A HISTOEY OF
THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
,1
A HISTORY OF THE
PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
BY
PAUL JANET & GABRIEL SEAILLES
Membre de L'Institut Docteur es Lettres
Professeur a la Faculte des Lettres Maitre de Conferences a la Faculte
de Paris des Lettres de Paris
TRANSLATED BY
ADA M ON A HAN
EDITED BY
HENRY JONES, LL.D.
Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Glaf
VOL. 11.
X n ti o n
MACMILLAN AN1> ('<>., Limited
NEW YORK : THE MAIM 1 1. LAN I
19U-J
GLASGOW : PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO.
CONTENTS
PART II. ETHK's.
CHAP. PAOI
I. The Ethical Problem in Ancient Times, - 1
II. The Ethical Problem in Modern Times, 47
PART III M ETA PHYSICS.
I. Scepticism and Certitude,- - 93
'II. Matter, ... I4ti
/ III. Mind, - - - L80
IV. The Relations Between Matter and Mind, - -214
PART IV. THEODICY.
I. The Religious Problem in Ancient Timks and in the
Middle Ages, ----- 247
II. The Religious Problem in Modern Times, - -'"I
III. The Problem of a Future Life,
INDEX TO PROPER NAMES
Abelard (1079-1142). Ethics, 49, 50 ; the world-soul, 195 (see Scholastics).
iENESiDEMUs (first century). Scepticism, 110, 111.
Agrippa the Sceptic (first century). Scepticism, 110, 111.
Albertus Magnus (1193-1280 a.d.). On conscience, 50, 51 ; the soul,
194, 195 ; matter and mind, 229 ; on the existence of God, 275 (see
Scholastics).
Alexander of Aphrodisias (flourished circa 200 a.d.). The soul, 196.
Amalric of Bena (died circa 1206). Pantheism, 288.
Ammonius SAccAs(cz'rca 175-250 a.d.). Neo-platonic theory of the soul, 191 .
Anaxagoras (born circa 500 B.C.). Scepticism and certitude, 95 ; matter,
149 ; mind, 183 ; matter and mind, 216 ; theology, 250.
Anaximander (born 611 B.C.). The Infinite, 147.
Anaximenes (disciple of Anaximander). The "air," 147, 214.
Anselm, St., of Canterbury (1033-1109). Faith and reason, 117 ; proofs
of the existence of God : the ontological aVgument, 276-278.
Antiochus of Ascalon (pupil of Philo of Larissa and a teacher of Cicero).
Eclecticism, 109.
Antisthenes (born 444 B.C.). Ethics, 29.
Aquinas, St. Thomas (1225-1274). Ethics, 51 ; faith and reason, 117;
the soul, 195, 196 ; the soul and the body, 229 ; proofs of the exist
ence of God, 275 ; criticism of the ontological argument, 278 ; proof
a contingentia mundi, 279, 280 ; proof of the first mover, 280 ; proof
of final causes, 280; the nature of God: creation and Providence,
281-286.
Arcesilaus (315-241 B.C.). Probabilism, 105.
Aristippus of Ctrene (born circa 435 B.C.). Ethics, 24.
Ariston of Chios (flourished circa 260 B.C.). Ethics, 32.
Aristophanes (born circa 444 B.C.). Theogony, 247.
Aristotle (384-322 B.C.). Ethics : happiness and virtue, 16 j justice, 20,
21 ; friendship, 21, 22 ; the contemplative life, 22, 23 ; impossibility of
proving everything: intuitive certainty of principles, 99; fcheorj of
matter, 152-154 ; the soul the formal, efficient, and final cause of the
body, 185 ; matter and form, 219,. 220 ; the bouI and the body, 221 ;
the Trpevfja, 222 ; the potential and the actual, 258-262 : proof of the
first mover, 263, 264 ; the future life : impersonal immortality, 258 259
vii
VIII
INDEX TO PROPER NAMES
Augustine, St., of Hippo (354-430). Faith, religions and rational, 115,
116 ; theory of the soul, 194 ; the soul and the body, 228 ; Christian
and Platonic theology, 271 ; creation and the Trinity, 272-274.
Averroes (1125-1198 a.d.). The active intellect impersonal and im-
mortal, 196.
Bacon, Francis, Lord Verulam (1561-1626). On matter, 159.
Bayle (1647-1706). Religious scepticism, 171 ; objections against op-
timism, 324-329.
Bentham (1747-1832). Moral arithmetic, 74-76.
Berkeley, George (1685-1753). On sensible certainty, 127-129; denies
the existence of matter, 170.
Bernard of Chartres (1070-1160). The world-soul, 194.
Bernard, Saint (1091-1153). Mysticism, 51, 52.
Bonnet, Charles, of Geneva (1720-1793). Palingenesia, 330, 369.
Bossuet (1627-1704). Proofs of the existence of God, 298, 300.
Brochard. On Pyrrho, 105.
Bruno, Giordano (1548-1600). Theory of matter, 158.
Buchner, Louis (1824-1899). Force and matter, 178 ; atheism, 338.
Carneades (214-129 b.c.). Probabilism, 105-107.
Caro, E. M. (1826-1887). His Idte de Dieu, 348.
Carrau, Ludovic. His work on the proofs of the immortality of the
soul in the Phaedo referred to, 354.
C^esalpinus (1509-1603). Theory of matter, 196.
Charron (1541-1603). Scepticism, 118.
( Ihrysippus (282-209 b.c.) Natural law, 34 ; the fear of the gods, 36, 37 ;
the human soul, 188; vindication of Providence, 267; immortality,
360.
Cicero (106-43 b.c.). Quoted 33, 34, 35 ; ethics, 38, 39 ; eclecticism,
109, 1 10.
Clarke, Samuel (1675-1729). The proofs of the existence of God, 301.
Cleanthes (a pupil of Zeno the Stoic). Ethics : Hymn quoted, 35, 36 ;
the seat of the soul, 224 ; proof of the existence of God, 265 ; reli-
gious feeling, 268 ; immortality, 360.
Comte, Auguste (1798-1857). Positivism and certitude, 141 ; the law
of the three states and the religion of humanity, 340, 342 ; future
existence reduced to the worship of great men, 373.
Cousin, Victor (1792-1 867). Spiritualistic theism, 344 ; the immortality
of the soul, 372.
Crates of Thebes (pupil of Diogenes the Cynic). Ethics, 29.
Cudworth (1617-1688). Theory of the Plastic medium, 241.
David of Dinant (flourished circa 200). Pantheism, 287, 289
Democritus (born circa 460 B.C.). Ethics, 3 ; matter, 149, 150 ; mind, 182.
Descartes (1596-1650). Ethics, 52-58; theory of certitude, 118-121;
matter and extension, 159-162 ; the soul, 196, 197 ; extension and
thought : the soul and the body, 230, 233 ; proofs of the existence of
God, 292-297 ; God the cause of Himself, 307-309 ; God the Creator
INDEX TO PROPER NAMES ix
of the eternal truths, 308 ; doctrine of continuous creation, 309 ; the
Divine veracity, 310, 311 ; the immortality of the soul, 364, 365.
Diderot (1713-1784). Philosophy of the Encyclopedic, 301.
Diogenes of Apollonia (a contemporary of Anaxagoras). Theory of
mind, 189 ; matter and mind, 214.
Dionysius the Areopagite (First century). Theology, 286-287.
Du Bois-Reymond. On matter and mind, 207.
Duns Scotus (died 1308). Matter and the individual soul, 22!) ; im-
possibility of an infinite series of causes, 279.
Eckart, Meister (died 1329). Mystical pantheism, 289, 290.
Empedocles (born circa 492 B.C.). Scepticism as regards sensible know-
ledge, 94, 95 ; on matter, 148, 149 ; relation of matter to mind, 216.
Enfantin, Le Pere (1796.-1864). The future life, 373.
Epictetus (time of Nero). Ethics, 40, 41 ; religious feeling of, 268 ;
immortality, 361, 362.
Epicurus (341-270 B.C.). Ethics, 25-29 ; the criterion of certainty, 102-
104 ; matter, 154, 155 ; theory of the soul, 187, 188 ; relation of soul
and body, 225 ; arguments against the immortality of the soul, 359-361 .
Euler (1707-1783). Theory of physical influx, 241.
Fenelon (1651-1715). His work on the existence of God referred to,
264, 266.
Feuerbach, Ludwig A. (1804-1872). Sensationalism, 177-178.
Fichte (1762-1814). Theory of matter, 175, 176; the soul, 209, 210;
unity of substance, 243 ; philosophy of religion, 333, 334.
Fouillee, Alfred (born 1838). The future life in Plato, 355.
Galen (131-200 a.d.). Physiological theory of the pnewma, 225-227, 229,
230.
Galileo (1564-1642). His discoveries draw attention to the problem of
matter, 158.
Gassendi (1592-1655). Matter, 159 ; the ontological argument, 297.
Gaunilo (flourished circa 1040). Criticism of the ontological argument,
277, 278.
Gerson (1363-1429). Proof of the existence of God, 280.
Girard, Jules. His work Du Sentiment religieux <hc. les greet referred
to, 248.
Gregory, St., of Nyssa (331-394). The soul, 193.
Hamilton, Sir William (1788-1856). Religious criticism, 339.
Hartmann, von (born 1842). Pessimism, 337.
Hegel (1770-1831). Theory of matter, 176, 177; theory of mind, 210,
211 ; proofs of the existence of God, 305, 307 ; theology, 336, 337.
Hegesias (flourished circa 260 b.c). The last of the < lyrenaica, 25.
Helvetius (1715-1771). Ethics, 72-74; materialism, 206.
Heraclitus (born circa 500 b.c.). Ethics, 3 ; matter, I 17 ; the Boul, 181 ;
matter and mind, 214-215 ; the future life, 351-352.
Hesiod (flourished circa 735 b.c). Ethical notions of, 2, :; ; his tl ,l:<>ii\.
249.
x INDEX TO PROPER NAMES
Hilary, St., of Poitiers (died 367). Materialism, 193.
Hippocrates (born circa 460 b.c). Theory of the pneuma, 188, 189 ;
222-223.
Hobbes (1588-1679). Ethics, 71-72 ; materialism, 171.
Holbach d' (1723-1789). His Systeme de la Nature, 172 ; the soul and
the brain, 206 ; atheism, 301.
Homer. Ethics of, 2 ; theology, 248 ; the future life, 351.
Hugo of St. Victor (1097-1141). Mysticism, 52 ; proofs of the existence
of God, 279, 281.
Hume, David (1711-1776). Ethics, 77; empirical scepticism: theory of
belief, 129, 133; negation of matter, 170-171, 173; phenomenalism,
242.
Hutciieson (1694-1746). Theory of a moral sense, 77.
John, St., Gospel of. The wvev^a, 191.
Jouffroy, Theodore (1796-1842). Summary of the ethics of Adam Smith,
79 ; the ego, 212 ; immortality, 372.
Kant (1724-1804). Ethics, 55, 80-84 ; the criterion of truth, 134-137 ;
scientific certainty, 138 ; metaphysical certainty, 139 ; impossibility
of inferring the soul from the ego, 207-209 ; criticism of the proofs of
the existence of God, 301-305 ; ethical proof of the existence of God,
305 ; nature and attributes of God, 331-333 ; the immortality of the
soul the postulate of morality, 369-371.
Lachelier (born 1832). Work on The Foundations of Induction quoted,
144.
Lamennais (1782-1854). Perfectibilism, 373.
Lamettrie, de (1709-1751). Materialism, 171 ; relation between soul and
body, 206.
Lange (1828-1875). His History of Materialism quoted, 150, 158, 171,
178, 179.
Laromiguiere (1756-1837). On Cudworth and the Plastic medium,
241.
Lassalle, Ferdinand (1824-1864). His work Die Philosophic Heracleitos
des Dunklen referred to, 147.
Leibnitz (1646-1716). Ethics, 66-70 ; intuitive, demonstrative, and sen-
sible certitude, 125-127 ; theory of matter, 166-170 ; theory of mind,
199-202 ; the pre-established harmony and the soul of the world, 201 ;
intercommunication of substances : their pre-established harmony,
238 ; soul and body, 240 ; the ontological argument, 298-299 ; proofs
a contingentia mundi, 299 ; Providence and optimism, 322-327 ; theory
of moral necessity, 327 ; divine freedom, 329 ; the immortality of the
soul and metamorphosis, 365-367.
Leroux. Theory of metempsychosis, 372.
Locke (1632 1704). The nature of mind, 203, 204.
Lucretius (95-52 b.c.). Ethics, 37, 38 ; matter, 150 ; atomism, 154, 155 ;
the soul, 182 ; matter and mind, 225 ; arguments against the immor-
tality of the soul, 359-360.
imm;\ to pkopeb names
\l
Maine de Biran (1766-1824). The ego and the soul, 212.
Malebranche (1638-17 15). Ethics, 58-61 ; certitude and vision in God,
121-123; intelligible extension and bodies, L64-166 j the intercom
munication of substances: theory of occasional causes, 233-235; the
existence of God, 300 ; nature and action of God, 31 1-31. "> : IVovidi
and optimism, 314.
Mamertus, Claudianus (flourished circa middle of fifth century). Spiri-
tuality of the soul, 193.
Mansel (1820-1871). Religious criticism, 339-340.
Marcus Aurelius (121-180 a.d.). Ethics, 41-42; the existent of evil,
267 : religious feeling, 268 ; immortality of the bouI, 362.
Marsilio Ficino (1433-1499). Philosophy of the Renaissance, 19<
Martha. Work on Lucretius referred to, 25, 360 : quoted, 37.
M elanchthon (1497-1560). The soul and the body, 229, 230.
Mill, John Stuart (1806-1873). Utilitarian ethics. 84-87; certainty,
133; phenomenalism, 205, 206 ; knowledge and religious belief, 340.
Moleschott, Jacob (bom 1822). Materialism, 17S, -206.
Montaigne (1533-1592). Scepticism, 118.
Newton (1642-1727). -Space and the existence of God, 301.
Nicolaus of Autricttria (nourished circa middle of l ith centurj
Atomism, 158.
Ockam, William of (died circa 1349). Nominalism : faith separated from
knowledge, 117; the soul and the body, 229; impossibility of an
infinite chain of causes, 279.
Ollk-Lai'kuxe. Quoted on Aristotle, 17 ; on the philosophy of Male-
branche, 166.
Panaetius (born circa 180 b.c). Negation of the immortality of the bouI,
360.
Parmemides (born circa 515 b.c). Antithesis between knowledge and
opinion, 95 ; matter, 148 ; mind, 181 ; the spiritual and the corporeal
not distinguished by, 21").
Paul, St. On charity, 47, 48 ; on faith, 1 L5 ; the spirit, 191.
Pherecydes of Stros (nourished circa 600 b.c). Belief in immortality,
351.
Philo of Lakissa (flourished circa 75 B.C.).- Theory of certainty
ticism, 108.
Philo the Jew (born circa 25 b.c). -Theory of the pneuma, 190 191.
Phocylides (born 560 b.c). Moral reflections of, : '-
Pindar (born circa 522 B.c). Belief in immortality, 351.
Plato (428-347 b.c.). Kt hies, 10-16; the sovereign good, 13 16; doctrine
of expiation, 16; the Ideas and certainty, 98, 99 ; theorj of matter,
150-152; the world soul and individual BOUls, 184, 185; mallei
the Idea, 217, 218 ; the soul and the body, 219 ; the idea of I
252-254; proofs of the existence of God, 254 856; Providei
immortality of the soul: doctrine of pre-existenoe and metem|
chosis, 353-355.
xii INDEX TO PROPER NAMES
Plotinus (died 269 a.d.). Ethics, 42-44; certitude and ecstasy, 115;
matter, 157, 158 ; theory of the soul, 191, 192 ; the soul and the body,
227, 228 ; theology : the Alexandrian Trinity : doctrine of procession
and the return to God, 268-271 ; the future life and metempsychosis,
363.
Pomponatius (died 1525). The soul, 196.
Porphyry (flourished circa 260 a.d.). Ethics, 44, 45.
Prantl. Quoted, 158.
Praxagoras (4th century B.C.). Theory of the pneuma, 223.
Protagoras (born circa 491 B.C.). Ethics, 5 ; scepticism, 96, 251.
Pyrrho (time of Alexander the Great). Ethics, 30, 31 ; scepticism, 104,
105.
Pythagoras (born circa 582 B.C.). Ethics, 3, 4 ; matter, 147, 148 ; mind,
182 ; matter and mind, 215 ; metempsychosis, 382.
Ravaisson (born 1813). Theory of the soul, 212 ; on Aristotle's proof of a
first mover, 263-264 ; work on the Metaphysics of Aristotle referred
to, 269 ; spiritualism, 348.
Regius (Le Roy), (1632-1707). The union of soul and body accidental not
essential, 365.
Reid, Thomas (1710-1796). Common sense doctrine of the soul, 212, 213.
Reman, Ernest (1823-1892). His work on Averroes referred to, 196 ;
religious criticism, 348.
Renouvier (born 1815). View of religion, 348.
Reynaud, Jean (1806-63). Immortality of the soul, 372, 373.
Richard of St. Victor (died 1173). Six degrees in contemplation, 52 ;
proof of the existence of God a contingent ia mundi, 279.
Ritter (1779-1859). History of Greek philosophy referred to, 147, 196.
Rousseau J. J. (1712-1778). Deism, 330, 331 ; a future life, 369.
Saint-Lambert (1716-1803). Materialism, 206.
Saisset, Emile. Work on ^Enesidimus referred to, 111 ; work on the
argument of St. Anselm referred to, 278 ; religious philosophy,
344-348.
Schelling (1775-1854). Theory of matter, 176 ; the soul, 210 ; the soul
and the body, 243 ; religious philosophy, 334, 335.
Scholastics, The. Progressive separation of faith and reason, 116-118 ;
theory of the soul, 194-196 ; relations between mind and matter, 228-
230 ; proofs of the existence of God, 275-281.
Schopenhauer (1788-1860). Pessimism, 337, 338.
Scotus Erigena (born circa 800 a.d.). Pantheistical theology, 287-288.
Secretan. Religious philosophy, 348.
Seneca (3-65 a.d.). Ethics, 33, 35, 36, 39, 40 ; matter and mind, 224 ;
immortality of the soul, 361.
Sextus Empiricus (first half of 3rd century). Scepticism, 112-114.
Shaftesbury (1671-1713). The moral sense, 76, 77.
Simon, Jules (1814-1896). Spiritualism, 348.
Smith, Adam (1723-1790). Ethics founded on sympathy, 78-80.
INDEX TO PROPER NAMES xiii
Socrates (born circa 469, died 399 B.C.). Ethics, theoretical and practical,
6-10 ; certitude, 97-99 ; reaction against materialism, 150 ; the soul,
184 ; matter and mind, 216 ; proofs of the existence of God by final
causes : Providence, 251-252 ; the immortality of the sou!. 352, 553.
Solon (born circa 638 B.C.). Moral teaching, 3.
Sophists. Ethics, 4-6; character of their scepticism, 96-97; religion-
scepticism, 251.
Spencer, Herbert (born 1820). Evolutionist ethics, 87-89 ; criterion of
truth, 142, 143 ; evolution and the religion of the Unknowable.
342-344.
Spinoza (1632-1677). Ethics, 61-66 ; theory of certainty, 123-125; exten-
sion an attribute of God, 162 ; bodies modes of the divine extension,
163, 164 ; the soul of the world, 197, 198 ; the human soul, 199 ;
relation between extension and thought, their parallel development,
235-238; the ontological argument, 298; the nature and attributes
of God, 315 ; the divine thought, 317 ; the divine extension, 318, 319 ;
the eternal and infinite modes, 319, 320 ; divine freedom and necessity,
321, 322 ; impersonal immortality, 367-369.
Stoics. Ethics, general, individual, social, and religious, 31-37 ; cri-
terion of truth, 101, 102; matter, 155, 156; theory of the pneuma,
188, 189 ; matter and force, 223, 224 ; the soul and the body, 225 :
theology, 224; argument of universal consent, 265; proof by final
causes, 265-267; Providence and optimism, 267; theories of the im-
mortality of the soul, 360-363.
Taine (born 1828-1893). His Philosophes Classiques referred to, 372.
Tertullian (160-220 a.d.). Materialism, 193, 228.
Thales (born circa 640 b.c.). Matter, 147; the humid principle, 21-1 ;
theology, 249.
Theodorus the Atheist (disciple of Aristippus of Cyrene). Ethics, -' I 25
Theognis (flourished circa 548 B.C.). Moral teaching. 2.
Thomas, St. See Aquinas.
Tyndall (1820-1893). Relation between physical states and the bete ol
consciousness, 242.
Ueberweg. History of Philosophy referred to, 50.
Vacherot. Theory of God, 348.
Waddington, Charles. His work on Pyrrho referred to, 30.
William of Auvergne (died 1249). The soul, 195.
William of Conches (1080-1154). The soul of the world, 194.
Xenophanes (flourished between 540 and 500 B.C.). Dogmatism, 94
theology, 349, 350.
Xenophon (born circa 444 b.c). His Memorabilia quoted, 7, B, 9, 10;
his Symposium referred to, 30 ; on a future life, 352.
Zeller (1814). Quoted, 30, 108, 151-152 ; historj of philosophy referred
to, 158, 180, 217, 355, 357.
Zeno the Stoic (350-258 b.c. ).-Et hies, 24, 27. 29; the criterion of troth,
102 ; the persistence of the soul after death, 360
PART II
ETHICS
CHAPTER I
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES
The history of ethics has, apart from the light which it throws
on philosophy in general, an interest peculiar to itself. For,
whilst metaphysical theories are often the work of men not
in close contact with practical life, the ethical theories of a
philosopher, on the contrary, give nearly always an ideal
interpretation of the customs and moral sentiments of his age.
Moralists are in a sense the legislators of nations, for they
in truth dictate laws to the nobler minds, whose ideal of
conduct is not bounded by the narrow limits of mere legality.
Ethical systems, no less than legal codes, have for their foun-
dations, as Plato says, not "rocks and oaks, but the
customs of the state" {Rep. Book VIII, Chapter II): and Ear
more clearly than philosophy or science, they reveal to us the
character and spirit of the nations to which they belong. The
history of human societies explains, and is in its turn explained
by the history of ethics.
Practical morality which is too often ignored in the
exposition of moral systems, as if it were subordinate and a
matter of detail, really possesses the same historical interesl
as theoretical ethics. It is in a way even more instructive,
for it enables us to penetrate more deeply into the life and
thought of past centuries. Practice has often been not only tin-
starting point, but perhaps also the determining cause of moral
theory. Logic comes later to the support of morality and only
to justify, by means of reasoning, ideas which were originally
simple intuitions. Moral truths gain cogency when the) are
presented in the form of deductions, and so afford each othei
II. A
2 THE PBOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
mutual support. Hence moral teachers, who are in any case
anxious to prove that their precepts are based on the authority
of reason, have grouped their ideas systematically, thereby
gratifying the human mind in its love of order.
If the doctrines of philosophers thus express in the most
perfect form the moral conceptions of a people, they may be
taken at the same time as the measure of the progress made by
the human conscience in the different ages. Thus, in addition
to their purely historical interest, these ethical doctrines have a
speculative interest of the highest order, for they prove that
conscience itself obeys the law of evolution.
Nevertheless, we must not fall into the common error of
believing that even those theoretical speculations, which to the
intelligence have been most convincing, have changed the
customary morality of a people. For men's hearts are not
transformed by speculative doctrines, not even by those that
bring most conviction to their minds. If conscience changes
it is only by a slow and gradual progress. Nor is this pro-
gress uniform and continuous. The deviations in its course
give evidence of the diversity of the minds in which, at
different times and in many different ways, it has been
actualized.
Ethical Notions of Pre^hilosophic times.
Ethical thought began to manifest itself at the earliest
period of the existence of human societies, and found expres-
sion both in the works of law-givers and of poets. Arising
out of reflections which not only great events but also
the ordinary accidents of life must suggest to all men,
moral science took at first the form of an entirely practical
teaching. In Greece its first expositors were : Homer, in
whose pictures of real life Horace professes to find a lofty
morality (Ejnstles, 1, 2), Hesiod (Works and Days), the gnomic
poets, Solon, Theognis, and the seven sages whose very names
are uncertain.
Ethics in Homer appears as the courage and tender-
ness of Achilles, the perseverance of Ulysses, the fidelity of
Penelope, the punishment of Paris in the Iliad, and of the
suitors in the Odyssey. With Hesiod moral reflection proper
begins to appear, but it is still feeble, and only shows
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 3
itself in connection with the poet's individual experiences.
He was thinking of his quarrels with his brother when
he wrote, "there are two kinds of contests, one is odious
and reprehensible, for example lawsuits and trials, the
other is noble and salutary, such is the emulation of
.artists and artisans." The fable of the nightingale and the
hawk was suggested to him by all he had suffered through the
injustice of kings.
Of the poems written between the ninth century (the
.supposed time of Hesiod) and the sixth, only a few fragments
have come down to us. The seven sages were not philosophers,
but practical men who endeavoured to inculcate and popularize
moral ideas by means of short maxims and familiar discourses.
They made no attempt at argument or discussion, being con-
tent to set forth clearly truths that were supposed to be either
.self-evident or based on some divine authority. The gnomic
poets, Solon and Phocylides, likewise expressed in their moral
reflections the results of human experience : the dangers of
violence, the necessity of moderation in private as in public life.
And so forth.
The Naturalism of Democritus. Mystic Morality of the Pytii"-
goreans. The Sophists ; Nature Opposed to Law.
Heraclitus and Democritus were the first philosophers to set
forth ethical notions as the logical consequences of a philoso-
phical theory. Heraclitus, while teaching that everything is
in a state of flux and that nothing endures, counsels man bo
submit to the universal order of things, and to let himself be
gently borne along with the unceasing flow of phenomena.
Democritus derives from sensuous principles the morality of
an intelligent self-interest. He regards happiness as the end
of life, but he makes it consist in good health, g I humour,
and peace of mind, and thus makes temperance its necessary
condition.
The greatest moral teachers amongsl pre-Socratic philosophers
were the Pythagoreans. It is difficult to determine precisely the
connection between their practical and their speculative philo-
sophy, but the general tendency of their morality was mystic.
The Pythagoreans taught that human Life is in God's hands,
.and consequently they condemned suicide as an acl of impiety.
4 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
But it was not by describing its delights that they sought to
reconcile man to life ; on the contrary, they maintained that
it would be well for the soul to be delivered from the prison-
house of the body, but she must respect God's commands, and
remain on earth to expiate the sins of a former life. It would
seem that for them the renunciation of happiness is the
necessary condition of virtue. Temperance is the contest
waged by the rational soul against the passions. The idea of
Justice is expressed by the stern law of retaliation, and to define
it the Pythagoreans use an untranslatable term, avTLireirovdo?,
" to suffer from another that which one has done to him."
Friendship, for the Pythagoreans, was a manly virtue, free from
all weakness. " We should help others to take up their
burdens," they said, " but we must not carry them in their
stead." In the rules of the community at Crotona, the
asceticism of their teaching is still more marked. Pythagoras
anticipated all the notions of the founders of monastic orders.
The community of goods, celibacy, the rule of silence, prayer,
hymns sung in common, and self-examination, are all enjoined
by him.
" Let not thine eyelids yield to slumber, till thou hast submitted to thy
reason all the actions of the day. ' In what have I failed ? What have I
done ? Of what is commanded, have I omitted aught ? ' Having thus
reviewed the first of thine actions, consider them all one by one in the
same way, and if thou hast done wrong, humble thyself. If thou hast
done well, rejoice" {Golden Sayings).
The influence of this austere morality of Pythagoras was.
destined to last long. Its traces are particularly visible in
Platonism. In Pythagoreanism there appears for the first
time the great conception of asceticism, which, broadly speaking,
consists in sacrificing the natural to the moral.
In connection with this doctrine we may discuss a view
which was more in accordance with the Greek spirit, and
which found about the same time its first exponents in the
Sophists that of Naturalism. In ethics, as in politics, the
starting point of the Sophists was the fundamental distinction
made by them between nature ((pvcris) and custom (6e<ris).
Prom this principle was derived their theory of Law (uofxo^y
The antithesis between natural and conventional laws, so
eloquently set forth by Hippias (Plato, Protag. 337 c) was adopted
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 5
and expressed in similar terms by all the Sophists. Each,
however, interprets it in his own way. For ' Nature ' is one
of the vaguest of terms, and the Sophists did not define it.
But, beyond doubt, its truest meaning is that which was given
to it later by Socrates and the Stoics, namely, reason: and
this seems to have been the way in which Protagoras already
understood it, when he said that Nature has given to all men
the knowledge of what is just (Slier]) and of what is unjust
(aSacoi), and when he makes moral justice thus founded on
Nature, the basis of political justice (Protagoras, 322 a-c).
Alcidamus and Lycophron seem also to use the word in that
sense, when they denounce as contrary to nature the former
the difference made by the laws between the freeman and the
slave, the latter the distinction drawn by prejudice between
the different classes of citizens. Thus the Law (vo/j.09), in so
far as it is opposed to Nature (cpvo-is), is unjust and contrary
to reason, and in so far as it is derived from and in accordance
with Nature, it is the expression of reason itself.
But the Sophists did not believe in the validity of Reason,
and if the masters did not deliberately preach immorality, their
disciples were more bold. The speech which Plato puts into
the mouth of Callicles (Gorgias, 482 e) shows what the result
would be if this antithesis of Nature to custom were logically
carried out. It is the will of Nature that the strong should
rule over the weak. The man who had the intelligence bo
despise the conventional justice instituted by men, and the
courage to defy them, would on his part seek to feel the reek lex-
joy of life, to taste of all life's pleasures; confiding in his
strength, which would make him feared by others, he would
give full rein to his passions, and would always find the
means of indulging them, ft is in this way, thai from time to
time, in the midst of society, life according to Nature is
realized in a few exceptional beings. The natural Laws also
apply to the State, in a more general if less obvious way.
Civil Law, according to Callicles, may be reduced to the will of
the stronger, and according to Thrasymachus ( Plate, Rep, I. 33
to the will of the Rulers. As for thai purely human justice
which forbids violence, it is a mere convention, a prejudice
fostered by the weak, whose interest, it serves: to Sucatov k<u
to cuo"YQOV ov (pvcrei aXAa vo/u.(j).
6 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
The Sophists were always ready to assign a conventional
origin to every kind of institution. Thus, their disciple Critias
discerned in the belief in the Gods a successful artifice, em-
ployed by legislators in order that fear might prevent, or that
remorse might disclose, secret crimes which would otherwise
go unpunished. Such a free interpretation of political and
religious notions was at that time both daring and original.
It was a remarkable innovation in the world of thought that
the law, to which in the beginning all nations ascribed a sacred
character, should be reduced to the level of a natural fact.
The revolutions in Greece had taught their lesson. The
different forms of Government, which men had seen alternately
established by violence and by violence overthrown, had lost
all prestige ; and now philosophy, with its independent criti-
cism, finished the work of making them appear contemptible.
Unfortunately, the Sophists were inclined to exaggerate the
artificial character of laws and institutions. That they should
be regarded as a human, and consequently imperfect product,
was enough, without further representing them as merely
arbitrary, the result of caprice or of a blind force. To see
nothing in the Laws except the inventions of Legislators, to
ignore the natural basis on which they rest, was to be blind
to the order which rules among human affairs. To leave to
the established laws no raison d'etre beyond the fact of their
existence, was to deprive them further of authority and to
justify beforehand those acts of violence which change for
good or evil the character of a state. Thus for all their bold
attacks on prejudice, the moral teaching of the Sophists was
itself a reflection of the opinions of an age, in which the respect
for law had been weakened by the melancholy spectacle of
successive revolutions.
Socrates : Practical Morality ; The Teaching of Virtue.
For the Sophists, the teaching of Wisdom had been merely
an honourable and lucrative profession. For Socrates, it was
the fulfilment of a duty to his country, and of a divine mission.
He devoted himself to the moral instruction of the youth of
Athens, and, unlike the Sophists, he never thought of procuring
for himself a brilliant position. On the contrary, in order
that he might the better take upon himself the care of souls,.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 7
he ceased to occupy himself with his affairs, and gave no
thought to any concern of his own (Plato, Apology, 23 b).
His preaching was enforced by the example of his life, of his
private virtues and political courage. In truth, his great
reputation for virtue was needed if the militant ardour
and indiscretions of his zeal were to be forgiven him.
Socrates adopted a peculiar method of instruction which
reflects a curious feature in Athenian life. The Greeks, whose
private life was led in the market place, under the public gaze,
allowed their philosophers to take a liberty which seems
surprising to us, that of choosing as a text for their moral
lessons, the actions and conduct of any private individual
among them. Socrates was the first to exercise this kind of
moral censorship. He tells us himself that he was to all the
citizens like a father or an elder brother, exhorting them to
virtue (Plato, Apol. 31). We find him as virtue's true
" agent " intervening with his advice in the intimate concerns
of private individuals. He helps the young men, Glaucon and
Charmides, in the choice of a profession (Xen. Mem. Ill, (i
and 7) ; he reconciles two brothers, Chserephon and ChaTecrates,
who had quarrelled (Ibid., II, 3); he advises Aristarchus,
weighed down by his numerous relations, to escape from his
embarrassments by taking to work (Ibid. II, 7); filled with a
touching interest in humble folk, he exhorts Diodorua to give
help to Hermogenes in his poverty (Ibid. II, 10); and again,
Eutherus is persuaded by him to accept the honourable yoke of
domestic service, so that his old age may be sheltered from
want (Ibid. II, 8). In a word, wherever there is a good
action to be done or good counsel needed, there Socrates is
always to be found.
In the process of giving moral advice Socrates, incidentally
if one may so express it arrived at certain truths outside the
compass of his theoretical scheme. We may not be able to
find in his philosophy precepts condemning slavery or the sub-
jection of women, but, with regard to the latter, he certainly
taught that they should be treated with respect. In woman,
lie honours the mother and the wife. He makes gratitude the
basis of filial piety, and exhorts his son Lamprooles to beaj
with Xanthippe's trying temper, remembering the devoted oare
which she bestowed on him in his childh 1 (Mem. II. -).
8 THE PKOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
In conjugal life he regards woman as the equal of man. He
made no distinction between them except such as springs from
the different tasks in a concern that is common. To man
belongs outdoor work, to women the care of all within, and the
supervision of the house (Xen. CEcon. 1, 7). Good order in the
household will of itself secure the kind treatment of slaves.
The mistress of the house, of whom Socrates gives us an
ideal portrait (Ibid.), herself takes care of the slaves
when they are ill, preferring this task in fact to any other,
because thereby she insures devoted servants (Ibid.) Socrates
makes the position of the slave altogether honourable, when
he declares that he respects him for his services, and when he
points out to free men, who can only " eat and sleep," that
they should take example by the slaves, whose labour brings
ease and comfort to their employers (Mem. II, 7).
Such precepts, although they appeared in the modest form
of practical advice merely, had nevertheless a very lofty import,
and in order rightly to estimate their value, we must also bear
in mind that they were at that time quite new.
Theoretical Morals : Virtue, Knowledge, and Hcqipiness
identical.
Notwithstanding all this, Socrates would scarcely deserve
the title of philosopher if he had done no more than teach
virtue in Athens ; but, in fact, the noble thoughts communicated
oy his word formed in his mind a coherent system. Socrates
has rightly been called the founder of Moral Science, for all his
logical precepts (his yvooOi aeavTov, irony, maieutic, etc.) have
significance only when applied to practical life. His belief in
his own mission led him to declare that virtue was knowledge,
and could therefore be taught (Plato, Protag.). When he said
that virtue was knowledge, it was not the commonplace truth
that it is necessary to think correctly in order to act well that
Socrates announced. What he meant was, that one cannot
separate knowledge from action, because he who really knows
the good understands also that it is his interest to do it, con-
sequently he cannot do otherwise than choose it. The will
cannot go against reason, and when it is enlightened it always
makes for the good. Its weaknesses and faults are nothing
but errors of the intelligence. This follows necessarily from
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 9
.another principle, namely, that the interests of individuals
always coincide with the general good. For with Socrates the
good is neither pleasure as Aristippus understood it (Mem. II,
1), nor what it might please any casual individual to call the
good, such as wealth or honour. It is that which is esteemed
by all men without exception, that which all men agree in
proclaiming fair and good, KaXoKayaQov, and which is so in fact
universally and at all times, as are temperance and justice.
Now the good thus understood is the supremely useful ; for
whilst the value of riches, for instance, depends on the use that
is made of them, and they may consequently be as harmful to
one as they are useful to another, justice, on the contrary, is in
itself of so great a worth that its possession is always and
necessarily a good. The man that is guided by his own interesl
must always choose the Good, or virtue, and whoever first com-
mitted the error and the crime of separating the Good from the
Useful is consigned by Socrates to the infernal gods.
The good being identical with the useful, it follows that
happiness is the end of virtue. But happiness is itself
reducible to virtue, and finds in virtue its immediate realiza-
tion. For, according to Socrates, reason makes us despise
external goods, the signs of the uncertain favour of fortune
or of the gods (evTvyla). Reason conceives happiness {einrp(c^La \
as a holy joy, which implies the renunciation of common
delights. In this high sense of the term it may he truly
said that happiness does not deceive the hopes of those
who put their trust in it, and make themselves worthy to
enjoy it.
The means of attaining a happy life are the virtues, ami the
virtues are in their turn different kinds of knowledge. Bui the
virtue par excellence is wisdom, or the general knowledge of the
Good, while the other virtues are parts of wisdom, each being
the special knowdedge of a particular kind of good. Thus,
temperance is knowledge of the true good, as distinguished
from, the false good which men call pleasure; courage consists
in the just appreciation of merely apparent evils, such as sick-
ness or death, which are not to lie feared, and of line evils,
such as injustice, which should he shunned: finally, justice is
knowledge of that which is permitted or forbidden by human
or divine law.
10 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
If happiness and virtue are one, and if, in consequence, no
one is voluntarily evil, it is because the good has for man a
power divine. Hence the good has its origin in reason, and
not, as the Sophists said, in convention. There are two kinds
of laws, the written and the unwritten.
M ' But are you aware, Hippias,' asks Socrates, ' that there are un-
written laws ? ' ' You mean those,' asked Hippias, ' that are in force
about the same points everywhere ? ' ' Can you affirm then that men
made those laws ? ' ' How could they,' said Hippias, ' when they could
not all meet together, and do not all speak the same language ? ' ' Whom,,
then, do you suppose to have made those laws ? ' 'I believe,' said he,.
; that it was the gods who made those laws for men, for among all men
the first law is to respect the gods ' " {Mem. IV, 4).
The distinctive characteristic of the unwritten laws is that
they are universal, divinely instituted, and, as Socrates adds,
that they carry with them their own sanction.
" Those who violate the laws made by the gods incur punishment which
it is by no means possible for them to escape . . . many transgressors of
laws made by men escape punishment, some by concealment, others by
open violence" (Ibid.).
Thus, to the distinction, which had been established by the
Sophists, between natural and positive laws, Socrates gave a
new, and, at the same time, a more rational and accurate
meaning. And, while the Sophists only aimed at destroying
the authority of the laws, Socrates restored and strengthened
it by finding in the unwritten laws the source of the written
laws, and by making these participate in the sanctity and
majesty of the divine model of which they are, in his opinion,,
an imperfect image (Crito).
Plato : The Virtues ; Their Principle in Wisdom ; Their
Unity in Justice.
Plato adopted the ethical conceptions of Socrates, but as.
was always his way, he gave them a wider significance and a.
new authority by bringing to light the metaphysical principles
which were implied in them. He distinguishes three parts in
the soul, and assigns to each a special function and a special
excellence. Appetite {eiriQvixla), which has to be regulated
and restrained, only gives rise to a negative virtue, temperance ,
The spirited passion (Oufxos), being enlisted in the service of
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES II
virtue, becomes courage. Finally, Reason (vovg), when true to
herself, takes the name of wisdom.
If, on the one hand, the desires and needs of the body must
be satisfied to the extent necessary for its preservation, they
should, on the other hand, be fought against as an obstacle to
divine life, and, more especially, to the attainment of truth.
In the highest and most philosophic sense, temperance is, for
Plato, the renunciation of pleasure and the release of the soul
from the body (^w pio- /nog x/n^*? 9 r ^ 7 <r<*>/u-aTos, Phaedo, 67 d).
Hato describes it in mystical language as " the practice of
dying."
Appetite (e7r iQuiuia), which is lawless and blind, can be
conquered only by setting against it the spirited passion
which, of its own impulse, makes for the good. Courage thus
completes the work of temperance ; one is the struggle against
pain, while the other consists in resisting the soft seductions
of pleasure. Both are essential elements of wisdom. By
delivering the soul from the fetters of desire which bind her
to the body, these virtues restore her to herself, and to that
contemplation of true Being, of the Good, which for Plato, as
for Aristotle, is the supreme end of moral life. Wisdom is
not only first among the virtues, it is also the principle of
them all.
"Then all but the philosojohers are courageous from fear, and because
they are afraid ; and yet that a man should be courageous from fear, and
because he is a coward, is surely a strange thing. . . . And are not tin-
temperate exactly in the same case? They are temperate because tiny
are intemperate, which might seem to be a contradiction, but is neverthe-
less the sort of thing that happens with this slavish temperance. For
there are pleasures which they are afraid of losing, and in their desire to
keep them they abstain from some pleasures because they are overcome
by others. . . . Yet the exchange of <ne fear or pleasure or pain for
another fear or pleasure or pain, and of the greater for the less, as if they
were coins, is not the exchange of virtue. <> my dear Simmias, is there
not one true coin for which all things ought to exchange ? and that is
wisdom; and only in exchange for this, and in company with this, is
anything truly bought or sold, whether courage or temperance or justice.
And is not all true virtue the companion of wisdom, no matter what t
or pleasures, or other similar goods or evils mayor may not iittend hei
But the virtue which is made up of these goods, when they are severed
from wisdom and exchanged with one another, is a shadow of virtue only,
nor is there any freedom or health or truth in her " (Phtudo, 68 "').
12 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Thus the virtues owe their value to the principle of wisdom
from which they flow. Plato's contemptuous disparagement
of interested virtue seems to offer an anticipatory criticism of
Epicureanism.
The different virtues, therefore, are all inspired by the same
spirit of wisdom, and all participate in the same idea of the
Good. Besides their unity of origin, their end is also one,
which they pursue in common, and of which their harmonious
activity is the realization. For although each of these virtues
has an absolute value, and is an end in itself, the particular-
ends, named Courage, Temperance, Wisdom, have nevertheless
their place by relation to a still higher end, which is Justice.
By Justice is meant, in Platonic language, an internal virtue,
the peace or harmony established in the soul by the rule of
reason.
The virtues, therefore, are not isolated, but one and whole.
We have already seen that courage and temperance are sisters,
being both the daughters of wisdom ; these sisters, we may add,
go hand in hand. Plato shows clearly the unity of the moral
life, when he makes the law that governs the intellect extend to
the will, and when he further introduces a dialectic of the pas-
sions, and a hierarchy of the virtues. In one sense, temperance
and courage are merely relative virtues, for, in purifying the soul
from passion, they only prepare it for wisdom, which alone has
absolute value. Here Plato seems almost to draw the same
distinction between the practical and the contemplative life, as
that made later by Aristotle. But according to Plato these
two lives are in reality only one. While it ascends from one
degree to another, virtue at the same time preserves the unity
of a movement that is continuous ; under all the variety of
names, it is always the same impulse which carries us towards
the Good.
Transition from justice as the virtue of an individual, to
justice considered as a social virtue, is suggested by the nature
of things. The law which rules the mutual relation of the
faculties of the snuljf^n regulates the relations of men to one
another and of citizens within the state. Reason, which, in
the state, is represented by its rulers, controls the passions and
the lower appetites, which are in turn represented, the former
by the soldiers, the latter by the artizans and labourers.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 13
Each class, having in the state its special function, has also its
special virtue, and so Plato, speaking of the state as he would
of the citizen, calls it wise, courageous, temperate, and just
(Rep. IV, Chap. VI). Politics with him were thus merely
Ethics on a larger scale.
The social virtues, on the other hand, depend on individual
morality : in order to live in peace and harmony with his
fellows, the individual has only to make harmony rule in his
own soul. Virtue is in no sense merely a personal thing : its
object is the Good in itself. To attain virtue is, therefore, not
merely to pursue one's private perfection, or a good that is
relative to one's particular nature, as Aristotle says afterwards
(oiiceiov epyov) ; it is to make the universal end one's own end,
and thus to join in the harmonious unity of rational wills.
The whole theory of special virtues rests upon the conception
of an absolute Good. It is because the Good has an absolute
value, that we must always practise it, at whatever cost to our
love of ourselves, or our hatred of others. Justice consists,
not as the old maxims said, in doing good to one's friends,
and evil to one's enemies, but in doing good to all men with-
out distinction. " Injustice is always an evil " (Onto, 49 a)
Thus Plato enjoins the forgiveness of injuries. His precepts
are in the very terms of Christian charity; but they were not
inspired by the same spirit, for he puts them forward as a
metaphysical deduction, as the sublime result of intellectual
insight, rather than of an impulse of the heart.
The Supreme Good and its Constituents; Pleasurt and Know-
ledge; Virtue and Happiness ; Expiation.
With Plato, as with all the ancients, the object of Ethics
was the determination and explication of the nature of the
Supreme Good, or " Summum Bonum" that is to Bay of the
good that is self-sufficient (avrdpiceia). " Is the good sufficient ' "
asks * Socrates, in the Philebus (20). "Yes, certainly," says
Protarchus, "and in a degree surpassing all other things."
Among the things thai men eall -n^^ which is it that
fulfils the condition of supreme good '. Is it pleasure ' No,
for pleasure derives its value, not from itself, hut from its
union with mind. Pleasure would be nothing did we nol
perceive it when it arises, recall it in thought after it has
14 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
disappeared and anticipate it before it comes. Pleasure has
value, only because it is given with consciousness, with memory
and reflection, in a word with mind. Moreover, we make a
distinction between pleasures that are real and pleasures that are
false, and as the mind is the only judge of truth, pleasure from
this point of view also, depends on knowledge. Thus pleasure
is indeed a good, but a relative, a subordinate good, in no way
deserving of the title of Supreme Good (Philebus, 21 b ct pass.).
Is knowledge, then, the Good, seeing that to it pleasure owes
its worth ?
" I want to know," asks Socrates, " whether any one of us would
consent to live, having wisdom and mind and knowledge and memory
of all things, but having no sense of pleasure or pain, and wholly
unaffected by these and the like feelings'?" (Ibid. 21 d).
This simple question is substantially the same as that which
is presented in dramatic form in the poem of Faust, and the
answer given by Plato harmonizes also with Goethe's con-
ception. Wisdom is not the good, and the life of thought is
not happiness. Still, as pleasure and knowledge are the only
goods we know, the supreme good, if it exists, must be in
them ; and as it cannot be in either of them, taken separately,
it follows that it must be in the union of both. The Good
therefore is a mixture ; it is fed from two sources. " And
here are two fountains which are flowing at our side ; one,
which is pleasure, may be likened to a fountain of honey : the
other, wisdom, a sober draught in which no wine mingles, is of
water, unpleasant but healthful" (Ibid. 61c).
In the mixture of which the Good is composed all the
sciences are included, for they are all good, though in different
-degrees ; between pleasures, on the other hand, a choice has to
be made, for only the pleasures that are true and pure can
enter into the composition of the Good. Thus Plato does not
.admit that simplification of ethics by which the Supreme Good
is reduced to a single principle, whether this principle be
contemplation, as with Aristotle, or common pleasure, as with
the Cyrenaics. For Plato, the Supreme Good is a mixture in
proper proportions of pleasure and wisdom.
The notion expressed by the ancients in the term Supreme
Good is also complex in another sense, and made up of elements
which were later considered to be heterogeneous, namely, Virtue
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 15
and Happiness. What, then, is virtue ? What is happiness ?
And how was their relation to one another conceived by Plato ?
Virtue, as the Pythagoreans had already said, is " the being
made like unto God " (o/uolooo-i? Oew) ; and God is the One, or
the Good, in contrast to matter, which is the principle of the
many, or the evil. To be like unto God is to escape from the
material or sensible world, which is of necessity the abode of
evil, and to take flight towards the world of Ideas ( Theaetetus,
176 a). In the less obscure language of psychology, this
metaphysical definition means that virtue, that flight towards
the region of things eternal ((pvy>i), is detachment from sense
and the cultivation of reason (Phaedo). Moreover, as God is
the One, virtue, or imitation of God is a kind of participation
in the divine Unity. No doubt, man, inasmuch as he consists
of a body composed of many elements and of a soul possessed
of many faculties, cannot become one ; but, in so far as he
keeps his body subject to his soul, and the faculties of his soul
subject to his reason, he realizes such unity as his nature
admits of, a unity,- that is, made up of divers elements, and
which manifests itself in the midst of multiplicity. And thus
Plato could say, following another Pythagorean maxim, " Virtue
is a harmony, and the wise man is a musician."
Virtue brings happiness in its train (Pep. I, 354 a), because
virtue is the natural good of the soul. The just man is
always happy. No doubt he is exposed to the blows of
fortune he may be shamefully treated by his friends ; he
may, as the victim of a blind hatred or of a base betrayal, be
dragged to prison and scourged; he may find an cud to his
sufferings in death at the stake; but "stripped of everthing
except Justice," he still possesses true happiness (Rep. 362 a).
For it is when virtue is subjected to humiliating insults that
she emerges, not only worthy of all veneration, but triumphant.
And as the just man is happy, even on the cross, so the
tyrant is miserable and hateful, even on his throne or in the
midst of delights.
Prom the connection established by Plato between virtue
and the Happy Life, there follows, as a consequence, a
doctrine which appears to ns start lieu, and not at all in
harmony with the Greek spirit: the rehabilitation, and, as it.
were, the vindication of pain.
16 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Our moral offences cannot of themselves he blotted out.
Only by suffering punishment can we atone for them. And from
this idea that expiation is necessary, follows that of suffering
as justified. Pain is not an evil ; the greatest of all evils, on the
contrary, would be not to suffer the punishment our offences
deserve ; and hence, far from fearing punishment, we should
desire it and even seek it. If we have a friend who is guilty
of a crime, our love for him commands us to drag him by
force before the tribunal, to denounce him before the Judge, to
demand and obtain his condemnation. We must see that he
pays the penalty of his crime, and that in this way he is
reconciled to the Good. And with still more reason we
should exercise the utmost severity in dealing with ourselves.
"And if lie, or any one about whom he cares, does wrong, he ought of
his own account to go where he will be immediately punished ; he will
run to the judge as he would to the physician. . '. . He should even
force himself and others not to shrink, but with closed eyes, like
brave men, to let the physician operate with knife or searing iron, not
regarding the pain, in the hope of attaining the good and the honourable.
Let him who has done things worthy of stripes allow himself to be
scourged, if of bonds to be bound, if of a fine to be fined, if of exile to be
exiled, if of death to die, himself being the first to accuse himself and his
own relations, and using rhetoric to this end, that his and their unjust
actions may be made manifest, and that they themselves may be delivered
from injustice, which is the greatest evil. Then, Polus, rhetoric would
indeed be useful " (Goi-gias, 480).
How did so novel a theory suggest itself to Plato ? It
would seem that the philosopher, in giving to it an ethical
meaning, had purified and refined the idea of expiation which
plays so important a part in Greek mythology {e.g. the legends
of Oedipus, Orestes, Nemesis), and that out of a gross supersti-
tion he had brought forth the Christian doctrine of expiation
by suffering.
When he represented the relation of virtue and happi-
ness as necessary, Plato did not mean that this relation
is to be established some day in another life. He held that
it must always be, and that it therefore exists actually, at the
present moment. Moreover, even if the good man were to re-
gard faith in a future life as only a "splendid possibility" (kclXo?
kivSwos) he would still, like Socrates, face death in a calm, serene
spirit, without murmuring against either justice or the gods.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 17
Aristotle ; The Moral Law ; Virtue and Happiness ; The
Virtues ; Justice and Friendship ; The Contemplative Life.
