Series of /Ifcooern jpbilosopbers.
Edited by . Hershey Sneatk, Ph.D.
DESCARTES by PKOF. H. A. P. TORREY of the
University of Vermont.*
SPINOZA by PROF. GEO. S. FULLERTON of the
University of Pennsylvania.*
LOCKE by PROF. JOHN E. RUSSELL of Williams
College.*
HUME by PROF. H. AUSTIN AIKINS of Trinity
College, N. C*
REID by E. HERSHEY SNEATH of Yale Uni-
versity.*
KANT by PROF. JOHN WATSON of Queen's
University, Canada.*
HEGEL by PROF. JOSIAH ROYCE of Harvard
University.
* Those marked with an asterisk are ready.
HENRY HOLT & CO., PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK.
Series of flDooern pbilosopbers
Edited by E. Hershey Sneath, Ph. D.
THE
\PHILOSOPHYOF DESCARTESf
IN
EXTRACTS FROM HIS WRITINGS
SELECTED AND TRANSLA TED
BY
HENRY A. P. TORREY, A. M.
Marsh Professor of Philosophy in the University of Vermont
NEW YORK:
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1892
COPYRIGHT, 1892,
BY
HENRY HOLT & CO.
THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,
RAHWAY, N. J.
PREFACE.
THE following translations from the philosophical
writings of Descartes are made, with one exception,
from the French text of Cousin's edition of the col-
lected works in eleven volumes. The extracts from
the " Principles" are translated from the Latin text
of an Elzevir edition of the Opera PJiUosophica, Amst.,
1677. No selections have been made from the mathe-
matical writings, as not coming within the scope of
the series. For the same reason, as well as for want
of space, the more specifically physical views of Des-
cartes are not fully represented. Much, perhaps, will
be missed, but, on the other hand, portions of writings
which, to the translator's knowledge, have not hither-
to appeared in English, have been introduced. It is
perhaps unnecessary to add that in making his selec-
tions the translator has derived much aid from the
great historians of philosophy, particularly, Kuno
Fischer, Erdmann, and Ueberweg, and from the recent
treatise of Liard. In the revision of certain portions
of the work, Professor Veitch's version has been con-
sulted with advantage.
Hi
CONTENTS.
PAGE
BIBLIOGRAPHY ........................................ v
LIFE AND WRITINGS ................................... i
THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES AND ITS INFLUENCE ...... 15
SELECTIONS FROM DESCARTES' WRITINGS ARRANGED IN
PARTS .......................................... 37-345
Part First. METHOD ............................. 37-104
The Discourse Upon Method. Parts I, II, III ...... 37
Rules for the Direction of the Mind ................ 61
Fart S^wa'. METAPHYSICS. . . .................... 107-204
Meditations on the First Philosophy ................ 107
Principles of Philosophy, Part I ......... .......... 191
Part Third. PHYSICS ............................. 207-272
The World, or Essay Upon Light ................... 207
Part Fourth. PHYSIOLOGY ......................... 275-287
The Tract on Man .............................. 275
Automatism of Brutes ............................ 281
Pa >-t Fifth. PSYCHOLOGY ......................... 291-326
The Passions of the Soul ......................... , 291
Part Sixth .ETHICS .............................. 329-345
On the Happy Life .............................. 329
On the Summum Bonum .......................... 342
INDEX ............................................... 347
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
I. Works of Descartes published during his lifetime.
1. ssais philosophiques, which consisted of Dis-
cours de la Methode pour bien c.onduire sa raison, et
chercherla verite dans les sciences; plus la Dioptrique,
les MMores, et la Geometric, qui sont des essais de
cette Methode. Leyde, 1637. Published anonymously.
R. Cartesii Specimina Philosophies sive dissertatio de
methodo recte regendse rationis, Dioptrice et meteora
ex gallico latine versa (par Etienne de Courcelles) et
ab autero emendata. Amst., Elzev., 1644.
Geometria a R. Descartes, gallice edita, cum notis
Florim. de Beaune, latine versa et commentariis illus-
trata a Fr. a Schooten. Lugd. Bat. J. Maire, 1649.
2. Renati Descartes Meditationes de prima philoso-
phia, ubi de Dei existentia et animae immortalitate ;
his adjunctae sunt variae objectiones doctorum vi-
rorum in istas de Deo et anima demonstrationes, cum
responsionibus auctoris. Paris, 1641.
Second edition of the same, with changed title and
Bourdin's objections with replies added, published
under the author's superintendence. Amst., Elzev.,
1642.
French version of Meditationes by the Due de
Luynes; of the Objectiones et Responsiones'by Clerselier;
the whole revised by the author. Paris, 1647.
3. Renati Descartes Principia Philosophic. Amst.,
Elzev., 1644.
Principes de la Philosophic ecrits en latin par Rene*
Descartes, et traduits en francais par un de ses amis
[the Abbe Picot]. Paris, 1647.
4. Epistola Renati Descartes ad celeberrimum virum
Gisbertum Voetium, in quaexaminantur duolibri nuper
pro Voe'tio Ultrajecti simul editi : unus de confrater-
Vlll BIBLIOGRAPHY.
nitate Mariana, alter de philosophia Cartesiana. Amst.,
Elzev., 1643.
5. ft. Descartes nota in programma quoddam sub
finem anni 1647 in Belgio editum cum hoc titulo : ex-
plicatio mentis humanse sive animae rationalis, ubi
explicatur, quid sit et quid esse possit. Amst., Elzev.,
1648. These "note" appear in the " Lettres,"
CEuvres (Cousin), t. 10, p. 70. A Monsieur ....
[Regius] Remarques de Rene* Descartes surun certain
placard imprime" aux Pays-Bas vers la fin de I'anne'e
1647.
6. Les passions de rdme. Amst., Elzev., 1650.
II. Posthumous works.
1. Edited by Clerselier.
1. Le monde, ou traite de la lumiere. Paris,
1677. (First published [not by Clerselier]
in 1664.)
2. Traite defhomme. Paris, 1646. De la for-
mation du foetus, published in connection with
the preceding.
3. Les lettres de Rene Descartes, 3 vols. Paris,
1657-1667.
2. Not edited by Clerselier.
1. Opera postuma Cartesii, Amst., 1701, con-
taining, with others, two works published for
the first time, viz.: Regnlce ad directionem
ingenii. {Regies pour la direction de I' esprit,
CEuvres [Cousin ed.] t. u, pp. 201-329),
and Inquisitio veritatis per lumen naturale
(Recherche de la verite par les lumieres
naturelles, CEuvres [Cousin], t. u, pp. 333-
376).
2. Compendium musica, Utrecht, 1650.
3. Traite 1 de la m/canique compost par M. Des-
cartes, de plus 1'abre'ge' de la musique du
meme auteur, mis en francais N.
Poisson, Paris, 1668.
III. Collected works.
i. Opera philosophica. Elzevir, Amst., 1644 (Editio
tertia, 1656), 1670, 1672, 1674, 1677.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. IX
2. Opera omnia, ist ed. 8 vols. 1670-83. ad ed. 9
vols. 1692-1701 and 1713. Elzevir, Amst. See
Brunei.
3. Opera omnia. Frankfort, 7 vols. in 410, 1697.
See Bouillier, t. i, p. 36.
4. CEuvres de Descartes, Paris, 1724, 13 vols. in
i2mo. " Fort incomplete." Bouillier.
5. CEuvres de Descartes, publie"es par Victor Cousin,
ii vols. in 8vo. Paris, 1824-26. (The most nearly
complete edition.)
6. CEuvres philosophiques, Gamier, 4 vols. in 8vo.
Paris, 1835.
7. CEuvres inedites de Descartes. Foucher de Careil,
Paris, 1859-60.
8. CEuvres de Descartes, nouvelle Edition prece'de'e
d'une introduction par Jules Simon. Paris, 1868.
[The above titles have been collected mainly from
the bibliographical notices of Kuno Fischer (Descartes
and his School, p. 298, trans.) ; Ueberweg (Hist, of
Philos., Vol. ii, p. 42, trans.); Bouillier (Hist, de la
Philos. Carte"sienne, t. i, p. 36), and Brunet (Manuel du
Libraire).
For an interesting account of the lost writings see
Kuno Fischer, Descartes, p. 300.]
WORKS RELATING TO DESCARTES.
1. Renati Descartes Principia Philosophica more
geometrico demonstrata per Benedictum de Spinoza.
Amst. 1663.
This volume contained as an appendix his Cogitata
Metaphysica, the earliest published work of Spinoza.
2. Censura philosophies Cartesiance, Paris, 1689,
and Nouveaux Mtmoires pour servir a I'histoire du
Carttsianisme, Paris, 1692, both by (Bishop) Daniel
Huet.
3. Voyage du Monde de Descartes, par P. G. Daniel.
Paris, 1691.
The same, Iter per Mundtim Cartesii. Amst, 1694.
Containing also, Novae Difficultates a Peripateticopro-
positx, etc.
X BIBLIOGRAPHY.
4. Dictionnaire historique et critique, Pierre Bayle.
1695-97, 1702, 2 vols. 1740, 4 vols. Engl. trans.
London, 1736.
5. Le Carte"sianisme, ou la veritable renovation des
sciences. Bordas-Demoulin. Paris, 1843.
6. Fragments de Philosophic Cartesienne: Fragments
dePhilosophieModerne, par V. Cousin. Paris, 1852 and
1854.
7. Histoire de la Philosophic Carte"sienne, par F.Bouil-
lier. 2 vols., Paris, 1854. (The principal authority on
the subject.)
8. Descartes, ses Pre'curseurs et ses Disciples, par
E. Saisset. Paris, 1865.
9. Descartes, par L. Liard. Paris, 1882. (A re-
markably fresh and interesting presentation of the
speculations of Descartes in the light of contempo-
rary science and philosophy.)
10. Descartes (in Blackwood's Philosophical Clas-
sics), by J. P. Mahaffy. Edin. and Phila., 1881.
11. Commentaire sur les Meditations de Descartes,
Par Maine de Biran (Found in Bertrand's Science et
Psycologie : nouvelles ceuvres intdites de De Biran.
Paris, 1887). See Mind, vol. 12, p. 625.
12. 77/i? Fundamental Doctrines of Descartes. By
H. Sedgwick (in Mind, vol. 7, pp. 435, seq.)
13. The Method, Meditations and Selections from the
Principles of Descartes, translated from the original
texts, with introductory essay, historical and critical,
by J. Veitch. Edin. and Lond. (ist ed. 1850-52),
Tenth edition, 1890.
(" The extracts from the Principles correspond to
what is found in the edition of Gamier." Two earlier,
now rare, English versions are mentioned by the
author: The Method, Lond., 1649; The Meditations,
\V. Molyneux, Lond., 1680. See preface.)
14. A translation of the Meditations appeared in
the Journal of Speculative Philosophy, vol. 4, 1870,
and of the introduction to the Meditations, in the
same Journal, vol. 5, April, 1871, both by Wm. R.
Walker.
Among the historians of philosophy who have
BIBLIOGRAPHY. Xt
treated of Descartes at length should be mentioned
especially :
Kuno Fischer : Geschichte der neuern Philosophic.
Mannheim, 1854, seq. New editions of the earlier
volumes have since appeared. The third and revised
edition of the first volume, containing Descartes,
has recently been translated into English by J. P.
Gordy, Ph. D., under the title, History of Modern
Philosophy, by Kuno Fischer, Descartes and his
school. New York, 1887. Kuno Fischer also has trans-
lated into German the principal philosophical works
of Descartes. Mannheim, 1863.
Titles of numerous essays on Descartes, mostly
German, maybe found in Ueberweg's full bibliography
(Hist, of Philos., vol. ii, p. 43, trans.). In addition
may be mentioned the following recent mono-
graphs :
P. J. Schmid : Die Prinzipien der menschlichen
Erkenntniss nach Descartes. (Promotionsschrift),
Leipzig.
Hartmann: Die Lehredes Cartcsius De Passionibus
Animce nnd des Spinoza De Affectibus Humanis darge-
stellt und verglichen. W. Ohlan, 1878.
B. Gutzeit: Descartes' angeborene Ideen verglichen
mit Kant's Anschamuigs-und-Denkformen a priori.
Bromberg, 1883.
B. Trognitz : Die mathematische Methode in Des-
cartes' philosophischem Systeme. Saalfeld, 1887.
P. Plessner : Die LeJire von den Leidenschaften bei
Descartes. (Inaugural Dissertation.) Leipzig, 1888.
Wm. Wallace : Article on Descartes in the Encyclo-
pedia Britannica. Ninth edition.
Neuf lettres ine'dites a Mersenne. See notice in
Mind, Oct. 1891 (vol. 16, p. 555).
WORKS ON THE LIFE OF DESCARTES.
Descartes : Discours sur la Methode.
A. Baillet: La vie de Mr. des Cartes. Paris, 1691,
abridged, 1693.
Thomas: Eloge de Rene Descartes. Paris, 1765 (Dis-
XU BIBLIOGRAPHY.
cours qui a remporte le prix de I' Academic francaise
en 1765). Especially the Notes to the above.
J. Millet : Histoirt de Descartes avant 1637 (Paris,
1867), depuis 1637 (Paris, 1870).
Kuno Fischer: Hist, of Mod. Philos., Descartes and
his school (trans.), pp. 165-297.
J. P. Mahaffy: Descartes, pp. 7-143.
C. G. J. Jacobi : Ueber Descartes' Leben. Berlin,
1846.
LIFE AND WRITINGS.
RENE DESCARTES (De Quartis)* was born March
30, 1596, at La Haye, in the province of Tou-
raine. His father, Joachim Descartes, was a coun-
cilor of the parliament of Bretagne. His mother,
Jeanne Brochard, was the daughter of a lieu-
tenant-general of Poitiers. She was of a delicate
constitution, and transmitted to Rene, her third and
last child, the germs of consumption, of which disease
she died a few days after his birth. Like Newton,
the feeble boy seemed destined to an early grave,
but careful nursing saved him. The wise father
would not suffer the eager mind in the frail body to
be overtaxed. Allowed to carry on his studies, but
only as play, the reflective turn of the boy's mind
asserted itself in constant inquiries into the causes
of things, and before he was eight years old his
father began to call him his " little philosopher."
In 1604 Rene was sent to the college of La Fleche,
in Anjou, recently established by Henry IV. in the
royal palace, under the care of the Jesuits, and
designed to be the foremost school for the education
of the nobility. The impression made upon the young
mind of the philosopher by the studies there pursued
is vividly conveyed in his own words in his Discourse
on Method. He finished his course at La Fleche in
* Thomas, Notes sur FEloge. (Euvres de Descartes (Cousin), t.
i, p. 81.
2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
1612, when he was sixteen years of age. Among his
schoolmates one, eight years older than himself, Marin
Mersenne, was destined to be his lifelong friend.
The point of chief interest is this : the mind which
was to lay the foundation for modern philosophy there
became interested, not in learning merely, but in
knowledge, in the nature of knowledge itself, and in
what can be clearly and distinctly known, as dis-
tinguished from what is obscure and confused. Hence
the fascination of mathematics.
In the year 1613 his father sent young Rene to
Paris to see life. For two years he spent most of his
time in amusements, then for two years more shut
himself up in seclusion and pursued his studies. At
last, weary of the city and convinced that he would
learn more by mingling with the world at large, in
1617, at the age of twenty-one, he enlisted as a volun-
teer in the army of the Netherlands. He joined the
garrison in Breda, under the Prince Maurice of Nas-
sau. During two years' stay there, while an armistice
prevailed, he found leisure to cultivate mathematics,
and made the acquaintance of a celebrated mathema-
tician, Beeckman, for whom he wrote his Compen-
dium Musicce, the earliest of his works now extant.
From the army of the Netherlands he went to Bavaria
and enlisted in the service of Maximilian at the begin-
ning of the Thirty Years' War, and afterward in that
of the Emperor Ferdinand II. He took part in sev-
eral campaigns in Bohemia and Hungary, but finally
quitted the service and ended his military life soon
after the battle of Neuhasel, in July, 1621. He was
then twenty-five years of age. Intervals of peace
favored the philosopher during his career as a soldier.
Diplomatic negotiations interrupted the movements
LIFE AND WRITINGS. 3
of the Bavarian army, they went into winter quar-
ters, and Descartes was stationed at Neuburg, on the
Danube, during the winter of 1619-20. During that
period, left undisturbed to his reflections, he made a
memorable discovery.* It produced so profound an
impression upon his mind that he put down in his diary
the exact date. " On the tenth of November I began
to make a wonderful discovery. "f It was probably
" his first glimpse of the principles of the fundamental
science, or mathesis universalis" \ to the development
of which he thereafter devoted his life. He saw the
possibility of solving geometrical problems by algebra,
and laid the foundations of analytical geometry. But
the inventum mirabile meant for Descartes a great
deal more than this. He thought he had discovered
the key to unlock all the mysteries of nature. He
thought that by considering all physical change as
matter in motion he could subject the whole realm of
nature to mathematical demonstration. But his
thought went even further than this. He conceived
mathematical knowledge as the type of all knowledge.
Its criterion of certainty, clear and distinct intuition,
its analytical method, he would apply to the cogni-
* See Discourse on Method, part ii .
f " Intelligere coepi fundamentum invent! mirabilis." Kuno
Fischer's Descartes, trans., p. 194.
\ Erdmann, Hist, of Philos. Modern, trans., p. 9.
" In the words of his epitaph, written by his intimate friend
Chanut, with whom he had often talked over his mental history :
' In his winter furlough, comparing the mysteries of nature with
the laws of mathematics, he dared to hope that the secrets of both
could be unlocked by the same key.' In otiis hibernis Naturrc
mysteria componens cum legibus Matheseos, utriusque arcana
eadem clave reserari posse ausus est sperare." Mahaffy's Des-
cartes, p. 27.
4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
tion of every branch of human inquiry. He would
thus lay new foundations for philosophy. After quit-
ting the army Descartes spent the next five years
mostly in travel, then for three years he lived in se-
clusion in the suburbs of Paris. It was probably dur-
ing these years that he wrote out the first sketch of
his doctrine of method, The Rules for the Direction
of the Mind {Regula ad Directionem Ingenii).
In 1629, at the age of thirty-three, the philosopher
sought and found a country and a mode of life most
favorable to the prosecution of his design.* Acting
upon the maxim, Bene vixit, bene qui latuit, he went
secretly to Holland, where in a favorable climate he
enjoyed during twenty years the desired seclusion,
and there produced that series of remarkable works
which gave a new direction to speculative thought
and laid the basis of modern philosophy.
The philosophical works of Descartes appeared in
the following order. The Discourse upon Method was
the first. It was published anonymously at Leyden,
June 8, 1637, in connection with the Dioptric, the Me-
teors, and the Geometry. The volume was entitled :
" Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting the
Reason, and Seeking Truth in the Sciences, also the
Dioptric, the Meteors, and the Geometry, which are
essays in this Method." The whole work was known
also as " The Philosophical Essays." " Written,"
says Mahaffy,f <l in the popular tongue of Europe, and
with a clearness and simplicity rarely equaled even in
* " I desire quiet. I have guided my life thus far according to
the motto Bene vixit, bene qui latuit, and I intend to continue to
do so." Letter to Mersenne, January 10, 1634, (Euvres, t. vi, p.
243-
f Descartes, p. 70.
LIFE AND WRITINGS. 5
French prose the best prose in modern Europe it
[the Discourse of Method] produced an electric shock
throughout the learned world, which no other work
of the kind ever did in the history of philosophy."
Descartes himself thus justifies his use of his native
tongue rather than Latin, the tongue of the learned,
as a vehicle for his scientific thought. " And if I
write in French, which is my vernacular, rather than in
Latin, the language of my teachers, the reason is that
I believe that those who make use of their simple
natural reason will be better judges of my opinions
than those who believe only in the ancient books ;
and as for those who combine good sense with learn-
ing, whom alone I desire for my judges, they will not,
I am sure, be so partial to the Latin as to refuse to
attend to my arguments because I present them in
the vulgar tongue." *
In explanation of the title of the work, Descartes,
writing to his friend Mersenne, says, " I do not call
it Treatise upon method, but Discourse upon method,
which is the same as Preface or Announcement of the
method, to show that I have no intention of unfolding
it, but only of talking about it ; for, as may be seen
from what I say of it, it consists rather in practice than
in theory ; and I call the treatises which follow essays
in this method, because I contend that the things they
contain could not have been discovered without it,
and one may learn from them the value of it. As also
I have inserted in the first discourse something in
metaphysics, in physics, and in medicine, to show that
it applies to all sorts of matters." f In a letter to a
friend of Mersenne, he says further, " I think I have
* Discours de la Mtthode, p. 6, ad fin. (Ettvres, t. i, p. 210.
t Let (res, CEuvres, t. vi, p. 138.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
shown that I employ a method by which I might ex-
plain equally well any other matter, provided I could
make the necessary experiments and had the time to
consider them."* Regarding the Method of Des-
cartes, Saisset has very well said : " It ought not to be
forgotten that in publishing the Method, Descartes
joined to it, as a supplement, the Dioptrics, the Geom-
etry, and the Meteors. Thus at one stroke he founded,
on the basis of a new method, two sciences hitherto
almost unknown and of infinite importance Mathe-
matical Physics and the application of Algebra to Ge-
ometry ; and at the same time he gave the prelude
to the Meditations and the Principles that is to say,
to an original Metaphysic, and the mechanical theory
of the universe." f
Next appeared, in 1641, his most important work,
the Meditations. It was published first at Paris with
the title, " Meditationes de prima philosophia, ubi de Dei
existentia et animcz immortalitate" A second edition
was published in Amsterdam by Elzevir in 1642, with
the title somewhat changed, " Meditationes de prima
philosophia, in quibus Dei existentia ct ammo, humancs
a corpore distinctio demonstrantur." J The Medita-
tions are six in number, with the following titles : The
First ; of the Things which may be Doubted. The
Second ; of the Nature of the Human Mind ; and that
it is more easily known than the Body. The Third ;
of God ; that He exists. The Fourth ; of Truth and
Error. The Fifth ; of the Essence of Material
Things, and, for the second time, of the Existence
of God. The Sixth; of the Existence of Material
* Lettres, (Euvres, t. vi, p. 306.
f Veitch, Descartes, Introd., p. xii.
\. See K. Fischer, Descartes, p. 247.
LIFE AND WRITINGS. 7
Things, and of the Real Distinction between the
Soul and the Body of Man. In a somewhat unique
way the writer endeavored to forestall criticism. Be-
fore the work was printed, he sent copies of it
in manuscript, through Mersenne and other friends, to
several of the most learned men of the time, soliciting
their objections. Seven sets of objections were thus
collected, to all of which Descartes made elaborate re-
plies. These objections, with the replies, were added
to the work, which was then published. The first set
of objections were those offered by a certain Caterus,
a Catholic theologian of Louvain, and relate principally
to the proof of the Divine existence ; the second and
sixth are reports of objections collected by Mersenne
from various persons, and concern the question of the
immortality of the soul and the logical defects in the
arguments ; the third are from the English philosopher
Thomas Hobbes, who objects, among other things, to
clear conception being made the test of truth ; the
fourth were those of Antoine Arnauld, the celebrated
Jansenistof Port Royal, who questions Descartes' orig-
inality in respect to his Cogito, ergo sum, finds the dis-
tinction between soul and body too sharply drawn,
detects a logical circle in the attempt to prove the
divine existence by the clearness of the idea of God,
and the reality of what we clearly conceive by
the Divine veracity, and also finds difficulty in har-
monizing Descartes' view of substance and accident
with the doctrine of Transubstantiation. The fifth
set of objections were those of the French philosopher,
Pierre Gassendi, who, from a materialistic point of view
attacked the idealism of the new philosophy. To
these six series of objections, published with Des-
cartes' replies in the first edition of the Meditations,
8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
there were added, in the second edition, those
of the Jesuit Father Bourdin, a scholastic theologian
who sought to overthrow the new doctrine by attack-
ing the method itself ; of greater importance were the
criticisms of the writer who styles himself Hype rasp is-
tes, and of Henry More, the Cambridge Platonist,
whose objections were not embodied in the work, but
were published, with Descartes' replies, among his let-
ters of the years 1640 and 1648.*
The Meditations, originally written in Latin, were
translated into French by the Due de Luynes, and
the seven sets of objections and replies by Clerselier.
Descartes revised the translations and changed some
passages in the Latin text.f The French version
was published in Paris, 1647.
The important treatise, The Principles of Philos-
ophy, followed. It was written in Latin. The first
edition, bearing the title, Renati Descartes \ principia
philosophic, was printed by the Elzevirs in Amster-
dam, 1644. The treatise has four parts : Part I, Of
the Principles of Human Knowledge. Part II, Of the
Principles of Material Things. Part III, Of the Visi-
ble World. Part IV, Of the Earth. The first part is
a repetition, with slight additions, of the thoughts con-
tained in the Meditations. The manner of the whole
work is dry and scholastic, as compared with the free
and flowing style of his other writings, but it was in-
tended to present in a more exact form a complete
summary of his system.
* (Euvres, t. viii, p. 242, t. x, p. 178.
f See K. Fischer, Descartes, p. 299. Professor Veitch has
collated the French in his translation, which is from the Latin
text.
\ He objected to the Latinizing of his name.
LIFE AND WRITINGS. 9
The remaining parts contain the substance of his
suppressed treatise, De Mundo (Le Monde, on TraitJ
de la Lumtire}. A French version was made by one
of Descartes' friends, the Abbe Picot. It was ap-
proved by the author, who says of it in a letter to the
Abbe", which is printed as a preface to the work :
" The version of my Principles which you have taken
the trouble to make is so elegant and so finished that
I am led to hope it will be read by more people in
French than in Latin, and that it will be better under-
stood."*
The last work of Descartes, published in the life-
time of the author, was the Treatise on the Passions
(Traiit des Passions de I'Ame). It was written in
French, for the Princess Elizabeth of the Palatinate,
in 1646, but not finished until 1649. At the solicita-
tions of his friends the treatise was published the fol-
lowing year, by the Elzevirs, at Amsterdam, by whom
also a Latin version was brought out shortly after
the author's death. The scope of the treatise is
indicated in these words: "My design has not been
to expound the passions as a preacher, nor even as a
moral philosopher, but solely as a natural philosopher
(en physiden),"\ He seeks to exhibit the passions as
due to the union of body and soul and as mental phe-
nomena resulting from the motions of the animal
spirits.
The motto, Bene vixit, bene qul latuit, which Des-
cartes had adopted for his life, whether dictated by
prudence or timidity, or both, is characteristic of the
man. He lived at a time when it was dangerous to
* (Euvrts, t. iii, p. 9.
f Re'ponst a la Se'conde Letter, Les Passions. (Eitvres, t. iv, p.
34-
10 THE PHILOSOPHY OP DESCARTES.
express new truth openly. He had to encounter, or
evade, the opposition of theologians, both Catholic
and Protestant. He chose, when it was possible, to
avoid a quarrel. He stood in fear of the Inquisition.
With the fate of Galileo before his eyes, he suppressed
his treatise De Mttndo. He thought it necessary to
do this, even although in that treatise he had presented
his views as a mere hypothesis of what would happen
in an imaginary world.
" But because I have endeavored to explain my
principal discoveries in a treatise which certain
considerations prevent me from publishing, 1 can-
not make them understood better than by giving
here a summary of its contents I designed
to comprehend in it all that I thought I knew,
before writing it, concerning the nature of material
things. But just as painters do, who cannot represent
on a flat surface equally well all the aspects of a solid
body, and therefore choose one of the more important,
which they set in full light, and the rest in shadow, so
I, fearing I could not get into my essay all I had in
my mind, undertook merely to set forth quite fully
what I thought about light ; then, as occasion was pre-
sented, to add something about the sun and the fixed
stars, because light proceeds almost wholly from them ;
of the heavens, because they transmit it ; of the
planets, the comets, and the earth, because they reflect
it ; and, in particular, of all bodies which are upon the
earth, because they are either colored or transparent
or luminous ; and, finally, of man, because he is the
spectator of all.
" But, in order to put all these things a little into the
shade, and to be able to say more freely what I thought
LIFE AND WRITINGS. II
about them, without being obliged either to accept or
to reject the opinion received among the learned, I
resolved to leave this whole present world to their dis-
putes, and to talk only of what might happen in a new
one, if God should create, somewhere in imaginary
space, enough matter to compose it, and should set
in motion in various ways and without order the
different parts of this matter, so that it should form
a chaos as confused as ever poets could feign, and
thereafter affording it no more than his ordinary assist-
ance to nature, leave it to act according to the laws
which he has established." *
But the philosopher soon discovered that to present
his views even under the guise of a mere hypothesis
would not afford him sufficient shelter. The doctrine
of the earth's motion, a necessary part of his theory,
was not tolerated at Rome, even as an hypothesis.
The sentence of condemnation against Galileo, who
defended the Copernican theory, contained these
words : " quamvis hypothetice a se illam proponi simu-
laret." Writing to his friend Mersenne in November,
1633, Descartes says : "I have just been inquiring at
Leyden and at Amsterdam whether Galileo's System
of the World was not there, for it seemed to me I had
heard that it had been printed in Italy the past year.
They told me that it was true that it had been printed,
but that all the copies of it were immediately burned
at Rome, and that he had been sentenced to do
penance ; which made so deep an impression upon me
that I almost resolved to burn all my papers, or at
least to let no one see them And I confess
that if it [the theory of the earth's motion] is false,
all the principles of my philosophy are also false, for
* Discours. pt. v. (Euvres, t. i, p. 168.
12 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
it is clearly demonstrated by them, and it is so
bound up with every part of my treatise that I could
not detach it from them without making the rest
defective. But as I would not for all the world
there should go forth from me an essay wherein
there should be found the least 'word which would
be disapproved by the Church, I prefer to suppress
it rather than let it appear in a mutilated condition." *
Probably only a fragment of the whole work ever
saw the light. This was published by Clerselier
in correct form, in 1677, entitled, Le Monde, ou Traitt
de la Lumtire.
But our philosopher was not destined to end his
days in Holland. The latter part of his life there was
greatly embittered by controversy, particularly with
a Protestant theologian, Voe't, who had become rector
of the University of Utrecht, and who had accused
Descartes of atheism. In a letter to his friend
Chanut, November r, 1646, he complains : "A father
(Bourdin) thought he had sufficient ground for ac-
cusing me of being a skeptic, because I have refuted
the skeptics, and a clergyman (Voetius) has under-
taken to make out that I am an atheist, alleging no
other reason except that I have tried to prove the
existence of God." f After four years of persistent
attack upon the new philosophy, Voe't secured a judg-
ment of condemnation on the part of the University,
and finally, the matter going the length of libel, the
magistrates of Utrecht took it up and settled it by
prohibiting publications for or against Descartes. In
the University of Leyden, also, a kind of interdict was
placed on the writings of the philosopher. Annoyed
* CEuvres, t. vi, p. 238.
f (Euvres, t. ix, p. 416.
LIFE AND WRITINGS. 13
and disturbed by frequent and unreasonable opposi-
tion, he thought Holland no longer safe, and made up
his mind to return to his own country. Not long
after he received from the Queen of Sweden an in-
vitation to visit Stockholm. Queen Christina had
become interested in the philosophy of Descartes,
through his personal friend Chanut, who was then
French ambassador at the court of Sweden. The
queen desired to meet the philosopher and to hear
from his own lips an exposition of his system. Ac-
cordingly, though greatly dreading the long journey,
the strange country, and the severe winter, he set out
for Stockholm, where he arrived early in October,
1649, and took up his lodgings under the friendly
roof of Chanut, and in November began to instruct
the queen in philosophy. But the requirements of
royalty did not suit the habits of the philosopher.
Since the early days at the college of La Fleche, Des-
cartes had been accustomed to lie in bed until the
middle of the forenoon. The practice, at first per-
mitted to favor a feeble child, was kept up in after
years, because conducive to undisturbed reflection.
It was most convenient, however, to his royal pupil to
meet her instructor when her mind was freshest and
when no cares of state would interrupt her lesson.
Accordingly Descartes was obliged to go to the pal-
ace every morning at five o'clock. The winter was un-
usually severe, and the frail constitution of the phi-
losopher succumbed to it. He died of inflammation
of the lungs, February n, 1650, before he had com-
pleted his fifty-fourth year. The queen, in her grief,
would have buried him among kings and raised a
mausoleum for him. But Chanut prevailed on her to
allow the remains to be placed in the Catholic ceme-
14 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
tery with simple rites. " A priest, some torches, and
four persons of distinction who stood at the head and
foot of the coffin such was the funeral of Descartes.
M. de Chanut, in honor of the memory of his friend
and of a great man, raised over his grave a square pyra-
mid with inscriptions. Holland, where he had been
persecuted during his life, caused a medal to be struck
in his honor when he was dead. Sixteen years after
that is to say in 1666 his remains were transported
to France, and deposited in the church of Ste. Gene-
vieve. On the 24th of June, 1667, a solemn service
was performed for him with the greatest magnificence.
After the service a funeral oration was to have been
delivered, but there came an express order from the
court forbidding it."* His name had stood for some
years upon the Index.
* Thomas, Notes sur l'loge. (Euvres, t. i, p. 116.
-THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES
AND ITS INFLUENCE.
THE thinking of Descartes, by general consent,
marks the beginning of modern speculative philosophy.
If originality be a test of intellectual greatness, there
are but few thinkers in ancient or modern times who
can be placed alongside of this remarkable man. The
seclusion in which Descartes sought steadfastly to
spend his days was merely intended to promote the
deeper seclusion of his intellectual life. He desired a
first free look at the world, without and within, unin-
fluenced by the present, untrammeled by the past.
Of course it was a vain desire. From the past came
down to him the problems which still awaited solution,
and the particular form in which they presented them-
selves was determined by the times in which he lived.
The very discipline in the course of which he became
aware of them, and by which his mind was prepared to
deal with them, precluded a purely individual result,
nor would such a result, if attainable, have been of
great value. Pure, absolute originality in thought is
no more possible than abstract individuality of exist-
ence. What Descartes says of himself was therefore
not quite true, that had his father given him no educa-
tion, he should have written the same works, only he
should have written all in French. It is safe to say
that, but for that scholastic training, he would have
written nothing of account, and his name would not
l6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
have survived the century in which he lived. For the
studies which absorbed his eager mind at the college
of La Fleche brought to his attention the deepest prob-
lems of existence and determined him to that lonely
career the single object of which was to solve them.
And with such originality and independence as is
compatible with that organic connection with other
minds, whereby the thought of all becomes the thought
of each, the solitary thinker addressed himself to his
task, and the sustained effort of more than twenty
years, with scarcely a break, marks the strength of the
original impulse. Much of his thinking, after two
centuries and a half of scientific progress, has now be-
come obsolete ; much still remains an imperishable
addition to the sum of human philosophy.
Let us attempt a somewhat free reproduction of his
thought. In the endeavor to arrive at a true conception
of the philosophical system of Descartes, the fact of his
early predilection for mathematics must not be over-
looked. The influence of those youthful studies, in a
branch of knowledge to which he was himself destined
to make a very important addition, survived through
all, and determined his whole intellectual scheme.
" Chiefly I loved the mathematics ; I was surprised that
upon foundations so solid and stable no loftier structure
had been raised." The necessary sequence of intui-
tions in the demonstrations of geometry, wherein the
mind, starting from the simplest truths, arrives by such
successive intuitions at the knowledge of all that can be
known of the relations of figures in space, presented
itself to the mind of Descartes as the type of all
human knowledge whatever. He looked upon knowl-
edge as one interconnected whole, each special science
being a member of it, so related to all the rest that it
DESCARTES' PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 17
is easier to learn all than to learn any one detached
from the whole. Hence is suggested a sort of uni-
versal mathematics, or mathesis, which is Descartes'
Novum Organ um. This view of the nature of the ob-
ject and the process of human cognition is fully un-
folded in the early and little known " Rules for the
Direction of the Mind," a treatise of much greater im-
portance than the Discourse on Method for the right
comprehension of Descartes' theory of knowledge.*
The mathematical sciences furnished also a universal
rule of certainty. The mind of Descartes sought
clearness as the first requisite in all satisfactory think-
\ ing. Geometry affords clear conceptions. Indeed
that only which can be clearly and distinctly conceived
i is to be admitted as true in the mathematics gener-
ally.
This principle seemed to Descartes worthy to be
i made the universal rule for thought. " Only that
i not in mathematics alone, but everywhere which can
be clearly and distinctly conceived, is true." (Absence
of contradiction is the negative test of clearness,
hence the logical law of non-contradiction as the
reverse side of the principle.) But the principle it-
self, like the science of mathematics, from whence by
generalization it was derived, belongs only to the
sphere of abstract thought. It affords a criterion of
the true, but stands for no concrete reality. Philos-
ophy is the science of being ; Descartes, with his
mathematical rule of certainty, becomes interested in
philosophy. What he finds existing as such does not
satisfy him. He cannot " clearly and distinctly con-
ceive" it. He therefore rejects it all. He goes
further ; on reflection he finds that he has from child-
* See extract from Rule II, below, p. 63.
l8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
hood received into his mind innumerable beliefs
which will not stand the proposed test. They are
worthless to the thinker, who desires only absolute
truths perceived to be such. He will make a clean
sweep of them. He will begin his thinking all over
again, in the light of the new principle. He will
make a clear space and wait to see what will ap-
pear. But the space is not clear, nor can it be, for
he is himself there in the middle of it awaiting the dis-
closure ; but that is precisely what the disclosure is :
Je pense, done je suis. Myself the thinker am a
reality. My own existence in the act of thinking is as
clearly and distinctly known to me as any truth of
mathematics can be. This truth is itself a type of
certainty. Whatever hereafter, and only that which,
is as certainly and distinctly conceived by me as my
own being is, shall be admitted as real. Descartes'
thinking begins with abstract thought, mathematics ;
thence he derives his fundamental rule of certainty ;
but in the application of it he arrives at a concrete
truth, the being of the individual thinker. He
reaches thus a new starting-point, and one of cardinal
importance for all succeeding philosophy. Philo-
sophical speculation thereafter must turn on the ego,
which Descartes thus made the pivot of his own
thinking concerning real existence. But the self thus
discovered and inexpugnable, undeniably existent,
is only myself. Are there possibly other selves,
finite like me, an infinite Self also above all ? Des-
cartes soon satisfies himself of the necessary existence
of the latter, the original Self. But there is a little
preliminary parade of skeptical skill. How do I
know, after all, that in my clearest thought I am not
deceived ; might not some powerful being so control
DESCARTES' PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 19
^ my mental process as to make me take the false for
true ; well, even then, I should still be thinking,
though thinking I was deceived ; and if I was thinking
no matter what, I should be existing. But among
my_thoughts there is one which cannot have come'
from myself the thought of infinite perfection. I
am consciously finite, imperfect, yet this thought of
infinite perfection is undeniably within me ; according
to the principle De nihilo nihil it must have a cause.
There is no adequate cause for this thought but the
Keing^wHo~Ts^actually infinite in perfection such a
Being Then must have put this thought within me.
Such a Being must as certainly exist as I myself do,
from whom other and finite thoughts proceed. More-
over, as Augustine, and AnsHm have argued, the idea
of the Infinite Being is proof of the existence^oLsjicJLa
Being, for this i3ea~ contains exisience..as_a Jiecessary
predicate. Descartes makes use of the common
ontological arguments to support his own, while at
the same time he contends that his own is entirely
distinct. And indeed it is, in one form of it, that
where he employs the principle of causality, as above
indicated. The effect cannot transcend the cause ;
but if God jiid not exist, the presence^of the idea of
infinite perfection within a finite consciousness would
be inexplicable ; the effect would transcend the
cause. But such a Being cannot deceive. To im-
agine that he could do so would be to suppose some-
thing contradictory. Now the discovery of the
divine existence is one of the highest philosophical
importance, for it makes indubitable the rule of
certainty assumed at the outset, " whatever I clearly
and distinctly conceive is true." It cannot be that
~ He who is absolute truth and the source of my being
20 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
should have made me so that in obeying the laws of
my mind I should go astray.
Descartes has, as appears, three distinct principles
of certainty ; viz., i. Whatever is clearly and dis-
tinctly conceived is true, the type of which is mathe-
matical intuition ; 2. Whatever is known as clearly
and distinctly as my own being is real ; 3. The
Divine veracity. Which of these is fundamental to the
other two ? It is difficult to say. Apparently he re-
gards the last as the basis of all.*
In addition, it is to be observed, he employs the log-
ical principle of non-contradiction in connection with
his first rule, and the real principle of causality, in
establishing the being of God.
Assured of the existence of God as creator and pre-
server (and preservation, for him, is continued creation)
of his own finite existence, Descartes now inquires
whether there may not reasonably be supposed to exist
other finite beings like himself, as well as what in
general he has hitherto assumed to be an external world.
In regard to these he speedily assures himself that he
has not been deceived. The way is thus open to
determine the inner reality and the laws of the world
of nature and of spirit. The objects of our knowledge
are things, and their affections, and eternal truths, which
latter exist for thought only. Among the eternal
verities are to be reckoned the law of causality (ex
nihilo //'/), of non-contradiction, and the necessary
existence of the thinking self. Of things there are
two classes, minds and bodies ; more strictly, thinking
substances and extended substances, since thought is
the essence of mind, extension, of body. Substance
is that which so exists that it needs nothing else for its
* See close of Fifth Meditation.
DESCARTES PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 21
existence. Only one such substance can be conceived,
/. <?., God. But in a modified sense we may speak of
things created as substances, requiring the aid of God
(concur 'sus Dei) for their existence. Each form of
substance has its preeminent attribute from which all
others, its modes, derive ; viz., from thought, which is
the essence of mind, imagination, sensation, will ; from ,. _
extension, which is the essence of body, figure and
motion. Extension and thought, body and mind, are
mutually opposed and exclusive, each being substance,
or essential attribute of different substances. Thought
is purely internal, extension is wholly external. There
is no community or analogy between them. In man,
composed of body and mind, the two opposed sub-
stances are united as closely as possible, yet are wholly
distinct. The whole material world consists only of
J
extension and its modes, figure and motion. No atoms
exist, nor has the world limits. Matter, as extension,
has only the capacity of being formed and moved ; t
actual form and motion must come from another
source, viz., from the Being who is the ultimate ground ^
of extension. In the beginning God divided matter
into innumerable parts of various sizes and forms, and
set them moving in all directions, whence at last
arose the world. God had his own ends in view in
the formation of the world, but it is presumptuous for v ^
the human mind to try to discover them. Final causes
are excluded from philosophy.* The whole explanation
of the material world is mechanical and mathema-
tical. Matter in motion brings about everything.
The universe is absolutely full : there is no vacuum ;
hence, when once set in motion, the particles move
* Descartes, however, in his explanation of the body, makes use
of the principle of design.
22 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
in a circular manner, each pressing into the place
left by another. The vortices thus arising explain
the revolution of the planets and the gravitation of
bodies to their centers. Light and heat are explained
by the vibratory movement of the most subtle form of
matter the first element ; besides which are the sec-
ond, the element of air, and the third, the element of
earth, of which the planets are formed. In the organic
world, the mechanical explanation is still retained.
Plants and animals are mere machines. The animal
>,- soul is the _blood, the circulation of which constitutes
life. The blood, filtered by the brain, becomes the
animal spirits. Iii man, who is undemably at once
body and soul, thejwo opposed substanes^,spirit_and
matter, thought and extension, are intimatelyj^oniqined .
AlTHxpTanatinn of qprh linirm _ig-..frmnH in tUo pn-innl
gland, or the conariuin, which, being the onl.I?.ajQilhe
brain which ^single and. the ....spot where. the animal
spirits meet, may h< ?wtnmeH fro hp--fcbfe-&gai- of thfi_
_ soulJj' and its organ of communication with the body.-
it as t hgjJghjLjuid, . ejtie_Q5LQ.n ..are^rnutualLy-^xcJiisive
in their nature, their connection in the brain must be re-
gard e d as"su,peinAtM^UjyMkd^bj_God. Sensations
from impressions on the sense organs there exist as per-
ceptions, and thence volitions are transmitted through
the nerves to the muscles, whence bodily movements
arise. The passions are explained as due to ideas
strengthened by the action of the animal spirits forcing
their way to the heart through the pores of the brain
and the rest of the body, the result being a confused
but vivid state of feeling. The passions, like the ideas,
are theoretical and practical. All are to be deduced
from six primary ones, viz., wonder, love, hate, desire,
* See below, Treatise on Man, and Passions.
DESCARTES PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 23
joy, and sadness, the most inTpoj:taiiluaLjlhich_J^the
first, wonder, which is purely theoretical ; the remaining
live are practical, being accompanied by a tendency to
bodily motions. The most perfect of all the passions
is intellectual love of God. All moral action consists
in mastery of the passions, and this is the secret of a
happy life. The passions partake of the body, ideas
are of the mind only pure thought. Mind, as such,
alwjiys thinks. In the human mind ideas differ as re-
"spects clearness and origin. As respects clearness, they
are adequate or inadequate ; in origin, they are formed
by the action of the individual mind, or borrowed, ad-
ventitious, or innate. The innate__ideas_are simply
thought itself, thp.jnkjmj^_i([pn_o_f things"
from the nature of the human mind; thus, also, the (/, >..
Idea "of God .and of . .ourselves-- is -innate, ~ QLllie_ad- "
ventitious ideas, to which belong sensuous perceptions,
" musr'be distinguished those which correspond with
modes of external things and those which are simply
modes of thought, belonging only to the subject mind.
such as time and color, sound, taste. Of ideas fashioned
by ourselves, such as the siren, the centaur, these are
pure inventions, having no external objects correspond-
ing to them. In any idea regarded simply as a rep-
resentation, there is neither truth nor error. Truth and
error arise with judgments, and judgments are a com-
bination of intellect and will. Error comes from not
withholding the judgment till clear and distinct intui-
tion is gained, for the Divine veracity is pledged
that every clear and distinct perception shall be true.
The Divine mind is free from error because it has no
inadequate ideas. God's will is not like man's, condi-
tioned on intelligence ; rather the reverse is true. The
Divine will establishes even the eternal verities and
24 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
the nature of good itself. The will of God must be
conceived of as absolutely free from the control of
necessity. The human will is most free when most
subject to the determination of the intellect. The
highest freedom is not indifference, but perfection in
truth and character.
Such, in brief statement, are the main features of
Descartes' philosophy.
Like every epoch-making system, that of Descartes
contained within itself the germs of others, and of
systems opposed to it and to each other. Descartes'
own system was an unresolved dualism. It contained
the principles of materialism, of subjective idealism,
and of pantheism. There can even be seen, in one
or two passages, a fugitive fore-gleam of the critical
philosophy of Kant.
We must notice briefly the influence of this system
on succeeding thought. Descartes, like all great
original thinkers, had disciples whose simple aim was
to communicate and expound the system unchanged.
The new philosophy found acceptance at the univer-
sities in the Netherlands. It was taught at Leyden, at
Utrecht, at Groningen, and at Franeker. At the same
time the system was violently attacked. It was found
to be in conflict with the Bible, and theological con-
troversy waxed warm. The motion of the earth and /
the infinity of the universe did not accord with eccle-
siastical opinion, nor with the prevailing interpretation
of the Scriptures. Cartesian theologians in defense
advocated an allegorical explanation of biblical lan-
guage. The doctrine had already been condemned
by the Synod of Dort (1656), and in the following
year by that of Deift. It aroused the opposition of
the Roman Church also, and the " Meditations " were
DESCARTES PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 25
placed upon the " Index librorum prohibitorum"
"donee corrigantur" And, in consequence, in after
years even the dead body of the philosopher was at
first refused interment in a church in Paris, and al-
though this was finally allowed, funeral ceremonies
and the erection of a monument were forbidden. The
reigning monarch, Louis XIV., in league with the Jes-
uits, interdicted the teaching of the Cartesian doctrine
in the universities, and indeed throughout France.
This opposition was perhaps mainly due to the fact
that the Jansenists had adopted Cartesianism. But it
was occasioned also by the conflict between the meta-
physical theory of Descartes, that the essence of body
is extension, and the church doctrine of the real pres-
ence of Christ in the sacrament. The same body
cannot exist in different spaces at once ; transubstan-
tiation cannot therefore be true. Both the Jansenist
Arnauld* and the Jesuit Mesland f had urged this
conflict with the Eucharistic doctrine of the philoso-
pher's teaching concerning body and its extension,
and Descartes had replied to their objections. But
while the system had to encounter the hostility of the
theologians of the day, both Catholic and Protestant,
it found ready acceptance with those who cultivated
literature in that most brilliant age. The new and
striking views, the beautiful method, the charming
lucidity of presentation, made a profound impression
upon the French mind; they took powerful hold of the
foremost writers in prose and poetry, and thus contrib-
uted greatly to the formation of the classic style.
Cartesianism became the literary fashion. It was cul-
* (Euvres, t. ii, p. 35, Arnauld's objection ; t. ii, p. 78, Des-
cartes' reply.
\ (Euvres, t. ix, pp. 172 and 192, replies to Mesland.
26 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
tivated by ladies and adopted by society. Accordingly
it soon was made a target for the wits of the day, as
the " Femmes Savantes " of Moliere bears witness,
and later the Jesuit Daniel's " Voyage du monde de
Descartes." *
The first important step in the development of the
Cartesian doctrine was taken in the theory of occa-
sionalism by Arnold Geulincx (1625-1669), professor
of philosophy at Leyden. He assumed as an axiom
that an efficient cause must be conscious not only of <_
the effect but of the mode of its production. ( hnpos-
sibile est ut is faciat qui nescit quomodo fiat. Exten-
sion and motion have no relation to thought or sen-
sation in the way of causation. Body cannot act up-
on mind, volition cannot originate motion, because
he who wills knows not how his volition acts on his
brain, nerves, and muscles. Hence there can be no
reciprocal action of soul and body, and God alone is
the efficient cause of all that happens. God has so
connected these most opposed things, the motion of
matter and the volition of the will, that when a volition
arises the appropriate motion occurs, and vice versa,
there being no causal connection between the two ; but
God himself, on occasion of the one, produces the other. '
PhilaretusJ (pseudonym), the editor of the Ethics
of Geulincx, to make this correspondence intelligible,
employs the illustration of the two clocks, which Leib-
* See Bouillier, " Histoire de la Philosophic Cari&ienne," t. i,
P. 425-
A Latin version of Daniel's book exists, " Her per Mundum Car-
tesii." Amsterdam, 1694.
f Bouillier, t. i, p. 286.
\ Bontekoe. See Erdmann, Hist, of Philos. Modern, pp. 29, 30,
trans.
DESCARTES' PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 27
^ jiitz afterward uses in the explanation of his own
theory.
Pere Nicholas Malebranche (1638-1 7 15), of the Ora-
tory of Jesus in Paris, a profound theologian of the
Augustinian type, and an enthusiastic disciple of Des-
cartes, applied the principles of the latter to the solu-
tion of the problem of knowledge. He accepted the
doctrine of the two mutually opposed substances, body
and mind, /'. e., extension and thought, between which
there can be no reciprocal influence (influxus physicu$\
and adopted Occasionalism, whether as influenced by
Geulincx, or as the necessary consequence of dualism.
The special problem was to show the possibility of a
^ knowledge of matter by mind, there being no natural
community, but, on the contrary, the most complete
opposition, between the two. Like Geulincx in ex-
plaining action, Malebranche, in explaining knowledge,
is obliged to have recourse to the third, and indeed,
strictly speaking, /. e., according to the definition, only
true substance, God. Accordingly, Malebranche says
God is the place of spirits ; we see things in God. " God
is through his presence so closely united with our souls
that we can say that he is the place of minds, exactly as
space is the place of bodies." * Bodies, which are
modifications of extension, are knowable only through
ideas ; they exist, therefore, in the only form in which
we can know them, in God alone, who is the universal
reason, the intelligible world, the intelligible, that is to
us the only real, extension. That which we see in God,
then, is not external things themselves, but the ideas
of things, the intelligible world. Not only these ideas,
but our sensations and our volitions, are produced in
* Recherche, liv. iii, pt. ii, ch. vi. Kuno Fischer, Descartes
and his School, p. 578, trans.
28 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
us by God alone. Hence not only the idealism but
the pantheistic tendency of the system of Male-
branche.
Baruch (Benedictus) de Spinoza (born in Amsterdam,
1632, died at The Hague, 1677), made the philosophy
of Descartes his starting-point and completely trans-
formed its dualism into a monism, in which God is
declared to be the one sole substance (Substantia una
et unica). Spinoza adopted from Descartes the math-
ematical way of looking at things. Philosophical and
mathematical certainty are identical with him. Like
Descartes, therefore, he totally excludes final causes,
but with more emphatic protest, and not only from
physics but from ethics. Efficient causation he also
denies. Mathematics (philosophy, therefore) knows
nothing of causes, but only of reasons, nothing of
effects, but only of consequents.* The method of
presentation is mathematical. Of this, also, an ex-
ample had been given in Descartes, who, in what he
calls his synthetic demonstration of the being of God f
had presented the proof /;/ more geometrico. The
earliest published work of Spinoza was an exposi-
tion, in the mathematical form, of the principles of
Descartes' philosophy, and the same form is employed
in the Ethics, which is the chief exponent of his own
philosophical views. The fundamental notions in
Spinoza's system are those of substance, attribute, and
mode. The whole system turns on the definition oj[
substance, adopted from Descartes. \ " By substance
I understand that which is in itself and is conceived
* Cf. Erdmann, Hist, of Philos. Modern, p. 52, trans., for the
true meaning of the term causa in Spinoza's writings.
f Rfyonses anx SJcondes Objections. (Euvrts, t. i, pp. 451-465.
\ Principe -s, pie. i, 51.
DESCARTES' PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 29
through itself ; that is, that the conception of which
; does not require the conception of anything else from
C^which it must be formed." * There necessarily can ex-
ist, then, but one substance; all else is attribute or mode.
The absolute substance is not ground of all being, but
rather ts all being. To this one unconditioned, all-in-
clusive being, Spinoza assigns the name God, but the
name nature is equally appropriate, hence he says,
Dens sive natura. But nature may be natura naturans,
that which is in itself, the absolute substance, the un-
conditioned ; or natura naturata, the modes of this
absolute substance, the world as a whole, or the sum
total of conditions of existence, which are both but two
aspects of the one reality. Attributes appear in
Spinoza's scheme to differ from modes only in this,
that they pertain to substance, not in reality, like modes,
but rather only in intelleclu, in the view of finite mind,
which is itself (however contradictorily), for Spinoza,
but a mode of infinite substance. Herein Spinoza
differs from Descartes, who taught that attribute
constitutes the essence of substance ; apparently, the
difference is between an objective and a subjective
conception of attribute. f The one substance must
then be conceived under the two attributes, thought
and extension, as thinking substance and extended
substance, while in reality there is but one sole sub-
stance (Dens sive natura}. This distinction between
what/V and what must be //////;/ is suggestive of Tran-
scendentalism, but Spinoza's position is not that of
Kant, but that of the dogmatist ; he held, with Des-
cartes, that what is clearly thought does not differ
from what is. It is difficult at this point to repel the
* Ethics, Def . 3.
fCf. Erdmann, Hist, of P kilos. Modern, p. 67.
