ETHICS OF SPINOZA
SPINOZA
A HANDBOOK TO THE ETHICS
BY
J. ALLANSON PICTON
NEW YOKE
E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY
1907
B
Edinburgh : T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
TO THE BRIGHT MEMORY OF
HERBERT AND ALICE MAUD RIX
NOW AND ALWAYS ONE IN THE ETERNAL LIFE
THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED
PEEFACE
THE aim of this work is practical; that is to say, I
have endeavoured to avoid discussing the philosophy
of Spinoza more than is absolutely necessary to an
understanding of his moral code. For ever since I
became a humble student of his works I have had a
growing impression that a rich vein of common-sense
and sound morality runs through all his speculations,
though it has often to be digged for as hidden treasure.
But the fashion of his writing was determined in large
measure by the customs of seventeenth-century philo
sophy, and he addressed himself only to those who were
familiar with them. The result is that in our time,
when the decay of old traditions makes a clearer view
of the foundation of morals a matter of supreme im
portance, we lose the immense benefit of his moral and
religious teaching because we are perplexed both by his
use of familiar words, such as ' God ' and ' eternity ' and
'mind' and 'body,' in senses to which we are not
accustomed; and we are also repelled by his artificial
method of so-called 'mathematical proof.' I have en
deavoured to relieve these difficulties by a plain
b vii
viii ETHICS OF SPINOZA
exposition which always keeps in view the moral and
religious, rather than the intellectual value of the great
Master's teaching. And to make the exposition clearer
I have not hesitated to introduce ' modern instances '
to show the concrete significance of apparently abstract
principles.
My indebtedness to the great and exhaustive treatise
of Sir Frederick Pollock on Spinoza, His Life and
Philosophy, can hardly be sufficiently acknowledged. But
I trust it is evident in the following pages. Still my
own experience suggests that, for those who are specially
interested in the religious evolution of our own day,
there is needed a ' Handbook to the Ethics ' which shall
keep that evolution specially in view. This I have
endeavoured to supply, measuring the wants of others
by my own needs.
As will be evident, I have continually compared my
own translations of Spinoza's Latin — (edition of Van
Vloten et Land) — with the admirable work of W. Hale
White and Amelia H. Stirling. I have ventured often
to differ from their rendering, and sometimes I have
preferred to paraphrase the original. But my debt of
obligation is the same.
PAGE
1
I ' £3 P» A F?
MAY 3 i 1910
CONTENTS
PART I. CONCERNING GOD
„ APPENDIX 39
PART II. THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND . . 50
PART III. THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 83
„ APPENDIX — DEFINITIONS OF THE MENTAL AFFEC
TIONS — INTRODUCTORY KEMARKS . . .10
PART IV. THE BONDAGE OF MAN 127
PART V. THE POWER OF THE INTELLECT ; OR, THE FREEDOM
OF MAN isi
CONCLUSION
. 241
PAET I
CONCERNING GOD
READERS of Spinoza often experience much greater diffi- Difficulties
culty than they ought to find in making out his meaning,
because they bring with them to the study of his writings
habits of thought entirely incongruous with his system. study3 in-
And this is especially the case with his ' Ethics/ For in SETS?8
his various tractates on somewhat more popular subjects, thousllt-
particularly in his Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, one of
the very few of his writings printed during his lifetime,
he so far condescended to the mental condition of his
contemporaries as to use no small amount of conventional
language. Thus readers who find him discussing pro- Not so
phecy and its confirmation by signs, or revelation and m theen
inspiration, feel at first quite at home, and only gradually ^ i^the8
discover that these terms must to him have had a very Etlncs-
different meaning from that familiar in ecclesiastical
circles. But with his opus magnum, the Ethics, the case
is entirely different. That he wrote for posterity is clear Reasons
from the fact that he withheld the work from publication f°
during his lifetime, though probably even he had no idea
of the remoteness of the posterity for whom he was The Ethics
writing. Perhaps it can hardly be said to have arrived
yet, notwithstanding the increasing interest shown during
the past half-century both in the man and his ideas. At
A
2 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
any rate in this work he quite abjured any such conces
sions to contemporary conventions of thought as are
found in his other writings, and gave uncompromising
utterance to the results of his solitary contemplations of
man and the universe.
influence of Not that even here he was wholly uninfluenced by his
anTtS times or their traditions. For no such miracle as an
Ethics1 the entirely new man in this sense has ever appeared — no,
mSn?e<to n°t even in the ages of transition from anthropoids to
matters of anthropopithecus and anthropos. But the traces of
tradition and convention in Spinoza's greatest work are
seen mainly in matters of form. Thus the idea of com
pressing the whole philosophy of the universe into five
E.g. the books of definitions, postulates, axioms, propositions and
of the10B demonstrations, arranged after the manner of Euclid,
Euclidean seemg utterly incongruous both with the physics and the
JnTdem^n- metaphysics of the twentieth century. In the seven-
stration. teenth century, however, though the plan was a little
startling to less daring minds, it did not seem impossible.
Reasons And the reason for this was two-fold. Firstly, the vast-
adoption, ness of the universe was not adequately felt ; and next,
the difference in precision between doctrines of ideal
space, on the one hand, and expressions of concrete ex
perience on the other, was not sufficiently apprehended.
Now if the universe, or at least a definite portion of the
universe, including man, is completely commensurable
with the human intellect, and if every impression re
ceived by that intellect from the accessible universe is
capable of as precise statement as our ideal notions of
space — such as point, line, superficies, square, circle, and
so on — there would seem to be no reason why a man of
CONCEKNING GOD 3
very exceptional philosophic genius might not reduce all
our relations with the world of being to a set of Euclidean
propositions. But such a notion of existence has become
impossible to us. And we are compelled to recognise, in
the form into which the Ethics was cast, the influence of
an age in which the general outlook on the world was, in
some important respects, entirely incongruous with that
of our own time.
There are other seventeenth-century conventions of other in
form which add to the difficulties of an average twentieth- seventeenth-
century reader. But the instance now given will suffi- convention
ciently illustrate my meaning for the present ; and other deferred-
cases will be better considered in their proper places.
All the more so, because we shall sometimes have to con
sider whether the difficulty of form does not also involve
a difficulty of substance. And here it may be well to
anticipate so far as to say that, while I regard Spinoza's
doctrine of God, Nature, and Man as in its essence per- Spinoza's
manent and inexpugnable, I must admit that some eternal)
details incidental to his treatment of that doctrine would s of
have been felt by him to be not only intolerable but im- his Phil°-
sophy may
possible, had he lived in the present age. These details have been
temporary.
however, now generally recognised as impossible, do not
occur in his moral system, which is singularly noble and
complete, but rather in the attempt to work out an
intellectual system of the universe from two alleged
' attributes ' of the Infinite, said to be the only ones known
to us out of an absolutely unlimited number.
From the above preliminary remarks it will be seen
that I regard the average reader's difficulty in under-
standing Spinoza's Ethics as arising partly from our in-
4 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
veterate habit of assuming that such terms as God,
Eternity, Good, Evil, and many others are used by him in
the sense which we have learned in Church or Sunday-
school to attach to them. But partly also the difficulty
is caused by the admittedly unfortunate form in which
the great work is cast, and also by the comparative
dispensing remoteness of seventeenth-century mental habits from
with the J
Euclidean our own. I propose, so far as I can, to meet these
form,
omitting difficulties by giving a precis of the Ethics dissociated
refinements „,—,,., .
of proof, from the Euclidean form and set forth in language which,
fug to7hPe if not metaphysically exact, may at least enable readers
of ordinary intelligence to grasp the common-sense con-
lce> victioiis forming the basis and main structure of Spinoza's
Title-page, religion. Here then is the title-page rendered from the
edition of Van Vloten and Land : ( Ethics, Proved on the
Geometrical Method, and divided into Five Parts ;
wherein is treated — I. Of God; II. Of Nature and the
Origin of Mind ; III. Of the Origin and Nature of the
Passions ; IV. Of Human Bondage, or of the Power of
the Passions ; V, Of the Might of the Intellect, or of
Human Freedom.'
Meaning of And first it may be observed that by ' Ethics ' Spinoza
meant much more than is usually understood by that
word. For whereas we generally mean by it the principles
of social duty as between man and man, individual or
I collective, Spinoza included in it the whole relations of
the individual to the universe of which he forms part.
It was therefore necessary for him to set forth, not only
his ideas of right and wrong as between members of the
human, family, but also the eternal nature and constitu
tion of the universe as conceived by him. Therefore he
CONCERNING GOD 5
begins with a book or section c concerning God.' And here
occurs the first and one of the chief difficulties of the
Ethics. For no one brought up on Paley, Clarke, or their Assump-
, . .. , , . 0 . . tion of the
successors and imitators, can make out what Spinoza is being of
driving at in his Eleventh Proposition of Book I., which God'
reads as follows : ' God, or substance (involving) 1 infinite
attributes of which every one expresses an eternal and
infinite essence, of necessity exists! And the main demon
stration does not help us, referring as it does to a previous
axiom and proposition belonging entirely to the realms of
abstract thought, and not of experience. But one of the Apparent
. Tii obscurity
alternative demonstrations does help us a little, because of the
... , , f . , argument
it rests in part at least on experience of our own exist- arriving
ence. Thus, ' either nothing exists, or a Being absolutely impression"
infinite exists of necessity. But ' (as a matter of fact)
' we exist, either in and by 2 ourselves, or in and by prove>
something else, which exists of necessity.' Here the
meaning flashes upon us. For Spinoza is not trying to
prove the existence of a personal Creator who called the
worlds out of nothing, and is now only the greatest Being
among innumerable others. What the Master means is
that thej:aj^j3fjm£j^
By <God>
The inference that this previous Being must be absolutely the < Uni-
infinite and of necessary existence may appear subtle. But V€
1 Constans in the original. But the literal rendering ' consisting
of,' or 'consisting in,' scarcely expresses the real meaning.
a The two prepositions seem needed to express the full sense of
Spinoza's in nobis, in alio.
3 The use of the words previous, past, future, etc., is practically
necessary in speaking of human experience. But such use must
always be understood subject to Spinoza's doctrine of eternity, as will
afterwards .appear.
6 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
it has common-sense at the back of it. ' The capacity
for non-existence is weakness, and, on the other hand,
the capacity for existence is power. If therefore what
now of necessity exists is nothing but finite beings, the
finite beings must be mightier than absolutely infinite
Being. But this is absurd.' Let us try to translate it
into contemporary modes of thought. The Infinite of
which Spinoza is thinking is not a divine Person, en
throned somewhere in space or in thought, apart from
the Universe, but the Universe itself. It is of this that
he alleges absolute infinity and necessary existence —
that is, existence uncaused, and without beginning or
end.
A modem- Surely we may now feel some force in the argument,
at least if we drop the subtleties about 'capacity for
ment!gu existence or non-existence.' For it is mere common-
sense to assume that a limited number of finite creatures
— men, beasts, birds, trees, planets, suns, and galaxies —
could not independently exist isled in infinite space from
The inde- eternity to eternity. For if once the notion of finite
and.1 eternal independent existence be allowed, no limit can be
of anything drawn beneath which such existence becomes unthink-
thhikabie.n" aMe. Tnus if tne independent and eternal existence of
a group of galaxies, measuring say a billion or a trillion
cubic miles in extent, be conceivable, then no reason can
be given why the independent and eternal existence of a
group of galaxies measuring only a million cubic miles
should be unthinkable. Nor, so far as conceivability is
concerned, can we stop there. But there would be no
reason why a universe measuring only a hundred cubic
miles should not be conceivable as having independent
CONCERNING GOD 7
and external existence. And so we might come down to For if it
a single stone, and reasonably maintain that, if a finite Singie stone
. i A might have
universe on any scale be thinkable as having uncaused, such exist.
independent existence from eternity to eternity, then a ence>
single stone might be capable of it.
According to ordinary, or, using the word in no
offensive sense, vulgar modes of thought, the difficulty
is removed by making the finite universe to depend on
an Infinite Cause. But this of course admits Spinoza's The^^
argument, that finite existence implies Infinite Being, practically
L admitted in
It is only the application that is different ; and as I am ordinary
. , , T modes of
merely trying to expound fSpmoza, I do not see tnat 1 thought.
have, in this place at any rate, anything to do with that
application. It is enough just now to recognise that by
common consent our philosopher's argument is endorsed,
that 'either nothing exists or else absolutely infinite
Being exists of necessity.' This last phrase ' of necessity ' Meamng_of
(necessario) must of course not be taken to mean any here,
compelling cause, in the usual sense of the word.
Spinoza quite agrees with the humblest Christian that
God is uncaused, or, as he sometimes puts it, His own
cause. In other words, God is because He is, and
there, so far as we are concerned, is an end of the
matter.
Now having noted the common consent of humanity Spinoza's
application
to Spinoza's argument, when rightly understood, and of the
... ,, common
having disowned any obligation to criticise here trie conviction,
application usually made by theologians, I go on to deal
with Spinoza's own application of it. How should we
think of this ' absolutely infinite Being ' who is because
He is ? The late Herbert Spencer was content to regard
8 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Him as unknowable, and in this I have elsewhere l main
tained he was quite right, if we confine ourselves to
Spencer's phrase ' in the strict sense of knowing.' But
^P*noza tnought otherwise; and undoubtedly he was a
and transcendently greater man than Spencer. Let us learn
Spencer's.
then what that mighty seer of the seventeenth century
thought we could know; and hereafter let us note in
what respects his thought must be inevitably modified
by the age of enormously developed telescopes, micro
scopes, and transcendental mathematics in which Spencer
lived.
atwbutes Spinoza, then, was sure that as our own finite existence
and modes, implies Infinite and Eternal Being, we must think of
this latter as substance involving infinite attributes, of
which each several attribute expresses His infinite and
Spinoza's essential nature. ' Substance ' he has already defined as
idea of *
'substance. ''that which is in (and by) itself, and is conceived through
itself alone ; otherwise, that of which the conception does
not need any other conception from which it has to be
shaped.' Now at first sight there might appear to be a
difficulty here. For, at least to common-sense, a simple
c°l°ur such as blue or red does not need the help of any
thing else to clear up or define our sense of it. In fact,
it cannot be defined except by methods of optical science
which have no bearing whatever on our conscious im
pression. There is no relation realisable in consciousness
between the alleged scientific fact that blue light means
some seven hundred billion etherial vibrations in a
second, and our perception of blue. No ; but at the same
time we all recognise blue as a quality of something,
1 Religion of the Universe, Macmillan and Co.
CONCEKHING GOB 9
though that something may, as in the case of the blue
sky or Mediterranean water, remain unknown to the
majority of those on whom the impression of colour is
made. Still, though the observer may not know to what
the quality belongs, he is sure that it is a quality, and
not a substance. Whether the colour be in the observer
himself (subjective) or in the external world (objective),
in any case it is a quality and not a substance.
Eeturning to Spinoza's definition of substance, I find Really
it much more akin to Spencer's idea of the Unknowable to Spencer's
than orthodox Spinozists would be prepared to allow. Se.n°W"
For after all, the definition is and must be reached, in
the case of ordinary people, by a process of larger and
larger generalisations, such as Spencer gives us in his
First Principles.1 These generalisations are thus summed
up in the concluding words of the chapter on the
relativity of all knowledge (p. 83): <0n watching our
thoughts we have seen how impossible it is to get rid
of the consciousness of an Actuality lying behind Ap
pearances ; and how from this impossibility results our
indestructible belief in that Actuality.' Happily, Spinoza
does not speak of God as lying behind appearances.
Otherwise Spencer's 'Actuality' and Spinoza's 'Sub
stance' are obviously the same thing under different
names. Nor is this identity in the least disproved by
the different methods of the two philosophers in ap
proaching the ultimate reality. For though Spinoza, in The differ-
his abstract way, thinks it enough to say curtly that formal and
Substance — or ultimate Actuality — is that which is in not realt
(and by) itself, and is conceived through itself, or does
1 P. 81, sixth edition.
10 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
not need the conception of any other thing from which
it has to be shaped ; yet, as I have said, by ordinary
mortals who have not the brains of a Spinoza, such a
conception— so far as it is a conception at all— can only
be reached by increasing circles of generalisation that
Spinoza's widen out to infinity. Thus all things that make sensible
definition impressions on us are summed up as ' matter.' But this
oTglnius; matter is not thought or conceived without the help of
Spencer's' somethino- else not classed as matter, as for instance con-
generalisa
tions the sciousness, or thought of weight and mass. Similarly,
method of . ,
common- consciousness or thought as a general expression is tne
sense. . . f
last expanding circle of a series of generalisations Irom
But neither individual acts of thought But the finally generalised
Stefnor conception of thought or consciousness does not and
generalised cannot answer to Spinoza's definition of Substance as
SpiSs*0 tnat tne conception of which does not need to be helped
Siibstance°f by the conception of anything else. For it could not be
conceived at all except by the help of the innumerable
impressions from without, which have evolved the in
dividual mind and suggested the generalisation supposed
to include the experience of all other minds. Neither
matter then, nor mind — however we may interpret the
words — is Substance, according to the definition of
Spinoza. /
But what relation have the two series of material and
mental generalisations to each other ? Are they utterly
distinct, alien, and foreign to each other ? There have
Spinoza's been philosophers who have thought so. But Spinoza
was not of them, neither was Spencer; and each suc-
cessive generation of thinkers seems on the whole to
become more intolerant of so grotesque a doctrine. We
CONCEENING GOD 11
need not therefore dwell upon it. But if these two
series of generalised conceptions are not alien to one
another, the only conclusion possible is that they merge
in some unity of which each is a various expression.
IsTow that final unity is Spencer's ultimate Actuality,
and it is also Spinoza's Substance.
But there is a very marked difference between the
greater philosopher and the less as to the intelligibility
of this ultimate ' Actuality.' For while Spinoza, in the
serene confidence of his cloudless contemplations, is
perfectly certain that he has an adequate idea of Sub- Apparent
contradic-
stance, Spencer's ultimate Actuality is, for the later tion
philosopher, identical with that Unknowable, which ' no
man hath seen nor can see.' Surely here is an absolute
contradiction entailing the consequence that either these
great thinkers must both be wrong, or one of them right
and the other mistaken.
Yet the contradiction is not so absolute, nor is the not so real
. T^, . i . , , as it looks.
consequence so inevitable as it looks. 1 or in the ideal
world, with which Spinoza mostly deals until he comes Spinoza
to treat of human nature, his definition of Substance is real in the
quite as clear as Euclid's definition of a point, a line, or a l
circle. Modern innovators are needlessly officious in
assuring us that neither point nor line, according to
Euclid's definition, has any existence in the external or
finite world, and that to the circle only a rough approxi
mation can be obtained. But for all that Euclid's con
ceptions of ideal space remain certain and impregnable.
Moreover, they remain the spiritual principles which as Euclid.
are ' clothed upon ' by more materialistic geometry and
mensuration.
12 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Somewhat in the same way, Spinoza, contemplating
Eternal Being, of which space or extension seemed to
him only one attribute out of innumerable others, gives
The de- a definition of Substance which in the world of ideas is
Substance obviously true, though when we grope after it in the
f sense we never find it. Yet though we never
Euclid's ^n(^ ^ so as ^° SrasP it wikh the hands or behold it with
definitions the eyes or realise it with the practical understanding,
are true.
still amongst the spiritual principles which evolve an
intelligible universe, Spinoza's definition of substance
must ever remain impregnable. For substance is surely
that beyond which we cannot go in thought, which can
be referred to no wider genus, which requires the help of
no other conception to frame our thought of it, because
it is in and by itself, and includes everything by which
we would explain it. Intellectually, ideally, it is per
fectly plain. Only when we ask where it is in the work-
a-day world do we get no answer except this, that it is
everywhere and nowhere. Not that by the last word we
need admit any unreality. But obviously that which is
all in all cannot be in a particular spot. It is the whole
Universe.
NO real We need not therefore admit any real contradiction
between Spencer's ultimate Actuality and Spinoza's
Substance. At the same time we are bound to acknow
ledge some obvious differences, and these are not in favour
of the more modern philosopher. For while Spencer
perpetually speaks of the ultimate Actuality as being
1 behind ' the things we see and feel, Spinoza treats his
Substance as an infinite Whole, of which the seen and
felt Universe presents us with an infinite number of
CONCERNING GOD 13
finite aspects. Again, the special purpose of Spencer
to deal only with phenomenal evolution compelled him
to clear out of his course at the outset certain ultimate
questions with which he did not intend to concern him
self, thus giving the unfortunate and unjust l impression Spencer
0 misuuder-
that for him the Unknowable was something outside stood.
the practical world and, in fact, negligible. For Spinoza,
on the contrary, Eternal Substance was the beginning, Spinoza the
middle, and end of his whole religion and morality. It dealing
was never absent from his thoughts, contemplations, things.
aspirations, or moral struggles. It gave meaning, reality,
order, and peace to life. It could not, indeed, solve the
enigmas that have baffled saint and seer alike. But it
could impose upon him a humble sense of the 'inadequate
ideas ' which perplex any man who takes a part for the
whole, or judges a picture by some obscure spot in it on
which his inquisitive eyeglass is fixed.
We approach more popular notions of reality when we
turn to consider Spinoza's doctrine of Attributes. For, Attributes
as we have seen, in Spinoza's view God is absolute Sub- stance.
stance, that is, Substance endowed with infinite Attributes
of which each one expresses eternal and infinite being
(essentiam). Now it is precisely here that both Spencer's
ultimate Actuality and Spinoza's Substance come within
our ken by presenting phenomena. ' By an attribute,' in what
says the latter, ' I understand that which the understand- express
ing perceives as constituting its essence ' (i.e. of substance).
1 Unjust to himself, because he thought nothing of the kind ; as is
abundantly shown in his chapter on ' Reconciliation,' and also in
every case where he has to deal with the notion that man can ever
dispense with religion, or that any object of religion can be substi
tuted for that which is 'behind humanity and behind all other things.'
14
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
illustrated
by exten
sion.
Measure
ments of
extension
alwa
veri
vays
rifiable.
There is a difficulty in these last words ; but I do not
think I can be far wrong in suggesting that what Spinoza
means by ' constituting its essence ' or being, is practically
equivalent to constituting its reality as apprehended by
us. Now by 'reality' is not meant here that beyond
which we cannot go in thought, but that which remains
through all phenomenal changes, and of which our care
ful observations with their legitimate inferences are
always verifiable.
For instance, Spinoza regards extension as an attribute
of the divine Substance.1 That is to say, it expresses or
makes cognisable to us His eternal and infinite essence.
On this ground many have hastily accused Spinoza of
gross materialism. But, as Sir Frederick Pollock has
shown, his error, say rather his difference from the
inevitable tendency of opinion in later days, is of a very
different character, as we shall presently see. Meantime
let us only note that Extension expresses for us the
infinite essence or reality of God because it remains amid
all phenomenal changes ; and our careful observations of
it, whether to our experience subjective or objective,
together with our legitimate inferences from those careful
observations, are always verifiable. Thus the triangula-
tion of a country by an accurate surveyor can always be
verified again though the superficies (phenomena) of the
country may have greatly changed. Rivers may have
altered their course, volcanoes may have subsided, and
lakes may have been dried up. But nevertheless a suffi-
1 A good deal of what immediately follows is an anticipation of
Book II., Of the Nature and Origin oj Mind. But the transposition
seems needful for the purpose I have in view.
CONCEKNING GOD 15
ciently skilled person will have little or no difficulty in
verifying the measurements and area found by the
previous accurate survey. For though modifications of
extension, such as heights and depths and shapes, may
have changed, the extension itself is still there — it is a
reality. Similarly of ideal space we may say that careful And the
mental observations and the legitimate inferences there- ideal space
from are always verifiable. The skilled surveyor's measure-
rnents by triangulation assume always that the three
angles of every triangle are equal to two right angles.
And any one who wants verification can have it, either
roughly and imperfectly by the use of instruments applied
to visible and tangible triangles, or purely and perfectly
by mathematical demonstration dealing with ideal space.
Such is the ' Extension ' which Spinoza treats as one of
the infinite attributes of God. But being infinite, it is
not measurable1 in miles or feet or inches. And if it
occurs to the reader that we have just now been illustrat
ing its reality by the possibility of verification through
measurement, the reply is that Spinoza regards the infinity Of
infinite attributes of God as subject to an infinity Ofextension
finite modes or modifications. It is only these finite
modifications that can be measured. But still the unfail
ing possibility of verification proves reality. And if it
be asked, then why call extension infinite ? I might be
content with replying that I am but expounding Spinoza;
though not always as a ' Spinozist.' Yet on this point it
may be urged that if once the idea of extension arises,
the non-existence of any possible limit follows as a
matter of course. For however a man may try to think
1 I.e. in itself. It is only its finite modes that are measurable.
16
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
subject to
form,
motion,
colour,
sound,
weight.
of space as bounded, the question what is outside the
bound necessarily arises, and the inevitable answer is
space.
thfit
And thouh this
e^ensign^ij an object of experience.
fact does not in the least degree invalidate the connection
of the idea of extension with unlimited (or infinite) space,
it forms practically the whole content of our cognition of
God's attribute of extension. For everything that we see
or feel, whether on earth or in the heavens, is a finite
mode or modification of that divine attribute of extension.
So likewise is inotion, as it is a transference of something
through extension or space. It is only by this inclusion
of motion in the * modes ' of extension that we can con
ceive how Spinoza brought the whole so-called ' material'
universe within the attribute of extension. For colour
an(j goun(j an(j scent and feeling are not obviously modes
of extension. But conceive them as modes of motion,
which is the general theory in our day, and their inclu-
sion becomes simple. Nay, even weight, whether realised
as a pull or as a pressure, may be conceived as motion
striving to realise itself, and so falls under the same
attribute of extension. I am not urging the importance
of such subtleties, because it will be seen presently they
vanish in the more spiritual air of Spinoza's higher
philosophy. But there is some profit in trying to see the
' material ' world as he saw it,1 For to his contemplative
1 Tennyson, in his Higher Pantheism, has to a certain extent set
forth this vision for us, as only a poet can. But Spinoza did not
insist upon illusion as Tennyson, in this poem, does. The former
thought that he saw the world as it is, and not as ' a straight staff
bent in a pool.'
CONCERNING GOD 17
spirit everything in what we call the external world,
including our own bodies, was a mode of God's attribute Spinoza's
n i • -i i • m°de of
ot extension. Sun, moon and stars, mountain and plain, conceiving
river and ocean, forest and flower, bird and beast, storm and tang-
and thunder, as well as rainbow, all were modes of the l
one aspect or attribute of eternal God. They were always
changing because finite modes are necessarily variable
at least to finite apprehension. But however they might
be transformed and interchanged, they remained for ever
in all their apparently successive forms, the finite modes
of one eternal attribute of God.
According to our teacher, this infinite attribute of The Attri-
. butes in-
extension is only one out of innumerable Attributes, all numerable,
of them expressing some aspect of God's eternal and two cognis-
infinite essence, or reality. But of these Attributes, a
only two are cognisable by the human intellect. With
one of these we have already dealt, that of Extension, and
the one remaining to be considered is that of Thought
(cogitatio). It is clear that by this he cannot mean The second
discursive thought. For one of the fundamental elements
of his system is the superiority of God to time or dura
tion, and consequently to succession in thought. He
seems to have used the word in Descartes' sense of
what we may call ' awareness.' Of everything that passes
within our conscious selves we have a perception. But
whether the object of the perception be a sense-impres- its signifi-
. . . eance here
sion, a train or reasoning, an imagination, or a passion,
it is included by Descartes under cogitatio, or thought ;
and Spinoza followed him.
Perhaps it might occur to beginners in Spinoza-study more than
that * consciousness ' would be a better word. But, to ness!' CK
18
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
because
God is all
that He
thinks.
say nothing of the difficulty of finding in Latin an exact
equivalent for what Spinoza meant, or what we now
mean by consciousness, such a word is too finite in its
connotation to have served the purpose. For undoubtedly
consciousness means the feeling by which a creature,
aware of itself, recognises a practical (or phenomenal)
difference between itself and its sustaining medium, as
even an oyster in some sort must, when it opens its
shell for the inflow of nutriment and closes it against
attack. But such consciousness as this cannot thinkably
be an attribute of God, because, according to Pantheism,
there can be nothing outside Himself, and we cannot
therefore legitimately conceive Him as distinguishing
Himself from other being. The same objection is not
applicable to the word ' thought ' (cogitatio) in the sense
given it by Descartes. For all that it necessarily
signifies is that, just as the infinite Substance, God, has
an infinite Attribute of Extension, so He has an infinite
Attribute or aspect of Thought, which we may venture
to describe as self-awareness. And of course this self-
awareness includes in an infinite unity everything in
existence, from the Milky Way to man, beast, plant and
bacterium.
Thought as This attribute of Thought equally with Extension ex-
the divine presses the eternal and infinite essence (or reality) of
God. And, as in the case of the other Attribute, the
essence or reality it expresses means to us the possibility
of verifying the results of careful observation. This is
not Spinoza's teaching. For to him direct intuition of
eternal truth is the only verification worth having.
But different generations have their different forms of
CONCEKNHSTG GOD 19
thought. And though I am a devout believer in the
Master's doctrine of intuition, yet, as he allows other
methods of approaching reality,1 it helps and does not
hinder our understanding of him if we take a test of
reality applicable to all modes of knowledge. For the
intuition taught by him need not form any exception ; verifiable
because it is its own verification. In the case of Thought, tw™ u
then, as in that of Extension, the reality it expresses
can always be verified. As to the finite mode of infinite
Thought constituting our own mind, indeed, intuition is
the only possible verification ; but it is manifestly suf
ficient. Cogito, ergo sum. It is the prime fact of experi
ence, and, whenever we choose to reflect, it is always there.
But it may well be said that only the fact of finite
thought is verified thus, and not that of infinite Thought. Not neces-
Yet this is not conclusive. For according to a line of confined
argument adopted in recent times by an increasing thought.
number of high authorities, and likely to be permanent,
the intuition of finite Thought necessarily involves in
finite and eternal Thought. Thus, by no effort of any
faculty we possess, nor by any method, whether of
c victorious analysis/ induction or deduction, can we
make thinkable the existence of finite Thought except
as a ' mode ' of Eternal Thought. It was this im
possibility which forced the brilliant and candid Pro
fessor Clifford to suggest that every ultimate ' atom ' of Professor
Clifford on
matter was endowed with elementary consciousness or 'mind-
' mind- stuff. ' 2 For he frankly recognised that if such
1 Ethices, Pars, ii., Prop, xl., Schol. 2.
2 I do not mean that Clifford made the same application of his
suggestion that I am doing.
20
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
The finite
mode in
volves the
infinite
attribute.
Not that
the human
conscious
ness in
volves the
being of an
infinite
human con'
sciousness.
an attribute, as distinct from what we call 'physical'
qualities, were not inherent in 'matter/ no conceivable
combination, arrangement, or interplay of 'molecular
vibrations' could ever have evolved consciousness. Ex
cluding then the hypothesis of creation out of nothing,
the unthinkableness of which is here assumed through
out, surely this inference of universal 'mind-stuff' from
the present existence of consciousness endorses what has
been said above, that the intuition of finite thought
necessarily involves infinite and eternal Thought. But
if the two ideas are inseparable, the verification of the
one carries with it the verification of the other, And
thus every time that we assure ourselves of our own
conscious existence, we assure ourselves also of an in
finite Thought, of which we are ' modes,' or as Coleridge
had it, ' parts and proportions.'
It ought not to be necessary to guard against mis
understanding here. For, of course, I do not mean that
the consciousness of manhood involves an infinite man
hood. For the whole development of manhood in its
conventional divisions into ' body ' and ' soul ' can now
be traced with a fair approximation to completeness.
And we know that mankind have been evolved out of
some sort of anthropoid ape through stages suggested
by the imperfect skeleton of the ' anthropopithecus ' of
Java. But that there ever was a time when there was
no 'mind-stuff' is not only unproved, but, as Professor
Clifford saw, unthinkable. While, therefore, I am far
from reckoning that distinguished man as a ' Spinozist/
I do maintain that he confirmed Spinoza's view of
Thought as an attribute of the Universe. Of course the
CONCERNING GOD 21
word used is imperfect, an expression, as Matthew
Arnold used to say, ' thrown out ' at an idea too vast
for expression. But at least we may say this much :
Clifford's 'mind-stuff was diffused and omnipresent But the
. i • i /» T i omnipres-
throughout a universe to which, so far as I know, he ence of
assigned no bounds. Summing up, then, that omni- stuff' "
present and infinite ' mind-stuff/ we have practically thf the
Spinoza's infinite eternal Thought as an attribute of t
divine Substance or God. In other words, the Universe of ltself*
must be somehow aware of itself.
Another prevalent conviction of modern thinkers may Modem
insistence
be adduced as giving some confirmation to the foregoing, that there
can be no
For the notion that there can be anywhere an object object
, . , .... f without
; without a subject to be aware of it is, so far as my subject.
: reading goes, entirely repudiated by all thinkers outside
i the rapidly diminishing school of molecular mechanists.
jBy which latter description I mean those who still
cling to the theory that the whole Universe, with its
life and feeling, can be explained by a chance-begotten
arrangement of dead atoms. Outside this ancient and
dying sect, there is a general recognition that when
we look at anything such as sun or moon or tree or
flower, we — or the God in us — in some measure make
what we see. And what jwould Jbe left of thjBj>bject,
if we could deduct what we do not make, no one has
yet been wise enough to tell us.
Common-sense, in its rough way, endorses the maxim
that ' we see in things what we bring to them.' But Seeing in
things what
to what extent this is true neither common-sense nor we bring
to them.
philosophy has been able to decide. That to a man
colour-blind, to a short-sighted man, and to a man of
22 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
normal vision, a tree must needs be a very different object,
every one owns. But how much its greenery, its grace,
the interest of its tracery, and the music of its murmur
owe to the subjectivity, or — sacrificing accuracy to plain
ness, let us say — to the mental constitution of the
normal man, we really do not know. But this at least
is certain, that his view of the tree includes a good
deal that is not in the tree but in himself, as for
instance, colour, grace, and interest. Doubtless there
must be something which stimulates such perceptions
in the observer, but that this something is anything
like what he perceives is not only improbable but
impossible. I must not be misunderstood as insinuat
ing that the observer is the subject of illusion. Not at
all. He is the subject of reality and sees reality. But
then the reality is not something outside and separate
from him; it is the relation between the mode of
divine Thought constituting his mind and the mode
of divine Extension constituting the tree. Take away
the mode of thought, and the mode of extension would
be — we know not what, but certainly not a tree as we
conceive it.
But modern metaphysicians go farther than this, and
with much reason. They are not content with divesting
still further the thing seen of all that we manifestly bring to it. They
without say that the residual object is still a thing thought of,
subject8 an(i except as a thing thought of can have no existence.
This of course does not mean that the object has no
existence except as we think of it. But it does mean
that a thing which is an object of no thought at all, has
no existence. And whether we agree with them or not,
CONCEBNING GOD 23
it is surely very difficult to draw the line between those
qualities which, as common-sense allows, are brought to
an observed object by thought, and those which may be
supposed to have an independent existence. For, put it
how we may, the residual, uncoloured, unscented, un
sentimental thing is still realised only in thought. Take
thought away altogether, and is there anything left ? A
permanent possibility of stimulating thought perhaps?
But is not that something thought of? And what
becomes of it if not thought of at all by any thinking
being ?
I need not labour the point farther. Its only bearing
on my purpose is the illustration it affords of a certain Sole impor-
, tancehere
tendency among thinking people to recur to Spinoza s as an iiius-
philosophy, not indeed in the letter but in the spirit, recurrence
From the letter, as we shall presently see, we are com
pelled to diverge widely. But in the recognition that
there can be no object without subject, or, in other words,
that the existence of finite thought implies infinite
thought as an eternal attribute to the Universe or God,
there is a very marked recurrence to the spirit of the
' Ethics.' This does not mean that the finite thought is
the object of the Infinite thought, but that the finite
thought is a mode of Infinite Thought.
But against one error in interpretation we must very NO idea
j carefully guard if we would understand Spinoza. We scendence '
are not to suppose that God has any other Self than the in pln
Universe ; for that would be to imagine Him as having a
self other than Himself. I am well aware that many
who are partly attracted by Spinoza desire to reconcile
his teaching with theological tradition by insisting on a
24 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
transcendence as well as an immanence of God. This is
not the place to argue the question; all I say here is
that, if we are to understand the Master at all, we must
not carry that notion with us into the study of his
works.
The infinite attribute of Thought then, or self-awareness,
Thought equally with the attribute of Extension, expresses the
co-ordinate r
with that of eternal and infinite being (essentia) or reality of God.
extension
and infinite And here again we must be on our guard against the
others. ......
insidious intrusion ot notions about phenomena dis
tinguishable from ' things in themselves,' notions against
which Herbert Spencer — though I cannot believe he
held them himself — did not sufficiently guard his readers.
But none Spinoza cherished no such superstition. The ' Attributes,'
separated according to him, are not to be regarded as distinct from
from the .
divine the substance any more than the various aspects of a
lce' flashing diamond can be separated from the diamond
itself. They are the diamond and express its reality,
though doubtless there are other aspects of crystallised
carbon incognisable to our senses, yet equally expressing
its reality. Just so in the view of Spinoza Extension
is one aspect of the divine Substance, and Thought is
another. But they are not qualities or powers added on
to its essence. They are its essence as seen by con
templation in one or the other aspect. And as they are
not qualities added on to the divine Substance, so neither
nor from are they to be regarded as independent of each other, or
each other. . " ,L. *•.•"" -n mi
as distinct entities or as entities at all. They are in
separable as they are infinite. For wherever there is
Extension there is divine Thought, and wherever there
is divine Thought there is Extension. Thus if the
CONCEENING GOD 25
Universe, in one aspect of it, is a measureless network of
flaming orbs and planets, it is so because God so thinks
it. And if the thought of the glorious vision implies
illimitable space, it is so because Extension is an
inseparable concomitant of the divine Thought.
Further, Spinoza teaches that besides these Attributes
there are innumerable others, each of them infinite, each immmer-
subject to innumerable modes, and each expressing the attributes
infinite reality of God. But they express that reality Sffito8"
(for God Himself, or for creatures other than ourselves, m
Ibecause they are incognisable to us. What then is their
fplace in a rational system ? Confining ourselves to
Spinoza, there can be no difficulty in answering this
question. For the assumption is necessary to a very Need for
important article in his creed, and that is the funda- Spinoza's
mental, incommensurable difference between eternity ^
and time. For him eternity is not infinite duration, and ;
in fact has nothing whatever to do with duration.
Eternity is, if we may so speak, an infinite moment, the
lifetime of infinite Thought, without past or future.
And if in our view the manifestations of the Eternal
' change from glory to glory,' that is because of our
finiteness which cannot at one glance comprehend Him
as He is. But in His essence He is now all that can be. God is now
There can be no addition and no diminution. Now if can be.
that is so, it is obvious that the essence of the Eternal
must be expressible in an infinite variety of ways. Thus,
for 'Spinoza it was impossible to suppose the Attributes
expressive of the reality of the divine Substance to
confined to two. On the contrary, those Attributes must o
be innumerable, that is, if the expression be allowed,
26
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
infinite in number. Further, every one of such incog-
nisable attributes must be, like Extension and Thought,
riot something separable in any sense from the divine
Substance, but, to adopt Sir Frederick Pollock's word, an
aspect of it. And like Extension and Thought they
must be all so correlated that, if it were possible to
bring within our cognisance fifty or a hundred or a
thousand of them, the multiplication would only deepen
our sense of the divine unity, beside which unity there is
indeed no other that is real.
It is necessary now to pay particular attention l to the
very important and incisive criticism made by Sir
Frederick Pollock on Spinoza's treatment of the attributes
of Extension and Thought. ' It is to be observed that
inasmuch as Attribute is defined by reference to intellect,2
and Thought itself is an Attribute, Thought appears to
be in a manner counted twice over.' That is to say,
twice over. Thought is treated in the definition as necessary to the
very existence of extension, because Extension is what is
4 perceived.' But then again Thought is regarded as an
Attribute entirely distinct and independent. In making
Extension the object of a perceiving subject Spinoza
was in accord with the modern tendencies of thought
mentioned above. But it is difficult to understand why
Superfluity he should think it necessary to give a separate and in-
of any other
Attributes dependent existence to the Attribute of Extension when,
Thought, by his definition of Attribute, he makes Extension
necessarily something perceived, or, in other words, a
1 See p. 14 ante, and Pollock's Spinoza, pp. 153 and 164.
2 Ethices, Pars, i., Def. iv. 'By an attribute I understand that
which the intellect (thought) perceives concerning Substance, as
constituting the essence (reality) of the latter.'
Sir
Frederick
Pollock's
criticism.
Thought
counted
CONCEKNING GOD 27
mode of thought. ' Hence,' says Sir Frederick Pollock,
' all Attributes except Thought are really superfluous :
and Spinoza's doctrine when thus reduced to its simplest
terms is that nothing exists but thought and its modifi
cations.'
^Nevertheless, with all the deference due to so high an Some
authority, I think the criticism is here carried too far.
Sir Frederick says indeed that ' it does not affect the cr
substantial and working value of Spinoza's metaphysic.'
Yet it is an essential article in Spinoza's creed that
everything within the infinite possibilities of existence
does actually exist. It is so essential that — as I hope
will be seen farther on — without it the whole system
collapses like St. Mark's Campanile through disharmony
of internal strains. But if everything that can exist
does exist, it is surely venturesome to say that all possi
bilities of existence are limited to forms of thought. We
do not indeed know what else there can be. But it
would be presumptuous to limit possibilities of existence 1 The infinity
of existence
to our capacity of conception. The more consistent involves the
course would seem to be to allow that Spinoza does Attributes.
appear to have set up two Attributes where only one was
necessary, but at the same time to allow that God may
have infinite other Attributes incognisable to us. Whether
it is worth while to follow that great master in such a
1 Sir Frederick Pollock having been good enough to read the few
lines here referring to his comment on this part of Spinoza's system,
makes on the above sentence the following remark, which with his
permission I quote : ' Otherwise, whatever exists, exists because and so
far as it can. The current use of " can " and " possible " means that we
don't know all the conditions. But the question remains, what do we
mean by existence ? '
28 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
fashion is a point that cannot fairly be decided until we
have completed our study of him, and have seen how on
this foundation rests the heaven-high tower of contem
plation and peace and purity which he built for all the
ages.
Meantime it is sufficient to define the position we
assume. We accept his doctrine of Substance. We
regard it as Being. It is knowable to us through one
Attribute of Thought. This is not something added to
or distinguishable from Being. But it expresses to our
intellect the essence or reality of substance or God. At
the same time we provisionally follow the Master in
holding that the divine Substance, Being, or God has
infinite other Attributes or aspects which remain incog-
nisable l to us.
Reasons for Of the rest of the First Book of the Etliica my purpose
tionievia" ^oes no^ re(luire me to give any detailed account. Of
course, for those who wish to attain an approximately
complete comprehension of Spinoza's philosophy of the
Universe, a minute and careful study of every word is
needful. For of him perhaps more truly than of any
man who ever wrote, except perhaps Tacitus, it may be
said that he never used an unnecessary word. But as
1 ' ' Yes, but not to all capacity or intelligence. The idealist position
is that unknowable reality (not merely unknowable to any particular
kind of finite perception and intelligence) is a contradiction in terms.
I have always disclaimed believing in systems as distinct from method,
and should disclaim it more strongly now than twenty -five years ago."
For this comment I am also indebted to Sir Frederick Pollock under
the circumstances mentioned above. I am content ; for the method
of Spinoza is more important to me than his system. And I am sure
that his method leads inevitably to that identity of God and the
Universe which is the ultimate goal, as it was, in a sense, the starting-
point of religion.
CONCEBNING GOD 29
my object is simply to bring within reach of ordinary Religious
people like myself the religious peace and joy that result dominant.
from his identification of God with the Universe, all I
need to do is to note such ideas of the earlier books as
are essential to the moral and spiritual appreciation of
the final book.
We have noted above how, according to the Master,
the infinite divine substance is one, and there can no
more be two substances than there can be two Gods. It
follows — but the proofs need not detain us — that the one
divine Substance is indivisible. I may quote certain Substance
» •, . . indivisible.
pregnant sentences of explanation : —
' If, however, any one should ask why we are by nature so
inclined to the division of quantity,1 I reply to him that
quantity is conceived by us in two different modes, that is to
say, abstractly2 — apart from reality — or superficially, just
as we fancy it; or else as substance, a conception grasped
only by the intellect.' — Part I., Prop, xv., Schol.
To a critical reader it may naturally occur that, Even if ex-
if we surrender extension as a distinct Attribute, regarded6
and regard it only as a mode of Thought, this part ^ Thought
of Spinoza's teaching can have no interest for us. jj^ed^c"
But I am not so sure of that. For the majority 2ot Sllper"
J fluous.
of people have an inveterate habit of regarding each
finite personality as so intensely one and distinct from
everything else, that it may be taken as the very type of
unity. Now this belief is certainly opposed to Spinoza's
doctrine of the indivisibility of Substance. Because, Ordinary
though we are dealing immediately with an Attribute
(Thought) and not with the divine Substance, yet, as we
1 I.e. by measurement in yards, feet, inches, etc.
2 See farther on, p. 30.
30 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
have seen, Spinoza regards the Attribute not as some
thing distinct from Substance, but as one aspect of it
expressing its infinite reality. If, then, we regard the
Attribute or aspect as divided down to the very core of
Being, so that finite personality becomes the type of
separate and distinct unity, we necessarily imply a
division of the divine Substance, and thus contravene one
of Spinoza's essential principles. But on this question
no more need be said than is sufficient to show that even
if we merge Extension in Thought, the doctrine of Sub-
The doc- stance is unaffected. Or, as Sir Frederick Pollock says
Substance of his own luminous observations on this point, 'the
ected. process Of criticism we have just gone through, supposing
it to be legitimate, does not affect the substantial and
working value of Spinoza's metaphysic.'
Eeturning then to the Master's defence of his teaching
on the indivisibility of substance, we note that his mode
Spinoza's of regarding the ' abstract ' and the ' substantial ' is pre-
ofthe t cisely the opposite of that sanctioned by ordinary
and^hT custom. For the latter treats apparently separate exist-
tiarsta ences, such as stones, trees, and persons, as real, while
the mental effort to merge them all in a higher unity as
modes of the infinite Thought is regarded as an exercise
in abstraction. But Spinoza, being convinced that the
Universe, or God, is one substance and essentially indi
visible, regards all our impressions of separate finite
things as abstractions from reality;1 while the infinite
1 This has nothing to do with Spinoza's treatment of the idea of
species. He quite rightly taught that the idea of species is only a
blurred image of the individuals comprised, when they become too
numerous to be retained separately in memory. But this has no bear
ing upon his theory that neither the • individuals ' nor the species
imply any division of the divine Substance.
CONCERNING GOD 31
truth is cognisable only by the intellect, or, as Kant
afterwards preferred to call it, the ' pure reason.'
But this does not at all imply that our ordinary not an im-
r> i T-i > i -i A -i i putation of
impressions are false. For though they are not abso- falsehood
lutely true, they are relatively true. Let me try if I can precisions,"
illustrate what I mean. I have already admitted that
all analogies between the finite and the infinite must
needs be inexact. Still sometimes they help us a little, but their
Think, then, of a number of observers, north, south, east S^nSt"
and west, contemplating a great mountain whose f orm absolute<
has been carved and moulded and riven by the vicissi
tudes of geological time. Needless to say that the illustration
contour is so different, as seen from various points, that views oFT
if two or three observers compared their own personal m
impressions alone, the only escape from the mutual
imputation of falsehood would seem to be that they had
not been looking at the same mountain. Yet not one of
their impressions is false. It is true relatively to the
position of the observer, but it is not a true account of
the whole mass. Thus one observer may see an aiguille aiguille,
apparently quite detached from the great mountain and
placed as the chief feature of a symmetrical arrangement
of harmonious curves and wooded slopes around its base,
so that it at once appears to demand a distinct name, and
to be a thing of beauty by itself. To another every
feeling is centred in a magnificent waterfall which rushes waterfall,
into view from untrodden heights above, and, both by its
might and its grace and its commanding voice, so sub
ordinates to itself every other feature of the visible
landscape that, to this observer, the vision of the moun
tain is the vision of the waterfall, nothing more. To a
32
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
forest and
precipice ;
view of the
whole from
the sky.
Thus
Spinoza
treats the
idea of
things or
persons.
third, aspiring forests barred by naked precipices above,
and the gleam of snow-fields over all, are for ever asso
ciated with the mountain's name. And all these aspects
are true, relatively to the positions of the observers. But
to the daring aeronaut who sails through the sky over
the summit, the great mountain is seen to merge all these
particular aspects in a general form which, though it
convict none of the observers of falsehood, yet cannot be
identified with what is seen by any. The painter's
picture of the aiguille and its surrounding beauties, the
poet's vision of the waterfall and his interpretation of its
chant, the rapture of Buskin's disciple before forest per
spectives and precipice and snow, are all the result of
abstraction from the whole, and concentration of thought
and emotion on a part which cannot, except relatively
to contemplative thought and sense, be detached there
from.
So Spinoza regarded all our impressions of separate
and detached things or persons as abstractions from
reality, yet not on that account false. For they are true
relatively to our finite mode of the infinite Thought.
And this truth can always be verified so long as our finite
mode of thought remains what it is. For as the artisti
cally conceived landscape abstracted from the mountain
mass will always be there again if the painter goes away
and returns to it, so the abstractions formed from the
infinite Whole by finite modes of thought can always be
perceived again so long as the exercise of our senses and
conception are normal, that is, in accordance with the
nature of things.