" Indubitably, Plato the Athenian was a true Greek, but
added to, and mixed with the national qualities so conspicuous
in him, there was, one might almost say, something Christian in
his manner of thinking and speaking. Aristotle, on the other
hand, represents with singular exactness the genius of ancient
Greece. No other moralist has given us an ideal picture,
drawn from life, in which what is most profound and most
enduring in the Greek mind is so happily expressed " (Olle-
Laprune, Morale d'Aristote, pp. 67-69). The idea of moderation,
of harmonious activity, of happiness through reason (Kara rov
opQov \6yov), of fitness, and of beauty (to koXop), prevail
throughout all Aristotle's speculations on the moral life.
Practical reason (dypovtja-ig) differs from wisdom (<ro<pia).
Ethical questions do not admit of mathematical exact-
ness. We must not expect equal accuracy in all branches
of knowledge, to yap aKpi(3e? ov% 6/u.olws ev diraa-i toU \6yoi$
iriQiT7]Tov (1094, B. 12), but only to the extent the subject
studied admits of : 7re7raievjaei/ou yap <ttiv e7r\ toctovtou
TUKpipeg eirL^Telv Ka6' eKUCTTOv yevos id)' ocrou rj too 7rpay/ut.aT0$
(pvcris 7riSe^eTai" (24). In short, what Aristotle says con-f
cerning equity as contrasted with justice, would apply to thei
whole of his Ethics. The rule of what is indeterminate must
itself be indeterminate, rod yap aoplarov aopicrro? Kal 6 kuvwv ;
ia-nu (Nic. Ethics, Bk. V, Ch. 10).
According to Aristotle, experience of life and practice in doing good
actions produce in the soul as it were an eye which is able at first sight to
perceive and discern the true principles by which our conduct should be
governed, the good or evil in any case. We should follow these intuitions
of our inner life with the same confidence as the principles of science.
" And on this account we ought to pay the same respect to the undem<>n-
strated assertions and opinions of persons of age and experience and
prudence, as to their demonstrations" {Nic. Ethics, Bk. VI, Chap. 11).
Aristotle constantly repeats that the virtuous man is tin-
rule and measure of the Good (o o-7roi/(Wo? Kautov k<u /uerpov).
And this rule is universal as well as particular, for in the case
of the virtuous man it is not opinion that decides, but right
reason realized and living in him. Being truly man, hr is
II. B
18 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
pleased with what ought to please him, he distinguishes
clearly the good from the evil, he is the rule and measure of
things.
Experience and practical reason show us that the end of
man, his supreme good, is happiness (evSai/movia). But what is
happiness ? Pleasure completes an action, is added to it, as
" to youth its bloom." The being which acts according to its
nature finds pleasure in the very consciousness of its own per-
fection, and when of all the actions of which its nature renders
it capable, that being accomplishes the highest and the most
essential to that nature, then it tastes of the purest and most
intense joy (apicrrov yap kcu jjSio-rov). Now virtue for any
being consists in performing excellently its special function,
iratra apeT)'/ ov av f) apeTi], to epyov avTod ev cnroolocoo-iv (Nic.
Eth. II, 6), the virtue of man consists in exercising most fully
the highest functions of man.
Thus happiness is life according to virtue, and according
to the most perfect virtue. Nature actual and ideal, the
End and the Good, Virtue and Happiness, these terms all
imply and explain each other. It is in this sense that
happiness is the principle of all human action (to apia-Tov),
the end for whose sake everything else is willed, and which is
itself willed for its own sake only, to ku6' civto alpeTov (1199
a 33). So far everything is clear. Happiness conies from per-
fection and is identical with virtue. But Aristotle, taking into
account the conditions of human life, affirms that external
goods (to. e/cTo? ayaOa) are necessary to happiness. The
virtuous man may despise ordinary misfortunes, which are to
him only an opportunity for displaying his courage, but mis-
fortunes such as those of Priam, without making him absolutely
miserable (aOXios), still prevent him from being quite happy
(/uLaicdpio?). To be complete, happiness requires that the favour
of the gods be added to merit. In order that there may be
nothing more that he could desire, a man must taste of the joys
of friendship, and of family affection ; he must have political
power, wealth, high birth, beauty ; in short he must lack none
of those useful accessories which are the ornament of life.
This does not mean that we cannot be happy without all
these advantages. The pursuit of happiness entails, on the
contrary, many sacrifices to which reason consents ; but so long
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES lit
as those conditions of which fortune disposes remain unfulfilled,
there is still something wanting.
If our happiness depends in part on fortune, it would seem
that virtue, which is a habit whose principle is in the will,
ought to be more independent and more clearly defined. But
virtue itself is no more than a means of attaining happiness,
and therefore it has no intrinsic, or unconditional value. It
is, moreover, relative to the agent, and varies with the indi-
vidual. This follows from its very definition ; it consists in
" finding pleasure and pain in the right objects " (Nic. Eth. II,
3). It is the habit of behaving, with regard to the passions, in
such a manner as to avoid all excess, and always to observe
the due mean (to fxecrov) : courage, for instance, consists in
keeping at an equal distance from the two extremes of
cowardice and temerity. " And the mean with which we are
here concerned varies in different individuals. If ten pounds
of food is too much for a given man to eat, and two pounds too
little, it does not follow that the trainer will order him six
pounds, for that also may be too much for the man in question
or too little ; too little for Milo, too much for the beginner "
{Nic. Ethics, II, 6). Moral obligations are not the same for
every one. " Temperance (o-axppoo-uvi]) is not the same for
woman as for man " (Polit. Ill, 4).
But does not virtue, once it is determined by the particular
nature of the agent, at least depend exclusively on the will of
the latter ? One might be inclined to think so, remembering
that the peculiar and essential characteristic of virtue is thai
it involves free choice, intention or preference (Trpoa'cpe<ri<;).
But while he asserts that the honour or merit of virtue belongs
to the will, Aristotle is far from holding that volition alone
is of consequence, and that the action is accessory or unimpor-
tant. According to Aristotle, the whole of morality consists
in willing to observe in all things the due mean, and in actually
observing it. We see that in this way Aristotle leaves man at
the mercy of external circumstances. "To beliberaJ one must
have something to give, to be just one must be able to requite
those who have done us good, etc."
Nor is this all : virtue can only develop in the state. It
is a law of nature that man only becomes virtuous amongsl
his fellows. To sum up : virtue, which, by definition, is relative
20 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
and contingent, since it depends on the nature of the individual,
is further subject to two kinds of conditions : the accidental
conditions of fortune, and the better denned and less unstable
conditions of the state.
It is unnecessary to examine in detail the virtues that are
enumerated and described in the Nicomachcan Ethics. But
among those which Aristotle honours with an analysis we must
note certain exceptional virtues which are altogether Greek and
aristocratic, such as Liberality (Nic. Eth. IV, 1) and Magnifi-
cence {Ibid. IV, 2) which are reserved for the wealthy ; for
they consist, the one in making good use of money in general,
the other in the right use of a large fortune. Magnanimity is
a still more exclusive virtue, for, besides high birth, it implies
a great soul, a cultivated mind, superior talents, in a word,
everything that would justify the highest ambition.
The fact that Aristotle makes a virtue of political capacity
and of the right use of wealth, shows sufficiently the character
of his ethics. The ideal which he proposes is not an abstract
ideal, or one that appears in violent contrast with the customs
of his time. It is an ideal, born, so to speak, of what was
actual, in harmony with Greek life and adapted to its form of
government and classes of society. The virtues of which
he makes the most exhaustive study are accordingly the virtues
of social life : justice and friendship.
The beauty of justice he extols in the following words :
" Neither evening nor morning star is so lovely " (Nic. Ethics,
V, 1). He adds that, according to the poet Theognis, justice
includes all the other virtues, for it is in truth " a good to
another," aWorpiov ayaOov. Everything that tends to pro-
duce prosperity in civil life, or to increase it, belongs to justice;
and since everything that concerns morality is part of the
social order, that which virtue requires is also ordered by the
law. Between the political and the moral life there is not
\ only interdependence, but a perfect analogy.
But Aristotle also gives the name of justice (Ibid. V, 2, 3) to
a special virtue, which consists in observing equality, either in
the distribution of honours, wealth, etc., or in exchange, in social
transactions (selling, buying, lending, salaries, etc.), and the
repression of legal offences and crimes. In this second case, all
that justice demands is that the things exchanged be strictly
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 21
equal in value, that the punishment be exactly proportioned
to the wrong. But in the former case justice is not so easily
satisfied ; it demands that the merit of persons be taken into
account, as well as the value of things. Aristotle states in
mathematical terms the different rules belonging to these two
kinds of justice. Distributive justice has for its symbol Geome-
trical proportion, while the rule of exchange and of penalties
is represented by Arithmetical proportion.
Aristotle pays particular attention to political virtue, and
divides it into legal justice, which is conventional and variable,
and natural justice, which depends neither on the decrees nor on
the opinions of men, but has the characteristic of being
universal and immutable. On this important distinction is
based the theory of equity, which consists in appealing to
natural law against the severities and injustices of conventional
law.
"Though what is equitable (to eTrieiKes) is just, it is not identical with,
but a correction of that which is just according to law, kiravopdoyfia
vofjLLfiov SiKatov. The reason of this is, that every law is laid down in
general terms . . . and the essence of what is equitable is that it is an
amendment of the law, in those points where it fails through the generality
of its language " (Nic. Eth. V, 10).
Aristotle compares equity to the Lesbian leaden rule, which,
following the outline of the stone, gives a more exact measure
than the iron rule, which is the symbol of mere legal justice.
By means of justice good order is established in the State,
but friendship brings about the true union of the citizens.
Friendship may be extended to all men, and it then becomes
philanthropy ((piXavOpooTrla). Thus understood, it involves
justice and surpasses it.
" Friendship is the bond that holds States together. ... If citizens be
friends, they have no need of justice, but though they be just, they need
friendship or love also ; indeed, the completes! realization of justice seems
to be the realization of friendship or love also" (twi- Sikulwv to p'A^th
</uAiKoy emu SoKti) (Nic. Ethics, VIII, 1).
Nowhere does Aristotle's identification of politics and ethics,
of social and private virtue, appear more clearly than in his
theory of friendship. He upholds, for example, in friendship,
the rules of an uncompromising justice, in which the virtues oi
both parties are strictly taken into account. Of two friends
22 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
the better man should be loved more than he loves. The
rights of moral superiority must be maintained. True friend-
ship has its origin neither in pleasure nor in interest, but
in virtue. Among men we love those who are good, and we
love them because of their goodness. Consequently the only
true friends are good men, who become united with the sole
object of becoming better, and hence more lovable. In fact, in
friendship as in virtue disinterestedness is the essential feature.
Aristotle speaks with contempt of those friendships which are
made and unmade with a view to advantage. Such are the
friendships formed by politicians and the aged. The kind of
friendship he holds up as a model, is that of a benefactor or a
mother's love. He would have us love our friend for his own
sake, and love him like ourselves (erepos yap avro? 6 chiXos
ecrri, JVic. Ethics, IX, 9). In short, he makes the perfection of
friendship consist in loving rather than in being loved (oWe* S'
>} (piXia ev rco (ptXetv fxaXXov /; ev to (piXeiuOai, Nic. Ethics,
VIII, 8).
The object of practical life is not the absolute good, but a
particular or determinate good {oucelov epyov 7rpaKrov ayaOov),
the good that is conformable to the nature of man ; but the life
of contemplation gives us that perfect happiness, which tran-
scends our sensible nature, and belongs to God alone. In
contrast with the intellectual virtues, the moral and political
virtues fade into insignificance, for their worth is not in them-
selves; they are only the auxiliaries of wisdom. By subjecting
the soul to reason, they prepare the way for the divine life.
" As the steward of a great house looks after everything in it, orders
everything, so that the management of domestic affairs may not prevent
the master from attending to his duties as a citizen ; so does prudence, by
restraining and controlling the passions, secure for wisdom the leisure she
requires in order to perform her own functions" {Magna Moralta, 1,
XXXV, 11986 12).
Moreover, wisdom, once it is born in us, is self-sufficient.
The wise man need not go outside himself to seek happiness.
He finds it in his own contemplation ; and if political life still
has any attraction for him, it is solely because he may be able
to make others share in his thoughts. He need not even
practise the moral virtues any longer. He has only to develop
within himself eternal and divine reason.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 23
" Nevertheless, instead of listening to those who advise us, as men and
mortals, not to lift our thoughts above what is human and mortal, we
ought rather, as far as possible, to put off our mortality " : cj>' oa-ov eVSeY^Tcu
d9ava.Tiei\' (jYic. Ethics, X, 7).
But how can we enter into the divine life ? God is blessed
in Himself and in virtue of His nature. He is at once pure
intelligence and pure actuality ; He is eternal thought, which
finds its eternal object in itself. Our nature does not itself
provide all that is necessary for contemplation (ov yap
avrapKrjs f] (pvcri? wpos to Qewpelv). As human beings,
we need external goods (Nic. Eth. X, 8). Our passions
are an obstacle to perfect happiness, which lies in in-
telligence alone. We have then first to fight against our
sensible nature ; and for this we employ the moral virtues.
But as it is by reason that we are distinguished from all other
beings, so also in reason is found that happiness which is truly
human, although modelled on the divine felicity.
"Happiness, then, extends just as far as contemplation, and the more
contemplation, the more happiness is there in a life not accidentally, but
as a necessary accompaniment of contemplation ; for- contemplation is
precious in itself" (Ibid.).
But could Aristotle represent the moral end, now as human
happiness, and now as divine blessedness ? Could he, without
contradiction, declare, on the one hand, that the virtuous man
is the measure of virtue, and, on the other, that virtue consists
in making one's self immortal ? Certainly he could, for to
him prudence ((ppovqcris) already implies reason, moral life
being thus the promise and manifestation of the intellectual
or divine life (o Kara tov vovv (S'ios). It is true that there is
in each of us a beast and a god, but the aspirations of
the beast tend to nothing less than oneness witli the thoughts
of God. Prudence is not different in nature from reason
(VotA 1 ). Man possesses prudence naturally, he advances
willingly towards reason, and, leaving his animal nature, li'
ascends to God. The entrance into immortality is the glorious
goal of his moral life. From action to contemplation there
is no abrupt transition, but a gradual ascent, a continuous
aspiration. And so without inconsistency the practical ami
the speculative life may bo said to become one.
24 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Character of Post-Aristotelian Ethics : Individualism.
Post-Aristotelian philosophy is characterized by the sub-
servience of every branch of investigation to ethical ends.
Human thought seems, at the time of Zeno and Epicurus, to
free itself from metaphysical speculation, just as at the time of
Socrates it had lost all interest in hypotheses as to the origin
of the material world.
At the same time, the revolution that had already taken
place in the practical sphere being transferred into the world
of thought, man's individual life was now conceived as having
an intrinsic value, and consequently a destiny and an aim
other than the performance of his functions in the state.
While Plato could find consolation for the unhappiness of the
citizens in the thought that the state is happy, while Aristotle
makes so little distinction between political and moral life
that he regards happiness, if not virtue itself, as the special
privilege of the free, Epicurus, like Zeno, places the end of
man in man himself, frees him morally from his obligations
to the state, and finds a use for his life even when the
political career is closed to him. Thus, from the advent of
Epicureanism and of Stoicism, there dates a new period in
philosophy, that in which the individualistic conception is
introduced into ethics.
The Precursors of Epicurus : the Cyrenaics.
But, as it is in the nature of ethical doctrines not to belong
to any exact date, and often to be in advance of the historical
facts with which we connect them, there is nothing surprising
in the fact that an immediate follower of Socrates, Aristippus
of Cyrene, should be the forerunner of Epicurus. Aristippus
starts from the Socratic principle that happiness is the end of
man. He makes happiness consist in pleasure, and in any
kind of pleasure, provided it is present, and hence felt ; but he
does not adhere to this gross conception, which would be the
negation of all morality. He adds, as corrective, this important
rule, that in the midst of pleasure man should preserve in-
ternal freedom, maintain possession of himself. Thus he says
of himself, " I possess Lais and am not possessed by her," e^co
/cat. ovk 'iyo/j-ai. Theodoras the Atheist, a disciple of Aristippus,
finds this internal liberty of which Aristippus speaks, in in-
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 25
dependence and intellectual boldness. In ethics, as well as in
religion, he professed opinions which would justify his double
name of aOeos and Opa&vraTos (D.L. II. 1 1 6). Taking the con-
sequences of an action as the measure of its worth, he held
that robbery, sacrilege, adultery could, in certain cases, be
permitted ; thus he did not shrink from the most extreme
consequences of Hedonism.
A more surprising consequence of the development of this
same doctrine is the pessimism of one of the last of the
Cyrenaics, Hegesias (300 B.C.), surnamed "the advocate of death"
(ireicnQdvaTos). If pleasure is a fleeting thing that cannot
be seized, how can we set it up as an end ? How are w r e to
avoid the disgust and satiety that we find in it ? We make
pleasure the object of life, but who can fail to see that this
object will never be attained ? The inference is that we must
renounce life, which is the source of every kind of illusion.
Strange result of a philosophy of pleasure !
Epicurus : Definition of Pleasure ; Pleasures of the Mind ;
Theory of the Desires ; Virtue.
Epicurus sought to free man from the yoke of passion, and
the tyranny of the gods, and to give him " that impenetrable
rampart of liberty of heart which nothing can force " (Fenelon).
In order to take away the government of the world from the
gods, a materialistic system of physics was needed, and this
physical system involved an empirical logic. Thus the whole
Epicurean philosophy is constructed with a view to their
ethics, for which it prepares the way, and which completes it.
By the doctrine of Atomism, man is delivered from the
chimeras of superstition the fear of death, the fear of hell,
the fear of the gods. This is the threefold chain broken 1>\
the Epicurean physics. The gratitude of the disciples of
Epicurus (for they almost adored him as a redeemer), their
cult of the master's memory (charms, rites, etc.), show with
how strange an oppression the ancient superstition had weighed
upon them (see Martha, The poem of Lucretius).
When the mind has been purified by the principles >!'
physics, the initiation into the deepest mysteries of Epicurean
ethics may commence. The gods are so far away that, it is
only seldom that some simulacrum, escaping from their glorious
26 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
bodies, traverses space, and reveals to us their existence.
Nature, left to herself by the gods, is all that man has to
deal with. What then in nature is the supreme good which he
should aim at ? Like Aristippus, Epicurus replies, " Pleasure."
For has not the canonic proved that the affections (to. iraOrj),
the impressions, that is, of pleasure or pain, are the only means
we have of distinguishing good from evil, of knowing what
is to be desired and feared, to be sought and avoided ?
In the second place, observation shows that all animals,
from the moment of their birth, seek pleasure and avoid pain.
This, then, is the first principle of Epicurean ethics : Avoid pain ;
seek pleasure. The next question is, What is pleasure ? We
have to distinguish two kinds of pleasure ; the first, passive
pleasure, is calm and enduring ; the other, active pleasure, is
lively, rapid, fleeting. The first is the freedom from all pain,
all anxiety ; the second is excited in us by a titillation of the
senses, and invites us to satisfy the needs of the body. What
it requires is the tranquil sense of enjoyment that results
from the performance of all one's functions. It is the state of
comfortable existence which good health produces. Not to
suffer in body, to be untroubled in mind, these are the two
conditions of happiness. The pleasures of the body, which
are always mixed with uneasiness and feverishness, only
remove want, and prepare the way for the true pleasure,
which consists in the peaceful slumbering of all pain and
of all passion.
The pleasures of the soul are a thousand times more precious
than those of the body, for the body is only affected by the
present impression, but the mind enjoys the present, the past,
and the future. We must not, however, mistake the sense of
this teaching. As anticipation (TrpoXtj^is) implies the remem-
brance of past sensations, the pleasure of the mmd is in reality
the renewal in memory of sensible pleasures accompanied by
the hope that they will be experienced again.
" ' For I do not know what I can consider good,' Epicurus said, ' if I
put out of sight the pleasures of eating and drinking, of hearing and
seeing, and of love'" (D.L. x, 6). "Metrodorus, the sage colleague of
Epicurus, blamed his brother Timocrates because he would not allow
that everything which had any reference to a happy life was to be
measured by the belly" (Cic. Be Natura Deorum, I, 40, 113).
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 27
The role of the mind is to anticipate the pleasure that is
to come and to preserve past pleasure. The mind soars
above present, actual pain, and remains in a contented
state, knowing that the good moments of life are more
numerous than the bad, and remembering all the pleasure it
has experienced, or may possibly experience. In this way it
can escape from the present, and enjoy life as a whole, and
this is an enjoyment that cannot be taken from us. Epicurus
also advises us not to think of future evil. An evil does not
become less by being thought on, and it is a foolish {stulta)
meditation that dwells on a future evil which may never come
to pass. " Calamitosus est animus futuri anxius et ante miserias
miser " (apud Sen.).
There is an analogy here between the doctrines of Epicurus
and those of Zeno. Zeno does not find the good in particular
acts, but in the harmony of the whole life. Similarly, for
Epicurus, bodily enjoyments are only the material of the good,
which itself consists in reflection upon pleasures. The reflec-
tion of Epicurus, like the will of the Stoic, overcame the
limitations of time. By staying itself on the memory and on the
hope of a happier state, it is able to offer adequate resistance
to the present evil. The analogy is, however, not complete,
for with the Stoics the object of the will is duty, while with the
Epicureans it is pleasure.
But it is not enough to know that true happiness consists
in freedom from pain and in peace of mind. "We must seek
and find the means of realizing this ideal. The swerving
of the atoms becomes free will in man, and it depends on
ourselves alone whether our lives are shaped after the model
of those of the gods, and imitate the serenity of their
blessed existence. " Better be still in the trammels of the
common superstitions concerning the gods, than bound by the
fatalism of physicists. One might still hope to move the gods
to pity, but necessity is inexorable." In order to attain this
wisdom which is so precious, we must discover exactly what it
is that nature demands, which are the desires the satisfaction
of which is a law of nature ratified by pain. To this question
Epicurus replies by his theory of the desires.
There are, in the first place, desires that are natural and
necessary. These are easily satisfied. " Are not bread and
28 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
water an excellent repast when one is hungry and thirsty ? "
But we have to remember that carnal pleasure is merely a
means to an end, that it disappears as soon as the pain caused
by the want has ceased, that to attempt to prolong it is a
folly which would be certain to result in pain : and we should
recognize the benevolence of nature in that she demands so
little. Then there are desires that are natural but not
necessary : the instinct of reproduction, the love of parents
for their children. These desires are indeed natural, since all
animals share them, but the wise man has no difficulty in
freeing himself from them. Marriage and paternity bring so
many cares that it is more prudent to avoid them. Lastly,
natural appetites, when they become depraved, give rise to
superfluous desires. We long for wealth, power, rank, fame,
and we aspire to reform men and to rule the state ; as if true
riches were not the suppression of cupidity, and as if man
had not enough to do in governing himself.
" I never had any ambition to please the people, for the things that
I am concerned to know, they dislike ; and what they like, I know not "
{pup. Sen. Ep. XXIX, 10).
Since the pursuit of pleasure is the supreme law, virtue has,
in itself, no worth. The good and the beautiful are nothing
without the useful and the agreeable. Apart from pleasure all
the virtues taken together are not worth a brass counter (Plut.
Adv. Col. Ch. 30).
Nevertheless, just as the art of medicine is practised, not for
its own sake, but for the good health which it procures, so we
must practise virtue not for itself, but because of the happiness
which it alone can insure to us. It is prudence that teaches
us to discern the true and the false goods, while temperance
makes us resist the assaults of apparent pleasures, and attain
the supreme delight. And if this virtue is good, it is not
because it purifies the mind, but because it secures for us
more lasting joys. It is the same with courage, which
makes us bear present pain and procures more precious goods
in the future ; and with justice, which is a refined form of
egoism, a mere convention, by which we agree not to attack
our fellow creatures, in order thereby to avoid violence on
their part. There is nothing mysterious in the legal right :
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 29
it is founded on egoistic calculation, and if it has a sacred
character it is on account of its utility. The moment a law-
loses its utility it loses its title to respect, in fact it ceases to
exist.
The desire for absolute calm, for repose and silence, lassitude
and disgust with every kind of pleasure, are the prevailing
note in the Epicurean philosophy. Never was an ethical
system less voluptuous and more melancholy than this ascetic
sensualism. Nihil admirari, not to be interested in, or drawn
to anything, to retire altogether into one's self, to play as
small a part in life as possible, this is true wisdom, this is
the only road to happiness. The ideal would even seem to be
to reduce one's whole being, one's whole life, into a point in
space and time, so as to leave to pain no hold or purchase.
Antecedents of Stoicism. The Cynics ; Gospel of toil (ttovos).
Pyrrho ; Absolute Indifference.
The Cynic school is a link between the moral doctrine of
Socrates and that of Zeno. Antisthenes was a disciple of
Socrates, Crates the Cynic was to be the master of Zeno. But
Antisthenes was not a faithful disciple, for he simplified and
impoverished the doctrines of Socrates. He separated Ethics
from Metaphysics, virtue- from knowledge ; the good, the sole
object of his philosophy, he regards as a matter of practice
and not of speculation or fine words. Virtue, with the Cynics,
no longer depends on the intellect, but on the will ; it is moral
strength, or self-control, and thus it lies in action, in victorious
contest. The Cynics offer, in opposition to the prejudices of
ancient Greece, the apologia of toil and labour. The model
they set up was Hercules, " the only Greek hero whose
exploits took the form of labours " (Michelet).
Thus Cynicism, which has become synonymous with ;ui
ethics of shamelessness, was in reality a form of asceticism, its
main principle being that pleasure is an evil, pain a good.
But there is, in the teaching of the Cynics, a startling
discordance between their lofty premisses and the frequently
low and coarse nature of their conclusions. To the Cynics
belongs the honour of having laid down the principles mil of
which Stoicism arose, but their interpretation of these
principles was often contrary to all morality. Tims they tlnvw
30 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
away the merit of the great conception that there is no good
but virtue and no evil but vice, and made good fame
(evSo^la) " the prating of fools " (Epictetus, Discourses, Bk. I,
Chap. 24). In the same way, in the contempt for wealth
which they professed, they did not confine themselves to
praising temperance, but made this contempt the apologia of
poverty and a life of mendicancy (see Xenophon's Sym-
2dosium).
While the cynic sage soars over the prejudices of the state
and regards the master and the slave as equals, he fails, owing
to another prejudice, to recognize the obligations of the citizen.
He flouts our first duty to our country, which is to defend it.
In derision Diogenes rolls his tub about in Corinth when it was
besieged. When asked which is his country, he replies, " I am
a citizen of the world " (/coo7>to7roA/T>7? eirfwy, Diog. L. VI, 63).
Finally, in his anxiety to be independent and self-sufficing
the Cynic takes care not to burden himself with a family, and
regards marriage as a state of slavery.
What made these paradoxical doctrines dangerous was that
they were presented in the living form of preaching and
example. Zeller calls the Cynics the " Capuchin friars of
antiquity." They were indeed mendicant preachers, and, en-
forcing their precepts by example, carried out all their own
maxims, not excepting the most coarse and shameless. They
said of themselves that they were like the choir masters who
sing a note loudly in order to give it to their pupils. Their
originality, lay in their method of teaching, and this also was
their title to fame. Diogenes, for instance, is still " one of the
most popular figures of ancient Greece " (Zeller).
Another strikingly original personality was that of Pyrrho,
who may be given a place between Antisthenes and Zeno. He
had followed the army of Alexander, and appears to have been
much struck by the Indian mystics. Pyrrho despised logic and
science only because he held them to be of no profit to the soul.
His scepticism was linked with his ethical views, being in his
opinion a means of attaining virtue. " To turn doubt into an
instrument of wisdom, of moderation, firmness, and happi-
ness, such was Pyrrho's novel conception, the leading idea
in his system" (Waddington, Etude sur Pyrrlwn). No doubt
if we were persuaded that there is for us in life neither
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 31
good nor evil we should indeed become " indifferent to all
things," and be spared the humiliation of superfluous desires
and miserable fears. But Pyrrho omitted to draw the
distinction made later by the Stoics between false goods
(wealth, honour, etc.), which they, too, treated with indifference,
and the only true good, which is virtue. " He used to say
that nothing was honourable or disgraceful, just or unjust.
And on the same principle, he asserted that there was no such
thing as downright truth ; but that men did everything in
consequence of custom and law. For that nothing was more
this thing than that " (D.L. ix).
Pyrrho not only renounced happiness, but did not even
believe in practical virtue. Indifference, which frees us from
all passion, all desire, he held to be wisdom itself. We see in
him a disillusioned man, a Greek turned ascetic.
The Stoics : Nature and Will ; tca6>]K:ov and KaTopOwfxa ;
Private Morality ; Wisdom ; Social Morality ; Natural Law ;
Cosmopolitanism ; Religious Morality ; Piety and Resignation.
The maxim which the Stoics adopted sums up the ethics of
Cynicism: "All that is natural is good " (Eavaisson), and
man has only to live in conformity with nature : Xrjv
o/uoXoyou/uei/w? t[] (bixrei. They distinguished, however, two
kinds of lives, one of which is according to nature, and the
other according to reason ; but these two are, and ought to be
interdependent and at one with each other. Life according
to nature is based, not as Epicurus taught, on pleasure, but on
a fundamental instinct from which pleasure takes its rise.
which is the love of a being for itself. In the Stoic physics,
animals, plants, and organic bodies, severally form a whole
composed of material parts, and bound together by a force
(owTacrt?, constitutio).
The acts by means of which a being maintains its con-
stitution are its functions (KaOi'/Kovra, officio), not virtues, but
duties. The function, or ku6>]koi> is merely an instinctive ad
which corresponds with the needs of a being, and thus Berv.es
the ends of Nature. In itself it is neither good nor bad : it im-
morally indifferent. To become a virtuous act (Kardfido^n) il
needs to be accomplished by reason of, and with a view t<> the
good. There is a whole class of things which arc nut. connected
32 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
with morality, and are hence indifferent (aSiacpopa, indifferentia).
Such are, for example, health and riches. Still, as they assist
in the conservation or in the development of a being, they are
useful things, advantages (commoda) if not actually goods, and
preferable (irporjy/jieva, potiora) to sickness and poverty, which
are themselves not evils but inconveniences (incommoda) not
preferable and to be avoided. To sum up : life according to
nature, which is merely the sensible life common to men and
animals, already admits of regularity and order, but the
performance of functions which is its law is spontaneous and
instinctive.
What then does this life according to nature need in order
to have moral value ? That it be ruled not merely by
instinct, but by free will and reason. Let the order amongst
the functions be desired, respected, and maintained by man
himself, and there will then be room for merit and virtue. It
is when human life, instead of being the product of a natural
spontaneity becomes " a work of art " (Ravaisson) that morality
appears. In other words, conduct that is merely in conformity
with nature or order, and is not regulated with a view to
order, cannot be called virtuous. No doubt virtue must have,
as Kant would say, a matter, and this it finds in the natural
functions ; but virtue proper lies in the form, that is, in the will
which, stretching over (toVo?) all our acts, constitutes their
unity and their harmony, as the divine force which extends
throughout all the elements constitutes the living unity of the
universe. The formalism that separates virtue and vice from
the actions in which they express themselves, was professed by
Ariston of Chios alone, and in this he breaks away from the
Stoic orthodoxy.
It is true that, with the Stoics, to live according to reason
was to live according to nature, but the principle of this life
in agreement with nature is choice, free will, not a blind and
natural instinct. Hence this school had a double tendency ;
sometimes it was with the will, with the harmony with one's
self, that they were concerned, and then indifference was
exaggerated to the point of Cynicism (e.g. in the paradoxes :
" All error was equally bad ; Who is not wise is mad, etc.").
At other times they approached the Peripatetic doctrine, as
in their theory of KaOr'jKovra and irpo^y^eva.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 33
And now, what was the practical morality of the Stoics ?
Let us first consider it as it appears in the individual.
The virtue that regulates our conduct as regards our
passions was by the Stoics called not temperance, but apathy
(a-n-adeia). For with them passion was not a natural appetite,
legitimate when restrained, but " a movement of the mind
which is irrational and contrary to nature." Aversa a recta
rationc, contra naturam animi commotio (Cic. Tmc. IV, 6).
Passion cannot have its source in nature, from which only
good can now ; it is therefore reason, but reason ill regulated
and corrupted. Being an act of reason, it is a kind of
judgment, a wrong opinion. It arises in us out of ignorance of
the good ; for if we were imbued with the thought that happi-
ness is in virtue alone, we should be insensible to wealth, to
honours, to all those false goods which ordinarily are the object
of our desires. In order to free ourselves from our passions
we have then only to correct our judgments. Let our mind
refuse its consent (crvyKardOecrti;, assensio) to those flattering
images which stimulate our lust, and the guilty desires will then
be suppressed. But are we to close our hearts to every kind
of feeling ? No, we must not understand the Stoics literally
when they speak of insensibility, cnrdOeia. Although they con-
demn pleasure, sadness, desire, and fear (laetitia, aegritudo,
libido, mctus) (Cic. Tusc. IV, 6), all of which disturb the mind,
still they allow that, by a fortunate compensation, joy, fore-
sight, and will (gaudium, cautio, voluntas), which do not
deprive the mind of peace and strength (constantia), may have
a place in the heart of the sage.
" Do you ask wherein to lay the foundation [of a happy life] ? Take no
pleasure in vanities. . . , You think that I deprive you of many plea-
sures when I take away from you all fortuitous things, and advise you
not to indulge even hope itself, the sweetest of all delights ; on the con-
trary, I assure you I would have you always enjoy pleasure, but 1 would
have it originate at home. . . . Other enjoyments affect not the mind,
they only smooth the brow . . . unless perhaps you think a man enjoya
pleasure because he laughs. . . . Believe me, true joy is a serious thing"
(Seneca, Epistle XXIII).
So understood, apathy includes all the private virtues.
Courage is a form of apathy, and may be defined as an undis-
turbed attitude in the face of danger, sickness, and death.
II. c
34 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
The freedom and independence which the Stoics claim for the
sage must belong to a mind that has become insensible to the
favour of fortune and of men. In short, to have reached
perfect apathy is also to possess wisdom, upon which it is
founded. The sole object of wisdom is not, however, to regu-
late our affections by showing us the goods on which exclusively
to fasten our desires. Wisdom is defined by the Stoics as the
knowledge of things human and divine, by which we are to
understand the knowledge of the universal order estab-
lished by divine reason, to which the moral law demands that
we conform our will. It is more especially the knowledge of
duty. All moral activity flows from wisdom ; and the Stoics
who did not separate action from knowledge, or will from
reason, naturally attribute every perfection to the sage. For
by wisdom they meant right reason joined to a good will, and
there is no virtue that does not belong to wisdom when thus
defined.
The Stoic sage being, like God, self-sufficing, ought, one
would think, to retire from society, since he regards it as one
of those indifferent things in which his virtue is not concerned.
But, on the other hand, his activity is extended by social
life, which consequently widens the sphere of his duties, and
affords him the opportunity of practising justice. Hence he
will feel the obligation to give a place in his soul to the
social virtues. The principle upon which society and justice rest
is law. Law has its source in nature, not in opinion or custom
(Cic. Be Leg. I, xiv). There is a supreme law which has existed
from all ages, before any legislative enactments were drawn up
in writing {Ibid. Ch. VI). And infractions of this law are
punished by the torments of remorse, symbolically represented
by the Furies of the myths {Ibid. Ch. XIV).
Natural law emanates from divine reason, or rather is
divine reason itself taking the form of a command. Chrysippus
defines it as " the highest reason implanted in nature
which prescribes those things which ought to be done
and forbids the contrary. Lex est ratio summa, insita in
natura, quae jubet ea quae facienda sunt, prohibetque contraria
(Be Leg. I, vi).
Eeligious morality is the consummation of social morality.
Every rational being participates in the divine life. In
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 35
virtue of their reason all men are of the family of the gods :
ut homines deorum agnatione et gente teneantur (De Leg. I, vii),
and in this common origin they find the first cause of their
unity and mutual love.
There exists a natural society, consisting of rational beings,
which stands in the same contrast to civil society, as does the
divine law to the human. This society recognizes neither
Greeks nor barbarians, neither strangers nor enemies, neither
masters nor slaves, but grants the rights of the state, without
distinction, to all those who participate m reason. Nay more,
reason circulates through the universe, extends to all beings ;
hence the state which is governed by reason is identified with
the world, and justice is the law that expresses the order of
things. From these lofty conceptions springs philanthropy, or
the love of the human race, a virtue hitherto unknown, and
revealed to the world for the first time by the Stoics. Cicero
uses the Christian expression 'charity' {Caritas generis hitmani).
And Seneca says : " Wherever there is a man there is occasion
for a good deed " (Sen. Ep. XXIV, 3). The Stoics substituted
universal brotherhood for the patriotism which had been
ruined and deprived of its object when the smaller
states disappeared in the empires of Alexander and Rome.
Their cosmopolitanism did not prevent them from being law-
abiding citizens. The laws of the state are a reflection of
natural and divine law. Veri juris germanaeque justitiac
solidam et exprcssam effigiem nullam tenemus, umbra et imaginibus
utimur. Eas ipsas utinam sequeremur ! {De Off. Ill, XVII).
So long as reason governs, or even makes its voice heard in
the state, the Stoic wise man is glad to take his place and live
in it ; he accepts his share of public offices and performs his
duty as a citizen.
The Stoic formulae of virtue can easily be transformed into
pious maxims. To live according to nature, to obey the law,
what is this but to honour the Cod invoked by Cleanthea
in these terms: "0 Lord of Nature, Thou who governest all
things with law ; Jupiter, Hail ! "
Thus morality leads up to religion, and piety was made the
goal of virtue not only by Epictetus or Antoninus, but also In-
one of the founders of Stoicism. The religious worship of
the Stoics was primarily homage to the Sovereign Lteason.
36 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
" Thee, O Jupiter, it is lawful for all mortals to address. . . . There-
fore I will forever sing Thee and celebrate Thy power. All this universe
rolling round the earth obeys Thee, and follows willingly at Thy
command. Such a minister hast Thou in Thy invincible hands, the
two-edged, flaming, vivid thunderbolt. . . . By it dost Thou control that
common reason which circulates through all things, and which is in
the great and in the smaller lights of heaven. Such, Thou King Supreme,
is thy mighty rule o'er all things " {Hymn of Cleanthes, trans, by Sir
Alex. Grant).
Knowledge of the order established by God in the world
inclines our will to conform to it. For this order is necessary.
The facts of Nature, the events of history, form an indissoluble
chain whose links were rivetted by Fate, and which chance can-
not break. Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt (Sen. Trag.).
But God does not only constrain us by force , He also persuades
us by reason. The reign of necessity is at the same time the
triumph of justice, and destiny does the work of Providence.
So that, while it would be merely unreasonable not to accept
the inflexible law of Fate, it would be impious and sacrilegious
to oppose, if even only by an impotent will, the wise decrees of
Providence. Deo parere libertas est (Sen. Be Vita beata). To
be pious is to will what God wills, because we know not only
that His will is always accomplished, but also that it is
always worthy to be accomplished.
" O King, most high, nothing is done without Thee either in heaven or
on earth, or in the sea, except what the wicked do in their foolishness.
Thou makest order out of disorder, and what is worthless becomes precious
in Thy sight ; for Thou hast fitted together good and evil into one, and
hast established one law that exists for ever. But the wicked fly from
Thy law, unhappy ones, and though they desire to possess what is good,
yet they see not, neither do they hear, the universal law of God " {Hymn
of Cleanthes).
The Stoics, however, far from treating virtue as subordinate
to piety, regard the fear even of the gods as contemptible
when it takes in the soul the place of the desire for the good.
Thus religion with them is primarily devotion to duty. Since
justice reigns, the immortality of the soul is a matter of
indifference. " No," says Chrysippus, " it is not through the
fear of the gods that we should try to dissuade men from
acting unjustly. All this talk about divine vengeance is open
to discussion, and involves many difficulties. It is very like
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 37
the stories about Acco and Alphito, by which women prevent
little children from doing wrong;."
The Stoics' attitude with regard to the popular religion is a
further proof of the ethical nature of their faith. They would
disturb none of the things that help to preserve morality.
The Stoics used the mythological legends in the same way as
Christianity utilized the pagan temples : they made them
serve their faith. But while they converted ancient religion
into an ethical symbolism, the Stoics were not the belated
apologists of paganism, but, to say the least, the promoters of
a new religion which we have already denned as the " cult
of duty."
Epicureanism in Rome ; Lucretius. Roman Stoicism ;
Cicero's Eclecticism ; Seneca ; Direction of Consciences.
In their philosophy the Romans lacked originality, but not
in their morality. No doubt their ethical doctrines were
borrowed from Greece. But, as is always the case, these
doctrines became modified by contact with the habits and cus-
toms which they were intended to influence. Epicureanism and
Stoicism could only be adopted in Rome by becoming Eoman.
Lucretius believed himself to be the respectful disciple, the
faithful expounder of Epicurean teaching ; but, as has been
noticed, Epicureanism with him takes a strong " Eoman tinge,"
becomes " virile, and assumes a stern, haughty, imperious
tone " (Martha). The precepts of Epicurus as uttered by him
take at any rate a fresh accent. Love, ambition, fill him with
a kind of terror unknown to Epicurus. The Athenian sage
found within himself the best remedy for his passions, namely
disenchantment. But Lucretius has none of this calm reason-
ableness ; of love he gives a terrifying picture, describing it in
the same words as the plague and other scourges (St. leuve).
But even while lifting his voice with all the moralist's
burning zeal against this blameworthy passion, he portrays
it so truly and so forcibly, he renders so well the emotion
belonging to it, that it has been thought he must himself
have suffered from the evils he describes. The Epicurean ethics
were calculated to attract minds that were either unusually
refined or unusually indolent. And so in Rome, with the
exception of the sage and prudent Atticus, it had none but
38 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
unworthy votaries, who borrowed its name to cover their vices
{e.g. Gabinius, Piso, and Caesar). Epicureanism was repugnant
to the Eoman temperament, for the Eomans were Stoics before
the letter, and as philosophers they became Stoics after the
spirit.
Cicero was as remarkable for his fluctuations between
different schools as Lucretius for the firmness with which
he adhered to one. We cannot say of Cicero that he was a
Stoic, but only that he was inclined to Stoicism. He was a
learned historian of philosophy, rather than a philosopher.
He defended and seemed to adopt different systems in turn,
just as he might in his capacity of a conscientious and honest
advocate plead various causes provided they were honourable.
Thus he is a Stoic in the Be Officiis, which is practically
a translation, and in the Tusculans ; he is a Peripatetic,
and the opponent of Epicureanism in the De Finibus ;
and he is an Academic throughout all his writings.
Cicero's contribution to philosophy has no unity beyond
that derived from his own personality. His writings
reveal an upright and elevated mind, devoted to law and
justice, and careful of the interests of his Eoman fatherland.
He gives evidence of an upright and steadfast conscience,
in the first place, by the manner in which he deals with the
subtle and often treacherous art of casuistry. He denounces
all legal frauds, bad faith in the making of contracts, intrigues
for obtaining legacies. He lays down the principles of the
law of nations, of generosity to the conquered, and observance
of treaties (De Officiis). Again he proves himself a subtle
moralist when he points out the rules of decorum, and
defines those pleasing obligations of good breeding which
are part of an exquisite politeness, and matters rather
of good taste than of conscience. But his is above all
a generous mind, whose sympathy naturally inclines to
the noblest doctrines ; hence he speaks with equal admira-
tion of Zeno and of Aristotle, and considers indeed that they
differ only in the language they use : Sentit idem Zeno quod
Xenocrates, quod Aristoteles, loquitur alio modo (Be Ley. I, 21).
Why is he so violent in his attack on Epicureanism ? It is
because this doctrine lowers the ethical ideal, because it
would relieve man of his duties as a citizen, as of a heavy
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 39
burden, and this is offensive to Cicero's patriotic feelings. He
even becomes intolerant when dealing with Epicurus. " It is
not a philosopher that is needed to refute this language, but a
censor to condemn it."
Whilst philosophy is for Cicero the occupation of a cultured
leisure (liberale otium), Seneca looks upon it as a profession ;
its object for him is, not to give intellectual pleasure (oblecta-
mentum), but to cure souls {remedium : Epist. CXVII, 33) ; he
preaches philosophy with an ardour that aims less at dogma
than at precept.
"... Here is no room for jesting. You are called upon to succour
the distressed ; you are under an obligation to lend all possible assistance
to the shipwrecked, to the prisoner, to the sick, to the poor and needy,
and to the unhappy under sentence of death " {Epist. XLVIII).
He never loses sight of the conversion and the salvation of
souls. The Treatise on Clemency, dedicated to ' Nero, the
Consolations to Hclvia, Marcia, and Polybius, are works of direct
moral advice. The Letters to Lueilius are a veritable treatise
on moral direction. The philosopher is seen grappling with
all the diseases of the soul : weariness, hardness, the fashionable
levity which scoffs at virtue and at philosophers : " He may
make me laugh, but perhaps I shall make him weep " {Epist.
XXIX, 7).
Side by side with the director of conscience there is in
Seneca the casuist witness his justification of the murder of
Agrippina, and his personal apologia in the De Vita Beata.
He came from Spain, the country of casuistry. But what
strikes us most in him, is that he is much more
deeply imbued than Cicero with the humanitarian principles
of the Stoics. In slaves, he sees, not merely ' servants
hired in perpetuity" {De Off. I, 13), but "friends of humble
estate" {Epist. XLVII). They are slaves, but, above all.
they are men. Cicero was not above calling the gladiatorial
games a school for courage : " When it is the guilty that tight,
we might by our ears perhaps, but certainly by our eyes \w
could not, have better training to harden us against pain or
death" {Tusc. II, 17). Seneca, on the contrary, docs not wish
the people to be taught cruelty: "This man lias committed a
theft; what then, he deserves to be hanged: another slew a
man; it is but just he be slain himself. Ami what hast, thou
40 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
deserved, oh wretch, who canst take delight in this horrid
spectacle ? " (Epist. VII).
While they condemned pity, the Stoics nevertheless held
that the principle of assisting the poor is founded on natural
right. In this way they connected charity with justice, and
they represent both as a strict obligation. " Why," says
Seneca to the rich man, " are you so sparing of your property
as though it were your own ? You have but the management
of it " (De Benef. VI, 3). There is an element of socialism in
the Stoic ethics ; they do not admit that the rights of property
can be pleaded as exempting us from the duty of alms-giving.
It is by the insight and courage he shows in his opinions that
Seneca appeals to us; his ethical teaching proves that a
veritable revolution had taken place in the minds of men.
Epictetus* Marcus Aurelius ; Pious Resignation.
Seneca writes for his friend Lucilius, for his mother Helvia,
for his pupil Nero ; Epictetus, on the other hand, lectures in
public and addresses the people. This fact in itself shows the
development of ethical preaching in Borne. Philosophy had
now become a profession {Discourses, I, 4) or rather a mission
and priestly function. The conception which Epictetus formed
of it was so elevated, that he enjoins those who exercise this
function to have neither wife nor child, to give up public life,
in a word, to sacrifice all, for the sake of the unique privilege
of being an instructor of the human race (Discoiirses, III, 22).
In thus assuming the direction of men's consciences,
Philosophy undertook at the same time the office of consulting
their needs, and responding to their aspirations. So Epictetus,
himself doubly a slave, having as master Epaphroditus and as
Emperor Domitian, holds out to mankind, oppressed by the
yoke of the Ca?sars, the proud consolation that despotism has
no power over the liberty of the soul.
" Whether then have you nothing," asks the philosopher of his disciple,
" which is in your own power, which depends on your self only and cannot
be taken from you, or have you anything of the kind ? I know not. Is
any man able to make you assent to that which is false ? No man. Can
a man force you to desire to move towards that to which you do not
choose 1 He can, for when he threatens me with death or bonds, he com-
pels me to desire to move towards it. If then you despise death and
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 41
bonds, do you still pay any regard to him ? No. Is then the despising
of death an act of your own, or is it not yours ? It is my act " (Discourses,
IV, 1, trans, by Long).
True liberty consists in controlling our thoughts and
desires, in defending ourselves against external evils, entrenched
in the impregnable fortress of the will. Some things depend
upon ourselves, others do not. (t ecp' >]/ucv, tu ovk e<p' fifuv,
Manuel, I.) What depends on ourselves is our thought,
whereas health, wealth, and all external advantages, are things
we have no control over. Let us only cling to what depends on
ourselves, and nothing can affect us. Liberty of mind is our
most precious possession, not only because it frees us from all
the evils created by opinion, but also because it is one with
reason (to ryye/xoviKov), that divine part of the soul, and there-
fore our dignity (a^loo/ma) rests on it. We should not hesitate
even to sacrifice our lives, in order to maintain this freedom intact.
If we find it hard to renounce all the supposed joys of life,
if we persist in looking upon sickness, poverty, and death, as
evils, it is because we do not remember that what seems to us
the caprice of fortune is part of the scheme of a wise Provi-
dence leading all things by necessary means to the good.
Epictetus' doctrine of resignation loses its austerity as it passes
into respect for the Divine Will, faith in Providence, in short,
a pious submission : he does his duty and leaves the rest to
the gods.
" For what else can I do, a lame old man, than sing hymns to God ? If
I were a nightingale, I would do the part of a nightingale. If I were a
swan, I would do it like a swan. But now I am a rational creature and I
ought to praise God : this is my work ; I do it, nor will I desert this
post, so long as I am allowed to keep it ; and I exhort you to join in the
same song" (Discourses, I, XIII).
Epictetus sums up his moral doctrine in this brief and
negative formula : " Endure and abstain " (avej(ov kcu airi^ov).
Marcus Aurelius, also, but more plaintively, proclaims the
impotency of man. The world pursues its invariable course,
and we can change nothing of its laws. Yet is our destiny
linked to that of the world; and carried along as we are by
the current of things, we can only exclaim : " 1 am in harmony
with all that is a part of thy harmony, Great V inverse !
(Medit. IV, 23).
42 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
The whole of virtue lies in resignation, and we do not even
know that this resignation is of a pious nature, for it may be
submission to a blind necessity, and not to a divine goodness.
In vain does Marcus Aurelius say, " All that happens, happens
aright" (Mtd.it. IV, 9). Doubt still lingers in his mind :
" The world is either a confused mingling of elements which
combine and disperse, or a unity of order and Providence"
(Medit. VI, 10). He concludes, it is true, that in neither case
has the sage anything to fear. Nor is he much more successful
in his vindication of social duties. " What strikes one most in
Marcus Aurelius is, no doubt, his conception of the unity of the
world, the close connection between all its parts, and the con-
sequent obligation upon all men, as members of one body, to
live each for the other " (Ravaisson). But, according to him,
the ideal which philosophers treat of is very far removed from
the reality of things. "We have to resign ourselves to the
injustice of men : " Protest till you burst : men will go on
just the same " (Meclit. VIII, 4).
One thing alone can console us for the evil done to us, and
that is the selfish reflection that we are not sullied thereby.
" Say men kill you, quarter you, pursue you with execrations,
what has that to do with your understanding remaining
pure, lucid, temperate, just ? " (Mcdit. VIII, 50).
Marcus Aurelius does not hate men they are wicked
and should be pitied ; but if he can be said to love them,
it is with a love that knows no illusion and feels itself to
be powerless.
Neo-Platonism, : Mystical Ethics ; The Return to God ;
Practical Virtues.
The Alexandrians were disciples of both Aristotle and
Plato, but they introduced into their ethics an element which
was foreign to the Greek spirit, namely, the contempt for action
traditional in the East, which naturally asserted itself, more
especially at a period of oppression and civil disturbances,
such as the beginning of the third century. It is when a life
of action is closed to them that men take refuge in the contem-
plative life. Having no fatherland on earth, they seek to
found one above, and this is the sense in which we must
understand these words of Plotinus :
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 43
" Let us fly to our dear, our true fatherland. . . . Our fatherland is
there whence we came, and there, too, is our father. Our feet are power-
less to carry us thither ; they can bear us only from end to end of the
earth. Nor will ships serve our need, nor chariots drawn by swift
horses. Let us leave such vain means aside for seeing our dear fatherland
again ; we have but to close our bodily eyes and open the eyes of the
spirit" {Enneads I, VI, 8).