30 y THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
charge of inconsistency, and the difficulty is greatly in-
creased when we find these attributes, which are af-
firmed to exist, not in reality, but only for the human
understanding as necessary notions, treated as inde-
pendent and mutually opposed substances. No less
than Descartes, Spinoza strenuously insists that
neither spirit can act on matter, nor matter on spirit ;
but he insists further that each is the other, different
forms of one and the same substance, just as " the idea
of the circle and the actual circle are the same thing,
now under the attribute of thought, and again under
that of extension." Again, when explaining the possi-
bility of particular or individual existence in a system
which posits one sole substance and affirms omnis de-
terminatio est negatio, Spinoza refers them to the in-
finite modes of the one substance of which, like waves
of the sea,* they are the transient expression, having
in themselves apart no reality, and constituting, all
taken together, a realm of conditioned existence,
each member dependent on the rest, and all bound
together by the chain of necessity, a realm of ap-
pearance, fugitive, and, for pure thought, appear-
ance only. Hence Spinoza's acosmism. \ The dualism
of Descartes is thus transformed by Spinoza into an
abstract monism, but the system was implicitly con-
tained in Descartes' definition of substance, which
Spinoza takes for his starting-point.
In precisely the opposite direction, the first great
German philosopher, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz
(1646-17 16), starting also from the notion of substance,
which he defines, however, as living activity, develops
the doctrine of the plurality of substances. As with
* Erdmann's comparison, see Hist, of Philos. Modern, p. 61.
f Hegel thus designates the system.
DESCARTES PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 31
Spinoza, thought not extension, mind not matter, is the
essential form of being ; but in opposition to him, in-
dividuality and, therefore, plurality of mind-sub-
stances is asserted. The universe, physical and spir-
itual, is an aggregate or, rather hierarchy of such
individual minds, which Leibnitz calls monads. While
rejecting the position of Descartes that thought, as
such, is necessarily conscious, Leibnitz retains, and de-
velops into an essential element of his own theory, a dis-
tinction which Descartes had pointed out in the nature
;' of perceptions between clear and obscure, distinct and
confused. Ail monads are souls, all have perceptions,
but not all have consciousness. Hence the gradation ;
inorganic nature moves, plants sleep, animals dream,
spirits think; God, the supreme monad, whence all
radiate, is absolute creative Intelligence, who, being
the source of all, knows all completely.
Leibnitz, who, with Descartes, denied (as, indeed,
his own theory of the monads required) any influence
reciprocally between body and mind, rejected also the
theory of Occasionalism, and substituted for it the doc-
trine of the Preestablished Harmony, in illustration
of which he uses the comparison of two clocks, origi-
nally so perfect in construction that each, although
entirely independent of the other, keeps exact time
with it.*
The philosophy of Leibnitz is idealism, or spiritism,
Descartes had made the essence of matter to consist
in extension ; Leibnitz conceives the essence of sub-
stance to be activity, life, mind. The monads are
perceptive in all degrees, from complete unconscious-
* Descartes had already employed the illustration of a single
clock in explaining the human body as a machine.
^2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
ness in the inorganic world, to full self-consciousness <e*
of spirit in man and deity. Individualism has re-
placed monism. Each monad is isolated and indepen-
dent of the rest. Each is living substance, or soul, /
and the monads are innumerable. In place of the one
substance of Spinoza (and virtually of Malebranche),
instead of the two opposed substances of Descartes,
we have, then, in Leibnitz, an indefinitely great number
of substances, alike in being souls, but unlike in the \
degree of participation in psychical life. In place of
occasionalism we have the eternally preestablished
harmony, through which, out of isolated monads, a
universe becomes possible.*
The theory of knowledge connects Leibnitz with
Locke, whose doctrine of empiricism he opposed.
John Locke (1632-1704) interested himself as a philos-
opher in the problem of knowledge. Innate ideas,
adventitious ideas, and fictitious ideas was the classifi-
cation Descartes had made of the ideas of the mind ;
teaching, at the same time, that to have an idea the
mind must be conscious of having it. Locke easily
made it appear that, with this condition, there could be
no innate ideas, and that the human mind was in pos-
session only of the adventitious ideas, or those derived
from other sources than the thinking faculty itself,
which sources Locke found to be two, sensation and
reflection, i. e., outer and inner sense. The thinking
faculty is, prior to experience, a tabula rasa. Hence
the theory of knowledge is that of pure empiricism.
The further development of Locke's empiricism
into the philosophical skepticism of Hume, the sub-
* In his Theodicee Leibnitz carries out the thought of Descartes
[Med. IV] that the perfection of the universe as a whole requires
the imperfection of its parts. Cf. Bishop Butler, Analogy, ch. vii.
DESCARTES' PHILOSOPHY ITS INFLUENCE. 33
jective idealism of Berkeley, the materialism of the
French Encyclopedists and the Systeme de la Nature,
it is not necessary here to trace. It may be re-
marked, however, that the skepticism of Hume recalls,
by contrast, the provisional doubting of all things
by Descartes, that the idealism of Berkeley was
already suggested in the Je pense, done je suis j and
that the French materialistic movement renews
the first great French philosopher's attempt to
resolve all bodily life into mechanism and motion.
Leibnitz, by his doctrine of unconscious mental ac-
tivity, in opposition to Descartes' limitation of mind
to consciousness, was able to give its true significance
to the theory of the innate ideas (the i'vvoiai ideal
of the Greeks), and thus, by giving emphasis to the
intellectual principles, as Locke to the empirical
element, opened the path to a reconstruction of
philosophy at the hands of Kant, who, partly in op-
position to, partly in agreement with, dogmatism on
the one hand, and empiricism on the other, but
mainly by introducing the new method and principle
of criticism, brought in a new epoch and changed
thereafter the whole aspect of philosophy.
It would be entirely incorrect to say that Des-
cartes had forestalled Kant, or that the principles
of the critical philosophy are contained in the Med-
itations, or the Principles, of the great French
thinker, yet there are interesting passages in the
Rules for the Direction of the Mind, and in the
Principles also, which show that he was fully aware
of the fundamental importance of the problem of the
nature of cognition itself, and states that problem
34 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
almost in the very language of Kant,* while in his
doctrine of space and time, but particularly of the
latter, which he regards as nothing more than a
modus cogitandi, he reminds the reader of the famous
exposition in the Transcendental ^Esthetic of the
Critique of Pure Reason.
*See Kuno Fischer, Descartes and his School, p. 495, trans.
THE SELECTIONS.
THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD,
PARTS I, II, III.
35
THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD.*
PART FIRST.
.... My design is not to point out the method
which everyone must follow for the right direction of
his understanding, but merely to show how I have
attempted to conduct my own. Those who take it
upon themselves to give precepts to others must
assume that they are themselves better instructed
than those to whom they give them, and if they make
the least error, they are answerable for it. But as I
offer this production merely as a piece of personal
history, or of fiction, if you please, in which, among
some examples which may well be imitated, there
will be found, perhaps, many others also which one
might reasonably decline to follow, I hope that it
may prove useful to some and harmful to none, and
that all will take my frankness kindly.
I was brought up to letters from my childhood, and
because I was led to believe that by means of them
clear and certain knowledge of all that was useful in
life might be acquired, I had an extreme desire for
learning. But no sooner had I completed the whole
course of studies at the end of which it is customary
for one to be received into the circle of the learned,
than I changed my opinion entirely. For I found
myself involved in so many doubts and errors, that it
seemed to me that I had derived no other advantage
* CEuvres, t. i, p. 124.
37
38 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
from my endeavors to instruct myself but only to find
out more and more how ignorant I was. And yet I
was in one of the most celebrated schools in Europe,
where I thought there must be learned men if there
were any such in the world. I had acquired all that
others learned there, and more than that, not being
content with the sciences which were taught us, I ran
through all the books I could get hold of which treated
of matters considered most curious and rare. More-
over, I knew what others thought about me, and I did
not perceive that they considered me inferior to my
fellow-students, albeit there were among them some
who were destined to fill the places of our masters.
And finally, our time appeared to me to be as flourish-
ing and as prolific of good minds as any preceding
time had been. Such considerations emboldened me
to judge all others by myself, and served to convince
me that there did not exist in the world any such wis-
dom as I had been led to hope for. However, I did
not cease to think well of scholastic pursuits. I knew
that the languages taught in the schools were indis-
pensable for the understanding of the ancient books ;
that light and graceful stories stimulate the mind ;
that the memorable deeds of history exalt it, and
that when read with discretion they help to form the
judgment ; that the reading of all good books is like
conversation with the noble men of bygone times a
studied conversation, even, in which only their best
thoughts are disclosed But I thought I had
already given time enough to languages and to the
literature of the ancients, to their histories and to
their fables. To talk with men of other times is like
traveling. It is well to know something of the man-
ners of foreign peoples, in order that we may judge
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 39
our own more wisely, and that we may not suppose
that what is different from our own habits is ridicu-
lous and contrary to reason, as those do who have not
seen the world. But if one spends too much time in
traveling in foreign countries, he becomes at last a
stranger in his own ; and when one is too curious to
know what has been done in past ages, he is liable to
remain ignorant of what is going on in his own time.
Moreover, fiction represents many events as possible
which are not so ; and even the most faithful histories,
if they do not deviate from truth nor dignify events to
make them more impressive, at least they almost
always omit the meaner and the less illustrious inci-
dents, so that it comes about that the rest is not what
it really was, and those who govern their conduct by
the examples there furnished are liable to fall into the
extravagances of the paladins of our romances, and
to conceive designs which surpass their ability.
Eloquence I held in high esteem, and I was in love
with poetry ; but I regarded both as the gifts of
genius rather than the fruit of study. Those who
have the strongest reasoning powers and who best
digest their thoughts in order to make them clear and
intelligible, are always the best able to speak per-
suasively, although they may talk the dialect of Lower
Brittany and have never learned rhetoric ; and those
who have the most delightful fancies, and who can ex-
press them with sweetness and grace, are the best
poets, although the art of poetry is unknown to them.
Above all I was delighted with the mathematics, on
account of the certainty and evidence of their demon-
strations, but I had not as yet found out their true use,
and although I supposed that they were of service only
in the mechanic arts, I was surprised that upon foun-
40 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART 1
dations so solid and stable no loftier structure had been
raised : while, on the other hand, I compared the writ-
ings of the ancient moralists to palaces very proud and
very magnificent, but which are built on nothing but
sand or mud I revered our theology, and, as
much as anyone, I strove to gain heaven ; but when I
learned, as an assured fact, that the way is open no less
to the most ignorant than to the most learned, and that
the revealed truths which conduct us thither lie beyond
the reach of our intelligence, I did not presume to sub-
mit them to the feebleness of my reasonings, and I
thought that, to undertake the examination of them and
succeed in the attempt, required extraordinary divine
assistance and more than human gifts. I had
nothing to say of philosophy, save that, seeing it had
been cultivated by the best minds for many ages, and
still there was nothing in it which might not be brought
into dispute, and which was, therefore, not free from
doubt, I had not the presumption to hope for better suc-
cess therein than others ; and considering how many di-
verse opinions may be held upon the same subject
and defended by the learned, while not more than one
of them can be true, I regarded as pretty nearly false
all that was merely probable. Then, as to the other
sciences which derive their principles from philosophy,
I judged that nothing solid could be built upon foun-
dations so unstable ; and neither the fame nor the
emolument they promised me were sufficient to induce
me to acquire them ; for, thanks to a kind Provi-
dence, I did not find myself in a condition of life
which required me to make science a profession for
the bettering of my estate ; and although I did not
profess to despise fame, like a cynic, still I thought
very little of that which I could not hope to acquire
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 41
except on false pretenses. And finally, as for the
pseudo-sciences, I thought I was already sufficiently
acquainted with their value to be proof against the
promises of the alchemist, the predictions of the
astrologer, the impostures of the magician, the artifices
and vain boasting of those who profess to know more
than they actually do know.*
For these reasons, so soon as I was old enough to
be no longer subject to the control of my teachers, I
abandoned literary pursuits altogether, and, being re-
solved to seek no other knowledge than that which I
was able to find within myself or in the great book of
the world, I spent the remainder of my youth in travel-
ing, in seeing courts and armies, in mingling with peo-
ple of various dispositions and conditions in life, in
collecting a variety of experiences, putting myself to
the proof in the crises of fortune, and reflecting on all
occasions on whatever might present itself, so as to
derive from it what profit I might. For it appeared to
me that I might find a great deal more of truth in
reasonings such as everyone carries on with reference
to the affairs which immediately concern himself, and
where the issue will bring speedy punishment if he
make a mistake, than in those which a man of letters
conducts in his private study with regard to specula-
tions, which have no other effect and are of no further
consequence to him than to tickle his vanity the less
they are understood by common people, and the more
they require wit and skill to make them seem probable.
And I always had an extreme desire to learn how to
* Lewes in his Biographical History of Philosophy,^. 363, finds
" a remarkable resemblance '' between Descartes' Discourse and
the Arabian Philosopher Algazzali's Revivification of the Sciences
of Religion.
42 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
distinguish the true from the false, so that I might see
clearly and proceed with assurance in the affairs of
this present life.
It is true that while I was employed only in observ-
ing the manners of foreigners, I found very little to
establish my mind, and saw as much diversity here as
I had seen before in the opinions of philosophers. So
that the principal benefit I derived from it was that,
observing many things which, although they appear to
us to be very extravagant and ridiculous, are yet
commonly received and approved by other great
peoples, I gradually became emancipated from many
errors which tend to obscure the natural light within
us, and make us less capable of listening to reason.
But after I had spent some years thus in studying in
the book of the world, and trying to gain some ex-
perience, I formed one day the resolution to study
within myself, and to devote all the powers of my
mind to choosing the paths which I must thereafter
follow ; a project attended with much greater success,
as I think, than it would have been had I never left
my country nor my books.
PART SECOND.
I WAS then in Germany, whither the wars, which
were not yet ended there, had summoned me ; and
when I was returning to the army, from the coronation
of the emperor, the coming on of the winter de-
tained me in a quarter where, finding no one I wished
to talk with, and fortunately having no cares nor
passions to trouble me, I spent the whole day shut up
in a room heated by a stove, where I had all the leisure
I desired to hold converse with my own thoughts.
One of the first thoughts to occur to me was that there
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 43
is often less completeness in works made up of many
parts and by the hands of different masters than in
those upon which only one has labored. Thus we see
that buildings which a single architect has undertaken
and erected are usually much more beautiful and sym-
metrical than those which many have tried to recon-
struct, using old walls which were built for other pur-
poses.
So those old cities which, at the beginning being
nothing but straggling villages, have in course of
time become great towns, are generally so badly ar-
ranged, compared with the regularly laid out towns
which an engineer plots according to his fancy on
a level plain, that although, when you look at single
buildings by themselves, you find often as much or
even more art than in those of other cities, and yet
to see how they are placed, a great building here, a
little one there, and how crooked and irregular the
streets are, you would say that chance rather than the
will of men in the use of their reason had so disposed
them And so I thought that the sciences
contained in books, at least those in which the proofs
were merely probable and not demonstrations, being
the gradual accumulation of opinions of many differ-
ent persons, by no means come so near the truth as
the plain reasoning of a man of good sense in regard
to the matters which present themselves to him.
And I thought still further that, because we alt
have been children before we were men, and for a
long time of necessity were under the control of our
inclinations and our tutors, who were often of differ-
ent minds, and none of whom perhaps gave us the
best of counsels, it is almost impossible that our judg-
ments should be as free from error and as solid as
44 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
they would have been if we had had the entire use of
our reason from the moment of our birth, and had
always been guided by that alone
As for all the opinions which I had accepted up to
that time, I was persuaded that I could do no better
than get rid of them at once, in order to replace them
afterward with better ones, or perhaps with the same,
if I should succeed in making them square with reason.
And I firmly believed that in this way I should have
much greater success in the conduct of my life than
if I should build only on the old foundations, and
should rely only on the principles which I had allowed
myself to be persuaded of in my youth, without ever
having examined whether they were true
My design has never reached further than the
attempt to reform my own opinions, and to build
upon a foundation altogether my own. But although
I am well enough pleased with my work to present
you here a sketch of it, I would not on that account
advise anyone to imitate me The simple reso-
lution to strip one's self of all that he has hitherto be-
lieved is not an example for everyone to follow
But having discovered while at college that there is
nothing whatever so strange or incredible that has
not been said by some philosopher ; and afterward, in
my travels, having observed that not all those who
cherish opinions quite contrary to our own are there-
fore barbarians or savages, but that many of these
peoples use their reason as well or better than we do ;
and having considered how differently the same man,
with the same mind, would turn out, if he were
brought up from infancy among the French or the
Germans, from what he would if he always lived
among the Chinese or with cannibals ; and observing
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 45
how, even in fashions of dress, the same thing which
pleased us ten years ago, and, it may be, will please
us again ten years hence, appears to us now extrava-
gant and ridiculous ; so that it is rather custom and
example than certain knowledge which persuades us ;
and yet a plurality of votes is no proof that a thing is
true, especially where truths are difficult of discovery,
in which case it is much more likely that a man left to
himself will find them out sooner than people in general
taking all these things into consideration, and not
being able to select anyone whose opinions seemed
to me to be preferable to those of others, I found my-
self, as it were, compelled to take myself as my guide.
But like a man who walks alone and in the dark, I re-
solved to go so slowly and to use so much caution in
everything, that, even if I did not get on very far, I
should at least keep from falling. Likewise I was un-
willing at the start to reject summarily any opinion
which might have insinuated itself into my belief
without having been introduced there by reason, but
I would first spend time enough to draw up a plan of
the work I was undertaking and to discover the true
method for arriving at the knowledge of whatever my
mind was capable of.
I had studied, in earlier years, of the branches of
philosophy, logic, and in mathematics, geometrical
analysis and algebra, three arts or sciences which
seemed likely to afford some assistance to my design.
But on examination of them I observed, in respect to
logic, that its syllogism and the greater part of its
processes are of service principally in explaining to
another what one already knows himself, or, like the art
of Lully, they enable him to talk without judgment on
matters in which he is ignorant, rather than help him
46 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
to acquire knowledge of them ; and while it contains
in reality many very true and very excellent precepts,
there are nevertheless mixed with these many others
which are either harmful or superfluous, and which are
almost as difficult to separate from the rest as to draw
forth a Diana or a Minerva from a block of marble
which is not yet rough-hewn. Moreover, as regards
the analysis of the ancients and the algebra of the
moderns, besides that they relate only to very abstract
matters, and of no practical use, the first is always so
restricted to the consideration of figures that it can-
not employ the understanding without fatiguing the
imagination, and in the second one is so confined to
certain rules and symbols that, in place of a science
which cultivates the mind, we have only a confused
and obscure art productive of mental embarrassment.
For this reason I thought that some other method
should be sought out which, comprising the ad-
vantages of these three, should be exempt from their
defects. And as a multiplicity of laws often furnishes
excuses for vices, so that a state is best governed
which has but few and those strictly obeyed ; in
like manner, in place of the multitude of precepts
of which logic is composed, I believed I should find
the four following rules quite sufficient, provided I
should firmly and steadfastly resolve not to fail of ob-
serving them in a single instance.*
The first rule was never to receive anything as a
truth which I did not clearly know to be such ; that
is, to avoid haste and prejudice, and not to compre-
hend anything more in my judgments than that which
should present itself so clearly and so distinctly to my
* Compare Rules for the Direction of the Mind, below, p. 6r,
et seq.
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 47
mind that I should have no occasion to entertain a
doubt of it.
The second rule was to divide every difficulty which
I should examine into as many parts as possible, or
as might be required for resolving it.
The third rule was to conduct my thoughts in an
orderly manner, beginning with objects the most sim-
ple and the easiest to understand, in order to ascend
as it were by steps to the knowledge of the most com-
posite, assuming some order to exist even in things
which did not appear to be naturally connected.
IThe last rule was to make enumerations so complete,!
and reviews so comprehensive, that I should be certain!
of omitting nothing.
Those long chains of reasoning, quite simple and
easy, which geometers are wont to employ in the ac-
complishment of their most difficult demonstrations,
led me to think that everything which might fall under
the cognizance of the human mind might be connected
together in a similar manner, and that, provided only
one should take care not to receive anything as true
which was not so, and if one were always careful to
preserve the order necessary for deducing one truth
from another, there would be none so remote at which
he might not at last arrive, nor so concealed which
he might not discover. And I had no great difficulty
in finding those with which to make a beginning, for
I knew already that these must be the simplest and
easiest to apprehend ; and considering that, among all
those who had up to this time made discoveries in the
sciences, it was the mathematicians alone who had been
able to arrive at demonstrations that is to say, at
proofs certain and evident I did not doubt that I
should begin with the same truths which they have
48 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
investigated, although I had looked for no other
advantage from them than to accustom my mind
to nourish itself upon truths and not to be satis-
fied with false reasons. But I had no intention to at-
tempt to learn all the sciences which pass under the
name of mathematics ; and perceiving that, while their
subjects were different, they all agreed in this, that they
considered nothing else but the various relations and
proportions existing therein, I thought that it would
be of advantage to examine solely proportions in gen-
eral, considering them only in subjects which would
serve to render my knowledge of them more easy,
at the same time not restricting them in any wise
thereto, in order so much the better afterward to ap-
ply them to all others to which they might be suited.
Next, having observed that, in order to compre-
hend them, it was necessary for me sometimes to con-
sider each of them in particular, and sometimes merely
to remember them, or to combine many of them to-
gether, I thought that for the better consideration of
them in particular I ought to conceive them in lines,
because I could find nothing more simple, and nothing
that I could represent more distinctly to my imagina-
tion and my senses ; but that, to retain them or to
comprehend many of them together, it would be
necessary for me to represent them by certain sym-
bols as concise as possible, and for this purpose I
might employ with the greatest advantage geometrical
analysis and algebra, and that I might correct all the
defects of the one by the other.
And I am free to say that the exact observance
of these few rules which I had laid down gave me
such facility in solving all the questions to which
these two sciences apply, that in the two or three
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 49
months which I spent in examining them, having be-
gun with the simplest and most general, and each truth
that I discovered being a rule which was of service to
me afterward in the discovery of others, not only did
I arrive at many which formerly I had considered very
difficult, but it seemed to me, toward the end, that
1 was able to determine even in those matters where
I was ignorant by what means and how far it would
be possible to resolve them. In this I shall not appear
to you to be very vain, perhaps, if you will only con-
sider that there is, in respect to each case, but one truth,
and that he who finds it knows as much about it as
anyone can know ; as, for example, a child, who has
learned arithmetic, when he has made an addition ac-
cording to the rules, can be assured that he has found
out, in respect to the sum that he has computed, all
that it is possible for the human mind to discover. Be-
cause, in a word, the method which shows one how to
follow the true order, and to take account exactly of
all the circumstances of the subject under investigation,
contains all that which gives certitude to the rules of
arithmetic. But that which pleased me most in this
method was the fact that by means of it I was using
my reason in everything, if not perfectly, yet in a
manner the very best in my power ; besides, I noticed
that in following it my mind was accustoming itself by
degrees to conceive its object more clearly and dis-
tinctly ; and, without restricting it to any particular
subject, I hoped to apply it as successfully to the
difficulties of other sciences as I had done to those of
algebra. Not that I had dared to undertake at once
to examine all that presented themselves, for that
would have been contrary to the order which the
method had prescribed, but observing that their prin-
50 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
ciples must in every case be derived from philosophy,
in which I had not yet found any that were certain,
I thought it to be necessary first of all to attempt to
establish them there, and that, this being of all things
of the greatest importance, and an inquiry where,
above all, haste and prejudice were to be feared, I
ought not to undertake the task until I had reached
a riper age than that of twenty-three years, which was
then my age, and until I had spent a considerable
time in eradicating from my mind all those false ideas
which I had received previously, as well as in accu-
mulating a stock of experiences to form the matter
of my reasonings, and in exercising myself constantly
in the method which I had prescribed for myself, in
order to strengthen myself therein more and more.
PART THIRD.
AND finally, since before one begins to rebuild the
house in which he is living, it is not enough that
he should tear it down, and provide materials and
architects, or study architecture for himself, and
then make a careful design, but it is also necessary
that he should be provided with some other house, in
which he may comfortably lodge while the new one
is building ; in like manner, in order that I might not
lead an irresolute life during the time in which reason
required me to remain undecided in my opinions, and
in order that I might not thenceforward fail of living
as happily as possible, I formed for myself a pro-
visional moral code consisting of only three or four
maxims which I desire to lay before you.
The first was to obey the laws and customs of my
native land, holding steadfastly to the religion in which,
by the grace of God, I had been brought up from in-
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 51
fancy, and to govern myself in every other concern in
accordance with opinions the most moderate and fur-
thest from excess, such as were commonly put in prac-
tice by the most sensible people among those with
whom I had to live. Because, beginning from that
time onward to count for nothing my own opinions,
for the reason that I wished to submit them all to ex-
amination, I was convinced that I could not do better
than to follow those of the most sensible. And al-
though there might be just as sensible people among
the Persians or the Chinese as among ourselves, it
appeared to me to be more to my advantage to regu-
late my conduct by those with whom I had to live ;
and, in order to know what their opinions really were,
I ought rather to observe what they practiced than
what they said, not only because that, in the corrup-
tion of our manners, very few people are willing to
say all that they think, but also because most persons
are ignorant of their own thoughts ; for the act of
thought in which one thinks anything being distinct
from that in which he perceives that he thinks it,
the one may often be without the other. And among
many opinions equally acceptable, I chose only the
most moderate, not only because those are always
the most suitable to put in practice, and probably the
best, all excess being usually bad, but also in order
that I might find myself less astray from the true path
than I should if, having chosen one of the extremes,
it should turn out that it was the other which should
have been followed. And, in particular, I set down
as excess all pledges whereby one restricts his liberty ;
not that I disapproved of laws, which, to remedy the
inconstancy of feeble minds, allow, when one has a
good end in view, or even, for security in business
52 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
transactions, when the end is quite indifferent, that
vows or contracts should be made which bind a per-
son to his engagements ; but because I did not see
anything anywhere which remained always in the
same state, and for myself in particular, who had en-
gaged to improve my opinions more and more, and
not to make them worse, I thought it would be com-
mitting a great sin against good sense if, because I
approved something then, I should oblige myself to
approve it ever afterward, when perhaps it had ceased
to be good or I had ceased to consider it so.
My second maxim was to be as firm and resolute
in my conduct as I could, and to follow the most
doubtful opinions, when I had once made up my
mind to do so, with no less constancy than if they
were very well grounded ; imitating in this respect
travelers, who, on finding out that they are lost in a
forest, should not wander about, turning now to this
side and now to that, still less stay in one spot, but
always move on as nearly as possible in the same
direction, and not change it except for sufficient
reasons, although, perhaps, at the beginning, it was
nothing but chance which led them to choose it, be-
cause, in this way, although they may not come out
precisely where they may have wished, they will in
the end at least arrive somewhere, where they will
probably be better off than in the middle of a forest.
In a similar manner, in the conduct of life, where
actions often do not admit of delay, it is a truth very
certain that when it is not in our power to discern
the truest opinion, we ought to follow the most prob-
able ; and even although we may not see more
probability in some than in others, we ought never-
theless to commit ourselves to some opinions, and
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 53
thereafter consider them in their relation to conduct
as being no longer doubtful, but perfectly true and
certain, because the reason is so which made them
choose it. This rule observed has delivered me from
all the repentings and regrets which vex the con-
sciences of those weak and wavering souls who allow
themselves inconsiderately to put in practice, as if
they were good, things which they afterward judge to
be bad.
My third maxim was to try always to conquer
myself rather than fortune, and to change my desires
rather than the order of the world, and, in general, to
accustom myself to believe that there is nothing
whatever so entirely within our power as our thoughts
are, so that after we have done our best in respect to
things external to us, whatever there is lacking to
success is, as regards ourselves, absolutely impossible.
And this of itself seemed to me enough to prevent
me from desiring for the future anything which I
could not obtain, and thus to make me contented ;
for, inasmuch as our will is naturally inclined to desire
only those things which our understanding repre-
sents to us as being somehow attainable, it is cer-
tain that, if we consider all the good things which are
external to us as equally removed from our power,
we shall feel no more regret at the loss of those which
seem to be due to our birth, when we shall be deprived
of them through no fault of our own, than we should
feel at not possessing the kingdoms of China or
Mexico ; and making a virtue of necessity, as they
say, we shall no more desire to be well when ill, nor to
be at liberty while in prison, than we should now desire
to have bodies made of some matter as incorruptible
as diamonds, or wings to fly with like birds. But I
54 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
own that long practice is needed, and often repeated
reflection, to accustom one's self to look on all things
from this point of view ; and I believe that chiefly in
this consisted the secret of those philosophers who
in former times were able to deliver themselves from
the sway of fortune, and, despite suffering and
poverty, to vie with their gods in felicity. For,
steadfastly considering the limits assigned to them
by nature, they so fully persuaded themselves that
nothing whatever was in their power but their
thoughts, that, by itself alone, this was enough to
keep them from having any yearning for other things ;
and over their thoughts they held a sway so absolute
that they had therein good reason to look upon
themselves as being richer, more powerful, more free,
and more happy than any of their fellow-men, who,
without this philosophy, favored, as they might be,
by nature and by fortune, could never thus control all
that they desired.
Finally, to make a conclusion of my~code of morals,
I was minded to pass in review the various occupa-
tions of men in this life, with a view of choosing the
best ; and, without wishing to pronounce upon those
of others, I thought that I could do no better than to
keep on in the same pursuit in which I was engaged,
that is to say, spending all my life in the cultivation of
my reason, and in making as much progress as I could
in the knowledge of truth, following out the method I
had laid down for myself. I have found, since I be-
gan to make use of this method, satisfactions so great
as I do not believe more sweet or more innocent can
be known in this life : and discovering every day, by
means of it, important truths, as it seemed to me, and
of which most men were ignorant, the gratification I
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 55
had from it so filled my mind that nothing else affected
me at all. Besides, the three preceding maxims were
founded simply on the design I had of carrying on
my work of self-instruction. For inasmuch as God
has given to each one of us some light for discerning
the true from the false, I could not believe I should
be content with the opinions of others for a single
moment, if I had not proposed to use my own judg-
ment in examining them when the proper time should
arrive ; and I could not have followed them without
scruple had I not been confident that in doing so I
should lose no opportunity of finding out better ones,
if such should exist ; and finally, I should not have
been able to limit my desires nor be content, had I
not followed a path by which I felt sure of attaining
all the knowledge I should be capable of, and as well
all the real good which should ever be within my
power. Inasmuch as our will is never inclined to pur-
sue or to avoid anything except as our understand-
ing represents it as good or bad, all that is needed for
one to act rightly is that he judge correctly; and the
best judgment he can form is all that is necessary to
secure his best action, that is to say. the acquisition
of all the virtues, together with all other goods within
one's power : and when all that is assured, content-
ment must follow.
After I had thus become satisfied of the worth of
these maxims and had given them a place by them-
selves alongside the verities of the Faith, which have
always stood first in my belief, I judged that as for all
the rest of my opinions I might freely begin to rid
myself of them. And inasmuch as I hoped to be
able the better to bring this about by mingling with
my fellow-men than by staying any longer shut up in
$6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
the room where I had all these thoughts, the winter
was hardly well over before I set out on my travels
again. And in all the nine years that followed I did
nothing but roam from place to place, as a spectator
rather than an actor in the drama of life ; and while
I gave particular attention in each case to that in it
which afforded occasion for doubt, and wherein one
might be mistaken, at the same time I was rooting out
from my own mind the errors which had already in-
sinuated themselves. Not, however, that in so doing I
imitated the skeptics, who doubt only for doubt's sake,
and desire permanent uncertainty ; for, on the contrary,
my whole design tended only to assurance and to the
rejection of the shifting soil or sand, to find solid
foundation on the rock or the hard clay.
In this I was quite successful, as I thought, inas-
much as, in my endeavor to detect the falsity or un-
certainty of the propositions I was examining, not by
feeble conjecture, but by clear and sure reasoning,
I met with none so doubtful that I could not draw
from it some quite certain conclusion, even if it were
only this, that the proposition contained nothing cer-
tain. And as in pulling down an old house we gen-
erally save what is good of the ruins to use in build-
ing up the new one, so, while destroying all those
among my opinions which I decided to be ill-founded,
I made various observations and acquired many ex-
periences which since have been of use to me in es-
tablishing more certain ones. And, in addition, I
kept on practicing the method I had prescribed for
myself ; for besides taking care in general to conduct
all my thinking according to the rules, I reserved
from time to time certain hours which I spent in the
particular applications of it to the difficulties of
METHOD] THE DISCOURSE UPON METHOD. 57
mathematics, as well as to some others which I was
able to render quasi-mathematical, by detaching them
from all the principles of other sciences which I did
not find to be well established, as you shall see I have
done in many cases which are explained in this
volume.* And thus, without appearing to live differ-
ently from those who, having no occupation but to
live an agreeable and innocent life, devote themselves to
the dissevering of pleasures from vices, and who, to
enjoy their leisure without ennui, engage in all forms
of recreation which are honorable, I was still carry-
ing out my design, and making more progress in the
knowledge of truth than perhaps I should have done
by reading books or mingling with men of letters.
Nevertheless these nine years rolled away before I
had reached any decision on the questions commonly
in dispute among the learned, or had begun to seek
foundations for a philosophy more certain than that
in vogue. And the example of many men of excellent
minds, who formerly had the same design, but who
seemed to me not to have succeeded in it, led me
to imagine it a work of so much difficulty that per-
haps I should not so soon have dared to undertake
it, if I had not learned that certain persons were
already spreading the rumor abroad that I had accom-
plished it. I cannot say upon what they based their
opinion ; and if I contributed anything thereto in my
conversation, it must have been by my confessing my
ignorance more openly than those are wont to do
who have studied a little, and perhaps also by making
known the reasons I had for doubting of many things
which others held for certain, rather than of boasting
* The Dioptrics, the Meteors, and the Geometry originally ap-
peared in the same volume with the Discourse on Method.
58 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
of any new doctrine. But as I had too honest a soul
to wish to be taken for other than I was, I thought
I ought by all means to try to make myself worthy of
the reputation they had given me ; and this desire,
just eight years ago, made me resolve to abandon all
places where I might make acquaintances, and to
retire to this spot, in a country * where the long dura-
tion of the war has led to the establishment of such
order that the troops maintained here serve only to
make the people enjoy with the greater security the
blessings of peace, and where amid a great crowd of
people, very active and more interested in their own
affairs than curious in regard to those of others, with-
out lacking any of the conveniences to be found in the
most populous towns, I have been able to live as
solitary and retired as in the most remote deserts.f
* Holland, where he lived in many different villages from 1629
to 1649. See Kuno Fischer, Descartes, p. 207, trans.
f The remaining three parts of the Mtthode, which discuss
topics treated in other writings, may be found translated in the
work of Professor Veitch, which contains the Discourse entire.
RULES FOR THE DIRECTION OF THE
MIND.
RULES FOR THE DIRECTION OF THE
MIND.
RULE I. The end of studies should be the discipline
of the mind, such as shall enable it to pass true and solid
judgments upon any subject which may present itself.
Whenever men perceive a resemblance between two
things, they are wont to apply to both, even in re-
spects in which they differ, what they have found to
be true of either. In this way they compare, improp-
erly, the sciences, which consist solely of the work of
the mind, with the arts, which require definite practice
and a certain bodily aptitude. And as they see that
one man is not able to learn all arts at once, but that
he only becomes skillful in any who cultivates that
alone, since the same hands cannot successfully work
the soil and touch the lyre (and devote themselves at
the same time to employments so different), they
think that the same is true of the sciences, and, dis-
tinguishing them by the subjects of which they treat,
they believe it to be necessary to study each by itself,
apart from the rest. But this is a great mistake ; for
as the sciences all together are nothing but the human
intelligence, which always remains one and the same,
no matter what be the variety of the subjects to which
it applies itself, inasmuch as this variety changes its
nature no more than the diversity of objects upon
which it shines changes the nature of the sun, there is
no need of confining the human mind within any
limit. Indeed it is not the same with the knowledge
61
62 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
of a truth and the practice of an art ; one truth dis-
covered, far from being a hindrance to us, aids us in
discovering another. And certainly it seems to me
surprising that the greater part of men study with
diligence plants and their virtues, the courses of the
stars, the transformations of metals, and a thousand
similar objects, while hardly anyone occupies himself
with intelligence or this universal science of which
we are speaking ; and yet, if other studies have any
value, it is less on their own account than for the aid
which they afford to this. Accordingly it is not with-
out purpose that we place this rule at the head of the
whole list, for nothing diverts us from the truth
more than the directing of our efforts toward particu-
lar ends, instead of turning them upon this single uni-
versal end
It must be understood, at the outset, that the
sciences are so bound together that it is easier to
learn them all than to detach any one of them from
the rest. If, then, one wishes seriously to search for
truth, he need not devote himself to a single science ;
they all lie close together and depend one upon
another
RULE II. We should occupy ourselves only with
those subjects in reference to which the mind is cap-
able of acquiring certain and indubitable knowledge.
.... But if we rigidly adhere to our rule there will
remain but few things to the study of which we can
devote ourselves. There exists in the sciences hardly
a single question upon which men of intellectual ability
have not held different opinions. But whenever two
men pass contrary judgments on the same thing, it is
certain that one of the two is in the wrong. More than
that, neither of them has the truth ; for if one of them
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 63
had a clear and precise insight into it, he could so ex-
hibit it to his opponent as to end the discussion by
compelling his conviction. We cannot, then, hope
to attain complete knowledge of all those things upon
which only probable opinions exist, because we cannot
without presumption expect from ourselves more than
others have been able to accomplish. It follows from
this, if we reckon rightly, that among existing sciences
there remain only geometry and arithmetic, to which
the observance of our rule would bring us
Arithmetic and geometry are much more certain
than the other sciences, because the objects of them
are in themselves so simple and so clear that they need
not suppose anything which experience can call in
question, and both proceed by a chain of consequences
which reason deduces one from another. They are
also the easiest and the clearest of all the sciences, and
their object is such as we desire ; for, except from
want of attention, it is hardly supposable that a man
should go astray in them. We must not be surprised,
however, that many minds apply themselves by prefer-
ence to other studies, or to philosophy. Indeed every-
one allows himself more freely the right to make his
guess if the matter be dark than if it be clear, and it
is much easier to have on any question some vague
ideas than to arrive at the truth itself on the simplest
of all. From all this it must be concluded, not that
arithmetic and geometry are the only sciences to be
learned, but that he who seeks the path of truth must
not occupy himself with any subject upon which he
cannot have a knowledge equal in certainty to the dem-
onstrations of arithmetic and geometry.
RULE III. In regard to the subject of our studies we
should seek, not what others may have thought about
64 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
/'/, not what we ourselves may suspect to be true, but what
we can see clearly and with evidence, or deduce -with
certainty. This is the only way of arriving at scien-
tific truth. We never shall be mathematicians, al-
though we have learned by heart all the demon-
strations of others, if we are not able by ourselves
to solve every kind of problem. In like manner,
though we have read all the arguments of Plato and
Aristotle, we shall not be philosophers, if we are not
able to pass a solid judgment on any question what-
ever. In reality we should have learned, not a science,
but so much history Let us now declare the
means whereby our understanding can rise to knowl-
edge without fear of error. There are two such
means : intuition and deduction. By intuition I mean
not the varying testimony of the senses, nor the delu-
sive judgment of imagination naturally extravagant,
but the conception of an attentive mind so distinct and
so clear that no doubt remains to it with regard to that
which it comprehends ; or, what amounts to the same
thing, the self-evidencing conception of a sound and
attentive mind, a conception which springs from the
light of reason alone, and is more certain, because
more simple, than deduction itself, which, neverthe-
less, as I have said already, can be performed by any
man. Thus anyone can see intuitively that he exists;
that he thinks; that a triangle is bounded by three
sides, neither more nor less ; that a globe has but one
surface ; and so of many other things, which are more
numerous than one commonly thinks, because he does
not deign to attend to matters so simple It
may perhaps be asked why to intuition we add this
other mode of knowing, by deduction, that is to say,
the process which, from something of which we have
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 65
certain knowledge, draws consequences which neces-
sarily follow therefrom. But we are obliged to admit
this second step ; for there are a great many things
which, without being evident of themselves, neverthe-
less bear the mark of certainty if only they are de-
duced from true and incontestable principles by a con-
tinuous and uninterrupted movement of thought, with
'distinct intuition of each thing ; just as we know that
the last link of a long chain holds to the first, although
we cannot take in with one glance of the eye the in-
termediate links, provided that, after having run over
them in succession, we can recall them all, each as be-
ing joined to its fellows, from the first up to the last.
Thus we distinguish intuition from deduction, inas-
much as in the latter case there is conceived a certain
progress or succession, while it is not so in the former ;
and besides, deduction does not require present evi-
dence, like intuition, but borrows in some sort all its
certainty from memory ; whence it follows that primary
propositions, derived immediately from principles,
may be said to be known, according to the way we
view them, now by intuition, now by deduction ; al-
though the principles themselves can be known only by
intuition, the remote consequences only by deduction.
These are the two surest paths to knowledge ; the
mind ought not to follow any more than these ; it
ought to abandon all others as doubtful and liable to
lead to error : which, however, is not saying that the
truths of revelation are not the most certain of all our
knowledge ; for faith, which establishes them, is, as
in everything which is obscure, an act, not of the
intellect, but of the will, and if it have any founda-
tion whatever in human intelligence it is through one
of these two ways of which I have just spoken that
66 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. PART I
it can and should be discovered, as I shall some day
point out with more detail.
RULE IV. Necessity of method in the search for
truth. The minds of men are urged on by curiosity
so blind that they frequently enter upon paths unknown
to them, with no well-grounded expectation, but
merely to see whether what they are seeking for may.
not be there, very much as those do who in the insane
desire to find a treasure run about continually from
place to place, to see whether some traveler may not
have left one there : in such a spirit as this almost all
chemists, the majority of geometers, and a good num-
ber of philosophers, pursue their studies. And, indeed,
I do not deny that they have not sometimes the good
fortune to hit upon some truth ; but I do not on that
account admit that they are the more skillful, but only
the more fortunate. It is better even never to dream
of seeking truth, than to try to find it without method ;
for it is certain that studies without order and con-
fused meditations obscure the natural lights and blind
the mind. Those who accustom themselves thus to
walk in the dark so enfeeble the mental vision that they
cannot bear the light of day ; a truth confirmed by ex-
perience, since we see men who never have occupied
themselves with letters judge more soundly and more
correctly on what presents itself to their attention than
those do who have passed their lives in the schools.
But by method I mean sure and simple rules, which,
rigidly observed, will prevent our ever supposing what
is false to be true, and will cause the mind, without
ever consuming its energies to no purpose, and by
gradually increasing its knowledge, to raise itself to
exact knowledge of all that it is capable of attain-
ing.
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 67
These two points must be well noted, not to take the
false for the true, and to attempt to arrive at the knowl-
edge of all things. Indeed, if we are ignorant of any-
thing of all that we are able to know, it is because we
have never discovered any means which can conduct
us to such knowledge, or because we have fallen into
the opposite error. But if the method shows clearly
how intuition must be employed to avoid taking the
false for the true, and how deduction necessarily
operates to conduct us to the knowledge of all things,
it will be complete in my opinion, and nothing will be
wanting to it, since there is no science save by intui-
tion and deduction, as I have said above. Neverthe-
less, it cannot go the length of teaching how to per-
form these operations, because they are the simplest
and first of all ; so that, if our mind does not know in
advance how to perform them, it cannot understand
any of the rules of method, however simple they may
be. As for other mental operations which logic at-
tempts to lay down rules for in aid of these two first
means, they are here of no utility whatever ; more
than that, they must be classed as obstacles ; for noth-
ing can be added to the pure light of reason which
does not in a manner obscure it.
As the usefulness of this method is such that to de-
vote one's self to the study of letters without it is harm-
ful rather than useful, I am fond of thinking that for
a long time superior minds, left to their natural bent,
have had some glimpse of it. In truth the human
mind possesses a certain divine element, wherein are
lodged the first germs of useful knowledge, which in
spite of neglect and the constraint of ill-conducted
studies bear their spontaneous fruits. Of this we have
proof in the easiest of all the sciences, arithmetic and
68 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. PART I
geometry. Indeed it has been observed that the an-
cient geometers made use of a kind of analysis, which
they employed in the solution of problems, although
they begrudged to posterity the knowledge of it. And
do we not see flourishing a certain species of arithme-
tic, namely algebra, which has for its object to operate
upon numbers as the ancients operated upon forms?
But these two modes of analysis are nothing else than
spontaneous fruits of the principles of this natural
method, and I am not surprised that, when applied to
objects so simple, they should have proved more suc-
cessful than in other sciences, where greater obstacles
arrested their development ; still, even in those sciences,
had they been cultivated with diligence, they might
have attained a full maturity.
This is the design that I propose in this treatise.
Indeed, I should not attach very much importance to
these rules, if their only use was to solve certain prob-
lems with which calculators and geometers amuse them-
selves in their leisure moments. If this were the case,
what else should I be doing but to occupy myself with
trifles with, perhaps, more subtlety than others ? Again,
although in this treatise I speak often of forms and num-
bers, because there is no other science from which can
be taken examples more evident and more certain, he
who attentively follows my thought will see that I do
not in the least consider herein the ordinary mathe-
matics, but that I am revealing another method, of
which they are rather the veil than the inner reality.
Indeed it is to contain the first elements of human
reason, and to aid us in causing the truths confined
in any subject to come forth ; and, to speak freely, I
am convinced that it is superior to every other human
means of knowledge, because it is the origin and the
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 69
source of all truths. But I say that the mathematics
are the veil of this method, not that I wish to hide it
and wrap it up, to keep it from the vulgar ; on the con-
trary, I wish to clothe and adorn it in such a manner
that it shall be brought more within the grasp of the
mind.
When I began to devote myself to mathematics, I
had read most of the works of those who had cultivated
those sciences, and by preference I studied arithmetic
and geometry, because they were said to be the most
simple and, as it were, the key to all the other sciences j
but neither in the one nor in the other did I meet with
an author who completely satisfied me. I saw therein
divers propositions respecting numbers, the truth of
which, after the calculation was performed, I recog-
nized ; as to geometrical figures, many truths were
obvious at sight, and others were inferred by analogy ;
but it did not appear to me to be said with sufficient
clearness to the mind why things were as they were
shown to be, and by what means the discovery of
them was reached. Accordingly, I was not more
surprised that able and learned men should abandon
these sciences, when they had hardly blossomed out, as
being puerile and useless forms of knowledge, than
that they should be reluctant to devote themselves to
them as being difficult and embarrassing studies. In-
deed there is nothing more idle than to occupy one's
self with numbers and imaginary forms, if one means
to stop with the knowledge of such trifles ; and it is
idle to apply one's self to the superficial demonstra-
tions of them which chance more frequently than art
has brought to light to apply one's self thereto, I
mean, with so much diligence that one comes to dis-
like, in a manner, to make use of his own reason ; to
70 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. PART I
say nothing of the extreme difficulty of disentangling,
by that method, from the confusion of the numbers in
which they are involved, new complications which
may present themselves.
But when, on the other hand, I asked myself why
was it then that the earliest philosophers would admit
to the study of wisdom only those who had studied
mathematics, as if this science were the easiest of all
and the one most necessary for preparing and disci-
plining the mind to comprehend the more advanced, I
suspected that they had knowledge of a certain math-
ematical science different from that of our times.
Not that I believe that they had a perfect knowl-
edge of it ; their insensate transports and their religi-
ous sacrifices on occasion of the most trivial discoveries
show how much in their infancy these studies then
were. I am not more impressed by the eulogies which
historians lavished on some of their inventions, be-
cause, in spite of their simplicity, it is well understood
that the ignorant and easily astonished multitude had
praised them as prodigies. But I am persuaded that
certain primitive germs of truth which nature has
implanted in the human intellect, which we smother
in ourselves by much reading, and by receiving into
our minds errors so many and various, had, in that
simple, naive antiquity, so much vigor and vitality
that men enlightened by that light of reason, which
made them prefer virtue to pleasures, the honorable to
the useful, although they might not know the reason
of this preference, formed true ideas both of philos-
ophy and of mathematics, although they could not at
that time advance those sciences to perfection.
I believe I find some traces of these true math-
ematics in Pappus and Diophantes, who, although they
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 71
are not of extreme antiquity, lived nevertheless in
times long preceding ours. But I willingly believe
that these writers themselves, by a culpable ruse, sup-
pressed the knowledge of them ; like some artisans
who conceal their secret, they feared, perhaps, that the
ease and simplicity of their method, if become popu-
lar, would diminish its importance, and they preferred
to make themselves admired by leaving to us, as the
product of their art, certain barren truths deduced
with subtlety, rather than to teach us that art itself, the
knowledge of which would end our admiration. In-
deed, certain men of great intellect in this age have
attempted to disclose this method ; for it appears to
be nothing else than what is called by the barbarous
name of algebra, which needs only to be disengaged
from that crowd of signs and those unintelligible
figures which overwhelm it, to have imparted to it that
clearness and supreme facility which, in our view,
ought to characterize it as a branch of true mathe-
matics.
When these reflections had withdrawn me from the
special study of arithmetic and geometry, with a view
to summon myself to the search for a science of math-
ematics in general, I asked myself, in the first place,
what precisely was the meaning of this word mathe-
matics, and why arithmetic and geometry only, and
not also astronomy, music, optics, mechanics, and so
many other sciences, should be considered as forming
a part of it ; for it is not enough here to know the
etymology of the word. In reality the word mathe-
matics meaning nothing but science, those which I
have just named have as much right as geometry to
be called mathematics; and nevertheless there is no
one, however little instructed, who cannot distinguish
72 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
at once what belongs to mathematics, properly so
called, from what belongs to the other sciences. But on
reflecting attentively upon these things, I discovered
that all the sciences which have for their end investi-
gations concerning order and measure, are related to
mathematics, it being of small importance whether
this measure be sought in numbers, forms, stars,
sounds, or any other object ; that, accordingly, there
ought to exist a general science which should explain
all that can be known about order and measure, con-
sidered independently of any application to a particu-
lar subject, and that, indeed, this science has its own
proper name, consecrated by long usage, to wit,
mathematics; since it contains that in consideration of
which the other sciences are said to form a part of
mathematics. And a proof that it far surpasses in
facility and importance the sciences which depend
upon it is that it embraces at once all the objects to
which these are devoted and a great many others
besides ; and consequently, if it contain any difficul-
ties, these exist in the rest, which have themselves
the peculiar ones arising from their particular subject-
matter, and which do not exist for the general science.
Now, since everybody knows the name of this
science, since the object of it is conceived without
even thinking much upon it, how comes it about that
the knowledge of other sciences, which depend upon
this, is painfully sought, and that no one puts himself
to the trouble of studying this science itself? I should
certainly be surprised, if I did not know that every-
body regarded it as being very easy, and if I had not
long ago observed that the human mind, neglecting
what it believes to be easy, is always in haste to run
after what is novel and advanced. As for me, who
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 73
am conscious of my weakness, I resolved, in the pur-
suit of knowledge, constantly to observe such an
order that, beginning always with the simplest and
the easiest branches, I should never take a step in
advance to pass on to others, so long as I thought
anything was still to be desired in respect to the first.
That is why I have cultivated, up to this day, as well
as I was able, this universal mathematical science, so
that I believe I am able to devote myself in the future
to sciences more advanced, with no fear of my efforts
being premature
RULE V. The whole method consists in the order
and arrangement of the subjects upon which the mind
is to exert itself with the view to attain truth. To
follow it, // is necessary to reduce, by degrees, compli-
cated and obscure propositions to the most simple, and
to proceed again from the intuition of these last, in
order to arrive, in the same gradual manner, at the
knowledge of others. The perfection of method con-
sists in this alone, and this rule must be observed as
faithfully by him who would enter into science as the
thread of Theseus must be held by one who would
penetrate the labyrinth. But many do not reflect on
what method directs them to do, or else ignore it com-
pletely, or take it for granted that they have no need
of it ; and they often discuss the most difficult
subjects with so little order that they may be
likened to one who would spring to the top of a high
building at a bound, paying no attention to the stair-
way which leads up to it, or not perceiving that there
is any. In this way the astrologers proceed who, with-
out knowing the nature of the stars, without even hav-
ing carefully observed their motions, hope to be able
to determine their influences. In the same way pro-
74 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
ceed many who study mechanics without understand-
ing physics, and undertake in a haphazard way to
make new machines ; and most philosophers do the
same thing who, neglecting the study of facts, imagine
that truth will spring out of their brains, like Minerva
from the head of Jupiter
RULE VI. To distinguish the simpler things from
those which are more complex, it is necessary, in every
series of objects, or in every case where ive have deduced
some truths from others, to take note of the simplest of
all, and to observe how all the rest stand removed from
this, whether more or less or equally.
Although this rule may appear to teach nothing new,
it nevertheless contains the whole secret of the method,
and there is none more useful in this entire treatise.
It teaches us that all things may be arranged in differ-
ent series, not in so far as they belong to some kind of
existence (a division which finds place in the categor-
ies of philosophers), but in so far as they can be under-
stood one by means of another, so that, when we en-
counter a difficulty, we can tell whether it concerns
things in which it is for our advantage to examine
those preceding, up to the first, and in what order
this must be done. But in order to do this rightly, it
must be observed at once that in view of the applica-
tion of our rule, which does not consider things in
isolation, but compares them one with another, in order
to understand one by means of another, they maybe
called either absolute or relative. I call absolute what-
ever is a simple, indecomposable element of the sub-
ject* under consideration ; as, for example, all that is
viewed as being independent, viz., cause, simple, univer-
sal, one, equal, similar, right, etc. ; and I say that what-
ever is more simple is whatever is more easy to compre-
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 75
head, and what we might make use of in the solution
of problems. I call relative whatever is of the same
nature, or at least by one side is joined to the absolute,
so that it can be traced to it and deduced from it.
But this term includes also certain other things which
I call relations, such as all that is embraced under the
terms dependent, viz., effect, composite, particular,
multiple, unequal, dissimilar, oblique, etc. These rela-
tions are removed from the absolute in proportion as
they contain the greater number of relations subordi-
nate to them relations which our rule recommends
that we distinguish one from another, and take note
of, in their connections and mutual order, so that by
proceeding step by step through all we may be able
to arrive in due succession at that which is most ab-
solute.
But the whole art consists in seeking always for the
most absolute. In reality, certain things seen from
one point of view are more absolute than as seen from
another ; and looked at in another way, they are more
relative. Thus the universal is more absolute than
the particular, because its nature is more simple ; but
at the same time it can be said to be more relative, be-
cause it requires individuals for its existence. More-
over, certain things are indeed more absolute than
others, but not the most absolute of all. If we regard
individuals, the species is absolute ; if we regard the
genus, it is relative. In mensurable bodies, extension
is the absolute ; but, in extension, it is length, etc.
Indeed, to make it more apparent that we are con-
sidering things here, not in respect to their individual
nature, but in respect to the series in which we place
them in order to understand one by means of another,
we have designedly put in the number of things abso-
76 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
lute, cause and equality, although by their nature they
are relatives ; for, in the language of philosophers,
cause and effect are two correlative terms. Neverthe-
less, if we wish to know what effect is, we must first
know what cause is, and not effect before cause. So
things equal correspond to one another ; but to know
the unequal, it must be compared with the equal.
