of the human understanding. Hie arrangement whereby one thing is understood before another, as we have stated, should not be sought from their series of existence, near from eternal things, for the latter are all by nature simultaneous. Other aids are therefore needed besides those employed for understanding eternal things and their laws; however, this is not the place to recount such aids, nor is there any need to do so tint11 we have acquired a sufficient knowledge of eternal things and their infallible laws, and until the nature of our senses has become plain to us. 2 * * This passage is at first sight surprising, for Spinoza seems now to say thatparticular things cannot be understood from eternal things. Looking more closely at the passage we find that he has said the order in which particular things are to be studied cannot be gathered from their actual existence, nor from the eternal things which have no aler

23TDIZ.

W L , I, 30-31 . White tr., pp. 33"3^>

2lwCPXE. W L , I, 31 . White tr., p. 3 ^ *

but are all simultaneous.

He concludes that know ledge of eternal laws

is not alone sufficient for progress in natural science, vnich needs in addition an understanding of the nature of the senses and certain other aids.

At this point, we need to know more precisely what lsae=.nt by "other aidB." Spinoza continues:

Before betaking ourselves to seek knowledge of particular things, there will be time enough to speak of such aids, as all tend to teach us the mode of employing our senses, and to make certain experiments under fixed rules and arrangnent which may suffice to determine the object of our inquiry, so that ve may therefrom infer what laws of eternal things it h~e been produced under, and may gain an insight into its Inmost nature, as I will duly show. Here, to return to my purpose, I will only endeavor to set forth what seems necessary for enabling us to attain to knowledge of eternal things...^5 By "other aids" Spinoza means observations, experiments, and the instruments of experiment and he explicitly promises to discuss laterthe rules governing their use, arrangements, andprocedures. used to determine a natural

He alsoasserts that experiments are

object with such precision that the experimenter may relate it to the eternal lavs it has been produced under. The decisive element

in empirical studies, accardhg to Spinoza, is the eternal lav that serves to explain how a thing haB been produced and what its intrinsic nature is, and since the right method of empirical studies presupposes a knowledge of eternal things, he puts off his discussion of empirical methodology in order to discuss the method of arriving at

25TDIE. VVL

I, 31.

White tr., pp. 3^~35

196

u . knowledge of these fixed and eternal things. Regurding the foundation required for a knowledge of eternal things he had asserted: As regards the order of our perceptions, und the manner in which they should be aaanged and united, it is necessary that, as soon as is possible nd rational, we should inquire whether there be any being (and, if so, what being) that is the cause of all things, so that its essence, represented in thought, may be the cause of all our ideas, and then our mind will to the utmost possible extent reflect Nature. For it will possess, objectively, Nature's essence, order and union.26 The foundation required for a knowledge of eternal things is the idea of God, the exemplar of nature. Once this idea is acquired,

the mind can deduce from it, in a mathematically coherent sequence, all that follows from it Immediately; and all that follows immediately from God is fixed and eternal. These are the things

which Spinoza claims are "produced by the pure intellect, and not by chance physical motions."27 It is curious that Spinoza hardly

ever discusses the method of mathematical deduction; he aeems to assume that the method of mathematical deduction is known to anyone who has the Interest and competence to follow his discourse, and it is for this reason that an analysis of his actual practice is necessary. His concern here is more with the materials of that

deduction than with its methods, and he makes his concern evident in passages like this: When this /the idea of the first thing of all? has been acquired veimll possess a foundation wherefrom we can deduce our thoughts, and a path whereby the intellect,

26tdie. W L , I, 30 . White tr., p. 3 3 .

27TDIE. WL, I, 28.

White tr., p. 31 .

197

according to ite capacity, may attain the knowledge of eternal things, allowance being made for the extent of the intellectual powers.28 Thus f.t r Spinoza has argued that scientific knowledge of particular things requires and presupposes knowledge of the,fixed and eternal, and that this in turn presupposes knowledge of the first being of all. He now identifies the sources which he thinks

will lead us to the idea of this being: If, therefore, we wish to investigate the first thing of all, it will be necessary to supply some foundation which may direct our thoughts thither. Further, since method is reflective knowledge, the foundation which must direct our thoughts can be nothing else than the knowledge of that which constitutes the reality of truth, and the knowledge of the understanding, its properties and powers.29 With this comment Spinoza completes his digression on the nature of empirical and metaphysical method and returns to the problem he had been discussing. These digressions tell us that Spinoza was concerned with three distinct problems: how to arrive at a knowledge of particular, mutable

things; how to arrive at a knowledge of fixed and eternal things and the lavs they express; and how to arrive at a knowledge of the first thing of all. They also tell us that the solutions of these three that is, knowledge of particular

problems are serially interdependent:

things presupposes knowledge of eternal things, and knowledge of these presupposes knowledge of the first thing of all. Thus the orderly

development of a complete and universal right method has three phases.

2&HDI35. W L , I, 32. 29lbld.

Vftiite tr., p. 35.

196

Although these phases continually interact in tiny given inquiry and of course :i.ve no fixed temporal order, they cun be distinguished from one another, for the purposes of our analysis, as the anajrtic phase which directs the mind to the idea of the first thing of all; the synthetic phase which seeks to deduce from this idea the fixed and eternal forms; and the empirical-synthetic phase which is the application of eternal forms arrived at by deduction to particular mutable things stabilized by experimental techniques, r or the

present, we must be content simply to label these various stages or phases in method; in what follows we shall treat each phase separately.
The three stages taken together would, it seems, constitute a rather complete methodology, for together they would offer a way of ocming to know God, eternal laws, and particular things. Consequently,

it does not seem unreasonable to suppose that the whole of the three stages constitutes Spinoza's projected idea of a complete methodology. If so, his complete methodology was complex, embracing in its totality analytic, synthetic and empirical-synthetic phases. also complex: The phases were

empirical-synthetic thinking, for example, includes

deductive techniques and all the techniques of inductive science, together with an idea of how inductively determined particulars are best to be related to fixed and eternal things arrived at by deduction. The complete title of the TDIE is Tractatus de Intellectus Emendations et de V i a . Qua Optime in Yeram Rerum Cognitionem Dirigitur: that is, A Treatise on the Improvement of the Understanding and on the Way in which the Intellect is Best Guided tb a True Knowledge of Things.

199

The projected work, whose scope is sufficiently indicated by its title, w.a to have been of the first magnitude. have been referred to as m opusculum. It could hardly

It was to have been a

comment and adequate study of methodology applicable to metaphysics and to natural science. It vus certainly not intended as a brief If completed, it would have

introduction to a study of metaphysics.

replaced the method of Descartes, would have offered a way to arrive at the most sublime things, and would have combined the mathematical approach to problems of natural science, so popular on tne continent, with the empirical approach of Boyle in England.

200

B.

Spinoza's method is reflective knowledge.

1.

The kindr of knowledge.

The object of all science, as Spinoza aqplains at the outset

of the treatise on method, is to arrive at knowledge of the union which the mind has with the whole of nature. Spinoz~ is aware that the quality of knowledge which different minds possess and which the some mind may possess at different times, is various.30 Some of

our knowledge is bused upon hearsay or upon daily experience; some is based upon inference from common notions; some is a direct and immediate perception of essential qualities. Spinoza methodically

asks himself which of these various kinds of knowledge would completely satisfy the mind in quest of its ultimate object. Knowledge by hearsay is indirect and easily cast into doubt so soon as we hear a contradictory report, CleaxV this kind of Knowledge based

knowledge will not'satisfy a scientific mind.

upon daily experience is much stronger because it is direct and personal; but since it is limited by the range of a private life it is cast into doubt so for we have no assurance patterns of the universe. soon as need extends beyond that range, that the patterns of our own lifeare the' The common notions upon which inferential

knowledge is based substitute M l the experience of a group or a people or perhaps even mankind for the limited experience of the

3^For Spinoza's kinds of knowledge, cf. TDIE. W L , I, pp. 7~10> White tr., pp. 7-10; see also B, II kO, Schol. 2.

201

individual; and since such notions are ordinarily formed only after the reports of muny have been compared and contrasted with one another, they are not easily upset or cast into doubt with the sudden appearance of new rumour or contradictory report. V,;iid

inferences from common notions, then, have a wider range and a surer foundation than the first kind of knowledge, knowledge by hearsay or by vague experience. Since of course the value of this

second kind of knowledge depends entirely upon the validity of the common notions, which may be erroneous, such knowledge can be neither ultimate nor absolute and when it is wrong its error will be proportionately more difficult to perceive and destroy. the strength of common prejudice. Hence

According to Spinoza, common they are reliable, he

notions are either reliable or unreliable:

says, when the qualities they proclaim exist equally in each mesber of the group to which they apply and in the group as a whole. Spinoza says in the Ethics. ?Those things which are common to everything, and which are equally in the part and in the whole, can only be adequately perceived.'^1 lead to scientific knowledge. Common notions of this sort As

Knowledge of the second kind, however,

will not satisfy the scientific mind, at least it will not satisfy Spinoza's mind, because common notions do not give the essential characteristics of individual things. As Spinoza says, "That which

is common to everything.. .ad which is equally in the part and in the

3lE, II, 38 . W L , I, 103 . White tr., p. 109.

202

whole, forms the essence of no individual thing."32

What Opinozt

seeks is essential knowledge of individual things either temporal or eternal; this is the third kind of knowledge, knowledge of a thing through direct and immediate perception of its essential qualities. Since Sod, as Spinoz-. assumes. lias essential knowledge

of things and since the human intellect, as he supposes, is part of the divine intellect, it is possible that the intellect can perceive some essential ideas directly. A true method, then, will

be one which can direct the mind to such perception of such ideas.

2.

The concept of method as reflective knowledge.

The process by which the intellect is placed in a position to see essential ideas directly, to gain the knowledge of a thing through direct and immediate perception of its essential qualities, involves the whole of Spinoza1s methodology. The general character

of the method is briefly described by Spinoza in the TDIE; ...it follows that the true method does not consist in seeking for the signs of truth after the acquisition of the idea, but that the true method teaches us the order in which we should seek for truth Itself, or the objective essences of things, or ideas, for all these expressions are synonymous. Again, method must necessarily be concerned with reasoning or under standing - I mean, method is not Identical with reasoning in the search for causes, still less is it the comprehension of the causes of things: it is the discernment of a true idea, by distinguishing it from other perceptions and by investigating its nature in order that we may thus know our power of understanding, and may so train our mind that it may,

32E, II, 37-

W L , I, 102.

White tr., p. 108.

203

by a given standard, comprehend whatsoever is intelligible, by laying down certain rules as aids ^nd by avoiding useless mental exertion. Whence we may gather that method is nothing else than reflective knowledge, or the idea of an idea; and that as there can be no idea- of an ide- -- unless an ' " there can be no method without

In calling method reflective knowledge, Spinoza contrasts it with processes of thought in search for cuuses of things and with processes of verification. The contrast is that when the mind

seeks the true order of its own operations it must direct its attention upon itself and not upon things external to itself. when it seeks the true method ofite own operation does the mind attempt to verify the truth of any of the ideas it already possesses. The search for method presupposes that there is a natural method of operation by which the intellect fmictions, and that this' natural method of operations has always been present in the mind but neglected. To come to know this method by deliberate reflection is Nor

to come to know in a different and better fashion something that always has been known vaguely. Thus the immediate objects of a

search for method are the actual powers in the investigator's mind vhen he turns his attention upon them, together with the total contents of consciousness his mind has acquired as the result of its operations throughout his life. The search for method involves

conscious familiarity with an old acquantance and does not issue in a discovery de novo. Method is reflective because the understanding

33TDIE. 7VL, I, 12.

White tr., p. 13 .

20k

it seeks is an understanding of the instruments and forces native to the mind and the operations which can be performed throughtheir use, until in a progressive order the mind sees how to reach the summit of wisdom. If the method of the intellect were not native

to it andopen to reflection, the mind would be committed to an infinite regress, for it would have to verify that the method it proposed to itself was a true method, and there would be need of discovering a method to verify the first method and yet another method to verify that, ad infinitum. As Spinoza says:

Now that we know what kind of knowledge is necessary for us, we must indicate the way _:nd the method whereby we may gain the said knowledge concerning the things needful to be known. In order to accomplish this, we must first take care not to comait ourselves to a search, going back to infinity -that is, in order to discover the best method for finding out the truth, there is no need of another method to discover such a method; nor of a third method for discovering the second, .and so on to infinity. By such proceedings, we should never arrive at the knowledge of the truth, or, indeed, at any knowledge at all. The matter stands on the same footing as the making of material tools, which might be argued about in a similar way. For, in order to work iron, a hammer is needed, and the hammer cannot be forthcoming unless it has been made; but, in order to make it, there was need of another haunter and other tools, and so an to infinity. We might . thus vainly endeavor to prove that men have no power of working iron. But as men at first made use of the instruments supplied by nature to accomplish very easy pieces of workmanship, laboriously and Imperfectly, and then, when these were finished, wrought other things more difficult with less labor and greater perfection; and so gradually mounted from the simplest operations to the making of tools, and from the making of tools to the making of more complex tools, and fftesh feats of workmanship, till they arrived at making, with small expenditure of labor,

the vaet number of complicated mechanisms which they now possess. So, in like manner, the intellect, by its native strength, makes for itself intellectual instruments, whereby it acquires strength for performing other intellectual operations, and from these operations gets again fresh instruments, or the powerof pushing its investigations further, and thus gradually proceeds till it reaches the sunmit of wisdom.3^ Spinoza's analogy indicates the order which reflection normally follows. In reflecting upon itself the mind seeks first its simple

and native intellectual instruments and operations; from these it gradually moves to a recognition of more complex instruments and operations and pushes on until it can recognize the summit of its powers. Its simple powers are the powers of forming ideas, of

analyzing experience, and of synthesizing the results of analysis. Its primary instruments are true ideas. In the search for method,

the mind begins with analysis, but once a good beginning has been made, analytic, synthetic, and later, empirical, techniques are used in conjunction. Spinoza has described how the mind first

reflectively tests and proves its own instruments to discover intuitively the essential ideas which the contents of consciousness presuppose: method "is the discernment of a true idea, by

distinguishing it from other perceptions and by investigating its nature in order that we may thus know our power of understanding, and may so train our mind that it may, by a given standard, comprehend whatsoever is Intelligible... ."35 reflecting upon it Given a true idea,themind by or,asUpinozu says,

can deduce many other ideas,

3VH)IE. W L
35TDIE. WL,

I, 10.
I, 12.

White tr., p. 11.

White tr.; p. 13-

206

"...we shall infer from these ideas other ideas, which will in turn be connected with others. and thus our instruments for proceeding with our investig-tion will
increase.

finally, the mind by

reflection upon itself and its powers seeks to discover the principle by which its perceptions should be organized. principle, Spinoza tells us: As regards the order of our perceptions, and the manner in which they should be arranged and united, it is necessary that, as soon as is possible and rational, ve should Inquire whether there be any being (and, if so, what being) that is the cause of *11 things, so that its essence, represented in thought, may be the cause of all our ideas, and then our mind will to the utmost possible extent reflect Nature. For it will possess, objectively, Natures essence, order, and union.37 More specifically, method as reflective knowledge is primarily concerned with the recognition, increase and organization of true ideas. Of that

3 . Recognition of a true idea.

The first task confronting the understanding when it seeks to discover by reflection thenatural method of its operations is the task ofrecognlzing which of the ideas it possesses are true; and since, in the performance of this task, it wants to be certain of this recognition, the understanding is compelled to consider the nature of certainty. In his discussion of the modes of perception, Spinoza attributes 36tdie. W L , I, 13.
37TDIE. W L , I, 30.

White tr., p. Ik.

White tr., p. 33 .

indub liability to all four types, cuying:

"...I shall here

recapitulate all the modes: of perception, which 1 have hitherto employed for affirming or denying anything with certainty /Indubie7- TheEnglish translation here is misleading, for to affirm or deny anything induble. i.e. without doubt, 1b not equivalent to affirming or denying with certainty, if certainty is taken to mean, as Spinoz- does take it. certainty of truth (certitudo veri). Thus, for example, judgments based on hearsay or vague experience can be affirmed or denied without doubt, so long as no contrary rumor or experience is opposed to them, but so soon as a contrary opinion appears they can be thrown into doubt and Io b o their air of indub itability. To hold an opinion indub ie is not the same as to posse

a certain judgment. For Spinoza, certainty means certitude of truth. Although this is Spinozas general teaching on the matter, he does not abide by his distinctions in every case, and he does speak of "the certitude which we have from hearsay /cmnem certltudinem. quam ex auditu habemus7...."39 The confusion in words no doubt arises

from the similarity in feeling between certitude and indubltability, but for Spinoza indub itability can be shaken, exists only because the judgment has beenieolated from other possibilities, and has never been seriously reflected upon by a sceptical mind; certitude, however, when taken to mean certitude of truth, by definition must necessarily remain what it is, for no amount of reflection or comparison can make a truth become false or uncertain. 30 m I E . W L , I, 7 . White tr., p. 7* 39TDIE. W L , I, 9. By certitude.

208

then, 8pinoza means the feeling which arises from possession of the truth. What guarantees certitude is not the feeling itself, but rather the fact that the feeling follows upon the possession of a true idea -- or, in hpinoza's words, "...the mode in which we sense /sentlmus? a formal essence is certitude itself."1 4 0

If a person existed whose ideas were all true, he would never have occasion to doubt, and his mind would grow in truth uninterruptedly. Or, as Spinoza puts it in a celebrated passage:

...if 7 anyoeie7 bad acquired new ideas in the proper order, according to the standard of the original true idea, he would never have doubted of the truth of this knowledge, inasmuch as truth, as we huve shown makes itself manifest, and all things would flow, as it were, spontaneously toward him .^1 In possessing a true idea, then, the mind at once knows and knows that what it knows is true, so that there is no need to verify a true idea: one need only recognize it. And true method will not

consist in a system of verifying ideas, or in a way of teaching the mind to look for the causes of things, but will guide the mind in such a way that the mind acquires nothing but an addition of true ideas. But how are ve to recognize a true idea? A true idea, Spinoza claims, adequately represents to the mind the reality of its object; but it is also something different from its object: "a circle is different from the idea of a circle."1 ^

Since a true idee is different from its object, "it is capable of being understood through itself /erlt etiam per se aliquld intelligiblle7."^3

^Ot DXE . W L
1 * 1roiE.

I, 11. p. 15.

W L , I 13 . White tr. WL

42TDXE.

I, 11 . White tr., p. 11.

431bid.

20y

Moreover, he adds, "we have a true idea /tiabemus enlm ideam verara./"^1 ^ Spinoza's parenthetical assertion that we have a true idea is a necessary presupposition of nis theory that method is reflective knowledge, for unless a true idea exists in the mind naturally, there would be no sufficient reason for supposing that reflecting upon tne contents of consciousness would discover a true idea.
In the TDIK the principal Justification Spinozu gives for the natural possession of a true idea relies upon the analogy with natural instruments, which we quoted above. That is, Spinoza

argues that if we did not possess a . true idea naturally, we could never be assured that we do possesss true ideas. But the

cociseq.uence is absurd; therefore, the antecedent is also absurd, and we do have true ideas.

Granting Spinoza that ve do possess true ideas, there remains the problem of identifying them. Spinoza,reflecting upon an

actual circle, observes that the actual circle is different from his idea of th&t circle. Assuming that his idea of that circle

is a true idea, he adds that a true idea is something different from its object. Then he asserts that since it is something

different from its object, "it is capable of being understood through itself"; that it is ali4uld per se lntelligibile. Here we notice a certain ambiguity: a true idea is something (aliguid); but

is it a something in the same sense that an actually existing object say, a circle -- is something? Spinoza's meaning becomes

clear when ve consider his statement in terms of the Cartesian

^Ibid.

210

and Scholastic language which he adopts. The Scholastics and Descartes teach that objects existing apart from the mind possess an essential nature which they call its formal essence, essentia formalis . When the mind forms a true idea

of the essential nature it possesses that essence, not formally, but objectively; and this reproduction in the mind of a formal essence is called an objective essence, essentia obJectivis. objective essence is not a picture in the imagination; it is a concept of the understanding, which reflects, suggests, expresses, stands for or represents the essential reality of the formal essence. Although the objective essence exists in the mind, The mind The

it is not therefore in the modern sense subjective.

regards it as an object, rather than feeling it as part of itself.

Both the Scholastics and Descartes agree in this.

I Now when Spinoza says that a true idea is different from its

object, he simply asserts that a true idea is the objective essence of a formal essence. But when he adds that a true idea is something

in itself, intelligible through Itself, he asserts that an objective essence is a formal essence. In this he and Descartes agree,

like Descartes, he here departs from the Aristotelian Scholastics and adopts a form of Platonism, for Plato had taught that the ideas are formal realities intelligible through themselves. Tet where

Plato had placed the ideas apart from the minds of gods and men, Spinoza finds them in the human mind.^5 In asserting than an

^^rhis is not a doctrine of innate ideas. Ultimately, for Spinoza, all true IdeaB have been produced by the pure intellect. The powers of the pure intellect are native to the mind, and in this sense its pomrs are Innate, ideas ure not innate, but are produced by innate powers.

211

objective essence is a formai essence , Spinoza clearly attributes as much actuality to a true idea i s he does to the essential nature of something existing outside the mind; and thus the apparent ambiguity in calling an idea southing intelligible through itself is resolved. The certitude which the mind experiences in sensing

an idea is the some as the certitude it experiences in apprehending an object apart from the mind, for in each case the mind "senses a formal essence."^6
The methodological advantage of this approach is obvious: our true ideas are formal essences intelligible per se, we can discover them by reflection without the labor of ascertaining whether our ideas do in fact represent objects outside our mind: i.e., ve ellmliiate the need of verification, and substitute a technique of recognition. Ve are assured that true Ideas do if

represent objects adequately because by definition true ideas are ideas which correspond to realities. This part of Spinoza's

discussion of the form of truth depends upon his metaphysical postulate that ".. .the idea in the world of thought is tn the same case as its correlate in the world of reality. "**7 Again, "...the ratio existing between two ideas is the same as the ratio between the actual realities corresponding to these ideas..."** Consequently

if ve can recognize our true ideas and perceive their relations, ve

. W L , I, 11. " sentimus essentlam formalem..." which White translates "...we perceive an actual reality...", p. 12 . ^TTDZE. ^TDie. W L , I, 13 . White tr., p. 1*. W L , I, 12. White tr., p. 13.

212

can reconstruct objectively and without other verification the elements and order of the real world. Spinoza's search for truth But

is obviously realistic in intention and idealistic in method.

one should observe carefully that Spinoza confines this idealistic approach to "true ideas/' and that he has a rigorous notion of a true idea, never confounding a true idea with idle revery of the imagination. As we shall see shortly, thettrue ideas Spinoza has

in mind are principally those produced by the "pure intellect"; the ultimate guarantee for such ideas lies in Spinoza's supposition that the pure intellect in man is part of the divine intellect. To describe the form of truth,Spinoza presupposes that some true meanings exist in the intellect as natural instruments. He insists flatly that we possess a true idea: "Habemus enlm ideam

versa. "1*9 Since, as he believes, we have a true idea, we need only examine a true idea to discover the forma, the nature of a true idea, and then train our minds to comprehend whatever is intelligible according to the standard of the existing true idea. Spinoza first

observes, lt is certain that a true idea is distinguished from a false one, not so much by its extrinsic object as by its intrinsic nature."50 This necessity is, exemplified by the fact that it is

possible to fora a "true" idea before the object of the idea actually exists: for example, the true idea of an artifact or invention, In such

before the artifact or invention is ever actually nTade.

cases the true idea exists in time before its object; when the object cooes into existence, an extrinsic correspondence between idea

^9TDrE. WL, 1, 11.