The ethical doctrine of the Alexandrians was mystical, like
all their philosophy. Evil, they taught, comes to the soul, in
the first place, from its having been born into an individual life,
whereby it was separated from the soul of the universe. For
in its ethical sense the procession (-rrpooSos) of the Alexandrians
is a fall. Again, evil for man is, above all, to love himself as
an imperfect and finite being and to be content with his
state of degradation ; while the good is the emancipation of the
soul from the sensible world, her withdrawal into herself, her
return towards the universal soul, towards intelligence, towards
the One. Conversion, or the turning of the soul to God,
culminates in union with God, or ecstasy, which is the perfect
good.
Moral life is therefore a continuous progress towards
perfection, an unceasing effort to reach God. The virtues
belonging to it mark the degrees in this ascent of the soul,
which is called conversion. They proceed one from another,
and are developed in dialectic order in the succession of time.
The lowest virtues, which mark the first stage in moral life, are
the practical ones : prudence, courage, temperance, justice.
These have scarcely more than a negative value; they purify the
soul, draw it away from evil and save it from sin; they bring it
to the threshold of Divine Life, but do not cause it to enter
therein. They are like the virtues of Hercules, by which he
desired to pass from earth to heaven, but are not yet the
virtues of the Gods themselves. They are not the goal, but
they are the steps leading to it.
In the contemplative life, to which the practical virtues
are the means of approach, there are also various stages.
The object of contemplation is the Beautiful. But there are
two kinds of beauty: sensible beauty, which is the triumph of
form over matter, and moral beauty, which is the triumph of
intellect over the passions and senses. Contrasting one with
44 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
the other Plotinus said : " The face of Justice is more beautiful
than the evening Star." The different contemplative virtues
correspond to the different degrees in beauty. While
thought, as pure activity, was regarded by Aristotle as self-
sufficing, it was, for the Alexandrians, a movement towards an
end. Thought tries to get beyond itself, it rises above beauty
in its endeavour to reach an object which is outside and above
itself, namely, the Good. Beauty gives rise to love, but it is
not the principle of love. What renders beauty admirable is
the Good that shines through it ; that is the reason, said
Plotinus, why the face of a man alive is more beautiful than
the face of one dead, and a living animal is more beautiful
than an animal in a picture, even if the latter possesses a more
perfect form.
Contemplation is, therefore, an endless moving towards
God; it does not bring us into the divine life, but prepares us
for it, and leads us thither. We cannot unite ourselves to the
Good, we can only deserve, by our virtues, that it should unite
itself to us. We can only keep our eyes fixed on the horizon
(which was the symbol of contemplation) waiting for the sun
(the symbol of the Good) to rise above the ocean. Plotinus,
continuing this metaphor, represents thought as the wave, on
which we are lifted up and carried along.
Thus all the practical and contemplative virtues are no more
than the initiation into the divine life ; their goal and
their reward is ecstasy, or union with God. In contemplation
the soul is still distinguished from her object, in ecstasy she
becomes one with it.
" They who know nothing of this higher state," says Plotinus, " may
gain some conception of it from the love known to us here below, when
we love passionately and attain that which we love. But the love of this
world has for its object nought but mortal things and shadows. True
love is found only above . . . there nothing remains but that which loves
and that which is loved, and these are no longer two, together they make
but one " {Enneads, VI, IX, 9).
There are no words in which to describe ecstasy, because
ecstasy transcends reason. It is arrived at, says Porphyry, (: by
the suspension of all the intellectual faculties, by repose and the
annihilation of thought. As the soul learns to know sleep when
slumbering, so it is in ecstasy or the annihilation of all the
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN ANCIENT TIMES 45
faculties of her being, that she knows that which is above
existence and above truth " (Porphy. Sent. Art. 26). In
ecstasy is perfect happiness ; but this happiness which fills the
soul to overflowing lasts but for one instant ; it is part of its
nature to elude consciousness. " Those reflections which
sometimes accompany our actions, far from making them more
perfect only enfeeble them, and diminish their intensity."
Such then is the supreme Good, a gift of God rather than the
fruit of virtue ; it is fleeting, nay more, it is unfelt.
General Character of Ancient Ethics : The Notion of Duty.
The distinctive character of ancient ethics was the identi-
fication of happiness and virtue ; the end set before man was
always that Supreme Good in which, even here below, these two
objects were to be reconciled, and to become one. The notion
of duty, in the stricter sense of the word, is a modern one,
though it was not altogether unknown to the ancients ; but
Kant was the first to emphasise this idea, and to found the
whole of morality upon it. Plato and Aristotle speak continu-
ally of the Good {rayaQov), and of virtue ; but we do not find
in their works any expression that corresponds to what we call
duty. The terms (to ocpeXov, to Seov) which come nearest
to expressing this conception, are rarely met with in the exact
sense which we give to the word duty.
At a very early period, however, the Greeks had formed the
conception of a moral law, which commands and forbids like
the civil laws, but differs from these in that it is unwritten.
Socrates energetically upholds, in opposition to the Sophist
Hippias, the doctrine of unwritten laws (vofioi aypa<f>oi) ; and
this notion must have been already familiar, since Sophocles
put it into the mouth of Antigone in the play. In the Crito,
Plato expresses the idea of absolute obligation which is
inherent to the moral law. " Neither injury nor retaliation,
nor warding off evil by evil is ever right." But as a rule, Plato
seeks the good and the beautiful rather than the obligatory,
and this characteristic is even more striking in Aristotle.
The Stoics, like Plato and Aristotle, aimed especially at
determining the nature of the good. It was always with the
notions of the good and of virtue, that they concerned them-
selves. Still, the distinction they made between Kadmov and
46 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
KaTopOw/j-a, brought them very near to the modern notion of
duty. The KaQijKov, as we have seen, expresses every appro-
priate action, or in other words, every action for which one
can give some plausible, natural reason ; as, for example, reasons
of utility or of sentiment, such as the care of one's health, of
children, etc. A higher degree of wisdom or of virtue, con-
stitutes the KaTopOoo/ua (Officio, perfecta, or strictly, perfectum),
which consists in doing the KaOrjKovra, but in a different spirit,
namely, as things good in themselves and in harmony with
the universal order. Of all the expressions therefore, in the
ethical terminology of the ancients, KaropQw/xa is the one that
corresponds most closely with our idea of absolute duty.
Still, we must remember that KaropQooixa indicates the ideal
perfection of human wisdom rather than the notion of
obligation in itself.
To sum up : the leading idea in ancient ethics is that of
the Supreme Good, that is, of the harmonious union of virtue
and happiness in the soul of the wise man.
CHAPTER II
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES
Christian Morality : Faith, Hope, and Charity.
All the pagan philosophers endeavoured to find the principle
of human morality in the intellect : Plato and Aristotle,
Epicurus and the Stoics, even the Sceptics and the Alexandrian
Mystics all regarded the Supreme Good as the reward of
wisdom. But according to Christian teaching, the mainspring
of the moral life is not the intellect but the heart. Love is
the supreme principle in practical life : love brings with it
happiness and virtue, and every other good.
In the first place, faith is now substituted for knowledge.
Faith is an act of the will as well as a conviction, or mental
act. It is an act of self-surrender, of loving and trustful sub-
mission to the word of God, and to His will. The Christian
dies according to the flesh that he may live anew according to
the spirit.
The first effect of faith is a spiritual second birth (7raAi-yyeio-ia,
Titus, III, 5). The spirit dwells in regenerated man. "The fruit of
the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, kindness, goodness, faith-
fulness" {Gal. V, 22): all the Christian virtues. The greatest of the
virtues, the principle of all the others, which is both derived from and
contained in faith, for it is the fulfilment of the law, is charity.
KXqpoijxa vofxov rj dyd-n-y] (Rom. XIII, 10) " Faith worketh by love '' (<iuL
V, 6) : and charity manifests itself by good works. Charity includes the
love of God and the love of our neighbour as a necessary consequence of
the love of God. "Beloved, let us love one another : for love is of (J oil ;
and every one that loveth is begotten of God, and knoweth God. He
that loveth not knoweth not God ; for God is love. Herein was the love
48 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
of God manifested in us, that God hath sent His only begotten Son into
the world, that we might live through Him. . . . Beloved, if God so
loved us, we also ought to love one another. ... If we love one another,
God abideth in us, and His love is perfected in us" (1 John, V, 7-12).
Love is to Christians what wisdom was to the ancients, the
principle, that is to say, of all the virtues.
" Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And
though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all
knowledge ; and though I have all faith so that I did remove mountains
and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods
to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have
not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffergth long, and is
kind ; chp-rity envieth not . . . beareth all things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things" (1 Cor. XIII, 1-7).
We have seen that the Stoics had formed a conception of
the brotherhood of man {Caritas generis Jmmani): all men, in
virtue of reason present in them, were sons of God. But the
charity of the Stoics was a rational sentiment, the result of
reflection, and of the consciousness of human dignity.
Christian charity is deeper, more ardent. It is also de-
rivative and indirect ; for man by his nature is degenerate and
corrupt, and our love for one another is only a consequence of
the love which God bears to us ; it is to please God, to unite
ourselves in intention with Him that we should love our
neighbour. Charity consists in desiring the moral good, the
perfection of our neighbour, and in the alleviation of his
woes. Towards the guilty it is shown in forgiveness and pity.
" He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her "
(John, VIII, 7). "Father, forgive them ; for they know not what they do."
In accordance with this new morality, there arose a new
conception of the Supreme Good, of the good, that is, in which
happiness and virtue are united. All the ancients had
admitted a relation of identity between virtue and happiness.
For Socrates and Plato, for Aristotle and Zeno, to possess
virtue is to possess happiness ; while Epicurus holds that he
who is happy is virtuous. But the Christian conception is
quite different. Virtue is Charity ; in other words, it is the
love of God, and the love of man in God and for God.
Happiness is the possession of God. It is true that to love
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 49
God is to possess Him to a certain extent, and to be loved by
Him, but it is not to possess Him fully, and love tends towards
a perfect union. Virtue, though it deserves happiness, is only
the beginning of it, for the Supreme Good is not of this world ;
it is in another life that our destiny will be fulfilled. The
faith that corresponds to this expectation, faith as belief in a
Supreme Good that will in the future be real and necessary, takes
the form of another virtue, namely, hope (e\7rh), which has for
its object the bliss promised to the elect but not yet possessed
by them. Faith, hope, and charity are the three great
Christian virtues, and they are closely connected, inseparable
indeed, since they all represent the same condition of the soul.
But these virtues do not depend on the human will, because
the condition that makes them possible implies Divine grace,
and this we cannot give to ourselves. The Spirit bloweth
where it listeth. We have already seen the difficulty which
the Christian theologians had in reconciling the doctrines of
free will and grace.
Mediaeval Ethics : Conscience ; Synderesis and Conscientia.
In Ethics, as in the other branches of philosophy, the
scholastic teachers sought no new principles. They adhered to
the traditions of antiquity and of Christianity. But the
practice of a religion in which the attention of the mind is con-
stantly turned to itself, develops in the soul the sense of things
spiritual. By looking into and examining their own minds
during long hours of anxious and solitary introspection, the
mediaeval theologians discovered conscience, of which they
were the first to make an analysis. We find already, in the
writings of Abelard, the part played by conscience in human
morality clearly pointed out.
Christian morality is merely the natural law reformed {reformatio
legis nahiralis, qtiam secutos esse philosophos constat {Thcol. Chr. II).
Philosophers, like the gospel, made morality lie in the intention (intentio
animi) ; and they rightly said that good men ny from evil through love
of the good and not through fear of punishment. The Supreme Good in
itself is God. Like Duns Scotus and Descartes later, Abelard makes the
distinction between good and evil depend on the arbitrary will of <!<>il :
unde et ea, quae per se videntur pessima et ideo culpanda, cvmju8fdonejvu.nl
dominica ; constat itaque totam boni vel malt discrctionem in divinae dis-
pensationis placito consistere (Comm. in Ep. ad Rom. II, 809, Migne's ed.).
II. D
50 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
The Supreme Good for man is the love of God, and the way
to this good is virtue, which, by Abelard, is defined as good will
grown into a fixed habit (bona in Jutbitum solidata voluntas).
It is not in the act itself, according to him, but in the intention
that moral good or evil lies. The act itself is indifferent ;
even bad inclinations, which are the consequence of original sin,
leave us innocent. It is the consent to evil that constitutes
sin (joeccatum).
" Non e?iim quae Jiant, sed quo animo fiant pensat Deus, nee in opere, sed
in intentio7ie meritum operantis vel laus consistit " (Eth. 3).
" Opera omnia in se indifferentia, nee nisi pro intentione agentis vel bona
vel mala dicenda sunt " (Eth. 7). But the intention depends on conscience,
which distinguishes between good and evil. Man sins only when he acts
contrary to his own conscience. But to be virtuous it is not enough to
obey conscience ; the latter must also be enlightened, and in agreement
with the commands of the law. If conscience errs, the action is culpable,
but less so than in a case where the action though conformable to the law
is contrary to the injunctions of individual conscience. Non est peccatum
nisi contra conscientiam (Eth. 13). Qui persequebantur Christum vel suos,
quos persequendos credebant, per operationem peccasse dicimus, qui tamen
graviorem culpam peccassent, si contra conscientiam eis parcerent (Eth. 14).
Such was the truly elevated and novel doctrine of Abelard.
The analysis of conscience was resumed later by Albertus
Magnus. He makes a distinction between the faculty by
which we discern good from evil, and what we may call the
moral sentiment, or rather the moral disposition.
Conscience, properly so-called, is the law of reason (lex mentis, lex
rationis et intellectus), by which we know what to do, and what to avoid.
This faculty, inasmuch as it implies consciousness of the general
principles of practical life, is innate and inamissible, but as the knowledge
of particular duties it is acquired. Lex mentis liabitus naturalis est
quantum ad principia, acquisitus quantum ad scita.
From Conscientia he distinguishes the principle of moral
activity, Synderesis. What is the origin and exact meaning of
this term ? We find it for the first time in St. Jerome, but as
Ueberweg says, it is possible that the word used by the
scholastics was simply derived from a copyist's error, and that
it should be read a-uvelSrjcn?. However that may be, Synderesis,
scintilla conscientiae, was distinguished by the scholastics from
Conscientia, being, as it were, the original flame of which
conscience is the actual radiance.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 51
In the moral consciousness there is, then, firstly a mental act,
the distinction of good from evil; secondly, a power inherent in
man which has not been destroyed by original sin and which
inclines us to the good and draws us away from evil. This is
Synderesis, a remnant of Adam's first nature.
"In singulis viribus manet aliquid rectum quod in judicando et
appetendo concordat rectitudini primae in qua creatus est homo.
Synderesis est rectitudo martens in singulis viribus, concordans rectitudini
primae {Albert. Summ. de Creaturis, p. II, qu. 69)."
According to St. Thomas, Synderesis is not a potentiality in the Aristo-
telian sense, but a natural possession of practical principles, just as
intellect is a natural possession of speculative principles, habitus
quidam naturalis pnncipiorum operabilium, sicut intellectus habitus est
principiorum speculabilium, et non potentia aliqvxt, (Summa theologiae I, q.
79, 12). Conscience is the act by which we apply our knowledge to our
actions. Conscientia actus est quo scientiam nostram ad ea quae agim <is
applicamus (Ibid. 13).
Here again Synderesis is the principle of conscientia. But St.
Thomas conceives it in a more purely intellectual way than his
master, Albertus Magnus. The moral philosophy of Thomas
Aquinas is, in other respects, a combination of Christian and
Aristotelian ethics. He distinguishes the practical from the
contemplative life. He regards the four philosophical virtues,
temperance, fortitude, wisdom, justice, as acquired virtues
{virtutes acquisitac), which lead to natural happiness, while the
theological virtues, faith, hope, and love, are divinely inspired
{virtutes infusae) and lead to supernatural bliss. Our will is
not compelled. It is subject to a moral necessity which does
not destroy its freedom : our choice depends on ourselves.
Here we have the notion of obligation, but St. Thomas hastens
to add that we can do nothing of ourselves. We need the
grace of God and His assistance even for the practice of the
natural virtues, and still more if we are to share in perfect
bliss, which is the vision of God (Visio divinae esscnttae).
Mysticism sprang naturally from the deptli and ardour of
religious feeling in the Middle Ages. It was a reaction
against the abuse of logical formalism, and then, as always,
resolved itself into the placing of feeling above reason, ami
of immediate intuition above discursive thought. "The highest
felicity," says St. Bernard, " is the mysterious flight of the soul
52 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
to heaven, the sweet return from the domain of the corporeal
to the region of spirits, and fusion in God."
Hugo and Eichard of St. Victor followed the pseudo-
Dionysius the Areopagite, in his Neo-Platonism ; they dis-
tinguish contemplatio (the immediate intuition of truth) from
cogitatio (sensuous knowledge) and from meditatio (discursive
thought). As regards its object they taught that there are six
stages in contemplation, the lowest, in imaginations et secundum
imaginationem, consists in contemplating divine beauty in the
beauty of the sensible world ; the highest, supra rationem
et praeter rationem, in penetrating into mysteries that are
inaccessible to reason. From the psychological point of view
there are three stages in contemplatio, of which the lowest is a
dilatatio mentis ; the second an elevation, sublevatio mentis ;
the third an alienation, alienatio mentis, an ecstasy in which,
by suppressing all individual consciousness, we lose ourselves in
God. Mediaeval mysticism finds its most poetic and most
popular expression in the celebrated Imitation of Christ.
Descartes Empirical Ethics : the Soul Considered in its
Relation to the Body ; The Life of the Soul ; Knowledge and Good-
will.
With Bacon and Descartes, Ethics as well as philosophy
became more distinct from religion and more independent of
theology. There was a return to the traditions of antiquity,
and an attempt was made to solve the problem of human destiny
through reason alone. The Cartesian nationalists sought to
find the principles of virtue and happiness in the knowledge
of universal and necessary laws, while the Empiricists would
derive the whole of morality from the observation of human
nature, from such a fact, for example, as egoism or sympathy. It
is to Kant that the merit belongs of having restored Ethics by
fixing its principle elsewhere, and founding it wholly upon the
idea of duty.
Descartes' conception of Ethics was that of the ancients.
He endeavours to define the Supreme Good which comprises
felicity and virtue, and, by proving that these two terms
coincide, to reconcile Epicurus with Zeno. (Letter to the Queen
of Sweden.) Descartes has two ethical systems, one of which
leads to the other. The first is empirical and has to do with
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 53
the life of the soul in its relation to the body, its object being
to free us from the passions and thereby make possible the life
of pure intelligence. The second, which is based on good-will
and knowledge, aims at an independent existence for the soul
and a felicity attainable only through its own efforts.
The human body is an automatic machine in which every-
thing is explained by extension and the laws of motion. To
this machine a soul is joined, and what was mechanical action
in the body becomes passion in the soul. All the passions
(admiration, love, hate, etc.) are therefore merely an image of
the body and its internal movements reflected in the soul
(see Vol. I, Chap. VIII). Since self-possession, or the control
of passion, is the condition of wisdom, it is clear that medical
science is most important to the life of the soul: for what
science could be more valuable than the one which, by
enabling us to regulate the course of our animal spirits
and to change their composition, would make us masters of
our passions ? By means of remedies properly proportioned,
we should thus be able to prearrange and fix accurately the
degrees of sadness, of joy or love.
" Descartes thought that nothing would be more certain to produce
temporal felicity than a happy combination of medicine with mathematics'''
(Baillet, III, 5). And Descartes himself says, "the preservation of health
is the first good, and the foundation of all other goods ; for our mind
depends so much on our temperament, and on the state of our bodily
organs, that if it were possible to find any means by which men would
become wiser and more ingenious than they have hitherto been, it is in
medicine that these means must be sought" {Disc, de la Me'th. 6th part).
Thus the first chapter of the Cartesian Ethics would be a
system of hygiene, giving prescriptions that would ensure to
man complete mastery over his passions.
Notwithstanding all his efforts, Descartes was unable
to formulate this therapeutic of the passions. It might
seem, then, that we must remain the slaves of our bodies.
But what appeared to be our ruin is in reality our salvation,
for the relation between body and soul is a reciprocal relation.
Hence certain passions (correlative modifications) must corre-
spond in the body to the mental acts, and in this fad we
perceive a means of making ourselves free. For if the soul la
free, and if everything that takes place in it affects the body,
54 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
then, by directing and regulating the soul, it is possible to
regulate the body. Medicine enabled us to attack the body
directly, to fight against the passions by physical means ; but
through the indirect action of the soul we recover possession of
ourselves. It is true that the soul is only capable of acting on
itself, but by calling up such and such a thought and
dwelling on it, it may, firstly, suspend the action which
would ensue from the passion {Pass. 146); secondly, it
may alter the motion of the small gland which is its
seat and give a new direction to the animal spirits, and
produce thereby in itself a different or even a contrary
passion (Pass. I, 45) ; thirdly, the soul may sometimes do yet
more, for, without altering the action of the gland, it may
through habit associate with this action thoughts which
it has had the strength to dwell on while the action lasted.
" The connection between our minds and our bodies is of
such a nature that when we have once associated a certain
bodily action with a certain thought, the one never presents
itself without the other " (Pass. II, 136).
Through habit, therefore, we are able to change the natural
order of the passions and invert the relations between the
physical and moral life. We may act in such a way that to
the motions of the pineal gland, instead of the passions which
would naturally correspond to them, there may correspond
quite opposite thoughts, calculated to make us behave in a
manner befitting rational, independent beings. Thus, since we
cannot act mechanically on the mechanism of the body, we
have recourse to artifice and ingenuity (Pass. I, 47). In this
way we find a moral equivalent to medicine, and a moral
hygiene is substituted for a physical ; the indirect action of
the soul takes the place of the direct action of medicine.
The soul, though joined to the body, is distinct from it, and
has its own separate life. " It may enjoy pleasures apart
from the body " (Pass. Ill, 212). By controlling the passions
it separates itself from the body, and recovers its true
nature, which is to be free and to depend only on itself and
on its thoughts. Thus moral hygiene leads up to true
morality, which is the science of the Supreme Good. What
then is the Good which is to give at once happiness and
virtue ?
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 55
" It consists in the determined will to do right, and in the contentment
which such a will produces. Not only is our free will in itself our highest
possession, inasmuch as it makes us in a manner like to God, and seems to
exempt us from being subject to Him, the proper use of it being con-
sequently the greatest among goods ; but it is also the good that belongs to
us most especially and is for us the most important. From this it follows
that it is only from our free will that our highest satisfactions can
proceed " {Letter to the Queen of Sweden). " It is not necessary that our
reason should be never mistaken, it is enough if our conscience tells us
that we have always had sufficient firmness and virtue to execute all
those things which we have judged to be the best ; and thus virtue alone
suffices to give us contentment in this life" (Letter to Princess Elizabeth,
1st May, 1645).
Having, like Kant later on, placed the end of man in the
good will, Descartes then seems to contradict himself, and,
following Socrates and Plato, to make everything depend on
the intellect.
"When our virtue is not sufficiently enlightened by the understanding
it may be false, and in this case the contentment which it brings is not
real and secure. Man's highest happiness depends on the right use of
reason, and consequently the study that leads to its acquisition is the
most useful occupation he can have, as it is also, without doubt, the most
agreeable and the most delightful " (Letter to the Princess Elizabeth, May,
1645). How can this be doubted when we remember that "we have only
to judge rightly, and to judge as correctly as possible, in order to acquire
all the virtues and all the advantages and goods attainable ? " (Disc, de la
Me'thode, 3rd part). " Omnis peccans est ignorans. If our understanding
never represented to the will as good the things that are the contrary,
the will could never be mistaken in its choice " (Letter, April, 1637).
This being the case, the ethical problem takes the form of a
scientific problem. We must not consent to pursue pleasures
that we perceive confusedly, we must not accept a thing as
good unless we see plainly that it is so ; in a word, we must
be on our guard against confused ideas, and be guided only by
those that are clear. The problem then is how to determine
the order of perfections, how to make a science of the different
kinds of good, and of their relative value. But Descartes
never constructed such a science. He was content to show
that passion exaggerates the worth of the pleasures it seeks,
and to lay down this general rule: Pleasures of the mi ml
which depend on ourselves, so far surpass those of the body
that they alone are sufficient to our happiness. Science being
56 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
incapable of entering into particulars, cannot take the place of
conscience ; each one of us has independently to strive after
the best, which, like the true, is apprehended on evidence.
And since life allows no delays we must be content to possess
a good will. We have seen that Descartes leads us from good
will to right reason, and now, from right reason, we find
ourselves thrown back on good will.
But the contradiction is only apparent, for knowledge is
closely connected with freedom, since judgment is a voluntary
act, and to affirm or to deny is to will. Knowledge both pre-
supposes and flows from freedom. I owe the truth to myself,
and am to a certain extent responsible for my errors. The
Supreme Good is good will, which alone depends on ourselves ;
but good will is nothing else than the will " to make the best
possible use of our minds in order to know what to do and
what to avoid on every occasion in life " {Letter to the
Princess Elizabeth, 1st May, 1645). Good will is our most
precious possession ; it justifies our actions abundantly to
ourselves and before God, and it insures to us inward content-
ment ; but only through the intellect is true wisdom attained.
Wisdom implies knowledge. Wisdom should be our ideal, which
it is the duty of every man to get as near to as possible ; and
the inward satisfaction which comes from this striving after
the best constitutes our happiness.
This would appear to be a solution of the ethical problem.
But may not the vicissitudes of life throw the soul back again
into the bondage of pain ? Man lives in a world in which
events occur over which he has no control ; how can it be
said that he depends on himself alone ? Descartes tries to
eliminate such unforeseen events from the problem of life, by
considering man in his relation to the world and to God.
Let us remember, he saj^s, that everything in the universe
happens mechanically, according to inflexible laws, and we shall
endeavour to change the nature of our desires rather than the
order of the world. Fortune is " merely a chimera, born of an
error in our understanding" (Pass. II, 145). If we were once
convinced that when we have done all that lies in our power the
advantages we do not possess are all equally beyond our reach,
" we should no more desire health, when ill, or freedom, when
in prison, than we now do bodies as incorruptible as diamonds,
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 57
or wings with which to fly like birds " (Disc, dc la M6th. 3rd
part). The consciousness of a universal necessity delivers us
from all superfluous regrets or desires.
But as evil exists none the less for being necessary, this
submission to the laws of the universe resembles a defeat.
There would appear to be something which evades the good and
the intelligible. Yes, if we forget that everything depends on
God, that everything is arranged by His Providence. We
cannot penetrate into the ways of God, but we know that
they express the highest perfection ; and when we have acted
as we thought best, this knowledge should make us feel con-
tent, whatever our fate may be.
"The true object of love being perfection, when we lift up our minds to
consider God as He is, we feel ourselves naturally so strongly disposed to
love Him that we derive joy even from our afflictions, remembering that,
in all that happens to us His will is fulfilled" (Letter to the Princess
Elizabeth, 13th June, 1645). " Thus it is that man, uniting his will to that
of God, loves Him in so perfect a manner as to desire nothing more in
this world but that the will of God be done. Consequently, he no longer
fears either death, or pain, or disgrace, knowing that nothing can befall
him that has not been appointed by God, and he has so great a love for
the divine ordinance, he deems it so just and so necessary, he knows
himself to be so dependent on it, that even when he is expecting death or
some other evil, if the impossible were to happen, and he found he had
the power to alter this decree, he would not have the desire to do so "
(Letter to M. Chanut).
Having thus fused our will with that of God, we participate
in His omnipotence, and nothing occurs without our willing
it. Happiness is the reward of virtue; and man's supreme
good depends on man himself.
" It is certain that if a man who is well born, in good health, and in
want of nothing, at the same time is as wise and virtuous as another who
is poor, unhealthy, and deformed, he may enjoy a more complete content-
ment than the poor man. Nevertheless, as a small vessel may be as full
as a large one, though containing less liquid, so also, taking the content-
ment of each individual to lie in the fulness and satisfaction of his desires,
I have no doubt that, when these are regulated according to reason, the
poorest man and the least favoured by fortune and nature may be as
entirely content and satisfied as other men" (Letter to the Princess
Elizabeth, 1st May, 1645). "By the internal felicity which good will
of itself produces, we may hinder all the evils that come Eroni without
58 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
however great, from going any deeper into our souls than does the
sadness excited by actors when they represent some tragic event"
{Letter to the Princess Elizabeth, March, 1646).
Life's external order may be disturbed by accidents, but not
the inward harmony of the soul ; for accidents are necessary, and
since they are part of God's purpose, we should not only accept
but desire them. Hence nothing can happen that is contrary
to our desire. To make our will and our understanding one
with the will and understanding of God in this lies the whole
of morality.
In this way, then, our soul, which was at first threatened with
bondage, becomes free; the passions which it experiences are no
longer the expression of the affections of the body; its love being
no longer the effect of the course of the animal spirits, is born
of an act of judgment which disposes the soul to become attached
in will to the things that it deems good (Pass. II, 79). Its joys,
which are purely intellectual, spring from its own activity
alone. Not only is the soul no longer the expression of the
body, but their relations are reversed. It is now the body that
expresses the soul by its movements, and becomes its slave.
There is a passion that corresponds to virtue true nobility,
which causes a man to form as high an opinion of himself
as he legitimately can. Nobility is the bodily expression of
virtue. It consists of right notions and principles of morality,
enforced by the action of the animal spirits. Even that highest,
most spiritual kind of love, the love of God, may become
a passion, and affect the course of the spirits. Thus the soul
is its own mistress because its thoughts depend on itself
alone, and it is mistress of the body because the body is
the expression of the soul, and only gives back to it, under
the form of passions, its own acts and thoughts. Finally, the
soul is mistress of the world because it is united to God by
love, and participates, therefore, in His will and sovereign
power.
Malebranche : Patios of Perfection ; Love of the Universal
Order.
A science of goods and of their relative value remained a
desideratum in the ethical system of Descartes, who contented
himself with saving that the Good, as well as the True, is dis-
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 59
covered by the light of evidence. Malebranche in his Ethics
develops this idea, which was merely suggested by Descartes.
There are two kinds of relation between things : a relation of
magnitude and a relation of perfection. The former has to do
with truth, the latter with order ; the former bears on pure
science, the latter on Ethics.
If the human intellect, fashioned diversely by custom and
education, and different at different periods, is able to discover this
immutable order, it is because there is in it a divine impersonal
element, namely, reason, the Eternal Word by which all minds
are united. Reason is the Divine voice speaking in us, and he
who listens not to it falls into error and disorder. " He who
values his horse more than his coachman, and he who thinks
that a stone has in itself a greater worth than a fly or the
smallest organism, does not perceive what perhaps he imagines
himself to perceive; for it is not universal reason, but individual
reason, that leads him to judge things so" {Morale, I, i, 13).
Again, it is because universal reason is not followed that
morality differs in different countries and at different periods.
" Thus with the Germans it is virtuous to be able to drink. One can
have no intercourse with them if one does not get drunk. It is not
reason but wine that binds society together, and makes settlements and
contracts " (Morale, I, ii, 7).
Love of the order in things is the only virtue. Actions
that are merely in conformity with this order, namely, duties
(the KaOyKovra of the Stoics), are to be distinguished from
those which are inspired by the love of this order, namely,
virtues.
" We must not, owing to the agreement between the terms, confuse
virtues with duties. Men are deceived by this. Some there are who
imagine that they are following virtue when they only follow the natural
inclination which they have to fulfil certain duties ; and as they are by no
means led by reason, they are in fact excessively vicious the while they
imagine themselves heroes of virtue" (Morale, I, ii, 6). "He who gives
his fortune to the poor, either through vanity or natural compassion, is
not liberal, because he is not led by reason ; and his action is not inspired
by love of the order of things, but is the result of pride or of a merely
natural tendency " (Ibid. i).
Virtue, therefore, is more than submission pure and simple
to the order of things. It is submission through love
60 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
of this order. It is, moreover, not an actual and momentary
obedience, but one that is continuous and has grown into a
habit. " Virtue is a habitual, free, and dominating love of the
immutable order " {Ibid. I, iii, 20).
To love this order is to love beings and things in proportion
to their perfection, and is therefore, in the first place, to love
God, Who is absolute perfection, above all things ; and,
secondly, to love all other things only according to their rela-
tion to God ; or, better still, to love only God in them, that is
to say, the perfection in them which makes them worthy of
love. The love of order is therefore union with God, by con-
formity of mind and will.
As God necessarily loves order and all things according to
this order, He loves Himself above everything, and next to
Himself His creatures, in so far as He finds Himself in them,
that is to say, according to the degree of being and perfection
which they possess. There are two kinds of love, the one
kindness or esteem, the other the love of union. The first
consists in loving things only in so far as they are lovable ; the
latter consists in giving oneself wholly, without reserve, to the
beloved object, or, in a word, in uniting oneself with it {Ibid. I,
iii, 8). God alone deserves to be loved in this way, because
He is perfection. He is the Good in itself, and He alone also
is the efficient cause of all the actions of His creatures. It is
therefore in Him only that we must love His creatures. It is
according to His will and His law that we must measure out
to them the love which is benevolence.
This is the principle that governs practical morality. The
law of God and of all things in Him is the sovereign rule of
conduct, as vision in God is the law of knowledge. Man
should only love in himself that which makes him worthy of
love in the eyes of God. Season is God present in us. We
are the temples in which His wisdom dwells, and in which He
desires to be adored. We should fight against everything in
us that is an obstacle to reason against the senses, the
imagination, the passions {Ibid. II, xi, xii, xiii). The
cultivation of reason is homage rendered to God. Attention
is a natural prayer, by means of which we receive illumination
from reason. " Strength and freedom of mind, which consist
in being disposed to seek and follow truth, and to accept it
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 61
solely on evidence, are virtues and cardinal virtues " (Ibid.
I, vi, 5).
Social morality is inspired by the same spirit as private
morality. Our love for others must be regulated by their
relation to God. The sovereign is the man among all others
who has the highest place in our esteem, because he is nothing-
less than the representative of God on earth. In his presence,
not only our bodies but our minds should be bowed down in
reverence. We must humble ourselves and respect the
greatness and majesty of God in the power of the prince
(Ibid. II, ix, 2). But the lowest among men is also worthy
of our goodwill and our esteem.
" We must not only respect and show respect to the lowest among men,
and to the poor, but also to sinners and to those who commit the worst
crimes. Their lives are abominable, their conduct is contemptible, but
their persons are still deserving of respect " (Ibid. II, vii, 4).
And this is because they have never ceased to be the temples
of Jesus Christ and to form with us part of an eternal society
in God. Even the child should be to his parents an object of
respect, no less than of affection. He should not be governed
by force, but his feeble reason should be led by gentle
persuasion.
"Let no father imagine, that as a father, he has an absolute and
independent authority over his son. He only is a father through the
efficacy of God's power, and he should only govern according to His law "
(Ibid. II, x, 18).
Thus all duties have their principle in the love of God,
which is the only virtue, though it takes various forms
corresponding exactly with our various duties.
Spinoza ; Determinism; There is no Absolute Good or Evil ;
The Good for Man ; Theory of Goods ; Bondage and Freedom.
Spinoza a Utilitarian and Mystic.
The consciousness of a universal necessity which is only one
element, or moment, in the Ethics of Descartes, is the first
principle and the end of morality with Spinoza, who makes
no distinction between this consciousness and the love of God.
In this as in other respects Spinoza's doctrine is Cartesiaiiism
made logical, simplified, and impoverished. It is remarkable
62 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
that the principal work of Spinoza should be a theory of
Ethics, seeing that he denies both freedom and the existence
of good and evil. Human actions, according to him, are
governed by an inflexible mechanism. The belief in free will
is an illusion and a folly. Indignation against the wicked is
childishness. A madman is no more bound to live according
to the dictates of reason than the cat is bound to live accord-
ing to the laws of a lion's nature (Theol, Pol. Ch. XVI).
But if we are necessarily subject to the laws of our nature,
may we not lay the blame of our sins and misfortunes on
God ? No.
"Men are in God's power as clay is in the hands of the potter, who from
the same lump makes vessels some to honour some to dishonour " (Rom.
IX, 21). " No one can bring a complaint against God for having given
him a weak nature or infirm spirit. A circle might as well complain
to God of not being endowed with the properties of a sphere, or a child
who is tortured, say, with stone, for not being given a healthy body, as
a man of feeble spirit because God has denied to him fortitude and the
true knowledge and love of the Deity, or because he is endowed with
so weak a nature that he cannot check or moderate his desires " (Letters to
Oldenburg, 23 and 25).
To desire things to be otherwise than they are, to chafe
against nature, is to fail to recognize that all that is is neces-
sary, and is of necessity that which it is.
On the other hand, that which is necessary cannot fail to be
good, and, from the ethical point of view, necessity should be
called God, Providence, or Wisdom. Thus every event is
justified by the very fact of its occurrence which is in imme-
diate connection with the supreme necessity. The distinction
between good and evil has no absolute value : " For we all
admire in animals qualities which we regard with dislike and
aversion in men, such as the pugnacity of bees, the jealousy of
doves " (Letter to Blyenbergh). The moral sanction is not
founded on responsibility, but is a consequence of the necessary,
fixed order of things.
'&'-
" He who goes mad from the bite of a dog is assuredly excusable, yet
he is rightly suffocated. Lastly, he who cannot govern his desires and
keep them in check from fear of the laws, though his weakness may
be excusable, cannot, nevertheless, enjoy either peace of soul or the
knowledge and love of God, but necessarily perishes " (Letter to
Oldenburg, 25).
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 63
In one sense, therefore, there is for Spinoza neither good nor
evil ; but it does not follow that because the same explanation
serves for all things, all things are to be regarded as identical
or equal. Tout expliquer n'est pas tout confondre. There
are things that may be called good or useful, bad or harmful,
according as they increase or diminish our perfection, that is to
say, according as they bring us nearer to God or lead us
further away from Him. Thus, in so far as we perceive that a
thing affects us with pleasure or sorrow we call it good or evil
(Ethics IV, Prop. viii). Pantheism, which justifies the existence
of all things, is careful not to despise the lower kinds
of good.
"Therefore to make use of what comes in our way and to enjoy it as
much as possible (not to the point of satiety, for that would not be enjoy-
ment) is the part of a wise man. I say it is the part of a wise man to
refresh and recreate himself with moderate and pleasant food and drink,
and also with perfumes, with the soft beauty of growing plants, with
dress and with music, with many sports, with theatres and the like, such
as every man may make use of without injury to his neighbour" (Ibid.
Prop. XIV, note).
Joy is good, the gloomy meditations of the mystic are
foolishness. "A free man thinks of nothing less than of
death ; and his wisdom is a meditation not of death but of
life" (Ibid. Prop. XLVII). While he approves all kinds of
pleasure, Spinoza does not omit to determine the value of each
one in particular, and to give it a place according to its utilit \
or, what comes to the same thing, according to its degree of
being or perfection. " There is no small difference between the
joy which actuates, say, a drunkard, and the joy possessed by a
philosopher" (Ibid. Ill, Prop. LVII, note). In this way Spinoza
establishes a dialectic, or a hierarchy of goods.
The good is freedom, evil is bondage, and the degrees of
perfection are indicated by the degrees of freedom. Bondage
means subjection to the passions, or life according to appetite.
Appetite, being connected with the imagination and the senses,
has for its object the goods that are present, trivial, and
fleeting. The man who yields to these is swayed by inadequate
and confused ideas. Freedom, on the other hand, consists in
living under the dominion of reason, which conceives tilings
under the form of eternity (sub specie aetcmitatis) and is attracted
64 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
by future goods as well as by those which are present and
immediate. Reason makes known to each one what is in con-
formity to his nature and useful to him. Lastly, reason has
for its object an imperishable good, namely, knowledge, and more
especially knowledge of the eternal truths. But Spinoza can
only show us the means by which man becomes free, that is,
knowledge ; we cannot make ourselves free, we only know how
freedom comes to us.
" An emotion which is a passion ceases to be a passion as soon as we
form a clear and distinct idea thereof" {Ethics, V, Prop. III). " An emotion,
therefore, becomes more under our control, and the mind is less passive in
respect to it, in proportion as it is more known to us" {Ibid. Coroll). "But
what is it to know things if not to understand their necessity % The mind
has greater power over the emotions and is less subject thereto in so far
as it understands all things as necessary " {Ibid. Prop. VI).
In governing our passions we make our desires as well as
our thoughts conform to the order of the universe. Freedom
is the identification of ourselves with the universal necessity,
for we become free through knowledge, and knowledge is
participation in Being, and as there is only one Being, with
the necessary Being.
With Spinoza, as with Parmenides and Plato, thought is
identical with its object; so that, in so far as it possesses know-
ledge of eternal truth, the mind is itself eternal, and in so far
as it extends this knowledge it also increases its share of
immortality. In like manner, to know God is to participate
in His essence ; and if man, having reached the term of his
moral development, is truly free, it is because, being then
united to God by intellectual intuition, he is himself God, and
forms part of the supreme necessity, which is called freedom
because it develops only according to the law of its own nature.
Freedom for man consists, therefore, in being one with God,
with the Being, that is, who, considered as He is in Himself, is
to be called necessary, but considered in His relation to other
things, which are merely the modes of His activity, is to be
called free.
Spinoza liked to join together contrary terms, such as
freedom and necessity. Following his example, one may say of
him that he was at the same time, and without inconsistency,
both a utilitarian and a mystic ; for he gives as the principle of
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 65
his Ethics now the tendency of a being to persevere and to perfect
himself in his being the love of self; now the intellectual love
of God. The reason of this is that to him these two kinds of
love are only one. It is the nature of man to know, and the
object of knowledge is Being in all its degrees and in all its
forms, but principally in its highest form, which is the Eternal
and the Divine. " Hence the mind's greatest good is the know-
ledge of God, and the mind's highest virtue is to know God"
IV, Prop. XXVIII). But to know God is to love Him, for Love
is nothing else than joy accompanied by the idea of its object.
Again, to love God is to love one's self, and to love one's self
the more according as one is in a manner more fully one's self ;
since he who has reached the term of knowledge has also
reached the highest development of his own nature. Thus the
love of self leads to the love of God, and the love of God is
only a higher form of self-love.
But having described the Ethical theory of Spinoza as a higher
kind of Utilitarianism, we must now, with apparent self-contra-
diction, show that from another point of view his system is
characterized by a noble disinterestedness. For he repudiates
as servile the virtue that is based merely on the fear of hell or
on the hope of another life. He cannot adequately express his
contempt for the common opinion according to which " piety,
religion, and generally all things attributable to firmness of mind
are burdens which after death men hope to lay aside" (V,
Prop. XLI, note). What an insult to morality is this shameful
fear of the tortures of Hell, which makes so many unfortunate
men bear the "crushing burden of piety!" and how much
nobler and more pure, according to Spinoza, is the notion which
he would have us form of virtue ! " Even if we did not know
that our mind is eternal, we should still consider as of primary
importance piety and religion, and generally all things which
we have shown to be attributable to com ago and high-
mindedness " (V, XLI). Are we to understand by this that,
like Kant, Spinoza regards virtue and happiness as antagonistic,
so that the one requires the sacrifice of the other? On the
contrary, he holds that the all-wise necessity by which the
world is governed has inseparably linked happiness with
the life that is rational and free, and he finds man's happiness
in perfection and virtue alone.
II. E
66 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
" Blessedness is not the reward of virtue, but virtue itself ; neither do
we rejoice therein because we control our lusts, but contrariwise, it is
because we rejoice therein that we are able to control our lusts " (V, XLIL).
To sum up : the happy life, the free, rational, or divine life for
all these terms correspond to the different points of view from
which the one and the same thing may be considered is the
development of the human mind according to its special nature,
its progress towards its end, namely, the knowledge and the love
of God.
We have considered the human mind in its individual
development only ; but it has merely to obey the laws of its own
nature in order to be in harmony with other minds. Where
morality prevails the rules of social life are observed. What
divides men is their appetites, because these are directed
towards objects which cannot be shared, as for example wealth.
In setting the life of reason above the life of appetite, morality,
although occupied solely with the perfection of the individual,
serves by way of reaction the social interest. Eeason unites
men : it is passion that divides them, for the object of reason
is God, who gives Himself to all without reserve, and com-
municates Himself without losing Himself. Nay, it is in the
nature of this Supreme Good, which is called the knowledge
and the love of God, to grow, in a manner, by the common
possession of it.
" This love towards God cannot be stained by the emotion of envy or
jealousy : contrariwise it is the more fostered as we conceive a greater
number of men to be joined to God by the same bond of love" (Part V,
Prop. XX).
Thus the love of God is the binding force in social life, and
therefore the principle on which the whole of morality depends
Ethics of Leibnitz : The Sovereign Good ; The Moral Instinct
and Reason ; Nature and Grace ; Theory of Love.
Leibnitz, like Spinoza and Malebranche, regards perfection
as the end of morality, and intelligence as the principle of per-
fection. According to him, the fact that our actions are
psychologically determined does not deprive them of their
moral character, any more than the fact that our judgments
are psychologically determined prevents them from being true
or false. Just as we need logic for the direction of our under-
THE ETHICAL PEOBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 67
standing, so also do we need an ethical system for the guidance
of our will. The natural good of a being consists in its
perfection.
" All that elevates the soul I call perfection. Perfection consists in the
force of action ; and as there is in every being a certain force, the greater
the force the higher and more free is its essence. Moreover, the greater
a force is the more manifest is plurality in unity in it. Now the one in
the many is nothing else than harmony, and from harmony beauty springs,
and beauty engenders love " ( Ueber die Gliickseligkeit, Erdmann's Edn.
p. 672).
The perfection of a rational being is measured by the sum
of his distinct perceptions {Letter to Wolff). Moral good is
therefore the striving after knowledge, the cultivation of reason,
the continuous progress from confused to distinct perceptions.
Pleasure for a livins; being is nothing else than its consciousness
of perfection, and perfection and happiness are identical terms.
Moral life is therefore the continuous passage from a lesser to
a greater perfection, and hence the progressive conquest of
happiness. There is thus a foundation of good in the nature
of the object itself, and it is the natural good which becomes
moral good when will is added. Bonum naturalc quum est
voluntarium est bonum morale (Ibid.).
Nature of itself leads man to his end, that is, to happiness,
for nature inclines us to pursue joy and avoid sorrow (A'< w
Essays, I, II, 1). Now joy is a sign of our free development
and advancement towards perfection. Inclination to pleasure
implies therefore a desire for perfection vaguely and confusedly
felt, but real and effectual; and nature, whence this desire
comes to us, is found to be virtually moral. So there exists
further a general social instinct, an affection between the male
and female, between father and children, "which are part of
this natural law, or this image of law, which, according to the
Koman juris consulti, nature has taught the animals" (Ibid. '.).
Does morality consist, then, in following Nature? Rousseau's
doctrine was criticised in advance by Leibnitz. Inst hid, being
entirely concerned with the present, is not ;i sale guide.
"For felicity is only a lasting joy; our inclination, however, does
not tend to felicity proper, but to joy, that is to say, to the present. It is
reason which prompts to future and enduring welfare" (Ibid. :i).
Moreover, instinct is blind : "the appetitions, called in the schools motus
68 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
primo primi, are like the natural tendency of the stone, which goes by the
most direct, but not always the best path towards the centre of the earth ;
for it is not able to see beforehand that it will meet rocks, upon which
it will break in pieces, while it would approach its end more directly
if it had mind, and the means of turning aside from them. Thus it is
that by going straight for present pleasure we sometimes fall over the
precipice of unhappiness " (Ibid. II, XXI, 36).
In short, instinct is confused perception, which should make
way for perception that is distinct. The impressions which
nature has given us are only helps to reason, and should not
take the place of reason. It is not enough for us that we are
prompted to acts of humanity by instinct, or because it pleases us ;
we must further be induced to do them by our reason and
because it is just {New Essays, I, II, 4). All these innate
principles which we feel and approve even when we have no
proof of them, should be converted into fixed maxims, into
distinct truths.
Leibnitz is not one of those philosophers who see in
instinct the enemy of reason; but he reconciles them although
he also distinguishes between them. The former belongs to
every kind of soul, the latter is the privilege of spirits or
rational souls. One leaves us in the physical realm of
nature, the other admits us into the moral realm of grace.
Instinct has moral value only in so far as it leads to reason ;
in the same way, nature is sanctified by preparing the way for
grace, by contributing through its laws to the triumph of
justice.
" We should also notice here another harmony between the physical
kingdom of nature and the moral kingdom of grace ; that is, between God
considered as the architect of the mechanism of the universe, and God
considered as monarch of the divine city of spirits " (Monadology, 87).
" And therefore sins, by the decree of nature and by virtue even of the
mechanical structure of things, must carry their punishment with them,
and in the same way good actions will obtain their rewards by
mechanical ways through their relation to bodies, although this may not,
and ought not always to happen immediately " (Ibid. 89).
But the harmony between the two realms does not go so
far as to make them identical ; God does not look in the same
way on souls which are merely mirrors of the universe, " and on
spirits which are His own image." To the former, He is only
" what an inventor is to his machines " ; to the latter, He is
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 69
" what a prince is to his subjects, or even a father to his
children " (Monadology, 84). Eeason is infinitely higher than
nature ; it hrings us nearer to God and in a manner makes ns
participate in His creative power, for " our soul is architectonic
in its voluntary actions, and, discovering the sciences according
to which God has regulated things (pondere, mensura, nurnero,
etc.) it imitates in its department and in the little world where
it is permitted to exercise itself, what God does in the large
world " {Principles of Nature and Grace, 14). Again, reason
makes us enter into a " sort of society with God," and places
us under the laws of that perfect government of spirits in
which no good action goes unrewarded, and no wicked action
unpunished.
Finally, reason is both the Absolute Good and our individual
good. Eeason constitutes our essence, and morality, whose
object is the development of our individual perfection, is the
same thins as the cultivation of reason in us. We shall have
reached moral perfection when our soul has risen to distinct
perception, for the violent desires of blind passion will always
have less force than the persuasive sweetness of enlightened
reason.
" If a truth has no effect on the mind it is because it has not been given
the degree of distinctness of which it is capable. In spite of appearances
truth is the strongest thing in the world, provided we are not content to
consider it from the outside and merely to call it by its name, but pene-
trate into its recesses and perceive distinctly the logic and harmony
contained in it" (Erdmann's Edn. 269, a).
The more our reason is developed, and the further it-
extends, the more also will it unite itself with all that is.
Tike every other monad, our mind is a mirror of the universe.
The more it becomes conscious of its own true nature, the
more also will it become conscious of its relation to other
beings: Hence according as it advances towards perfection
it rejoices more and more in the perfection and the jo\ of
other beings. In other words, the more perfect it becomes, the
more it loves. To love or to cherish, is to rejoice in tin'
happiness of others, or what comes to the same thing, it is to
make the happiness of another one's own. Amare sive
dilicjere est felicitate alterius delectare, vel quoit eodem redit,feli
tern alienam adsciscere in suam (Be notione jur. et just. Erdm.
70 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
p. 118). Love is disinterested, since we feel the happiness
of him whom we love as our own, and consequently we
enjoy his happiness directly, without thinking of any ulterior
advantage. This love is at first bestowed on other men, for
nothing is more natural to us than to take part in their perfec-
tion and their joy, but it is in God that love finds its supreme
object. The love of God is disinterested, for it is caused by
no sensible attraction, and at the same time it is our greatest
good, our nearest interest, for God is our good and our
perfection.
" God being the most perfect, and the most happy, and consequently
the most lovable of substances, and truly pure love consisting in the state
which finds pleasure in the perfections and happiness of the beloved
object, this love ought to give us the greatest pleasure of which we are
capable, when God is its object . . . from the present time on, the law of
God makes us enjoy a foretaste of future felicity ... it gives us perfect
confidence in the goodness of our Author and Master, producing a true
tranquillity of mind, not like the Stoics, who force themselves to patience,
but by a present content which assures us a future happiness " {Principles
of Nature and Grace," 16, 18).