It is to be observed, in the second place, that there
are a few simple necessary elements that we can per-
ceive by themselves, independently of all others, I do
not say at first, but by the aid of experience and the
lighjt which is in us. Also I say that it is necessary
to observe these with care ; for it is these which we
call the most simple of each series. All the rest can
be perceived only by deducing them from these,
whether immediately and proximately, or after one or
two conclusions or a greater number, conclusions the
number of which it is necessary still to note, in order
to know whether they are removed by more or fewer
steps from the first and simplest proposition ; such
throughout must be the concatenation, which is to
produce that orderly succession of problems to
which every inquiry methodically conducted must
be reduced. But inasmuch as it is not easy to
recall all these steps, and it is less important to retain
them in memory than to be able by a certain penetra-
tion of mind to discern them, it is necessary to train
the mind so that it shall be able to retrace them when
there is need. But I have discovered that the best
way to succeed in this is to accustom ourselves to re-
flect with attention on the least things which we have
previously ascertained.
Let us observe, in the third place, that it is not
necessary to begin our investigation by an inquiry into
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 77
difficult matters ; but before undertaking a problem,
to take at random and without deliberation the first
truths which present themselves, to see whether from
these others may not be deduced, and from these
latter others still, and so on. This done, we must
reflect attentively on the truths already found, and
carefully observe why we were able to discover some
before the rest, and more easily, and note what they
are. Thus, when we approach any question whatever,
we shall know with what inquiry it will be necessary
to begin. For example, I see that the number 6 is
the double of 3 ; I seek the double of 6, that is to say
12 ; I seek next the double of this, that is to say 24,
and of that, or 48 ; and thence I deduce, which is not
difficult, that there is the same proportion between 3
and 6 as between 6 and 1 2, and between 1 2 and 24, etc.,
and thus the numbers 3, 6, 12, 24, 48, are in a continu-
ous proportion. Although all these things are so sim-
ple that they seem almost puerile, they explain to me,
when I reflect upon them attentively, how complicated
are all questions having to do with proportions, and
with the relations of things, and in what order their
solution is to be sought, which contains the whole
science of the pure mathematics
RULE VII. In order to make knowledge complete, it
is necessary the mind should run over, in a movement un-
interrupted atid orderly, all matters pertaining to the end
in view, and then sum them up in a methodical and
sufficient enumeration.
The observance of this rule is necessary to enable
one to place among certainties those truths which, as
we have said above, are not immediately deduced from
self-evident principles. They are reached, indeed, by
means of a train of consequences so long that it is not
78 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
easy to retrace the path we have followed. Accord-
ingly we say that the faculty of memory must be aided
by a constant effort of thought. If, for example,
after various operations, I discover the relation be-
tween the quantities A and B, then between B and C,
next between C and D, finally between D and E, I do
not thereby perceive the relation between A and E,
and I cannot with certainty infer it from the relations
known, unless my memory represents them all to me.
So 1 run through the series in such a way that imagi-
nation at the same time sees one and passes on to the
next, until I can go from first to last with such rapidity
that, almost without the aid of memory, I can seize
the whole at one glance. This method, while relieving
the memory, corrects the sluggishness of the mind and
enlarges its range. I add that the movement of the
mind must not be interrupted ; often those who
try to draw conclusions too rapidly from remote prin-
ciples are unable to follow the chain of intermediate
deductions with sufficient care to prevent some escap-
ing them. And yet, if one consequence, though it be
the least important of all, has been forgotten, the chain
is broken, and the certainty of the conclusion is
shaken.
I say further that knowledge needs enumeration to
complete it. Indeed, the other precepts are of use in
solving an infinity of problems ; but enumeration alone
can enable us to pass, upon any subject which may en-
gage our attention, a safe and well-founded judgment,
in consequence of its allowing absolutely nothing to
escape, and having certain evidence in respect to
everything. But enumeration, or induction, here
means careful and exact scrutiny of all that relates to
the question proposed. But this scrutiny must be
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 79
such that we can conclude with certainty that we have
omitted nothing by oversight. When, then,. we have
employed it, and still the difficulty is not cleared up, \ve
shall be at least so much the wiser that we shall know
that the solution cannot be reached by any of the
ways known to us ; and if perchance what may often
enough happen we have been able to traverse all the
paths open to man for arriving at truth, we shall be
able to say with assurance that the solution surpasses
the range of human intelligence. It must be observed
further that by sufficient enumeration or induction we
understand the means which conduct us to truth more
surely than any other, except intuition pure and sim-
ple. Indeed, if the case is such that we cannot take
it back to intuition, we must not rely upon syllogistic
forms, but upon induction alone. For in all cases
when we have deduced propositions immediately one
from another, if the deduction has been evident, they
will be traceable to a true intuition. But if we deduce
a proposition from numerous other propositions,
disconnected and multiform, it frequently happens
that our intellectual capacity is not such that it
can take in the whole at one view ; in this case we
must be satisfied with the certainty of the induction.
Just as when we are unable at one glance to take in
all the links of a long chain, yet if we have seen that
each is linked to the next, this warrants us in saying
that the first is joined to the last
But in some cases this enumeration must be com-
plete, in others distinct; in others it need have neither
of these two characters, but, as I have said, it must be
sufficient. For example, if I wish to prove how many
corporeal or sensible existences there are, I shall not
say that there is such a number, neither more nor
8o THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
less, until I certainly know that I have taken every
one into account and distinguished each from the
others. But if I wish, by the same method, to prove
that the rational soul is not corporeal, it will not be
necessary for the enumeration to be complete ; but
it will be sufficient if I collect all bodies under certain
classes, and show that the soul cannot belong to any
one of them. If, finally, I wish to demonstrate by
enumeration that the superficies of a circle is greater
than that of any other figure of equal perimeter, I
shall not pass in review all the figures, but I shall
content myself with the proof of what I lay down
concerning certain figures, and conclude the same by
induction for all the rest. I said further that the
enumeration should be methodical, because there is
no better way of avoiding the defects of which we
have spoken than to introduce order into our in-
quiries, and because, if we had to seek by itself each
thing related to the principal object of our inquiry,
it would frequently happen that a whole lifetime
would be insufficient for it, whether on account of the
number of the objects or the frequent recurrence of
the same objects. But if we arrange all things in the
best order, they will be seen most frequently to form
fixed and determinate classes, of which it will be
sufficient to know one only, or to know this rather
than that, or simply something of one of them ; and
at least we shall not have to retrace our steps to no
purpose. This method is so good that by means of
it one may in the end attain without difficulty, and in
a short time, a knowledge which at the start might
have seemed immense.
Finally our last three propositions must not be sepa-
rated, but must be kept all together before the mind,
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 81
because they contribute equally to the perfection of
the method. It matters little which we place first ;
and if we do not here develop them further, it is be-
cause that in the remainder of this treatise we have
scarcely anything else to do than to explain them,
by showing the particular application of the general
principles we have just laid down.
RULE VIII. If in the course of our investigations
anything presents itself which the mind cannot perfectly
comprehend., we must stop at that point and not examine
what comes next, but spare ourselves fruitless labor.
This rule follows necessarily from reasons which
support the second. Yet it must not be regarded
as containing nothing new for the advancement of
knowledge, although it might seem merely to dissuade
us from the pursuit of certain things ; nor that it
teaches no truth whatever, because it appears merely
to warn students not to lose their time, by almost the
same motive as the second. But those who perfectly
comprehend the seven preceding rules can by this
learn how in every science it is possible for them to
reach a point beyond which there remains nothing
further to be desired. He, in fact, who in the solution
of a difficulty has followed exactly the preceding rules,
warned by this to stop somewhere, will understand
that there is no means of attaining what he is seeking;
and that not through any defect of his mind, but on
account of the nature of the difficulty, or of our human
limitations. But the recognition of this fact is no less
a part of true knowledge than whatever throws light
on the nature of things, and surely it is no proof of a
good mind to urge its curiosity beyond this point.
Let us illustrate all this by one or two examples.
If a man versed only in mathematics is investi-
82 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
gating the line called in dioptrics the anaclastic^ in
which parallel rays are refracted in such a manner
that after refraction they all meet in one point, he
will easily see, according to the fifth and sixth rules,
that the determination of this line depends on the
relation of the angles of refraction to the angles of
incidence. But when he finds himself unable to make
this investigation, which does not come within the
jurisdiction of mathematics, but of physics, he ought
to stop there, where it would be of no avail to seek
the solution of the difficulty from philosophers and
from experience. In accepting the opinions of others
he would violate the third rule. Besides, the case is
composite and relative ; whereas it is only in things
simple and absolute that we ought to accept experi-
ence (as authority), a position we shall make good in
its proper place. Further, it will be to no purpose for
him to suppose among these various angles a relation
which he shall suspect to be the true one ; that would
not be seeking the anaclastic, but merely a line which
might tally with his supposition.
But if a man knowing something besides mathe-
matics, desiring to know the truth, according to the
first rule, about everything which may present itself
to him, has met with the same difficulty, he will go on
further, and will find out that the relation between
the angles of incidence and the angles of refraction
depends upon their variation occasioned by the vary-
ing of the media ; that this variation in its turn depends
on the medium, because the ray of light penetrates
through the whole of the transparent body ; he will
see that this property of thus penetrating a body re-
quires the nature of light to be understood ; that
finally, to understand the nature of light, it is neces-
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 83
sary to know what in general a natural power is, the
last and most absolute term of this whole series of
inquiries. After he has seen all these propositions
clearly, by the aid of intuition, he will go back over
the same steps again, according to the fifth rule ; and if
at the second step he cannot at once comprehend the
nature of light, he will enumerate, according to the
seventh rule, all the other natural powers, in order
that through the knowledge of one of them he may
be able at least to deduce by analogy the knowledge
of the one of which he is ignorant. This done, he
will inquire how the ray of light traverses a perfectly
transparent medium, and, thus following the order of
the propositions, he will at last arrive at the anaclas-
tic itself, which many philosophers, it is true, have
hitherto sought in vain, but which, in our opinion,
presents no difficulty to him who will avail himself of
our method.
But let us give the noblest example of all. Let a
man propose to himself, as a problem, the investiga-
tion of all the truths of the knowledge of which
the human mind is capable, a problem which, in my
opinion, all those who are in earnest in their desire
to attain wisdom, ought, at least once in their lives,
to propose to themselves ; he will find, by the help of
the rules I have given, that the first thing to be
known is intelligence itself, since upon this depends
the knowledge of all other things, and not recipro-
cally. Next investigating what immediately follows
the knowledge of pure intellect, he will pass in re-
view all the other means of knowing which we pos-
sess, intellect excepted ; he will find that there are
only two, imagination and the senses. He will then
give his whole attention to the examination and dis-
84 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
tinction of these three means of knowing ; and per-
ceiving that, properly speaking, truth and error can
exist only in the intellectual activity by itself, and
that the other two modes of knowing furnish only
the occasions for its exercise, he will carefully avoid
all that can lead him astray, and he will consider all
the ways open to man for arriving at truth, in order
to follow the right one. But these are not so numer-
ous that he cannot easily discover them all by a suffi-
cient enumeration
But there is here no question more important to be
settled than to know what human knowledge is, and
how far it extends,* two things which we combine in
one and the same question, which must be considered
before anything else, according to the rules given
above. There is here a question which a man must
examine once in his life, if he love the truth, though
but little, because this inquiry contains the whole
method and, as it were, the true instrument of science.
Nothing appears to me more absurd than boldly to
argue concerning the mysteries of nature, the influ-
ence of the stars, the secrets of the future, without
once having raised the question whether the human
mind is competent to these things. And it should
not seem to us a difficult and arduous task thus to fix
the limits of our mind of which we have conscious-
ness, when we are deliberating about passing a judg-
ment upon things external to us, and which are com-
pletely foreign to us. It is not a labor any greater
than to seek to embrace in thought the objects which
* Cf. Kuno Fischer, Descartes and his School, p. 495 trans. ;
Locke's Essay Upon the Human Understanding, Epistle to the
Reader; Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, Introduction.
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 85
this world includes, in order to understand how each
of them may be comprehended by our mind. In re-
ality there is nothing so multiform and so scattered
which cannot be brought within certain limits, and re-
duced to a certain number of main divisions, by means
of the enumeration we have described. To make trial
of it, in the question above proposed, we shall divide
into two parts all that relates thereto ; it is relative,
in fact, either to us, who have the capacity of know-
ing ; or to things, which may be known : these two
points shall be treated separately. And at the out-
set we observe that in us intellect alone is capable of
knowledge, but that it may be hindered or helped by
three other faculties ; to wit, imagination, the senses,
and memory. It is necessary then to see succes-
sively, wherein these faculties can harm us, in order
to avoid it, and wherein they can serve us, in order to
profit by it. This first point shall be completely
treated by a sufficient enumeration, according as the
following rule shall make it appear.
It is then necessary to pass to objects themselves, and
to consider them only in so far as our intelligence can
deal with them. Under this relation we divide them into
things simple and things complex or composite. The
simple can be only spiritual or corporeal, or spiritual
and corporeal at the same time. The composite are of
two sorts; the one the mind discovers before it is able
to say anything positive of them ; it constructs the
other itself, a process which shall be set forth more at
length in the twelfth rule, where it will be shown that
error can be found only in things which the intellect has
put together. Let us also divide these last into two
species, those which are deduced from things the most
86 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
simple, which are known by themselves ; to which we
devote the next book * : and those which presuppose
others, which experience teaches us are essentially com-
posite ; the third book shall be entirely devoted to
them. But in this entire treatise we shall attempt to
follow with exactness and make plain the paths which
can conduct man to the discovery of truth, so that the
most ordinary mind, provided it shall be profoundly
penetrated with this method, shall see that truth is in-
terdicted to him no more than to anybody else, and that
if he is ignorant of anything it is not the fault of his
mind or of his capacity. f But whenever he shall desire
to know anything, either he will discover it at once,
or, perhaps, he will find that his knowledge depends
on an experiment which it is not within his power to
make ; and then he will not blame his mind because
it is forced to arrest its activity so soon ; or, finally,
he will perceive that the thing sought lies beyond the
range of human intellect, and, in that case, he will not
think himself more ignorant, because to have arrived
at this result is in itself a piece of knowledge worth
as much as another.
RULE IX. // is necessary to direct the whole energy of
the mind upon things which are easiest and least impor-
tant, and to hold it there for a long time until the habit is
acquired of seeing truth clearly and distinctly.
* The second and third books probably were never written.
j- Cf. Lord Bacon's estimate of the value of his own method.
" Our method of discovering the sciences is such as to leave little
to the acuteness and strength of wit, and indeed rather to level
wit and intellect. For as in the drawing of a straight line or ac-
curate circle by the hand, much depends upon its steadiness and
practice, but if a ruler or compass be employed there is little occa-
sion for either ; so it is with our method. " Novum Organum,
bk. i, 61.
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 87
Having set forth the two mental operations, intui-
tion and deduction, the only ones which can conduct
us to knowledge, we shall continue to explain, in this
rule and the next, the means by which we can become
skillful in the performance of these processes, and at
the same time cultivate the two principal talents of
the mind, viz., perspicacity, through the distinct en-
visaging of each thing, and sagacity, through the skill-
ful deducing of one thing from another. The way in
which we use our eyes is sufficient to make us under-
stand how to employ intuition. He who is bent on
taking in many things at one look sees nothing dis-
tinctly ; in the same way, he who, in one act of
thought, would attend to many objects at once, con-
fuses his mind. On the other hand, workmen who
are employed on delicate operations, and who are ac-
customed to look attentively at each point in particular,
acquire, by practice, the ability to see the smallest and
finest objects. Likewise those who do not expend
their thought upon a thousand different things, but
who employ its whole energy in the consideration of
the simplest and easiest, acquire great quickness of
apprehension
RULE X. In order that the mind may acquire facility,
it must be exercised in finding out things which others
have already discovered, and in practicing in a methodical
way even the commonest arts, especially those which exhibit
order or require it.
I confess that I was born with such a mental dispo-
sition that my greatest happiness in studies consisted
not in following the arguments of others, but in finding
them out for myself. This disposition of itself, while
I was still young, interested me in scientific studies ;
and whenever any book promised me by its title a
THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
new discovery, before going on to read it I tried
whether my own natural sagacity might not be able
to conduct me to something similar, and I took great
care that too much reading should not beguile me of
this innocent pleasure. I succeeded in this so many
times that I was conscious at last of reaching truth
no longer as other men do, after blind and uncertain
efforts, rather by a stroke of good luck than by art,
but long experience taught me certain fixed rules, which
aid me wonderfully, and of which I have reaped the
advantage in finding out many truths. Accordingly
I have practiced this method with diligence, persuaded
that from the beginning I have followed the most use-
ful course.
But inasmuch as all minds are not equally qualified
to discover truth by themselves atone, this rule
teaches us that one must not occupy himself at the
start with the most difficult and arduous subjects,
but begin with arts the least important and the most
simple, those, above all, where order reigns, such as
the trades of the maker of tapestry, of the weaver, of
the women who embroider or make lace ; such as,
also, combinations of numbers, and everything which
relates to arithmetic : as many other similar arts,
which as wonderfully exercise the mind, provided we
are not indebted to others for the knowledge of them,
but discover them for ourselves. Indeed, while they
contain nothing obscure, and are perfectly within the
range of human intelligence, they make distinctly
manifest to us innumerable methods, diverse from each
other, and nevertheless regular. But it is in the rig-
orous observance of sequence that almost all human
sagacity consists. Accordingly we have enjoined the
necessity of examining these things methodically ; but
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 89
method, in these subordinate arts, is nothing else
than the constant observance of the order which
exists in them, or which a happy invention has put
there
It is necessary, then, to make a beginning with easy
things, but with method, in order to accustom our-
selves to penetrate by means of open and familiar
paths, as if in sport, to the innermost truth of these
things. By this means we shall, insensibly and in
a shorter time than we might expect, become capa-
ble of deducing with equal facility from self-evident
principles a great number of propositions which might
seem to us very difficult and very complicated. Many
persons, perhaps, are surprised that, while we are
considering the means whereby we are enabled to
deduce truths one from another, we omit to speak of
the rules of the logicians, who think to direct human
reason by prescribing to it certain formulas of reason-
ing so conclusive that the mind which trusts to their
guidance, although it may dispense with giving close
attention to the deduction itself, is yet enabled by
the form alone to reach a certain conclusion. We
observe however that truth often escapes the confining
forms, while those who employ them remain bound
by them. This does not happen so often to those
who do not make use of them, and our experience
proves that the most subtle sophisms deceive only
the sophists, almost never those who use their simple
reason.
Accordingly, fearing that reason may give us the
slip when we are on the search for truth in some
matter, we reject all these formulas as opposed to
our design, and collect together only what will help
us in keeping our thought attentive, as we shall
go THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
show in the sequel. But to produce the more com-
plete conviction that this syllogistic art is of no use
in the discovery of truth, it needs only to be observed
that logicians cannot form a syllogism yielding a truth
in its conclusion without having the matter of it
beforehand, that is to say, without having known in
advance the truth which the syllogism develops.
Whence it follows that this form can yield them
nothing new ; and, therefore, that the common logic is
entirely useless to him who wishes to discover truth,
but is of advantage only in setting forth more readily
to others truths already known, and, therefore, it
should be transferred from philosophy to rhetoric.
RULE XI. When by intuition we have assured our-
selves of the truth of certain simple propositions, if we
are to proceed to draw conclusions therefrom, it is of no
use to go on without arresting for a moment the progress
of our thought, hi order to reflect upon the mutual rela-
tions of these truths, and to bring as many as possible of
these relations before the mind in one view : by this
means we give to our knowledge more certainty and to
our thought greater breadth.
Here is the place to explain more clearly what we
have said of intuition in the third and seventh rules.
In the one we opposed it to deduction, in the other
merely to enumeration, which we defined the collect-
ing together of many distinct things, while the simple
operation of deducing of one thing from another was
accomplished by intuition. This must be the case ;
for we require two conditions for intuition, to wit, that
the proposition should appear clear and distinct, next
that it be comprehended as a whole at once and not
part by part. Deduction, on the contrary, if we are
considering its formation, as in the third rule, does
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 91
not appear to operate instantaneously, but it implies
a certain movement of the mind inferring one thing
from another ; accordingly in that rule we were right
in distinguishing it from intuition. But if we con-
sider it as accomplished, in accordance with what we
said in the seventh rule, then it no longer designates
a movement, but the limit of a movement. Accord-
ingly, let us suppose that it [the deduction] is per-
ceived by intuition when it is simple and clear, but
not when it is manifold and involved. Then we gave
it the name enumeration and induction, because it
cannot be comprehended in one whole at a glance of
the mind, but its certainty depends in some measure
on the memory, whose function is to hold in the mind
the judgments passed on each of the parts in order
that a single judgment may be concluded from
them.
All these distinctions are necessary for the under-
standing of this rule. The ninth having treated of
intuition, and the tenth of enumeration, the present
rule shows how these two rules aid and complete each
other, so that they seem to make but one, by virtue
of a movement of thought which considers attentively
each object and at the same time passes on to others.
We find in this the double advantage, on the one
hand, of knowing with more certainty the conclusion
with which we are concerned, and, on the other, of
rendering the mind more skillful in the discovery of
others. Indeed the memory upon which we said de-
pends the certainty of conclusions too complex for
intuition to take in at a single view ; the memory,
feeble and wandering by nature, needs to be renewed
and reenforced by this continual and repeated move-
ment of thought. Thus when, after many operations,
92 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
I have come to recognize the relation between, a first
and a second quantity, between a second and a third,
between a third and a fourth, finally between a fourth
and a fifth, I do not thereby foresee the relation of the
first to the fifth, and I cannot deduce it from the rela-
tions already known without recalling them all. It
is therefore necessary that my thought run over them
anew, until at last I am able to pass from the first to
the last so quickly as to seem, almost without the aid
of memory, to embrace the whole in a single intuition.
This method, as everyone knows, corrects the slug-
gishness of the mind, and also increases its grasp. But
it must be noticed further that the usefulness of this
rule consists principally in this, that by accustoming
ourselves to reflect upon the mutual dependence of
simple propositions, we acquire facility in distinguish-
ing at a glance the more or the less relative and per-
ceiving the steps by which they are to be brought
back to the absolute
RULE XII. Finally, all the resources of intellect, of
imagination, of the senses, of memory, must be employed,
in order to have a distinct intuition of simple propositions,
to compare suitably w/iat is sought with what is known,
and to find out the things which are thus to be compared
together; in a word, no one of the means of knowledge
with which the human mind is provided, is to be neglected.
This rule includes all that has been said above, and
shows in a general way what is to be particularly ex-
plained. For the attainment of knowledge, only two
things are to be taken into account: we who know, and
the objects which are to be known. There are within
us four faculties which we can employ in knowing; the
intellect, the imagination, the senses, and the memory.
The intellect alone is capable of conceiving truth. It
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 93
must, nevertheless, avail itself of the imagination, the
senses, and the memory, in order not to leave unem-
ployed any of our means of knowledge. So far as
concerns the objects themselves, three things only are
to be considered : first, we must see what presents
itself to us spontaneously; then how one thing is
known by means of another ; finally, what things are
deduced from others, and from what they are deduced.
This enumeration seems to me to be complete. It
embraces all that the faculties of man can attain. . . .
It is to be conceived, first of all, that the external
senses, in so far as they form part of the body, although
we direct them to objects by our own action that is
to say, by means of local movement never perceive
except passively ; that is to say, in the same way
as wax receives the impression of a seal. And it must
not be supposed that this comparison is to be taken
merely in the way of analogy, but it is to be conceived
that the external form of the body, in perceiving, is
really modified by the object in the same way that the
surface of the wax is modified by the seal. This is
true not only when we touch a body in respect to
its figure, hardness, roughness, etc., but also when
through contact we perceive heat and cold. The
same is true of the other senses
In the second place, it is to be conceived that at the
instant when the external sense is set in motion by
the object, the form which it receives is borne to an-
other part of the body which is called the common
sense; and that instantaneously, and without their
being a real passing of anything from one point to an-
other ; just as, while I am writing, I know that at the
instant when each letter is traced upon the paper, not
only the point of the pen is in motion, but also that it
94 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
cannot receive the least motion which is not simulta-
neously communicated to the entire pen, the upper
part of which describes in the air the same figures^
although nothing real passes from one end to the
other. But who can suppose the connection of the
parts of the human body less complete than that of
the pen, and where shall we find an image more sim-
ple to represent it ?
It is to be conceived, in the third place, that the
common sense plays the part of the seal, which im-
prints on the imagination, as upon wax, those forms
or ideas which the external senses convey to it pure
and incorporeal ; that this imagination is a true part
of the body, and of such extent that its different parts
can take on many forms distinct one from another,
and even retain the impression of them for a long
time ; in this case it is called memory.
In the fourth place it is to be conceived that the
moving force, or the nerves themselves, have their
origin in the brain, which contains the imagination
which moves them in a thousand ways, as the common
sense is moved by the external sense, or the entire
pen by its lower end ; an example which shows how
imagination can be the cause of a great number of
movements in the nerves without its being necessary
that it should have the impression of them in itself,
provided that it have other impressions from which
these movements may result ; in fact, the entire pen
is not moved just as the point is. Rather, it ap-
pears, through the main part of it, to follow an exactly
opposite inverted movement. This explains the
origin of all movements of all animals, although we
ascribe to them no knowledge of things, but simply
imagination purely corporeal, and also the production
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 95
in ourselves of all those operations which do not
require the aid of reason.
Finally, in the fifth place, it is to be conceived that
this energy, whereby, in the proper sense, we know
objects, is purely spiritual, and is no less distinct from
the entire body than is the blood from the bones and
the hand from the eye ; that it is one and identical,
whether with the imagination it receives the forms
which the common sense conveys to it, or applies
itself to those which the memory keeps in store, or
fashions new ones which seize upon the imagination
so powerfully that it cannot at the same time receive
the ideas which the common sense is bringing to it,
or transmit them to the active powers, according to
the mode of disposing of them which is proper to it.
In all these cases the energy which knows is some-
times passive and sometimes active ; now it resembles
the seal and again the wax a comparison, however,
which must be regarded as merely an analog}'-, because
among material objects there is nothing which re-
sembles it. It is always one and the same energy
which, when applying itself, together with imagination,
to the common sense, is called seeing, touching, etc. ;
to the imagination, in so far as it revives the various
forms [of sense], is called remembering ; to the imagi-
nation which creates new forms, is called imagining or
conceiving ; which, lastly, when it acts alone, is called
comprehending, which we shall explain more at length
in its proper place.
Also, by reason of these different faculties, it
receives the different names of pure intellect, imagina-
tion, memory, sensibility. It is properly called mind
when it forms in the imagination new ideas, or when
it applies itself to those already formed there, and we
g6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
consider it as the cause of these different operations.
It will be necessary further on to note the distinction
in these terms. All these things being once well un-
derstood, the attentive reader will have no trouble as
to deciding what assistance each one of these faculties
can afford us, and up to what point art can supply the
natural defects of the mind. For, as the intellect can
be moved by the imagination, and act upon it, as this
latter in its turn can act upon the senses aiding the
will in applying them to objects, and as the senses, on
the other hand, act upon it by painting images of
bodily objects there ; as memory, moreover, at least
that which is corporeal and which resembles the
memory of brutes, is identical with imagination ; it fol-
lows therefrom that when intellect is occupied with
things which have no corporeal nature, nor anything
analogous thereto, it will look in vain for help from
these faculties. More than that, in order that its'
action be not hindered, it is necessary to banish the
senses, and to deprive the imagination, so far as pos-
sible, of every distinct impression.
If, on the contrary, the intellect propose to itself to
examine something which can be referred to a body,
it must form in the imagination the most distinct idea
possible of it. To succeed in this more easily, it must
exhibit to the external senses the same object which
this idea represents. A plurality of objects will not
facilitate distinct intuition of an individual object ;
but if from this plurality it is desired to separate an
individual, as is often necessary, the imagination must
be relieved of all that which would divide the atten-
tion, in order that what remains may be the more
deeply graven on the memory. In the case of mem-
ory itself, it will not be necessary to present the ob-
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 97
jects themselves to the external senses, but only to
afford it abstracted images of them, which, provided
they do not lead us into error, are all the better in
proportion as they are brief and comprehensive.
These are the precepts to be observed, if nothing is
to be omitted as regards the first part of our rule.
Let us .come to the second part and distinguish
carefully the notions of simple things from those of
composite things ; let us see in which falsity may
exist, in order to be on our guard with reference to
these ; those in which certainty can be found, in order
to apply ourselves exclusively to the study of them.
Here, as in our preceding inquiry, certain propositions
must be admitted, which perhaps will not receive uni-
versal assent ; but it matters little if they are no more
believed to be true than are those imaginary circles
employed by astronomers to include the phenomena
of their science, provided they assist us in distinguish-
ing the objects in reference to which our knowledge
can be true or false.
We say, then, in the first place, that things must be
considered under another point of view when we ex-
amine them in relation to our intelligence which knows
them, than when we are speaking of them in reference
to their real existence. For instance, suppose a body
having extension and figure : in itself, we affirm that
it is something one and simple ; in reality it cannot
be said to be composite because it has corporeality,
extension, and figure, since these elements never
exist independently of one another. But in relation
to our intelligence, it is a compound of these three
elements, because each of them presents itself sepa-
rately to our mind before we have time to consider
that they are all found united in one and the same
98 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
subject. Thus considering here things merely in their
relation to our intelligence, we shall call simple those
only the notion of which is so clear and so distinct
that the mind cannot divide it into other notions still
more simple ; such are figure, extension, movement,
etc. We conceive all others as being, in some man-
ner, composed of these ; which is to be taken in the
widest meaning, not excepting even things which it is
possible for us to abstract from these simple notions,
as when it is said that figure is the limit of extension,
meaning there by limit something more general than
figure, since we can speak of the limit of duration, of
movement, etc.
In this case, although the notion of limit is ab-
stracted from that of figure, it is not for that reason
to be regarded as being more simple than the latter.
On the contrary, when we attribute it to other things
essentially different from figure, such as duration and
movement, it is necessary to abstract it even from
these notions, and, consequently, it is a compound of
quite diverse elements, to each one of which it can be
applied only equivocally. We say, in the second
place, that things called simple in relation to our in-
telligence are either purely intellectual, or purely ma-
terial, or intellectual and material at the same time.
The purely intellectual are the things which intelli-
gence knows by the aid of a certain natural light,
and without the help of any corporeal image. But
there is a great number of this kind ; and, for exam-
ple, it is impossible to form a material image of
doubt, of ignorance, of the action of the will, which it
may be permitted me to call volition, and of so many
other things, which, nevertheless, we really know, and
so easily that all that is necessary is that we be en-
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 99
dowed with reason. The purely material are the
things which are known only in bodies, as figure, ex-
tension, movement, etc. Finally, those must be called
common which are indifferently attributed to bodies
and to minds, such as existence, unity, duration, and
others similar. To this class are to be referred those
common notions which are, as it were, the bonds
which unite together different simple natures, and
upon the evidence of which rest the conclusions of
reasoning; for example, the proposition, two things
equal to a third are equal to each other, and again,
two things which cannot be related in the same way
to a third are mutually different. But these ideas
may be known, either by pure intelligence, or by in-
telligence considering the images of material objects.
Among the number of simple things must be placed
their negation and their privation, in so far as these
fall under our intelligence, because the idea of non-
entity, of the instant, of rest, is no less a true idea
than that of existence, of duration, of movement.
This way of looking at the matter will allow us to
say, consequently, that all the other things that we
know are composed of these simple elements : thus,
when I judge that a figure is not in motion, I can
say that my idea is composed, in a sort, of figure and
of rest, and so of others.
We say, in the third place, that these simple ele-
ments are all known by themselves, and contain
nothing false; which will readily appear, if we distin-
guish the faculty of intelligence which sees* and knows
these things from that which judges,f affirming and
* Reason intuitive. Cf. Erdmann, Hist, of Philos. Modern,
pp. 12, 13-
f Reason discursive, understanding.
IOO THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
denying. It is possible, indeed, that we may think
ourselves to be ignorant of things which we really
know ; for example, if we suppose that beyond what
we can see, and what we can reach by thought, things
still contain something unknown to us, and that this
supposition may be false. This being so, it is plain
that we deceive ourselves, if we think we do not
know absolutely any one of these simple natures, for
if our intelligence puts itself in the least degree in
relation to them, which is necessary, since we are
supposed to pass some judgment upon them, it must
be concluded from this that we know it absolutely.
Otherwise we cannot say that it is simple, but rather,
composed, first, of that which we know of it, then, of
that of which we believe ourselves to be ignorant.
We say, in the fourth place, that the connection of
these simple things among themselves is either neces-
sary or contingent. It is necessary, when the idea of
one is so combined with the idea of the other that,
when we wish to judge them separately, it is impossible
to conceive one of the two distinctly. In this manner
figure is combined with extension, movement with
duration or time, because it is impossible to conceive
figure without extension, and movement without du-
ration. In the same way, when I say that four and
three make seven, this connection is necessary, be-
cause the number seven cannot be conceived dis-
tinctly without including in it in a confused manner
the number four and the number three. Likewise,
further, all that is proved of figures and numbers is
necessarily connected with the thing regarding which
affirmation is made. This necessity exists not only
with respect to sensible objects. For example, if
Socrates says he doubts everything, this consequence
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. ici
necessarily follows, that he knows at least that he
doubts ; and this, that he knows that something may
be true or false ; for these are notions which neces-
sarily accompany doubt. The connection is contin-
gent, when things are not inseparably bound together;
for example, when we say the body is living, the man
is clothed. There are also many propositions which
are necessarily connected together, and which the
majority class with the contingent, because the rela-
tion between them is not observed ; for example, I
am, therefore God is ; I know, therefore, I have a
mind distinct from my body. Finally, it is to be ob-
served that there is a great number of necessary prop-
ositions, of which the reciprocal is contingent : thus,
although, from the fact that I exist, I conclude with
certainty that God exists, I cannot reciprocally affirm,
from the fact that God exists, that I exist.
We say, in the fifth place, that we can know noth-
ing beyond these simple natures and the compounds
formed from them ; and, also, that it is often much
easier to examine several of them joined together than
to abstract one from the rest. Thus I can know a
triangle without ever having noticed that this knowl-
edge contains that of the angle, the line, the number
three, figure, extension, etc.; which does not prevent
our saying that the nature of the triangle is a com-
pound of all these natures, and that they are better
known than the triangle, since they are what are com-
prised in it. Moreover, there are in this same notion
of the triangle many others which exist there and
escape our notice, such as the size of the angles,
which are equal to two right angles, and the innumer-
able relations of the sides to the angles, or to the
capacity of the area.
IO2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
We say, in the sixth place, that the natures called
compound are known by us, either because we find by
experience that they are composite, or because we
combine them ourselves. We know, for example, all
that we perceive by the senses, all that we hear said by
others, and, in general, all that reaches our under-
standing, whether from elsewhere or from the reflec-
tions of the understanding itself. It is to be noted
here that the understanding cannot be deceived by
any experience, if it limit itself to a precise intuition
of the object, such as it possesses in the idea of it or
its image. Let it not be supposed from this that the
imagination faithfully represents to us the objects of
the senses ; the senses themselves do not reflect the
true form of things ; and finally, external objects are
not always such as they appear to us ; we are in all
these respects liable to error, just as if we should ac-
cept a tale as true history. A man afflicted with the
jaundice thinks that everything is yellow, because his
eye is of that color ; a mind diseased and melancholy
may take for realities the vain phantoms of its imagina-
tion. But these same things will not lead into error
the intelligence of the wise man, because, while he
knows that all that comes to him from imagination
was really imprinted there, he will never affirm that
the notion has come unaltered from the external ob-
jects to the senses, from the senses to the imagina-
tion, at least not until he has some other means of
assuring himself of the fact. On the other hand, it is
we who ourselves combine the objects of our knowl-
edge whenever we think that they contain something
which our mind perceives immediately without any ex-
perience. Thus, when the man who is ill with the jaun-
dice persuades himself that what he sees is yellow, his
METHOD] THE DIRECTION OF THE MIND. 103
knowledge is composed both of that which his imagina-
tion represents to him, and of that which he derives
from himself, to wit, that the yellow color comes not
from a defect of his eye, but from the fact that the
things which he sees are really yellow. It follows
from all this that we can deceive ourselves only when
we ourselves combine the notions which we receive.
We say, in the seventh place, that this combination
may be made in three ways, by impulse, by conjec-
ture, or by deduction. Those make up their judg-
ments on things by impulse who allow themselves to
believe anything without being persuaded by any
reason, but are determined, simply, either by some su-
perior authority, or by their own free will, or by the in-
fluence of their imagination. The first never deceives;
the second rarely ; the third almost always : but the
first does not belong to this treatise, because it does
not fall under the rules of the method. Combination
is made by conjecture when, for example, from the fact
that water, being far distant from the center of the
earth, it is [assumed to be] of a thinner substance ;
from the fact that air being placed above the earth,
is also much lighter than it, we conclude that above
the air there is nothing but an etherial substance, very
pure, and much thinner than the air itself. The
notions which we combine in this way do not deceive
us, provided we accept them only as probabilities,
never as truths : but they do not make us any wiser.
There remains deduction only, whereby we may com-
bine notions of the accuracy of which we maybe sure;
and, nevertheless, a great many errors may be com-
mitted in it. For example, when from the fact that
there is nothing in the air which sight, touch, or any
other sense can perceive, we conclude that the space
104 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART I
which contains it is empty, we improperly connect the
nature of the void with that of space ; but this always
happens whenever we think we can deduce from a
particular and contingent thing something general
and necessary. But it is in our power to avoid this
error, by never making any combinations in our
thought except those which we recognize to be neces-
sary ; as, for example, when we conclude that nothing
can be figured which is not extended, since figure has
a necessary relation to extension.
From all this it follows, . . . that we have set
forth clearly, and, as it seems to me, by a sufficient
enumeration, what [we could show at the beginning
only confusedly and without method ; to wit, that
there are only two ways open to man for attaining
a certain knowledge of truth : clear intuition and
necessary deduction. . . .
MEDITATIONS
UPON THE FIRST PHILOSOPHY, IN WHICH
ARE CLEARLY PROVED THE EXIST-
ENCE OF GOD AND THE REAL
DISTINCTION BETWEEN
THE SOUL AND THE
BODY OF MAN.
105
MEDITATIONS
UPON THE FIRST PHILOSOPHY, IN WHICH ARE
CLEARLY PROVED THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
AND THE REAL DISTINCTION BETWEEN
THE SOUL AND THE BODY OF MAN.
FIRST MEDITATION.*
Of the things which may be doubted.
NOT to-day, for the first time, have I become aware
that, from my earliest years, I have accepted a multi-
tude of false opinions as true, and that what I have
based on principles so ill-assured cannot be otherwise
than extremely doubtful. Ever since I became con-
vinced of this, I have considered that I ought for once
in my life seriously to undertake to rid myself of all
the false opinions which I have hitherto received, and
to begin entirely anew from the foundations, if I
wished to establish anything in the sciences that
should be solid and stable. But, because it seemed
to me to be a great undertaking, I have waited till I
should attain an age so ripe that I could not hope for
another after it at which I should be more fit to ac-
complish the task. I have, in consequence, delayed so
long that I believe I should be at fault if I should
* (Euvrfs, t. i, p. 235. The Meditations may be found trans-
lated entire in Veitch's Descartes.
107
Io8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
hereafter spend in deliberating the time which remains
for action. To-day, then, in accordance with my de-
sign, having freed my mind from every kind of care,
by good fortune being disturbed by no passions, and
having secured to myself a peaceful and solitary re-
treat, I shall devote myself, in sober earnest and with
entire freedom, to the business of destroying all my
former opinions.* But, in order to do this, it will not
be necessary for me to prove that every one of them
is false, in doing which I might never reach the end.
But inasmuch as reason convinces me that I ought
to restrain myself from admitting as true things which
are not entirely certain and indubitable, not less care-
fully than those which appear to me to be manifestly
false, there will be sufficient reason for me to reject
all of them if I can find in any one of them any
grounds for doubt. However, it will not be necessary
that I examine each one in particular, which would be
infinite labor ; but, inasmuch as the destruction of the
foundations necessarily involves the ruin of the whole
edifice, I will apply myself at once to the principles
upon which all my old opinions rest.
All that I have hitherto received as most true and
assured I have learned from the senses or by means
of the senses. But I have sometimes found that these
senses were deceivers, and it is the part of prudence
never to trust entirely those who have once deceived
us.f
* Cf. Principles of Philosophy t part I, I, 2.
1. The seeker after truth once in his life, so far as it is possible,
should doubt all things.
2. What is doubtful should be considered false.
(Euvres, t. iii, pp. 63, 64. Veitch's Descartes, p. 193.
j- Cf . Princ. I, 4. Why we may doubt of sensible things.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 109
But although the senses may deceive us sometimes
in regard to things which are scarcely perceptible and
very distant, yet there are many other things of which
we cannot entertain a reasonable doubt, although we
know them by means of the senses ; for example, that
I am here, seated by the fire, in my dressing-gown,
holding this paper in my hands, and other things of
such a nature. And how can I deny that these hands
and this body are mine? Only by imitating those
crazy people, whose brains are so disturbed and con-
fused by the black vapors of the bile that they con-
stantly affirm that they are kings, while in fact they
are very poor ; that they are clothed in gold and
purple, while they are quite naked ; or who imagine
themselves to be pitchers, or to have glass bodies.
But what ! These are fools, and I should be no less
extravagant if I should follow their example. Never-
theless, I have to consider that I am a man, and that
I fall asleep and in my dreams imagine the same
things or even sometimes things less probable than
these crazy people do while they are awake. How
often have I dreamed in the night that I was in this
place, that I was dressed, that I was before the fire,
although I was quite naked in my bed. It seems to
me indeed at present that I am looking on this paper
not with eyes asleep, that this head which I shake
is not in a drowse, that it is with deliberate pur-
pose I stretch out my hand, and that I perceive it.
What happens in sleep does not appear so clear and
distinct as all this.
But when I consider it carefully, I remember that I
have often been deceived, while asleep, by similar illu-
sions, and, pondering on the matter, I see so plainly
that there are no certain marks by which the waking
110 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
is distinguished from the sleeping state that I am
quite astonished, and my astonishment is so great as
almost to persuade me that I am asleep.*
Let us, then, suppose that we are asleep, and that
all these particular events that we open our eyes,
shake our heads, stretch out our hands, and such like
things are only false illusions, and let us think that
perhaps neither our hands nor our entire bodies are
such as we perceive them. Nevertheless, we must at
least admit that the things which we imagine in sleep
are like pictures and paintings, which can only be
formed after the likeness of something real and veri-
table. Accordingly, these things in general namely,
eyes, head, hands, body are not imaginary, but real
and existent. For truly, painters, even when they
strive with the utmost art to represent sirens and
satyrs by extravagant and fantastical figures, cannot,
nevertheless, give them forms and natures entirely
novel, but only make a certain mixture and combina-
tion of divers creatures, or, even if their imagination
is extravagant enough to invent something so new the
like whereof has never been seen, and their work
represents something purely fictitious and absolutely
false, certainly, at the very least, the colors of which
they are composed must be real.
By the same reason, granting that these things in
general, namely, body, eyes, head, hands, and other
like things, may be imaginary, nevertheless it must be
admitted that there are at least some other things still
*Epistemon. Have you never heard in the old comedies that
stock-phrase for expressing astonishment : Am I, then, asleep?
How can you be certain that your life is not a continuous dream,
and that all that you perceive by the senses is not as false as when
you are asleep ? Recherche de la Verite. (CEuvres, t. xi, p. 350.)
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. in
more simple and universal, which are true and exist-
ent, of the combination of which, no more nor less
than that formed from certain real colors, all these
images of things which dwell in the mind, be they true
and real, or fictitious and fantastic, are formed. Of
this nature is corporeal being in general and its ex-
tension, together with the figure of things extended,
their quantity or size, and their number, as also the
place where they are, the time which measures their
duration, and other similar things. Accordingly, per-
haps, we shall not from this conclude incorrectly, if
we say that physics, astronomy, medicine, and all the
other sciences which are occupied with the considera-
tion of things composite, are very doubtful and uncer-
tain, but that arithmetic, geometry, and the other
sciences of that nature, which treat only of things
quite simple and quite general, without being much
concerned whether they exist in reality or not, contain
something certain and indubitable, because, whether I
am awake or asleep, two and three taken together
always make five, and a square never has more than
four sides, and it does not seem possible that truths so
clear and so evident can be suspected of any falsity or
uncertainty.
Nevertheless, for a long time I have cherished the
belief that there is a God who can do everything
and by whom I was made and created such as I am.
But how do I know that he has not caused that there
should be no earth, no heavens, no extended body,
no figure, no size, no place, and that, nevertheless, I
should have perceptions of all these things, and that
everything should seem to me to exist not otherwise
than as I perceive it ? And even in like manner as I
judge that others deceive themselves in matters that
112 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
they know best, how do I know that he has not caused
that I deceive myself every time that I add two to
three, or number the sides of a square, or judge of
anything still more simple, if anything more simple
can be imagined ? * But it may be that God has not
willed that I should be deceived in this manner, since
he is called supremely good. Nevertheless, if it is
repugnant to his goodness to create me such that I
should deceive myself constantly, it would appear also
to be contrary to it to permit me to deceive myself
sometimes, and yet I cannot doubt that he does per-
mit it
I shall suppose, then, not that God, who is very
good and the sovereign source of truth, but that a
certain evil genius, no less wily and deceitful than
powerful, has employed all his ingenuity to deceive
me. I shall think that the heavens, the air, the earth,
colors, figures, sounds, and all other external things,
are nothing but illusions and idle fancies which he
employs to impose upon my credulity. I shall con-
sider myself as having no hands, no eyes, no flesh, no
blood, as having no senses, but, as believing falsely that
I possess all these things. I shall obstinately adhere
to this opinion ; and if by this means it will not be in
my power to arrive at the knowledge of any truth, at
all events it is in my power to suspend my judgment.
Therefore I shall take diligent care not to receive into
my faith any falsehood, and I shall prepare my mind
so well against all the wiles of this great deceiver,
that, powerful and crafty as he may be, he will never
be able to impose upon me
* Cf. Princ., I, 5. Why we may doubt even of mathematical
demonstrations.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 113
SECOND MEDITATION.
Of the nature of the human mind ; and that it is more
easily known than the body.
YESTERDAY'S meditation has filled my mind with
so many doubts that it is henceforth impossible for
me to forget them, and yet I do not see howl can re-
solve them I shall nevertheless make an effort
and follow on once more in the way on which I
entered yesterday ; withdrawing myself from every-
thing in which I can imagine the least doubt, just
as t if I knew it to be absolutely false ; and I shall
keep steadily on in this path until I have found some-
thing certain, or at least, if I can do nothing else,
until I have found out certainly that there is nothing
in the world that is certain.* Archimedes, in order
to move the terrestrial globe from its place and trans-
port it into another, required only a point which should
be firm and immovable, and even so may I entertain
high hopes if only I am fortunate enough to find
barely one thing which is certain and indubitable, f
* Ettdoxe. But for fear you will refuse to follow me further, I
assure you that these doubts, which at the outset make you afraid,
are like the phantoms and the shadowy forms which appear in the
night-time in the uncertain glimmer of a feeble light. Fear pur-
sues you if you flee from them ; but march up to them, lay your
hands upon them, and you will find them nothing but air, nothing
but shadow, and your fears will vanish forever. Recherche de
la Verite. (CEuvres, t. xi, p. 3?2.)
\Eudoxe. Only give me your attention. I am going to lead
you further than you think. Indeed, from this universal doubt,
114 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
I make the supposition, then, that all things which I
see are false ; I persuade myself that nothing has ever
existed of all that my memory, filled with illusions,
has represented to me ; I consider that I have no
senses ; I assume that body, figure, extension, motion,
and place are only fictions of my mind. What is there,
then, which can be held to be true ? Perhaps nothing
at all, except the statement that there is nothing at
all that is true. But how do I know that there is not
something different from those things which I have
just pronounced uncertain, concerning which there
cannot be entertained the least doubt? Is there not
some God, or some other power, who puts these
thoughts into my mind ? That is not necessary, for
perhaps I am capable of producing them of myself.
Myself then ! at the very least am I not something ?
But I have already denied that 1 have any senses
or any body ; nevertheless I hesitate, for what follows
from that ? Am I so dependent upon the body and
the senses that I cannot exist without them ? But I
have persuaded myself that there is nothing at all in
the world, that there are no heavens, no earth, no
minds, no bodies ; am I then also persuaded that I
am not ? Far from it ! Without doubt I exist, if I
am persuaded, or solely if I Have thought anything
whatever. But there is I know not what deceiver,
very powerful, very crafty, who employs all his cun-
ning continually to delude me. There is still no
doubt that I exist, if he deceives me ; and let him
deceive me as he may, he will never bring it about
that I shall be nothing, so long as I shall think some-
as from a fixed and immovable point, I am resolved to derive the
knowledge of God, of yourself, and of the whole universe.
Recherche de la Verite. ((Eirurcs, t. xi, p. 353).
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS.
thing ^ixjsjts. Accordingly, having considered it
and carefully examined everything, I am obliged to
conclude and to hold for certain that this proposition,
/ am, I exist, is necessarily true, every time that I
pronounce it or conceive it in my mind.
NOTE. Compare the following passages illustrative of
the proposition / think, therefore I exist :
And observing that this truth, / think, therefore I am,
was so firm and so certain that no suggestions of skeptics,
however extravagant, could ever shake it, I concluded that I
might accept it without scruple as the first principle of
the philosophy I was in search of. Discourse on Method,
Part IV. (CEuvres, t. i, p. 158.)
.,
Principles, I, 7, and g.
J. For it is contradictory [repngnat] to suppose that any-
thing which thinks, at the same time in which it thinks, does
not exist. And hence this knowledge, ego cogito, ergo sum,
rs the first and most certain of any which presents itself to
one who philosophizes in an orderly manner.
9. What thought is.
By the word thought \cogitatto~\ I mean all that which,
when we are conscious, takes place in us, in so far as there
is in us a consciousness of these things. And accordingly,
not only to understand, to will, to imagine, but even to feel,
is the same here as to think. For if I say, I see, or I ivalk,
therefore I am; and have in mind the seeing or the walking
which is performed by the body, the conclusion is not abso-
lutely certain ; because, as often happens in sleep, I can
think that I see, or that I walk, although I do not open my
eyes, or stir from my place, and even, possibly, although I have
no body ; but if I have in mind the sense itself, or conscious-
ness, of seeing or walking, which in that case is referred to
the mind, which alone perceives, or thinks, itself to see or to
walk, it is manifestly certain. [Lat.]
By the term thought I understand all that is within us
in such manner that we are immediately conscious of it by
Il6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
ourselves and have of it an inner knowledge ; thus all the
operations of the will, the understanding, the imagination,
the senses, are thoughts. But I add immediately to exclude
the things which follow and depend upon our thoughts ; for
example, voluntary movement, which has in truth the will for
its source (principe), but still is not itself a thought. Thus,
to walk is not a thought, but rather the .feeling, or the knowl-
edge that one has that he is walking. Reply to Second Ob-
jection. (Geom. proof, Def. I, CEuvres, t. i, p. 145.)
Cogito, ergo sum, not a conclusion of a syllogism.
When anyone says, / think, therefore I am, or / exist, he
does not conclude his existence from his thought by force of
any syllogism, but as a thing known by itself ; he sees it by
a simple inspection of the mind, as appears from this, that if
Tie should deduce it by syllogism, he must first know this
major to be true, Whatever thinks is, or exists : but on the
contrary he learns it from his perceiving within himself that
it would be impossible that he should think if he did not
exist. For it is the property of our mind to form general
propositions from the knowledge of particular ones. Reply
to Second Objection. (CEuvres, t. i, p. 427.) See Bouillier,
t. i, p. 63.
In criticism of the Second Meditation your friends bring
forward six things. The first is that in saying I think, there-
fore I am, the author of the Instances* will have it that I
presuppose this major, he who thinks is ; and accordingly
that I have at the start adopted a presupposition (prej'uge).
Wherein he misuses again the term presupposition ; for
although the name might be applied to this proposition when
uttered unreflectingly, and it might be believed to be true
solely because of its being remembered as a judgment pre-
viously passed, yet it cannot be said to be a presupposition
when one gives his mind to it, because it appears so evident
to the understanding that a man cannot help believing it,
even though it be the first time in his life that he has
thought about it, and consequently there is no presupposition
whatever in the case. But the more considerable error here
* Gassendi.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 117
is that this author supposes that the knowledge of particular
propositions is always to be deduced from universals, accord-
ing to the order of syllogisms in logic ; wherein he shows
that he knows very little how truth is to be sought ; for it is
certain that, in order to find it, we must always begin with
the particular notions, in order thence to arrive at the gen-
eral notions, although we can reciprocally, also, having
reached the general, deduce therefrom other particular
truths. Thus, when one is teaching a child the elements of
geometry, he will not make him understand the general
truth, when from two equal quantities equal parts are
taken, the remainders are equal, or that the whole is
greater than any of its parts, unless he shows him examples
of it in particular cases. Letter to Clerselier, on the objec-
tions of Gassendi. ((Euvres, t. ii. pp. 305-6.)
These interpretations by Descartes of his own thought
must be borne in mind when in the Principles we find him
placing among the common notions, or axioms, this universal :
He who thinks cannot be non-existent while he thinks*
It is manifest that Descartes believed that, in reaching
this innermost point of personal self-consciousness, he had
reached the point of coincidence of thought and reality.
From this vantage-ground he will now look out to see what
further revelations await him. But the cogito, ergo sum, is
the primary datum and starting-point. In the apprehen-
sion of this existential truth he finds himself no longer in
the realm of abstract thought, but face to face with reality.
Is this basis of his system a fact, then, or a principle ? A
fact, surely, but the supersensible and spiritual fact of per-
sonal existence.
Descartes' / think, therefore I am, not identical with something
similar in the writings of St. Augustine : " Quid, si falleris ?
Si enim fallor, sum. Nam qui non est, utique nee fall!
potest, ac per hoc sum, si fallor. Quia ergo sum, qui fallor,
quomodo esse me fallor, quando certum est me esse si
fallor." Augustine, De Civitate Dei, 1. xi, c. 26. *
I am obliged to you for calling my attention to the
passage of St. Augustine to which my / think, therefore 2
* See Hamilton's Reid, Note A., p. 744.
Il8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
am, bears some resemblance ; I read the passage to-day in
the]town library, and I find, indeed, that he makes use of it to
prove the certainty of our own being, and then to show that
there is within us a certain image of the Trinity, in that we
are, we know that we are, and we love this being and this
knowledge within us ; whereas I employ it to show that this
/ which thinks is an immaterial substance, and has nothing
corporeal in it, which are two very different things, and it is
so simple and natural an inference, from the fact of one's
doubting to conclude that he exists, that it might have fallen
from anybody's pen ; however, I am none the less pleased to
meet with it in St. Augustine, if only to close the mouths of
those small wits who have tried to raise difficulties about
this principle. Letter to M. (de Zuytlichem) (Huyghens ?).
(CEuvres, t. viii, p. 421.)