The Proposition (i., xxviii.) and Scholium in which his
CONCEEOTNG GOD 33
doctrine of finite things is set forth are attended by all His endless
the inconveniences of the inappropriate Euclidean form, fSte of
which to many readers— and indeed to all of us at first eS.and
sight — quite obscures the plain common-sense at the
basis of his theory. For really it all amounts to this,
that, while nothing can be separated from and still less
independent of God, the infinite Attributes are subject
to an infinite variety of finite modes, so that the plenum
of the divine Life — if we may so speak — must be con
ceived by us as an infinite series of finite changes, so
balanced as to constitute a Whole of eternal rest and
peace. I know that this is not the form taken by his
quasi-mathematical proposition and proof. But that this
is what it means when translated into the thought of the
plain man I cannot doubt. Here is the Proposition in
English : —
^ 'Every individual (thing) or any finite thing having a
limited (mode of) existence, would be unable to exist or be
actuated to work, unless it were determined in its existence
and working by some other cause which also is finite and has
a limited (mode of) existence, and again this cause also
cannot exist nor be determined in its operation unless it is
actuated in its existence and work by another which is also
finite and has a limited (mode of) existence, and so on with
out end.'
This may sound very obscure and dry. But it is only
the Philosopher's way of expressing the truth of the Rendered
Poet's vision :—
' There rolls the deep where grew the tree.
0 earth, what changes hast thou seen !
There where the long street roars, hath been
The stillness of the central sea.
C
34 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
' The hills are shadows, and they flow
From form to form and nothing stands ;
They melt like mists, the solid lands,
Like clouds they shape themselves and go.'
Or as a much older philosopher, with an occasional
gleam of melancholy poetry in his view of life, wrote
long ago : —
Apreccdent 'One generation passeth away and another generation
Sire0™1*" cometh; but the earth ahideth for ever. The sun also
ariseth and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place
where he arose. The wind goeth toward the south and
turneth about unto the north : it whirleth about continually,
and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. All
the rivers run into the sea ; yet the sea is not full ; unto the
place from whence the rivers come, thither they return
again.'
Of course, neither the Hebrew cynic nor the late poet
had the same philosophy as Spinoza. But their descrip
tion of the interplay of finite causes which keeps per
petual movement within the bosom of eternal peace is
really a sort of ' kinetogram ' of the principles laid down
by the Master.1
Approxi- Further, Spinoza seems here to anticipate, though
cipatkm of distantly, the modern doctrines of cause as equivalent to
doctrine of the infinite sum of all conditions, and therefore identical
with the effect. I say ' distantly/ for his approximation
consists only in the perception that there can be no
1 The fact that Spinoza speaks of a static interdependence of all
finite things on one another, while the Poet and the Hebrew sage
referred to their perpetual movement, is of no consequence. For
Spinoza knew as well as Heraclitus that ' ir&vra pel,' all things flow :
and the static interdependence is simply the aspect presented to
momentary consciousness, as when we glance at a rushing waterfall,
which seems still, but, as we know, is in violent motion.
CONCEKNING GOD 35
;:-
isolated ' cause,' that everything is dependent on every
thing else. Thus the movements within the Universe
are an infinite number of unbeginning and endless series
through which the determination to existence and action 1
runs. Still his language about ' causes ' belongs to his
own and preceding times, and would scarcely be adopted
at the present time except by way of convenient conven
tion ; just as evolutionists talk of the 'purpose' of
'natural selection/ though the word means for them
only the result attained, without any implication of
intention.
Still there remains insoluble for us or for any finite An in-
creature, even an archangel, if such a being exists, the pSlm
relation of what we call ' time ' to eternity, or the coinci- remamms-
dence, nay, identity, of the peaceful realisation of all
possible existence on the infinite scale, with the innumer
able, unbeginning and endless series of movements which
constitute our impressions of life and the universe. All
we can say is that the very fact of our finite existence,
though it be not the hard, distinct, and separate thing
1 But the determination to existence and action is really of God
alone, and the impression of intermediate ' causes ' and successions is
due simply to our relative view of modes or modifications of the
Attributes of the divine Substance. Spinoza's apparent recognition
of secondary causes must surely be interpreted consistently with his
Scholium to Proposition xxv., Pt. I., where he explains that God is the
cause of all things in the same sense in which He is the cause of Him
self, i.e. all things are expressions of His self -existence. Or, as he
puts it in the Corollary following, { Individual things are nothing but
affections or modes of the Attributes of God by which His attributes
are expressed in a definite and limited manner.' Kg. a triangle or
circle is an affection or mode of the Attribute of Extension expressing
it in a definite, limited manner. And a man's thought about the
world is a similarly limited mode of the divine Attribute of
Thought.
36
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Natwra
Naturans
and
Natura
Naturata*
Nature
Active and
Nature
Passive.
which some have thought, makes contemplation from
the height of infinity impossible. Eelatively our im
pressions are true. Past, present, and future are real,
just as partial views of one enormous mountain are real
to beholders in different positions. But all the same, it
is true as Spinoza teaches, therein agreeing with many of
the greatest philosophers and divines, that Eternity is not
unlimited duration, but the always present consumma
tion of all possible existence.
This seems the best place in which to refer to a dis
tinction treated as important by Spinoza, though it seems
to me to have little bearing on the practical issues of re
ligion which I have in view. Still, though I am making
no pretence to give a complete, detailed statement of the
Master's philosophy, this is a point too characteristic to
be omitted even in a sketch. For the distinction be
tween Natura Naturans or Nature Active, and Natura
Naturata, or Nature Passive, gave profound satisfaction
to the great Pantheist,1 and it is possible that even now
it may afford relief to those who are attracted by his
vision of the Universe, but who, owing to the inveteracy
of ancient habit, cannot dispense with the antithesis of
Creator and Creation. Now by Natura Naturans we are
to understand ' what exists in and by itself, and is con
ceived by itself, or such Attributes of Substance as
express its eternal and infinite essence (or reality), that
is, God, so for as He is contemplated as a free cause.' 2 By
Natura Naturata, on the other hand, we are to understand
1 The distinction, of course was not invented by him, as it was
familiar to theological and scholarly writers of the Middle Ages. But
I do not think any one ever before explained the distinction in the
same way.
i., xxix., Schol.
CONCEKNING GOD 37
Vail that follows necessarily from the nature of God, or Prop, xxix.,
ifrom any and every one of the Attributes of God, that is,
all the modes of God's Attributes, in so far as they are
contemplated as 'things' (res), which are in God, and
which cannot either exist or be conceived apart from
God.' In a word, as suggested above, the one is Nature
Active, while the other is Nature Passive, but they differ
only in aspect. For they are in essence absolutely
identical, and each is only a mode of conceiving God. It
should be noted, however, that thought, will, desire, love,
and all affections belong to Natura Naturata and not to intellect
. andemo-
Natura Naturans. But this is not inconsistent with my tion belong
i ^.T- -T-. • i to Natura
rendering of the former phrase as Nature Passive, because Naturata.
the thought, will, desire and the like here in view are
only modes of attributes even were they on an infinite
scale, and are referred to God as their free cause.
And here, before leaving this First Book 'Concerning
God,' it is needful to say a word on Spinoza's use of the
word ' freedom.' For, ever since Milton's Fallen Angels
endeavoured to alleviate their catastrophe by debatings
on ' free will ' and ' fate,' every one who surveyed Nature
and Man has been compelled to face a problem which, By Free
Cause is
like the equally ancient one of motion, solvitur ambulando not meant
a capricious
and in no other way. We have already seen that when or variable
the Master speaks of a divine ' free cause,' he means a
cause subject to no external compulsion, and acting only
in accordance with the eternal laws of Its own nature.1
While, however, this freedom excludes external con-
1 Of course, the phrase ' laws of His own nature ' is insufficient.
But however we think of natural law, it suggests to most of us an
absolutely certain regularity, and that is enough here.
38 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
straint, it also excludes caprice. That is, God does not
act now in this way and now in that from unreasoning
choice. But the divine action is always in accordance
with the laws of His own nature, and these laws, being
of His eternal substance, could not be otherwise than
they are. It is only our finiteness which prevents our
seeing that they could no more be otherwise than the
three angles of a plane triangle could be less or more
than two right angles. There is no need to dwell on
this. It is an indefeasible principle of the system I am
expounding. And though I have known the time when
A question I was repelled by the idea of accepting such a Free
ence.pei Cause, and preferred the imagined spectre of a biggest
Person among all other persons, acting as smaller
persons do, only better, I have come myself to recognise
that the God of Spinoza is much more exalted above the
God of Calvin than the Jahweh of Isaiah was above the
Baal of King Manasseh. Perhaps, however, for the justi
fication of this experience, it is better to wait till we deal
with the Fifth Book ' Concerning the Freedom of Man/
APPENDIX TO PAET I
THE following is a substantially accurate but verbally
free rendering of the Appendix with which the Master
concludes his First Part ' Concerning God.'
'Thus I have expounded the nature of God and its pro- Summary ?
perties. I have shown that He exists of necessity, that He
is the one and only God ; that He is and acts from the sole
necessity of His own nature ; that He is the free cause of all
things, and how He is so ; that all things are in God and so
depend upon Him, that without Himself they can neither be
nor be conceived ; and finally that all things have been pre
determined by God, not indeed in the exercise of freedom of
will l or by despotic decree, but by reason of His absolute
nature or infinite (unconditioned) power. Farther, as
occasion arose, I have taken some pains to remove any pre
judices which might interfere with an understanding of my
proofs. But since not a few prejudices still remain which
also were formerly, and are still, an enormous hindrance to
men's adoption of the system of the universe 2 which I have
expounded, I think it worth while here to subject those pre
judices to the test of reason. And since all the prejudices Prejudices
which I here undertake to expose depend on the one ordinary ^^ ht to
assumption of men that all things in Nature act like men the test of
reason.
1 There is no contradiction between this and the former assertion
that God is the 'free cause of all things.' The latter means simply
the spontaneous cause, i.e. acting from within and not by external
compulsion. But this does not in the least involve what is commonly
understood by 'free will.' I have, however, often to acknowledge
that Spinoza's whole doctrine of ' cause ' is obsolete.
2 Eerum concatenationem.
39
40 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
themselves with a view to aii end, nay, even regard it as a
matter of course that God Himself is guiding all things toward
The some definite end ] — for they say that God made all things
not made on account of man, but man that he might worship God — I
for man. sha}i consider this point first, at the outset examining the
reason why the generality of men agree in this prejudice
Plan of the while all are by nature inclined to embrace it. Next I shall
exposition. snow tne faiseh00(} Of this prejudice, and finally how out of
it have sprung prejudices concerning good and evil, merit and
crime, praise and blame, order and confusion, beauty and ugliness,
and others of the like nature.
' But this is not the place to deduce all this from the nature
(1) The of the human mind. It will be enough here if I take for a
Sea c?fCf?ee main Principle tne fact which all must surely acknowledge,
will arises that all men are born ignorant of the causes of things, and
from desire. -i,ni • • T -,*,•-, ? • i
coupled t"at all nave a conscious impulse to seek what is beneficial to
withignor- themselves. From this it follows that men suppose them-
ance of its . - . .
cause. selves to be free whenever they have a consciousness of their
own wishes and desires, while they never dream of the causes
by which they are inclined to desire and will, because they
are unaware of any such causes. It follows, secondly, that
men do all things with a view to some end, that is, with a
view to something beneficial which they desire. Hence it is
that they always seek so much to know the final causes
(2) As men (purpose) of anything done, and when they have heard this
act for IT* they are satisned ; because indeed they have no reason for
purpose, further doubt. But if they cannot learn those final causes
led to^sk ^rom Bother person, there is nothing for it but to look into
the purpose themselves and to reflect on those ends with a view to which
thing!17 they themselves usually determine on analogous actions, and
thus of necessity they judge the intention of another being
The pur- by their own. Farther, since they find by experience both
what Is in themselves and in the outer world many means of securing
useful to no small advantage to themselves, as for instance the eyes
them must #
thSvL. l Compare t^ie last h'nes of ' In Memoriam ' :
have been ' And one far off divine event
their own To which the whole creation moves.'
welfare.
APPENDIX TO PAPvT I 41
for sight, the teeth for chewing, herbs and animals for
nourishment, the sun for light, the sea for nourishing fishes,
and so forth, thus they are led to consider all natural objects
as means for serving their welfare. And inasmuch as they if they did
know that these means have been found, but not made, by ^^things
themselves, hence they have assumed a reason for believing themselves,
that there is some other (being) who has prepared those being or er
means for their use. For when once they regarded (natural) beings must
things as means (to an end), they could not possibly believe so.
that these things had made themselves. But from the
analogy of the means (instruments) which they are accus
tomed to prepare for themselves, they plausibly concluded l
that there existed some being, or some rulers of Nature, en
dowed with human freedom of will (libertate), who had con
trived all these things for man, and had constituted all
things for the advantage of men. And since men had never These
heard anything about the disposition (mind, intention) of natural
those Eulers of Nature, that disposition was inevitably beings were
, . , TT inevitably
estimated by the standard of human nature. Hence men imagined as
adopted the idea that the gods order everything with a view to
the advantage of men, in order that they may bind men to motives.
themselves, and be held by men in supreme honour. Thus
it came to pass that every one invented for himself, out of This
„ * . . SM i 11 i accounts
his own head, different forms of worshipping God, all seek- for th
ing that God should love them more than the rest of men,
and should order Nature so as to serve their blind greed and cults.
insatiable avarice. And so it was that this prejudice2 was
turned into superstition and thrust deep roots into the minds
of men, which superstition is accountable for the universal
straining of desire to know and explain the final causes of The search
things, But while men sought to show that Nature does causes eiMis
nothing in vain — that is, nothing which may not serve man in proving
. * . universal
— they seem to have succeeded in proving nothing except ineptitude.
thut Nature and the gods are as mad as men.
1 Condudere debuerunt ; say, 'could hardly help concluding.'
2 I.e. of anthropomorphism — the attribution of final causes to
Nature.
42 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
The other ' Mark, I pray you, the issue. Amid so many blessings of
shleld^the nature, there were necessarily many things unpleasant, such
apparent as storms, earthquakes, diseases and such like. And men
Nature. °f held the opinion that these things happened because the
gods were angry on account of wrongs done to them by
mankind, or on account of errors committed in the form of
Theological worship. And although experience from day to day insisted
contrary" to and proved by innumerable instances that advantage and
fact. disadvantage befell equally and without any distinction both
the pious and the impious, not in the least on that account
did they relinquish their ingrained prejudice. For to count
The CJn- this among other unknown things of which they did not
no refuge know the final purpose or advantage, was easier to them
nere- than to cancel that whole system of thought, and to think
out a new one. Hence they laid it down as a certain axiom
that the judgments of the gods far surpass human under
standing; which indeed by itself would have been amply
sufficient to hide truth for ever from the human race, had
Mathemat- not Mathematics, which does not deal with ends (or purposes)
J'SflSSSt but only with the essential nature and properties of figures,
standard of discovered to men another standard of truth.1 And in addi-
tion to Mathematics other causes might be mentioned—
tnough it; is needless to recount them here— enabling men to
take note of these universal prejudices, and to become sus
ceptible of guidance to a true understanding of things.
'I have thus explained sufficiently what I undertook to
Final deal with first.2 And now in order to show that Nature has
causes only get herself no fixea purpose, and that all final causes are but
£iii <nvtnro- _ -™ -j-
pomorphic human fictions, there is no need of many words, .tor .
pretence. Believe t^s to be sufficiently established both by my demon
stration of the origins and causes in which this prejudice has
had its birth, and also by the propositions and corollaries 3
1 The suggestion is ( 1 ) that no purpose (or final cause) can be assigned
to the truths about space, figure, and quantity. They are because
they are. (2) That such truths are judged by reason, or intuition.
2 Viz. the reason why the generality of men assume as a matter of
course the reality of final causes.
3 Props, xvi., xxxii., and Corollaries.
APPENDIX TO PAET I 43
and all those arguments by which I have shown that all
things arise in supreme perfection by a sort of eternal neces
sity of Nature. This, however, I will add here ; that the
above doctrine of a purpose entirely overturns Nature. For Contradic-
that which in very deed is a cause, it considers as an effect, y°^se^n"
and the reverse. Secondly, that which in Nature is first it in the
puts last. And, lastly, that which is supreme and absolutely d(
perfect it represents as most imperfect.
* For, omitting the first two points as self-evident,1 that The doc-
effect is most perfect which is produced immediately by God;2 {[^i causes
and in proportion as everything requires a greater number makes
, . , //, , r. j ?••..• • r 4. remoter
of intermediate causes for its production, it is more imperfect. effects Of
But if things immediately produced by God had been made
in order that God might thereby achieve His (farther) better than
purpose, then necessarily the last things, for the sake of JflJJta1**8
which the first were made, would be the most excellent of all.
' Then again this doctrine does away with the perfection of it also
God. For if God acts with a view to an end, necessarily He f?™*
desires something that is lacking to Him. And although infinite
Theologians and Metaphysicians distinguish between an end pe
sought because of need and an end sought by way of assimila
tion, nevertheless they acknowledge that God has done all
1 We are referred to Props, xxi.-xxiii., all going to show that all
finite forms or events being modes of the Attributes, are necessarily
involved in the Essence or Being of God and cannot be conceived
otherwise. This being granted, a final cause is a contradiction in
terms, for it is really an effect involved in the Infinite Cause. But
these subtleties perhaps confuse more than they explain. The common-
sense underlying these subtleties comes out more clearly as we pro
ceed with the Appendix.
2 It is impossible to avoid the impression that there is something of
the argumentum ad hominem here. To Spinoza, who identified God
with the Universe, everything must have been— though even this is
inaccurate— an 'immediate effect' of God. He is truer to himself
when he tells us that we and everything else are finite modes of God's
infinite Attributes. But, apparently for the purpose of making
himself more comprehensible, he here argues in a manner that seems to
assume a chain of causes, some nearer to and some remoter from God,
a mode of thought fundamentally inconsistent with his philosophy.
44 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
things for His own sake and not for the sake of the things to
be created ; because before creation they cannot suggest any
thing other than God for the sake of which God might act.
Thus they are inevitably forced to confess that God lacked
and desired those things with a view to which He willed to
prepare the (necessary) means — as is self-evident.
* But we must not omit to notice that the adherents of this
doctrine, while desiring to show their ingenuity in finding
purposes for all things, have brought to the proof of this
their doctrine a novel method of argument, I mean the appeal
The argu- not to impossibility (the unthinkable) but to ignorance;
ignorance. wnicn shows that for this doctrine no other method of
argument was available. For if, by way of example, from
any roof a stone has fallen on some one's head and has killed
him, they will prove after the above method that the stone
fell for the purpose of killing the man. For unless it had
fallen in accordance with the divine will for that purpose,
how could so many circumstances — for often there are many
concurrent — have co-operated by accident 1 You will reply
perhaps that this happened because the wind blew and
because the man was going that way. But they will insist
upon asking why did the wind blow at that time ? Why
was the man going that way at the same time 1 If again you
answer that the wind rose then because the sea on the pre
ceding day after a time of calm had begun to be stirred, and
that the man had been invited by a friend, they will insist
on asking again — because there is no end to such questions —
but why was the sea stirred up <\ Why was the man invited
for that particular time 1 And still continuing, they will not
cease to inquire the causes of causes until you betake yourself
to the will of God which is the refuge of ignorance.1
1 This is not for a moment to be confounded with Spencer's doctrine
of the Unknowable. The theological plea of ignorance is a capricious
choice of a particular limit imposed by piety or authority on human
knowledge. Spencer's Unknowable— or, for that matter, Spinoza's in
finite Being, endowed with infinite Attributes subject to infinite modes
— is what is reached after the freest use of all the powers of human
intellect totally regardless of any authority but that of experience.
APPENDIX TO PAET I 45
1 So likewise when they see the structure of the human The
body they are astounded, and, because they do not know the
causes of art so great, they infer that it was not constructed referred to
by molecular force,1 but by divine or supernatural art, and natural
has been formed in such a way that one part will not injure the origins.
other. And thus it happens that any man who searches into
the true causes of miracles and who endeavours to understand The fate
natural order as a man of culture, and not merely to gape at thoughtful
it as a fool, is everywhere taken for a heretic, and irreligious,
and is banned by those whom the mob adore as the inter
preters of Nature and the gods. For such interpreters know
that if ignorance be removed, stolid amazement — the solitary
means they possess of conviction and defence of their authority
— is abolished. But I pass from such matters and hasten
onward to that which I undertook to treat in the third
place.
( After men have persuaded themselves that all created Origin of
things were made for their benefit, they have inevitably gorfesof
considered that quality in each thing to be most important good, evil,
which is most useful to themselves, arid have regarded as e c>
most excellent all those things by which they were best
served. In this way they must needs have formed the
notions by which they expressed the nature of things, such
as Good, Evil, Order, Confusion, Warm, Cold, Beauty, and
Ugliness. And because they think themselves free, other
notions have been formed, such as Praise and Reproach, Crime
(sin) and Merit.2 But these latter I defer till after I have
1 Of course this is not Spinoza's word, which is 'mechanical But
' molecular ' represents Spinoza's idea transposed into modern modes
of thought.
2 The patient student will find that both praise and reproach and
the notions of sin and merit have a full and adequate place in Spinoza's
own doctrine. That is, they are essential elements in the universal
order. E.g. it is false to regard praise or reproach as operating on a
separate faculty called Will, that is subject to no order. But it is
true that praise and reproach are part of the forces acting on the
individual microcosm which is just as invariable in its order as the
macrocosm.
46 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
treated of Human Nature. The former, however, I will here
briefly explain.
' Everything that makes for human welfare and for the
service of God they have called Good, but whatever is opposed
to these they have called Evil. And because those who do
not understand the nature of things have no explanation to
give of things,1 but only have fancies about them and take
their fancies for understanding, therefore in their ignorance
both of the outer world and of their own nature they firmly
believe that there is a (conceivable)2 scheme (or system) of
The notion things. For when things are so arranged that, being pre-
or plaif ?n sented to us through the senses, we can readily picture them,
creation an and consequently remember them easily, we say that they
are well arranged ; while if they are the reverse we say
that they are confused. And since those things which we
can easily conceive are more accordant with our pleasure
than others, therefore men prefer system (ordinem) to con
fusion — as though system in Nature were anything more
than relative to our imagination. Then they say that God has
created everything on a system, and thus in their ignorance
they attribute imagination to God.3 Unless perchance they
mean that God, with a design to humour the imagination of
man, has arranged all things on a plan by which they may be
most easily pictured in the mind. Nor perhaps would they
see the least difficulty in the fact that innumerable things
are found which far surpass our imagination, and very many
which absolutely stagger its weakness. But enough of this.
* There are other notions also which are nothing at all but
modes in which the imagination is variously affected; and
1 Nihil de rebus affirmant.
2 I insert this word to bring out what I believe to have been in the
mind of Spinoza. After reading his doctrine of the Attributes and
their Modes and their eternally fixed relations, it would be absurd to
suppose that he denied universal order (Or do). But what he did
deny was the fancied scheme of any theologian such as ' the plan of
salvation,' etc.
3 As though He were an architect who conceives a plan and works
up to it.
APPENDIX TO PAKT I 47
yet by the ignorant they are regarded as being conspicuous
attributes of things ; because, as we have just said, they
believe that everything was made for them. And they call Epithets
the nature of any particular thing, good or evil, sound or ^^ ^d
rotten and corrupt, according as they themselves are affected evil are
, .. -r-, . .,., ., . -, -i ' i ,1 relative to
by it. r or instance, it the vibration -1 wnicn the nerves man oniy_
receive from objects presented by means of the eyes conduce
to satisfaction, the objects by which it is caused are called
beautiful ; but those which excite an opposite sort of vibration,
ugly. Objects again which stimulate perception through the
nostrils men call fragrant or fetid, those (that act) through
the tongue, sweet or bitter, tasty or unsavoury, and so on.
Those objects which affect touch they call hard or soft, rough
or smooth, and so forth. And, lastly, those which affect the
ears are said to give forth noise, tone, or harmony ; and this
last has befooled men to the extent of supposing that God
takes pleasure in harmonious sound. Nor are there wanting
Philosophers who have got the notion that there is such a
thing as the music of the spheres.2 Now all these facts show
plainly how every one has formed his estimate of (outward)
things according to the disposition of his brain, or rather
how he has taken the affections of his imagination for actual
ities. No wonder therefore — as we may observe in pass
ing — that the multitudinous controversies of our experience
have arisen among mankind, and from these controversies,
in the last result, Scepticism.3 For although the bodies of Differences
men agree in many things they differ in very many, and tfon^ncf"
therefore what seems good to one seems evil to another ; taste show
what is systematic to one is to another confused. What is js nothing
pleasant to one is displeasing to another ; and so of other absolute
things which I here pass by, partly because this is not the qualities
perceived.
1 Motus — I do not attribute to Spinoza any modern theory, but
vibration is as good as movement.
2 ' Sibi persuaserint motus celestes harmonium componere,'
3 Spinoza means by this something worse than Agnosticism — un
named in his day. He refers to the Pyrrhonism — a name probably
quite unjust to Pyrrho — which held that there was no means of
knowing anything, and perhaps nothing to know.
48 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
place to deal with them in order, and partly because the fact
is one which everybody knows by experience. For every
one keeps saying " so many heads, so many ways of thinking,"
" every one is satisfied by his own way of thinking " ; " the
differences of brains are not fewer than the differences of
palates." Such proverbs show plainly that men judge of things
by the disposition of the brain, and imagine things rather than
understand them. For if they understood things, all men,
if not attracted (by the truth), would be at least convinced.
'Thus we see that all the methods by which ordinary
people are accustomed to explain Nature are only modes of
picturing things ; nor do those methods reveal the nature of
any object, but only the constitution of the imagination.
Entities of And because those modes of imagination have names, as
nation*8' though of entities existing independently, I call them entities
not of reason, but of fancy. And in this way all arguments
brought against us by means of such notions can easily be
repelled. For many are in the habit of arguing thus : If all
supposed things follow by necessity from the absolutely perfect nature
SrSC °f God, whence have come so many imperfections in Nature 1
Nature are For instance, the putrescence of things, with disgusting
asp^rts60 odour, ugliness of things exciting nausea, confusion, evil,
Sons ofPt!ie cr^me anc* tne rest ^ But as I have just said, they are easily
whole. confuted. For the perfection of things and their value
(valency) is to be measured by their own nature solely ; and
things are not more or less perfect on account of the delight
or the offence they cause to men — because they are favour
able to human nature or repel it. To those, however, who
inquire why God did not create all men so that they should
be governed only by the guidance of reason, I reply only
that there was no lack to Him of material for the creation of
all sorts of things, from the highest to the lowest grade of
perfection ; or, to speak more correctly, because the laws of
His own nature were so resourceful (ample) that they sufficed
for the production of all things that can be conceived by any
infinite intellect, as I have shown.1 These are the prejudices
1 Prop. xvi.
APPENDIX TO PAET I 49
which I undertook here to notice. If any others of the same
grain still survive they can be corrected by any one with a
moderate amount of consideration.'
If it stood by itself this Appendix might seern to A caution
justify those who have accused Spinoza of nullifying not hasty con-
only the sanctions but the very possibility of morals.
But it does not stand by itself. It is organically related
to all the other parts. And when these are grasped
in their entirety — but especially their culmination in
Part v. — it will be found that Spinoza leaves the
practical facts and issues of morality precisely as they
have always been, and as they are now held by practical
men uncommitted to any theory. What he does is to
offer an explanation different from that most generally
accepted, but more consistent with itself because more
accordant with things as they are. All the usual sanctions
of morality — God, Eternity — in the true sense — reward
and punishment, repentance, remorse, aspiration, brotherly
love, Love to God, aspiration after ideal goodness — have
as much a place in Spinoza's system as in any other.
But he gives them a profounder security, by showing
that they are no mere ordinations of any Will, but the
eternally necessary results of that divine Nature, which,
in its Infinity, is absolutely perfect and good, though the
mutual relations of finite modifications of its attributes
are not always accommodated to our pleasure.
PART II
THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND
n'd °UR Study of tlie First Book of the Ethics has shown us
Book to that, according to Spinoza, there is absolutely nothing in
for finite being but God, His Attributes and their Modes. That
wTthm the is to say, if the term ' Atheism ' or ' No-God-ism ' could
God? 6 ever be accurately used to describe any actual form of
human belief, or unbelief, then Spinoza's position was the
precise contrary of this, inasmuch as he maintained that
in all eternity and infinity there has not been and cannot
ever be anything other than God Such a position
necessarily raises the question, What then do we mean
by ' creation/ by finite existence, and, above all, by indi
vidual consciousness ?
Creation So far as concerns what we call 'creation/ we have
and finite TIT
things. already learned that according to Spinoza there was never
a beginning and cannot be an end to the Universe as
revealed by our senses. In his view, the impressions we
have of an external world constitute our inadequate idea
of the infinite number of things which eternally follow in
endless variety from the necessity of the divine nature.
Of the things thus involved in the necessity of the divine
nature, individual things, or things which are finite and
have a determinate existence — such as stars, planets,
THE NATUEE AND OEIGIN OF THE MIND 51
trees, animals, and all the various objects of our senses —
cannot exist nor be determined to action unless by means
of another cause which is also finite, and again this
ulterior cause depends on a farther finite cause, and so on
ad infinitum.1 I have already suggested that this merely innumer-
amounts to the assertion of an innumerable and endless endless
series of successions such as we partially picture in evolu- changes
tion, and devolution, growth and decay, the whole of the unity?
innumerable and endless series being comprehended
within the divine unity of substance.
Now, amongst the finite things thus constituted is men. Humanity:
I do not mean man as a race ; for Spinoza was so far a body.an'
' Nominalist ' that he would not tolerate any idea of
species except such as results from the compound image
formed by the mind when trying to recall a group or
series of individuals having marked points of resem
blance, too numerous to be retained separately in the
memory. It is then the personal man — myself, yourself,
himself, that is Spinoza's subject when he discourses of
the Origin and Nature of Mind. Of course, he has in
view the endless varieties of individual character, and is
perfectly aware that to large numbers he must be unin
telligible. But he is inspired by a faith that truth must
in the end prevail ; and so far as he is teaching the truth
he knows that his word cannot die.
For the purpose I have in view it will not be necessary scope of
to do more than give briefly Spinoza's theory of the rela- chapter?111
tions of body and mind with a very few of the results
1 See Props, xvi. and xxviii., Pt. i. It is true that nothing is said
there about our ' inadequate idea ' of the Universe of finite things ; but
it is clearly involved.
52 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
thereof as set forth in his Part n. If the word ' Origin '
stands in the title, we must not be misled by it. For he
Spinoza certainly had not before him the same problem as Darwin
toucifevo- and Haeckel; though their conclusions, could he have
origin?.1 foreseen them, would not in the least have disturbed his
serene contemplations of the eternal life. Because such
conclusions do not touch his doctrine of Substance,
Attributes, and Modes. However, what he means by the
word Origin here is, clearly, the immediate cause or
causes1 of the finite mind, that is, of any personal mind
now in being.
Man a finite It will be remembered that, according to the Master,
tension and Extension and Thought are each infinite Attributes of
the divine Substance or God, and each subject to an
infinite variety of Modes, or modifications, which Modes
again may be either finite or infinite. Of the finite
Modes of Extension and Thought man is an instance.
For his body is a finite Mode of the Attribute of Exten
sion, while his mind is a finite Mode of the Attribute of
Thought. But this does not mean that mind and body
are two essentially different things. On the contrary, as
Extension is one aspect of the divine Substance, and
Thought is another, it follows that mind and body are
both finite expressions or manifestations of the one
ultimate reality. Therefore, if we would follow this
teacher accurately, we are not to think of a ' soul ' or
'body' in the ordinary sense, but of God manifested
under finite modes of Extension and Thought. Thus
1 The reader may need to be reminded that Spinoza's notion of
' cause ' is certainly one of the points on which later thought tends
irrevocably to diverge from him.
THE NATUEE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 53
Spinoza's theory is at least free from the difficulties felt
by previous philosophers as to the interaction of spirit
and flesh. For there is no interaction ; because they are
the same thing in different aspects.
It may perhaps be suggested that any practical exposi- Objection
. . . suggested
tion of Spinoza on these lines must be inconsistent with by sir F.
my adoption above of Sir Frederick Pollock's criticism on criticism
the double appearance of Thought in the system. For,
if the critic is right, as I have acknowledged, then Exten
sion (or at least consciousness of Extension) is only a Mode
of Thought, and therefore only one Attribute, that of
Thought, is cognisable in man. I do not, however, agree
that any inconsistency arises. For Sir Frederick Pollock
himself says that his criticism leaves the practical issues does not
touch the
of Spinoza s philosophy untouched ; l and it is with these practical
I am mainly concerned. Indeed, even while allowing
that Extension is a Mode of Thought, we feel it to be so
different a mode from feelings of pain or pleasure, of
desire or dislike, of ratiocination, induction or deduction,
that it is easily and naturally kept apart as a group of
forms of consciousness clearly distinguishable from those
that do not involve the notion of extension or space. In
this sense, while fully recognising that Extension itself is Extension
as a Mode
a Mode of Thought, we may still attach significance to of Thought
Spinoza's theory of mind and body as the same thing distinguish-
under different aspects. We pursue the exposition, other
adhering to Spinoza's method, but always with the reser- m
vation above stated,
r As Spinoza puts it then, the body is the 'object' of The body as
'object 'of
1 Of course, what I say here is only my interpretation of Sir
Frederick Pollock's criticism.
54 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
which the mind is the ' idea.' But we must mark the
difference between Spinoza's notion of ' object ' and that
(xiii.,Pt.n.) of many other thinkers. For he does not mean that
the body is something outside, at which the mind looks
as through a window. He means rather that the body
is a finite mode of Extension, whose definiteness is
otherwise realised in the other aspect of the same thing,
that is, a finite mode of Thought. The two aspects are
absolutely inseparable, because they are finite modes of
co-existence and essentially related Attributes of the
divine Substance, or God.1
HOW the The next point we should notice is that the mind has
the body, no knowledge of the body except through mental ideas of
inconsistent bodily affections.2 This might seem a truism, were it not
riaiism. " that it used to be in effect denied by ' materialists.' For
in assuming that the mind is nothing but an undefined
order of molecular vibrations in the brain, they excluded
altogether, except as modes of motion, any 'ideas' of
bodily affections. Nor is the question merely one of
words, at least in the view of Spinoza. For according to
him every finite expression of the Attribute of Extension
has a corresponding finite expression under the Attribute
1 The inseparableness is even more apparent on Pollock's view,
because both body and soul are different finite modes of the same
Pro^'xix Attribute of Thought.
2 This word is to be understood as including all sense impressions or
internal feelings. Mr. Hale White and Miss Stirling in their excellent
translation prefer the word ' affect. ' This is marked as obsolete in the
New English Dictionary ; but that is of course no reason why it should
not be used for a special purpose. But since explanation is needed, it
seems just as convenient to use a familiar word with the understand
ing that it includes all possible mental impressions or feelings or efforts
whether usually classed as perceptions, emotions, thought or will. In
an analogous sense we use the word ' affections ' as applied to the body.
We include under the word all possible effects wrought on brain, nerve,
muscle, or other tissue.
THE NATUEE AND OBIGIN OF THE MIND 55
of Thought, and also innumerable other finite expressions Correlation
under the other countless Attributes of God unknown to sion and
TT-ri i ,1 r* -i • r Thought
us. What may be the finite expression 01 a tree or a with
mountain or a stone under the Attribute of Thought other
apart from man he does not expressly say, though Attr
it is everywhere implied that their ideas exist in
God. But if Professor Clifford's suggestion of the in- Bearing of
separability of matter and thought be adopted, we are 'mind-
able to apply to all creation Spinoza's theory of body and the theory.
mind. For he holds in effect that the human mind is
God thinking of the human body ; and if so, the element
ary thought of 'mind-stuff' which Clifford assumed to be
in all matter, is God thinking of that matter ; or to use
language more in accordance with Spinoza's phraseology,
it is the finite mode of the Attribute of Thought corre- All 'mind-
stuff' is a
sponding to the finite mode of the Attribute of Extension finite mode
of the
in the tree, mountain, or stone. It is well therefore to Attribute
remember that though Spinoza regarded mind and body °
as different aspects of the same thing, the mind was to
him the more easily realisable aspect.
At the same time he teaches (Prop, xxiii., Pt. n.) that
the mind does not know itself unless in as far as it is How the
mind
aware of the ideas of bodily affections. This is a doctrine knows
itself.
familiar both to metaphysicians and poets. Thus Tenny
son sings of the babe's progress : —
' The baby new to earth and sky,
What time his tender palm is prest
Against the circle of the breast
Has never thought that " this is I " :
* But as he grows he gathers much Tennyson's
And learns the use of " I " and " me," metaphysic
And finds " I am not what I see,
And other than the things I touch/' '
56 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
identified ^at *s> tne mind does not know itself unless in as
with far as it has the ideas of bodily affections. But we
Spinoza's.
must beware of thinking that such poetry or the
metaphysic underlying it is exactly the philosophy of
Spinoza. For, as we have seen, the latter would not
tolerate the notion of any other Substance than God;
and both body and mind were to him merely two finite
modes of divine Attributes so intimately correlated, that
whatever of the Being of God was expressed by one of
them was also expressed in another way by the second.
Here, however, we must pause for a moment to guard
The mind against other misunderstandings. For it might be
not neces- i j T\ n >
aariiycog- asked, Does Spinoza mean that the mind, being the
ail bodily b°dy in another aspect, has cognisance of all that goes
3nts- on in the body ? Have we any introspection of the
action of the arteries and veins, or of the cerebellum,
or of the grey matter and white matter of the brain ?
Of course, it never occurred to him that such an in
terpretation could be put upon his theory. In explain
ing why it did not occur to him, some reiteration is
inevitable and may well be excused. For though the
Master held that both body and mind were finite modes
of infinite Attributes of God, he also held that they
could not be isolated, but were links in an endless
series of causes and effects, all summed up in God.
Now, as we have already acknowledged, his doctrine of
'cause' is obsolete. But we must bear it in mind in
order to do him justice. For (Prop, ix., Pt. n.) he does
not look upon the Infinite as, so to speak, the im
mediate cause of the individual creature, but rather as
the cause of an infinite series of things following each
THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 57
other or connected with each other in eternal succession. Restate
ment of
Thus, the idea of the individual creature in actual exist- Spinoza's
ence has God for its cause, not in so far as He is infinite, individual
but in so far as He is affected (moved) by some other idea
of an individual thing actually existing, of which God also
is the cause in as far as He is affected by a third idea of an
individual thing ; and so on for ever. The language may
seem needlessly technical, though, of course, it is not so.
But it just amounts to this, that individual things are
not separate creations, but ' parts and proportions ' of an
unbeginniug and endless series, every member of which
is dependent on every other, while the sum is God.
But how does this bear upon the relation of body Bearing
and mind ? It bears upon it in this way — that the relations of
body is not an isolated group of phenomena whose career an
is rounded off by its own apparent inception and ter
mination. It is connected in both directions with an
unbeginning and interminable series of what we call
physical events, that is, successive modes of the Attri
bute of Extension. Such also is the case with the
mind under the Attribute of Thought and that Attri
bute's finite Modes. But it does not follow that the Does not
two are so related that every molecular movement in
the body corresponds to a definite wave of consciousness,
— or, to put it in the Master's way, calls up an idea in
the mind.1 The protozoa from which by a long course
1 Here I might pray in aid recent doctrines of sub-consciousness, to
the effect that there is a considerable field of mental life which calls
up no idea in the mind unless in exceptional circumstances. If that
be so— and I strongly incline to agree with the doctrine — Spinoza
may well have been more fully right than he could know in his day,
when he treated the body as 'the object' of the mind ; though it is
not everything in the body that becomes an object idea in the mind.
58 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
of evolution the tissues of the human body have been
evolved, had indeed 'mind-stuff' in Clifford's sense, and
therefore the rudiments of Spinoza's conception of the
relation between body and mind. But by slow evolution
the mental faculties have acquired a concentration and
intensity within, as it were, a particular area, outside
of and untouched by which lie the merely organic pro
cesses which are forms of the Attribute of Extension,
^us wn^e it remains true that the body is a finite
mentsare mode of Extension whose definiteness is otherwise
incompre
hensible realised in the finite mode of Thought constituting the
except as ° a °
links in an mind, the obscure processes of the body, links in an
endless . '
series, endless chain of previous and succeeding processes, are
not necessarily represented by ideas in the mind — that
is, are not normally a part of consciousness. At the
same time, they form no exception to Spinoza's principle
that every Mode of Extension is correlated to a Mode
of Thought. Because to the Infinite Mind every process
occurring within the Attribute of Extension is eternally
present. 'The ideas of the affections of the human
body in so far as they are related only to the human
mind, are not clear and distinct, but confused.' (Prop.
and such xxviii., Part n.) The reason given is that ' an adequate
an endless ' x
series can knowledge of external bodies and of the parts composing
present to the human body does not exist in God in so far as He
Thought, is considered as affected by the human mind, but in
so far as He is affected by other ideas.' That is, ex
ternal bodies and our own organism are links in an
endless series which cannot be present to a finite mode
of Thought, but only to the infinite Thought.
It is, of course, obvious that the same argument is
THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 59
applicable to the mind's knowledge of itself, a know- The
rr c argument
ledge which it owes to the body. And this Spinoza equally
fully allows. But at the same time he holds that we mind.
have a faculty for 'seeing Him who is invisible'; and Corel.,
that when this faculty is freely and fully exercised we
can see ourselves not as isolated links in an endless
series, but as essential components of an Eternal Life.
When that is achieved he dares to think that we know But there
ourselves as perfectly as we know God. We may not ledge that
all of us be able to adopt this confident tone. Yet I knowledge.
hope, when we have finished our study of the Ethics,
we shall feel that even for far humbler mortals than
the great Seer, there is ' a vision and a faculty divine '
by which we can realise and triumph in the Eternal
Life that breathes through us.
Should any one still think this clarity of religious con- Herbert
templation to be contrary to Herbert Spencer's doctrine again.
of the Unknowable as affording the true reconciliation
of Science and Religion, I can only ask him to have
patience, if possible, until the completion of the ex
position. Here I may only reiterate the remark that
the aims of the greater and the lesser philosopher are Difference
entirely different. For Spencer thought it necessary to from those
raise the question of an ultimate ' Actuality ' only so ° pm
far as to clear it out of the way before proceeding with
his synthetic doctrine of phenomenal evolution.1 To
1 This is made abundantly clear in the last two paragraphs of the
Postscript to Part i. of First Principles (Revised Edition, 1900).
Though he there insists emphatically that no agreement with his
doctrine of the Unknowable is in the least necessary to an apprecia
tion of his c orderly presentation of facts,' or treatment of phenomena,
he does not in any wise withdraw his proposed ' Reconciliation ' of
religion and science.
60 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Spinoza, on the other hand, the supreme object of con
templation was that very reality which Spencer regarded
as outside the scope of his main work. But the con
tradiction is more apparent than real. For Spinoza
nowhere treats human faculty as competent to under
stand how one infinite Eeality is constituted by the
apparent Many. He never supposes that the finite
mind can see, as God sees, all at once the innumerable
and endless series in which both mind and body are
But the Un- infinitesimal elements.1 For Spinoza, therefore, the re-
knowable
remains conciliation between religion and the science of his
Spinoza day lay also in a recognition of the Unknowable. His
than with sense of the unity of things is spiritual. For though
cer> in his strains of prophetic fervour he dwells on ' the
intellectual love of God/ it is clear to the sympathetic
reader that this intellectual love is the apotheosis, as it
were, of all purified faculties concentrated into an intuition
of the ultimate one Being, which our life in God enables
us to feel, but which our understanding can never grasp.
It remains true, therefore, that the ultimate constitution
of things, as an infinite number of unbeginning and
endless series, is unknowable. But it is also true that
we may have an intuition of a Unity which is God.
Need for The digression may be excused as an effort to keep
jfltettm of constantly in view the ulterior aim of the earlier books
-8 of the Ethics. The next point to be noted is that the
human mind is fitted for many perceptions (ad plurima
bodfly ° 1 See Pt. n., Prop. xxx. In this and the following proposition
movements. Spinoza speaks of our ignorance of the ' duration ' of finite things
including our own bodies. But the proofs seem to indicate that
existence in a particular mode is meant ; and what I have said in the
text is clearly implied.
THE NATUBE AND OEIGIN OF THE MIND 61
perripiendum, II., xiv.), and becomes the more fitted for
perception in proportion to the number of modes in
which the body can be disposed, If there is any
obscurity at all here it is caused by the technical mode
of stating a truth obvious to common - sense. For
without discussing the probability or otherwise of the
once notorious Kaspar Hauser's relation of his early Case of
experiences, it is certain that an infant recumbent in HaSser,
a fixed position with no object to gaze upon but the
roof of a shed, would, if he were so treated for eighteen
or twenty years, be an infant still. But the child of and of a
natural growth, who runs and leaps and climbs, who child,
listens and looks eagerly, who practises innumerable
movements of feet and fingers, all such actions being
correlated with vibrations of brain cells, must rapidly
multiply perceptions, and constantly increase their clear
ness. And this is practically what Spinoza means in
the proposition quoted.1
To this theory of the connection of bodily mobility The
with activity of mind, Spinoza leads up by a series of on biology.
interpolated 'lemmata/ or premisses, which, however,
in this case are not taken as granted, but proved after
his method — together with certain axioms. Both the
axioms and the lemmata curiously foreshadow Spencer's
fundamental principles of biology. But the Master
excuses himself from labouring the subject any farther
1 If the case of intelligent cripples or paralytics be thought incon
sistent with the above, it should be remembered that these have, for
the most part, had their time of mobility ; and besides, under move
ments of the body, Spinoza includes all tactile and visual impressions
of the social world, and likewise all molecular movements of the brain,
so far as these are correlated with thought.
62 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
than is absolutely necessary for his moral and religious
aim. For a similar reason, I pass on with the remark
that this dependence of the mind upon the multiplex
modifications of the body becomes ultimately the key
to Spinoza's theory of salvation as unfolded in his
concluding book.
Prop. xvii. An interesting but curious rather than convincing use
Impression .,._,..
made by or the lemmata is made in discussing the persistence of
tilings only impressions made through the senses, and their transfer-
movedby ence to imagination. With the interworking of the fluid
soft parts of the bodily tissues we need not in the
shutting present state of physiology trouble ourselves. But the
former! point is, that an impression once made may recur, though
the thing that made the impression is no longer present.
For example, a boy who has fraudulently enjoyed the
luscious fruit of a forbidden orchard, may find his mouth
water with desire for a repetition of the feast a week
afterwards when he is no longer in view of the trees.
Nor is there any remedy except some obvious penalty, or,
far better, some new and higher ideal of honourable
enjoyment, which shall eclipse and exclude the idea of
the fruit in the boy's mind. The application of this
principle to many other forms of temptation through
persistence of ideas is obvious. And whatever form of
religion we prefer, it remains equally true that the
covetous, the lustful, or the revengeful man is liable to be
haunted by fixed ideas, originally conveyed through the
senses and perpetually recurrent until some stronger
idea intervenes to exclude and cancel the evil thought.
Whether that stronger idea be an alleged revelation from
God, or the wrath of Allah, or the love of Christ, or the
THE NATUKE AND OBIGIN OF THE MIND 63
enhancement of Nirvana, the principle remains the
same.
The influence of impressions, whether for good or evil, Association
is enormously increased by the association of ideas,
according to which if the body has received two or more Prop, xviii.
impressions simultaneously at one period, one of these
impressions will at another period call up ideas correlated
with the whole group. Thus, a slave of drink, trying to
regain his liberty, if he happens to hear in another room
the popping of a cork, may have the memories of jovial
carousal so strongly revived that in the absence of any
stronger idea nothing will prevent his relapse. And
equally it is true that a young man away from home and
hesitating on the verge of vice, may be arrested and
recalled to virtue by a strain of music from a church
door, as the melody recalls the religious ideals cherished
in a home of purity and love.
The part assigned to it in the government of the Function of
knowledge
passions and the realisation of eternal lire, compels us to and its
~ . > -I , • PI varieties.
pay particular attention to Spinoza a doctrine of know
ledge. And for the practical purpose we have in view it
is better to discard the order of his propositions, and
have more regard to the needs of our own ordinary minds
than to the scientific precision of the philosopher.
According to him, knowledge is of three kinds, viz.:
1. That of unsystematised experience (expcrientia vaga),
including hearsay or unsystematised reading. 2. That of
reasoning or logic.1 3. That of direct intuition — or what
1 ' . . . ex eo quod notiones communes, rerumque proprietatum
ideas adcequatas habemus,' i.e. ' from our progressing common notions'
— common to our kind, a current coin of thought— 'and adequate
ideas of the properties of things.'
64 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
we might call knowledge at sight, only it is mental vision,
instancesof not physical, that is concerned.1 For illustrations of the
ent kinds, different kinds of knowledge we may with advantage
refer to the Essay on the Improvement of the Under
standing. There we find as instances of knowledge through
unsystematised experience, the information received from
a man's parents as to the day of his birth, and his con
viction that death awaits him like other men. Through
unsystematised experience he also knows that oil feeds a
flame while water puts it out ; that a dog is a barking
animal, and man rational — of course in the general sense
of possessing the elements of reason. To the second
kind of knowledge, which results from reasoning or logic,
he refers our conviction of our two-fold nature as body
and mind, though what sensation is, and what the union
of body and mind, we cannot say with any certainty.
We also know by reasoning from the nature of sight and
the diminution of apparent size by distance, that the sun
must be larger than it looks.
These instances are elementary. But it would not be
difficult to find many appropriate to the enormously
increased range of life and knowledge of which we are
conscious at the present day. For we may take it that
under the first head of unsystematised experience,
' Rule of Spinoza would have classed the ' rule of thumb ' methods
so dear to British handicraftsmen and manufacturers, as
' Muddling also the instinct of ' muddling through,1 generally recog-
through.'
nised as the distinctive glory of our arms. So, too, the
1 In the unfinished essay ' De Intellectus Emendatione,' knowledge
by hearsay or reading is kept as a kind separate from the knowledge
of unsystematised or unreasoned experience. But in the Ethics,
though the two are mentioned, they are classed together.