To love God is to rise to the comprehension of His goodness,
to understand that the world, being governed by Him, cannot
be anything but good ; that it is at least the best of all possible
worlds ; and if order has not at the present moment been
realized, everything must finally result for the well being of
the good, that is of those who are not discontented in this great
State, who having done their duty, trust in Providence
{Monadology, 90). Underlying the ethical system of Leibnitz
we recognize his metaphysical optimism. In declaring that
life is good, he only gives expression to the general thesis of
which his whole ethical system is the proof. Life is good
because everything in it has its reason, because, as we have
seen, nature, passion, and the senses, rightly viewed, are not
contrary nor even foreign to morality, because the individual
good, the oiiceiov epyov of Aristotle, is not in conflict with the
Absolute Good of which Plato speaks, because enlightened
egoism finds its own advantage in love, because happiness is
not in reality distinct from perfection ; in short, because every-
where we find harmony, that is to say, the regular progress of
all things towards good, towards supreme happiness.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 71
Utilitarian Systems. Hobbes: Individual Interest. Helvetius:
Agreement between Individual and General Interest.
All the Cartesians looked for the principle of virtue and
happiness in reason. With them, the supreme good consists in
knowledge of the Absolute, which unites us to God, and makes
our will one with His. The Empirics thought to find in some
particular fact, such as the love of pleasure, or the moral
instinct, or sympathy, the principle which, when followed out,
suffices for the organization of private and social life. Hobbes
lays down clearly the principle of utilitarianism, and from it
deduces with the utmost rigour his main dogmas. Sensa-
tion he declares to be the criterion of good. Hence the good
is pleasure, and pleasure is a motion " helping vital action "
(juctmdum a juvanclo), a motion which appears in conscious-
ness under the form of desire. The value of things i>
measured by the desire they engender, and their comparative
excellence by the intensity of this desire. Again, it is in
desire and not in possession that the good lies. In a general
way pleasure does not consist "in the repose of a mind
satisfied," but " in a continual progress of the desire from one
object to another, the attaining to the former being still but
the way to the latter.''" Actual pleasure is the never-ceasing-
renewal of desire in us. Thus Hobbes returns to the Cyrenaic
doctrine: Pleasure lies in motion, it is motion itself. Bonorum
maximun ad fines semper ulterior es minime impedita progrcxsio.
As he recognized no other good but the physical pleasure
which results from the laws of life, or rather, which is life
itself, he might have said of pleasure what he said of life, that
it is a perpetual motion which, when it cannot advance in a
straight line, becomes a circular motion.
But Hobbes takes a higher point of view than Aristippus,
for, instead of accepting the present pleasure just as it comes.
he takes into consideration the good and evil resulting from it.
and he teaches that conduct should be regulated with a view
to the useful. For a thing may not in itself be good which
yet becomes so because it is conducive to happiness. Thus
power may in itself not be delightful, hut it has the effect of
making others peaceably disposed towards us: it protects us
against envy and malice: it compels respect; it wins for us
good will and love, and all these advantages make it desirable
72 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
and good. In the same way, human society, which was in the
beginning merely a state of helium, omnium contra omnes,
becomes, when for the blind pursuit of pleasure is substituted the
intelligent pursuit of the useful, a state of peace and order in
which the individual in return for his independence, which he
has forfeited, obtains an advantage that is much more real,
namely, security. Inasmuch as it saves us from the miseries
of a state of nature, society is advantageous and useful, and
therefore good.
At the same time, the interest by which, according to
Hobbes, our actions should be guided, is always individual
interest homo homini lupus ; and the instinctive hatred which
men bear to their fellow-creatures may be veiled by politeness
and education but cannot be obliterated, and the proof of it is,
the pleasure in backbiting that prevails in conversation (Be
Give., Pref.). But our hatred for others flows from self-love.
As soon as they serve our interest they become lovable, and as
man hates his fellowmen on account of the injury they have
caused him, he may love them on account of the advantages he
derives from them. We may act benevolently towards others
because it is an egoistical, and therefore a natural satisfaction
to feel that we have the power to make not only our own
happiness but that of others. Pity for others in their mis-
fortunes is the fear we have that the like calamity may befall
ourselves. Finally, when we recognize the superiority of a
person and his power to injure us, it is right to honour him.
Thus Hobbes is far from making benevolence arise out of self-
love, like Bentham ; the general interest has no importance
in his eyes except in so far as it promotes the individual
interest. His doctrine is one of exclusive egoism.
The doctrines of Helvetius were at once a continuation and
a contradiction of Hobbism. He adopted the premisses of
Hobbes and rejected all his conclusions. Self-love was the
only rule he recognized. " The moral universe is as com-
pletely subject to the laws of interest as the physical
universe to the laws of motion " (Be I 'Esprit, II, 2). But
while to Hobbes the cause of division and hatred was the
interest of the individual, Helvetius discovered, in the working
of the laws of this interest, the principles of tolerance and of
sympathy.
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 73
" Men are not wicked, but they are the slaves of their own interests
(Ibid. Ch. II, 5). We must take them as they are ; to be vexed by the
effects of their self-love would be like complaining of an April shower.
. . . Men are what they must be ; all hatred of them is unjust ; fools
bring forth folly as a wilding bears bitter fruit . . . the humane man
is he to whom the sight of another's misfortune is unbearable, and who
to escape from this sight is compelled, so to speak, to succour the
unfortunate."
Benevolence is therefore a matter of nerves. He who
acts kindly thinks only of his own relief. While obeying
the dictates of his heart he is ruled by his own interest.
This interest may change so as to bring about alternately
virtue and vice, and just as it inspires different courses of
action, it also gives rise to contradictory opinions. In the
eyes of him w r hom he condemns a judge is always unjust, and
in the opinion of him in whose favour he decides he is always
just. Hence if morality did no more than prescribe regard
to self-interest, there would be no certain rule for it. There
are two paramount interests which conflict with one another :
the individual, and the general interest.
" Hence the main object of moralists should be to determine the proper
use of rewards and punishments, and to discover how these can be employed
in order to connect the personal with the general interest. This union
is the supreme end which the science of Ethics should set before itself.
If citizens could not attain their own happiness without at the same time
furthering the public good, the only evildoers would be the madmen ; all
men would be compelled to be virtuous, and the felicity of nations would
be a blessing bestowed upon them by moral science" (De V Esp. II, 22).
Thus Helvetius calls upon the law to assist morality. To
expect men to practise altruism through disinterested good-
will is only a dream of the mystics, who refuse to see that
self-interest is the only force by which the human machine is
worked. Nothing less than the threats of the law are needed
for the prevention through fear of every action contrary to the
public good, and if it were not for the honour and esteem by
winch the public repays services rendered to it, heroism would
disappear. But if morality cannot do without the support of
the law, the law, on the other hand, must turn to morality for
instruction. According to Hobbes, it is enough if the decrees of
legislation are upheld by force, but Helvetius demands that these
decrees be further justified by reason, that, is to say, that they
74 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
be always in accordance with the interests of the people (Dc
V Esprit, II, 17). Is not this, moreover, the surest way of
causing force to be on the side of the law ? To sum up :
according to Helvetius, self-interest demands a sanction for all
the rules of morality. This sanction acts by way of restraint
or of opinion. " Reward, punishment, honour, or disgrace being
all in the dispensation of the legislator, are four kinds of
divinities by which he may always promote the public good "
{Ibid. II, 22). The sanction of opinion differs only in
appearance from the legal sanction, for the decisions of the
former also represent the thought of the legislator, who,
by education, directs and forms men's consciences, and thus
gives to morality its watchword.
Bentham : Moral Arithmetic ; General Happiness.
Bentham, who was a disciple of Hobbes and of Helvetius..
and a jurist as well as a philosopher, gave by his profound
analysis of the different kinds of pleasure, a new development
to utilitarianism, the principles of which he, moreover, applied
to jurisprudence. The maxim, which according to him should
be the starting point in our moral judgments, is derived from
the consideration of the consequences of our actions. Those
actions cannot be called good to which we are moved by a blind
impulse of sympathy, but only those whose pleasurable conse-
quences we know, that is to say, which we foresee will result in
pleasure for us, or at least in more pleasure than pain. There
is, it is true, says Bentham, a strange doctrine, called asceticism,
which represents pleasure as an evil, pain as a good. There
could not be a more absurd paradox. Every pleasure, were
it the most abominable pleasure of the vilest of criminals,
is in itself good, and is bad only owing to a circumstance
external and collateral to it, namely, the risk of painful
consequences which it involves. Although all pleasures are
good, they are not all good in the same degree, and in order
to attain happiness, that is, the largest sum of pleasure possible,
morality teaches us to make a choice between them, and to
regulate this choice according to the quantity of happiness
which each one represents. The determination of the compara-
tive value of pleasures is the object of a science which Bentham
hoped to found, and which he calls moral arithmetic. In this
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES ">
science, pleasures are to be considered, in the first place, with
respect to intrinsic circumstances, which add to or diminish
their value; these are their intensity, duration, certainty,
propinquity, fecundity, purity a pure pleasure means, with
Bentham, one that is not mixed with pain. His moral system,
in quest of the greatest pleasure, chooses the one that
corresponds to the best combination of these divers, and often
contrary relations. But it is not enough that one pleasure
should in itself be preferable to another, it must further
appear to be so to him who is pursuing it. Views of pleasure
do actually differ, according to climate, temperament, age, sex,
character, habits, the development of the mind, and in general
all those things by which the emotions are modified. These
elements also belong to the data of the problems of moral
arithmetic.
Finally, the social consequences of our acts are, in Bentham's
view, those which it is right to consider most especially ;
because the social interest outweighs individual interests, seeing
that it embraces them all. Now, men seldom measure the
social consequences of actions ; in a theft we only perceive the
wrong that is done to the person robbed and indirectly to his
family; we do not notice the evil effect of the alarm caused by
the crime, the yet greater evil which will result from the bad
example ; still less do we suspect the disorganization of society
which every act contrary to the law tends to produce. Bui
if, as Bentham says, the individual interest blends with the
general, if we are to adopt as our ultimate ethical formula tin'
greatest happiness of the greatest number, what a series of
considerations is involved in the smallest voluntary decision!
For instance, private conduct is bound to be in conformity with
the law of political economy, and Ethics then becomes a vast,
complex science which embraces Sociology. Tn order to know
our interest and to make our actions conformable to it.
it was found necessary to undertake a psychological study of
the emotions, and thence to deduce rules for the classification
of pleasures; now we must further dive into the intricate
mechanism of social interests into which the lesser interests of
individuals are merged.
But among political sciences the science of Jurisprudence
is the most closelv connected with Ethics. The Laws are
76 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
provisions made in order to ensure to citizens the greatest
sum of happiness possible. Like the rules of morality they
refer to the interest of all. It is their utility that constitutes
their justice, and their degree of excellence is measured by the
advantage which the public derives from them. The system
of penalties inflicted by the law is justified by the same reason.
All pain is indeed an evil, but this evil is less than that
which it is intended to prevent. While utilitarianism condemns
as a useless suffering expiation pure and simple, which Plato
advocates in the name of justice, it approves the punishment
which the magistrate dispenses not in order to satisfy a desire
for vengeance, but to prevent or to make less frequent the
recurrence of guilty actions. Moreover, the pain of the
punishment should be less than the pain caused by the offence.
The law is at once based upon and limited by utility. Legislation
serves the ends of morality by so combining the motives which
should determine men's desires, as to make them tend to their
greatest good. But the sphere of action of the law is
narrower than that of morals, and this is the distinction
between them ; for laws as a rule can do nothing to prevent
either those bad actions which are their own punishment, or
those which opinion disapproves, or again those which religion
condemns. That he may not waste his power in fighting
abuses which he is unable to prevent, the legislator in such
cases should leave everything to custom, to the habits and to the
prevailing religion, all of which are precious auxiliaries, whose
support it is, moreover, his interest to gain. In this practical
and sensible advice we recognize the jurist who, while building
up an ethical system, has in view, above all, the reform of the
law.
Morality of Sentiment : Moral Sense ; Moral Instinct. Adam
Smith : Sympathy.
The doctrine of moral sentiments, in opposition to utilita-
rianism, denies that there is only room in the human mind for
self-love, and takes the sentiment which is the exact opposite of
self-love, namely sympathy, to be the guide of moral life.
Shaftesbury {Inquiry concerning Virtue and Merit), the first
representative of this doctrine, discovered the existence of a
moral sense which perceives the good and evil in actions, as
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 77
sight perceives whiteness or blackness in objects. This
delicate sense finds more sweetness in the subtle joys of
self-sacrifice than in the brutal satisfactions of egoism. By-
trusting to its guidance we shall find happiness without
seeking it, in the practice of kindness and disinterestedness.
This doctrine of Shaftesbury was developed by Hutcheson
{Inquiry concerning the Original of our Ideas of Virtue: System
of Moral Philosophy). He maintains that the Good and the
Beautiful are immediately perceived by means of two special
senses, which differ from sight and other senses only in that they
are internal. Laying down as a principle the pre-eminence of
our moral sense, Hutcheson assigns to it the direction of our
faculties. For the rest this sense is with him nothing else
than the instinct of benevolence. For he only values actions
inspired by disinterestedness ; and although he allows that some
actions dictated by self-love are innocent and may be forgiven,
he never calls them good.
Hume's ethical doctrine {Inquiry into the Principles of
Morals) was original, but was at the same time connected
with the preceding. He refers the perception and the pursuit
of the good to an instinct. This instinct is not the instinct
of self-love, which reveals to us our own good only, but
humanity, which is a " feeling for the happiness of mankind."
According to Hume the good is equivalent to the useful,
not to the private utility of the agents, but to utility in
general. If our benevolent affections have a higher value than
our selfish inclinations, it is not by virtue of their intrinsic
nature, but of their greater utility; for the former tend to the
good of all men, whereas the latter aim only at the good of one
individual. Private virtues have their own worth, and we rightly
esteem skill and prudence, but benevolence and justice should
be. preferred to them, so that the lesser utility should not
prevail over the greater. Hume's doctrine would appear to lie
merely utilitarian like Bentham's, but the rule of universal
happiness is given by him, not as the result of reason, but on
the faith of an instinct, and in Ethics he would have us follow
the promptings of the heart. It is feeling that draws us to the
general happiness, and it alone can explain moral blame or
approbation.
The theory of moral sentiments appears in its most ingenio
78 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
form in the system of Adam Smith, who founded the rules of
conduct on the psychological laws of sympathy. By sympathy
Adam Smith means the communication to our minds of all the
feelings of others. He remarks, for instance, that it is impossible
to witness the sufferings of others without being affected by
the contagion of this suffering ; that we cannot hear a child's
laughter, or watch the gambols of an animal, without being
instinctively moved to take part in their frolics and games.
Nature has thus joined us in a fellowship with other men, so
that their pleasures and their pains become our pleasures and
pains. Nature has so willed it, moreover, that this feeling of
sympathy should not fail to bring pleasure, and it may be sought
for its own charm. According to Adam Smith this fact in itself
suffices as a foundation for morality. It might seem, it is true,
that the mind nmst be affected by the evil as well as by the
good emotions of others, but this is not the case. The heart
when it follows its natural inclinations is always drawn to the
good. We are less moved by the passion of a violent man
than by the gentle and patient resignation of the victim of his
rage ; but if it is a question of virtuous indignation caused
by horror of vice, we are on the side of him who feels it, and
not on the side of him who is the object of it. Speaking
generally, the impulses of sympathy are always towards what
we call morality, which is merely the expression of the laws of
sympathy. Consequently the following may be laid down as a
practical maxim : We should have only those sentiments and
should perform only those actions which ought to bring the
approbation of our fellow-creatures and gain their sympathy.
But what is the nature of the sympathy which we ought to
deserve ? What are its characteristics ? It should, in the first
place, be pure. Those actions alone are absolutely good which
excite in us an unreserved or unqualified sympathy. Those
which leave a mixed impression may be regarded with suspicion.
Adam Smith adds that this sympathy should be universal, it is
not enough to win the admiration of a friend, or of a small
circle, we should deserve to be admired by all men. Some-
times even we should act in opposition to prejudice and face
public censure, in order to obtain from posterity, which is
the only equitable judge of conduct, a tardy but universal
sympathy, and one that will last for ever. For the value of
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 79
our actions is in proportion to the amount of approbation we
obtain, and it should be our ambition to extend as far as
possible the circle of those who feel affection for us. Jouffroy
sums up the Ethics of Adam Smith thus :
" The goodness of an action is in direct proportion to the approbation
which it excites in other human beings, and the best actions are of such a
nature as to obtain the most pure and universal sympathy possible, in
other words a sympathy unmixed with antipathy, and felt not only by
a few men but by the whole of humanity."
If the actions of others did not sometimes excite in us sym-
pathy and sometimes antipathy, we should have no conception
of the moral value of our own actions. A man alone in the
world would remain ignorant of good and evil, for it is after
we have judged others that we judge ourselves. Experience
has taught us what impressions our actions and our thoughts
would make on others if they were known. Our imagination
can always supply witnesses to our actions ; more than this,
we are at once the spectators and the performers of our own
actions, and we sympathize with our own sentiments as we
should with those of others. If we observe our own actions
as disinterested spectators, and if we grant them the same
degree of approval as we should to the actions of others, the
approbation which we feel for ourselves will be equivalent to
that of our fellow-creatures. Let each one of us then be an
impartial spectator of himself, and let him value the goodness
of his actions according to the amount of sympathy that he
finds in his own heart for them.
Adam Smith's critics remark that after all he refers us to
conscience. Nevertheless, even while he substitutes the im-
partial spectator for the sympathy of men in general, Adam
Smith extracts this second criterion from the first; even whal
is called duty he regards as born of sentiment, and the rales
expressing it are only generalizations of particular decisions
made by the sympathetic instinct (Jouffroy, loc. cit). When
the impartial spectator has once approved of certain con-
duct, what use is there in consulting him in similar cases in
the future? We adhere to the rule which cm bodies our past
experience, and this is called acting according to duty. Tims,
ill hough lie practically substituted for sympathy the rule of
duty, or, the decision of the impartial spectators, Adam Smith
80 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
still remains in theory true to his principle, for he derives
both of these from sympathy.
Kant : Morality based on the Idea of Duty ; Transition from
the Form of the Law to its Matter ; Autonomy of the Will.
So far, as we have seen, philosophers have made morality
rest on the notion of the Supreme Good, which includes both
virtue and happiness. Kant, while recognizing that the
highest good consists of these two elements, makes a dis-
tinction between the Supreme Good, properly so called, and
the moral good. Morality implies absolute disinterested-
ness, and it does not appeal to feeling ; it imposes itself
directly upon the will, and has therefore nothing to do with
the idea of happiness. The Supreme Good is only a
desideratum. Morality implies, indeed, as its postulate, a.
future life which would permit of harmony between virtue
and happiness, but this is the consummation of morality, not
its foundation. In the second place, before Kant, philosophers
treated the idea of law as subordinate to that of the Good. We
should, they taught, aim at that which our reason reveals to
us as our good. We are determined by a rational ideal, or
an end that is consonant with our sensible nature. The
originality of Kant's ethical doctrine lies in his deduction
of the notion of good from the notion of duty, in his deriva-
tion of the contents of the law from the form of the law.
To him belongs the merit of having first given due clearness
to the current notion of laiv or duty, and of having founded
on this principle a new conception of the moral life.
The only thing that can be called good without reservation
is, Kant tells us, the Good Will. The best gifts of nature or
fortune may prove useless, or even pernicious, but a will does
not owe its goodness to the end it seeks. It is good in itself,
and shines with its own splendour, like a precious stone which
derives none of its worth from its utility. Nor is a volition
good on account of the natural disposition by which it may
be determined, even if this be in itself good. An action,
however praiseworthy, if it springs from a natural incli-
nation or lively sympathy, is, nevertheless, not a moral
action. It may be worthy of praise ; it is desirable that
such actions should be encouraged ; it may be a beautiful
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 81
action, but it is not morally good. The distinctive characteristic
of the good will does not lie in its end, nor in the merit of the
will itself, but in the principle according to which it acts,
and in its relation to this principle. Now this principle must
not be drawn from feeling, but from reason: it must not be
material but formal ; otherwise, the principle would be identified
with the end, or with the motives of the action, and con-
sequently would still lack the character of being moral. Finally,
this principle should apply not only to every human will, but
to every rational being. In a word, this principle is a priori,
though it still belongs to practical, not to speculative reason.
It is duty, which we shall now proceed to examine more
closely.
If we were to imagine a will that is not necessarily governed
by reason, but is divided, and alternately determined by formal
principles and material motives, that is, by reason and by sensi-
bility, such a will is not absolutely good. And, as it is not
always or by nature, obedient to reason, the will is in a man-
ner constrained, although only by an entirely moral necessity,
to obey reason. This compulsion of the will by reason is what
Kant calls an imperative. There are several kinds of impera-
tives. Those which demand a certain action, not for the sake of
the action itself, but for the result to be obtained through it,
are hypothetical imperatives: for example, the prescriptions given
by doctors to cure the sick, or those of the poisoner to kill his
victims, are all imperatives, but they are conditional or hypo-
thetical imperatives, that is to say, they are subordinate to
certain ends, and in this respect are all equally good and
useful. In general, the maxims connected with the fulfilment
of our desires, and of the strongest of our desires, which is the
desire for happiness, are hypothetical imperatives. The formula
for this class of imperatives is the well-known maxim, "Who
wills the end wills the means."
l>ut there is an imperative which commands an action, not
for the sake of the result, but for its own sake, and which has
relation only to the principle and the essence of the action;
this is the categorical imperative, the imperative of morality, and
its formula is, " Do your duty, come what will." The first kind
of maxims are, in reality, only counsels or rules) the categorical
imperatives alone deserve the name of laws or commands. It
II. F
82 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
is evident that these rules of skill, the counsels of prudence,
refer always to a certain end, and have value only in so far
as one knows the end and adapts them to it. The practical,
that is, the moral laws, on the contrary, impose themselves
upon us and determine the will to action without regard to
the result. They are immediately evident, so that as soon as
the will perceives these laws, it knows that, as will, it must
obey them. But this implies that these laws impose themselves
on every will, of whatever kind; so that the distinctive charac-
teristic of these laws is their universality, and they may be
resolved into the following formula : " Act on a maxim
which thou canst will to be law universal." Universality
is a sign by which we can infallibly recognize the law of
duty ; for though each one of us, when he violates this
law, is willing that there should be an exception made in
his own case, as not being of great consequence, still he
cannot will that the law should not exist ; for he would not
consent to have it violated by others in their dealings with
him, in the same way as he violates it himself : for instance,
he who robs his neighbour willingly allows himself this infrac-
tion of the law, but he would not admit that it is in a universal
and absolute way permissible to take what belongs to another.
So far, however, we have only arrived at a formula which
expresses the law : we do not yet know anything of its
contents. Every action has an end, even those which do -
not seem to be done for an end ; but we must distinguish '
material ends, or the particular objects of desire, which are
all relative to the particular nature of the faculty of desire,
and the formal or objective ends, which reason sets before every
rational creature as the absolute object of duty. The relative'*
or subjective ends give rise to the hypothetical imperatives, to
those, that is, which command us to seek means which are
relative to certain ends, themselves also relative. Qbje(Jtiv
ends are expressed in a categorical imperative, which com-
mands an action as having an absolute worth on account of
its relation to an absolute end.
Now every rational being is an absolute end, that is to say,
he should never regard himself as a means, but always as an
end. Every time, for instance, that a man follows his inclina-
tions rather than his reason, he treats himself as a means : but
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 83
to be means is the peculiarity of things. Persons, on the contrary
should never be treated this way; they are things-in-them-
selves, and on this account inviolable, and should be respected
by every other will, as well as by themselves. This restricts,
indeed, the liberty of each individual, but at the same time
it protects him, and causes man to be respected by his fellows.
The first formula given by Kant is thus transformed
and must be expressed in these terms : " Act so as to treat
humanity, whether in thyself or in another, always as end,
and never as means." According to this formula our actions
should not only not profane humanity by violating its rights,
but should also be in harmony with humanity, that is, should
tend to its perfection and improvement. From this follows
the distinction between acts of perfect and imperfect obligation.
But as long as we regard the principle of morality as an
external law to which the will is subject, it is impossible to
understand why the will should simply obey it without being
determined by some force or attraction, which would destroy
the universality of the law. Hence the universality of the
moral principle is comprehensible only on condition that it is
not only a law of the will, but a law that the will wills and
contains within itself ; in a word, on condition that it is a
voluntary law of rational beings.
Thus Kant conceives a " kingdom of ends," that is to say, a
certain ideal which includes all rational wills, these being ends
in themselves, and treating one another as such ; and they
are ends in themselves only because they have themselves
instituted a law, and at the same time established it for all
rational wills. This is what Kant calls the autonomy of tin-
will : it is this privilege of participating in the institution of
the universal laws, and of only being obliged to obey laws
that are universal and that nevertheless the rational being
contains within himself, which alone gives to him an intrinsic
and absolute value. This new characteristic of the moral law
is expressed by a new formula, "Act in such a way that the
will can regard itself as in its maxims imposing universal
laws."
Kant's ethical doctrine is to be summed up in the following
three principles : (1) The categorical imperative, (2) Humanity
considered as an end in itself, (3) the autonomy of the will.
84 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
The separation of the idea of duty from all interested
motives ; the absolute obligatoriness of the law, quite apart
from its end ; the universality of this law ; man regarded as
inviolable, inasmuch as he is a free and rational being :
finally, the law itself as having its principle in the inner being
and essence of the moral agent, and never as the result of a
force or power that is external and not ratified and confirmed
by the dictamen of conscience : these are the principles con-
taining the essence of his conception of the moral life, which
is entirely built up on the notion of duty, on the form of the
law.
John Stuart Mill : Difference of Quality in Pleasures ; Egoism
and Altruism.
Since Kant the ethical problem has not been neglected ;
for the human mind will never cease to inquire into its own
nature and its own destiny. But however interesting the
more recent enquiries may be, we shall here content ourselves
with giving an account of the developments which Utilitarian
ethics owe to the work of J. S. Mill and Herbert Spencer.
Mill tries to prove that Utilitarianism can account for the
moral traditions of mankind, that it can satisfy the noblest
minds, and can without inconsistency be made the basis of a
scheme of social ethics. This is how he formulates the
principle of Utilitarianism :
" The creed which accepts as the foundation of morals utility, or the
Greatest Happiness principle, holds that actions are light in proportion as
they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse
of happiness. By happiness is intended pleasure and the absence of
pain ; by unhappiness pain and the privation of pleasure " ( Utilitarianism,
p. 9).
We are not told whether it is here a question of the
happiness of the individual or of universal happiness. The
moral ideas revealed to us by conscience are not contrary to
this principle, for it is easy to give such a psychological expla-
nation of these ideas as will prove that they have their origin
in the pursuit of happiness.
" Life would be a poor thing, very ill provided with sources of happi-
ness, if there were not this provision of nature by which things originally
indifferent, but conducive to, or otherwise associated with, the satisfaction
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 85
of our primitive desires, become in themselves sources of pleasure more
valuable than the primitive pleasures, both in permanency, in the space of
human existence that they are capable of covering, and even in intensity.
Virtue, according to the utilitarian conception, is a good of this descrip-
tion. There was no original desire of it or motive to it, save its conducive-
ness to pleasure, and especially to protection from pain. But through the
association thus formed it may be felt a good in itself, and desired as such
with as great an intensity as any other good" {Utilitarianism, p. 55).
Thus through the laws of association we come to like for
their own sake things which we originally only liked as
means to ulterior ends. The miser loves money for its own
sake, owing to the pleasant notions associated with its
possession. We have come to love virtue as the miser loves
money ; and all our other moral sentiments remorse, satis-
faction, repentance though seemingly simple sentiments, are
in reality made up of analogous associations.
Let us see how this theory would affect private and social
life. Mill maintains that Utilitarianism is reconcilable with
the demands of human dignity, and, introducing into the
comparison between pleasures a new element, namely, that of
quality, he substitutes for Bentham's moral arithmetic a kind
of aesthetic of pleasure.
"It would be absurd that while, in estimating all other things, quality
is considered as well as quantity, the estimation of pleasure should be
supposed to depend on quantity alone. If I am asked what I mean by
difference of quality in pleasures, or what makes one pleasure more
valuable than another, merely as a pleasure, except its being greater in
amount, there is but one possible answer. Of two pleasures, if there be
one to which all or almost all who have experience of both give a decided
preference, irrespective of any feeling of moral obligation to prefer it,
that is the more desirable pleasure. . . . Now it is an unquestionable
fact that those who are equally acquainted with and equally capable of
appreciating and enjoying both, do give a most marked preference to the
manner of existence which employs their higher faculties. Few human
creatures would consent to be changed into any of the lower animals, for
a promise of the fullest allowance of the beasts pleasures ; no intelligent
being would consent to be a fool, no instructed person would be an
ignoramus, no person of feeling and conscience would be selfish and base.
. . . A being of higher faculties requires more to make him happy, is
capable probably of much more acute Buffering, and certainly accessible
to it at more points than one of an inferior type; but in spite of these
liabilities he can never really wish to sink into what he feels to be a
lower grade of existence" {Ibid. p. 1 I *</).
86 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Thus some pleasures are in fact higher than others, and if
we are to believe Mill, these pleasures are preferred to others
by those who know them, and should consequently be preferred
by all men.
But if our individual happiness is to be our end, is it not
to be feared that the conflict between individual interests will
be detrimental to the peace of society ?
" The utilitarian standard," Mill replies, " is not the agent's own
greatest hapjsiness, but the greatest amount of happiness altogether"
(p. 16). " I must again repeat what the assailants of utilitarianism
seldom have the justice to acknowledge, that the happiness which forms
the utilitarian standard of what is right in conduct is not the agent's
own happiness, but that of all concerned. As between his own happiness
and that of others, utilitarianism requires him to be as strictly impartial
as a disinterested and benevolent spectator. In the golden rule of Jesus
of Nazareth we read the complete spirit of the ethics of utility "
{Ibid. p. 24).
But do we not here come upon the difficulty inherent to
every form of Utilitarianism ? In the name of what principle
are we to demand this self-sacrifice on the part of the individual?
How can disinterestedness be made to grow out of interested-
ness ? J. S. Mill solves this difficulty in the following way :
Egoism is fundamental in human nature : altruism itself is
only a form of egoism. Altruism as a necessary condition of
social life should be encouraged, and the surest way to do this
is to associate it with self-love. Egoism, as it was the beginning
of altruism, should also develop and complete it. In the first
place, let the idea of crime be associated witli the idea of
punishment, through the legal sanction, and the fear of one will
produce horror of the other. In the second place, " education
and opinion, which have so vast a power over human
character, should so use that power as to establish in the mind
of every individual an indissoluble association between his own
happiness and the good of the whole ; especially between his
own happiness and the practice of such modes of conduct,
negative and positive, as regard for the universal happiness
prescribes" {Utilitarianism, p. 25).
Lastly, and above all, society should be so organized as to
insure a real harmony between the interest of each and the
interest of all. In such a perfect society no one could
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 87
conceive the possibility of personal happiness as a consequence
of a course of conduct that was opposed to the general good.
This golden age, this "issue hors de la civilization" as Fourier
calls it, is the ideal, the last word of Utilitarianism, which can
neither be logical nor sincere unless the individual and the
universal interests are made identical. But how to do this is
just the problem.
Herbert Spencer : Inevitableness of Ethical Evolution.
Mill's Ethics were founded on psychology, and in his system
the individual and society are considered apart from the rest
of Nature. Herbert Spencer, on the other hand, treats Ethics
as a branch of cosmology. Humanity with him is only a part
of a vaster system, and manifests, in its own sphere, laws
which govern the world. It is included in the movement of
things, and the evolution of man is only a part of the universal
evolution. Progress is not an accident but a necessity ;
civilization, far from being a product of art, is merely a phase
of nature like the development of the embryo, or the opening
of the flower.
The opponents of Utilitarianism urge against it the impossi-
bility of reconciling individual interest with the universal good;
but by virtue of the laws of evolution, given the fact of social
life, altruism must necessarily come out of egoism, and, owing
to heredity, the altruistic sentiments must ever predominate
more and more. Most of J. S. Mill's psychological analyses
are, Spencer says, correct, but they must be completed by taking
into account the laws of evolution and by considering the indi-
vidual in the species, and the species in nature.
"Pleasure, somewhere, at some time to some being or beings, is an
inexpugnable element of the conception [of morality]. It is as much a
necessary form of moral intuition, as space is a necessary form of
intellectual intuition" {Data of Ethics, Chapter III, p. 46).
Still pleasure is itself only a sign. Physical pleasure, for
instance, is the sign by which the best adjustment of
the acts of the animal to his vital functions is manifested
in consciousness. Vital activity is the cause of pleasure.
Vital activity, characterized by the pursuit of an end.
is the humble starting point of human conduct. The laws
governing the evolution of life, which is a transition from the
88 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
indefinite to the definite, from the homogeneous to the hetero-
geneous, apply therefore to human conduct. The moral life has
a characteristic unity and coherence, it is in harmony with
itself, sibi constat; whereas immoral conduct is incoherent, that
is to say, it consists in actions that are inconsequent and
contradictory. The life that we call moral is, moreover, varied
in its activity. The life of a married man, which is morally
superior to that of the celibate, is, besides, more heterogeneous and
complex. So also is the life of a generous man or of one who
takes part in politics, as contrasted with that of the egoist or
the private individual (Chap. V). The progress of morality
is therefore merely the progress of the adaptation of human
life to its constitutive laws. The principle of moral actions
consists exclusively in the consideration of their natural and
intrinsic effects. There is no need to appeal to the feeling of
obligation, since, when moral evolution is completed, the good is
realized with pleasure.
"Evidently then, with complete adaptation to the social state, that
element in the human consciousness which is expressed by the word
obligation will disappear. The higher actions required for the harmonious
carrying on of life will be as much matters of course as are those lower
actions which the simpler desires prompt. In their proper times and
places and proportions, the moral sentiments will guide men just as
spontaneously and adequately as now do the sensations " {Ibid. VII, 46)
..." The moral conduct will be the natural conduct " {Ibid. 47).
And as private morality is merely the result of the
development of life and of its progressive adaptation to
necessary conditions, so also will a perfect state of society
eventually be established as the effect solely of natural laws
and cosmic evolution. That agreement between individual and
universal interest, which was the dream of Mill, will be
automatically realized. The pursuit of this remote ideal is
even now our interest. As belonging to the same species, we
should work towards the foundation of the best form of society.
But, in any case, it will come to be, whether we desire it or
not. Good, in time, will come out of the natural laws, just as
evil does at present. Thus egoism is now the first law of
nature, the first duty is self-preservation, and self-love is the
highest virtue ; but when political economy has provided for
the satisfaction of the wants of all, the present conflict of
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN MODERN TIMES 89
interests will no longer be possible. The joys of altruism and
self-sacrifice will then alone have any attraction, and there will
be on all sides rivalry in altruism, each desiring to bear the
burden of self-sacrifice and refusing to reap its advantage.
And so the ethical ideal of which we only dream to-day is in
process of being realized merely through the action of the laws
of nature, for it is the consummation of our evolution. Natural-
istic ethics concludes by harmonizing with the morality of duty ;
but its conclusions are the result of a kind of fatalism like the
fatum Mahometanum, according to which things will come to
pass in any case and without human interference. Nothing
could be more convenient to each individual than this theory,
since it allows him to yield to all his passions, knowing that
progress will go on just the same, and that the supremacy
of good will be in any case effected by natural forces.
Conclusion.
Let us now see what conclusions can be drawn from this
long account of the efforts made by the human mind to attain
a knowledge of human destiny. The problem is to discover
the meaning of life, to determine the principles which can
co-ordinate all its acts. And since men can only be satisfied
with that sovereign good which includes both virtue and
happiness, it has ever been the object of moralists to
reconcile these two terms which seem irreconcilable, but
which cannot be separated without violation to the
intelligence. Some philosophers reduce happiness to virtue,
others teach that virtue coincides with happiness. But both
these solutions are perpetually being contradicted by the facts
of life. For man is not an isolated and independent being.
He lives in the midst of society, and is therefore largely
dependent upon his human environment ; he lives in the
bosom of nature, and his acts are only a fragmentary part of
the immense life which surrounds him on all sides, which
extends far beyond his sphere of action, and in which he is
nevertheless included and involved.
Thus when they reflect upon human life, moralists are led
to consider also the universal life. To those who hold thai
the physical depend on the moral laws, our present lit'- is
unintelligible only because it is not a whole but a part. The
90 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
other school, as we have seen, regard the moral laws as being
themselves merely physical laws, which by a necessary evolu-
tion, are in process of bringing about human morality, and
therewith the ideal harmony between egoism and altruism,
between happiness and duty. But the question is, whence do
physical laws derive the power of becoming moral laws ? By
what force is egoism transformed into altruism ? Must there
not be some motive power, which impels nature to rise above
herself ? And assuming that, when at last the ideal limit and
the end towards which this progress tends has been reached,
nature and virtue will be one (for even Kant admits that in
the kingdom of ends virtue becomes holiness), still, in the
interval that lies between us and this ideal state, in our
present life in fact, it is through the idea of duty that each
step is won, it is this notion alone that prompts the effort
without which there can be no progress.
PART III
METAPHYSICS
CHAPTER I
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE
The first inclination of the human mind is to act without
questioning itself. In the beginning of mental life the
distinction between thought and the object of thought is not
clearly perceived. But man falls into error, and the moment
he becomes conscious of this, his mistrust is awakened. 'When
later he discovers the contradictions of human opinions, his
confidence is still further shaken. Then thought, which was
at first directed to external things, turns upon itself. And as
soon as we begin to reflect upon our own thought, to speculate
as to its value, we have reached the first period of doubt,
and whether we are to get beyond this stage or not, we
are henceforward obliged to face the most formidable of all
philosophical problems : Is the human mind capable of
attaining certitude ? Have we the right to expect it ?
Every system of philosophy is a direct or an indirect answer
to this question. The Dogmatists in divers ways affirm the
harmony of thought and its object. They recognize, it is true,
the existence of two terms, the ego and the non-ego, matter
and mind, but they are terms between which thought itself
constitutes a natural connection. The Sceptics deny the possi-
bility of knowledge : they either oppose the mind to the
object which it strives to know but can never reach : or,
imprisoning thought within itself, they seek to discourage it
by the spectacle of its own contradictions. Lastly, seeing the
impossibility of vindicating knowledge if we accept the exist-
ence of an object opposed to the mind and having nothing in
94 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPK /
common with it, or into the essence of which it is, to say the
least, impossible to penetrate, the Idealists derive from the
subject itself the object of knowledge, and admit nothing as
real but' the intelligible. Between these extreme theories we
find intermediate solutions, in the history of which we see the
efforts that have been made by the mind not to yield its
dominion altogether, while yet allowing its own place to
scepticism.
Pre-Socratic Philosophy : Antithesis between Sensible and
Rationed Knowledge. The Origin of Sophistry. Sophistry and
the Law of Contradiction.
At the first awakening of Greek thought the question did
not yet present itself, so that it can hardly be said that any
solution of it was given. There was, however, an entirely
instinctive, spontaneous, or, so to speak, unconscious solution,
in which we recognize the natural and primitive tendency of
the human mind, and which is implied in the very fact that
the problem did not exist. The mind had before it the world
of nature, and did not yet consider itself as a separate thing.
The Pythagoreans and the Eleatics, Empedocles, Democritus, and
Anaxagoras all attempted an explanation of nature, but never
thought of raising any doubt as to our means of knowing it :
philosophy, at this first period, was an unconscious dogmatism.
No doubt this dogmatism was not without some reservation.
Xenophanes complains of the difficulty we have in discovering
truth, and he adds, that even, when by chance we ' come upon '
{Tvyoi) the true, we are never sure of possessing it ; Sokos S' enl
-warn ttuktcu. Nevertheless Xenophanes sets forth, with the
most complete conviction, his own views concerning the gods.
We find the same complaint and the same dogmatism in
Empedocles (V, 36 sq.) and in Democritus (Sext. Emp. Adv.
Math. VII). But we must not attribute to these ancient
philosophers the theories that would seem to be implied in
some of their principles. Because Heraclitus affirms the union
of contraries, we must not, like Aristotle (Metaph. X, c. 5),
accuse him of having denied the law of contradiction, and
hence the possibility of any certitude. He had no idea of the
law of contradiction ; he had not even a clear notion of what
a contradiction is.
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 95
But even in the dogmatism of these early thinkers we can
discern germs, which, when developed, were to give rise to
Sophistry. All the philosophers after Parmenides and Hera-
clitus arrived at the opposition between knowledge and opinion,
between rational and sensible knowledge. The operations of
thought lead to results that are in evident contradiction with
the testimony of our senses ; and hence we must decide
between the concrete data and the abstract products of thought.
Heraclitus and Parmenides, Democritus, Empedocles, and
Anaxagoras, agree in denying the veracity of our senses (see
Vol. I., Chap. III. The Senses and External Perception). Now,
by rational knowledge all these ancient philosophers understand,
not a 'priori data, but the operations of thought upon the data
of sense. Was it not evidently a dangerous process for dogma-
tism to establish in this way a difference in value between
rational and sensible knowledge, without distinguishing their
origin ? What right had they to allow to a knowledge that
was derived, an authority they denied to primitive knowledge ?
And this was not the only side on which these systems laid
themselves open to the attacks of the Sceptics. For Greek
philosophy before Socrates was not only a dogmatism, but a
physical dogmatism. Sensible knowledge was therefore not
only the starting point of the whole of this philosophy, but the
condition of its existence ; and a philosophy that was led by
its own results to dispute the worth of this knowledge
destroyed the very principles on which it rested.
Besides this contradiction, which is inherent in all these
systems, there was another which resulted from the disagree-
ment between the systems themselves. Parmenides denies
Becoming and the Many ; Heraclitus sees in nature an infinite
multiplicity, and a perpetual Becoming; Democritus attributes
perpetual motion to his atoms ; Anaxagoras finds it necessary to
introduce an independent moving cause, namely, intelligence.
The day had to come when the human mind, weary of these end-
less inquiries into the nature of things, would review the results
arrived at by these researches. Then was suggested the oldest
argument of Scepticism, namely, that from the contradictions
among human opinions.
Thus it became an amusement to set the hypotheses of the
different philosophers against one another. Contradictions
96 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
were pointed out on every hand : between Parmenides and
himself ; between Parmenides and Heraclitus ; between both
of them and common sense. This clashing of contradictory
ideas and arguments gave birth to Sophistry. The peculiarity
of this form of scepticism is that it did not take the trouble to
seek for any scientific basis. It did not invent its arguments,
but borrowed them from former systems, and was content to
develop them with a certain amount of skill. Some Sophists
started from the doctrine of Heraclitus, others from that of the
Eleatics, and from such opposite points of view they all arrived
at the same conclusions.
Protagoras takes up the thesis of Heraclitus : everything is
always in motion. It is only as objects move towards one
another and mingle that they become something determinate ;
therefore it cannot be said that they are something, or even
that they are at all, but only that they are becoming something.
This theory applies as well to our knowledge. We are a
variable term standing in an infinite number of relations to other
objects. Things are to each man only what they appear to him
to be, and they appear to him such as they must appear, given
his peculiar state. " Man is the measure of all things, of
those that exist and of those that do not exist." Upon such a
principle no knowledge is possible ; there is no escape from
a chaos of contradictory opinions.
Gorgias adopts the argument of the Eleatics, but what they
asserted only of multiple and changing being he applies to Being
in general, and arrives at this threefold conclusion : 1st, there
is nothing ; 2nd, if there were anything we could not
know it ; 3rd, and if we could know it, we could not teach
it to others (Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. VII, 77 sq.). This was
more than Scepticism, it was absolute Nihilism.
Sophistry arose out of a dim consciousness of the law of
contradiction. Though this principle was first formulated by
Aristotle, the Sophists at least contributed towards its discovery.
They had a notion of it as the criterion of truth, and in this
way Sophistry was to a certain extent legitimate and fruitful.
It showed the contradictions of the philosophers of the past,
and it imposed on those of the future greater clearness and
coherence in their systems, besides pointing out the necessity
of commencing with a critical inquiry into the possibility of
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 97
knowledge. So far, Sophistry had its raison d'etre ; where it was
wrong was in its hasty conclusions as to our radical incapacity
to reach truth. It brought about its own destruction by
violating the law of contradiction, in the name of which it had
been founded. Sophistry went beyond doubt and negation even,
and professed to maintain at the same time the most contra-
dictory propositions. Thus it lost its hold on contemporary
thought and provoked a reaction. In their dim conception of
the law of contradiction lay the real strength of the Sophists,
and it was by means of this law that Socrates brought about
their ruin.
Socrates : Concepts the Objects of Knowledge ; Subjective
Certainty. Plato : Concepts and Ideas ; Objective Certainty.
While attacking the Sophists, Socrates in a certain sense
carried on and completed their work. Philosophers deceive them-
selves, and we ourselves are deceived by our senses. From this
the Sophists inferred that knowledge is impossible ; but
Socrates, on the other hand, infers only that it was impossible
to reach science by the road hitherto taken, and he seeks a
new method. Sensible knowledge by itself leads to contra-
dictions, because it only shows us one aspect of things, the
changing and fleeting surface. There is no science of the
particular or accidental. Science has for its object the universal
(Arist. Met. XIII, 1078 b, 17). It consists precisely in deter-
mining the concept, which reconciles apparent contradictions,
and brings them to the unity of a single notion (Xenophon,
Mem. TV, ii, 11). The object of the science of courage, for
instance, is not a certain act of courage, but what is common to all
courageous acts; it is one notion which is in the mind of all
men when they use the word courage ; it is the answer to
the cpaestion, t'l ea-rw n avSpela (Ibid. IV, vi, 15). Thus it is
on concepts that Socrates re-establishes knowledge; these for
him contain the principle of certainty. e7n rhv viro&ecriv eiravfjye
Travra tov Xoyou (Ibid. 13).
The criterion of certitude is that it puts an end to sophis-
tical discussions, that it brings a man into harmony with himself
and with others : owore Se avros ri tw Xoyw Sie^loi oia tS>v
/udXicTTa o/uoXoyoufxeuow e-Tropevero, vofufyv tuvtiji* a<T(paAtav
elvai Xoyou. " Socrates also thought that those who knew the
II. G
98 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
nature of things severally would be able to explain them to
others" (Ibid.).
Socrates gives a reply to the arguments of the Sophists, but
he does not attack the principles of scepticism ; he asks
himself how we can reach knowledge, but not if we can reach
it. He does not question the possibility of arriving at cer-
tainty, but is only concerned in defining the manner in
which it is to be sought. His philosophy implies a full
belief in the possibility of knowledge, a belief which was both
instinctive and profound, and which it did not occur to him to
justify. With him, however, the conception we should form of
knowledge becomes the first problem in philosophy. But his
solution remained incomplete. Knowledge rests on concepts ;
this is enough for subjective, but not for objective certainty.
Are things in themselves such as our concepts represent them
to be ? This postulate of which Socrates had not recognized
the necessity was affirmed by Plato.
It is owing to Plato that certitude acquired an objective
value. Our concepts exist outside ourselves. The true reality
dwells in our objectified concepts, in notions, in the Ideas. Our
concepts are, then, not only the principles of knowledge, but of
existence itself. The ideal theory is a theory of certainty. To
the question, how our concepts can be at once the types and
images of reality, Plato replies by his theory of innate ideas.
It is evidently not our concepts themselves, considered from the
point of view of the individual, that determine reality. The Ideas,
the principles of being, are not general ideas abstracted from the
manifold phenomena (Phil. 16 c, Rep. 596 a), but they are dis-
covered by an immediate intuition which is not the result of
the mere elaboration of experience, but the ultimate term of a
dialectic method (Rep. Bk. VII). The question remains, how does
our soul originally obtain these concepts, which are at once the
types and the images of reality ? To this question Plato
answers by his theory of Reminiscence (Phaedrus, 246 sq.).
We must observe that the possibility of knowledge is not a
subject of doubt to Plato any more than to Socrates. What
he discusses is the conception that should be formed of true
knowledge, never its possibility. The possibility of knowledge
is in fact the principle on which the whole ideal theory de-
pends. That knowledge is possible, and that true knowledge
SCEPTICISM AND CEKTITTJDE 99
is founded on concepts, was the postulate of Socrates, and Plato
deduces its logical consequences. To say that concepts alone
constitute true knowledge, or represent that which is, is
to say that our concepts correspond to objective reality ; in
other words, what is intelligible exists, what is not intelligible
does not exist, and reality is in direct proportion to intelli-
gibility.
Aristotle : Impossibility of Proving Everything ; Intuitive
Certainty of the Principles of Knowledge.
Aristotle does not, any more than his predecessors, question
the possibility of knowledge. For him as for Plato knowledge
deals with concepts, and is a certain knowledge of that which
is general and universal to KadoXov. So full was the con-
fidence of these philosophers in the validity of thought, that
Aristotle, who expressly attacks the Sceptics, does not even
refer to the problem of certainty.
Science is the knowledge of the universal, and according to
Aristotle the universal exists only through the particular. It
is given to us in sensible reality (Dc Anima, III, viii, 432 a, 2),
whence it must be abstracted ; and this is the function of
induction. When once the uniyersal is known, if our induction
has not misled us, we should be able to deduce the particular
from it. True knowledge is therefore demonstrative, and
demonstration is the criterion of certainty. But will this
criterion always be necessary ? Demonstration is a syllogism
starting from established premisses : will these premisses
themselves always require to be proved ? To prove everything
is impossible (Met. 1006 a, 9), for we should have to go on to
infinity (e<? aireipov yap av fidSitov). The series of inter-
mediate terms is not infinite, and where these intermediate
terms end there appears an immediate knowledge, the
knowledge of principles. These principles have the double
characteristic of being incapable of proof and of not requiring
proof (An. Post. II, 100 b, 8). They are known with a
greater certainty than anything that can be deduced from
them. They are the source of the certainty of which
deduction is only the channel. The faculty by which the)
are known is reason (vov$), and according to Aristotle this
faculty never deceives us (Be Anima, 429^, 15-27 : 130 a, 2).
100 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
This theory of Aristotle is the best answer to a famous
argument of the Sceptics the impossibility of proving every-
thing {An. Post. I, 3). But it pre-supposes precisely that which
scepticism called in question, namely, the possibility of
knowledge. If everything had to be proved, says Aristotle,
knowledge would be impossible ; what do I care, the Sceptic
replies, it is precisely the possibility of knowledge that I
dispute, and you answer me by starting from this assumption
just as if it were a necessary .principle. In fact, Aristotle's
whole doctrine is inspired by the idea that certainty is and
must be possible. He merely affirms the infallibility of our
reason, and this is indeed all that can be done by those who
wish to resist scepticism. If we are to find certainty, we
must first of all believe in it.
Aristotle was not aware of the difficulty of his position, he
was aware only of its strength, for he had that natural faith
which is lacking in the sceptic. In order to defend the
principle of contradiction, he shows that those who deny it
condemn themselves to universal scepticism {Met. 1005 b, 11 sq.).
To him, as to all strong minds, doubt is repugnant ; he has
faith in the veracity of his own faculties. He shows that
scepticism is contradictory and refutes itself in practical life
{Met. 1005 b, 25). He attacks it with all the scorn of one who
is convinced of the soundness of his own reasons. If his mind,
he says of the sceptic, holds to nothing, if he at the same time
believes and does not believe what he says, in what does such
a man differ from a vegetable ? eari S' cnroSei^ac eXeyKntcw?
Kai 7rep tovtov on aSuvarov av fxovov tl \eyy 6 a/j.(pL(T^Twv.
av Se fxrjQlv, yekoiov to fyreiv \6yov 7rpo? rov [ifjOevos kyovTa
\6yov, j] ju.rj e-^ef o/u.oios yap (pvTU> 6 toiovtos j] toiovtos ijorj.
Finally, he says, like Spinoza, that the role of the sceptic
is to be dumb : ov too toiovtw \oyos, out cwtw Tpos olvtov,
ovTe 7T|0o? aXXov {Ibid.).
After Aristotle the Problem of Certainty is recognized.
Stoicism : Subjective Criterion ; Tension of the Soul. Illogical
Dogmatism of Epicurus.
After Aristotle the speculative interest was made sub-
ordinate to the practical. The human intellect, having grown
feeble, began to doubt itself, and the possibility of knowledge
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 101
appeared as a problem demanding solution. To discover an
immutable rule of life and a sure measure of certainty and
knowledge were the two questions with which henceforward
philosophy was to concern itself (ftavaisson, Mit. d'Arist.
Vol. II, p. 65).
But knowledge was only a means to happiness and
Logic prepared the way for Ethics ; and thus the speculative
postulate of Plato and Aristotle became a practical postulate.