But I do not yet know with sufficient clearness
what I am, I who am certain that I am ; wherefore I
must be on my guard henceforth not unadvisedly to
take something else for myself, and so fall into a mis-
take in this knowledge, which I maintain to be more
certain and more evident than all that I have gained
before it. Accordingly, I shall now consider anew
that which I believed to be before I entered into these
last reflections ; and of my old opinions I shall cut off
everyone which is in the least oppugned by the argu-
ments which I have just stated, so that there shall re-
main only that precisely which is entirely certain and
indubitable. What is it, then, which I have believed
myself to be hitherto ? Undoubtedly, I have thought
that I was a man. But what, then, is a man ? Shall I
say that a man is a reasonable animal ? No, surely,
for then it would be necessary for me to find out what
animal is and what reasonable is, and thus from a
single question I should fall by degrees into an infini-
tude of others more difficult and more embarrassing ;
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 119
and I am not willing to squander the little time
and leisure that remain to me in solving diffi-
culties of that sort.* But I pause rather to con-
sider here the thoughts which arose before of them-
selves in my mind, and which were inspired in me by
my own nature simply, whenever I addressed myself to
the consideration of my being. I considered myself,
in the first place, as having a face, hands, arms, and
all this mechanism composed of bone and flesh, such
as it appears in a corpse, which I designated by the
name body. I considered, moreover, that I took
food, that I walked, that I felt and that I thought,
and I referred all these actions to the mind ; but I
did not stop to think what this mind was, or, indeed,
if I did stop to think, I imagined that it was some-
thing extremely rare and subtile, like breath, a flaine,
or a very thin vapor, which was instilled and spread
through my grosser parts. As to the nature of the
body, I had no doubt whatever ; but I thought I
knew it very distinctly ; and had I desired to explain
* Eudoxe. For example, if I should ask Episte'mon what a man
is, and he should answer, as they do in the schools, that a man is
a rational animal ; and then, to explain these two terms, which are
no less obscure than the first, he should conduct us through all the
steps which they call metaphysical, we should be involved in a
1 ibyrinth from which it would be impossible to escape. In fact,
from this question there arise two others ; first, what is an animal ?
second, what is rational ? And further, if, to explain animal, he
should tell us it is something living, and that something living is
an animated body, that body is corporeal substance, you see that
the questions, like the branches of a genealogical tree, would go
on increasing and multiplying ; and at last all these fine questions
would end in mere tautology, which would make nothing clearer,
and would leave us in our former ignorance. Recherche de la
Verite. (CEuvres, t. xi, p. 355.)
120 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
it according to the notions I then had of it, I should
have described it in this manner.
By the term body I understand all that can be
bounded by some figure; which can be contained within
some place, and fill a space in such a manner that every
other body is excluded therefrom ; which can have
sensations either by touch, or by sight, or by hearing,
or by taste, or by smell, which can be moved in
various ways, not, in truth, by itself, but by some out-
ward thing by which it may be touched, and the im-
pression of which it may receive ; for to have the
power of being moved by itself, as also of feeling
and of thinking, I did not believe at all that this be-
longed to the nature of body ; on the contrary, I was
astonished rather to find such powers occurring in
any bodies. But as for me, what am I, now that I am
supposing that there is a certain genius extremely
powerful, and, if I dare say it, malicious and crafty,
who employs all his energies and all his cunning to
deceive me ? Can I assure myself that I have the
least of all those things which I have just now said
belong to the nature of body? I pause to think
attentively ; I go over and over all these things in
my mind, and I do not meet with any one which I
can say is in me. It is not necessary to stop to
enumerate them. Let us, then, pass on to the attri-
butes of the soul, and see whether any one of thVrh is
in me.
The first are my taking food and walking ; but if it
be true that I have no body, it is also true that I can-
not walk or feed myself. Another is perceiving ;
but perception is impossible without the body, although
I have thought before that I perceived many things
during sleep which, on awaking, I have recognized as
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. VijJ
not being really perceived. Another is thinking ; and
I find here an attribute which belongs to me ; thought
alone cannot be detached from me. I am, I exist
that is certain ; but how long? As long as I think ;
because it might happen that if I should cease entirely
from thinking I might in the same moment cease
utterly from being.* I am admitting nothing now
which is not necessarily true ; I am, then, to speak
with precision, a thing which thinks, that is to say,
a mind, an understanding, or a reason ; f terms the
significance of which was unknown to me before.
But I am a truly existing thing ; but what thing ?
I have said ; a thing which thinks ; and what more? I
stir up my imagination to see whether I am not still
something in addition. I am not this collection of
members which is called the human body ; I am not
a thin and penetrating vapor diffused throughout
these members ; I am not a wind, a breath, a vapor ;
nor anything at all of all that I am able to picture or
imagine myself to be, since I have assumed that all
that is nothing at all, and that without changing this
assumption I find that I do not cease to be certain
that I am something.
But what is it, then, that I am ~,A thing which
thinks. What is a thing which thinks I- It is a thing
which doubts, which understands, which conceives,
which affirms, which denies, which wills, which wills
not, which imagines also, and which perceives. Surely,
It is no small matter if all these things belong to my
nature. But why do they not belong to it? Am I
not that even which now doubts almost everything ;
* See reply to Hyperaspistes, cited below, p. 128.
f For Hobbes's objection and Descartes' reply see Obj. e
(Euvres, t. i, p. 468 et seq.
122 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
which nevertheless understands and conceives certain
things ; which is assured and affirms these only to be
true, and denies the rest ; which wills and desires to
know more ; which wills not to be deceived ; which
imagines many things, even sometimes in spite of my-
self ; and which also perceives many, as if by the inter-
position of bodily organs. Is there nothing of all
.that which is as true as it is certain that I am and
that I exist, even although I were always sleeping,
and he who gave me my being were using all his
skill to deceive me ? Is there also any of these at-
tributes which can be distinguished from my thought,
or which can be said to be separate from myself ?
For it is so evident of itself that it is I who doubt,
who understand, and who desire, that there is no
need here of adding anything to explain it. ^And I
also certainly have the power of imagining; for. al-
though it might happen (as I have already supposed)
that the things which I have imagined were not true,
nevertheless this power of imagining does not cease
really to exist in me, and to form part of my thought.
Finally, I am the same being which perceives ; that
is, which has knowledge of certain things as if by the
organs of sense, since in reality I see light, I hear
noise, I feel warmth. But I have been told that these
appearances are false, and that I am asleep. Granted ;
nevertheless, at least, it is very certain that it .appears
to me that I see light, that I hear noise, and that I
feel warmth ; that cannot be false ; and it is just that
which in me I call perceiving ; and that, precisely, is
nothing else than thinking. From this point I begin
to know what I am with more clearness and distinct-
ness than heretofore.
But nevertheless it still appears to me, and I cannot
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 123
help believing, that corporeal things, the images of
which are formed by thought, which fall under the
senses, and which the senses themselves observe, are
not much more distinctly known than that I know
not what part of myself which does not fall under
the imagination : although, indeed, it would be very
strange to say that I know and comprehend more
distinctly things whose existence appears to me doubt-
ful, which are unknown to me, and which do not be-
long to me, than those of the truth of which I am
persuaded, which are known to me, which belong to
my proper nature in a word, than myself. But I see
well enough how it is ; my mind is a vagabond, which
takes delight in leading me astray, and will not suffer
itself to be kept within the strict bounds of truth.
Let us then give it free rein for once, and, granting
every sort of liberty, let us allow it to dwell upon the
objects which appear to it externally, in order that
hereafter, when we shall proceed to withdraw it gently
and at the right time, and detain it upon the considera-
tion of its own being and the things which it finds
within itself, thenceforward it shall be more easily
regulated and guided. Let us then consider the
things which are commonly thoifght to be the easiest of
all to know, and that are believed to be most distinctly
known, that is to say, bodies that we touch and see ;
not, indeed, such bodies in general, for these general
notions are usually a little more confused ; but let us
consider a particular body. Let us take, for instance,
this piece of wax
What then ! I who appear to conceive of this piece
of wax with so much clearness and distinctness, do I
not know myself not only with much more truth and
certainty, but even with much more distinctness and
124 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
clearness ! For if I judge that the wax is or exists,
from the fact that I see it, certainly it follows much
more evidently that I am or that I exist myself, from
the fact that I see it, for it may be that what I see is
not in reality wax ; it may also be that I have not eyes
even to see anything ; but it cannot be that while I
see, or what I do not distinguish therefrom while I
think I see, I who think am not something. Like-
wise, if I judge that the wax exists from the fact that
I touch it, the same thing will follow, to wit : that I
am ; and if I judge so because my imagination or
something else, whatever it may be persuades me
thus, I shall always draw the same conclusion. And
what I have said here of the wax is applicable to all
other things external to me, and which are to be met
with outside of me. And, moreover, if the notion or
perception of the wax appeared to me more clear and
distinct after not only the seeing it and the touching it,
but after many other causes had rendered it most man-
ifest to me, with how much greater evidence, distinct-
ness, and clearness, must it be admitted that I know at
present myself, since all the reasons which contribute
to the knowing and the conceiving of the nature of the
wax prove much better the nature of my mind ; and,
besides, there are so many other things in the mind
itseif which can contribute to the revelation of its
nature, that those which depend upon the body, as
these do, hardly deserve to be taken into the account.
But at last, by degrees almost imperceptible to my-
self, I have reached the point I desired, because, since
there is one thing at present manifest to me, that
bodies themselves are not really known by the senses
or by the faculty of imagination, and that they are
not known from the fact that they are seen or touched,
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 125
but solely from the fact that they are understood, or
at least comprehended by thought, I see clearly that
there is nothing which is more easy for me to know
than my mind.* But because it is difficult to rid
one's self so promptly of an opinion to which one has
been accustomed for a long time, it will be well for
me to stop a while at this point, in order that by longer
meditation I may impress more deeply upon my mem-
ory this new knowledge.
* Cf. Princ. I, 8, n. (CEuvres, t. iii, pp. 67-69.) Veitch's Des-
cartes, pp. 195-197.
126 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. (PART II
THIRD MEDITATION.
Of God : that he exists.
.... I am certain then that I am a thing that thinks ;
but do I not then also know that which is necessary
to make me certain of anything ? Certainly, in this
primary knowledge there is nothing which assures me
of its truth but the clear and distinct perception of
what I affirm, which test of truth would not be suffi-
cient to assure me that what I affirm is true, if it could
ever happen that a thing which I conceive thus clearly
and distinctly should prove false : and, accordingly, it
appears to me that I can now lay down this as a gen-
eral rule, that all things which we conceive very
clearly and very distinctly are true.*
And, certainly, since I have no reason to believe that
there is a God who can deceive, and as I have not yet
even considered the arguments which prove that there
is a God, the reason for doubt which depends solely
on that opinion is very frivolous, and, so to speak,
metaphysical. But in order to be able to remove it
entirely I must examine whether there is a God, so
soon as the occasion shall present itself ; and if I find
that there is one, I must also examine whether he can
be a deceiver : for without the knowledge of these
two truths I do not see that I can ever be certain of
anything. And in order that I may have occasion to
* Cf . Discourse, pt. iv. ((Enures, t. i, p. 159.) Veitch's Des-
cartes, p. 35. Also, Princ. I, 45-50. See below.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 127
examine into this matter without interrupting the
order of meditation which I have proposed to myself,
which is to pass by degrees from notions which I shall
find first in my mind to those which I shall be able to
discover afterward, it is necessary here that I divide
all my thoughts into certain classes, and that I con-
sider in which of these classes truth and error properly
exist.
Among my thoughts, some are, as it were, the images
of things, and it is to these alone that the term3eati~
properly belongs ; as when I represent to myself a
man, or a chimera, or the heavens, or an angel, or God
even. Moreover, besides that, there are certain other
forms ; as when 1 desire and fear, when I affirm or
deny, I do then, indeed, conceive something as the sub-
ject of the action of my mind, but I add also some-
thing else by this action to the idea that I have of this
thing and of this class of thoughts ; some are called
volitions or affections, and others judgments.
Now, so far as ideas are concerned, if they are con-
sidered simply in themselves, and as having no relation
to anything else, they cannot, properly speaking, be
false ; because, whether I imagine a goat or a chimera,
ifTs no less true that I imagine the one than the other.
There can be no fear, also, of encountering falsity in
affections or volitions ; for although I may desire
things evil, or even things which never have existed,
nevertheless, for all that, it is no less true that I desire
them.
Thus there remain judgments alone, in which I
must be diligently on guard against being deceived.
But the principal error, and the one of most common
*Geom. proof, Def. II. (CEuvres, t. i, p. 452.) Veitch's Des~
carles, Note XI, p. 276.
128 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
occurrence, consists in my judging that the ideas
which are in me are like or are conformed to things
which are outside of me ; for certainly, if I consider
simply the ideas as certain modes or forms of my
thought, without desiring to refer them to anything
external, they can hardly afford any occasion of
error. But, among my ideas, some appear to me to
be born with me,* others to be strangers and to come
* It is not without reason that I am assured that the human soul,
wherever it may be, always thinks, even in the mother's womb.
What reason more certain or more evident could be desired than that
which I employ, since I have proved that its nature or its essence
consists in its being a thing which thinks, just as the essence of
the body consists in being a thing extended ; for it is not possible
to deprive anything of its own essence ; and therefore it seems to
me that no more account should be made of him who denies that
his soul was thinking at a time when he does not remember to
have perceived that it was thinking, than if he should deny that
his body was extended at a time when he did not perceive that
there was any extension. I do not say that I am persuaded that
the mind of the babe in its mother's womb thinks on metaphysical
subjects ; on the contrary, if I may be permitted to form a con-
jecture upon a matter concerning which so little can be known,
since we find every day that our mind is so closely united to the
body that it almost constantly suffers from it, and although a
mind acting in a body sound and strong enjoys some freedom to
think on other things besides those which the senses present to it,
nevertheless experience teaches us only too often that there is no
such freedom in the case of sick people, nor for those who are
asleep, nor for infants, and that there is generally less as age is
less advanced ; there is nothing more reasonable than to believe
that the mind newly joined to the infant body is occupied only
with feeling or being obscurely conscious of the ideas of pain, of
pleasure, of cold, of warmth, or such like, which spring from the
union or so to speak the mixture of the mind with the body.
And nevertheless, in this state even, the mind has not less in
itself the ideas of God, of itself, and of all those truths which are
self-evident, than adult persons do when they are not thinking of
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 129
from without, and others to be made and invented by
myself.
As regards the faculty to conceive what in general
is called a thing, or a truth, or a thought, it appears
to me that I have that [power] from no other source
than my own nature ; but if I now hear some noise,
if I see the sun, if I feel warmth, up to this moment
I have judged that these sensations proceeded from
things which coexist outside of me ; and, finally, it
appears to me that sirens, hippogriffs, and all other
similar chimeras are fictions and inventions of my
mind. But also, on the other hand, perhaps I may
persuade myself that all these ideas are of the kind
that I have called foreign, and which come from with-
out, or, indeed, that they are all born with me, or,
perhaps, that they have all been made by me ; for I
have not yet clearly discovered their true source.
And what I have principally to do at this point is to
consider with respect to those which appear to me to
come from objects outside of me, what are the reasons
which oblige me to think that they resemble those
objects.
The first of these reasons is that I am so taught by
nature ; and the second, that I discover in myself
that these ideas do not depend upon my will ; for
frequently they present themselves to me in spite of
myself, as, at this time, whether I will or no, I feel
warmth, and therefore I am persuaded that this feel-
ing or, if you please, this idea of warmth is produced
them ; for it does not acquire them afterward with increasing
age. And I do not doubt that at that time, if it were freed from
the bondage of the body, it would find these ideas within itself.
Reply to Hyperaspistes. Lettres ((Euvres t. viii, p. 268). Cf.
Veitch's Descartes, Note VI, p. 287.
130 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
in me by something different from myself, to wit, by
the heat of the fire before which I am seated. And I
see nothing which appears to me more reasonable
than to judge that this foreign thing emits and im-
presses upon me its likeness rather than something
else. Now I must see whether these reasons are suf-
ficiently strong and convincing. When I say that it
seems to me that this is taught me by nature, I under-
stand, by this word nature, simply a certain inclina-
tion which impels me to believe it, and not a natural
light which makes me know that it is true.* But
these two expressions are very different. For I can
call in question nothing which the natural light has
made me see to be true, as, for instance, it has so
often made me see that from the fact that I doubt I
can conclude that I exist ; inasmuch as I have in me
no other faculty or power for distinguishing the true
from the false, which can teach me that what this
light shows me to be true is not so, and in which I
can put so much confidence as I can in this.
But as concerns those inclinations which also ap-
pear to be natural to me, I have often observed
that when there was a choice to be made between
virtues and vices, that they have carried me not less
toward the evil than toward the good ; and therefore
it is that I have no more reason to follow them in
matters where the true and the false are concerned.
And as for the other reason, that these ideas must
come from some other source than myself, since they
do not depend upon my will, I do not find it any more
convincing. For in quite the same way as those in-
clinations of which I am just now speaking are found
in me notwithstanding that they do not always agree
* Cf. Hobbes' objection and Descartes' reply cited below.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 131
with my will, so, perhaps, there may be in me some
faculty or power adequate to produce these ideas,
without the aid of any external things, although it
may not be known to me ; as, indeed, it has always
appeared to me up to the present that they are formed
within me thus when I was asleep, without the aid of
the objects which they represent. And even if I
should admit that they are formed by these objects it
would not necessarily follow that they must resemble
them.
On the other hand, I have observed in many in-
stances that there is a great difference between the
object and its idea. As, for example, I find in myself
two ideas of the sun quite different : the one has its
origin in the senses, and is to be put in the class of
those which I have said above come from without ; by
which it appears to me extremely small ; the other is
drawn from astronomical considerations, that is to
say, from certain notions born with me, or at least
formed by myself, in whatever way that may be ; by
which it appears to me many times greater than the
whole earth. Certainly these two ideas which I con-
ceive of the sun cannot both be like the same sun ;
and reason makes me believe that that which comes
immediately from its appearance is the one which
least resembles it.
All this makes me sufficiently aware that, up to this
hour, it has not been by a judgment certain and pre-
meditated, but solely by a blind and forward impulse,
that I have believed that there were things external
to myself, and different from my own being, which,
by the organs of my senses, or by some other means,
whatever it may be, send into me their ideas or images,
and imprint there their resemblances.
132 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
*
But there presents itself still another way of finding
out whether, among the things the ideas of which I
have in me, there are any which exist externally to
me. To wit : if these ideas are considered only in so
far as they are certain modes of thought, I do not dis-
cover among them any difference or inequality, and
all appear to proceed from me in the same way ; but
considering them as images, of which some represent
one thing and others another, it is evident that
they are very different from one another. For,
in reality, those which represent to me sub-
stances are without doubt something more, and
contain in themselves, so to speak, more objective
reality,* that is to say, participate by representation
in more degrees of being, or perfection, than those
which represent to me simply modes or accidents.
Moreover, that by which I conceive a God, sovereign,
eternal, infinite, immutable, all-knowing, all-powerful,
and creator universal of all things external to him-
self, this, I say, has certainly in itself more objec-
tive reality than those by which finite substances are
represented to me.
Now it is a thing manifest by the natural light that
there must be at least as much reality in the efficient
and total cause as in its effect, for whence can the
effect draw its reality save from its cause, and how
could this cause communicate it to it, if it did not
have it in itself ? And from this it follows not only
that nothing cannot produce anything, but also, that
that which is more perfect, that is to say, which con-
tains in itself more reality, cannot be a result of or be
dependent upon the less perfect. And this truth is not
* Cf. Reply to Second Objections, Geom. proof, Def. Ill
((Enures, t. i, 452); Veitch, Descartes, p. 267 and Note III, p. 285.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 133
only clear and evident in the effects which have that
reality which philosophers call actual or formal, but
also in the ideas wherein is considered simply that
reality which they call objective : for example, the
stone which has not yet existed not only cannot now
begin to be, unless it is produced by something which
has in itself formally or eminently* all that which
enters into the composition of the stone, that is to
say, which contains in itself the same things, or others
more excellent than those which are in the stone; and
heat cannot be produced in a subject which was be-
fore devoid of it unless it be by something which is of
an order, a degree, or a kind at least as perfect as heat;
and so ojf other things.
But still, besides that, the idea of heat, or of the
stone, cannot be in me, unless it has been put there
by some cause which contains in itself as much real-
ity as I conceive to be in the heat or in the stone ;
for although this cause may not transmit to my idea
anything of its own actual or formal reality, it must
not on that account be imagined that this cause is
less real ; but it must be understood that every idea
being a work of the mind, its nature is such that there is
not to be demanded of it any other formal reality than
that which it receives and borrows from thought, or
the mind, of which it is simply a mode, that is to say
a manner or way of thinking. But in order that an
idea contain one such objective reality rather than
another, it must derive this, without doubt, from some
cause, in which there exists at least as much of formal
reality as this idea contains of objective reality ; for
if we suppose that there is found anything in an idea
* Cf. Reply to Second Objections, Geom. proof, Def. IV (CEu-
vres, t. i, p. 452); Veitch, Descartes, p. 268 and Note VII, p. 289.
134 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
which is not met with in its cause, it must then be
that it has this from nothing. But imperfect as may
be this mode of existence by which a thing exists ob-
jectively, or by representation in the understanding
through its idea, certainly it cannot, nevertheless, be
said that this mode and manner of being is nothing,
nor, consequently, that this idea derives its origin
from nothing. Nor ought I, moreover, to imagine
that, because the reality which I consider in my ideas
is only objective, it is not necessary that the same
reality should be formally or actually in the causes of
these ideas, but that it is enough that it be also ob-
jective in them ; because, just as this mode of exist-
ing objectively belongs to ideas from their own
natures, likewise the manner or mode of existing
formally belongs to the causes of these ideas (at least
to the first and principal) from their own nature.
And although it might happen that one idea should
give birth to another idea, this, nevertheless, can-
not go on to infinity ; but an end must be reached
in a first idea, the cause of which may be the model
(patron) or original in which is contained, formally
and actually, all the reality or perfection which is
found simply objectively, or by representation, in
those ideas.
Consequently, the natural light makes it clearly evi-
dent to me that ideas exist in me as pictures or images
which may easily fall short of the perfection of the
things from which they are derived, but which never
can contain anything greater or more perfect. The
longer and more carefully I consider all these things
the more clearly and distinctly I recognize that they
are true.
But what, finally, shall I conclude from all this ?
METAPHYSICS] MEDltATlONS. 13$
This : namely, that if the reality or objective perfec-
tion of any one of my ideas is such that I know
clearly that this same reality or perfection is not in
me, neither formally nor eminently, and that, conse-
quently, I cannot be the cause of it myself, it follows
thence, necessarily, that I am not alone in the world,
but that there is also something else which exists and
which is the cause of this idea ; whereas, if there were
not found in me such an idea, I should have no argu-
ment which could convince me and make certain to
me the existence of any other thing than myself, for I
have examined them all carefully, and I have not been
able to find any other up to the present time.
But among all these ideas which are within me, be-
sides those which represent myself to me, in respect
to which there cannot be here any difficulty, there
is another which represents a God to me ; others,
things corporeal and inanimate ; others, angels ; others,
animals ; and others, finally, which represent to me
men like myself. But, so far as concerns the ideas
which represent to me other men, or animals, or
angels, I easily conceive that they may be formed by
the mixture and composition of ideas that I have of
things corporeal and of God, even although besides
myself there were no other men in the world, nor any
animals, nor any angels. And so far as concerns the
ideas of corporeal things, I do not recognize in them
anything so great or so excellent as might not possibly
have come from myself ; for when I consider them
more closely, and examine them in the same way in
which I examined yesterday the idea of the wax, I find
that there is but a very little in them that I can con-
ceive clearly and distinctly ; to wit, magnitude, or,
rather, extension in length, breadth, and depth ; figure,
136 THE PHILOSOPHY Of DESCARTES. [P A RT II
which results from the termination of this extension ;
position, which bodies differently shaped hold sever-
ally in respect to each other ; and motion, or change of
this position, to which there may be added substance,
duration, and number.
As for other things, such as light, colors, sounds,
odors, flavors, heat, cold, and other qualities which
fall under the sense of touch, they occur in my thought
in so much obscurity and confusion that I do not
know even whether they are true or false ; that is to
say, whether the ideas which I conceive of these quali-
ties are indeed ideas of any real things, or whether
they represent to me mere chimeras, which cannot
exist
But to speak truly, it is not necessary that I attrib-
ute to them any other author than myself ; for if
they be false, that is to say, if they represent things
which are not, the natural light makes me understand
that they proceed from nothing ; that is to say that
they are in me only because there is wanting some-
thing to my nature, and that it is not wholly perfect ;
and if these ideas be true, nevertheless, since they
manifest so little reality to me that I cannot distinguish
the thing represented from non-being, I do not see
why I may not be the author of them. As for the
clear and distinct ideas which I have of corporeal
things, there are some of them which it seems to
me I might have drawn from the idea that I have
of myself ; for instance, those I have of substance,
of duration, of number, and of other similar things.
For when I think that a stone is a substance, or a
thing which is capable of existing of itself, and that I
am also myself a substance ; although I conceive in-
deed that I am a thing which thinks and is not ex-
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 137
tended, and that the stone, on the contrary, is a thing
extended and which does not think, and that thus
between these two conceptions there is a notable dif-
ference, nevertheless they seem to agree in this re-
spect, that they both represent substances. Likewise,
when I think that I am now existing, and remember
besides having existed before, and when I conceive
many diverse thoughts, the number of which I know,
I then acquire the ideas within me of duration and
number, which, thereafter, I can transfer to all other
things as I please. As for the other qualities of
which the ideas of corporeal things are composed, to
wit, extension, figure, situation, and motion, it is true
that they are not formally within me, since I am only
a thing which thinks ; but because these are only
certain modes of substance, and I myself am a sub-
stance, it seems as if they might be contained within
me eminently.
There remains, therefore, the idea of God only, in
which it must be considered whether there be any-
thing which could not have come from myself.
By the name God I understand a substance infinite,
eternal, immutable, independent, omniscient, omnipo-
tent, and by which myself and all other things which
are (if it be true that any of these exist) have been
created and produced. But these prerogatives are so
great and so exalted that the more attentively I con-
sider them, the less am I persuaded that the idea
which I have of them can derive its origin from my-
self alone. And consequently it must necessarily be
inferred from all that I have said before that God
exists : for although the idea of substance may be in
me from the fact that I am a substance ; nevertheless
I, who am a finite being, should not have the idea of
138 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
an infinite substance, if it had not been put into me
by some substance which was in reality infinite.
And I ought not to imagine that I do not conceive
the infinite by a true idea, but solely by the negation
of what is finite, just as I comprehend rest and dark-
ness by the negation of motion and of light; since on
the contrary I see clearly that there is more reality in
infinite substance than in finite substance, and, accord-
ingly, that I have in me, in a certain sense, rather the
notion of the infinite than of the finite ; for how could
it be that I should know that I doubt and that I desire,
that is to say, that anything is wanting to me, and that
I am not in every respect perfect, unless I had in me
some idea of an existence more perfect than my own,
by comparison with which I should recognize the de-
fects of my own nature.
And it cannot be said that perhaps this idea is ma-
terially false, and consequently that I may derive it
from nothing, that is to say, that it may exist in me
because I have some defect, as I have already said of
the ideas of heat and cold, and other similar things ;
for, on the contrary, this idea being clear and very dis.
tinct, and containing in itself more objective reality
than any other, there is none which is in itself more
true, or which can less be suspected of error and
falsity.
This idea, I say, of a being supremely perfect and
infinite, is very true ; for although one may feign that
such a being does not exist, one, nevertheless, cannot
feign that the idea of it does not represent anything
real to me, as I said above of the idea of cold. It is
also very clear and very distinct, since all that my
mind conceives clearly and distinctly of reality and
truth, and which contains in itself any perfection, is
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 139
contained and summed up in this idea. And this still
remains true, although I do not comprehend the in-
finite, and there exists in God an infinitude of things
which I cannot comprehend, nor perhaps even attain
to any conception of them whatever, because it is of
the nature of the infinite that I, who am finite and
limited, cannot comprehend it ; and it is enough that
I well understand this, and that I judge that all things
that I conceive clearly, and in which I know there
is any perfection, and perhaps also an infinitude of
other things of which I am ignorant, are in God form-
ally or eminently, to render the idea which I have of
him the most true, the most clear, and the most dis-
tinct of all that are in my mind.*
But it may be also that I am something more than
I imagine, and that all the perfections which I attrib-
ute to the nature of a God are in some manner in
me potentially, though they have not yet presented
themselves and become manifest by their activity.
Indeed, I am aware already that my knowledge in-
creases and grows more perfect little by little, and I
do not see anything to prevent its increasing thus
more and more even to infinity ; nor even why, when
it has thus increased and grown perfect, I should not
be able to acquire by means of it all the other perfec-
tions of the Divine nature; nor, finally, why the capacity
which I have for the acquisition of these perfections
if it be true that it now exists within me should not
be sufficient to produce the ideas of them.
Nevertheless, on looking a little more closely at it,
I perceive that this cannot be ; for, in the first place,
although it may be true that my knowledge acquires
every day new degrees of perfection, and that there
* Cf. Kuno Fischer's Descartes (trans.), p. 358.
140 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART 1 1
may be in my nature many things potentially which
are not yet there in actuality, nevertheless, none of
these endowments pertain, nor do they in any degree
approximate, to the idea which I h#ve of Divinity, in
whom nothing is found merely in potentiality, but all
is there in actuality and reality. And, indeed, is it
not an infallible and very evident proof of imperfec-
tion in my knowledge, that it increases little by little
and by degrees is enlarged ? Moreover, although my
knowledge might become enlarged more and more,
still I do not fail to perceive that it could not become
actually infinite, since it will never arrive at so high
a point of perfection that it would not still be capable
of making further progress.
But I conceive God as actually infinite in so high
a degree that there can be nothing added to the su-
preme perfection which he possesses. And, finally, I
very well understand that the objective existence of
an idea cannot be caused by a being which exists
barely potentially, but solely by one which exists form-
ally or actually. And certainly, in all that I have
just said, I do not see anything which may not be
very easily comprehended by natural light on the part
of those who are willing to think upon it carefully ;
but, when I relax my attention a little, my mind be-
comes obscured, and, as it were, blinded by the images
of sensible objects, so that it does not readily recall
the reason why the idea which I have of a being more
perfect than my own must necessarily have been put
in me by a being who is in reality more perfect.
It is for this reason that I wish to go on further and
to consider whether I, who have this idea of God,
could exist in case there were no God. And I ask,
from whom have I my existence ? Perhaps from
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 141
self, or from my parents, or from other causes less
perfect than Go.d ; for nothing can be imagined more
perfect nor even equal to him. But if I were inde-
pendent of every other, and if I had been myself the
author of my being, I should not_have any_doubts f I
should not be conscious of desires, and, in fine, there
would not be wanting to me any perfection ; for I
should have endowed myself with all those of which
I have in myself any idea, and accordingly I should
be God. And I ought not to imagine that the things
which are wanting to me are, perhaps, more difficult to
acquire than those which I already possess ; for, on
the contrary, it is very certain that it had been much
more difficult that I that is to say, a thing or sub-
stance which thinks should proceed from nothing,
than that I should acquire light and knowledge of
many things] of which I am ignorant, and which are
only accidents of this substance
And although I might suppose that I had always
been as I am now, I cannot in that case escape the
force of this reasoning and fail to perceive that it is
necessary that God should be the author of my exist-
ence. For the whole duration of my life might be
divided into an infinitude of parts, each one of them
being dependent in no manner on the rest ; and so,
from the fact that I have existed just before, it does
not follow that I must now exist, except as some
cause at this moment produces me and creates me,
so to say, anew ; that is to say, preserves me. In
reality, it is a thing very clear and very evident to
all those who will consider with attention the nature
of time, that a substance, for its preservation during
all the moments of its duration, requires the same
power and the same act which would be necessary to
142 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
produce it and to create it de novo if it did not al-
ready exist ; so that it is something which the natural
light makes us see clearly, that conservation and
creation differ only in respect to our thought, and
not in reality.
I have, then, at this point only to ask myself and
make appeal to myself, to see whether I have in me
any power and any virtue, by means of which I could
cause that I who now exist should exist a moment
afterward ; because, since I am nothing but a thing
which thinks (or at least, since up to this time nothing
further has been considered than precisely this part
of myself), if such a power did reside in me, surely I
ought at least to conceive it and to have knowledge of
it ; but I am not_awareof any such thing in me, and
from that I know evidently that I depend upon some
being other than myself.
But it may be that this being on whom I depend
is not God, and that I was produced either by my
parents or by some other causes less perfect than he
is. But this cannot be true ; for, as I have already
said, it is a thing very evident that there must be at
least as much reality in the cause as in its effect ; and
consequently, since I am a thing which thinks and I
have in me some idea of a God, whatever may be the
ultimate cause of my being, it must necessarily be
admitted that it is also a thing which thinks, and that
it has in itself the idea of all the perfections which I
attribute to God. Then must the inquiry be renewed,
whether this cause derives its origin and its existence
from itself, or from something else. Because, if it
derive it from itself, it follows, from reasons which I
have already advanced, that this cause is God ; since,
having the power to be and to exist of itself, it must have
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 143
also without doubt the power to possess in actuality
all the perfections of which it has in itself the ideas,
that is to say, all those which I conceive to be in God.
But if it derive its existence from some other cause
than itself, it must be inquired anew, for the same
reason, of this second cause, whether it exists of itself
or through another, until, step by step, at last an ulti-
mate cause is reached, which will prove to be God.
And it is very manifest that in this there can be no
infinite regression, seeing that the question here is
not so much as to the cause which at some other time
brought me into being, as concerning that which at
the present moment keeps jue-in_being.
It cannot be supposed, further, that possibly many
causes together have concurred in producing me, and
that from one I have received the idea of one of the
perfections which I attribute to God, from another the
idea of some other, consequently that all these per-
fections are to be found, indeed, somewhere in the uni-
verse, but are not to be met with united and collected
in one sole being, which is God ; because, on the con-
trary, the unity, the simplicity, or the inseparability of
all things which are in God is one of the principal
perfections which I conceive to exist in him ; and
surely the idea of this unity of all the perfections of
God could not have been put into me by any cause
from which I did not also receive the ideas of all the
other perfections ; because it could not have brought it
about that I should comprehend all _these joined to-
gether and inseparable, without having caused, conse-
quently, at the same time, that I should know what
they were, and that I should become acquainted with
all of them in some degree.
Finally, so far as concerns my parents, to whom it
144 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
appears that I owe my birth, although all that I ever
could believe of them were true, it nevertheless could
not be true that it is they who keep me in existence,
nor even who made me and brought me forth in so far
as I am a thing which thinks ; there being no relation
between the corporeal action by which I am accus-
tomed to believe that they engendered me, and the
production of such a substance ; but what they at the
most contributed to my birth is that they put certain
dispositions into this matter in which I have judged
up to this time that I that is to say, my mind, which
alone I now take to be myself is inclosed ; and ac-
cordingly there cannot be here any difficulty in regard
to them, but it must necessarily be concluded, from
the fact alone that I exist, and that the idea of a being
supremely perfect that is to say, of God is in me,
the existence of God is very evidently demonstrated.*
There remains only to inquire how I have come by
this idea, for I did not receive it through the senses,
and it never presented itself contrary to my expecta-
tions, as the idea of sensible things commonly do, when
these things present themselves, or seem to do so, to
the exterior organs of sense ; it is not, moreover, a
* For other statements of the argument for the being of God,
see Discours de la Mtthode, pt. IV, (Euvres, t. i, pp. 159-163 ;
Veitch's trans., pp. 34-37 ; Principcs, i, 18-22, (Euvres, t. iii, pp.
74-78 ; Veitch's trans., pp. 201-203 ', Obj. et Rep., Props. I-III,
(Euvres, t. i, pp. 460-462 ; Veitch's trans. , App., pp. 271 272.
The above form of the argument, which is styled by Kuno
Fischer (Descartes, trans., p. 349) the anthropological proof, and
of which he remarks, "It is the real Cartesian proof of the
existence of God," should be compared with the strictly ontological
proof in the Fifth Meditation. The former demonstration is a
posteriori, its principle being the law of causality ; the latter is a
priori, and finds the existence in the idea of God. See below.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 145
pure product or fiction of my mind, for it is not in my
power to diminish or to add to it ; and, consequently,
there remains nothing else to be said but that this
idea was born and produced with me at the time when
I was created, just as was the idea of myself. And,
indeed, it should not be thought strange that God, in
creating me, should have put into me this idea to be,
as it were, the mark of the workman impressed upon
his work ; and moreover it is not necessary that this
mark should be anything different from this work it-
self ; but from the simple fact that God created me it
is very credible that he made me in some manner in
his own image and likeness ; and that I conceive this
resemblance, in which the idea of God is found con-
tained, by the same faculty by which I conceive my-
self, that is to say that, when I reflect upon myself,
not only do I take note that I am a thing imperfect,
incomplete, and dependent upon another, which strives
and aspires, without ceasing, toward something greater
and better than I am, but I recognize also, at the same
time, that he upon whom I depend possesses in him-
self all these great things to which I aspire, and of
which I find in myself the ideas, not indefinitely and
merely potentially, but that he has them in reality,
actually and infinitely, and, therefore, that he is God.
And the entire force of the argument which I have
here employed to prove the existence of God consists
in this, that I recognize the impossibility that my nature
should be what it is that is to say, that I should have
in me the idea of a God, if God did not in truth exist ;
that same God, I say, of whom there is in me the idea,
that is to say, who possesses all these high perfections
of which our mind can have even any faint idea with-
out being able, however, to comprehend them, who is
146 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
subject to no defects, and who has none of all those
things which imply imperfection. Whence it is clear
enough that he cannot be a deceiver, since the natural
light teaches us that deception necessarily depends on
some defect.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 147
FOURTH MEDITATION.
Of the true and the false.
.... ALREADY it seems to me that I am finding a
path which will conduct us from the contemplation of
this true God in whom are hid all the treasures of knowl-
edge and wisdom to the knowledge of the rest of the
universe. For, in the first place, I perceive that it is
impossible for him ever to deceive me, since in all
fraud and deceit there exists some sort of imperfec-
tion ; and although the ability to deceive may be a
mark of subtlety or of power, nevertheless the wish to
deceive shows unmistakable weakness or malice ; and,
therefore, it cannot be found in God. In the next
place, I know by my own experience that there exists
in me a certain faculty of judging, or of discriminating
the true from the false, which without doubt I have
received from God, as well as all the rest of the things
which are in me and which I possess ; and since it is
impossible that he should wish to deceive me, it is
also certain that he [has not bestowed upon me such
a faculty that I could ever fall into error so long as I
should use it rightly. There would remain no doubt
on this point, except that, apparently, this conse-
quence might follow, that in this case I could never
deceive myself ; because, if all that is in me comes
from God, and if he has not put in me any faculty of
error, it would appear that I should never make a mis-
take. And, indeed, it is true that, whenever I look
148 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
upon myself solely as coming from God, and turn my-
self wholly toward him, I do not discover in myself
any cause of error or untruth ; but immediately after-
ward, on returning to myself, experience makes me
aware that I am, nevertheless, liable to an infinitude of
errors, on seeking the cause of which I observe that
there is present to my thought not only a real and
positive idea of God, or, rather, of a being supremely
perfect ; but also, so to speak, a certain negative idea
of non-entity, that is to say, of that which is infinitely
removed from every sort of perfection ; and that I
am, as it were, a mean between God and non-entity,
that is to say, placed in some sort betwixt the Su-
preme Being and the non-existent, so that in truth
there can be found in me nothing which could lead
me into error, in so far as a Supreme Being has made
me ; but if I consider myself as participating in some
sort in non-entity or non-being, that is to say in so far
as I am not myself the Supreme Being, and that many
things are wanting to me, I find myself exposed to
an infinitude of defects ; so that I ought not to be
surprised if I fall into mistakes. And thus I perceive
that error, in so far as it is such, is nothing real which
depends upon God, but is solely a defect ; and there-
fore, in order to err, I do not need a faculty which
should be given me by God particularly for this end ;
but my deceiving myself arises from the fact that the
power which God has given me to discriminate the
false does not exist in me in an infinite degree. Nev-
ertheless I am not yet quite satisfied, for error is not
a pure negation, that is to say, it is not the simple
absence or defect of some perfection which does not
belong to me, but it is a privation of some knowledge
which it seems as if I ought to have. But on consid-
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 149
ering the nature of God, it does not seem possible
that he should have put into me any faculty which was
not perfect of its kind, that is to say, which should
want any perfection which belongs to it ; for, if it be
true that the more expert the artisan, the more per-
fect and complete are the works which come from his
hands, what thing can have been produced by the
Sovereign Creator of the universe which was not per-
fect and entirely finished in all its parts ? And, surely,
there is no doubt at all but that God might have
created me such that I could never have made mis-
takes ; it is certain, also, that he wills always that
which is the best ; is it, then, better that I should be
able to deceive myself than that I should not have the
power to do so ? On considering this point attentively
it occurs to my mind at once that I ought not to be
surprised if I am not capable of understanding why
God does what he does, and that I ought not on that
account to doubt of his existence, since, perhaps, I see
by experience many other things which exist, although
I cannot understand for what reason or how God made
them; for knowing already that my nature is extremely
weak and limited, and that the nature of God, on the
contrary, is boundless, incomprehensible, and infinite,
I can easily see that there is an infinitude of things
within his power the causes of which tie beyond the
range of my mind ; and this reason alone is sufficient
to persuade me that all that kind of causes, which is
commonly derived from the end, is of no use in things
physical or natural ; for it does not seem to me that I
can without temerity pry into and try to discover the
impenetrable purposes of God.*
* We shall not, also, stop to inquire after the ends which God
proposed to himself in creating the world, and we entirely exclude
150 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
Moreover it further occurs to my mind that a single
creature should not be considered separately, when
inquiry is made whether the works of God are perfect,
but generally all creatures taken together ; because
the very same thing which might with some sort of
reason seem very imperfect, if it were the only thing
in existence, might not fail of being very perfect,
when considered as forming a part of the whole uni-
verse * ; and although, since I have formed the plan
of doubting everything, I might not certainly know
aught beyond my own existence and that of God,
nevertheless also, since I have become aware of the
infinite power of God, I cannot deny that he has pro-
duced many other things, consequently that I exist
and am placed in the world as forming a part of the
universal whole of being.
In the next place, on looking at myself more closely,
and considering what my errors are, which of them-
selves bear witness that there is imperfection in me, I
find that they depend on the concurrence of two
causes, to wit, the faculty of knowing which is in me
from our philosophy the investigation of final causes ; for we
should not be so arrogant as to presume that God desired to impart
to us his plans ; but, while regarding him as the author of all
things, we shall attempt simply to discover, through the faculty of
reasoning he has put within us, how the things which we perceive
by the medium of our senses might have been produced ; and we
shall be warranted, by those of his attributes of which he has willed
that we have some knowledge, that what we shall have once per-
ceived clearly and distinctly to belong to the nature of these things
has the perfection of being true. Principes, I, 28 ((Euvres, t. iii,
p. 81).
*This thought was elaborated by Leibnitz in his Thtodich
and forms the principal support of his optimistic theory. Cf,
Butler's Analogy, pt. i, ch. vii.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 151
and the faculty of choosing, or rather of my free will,
that is to say, upon my understanding and my will
together. For by the understanding alone I do not
affirm nor deny anything, but I simply conceive the
ideas of things, which I can affirm or deny. But
when considering the matter thus strictly, one may
say that he does not find in himself any error, provided
the term error is taken in its proper signification.
And although there may be an infinity of things in
the world of which I have no idea in my understand-
ing, it cannot be said on that account that it is de-
prived of these ideas, as of something properly be-
longing to its nature, but simply that it does not have
them ; because, in truth, there is no reason by which
it could be shown that God ought to have given me a
greater and more ample faculty of knowing than that
which he has given me ; and no matter how skillful
and wise the workman I represent to myself, I am
not bound for that reason to think that he ought to
put into each one of his works all those perfections
that he may put into some of them. Also, I cannot
complain that God did not give me a free will, or a
will ample and perfect enough, since in reality I find
it so ample and so far-reaching that it is not inclosed
within any bounds. And what appears to me here
quite remarkable is that of all other things which
exist within me there is none so perfect and so great
that I am not well aware that it might be still greater
and more perfect. For, for example, if I consider
the faculty of conceiving which is in me, I find that
it has a very narrow range and is greatly limited, and
at the same time I represent to myself the idea of an-
other faculty much more ample and even infinite ;
and from the simple fact that I can represent to my-
l2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
self the idea of it, I easily perceive that it belongs to
the nature of God. In the same way, if I examine
memory or imagination, or whatever other faculty
there may be in me, I do not find any that is not very
small and limited, and which in God is not immense
and infinite.
It is will alone, or freedom of choice, that I find to
be in me so great that I do not conceive the idea of
anything else greater or of wider range ; so that it is
this chiefly which makes me know that I bear the image
and likeness of God. Because, although it may be in-
comparably greater in God than in me, whether on
account of the knowledge and the power which are
joined with it and which make it more steadfast and
efficient, or on account of its object, inasmuch as it
directs itself and extends itself to an infinitely greater
number of things, nevertheless it does not seem to me
to be any greater, if I consider it formally and strictly
in itself. For it consists simply in this, that we are
able to do a thing or not to do it, that is to say, to
affirm or deny, to pursue or avoid the same thing, or
rather it consists solely in this, that in affirming or
denying, in pursuing or avoiding the things which
understanding presents to us, we act in such a manner
that we do not feel ourselves constrained by any ex-
ternal force. For, that I may be free, it is not neces-
sary that I should be indifferent in .choosing one or
the other of two contrary things ; but rather, the more
I incline toward one, whether it be that I clearly know
that the good and the true meet in it, or that God
thus disposes my thought within me, by so much the
more freely do I choose and embrace it ; and surely
divine grace and natural knowledge, far from diminish-
ing my liberty, the rather increase and strengthen it ;
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 153
so that this indifference which I feel when I am not
carried toward one side rather than toward another
by the weight of any reason, is the lowest degree of
liberty, and makes apparent rather a defect in knowl-
edge than a perfection in will ; for if I always knew
clearly the true and the good, I should never be at
any loss to decide what judgment and what choice I
ought to make ; and thus I should be entirely free
without ever being indifferent.
From all this I perceive that neither the power of
willing, which I have received from God, is of itself
the cause of my errors, for it is very ample and very
perfect in its kind, nor also the power of understand-
ing or conceiving ; for, not conceiving anything except
by means of that power which God has given me for
conceiving, without doubt, all that I conceive, I con-
ceive as it should be, and it is not possible that in that I
should deceive myself. Whence, then, arise my errors ?
It is from this circumstance alone, that the will being
much more ample and far-reaching than the under-
standing, I do not keep it within the same limits, but I
extend it also to things which I do not understand ;
to which being of itself indifferent, it very easily goes
astray, and chooses the false in place of the true, and
the evil in place of the good ; and that is what causes
me to err and to sin.*
For example, upon examining during these days
just gone by whether anything truly existed in the
world, and becoming aware that, from the simple fact
that I had raised that question, it followed very evi-
dently that I myself existed, I could not avoid the
conclusion that what I conceived so clearly was true;
*Cf. Princ., Pt. I, 31-44. See Veitch, trans, pp. 207-2x2.
154 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
not that I found myself forced to it by any external
cause, but solely because upon a great clearness in my
understanding * there followed a strong inclination in
my will ; and I was inclined the more freely to believe
this, in proportion as I felt the less indifference. On
the contrary, now I do not know solely that I exist, in
so far as I am something which thinks ; but there is
present also to my mind a certain idea of the corpo-
real nature ; which makes me question whether this
nature which thinks, which is within me, or rather
which I myself am, is different from this corporeal na-
ture, or whether both are not one and the same ; and
I assume here that I know as yet of no reason to in-
cline me to the one view rather than to the other :
whence it follows that I am entirely indifferent as re-
gards a denial or an affirmation, or, indeed, as to
whether I abstain from any judgment in the matter.
* Cf. Hobbes' objection and Descartes' reply ((Euvres, t. i, pp.
496-498).
Objection. This way of speaking, a great clearness in the un-
derstanding, is metaphorical, and accordingly is not fit to intro-
duce into an argument : now he who has no doubt pretends to
have such a clearness, and his will has no less inclination to af-
firm that of which he has no doubt than has the man who pos-
sesses perfect knowledge. This clearness, then, may very well be
the cause why a man shall hold and obstinately defend any opin-
ion, but it can never make him know with certainty that it is
true. [Cf. Mahaffy's remarks, Descartes, p. 96.]
Reply. It matters little whether this way of speaking be fit or
not to introduce into an argument, provided it be fit to express
clearly our thought, as it does. For there is nobody who does not
know that by this word, a clearness in the understanding, is meant
a clearness or perspicuity of knowledge that not everyone who
thinks possesses ; but that does not prevent its being altogether
different from an obstinate opinion conceived without evident per-
ception.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 155
And this indifference extends not merely to things
concerning which the understanding has no knowl-
edge, but in general also to all things which it does
not discover with perfect clearness at the moment
when the will deliberates upon them ; for, however
probable may be the conjectures which incline me to
pass a judgment, the simple recognition of the fact
that they are only conjectures, and not certain and
indubitable reasons, is enough to afford me occasion
to pass an opposite judgment, and this I have had suf-
ficient experience of during these days just passed,
when I have set down as false all that I have hitherto
held to be quite true, simply because I have observed
that some doubt could be entertained in regard to it.
Now if I abstain from passing judgment upon any-
thing, so long as I do not conceive it with sufficient
clearness and distinctness, it is manifest that I do
well, and that I am not deceived ; but if I allow my-
self to deny or affirm, then I do not use my free will
as I ought ; and if I affirm what is not true, it is evi-
dent that I deceive myself ; and likewise, although I
judge according to truth, that happens only by chance,
and I still go wrong and make bad use of my free-
dom ; for the natural light teaches us that the knowl-
edge of the understanding ought always to precede
the determination of the will.* And it is in this bad
use of freedom that the privation is found which
forms the essence of error.
Privation, I say, is found in the act so far as it pro-
ceeds from myself, but it is not found in the faculties
which I have received from God, nor even in the act
in so far as it depends upon him. For certainly 1 have
*Cf. Abelard's dictum : Non credendum, nisi prius intellectum.
Introd. ii, 3 Shedd's His!, of Chr. Doct., vol. i, p. 186.
156 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART It
no ground for complaint in that God has not given
me an intelligence more ample, or a natural light
more perfect, than that which he has bestowed upon
me, since it is of the nature of a finite understanding
not to comprehend many things, and of the nature of
a created understanding to be finite ; but I have every
reason to render thanks to him in that, while he owed
nothing whatever, he has yet given me all the few per-
fections there are in me ; and I am far from enter-
taining sentiments so unjust as to imagine that he has
deprived me of, or unjustly held back from me, other
perfections with which he has not endowed me.
I have likewise no ground for complaint in that he
has given me a will more ample in its range than my
understanding, since the will consisting only in a
single thing, and, as it were, in something indivisible,
it appears that its nature is such that nothing could
be taken from it without destroying it ; and surely the
more range it has, the more cause have I to thank the
goodness of him who gave it me.
And finally, I ought not to complain on the ground
that God concurs with me in producing the acts of
this will, that is to say, judgments in which I deceive
myself, because these acts are entirely true and abso-
lutely good, in so far as they depend upon God, and
there is in some sort more perfection in my nature, in
that I am able to perform them, than if I were not
able to do so. As for privation, in which alone con-
sists the formal cause of error and of sin, that does
not require any concurrence of God, because it is not
a thing or a being, and if it be referred to God as its
cause, it should not be called privation, but simply
negation, according to the signification given to these
terms in the school. For in reality it is no imperfec-
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 157
tion in God that he has given me the liberty of pass-
ing judgment, or of not doing so, on certain things
concerning which he has not put a clear and dis-
tinct knowledge in my understanding ; but, without
doubt, it is in me an imperfection that I do not use
well this liberty, and that I rashly give my judgment
upon things which I conceive only obscurely and
confusedly.
I see, nevertheless, that it would be easy for God to
cause that I never should fall into error, although I
still remained free and limited in my knowledge :
thus, if he had given to my understanding a clear and
distinct knowledge of all the things on which I should
ever have to deliberate, or, if you please, if he had
engraved on my memory, so deeply that I never could
forget it, the resolution never to judge of anything
without clearly and distinctly conceiving it. And,
indeed, I admit that, in so far as I consider myself
alone, as if there were no other than myself in the
world, I should have been much more perfect than I
am, if God had so created me that I should never
have erred ; but I cannot, for that, deny that it would
be in some sort a greater perfection in the universe
if some of its parts should not be exempt from defect,
while others were, than if they all should be alike.*
And I have no right to complain that God, when he
put me into the world, did not choose to put me into
the rank of things most noble and most perfect ;
rather, I have reason to be content with this, that if
he has not granted to me the perfection of not falling
into error, by the first means, which I have mentioned
above, which depends on a clear and certain knowledge
of all the things on which I may deliberate, he has at
* See above, p. 150.
158 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
least left in my power the other means, which is firmly
to keep the resolution never to give my judgment on
things the truth concerning which is not clearly known
to me ; for, although I experience in myself this weak-
ness of not being able to hold my mind constantly to
one thought, I am, nevertheless, able, by attentive and
often repeated meditation, to impress it so strongly on
my memory that I never fail to recollect it whenever
I have need of it, and thus to acquire the habit of
not making mistakes ; and, inasmuch as in this con-
sists the greatest and principal perfection of man, I
consider that I have gained not a little to-day, in hav-
ing discovered the cause of error and falsity.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 159
FIFTH MEDITATION.
Of the essence of material things ; and, again, of the
existence of God.
MANY other things remain to me to be considered
in regard to the attributes of God, and in regard to my
own nature, that is to say, that of my mind ; but per-
haps I will renew the inquiry at another time. At
present, having observed what it is necessary to do or
to avoid, in order to arrive at a knowledge of truth,
what I have principally to do is to attempt to advance
and deliver myself of all the doubts into which I have
fallen in these past days, and to see if I cannot know
something certain in regard to material things. But
before I inquire whether there are such things exist-
ing without me, I ought to consider the ideas of them,
in so far as they exist in my thought, and to see what
are distinct and what are confused. In the first place,
I distinctly imagine that quantity which philosophers
call continuous quantity, or rather the extension in
length, breadth, and thickness which is in this quan-
tity, or rather in the thing to which they attribute it.
Moreover, I can enumerate in it many different
parts, and attribute to each one of these parts all sorts
of magnitudes, figures, positions, and movements ; and
finally, I can assign to each of these movements all
sorts of duration. And I recognize these things with
distinctness not only when I consider them thus in
general ; but also, for the little time that I have given
my attention to it, I have come to recognize an in-
l6o THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
finitude of particulars in regard to numbers, figures,
motions, and other similar things, the truth of
which makes itself apparent with so much evidence,
and accords so well with my nature, that when I be-
gin to discover them it does not seem to me that I am
learning anything new, but rather that I am recalling
to mind something which I knew before ;* that is to say,
that 1 become conscious of things which were already
in my mind, although I had not yet turned my thought
toward them. And of what I find here the most im-
portant is that I discover in myself an infinitude of
ideas of certain things which cannot be regarded as a
pure non-entity, although perhaps they have no exist-
ence outside my thought ; and things which are
not mere fancies of mine, although I am at liberty
to think them or not to think them ; but which have
a true and unchangeable nature. As, for example,
when I imagine a triangle, although there may not be
anywhere in the world, outside my thought, such a
figure, nor ever have been, there is not wanting,
nevertheless, a certain nature, form, or determinate
essence of this figure, which is immutable and eternal,
which I did not invent, and which does not depend in
any way on my mind ; as appears from the fact that
there may be demonstrated divers properties of this
triangle, to wit, that its three angles are equal to two
right angles, that its greatest angle is subtended by
its greatest side, and other similar truths, which now,
whether I will or no, I recognize very clearly and very
evidently as being in it, although I had not before
thought of it in this way when for the first time
* Cf. Plato, doctrine of reminiscence. Meno, 81 ; Jowett's
trans., vol. i. p. 283, Oxford ed.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 161
I imagined a triangle ; and accordingly it cannot
be said that I have fancied or invented these
things.