THE NATUKE AND OKIGIN OF THE MIND 65
practical man, who knows his way about in the business
world, and who after a very few years turns to gold
whatever he touches, has his knowledge through un-
systematised experience, of which he can give no intelli
gible account. It is to be feared also, that the knowledge
of most of our politicians is of the same kind, with the
result that reforms which reasoned experience might at
least hasten, are dragged out through many generations.
Of Spinoza's second kind of knowledge, ' reasoned c Reasoned t
experience,' l the whole range of modern science affords ex
an endless array of illustrations. For it is founded on
definite conceptions shared with our fellows concerning
the properties of things. For instance, if we may take
modern examples, the common notions which all educated
people possess of weight and mass and direct and inverse
proportion enable them to grasp the theory of gravitation Gravitation,
and its proofs, though not to say what gravitation is, that
is, whether pressure or pull, whether action at a distance
or not. So too, the possession of common notions and
definite perceptions of chemical combination have
through reasoned experience assured scientific men that Proportion-
affinities enable substances to combine only in definite Ration?1 *
and unvarying proportions. But whether that involves
the 'atomic' theory is altogether another question. It
will be observed that for this knowledge through
reasoned experience two conditions are needed: first, a
common fund of ideas (communes notiones) about the
order of the world — for instance, such facts as weight,
or the tendency of various substances to combine ; and,
1 The term is suggested by Sir F. Pollock's description of the first
kind as 'unreasoned experience.'
66 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
secondly, careful observation of a sufficient number of
particular cases (rcrum proprietatum ideas adccquatas).
Thus theories can be formed according to Spinoza's
dictum (Prop, xl., Pt. n.) that ' whatever ideas follow
in the mind from its adequate ideas, are themselves
adequate.'
Possible It may possibly be objected that my interpretation of
on account this theory of knowledge as applicable to modern times
of Spinoza's . .
definition of is unsatisfactory, because Spinoza means by 'adequate
idea's?^ ideas ' those ' which are in God, not in so far as He is
infinite, but in so far as He constitutes the essence of the
Answer: human mind.' But I must regard such an objection as
that tins is
atheoiogi- an instance of the theological misinterpretations of
terpreta? Spinoza, mentioned in the first words of this essay. For
the Master is not thinking of a personal Jehovah, or
Allah, or Brahma. What He means is that such ideas
have their legitimate and proper place in the mind as a
finite mode of the infinite Attribute of Thought. In
adequate ideas differ in this, that though they also are, of
course, finite Modes of the infinite Attribute of Thought,
they are in God, not merely as He constitutes the essence
of the human mind, but also in as far as, together with
the human mind He has the idea of some other thing (or
Witchcraft things). Thus, if we say that the believer in witchcraft
adequate had an inadequate idea of the influences which troubled
him, we mean, as I interpret the Master, that the idea
was in God, not only as He constitutes the essence of the
individual mind, but also as He has in view, if we may
so speak, the whole course of human evolution through
superstition and fear to a participation in the eternal life
and freedom of God. Hence confusion of thought on
THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 67
the earthly sphere, though in the heavens is unclouded
light.
The knowledge obtainable by such methods is neces- inadequate
sarily limited In fact, in many respects Spinoza is an suggest80
Agnostic. But the instances he gives are curious as contingency
illustrating his method. He tells us we can have only a
very inadequate idea of the duration of our own body, or
of any other individual things. This appears sufficiently
obvious. But he is not thinking of the uncertainties of
life or circumstance, but rather of the constitution of the
universe as an innumerable series of successions amongst
which we are apt to exaggerate our part. And the
eternal process of change, of which we can only have a
very inadequate conception, gives rise to the notion of
contingency and chance or corruption, neither of which
has any existence but in our inadequate ideas. For to
the infinite Thought, comprehending the Whole, there is
no contingency and no corruption.
But it is time now to turn to the third and highest
kind of knowledge, according to the Master's theory.
This is the knowledge given by direct vision, as when we Knowledge
look on a rose, and know that it is red, yellow, or white,
In the reception also of some moral truths, the process is
just as swift and clear ; which was surely the experience
of the common people of Galilee when they listened to
Jesus. For if they ' were astonished at His doctrine/ it
was certainly because it was so overwhelmingly plain.
Yet, as is too often the case, Spinoza the exact philoso
pher somewhat obscures Spinoza the brother of Jesus.
For the former tells us that 'this kind of knowledge
issues from an adequate idea of the real essence of some
• 68 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
of the divine Attributes, and results in an adequate know
ledge of the essence of things.' l
Spinoza's Before trying to show the practical bearing of this
by a self- abstract statement, let me add Spinoza's solitary illustra-
evident
case of pro- tion.
portion.
1 Here are given for example three numbers for the pur
pose of finding a fourth, which shall be to the third as the
second to the first. Tradesmen without hesitation multiply
the second by the third, and divide the product by the first ;
of course, because they have not forgotten the rote-lessons
they once received without any proof from the schoolmaster ;
or else because they have tried the operation often on the
simplest numbers ; or again they do it by virtue of the proof
of Euclid, Prop, xix., lib. 7, that is, according to the common
property of proportionals. But in the simplest numbers
there is no need of anything of the kind. For example, the
numbers 1, 2, and 3 being given, no one could fail to see
that the fourth proportional number is 6 ; and this the
more clearly because from the ratio itself, which, with one
glance we see to be borne by the first to the second, we
infer the fourth.'
Probable Here the Attribute, of whose real essence we are supposed
tkm.an' to have an adequate idea, is Extension. Of Extension
motion is an infinite Mode. And from motion are de
rived the ideas of apparent division, measurement, and
number. Thus, according to Spinoza, it is our adequate
idea of the essence of Extension which enables us to see
at a glance that six is to three as two is to one, It
Needs would surely be a waste of time to discuss intuition from
?> such a point of view. For my part, I believe the great
thinker to be right, But looking at things as we needs
1 The translation is free, but I think gives the meaning. (Part IL,
Prop, xl., Sohol. 2.)
THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 69
must, in the mood of the present age, we do not find his
illustration carries us very far toward an appreciation of
the higher functions of intuition in the spiritual life.
What he really means is, that if we see things as God The real
J m meaning
sees them, we see them truly.1 But then, what is meant is seeing
by seeino- things as God sees them ? With inevitable God sees
, . , ., them.
iteration I reply that it means having an idea just as it
exists in God so far as He constitutes the essence of the
human mind and nothing else. If there be any difficulty Reason for
failure to
here, it is caused by the inveterate tendency or mono- apprehend
theism to think of God as the greatest among beings th
instead of regarding Him as the only Being. The former
view separates Him from the world and man, so that
when we talk of seeing things as God sees them, we
think of two minds and a parallelism of thought between
them. That, however, is not Spinoza's doctrine at all.
For him the human mind is God, at least in the sense Man not
that it is constituted by a Mode of a divine Attribute, from God,
And if probably even Spinoza would have regarded it as carnation.
a harsh expression to say that the human mind is God,
it could only be in the same sense in which St. Paul con
sidered it absurd to suppose an eye constituting the
whole body. But Spinoza had no notion of an infinite
Mind away in heaven thinking things, and of the human
mind responding. His idea was that of One infinite and Seeing
things as
eternal substance, expressing its essence in many ways, God sees
of which the human mind is one. Now when this
mysterious, finite expression of God keeps, so to speak,
to its part and proportion in the universal harmony,
it sees things as God sees them, that is, it keeps within
1 See Demonstration of Prop, xxxiv.
70 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
the finite Mode proper to it according to the scale of the
infinite life. Then it has ' adequate ideas' — not infinite,
of course, but exactly fitting its place in the eternal life.
And this is the case with us — as afterwards appears in
the Fifth Book — so long as we can keep ourselves within
the rule of reasoned experience, or by insight have clear
ideas of truth, and duty, and right.
inadequate But now let us take a different case. This mysterious
finite expression of God, the individual mind of John
Smith struggling to exceed its part and proportion in the
universal harmony, is vexed that it does not accomplish
all its desires or receive its deserts according to its own
their effect conceit thereof. It notices also that many others think
on our view .
of the themselves in the same plight, and thereupon feels
strongly inclined to take the bitter advice of Job's wife.
Pessimism Hence pessimistic philosophy, bitterness of soul, and
and super-
naturalism, presumptuous or even blasphemous charges against the
order of the world. Hence, also, feeble-minded sugges
tions of pious remedies for God's mistakes, by the
supposition of a non-natural annex, outside the known
universe, and divided into Heaven and Hell, where God's
actual arrangements, as we know them, shall give place
to the better ideals of the good creatures whom the
Eternal has hitherto wronged.1 Any such mind has,
1 The description has no application to the great prophets and
apostles who fitted their place in the due order of religious evolution.
For they were reverent and submissive to what appeared to them
the undeniable work of the Eternal. (Cf. Rom. ix. 19-20.) Those,
however, upon whom a new revelation has forced palpable facts, but
who, notwithstanding, persist in declaring that they will not have
God's universe as it is — while, for certain reasons, they may well
claim sympathy—can scarcely be religious in St. Paul's sense.
THE NATUKE AND OEIGIN OF THE MIND 71
according to the Master, an inadequate idea, or rather
many inadequate ideas, of the relation of self to the
Eternal. Because, in exceeding their proper bounds by
vain desire, sentiment, or greed, they travesty the idea
existing in God, ' not only so far as He constitutes the
nature of the human mind, but so far as together with
the nature of the human mind he has the idea of another
thing' — or of an infinite series of things. That is to say,
the infinite series of which the mind of John Smith forms
an infinitesimal, though necessary link, is expressed per
fectly in the infinite Attribute of Thought, but very
inadequately indeed in the finite expression of that
Attribute in the mind of John Smith. And when John
Smith forgets that, he necessarily has inadequate ideas.
In the light of such reflections I interpret Spinoza's Truth and
falsehood,
doctrine of truth and falsehood. Obviously, if we have
an idea as God has it — to use human language — then it
is true. But that happens only when the idea does not
go beyond the finite mode of the infinite Attribute of
Thought. For example, the idea of the redness of a in matters
of percep-
certain rose is true because it is the form inevitably tion,
taken in the particular finite mind by divine thought,
and not extending beyond that mind. But the idea of
the nature and cause of colour and the spectrum is a very in theory,
different thing. There we intrude upon divine thought
as thinking colour, and ether and motion and an endless
series of linked causes. Here, whatever surprising dis
coveries we may make, our idea remains and must for
ever remain ' inadequate.' In morals again, there are in moral
judgment.
cases in which our judgment is self-evidently true, be
cause it falls precisely within the finite expression of the
72 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
infinite Attribute of Thought, and does not exceed. For
instance, Nathan's condemnation of David for his sin
against Uriah is of this nature. For here the human
relations concerned are as clear and as much within the
scope of the finite man as the colour of a rose. But if
we go farther and accuse the Eternal because such crimes
are allowed, and continually occur, then we question an
action or procedure of God, not only so far as He con
stitutes the nature of the human mind — which condemns
the crime 1 — but so far as together with the human mind
He has an idea of another thing — or many other things ;
that is, once more, of the whole course of evolution, or of
all the infinite series which constitute the totality of
Being. Hence our idea is necessarily inadequate and
confused.
Falsehood Our judgment in this latter case — our accusation of
but nega- God — will be false ; but false, not because of any positive
tive, arising
from actual affirmation, as, for instance, that David s crime is repug-
ignorancery nant within any range of human relations realisable by
essential us- Bather, it is false by defect of knowledge, because
elements. WQ canno^ conceive the infinity of the series of interlaced
events which make up the Whole of Being, a series in
which David's crime finds its place without in the
slightest degree marring the harmony of the Whole. To
Nathan and the righteous onlookers in Jerusalem, it
appears indeed, and rightly, a terrible catastrophe. But
on the infinite scale it disappears, or is a link in the
1 It should be borne in mind that, according to Spinoza, God does
not condemn, any more than He hates or grieves. But the phrases,
when used in popular language, express, so far as they are accurate,
the working of secondary causes, or, as we should say, finite links in
an infinite series of events.
THE NATUEE AND OEIGIN OF THE MIND 73
completeness of the Whole. The prophet spoke a far
profounder truth than he knew, when he said, ' The Lord
hath put away thy sin.'
' Men are deceived,' says Spinoza, * when they think Fallacy of
i P 1-1 , i , 1 e j. uncaused
themselves free ; which opinion rests only on the tact tnat wiii.
while they are conscious of their actions, they are ignorant
of the causes by which those actions are determined. This
therefore constitutes their notion of freedom; that they
should know no cause of their actions. For when they say
that human actions depend on the will, these are (mere)
words without significance (quorum nullam habent ideam).
For what the will may be, and how it may move the body,
they none of them can tell. As to those who pretend other
wise and imagine a local habitation for the soul, they usually
excite ridicule or repulsion.'1
Having dealt with the negative character of false- A clear and
distinct
hood, Spinoza maintains that he who has a true idea, couscious-
knows that he has it, and cannot doubt of its truth. Of truth is
course, at first sight this is open to much misinterpreta
tion, as it might seem to include the self-confident
assertions or negations of ignorance. A pious anti-
Eomanist is sure that a plague of cholera or smallpox
is a visitation of the divine wrath upon ritualism, and
proves his case by a plausible concurrence of dates at
which the ritualistic practices began and the plague
appeared. Surely this man knows — or thinks he knows
— that he has a true idea, of which he finds it impossible
to doubt. But when it is said such a man finds it im- distinct
possible to doubt, what is meant is that his prejudice and judice.
1 ii., xxxv., Schol. The above quotation is given here solely as the
Master's illustration of the negative character of falsehood. In its
other bearings, as for instance on moral responsibility, I deal with it
elsewhere.
74 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
self-will hamper him. It cannot be for a moment
maintained that even to him the contrary is unthinkable,
or that the notion of a coincidence, without any casual
connection between the two things, is a contradiction in
terms. So that Sir Frederick Pollock, in my view,
interprets the Master rightly when he says that Spinoza's
Coincidence test of truth is practically identical with that of Herbert
Spencer's Spencer, which is the unthinkableness of the contrary.
truth. But the great Pantheist invests this test with a sanctity
wanting to the modern Philosopher. For he says that
our mind, inasmuch as it receives things truly, is part
of the infinite intellect of God; and it is just as inevit
able that the clear and distinct ideas of the mind should
But with a be true, as that the ideas of God should be so. Here
religious
sanction, again we are not to think of a supernatural Mind away
in Heaven, to whose thoughts our true thoughts are
parallel. But our minds are — if we may use the phrase
— constituent elements of God, and, so far as our thoughts
are the finite Modes of the infinite Attribute of Thought
constituting our minds and nothing else, they are true.
Necessity In entire consistency with his fundamental faith in the
Eternity, identity of God and the Universe, Spinoza concludes the
Second Part of his Ethics with propositions concerning
Necessity, Eternity, and Will such as in many readers
excite a revulsion of feeling only to be removed by his
concluding Part, on the Freedom of Man. Nevertheless,
notwithstanding my own personal experience of the moral
difficulties occasioned by these propositions, I think it
better to give my paraphrase of their essential contents,
without any attempt to forestall the Fifth Book, but with
the hope that any who have read thus far will have the
THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 75
patience to read on. For assuredly the last Part gives
the key to the religion of the future.
He tells us then l that to the eye of Reason— which
alone sees truly — there is no such thing as contingency, no con-
•' tmgency.
or chance ; but all individual things or events follow each
other in necessary sequence. Of course, 'under the
aspect of eternity/ they co-exist. And if we were capable
of seeing the whole Universe under that aspect, there
would be no room for argument. But we are not capable
of such a vision, and are, for the most part, compelled
therefore to contemplate things under the finite aspect
of time or succession. A scholium is added to explain HOW the
-T-, . . , . -, illusion of
how the illusion of contingency arises. But this we need contingency
only touch upon. For Spinoza's own intellectual vision ar
was so clear that he does not seem to have realised the
need of ordinary minds for ample illustration ; and when
reading page after page of compressed utterances, preg
nant with the truths of infinite Being, we cannot repress
an occasional irreverent interruption from the humble
but immortal Touchstone, who mutters, ' Instance, Shep
herd, instance!' In the present case, however, he
supposes a boy on one particular day to see Peter in the
morning, Paul at noon, and Simeon in the evening.
Then, if next morning he sees Peter again, he will by
association of ideas expect Paul at noon and Simeon in
the evening. This association will be constant in pro- it is caused
portion to the regularity with which he sees these men iterance
in this order. But if, on some evening, James should ° causes>
1 Prop. xliv. Like all students of Spinoza, I am immensely
indebted to Sir Frederick Pollock's luminous monograph, and on
this particular point my indebtedness is, if possible, greater than
usual.
76 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
appear in place of Simeon, the boy will, on the next
morning, be uncertain whether in the coming evening he
should look for James or Simeon. The reasons actuating
the men are unchanged, and the order in which they will
appear, though variable, is, in itself, as certain as before,
but the boy no longer knows that order, and therefore
will think it a matter of chance.
Case of But other instances coming more nearly home to the
rising stars.
modern mind suggest perhaps more forcibly to us that
sequences which reflection teaches us to be indubitably
certain are treated as contingent when we do not know
their causes. Thus, two people, having noticed the
morning and evening stars at various times, but pos
sessing no astronomical knowledge, will dispute, in the
absence of an almanac, as to which planets will be
morning stars next month ; and the dispute will grow so
keen that they may even make a bet on the event. I. do
not forget that each disputant knows the event to be
fixed from eternity. But this makes the illustration all
the more apt. For it shows clearly how ignorance may
create a frame of mind which very vividly simulates
contingency, where it is allowed that none exists. So in
a horse-race the event is already decided when the horses
come to the starting-post. For the speed and endurance
of each animal, together with the skill of the rider, are
all fixed quantities. And as to the accidents which so
frequently deceive the most knowing, a fall for instance
or a foul, or temper in a horse, no one can possibly doubt
that these all belong to physical sequences — even the
horse's temper — which are as sure as the succession of
the morning stars. Yet, because the sequences are not
THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 77
known beforehand, they are treated as contingent, and
the excitement of betting-men grows wilder and wilder
to the last moment of the uncertainty caused by
ignorance.
One of the most curious cases of this simulation of Election
, . . . , , excitement
uncertainty where none exists is perhaps our treatment before the
of already past events. Watch a group of eager poU-
ticians waiting in their club for the telegraphic announce
ment of the poll in an already decided election. In the
eager excitement with which they discuss the probabili
ties, they show almost the agonising suspense of a race
course madman, as he watches the horse that is carrying
fortune or ruin for him. Nay, up to the last moments
before the fatal click of the tape-machine is heard, the
arguments as to the strength of local parties, and the
popularity of candidates, will grow hotter ; and bets on
the result will be offered and accepted. It is impossible
to deny that in this case, as in that of the horse-race, all
the excitement and even the passions associated with
interests staked on what is called { chance ' are present,
notwithstanding the concealed certainty of the event.
Nay, we may cite as witnesses to a universal subcon
scious sense of the unreality of contingency the victims
of the gaming-table, who so often have a ' plan ' that is
certain to succeed if only they can hold out long enough.
For what is their reliance on the ' plan ' but an acknow
ledgment that even in what are by pre-eminence called
' games of chance,' the sequences are certain ? Here
again it is only in human ignorance, and not in events
themselves that contingency exists. This might be
remembered with advantage, when we are told that
78
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
and eternal
life.
the theories of Spinoza would rob life of all its
interest.
Eternity Again, as the eye of Keason discerns this certainty of
succession in all things — though, as admitted, it discovers
only in exceptional cases the individual links of sequence
— it must needs view the Universe under the aspect of
eternity. For the certainty of apparent succession is —
in human language — a ' law ' of the divine nature. That
is, since God is identical with the Universe, things are
as they are on the scale of the Whole, because God is as
He is. Whoever, therefore, realises the successions in his
own consciousness as links in an unbeginning and endless
series, ' lays hold on eternal life/ because he feels himself
part of That which, ' as it was in the beginning, is now,
and ever shall be, world without end.' The detachment
of such a sense of eternal life from the lower craving for
personal immortality is best considered elsewhere.
It seems more difficult to follow the Master when he
insists that our knowledge of the eternal and infinite
perfect essence of God, which every idea involves, is ' adequate
o?God/ge an(i perfect.' Spinoza, however, himself relieves us of
part of our difficulty, when (Prop, xlvil, Schol.) he
explains that we cannot expect our knowledge of God to
be as lucid (clarum) as our knowledge of finite notions
common to all men, such as weight, number, colour, heat,
and so on. This is because men are unable to picture
G-od — that is, the totality of Being — as they can finite
bodies ; and also because they have associated the name
' God ' with the forms of things they are accustomed to
see. Surely this is obvious. For if men during a hundred
generations were in the habit of associating the name ' god '
What is
meant by
the 'ade
quate and
THE NATUKE AND OKIGIN OF THE MIND 79
with thunder or storm, or heavenly bodies, or trans
figured men, it is very difficult indeed for the more
highly developed generations succeeding them to wrench
the name from such narrow associations, and iden
tify it with the infinite Whole. Such a transference
is quite irreconcilable with the narrow definiteness of
notion which every mere idolater and sectary has
associated with his particular god. And it is this in
veterate prejudice, assuming God to be outside or inside
of the Universe, but never as identical with it, which
constitutes still an apparently insuperable obstacle to the
spread of more spiritual religion. But I do not think
that Spinoza intended to set us the impossible task
of knowing the Unknowable 'in the strict sense of
knowing.' For, as we have seen, he admits the impossi
bility of a clear idea of the whole Living Universe. It
appears rather that when he insists that in the recog- •
nition of the Eternal Life we have an 'adequate and
perfect ' idea of God, he means that the negation of that
Eternal Life is unthinkable. Tennyson, perhaps, sang
more wisely than he thought in the words :
' My own dim life might teach me this,
That life shall live for evermore.'
For, as we have seen (p. 7), any existence at all implies
infinite Being ; and it is in this sense only that we have
an adequate and perfect idea of God ; that is, His non-
existence in Spinoza's sense of the name God, cannot be
thought.
It is of course in entire consistency with all the fore- NO un-
going that the Book concludes with a denial of any such
80 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
thing as uncaused Will. For the mind, as the Master
says, is a finite mode of the Attribute of Thought, and is
therefore a link in an endless series of (so-called) cause
and effect. In fact, he denies that there is any such
faculty as will, except as a conventional generalisation
of individual mental acts. If we like to call the general
quality of stones, stoniness, we may do so. But we know
very well that there is no such thing apart from separate
and individual stones. So also of will ; there is no such
thing except as a conventional expression for an indefinite
number of separate decisions.
Doctrine of I do not think it needful to discuss Spinoza's identi-
fication of these decisions with affirmation or negation.
In fact> ifc would seem only to express in another form
present OUr Spinoza's doctrine that an individual act of what we call
purpose. win js khe resultant of all the forces or influences im
pelling the mind this way or that ; and that freedom is
realised when all, or the decisive determining influences
rise from within, while compulsion is felt when all, or the
decisive influences press on us from without.
Spinoza's Spinoza concludes his Book on the Origin and Nature
of the of the Mind with a summary of the practical bearing of
his teaching on human life.
1 Finally, it remains to show of how much practical value
a recognition of this teaching is to daily life, as we shall
his doc- easily discern if we note the following points. To wit : —
' I. It instructs us that we act entirely at the beck (nutu) of
God, and are partakers of the divine nature : all the more so l
1 Of course, two difficulties recur : (1) As to the place of responsi
bility ; (2) as to the possibility of ' more ' or ' less ' in partaking of the
divine nature, if God is all in all. For (1) see p. 45 n. As to (2) we
can only suppose that Spinoza refers to more or less God-consciousness.
But it is premature to judge of either till we have studied Part v.
THE NATUEE AND OEIGIN OE THE MIND 81
in proportion as our doings become more perfect, and we
understand God more and more. This doctrine, therefore, It shows
in addition to the all-pervading peace it gives to the mind, blessedness
has also this distinction, that it shows us in what our supreme consists,
felicity or blessedness consists, that is, exclusively in the
knowledge of God, by which knowledge we are attracted to
do only those things which love and piety suggest. Hence
we perceive clearly how far they err from a true apprecia
tion of virtue who, for virtue and noble deeds, as though
these were utter drudgery, look to be honoured by God
with richest rewards. Just as though virtue itself and
drudgery for God were not itself felicity and supreme
liberty !
' II. It shows us how to bear ourselves in regard to matters ?JjJ|es us
of fortune which are not within our own control, or events square to
which do not result from our own nature ; that is, we
are enabled to look for and bear either aspect of fortune time.'
with an even mind ; and this because all things follow from
God's eternal fiat by the same kind of necessity as that by
which it follows from the essence of a triangle that its three
angles are equal to three right angles.
' III. This teaching is advantageous to social life, inasmuch In social
as it instructs us to regard none with hatred, to scorn no one, teaches
to mock no one, neither to be angry with, nor to envy any. tolerance
Farther, it teaches that each of us should be content with his tentment.
own lot, and should be obliging to his neighbour, not from
effeminate pity, favouritism, or superstition, but solely under
the impulse of Keason, according to the demands of time and
occasion, as I will show in Part ill.
* IV. Lastly, this teaching offers no small benefit to social Ite political
order, inasmuch as it instructs us on what principle citizens
are to be governed and led, not as slaves ; but so that they
may do freely what is best.
' And so I have fulfilled the purpose I had before me in
this Scholium, and thus I bring to an end our Second
Part: in which I think I have expounded at sufficient
length, and with as much clearness as the difficulty of the
F
82 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
matter allows, the nature and powers of the human mind,
while I have uttered such principles as enable us to infer
many glorious truths of the highest utility, and needful
to be known ; as will in some measure be made evident by
what follows.'
PAET III
THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS
THE English word ' affection/ when used as a rendering Meaning of
of Spinoza's Latin affectus, is so liable to be misunder- ' affections/
stood, that, as previously noted, Mr. Hale White and
Miss Stirling have in their translation revived the
obsolete substantive 'affect.' But the addition of the
epithet 'mental,' as above, seems a sufficient guarantee
for a right understanding, especially if we accept the
authority of the New English Dictionary, where, with New
sufficient quotations to justify the view taken, the Dictionary.
' general and literal ' meaning of the word ' affection ' is
given as ' the action of affecting, acting upon or influenc
ing ; or (when viewed passively) the fact of being
affected.' In reference to the mind, the word means,
according to the same authority, ' a mental state brought
about by any influence.' This latter seems to me to be
precisely equivalent to Spinoza's affectus. It is true, Our under-
indeed, that in regard to appetite and pleasurable excite-
ment, Spinoza joins the body with the mind as the sub-
ject of affectus. But we should remember that to him S
body and mind were different aspects of the same thing.1
, a. . affections.
Strictly speaking, finite modes of two infinite Attributes express
ing the one divine Substance.
83
84 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Besides, in the cases just now mentioned, the body is
brought in because it suggests the origin of the affection.
But it is obvious throughout the book that the real topic
is mental affections. Let it be borne in mind then, that
by mental affections we mean any ' mental state brought
about by any influence other than Keason.' l
An all-important indication of the purpose of this
section of the great work is given in the preface, where a
Man not protest is uttered against any attempt to place man out-
orderlofthe side the order of Nature. Of those who insist on this he
Nature. says, ' they believe that man disturbs the order of Nature
instead of following it, and is determined by no other
power than himself.' But prophet though he was, the
Master could not possibly have foreseen the curiously
perverse application sometimes made of this false doc-
Tendency trine in our time. For it is too common to read in the
somite a writings of the expiring sect of materialists, unmeasured
exaltation a^use of the order of the world, together with eloquent
agahSt the exaltations of the creature man whom this botched world
Universe. h&s managed to produce. While that homely Hebrew
philosopher, Agur, the son of Jakeh, loved the wonder
excited by ' the way of an eagle in the air, the way of a
serpent on a rock, and the way of a man with a maid/
these pessimistic critics of Nature and idolaters of Man
are more fascinated by the way of a cat with a mouse, or
of a lion with an antelope, or the way of the whirlwind and
the storm. Such morbid ponderers of Nature's riddles
cannot, like the foolish king, express a wish that they
1 For further justification I may refer to the € General Definition of
the Affections' at the close of this Part, where, while the unity of
body and mind is strictly preserved, every affection is an Animi
Palhema.
THE NATUEE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 85
had been present at the creation of the world to warn
the bunding opifex deus of the mischiefs he was brew- An Aloeical
8 * ** position for
ing. For. to do them justice, they do not believe in those who
deny
creation, an unbelief, which, so far as it goes, is certainly creation.
a sign of grace. Because it ought to dispose them to a For the
, . absence of
recognition of the certain truth that eternal self-existence creation
implies perfection. But the strange thing is, that looking eternal and
on the Universe as an infinite muddle endowed with a
paradoxical faculty of keeping discordant and mutually existence-
destructive parts in co-existence through eternity, they
yet believe that this monstrous chimaera has begotten
and brought forth a being gifted with faculties of orderly
thought, sympathetic feeling, and ideal aspiration, such
as erect him into the only god known, and lift him to
the judgment-seat from which he can condemn and curse
all that has made him what he is.
Now, since every modern thinker agrees that what
used to be called ' chance ' is out of the question as a
world-forming or world-maintaining principle (apx^j), it
surely follows that, whether without or within the mass
of existence, there must have been some energy guiding
things along the lines they have taken in the course of
evolution.1 True, the unfolding which we call evolution incongru
ity of such
can only be observed by us in an infinitesimal part of the a Weitan-
infinite Whole — infinitesimal even though we include in
the sweep of our telescopes galaxies beyond all mortal
conceptions of distance. For beyond every bound of our For it
contemplations, the circumference of the ' well-rounded disorder,
whereas
evolution
1 The argument here is from the point of view of time, or temporal involves
succession. How this point of view is changed by an appreciation of
eternity will be seen in Part V.
86 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
sphere ' l to which Xenophanes and Parmenides likened
the Whole of Being, is still infinitely distant. Yet if
there is a Universe, a unity of things, we may confidently
claim, within obvious limits of reverence and common-
sense, to judge the Whole on the analogy of a part. At
least we may presume congruity, if only we had eyes
to see.
Granting this, then if evolution and devolution are
proceeding everywhere with the self-consistency which
we call order, the eternal process involves, as we have
said, some energy compelling things along the lines of
if the change which we see or infer. This energy is either
evolution inherent in the Universe itself, that is, in every part of
outsicKTthe ^ ; or it is something other than the Universe. Which
latter yiew nas been an^ is earnestly maintained by those
maice it a wno ^hjnk the monotheism of the latest Jewish prophets
to be in some transmuted shape essential to morality.
That, however, is not the opinion of those materialists
who imagine the Universe to have produced in man
something better than itself. They sometimes speak of
themselves as Agnostics, who do not know whether the
energy of evolution is outside the world or within it.
incongru- But if they allow even the possibility that the driving
hypothesis power of evolution is some outside Being, then their
fact of16 criticism of his works makes him a Devil rather than a
existence. God. And how a Devil could produce a creature able to
think of him justly and call him by his right name, is a
problem which surely belongs not to the unknowable,
but to the unthinkable.
v CVKIJK\OV <T(paipr)s fvaKlyKiov 8yK(pt line 101 in Karsten's
Fragments of Parmenides.
THE NATUKE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 87
On the other hand, if there is no Power of evolution if the
energy of
outside the Universe, but the Universe itself is instinct evolution is
everywhere,
with that energy throughout and in all its parts, is it not we are
just possible that critics of its infinite series of succes- judging the
, . , n ,, . . I. whole from
sions judge things too exclusively from their own indi- a part.
vidual point of view, forgetting the utter unimportance of
this on the scale of infinity ? In contemplating evolution
their eyes are fixed with horror on the darker phases — as
they think them — of its line of advance through the
' struggle for existence,' through ' dragons of the prime,'
through carnivorous monsters, through fire and earth
quake, through battle, murder, and sudden death; and
because these phases, irrationally separated from the
Whole which they subserve, are repulsive to the indi
vidual also irrationally detached from the Whole, such
critics are moved to scold at Nature. But do these view taken
pessimists attach a like importance to individual creature seives of
interests where the security of human society, or their interests '
own personal safety, or even ' sport ' is concerned ?
Which of them laments that wolves have been exter
minated in this country, or is perturbed by the process by
which their destruction was achieved ? Which of them
when, by an artful cast of a fly, he lures a salmon to
its death, feels anything but pleasure in his own skill ?
Yet vermin, and beasts of prey and creatures of ' sport,'
have each one of them individual interests of their own
which they strive eagerly to maintain. And if it be said
that such lower individual interests ought not to prevail May be
applied to
against the higher and wider interests ot the superior our own on
, . , , „ the scale of
creature, man, surely it is obvious that on the scale of infinity.
infinity, the same argument may be applicable to the
88 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
individual interests of the higher creature. I am not
suggesting that there are greater personal beings, or one
supreme person, to whose higher claims the individual
man must subordinate himself. I mean only that by his
essential existence as an infinitesimal part of an infinite
Whole man is bound not to strive beyond his place, but
to take submissively his share of expansion and repres
sion amid the everlasting flow and counterflow of the
currents of evolution.
But if it be said that all this is only a re-statement of
the evil of the world, a burden to every sympathetic
heart watching the struggle for existence arid forced to
take its part therein, we can only fall back on our funda-
The world mental position, that the world does not exist for the
individual, individual, but the individual for the world. And he
dividualfor who will not loyally accept this truth must needs fret
away his life like Hamlet, under ' a foul and pestilential
congregation of vapours.'
Spinoza teaches a healthier faith, insisting that —
No vice in ' Nothing happens in Nature which can be attributed to
Nature. any yjce Q£ Nature. For Nature is always the same, and
everywhere and always her efficiency 1 and power of action
are the same. That is, the laws and rules of Nature, accord
ing to which all things have existence and are changed from
one set of forms to another, are everywhere and always the
same ; and therefore there ought to be one and the same
method of understanding the nature of all things whatsoever,
I mean through the universal laws and rules of Nature.
Thus the affections of hatred, anger, envy and so on, when
studied in themselves, follow by the same necessity and force
of Nature as the rest of single phenomena. And accordingly
1 Virtus, a word scarcely to be rendered by ' virtue ' here, nor yet
by 'valour.' Efficiency seems to come nearest to the meaning.
THE NATURE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 89
they imply certain causes through which they are understood,
and they have certain characteristics,1 just as much worth our
study as the characteristics of anything else which delights
us by its mere contemplation.'
The definitions, axioms, and propositions of Part III. Rest of
form a practical application of the foregoing prefatory practical
observations with a view to the ulterior moral results to Of the fore-
be worked out in Part v. But should it occur to any
one that moral teaching and exhortation can be of no use
if the * force and necessity of Nature are always and results>
everywhere the same/ let such an one remember that
moral teaching and exhortation are also essential elements
in that ' force and necessity.' The most stirring and Fallacy
potent ' revivalist ' of morals or religion, or of both, does supposed
but bring to bear upon the objects of his prophetic work
certain forces that range the world of man, whether they tion and
be called ' the power of the Holy Ghost' or 'the powers
of the world to come/ or 'personal magnetism.' And
when these forces so work within the individual hearer
that the resultant of all impulses within him is a change
from vice to virtue, the subject of these influences realises
a freedom that he never knew before, because he is now
no longer in bondage to external provocatives of passion.
This, as Spinoza insists, is true freedom ; but it is given
and it is maintained in accordance with ' the force and
necessity of Nature.' Surely it ought to be no discour
agement to our moral efforts that they must be made in
accordance with eternal law, any more than the same
consideration deprives of interest a great engineering
work. ' No, of course not ! ' say the advocates of uncaused
1 Proprietaries.
90 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
volitions, ' but in both cases the beginning of the work is
spontaneous.' That is, as I understand, the impulse to
begin arises in the originator free of any felt compulsion
from without. This is readily granted ; for it is precisely
Spinoza's doctrine of liberty. But, all the same, though
the mind is as unconscious of the fact, as it is of the
antecedents of the particles forming its body, that internal
impulse has an eternal history developed by the ' force
and necessity of Nature.'
Such explanations may be of service in enabling us to
abbreviate very considerably our paraphrase of Part in.
Some By an ' adequate cause ' the Master means a cause of
which the effect can be clearly and distinctly grasped
without reference to anything but that particular cause.1
An inadequate or partial cause is one of which the effect
cannot be understood through that cause alone. Perhaps
one may venture to illustrate this. If I put my hand
Adequate into a fire and am painfully burned, I need no other
adequate explanation than the heat of the fire. Of my feeling —
though not of my action — the fire is an ' adequate cause.'
But if metal-workers — as we are told that they can do
with impunity — dip their hands into molten iron for a
second, and experience only a pleasant, ' velvety ' warmth,
the effect cannot be understood through the molten metal
alone. But considerations of skin moisture arise, and the
intervention of a protective vapour. Here the molten
metal is an ' inadequate cause.'
1 It may be necessary to remind the reader that this notion of a
particular cause is open to destructive criticism. In each case the
'cause' is the whole of Being, in its eternal energy. Spinoza's 'ade
quate cause ' is really that particular link in the eternal chain which
fixes the attention of consciousness because it seems proximate.
THE NATUKE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 91
The purpose of the above definitions is immediately
apparent. ' I say that we act ' — or are agents — ' when
anything is done within us or without, of which we are we are
J active ; as
the adequate cause ; that is (by the preceding definition), inadequate,
when from our nature anything follows within us or
without, which through that nature alone can be clearly
and distinctly understood. On the other hand, I say that
we are passive when anything is done within us or any
thing follows' — or is occasioned by — 'our nature, of
which we are only in part the cause.' Here again,
perhaps, we may venture to illustrate. If a labouring
man stops on his way home to buy a bunch of flowers or
a present of fruit and takes it home to his wife, he is ' the
adequate cause ' of his wife's pleasure, and is a free agent,
because what happens both within him and at his home
follows entirely from his nature. But if instead of going
into a flower- and a fruit-shop, he turns into a public-
house, and is plied with drink till he is 'not himself,' and
if in the sequel he goes home to abuse his wife and
assault her, he is not in this case an ' adequate cause.'
The evil procedure and actions cannot be clearly and dis
tinctly understood through his nature. For the normal
working of his nature is perverted by social custom and
alcohol. He is not a free agent therefore. That is, he
does not act, but suffers.1
The affections or impressions discussed in this Third Definition
Part include everything by which the body's power of tions.
action is helped or hindered, together with the ideas
1 Once more a warning against illegitimate inferences. It does not
follow that because he is not an 'adequate cause,' therefore he is not
to be blamed. Blame and punishment are resources of this ' force and
necessity of Nature' for turning inadequate into adequate causes.
92 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
thereof. Now manifestly the last words here are most
important. For though according to the Master, man is
a finite mode of two Attributes, Extension and Thought,
it is by Thought alone that Extension is realised. And
apart from the former — as indeed Sir Frederick Pollock
has shown — the latter is nothing. Therefore to us the
ideas of the bodily affections, or impressions, are more
than the affections or impressions themselves. And
hence I persist in thinking this Part of the Ethica to be
concerned with mental affections.
God and After repeating in the form of a proposition the defini
tion already given of action and passivity Spinoza makes
an interesting addition, which requires us to keep closely
in mind his doctrine that the human mind is God thinking
in a finite form. For he teaches that ideas which in the
mind of any man are adequate, are adequate also in God
in as far as He constitutes the essence of the human
qu°ateldeas wind. But those ideas which are inadequate in man are
m God. nevertheless adequate in God, not in so far as He contains
only the essence of the mind, but inasmuch as He con
tains within Himself also the ideal side — literally ' the
minds ' l — of other things. We may here recur to our
illustration above. The poor man who plays the good
husband has an adequate idea which enables him to be
an adequate cause. And the adequate idea of love and
duty simply expresses God as constituting the essence of
the man's mind. But when he is overcome by drink and
1 Mr. Hale White and Miss Stirling regard this word (mentes) as a
misprint or scribal error for 'ideas.' I am not so sure. Not the
human body only, but all individual things are finite expressions of
the Attributes of Extension and Thought. In the latter aspect even
stones must have their ' mind ' — though, of course, incommensurate
with the human mind.
THE NATURE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 93
violence, he has no longer an adequate idea, nor is he an
adequate cause. Yet still the inadequate idea — say, of
impossible, selfish isolation in pleasure — is adequate in
God, because in the divine mind there is not only the
idea of the momentary passion, but at the same time of
the long course of moral evolution from worse to better,
in which such trials and failures are inevitable steps.
The next important doctrine is that the mind is active Distinction
when it has adequate ideas, and passive — or subject to andpassiou.
passion — when it has inadequate ideas. This, of course,
does not mean that every man of action, such as Napoleon P™?- i»-
Bonaparte, has adequate ideas. Far from it. For to
Spinoza, the self-centred ambition of such men appeared
to be generated by very inadequate ideas indeed, and to be
a form of slavish passion. Eeferring back to the defini- Depends
, „ . . upon the
tion previously given of adequate and inadequate ideas, difference
we remember that the former are limited modes of infinite adequate
Thought constituting the essence of the human mind quat^Seas.
concerned, but not including anything else. Whereas
inadequate ideas are only fragments of a divine thought
which here includes other things besides the particular
recipient or reflective human mind.
For illustration let us take Socrates on the one hand, Socrates
and Sargon.
as described by Xenophon, and, on the other hand, an
Assyrian king, probably Sargon II,, as sketched by Isaiah.
And of course, the correctness or otherwise of the portrait
drawn makes no difference to the purpose for which it is
here used. Now Socrates as citizen, moralist, and teacher,
thought of himself as a responsible member of an ordered
society, stationed where he was by divine power and
burdened with a duty to transmit to others such con
victions of the relations between true knowledge and the
94
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Part II.,
Prop, xi.,
Coroll.
Assur or
Sargon n.
higher life as involved the salvation both of individuals
and the State. This idea of Socrates, concerning himself,
seems to correspond very fairly with Spinoza's notion of
an ' adequate idea.' That is, it may with reverence be
regarded as the thought of God, 'not so far as He is
infinite, but so far as He constitutes the essence of the
mind ' of Socrates. Not that the infallibility of Socrates
as a philosopher, moralist, or teacher, follows in the
least from this. Indeed it will be found that he had
many inadequate ideas according to the definition of
Spinoza. But all the same, his idea of himself and his
mission is, I think, a very fair illustration of what the
Master meant by an adequate idea.
Now turn to a very different character suggested by a
passage in Isaiah : —
* Woe ! Assur, the rod of mine anger,
And the staff of my indignation !
Against an impious nation am I wont to send him,
And against the people of my wrath to give him a charge.
But he — not so does he plan,
And his mind, not so does it reckon ;
For extirpation is in his mind,
And to cut off nations not a few.
For he has said :
" By the strength of my hand have I done it,
And by my wisdom, for I have discernment ;
And I removed the bounds of the peoples,
And their treasures plundered."
Is the axe to vaunt itself over him who hews therewith ?
Or is the saw to brag over him who saws therewith ?
Sworn has Jahweh Sabaoth :
" Surely as I have planned so shall it be,
And as I have purposed, it shall stand." ' l
1 Extracts from translation by Canon Cheyne in the Polychrome Bible.
THE NATUEE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 95
Now here Sargon n. — if the identification be right, Applica
tion,
though the name matters not — is so presented by a
prophet making no pretence to philosophy, as to afford a
very apt illustration of what the great Jew of more than
two millenniums later meant by the domination of an
inadequate idea. For the Assyrian king is described as
carrying out a purpose of God indeed, but a purpose
extending far beyond the thought in the mortal mind.
To put it in Spinoza's words, the Eternal has a ' certain
idea not merely so far as He constitutes the nature of
the human mind ' of Sargon, ' but so that together with
the human mind He has the idea of another thing, and
therefore we say that the human mind perceives the
matter in part or inadequately.'
And if it be said, as truly it must be said, that no
finite mode of infinite thought is isolated, and that God
as constituting the essence of each human mind involves
at the same time all other minds and everything that is,
this is no objection to the Master's distinction. For
though the mind of Socrates be only a point in the
Infinite, the idea of Socrates concerning himself coincides
with that point, and does not go beyond it. He fits into
and is content with the infinitesimal place appointed
him in the Infinite Whole. But not so Sargon ; for in
his lust of conquest he strains beyond his due place, and
though he fulfils a divine purpose, he has no adequate
idea of it. He is thinking of himself while God is
thinking of infinite things.
Socrates then, according to Spinoza, has a mind which Socrates
acts, or is in the sense of past times an adequate cause. Sargon
Sargon, on the other hand, has a mind which is passive, pas'
96
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
or driven by passion, and is an inadequate cause. The
Because the common-sense of this is that Socrates, having an adequate
one has an . .
adequate idea, that is, God s idea, concerning himself and his
his place, mission, acts purely from an inward impulse that is
doubtless the resultant of an infinity and eternity of
adequate
while the
reverse is
the case
with
Sargon.
Abbrevia
tion.
forces, but which is free from any compulsion outside
the conscious Socrates ; while Sargon suffers the passions
of ambition and greed, and is driven into deeds of
violence and blood by motives from without. Thus also,
Socrates is in the old-fashioned sense an 'adequate
cause' because his work can be clearly and distinctly
understood from his own nature alone — that is, of
course, his own nature as a limited mode of infinite
Thought. But Sargon is an inadequate cause, because
his work can be understood only through the interaction
between his own passions and a complex of brute force
and political cunning. Thus neither the idea nor the life
of Sargon has any obvious symmetry as a proportional
part of the Infinite, but is merely a ragged fragment,
only to be harmonised with the Whole by a far-reaching
conception of the relation of all parts thereto.
We may now hasten over a number of steps in
Spinoza's advance toward his final aim, the true freedom
of man. Because, though to the mind of the Master
each proposition and proof was essential, they need not
be in evidence for our special purpose. Thus Nature in
maturing the embryo of a particular organism, does in
deed recapitulate all the steps taken by Natura Naturans
in the evolution of the organic world up to the grade
assigned to the new individual life. But the process is
abbreviated, so that many of the steps are barely indi-
THE NATUBE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 97
cated, or even only implied. Yet the general trend is
visible enough for ordinary physiological students. If I
venture to treat somewhat similarly the elaborate argu
ment of this Part in., it is because my aim is the practical
realisation of individual religion on Spinoza's lines of
thought.
Everything that exists endeavours to continue its Self-pre
servation,
existence. With reference to the mind this endeavour is
called ' Will ' (wluntas) and with reference to the body,
' appetite ' ; 1 but in either case ' it is nothing other than
the essence itself of the man, from the nature of which
essence those things that favour its preservation neces
sarily follow, and thus the man is impelled to do those
things.' Desire, or greed, is appetite come to full con
sciousness. From this instinct of self-preservation it and results
results that the notion of annihilation either of body or instinct.
mind is unnatural; and that whatever increases the
active — as distinguished from the passive — capacities of
the body, increases or diminishes also the mind's capacity
for thought.
Here comes in the idea of Joy, which is a transition Joy, Sorrow
. and Desire.
ot the mind from a less to a greater perfection, whereas
Grief is the transition of the mind to a lesser perfection.
Joy, when it affects both mind and body, may be called
pleasurable excitement or merriment (titillatio vel
hilaritas). But when Grief (or misery) affects mind and
body it is called melancholy (depression) or pain. More
particularly pleasure or pain is predicated when one part
of the man is affected more than the rest of him. We
might instance the ' pleasures of the table ' on the one
1 Not to be limited to the desire for food, etc.
G
98 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
hand, or toothache on the other. What desire is has
already been indicated. And from these three, Joy,
Grief, and Desire, arise or are compounded all affections
of the mind.
Prop. xii. < So far as it can, the mind inclines to think of these
General things which increase and help the body's power of
issues from
the above action.' 1 On the other hand, when the mind is haunted
by the idea of those things which diminish or repress the
Prop. xiii. body's power of action, it endeavours to bethink itself of
something else adapted to shut out of view the existence
of those unpleasant ideas. And here, according to the
Nature of Master, we reach the significance of love and hatred. For
hate. love is nothing else than joy coincident with the idea of
an external cause. Arid hatred is nothing other than
grief — or, say, uneasiness and discomfort2 — coincident
with the idea of an external cause. We see, then, that
he who loves will inevitably desire to have the object of
his love present, and to preserve it ; while, on the other
hand, he who hates, must desire to remove and destroy
the object of his hate.
Caution And here I venture to interpose a caution against any
premature hasty impulse to condemn such an idea of love and hate as
)ns' materialistic, shallow, or mercenary. For we are dealing
1 This is true even if the mind is altogether wrong in its selection,
e.g. in dram-drinking. The body's power of action is certainly not
helped thereby. But the first elation makes the drunkard think so.
And then the power of association, as mentioned presently, comes in.
2 Although Spinoza was always very exact in his use of language, the
exactness sometimes consisted in harmony with his own definitions.
And his notion of 'joy, grief, and desire' is certainly not precisely
equivalent to our conversational sense of these words. Hence if we
are to express his meaning it is necessary at times to supplement those
words by others.
THE NATUEE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 99
with thought only. Even when the body is mentioned, it
is the body as an idea, and not as a molecular organism.
Thus materialism is out of the question. And if we are
repelled by the analysis of all the grandeur of human
passion into its ultimate elements, it is as though we
should be shocked by the fact that the splendours of the
autumn woods are but a fantasia on three primary tints.
Spinoza, who cheerfully and unostentatiously sacrificed
for truth and right all that materialists and mercenary
men hold dear, had no temptation to belittle the ideal
aspects of human passion. But he knew by intuition
that all his subliinest contemplations were as consistent
with their simplest elements as the divine Whole is with
its humblest parts.
In evolving the higher and more complex aspects of Association
Joy, Grief, and Desire, association of ideas plays a large °
part, and also what are in common speech called ' acci
dental ' causes. Thus, if the body has once realised sen- Prop. xiv.
sations from two objects, and if the mind at a later time
thinks of one of those objects, it will immediately re
member the other. It follows that things may become
by mere accident the causes of Joy, Grief, or Desire. Prop. iv.
