DISCOURSE

ON THE

METHOD OF RIGHTLY CONDUCTING THE REASON,

AND SEEKING TRUTH IN THE SCIENCES.

BY DESCARTES.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH:

WITH AN INTRODUCTION.

EDINBURGH: SUTHERLAND AND KNOX.

LONDON: 8IlIPKIN, IIAB8HA.LL, AND CO.

HDCCCL.

J<nINBUnOH : T. CONSTABLII:, PIlINTER TO HI!:R llIAJE8TI.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

WITH respect to the Tract, of which a transla­tion is here presented, it may be proper to state,that what refers strictly to its matter has beenreserved for the Introd~etiQri.,;':·

It may be neceasary-however, here to mention,that the DISOOURSE <?N ':M~~HQD is possessed of atwofold value and interest; firstly, on account ofthe doctrines which, viewed in itself: the Tractcontains; and, secondly, from its being thegeneral introduction to the works of DESOARTES,

which, as is well known, were the means of elicit­ing the intense philosophical activity of the lasttwo centuries, of determining the current of thisactivity, and of raising those problems withwhich philosophical schools continue at this hourto grapple.-The Translator would consider that

, an important end had been promoted were thepresent translation of the METHOD to aid infixing the attention of those interested in philo-

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

sophical pursuits on the other works of its greatAuthor.

It is hoped, moreover, that the MBTBOD mayprove a somewhat suitable accompaniment to theLOGIO of the PORT-RoYAL. These treatises pos­sess each, indeed, a separate utility: and, thoughthe end sought by each is different, the realizationof the ends of both is necessary to perfect know­ledge. For while the practical end of Logic is theright ordering of the matter of thought, the endof the DISOOURSE ON METHOD is mainly to mani­fest the reality, and determine the sphere ofknowledge: and the latter process does not yieldin importance or necessity to the former.

With reference to' the translation, it is properto state that, though the French work has beentaken as the basis, the Translator has not con­sidered himself bound to adhere, ill: every in­stance, to its text. The first, or French editionhas, indeed, been carefully compared throughoutwith the Latin; and, as this edition is declaredby DBSCARTES to have been revised byhimself,and to contain amendments on the original fromhis own hand, the preference has been accordedto it in all cases in which it has appeared tothe Translator that the meaning is more per­fectly given."

* Compare, e.g.,Rule III., METROD, Part II., in the French andLatin.

TRANSLATOR'S PltEFACE. vii

The Translator is not aware of the existence ofany previous English version of the METHOD.

The Translator willingly takes this opportunityof acknowledging his great obligations to Profes­sor MACDOUGALL. To his minute revision of thetranslation numerous improvements are due.

EDINBURGH, October 1850.

INTRODUCTION BY THE TRANSLATOR.

THE DISOOURSE ON METHOD principally containstwo things:-

1. An account of the Philosophical Method ofits author."

2. A summary of the Ohief Results of theMethod.

• DESCARTES was born at La Haye, in Touraine, in the year 1596,and died at Stockholm in 1650. Of the particulars of his life, it isunnecessary to say anything, as a knowledge of them is easily acces­sible. The Dilcourse on M etkodcontains, moreover, an account ofthe rise and progress of his speculations; and it is in his characterof thinker and philosophical reformer that we have now to deal withhim.

The principal works of DESCARTES are-1. The four Treatises originally published in & single volume with

the following title, Discours de la Methode pour bi8n conduire saRaison, et ckercker la Verite dans l§ Sciences. Plus, la Dioptrique,Ia Meteores, et la Geomune, qui ,ant del ElBa" de eeue Methode.Leyden, 1637.

The Method, Dioptrics, and Meteoric&, were translated into Latinby Courcelles, and published at Amsterdam in 1644. There is alsoby DESCA.RTES a fragmentary treatise, the subject of which is kindredto that of the Method. It is entitled, Regul(JJ ad Directionem Ingenii;and to it is annexed another entitled, Inquiritio Veritatis per u'menNaturak. These were published posthumously.

2. Meditationes de prima Pkilosopki8., ubi de DBi ea;istentili, etani­flUB immortalitate. Paris, 1641.

3. Principia PhilosopkiiS. Amsterdam, 1644.4. Traite de, Passions de l'Ame. Amsterdam, 1649.

x L.'VrRODUCTION.

To these I propose to advert in their order;but chiefly to the former, because, in the firstplace, a special reference to the Method itself ismainly relevant in an introduction to the DIS­COURSE ON METHOD, and because, in the secondplace, a formal though general discussion of theresults of the Cartesian Method must far exceedthe limits of the present introduction. Certainof the prominent results of the Method will,however, fall to be noticed as illustrative of thecharacters of the Method itself: and certain ofthe more general relations of DESCARTES to suc­ceeding philosophers will be indicated in conclu­sion,

OF THE METHOD OF DESCARTES.

The Method of DESCARTES has a preliminary,the character of which it is necessary preciselyto ascertain.

The preliminary to the Method is Doubt. Thisleads us to inquire, in the first place, into the na­ture of the Cartesian Doubt.

I. Doubt in general, and the Cartesian doubt inparticular, isequivalent aimply to the absence ofanydecision, whether affirmative or negative, "respect­ing the relation of the subject and predicate of ajudgment. Doubt is thus the suspension of theact of the faculty of judgment, in so far as thedetermination of the joining or disjoining of theterms of a proposition is concerned. This sus­pension arises in the absence of grounds adequateto determine either certain affirmation or nega-

INTRODUCTION. xi

tion; and passes away. whenever the mind isdetermined either to join or disjoin, to include orexclude, with certainty. Thus far of doubt ingeneral, and of the Cartesian doubt in particular."

It is necessary to state farther, that the Carte-sian doubt embraced within its sphere all thejudgments and beliefs that were due to educationand authority. Of these, DESOARTES made a sur­render, under certain conditions and reservationsto be found stated in the Method (Part III.):which, however, scarcelyaffect the generality andimmediateness of the doubt.

But doubt, suspension of judgment, is withDESCARTES not an end in itself; it is not that forwhich, as with the Sceptic, the activity of thefaculties of knowledge is put forth, and which isitself for no other end. On the contrary, doubtis with DESOARTES singly a means, and the endof the Cartesian doubt is the end of the Cartesian

* .Asin certain passages of the Discou". on Method the precisenature of the Cartesian doubt does not appear, it may be proper toquote the following explicit declaration by DESCARTES himself, illreply to GASSENDI:-" In order to rid one's self of allsort8 of preju­dices, it is neceH8&ry only to resolve to affirm or deny nothing of allthat we had formerly affirmed or denied, until this has been examinedanew, although we are not on this account prevented from retainingin the memory the whole of the notions themselves." Lettre de M.Descartes aK. Clerselier, &0. See Simon's Ed., p. 367. CompareRemarks on Seventh Objections, E.

In doubting, therefore, DESCARTBS suspended his judgment, thatis, he asserted neither that the subject lay within nor without thesphere of the predicate; and as in this respect the act had no deter­minate product, DESCARTES was not as yet a Dogmatist. Again, asthe doubter resolved to doubt, he affirmed the propriety of thedoubt, and its necessity as a means to his end; to the extent of thisaffirmation, DESCARTES is a Dogmatist.

xii INTRODUOTION.

Method, viz., Certainty. In this respect is theCartesian doubt distinguished from the sceptical,the end of which is not the certainty of affirma­tion and negation, but continual doubt, and thencepermanent indifference and indisturbance.s

The Cartesian doubt, therefore, in so far aspreliminary to the Cartesian Method, is simplyequivalent to a resolution to accept such truthsas the philosopher might determine to fall withinthe sphere of Science, of Philosophy, on their ownevidence, and on that alone.

Such is the nature and end of the Cartesiandoubt. The manner in which DESCARTES availshimself of doubt to accomplish the end of hisMethod will be noticed in detail when we cometo show how he manifests the reality of know­ledge.

From what has been said of the Cartesian doubtits legitimacy is manifest. Doubt of this nature,though perhaps not in an unlimited generalityand immediacy, is even obligatory as a means toknowledge, if we would not take our opinions ontrust.

But, in the second place, it may be proper atthis stage to show what the Cartesian doubt,viewed in its general aspect, involves, in respectof the Principle of Truth and Certainty.

II. This is manifestly the denial of the jurisdic­tion of authority in the sphere of the true and

* See the Method, Part II!., p. 71; also Part IV.; and the]st Meditation, passim; compare HypotYP08es of S. Emplricus,Book I., chap. iv,

INTRODUCTION. xiii

the false. DBSCARTES doubted, withheld his as­sent from the judgments bequeathed to him byeducation and authority, that he himself mightdetermine which, and how many of these weretrue. By this act he implicitly asserted a rightto decide upon the truth or falsity of what author­ity had laid down, and, therefore, the superiorityto authority of another principle in the sphereof truth. This new principle was none otherthan Human Thought itselt:-thought.unfetteredexcept by its own laws,-the intelligence actingwithin the limits prescribed to it by its own na­ture and constitution. But to proclaim free re­flection as a principle superior to authority in thesearch after causes or reasons, was to proclaim .theindependence of philosophy,-to affirm that thedeliverances of human thought were superior tothe decrees of the Church. By his doubt, there­fore, did DESCARTBS challenge the propriety, andconsummate the ruin of that philosophy knownas Scholastic, whose foundations for the last twocenturies had been gradually giving way, andchiefly under the influence of independent phy­sical research. Under Scholasticism the humanmind had other laws than its own,-thought wassubordinated to authority, at first absolutely, thenpartially, and the whole activity of the mindwas limited to the deduction of conclusions fromprinciples which authority furnished. But in thenew and pure philosophy of DESOARTES, the mindwas set free to seek alike its principles and con­clusions; authority was subordinated to thought.

xiv INTRODUCTION.