And I make nothing here of the objection that per-
haps this idea of the triangle has come into mind
through the medium of my senses, from my having
seen sometimes bodies of a triangular shape ; for I can
form in my mind an infinitude of other figures, of
which there cannot be the least suspicion that they
ever fell under the observation of my senses, and yet
I should not be wanting in power to demonstrate
divers properties belonging to their nature, as well as
those which belong to that of the triangle ; which,
certainly, must all be true, since I clearly conceive
them ; and therefore they are something, and not
pure non-entity ; for it is very evident that everything
that is true is something, truth being identical with
existence ; and I have already fully demonstrated
above that all things that I clearly and distinctly know
are true. And although I had not demonstrated it,
nevertheless the nature of my mind is such that I can-
not restrain myself from regarding them as true so
long as I conceive them clearly and distinctly ; and I
remind myself that at the very time when I was still
strongly bound to the objects of sense I set down
among the most certain truths those which I con-
ceive clearly and distinctly in regard to figures,
mimbers, and the other things which belong to arith-
metic and geometry.
But now, if from the simple fact that I can draw from
my thought the idea of anything it follows that all that
I recognize clearly and distinctly to pertain to this
thing pertains to it in reality, can I not draw from
162 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
this an argument and a demonstration of the exis-
tence of God ?* It is certain that I do not find in me
the less the idea of him, that is, of a being supremely
perfect, than that of any figure or of any number
whatever ; and I do not know less clearly and distinctly
that an actual and eternal existence belongs to his na-
ture than I know that all that I can demonstrate of any
figure or of any number belongs truly to the nature of
that figure or that number : and accordingly, although
all that I have concluded in the preceding meditations
may not turn out to be true, the existence of God
ought to pass in my mind as being at least as certain
as I have up to this time regarded the truths of mathe-
matics to be, which have to do only with numbers
and figures : although, indeed, that might not seem
at first to be perfectly evident, but might appear to have
some appearance of sophistry. For being accus-
tomed in all other things to make a distinction be-
tween existence and essence, I easily persuade myself
that existence may perhaps be separated from the es-
sence of God, and thus God might be conceived as
not existent actually. But nevertheless, when I think
more attentively, I find that existence can no more
be separated from the essence of God than from
the essence of a rectilinear triangle can be separated
the equality of its three angles to two right angles,
or, indeed, if you please, from the idea of a moun-
tain the idea of a valley ; so that there would be
* Cf. argument in Med. Ill, above, pp. 126-146.
For a statement of the difference between the ontological ar-
gument of Descartes and that of St. Thomas (of Anselm originally)
see the Reply to Caterus ((Euvres, t. i, p. 389). The Anselmic
argument (Proslogion, c. 2, 4) may be found stated in Shedd's
Hist, of Chr. Doct., vol. i, p. 231 et seq.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 163
no less contradiction in conceiving of a God that
is, of a being supremely perfect, to whom existence
was wanting, that is to say, to whom there was want-
ing any perfection than in conceiving of a mountain
which had no valley.
But although, in reality, I might not be able to con-
ceive of a God without existence, no more than of a
mountain without a valley, nevertheless, as from the
simple fact that I conceive a mountain with a valley,
it does not follow that there exists any mountain in the
world, so likewise, although I conceive God as exist-
ent, it does not follow, it seems, from that, that God
exists, for my thought does not impose any necessity
on things ; and as there is nothing to prevent my
imagining a winged horse, although there is none
which has wings, so I might, perhaps, be able to at-
tribute existence to God, although there might not be
any God which existed. So far from this being so, it
is just here under the appearance of this objection
that a sophism lies hid ; for from the fact that I
cannot conceive a mountain without a valley, it does
not follow that there exists in the world any mountain
or any valley, but solely that the mountain and the
valley, whether they exist or not, are inseparable from
one another ; whereas, from the fact alone that I can-
not conceive God except as existent, it follows that
existence is inseparable from him, and, consequently,
that he exists in reality ; not that my thought can
make it to be so, or that it can impose any necessity
upon things ; but on the contrary the necessity which
is in the thing itself, that is to say, the necessity
of the existence of God, determines me to have this
thought.
For it is not at my will to conceive of a God with-
164 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
out existence, that is to say, a being supremely perfect
without a supreme perfection, as it is at my will to
conceive a horse with wings or without wings.
And it must not also be said here that it is neces-
sarily true that I should affirm that God exists, after
I have supposed him to possess all kinds of perfec-
tion, since existence is one of these, but that my
first supposition is not necessary, no more than it is
necessary to affirm that all figures of four sides may
be inscribed in the circle, but that, supposing I had
this thought, I should be constrained to admit that the
rhombus can be inscribed there, since it is a figure of
four sides, and thus I should be constrained to admit
something false. One ought not, I say, to allege this ;
for although it may not be necessary that I should
ever fall to thinking about God, nevertheless, when it
happens that I think upon a being first and supreme,
and draw, so to speak, the idea of him from the store-
house of mind, it is necessary that I attribute to him
every sort of perfection, although I may not go on to
enumerate them all, and give attention to each one in
particular. And this necessity is sufficient to bring it
about (as soon as I recognize that I should next con-
elude that existence is a perfection) that this first and
supreme being exists : while, just as it is not necessary
that I ever imagine a triangle, but whenever I choose
to consider a rectilineal figure, composed solely of
three angles, it is absolutely necessary that I attrib-
ute to it all the things which serve for the conclusion
that these three angles are not greater than two right
angles, although, perhaps, I did not then consider this
in particular.
But when I inquire what figures are capable of being
inscribed in the circle, it is in no way necessary that I
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 165
think that all figures of four sides are of this number.
On the contrary, I cannot ever fancy this to be the case,
in so far as I am willing to receive into my thought
only that which I can conceive clearly and distinctly.
Consequently there is a great difference between false
suppositions, such as this, and the true ideas, which
are born with me, of which the first and principal is
that of God. For, in truth, I recognize in many ways
that this idea is not anything fancied or invented,
depending solely on my thought, but it is the image
of a veritable and immutable nature ; first, because I
cannot conceive any other thing than God alone, to
the essence of which existence pertains by necessity,
moreover, also, because it is not possible for me to
conceive two or more Gods such as he is ; and grant-
ing that there is one such who now exists, I see clearly
that it is necessary that he should have existed from
all eternity, and that he will exist eternally in the fu-
ture, and finally, because I conceive many other things
in God wherein I can diminish or change nothing
whatever. As for the rest, whatever proof or argu-
ment I may employ, it is always necessary to return to
this, that it is only the things which I conceive clearly
and distinctly that have the force to produce complete
conviction.
And although, among the things which I conceive
in this manner, there are indeed some of them clearly
known by everybody, and there are others also which
are not discovered except by those who consider them
more closely, and who investigate them more exactly,
nevertheless, after they are once discovered, they are
reckoned no less certain than the former. As, for ex-
ample, in every right-angled triangle, although it may
not at first appear so readily that the square of the
l66 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
base is equal to the squares of the other two sides, as
it is plain that this base is opposite the greatest angle,
nevertheless, after this is once recognized, one is as
much persuaded of the one truth as of the other.
And as respects God, surely, if my mind were not
hindered by any prejudices, and my thought did not
find itself diverted by the continual presence of the
images of sensible things, there would be nothing
which I should not sooner and more readily know than
him. For is there anything of itself more clear and
more evident than the thought that there is a God ;
that is to say, a being supreme and perfect in the idea
of which alone necessary or eternal existence is com-
prised, and consequently who exists ?
And, although, for the right conceiving of this truth,
I might have need of great application of mind, never-
theless, at present, I not only consider myself as much
assured of it as of anything that seems to me most
certain, but I observe, in addition, that the certainty
of all other things depends so absolutely upon it, that
without this knowledge it is impossible to be able ever
to know anything perfectly. Because, although I am
of such a nature that, immediately on comprehending
anything very clearly and very distinctly, I cannot
help believing it to be true ; nevertheless, because I
am also of such a nature that I cannot keep my mind
continually fixed upon the same thing, and because I
remember that I have often judged something to be
true, yet when I stopped thinking of the reasons which
obliged me to judge it to be so, it might happen dur-
ing that time that other reasons would present them-
selves to me, which would easily make me change my
opinion, if I did not know that there was a God ; and
thus I should have no true and certain knowledge of
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 167
anything whatever, but solely vague and wavering
opinions. As, for example, when I am considering
the nature of the rectilinear triangle, I perceive
clearly, since I am somewhat versed in geometry, that
its three angles are equal to two right angles ; and it
is impossible for me not to believe it, so long as I apply
my mind to the demonstration of it ; but as soon as
I turn away from it, although I might remember hav-
ing clearly comprehended it, nevertheless it might
easily happen that I should doubt its truth, if I did
not know that there was a God ; for I might persuade
myself that I had been so made by nature that I could
easily deceive myself even in things that I believed I
comprehended with most evidence and certitude ;
especially since I recollect that I have often con-
sidered many things true and certain, which, for other
reasons, I have afterward been led to pronounce
absolutely false.
But after I have recognized the existence of a
God, and because I have at the same time recognized
the fact that all things depend upon him, and that he
is no deceiver, and in consequence of that I have
judged that all that I conceive clearly and distinctly
cannot fail to be true, although I do not think longer
on the reasons on account of which I have held it to
be true, provided solely that I recollect having clearly
and distinctly understood it, no opposing reason can
be brought against me which should make me ever
call it in question ; and thus I have a true and certain
knowledge of it. And this same knowledge extends
also to all the other things which I recollect having
formerly demonstrated, as the truths of geometry and
others like them ; for what is there which can be
objected to oblige me to call them in question ? Will
l68 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
it be that my nature is such that I am very liable to
be mistaken ? But I know already that I cannot
deceive myself in judgments the reasons for which I
clearly perceive. Will it be that I have formerly
regarded many things as true and certain which after-
ward I have discovered to be false ? But I did not
perceive any of those things clearly and distinctly,
and, not knowing as yet this rule whereby I assure
myself of truth, I was led to believe them for reasons
that I have since recognized to be less strong than at
that time I imagined them to be. What, then, can be
objected further ? Will it be that perhaps I am asleep
(as I myself have objected heretofore), or rather that
all the thoughts which I now have are no more true
than the dreams that we imagine when asleep ?
But even if I am asleep, all that presents itself to
my mind with evidence is absolutely true. And thus
I recognize very clearly that the certainty and the
truth of all knowledge depend on the knowledge
alone of the true God : so that before I knew him I
could not perfectly know anything else. And now
that I know him, I have the means of acquiring a
perfect knowledge of an infinitude of things, not only
of those which are in him, but also of those which
belong to corporeal nature, in so far as it can be made
the object of geometrical demonstrations, which do
not consider it in respect to its existence.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 169
SIXTH MEDITATION.
Of the existence of material things, and of the real dis-
tinction between the soul and the body of man.
THERE remains to me further only to inquire
whether there are any material things ; and surely
I know already that they can exist, at least in so far
as they are regarded as the object of geometrical
demonstrations, seeing that in this way I conceive
them very clearly and very distinctly. For there is
no doubt but that God has the power to produce
everything that I am capable of conceiving with dis-
tinctness ; and I never held that it was impossible for
him to do anything except on the ground alone that
I discovered contradiction in the conception of it.
Moreover, the faculty of imagination which exists
within me, and of which I see by experience that I
make use whenever I apply myself to the considera-
tion of material things, is capable of persuading me of
their existence ; for when I consider attentively the
nature of imagination, I find that it is nothing else
than a certain application of the faculty of knowledge
to a body which is immediately present to it, and
which therefore exists. And to make this very evi-
dent I observe, first, the difference between imagina-
tion and pure intellection or conception. For in-
stance, when I imagine a triangle, not only do I
conceive that it is a figure composed of three lines,
but along with that I imagine these three lines as
present, by the force and internal application of my
170 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
mind ; and it is precisely this which I call imagining.
Whereas, if I desire to think of a chiliagon, I conceive
indeed that it is a figure composed of a thousand
sides as easily as I conceive that a triangle is a figure
composed of three sides only ; but I cannot imagine
the thousand sides of a chiliagon as I do the three
sides of a triangle, nor, so to speak, do I see them
present with the eyes of my mind.
And although, in consequence of the habit I have
of always using my imagination when I think of cor-
poreal things, it happens that on conceiving a chiliagon
I represent confusedly to myself some figure, never-
theless it is very evident that this figure is not a
chiliagon, since it does not differ at all from that
which I should represent to myself if I were thinking
of a myriagon or of any other figure having a great
many sides ; and it would not serve in any way in
the discovery of the properties which distinguish the
chiliagon from other polygons. Whereas, if the sub-
ject of consideration is a pentagon, it is very true that
I can conceive its figure, as indeed that of a chilia-
gon, without the aid of the imagination ; but I can
also imagine it, by giving my mind's attention to each
of its five sides, and to the whole of them together, in
respect to air or the space which they inclose.
Thus I see clearly that I require a particular effort
of mind for imagining anything of which I do not
make use for conceiving or understanding ; and this
particular mental effort shows clearly the difference
between imagination and intellection or pure concep-
tion.* I observe, moreover, that this power of imagin-
ing which is within me, in so far as it differs from the
* Cf. Leibnitz, De Cognitione, Veritate et Ideis, Opera Philo-
sophica, p. 79, Erdmann, 1840.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 171
power of conceiving, is in no way necessary to my
nature or to my essence, that is to say, to the essence
of my mind ; for, even if I did not have it, there is no
doubt I should remain always the same that I am
now ; whence, apparently, we may conclude that it
depends on something which is different from my
mind. And I easily conceive that if somebody exists,
to which my mind is so joined and united that it may
apply itself to the consideration of it whenever it may
please, it may be by this means that it imagines cor-
poreal things ; so that this mode of thought differs
from pure intellection solely in this : that the mind, in
conceiving, turns itself in a manner toward itself and
considers some one of the ideas which it has in itself ;
but, in imagining, it turns itself toward the body and
considers in it something conformed to the idea which
it has formed itself, or which it has received through
the senses. I easily conceive, I say, that imagination
may do something of this sort, if it be true that there
are bodies ; and because I cannot find any other way
of explaining how it happens, I conjecture from this
that probably they exist ; but only probably ; and
although I carefully investigate everything, I never-
theless do not find, from this distinct idea of corporeal
nature which I have in my imagination, that I can
draw any argument which necessitates the conclusion
that a body exists.
But I have been wont to imagine many other things
besides this corporeal nature which is the object of
geometry, to wit, colors, sounds, flavors, pain, and
other things similar, although less distinctly ; and,
inasmuch as I perceive these things much better by
the senses, through the medium of which and of the
memory they seem to be brought before my imagina-
172 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
tion, I think that, in order to examine them more
conveniently, it is fitting that I inquire at the same
time what it is to feel ; and that I see whether from
these ideas that I receive into my mind by this mode
of thought which I call feeling, I cannot draw some
certain proof of the existence of corporeal things.
And, in the first place, I shall call up to mind what
things I have hitherto held to be true, as having
received them through the senses, and upon what
foundations my belief rested ; afterward I shall
examine the reasons which have since obliged me to
call them in question ; and, finally, I shall consider
what I ought at present to believe.
First, then, I felt that I had a head, hands, feet, and
all the other members of which this body is composed,
which I considered as a part of myself or perhaps
even as the whole ; moreover, I felt that this body
was placed among many others, from which it was
capable of receiving various impressions, favorable
and unfavorable, and I took notice of the favorable
through a certain feeling of pleasure or delight, and
of those unfavorable through a feeling of pain. And
besides this pleasure and this pain, I had the sensa-
tions within me also of hunger, thirst, and other
similar appetites ; as also of certain bodily inclina-
tions toward joy and sadness, anger and other like
passions. And externally, besides extension, figures,
movements of bodies, I observed in them hardness,
warmth, and all the other qualities which fall under
touch ; moreover, I observed light, colors, odors,
tastes, and sounds, the variety of which afforded me
means of distinguishing the sky, the earth, the sea,
and, in general, all other bodies one from another.
And surely, considering the ideas of all these qualities
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 173
which presented themselves to my thought, and which
alone I properly and immediately felt, it was not with-
out reason that I believed that I felt things entirely
different from my thought, to wit, bodies, whence
proceeded these ideas ; for I discovered that they
presented themselves to it without requiring my con-
sent thereto, so that I could not perceive any object,
however I might desire it, if it did not happen to be
present to the organ of some one of my senses ; and
it was not in my power not to perceive it whenever it
should be present there.
And because the ideas that I received by the senses
were much more lively, more vivid, and even in their
way more distinct, than any of those which I could
fashion of myself in meditation, or even than I found
impressed upon my memory, it seemed that they
could not proceed from my mind ; so that it was
necessary that they should be caused in me by ex-
ternal things. Of which things since I had no knowl-
edge, except this, that they gave me these ideas, noth-
ing else could occur to me but that these external
things were like the ideas which they caused. And
because I reminded myself also that I more frequently
used my senses than my reason, and I took notice
that the ideas which I formed of myself were not so
vivid as those which I received through the senses,
and also that they were oftener made up of parts than
the latter were, I easily persuaded myself that I had
no idea in my mind which had not first passed through
my senses. It was not without reason, also, that I
believed that this body, which by a certain peculiar
right I called my own, belonged to me more properly
and more strictly than any other ; for, in reality, I
could never be separated from it as from other bodies;
174 THE PHILOSOPHY ov DESCARTES. [PART II
I experienced in it and on account of it all my appe-
tites and all my passions ; and, finally, I was affected
with feelings of pleasure and of pain in its members,
and not in those of other bodies which were separate
from it. But when I inquired why, from this indefinite
feeling of pain sadness arose in the mind, and from
the feeling of pleasure joy sprang up, or, if you please,
why this vague feeling of the stomach, which I call
hunger, should cause us to desire to eat, and the dry-
ness of the throat should cause us to desire to drink,
and so of the rest, I could assign no reason for it
except that nature had so taught me ; for there is,
surely, no affinity nor relationship, at least none that I
could comprehend, between this feeling of the stomach
and the desire to eat, no more than between the feeling
of the thing which causes pain and the thought of
sadness to which this feeling gives birth.
And in the same way it seemed to me that I had
learned from nature all the other things that I judged
to be true concerning the objects of my senses ; be-
cause I observed that the judgments that I was accus-
tomed to make of these objects formed themselves in
me before I had time to deliberate and consider any
reasons which should oblige me to make them.
But afterward many experiences destroyed, little by
little, all the confidence I had reposed in my senses ;
for I observed many times that towers, which from a
distance seemed to me to be round, near at hand ap-
peared to me to be square, and that colossal figures
raised upon the very high summits of these towers
appeared to me to be small statues when looked at
from below ; and so, in a multitude of other experi-
ences, I have discovered error in judgments based
upon the external senses ; and not only upon the
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 175
external senses, but even upon the internal ; for is
there anything more personal or more internal than
pain ? and, nevertheless, I have sometimes heard of
persons who had their arms and legs cut off, that it
still seemed to them sometimes that they felt pain in
the part which no longer belonged to them ; which
circumstance has given me ground to think that I my-
self could not be quite sure that anything was the
matter with any of my members even if I did feel pain
in it.
And to these reasons for doubt I further added,
not long since, two others quite general ; the first is
that I never believed myself to perceive anything when
awake that I could not also believe I perceived when
asleep ; and as I did not believe that the things that
I thought I perceived when asleep proceeded from
any objects outside of me, I did not see why I ought
any more to have this confidence in respect to those
which I thought I perceived when awake ; and the
second, that not knowing yet, or rather feigning that
I did not know, the author of my being, I did not see
anything to hinder that I might not have been so made
by nature that I might deceive myself even in things
which appeared to me the most certain.
And as for the arguments which hitherto persuaded
me of the truth of sensible things, I had no great dif-
ficulty in answering them ; for nature appearing to
carry me toward many things from which reason
turned me aside, I did not believe I ought to trust
very much to the teachings of this nature.
And although the ideas which I received by the
senses did not depend upon my will, I did not con-
clude on that account that they proceeded from things
different from myself, since, perhaps, there might be
176 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
found in me some faculty, although it might be up to
the present unknown to me, which was the cause of
them, and which produced them. But now that I am
beginning to understand myself better, and to dis-
cover more clearly the source of my being, I do not
think in truth that I ought rashly to admit all the
things which the senses appear to teach me, but I do
not think also that I ought to call them universally in
question.
And in the first place, because I know that all
things which I conceive clearly and distinctly may be
produced by God such as I conceive them, it is suf-
ficient that I can conceive clearly and distinctly one
thing without another, to make it certain that the one
is distinct or different from the other, because they
might be separated at least by the almighty power of
God ; and it makes no difference by what power this
separation is effected, to make the judgment neces-
sary that they are different ; and because, from the
fact itself that I know with certainty that I'exist, and,
nevertheless, I do not observe that there necessarily
belongs to my nature or to my essence anything else,
but that I am a thing which thinks, I very properly con-
clude that my essence consists in this alone that I am a
thing which thinks, or a substance the whole essence or
nature of which is only to think. And although, per-
haps, or rather, certainly, as I shall show directly, I
may have a body to which I am very closely united ;
nevertheless, because I have, on the one side, a clear
and distinct idea of myself, in so far as I am solely a
thing which thinks, and is not extended, and on the
other I have a distinct idea of body, in so far as it
is solely a thing extended, and which does not think,
it is certain that I, that is to say, my soul, by which I
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 177
am what I am, is entirely and truly distinct from my
body, and that it may be, or exist, without it.*
Moreover, I find within me divers faculties of
thought, each of which has its peculiar mode ; for ex-
ample, I find within me the faculties of imagination
and perception, without which I can easily conceive
myself as a whole clearly and distinctly, but not
reciprocally these without myself, that is to say, without
an intelligent substance, to which they are attached
or to which they belong : because, in the notion which
we have of these faculties, or to make use of the
scholastic terms in their formal concept, they include
some sort of intellection ; whence I conclude that they
are distinct from me as modes are from things. I am
conscious, also, of certain other faculties, as those of
locomotion, of assuming various positions, and others
similar, which cannot be conceived, any more than the
preceding, without some substance to which they are
attached, nor consequently exist without it ; but it is
very evident that these faculties, if it be true that they
exist, must belong to some corporeal or extended sub-
stance, and not to an intelligent substance, since in the
clear and distinct concept of them there is indeed
found contained some sort of extension, but no intelli-
gence whatever.
Moreover, I cannot doubt that there is within me a
certain passive faculty of perception that is to say, of
receiving and of recognizing the ideas of sensible
things ; but it would be useless to me, and I could not
in any way avail myself of it, if there were not also in
me, or in some other thing, another active faculty,
*Cf. Print., i, 51-56 (CEuvres, t. 3, p. 94, Lat. p. 13). below p.
194, and Geom. proof, Prop. IV., (Euvrcs, t. 3, p. 464. Veitch,
p. 273.
1 78 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
capable of forming and producing these ideas. But
this active faculty cannot be in me in so far as I am only
a thing which thinks, seeing that it does not presup-
pose my thought, and that these ideas are often repre-
sented in me without my contributing to it in any
manner, and even often against my desire ; it must,
therefore, necessarily be in some substance different
from me, in which all the reality, which is objectively
in the ideas produced by this faculty, is contained form-
ally or eminently, as I have already observed ; and
this substance is either a body, that is to say, a cor-
poreal nature, in which is contained formally and in
reality all that is objectively and representatively in
the ideas ; or else it is God himself, or some other
created thing more noble than the body, in which the
body itself is contained eminently.
But, God being no deceiver, it is very manifest that
he did not impart these ideas to me immediately from
himself, nor even by the medium of some created ex-
istence in which their reality was not contained form-
ally, but solely, eminently. For as he has not given
me any faculty for knowing what this might be, but,
on the contrary, a very strong disposition to believe
that they come from corporeal things, I do not see how
he could be acquitted of deception if in reality these
ideas come from elsewhere, or were produced by any
other causes than corporeal things ; and, accordingly,
it must be concluded that corporeal things exist.*
Nevertheless they are, perhaps, not altogether such as
we perceive them by the senses, for there are many
things which make this perception of the senses very
obscure and confused ; but at least it must be ad-
* Cf. Ptinc., pt. II, I, (Etivres, t. 3, p. 120. Veitch's Descartes,
p. 232.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 179
milled lhal all Ihings lhal I conceive clearly and dis-
linclly lhal is lo say, all Ihings, speaking generally,
which are comprised in Ihe field of speculalive
geomelry aclually exisl.
Bui as for olher Ihings, which eilher are merely
parlicular [perceplions] for example, lhal Ihe sun is
of such a size and of such a figure, elc. ; or which are
less clearly and less distinctly conceived, as lighl,
sound, pain, and Ihe like, it is certain lhat allhough
they are very doubtful and uncertain, nevertheless,
from the fact alone that God is no deceiver, and, con-
sequently, that he did not permit that there should be
any falsity in my opinions which he has not also given
me some faculty capable of correcting, I believe I may
assuredly conclude that I have within me the means
of knowing them with certainly.*
And in Ihe firsl place, there is no doubt thai all
that nature teaches me contains some truth, for by
nature, considered in general, I now understand noth-
ing else than God himself,f or, rather, the order and
disposition which God has established in the creation ;
and by my nature in particular I understand nothing
else than the constitution or assemblage of all the
things which God has given me. But there is nothing
which this nature leaches me more distinctly or more
sensibly than lhal I have a body which is out of order
when I feel pain, which has need of food or drink
when I have the sensations of hunger, or thirst, etc.
And Iherefore I cannot doubt thai Ihere is in Ihissome
irulh.
* Cf. Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, Transcendental Dialectic,
Book ii, ch. ii, 4, Professor Watson's Selections, p. 166.
f Deus sive natura Spinoza. Notice, however, this corrected
statement.
l8o THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
Nature teaches me also by these sensations of pain,
hunger, thirst, that I am not merely lodged in my
body as a pilot in his ship, but, besides, that I am very
closely conjoined with it, and so mixed and mingled
with it that I compose, as it were, one whole with it.
For if it were not so, whenever my body is hurt, I
should not on that account feel any pain I who am
only a thing which thinks but I should perceive this
injury by the understanding alone, as a pilot perceives
by sight if anything is giving way in his vessel. And
when my body needs drink or food, I should be sim-
ply aware of this, without being apprised of it by the
confused sensations of hunger and thirst ; for in
reality all these sensations of hunger, thirst, pain, etc.,
are nothing but certain confused forms of thought
which spring from and are dependent upon the union
and, as it were, the blending of the mind with the body.
Besides this, nature teaches me that many other bodies
exist around my own, some of which I have to seek
after and others to avoid. And surely, from the fact
that I perceive divers sorts of colors, odors, tastes,
sounds, warmth, hardness, etc., I readily conclude
that there are in the bodies whence these divers per-
ceptions of sense proceed certain changes which cor-
respond to them, although perhaps these changes do
not in reality resemble them ; and from the fact that,
among these divers perceptions of the senses, some
of them are agreeable and others disagreeable, there
is no doubt that my body, or, rather, my entire self,
in so far as I am composed of body and soul, might
receive divers benefits or injuries from other bodies
which surround me.
But there are many other things which apparently
nature has taught me, which nevertheless I did not
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 181
really learn from her, but which have introduced
themselves into my mind through a certain habit I
have of judging of things inconsiderately ; and so it
can easily happen that they contain some falsity ; as,
for example, the opinion I have that every space, in
which there is nothing which moves and makes im-
pression upon my senses, is empty ; that in a body
which is warm there is anything resembling the idea
of warmth which is in me; that in a white or black
body there is the same whiteness or blackness which
I perceive ; that in a bitter or sweet body there is the
same taste, or the same flavor, and so of the rest ;
that stars, towers, and other distant bodies are of the
same figure and size as they appear from afar to be
to our eyes, etc.
But in order that there may be nothing in this
that I do not distinctly conceive, I ought precisely
to define what I mean when I say that nature
teaches me anything. For I use the term nature
here in a more restricted sense than when I called it
an assemblage or constitution of all the things which
God has given me ; seeing that this assemblage
or constitution comprises many things which per-
tain to the mind alone, of which I do not here intend
to speak while speaking of nature ; as, for example,
the notion which I have of this truth, that what
has once been done can no longer be as not hav-
ing been done, and a multitude of others like it,
which I know by the natural light without the aid of
the body ; and that it comprises, also, many others
which belong to body alone, and are not here con-
tained under the term nature as the quality it has
of being heavy, and many others similar ; of which,
also, I do not speak, but solely of the things which
182 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
God has given me as being composed of mind and
body.
But this nature teaches me, indeed, to avoid the
things which cause in me the sensation of pain and
carries me toward those which make me have some
pleasurable sensation ; but I do not see that beyond
this it teaches me that, from these divers perceptions
of the senses, we ought ever to conclude anything in
respect to the things which are external to us, unless
the mind has carefully and maturely considered them ;
for, it seems to me, it pertains to the mind alone, and
not to the mind as blended with the body, to know
the truth of these things.
Thus, although a star makes no greater impression
upon my eye than the flame of a candle, there is,
nevertheless, in me no faculty, real or natural, which
leads me to believe that it is not greater than this
flame, but I have judged it to be so from my earliest
years without rational grounds. And although in ap-
proaching fire I feel the heat, and also by drawing a
little nearer to it I feel pain, there is, nevertheless, no
reason which could persuade me that there is anything
in the fire resembling this heat, any more than this
pain ; but, merely, I have reason to believe that there
is something in it, whatever it may be, which excites
in me these sensations of heat or pain. Likewise,
although there may be spaces in which I do not find
anything which excites and stirs my senses, I ought
not, on that account, to conclude that these spaces
contain no bodies within them ; but I see that in this,
as in many other things similar, I have been in the
habit of perverting and confounding the order of
nature, because these sensations, or perceptions of the
senses, having been put in me merely to indicate to
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 183
my mind what things are beneficial or harmful to the
composite whole of which it is a part, and being for
that purpose sufficiently clear and distinct, I have
nevertheless made use of them as if they were very
certain rules, whereby I might immediately know the
essence and the nature of bodies outside of me, con-
cerning which, notwithstanding, they can teach me
nothing except very obscurely and confusedly
Beginning then this inquiry, I observe in the first
place that there is a great difference between the mind
and the body, in that the body, from its nature, is
always divisible, while the mind is entirely indivisible.
For in truth, when I consider it, that is to say, when I
consider myself, in so far as I am simply a thing which
thinks, I cannot distinguish within me any parts, but
I know and conceive very clearly that I am a thing
absolutely one and entire. And although the entire
mind seems to be united to the entire body, neverthe-
less, whenever a foot, or an arm, or any other part has
been separated from it, I know very well that nothing
for that reason has been cut off from my mind. And
the faculties of willing, of feeling, of conceiving, etc.,
can not properly be called its parts ; for it is the same
mind which is active as one whole in willing, and as
one whole in feeling and in conceiving, etc.
But quite the contrary is the case with things cor-
poreal or extended, for I cannot imagine any one of
them, however small it may be, that I could not easily
take to pieces in my thought, or that my mind could
not readily divide into many parts, and, consequently,
that I should not know to be divisible. This is suffi-
cient to teach me that the mind or soul of man is en-
tirely different from the body, if I had not already
learned this truth well enough from other sources.
184 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
I observe, also, that the mind does not receive im-
mediately impressions from all parts of the body, but
solely from the brain, or perhaps even from one of its
smallest parts, to wit, from that where it exercises this
faculty which it calls the common sense, which, when-
ever it is disposed in the same way, causes the mind to
perceive the same thing, although, nevertheless, the
other parts of the body may be differently disposed,
as testify a multitude of experiences which there is
no need here to recount.
I observe, further, that the nature of the body is
such that no one of its parts can be moved by another
part a little remote from it, except as it might be
moved, in the same way, by each of the parts which
are between the two, although the most distant part
did not act. As for example, in the cord A B C D,
which is completely tense, if one should draw and
move the last part, D, the first, A, will not be moved
any otherwise than it would be if one of the middle
parts, B or C, were drawn, while the last, D, remained
unmoved.
In the same way, when I feel pain in the foot
physics teaches me that this sensation communicates
itself by means of the nerves spread through the foot,
which, being stretched like cords from that point up
to the brain, whenever they are excited in the foot,
excite also at the same time that part of the brain from
whence they come and at which they terminate, and
cause there a certain motion which nature has insti-
tuted for the purpose* of making the pain to be felt
by the mind, as if this pain were in the foot ; but be-
cause these nerves must pass through the shank, the
* Note the admission of final cause, which Descartes excludes
from his philosophy. See above, p. 149 n.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 185
thigh, the loins, the back, and the neck, in order to
reach from the foot to the brain, it may happen that
although their extremities in the foot may not be
moved, but merely some of their parts which pass
through the loins or the neck, that nevertheless excites
the same motions in the brain which would be excited
there by a wound received in the foot ; in consequence
of which the mind will necessarily feel a pain in the
foot just as it would had there been an injury there ;
and we must judge the same to be true of all the
other perceptions of our senses.
Finally I observe thatsince each one of the motions
which are made in that part of the brain where the
mind immediately receives the impression can make
it sensible of but a single sensation, nothing better can
be desired or imagined than that this motion should
cause the mind to feel, among all the sensations which
it is capable of causing, that one which is the most
suitable and the most commonly useful to the preser-
vation of the human body when it is in full health.
But experience teaches us that all the sensations
which nature has bestowed upon us are such as I have
just described, and accordingly there is nothing to be
found in them which would not make manifest the
power and the goodness of God. Thus, for example,
when the nerves which are in the foot are violently
and extraordinarily disturbed, their motion, passing
through the spinal marrow to the brain, makes there
an impression on the mind which causes it to feel
something ; to wit, a pain as being in the foot, whereby
the mind is warned and aroused to do its utmost to
drive away the cause of it, as being very dangerous
and injurious to the foot. It is true that God might
have so constituted the nature of man that this same
l86 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
motion in the brain might have caused something
quite different to be felt by the mind ; for example,
that it should have caused it to feel itself, either in so
far as it is in the brain, or as it is in the foot, or, in-
deed, as it is in any place between the foot and the
brain, or, finally, something else, whatever it might be,
but nothing of all that could so well have contributed
to the preservation of the body as that which it does
cause it to feel.
Likewise, when we need to drink, there arises there-
from a certain dryness in the throat which sets its
nerves in motion, and by means of them the interior
parts of the brain ; and this motion causes the sensa-
tion of thirst to be felt in the mind, because, under
those circumstances, there is nothing which can be
more useful for us to know than that for the preser-
vation of our health we need to drink ; and so of the
rest.
Whence it is quite plain that, notwithstanding the
sovereign goodness of God, the nature of man, in so
far as it is composed of mind and body, cannot but be
sometimes misleading and deceptive. For if there is
any cause which excites not in the foot, but in some
part of the nerve which extends from the foot to the
brain, or even within the brain, the same motion which
it ordinarily causes when something is the matter with
the foot, pain will be felt as if it were in the foot, and
the sense will naturally be deceived ; because the same
motion in the brain being able to cause only the same
sensation in the mind, and this sensation being
oftener excited by a cause which injures the foot than
by another which may be felt elsewhere, it is much
more reasonable that it carry to the mind pain of the
foot than that of any other part.
METAPHYSICS] MEDITATIONS. 187
And if it happen that sometimes dryness of the
throat does not proceed, as ordinarily, from the fact
that drink is needed for the health of the body, but
from some cause quite opposite, as happens to those
who are dropsical, nevertheless it is much better that
it deceive in this condition, than it would be if it
should deceive always when the body is in health; and
so of the rest. And certainly this consideration is of
great service to me, not only for recognizing all the
errors to which my nature is subject, but, also, for the
more easy avoidance or correction of them, because,
knowing that all my senses indicate more commonly
what is true than what is false in respect to the things
which are favorable or unfavorable to the body, and
being almost always able to make use of several of
them to examine the same thing, and besides that, be-
ing able to use my memory to connect present knowl-
edge with past, and my understanding, which has al-
ready discovered all the causes of my errors, I ought
not henceforward to fear to meet with falsity in the
things which are most commonly presented by my
senses.
And all the doubts of these past days I ought to
reject as absurd and ridiculous, and particularly that
uncertainty in general about sleep, and my not being
able to distinguish the state of being awake ; for now
I find a most notable difference, in that our memory
can never bind and join together our dreams one with
another, and with the whole course of our life, as it is
accustomed to join together the things which happen
to us while we are awake. And, in truth, if anyone,
when I am awake, should appear all of a sudden and
disappear in the same way as do the phantoms which
I see when I am asleep, so that I could not tell whence
l88 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
he came or whither he went, it would not be without
reason if I thought him a specter or a phantom fash-
ioned within my brain, and like those which are formed
there when I am asleep, rather than a real man.
But when I perceive things of which I know dis-
tinctly both the place whence they come and where
they are, and the time at which they appear to me,
and am able, without any break, to connect the per-
ception which I have of them with the remaining
course of my life, I am perfectly certain that I per-
ceive them being awake, and not in my sleep, and I
ought not in any manner to doubt the truth of these
things if, after I have summoned all my senses, my
memory, and my understanding, to the examination
of them, there is nothing reported to me by any of
them which disagrees with what is reported to me by
the rest. Because, from the fact that God is no de-
ceiver, it follows necessarily that I am not deceived in
this. But because exigency of circumstances often
obliges us to decide before we have had the leisure to
examine so carefully, it must be admitted that human
life is liable to very frequent mistakes in particular
instances ; and, in fine, the infirmity and weakness of
our nature must be confessed.
SELECTIONS
FROM THE PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSO-
PHY, TRANSLATED FROM THE
LATIN : OPERA PHILOSOPHICA,
EDITIO ULTIMA, AMSTELO-
DAMI, APUD DANIE-
LEM ELZEVIRIUM,
MDCLXXVII.
PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY.
PART FIRST.*
.... THERE are very many persons who never in
their whole life perceive anything so correctly as to
warrant a certain judgment upon it. For, in order that
a certain and incontestable judgment may be based
upon the perception of anything, it is requisite that
the perception be not only clear but distinct. I call
a perception clear which is present and manifest
to an attentive mind ; just as we say that those
things are clearly seen by us, which, being present
to the gazing eye, affect it with sufficient strength
and plainness. But I call a perception distinct which,
while it is clear, is also so separated and distinguished
from all others that it plainly contains nothing but
what is clear.
Thus, when anyone feels any great pain, this per-
ception of pain is, indeed, most clear to him, but it is
not always distinct, for men usually confound it with
an obscure judgment of their own concerning the
nature of something in the part affected which they
think to be similar to the feeling of the pain which
alone they clearly perceive. And thus a perception
may be clear which is not distinct, but no perception
can be distinct which is not clear.
But, indeed, in our earliest years the mind was so
* 45-7- Translated from the Latin : Opera Philosoph-
ica, editio ultima, Amstelodami, Apud Danielem Elzevirium,
MDCLXXVII.
IQ2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
immersed in the body that although it perceived many
things clearly it did not perceive anything distinctly ;
and as, nevertheless, it formed its judgments con-
cerning many things, we imbibed many prejudices
which, in the case of many persons, never afterward
have been laid aside. In order that we may be able
to free ourselves from these, I will make a complete
enumeration of all the simple notions of which our
thoughts are composed, and will distinguish what in
each is clear and what is obscure, or in what we may
err.
Whatever falls under our perceptions we consider
as being either things or certain affections of things,
or as being eternal truths having no existence beyond
our thought. Among those which we consider as
things, the most general notions of them are substance,
duration, order, number, and any others of this sort
which relate to all classes of things. But I recognize
only two highest classes \sumtna genera] of things ;
one is of things intellectual, or having the power of
thought, that is, pertaining to mind or the thinking
substance ; the other of material things, or which
pertain to extended substance, that is, to body. Per-
ception, volition, and all modes both of perceiving
and of willing, are referred to thinking substance ;
but to extended substances [are referred] magnitude
or extension in length, breadth, and depth figure,
motion, position, divisibility of parts, and such like.
But there are certain other modes also, which we ex-
perience in ourselves, which are to be referred neither
to the mind alone, nor yet to the body alone, but arise
from the close and intimate union of our mind with the
body, namely the appetites of hunger, thirst, etc.,
likewise emotions, or passions of the mind, which
METAPHYSICS] PRINCIPLES. 193
consist not in thought alone, as the emotions of
anger, joy, sadness, love, etc., and finally, all sensa-
tions, as of pain, pleasure, of light and colors, sounds,
odors, tastes, heat, hardness, and other tangible
qualities.
And all these we consider as things or qualities or
modes of things. But when we recognize anything as
being impossible, as that something should arise from
nothing, then this proposition, Ex nihilo nihil fit, is
considered not as an existing thing, nor yet as a mode
of a thing, but as a certain eternal truth which has its
seat in our mind, and is called a common notion, or
axiom.* Of this sort are : It is impossible that the
same thing should at once be and not be ; Whatever
has been done cannot be not done ; He who thinks
cannot be non-existent while he thinks ; and innumer-
able others which, indeed, cannot all be easily enumer-
ated, but neither can they be ignored, whenever the
occasion arises that we think of them, and are blinded
by no prejudices.
And, indeed, as respects these common notions, there
is no doubt but that they can be clearly and distinctly
perceived, for otherwise they could not be called com-
mon notions ; although it is true that certain of them
do not merit that title in regard to all men, because
they are not equally perceived by all. Not, however,
as I think, because the knowing faculty of one man
has wider range than that of another ; but because
these common notions happen to be opposed to the
pre-formed opinions of some men who, for that reason,
cannot easily grasp them ; while others, who are
* For a list of such axioms (10 in all) see Geom. proof, Axioms
or Common Notions, in Reply to 2d Obj., (Euvres, t. i, pp. 458-
460 ; Veitch's Descartes, p. 270.
19$ THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
free from these prejudices, perceive them most
plainly.*
In respect to what we regard either as things or as
modes of things, it is worth while to consider each in
succession. By substance we^an understand nothing
else than a thing which so exists that it needs no
other t h i ng in^o r d e r to exist. And, indeed, the suB-
stance which evidently needs no other thing can be
thought of as being one^only, namely, God.f But all
others we perceive can exist only by the help of the
concourse of God.J And therefore the name, sub-
stance, cannot belong to God and to them univocally,
as they say in the schools, that is, no signification of
this name can be distinctly understood as common
to God and to creatures.
But corporeal substance and mind, or thinking
substance, as created, can be comprehended under
this common conception, because they are things
which require only the concourse of God for their
existence. Nevertheless, substance cannot be first
known by this alone that a thing exists ; because
this by itself alone does not affect us ; but we easily
recognize it by any one of its attributes, through
that common notion that nothing can have no attri-
butes or properties or qualities. For from this, that
we perceive some attribute to be present, we conclude
some existing thing, or substance, to which that can
be attributed, to be necessarily present also.
And indeed, from any attribute whatever, a sub-
stance can be recognized ; but, nevertheless, there is of
* Cf. Hobbes' objection and Descartes' reply (Med. iv, 302), Obj.
et Rep., (Euvres, i, p. 496. See above, p. 154 n.
f Ueus est substantia una et unica Spinoza.
| Occasionalism Geulincx.
METAPHYSICS] PRINCIPLES. 195
any substance one principal property, which consti-
tutes its nature and essence, and to which all the rest
are related ; namely, extension in length, breadth, and
depth constitutes the nature of corporeal substance ;
and thought constitutes^ tHe nature of thinking sub^
"stance. For everything else which can be attributed
to body presupposes extension, and is only a certain
mode of an extended thing ; as, also, all that we can
discover in mind are only divers modes of thinking.
Thus, for example, figure cannot be understood except
in an extended thing, nor motion except in a space
extended ; nor imagination, nor sense, nor will, except
in a thinking thing. But, on the other hand, exten-
sion can be understood without figure or motion, and
thought without imagination, or sense, and so of the
rest ; as is plain to anyone who reflects upon it.
And thus we can easily have two clear and distinct
notions or ideas, one of created thinking substance,
the other of corporeal substance ; if, namely, we dis-
tinguish accurately all attributes of thought from
attributes of extension. So, also, we can have a clear
and distinct idea of a thinking substance uncreated
and independent, that is, of God ; only we must not
suppose that it adequately represents all that is in
God, nor must we introduce anything fictitious, but
simply attend to what in truth is contained in it, and
what we plainly perceive to belong to the nature of a
being supremely perfect. And surely no one can
deny that such an idea of God exists within us, unless
he thinks that there is no knowledge of God whatever
in human minds.
Duration, order, and number are also most dis-
tinctly known by us, provided we assign to them no
conception of substance, but think the duration of
ig6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
anything to be merely a mode under which we con-
ceive this thing, in so far as it continues to exist.
And in a similar way we are to conceive of order and
number as not being anything distinct from things
ordered and numbered, but as being merely modes
under which we consider them.
And, indeed, here we are to understand by modes
what elsewhere we mean by attributes or qualities.
But when we consider substance to be affected or
changed by them, we call them modes ; and again,
when we consider them more generally, as simply
existing in substance, we call them attributes. There-
fore we say that, properly speaking, there are in God
no modes or qualities, but attributes only, because
no variation is known in him.* And also, in cre-
ated things, those characters which are not subject
to change, such as existence and duration, in a thing
existing and enduring, should not be called qualities
or modes, but attributes.
But some of these are in things themselves, of which
they are said to be attributes or modes ; others in our
thought only. Thus, when we distinguish time from
duration taken generally, and say that it is the num-
ber of motion, it is merely a mode of our thought ;
nor do we know, Indeed, any other duration in mo-
tion than in things not moved ; as is evident from
this, that, if two bodies are moved, one slowly, the
other swiftly, for an hour, we count no more time in
one than in the other, although there is much more
motion. But in order to measure the duration of all
things, we compare it with the duration of those
greatest and in the highest degree equable motions
by which the years and days arise ; and this duration
* Cf. Spinoza's views of attribute and mode. See above, p. 29
METAPHYSICS] PRINCIPLES. 197
we call time, which, accordingly, is nothing super-
added to duration taken generally, but a mode of
thought.*
So also number, when considered not in any created
things, but only in the abstract or in kind, is a mode
of thought only ; so are all other notions which we
call universals.
These universals arise from this, merely, that we
use one and the same idea in thinking of all the indi-
viduals which are similar among themselves ; as also
we impose one and the same name upon all the things
represented by this idea, which name is a universal.
Thus, when we see two stones, and do not attend to
their nature, but to this only that they are two, we
form an idea of that number which we call the binary ;
and when afterward we see two birds or two trees,
and do not consider their nature, but only that they
are two, we repeat the same idea as before, which,
accordingly, is a universal, and we call this number by
the same universal name, binary. In the same man-
ner, when we consider a figure bounded by three
lines, we form a certain idea of it, which we call tri-
angle ; and we use this afterward as a universal to
represent to our mind all other figures bounded by
three lines. And when we observe among triangles
that some have one right angle and others have not,
we form a universal idea of right-angled triangles,
which, being related to the preceding as more general,
is called a species; and this character of being right-
angled is the universal difference by which all right-
angled triangles are distinguished from others ; and
that in these the square of the base is equal to the
square of the sides is a property belonging to all of
* See above, p. 34.
198 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
them, and to them only ; and finally, if we suppose
some triangles of this sort to be in motion, and others
not to be moved, this will be in them a universal acci-
dent. And in this way there are commonly reckoned
five universals, genus, species, difference, property,
and accident.
But number arises in things themselves from distinc-
tion in regard to them, which distinction is threefold :
real, modal, and logical. The real properly exists only
between two or more substances, and these we perceive
to be really mutually distinct in themselves by this
alone, that we are able to know one from the other
clearly and distinctly. For, knowing God, we are cer-
tain that he can bring to pass whatever we distinctly
know, so that, for example, from this alone, that we
have the idea of extended or corporeal substance, al-
though we do not yet certainly know that any such
substance really exists, nevertheless we are certain
that it can exist, and, if it exist, every part of it dis-
tinguished by us in thought is in reality distinct from
the other parts of the same substance. Likewise,
from this alone, that each one of us knows himself
to be a thinking thing, and is able in thought to
exclude from himself every other substance, both
thinking and extended, it is certain that everyone,
so regarded, is really distinct from every other think-
ing substance, and from every corporeal substance.
And even if we suppose that God has joined in the
closest manner possible to such a thinking substance
a certain corporeal substance, and so from these two
has produced one, they nevertheless remain really
distinct ; because, however closely he may have united
them, he cannot dispossess himself of the power which
he had before of separating them, or of preserving
METAPHYSICS] PRINCIPLES. 199
one without the other ; and whatever substances either
can be separated by God, or preserved independently,
are really distinct.
Modal distinction is twofold ; the one between mode
properly so called, and the substance of which it is
the mode ; the other between two modes of the same
substance. The former is known by this, that we can
clearly perceive a substance indeed without a mode,
which we say is distinct from it, but we cannot, vice
versa, comprehend that mode without the substance.
So figure and motion are distinguished modalty from
corporeal substance, to which they belong ; so also
an affirmation and a recollection, from the mind. But
the latter is known from this, that we can indeed
apprehend one motion apart from another, and vice
versa, but neither apart from the substance to which
they belong ; as, if a stone be moved, and be square,
I can, indeed, apprehend its square figure without its
motion ; and, vice versa, its motion without its square
figure ; but neither that motion nor that square fig-
ure can I apprehend without the substance of the
stone. But the distinction whereby the mode of one
substance differs from another substance, or from a
mode of another substance, as the motion of one body
from another body, or from the mind, and motion from
doubt, would seem to be properly called real rather
than modal, because those modes are not clearly
known apart from substances really distinct, of which
they are modes.
Finally, distinction of reason exists between sub-
stance and any attribute of it without which the sub-
stance itself cannot be known ; on between two such
attributes of the same substance. And it is recog-
nized by this, that we cannot form a clear and
20O THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
distinct idea of the substance itself if we exclude
from it that attribute ; or that we cannot clearly appre-
hend the idea of one of its attributes if we separate
that one from another. Inasmuch as any substance
whatever, if it cease to endure, ceases also to
exist, it is distinguished from its own duration by
intellect only. And all modes of thinking, which we
regard as if they were in objects, differ only for the
intellect, now from the objects concerning which they
are thought, and now from one another in one and the
same object. I remember, indeed, that I have else-
where conjoined this sort of distinction with the
modal ; namely, at the end of the Reply to the First
Objections in the Meditations on the First Philos-
ophy ; but in that case there was no occasion for ac-
curate distinction of them, and it was sufficient to my
purpose to distinguish both from the real.
Thought and extension may be regarded as consti-
tuting the nature of substance, intelligent and cor-
poreal ; and accordingly they should not be otherwise
conceived than as the thinking substance itself and
the corporeal substance, that is, as mind and body ;
thus we know them most clearly and most distinctly.
Moreover, we know extended substance or thinking
substance more easily than substance alone, abstract-
ing the quality that it thinks or is extended. For
there is some difficulty in abstracting the notion of
substance from the notions of thought and ex-
tension, which, indeed, are diverse from it only by
this very reason ; * and a conception does not become
more distinct, because we comprehend in it fewer
things, but only because the things which we do com-
* Namely, that we thus mentally abstract them from substance ;
in reality they are inseparable from substance.
METAPHYSICS] PRINCIPLES. 201
prehend in it we distinguish accurately from all the
rest.
Thought and extension may be taken as modes of
substance in so far, indeed, as one and the same
mind may have many different thoughts ; and one
and the same body, while retaining the same magni-
tude, may be extended in many different modes ; now
more in length, and less in breadth or depth, and
again, on the contrary, more in breadth and less in
length. And then they are distinguished modally
from substance, and may be known not less clearly
and distinctly than [substance] itself ; only they are
not to be regarded as substances, or things separate
from others, but solely as modes of things. For it
is by considering them as being in the substances
of which they are the modes, that we distinguish
them from those substances and know them as they
really are. But, on the contrary, if we choose to con-
sider them as existing apart from the substances in
which they inhere, by this very fact we regard them
as things subsistent [by themselves] and thus con-
found the ideas of mode and substance.
In the same way we shall best understand the differ-
ent modes of thought, such as intellection, imagination,
memory, will, etc., and also the different modes of ex-
tension, or, as belonging to extension, all figures, and
positions of parts, and motions of these, if only we
regard them as modes of the things in which they
inhere ; and, as respects motion, [we shall best un-
stand it] if we consider none but local motion and
force, if we do not inquire what excites it (which,
however, I shall attempt to explain in its proper place).
There remain the senses, the affections, the appe-
tites, which also can be clearly understood if we care-
202 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART II
fully avoid passing any judgment upon them except
in regard to precisely that which is contained in our
perception and of which we are inwardly conscious.
But this precaution it is very difficult to exercise, at
least in regard to the senses, because there is no one
of us who has not from infancy judged that all those
things which he perceives are things existing outside
his mind. and quite similar to his sensations, that is to
say, to the perceptions which he has of them ; so that
when, for example, we see a color, we think we see
something situated outside of us and quite similar to
that idea of color of which we then have experience
within ourselves ; and, on account of our habit of so
judging, we seem to see this so clearly and distinctly
that we hold it certainly and undoubtedly true.
The same thing is evident in respect to all other
sensations, even of pleasure and pain. For although
these .are not thought to be outside of us : neither yet
are they wont to be regarded as in the mind alone, or
in our perception, but as in the hand, or in the foot,
or in some other part of our body. Nor, indeed, is it
more certain when, for example, we perceive a pain
as if in the foot, that this is something existing out-
side our mind in the foot, than, when we see light as if
in the sun, that this light exists outside of us in the
sun ; but both these are prejudices of our early years,
as shall clearly be made apparent below.
But in order that we may distinguish at this point
what is clear from what is obscure, it is most carefully
to be noted that pain, indeed, and color, and other
[qualities] of this kind are clearly and distinctly un-
derstood, provided only they are regarded as affec-
tions of sense or as thoughts ; but when they are
judged to be things existing outside our minds, we
METAPHYSICS] PRINCIPLES. 203
are able in no way to understand what sort of things
they are, and it is just the same when anyone says
that he sees in any body a color, or feels in any mem-
ber a pain, as if he should say that he sees or feels
there something of which he is quite ignorant, that is,
that he does not know what he sees or feels. For
although, if he attend but little, he may easily per-
suade himself that he has some notion of it, from the
fact that he supposes it to be something similar to
that sensation of color or of pain which he experi-
ences within himself, yet if he examine into the nature
of that which this sensation of color or of pain rep-
resents to him as being in a colored body, or as exist-
ing in the part affected, he will find that he knows
nothing at all about it.
[This will be apparent] if he considers that he knows
in a manner entirely different the natare of magnitude
in a visible body, or of figure, or motion (at least of
motion from place to place ; for philosophers who
feign that there are other forms of motion different
from this have shown that they little understood the
nature of this), or position, or duration, or number,
and the like, which it has just been said are clearly
perceived in bodies ; [that he knows these in a man-
ner entirely different from that] in which he knows
what in the same body color is, or pain, or smell, or
taste, or any of those [qualities] which are said to be
referred to the senses. For although in seeing any
body we are not more certain that it exists in so far
as it appears as having figure than as it appears
colored ; yet we know far more clearly what it is as
having figure than what it is as colored.