50TO]B. WL I, 21. White tr., p. 23.

213

and object also comes into existence, but the correspondence, suys Spinoza, adds nothing to the idea or to its truth. Thus it is clear to Spinoza that truth lies in ideas, not in words, and not in the correspondence between words, ideas, and referents. So he concludes: "Whence it follows that there is in

ideas something real, whereby the true are distinguished from the false."51 These various observations underlie Spinoza's doctrine of the form of truth, which he formulates us follows:
. . .thought is said to be true, if it involves objectively the essence of any principle which has no cause, and is known through Itself and in itself. Wherefore the reality ^/forma/ of true thought must exist in the thought itself, without reference to other thoughts; it does not acknowledge the object as its cause, but must depend on the actual power and nature of the understanding. For, if we suppose that the understanding has perceived some new entity which hus never existed, as some conceive the understanding of God before He created things (a perception which certainly could not arise from any object), and has legitimately deduced other thoughts from the said perception, all such thoughts would be true, without being determined by any external object; they would depend solely on the power and nature of the understanding. Thus, that which constitutes the reality of a true thought must be sought in the thought itself and deduced from the nature of the understanding.^ Thus, to discover the reality of truth we must direct our attention not to the correspondence between idea and object, not to any demonstration or experiment, but to thought Itself and to the nature of the understanding. In doing this, we shall be able to 51-TDIE. W L , I, 21-22. Unde sequitur. in ldels dari a liquid / reale per quod verae a fa la is diatinguuntur. White tr., p. 2k.
52TDIE.

W L , I, 22.

White tr., p. 2k.

21*4

discern the differences between true ideas end all other types of perception. opinozu claims that a thinking being can, prime facie, form true and adequate thoughts. But if it be the nature of a thinking being, as seems, prima facie, to be the case, to form true or adequate thoughts, it is plain that inadequate idea's arise in us only because we are parts of a thinking being, whose thoughts -- some in their only -- constitute our min^. He also claims that clear and distinct ideas can never be false: But ideas which are clear and distinct can never be false: for ideas of things clearly and distinctly conceived are either very simple themselves, or are compounded from very simple ideas that is, are deduced therefrom. The principal characteristics of a true idea are therefore that it be clear, distinct, and adequate; the principal faults of fictitious, false or doubtful ideas are confusion and inadequacy. The characteristics of a true idea are sufficient to distinguish it from the principal faulty perceptions -- fictitious, false, or doubtful ideas. Of these latter categories Spinoza tells us: . . .all confusion arises from the fact that the mind has only partial knowledge of a thing either simple or complex, and does not distinguish between the known and the unknown, and, again, that it directs its attention promiscuously to all parts of an object at once without making distinctions....55 It follows then that "...fiction cannot be simple, but is made up of the blending of several confused ideas of diverse objects or actions existent in nature, or rather is composed of attention

53XDIE.

W L , I, 23. I, 22.

"Lite tr., p. 25White tr., p. 23 . White tr., p. 21.

gltTDIE. W L

55TDIE. W L , I, 21.

2 15

directed

to all such

ideas

at once,

a n d u n a c c o m p a n i e d b y any m e n t a l ..iaple w o u l d be cleur

ascent.Further, a nd d i s t i n c t , distinct again,

' ...a f i c t i o n t h a t w as ulao

and t h e r e f o r e true;

a f i c t i o n c o m p o s e d o n l y of and t n e r e f o r e true."-'1 idea o n l y in is, us h p i n o z u

ideas w o u l d be c l e a r and d i s t i n c t idea d i f f e r s implies

the false fals e

f r o m the f i c t i t . o u s that

that the s;ys,

idea

a m e ntal assent;

' ...while t h e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n s

are o c c u r r i n g ,

t h e r e are n o

causes present to us wherefrom, as in fiction, we can conclude that such representations do not arise fraa external objects: in

fact, it is much the same as dreaming with our eyes open, or while a w a k e . F i n a l l y , doubtful ideas are not clear, distinct and adequate; indeed, doubt is not an idea but a state of mind, for, us Spinoza says, ...if there were only one idea In the mind, whether that idea were true or false, there would be no doubt or certainty present, only a certain sensation. For an idea is in itself nothing else than a certain sensation; but doubt will arise through another idea, not clear and distinct enough for us to be able to draw any certain conclusions with regard to the matter under consideration; that is, the idea which causes us to doubt is not clear and distinct.59 So soon as our ideas beoome clear and distinct, the doubtful idea as such disappears. Fiction, falsity and doubt, therefore, involve privation of clearness, distinctness or adequacy. Whenever, on the other hand,

we recognize that an idea is clear, distinct and adequate we know that it is true; psychologically true because the idea we hold hao the characteristics of a true idea; metaphysically true (as we will sen) 5^TDIE. 57TDIE. 58tdie. 59DDES. W L , I, 21. W L , I, 21. W L , I, 22. W L , I, 2h. White tr., p. White tr., p. White tr., p. White tr., p. 22. 22.
23. 27.

216 because we are assured that the idea is grounded in t h e . divine intellect.
'-he principal difficulty in applying Spinoza's analysis of the form of truth is determining when a clear and distinct idea is adequate: that is, determining when the clear and distinct idea we possess is one of the complete thoughts of the ultimate thinking being. Descartes had said that those ideas which are caused in us by But bpinoza adds

a truthful God must be true, and Spinoza assents.

to this various observations to help us recognize when our ideas are adequate. First, he warns that the power of the mind to form true

ideas is not infinite, "For when we affirm somewhat of a thing, which is not contained in the concept we have formed of that thing, such an affirmation shows a defect of our perception, or that we have formed fragmentary or mutilated ideas."6 This is u warning against precipitate

judgment but it suggests that all true judgments are analytic in Kant's sense, since it implies that the pie dicate of a judgment must be implicit in the subject. Of course if the subject were such that

it contained all possible predicates, that is, if the subject were God, then it would be impossible to make a false predications so long as the predicate was clearly and distinctly perceived. Kext, Spinoza warns against conceiving things too much in the abstract, for if we are to say something true of a particular object what we say must be true as it is in that particular object. Particularity is important, "...for it is sufficiently self-evident that what I conceive as in its true object I cannot apply to anyOtng

60TDIE.

W L , I, 23.

WHite tr., p. 25.

217

else." 6 ^ - Spinoza also warns -gainst confusing the primary elements

of nature with abstract rules and advises us to "...proceed with us little abstract ion , : s possible, and begin from primary elements -that is, from the source and origin of Nature..."^ admonition is basic to Spinozist thougnt because: ...since the first principle of Nature carmot (us we shall see hereufter) be conceived abstractedly or universally, and cannot extend further in the understanding than it does in reality, and h . s no likeness to mutable things, no confusion need be feared in respect to the idea of it, provided (as before shown) that we possess a standard of truth. This is, in fact, a being single and infinite; in other words, it is the sum total of being, beyond which there is no being found.^3 Spinoza suggests that the adequacy of our ideas is best assured if
they can be deduced from the source and origin of nature. All perceptions that are not clear and distinct Spinoza attributes to the workings of the imagination in contradistinction to the natural workings of the intellect. The power of imagination

The lot

depends upon the body and the power of particular physical objects to affect the body. As Spinoza says, "...the Imagination is only

affected by particular objects..."6* * and "...the imagination is only affected by physical objects..."^5 He summarizes his doctrine:

Thus, then, we have distinguished between a true idea and other perceptions, and shown that ideas fictitious, false, and the rest, originate in the imaginations that is, in certain sensations fortuitous (so to speak) and disconnected, arising not from the power of the mind, but from external

6 lflDiE. W L , I, 2k. 62 ibid.

White tr., p. 26.

63Ibid.
6M p X E . W L , I, 25.

White tr., p. 26.

65lbid.

218

causes, according as the body, sleeping or waking, receives various motions. 1

He

adds that the understanding has a natural power to free itself

from tie domination of the imagination: But one n.y take any view one likes of the imagination so long as one acknowledges that it is different from the understanding, and that the soul is passive with regard to it. The view taken is immaterial, if we know that the imagination is something indefinite, with regard to which the soul is passive, and that we can by some means or otner free ourselves therefrom with the help of the understanding.67 J 4. Increase of true ideas
Becognition of the characteristics of clarity, distinctness and adequacy which every true idea must have and which all other perceptions In some measure lack, enables one to distinguish which of his ideas are true, but awareness of the form of truth does not in itself enable one to discover new ideas. What then

is the principle that will guide us in the discovery of new ideas, or, to use Spinoza's language, what are "the rules for percettfag unknown things according to the standard of the true idea"? Since the best possible mode of perception is, according to Spinoza, that in which a particular thing, temporal or eternal, is perceived "solely through its essence or through its proximate cause," it follows that the best method of discovery will lead to knowledge of thiB sort, and will therefore require that attention be directed upon particular things, as far as possible, and not upon abstractions, far, as Spinoza says in the TDIE in language that is

68

66TDIE. 67TDIE.

WL, WL,

I, I,

26.

White tr., p. 29. White tr., p. 29.

26-27.

W L , I, 15. White tr., p. 16

219

rather extreme: ...we may never, while we are concerned with inquiries into actual things, draw ..ny conclusions from abstractions; ve shall be extremely careful not to confound tiiat vhica is only in the understanding with that which is in the thing itself.9 hpinozu here reminds us that the principal difference between inferential knowledge and intuitive knowledge, apart from differences of immediacy and directness, is the fact that the latter yields true knowledge of particular things while the former yields common or even universal axioms und nations which must be completed by particular knowledge. Consequently, Spinxa concludes:

The best basis for drawing a conclusion will be either some particular affirmative essence, or a true and legitimate definition. For the understanding can not descend from universal axioms by themselves to particular things, since axioms are of infinite extent, and do not determine the understanding to contemplate one particular thing more than another. Thus the true -method of discovery is to form thoughts from some given definition.TO The discorery of new ideas, then, rests upon the formation of adequate definitions, for the new ideas to be discovered are the properties of a thing which follow frcm its defined essence. definitions Spinoza refers to are obviously real definitions, statements of the essential nature of things, not nominal definitions, statements about the use of words. As for the form of his real definitions, Spinoza's strictures against abstractions prohibit the Aristotelian form of genus and specific difference, since the Aristotelian genera are a kind of abstraction. Thus the The

69TDIE. W L , I, 28-2 9 . White tr., p. 31 . 70ibid.

220

definition which Spinoza would uee as the bus is of discovery i~ a :tl i tcnent in part icul r terns of a particular uf firmat Jve essence; si u i'art icu-ur essence tnat exists formally. "v/herefore . " Spine.:: .

concludes, ."the cardir.ui point of t t 1 1 this second part of method cons 1 : ts in the knowledge of the conditions of pood definition /bonne definitlonfc..7 and the nouns of finding tuem."^ By particular things, one .diould observe, Spinoza always means either particular, mutable things -- the physical objects which affect our bodies and imagination -- or the fixed and eternal things perceptible to nind. Spinoz- says: ^f these eternal, particular things

...these fixed and eternal things, though they are themselves particular, will nevertheless, owing to their presence and power everywhere, be to us as universals, or genera of definitions of particular mutable things, and as the proximate causa of all things.72 In Spinoza's definitions, will then, the place of Aristotelian genera As an

besupplied by Spinoza's fixed and eternal things.

immediate consequence of Spinoza's determination to use fixed and eternal things as genera of definitions, natural order demands a knowledge of fixed and eternal things before a serious attempt can be made to define particular mutable things. A definition to be called "perfect" (perfecta), says Spinoza, "must explain the inmost essence of a thing, and must take care not to substitute for this any of Its properties."73 For, "...the

71TDIE. 7^TDIE.
73TDIE.

WL, WL,
WL,

I,2 9 . White I,31 .White

I.29 .White

tr., p. 32. tr., p. 3^*

tr., p. 32.

221

properties of a thing are not understood : ; o long a : , their essences .re unknown. If the latter be passed over, there rt necessarily a

perversion of the succession of ideas which should reflect the succession cf Nature ,.. . "7^ The Spinozistic ideal of knowledge is

clearly knowledge of iruaost essence (intlma ecsentla, and properties, and the order of ideal knowledge- must move from essence to properties. This order is the one Spinoza everywhere prefers, if It can be found: earlier in the TDIE, when discussing the modes of
perception,

he says that,

...one can only arrive at knowledge of _ thing

through knowledge of its essence,..." and again "...accidental properties are never clearly understood unless the essence of the

things

in question be known first."75

After the essence of a thing the discovery of new

has beendetermined, it becomes a foundation for thoughts, because

...when the mind devotes itself to any thought, so as to examine it and to deduce therefrom in due order all the legitimate conclusions possible, any falsehood which may lurk in the thought will be detected; but if ths thought be true, the mind will readily proceed without interruption to deduce truths from it.i On Spinoza's theory of the best method for discovering new true ideas, knowledge of the characteristics of perfect definition and the means of finding definitions obviously become of first importance,
*

for upon then depends the increase of true ideas.

Spinoza offers

two sets of conditions which a perfect definition must meet, the first governing the definition of a created thing, the second of an 7**Ibid. 75*3)12.
76t D H .

W L , I, 9-10.
W L , I, 32.

White tr . , p. 10.

White tr., p. 35.

222

uncreated thing.

The definiti o n ' of a created thing must comprehend

the proximate cause, and should be such "tint all the properties of taut thing, in so far us it is considered by itself and not in The

conjunction with other tilings, can be deduced from it.' ^

properties thus deduced would be new truths about the thing, and would be truths concerning its intrinsic properties, since they would follow solely from the peculiar force in it arising from its proximate cause. We mention this to draw attention to the importance

Spinoza places upon a knowledge of the intrinsic properties and powers of objects perceptible to sense.

The definition of an uncreated thing must exclude all idea of external cause, must assure us beyond doubt thatthe thing exists, must not include abstract terms, and should be such as to allow as far as possible deduction from it of all the thing's properties. Thus definitions of both kinds enable the mind to form new thoughts, because from an essential definition the mind can deduce properties which will be so many new truths. ,These are the conditions of perfect definitions and the order of discovering new truths that derive from them. But Spinoza does

not in the TDIE, nor indeed anywhere else, describe what the means may be of forming a definition, which meets these conditions. Spinoza

was conscious of this lack, for, a little father on in the TDIE. he says: ...so far, we have not got any rules for finding definitions, and, os we cannot set forth such rules without a previous knowledge of Nature, that is without a definition of the understanding and its

77TDIE. W L , I, 29 . Waite tr., p. 32 .

223

power, it follows either that the definition' must be clear in itself, or that we can understand nothing.7k
Th e reason, then, th-.t S p i n o z a does not give r u l e r for finding

definitions is th ; t he lucks us yet the foundation-upon which those rules depend so that he must first discover the foundation But since on exact knowledge

before he can formulate such rules.

cf that foundation seems to presuppose the rules of definition, Spinoza finds himself in a dilemma. The present fragment of the

treatise on method draws to a close with Spinoza's proposal of a possible escape between the horns of this dilemma, but the text fails, the proposal, so f-r as we know, is not carried out. The

foundation of the rules of definition is indicated, but no actual rules for finding perfect" definitions occur in any systematic form in his other writings. At best we find incidental references

to ways of finding imperfect definitions, that is, definitions which constitute inferential knowledge, but not knowledge of the best kind.79 This failure is one of the great lacks'in Spinoza's incomplete treatise on method, a lack which would have been supplied, we trust, if he had completed the treatise. in the TDIE, however At this point

he turns from the problem of finding perfect

deflations to the problem of organizing true ideas.

78TDIE. W L

I. 32 . White tr., p. 35.

79Cf. , e.g., TTP, Annotations. VI., W L , II 315 , Elves tr., I, 270, where Spinoza describes how to form u clear and distinct idea of God through common notions.

22k

y.

Organization of true ide..s

izLsession of a great number of true idear in not

; sufficient

condition for knowledge, if those ideas -re not systematic.11y and truly organized. It is Spinoza's belief that idea;: c;n be

organized about a principle which is not arbitrarily chosen, but which exists actually -s the principle of organization in nature. When the nind possesses both the form of truth and the true principle of organizing its ideas . it will be in u good position to make a beginning of systematic knowledge.

In his search for the necessary foundation of knowledge, necessary "for our thoughts may be brought to a close by the absence of a f o u n d a t i o n , S p i n o z u suggests two approaches, the first a metaphysical-epistemological approach, the second apsychologicalepistemological approach. He describes the first approach:

As regards the order of our perceptions, and the manner in which they should be arranged and united, it is necessary that, as soon as is possible and rational, we should inquire whether there be any being (and, if so, what being) that is the cause of all things, so that its essence, represented in thought, may be the cause of all our ideas, and then our mind will to the utmost possible extent reflect Nature. For it will possess, objectively, Nature's essence, order, and union.1 Thus, if there is in nature a formal essence which is the cause of all other formal essences, and if the mind can form for itself the objective essence of that formal essence, then since "the idea in the world of thought is in the same case as its correlate in

80TDIZ. VYL, I, 32.

f l l gpig. W L , I, 30.

White tr., p. 35- ' White tr. , p. 33-

225

the world of reality/1 when the mind possesse

objectively that

ultimate formal essence, it will po6secs potentially or implicitly Nature's essence, order, and union. which .11 its ideas may be -traced, It will possess a point to

o ' . nee that point .c ultimate

in formal reality, the mind, by relating all its Ideas to that point and by tracing, as far as may be, eacn idea from that point, will gradually systematize its ideas in a re^l order. the metaphysical-epistemological approach. This i f ;

If method is reflective knowledge

the search for tWt ultimate

cause which can lend true order to our thoughts must be conducted by reflection upon thoughts itself, and not by reasoning about things apart frctn the mind. So Spinoza says:

I f . , therefore, we wish to investigate the first thing of all, it will be necessary to supply some foundation which may direct our thoughts thither. Further, since method is reflective knowledge, the foundation which must direct our thoughts cun be nothing else than the knowledge of that which contitutes the reality of truth, and the knowledge of the understanding, its properties .nd powers. When this has been acquired we shall possess a foundation wherefrom we can deduce our thoughts, and a path whereby the intellect, according to its capacity, may attain the knowledge of eternal things, allowance being made for the extent of the intellectual p o w e r s . 32 This is the second, or psychological-epistenoiogicul, approach, since it proceeds by reflection upon the powers of the understanding in order to discover what it actually is that constitutes them. The function of such reflection is to direct the mind to that idea which Is the foundation of all its powers 82TDIE. V7L . I, 32.
at . i d

ideas.

White tr., p. 35-

226

The jnanner In which Spinoza leads the mind to the foundation of its powers is analytic; that is. by reflecting upon oucught
ne

resolves thought into its parts, and he relates the parts in a

by

sequence of dependence

applying the principle of sine -ua non.

be

he observes ( 1 ) - that there can

no knowledge without true, ideas,

but (2) thet the truth of ideas requires a criterion of truth, and
as

that criterion he offers., on the bauis of reflection, tiie C-Uionc He turns

(3 ) to

of clarity, distinctness -nd adequacy.

the true

increase of ideas, and since there can be no true increase of true ideas without a true order of increase, he looks for that order and finds it in the movement from essence to property. But

since ( l j ) even a true increase of true ideas does not guarantee a systematic knowledge, he looks next for a principle of organization. That principle is the keystone of Spinoza's method, the apprehension of the idea of the first thing of all. It is this ides which

ultimately guarantees the truth of all our ideas and indeed has been presupposed in the concept of adequacy, for adequacy is gauged by reference to thoughts in the mind of an ultimate thinking being. All true ideas might be deduced from the ultimate idea., were the reflecting mind perfect, and in the order of their deduction would find their place in systematic knowledge. Since method
1e

reflective

knowledge, this keystone must be sought by an analysis of the powers of the understanding. Such analysis is an attempt to discover and Since

understand the primary notion presupposed in all thought.

a true thought corresponds to its correlate in the actual world,

227

this primary notion will reflect the primary cause t r . reality.

Thus .

Jnine 2 * . i attempts to offer u : , a way of making the primary notion of thou/ant and the pri.ra.iry cause' in reality cle.r to consc iousners. in attemptino this, he attempts vnat Deecrrtes called tne moat troublesome problem in metaphysics:

...nothing in met..physics

causes more trouble than the making the perception cf its primary notions clear and d i s t i n c t . S p i n o z a , however, seeks not "primary notions" but the primary metaphysical notion, which he takes to be the idea of the first thing of . . . 1 1 .

In our discussion of the manner of increasing true ideas, we noticed the dilemma which appeared to make Spinozas search for the ultimate foundation of thought unnecessary or impossible; the

Idea sought must be true and fruitful as well as fundamental; to be true it must exhibit the characteristics of true ideas distinctness, and adequacy clarity,

and to be fruitful it must be expressed

in a particular affirmative definition; but since the means for finding definitions are still lacking, and presuppose i knowledge of what we are seeking, either our dddnlt ion of the power of thought is self-evident, or we can understand nothing. Spinoza attempts we do

to escape the dilemma by qualifying one of its horns:

understand some things; therefore the definition of the understanding must be clear in itself; "Nevertheless,V he adds, "this definition is not absolutely clear in itself;...1 ' * 1 This appears to mean that

3Descartes, Reply to CbSections II. The Philosophical Worku of Descartes, tr. Holdane & Ross (Dover Publications, Inc., 1955)- 11. * * ? S^TDIE. W L , I, 32. White tr., p. 35-

228

although the 'definition of the understanding is not absolutely cle.r, it is clear enough to n -ke itself manifest to a mind that the properties of the underjt^nding. Nevertheless, this definition is not absolutely cle.r in itself; however, since its properties, like ull things that we possess through the understanding, cannot be known clearly and distinctly, unless its nature be known previously, the definition of the understanding makes itself manifest, if we pay attention to its properties, which we know clearly and distinctly.5 By reflecting upon something it already knows to some extent, the mind can come to know that thing in a newer and better way. The
refla,-:. n . v t

technique of Socratic induction is the technique which Spinoz^. employs in this reflection: that is, it is the process of inducing a set of

properties and comparing them with one another to discover the common basis from which the properties necessarily follow. "Let us, then," says Spinoza, "enumerate here the properties of the understanding, let us examine them, and begin by discussing the instruments for research which we find innate in us., , UQ He then lists eight properties of the understanding: the understanding involves

px

certainty; it forms some ideas absolutely, some ideas from others; its absolute ideas express infinity, its determinate ideas are derived from others; it forms positive ideas before negative ones; the mind in understanding things does not consider their number or duration, but in imagining things perceives them in a determinate number, duration, and quantity; clear and distinct ideas seea to depend on our power alone, while confused ideas are often formed against our will; the

35lbid. SoTDIE. W L , I, 32. White tr., pp. 35-36.

229

mind' (mens) con determine in many w..ys the ideut of thing- which-the intellect (intellectus) forms from other idea:;; finally, ideas are the .more perfect pn themselves any
object

the more they express perfection of

..fter this onumernt ionipinoz ; says:

. . .F :lse and fictitious ide.s us such c n teacn us nothing concerning the essence of thought; this must be sought from the positive properties just enumerated; in other words, we must lay down some conmon basis from which these properties necessarily follow, so that when this is given, the properties are necessarily given alsq, and when it is removed, they too vanish with it.