In this respect, what BAOON- accomplished inBritain, DESCARTES accomplished on the Con­tinent.

But, in the third place, it is not enough thatthe mind be disenthralled, and permitted to goin search of principles in independence of author­ity; care must be taken that liberty do not de­generate into license. After the Cartesian pre­liminary, it was possible that the mind might becarried a'Yay by the mere pleasure of activity;and, as the degree of activity is higher, and con..sequently the pleasure, in proportion to the ab­sence of impediment or of rule, the danger of themental activity setting at nought all limits, .orof mind acting without rule, was great. Hencethe need of a fixed or"regular philosophical pro­cedure as the only guarantee of reaching truthand certainty,-hence, in a word, the need of aMETHOD. This leads us to inquire more particu­larly into the nature of Method.

III. On this point we have an explicit declar­ation by DESCARTES himself, which is at once briefand comprehensive. "By Method (he says) Iunderstand rules certain and eal1'!l, such as to,

* The Philosophical Reformation accomplished by DESCARTES waseffected in absolu te independence of BACON. DBSCARTES was no doubtacquainted with the works of BACON in the year 1638(Ep. Par!. ii.Ep. lxvii.), and even perhaps so early as ]626. 1'hese admissions donot, however, affect his absolute originality, for we know from hisown statement that he had commenced in 1619 to seek truth in in­dependence of authority, and according to the principles of theMethod which even then he had thought out for himself. ButDKSCARTES, in ~ruth, in what he essayed and accomplished, and inthe means he adopted, has but little in common with BACON.

INTRODUCTION. xv

prevent anyone, who shall have accurately ob­served them, from ever assuming what is false forwhat is true, and by which, with flO effort ofmind uselessly consumed, but always by degreesincreasing science, a, person will arrive at a trueknowledge of all those things which he will becapable of knowing." -(Beg. ad direct. ingenii­Reg. iv.)

In accordance with this declaration, it is mani­fest that procedure by a Method is a fixed proce­dure, for it is a procedure according to rule. It isthus opposed to procedure by chance or at random.

Such procedure supposes, it is plain, the pre­vious determination of some end which in thusproceeding we design, and exclusively design, torealize. Procedure by Method, as a procedure inaccordaace with certain rules, which we have laiddown with a view to the realization of an end,is therefore a reflective procedure.

As a Method is thus a sum of precepts, theobservance of which is calculated to enable us torealize .a given end, it is plain that the kindand character of the precepts of which a methodis the sum will be determined by the kind andcharacter of its end: hence Methods will- differ.aeeording to their ends. The character of philo­sophical Method will therefore be determined bythe nature of the end of Philosophy.

Now, Philosophy or Science is possible, and isnecessary, because of our possession of facultiesof knowledge: hence the end of philosophy is theend of these faculties, that is, is Knowledge.

xvi INTRODUCTION.

Again, as we only really know when we knowa thing as it is, that is, when our knowledge istrue, the end of philosophy of science may besaid to be Truth: hence philosophical or scientificMethod will be a procedure so regulated as toenable the seeker to reach Truth.

It is thus that DESCARTES makes True Know..ledge (vera cognitio), or Truth, the end of philoso­phical or scientific Method.

The mind, in proceeding by Method, while itmanifests, likewise concentrates its activity. Itseeks • through the action of the faculties ofknowledge, specially directed, more perfect know­ledge than is passively afforded in the spontane­ous presentations of sense and self-consciousness.The activity of the faculties of knowledge is con­centrated on objects, and is only manifested inaccordance with certain rules. The cognitivepower, by being thus limited to a determinatechannel, is prevented from being wasted or thrownaway in irregular exercise. The activity of themind is subordinated to the realization of a givenend; the mind itself has another rule than itsown impetuosity. DESCABTBS, therefore, to reachtruth, and for the right conduct of the mind,that is, to prevent it from wasting its powers incapricious activity, instituted a, Method.

Such is the end, and such the need of Method.It will be necessary, however, in the fourth place,to show more particularly the nature of the Methodof DESCARTES; and, first, of the Method in itsprior halt

DrTRODUCTION. xvii

IV. The end of philosophical procedure is, aswe have seen, True Knowledge, or Truth.

Truth refers exclusively to judgments. A judg­ment is true when what we include within certainlimits is really therein included, and when whatwe exclude is really therefrom excluded. Theend of philosophical method in general is, there­fore, the determination of real inclusions and ex­clusions.

We must distinguish, however, between Methodthat is instituted merely for the purposes ofScience, and that instituted for the ends of Philo­sophy Proper.

The end of Scientific Method in general is, thedetermination of individual truths in this andthat matter, the elaboration of these into classes,and the binding them up into system.

The end of the Method of Philosophy Proper,as this is laid down by DESCARTES, is twofold;for it is to find by reflection, the Ultimate Groundof the Truth of the judgments of Science; andlikewise of our Assurance of the truth of thesejudgments.

DESOARTES thus seeks to establish and vindicatethe reality of knowledge; and that by connect­ing, in the way of consequence, the whole seriesof subordinate troths, that is, the whole truthsof Science with the ultimate troths, or truth, ifsuch exist: and likewise by discovering the groundof our assurance of individual truths through thediscovery of the ground of our certainty in thehighest truth.

xviii INTRODUCTION.

The determination of such troths or truth is,according to DESOARTES, to be reached by Analysis.The Philosophical Procedure of DESOARTBS isthus, in the first instance, Analytic.

Analysis, in general, consists in the resolutionof the complex into the simple and constituent.

The main, the ruling Analysis of DBSCARTES isessentially the Analysis of Geometry. The endof DESOARTES is to reach Principles or Reasons.In pursuance of this end, he proceedsalways fromthe judgment of the truth of which he is un­certain, and seeks to find whether the other judg­ments, which the one in question involves, aretrue, and through these to determine the truthof the proposition from which he starts. Such isthe nature of his general procedure.

The matter of our knowledge, viewedI in thelight of this Analysis, is not considered with re­ference to the purposes of classification (non inquantum ad oliquod. gen'U8 entis referuntur), butwith reference to its capability for consequence;to the relation of the determining and deter­mined (in quantum unre6tJ) aliis cogn08ci P088'U'nt).The knowledge sought is thus, when reached, ob­tained through other knowledge, through othertruth.

The Analysis of DESOARTBS thus manifestlysupposes doubt as its essential preliminary; for,as the end of the Analysis is to manifest truth,it is plain, since we have recourse to it, that truthis concealed,-that we are in ignorance, need de­termining reasons; in a word, are in doubt.

INTRODUCTION. xix

On the hypothesis that knowledge by Methodis possible, it is plain that there must be someknowledge, some truth, which is superior to doubt,and capable of affording other knowledge, othertroth whose certainty is dependent on the higherknowledge, that is, on principles.

In accordance with the nature of his instru­ment, the whole Philosophy of DESOAATES is butan attempt to find the Principles or Principlewhich, as absolutely ultimate in the order ofAnalysis, and, therefore, absolutely primary inthe order of the reverse process, that is, of Syn­thesis, affords the conditions and possibility ofScience, of Philosophy, or of Methodical Know­ledge. In other words, DESCARTES seeks thattroth which, itself contained in no higher, con­tains, or at least affords the condition of our reach­ing, all other truths.

Now the ultimate principles or principle must,as ultimate, be self-evidencing, that is, stand inneed of no proof, of no higher knowledge as itsguarantee; and the degree of its evidence mustbe such as to determine in the knower absoluteand indestructible assurance. The first truthmust, therefore, be approached through the High­est Certainty.

Again, as the absolutely certain is whollysuperior to doubt; as of such doubt in truth isimpossible, DESOARTES makes Doubt the meansof establishing the Ultimate Truth, by constitut­ing it the regulative principle of his Analysis.

DESCARTES thus not only commences with a

xx INTRODUCTION.

general doubt. He likewise proceeds to truththrough doubt; and that by proposing to deter­mine the limits of doubt. He seeks to discoverhow far doubt is possible, of what it is impos­sible; that is, whether there be any knowledgeof which we possess an absolute certainty.

Such is the Method of DESOARTES in its priorhalf: It will be necessary, however, now to de­velop its application, to show how DESOA.RTES

essays to construct Philosophy, or the Science ofReasons.

Proeeeding by Doubt, DESOARTBS finds it pos­sible to doubt of the truth of the presentations ofSense, and of the contents of Memory; and like­wise even of the demonstration of Mathematics.Such afford no absolute assurance.

But though it be possible to doubt whetheranything exists as it is presented, or existed asrepresented in Memory, it is impossible to doubtof the existence of the presentations and repre­sentations themselves; and as these presentationsand representations, in so far as we are consciousof them, are modes of our thought, it is impos­sible to doubt of the fact of Thought or Think­ing.-

• To show in what extension the term TAougkl (cogitatio, pen8t..e)is used by DESCARTES, the following passages may be adduced: " Inthe term tJwugIU I comprehend all that is in us of which we are im­mediately conscious. Thus all the operations of the will, of theintellect, of the imagination and eenses, are thoughts."-Rup. adSec. Ol;.~ct. p, 85. (Ed. 1663.) Again, in reply to the question,What is a thing which thinks 1he says, " It is a thing which doubts,undentands, conceives, affirms, desires, wills, and does not will,which imagines alsoand feels."-Med. II. p. 11.

INTRODUOTION.

But why is it impossible to doubt of the exist­ence of thought 1 Because, replies DBSCARTES, todoubt is to think. Hence in doubting itself wethink; let us 'doubt as we will we never escapethinking.