That is, anything in itself quite neutral, may by associa
tion in impression and memory with an effective cause of
Joy or Grief become itself a cause of either, because the
thought of it calls up its linked idea.1
1 The curious antipathy of the late George Borrow to Dr. Martineau
affords an apt if somewhat ludicrous illustration. For it is said to
have been caused entirely by the accident that the boy Martineau,
through no wish of his own, was compelled to hoist the boy Borrow on
his shoulders for punishment in their schooldays. Martineau was an
accidental and a neutral object in the recollection. But the association
with the true cause of woe was fatal.
100 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Vacillation. We get a more complicated case of association, when
an object which usually affects us with grief or annoy
ance is felt to be similar to another which usually
Prop, xvii., affects us with joy. It seems inevitable that in such a
case the object will be regarded both with dislike and
with favour, either simultaneously or alternately. Our
generation perhaps might find an illustration of this in
the double effect produced in the minds of the first
Catholic observers of the ritual of the Buddhists. For
not only in the monastic institutions of that religion, but
in many of its ceremonies there was much that reminded
them of their home religion. While therefore they were
accustomed to regard all idolatries with grief, they could
not deny the similarity to what had from their childhood
affected them with joy. There resulted a confusion of
feeling according as they were inclined to consider Bud
dhistic institutions a degraded inheritance from early
missions, or as a blasphemous parody produced by the
powers of darkness.
Hope, fear, The action of the simple elements — Joy, Grief, and
anTex-5' Desire — is farther complicated by man's relations to the
lce> past and future. For we are so constituted that we can
recall the past and anticipate the future so as to give
either of them the influence of a present object. But
Prop, xviii. such memory and anticipation are peculiarly liable to the
uncertainty, alternation, or vacillation of effect shown
above to belong to some actually present objects. Thus
hope is defined as an unsteady joy arising from the
thought of something past or future, while we are still
in doubt as to the issue. Fear, on the contrary, is an
unsteady grief, also arising from the thought of some
THE NATUKE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 101
uncertain event. Farther, by the removal of uncertainty,
hope becomes confidence, or fear may become despair.
The Master then proceeds to work out in detail the power
of sympathy, the effect of which is inverse in cases of
love and hate, the realisation of the pleasure of the loved
object giving pleasure to the lover, while realisation of
the grief or pain of the hated object pleases the hater.
In passing I may remark that such statements are to be
accepted like abstract propositions in Political Economy,
as true in the absence of modifying influences, which,
however, as a matter of fact, are always present. Most
significant on this point is the theorem (xxvii.) which
declares that if we see any creature similar to ourselves, Power of
sympathy
but otherwise indifferent to us, to be affected in any way, awakened
we imagine ourselves to be similarly affected. The to our-
doctrine of the ' enthusiasm of humanity ' and organisa- se
tion for the prevention of cruelty to animals afford
sufficient illustration. For even in the case of animals,
it is just in proportion as we conceive their consciousness
to be like our own that we are affected by their sufferings.
I suppose no lover of ' sport ' would impale a live mouse
on a hook, as he impales a worm.
From this follow a number of conclusions so obvious Complica
tions of
that the Master would scarcely have stated them in social feel-
ing.
detail, had he not set his mind upon carrying out con
sistently the forms of mathematical demonstration. It is
sufficient here to note that every step in the exposition Props, xix.
goes to show how very complicated an interplay of feel
ing, both self-regarding and altruistic, must arise among
social beings out of those simple elements, Joy, Grief, and
Desire. Thus if any one to whom we are otherwise
102
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Envy and
Jealousy.
Props,
xxxii. to
Hate re
strained by
self-regard.
Props,
xliii., xliv.
Love ex
tended by
association
of ideas.
indifferent does good to another being like ourselves, we
shall begin to favour the benefactor. But if any one
harms another like ourselves, we shall hate the wrongdoer.
If we pity anything, the fact that its misery causes us
pain will not alienate us. It is clear that we naturally
desire to promote everything that causes joy, and to
remove or destroy anything that lessens joy. This, of
course, involves the enthusiasm of humanity, and the joy
we cause is reflected upon ourselves. On the other hand,
the evil that we do to others is necessarily also returned
on our own heads.
At the same time, we are taught that love in some of
its forms is anything but altruistic. For if we love any
being like ourselves, we want love in return, and the
more we get of that love the prouder we shall be. But if
we suspect that a third person is interfering with our
monopoly, we shall hate the intruder. Our feeling may
be that of Envy or Jealousy according to circumstances.
But if love is often mingled with self-regard, hatred also
is restrained thereby. For ' if one hates another he will
try to do that other a mischief, unless he fears that
thereby he will incur a greater mischief to himself.'
Hatred, while redoubled by hate, may be destroyed by
love, and so may be transformed into love ; a love all the
more fervid because of the transformation. The reflex
influence of lovable or hateful actions may extend to
whole classes or races of men. For, ' if we have been
affected with joy or grief by any one who belongs to a
class or nation different from our own, and if our joy or
grief is accompanied with the idea of this person as its
cause, under the common name of his class or nation,
we shall not love or hate merely him, but the whole
THE NATURE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 103
of the class or nation to which he belongs.' l In Prop. xivi.
illustration of this we may note how much the affec- Modem
instances.
tions of natural kinship between ourselves and the
United States have been quickened by the beneficence
of the late Mr. Peabody and the living Mr. Carnegie.
And though less generally known, the work of the
late Eev. Kobert M'Call among the poor in Paris, a work
so remarkable that on his decease he was honoured with
what was practically a public funeral, while men in
high office tendered their respectful regrets, was not with
out its influence in promoting the good feeling of the
French people towards us.
On the other hand, even hatred may be half-neutral- Hate as
suaged by
ised by sympathy. For ' the joy caused to us by the sympathy.
thought that an object of our hate has been destroyed or
afflicted with any evil, is not unaffected by mental grief.'
Here again a notable illustration may be found in the Prop, xivii.
mourning of the Japanese victors when a Eussian admiral
was drowned by the sinking of his battleship during the
siege of Port Arthur. The order of abstinence from all
luxuries for a day was no mere affectation, but evidence
of a sorrow really felt.
' Love and Hatred toward any object, for example, The simple
toward Peter, are destroyed if the Joy and Grief which affections
they respectively involve be associated with the idea
of another cause ; and they are respectively diminished
in proportion as we imagine that Peter has not been
their sole cause.' 1 Of this an example may be found in
the revulsion of popular feeling toward the memory of Pr°P<xlviii-
Charles i. when the continuance of the Commonwealth
under Eichard Cromwell was found to be impracticable.
1 Translation of Hale White and Amelia Stirling.
104 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
For succeeding constitutional history showed that in
their new mood the English people by no means con
doned the illegal acts of the dead king. But they began
to associate other causes with their memory of the
suffering caused by attempted tyranny. They thought
of evil advisers, or exceptional necessity, and just in
proportion as they associated the former miseries of the
country with such causes instead of Charles, their in
dignation changed to pity ; though they were far other
causes which changed that pity into worship.
-^ seems afc first signt strange to find Spinoza teaching
freedom USj as a result of the above, that toward an object con-
ana neces
sity, ceived as free, our feelings of Love and Hatred are,
under an equal incitement, greater than toward a creature
Prop. xiix. Of necessity. But his proof dissipates any possibility of
mistake. For he shows, in consistency with his defini
tions, that a thing conceived by us as free is regarded
by itself apart from others. Therefore, if it be a cause
of joy to us, we trace our indebtedness no farther, and
concentrate all our love on the isolated object. But if
we think the object to be under necessity we know that
it cannot be alone as the cause of our joy, since it is
acting together with other compelling causes.1 We do not
1 This point in Spinoza's doctrine need not occasion great difficulty
to the religious mind. For according to Christianity there is no
fundamental contradiction, at least to a religious mind, between a
free and an unfree finite cause. An evangelist is a free cause, but
at the same time wholly dependent on inspiration or grace. And
those who are converted or ' saved ' by his preaching thank certainly
not him alone but God through him, This looks like a confusion
of thought, though it is less so than it seems. But it is really
consistent with Spinoza's doctrine of freedom, as I hope will be
seen if we persevere as far as Part v. If we master that doctrine
we shall be able to sympathise with all religions that tend upwards.
THE NATUKE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 105
therefore concentrate our whole love upon it. ' Hence it
follows that because men think themselves free they are
affected with greater love or hatred toward each other
than toward other things.'
Anything may be accidentally, that is, by association, Origin of
the cause either of Hope or Fear. Thus, if in bygone Son?.8 *
times a number of men, at however long intervals, had Props, i.
ill-luck after seeing a magpie in a particular direction,
the intercommunication of their experience would be
enough to establish an association, and the magpie would
become thereby a cause of fear. On the ether hand, if
on various occasions the appearance of a soaring eagle
on the right of the chieftain was followed by victory, the
perhaps equally numerous cases of an opposite event
would not be counted, and a favourable association was
established. Thus omens came to be a cause of hope
and fear. Optimism is shown by the Master's un
qualified assertion that by our natural constitution we
easily believe the things we hope for, and believe with
difficulty what we fear. That is surely not a universal
experience. Nor is it perhaps quite consistent with
the tracing of 'superstitions' to such a cause. For
most superstitions are dark and bear the taint of
fear.
After showing that there is not necessarily any uni- Exceptional
formity in the effect produced on divers men by the make the
same object, and that even the same person may be
variously affected by the same object at different times,
the Master lays down a proposition which has an
obvious bearing on the evolution of religious cults.
'An object which we have previously seen together
106 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
with others, or which we think to possess no charac
teristic beyond what is common to many, will not arrest
our attention so long as an object which we think to
Fetishism, be exceptional.' In a Scholium Spinoza shows in a few
words how, from such an experience, astonishment or
consternation may arise, according as the exceptional
object excites wonder or fear. This we may illustrate
by the awe felt by Arabs for the Kaaba, or black stone
at Mecca. Again, if the exceptional object be a human
character, action, or passion, the alternative mental
affections are veneration and devotion in the case of
good, and horror in the case of evil. St. Francis of
Assisi or Eichard in. naturally occur as opposite illus
trations. It is obvious that various forms of religion,
such as Fetishism at one extreme, and Babism at an
other, are quite conceivably traceable to the mental
affections caused by strikingly exceptional objects or
persons.
Joy of the Amidst the bewildering interplay of variously dis-
miiicl in its
activities, guised Joy, Grief, and Desire stimulated by idea,
passion, and imagination, one strong impulse is always
Prop. mi. clear ; and that is the joy of the mind in consciousness
of its power of action, a joy all the greater in proportion
as that power is more clearly realised. For illustration
we have only to think of the exultation chanted by
Lucretius over his labour, or the triumph in the posses
sion of his supreme gift which throbs through every line
of Milton's epic. These are extreme cases, it is true.
But they show on a great scale what is felt in various
diminishing degrees by every mind that acts out its
powers. Here sympathy comes in and enables praise
THE NATURE OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 107
to double the mind's Joy in its own activities by the
sense of pleasure given to others.
This being so, the mind naturally tends to think of
those things which involve its power of action. This is sciousness.
illustrated in myriads of street conversations, where each Prop. liv.
interlocutor, whether cabman, commercial traveller, jour
nalist, or lawyer, always seeks occasion to celebrate his
own shrewdness, spirit, pluck, or sharpness. For this is
not necessarily mere conceit of self. It is prompted by
the mind's pleasure in its own activities. On the other
hand, if the mind is forced to realise its lack of power,
it is grieved, as, for instance, when a student sets out on
a career for which he is unfitted by nature, and finds by
failure the bitterness of impotence. And as the joy of
power is doubled by the pleasure given to others, so the
grief of impotence is increased by blame which implies
the pain of others.
The concluding four propositions of this Part ill. infinite
finally establish the immense complexity of the mental of the
affections compounded out of simple elements with the Erections.
aid of sympathy and association. * Of Joy, Grief, and Props, ivi.
Desire, and consequently of every affection which either,
like vacillation of mind, is compounded of these, or like
Love, Hatred, Hope, and Fear, is derived from them,
there are just as many kinds as there are kinds of
objects by which we are affected.' Amongst these
mental affections some of the most obtrusive, such as
' voluptuousness, drunkenness, lust, avarice, and (selfish)
ambition,' cause us all the perplexities associated with
inadequate ideas.
But besides the joys and griefs that are passions —
108 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
The noblest i.e. the pleasant or painful experience of the mind driven
8»rc those 01
action. by forces outside itself — there are also mental affections
belonging to action rather than passion. And these,
whether bright or sombre, are of a higher rank than
passion. We may illustrate this doctrine by reference
to the serenity of Socrates when he drank the hemlock,
a serenity in which, however, grief for his bereaved
disciples, and also for a misguided State, mingled in
the perfect peace with which he followed the right.
This was not an attitude of passion, but of action, be
cause it had the spontaneity of freedom. Yet it was
attended by joy and grief. And thus the mind, even in
the exercise of the freeman's highest prerogatives of
action, never escapes Joy, Grief, and Desire.
Conclusion In fact we see already, and I hope we shall see more
clearly hereafter, that Spinoza's spiritual ideal was
neither that of the Stoic, nor of the Mystic, nor of
' Nirvana.' Never did he countenance the unnatural
and impossible attempt to extirpate appetites which are
of the essence of man. But, as the solar system keeps
its place, subordinating all its attractions and repulsions,
its electric currents, its fierce heats, and its congealing
cold, to its function as part of an infinite Whole, so the
microcosm man, always palpitating with desire, is to
keep such an inward harmony that while sure that he
is, so to speak, only an atom of God, he is conscious only
of the spontaneity of the free.
APPENDIX TO PAKT III
DEFINITIONS OF THE MENTAL AFFECTIONS l
INTEODUCTOKY KEMARKS
IT is doubtful whether these Definitions should be in- Difficulties
eluded in any mere ' Handbook ' to the Ethics. For they Definitions.
form in some respects the most difficult section of the
whole, and can scarcely be appreciated until the doctrine
of Freedom in Part v. has been mastered. One reason
for the difficulty is given us by Spinoza himself in one of
his ' Explanations/ Def. xx.
1 1 am aware,' he says, ' that these words in common use
have another signification. But my purpose is to explain
the nature of things rather than of words, and to indicate it
by words of which the customary meaning is not altogether
foreign to the sense in which I desire to use them. It is
enough to give notice of this once for all.1
But the notice, though it may set us on our guard, by
no means removes the difficulty. When, for instance,
we find Love (Def. vi.) defined as ' Joy with the con
comitant idea of an external cause ' where the external
cause may be anything from a plum-pudding up to an
artistic or even religious ideal, we feel as if we had lost
1 For reasons given in the Introductory Remarks I would advise
most readers to pass over these definitions until they have read the
exposition of Part V.
109
110 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
our bearings and were altogether out of touch with the
Author. For though the word Love is of course often
used in lower senses, as when a man talks of his love for
apples or for bitter beer, yet in a work on philosophy we
expect to find it associated with the highest and purest
emotion of self-absorption in something greater or better
than self. But it is obvious that Spinoza wished to
include in his definition all possible, or at least all actual
forms of the passion. That he does not endorse thereby
any low or carnal idea of Love is sufficiently proved by
his inspiring utterances on ' the intellectual Love of God/
And if it be asked how he can transfigure into such
glory, mere ' joy with the concomitant idea of an external
cause/ I can only hope that an answer may be found in
the exposition of Part v. Here it is only needful further
to observe that Spinoza traces all the bewildering
varieties of human feeling to three fundamental elements
— Desire, Joy, and Grief. It will be found that this ulti
mate analysis is no more inconsistent with the complex
refinements of moral evolution than is the analysis of
light into three primary colours with the glories of the
painter's art.
DEFINITIONS
' Desire is the very essence of man in so far as that essence
is conceived as determined toward any action by any one of
his affections.
'Explanation. — We have said above (Pt. ill., Prop, xi.,
Schol.) that Desire is appetite with the addition of self-
consciousness, while appetite is the very essence of man in so
far as the latter is determined to such acts as make for the
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 111
man's preservation. But at the same time I have noted in
that Scholium that I really do not recognise any difference
between human appetite and Desire. For whether a man be
conscious of his appetite or not, still appetite remains one
and the same thing. And so lest I should appear guilty of
tautology I have refrained from explaining Desire by appe
tite ; but I have sought so to define the former that all efforts
of human nature to which we give the names of appetite,
will, desire, or impulse might be included. For I might
have said that desire is the essence itself of the Man so far as
the former is determined toward any action ; but from this
definition it would not follow l that the mind may be con
scious of its Desire or appetite ; therefore in order that I
might include the cause of this consciousness it was necessary
to add the words " in so far as that essence is conceived as
determined toward any action by any one of (the man's)
affections." For by an affection of the human essence we
understand any disposition of that essence, whether it be
innate, whether it be conceived through the attribute of
Thought alone or of Extension alone, or whether it be related
to both. Here, then, under the name of Desire, I understand
every one of those emotions, impulses, appetites, and voli
tions which vary according to a man's changing mood, and
not rarely are so mutually opposed that he is drawn hither
and thither and knows not what he would be at.
'II. Joy is man's passage from a lesser to a greater Joy.
perfection.
* III. Grief is man's passage from a greater to a lesser Grief,
perfection.
'Explanation. — "Passage" I say. For Joy is not the
perfection itself. If, for instance, a man were born having
that degree of perfection to which (in the definition) he
passes, he would possess it without any affection of joy ; as
will appear more plainly from the affection of Grief, the
opposite to the former. For, that Grief consists in the
1 ' The Mind does not know itself except in so far as it perceives
ideas of bodily affections.' — Pt. n., Prop, xxiii.
112 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
passage to lesser perfection, and not in the lesser perfection
itself, no one can deny, since, in so far as a man snares any
perfection, he cannot be sad. Nor can we say that Grief
consists in being without 1 a greater perfection ; for " being
without " is nothing. But the affection of Grief is a move
ment (actus), and can therefore be nothing other than the
movement of passing to a lesser perfection, that is, a move
ment by which a man's power of action is diminished or
restrained (Pt. in., Prop, xi., Schol.). As for the definitions
of merriment, pleasurable excitement,2 melancholy and pain,
I pass them by because they are related rather to the body 3
than to the mind, and are only different varieties of Joy and
Grief.
menTish" '^* ^ston^ment is tne realisation (imagination, Forstel-
lung) of an object on which the Mind remains fixed because
this particular realisation has no connection with others.
' Explanation. — We have shown (Pt. n., Prop, xviii.,
Schol.) that what causes the Mind to pass immediately from
the contemplation of one thing to the thought of another is
that the images of these things are linked one with another
and are so arranged that one succeeds to another. Now this
is inconceivable when the image of the thing is novel. In
such a case the Mind will be fascinated by the contemplation
of the (new) object until that Mind is determined by other
causes to think of other things. Considered in itself, there
fore, the realisation of a novel object is of the same nature as
other realisations. And on this account I do not reckon
Astonishment among the affections, nor do I see any reason
1 ' Privation ' in English suggests being deprived of, and is there
fore not so purely negative since it implies a positive change. Spinoza's
idea may be illustrated by the 'blind' fishes of certain American
caves. Properly speaking, they are not ' blind ' at all, for that would
imply deprivation of sight, and therefore passage from a greater to a
lesser perfection. They are simply without sight, as stones are.
2 E.g. Tickling. Melancholy here means really ' dumps.'
3 That is, their immediate occasion is more obviously corporeal.
But we must never lose sight of the fundamental unity of mind and
body.
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 113
why I should do so, since this distraction of the Mind does
not arise from any positive cause which draws the Mind
away from other things, but simply from the absence of any
cause leading the Mind from the contemplation of one object
to the thought of other things. I acknowledge therefore
(as I have shown in Pt. ill., Prop, xi., Schol.) only three radical
or primary affections, viz. Joy, Grief, and Desire. And the
only reason which has induced me to make any comment on
Astonishment is that it has been customary to refer by other
names to certain affections derived from the three radical
ones, wherever those (secondary) affections refer to things
causing astonishment. The same reason induces me to add
a definition of Contempt.
* V. Contempt is the realisation (imagination) of an object Contempt.
which touches the Mind so little that the Mind itself is
moved by the presence of the object to imagine those
qualities which are not in it rather than those which are in
it.1 See Pt. in., Prop. Hi., Schol.
* The definitions of Veneration and Scorn I pass over here,
because, so far as I know, none of the affections derive a
name from these.2
'VI. Love is joy with the concomitant idea of an external Love,
cause.
' Explanation. — This definition explains with sufficient
clearness the essence of Love ; while that of certain authors
who define Love as the will of the Lover to unite himself to
the loved object expresses not the essence of Love but a
property of it. And because the essence of Love was not
sufficiently discerned by such authors, neither could they
1 We must be careful not to confuse mere contempt with the in
dignation excited by the forgeries of a Pigott. Contempt touches
only at a tangent and glides away. E.g. the ' Baconian ' theory of
Shakespeare's works glides off, leaving only the thought of what is not
in it and is inexplicable by it.
2 Reference to Prop. lii.} Schol., in Part in., shows the meaning to
be that Spinoza regards these as, so to speak, affections of affections.
Thus : ' Scorn arises from contempt of folly, as veneration arises from
astonishment at wisdom.'
H
114
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
have any distinct perception of its property, and hence it
has come to pass that their definition has been generally
considered rather obscure. We must observe, however, that
when I say that it is characteristic of a lover to unite himself
in will (inclination) to the thing loved, I do not by " will "
understand a consent or deliberate resolve or a free deter
mination (for this we have shown by Prop, xlviii., Pt. n.,
to be fictitious) ; nor yet a desire of the lover to reunite
himself with the thing loved when it is absent, nor a desire
to continue in its presence when it is at hand ; for Love can
be conceived without either one or the other of these desires ;
but by "will" I understand the satisfaction (or acquiescence)
which exists in the lover on account of the presence of the
thing loved, by which presence the Joy of the lover is rein
forced or at least fostered.
Hatred. 'VII. Hatred is Grief with the concomitant idea of an
external cause.
1 Explanation. — What should be noted here may easily be
gathered from the Explanation of the preceding Definition.
See also Scholium to Prop. xiii. of this Part.
Inclination. ' VIII. Inclination J is Joy with the concomitant idea of some
object as being casually the cause of Joy. On this see
Scholium to Prop. xv. of this Part.
Aversion. 'IX. Aversion is Grief with the accompanying idea of some
object which is accidentally the cause of the Grief.
Devotion. 'X. Devotion is love towards an object at which we are
astonished (or which overwhelms us with wonder).
'Explanation. — We have shown by Prop. Hi. of this Part
that astonishment is excited by the novelty of the object.
If therefore it should happen that we often call up the image
of that by which we are astonished, our astonishment will
cease, and thus we see how the affection of Devotion easily
subsides into simple Love.
1 Or the sense of attraction or impulse towards. It is difficult to
give in one English word Spinoza's idea of propensio. We have
adopted ' propensity ' from the Latin. But its connotations are hardly
what is required here.
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 115
' XI. Derision (irrisio) is Joy arising from our recognition Derision,
that something we despise is present in an object of our hatred.
' Explanation. — In as far as we despise the thing we hate,
to that extent we deny existence to it (see Schol., Prop, lii.,
of this Part 1), and so far we rejoice. But since it is implied
that a man holds in hatred the object of his derision, it
follows that this Joy is not steadfast.
1 XII. Hope is uncertain Joy arising from something future Hope.
or past, about the issue of which we are to any extent
doubtful.
' XIII. Fear is uncertain Grief arising from the idea of some- Fear,
thing future or past about the issue of which ws are to any
extent doubtful.
'Explanation. — From these Definitions it follows that there
can be no Hope without Fear, nor any Fear without Hope.
For if any one wavers in Hope and has doubts about the
issue of an event, this implies that he conceives of something
excluding the realisation of his future object. Thus he is
grieved ; and consequently, while he wavers in Hope, he fears
that things will turn out badly. On the other hand, he who
is in Fear, that is, who doubts whether what he hates will
not come to pass, also conceives of something which excludes
the existence of that same object of his hate ; and thus (by
Prop. xx. of this Part) he rejoices, and has hope that (his
fear) will not be realised.
1 XIV. Confidence is Joy arising from the idea of a past or Confidence,
future event, concerning which all cause for doubt has been
removed.
' XV. Despair is Grief arising from the idea of a past or Despair,
future event concerning which all cause for doubt has been
removed.
'Explanation. — Thus Confidence arises out of Hope, and
Despair out of Fear, when all cause for doubt of an event is
1 'The mind remains determined to think rather of those things
which are not in it ' — i.e. the object of contempt — ' than of those which
are in it, although from the presence of an object the mind is accus
tomed to think chiefly about what is in the object.'
116 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
removed. And this occurs either when a man imagines a
thing past or future to be present and regards it as present,
or because he conceives of other things which exclude the
existence of those circumstances which enabled him to doubt.
For although we can never be certain about the outcome of
particular circumstances (by Coroll., Prop, xxxi., of Pt. n.), it
may nevertheless happen that we have no doubt about it.
For we have shown (Schol. to Prop, xlix., Pt. n.) that it is one
thing not to doubt about a matter, and another thing to have
certainty about it. And so it may happen that by the image
of a thing past or future we may be touched with the same
affection of Joy or Grief as by the image of the thing actually
present. (Prop, xviii. of this Part, and Schol.)
Gladness. ' XVI. Gladness is Joy with the concomitant idea of some
thing in the past that has turned out better than was hoped.
Bitterness. 'XVII. Bitterness is Grief with the concomitant idea of
something in the past that has turned out worse than was
hoped.
Commisera- ' XVIII. Commiseration is Grief with the concomitant idea
tion- of an evil happening to another whom we picture as resem
bling ourselves. (Schol. to Prop, xxii., and Schol., Prop, xxvii.,
of this Part.)
1 Explanation. — Between Commiseration and Pitif ulness there
does not seem to be any difference unless perhaps that Com
miseration refers rather to a particular affection and Pitiful-
ness to a habit.
Favour. ' XIX. Favour is Love to some one who has benefited another.
indigna- 'XX. Indignation is Hatred toward some one who has
tion. injured another.
' Explanation. — I am aware that these words in common use
have another signification. But my purpose is to explain
the nature of things rather than of words, and to indicate it
by words of which the customary meaning is not altogether
foreign to the sense in which I desire to use them. It is
enough to give notice of this once for all. But see the cause
of these affections in Coroll. 1, Prop, xxvii., and Schol. to
Prop. xxii. of this Part.
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 117
' XXL Over-estimation consists in thinking too highly of Over-
another person on account of our Love for him. (The German estima 10
Schwarmerei perhaps expresses Spinoza's idea.)
' XXII. Depreciation consists in thinking too little of a Deprecia-
person on account of our Hatred for him.
'Explanation. — Thus over-estimation (Schwarmerei) is an
affection or property of Love, and Depreciation is an affection
or property of Hatred ; and therefore Over-estimation may
be also defined as Love in so far as it causes a man to think
too highly of the beloved object; and on the other hand,
Depreciation may be defined as Hatred in so far as it causes
a man to think more meanly than is just of the object of his
Hate (see Schol. to Prop, xxvii. of this Part).
' XXIII. Envy is Hatred in so far as it causes a man to be Envy,
grieved by the happiness of another, and to be gladdened by
another's woe.
'Explanation. — With Envy is commonly contrasted Com
passion (Misericordia), which accordingly, though somewhat
against the usual understanding of the word, may be defined
as follows.
' XXIV. Good-nature l is Love in so far as it causes a man Good-
to be gladdened by the good fortune of another and to be nature<
grieved by another's woe.
1 Explanation. — With regard to other properties of Envy, see
Schol. to Prop. xxiv. and Schol. to Prop, xxxii. of this Part.
These then are the affections of Joy and Grief which are
associated with the idea of an external object as cause, either
by itself or accidentally. I now pass on to consider other The Author
passes from
1 Spinoza's word is misericordia. But I cannot agree that ' com. havln^an
passion ' fits its meaning here ; for ' compassion ' in English is not external
concerned with another's good fortune. It seems to me impossible to to those
maintain substantial accuracy here if we insist on rendering fia;vul£ an
misericordia by the same English word as in the Explanation cause.
of Def. xviii. In that explanation Spinoza had in mind the habit of
pity connoted by the word. Here he has in mind the connotation
of kind-heartedness which sympathises with both the good and evil
fortune of others. I can find no English word which precisely suits
both senses.
118
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Self-satis
faction,
Humility.
Repent
ance.
affections which have the idea of something within us as
cause.
' XXV. Self-satisfaction is Joy arising from a man's contem
plation (realisation) of himself and his personal power of
action.
'XXVI. Humility is Grief arising from a man's contem
plation (realisation) of his personal impotence and helpless
ness.
' Explanation. — Self -satisfaction finds its opposite in Humility,
so far as by the former we understand Joy arising from
our contemplation of our power of action. But so far as we
understand also by self-satisfaction, Joy with the concomitant
idea of something done which we believe we have accom
plished by a free T resolve of the Mind, then it finds its oppo
site in Repentance, which is defined by us as follows.
c XXVII. Repentance is Grief with the concomitant idea of
something done which we believe we have accomplished by a
free resolve of the Mind.
' Explanation. — Of these affections we have shown the causes
in Schol. to Prop. li. and in Props, liii.-lv. of this Part. As to
a free resolve of the Mind, see Schol. to Prop, xxxv., Part n.
But here I must farther observe that there is no wonder if
Grief follow all those actions which by custom are called
Effect of ivicJced, and if Joy follow those which are called right. For
education1!* tnat this depends mainly on education we readily understand
from what has been said above.2 For instance, parents, by
reprobating the former class of actions and continually scold
ing their children on account of them, while they urge and
praise the latter class of actions, have succeeded in connecting
emotions of Grief with the former and of Joy with the latter.
Indeed, this is confirmed by experience. For custom and
religion are not the same to all (races). On the contrary,
things sacred amongst some are profane amongst others ; and
1 N.B. — Spinoza uses the word ' free ' here in the vulgar sense of un
caused, and not in the sense assigned to it in the doctrine of God, of
adequate ideas and adequate causes.
2 I.e. in the previous parts of the Ethics.
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 119
things honourable among some are base among others. It
depends therefore on the education that each has received,
whether he repents of a deed or glories in it.1
' XXVIII. Pride is thinking too much of ourselves on Pride,
account of Self-love.
' Explanation. — Pride therefore differs from Over-estimation
inasmuch as the latter refers to an external object, but Pride to
the man himself who thinks too much of himself. Farther, as
Over-estimation is an affection or property of Love, so Pride is
an affection or property of Self-love ; and it may therefore be
defined as a man's Self-love or Self-satisfaction in so far as it
causes him to think of himself more highly than he ought to
think2 (see Schol. to Prop. xxvi. of this Part). To this
affection there is no contrary. For no one through hatred Pride has
of himself thinks of himself less than he ought. Nay, no one contrary.
thinks too little of himself because he conceives himself
unable to do this or that. For whatever a man conceives he
cannot do, the conception is of necessity (i.e. inevitable) ; and
by that conception he is so affected that he is actually in
capable of doing what he conceives he cannot do. For as
long as he conceives that he is not able to do this or that, so
long there is no determination to action, and of course so
long it is impossible that he should do it. And yet, if we
pay attention to things dependent on opinion alone, we may
conceive it possible that a man may think of himself less than
is just. For it may happen that some one, when he sadly But in-
considers his own helplessness, may imagine that he is S^.c0rdina-
despised by everybody, and this although no one has the tion to the
slightest idea of despising him. Besides, a man may think opinion of
too little of himself if he denies concerning his present self others> an
apparent
something that has relation to a future time about which he opposite
doubts. For instance, if he should deny that he can conceive may"^6 en
gendered.
1 It is obvious that in such passages Spinoza is speaking of mankind
without the light of Reason ; just as St. Paul in Romans i. and ii.
speaks of mankind without the Gospel.
2 Spinoza does not quote St. Paul, but the parallelism is tempting.
* Plusjusto sentiat' is what Spinoza wrote.
120
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
of anything with definite clearness, or that he can either
This is desire nor do anything but what is wicked or base. We may
elation^16" therefore say that a man thinks too little of himself when we
observe that through excessive fear of shame he does not
dare those things which others his equals dare. This affec
tion, then, we may set over against Pride, and I will call it
self-depreciation. For as Pride springs from Self-satisfaction,
so from Humility springs Self -depreciation, which accordingly
is defined as follows.
' XXIX. Self-depreciation is thinking too little of one's self
through depression (Tristitia).
' Explanation. Still we are often in the habit of contrasting
Humility with Pride as its opposite, but only when we fix
our attention more on their effects than on their nature.
For we are accustomed to call that man proud who boasts
too much, who talks only of his own virtues and other
people's vices, who desires to take precedence of every one,
and who, in fine, marches along with such stateliness and
pomp as are the prerogative of others placed far above him.
On the other hand, we call that man humble who very often
blushes, who confesses his failings and tells of the virtues of
others, who gives way to every one, and who, in fine, walks
with bent head and neglects to adorn himself. But, indeed,
these affections, I mean Humility and Self-depreciation, are
very uncommon. For human nature, considered in itself,
resists them with all its force (see Props, xiii. and liv. of this
Part) ; and so those who are supposed to be self-depreciatory
and humble are very generally most ambitious and full of
envy.
Glorying. ' XXX. Glorying l is Joy with the concomitant idea of some
action of ours which we suppose others to praise.
Shame. * XXXI. Shame is Grief with the concomitant idea of some
action which we suppose others to reprobate.
1 The word is justified by the Anglican Version of the Bible
(1 Cor. v. 6, etc.), and seems nearer to Spinoza's meaning than
'self -exaltation,' which may be totally regardless of the praise of
others.
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 121
' On these affections see Schol. to Prop. xxx. of this Part.
But here should be noted the difference existing between
Shame and Modesty. For Shame is Grief that follows a deed
by which we feel disgraced. But Modesty is that Fear or
Dread of Shame by which a man is restrained from doing
anything disgraceful. To Modesty is usually opposed Im
pudence, which, properly speaking, is not an affection, as I
will show in due course. But the names of affections, as I
have already warned my readers, are matters rather of usage
than of the nature of the affections.
c I have now discharged the task which I had set myself of
explaining the affections of Joy and Grief. I go on now Affections
to those which I ascribe to Desire.
'XXXII. Yearning1 is the desire or longing to enjoy Yearning,
something when the longing is quickened by the recollection
of the object of Desire, but is at the same time hampered by
the recollection of other things which exclude the existence
of the desired object.
* Explanation. — Whenever we call to mind any object, as we
have often said, we are by the very fact disposed to regard
that object with the same mental affection as if it were pre
sent. But so long as we are awake, this disposition or effort
is very much hampered by the images of things which ex
clude the existence of the object that we recollect. Thus
whenever we recollect an object which affects us with any
kind of Joy, we of necessity try to contemplate it as present
and (to realise) the same kind of Joy as before. But this
effort is instantly hampered by the recollection of things
which exclude the existence of that object. So that Yearn
ing is in reality a Grief, the exact opposite of that Joy
which arises from the absence of an object that we hate. (On
which see Schol. to Prop, xlvii. of this Part.) But because
the name Yearning seems related to Desire, I include this
affection among those of Desire.
4 XXXIII. Emulation is the desire which is begotten in us Emulation.
1 Desiderium. Compare the Scottish word ' wearying for. ' I
cannot agree that the bare word ' regret ' renders it.
122
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Gratitude.
Benevo
lence.
Anger.
Vengeance.
Cruelty.
for an object because we conceive that others have the same
Desire.
' Explanation. — He who flees because he sees others flee,
who fears because he sees others fear; or again, he who
snatches his hand back and moves his body as though his
hand had been burned, because he sees that some one else
has burned his hand, may be said indeed to imitate the
affection of another, but we do not call this emulation. Not
that we know there is one cause for emulation and another
for imitation, but because it is an established custom to call
only that man emulous who imitates what we judge to be
honourable, useful, or agreeable. But as to the causes of
Emulation, see Prop, xxvii. of this Part and the Scholium.
And as to the reason why Envy is so often connected with
this affection, see Prop, xxxii. of this Part and the Scholium.
' XXXIV. Thankfulness or Gratitude is Desire, or a devotion
of Love by which we endeavour to benefit him, who, from a
similar affection of Love, has done good to us. (Props, xxxix.
and xli., Part in.)
'XXXV. Benevolence is the Desire of doing good to any
one whom we pity (see Schol. to Prop, xxvii. of this Part).
4 XXXVI. Anger is the Desire by which we are impelled
through hatred to injure him whom we hate. (Prop, xxxix.,
Part m.)
'XXXVII. Vengeance is the Desire by which, through
mutual hatred, we are impelled to injure him who, through
a similar affection, has injured us. See 2 Coroll., Prop. xl. of
this Part, with the Scholium.
'XXXVIII. Cruelty or Ferocity is the Desire by which
any one is impelled to do harm to one whom we love or
whom we pity.1
1 Explanation. — To Cruelty is opposed Mercy, which is not
1 The definition seems curious ; but it is to a certain extent justi
fied by the totally different views taken of inter-racial ' atrocities '
by those who commit them and the friends of the sufferers — e.g. the
Turks and the English sympathisers with Armenian Christians, or the
whites in South Africa and the Aborigines Protection Society.
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 123
a passion, but a power of the Mind by which a man restrains
anger and vengeance.
* XXXIX. Timidity is the Desire of avoiding the greater of Fear,
two dreaded evils by (accepting) the less. (See Schol. to
Prop, xxxix. of this Part.)
' XL. Boldness is the Desire inciting a man to do something Boldness,
dangerous which his fellows fear to risk.
1 XLI. Cowardice is ascribed to him whose Desire is checked Cowardice,
by dread of a danger which his fellows dare to meet.
'Explanation. — Cowardice, therefore, is nothing other than
the dread of some evil which most people do not usually fear ;
wherefore I do not include Cowardice amorg affections of
Desire. Nevertheless I have wished to explain it here, be
cause so long as we keep in view Desire, Cowardice is the
exact opposite of Boldness.
* XLII. Consternation is affirmed of the man whose desire Consterna-
of avoiding evil is paralysed by astonishment (horror) at the tlon*
evil he fears.
' Explanation. — Consternation is therefore a kind of coward
ice. But since Consternation arises from a double Dread,
it may be more aptly defined as that Dread which holds a
man stupefied or wavering, so that he cannot remove an evil.
I say "stupefied," in so far as we understand his desire of
removing the evil to be restrained by his astonishment. I
say "wavering," in so far as we conceive the same Desire
to be hampered by the fear of another evil which equally
tortures him ; so that he does not know which of the two
evils to avoid. (See Schol., Prop, xxxix., and Schol., Prop, lii.,
Part in. Farther, as to Cowardice and Boldness, see Schol.,
Prop, li., Part m.)
' XLIII. Courtesy or Affability is the Desire of doing those Courtesy or
things which please men and omitting those which displease Affablllty-
them.
' XLIV. Ambition is the excessive desire of Glory. Ambition.
'Explanation. — Ambition is a Desire by which all the
Affections are nourished and strengthened; and on that
account this particular Affection can hardly be overcome.
124
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
For so long as a man is influenced by any Desire at all, he is
inevitably influenced by this. "Every noblest man," says
Cicero, "is chiefly actuated by glory. Even Philosophers
attach their names to the books they write concerning con
tempt of glory, etc."
Luxury. ' XLV. Luxuriousness is the excessive Desire or Love of
voluptuous living.
Inebriety. * XL VI. Inebriety is the excessive Desire and Love of
drinking.
Avarice. ' XL VII. Avarice is the excessive Desire and Love of
riches.
Lust. 'XL VIII. Lust is the like Love and Desire of sexual
intercourse.
1 Explanation. — Whether this desire of sexual intercourse be
held within bounds or not, it is usually called Lust. More
over, these five last-mentioned affections (as I have noted in
the Schol. to Prop. Ivi. of this Part) have no contrary affec
tions. For Affability is a sort of Ambition (as to which see
Schol. to Prop. xxix. of this Part). And I have already
pointed out that Temperance, Sobriety, and Chastity suggest
a power of the Mind, and not a passion. And although it
may well be that an avaricious, or an ambitious, or a
cowardly man may abstain from gluttony or drunkenness or
debauchery, still Avarice, Ambition, and Timidity are not
therefore the contraries of Luxury, Drunkenness, and Lust.
For the avaricious man generally desires to guzzle as much
meat and drink as he can at the expense of some one else.
Again, the ambitious man, if only he hopes to keep it a
secret, will restrain himself in nothing, and if he lives
amongst drunkards and libertines will, precisely because he
is ambitious, be the more given to the same vices. Lastly,
the coward does that which he would rather not. For al
though to avoid death he may throw his wealth into the sea,
yet he remains avaricious.1 And if the lascivious man is
grieved because he cannot act according to his manner, he
1 The subject of the sentence is evidently a man who is both
cowardly and avaricious.
DEFINITIONS OF MENTAL AFFECTIONS 125
does not on that account cease to be lascivious. Universally,
therefore, these affections have regard not so much to the
mere actions of eating, drinking, and so on, as to Appetite
and Love itself. Nothing therefore can be opposed as a
contrary to these affections except nobility of soul and
strength of mind, as we shall see afterwards.
' The definitions of Jealousy and other vacillations of Jealousy,
mind I pass over in silence, partly because they are com- etc'
pounded of the affections which we have already defined,
partly because very many of them have no (specific) names.
And this latter fact shows that, for the practical purposes of
Life, it is sufficient to recognise only the genus to which
they belong. Moreover, it follows from the Definitions of the
affections which we have described, that they all spring from
Desire, Joy, or Grief, or rather that there are no other
affections beside these three, of which each one passes under
various names, varying as their relations and external signs
vary. If now we give attention to these elementary affec
tions, and to what wo have said above as to the nature of the
Mind, we shall be able here to define the affections in so far
as they relate to the Mind alone.
General Definition of the Affections.
' An affection, called also animi pathema, is a confused
idea by which the Mind affirms of the Body or of any part
of it, a greater or less power of existence than before, and
this increase of power being given, the Mind is determined to
one particular thought rather than another.
1 Explanation.— I say first that an Affection, or Passion of
the Mind, is a confused idea. For we have shown (Prop. iii.
of this Part) that the Mind is passive only so far as it has
inadequate or confused ideas. I say in the next place by
which the Mind affirms of the Body or of any part of it a greater or
less power of existence than before. For all ideas that we have
of bodies indicate the actual constitution of our own body
126 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
rather than the nature of an external body (Coroll. 2,
Prop, xiv., Part IL). But this idea which constitutes the form
of an Affection must indicate or express the condition of the
Body or of some part of it ; which condition the Body or any
part of it possesses from the fact that its power of action
or force of existence is increased or diminished, helped or
limited. But observe, when I speak of a greater or less force
of existence than before, I do not mean that the Mind compares
the present with the past condition of the Body ; but that
the idea which constitutes the form of the Affection affirms
of the Body something which necessarily implies more or
less of reality than before. And since the Essence of the
Mind consists in this (Props, xi. and xiii., Part IL), that it
affirms the actual existence of its Body, and since we under
stand by Perfection, the very essence of a thing, it follows
therefore that the Mind passes to a greater or less perfection
when it happens to it to affirm of its Body or of some part
of it what involves a greater or less reality than before.
When therefore I have said above that the Mind's power of
thought was increased or diminished, I intended nothing
other than that the Mind has formed an idea of its Body or
of some part of its Body, which idea expresses more or less of
reality than the Mind had before affirmed of its Body. For
the excellence of ideas and the actual power of thought are
estimated by the excellence of the object. Finally, I have
added " which being given tJie Mind itself is determined to one
particular thought rather than another," that I might also ex
press the nature of Desire in addition to that of Joy and
Grief which the first part of the Definition explains.'
PAET IV
THE BONDAGE OF MAN
THE Fourth and Fifth Parts of the Etliica contain the Scope of
practical application of the principles laboriously de- and Fifth
tailed in the three previous Parts. And this practical
application consists in an exposition of the alternative
effects or consequences to man of the truths propounded.
That is to say, those truths make either for the moral
bondage of man or else for his moral freedom. And
the question as to which of these two alternative results
is to be realised in our own case will be decided by
the attitude we adopt toward the truths already proved.
Thus if we are content to have only inadequate ideas, A practical
, , . . , . application
and always to be inadequate causes, we must remain of prin-
in bondage. But if, on the other hand, we achieve a down3. al
serviceable stock of adequate ideas, and — at least in
the chief affairs of life — those of conduct — can be our
selves adequate causes, then we attain the only freedom
possible to active life whether in body or mind, the
consciousness of spontaneity, of acting as we would,
and not as we are compelled.
1 Human impotence in the discipline and control of the Idea of
mental and bodily affections I call bondage (sermtutem)t
For a man subordinated to his affections is not under his
127
128
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
pm-eiy
anthropo-
morphic,
measured
oy tn.6 in-
tention of
maker,
and the
latter being
unknown,
mentis
m
piements.
own dominion but under that of fortune. And under that
power it often befalls that although he may see what is better
for himself, he is compelled to follow what is worse. The
reason for this, and what else of good or evil the affections
possess, I purpose to show in this Part. But before I begin
this, I think well to make a few prefatory remarks on
perfection and imperfection and on good and evil.'
Those prefatory words I proceed as usual to para-
phrase with here and there a free translation. The
A
idea of Perfection, says the Master, that is, finishing,
or completion, originates in the experience of a finite
maker, for instance, of a house. Such an one, when
he has got the roof on and has put the last touch to
everything inside, says, 'There, that is finished — per-
fected.' And of any such mortal work, whether house.
or carriage, or boat, of which we know by experience
the intended final shape, the purpose of the maker, we
can say whether it is finished, that is, perfect, or only
part finished and imperfect. 'But if any man sees a
product, the like of which he never saw before and
does not know the intention of the maker, that man
certainly cannot say whether the thing is perfect (finished)
or not.' To put a case unknown in the Master's days ;
suppose we come upon a 'find' of pre-paleeolithic, or
' eo^lric ' weapons. It is quite possible there may be
many unfinished among them. Yet it would be difficult,
if not impossible, in the present state of our knowledge
to say confidently which they are. For whatever know
ledge we may have, even of the oldest palaeolithic
weapons hitherto observed, it does not avail us much
here. Because a very much rougher article served the
purpose of the earlier race, and what to the eolithic
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 129
man was a perfect weapon or tool, his successors would
regard as unfinished. Thus the modern collector whose
ideas have been formed by relics of a more advanced
stone age, may have often thrown away, as mere flakes or
cases of abrasion by natural forces, the ' perfected ' tools
of the first stone users. In fact, as Spinoza says, we
do not know the intention of the makers, and therefore
cannot possibly tell whether that intention had been
fulfilled, or, in other words, whether the product is
perfect or not.
But, of course, this simple notion of perfection, in the Abstract
sense of being finished, often merges in a conception idea of
much more abstract. For a number of finished articles ype
of the same kind inevitably suggest a pattern or type,
by which all such things must be judged. If they tally in human
with the type, they are perfect ; but if they do not so
tally, then, however sure the maker may be that they
are finished, they are judged imperfect. And this habit
of forming in the mind ideal types has been extended
to many other things besides the works of man. Thus,
as soon as men conceive to themselves a type of the in objects
best race-horse, or the best rose, such ideals are con- human1*
sidered as finished, complete, perfect, and all particular mterest;
race-horses or roses are judged by the degree in which
they approximate to the conventional ideal. Then from
objects of man's particular delight, such as horses and
roses, this notion of an ideal by which all particular in all
objects must be judged is easily extended to all Nature.
'When, therefore,' says Spinoza, * men see anything in
Nature which scarcely agrees with the ideal conception
they cherish of that particular thing, they believe that
130 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
And so Nature herself has been at fault, and has left that thing
Nature is
supposed imperfect/ But this is a misimpression arising from
t0 ^^ • -^ Ml 1 • 1
failed of her an inveterate prejudice. For men will have it that
Nature had the particular end in view and failed, when,
as it has already been shown, Nature has no end at all
in view. That eternal and infinite Being which we
Absurdity call God or Nature, is because He is. And this sublime
of the idea
where no necessity1 is equally predicable of Him when we con-
possible.18 ceive of Him as acting and causing and directing. If
He is because He is, He acts because He is, and the
action is as determinate as the Being. As Spinoza puts
it : ' the reason, therefore, or cause why God or Nature
acts and why He exists is one and the same.'
The being Can it be said that God is, or exists for any purpose ? 2
incommen- No ; even the very late Hebrew editor who redacted the
purpose?11* firsfc vision of Moses on Sinai appears to have felt the
absurdity of such a question when he interpreted the
traditional name Jahweh as equivalent to 'I AM that
I AM.' To assign an object or purpose to the Infinite
who embodies in Himself all possible purposes would
But if so, surely imply a defect in reverence. But if the Being
action™ nas no purpose, what we call the divine action, which
g onty an asPect °f Being revealed to human activity,
haveSnoan can nave no purpose either. This aspect of the divine
purpose, nature also is because it is, and has no other reason.
The idea of 'final causes' of action, involving motive
1 A free necessity, because external compulsion is out of the
question.
2 If it be said that God exists for the good of His creatures, it
should be remembered that the creatures are all * parts and propor
tions ' of God. But when we speak of anything existing for a purpose,
we always mean a purpose outside itself.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 131
and purpose, is therefore inconsistent with infinite and
eternal Being.
How then has the belief in final causes for divine origin of
action arisen ? Clearly from the inveterate human habit Sooirase
of measuring everything by desire. Thus when we say
that habitation is the final cause of this or that house,
we mean that a man, having conceived the comforts of
domestic life, had the desire of building a house in which
those comforts might be secured. Now this order of
thought pervades all human life, in which every action
has its motive ; and that motive is desire, of which the
fulfilment constitutes a final cause at which the action
aims. It was therefore inevitable that as men began from false
to think about the powers actuating Nature, and to ar al°gy>
personify or defy them, they should assume, as a matter
of course, that final causes held in the world of the
gods a place precisely similar to that which they hold
amongst men. And this false analogy was persistently
maintained throughout the whole course of religious
evolution from animism or fetishism through polytheism,
henotheism, and even up to the most refined monotheism.