Here the manuscript fails. Earlier in the text Spinoza indicated what he thought must be the answer to the question he raises here: of thought? what is the essence

In explaining the presence in us of inadequate thoughts,

he said that "we ore parts of a thinking being, whose thoughts some in their entirety, some in fragments only
mi nd. "^9

constitute our

se suggests that the essence of human thought is to be This notion of the essence

part of an absolute thinking being.

of human thought would easily account for some of the propafcies of the understanding which Spinoza has listed, for on the face of it the thinking of an absolute thinking being would seem to involve certainty, to have the power of forming absolute ideas, to have ideas expressing infinity, and so on; and to the extent that human thought is part of absolute thought it would share in these powers.

S T tdie. 53 t d E .
39TDIS.

W L , I, 33- White W L , I, 34. White

W L , I, 23 . White

tr., pp. 36-37tr., p.

3 7

tr., p. 25 .

230

Thu essence of human thought, thus conceived, involves the Idee of an absolute thinking being,
go

that reflection upon the

a

powers of nuaan understanding seems to disco.or, az

necessary

condition of its existence, the existence.of such an absolute being. bpinoza's analysis has led us step by step to an aw.rene.: It is this step by step . . n a l y ' i s which is original

of this existence.

with Spinoza, for the actual conclusion reached by analysis is simply a variation on Descartes' first proof of God based on the contingency of the human mind. But Spinoza c;mnot yet identify

his absolute thinking being with God; he must yet show that the absolute thinking being reached by analysis of human thought is identical with the first cause of all things. There is no doubt

that Spinoz- thought of the absolute thinking being ^s God, for i n . Ethics, II, 10, he asserts that the divine nature "is first in the order of knowledge and in the order of things." His analysis

so far has shown that the ultimate thinking being must be first in the order of knowledge. The question is whether analysis of

the powers of human thought can also show the ultimate thinking being to be first in the order of things. In point of fact,

Spinoza did not carry out his anlysis to such identification in the TDIZ. although he clearly wanted to, for only by such identification could he have the best possible knowledge of the starting point of true philosophy, as he frequently describes that starting point: "...in order to reproduce in every respect

the faithful image of Nature, our mind must deduce all its ideas from the idea which represents the origin and source of the whole

of Nature

. so thut

it m a y

itself b e c o m e the that

source

of other

ide.o. ."90

N o w , let us how to arrive by

suppose

Jpinoz.
tne

uad succeeded first

in

showing

us

analysis at

idea of the

tiling

of all.

sh.t differences would there approach

have b e e n b e t w e e n

sucli an

analytic
of God of G o d

and

the

synthetic

demonstration in t h e

of the e x i s t e n c e

which Spinoza actually used arrived

at

Ethics 1

hirst,,

th e

idet

by analysis would be direct, and would constitute

best

knowledge of the

possible kind since it would

of a

re s u l t

in the

immediate perception

particular affirmative essence; the

synthetic proof in the Ethics uses common notions, is indirect, and constitutes the second-best kind of knowledge, knowledge by inference. Moreover, the synthetic proof, whida makes God's existence follow upon common nations of substance and so forth, inevitably suggests that the idea of God presupposes certain other ideas, which therefore seem more fundamental; whereas Spinoza everywhere insists that no idea can be conceived without the idea of God. This latter belief,

which seems so arbitrary in view of the synthetic proof of God, would be justified if the analytic process were successful. Second,

since Spinoza insists that the definition of an uncreated thing must assure us without doubt that the thing exists, the analytic approach is much more desirable than the synthetic for, if successful, each man who followed such an analysis would be assured of the existence of the first thing of all, and this assurance would be sustained in each of the inferences of the properties following upon the perception of that essence; whereas the synthetic approach

90TDIE. W L , I, 13.

White t r . , p. ll*.

inevitubly suggests a certain arbitrnrinec3 about first principle.., and. tnic cense of urbitrurine~s elicits u doubt which infects subsequent inference .. H..d Jpinozu succeeded in finding t i n an .lytic approach to the idea of God, he could then have used the synthetic proof as : confirming demonstration.
. s it is, in the

Ethics when he does begin to deduce, as f . r as may be, the properties of God, his deductions must prodeed from a synthetic demonstration. Once the idea of the first thing of all has been obtained, whether by an-lysis or synthesis, the mind can then by reflecting upon that idea begin to deduce its properties in an order that will reflect the order of nature. The possibility of such- deductive

inference presupposes a continuity i n . nature conceived as subject to necessary laws; we know that Spinoza makes this presupposition, for in discussing the use of hypothesis, in the TDIE, he asserts in u footnote: As there can be nothing in Nature contrary to Nature's lavs since all things come to pass by fixed lavs, so that each thing must irrefragably prbduce its own proper effect, it follows that the soul, as soon as it possesses the true conception of e . thing, proceeds to reproduce in thought that thing's effects.91 Although the true order of thought moves from cause to effect, ve have already seen that Spinoza is willing to move from effect to cause, if the cause is already known, not absolutely, but to some extent, because then the effects, Deflected upon in relation to their common cause, tend to make that cause more

' 9 1TDIE. W L , I, 19, fn. 2.

White tr., p. 21.

e x p l i c 't to c o n s c l o u s n c s c .
1'iorri

L.is movement
"

or r efl e c t ; v < . * Ihoug.'.t .r . nature.

a

effect:.

to c a u s e

also

re. ujj:

ocu.

cont.uuisy ys

c o n t i n u i t y w h i c h J p i n o z n do! cribe:; w h e n :.v th e knowledge of on e f f e c t knowledge

reai-ty.
n c q u io it ; ., r .

i< nothin,; u L e t h e n the cf its

of m o r e

perfect it

c a u s e ,", t - and w h e n he adds, we

"...that of Nature

it h e r e b y manifest-

that
time

cannot understand

nnyt:.:r.,_ of

without

at the

sua e

increasing our knowledge

the first cause /primae causae7 or God.-^ But the principal advantage of deductions from the idea of the first tiling of all is that they yield a "knowledge of eternal things1 : When this ^/foundation of thought, i.e., idea of first thing of all7 has been acquired we shall possess a foundation wherefrotn we can deduce our thoughts, and a path whereby the intellect, according to its capacity, may attain the knowledge of eternal things, allowance be ing made for the extent of the intellectual powers. A knowledge of eternal things is important in Spinoza's methodology, we recollect, because these particular eternal things will, "owing to their presence and power everywhere, be to us as universals, or genera of definitions of particular mutable things, and as the proximate causes of all things.95 Spinoza here reminds us that

our power of thought is limited, and consequently we may infer that our ability to deduce thoughts from the first cause is also limited, a limitation we should expect since the essence of human thought is to be part of the absolute thinking being, and is not

92TDIE. 93TDIE. 9VEDIE. 95TDIE.

WL, I

28.

White tr.,-p.

3 1

.
3 1

W L , I, 28, fn. 2. White tr., p. WL, I 32. White tr., p. White tr., p.
3 5

, fn. 32

W L , I, 31.

3I * .

231 *

identical with The power is

absolute thought. to m a k e continuous deductions from the attributes first cause in

limited to the

intellect,

dpinoc.

continuity

d e d u c t i o n and the part

in t n o u g h t t o t h e

intellect,

a n d d i s c o n t i n u i t y to But since the us e of

of t'he m i n d w h i c h itself is limited

lie culls

in.-s-nutJon.

intellect it, the

e v o n w i t h tne be st p o s s i b l e

human m i n d cun expect to uchseve only a partial knowledge the mind of m a n is i n h e r e n t l y l i m i ted.

o f t h e w h o l e of n a t u r e : Nevertheless and although of nature, implicitly, in a n

it c - n r i s e t o it c a n n o t

real knowledge

of e t e r n a l t h i n g s , of t n e w h o l e

expect

an

ex p l i c i t k n o w l e d g e

it c a n h o l d the w h o l e of n a t u r e and

in its t h o u g h t it d o e s attain

thereby

it c a n a r r a n g e t h e k n o w l e d g e

order that does approximate the real order. This part of method which relates to the deduction of

eternal things from the idea of the first thing of all constitutes the synthetic phase of Ppinoza's methodology. It is synthetic in

the Cartesian sense, since it consists in deducing in due order all the legitimate conclusions possible from a fundamental thought; it is reflective knowledge, since it consists in reflecting upon a thought in order to perceive the properties that legitimately follow from an essential idea -- that is, so soon as the mind possesses the true conception of the first thing of all, it proceeds to reproduce in thought that thing's effects." This purely synthetic aspect of method is limited to the production in thought of the eternal effects of the first thing of all, since continuity in thought is limited to the actual workings

of i ntellect.

The principal result

of

synthes;.
of

is

. knowledge

of

eternal things.
finite

things which

can be used a : : genera

particular mutable
to

Knowledge

of

particular mutable things cones

imagination. from

tne
cou_d

mind through the

Although . p e r f e c t nind
of

trace the entire universe the human mind cannot

thinking

the idea

the first
part of

thing

of all

because it is only

the absolute
-of

being, and because the knowledge it acquires

particular particui
r

mutable things is both fragmentary and extrinsic.

/J.though

mutable things affect the body, and consequently the imagination, the number of such things and the diversity of circumstances surrounding each of them far exceed the power of human thought to comprehend. Furthermore, all that can be gathered from the

effects of those things upon the body is an awareness of their extrinsic relations and circumstances, frcd which it is very difficult to discover their inmost essences, upon a knowledge of which all true understanding depends. If methodology is to be

complete, it therefore needs a way of relating the discontinuity discovered to imagination by the action of particular things upon the body to the knowledge of eternal things derived in a continuous sequence by intellect's reflection upon the first thing of all. This phase of method might be called empirical-synthetic, since it offers a way of joining empirically determined particulars to the eternal things which serve as their genera or efficient causes. The techniques of the empirical philosqhers, when made as exact as human ingenuity can -chieve, serve to determine a particular

1^36

nwtablu tiling sufficiently for ph ilouoyhicui reflective study.

by ref lectin^ upon tee particular mut -ble thing, ro deter::: ined .

in tne light of eternal forrnc , t.ie mine L

of tie eternal ferns ..uc been efficient ini r.g.

led to perc*?! ve whien

_n the production of that

i t : u s roc lute u part leuiar thing with an eternal form is

to form a definition of the particular mutable thing, . suea that the mind acquires

laiovledge of its inmost essence.

Cnee that is

acquired, the mind can then proceed by synthetic reflection to deduce, in due order, the thing's intrinsic properties. The

empirical definition thus formed consists in the eternal thing which acts as the genus, and the careful empirical determination of the mutable object, which acts as a specific difference. Only when the mutable has been reflectively associated with the eternal, the discontinuous with the continuous, can the mind be said to have knowledge of a mutable thing; for perfect knowledge, according to Spinoza, is limited to knowing inmost essence and intrinsic property. Thus, the principal aim of this part of

methodology is to reflect upon a carefully determined mutable object in order to poceive its relation to the eternal forms. In resume, Spinoza thinks of method us reflective knowledge, and of the whole of methodology as having various inter-dependent phases, each of them reflective in character. The first phase

of method is analysis, whereby the mind in reflecting upon its powers is directed to perceive the foundation of all its thought,

the idea of the first thin;.; of all.

The second phase of method

is synthesi. . whereby the mind by reflecting upon the idea of tne first thing of
nil

is led to form a distinct concept of some of The.

the eternal.- forms which follow from the first tiling of all.

third phase of method is empirical .nd synthetic, and it consists in the mind's conjoining by reflection its powers of imagination and intellect so as to arrive at essential knowledge of particular mutable things.

C.

Evidence of Aplnozn't Frojected Methodology

1.

Analysis . . i s described in the Traetatue de Intellectus Emendat 1 one.

The hypothesis that Spinoza's complete idea of method is . complex idea consisting of three distinguishable pnases -- analytic, synthetic and empirical-synthetic can be tested by relating it

to the discussions of method contained in the trmtise on method to see whether the hypothesis is consistent with the text. For

this purpose it will be convenient to review briefly the various parts of the treatise on method. In its present form the Tractatus de Intellect v i s Emendat lone contains five distinct sections. In the first section, which is

autobiographical, Spinoza states that he intends to devote all his actions and thoughts in life to the acquisition of a character stabilized by the knowledge of the union which the mind has with the whole of nature. But since he is aware that there are various

modes in which things can be perceived, in the second section he compares and contrasts the various modes of perception with which he is familiar in order to choose that kind of perception which will give him the best possible knowledge, and he decides that he will be entirely satisfied only if he can succeed in arriving at direct and ismediate perception of particular essences and their properties. He naturally asks how his intellect should be This leads him to

directed to secure the sort of knowledge he desires.

discuss, in the third section, the possibility of forming an idea

239

of tne right metaod of directing the intellect, and to consider the general nature of methodology. He conclude- first th . t u

true method will enable the mind to distinguish true ideat from all other kind-s of perceptions, und in the fourtn section of the treatise he endeavors to show how tnia can be done. He also

concludes, second, that a true method must lead to an orderly increase and unification of true ideas, and in tne fifth section he begins to show how this is to be done, t i e failed to complete

this fifth section, and the manuscript stops abruptly at the very beginning of this part of his methodology. The fourth and fifth sections of the treatise are tne only sections devoted to a detailed account of an actual method for guiding the mind. In the fourth section Spinoza takes as his

subject matter "the form of truth," for he feels that if the form of truth may be determined, the mind will possess a norm by which it may distinguish true ideas from other perceptions. In the

fifth section Spinoza takes as his subject "the nature and power of the understanding " for he feels that if these are known along with the form of truth the mind will have a foundation from which it will be able to discern the first thing of ail* and this being discerned, the mind will be in a position to attain knowledge of eternal things and, eventually, of particular and temporal things. As Spinoza puts It in the fifth section: The object aimed at is the acquisition of clear and distinct ideas, such a6 are produced by the pure

intellect, and not by chance physical notions. In order that all ideas may be reduced to unity we uhall endeavor so tc us so lute and arrange tnem that our mind may as far u . : possible reflect objectively re.li.ty of nature both as a whole and as parts . bit farther on he adds: As regards the order of our perceptions, and the manner in which they should be arranged and united, it is necessary that, as soon as is possible and rational, we should inquire whether there be any being (and, if ao, what being) that is the cause of all things, so that its essence, represented in thought, may be the cause of all our ideas, and then our mind will to the utmost possible extent reflect Nature, for it will possess, objectively Nature's essence, order, and union.97 Then several pages later he concludes: If, therefore, we wish to investigate the first thing of all, it will be necessary to supply some foundation which xauy direct our thoughts thither. Further, since method is reflective knowledge, the foundation which must direct our thoughts can be nothing else than the knowledge of that which constitutes the reality of truth, and the knowledge of the under standing, its properties and powers. When this has been acquired we shall possess a foundation wherefrom we can deduce our thoughts, and a path whereby the Intellect, according to its capacity, may attain the knowledge of eternal things, allowance being made for the extent of the intellectual powers.98 Thereupon he turns immediately to the task of determining the powers of the understanding, makes a list of the properties of the understanding which he has chiefly noted, and observes that "we must lay down some common basis from which these properties WL WL,
1 , 28. 1 , 30 .

96t d i e .

White tr., p. 31White tr., p. 3f.

97TDIE.

98TDIE.

WL.

I, 3 2 .

White tr., p. 35-

21+1

necessarily follow, so that when, this is given, the properties are necessarily r 3 iven also with it."^ and when it is removed, they too vanish and we

But with this sentence the manuscript fails

are Isft tc conjecture that the common basis constituting the essence of the powers of understanding is indeed the idea of the first tning of all. This review of the principal topics discussed in the fragment
t

of the treatise on method which we possess is prima facie evidence that the treatise does attempt to direct the mind to the idea of the first thing of all by analyzing the powers of the understanding. The treatise in its present form does not give a detailed account of the later phases of methodology synthesis and empirical-synthesis

although, as we have shown in the preceding section, Spinoza does discuss these phases and, as ve have Just seen, insists that the idea of the first thing of all, arrived at by analysis, does open up a path "whereby the intellect, according to its capacity, may attain the knowledge of eternal things." In short, the Tractatus

de Intellectus Emendat lane, in its incomplete form, for the most part describes the analytic phase of method, but also indicates the nature and function of the synthetic and empirical-synthetic phases which
<

will complete his methodology. Certain statements in the treatise, however, apparently suggest that the discussion of method in the fragment ve possess constitutes

99TDIE. W L , I, 31* . White tr., p. 37.

2 1 4 2

the Gum total of method.

For example, in the tnird section of the u good method

treatise Spinoza distinguishes two kinds of method: and a perfect method. total of method."

These two, he adds, constitute "the sum

Moreover, he suggests that these two kinds of

method are the ones he discusses in section four and section five of the present text. If so, he seems to suy that analytic method As u conxequence, the hypothesis we

is a complete methodology.

are testing would seem to be entirely untenable.

Spinoza's discussion of a good method and the perfect method is at first sight confusing because he intersperses his remarks

about the two methods in such a way that the continuity of his thought is interrupted. We seem to have in this discussion one

of the passages which the editors of the Opera Fosthuma had in mind when they warned the reader that the treatise contains some thoughts that are rudia adhuc et Impolita. It is possible, however, that the confusion is simply a matter of paragraph construction which can be overcome by rearranging the material into two paragraphs, the first including all of Spinozas sentences that refer to the good method, the second the sentences that refer to the perfect method. The passage may then read: ...it is also evident that, for the certitude of truth, no further sign is necessary beyond the possession of a true idea.... Whence ve may gather that method is nothing else than reflective knowledge, or the idea of an idea; and that as there can be no idea of an idea unless an idea exists previously there can be no method without a pre-existent idea. Therefore, that will be a good

lOOprofessor Bidney first pointed out to me the paragraph confusion here, and I am grateful to him for the rearrangement I reproduce.

2 1 * 3

method which shows us how the mind should be directed, according to the standard of the given true idea.... lor we may gather from what has been said, that a true Idea must necessarily first of all exist in us as an innate instrument; and that when this idea is apprehended by the mind, it enables us to understand the difference existing between itself and all other perceptions. In this one part of the method consists. .-.gain, seeing that the relation existing between two ideas is the same as tne relation between the actual realities corresponding to those ideas, it follows that the reflectiveknovledge which has for its object the most perfect being is more excellent than reflective knowledge concerning other objects in other words, that method will be most perfect which affords the standard of the given idea of the most perfect being whereby ve may direct our mind. We thus easily understand how, in proportion as it acquires new ideas, the mind simultaneously acquires fresh instrixaents for pursuing its inquiries further.... It follows, therefore, that this portion of the method will be more perfect in proportion as the mind attains to the comprehension of a greater number of objects and that it will be absolutely perfect when the mind gains a knowledge of the absolutely perfect being or becomes conscious /refleetit7 thereof.... And this is the sum total of method, as ve have already stated it.101 First, the good method which Spinoza outlines is obviously concerned vith the form of truth as a norm distinguishing true ideas from other kinds of perceptions. We have already observed that knowledge of the form of truth is one part of the foundation necessary to enable the mind to educe the idea of the first thing of all. Second, the perfect method which Spinoza outlines is to

direct the mind to the idea of the first thing of all, a consummation which as ve have seen is the aim of analysis. Analysis, as ve have

described It, is Identical with the perfect method that Spinoza

liCf. I D E . W L , I 12-13. White tr., pp. 12-11*.

ilk

describe., in thi s pus sage. But how i .re we to uhdiT-tund Jpirio::\ .

c cnc^-ciing

remark trnt 'this hoc. dpinoz

t;.e

tu r n

total of

uut .> X , . .

w < - . . ; . v e

.1ready stated. lt"V t :te - of method! that

. . t . n that i.nly: X

. t i n ; sun

1 o un. v / er . we need only notice too extinction

pinoon maker. between 'the method wh'eh the aind must l o! low

order to be able to make a pood beginning in its quest for know ledre end the method the mind must follow to arrive -t the fuHner. s of knowledge open to n finite intellect. The phr.-se "de Lntellectus emendations in the title of the TDI-

variously translated "improvement.'- "correction ' or "purification of the "understanding;' or of the '"intellect.It is indeed difficult

to find one English word which conveys the meaning Spinoza attached tp emendatio Spinoza himself found occasion to explicate the meaning To emend the

of the phrase by restating it In fuller expression.

understanding, he explains; is to bring about "us far as one may at the outset . that the intellect apprehend things without error and in the best possible way."^^ into the right path. " It is " to bring the understanding

The Lnaediate effect of the emendation

is that the intellect sets about acquiring "new ideas in the proper order, according to the standard of a true idea existing in the mind. '
,

* nli

102TDIE. W L . I 6. Sed ante omnia excogitandus est modus aedendi intellectus, ipsumque. quantum initio licet, expurgandi, ut feliciter res absque errore, et quam optiae intelligat. White tr., p. 6.

103lbid. Sed quia, dun duramus eum consequi et operam daaus ut intellectum in rectam viam redigaaus, nedesse est...etc. White tr. p. 7* lOLgpIE , W L , I. 13. ...si quis fato quodam sic processisset, Laturam investigando scilicet ad datae 7 erae ideae normam alias acqulxendo ideas deb ito ord ine, nunquam de sua 7eritate dubitusset.... My ta^nslation. Cf. White tr.. p. 15

In generul. then, to emend the understanding means to redirect the intellect into the right path, wnere it can apprehend things without error and in the best possible way, and where it c m acquire new ideas in a proper order according to the standard of the true idea existing in the mind. Analysis, then. Is complete when the Intellect

possesses the standard of a true idea and a principle of order for relating the true ideas th-.t are acquired. We have ulready seen that the principle of order Apinoza seeks in the idea of the first thing of all which is to be brought into the full light of

consciousness by reflection on the form of truth and the foundation of the powers of the understanding. Forming this idea enables the intellect to make a good beginning In its quest for knowledge, for when the intellect posseses the idea of the first thing of all, it possesses in principle the order union and essence of Nature.

The next step will be to make that knowledge explicit in the richness and variety of detail that is found in Nature. That is, the emended

intellect then must proceed to acquire a knowledge of things. The second part of Spinoza's title promises the best possible way to such knowledge: et de via, qua optime in veraa rerum cognitionem

dirigitur. According to our hypothesis, this way requires deduction of eternal laws from the idea of the first thing of all and determination of particular things by empirical methods so that the mind by reflecting on them can relate them to the eternal laws which alone serve to explain them.

21+6

l iow . i r . the passage we are con:ider: ng l i p ;n o r . . concludes by

saying: "it /thiu portion o l ' method/ will be absolutely perfect

when the mind gains a knowledge cf tne absolutely rerfect being or be comer consciou.. thereof.' -..ter In the treatise ue iddr:

When this /the idea of the first thin.; of alj./ has been acquired we s h e .11 possess a foundation wherefrom we can deduce our thoughts . and a path whereby the intellect, according to its capacity, may attain the knowledge cf eternal things, allowance being made for the extent of the intellectual powers . These two passages taken in conjunction make it.clear that Spinoza did not intend to say that analysis is the sum total of method: his intended meaning was "this is the sum total of the analytic phase of method." Thus, to idatify the whole of Spinoza's

methodology with analysis is to reduce his methodology to the part that claims to do no more than make a good beginning in the quest for knowledge. Spinoza's idea of a complete methodology is not nearly so shadowy as this. A b he describes his idea, methodology must begin This is accomplished by

with the emending of the intellect.

putting the intellect in possession of the form oflruth and of the idea of the first thing of all. In possessing this latter

idea the intellect is restored to the summit of truth and wisdom from which alone it can begin to make an orderly survey of the parts of nature in all their variety and interdependence. its survey is vague. But us yet

As it perceives more of the details of nature distinct and systematic. Its

its knowledge becomes more clear

105TDIE. WL I, 32.