But in affirming the fact of our thought, orthinking, and in being necessitated to affirm it,we affirm and are necessitated to affirm the factof Self-Existence. This fact is, according to DEs­

OARTES, above proof, as it is above doubt: our con­sciousness of it is the first or fundamental, as it isan absolute and indestructible, certainty. The·place which this consciousness occupies in Oar­tesianism, as its cardinal point, demands for itspecial attention; while the diversity of opinionsconcerning the nature of the Cartesian expressionin which the knowledge is embodied necessitates _a special statement on the subject.

But to simplify the question, we must considerthat there are, as there can only be, two opinionsregarding the nature of the famous Cartesianprinciple.

DESOARTES,in the expression"Cogito, ErgoSum,"must either be held to deduce the knowledge ofself-existence from a higher (more general) know­ledge, as, e.g.,What thinks, is,phrenomenon impliesa substance, or simply to affirm the fact, that is,to enounce it as a knowledge immediately evident.If the former alternative be true, it is manifestthat this knowledge is no longer primary, is nolonger fundamental, since there is a knowledge(viz., that from which it is inferred) which is re-

xxii .mTBODUcnON.

latively prior. If the latter be correct, this know­ledge is a, first principle; it is not inferred fromany higher knowledge.

Nowthat this knowledge is mediate, is inferen­tial, DESOARTES has repeatedly and explicitly de­nied.- It is, therefore, according to DESOARTBS

immediate and underived. But though incapableof proof it is yet competent to show how the factis arrived at, is found, or supposed to be found, inthe way of Reflective Analysis.

To place the whole matter in a clear light, wehave, in the first place, to attend to the followingpoints. It ought to be considered:-

1. That Existence is as nothing to us where itis not manifested in some determinate Manner.In thinking anywhat as existing, we must thinkit existing in this or that Mode or Manner: ofExistence apart from the Modein which it appearsto us, we have no positive, no immediate know­ledge.

2. Again, that, as in thinking a thing existingwe must think it existing in this or that mode,80 we cannot think of a determinate Modeof exist­ence, without at the same time and in the sameindivisible act of thought, thinking that Some­what of which this Mode is a manifestation, exists.Wherefore:-

3. That Self, that "I" in existing for self, for

• See K. Couain, S.r le twtJiMI. d. Oogito, Ergo Sum, in the Frag­mmla P1Iilosophiqua. But see especially DBSCARTES'RtJ8pofuio adSecundas Ofdediona, p, 74 of the ed. 1663. See likewise SPINOZA'SPM. PAil. CarlM, vol. i. pan I. p. 4. (Ed. 1802.)

JKTRODUCTIOK.

me, exists only in this or that Mode: and like­wise that in appearing to me in this or that Modeit to, the extent of its appearance or manifestationexists, or is thought existent.

4. That Self as the Subject ot; or Existence un­derlying certain acts or modificationswhich existonly in so far as we are conscious of them, is notknown to us as existing unless through these;and likewise, that we cannot know, be conscious,of any modification or act without knowing,beingconscious, that Self to the extent to which we areconscious exists.

Now the First Principle of DB8cARTBs, as ex­pressed in the famousOogito, ErgoBum,is merely aparticular case, a concrete or determinate exem­plification of these universal laws of thought. Itis not an inference from these, but they are, so tospeak, derived from it: for universal laws, thoughpotentially prior, are actually posterior in theorder ofknowledge,to the particular casesin whichthey are discovered to us under a concrete form.Laws or principles that are necessary and of uni­versal extent are, according to truth and the doc­-trine of DESCARTES, revealed to us in particular·cases and in contingent matter, and are evolvedout of these not certainly by elaboration, but byanalysis, that is, they are found not made.

That the first principle of DESOARTES is of sucha character and no other,-is indeed a particularexemplification ofthese universal principles,-andno inference, may be made manifest by brieflycon­sidering it. Thus, in the first place, when DES-

xxiv INTRODUCTION.

CARTES, in the expression Oogito, Ergo Sum, says,1 think, or, I am thinlcing ,. he says likewise, I emist,or, I am existing. These affirmations are, in truth,identical. They are contemporaneous, and standin no relation of subordination, 1 am thinking isprecisely equivalent to I am 6flJiBting, as it mattersnot whether we seem to proceed from thinking toexisting, or from existing to thinking, for in theone knowledge is given the other: in knowingthat I think, I know that I exist, and in knowingthat I exist, I know that I think; that is, am con­scious of some determinate act manifested by me.The expression, Oogito, ErgoBum, is, therefore, notan enthymeme with the suppressed major (sump­tion), what thinks, is: but a simple affirmation ofthe identity in the sphere of self-consciousnessof thought and being.

Nor, in the second place, is the existence ofself as the subject of thought inferred from thehigher knowledge, every Quality supposes a Sub­stance, but affirmed: self and existence are notfirst sundered or found apart, and then conjoinedthrough some third knowledge, which is higher,more general, and, therefore, inclusive, but imme­diately known and affirmed in conjunction (aim­plici mentis intu.itu), and by the same indivisibleact in which we know and affirm the existence ofthought. We do not even come to know that self:or a subject of thought exists, through thinkingthat thought is a qu.ality, for this were virtuallyto have recourse to the general principle thatquality supposes a substance; and besides, to have

INTRODUCTION. xxv

already determined that there is a subject ofthought, it being impossible to know that a par­ticular mode of consciousness is a quality, unlesswe already know that there is a subject of thought.By this process we could only reach the knowledgesought by first taking it for granted in order toprove or establish it. Thus far of what DESOARTES

does not do. What he does, what he affirms, issimply that in knowing the fact of thought, inthinking, or in being conscious in this or thatmode, I know also the existence of a determinatesomething of which this thought is an act, andwhich it supposes: and this something is Self, is I.To suppose that the thinking subject can only beknown in as far as it is logically deduced fromthe higher principleof substance and pheenomenon,is to betray an ignorance of the order in whichwe know, nay, of the condition under which weacquire this more general knowledge; for it isimpossible to affirm by a reflective act that everyphsenomenon implies a substance, every act a sub­ject, until we have first, and, without reflection,affirmed that this or that phmnomenon has a sub­stance, and then by reflection affirmed that this orthat phmnomenon must have a substance. Uni­versal principles are at first given in particularforms,-in this or that matter, and it is singly byreflection that their necessity and universality be­come apparent."

These things manifest, it is plain, in the third

• Compare DESCARTES' Resp. ad Sec. Obj.• p, 74:, (eel. 1663,)and M. COUSIN, Lect. 14th on the True. (Bru888l1 ed.). B

xxvi INTRODUCTION.

place, that as of the fact of thinking we possessan absolute and indestructible assurance, so alsodo we possess a similar assurance of the fact ofour existence. To think for self is to exist, and,as in thinking there is given a subject of thought,of the existence of sel~-of this subject we havean absolute assurance. It is thus that DEBOABTBS

holds it to be as impossible to doubt of self-exist­ence as of the fact that we think; for, when Idoubt whether I exist, 1 think, and thus even be­cause I doubt of my existence, I, to the extent ofthis doubt, wist. Were I not existing when I sup­posed I was not, I would thus not exist by sup"position, and yet exist because I supposed. Thecertainty of our existence is thus not dependenton the certainty of the existence of God, or on thecertainty that God is no deceiver, for, even thoughdeceived, though compelled to think and deter­mine falsely, we think, are conscious; that is,exist. This certainty is the fundamental one; thebasis and ground of all knowledge and science;the Archimedean point on which DBSOARTBS, trust­ing to the potency of thought, seeks to raise thesuperstructure of science,

Thus far of the nature of the Cartesian Doubt,and its solution. But DESCARTES does not resthere. From finding ~omewhat that is above doubt,he proceeds to inquire into the grounds of its cer..tainty, and therefore into the last ground of ourassurance of the truth of all individual judgments.He thus seeks the Criterion of truth, or "thatthrough which we may be assured that we possess

INTRODUCTION. xxvii

truth,"andthrough which, therefore, scien.ce, know­ledge in its perfection, is possible, is alone possible.The criterion of truth is to be regarded as the po­sitive or final element in the Cartesian Method;for, besides now superseding doubt as the regula­tive principle of the Cartesian Analysis, it is like­wise constituted the regulative principle of theCartesian Synthesis.

There thus falls to be considered, in the fifthplace, the Cartesian Criterion of truth.

V. According to DESCARTES, certainty, assur­ance is not identical with the criterion of truth.The latter, or tha.t through which we know thatwe possess truth, is the ground or source of certain­ty, of assurance: but as we must possess certainty,assurance, before we can seek its ground or source,it is plain that, in the order of knowledge, assur­ance or the supposition that .we possess truth isprior to our discovery of the ground of certainty,of the criterion of truth.

Hence it is that DESCARTES does not seek todiseover, in the first instance, the criterion oftruth, but only some judgment absolutely certainand indubitable: in other words, he allows thefaculties of knowledge to spring into activity andform a product, that is, to affirm their own credi­bility, before he essays to determine tnat eondi­tion of cognitive activity, the consciousness ofwhich is certainty. DESCARTES thus essays todetermine not what must be the criterion of truth,but to discover what is, or by analysis to findthat element in a knowledge, OD the consciousness

xxviii INTRODUCTION.

of which, all doubt disappears. This procedure isin perfect harmony with the nature and conditionsof his instrument, Reflection, which does notcreate, but simplyreveals or exposesto viewwhatis already existent; and thus always supposes theprevious existence of matter on which to act,­of some spontaneous mental activity.