It remained to be seen whether the practical interest really
did stand in need of a scientific conception. The Sceptics
-denied this, and there being no longer any justification or
motive for it, science was declared to be impossible as well as
useless.
Notwithstanding its dogmatic character, Stoicism already
carried within it the germ of scepticism. It already discussed
intellectual certainty, and, if it furnished a foundation for it,
the foundation was too weak to resist the pressing attacks
of the sceptics. This weakness is a result of the gross
materialism which was combined in the Stoic system with
much that was noble and true.
For the Stoics nothing was real that was not a body, therefore nothing
existed that could be known otherwise than by the senses. Sensible percep-
tion, however, was not purely passive : it followed the impression made
by the object on the soul, and was distinguished from it. Knowledge
begins with the consent we give to a representation when we refer it to
an object (Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. VIII, 397). But what is it that deter-
mines this assent ? In other words, by what signs do we recognize that a
representation is a true one ? There are representations which impose
themselves on us with such force that we cannot refuse our assent to
them, (faav-ao-laL KaraXijTTTLKai (D.L. vn, 46). These representations
are in conformity with the reality and express the peculiar qualities
(l8uo/j,a.Ta) which distinguish an object from all others (Sext. Emp. Adv.
Math. VII, 250 sq.). For the Stoics maintain, as did Leibnitz later, that
there are not two things in nature perfectly alike ; and from this they
conclude "that there is, for everything, in every circumstance, one single
representation which is infallible and truly comprehensive, and the sole
object of the assent of the wise man" (Ravaisson, M&aph. d'Arist.). The
real object is recognized by the impression, or shock ((Jmvtuo-iu evapyrjs
ko.1 TrXijKTtKij), which constitutes the evidence of its reality. Bui by what
means do we measure the shock, the effect of the tension, which is tie-
special quality perceived? By the energy of the inner force, tie- tension
of the perceiving soul. Thus we are brought back from the passivity of
102 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
the soul on which the impression is made, to the peculiar activity by
which it apprehends the object perceived. " Mens naturalem vim habet
quam intendit ad ea quibus movetur" (Cic. Acad. II, 10).
Truth has its source in the force of the immediate conviction
which the (pavraaria Kara\rj7rriK7'i carries with it. This force
belongs originally to internal and external perceptions, and
also to the universal concepts, TrpoXyyjsei?, Koivai evvo'tai, which
are unconsciously abstracted from them by the spontaneous
activity of thought. In this way the Stoics could say that
the criteria of the true are the (pavracrla KaTaXrjTrTiKy'i and
the 7rp6\t}y]sis (D.L. VII, 54). On the other hand the exact-
ness of the methodically formed concepts has to be proved
by scientific demonstration. Yet, when once they are proved,
and this is an insoluble contradiction in the Stoic system, they
carry with them a certainty, not only equal but superior to
the certainty of perceptions. If all reality is corporeal or
individual, if every concept is only an abstraction, how could
there be more truth in the thought of what is not real, than
in the conception of the corporeal, which is reality itself ? Yet
Zeno compared a simple act of perception to the open hand,
judgment to the closed hand, the concept to the fist, knowledge
to the fist grasped by the other hand. The whole difference
between these four forms of knowledge lies, as we see, in
the greater or less force of the conviction. Certitude varies
with the tension of the mind ; there are in it differences
of degree, but not of nature. In fact, the real criterion
for the Stoics was neither the (pavraa-ia KaTa\r]7rTiK}j nor
the X|Oo'X>;\^i?, but the force of conviction, the tension of
the mind, ev tovw kcu Suvd/mei (Stob. Eclog. II, 128) an
entirely subjective criterion. The argument which recurs
perpetually in their lengthy polemics against scepticism
is the practical interest, the impotence of the man who
doubts, the necessity of affirmation in practical life (Plut.
De Stoic repugn. 47, 12 : to /ny'/Te TrpaTTeiv ^c?;re op/mav
acrvyKaTaOeTiKO ?).
The Epicureans, like the Stoics, make the theory of know-
ledge subordinate to ethics. The sensualistic dogmatism of
Epicurus rests on a practical postulate, on the need of
a firmly established conviction in order to avoid the uncer-
tainties of a life left to chance. Since his ethical system rests
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 103
altogether on the sensations of pleasure and pain, sensation
must be for him the criterion of truth.
" There were," Epicurus said, " three criteria, the senses, the anticipa-
tions or primary notions, and the passions : KpiTi)pt,a t>}s dXr^etas elvat.
Tas cuV^rycreis /ecu ras TrpoXijipeis /ecu to, irddrj" (D.L. X, 31). Through
the passions we only know the pleasure and pain caused in us by things.
They are the basis of practical philosophy. Anticipation, that by which
we anticipate or divine sensation, is the impress (tvttos, D.L. x, 33) left by a
frequently repeated sensation. One may say then that, for Epicurus, in
the last resort, the only criterion of truth and the principle of all specula-
tive life was sensation. If you resist all the senses you will not even have
anything left to which you can refer (D.L. x, 46). The only way of
escaping from absolute doubt is to admit that sensation is always veracious.
Where we think to find errors of sense there are only errors of judgment.
How can the testimony of sense be contradicted ? Is it by reason ? but
rational knowledge is derived from sensible knowledge. Do our senses
contradict one another ? No ; for each one of them has, in its own
domain, an absolute validity. The different kinds of perceptions do not
refer to the same thing (Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. VII, 203, sq.). Thus
sensation itself is evidence (evdpyeta). Error is possible only when we
go beyond sensation. Sensation is the criterion of the abstract concepts
which are valid only in so far as they are confirmed by sensation, and in
some cases only in so far as they are not contradicted by it (D.L. x, 33).
Epicurus does not seem to have seen the difficulties inherent
in this theory. All sensations as such are true ; and this being
the case, we must return to the argument of Protagoras.
Epicurus tries to avoid this sceptical inference by his theory of
the idola. Our senses are affected, not by the objects themselves,
but by the images, the simulacra, which emanate from them.
Now there are many of these images, and they may, moreover,
become altered during the passage from the object to the sense
which they affect. If, therefore, the same object appears diffe-
rent to different individuals it is nut because the sensation is
deceptive, but because the individuals have in reality perceived
different objects, since they have been affected by different
images.
But this is not a solution ; it merely puts the difficulty
a step further back. How is the faithful image to be
distinguished from the image that does not correspond to the
object ? We have outside us, as it were, two worlds which do
not mingle though one is derived from the other the wild of
104 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
images, the world of real objects. We only know the former
through perception, and, as there is no constant relation
between them, the latter remains unknowable. Thus science
is deprived of all objective value ; and the sensualistic
subjectivity in which the theory of Epicurus culminates is
not far removed from the scepticism of Pyrrho.
Pyrrho' s Radical Scepticism. The new Academy: Criticism
of the Stoic Dogmatism. Probabilism. Carneades : Theory of
Degrees of Probability.
At this period of Greek philosophy everything seemed
to conduce to scepticism. Even those who attacked it
fostered it at the same time by their empiricism. They
questioned the possibility of knowledge, and could find no
better foundation for it than a practical postulate. If this
postulate were overturned, if it were maintained that our prac-
tical interests do not depend upon knowledge, that, on the
contrary, these interests would be better served by abandoning
a knowledge that is, in any case, unattainable, then we should
have a complete scepticism ; and there would be nothing left
to dogmatism wherewith to oppose it. It was the leading idea
of Pyrrho to make the denial of knowledge the condition of the
Sovereign Good.
Pyrrho lays down three propositions : 1st, that we can know
nothing of the nature of things ; 2nd, that we must con-
sequently suspend our judgment concerning them ; 3rd, that
the result of this suspension is arupa^ia, which is at once
virtue and happiness.
We can know nothing of the nature of things, for how could we
obtain certain knowledge ? Through our senses ? Through them we
know things, not as they are in themselves, but as they appear to us.
Through reason ? But reason, even where it seems to have most
authority, that is, in the moral sphere, rests on mere custom and habit
(D.L. ix, 61). All we can do is to suspend our judgment ; e7rk\uv ttjv
o-vyKaTaOeenv ; a thing is not niore this than that, ovSev /xaXXov (D.L.
ix, 74). The doubt of the Sceptics does not refer to appearances, to
phenomena (cf>aiv6/Aei>a), which are evident (evapyrj), but to the reality
which we are incapable of attaining (D.L. ix, 103). "But what is
evidently seen prevails wherever it may be," says Timon (Ap. D.L. ix.
105). The moment we try to get beyond it we find ourselves confronted
by contradictory and equipollent reasons which prevent all affirmation
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 105
(D.L. ix, 106). In practical life apathy and indifference (d(5ia<opia,
airadeia) correspond to doubt (eVox"//, ac^acrta) in theoretical life (Aristo-
cles ap. Euseb. Praep. Evang. XIV, 13, 2). Cicero speaks of Pyrrho as of
one who was before all things a moralist {Be Fin. VII, 16, 43). To him
(Pyrrho) scepticism was not an end but a means. He cared nothing for dia-
lectics or subtle discussions : it was solely with the moral life that he was
occupied. "As Pyrrho had left a great example, as he was venerated
almost as much as Socrates, the Sceptics thought it well, when their
doctrine had been completely elaborated, to invoke his name, and to place
themselves as it were under his patronage. It was a good answer to those
who so often accused him of abolishing virtue and making life impossible.
In short, Pyrrho was a kind of saint under whose patronage Scepticism
placed itself ; but the father of Pyrrhonism appears to have been very
little of a Pyrrhonian " (Brochard, Revue philosophique, May, 1885).
Scepticism was taught by Pyrrho as an introduction to
Ethics , the Academy taught it for its own sake, and com-
menced against the Stoic dogmatism a polemic in which, with
an interval of nearly a century between them, Arcesilaus took
part against Zeno, and Carneades against Chrysippus.
Arcesilaus proposes his theory as a refutation of the Stoic
dogmatism. He appears to regard the doctrine of (pavrauia
KaraXtj-KT iter'] as the only possible theory of knowledge, and by
proving it to be false he believes that he has proved the
impossibility of knowledge. The Stoic criterion was the force
of conviction which the (pauracria /caraA?77rTf/a/ carries with it.
Arcesilaus replies that this conviction may belong to a false as
well as to a true perception, nullum tale esse visum a vero lit
non ejusmodi etiam a /also possit (Cic. Acad. II, 24, 77). Since all
our cognitions have their origin in the (pauracria tcara^-maa'),
when the latter disappears science disappears also, and the
philosopher cannot give his assent to nothing. To the Stoics'
objection that scepticism makes life impossible, Arcesilaus
replies that probability is the only rule of practical life. II''
taught the doctrine of Probabilism.
A century after Arcesilaus the scepticism of the Academy
had in Carneades its most famous representative. There is
abundant testimony as to the acuteness and eloquence of this
philosopher, and the admiration he inspired not only in his
disciples but in his antagonists (Cic. Be Oral. II. 38, 161 : D.L.
iv, 62, 63). This great thinker not only gave a firmer basis to the
negative side of scepticism, he also defined the resources which
106 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
this theory allows to the human mind. He gave precision to
the doctrine of probability, and indicated its conditions and
different degrees. He was the great teacher of ancient
scepticism.
Carneades does not confine himself to refuting the Stoic
doctrines, he also attacks those of all the previous philosophers
(Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. VII, 159). He denies both the formal
possibility and the results of science.
Knowledge is impossible, for there is, in truth, no kind of conviction
which has not at some time or another proved false, or which consequently
may be regarded as the guarantee of the possession of truth (Sext. Emp. Adv.
Math. VII, 159). An examination of our mental representations leads
to the same conclusion. These representations are merely subjective
modifications, and before they could provide the elements of knowledge it
would be necessary that in manifesting themselves to us they should at
the same time reveal the external objects which are their cause (Ibid.
160 sq.). And how many are the errors of the senses which might be
mentioned ! There might still remain the possibility of establishing a
criterion in order to distinguish the true perceptions from the false ; but
how could this be done seeing that all have the same origin and bear the
same mark ? Think of the images we see in dreams, of the madman's
hallucinations (Ibid. ; Cic. Acad. II, 15, 47). Many false perceptions are so
like the true as to be indistinguishable from them. There are objects
which are so similar that we confound them (for instance, two eggs) : this
is the denial of the Stoic principle of indiscernibles (Ibid. 164 ; Cic. Acad.
II, 13, 40). Moreover, the transition from the true to the false usually
takes place by insensible degrees, and consequently the distinction
between them escapes us. Carneades applies this observation not only to
sensations, but to the concepts of our understanding. His triumph was
most complete when he applied it to the quantitative notions, reviving the
Sorites, and all the Megaric logical subtleties (Ibid. 416 sq. ; Cic.
Acad. II, 29, 92 sq.). To sum up, knowledge is impossible because we
have no criterion, because error carries with it the same conviction as
truth.
As regards the results of knowledge, the criticisms of
Carneades were principally directed against the views of the
Stoics. He refuted, by means of arguments which are still
current, the Stoic teleology (Cic. Be Nat. Deor. Ill, 26, 65-70),
the idea of a divine personality (Cic. Ibid. Ill, 13, 32 sq.;
Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. IX, 139 sq.), and intelligence (Sext.
Emp. Adv. Math. IX, 152, 175), the proof of the existence of
God by general consent (Cic. Be Nat. Deor. Ill, 4, 11), the theory
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 107
of determinism (Cic. De Fato, 11, 23 sq.), and lastly, without much
difficulty, divination, and the other ancient superstitions (Cic.
De Divinitat. I, II).
From this twofold criticism of dogmatism Carneades con-
cludes that it is impossible to know anything. The wise man
affirms nothing, not even that he know y s nothing (Cic. Acad.
II, 9, 28).
All our representations have by no means the same value. We are
obliged to act, and must therefore attribute to certain representations an
authority sufficient to allow of our being determined by them. We must
attribute to them, not indeed truth, which is beyond our grasp, but at
least the appearance of truth, to dX.i]drj (jiaivea-dat e//,<ao-ia (appearance),
T7i6avoTr]s (probability). Truth implies agreement with the object and
does not depend on ourselves. We can only judge of that which appears
to us to be true (Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. XII, 166 sq.). In this adherence
or belief there are degrees which correspond to the degrees of probability.
A representation which appears to be true when taken by itself, but is
not in agreement with the rest of our representations, has only the lowest
degree of probability (Ibid. 173). To the degree immediately above this
belongs a representation whose probability is confirmed by its agree-
ment with concomitant representations (Ibid. 176) ; the highest degree
of probability is reached when these concomitant representations are
themselves corroborated in the same manner (Ibid. 182) ; and since the
series of possible experiences is indefinite, we may in this way get
nearer and nearer to certainty without ever attaining it. A representa-
tion belonging to the first degree is merely probable, but when it belongs to
the second it has the additional advantage of not being contradicted. In
the third degree the representation is not only not contradicted, it has
also been tested, is at once iridav-q koI uTrepicnrao-Tos Kal T7pia>fiev/j.a'i)
(Ibid. 184). Thus the further we cany our inquiries the more probable is
our knowledge, and the nearer we get to certainty. Carneades also applies
this theory to ethical life. He does not pronounce on the question of the
sovereign good, but merely determines the relative value of different
kinds of good. In ethics the theory of Trpoijyjieva or desirable things,
corresponds to the theory of probability.
It is impossible to deny the philosophical value of this
theory. If we are denied absolute certainty, at least all efforl
of the mind is not stultified, it still has some meaning, some
significance; the mind may adhere freely to a probability
which is brought nearer and nearer to certainty by the mutual
agreement of representations and ideas within the unity of a
coherent thought.
108 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Eclecticism : Evidence the Criterion of Truth. Antiochus.
Cicero.
The theory of probability prepared the way for a return to
dogmatism. The Sceptics had rejected all the philosophic
systems as false, the Eclectics admitted that not one of them
was true ; but, advancing a step further in the direction
marked out by Carneades, they thought that from all the
systems taken together, they might be able to find the truth,
provided these systems were critically examined. What was to
be the criterion of truth ? If we are to depend on the proposi-
tions in which philosophers agree, we should only arrive at very
vague and general notions. Shall we fall back on the practical
value of doctrines ? But what is the destiny of man ? Even
this is one of the problems concerning which philosophers are
most divided ; so that the only measure of truth left is
individual consciousness. But here again the Eclectics only
develop the theory of Carneades, who, for truth in itself,
substituted that which appears to he true. They accept with
the Sceptics the subjective character of evidence, but they
affirm that man possesses as it were a measure of the true and
the false, that he may fully trust to what is immediately
given in his consciousness, to what appears to him as certain,
apart from scientific inquiry. Eclecticism is the common-sense
school of antiquity. As Zeller remarks, the Eclectics were to
the Sceptics who went before them what in modern times the
Scottish school has been to Hume.
It was very natural that the first appearance of eclecticism should
have been in the Academy. The theory of Philo of Larissa, the pupil and
successor of Clitomachus, who was himself a disciple of Carneades, is
somewhat vague. He professes to remain faithful to the spirit of his
masters, maintaining that there is no sure sign of the true and the false
{Acad. II, 6, 18), nevertheless he does not deny the possibility of cer-
tainty. We must, he says, distinguish inter incertwm et id quod percipi
non possit (Cic. Acad. II, 10, 32). There is a certainty which is founded
on evidence, and there are truths impressed on our minds which are
evident and which yet cannot be perceived and comprehended as the Stoics
supposed ; esse aliquid perspicui (evapyes) verum Mud quidem impressum
in animo atque mente, neque tamen id percipi ac comprehendi posse (Acad.
11,11,34).
In order to attain certitude it was necessary to break
altogether from the theory of Carneades, and this was done
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 109
by Antiochus of Ascalon. His eclectic dogmatism was founded
on the postulate which served as basis to the Stoic dogmatism,
namely, on the necessity of fixed opinions in order to act.
Probability alone is not enough for practical life, and even
supposing it were enough, the principles of Carneades would
destroy it. Probability and certainty disappear together. If
the true as such cannot be known, how can anything have
the appearance to us of being true ? (Cic. Acad. II, 11, 33).
Antiochus, indeed, reasserts the possibility of certainty. He examines
and refutes Carneades' criticisms. As regards the senses his arguments re-
solve themselves into the following : because our senses sometimes deceive
us, we have no right to infer that they deceive us always (Cic. Acad. II,
7, 19). As against general concepts, Carneades used to bring forward the
illusions of dreams or of madness. But these do not bear the evidence
peculiar to true concepts (Ibid. II, 15, 47). Carneades tried to reduce
these concepts to nothing by such arguments as the Sorites, but if two
things resemble one another it does not follow that they are indis-
tinguishable. The only conclusion is that truth is difficult to discover.
Finally, scepticism is self-contradictory. The Sceptic proceeds by de-
finitions and reasonings, yet he denies that there is any difference
between error and truth ; he affirms that there are representations
which are false, and yet believes that there is no difference between the
representations that are true and those that are false (Ibid. II, 9
29-41, 43).
Having thus refuted Scepticism, Antiochus founds an eclectic
dogmatism. He professes to return to the true tradition of
the Academy, which, according to him, had been broken since
the time of Arcesilaus. Plato, Aristotle, and Zeno differ, he
says, more in language than in ideas (Cic. Acad. II, 5, 15), and
here we have another argument against Scepticism. Since it is
possible to reconcile the various systems, the Sceptic can no
longer bring forward the contradictions between them as an
argument in his favour. Arius Didymus and Potamo, con-
temporaries of Augustus, were likewise eclectics.
Cicero had been taught by Philo of Larissa and Antiochus, and he
adopted to a great extent the theories of the new Academy. But if the
contradictious of the great philosophers appeared to him a sufficient
reason for doubting the possibility of speculative truth, he is in reality an
eclectic, and when he speaks of moral truths he forgets Carneades and is
as dogmatic as a Stoic. Every conviction rests ultimately, h^ says, on an
inner and immediate certainty, on our own natural feeling of truth, on a
110 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
kind of innate knowledge which precedes experience. Sunt enim ingeniis
nostris semina innata virtutum (Ttcsc. Ill, 1, 2). Natura homini dedit totem
mentem, quae omnem virtutem accipere posset, ingenidtque sine doctrina
notitias parvas rerum inaximarum (De Fin. V, 21, 59). Animum esse
ingeneratum a Deo {De Leg. I, 8, 24).
Revival of Scepticism. Enesidemus ; Agrippa : the Tropes.
Sextus Empiricus. Summary of Ancient Scepticism. Criticism
(1) of the Formal Possibility, (2) of the Results of Knowledge.
Eclecticism was the offspring of Scepticism, and partook of
its nature. To refuse to decide between rival systems of philo-
sophy was equivalent to that abstention from judgment which
was recommended by the Sceptics. The observation was soon
made that the meaning of a philosophical proposition is
determined by the system it belongs to, and that consequently
propositions borrowed from different systems are as mutually
exclusive as these systems themselves. Thus Scepticism con-
tinued side by side with Eclecticism, but from this time forth
it showed no originality. All it could do now was to unite,
order, and develop the arguments of Arcesilaus and Carneades.
This was done by the so-called new Sceptics.
Ptolemy of Cyrene, Enesidemus, Agrippa, and Sextus
Empiricus (in the two first centuries of the Christian era)
professed, however, not to belong to the New Academy, while
they borrowed from it most of their arguments. They accuse
this school of inconsistency, of having by its theory of pro-
bability brought about the eclectic dogmatism to which its
later representatives had been converted. Scepticism in its
original purity, that is to say the scepticism of Pyrrho, seemed
to them to be more secure against the attacks of dogmatism ;
but, in truth, it is difficult to say in what they differed from
the Pyrrhonians of the New Academy. The chief merit of
Enesidemus is that he collected all the different reasons for
doubting under ten heads or tropes (D.L. ix, 87 ; Sext. Em-
piricus, Adv. Math. VII, 345).
Four of them refer more especially to the subject, their aim being
to throw doubt upon the veracity of our perceptions by showing that
these contradict one another (Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hypotyp. I, 36-117). In
the first place, the same objects appear different to different animals ;
secondly, even among men there are physical and moral differences, owing
to which the same object is not perceived by all in the same way ;
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 111
thirdly, even in the same man the different senses are not always in
agreement, and sometimes they contradict one another ; fourthly, our
perception of things is affected by our physical and moral inclinations, by
the state of our health, by the fact of our being awake or asleep, at rest
or in motion, sad or joj'ful, etc. How are we to know whether we are in
a condition to perceive things exactly as they are ? Whatever our
criterion may be, it requires proof ; and in order to know whether this proof
is correct, another criterion is needed, and so on ad infinitum.
Enesidemus' six other tropes may be said to refer to the object. They
show the uncertainty and difficulty which surround our knowledge in its
relation to the object. Firstly, the same thing appears differently to us
according to the different forms it assumes ; the same substance will
appear white as a powder, and yellow or black as a solid mass. A grain
of sand appears to us to be hard, whereas a heap of sand is soft.
Secondly, the result of observations vary with circumstances. A square
tower appears to us from a distance to be round. Thirdly, things make
more or less impression on us according as we are more or less accustomed
to them. Fourthly, we cannot know things in themselves on account of
the relativity of all our representations. Fifthly, we perceive things
through a medium (air, liquids, etc.), the influence of which on our
perceptions we are unable to appreciate. Sixthly, the differences in laws
and in customs render impossible any decision as to what is true and
what is false, as to what is good and in conformity to nature (Sext. Emp.
Pyrrh. Hypotyp. I, 117-163).
Most of these arguments bear on our sensible knowledge only, but
Enesidemus adds to this criticism another which concerns our conception
of the true, and especially of causality (Emile Saisset : Enesidbne). He
also examines our conceptions of passivity, of birth and destruction, as
being connected with our notion of causality, and he tries to show that
every one of these notions involves a contradiction. As against the
Stoics, he also maintains the impossibility of inferring from phenomena to
substance, from external signs to what is hidden. As we shall see, his
arguments were developed later by Sextus Empiricus. The conclusion
arrived at by Enesidemus is that no one should affirm anything, not even
his own doubt. He wished his philosophy to be called not a doctrine
(cupecris), but a tendency (dywy?)).
Agrippa reduces the sceptical arguments or tropes to five :
Firstly, contradictions among human opinions; secondly, infinite
regress, the necessity of proving everything ; thirdly, relativity of all our
representations, which vary with the subject; fourthly, every demon-
stration amounts to apetitio principi ; fifthly, dialleloa : whatever is used I < i
prove a proposition stands itself in need of this same proposition in order
to be proved ; for example, the veracity of thought can be proved onlj
through sensible perception, and vice versa (Sext. Emp. Pyrrh, Hypotyp.
I, 164 sq.).
112 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Finally, at the end of the second century of the Christian
era, we find in Sextus Empiricus a recapitulation of all the
arguments of his forerunners.
He continually returns to the argument of the impossibility of estab-
lishing a criterion: of truth, or of proving anything, because every demon-*
stration demands another, arid so on to infinity. Not even the proposition
that man is able to judge of truth can be maintained. For with
whom would this decision rest ? With one man or with all men ?
In the former case, where is this man to be found ? In the latter, how
is an agreement between all men to be established 1 And even if we
were to grant that man has the power to judge of the truth, which of his
faculties will enable him to do so ? The senses 1 but these continually
contradict each other in different men, and in the same man from one
moment to another ; moreover, the senses only give us subjective modi-
fications and never enable us to assert anything as to the nature of things.
Can it be through the understanding ? But how could man's understanding,
which is internal, reach the external ? This last argument contains, as it
were, a presentiment of one of the problems in Kant's Critique : What
proof have we of the objectivity of the categories of human thought ?
(Pyrrh. Hypotyp. II, 18-84 ; Adv. Math. 314-445). Sextus Empiricus also
examines our notions of the true, but on this point his arguments do not
contain much beyond what he had already said concerning the criterion
of truth.
Having examined the formal possibility of knowledge,
Sextus Empiricus proceeds to attack the results arrived at
by the divers dogmatic systems of philosophy ; he develops
the arguments of his forerunners, and more especially those
of Enesidemus.
The Stoics had distinguished two kinds of signs. The first only
recall other phenomena with which by a previous experience we know
them to be associated ; in this sense lightning is the sign of thunder,
smoke of fire ; and these they call signs of things already experienced
(cr?7/xta IvSeiKTiKa). The other kind of sign reveals to us that which
we do not know through any experience ; these are indicative signs
(eKKakvirTLKa). Phenomena, for example, are not only signs that recall
to memory other phenomena, for they also reveal to us substances and
causes. Sextus Empiricus denies the existence of these indicative signs.
The sign and what is signified are, he says, two things which are relative
to one another. Now, of two correlative things one cannot be known
without the other {e.g. right and left) ; therefore we cannot understand a
sign as a sign without understanding the thing it signifies, and consequently
we should know together with it that which it is supposed to reveal to us ;
and hence the sign would be useless. The sign cannot precede in the order
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 113
of knowledge that which it signifies, therefore there are no revealing signs.
How then can we infer substance from phenomena? The latter can
make nothing known to us that we do not already know at the same time
and in the same way as themselves (Pyrrh. Hypotyp. II, 80-133 ; Adv.
Math. VIII, 141-298).
Not only, according to Sextus Empiricus {Adv. Math. IX,
207), are we unable to arrive at causes through phenomena,
but the very idea of cause involves a contradiction.
For no matter how we try to imagine it, we are unable to conceive
the relation of cause and effect. The cause must precede the effect, but
a cause is a relative thing, for it can have no existence unless in
relation to some effect. Now, correlative things are simultaneous not
only in thought but in existence. And if the cause and the effect are
.simultaneous, how are we to distinguish them? Which is the effect,
which the cause ? And how are we to conceive cause and effect as
corporeal or incorporeal ? But the corporeal cannot produce the
incorporeal ; and conversely. We are unable to conceive any relation
between these two heterogeneous terms. Again, the corporeal cannot be
produced by the corporeal, nor the incorporeal by the incorporeal, for,
were it so, that which is derived from the active substances would be
already contained in them and consequently would not have had to
become. Finally, either the cause produces its effect alone, or it requires
a matter in which to produce it. In the former case, from being one, the
cause becomes two, and, since it is its nature to produce, from being two
it will become four, and so on to infinity. But is it not absurd to make
infinity come out of unity ? And if the active principle can do nothing
without the co-operation of the passive principle, the cause being defined
as being such that the effect takes place when it is present and does not
take place when it is absent, the passive principle is as much the cause a^
the active (Adv. Math. IX, 195-276).
It will be noticed that this lengthy criticism of the con-
ception of causality is an entirely objective one, and that it in
no wise foreshadows the modern psychological method. Sextus
Empiricus endeavours, by means of arguments of the same
kind, to reduce to nothing the conceptions of diminution and
increase, and, with them, those of the transposition of parts, of
change and of motion. He analyses the notions presupposed in
physical science: space, body, rest, motion, mixture; and the proof
of the existence of God, and of the providential attributes
belonging to God which are part of the doctrine of universal
design. His arguments, which are scarcely more than a
development of those of his predecessors, end, like theirs, in t lu-
ll. II
114 THE PKOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
conclusion that all affirmations are indifferent : lo-ocrOeveia. twv
Xoyoov. Every affirmation may be contradicted by an affirma-
tion of equal value. We must therefore suspend our
judgment and act in accordance with appearances, custom,
or the need of the moment.
Neo-Platonic Mysticism : Ecstasy.
It seemed as if scepticism was to be the last word of Greek
Philosophy. The Eclectics had attempted to avert the ruin of
philosophy by appealing to our immediate knowledge, to
common sense. But there was no more harmony between the
conceptions of the different members of the eclectic school
than between the systems which they professed to reconcile ;
and this diversity was another triumph for scepticism. Truth
was not to be found either in the relation of thought to its
object nor in the reflection of thought upon itself. We must
abandon the hope of attaining truth unless we admit that it is
directly communicated to us by Him who is its eternal source,
that is, by God Himself. And this was the extreme solution
adopted by the Neo-Platonists, a solution which scepticism
had rendered necessary. Only the despair of attaining certainty
in scientific thought could have led.to this attempt to find truth
in a revelation that was above thought itself.
But how was certainty to be founded on the knowledge of a
God Whose existence it was necessary to prove ? A reply to
this question is found in the system of Plotinus. God is
within us, we are not really distinct from Him. The whole
function of philosophy is, by forcing us to return to our true
being, to make us conscious of our identity with the Divine
Being ; to render possible the ecstasy by which we are absorbed
in the supreme unity. Thus the Neo-Platonists, like the
Eclectics, make an appeal to immediate certainty. But how
could certain knowledge of the object be derived from the mere
reflection of the subject on itself ? To this question the
Eclectics had found no answer ; but it is solved when the reflec-
tion of the subject on itself is ultimately nothing else than the
union of the subject with the Supreme Principle from which
are derived both all existence and all truth.
Aristotle saw clearly that proof is possible only on principles
which themselves do not require proof. If we can find truth
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 115
through dialectic it must be that we possess it already. How
is this possession of the truth to be explained ? The soul in
her higher part dwells always in the intelligence ; she has, in the
intuition of herself, the intuition of the intelligible, of the world
of ideas (Plotinus, Enn. IV, 4, 2). But above this intellectual
intuition, in which there is still consciousness and distinction,
there is the intuition of the One, there is ecstasy, by which we
are lifted above all determinate thought and fused with
God {Ibid. VI, 9, 4). It is only through ecstasy that we
possess the principle and the unity of ideas. So long as we
have not risen to this higher intuition in which we become
one with the Absolute, there remains a duality of subject and
object, of thought and being, which stands in the way of
knowledge. Thus it is in ecstasy that the ultimate principle of
all certainty is found. But Plotinus himself admits that
ecstasy does not depend on ourselves ; we must wait for it,
we can at most prepare ourselves for it by purification through
knowledge and virtue. Certainty would seem then to be only
the privilege of some elect souls, a gift from heaven.
Christianity introduces into the Theory of Certainty a new
dement : Faith.
In the Neo-Platonic ecstasy we are immediately united to
the Absolute, the intuition of which is above intelligence. But
this ecstasy is an accidental and passing state. Quite other is
the function of Faith (vr/o-rt?). In Christian philosophy Faith,
according to St. Paul, is not only the act of a mind that assents
to the Evangelical teaching, but a feeling of trust and the need
of loving God. It is, moreover, an act of will by which we
renounce the flesh, in order to live the divine life through
communion with Christ.
I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me : (w o"e ovk eri eyw, (rj <$ eV ifj.ol
Xpio-Tos (Gal. II, 20). Thus faith takes possession of the whole soul,
renews, regenerates her, gives her new life. But man is not the author
of his own salvation. Faith comes to him from God, Who, by communi-
cating His spirit to man, brings about the birth of the spiritual mas
(TritevfAaTLKos) in him.
While he shows the part played by faith in all our know-
ledge, St. Augustine endeavours to bring about the union of
rational with religious faith.
116 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Scepticism cannot be reconciled with that need of certainty which
allows the human mind no rest without the joossession of truth. In tho
second place, scepticism involves contradictory elements : even if I doubi
I have the notion of knowledge, for doubt implies a comparison between
actual knowledge and the notion of an ideal knowledge to which the
former does not correspond (De Vera Relig. 73). Finally, doubt implies
the fact that he who doubts thinks and exists (De Trin. X, 14). Here
we have Descartes' Cogito ergo sum. It is impossible to rest satisfied
with scepticism. Now faith (in the most general sense of the word)
and knowledge presuppose one another, for they are joined in every act
of knowledge. What is knowing ? It is apprehending by reason that
which makes a thing necessary ; but before we can become conscious
of this necessity we must admit the existence of the object, we must
rely on the immediate evidence which discursive thought will afterwards
confirm (De Liber Arbit. II, 2). Thus faith, or the act of will which gives
its assent to thought (cum assensione cogitare), is the first step towards,
knowledge. That our sensible perceptions are subjectively true there
can be no doubt ; but that there is a real world corresponding to these
perceptions is a truth of which faith alone can give us certainty; and
that this sensible world contains, so to speak, supra-sensible truth is
another act of faith which precedes thought. It is therefore possible
to have faith without knowledge, but there can be no knowledge
without faith. St Augustine's ideal is neither belief without knowledge
nor knowledge without belief, but the faith which is made complete by
knowledge, or the knowledge which confirms this faith (De Utilitate
Credendi, II, 25). There is a double analogy between religious faith
and the faith that provides the object of our knowledge. Religious
faith implies an act of will and of love ; to know the good we must
love and will it. Moreover, religious faith also finds outside itself
its object, which consists in the supernatural truths given to us in
revelation.
The Middle Ages : Gradual Separation of Faith from
Reason results in Scepticism. Montaigne. Charron.
The Mediaeval philosophers, like St. Augustine, regarded
faith as an experience : the experience of an ethical and
spiritual life as opposed to external experience. For the'
ancients, moral life depended on knowledge, " man acts as he
thinks." For the great Scholastics, on the contrary, the
experience of the life of the soul, that profound consciousness
of a spiritual nature which is faith, is both the perfection and
the condition of scientific knowledge. Faith is not opposed to
knowledge ; it prepares the way for knowledge. Truth cannot,
contradict itself.
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 117
St. Anselm expounds with much force the doctrine : Non quaero
intellegere ut credam, sed credo ut intelligam. I believe in order to under-
stand, quia nisi credidero, non intelligam, for if I did not believe I should
not understand (Proslog. 1 ). St. Thomas does not go quite so far ; he thinks
that revealed truths such as those of the Trinity, original sin, etc., cannot be
proved by reason, not because they are against reason, but because they
are above it, and that is why they are objects of faith {Summa Theol. I,
Quaest. 32, Art. 1). Faith in man pre-supposes the co-operation of grace,
or, as it were, a call from God {interior instinctus Dei invitantis). It depends
more on the will than on the intellect. The mind adheres to truths
of a supernatural order, not by the force of an irresistible demonstration,
but by obeying the will. Reason can only refute the arguments of the
enemies of the Church by showing that they are false or not necessary
(falsas, non necessarias). Faith, like grace, does not destroy nature but
completes and perfects it. Reason pre-supposes the preambles of faith
(praeambtda fidei), and in this sense is subordinate to faith, naturalis
ratio subservit fidei {Summa Theol. II, qu. 2).
Filially, when, with William of Ockam, Nominalism prevailed,
faith was separated from and even opposed to knowledge.
Eealism, by representing the very ideas of God as the objects of
knowledge, was able to find harmony between reason and faith.
Nominalism reduced science to a pure formalism. It was no
longer Divine ideas that were the basis of our reasoning*, but
words, nomina, flatus vocis. Eevealed truths were therefore
imposed by faith, and faith had nothing in common with
reason, which had only a relative value. Thus it would seem that
the philosophy of the Middle Ages had failed in its task : it
did not succeed in reconciling faith with reason. But this was
because faith was then identified with the dogmas of a
positive religion. Nevertheless a great truth was brought to
light, namely, that true philosophy, if not science in the
strict sense of the word, cannot be separated from the
experience of our ethical and spiritual life; that philosophy is
made up of ideas revealed by this experience ant I reflection.
It became a habit amongst the bold philosophers of the
Renaissance to draw a distinction between theological ami
philosophical truths, and to assert that they might co-exist
although opposed to one another. Doctrines submissively
accepted as articles of faith were rejected in the name
of reason. lint this separation of reason and faith
divided the human mind against itself. It was inevitable
that thought should openly return to the ancient tradition, and
118 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
that reason should once more be reinstated. This was done
by Descartes. If men are to rest content with the mediaeval
. conception, with the antithesis between reason and faith, the
consequence will be a scientific scepticism.
y This is the view taken by Montaigne, whose whole work is
a negation of what had been affirmed by the great Scholastics.
His essays, indeed, mark the end of mediaeval thought,
although he merely resumes the arguments of ancient scepticism
concerning the formal possibility of, and the results obtained
by knowledge. Montaigne's friend and disciple Charron thinks
that a very good method of introducing and establishing Chris-
tianity among an unbelieving and infidel people would be to
make them disciples of Pyrrho. Eeason, being then convinced
of its own impotence, would easily submit to revelation, for,
he says, never would a Pyrrhonian or an Academician be a
heretic : they are two opposite things.
Descartes : Clear and Distinct Ideas ; Divine Truthfulness ;
Reconciliation.
Was there then no choice between scepticism and revelation ?
Some sought to escape from this alternative, Galileo and Coper-
nicus through the natural bent of their scientific genius ;
Telesio and Bacon because they had a presentiment of modern
scientific methods ; Giordano Bruno and Nicholas of Cusa
through their philosophic enthusiasm. It was the spirit of
antiquity come to life again, though not yet fully conscious of
itself. Descartes was the first to attempt, with a full con*
sciousness of what he wanted and of what had to be done, to
re-establish an independent philosophy, and that not only
de facto but de jure.
The introduction to his philosophy is, as it were, a summary
of the whole history of human thought since the Middle Ages.
He puts aside faith and at once finds himself confronted by
scepticism : how was he to escape from it ? By employing
it as a method. We have accepted most of our opinions with-
out reflection from our teachers and our desires, and we must
set them aside {Disc, de la M6th., 2nd Part). Since our senses-
sometimes deceive us, we cannot trust them at all. Some
men make mistakes in their reasoning concerning even the
simplest things in geometry, hence we shall reject as false all
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 119
those reasons which we now take to be demonstrative. Lastly,
as a malicious spirit, as cunning and deceitful as it is powerful,
may be making sport of us and using his skill to deceive us,
we shall suspend our judgment on all things (1st Medit.).
In its methodical doubt Cartesian philosophy starts from
scepticism. But out of this very doubt does not an irresistible
truth emerge ? I who doubt, think, I think, therefore I am.
And this is the starting point of modern thought ; it establishes
the thinking subject, and so clearly, that henceforward the
facts of consciousness at least, and the manifestations of
thought, are beyond the reach of the most audacious scepticism.
All that the latter can now question is the correspondence
between these subjective phenomena and reality, that is to say,
the existence of objective certainty.
How is this objective certainty to be attained ? This is the
most critical point in the Cartesian theory. When I say that
" I think, therefore I am," what is it that assures me of the
truth of this proposition ? It is that I know clearly that in
order to think I must exist. I may therefore take it as a
truth that those things which I conceive very clearly and
distinctly are all true. The clearness and distinctness of ideas
is therefore the criterion of their truth. Starting from this
principle, Descartes proves the existence of God. But having
clone so, he seems to invert the order of his first principles, for
he adds that it is because God exists that what we can see
clearly and distinctly is true.
"The principle which I have already taken as a rule, viz., that all
the things which we clearly and distinctively conceive are true, is certain
only because He is or exists, and because He is a perfect being, and because
all we possess is derived from Him. Whence it follows that our ideas or
notions, which to the extent of their clearness or distinctness are real and
proceed from God, must to that extent be true" {Disc, de la Me'th. 4th Ft.).
But is there not here a vicious circle ? Reason proves the
existence of God, and God guarantees the validity of reason.
Our demonstration of the existence of God is valid only if Be
is already shown to exist. God is proved by the natural light
of reason, and without God this natural light could only be a.
source of error. In order to understand how Descartes
escapes from this seemingly vicious circle we must observe Ins
view of certainty. The problem is not to pass from what
120 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
appears to us as true to what is true in itself, but to attain
absolute certainty in the realm of thought. The doubt we
want to get rid of is the doubt of a man who has just done a
sum of addition and asks himself whether he has made a
mistake in it.
" When in thinking we have a clear conception of a certain truth, we are
naturally inclined to believe this truth. And if our belief is so firm that
we can never have any reason to doubt that which we believe in this way,
we require nothing more ; for we have with regard to this matter as much
certainty as one can reasonably desire. For what matters it to us if some
one were to suppose that that of which we are so strongly persuaded is
false in the eyes of God or of the angels, and is therefore, absolutely
speaking, false V (Answer to the 2nd Objection).
We must distinguish between an immediate intuition and the
act of memory implied in every deduction that is at all lengthy.
When we fix our mind on an evident truth, such as the cogito
ergo sum, there is no room for doubt. Our intuition, that is
to say, our clear and distinct knowledge of the truth before us
does not require the guarantee of the divine veracity. But
when we make a lengthy deduction, or when we remember
certain conclusions without thinking of the principles by which
they are established, and without going once more through the
reasoning by which they are justified, only the knowledge of
God, who is the warrant of the validity of our thought, can
give us certainty. The knowledge of the atheist is not true
science, because any knowledge on which doubt may be thrown
cannot be called by the name of science (Ibid.).
We have now escaped from the circle in which we seemed
to be imprisoned. The cogito ergo sum is a clear and dis-
tinct truth at the moment when we think it, and as there is
no thought that does not imply the cogito, the latter never falls
into the realm of memory. From the cogito we are led to the
existence of God without going beyond the limits of the
irresistible evidence which leaves no room for doubt. When
we have reached the idea of God, we have the certainty that
our mind is made for truth ; and this certainty extends to the
premisses which have served to prove the existence of God.
" In the first instance, we are sure that God exists, because we give our
attention to the reasons which prove His existence ; but after that, it is
enough for us to remember having conceived a thing clearly in order to be
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 121
sure that this thing is true, which would not be the case if we did not know
that God exists and that He cannot deceive us" (Answer to the lfth
Objection, 2nd Part).
To sum up : God is the principle of knowledge as well as of
existence. In Him is the theoretical basis of certainty; but
its practical criterion is in the clearness and distinctness of
ideas. By an intuition which leaves no room for doubt we
know the existence of thought and the existence of God, which
is immediately deducible from the existence of thought.
As for the existence of the world it is guaranteed to us by
the divine veracity alone. In the same way the knowledge of
this world is subordinate to the existence of God, for it is
because God exists and because He is perfect that distinct
realities correspond to our clear and distinct ideas.
Malebranche : Certitude and Vision in God.
According to Descartes, the truthfulness of God assures us
that real things correspond to our clear and distinct ideas. We
have thus three terms before us : the ideas of the mind, reality,
and God. Malebranche simplifies Descartes' system by reduc-
ing these three terms to one. The ideas are reality itself, and
our mind, which apprehends them by an immediate intuition,
does not require to be guaranteed by God, since in so far as it
has clear and distinct ideas it sees God Himself.
"If our bodies move in a corporeal world, our minds are ((instantly
being carried into an ideal world which affects them, and thus becomes
perceptible to them" (Entretiens I, 5). To deny the reality of the ideas
would be to assert that the non-existent can be thought. "All the
things of which I think, are, or at least exist as long as I am thinking of
them. When I think of a circle or a number, of Being, or the I nlinite, or
of a certain finite being, I perceive realities, for if the circle of which I
am thinking was nothing, when thinking of it I would be thinking of
nothing; now the circle of which I am thinking has properties that do nol
belong to any other figure, therefore this circle exists at the time I am
thinking it, because the non-existent has no properties, and one non-
existent thing cannot be different from another non-existent thing 1
(Ibid. I, 4). All these ideas exist in God, Who is the basis of their
reality. "All our clear ideas are in God as far as their intelligible realii \
is concerned. It is only in Him that we see them, only in the universal
reason which through them enlightens all minds. If our ideas are
eternal, immutable, necessary, it must be that they exist in an i ratable
122 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Being ; our minds dwell in the Universal Reason in that Intelligible
Substance which contains the ideas of all the truths discovered by us "
(Ibid. I, 10).
Thus the principle of certainty is our union, or rather our
oneness with God. Truth is God present in us, thinking in
us ; the intelligible is the real and the absolute. For Male-
branche, as for Descartes, the practical criterion of truth is
the clearness of our ideas. " In order to know the works of
God we must consult the ideas He gives us ; those which are
clear ; those on which He has formed these works. We run a
great risk, if we follow any other method " (Ibid. Ill, 12). " All
our clear ideas are in God in so far as they have intelligible
reality. It is only in Him that we see them" (Ibid. I, 18).
What, then, is the use of the material world on this theory ? It
has none. If it did not exist, nothing would be changed in our
knowledge of the intelligible world (Ibid. I, 5). We could even,
absolutely speaking, have the same feelings independently
of objects (Ibid. I, 8 ; VI, 4). And on the other hand, if the
sensible world did exist we should have no means of perceiving
it ; why then affirm its existence ? It cannot be known
immediately, and the feelings which lead us to believe in it
are purely subjective modifications.
" Bodies cannot act on our mind nor be present to it, and our mind can
only know them in the ideas which represent them, and can only perceive
them through the modes and feelings of which they cannot be more than
the occasional cause " (Entr. VI, 5). The external world cannot be proved.
" The volitions of God which refer to the world are not contained in the
notion we have of Him, and since only these volitions can give being to
creatures, it is clear that only those truths can be demonstrated which
have a necessary connection with their principles. Thus, since we
cannot make sure of the existence of bodies through demonstration,
there is no other way of doing so except through the authority of
revelation " (Ibid. 6).
These divers sensations by which we are affected are the
results of the general laws of the union of the soul and the
body, and are nothing else than natural revelations by which
God informs us that we have a body and that we are
surrounded by other bodies. But our senses sometimes
deceive us ; hence speculative doubt is still possible, and we
must fall back on siqiernatural revelation.
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 123
"Faith provides us with a proof which it is impossible to resist.
Whether there are bodies or not, it is certain that we see them, and that
God alone can have given us sensations of them. It is therefore God
who puts before my mind the appearance of the men with whom I
live, of the books I study, of the preachers I hear. . . . Now, faith
tells me that God has created the heavens and the earth, that the
Scriptures are a Divine Book, This Book, as it appears to me, tells me
positively that there are thousands and thousands of creatures and
things. Behold, now, all my appearances changed into reality. Faith
being pre-supposed, the existence of bodies is strictly demonstrated '*
Ibid. 8).
To sum up : our soul stands in two relations ; one of these
is immediate and necessary, a relation to the Author of its
being, to the Universal Eeason, which is the place of spirits as
space is the place of bodies ; the other relation is mediate and
contingent, though governed by general laws, a relation to the
body and through it to other bodies. The soul can therefore
be only indirectly assured of the existence of bodies, including
its own. It is only to God that the soul is immediately united.
Thus, vision in God, which is the effect of the constant action
of God upon us, or, in other words, of the connection between
our reason and the Universal Eeason, is the foundation of all
certainty.
Spinoza : In so far as it possesses Adequate Ideas the Human
Mind is one with the Divine Mind.
To say : "by substance I mean that which is in itself and
is conceived through itself. ... by mode I mean that
which exists and is perceived through something other than
itself," is to assume that things have existence by reason of
and in proportion to our conception of them ; is in fact to
identify Being with thought. Thus in Spinoza we find once
more the principle of clear ideas. His Ethics, even in its
external form, is the most striking application of this theory.
" A true idea (for we possess a true idea) is something different from its
object (ideatum). Thus a circle is different from the idea of .1 circle
(On the Improvement of the Understanding, trans, by Elwes, p. 12). A
true idea must correspond with its ideate or object (Eth. Part I, ax. V I i.
How are we to know that an idea corresponds with its object '. Kor sm-li
a distinction to be possible, the true idea must he i-ecogni/ed l>\ intrinsic
marks. That which constitutes the reality of a true thought must be
124 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
sought in the thought itself, and deduced from the nature of the under-
standing. A true idea is distinguished from a false idea not so much by
its extrinsic object as by its intrinsic nature . . . whence it follows that
there is in ideas something real whereby the true are distinguished from
the false" (On the Improvement of the Understanding, pp 25, 26).
The intrinsic quality of a true idea is that it is adequate.
An adequate idea is one that is in God, inasmuch as He consti-
tutes the essence of the human soul. When an idea is in God,
not only inasmuch as He is the essence of the human soul,
but in so far as He has at the same time the idea of another
thing, this idea is only partially in us, in other words it is
inadequate. It is precisely in this privation of knowledge that
lies the falseness of ideas. All ideas are true and adequate in
God. We recognize an adequate idea in that it is clear and
distinct, and inadequate in that it is mutilated and confused
(Eth. II, 35, 36). As the adequate idea is of itself true, the
criterion of the truth of ideas is their clearness and
distinctness. " Ideas that are clear and distinct can never be
false " ; but this is because the human mind is in their
case not distinct from the divine.
The clear and distinct idea not only excludes fiction and
falseness, but doubt.
" In proportion as the understanding is smaller and its experi-
ence multiplex, so will its power of coining fictions be larger, whereas, as
the understanding increases, its capacity for entertaining fictitious ideas
becomes less {On the Improvement of the Understanding, p. 21). If there be
a God or omniscient Being, such an one cannot form fictitious hypotheses.
. . . Fiction cannot be concerned with eternal truths (Ibid. p. 19). . . .
We need therefore be in no fear of forming hypotheses as long as we have
a clear and distinct perception of what is involved" (Ibid. p. 23).
The clear and distinct idea also excludes doubt, because
doubt is merely the result of two confused ideas which contradict
each other. A true idea carries with it immediate certitude.
" He who has a true idea knows at the same time that he has a true
idea, nor can he doubt of the truth of the thing (The Ethics, Prt. II,
Prop. 43). . . . What can there be more clear and more certain than
a true idea as a standard of truth I Even as light displays both itself
and darkness, so is truth a standard both of itself and of falsity
{Ibid, note). . . . Our mind, in so far as it perceives things truly, is part
of the infinite intellect of God ; therefore, the clear and distinct ideas
of the mind are as necessarily true as the ideas of God (Ibid.). . . .
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 125
No one can know the nature of the highest certainty unless he possesses
an adequate idea or the subjective essence of a thing ; for certain tv is
identical with such subjective essence" (On the Improvement of the Under-
standing, p. 13).
Holding such a theory, Spinoza had naturally no sympathy
with the sceptics. If a clear idea carries certitude along with
it, lack of certitude comes from the absence of any clear idea ;
and as it is the nature of the understanding to have clear ideas,
the sceptic is by this same fact relegated to the order of brutes.
The sceptic requires proof of proof ad infinitum.
" To this I make answer that, if by some happy chance anyone had
adopted this method in his investigations of nature that is, if he had
acquired new ideas in the proper order, according to the standard of
the original true idea, he would never have doubted the truth of his know-
ledge, inasmuch as truth, as we have shown, makes itself manifest, and
knowledge of all things would flow as it were spontaneously towards
him " (Ibid. p. 16).
The Ethics is, in fact, Spinoza's reply to scepticism. It
reproduces the order of nature and thus makes doubt impossible.