White tr., p. 35-

2h'{

po^se:;S ion of the form c l ' truth wc-s sufficient to enable it to

s t r e ngthen its poerc; its possession o:' the idea of the first tiling

of all was sufficient to give

It a principle of order.

The two

ideas together are sufficient to enable it to begin to recreate for itself t he e ssence order

and union of nature.

Thus every increase

in its u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the variety and nature adds to

interconnectedness of With

its understanding of the first th^ng of all.

its increase

in knowledge of the whole corresponds c.n increase of in an ever intensifying intellectual wonder The whole of

a d m i r a t i o n for the whole which ipinoza calls

"the intellectual love of G o d . 1

m e t h o d makes p o s s i b l e the systematic self; things, and God.

increase in the knowledge of

But although it all begins w ith the this e m e n d a t i o n is o n l y the b e g i n n ing

e m e n d a t i o n of t h e of wisdom.

intellect

T h e e m e n d e d intellect m u s t be p erfected b y b e i n g kept This

steadily at w o r k in the path leading t o t h e k nowledge of t h i n g s .

pat h is t h e w a y a n nounced by Spinoza in the second part of the title he gave t o the t r e atise on method, b u t u n f o r t u n a t e l y the nature of th e pat h is o n l y sugg e s t e d in the fragment of t h e treatise we possess a n d is n o t d e scribed in detail. T h e treatise as we possess

it is a t r e a t i s e on the m e t h o d b y w h i c h the intellect c a n b e g i n t o m a k e a true start in the quest for knowledge: that is, the treatise

for the mo s t par t describes the analytic phase of method, but indicates the n ature a n d f u n c t i o n of synthetic and empirical-synthetic phases. T h e u n i q u e c o n t r i b u t i o n o f 1Spinoza's analysis can be discerned

2k3

by considering It in oontrast to the methodologies of his imnmiiute predecessors. V < r hen Spinoza began to philosophize the methodologies of Bacon and of Descartes were competing for general acceptance.
In

a letter to ( ldenburg S p i n o z a expressed his dissatisf_.ction

and

with the philosophies

methods

of

both, drawing attention to

basic difficulty in the formation of a methodology.1^6

If method

is to guide the mind to a true knowledge of things, it must define

a point from which the mind can make a good beginning, and it

must describe a process by which the mind may increase its initial knowledge into an extens ive body of organized knowledge. Among the seventeenth century philosophers the starting point of method was usually things, or the self, or God. Bacon chose to begin

from things, or from the sensuous impression of things, because he believed that: Man, being the servant and interpreter of nature,, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.107 Descartes chose to begin from self because he thought that philosophy must begin from a principle that is primary and indubitable. In the

Principles he asserts "that ve cannot doubt of our existence while we doubt, and that this is the first knowledge we acquire when ve philosophize in order "108 Spinoza chose to begin fran the idea of

10%p. 2.

TVL, III

6-7-

Wolf

pp. 76-78.

lQ7ffovum Organum, I, Aph. 1.

108principles> I, 7*

the first thl ng of -11 because t i l l ; - idea is primary

In the sense

that ull otnor Idea.: presuppo e it; because it i s " most cert.in, sine t tlone c ;n be rerceived tiirvu,,.. Itself; -utd because it contains in itself im.-licitiy the order nature. essence, .nd union of the whole of

If tals idea doe.' reflect the actual order cf the whole starting point the
urate

of reality,. Spinoza combiner i : ir .

advantages that 3-con and Lesc .rte.; claimed for theirs , bee luse the idea of the first thing of all is priiuury, certain, and truly fruitful.
Spinoza never tires of insisting that a perfect system of organized kn vledge a perfect science and complete philosophy --

demands the idea of the first being of all as its starting point. A knowledge of the first cause of things is he says, the

necessary starting point of a knowledge of nature's essence, order and union. But is this starting point necessary for other, more Spinoza's introductory remarks to some of The Ethics

specialized studies?

his various works are interesting in this respect.

begins with the idea of God and attempts to give, in Book I, nature's essence conceived. order and union so far as that may be generally

The last four books, dealing with the part of nature

most pertinent to man, man himself, are then related to the idea of nature developed in Book I in such a way that the principles of Book I serve to explain many of the problems of human nature. Thus

in the Ethics the study of human mental and ethical nature in Books II to V is related to the idea of the first thing of all through the

^50

principle::: of B ok I. The Tr ictatus Tneologico-Pollt icuc- is n more v ' t ci-liced .:tudy

th.*n Books II to V of the Ktip.cs;. and the ideas, there d. s ; cue ted -re no.t formally linked to the idea of the first being of ill. the very first pa (re- of tnut book Spinoza observes thut "tne knowledge which we acquire by our natural faculties depend.; on our knowledge of God and His eternal specifically: laws."109 Then he adds more Bat in

teeing then that our mind objectively conta_ns in itself and partakes of the nature of God, ~nd solely from this cause is enabled to form notions explaining natural phenomena and inculcating morality, it follows that we may rightly assert the nature of the human mind (in so far as it is thus conceived) to be a primary cause of Divine revelation. All that we clearly and distinctly understand is dictated to us, as I have just pointed out, by the idea and nature of God; not indeed through words, but in a way far more excellent and agreeing perfectly with the nature of the mind, as all who have enjoyed intellectual certainty will doubtless attest. Here, however, my chief purpose is to speak of matters having reference to scripture, so these few words on the light of reason will suffice Thus although Spinoza does not in the Tractatus TheologicoFoliticus formally relate his study of Scripture to the idea of the first being of all, he explicitly remarks at the outset on iie relation of the light of reason to the idee, and nature of God. To

the reader of the Tractatus the study may very well seem to be a copletely independent and specialized one without reference to the essence, order and union of nature, but to Spinoza the study was 1Q9TTP, cup. I. IIQITP, cap. i. 7VL II 939I 4.

Elves tr., I,

1 3

W L , II

Elves tr., I, 15

221

composed in toe light of principle.- which ae a_d already evolved and was ut the,very time beginning to work out in the nthlcs. According to Spinoza's statement:; at the beginning of tne r . . .ctatus 1'heologico

foliticuo tne specialized study of Scripture presupposes the idea of

God and use- principles derived from that idea. The Tractatus Politicus. pinozu's study of run in an organized community, was completed after the Ethic:-, tne Tractatus Theologico Politicus, end muny years after the statement of method in the TD1K.

The political treatise is obviously a specialized work and it does not begin with the idea.of God. But in tne introduction opinozu

makes clear that he intends to draw upon "the condition of auman nature'' which he developed in the Ethics, and, moreover, intends to make use of principles outlined in the Tractatus Theologico-Politicus .1H In Chapter II, where he begins his study of natural right, he begins by relating "the power, by which natural things exist, and therefore that by which they operate" to nothing other than "the eternal power of God.112 Throughout this chapter man's rights and liberty are

everywhere related to God. The Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione, of course, begins with the statement that knowledge of God is essential to highest human perfection, and that any true method of acquiring knowledge must be one that can lead the mind into intuitive knowledge of M s union with the whole of nature.

U l C f . TP, cap. I. sec. 1 and Cap. II

112TP cap. II, sec. 2. W L , II, 6.

sec. 1. Eiwes tr . , I, 291

252

Thus it was Spinoza's practice to relate hie more specialized studies eit er directly or indirectly to the idea of God. Only the

Kthice. the statement of his basic philosophy, had to begin with the idea of God. Whether his more minute studies, such as the projected

Hebrew grammar, would have been related to the idea of God by such explicit statements as those given in the works on Scripture, method, and politics is matter for oonjecture. procedure seems clear: But his general rule of

any attempt to state the nature of reality

as a whole, as in the Ethics. must begin from the idea of God if one hopes to achieve a real order in the attempt; more particular studies need not begin from the idea of God, but they presuppose it and draw upon the general principles arrived at from the idea of God. Philosophy that builds upon the exemplar of Nature is the basic science to all more particular studies and serves both to give principles for the direction of the more specialized studies and to order the achievements of the special sciences within the true framework of reality. Synthetic philosophy must be preceded,

therefore, t op an analysis which will, direct the mind to the idea of the first thing of all. If that analysis is to be made, it must be

based upon a real foundation, which Spinoza identifies as "the knowledge of that which constitutes the reality of truth, and the knowledge of the understanding, its properties, and
powers."^3

Thus, It is Spinozas teaching that analysis of the powers of the understanding leads to the idea of the first thing of all, which idea is the starting point of synthetic philosophy. The function

of Spinoza's analysis is to make the primary notion of metaphysics clear and distinct.

wt, I, 32.

White tr., p. 35 .

253

2.

Synthesis as illustrated in the

Ethics.

The work of analysis described

in the TDIE was to have been

completed when the idea of the first being of all had been brought into the focus of consciousness. The philosopher who has

acquired this Idea possesses a principle of order about which all his lesser perceptions nay be organized and also a true starting point for his poitive philosophy, for, according to Spinoza, the mind can from this idea deduce its thoughts and attain a knowledge of eternal things. In Book I of the Ethics, Spinoza

demonstrates the existence of infinite substance, which he identifies with God, *wd then deduces frcn the properties. Since these deductions idea of God hisnature and

and demonstrations are all

performed in the synthetic geometrical manner, and since the Ethics is Spinoza's chief philosophical work, many have identified the whole of Spinoza's methodology with the synthetic geometrical method used in the Ethics. But a closer examination of what

Spinoza does in the Ethics shows that synthetic geometrical demonstration constitutes only a phase in Spinoza's complete methodology. Each book of the Ethics begins, in the Euclidean manner, with a statement of definitions, axioms and postulates and proceeds to

its conclusions by a series of demonstrated propositions all inter-related by references to preceding theorems, axioms and

254

definitions.

Throughout much of the Ethics ve find the suae

objectivity that ve find in aathematical treatises, the same insistence upon necessary connections and consistency, the suae disregard for final cause or emotional associations. The appeals

to experience are usually made only to illustrate points that have been established by abstract and necessary, reasoning. When

imagination is allowed to enter into the discussion, it is kept closely subordinate to reason, and seldom precedes reason in a demonstration. It is obvious that the deductive reasoning of the

Ethics follows in large measure the form of Euclidean synthetic demonstration.

It has been questioned, principally by Wolf son whether the

geometrical form of demonstration is essential to Spinoza's manner of thinking through the materials of the Ethics, and whether the mathematical method of demonstration differs from scholastic syllogizing. Wolfson, as ve saw earlier (pp. 176-179), Identifies

geomeetrical demonstration with valid syllogistic reasoning: The geometrical method of demonstration of the synthetic type is nothing but valid syllogistic reasoning as practiced throughout the history of philosophy.H-1 *

And he adds:
Spinoza's mathematical way of looking atthings means only the denial of design In nature and freedom In man, and this need not necessarily be written in the geometrical literary form. 115 In the context in which Wolf son advances these points, he is arguing

H^olfson, I, 45.

115lbid.

255

against those, such as Erdman, Ereudenthal, and Joachim, who maintain that Spinoza had to apply geometrical synthetic demonstration to philosophy because he had a mathematical way of looking at things."

The description used by Wolfson's opponents is, in the fir6 t place, ambiguous: what is a "mathematical way of looking at things'?

Descartes distinguished between analytic and synthetic approaches, and mathematicians such as Pascal or Poincare, when they talk about the methods of their colleagues , distinguish those who use an intuitive approach to mathematical studies from those who use a deductive approach. The ambiguity is further Increased when we

remember that neither induction nor deduction is necessarily matomatlcal. If by one who has a "mathematical way of looking at

things" ve suppose a man trained in mathematics whose bent is intuitive or deductive, analytic or synthetic vho turns to philosophy, we can

agree that the habits he acquired in his mathematical work will make themselves felt as he works on philosophy; but that such a man would be compelled by his mathematical training to confine himself to geometrical synthetic demonstration is not a necessary conclusion. As the examples of Descartes and Pascal show, mathematicians are under no necessity to vrite their philosophies in a geometrical manner. Ve can therefore agree vith Wolf son against his opponents

that Spinoza , even if he had a mathematical mentality (whatever that may b e ) , did not have to vrite his philosophy geometrically. Why then did Spinoza write the Ethics in the ^metrical manner? Volf son offers the following reasons:

256

(1) Primarily, we may say. the reaeon for ite choice was pedagogical, the clearness and distinctness with which the geometrical fora was believed to delineate the main features of an argument and to bring them into high relief. It was used for the same reasons that one uses outlines und diagrams.^ 8 (2) But there may have been another reason which had prompted' phi loaders at the time of Descartes and Spinoza to turn to the use of the geometrical form. It may have been as a reaction against the new literary forms which since the Renaissance, under the Influence of the works of ancient writers, had been Imported into philosophic writings, where It had taken the place of syllogistic style. The Renaissance philosophers had an aversion toward the syllogistic method of the mediaevals, not so much on intellectual grounds as on purely aesthetic grounds;.... They therefore began to experiment with new literary forms, more polished, more refined, and more resonant.... Philosophy became metaphorical and effusive. What was thus gained In grace vas lost In accuracy and precision. A new method In presenting philosophical arguments vas needed. To return to the old syllogistic method openly and directly would have meant a return to scholasticism, for which the world was not yet ready. They therefore returned to It Indirectly by adopting the geotfftrlcal form. To the philosophers of the seventeenth century the blessed word "mathematics1 1 served as a veneer of respectability for the discredited syllogism. ^ 7
(3) In the case of Spinoza there nay have been still another reason for his use of the geometrical form. It vas In order to avoid the need of arguing against opponents.... Spinoza, for reasons which can only be'explained pqphologlcally, did not want to go through all this elaborate formality.U -8

HfiWolfson, I, 55* HTWolfsan, 5 6 -5 7 .

H8tfolfson, I, 57-58.

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( M And perhaps, also, he chose the geometrical form In order to avoid the temptation of citing S c r i p t u r e .^-9 It Is Wolfson's belief that Spinoza chose to vrite the Ethics in geometrical form because that form has pedagogical value, because It vas a respectable substitute for exact syllogistic reasoning, because It avoided the need of citing opponents, and because it protected him against the temptation of citing Scripture. Whether Splnoxa chose the geometrical form to resist a temptation he might have felt to cite Scripture, only Spinoza himself could say. His philosophical correspondence, for example, is not That Spinoza chose

given such form and seldom cites Scripture.

geometrical form to avoid citing his opponents is also a weak suggestion, for in non-geometrical writings such as the Cogitate Motaphysica and the IDES, he avoids citation of his opponents. These suggestions are hot conclusive enough to lend much weight to Wolfson's hypothesis; but his other suggestions are significant. There can be no argument with Wolfs on vhere he asserts that Spinoza chose geometric method in part because it lent clarity and distinctness to the framing of his Ideas. Spinoza vas no less

enthusiastic than Descartes in the search for clear and distinct ideas and their orderly presentation. There is room for question, however,

when Wolfs on asserts that Spinoza adopted geometrical demonstration because it vas the closest approach to syllogistic reasoning that contemporary Intellectual tastes would suffer; and there is room for

u 9 Wolfscn, I, 59.

8riouB doubt when Wolfaon quite emphatically adds:

But Spinoza newer meant to imply that by hie uae of the geometrical form hia philosophy, like the geometry of Euclid, is the unfoldment of certain a priori self-evident truths. For his.axioms, properly understood, are not necessarily selfevident truths, any more than his propositions are necessarily new truths discovered by demonstration. Most often they cure merely restatements of generally accepted mediaeval brocards. It will, be noticed that the "Axioms" mentioned in a letter from Oldenburg ^pletle ^7 and also in the geometric appendix to the Short Treatise are called "Propositions" in the Ethics, for the terms "definitions, "axioms," "propositions," and their like are used by Spinoza more or less indiscriminately as conventional labels to be pasted an here and there in order to give to his work the external appearance of a work of geometry.^
If Volf son is right, then synthetic deduction vas not in any way an essential part of Spinoza's methodology. Such a conclusion,

however, is difficult to reconcile with Spinoza's remarks in the TTP about a priori deduction: If anyone wishes to persuade his fellows for or against anything which is not self-evident, he must deduce his contention from their admissions, and convince them either by experience or by ratiocination; either by appealing to facts of natural experience or to self-evident Intellectual axioms. Now unless the experience be of such a kind as to be clearly and distinctly understood, though It may convince a man, it will not have the same effect on his mind and disperse the clouds of his doubt so oompletely as when the doctrine - taught Is deduced entirely from intellectual axioms that is, by the mere power of the understanding and logical order, and this is especially the case In spiritual matters which have nothing to do with the senses. But the deduction of conclusions from general truths a priori, usually requires a long chain of argmaents, and, moreover, very great caution, acuteness, and self-restraint qualities which are

i20U'olfson, I, 58.

not often met with; therefore people prefer to he taught by experience rather than deduce their conclusion from a few axioms, and set them out in logical order.12! In view of Spinoza's remarks Wolfson's assertion hardly seems tenable. In arguing for his view, Wolfson observes that statements which Spinoza in one work calls Axioms are in another work called Propositions. Now it is true that indiscrimate mixing of axioms

and 1propositions in a given course of reasoning would be fatal in a mathematical system, where the direction of demonstrations is irreversible, but since Spinoza does not interchange axioms and propositions in the same course of reasoning, it is not accurate to conclude that he uses the terms "indiscriminately." Rather, ve

should conclude that he had difficulty in identifying those principles which are first, and that ideas which he presented as axiomatic in one context became propositions in another. The difficulty in

identifying primary notions cannot be used to show that Spinoza's method was not mathematical; it only shows that the application of mathematical method is difficult. But Wolfson's main point is this: "Spinoza never meant to imply

that by his use of the geometrical form his philosophy, like the geometry of Euclid, is the unfoldment of certain a priori self-evident truths." Yet when ve turn, at Wolfson's suggestion, to Oldenburg's

remarks in Epistle 3, and then go an, through our own initiative, to Spinoza's reply in Epistle U, ve find certain statements which

323CTP, cap. v. WL, II, 152.

Elves tr., I, 76-77-

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hardly serve to confirm Wolfson's interpretation, for there Spinoza writes: You proceed to object, that my axioms ought not to be ranked as universal notions. 1 will not dispute this point with you; but you further hesitate as to their truth, seeming to desire to show that their contrary is more probable. Consider, I beg, the definition which I gave of substance and attribute, for on that they all depend. When I say that 1 mean by substance that which is conceived through and in Itself; and that I mean by modification or accident that, which is in something else, and is conceived through that wherein it is, evidently it follows that substance is by nature prior to its accidents. For without the former the latter can neither be nor be conceived. Secondly, it follows that, besides substances and accidents, nothing exists really or externally to the Intellect. For everything is conceived either through itself or through something else, and the conception of it either involves or does not involve the conception of something else. Thirdly, it follows that things which possess different attributes have nothing in common. For by attribute I have explained that I mean something, of which the conception does not Involve the conception of anything else. Fourthly and lastly, it follows that, if two things have nothing in common, one cannot be the cause of the other. For, as there would be nothing in conmon between the effect and the cause, the whole effect would spring from nothing. As for your contention that God has nothing actually in ccsaaan with created things, I have maintained the exact opposite in my definition. 1 said tb God is a Being consisting of Infinite attributes, whereof each one is infinite or supremely perfect after its kind.122 Itis true that the order of demonstration which Spinoza follows in

this early epistle is not identical vlth the order in which he demonstrated similar propositions in the Ethics, but the difference What

in order between the two demonstrations is not the issue.

Wolfson wishes to maintain is that geometrical order meant nothing to

12^. k, WL, III, 10-11.

Elwes tr., II, 283 .

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Spinoza beyond the advantage it offered him if he pasted on to his thought the appearance of a form popular to contemporary taste, and that Spinoza never meant his u$e of this form to suggest that his philosophy unfolds from a priori self-evident truths. Tet in hie reply to Oldenburg, Spinoza insists that everything which follows in his demonstration both "depends" upon his primary definition and "evidently follows" from it. In insisting upon this to Oldenburg,

Spinoza implicitly claims that his philosophy does unfold from a priori self-evident truths. If we recollect the differences Spinoza insisted upon between demonstrations based upon facts learned through the senses and those based upon "self-evident Intellectual axioms," it will be clear that he regarded philosophy as in some sense an unfoldment of self-evident a priori truths. Book I and parts of

Book II of the Ethics illustrate that part of Spinoza's philosophy which is primarily a priori deduction, for once the existence of

God is established Spinoza immediately goes on to explain same of "those things which must necessarily follow from the essence of God or the Being eternal and infinite*.."^23 Volfson also asserts that geometrical synthetic demonstration "is nothing but valid syllogistic reasoning as practised throughout the history of philosophy," and he supports his thesis by attempting to identify Cartesian synthesis with Aristotelian and Scholastic syllogistic. Volfscn assumes that Spinoza's practice of synthesis

123E, ii, 73 . White tr., p. 79.

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follows that laid down by Descartes, and therefore conducts his analysis of Spinoza by means of an analysis of Descartes, in whose writings he finds the clearest exposition of the method he is analysing. It is clear that synthesis and syllogistic both are

kinds of deductive reasoning and are consequently generic ally similar. But Descartes everywhere insists upon a difference

between his practice of deduction and traditional syllogistic, and this difference prevents a total identification of the two.

Aristotle had taught that all demonstrative knowledge is deductive, and he insisted that syllogistic reasoning was the farm of all deduction. According to Aristotle the essence of

deductive reasoning lies in the necessary connection of major and minor terms by means of a middle term. Descartes discarded

the Aristotelian syllogism because he believed that the effort to frame thoughts in valid syllogistic forms fettered the mind. place of the Aristotelian middle term he substituted a process which he called immediate inference. According to Descartes In

deduction is not characterized by the search for a middle term necessarily connecting the minor and major terms, but rather by a mental comparison of two terms to perceive their comon likeness. The actual perception by the mind of a likeness between two terms is Immediate inference. Cartesian Inference, then, is a kind of

intuition, and It is obviously much freer than Aristotelian syllogistic Inference, because it eliminates the need to exhibit formally and in

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logical order the connections between terms.