At this last stage, however, the inconsistency between the false-
God's eternity and the attribution to Him of temporal whiehfc
or temporary purpose was felt very early in the growth
of Christian theology, and becomes abundantly evident
in the devotional paradoxes of St. Augustine. But intheism
proportion as Monotheism merges in Pantheism, those
devotional paradoxes grow increasingly unreal, until
they are transfigured into the ' intellectual love of God '
preached by Spinoza, the love which drops the notion and aban-
of divine purpose, being content to know that things Panthdsm.
132
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
are because they are, and could not have been other
wise, since if the Whole could be realised, they are
eternally perfect.1
This surrender of any belief in ' eternal purpose ' need
not, however, prevent our treating of Nature's 'con-
Nature's
contriv
ances and
providential . in,! • •
purpose as tnvances, and of the concatenation of events in human
a modus
cogitandi.
Case of
' natural
selection.
history as though superhuman purpose were really in
volved. For that is a convenient modus cogitandi,
fruitful enough in suggestion. It is like the injection
of colouring matter in microscopic anatomical prepara
tions — not a real part of the object to be studied, yet
serving to make the relation of parts more obvious to
human faculty. Thus Darwinians have often spoken
and do still speak of the ' purpose ' for which an insect
proboscis was gradually lengthened and shaped by
'natural selection,' or the blubber of the whale was
exaggerated, or a nictitating membrane given to the
eyes of various tribes, or the fur of the mole caused
to grow erect. Yet all the while the essential assump
tion of the theory is that there was no 'purpose' at
all. Nevertheless the licence of language has been
found highly convenient ; for the supposition of a special
purpose in a variation is a short and emphatic way of
stating its particular use. And since, in speaking of
the Eternal All, we are necessarily limited by the finite
modes of human speech, a similar licence must be allowed
to the Pantheist, provided only that we are as well on
our guard as Naturalists against the superstitions en
gendered by a mere necessity of finite thought.
1 On Spinoza's use of this epithet, as distinct from the use he
condemns, see farther on,
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 133
The conclusion is that the ascription of final cause Spinoza's
or purpose to Infinite God must be classed among what reality. '
Spinoza calls 'inadequate ideas' ; that is, it is a case
in which ( God has this or that idea, not merely so far
as He forms the nature of the human mind, but in so
far as He has at the same time with the human mind
the idea also of another thing ' while this also involves
another thing, and so on ad infinitum. In other words,
our impression is an illusion arising from the impossi
bility of seeing or conceiving the whole Universe at
once. Hence it is obviously presumptuous to apply to
the divine action a test derived from the harmony or
otherwise of His works and ways with human desire.
Yet if we cannot suppress the consciousness that some
things in the Universe please us better than others,
there is a truer standard of comparison than that of
human desire. Not that it is entirely free from anthropo
morphism; but, at any rate, it is not so liable to
superstitious abuse. According to the Master, this is
the degree of reality involved. For while all creatures Degrees of
interest
have their being in God, some, at least to our human propor-
perceptions, have more being than others. For instance, intensity
a crystal is more interesting than an amorphous mass, and °
its more complicated structure impresses us with a feel
ing of greater intensity of being. In the same way a
living cell is more complicated still, and has yet more
of being. Thus we may ascend from degree to degree
of complication till we reach human mind, human genius,
a Plato, an Augustine, a Shakespeare. On the other hand,
some objects and creatures are, to our feeling, charac
terised by limitation and negation rather than by positive
134 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
imperfec- qualities : such as a child born blind and deaf, or an
tion is
negation, idiot, or an incompetent fool. For it is by negation
that these come short of their types. Such we may
call imperfect, if we like, and regard them as possessing
less of reality than other creatures of their kind. But
this is not because they lack anything properly belong
ing to them as finite modes of the divine attributes ;
nor has Natura Naturans, in forming them, committed
but does any mistake. For this would imply that in their
a mistake creation — to use accustomed phraseology — a higher
ne' purpose was possible and missed. But as already seen,
this is inadmissible. For, as Spinoza writes, 'nought
belongs to anything in Nature except that which follows
necessarily from its efficient cause,1 and whatever follows
from the necessity of the nature of an efficient cause,
is inevitable.'
In following the Master through such inexorable
Weakness reasoning we are haunted by the shadow of evil as we
' have felt it in our own lives, and are at times tempted
almost to think that he is mocking us with a hardy denial
of black realities which sometimes threaten to make life
unendurable. But Spinoza is much too profoundly in
earnest to indulge in a mocking vein, and rarely has
recourse even to gentle satire. He does not for a moment
deny the personal miseries of our human bondage.
Undoubtedly, for those who insist that God must exist
for a purpose, and that purpose the happiness of our
selves, the Master's teaching is useless and hopeless.
1 The particular ' efficient cause ' is, of course, only a link in the
infinite network of causation, which, sub specie eternitatis, is a
standing and motionless system.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 135
Still, for those of more open mind it is worth while to
hear what he has to say on the problem of evil.
' As to Good and Evil they connote nothing actual in Spinoza on
things themselves, nor are they anything hut modes ofg^and
thought or notions formed by comparison of things with each
other. For one and the same thing may be at the same time
good and evil, and also neutral. Thus music is good for
brooding melancholy, bad for acute sorrow, and for the deaf
neither good nor bad. Yet however this may be, we must
stick to the terms' — good and evil — 'for since we desire to
form an ideal of human nature for contemplation, it will be
useful to us to retain these words in the sense I have assigned
to them. And so in what follows I shall understand by ' good '
whatever we know clearly (certainly) to be a mean whereby
we may approach more and more to that ideal of human
nature which we set before us. By evil, on the other hand,
I shall understand whatever we clearly know to hinder us
from attaining that ideal. Farther we shall call men perfect
or imperfect in so far as they approach to or fall short of
that ideal.'
It will be observed that the Master here says nothing Spinoza's
about pain or disease. But it is implied that such
things are evil only when they prevent the attainment
of ideal manhood. For they may very well be good, if
in any case they promote its attainment. Are we then
to suppose that Spinoza was indifferent to, or rejoiced in
the dread disease which carried him off in the flower of
his age ? No ; but he believed himself to have only ' an
inadequate idea ' of it. That is, as more than once explained
by his
explained before in terms of the Master, the persecuted theory of
sick and ailing Spinoza was only part of a divine idea, ideas.
while his true significance could not be attained without
a comprehension of the rest of that divine idea ; and this
136 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
would involve a comprehension of the Infinite which is
unknowable. Now, whether we approve of this attitude
of mind or not, it at least enables us to understand in
what sense the Master declares that everything in the
Universe is perfect. For he means that it could be no
other without marring the harmony of the divine
Whole.
Plea of What bearing has this upon the often pathetic pleas
desire of individual desire ? Such pleas have, as we shall find,
their proper place in disciplined efforts towards the
attainment of ideal manhood. But as bearing upon the
perfection or imperfection of the Universe, they have no
relevancy; they are nil. For just as in Cyclopsean
masonry the most eccentric and distorted stones, as well
as the most symmetrical, fill a place and exert a pressure
in compacting and balancing the whole, so everything in
Nature and life that seems to us abnormal and even
Things repulsive is essentially necessary in precisely that
Srabie11 *' abnormal or repulsive form. And we may in faith
human presume that if our inadequate idea of such dark features
view^nay °^ Nature could be made adequate in the sense of seeing
to the6ntial khem as God sees them — in all their relationships to the
perfection infinite Whole — we should not desire to alter them if we
of the
Universe, could.
Suggestive- Even in our ignorance we can occasionally see that if
human our idea of what we call an evil were supplemented by a
lce' perception of only finite wider relationships, we should
cease to call it evil. For is not this human life of ours,
with its endurance and its heroisms, noble in our eyes ?
But how, without suffering, could it have been what it
is ? Undoubtedly its moral glory has been kindled by
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 137
the stress of conflict through which it has passed. And
the afflictions which in each generation were mourned
as evil, have produced greater good.
Yet though such reflections may seem to throw some This not
bpmoza s
little light on the mysteries of sorrow, it must be con- method,
fessed that they fall far short of the Master's method,
not only in scope, but in principle. For he, denying
that the action any more than the being of the Eternal
can have any purpose at all, finds everything perfect in
the sense of sharing in the absolute EeaHty. Or, in
other words, each part and proportion, when imagina
tively considered in all its relations, is just what it ought
to be, neither more nor less, as a constituent of the
Eternal.
But if it be asked why then should we try to alter why then
anything, seeing that all is as it should be ? the answer alter any-
is not so difficult as it seems. For this very tendency to
change is part of the perfect order of Nature. And the
inspiration, of which we are in various degrees conscious,
to modify ourselves or other things in the direction of a
human purpose or an ideal, is as essential to the complete
ness of the Universe as is gravitation or cohesion. The
fundamental antithesis between the eternity of the Eternity
and time.
Universe and our human perception of temporal succes
sions of change within its parts belongs to the region of
the unknowable, which was perhaps not sufficiently
recognised by Spinoza. But granting this, we may freely
assert that the necessity laid upon us of dealing with
phenomenal changes in our pursuit of human purpose is
not in the least inconsistent with Spinoza's theory, that,
as eternal being and doing are determined by the divine
138 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Nature, so the phenomenal existence and phenomenal
action in time of every finite part is determined by the
derivative nature it possesses in virtue of being a mode
of some infinite attribute of God. There is nothing in
all this to neutralise the only genuine freedom, which
is action from within, as distinguished from action by
compulsion from without. Nor ought the joy of moral
power and of devotion to high ends to be in the least
diminished by the certain truth that it belongs to an
ordered Whole.
Instinct of Throughout this Part of Spinoza's Ethics, as in the pre-
self-preser- .
vation in- ceding Parts, the instinct of self-preservation is assumed
eraclicable
but fallible, as fundamental. But while ineradicable, it may be
misguided, and may even take that for self-preservation
which is really self-destruction. If it be asked how this
can happen in a Universe identical with God, the answer
has already been given, for no purpose l of God is
defeated ; and our conception of the human tragedy is an
' inadequate idea.'' If we could see it as God sees it, and
all that He sees along with it, we should know that it
forms part of the perfection of the Whole.
Definitions. The definitions given at the beginning of this Part
need not detain us, for they have already been anticipated
in our paraphrase of the preface, We know what the
Master means by ' good ' and ' evil.' Things contingent
are so in appearance only ; and so with things possible.
Yet their apparent contingency and possibility have
much to do with our moral trials. The end or final cause
for which we do anything is the fulfilment of desire.
Virtue and Power are identical. ' That is, virtue so far
1 See pages 134-136.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 139
as it belongs to man is the essential being or nature of
the man, so far as he possesses the power of achieving
such things as may be understood solely through the
laws of his own nature.' My own understanding of this
I would illustrate thus. When Socrates refused to join Socrates
in putting to the Assembly the illegal vote of vengeance illegal vote.
on the victors of Arginusae for their alleged neglect, he
acted according to the essence of his own nature, apart
from external influences. His claim to inspiration at
such crises does not in the least interfere with the fitness
of the illustration. Because according to the doctrine of
Spinoza the man Socrates was a finite modification of
certain divine attributes. Such modified attributes con
stituted the essential being of the individual, and so long
as the influences under which he acted fell within the
limits of those modified attributes, what he did could be
understood * solely through the laws of his own nature.'
Thus the virtue and the power of Socrates were one and
the same.
But now let us take a very different case, that of Judas
Judas Iscariot — the historicity of details being of no
importance to our purpose. Now the essence of Judas
was also a finite modification of infinite divine attributes.
And on Spinoza's theory, if Judas had acted solely from
influences falling within the limits of those finite modi
fications, he could not have gone wrong. But the possible
rewards of iniquity excited the passion of greed which
enslaved him. He acted no more as a free man moved
by impulses spontaneously arising within, and explicable
only by the laws of his own nature. He was no longer
governed by reason, but became the slave of passion.
140 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Thus virtue became impossible just in proportion as
power was lost, and vice was victorious.1
passivity Such is the view of human nature assumed throughout
and what
it implies, the Fourth Part of the Ethics. We are passive, or we
suffer — not necessarily pain, but servitude — so far as our
part in Nature cannot be clearly conceived by itself or
apart from other things — or, as we might put it, so long
as we have no individuality. Undoubtedly this sounds
strange, coming from a teacher who regarded God and
the Universe as identical, and who insisted that the
infinite is indivisible. But, as I have had occasion to
observe elsewhere, even Spinoza could not always adapt
the imperfections of language to his purpose. And,
taking the whole context into view, I think it probable
that what Spinoza has immediately in view here is not
the primary idea of the man as a finite modification of
certain divine attributes, but rather the secondary con
ception thence arising of an apparent centre of spontaneous
action. A man who acts from reason feels his impulses
rise within himself and is free. But a man who acts
from passion — i.e. passive susceptibility to outward
attractions or repulsions — is drawn hither and thither
against his judgment, and is a slave. In the one case —
according to Spinoza — the man's doings are explicable
from the laws of his own nature alone as a finite and
definite expression of God; in the other we have to
account for much by delusive external images, temptations
and snares. Or, as the Master otherwise puts it, the man
under moral bondage is ' an inadequate cause.'
1 It must not be supposed that I regard such details of Spinoza's
system as infallible, but they are worth understanding.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 141
But it is not suggested that man can cease to be a Absolute
part of Nature, or withdraw himself wholly from external ^ externa?
influence. All that can be done is to consider carefully imp^ssSL
our natural and social surroundings, and to strive, as
far as in us lies, to keep the proper development of our
individuality free from undue submission to forces from
without. And this is no easy task. For * the force and A test of
servitude.
increase of any passion, together with its persistence, is
not limited by the strength of our instinct of self-pre
servation, but by the proportion between this and the
force of an external cause.' l And thus ' the strength of
any passion or affection may overwhelm all the rest of a
man's energies 2 or power ; so that the affection may
obstinately stick to the man.' (Prop, vi.)
Venturing again to illustrate the Master by our own niustra-
observations of life, we may recall cases of dipsomania victim of
in which the victim is perfectly aware that he is drink- dl
ing himself to death. He does not want to die, but
' the force and increase of the passion ' for drink 'is not
limited by ' the poor creature's instinct of self-preserva
tion, ' but only by the proportion between this and the
force of the external cause,' which latter is in this case
overwhelming.
Is there then no help ? Yes, there is. But such A possible
passions ' can neither be controlled nor removed except
by an impression (affectum) contrary to and stronger
than the passion to be controlled.' It is necessary there
fore to discuss the considerations affecting the relative
1 Prop, v., Pt. iv. ; see also demonstration of Prop, vi., Pars. iv.
2 A ctiones — but the word here is equivalent to the whole being as
active, which is fairly expressed by the sum of energy.
142 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Conditions powers of various feelings. Thus we learn that affections
affecting . .
thestrength arising from causes realised as present are stronger than
tions. those dependent on remote contingencies. (Prop, ix.)
Here again we may bring our experience of life to bear.
For cases have been known in which an apparently
hopeless drunkard, being suddenly confronted by some
special circumstances, with the results of cruelty in
flicted on wife and children by his indulgence,1 has really
felt the force of an impression contrary to and stronger
Present than the passion that has debased him. Yet mere warn-
influences .
stronger ings of future effects of his conduct have been of no use.
than future m. , _ . . ..
orcontin- The same advantage of causes realised as present over
those regarded as remote contingencies might also be
illustrated by the greater social influence of the actual
millionaire as compared with that of the brilliant but
impecunious young man who has just proved himself a
genius. And, generally speaking, we know how hard it
has been for ourselves, and how difficult it has been to
persuade others, to set the probable gain of ten years
hence against the enthralling attractions of immediate
pleasure or ease. Similarly, hard present facts, such as
the need of bread, have more influence in stimulating
exertion than the contingent or possible advantages
promised to temporary self-denial for purposes of self-
culture.
Knowledge Even true knowledge of good and evil — that is, of
power must what makes for and against self-preservation in its
feeling? highest sense, attainment of the ideal self — does not
control passion unless that knowledge takes the form
1 The records of the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Children show many such cases.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 143
of mental affection, or, as we should say, of a feeling,1
a saying which is merely a remarkable instance of the
common-sense always underlying Spinoza's philosophy.
Now, according to previous lessons, knowledge of good
or evil is itself nothing but a feeling or affection of joy
or grief, that is, consciousness of passage to a greater
or a lesser degree of perfection. Thus the man halting
between right principle and temptation to evil is moved
alternately by a sense of the higher good which righteous
ness would be, and by a passion for the evil indulgence
which, to a part of his nature, is so attractive. But The moral
unfortunately true knowledge of good and evil can too in Rom. vii.
easily be prevented by desires of a low or limited nature
from conversion into an adequate impulse or feeling for
good. And this is specially the case when the good is
future and the inferior attraction present as well as
pleasant.
At this point we come upon a very noteworthy feature
of the Master's ethical teaching. ' Other things being
equal,' he says, ' desire arising from joy is stronger than The fruit-
desire arising from grief.' (Prop, xviii., Pt. iv.) NoWj^essof
Spinoza's own life was too full of persecution, affliction,
and — from a worldly point of view — disappointment and
failure and loss to allow any suspicion here of Epicurean
illusion. And though, when we consider the prevalence
of suffering and tears and blood in many epochs of
humanity's re-birth to a higher life, the utterance appears
at first sight paradoxical, we cannot ignore it as we might
1 This is my interpretation of Prop. xiv. Much dispute might be
raised as to the technicalities. But Prop. viii. of this Part seems to
justify the above as the substantial meaning.
144 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
the self-gratulatory chuckle of a prosperous gold-grubber.
Let us try, by the aid of the demonstration appended to
the proposition, to make out the meaning, and then let us
An idea illustrate it if we can from human experience. We
on the must first, however, remind ourselves that, according to
previous ~ . . ., « , />
definition Spinoza, joy is the passage from a less perfect to a more
ofjoy' perfect state, while grief is the passage from a more
perfect to a less perfect state. Now, desire is of the very
essence of man, being involved in the effort to persist in
his essential being. So then desire arising from joy —
i.e. the passage from a less perfect to a more perfect state
— must needs be stronger than desire arising from sorrow
— i.e. the passage from a more perfect to a less perfect
state. For, as Spinoza puts it, the force of desire arising
from joy has two co-operant causes, the external object
of desire and the inward exuberance. But in the case
of desire actuated by grief the external object is
negative, being the shadow of a loss, or the passage
from a greater to a less degree of perfection, and there
remains only the human longing which cannot be
weighed against the exuberance of impulse in the
other case. But if this appears to be merely a formal
or technical plea, we have only to turn to the most
thrilling records of human experience to recognise how
remarkably the Master's apparently most abstract state
ments do often suggest the very life and soul of man's
moral glory.
•The joy of Perhaps the most conspicuous example is to be found
i^youT* ^n tne outburst of resurrection joy during the rise of
strength.* Christianity. Whatever may have been the nature of
the alleged historical events, with regard to which our
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 145
attitude here is one of comparative indifference,1 it is
indisputable that during the first century A.D. a wave of
moral impulse rolled triumphantly from Syria over Asia
Minor, Greece, Macedonia, and Italy. This moral impulse The resur-
tended toward human brotherhood, equality, purity, and ofCpristmJ
a ' Kingdom of God/ identical with the Eepublic of Man. °^istian-
And the chief note of this sacred impulse was one of
unutterable joy, which was embodied in prophetic music
because it could not find expression in prosaic speech.
' Who shall separate us from the love of Christ ? Shall Rom. viii.
Q£»
tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine or naked
ness, or peril or sword ? . . . Nay, in all these things we
are more than conquerors through him that hath loved
us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor
angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present
nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other
creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God
which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' There is abundant
allusion here to the self-sacrifice essentially incidental
to the Christian profession. But there is no minor tone
of lamentation or grief. On the contrary, there is a
triumphant realisation of the passage from a lesser to a
greater perfection; and the rapture of concentration upon
the divine ideal, the joy set before the saint, is swollen
by the tide of that progress from a narrower to a larger
life. It would be needless to multiply extracts ; for the Confirmed
above utterance recalls a score of others in the New
generally
1 Those who regard this as an illogical position would do well to and
consult the history of the Babi movement in Persia. Of the moral
revival there can be no question. If this was largely caused by
imagination and personal magnetism in the nineteenth century, so
may it have been in the first century.
K
146 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Testament, and many words of the Apostolic Fathers,
which amply justify the familiar assertion that, despite
all the stress of spiritual conflict, the chief note of the
earliest Christian literature is one of exuberant joy.
The much inferior and in many respects divergent
Reformers, movement of the Protestant Eeformation might afford
other illustrations. For there is no douht that Luther,
Zwingli, Calvin, Knox, and their followers felt or be
lieved themselves to be passing from a less perfect to
a more perfect state ; or that it was the thrill of joy in
their experience which gave them an unconquerable
energy of desire. Or if we turn from Church History to
Patriots, political and social movements, the same note of joy in
the passage from a less perfect to a more perfect state
is recognisable even in the grim energy of Cromwell's
Ironsides, and still more in the apostles of popular
liberty and freedom of trade. The Mazzinis, the Gari
baldis, the Cobdens, and the Brights of history have not
been whining, melancholy pessimists, but men rejoicing
in the inspired conviction that they were raising not
themselves only but their nation, or even mankind, from
a lesser to a larger perfection. So that of them too it
might be said — giving to the sacred name its largest
interpretation — ' the joy of the Lord is your strength.'
At this point the Master interposes a short anticipa
tory excursus on the rules of Eeason, which I quote as
closely as possible : —
Prop.xviii., < Thus briefly I have expounded the causes of human im-
Schol. , . J , , , ,
Anticipa- potence and inconstancy, and the reasons why men do not
tory excur- okserve the dictates of reason. It now remains that I should
sus on the . . .
rules of show what it is that Reason prescribes to us ; also which
Reason.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 147
affections are consistent with the rules of human reason, and
which are opposed to those rules. But before I begin to
prove this at full length by our geometrical method, I desire
here to give a short preliminary exposition of the dictates of
Reason in order that my convictions may be the more easily
appreciated by every one.
' Since Reason demands nothing contrary to Nature, she Reason
herself therefore demands that every one should love himself, thed&.ds
that he should seek what is useful to him — that is, what is veiopment
really useful — and that he should desire everything which self/6
truly leads a man to greater perfection ; and generally that
every one should strive as far as he can to preserve his own
essential being (suum esse conservare).1 This indeed is as
necessarily true as that the whole is greater than its part.
Moreover, since virtue is nothing else than action according
to the laws of our own nature,2 and no one may strive to
preserve his own essential being unless by the laws of his own
proper nature, hence it follows (1) that the basis of virtue is
the impulse itself to preserve one's own essential being, and
that happiness consists in a man's ability to preserve his own
being. (2) It follows that virtue is to be desired on its own
account, and that nothing is conceivably better than virtue
or more useful to us, with a view to which virtue should
be desired. (3) Lastly, it follows that those who commit
suicide are impotent in mind, and that they are utterly
overcome by external causes at discord with their own
nature. Moreover, it follows from Postulate 4, Part n.,1
1 The word « essential ' is, of course, an interpolation. But I think ^ tne
it is needed to give in English the true significance of Spinoza's Latin.
Of course the ultimate substance of the man is God, and for the pre
servation of this there can be no anxiety. But the essence of the
individual — qua individual — is a finite modification of certain Attri
butes of that Substance. And ' self-preservation ' in the man is the
guarding of his spontaneity within those limits against undue external
influences which cause inadequate ideas and reduce the man to an
* inadequate cause. '
2 Always understand the finite Mode of God constituting our nature.
3 'The human body needs for its preservation very many other
bodies by which it is, as it were, continually remade.'
148 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
that we cannot possibly succeed in putting ourselves beyond
the need of things external for the preservation of our being,
nor can we so live as to have no intercourse with things out
side us ; and further, so far as concerns our Mind, certainly
our intellect would be more imperfect, if the Mind existed
alone and had no understanding of anything beyond itself.1
There are therefore given many external things which are
The most useful to us, and which on that account are to be desired.
element^6 ^ut °^ these none can ^e conceived more excellent than
of the those which entirely harmonise with our own nature. For
if two individual things of entirely the same nature are
those most joined together, they form an individual twice as powerful
witnaour°ny as either when separate. To man, therefore, there is nothing
nature. more useful than man ; nothing, I say, can men desire more
Hence excellent for the preservation of their essential being, than
sTreS " that a11 snould so harmonise in all respects that the Minds and
important. Bodies of all should make up, as it were, one Mind and one
Body ; and that all with one impulse, to the extent of their
power, should strive to preserve their essential being, and
that all with one impulse should seek, as for themselves, the
common good of all. From which considerations it follows
that men who are ruled by Reason, that is, men who by the
guidance of Reason seek their own good (utile), will crave
nothing for themselves that they do not desire for all other
men, and thus be just, loyal (Jtdos\ and honourable.'
The law ' Such are those dictates of Reason which I had purposed
vehement nere briefly to set forth before beginning to prove them by
is not to he the longer method. And the object with which I have done
vdth°pas-et it is to win> if possible, the attention of those who regard as
sions of the very essence of impiety, and certainly not the foundation
selfishness. J . . , , *
of virtue and piety, my principle that every man is bound to
1 Contemporary psychology would regard this as an impossible
supposition, since the mind's knowledge of itself is supposed to be
brought about by contact with the not- self. But the main issue, our
dependence on what is called an external world for fulness of life, is
not affected. For my part I do not believe that the old[sharp division
between self and not-self is essential.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 149
seek his own good. Now, therefore, having shortly pointed
out that the exact contrary is the case, I hasten to go on
with my demonstration in the same way by which we have
hitherto advanced.'
The purport of the above extract is to remove preju- Succeeding
dice and to facilitate an understanding of the proofs that tions negii-
follow. But it really does more ; at least for the modern
reader. For if the latter's aim is a basis for ethical
practice, and not a curious study of seventeenth-century
dialectics, these general observations may save him anxiety
about the proofs of many succeeding propositions, if he
should find them apparently unconvincing or unnecessary.
He believes the teaching, or he does not, and in either
case the reason is really independent of the so-called
' geometrical method/ and depends upon the attraction And pro-
or repulsion of his sympathy. It would therefore be aonlyocca-
waste of time laboriously to pursue the series of demon- be quoted?
strations by which the above ethical lessons are sus
tained. And even the propositions need not be quoted
except where they add to or modify or explain the concise
statements of the above extract.
For instance, in a Scholium to Prop. xx. we are re- ideal self-
assured as to the sort of self-preservation identified with tion.
virtue. That it is not the gross love of life at any cost
is made clear. For, notwithstanding the previous con
demnation of suicide, the act of Seneca is approved on
the ground that he sought ' to avoid a greater evil by a
less.' From which it is clear that the self-preservation
Spinoza has in view is persistence in the divine idea of
the finite self. It is in this sense that the greatest energy
of self-preservation is identified with the highest virtue.
150 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Virtue and We also learn in the succeeding propositions what is
meant by the words, ' Virtue is nothing else than
action according to the laws of our own nature' — that
is, without undue interference by external causes. Thus
no man is regarded as being actuated entirely by virtue
who is determined by inadequate ideas to do this or
that; because the inadequate ideas imply undue inter
ference of causes outside his own nature, Virtue, at
least in its purity, is predicated only of the man who is
impelled by what he clearly understands. Now, it is
undeniable that this language sounds like a mere techni
cality of an arbitrary system. But there is sound sense at
the back of it for all that. Let us illustrate by an instance
which will also show within what limits we should take
the assertion that a virtuous man is actuated ' by what
Henry vm. he clearly understands.' King Henry vm. was perhaps
Thomas not wholly bad ; but it cannot be said that his policy as
a ruler was guided by adequate ideas, or that he clearly
understood his own motives. Thus in securing, through
Thomas Cromwell, the passage of a novel Treason Act,
making traitors of all who doubted the legitimacy of his
second marriage, he was certainly impelled by causes
lying quite outside the divine idea of his kingship, as
defined by the human expression of God1 within the
1 ' The human mind is part of the infinite intellect of God ; and
accordingly when we say that the human mind perceives this or that,
we say nothing other than that God, not in so far as He is infinite,
but in so far as He is expressed by the human mind, or so far as He
constitutes the essence of the human mind, has this or that idea.
And when we say that God has this or that idea, not only so far as
He constitutes the nature of the human mind, but so far as He has
together with the human mind the idea of some other thing, then we
say that the human mind perceives the thing in part or inadequately.'
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 151
limits assigned by historical evolution to an English
king of the time.
But now take the case of Sir Thomas More, the victim Distinction
., , of the case
of that novel treason law. Of him it is impossible to Of sir
say with truth that he saw far into the future, or at least More!aS
understood the sort of Nemesis that the king and Thomas
Cromwell were preparing. But this thing at any rate he
understood; that wrong could not be right; and that to
acknowledge the legitimacy of a marriage clean contrary
to all the sanctions associated by his conscience with the
marriage rite would be a treason against divine order,
and infinitely more guilty than disobedience to any ' law
of a carnal commandment.' It may therefore be said
that Sir Thomas More acted from causes that he under
stood ; while King Henry acted from ' inadequate ideas.'
From this we are led to see that good and evil things Prop, xxvii.
are to be judged by the one test : do they conduce to
understanding, or do they hinder it ? That is, do they ™0edhighest
help toward that serene clarity of spiritual vision pos
sessed by Sir Thomas More in his supreme hour, or do
they hinder it ? But if this be so, then the highest good
of the mind must be the knowledge of God, that is — as I
take it — of our relation as parts to the Whole, which
relation imposes upon us a duty of unreserved loyalty.1
(Prop, xi., Pt. ii., Coroll.) Which I apply to Henry vm. thus. His
attempts to make Parliament merely the registering court of a despotic
will were an essential element in the forces preparing the revolution
of the following century. They were in that sense part of the divine
order of the world. This answers to Spinoza's 'some other thing'
which was in the mind of God, but not in the mind of Henry. The
idea of the latter therefore was ' inadequate. '
1 ' The highest good of the Mind is the knowledge of God ; and the
supreme virtue of the Mind is to know God.' — Prop, xxviii., Part iv.
152 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Having reached this lofty point of view, we are made
Practical to descend to some practical details, and to consider what
details.
rules of life may help toward that highest good. Thus
so far as anything harmonises with our nature — always
Props. understand our divine nature — it is good. Thus, for
instance, the majesty or the sweet insinuations of natural
scenery, the alluring mysteries of organic life, and the
impressive march of human history, are all in harmony
with our nature, and of necessity good, in the sense
already given, that is, they conduce to our understanding
of our place in the world. And generally everything is
good so far as it harmonises l with our nature understood
as above.
It follows that, apart from the imperfections caused by
obedience to passion rather than reason, our fellow-men
Whatman are, in a higher degree than anything else in Natura
needs most
is man. Naturata, good for us and helpful to us. Because, of
course, they have most points of harmony with our
individual humanity. But the drawbacks to so cheerful
a view are many. For men are very generally subject to
Prop.xxxii., passion, that is, to moral impotence ; and as Spinoza will
Schol.
nave it, mere agreement in negations cannot constitute
harmony of nature. Or, to put it in more vulgar fashion,
two boys who are equally indolent, selfish, and incapable
of moral aspiration, are the worst possible companions
Prop. for each other. Again, men buffeted by passions are
constantly brought into conflict one with another, and
And man instead of helping, devour one another. In fine, it is
finds man ..
when each only so far as men are governed by reason that there can
is governed
1 That is, as I understand, so far as it does not oppose, but promotes,
the evolution of the individual ideal.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 153
be a real harmony of nature between them and mutual
help toward the ideal life. And though, when put in
that way, this sounds too philosophical for 'human
nature's daily food,' yet if for ' reason ' we substitute
loyalty to the best we know, with the desire to know
more, together with a temper of sincerity and honour,
this is very much what Spinoza means by ' reason.' Practical
Thus interpreted, the above doctrine is plain common- the doc
trine,
sense.
Men governed by reason in this sense will always Root of the
enthusiasm
desire to be useful to others and to share with them a of human
ity.
form of wealth that is increased and not lessened by
giving. Also this desire will always be the greater in
proportion to the knowledge of God attained by such
men, that is, their knowledge of their relation as parts to
the infinite Whole. But here again it may be well to
quote as nearly as possible the Master's own words : —
' Whosoever, actuated merely by feeling, strives that others Prop,
should love what he loves, and that others should live in I"™'!
accordance with his notions, acts solely from impulse, and is Benevo-
on that account hateful, especially to those who prefer other ^uise
things, and who on that very account also desire, and by the inferior to
same impulse strive that others should on the contrary live volence of
according to their notions. Moreover, since the highest good Eeason-
which men desire by force of feeling is often of such a
nature that only one person may possess it, hence it follows
that they who love it are not inwardly consistent, and while
they glory in reciting the praises of the thing they love, are
alarmed lest they should be believed.1 But he who strives
to lead others by reason does not act from impulse but from
1 What is really meant seems to be ' lest they should be so far
believed that others should be impelled to obtain possession of the
object so praised.'
154
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Social
loyalty.
' Natural '
and civic
humanity
in relation
to the
moral law.
human sympathy and kindness, and inwardly1 he is perfectly
at one with himself. Moreover, I regard as Religion every
desire and action of which we are ourselves the cause through
having the idea or the knowledge of God.2 But Piety I call
that desire of well-doing which is begotten in us by the life
according to Eeason. The desire, again, by which every man
living according to Keason is possessed to unite others to
himself in friendship I call honour '—(social loyalty)— 'and
I call that honourable which men, living according to Eeason,
praise ; and that, on the contrary, base which is inconsistent
with the bonds of amity. . . . Again, the difference between
real virtue and impotence is easily gathered from the above.
For plainly real virtue is nothing else than life strictly
according to reason. And thus impotence consists in this
alone, that a man suffers himself to be led by things outside
himself, and is determined by them to do, not what is
required by his own proper nature regarded in itself alone,
but (what is required) by the current order (communis con-
stitutio] of outward things.'
In a succeeding Scholium the Master draws a note
worthy distinction between the natural and the civic —
or, if we like the word better — the social state of man.
Thus he denies that man in his natural state is bound by
any law to consider anything other than his own con
venience and pleasure. But if we are startled by such
1 Mente — as in the preceding sentence.
2 Literally, ' whatever we desire and do of which we are the cause
so far as we have the idea of God, or so far as we have the knowledge
of God, I refer to Religion.' I submit, however, that if the writer had
been English, and written in his own tongue, the above is what he
would have said. But, as premised in the first sentences of this para
phrase, Spinoza is made needlessly obscure by our forgetfulness of his
Pantheism. Thus, in the present case, he does not in the least suggest
that the Jewish Jahweh, or personal God, must be thought of at
every moment in order to make our lives religious, but rather that
everything is so, which we desire and do consistently with the sense
of our being infinitesimal parts of one perfect Whole.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 155
a doctrine, let us ask ourselves whether lions and tigers
and wolves are bound, so far as their conscious impulses
are concerned, by any other law than that of appetite ?
Surely no one will pretend it for a moment. And if we pr0p.
try to make a moral difference between such creatures gjhoi! 2.
and ' natural ' man, the effort is only an indication that
we are still influenced by obsolete traditions of man's
miraculous origin. But on the theory of evolution the
Master is obviously right. There was a time when, so
far as conscious impulse1 was concerned, men were 'a
law unto themselves ' just as much as lions and tigers
are.
Now such a stage of human evolution had obviously
less perfection, that is, less fulness of being, than any
stage attained by man when awakened to a sense of God,
that is, a consciousness of being part of a Whole, which The God-
consciousness, being finite, is necessarily subject to regu- ness^nd5"
lations co-ordinating it with other parts. * In order that moral laWt
men may live harmoniously and be helpful to each other/
says the Master, ' it is necessary that they should yield
their natural right and mutually give security that they
will do nothing which would injure their neighbour.'2
1 This limitation is intended to prevent possible misunderstanding.
Because, of course, if by 'law' we mean regular and inevitable suc
cession, ' natural man ' in all his impulses and in every other respect
was as much subject to law as trees and stones and streams.
2 I do not read this as implying any anticipation of the eighteenth-
century myth of the contrat social. The passage only describes the
practical effect of natural man's evolution into the social state. Nor
do I see the slightest ground for the inference sometimes drawn that
Spinoza regarded the moral law as only ' positive,' or artificial, and
dependent on human authority. Not only the general tenour of his
writings, but his life, contradicts this. Nor does the passage follow
ing, in which he does discuss positive law, justify such a view of his
156 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
To attain this, they must have recourse to the principle
already laid down that no affection or impulse can be
controlled except by an affection or impulse both stronger
than and contrary to the affection to be controlled ; and
that in general every one will abstain from hurting
another if the injury will entail a greater hurt to him
self.
Society's { By this law, then, Society can be bound together if only it
seff-preser- can assert for itself the right which every individual has, of
vation defending himself, and make itself the judge of good and
Prop. evil. Provided also that Society must have the power of
Schol! 2. ordaining the community's order of living, and the power of
legislation, and of sanctioning its laws not merely by reason,
which cannot compel affections (or impulses), but by threats,
involves Now this Society, held together by laws and by the power of
menfofre- self-preservation, is called a State (Civitas), and those who
gulations, are defended by its jurisdiction are called Citizens. From all
this we readily gather that in a condition of nature there is
nothing declared to be good or evil by the consent of all.
of which Because every one, in a condition of nature, considers only
tioVis his own convenience, and according to his own fancy, having
crime. regard solely to the standard of his own convenience, deter
mines what is good or what is evil ; nor is he bound by any
law to obey any one but himself alone. Hence, in a con
dition of nature, crime (peccatum) cannot be conceived; but
teaching ; for he is there discussing the political definition of mutual
rights, and what is good for the State as a whole, not good in the
sense of that which helps each man to realise his ideal self. It is to
this aspect of higher manhood as res actit, existens that eternal
morality appertains — eternal in the sense that whenever and wherever
the same conditions occur, the same rule holds good. Spinoza's view
seems to have been that, when the sense of being parts of a whole
began to dawn, the need of living by reason began to be felt. And
Reason means the realisation — which may take many forms from
animism to pantheism — that man is a ' partaker of the divine nature,'
and subject to the eternal necessities of God's life. See Part v.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 157
only in the civic state in which, while good and evil are
determined by the general voice, every one is held bound to
obey the State. Crime, therefore, is nothing other than
disobedience, which accordingly is punished by State right
only • and, on the other hand, obedience is counted as merit
in a citizen because, on account of this very thing, he is
reckoned worthy to enjoy the advantages of the State.
Farther, in a condition of nature, no one by the general voice Property
is possessor of any single thing, nor does anything occur in Institution
nature which can be said to belong to this man and not to of nature,
that ; but all things belong to all. It follows that, in a con
dition of nature, there can be no disposition (voluntas) to
render to each his own, nor yet to take away from any man
what is his. In a word, no action can be called just or unjust
in a condition of nature, but only in the civic State where
the general voice determines what belongs to this man or to
that. From all which it results that justice and injustice,
crime and desert, are notions from without,1 and not attri
butes which manifest the nature of the mind.'
Passing over two propositions about the conservation
of a balance of motion and rest in the body, propositions
essential to the intellectual completeness of the system
but not to the practical lessons I am trying to emphasise,
I may summarise a number of succeeding propositions as
follows : —
All things are useful which make for social peace : Aphorisms,
whatever has the contrary effect is evil.
Joy, in its direct operation, is not evil but good : Grief, xii.
on the other hand, in its direct operation, is evil.
1 Notiones extrinsecas — i.e. generated by outward relations. The
practical meaning is that 'morals' are evolved only out of special
relations between special Modes of the divine Attributes — e.g. men.
But perhaps the * condition of nature,' as above, was prehuman rather
than human.
158
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
xlii.
xliii.
xliv.
Cheerfulness cannot be in excess; but it is always
good. On the other hand, Melancholy is always evil.
Pleasurable excitement may run to excess and be evil.
Pain may be good to the same extent as pleasurable
excitement or joy may be evil.
Love and sensual passion are subject to excess.
The Scholium here is worth quoting.
The mad
ness of
violent
passions.
Scholium. ' The affections (or passions) by which we are daily buffeted
have reference generally to some single part of the body
which part is more affected than any of the rest. And
accordingly the affections have an extreme excess and so hold
the mind fixed upon one sole object that it is unable to think
of others. And although men are exposed to many affections
(or passions), and accordingly very few are found who are
always buffeted by one and the same affection, yet there are
not wanting those to whom the same one affection obstinately
adheres. For we sometimes see men so much affected by one
object that even if it is not present they fancy that they have
it at hand. If such a thing befalls a man who is not asleep,
we say that he is delirious or mad. And not less are they
thought mad who burn with Love, and who day and night
dream of a mistress, or a paramour ; for they usually excite
laughter. But when the miser thinks of nothing else than
gain or treasures, and the ambitious man of glory, and so on,
these men are not believed to be mad ; they are rather offen
sive and considered deserving of hatred. But in very deed
Avarice, Ambition, Lust, and such like are a sort of madness,
although they are not reckoned as disease.'
Evil of
Hatred.
xlv.
xlvii.
Hatred can never be good — that is, hatred towards
men. He who lives by the guidance of reason endeavours
as much as possible to counteract by love or generosity
hatred, anger, and contempt toward himself.
Affections of Hope and Fear cannot in themselves be
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 159
good, but only so far as they serve to restrain the Hope and
excesses of Joy. ' So far as we strive to live by the guid
ance of Eeason, to that extent we shall depend less on
Hope, and free ourselves from Fear, while at the same
time we endeavour as far as possible to be lords of fortune
(fortunce imperare) and to direct our own actions by the
certain counsel of Eeason.'
The affections of Self-conceit and of Contempt are xiviii.
always evil.
Pity l is out of place in a man whose life is guided by 1.
Reason, and in itself is evil and useless.
The demonstration goes far to explain the paradox, and Paradox
on Pity.
runs thus : —
' Pity is sorrow and therefore in itself evil. But
the good which follows from pity, namely, that we en
deavour to free from his misery the man whom we pity,
is what we desire through the dictate of Reason alone to
effect. Nor can we achieve anything that we know clearly
to be good unless we do it by the dictate of Reason alone.
Therefore Pity in a man who lives by the guidance of
Reason, is evil in itself and useless.'
That is, help to the suffering should be prompted by
reason and not by passion.2 The Scholium is worth
giving at length : —
* He who fully knows that all things follow from the Sehol.
necessity of the divine nature, and are carried on according
1 Commiseratio. As said before, the attempt to render Spinoza's
Latin word for any Affection always by the same English word would
cause confusion on account of differences of connotation in different
passages.
2 Morbid sentiment may condemn sucli teaching. But if it were
followed for ten years in our land, idle vagrancy and social malinger
ing would be abolished.
160
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Gratitude.
to the eternal laws and rules of Nature, will surely find
nothing that is worthy of Hatred, Laughter, or Contempt.
Nor will he pity any one ; but so far as human virtue avails
he will endeavour, as the saying is, to do good and rejoice.1
To this we may add that he who is easily touched by the
sentiment of pity and is moved by the misery or tears of
another, often does something for which he is afterwards
sorry. This is partly because we do riot know clearly
that anything done from sentiment is good, and partly
because we do know clearly that we are easily deceived by
fraudulent tears. Of course, in the above remarks, I have in
view the man who lives by the guidance of reason. For he
who is not moved either by Reason or by Pity to help others,
such a creature is rightly called inhuman ; for he seems to
be alien to manhood.'
' Favour ' (in the sense of special love to a man who
has done good to another) ' is not contrary to reason, but
is in harmony with it, and may arise from it.'
Schoi. 'Indignation ' (in the sense of hatred to a man who has
Indignation
illegitimate, done harm to another) 'is essentially evil. But mark that
when the sovereign power, in virtue of the desire by
which it is actuated to defend the peace, punishes a
citizen who has done harm to another, I do not say that
the sovereign power shows indignation ; because it is not
by hatred impelled to the destruction of the citizen, but
it punishes him at the instigation of piety.'
Humility is not a virtue ; that is, it does not spring
from Eeason.
Penitence is not a virtue : that is. it does not spring
_>
from Reason.
These paradoxical utterances are necessitated by
Spinoza's fundamental principle that a man's essence is
1 * Trust in the Lord, and do good.' — Ps, xxxvii. 3.
Humility.
Penitence.
liv.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 161
his power, not his impotence. Therefore anything which
concentrates a man's attention on his impotence is bad ;
that is, it hinders the ideal self. There is more in this
than would at first sight appear. But it is admittedly
dangerous and is guarded by the following Scholium.
'Since men seldom live under the direction of Eeason,
these two affections, namely, Humility and Penitence, and, in Scholium
addition to these, Hope and Fear, do more good than harm ; ity^eS-"
and accordingly, since error is inevitable, it is better to err tence,
in that direction. For if men impotent in mind (i.e. morally Fear?' M
impotent) should all be as presumptuous l as they are weak,
they would scruple at nothing. And if they had nothing to
fear, by what bounds could they be held together and kept
in order ? The mob terrifies when it does not fear. And so
there is no wonder that the Prophets who had regard to the
advantage of all, and not of a few, should give such high
praise to Humility, Penitence, and Reverence. And indeed
those who are susceptible to these affections can be led much
more easily than others towards a life under the guidance of
Eeason, that is, toward freedom, and the enjoyment of the
life of the blessed.'
Either excessive pride or excessive self-depreciation Pride,
indicates both utter ignorance of one's self and extreme lv' and lvi'
impotence of mind.
Hence it follows that the proud and the despondent
are specially susceptible to affections (or passions).
The proud man loves the company of parasites or ivii.
flatterers, but that of the noble-minded he hates.
Here follows a Scholium : —
' It would be too long a task to reckon all the evils of Schol.
Pride ; since the Proud are susceptible to all passions and to Pride sus-
none less than those of Love and Pity. But here it must by HP^lQ
no means be forgotten that any man is called proud who passions.
1 So I take ceque omnes superMrent.
L
162
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
orityPen"
Pride and
extremes
thinks less of others than they deserve, and therefore with
The essence this understanding Pride is to be defined as Joy arising from
inJ°from1Sa a man's ^se noti°n that he is superior to the rest of men.
false idea And Self-depreciation (pusillanimity) in contrariety to this
Pride would be grief arising from a man's false notion that
he is inferior to the rest of mankind. But this being granted,
The oppo- we readily conceive that the proud man is necessarily envious,
site of pusil- an(j ^hat he regards with the utmost hatred those who are
lammity. .
most praised on account of their virtues. Nor can his hatred
of them be easily overcome by Love or kindliness. And he
Pride akin takes pleasure only in the company of those who humour his
to madness. jmp0tence Of mind, and from a fool turn him into a madman.
« Now although Self-depreciation (pusillanimity) is contrary
to Pride, yet the Despondent (pusillanimous) is next neighbour
^o fae proud. For since his Grief arises from measuring his
own impotence by the power or virtue of other men, that
Grief will therefore be lightened, or he will rejoice, if his
fancy should be engaged in the contemplation of other
people's vices. Hence the proverb, " The consolation of the
miserable is to have partners in affliction." And on the other
hand he will be all the more sad in proportion as he believes
himself debased below the rest of men. Whence it follows
that none are so prone to envy as the despondent (pusillani
mous) ; and also that such people for the most part watch
the actions of mankind more with a view to fault-finding
than to reformation ; so that at length they praise self-
depreciation for its own sake and glory in it, but so that
they may still seem to be despondent. Such consequences
follow from this mental affection as inevitably as it follows
from the nature of a triangle that its three angles are equal
The incon- to two right angles ; and I have already said that I call these
an(i similar mental affections bad (only) so far as I confine
my attention to the service of man alone. But Nature's
laws are concerned with the general order of Nature of
wn^cn Man ig a Part — a remark I make in passing, lest any
one should suppose that I have desired here to recount the
wickec[ and preposterous deeds of men, whereas I have
causeTto
mankind
passions
fan* 1 n dis
order in
Nature.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 163
sought only to set forth the nature and properties of things
(as they are). For as I have said in the Preface to the
Third Part, I look on the mental affections of man and their
properties just as I look on the rest of natural phenomena.
And indeed if the mental affections of man do not manifest
human power, at least they set forth that of Nature and also
her art, not less than many other things at which we wonder,
and by the contemplation of which we are delighted. But I
hasten on to note concerning the affections whatever is
productive of profit or loss to man.'
Glorying (i.e. joy in the thought of some action of ours Glory,
which we suppose others to praise) is not repugnant to
Keason and may even spring from Eeason.
Here it seemed necessary to the Master to exclude And vain-
' vainglory.' And this he does in a Scholium which fvSif,'
explains that the latter depends upon the shifting opinion Sc
of the mob. The implication is that true glory can be
sustained only by the praise of those who are steadfastly
guided by Eeason.
' As to Shame, all that is needed may be gathered from Shame.
what we have said about Pity and Penitence. This only I
add; that just like Compassion, Shame, though it be not a
virtue, is yet good in so far as it shows that the man affected
by Shame has in him a desire for an honourable life, even as
pain, so far as it shows that the injured part is not mortified,
is also good. Thus, even though a man ashamed of some
deed is of course subject to Grief, yet he has more of
perfection than the shameless one who has no desire for an
honourable life.
' This is all that I designed to say about the mental
affections of Joy and Grief. As to Desires, they are good
or evil according as they spring from good or evil affections.
But in truth, all desires, so far as they are begotten in us by
affections which are passions, are blind, nor would they be
164 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
in any way needed if men could easily be led to live under
the sole direction of Reason. And this I will now briefly
show.'
Reason We were taught at an earlier portion of this section
can supply
the place of the Ethics that knowledge, if it is to have practical
passion. power, must put on the nature of feeling, which of course
Prop. lix. is a form of passion in its technical sense. We now
have the converse lesson that reason may be as effectual
as feeling. But this does not contradict the previous
passage ; for more knowledge of this or that is not to be
confounded with Eeason.