Manifestly, therefore, when we say that we per-
ceive colors in objects, it is in reality the same as say-
204 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
ing that we perceive something in objects, the nature
of which we do not know, but something by which
there is produced in us a certain very clear and vivid
sensation which is called a sensation of color. But in
the mode of our judging there is a very great difference,
for so long that we judge only that there is something
in objects (that is, in things, whatever they may be,
from which the sensation comes to us) of which some-
thing we are indeed ignorant, we are so far from fall-
ing into error that on the other hand we avoid it, in
that by admonishing ourselves that we are ignorant
of this something we are the less prone to judge
rashly concerning it.
But when we think we perceive colors in objects,
although, indeed, we are ignorant what that may be,
which we then call by the name of color, nor are able
to recognize any similarity between the color which
we suppose to be in objects and that which we experi-
ence in the sense, nevertheless, because we do not
pay attention to this fact, and there are many other
things, such as magnitude, figure, number, etc., which
we clearly perceive to be felt or understood by us not
otherwise than as they are, or, at least, may be, in
objects, we easily lapse into this error, that we judge
that that which in objects we call color is altogether
like the color which we have in sensation, and so that
what we in no manner perceive we think we clearly
perceive
THE WORLD;
OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT.
THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT.*
CHAPTER I.
Of the difference between our sensations and the things
which produce them.
PROPOSING, as I do, to treat of the nature of light,
the first thing of which I wish you to take note is, that
there may be a difference between the sensation
which we have in ourselves, that is to say, the idea
which is formed within our imagination by the help
of our eyes, and that which exists in the objects that
produce within us the sensation, namely, that which
exists in the flame, or in the sun, and is called by the
name of light ; because, although everyone is com-
monly persuaded that the ideas that we have in our
thought are altogether similar to the objects whence
they proceed, I see no reason, nevertheless, to assure
us that this is true ; but, on the contrary, I observe
many facts which should incline us to question it.
You know that words, while having no resemblance
to the things which they signify, do not fail to make
them intelligible to us, and often, even without our
paying attention to the sound of the words, or to
their syllables ; so that it may happen that after having
listened to a discourse, the meaning of which we have
* This is a fragment of the Treatise referred to in the Discourse
on Method as having been suppressed by the author. See (Euvres,
t. i, p. 168, Veitch's Descartes, p. 42 ; and above, pp. 10-12.
207
208 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
completely understood, we are not able to say in what
language it was spoken. But if words, which signify
nothing except by human institution, are capable of
making conceivable for us things to which they have
no resemblance, why may not nature also have estab-
lished a certain sign which should make us feel the
sensation of light, although this sign should have
nothing in itself resembling sensation ? Has she
not thus appointed laughter and tears to make us
read joy and sadness in the human countenance?
But you will say, perhaps, that our ears make us
perceive in reality merely the sound of the words, and
our eyes only the face of him who laughs or who
weeps, and that it is our mind, which, having retained
what these words and this countenance signify, rep-
resents it to us at the same time. To that I may reply
that, just in the same way, it is our mind which rep-
resents to us the idea of light whenever the action
which signifies it touches our eye ; but, without
wasting time in dispute, I will at once bring forward
another illustration.
Do you think that when we pay no attention to the
meaning of words, and only hear the sound of them,
that the idea of this sound, which is formed within
our thought, is anything like the object which is the
cause of it ? A man opens his mouth, moves his
tongue, expels his breath; I see nothing in all these
motions which is not quite different from the idea of
the sound which they cause us to imagine. And most
philosophers assure us that the sound is nothing but
a certain trembling of the air which has just struck
our ears; so that, if the sense of hearing brought to
our thought the true image of its object, it would be
necessary, in place of making us conceive the sound,
PHYSICS] THE WORLD J OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 209
that it should make us conceive the motion of the por-
tions of the air which is trembling at the time against
our ears. But because, perhaps, everybody will not
believe what the philosophers say, I will adduce still
another example. Touch is the one of all the senses
which we consider the least deceptive and the most
trustworthy ; so that, if I prove to you that even touch
makes us conceive many ideas which do not at all re-
semble the objects which produce them, I do not
think you ought to consider it strange if I say that
sight may do the same.
But there is no one who does not know that the ideas
of pleasure and of pain which are formed within our
thought on occasion of bodies touching us externally
have no resemblance to them. A person gently passes
a feather over the lips of a child asleep, and he per-
ceives the tickling; do you suppose that the idea of
the tickling which he conceives has any resemblance
to anything there is in the feather ? A soldier re-
turns from a fight; during the heat of the combat he
might have been wounded without perceiving it, but
now that he begins to cool off he feels pain, he
thinks he has been wounded; a surgeon is called, his
uniform is stripped off, he is examined, and at last it
is found that what he felt was nothing but a buckle or
a strap, which, being twisted underneath his uniform,
pressed upon him and hurt him. If his sense of
touch, while making him feel the strap, had im-
pressed the image of it on his thought, he would not
have needed a surgeon to tell him what he felt.
But I see no reason which obliges us to think that
what is in the objects from which the sensation of
light comes to us is any more like that sensation than
the action of a feather and a buckle is like the tick-
210 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
ling and the pain ; and yet I have not adduced these
examples in order to make you believe absolutely that
this light is something different in the objects from
what it is in our eyes, but simply that you may question
it, and that, being on your guard against a prejudice
to the contrary, you may now the better inquire with
me into the true state of the case.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 211
CHAPTER II.
/// what the heat and light of a fire consist.
I KNOW only two kinds of bodies in the universe in
which light is found, namely, the stars, and flame or
fire ; and because the stars are without question
further removed from the knowledge of men than fire
or flame is, I will attempt to explain in the first place
what I observe in respect to flame. When it burns
wood or any similar material, we can see at a glance
that it removes small particles of this wood, and sep-
arates them one from another, transforming thus the
finer parts into fire, into vapor and smoke, and leaving
the grosser parts as ashes. Anyone else, if he pleases,
may imagine in this wood the form of fire, the quality
of heat, and the energy which burns it, as all different
things ; as for me, who am afraid of deceiving myself
if I suppose anything more to be there than what I
see must necessarily be present, for my part, I am
content with conceiving there the movement of its
parts : because, put the fire there, put the heat there,
and make it burn as much as you please, if you do
not suppose, along with that, that there are some of
its parts in motion, and that they detach themselves
from their neighbors, I cannot imagine that it receives
any alteration or change ; and, on the contrary, re-
move the fire, remove the heat, prevent it from burn-
ing, provided only that you grant me that there is
some power which sets in violent motion its minutest
parts, and which separates them from the grosser
212 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
parts, I find that that by itself could effect in it all
the changes which take place when it burns.
But, inasmuch as it does not seem to me possible to
conceive that one body can move another, unless it
is also in motion itself, I conclude from this that the
body of flame, which acts upon the wood, is composed
of small parts which are in motion separately one from
another, with a motion very rapid and very violent,
and which, thus moving themselves, push and move
with themselves the parts of the bodies which they
touch, and which do not offer them too great resist-
ance. I say that the parts move separately one from
another, because, although they often accord and con-
spire, many together, to produce a single effect, we
see nevertheless that each of them acts in its own par-
ticular way upon the bodies which they touch. I say,
also, that their motion is very rapid and very violent ;
because, being too small for sight to distinguish, they
would not have the force they do for acting on other
bodies, if the rapidity of their motion did not make
up for the want of its extent.
I add nothing in respect to the direction which each
part takes ; for if you consider that the power of mov-
ing itself, and that which determines the direction
which the movement shall take, are two entirely differ-
ent things, one of which might exist without the other
(as I have explained in the second discourse of the
Dioptrics*), you will readily decide that each moves
in the way that is made the least difficult to it by the
disposition of the bodies which surround it, and
that in the same flame there may be parts which
would move up and others down, in a straight line and
in a curve, and in all directions, without thereby
changing its nature at all ; so that, if you see almost
* (Euvre s, t. 5, p. 17, et seq.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 213
all of them tending upward, it need not be supposed
that this happens so for any other reason than that
the other bodies which touch them are almost in every
case disposed to offer them more resistance on every
other side.
But having taken note that the parts of the flame
move in this manner, and that it is sufficient to con-
ceive its motions in order to comprehend how it has
the power to consume wood and to burn, let us inquire,
pray, whether the same [conception] will not enable
us also to comprehend how it warms us and how it
illuminates us : for, if this should prove to be the case,
it will not be necessary that there should exist in it
any other quality, and we can say that it is this motion
alone which, according to the different effects which it
produces, is called now heat and now light.
But as concerns the nature of heat, the sensation
which we have of it may, as it seems to me, be re-
garded as a kind of pain when it is violent, and some-
times as a kind of pleasure when it is moderate ; and
as we have said before that there is nothing external
to our thought which is like the ideas that we conceive
of pleasure and pain, we can easily believe also that
there is nothing like that which we conceive of as
heat, but that whatever can put in motion in divers
ways the minute particles of our hands, or any other
portion of our body, may excite in us this sensation.
Many things which we experience also favor this view ;
for, in simply rubbing the hands, they become warm,
and every other body also may be made warm with-
out putting it before the fire, provided only it be
moved and shaken so that many of its minute particles
are set in motion, and along with them those of our
hands.
214 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
As for what light is, it can easily be conceived that
the same motion which exists in the flame may be suf-
ficient to enable us to perceive it ; but inasmuch as it
is in this that the principal part of my design con-
sists, I wish to attempt to explain it at length, and
to carry on my discourse further.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 215
CHAPTER III.
Of solids and fluids.
I CONSIDER that there is an infinity of different
motions which are perpetually going on in the uni-
verse, and after having observed the greater, which
make the days, the months, and the years, I take note
that the vapors of the earth do not cease to rise to-
ward the clouds and to descend from them, that the
air is always moved by the winds, that the sea is never
at rest, that the springs and the rivers flow without
ceasing, that the firmest buildings fall at last in de-
cay, that plants and animals do nothing but grow up
and perish ; in short, that there is nothing anywhere
which does not change. Whence I certainly know
that it is not in flame only that there is a multitude of
minute particles in incessant motion, but that they
exist also in all other bodies, although their actions
are not so violent, and, because of their minuteness,
they cannot be perceived by any of our senses.
1 am not going to stop to inquire into the cause of
their movements, because it is sufficient for my pur-
pose to suppose that they began to be in motion as
soon as the world began to exist, and, this being so, I
find by my reasonings that it is impossible that their
movements should ever cease, nor even change other-
wise than in the subject of them ; that is to say, that
the virtue or power of moving itself, which exists in
a body, may indeed pass, either wholly or in part,
into another, and thus nn longer exist in the first,
216 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
but that it cannot be no longer at all in the world.
My reasonings, I say, satisfy my own mind with re-
gard to this, but there is no need that I state them to
you at present ; and still, if you please, you may
imagine, as do the majority of the learned, that there
is some primum mobile which, revolving about the
world with inconceivable velocity, is the origin and
source of all other movements which occur in it.
Now, in accordance with this view, there is afforded
an explanation of the cause of all the changes which
happen in the universe, and of all the varied phe-
nomena which appear upon the earth ; but I shall
here content myself with speaking of those which re-
late to my subject.
The difference which exists between hard bodies
and those which are liquid is the first that I desire
you to observe ; and, to this end, suppose that every
body be divisible into parts extremely small. I do
not wish to decide whether the number of them is in-
finite or not ; but it is certain, at least in relation to
our knowledge, that the number is indefinitely great,
and that we may suppose that there are many millions
in the smallest grain of sand which can be perceived
by our eyes. And observe, that if two of these mi-
nute parts touch each other without being in action,
in order to remove them the one from the other, some
force, however slight, is necessary to separate them ;
for when once they are so situated they will never
think of arranging themselves otherwise. Observe,
also, that twice as much force is necessary to separate
two of them as to separate one, and a thousand times
as much to separate a thousand ; so that if many
millions are to be separated all at once as, perhaps,
might be necessary to be done in order to break a
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 217
single hair it is no wonder if there is needed a force
great enough to be appreciable by the senses.
On the other hand, if two or more of these minute
particles touch only in passing and while they are in
motion, the one in one direction, the other in another,
it is certain that there will be required less force to
separate them than if they were entirely motionless ;
and even none at all, if the motion with which they
tend of themselves to separate is equal to or greater
than that with which one seeks to separate them.
Now I find no other difference between solid and
liquid bodies save that the particles of the one can be
separated from the mass much more easily than those
of the other. So that, to constitute the hardest body
imaginable, I hold that it is enough that all its parts
touch, without there remaining any space between
them, and without any of them having a tendency to
move, for what glue or what cement could be imag-
ined besides that, which could make them better hold
together ?
I suppose, also, that it is enough to constitute the
most liquid body which could be found, that all its
most minute particles should be moving in the most
various directions from one another and with the
utmost possible velocity, although at the same time
they do not lose the power of touching one another on
every side and of occupying as little space as if they
were motionless. In fine, I believe that every body
approaches more or less these two extremes, in pro-
portion as its particles have more or less the tendency
to withdraw from one another ; and all the phenomena
upon which I cast my eyes confirm me in this opinion.
Flame, of which I have already said that all its
particles are in perpetual motion, is not only liquid,
2l8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
but it also liquefies most other bodies. And observe
that when it melts metals it acts with no other power
than when it burns wood ; but because the particles
of metals are a little more nearly equal, it cannot
separate one without another, and thus make of them
bodies entirely liquid, whereas the particles of wood
are so unequal that it can separate the smallest
particles and liquefy them ; that is to say make them
fly off in smoke, without thus moving the grosser ones.
Next to flame there is nothing more liquid than air ;
and one may see at a glance that its particles move
separately one from another ; for, if you will con-
descend to notice those minute particles which are
commonly called motes, and which appear in sun-
beams, you will see, even if there is no wind moving
them, that they are incessantly flying hither and
thither in a thousand different directions. The same
thing can be shown in all the grosser liquids, if they
are mixed of divers colors the one with the other, so
as better to distinguish their movements. And finally,
this appears very clearly in strong acids, when they
move and separate particles of any metal.
But you may ask me at this point why, if it is the
motion only of the flame which makes it burn and be
liquid, the motion of the particles of the air, which
renders it also extremely liquid, does not impart to it
just the same power to burn, but, on the contrary,
makes it almost imperceptible to our hands. To
which I reply that it is necessary not only to take
account of the swiftness of the motion, but also of the
size of the particles, and that those are the smallest
which constitute the most liquid bodies, but those are
the largest which have the greatest power to burn, and,
in general, to act on other bodies.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 219
Observe, in passing, that I mean here, and that I
shall always mean hereafter, by a single particle, all
that is joined together and which has no tendency to
separate itself, although those which have very little
magnitude might easily be divided into many others
still smaller ; thus, a grain of sand, a stone, a rock,
the whole earth even, will be taken hereafter as a
single particle, in so far as we shall consider therein
only a motion entirely simple and uniform.
Now, between the particles of the air, if there are
any of them very large in comparison to the rest, as
are these motes which are seen in it, they move also
more slowly, and if there are any which move more
swiftly, they are also smaller ; but between the parts
of a flame, if there are any which are smaller than those
in the air, there are also greater ones, or at least there
is a greater number of those which are equal to the
greatest in the air, which at the same time move
much more swiftly, and it is only these last which
have power to burn. That it has smaller ones may
be conjectured from the fact that they penetrate
through many bodies the pores of which are so small
that the air even cannot enter them ; that it has greater,
or at least the large ones in greater number, is evident
from this, that the air alone is not sufficient to support
it ; that they move more rapidly the violence of their
action sufficiently attests ; and finally, that it is the
largest of these particles which have the power to
burn, and not the others, appears in this, that the flame
which comes from brandy or other highly rarefied
substances scarcely burns at all, and on the other hand
that which proceeds from hard and heavy substances
is very hot.
220 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
CHAPTER IV.
Of vacuum; * and how it happens that our senses do
not perceive certain substances.
BUT we must inquire more particularly why the air,
being a substance as well as others, cannot as well be
perceived as they, and by this means deliver ourselves
from an error which has held possession of our minds
from infancy, since we have believed that there are
no other bodies about us than those which can be
perceived, and, accordingly, that although the air be
a substance, because we perceive it slightly, it cannot,
at any rate, be so material or so solid as those which
we perceive more sensibly.
In regard to which I desire first that you observe
that all bodies, solid as well as liquid, are composed
of one and the same matter, and that it is impossible
to conceive that the particles of this matter ever com-
pose a substance more solid, or which occupies less
space, than those do where each one of them is
touched on all sides by those which environ it ;
whence it follows, as it seems to me, that if there is a
vacuum anywhere, it must rather be in solid than in
liquid bodies ; for it is evident that the particles of
these latter may be more easily compressed and
brought to bear upon one another, because they are
in motion, than would be possible in the case of those
of others which are motionless.
*Princ., pt. ii, 16, 17, 18 (CEuvres, t. 3, p. 133, seg.); Veitch's
Descartes, p. 241.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 221
For example, if you put a powdered substance
into a vase, you shake the vase and strike it, in order
to get in more ; but if you pour into it any liquid, it
immediately takes up as little space as it can be made
to occupy. And, also, if you consider in this relation
some of the experiments which philosophers are wont
to make use of in order to show that there is no void
in nature, you will easily see that all those spaces
which people think are empty, and where they per-
ceive nothing but air, are at least as full, and filled
with the same matter, as those where they perceive
other bodies.
For, tell me, pray, what likelihood there is that
nature would make the heavier bodies rise and the
harder ones break, as we find that she does in certain
machines, rather than suffer that any of their parts
should fail to be in contact with each other, or with
some other bodies ; and that, nevertheless, she should
permit the particles of the air, which are so ready to
yield and to dispose themselves in every way, to
remain, some next others without being in contact on
all sides, or without there being any body between
them which they could touch ? Is it easy to believe
that the water in a well would rise upward, contrary
to its natural inclination, merely that the tube of a
pump might be filled, and to suppose that the water in
the clouds should not descend to fill the spaces below,
if there were never so little void between the particles
of the bodies which they contain ?
But you might here present a difficulty of consider-
able weight, namely, that the particles which compose
liquid bodies cannot, apparently, be in incessant
motion, as I have said they were, if there do not
exist empty space between them, at least in the
222 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
places from which they start, in proportion to the
distance which they move. I should have some
trouble in meeting this objection had I not satisfied
myself, by various experiments, that all the motions
which take place on the earth are of a circular form ;
that is to say, that when a body quits its place, it always
enters that of another, and that one into that of
another, and so on up to the last, which takes, at the
same instant, the place left by the first, so that there
exists a void between them no more when they are in
motion than when they are at rest. And notice here
that it is not on this account necessary that all the
particles of a body which are in motion together
should be exactly arranged in a round line in the form
of a true circle, nor even that they should be of the
same size and figure ; for these inequalities may easily
be compensated by other inequalities in their velocity.
Now we do not ordinarily notice these circular
movements when bodies are moving in the air, because
we are accustomed to conceive the air only as an
empty space ;but watch the fish swimming in the basin
of a fountain ; if they do not come too near the sur-
face of the water they do not disturb it at all, although
they pass beneath it with very great swiftness; whence
it manifestly appears that the water which they push
before them does not push indiscriminately all the
water of the basin, but only that which can best
serve to complete the circle of their movement and
re-enter into the place which they leave behind. And
this example is enough to show how easy and familiar
to nature these circular movements are ; but I will now
adduce another, to show that there is never any other
than a circular movement. When the wine in a cask
does not flow out at the opening below, because the
PHYSICS] THE WORLD J OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 223
one above is closed, it is incorrect to say, as is com-
monly said, that this is due to the " horror of a
vacuum." It is well understood that the wine has no
mind whereby it can fear anything ; and if it had, I
do not see what occasion it would have to fear that
vacuum, which is really nothing but a chimera ; but it
must be said rather that it cannot pass out of the
cask because the outside is as full as it can be, and
that the portion of the air, the place of which it
would occupy if it should descend, could find no
other where to bestow itself in all the rest of the uni-
verse, unless an opening were made at the top of the
cask, by which this air might remount in a circle to
the place left.
As for the rest, I will not affirm that there is no
void at all in nature ; I fear my discourse would run
on too long if I should undertake to explain what
there is of void ; and the facts I have just mentioned
are not sufficient to prove it, although they are
sufficient to convince us that the spaces where we per-
ceive nothing are filled with the same matter, and con-
tain at least as much of this matter as those which are
occupied with bodies which we perceive ; so that, when
a vase, for example, is full of gold or lead, it does
not, on that account, contain more matter than when
we think it is empty. This may seem very strange to
many whose mind does not reach beyond their fingers,
and who think there is nothing at all except what they
touch.
But when you shall have taken into consideration
what it is that makes us perceive a body or not per-
ceive it, I am sure you will not find anything incredible
in this, for you will clearly understand that, so far
from it being true that all the things which are about
224 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
us are perceptible, on the contrary it is those which
are most commonly present which are the least so, and
those which are always present are never perceptible.
The heat of the heart is very great, but we do not
perceive it, because it is uniform ; the weight of the
body is not small, but it does not inconvenience us ;
we do not notice even that of our garments, because
we are accustomed to wear them ; and the reason for
this is clear enough, for it is certain that we cannot
perceive any body unless it cause some change in the
organs of our senses ; that is to say, unless it set in
motion in some way the minute particles of matter of
which these organs are composed ; which objects that
are not always present may easily do, provided they
have sufficient force; for if they consume something
in their action, nature can repair this afterward, when
they are no longer acting; but as for those substances
with which we are continually in contact, if they have
never had the power to produce any change in our
senses, and to set in motion any particles of their mat-
ter, it may be they have so powerfully excited them at
the beginning of our existence as to disunite them
entirely from the rest, and so they may have left there
only those which entirely resist their action, and by
means of which they could not in any way be per-
ceived ; whence you see that is no marvel that there
should be many spaces around us where we do not
perceive any substance, although they may contain no
fewer than those where we perceive many.
But it is not necessary on that account to suppose
that this grosser air, which we draw into our lungs in
breathing, which becomes wind when set in motion,
which appears hard to us when confined in a balloon,
and which is composed only of exhalations and vapors,
PHYSICS] THE WORLD J OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 225
is as solid as water or the earth. We must follow in
this the common opinion of philosophers, all of whom
assure us that it is more rare. And this is easily as-
certained by experience, for the particles of a drop of
water being separated from one another by the agi-
tation of heat can make much more of this air than
the space where the water was could contain; whence
it certainly follows that there is a great number of
minute interspaces between the particles of which it
is composed; for there is no way of conceiving, other-
wise, a rare body. But because these interspaces can-
not be empty, as I have said above, I conclude from
all this that there are of necessity some other bodies,
one or many, mixed with this air, which fill as com-
pletely as possible the minute interspaces which exist
between its particles. There now remains only to
consider what these other bodies may be, and after
that I hope it will not be difficult to comprehend the
probable nature of light.
226 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
CHAPTER V.
Of the number of elements and their qualities.
PHILOSOPHERS assure us that there is, above the
clouds, a certain air far more rare than ours, and
which is not composed of vapors of the earth, as this
is, but constitutes an element by itself. They say,
also, that above this air there is still another substance
yet more rare, which they call the element of fire.
They add further that these two elements are mingled
with the water, the air, and the earth in the compo-
sition of all inferior bodies ; so that I only follow their
opinion if I say that this more subtle air and this
element of fire fill the interspaces which are between
the particles of the grosser air which we breathe,
so that these substances, intermixed with one another,
compose a mass which is as solid as any substance
can be.
But in order that I may make you better understand
my thought upon this subject, and that you may not
suppose that I would have you believe all that philos-
ophers tell us about the elements, I must describe them
to you in my own way.
I conceive the first, which may be called the ele-
ment of fire, as a liquid the most subtle and pene-
trating in the universe ; and, in accordance with what
has been said above concerning the nature of liquid
bodies, I imagine its particles much smaller and as
moving much more swiftly than those of other bodies ;
or rather, in order not to be compelled to admit any
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 227
vacuum in nature, I do not attribute to it particles
having any size or determinate figure, but I am per-
suaded that the impetuosity of its movement is suffi-
cient to cause it to be divided in every form and
manner on meeting with other bodies, and that its
particles change their form at every instant to accom-
modate themselves to the spaces which they enter, so
that there is never a passage so narrow, nor any angle
so small, between the particles of other bodies, where
those of this element cannot penetrate without diffi-
culty, and which they cannot fill completely.
As for the second, which may be taken for the
element of air, I conceive it, indeed, also, as a very
rare liquid, when compared with the third : but, when
compared with the first, it is necessary to attribute
some magnitude and some figure to each of its
particles, and to imagine them almost entirely round
and joined together, like grains of sand and dust ; so
that they cannot so easily come in contact nor press
so much against one another but that there always
remain about them many small interstices, into
which it is the easier for the first element to glide,
because they have to undergo no change of form in
order exactly to fill them. And so I am persuaded
that this second element cannot be so pure in any
part of the universe that it has not always in it some
small part of the matter of the first.
Besides these two elements I recognize only a third,
namely that of earth, the particles of which I suppose
to be as much larger and as moving with as much less
rapidity in comparison to those of the second, as the
latter do in comparison with those of the first ; and,
also, I think it sufficient to conceive it as one or
as many great masses, the parts of which have very
228 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
little or no motion whatever, which should make them
change their position with respect to one another.
If you are surprised that, for the explanation of
these elements, I make no use of the qualities called
heat, cold, moisture, dryness, as do the philosophers,
I will inform you that these qualities appear to me
to need explanation themselves, and that, if I am not
mistaken, not only these four qualities, but also all
the rest, and, indeed, all the forms of inanimate bodies,
can be explained without the necessity of supposing
for this purpose anything else in their matter than
the motion, size, figure, and arrangement of these
particles ; accordingly, I can easily make you under-
stand why I accept no other elements than those I
have described ; for the difference which would exist
between them and the bodies which philosophers call
mixed, or mingled, and composite, consists in this,
that the forms of those composite bodies always con-
tain in themselves some qualities which are hostile
and harmful, or, at least, which do not tend to mutual
preservation ; whereas the forms of elements should
be simple and have no qualities which do not perfectly
agree together so perfectly that each should tend
to the preservation of all the rest. Examine, as much
as you please, all the forms which the various motions,
the various figures, and sizes, and the different ar-
rangement of the particles of matter can impart to
composite bodies, and I assure you that you will not
find one which has not in it qualities which cause it
to change, and which, in changing, would reduce itself
to some one of those of the elements.
As for example, flame the form of which requires it
to have particles which move very swiftly and which,
at the same time, must have some magnitude, as has
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 229
been said above cannot exist long without consuming
itself ; for either the magnitude of its particles, im-
parting to them energy of action upon other sub-
stances, will cause their motion to be diminished, or the
violence of their motion, shattering them when they
clash against other substances, will cause them some
loss of magnitude ; and, in this way, they might, little
by little, be reduced to the form of the third element,
or to that of the second, and even, also, some of them
to that of the first. And thereby you may understand
the difference between this flame, or common fire, as
we know it, and the element of fire which I have de-
scribed. And you should also know that the elements
of air and of earth, that is to say the second and third
elements, are not more similar to the grosser air which
we breathe and this earth upon which we walk ; but
that, in general, all the substances which exist about
us are mixed or composite, and subject to decay.
And yet it must not be supposed on that account
that the elements have no places in the universe par-
ticularly assigned to them, and where they can per-
petually preserve themselves in their native purity ;
but, on the contrary, since each particle of matter
tends always to reduce itself to some one of its forms,
and, once being reduced thereto, it never tends to leave
it, although indeed God might have created at the
beginning only composite bodies ; nevertheless, during
the time the universe has existed, all bodies have had
sufficient time to leave their own forms and take those
of the elements ; so that now there is great proba-
bility that all bodies, which are large enough to be
reckoned among the more important parts of the uni-
verse, have each of them only the quite simple form
of one of the elements, and that composite substances
230 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
exist nowhere else than upon the surfaces of these
great bodies : but they must necessarily exist there ;
for, the elements being hostile by nature, two of them
cannot come into contact without each acting upon
the surface of the other, and thus imparting to the
matter which is there the different forms of composite
substances.
In reference to which, if we consider, in general, all
the bodies of which the universe is composed, we shall
mid only three kinds which can be called great and be
reckoned among its principal portions : that is to say,
the sun and fixed stars for the first, the heavens for
the second, and the earth, with the planets and the
comets, for the third ; we have, therefore, good reason
for thinking that the sun and fixed stars have no other
form than that of the first element quite pure ; the
heavens, that of the second ; and the earth, with the
planets and the comets, that of the third.
I put the planets and the comets with the earth,
because seeing that they resist the light as it does,
and reflect its rays, I can perceive no difference. I
put the sun with the fixed stars, and attribute to them
a nature quite opposite to that of the earth, for the
action of their light alone convinces me that their
substance is of a matter extremely rare and mobile.
As for the heavens, inasmuch as they cannot be
perceived by our senses, I think I am right in attribut-
ing to them an intermediate nature, between that of
the luminous bodies, the action of which we perceive,
and that of the hard and heavy substances, the resist-
ance of which we feel.
Finally, we are not aware of the existence of com-
posite bodies in any other place than upon the surface
of the earth ; and when we consider that the whole
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 231
space which contains them namely, all that which lies
between the highest clouds and the deepest mines
which the greed of man has dug to extract the metals
is extremely small in comparison of the earth and the
immense expanse of the sky, we can easily imagine
that these composite bodies, all taken together, are
only the outside rind which has been formed upon
the surface of the earth by the motion and mixture of
the matter of the heavens which surround it.
And thus we shall have occasion to think that not
only in the air that we breathe, but also in all other
composite substances, even to the hardest stones and
the heaviest metals, there are particles of the ele-
ment of air mixed with those of the earth, and con-
sequently, also, particles of the element of fire, be-
cause this is always found in the pores of that of the
air.
But it is to be observed that, although there are
particles of these three elements mingled with each
other in all these substances, it is, properly speaking,
only those which on account of their size or the
difficulty with which they move, are to be referred to
the third, which compose all the substances which we
perceive around us ; for the particles of the two other
elements are so rare that they cannot be perceived by
our senses ; and thus all these substances can be im-
agined as being sponges, in which, although there are
a quantity of pores or holes which are always full of
air or water, or some similar liquid, it is, nevertheless,
not supposed that these liquids enter into the com-
position of the sponge. There still remain many
other things for me to explain, and I should be very
glad to add some reasons to make my views seem
more probable, but in order that the length of this
232 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
discourse may seem the less tedious to you, I wish to
clothe a part of it in the guise of a fable, through
which I hope the truth will not fail sufficiently to ap-
pear, and will be no less agreeable to look upon than
if I should present it quite naked.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 233
CHAPTER VI.
Description of a new world and of the qualities of the
matter of which it is composed.
LET, then, your thought pass for a little while beyond
this world, that you may behold another wholly new
one, which I shall cause to rise to view in imaginary
spaces. Philosophers tell us that these spaces are in-
finite ; and they surely ought to be believed, since it
is themselves who have made them ; but that this
infinity may not hinder us or prove an embarrass-
ment, let us not try to get to the end of it : let us
proceed so far only as to lose sight of all the creatures
God has made in five or six thousand years ; and when
we have come to a stand there at some fixed point,
let us imagine that God creates anew all around us
so much matter as that, whatever direction our imagi-
nation may take, it shall discover no empty place.
Grant that the ocean is not infinite, those who are
upon a ship in the middle of it can extend their view
apparently to infinity, and nevertheless there is water
beyond what they can see ; thus, although our imagi-
nation seems to be able to stretch to infinity, and this
new matter may not be supposed to be infinite, we
may nevertheless well suppose that it fills spaces far
greater than all those we shall have imagined ; and
yet, in order that there may be no ground for objec-
tion in all this, let us not allow our imagination to
stretch itself as far as it can, but let us purposely con-
fine it within a certain space, which need not be very
234 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
great for example, the distance between the earth and
the principal stars of the firmament ; and let us sup-
pose that the matter which God shall have created
stretches far beyond, to an indefinite distance in all
directions ; for this is, indeed, more likely, and we can
more easily prescribe limits to the activity of our
thought than to the works of God.
Now, since we take the liberty to fashion this matter
according to our fancy, we will attribute to it, if you
please, a nature in which there is nothing at all that
anyone cannot know as perfectly as possible ; and,
in order to this, let us suppose expressly that it has
not the form of earth, or fire, or air, or of any other
thing in particular, as wood, stone, or metal ; nor the
qualities of being hot or cold, dry or moist, light or
heavy ; or that it has any taste, or odor, or sound, or
color, or light, or other similar quality, in the nature
of which it could be said there was something which
is not clearly known by everybody.
And, on the other hand, let us not think of it as
being that primary matter of philosophers, which has
been so stripped of all its forms and qualities that
there is nothing remaining which can be clearly con-
ceived ; but let us conceive of it as a true substance
perfectly solid, which uniformly fills all the length,
breadth, and depth of that great space, in the midst of
which we have stayed our thought, so that each one
of its particles always occupies a portion of that space
so related to its magnitude that it could not fill a
greater, nor contract itself into a less, nor allow,
while it remains there, any other to enter it.
Add to this, that this matter can be divided into all
the parts and according to all the figures we can im-
agine, and that each one of its parts is capable of tak-
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 235
ing on also all the motions which we can conceive of ;
and suppose, further, that God has actually divided it
into many such parts, some greater, some smaller ;
some of one figure, others of another, whatever we
may be pleased to fancy ; not that, in doing so, he has
separated them from one another, so that there should
be any empty space between two of them ; but let
us suppose that the only distinction to be met with
consists in the variety of the motions he gives to
them, in causing that, at the very instant that they are
created, some of them begin to move in one direction,
others in another ; some more swiftly, others more
slowly (or, if you please, not at all), and that they
continue thereafter their motions according to the
ordinary laws of nature ; for God has so marvelously
ordained these laws that, although we should sup-
pose that he had created nothing more than what I
have said, and even that he had established therein
no order or proportion, but that he had made a
chaos the most confused and the most perplexed
that poets could describe, they would be sufficient
to cause the parts of this chaos to disentangle them-
selves, and to arrange themselves in such good order
that they would take the form of a very perfect
world, and one in which not only light would be
seen, but also all other things, in general and partic-
ular, which appear in this real world.
But, before I go on to explain this more at length,
pause to consider yet a little further this chaos, and
observe that it contains nothing which is not so per-
fectly known to you that you cannot even pretend to
be ignorant of it ; for as to the qualities I have as-
signed to it, if you have attended, you have noticed
that I have supposed such only as you could conceive.
236 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
And as for the matter of which I have composed it,
there is nothing more simple or more easy to under-
stand in the inanimate world ; and the idea of it is so
comprehended in all those objects which our imagina-
tion can frame that it must necessarily be that you
conceive it, or that you could never conceive anything.
Nevertheless, since philosophers are so acute that
they know how to find difficulties in things which
seem extremely clear to other men, and the recollec-
tion of their primary matter which they know to be
very hard to conceive of might prevent them from
understanding that of which I am speaking, I must
tell them just here that, if I am not mistaken, the
whole difficulty which they experience in regard to it
arises from their desire to distinguish it from its
quantity and extension, that is to say, from its prop-
erty of occupying space ; wherein, indeed, I am quite
willing that they should think themselves to be right,
for I do not mean to stop to refute them ; but on
their part they ought not to find it strange if I
suppose that the quantity of the matter which I have
described does not differ from its substance any more
than number does from things numbered, and if I
conceive its extension, or its property of occupying
space, not at all as an accident, but as its true form
and its essence ; for they cannot deny that it is very
easy to conceive it in this way.
And my purpose is not to explain, like them,
things which really exist in the actual world ; but
simply to fancy one at pleasure, in which there should
be nothing which the dullest minds are not capable
of conceiving, and which might not, nevertheless, be
created just as I have imagined it. If I should in-
troduce therein the least thing which should prove
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 237
obscure, it would be owing to the fact that included
in that obscurity there was some concealed contradic-
tion of which I had not been aware, and thus, without
knowing it, I had supposed something impossible ;
whereas, on the other hand, if I am able distinctly to
conceive all I include in it, it is certain that, although
there may be nothing like it in the old [real] world,
God might nevertheless create it in a new one, for it
is certain that he can create everything we can con-
ceive.
238 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
CHAPTER VII.
Of the natural laws of this new world.
BUT I will not longer delay to tell you by what
reasons nature alone will be able to disentangle the
confusion of the chaos of which I have spoken, and
what are the laws which God has imposed upon it.
Know, then, in the first place, that by nature I do
not here understand any goddess or any other sort
of imaginary power, but I make use of this word to
signify matter itself, in so far as I consider it with all
the qualities I have attributed to it, taken as a whole,
and under this condition, that God continues to pre-
serve it in the same way that he has created it ; for,
from the simple fact that he continues thus to preserve
it, it necessarily follows that there must be many changes
in its parts, which not being, as it seems to me, prop-
erly attributed to the Divine activity, because that
does not change, I attribute them to nature ; and the
rules in accordance with which these changes occur I
call the laws of nature.
In order the better to understand this, remember
that among the qualities of matter we have supposed
that its particles have had various motions from the
instant of their creation, and, besides that, they are
all in contact on every side, so that there is no empty
space between any two of them ; whence it follows of
necessity that at the time they began to move they
began to change also and to vary their movements as
they encountered one another ; and thus, even if God
PHYSICS] THE WORLD J OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 239
preserved them thereafter in the same manner as he
created them, he does not preserve them in the same
condition that is to say, while God always acts in the
same way, and consequently always produces the
same effect in substance, there result, as it were by
accident, many diversities in this effect. 'And it is
easy to believe that God, who, as everybody ought to
know, is immutable, acts always in the same way.
But without involving myself further in these meta-
physical considerations, I will lay down two or threel
principal rules in accordance with which it must bel
thought that God causes the nature of this new worldj
to act, and which are sufficient, as I believe, to enable
you to comprehend all the rest.
The first is, that each individual particle of matterf
remains always in one and the same state, so long as*
contact with others does not compel it to change it ;
that is to say, if it have a certain magnitude it will
never become smaller, unless others divide it ; if it be
round or square, it will never change this figure, un-
less the rest compel it to do so ; if it be at rest in any
place, it will never leave it, unless others drive it
therefrom ; and if it have once begun to move, it will
continue always to move with uniform energy until
others stop or retard it.
There is no one who does not believe that this same
rule is of force in the old [real] world, in respect to
magnitude, figure, rest, and a thousand other matters
of like kind ; but philosophers have made an excep-
tion in the case of motion, which is, nevertheless, the
thing which I desire most expressly to include in it.
Do not think, however, that I intend to oppose them :
the motion of which they speak is so very different from
that which I have in mind, it may easily happen that
240 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
what is true of the one should not be so of the other.
They admit themselves that the nature of theirs is
very little understood, and to render it intelligible in
any way they have been unable to explain it more
clearly than in these terms : motus est actus entis in
potentia prout in potentia est, which are so obscure to
me that I am constrained to leave them here in their
own language, because I cannot interpret them (and
indeed these words, le mouvement est Vacte (Tun fare
en puissance, en tant quil est en puissance, are no clearer
in French). But, on the other hand, the nature of
the motion I intend here to speak of is so easy to
comprehend, that the geometers themselves, who, of
all men, have made the greatest efforts to conceive
very distinctly the things they have treated of, have
judged the nature of motion more simple and more
intelligible than that of their surfaces and their lines,
as appears in the fact that they have explained the
line by the motion of a point, and the surface by that
of a line.
The philosophers suppose, also, many motions which
they think could occur without a body changing its
place, as those which they call motus adformam, motus
ad calorem, motus ad quantitatem (motion as to form,
motion as to heat, motion as to quantity), and a thou-
sand others : for my part, I know of none more easy
to conceive than the lines of the geometers, which
bodies make in passing from one place to another
and successively occupying all the spaces between
the two.
Besides, they attribute to the least of these motions
an existence much more substantial and real than
they do to rest, which they say is merely privation ;
for my part, I conceive that rest is as much a quality
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 241
to be attributed to matter, so long as it remains in one
place, as motion is, so long as it changes its place.
Finally, the motion of which they speak is of a
nature so strange that, whereas all other things have
for their end their perfection, and aim only to pre-
serve themselves, this has no other end or aim but
rest, and, contrary to all the laws of nature, it aims at
its own destruction ; but, on the contrary, that which
I have in mind follows the same laws of nature which
bring about in general all the arrangements and all
the qualities which are found in matter, as well as
those which the learned call modos et cntia rationiscum
fundamento in re (modes and entities of reason with
foundation in things), together with qualitates reales
(real qualities), in which I candidly confess that I find
no more reality than in the rest.
I suppose, for the second rule, that when one body|
impels another, it cannot impart to it any motionj
without at the same time losing so much of its own,
nor take from it but so much as its own is thereby in-
creased. This rule, together with the preceding,
agrees very well with all the facts which we observe
when a body begins or ceases to move, on account of
being pushed or stopped by another. For, having as-
sumed the preceding rule, we are free from the diffi-
culty in which the learned find themselves when they
wish to give a reason why a stone continues to move
for some time after it has left the hand of one who
has thrown it ; for we ought rather to ask ourselves
why it should not continue to move on forever. But
the reason is easy to give ; for who can deny that
the air in which it is moving offers it some re-
sistance ? We can hear the air whistle when it is
parted, and if set in motion by a fan, or any other
242 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
very light and very broad body, it can be sensibly felt
by the hand that it hinders the movement rather than
helps it, as some would have us say. But if the effect
of its resistance is not explained according to our
second rule, and it is thought that the more a body
can resist the more capable it becomes of stopping
the movement of others, as perhaps one might at first
be inclined to think, there would be considerable dif-
ficulty in giving a reason why the movement of this
stone is sooner overcome when it meets a soft body,
the resistance of which is moderate, than when it
meets a harder one which resists it more ; as, also, why,
as soon as it has made a slight effort against this last,
it instantly returns upon its path rather than arrest or
interrupt its motion on account of it. Whereas, ad-
mitting this rule, there is no difficulty at all ; for it
instructs us that the motion of a body is not retarded
on meeting another in proportion to the degree with
which this resists it, but only in proportion to the
degree in which its own resistance of it is overcome,
and that, in submitting to it, it receives into itself the
energy of motion which the other loses.
Now, although in most of the movements which we
observe in the real world, we might not perceive that
the bodies which begin or cease to move are impelled
or arrested by any others, we have no ground on that
account to conclude that these two rules are not ex-
actly observed ; for it is certain that these bodies may
frequently be set in motion by the two elements of air
and fire, which are always intermixed with them,
though they cannot be perceived there, as was said a
while ago ; or even by this grosser atmosphere, which
also cannot be perceived ; and that they may be able
to transmit it presently to this grosser air, and again
PHYSICS] THE WORLD J OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 243
to the whole mass of the earth, in which, being dis-
persed, it may also not be perceived.
But although all that our senses have ever experi-
enced in the real world might appear contrary to
these two rules, the reason which has indicated
them to me seems so strong that I cannot help
thinking myself obliged to admit them in the new one
which I am describing to you ; for what firmer or
more solid foundation could be found to establish a
truth, although one were at liberty to choose what he
would, than the constancy and immutability of God ?
Now these two rules follow manifestly from the
simple fact that God is immutable, and that, acting
always in the same way, he produces always the same
effect : for granting that he has put a certain quantity
of motion into all matter universally at the first in-
stant that he created it, it must be admitted that he
also preserves as much of it there, or else it cannot be
thought that he acts always in the same way ; and
granting with this that from that first instant the va-
rious parts of matter, in which these motions are found
unequally distributed, have begun to retain them or
to transfer them one to another, according as they
had power to do, it must necessarily be thought that
he makes them always continue to do the same thing ;
and this is what these two rules contain.
I will add, for the third, that when a body moves,
although its movement is most frequently in a curved
line, and can never be otherwise than circular in some
. degree, as has been said above, nevertheless each one
of its particles in particular tends always to continue
its own motion in a straight line. And so their action
that is to say, their inclination to move is different
from their movemen"
244 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
For example, if a wheel be turned on its axle,
although all its parts move in a circle, because being
joined together they could not move otherwise, never-
theless their tendency is to move in a right line, as
plainly appears if by chance any one is detached from
the rest ; for as soon as it is set free, its movement
ceases to be circular, and it continues on in a straight
line. Likewise, when a stone is whirled in a sling,
not only does it go in a straight line as soon as it
leaves it, but further, all the time it is in it, it presses
upon the center of the sling, and stretches the cord,
thus showing plainly that it always has a tendency to
go in a straight line, and that it moves in a circle only
by constraint.
This rule rests on the same foundation as the other
two, and depends only on the fact that God preserves
each thing by one continuous activity, and that, conse-
quently, he does not preserve it such as it may have
been some time before, but precisely such as it is
at the very instant that he preserves it. Now the
case is that, among all movements, that which is in a
straight line is the only one which is entirely simple,
and one the whole nature of which may be embraced in a
single instant; for, in order to conceive it, it is enough
to think of a body actually moving in one fixed direc-
tion, which is the case in every one of the instants
which can be determined during the time it is in
motion ; whereas, to conceive circular movement, or
any other that can exist, it is necessary to consider at
least two of these instants, or rather two of its parts,
and the relation between them ; but in order that
philosophers, or sophists rather, may not take occasion
here to practice their superfluous subtleties, notice
that I do not say that movement in a straight line can
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 245
take place in an instant, but simply that all that is re-
quired to produce it exists in the body in every in-
stant which can be determined during its movement,
and not all that is required to produce the cir-
cular It must then be said, according to
this rule, that God alone is the author of all the move-
ments in the universe, in so far as they exist, and in
so far as they are in straight lines; but that there are
various arrangements of matter which render them
irregular and curved, just as theologians teach us that
God is the author of all our actions, in so far as they
exist, and in so far as they have any goodness in
them, but that it is the various dispositions of our
wills which make them bad.
I might add here many rules to determine in par-
ticular when, and how, and how much the movement
of any body can be deflected, and increased or di-
minished, by meeting others, in which are summarily
comprehended all natural phenomena ; but I shall
content myself with informing you that, besides the
three laws which I have explained, I do not intend to
assume any others except those which follow infalli-
bly from the eternal verities upon which mathema-
ticians are wont to found their most certain and most
evident demonstrations ; those verities, I say, in ac-
cordance with which God himself has taught us that
he has disposed all things by number, weight, and
measure, and the knowledge of which is so natural to
our minds that we cannot help knowing them infallibly
when we conceive them distinctly, nor doubting that,
had God created many worlds, they would be no less
true in all than in this.
So that those who shall have sufficiently examined
the consequences of these verities, and of our rules,
246 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
will be able to know effects by their causes, and, to
express myself in the language of the school, may
have a priori demonstrations of all that can come to
pass in this new world. And, in order that there may
be no exception whatever to embarrass us, we will add
to our assumptions, if you please, that God will never
work any miracle there, and that the intelligences, or
reasonable minds, which we shall hereafter assume to
be there, will never interfere in any way with the
ordinary course of nature. In what follows, never-
theless, I do not promise to place before you exact
demonstrations of all that I have to say; it will be
enough that I open the way by which you shall be able
to find them out for yourselves, when you will take
pains to seek them. Most minds are displeased when
things are made too easy for them. And to paint a
picture here which shall please you, I must make use
of shadows as well as colors. Accordingly, I shall con-
tent myself with following out the description which
I have begun, having no other design than to tell you
a story.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 247
CHAPTER VIII.
Of the formation of the sun and the stars of this
new world.
WHATEVER inequality and confusion we might sup-
pose God had introduced at the beginning among
the particles of matter, it is necessary, according to the
laws which he has imposed upon nature, that nearly
all of them should afterward be reduced to one size
and one moderate motion, and thus that they should
take the form of the second element, such as I have
explained it above. For, considering this matter in
the state in which it might have been before God had
set it in motion, it should be conceived of as being
like the hardest and most solid body in the world.
And as one could not push a single particle of such a
body without also, by the same means, pushing or
drawing all the rest, so it must be thought that the
action or force of motion, or division, which at the
first had been placed in any of its particles, would
have expanded and distributed itself at the same
instant to all the rest as uniformly as possible.
It is true that this uniformity could not have been
absolutely perfect, for, in the first place, because
there is no void at all in this world, it would have
been impossible that all the particles of matter should
move in a straight line ; but being very nearly equal,
and one being almost as easily deflected as another,
they should all agree together in a circular motion of
some sort. And nevertheless, inasmuch as we sup-
248 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
pose that God has moved them variously at the first,
we must not think that they would all agree in re-
volving about a single center, but about many differ-
ent ones, which we may conceive of as being differently
situated with respect to one another.
Accordingly, we must conclude that they would
naturally be in less rapid motion, or smaller, or both
at once, in the places nearer these centers than in those
more remote : for all having a disposition to continue
their movement in a straight line, it is certain that
those are the strongest that is, the largest, among
those which may be equally swift in their motion, and
the swiftest among those which may be equal in size
which have to describe the greater circles, as being
the nearest to the straight line. And as for the
matter contained between three or more of these
circles, it might well be at first much less divided and
less swift in its motion than all the rest ; and what is
more, inasmuch as we suppose that God at the begin-
ning has put all sorts of inequality into the different
parts of this matter, we ought to think that from that
time it has had all sorts of sizes and shapes, and has
been disposed to move, or not to move, in every way
and manner.
But this does not prevent them afterward becoming
nearly all uniform, especially those which remain at
an equal distance from the centers around which they
revolve ; for, being unable to move independently, it
was necessary that the swifter communicate of their
motion to those which had less, and that the greater
break up and divide, in order to be able to pass over
the same spaces as those which preceded them, or, at
least, that they mount higher ; and thus they would
arrange themselves, in a short time, all in order, so
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 249
that each one would find itself more or less distant
from the center around which it had taken its course,
according as it had more or less of size or swiftness
than the rest ; and also, inasmuch as size always con-
flicts with speed, it must be thought that the most
distant from each center were those which, being a
little smaller than those nearer, have been also much
swifter.
The same would be true of their figures. Although
we may suppose that these at the beginning were of
every sort, and that they had, for the most part, many
angles and many sides, like the pieces which split off
from a stone when it is broken, it is certain that
afterward, in moving and striking against one an-
other, they would have rubbed off, little by little, the
small points of their angles, and blunted the edges of
their sides, until they became by degrees almost all
round, as grains of sand and flint do when rolled
about in running water ; so that there might not now
be any noticeable difference between those which are
near enough together, nor even between those which
are very distant, except in the fact that they can move
a little faster, and be a little smaller or larger, one than
the other ; and this does not prevent our attributing
to all of them the same form. Only an exception
must be made of some which, having been from the
first much larger than the rest, have not so easily be-
come divided, or which, having had very irregular and
resistant shapes, have tended to unite in a mass rather
than to break up and become round, and thus they
have retained the form of the third element, and
have served to compose the planets and the comets,
as I shall hereafter explain to you.
Further, it is to be noted that the matter which has
250 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
come off from the surface of the parts of the second
element, in proportion as they have broken up and
blunted the sharp corners of their angles in becoming
round, has necessarily acquired a motion much swifter
than theirs, and at the same time a facility of dividing
and changing its shape at every moment to accom-
modate itself to that of the places where it happens
to be, and so it has taken the form of the first element.
It is also to be noted that what there is of this first
element, more than is needed to fill the small inter-
spaces that the particles of the second, which are
spherical, necessarily leave around them, must move
toward the centers about which they [the particles of
the second element] revolve, because these occupy all
the other places more distant, and that it must there
form round bodies perfectly liquid and rare, which,
turning incessantly much more rapidly and in the
same direction as the particles of the second element
which environ them, have power to increase the mo-
tion of those to which they are nearest, and also to
push them all in every direction, drawing them from
the center toward the circumference, so that they also
push one another, and this by a mode of action which
it is necessary that I presently describe as exactly as
I am able to do ; for I apprise you here in advance
that it is this action which we take to be light, just as
we take those round bodies composed of matter of
the first element quite pure, the one to be the sun, the
others to be the fixed stars, of the new world I am de-
scribing to you, and the matter of the second element,
which revolves around them, to be the heavens
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 251
CHAPTER IX.
Of the origin and course of the planets and comets in
general, and in particular of the comets.
Now, to begin to speak to you of the planets and
comets, consider that as respects the diversity o.~ the
parts of the matter which I have assumed, although
the larger part of them, through clashing and breaking
up on encountering one another, would take the form
of the first or second element, there would still be
found two sorts which have necessarily retained the
form of the third, namely, those whose figure was so
extended and so resistant that, on meeting one an-
other, it was easier for several of them to join together
and by this means to become larger, than to break up
and become smaller ; and those which were from the
beginning the largest and most massive of all were
well able to break and shatter the others on striking
them, but not, reciprocally, to be broken and shattered.
If now, you should conceive that these two sorts of
parts were at first in very rapid motion, or even that
they moved very slowly, or not at all, it is certain that
afterward they would have to move at the same rate
as the matter of the heavens which contained them ;
for, if at first they were moved more swiftly than this
matter, as they would unavoidably push it forward as
they encountered it in their path, they must in a short
time have transferred to it a part of their own mo-
mentum ; and if, on the contrary, they had not in
themselves any disposition to move, nevertheless,
252 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
being surrounded on all sides by this matter of the
heavens, they would necessarily have followed its
course ; just as we see every day that boats and
various other bodies which float upon the water, the
largest and most massive, as well as the smallest, fol-
low the current of the water in which they are, when-
ever there is nothing else to prevent them.
And observe that, among the various bodies which
thus float upon the water, those which are solid and
massive enough, as boats commonly are, especially
the larger and more heavily laden, have always much
more force than it to continue their movement, even
though it may be from it alone that they have received
it ; and that, on the contrary, those which are very
light, such as the masses of white foam which are seen
floating along on rivers during a storm, have less of
it. So that if you imagine two rivers which unite at
a certain point and separate soon after, before their
waters, which must be conceived as very calm and
quite uniform in force, but also very rapid, have had
time to mingle, boats or other bodies massive and
heavy enough, which are carried along by the current
of one, might easily pass into the other, whereas the
lighter ones would keep separate from it, and be borne
by the force ot this stream toward parts where it is
less rapid
From this illustration it is easy to understand that,
in whatever place there may be found, at the begin-
ning, parts of matter which could not take the form
of the second element, nor of the first, all the largest
and most massive among them would have been com-
pelled in a short time to take their course toward the
outer circle of the heavens which contain them, and
to pass continually thereafter from one of these
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 253
heavens into another, without ever stopping for any
long time together in the same heavens ; and that, on
the contrary, all the less massive must have been
pushed in turn toward the center of the heavens
which contained them, by the current of the matter
of those heavens ; and that, considering the forms I
have attributed to them, they must, on meeting, have
united themselves many of them together, and formed
those great globes which, revolving in the heavens,
have there a motion the resultant of all those which
their parts would have when moving separately, so
that some of them would tend toward the circum-
ferences of these heavens, and others toward their
centers. And understand that it is those which
tend thus to move toward the center of any heavens
that we must here call the planets, and those which
pass across the different heavens we must call
comets.