The validity of

Cartesian inference is guaranteed by the simplicity of the mental apprehension of similarity, for, according to Descartes, an entirely simple apprehension must be clear and distinct and consequently true. The long chain of Inferences in a complex deduction Is necessarily true if each link has been discovered by an intuitive, immediate inference. Once a chain of inferences has been patiently established,

it is no lager necessary to review the whole chain in order to be assured of the truth of the remote consequences. However, although memory or recollection obviates the need of a complex review of all the steps connecting remote consequences to primary notions, only intuitive immediate inference guarantees the validity of such consequences. Thus Cartesian synthesis differs from Aristotelian syllogistic in at least two respects: first, it presupposes an analysis aimed

at identifying the primary or simple notions of any field of study; second, in deductive reasoning it replaces Aristotle's middle term vlth the process of intuitive or immediate inference. Consequently,

Cartesian synthesis and traditional syllogistic are specifically different forms of deductive reasoning. Although they are

generlcally similar, In actual practice their specific differences lead to a different way of going to work on a problem, and i different manner of working will leave its Impress upon ever., stage of effort. It is commonly agreed that the synthetic demonstrations in the

26U

Ethics presuppose a background of thought which is not expressed in the Ethics. According to Wolfson, that bakground was a carefully thought out, eyllogistically reasoned rcbbinico-scholastic philosophy, which Spinoza broke up into parts and indiscriminately labelled "axioms," "definitions," "postulates," and so forth. We

suggest, however, that Spinoza insists upon deductive reasoning from a priori axioms as the best form of demonstration; that mathematical synthesis presupposes mathematical analysis; that the definitions and axioms he prefixed to each book of the Ethics must have been arrived at by analysis; and that this analysis is the background of thought behind the synthetic development of the Ethics. We therefore conclude that Spinoza's method in working out the Ethics vas an application of Cartesian universal mathematics and not an indiscriminate redaction of a traditional syllogistic deduction. Concerning the questions raised about the geometrical

form of the Ethics, therefore, ve conclude that Spinoza vas under no compulsion to use Cartesian mathematical reasoning but that he chose to do so, and that from its very beginning he vorked out the Ethics by analytical reflection and synthetic development. The mathematical framework which Spinoza adopted in the Ethics may seem to the reader a cumbersome business, but it gives certain advantages vhich today are secured by similar methods. The

framevork makes cross references vlthin the text a simple matter. Many vriters nowadays secure the same advantage by numbering the

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paragraphs of their books in a frequently complex serial progression. Spinozas list of definitions at the beginning of each Book may be

regarded as a list of the basic terms entering into the discussion, and so with his postulates and axioms. The third book of the Ethics,

"Concerning the Origin and Nature of the Emotions/' is an interesting example of the difference between basic definitions and derived definitions, for that books opens with a list of three definitions and closes with a list of forty-eight derived definitions. The geometrical framework is in some ways a protection

against redundancy, although Spinoza confesses that the effort to deduce propositions in the most demonstrative manner sometimes requires a roundabout exposition. Thus, although the geometrical

framework enables the author to avoid repeating himself unnecessarily, it requires that he state his material over again in certain cases. Perhaps the best advantage the author secures from his method is the protection he derives from it against significant emission. When Spinoza undertook to reduce Descartes' analytic exposition of philosophy to synthetic form, he discovered that Descartes had omitted certain steps that were vital to his reasoning. These omissions

Spinoza sought to make good for Descartes out of Descartes' principles, in the Prlnclpla Rillosophiae Cartes ina.e T The example of Descartes* omissions and the awareness that synthetic geometrical demonstration easily reveals such amiss lens must have influenced Spinoza In his choice of this method of expa&tion; it is a technique for securing

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the complete enumerations that Descartes called for in the fourth rule of method described in the D'scourses. On the whole, the geometrical method helps to secure some of the characteristics of clear thinking which our contemporary logics describe: definition of terms; explicit identification of key terms and principles; self-consistency and avoidance of redundancy; ease of cross-reference. In addition, it affords a protection against

important omissions by deliberately relating each development in the thesis to what has preceded.

If ve examine Spinoza' practice of deduction in the Ethics we notice that thought is made to advance serially through the constant application of an identical process. The process is a complex

activity vithin which three phases may be distinguished: a. b. Formulating a true or adequate idea. Discerning true Judgments vithin ideas that have beenformulated in order to make these Judgments explicit. Demonstrating that the Judgments which have been made explicit were actually implicit in the original idea.

c.

The first two phases of this activity lead to new knowledge; the third phase stabilizes the advances made through deductive discovery by demonstrating the validity and truth of the advances. In a mind habitually accustomed to conduct all its inquiries according to the standard of a true idea, so that all the materials of its thoughts vere true materials and all the deductions made from these true materials vere true deductions, there would be no occasion for the third phase or demonstration. no need far demonstration. But only God has

Consequently, although the third phase

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is not essential to deductive inference, it is a necessary conjunct to it for human philosophers. In Spinoza's deductive inference the first phase is prior to the second in nature, though not necessarily in time, and Spinoza tells us more about this phase than about the other. he states: In the Ethics

"In the mind there is no volition or affirmation and

negation except that vhich the idea, in so far as it is an idea, involves."12** An understanding of this proposition is so essential to an understanding of Spinoza's conception of deductive Inference that ve feel Justified in quoting Spinoza's demonstration of it. In the mind there exists (Prop. 1 + 8 , pt. 2) no absolute faculty of willing or not willing. Only individual volitions exist, that is to say, this and that affirmation and this and that negation. Let us conceive, therefore, any Individual volition, that is, any mode of thought, by which the mind affirms that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. This affirmation involves the conception or idea of the triangle, that is to say, without it the affirmation cannot be conceived. For to say that A must involve the conception is the same as saying that A cannot be conceived without B. Moreover, without the idea of the triangle this affirmation (Ax. 3j Ft. 2) cannot be, and it can therefore neither be nor be conceived without that idea. But this idea of the triangle must involve this same affirmation that its three angles are equal to two right angles. Therefore also, vice versa. this idea of the triangle without this affirmation can neither be nor be conceived. Therefore (Def. 2 , pt. 2 ) this affirmation pertains to the essence of the idea of the triangle, nor is it anything else besides this. Whatever, too, we have said of this volition (since it has been taken arbitrarily) applies to all other volitions, that is to say, they are nothing but ideas.125 By "will" Spinoza always understands "a faculty of affirming or

II, 1*9.

WL, I

113.

White tr., p. 119. W L , I, U 3-IH*. White tr., p. 12 0 .

1 2 , II, 1*9, Demonstration.

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denying, but not a desire -- a faculty...by which the mind affirms or denies that which is true or false, and not a desire by which the mind seeks a thing or turns away from it."12^ Spinoza means judgment. By will, then,

But by Judgment he does not mean affirming Judgment in this regard Spinoza defines Judgnent

or denying that something is true or false. can be simply the assertion of an opinion.

as affirming or denying that which is false or true: that is, the thing which is false or time precedes the affirming or denying.

What a judgment presupposes is an idea which involves the Judgment. Thus, for Spinoza, every judgaent presupposes an idea; the Judgment cannot be conceived without the idea. In this sense, the idea

is prior in nature to the Judgment, but the idea need not be prior in time to the Judgment for since idea and Judgment are essentially related, the Judgment involves the idea in such a way that the mind can be led to the idea by the judgment. A, the

idea, is essential to B, the judgment, and B, the judgment, is essential to A, the idea, so that neither can be conceived without the other, and a true conception of either involves the conception of the other. This will perhaps be clear when we recollect

Spinoza4 s definition of essence; I say that to the essence of anything pertains that, which being given, the thing Itself is necessarily posited, and, being taken away, the thing itself is necessarily taken; or, in other words, that without which the thing can neither be nor be conceived, and which in its turn cannot be nor be conceived without the thing. 127
126e, II, Scholium. W L , I, 113. White tr.,p. 1191212, II, Def. 2. W L , I, 73- White tr., p. 79-

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Thus, since a true idea and the time Judgment based on that idea are essentially related neither can be nor be conceived without the other, so that given a true understanding of a true idea, ve know, at least implicitly, the judgments involved in that idea; and given a true understanding of a true Judgment, ve knov, at least implicitly, the true idea upon which the Judgment is based.

So from the idea we can proceed to the judgment, and fran the Judgment we can proceed to the idea. But since the idea is prior

in nature to the JudgjnentB which are involved in it, it would be more in accord with the order of nature to proceed from idea to Judgment. And the idea is prior in nature to the judgment simply

because the idea is the whole of which all the true affirmations which it involves are parts: One judgment seldom exhausts an To have a true idea

idea, even though it truly involves the idea.

means, according to Spinoza, "to know a thing perfectly or as well as possible."1 ^ Thus, thefirst act of the mind, when it

philosophizes in due order, is to formulate a true idea. But which idea should first be formulate For Spinoza the

idea from which deductive inference begins must be an idea which contains implicitly all the true judgments that can be made about reality. This idea is the idea of God. Spinoza assures himself asserts,"...since

ofthe validity of his deductive procedure when he

12%, n , i 3 , Schol. ...veram namque habere ideaa nihil allud signiflcat, quaa perfects slve optime rem cognoscere. 7YL, I, 108. White tr. , p. llh.

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all

tilings are in God and are conceived through Him, it follows

that we can deduce from this knowledge many things which we can know adequately."^29 On this view, the best kind of knowledge

open to man is knowledge which ^advances from an adequate idea of the formal essence of certain attributes of God to the adequate knowledge of the essence of things.130 "Things" we must always

remember means for Spinoza either eternal things which flow innedlately from God and constitute the laws of nature, or temporal things perceptible to sense. Thus, the right order of

deductive inference requires that it begin frcrn the idea of God, and more especially from the idea of the formal essence of God's attributes: that is, from the formal essence of thought or from

the formal essence of extension, since these are the two divine attributes known by the human mind.

Thus far we have seen nothing in Spinoza's practice of deductive inference which differs from the method of immediate inference as practiced in Cartesian mathematics. Now Descartes

had observed that the demonstrations of the mathematicians give no assurance that the objects they deal with exist. Discourses he asserted: . . .1 also noticed that there was nothing at all in them to assure me of the existence of their object. For, to take an example, I saw very well that if we suppose a triangle to be given, the three angles must certainly be equal to two
12S, II V 7, Sc hoi. VVL, I, 121. White tr., p. 118. White tr., p. 112.

In the

13QE, II, fco, Schol. 2.

VVL, I, 106.

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right angles; but for all that 1 saw no reason to be assured that there was any such triangle in existence, while on the contrary, on reverting to the examination of the idea which I hud of a Perfect Being, I found that in this case existence was implied in it in the same manner in which the equality of its three angles to two right angles is implied in the idea of a triangle; or in the idea of a sphere, that all the points on its surface are equidistant from its center, or even more evidently still. Consequently it is ut least as certain that God, who is a Being so perfect, iB, or exists, us any demonstration of geometry can possibly be.131

Descartes' point is that although the demonstrations of deductive Inference as practiced by the mathematicians are final, the knowledgetheir conclusions give is not existential. He then

points out that the knowledge of the existence of God is as final as any of the conclusions in geometry, and that this knowledge involves a knowledge of the existence of its object. Spinoza was

familiar with Descartes' thought and he makes use of it for his own purposes. Like Descartes, he claims that the demonstrations

of deductive Inference as practiced by the mathematicians are final, but give no knowledge of the existence of their objects. He agrees with Descartes that the idea of God Involves necessary existence, and he explicitly adds that all ideas presuppose the idea of God and that to the extent fhat they are related to the idea of God truly their objects exist. As he puts it: "All ideas, in so

far as they are related to God, are true." * 3 2 And the reason for this is simply stated: "All the ideas which ore in God always agree with Consequently, if all

those things of which they are the ideas."^33

^31ji8course de la Methode. IV, 3 6 . Descurtes Selections (Scribner's, 1927), p. 33.

132B, II, 32 . VVL, I, 100 . White tr., p. 106. I331bid., Demonstration. WL, I, 100-101. White tr., p. 107.

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our ideas are deduced from the idea of God then they must correspond to their objects, bo thatknowledge of such ideas is both demonstrative and existential. Much of the Ethics then may be described as a Deductive

statement of what Spinoza could see in the idea of God.

inference has existential value when it begins fran the idea of a being which involves necessary existence and perfect knowledge.

The reader may object that although Spinozu thought he had found a way of giving existential significance to things derived mathematically, he was mistaken; but the objection is irrelevant to Spinozu's idea of his method. Whether Spinoza was right or

wrong does not change the fact that his method prescribes that all ideas be related to the idea of God, and that any Ideas so related are true ideas in the sense that their objects do exist. Two methodical questions remain: What is the connection

between the analytic and synthetic phases of Spinoza s methodology? What is it that guides the mind in the deductions it makes from the idea of the first thing of all? The connection is the idea of God. Spinoza begins the Ethics

with a demonstration of the existence of substance, the existence of infinite substance, and the existence of God. Demonstration,

as we pointed out above, is the effort to show that certain explicit judgments derived from an Initial idea are actually implicit in the idea. The demonstration that God exists, then,

presupposes that the existence of God is implicit in the idea of God, and, consequently, presupposes the idea of God. To formulate

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an adequate idea of God was the ultimate purpose of the analytic phase of Spinoza's method, even though in the frafjnent of the IDLE which we possess Spinoza had not succeeded In showing us how the adequate idea of God could be formulated by introspection upon the contents of consciousness. Ethics, we may conjecture that Since he proceeded to the

Spinoza was himself sufficiently

30

satisfied that the idea of God could be

formulated.

Nevertheless,

it remains that Spinoza has not completed his account of analysis, and consequently did not have a methodical assurance that the mind could rise intuitively to the starting point of a true philosophy. Failing in his attempt to establish a method of God, he had to devise another method for The method he actually followed hehad

intuiting the idea of beginning the Ethics.

described in the Tractatus Theologlco-Pollticus:

We doubt of the existence of God, and consequently of all else, so long as ve have no clear and distinct idea of God, but only a confused one. For as he who knows not rightly the nature of a triangle, knows not that its three angles are equal to two right angles, so he who conceives the Divine nature confusedly, does not see that it pertains to the nature of God to exist. Nov, to conceive the nature of God clearly and distinctly, it is necessary to pay attention to a certain number of very simple notions, called general notions, and by their help to associate the conceptions which we form of the attributes of the Divine nature. It then, for the first tine, becomes clear to us, that God exists necessarily, that He is omnipresent, and that all our conceptions involve in themselves the nature of God and are conceived through it. Lastly, we see that all our adequate ideas are true. 1 3 * *
13*>TTP, Annotations. VI. VVL, II, 315. Elwes tr., I, 270.

2 7 1 *

Ac cording to this formula we can arrive ut a clear and distinct conception of the nuture of God by reflecting upon a group of common notions, and from them form a conception of the attribute; of the Divine neture. From this conception we can see not only

tliat God exists and is omnipresent, but that all our conceptions involve the nature of God and are conceived through it. By

"adequate notions" Spino2a means "those things which are common to everything, and which are equally in the part and in the whole."135 Although such notions are taken as adequate, they do not pertain to the essence of things: "That which is common to everything,...and

which is equally in the part and in the whole, forms the essence of no individual thing."136 Nevertheless, conman notions "are the As Spinoza

foundations of our reasoning" and lead to true knowledge. says in the Ethics:

"It clearly appears that we perceive many things

and form universal ideas...from our possessing common notions and adequate ideas of the properties of things. call reason and knowledge of the second kind."137 This I shall This knowledge

is inferior only to knowledge of the third kind, intuitive science, which "advances from an adequate knowledge of the formal essence of certain attributes of God to the adequate knowledge of the essence of things."138

135E, II, 38 . W L

I, 103.

White tr. , p. 109. White tr., p. 108. White tr., p. 112.

13%, II, 37 . W L , I, 102. 137E, II, 1 + 0 , Schol. 2.

W L , I, 106.

I38 ihid.

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According to the formula expressed in the TDIK, the mind could move * . c e knowledge of the essential nature of God by reflecting upon its true ideas and upon the essence of its own powers. The

formula of the treatise on method differs from that used for the Ethics as intuitive knowledge differs from inferential knowledge, so that if the intuitive method attempted in the treatise on method could have been worked out, a way would have been opened to tee mind for forming the beat pc sible knowledge of the idea of God. Spinoza did not work out this way, and the point at

which he failed to do so is marked by the abrupt ending of the treatise on method where we find him beginning to seek for the foundation of the properties of the mind. But even in the treatise

,on method the attempt to arrive at intuitive knowledge of the idea of God is assisted by the use of common notions, for the properties of the understanding which he lists at the end of the TDIE are "cammton notions" and not intuitive perceptions of essences. The

failure of the treatise on method, then, is a failure to find an intuitive *ay to a knowledge of the idea of God; the second best way remained available and was chosen as the beginning for the Ethics. '

The common notions which form the basis of the demonstration of God in the Ethics are the notions of substance, attribute, mode, caase aul, of eternity, of things finite in suo genere, together with the list of seven axioms. Beflection upon these notions leads

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first to the idea of substance and its existence, to recognition that every subst-nce is necessarily infinite, that God is a substance of infinite attributes, and that apart from God no substance can be or be conceived.-^9 With the demonstration that "Whatever is, is in

God, and nothing can either be or be conceived without God" Spinoza is on the wry to the deduction of the immediate properties of God's n a t u r e . T o formulate the ideas and judgments which follow immediately from the idea of the nature of God is the proper work of deductive method as described in the TDXE, for it leads to the knowledge of "eternal things." But one of the first things learned about the nature and properties of God is this: "Prom the necessity of the divine nature

infinite numbers of things in infinite ways (that is to say, all things which can be conceived by the infinite intellect)must What then is to guide the human mind (which is only apart follow."11* 1

of the

infinite intellect) in the deductions it makes from the divine nature? It is obvious that the human intellect cannot traverse the infinite possibility afforded by the divine nature. Actually the number of

eternal things that Spinoza cam deduce from the idea of the divine nature is quite limited, and Includes only the later propositions of Book I of the Ethics and some of the earlier propositions of Book II. But the idea of God was considered in the treatise on method to be essential to philosophical thought because It provided a principle of unity for our understanding. If an infinity of things folio* from

139Cf . 2, I, Definitions, Axioms, and Propositions 1-15.

lkZ, I, 15. I, 16.

W L , I, 1 * 7 . W L , I, 51.

White tr., p. 52. White tr., p. 55.

277

this idea, there would seem to he need of a principle to govern the organizing of ideas derived from the idea of God. This difficulty

disappears when we 6ee that Spinoza finds a limited number of eternal laws in the idea of God. Whether eternal laws in the infinite mind

of God are infinite or not is beside the point, for the human mind can perceive only a certain number of eternal principles. The fact that

they can be perceived provides the mind with a true instrument of knowledge, and a center of organization, for by relating all our sense-derived knowledge of things to these principles we can relate our knowledge to its true starting point and be confident that the picture of reality we build is truly a partial representation of the structure of reality. Thus our own experience and dominant interests

will set the problems we investigate, while our knowledge of eternal principles will make possible a true and orderly knowledge of these problems. Since Spinoza's dominant interest is ethical and religious, he turns to the problem of human nature, mind and happiness. As he observes in his brief introduction to Part II of the Ethics:
I pass an now to explain those t hings which must necessarily follow from the essence of God or the Being eternal and infinite not, Indeed, to explain all these things, for we have demonstrated (Prop. 16, pt. I) that an infinitude of things must follow in an infinite number of ways, but to consider those things only which may conduct us, as it were by the hand, to a knowledge of the human , mind and its highest happiness.1^2

From Book II onward in the Ethics we are no longer concerned merely with deductions from the idea of God, but are constantly relating things

^ 2 e , i i . VVL, I, 73*

White tr., p. 79-

278

of daily experience to the eternal principles derived from the idea of God. In short, we are moving into the realm covered

by the third part of method, the empirical-synthetic method, which enables us to determine empirical entities with sufficient exactness to enable us to relate them to the eternal laws which alone can truly explain them. Spinoza's practice of the third

kind of method could be investigated throughout Books II to IV in the Ethics, but although this would be a valuable study, it Is necessarily complex. For our purposes, the nature of Spinoza's

use of the third phase of method can be seen most easily in the correspondence with Boyle.

3.

Empirical-synthesis as illustrated in the correspondence with Boyle.

The correspondence between Spinoza and Robert Boyle, the English empiric noted today for his discovery that the volume of a gas varies Inversely with its pressure, has always been of interest to those who see in it an intimate example of the differences between the British empirical cast of thought and characteristic continental rationalism. Although the correspondence is referred to as the

Boyle-Spinoza correspondence, the two men never addressed each other directly, but carried on their discussion through the mediation of Henry Oldenburg, first Secretary of the Royal Society. Oldenburg

initiated the correspondence in his letter 1d Spinoza of 11/21 October, l66l (Zp. 5)> la which he writes: "Receive the little book which I

279

had promised you, and send me in return your, opinion of it, and especially of the experiments it gives on Nitre, and Fluidity, and Firmness.''^^3 The little book he refers to was "an advance copy of

the Latin translation of Certain Physiological Essays by Boyle."Ikk Spinoza studied the book in part and sent his opinion of it in a series of notes to Oldenburg several months later, early in 1662 (Ep. 6 ). In July of 1662 Oldenburg replied to Bpinoza (Ep. 7),

acknowledging receipt of Spinoza's reflections, thanking him on behalf of Boyle, and apologizing that Boyle was too preoccupied to be able to send his answer at that time.^ 5 It was, indeed,

only in April of 1663 that Boyle got around to commenting on Spinoza's objections (Ep. 11). Spinoza sent his reply to these

comments in his letter of July, 1663 (Ep. 13), and Oldenburg replied izmnediately that he would convey Spinoza's remarks to Boyle "as soon as he has returned to town. (Ep. lk).^*^ In the following

month, August, 1663 , Boyle sent his reply (Ep. 16) to Spinoza's second statement of his objections, consisting of a restatement of his earlier vlevs, and the correspondence reached an inconclusive end.The series of exchanges covered nearly tvoyears, beginning

with Oldenburg's letter in October, l66 l and ending with Boyle's

^ ^ p . 5.

VVL, III, 11 .Wolf, pp. 83-8h.

l ^ o l f , p. 379 . Ik^p. 7 . l^Ep. Ik. VVL, III, 26. Wolf, pp. 99-100. W L , III, 50 . Wolf, p. 132.

280

letter of August,

1663

. The tardiness of Boyle's replies and the

tone of his remarks suggest that the whole business was distasteful to him; and Spinoza' 6 letters are full of sarcasms about the "Very illustrious Mr. Boyle." Left to themselves, it is unlikely

that Boyle and Spinoza would have bothered to write much to one another; it is to Henry Oldenburg's indefutigueable mediation that we owe this interesting exchange. The correspondence between Spinoza and Boyle centers upon Boyle's experiment on the redintegration of Nitre /rock salt or saltpetre7 and on the validity of his inferences from the experiment. Boyle's purpose in publishing his account and

evaluation of the experiment was "to show that the doctrines of the new and more solid Philosophy are elucidated by clear experiments, and that these /experiments7 can be excellently explained without the forms, qualities, and trivial elements of the Schools Although Galileo, Bacon and Descartes had all

argued against the existence of substantial forms, Boyle seems to have believed that they had not sufficiently demonstrated that such forms are gratuitous and unfounded, for he remarks in Epistle 11 that "he has not found these matters conveyed and discussed so clearly by other writers."^ But since this question

had long been settled for Spinoza and did not seems a live issue, he could not credit Boyle when the latter claimed that bis

1^712 . 16.

WL

III, 53-

Wolf, p. 136 .

l fcOEfc. 11.

W L , III, 36 . Wolf, p. 112.