Actions are < To all actions to which we are determined by a mental
in them- .
selves in- affection, which is a passion, we may also be determined
by Eeason without passion.' The idea is that bodily
actions are all in themselves indifferent, that is, neither
good nor evil. And they only become good or evil
according as they make for or against the development
Moral Of the ideal self. Thus talking, eating, drinking, and, to
depends on take Spinoza's illustration, the act of striking, are colour-
relations, less except in their relation to the ideal self. If they
serve that, they are good ; if not, they are bad. Now to
that is, on act according to Eeason is simply to do those things
which follow from the inward necessity of our own
nature considered in itself — that is, apart from the
powers of the external world which deflect it from its
true course. And such of us as consider ourselves — in
spirit, though not always in the letter — to be Spinoza's
disciples make bold to say that if any man could emulate
the serene devotion of the Master who, from the time of
his enlightenment, sought only to realise the divine
thought identifiable with the man Spinoza, he would find
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 165
Reason as thus conceived to be to him 'wisdom and
righteousness, and sanctification and redemption.'
' Desire springing from Joy or Grief such as affects vices of
only one or several, but not all parts of the body, has no desire. e(
proper bearing l on the good of the whole man.'
We must remember that in Spinoza's system the body
is the man in extension, and the mind the man in thought.
They are therefore the same thing in two different aspects.
For practical illustrations of the above proposition we
may refer to drunkenness, sensual vices, and gambling,
which gratify a part but do not serve the whole of the man.
' Desire springing from Eeason is incapable of excess ' i».
, . Desires of
— that is, it is always an impulse toward the realisation Reason are
„ . , „ incapable
Of OUr best Self. of excess.
So far as the Mind conceives anything under the ixii.
direction of Eeason, it is equally affected thereby whether unaffected
the idea be of a future thing or a past or present.
We may remember that on the natural man things
immediate have much more influence than things remote,
notwithstanding that the power of the latter over him is
in the order of Nature equally certain. We may also
remind ourselves of the fine utterance of Kepler when
under the direction of reason he published his laws of
planetary motion.
' The lot is cast. I have written my book. It will be read ; instance of
whether in the present age or by posterity matters little. KePler-
It can wait for its readers. Has not God waited six thousand
years for one to contemplate his works ? ' 2
1 Rationem utilitatis totius hominis non hdlet. But the practical
sense is as above.
2 Sc. the true laws of planetary motion. The reference, of course,
is to the old chronology, which dated creation about six thousand years
back.
166 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Ixiii. He who is led by fear and does what is good in order to
avoid trouble (malum) is not led by reason.
Penalties The suggestion is that fear of penalty cannot sustain
cannot
inspire noble conduct as reason can. For by the desire spring-
righteous- . J *
ness. ing from reason we pursue good directly, and only as
an incidental consequence escape evil. The difference
between the positive pursuit of good and the negative
avoidance of evil is not inaptly illustrated by the example
of a sick and a healthy man. 'The sick man through
fear of death eats what he dislikes ; the healthy man
takes a pleasure in his food, and so enjoys life more than
if he feared death and made it his chief aim l to avoid
it;
ixiv. The knowledge of evil is inadequate knowledge ; hence it
knowledge follows that if the human mind has none but adequate ideas,
excludes it would form no notion of evil.
evil.
In other words, if our consciousness could expand so as
to fill the infinite Universe — of course an absurd supposi
tion — there would be no shadow of evil in it.
ixv. Under the guidance of Reason we shall take the greater
good and the lesser evil wherever a choice lies between the
two.
It must be remembered that good and evil here mean
respectively what favours and what hinders the develop
ment of the ideal self.
lxri Under the direction of Reason we shall prefer a greater
future good to a present smaller good, and a present smaller
evil to a future greater evil.
This, of course, has been a familiar doctrine of preachers
1 Eamque directe vitare cuperet.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 167
in all ages. But the distinctive note of Spinoza is that
under the guidance of Eeason he recognises only real good
and real evil verifiable by experience. With this agrees
the following : —
The free man thinks of nothing less than of death ; and ixvii.
his wisdom is meditation not of death but of life. mar/not
concerned
These words need no comment.
Proposition Ixviii. may be treated parenthetically. For An impos-
it puts an hypothesis which in a succeeding Scholium is thesis. 3P
shown to be impossible. That is, ' supposing men to be
born free, they would form no conception of good or evil
so long as they remained free.' For that man is free who
is led by reason alone. But such a man can have no
other than adequate ideas, and therefore has no concep
tion of evil. (Prop. Ixiv.) The implication is that he
sees things as God sees them.
But Spinoza takes the opportunity of illustrating the
meaning of the above impossible hypothesis by the myth
of Adam's innocence and fall. Perhaps the great Jew
gives us here a reminiscence of his studies in the Hagada Spinoza as
or exposition for purposes of edification rather than exact
interpretation. At any rate, he suggests that in the story
of Adam's creation, ' no other power of God is conceived
excepting that by which he created man.' It was to
keep the latter within the range of adequate ideas that
he was debarred from ' the tree of knowledge of good and
evil.' And by an edifying modification of the ancient
text Spinoza tells us, God warned Adam ' that as soon as
he ate of it he would immediately dread death rather
than desire to live.' With an obscure allusion, possibly
168 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
to sensual degradation, we are told that when Adam
' came to believe that the brutes were like himself he
immediately began to imitate their affections ' (passions).
Thus he fell under inadequate ideas and lost his freedom.
This freedom, however, was regained by the Patriarchs,
who were c led by the Spirit of Christ, that is to say, by
the idea of God, which alone can make a man free, and
cause him to desire for other men the good he desires for
himself.' Sir F. Pollock seems to doubt whether Spinoza
was serious here. I do not know why we should
hesitate. Early habits of thought had a charm for him
as for lesser men. And after all he only uses the
myth as a sort of paradigm to explain what the con
dition of man would be on the impossible hypothesis of
Prop. Ixviii.
ixix. The virtue of a free man is seen to be equally great
whether in avoiding or in overcoming dangers.
Abraham This may be illustrated by the attitude of Abraham
slavery .and Lincoln towards slavery ; an attitude subject at the time
of the war and after to undeserved criticism. He had no
constitutional power to make the existence of slavery the
gage of battle at the outset. And his virtue or his valour
was seen in declining the danger which such an uncon
stitutional course would have involved. The Union alone
could be legally alleged as the prize to be maintained at
all costs. But when the conflict had reached the stage
at which slavery was recognised on both sides as absolutely
incompatible with a restoration of the Union, then Lin
coln's virtue, or valour, was equally shown in facing the
danger of the emancipation proclamation as justified by
the emergencies of war.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 169
A free man living among the ignorant * seeks as much as ixx.
possible to avoid their favours. offevours
This is because the servant of Eeason and the devotee worthless.
of superstition estimate so differently things good and bad
that there is between them hardly any current coin.
Only free men are entirely congenial (gratissimi) toward ixxi.
each other.
The free man never acts with malignant deceit but always ixxii.
loyally.
A man directed by Reason has more freedom in a common- ixxiii.
wealth (civitate), where he lives according to an agreed con- greater?ii
stitution of things (ex communi decreto) than in solitude, where s°cial. life
11 i i ? x , . ' than in
he obeys only himself. solitude.
This looks paradoxical, but the explanation is that the
man actuated by Eeason alone knows no fear, nor does
he suffer compulsion, but from the free action of his
essential nature seeks the good of his kind. For such
free action there is more scope in a commonwealth than
in solitude.
The concluding Scholium is as follows : —
' These and such-like principles of the true freedom2 of
man as hitherto expounded are related to Fortitude, that is,
to Force of Mind and Generosity. Nor do I think it worth
while here to exhibit separately all the properties of Forti
tude ; still less (to prove) that a brave man should hold no
one in hatred, should feel anger toward no one, should not
envy nor cherish indignation, nor feel contempt for any, and
least of all should give way to Pride. For these lessons and
everything concerning true life and Religion are readily
1 There is a doubt whether this is the word Spinoza wrote.
A version taken direct from his autograph has ignavus — vile, or
worthless — instead of ignarus.
2 The avowed subject of Part iv. is human bondage. But by
contrast the principles of liberty have necessarily been suggested.
170 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
enforced by earlier propositions of this Part,1 as for instance
that hatred is to be conquered by love, and that every one
guided by Reason desires for the rest of men the good he
desires for himself. To which must be added what in many
places we have remarked, that a brave man puts in the
forefront of all his considerations the fact that all things
follow from the necessity of the divine nature ; and that
accordingly whatever he thinks to be hurtful or evil, and
also what seems impious, terrible, unjust, and vile, occurs to
him in that form because he conceives the facts themselves
in a disorderly, fragmentary, and confused manner. On this
account he tries first of all to conceive things as they really
are, and to free himself from hindrances to true knowledge,
such as are Hatred, Anger, Envy, Derision, Pride and the
like, which we have pointed out above, and so he endeavours,
as much as lieth in him, to do good — as we have said — and
to rejoice. To what lengths, however, human virtue may
proceed in such attainments, and what is its power, I will
show in the succeeding Part.'
APPENDIX
To this Fourth Part Spinoza adds an important ap
pendix. He seems to have been aware that his so-called
' mathematical ' method of proof must cause special diffi
culties to students of his system. And he apprehended,
not without reason, that these difficulties would be speci
ally felt in regard to his method of discussing human
bondage. He therefore added a kind of precis of the whole
Part compressed into thirty-two paragraphs or chapters.
Whether these are really much easier to understand than
the propositions themselves, with such illustrations as
above given, is a question on which opinions may differ.
1 Sc., Props, xxxvi., xxxvii., xlv., xlvi., etc.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 171
But I think it well to give the appendix without note
or comment, only premising that the translation is in
tended as usual to exhibit the meaning clearly to English
readers, and therefore does not adhere verbatim to the
Latin where such a method would make the English
obscure.
My observations in this Part concerning the right principle The
of living have not been so arranged as to be (readily) seen as
one whole, but have been proved here and there according as for the
I could more easily deduce one from another. I propose Appeu
therefore here to recapitulate them, and to arrange them
under the most important heads.
' All our efforts or Desires follow from the necessity (in- Theory of
evitable tendency) of our own nature in such a manner that Desire-
they may be understood either through that nature itself alone
as their immediate cause, or else from our being a part of
Nature which part cannot be adequately conceived apart
from other individuals.
II.
* The desires which so spring from our own nature that Active and
they can be understood through that nature alone, are such ^
as belong to the Mind in so far as the latter is conceived to
consist of adequate ideas ; but other desires do not belong
to the Mind except so far as it conceives things inadequately ;
and their force and growth is not to be determined by human
power, but by the power of external things. Therefore the
former desires are rightly called active (or actions), but the
latter passions (i.e. passive). For the former indicate our
power, and the latter, on the other hand, our impotence and
fragmentary knowledge.
172
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
III.
Good and « Our activities (actimes), that is, those Desires which are
bad desire. , . . , . , _, ,
determined by man s power or Keason, are always good.
But the rest may be as often bad as good.
IV.
The chief ' Thus in life our prime advantage is as far as possible to
end of Man. ma^e perfect the intellect or Eeason ; and in this one thing
the highest happiness or blessedness of man consists. That
is to say, blessedness is nothing other than that very peace
of mind which springs from the intuitive knowledge of God.
Now to make perfect the intellect is nothing other than to
understand God, and the attributes and actions of God
which follow by necessity from His very nature. Wherefore
the chief end of the man who is led by Keason, that is, his
supreme Desire, by which he seeks to regulate all other
desires, is to get an adequate conception of himself and of all
those things which may fall within the scope of his intellect
(intelligentiam).
Good and
bad.
Evil from
outside a
man.
V.
'There is therefore no reasonable (rationalis) life without
intelligence, and things are good only in as far as they help
the man to enjoy that mental life which is measured by
intelligence. On the other hand, those things only do we
call bad which hinder a man from perfecting Keason and
enjoying a reasonable life.
VI.
' But since everything of which a man is an efficient cause
is good of necessity, therefore nothing evil can happen to a
man unless from outward causes ; that is to say, inasmuch as
he is a part of all Nature whose laws human nature must
obey, and to which it must conform itself in an almost
infinite number of ways.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 173
VII.
' Now it is impossible that man should not be a part of The natural
-tii man depen-
Nature or not follow her usual order. But if he should dent on cir-
have a position among such individual objects as accord with cumstances.
his own nature, by that very fact will his power for action
be aided and sustained. If, on the other hand, he lives
among such objects as scarcely accord at all with his own
nature, he will hardly be able without a great change in
himself to accommodate himself to them.
VIII.
c Whatever in Nature is met with that we judge to be evil, Prerogative
or able to hamper our existence and enjoyment of a life
according to Reason, this it is allowable for us to get rid of
by such method as appears safest. And whatever, on the
contrary, is met with which we judge to be good or useful
for the preservation of our (essential) being and for the
enjoyment of a life according to Reason, this it is allowable
for us to take for our benefit and to use it in any way.
And by the supreme right of Nature absolutely everything
is allowable to each man which he judges to conduce to his
welfare.1
IX.
1 Nothing can be more accordant with the Nature of an Place of
(individual) thing than other individuals of the same kind. thTiift of
And therefore (see VII. above) a man can have nothing more Reason,
suitable for the preservation of his (essential) being and his
enjoyment of a life according to Reason than (another) man
who is led by Reason. Farther, since among individual
objects we know nothing more excellent than a man led by
Reason, therefore in no way whatever can any one more
clearly manifest his resources in skill and talent than by so
1 Any one who has followed the Ethics so far can scarcely need a
reminder that no one acting according to Reason can judge anything
to be good for himself if it injures another.
174 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
moulding1 men that they come at last to live under the
direct anthority of Reason.
X.
No enemy « In proportion as men are mutually actuated toward each
thaif man other by Envy or by some other passion of Hate, in that
to the proportion are they contrary to each other,2 and consequently
higher life. f. • J J
the more to be feared inasmuch as they have more power
than any other natural things.
XI.
ennvt ' Minds, however, are conquered, not by arms, but by Love
Generosity.
Love.
XII.
Union is ' To men it is above all things profitable to form com
munities and to unite themselves by such bonds as are best
fitted to make of them all one man, and generally to do
whatever serves for the strengthening of friendships.
XIII.
Ineffective- < But for such purposes art and watchful care are needed.
neSS Of de- -^ ITT/. -ITT. IT
nunciation. -^or men are changeable — lew indeed being those who live
by the direction of Reason — and at the same time they are
predominantly envious, and more inclined to vengeance than
to pity. To bear with each, therefore, according to his
disposition, and to refrain from imitating his passions, re
quires a rare strength of mind. But, on the other hand,
those whose only skill is to criticise men, and to revile their
vices rather than to teach virtue, and rather to break their
spirit than to fortify their minds, are injurious both to
themselves and others. On which account many of them,
1 Hominibus ita educandis.
2 This is not the truism that it looks. The underlying thought is
always the development of man's highest good, the life according to
Reason. It is with respect to this that men mutually envious and
angry are 'contrary to each other.' Whenever the above becomes a
truism there will be no more war.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 175
through excessive impatience and a false zeal for Religion, How false
have chosen rather to live among beasts than among men ; religion
just as boys and youths who cannot bear calmly the rebukes has made
of their parents, betake them to the army and choose the
discomforts of war and despotic command rather than home
comforts with paternal reprimands ; suffering any kind of
oppression, if only they may spite their parents.
XIV.
' Although, therefore, men generally bend everything to Moral
their low desires, many more advantages than disadvantages society ?f
arise from their social union. Wherefore it is better to
endure with an equal mind the injuries inflicted by them,
and to apply our minds to those things which make for
concord arid the confirmation of friendship.
XV.
' The things that beget concord are such as belong to Moral
justice, fairness, and honour. For besides what is unjust society?
and unfair, men are revolted by what is accounted base, or
by the contempt of any one for the established customs of
the State. In order to win Love, our prime requirement
is Religion and Piety, with all that they imply. On this
point see, in this Part, Prop, xxxvii., Schol. 1 and 2 ; Prop,
xlvi., Schol. ; Prop. Ixxiii.
XVI.
' Concord, moreover, is often the result of fear ; but then it Neither
is without good faith. It is to be observed, too, chat fear sentiment a
arises from impotence of mind and therefore is of no service sufficient
to Reason ; nor is pity, though it assume an aspect of piety, concord.
XVII.
' Men are also conquered by bountif ulness, especially those Care of the
who have not the means of providing the necessaries of life, business of
On the other hand, to help every one who is in need, far the State,
surpasses the resources and faculty of a private person. For
176
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
the wealth of a private person is utterly insufficient to meet
the demand. Besides, the capability of any one man is too
limited to enable him to unite all the needy with him in
friendship. So that the care of the poor is the business of
the community, and concerns only the general welfare.
XVIII.
Gratitude ' In receiving favours and returning thanks, quite different
has its considerations are necessary; on which see Part IV., Prop.
moral con- n
siderations. Ixx. ; and Prop. Ixxi., Schol.
Illegitimate
love.
XIX.
'The love of a harlot, that is, the lust of sexual inter
course, which is stirred by bodily form, and absolutely all
love which recognises any cause other than the freedom of
the mind, easily passes over into hatred ; unless indeed, which
is worse, it is a sort of madness, and even then it begets
discord rather than concord.
XX.
Marriage. * As to marriage, it is clearly in accordance with Reason
if the desire of corporal union is occasioned not merely by
bodily form but by the Love of begetting and wisely educat
ing children ; and also on condition that the love of both the
man and the woman has for its cause not merely bodily form
but also and especially freedom of mind.
XXI.
Flattery. 'Flattery also produces concord; but only by the base
vice of self-enslavement or by treachery. There are none,
therefore, who are so easily taken by flattery as the proud
who wish to be greatest and are not so.
XXII.
Self-depre- 'In self-depreciation there is a false colour of Piety and
Religion. And although Self-depreciation is opposite to
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 177
Pride, yet the self-depreciating man is next neighbour to
the proud.1
XXIII.
1 Shame also helps concord, but only in such things as Shame,
cannot be concealed. Moreover, since Shame itself is a kind
of Grief, it is not adapted to the service of Reason.
XXIV.
' The rest of the affections of Grief in their bearing on Grief
men are directly opposed to justice, equity, honour, piety, £e?p us
and religion • and although Indignation seems to have a indignation
colour of equity, yet in a state of things where it is per- Borders on
mitted to every one to judge the deeds of another, and to
vindicate his own or another's right, life is practically without
law.
XXV.
* Affability, that is, the craving to propitiate men, if it is Affability,
determined by Reason, is related to Piety (cf. Pt. ix.,
Prop, xxxvii., Schol. 1). But if it should arise from passion
(ex affectu) it is Ambition, or a craving, by which men under
a false pretext of Piety very often stir up quarrels and
seditions. For he who desires to assist the rest of men
either by advice or by his substance, in order that they may
together enjoy the supreme good, will study above all things
to win their love ; but not to draw them into admiration (of
him) so that a system may be named after him ; and he will
avoid giving any occasion whatever for envy. In ordinary
talk, too, he will avoid mention of the vices of men, and will
take care to speak only sparingly of human impotence. But
he will talk at large of human virtue or power and of the
means by which it may be perfected; so that men, being
moved not by fear nor by revulsion of feeling, but by the
1 The common phrase, 'the pride of humility,' shows that the same
thing has been observed by the unphilosophic many.
M
178 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
affection of Joy alone, nay, as much as in them is, try to live
by the Rule of Reason.
XXVI.
Our atti- < Excepting men. we do not know any individual object in
tudetoward ,T , . u • j ^11 4.1.
Man and Nature m whose mind we can take pleasure or that we can
Nature. unite to ourselves in friendship or in any kind of society ; 1
and therefore regard to our own profit does not demand that
we should preserve anything which exists in Nature except
men ; but such regard teaches us to preserve it or destroy
it according as either course may be useful, or to adapt it to
our own use in any way whatever.
XXVII.
Food, 'The profit which we derive from objects external to us,
M°ind. ai oyer and above the experience and knowledge we obtain
because we observe them and change them from their original
form into others, is chiefly the preservation of the Body.
And for this reason those objects are the most profitable to
us which can feed and nourish the Body, so that all its parts
may be able properly to perform their functions. For the
more capable the Body is of being affected in many ways,
and affecting external bodies in many ways, the more capable
of thinking is the Mind. (Ft. iv., Props, xxxviii. and xxxix.)
But of this particular character there seem to be very few
things in Nature. Wherefore it is necessary for the requisite
nourishment of the Body to use many foods of diverse sorts.
That is, the human Body is made up of very many parts of
diversified nature, which need constant and varied food in
order that the whole Body may be equally adapted for all
those things which naturally result from its constitution, and
that the Mind also may by consequence be fitted for con
ceiving many things.
1 Presumably Spinoza never kept a dog. But the more liberal
estimate formed in modern times of the intelligence and sympathy of
higher animals does not directly contradict the above doctrine as to
our right to use Nature. It only modifies it by bringing some non-
human things within the outer circle of human sympathies.
THE BONDAGE OF MAN 179
XXVIII.
' In procuring all this the capacity of any one man would
be insufficient if men did not mutually assist one another.
But money has furnished a concentrated equivalent of all Money
possessions. Hence it comes to pass that the idea of money
has such a hold on the Minds of common men ; because they
can scarcely conceive any sort of Joy without the concomitant
idea of money as its cause.
XXIX.
' This, however, is a vice only in those who seek money Misers and
not because of poverty nor because of urgent needs, but thrift-
because they have learned the arts of gain, by means of
which they make a grand appearance. As for the Body,
they nourish it according to custom, but sparely, because
they believe they entirely lose just as much of their posses
sions as they spend on the preservation of the Body. But
those who know the true use of money and regulate the
measure of their wealth according to their needs alone live
contented with little.
XXX.
* Since therefore those things are good which help the parts Joy, its
of the body to perform their functions, and since Joy consists
in this, that the power of man, in as far as he is both Mind
and Body, is aided,, or increased, therefore all things which
bring Joy are good. Yet since things do not work for the
purpose of giving us Joy, nor is their power of action regu
lated by the consideration of what is profitable for us, and
lastly, since Joy very often affects predominantly one part of
the Body, it follows that the affections of Joy and by con
sequence the desires also suggested by it, run to excess,
unless Keason and watchfulness are at hand. And we must
add that we are most chiefly affected by what is sweet to us
at the present moment, nor are we able to prize the future
with equal emotion. (Pt, IV., Prop, xliv., Schol. : Prop. Ix
Schol.)
180 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
XXXI.
Errors of ' Yet Superstition appears on the contrary to make what-
tion con- eyer brings sadness to be good and whatever brings Joy to
being, unless affected by envy, is pleased by my impotence
or misfortune. For the greater the Joy with which we are
affected, the greater is the perfection to which we attain,
and by consequence the more are we partakers of the divine
nature. Nor can any Joy ever be evil when a sound con
sideration of our own profit controls it. But, on the other
hand, he who is led by Fear and who shuns good as an evil
thing is not guided by Keason.
XXXII.
The ' But human power is very limited and is infinitely over-
Reason11 °f Passe(l by the power of external causes. And therefore we
have no absolute power to fit to our needs the world around
us. Nevertheless we shall bear with an equal mind what
ever happens contrary to our notions of our own welfare if we
are conscious that we have done our duty, and that such
power as we possess could not by any possible exertion have
avoided those ills ; while at the same time we remember that
we are part of the Whole of Nature and follow in its course.
If we clearly and distinctly understand this, that part of us
which is determined by intellect — the better part of us —
will entirely acquiesce and will endeavour to hold fast that
acquiescence. For so far as we live by the intellect we can
only desire that which is inevitable,1 nor can we at all
acquiesce in anything but what is true. Thus in as far as
we rightly understand these things, so far the better part of
us is in harmony with the Whole of Nature.'
1 The ideal of the reformer or the philanthropist — if it be true to
the nature of things, i.e. to the nature of God— is inevitable, though
seldom realised in his personal lifetime.
PART V
THE POWER OF THE INTELLECT; OR, THE
FREEDOM OF MAN
To bring home to the modern English mind the practical Method
1 . . adopted.
common-sense forming the core of Spinoza's teaching in
the concluding Part of his Ethics, it seems best to abandon
even more entirely than we have done in the immediately
previous Parts, any attempt to fit together in their so-
called mathematical order the successive steps of the
argument. Instead of that, we may try to present the Practical
issues kept
practical results of the argument in such a form as may chiefly in
view
be available for the guidance of daily life.1
The first thing to be fixed in our minds is familiar Recapitula
tion of the
enough if we have followed the Master to this point ; but doctrine of
it may need reiteration. For the freedom expounded is
not that of caprice or self-will, but simply action without
compulsion or restraint from without. And by compul
sion or restraint from without is meant any impelling or
deterring influence which is not spontaneously 2 generated
within the area of the man's nature considered as a finite
1 The preface may, for our purpose, be ignored. For it is mainly
a discussion of Descartes' quite fanciful speculations on the pineal
gland, and also of that illustrious philosopher's dualistic theory of
body and soul, a theory utterly alien to Spinoza's doctrine of the
identity of the two.
2 'Spontaneously' in the sense of John iv. 14: 'The water that I
shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up^into^ ever-
181
182 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
deJ£eeofen" exPression of God. Tnus no man is free who acts through
outSdTour k°Pe °^ Eeaven or fear °f Hell, or through the impul-
proper sion or restraint exercised by any other pleasure desired
nature.
or penalty feared. Because, of course, in any such case,
the man affected would by hypothesis act quite differ
ently if the fear of punishment or the hope of reward
were withdrawn. He cannot therefore be said to act
freely. For that prerogative belongs only to the man
who carries his essential being into action without being
warped or thwarted by external influences. Thus, when
Tennyson wrote :
The Poet's ' I do but sing because I must,
And pipe but as the linnets sing,'
there was no thought of compulsion in the ordinary
sense of imperious pressure from without, but only of an
unimpeded issue into outward form of an impulse proper
to his essential nature. According to Spinoza this is the
only freedom possible to finite beings, and is the assured
and everlasting prerogative of God.
Exuberance The sports of lambs on a spring evening, or the healthy
of innocent J
life. infant's spontaneous gambols accompanied by trills of
laughter sounding like the song of the skylark, are also
illustrations of Spinoza's idea of freedom. The inward
nature, or ' essence,' in either case is a fathomless foun
tain from which joy in action bubbles forth without other
apparent motive than itself. In other words, the little
life is an ' adequate cause ' of such displays, and there is
lasting life.' The creature is not the source of the living water, but it
wells up in him through his relation to the life of God. It cannot be
traced to any finite cause outside the area of the man's own nature,
though, of course, it is related to such untraced 'cause' or 'causes.'
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 183
nothing else needed to account for them. Or if it be
suggested that, according to Spinoza, there is no cause
but God, this is perfectly consistent with all that has
been said. For it is of course God — not as infinite, but
as manifest in a finite mode of extension and thought or
consciousness — who is the adequate cause of animal or
infant spontaneity of joy. Our present object, however,
is to fix as definitely and clearly as possible Spinoza's
idea of freedom, which is simply action from within and
according to the divine nature in us, without interference
by external causes. Thus the fully developed free man
is one who ' does justice, loves mercy, and walks humbly
with his God ' as spontaneously as the lamb frisks or the
child plays.1
The hindrances to such freedom are, in the ordinary Hindrances
J to freedom.
man, mainly the passions, or, as St. Paul has it, ' the
works of the flesh . . . adultery, fornication, unclean-
ness, lasciviousness, idolatry,2 witchcraft, hatred, variance,
emulations, wrath, strifes, seditions, heresies, envyings,
murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like.' The
Apostle did not pretend to give an exhaustive list. But
1 Readers of the previous Parts of the Ethics ought not to need any
caution against the hasty and mistaken inference that action from
conscious motive, or under external influence, forms no part of
Spinoza's ethical system. As a discipline it was a conspicuous element
in his plan of salvation (see Scholium to Prop. x. in this Part). But
actual salvation, the higher life with its holy freedom, was, in his
view, what is here set forth.
2 My inclusion of idolatry, witchcraft) sedition, heresies might seem
foreign to Spinozism. But it is not so. For * idolatry ' includes the
worship of a god framed out of our own sentiment of what he ought
to be, as well as that of a god wrought out of wood or stone. ' Witch
craft' would include much of modern 'spiritism.' 'Seditions' and
'heresies' may mean any arbitrary rebellion of a part against the
whole in a finite community.
184 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
he gives us illustrations which suggest that his notion of
spiritual freedom and its hindrances was in its essence
St. Paul nearly akin to that of Spinoza. ' This I say then, walk
Spinoza. in the spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh.'
Surely the theological Aberglaube generated by tech
nical uses of the word ' spirit ' need not blind us to the
fact that St. Paul's idea of freedom is spontaneous action
issuing from the inner nature which is in touch with
God, or is rather a manifestation of God, and is un
troubled by interference from without. And for St. Paul
as well as for Spinoza hindrances to freedom were all
those disturbing influences from without which thwart or
distort the spontaneous action of the finite manifestation
of God constituting the ' adequate idea ' of each individual
man.
The slave ^or instance, the raging man is not himself as he would
of passion, j^ j^ ag ke jg f orce(j t0 be by the resistless impulse of
an external provocation. And Spinoza's doctrine is that
the raging man, for all his bluster, is not active but
passive, suffering under the suppression of his true self
by violence. It is easy to apply the same doctrine to all
forms of passion which overmaster us. The ordinary
notion is that they are states of morbid activity. But
Spinoza's theory agrees with St. Paul's intuition l that they
are rather states of morbid passivity in which we suffer
under alien forces too strong for us.
Shakespeare's King Lear affords a case in point. For
one of the most pathetic elements in the tragedy is the
raving king's shame that his true self is lost and that
1 See, in addition to the above-cited passage from Gal. v. 19, also
Romans vii. 15, vi. 16.
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 185
with it is gone all real spontaneity of utterance and
action : —
{ Life and death ! I am ashamed King Lear.
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ;
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them.'
* 0 most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show !
That, like an engine, wrenched my frame of nature
From the fixed place, drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. 0 Lear, Lear, Lear !
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, [Striking his head.
And thy dear judgment out ! '
These last lines describe exactly Spinoza's idea of ignoble
passivity as contrasted with free action. It matters not
that, to Shakespeare, philosophy came through imagina
tive insight into reality rather than through any process
of reasoning ; except indeed that by this very triumph of
imagination he proves Spinoza to have been as far from
infallibility as any other great man.1 However that
may be, the fall of Lear is conceived as the dislocation
of the true self with its spontaneity, and its subjec
tion to external influences that ought never to have the
mastery.
How then is such a bondage to be broken, and true The plan of
freedom achieved ? There are many subsidiary sugges
tions to which we may recur with advantage after we
have grasped the main solution to which Spinoza leads
up by his favourite method of successive propositions and
proofs. But for our purpose it is best to state at once
with such plainness as the subject permits, what is the
1 The ' imagination,' however, which Spinoza depreciates is scarcely
that which was Shakespeare's glory.
186 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
lies in main- Master's answer to the above question, or, as we may say,
his plan of salvation. In essence it is this. We should
habitu ally realise our prerogative as partakers of the
divine nature. And the prerogative consists in this:
ow? Snits *^at within limits we can make our lives in thought,
word, and deed a finite but, within those limits, an
adequate expression of God. For each individual man is
a finite mode of divine Extension and Thought. Now
the prerogative just mentioned is the capacity to mani
fest God within the limits of certain finite Modes while
resisting the intrusion of other finite Modes of the divine
Attributes. For such an intrusion, though it cannot mar
the harmony of the Infinite Whole, can certainly disturb
the self-contained inward concord of the individual life
or finite expression of God.
Case of For illustration of this view of moral evil we may recur
to the raging King Lear, who, being a type, embodies in
himself the experience of myriads of actual men. With
the wickedness of the two daughters we are not concerned
here, though, in the eclipse of the divine nature within
them by the obtrusion of greed, ambition, and pride, they
also illustrate Spinoza's theory of sin. But anger at their
baseness, to which Lear's folly alone had given power,
not only does the outraged father no good, but aggravates
his misery tenfold. His former slavery to ill-regulated
^ove nas ^ecome now an even more hopeless slavery to
impotent hate. His madness does not, according to
the infinite Spinoza's system> mar the infinite peace and harmony of
the Universe or God. But it does disturb within Lear's
finite self the expression of God. Or we may put it
thus: that to find the divine meaning of Lear's passion
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 187
we have to go far beyond himself, and may be driven
to imagine that an explanation might be found if the
infinite scheme of things could be grasped by our minds
in its totality.
We return then to the main thesis that the prime con- Resump-
tion of
dition of freedom is the continuous realisation of our main thesis.
prerogative as partakers of the divine nature. In the
enunciation of this doctrine as taught by the Master in
this part of his work there is a strain of poetry nobler
than any conceivable by Lord Bacon, though Shakespeare
attains it now and then. But it is found only in those
passages where, instead of ' suiting the shows of things
to the desires of the mind,' the great poet unmasks reality
from all shows and gives us to feel eternal rest in God.
1 Whosoever/ says Spinoza, ' clearly and distinctly under- Self and
stands himself and his own mental affections, loves God,
and all the more in proportion as he better understands
self and its affections/ l The doctrine is that the confused
and inadequate ideas associated with passion are ex
cluded. This being so, a man who clearly and distinctly
recognises his place in the Universe, or God, necessarily
regards God as the cause of whatever joy or satisfaction
he has in existence; or if little of such pleasure has
fallen to his lot, he can look beyond himself to ' the glory
of the sum of things/ The glow of feeling with which
such a man responds to the Universe is what I under
stand the Master to mean by ' the intellectual love of God/ < inteiiect-
Thelate Professor Huxley, in the meridian of his great gifts God.'
and in the full career of joyful work, used to say that
at the end of every day he felt a strong desire to say
1 Prop, xv., Part v.
188 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
< Thank you ' to some Power if he could only know to
whom to say it. Now that seems to me the attitude of
soul described by Spinoza in the above-quoted proposi
tion j and the fact that Huxley preferred to call himself
an Agnostic rather than a Pantheist, scarcely detracts
from the value of the illustration. The Pantheist does
know to whom to say * Thank you.' 1 But this difference
in his theory of the Universe does not in the least pre
vent his cordial recognition of the devout Agnostic's
loyalty to the unknown source of his joy.
The * God-consciousness ' is for Spinoza the main con
dition of human freedom. But, as we noted above, there
Subsidiary are many subsidiary and indeed precedent conditions to be
dentPcondi- fulfilled before that state of blessedness can be reached,
freedom. For instance, we have to remember that the passions
under which we suffer are to a certain extent like
physical forces, at any rate in this respect, that action
and reaction are equal and opposite. This is the
practical meaning of an axiom stated thus : ' If two
opposite movements are excited in the same subject, there
must of necessity arise (fieri) a change in both or in one
alone until they cease to be opposed.' Here a concrete
instance is not difficult to conceive. Mrs. Humphry
Case of Ward's Kobert Elsmere was actuated at once by devotion
Eismere. to truth and by loyalty to ecclesiastical tradition. Now,
though he was not at first aware of the fact, these affec
tions were two contrary movements in the same subject,
and one or other, or both, had to be changed before the
inward discord could be attuned. In the supposed in
stance it was ecclesiastical tradition that had to give
* This is very different from saying that he comprehends God.
THE FKEEDOM OF MAN 189
way. But in many real cases, as is well known, the other cases
. in which
reverse change takes place and ecclesiastical tradition doubt is
. arbitrarily
triumphs. I do not say that in the latter cases there is suppressed.
any conscious disloyalty to truth. But what happens
is that the mind in course of the conflict begins to divide
truth into two sorts ; the one verifiable as in everyday
life, the other transcendental, going beyond experience
altogether, as, for instance, in the assumption that God
must be a ' person who thinks and loves,' and that He
must have given a supernatural revelation to man. This
is quite sufficient to effect a change in one of the opposing
affections or mental movements. Truth, as understood
by common-sense, is ignored, and tradition is triumphant.
Very different illustrations of Spinoza's axiom may be Contrariety
in more
found in the struggle of more commonly opposed pas- ordinary
sions, such as drunkenness and family affection, love of '
ease and desire for success, philanthropy and sensual
appetite, or a hundred other pairs of affections, or ' move
ments ' in the same mind. But the ultimate bearing,
already anticipated, is the incompatibility of any base
ness with the intellectual love of God.
A second axiom at the beginning of Part v. is the
following : ' The power of a ' (mental or bodily) ' affec- Power of an
affection
tion is limited by the power of its cause, so far as the limited by
essence of the affection is explained or limited by the
essence of its cause.' This sounds very obscure, but I
venture to think that a simple illustration may show
that it sets forth a truth of common-sense. In these days The golf
of golf many a business man is tempted by fine weather
and first-rate links to spend more time on the amusement
than is quite compatible with the interests of his
190 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
business. But the power of the attraction — affection or
passion — is limited by 'the essence of the cause/ the
enjoyment of skilful action and emulation in an open-
air game. Now let a messenger come with the tidings
that a very important debtor is bankrupt. The clubs are
dropped and the first train taken for the place of business.
For the power of passion for the game is limited by the
essence of the cause of that passion, as above described, a
cause which after all touches only the fringe of the player's
interests in life. But the claims of self-preservation are
overwhelming, and an attraction which a moment ago
seemed all-absorbing is now eclipsed and forgotten.
A more general illustration may be found in the re-
is it worth curring question ' Is it worth while ? ' which obtrudes
itself in times of fevered and disproportionate exertion.
The question ' Why do I labour and bereave my soul of
good ? ' is perhaps more frequently asked now than it was
in the days of Koheleth. And it generally signifies that
the power of the affection which urged the labour tends
to pass beyond the limits fixed by the essence of its
cause. That cause may be a desire for honest independ
ence and for freedom from care. But should it lead to
increase of care and intolerable pressure of demand for
exertion, that cause has exceeded the limits of its essence,
and the passion it has excited begins to pall.
The applications of these salutary principles is facili
tated by the truth that the order or arrangement of ideas
is the same as the order and connection of things.1 Thus
the order and connection of ideas and of bodily affections
is the same. For example, in the morbid constitution of
1 Prop, vii., Part n.
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 191
the wine-bibber the idea of the public-house is associated Intercon
nection of
with the craving for drink. And though this may seem ideas and
affections
to be a truism, it opens the way to some lessons of or passions
.. , , .„ .„ , , and practi-
practical value. For if we can remove a mental excite- cai issues
ment or affection from the thought of an external cause
and can join it to other thoughts, then Love or Hatred
toward the external cause, as also the perturbation of
mind arising from that particular affection, will be
destroyed.1 Which may be illustrated thus : The crav
ing for drink, though it is conceived as bodily, has its Alcoholic
J excitement
mental counterpart in the longing to pass from a less conceived
perfect to a more perfect condition. And if this seem a drunkard
paradox, let it be remembered that an erroneous con- perfect
ception of a less perfect and more perfect condition cc
cannot cancel the fundamental fact that happiness is the
passage from a less perfect to a more perfect state. True,
the projected means of securing this are in the case in
point entirely delusive. Nevertheless, the collapsed,
trembling and thirsty drunkard clings to the delusion.
For the contrast between his shrunken, nerveless, miser
able condition and that which he remembers to have
been produced by fulness of wine is to him the differ
ence between a lower and a higher perfection. Hence
the bottle as the means of passing from the one state to
the other is an object of overwhelming attraction, or, in
Spinoza's language, of desire and love.
But now if, by some intervention of sufficiently power- The delu-
ful causes, the drunkard's longing for a more perfect may beJGC
state can be connected with a more real object, as, for
instance, the restoration to health and happiness of a obJect<
suffering wife and perishing children, or the attainment
1 Prop, ii., Pt. v.
192 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
of a little heaven of a home such as he sees his
sober and industrious neighbour to possess, then the
love for drink and the perturbation of mind caused
by the passion will be destroyed. All this seems
perhaps too obvious to be the real meaning of a great
philosopher. For it may be plausibly represented as
a presentation in an obscure form of the common-
Thisis place principle of counter-attraction. But this would
more than *
counter- certainly not be an adequate interpretation of Spinoza's
attraction. . J L *
meaning. If an angry baby wants to grasp a glittering
knife, it is well to distract the infant's attention by
dangling before its eyes a brightly coloured ball. But
surely it is a higher spiritual process by which the mind
of a mature man is disengaged from an illusive object
and drawn into truer relations with things as they are,
that is, with God. And the complications attendant on
the application of the principle in daily life make such
a moral maze that only a man of great genius could
discern the unifying truth which, when discovered,
appears so plain.
An equally practical explanation may be given of
Passion another proposition which directly follows : ' An affection
reduced by , . , . r
clear ideas, which is a passion, ceases to be a passion as soon as we
form a clear and distinct idea of it.' For example, a
The miser, miser suffers from the passion of accumulation. But
this passion is caused by an inadequate or confused idea
of money apart from any realisation of its true relations
to human life. If, however, the miser could get a clear
and distinct idea of the proper place of money in the
social system, that is, of its economic and philanthropic
use, the desire for it may cease to be a ' passion/ and
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 193
become legitimately active. The relation of such prin
ciples to the main thesis that freedom is found in a
realisation of our prerogative as partakers of the divine
nature is surely apparent. For they point the way to
our becoming consciously, and not merely as passive
units, ' parts and proportions of one wondrous Whole.5
Passing over some links in the argument which are Passions
important rather to Spinoza's ideal of intellectual com- realisation
pleteness than to the practical purpose of this handbook, sequence.
we must dwell for a moment on the suggestion of a
certain moral strength derivable from the doctrine of
inevitable sequence.
' In proportion as the mind understands all things to be
linked together in inevitable sequence,1 in that proportion
has it greater power over the affections (passions).'
The Scholium following the so-called demonstration is
worth quoting, though the latter part of it is somewhat Spinoza's
. . illustra-
surpnsmg as coming from a man who is said to have sat tions of his
., , '.11-11 doctrine.
in summer evenings on the door-steps with his land
lady's children, interesting them and teaching them many
things.
' In proportion as this recognition that things are linked
together in inevitable sequence has to do with matters of
detail which we conceive very distinctly and vividly, in that
proportion is the mind's power over the affections greater :
which experience itself attests. For it is matter of observa
tion 2 that sorrow over a possession lost is assuaged so soon
1 ' Res omnes ut necessarids intelligit. ' The translation of Hale
White and Stirling has ' understands all things as necessary.' But
the last word has so many connotations in English that it seems to be
insufficiently exact here. At any rate, the phrase substituted above
gives Spinoza's meaning.
2 Videmus.
N
194
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Strange
suggestion
about
infancy.
Its signifi
cance for
the argu
ment.
Distinction
between
Fate and
inevitable
sequence.
as the loser reflects that lay no possibility could the possession
have been preserved. So likewise we observe that no one
mourns over 1 an infant because it cannot speak, walk, or
reason, and because, farther, it lives so long a time without
full self-consciousness. But if most infants were born fully
developed while only one here and there were born as a babe,
then every one would mourn over l the babes ; because in
that case the infantile condition would be regarded not as
natural and inevitable but as a defect and fault of Nature.
And we might note many other cases of the same kind.'
Lovers of babies and children as they are, must not
suppose for a moment that this great lover of all man
kind regarded undeveloped infancy with disgust. For
he thought everything beautiful in its season ; indeed he
considered every object in the Universe as perfect within
its own range. But if the reader can get over an element
of grotesqueness in the case put, he must recognise the
truth of the lesson taught. For if Dogberry had been
right, and ' reading and writing came by nature ' to all
except a few unfortunate infants, the ignorance which we
now regard with complacency because it is inevitable,
would, if it were exceptional, be treated as one of the
mysteries of Providence. We are not to let our atten
tion be engrossed by the fantastic mode of putting the
case. The point is that men readily reconcile themselves
to the inevitable, but accuse Nature when they fail to
recognise inevitable sequence.
At this point it may be well to protest against a plaus
ible but groundless inference that the doctrine here
taught is ' sheer fatalism.' Not so ; for fatalism involves
1 Miseretur, miseret. But it is the pain involved in pity that is in
the Master's mind.
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 195
a fixed decree made by some mysterious Power beyond
ourselves ; a decree ruthlessly carried out by the ministry
of external causes directed by that Power, and over
ruling the spontaneity of man. But this is not the
teaching of the Master at all. There is no external
power overruling our destinies. There is no shadow of
fate pursuing us. "We are ourselves part of the eternal
energy that moves the world. And if, to our finite in
tellect, all existence seems to consist in an innumerable
and infinite series of interwoven sequences in which we
and what we call our wills have place, this is not in
the least inconsistent with the spontaneity which, as The former
Spinoza insists, is the only reality in ' free will.' For the lattVr
when we do what we would, the impulse arises within tanlityp0r
our own divine nature and is not forced on us from
without. True, this impulse has its antecedents, rarely
to be traced far back, in the chain of invariable sequences.
But that does not interfere with our consciousness of
spontaneity, a consciousness which is no fiction but most
true and real. On the other hand, when, as St. Paul
says, ' the thing that we would not, that we do,' we are
warped by external influences, and do not act spon
taneously at all.
The use made by Spinoza of this doctrine is, of course, Spinoza's
to urge that in a world where all apparent successions doctrine1.6
are linked by invariable sequence, passion is out of place,
at least in the c free man.' For the Master holds that
the free man, consciously a partaker of the divine nature,
is more or less — and in case of ideal perfection, entirely
— shielded from the impact of passion by the sense that
all things are of God, and could not have been otherwise.
196 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
impossible Qf course the obvious retort occurs that if indeed every -
of adoption
by those thing, whether bodily, mental, or spiritual, occurs by
who want
more than invariable sequence, all this intellectual gospel of
spontane-
ity. freedom is vain, and exhortations to its acceptance
thrown away. And to those who are not satisfied with
the freedom of conscious spontaneity, a condition in
which we do just as we want to do, though our will is a
link in an endless series of untraceable sequences, I
suppose this objection must still be final. But those who
But not in- can accept the doctrine need have no fear that it is
consistent
with moral inconsistent with the influence of exhortation, warning,
influence. ^ .. . . _
and entreaty. For all moral influences are as much a
part of the web of invariable sequence as are eclipses and
tides. In fact, Spinoza's doctrine leaves the phenomenal
action and interaction of what we call the ' moral world '
just as it is in the minds of the many. Hope and fear,
aspiration and despair, love and hate, exultation in the
right, repentance and remorse for sin remain in the world
as conceived by Spinoza precisely as they do in the
world of Christian Endeavour or of the Salvation Army.
It is for the most part only in his explanation of the
ultimate nature of such moral facts that he differs from
church teachers. But the growing incompatibility be
tween the world as it is and the world as conceived by
those teachers, seems to me to make some such explana
tion as his to be religion's most pressing need.
The propositions immediately following are the last
steps leading to the final enunciation of the main thesis
Main thesis of the whole of the Ethics. This main thesis we have
Ethics. already anticipated, thinking that the purpose of this
handbook would be better served thereby. But we may
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 197
remind ourselves that this thesis concerns the prevalence
of reason through the attainment of a distinct conscious
ness of our divine nature. The propositions I have
described as last steps toward that goal are necessary, as
already said of others, to the completeness of Spinoza's
' demonstration/ But for reasons previously given I
pass them by. Our practical purpose is sufficiently caiiy neces-
secured by citation of the following : — positions.
'So long as we are not oppressed by affections (passions) Prop. x.
hostile to our (divine) nature, so long we have the power of
ordering and arranging our bodily affections (passions) in
due proportion in accordance with the intellect.'1
That is, affections or passions are bad just in proportion True vision
ii-ii -I* i • incompat-
as they hinder the mind from seeing things as they are, Me with '
or in their due proportions to the Whole. But if such
evil affections or passions are absent, the mind is serene,
forming clear and distinct ideas. Of such ideas it may
be said, as Tennyson sang of blessed spirits :
' They haunt the silence of the breast,
Imaginations calm and fair,
The memory like a cloudless air,
The conscience as a sea at rest.3
The Scholium to this proposition, though long, is so
practical that it must be quoted entire.
' By this power of rightly ordering and co-ordinating the Scholium,
bodily affections we are able to secure comparative immunity 2 pr°P- x-
from evil passions. For more force is needed to overcome
affections ordered and co-ordinated in due proportion accord
ing to the intellect than to overcome such as are loose and
1 Secundum ordinem ad intellectum.
2 EJficere possumus, ut non facile malis affectibus afficiamur.
198 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
vague. Therefore the best thing we can do, so long as we
lack a perfect knowledge of our affections, is to conceive a
Need of a right rule of living, or definite maxims1 of life, to commit
rule of life. ,8 . , , . ' ,.
these to the memory, and regularly to apply them to the
particular affairs confronting us from time to time in life ;
that so our imagination may be thoroughly saturated with
them, and that we may have them always at hand. For
instance, among the maxims of life we have reckoned this :
that Hatred is to be overcome by Love, or Generosity, but
not to be balanced by reciprocal Hatred. But that this
Value of prescription of Reason may always be at hand when wanted,
maxims. we musjj think of and often meditate upon the ordinary
wrongs of the social state, and how and by what method
they may best be warded off by Generosity; for thus we
shall connect the spectacle of the wrong with the recollection 2
of this maxim, and it will always occur to us when wrong is
Overcoming done to us. But if also we should have at hand a rational
good. estimate of our own true profit, as also of the good which
attends on mutual friendship and common fellowship, and
likewise (should remember) that supreme peace of mind arises
from a right rule of living, and that men, like the rest of
things, act according to the invariable sequences of Nature ; 8
then the wrong, or the Hatred which usually arises from it,
will have a very slight hold on the imagination, and will be
easily overcome. Or if the anger usually excited by the
greatest wrongs should be not quite so easily overcome,
still it will be overcome, though not without fluctuation of
mind, in a far shorter time than it would have been had we
not these premeditated maxims at heart.
'To the strength of mind needed to put away fear the
same rules apply. That is, the common dangers of life are
1 Dogmata. But the original sense of the word is obviously out of
place here. What is meant is a familiar form of words.