" If there yet remains some sceptic who doubts of our primary
truth, and of all the deductions we make, taking such truth as our
standard, he must either be arguing in bad faith, or we must confess
that there are some men in complete mental blindness, either innate
or due to misconceptions. . . . With such persons one should not speak
of sciences. ... If they deny, grant, or gainsay, they know not that
they deny, grant, or gainsay, so that they ought to be regarded as
automatics utterly devoid of intelligence" (Ibid. p. 17).
Leibnitz : Intuitive, Demonstrative, and Sensible Certitude.
Leibnitz distinguishes three kinds of knowledge, the intuitive,,
the demonstrative, and the sensible (New Essays, IV, 2),
and he attributes certitude to these three kinds, which he
calls certain knowledge, in contrast to probable knowledge
(Ibid. 14). Thus there are three kinds of certitude, the intuitive,
the demonstrative, and the sensible.
Intuitive certitude comprises two classes of truths : primary
truths of fact, and primary truths of reason, both of which
are immediately known. Primary truths of fact are the
result of an immediate inner experience: e.g. the general
proposition, / think, therefore I am, or the particular proposi-
tion, / think of such or such an object.
126 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
" The primary truths of reason are those which I call by the general
name of identical. . . . And in this way all adequate definitions contain
primary truths of reason, and consequently intuitive knowledge" (New
Essays, IV, ii, 1). " Now this intuition which makes known our existence to
ourselves makes it known to us with an evidence complete, incapable of
being proved, and having no need of proof so that even when I attempt to
doubt all things this doubt itself does not allow me to doubt my own
existence " (IV, ix, 3). " Truths of reason are necessary, and those of
fact are contingent. . . . You see by this that all primary truths of
reason or of fact have this in common, that they cannot be proved by any-
thing more certain " (IV, ii, ]). " And I add that the immediate apper-
ception of our existence and of our thoughts furnishes us the first truths
a posteriori, or of fact, i.e. the first experiences; just as identical projsosi-
tions contain the first truths a priori, or of reason, i.e. the first lights (les
premieres lumieres). Both are incapable of proof, and may be called
immediate, the former because of the immediate relation of the under-
standing and its object, the latter because of the immediate relation of
the subject and the predicate " (IV, ix, 2).
Demonstrative certainty can be reduced to intuitive cer-
tainty. The act by which we draw a conclusion is a simple
-act of intuition which involves in a single apperception both
premisses and conclusion. Demonstrative certainty is merely
intuitive certainty applied to the relation between propositions
instead of to a single truth.
There remains sensible certainty. " We know our own
existence by intuition, that of God by demonstration, and
that of other objects through sensation " (Ibid. IV, ix, 2).
That we have in sensation the idea of an object external to
ourselves is incontestable. The question is whether we have
the right to trust this instinctive belief. According to
Leibnitz, sensible knowledge, as well as the other kinds of
knowledge, gives certainty. But again, a criterion is required
to distinguish real sensible knowledge from the illusions of our
waking hours or of our dreams. This criterion cannot be
the liveliness of the representations.
" Although feelings are wont to be more vivid than imagina-
tions, it is nevertheless a fact that there are cases where imaginative
persons are impressed as much, or perhaps more, by their imaginations
than others are by the truth of things. So that I think the true criterion
concerning the objects of the senses is the connection of the phenomena,
i.e. the connection of that which takes place in different places and times,
and in the experience of different men who are themselves each to the
SCEPTICISM AND CEETITUDE 127
others very important phenomena in this respect. And the connection of
the phenomena, which guarantees the truths of fact in respect to sensible
things outside of us, is verified by means of the truths of reason just as
the phenomena of optics are explained by geometry " {Ibid. IV, ii, 14).
Sensible certainty rests then on the primary truths of
reason : it consists of inner direct experiences subjected to
the law of rational truth, and is thus a form of intuitive
certainty. Leibnitz, like all the Cartesians, does not allow any
direct value to sensible certainty. Whether the union of the
soul and the body is due to the laws of occasional causes or to
a pre-established harmony, we must always go back to the
Author of these laws for a guarantee of the existence of a
reality external to ourselves.
"... Our thoughts come to us from the depths of our own nature,
other creatures being unable to have an immediate influence upon the
soul. Besides, the ground of our certitude in regard to universal and
eternal truths is in the ideas themselves . . . and the basis of the truth of
contingent and singular things is in the succession, which causes these
phenomena of the senses to be rightly united as the intelligible truths
demand (IV, iv, 5). It must, however, be admitted that none of this
certitude is of the highest degree. . . . For it is not impossible, meta-
physically speaking, that our knowledge may be a continuous dream
lasting as long as life ; but it is a thing as contrary to reason as would be
the idea of a book put together by chance, by throwing the type pell-
mell " (IV, ii, 14).
Sensible certainty rests ultimately on rational certainty,
on the harmony between phenomena and the requirements
of reason. " The truth of sensible things is justified by
their connection, which depends upon the intellectual truths
grounded in reason and upon constant observations of the
sensible things themselves, even when the reasons do not
appear" {Ibid, xi, 10).
Berkeley attempts to re-establish Sensible Certainty.
Berkeley desired to avoid scepticism; in fact his Idealism
(or rather Imniaterialism) was the result of his attempt
to do so.
"That there is no such thing as what philosophers call material substance
I am seriously persuaded ; but if I were made to sec anything absurd or
sceptical in this I should then have the same reason to renounce this that
I imagine I have now to reject the contrary opinion" (1st Dial. Hylas and
Phil ).
128 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
The originality of Berkeley consisted in his denying the
existence of matter, in order to restore to sensible certainty
its full authority.
"When therefore they [sensible things] are actually perceived there
can be no doubt of their existence. Away, then, with all that scepticism,
all those ridiculous philosophical doubts. What a jest is it for a
philosopher to question the existence of sensible things till he hath it
proved from the veracity of God ; or to pretend our knowledge in this
point falls short of intuition or demonstration ! I might as well doubt
of my own being, as of the being of those things I actually see and feel.
... I do therefore assert that I am as certain as of my own being, that
there are bodies or corporal substances (meaning the things I perceive
by my senses) " (3rd Dialogue).
Here Berkeley attacks an opinion which was common to all
Cartesians, namely, that the existence of mind is more certain
than the existence of bodies. The knowledge we acquire
through our senses is as certain and as immediate as that
given to us by consciousness.
Even the existence of G-od he founds on sensible knowledge.
" To me it is evident for two reasons you allow of, that sensible things
cannot exist otherwise than in a mind or spirit. Whence I conclude, not
that they have no real existence but that, seeing they depend not on my
thought and have an existence distinct from being perceived by me,
there must be some other mind wherein they exist. As sure, therefore, as
the sensible world really exists, so sure is there an infinite omnipresent
Spirit, who contains and supports it " {2nd Dialogue).
Thus Berkeley reverses the order adopted in the Cartesian
school. Sensible certainty is not founded on divine veracity ;
it is, on the contrary, on the veracity of our senses that the
existence of God is founded. We have only two kinds of
certainty : intuitive or immediate certainty, which comprises
the data of sense as well as those of consciousness, and
demonstrative or mediate certainty which is based on the
former. In this way Berkeley reconciles his Idealism (or
Immaterialism) with a firm belief in the veracity of our
senses ; his Idealism is in fact intended to guarantee their
veracity. If he rejects the existence of a material sub-
stance, if he makes the reality of things lie in ideas, it
is because the opposite theory inevitably ends in scepticism.
" Can you produce so much as one argument against the
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 129
reality of corporeal things, or in behalf of that avowed utter
ignorance of their natures, which does not suppose their
reality to consist in an external absolute existence ? Upon
this supposition, indeed, the objections from the change of
colours in a pigeon's neck or the appearance of the broken
oar in the water, must be allowed to have weight" (3rd Die/.).
Empirical Scepticism of Hume ; Theory of Belief.
Locke had not considered what might be the ultimate
consequences of his empirical theory of human knowledge.
His good sense made all extremes repugnant to him. He
had accepted certainty as a fact, and based it entirely upon
intuitive knowledge.
" This part of knowledge is irresistible, and like bright sunshine forces
itself immediately to be perceived as soon as ever the mind turns its view
that way ; and leaves no room for hesitation, doubt, or examination, but
the mind is presently filled with the clear light of it. It is on this
intuition that depend all the certainty and evidence of all our knowledge,
which certainty everyone finds to be so great that he cannot imagine, and
therefore does not require, a greater ; for a man cannot conceive himself
capable of a greater certainty than to know that any idea in his mind is
such as he perceives it to be ; and that two ideas, wherein he perceives a
difference, are different and not precisely the same. He that demands a
greater certainty than this, demands he knows not what, and shows only
that he has a mind to be a sceptic, without being able to be so " (Locke,
On the Human Understanding, IV", II, 1).
Hume, with the boldness of a true philosopher, draws the
sceptical inferences which are logically implied in empiricism.
He carried on Berkeley's analytic method and founded
modern scepticism. Like Berkeley, he accepts all that is
immediately revealed to us by our senses, and nothing
more. Because our direct experience never makes known to
us a substratum of any kind, he denies the existence of any
substance, either spiritual or material, and reduces to a
collection of sensations, not only the notion of matter, but also
that of mind. Our internal like our external experience
gives us nothing but perceptions. The idea of an ego is
therefore reducible to a series of sensations. There is then
only one thing regarding which certainty is possible, namely,
our perceptions and the relations between them, and certainty
has only one source, namely, our immediate experience.
ii. i
130 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
"Now since nothing is ever present to the mind but perceptions, and
since all ideas are derived from something antecedently present to the
mind, it follows that 'tis impossible for us so much as to conceive or form
an idea of any thing specifically different from ideas and impressions.
Let us fix our attention out of ourselves as much as possible : let us
chase our imagination to the heavens, or to the utmost limits of the
universe, we never really advance a step beyond ourselves, nor can we
conceive any kind of existence, but those perceptions, which have
appeared in that narrow compass. This is the universe of the imagina-
tion, nor have we any idea but what is there produced" {Treatise of
Human Nature ; Of the Understanding, Part II, Sect. VI).
But, if every object of knowledge can be reduced by critical
reflection into impressions and ideas, or copies of impressions
(see Vol. I, Ch. Ill, Problem of External Perception), it is
certainly not in that form that the human mind appears to
itself. Hume had therefore to explain how thought remains
possible on his hypothesis ; how it is that we do not attribute
existence equally to all our perceptions ; how fact is dis-
tinguished from fancy. All the objects to which we apply
our reason may be divided into two kinds : Relations of Ideas,
and Matters of Fact. To the first class belong the mathematical
sciences geometry, algebra, etc. Their characteristic is that
judgments concerning them may be formed by the operation of
the mind alone, without regard to what takes place in fact
in the universe. The propositions of Euclid remain true
whether there are triangles or circles in the natural world
or not.
As regards matters of fact, the imagination can always
conceive two contrary phenomena as possible, because such
conceptions are not self-contradictory. The judgment, " the
sun will not rise to-morrow," is as intelligible as the judgment,
" the sun will rise to-morrow." What then, beyond the actual
testimony of our senses, is the nature of the evidence which
shall assure us of the real existence of matters of fact ? All
our reasoning concerning matters of fact is based on the
relation of cause and effect ; but the principle of causality is
nothing else than habit.
"After the constant conjunction of two objects, heat and flame, for
instance, weight and solidity, we are determined by custom alone to
expect the one from the appearance of the other. This hypothesis seems
even the only one, which explains the difficulty why we draw from a
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 131
thousand instances an inference which we are not able to draw from one
instance, that is in no respect different from them. Reason is incapable
of any such variation. The conclusions which it draws from considering
one circle are the same which it would form upon surveying all the
circles in the universe. . . . Custom, then, is the great guide of human
life. It is that principle alone which renders our experience useful to us
.and makes us expect for the future, a similar train of events with those
which have appeared in the past. Without the influence of custom, we
should be entirely ignorant of every matter of fact, beyond what i
immediately present to the memory and senses. . . . Having found, in
many instances, that any two kinds of objects, flame and heat, snow and
cold, have always been conjoined together ; if flame and snow be pre-
sented anew to the senses the mind is carried by custom to expect heat or
cold, and to believe, that such a quality does exist, and will discover itself
upon a nearer approach. ... It is an operation of the soul, when we are
so situated, as unavoidable as to feel the passion of love when we receive
benefits, or hatred, when we meet with injuries. All these ope rat inns
are a species of natural instincts which no reasoning or process of thought
and understanding is able either to produce or to prevent" {Inquiry
concerning the Human Understanding, V, 1).
We are now able to determine the difference between fact
and fiction.
"'Tis also evident, that the idea of existence is nothing different from
the idea of any object, and that when after the simple conception of
anything, we conceive it as existent, we in reality make no addition to or
alteration on our first idea. . . . But as 'tis certain there is a great
difference betwixt the simple conception of the existence of an object
and the belief of it, and as this difference lies not in the parts or com-
position of the idea which we conceive, it follows that it must lie in the
manner in which we conceive it. ... So that as belief does nothing but
vary the manner in which we conceive any object, it can only bestow on
our ideas an additional force and vivacity" {Treatise of Human Nature,
Bk. I, Pt. Ill, 7).
Fact, then, is only distinguished from fiction by the feeling
which accompanies it. The difference is a purely subjective
one.
"I conclude, by an induction which seems to me very evident, that an
opinion or belief is nothing but an idea, that is different from a lift ion,
not in the nature or the order of its parts, but in the manner of its bin-
conceived. But when I would explain this manner, I scarce find any word
that fully answers the case, but am obliged to have recourse to everyone's
feeling. ... An idea assented to feeh different from a fictitious idea,
that the fancy alone presents to us. And this different feeling I
132 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
endeavour to explain by calling it a superior force, or vivacity, or solidity,
or firmness, or steadiness. This variety of terms, which may seem so
unphilosophical, is intended only to express that act of the mind, which
renders realities more present to us than fictions, causes them to weigh
more in the thought, and gives them a superior influence on the passions
and imagination " {Ibid. Appendix).
Iii the case of an actual sensation, its liveliness, which is
greater than that of images, suffices to distinguish it from a
mere illusion. But in a case where the object is absent am I
incapable of distinguishing the real from the imaginary ? Am
I in such a state of indetermination as to expect that a par-
ticular object may be followed, indifferently, by any other
object ? The future is not indeterminate any more than the
present, nor is it given over to illusion ; for habit and the
feeling by which it is characterized intervene. When I throw
a piece of wood into the fire, I expect to see a flame, and
I believe that there will be one.
" Belief is nothing but a more vivid, lively, forcible, firm, steady con-
ception of an object than what the imagination alone is ever able to attain.
. . . And this manner of conception arises from a customary conjunc-
tion of the object with something present to the memory or senses. . . .
Whenever any object is presented to the memory or senses, it immedi-
ately, by the force of custom, carries the imagination to conceive that
object, which is usually conjoined to it ; and this conception is attended
with a feeling or sentiment, different from the loose reveries of the fancy '"
{Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, V, 2).
Thus there is no intrinsic difference between the real and
the fictitious. All that differs is our inward feeling. We
believe some things, we do not believe others : this is all that
can be said. But is this difference of feeling justified by the
nature of things ? We cannot know, for we do not even know
whether there are things. Positive knowledge is based on the
principle of causality, and this principle is only a habit and
merely expresses a subjective necessity ; it does not govern
facts, but is derived from them. This sceptical analysis might
well discourage us, if nature had not given the strength of an
instinct, or of a mechanical tendency, to this belief. " Nature, by
an absolute and uncontrollable necessity has determined us to
judge as well as to breathe and feel. . . . Seasoning and belief
is some sensation or peculiar manner of conception, which 'tis.
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 133
impossible for mere ideas or reflections to destroy " {Treatise,
Bk. I, Part IV, Sect. 1).
We have seen that Hume separates the beliefs founded on
intuition from those based on demonstration, or the relations of
ideas.
" With regard to propositions that are proved by intuition or demon-
stration . . . the person who assents, not only conceives the ideas,
according to the proposition, but is necessarily determined to conceive
them in that particular manner, either immediately, or by the intei'posi-
tion of other ideas. . . . Nor is it possible for the imagination to conceive
anything contrary to a demonstration " (Ibid. Part III, 7).
Our belief in the relations of ideas is also a subjective feeling,
but it has the peculiar characteristic of necessity. We cannot
conceive the contrary of mathematical truths. Nevertheless,
there are reasons for doubting them.
" Our reason must be considered as a kind of cause, of which truth is
the natural effect ; but such a one as, by the irruption of other causes, and
by the inconstancy of our mental powers, may frequently be prevented.
By this means all knowledge degenerates into probability ; and this
probability is greater or less, according to our experience of the veracity
or deceitfulness of our understanding, and according to the simplicity or
intricacy of the question" (Ibid. TV, 1).
It is not easy to see how Hume, on his own principles, was
justified in making this distinction between mathematical
and other knowledge. For, on the empirical hypothesis, the
former, not less than the latter, is concerned with facts alone.
Stuart Mill had only to show by his theory of inseparable
association that the mathematical definitions and axioms are
arrived at by induction, like all other truths, in order to com-
plete the sceptical work of Hume.
In modern times scepticism has taken the form of Pheno-
menalism. According to this doctrine, certainty is merely a
subjective state of the mind. There is no such thing as a
principle of thought. We have only mental habits. Our
judgments and reasonings are happy accidents, facts which must
not be analysed too closely, lest we reduce them t thing.
To one who reflects, certainty would be impossible even as a
subjective state, were not the force of nature greater than
that of all the arguments of the sceptics. Knowledge is tin;
result of our past experience, which, by induction we project
134 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
into the future. As for this induction itself, it is an unex-
plained mental operation which is instinctive and natural to us.
But the human mind could never be convinced by any reason-,
ing from the principle that, " Cases we have not experienced
must resemble those we have experienced."
Kant : Criterion of Truth ; certitude, Faith and Opinion ;
Scientific Certitude ; Impossibility of Metaphysics ; Moral Faith.
The problem of knowledge seemed now to have gone back to
the point at which Greek Philosophy had left it. Hume, in
fact, alludes to the sages of the Academy as the ideal philo-
sophers. The great Rationalistic systems of Descartes and
Leibnitz seemed, like those of Plato and Aristotle long ago,
to have had no other effect than to provoke a more lively
reaction on the part of scepticism. One thing, however, had,
in modern times, assumed an importance which it did not
possess in antiquity. For two centuries science had been
independent of philosophy, and, while metaphysical systems
were conflicting with and superseding one another, science was
progressing with a continuous development. Here was a fact
which scepticism now found itself obliged to take into account.
The arguments which the ancients and Montaigne based on
our ignorance of natural things, now appeared childish and
superannuated. Hume dared not now advocate the suspension
of judgment, or attack the results of science. Science could
bid defiance to scepticism, for it had success on its side. He
who would offer a defence and a guarantee of science on
philosophical grounds would find himself supported by science
itself. Kant recognized this, and undertook the part. He
desired to escape from Hume's scepticism, and to give science
a sure basis without making it rest on metaphysical dogmatism,
which seemed fated to be for ever bringing about its own
destruction.
Kant applies to the problem of certitude his distinction
between the subject and the object, the matter and the form
of knowledge. What is the criterion of truth ? Shall we
find it in the object of knowledge ?
" Truth is said to consist in the agreement of knowledge with the
object. . . . Then my knowledge, in order to be true, must agree
with the object. Now, I can only compare the object with my knowledge
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 135
by this means, namely, by taking knowledge of it. My knowledge, then,
is to be verified by itself, which is far from being sufficient for truth. For
as the object is external to me, and the knowledge is in me, I can only
judge whether my knowledge of the object agrees with my knowledge of
the object. Such a circle in explanation was called by the ancients
Biallelos, and the logicians were accused of this fallacy by the sceptics,
who remarked that this account of truth was as if a man before a
judicial tribunal should make a statement and appeal in support of it to
a witness whom no one knows, but who defends his own credibility by
saying that the man who had called him as witness was an honourable
man. The charge was certainly well founded, only the solution of the
problem referred to is absolutely impossible for any man " (Logic,
Introd. trans, by T. K. Abbott).
Kant shows that a universal material criterion of truth is
not only impossible but self -contradictory ; for it would have to
abstract from every difference between the objects, and at the
same time, as a material criterion, serve for their distinction.
A formal, general criterion, on the other hand, immediately
appears as possible.
" For formal truth consists simply in the agreement of the cognition
with itself when we abstract from all objects whatever, and from every
distinction of objects. And hence the universal formal criteria of truth
are nothing but universal logical marks of the agreement of cognitions
with themselves, or what is the same thing, with the general laws of the
understanding and the reason " (Ibid. VII).
Kant sets up three universal and purely formal or logical
criteria of truth : Firstly, the principle of contradiction or of
identity, which determines the inner possibility of knowledge
in problematical judgments. This is a purely negative criterion ;
absence of contradiction is the first condition of the truth
of a statement, but it is not the only condition. Secondly,
the principle of sufficient reason, which serves as a basis of
the (logical) reality of a knowledge, in other words, which
establishes that the knowledge is well founded as matter of
assertorial judgments. Thirdly, the principle of the excluded
middle, which is the foundation of the logical necessity of a
judgment and which establishes that we must necessarily
judge thus, that is to say, that the contrary is false ; this is the
principle of apodictic judgments.
"Truth is an objective property of knowledge; but the judgment by
which a thing is thought as true and which has reference to under-
136 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
standing, and therefore to a special thinking subject is subjective ; it
is assent (Fimvahrhalten). Assent in general is of two kinds certain or
uncertain. Certain assent, or certainty, is joined with consciousness "of
necessity ; the uncertain, on the contrary, or uncertainty, is joined with
the consciousness of contingency, or the possibility of the opposite. The
latter, again, is either subjectively as well as objectively inadequate ; or it
is objectively inadequate, but subjectively adequate. The former must be
called Opinion, the latter Belief. There are, then, three sorts or modes
of assent Opinion, Belief, and Knowledge. Opinion is a problematical,
Belief an assertorial, and Knowledge an apodictic judging. For what I
hold merely as opinion, this in judging I consciously regard as only
problematical ; what I believe, I regard as assertorial, not, however, as
objectively, but as subjectively necessary (valid only for me) ; finally,
what I know, I regard as apodictically certain, that is as universally and
objectively necessary (valid for all). . . . ; Thus, for instance, our
assent to the immortality of the soul would be merely problematical, in
case we only act as if we were immortal ; assertorial, in case we believe
that we are immortal ; and, lastly, apodictic, in case we all knew that
there is another life after this " (Ibid. IX).
Certainty, that is to say, the belief that flows from a
subjectively and objectively valid principle of knowledge, is
either empirical or rational according as it is founded on
experience or on reason. Eational or a priori certainty is either
mathematical or philosophical. The former is intuitive, the
latter discursive. Rational certitude is distinguished from
empirical by the consciousness of necessity. One is apodictic
and the other assertorial. " We are rationally certain of that
which even without experience we should have discerned
a priori. Hence it is possible that our cognitions may
concern objects of experience, and yet their certainty may be
both empirical and rational, namely, when we discern from
a priori principles the truth of a proposition which is
empirically certain {Ibid. IX).
Let us try to arrive at the meaning of these statements.
If we attempt to compare our knowledge with its object we are
condemned to certain failure, for how can the object known be
separated from the thought that knows it ? Thought must
therefore be its own guarantee. We have no universal mate-
rial criteria, but only formal criteria of truth. The principle
of contradiction is the universal principle of all our analytic
judgments, and it is a fully sufficient one. This principle is,
in the second place, a universal criterion of all truth, though a
SCEPTICISM AND CEKTITUDE 137
purely negative one, for it is a condition of all our judgments
that they do not contradict themselves. But a judgment may
be free from every contradiction and yet be false and without
any foundation (Transc. Analyt. II, Sect. 1). Here we come
upon a difficulty which appears to be insoluble. We can
understand that a formal criterion, such as the principle of
contradiction, will assure us of the consistency of the mind with
itself, but how can a formal criterion have any objective
value ? But that which we are really concerned with is to
attain knowledge of the world which is presented to us ; and
yet if we hold that our knowledge must adapt itself to objects,
we cannot, without getting outside thought, find the principles
which would make it legitimate.
There remains, however, another hypothesis : let us sup-
pose that objects adapt themselves to our knowledge. The
laws of thought will then be necessary laws of phenomena, and
experience, by its success, continually proves and verifies the
objective value of these law T s. For what in the last resort
was our aim ? It was to obtain a knowledge that would have
a universal and necessary value, a knowledge governed by laws
which impose themselves not only on our minds, but on
all minds, and on the objects themselves, so far, at least,
as they are thought ; and this is precisely what the principles
of the understanding give us. The criterion is still a formal
one, but although it is not material it is now objective. In the
first place, it is impossible for us to think objects outside the
categories which are the forms of our understanding and the
conditions of our thought. The criterion that results from their
application to phenomena is therefore subjectively sufficient.
In the second place, the principles of the understanding
express not only the laws of my thought but of all thou- lit :
they are the forms of all objective knowledge and are
universally and necessarily valid for every thinking being.
Hence arises the agreement between all minds, which consti-
tutes the unity of science and gives an objective value to our
knowledge; for it is in us the product of thought operating
according to general laws, and not of thought as subjective
and individual.
But this is not all: phenomena are only known inasmuch as
we subject them to the categories of the understanding; and on
138 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
the other hand; these a priori forms are, by themselves, empty,
and they must be filled, as it were, by the phenomena to which
they give unity. This is the condition of consciousness itself,
and consequently of thought. Hence our formal criterion
is also an objective criterion. The categories have objective
value because they serve to bind phenomena together, because,
without them, there can be no objects for thought. Thought
is its own guarantee. It justifies itself by reducing the
multiplicity of phenomena to the unity of the world as it
appears to it. Thought is objective because it only exists
as the thought of a world which without it would crumble
away into dust.
"Human reason . . . begins with principles which, in the course of
experience, it must follow, and which seem sufficiently confirmed by
experience" {Critique of Pure Reason, Preface to 1st Edition.)
"The possibility of experience is then that which gives objective reality
to all our a priori cognitions. . . . Experience has therefore for a founda-
tion, a priori principles of its form, that is to say, general rules of unity
in the synthesis of phenomena, the objective reality of which rules, as
necessary conditions even of the possibility of experience, can always
be shown in experience" {Grit, of Pure Reason, Analytic of Principles,
Sect. I r).
To sum up: Kant wished to provide science with impregnable
principles. He was confronted by two opposing systems :
empiricism, which ends logically in the scepticism of Hume,
and metaphysical dogmatism, which, according to Kant, being
based on a dialectical illusion, and perpetually reversed or modi-
fied in its forms, is unable to furnish a stability it does not itself
possess. In order to escape from scepticism a new method was
needed, namely, the Critical method. Knowledge is objective,
and not, as it was for the empiricists, obtained by an accident
or a lucky chance ; it exists of necessity, and not merely as a
matter of fact. The a priori concepts by themselves are only
a form ; the matter of knowledge is given by experience alone ;
consequently the application of these concepts (cause, substance,
being) to objects supposed to be outside experience only ends
in an empty show, which is Metaphysics. Certitude is only
possible through intuitions, which are either a priori (mathe-
matical) or a posteriori (physical).
Dogmatism is confidence in the power of reason to extend itself
a priori by means of mere concepts without critical examination,
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 13&
a method which can have only apparent success. " In mathematics
and physics scepticism has no place. Only that branch of knowledge
could have given occasion to it, which is neither mathematical nor
empirical the purely philosophical. Absolute scepticism declares that
everything is semblance. It distinguishes semblance from truth, and
must therefore possess some mark by which it makes the distinction.
Consequently it must pre-suppose a knowledge of truth, and thereby it
contradicts itself " {Log. Introd. X).
Thus the principles of science are secure in their foundations.
It would be misleading to say that Kant was a sceptic. In one
sense his whole work is directed against scepticism, and tends
to defend science from the uncertainties of a capricious and
shifting dogmatism. But it is true, on the other hand, that he
denies us the knowledge of the Absolute, and sees in the
effort to make a science of metaphysics only a natural and ever-
recurring illusion of the human mind.
But if objective certainty belongs to the science of phenomena
alone, for truths of another class we still have faith, that
is to say, a certitude which is subjectively sufficient, though
objectively insufficient. The Critique of Pure Reason prepares
the way for faith by establishing its legitimacy. If we have
a scientific knowledge of phenomena only, we know nothing
whatsoever of things in themselves, of noumena. The principle
of causality, for instance, has no meaning outside the world of
experience ; we may therefore accept at the same time
determinism in the world of phenomena and freedom in the
world of noumena.
" I must therefore abolish knowledge to make room for belief. . . .
Above all it [i.e. a system of metaphysics constructed in accordance with the
Critique] will confer an inestimable benefit on morality and religion, by
showing that all the objections urged against them may be silenced for
ever by the Socratic method, that is, by proving the ignorance of the
objector" (Critique of Pure Reason, Pref. to 2nd Edit.).
Knowledge is valid only of the world of phenomena.
Practical reason establishes the law of duty in an a priori
way ; but this law has consequences, implies postulates, which
cannot be verified in the present world and yet must be
admitted, because we have not the right to give up the notion
of duty. Thus, on the one side we have the world of
knowledge, and on the other the world of moral faith, and
140 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
there is no contradiction between them since they do not
belong to the same order.
" Belief ... is a free assent which is only necessary in a practical
a priori point of view ; an assent, therefore, to that which I assume
from moral grounds, and so that I am certain that the opposite can
never be proved. ... I see myself compelled by my end, following
laws of freedom, to suppose that a supreme good in the world is possible,
but I cannot compel any others by reasons (belief is free).
"Rational belief, then, can never reach to theoretical knowledge. It
is only a supposition of the reason in a subjective but absolutely neces-
sary practical point of view. The mental disposition which accords
with moral laws leads to an object of elective will, determinable by
pure reason. The assumption of the feasibility of this object, and
therefore also of the actuality of its cause, is a moral or free belief,
and in the moral point of view of the fulfilment of its end it is a
necessary assent. . . . That man is morally unbelieving who does not
accept that which, though impossible to know is morally necessary to
suppose. A want of moral interest always lies at the root of this kind
of unbelief. The higher the moral character of a man the more firm
and vivid will be his belief in everything which he feels himself com-
pelled from moral interest to accept or suppose in a practically neces-
sary point of view. . . . Belief, therefore, on account of its merely
subjective reasons, does not give a conviction that can be communicated
to others, or command universal assent, like the conviction that comes
from knowledge. Only I myself, can be certain of the validity and
unchangeableness of my practical belief ; and my belief in the truth
of a proposition or the actuality of a thing, is that which in relation
to me takes the place of a cognition without being itself a cognition.
Complete assent from subjective reasons which, for practical purposes,
are as valid as objective, is also conviction, only not logical but
practical (I am certain). And this practical conviction, a moral rational
belief, is often firmer than any knowledge" {Logic, Introd. IX.)
To sum up : objective certitude, according to Kant, is found
only in knowledge that is based on the necessary agreement
of minds with one another and with phenomena. But the
world of noumena, being unknown to us, allows of the
hypotheses which faith supplies. These hypotheses are not
arbitrary, but depend upon subjective necessities ; and are the
consequences of the principle of practical reason, which is
the law of duty. It is no doubt impossible to verify these
hypotheses, to show their realization in facts ; they have
therefore no objective certainty, but we have no more right
to give them up than to give up duty, of which they (free-
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 141
dom, immortality, and God) are the postulates ; and hence
they have a certainty of a peculiar character, moral faith,
which is as much a thing of will as of intellect.
Positivism has no Philosophical Value unless it is founded
on Kant's Criticism : Herbert Spencer's Inconsistencies.
In opposition to scepticism and dogmatism and with the
result of destroying both in so far as they claimed to be
absolute, Kant founded a new method, namely, the Critical
method. Criticism came between science and metaphysics,
presenting itself as the only possible philosophy, which
ensured certitude for science, and reduced metaphysics to
an empty show. Positivism seized upon this distinction \
and in this respect is an offshoot of the Kantian system.
For the Positivists put the theories of Kant into practice,,
saying that science alone is certain, and that it is with
science alone that we should occupy ourselves. We only
know facts and their laws ; metaphysics is an illusion which
criticism has undertaken, once for all, to dispel, or at least
to warn us against, and we cannot again return to it.
Positivism is not only an application of the Kantian idea, but
it could not have existed without the support of the Critique.
It was owing to Kant that Positivism was able to associate
itself with science, while renouncing all Philosophy; before Kant
Positivism might have been possible, but it could not have
justified itself. The human mind may exercise its speculative
activity in three domains : those of metaphysics, criticism, and
positive science ; but metaphysics exists only as an illusion to
be dispelled a task which Criticism performed, while at the
same time it established the principles of science. The task
of Criticism being completed, there remains to us only positive
science, which has an indefinite province wherein it may ex-
tend its conquests in all security. Hence we must be scepti-
cal as regards metaphysics, dogmatical as regards science.
Thus Positivism is an unconscious development of Kant's
conception ; and it is the only form of scepticism that remains
possible. The ancients confounded philosophy with science.
The sceptics, down to Montaigne, questioned the possibility
of all science; but gradually science separated itself from
philosophy, and took a place apart. With Descartes and
142 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Leibnitz it was still, at least in its principles, dependent on
metaphysics, but with Kant the separation became complete ;
metaphysics on the one side, and science on the other, were
respectively synonymous with illusion and certitude. Scepticism
invaded one and respected the other, destroying metaphysics
only to make science more secure ; in theory it became
Criticism, in practice Positivism. It was, therefore, only
because it mistook its own interests that Positivism could
ally itself with Empiricism ; for Empiricism deprives it of
every guarantee, and leaves it without any support. Hume
had said the last word of this doctrine. In Criticism
something absolute remains, namely, the laws of the under-
standing ; in Empiricism everything is accidental, probability
takes the place of truth, and this unwarranted probability
destroys itself the moment it begins to reflect on its own
conditions.
But Positivism has not always been content to profit by
the results of the Kantian criticism without questioning them.
In his First Principles Herbert Spencer endeavours to present
knowledge as a whole, in a systematic form, and at the
same time to justify the relinquishment of all metaphysics.
Metaphysics, he says, has the unknowable for its object, and
only exists as a natural disposition ; science is of the knowable
and the certain.
Herbert Spencer's criticism is both formal and material ; on
the one hand he proves, by the relativity of all knowledge,
the formal impossibility of conceiving the Absolute ; on the
other hand, he examines and exposes the nullity of the meta-
physical conceptions. This double criticism is governed by
one principle : That which is logically inconceivable is false ;
the criterion of truth is the inconceivability of the contrary.
This criterion is applied in the positive part of his work (the
sphere of the knowable). All the principles of science are
reduced to one supreme law, the law of the persistence of
force. This principle is undemonstrable, and must be so,
for it is the basis of all scientific demonstration ; but it
cannot be denied without contradiction : it appears to us
a,s necessary, therefore it is true.
" There must exist some principle which, as being the basis of science,
cannot be established by science. All reasoned-out conclusions whatever
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 143
must rest on some postulate. As before shown we cannot go on merging
derivative truths in those wider and wider truths from which they are
derived, without reaching at last a widest truth which can be merged in
no other, or derived from no other. And whoever contemplates the
relation in which it stands to the truths of science in general, will see
that this truth transcending demonstration is the persistence of force.
" By the persistence of force, we really mean the persistence of some
cause which transcends our knowledge and conception. In asserting it
we assert an unconditioned reality, without beginning or end" (First
Principles, p. 192).
Here Herbert Spencer forgets his own empiricism : no repeti-
tion of experiences, whether of the individual or of the species,
can explain the absolute universality and necessity attributed
by him to this principle. It is a return to the a priorism of
Kant. Spencer establishes determinism a priori !
Another contradiction is implied in Herbert Spencer's
system : if the inconceivability of the contrary is the criterion
of truth, how can science lead to the affirmation of the
existence of an Absolute (i.e. permanent force) when the formal
criterion of knowledge has proved the inconceivability of the
Absolute ? Spencer, it is true, makes a distinction, which lie
has borrowed from Kant (Log. Introd. V), between definite and
indefinite consciousness, that is, between the logical and the
psychological ; but the contradiction remains nevertheless.
Are we to refer this Absolute to our definite or to our
indefinite consciousness ? Herbert Spencer does not tell us,
and this indecision deprives his criterion of all value. For,
can both the inconceivability of the Absolute and the necessity
of conceiving it be logically proved at the same time ? The
Absolute was to be inconceivable, and yet we cannot deny
it without affirming it. In its too anxious endeavour to
be profound, Herbert Spencer's positivism, like his empiricism,
falls into self-contradiction. It is at bottom an unconscious
return to dogmatism.
Conclusion.
One thing is certain : the scepticism of ancient times
is now a matter of past history. In our time there are
no Pyrrhonians ; no one dreams of contesting the possibility
of the mathematical or physical sciences; no one proposes that
man should suspend his judgment concerning all things.
144 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Ancient scepticism has been replaced by two systems, both
of which claim to have marked out the limits of thought,
and to have done so with the object of defining the domain
in which its activity may be exercised with fruitful results.
Empiricism professes to represent science, and to employ in
the study of the phenomena of thought, the methods that have
been so fruitful in the study of natural phenomena. One may
say, it is true, that " scepticism is the natural and ever-
reappearing fruit of empiricism," since all our principles have
in the last resort no better basis than subjective habit. " But
because we have the habit of associating in a certain order
the images of our past sensations, does it follow that our
future sensations must succeed each other in the same
order ? . . . What the empiricists call thought, in opposition
to nature, is only a collection of impressions continued beyond
the moment, and growing ever more faint ; and to look for
the secret of the future in what is only a vain image of the
past, is to undertake to discover in a dream what is to happen
to us when we are awake " (J. Lachelier, Le Fond, cle
V Induction, pp. 29, 30). But the empiricists deny that their
doctrine leads to these extreme consequences : it is their
opponents that accuse them of rendering science impossible,
while they pride themselves in being its only authorised
representatives amongst the philosophers.
Criticism provides a reply to the two great arguments of
the ancient sceptics. These attacked logical certitude in the
name of the necessity of proving everything, and objective
certitude in the name of the relativity of all knowledge. To
the former argument, Kant answers, like Aristotle, that every-
thing is not demonstrable, because everything does not require
demonstration ; but he adds to the value of his reply by his
clearer indication of a priori knowledge. To their second
argument Kant replies by making use of their own thesis, the
relativity of knowledge. No doubt our knowledge is relative,
but it is relative to principles that are universal, and necessary,
and valid for every thinking being. In this sense it has all
the objective validity we can require of it. It does not refer
to the nature of things, but only to phenomena and their
relations. The Absolute eludes us indeed, but if Metaphysics (
is given over to scepticism, Science is not.
SCEPTICISM AND CERTITUDE 145
As we have seen by the example of Herbert Spencer, it is
difficult not to go fiom empiricism to criticism. But can
Criticism itself claim to have said the last word concerning
science ? It would seem not, in view of the fact that out of
Criticism there arose in Germany the boldest dogmatism the
world has yet seen. Kant's great merit is that he transferred
the problem to the nature and the conditions of thought ; but
the reflection on thought to which this point of view invites
us, at the same time furnishes principles which permit us to
go beyond it (see F. Eavaisson, Rapport sur le prix Victor
Cousin).
ii.
CHAPTER II
MATTER
Metaphysics is the science of first principles and of first causes
(Arist. Met. I, 1, Ch. II). It reaches back to principles which
pre-suppose no further principles, and to the cause, or causes,
which have no other cause. Whatever their particular theories
may have been, those philosophers who professed to reduce the
universe to its principles of existence have had to account for
the unity and diversity revealed to us by the observation of
phenomena. The one and the many, activity and passivity,
perfection and limitation, are everywhere found mingled in the
world, which is the object of our thought. Hence arose the
hypothesis of a passive and manifold principle, namely matter,
and of a principle of movement and unity, which is the soul, and
the necessity of explaining the intercommunication and inter-
action of these two principles whose union is apparently contra-
dictory. It is true that some philosophers have denied the
existence of matter, and others the existence of mind, but all
have had nevertheless to explain the apparent dualism which
the observation of things seems to impose on us. We may
therefore consider the different metaphysical systems from the
point of view of the solution they offer to the problems of
matter and of mind, and of the relations between them.
Hylozoism of the First Philosophers. Atomism of Democritus.
We should seek in vain among the first Greek philosophers,
always excepting Democritus and the Atomists, for a clear and
MATTER 147
distinct conception of matter as we understand it. These
philosophers considered all things, as Aristotle puts it, ev i)\w
etSei, " from the point of view of matter," but the conception
they formed of matter was still confused and involved. The
elements, which they took as constitutive principles of the
physical world, were partly material and partly spiritual, and
the mode according to which these elements are combined was
with most of them, whatever Eitter may say to the contrary
(see his History of Greek Philosophy), neither strictly dynamic
nor expressly mechanical.
Take for instance Thales, the first Ionic Philosopher.
According to him the substance of things was water, or in a
general way a humid element (Arist. Metaph. I, iii, 983 b, 20),
but this element was not purely material, it had a soul, ^X'/
{De Animai, I, v, 411 a, 7). Nor was it, properly speaking,
spiritual, for this soul is, as it were, an undefined attractive and
motor force, something like a magnet {Ibid. I, ii, 405 a, 19).
Thus, Thales' conception was rather a confused kind of hylozoism;
and one may say the same of the " Infinite " of Anaximander, of
the " air " of Anaximenes. Anaximenes aera deum statuit . . .
csseque immensum, et infinitum, et semper in motu (Cic. De Nat.
Beorum I, 10).
The conception of Heraclitus shows more originality. Not
that he rises above the purely physical point of view of his
predecessors ; it is a grave historical error to represent him
as the precursor of Hegel, as Lassalle does (Die Phdosophie
Heracleitos des DunJclen, 2nd vol.). The universal principle of
being is an ever-living fire, which is ignited and extinguished
in accordance with a fixed rhythm : irvp aeiQaov, airTOfxevov
/j-erpw kcu aTroarfievvufxevov /ueTpw {Fray. 27). Fire becomes
all things, and all things turn into fire {Frag. 49). Fire is
not indeed a determinate sensible existence, but the common
substratum , the substance of all sensible things.
It would seem at first sight that with Pythagoreanism the
principle of the explanation of things becomes decidedly
spiritual, but the Pythagorean Number must be regarded as an
element {cttol-^cIov, Arist. Metaph. I, v, 985 b, 28), as the substance
or material out of which things are made. Numbers arc divided
into odd numbers (irepia-aa), even numbers (apria), and mid-
even numbers {apTioiripio-o-a). The odd is identified with the
148 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
limited, the even with the unlimited. The formula, " every-
thing is Number," is then equivalent to the following : Every-
thing is formed either of things limiting or of things unlimited,
or of things that are both limiting and unlimited, avayica to.
eovTa el/jiev ivavTa \] irepaivovTa 5/ cnreipa, t] irepaivovTa tc /ecu
a-Treipa (Frag, of Philos. 3). These opposite elements are
united in Number. Number is thus a principle of unity and
harmony. The only difference between the Pythagoreans and
the Ionic philosophers is that the former seek the essence of
matter, not in a single more or less subtle or dense material
principle, but in Number, the most abstract principle, which
they conceived as being the synthesis, the harmony, of the two
opposite elements, the limited and the unlimited.
Parmenides attacks the vulgar conception of matter as
multiplicity and motion. Being alone exists : Being that is
one, immovable, full, always like unto itself (V, 60). Par-
menides calls this Being a sphere, not as a mere poetical
comparison, but as being really identical with a sphere (V,
103, 104). Matter and thought are not distinguished by him,
both are contained in the conception of Being in general
(V, 39, 40). The Eleatic philosophy marks, however, an im-
portant stage in the history of the theories of matter, for in it
phenomena, the ephemeral modes, are for the first time dis-
tinguished from the substantial and permanent element. We
shall see how, later on, philosophers returned to the Eleatic
principles, and drew from them new consequences.
Empedocles holds with Parmenides that birth and destruc-
tion are mere appearances (V, 113 sq.). What appears to us
to be a birth or becoming ((pv<ris), is merely a mixture of
elements (fu^i?). What we regard as annihilation (reXeuWj)
is merely a separation of elements (SidWa^is) (V, 98 sq.) : the
primordial elements, the pi^w/uara of things are four : water,
air, earth, and fire. How does the mixture take place ? The
particles of a body detach themselves from the group to which
they belong, to penetrate into the pores (-KopoC) of another
body. A new substance is not formed, there is only a displace-
ment or re-arrangement of the elementary particles. As for
the action at a distance of one body upon another, it is
explained by what Empedocles calls emanations (cnroppoai) :
some infinitely small, invisible particles are detached from one
MATTER 149
body and penetrate into the pores of another (V, 337). This
action takes place more easily according as there is a greater
similarity between the two bodies : for there is an affinity, a
friendship between similar things (Arist. Be Gen. et Corr. I, 8).
Anaxagoras, like Empedocles, regards birth and death as a
union and separation (Fr. 17). But the primary substances
{mrepfxaTa) are, according to him, infinite in number. These
o-wkpfxaTa are not indeterminate, like the atoms of Democritus,
they are at once perfectly definite and endlessly various in
qualities (Fr. 3). A bone, for instance, is composed of smaller
bones which have come together and combined (Lucretius, I,
834-39). Aristotle calls those elements " like " (to. o/xoiofxeprj),
whose combination forms the different bodies. (Be Gen. et
Corr. I, i, 314 a, 18.)
The clearest expression of the materialistic theory to be found
in philosophy, is the one given by the Atomists Leucippus and
Democritus. They grant to the Eleatics that motion and be-
coming are impossible without Non- being, but instead of infer-
ring from this proposition the impossibility of motion and of
becoming, they deduce from it the reality of Non-being. Non-
being exists by the same right as Being. Being, which the
Atomists, like the Eleatics, identify with the plenum, to TrXrjpes,
is composed of atoms, that is to say, of indivisible particles,
which are eternal, qualitatively indeterminate, in number
infinite, and separated from one another by Non-being or the
Void, to Kevov. For the cause of the motion of matter Empe-
docles had fallen back upon the mythical forces, love and hate,
while Anaxagoras found this cause in the action of intelligence.
But according to Democritus the principle of motion is not
to be found in any force external to the atoms (Arist. Be Caelo,
III, 2), but in a preceding motion, and so on to infinity. This
motion does not, however, occur at random, but in obedience to
necessary and fixed laws : ovSeu xpijiua fiarijv yiyverai, a\\a
iravTa e/c Xoyov re kui wit avayK>]$ (Frag. 41).
Thus everything is reduced to atoms and motion : the
manner of the grouping and combination of the atoms, the
primary qualities, i.e. extension and weight, constitute the
essence of tilings. As for the secondary qualities (heat, cold,
taste, smell), they come not from the object itself, but from the
impression it produces on human sensation.
150 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Pre-Socratic philosophy conies to a close in the Atomistic
theory. With Democritus, Greek thought arrived at last at a
clear and distinct conception of matter, and formulated with
precision the great principles which are becoming every day
more important in modern physical science : the indestructi-
bility of matter, and the conservation of force ; nothing comes
from nothing, nothing returns to nothing (Lucretius) ; the
reduction of all phenomena to the single fact of motion, and
the government of the phenomenal world by mechanical laws.
It was a great merit in Democritus that he laid down so
clearly the principles of what we may call the Philosophy of
Appearance.
Plato : Obscurity of his Theory of Matter.
With Socrates there commenced a reaction against the
Materialism of the Physicists.
"Without having dealt himself with physical science, Socrates had yet
already marked out for it the path in which it was afterwards to travel
with such steady persistence. . . . The world is explained from man, not
man from the universal laws of nature. In the order of natural events, then,
there is presupposed throughout that antithesis of thoughts and acts, of
plan and material execution, which we find in our own consciousness. . . .
We see here how much of a Socratic Aristotle still was at bottom, with
his antithesis of form and matter, and the government of efficient causes
by the final purpose " (Lange, History of Materialism, trans, by E. C.
Thomas, Voi. I, p. 64).
Plato's theory of matter has given rise to much discussion.
What is matter according to him ? Is there even, strictly
speaking, such a thing as matter, a kind of reality that is
different in nature from and irreducible to Ideas, and whose
relation to Ideas yet constituted the world ?
In the Timaeus Plato seems to teach the existence of an
eternal matter (the word v\rj is not used by him in this sense),
that is to say, of an indeterminate something, which is the
source of becoming (eKeivo ev w yiyverai) ; a kind of receptacle
of generation (7racr^? yevecrecix; v7roSo)(i]), which is as it were its
nurse (olov TiOr'/v}]) ; difficult of explanation and dimly seen
(^a\e7rov Koi a/uvSpov eto?) (Tim. 49 a); an element which
underlies all things (eK/uayeiov yap (pvcrei iravTi /cerrat), a soft
substance, the natural recipient of all impressions : the
MATTER 151
principle out of which all things are formed, and which has
itself no form and no determinate qualities, which is not
accessible, like the Idea, to thought, nor like the sensible, to
sensation (Tim. 52) ; which we can represent to ourselves
only through a mist, and as it were in a dream (irpog o t] koi
oveipoTroXovfxev (SXeirovTes). Again Plato calls this matter " the
place " (x^/ a > T07ro?). Such is the obscure principle, the
primitive matter which, according to the Timaeus, exists beside
the Idea as a different and primitive reality, and which by
concurrence with the Idea forms the world.
Does this dualism of the Timaeus represent Plato's final
conception of matter ? Or, shall we not rather look for his
last word on the subject, in the Parmenicles and the Sophist, in
which he endeavours to overcome this dualism ? If matter is
eternal, if its substance persists through every change, how
can it be said that being only belongs to the Idea ? Matter,
even in the Timaeus, is known neither by thought nor by
sensation, and for Plato, the intelligible is the measure of the
real, and what is an object neither for thought nor for sensa-
tion does not exist. If, moreover, the sensible participates
both in Being and Non-being, and if all being comes to it from
the Ideas, must there not be a negative principle, a Non-being,
which distino-uishes it from the Ideas ? Are we then to attri-
o
bute Subjective Idealism to Plato, to see in his matter nothing
more than a confused representation of the world of ideas in
the individual mind ? Not to mention other arguments which
might be urged against this solution, it involves a historical
misconstruction, for it ascribes to Plato theories that have as
a matter of fact appeared only in modern times.
The following is the solution which Zeller suggests :
" If, then, the Universal, the basis of sensible existence, is neither a
material substratum nor a mere phantasy of the subjective notion, what
is it? Plato tells us himself, and Aristotle agrees with him. The
groundwork of all material existence is the Unlimited (aireLpov),
Unlimitedness, conceived not as predicate, but as subject ; it is the
Great-and-Small, not, however, to be described as corporeal substance :
it is the Non-existent, i.e. Non-being ; it is empty space as the condition
of separation and division. In the place of an external matter we
must therefore suppose the mere form of materiality, the form of existence
in space and of motion ; and when the Timaeus speaks of a matter rest-
lessly moved, before the creation of the world, this only expresses the
152 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
thought that separation and becoming are the essential forms of all
sensible existence. These forms Plato would have us regard as some-
thing objective, present in the sensible phenomenon itself, not merely
in our notion. On the other hand, matter can have no reality or sub-
stantiality of its own, for all reality is in Ideas. It remains, therefore,
to explain matter as the negation of the reality supposed in Ideas ; as
the Non-being of the Ideas, into which the latter cannot enter without
dissolving its Unity in multiplicity, its Permanence in the flux of
becoming, its definiteness in the unlimited possibility of augmentation
and diminution, its self-identity in an eternal contradiction, its absolute
Being in a combination of Being and Non-being" (Zeller, trans, by
Alleyne and Goodwin, pp. 311, 312).
This solution certainly involves many difficulties, for it
appears to give being to Non-being, and to make that which
cannot be thought thinkable ; but these difficulties are those of
Platonism itself.
However this may be, the radical difference between Plato's
theory and the pre-Socratic materialism is easily seen. Deino-
critus, depriving reality of all form, of all qualitative deter-
mination, reduces it to matter. Plato occupies himself with
the form, the quality, which he separates from matter, realizing
and hypostatizing it in the Idea. Matter, quantity, and space,
which for Democritus were the whole of reality, are for Plato
only the Non-being, an indeterminate, obscure substratum
underlying sensible existence.
Aristotle : Matter an Indeterminate Potentiality, has no
existence without Form.