This brings us to the CartesianCriterion of truthitself: This is, in general, the clearness and dis­tinctness of the thought: by this, that a thing isclearly and distinctly thought, do we know thatthe thing is as we think it. DESCARTES, it ought,however, to be mentioned, connects his criterionof truth with the perfection of Deity.-

There is a single principle upon which the cri­terion as well as the other elements of the Carte­sian Method depend,-a principle through whichthe whole Method is led up to unity. In accord­ance with this view, the criterion falls to be con­sidered in subordination to this grand principle,and illustrative of it.

The principle of which the whole CartesianMethod, from its fundamental to its most remotecharacter, is but a manifestation and developmentin a variety of forms, is, that with a viewto truth"and certainty, to the realization of the end ofPhilosophy, there must be accordedto the thinkerthe perfect, that is, the free and full, action ofthe faculties of knowledge.j- The high generality

.. See the Discourse on Metbod t pp. 80,81.t With respect to the principle of which the Cartesian Method

is here shown to bea derelopment, the author ot these introductory

DlTRODlJCTION. xxix

of this principle secures to the Cartesian Method,in each and all of its precepts, perfect unity.But this requires illustration, and, in its de­velopment, will be found the proof of the prin­ciple.

With a viewto the illustration of the statementwe must recall, in the first instance, what hasbeen said concerning the nature of Method ingeneral Method in science seeks a more perfect,because more determinate, knowledge than ispassively afforded in the spontaneous and disor­derly presentations ofsenseand self-consciousness,The mind, in proceedingmethodically, asserts thesuperiority of its activity to its passivity, in thatwhat is presented is, by an act of will, arrestedfor examination by the faculties of knowledge.Philosophical Method in general is thus, as haabeen said, the manifestation of the cognitiveactivity in accordance with certain rules. Thisaotivity is the condition of philosophical or scien­tific knowledge.

But if activity of. mind be the condition ofphilosophical knowledge, it is manifest that themost perfect activity will best secure this know­ledge, that is, the end of Method. Or since manis capable of knowledge, only in so far as he pos­sesses certain faculties of knowledge; and as manonly actually knows, in so far as he exerts thesefaculties, it is manifest that man will better orpages is desirous of stating that its full importance and extent havebeen mainly suggested by the speculations of Sir w. HAMILTON onthe nature of Error.

xxx INTRODUCTION.

more perfectly know, in proportion to the absenceof hinderances to the manifestation of the acts ofhis faculties; and that the most perfect know­-ledge will b-e realized through the least impededaction of the powers of knowledge.

The perfect 'exercise of our faculties of know­ledge is only secured by the observance of certainconditions which may appear in the form of pre­cepts.

The Cartesian Method is but a sum of preceptswhich teach how to secure the highest or mostperfect, that is, at once the free and full actionof the faculties of knowledge. The end of eachof the Cartesian precepts is the free, or the full,action of these faculties.

DESCARTES teaches how to reach this end inthe following injunctions:-

I. In his counselling a preliminary Doubt; forby this the mind throws offthe influence of author­ity which leads us to think a thing in' accordancewith what others have thought, and thus to judgeof a thing not from an actual inspection of it, butfrom the view of it taken by others. Authoritythus interposes a barrier between thought and itsmatter. The power of thought, indeed, in beingcompletely subject to authority, is altogether re­pressed in its action: the mind is wholly passive.It was thus that DESCARTES, to secure the freeoutgoing of the faculties of knowledge in thesearch after truth, counselled a general doubt.

2. DESCARTES seeks to allow to the faculties ofknowledge perfect action in his precept to shun

llfTBODUOTION. xxxi

Precipitancy (R. I.): for this tendency cominginto exercise while we are conducting a processof thought, stays the process prematurely, andthus determines judgments not in accordance withthe matter of our thought.

3. The same is true of his precept to include inour judgments such matter alone as is clearly anddistinctly presented (R. I.): and his doctrine oferror points also to the necessity of the perfectaction of our faculties of knowledge; for error,according to DESOARTES, arises when we includein our judgments objects obscurely and indistinctlythought.

It ought to be observed that the terms clearnessand distinctness, as used by DESCARTBS, do notrelate, except in the most general manner, to thequalities of Notions Proper, that is, to the productsof the Faculty of Comparison. They refer to thecharacter of the matter of any of the cognitivefaculties, though the object known be consideredonly in itself that is, simply as possessing certainqualities, and without relation to other objects,with which it may possess qualities -in common.Thus viewed, these terms and their opposites, theobscure and indistinct, express merely a higherand lower degree of consciousness, of cognitiveactivity, in some degree or other of which objectsare known, are only known.

That such is the meaning of DESOARTES may beeasily evinced.

For, (1,) he considers the clear and distinct asequivalent to the real in thought, and their op-

xxxii INTRODUCTIOl(.

posites as participating of negation and arisingfrom our imperfection.-

According to this doctrine, the clear and distinctmust be held as equivalent to a certain degree ofconsciousness, and the obscure and indistinct asequivalent to the absence of this degree: For,first, thought is only real or actual when it existsin a determinate degree. And hence, secondly,as the obscure is a negation, it must be a negation,as the opposite of the clear, of the real in thought,and, therefore, of a determinate degree of con­sciousness. The obscure and indistinct thus arisein the absence or negation of adequate cognitiveaction.

(2,) We have an explicit declaration of the na­ture of the clear and the distinct by DBSCA.RTBS, inwhich these terms are made to refer exclusivelyto the degree of cognitive activity. ccClammvoco illam, (he says,) quse menti attendenti pm­sens et aperta est; sicut ea cla~ a nobis videri .dicimus, qum oculo intuenti prresentia, IatiB!O'I'­titer et aper~ iUum movent. Distinctam autemillam, qum, cum clara sit, ab omnibus aliis ita se­juncta est et prsecise, ut nihil plane aliud, quamquod clarum est, in se contineat."-Prin. Phil.P. P. § 45; see also § 46. From this statementit is plain that the clear is that which stimulatesto free and full cognitive activity.

The resolution of DBSOARTES, therefore, to ac­cept nothing but what was clearly and distinctlypresented, was taken with a view to secure the

• Discourse on Method, pp. 80, 81; see also Med. IV. pa88i111.

UfIB01>UCTION. xxxiii

most perfect activity of the faculties of know­ledge.

4. The same is true of the precept (which is insubordination to the preceding), to sunder com­plex objects, and consider their qualities separate­ly (Ra. II., Ill) This precept is necessary onlybecause the activity of our faculties of knowledgeis limited; because our power is not infinite. Itis owing to our limitations that objects whosequalities are numerous cannot be at once com­passed in their totality, without being vaguelyand indistinctly apprehended. The extension ofour activity is in an inverse ratio to its intension.Hence if we would secure adequate and completecognitive activity, we must seek the qualities ofobjects in succession, i. B., we must decompose oranalyse, and embrace at a time only so much ascan be compassed with facility.

5. The same end is sought in his precept tomake complete enumerations and general reviews(R. IV.) to prevent the omission or overlooking ofany element in the matter of our knowledge.This precept, when observed, will of course securethe full action of the faculties of knowledge; forwhen any element in a particular matter or objectof thought is overlooked, this object is not fullybut partially thought: as, on the contrary, anobject is fully thought when thought withoutomission of any of its constituenta."

• The reader may compare with this view of the CartesianMethod what BACON says of the importance of the removal of ob­stacles from the exercise of the faculties. See Nov. Org. Bk.T, § ISO.

xxxiv l1\~ltODUCTI0N.

Thus far of the Cartesian Method in its priorhalf and in its application. But in order accu­rately to fix the character of the Method of DES­

OA.RTES, we must take into account its latter orfinal part.

VI. As in the prior half of his MethodDESOARTES seeks principles, and makes the dis­covery of such the terminating point of his Ana­lysis; 80 in the latter half he proceeds fromprinciples, making the most remote conclu­sions from these the terminating point of hisSynthesis.. The regulative principle of the Cartesian pro­cedure in the establishment of the reasons ofindividual pheenomena is the relation of truths asReasons and Consequents. From what is givenintuitively, he essays to reach by demonstrationthe extreme limits of Philosophy, that is, to con­struct a system of reasons. It is thus that, thoughDBSOARTBS recommended and practised a returnto observation and experiment in the interest ofPhilosophy, his mode of reaching the highestprinciples of Science is far from being identicalwith the Baconian. This and the Cartesian are,in truth, at opposite poles. With BACON, thehighest principles of Science are merely the mostextensive generalizations, and form the terminat­ing point of his investigation. With DBSCARTES,on the contrary, the highest laws are ungene­ralized, are in themselves, and independently ofany elaboration, principles of universal extent,and form the starting-point of demonstration.