Now, in the first place, in regard to the comets, it
must be observed that there would be but few of them
in this new world, in comparison to the number of
the heavens ; for although, indeed, there might have
been many of them at the beginning, they must, in
course of time, in their passage across the different
heavens, nearly all of them have struck against one
another and gone to pieces, as I have said two vessels
might do by running into one another, so that only
the biggest might now remain. It is necessary, also, to
observe that, when they pass thus from one heaven
into another, they always push before themselves a
little of the matter of that which they leave, and re-
main for some time enveloped in it, until they have
entered pretty well within the borders of the next
heavens ; on being there, they finally free themselves
254 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
of it all at once, as it were, and without taking any
more time perhaps than the sun does to rise in the
morning above our horizon ; so that they move much
more slowly when they tend to pass out of any heaven
than they do a little after entering it. ...
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 255
CHAPTER X.
Of the planets in general, and in particular of the earth
and the moon.
THERE are, likewise, in regard to the planets,
many things to be noted: the first of which is that,
although they all tend toward the centers of the
heavens which contain them, they never can reach
those centers ; for, as I have already said above, it is
the sun and the fixed stars which occupy them
If I have not yet made you sufficiently understand
the cause which makes the parts of the heaven which
are outside [the orbits of the planets], being incom-
parably smaller than the planets, have greater power
than these to continue their movement in a straight
line, consider that this force does not depend solely
on the quantity of the matter in each body, but also
on the extent of its surface. For although when two
bodies are moving with equal velocity, it may be cor-
rect to say that if one contain twice as much matter
as the other, it has, also, twice as much momentum ;
it cannot on that account be said that it has twice
as much power to continue to move in a straight line ;
but it will have just twice as much if, along with that,
its surface be exactly twice as great, because it will
always meet twice as many other bodies which will
resist it ; and it will have much less if its surface is
much more than twice as great.
Now you know that the particles which compose the
heavens are almost quite spherical, and so they have
256 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
that figure which of all others contains the most matter
within the least surface ; and that, on the contrary, the
planets, being composed of small parts which are of
very irregular and extended figure, have great surface
in proportion to the quantity of their matter, so that
they may have much more than most of the parts
of the heaven, and yet also have less than some of
the smaller parts and those nearer the centers ; for
it must be understood that, as between two globes
quite solid as are those parts of the heaven the
smaller has always more surface, in proportion to its
quantity, than the larger has.
And all this may easily be confirmed by experience.
For if a great globe, made of the boughs of trees
all matted together, as the parts of the matter com-
posing the planets may be conceived as being, should
be set in motion, it is certain that it would not con-
tinue its movement so far, although impelled by a
force entirely proportionate to its size, as would an-
other globe much smaller and made of the same wood,
but quite solid ; it is certain, also, quite to the con-
trary, that another globe might be made of the same
wood and quite solid, but which should be so ex-
tremely small that it would have much less power to
continue its movement than the first ; finally, it is
certain that this first would have more or less power
to continue its movement, according as the boughs
which composed it were more or less large and com-
pacted together. From this you see how different
planets may be suspended within the outermost circle
at different distances from the sun, and how it is not
those simply which appear the largest outside, but
those which are in their interior most solid and mas-
sive, which must be the more distant.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 257
It is to be observed, further, that as we find that
boats which follow the current of a river never move
so swiftly as the water which bears them, nor the
largest among them so fast as the smallest ; so,
although the planets follow the course of the matter
of the heavens without resistance, and move by the
same impetus as that, it cannot be said, on that ac-
count, that they ever move so swiftly ; and, also, the
inequality of their movement must have some relation
to that which exists between the greatness of their
mass and the smallness of the parts of the heavens
which environ them. The reason of which is this,
that, generally speaking, the larger a body is, the easier
it is for it to communicate a part of its motion to
other bodies, and the more difficult for other bodies
to communicate to it any of theirs ; for although many
small bodies, when combining together to act upon a
greater, might have as much force as it, nevertheless
they never could make it move so fast in every way
as they move themselves ; because, if they agree in
certain of their movements which they communicate
to it at the same time, they inevitably differ in
others which they do not communicate to it.
Now, there follow from this two things, which
seem to me to be of considerable importance : the
first is that the matter of the heavens must not only
cause the planets to revolve about the sun, but also
about their own center (except when there is any par-
ticular cause to hinder them), and, accordingly, that it
must be composed of small heavens around them
which move in the same way as the greater. And the
second is that, if there meet together two planets un-
equal in size, but so situated as to take their course
in the heavens at the same distance from the sun, so
258 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
that one were exactly so much more solid than the
other was large, the smaller of these two, having a
motion more rapid than the larger, will unite itself
with the small heaven which is around this larger one
and revolve continually with it.* ....
* This celebrated theory of the vortices (les tourbillons) is more
fully set forth, and illustrated by diagrams, in Les Principes de la
Philosophie, iii, 30-157 (CEuvres, t. 3, pp. 198-329).
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 259
CHAPTER XI.
Of Gravity.
BUT I desire now that you consider what the
gravity of this earth is, that is to say, the force which
unites all its parts, and which makes them all tend
toward its center, everyone more or less according as
they are more or less large and solid ; which is
nothing else and consists only in this, that the parts
of the small heaven which surrounds it, turning much
more swiftly than its own do around its center, tend
also with much more force to withdraw themselves
from it, and consequently push them back there.
In which if you find any difficulty from the fact
that I have said so many times that the more massive
and solid bodies, such as I have assumed the comets
to be, would tend toward the circumference of these
heavens, and it would be only the less so which
would be pushed back toward their centers, as if it
should follow from that it would be only the less solid
parts of the earth which could be pushed toward its
center, and the others would necessarily withdraw
from it ; observe that, when I said that the most solid
and massive bodies tend to withdraw from the center
of a heaven, I assumed that they were moving already
with the same impetus as the matter of that heaven :
because it is certain that if they had not yet begun to
move, or if they were in motion, provided this motion
were less rapid than was necessary to follow the
current of this matter, they must be forced by it
260 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
toward the center around which it turned ; and, also,
it is certain that, in proportion as they were greater
and more solid, they would be pushed with more
force and swiftness.
And nevertheless, this would not prevent that, if
they were solid enough to compose comets, they
would tend but little toward the exterior circles of the
heavens, inasmuch as the energy which they should
have acquired in descending toward any one of
their centers would inevitably impart to them force
to pass beyond it and reascend toward its circum-
ference
Now it is evident that a stone, containing in itself
more of the matter of the earth, and in return contain-
ing much less of that of the heaven, than a quantity of
air of equal extent, and also its parts being less im-
pelled by the matter of this heaven than that of this air,
it would not have power to mount above it, but rather,
on the contrary, it would have power to make this
descend below it, so that the air would be light when
compared with the stone ; but heavy when com-
pared with the heaven itself
And you can understand from this that the argu-
ments which many philosophers employ, to refute the
motion of the real earth, have no force at all against
that of the earth which I am describing to you ;
as when they say that if the earth were in motion
heavy bodies would not fall plumb toward its center,
but rather would stray this way and that toward the
sky, and that cannon pointed toward the west would
carry much further than when pointed toward the
east, and that great winds would be felt and great
noises heard in the air, and such like things, which
could happen only on the supposition that the earth
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 261
is not carried forward by the current of the heaven
which surrounds it, but is moved by some other force
and in some other way than this heaven moves.
[Chapter xii., Of the Ebb and Flow of the Sea, requiring dia-
grams, is omitted.]
262 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
CHAPTER XIII.
Of Light.
I HAVE repeatedly said that bodies which revolve
in a circle tend always to withdraw from the centers
of the circles which they describe ; but I must here
determine more precisely in what directions the parts
of the matter of which the heavens and the stars are
composed have a tendency to move. And accord-
ingly, it must be understood that when I speak of a
body tending to move in any direction, I do not
wish it to be supposed on that account that it has in
it any thought or design which carries it hither, but
simply that it is disposed to move that way, whether
it actually does move thither, or some other body
prevents it from doing so ; and it is principally in this
latter signification that I employ the word " tend,"
because it seems to signify some effort, and all effort
presupposes resistance. Now, inasmuch as there are
often various causes which, acting together upon the
same body, counteract one another, it may be said,
for various reasons, that the same body tends to move
in different directions at the same time, as has just
been said that the particles of the earth tend to with-
draw from its center, so long as they are considered
independently, and that they tend on the contrary to
approach it when the force of the particles of the
heavens which push them thither is considered ; and
again that they tend to withdraw from it when con-
trasted with other terrestrial particles which compose
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 263
bodies more massive than they are. As, for example,
a stone whirled in a sling.* ....
Still further I replyf that their other motions
which continue in them [the particles of the second
element], while thus advancing toward the circum-
ference, not allowing them to remain a single instant
arranged in the same way, prevent them from com-
ing in contact, or at least cause that as soon as
they touch they instantly separate again, and thus
they do not cease to advance without interruption
toward the circumference until the whole space is
filled. Accordingly we can draw from this no other
conclusion than that the force by which they tend
toward [the circumference] is probably, as it were, a
tremulous one, and increases and diminishes in vary-
ing minute vibrations, according as they change their
situation, which seems to me a property very well
agreeing with light Finally, the particles of
the first element which . . . compose the body of the
sun, revolving in a circular manner very swiftly about
[its center], tend to scatter themselves in every direc-
tion in straight lines As for the rest, although
they must thus advance toward [the circumference]
if this space be occupied only by the first element, it
is certain that they tend to move thither just the same
if it be filled with any other body, and that, conse-
quently, they push and strive against this body, as it
were, to drive it from its place. So that if the eye of
a man should be at [a point in this circumference] it
would be really pushed upon by the sun as much as
by any of the matter [in the intervening space.] Now
* The various tendencies to move in different directions are
then described and illustrated by diagrams.
f In response to an objection suggested by the author himself.
264 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARl'ES. [PART III
it is to be understood that the inhabitants of this
new world are of such a nature that, when their
eyes are thus pushed upon, they have a sensation
in every respect resembling that which we have of
light.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 265
CHAPTER XIV.
Of the properties of light.
BUT I wish to delay a little longer at this point to ex-
plain the properties of the energy (de I' action) by which
their eyes can be excited. For they agree so perfectly
with those which we observe in light, that when you
shall have considered them, I am sure that you will
declare, as I do, that there is no need of conceiving
in the stars, nor in the heavens, any other quality than
this energy, which is called by the name of light.*
The principal properties of light are : i, That it
spreads itself around on all sides about bodies which
we call luminous ; 2, and to every degree of dis-
tance ; 3, and instantaneously ; 4, and usually in
straight lines, which must be understood as rays of
light ; 5> ar >d that many of these rays, coming from
different points, may gather at one point ; 6, or, com-
ing from the same point, may proceed to different
points ; 7, or, coming from different points, and going
toward different points, may pass by the same point
without interference with one another ; 8, and that
they may also sometimes hinder one another, to wit,
when their force is very unequal, and that of some is
very much greater than that of others ; 9, and finally,
that they can be turned aside by reflection ; 10, or
by refraction; u, and that their force may be in-
creased ; 12, or diminished by the different disposi-
tions or qualities of the matter which receives them.
* Cette action, qui s'appelle du nom de lumire.
266 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
These are the principal properties observed in light,
all of which agree with this energy, as you shall
see :
1. That this energy must spread itself in all direc-
tions around luminous bodies, the reason whereof is
evident, because it is from the circular movement of
their particles that it proceeds.
2. It is also evident that it can extend itself to every
degree of distance ; because, for example, supposing
that the particles of the heavens which are contained
in the space between [the sun and some point in the
circumference of those heavens] are already of them-
selves disposed to move toward [the circumference], as
we have said they are, it cannot be doubted that the
force with which the sun impels those which are
[about it] must make them reach as far as the [circum-
ference], even although it were a distance greater than
that between the most distant stars of the firmament
and ourselves.
3. And considering that the particles of the second
element which are between [the sun and some point
on the circumference] touch upon and press each
other as much as possible, it cannot be doubted also
that the energy by which the first are impelled must
pass in an instant as far as the last, just as that by
which one end of a stick is pushed passes in the same
instant to the other end
4. In regard to the lines along which this energy is
communicated, and which are properly rays of light,
it must be observed that they differ from the particles
of the second element, by the medium of which this
same energy is propagated, and that they are nothing
material in the medium through which they pass, but
that they signify simply in what way and in what di-
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 267
rection the luminous body acts upon that which it
illuminates ; and thus they are not to be conceived
otherwise than as exactly straight, although the par-
ticles of the second element, which serves to transmit
this energy or light, might almost never be so directly
situated one after another as to compose perfectly
straight lines
9, 10. As for reflection and refraction, I have al-
ready sufficiently explained them elsewhere.* Never-
theless, because for the illustration of the movement,
I then made use of a ball instead of speaking of rays
of light, in order by this means to make my discourse
more intelligible ; it remains to me here to bring to
your attention the fact that the energy, or inclination
to move, which is transmitted from one place to an-
other by means of many bodies which are in contact
and which exist without break throughout all the
space between both, follows precisely the same path
wherein this same energy might cause the first of these
bodies to move, if the others were not in its way, with
no other difference except that time would be required
for this body to move, whereas the energy which is in
it may, through the intervention of those which are in
contact with it, extend itself to all distances in an in-
stant ; whence it follows that, in like manner as a ball
is reflected when it hits against the wall of a tennis-
court, and that it suffers refraction when it enters
obliquely into water, or passes out of it, so also when
the rays of light meet a body which does not allow
them to pass through, they must be reflected ; and
when they enter obliquely into any place through
which they can extend themselves more or less easily
than through that whence they proceed, they must
* La Dioptrique, Discours second. (Euvres, t. v, p. 17.
268 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
also, at the point of this change, be deflected and
suffer refraction.
u, 12. Finally, the energy of light is not only more
or less great in each place, according to the quantity
of rays which meet there, but it can also be increased
and diminished by the different dispositions of the
bodies which happen to be in the places through
which it passes, just as the velocity of a ball or stone
thrown into the air may be increased by the winds
which blow in the same direction in which it is moving,
and diminished by those which oppose it.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 269
CHAPTER XV.
That the heavens of this new world must appear to its
inhabitants the same as ours.
HAVING thus explained the nature and properties
of that energy which I understand light to be, it is
necessary also that I explain how by means of it the
inhabitants of the planet, which I have assumed for
the earth, may see the face of their heavens as one
quite like ours. In the first place, there is no doubt
that they must see the [central body] all full of light
and like our sun, seeing that that body sends its rays
from every point of its surface toward their eyes ; and
because it is much nearer them than the stars, it must
appear much larger
It must be understood that the great heavens, that
is to say, those which have a fixed star or sun for
their center, although, perhaps, quite unequal in ex-
tent, must always be of exactly equal energy ; for, if
this equilibrium did not exist, they would inevitably
perish in a short time, or at least they would change
until they acquired this equilibrium But it is
necessary that you further observe, in regard to their
situation, that the stars can never appear in the
places where they really are The reason of
this is that the [different] heavens being unequal in
extent, the surfaces which separate them never hap-
pen to be so disposed that the rays, which cross them
in going from these stars toward the earth, meet them
270 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART III
at right angles ; and, meeting them obliquely, it is
certain, according to what has been shown in the "Diop-
trics,"* that they must be bent and suffer considerable
refraction, inasmuch as they pass much more easily
through one of the sides of this surface than through
the other
Consider, also, as regards the number of these stars,
that frequently the same one might appear in several
places, because of the different surfaces which deflect
its rays toward the earth . . . just as objects are
multiplied when seen through glasses or other trans-
parent bodies cut with many faces.
Further consider, in regard to their size, that
although they must appear much smaller than they
are, because of their extreme distance, and also that,
for the same reason, the larger part of them cannot
appear at all, and others can appear only as the rays
of many uniting together make the parts of the firma-
ment through which they pass a little whiter, and like
certain stars which astronomers call nebulous, or that
great belt of our heavens which the poets feign was
washed in the milk of Juno ; nevertheless, as for those
which are less distant, it is enough to assume them to
be about equal to our sun, in order to conclude that
they would appear as large as the largest in our world.
Besides that, it is very probable that the
[limiting] surfaces of the heavens being of an ex-
tremely fluid matter, which is incessantly in motion,
would constantly shake and undulate somewhat ; and,
consequently, that the stars which are seen through it
would appear scintillating and trembling, as it were,
as do our own, and also, because of their trembling, a
little larger, as does the image of the moon upon a
* Discours second, (Euzres, t. v, p. 21.
PHYSICS] THE WORLD ; OR, ESSAY ON LIGHT. 271
lake, the surface of which is not greatly disturbed nor
tossed, but only slightly ruffled by a breeze.
And finally, it may come about that in course of
time these limiting surfaces change a little, or even
again that some [of them] bend as much in a short
time on occasion, it may be, of a comet approaching
them and, by this means, many stars appear, after a
long time, to be a little changed in position without
being so in magnitude, or slightly changed in magni-
tude without being so in position ; or even that some
begin suddenly to appear or to disappear, as is seen to
happen in the real world.
As for the planets and comets which are in the
same heavens as the sun, remembering that the par-
ticles of the third element of which they are composed
are so large, or so many of them compacted together,
that they can resist the action of light, it is easy to
understand that they must shine by means of the rays
that the sun sends toward them, and which they re-
flect thence toward the earth ; just as opaque or dark
objects in a chamber can be seen by means of the rays
which a torch lighted there sends toward them, and
which return thence toward the eyes of the observers.
And besides, the rays of the sun have a very consid-
erable advantage over those of a torch, which con-
sists in this, that their energy is preserved or even in-
creased more and more in proportion to their distance
from the sun, until they reach the exterior surface of
its heavens, because all the matter of those heavens
tends thither ; whereas the rays of a torch grow feebler
as they recede, in proportion to the extent of the
spherical surfaces which they illuminate, and also, in
some small degree, on account of the resistance of the
air through which they pass. Whence it arises that
2?2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
objects which are in the vicinity of the torch are no-
ticeably brighter than those which are at a distance
from it ; and that the inferior planets are not in the
same proportion more illuminated by the sun than the
superior, nor even than the comets, which are, beyond
comparison, more distant.
Now, experience shows that the same thing happens,
also, in the real world; and, nevertheless, I do not be-
lieve it possible to give a reason for it, if it be as-
sumed that light be anything else in objects than an
energy \une action] or disposition, such as I have ex-
plained it to be. I say an energy or disposition ; for if
you have paid good attention to what I have recently
proved, that, if the space where the sun is were quite
empty, the particles of its heavens would not cease to
tend toward the eyes of observers in the same way as
when they are impelled by its matter, and even with
almost as much force, you may easily conclude that
there would be hardly any need of its having in it any
activity, or even, as it were, any being, other than pure
space, in order to appear such as we see it. As to the
rest, the movement of these planets about their cen-
ter is the cause of their scintillating, yet much less
strongly and in a different way from the fixed stars ;
and, because the moon is devoid of this movement,
it does not scintillate at all.* ....
*The remainder of the treatise, about six pages, requiring dia-
grams, is omitted.
SELECTIONS FROM THE TRACT ON
MAN, ETC.
MAN.*
THESE men shall be composed, as we are, of a soul
and a body ; and I must describe to you first the body
by itself, afterward the soul, also by itself, and finally
I must show you how both these natures are to be
joined and united to compose men which resemble
us.
I assume that the body is nothing else than a statue
or machine of clay which God forms expressly to
make it as nearly like as possible to ourselves, so that
not only does he give it externally the color and the
form of all our members, but also he puts within it all
the parts necessary to make it walk, eat, breathe,' and
in fine imitate all those of our functions which may
be supposed to proceed from matter and to depend
merely on the arrangement of organs.
We see clocks, artificial fountains, mills, and other
similar machines, which, although made by men, are
not without the power of moving of themselves in
many different ways ; and it seems to me that I should
not be able to imagine so many kinds of movements
in this one, which I am supposing to be made by the
hand of God, nor attribute to it so much of artifice
that you would not have reason to think there might
still be more.
Now, I will not stop to describe to you the bones,
nerves, muscles, veins, arteries, stomach, liver, spleen,
heart, brain, nor all the other different parts of which
* CEuvres, t. iv, p. 335, seq.
276 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART IV
it is to be composed ; for I assume them to be in
every respect similar to the parts of our own body which
have the same names, and which you can have shown
to you by any learned anatomist, at least those which
are large enough to be seen, if you do not already
know them well enough yourselves ; and as for those
which, because of their minuteness, are invisible, I
shall be able to make you more easily and clearly
understand them, by speaking of the movements which
depend upon them ; so that it is only necessary here
for me to explain in order these movements, and to
tell you by the same means what functions of our own
they represent
But what is here to be chiefly noted is that all the
most active, vigorous, and finest particles of the blood
tend to run into the cavities of the brain, inasmuch
as the arteries which carry them are those which come
in the straightest line of all from the heart, and, as
you know, all bodies in motion tend, as far as possible,
to continue their motion in a straight line
In regard to the particles of blood which penetrate
to the brain, they serve not only to nourish and sup-
port its substance, but chiefly, also, to produce there a
certain very subtle breath, or rather flame, very active
and very pure, which is called the animal spirits.
For it must be understood that the arteries which
carry them from the heart, after being divided into an
infinitude of small branches, and having formed those
small tissues which are spread like tapestries at the
base of the cavities of the brain, collect about a
certain small gland situated nearly at the middle of
the substance of the brain, just at the entrance of its
cavities, and have at this place a great number of
small openings through which the finest particles of
PHYSIOLOGY] THE TRACT ON MAN. 277
the blood they contain can run into this gland, but
which are too narrow to admit the larger.
It must also be understood that these arteries do
not end there, but that many of them there joined
together in one they mount directly upward and
empty into that great artery which is like a Euripus
[aqueduct] by which the whole exterior surface of the
brain is irrigated. And, moreover, it is to be noted
that the larger particles of the blood may lose much
of their onward motion in the winding passages of the
small tissues through which they pass, inasmuch as
they have the power to push on the smaller ones
among them, and so transfer it to them ; but that
these smaller ones cannot in the same way lose their
own, inasmuch as it is even increased by that which
the larger transfer to them, and there are no other
bodies around them to which they can so easily trans-
fer it.
Whence it is easy to conceive that, when the larger
ones mount straight toward the exterior surface of
the brain, where they serve for the nourishment of its
substance, they cause the smaller and more rapidly
moving particles all to turn aside and enter into this
gland, which is to be conceived of as a very copious
fountain, whence they flow on all sides at once into
the cavities of the brain ; and thus, with no other prep-
aration or change, except that they are separated
from the larger, and that they still retain the extreme
swiftness which the heat of the heart has imparted to
them, they cease to have the form of blood and are
called the animal spirits.
Now, in proportion as these spirits enter thus the
cavities of the brain, they pass thence into the pores
of its substance, and from these pores into the nerves ;
278 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART IV
where, according as they enter, or even only as they
tend to enter, more or less into some rather than into
others, they have the power to change the form of the
muscles into which their nerves are inserted and by
this means to cause all the limbs to move ; just as
you may have seen in grottoes and fountains in the
royal gardens that the force alone with which the
water moves, in passing from the spring, is enough to
move various machines, and even to make them play
on instruments, or utter words, according to the dif-
ferent arrangement of the pipes which conduct it.
And, indeed, the nerves of the machine that I am
describing to you may very well be compared to the
pipes of the machinery of these fountains, its muscles
and its tendons to various other engines and devices
which serve to move them, its animal spirits to the
water which sets them in motion, of which the heart is
the spring, and the cavities of the brain the outlets.
Moreover, respiration and other such functions as are
natural and usual to it, and which depend on the
course of the spirits, are like the movements of a clock
or a mill, which the regular flow of the water can keep
up. External objects which, by their presence alone,
act upon the organs of its senses, and which by this
means determine it to move in many different ways,
according as the particles of its brain are arranged,
are like visitors who, entering some of the grottoes of
these fountains, bring about of themselves, without in-
tending it, the movements which occur in their pres-
ence ; for they cannot enter without stepping on
certain tiles of the pavement so arranged that, for ex-
ample, if they approach a Diana taking a bath, they
make her hide in the reeds ; and, if they pass on in
pursuit of her, they cause a Neptune to appear before
PHYSIOLOGY] THE TRACT ON MAN. 279
them, who menaces them with his trident ; or if they
turn in some other direction they will make a marine
monster come out, who will squirt water into their
faces, or something similar will happen, according to
the fancy of the engineers who construct them. And
finally, when the reasonable soul shall be in this ma-
chine, it will have its principal seat in the brain,
and it will be there like the fountain-maker, who
must be at the openings where all the pipes of
these machines discharge themselves, if he wishes to
start, to stop, or to change in any way their move-
ments.* ....
I desire you to consider next that all the functions
which I have attributed to this machine, such as the
digestion of food, the beating of the heart and arteries,
the nourishment and growth of the members, respira-
tion, waking, and sleeping ; the impressions of light,
sounds, odors, tastes, heat, and other such qualities
on the organs of the external senses ; the impression
of their ideas on the common sensef and the imagina-
tion ; the retention or imprinting of these ideas upon
the memory ; the interior motions of the appetites
and passions ; and, finally, the external movements of
all the members, which follow so suitably as well the
actions of objects which present themselves to sense,
as the passions and impressions which are found in
the memory, that they imitate in the most perfect
manner possible those of a real man ; I desire, I say,
that you consider that all these functions follow natu-
rally in this machine simply from the arrangement
of its parts, no more nor less than do the movements
* What intervenes is illustrated by diagrams and is therefore
omitted here.
f Sensus communis.
200 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART IV
of a clock,* or other automata, from that of its
weights and its wheels; so that it is not at all necessary
for their explanation to conceive in it any other soul,
vegetative or sensitive, nor any other principle of mo-
tion and life, than its blood and its spirits, set in
motion by the heat of the fire which burns continually
in its heart, and which is of a nature no different from
all fires in inanimate bodies.
* Apparently the first suggestion of the comparison afterward
employed by Bontekoe(?) and by Leibnitz. See above, pp. 26
and 31.
AUTOMATISM OF BRUTES.
Letter to the Marquis of Newcastle*
.... As for the understanding or thought attrib-
uted by Montaigne and others to brutes, I cannot hold
their opinion ; not, however, because I am doubtful of
the truth of what is commonly said, that men have abso-
lute dominion over all the other animals ; for while I
allow that there are some which are stronger than we
are, and I believe there may be some, also, which have
natural cunning capable of deceiving the most saga-
cious men ; yet I consider that they imitate or sur-
pass us only in those of our actions which are not
directed by thought ; for it often happens that we
walk and that we eat without thinking at all upon
what we are doing ; and it is so much without the
-use of our reason that we repel things which harm
us, and ward off blows struck at us, that, although we
might fully determine not to put our hands before our
heads when falling, we could not help doing so. I
believe, also, that we should eat as the brutes do, with-
out having learned how, if we had no power of thought
at all ; and it is said that those who walk in their
sleep sometimes swim across rivers, where, had they
been awake, they would have been drowned.
As for the movements of our passions, although in
ourselves they are accompanied with thought, because
we possess that faculty, it is, nevertheless, very evident
that they do not depend upon it, because they often
* CEuvres, t. ix, p. 423.
281
282 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART IV
arise in spite of us, and, consequently, they may exist
in brutes, and even be more violent than they are in
men, without warranting the conclusion that brutes
can think ; in fine there is no one of our external ac-
tions which can assure those who examine them that
our body is anything more than a machine which
moves of itself, but which also has in it a mind which
thinks excepting words, or other signs made in re-
gard to whatever subjects present themselves, without
reference to any passion. I say words or other signs,
because mutes make use of signs in the same way as
we do of the voice, and these signs are pertinent ; but
I exclude the talking of parrots, but not that of the
insane, which may be apropos to the case in hand,
although it is irrational ; and I add that these words or
signs are not to relate to any passion, in order to ex-
clude, not only cries of joy or pain and the like, but,
also, all that can be taught to any animal by art ; for if
a magpie be taught to say " good- morning " to its mis-
tress when it sees her coming, it may be that the
utterance of these words is associated with the excite-
ment of some one of its passions ; for instance, there
will be a stir of expectation of something to eat, if it
has been the custom of the mistress to give it some
dainty bit when it spoke those words ; and in like
manner all those things which dogs, horses, and mon-
keys are made to do are merely motions of their fear,
their hope, or their joy, so that they might do them
without any thought at all.
Now, it seems to me very remarkable that language,
as thus defined, belongs to man alone ; for although
Montaigne and Charron have said that there is more
difference between one man and another than be-
tween a man and a brute, nevertheless there has
PHYSIOLOGY] AUTOMATISM OP BRUTES. 283
never yet been found a brute so perfect that it has
made use of a sign to inform other animals of some-
thing which had no relation to their passions ; while
there is no man so imperfect as not to use such signs ;
so that the deaf and dumb invent particular signs by
which they express their thoughts, which seems to me
a very strong argument to prove that the reason why
brutes do not talk as we do is that they have no faculty
of thought, and not at all that the organs for it are
wanting. And it cannot be said that they talk among
themselves, but we do not understand them ; for, as
dogs and other animals express to us their passions,
they would express to us as well their thoughts, if they
had them. I know, indeed, that brutes do many
things better than we do, but I am not surprised at it;
for that, also, goes to prove that they act by force of
nature and by springs, like a clock, which tells better
what the hour is than our judgment can inform us.
Andy doubtless, when swallows come in the spring,
they act in that like clocks. All that honey-bees do
is of the same nature ; and the order that cranes keep
in flying, or monkeys drawn up for battle, if it be true
that they do observe any order, and, finally, the in-
stinct of burying their dead is no more surprising than
that of dogs and cats, which scratch the ground to
bury their excrements, although they almost never do
bury them, which shows that they do it by instinct
only, and not by thought. It can only be said that,
although the brutes do nothing which can convince
us that they think, nevertheless, because their bodily
organs are not very different from ours, we might
conjecture that there was some faculty of thought
joined to these organs, as we experience in ourselves,
although theirs be much less perfect, to which I have
284 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART IV
nothing to reply, except that, if they could think as
we do, they would have an immortal soul as well as
we,* which is not likely, because there is no reason
for believing it of some animals without believing it
of all, and there are many of them too imperfect to
make it possible to believe it of them, such as oysters,
sponges, etc.
Letter to Henry Afore, 1649.!
.... But the greatest of all the prejudices we
have retained from infancy is that of believing that
brutes think. The source of our error comes from
having observed that many of the bodily members
of brutes are not very different from our own in
shape and movements, and from the belief that
our mind is the principle of the motions which
occur in us ; that it imparts motion to the body
and is the cause of our thoughts. Assuming this,
we find no difficulty in believing that there is in
brutes a mind similar to our own ; but having
made the discovery, after thinking well upon it, that
two different principles of our movements are to be
distinguished, the one entirely mechanical and cor-
poreal, which depends solely on the force of the ani-
mal spirits and the configuration of the bodily parts,
and which may be called corporeal soul, and the other
incorporeal, that is to say, mind or soul, which you
may define a substance which thinks, I have inquired
with great care whether the motions of animals pro-
ceed from these two principles or from one alone.
Now, having clearly perceived that they can proceed
from one only, I have held it demonstrated tha we
are not able in any manner to prove that there is in
* Cf. Butler's Analogy, Pt. i, chap. i.
f (Euvrt.t, t. x, p. 204.
PHYSIOLOGY] AUTOMATISM OF BRUTES. 285
the animals*a soul which thinks. I am not at all dis-
turbed in my opinion by those doublings and cunning
tricks of dogs and foxes, nor by all those things which
animals do, either from fear, or to get something to
eat, or just for sport. I engage to explain all that
very easily, merely by the conformation of the parts of
the animals. Nevertheless, although I regard it as a
thing demonstrated that it cannot be proved that the
brutes have thought, I do not think that it can be
demonstrated that the contrary is not true, because
the human mind cannot penetrate into the heart to
know what goes on there ; but, on examining into
the probabilities of the case, I see no reason whatever
to prove that brutes think, if it be not that having
eyes, ears, a tongue, and other organs of sense like
ours, it is likely that they have sensations as we do,
and, as thought is involved in the sensations which
we have, a similar faculty of thought must be at-
tributed to them. Now, since this argument is within
the reach of everyone's capacity, it has held posses-
sion of all minds from infancy. But there are other
stronger and more numerous arguments for the op-
posite opinion, which do not so readily present them-
selves to everybody's mind ; as, for example, that it
is more reasonable to make earth-worms, flies, cater-
pillars, and the rest of the animals, move as machines
do, than to endow them with immortal souls.
Because it is certain that in the body of animals, as
in ours, there are bones, nerves, muscles, blood, ani-
mal spirits, and other organs, disposed in such a man-
ner that they can produce of themselves, without the
aid of any thought, all the movements which we ob-
serve in the animals, as appears in convulsive move-
ments, when, in spite of the mind itself, the machine
286 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART IV
of the body moves often with greater violence, and
in more various ways than it is wont to do with the
aid of the will ; moreover, inasmuch as it is agreeable
to reason that art should imitate nature, and that men
should be able to construct divers automata in which
there is movement without any thought, nature, on
her part, might produce these automata, and far more
excellent ones, as the brutes are, than those which
come from the hand of man, seeing no reason any-
where why thought is to be found wherever we per-
ceive a conformation of bodily members like that of
the animals, and that it is more surprising that there
should be a soul in every human body than that there
should be none at all in the brutes.
But the principal argument, to my mind, which
may convince us that the brutes are devoid of reason,
is that, although among those of the same species,
some are more perfect than others, as among men,
which is particularly noticeable in horses and dogs,
some of which have more capacity than others to re-
tain what is taught them, and although all of them
make us clearly understand their natural movements
of anger, of fear, of hunger, and others of like kind,
either by the voice or by other bodily motions, it has
never yet been observed that any animal has arrived
at such a degree of perfection as to make use of a true
language ; that is to say, as to be able to indicate to us
by the voice, or by other signs, anything which could be
referred to thought alone, rather than to a movement
of mere nature ; for the word is the sole sign and the
only certain mark of the presence of thought hidden
and wrapped up in the body ; now all men, the most
stupid and the most foolish, those even who are de-
prived of the organs of speech, make use of signs,
PHYSIOLOGY] AUTOMATISM OF BRUTES. 287
whereas the brutes never do anything of the kind ;
which may be taken for the true distinction between
man and brute. I omit, for the sake of brevity, the
other arguments which deny thought to the brutes.
It must, however, be observed that I speak of
thought, not of life, nor of sensation ; for I do not
deny the life of any animal, making it to consist solely
in the warmth of the heart. I do not refuse to them
feeling even, in so far as it depends only on the
bodily organs. Thus, my opinion is not so cruel to
animals as it is favorable to men ; I speak to those who
are not committed to the extravagances of Pythag-
oras, which attached to those who ate or killed them
the suspicion even of a crime
Letter to Mersenne, July 30, 1640.*
As for the brute beasts, we are so accustomed to
persuade ourselves that they feel just as we do, that it
is difficult to rid ourselves of this opinion ; but, if we
were also accustomed to see automata which should
imitate perfectly all those of our actions which they
could imitate and remain automata, we should have
no doubt whatever that all animals without reason are
also automata, because we should find just the same
differences between ourselves and them as between
ourselves and automata, as I have written on page 56 \
of the Method ; and I have very particularly shown
in my World J how all the organs which are required
to produce all those actions which occur in automata
are found in the bodies of animals.
* (Euvres, t. viii, p. 299.
t OEuvrcs, t. i, p. 184; Veitch's Descartes, page 54.
\ In the part not published.
SELECTIONS FROM THE PASSIONS OF
THE SOUL.
THE PASSIONS OF THE SOUL.*
PART I.
ARTICLE I.
Passion, as respects the subject, is always action in
some other respect,
THERE is nothing which better shows how defect-
ive the sciences are which we have received from the
ancients than what they have written upon the pas-
sions ; for, although it is a subject the knowledge of
which has always been much sought after, and which
does not appear to be one of the more difficult
sciences, because everyone, feeling the passions in
himself, stands in no need whatever of borrowing any
observation elsewhere to discover their nature, never-
theless, what the ancients have taught on this sub-
ject is of so little consequence, and for the most part
so untrustworthy, that I cannot have any hope of
reaching the truth, except by abandoning the paths
which they have followed. That is the reason why I
shall be obliged to write now in the same way as I
should if I were treating a topic which no one before
me had ever touched upon ; and, to begin with, I take
into consideration the fact that an event is generally
spoken of by philosophers as a passion as regards
the subject to which it happens, and an action in re-
spect to that which causes it ; so that, although the
agent and the patient may often be very different,
* CEuvres, t. iv, p. 37, seq.
291
292 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PARTY
action and passion are always one and the same
thing, which has these two names because of the two
different subjects to which it can be referred.
ARTICLE II.
In order to understand the passions of the soul, it is
necessary to distinguish its functions from those of the
body.
Next I take into consideration that we know of no
subject which acts more immediately upon our soul
than the body to which it is joined, and that con-
sequently we must think that what in the one is a pas-
sion is commonly in the other an action ; so that
there is no better path to the knowledge of our pas-
sions than to examine into the difference between the
soul and the body, in order to know to which of them
is to be attributed each of our functions.
ARTICLE III.
The rule to be observed to this end.
No great difficulty will be found in this, if it be
borne in mind that all that which we experience in
ourselves which we see can also take place in bodies
entirely inanimate is to be attributed only to our
body ; and, on the contrary, all that which is in us
and which we cannot conceive in any manner possible
to pertain to a body is to be attributed to our soul.*
*"This utter disanimation of Body and its, not opposition, but
contrariety, sicuti omnino heterogeneum, to soul, as the assumed
Basis of Thought and Will ; this substitution, I say, of a merely
logical negatio alterius in otnni et singulo, for a philosophic an-
tithesis necessary to the manifestation of the identity of both
2=1 as the only form in which the human understanding can re-
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 293
ARTICLE IV.
Thai heat and the movement of the limbs proceed
from the body, thoughts from the mind.
Thus, because we cannot conceive that the body
thinks in any manner whatever, we have no reason
but to think that all forms of thought which are in us
belong to the mind ; and because we cannot doubt
that there are inanimate bodies which can move in as
many or more different ways than ours, and which
have as much or more heat (as experience teaches us
in the case of flame, which alone has more heat and
motion than any of our members), we must believe
that all the heat and all the motions which are in us,
in so far as they do not depend at all on thought, be-
long only to the body.
ARTICLE V.
That it is an error to think that the soul imparts motion
and heat to the body.
By this means we shall avoid a very great error,
into which many have fallen, an error which I con-
sider to be the principal hindrance, up to the present
time, to a correct explanation of the passions and other
properties of the soul. It consists in this, that, seeing
that all dead bodies are deprived of heat and, conse-
quently, of motion, it is imagined that the absence of
the soul causes these movements and this heat to
cease ; and thus it has been thought, without reason,
present to itself the 1=2, isthepfccatuw originalt of the Cartesian
system. "
Marginal jotting by Coleridge in a copy of Descartes' Opera
Philosophica, once owned by him, and now in the library of the
University of Vermont.
294 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
that our natural heat and all the motions of our body
depend upon the soul ; instead of which it should be
thought, on the contrary, that soul departs, when
death occurs, only because this heat fails and the
organs which serve to move the body decay.
ARTICLE VI.
The difference between a living and a dead body.
In order, then, that we may avoid this error, let us
consider that death never takes place through the ab-
sence of a soul, but solely because some one of the
principal parts of the body has fallen into decay ; and
let us conclude that the body of a living man differs
as much from that of a dead man as does a watch or
other automaton (that is to say, or other machine
which moves of itself), when it is wound up, and has
within itself the material principle of the movements
for which it is constructed, with all that is necessary
for its action, from the same watch or other machine,
when it has been broken, and the principle of its
movement ceases to act.
ARTICLE VII.
Brief explanation of the parts of the body and of some
of its functions*
In order to render this more intelligible, I will ex-
plain here in a few words how the entire mechanism
of our body is composed. There is no one who does
not already know that there is in us a heart, a brain,
a stomach, muscles, nerves, arteries, veins, and such
things ; it is known also that the food we eat descends
* Cf. Discourse on Method, pt. v. (CEtwres, t. i, p. 173); Veitch,
p. 46.
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 295
into the stomach and the bowels, where their juices,
flowing through the liver and through all the veins, mix
themselves with the blood they contain, and by this
means increase its quantity. Those who have heard the
least talk in medicine know, further, how the heart is
constructed, and how all the blood of the veins can
easily flow through the vena cava on its right side,
and thence pass into the lung, by the vessel which is
called the arterial vein, then return from the lung on
the left side of the heart, by the vessel called the
venous artery, and finally pass thence into the great
artery, the branches of which are diffused through the
whole body. Also, all those whom the authority of
the ancients has not entirely blinded, and who are
willing to open their eyes to examine the opinion
of Hervoeus * in regard to the circulation of the blood,
have no doubt whatever that all the veins and arteries
of the body are merely channels through which the
blood flows without cessation and very rapidly, start-
ing from the right cavity of the heart by the arterial
vein, the branches of which are dispersed throughout
the lungs and joined to that of the venous artery, by
which it passes from the lungs into the left side of the
heart ; next, from thence it passes into the great
artery, the branches of which, scattered throughout
all the rest, of the body, are joined to the branches of
the vein, which carry once more the same blood into
the right cavity of the heart ; so that these two
cavities are like sluices, through each of which all the
blood passes every time it makes the circuit of the
body. Still further, it is known that all the move-
ments of the limbs depend upon the muscles, and that
these muscles are opposed to one another in such a
* Harvey. See tribute to Harvey, CEuvres, t. ix, p. 361.
296 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
way that, when one of them contracts, it draws toward
itself the part of the body to which it is attached,
which at the same time stretches out the muscle which
is opposed to it ; then, if it happens, at another time,
that this last contracts, it causes the first to lengthen,
and draws toward itself the part to which they are
attached. Finally, it is known that all these move-
ments of the muscles, as also all the senses, depend
upon the nerves, which are like minute threads, or
small tubes, all of which come from the brain, and
contain, like that, a certain subtle air or breath, which
is called the animal spirits.
ARTICLE VIII.
The principle of all these functions.
But it is not commonly known in what manner
these animal spirits and these nerves contribute to
the movements of the limbs and to the senses, nor
what is the corporeal principle which makes them
act ; it is for this reason, although I have already
touched upon this matter in other writings,* I shall not
omit to say here briefly, that, as long as we live, there
is a continual heat in our heart, which is a kind of
fire kept up there by the blood of the veins, and that
this fire is the corporeal principle of the movements of
our limbs
ARTICLE XVI.
How all the limbs can be moved by the objects of the
senses and by the spirits without the aid of the soul.
Finally, it is to be observed that the machine of
our body is so constructed that all the changes which
* On Man, see above p. 280; also Discourse, etc.; Veitch, p. 52.
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 297
occur in the motion of the spirits may cause them to
open certain pores of the brain rather than others,
and, reciprocally, that when any one of these pores is
opened in the least degree more or less than is usual
by the action of the nerves which serve the senses,
this changes somewhat the motion of the spirits,
and causes them to be conducted into the mus-
cles which serve to move the body in the way
in which it is commonly moved on occasion of such
action ; so that all the movements which we make
without our will contributing thereto (as frequently
happens when we breathe, or walk, or eat, and, in fine,
perform all those actions which are common to us and
the brutes) depend only on the conformation of our
limbs and the course which the spirits, excited by the
heat of the heart, naturally follow in the brain, in the
nerves, and in the muscles, in the same way that the
movement of a watch is produced by the force solely
of its mainspring and the form of its wheels.* ....
ARTICLE XXX.
That the soul is united to all parts of the body con-
jointly.
But, in order to understand all these things more
perfectly, it is necessary to know that the soul is truly
joined to the entire body, and that it cannot properly
be said to be in any one of its parts to the exclusion
of the rest, because the body is one, and in a manner
* " Can the Bruckers and the German Manualists have read this
work of Descartes which yet was his most popular treatise that
they should (one, I guess, copying from the other) talk of Spi-
noza's having given Leibnitz the hint of his pre-established Har-
mony ? What is this XVIth Article, if not a clear and distinct
statement of this theory ?" Marginal note by Coleridge.
298 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
indivisible, on account of the arrangement of its
organs, which are so related to one another, that when
any one of them is taken away, that makes the whole
body defective : and because the soul is of a nature
which has no relation to extension, or to dimensions,
or other properties of the matter of which the body is
composed, but solely to the whole collection of its
organs, as appears from the fact that we cannot at all
conceive of the half or the third of a soul, nor what
space it occupies, and that it does not become any
smaller when any part of the body is cut off, but that
it separates itself entirely from it when the combina-
tion of its organs is broken up.
ARTICLE XXXI.
That there is a small gland in the brain in which
the soul exercises its functions more particularly than
in the other parts.
It is, also, necessary to know that, although the soul
is joined to the entire body, there is, nevertheless, a
certain part of the body in which it exercises its func-
tions more particularly than in all the rest ; and it is
commonly thought that this part is the brain, or, per-
haps, the heart : the brain, because to it the organs of
sense are related ; and the heart, because it is as if
there the passions are felt. But, after careful exami-
nation, it seems to me quite evident that the part of
the body in which the soul immediately exercises its
functions is neither the heart, nor even the brain as a
whole, but solely the most interior part of it, which is
a certain very small gland, situated in the middle of its
substance, and so suspended above the passage by
which the spirits of its anterior cavities communicate
with those of the posterior/that the slightest motions
in it may greatly affect the course of these spirits,
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 299
and, reciprocally, that the slightest changes which
take place in the course of the spirits may greatly
affect the motions of this gland.
ARTICLE XXXII.
How this gland is known to be the principal seat of
the soul.
The reason which convinces me that the soul can-
not have in the whole body any other place than this
gland where it exercises its functions immediately, is
the consideration that the other parts of our brain are
all double, just as also we have two eyes, two hands,
two ears, and, in fine, all the organs of our external
senses are double ; and inasmuch as we have but
one single and simple thought of the same thing at the
same time, there must necessarily be some place where
the two images which by means of the two eyes, or
the two other impressions which come from a single
object by means of the double organs of the other
senses, may unite in one before they reach the mind,
in order that they may not present to it two objects in
place of one ; and it may easily be conceived that
these images or other impressions unite in this
gland, through the medium of the spirits which fill
the cavities of the brain ; but there is no other place
whatever in the whole body, where they can thus be
united, except as they have first been united in this
gland.
{Letter to Mersenne, July 30, 1640.*
As for the letter of the physician De Sens, it con-
tains no argument to impugn what I have written upon
the gland called conarium, except that he says that it
can be changed like all the brain, which does not at
all prevent its being the principal seat of the soul ;
*CEuvres, t. viii, p. 301.
300 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
for it is certain that the soul must be joined to some
part of the body, and there is no point which is not as
much or more liable to alteration than this gland,
which, although it is very small and very soft,
nevertheless, on account of its situation, is so well
protected, that it can be almost as little subject to
any disease as the crystalline humor of the eye ;
and it happens more frequently indeed that persons
become troubled in mind, without any known cause,
in which case it may be assigned to some disorder of
this gland, than it happens that sight fails by any de-
fect of this crystalline humor, besides that all the
other changes which happen to the mind, as when one
falls asleep after drinking, etc., may be ascribed to
some changes occurring in this gland.
As for what he says about the mind's being able to
make use of double organs, I agree with him, and that
it makes use also of the spirits, all of which cannot
reside in this gland ; but I do not at all conceive that
the mind is so restricted to it that it cannot extend
its activity beyond it ; but it is one thing to make use
of, and another thing to be immediately joined and
united to it ; and our mind not being double, but
one and indivisible, it seems to me that the part of the
body to which it is most immediately united must
also be one and not divided into two similar parts,
and I find nothing of that kind in the whole brain
except this gland.*
* It is needless to say that modern physiology fails to confirm
the view of Descartes concerning the pineal gland as the seat of
the soul. " Its nervous nature is doubtful, and its function in man
obscure or absent, but it is constant among vertebrates, and in sev-
eral, especially lizards, it is connected with a more or less rudi-
mentary eye in the middle of the top of the head." Foster's
Medical Dictionary, p. 1724.]
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 301
ARTICLE XXXIII.
That the seat of the passions is not in the heart.
As for the opinion of those who think that the soul
experiences its passions in the heart, it is of no great
account, because it is founded only on the fact that
the passions cause some stir to be felt there ; and it
is easy to see that this change is felt, as if in the
heart, only through the medium of a small nerve,
which descends to it from the brain, just as pain is
felt as if in the foot through the medium of the nerves
of the foot, and the stars are perceived as in the
heavens by the medium of their light and the optic
nerves ; so that it is no more necessary that our soul
exercise its functions immediately in the heart in
order to feel there its passions, than it is necessary
that it should be in the heavens in order to see the
stars there.
ARTICLE XXXIV.
How the soul and the body act one upon the other.
Let us conceive, then, that the soul has its principal
seat in this little gland in the middle of the brain,
whence it radiates to all the rest of the body by
means of the spirits, the nerves, and even of the blood,
which, participating in the impressions of the mind,
can carry them by means of the arteries into all the
members ; and, bearing in mind what has been said
above concerning the machine of our body, to wit,
that the minute filaments of our nerves are so dis-
tributed throughout all its parts that, on occasion of
the different motions which are excited there by
means of sensible objects, they open in divers manners
the pores of the brain, which causes the animal spirits
contained in these cavities to enter in various ways
302 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
into the muscles, by means of which they can move
the limbs in all the different ways of which they are
capable, and, also, that all the other causes, which in
other ways can set the spirits in motion, have the
effect to turn them upon various muscles [keeping
all this in mind], let us add here that the little gland
which is the principal seat of the soul is so suspended
between the cavities which contain the spirits, that it
can be affected by them in all the different ways that
there are sensible differences in objects ; but that it
can also be variously affected by the soul, which is of
such a nature that it receives as many different im-
pressions that is to say, that it has as many different
perceptions as there occur different motions in this
gland ; as also, reciprocally, the machine of the body
is so composed that from the simple fact that this
gland is variously affected by the soul, or by what-
ever other cause, it impels the spirits which surround
it toward the pores of the brain, which discharge
them by means of the nerves upon the muscles,
whereby it causes them to move the limbs
ARTICLE XL.
The principal effect of the passions.
It is to be noted that the principal effect of all the
passions in man is that they incite and dispose the
mind to will the things to which they prepare the
body, so that the sentiment of fear incites it to will to
fly ; that of courage, to will to fight ; and so of the rest.
ARTICLE XLI.
The power of the mind over the body.
But the will is so free in its nature that it can
never be constrained ; and of the two kinds of
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 303
thoughts which I have distinguished in the mind of
which one is its actions, that is, its volitions ; the
other its passions, taking this word in its most general
signification, comprehending all sorts of perceptions
the first of these are absolutely in its power, and can
be changed only indirectly by the body, while, on the
contrary, the last depend absolutely on the movements
which give rise to them, and they can be affected
only indirectly by the mind, except when it is itself
the cause of them. And the whole action of the
mind consists in this, that by the simple fact of its
willing anything it causes the little gland, to which it
is closely joined, to produce the result appropriate to
the volition.
ARTICLE XLII.
How the things we wish to recall are found in the
memory.
Thus, when the mind wills to recall anything, this
volition causes the gland, by inclining successively to
different sides, to impel the spirits toward different
parts of the brain, until they come upon that where
the traces are left of the thing it wills to remember ;
for these traces are due to nothing else than the
circumstance that the pores of the brain, through
which the spirits have already taken their course, on
presentation of that object, have thereby acquired a
greater facility than the rest to be opened again in
the same way by the spirits which come to them ; so
that these spirits coming upon these pores, enter
therein more readily than into the others, by which
means they excite a particular motion in the gland,
which represents to the mind the same object, and
causes it to recognize that it is that which it willed to
remember.
304 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PARTY
ARTICLE XLIII.
How the mind can imagine, attend, and move the body.
Thus, when it is desired to imagine something
which has never been seen, the will has the power to
cause the gland to move in the manner requisite to
impel the spirits toward the pores of the brain by the
opening of which that thing can be represented ; so,
when one wills to keep his attention fixed for some
time upon the same object, this volition keeps the
gland inclined during that time in the same direc-
tion ; so, finally, when one wills to walk or to move his
body in any way, this volition causes the gland to
impel the spirits toward the muscles which serve that
purpose.
ARTICLE XLIV.
That each volition is naturally connected with some
motion of the gland, but that, by intention or by habit,
the will may be connected with others.
Nevertheless, it is not always the volition to excite
within us a certain motion, or other effect, which is
the cause of its being excited ; but this varies accord-
ing as nature or habit has 'variously united each
motion of the gland to each thought. Thus, for ex-
ample, if one desires to adjust his eyes to look at a
very distant object, this volition causes the pupil of
the eye to expand, and if he desires to adjust them so
as to see an object very near, this volition makes it
contract ; but if he simply thinks of expanding the
pupil, he wills in vain the pupil will not expand for
that, inasmuch as nature has not connected the mo-
tion of the gland, which serves to impel the spirits
toward the optic nerve in the manner requisite for
expanding or contracting the pupil, with the volition
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 305
to expand or contract, but with that of looking at
objects distant or near. And when, in talking, we
think only of the meaning of what we wish to say,
that makes us move the tongue and lips much more
rapidly and better than if we thought to move them
in all ways requisite for the utterance of the same
words, inasmuch as the habit we have acquired in
learning to talk has made us join the action of the
mind which, through the medium of the gland, can
move the tongue and the lips with the meaning of
the words which follow these motions rather than
with the motions themselves
ARTICLE XLVII.
Wherein consist the conflicts which are imagined to
exist between the inferior and the superior parts of the
soul.
It is only in the opposition between the motions that
the body through the spirits, and the soul through the
will, tend to excite at the same time in the gland,
that all the conflicts consist which are commonly im-
agined to arise between the inferior part of the soul,
which is called sensitive, and the superior part, which
is rational, or rather between the natural appetites and
the will ; for there is but one soul within us, and that
soul has in it no diversity of parts whatever ; the
same which is sensitive is rational, and all its appe-
tites are volitions. The error which is committed
in making it play the parts of different persons com-
monly opposed to each other arises only from the
want of a right distinction of its functions from those
of the body, to which is to be attributed all that which
may be observed within us to be hostile to our reason,
306 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
so that there is in this no other conflict whatever,
except that the little gland which is in the middle of
the brain may be pushed on the one side by the soul
and on the other by the animal spirits, which are only
corporeal, as I have said above, and it often happens
that these two impulses are contrary, and the stronger
hinders the effect of the other. Now there may be
distinguished two kinds of motion excited by the
spirits in the gland ; the one represents to the soul
the objects which move the senses, or the impressions
which meet in the brain, and produce no effect upon
the will ; the other kind is those which produce some
effect upon it, namely, those which cause the passions
or the movements of the body which accompany
them ; and as for the first, although they often hinder
the actions of the soul, or perhaps may be hindered
by them, nevertheless, because they are not directly
opposed, no conflict is observed
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 307
PART II.
ARTICLE LI.
The primary causes of the passions.
IT is understood, from what has been said above, that
the last and proximate cause of the passions of the
soul is nothing but the motion imparted by the spirits
to the little gland in the middle of the brain. But this
is not enough to enable us to distinguish them from
one another ; it is necessary to trace them to their
sources and to inquire into their primary causes ; now,
although they may sometimes be caused by the action
of the mind, which determines to think upon such or
such objects, and also by the mere bodily tempera-
ment or by the impressions which happen to present
themselves in the brain, as occurs when one feels sad
or joyous without being able to assign any reason for
it, it should appear, nevertheless, according to what
has been said, that the same passions may all be ex-
cited by objects which move the senses, and that
these objects are their most ordinary and principal
causes ; whence it follows that, to discover them all,
it is sufficient to consider all the effects of these
objects.