Aristotle closely unites the matter and the form which
had been separated by Plato, and he attributes reality to
the form in a higher transcendental world. While Plato
regards the relation of form to matter as that of reality
to Non-being, to Aristotle they are two correlative terms, the
union of which constitutes Being. There is therefore in the
real and concrete world no absolute matter, that is, no matter
that has not some form or quality.
"'H/ms Se (f)a[Xv /xev etvat Tiva v\r)V twv o-w/acxtcov tu>v alo-drjTwv,
aAAa ravTrjv ov ^cupto-T>yv, aAA' aei fier' evavTiwo-ews e ?^s ytyj/erai to,
KaXov/xeva crrot^eta : We say, indeed, that there is a matter in bodies
which are the objects of sensations ; but this matter never exists by
itself or without one of the contrary forms (heat, cold, heaviness, light-
MATTEE 153
ness), out of which arise what are called the elements " (De Gen. et Corrupt.
II, 1). Matter does not exist of itself or independently of form : to 8' vXikov
ovBeTTOTt xaff avru XeKreov (Met. 1035). In itself, it is unknowable,
ayvwcTTOs KaO' avrrjv (1036 a, 8), has neither quality nor quantity nor any
other of those things whereby entity is defined : Aeycu S' vXqv r/ ko.6
avT^v fJii]re tl, fir^Te ttoctov, /a^tc aAAo /j.i]dev Xeyerai ois wpicrrai to ov
(Met. 1029 a, 20).
Thus it is only by mental abstraction that matter can be
separated from form. But what is matter, considered thus in
itself and in the abstract ? Every being or individual object,
before it exists, might have been either what it is or its
opposite ; before being this rather than that, it might have been
indifferently either this or that. And it is precisely from this
indeterminate potentiality that those contraries arise which con-
stitute matter. <tti $' rj /nev vXt] SvvafAi?, to o eiSos evTeXe-^eia
(De An. II, 412a, 6). The subject of all change, the condition of all
becoming {Phys. I, 190 a, 31 sq.), namely, matter, is non-created
(ayevvriTo?) ; and as all things that perish dissolve into it
(et? touto cKpL^erai ecr^arov), it is imperishable (acpdapros)
(Phys. I, 192 a, 28). We must distinguish this primary matter
(7rpcoTT] i)\r]), which, being without quality and existing before
the elements themselves and their differences, escapes our
grasp, from the last or final matter, i>A>/ ea-^dri) ISios oiKeia
cKao-Tov, which is ready to receive such and such a form, just
as the marble or the bronze is matter in relation to the
statue. The transition from potentiality to actuality or from
matter to form, takes place in the reality through the medium
of motion.
" Motion," says M. Eavaisson, " is Non-being in Being, Non-being
passing into actuality. It is no longer, as in Plato, the logical relation of
the mutual exclusion of two terms, but an intermediate reality which
connects them together as two moments of one existence, and in which
one becomes the other. Motion is neither Being nor Non-being, neither
actuality nor potentiality ; rather it is both at once. It is the indivisible
point of coincidence of these opposite terms, whose intimate relation
to one another can be discovered by careful observation " (Eavaisson,
Me'taph. d'Aristote, I, 395).
Motion is incomplete actuality, 7rcru Kivrjcri? areA?/?. It
lias not its end in itself but tends towards its end, which is its
perfection. Perfection, or, in other words, true Being, is, then,
not in matter nor in the transition from matter to form, but in
154 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
the form itself, which is the end of the motion. Matter is an
imperfection, or perhaps rather a latent, possible perfection
which has not yet been actualized through motion.
Aristotle's doctrine was thus different both from the
doctrines of Plato and of the Ionic physicists, but while
attacking these, he at the same time endeavours to reconcile
them. Matter is not with him merely the non-existent. Nor
is it identified with privation or with space, but is already a
reality, and so far the Ionic philosophers were right. But,
on the other hand, matter is an inferior, potential reality,
which is not self-sufficient and cannot be isolated from form,
and in this respect Plato's theory is correct.
Materialism of the Epicureans and Stoics.
After Aristotle Materialism under different forms appeared
once more to triumph.
" Even by the school of Aristotle, the pure actuality of absolute thought,
which was the characteristic idea of his Metaphysics, was gradually
abandoned. The Epicureans did away with all idea of actuality and
potentiality and reduced everything to an inert matter. The Stoics
brought down thought once more to matter, activity to potentiality, and
Metaphysics to a new Physics" (Ravaisson, Metaph. d'Arist. Vol. II, p. 26).
With the exception of a few details, Epicurus borrowed
his atomistic explanation of the world from Democritus. Only
bodies exist : to irav ea-ri crw/ua (D.L. x, 39). Bodies are
formed of elementary particles, of atoms which are indivisible
(Ibid. 56), and immutable (Ibid. 54), and whose essential pro-
perties are size, figure, weight. The atoms are infinite in
number, and separated from one another by the void, which
alone makes motion possible (Ibid. 42, 44). They are in-
dependent of one another (cnraOei?, Pint. Adv. Colot. 8 ;
aTpe7rrovg kcu acrv/inraOeis, Ibid. 10), and can have no relations
except those resulting from the accidents of impact and motion.
They have a natural weight, in virtue of which they fall
eternally in the same direction and with the same velocity
(D.L. x, 43).
But, and it is here that Epicurus departs from the doctrine
of Democritus, it is necessary, in order to explain the contact
of the atoms, to attribute to them the power of swerving from
the straight line, and that without cause, in a certain undeter-
MATTER 155
mined point in space and time (Lucretius, II, 221). This
deviation, this swerving of the atoms, is so slight that our
senses are unable to perceive it, but it is necessary and enough
to explain the formation of the worlds (Ibid. 243). The
universe thus constituted by the fortuitous concourse of atoms
is governed by inflexible necessary laws. Everything can be
explained mechanically by the concourse of atoms and without
the intervention of intelligence or design.
For the Stoics as well as for the Epicureans it was an
axiom that all that is real is corporeal : ovtu yap juova tu
crw/j-aTa koXovctlv (Plut. Adv. Stoic. 30). The body is the
extended, which has three dimensions : awnia S' ecrri to rpi-^co^
Siao-raTov (D.L. vii, 135). Not only are the human soul and
God, or the Providence which pervades the universe of reason
and of harmony, bodies, but so are also all those qualities which
distinguish things from one another. Quality (-ttoiott]?) is
explained by the action of a breath, or spiritual fire, which
from the centre of each thing spreads all through it, and,
returning again from the periphery to the centre, embraces,
contains it (crwe-^ei), and constitutes the unity and sympathy
of its elements : r\ ttoiot>]<? ecrn 7rvev/u.a avTTTpe(pov ecp' eavTO.
And this theory applies not only to physical properties, but
to moral qualities. Virtues and vices are bodies, that is to
say, they are the result of the activity of the soul, and this
activity is the result of the tension of the spiritual fire, which
is the soul itself.
"Placet nostris, quod bonum est esse corpus, quia quod bonum est facit:
quicquid facit corpus est. . . . Sapientiam bonum esse dicunt: sequitw^ut
necesse sit illam corporalem quoque dicere" (Sen. Ep. 117, 2).
Strangely enough, this Materialism was not with the Stoics
the basis of a mechanical explanation of life. They explained
things dynamically, and few philosophers have made greater
use of the theory of final causes. The body, according to them,
possesses more than the mathematical properties attributed to
it by the Epicureans. There are in each thing two closely
related principles: a passive principle which is matter, and an
active one which is force or cause.
" Dicunt ut sets, Stoici nostri, duo esse in rerum natura, ex quibus omnia
fin/'/, causam et materiam. Materia jacet iners, res ad omnia parata,
156 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
cessatura si nemo moveat. Causa autem, id est ratio, materiam format
et quocumque vult versat, ex ilia varia opera producit. Esse debet
ergo unde aliquid fiat, deinde a quo fiat. Hoc causa est, Mud materia."
(Sen. Ep. 65, 2).
Thus matter and force are the two inseparable elements
which constitute each being. The passive or material element
is the substance (ova-la) of the body, is that by which it exists
(D.L. VII, 150). Force or the active element 'is its quality, its
manner of being (7roio'r>/9). Force makes with matter but one
and the same being. It moves in and with matter, and is
therefore, as it were, a germ, or seed which contains from the
beginning all its determinations and develops them succes-
sively, according to the laws of reason : \6yo? cnrepp-ariKog
(Ibid. 136). This force with which matter is informed, and
which contains in itself the cause of all the changes in the
body, is fire not the coarse fire revealed to us by our senses,
which, far from producing anything, destroys everything, but an
ethereal fire which engenders all things with consummate art
and knowledge : 7rvp re^viKov 6Sw ^aSi^ov ei$ yeveaiv (Ibid.
156). The Stoics' world is not, like that of Epicurus, com-
posed of independent parts having no interaction ; everything
in it, on the contrary, is bound together. One force and one
reason pervades it ; it is in fact a continuous and sympathetic
whole : irav a-vve^eg, a-v/inraOes. Thus, although everything is
body, matter is distinguished from force. Not that the ultimate
result of the system is a dualism : the primitive and divine
fire is the principle of all that is. All the other elements are
only metamorphoses of this fire, and matter is a relaxation
and a degradation of it. And if everything comes from the
divine fire, everything must return to it ; our life is only a
periodical episode in the divine life.
Nco-Platonism : Reaction against Materialism.
With Neo-Pythagoreanism and Neo-Platonism a new re-
action against Materialism began. A doctrine that professed
to explain everything by that which is visible and tangible
could not be otherwise than repulsive to minds trained in the
school of Plato, and already tinged with the spirit of oriental
religious feeling. In the Trinity of Plotinus, the first hypo-
stasis, the One, which is absolutely simple, cannot contain
MATTER 157
anything analogous to matter, but in intelligence there is
already plurality.
"If there are many forms, it is necessary (avay/07) that there shall be
something common in them ; and also that there should be something-
peculiar to each by which one is distinguished from another. This
something peculiar (t'Stov), therefore, this separating difference, is the
appropriate form (/xop^-q). But if there is form, there is also that which
is formed (et 8e pLopcfaij, eort kcu to fxop(f>ov/ievov), about which difference
subsists (Trepl o ?/ Suufropd). Hence there is matter (in intelligibles)
which receives the form, and is always the subject of it (eo-riv apa /cat
v\t] rj Tr]v p,op<f)r]v Se^o/xev?/ kclI del to VTTOKeifievov)" (Plotinus, Enneads,
II, iv, 4).
Furthermore, our sensible world is an image of the intelli-
gible world, and as it is composed of matter and of form,
there must also be matter in the world above : kclkci Set
v\r]i> elvai (Ibid.). But the matter that is in the vov$ must not
be conceived as resembling what we call matter here below.
Intelligible matter is entirely informed and animated with the
higher principle, while sensible matter shuts out form. The
first is Being, the second is Non-being ; the first is eternal like
the Idea, the second is subject to a perpetual becoming.
" Even when the matter of bodies," says Plotinus, " becomes a definite
thing, it is neither living nor thinking : it is dead in spite of its borrowed
beauty. On the other hand, intelligible matter is truly real, it is living
and thinking" (Enn. II, iv, 5).
It would seem, then, that these two kinds of matter re-
semble each other in name only, but there is a reason for this
common name. With the second hypostasis already com-
mences that procession which continues to go further away
from unity and finds its last limit in matter.
What is concentrated in the intelligible world is, in the
sensible world, divided and dispersed ; unity becomes plurality;
harmony, struggle and opposition ; and eternity, time and
succession. The cause of this lower existence is matter,
and Plotinus returns to Plato's theory of it.
Matter is the universal substratum which persists under the mutation
of the elements into each other (vttoSox'i], viroKeifASVOV, Enn. II, iv, 6).
This matter is void of form, absolutely indefinite, void of all quality (a7roios,
Ibid. 8). In itself it does not even possess magnitude, which belongs to
it only in so far as the concept magnitude is realized in it (Ibid.). Matter
is, as in the Timaeus, space, the natural recipient of all things. It must not
158 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
be said of matter that it is body (do-co/Aa-ros), for body is posterior to it
(vo-repov), and presupposes the synthesis {itvvOztov) of a matter and a form
{Enn. Ill, vi, 7). Matter has no reality, but is merely the possibility of
being ; in itself it is the privation of all things, the cause to other things
of their apparent substance (e/?/Aia -rrdvTwv ovcra, aAAa yiyveTai fxev atria
aAAois tov <cuvcr#ai, Enn. Ill, vi, 15).
Matter, in short, is Non-being (dAry^ivws p) 6V), that which is void
of all reality, from which the good is absent ; and it is in this sense that
Plotinus calls matter " evil " (irpCnov kgikoV, Enn. I, viii, 3 ; cf. Zeller,
Vol. V, 2nd ed., p. 486).
It must be admitted that this definition gives us no positive
idea of matter, and that it is difficult to conceive this nothing
which is yet something.
Revival of Science. The Problem of Matter restated. The
Atomism of Gasscndi.
In the Middle Ages philosophers were content to follow Plato
and Aristotle, especially the latter in his distinction between
matter and form.' We must, however, notice one exception : in
Paris, in 1348, Nicolaus of Autricuria was condemned for hav-
ing said that there was " nothing in the phenomena of nature
beyond the movement of atoms which combines or separates
them " (Prantl, Gesch. der Log. IV, p. 2). It was not till the
16th century that the revival of scientific investigation, and
particularly the great discoveries of Copernicus and Galileo, drew
attention once more to cosmological problems, and consequently
to the question of the essence of matter. The consciousness of
an universal life inspired at first a poetical and somewhat
vague kind of Pantheism.
"The infinity of forms under which matter appears, taught Bruno,
it does not receive from another and something external, but produces
them from itself and engenders them from its bosom. Matter is not that
prope nihil which some philosophers have Avished to make it, and as to
which they have so much contradicted each other ; not that naked, mere
empty capacity, without efficiency, completeness, and fact. Even though
it has no form of its own it is not at least deprived of it, as ice is of heat,
or as the depths are of light, but it is like the travailing mother as she
expels her offspring from her womb . . . therefore matter is not without
forms nay, it contains them all ; and since it unfolds what it carries con-
cealed within itself, it is in truth all nature and the mother of all living
things " (Lange, Hist, of Materialism, Vol. I, p. 232 of trans.).
Beside this Pantheism there appeared once more a doctrine
MATTER 159
of Atomism. Among all the ancient philosophers Bacon gives
the highest place to Democritns.
" And therefore the natural philosophy of Democritus, and some others
who did not suppose a mind or reason in the frame of things, but attri-
buted the form thereof able to maintain itself to infinite essays or proofs
of nature which they term fortune, seemeth to me ... in particularities of
physical causes more real and better inquired than that of Aristotle and
Plato" (Advancement of Learning, Bk. II, vii). Bacon does not however
wish to be " led to the doctrine of atoms, which implies the hypothesis of
a vacuum, and that of the unchangeablenessof matter (both false assump-
tions)." "We shall," he says, " be led to real particles such as really exist "
(Nov. Organ. Bk. II).
It was by a French philosopher, Gassendi, that the atomistic
conception of the universe was revived in modern times. As
Lange remarks, " Among all the systems of antiquity he
judiciously chose the one that is most in harmony with modern
empirical tendencies." The rehabilitation of Epicurus " deserves
to be ranked amongst the most original attempts of that time."
In his work the Exercitationes paradoxicae contra Aristotelem
(1624-1645), five books of which he burnt under advice of
his friends, is a defence of the system of Epicurus. From a
summary of the lost books we see that Gassendi adopted the
system of Copernicus, and the theory of the world as expounded
by Lucretius. In 1643 he commenced his polemic against
Descartes with the publication of his Disquisitiones anti-
cartesianae. Most of his writings on Epicurus as well as the
exposition of his own doctrines date from 1646 to 1653. For
him the universe was a coordinate whole, the constitutive
elements of which were atoms. These in their turn were
determinations of a permanent, indestructible principle, which
is matter. No body comes from nothing. The atoms are
identical in substance, but differ in form. The appearance and
disappearance of things is only the reunion and separation of
atoms. Gassendi, unlike the French materialists of the 18th
century, does not deduce atheism from his principles. God.
with him is the Creator of matter.
Descartes: the Essence of Matter is Extension; Geometrical
Mechanism.
"It is very evident that all that is true is something,
truth being identical with existence, and I have already fully
160 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
demonstrated that whatever is clearly and distinctly known is
true " (5th Meditation). Descartes applies this method to
matter in order to determine its essence. His object is to
make of matter, such as it exists in our thought, an analysis
which shall free it from all its obscurities, from all its sensible
qualities, and to bring out whatever in it is clear and distinct
(Ibid.).
Any material object, a piece of wax for instance, contains
a confused multitude of properties which are variable and un-
stable, and awaken in the thinking subject so many more or
less confused conceptions. We say of this piece of wax that
it has such a colour, such a form and taste, but do these
expressions reveal the essence of matter ? In no wise. Hold
the piece of wax near the fire, and colour, odour, and taste will
all melt away, and give place to an extended, soft, and flexible
mass, which, however, we still call wax (2nd Med.) ; con-
sequently all the secondary qualities which the vulgar regard
as so many properties of matter are things that depend on
external circumstances and on the sensibility of the subject,
and do not really constitute the material object. All that
we can expect of our senses is that they may indicate that
which in the object will be useful or injurious to us.
" It will be sufficient to remark that the perceptions of the senses are
merely to be referred to this intimate union of the human body and
mind, and that they usually make us aware of what in external objects
may be useful or adverse to this union, but do not present to us these
objects as they are in themselves. . . . For after this observation we
will without difficulty lay aside the prejudices of the senses and will have
recourse to our understanding alone on this question by reflecting
carefully on the ideas implanted in it by Nature " (Prin. of Phil. II, 3 ;
cf. Med. VI).
Thus none of the secondary qualities are realities. There
is nothing in them for the understanding to take hold of, and
the real is that alone which is clearly perceived by the mind.
The only essential and fundamental property which persists
throughout all modifications, and of which the mind can have
a clear and distinct knowledge, is extension, or the dimensions
of length, breadth, and depth.
" I distinctly imagine that quantity which philosophers commonly call
continuous, or the extension in length, breadth, and depth that is in this
MATTEE 161
quantity, or rather in the object to which it is attributed. Further, I
can enumerate in it many divers parts, and attribute to each of these
all sorts of sizes, figures, situations, and local motions ; and in time I can
assign to each of these motions all degrees of duration. And I not only
know these things when I thus consider them in general ; but besides, by
a little attention, I discover innumerable particulars respecting figures,
numbers, motion, and the like, which are so evidently true, and so
accordant with my nature, that when I discover them, I do not so much
appear to learn anything new, as to call to remembrance what I before
knew " (5th Meditation).
Thus among all the qualities attributed by the vulgar to
matter, only one, which is independent of sensation and clearly
perceived by the mind, is essential to it and possesses objective
reality, and this quality is extension.
" The nature of matter or body, considered in general, does not consist
in its being hard, or ponderous, or coloured, or in that which affects our
senses in any other way, but simply in its being a substance extended in
length, breadth, and depth " (Brine, of Phil. II, 4).
Bodies, whose essence is extension, are not different from
the space in which they are contained.
"After this examination, we will find that nothing remains in the
idea of body, except that it is something extended in length, breadth,
and depth, and that this something is comprised in our idea of space, not
only of that which is full of body, but even of what is called void
space" (Ibid. 11).
Space and body being identical, it follows that there is
no such thing as a vacuum.
"With regard to a vacuum, in the philosophical sense of the term, that
is, space in which there is no substance, it is evident that such does not
exist, seeing the extension of space or internal place is not different from
that of the body " (Ibid, II, 16).
Nor are there any atoms, that is to say, indivisible particles
of matter. Every extended tiling, however small we can
imagine it, may be divided into two or more smaller parts,
ad infinitum (Ibid. II, 20). The world, or the extended matter
el' which the universe is made up, is also infinite in magni-
tude, and mi limit can lie assigned to it in space (Ibid. II. 21).
Space being full, motion is "the transporting of one part of
matter or of one body from the vicinity of those bodies thai
are in immediate contact with it, or which we regard as at
II. L
162 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
rest, to the vicinity of other bodies" {Ibid. II, 25). When
one part of matter is moved, another immediately takes its
place ; in other words, every motion is curvilinear or a vortex.
Thus we see that by a subjective method very different
from that of Democritus, Descartes, nevertheless, in the
same way reduces the manifold properties of matter to unity,
that is, to extension. In Descartes' theory, as in that of
Democritus, we have a reduction of quality to quantity ; but
in one it is a discrete quantity, i.e. number (the atoms were
unities), and in the other a continuous quantity, namely,
extension. In the place of the arithmetical mechanism of
Democritus, Descartes proposes a geometrical mechanism.
Spinoza : Extension an Attribute of God ; Bodies are Modes
of this Attribute.
Spinoza, like Descartes, reduces all the properties of matter
to extension ; but, for him, extension is not a substance, but an
attribute of the single substance, God, and the only one of all
the infinite attributes of God, besides thought, that is accessible
to human intelligence. " Extension is an attribute of God ; in
other words, God is an extended thing " {Eth. II, 2). The
divine extension is infinite ; only the different bodies which
are its modes are finite ; God, though an extended thing {res
extensa) is indivisible.
"Substance absolutely infinite is indivisible (The Ethics, Part I, Prop.
XIII). Proof : If it could be divided, the parts into which it was divided
would either retain the nature of absolutely infinite substance, or they
would not. If the former we should have several substances of the same
nature, which (by Prop. V) is absurd. If the latter, then (by Prop. VII)
substance absolutely infinite would cease to exist, which (by Prop. XI)
is also absurd."
God is thus at once extended and indivisible. This proposi-
tion may appear contradictory to those who, being incapable of
rising above the prejudices of imagination, represent the divine
extension to themselves after the model of such and such a
particular body. But God, though extended, is incorporeal.
" Some assert that God, like a man, consists of body and mind, and is
susceptible of passions .... all who have in any way reflected on the
divine nature, deny that God has a body. Of this they find excellent
proof in the fact that we understand by a body a definite quantity, so
MATTER 163
long, so broad, so deep, bounded by a certain shape ; and it is the height
of absurdity to predicate such a thing of God, a being absolutely infinite"
{Eth., Part I, Prop. XV note).
Because God cannot be conceived as a body, many think
that extension cannot belong to God, that it is separated from
the divine substance, and created by God Himself ; but they
forget that extension, as it is in God, is not that divisible
and even actually divided extension which is presented to us
by our imagination. The manifold parts, or the different bodies
of which this extension is composed, have only a phenomenal
existence, and are merelv the finite modes of the infinite and
divine extension ; but the latter in itself has no parts.
" It is mere foolishness, or even insanity, to say that extended substance
is made up of parts or bodies really distinct from one another. It is as
though we should attempt, by the aggregation and addition of many
circles, to make up a square, or a triangle, or something of totally different
essence. Wherefore the whole heap of arguments by which philosophers
commonly endeavour to show that extended substance is finite falls to the
ground by its own weight. For all such persons suppose that corporeal
substance is made up of parts. In the same way, others, who have per-
suaded themselves that a line is made up of points, have been able to
discover many arguments to show that a line is not infinitely divisible "
{Letter to Lewis Meyer).
Bodies are the modes by which the divine extension
expresses and develops itself. " By body I mean a mode
which expresses in a certain determinate manner the essence
of God in so far as He is considered as an extended thing"
{Eth. II, Def. 1).
All bodies have something in common, all imply the con-
cept of one and the same attribute, extension {Eth. II,
Lemma 2). It is, therefore, not in the substance, but in the
modes that the basis and origin of the difference between
bodies is to be sought. Bodies may be divided, in the first
place, into two principal kinds, into simple and compound
bodies. Simple bodies are distinguished from one another
only by motion and rest, or by the slowness and rapidity of
their motion {Ibid. Lemma 3, ax. 2). Simple bodies are not,
however, atoms. Spinoza does not assert, any more than did
Descartes, the existence of atoms and of the void. The com-
pound bodies he defines in the following way :
164 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
" When any given bodies of the same or different magnitude are com-
pelled by other bodies to remain in contact, or if they be moved at the
same or different rates of speed, so that their mutual movement should
preserve among themselves a certain fixed relation, we say that such
bodies are in union, and that together they compose one body or
individual, which is distinguished from other bodies by this fact of
union " {Ibid. XIII, Def.).
The laws obeyed by the different bodies are all reducible to
mechanical laws. The origin of the motion of a body is to be
found in a previous motion, and so on to infinity. " A body in
motion or at rest must be determined to motion or rest by
another body, which other body has been determined to motion
or rest by a third body, and that third again by a fourth, and
so on to infinity " {Ibid. 13, Lemma 3). To put forth as an
explanation of the motion of body any idea of design is to
show ignorance of the true cause of motion, which is a
mechanical one {Eth. I, Appendix).
Such are the laws obeyed by that part of nature which is
the material universe, and such are its constitutive elements.
Matter, all the properties of which can be reduced to extension,
is, with thought, one of the modes by which the infinite
substance or natura naturans reveals itself. Motion in space
governed by inflexible mechanical laws and forming an
unbroken chain ; thoughts linked together by necessary
relations these are the two parallel series of facts by which
the single, immovable, infinite substance expresses and
diversifies itself.
Malebranche : Intelligible Extension and Particular Bodies.
Malebranche's theory of matter may be said to form a
connecting link between the theories of Descartes and Spinoza.
While on the one hand he identifies matter with extension, on
the other he endeavours also to establish the dependence of
extended substance on the Divine Substance. In order to
prove that extension is the essence of matter, he is content
to repeat the arguments used by Descartes ; figure, divisibility,
impenetrability, and, in a more general way, extension of
which the others are only modifications are the qualities
without which matter cannot be conceived, the qualities which
constitute its essence {Rech. de la V6rit4, III, 2nd Part, VIII, 2).
MATTER 165
Extension, which constitutes the whole reality of matter, is
not the object of mere sensible perception, but is seen by the
human mind in the Divine Intelligence of which it is an idea.
The idea of extension as it dwells in the infinite mind, and as
seen in it by the finite mind, " intelligible extension," is thus,
in the last resort, the cause and veritable substance of material
phenomena, the " archetype of matter." Our perception of
the divers bodies is explained by the determination, in this
intelligible and general extension, of certain coloured portions ;
or, in other words, by the projection into extension of colour,
which is a purely subjective modification of the soul.
" What is called seeing bodies is nothing else than having actually
present to the mind the idea of extension, which affects or modifies the
mind by different colours : for bodies are not seen directly, or immediately,
as they are in themselves. It is therefore certain that bodies are seen
only in the intelligible extension which is made particular and accessible
to our senses by colour ; and that colours are merely sensible perceptions
which the mind has of extension when the latter acts upon and modifies
it" {Answer to Regis. Ch. II).
Intelligible extension is not an abstraction. As infinite,
eternal, and necessary, it can only be an idea of the Infinite
Mind.
What is the relation of this intelligible and divine extension
to particular bodies, as they are presented to us by our sensible
perception ? Do the different bodies already exist with their
individual and definite forms in the intelligible extension ? No.
" We must not imagine the relation between the intelligible and the
material world to be of such a kind that there exists, for instance, an
intelligible sun, or horse, or tree, which is destined to represent to us the
sun, a horse, or a tree, and that all those who see the sun necessarily see
this supposed intelligible sun" (Reck, ale la Ver. 10 me eclaircissement).
Intelligible extension is, in fact, merely a possibility of
bodies having for its foundation the infinite perfections of
God : a possibility no doubt, but, at the same time, a veritable
reality, since it forms part of the Divine Essence. This
intelligible extension becomes sensible and is particularized
when it acts on the soul of man and awakens in it the
consciousness of such and such a body.
"Any intelligible extension may be conceived as being round or as
having the intelligible form of a horse ora tree ; therefore any intelligible
166 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
extension may serve to represent the sun, a horse, or a tree, and may
consequently be the sun, horse, or tree of the intelligible world, and even
become the visible and sensible sun, horse, or tree if the soul has on the
occasion of these bodies some feelings to join to these ideas ; in other words,
if these ideas cause sensible perception in the soul " (Ibid).
Thus the world of bodies is intelligible extension divided
up into a multiplicity of particular forms, and acting on the
human soul in such a way as to awaken in it impressions
which are more or less confused. It is a transition from
potentiality to actuality, but from a potentiality which is in
fact a true reality, since it forms part of the Divine Essence.
There are, thus, two stages in Malebranche's theory :
in the first he abstracts from the notion of matter all that is
given to us by our purely subjective sensibility {i.e. the
secondary qualities), retaining in his definition the one
essential and fundamental property of extension. In the
second he rises above this entirely subjective point of view
and reaches the Absolute, the vision of things in God.
Extension then appears to him as an idea in the Divine
Mind, as an intelligible and divine extension ; he thus departs
from the doctrine of Descartes and approaches that of Spinoza.
"Extension is a reality, and in the Infinite all realities are
found. God has therefore extension as well as bodies, since He possesses
all the absolute realities or every perfection ; but God is not extended in
the same way as bodies are, for He has not the limitations and imperfections
of His creatures" (8th Entretien Me'taph. 7). "The infinite and divine
extension is God Himself ; not the whole of God, but God seen in His
relation to material creatures, in so far as He thinks these creatures and
can give them being ; in other words, in so far as He Himself is the Being
whence they borrow their reality ; in fact, in so far as He is, so to speak,
their being " (Olle-Laprune, La phil. de Malebranche, I, p. 203).
On Malebranche's hypothesis the real existence of bodies
was superfluous, and indeed was only accepted by him on the
faith of revelation which taught him that God has set forth
intelligible extension in a multitude of different individual
forms.
Leibnitz gives Three definitions of Matter, more and more
Metaphysical.
Leibnitz analyses the idea of extension which to the
Cartesians appeared to be so clear and simple, and finds that it
MATTER 167
involves difficulties which had escaped their notice. Extension,
whether we regard it, like the Cartesians, as continuous, or, like
the Atomists, as discontinuous and composed of units separated
by a vacuum, can in no way, according to Leibnitz, constitute
the substance of matter. To regard extension as a being or
substance is self-contradictory. Extension is the manifold, a
compound the constituent elements of which it would be vain
to seek, since it is indefinitely divisible (Erdmann, 123). The
true reality, or substance, is force, the monad. What then is
matter ? Leibnitz distinguishes a materia prima or abstract
matter which is purely passive, and a materia secunda or con-
crete matter endowed with activity. " This distinction, as
the depth of its meaning gradually appears, gives rise
to a theory of matter which is presented to us under
three forms, each of which is more metaphysical than the
other " (see M. Boutroux's admirable Introduction to the
Monadologie, p. 53 sq.).
By considering extension, in the first place, from the physical,
that is, from Descartes' own point of view, we are able to find
a definition of matter which is more profound and more
complete than the Cartesian.
Regarded from this point of view the materia prima or bare matter
consists of avTiTviria or impenetrability and extension (Erdm. 463).
avTLTvn-la is the attribute in virtue of which matter is in space. IUud
attributum per quod materia est in spatio (Ibid.). It is a passive resistance,
what is called impenetrability, inertia. This property cannot be reduced
to extension ; on the contrary, extension is reducible to resistance. " The
primitive, passive power does not consist in extension, but in an exigency
of extension. Non in extensione sed in extenrionis exigentia consistit " (Ibid.
436), in the tendency to extend. Extension is a continuation, a diffusion
of dvTtTviria in space. It is the realization of the primitive possibility of
being extended. Ita dum antitypia continue per locum diffunditur sen
c rti'ii, liter, m-r a/itid (/uiiiquam f>oi>it>ir, oritur materia in se, sen nuda ( Ibid.
463). When to this naked matter is added a principle of motion, an
elastic force, we have the second matter, materia .>eunda sen vestita.
This matter is not, like the other, merely impenetrable and mobile, but
contains a principle of activity (principium oxtirum eon ti net), a super-
added force, vis activa materiae superaddita, which makes it capable of
reaction (repercutit) (Ibid. 466).
So far we have considered matter in its external aspect
only, let us now see what matter is when considered from an
168 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
internal point of view, that is from the point of view of the
monad. The monad is a created and finite spiritual substance,
existing in company and in contact with other monads, which
are finite and created like itself. It is consequently not
susceptible of full development ; all its tendencies do not
attain actuality ; it is arrested, so to speak, in its expansion by
its own finite character on the one hand, and on the other
by its relation with the other finite monads. This passivity of
the monad, this impediment to its development is what,
according to Leibnitz, constitutes the materia prima. To this
purely passive element is added in every complete substance
an active principle or entelechy.
"Materia prima propria id est potentia passiva primitiva, ah activa
inseparabilis ipsae Entelechiae {quam complet, ut monada, sell substantiam
completam constituat) co?icreatur" {Erdm. 456). This purely passive force
inherent in every monad is the principle of antityp\a and of ex-
tension ; in other words, of the materia prima of which we have spoken
above. As for the second matter, considered thus from the point of view
of the monad substance, it is an aggregate of monads : " ex pluribus
monadibus resultare materiam secundam {intelligimus) cum viribus derivatis
actionibus, passionibxis, quae non sunt, nisi entia per aggregatiotiem" {Erdm.
436).
The materia secunda is formed out of an infinite number of
complete substances, each of them having its entelechy and
materia prima, which are dominated by a central monad ; in a
word, it is an organic body.
The materia secunda, as for instance the body, is not a substance, but
a mass consisting of several substances like a pond full of fish or a flock
of sheep {Erdm. 736). Each portion may be conceived as a garden full of
plants or as a pond filled with fish, but each sprig of the plant, each limb
of the animal, every drop of its humours is in its turn such a garden or
such a pond {Monad. 67, Erdm. 710).
To sum up : the materia secunda, or organic body, is the
external representation, the phenomenon, and, as it were, the
configuration in extension, of a group of monads or simple
substances, presided over by one dominating monad. But
does this representation in extension result immediately from
the grouping of the monads, or does it occur by means of a
vinculum substantiate, an intermediate principle by which the
phenomena are realized ? {Lettre au P. cles Bosses). In one
MATTER 169
or two passages Leibnitz appears to regard the vinculum sub-
stantiate as a reality distinct from the monads, something real
and substantial which is the common subject of attributes and
of modifications : vinculum reale sen substantiate aliquid, quod
sit subjectum communium seu conjungentium praedicatorum et
modificationum (Erd. 741). But his system logically excluded
the existence of a special entity serving to unite the simple
substances, and he expressly affirms that the vinculum sub-
stantiate is no more than the relation of the monads, resulting
from the pre-established harmony between their activity and
their passivity : Vincula ilia, quod liabent reale, habebunt in
modificatione cujus-libct monadis, et harmonia seu consensu
monadum inter se {Erd. 713).
But this view of the monad as a substance acted on by
and reacting upon other monads does not take us beyond the
surface of things. The monad is no doubt a substance, but it
is also and above all a centre of perception, an activity which
develops itself spontaneously. Therefore the passive principle
which dwells in every created substance, or, in other words, the
materia prima is not, as at first appeared, an external obstacle,
but an entirely internal impediment to the representation in
the monad of other monads. Substantia agit quantum -potest,
nisi impediatur ; impeditur autem, etiam substantia simplex, sed
naturalihir non nisi intus a se ipsa {Erd. 740).
Each monad ought to represent the whole of the universe,
whereas it can only represent it from its own point of view,
which is not a central or absolute point of view. Each monad,
therefore, has in its finite nature a principle of confused per-
ceptions. The materia prima is, in the last resort, this
necessary imperfection, this internal limit of the monad. As
for the materia secuncla, or the organism regarded from this
point of view, it is " the grouping and arrangement of the
confused perceptions terminating in a distinct perception.
There is no distinct perception that does not contain in itself
an infinity of inferior perceptions, and so on ad infinitum. The
organism ultimately appears as the working of the mind
organizing its perceptions " (E. Boutroux, Op. cit.).
Such are the three stages in Leibnitz's theory of matter.
In the first, Leibnitz defines matter by extension after the
manner of Descartes, but he already goes beyond the Cartesian
170 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
definition, by pointing out the passive principle of resistance
antitypia, which is the exigency of extension and anterior to
extension. In the second degree, matter, considered from the
point of view of the monad as substance, appears to him as a
limitation of the finite substances by one another. Lastly, no
longer considering the monad as only a substance in communi-
cation with other substances, but as a centre of perception, an
entirely spontaneous activity, he makes matter the internal im-
pediment to the representation in each monad of other monads.
Berkeley and Hume deny the existence of Matter.
Leibnitz, although he reduced extension to an appearance,
a rational entity, had still allowed a certain amount of objec-
tive reality to matter ; the appearance was well founded, bene
fundata. Berkeley goes further and denies that matter has
any reality at all outside the mind. The primary as well as
the secondary qualities are only modifications of the sensitive
subject, and have no existence apart from it. When matter
has thus been stripped of all its primary and secondary
qualities, what remains ? Nothing at all. What is the use of
assuming the existence of an invisible, unknowable substratum
of which we can have no positive idea, which we cannot call
the cause of our impressions because we assume it to be
inactive and passive. Shall we say, then, that it underlies its
attributes ? But in that case it must be defined as extended,
and to do so would be to enter upon an infinite regression.
"Consequently every corporeal substance, being the substratum of
extension, must have in itself another extension by which it is qualified
to be a substratum, and so on to infinity " (1st Dialogue between Hylas and
Philo?ious, p. 289). We must therefore abandon the notion of the
external existence of a material substance, that is to say, of its existence
distinct from the quality of being perceived.
Hume agrees with Berkelev in his negative conclusions :
u '
Tis evident that . . . colours, sound, heat and cold, as far as
appears to the senses, exist after the same manner with
motion and solidity. . . . ; Tis also evident that colours,
sound, etc., are originally on the same footing with the pain
that arises from steel, and the pleasure that proceeds from
a fire " (Treatise of Human Nature I, IV. 2).
The very idea of an external world is an illusion, for in
MATTER 171
reality we never get beyond ourselves, beyond our subjective
perceptions. Tbere is, therefore, no material substances distinct
from the mind, but only a very strongly-rooted belief in the
reality of matter, in a " continued and distinct existence."
Every morning we think we see the same sun that we saw
the day before, but " 'tis a gross illusion to suppose that
our resembling perceptions are numerically the same ; and
'tis this illusion, which leads us into the opinion that these
perceptions are uninterrupted, and are still existent even when
they are not present to the senses " (Ibid.).
French Materialism in the 18th Century.
The materialistic movement which arose in France in the
18th century may be traced to various causes. Materialism,
which in England, from Hobbes and Newton to Hartley and
Priestley, was coexisted with religious faith and deism, was
used in France as an instrument against the Catholic beliefs
(see Lange's Hist, of Materialism).
The French Materialists combined Bayle's religious scep-
ticism with a mechanical conception of the world. La Mettrie's
Natural History of the Soul (1745) contained the germ of
theories which he himself was to develop later in his Homme-
machine, and which were destined to make so much noise in
the world. In order to know the properties of the soul which
is unknown to us in its essence, we must study the properties
of the body of whose essential nature we are also ignorant.
Real and concrete matter is never without motion : motion is
one of its essential properties, and even when it is not perceived
it exists as a possibility. Matter possesses also the faculty of
feeling ; the hypothesis of a soul distinct from matter, having
its seat either in a particular point or in some particular part
of the body, is inadmissible. La Mettrie was more clear
and more categorical in his famous work I ' Hbmme-machine
(1748). " Leibnitz," he said, " spiritualized matter instead of
materializing the soul." Descartes too was wrong in his dis-
tinction of two substances. The errors of the metaphysicians
arose out of their a priori methods ; for the complicated
machine, which is man, can only be known a posteriori through
the senses and by experience. La Mettrie investigates the
effect of environment, of food and education on the temperament,
172 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
and the effect of temperament on moral conduct. Man is a
material machine, the soul is merely the principle of motion, a
spring in the machine. " Thought is so far from being incom-
patible with matter that it would seem to be a property of
matter, like electricity, mobility, impenetrability, and extension.
In a word, man is a machine, and in the whole of the universe
there is only the one substance, which is modified in divers
ways."
The most important monument of the French Materialism
of the 18th century is Baron d'Holbach's Systtme de la
Nature. In the first part of this work he sets forth the
general principles of his system ; his ideas concerning nature,
matter, motion and its laws. Then follow the study of man,
an inquiry into the supposed differences between man as a
physical being and man as a moral being, and lastly, an
investigation of his origin.
The second part is devoted to the discussion and refutation
of the principal arguments for the existence of God. Nature
is an immense material and physical whole which contains all
beings, and among them man, a purely physical and material
being. Of what is this nature, this sole existing reality, com-
posed ? Of matter and motion. " The universe, that vast
assemblage of all that exists, presents everywhere nothing but
matter and motion. Seen as a whole it is an immense and
unbroken chain of causes and effects " (p. 8).
Motion is a universal and constant fact in nature : absolute
rest does not exist. But there are two kinds of motion : the
motion that is communicated, or impressed on a body from out-
side and perceptible to us ; and the internal and hidden move-
ments which take place inside the body between its different
molecules and which cannot be immediately apprehended by
our senses. To this last category belong, for example, the
motion which is brought about by the fermentation in the
molecules of flour, the growth of a plant or an animal, and
lastly, what are called the intellectual faculties of man, his
thoughts, passions, volitions. In his theory of matter,
d'Holbach was not strictly speaking an atomist. He admits,
indeed, the existence of elementary molecules, but he maintains
that the essence of these elements is unknown. We only
know some of their properties, which we discern through
MATTER ]73
the effects of changes produced in our sensations (p. 25).
All the modifications of matter are due to motion (p. 26).
In what is called the three kingdoms of nature there is a
perpetual exchange and circulation of the molecules of matter.
" From the stone which is formed in the bowels of the earth by the
close combination of analogous and similar molecules which have
come together, to the sun, that vast reservoir of inflamed particles which
illumines the firmament ; from the torpid oyster, to man active and
thinking, we see an unbroken progression, a perpetual chain of com-
binations and motions, resulting in beings different only in the variety
of their elementary substances, and in the proportions of these same
elements out of which arise their infinitely various modes of existence
and of action" (p. 31).
Kant: Definition of Matter ; An Expansive and Repellent
Force.
While Hume, denying the existence of anything outside of
mind, found in the mind, that is to say, in the association of
impressions brought about by habit and imagination, the
origin of our belief in the reality of matter, Kant also
seeks the principle of the formation of a world of objective
phenomena in the mind, not, however, in its empirical habits
and contingent impressions, but in its necessary and a priori
laws. Not that Kant, like Hume, rejects the hypothesis of
a world external to the mind ; he only declares it to be
inaccessible. In the construction of the external world, the
mind supplies the form only, the material element comes to
it from elsewhere, from the things-in-themselves.
His theory of matter falls into three parts or stages : What
is matter in itself, considered as a reality external to the
mind ? This is the metaphysical problem, and it is insoluble.
How does the mind, with its forms, and its categories, arrive
at the construction of an objective world set over against
itself ? This is the point of view of Criticism. The Trans-
cendental Aesthetic and part of the Transcendental Logic are
devoted to the solution of this second question. Thirdly, having
assumed the existence of an external objective world formed
by the combined action of the a priori laws of the mind
which furnishes the formal element, and of that external
reality which supplies the material element, what are we
to understand by matter ? To this pureh scientific question
174 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Kant replies in a work entitled : Metaphysische Anfangsgriinde
der Naturvnsscnschaft (Ed. Schubert & Eosenkranz, Vol. V).
In a general way matter is a something which affects our
senses, and as our senses can only be affected by motion, the
first determination of matter is motion. Matter is, then, in
the first place, that which is moveable in space, das Bewegliche
im Panme (Ibid. p. 320).
Having thus defined matter, Kant considers the laws of
the communication of motion : this is the object of the
Phoronomics, thence he proceeds to what he calls Dynamics, and
it is here that he completes his definition of matter. Con-
sidered no longer as a mere quantity, but as a quality, matter
is the moveable which fills a space. To fill a space is to
resist everything that could penetrate into that space, to
oppose all motion coming from without by a contrary motion.
As all resistance presupposes force of resistance, and all
motion a motor force, matter can only fill space through a
motor force (durch eine besondere bewegende Kraft, p. 343),
which must consist in a sort of original elasticity and in
a force of attraction and repulsion {Zurilckstossungskraft,
A nziehungskraft).
In virtue of this primordial force, matter is susceptible of
indefinite compression and cannot be penetrated by another
matter. By its repulsive force matter expands in space until
it finds an obstacle in the resistance of another body. There
is, therefore, no such thing as a vacuum, and matter is infinitely
divisible. The repulsive force by itself would cause universal
dissolution, and the attractive force by itself would reduce all
the parts of matter to a mathematical point. The repulsive
force only acts in contact, and the attractive force only at a
distance.
Kant's philosophy of Nature is thus a dynamism : his chief
objection to the atomistic and mechanical theory is the hypo-
thesis of a void. In his Mechanics (the third part of the work
mentioned above) Kant establishes the laws of motion, which
correspond to the laws of thought laid down in the Critique
of Pure Reason, or rather which are the same laws applied to
matter.
Firstly : the Laws of conservation of matter and of motion " In all the
changes of natural bodies the total quantity of matter remains the same,
MATTER 175
is neither increased nor diminished." Secondly : Law of inertia " Every
change in matter has an external cause." Thirdly: Law of the equality of
action and reaction "Whenever motion is communicated, action and
reaction are equal." Fourthly : Law of continuity "In no body can the
state of rest or motion nor in this latter state, the degree of rapidity
or direction be instantaneously modified by impact : this can only take
place in a determined time, and through a continuous and infinite series of
intermediate terms."
We must remember, however, that these laws are not the
laws of an absolute reality, of a material substance existing
outside the mind, but necessary and constant relations between
phenomena in space and time which are the a priori forms of
human sensibility. The mind, by means of its forms and its
categories, and by means of a material element furnished by an
unknowable reality, constructs a world of phenomena, an
objective world, governed by the laws enumerated above.
Fichte, Schelling, Hegel : What is Matter for the Idealists ?
Kant's successors, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel suppress
that unknowable reality external to the mind, which Kant had
allowed to subsist. The Kantian dualism is thus resolved into
an Idealistic Pantheism, in which the mind not only constructs
the external world by imposing on it its form, as Kant had
said, but creates and evolves it entirely out of its own activity.
Fichte rejects the existence of the noumenon, that thing-in-
itself, whose relation to the mind it is impossible to explain.
The things-in-themselves being abolished, there now remains
as the principle of phenomena only the Ego. The mind fur-
nishes not only the form, but the matter of knowledge. The
Ego alone is, and it is all ; but it can posit itself in conscious-
ness only in opposition to the Non-ego. The world is reduced
to the different decrees of the Ego, to the shocks which the Ego
suffers, or rather gives itself in the development of its essence.
The Ego presents itself as determined by the Non-ego, it must
therefore attribute to itself only a partial reality, refer to the
Non-ego all the reality which it does not attribute to itself, and
admit a reciprocal action of the Ego and the Non-ego. It is
because the Ego is determined, and appears to be passive, that
we attribute reality and activity to the Non-ego. The Non-ego
appears as the cause of this passivity in the Ego, and it is in
this way that the category of causality is formed.
176 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
But how can a passive modification of the Ego be derived
from the causality of the Non-ego, when the Ego is the principle
of all activity, when the activity of the Non-ego and the
passivity of the Ego are implied in the Ego's own activity ? In
order to solve this difficulty, Pichte assumes the existence in the
Ego of an independent activity (unabhangige Thdtigkeit), whose
essence consists precisely in this limitation by the object of the
infinite activity of the Ego. This activity is the productive
imagination {die produktive Einbildungskraft), which by an un-
conscious action creates the object, or rather a representation of
the object, and owing to the very fact that its action is
unconscious, makes the object appear as a thing external
to, and independent of us.
Schelling begins by developing Fichte's theory {Ideen zu
einer Philosophie der Natur, 1797). He defines matter by
starting from the nature of intuition, but soon abandons this
Subjective Idealism, and for the Ego substitutes the Absolute,
which is neither subject nor object, but comprises and precedes
both terms. Philosophy must turn alternately from thought
to Nature and from Nature to thought, in order to reproduce
the life of the Absolute, which is the identity of subject and
object, of Being and thought. Considered as objective, the
Absolute is Nature, whose original identity with what is given
to us as intelligence and consciousness is to be made every
day more clear by speculative physics. The first manifestation
of the Absolute in its objective form is matter. Here Schelling
reproduces Kant's conception ; matter comprises a positive
force which resists all limitation by an infinite effort, namely,
repulsive force ; and a negative force which is opposed to the
former, namely, attractive force. Repulsive force, which tends
to infinity, when it is limited by the attractive gives us space
filled and defined, or matter. The repulsive and attractive forces
are reduced to weight, which, as the supreme principle of the
reality of the forces involved in matter, is itself the Absolute.
Thus Schelling's philosophy of Nature, like that of Kant, is a
dynamism, but a dynamism endowed with intelligence and
reason to a fantastical degree.
The Absolute for Hegel is the Idea, and the universe is
merely the dialectical evolution of the Idea. Take away from
an object its rational element and nothing remains; therefore
MATTER 177
this rational element is what constitutes true reality. Nature is
the Idea becoming external, other than itself (die Idee in der Form
des Andersseins). The Idea, in so far as it is sundered, negates,
itself, sets itself in opposition to itself, and becomes other or
an external object. For the very reason that it finds in
nature only an imperfect and inadequate expression, the Idea
tends to recover itself, to return to itself. Thus it is that
nature, with all her potentialities, throughout all her trans-
formations tends towards Spirit, a higher form of the Idea, in
which it becomes conscious of itself. Nature is then a system
of moments which proceed necessarily one from the other, and
each of which is the truth of the one from which it results.
The starting-point of this evolution is the sundered existence
which has the principle of its form and its unity outside itself ;
in other words, it is the material and mechanical world.
To deduce matter a priori, to make it depend on the logical
movement of the Idea, was no easy task, and, indeed, Hegel's
abstractions become at this point somewhat unintelligible.
Space is ideal contiguity ; it is pure and abstract exter-
nality. Time is ideal succession, pure becoming. Time and
Space are the most abstract categories of nature ; with them
Hegel constructs according to the process of his dialectic, place,
motion, and finally matter, which is their immediate unity.
Matter comprises a repulsive and an attractive force ; the
identity of repulsion and attraction constitutes weight, in
which the notion of material substance is completed and
realized.
Materialism in Germany : Feuerbach, Buchner, and Moleschott.
The great Idealistic systems of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel
were followed in Germany by a materialistic reaction, the
causes of which are to be found chiefly in the progress of
the natural sciences and of commerce. A small portion of
the Hegelian school itself inclined, if not towards Materialism,
at least towards a Sensationalism which would inevitably lead
to it. The principal representative of this tendency is Ludwig
Feuerbach. " Truth, reality, the world of sense are identical.
The sensible thing alone is true, real ; the world of sense alone
is truth, reality. Body forms part of my being, nay more,
my whole body is my self, my very being " (Grundsdtze der
II. M
178 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Philosophic der Zukunft, 1849). Feuerbach, however, deduces
from these principles a sensationalism which was idealistic
rather than materialistic.
Two philosophers in particular have contributed to this
revival of Materialism Moleschott and Biichner. Moleschott,
in his Kreislauf cles Lebens (1852), sets out, like Feuerbach,
from sensationalism, whence he deduces a materialistic theory.
Matter is inseparably united to force. Both are eternal, and
there is a perpetual exchange or circulation of force and
matter. He waxes poetic when he considers the metamor-
phoses of this indestructible and ever-moving substance :
The exchange of the forms of matter is an everlasting force, " an ever-
flowing fountain of youth. . . . What is there ignoble in a theory which
makes us regard every repast as a sacrament (Abendmahl), in which we con-
vert unthinking matter into thinking beings, in which we truly partake
of the flesh and blood of the Spirit, and thus through our children's
children diffuse spirit into every part of the world and throughout
every age?" {Kreislauf des Lebens, pp. 437, 439).
Biichner (Force and Matter, 1855) also makes empiricism his
starting point. Experience alone can lead us to truth ; ex-
perience excludes all supersensible knowledge, and through it
we apprehend relations only, things existing only in their
relation to one another. Force and matter are inseparable ;
both are eternal. Thought, however, is inclined to separate
them, and even to regard them as opposed to each other.