2 Imaginationi — simply recollection here.
3 Ex natural necessitate. But there is no notion here, or anywhere
in Spinoza's teaching, of compulsion from outside Nature. His idea
is therefore best expressed by invariable sequence.
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 199
to be reckoned up and often imagined, and (we must think) No freedom
how by presence of mind and manliness they may best be fortitude.
avoided and overcome. But an important point is that in
ordering our thoughts and mental images we should always
give special heed to the good features in everything, so that
we may always be determined to action by an affection of
joy. For example, if any one finds himself to be too much
set upon Glory, let him meditate on the just use of Glory, and Think on ^
for what purpose it is to be sought, also by what means it ?£°n evil.6r
may be acquired. But let him not reflect on its abuses, and
its emptiness, and the fickleness of men, or other topics of
this kind, since about these no one thinks, except by reason
of sickness of mind. For with such thoughts excessively
ambitious men do most afflict themselves, when they despair
of achieving the honour they are seeking, and while only
spitting forth their angry disappointment they assume the
r61e of sages.1 Indeed it is clear that those who are most
greedy of Glory shout the loudest about its abuses and the
vanity of the world.
' Nor is this peculiar to the ambitious, but it is a common
characteristic of all to whom fortune is unfavourable, and
who are not fortified by Reason.2 For the poor man also who
is greedy of money never stops speaking about the abuse of
money and the vices of the rich ; while by this he achieves Beware of
nothing but to make himself miserable and to show that it is thatCrfmu-m
not so much his own poverty as the wealth of others which lates virtue,
disturbs his mind. Thus again, those who have been coldly
received by a mistress think of nothing but the fickleness
and falsehood of women and other commonly quoted vices of
the sex. But all this is forgotten at once the moment they
1 Dum ira.tn evomunt sapientes videri volimt.
2 Animo impotentes sunt. The literal rendering, 'weak in mind,'
does not give the connotation to be gathered from the whole treatise.
Keats certainly was not weak in mind, but he was scarcely fortified
by reason, when he mourned that his name was 'written in water.'
Many, if not most, of the kind of men described here by Spinoza have
been conspicuous for mental power.
200
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
are again welcomed by the mistress. Whoever then seeks
to regulate his affections and appetites solely by love of
Freedom will endeavour as far as possible to recognise
virtues and their causes, and to fill his mind with the joy
that springs from their true appreciation. But he will shun
the contemplation of men's vices, and will abstain from
invectives against men, and will take no pleasure in a sham
boast of liberty. Whoever then will assiduously study these
lessons — for indeed they are not difficult — and will practise
them, assuredly that man will within a short space of time
be able generally to direct his actions by the dictates of
Reason.'
Some con- The next three propositions are perhaps, like others
positfoi£r0" preceding, more necessary to the intellectual completeness
bearing!1 of tne Spinozan system than to the practical application
of his doctrine ; but we may see how all bear upon his
basic principle that the freedom of man depends upon a
conscious realisation of his divine nature.
' XL In proportion as a mental picture (imago) is related
to a greater number of things, in that proportion is it more
constant and claims more of the Mind's attention.'
Man and
God the
main sub-
thought,
For instance, tbe mental picture of tbe human form is
related to millions of individuals, and is therefore never
out of our minds. But the thought of God is related
to absolutely everything, and therefore claims perpetual
attention.
'XII. The images of things are more easily united to
images relating to things clearly and distinctly apprehended
than to others.'
In the ' demonstration ' tbe things ' clearly and dis
tinctly apprehended ' are identified with ' common
properties of things,' such as are gathered by reasoned
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 201
experience (Prop, xl., Pfc. n., Schol. 2) or proper deductions
from them. E.g. gravitation, proportionate chemical
combination, the laws of motion would belong to the of inexact
, thought
category of things ' clearly and distinctly apprehended, defined.
But not so telepathy, though it may exist, nor the sea-
serpent, nor so-called 'miracles.' The reason is that
these latter things are not ' common notions ' ; the names
may be in thousands of mouths, but the things re
presented are probably not identical in any half-dozen
minds. The outlook of the Master in this proposition is
toward that idea of God which is the summation of the
whole order of Nature. For an infinite number (sit
venia mrbo) of infinite series of things which separately
may be clearly and distinctly apprehended imply, in his
view, Infinite Substance consisting of an infinity of
Attributes subject to infinite modifications.
'XIII. In proportion as a conception is united with a
greater number of others the more frequently it is in
evidence.' 1 (Scepius viget.)
In the proof of this we are referred to the law of Power of
• ,' i i • ji v<i* * -r. TP i .association
association treated in the First Part. If a number of especially
impressions are made together at any one time upon the S widely16
mind, then if at another time one of these impressions thrown>
recurs, it will tend to revive some or all of the others
which formerly accompanied it but are not now renewed
from without. Thus the chamber of a sick man makes
many impressions upon him — window, table, fireplace,
pictures, and the faint odour of some disinfectant. The
1 Note that this proposition differs from xi. above in that it deals
with conceptions or mental images not merely related to but 'joined
with ' others.
202 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
whole of these impressions may never come together
again from the same external surroundings. But the
odour of that particular disinfectant will at any time
recall the entire scene to him. Now here the particular
impression of an odour has a very limited set of associa
tions; and so with the sick-chamber to which it is
Power of related. But now take the conception of home. The
ciations. familiar chambers, the daily outlook, the loved forms of
wife and children, the kindly mutual service, the sense
of repose — all this is so widely human that, wherever
the traveller goes, a hundred sights and sounds call up
the picture of what he has left behind. No meeting of
a father with his children in the evening but reminds
the wanderer of his own life at home. No loving inter
change of word and look between man and wife but
recalls the unforgotten image of her who is far away. A
glimpse of river and woodland is like the outlook from
his door. Some child Christ or girl Madonna of a picture-
gallery seems to his transfiguring affection to portray
his boy or girl at home. In fact, the idea of home has
such universal associations that it is recalled at any
moment. The point then made in the last -quoted
proposition is that the more numerous the objects with
which any conception is associated, the oftener will that
conception be in the mind. And the bearing of this
upon the conception of God is obvious ; for that should
be associated with everything. Indeed this is the mean
ing of the proposition following.
'XIV. It is possible for the mind to secure that all
affections of the body or the images of things shall be referred
to the idea of God.'
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 203
That is, all that we feel or conceive or desire shall be
consciously harmonious with the divine Whole.
In what has been said so far, the soul developed by A parting
. „ point.
Christian forms of devotion can find many points ot
agreement and feel many impulses to good. But as we
approach the final application of the principles so labori
ously expounded, our attitude will depend very much on
the degree in which we can put truth beyond and above T^ J^
every other consideration. Now this is an effort of moral unbiassed
T.L 1 1 • J J l°Ve °f
courage not quite so easy as it seems. It would indeed truth.
be much easier than it generally is, if only we were free
in Spinoza's sense, that is, if the spontaneity of our divine
nature were not subject to illegitimate influence from
without. There are cases in which1 eligible brides of
high birth are given in marriage to royal religionists of illustration
,. . from royal
an alien church. And one of the essential conditions marriages
of the contract is that the wife shall conform to her members
husband's faith. Now if the reception of the distin- entcom-
guished convert into her new communion were avowedly nmn
a legal form only, involving no pretence of personal
conviction, it might perhaps be justified by expediency.
But it is not so. The studious preparation under the
direction of spiritual guides, the serious examinations,
and the final declaration of personal belief make the
pretence of a mere legal form a cloak for hypocrisy,
unless the conversion is real, which I can well believe that Conversions
by desire
it often is. For the experience of a hundred generations are often
shows that it is difficult or impossible to analyse fairly ally sincere.
1 It may be as well to state that this was written some time before
any announcement had been made of a recent royal marriage which
has been the subject of some ill-natured and, as I venture to think,
most unjustifiable criticism.
204 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
the state of mind of the victim of such conventions, or to
follow the subtle play of feelings which, after many
windings in ' sub-consciousness,' finally emerge as sincere
belief. Such a case is only an extreme instance of the
fact that the wish to believe will, in nine instances out
of ten, or perhaps in ninety-nine. cases out of a hundred,
very quickly ensure belief. And the motives tending to
facility of conviction may be conspicuously good. For,
apart from ordinary human love, which may or not be
involved, the peace of kingdoms, profitable intercourse
between nations, the welfare of millions all have in past
times been involved in such contracts, or at any rate
were seriously thought to be so. And for a wavering
conscience biassed by such tremendous issues much
allowance must be made if the worse has sometimes too
easily been allowed to seem the better reason.
The digression is intended, if possible, to prevent any
Application offence being given by our words above, that our apprecia-
motives tion of Spinoza's highest teaching will depend very much
against";? °n the degree in which we can put truth beyond and
orpan-0n above every other consideration. For we need not be
theism. weighted with responsibility for national destinies in
order to realise solemn or pathetic motives for bias
toward particular religious dogmas. The recollection of
childhood's prayers, the ineffaceable impression of a
father's manly faith, the echo of a mother's voice as she
sang of the ' wondrous, blessed Saviour/ or of ' sweet
fields beyond the swelling flood ' — all are spiritual lines
of force to keep us within the halo of the Cross. And
farther, through generations of tradition and years of
training that seemed eternal, our souls have been so
THE FBEEDOM OF MAN 205
impregnated and saturated with belief in a personal God
made after the image of humanity's best men, and with a
fanatical repudiation of any possible morals without a
future Heaven and Hell, that, when confronted with a
denial of these things, we fling it off as white hot metal
repels a spray of cold water-drops. Now it is obvious
that such a frame of mind does not put truth beyond and
above every other consideration, because it only lives
after the tradition of the fathers and has taken no pains
to seek and find for itself.
If we must, at all cost of contradicting earth and
heaven and history, imagine a personal God acting
toward us precisely as a magnified father or nurse or Truth not
teacher would do, and if this craving is regarded as the termined
highest utterance of reason, there is no use in attempting by desire*
to follow teachers like Spinoza. For their position is
that cravings cannot determine truth,1 and that if we
follow truth, even against the clamour of unreasoned
feeling, we reach at length a much higher life than that
of common devotional fervour. But if it be asked why Nor by
should we follow your Spinoza rather than our prophets men, how-
and apostles ? we can only reply, we do not pretend ^
to ' follow ' him in your sense of the word. For he made
no claim to infallibility or to any monopoly of truth ; and
would have been the last man, as Sir Frederick Pollock
says, to wish any one to be a ' Spinozist.' But he has
much to teach that is of enormous moral and spiritual
value, the preciousness of which we cannot appreciate
1 See an incisive article in the Hibbert Journal for October 1905,
on « The Inadequacy of Certain Common Grounds of Belief,' by Dr.
J. Ellis M'Taggart. The reference is strictly limited to the par
ticular article.
206 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
unless, without any reserve whatsoever, we put truth
beyond and above everything else. On this understand
ing we proceed.
In the First Part of the Ethics we had a definition of
The love God which identifies Him with the Universe ; or all that is,
of God.
was, or can be. This is perfectly consistent, in Spinoza s
Love to view, with the possibility of that ' intellectual love toward
God' of which, with the purpose of making plainer the
main practical objects of the Fifth Part, I have partly
treated on an earlier page. I now give in its entirety the
Proposition (xv.) enunciating the Master's doctrine : —
'He who clearly and distinctly understands himself and
his own affections loves God, and all the more in proportion
to the greater clearness of his understanding thereof.'
In the demonstration we are referred to Proposi
tion liii., Part in., which declares that the mind re-
The propo- joices in realisation of itself on its active side, and all
sition refers , , . . . , ... »
toactivi- the more as it more distinctly conceives its powers or
passions, action. We must not suffer ourselves to be confused by
the substitution of 'affections' in the new proposition
for ' powers of action ' in the former. It is true that
' affections ' may include * passions,' which are not active
but passive. We have already learned, however, that
an affection which is a passion ceases to be a passion so
soon as ' we form a clear and distinct idea of it.' (Pro
position iii., Part v.) Therefore, when the Master here
speaks of a man who ' clearly and distinctly understands
himself and his own affections,' he means a man who
realises his own powers and energies. The idea is not
that of a self-denying hermit, still less that of a Corn-
modus or Elagabalus. It is that of a man of action,
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 207
who, whether the thought is articulately framed in his
consciousness or not, has the joy of sounding a clear note
in the grand harmony of the world. It is that of a great
engineer like George Stephenson, of a great statesman like Concrete
Peel, of a great poet like Milton.1 For all such men, ln
though reverence may forbid vanity, do clearly and dis
tinctly realise their own powers. And in so far as their
theology allows them to refer all to God in whom ' they
live and move and have their being/ their realisation of
the joy of life is always accompanied by the thought of
God, whom they must therefore love. But the purer
their theology, the more intellectual is their love, and
hence the freer from the passions that have polluted
faith.
It may be said that such men are few and can reflect Not wholly
little light upon the common lot. But we might as well becanse^f
say that the laws of light from the sun are inapplicable ceptio?ai
to the light from a glow-worm. For it is not their character-
exceptional brilliancy or strength which illustrates the
teaching of the Master, but just their clear and distinct
consciousness of active faculty and the place it gives
them in the divine Whole. But precisely such clear
and distinct consciousness may be enjoyed by the work
ing engineer whose hand on the valve wields the weight
and speed of a rushing train, or by a letter-carrier who
helps the intercourse of mankind, or a newspaper reporter
who makes a meeting in an obscure, smoke-grimed town
visible and audible to the whole civilised world. How
ever humble we may be, we have some active powers
1 In Spinoza's sense of the words Milton was a man of action even
in his retirement and blindness.
208 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
whose exercise may be for the good of all around us.
And if, in faithful discharge of such a trust, we clearly
and distinctly realise ourselves and our modest activities
as of God and in God, our lives may be a continual
hymn of praise, not indeed in the childish sense of
obsequious homage, but in the sense of uttering forth
that intellectual love which rejoices in the perfection of
the Whole.
The intel- This love toward God, says the Master, ought wholly
of God to possess the mind.1 For when once we realise that we
should have ,, .. . e n i n ,-,
supreme are finite expressions of God, every movement of the
in healthful activity, in honest industry, and in
Prop. xvi. legitimate pleasure, is in the mind associated with the
recognition of God as the Whole, of which our joyful
activity is part. And if it be suggested that this is a
mere theoretic love which never had and never can have
any practical power, the example of the Master himself
is a sufficient answer. For if he was, as Novalis said, a
' God-intoxicated man,' it was not in the sense of any
fanatic zeal. The victims of ancient or modern super
stition have shrieked and torn themselves, or chanted
pious blasphemies when their god has entered into them
through mephytic vapours of a cave or through the
nervous excitement of a stifled crowd in a chapel ; but
this man was possessed of God as are the starry heavens
or the calm, deep sea, or the snowy heights in Coleridge's
The doc- vision of Mont Blanc. His life was brief and, at some
by the life, crises, troubled and sorrowful. Cast out of the synagogue
and cursed with a frightful curse that made him even to
his own kin an object of horror, he yet retained the
1 Maxime occupare.
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 209
complete self-control to which vindictive thoughts are
impossible. His life was so short that his doctrine of
God and Man must have been practically completed
within his own thoughts at the period when he might
truly be described as 'destitute, afflicted, tormented.'
Yet this 'intellectual love of God' not only sustained his 'By their
courage, but conquered irritability of temperament and shall iSow
gave a sweetness of tone to his soul which made him them*
beloved by the humble folk and children among whom
he made his home. Nor was it any mere self-abnegation
that kept him pure. For where right was concerned he
could assert himself in the law-courts, and then instantly
surrender almost all that justice awarded to his righteous
claim. And though brought up in circumstances of con
siderable comfort, he could for the sake of independence
content himself with the wage of a lens-grinder, and
refused a proposed legacy to which he thought others had
more claim. Enough : if there is any truth in the saying
' By their fruits ye shall know them,' the ' intellectual
love of God ' was to this Master a veritable inspiration.
The utterances of saintly devotion and aspiration are
often tuned in the key of human passion, and the rela
tions of the soul and its Saviour are sung in words taken
from the vocabulary of earthly lovers. But Spinoza,
whose love to God endured the tests we have described,
will not permit such profanation. For no sooner has he
claimed for love to God the sole dominion of the mind
than he hastens to teach us that God is untouched by God un
passion, and cannot be affected by Joy or Grief. And
there is added a corollary that, strictly speaking, God Prop,
neither loves nor hates any one.
o
210 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
The intellectual love of God, at least in its highest
form, has assuredly not been always possible to men.
But even when they could not love as they ought, Spinoza
NO one maintains that no one could ever hate God. He did not
gm^iate know that about the very time when he wrote these
words, a poet, of whom perhaps he had scarcely heard,
Prop. Was conceiving an Epic, of which the whole plot should
turn on precisely such hatred burning in an archangel's
Milton's SOUL j£ must be conceded, however, that even to
Satan.
Milton's imagination such a conception would have been
impossible had not his theology reduced the idea of the
Eternal to that of a stupendous personality, greater indeed
than all other personalities, yet still not so incommen-
A concep- surable with them but that jealousies and mutual friction
sibieto should be possible. Whereas if the great poet could
have so far transcended his reputed 'Arianism' as to
realise that ultimate Being must needs include all being,
he would scarcely have ventured on so hazardous a plot.
Unless indeed his intention had been to show that the
myths of the Hebrews were woven out of human warp
and woof, precisely like those of the Greeks, and were
therefore fit material for similar poetic broidery.
as ex- But now let us note how Spinoza sustains his confident
pounded by
Spinoza, denial that any one could ever hate God. His proof is
indeed fine spun and technical, but as usual has common-
sense at the back of it. ' The idea of God which is in us '
-TfOp.
xviii- is adequate and perfect.1 Therefore, so far as we con
template God, we are active, not passive.2 Consequently
1 Prop, xlvii., Pt. ii.
2 'The mind's actions (i.e. spontaneous activities) spring only from
adequate ideas; but passions (i.e. passivity to undue external
influence) depend entirely on inadequate ideas.' (Prop, iii., Pt. in.)
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 211
there can be no feeling of grief having the idea of
God as its correlate. (Literally, with the concomitant
idea of God.) That is, no one can hold God in
hatred.'
The practical bearing of this technical and abstract Expiana-
argument is surely not far to seek. For it is impossible
for any one to hate the whole Universe. If a pessimist The Uni-
verse ade-
thinks he does, it is because he is fixing his mind on a quately
conceived
part only — as, for example, on the incidence of death and cannot be
suffering and unequal fortune. That is, in the Master's
way of putting it, the pessimist suffers under inadequate,
confused ideas — certainly ' God is not in all his thoughts '
— and therefore he is passive to undue influence from
without. But if such a man could enlarge his thought
so as to get a more adequate idea of that perfect Whole
in which the subjects of his confused thought are neces
sary incidents, his feeling would be changed. Nay,
supposing him to see things as they are eternally, his
inadequate ideas would be transfigured into intellectual
love. Or if it be said that a Universe which involves in
its necessary sequences much mental and physical suffer
ing must be bad, or at best imperfect, the answer is that
such an argument assumes man to be the final cause of a
Universe which has no final cause at all. And such an
assumption is surely not one of reason but of passion.
Whereas, if we would only follow out, as far as faculty
allows us, the maze of sequences by which the things of
which we complain do as a matter of fact — without being
designed or intended for it — maintain natural order and,
if we may so speak, keep the Universe together as an
eternal Whole, we should to some extent understand the
212 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
causes of sin and sorrow; and Eeason would take the
place of Passion.
A hard it seems, however, a hard saying that he who loves God
saying.
Prop. xix. cannot strive to have God's love to him in return. But
according to the Master such an endeavour would be
contrary to the preceding proposition that God cannot be
touched by passion, and therefore cannot love or hate.
Many Churches have indeed authoritatively pronounced
that God is ' without body, parts, or passions.' But they
have not dared to be consistent in the application of their
creed. Spinoza therefore makes no innovation in doctrine
on this point. His only distinction is that lie consist
ently adheres to what he says. For he maintains that
for a man to desire that God should personally love him
is only a proof that the man does not love God ; because
it is a wish that the Eternal should cease to be God.
Practical Let us try to put the truth more plainly, if with less
meaning.
severe accuracy than the Master. When a man desires
that God should love him, he thinks of God as outside of
him, a separate personality whose favour he would win.
But such a thought is utterly and fundamentally opposed
to Spinoza's central doctrine that God is not some one
separate from us, but our essence and completion. As
'parts and proportions' we may very well love and
worship the ' wondrous Whole ' ; for to our finite Mode of
existence the joy we have in the Universe is accom
panied by the idea of an external cause, the majesty of
heaven and earth. But the idea of the Whole severally
considering and loving the ' parts and proportions ' is
much too anthropomorphic ; for it suggests a conscious
ness located in a brain and contemplating its body, a
THE FBEEDOM OF MAN 213
conception absolutely inconsistent with Spinoza's doctrine
of God.
And yet though this particular suggestion must be In what
condemned as misleading, there is surely a sense in which may still
. think of an
we may triumph in an Eternal Love toward us. This is eternal love
indicated in a brief passage toward the end of the book
(Prop, xxxvi., Coroll.) : ' God, inasmuch as He loves Him
self, loves men ' ; because men are parts and proportions
of God ; c and consequently the Love of God toward men,
and the intellectual Love of the Mind toward God, are
one and the same.' For the Infinite, at least to our com
prehension, is compact of innumerable parts which all
draw toward each other. Gravitation, cohesion, chemical
affinity in the physical world; sympathy, brotherhood,
the enthusiasm of Humanity in the spiritual world, are
symbolic of forces beyond our imagination which keep all
things eternally One. And by their means we sometimes
attain heights of contemplation from which the inspira
tion of Love that saved Coleridge's Ancient Mariner
represents a grander mood than mere love of bird or beast
or man. It is a sense of all things working together in
a perfection beyond our thoughts. And of the blessed
influences here implied we are as much the objects as
star or flower, landscape beauty or human genius. The
complacency of the Universe in its self-awareness, the
love of God toward Himself, as Spinoza has it, includes
us in its embrace, and that is enough.
These lessons on the soul's supreme good are concluded
by a declaration of the spotless purity and broad human
sympathies that always attend it. For ' this love toward The true
catholicity
God cannot be soiled by any passion of envy or jealousy ;
214 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Prop, xx. kut the more men we conceive to be united to God by
the same bond, the more is this love strengthened.'
1 Lord, are there few that be saved ? ' asked one of the
followers of Jesus, a question suggestive of a desire to
magnify the preciousness of salvation by the extent of its
^trasted denial to the many. Such was not the spirit of Jesus,
spirit of though it is said that He made the question a text for an
Tertullian.
exhortation to each man to make his calling and election
sure. But Tertullian represented in himself too truly
the tendency of the Church when he described the spec
tacle of Hell as heightening the ecstasies of Heaven.
The better We must not, however, forget or minimise the generous
spirit oi
our own sympathies of later churchmen, especially in our own
day, who have striven to interpret the opinions of aliens
and heretics as being fundamentally identical with the
orthodox faith. But assuming the creeds to be true, and
the Bible to be or contain 'God's Word written,' such
efforts, generous though they may be, are a severe strain
on veracity and common-sense. For the emphasis laid
by the creeds on a right belief, an emphasis often taking
an imprecatory form, makes the appreciation of any good
ness apart from right belief consciously inconsistent and
halting. It is only Spinoza's ' intellectual love of God,'
which, like a clear sunny sky, can receive and transform
and adorn the clouds of sacred myth and even the smoke
of superstition, so that we may come to love them as
they are transfigured there. The laboured faith of Augus
tine, the bright common-sense and kindly feeling of
Chrysostom, Wesley's zeal for the salvation of souls, are,
no less than the altruism of Agnostics and the increasing
mysticism of Science, germs of a higher religion which
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 215
only find their final fruition in the intellectual love of
God as All in All.
In the Scholium following the above proposition, but
which for our purpose it is not necessary to quote here,
the Master tells us that he has now completed his
doctrine of salvation from the Passions, and that he will
proceed to treat of the immortality of the soul. This is Concerning
immortal-
not indeed his phrase ; for the thesis, as announced by ity.
himself, is this : that the human mind cannot be utterly Prop.
xxiii.
destroyed with the body, but something of it remains
which is eternal. Yet after all, the subject which he
does discuss is that commonly described as the immortal
ity of the soul.
Here occur three propositions dealing with that per- Relations
plexing antithesis between man as mortal 1 and man and soul,
under the aspect of eternity, which has puzzled the most
sympathetic students of the Master. I will first quote
the propositions and then give my own view of the
meaning.
' Prop. XXI. The mind cannot imagine anything nor can it
remember past events except while the Body continues to
exist.'
Now the whole spirit and purpose of Spinoza's teaching Not materi-
forbids us to tolerate for a moment anything like a
1 materialistic ' interpretation of these words. For as the
' demonstration ' shows, the proposition depends on the
theory that the mind and the body are each respectively
correlated finite modes of two Attributes — Thought and
Extension — each of which expresses the same divine
1 More properly — man aa a finite group of apparent successions.
216 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Substance. They are therefore the same thing under
different aspects.
asba divine ' Prop' XXI1- Nevertheless there is necessarily given in
idea. God an idea which expresses the essential heing of this and
the other : human Body under the aspect of eternity.'
For c God is not only the cause of the existence of this
and the other body ' — i.e. an appearance in temporal suc
cession — 'but also of its essential being, which must, of
course, be conceived through God's own essential being/
and that because it is involved therein by a kind of
eternal necessity.2 But this proposition will be better
discussed in connection with the following.
'Prop. XXIII. The human Mind cannot be entirely
destroyed with the Body, but of it something remains which
is eternal.'
To get at the common-sense underlying these transcen
dental utterances we must recall the Master's doctrine
The tmth that between Eternity and Time there exists no relation
Eternity, at all. They are absolutely incommensurable. Eternity
is not ' everlasting duration,' nor is Time a fragment of
Eternity. As to duration, it is impossible to explain it
except by the illusions 3 necessarily involved in finite con
sciousness.3 But all philosophers and even contemplative
1 I.e. as I understand it, each several human body has its own
several divine idea — or rather is that idea.
2 The latter words are a paraphrase, and not a rendering of idque
ceterna quadam necessitate. But I think I give the meaning. For
we are referred to Prop, xvi., Pt. I., which teaches that by necessity of
the divine nature an infinite number of things in infinite variety— that
is, all things within the scope of infinite thought — must arise.
3 It is a very hasty and utterly baseless criticism on such a view of
finite consciousness, to say that it 'makes all life a lie.' Illusions may
be relatively true. Thus a ' straight staff bent in a pool ' is really bent
THE FBEEDOM OF MAN 217
poets have generally agreed that to the thought-attribute
— or self-awareness — of God there can be no temporal
succession. To say that Infinite Being lives in an 'eternal Fallacy of
an 'eternal
Now ' may be equally futile. For the notion is generated now.'
by our experience of a constant transition from past to
future, and proverbially represents nonentity. For
'Now' perishes when we think of it. Nevertheless,
though Eternity may be to us only a dim but great sur
mise of truth, necessities of thought compel us to believe
that in the self-awareness of the Eternal all things that
we call past and present exist at once. And therefore all
Bodies and all Minds of endless generations are unbe-
gotten and imperishable ideas in Infinite Thought. Now
this consentaneous being of all ideas at once is real, while Yet eternity
is real
the succession of generations is an illusion of finite con
sciousness. And it is this reality, unattainable to mortal wnile tirne
is made up
thought except in some momentary ecstatic glimpse, of illusions.
which the Master has in view when he speaks of Body
and Mind ' in the aspect of eternity/ It is likely enough
that this may bring small comfort to those who insist that
the everlasting duration of a finite ' self ' is an essential
condition of bliss. But for many, and for a rapidly in
creasing number, it will be sufficient to know that while
their illusive duration is as the twinkling of an eye, they
are eternal in the thought of God.
so far as sight is concerned, and the artist so renders it. Only when
the apparently bent staff has to be seized or handled below the water
must a correction be made. But the relative truth of the illusions of
finite consciousness has an indefinitely wider range, and their relative
truth can, within that range, always be verified. It is only when
dealing with matters transcending sensuous experience, but not wholly
beyond the interests of Reason, that the fact of those illusions be
comes clear.
218
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
The doctrine of the late F. D. Maurice and of other
' Flower
in the
crannied
wall.1
F. D.
Maurice
on eternal more or less orthodox Christians on the subject of eternal
lite.
life is clearly allied to, if not influenced by, this teaching
of Spinoza. For it insists on an incommensurable differ
ence between eternity and time. Not only so ; but devout
holders of this doctrine have been entirely indifferent to
the attractions of a narrower heaven. For the supreme
blessedness according to them is to ' lay hold on eternal
life/ and to live it now. The duration of the limited self
is then a matter of quite secondary import.1
To this view of eternal life everything is a mani
festation of God, and therefore ' the more we understand
individual objects the more do we understand God.'
(Prop, xxiii.) This follows from the truth enunciated
in Part I., that ' individual things are nothing but affec
tions or Modes of the divine Attributes, by which God's
Pt°i'XCor Attributes are expressed in a particular and limited
manner.' And Tennyson might have had the above pro
position in mind when he wrote his often-quoted lines to
the flower in the crannied wall :
* But if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is ! '
Yet how many have quoted with delight this mystical
and musical lyric without ever suspecting its essential
Pantheism !
The fuuc- But in order that this religious contemplation of indi-
tionof r
intuition in vidual objects may attain the vision of God, it is neces-
our Wdtan-
1 To labour this point further here would be out of place ; but I
may be permitted to refer to The Religion of the Universe, Macmillan
and Co., 1904.
THE FKEEDOM OF MAN 219
sary that we should grasp things by the third kind of
knowledge, that is, by intuition. ' The highest attainment Prop. xxv.
of the mind arid its supreme virtue is to understand
things by the third kind of knowledge.' Now, of course,
it would be absurd to attribute to a man of such scienti
fic attainments as made him the valued correspondent of
the foremost scientists of his time the crude notion that
intuition can dispense with the labour of research. But
what he meant was that the recognition of ourselves and
all things as 'parts and proportions of one wondrous
Whole ' is more akin to the insight by which we grasp a
universal truth than to the logical process of induction.
For, he adds, ' the apter the mind is to understand things Prop. xxvi.
by this third kind of knowledge the more does it desire
to understand ' them so. That is, it is a habit of mind
which consistently sees things in their divine relations.
And then he tells us that ' from this third kind of know- Perfect
ledge springs supreme contentment of the mind.' The Prop,
religious faith here involved may be better discussed
farther on under the final propositions of the book.
Meantime, whether the 'demonstration' satisfies us or
not, it is well to take note of it.
' The supreme virtue of the Mind is to know God or to
understand things by the third kind of knowledge (intuition).
And this virtue is all the greater in proportion as the Mind
has a fuller knowledge of things by this kind of knowledge.
Therefore he who knows things by this kind of knowledge
passes into the highest perfection of man. Consequently (by
the previous definition of joy) he is affected by supreme Joy
which is accompanied by the idea of himself and his own
virtue. Accordingly from this kind of knowledge springs
the most perfect peace that can be given.'
220
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Points to
be noted
in the
above.
The tem
poral and
eternal
aspects of
things.
Here note that the knowledge of God is treated as
simply another phrase for the intuition of things as they
are — in eternity, of course, and not in time. Note again
that ' the idea of himself and his own virtue ' is not to be
taken as suggestive of vanity or self-complacency. For
throughout the Ethics man is treated as having no real
self but God — i.e. as a finite modification of divine
Attributes expressing the divine substance. The ' idea
of himself and his own virtue' is therefore equivalent
to the realisation of his place in the divine nature.
Again, the word 'virtue' is not to be confined to its
English connotations ; for it includes fulness of spiritual
life, and moral force. These observations may help us
when we consider the practical application of the truth.
The next four propositions (xxviii.-xxxi.) may, for our
purpose, be passed over with a mere mention of their
general bearing. For while necessary in the Master's
view to the Euclidean process of his argument, they do
not obviously help the religious application we have in
view. They turn upon the doctrine that all things may
be regarded either under a temporal aspect, which has
only relative truth, or under the aspect of eternity, that
is, their unity in God. We then come to Proposition
xxxii. : —
' We delight in whatever we understand by the third kind
of knowledge (intuition), and our delight is accompanied with
the idea of God as its cause.'
No one can deny that there is force in the brief
'demonstration.' From this kind of knowledge arises
the highest possible contentment, that is (by a previous
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 221
definition), Joy, and this, moreover, accompanied by the
idea of one's self, and consequently accompanied by ' the antl its
idea of God as its cause.' That is, every one who sees toward
eternity
clearly a universal truth, even if it be only mathematical, and God.
but much more if it be moral, finds a keen intellectual
pleasure in it. This pleasure is inevitably accompanied
by joy in the consciousness of possessing such a power,
and the mind accustomed to see all things under the
aspect of eternity necessarily refers both power and joy
to its true self in God. The corollary here also has an
obvious bearing on religion.
* From the third kind of knowledge necessarily springs the
intellectual love of God. For from this kind of knowledge
springs Joy accompanied by the idea of God as its cause,
that is to say, the love of God, not as though we regarded
Him as present, but in so far as we realise His eternity ; and
this is why I call the love of God "intellectual." '
We are then told that ' this intellectual love of God is
eternal ' (Proposition xxxiii.) — that is, unrelated to time
or succession. Then the Master seems to bethink him
that this ' intellectual love ' might to some appear incon
sistent with his definition of Love as ' Joy accompanied
by the idea of external cause.' For God is not ' an tions.
external cause,' nor has He 'presence' such as a finite
external cause can have. True, the epithet ' intellectual '
should guard against any confusion with temporal passion.
But then how can an eternal love, having neither begin
ning nor end, be called by the same name as a passion
that seizes us like a magic spell and to which the sweet
uncertainties of hope and fear seem essential ? For
answer a Scholium is added : —
222 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
'Although this Love toward God has had no beginning,
yet it possesses all the perfections (charms) 1 of Love just as
though it had an origin, as we supposed just now.2 Nor is
there any difference except that the Mind has possessed as
eternal those perfections which we have supposed to accrue
to it, and has possessed them with the accompanying idea of
God as the eternal cause. Now if Joy consists in the passage
to a greater perfection, surely Blessedness must consist in
this, that the Mind is endowed with perfection itself.'
Hoping that the difficulties of this utterance may he
at any rate alleviated by concluding remarks to follow,
I pass on. Anxious to keep his doctrine of eternal life
apart from the carnal notion of immortality, the Master,
in another proposition (xxxiv.), shows that only in con
nection with the body in its temporal aspect (durante)
can the Mind be subject to passions; and he adds a
Scholium : —
* If we regard the ordinary opinion of men we shall see
that they are conscious of the eternity of their Mind, but
that they confuse this with duration and identify it with the
imagination or memory supposed to remain after death.'
Our Love Let us take together the two following propositions
His loveto (xxxv. and xxxvi.), for the latter is the complement of the
e ' former, and united they throw perhaps as much light as
our half-opened spiritual eyes can receive on eternal life
and eternal love.
{ God loves Himself with an infinite intellectual love.'
' The intellectual love of the Mind toward God is the very
1 Perfectiones ; but what are the perfections of Love unless its
charms which bind us in delight ?
2 In the corollary quoted above.
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 223
love with which God loves Himself, not in so far as He is
infinite, but in so far as He can be manifested through the
essential being of the human mind viewed under the aspect
of eternity.1 That is to say, the intellectual love of the
Mind toward God is part of the infinite love with which God
loves Himself.'
Perhaps the best way of dealing with these grand but
difficult utterances will be to offer a paraphrase which A para-
must go for what it is worth, though I think it presents offered.
in contemporary forms of thought the real meaning of
the Master. At the very beginning of this work we
remarked that our difficulty in understanding Spinoza
often arises from an erroneous assumption that he is
using language familiar to theologians in approximately
their sense of the terms. And this is the case here ; for Earthly
,.., 1,1 ,-N i r* t i associations
divine love — whether of man to God or God to man — lingering
is — with reverence be it spoken — commonly supposed divine
to have something in it akin to earthly passion. To love>
what an extent this was carried even among the most
spiritual of the Hebrews is well known to students of the
Prophets. And though Christianity exercised a highly
refining influence, yet something of the old earthly asso
ciations remained. For St. Paul was not averse to pic
turing the union of the saints and their Saviour as a
betrothal. And in Eevelation the marriage supper of the
Lamb is thought a fitting emblem of the blessed consum
mation of Christ's work.
But against any such misinterpretation Spinoza guards Excluded
by the saving epithet 'intellectual/ which is applied first epithet 'in
to man's love toward God, and by implication to the love tellectua1''
1 Be it remembered that this essential being is in God.
224 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
of God for Himself, including man.1 If it be asked how
can Love be intellectual ? the reply is that the phrase is
an adaptation of language to a transcendental idea, or let
us say a modus loqiiendi. For the word Love, with its
associations of admiration and satisfaction, and warmth of
sentiment and self-devotion, comes nearest to what Spinoza
wants to express. But its other connotations of passion
— in the sense of passivity — and exclusive or peculiar
possession of the beloved object, and longing for reci
procal exclusive love, must be shut out. Therefore it is
that he uses the epithet ' intellectual.'
Blessedness The idea thus becomes that of a joyful and even
with the triumphant contemplation of the Universe as a living
Whole, one, undivided, indivisible and eternal; perfect
as a Whole, and therefore perfect in every part. It is
even perfect in ourselves, if we could see things aright.
Because though it has not its being for us, that is, to
gratify our whims, or even to fulfil our inadequate ideals,
yet one way or another, even in our faults and pains, we
do our infinitesimal part toward making the infinite Per
fection what it is. But the advantage of the free man
over the unfree, or slaves of passion, is that he does this
willingly, as an ' adequate cause,' not trespassing beyond
the divine thought of himself into the divine thought
of other things which are incomplete except upon an
infinite survey.
This Love ' There is nothing given (existent) in Nature that is
naWef" contrary to this intellectual Love or which could cancel
1 * Hence it follows that God in so far as He loves Himself loves
men, and consequently that the Love of God toward men and the
intellectual love of the Mind toward God is one and the same thing. '
(Prop, xxxvi., Coroll.)
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 225
it.' (Prop, xxxvii.) For proof the Master is content
to say that ' this intellectual Love follows inevitably
from the nature of the Mind in so far as that nature is
considered as eternal truth in and through the nature of
God.' If, therefore, anything were conceivably able to
cancel it, the result would be to make that false which,
by hypothesis, is eternally true. Which is absurd. If
we are unaffected, as probably we are, by such a ' proof,'
may it not be because we are even yet insufficiently
possessed of the Master's Gospel that we are one with
God ? With a curious sensitiveness to any apparent
break in the long chain of his argument, Spinoza here
recalls the axiom in Part iv., which assumes that ' there
is no individual thing in Nature which is not surpassed
in potency by some other individual thing' capable of
destroying it. But that axiom he now tells us does not
affect the impregnable persistence of the intellectual
Love of God ; for this is neither individual nor temporal,
and that axiom obviously referred to individual things in
their relation to time and place.
The Master now recalls his promise, given in Part iv.,
Prop, xxxix., Schol., to say more on the problem of Problem of
death. Those who insist on personal immortality accom
panied by a persistent sense of identity cannot derive
from his words any support for their hope. ' In propor
tion as the Mind understands a greater number of things
by the second and third kind of knowledge ' (viz. reasoned
experience, i.e. induction, and intuition), ' in that propor
tion does it suffer less from the passions, which are evil,
and the less does it fear death.'
I shall try to paraphrase the proof and a following
p
226 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Scholium. The second and third kinds of knowledge,
especially the third, or intuition, confront us with eternity
as incommensurable with time. But the more we realise
the eternal life of the Universe or God, a life in which
we share, the more constant is our better nature against
Death the assaults of passion. Not only so, but the more we
only our realise God's eternal life the less important do our inci-
to the dental and temporal interests in the world of succession
succession, appear to be. Or, in other words, what remains of us is
of far more import than what seems to perish in death.
Therefore it is well to cultivate those kinds of knowledge
which confront us with eternity. On this we can only
say, ' he that is able to receive it, let him receive it.' The
same thing has had to be said of other gospels in times
long past. But this involved no admission either of their
falsehood or of their inadequacy to the needs of a more
fully evolved mankind.
Again, taking up the apparently dropped threads of
Religious earlier argument, the Master now shows that a variously
mobile and mobile and adaptable body is not only useful to temporal
adaptable ... , , ,
body. needs, as shown in Part iv., Prop, xxxvm., but that it
makes for a better appreciation of eternal life and leaves
less to perish at death. The argument is that to which
we are now so much accustomed. As said before, we
are not to leave out of account the nervous system and
brain when interpreting the meaning of a variously
mobile and adaptable body. Eemembering this, we may
well agree that such a body, to which on Spinoza's theory
the Mind corresponds,1 will be a good instrument for the
1 That is, as a correlated finite Mode of another divine Attribute,
that of Thought.
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 227
work of the Mind in controlling evil passions according
to the rule of the intellect, and of referring all bodily
affections to the idea of God. Thus the love of God
takes possession of the Mind, and whatever that Love
possesses belongs to eternity.
In asking whether any, and if so what amount of,
common-sense is at the root of such speculations, we had
better not give too rigid an interpretation to the Master's
doctrine of the higher mind and its outlook on eternity.
For thousands have preferred noble aims to mean ones How far
and a larger spiritual to a lesser and lower good, who actual life.
would have been shocked had they been suspected of
sharing Spinoza's views of religion. And it will be
found that among such men a considerable majority
possessed a physical constitution of great mobility and
adaptability. The statesman whose disappearance in the
last year of the last century left a blank not yet filled,
was admired by professional judges of the human frame
even more for his physical than for his mental gifts.1
This is not the place to pursue such a question • I only
suggest that there is more in the Master's theorem than
airy speculation. The following Scholium may help to
confirm the suggestion ; and the idea of education with
which it concludes is well worth attention in these times.
' Since human Bodies are susceptible of very many adap
tations, we cannot doubt the possibility of their being
1 Apparent exceptions are not always really such. There is a
pathos in the recollection that Benedict de Spinoza himself suffered
as an invalid during a considerable part of his short life and died
prematurely of consumption. But his perfect mastery of a delicate
handicraft showed that, notwithstanding disease, he possessed a
variously mobile and adaptable body.
228 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Body and correlated with Minds which have a large knowledge of
tiuTfree themselves and of God, and whose greatest or characteristic 1
man. part is eternal, so that they scarcely fear death at all. But
to make this plainer, be it here noted that we live in a
course of incessant change, and according as we are changed
for the better or the worse we are said to be happy or
unhappy. For he who from an infant or a boy is changed
into a corpse is called unhappy. On the contrary, if we are
enabled to live through the whole period of life with a sound
Mind in a sound Body, that is counted as happiness. And
truly he who like an infant or a child has a Body adapted to
very few uses and mainly dependent on external causes, has
a Mind which, considered in itself alone,2 has scarcely any
consciousness of itself or of God or of surrounding things.
On the other hand, he who possesses a Body adapted to very
many (actions) has (also) a Mind which, considered in itself
alone2 has a large consciousness of itself and God and of
surrounding things. In this life, therefore, we endeavour as
soon as possible that the Body of infancy, so far as its nature
permits, and so far as is consistent with health (ei conducU),
shall be changed into another Body such as may be adapted
to many uses, and may be correlated to a Mind as fully
conscious as possible of itself and of God and of surrounding
things; the ultimate aim being that everything concerned
(merely) with its memory of self or fancy shall in comparison
with its intellect be of little consideration.'
1 Prcvcipua ; but the notion is not so much what is obviously chief
or conspicuous as what makes the contemplative mind that which it
is. Skilful movements, strenuous action, successes in management
are temporal — of the season, the hour, or the moment. But that
which is characteristic of the great mind is the outlook beyond narrow
surroundings, or, as Spinoza says, on eternity. As to their attitude
toward death, the reference is not to any lingering dread of 'the
King of Terrors,' but rather to the apprehension of annihilation. It
is this that almost vanishes when they realise how much of them is
eternal as being one with God.
2 That is, apart from the impact of external impulse, or slavery to
habit and routine.
THE FKEEDOM OF MAN 229
In interpreting these last words it must be remembered
that for Spinoza 'intellect' was not a mental logic-
chopping machine, but the higher nature which sees
things as they are. Imaginatio, which I have here
rendered 'fancy/ was to him a process of fictitious
image-making, a travesty of things as they are. And
the memory of which he speaks as nothing worth is self-
centred always, hovering about one's own achievements
and feelings. If this be borne in mind we shall be no
longer shocked by his exaltation of that ' intellect ' in
which the love of God is enshrined.
Still dwelling upon the Mind's eternity apart from
personal immortality, the Master supports his idea with
the following proposition (xl.).
1 In proportion as each thing has more of perfection, in Perfection
that proportion it is the more active and the less passive ; Activity
and contrariwise, the more it is active the more perfect it is.'
We have learned as early as the beginning of Part n. Perfection
that perfection means reality, that is, identity with God, reality.
not necessarily as infinite but as forming by a modifica
tion of some Attribute the essence of the 'creature.'
Again, activity does not mean fussiness or even busy-ness,
but spontaneity free of external compulsion. Suffering,
too, may be more than passive. The martyrs were never
more truly active in Spinoza's sense than when giving
their lives for the faith. What the above proposition
means, therefore, is that the more the Mind realises its
place in God, the less is it passive to external influences
and the more spontaneous are its functions. And
contrariwise, the more spontaneous its functions are, the
more does it realise its place in God.
230 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Case of ]?or illustration let us again have recourse to Socrates,
OOCr&tCS*
though many Christian worthies would serve our purpose,
did not their use endanger misunderstanding. Socrates
was not a Pantheist, and yet his spontaneity and his
sense of divine inspiration or suggestion throw light on
the Master's words here. He fulfilled the above idea
of activity as contrasted with passivity, because his
spontaneity, or, if we prefer the word, his originality, was
unenslaved by any external influence. He was and
would be himself ; and this in virtue of the divinity he
believed to speak to his soul. That is to say, his activity
involved reality, and this Spinoza identifies with per
fection.
Farther, in a corollary we are told that the perfect, or
real or eternal, part of the soul is the intellect, by which
alone we act spontaneously. But the part that perishes
must be the fancy, the weaver of fictions through which
alone we are said to be passive. Whatever there is of
intellect, it has more perfection (or reality) than the
fancy.
The The consummation of the Master's moral teaching is
supreme i •• • n i ... ,-,
ideal reached in two final propositions concerning the measure
less worth of goodness in itself altogether apart from
arbitrarily attached rewards or punishments either in
this temporal life or in any other supposed to succeed it.
not first The doctrine declared is, of course, not original, nor in
pro-
pounded any way specially characteristic of Spinoza. For it is to
' be found here and there throughout the Bible and most
notably in the words of Jesus. Thus the hardest duty
imposed by him on his followers, 'Love your enemies,
bless them that curse you/ is enforced only by the purely
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 231
ideal motive, ' that ye may be the children of your The words
of Jesus
Father who is in heaven ' : which reminds us of Spinoza's compared,
teaching about the inherent blessedness of the eternal
life lived here and now. Again, when the sublime exhor
tation is added, 'Be ye therefore perfect even as your
Father in heaven is perfect/ there is no suggestion of any
reward save the glory of realisation. It is true indeed
that Jesus, speaking not like the seventeenth-century Jew
to the elect and cultured few, but to the suffering and
ignorant many, often made use of the traditional hopes
and fears into which he was born, and which certainly
had Wir place among his sincere beliefs. But it is
abundantly clear that to himself goodness was heaven
and vice was hell here and now. The same lofty ideal
glimmers here and there in later parts of the New
Testament, especially in the writings attributed to St.
Peter and St. John.1 It is impossible perhaps to suppress
a regret that the active and successful apostle, of whom The con-
we know the most, failed sometimes to imitate the st. Paul,
spiritual elevation of his Master in this respect, and
even suffered himself, in a moment of argumentative
heat, to suggest that if there were no personal resurrection
the old despairing cry would be right which said, ' Let us
eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' 2
Yet though there is nothing in the slightest degree The value
of goodness
novel or peculiar to himself in Spinoza's final assertion for its own
of the measureless worth of goodness apart from reward tiaiiy in- "
for its achievement, or punishment for its neglect, yet Spinoza's
it is of great interest to see how appropriate the doctrine Ethlcs-
1 Of. 1 Pet. i. 15, 22, 23; ii. 15-20; iii. 17; 2 Pet. i. 5-9;
John xvii. 3, 22, 23 ; etc. etc. 2 Isaiah xxii. 13, etc.
232 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
is as the topstone of his laboriously constructed temple
of Ethics.
' Even if we did not know that our Mind is eternal, yet
we should regard as of supreme importance Piety and Ee-
ligion, and everything whatever which in the Fourth Part
we showed to be correlated with strength of Mind and
Generosity.7
implied in The proof consists simply in recalling the high inter-
trineof pretation put in the earlier Parts on self-preservation.
vati?n,ese It is the higher self, as recognised by Reason, that is
to be preserved, not the lower self swayed by passion.
And the claims of Generosity and strength of Mind as
factors in the higher self were maintained altogether
apart from questions of time or immortality. They
therefore remain independent of either.
The Scholium appended to the above is not very
attractive, but it is of interest : —
Contrasted < The ordinary creed of the multitude seems to be different.
with the
supposed For most people appear to believe that they are free only so
thTman ^ar as ^7 are a^owe(^ to yield to lust, and that to whatever
extent they are bound to live by prescription of divine law
to this extent they give up their independence.1 Piety,
therefore, and religion, and everything whatever correlated
with strength of Mind, they regard as burdens which they
hope to shake off at death and to receive the reward of their
slavery, that is, of their Piety and Religion. Nor is this
hope alone their inducement, but also, and more particularly,
in living so far as their frivolity and feebleness of mind
allows, according to the prescriptions of divine law, they are
1 De suo jure cedere—the phrase 'give up their rights' may be
more literal, but scarcely gives the spirit so well. Besides, to be ' sui
juris' is to be independent.