INTRODUCTION. xxxv

With the former, these laws are the products ofthe Elaborative Faculty, and are reached by lead­ing this, that, and the other fact, to unity; evolvingthus out of the particular and the contingent theuniversal With the latter, these laws are notproducts at all, for they are not formed, butgiven in consciousness, and discovered by Ana­lysis. They are thus intuitive and immediate,and by intuition and demonstration does DE8­

<JARTBS essay to construct Philosophy.s. To the high generality of the principles of theCartesian Synthesis, taken in conjunction withhis non..discrimination of the twofold import ofhis criterion of truth, is, perhaps, to be attributedthe most daring of the philosopher'serrora-s-Das­OARTEShas not analysed his criterion of truth intoits ultimate elements,norean he besaid accuratelyto have determined its sphere. He has not dis- .tinguished, though including both under clearknowledge, that knowledge given in the agree­ment of one thought with another, and thatafforded in the harmony of a thought with itsobject. This is manifest from his adherence tothe Ontological Demonstration of the existenceof the Absolute. This demonstration founds onthe concept or notion of GOD, which includesnecessary existence; and from the notion alone,as possessed of this character, determines thatGOD or the Absolute is really existent. It thusassumes that the thinking of a thing in harmony

• See the MetAod, P. VI.

xxxvi INTRODUCTION.

with the laws of thought is a sufficient guaranteeof the real existence of the thing, in other words,of the matter of the thought. In the presentinstance, the demonstration proceeds on theprinciple of identity j for merely because GOD isthought under the notion necessary existence, inother words, because it is clearly thought thatthe notion is equal to its character or itself, it isconcluded that Deity is really existent. Suchprocedure in identifying what is possible inthought with what is actual in existence is ofcourse wholly illegitimate.-

• The demoDstration to which referenee is here made is siveJl atlength in Mad. V. See also Resp. ad Sec. Obj., towards the end.DESCARTES explicitly makes it a corollary fJtom his criterion of truth.It ought to be observed, that DESCARTES gives Ii.. demonstrationsof the existence of God: none of which, howevm-,he has fullyela­borated in the M«1otl. Thefirlt in order of these, as given in theMethod, founds upon the existence of the notion of the Perfeet inrelation to that of the Imperfect. A limited being, according toDESCARTES, cannot be the cause either formal or emineBt of the ex­istence of this notion. Its only adequate cause is an Absolute Being :hence, as the notion existl, the cause, i.s., GoD,must also exist.

The notions of the Infinite and Finite neceesarilyarise in thelimited being; but it is not on its neeessity, nor even on the positivecharacter of the notion of the Infinite, that DESCARTES founds hisdemonstration. He denies indeed that the Infinite in thought i.positive. The Infinite, according to DESCARTES, is thought only bynegation of the Finite.

Through this demonstration DESCABTBS arrives for the fint timeat the knowledge of somewhat dUferent from the tbinking lubjecLThe Cartesian Non-Ego is thus not matter, but GOD.

In the second proof, DESCARTES founds on the fact of our exist­ence and its limitation ; and infers tbat there is a sustainer 0.ground of dependence, by whose act we at first commenced to exist,and by whose power, manifested in acts repeated from moment tomoment, we continue to exist.

The tkird proof is the Ontological. Tbis is referred to in the tex~.

INTRODUCTION. xxxvii

With reference to the Cartesian Synthesis, it isat the same time deserving of notice, that how­ever inapplicable such procedure, when allowedto predominate, may be in the real sciences, it isyet of strict and legitimate application in theformal, to the full extent of its employment byDBSCARTES. Thus Logic is, in its last details,but the evolution of what is given in a fixednumber of ungeneralized universal laws; and,as a formal science, is wholly superior to genel·­alization.

Thus far of the Cartesian Method, and of suchof the results of the Method as serve to illustrateits nature and application.

In order, however, adequately to determine theplace of DBSOARTES in the History of Speculation,we must know not only his Method, but the re­sults of his Method, that is, his Philosophy. Asa statement and criticism of the philosophicalsystem of DESOARTES is for the present impossible,it may be proper, in room of this, to give, in con­clusion, a faint outline of the course and characterof the philosophical activity which Cartesianismhas elicited."

To the philosophy of DESCARTES are due the

See Method, p. 79. On the Arguments of DESCARTES for the Exist­ence of Deity, consult COUSIN'S Lectures on KANT. Lee. VI., Log.Transcendentale.

• For the results ot the l\IETBOD of DESCARTFS, the Meditatiouespecially should be CODsulted-a work which M. CoUSIN pronounces" one of the most beautiful and solid monuments of philosophicalgenius." A translation of the Meditations, as a sequel to the .1~fet1lod,

may, it circumstances seem to call for it, be in due time given to thepublic.

xxxviii INTBODUCTIOX.

cardinal doctrines in the systems of MALBBBAlfOHB,

SPINOZA, and LEIBNITZ.

1. From the Cartesian dogma, that GOD has ao­corded to created Substance no principle of sub­sistence, and that the existence of each substance,from moment to moment, is due to the renewalin each moment of the creative act of Deity,.the further doctrine, that GOD likewise determinesthe phsenomena, or actual state of each substance,is but slightly removed: and this latter doctrineis precisely that of Occasional Causes, or the doc­trine which makes Deity the sole and immediatecause of each change that takes place in thecreature; and this is the fundamental dogma inthe Philosophy of MALBBRANCHE.

2. Again, the doctrine that Deity is the sole andimmediate cause of every change in the universe,taken in conjunction with the identification byDBSCARTES, whether merely seeming or real, ofsubstance with its fundamental attribute,t andthereby, the virtual negation of substance, leadsobviously to the doctrine that there is, in truth,but 8 single substance and a single cause, ofwhich all things are but the passing modes andchanging effects. This dogma is the fundamentalposition of Pantheism; and thus it is that thephilosophy of DESOARTES had the effect of 'pavingthe way for Spinozism.

3.The philosophies ofMALBBRANcBB andSPINoZAgave rise, in the way of corrective, to that of

• See especially Med. III. p. 23. (Ed. 1663.)t Seeespecially Prin. Pbil. p. p. § 63.

INTRODUCTION. xxxix.

LIIBNITZ, who, by identifying Substance andForce, sought to give a principle of subsistenceto created substances; and thus to vindicate tothe finite a real as opposed to & phsenomenalexistence.

But Cartesianism stands related to subsequentthinking, not only by the development of itspositive doctrines, but likewise by the continu­ance in the current of subsequent speculation ofits exclusive tendency.

4. The main,the ruling tendencyofCartesianism,is to Rationalism and Idealism, and by this char­acter it has, in a very marked manner, influencedand determined the current of subsequent specu­lation.

By Rationalism in Philosophy is to be under­stood the taking into account those elements orconditions of knowledge which, in the act ofknowledge, are the contribution of the thinkingsubject itself Every Philosophy is to the extentof its recognition of such elements Rationalist.The term is, however, more generally employedto denote, in addition to the simple recognitionof such elements, the attribution to them of anundue importance or rank, 80 as to exclude a dueregard to, or even the recognition of such ele­ments as, in the act ~of knowledge, arise from theobject. In this latter and abusive sense the termis applicable to Oartesianism ; for the tendency,as a whole and in general, of the Philosophy ofDESCARTES, is to elevate the purely subjectiveelements of knowledge above the objective,-the

xl INTRODUCTION.

native above the adventitious. In this respectthe Philosophy of DESOARTES and that of LOOKEare at opposite poles. LOCKE'S extreme, indeed,was principally determined by the opposite ex­treme of DESCARTES.

Idealism, when taken in its narrower sense,and not as equivalent to Rationalism, is merelya special form of the latter; for it denotes thedoctrine according to which matter is merely aneduct from mind. Rationalism, in this special ma­nifestation, is involved in Cartesianism; for it fol­lows, from the denial of the contemporaneousness

'of the knowledge of mind and matter, and theascription of priority to the knowledge of mind:and such ascription of priority is made by DES­CARTES to the virtual exclusion of the possibilityof the knowledge of matter. The process by whichDBSOARTES essays to demonstrate the existence ofmatter is, of course, paralogous. All modern Ideal­ism has its source in DESOARTES.

The Rationalist and Ideal tendency of Carte­sianism is manifested in higher development inMALBBRANOHB, SPINOZA, LEIBNITZ, BERKELEY, theLeibnitzian WOLF; and, indeed, in the generaltenor of the Philosophy that was dominant inthe Schools of Europe until the complete ascen­dency of Empiricism, through the Essay of LOOKE,on the death of WOLF in 1754. From this periodCartesianism, as a system or body of philosophicaldoctrines, gave place to the Sensuous Philosophyof LOOKB, which, in its tum, was the prevalentphilosophy until exhausted in RUBE. Since then

UITRODtiCTlON. xli

Lockianism has been on the wane; and in roomof the Sensuous Philosophy, the ruling is againthe Rationalist, which, with all the elaborationsof more modem thinkers, is, in substance, Car­tesian.

J. v.

[PREFATORY NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.]

IF this Discourse appear too long to be read at once,it may be divided into six parts: and, in the first, will

be found various considerations touching the Sciences;

in the second, the principal rules of the Method whichthe Author has discovered; in the third, certain of therules of Morals which he has deduced from this Method;

in the fourth, the reasonings by which he establishesthe existence of God and of the Human Soul, which arethe foundations of his lletaphysic; in the fifth, theorder of the Physical questions which he has investi­

gated, and in particular the explication of the motionof the heart and of some other difficulties pertaining

to Medicine, 88 also the difference between the soul ofman and that of the brutes; and in the last, what the

Author believes to be required in order to greater ad­vancement in the investigation of Nature than has yet

been made, with the reasons that have induced him towrite.

j

I

1j

Ji

r:

I!

DISCOURSE ON METHOD.

PART I.

GOOD SENSE is, of all things among men, the mostequally distributed; for everyone thinks himself 80

abundantly provided with it, that those even who arethe most difficult to satisfy in everything else, do notusually desire a larger measure of this quality thanthey already possess. And in this it is not likely thatall are mistaken: the conviction is rather to be heldas testifying that the power of judging aright andof distinguishing Truth from Error, which is properlywhat is called Good Sense or Reason, is by nature equalin all men; and thnt the diversity of our opinions, con­seque'ntly, does not arise from some being endowed with1\ larger share of reason than others, but solely fromthis, that we conduct our thoughts along different waYtl,and do Dot fix our attention on the same objects, Forto be possessed of a vigorous mind is not enough; theprime requisite is rightly to apply it. The greatestminds, as they are capable of the highest excellencies"are open likewiseto the greatest aberrations; and those

c

46 DISCOURSE .

who travel very slowly may yet make far greater pro­gress, provided they keep always to the straight road,than those who, while they run, forsake it.