We are unable to define mind and force otherwise than as immaterial,
as excluding matter, or as antithetical to it. "The words, mind, spirit,
thought, sensibility, volition, life, designate no entities and nothing real,
but only properties, capacities, actions of the living substance, or results
of entities which are based upon the material form of existence. He
compares this result to that of a steam-engine, the force of which is in-
visible, inodorous, and intangible, while the steam it emits is a secondary
thing, and has nothing to do with the ' be-all and end-all of the machine.' "
(Lange's Hist, of Materialism II, 115).
As we see, Biichner's theory provides no distinct definition
of either matter or force. The ancient materialists were more
consistent and more intelligible when they reduced all force to
motion, to the pressure and impact of matter.
As was to be expected in the country that had given birth
to Kant, many German thinkers protested against Materialism
MATTER 179
on the ground of the nature and limits of our knowledge.
Dubois-Keymond {Limits of our Knowledge of Nature) maintains
that the materialistic theory which is so convenient for the
explanation of phenomena is far from being an ultimate
explanation of things. In reality, what we possess as regards
nature is not knowledge but a show of explanation or a sub-
stitute for knowledge. Materialism has to confront two
insoluble difficulties. (1) We are unable to understand the
atoms ; we cannot represent to ourselves a thing entirely with-
out sensible qualities, while at the same time all our know-
ledge tends to convert these qualities into mathematical
relations. (2) We cannot explain any single one of the
phenomena of consciousness by means of atoms and motion.
Lange (History of Materialism), adopting the point of view
of Critical Idealism, admits that Materialism is an excellent
formula for the study of nature, and in fact the only true
and scientific form an explanation of natural phenomena can
take ; but to imagine that it is an ultimate and definitive
solution of the metaphysical problem is a naive illusion, arising
out of that other illusion which consists in taking the
phenomenal world of space and time as the type of true
reality. The study of the objective world as governed by the
laws of determinism is not the sole function of thought : it
has another and higher task to perform. Owing to its power
of poetic creation, the mind is able to conceive the existence,
alongside of the objective world, of an ideal world, more
beautiful, more harmonious, better adapted than the other to
its true needs, to its secret tendencies a world in which it
enjoys full independence and a complete autonomy.
CHAPTER III
MIND
Those philosophers who deny the existence of matter yet find
themselves obliged to give some explanation of the phenomenon
which awakens the idea of matter in the human mind ; even the
most uncompromising Idealists have had to assume a principle of
limitation and of passivity : thus the problem of matter forces,
itself upon every system of philosophy, including those which
deny that there is any such thing as matter. And the case is
the same with the problem of mind. An explanation must be
found for the activity and relative order which seem to be
the conditions of existence in the world, and for the will and
self-conscious intelligence found in man. In this wide sense,.
the problem of mind has had to be faced by every school and
every system, for it enters as a necessary element into every
philosophy of nature and of thought.
Progressive Distinction between the Corporeal and Spiritual y
from Thales to Socrates.
The distinction between soul and body was, with primitive
man, the result of the experience of death : a man was alive,
he dies, and his body, which has still the same appearance, has
lost all power of motion and feeling. The idea of the soul
contained at first no elements except those which could be
directly deduced from this experience (Zeller, Pre-Socratic
Philosophy, Eng. tr. I, p. 124). The soul was like a breath of
air, it was a subtle body, sometimes conceived in the likeness
of the phantoms seen in dreams. For Homer, however, the
MIND 181
soul is a kind of image in the form of the body, and it escapes
at the moment of death through the mouth or through an open
wound. When separated from the physical organism it is only
a shade (e'lSwXov) without strength, or consciousness, or recollec-
tion {Odyss. X, 490 sq.; XI, 34, 151, 215, etc.). The world is con-
ceived on the analogy of man, and all nature is supposed to be
full of souls like that which man believes he possesses himself.
We recognize the influence of these primitive conceptions in
the first period of philosophy. The distinction between soul
and body was not as yet a distinction between material and
spiritual elements. The old Ionic philosophers sought the first
principles of things in a living matter which was transformed
in a progressive evolution (Doctrine of Hylozoism). Whether
this matter be water, air, or fire, or an indeterminate Infinite
(as with Anaximander), it is always identified with the force
that moves and animates it. When, with the progress of
reflection, a place was given amongst the principles of nature,
not only to force, but to intelligence, reason was conceived
as merely another attribute of the primary matter (e.g. the
" thinking air " of Diogenes of Apollonia).
The fire of Heraclitus is a Eeason which mingles with
everything, and which out of the strife of contraries brings
forth harmony. The human soul is made of warm and
dry vapours. The purer the fire, the more perfect the soul.
" The soul that is the most dry is the best and most pure" (Frag.
54). " If the drunken man cannot contain himself, it is because
his soul is soiled by moisture " (Frag. 53). The soul, like every-
thing else, is subject to the law of change, and must therefore
nourish itself with the external fire in order not to be exhausted.
Eeason, which is identical with fire, enters into our bodies through
the organs of sensation, and through respiration. When the
organs of sense close in sleep, the flame of reason darkens ; when
they open again on our awakening, it lights up once more. But
it is extinguished for ever when man loses connection through
respiration with the external world.
Parmenides, who taught the absolute unity of Being, and
denied all becoming, did not need any principle to explain
the apparent motion and order in tilings. For him the
multiplicity of souls is only an illusion. His philosophy of
nature is a concession to the demands of common sense ; that
182 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
is to say, it rests upon what seems to him to be the most
plausible theory. Far from setting up any antithesis between
the spiritual and the corporeal, he explains all psychological
phenomena by the mixture of substances in the body.
The Pythagoreans thought they had found an adequate
explanation of the cosmic order when they made Number the
substance of things. Harmony was placed above Number, as a
kind of soul of the world governing the cosmos ; if there was
harmony in the universe, it was because the essential con-
stituent of things, namely, Number, was itself harmony. How
did the first Pythagoreans conceive the human soul ? Aristotle,
in his review of the opinions of his predecessors concerning the
soul, merely says of the Pythagoreans that " some among them
sought the soul in particles that are in motion : rtju ^v-^tjv
elvai to. ev tu> aepi ^utr/uaTa., oi oe to ravTa kivovv " (De
Anima, I, 2, 404 a, 16). To the Pythagoreans the opinion is
also attributed that the soul is a harmony. But as everything
with them was number and harmony, this does not imply any
distinction between human souls and other things. Did they
regard the soul as the harmony of the body, as we are told in
the Phaedo ? It is difficult to reconcile this opinion with the
doctrine of the immortality and transmigration of souls taught
by the Pythagoreans.
In Democritus we find a frankly materialistic theory of the
soul. Motion being eternal, there is no need to distinguish
matter from the force that moves it. The soul is corporeal,
and its substance must correspond to its functions. Now, the soul
is a vivifying and moving force. But all motion arises out of
an impact ; therefore the soul must be composed of the most
mobile substance, of atoms that are subtile, smooth, and round ;
in other words, of fire (Arist. Be Anima, I, 2, 403 h, 29). The
universe is full of fiery atoms. The soul is therefore not a
force that organizes the world, but a part of matter, and it is
formed out of the multitude of fiery atoms which engender
motion and life. In man the soul pervades the whole body;
between every two corporeal atoms a psychical atom is
inserted (Lucr. Ill, 370). It might be supposed that the
fiery atoms would be driven out of the body by the
surrounding air, but this danger is averted by respiration
which introduces new fiery elements, and above all forms an
MIND 183
opposite current, which prevents the psychical atoms in the
body from escaping.
Heraclitus' theory of the soul, the substitution in the Eleatic
and Pythagorean systems of an abstract principle for a
material element, the general progress of Greek thought, all
helped to prepare the way for the distinction between the
material and the spiritual. Anaxagoras was the first of the
Greek philosophers to formulate clearly this distinction, and, for
this, Aristotle greatly honours him : " he was like a sober
man amongst men who spoke at random " : olov vi'jcpcov ecpdvtj
Trap eiK)j Aeyorra? (Meta. I, 3, 984 b, 16). In the beginning,
all the elementary substances are mixed up together. The
distinction and combination of like particles are the work of
an organizing and motor force, namely, Nouy, intelligence :
TTCLVTO. t]V 6jU.(io$, 6 Not'? e\6o)V TTOLVTa OlKOCriU.r](T.
Anaxagoras distinctly separates matter from the force by
which it is moved and governed ; but the attributes by which
he characterizes intelligence, show that his notion of it was
not yet very clear.
The Xovs is simple, and not like all other things, composed of hetero-
geneous elements. Mixing with nothing it exists alone and of itself,
" fiovvos avrbs (/>' cuivtov ecrnv " (Frag. 8). It is infinite (airtipov)^
independent (avroKpares), never passive (a7ra#s), it has unlimited
knowledge, "knows what is mixed, what is distinct, and what is
separate " (Simpl. De Cael. 271 a, 20). Lastly, it has absolute power
over matter, to which it alone can communicate motion : " yvwp.r)v Trepl
7rai'TOs iraa-av i'cr^ei kcu lcr\vzi fieyicrTov " (Frag. 8).
Such is the spiritual element in the conception which
Anaxagoras formed of the Nov?. But, on the other hand, his
Nou? is described as the most subtile of all things : XeirroraTov
(Frag. 8) ; its quality does not change, but its quantity varies.
The souls of other beings are parts of it ; and these parts may
be either greater or smaller. " In everything there are parts
of everything except perhaps of intelligence, but in some
beings there is also intelligence " (Frag. 7). The Novg was
thus a kind of world-soul, an intermediate substance, which
was akin to the spiritual in so far as it was simple, inde-
pendent, and intelligent, and to what is corporeal, in so far
as it possessed quantity, and perhaps also extension.
184 THE PKOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
Socrates himself tells us (Phaedo, 97 b) that he was delighted
with the theory of Anaxagoras ; but he would seem to have
merely enlarged the province of an intelligence that loved the
good. His God is a kind of world-soul (rj ev tw ttolvti (ppovrjo-is),
a wisdom which pervaded all things. The soul of man is
only a small part of the universal intelligence, just as his
body only contains a very small portion of the material
elements {Mem. I, 4). This soul, although invisible, exists and
is the sovereign ruler of the body (fiacriXeuei ev tj/uv), and, as
reason, it, more than anything else in man, participates in the
divine.
Plato : the Soul of the World and Individual Souls.
It is not easy to disengage Plato's theory of the soul from
the symbolic form in which he clothes it. The world is an
animated, living whole, which has a body and a soul. The
soul of the world, fashioned directly by the demiurgus, in
proportions that are mathematical and musical (Timaeus, 35 b
sq.), is a middle term between the intelligible and the sensible.
God puts intelligence into the soul and the soul into the body
(Tim. 30 6). To fulfil its rdle of medium, the soul must possess
something of each of the two opposite natures which are recon-
ciled in it. In the soul are blended the one and the many
(Tim. 35 ft). What moves itself must exist before that which
is moved by something else. The soul possesses in itself the
principle of its own movement. It moves the body according
to numerical and harmonical relations : it makes the world
into a wise mixture of the Limit and the Unlimited (-n-epag,
aireipov). This soul, this principle of harmony, is a reality
(ovala), a substance extended throughout the world by the
demiurgus and divided according to harmonical relations
which correspond to the laws followed by the motion of the
stars (Tim. 34 b sq.). The soul is not only the principle of
the visible order in things, it is also the principle of all
knowledge ; and this is another reason why it combines in
its nature the same (ravrov) and the other (to erepov), the
intelligible and the sensible ; for in Plato's theory like can
only be known by like (Tim. 37 a). This account of the
soul is evidently partly symbolical, and not meant to be taken
literally. According to Aristotle, it is ra /naOrj/uLariKa, the
MIND 185
mathematical elements, that are the middle term between the
sensible and the intelligible, and they perform the same
function as the world-soul in the Timaeus {Met. I, 6 ;
987 a, 14). The mathematical forms are eternal, not subject
to becoming, and are distinguished from the Idea in that each
Idea is one, whereas there are several similar mathematical
forms. Since matter, as such, is Non-being, we may say that
what is real in the world-soul, as in the mathematical forms,
is the Idea, and that, consequently, the Idea is the ultimate
principle of order and motion in the world of bodies (see Zeller,
II, I, p. 568, Germ. ed.).
The individual souls appear to be parts of the world-soul, as
the elements of the body were parts of the universe (Philebus,
30 a). The stars are the highest among the beings that have an
individual soul, and next to them are men. The soul cannot
be regarded as a collective unity, as the harmony of the body
{Phaedo, 92 b sq.)\ it is incorporeal, simple, invisible, and
existed before the body which it governs, too /mev delcc kcu
a6avaT(p km vor)T(p kq] /uovoeioei kcu aoiaXvTai kui aei dtxxairrw?
kcu kutu tout e-^ovTi cuvtw ojj.oi6to.tov eivai xJ/vvjyi' {Phaedo,
80 b).
There are three parts in the soul ; the first, the vovg, is
divine ; the second, which is fleeting and mortal, is desire,
7ri6ufjLia ; the third, whose function it is to unite these two
extremes, is the Ou/ulos, which has something of the nature of
each of the two others. These three parts of the soul
represent the three classes of living beings. To the t7ri6ufxla
correspond plants ; to the Ou/uos, animals ; to the vow, men.
Aristotle : the Soul, the Formal, Effieient, and Final Cause of
the Body.
Aristotle finds no unity in the world except that which
results from a universal tendency towards the same perfection,
that is, towards God ; in his system, therefore, a world-soul is
not required. In the sphere of change every being is the
product of the union of matter and form : ovala avvoXov e v\tj?
kcu eiSow {Mcta. VIII, 2). Matter is the substratum {viroKel-
nevov), which becomes this or the other, or is the subject of
change. The form {elfios, /uop<p}'j) is that which makes of
matter a particular, determinate, or real thing ; it is the per-
186 THE PKOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
fection, the activity, the soul of the thing. Since everything
that becomes has its formal cause, which is its principle (oQev
1 a PX*1 T *7 ? Klv wew) and its end (tcXo?, to ov eveica), one may
say that there is in every being a principle analogous to the
soul. The soul is in the proper sense of the word the first
entelechy J (evreXe-^eia 7rpcoTr]) of an organized body potentially
possessing life (De An. II, 1 ; 412 a, 15) ; the entelechy of the
eye is the action of looking at something at a given moment,
(opatris). Suppose the eye were by itself a complete living
thing, its soul would be o^\n<t, the faculty of vision. The o^is
is the essence, the orm of the eye. The soul is to the body
what the o^is, vision, is to the eye, and in this sense it has
something of the body (ri cra^aTo?) ; but this something is
neither figure nor motion, but the peculiar activity which
gives to the body figure and motion, the cause of the agreement
and harmony between all its parts (De An. II, 4 ; 415 b, 7). In
a living being the body is the material cause ; the soul stands
to it in the relation of its entelechy, of its formal, efficient, and
final cause. The soul is the end of the body, an end which is
real, immanent, and not a mere regulative idea external to its
functions. This end is the immovable cause of all the move-
ments directed towards itself ; therefore, we must not say with
Plato, that the soul moves itself, for it moves as a sailor moves
on his ship (De An. 404 a).
The soul, being the end of the body, cannot be a material,,
indeterminate thing ; it must be a finished, defined being,
not merely any substance in general, but the form of a special
body, whose life, individuality, and organization it con-
stitutes (De An. 414 a, 21). The soul, the final and formal
cause of the body, is also its efficient cause, since it gives
rise to, and directs all its movements and is the real, the first
entelechy, which realizes throughout the body all the con-
ditions of life. The soul is therefore, with regard to its divisible
and material body, the indivisible unity of the three causes,
1 The first entelechy is to the second what science is to actual thought.
The geometer is not always occupied with geometry. If the eye were a,
living thing, vision would be the soul of the eye. The faculty of seeing
(first entelechy) can be distinguished from the act itself of seeing any
particular object (second entelechy). The eye is always adapted for vision,,
even when it is covered.
MIND 187
the efficient, formal, and final. The two terms presuppose
or imply one another. The soul is not in the body as in a
dwelling, which it may abandon ; it cannot travel from
body to body, being able to exist only in the body that
corresponds to its essence, and which by this very fact it
creates (De An. 407 b, 13).
There are three kinds of souls corresponding to the three
forms of life found in Nature : these are the vegetable, the animal,
and the human soul. The soul of plants is to dpeirriKOv, nutritive,
(De An. 413 b, 7), and its functions are nutrition and genera-
tion. The soul of the animal is alo-OrjTinr], sensitive (De An.
413 b, 1) ; sensation gives rise to desire, and desire to motion.
The human soul is characterized by reason. The vegetable
soul has a special, independent existence in the plant, and in
the animal it blends with the sensitive soul ; the rational soul
in its higher life comprises and unifies the two inferior souls
and their functions.
After Aristotle the notion of the Spiritual disappears. The
Epicureans : Elements of the Soul. The Stoics : the irvev/xa.
After Plato and Aristotle the conception of the spiritual
became very obscure. The Epicureans returned to Atomism and
to the conception of a material soul. Nothing was incorporeal
except the void, which was neither active nor passive. The soul
was composed of very subtle elements ; and they gave two proofs
of this subtlety : in the first place, the promptitude with which
the will moves the body ; in the second place, the fact that a
man when dead weighs as much as when alive (Lucretius, III,
178, 231 et seq). What were the elements of the Epicurean soul ?
Lucretius distinguishes in it a light breath (aura), heat, (calor),
and air (aer). To these three elements is added a fourth, omnino
nominis expers (III, 243), which is the most subtile of all, and is
composed of the smallest and smoothest atoms. It is this fourth
element that communicates motion and sensibility, first to the
aura, the calor, and the aer, then to the blood, then to the
viscera, and finally to the bones and muscles. These four
elements, closely united, mixed, and, as it were, fused together,
are present in every part of the body. Thought corresponds
to the most subtile of them ; and to each of the others
there corresponds a special quality : Heat is the principle of
188 THE PEOBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
courage ; the aura, of fear ; the air, of calmness and indifference.
Heat predominates in the lion, aura in the stag, aer in the ox.
In man all three kinds of temperament are found.
The Stoics also, on their part, said that all that is real is
corporeal, but they endowed matter with attributes which
belong properly only to a spiritual substance. The ideas of the
spiritual and the corporeal, which since Plato and Aristotle
had seemed to be clearly distinguished, were now once more con-
founded. The world, on the Stoic system, is a living thing, an
immense animal ; matter is its body, force its soul. But this force
is not incorporeal ; it is a subtle fire, a principle homogeneous
and co-extensive with its effects ; it pervades matter in a
material way, gives it form and embraces and contains it.
This corporeal soul, this burning and thinking breath (Trued/ma),
this organizing fire is God Himself (Stob. Eel. I, 56). " God
flows through the world like honey in the honeycomb "
(Tertull. De An. 44). His supreme intelligence manifests
itself in the order of the world and in human thought. God,
a material soul infused into the vast body, which it animates
and in which it moves, is the seminal reason (A 0709
cnrep/uLartKos) of the universe (D.L. vn, 136). All activity can
be reduced to motion in space, therefore all activity is physical,
and hence necessary. The soul of the world is at once Fate
and Providence.
The human soul is a fragment of God, airoa-Kaa-fxa tov Qeov
{E-pict. Diss. I, 14, 6), a part of the divine breath immersed in
the human body (in corpus humanum pars divini spiritus mersa)
(Sen. Ep. LXVI, 11). The soul, says Chrysippus (ap. Galen,
Hippoc. and Plat. Ill, 1), is an innate breath in us which
pervades the whole body and contains it. h -<\rvyr\ Trvev/xa eo-n
<rv/j.(pvTov rj/uiv cTwe^es iravri (Too/txaTi StrJKOV. This Trvevfxa is
composed of air and fire {ex aere et igne). The soul is thus a
material principle of the nature of air, and of fire. The Stoics
proved the materiality of the soul directly, by its sympathy with
the body, by its presence throughout the organism, and lastly,
by the moral resemblance between children and their parents.
The soul supports the elements of the body (e%es), presides
over its development ((pvcris), and is the principle of intellectual
life ("v^X'')- This hierarchy of functions does not affect the
unity, of the soul, which is always one and the same divine
MIND 189-
tire, fulfilling divers functions in the different material sub-
stances. The soul proper comprises eight parts : the riye^ioviKov
or ruling part, the five senses, the faculty of speech and the
faculty of reproduction.
The Soul and the 7rvev/uLa. Influence of Hebrew Theology;
Philo; the New Testament.
The theory of the trvev/xa is not peculiar to Stoicism; on the
contrary, it played a most important part in physiology, and
dominated the whole of medical psychology, till the date of the
discovery of the circulation of the blood. The irvev/xa in a
material sense was sometimes regarded as the soul itself,
sometimes as the chief organ of the soul, the medium between
mind and body. For primitive man the soul was a breath,
a subtle air. According to Diogenes of Apollonia, thought is.
born of the air which flows with the blood through the veins
all over the body. Eespiration, says Heraclitus, nourishes the
soul with the surrounding air, without which there is neither
life nor reason. In the physiological explanation offered by
Hippocrates, the air, inhaled and mixed with the internal
heat, plays the part of a dynamic principle. Most of the
physicians, even while belonging to different philosophical
schools, regarded the irvev/xa not only as the vital force which
organizes and sustains the body, but as the soul itself. The
illustrious Galen, who gave a definite form to the physiological
and medical theory of the irvevixa, was not decided as to
whether it is the soul itself or the chief organ of the soul.
For the Stoics, the irvevixa was corporeal, but had never-
theless all the attributes of the mind. This involved a contra-
diction, in consequence of which the theory of the -rrveufxa
gradually came to resemble the Platonic theory of an im-
material soul. This transformation was chiefly due to contact
with Hebrew theology. The Hebrew expression which corre-
sponds to the Greek word -Kveufxa (Ruach) had at the beginning a
material meaning. It was the air, the wind in living beings
respiration, the vital breath which circulated with the blood.
But the Biblical conception of God led to a spiritualizing of
the irvevjxa. Jehovah is distinguished from His work ; He
creates the world by an act of His will. The Tri/ev/ua could
not therefore be, as with the Greeks, a material element which
190 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
acted upon matter in a mechanical way. It was a principle
distinct from the body, like the principle of force and life.
Still the Old Testament always speaks of the irvevuxa as of a
semi-physical force : e.g. God's spirit leaves Him and is diffused
like a breath. In the Book of Wisdom which is attributed to
Solomon, but appears to have been written about the time of
Augustus, wisdom, that is God's power, which fills the world,
is a 7rvev/u.a, a breath which fuses together the attributes
of matter and mind (TroXufxepe? XeirTov 6y Sia wdvTwv
)(wpovv Trvev/xaTiov, all of these being characteristics which
remind us of the Stoic Materialism).
Philo was the most renowned of the Alexandrian Jews
who endeavoured to reconcile Judaism with Hellenism. With
him the theory of the irvev/xa takes a decidedly spiritual form,
although in his writings we find more than one contradiction,
in which we discern the influence of the Stoics and of the
Greek physicians. Jehovah, the unknowable God, cannot act
directly on matter ; it is therefore through intermediaries that
He governs the world. All those divine forces, all those
powers by which the world is bound to God, are comprised in
Wisdom or the Word. Philo's Aoyos is a more or less
coherent synthesis of the Hebrew Wisdom, the Aristotelian
Nous and the Platonic world of ideas. The divine Trvedfxa is
nothing but a form of the activity of the Word ; it is the Word
in so far as the latter not only represents the Ideas, the eternal
exemplars in God's mind, but in so far as it realizes them in
the world. Like the irveuixa itself, the Koyos is spiritual, and
yet Philo adopts the Stoic materialistic definition of quality:
e^is irveu/xa avTKTTpeobov ecp' eauTO.
Philo's psychology presents the same spiritual character and
the same contradictions. Space is full of souls. The pure souls
which have not been tempted by the false seductions of the
sensible life, are the messengers of God, the demi-gods, the
Greek heroes, the angels of Moses. Taken by itself and as
distinct from the sensible elements which result from its
union with the body, the soul is a divine force. Man is
united to God by his spiritual nature, is His image, and
even a part of Him (a7r6<T7raa-/ua). The vegetable and sensi-
tive soul is made up of the aeriform elements of the seed ;
reason comes from without, is the breath of God in man. As
MIND 191
a mere vital force the soul has its seat in the blood ; but the
-jrveviJLa, in which alone the essence of man consists, is the Divine
breath : rov Xoyifcov to Oecov -Kvevfxa ovcrla vovs air' ovpavov
KaTa7rvevar6eh avcodev. Philo, however, is not always con-
sistent, for he makes air the universal principle of life and of
the soul ; and he even says of the rational soul that it
emanates from that Ether of which heaven and the stars are
formed.
In the New Testament the irvevixa assumes an entirely
spiritual signification. Traces of the analogy between the
material air and the irveuna are only to be found in such
similes as " I saw the spirit descending from heaven like a
dove" (John I, 32); "The wind bloweth where it listeth "
(John III, 8). But the Eevealer, the Witness, the living
Eternal Principle of knowledge and belief for the faithful is the
immaterial, Divine Spirit (see John XIV, 16, 26). This mystical
meaning of the term irvev/jia is most striking in the writings
of Paul. With him there is no question of its being any
longer a physiological, organic force ; it is an entirely spiritual
force. The Spirit gives us faith, the knowledge of divine
things ; by it we enter into communion with God. " But he
that is joined unto the Lord is one spirit, ev irveu^a" (1 Cor.
VI, 17). The irvevfxa is no longer a vital force that organizes
the living body, but the principle of an entirely new life,
which is a dying to the life of sin and to the works of the
flesh.
Nco-Platonism : The notion of the Spiritual re-appears in
the Theories of the World-soul and of the Soul of Man.
In the Neo-Platonic system Metaphysics were once more
based on the notion of the spiritual.
" That which is incorporeal, according toAmmonius Saccas, the teacher
of Plotinus, is of such a nature that it unites itself to everything that is
capable of receiving it, as closely as those things which mutually alter and
destroy each other by being united, and at the same time it remains in
this union, entirely as it was before, as things remain which are only in
juxtaposition" (Ravaisson, Essai sur la M4taph. dArist. II, 374-5).
This possibility of self-bestowal without loss, of being
divided without ceasing to be one, is in fact the principle of
192 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
the theory of Emanation. From the Absolute Unity, as it were
by radiation, the Nov?, which is both intelligence and the intelli-
gible, proceeds, and from the Nov? proceeds the universal soul.
The soul of the world is the God of the Stoics, the principle of
unity in the cosmos which it pervades and contains. Between
the world of intelligible entities and the world as it appears
to us, it evolves a multitude of distinct powers out of the
forms which the intelligence comprises in its own unity. In
this evolution the world-soul, proceeding from one thing to
another, creates time and extension, which are the conditions
necessary to the fulfilment of its task. Thus it is from the
soul that all that is real in matter proceeds.
This universal soul embraces a multitude of individual
souls ; these, being desirous of making for themselves an
independent existence in some separate body, enamoured of
their own image, separate themselves from the soul, which is
their common principle, and fall into the body. Not that the
individual souls are merely parts into which the universal
soul is divided : the universal soul is whole and entire in each
one of the particular souls, is everywhere present with-
out division : juei/ova-tjg fxev o\/?, iroiovcrr]? Se irap auTrjs
ovSev tJTTov xoAXcc? (Enn. IV, ix, 4). It gives and yet
preserves itself, is multiplied and yet remains one. This
soul, ever similar to itself, which penetrates and brings
harmony into all the parts of the world, as into the organs
of our body, cannot be a material thing. In the first place,
what is extended and divisible is unable to impart unity to
anything, it must itself receive unity from some spiritual
principle, so that a material soul would require another soul,
and so on ad infinitum. In the second place, if the soul is
composed of parts, how are we to explain the sympathy and
harmony between its actions, how are we to account for the
unity of perception, of comparison, and of memory ?
Not only is the human soul closely united to the universal
soul, but it is not separated from the Not;? in which it is
represented, nor from the One from which it emanates like
everything else. Its task is to rise gradually once more
into the world of intelligibles, to return through ecstasy
to its true home, which is the Absolute Unity, the Supreme
Good.
MIND 193
Different Views concerning the Nature of the Soul held by
the Earlier Christian Philosophers.
The immortality of the soul would seem to follow as a
consequence from its spirituality : if the soul is indivisible it
is indissoluble. The spirituality of the soul as a condition
of its survival must, one might think, necessarily be a
dogma of Christianity ; nevertheless, among early Christian
philosophers there was some hesitation on this point. The
apologist Tertullian (born a.d. 160) was a materialist after
the manner of the Stoics ; he denied the existence of any-
thing immaterial, asserting that the soul and even God
were corporeal ; Omne quod est, corpus est sui generis : nihil
est incorporate nisi quod non est (De An. 7). He adopted
the theory of the irvev/xa ; the soul is subtle, luminous,
ethereal, a breath animating the body, penetrating all its
elements ; it is extended, and those who are in a state of
ecstasy can see it with their eyes as it sees itself.
In opposition to Tertullian, Gregory of Nyssa (331-394) rejects
all the definitions of the soul except that of Plato. Aristotle's
definition he disputes, saying that a body that potentially
possesses life before it is alive is inconceivable. The soul is
an ova-la avroreX^, a self-sufficient substance, which is always
in motion, and to which rest would be annihilation. It fills the
body, not materially, but dynamically, as light penetrates the
air. It is not, properly speaking, in the body, the body is in
it {De Opif. Horn. 11).
In the middle of the fourth century, Hilary, Bishop of
Poitiers, revived the doctrine of the materiality of the soul.
He maintained that every created thing, even the human soul,
is material, that God alone is outside the categories of space
and time. This doctrine was refuted by Claudianus Mamertus,
Bishop of Vienne in Dauphine (died 477) ; he proves, that
in order to distinguish the soul from God, it is not necessary
to assume its materiality. The soul does not come under
the categories of space and quantity ; and in this it
resembles God ; but it is created and moves in time, and in
this its resembles the body, and is something distinct from God
Who is eternal and uncreated. The soul is, therefore, spiritual :
as Gregory of Nyssa had said, it is not contained in the
body ; it is the soul that contains the body, for it is the soul
II. N
194 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
that constitutes and preserves the unity of the body (De Statu
Animae).
The Christian doctrine of the soul was established once
for all by St. Augustine, who also advanced arguments
which were to be repeated by most of his successors. The
soul is spiritual, because it is the subject of thought (De
Trin. X, 10, 15). It is impossible to regard thought as an
attribute of that which does not think. The soul perceives
directly in itself only spiritual functions, such as thought,
knowledge, volition, recollection (De Trin. X, 13). If it
were corporeal it would perceive immediately in itself
something corporeal (De Quant. An. 17, 30). The soul is
finally characterized and distinguished by the faculty of
reflection. A body has only one figure, one form ; it cannot
become the figure and the form of another body ; the mind
can know and love both itself and all other things (De Trin.
IX, 4). In a word, the soul is conscious of itself as an
unextended substance whose activities bear no relation to the
properties of matter.
The Middle Ages ecnd the Renaissance.
The Middle Ages produced no new method and no new
solutions, but the doctrines of Plato and of Aristotle prevailed
alternately : and it did not occur to the philosophers of this period
to make a study of reality and observe facts. Some among them
returned to the hypothesis of a world-soul, which would appear
to have been somewhat superfluous in any system that held
the creation of the universe by a God Who was also its Pro-
vidence. Bene Plato Spiritum Sanctum animam mundi quasi
vitam universitatis posuit, says Abelard (Theol. Chr. I, 1013).
Bernard of Chartres and William of Conches (during the first
half of the twelfth century), who were both fervent Platonists,
also adopted the theory of a world-soul. Bernard of Chartres
indeed finally arrived at a kind of Pantheism : mundus quidem
est animal, verum sine anima substantiam non invenias animalis
(Megacosmos). Above all things, he said, there is God, the
Ineffable One ; the Now is the mind of God, wherein dwell
the eternal ideas, the archetypes of all that exists. From
the Now flows the world-soul, as it were, by emanation (velut
emanatione dejliixit), which gives to the world its form and its
MIND 195
unity (naturam informavit). The Not/? is the Word ; the soul
of the world is the Holy Ghost (Oeuvres ine'd. d'Abelard, Be
Mundi Universit. See V. Cousin, Vol. I, p. 628 et seq.).
When the works of Aristotle had become known in the
West through the medium of the Arabs and the Jews, Scholastic
philosophy became Peripatetic about the beginning of Xlllth
century. The writings of William of Auvergne (died 1249)
mark this transition. In his treatise, called De Anima, which,
considering its period was a remarkable work, and which was
written under the inspiration of St. Augustine, he foreshadows
the cogito ergo sum of Descartes. It is contradictory to deny
the existence of the soul, he says, for he who denies the soul
knows that even while he denies, he thinks, and that if there
is thought there must be a thinking being. Moreover, we have
an immediate perception of our soul per dispositioncs intel-
ligibiles, quae sunt scientiae, dvbitationes et omnino cogitationes.
On the other hand, we know the souls of others only through
their bodies, that is, through signs or symbols. How, is it
then, that some men deny the existence of the soul ? It is
because they are accustomed to think under the condition of
space, of figure, scqui signa sensibilia ad excogitandas vel potius
ad imaginandas res. But let us imagine a man suspended in
the air, and so muffled up that he can use none of his senses,
this man will think, therefore he thinks himself (cogiteit et
intelligit ergo se cogitat et intclligit). He negates his body, he
affirms that which he has and which he feels (sentit) himself
to have, and this implies the existence of a soul which is
distinct from the body.
Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas adopted the doctrines
of Aristotle, and made them harmonize with Christian dogma,
According to St. Thomas, the embryo, from the beginning of
its life, possesses an individual soul which is, however, only a
vegetable soul (Summa Th. I, qu. 118, a. 2). This soul
disappears to make room for another, which is at once
vegetable and sensitive ; finally, the latter, in its turn, yields
its place to an intellectual soul which comprises within itself
the two other faculties : and it is not till then that the animal
becomes man. The human soul is thus a form without matter
forma separata), and the entelechy of the body. The organ-
izing principle of the body, of the motor and sensitive soul, and
196 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
finally of the rational soul, is one and the same substance. The
vegetable and sensitive souls are present in the embryo before
the appearance of the rational soul. The latter is created
immediately (Sum. Cont. Gent. II, 86, 1), comes from without,
and is so closely fused with the two others that they -are
entirely absorbed in it. This complicated doctrine was adopted
by the Council of Vienne, a.d. 1311
The Eenaissance prepared the way for modern philosophy.
Platonists, such as Ficino, and Aristotelians such as Caesalpinus,
all agreed in regarding extension as the essential attribute of
matter, and thought as the essential attribute of mind. Matter-
was now no longer, as with Aristotle, an indeterminate potenti-
ality ; it had a positive attribute, namely, extension. Thus the
historical continuity w T as not broken, for this theory of the
philosophers of the Renaissance brings us by a natural transi-
tion to the doctrines of Descartes (see Bitter, Hist, of Philos.
Part IX ; Chr. Philos. Vol. II ; Geschichte der Psychologic, by F.
Harms, p. 225).
We must mention, however, the influence exercised by
Averroes in the school of Padua, and the disputes between
the Averroists and the followers of Alexander of Aphro-
disias. The Averroists held that the active intellect was
impersonal, the same in all men ; but that, for this very
reason, it was immortal, and after the death of the individual
returned to God. Pomponatius, in his Dc Immortalitate
Animae, attacks the doctrine of the unity of souls, and after a
lengthy examination of the arguments of philosophers concludes
that the soul is mortal. Owing, however, to the distinction
which was then current between matters of faith and matters
of philosophy, a distinction which we find existing even in
Pascal's time, Pomponatius was able, in spite of this doctrine,
to continue on good terms with the Church (E. Eenan,
Averroes, 3rd ed. p. 322 et scq.).
Descartes: the Soul defined by Thought; its Separate Existence.
Descartes discovered in the very fact of doubt a funda-
mental truth : I who doubt, think ; I think, therefore I am ;
I may imagine that I have no body, but as long as I think
I still continue to exist. The idea of thought is therefore
distinct from the idea of extension, and my own thought
MIND 197
is the only thing which it is impossible for me to doubt.
I am res cogitans, that is to say, res dubitans, intelligens,
ajfirmans, negans, volens, nolens, imaginans quoque et sentiens
(2nd Meditation). The 2nd Meditation, however, only estab-
lishes an ideal distinction between mind and body : a distinction
which exists only for the thought which knows them by different
means. But is this distinction in abstraeto a real, concrete dis-
tinction ? This objection was made against Descartes after the
publication of his Discours de la Me'thode. It was argued that,
from the fact that the soul knows itself as a thinking thing, it
does not follow that the soul is nothing but a thought. Could
not extension be a property of soul, of which we are not aware ?
Descartes replies that, in the 2nd. Meditation, as in the
Discours de la Methode, he has postponed the question of the
real distinction. It is not till the 6th Meditation that he
attacks this problem. To ideas that are clear and distinctly
conceived, distinct realities correspond, because God cannot
deceive us, and His omnipotence can realize everything that
we conceive. Descartes had need of the divine veracity and
omnipotence in order to establish that every clear and distinct
idea must correspond to a distinct reality ; and this is why he
waits until the 6th Meditation to prove the real distinction
between the soul and the body. The 2nd Meditation proves
by the Cogito ergo sum, that thought is an ultimate notion ;
the 4th Meditation establishes the divine veracity and power;
the 6th Meditation concludes :
" Since, on the one hand, I have a clear and distinct idea of myself, in
so far as I am only a thinking and unextended thing, and as, on the other
hand, I possess a distinct idea of body, in so far as it is only an extended
and unthinking thing, it is certain that I, that is my mind, by which I
am what I am, is entirely and truly distinct from my body and may exist
without it" (6th Meditation).
Spinoza : The Soul of the World is the Idea of Extension ;
The Hitman Soul is the Idea of the Hitman Body.
One of Descartes' disciples, liegius (Leroy) had said to him :
Thought and extension are ultimate attributes, no doubt, but
why should not one and the same substance underlie two
different attributes? And this question contains the principle
of Spinoza's philosophy. " God, or substance, consisting of
198 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
infinite attributes, each one of which expresses eternal and
infinite essence, necessarily exists " (The Ethic, Part I, Prop. XI).
The great difficulty was to pass from this sole substance to
the finite beings revealed to us by our ordinary experience.
Spinoza seems to have sought for this transition from unity
to plurality, in what he calls the infinite and eternal modes.
That which results from the essence of a divine attribute, can
only be an eternal and infinite mode. The idea of God, for
instance, is an eternal and infinite mode, by which the
attribute of the divine Thought reveals itself : the idea of God
is the representation in thought of all the divine attributes.
Thought, being by nature representative, expresses all the
forms of Being. Therefore the idea of God embraces the idea
of extension and also that of thought, and these ideas are
eternal and infinite modes of the second degree.
Let us consider things in the same way, from the point of
view of extension. Motion and rest are eternal and infinite
modes of the first degree ; the fades totius universi is an
eternal and infinite mode of the second degree ; in other words,
it is deduced from a mode of the first degree (Letter t>>
L. Meyer). This aspect, this 'fades ' of the universe, though
varied by the infinity of its successive modes, remains the
same, because the proportion of rest to motion does not
change.
" If the parts composing an individual become greater or less, but in
such proportion that they all preserve the same mutual relations of motion
and rest, the individual will still preserve its original nature, and its
actuality will not be changed" (The Ethics, Part II, lemma V).
Corporeal individuality is defined as a system of related
parts. There is nothing to prevent several individuals from
fitting into one another and thereby forming a more complex
individuality. From this point of view, the whole world is
one immense individual : its body is all the modes corre-
sponding to the attribute of extension, deduced, however, from
those eternal and infinite modes which constitute their unity;
its soul is the idea of extension. The idea of extension
embraces the ideas of all the separate modes of extension.
Now, a soul for Spinoza is nothing else than the idea of a mode
of extension. The idea of extension therefore embraces all souls :
is, in fact, the universal soul (see CEuvres de Spinoza, trad.
MIND 199
Saisset, Introd. p. 86 ct seq.). But in Spinoza's system the
difficulty is not so much to attain unity as to account for the
many, to break up this unity into the multiple appearances.
We can, perhaps, conceive how it is that the eternal and infinite
modes of the first and second degree allow of a reconciliation
between the unity of the attributes, and consequently of
substance and the infinite succession of the given modes ; but
what is not at all clear is how we are to pass from those
eternal and infinite modes to the finite modes which vary the
facies totivs universi.
Spinoza deduces from his system a theory of the human
soul. Extension and thought are not, as Descartes supposed,
distinct substances, but ultimate attributes of one and the
same substance. The human soul is the idea of the human
body, as the soul of the world is the idea of extension. Thus
reduced to the idea of the body to which it belongs, the soul
does not exist, but is in a state of perpetual change like the
body itself. Its thoughts and actions follow each other
according to the affections of the body, and it is merely a
series of thoughts and volitions determined from without. The
soul is thus a sum, a totality, or rather a sequence that has no
real unity or identity. The individuality of the human soul is
only a reflection of the individuality of the human body, all of
whose parts are maintained in an unchanging relation by a
constant law. How is this theory of the soul to be reconciled
with the possibility of adequate knowledge, which is the raison
d 'itre of Spinoza's Ethics ? How is it that the soul which is defined
as the " idea of a body" can go beyond the individual, leave the
particular body, and possess the universe in contemplating
things under the form of eternity ? It is because the human
soul, although, on the one hand, only as it were a reflection of
the body, is, on the other hand, connected with God ; there is
in God an " idea of the soul," which is united to the soul, as
the soul, or " idea of the body," is united to the body (Eth
II, Prop. XXI).
Leibnitz : Theory of Monads ; the Pre-established Harmony
takes the place of the Soul of the World.
Descartes would not admit the existence of any soul
except the human soul ; Spinoza maintained the distinction
200 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
between thought and extension, and in his system there was,
if I may so speak, as much soul as extension. Leibnitz
reduces extension itself to soul ; so that his world consists of
nothing but an infinite number of souls which possess infinitely
various degrees of perfection. Leibnitz had, at first, adopted
the Cartesian mechanical theory, but, while seeking the
ultimate principles of the laws of motion, he was much
surprised to perceive that it was impossible to find these laws
in mathematics alone, and that it was necessary to return once
more to metaphysics (Erdm. 720). Moreover, matter is com-
pound, divisible, and hence pure multiplicity. But multiplicity
can derive reality only from real imits. " And there must be
simple substances, since there are compounds ; for a compound
is nothing but a collection or aggregation of simple things "
(Monad. 2, Latta's trans, p. 217).
From extension and matter, we are, therefore, brought back
to entirely immaterial units ; in other words, to the formal atoms,
atoms of substance, metaphysical points which differ from the
atoms of Epicurus in that they are unextended ; for extension
is only a phenomenon, and not, as the Cartesians taught, the
essence of bodies.
What constitutes the reality of these immaterial atoms is
force.
" Active force differs from the bare potency commonly recognized in
the Schools. For the active potency, or faculty of the Scholastics, is
nothing but a mere possibility of acting, which, nevertheless, requires
an outer excitation or stimulus, that it may be turned into activity.
But active force contains in itself a certain activity [actus], and is a mean
between the faculty of acting and action itself. It includes effort, and
thus passes into operation by itself, requiring no aids, but only the
removal of hindrance. This may be illustrated by the example of a
heavy hanging body stretching the rope which holds it up, or by that
of a drawn bow" (Erdmann's En. 122 b).
But can we not get beyond this merely external notion of
force ?
"Force, you say, we only know through its effects, and not as it is
in itself. My answer is, that this would be true, if we did not possess
a soul, and if we did not know our soul."
Our inner experience reveals to us an active, real force,
which is the only force we know, namely, our soul (Ibid.
MIND 201
185 b). We must, therefore, conceive the metaphysical atoms
after the image of our souls (Ibid. 124 a). Substances can
only be souls in the most general sense of the term. Their
unity is ultimately found to consist in perception and thought,
their force in tendency and appetition.
"Thus the world is not a machine as Descartes and Hobbes would
have it. Everything in it is force, soul, life, thought, desire ; what we
see is the machine, but we only see the outside of Being. Being is that
which itself sees " (Boutroux. ed. de la Monad.).
Perception explains both the unity of each monad, and the
infinite diversity of the monads. Perception involves multi-
plicity in unity. Perceptio nihil est quam multorum in uno
expressio (Erdm. 438). What do the monads perceive ? The
entire universe, but each from a point of view that is
peculiar to itself ; and it is its point of view that constitutes
the individual monad. There are degrees in perception : below
apperception, or conscious and distinct perception, there is
unconscious perception, and the two terms are joined by a
continuous series of stages. The degree of distinction in
perceptions constitutes the degree of perfection in the monads,
not one of which is identical with another (this is the principle
of indiscernibles). Since the monad is a created thing and
subject to change, and since its nature is perception, any
change in it can only be the transition from one perception
to another. Appetition is the effort made by the monad
to pass from one internal state to another. The law which
governs this effort is the law of final causes, to which con-
sequently the law of efficient causes is subordinate, since
material mechanism is ultimately found to be the expression
and symbol of this effort of the monads. As our will is
always directed towards the good, so the appetition of the
monad is an effort towards a more perfect internal state
than the preceding one ; in other words, it is a tendency
towards more distinct perceptions (Erdm. 700).
If there are nothing but souls, how are beings distinguished
from one another ? As we have said, by the differences of
these perceptions. There is an infinite number of degrees in
perceptions, and hence an infinite number of degrees in living
things (Ibid. 676). Leibnitz, however, distinguishes three
kinds : beings having merely life, animals, and men.
202 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
The merely living thing is the monad joined to an appropriate body.
Its perception is unconscious and both perish together. Omne corpus
mens est momentanea. The second degree is that of the monad endowed
with a more distinct perception, i.e. with feeling ; such a monad may be
called a soul ; when united to its proper body it is an animal. The third
degree is that of the soul endowed with reason and reflection, or minds
(spirits). The spirits are characterized by knowledge properly so-called,
by self-knowledge, by the possession of universal truths, and consequently,
the possibility of demonstrative knowledge.
The monads, being simple, cannot act upon one another.
How then can these beings which are not directly related, but
independent of one another, form a whole, or cosmos ? And
how, amidst this universal harmony, are the partial harmonies
to be explained? "Some moderns have not seen any objection
to this theory of a single and universal soul which absorbs all the
others. The doctrine of pre-established harmony is the most
effective way to remedy this evil" (ThSod,, Disc, de la Conform,
de la Raison et de la Foi, 10).
All the monads are in reciprocal agreement. All the acts
of any monad whatever are, in their infinite series, in relation
to all the acts of all the other monads. He who could open
out, as it were, the folds of a monad, would read therein the
history of the world : Bum Deus calculat jit mundus. In this
way the unity of the world is explained : each monad acts
spontaneously, on its own account, but out of all these inde-
pendent acts arises the universal harmony which was the
reason of its being. The law governing this harmony is the
Good, the subordination of that which is less good to what is
better. In this way the partial harmonies as well as the total
harmony become conceivable ; one monad is more perfect than
another in so far as in it is found that which serves to account
a priori for all that takes place in the other. All the monads
of the human body, for example, are independent, but in the
series of their acts they harmonize with the monad soul, and
this explains both the visible harmony of the human body and
its relations with thought.
*o
The Empiricists : Materialism of Hobbes ; Locke's indecision ;
Phenomenalism of Hume and Stuart Mill.
A development parallel with that of the Idealism which
began with Descartes, took place in the Empirical School
MIND 203
founded by Bacon. Hobbes was a bold and consistent)
Materialist. Like the Stoics, he identifies substance with
body : the spiritual is the non-existent, a mere abstraction ;
and all phenomena are reducible to movements, to changes of
position in space. There can be no causality except a mechani-
cal causality, and sensation is merely the motion of corporeal
parts produced by the external motion of things. The mind is a
body, all the phenomena of which can be reduced to motions.
" Spirits are tliin, aerial, invisible bodies. Spirit and incorporeal are
words of contradictory signification. If men give to God such a title {i.e.
the title of ' Spirit incorporeal ') it is piously to honour Him with attri-
butes of significations as remote as they can from the grossness of bodies
visible " (Leviathan, I, Ch. II).
Locke holds with Descartes that an inner feeling gives me
the consciousness of myself.
"Self is that conscious thinking thing, whatever substance made up of
(whether spiritual or material, simple or compounded, it matters not),
which is sensible or conscious of pleasure and pain, capable of happiness
or misery, and so is concerned for itself, as far as that consciousness
extends" (On the Human Understanding, II, xxvii, 17).
My Ego is characterized by consciousness and identity ; it
extends, in a way, as far as my memory. But what is the sub-
stance of the soul ? On this point Locke is very cautious.
No one has any idea of substance, but only the supposition of " he
knows not what support of such qualities which are capable of producing
simple ideas in us (Ch. 23, 2) . . . having no other idea or notion of
matter, but something wherein those many sensible qualities which affect
our senses do subsist ; by supposing a substance wherein thinking, know-
ing, doubting, and a power of moving, etc., do subsist, Ave have as clear a
notion of the substance of spirit as we have of body ; the one being
supposed to be (without knowing what it is) the substratum of those
simple ideas we have from without, and the other supposed (with a like
ignorance of what it is) to be the substratum of the operations we
experience it in ourselves within . . . and therefore, from our not having
any notion of the substance of spirit we can no more conclude its non-
existence than we can for the same reason deny the existence of body "
{Ibid. 5).
In each case we assume an x, an unknown quantity : and
hence, while, on the one hand, we have no reason to deny
the existence of spiritual substances, it is not impossible on the
204 THE PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
other hand that God has endowed matter with the faculty of
thought.
" We have the ideas of matter and thinking, but possibly shall never be
able to know whether any mere material being thinks or no ; it being
impossible for us, by the contemplation of our own ideas, without revela-
tion, to discover whether Omnipotency has not given to some systems of
matter, fitly disposed, a power to perceive and think, or else joined and
fixed to matter so disposed a thinking, immaterial substance " {Ibid. IV,
iii, 6).
Locke's Empiricism was carried to its ultimate logical con-
sequences by Hume. There must be always some impression
to give rise to a real idea, but there is no impression corre-
sponding to the idea of substance ; we have therefore no
knowledge of any substance, of bodies no more than of souls.
The Ego is neither simple nor identical, but merely an ever-
changing series, a complex collection of representations.
" If anyone, upon serious and unprejudiced reflection, thinks he has a
different notion of himself, I must confess I can reason no longer with
him" (Treatise of Human Nature, I, iv, 6).
And yet we commonly believe in the identity and simplicity
of the self. Whence arises this illusion ? Since each one of our
perceptions is distinct and separate from the others, how is it
that they are joined together in such a way as to give us the
idea of a self-identical Ego?. This subjective appearance is
explained by the laws of association. Images of our past
sensations are unceasingly being presented to us by memory.
These images form a chain ; and through habit our imagination
goes so rapidly from one link of this chain to another, that the
series of distinct elements, joined as it were end to end, finally
appears to us as a solid, continuous whole. Thus memory not
only reveals to us our identity, but takes part in its production.
The relation of cause and effect completes the work of determining
the notion of the Ego by binding together its elements. Impres-
sions give rise to ideas corresponding to them, and ideas in their
turn produce other impressions. Our mental states are thus
linked together according to the laws of a determinism by
which thought is led from one state to another. My present
pleasure or pain leads me to reflect on an action already done:
and, similarly, in forming a resolution in the present, I foresee
MIND 205
the future pleasure which I expect to derive from it. Thus
the law of causality gives to the Ego at once an extension and
a unity which it could not derive from memory alone.
" But having once acquired this notion of causation from the memory,,
we can extend the same chain of causes, and, consequently, the identity of
our persons, beyond our memory ; and can comprehend times, and circum-
stances, and actions, which we have entirely forgot, but suppose in general
to have existed. How few of our past actions are there of which we have
any memory ? Who can tell me, for instance, what were his thoughts and
actions on the 1st of January, 1715, the 11th of March, 1719, and the 3rd
of August, 1733 ? Or will he affirm, because he has entirely forgot the
incidents of those days, that the present self is not the same person with
the self of that time ; and by that means overturn all the most established
notions of personal identity ? In this view, therefore, memory does not
so much produce as discover personal identity by showing us the relation
of cause and effect among our different perceptions" (Ibid.).
Our belief in the real simplicity of the self is explained in
the same way as our belief in its rea 