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 233
actuated by fear of being punished with dreadful torments
after death. And if men were not pervaded by this hope
and fear — if, on the contrary, they thought that Mind and
Body perished together — that there remained no longer
existence for wretches weary of the burden of Piety, they
would return to their natural bent, they would take lust as
the only guide, and would prefer the chances of fortune above
(their better) self. Now this seems to be not less absurd
than for a man, because good food will not preserve his body
for ever, to betake himself rather to poisons, and stuff himself
with deadly potions. Or it is as if, because a man finds the
Mind to be neither eternal nor immortal, he should therefore
prefer to be a fool and to live without Eeason. But all this
is so absurd that it scarcely deserves consideration.3
The warmest admirers of this Master must wish that
he had not written the above Scholium. It is true he
does not, like St. Paul, appear to sanction the ignoble
maxim, ' Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' A caveat
But he attributes this meanness to the vast majority
of mankind. And one wonders how many he expected
to influence by his noble Ethics. Nay, we cannot believe
that the kindly, gentle soul who could descend from the
solitary chamber of his sublime musings and talk, at
the evening meal, with landlady and children about the
church service, and the sermon of the day, or even lesser
interests of their daily life, could regard as mercenaries
and cowards the good, humble people who loved him.
Such a thought could not have been true then, and it
is not true now. The fact is that Spinoza's vulgus, Spinoza's
or multitude, think very little indeed either of death or
what comes after it. From the pulpit or religious
platform we may occasionally — though much more rarely
than of old — hear very emphatic or even lurid language
234 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Average on such subjects. But it is only hysterically inclined
wholly in- hearers who are much disturbed by it. The vast
different. . , . „ ITT
majority, perhaps ninety-five out of every hundred, go
home to their dinner or their supper and enjoy their
meal with as healthy an appetite as though they believed
neither in heaven nor hell.
Besides, medical men and other attendants on the
dying know that not two out of a hundred are ever
troubled by fears of a world to come. To what then is
the average good conduct and kindliness of the vast
majority of the multitude to be attributed ? It is un
deniable that religious traditions have a certain influence.
But it is only so far as these traditions fall in with the
course of moral evolution that advances almost inde-
Proximate pendently of them. And the course of this moral evolu-
causes of *
average tion proceeds from experience of utility to contentment
goodness,
with results of useful maxims; and from contentment
with results to the formation of a standard ; and from
the formation of a standard to the slow crystallisation of
an ideal, which is not wholly wanting among the ' multi
tude,' but reaches effulgence only in solitary souls like
Spinoza. The uncultured good people, the ordinary
church and chapel goers who lustily sing about heaven
on the Sunday and honestly mind their business during
the week without much thought of things supernal, have
their ideals, though these may be dim and veiled. Let
any one propose to them a mean trick in trade, or
treachery to a friend, and it will soon be proved that
they, no less than Spinoza, though within a narrower
horizon, value goodness for its own sake without the
slightest reference to heaven or hell.
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 235
Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter ; for it
is given in a nobler tone.
* Blessedness is not the reward of virtue, but virtue itself ;
nor do we rejoice in that blessedness because we subdue our
lusts ; but contrariwise, it is because we rejoice in it that we
are therefore able to subdue our lusts.'
The proof is as follows : —
'Blessedness consists in Love toward God, which Love
springs from the third kind of knowledge (intuition); and
therefore this Love is correlative with the Mind in as far as
the latter is active ; and accordingly it is Virtue itself.1 This
was the first thing (to be proved). Next, in proportion as
the Mind exults more in this divine Love or Blessedness, in
that proportion it understands the more, that is, it has the
greater power over the affections and also suffers the less
from evil affections. Thus it is because the Mind rejoices in
this divine Love or Blessedness that it has the power of
restraining lusts. And because man's power of controlling
his lusts is the prerogative of intellect alone, therefore no
one exults in blessedness as a consequence of controlling the
affections, but contrariwise, the power of controlling the
affections springs from blessedness itself.'
' Thus I have finished all that I had wished to set forth
concerning the power of the Mind over the affections and
concerning its freedom. From all this clearly appears the
surpassing worth of the Wise man as compared with the
ignorant, who is driven by lust alone. For the lattei
besides being distracted by a host of external influences, and
1 Because by Def. viii., Pt. iv., Virtue and Power are identical, i.e.
power of effecting such things as can be accounted for by, or find their
adequate cause in, man's (divine) nature alone. I interpolate (divine)
because wherever Spinoza speaks of a finite being's own nature, he
means the Mode or modification of divine Attributes which constitutes
the essence of that finite being.
236 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
constantly deprived of true contentment of soul, lives also
without a true sense of himself, of God, and of the world, and
at what moment he ceases to suffer he also ceases to be.
Whereas the Wise man, so far as he is (rightly) considered
such, is rarely shaken in mind; but being conscious of
himself and of God and of the world in an aspect of eternal
necessity, he never ceases to be, but for ever enjoys true
contentment of soul. If now the path which I have indicated
to such an attainment should seem very hard, yet still it can
be found. And indeed it must be hard, since it is so rarely
discovered. For if salvation were ready to hand, and could
be found without much trouble, why should it be neglected
by almost all mankind 1 But all noble attainments are as
difficult as they are rare.'
An appar- Sir Frederick Pollock, while acknowledging with pro-
sistency found sympathy the exalted moral tone of these final
words, observes that ' in their literal sense they are not
quite consistent ' with the Scholium to Proposition x. of
this Part. For there we are told that 'whoever will
assiduously study these lessons — for indeed they are not
difficult — and will practise them, assuredly that man will
within a short space of time be able generally to direct
his actions by the dictates of Keason/ Whereas here it
would appear that the very arduousness of the pathway
to the life of Eeason explains why ' few there be who
found also find it/ In the Gospel of Christ, however, as indeed the
Christian last-quoted words remind us, there is a strictly analogous
appearance of inconsistency susceptible, as I shall suggest,
of a like explanation. For we are told on the one hand
that the most suitable subjects of the kingdom of Heaven
are little children and child-like men and women, an
instruction certainly suggesting that the entrance to that
THE FKEEDOM OF MAN 237
kingdom is ' indeed not difficult.' And this is confirmed
by the saying, ' My yoke is easy and my burden is light.'
Yet, on the other hand, we are told ' strait is the gate
and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few
there be that find it.' Nay, ' many will seek to enter in
and shall not be able.' Now, whatever be the various
theological interpretations of the ' strait gate,' no one, so
far as I am aware, has held that it is in any way incon
sistent with the facility of entrance promised to the child
like and the meek. The only difficulty is found in the
average moral condition of mankind, which indisposes
them to ' strive to enter in/ and which indeed sometimes
plucks them back when they are half-way through the
gate. But the difficulty is not in the gate : it is in the
half-heartedness of the would-be pilgrims.
Perhaps the same explanation in principle is applicable
to the apparent inconsistency between the two passages its strait
in this Part of the Ethics. For in the former passage
comparative ease of entrance on the life of reason is con
ditional on assiduity of thought and diligence in practice.
If only those be given, any man may ' in a short space
of time be able generally to direct his actions by the
dictates of Eeason.' Yes ; but there is here too a ' strait
gate.' Inadequate ideas must be abandoned, or at least
appreciated at their true worth. There must be a sincere
and earnest craving for salvation from passion. There
must be a total surrender of self-assertion beyond the
limits of that finite Mode of the divine Attributes which
is our essence and only being. No wonder then that in
his mournful remembrance of the aversion of Man in
every age to heroic moral endeavour the Master should
238 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
in his last words magnify the need of earnestness if
freedom is to be attained.1
Does Much harder to interpret are those sentences in the
Spinoza _
teach < con- epilogue, which, if the idea were not so utterly contrary
ditional im- .
mortality'? to Spinoza s whole philosophy, might at first sight appear
to have anticipated a doctrine very popular some thirty
or forty years ago, and known as ' conditional immortality.'
For we are told that the ignorant man (i.e. the slave of
passion) ceases to exist when he ceases to suffer, whereas
the wise man (i.e. the free man) never ceases to exist.
Now, to get the right point of view here, we must
remember the Master's reiterated warning against our
inveterate confusion of eternity with infinite duration.
But the eternal life which he himself lives is not in time
at all. For when he was phenomenally subject to time
he fixed his mind on God as All in All, and recognised
The true that his true self was a finite Mode of God. Now in God
ness of there is no past nor future. Therefore Spinoza thought
of himself under the aspect of eternity as a finite Mode
of God, and thus having neither beginning nor end.
Not only so ; but from the bewilderment occasioned by
1 Sir Frederick Pollock thinks the apparent inconsistency may be
explained by the assumption that Spinoza contemplated the possibility
of two grades in the life of reason — the one c a practical standard . . .
attainable by ordinary men,' the other a higher life of strenuous
thought and ' contemplative science.' The suggestion is amply justi
fied by the analogy of similar grades in the great religions. But I
venture to think that if Spinoza had intended this he would have
expressed it more plainly. For it would obviously have facilitated the
acceptance of his ideas, as similar concessions to the practical and
social difficulties of 'ordinary men ' quickened the spread of Buddhism
and Christianity. I cannot help thinking that the above analogy with
a similar inconsistency in the Gospel fits in better with the whole
scheme of the Ethics.
conscious
ness of
eternal life.
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 239
successive experiences of parts only of the divine Whole
he sought relief in a vision of the Infinite Living
Universe, within which everything has its serviceable
place, and in which all discords are reduced to harmony.
Even his intellect was baffled by the insoluble problem
of the Many and the One. But in his view the best
approximation man can make to a vision of the co-exist
ence of innumerable parts in one perfect eternal Whole
is the conception of inevitable sequence. That is to say, importance
we cannot image the Infinite as it is, in what we may doctrine of
call its eternal moment of being. Yet we are sure that if sequence"6
we could in vision see it as it is, we should recognise that
every part is necessary to all the rest, and could not
be otherwise than it is — without changing the whole
Universe — that is, the eternal and changeless. But this
is just what the doctrine of inevitable sequence teaches as mediat-
under the aspect of time. That is, it instructs us that the eternal*
though the necessities of our finite nature compel us to temporal,
see things under the aspect of time, or as subject to
succession, we are not on that account justified in deny
ing the fixity of relationship which all parts of the Whole
must have under the aspect of eternity. Spinoza's Spinoza's
.,.„.. „ . . „ _ . _, eternal life.
eternal life, therefore, is a consciousness of himself as a
finite Mode of God, and of the Universe as an infinity of
divine Modes, all together constituting absolute perfec
tion.1 Into this consciousness no thought of death enters.
In his contemplations all things, past, present, and to come,
work together for good, that is, are essential elements in
1 Not, of course, in the sense of a finished work, but in the sense of
such absolute concinnity, that an infinite intellect— if the term be
allowed— would realise the impossibility, or rather the inconceivability,
of any smallest part being other than it is.
240 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
the perfect Whole. And the change from the illusion
of succession to the reality of co-existence cannot pos
sibly make him 'cease to be.' Therefore there is no
disturbance of his serenity ; but being conscious of God
and the world with a sense of eternal necessity, he for
ever enjoys contentment of soul.
The (morally) ignorant man, the slave of blind desire,
is not so. For knowing nothing of his true relations to
things as they are, he has no consciousness of his true
self — as a Mode of God — no realisation of the apparent
The fate world as God-manifest. And though we are not to forget
slavery! that the ignorant man's body and soul have ' an aspect
of eternity,' he is not aware of it. He has no power to
'lay hold on eternal life.' His notion of existence is
gratification of a perpetual craving, a craving only aggra
vated by attempts to stay it. And for him, when craving
ceases, existence ceases too. True, this 'inadequate
cause,' the (morally) ignorant man, is in God. But his
idea of himself is inadequate because he is not content
with the divine idea of himself, but confuses it with
other things which do not belong to it.1 He therefore
mars it, and can have no conscious part in the eternal
life of God. Thus the difference between the free man
and the slave of blind desire is not a matter of external
destiny in heaven or hell. It is rather a subjective
difference, inasmuch as the former is conscious of eternal
life and the other is not.
( The Eternal knoweth the way of the righteous ; lut the
way of the ungodly shall perish.1
1 Prop, xi., Pt. ii.
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 241
CONCLUSION
THE liberalism of present-day theology and what we Changes in
may call the mystical tendencies of contemporary science Of thought
indicate enormous changes in the world of thought since Spinoza's
the seventeenth century. And those to whom Spinoza day*
is not merely a philosopher, but a seer, can hardly help
asking themselves as they lay down his Ethics, how far
those changes have made possible, or may in the near
future make possible, a wider human reverence for his
great vision of God. Of course there is no question here
of the adoption or propagation of a religion in the ecclesi
astical sense. For that Shechinah is the emblem of no DO they
sect. It is rather the infinite background, ' dark with
excess of light,' from which all faiths of the world f
emerge. Nor does reverence for that vision of God S°£ ofothe
Ethics ?
necessarily involve an entire rejection of historic re
ligions. Indeed, long before Spinoza's day many a devout
Christian has, in the innermost shrine of his soul, cher
ished a Weltanschauung impossible to distinguish from
Pantheism. At the same time it must be acknowledged
that any forced and obstinate adhesion to any fragment
ary article of faith which has lost its hold on a man's
reason must needs incapacitate that man from appreciat
ing the larger faith. ' Truth in the inward parts,' a pos
session which makes merely self-willed belief impossible,
is essential to the realisation of Spinoza's vision of God. Relations
of Spinoza s
The question asked above, then, amounts to this, doctrine of
Putting aside subsidiary details of definition and of man to
method, are there any signs that the world is nearer than thought
Q
242 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
it was in Spinoza's day to his essential doctrines of God
and man ? I think the question may fairly be answered
I. in the affirmative. For, first, the mystery of matter,
tendencies which is now more widely recognised than ever before in all
theacknow- the history of thought, has obviously a certain spiritual
myftory of suggestiveness which points in the direction of Spinoza's
matter' Substance One and Eternal. For instance, contemporary
science has made Dalton's atomic theory utterly un
tenable, except, of course, so far as concerns its doctrine
of definitely proportional combinations. But though this
latter part of the doctrine is unassailed, the explanation
of it by the hypothesis of ultimate and indestructible
atoms has been practically abandoned. For these atoms
have been dissolved away into something indistinguish-
Practicaire- able from Boscovich's ' centres of force.' The latter most
Zrceonv?ch'°s original thinker knew nothing, indeed, of ' electrons.'
offorce. But the substitution of that mystic word for his centres
of force is rather a change of terms than of theory. The
believers in the finality of the new views of matter may
indeed rejoin with some plausibility that the above
substitution is more than a mere change of terms, because
the action of the presumed electric force in the infini-
Faciiities tesimal vortices formed of electrons is calculable and
tLCandla" verifiable, which could hardly be said of Boscovich's
^nfication yague < centres of force.' But why not ? Boscovich was
necessarily o.reaf mathematician in addition to his other scientific
assure the M fc>
fundamen- attainments And it is incredible that he should nave
tal truth of . . , .
the work- propounded a theory which he did not see his way to
thesisyon" maintain on mathematical principles. Indeed the pre-
sumed ' force ' without the epithet electric at each infini
tesimal centre into which Boscovich dissolved matter
THE FKEEDOM OF MAN 243
away, was just as much subject to measurement and
verification as it is with the epithet added to it. Nor
should it be forgotten that one main attraction of John
Dalton's theory was the facility and apparent complete
ness with which it lent itself to measurement, calculation,
and verification. Yet all the same, we now know that
the fundamental truth, which makes these calculations
and verifications possible, must be something very
different from Dalton's idea of hard, indestructible atoms.
We are now asked to recognise, as the really ultimate New work-
constituent of matter, an infinitesimal vortex formed in thesisyP°
the ether by enormous electric force. But experience of
vanished finalities surely justifies a healthy scepticism
even in regard to such brilliant and fascinating theories
as this. For the only term which is knowable to us in
this new theory, or which belongs to what Spinoza calls
1 common notions ' — that is, the common stock of human
experience — is ' vortex/ a thing that can at any time be The vortex,
exhibited on a large scale by any popular lecturer on
science, or even by a skilful smoker of tobacco. Yet
even though the thing signified by the word be thus
producible on what, comparatively, may be called a
gigantic scale, it is not easy to see how these complex
revolving rings, with no stability and but momentary
continuity, can help much to make conceivable the
infinitesimal vortices in the ether whose prerogative it is
to simulate, for an indefinite period and in many cases
for seons, the supposed indestructible atom of Democritus,
Lucretius, and Dalton.
But beyond that word ' vortex ' there is no single term
in the newest theories of matter that presents any clear
244 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Ether. image whatever to the mind. For as to the ' ether/ no
one, however learnedly he may be able to calculate its
1 stresses ' or ' tensions/ and its undulations or vibrations,
can pretend to have the remotest conception of what it
is. And the mere fact that certain working hypotheses
about its properties have been found to accord with
mathematical calculations about the movements and
action of light and electricity, proves nothing whatever
as to the fundamental essence of the thing itself. For,
as already noted, Dalton's working hypothesis about
atoms seemed for many years to be amply verified by the
uniform results of physical and mathematical research
into chemical combinations. And yet we now know
that there are no such things at all as indestructible,
indivisible, unchangeable atoms, and that the laws of
chemical combination must depend upon something else.
Electricity. Then again, Electricity, which plays so large a part in
the latest theories of Matter, is just as unknowable as
the Ether. Scientific men can indeed measure its force,
calculate its action, and harness it to engines. But there
is scarcely a teacher of its mysteries who does not begin
his lessons with a warning to his students that, however
much they may learn about electricity, they must not
expect to know what it is.
The hearing Under these circumstances it would be unreasonable
mysteV of to ask us to allow that the new theories of Matter have
matter. reached — or have any prospect of reaching — finality. For
if the seemingly solid atom, for ages the stronghold of
materialistic science, has been found to be a bewildering
whirl of swift electrons, who is to guarantee us that the
electron itself will not reveal some time a still inner
THE FBEEDOM OF MAN 245
world of forces yet unnamed ? To assume the impossi
bility of this would be as irrational as the hope sometimes
cherished in bygone days that some impossible increase
of microscopic power would discover the innermost core
of matter, whether atom or otherwise, and so make it
obvious to sense. Whereas experience, according to the
witness of science, lends no encouragement whatever to
such hopes. For we only know that the more the
powers of the microscope have been increased, the more
perfectly continuous and the more exquisite in refinement
are organic tissues made to appear. Nor do inorganic
sections or granules give any encouragement whatever to
the hope that a step has been made toward unveiling the
ultimate constituent parts.
The truth is that the most recent theories of Matter, Modem
so far from giving us a sense of finality by clearness of matternot
definition, rather open up unexpected vistas of specula-
tion. And far in the perspective of these vistas is the &estlve-
revelation of a Universe at once material, spiritual, and
divine, such as fascinated Spinoza. For he was not a
dreamer who dissolved away the material world into
fancies of the mind. Nor could he tolerate the harsh
dualism which makes 'Mind' and 'Matter' essentially
alien to each other and wholly incommensurable. To
him they were different forms of the same divine Being And the
and, together with other endless modes of unrevealed
infinite Attributes, constitute the Universe. But on
such questions argument is out of place except to prove
tendencies of thought or probabilities of future advance.
And so far as this limited purpose is concerned, I believe
I have shown some reasons for thinking that most recent
246 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
theories of Matter point to a conception of the material
Universe such as may easily in the future merge in that
of Spinoza.
The idea of Secondly, it is impossible to disguise the fact that
creation where theories of a Creation, and of a Creator entirely
discredited.
separate therefrom, are still held, they are either un
willingly accepted on account of certain now discredited
doctrines of catastrophe and ruin leading to the final
death of all worlds and thereby implying the birth of the
Universe in time ; or else they are tolerated through an
amiable desire to reassure the fears of the multitude for
the mythology the latter hold so dear.
Theory of Now as to the former notion of a Universe gradually
universal
death aggregating itself into a huge, congealed sphere, its very
loss of grotesqueness always repelled reverence even where
knowledge was lacking to show its fallacy. Surely
where the scale is infinite, no mortal man should presume
to propound such a theory merely because a few orbs
have apparently collided, or because the existence of
innumerable dark orbs seems probable. The supposed
Not a inevitable process of congelation alternating with vapour-
certain .
conclusion, isation caused by new collisions on a continually growing
scale until there shall be left only one inconceivably vast
frozen orb, may quite fairly be regarded as a nightmare
of mortal ignorance, rather than as the conclusion of
inexorable logic.1
1 I have quoted elsewhere scientific authority for this opinion
(Religion of the Universe, p. 129, etc. ), and it would be out of place to
repeat here what has been there said. It may suffice here to refer to
Sir Norman Lockyer's suggested cycle of star life, and to the interest
ing theory of ' shearing ' collisions propounded by Professor Bickerton
of New Zealand. Quite recently also Professor Robert K. Duncan of
Jefferson College, U.S.A., in his work The New Knoivledge (London,
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 247
But granted that no one, not even the most competent
and learned of our instructors, can yet speak with any
absolute certainty upon ultimate questions concerning
the material Universe, surely here is an opportunity for
loyalty to that instinct of faith of which theologians
have been loud in praise. Why may not those of us
whose souls are repelled by the grotesque theory of a
dying Universe take advantage of the recent doctrine of
' the will to believe ' ? I am aware that this doctrine The win to
has been formulated and maintained in the interest of
the curious temporary reaction which has of late inclined
many learned, philosophic, and scientific men to return
to the mythology of the early Christian centuries. But
that doctrine is a two-edged weapon. For if some have
an emotional propension toward a religious system of a
personal Creator, personal Providence, revelation, incarna
tion and miracles related thereto, why may not others
have an emotional propension to a system that loyally
takes things as they are, and excludes alike a beginning
and an end ? Why may we not feel an emotional pro-
pension toward a faith that admits only one Being
manifested by infinite Attributes, such as are subject to
infinite modifications all keeping an eternal and un
broken order ? Surely the vision of the Universe is not
less, but more impressive, not less but more divine, if
we regard it as in its totality immune from all processes
of manufacture or decay, as being in itself both substance
and life; and as offering for study neither origins nor
Hodder and Stoughton, 1906) has given in Part VIL, Chap, iii., a very
judicial statement of the position of this question. In his summing-
up he regards the eternity of the Universe as the conclusion more
acceptable 'to most people of scientific training.'
248 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
ends, but only the actual relations of its apparent
parts.
Indeed there is only one worthy reason to be given
for the favour at present accorded by men of intellect
to 'the will to believe' the old mythology, and this
reason is involved in the inveterate tradition that the
interests of morality and of the higher or spiritual life
are bound UP with that Belief. But to adhere to tradi
tion of tion on such a subject, to the neglect of a human ex-
morals, . J
perience which far outranges that tradition, is scarcely
reasonable. We must admit indeed that, by the very
nature of religious evolution out of Animism through
Polytheism and Henotheism to Monotheism with an out-
a fear not look toward Pantheism, it has been inevitable that the
any \vide * greater number of lofty and saintly characters should
human° have been found among those who have striven to
experience. expan(j an(j exajt an(j refine the idea Qf a personal QQ(j
and of His varied dealings with mankind. Inevitable,
I say, because that was precisely the stage of evolution
at which it became possible for the spiritual nature of
man to disengage itself, at least in part, from the coarse
influences of Animism and Fetishism. But on the other
hand, there are two noteworthy facts of world-wide
religious evolution which distinctly forbid any hasty
judgment in favour of the exclusive claims of the Judseo-
Christian tradition to the guardianship of morality. For,
first, this process of moral and spiritual refinement went
on amongst so-called 'Pagans' such, for example, as
Socrates, Plato, Seneca, Tacitus, Marcus Aurelius, and a
countless multitude of others forgotten or unforgotten.
And, secondly, one of the most remarkable and wide-
THE FREEDOM OF MAK 249
spread of all religious revivals, that of the Buddha,
without denying any theories of deity, simply ignored
them as entirely irrelevant to moral issues. But in
all these cases alike, high moral aspiration and ' the
enthusiasm of humanity' were found quite compatible
with entire ignorance of, or else complete indifference
to, the creeds of Moses and the Church.
As for the claims of Pantheism to be the ultimate
religion, those have been largely the subject of the
preceding Handbook, and cannot be repeated here. My
point now is simply that the acknowledgment of those
claims has been delayed, not so much by Eeason as by
the preoccupation of even the most thoughtful minds
with the essential necessity to morality of belief in
Creation, a personal God, and man's personal immor
tality. Take away this supposed necessity, which the
widest survey of human experience contradicts, and the
inherent un worthiness, incongruity, and absurdity of the
theory of an opifex deus, making, minding, and mending
the world, becomes patent, glaring, and repulsive.
That there is at any rate a current of feeling and Signs of a
growing
opinion tending toward a recognition of this incongruity repulsion to
is made probable and even apparent by the extremely miracle.
vague and indefinite form in which the doctrine of
Creation and a personal God is held, even under the
influence of ' the will to believe.' For it has little, if
anything at all, in common with the definite Chaldseo-
Hebrew cosmogony received of old and, until our own
early days, held by the Christian Church. And no
wonder ; because, to the compilers of the Bible cosmogony,
the Universe lay within so small a compass, as compared
250 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
with the outlook of modern knowledge, that the analogy
between a human builder of a palace or city and a
celestial builder of heaven and earth did not seem at
all impossible or even difficult of conception. Indeed
the analogy is carried so far that the celestial craftsman
is described as doing his work in successive stages, his
superior might being indicated by the swiftness with
which each stage is accomplished, as they occupy only
one day each. But the anthropomorphic analogy involved
in this progress by diurnal stages is too obvious for denial.
It is not characteristic of omniscience and omnipotence
which, presumably, could just as easily have made in
one moment heaven and earth and all that in them is.
But the reminiscence of the human workman was too
strong ; and therefore the work was done by stages.1
Superiority True, this mythical story, which in its present form
Hebrew is certainly a late document, and adapted to a more
cultured age than that of the original Chaldee or
Sumerian myth, does not presume to ascribe to Jahweh
the use of tools or instruments, or even the application
of hands 2 to the work. With a sublimity generally and
deservedly recognised, the narrative makes the word of
God the sufficient means for separating the light from
the darkness, for dividing the 'firmament' from the
ocean, for establishing the bounds of sea and land, as
1 Any attempt to see in the creation days a forecast of evolution is
surely a harsh and incongruous insult to the simplicity of the ancient
tale.
2 In other parts of the Old Testament, however— mostly in parts
older than the Priestly Code — creation is often spoken of as the work
of God's hands. See Isa. xlv. 12 ; Ps. viii. 6 ; xcv. 5 ; cv. 25 ; Job
x. 8, etc. etc.
THE FREEDOM OF MAN 251
well as for all the other processes that culminated in
the creation of man after God's own image. The whole
story regarded as a poetic myth has a grandeur which
gives it a high place in the literature of religion.
But when we contrast this tale from the childhood Feebleness
. of late
of the world with the vague, indefinite, and inarticulate attempts at
, , . . rationalism.
allusions to creation in recent writing on world-origins,
the change is like that from a child's fairy tale to a
preacher's feeble attempts to moralise it. There is no
real relation between the two things. The conception —
if such it can be called — which unreasoning tradition
would impose upon modern knowledge is wholly in
congruous with the latter. For the stupendous and
infinitely varied Universe, to which no bounds have been
or can be set, is really incommensurable with the two-
or three-storied structure that constituted the Chaldaeo-
Hebrew world. Let us for a moment imagine that our
knowledge of the material Universe had attained its
present extent before the Chaldseo-Hebrew tradition had
been made known to Western races. Suppose that the
poem of creation had been recited for the first time by
Eastern missionaries to London, New York, Paris, and
Berlin audiences familiar with the nebular hypothesis
and with the theories of the Milky Way and with
baffled efforts to count the stars, and with probabilities
of innumerable repetitions of planetary systems like our
own. Can any one sincerely doubt for a moment how
such a message must have been received by even the
most devout and religious hearers ? No candid or
impressionable soul could have denied its charm, but
the notion of accepting it as, in any sense whatever, a
252 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
reasonable account of the actual origin of the world
would not even have occurred to the hearers. Of course
I may be told that, even though the story is with us
a venerable tradition, no intelligent believer thinks of
accepting it literally. Then why accept it at all ? Only
because it gives a religious sanction to the dogma of
creation in some sense, which dogma is supposed to be
essential to the most important articles of the creed —
a personal God, the Fall of Man, Incarnation, Atone
ment, and human Immortality.
'the origin ^n ^s subject many minds are in the same position
of species.' ag aimost au were in regar(j to the origin of species
before the epoch-making utterances of Darwin and
Wallace. For it was then thought essential to religion
to believe that each species was the product of a special
creative act. Yet such a faith was utterly vague, in
articulate, and incapable of distinct presentment. For
any pious but candid man who tried to picture to
himself the objective actuality of such creation found
himself involved in absurdities. To maintain in general
terms that each species was the result of a creative act
seemed easy enough. But to picture to oneself either
the sudden starting into existence of a whale or an
elephant, or the building up of such huge bodies by a
divine worker out of surrounding materials, was an im
possible effort. And perhaps one of the greatest spiritual
blessings conferred by Darwin's Origin of Species upon
mankind was its deliverance of us from the conventional
necessity of pretending to believe what, in the 'sub
conscious ' region of the mind, was recognised as absurd.
Yet even greater will be the emancipation when man-
THE FEEEDOM OF MAN 253
kind finally renounce the hopeless attempt to conceive Relief from
the do^ma
any act of creation at all, and acquiesce in the truth of creation,
preached by Heaven and Earth that, amid unceasing,
finite change, there is one infinite, changeless Universe,
without beginning and without end. In proportion as
this truth is recognised, the world will need Spinoza.
For in effect the surrender of the idea of creation means in.
Taking"
that we take things as they are, and that we cease from things as
, . . . . . . . , they are.
curious and vain inquiries into origins and endings.
Now this is precisely what Spinoza teaches, though the
plainness of his doctrine is at first obscured to the
student by the profundity and subtlety of his analysis
of things as they are. Thus, when we are confronted
with ideas of eternal Substance and its Attributes and
their modifications, we are almost disposed to mistake all
this for a new theory of creation. But of course nothing
could be farther from the mind of the Master. For he is
only telling how, according to Spinoza's judgment, the
rational man should think of things as they are. There
has never been a birth of a Universe ; there is no
' design ' ; there is no ' plan ' with a beginning and an
end. On the infinite scale — which means on the scale
of all that is — things are as they always have been and
always will be. For the finite changes that attract our
interest so much do not affect this eternal sameness any
more than a summer ripple affects ' the stillness of the
central sea.'
But it is precisely on our attitude toward these finite The practi-
changes, of which our own existence forms a part, that of theanng
Spinoza's teaching is at once most interesting and prac- 1
tical. For while not drawing upon our ' will to believe/
254 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
he fixes our attention and excites our aspiration by dis
playing the glory of our spontaneity as parts of the
universal divine life. He shows us that, by making our
finite life an effort for the preservation of our highest self
as a manifestation of God, and by defending this sacred
domain against the inroads of passion begotten by
inadequate ideas, we may attain a peace which the world
of greed and pleasure cannot give and cannot take
away.
In other words, this contemplative knowledge of all
things as in God and of God gives the utter restfulness
of self-abnegation and of faith. But it is not a self-
abnegation without effort, and not a faith without self-
Conditions control. The heart aching under bereavement, the pure
aspirant baffled by failure, the lover of man haunted by
the black terrors of human history — all at first seek
impossible restoration or unattainable compensation, or
logical explanations fitting in with imperfect knowledge.
And only when all such consolations fail, as fail they
must, save so far as they soothe us with opiates of deceit,
then perhaps recurs the harsh but healing question asked
of complaining sorrow long ago — ' Should it be according
to thy mind ? ' Was this unsearchable maze of infinite
movements co-ordinated and balanced to give you plea
sure ? or is the glory of man its ultimate goal ? It has no
goal at all. Or if our human craving for purpose cannot
be restrained within its proper sphere, but insists on a
purpose for the Infinite as well as the finite, then we say
that the self-existence of the divine Universe is purpose
enough. On the infinite scale it is now, as it always was,
and always will be. It is only the finite modes of divine
THE FKEEDOM OF MAN 255
Attributes that show apparent change, and in them are
comprehended all the phases of human experience.
Within those limits effort and hope and unselfish ambi
tion have their scope, scintillating with finite manifesta
tions of God. There always has been and there always
will be enough of joy in human experience to make life,
on the whole, a delight.
To embitter our souls about the darker phases of life Embitter-
ment comes
concerning which, as Spinoza teaches, we have only of inade-
' inadequate ideas/ is the reverse of self-abnegation and
the abandonment of self-control. It is therefore the
betrayal of faith. But it is the supreme virtue and
valour of the mind to see all things, whether to us
grievous or joyous, as necessary and inevitable phases of
one eternal Being. And though it may not be given to
all to attain this — at least not for many generations to
come — yet those who do attain it and realise their own
place in the divine Whole reach, as the Master says, the
highest perfection possible to human nature ; and therein
lies their heaven. I must iterate and reiterate that no
fatalism, still less any acquiescence in pessimism, is here No fatalism,
taught. Spontaneity, or Will, effort and struggle and
hope and fear are all incidental to human nature in this
as much as in any other system of ethics. But none of
these can break or derange the order of inevitable sequence
in finite existence. And when all is done that we can
do, when much is left that we cannot do, while we have
many things to enjoy and much to suffer, the conscious
ness that we are parts of the Eternal Life and do nothing
in vain, does bring peace. Indeed, to this final rest in
things as they are on the infinite scale, many inspired
256 ETHICS OF SPINOZA
words of prophecy or poetry are more applicable than to
any trust in a supernatural Person who differs from our
selves only in might and degree of quality rather than in
kind. The craving for a God who will do — in the future
if not now — just what we want to have done, has often
produced him, as it produced the golden calves. But
when produced he is so incongruous with the order
of Nature and the course of evolution or history, and
indeed with everything but just the private service we
want from him as men, or even as sectaries or patriots,
that faith in him always feels the gnawing of criticism
and doubt, rarely attains peace, and never eternal
rest.
' There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Kough-hew them how we will.'
The true This is surely more credible of a God who is all that
fhatshlpes is, has been, or will be, than of a separate being who
Lds' first makes a world and then has to mind it and mend
it. And the true prophets, inspired of old by the
Eternal Life, often uttered words of which the full scope
needed the illumination of a larger creed than their
Noblest traditions allowed. ' The peace of God which passeth all
understanding' must certainly be transcendental, and
cannot be a mere assurance of a reward after death.
priftat!oner Surely the peace which comes of acquiescence in our own
place in the Eternal Life seems better to answer the
description. Or take the Hebrew prophet's words, ' Thou
wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on
thee, because he trusteth in thee.' However profoundly
and justly our sympathies may be touched by such an
approximation to ultimate religion, the conditions of
THE FBEEDOM OF MAN 257
entire realisation were wanting in a monotheism which
worshipped only the greatest personal being among all
others. For that realisation requires not only an impreg
nable, but a self-evident rest for faith; such a rest can
only be found by a merging of all things in a unity of
substance and energy ensuring perpetual order in finite
things, and perfection beyond all thought in the infinite
Whole.
Now this is just what Spinoza teaches. For we already Conclusion
of the whole
saw in our study of the First Part of the Ethics that the matter.
fact of our present existence necessarily involves eternal
being, in and by which we are what we are. The denial
of this is really unthinkable, and all apparent denials are
only dissents from this or that interpretation of the
impregnable fact. But if we have followed this Master
in his lessons on the blessedness of referring all things to
God and of finding in Him the infinite complement of
our fragmentary life, we may dare to claim for faith a
rest such as even Isaiah did not know. Nay, the con
nection between the absolute trust and the ' perfect
peace ' has a rationality which it could not have in tradi
tional religion. For between trust in dim, incongruous
visions of a transfigured tribal deity, and rest in the
substance of all that is, there is all the difference
separating even the noblest superstition from devout
reason.
THE END
INDEX
ABSOLUTE and relative truth, 31.
Abstract — Spinoza's use of term, 30.
Accident, as ' Act of God,' 44.
Action, meaning of, 171.
contrary in same subject, 188.
good, dependent on Reason,
172.
joy in, 106.
moral quality of, 164.
Actuality, Spencer's, 9.
Adam, Fall of, 167.
Adequate. See Cause, Idea.
Affability, 123, 177.
Affections — in Spinoza's sense, 54 n..
83.
all from three primaries, 98.
— - definitions of, 109-126.
limited by cause, 189.
Agnosticism, 188.
Agur rebukes Pessimists, 84.
Ambition, 123, 177.
Anger, 122.
Annihilation, contrary to Nature,
97.
Anthropomorphism, 41, 131, 133.
Anthropopithecus, 20.
Appetite — a form of Desire, 97.
Arnold, M.,21.
Association, moral force of, 63, 99.
105, 201.
Assur, 94.
Astonishment, 112.
Atheism, impossible to Spinoza, 50.
Atoms, 65, 242.
Attributes, 8, 13.
innumerable, 17, 25.
not additions to Substance, 24,
33.
Attributes. See also ' Pollock. '
Augury, origin of, 105.
Augustine, St., 131, 214.
Avarice, 124.
Aversion, 114.
BABE'S progress, 55-6, 194.
Babism, 106, 145 n.
Baseness, 154.
Beauty, 47.
Benevolence, 122.
Bets on unknown certainties, 76.
Bickerton, Professor, 246 n.
Biology, 61.
Bitterness, 116.
Blessedness, 81, 235.
Bodily mobility and Mind, 61.
Body, human, 52.
as divine idea, 216.
object of Mind, 53-4.
servant of higher life, 226-7.
Boldness, 123.
Bondage, meaning of, 127-8.
Boscovich, 242.
Buddhist ritual, effect on Catholics,
100.
CATHOLICITY of Pantheism, 213-14,
248.
Cause, adequate, 90.
as sum of conditions, 34.
— inadequate, 90-1.
intermediate or secondary, 35 n.
no final, 130-1.
Spinoza's idea of, obsolete, 35, 56.
Cell, living, 133.
Chance, 76, 85.
See Contingency.
259
260
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Charles I., 103-4.
Cheerfulness, 158.
Chemical combination, 65.
Childhood, influence of its beliefs,
204-5.
Clifford, Professor, 19, 20, 55, 58.
Cogitatio, meaning of, 17.
wider than consciousness, 18.
Coleridge, 20.
Ancient Mariner, 213.
Colour, 16.
Commiseration, 116.
Common notions, 63, 200-1.
Confidence, 115.
Consciousness, 18 et seq., 58.
Consternation, 123.
Contempt, 113.
Contingency, 67, 76, 138.
Gontrat social, 155 n.
Cosmogony, Bible, 249-50.
cannot be rationalised, 251.
Courtesy, 123.
Cowardice, 123.
Creation, 50, 246, 249.
Crime, 156-7.
Cruelty, 122.
of Nature, alleged, 42, 84.
Crystal, 133.
Custom and morals, 118.
Cyclopcean masonry, 136.
DALTON, JOHN, 242-3.
Darwin, Origin, etc., 252.
David's sin, 72.
Dead worlds, 246.
Death affects only finite relations,
226.
not to be thought of, 167.
not feared by Eeason, 225-8.
Depreciation, 117. See Self-.
Derision, 114.
Descartes, 17, 181 n.
Design in Nature, fallacy of, 41, 46,
132.
Desire, 97, 110, 163, 171.
cause of anthropomorphism,
131.
no test of truth, 205.
Desire, use of, 136.
when active, 171.
passive, 171.
Despair, 115.
Devotion, 114.
Dipsomaniac, the, 141.
Disease, 135.
Division, in what sense possible, 29.
of substance impossible, 29.
Dogberry, 194.
Drunkard, his delusion and salvation,
191.
Drunkenness. See Inebriety.
Duncan, Professor E. K., 246 n.
ECCLESIASTES quoted, 34.
Education, effects of, 118.
Effort, place of, 137-8, 141, 143.
Electricity, 244.
Elsmere, Robert, 188.
Emulation, 121.
Entities of fancy, 48.
Envy, 117.
Eoliths, 128.
Equanimity, 81.
Essence (essentia), 13, 14.
Eternal life, 59, 78, 79, 216, 218, 238.
morals, 156 n.
Eternity, 25, 78, 35, 216.
Ether, the, 244.
' Ethics ' — anachronism of form,
2.
how far in essence permanent, 3.
how far original, 2.
meaning of, 4.
special difficulties of, 1-4.
written for after-time, 1.
Euclid and his critics, 11.
Evil, in what sense an illusion, 135.
knowledge of, 166-7.
See Good.
Evolution, 85.
unknown to Spinoza, 52.
Extension as Attribute, 14, 52-3.
FALSEHOOD, 71.
Fatalism, 194, 255.
Favour, 116.
INDEX
261
Fear, 100, 115, 188.
Ferocity, 122.
Fetishism, 106, 248.
Final causes. See Cause.
Finite existence, 32-4, 50, 57.
illusion inseparable from, 138.
neither independent nor eternal,
6.
mode implies infinite Attribute,
16-17.
movement and infinite rest, 34,
254.
Flattery, 176.
Food, doctrine of, 178.
Form, 16.
Fortitude, 169.
Freedom, 37, 40, 89, 104, 138, 168,
169, 181 etseq.
and Peace, 239-40.
GLADNESS, 116.
Glorying, 120.
God, adequate knowledge of, 78.
all that is or can be, 25.
as necessary Being, 17.
as Substance, 8, 56.
hatred of, impossible, 210-11.
idea of, associated with every
thing, 202, 207.
identified with Universe, 6.
in creature life, 183.
— • love of and to. See Love.
man not final cause of His
action, 41, 254.
not subject to desire, 43.
peace of, 219, 224, 254.
perfection of, 43.
Spinoza's proof of, paraphrased,
6 et seq.
reverence for, destroys hatred,
159-60.
transcends consciousness, 18.
but not the Universe, 23.
God-consciousness, 188, 207, 228.
Golf-passion, 189-90,
Good and evil— relative, 40, 45, 46,
47, 88, 128, 135, 166, 172.
Good, meaning of, 135, 166.
Good, to be thought of more than
evil, 199.
Good-nature, 117.
Goodness is blessedness, 230, etc.
Gratitude, 122, 160.
Gravitation, 65.
Grief, 97, 111, 137, 157.
HARLOTRY, 176.
Hatred, 98, 114, 158.
Hauser, Kaspar, 61.
Heaven and Hell, 70, 182.
Henry vin., 150.
Hermits, error of, 174-5.
Home, power of its associations,
202.
Honour, sense of, 154.
Hope, 100, 115, 158.
Humility, 118, 160-1.
Huxley, T. H., 187.
I AM — as divine name, 130.
Idea, 54.
adequate, 66, 70.
clear, moral power of, 192,
197.
distinct or confused, 200, 201.
— inadequate, 66, 70, 71, 133.
Ideals, human, 129.
Idolatry, origin of, 78-9.
modern, 183 n.
persistence of, 79.
Ignorance, no foundation for faith,
42, 44.
difference of, from recognition of
Unknowable, 44 n.
Inclination, 114.
Indignation, 116, 160, 177.
Inebriety, 124.
Imagination depreciated, 229.
Immortality, 215.
Intuition, 63-4, 67-8.
in Weltanschauung, 218-19,
221.
Intellect, 31, 229.
to rule the affections, 197.
its perfection, 172.
Intellectual love. See Love.
262
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
JAHWEH, 130.
Jesus, teacher of goodness for its own
sake, 230.
Joy, 97, 111, 157.
power of, 143, 144-5, 179.
Judas Iscariot, 139.
Just and unjust as terms of relation,
157.
KAABA, 106.
Kepler, 165.
Kingdom of God, 145.
Knowledge, doctrine of, 63.
and feeling, 143.
— adequate, excludes evil, 159-GO.
LAW, 37 n.
Lear, King, 184-6.
Lockyer, Sir Norman, 246.
Love, 98, 110, 113.
selfish, 113.
sensual, 158.
— to God (intellectual), 187, 206 ct
seq., 221, 223, 224.
of God to man, 212, 213.
Loyalty, social, 154.
Lucretius, 106.
Lust, 124.
Luxuriousness, 124.
MAN, a finite Mode, etc., 52.
chief end of, 172.
dependent on man, 148.
— proper place of, 88, 96.
not outside Nature, 84, 163, 173.
not separate from God, 69.
when an inadequate cause, 91.
Many and the One, 239.
Marriage, 176.
royal and religion, 203.
Mathematics, use of, 42.
Materialism falsely imputed, 14.
decay of, 21.
Matter, and Mind, 10.
mystery of, 242 et seq.
Maurice, F. D., 218.
Maxims, use of, 188.
Mercy, 122.
Milton, 106, 207, 210.
Mind, human, a finite Mode of an in
finite Attribute, 52, 55.
as idea of the Body, 54.
benefited by things external,
148.
— its joy in activity, 106-7.
knowledge of itself, 59.
quickened by mobility of body
61.
' Mind-stuff,' 19, 55.
Miser, 192.
Modes of Attributes, 15 et seq., 33.
Molecular mechanics, 21.
Money, use and abuse of, 179.
Monotheism, dangers of, 69, 131.
why prolific in saints, 248.
Moral incentives and deterrents, 45 n. ,
91 n.
Morality, evolved out of finite rela
tions, 157 n., 234.
— not weakened by Spinoza, 49,
89, 156 n.
in what sense eternal, 156 n.
Mountain mass, illustration from, 31.
Music of the spheres, 47.
Natura Naturans, 36-7.
Naturata, 36-7.
Natural selection, 132.
Nature, imperfections alleged in, 48,
129 et seq., 162.
critics of, 84, 87.
— no vice in, 88.
— state of, 154, 156-7.
' OBJECT,' Spinoza's use of, 54.
implies subject, 21-2.
Origin, meaning of, 52.
Over-estimation; 117.
PAIN, 135.
Parmenides, 86.
Passions, apparently active but really
passive, 184.
compulsory abstinence does not
exorcise, 124.
general nature of, 125.
INDEX
263
Passions, how controlled and cast out,
188-9, 191.
reduced by clear ideas, 192.
Passivity, 140.
Paul, St., 69, 70 n., 183, 195, 223.
on Freedom anticipates Spinoza,
184.
but not on eternal life, 231.
Peace, perfect, 219, 224.
Penitence, 160.
Perfection, 128-9, 132, 136, 138,
229.
Persistence of impressions, 62.
removed by stronger impres
sions, 62.
Personality, 29, 30.
Pessimism and supernaturalism, 70.
Piety denned, 154.
Pineal gland, 181 n.
Pity, dangers of, 159-60.
Pollock, Sir Frederick, 26-8 n., 30,
53, 74, 236, 238 n.
Poor, properly the care of the State,
175-6.
Praise, ethical use of, 45 n.
Pride, 119, 161.
Prophets, as practical moralists, 161.
Protozoa, 57-8.
Providence, 44.
Purpose, as modus cogitandi, 132.
Pusillanimity. 162.
REACTION, religious, 248.
Reality, 14 ; degrees of, 126, 133.
Reason, nature of, 164.
the practical, 146-7, 153.
and virtue, 150, 154.
as loyalty to the best, 153-4.
triumph of, 180.
Reasoned experience, 65.
Reformation, Protestant, 146.
Relativity of morals, 40, 45.
Religion denned, 154.
future of, 241 et seq.
mercenary, 232.
Religious conviction, moral influence
of, 62.
Repentance, 118, 161.
Reproach, not useless, 45 n.
Republic of Man, 145.
SALVATION, plan of, 185 et seq.
Satan, Milton's, 210.
Scepticism, 47.
Schwarmerei, 117.
Science not irreligious, 45.
— mysticism of, 214, 241.
points to no finality, 245.
Self-conceit, 159.
Self-contempt, 159.
Self-depreciation, 120, 161.
— akin to pride, 176.
Self-preservation, 97, 138, 141, 147-9,
173.
right of society to, 156.
Self-satisfaction, 118.
Seneca, 149.
Sentiment, dangers of, 160.
Sequence, invariable, 193.
not fatalism, 194-5, 255.
moral use of, 195.
not inconsistent with moral influ
ence, 196.
mediates between eternity and
time, 239.
Shakespeare, 184, 187.
Shame, 120.
Sin, 45.
Social order, bond of, 81, 155.
life essential to man, 148, 169,
173, 174, 175.
Socrates, 94, 139, 230.
Sorrow. See Grief.
Soul, 52.
Sound, 16.
Species, 51.
Spencer, Herbert, 8, 9, 11, 24, 59, 61,
74.
Spinoza, his experience, 135, 143,
208-9.
how far Agnostic, 67.
influenced by Descartes, 17.
— not a 'fatalist,' 194-5.
not founder of a sect, 205.
not 'materialist,' 14, 215.
Spontaneity, 90, 181-2.
264
ETHICS OF SPINOZA
Substance, 8, 10, 12.
Succession, a necessary illusion, 217.
Suffering, use of, 136, 143.
Suicide, 147.
TENNYSON, 16 n., 33, 55, 79, 182, 197,
218.
Tertullian, 214.
Thankfulness, 122.
Thing in itself, 24.
Thought, as Attribute, 17 et seq.
Time. See Eternity.
Timidity, 123.
Tolerance, 81.
' Transcendency. ' See God.
Truth, absolute and relative, 31.
but not two sorts, 189.
and bias, 203.
and falsehood, 71.
— clear consciousness of, 73-4.
Types in Nature and Art, 129.
UGLINESS, 47.
Unity, ultimate, 60.
Universe. See God.
Universe, perfection of, 43.
self- awareness of, 21.
under aspect of eternit ', 78.
Unknowable, the, 8, 9, 11, *2, 59-60.
VACILLATION, 100.
Vainglory, 163.
Vengeance, 122.
Verification, test of reality, 14.
Virtue and power, 139.
— not mercenary, 81, 149, 232, 235.
Vortex theory of Matter, 243.
WEIGHT, 16.
Wesley, 214.
Will, 73, 79-80, 97.
as affirmation, 80.
See also Freedom.
'Will to believe, '204, 247.
Witchcraft, 66.
Worship, primitive purpose of, 41.
XENOPHANES, 86.
YEARNING, 121.
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