For myself, I have never fancied my mind to be inany respect more perfect than those of the generality;on the contrary, I have often wished that I were equalto some others in promptitude of thought, or in clear­ness and distinctness of imagination, or in fulness andreadiness of memory. And besides these, I know ofno other qualities that contribute to the perfection ofthe mind; for as to the Reason or Sense, inasmuch asit is that alone which constitutes us men, and distin­guishes us from the brutes, I am disposed to believe thatit is to be found complete in each individual; and onthis point to adopt the common opinion of philosophers,who say that the difference of greater and less holdsonly among the accidents, and not among the forma orfUJtures of individuals of the same 3pecies.

I will not hesitate, however, to avow my belief thatit has been my singular good fortune to have very earlyin life fallen in with certain tracks which have con­ducted me to considerations and maxims, of which Ihave formed a Method that gives me the means, 88 Ithink, of gradually augmenting my knowledge, and ofraising it by little and little to the highest point whichthe mediocrity of my talents and the brief duration ofmy life will permit me to reach. For I have alreadyreaped from it such fruits that, although I have beenaccustomed to think lowly enough of myself and al­though when I look with the eye of a philosopher atthe varied courses and pursuits of mankind at large, Ifind scarcely one which does not appear vain and use­less, I nevertheless derive the highest satisfaction fromthe progress I conceive myself to have already made

ON HETHOD. 47

in the search after truth, and cannot help entertainingsuch expectations of the future as to believe that if,among the occupations of men as men, there is anyonereally excellent and important, it is that which I havechosen.

:After all, it is possible I may be mistaken; and it isbut a little copper and glass, perhaps, that I take forgold and diamonds. I know how very liable we areto delusion in what relates to ourselves, and also howmuch the judgments of our friends are to be suspectedwhen given in our favour. But I shall endeavour inthisDiscourse to describe the paths I have followed, andto delineate my life as in a picture, in order that eachone may be able to judge of them for himself, and thatin the general opinion entertained of them, as gatheredfrom current report, I myself may have a new helptowards instruction to be added to those I have beenin the habi t of employing,

My present design, then, is not to teach the Methodwbich each ought to follow for the right conduct of hisReason, but solely to describe the way in which I haveendeavoured to conduct my own, .They who setthemselves to give precepts must of course regardthemselves as possessed of greater skill than those towhom they prescribe; and if they err in the slightestparticular, they subject themselves to censure. But asthis Tract is put forth merely as a history, or, if youwill, 8S a tale, in which, amid some examples worthy ofimitation, there will be found, perhaps, as many morewhich it were advisable not to follow, I hope it willprove useful to some without being hurtful to any, andthat Iny openness will find some favour with all,

From my childhood, I have been familiar with let­ters; and as I was given to believe that by their help

48 DIS€OURSE

a clear and certain knowledge of all that is useful in'life might be acquired, I was ardently desirous of in­struction. But as soon as I had finished the entirecourse of study, at the close of which it is customary tobe admitted into the order of the learned, I completelychanged my opinion. For I found myself involvedin so many doubts and errors, that I was convinced Ihad advanced DO farther in all my attempts at learning,than the discovery at every turn of my own-ignorance,And yet I was studying in one of the most celebratedSchools in Europe, in which I thought there most belearned men, if such were anywhere to be found. Ihad been taught all that others learned there; and notcontented with the sciences actually taught us, I had,in addition, read all the books that had fallen into myhands, treating of such branches as are esteemed themost curious and pare. I knew the judgment whichothers had formed of me; and I did not find that Iwas considered inferior to my fellows, although therewere among them some who were already marked outto fill the plaees of our instructors. And, in fine, ourage appeared to me as flourishing, and as fertile inpowerful minds-88 any preceding one. I was thus ledto take the liberty of judging of all other men by my­self, and of concluding that there was no science inexistence that was of such a nature as I had previouslybeen given to believe.

I still continued, howe:ver, to hold in esteem thestudies of the Schools. I was aware that the Languagestaught in them are necessary to the understanding of thewritings of the ancients; that the grace of Fable stirs themind; that the memorable- deeds of History elevate it ;and, ifread with discretion, aid in formingthejudgment;that the perusal of all excellent books is, 88 it were, an

ON IlETBOB. 49

·iljterview with the noblest men of past ages, who havewritten them, and even a studied interview, in whichare discovered to us only their choicest thoughts; thatEloquence has incomparable force and beauty; thatPoesy has its ravishing graces and delights; that in theMathematics there are many refined discoveries emi­nently suited to gratify the inquisitive, 88 well as fur­ther an the arts and lessen the labour of man; thatnumerous highly useful precepts and exhortations tovirtue are contained in treatises on Morals; that Theo­logy points out the path to heaven; that Philosophyaffords the means of discoursing with an appearance oftruth on all matters, and commands the admiration ofthe more simple; that Jurisprudence, Medicine, andthe other Sciences, secure for their cultivators honoursand riches; and, in nne, that it is useful to bestowsome attention upon all, even upon those aboundingthe most in superstition and error, that we may be ina position to determine their real value, and guardagainst being deceived.

But I believed ~hat I had already given sufficientume to Languages, and likewise to the reading of thewritings of the-ancients, to their Histories and Fables.For to .hold converse with those of other ages and totravel, are almost the same thing. It is useful to knowsomething of the manners of different nations, that wemay be enabled to form a more correct judgment re..garding our own, and be prevented from thinking thateverything contrary to our customs is ridiculous and'irrational,-a conclusion usually come to by thosewhose experience has been limited to their own coon­try. On the other hand, when too much time is occu­pied in travelling, we become strangers to our nativecountry; and .the over curious in the customs of the

50 DISCOURSE

past are generally ignorant of those of the present.Besides, .fictitious narratives lead us to imagine thepossibility of many events that are impossible; andeven the most faithful histories, if they do not whollymisrepresent matters, or exa.ggerate their importa.nceto render the account of them more worthy of perusal,omit, at least, almost always the meanest and leaststriking of the attendant circumstances; hence it hap­pens that the remainder does not represent the truth,and that such as regulate their conduct by examplesdrawn from this source, are apt to fall into the extrava­gances of the knight-errants of Romance, and to en­tertain projects that exceed their powers.

I esteemed Eloquence highly, and was in raptureswith Poesy; but I thought that both were gifts of'nature rather than fruits of study. Those in whomthe faculty of Reason is predominant, and who mostskilfully dispose their thoughts with a view to ren­der them clear and intelligible, are always the bestable to persuade others of the truth of what they laydown, though they should speak only in the languageof Lower Brittany, and be wholly ignorant of the rulesof Rhetoric; and those whose minds are stored withthe most agreeable fancies, and who can give expres­sion to them with the greatest embellishment and har­mony, are stil] the best poets, though unacquaintedwith the Art of Poetry.

I was especially delighted with the Mathematics, onaccount of the certitude and evidence of their reason ...ings: but I had not as yet 8 precise knowledge oftheir true use; and thinking that they but contributedto the advancement of the mechanical arts, I was as­tonished that foundations, so strong and solid, shouldhave had no loftier superstructure reared on them,

ON'HETHOD. 51

.",

On the other hand, I compared the disquisitions of theancient Moralists to very towering and magnificentpalaces with no better foundation than sand and mud:they laud the virtues very highly, and exhibit them asestimable far above anything on earth; but they giveU8 no adequate criterion of virtue, and frequently thatwhich they designate with so fine a name is but apathy,or pride, or despair, or parricide.

I revered our Theology, and aspired 8S much as anyone to reach heaven: but being given assuredly tounderstand that the way is not less open to the mostignorant than to the most learned, and that the re­vealed truths which lead to heaven are above ourcomprehension, I did not presume to subject them tothe impotency of my Reason; and I thought that inorder competently to undertake their examination,there was need of some special help from heaven, andof being more than man.

orPhilosophy I will say nothing, except that whenI saw that it had been cultivated for many ages by themost distinguished men, and that yet there is not asingle matter within its sphere which is Dot still indispute, and nothing, therefore, which is above doubt,I did not presume to anticipate that my success wouldbe greater in it than that of others; and further, whenI considered the number of conflicting opinions touch­ing a single matter that may be upheld by learnedmen, while there can be but one true, I reckoned aswell-nigh false all that was only probable.

As to the other Sciences, inasmuch as these borrowtheir principles from Philosophy, I judged that no solidsuperstructures could be reared 011 foundations so in­firm; and neither the honour nor the gain held out bythem was sufficient to determine me to their cultiva-

52 DISCOURSE

tion: for I was not, thank heaven, in a conditionwhich compelled me to make merchandise of Sciencefor the bettering of my fortune; and though I mightnot profess to scorn glory as a Cynie, I yet made veryslight account of that honour which I hoped to acquireonly through fictitious titles. And, in fine, of falseSciences I thought I knew the worth sufficiently toescape being deceived by the professions of an alche­mist, the predictions of an astrologer, the impossures ofa magician, or by the artifices and boasting of 8Dy ofthose who profess to know things of which they areignorant.