281

redintegration of Nitre was not intended to be a "really philosophic and perfect analysis of Nitre."1^9 And so throughout the

correspondence he attributes to Boyle the intention of demons trating that the fundamental nature of Nitre is essentially heterogeneous, and he himself undertakes to show that the experiment can be interpreted to demonstrate that Nitre is essentially homogeneous: I, indeed, did not think, I could not even have persuaded myself, that the very learned Mr. Boyle had set before himself in his Treatise on Nitre no other end than merely to show that the puerile and trivial doctrine of Substantial Forms, Qualities, etc., rests on a weak foundation; but since I persuaded myself that the very illustrious Mr. Boyle wished to explain the nature of Nitre, namely, that it is a heterogeneous body, consisting of fixed and volatile parts, I wished to show in my explanation (as I think I showed sufficiently and more than sufficiently) that we can explain all the Phenomena of Nitre, at least all those that I know, very easily, even if we do not admit that Nitre is a heterogeneous body, but regard it a 6 homogeneous.^50 Since Spinoza refuses to accept Boyle's statement of his intentions, the correspondence of the two men proceeds at cross-purposes; paradoxically, it is precisely this that makes the correspondence valuable evidence for the nature of Spinoza's views on empirical method. Boyle's experiment on the redintegration of Nitre is described by Abraham Wolf.151 Here, relying on Wolf, we reproduce briefly

the steps of the actual experiment and the significance attached 11. 15^p. WL, III, 35. i * 5 . Wolf, p. 110. Wolf, pp. 12^-125 .

13 . W L , III

C f . Volf, pp. 379-386.

282

to the experiment by Boyle. If we would reproduce his experiment, Boyle tell, us first to piece a weighed amount of Nitre in a crucible end heat it until the Nitre If molten; to the molten Nitre add a small live coal, . * n d when the boiling, hissing and flashing of the molten Nitre subsides, add more coals until all kindling and effervescence ceases. Thereupon heat the mixture strongly for fifteen minutes The residue is "fixed

until all "voldtile parts" are driven off. Nitre."

Divide the fixed Nitre into two equal parts.

Take the first

part and, having dissolved it in water, drop Spirit of Nitre on it until it no longer effervesces. Then drop Spirit of Nitre Set both

on the second part without first dissolving it in water. solutions near an open window to'evaporate.

Within a few hours

the glass containing the first mixture will contain saline particles, which, to Judge from the shape of their aystals and their manner of burning, resemble and indeed are Nitre. Since

the second mixture crystallizes very slowly, it is necessary to \ add water to the solution and evaporate it. Shortly, saline

particles will appear in this solution, and these particles, to Judge from the shape of their crystals and their manner of burning, also resemble and indeed are Nitre. But particles of the two

solutions, when first placed on the tongue, have a slightly different taste.

28 3

2o much for the actual experiment. of the experiment Boylse ;nys that it:

In describing tne significance

...ceems to afford.us an instance, by which we may discern that Motion, figure and D sposition of parts, and such like primary and mechanical . . f feet ions (if I may so call them) of Matter may suffice to produce those more secondary Affections of Bodies which are wont to be called Sensible Qualities.^52 He goes on to explain how the heat, effervescent sound, color, taste, odor and inflammability of Nitre are all produced by the motion, figure and disposition of its two heterogeneous components, inert fixed Nitre, and volatile Spirit of Nitre. Turning now to Spinoza's analysis of Boyle's experiment in Epistle 6 . we find first that Spinoza intends to note only "'those points which seem to be obscure or insufficiently demonstrated."^^ Boyle, claims Spinoza, "infers from this experiment on the redintegration of Nitre that Nitre is something heterogeneous, consisting of fixed and volatile p a r t s . B u t , comments Spinoza,

"in order that this conclusion may be pronounced valid, yet another experiment is required by which it would be shown that the Spirit of Nitre is not really Nitre."155 Moreover, adds Spinoza, the

redintegration of Nitre can be explained more simply than Boyle supposes:

152Quoted by Wolf, p. 382. 153Eg. 6 . W L , III, 12.

6. WL

Wolf, p. 85 . Wolf, p. 85 .

III, 13.

l"52p. 6 . W L

III, 13 . Wolf, p. 85 .

281*

In order, then, to explain this phenomenon in the simplest possible wuy, I will posit no other distinction between Spirit of Nitre and Nitre itself than that which is sufficiently manifest. namely that the particles of the latter are in u state of rest. while those of the former agitate each other with no little vehemence.^56 Spinoza then makes a second postulate, this time regarding fixed Nitre: With regard to the fixed salt 1 shall suppose that this has nothing to do with the constitution of the essence of Nitre; but I shall consider it as the dregs of Nitre, from which even the Spirit of Nitre (as I find) is not free; although reduced to fine powder they float about in it in large quantities. . * 5 7 Now Boyle had said that Nitre is composed of fixed Nitre and Spirit of Nitre, and that these two components are heterogeneous. Spinoza, by denying that fixed Nitre is essential to Nitre and by identifying Spirit of Nitre and Nitre, a fortiori secures his conclusion that Nitre is a homogeneous body. It only remains for

him to show that all the phenomena exhibited in Boyle's experiment with Nitre can be explained by assuming that the particles of Nitre differ in quantity of motion or rest, and Spinoza has no difficulty in shoving this. Had Spinoza's argument against Boyle rested entirely on these postulates, it is unlikely that Boyle would have answered, no matter how Oldenburg might have pleaded with him. But Spinoza offered

seme simple experiments in support of his postulates, thus challenging Boyle on his own grounds. The most important experiment is his

second one, by means of which he infers that fixed Nitre is not a

156e. 6 . W L , III, 13. ^Tgg. 6 . W L , h i

Wolf, p. 86 . Wolf, p. 86 .

13-11 *.

285

constituent of Nitre:

The object of the second experiment is to show that the fixed parts are only the dregs of Nitre; because I find that the more Nitre is filtered, the more volatile it is, and the more apt? to crystallize. For when I placed crystuls of purified or filtered Nitre in a glass goblet like A, and poured in a little cold water, it partly evaporated with the cold water, and these fugitive particles adhered to the rim of the glass at the top and coagulated into small icicles.15 Having already assumed that volatile Spirit of Nitre is identical with N tre, Spinoza infers from his experiment that fixed Nitre is no more than an inert residue in the presence of which Nitre becomes less volatile extremely volatile. and in the absence of which it becomes

But since its presence or absence does not

essentially change the volatile Spirit of Nitre, fixed Nitre is not an essential constituent of Nitre. Consequently Spinoza has

confirmation for his postulate that there is "no other distinction between Spirit of Nitre and Nitre itself than that which is sufficiently manifest, namely that the particles of the letter are in a state of rest, while those of the former agitate each other with no little vehemence." ^-59 We must conclude then that Nitre is a homogeneous body. Before evaluating the significance of Spinozas objections to Boyle's experiment, it will be helpful to have several points from Boyle's reply to Spinoza before us. It was a year before Oldenburg The first point Boyle

relayed Boyle's reply to Spinoza (Ep. 11).

15% p . 6. 159Ep. 6.

WL, WL,

III

17.

Wolf

pp. 89-90.

III, 13.

Wolf, p. 86.

286

makes it

indefense of his experiment and the inferences drawn from in facts while Cpinoza dealt in suppositions.

is that he dealt

...the Author Jh oyie/ says further that h:c experiment with Nitre was enough and more than enough to show that by chemical analysis the whole mass of Nitre broke up into parts which differed from one another and frcm the original whole; afterwards. however. it was bo recompounded out of these parts and reconstituted again that it fell little short of its original weight. He adds, too, that he has shown that this is the actual fact; he did not deal with the process of the thing with which your conjecture seems to be concerned, nor did he determine anything about it, since to do so would have been beyond his design. Meanwhile, he thinks that your suppositions about the process, your view that the fixed salt of Nitre is as it were its dregs, and other similar suppositions are gratuitous and unproved.1^0 Boyle emphasizes this difference between himself and Spinoza when he expressly adds that he "belongs to the number of those who have not so much confidence in their reason as not to wish that the Phenomena should agree with their reason."l6 l Boyle evidently saw

in Spinoza a Cartesian who refused to accept Bacons maxim that man "can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature." Then Boyle remarks

on the difference between scientific experiments of the sort he seeks to perform and common or unscientific experiments: Moreover, he says that there is a great difference between common experiments, where we do not know what Nature contributes end what other factors intervene and those experiments in which it is known for certain what the additional factors a r e . 162

i6QE. 11 . W L , III, 35. 11 . W L

l62lbld. Wolf III, 36. p. 113.

Wolf, pp. 110-111.

Wolf, pp.112-113 .

On the whole Boyle thinks thut Spinoza's experiments are of tne common variety. But hpinoza's second experiment surfers , also from being

beside tne point at issue: ...to your observation on the effect of purificat,'on, the Author replies that in this purification,. Nitre is, for the most part freed from a certain kind of salt which is like common salt; and that the ascending and forming into icicles is common to this and to other salts, and depends on the pressure of the air and certain other causes which must be discussed elsewhere, and h.ve nothing to do with the present .piest ion. 3 These caanents of Boyle's are pertinent to our discussion because in them he expressly raises the question of right method in natural philosophy. Spinoza replied to Boyle several months later in Epistle 16 . In his reply he admits that the common and doubtful experiments which he adduced differ greatly from experiments wherdin it is quite certain what the contributory factors are but he does not see that

Boyle has succeeded any more than he has in making an exact and scientific experiment. reproducing at length: . . I do not yet see that the very Illustrious Mr. Boyle has explained to us the nature of the things which are employed in this thing, thati& the nature of the calx of Nitre or of Spirit of Nitre; so that these two seem to us no less obscure than the things which I Instanced, namely common lime and water. from the mixture of which heat results. With regard to wood, I admit that thisbody Is more composite than Nitre; but as longas I do not know the nature of either and the way in which heat arises in either of them, what I ask, does it matter? Then I do not know on whit ground the very Illustrious Mr. Boyle ventures to assert that, in this
l63rbid.

His objections on this point are worth

wolf

p. 112

283

tiling of which we are speaking, he knows what Nature contributes. H j w , I _ pray, will he be able to ahow us that this he . t did not arise from some very fine mutterY Perhaps because so little was lost of the original weight? Eut if nothing had been lost, I do not think taat any conclusion could be drawn. F o r we see how easily tilings cun be dyed a certain colour from a very small' amount of matter, without becoming thereby sensibly heavier or lighter. Therefore, I can doubt and not without reason whether certain things rn^y not perhaps have been present wh'ch could not be observed by any sense; especially so long it is not known how all those variations, which the very illustrious Mr. Boyle observed when experiment incould arise from the raid bodies. Indeed 1 hold it for certain that the heat and that effervescence which the very illustrious Mr. Boyle describes -rose from adventitious matter.^1 * Here Spinoza accepts Boyle's ideal of scientific experiment, but he denies that Boyle's experiment is scientific, for it has not sufficiently eliminated the possible effects of adventitious matter. Spinoza suggests that the grossness of human senses

makes it difficult to say confidently of any experiment that all the contributory factors have been identified. Spinoza is not

without some justification in the eye of contemporary natural investigators, for in comparison with the exquisite precision of modern techniques the efforts of Boyle seem crude and indecisive. The burden of Spinoza's objection is that the observations of sense unaided by instruments, are seldom precise enough for

decisive results. In the same letter Spinoza makes clear what he thinks the object of the natural philosopher should be. 13 . W L Having persuaded

^Ep.

III, pp. V M 8 .

Wolf, pp. 128-129 .

289

.linseif thut Boyle w_e attempting a phiiosophic.il account of the nature of Nitre th t: ...it was not neceEGary for me to show thut the fixed ..alt was the d r e g . ' - of Nitre, but only to suppose it, in order that I might see how the very illustrious Mr. Boyle could show me that this salt was not the dregs but was absolutely necessary to make up the essence of Nitre which could not be conceived without it; since, as I say I thought that the very illustrios Mr. Boyle wished to show this. 165 In postulating that fixed Nitre was not really Nitre, says Spinoza he hoped to force from Boyle a demonstration that fixed Nitre Vas absolutely necessary for constituting the essence of Nitre. Thus Spinoza reveals his conviction that it is the business of natural philosophers to seek demonstrative knowledge of the essential nature of natural bodies. But this object alone: ...I willingly admit that this redintegration of Nitre is indeed an excellent experiment for investigating the very nature of Nitre, that is, when we have first learnt the Mechanical principles of philosophy and that all variations in bodies come about in accordance with the laws of Mechanics; but I deny thut this fdlows any more clearly arid more evidently from the experiment just mentioned than from many other cannon experiments, from which. however, this does not follow.l6o The results of scientific experiment says Spinoza, must be interpreted adds Spinoza, cannot be attained by experiment Spinoza explains concerning h ' . s object ions

13.

WL,

III, III, 1*7

Wolf, p. 125. Wolf, pp. 127-128.

13 . W L

in the light of the Mechunical principle:, of philosophy

Thus everywhere t h r o u g h o u t Jiis c o r r e s p o n d e n c e stresses three principles 1. w i t h Boyle, Bpinoz<i

of n a t u r e ! p h i l o s o p h y :

T h e o b j e c t of n-stur.il p h i l o s o p h y is t o giv e a p e r f e c t a n d p h i l o s o p h i c a l a n a l y s i s fcf the e s s e n t i a l n a t u r e of n a t u r a l b o d i e s .

2.

Scientific experiments must be sufficiently precise to determine the principal contributory factors. The results of scientific experiment must be interpreted in the light of the mechunical principles of philosophy.

3-

Here it will be useful to recall the statements which Spinoza made about deductive and empirical method in the final pages of the TDIE; ...there seems to be no small difficulty in arriving at the knowledge of these particular things, for to conceive them all at once would far surpass the powers of the human understanding. The arran&oent whereby one thing is understood before another, as we have stated; should not be sought from their series of existence nor from eternal things. For the latter are all by nature simultaneous. Other aids are therefore needed besides those employed for understanding eternal things and their lavs; however, this is not the place to recount such aids, nor is there any need to do so, until we have acquired a sufficient knowledge of eternal things and their infallible lavs, and until the nature of our senses has become plain to us. Before betaking ourselves to seek knowledge of particular things, it will be reasonable to speak of such aids, as all tend to teach us the mode of employing our senses, and to make certa'n experiments under fixed rules and arrangement which may suffice to determine the object of our inquiry, so that we may therefrom infer what laws of eternal things it has been produced under and may gain an insight

291

into 't3 inmost nature, . s i will duly show. Uere, to return to r a y purpose, J will only endeivor to set forth whet seems necessary for enabling us to attain to knowledge of eternal th'ngs.^l' here too Splnoz- asserts th..t the object of natural philosophy i s to ttein a knowledge of the inmost nature (intlms ec-entlu) of

things; that i knowledge of infallible eternal laws is a necessary but not a sufficient condition for fulfilling this object; that a knowledge of the methods of exact observation and experiment is also a necessary but not a sufficient condition for fulfilling this object We have seen further that a knowledge of

eternal and infallible laws depends upon a knowledge of the first thing of all from which those laws may be derived. Consequently

the necessary condition of natural knowledge involves a knowledge of the first thing of all a knowledge of eternal, laws and a

knowledge of the methods of exact experiment and the way of relating the results of experiment to eternal laws. Bach of

these necessary conditions of natural knowledge is arrived at by a distinct phase of true method: second the first, by analysis; the

by synthesis; the third, by empirical-synthesis . The

methodology of natural philosophy, as of all true philosophy, requires the conjunction of these three phases, and the conjunction of these phases constitutes the whole of Spinozas idea of method. Thus the correspondence with Boyle not only illustrates Spinoza's -dea of the empirical-synthetic phase of metnod; it ^ TTDIE W L I 31White tr.. pp. 3l 35.

confirms
Lc t.

our h y p c t n e s Is tlu.t i p I n o z u 's c o m p l e t e idea involvin*. ti.ree p a r t s . Boyle corre..pundence us und experiment fact
Come

do;, of m e t h o d Interpreters of

complex

o p 1n o 7 . 0 neglect

take the

Indicative .ndee d

ol iipinoca'c suppose In the latest

of o b s e r v a t i o n

and

that Spinoza

generally neglected

for reuso n. for example,

b o o k on S p i n o z a ' s

t n e o r y of k n o w l e d g e

w e read;

...ilplnoza should have admitted the importance of knowledge of the particular fact as well as of the universul lav. But he did not make this admission. Perhaps this was because he thought that deductive knowledge alone would give certainty; or pernaps he thought that it was the chief business of the moral philosopher to establish universal laws about human behaviour , and thus was led to neglect the fact that empirical information is necessary if those laws are to be applied.168 But Spiijoza quite expressly admits that knowledge of particular facts is a necessary condition of natural knowledge. . s for the

second point. that Spinoza thought deductive knowledge would alone give certainty, this false. in one sense, is true, and in another sense, knowledge of

In the empirical-synthetic phase of method

eternal laws of mechanical philosophy is the element that makes our knowledge of facts certain; but knowledge of deductive truths alone, that is without conjunction with empirical knowledge yields no natural knowledge. Spinoza is a rationalist to the extent that he makes intellectually derived laws decisive for knowledge; but his rationalism includes, and demands, thorough-going knowledge of empirical facts. The certainty of natural knowledge

16Sparking cm, pp. 159160.

come;; f r o m reus on; observation. The Hie

t h e c o n t e n t of n a t u r a l writings are

knowledge

comoo

from

full of r e f e r e n c e s e sometime,

to observutIon.

correspondence of Spinoza's

with Boyle

s p e c i f :c u l l y adduc of

cr e v i d e n c e experiment;

f a i l u r e t o u n d e r s t a n d trie p l a c e

.. . S p i n o z a in his c o r r e s p o n d e n c e w i t h B o y l e , s e e m s u n a b l e t o u n d e r s t a n d trie s t r e s s w h i c h B o y l e laid on experiment Eis v i e w was that since p h y s i c a l N a t u r e f o l l o w s m e c h a n i c a l luws w h i c h can b e k n o w n in advance, a n d s i n c e t h e i m p l i c a t i o n s of these can be deduced mathematically, any e x p e r i m e n t is p r a c t i c a l l y as g o o d us a n y o t h e r . . . .

It Is true to say that experiment played only a second part in the science of Descartes and Spinozu. Convinced that the first principles of their systems were beyond the reach of doubt, nd that further empirical evidence could not ail to confirm these, they thought it hardly necessary to take pains to establish a foregone conelus ion.1^9 We have already seen that Spinoza found fault with Boyle's experiment because that experiment was not sufficiently scientific Moreover we saw that Spinoza thought that such an experiment

If properly carried out "is indeed an excellent experiment for investigating the very nature of Nitre." Further, we Eaw

that Spinoza put limits upon the role of deduction in the acquisition of natural knowledge and expressly required

observation and experiment as a necessary cause in the search Aor such knowledge. What Parkinson says about Descartes and

l69Parkinson, pp. 161-162.

Sp'noz-. may be true of Descurtes . but : t

: not true o l ' bp Ir u g ' ; : .

.lthcugh 'p: r.cz. . thought thut the first 'principle., of his rysten were beyond the reach of doubt, he did not on that account s 1y th t tr.e f..rst principles coxild re : c . n to knowledge of yurt iculur th.nys without obrerv -ton and exper iment on r.r> .nson' s theory i 1 1 lly .

it is very difficult to under^t .nd

Spinoza'., repeated appeals to experience in all of n r works, for, in these arpeals he not only s .ys that experience confirms h s principles but also that experience teaches. its opening clause: The TDIE has , s

"Postguain me exper lent!a docu t .. . ."^70

And Book III of the Ethics gives such evidence of Spinoza's skill as an observer of human nature, that the existence of that Book alone should throw considerable doubt on the assertion that Spinoza neglected or undervalued the role of observation and experiment.

Ift-vertheless, it remains true that ipinoza's attitude toward the role of experiment in the development of natural science is somehow different from the accepted attitudes today. What then

is the precise difference between Spinozas physics and modern physics7 Parkinson comes close to answering this question when

he remarks: ...the subordinate part played by experience is more clearly illustrated by Spinoza's attitude to scientific experiments. She use of experiments, according to him, is not so much to assist in the
170TDIE. VVL, I, 3 .

2 95

discovery of new laws as to deternine according to which laws an event occurs.171 But the use of the word ."law" in this statement is equivocal. "Laws" that are discovered by experimental physics, in the modem sense, are statistical regularities; but the "laws" to which Spinoza appeals in order to interpret experiments are infallible laws" derived by deduction from the idea of the first thing of all. The natural science which jpinoze sought was not a

mathematical physics based upon probability; it was a metaphysical physics grounded in certainty. The object of experimental science

for Spinoza was demonstrative knowledge of essential natures, not statistically probable knowledge of the behavior of natural
bodies. Spinoza q.uite frankly seeks demonstrative physical

science; he rejects a science of probability.

It is in his If ve

rejection that he differs most from modern physicists.

would attack Spinoza's philosophy of science, we should direct our attack toward his hope of a demonstrative physics. To attack

him for a supposed indifference to observation and experiment is to attack him at his least vulnerable point.

ITlparkinson, pp. l60-l6l.

296

III.

The Heritage of Platonism.

A.

Introduction:

Spinoza's Acquaintance with Plato and Platonism.

There is no evidence that Spinoza was directly acquainted with Plato'sDialogues: when Spinoza quotes Plato, it is clear thathe For example, In the Cogltata Metanhysica while

quotes at second hand.

considering the question, "How logical being can be called mere nothing and also real being," Spinoza writes: Thus Plato, when he said that man is a two-footed animal without feathers, was no more in error than those who said that man is a rational animal. For Plato knew as well as others that man is a rational animal; but f e e referred man to this particular class, so that whenever he wanted to think about man he might at once ester upon a meditation by recurring to a class which he was easily able to recollect.1 In saying that Plato classified man as a featherless biped in order to assist his memory, Spinoza does illustrate the point he wants to make, but he does not represent Plato's intention faithfully. Plato's

classification of man as a featherless biped 1s found at Politlcus 266E where the Eleatic Stranger seeks to determine, through his method of division, that class of being which forms the object of kingly rule. Precise identification of the class is needed, not for a meditation about man, but as a step toward discovering the definition of a king. It is unlikely that any experienced reader can forget that the Politlcus is primarily an exhibition of the method of division; the title of the dialogue reminds one that the division in that dialogue was made
^CM, cap. I. W L , IV, I89 . My translation.

297

in relation to the king or statesman.

If Spinoza had read the

dialogue he would have known that Plato did not define man as a featherless biped in order to assist his memory. Spinozu's quotation

ignores the context of the dialogue and supplies a new context which supports his own theory about classification as an aid to thought. Professor McKeon has shown in similar fashion that Spinoza's quotation from St. Thomas in the Short Treatise was also at second
hand.^

Although it is not demonstrable that Spinozu was directly acquainted with Plato's writings, it is clear that he had absorbed Platonic sayings and doctrines from his early training and from his extensive reading, and also, perhaps, from his conversation with philosophically instructed acquaintances. In an inventory that was

made of Spinoza's library at his death no works of Plato appear, although Aristotle's Bhetoric appears along with Epictetus' Enchiridion. 3 There are, however, two copies of Seneca's Epistles. one in Latin and the other in Dutch, and these would have given Spinoza a general understanding of Stoicized Platonism. Seneca's Epistle contains a definition Leone Ebreo's Dlaloghl

and explanation of Plato's theory of ideas.