ARTICLE LII.
What service they render, and how their number may
be determined.
I observe, further, that the objects which move the
senses do not excite in us different passions by reason
of all the diversities which are in them, but solely on
308 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
account of the different ways in which they can injure
or profit us, or, in general, be important to us ; and
that the service which all the passions render consists
in this alone, that they dispose the mind to choose
the things which nature teaches us are useful, and to
persist in this choice, while also the same motion of
the spirits which commonly causes them disposes the
body to the movements which serve to the perform-
ance of those things ; this is why, in order to deter-
mine the number of the passions, it is necessary
merely to inquire, in due order, how many different
ways important to us there are in which our senses
can be moved by their objects ; and I shall here make
the enumeration of all the principal passions in the
order in which they may thus be found.
ARTICLE LIII.
Wonder.
When on first meeting an object we are surprised,
and judge it to be novel, or very different from what
we knew it before, or from what we supposed it should
be, this causes us to wonder at it and be astonished ;
and since this may happen before we could know
whether this object was beneficial to us or not, it seems
to me that wonder is the first of all the passions ; and
it has no contrary, because, if the object which pre-
sents itself has nothing in it which surprises us, we
are not at all moved by it, and we regard it without
emotion.
ARTICLE LXVIII.
Why this enumeration of the passions differs from
that commonly received.
Such is the order which seems to me the best in
enumerating the passions, I know very well that in
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 309
this my position is different from that of all who have
hitherto written upon them, but it is so not without
important reason. For they derive their enumeration
from their distinction in the sensitive part of the soul
of two appetites, one of which they call eoncupisdble,
the other irascible* And, inasmuch as I recognize in
the soul no distinction of parts, as I have said above,
this seems to me to signify nothing else but that it has
two faculties : one of desiring, the other of being
angry ; and because it has in the same way the facul-
ties of admiring, of loving, of hoping, of fearing, and
of entertaining each of the other passions, or of per-
forming the actions to which these passions incline it,
I do not see why they have chosen to refer all to de-
sire or to anger. Moreover, their enumeration does
not include all the principal passions, as I believe this
does. I speak only of the principal ones, because
there may still be distinguished many other more
special ones, and their number is indefinite.
ARTICLE LXIX.
That there are only six primary passions.
But the number of those which are simple and
primary is not very great. For, on reviewing all those
which I have enumerated, it is readily observed that
there are only six of this sort ; to wit, wonder, love,
hate, desire, joy, and sadness, and that all the rest are
made up of some of these six, or at least are species
of them. This is why, in order that their number
may not embarrass my readers, I shall here treat
separately of the six primaries ; and afterward I
shall show how all the rest derive their origin from
these.
* Plato, Republic, bk. iv.
310 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
ARTICLE LXXIV.
In what respect the passions are of service and in what
they are harmful.
Now it is easy to see, from what has been said
above, that the usefulness of all the passions consists
only in this, that they strengthen and make enduring
in the mind the thoughts which it is well for it to
keep, and which but for that might easily be effaced
from it. As, also, all the evil they can cause consists
in their strengthening and preserving those thoughts
in the mind more than there is any need of, or else
that they strengthen and preserve others which it is
not well for the mind to attend to.
ARTICLE LXXIX.
Definitions of love and hatred.
Love is an emotion of the soul, caused by the mo-
tion of the spirits, which incites it to unite itself volun-
tarily to those objects which appear to it to be agree-
able. And hatred is an emotion, caused by the spirits,
which incites the mind to will to be separated from
objects which present themselves to it as harmful. I
say that these emotions are caused by the spirits,
in order to distinguish love and hatred, which are
passions, and depend upon the body, as well as the
judgments which also incline the mind to unite itself
voluntarily with the things which it regards as good,
and to separate itself from those which it regards as
evil, as the emotions which these judgments excite in
the soul.
ARTICLE LXXX.
What is meant by voluntary union and separation.
For the rest, by the word voluntarily, I do not here
intend desire, which is a passion by Itself, and relates
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 311
to the future, but the consent wherein one considers
himself for the moment as united with the beloved
object, conceiving as it were of one whole of which
he thinks himself but one part, and the object beloved
the other. While on the contrary, in the case of
hatred, one considers himself alone as a whole,
entirely separated from the object for which he has
aversion.
ARTICLE LXXXVI.
Definition of desire.
The passion of desire is an agitation of the soul,
caused by the spirits, which disposes it to wish for
the future the objects which it represents to itself to
be agreeable. Thus one desires not only the presence
of absent good, but also the preservation of the
present good, and, in addition, the absence of evil,
as well that which is already experienced, as that
which it is feared the future may bring.
ARTICLE XCI.
Definition of joy.
Joy is an agreeable emotion of the soul in which
the enjoyment consists which it has in any good that
the impressions of the brain represent to it as its own.
I say that it is in this emotion that the enjoyment of
good consists, for in reality the soul receives no other
fruit of all the goods it possesses ; and so long as it
has no joy in them, it may be said that it has no more
fruition of them than if it did not possess them at all.
I add, also, that it is of good which the impressions of
the brain represent to it as its own, in order not to
confound this joy, which is a passion, with the purely
intellectual joy, which arises in the mind by the simple
312 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
activity of the mind, and which may be said to be an
agreeable emotion excited within itself, in which con-
sists the enjoyment which it has of the good which
its understanding represents to it as its own. It is
true that, so long as the mind is joined to the body,
this intellectual joy can scarcely fail to be accom-
panied with that joy which is passion ; for,"as soon as
our understanding perceives that we possess any good,
although that good may be as different as imaginable
from all that pertains to the body, the imagination
does not fail on the instant to make an impression on
the brain, upon which follows the motion of the spirits
which excites the passion of joy.
ARTICLE XCII.
Definition of sadness,
Sadness is a disagreeable languor, in which consists
the distress which the mind experiences from the evil
or the defect which the impressions of the brain
represent as pertaining to it. And there is also an
intellectual sadness, which is not the passion, but
which seldom fails to be accompanied by it.
ARTICLE XCVI.
The motions of the blood and the spirits which cause
these five passions.
The five passions which I have here begun to ex-
plain are so joined or opposed to one another, that it
is easier to consider them all together than to treat
of each separately (as wonder has been treated) ;
and the cause of them is not as is the case with
wonder, in the brain alone, but also in the heart, the
spleen, the liver, and in all other parts of the body, in
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 313
so far as they serve in the production of the blood,
and thereby of the spirits ; for although all the veins
conduct the blood they contain toward the heart, it
happens, nevertheless, that sometimes the blood in
some of them is impelled thither with more force than
that in others ; it happens, also, that the openings by
which it enters into the heart, or else those by which
it passes out, are more enlarged or more contracted
at one time than at another
ARTICLE CXXXVII.
Of the utility of these five passions here explained, in
so far as they relate to the body.
Having given the definitions of love, of hatred, of
desire, of joy, of sadness (and treated of all the cor-
poreal movements which cause or accompany them*)
we have only to consider here their utility. In regard
to which it is to be noted that, according to the ap-
pointment of nature, they all relate to the body, and
are bestowed upon the mind only in so far as it is
connected with it ; so that their natural use is to
incite the mind to consent and contribute to the
actions which may aid in the preservation of the body,
or render it in any way more perfect ; and, in this
sense, sadness and joy are the first two which are
employed. For the mind is immediately warned of
the things which harm the body only through the
sensation of pain, which produces in it first the pas-
sion of sadness ; next, hatred of that which causes this
pain ; and thirdly, the desire to be delivered from it ;
likewise the mind is made aware immediately of things
useful to the body only by some sort of pleasure,
* In the intervening Articles.
314 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
which excites in it joy, then gives birth to love of that
which is believed to be the cause of it, and, finally, the
desire to acquire that which can make the joy con-
tinue, or else that the like may be enjoyed again.
Whence it is apparent that these five passions are all
very useful as regards the body, and also that sadness
is, in a certain way, first and more necessary than joy,
and hatred than love, because it is more important to
repel things which harm and may destroy us, than to
acquire those which add a perfection without which
we can still subsist.
ARTICLE CXLIV.
Of desires where the issue depends only on ourselves.
But because the passions can impel us to action
only through the medium of the desire which we
must take pains to regulate and in this consists the
principal use of morality ; now, as I have just said, as it
is always good when it follows a true knowledge, so it
cannot fail to be bad when it is based on error. And
it seems to me that the error most commonly com-
mitted in regard to desires is the failure to distinguish
sufficiently the things which depend entirely upon our-
selves and those which do not ; for, as for those which
depend only upon ourselves, that is to say, upon our
free will, it is sufficient to know that they are good to
make it impossible for us to desire them with too
great ardor, since to do the good things which depend
upon ourselves is to follow virtue, and it is certain
that one cannot have too ardent a desire for virtue,
and moreover, it being impossible for us to fail of
success in what we desire in this way, since it depends
on ourselves alone, we shall always attain all the
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 315
satisfaction that we have expected. But the most
common fault in this matter is not that too much, but
too little, is desired ; and the sovereign remedy
against that is to deliver the mind as much as possible
from all other less useful desires, then to try to under-
stand very clearly, and to consider attentively, the
excellence of that which is to be desired.
ARTICLE CXLV.
Of those which depend only on other things.
As for the things which depend in no wise upon
ourselves, however good they may be, they should
never be desired with passion ; not only because they
may not come to pass, and in that case we should be
so much the more cast down, as we have the more
desired them, but principally because by occupying
our thoughts they divert our interest from other
things the acquisition of which depends upon our-
selves. And there are two general remedies for these
vain desires ; the first is high-mindedness (la gene"r-
osite], of which I shall speak presently ; the second is
frequent meditation on Divine Providence, with the re-
flection that it is impossible that anything should hap-
pen in any other manner than has been determined
from all eternity by this Providence ; so that it is like
a destiny or an immutable necessity, which is to be
contrasted with chance in order to destroy it as a
chimera arising only from an error of our under-
standing. For we can desire only those things which
we regard as being in some way possible, and we do
not regard as possible things which do not at all de-
pend upon ourselves, except in so far as we think that
they depend on chance, that is to say, as we judge
316 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
that they can happen, and that similar things have
happened before. Now this opinion is based only on
the fact that we do not know all the causes which have
contributed to each effect ; for when anything which
we have thought depended upon chance has not taken
place, this shows that some one of the causes neces-
sary to produce it was wanting, and, consequently, that
it was absolutely impossible, and the like of it never
took place ; that is to say, to the production of the
like a similar cause was also wanting, so that, had we
not been ignorant of that beforehand, we never
should have thought it possible, and consequently
should not have desired it.
ARTICLE CXLVI.
Of those things which depend upon ourselves and
others.
It is necessary then utterly to reject the common
opinion that there is externally to ourselves a chance
which causes things to happen or not to happen, at
its pleasure, and to know, on the other hand, that
everything is guided by Divine Providence, whose
eternal decree is so infallible and immutable, that, ex-
cepting the things which the same decree has willed
to depend upon our free choice, we must think that in
regard to us nothing happens which is not necessary,
and, as it were, destined, so that we cannot, without
folly, wish it to happen otherwise. But because most
of our desires extend to things, all of which do not
depend upon ourselves, nor all of them upon others,
we should distinguish precisely that in them which de-
pends only on ourselves in order to confine our de-
sires to that; and, moreover, although we should con-
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 317
sider success therein to be altogether a matter of im-
mutable destiny, in order that our desires may not be
taken up with it, we ought not to fail to consider the
reasons which make it more or less to be hoped for, to
the end that they may serve to regulate our conduct ;
as, for example, if we had business in a certain place
to which we might go by two different roads, one of
which was ordinarily much safer than the other, al-
though perhaps the decree of Providence was such
that if we went by the road considered safest we
should certainly be robbed, and that, on the contrary,
we might travel the other with no danger at all, we
ought not on that account to be indifferent in choos-
ing between them, nor rest on the immutable destiny
of that decree ; but reason would have it that we
should choose the road which was ordinarily consid-
ered the safer, and our desire should be satisfied re-
garding that when we have followed it, whatever be
the evil that happens to us, because that evil, being as
regards ourselves inevitable, we have had no reason
to desire to be exempt from it, but simply to do the
very best that our understanding is able to discover,
as I assume we have done. And it is certain that
when one thus makes a practice of distinguishing
destiny from chance, he easily accustoms himself so to
regulate his desires that, in so far as their accomplish-
ment depends only upon himself, they may always
afford him entire satisfaction.
ARTICLE CXLVII.
Of the interior emotions of the mind.
I will simply add a consideration which appears to
me of much service in averting from us the disturb-
318 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [P A RT V
ance of the passions : it is that our good and our evil
principally depend upon the interior emotions, which
are excited in the mind only by the mind itself, in
which respect they differ from its passions, which al-
ways depend upon some motion of the spirits ; and
although these emotions of the mind are often united
with the passions which resemble them, they may
often also agree with others, and even arise from those
which are contrary to them And when we
read of strange adventures in a book, or see them rep-
resented on the stage, this excites in us sometimes
sadness, sometimes joy, or love, or hatred, and, in gen-
eral, all the passions, according to the diversity of
the objects which present themselves to our imagina-
tion ; but along with that we have the pleasure of feel-
ing them excited within us, and this pleasure is an in-
tellectual joy, which can arise from sadness as well as
from any other passion.*
ARTICLE CXLVIII.
That the practice of virtue is a sovereign remedy for
all the passions.
Now, inasmuch as these interior emotions touch us
more nearly, and in consequence have much greater
power over us than the passions from which they
differ, which occur with them, it is certain that, pro-
vided the mind have that within wherewith it may be
content, all the troubles which come from elsewhere
have no power whatever to disturb it, but rather serve
to augment its joy, in that, seeing that it cannot be
troubled by them, it is thereby made aware of its own
superiority. And to the end that the mind may have
that wherewith to be content, it needs but to follow
* Cf. Aristotle, Poetics, 6.
PSYCHOLOGY! PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 319
virtue perfectly. For whoever has lived in such a
manner that his conscience cannot reproach him with
ever having failed to do any of those things which he
has judged to be the best (which is what I call here
following virtue), he enjoys a satisfaction so potent in
ministering to his happiness, that the most violent
efforts of the passions never have power enough to
disturb the tranquillity of his mind.
320 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
PART III.
ARTICLE CXLIX.
Of esteem and contempt.
HAVING explained the six primitive passions, which
are, as it were, genera, of which all the rest are spe-
cies, I will here notice briefly what special ones there
are in each of the others, and will observe the same
order in accordance with which I have enumerated
them above. The first two are esteem and contempt ;
for, although these names ordinarily signify only the
opinion held, without passion, concerning the value of
anything, nevertheless, because from these opinions
there often arise passions to which no particular
names have been given, it seems to me that these may
be assigned to them. And esteem, in so far as it is a
passion, is an inclination which the mind has to rep-
resent to itself the value of the thing esteemed,
which inclination is caused by a particular motion of
the spirits, so converged into the brain as to strengthen
the impressions which relate to this subject ; while,
on the contrary, the passion of contempt is an inclina-
tion which the mind has to dwell upon the baseness
or littleness of that which it despises, caused by the
motion of the spirits which strengthens the idea of
this littleness.
ARTICLE CL.
Thus these two passions are only species of wonder.
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 321
ARTICLE CLI.
Now these two passions may, generally speaking,
relate to all sorts of objects ; but they are chiefly
worthy of attention when they relate to ourselves, that
is to say, when it is our own merit or demerit that we
judge of ; and the motion of the spirits which causes
them is then so manifest that it shows itself in the
whole bearing, the gestures, the walk, and, in general,
in all the actions of those who conceive a better or a
worse opinion of themselves than common.
ARTICLE CLII.
The ground of self-esteem.
And inasmuch as one chief part of wisdom is to
know in what degree and on what ground one ought
to esteem or contemn himself, I will now attempt to
state my opinion. I observe within ourselves but one
thing which can afford just ground for self-esteem,
namely, the use we make of our free-will, and the
control we have over our desires ; for it is only the
actions which depend upon this free-will for which we
may, with reason, be praised or blamed ; and it makes
us in a certain way like to Deity, by making us masters
of ourselves, provided we do not, by a base remiss-
ness, lose the rights which it confers.
ARTICLE CLIII.
In what high-mindedness consists.
Accordingly I think that true high-mindedness
(gentrosite), which makes a man esteem himself as
highly as it is legitimate for him to do, simply consists,
in part, in his being persuaded that there is nothing
322 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PARTY
which truly belongs to him but this free control over
his desires, and that there is no reason why he should
be praised or blamed, except because he has used this
power well or ill ; and, in part, that he is conscious
within himself of a firm and steadfast determination
to use it well, that is to say, never to fail willingly to
undertake and to carry out all things which he shall
judge to be the best : which is to follow virtue per-
fectly.
ARTICLE CLIV.
That it keeps one from despising others.
Those who have this knowledge and sentiment con-
cerning themselves are easily persuaded that any
other man may have it also of himself, because there
is nothing in it which depends on other persons. It
is for this reason that they never despise anyone ;
and although they see that others commit faults which
betray their weakness, they are nevertheless more in-
clined to excuse than to blame them, and to believe
that it is more from want of knowledge than from
want of will that they have done these things ; and
while they do not think themselves much inferior to
those who have greater possessions or honors, or even
to those who have more intellect, more learning, more
beauty, or, in general, who surpass them in any other
perfections, so, on the other hand, they do not esteem
themselves much above those whom they surpass,
because all these things appear to them quite incon-
siderable in comparison with the good will, for which
alone they esteem themselves, and which they assume
to be, or at least may possibly be, in every other
man.
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 323
ARTICLE CLV.
In what virtuous humility consists.
Thus the most high-minded are usually the most
humble ; and virtuous humility consists simply in
this, that reflecting on the infirmity of our nature and
upon the faults which we have committed in the past,
or are capable of committing, which are not less than
those of others, we do not prefer ourselves above any-
one else, mindful that others have free-will as well as
we, and may make as good use of it.
ARTICLE CLVI.
The characteristics of high- minded ness, arid how it
serves as a remedy for all the disorders of the passions.
Those who are high-minded, after this sort, are
naturally led to do great things, and yet not to attempt
anything of which they do not think themselves capa-
ble ; and because they do not esteem anything greater
than to do good to other men, and to think lightly of
their own advantage, for this reason they are always
perfectly courteous, affable, and obliging toward every-
one. And at the same time they have complete con-
trol of their passions, particularly of the desires, of
jealousy and envy, inasmuch as there is nothing the
acquisition of which does not depend on themselves,
that they think worth sighing for ; and they are able
to control the passion of hatred, because they think
well of all men ; and of fear, because the confidence
they have in their virtue gives them assurance ; and
finally, of anger, because, esteeming but lightly all
things which depend on others, they never give so
much advantage to their enemies as to show that they
have been offended
324 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART V
ARTICLE CLXXXV.
Of pity.
Pity is a species of grief, mingled with love or good
will toward those whom we see suffering some evil
which we think they have not deserved. It is thus
contrary to envy, by virtue of its object, and to ridi-
cule, because it regards that object in a different
way.
ARTICLE CLXXXVI.
Who are the most compassionate.
Those who are keenly sensible of their infirmities,
and of their exposure to the adversities of fortune,
appear to be more inclined to this feeling than others,
because they represent the evil which happens to
another as something which might happen to them-
selves ; and they are thus moved to compassion rather
through the love which they bear themselves than that
they have for others.
ARTICLE CLXXXVII.
Hoiv the more generous are affected by this sentiment.
But, nevertheless, those who are more noble and who
have the greater fortitude, so that they fear no evil
for themselves, and thus place themselves beyond the
power of fortune, are not devoid of pity when they
look upon the infirmities of others and hear their com-
plaints ; for it is the mark of the noble mind to desire
the happiness of everyone. But the sadness of this
pity is not bitter, and, like that caused by the tragic
scenes which one witnesses in a theater, it is rather an
external affair and more a matter of the senses than
PSYCHOLOGY] PASSIONS OF THE SOUL. 325
of the mind itself,* which, nevertheless, has the satis-
faction of thinking it has discharged its duty in that
it has sympathized with the afflicted. And there is
this difference, that whereas most people feel pity for
those who complain, because they think that the evils
they suffer are very serious, the principal object of
compassion on the part of greater minds, on the other
hand, is the weakness of those whom they see com-
plaining, because they consider that no adversity that
can possibly occur is so great an evil as the pusilla-
nimity of those who cannot endure it with constancy ;
and, although they abhor vices, they do not abhor
those whom they perceive to be subject to them, but
simply regard them with pity
ARTICLE CCXII.
That upon the passions alone depend all the good and
the evil of this life.
To conclude : The mind may indeed have its own
pleasures apart from the body, but as for those which
it has in common with the body, these depend entirely
* " Not always. A man of great fortitude and nobleness of
character may at the same time possess great constitutional sensi-
bility, with a lively imagination. Now the latter will represent to
him the distresses of another, whether known by verbal descrip-
tion, or by the usual signs and visual language of pain or grief,
with great vividness and distinctness of impression, and thus pro-
duce in his own passive life perhaps even more acute feelings and
stronger sentiments of grief than the actual sufferer's nature is sus-
ceptible of while he cannot take for granted an equal share of
fortitude with himself. He fancies himself suffering the distress
without the power of enduring it and apart from the alleviations
and compensations with which it would be accompanied in his own
instance and this may be a very painful sympathy. S. T. C."
Marginal jotting by Coleridge.
326 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES.
upon the passions, insomuch that the men whom they
can most deeply stir are capable of tasting most sen-
sibly the sweetness of this life, but it is true also they
may experience most keenly its bitterness, in case
they know not how to regulate them, or fortune be
contrary ; but in this very thing appears the principal
use of wisdom, that it teaches a man how to become
master of himself, and so skillfully to regulate his pas-
sions that the evils they cause shall be quite endur-
able, while from every one of them he shall extract its
due delight.
ETHICS.
LETTERS ON THE HAPPY LIFE AND THE
HIGHEST GOOD.
ON THE HAPPY LIFE.*
WHEN I decided upon Seneca's book De Vita
Beata to propose to your Highness as an agreeable
subject for correspondence, I had in mind merely the
reputation of the author and the importance of the
subject, without considering the treatment he had
given it, which, when I did consider afterward, I did
not find to be quite careful enough to deserve to be
followed. But in order that your Highness may the
more easily judge of it, I will endeavor to explain in
what manner it seems to me that this subject should
have been treated by a philosopher such as he was,
who, not being enlightened by faith, had only natural
reason for his guide. He says very well at the be-
ginning : Vivere omnes beate volunt, sed ad pervidendum
quid sit quod beatam vitam efficiat, caligant. But we
need to know what vivere beate is. I would say in
French vivre heureusement, if it were not that there is
a difference between I'heur and la latitude, namely,
that Vheur depends merely on things external to us,
whence it comes about that those are rather to be
esteemed fortunate than prudent (sages) to whom
some good happens which they have not themselves
procured, whereas la beatitude consists, as it seems to
me, in a perfect contentment of spirit and an interior
satisfaction which the most favored of Fortune do not
commonly have and which the virtuous (les sages)
acquire without her aid. Accordingly, vivere beate,
* Letters to the Princess Elisabeth, (Euvres, t. ix, pp. 210-249.
33 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART VI
vivre en beatitude, is nothing else than to have the
mind perfectly content and satisfied.
Considering next what quod beatam vitam efficiat
means, that is to say, what the things are which are
able to yield us this supreme contentment, I observe
that they are of two kinds, namely, those which de-
pend upon ourselves, such as virtue and wisdom, and
those which do not depend upon ourselves, such as
honors, riches, and health ; for it is certain that a man
well-born, who is in health, and in want of nothing,
and who, besides that, is as wise and virtuous as
another man who is poor, sickly, and deformed, can
enjoy the more complete contentment. Still, as a
little vessel may be as full as a larger one, although
it hold less liquid, so, taking the contentment of each
to mean the fulfillment and satisfaction of his desires
regulated according to reason, I do not doubt that
the poorest and most disgraced of fortune or of
nature may be as entirely content and satisfied as
others, although they may not enjoy so many advan-
tages. And it is this sort of contentment only which
is here considered ; for since the other is in no wise
within our power, inquiry regarding it would be
superfluous. Now it seems to me that everyone has it
in his power to secure contentment from himself
alone, without seeking for it elsewhere, provided only
he will observe three things, to which relate the three
rules of conduct which I have laid down in the Dis-
course on Method.*
The first is that he always endeavor to use his
mind in the best way possible to him, to find out what
ought to be done or not to be done in all the occur-
rences of life. The second is that he maintain a firm
* (Euvres, t. i, pp. 146-153. See above, pp. 50-55.
ETHICS] ON THE HAPPY LIFE. 331
and constant resolution to carry out everything which
his reason dictates, without being turned aside there-
from by his passions or his appetites ; and it is this
firmness of resolution which I believe should betaken
for virtue, although I am not aware that anyone
hitherto has so defined it ; but it has been divided
into many species, to which different names have been
given, in view to the different objects to which it
relates.
The third, that, while he is thus conducting his life
so far as possible in accordance with reason, he
consider all advantages which he does not possess as
being one and all entirely beyond his power, and that
he thus accustom himself not to desire them ; for
there is nothing but desire or regret or repentance
which can prevent us from being contented. But if
we always do as our reason dictates, we shall never
have any occasion for repentance, because, although
in the event we may see that we were deceived, it could
not be through our own fault. And the reason why
we do not desire to have, for example, more arms or
more tongues than we do, but desire rather to have more
health and more riches, is merely that we imagine that
these latter may be acquired by our effort, or perhaps
that they are due to our birth, and in the other case it
is not so. We ought to rid ourselves of this opinion,
by considering that, in case we have always followed
the dictates of our reason, we have omitted nothing of
that which was within our power, and that maladies
and misfortunes are no less natural to man than pros-
perity and health.
Finally, not every sort of desire is incompatible
with true happiness (la beatitude] but only those which
are accompanied with impatience and sadness. It is
332 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART VI
not necessary, also, that our reason never deceive us;
it is enough that our conscience give its inward wit-
ness that we have never been wanting in the resolution
and the virtue to perform everything which we have
judged to be the best ; and thus virtue alone is suf-
ficient to make us contented in this life.
But nevertheless, inasmuch as our virtue, when it
is not sufficiently enlightened by the understanding,
may be false, that is to say, the resolution and the
will to do right may take us to things which are bad
when we believe them to be good, the contentment
which results from it is not secure ; and inasmuch as
this virtue is ordinarily opposed to pleasures, to appe-
tites, and to passions, it is very difficult to put in prac-
tice ; whereas the right use of reason, affording a true
knowledge of the good, prevents virtue from becoming
false ; and also, by bringing it into accord with lawful
pleasures, it renders the practice of it so easy, and, by
making us understand the limitations of our nature, so
limits our desires that it must be admitted that the
highest happiness of man depends on this right use of
reason, and consequently that the study which leads
to its acquisition is the most useful occupation in
which one can engage, as it is also, undoubtedly, the
most agreeable and pleasant.
Accordingly, it seems to me that Seneca should have
taught us all the principal truths the knowledge of
which is requisite to facilitate the practice of virtue
and to regulate our desires and our passions, and thus
to secure our natural happiness, which would have
made his book the best and the most useful that a
pagan philosopher could have written
. . . . I observe, in the first place, that there
is a difference between true happiness (la beatitude} t
ETHICS] ON THE HAPPY LIFE. 333
the highest good, and the final aim or end to which
our actions should be directed ; for true happiness is
not the highest good, but it presupposes it, and is the
contentment or satisfaction of mind which results
from its possession. But by the end of our actions
we may understand both ; for the highest good is un-
doubtedly that which we ought to propose to ourselves
as the end in all our actions ; and the contentment of
mind which springs from it, being the attraction which
makes us seek it, is also with good reason called our
end.
I observe, further, that the word pleasure was taken
in a different sense by Epicurus from what it was by
those who disputed with him ; for all his opponents
restricted the meaning of this word to the pleasures
of the senses, while he, on the contrary, extended it
to all satisfactions of the mind, as may readily be
seen from what Seneca and others wrote about him.
Now there were three principal opinions held by
pagan philosophers touching the highest good and the
end of our actions : to wit, that of Epicurus, who
said it was pleasure ; that of Zeno, who decided it to
be virtue ; and that of Aristotle, who made it consist
of all the perfections as well of the body as of the
mind. These three opinions may, as it seems to me,
be taken as true and accordant with one another, pro-
vided they are favorably interpreted. For Aristotle,
having in view the highest good of our whole human
nature taken in general that is to say, that which the
most perfect of mankind may attain is right in mak-
ing it consist of all the perfections of which human
nature is capable ; but that does not serve our turn.
Zeno, on the other hand, took it to be what each man
in his own person may possess ; that is why he was
334 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART VI
quite right in saying, also, that it consists only in virtue,
because it is that alone among all the goods we can
possess which depends entirely upon our free will.
But he represented this virtue as being so severe and
so opposed to pleasure, by making all vices equal,
that, as it seems to me, only melancholy persons, or
those whose minds were entirely detached from the
body, could have been his followers.
Finally, Epicurus was not wrong, when, considering
the nature of true happiness and the motive or end of
our actions, he said it was pleasure in general, that is
to say, contentment of mind ; for although the sim-
ple knowledge of our duty may oblige us to perform
good actions, that, nevertheless, would not cause us to
enjoy any happiness, if no pleasure came to us from
it. But inasmuch as the name pleasure is often at-
tributed to false delights, which are accompanied or
followed by disquietude, ennui, and repentance, many
persons have thought that this opinion of Epicurus
inculcated vice ; and, indeed, it does not inculcate
virtue. But just as when there is a prize offered for
shooting at a mark, those to whom the prize has been
shown have a desire to shoot, but yet cannot gain it if
they do not look at the mark ; and those who look
at the mark are not thereby induced to shoot at it,
unless they know that there is a prize to be gained ;
so virtue, which is the mark, does not excite desire
when seen by itself alone, and contentment, which is
the prize, cannot be gained, unless the virtue be
practiced.
This is why I think I may rightly conclude that
true happiness consists solely in contentment of mind
(that is to say, in contentment taken in general ; for
although there are forms of contentment which de-
ETHICS] ON THE HAPPY LIFE. 335
pend upon the body, and others which do not depend
upon it, there, nevertheless, is none which does not
exist within the mind) ; but to have a contentment
which is secure, one must follow virtue, that is to say,
one must have a firm and constant will to perform all
that he judges to be the best, and employ the whole
force of his understanding to secure a right judgment.
.... But in order that we may know precisely
how much each thing may contribute to our content-
ment, the causes which produce it must be consid-
ered, and this is one of the main things to be known
to facilitate the practice of virtue. For all acts of the
soul which lead to the acquisition of any perfection are
virtuous, and our whole contentment consists only in
the interior witness that we have acquired some per-
fection. Accordingly, we never shall practice any
virtue, that is to say, do anything which our reason
persuades us we ought to do, without receiving there-
from satisfaction and pleasure. But there are two
kinds of pleasures, the one pertaining to the mind
alone, the other to man, that is to say, to the mind in
its union with the body ; and the latter, presenting
themselves confusedly to the imagination, often ap-
pear greater than they are, especially before they are
possessed which is the source of all the evils and of
all the errors of life. For, according to the rule of
reason, each pleasure should be measured by the
greatness of the perfection which produces it, and it is
thus that we measure those the causes of which are
clearly known by us ; but, frequently, passion makes
us believe certain things much better and more desir-
able than they are ; afterward, when we have taken
great trouble to acquire them and have lost mean-
while the opportunity to gain other things which are
336 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART VI
really better, the enjoyment of them makes us aware
of their defects ; whence come disgust, regret, repent-
ance. Hence the office of reason is to examine into
the true value of all the goods the acquisition of which
depends in any manner upon our conduct, in order
that we may never fail to use all our diligence in the
endeavor to acquire for ourselves those which are in
reality the most desirable : in which, if fortune oppose
our designs and hinder our success, we shall at least
have the satisfaction of losing nothing through our
own fault, and we shall not fail of enjoying all the
natural happiness the acquisition of which was within
our power. Thus, for example, anger may excite in
us such violent desire for revenge as to lead us to
imagine more pleasure in punishing our enemy than in
preserving our honor or our life, and imprudently to
imperil both for this end.
Whereas, if reason inquire what is the good or per-
fection upon which is founded this pleasure which pro-
ceeds from revenge, it will find no other (at least
when the revenge does not serve merely to prevent a
fresh offense), than that it makes us imagine that we
have some superiority or some advantage over him upon
whom we take vengeance : which is often only a vain
imagination not worth considering in comparison with
honor or life ; nor even in comparison with the satis-
faction that one would have in seeing himself master
of his anger and in abstaining from revenge. And
the same is true of all the other passions : for there
is none of them which does not represent the good to
which it tends in brighter colors than it deserves, and
which does not make us imagine its delights far
greater, before we possess them, than we find them to
be afterward, when they are ours. This is why pleas-
ETHICS] ON THE HAPPY LIFE. 337
ure is commonly condemned ; because this word is
used to signify false delights which often deceive us
by their appearance and cause us meanwhile to neg-
lect other far more substantial ones, the aspect of
which does not affect us so much, as is ordinarily the
case with purely intellectual pleasures ; I say ordi-
narily, for not all pleasures of the mind are praise-
worthy, since they may be founded on some false
opinion, as the pleasure which one may find in detrac-
tion, which is based solely on the notion that one must
be so much the more esteemed as others are less so ;
and they can also deceive us by their appearance, when
some strong passion accompanies them, as is seen in
one who yields to ambition. But the principal differ-
ence between the pleasures of the body and those of
the mind consists in the fact that the body being sub-
ject to perpetual change, and its very preservation and
its welfare being dependent on this change, all its
pleasures are of short duration ; for they proceed only
from the acquisition of something which is useful to
the body at the moment that it receives it, and as soon
as it ceases to be useful to it, the pleasure ceases also ;
whereas, those of the mind may be as immortal as it-
self, provided they have a foundation so solid that
neither knowledge of the truth, nor any false per-
suasion, may destroy it.
Finally, the true use of our reason for the conduct
of life consists simply in the examination and dispas-
sionate estimate of the value of all perfections, as
well those of the body as of the mind, which can be
acquired by our own effort, in order that, being com-
monly obliged to do without some in order to have
others, we may always choose the best ; and since
those of the body are the least, it can, in general, be
338 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART VI
said that without them one has the means of making
himself happy. Still I am not of the opinion that
they should be entirely slighted, nor even that one
should be exempt from passions ; it is enough that
they be made amenable to reason, and when they
have thus been made tractable, they are often the
more useful in proportion as they incline to ex-
cess
.... There can be, I think, but two things requi-
site to our always being disposed to judge rightly ;
one is knowledge of the truth, the other the habit of
reminding one's self of this knowledge, and of con-
forming to it whenever occasion requires it. But
since it is God only who perfectly knows all things,
we must content ourselves with knowing those which
most nearly concern us ; among which is first and
chief that there is a God upon whom all things de-
pend, whose perfections are infinite, whose power is
unlimited, whose decrees are infallible ; for this
teaches us to receive in good part whatever happens
to us as being expressly sent to us from God. And
since the true object of love is perfection, when we
raise our minds to think of him as he truly is, we find
ourselves naturally so inclined to love him that we
extract joy even from our afflictions, when we think
that his will is being done in our receiving them.
The second thing to be known is the nature of the
soul, inasmuch as it exists without the body, and is
much more noble than it, and is capable of enjoying
an infinitude of pleasures which are not found in this
present life ; for this rids us of the fear of death, and
so detaches our affection from earthly things that we
look with mere disdain upon all that is within the
power of fortune.
ETHICS] ON THE HAPPY LIFE. 339
It will also be of much advantage to us to take
worthy views of the works of God and entertain that
vast idea of the extent of the universe which I have
endeavored to unfold in the third book of my Prin-
ciples* For if we suppose that beyond the heavens
there is nothing but empty space (des espaces imagi-
naires), and that the whole heavens were made only
for the sake of the earth, and the earth only for man,
we are led to think that this earth is our principal
abode, and the present life our best ; and instead of
recognizing the perfections which we truly have, we
attribute to other creatures imperfections which they
have not, in order to exalt ourselves above them ;
and going on in our impertinent presumption, we
would enter into the counsels of Deity and undertake
with him the management of the world a source of
vain disquietude and vexation without end.
When we have thus taken into account the good-
ness of God, the immortality of our souls, and the
greatness of the universe, there is still one truth more,
the recognition of which seems to me to be very use-
ful, which is this, that although each one of us is a
person separate from others, whose interests, conse-
quently, are in some degree distinct from those of
the rest of the world, it must still be remembered that
one cannot exist alone, that he is in reality a part of
the universe, still more particularly a part of this
earth, a member of the state, the society, the family,
to which he is joined by his abode, his oath of allegiance,
his birth ; and he must always prefer the interests of
the whole of which he is a part to those of himself in
particular, yet with measure and discretion : for it
would be wrong for one to expose himself to a great
* (Euvres, t. iii, p. 180.
340 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART VI
evil in order to secure a trifling advantage to his
family or his country ; and if a man is worth more,
himself alone, than all the rest of his town, he would
not be right, were he willing, to sacrifice himself to
save the town.
But if one refers everything to himself, he will not
shrink from doing considerable harm to other men,
when he thinks he may gain some small advantage
from it, and he will have no true friendship, nor fidel-
ity, nor any virtue at all ; whereas, by considering
himself a part of the public, one takes pleasure in
doing good to everybody, and even does not fear to
expose his life for the welfare of others when occa-
sion presents itself ; as one might be willing even to
lose his own soul, if it were possible, to save others :
so that this way of looking at things is the source and
origin of all the most heroic human actions. But as
for those who brave death through vanity, because
they hope to be applauded ; or from stupidity, because
they do not perceive the danger ; I think they are
rather to be lamented than approved. But when one
imperils his life because he believes it to be his duty,
or, indeed, when he suffers any other evil to the end
that some good may accrue to others, although he
may not do this with distinct recognition of the fact
that he owes more to the public of which he forms a
part than to himself as an individual, he nevertheless
may act from this consideration obscurely present to
his mind ; and one is naturally led to it, if he knows
and loves God as he ought ; for then, entirely sur-
rendering himself to his will, he divests himself of
his own individual interests, and has no other desire
than to do what he believes to be agreeable to the will
of God. Such an one experiences an inward satisfac-
ETHICS] ON THE HAPPY LIFE. 341
tion and content worth incomparably more than all
the petty fleeting joys of sense
Finally, I said above that, besides knowledge of the
truth, habit is also necessary to make one disposed
always to decide correctly ; for inasmuch as we can-
not give our attention constantly to the same thing,
however clear and convincing may have been the rea-
sons which have hitherto persuaded us of any truth,
we may afterward be turned aside from our belief in
it by false appearances, unless by long and frequent
meditation we have so impressed it upon our minds
that it has become a habit ; and in this sense they are
right in the school in saying that virtues are habits ;
for in fact one does not fail in duty from the lack of a
theoretical knowledge of what he ought to do, but
from the want of a practical possession of it, that
is to say, from the want of a fixed habit of convic-
tion. .
ON THE HIGHEST GOOD.*
I HAVE learned from M. Chanut that it pleases your
Majesty that I should have the honor of laying be-
fore you my views concerning the highest good, con-
sidered in the sense in which the ancient philosophers
discussed it ; and I esteem this command so great a
favor that the desire to obey it diverts my mind from
every other thought, and leads me, without deprecat-
ing my incompetency, to put down here in few words
all that I may know on this subject. One may con-
sider the goodness of each thing in itself without re-
lation to other things, in which sense it is evident that
God is the highest good, since he is incomparably
more perfect than the creatures ; but the good may
also be considered in respect to ourselves, and in this
sense I see nothing which we ought to esteem good
but that which may belong to us in some manner, and
be such as should render our possession of it a per-
fection.
Thus the ancient philosophers, who, unenlightened
by the faith, knew nothing of supernatural blessed-
ness, took into account only the goods we may possess
in this life, and it was among these that they asked
themselves what was the sovereign, that is to say,
the principal and the greatest good. But in order
that I may answer this question I hold that we ought
to esteem as goods in respect to ourselves those only
* Letter to Catherine, Queen of Sweden, (Evvres, t. x, pp.
59-04-
343
ON THE HIGHEST GOOD. 343
which we possess, or rather those which we have the
power to acquire ; and this granted, it seems to me
that the highest good of mankind in general is the
sum or assemblage of all the goods, as well of the
mind as of the body and of fortune, which may exist
in any men ; but that the highest good of each one in
particular is quite another thing, and that it consists
simply in a steadfast will to do right, and in the sat-
isfaction which it produces ; the reason of which is
that I do not know of any other good which seems to
me so great, or which is so entirely within the power
of each person. For, as for the goods of the body and
of fortune, they do not depend absolutely upon our-
selves : but those of the mind all turn on two principal
ones, which are, the one, to know, the other, to will,
that which is good ; but the knowledge of the good is
often beyond our ability ; there remains, therefore, our
will alone, which we may absolutely control. And I
do not see that it is possible to make a better disposi-
tion of it, than for one to have always a fixed and stead-
fast determination scrupulously to perform everything
which he shall judge to be best, and to make use
of all the powers of his mind to discover it ; it is in
this alone that all the virtues consist ; it is this alone
which, properly speaking, merits praise and honor ;
finally, from this alone results the greatest and the
most solid satisfaction of life : accordingly, I conceive
that in this consists the highest good.
And by this means I think I can bring into accord-
ance the two most opposed and most celebrated theories
of the ancients, namely, that of Zeno, who placed it
in virtue or honor, and that of Epicurus, who placed
it in that form of gratification to which he gave the
name of pleasure. For as all vices proceed only from
344 THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESCARTES. [PART VI
the uncertainty and the weakness which follows igno-
rance, of which the offspring is repentance ; so virtue
consists only in the resolution and the energy with
which one is borne on to the doing of things which
he thinks to be good ; provided this energy does not
spring from opinionativeness, but from the fact that
he is conscious of having, to the extent of his moral
ability, examined into the matter ; and although what
is then done may be bad, he is nevertheless assured
that he did his duty ; whereas, if one performs a
virtuous action, and yet means to do evil, or even does
not take pains to know what he is doing, he does not
act as a virtuous man.
As for honor and praise, they are often bestowed
upon the gifts of fortune ; but, as I am sure that your
Majesty thinks more highly of your virtue than of
your crown, I do not hesitate to say here that it seems
to me there is nothing but virtue which can rightly
be praised. All other goods deserve simply to be
cherished and not to be honored or commended, ex-
cept on the presupposition that they are acquired, or
obtained from God, by the right use of our free will ;
for honor and praise are a kind of reward, and nothing
but that which depends upon the will can be the sub-
ject of reward or punishment.
There remains still to show that from the right use
of free will results the greatest and most solid satisfac-
tion of life ; which does not seem to me to be difficult,
for considering carefully wherein consists pleasure or
delight, and in general all the forms of gratification
there may be, I observe, in the first place, that there
is none which does not exist entirely within the mind,
although many of them depend upon the body ; just
as it is the mind which sees, although it be through
ETHICS] ON THE HIGHEST GOOD. 345
the medium of the eyes. I observe, next, that there
is nothing which can afford satisfaction to the mind
but the thought that it is in the possession of some
good, and that frequently this idea is nothing but a very
confused representation, and also that its union with
the body is the cause of the mind's commonly repre-
senting certain goods as incomparably greater than
they are ; but that if it should distinctly recognize
their just value, its satisfaction would always be pro-
portioned to the greatness of the good whence it pro-
ceeds.
I observe, further, that the greatness of a good in
our esteem should not be measured simply by the
value of the thing in which it consists, but mainly also
by the manner in which it is related to ourselves ;
and besides, free will being in itself the noblest thing
which can exist within us, inasmuch as it renders us
in a certain manner equal to God, and appears to ex-
empt us from being subject to him, and by conse-
quence its right use is the greatest of all our goods
it is also that which is most peculiarly our own, and is
of the highest importance to us ; whence it follows
that from it alone can proceed our highest satisfac-
tions ; as witness, for example, the peace of mind and
interior delight of those who know that they have
never failed to do their best, as well in the effort to
know what is good, as in the gaining of it a pleasure
beyond comparison more sweet, more lasting, and
substantial than all that come from any other
source. .
INDEX.
Abelard, cited, 155.
Absolute and relative, defined,
74, 75-
Acids, action of, 218.
Air, 218, 219, 224, elements
of, 227.
Algebra, 46, 68, 74.
Anaclastic, the, 82.
Analysis of the Ancients, 46.
Anger, 336.
Animal spirits, 276 ff. , 296.
A priori demonstrations of nat-
ural events, 246.
Aristotle, 333.
Arithmetic and geometry, the
most certain sciences, 63.
Arts, method in, 88.
Attribute, 194, ff.
Augustine, cited, 117.
A utomata, bodies compared to,
280.
Automatism of brutes, 280 ff.
Axioms, 193.
Bacon, Lord, cited, 86.
Blood, circulation of the, 295.
Body, meaning of term, 120;
extension its essence, 176 ;
divisible, 183; distinguished
from mind, 293; living and
dead, 294; pleasures of, 337.
Brain, impressions in, 184, 186.
Brutes, ajttomata, 281 ff. ; do
not think, 282 ; have no
proper language, 283 ; have
no souls, 285.
Catherine,Queen, letter to, 342.
Cause and effect, 76 ; reality
in, 132.
Chance, no such power, 316.
Chaos, 235.
Circular, all movements, 222.
Clearness and distinctness in
conception, test of truth, 126,
154, 165, 169, 176, 179, 191.
Cogito, ergo sum, 115.
Coleridge, cited, 292, 297, 325.
Colors, in objects, 203.
Comets, 230, 251 ff.
Compassion, 324.
Composite and simple objects,
85, 97-
Conarium, 299.
Conception, distinguished from
imagination, 169.
Concurrence of God, 156, 194.
Connection, contingent and
necessary, 100.
Contempt and esteem, 320.
Contentment, 329, 330 ; rules
for securing. 330 ff.
Contradiction, test of impos-
sibility, 169.
Corporeal things, ideas of, 135;
proof of their existence, 178.
Death, cause of, 293.
Deduction and intuition, the
paths to knowledge, 64, 79 ;
how rehted, 90.
Definitions, logical, 118, 119.
Desire, defined, 311 ; where
the issue depends upon our-
selves, 314 ; and upon other
things, 315; what sort is com-
patible with happiness, 331.
347
INDEX.
Diophantes, mathematician, 70.
Discipline of the mind, the end
of studies, 61.
Distinct and clear conceptions j
true, 126.
Doubt, not for doubt's sake,
56; the starting-point, 113,
187.
Duration, 195.
Earth, element of, 227 ; the,
230; motion of the, 260.
Elements, their number, etc.,
226, 228, 229.
Eloquence, nature of, 39.
Eminently, 133, 137, 178.
Emotions, interior, 317.
End of action, 333.
Energy, active and passive, 95.
Enumeration, methodical, 77 ;
or induction, 78, 79 ; suf-
ficient, 79, 80.
Epicurus, 333, 334, 343.
Erdmann, reference to, 99.
Error, nature and source of,
148, 150 ; in judgments based
upon the senses, 174.
Esteem and contempt, 320.
Existence of God not separable
from his essence, 162.
Extension, 159 ; essence of
body, 176, 200, 236.
Faculties, employed in knowl-
edge, 83, 85, 92 ; active and
passive, 177 ; of mind, not
parts, 183.
Faith, verities of the, 55 ; an
act of will, 65.
Feeling, nature of, 172.
Final cause, not to be sought
in nature, 149, 184.
Fire, element of, 226, 229, 231.
Fischer, K., references to, 58,
84, 139, 144, n.
Flame, 211, 217, 219, 228.
Fluids, 215, 216, 217, 220.
Gassendi, reply to, 116.
General notions, 192.
Geometry and arithmetic, the
most certain sciences, 63.
Gland, pineal, 276 ff., 298 ff.
God, proofs of existence of,
126 ff., 144 ; idea of, 132,
135. 137, 195 ; first of innate
ideas, 165; all other knowl-
edge dependent on the knowl-
edge of, 166, 168 ; the only
substance, 194 ; concourse of ,
necessary to perception, 194 ;
immutable, 239, 243 ; author
of all movements in the uni-
verse, 248.
Good, the highest, 333, 342,
343-
Goods, of the body and of the
mind, 343.
Gravity, theory of, 259 ff.
Habit, necessary to virtue, 338,
341;
Happiness, true, 331 ; distin-
guished from the highest
good, 332, 333.
Harvey, reference to, 295.
Hatred and love, denned, 310.
_Heartj__structure and action
of, 295 ijnot the seat of the
passions, 301.
Heat, nature of^~2ii, 213 ; of
the heart, 224, 280, 296.
Heavens, nature of the, 230;
movements of, the cause of
the motions of the stars, etc.,
251 ff.
Highmindedness, 315, 321 ff.
History, defects of, 39.
Hobbes, cited, 154.
Honor and Praise, how rightly
bestowed, 344.
Humility, 323.
Hyperaspistes, reply to, 128 n.
I a thing which thinks, 142.
I think, therefore I am a nec-
essary truth, 115; not the con-
clusion of a syllogism, 116;
not identical with reasonings
of Augustine, 117.
INDEX.
349
Idea, a first, 134.
Ideas, 94, 127, 135; received
by the senses, 173.
Imagination, aid to intellect,
83; part of the body, 94; na-
ture of, 169.
Immortal, brutes not, 285.
immortality of the soul, 337,
339-
Inertia, law of, 239.
Infinite, a positive idea, 138;
God actually so, 140.
Intelligence, the first thing to
be known, 61, 83.
Intuition, conditions of, 90; and
deduction, the path to truth,
64, 104.
Joy, defined, 311.
Judgments, from impulse, con-
jectures, deduction, 103; the
source of error, 127.
Kant, references to, 84, 180.
Knowledge, only certain, to be
sought, 62; what it is and
how far it extends, 84; intel-
lect alone capable of, 85;
whether it may increase to in-
finity, 139.
Language, belongs to man
alone, 282.
Life, the happy, 329.
Light, nature of, 207, 250, 262;
ff . ; properties of, 265 ff.
Logic, opinion of, 45, 67, 89.
Logical distinction, 198, 199.
Love and hatred, defined, 310.
Mahaffy, reference to, 1 54.
Man, the body of, 275 ff. ;
compared to a machine, 278.
Mathematics, love of, 39 ;
meaning of term, 71; the
universal science, 72.
Mathematical truth, why we
may doubt it, 112.
Matter, primary, 234; essence
of, its extension, 236; its ten-
dency to move in straight
lines, 243 ff.
Memory, employed in knowl-
edge, 83, 85, 92; explained,
303-
Method, necessity of, 66.
Mind, always thinks, 128 n.;
its essence, thought, 176; in-
divisible, 183; receives im-
pressions solely from the
brain, 184: power over the
body, 302; pleasures of, 336.
Miracles, not wrought in the
new world, 246.
Modal distinction, 198, 199.
Modes, 192, 196.
Motion, heat and light, modes
of, 211, 213 ; forms of, 215 ;
always circular, 222, 243,
247 ; of matter at creation,
235, 238 ; three rules of,
239 ff. ; simplest form of,
240.
Moral code, 50.
Natural phenomena, all are
modes of motion, 245.
Nature, light of, 130, 132, 136,
140, 142, 146, 155 ; the or-
der established by God in
creation, 179 ; truth of its
teachings, 179, 180; falsity
of its teachings, 181, 187 ;
sense of the term, 179, 181,
238.
Negation and privation, 99,
156.
Nerves, origin in the brain, 94,
184.
Notions, simple, 192; common,
or axioms, 193.
Number, 197.
Object and idea, 131.
Objective reality, 132.
Ontological argument for the
being of God, 162 ff.
Pain and pleasure, sensations
of, 209.
35
INDEX.
Pappus, mathematician, 70.
Particular truths known before
general, 117.
Particles, into which matter is
divisible, 216, 219.
Passion, is action, 291 ; dis-
tinguished from bodily func-
tions, 292 ; effect of, 302,
335, 330, 338.
Passions, primary causes of,
307 ; their service, 307, 310,
313 ; how their number is
determined, 307 ff. ; due to
the motions of the blood and
spirits, 312 ; upon them de-
pend all the good and evil of
this life, 325.
Perceptible, what objects are,
224.
Perception, is thought, 122 ;
the self known in, 124 ; de-
pendent on motion, 224.
Perfection, of the universe, 150,
157; pleasure measured by,
335 ; true object of love, 335.
Perspicacity, how cultivated, 87.
Philosophy, opinion of, 40.
Pineal gland, 276, 298 ff.
Pity, 324.
Planets, 230, 251 ff., 255 ff.;
scintillations of, 272.
Pleasure, senses of the term,
333 ; as end of action, 334 ;
measure of, 335 ; kinds,
335 ff-
Poetry, 39.
Preservation, continued crea-
tion, 141.
Privation, 99, 155.
Probable opinions, when to be
followed, 52.
Providence, divine, 315, 316.
Real distinction, 198.
Reason, intuitive and discur-
sive, 99 ; office of, 336, 337.
Regret, how avoided, 331.
Relative and Relations, defined,
75-
Revenge, 336.
Sadness, defined, 312.
Sagacity, how cultivated, 87.
Science, nothing but the human
intelligence, 61.
Sciences, all bound together,
62.
Self, existence of, undeniable,
114.
Self-esteem, ground of, 321.
Seneca, reference to, 329, 332,
333-
Sense, perceives passively, 93 ;
the common, 93, 94, 184.
Senses, deceive us, 108.
Sensations, 172, 202, 213.
Sensible qualities, 136.
Simple and composite things,
85, 97-
Sleep, illusions in, 109.
Society, interests of, to be pre-
ferred to those of self, 339 ff .
Solids, 215, 216, 217, 220.
Soul, united to the body, 297 ;
ana DOdy, how they act on
one another ,_30i ; conflict of
inferior and superior parts,
305 ff .
Sound, nature of, 208.
Space, not empty, 221.
Stars, fixed, 230 ; scintillations
of, 270.
Substance, 136 ; infinite and
finite, 138; defined, 194;
two forms of, I94j ,2Ojo_2Q2._.
Sun and stars, formation of,
247 ff.
Syllogism, of no use in discov-
ery, 90.
Theology, reverence for, 40. . ,
Thinking substance, the mind, ;
176, 200.
Thought, what it is, 115, 121. \
Time, distinguished from du-
ration, 196.
Understanding, not the source
of error, 151; should precede
will, 155.
Uniformity of motion and fig-
INDEX.
351
ure, tendency of matter to-
ward, 247 ff.
Universal and particular no-
tions, 75.
Universals, 197.
Vacuum, 220, 221, 223, 247.
Veitch, references to, 58, 125,
126, 127, 129, 132, 133, 144,
153, 177, 178, 193, 207, 220.
Verities, eternal, 245.
Vices, source of, 343, 344.
Virtue, the remedy for the pas-
sions, 318 ; depends upon
ourselves, 330 ; defined, 331,
344 ; alone worthy of praise,
344.
Volition, effect of, on the body,
Voluntary, term defined, 310.
Will, its range, 152, 156 ; cause
of error, 153 ; understanding
must precede, 155.
Wisdom, depends upon our-
selves, 330.
Wonder, 308.
Words, as symbols, 207.
World, description of a new,
233 ff.
Zeno, reference to, 333, 343.
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