For these reasons, as 800n as my age permitted meto pass from under the control of my instructors, I en­tirely abandoned the study of letters, and resolved nolonger to seek any other science than the knowledgeof myself or of the great book of the world. I spentthe remainder of my youth in travelling, in visitingcourts and armies, in holding intercourse with men ofdifferent dispositions and ranks, in collecting variedexperience, in proving myself in the different situa­tions into which fortune threw me, and, above all, inmaking such reflection on the matter of my experi­ence, as to secure my improvement. For it oceurredto me that I should find much more truth in the rea­sonings of each individual with reference to the affairsin which he is personally interested, and the issue ofwhich must presently punish him if he has judgedamiss, than in those conducted by a man of letters inhis study, regarding speculative matters that are of nopractical moment, and followed by DO consequences tohimself farther, perhaps, than that they foster hisvanity the better the more remote they are from com­mon sense; req airing, as they must in this case, the

·ox°HETHell. 53

•

•

;exeJ'cise of greater ingenuity and art to render themprobable. In addition, I had always a most earnestdesire to know how to distinguish the true from thefalset in order that I might be able clearly to discrimi­.aate the right path in life, and proceed in it with eon­.fldenee,

It is true that, while busied only in eonsidering themanners of other men, I feund here, too, scarce anygrooncl for settled conviction, and remarked hardlyless contradiction among them than in the opinions ofthe philosophers. So that the greatest advantage I.derlved from the study conaisted in this, that, observ­ing many things which, however extravagant and.ridiculous to our apprehension, are yet by commoneonsent received and approved by other great nations,I Jeamed to entertain too decided a belief in regard tonothing of the truth of which I had been persuaded.merely by example and custom: and thus I graduallyextricated myself from ma~y errors powerful enoughto darken our Natural Intelligence, and incapacitate usin great measure from listening to Reason. But afterI had been occupied several years in thus studying thebook of the world, and in essaying to gather some ex­perience, I at length resolved to make myself an objectof study, and to employ all the powers of my mind inchoosing the paths I ought to follow; an undertaking:which was accompanied with greater success than itwould have been had I never quitted my country ormy books•

02

54 DISCOURSE

PART II.

I WAS then in Germany, attracted thither by thewars in that country, which have not yet been broughtto a termination; and as I was returning to the armyfrom the coronation of the Emperor, the setting in ofwinter arrested me in a locality where, as I found nosociety to interest me, and was besides fortunately un­disturbed by any cares or passions, I remained thewhole day in seclusion,- with full opportunity to occupymy attention with my own thoughts. Of these one ofthe very first that occurred to me was, that there isseldom so much perfection in works composed of manyseparate parts, upon which different hands have beenemployed, as in those completed by a single master.Thus it is observable that the buildings which a singlearchitect has planned and executed, are generally moreelegant and commodious than those which several haveattempted to improve, by making old walls serve forpurposes for which they were not originally built.Thus also, those ancient cities which, from being atfirst only villages, have become, in course of time, largetowns, are usually but ill laid out compared with theregularly constructed towns which a professional archi­tect has freely planned on an open plain; 80 that al-

• Literally, in a room heated by means of a stove.-Tr.

ON IIETBOD. 56

though the several buildings of the former may oftenequal or surpass in beauty those of the latter, yet whenone observes their indiscriminate juxtaposition, therea large one and here a small, and the consequent crook­edness and irregularity of the streets, one is disposed toallege that chance rather than any human will guidedby reason, must have led to such an arrangement. Andif we consider that nevertheless there have been at alltimes certain officers whose duty it was to see thatprivate buildings contributed to public ornament, thedifficulty of reaching high perfection with but the ma­terials of others to operate on, will be readily acknow­ledged. In the same way I fancied that those nationswhich, starting from a semi-barbarous state and ad­vancing to civilisation by slow degrees, have had theirlaws successively determined, and, as it were, forced uponthem simply by experience of the hurtfulness of par­ticular crimes and disputes, would by this process cometo be possessed of less perfect institutions than thosewhicb, from the commencement of their association 88

communities, have followed the appointments of somewise legislator. It is thus quite certain that the consti­tution of the true religion, the ordinances of which arederived from God, must be incomparably superior tothat of every other. And, to speak of human affairs,I believe that the past pre-eminence of Sparta was duenot to the goodness of each of its laws in particular,for many of these were very strange, and even opposedto good morals; but to the circumstance that, originatedby a single individual, they all tended to a single end.In the same way I thought that the sciences containedin books, (such of them at least as are made up of pro­bable reasonings, without demonstrations,) composedas they are of the opinions of many different individuals

DI8COURSIJ

massed together, are farther removed from math thattthe simple inferences which a man of good sense usiDghis natural and unprejudiced judgment draws respect­ing the matters of his experience. And because wehave all to p888 through a state of infancy to manhood,and have been of necessity, for a length of time, go­verned by our desires and preceptors, (whose dicate8were frequently conflicting, while neithes perhaps al­ways counselled us for the best.) I fartherconcludedthat it is almost impossible that our judgments can beso correct or solid as they would have been, had oueReason been mature from the moment of our birth, andhad we always been guided by it alone.

It is true, however, that it is not customary to Pulldown all the houses of a town with the single design ofrebuilding them differently, and thereby rendering thestreets more handsome; but it often happens that aprivate individual takes down his own with the view oferecting it anew, and that people are even sometimesconstrained to this when their houses are in danger offalling from age, or when the foundations are insecure,With this before me by way of example, I was per­suaded that it would indeed be preposterous for a pri­vate individual to think of reforming a state by fonda­mentally changing it throughout, and overturning itin order to set it up amended] and the same I thoughtwas true of any similar project for reforming the bodyof the Sciences, or the order of teaching them estab­lished in the Schools: but aa for the opinions which upto that time I had embraced, I thought tllat I couldnot do better than resolve at once to sweep them whollyaway, that I might afterwards be in a position to admiteither others more correct, or even perhaps the lamewhen they had undergone the scrutiny of Reason. 1

ON )lBTHOD. 67

Srmly believed that in tbis way I should much bettersuaeeed in the conduct of my life, thaD if I built onlyupon old foundations, and leant upon principles which,in my youth, I had taken upon trust. For altaough Irecognised various difficulties in this undertaking, thesewere not, however, without remedy, nor once to becompared with such 88 attend the slightel\t reformationin public affairs. Large bodies, if once overthrown,are with ·great difficulty.set up again, or even kept erectwhen once seriously sl1a.ken, and the fall of such is al­ways disastrous. Then if there are any imperfectionsin the constitutions of states, (and that many Bachexist .the diversity of constitutions is alone sufficient to assureus,) custom has without doubt materially smoothed theirmconveniencies, and has even managed to steer alto­gether clear of or insensibly corrected a number whichsagacity could not have provided against with equaleffect; and, in .fine, the defects are almost always moretolerable than the change necessary for their removal;i.n the same manner that highways which wind amongmountains, by being much frequented, become gradu­ally 80 smooth and commodious, that it is much betterse follow them than to seek a straighter path by climb­ing over the tops of ~OCk8 and descending to the bot-toms of precipices. .

Hence it is tllat I cannot in any degree approve ofthose restless and busy meddlers, who, called neitherby birth nor fortune so take part in the managementof public affairs, u-e yet always prQjeeting reforms;and if I thought that this Tract contained aught whichmight justify the .suspicion that I was a victim of suchfolly, I would by no means permit its publication. Ihave never contemplated anything higher than the re­formaaQD of my own opinions, and basing them on a

58 DISCOURSE

foundation wholly my own. And although my ownsatisfaction with my work has led me to present here adraft of it, I do not by any means therefore recommendto everyone else to make a similar attempt. Thosewhom God has endowed with a larger measure ofgenius will entertain, perhaps, designs still more ex­alted; but for the many I am much afraid lest eventhe present undertaking be more than they can safelyventure to imitate. The single design to strip one's selfof all past beliefs is one that ought not to be taken byevery one. The majority of men is composed of twoclasses, for neither of which would this be at all a be­fitting resolution: in thefirst place, of those who withmore than a due confidence in their own powers, areprecipitate in their judgments and want the patiencerequisite for orderly and circumspect thinking; whenceIt-happens, that if men of this class once take the libertyto doubt of their accustomed opinions, and quit thebeaten highway, they will never be able to thread thebyeway that would lead them by a shorter course, andwill lose themselves and continue to wander for life;in the second place, of those who, possessed of sufficientsense or modesty to determine that there are otherswho excel them in the power of discriminating betweentruth and error, and by whom they may be instructed,ought rather to content themselves with the opinionsof such than trust for more correct to their own Reason.

For my own part, I should doubtless have belongedto the latter class, had I received instruction from butone master, or had I never known the diversities ofopinion that from time immemorial have prevailedamong men of the greatest learning. But I had be­come aware, even so early as during my college life,that no opinion, however absurd and incredible, can

ON JlETHOD. 59

be imagined, which has not been maintained by someone of the philosophers; and afterwards in the courseof my travels I remarked that all those whose opinionsare decidedly repugnant to ours are not on that accountbarbarian8 and savages, but on the contrary that manyof these nations make an equally good, if Dot a better,use of their Reason than we do. I took into accountalso the very different character which a person broughtup from infancy in France or Germany exhibits, fromthat which, with the same mind originally, this indi­vidual would have possessed had he lived always amongthe Chinese or with savages, and the circumstancethat in dress itself the fashion which pleased us tenyears ago, and which may again perhaps be receivedinto favour before ten years have gone, appears to usat this moment extravagant and ridiculous. I was thusled to infer that the ground of our opinions is tar morecustom and example than any certain knowledge. And,finally, although such be the ground of our opinions, Iremarked that a plurality of suffrages is DO guaranteeof truth where it is at all of difficult discovery, as insuch cases it is much more likely that it will be foundby one than by many. I could, however, select fromthe crowd no one whose opinions seemed worthy ofpreference, and thus I foond myself constrained, 8S itwere, to use my own Reason in the conduct of my life.