^Richard McKeon, The Philosophy of Spinoza (New York, 1928), p. hi. "The misconstruction of Aquinas' idea is so gross that it can be explained only by the supposition that Spinoza's knowledge of the doctrine must be second-hand and extremely casual." 3For the inventory of Spinoza's books see A. J. Servaas van Bool Jen, Inventalredes liyres formant la bibliot&que da Benedict de Spinoza (Rie Hague, 1639); also, J. Freudenthal, Die Lebensgeschlchte Spinozas (Leipzig, 1899 ) ; pp. 160-16^. For a discussion of the library and the range of Spinoza's reading, cf. Freudenthal's Spinoza. Leben und Lehre. ed. C. Gebhardt, 2 vols. in one (Heidelberg, 1927), I* 199 -21 ( 3.

296

d 'Amore, which is also listed, ic a storehouse of Platonism, Heo-Platonisn, end Renaissance Platonism mixed with Aristotelianism. Finally, Spinoza's close study of Descartes acquainted him with Augustinian Platonism in metaphysics, theology, and methodology. Before the inventory of Spinoza's library was found in 1887, Spinoza was thought to have read little and thought much, but we know now that Spinoza was an extensive reader: the inventory lists l6l

volumes ranging in subject matter through philosophy, theology, mysticism, philology, mathematics, physics, mechanics, astronomy, medicine, history, and political theory. Latin authors is surprisingly complete. The section on classical No doubt Spinoza read more

books than he owned, and his acquaintance with Platonism may have been even more extensive than his library suggests. At the rabbinical school in his youth, Spinoza studied the Neo-Platonic Aristotelianism of the Jewish mediaeval tradition, especially in the works of Maimonides and Chasdai Crescas. When

he learned Latin from Van den Enden he acquired access to the writings of the scholastics and to the theories of the mystical Platonism of Dionysius Areopagite and Erigenm. Modern philosophers

like Bacon and Herbert of Cherbury, not to mention Descartes, would have deepened his general acquaintance with Platonism. Uxe philosophy of almost any mediaeval philosopher exhibits elements of Platonism and Aristotelianism; in any given philosopher it is a question simply of which element predominates. In the late mediaeval period and early Renaissance, the universities turned to

299

Aristotle with increasing exclusion of Platonism, but Platonic centers could be found throughout Europe. Professor Wolfson in his

genetic study of Spinoza's philosophy has shown that Spinoz;. follows Aristotle on many points.1 4 But Spinoza's Short Treatise and Ethics, which begin with the existence and nature of God, und then descend to the world and to man, to the human mind, its psychology and passions, its ethics, and thence return through intellectual love to God, follow in form the Neo-Platonic egreasus and regressus. and show that Spinoza's acquaintance with Platonism had effect in his philosophy. Yet Spinoza's remark to one of his correspondents that "the authority of Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates has not much weight with me," might mean that Spinoza rejects any affinity with Plato or Platonism.5 When Spinoza goes on to say, "I should have been surprised had you mentioned Epicurus, Democritus, Lucretius or any one of the Atcmists," it would seem that he deliberately aligns himself with Democritus against the Platonlsts.6 However, study

%olfson, I, 19. ".. .Maimcnides and Descartes, and indirectly through them, and quite as often directly through his own works, also Aristotle,.. .can be said to have had a dominant influence upon the philosophic training of Spinoza and to have guided him in the formation of his own philosophy." Wolfson lists what he conceives to be the dominant active influences upon Spinoza's thought. A touch of Platonism could have come to Spinoza from Aristotle; some Neo-Platonism from Maimonides; Descartes would have contributed a large measure of Augustinian Platonism. The influence of these philosophers on Spinoza is "active" in the same sense that heredity and environment are active influences: they set the problems and form the background with which the individual begins his own activity. Wolfson's omission of Seneca is not surprising, since Seneca is more a moralist than a philosopher; he conveys to his readers a point of view more than a philosophy.
5g. 56. VVL; h i , 192. Wolf, p. 290.

6ibid.

300

of the entire correspondence in which the remark occurs, the correspondence between Spinoza and Boxel, initiated by Boxel's request for Spinoza's opinion on the existence of spirits, so popular with sane of the Renaissance Flatonists, shows that Spinoza was goaded into rejecting Plato's authority by Boxel's repeated insistence that his own belief in the existence of spirits was supported by the authority of all true philosophers, ancient and modern. to Spinoza Boxel writes: In Epistle 55

It is not those who defend the existence of spirits who discredit Philosophers, but those who deny their existence, since all Philosophers, ancient as well as modern, think themselves convinced of the existence of spirits. Plutarch bears witness to this in his Treatises on the opinions of Philosophers, and on the daemon of Socrates; also all the Stoics, Pythagoreans, Platonists, Peripatetics, Empedocles, Maximus Tyrius, Apuleius andothers bear vitness to it. Of modern philosophers none denies spectres. Reject then so many wise witnesses, who have themselves seen or have heard _/spectres7, so many Philosophers, so many Historians who relate such stories; assert that they are all foolish like the multitude, and mad. Your answers cannot persuade one but are even absurd, they do not anywhere touch the main point of our controversy, and you put forward no proof to confirm your opinion.7 Spinoza's rejection of the authority of Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates (he omitted the Stoics whom Boxel had also cited) was clearly inspired by the polemics of the correspondence. As a matter

of fact, Spinoza never accepted the authority of any man on philosophical questions, and always claimed to Judge a question in the light of reason. Although Spinoza was led to say that he

injected the authority of Plato, in his second reply to Boxel he

7Ej. 55-

W L , III, 188.

Wolf, pp. 285-286 .

301

adopted a typical Socrutic defense vhen he urged".

".bet ue, however,

One

dismiss the authors and attack the question itself."^ recollects hocrates1 request in the Protagoras:

"Putting the

poets aside, let us hold our discussion together in our own persons, making trial of the truth and of ourselves."9 The empionsis

of Spinoza's remarks is more upon the rejection of authority than upon the rejection of Plato (Non nultura a pud me Author itas Platonis. etc.). Spinoza, of course, shared the general distaste of

seventeenth century philosophers for authority in philosophy. A. Wolf observes in this respect:

It was characteristic of the age of revolt to hold "authority" in low esteem, even at the cost of insufficient appreciation of great thinkers whom the Schoolmen had unfortunately exploited as "authorities" and obstructions to independent thought in a manner that those "authorities" would have been the first to denounce.10 It is more to the point, however, to recollect that the choice between external authority and the internal guidance of reason was of deep personal concern to Spinoza, for as a young man he had been compelled to choose between the authority of the synagogue

% E . 5k.

W L , III, 181.

Wolf, p. 277.

^Protagoras. 3kdA.

(Loeb ed., p. 213 ).

lOWolf, p. 1*53 Wolf, by the way, always attributes slavishness to the Schoolmen, overlooking how often they quoted authorities only to disagree with them. Not all Schoolmen were like Boxel. For the Scholastic masters, an authority was a person whose opinion deserved careful consideration and whose Investigations in a given subject could be overlooked only to the disadvantage of the investigation. If this is slavlshne6s, every independent Investigator will have to rebuild science from its foundations. Wolf depends a little too much on the authority of Descartes, who popularized the slavlshness of the Schoolmen.

302

with its offer of continued acceptability within the community or his conviction of truth and the certainty of excommunication.-1 ^ We may conclude in general that Spinoza was indirectly acquainted with the writings of Plato and directly acquainted with various forms of Platonism through hie early training in medieval theology at the rabbinical school, and through his own later studies and extensive reading. His statement to Boxel that

the "authority of Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates has not much weight with me," if it had been meant to be taken literally, would have been evidence that he had at least a sufficient acquaintance with Plato to reject his authority in philosophy. Examination of the context in which the statement was made suggests strongly, however, that the remark was not intendedliterally, that it was inspired by Boxel's polemics, and that it expresses rather Spinoza's general rejection of authority in philosophy. It is, of course, one thing to say that Spinoza was indirectly acquainted with Platonism and quite another to say that he was in some sense a Plat onist . Spinoza did not regard himself as a member of any philosophical school, but as the discoverer of "the true philosophy." We wish to maintain only that he was

acquainted with Plato and Platonism and that this acquaintance bore fruit in his own philosophy.

l^Cf. A. Volf, The Oldest Biography of Spinoza (New Tork, 1927 ), pp. Mt-51.

303

B.

Platonic Elements in Spinoza's Theory of Method

Perhaps nothing is more characteristic of Platonic methodologies than the emphasis placed upon ideas; an emphasis which is directed upon intuition of true ideas as decisive for knowledge, upon the nature of true ideas, and upon the method of arriving at true ideas. Although intuition plays an important part in Platonism,

unqualified intuition is not necessarily a distinguishing mark of Platonism. Aristotle, for example, insists that intuition of

first principles is a necessary condition of demonstrative knowledge, because, as he and the Scholastics who followed him insist, unless something can be known without demonstration, knowledge will be Impossible. But the intuitions which the

Aristotelians take as the starting points of their philosophies are "self-evident" Judgments, whereas the Platonists begin with Intuited ideas. Although the Platonists admit, with the

Aristotelians, that Judgment is the form par excellence of knowledge, they generally insist that Judgments presuppose ideas, which precede and imply them; consequently they regard the intuition of ideas as the primary problem of philosophizing. According to Plato ideas are the essential forms of things, and to know truly is to see with the mind existing, eternal and objective essences. In intuition, says Socrates, the pilot of

the soul sees "the very being vith which true knowledge is

30i*

concerned; the colourless, formless, intangible essence, visible only to the According to Plato, once the philosopher

has intuited an objective essence und formed the idea of what it essentially is, then he can apply that idea to everything which is an instance of it. The application of an idea to its

instance is judgment, and true judgment logically follows the intuition of the idea. faces The principal difficulty the philosopher

in hie effort to intuit ideas is that his ordinary instruments

of knowledge -- sense perception, language, imagination and memory offer him only the qualities or properties of a thing, whereas he seeks its essence. The problem of knowledge, as Plato conceived

it, is to arrive at a knowledge of essences through tools which supply only properties or qualities. Plato's solution to this

problem lay in the vigorous use of dialectic: ...it is by means of the examination of each of these objects, comparing one with another names and definitions, visions and sense-perceptions proving them by kindly proofs and employing questionings and answerings that are void of envy it is by such means, and hardly so, that there bursts out the light of intelligence and reason regarding each object in the mind of him who uses every effort of which mankind is capable.^3
<

Thus, for Plato all the long labor of inquiry

question and answer

comparison of names, definitions, and images in the soul's dialectical discourse with itself -- is but a preparation for that intuition of eternal essences which constitutes knowledge.

12phaedrus. 2l*7c, Jowett tr.

13Ej2. VII, 3 ^ .

Loeb tr., pp. 539-5^1.

305

Later Platonicts follov the general outline of this classic volution. Clement of Alexandria, as ve saw (supra, pp. 68-70), takes

Plato's dialectic as the characteristic philosophic activity, and couples the practice of dialectic vith the action of the Saviour "who withdnvs, by the divine word, the gloom of ignorance

arising from evil training, which had overspread the eye of the soul.... It is He who truly shows how we are to know ourselves."1^ Like Plato

Augustine too seeks intuitive knowledge of essences.

he regards the senses and language as imperfect instruments of knowledge: the umost value of words, he says, is to "bid us

look for things, but they do not show them to us so that we may know them."15 illumination: The mind has, as it were, eyes of its own, analogous to the soul's seses. The certain truths of the sciences are analogous to the objects which the sun's rays make visible, such as the earth and earthly things. And it is God himself who Illumines all. I, Reason, am in minds as the power of looking is in eyes. Having eyes, is not the same thing as looking, and looking is not the same as seeing. The soul therefore needs three things: eyes vhich it can use aright, looking and seeing.16 The "seeing* 1 that Augustine mentions is entirely dependent upon the active illumination of the divine word, so that, consequently, But Augustine emphasizes the necessity of a divine

l^Stron.. I, xxviii.

Wilson tr., p. b68.

l^De Hagistro. XI, 36 . Augustine: Earlier Writings. p. 9^. l6 soliloqula. I, vl, 12. Augustine: Earlier Writings. p. 30 .

306

"to each is given only so much as he is eble to receive, according to his own good or evil will.r , 17 to the Platonic approach: Augustine adds two conditions

the neasssity of divine illumination,

and the doctrine that moral condition has a direct bearing upon capacity for intuiting the truth. Nicolas of Cusa translated the Platonic approach into a kind of analogical mathematicism. He conceived the problem of knowledge

as the problem of finding a proportion between incommensurables. In Nicolas' doctrine of learned ignorance, however, we find several significant differences from Platonic beliefs. Under

the influence of Denis the Areopagite, Nicolas identifies the Intelligible world with God, and, in consequence, is led to reject the theory of ideas or exemplars. He remarks that "apart

from the Absolute image or the Exemplar itself in unity of nature, no image will so faithfully or precisely reproduce the exemplar, as to rule out the possibility of an infinity of more faithful and precise
i m a g e s . "18

in this doctrine Nicolas posits

probabillsm as the utmost range of human knowledge, and asserts that the best the human mind can accomplish is an ever closer approach to the idea of the Absolute image or single Exemplar of nature. The probabillsm of Nicolas was followed in the Renaissance by a widespread scepticism which Descartes attempted to arrest.

l7De Magistro. XI, 38 . Augustine: IflQf Learned Ignorance. I, 11.

Earlier Writings. p. 95 .

Heron tr., p. 25 .

307

According to Descartes:, "Science in its entirety is true and evident cognition."19 The philosopher in search of true cognition sense, inagination,

has at his disposal four cognitive faculties memory and understanding.

.ltiiough sense, imagination and memory

are useful tools in the search forknowledge, the actual perception of truth is work for the understanding alone. In

the search for truth only two certain routes -lie open to the understanding: intuition and deduction. Intuition is "the

undoubting conception of an unclouded and attentive mind, and springs from the light df reason alone."20 The immediate object*

of intuition are the "facts which *e have called the simplest in any single series."21 The ultimate objects of intuition are

those "few pure and simple essences /natures7, which either our experience or seme sort of light innate in us enable us to behold as primary and existing per se. not as depending on any others___ All the others can only be perceived as deductions from these,..."22 Deduction is discursive reasoning, and consists in "necessary inference from other facts that are known with
c e r t a i n t y . "^3

^%ule II, Direction of the Mind Haldane & Boss tr., I, 3 . 2QRuie III, Direction of the Mind. Haldane 8 s Boss tr., I, 3* 2lEule VI, Direction of the Mind. Haldane & Boss tr., I, 16.
22 ibid.

23Eule TTI> Direction of the Kind. Haldane & Boss tr., I, 8 .

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Intuition and deduction alone account for true knowledge: first principles themselves are
on given b y intuition a l o n e ,

"the while,
by

the

contrary,

the remote

conclusions ,rqinark,

are furnished only

principles, of a

deduction."^1 *

And, ve might
ultimately It

first

for

Descartes, depend

upon theintuit ion

this emphasis

"few pure

and simple essences."

is

upon the intuition of

simple essences that separates Descartes from the Aristotelian intuitionists and places him among the Platonists. The way in which the understanding arrives at a distinct perception of primary notions Descartes calls analysis; the manner in which it deduces consequences from these notions he calls synthesis. Acarding to

Descartes analysis must precede synthesis, and even though it can he followed by synthesis, still itself "is the best and truest mode of teaching." Analysis must precede synthesis, especially

in metaphysics, since synthesis depends upon the clear and distinct perception of its primary notions, and these primary notions can only be. made clear and distinct through analysis. Analysis remains

preferable to synthesis as a teaching device because the reader in following the analysis, that is, in following "the true way by which a thing was discovered and derived,...understands the matter no less perfectly and makes it as much his own as if he had himself discovered it. ^5 Synthesis, on the other hand, "does not equally

content the eager learner, because it does not show the way in

2 frlbld.

^^Reply to Ob .lections

II.

Haldane & Boss tr.,

II,

^8 .

309

which the matter was discovered.' 26

is

Descartes, like most Plutonists,

of a

more interested in the actual discovery and perception

truth

than in its careful demonstration. Platonists then agree generally tliat the intuition of true ideas is logically prior to the Judgments embracing those ideas; that a true idea is somehow the apprehension of
a

thing in its essential

characteristics; that the instruments with which the mind must work are imperfect; that nevertheless a vigorous dialectical or analytical use of imperfect intellectual instrumafcs puts the mind in a position from which by an intuitive glimpse it grasps an object essentially. The Platonists we have studied all agree that

sense-experiences are suggestive of knowledge when they are framed in language, witlT In definitions or in images, and resolutely capared, contrasted, questioned, proved or tested in every way that human ingenuity can contrive. These Platonists are not

empiricists, since they agree that sense experience cannot decide the truth of anything. Nearly all of them agree that true ideas

are objective essences, which Plato locates apart from men and gods in the unchanging outer sphere of the heaven of heavens. Scriptural Platonists locate the ideas in the mind of God or in the Word or Wisdom of God. To explain the sudden intuitive

glimpse of these essences which the mind enjoys, Plato calls upon a theory of reminiscence; Philo upon a divine Logos; Clement, Augustine and Nicolas upon the active influence of Christ the

26ibid.. p. 1 * 9 .

310

inward Teacher; Descartes upon the natural light of reason. Platonists insist that human mind, under some conditions or circumstances, is capable of true knowledge, but they limit the range of the human intellect and do not claim for it true

The

knowledge of the totality of things. There is in Platonism a leaven effective against both scepticism and dogmatism, which accounts in part for the popularity of Platonism in times of philosophical crises when philosophers are tempted either to despair in scepticism or to cut short inquiry in the pretense that their dogmas have sufficiently exhausted the possibilities of significant knowledge. It is then characteristic of Platonism to attempt to educe true ideas by seme form of dialectical or analytical process in order to put the mind in a position to make some true judgements. The analysis which Spinoza outlined in the TDIE parallels in every particular the method of Platonic idadLogy. He supposes that ideas are prior to judgment and seeks to distinguish true ideas from all other kinds of perception. He claims that a true idea

is the apprehension of the essential qualities of a thing. Although he rejects the use of images, and to this extent departs from Plato, he finds that language, despite its imperfect ins, can be used to form definitions whose testing and proving gives rise to true knowledge. He argues that sense experience cannot

decide truth because truth involves ideas produced by the pure

311

intellect. He follown the Scriptural Platonists in regarding true ideas as objective essences in the mind of God, although he adds that, to the extent tiiat the human mind is part of the divine intellect, some are objective essences in the human mind as well. Like the Platonists he admits that the range of human

intellect is limited and yet insists thatvithin that range the philosopher can find true knowledge. He thus avoids both dogmatism

and scepticism and outlines a mode of analysis essentially Platonic. Yet the blend is peculiarly his own, for he not only replaces Plato's theory of reminiscence and Augustine's theory of divine illumination with the assertion that the human intellect is part of the divine intellect and with a methodical use of that assertion, but, like Nicolas of Cusa, he immediately seeks the idea of the first thing of all as the foundation -of all other ideas and as the exemplar of the universe; yet the manner in which he seeks this exemplar is Cartesian. He seeks to educe the idea of the first thing of all through a careful scrutiny of the powers and instruments of the mind. Descartes had advised: If a man proposes to himself the problem of examining all the truths far the knowledge ofwhich human reason suffices and I think that this is a task which should be undertaken once at least in his life by every person who seriously endeavors to attain equilibrium of thought he will, by the rules given above, certainly discover that nothing can be known prior to the understanding, since the knowledge of all things else depends upon this and not conversely.^7

^ R u l e VIII, Direction of the Mind.

Haldane & Boss tr., I, 2^-25.

312

Dince Spinoza agrees tlat ."nothing can be known prior to the understanding," he directs his attention upon the understanding in order to discover its foundation, and he finds that the mind is part of an absolute thinking being, so tiiat the mind essentially participates in the first thing of all. In this

theory, Spinoaa links Nicolas' exemplar with Descartes' analysis of human understanding. Descartes had also pointed put that the understanding can be used in four different ways in order to gather experience: Matter of experience consists of what we perceive by sense, what we hear from the lips of others, and generally whatever reaches our understanding either from external sources or from that contemplation which our mind directs backwards on itself.28 Spinoza develops the same thought at more length. As we have seen, hearsay,

he directs attention to the four modes of perceiving:

vague experience, rational inference and intuitive science. Spinozas development reveals many similarities with Plato's ladder of knowledge. three kinds: In the Ethics he divides cognition into

first, opinion or imagination, which consists of

perceptions acquired through vague experience or from hearsay; second, reason, or knowledge based upon common notions and adequate ideas of the properties of things; third, intuitive science, which involves an adequate idea of the formal essence of certain attributes of God, and moves to the adequate knowledge

2&Rule XII, Direction of the Mind. Haldane & Ross tr., I,

313

of the essence of things.

In the TDIE Spinoza makes the

Banc

distinctions but with four classifications instead of three, for he makes a distinct classification for each kind of "opinion" or "imagination." Of these modes of perception Spinoza chooses

intuitive science as the best, not only because it is .most direct and immediate, but also because it can give essential knowledge of particular things while knowledge based on common notions "can form the essence of no particular thing." The fourfold classification in

the TDIS lends itself to direct comparison with Plato's classification in the "divided line" in the Republic. Plato's division of the line of cognition into opinion and knowledge is paralleled by Spinoza's distinction between the first two modes, which do not give knowledge, and the third and fourth modes, which do. Plato's division of opinion into conjecture,

with its images of sensible things, and belief with its acquaintance with sensible things, rougly parallels Spinoza's distinction between cognition by hearsay and cognition by vague experience. Plato's division of knowledge and understanding, with its hypotheses, and reason, with its pure forms, is paralleled by Spinoza's rational inference with its common notions, and intuitive science with its direct perception of particular affirmative essences. Although Spinoza does not accept Plato's theory of forms, adopting at this point a position identical to that of Nicolas of Cusa, there is a real parallel between the Platonic perception of forms by reason and the Spinozistic perception of particular affirmative

i l l ;

oc~e:.cen by IntelV ct, especially since in each case -the cognition Involves o r ; essential knowledge cf particular objects. . . ithough ciater !ul r e c e n b i a n c e e are apparent between the tv:/

clasi f icutions, the formal differences are rather

mere

significant.

^ince Plato makes the various kinds of cognition depend upon the qualities of the object attended to, he suggest that the mind is more pensive in cognition than active.

This suggestion is enforced

when Plato describes the four kinds of knowledge as "the four affections in the soul" ( , ^di-l^TA it

fA"^ ~~

zha

Spinoza, on the contrary, emphasizes the active power of thought

in each of the four modes.

In Ethics II Spinoza states explicitly

that the mind is active rather than passive' in respect of its object. Even in the first kind of cognition, hearsay, in which the mind might seem to be entirely passive, Spinoza insists upon some activity of thought, for, as he says, "...simple hearsay cannot affect anyone whose understanding does not, so to speak, meet it half way."3 Thus, Platos classification is properly a classification

of kinds of knowledge, whereas Spinoza's is a classification of modes of perceiving. Further, since knowledge for Plato is determined by the quality of its object, on the Platonic division there can be true knowledge only of perfect objects, and as an immediate consequence there can be only a prob&ble knowledge of physical objects in the world, that is, a probable and never certain material science.

, Book II, Def. Ill, and its Explanation. 30TDIZ. W L , I, 9 . White tr., p. 10.

But in Spinoza's scheme, since knowledge is determined by ihe mode in which a thing is known, there can be true knowledge of all objects that have an escential nature. Since Spinoza attributes

essential natures even to particular mutable objects in the sensible world, a fortiori he lays down the possibility of a natural science that can be -- in part, at least -- certain.

Although Plato's "divided line," as first discussed in the Republic, is a static classification of the kinds or degrees of knowledge, it is used later as an illustration of the dynamic, dialectical process which lends the mind to the highest possible knowledge, contemplation of the idea of the good. Plato's

explicit teachings on dialectic are primarily directed to the upward or ascending march of thought, and only occasionally does he refer to a descending dialectic. Thus, Plato appears to devote

most of his time in an effort to rise to the idea of the Good. Spinoza's process of thought in the Sthics. on the contrary, begins with the idea of God, and the burden qf reasoning in much of the Ethics is the descent from the idea of God to an explicit know ledge of temporal things. Since Spinoza begins the Ethics

with God, it mi^it seem that there is nothing in his methodology that corresponds to Plato's ascending dialectic. lhat this difficulty is only apparent becomes clear so soon as one recollects that in Spinoza's philosophy the idea of God is both the beginning and the end of knowledge, and that Just as the end must be sought by careful and prolonged thought, so the

316

beginning must be discovered by a careful analysis.

That God is

the end of knowledge is explicit Spinozistic doctrine, for he insists that all sciences have the some end: "knowledge of the

union existing between the mind and the whole of Nature," where the whole of Nature means God. Consequently, any increase in

scientific knowledge automatically increases our knowledge of God, since "...we cannot understand anything of Nature without at the same time increasing our knowledge of the first cause, or God. "31

But, as we have seen, Spinoza also insists that knowledge must begin from God, the exemplar of Nature, so that we may possess objectively the essence, order, and union of Nature. Inorder to begin with God, the idea of God must be discovered; Spinozamakes the discovery by an analysis of the understanding which leads him to the idea of God as the sine qua non of all For Spinoza then the idea of God has two aspects: the

thought.

idea of God which is the result of all the sciences is a complex idea which sums up or stands for Nature known in its complexity; the idea of God which is the beginning of knowledge is indeterminate except in its being known as the foundation of knowledge. Thus,

where Plato had made the idea of the good the end of knowledge, Spinoza makes God both beginning and end. lo we have seen, the essay on method begins with the assertion that the knowledge of the union which the mind has with the whole ofnature is the sole end of all philosophical inquiry.
3lTDrg. W L , I, 28, fn. 2. White tr., p. 31, fn.

The method

317

that is described is snid to be perfect wben the mind nus acquired . . . e . idea of the first being of all, sjnce then the mind will possess the exemplar of nature. This aspect of Gpinos:. 'a thought

is Cusean, but Spinoza rejects Cusa's probubilisn, holding instead that among the perceptions of the mind there are many true ideas, ideas in which things are known in their essential natures. In this Spinoza follows the general trend of Flatonic thought. He is convinced that the ideas acquired through the

operation of sense and imagination are at best ideas of the properties of things, not of their essences, l i e does not, like

Descartes, insist that ideas of sense are inherently unreliable; he takes them simply as real but inadequate representations of external entities brought into being by the interaction of external bodies upon the human body. to the mind alone. According to Spinoza a true idea is guarantee of its own truth, a concept held by Platonists generally* Plato does not True ideas are perceptible

attempt to show how f o e eternal essences which the mind or soul has perceived in a previous existence are known to be true: the

soul "having seen all things that exist, whether in this world or in the world below, has knowledge of them all.32 Spinoza, of

course, differs from Platonists drastically when he asserts that a true idea corresponds to its ideatum. for Spinoza believes that

32Meno, 8lc.

Jowett tr.

there is an exact correspondence between things and true ideas of things, whereas Platonists generally regard things in physical neture as at best images of the perfection of the absolute essences, apinoza breaks with the Scriptural Flatonists wherever a theory of divine grace might be postulated, and turns moro toward Hellenistic Platonism; but he rejects the doctrine of reminiscence as veil. Plato, of course, had taught that part of the human

intellect was divine, and, because it shared a likeness with the divine, could attain, in part to divine knowledge.

Spinoza

emphasizes this doctrine and revises it in such a way that the

question of the soul's pre-existence is not brought up; for Spinoza apparently a soul comes into existence with the body, even though, in the later pages of the Ethics we seem to be told that it exists eternally after the body has died. It begins to be clear that Spinoza did not follow any particular system, Platonic or Aristotelian, in the development of his own methodology. He disagrees with the Scriptural Platonists at every

point where the autonomy of human reason or the natural operation of human intellect is brought into quest ion. And in these

disagreements he tends toward positions that were taken up by Hellenistic Platonists. Yet he is willing to follow the Scriptural

Platonists in points that do not impugn the autonomy of reason. He sides with the Aristotelians in his assertion that ideas do correspond wilh their correlates; but he differs from the Aristotelians

:W -r

319

in denying the existence of substantial forms, for on this question he seems closer to the nominalists than to realists or idei.lists, h'evertheless, in his actual method, he is closer to the Platonists than to any other group, for his methodology operates primarily by reflection upon ideas in order to discover the essential characteristics of objective realities. The enormous importance

he attaches to discovering the true idea of the first thing of all

t

is evidence of his kinship with Platonism in general, although as ve have seen, in his actual search for that idea he is most indebted to Descartesanalysis. In the whole of Spinoza's methodology, the

analytic phase reveals the closest affinity to Platonism.

The synthetic phase, as we have seen, seeks to derive fixed and eternal laws from the idea of the first thing of all. Fixed

and eternal laws are implicit in that idea and may be brought to explicit consciousness by reflection upon that idea, much as the properties of a triangle sure implicit in the definition of a triangle and may be derived from the idea of triangle to form the science of trigonometry. Spinoza assumes that the actual

process of deduction from the idea is identical with the process followed by mathematicians in developing their sciences. In

mathematics, of course, the definitions with which deduction begins do not establish the existence outside of the mind of the thhgs defined; Spinoza argues, however, that his idea of the first thing of all both contains and establishes the existence of its referent. Consequently, deductions frcm this idea, properly made

320

have existential import. The immediate properties of the idea of the first thins * * in the universe. are the actual laws eternally operative

Spinoza's method thus offers to be fundamental

to the natural sciences; conversely, Spinoza insists that the natural sciences presuppose a knowledge of these eternal laws. Apart from the idea of the exemplar of Nature as the starting point of a metaphysical system, the method is as much Cartesian as it is Platonic. Its spirit is perhaps closest to that of Nicola* of Cusa expressly regards God as

Renaissance Platonism.

the infinite exemplar of Nature, the single, sufficient explanation of the entire universe. He insits that^ "we must set

out from the absolute unity which is fkpd, that our starting point may be the principle of all things."33 is patterned after Euclid. His form of exposition

As we remarked above (p. 109) in

Nicolas* Of Learned Ignorance fir& the conclusion of an article is set apart from the body of the proof as a proposition stated in general terms. Then the relevant data are Eet out and limiting Very often a figure is constructed.

conditions made precise.

Finally, the proof is worked out, leading to the desired conclusion, and the article is closed with the assertion, "This is what had to be proved."
Spinozas mathematical method of deduction differs from Descartes* in two important ways: Descartes made certitude of self

the starting point of his system, while Spinoza begun from God; and Descartes preferred analytical mathematical method to synthetic,

330f Learned Ignorance. Ill, 1.

Heron tr., p. 130.

while Ipinczu, influenced no doubt by the c a p s he discovered in Dec Cortes' reasoning, 'preferred synthetic Euclidean demonstration,
r urtner . i pinozn applies Descartes ' notion of imediatu Inference

not primarily to phys:cn, as Descurtoc 'did, but to metaphysics,, psychology, and ethics. The result is that in Spinoza Descartes'

notion of immediate inference appears to be a hind of intuitive perception of essential qualities in particular things. Spinoza is characteristically Platonic i n . that he enphasizes particular essences, yet lie modified Plato and Platonism by

insisting that particular essences are thoroughly real, not shadows of ideas in a heaven of heavens; although real, they are finite and subject to increase and decay. To have a knowledge of things

which change is possible, says Spinoza contrary to Plato, if changing entities are seen in the light of the infinite and eternal lavs that govern their change. Eeality is both finite

and infinite; since the finite has a place in the infinite, the finite can be understood. Thus Spinoza refuses to say that only Instead, he insists that is, truly substance

the objective and eternal essences are real. that only the first thing of all is real

and consequently only its thought is complete and true knowledge. The function of the phase of method we have called empiricalsynthesis is to lead the mind to demonstrative knowledge about the nature of natural objects. The method is Platonic in one respect

only, in the insistence that the natural sciences, to the extent that they are sciences, must arrive at demonstrative knowledge. '

322

Although Aristotle and Pluto both held that scientific knowledge is demonstratively stable, and that probability is only u kind of verisimilitude, Aristotle was quite willing to prosecute researches which he thought could lead only to probable knowledge. Plato, of

course, thought that a true science of nature was impossible, and Jestingly refers to physics as the metaphysician's relaxation; yet he did much to lay the groundwork of mathematical physics. The

Aristotelian scholastics were content with probable knowledge of nature, and St. Thomas complained of those who deraarded mathematical certitude in fields where it cannot be attained. Descartes, however,

returned to the notion that the term "science" must be reserved for demonstrative or fully certain knowledge, and in his Buies for the Direction of the Mind he insisted that whatever cannot be known with absolute certainty should be Ignored. But then Descartes thought

that he had found metaphysical justification for reducing nature to simple entities which could be handled mathematically. Moreover,

Descartes tended to underemphasize the place of sense perception and observation in physics, and to regard experiment simply as a way of confirming rationally derived hypotheses. Spinoza, while retaining

Descartes' notion of science, had greater respect far observation * and experiment than did his predecessor. Moreover, he had the idea that the object of physical science was to discern the essence or nature of particular existing objects. He was not interested simply

in the construction of a system of physics; he wanted essential knowledge about things in nature. He did not believe that senses

could lead to true understanding, but he did believe that the senses could be used in exact experiment to determine a particular body sufficiently for the experimenter to attempt to relate tho particular thing to the eternal laws which governed its essential being. The idea of God lies in the background of Spinoza's empiricalsynthesis in several ways. All the sciences, Spinoza says in

the beginning of the TDIE, have as their ultimate aim knowledge of the union vhich the mind has with the whole of nature. A probable

science of natural objects could only add probabilities to our knowledge of this union; a demonstrative knowledge of natural bodies would add real knowledge of this union. To seek anything less than

real helps to this ultimate understanding would defeat Spinoza's ultimate purpose. Moreover, from the idea of God the mind can derive a Increase in experimentation in

knowledge of some eternal laws.

the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, as well as increase in the manufacture of instruments which could assist In making experiments more and more exact, suggested the possibility of finding a proportion or relation between entities which Nicolas had described two centuries earlier as "incommensurables. Spinoza's metaphysical theory of the necessary operation of the entire universe gave him confidence that the laws governing these operations could be discerned in the finite existences of external nature. It is little wonder that Spinoza hoped for

a demonstrative science of natural objects.

32^

Kmpirlcal-eynthesit;, as u part of . pinozu's method, offero a way of converting trie personal knowledge of daily experience into u form usable by natural science. of daily exi3erier.ce H e r The value of the i-nowledge

in the authority of its immediacy, but

its weaknesses are its U n i t e d range and imprecise character.

Through a knowledge of the operation cf the human senses and through exact techniques of experiment, together with the precision-instruments vhich extend the powers of the senses, features of daily experience can be determined with exquisite precision and then related to those universal laws which govern their particular existence. Once this relation is made the mind

will be possessed of reliable and sometimes of certain understanding of particular phenomena. The result is an understanding of parts

of nature that can satisfy the metaphysical mind. Spinoza's complete idea of method then is u complex whole, reflective in character, and distinguishable into three inter-dependent phases which together suffice to guide the mind Ho some real under standing of God, the eternal forms of the universe, and particular objects. It is friendly to the techniques of objective science,

demanding in its criteria of knowledge, and hopeful of results truly beneficial to human nature. It does not ignore the vague

experience of unreflective life but makes full use of the common experience of mankind; it is not arbitrarily deductive but professes to base itself upon perceptible foundations of human nature. The

325

method es a whole is Platonic in its ideology and realistic in intention, unique as a whole, but in its part3 displaying some indebtedness to Spinoza's predecessors., The analytic phase

combines C.rtesian analysis with a Platonic, and especially Renaissance Platonic, search for a primary essence. The synthetic

phase extends seventeenth century raathematicism as a guide in the search for metaphysical principles of thought and is indebted both to Descartes End to the seventeenth century geometricians generally. The empirical-synthetic phase deliberately contests

Aristotles's assertion that there can be no scientific knowledge of particular mutable things and adapts Plato's apprehension of eternal essences to the apprehension of the essences of particular mutable things. The method offers a hope of building a

metaphysically certain natural science, a hope which is perhaps unique in the history of serious thought.

326

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS TO SPINOZA TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS TEXT 7VL Benedlctus de Spinoza, Opera guotguot reperta punt, recognoverunt J. Van Vloten et J. P. N. Land, 3^ ed., ^ vols. in 2 (The Hague: Martin NIJhoff, 191^). Prlncipla Philoaophiae Cartesianae Cogitata Metaphysica Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatlone

PPC CM TDIE TTP E TP Sp.

Tractatus Theologico-Politlcus Ethics Tractatus Politicus Splstolae

TRANSLATIONS Elves Selections from the TTP and TP are given in the Elves translation, cited from The Chief Works of Benedict de Spinoza. Translated from the Latin, With an Introduction. 2 vols. inone (Nev York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1951). Selections from the TDIE and E are given in the White translation, cited from Ethics Preceded by On the Improvement of the Understanding by Benedict de Spinoza, ed. . James Gutmann (Nev York: Hafner Publishing Company, 19*9). Selections from the Eg. are given in the Wolf translation, cited from A. Wolf, The Correspo3*m^p of Spinoza (Nev York: Lincoln MacVeagh, The Dial Press, 1927 ). Selections from the PPC and CM are given in my translation.

White

Wolf

NOTE:

Elves and White both translate Spinoza's farmaliter by "objectively"; I consistently substitute "formally'1 for their "objectively." They also translate Spinozas objective by "subjectively"; I have consistently substituted objectively" for their "subjectively." Othervise the quotations are exact.

327

LIST OF WORKS, EDITIONS, AND TRANSLATIONS MENTICITZD

Anselm, St.

3. Anselml Cantuariens is Archieplscopi Opera

ed. F. S. Schmitt"! A Sons, I 9I 46).

vols

(Edinburgh:

Vania. Thozias Nelson

-nseln: Proslogiura; Monolor.lua; An Appendix in Behalf of the Fool by Gaunilon; and Cur Deug Homo, tr. Sidney Horton Deane(Chicago: Open Court Publishing Co., 1939)Augustine, St. Opera Omnia, post Lavoniensum Theologorun Lecensionem, in J. P. Migne, Pvtrologia Latina, vols. 32-^7* Augustine: Earlier Writings. tr. A ed. John H. 3. Burleigh, Vol. VI in The Library of Christian Classics. ed. John Baillie, John T. McNeill and Henry P. Van Dusen (London: SCM Press, 1953)' The City of'God, tr. John Healy, 2 vols. (London: J. M. Dent

& Sons, 19^5); in Everyman*s Library.

Writings of St. Augustine, tr. Ludwig Schopp, Denis J. Kavanagh, Robert P. Russell, Thomas F. Gilligan. Vol. I in The Fathers of the Church: A Hew Translation, ed. Ludwig Schopp (New York: Cima Publishing Co., 19*8). Bidney, David. "Joachim on Spinoza's Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatlone." Philosophical Review. LI (January, 19^2), pp. 117-^5. The Psychology and Ethics of Spinoza: A Study in the History and Logic of Ideas (New Haven: Yale University Press, I9S0 ). Boethius. Opera Omnia, in J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina. Vols. 62-63 .

Burtt, Edwin Arthur. The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science, rev. ed. (New York: Doubleday Anchor Books, 195*0"! Bacon, Francis. Novum Organum in The Philosophical Works of Francis Bacon, ed. James Spedding, Robert Leslie Ellis, and John M. Robertson (London: George Routledge L Sons, 1905) . Cassirer, Ernst; Paul Oscar Kristeller; and John Herman Randall, Jr., edd., The Renaissance Philosophy of Man (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 19**8). Clement, Titus Flavius. The Writings of Clement of Alexandria, tr., William Wilson. Vols. IV S c XII in the Ante-Nicene Christian Library. ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson (Edinburgh: T. 8 ; T. Clark, 1881*).

Darbon, Andre". Etudes Splnozlstes (Paris: de France, 19^^ )

Presses Universitaircs

Descartes, Rene. Oeuvres de Descartes, ed. Adam et Tannery (Paris: Leopold Cert, 1597"1910). Discours de la Methode, ed. Etienne Gilson (Paris: J. Vrin,

19^7)
Philosophical Works of Descartes. tr. E. S. Haldane & G. R. T. Ross, 2 vols, (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1955). Descartes Selections . ed Ralph M. Eaton (New York: Charles

Scr ibner's Sons, 1927)

The Meditations and Selections from the Principles of Rene' Descartes. tr. John Veitch (LaSalle, 111.: Open Court Publishing Co., 191 *!). Diels, Hermann.

Die Fragments Per Vor sokrat iker , 7bh ed., ed. Wulther Kranz, 3 vols. (Berlin: Weidmannsche Verlagsbuchhandlung,

195*0.
Leone Ebreo. ^Judah Abrabanel/, The Philosophy of Love (Dialoghi d'Amore), tr., F. Friedeberg-Seeley and Jean H. Barnes, introd. Cecil Both. (London: Soncino Press, 1937)Per Tractat de Intellectus Emendatione und seine SteHung In der Philosophic Spinozas (Breslau, 1898 ).

Elbogen, I.

Erigena, John Scotus. Opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. Henry Joseph Floss, in J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina. Vol. 122. Ficino, Marsilio. Opera amnia. 2 vols. (Basel, I . 56I; 2d ed., 1576 ).

Marsilio Ficinos Commentary on Plato s Symposium, ed. & tr., Sears Beynolds Jayne (Columbia, Mo.: University of Missouri Press, 19M0, in The University of Missouri Studies, XIX, 1, 19^.
<

Supplementing Flclnlanum, ed. Paul Oscar Kristeller. 2 vols. (Florence, 1937 ) " Freudenthal, J. Die Lebensgeschichte Spinozas (Leipzig, 1899 ).

Spinoza. Leben und Lehre. ed. Carl Gebhardt, 2 vols. in one (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1927 ). Bibliotheca S-oinozniia Cur is Societatis Splnozanae, Tomus V. Gebhardt, Carl. Spinozas Verhandlung uber die Verbesserung des Verstandes (Heidelberg, 1905).

329

Ooodenough,

. L.

An Introduction to Phi ip Judaeus Cpinoza (Pelican Books , 1991)-

(New haven,

19*t0).

Hampshire, Ctuart.

ed., The Age of Be .non; 'pie 17th Century Philosophers York: Mentor Books, 195^)

(hew

Boeffdiuj, Bara Id. A History of Modern Philosophy: B he tea of the history of Philosophy from * :1 . e Close of the henalssance to our Cvm D a y , tr. from the Geraan edition B. 1. Meyer "(London: Macmillan L Co., 1921). Jouchin, H. H. bpinoza *s Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione (Oxford,

19*+oX Klibansky, Raymond. The Continuity of the Platonic Tradition During the Middle Ages : Outlines of a Corpus Platonicon Hedil A e v l . (London: The Warburg Institute, 1939) Kristeller, Paul Oskar. The Philosophy of Marsilio Ficino, tr. Virginia Conant (New York: Columbia University Press, 19*+3). Number Six of the Columbia Studies in Philosophy edited under the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. McKeon, Richard. The Philosophy of Spinoza: The Unity of His Thought (Nev York: Longmans, Green & Co., 192%). Meijer, Wi Collection of Facsimiles of Spinozas Letters (The Hague, 1903).

Nicolas Cusanas. Of Learned Ignorance. tr. Fr. Germain Heron, introd. D. J. B. Hawkins (New Haven: Yale University Press, 195*0Parkinson, G. H. R. Plato. Spinozas Theory of Knowledge (Oxford, 195*0.

Pl&tonis Opera, ed. John Burnet (Oxford, 1900). Plato with An English Translation, tr. H. N. Fowler, W. R. M. Lamb, R. G. Bury, and Paul Shorey (London: William Heinemann, 191*+-1935) I n . the Loeb Classical Library. The Dialogues of Plato, tr. Benjamin Jewett (New York: House, 1937). The Republic of Plato, tr. Francis Macdonald Cornford Oxford University Press, 19*+1). Random (London:

Seneca.

L. Annael Senecae ad Luc Ilium Eplstulae Morales. ed. Achilles Beltrami, 2 vols. jRoae, 19*+9)

Servaas van Rooijen, A. J. Inventalre dee livres formant la biblioteque de Benedict de Spinoza (The Hague, 1859). Simeterre, Raymond. Introduction a 1 etude de Platon. (Paris, 1918).

330

Biwek, Paul.

Au Coeur du Spinozlzne

(p .ris:

Deccleo de Brouwer,

1532).

Spinoza, Benedictus de. Opera quotguot reperta s unt. ed. J. Van VIoter. et J. P. N. Land, 3d ed?, * 4 vols. In (The Hague: Martin

Kijhofr, 191*4).
The Chief Works of 3er.edlct de Spinoza, Translated from ~ . . e Latin, V /1th an Introduction , R. H. M. Elwee. 2 vols in one (Hew York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1951)-

ethics Preceded by On the Improvement of the Understandin;~ by Benedict de Spinoza, tr. William Hale White (1683), trT revised Amelia Hutchinson Stirling (1891* , 1899), od. Janes Gutmann (New York: Hofner Publishing Co., 19**9). The Correspondence of Spinoza, tr. A ed. Abraham Wolf (New York: The Dial Press, 1927) . Taylor, A. E. Platonism and Its Influence (New York, 1932). In Metaphys icara Aristotelis Commentaria (Tourine,

Thomas Aquinas, St. 1935).

William of Ockham. Ockham: Studies and Selections. ed. & tr. Stephen Chak Tornay (LaSalle 111.: The Open Court Publishing Co., 1938) Wolf, A. The Oldest Biography of Spinoza (New York: Dial Press, 1SG7),

Spinoza^ Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well-Being (LacLon: Black, 1910). Wolfson, Henry Austryn. Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. 2 vols. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 19^7)The Philosophy of Spinoza: Unfolding the Latent Processes of His Reasoning, 2 vols. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 193*0.

VITA SHEET:

Frank A. Hayes

Born November 16, 1919 at Chicago, Illinois. Mt. Carael High School, Chicago, June, 1937* University, Chicago, 1938-19^1. Corps, May, 19^2. February, 19^*6-

Graduated

Attended De Paul

Enlisted U. S. A n y Signal

Discharged frosi A n y vlth rank of Sergeant, Attended Stanford University, 19^*6-1950, Master's

receiving B.A. in philosophy and M.A. in classics.

thesis, A Preface to Seneca's Moral Epistles. Header and emergency instructor in Latin, Stanford University, 19&8-1950. Graduate vork In philosophy at Shiversity of California, Berkeley, 1951-1953> and Indiana University, 1953-1955. Associate, Indiana University, 1953-195**. Philosophy, Tndlana University, 195^-1955* of Philosophy, Coe College, 1955Teaching

Graduate Fellow in Assistant Professor

. Doctoral thesis, Platonic

Elements in Suinosa's Theory of Method.