But like one walking alone and in the dark, I re­solved to proceed 80 slowly and with such circumspec­tion, that if I did not advance far, I would at least guardagainst falling. . I did not even choose to dismiss sum­marily any -of the opinions that had crept into my be­lief without having been introduced by Reason, but firstof all took Auflicient time carefully to satisfy myself orthe general nature of the task I was setting myself, and

60 DISCOURSE

ucertain the true Method by which to arrive at .theknowledge of whatever lay within the compus of mypowers.

Among the branches of Philosophy, I had, at aD ear­lier period, given some attention to Logie, and amongthose of-the Mathematics to Geometrical Analysis andA1gebra,--tbreeArts or.Sciences which ought, as leon..ceived, to contribute something to my design. But, OIl

. examination, I found that, as for Logic, its syllogismsand the majority of its otber preeepts are of asail ratherin the communication of what we already kaow, oreven &8 the Art ofLully, in speaking :without judgmentof things of which we are ignorant, than in the inves..tigation of the unknown; and although tbis Sciencecontains indeed a number of correct and very excellentprecepts, there are, nevertheless, 80 many others, andthese either injurious or superfluous, mingled with theformer, that it is almost quite as difficult to effect aseverance of the true from the false 8S it is so extraeta Diana or a Minerva from a rough block of marble.Then 88 to the Analysis ofthe ancients and the Algebraof the modems, besides that they embrace only mattershighly abstract, and, to appearance, of no use, the for..mer is 80 exclusively restricted to·the consideration of,figures, that it can exercise the Understanding only oncondition of greatly fatiguing the Imagination j. and, inthelatter, there is so complete a subjection to certainrules and formulas, that there results an art full of con..fusion and obscurity calculated to embarrass, instead ofa science fitted to cultivate the mind. By these con­siderations I was induced to seek some other Methodwhich would comprise the advantages of the three and-• The Imagination must here be taken as equivalent simply-to the

Representative Faoultla-Tr.

05.£THOD• 61

• exempt from their defects, And 88 a multitude oflaws often only hampers justice, 80 that a state is bestgoverned when, with few laws, these are rigidly ad­ministered; in like manner, instead of the great nnm­her of precepts of which Logic is composed, I believedthat the four following would prove perfectly sufficientfor me, provided I took the firm and unwavering resolu­tien never in a single instance to fail in observing them.

The first was never U> accept anything for truewhich I did Dot clearly know to be such; that is to.y, carefully te avoid precipitancy and prejudice, andto comprise nothing more in my judgment than whatwas presented to my mind 80 clearly and distinctlyuto exclude all ground of doubt.

The second, to divide each of the difficulties underexamination into as many parts as possible, and asmight be necessary for its adequate solution.

The third, to conduct my thoughts in such order that,by commencing with objects the simplest and easiestto know, I might ascend by little and little, and, as itwere, step by step, to the knowledge of the morecomplex; assigning in thought a certain order even tothose objects which in their own nature do not standill a relation of antecedence and sequence.

And the last, in every case to make enumerations socomplete, and reviews so general, that I might be as..sured that nothing was omitted.

The long chains ef simple and easy reasonings bymeans of which geometers are accustomed to reach theconclusions of their most difficult demonstrations, hadled me to imagine that all things, the knowledge ofwhich is competent to man, are mutually connected inthe same way, and that there is nothing so far removedfrom us as to be beyond our reach, or so hidden that

62 DISOOURSE

we cannot discover it, provided only we abstain fromaccepting the false for the true, and always preserve inour thoughts the order necessary for the deduction ofone truth from another. And I had little difficulty indetermining the objects with which it was necessary tocommence, for I was already persuaded that it must bewith the simplest and easiest to know, and, consideringthat of all those who have hitherto sought truth in theSciences, the mathematicians alone have been able tofind any demonstrations, that is, any certain and evi­dent reasons, I did not doubt but that such must have­been the rule of their investigations. I resolved tocommence, therefore, with the examination of the sim­plest objects, not anticipating, however, from this anyother advantage than that to be found in accustomingmy mind to the love and nourishment of troth, and toa distaste for all such reasonings as were unsound. ButI had no intention on that account of attempting tomaster all the particular Sciences commonly denomi­nated Mathematics: butobserving that, however differenttheir objects, they all agree in considering only thevarious relations or proportions 8Ubsisting among thoseobjects, I thought it best for my purpose to considerthese proportions in the most general form possible,without referring them to any objects in particular,except such 8S would most facilitate the knowledge ofthem, and without by any means restricting them tothese, that afterwards I might thus be the better able toapply them to every other class of objects to which theyare legitimately applicable. Perceiving further, thatin order to understand these relations I should some­times have to consider them one by one, and sometimesonly to bear them in mind, or embrace them in theaggregate, I thought that, in order the better to eon-

ON METHOD. 68

sider them individually, I should view them as subsist­ing between straight lines, than which I could find noobjects more simple, or capable of being more distinctlyrepresented to my imagination and senses; and' on theother hand, that in order to retain them in the memory,or embrace an aggregate of many, I should expressthem by certain characters the briefest possible. Inthis way I believed that I could borrow all that wasbest both in Geometrical Analysis and in Algebra, andcorrect all the defects of the one by help of the other.

And, in point of fact, the accurate observance ofthese few precepts gave me, I take the liberty of say­ing, such ease in unravelling all the questions embracedin these two sciences, that in the two or three monthsI devoted to their examination, not only did I reachsolutions of questions I had formerly deemed exceed­ingly difficult, but even as regards questions of the so­lution of which I continued ignorant, I was enabled,as it appeared to me, to determine the means whereby,and the extent to which, a solution was possible; re­sults attributable to the circumstance that I commencedwith the simplest and most general truths) and thatthus each truth discovered was a rule available in thediscovery of subsequent ones. Nor in this perhaps shallI appear 'too vain, if it be considered, that 8S the truthon any particular point is one, whoever apprehends thetruth, knows all that on that point can -be known. Thechild, for example, who has been instructed in the ele..ments of Arithmetic, and has made a particular addition,according to rule, may be assured that be has found,with respect to the sum of the numbers before him, allthat in this instance is within the reach of humangenius. Now, in conclusion, the Method which teachesadherence to the true order, and an exact enumeration

BISCOURSE

of all the conditions of the thing sought includes allthat gives certitude to the rules of Arithmetic.

But the chief ground of my satisfaction with thisMethod, was the assurance, I had of thereby exercisingmy reason in all matters, if not with absolute perfec..tion, at least with the greatest attainable by me: be­sides, I was conscious that by its use my mind wasbecoming gradually habituated to clearer and moredistinct 'conceptions of its objects; and I hoped also,from not having restricted this Method to any particularmatter, to apply it te the difficulties of the otherSciences,with not less success than to those of Algebra. I shouldnot, howev-er, 'on this account have ventured at onceon the examination of all the difficulties of the Scienceswhich presented themselves to me, for this would havebeen contrary to the order prescribed in the Method,but observing that the knowledge of such is dependenton principles borrowed from Philosophy, in which Ifound nothing certain, I thought it necessary first ofall to endeavour to establish its principles. And be­cause I observed, besides, that an inquiry of this kind wasof all others of the greatest moment, and one in whichprecipitancy and anticipation in judgment were mostto be dreaded, I thought that I ought not to approachit till I had reached a more mature age, (be ing at thattime but twenty-three,) and had first of all employedmuch of my time in preparation for the work, 8S wellby eradicating from my mind all the erroneous opinionsI had up to that moment accepted, 8S by amassingvariety of experience to afford materials for my rea­sonings, and by continually exercising myself in mychosen Method with a view to increased skill in itsapplication.

ON METRO-D.

PART III.

AND, finally, ae it is not enough, before commenci-ngto rebuild the house in which we live, that it be pulleddown, and materials and builders provided, or that weengage in the work ourselves, accorclingto a plan whichwe have beforehand carefully drawn out, but 88 it islikewise necessary that we be furnished with some otherhouse in which we may live commodiously during theoperations, so that I might not remain irresolute inmy actions, while my Reason compelled me to suspend-my judgment, and that I might not be prevented fromliving thenceforward in the greatest possible felicity, Iformed a provisory code of Morals, composed of threeor four maxims, with which I am desirous to makeyou acquainted.

Thefirst was to obey the laws and customs of mycountry, adhering firmly to the Faith in which, by thegrace of God, I had been educated from my childhood,and regulating my conduct in every other matter ac­cording to the most moderate opinions, and the farthestremoved from extremes, which should happen to beadopted in practice with general consent of the mostjudicious of those among whom I might be living. For,as I had from that time begun to hold my own opinionsfor nought because i wished to subject them all to ex-

66 DISCOURSE

amination, I was convinced that I could not do betterthan follow in the meantime the opinions of the mostjudicious; and although there are some perhaps amongthe Persians and Chinese as judicious as among our..selves, expediency seemed to dictate that I should re­gulate my practice conformably to the opinions of thosewith whom I should have to live; and it appeared tome that, in order to ascertain the real opinions of such,I ought rather to take cognizance of what they prae­',tised than of what they said, not only because, in thecorruption of our manners, there are few disposed tospeak exactly 8S they believe, but also because verymany are not aware of what it is that they reallybelieve; for, as the act of mind by whieh a thing isbelieved is different from that by which we know thatwe believe it, the one act is often found without theother. Also, amid many opinions held in equal repute, Ichose always the most moderate, as much for the reasonthat these are always the most convenient for prac­tice, and probably the best, (for all excess is generallyvieious.) as that, in the event of my falling into error,I might be at less distance from the truth than i~ hav­ing chosen one of the extremes, it should turn out tobe the other which I ought to have adopted. And Iplaced in the class of extremes especially all promisesby.which somewhat of our freedom is abridged; notthat I disapproved of the laws which, to provide againstthe instability of men of feeble resolution, when whatis sought to be accomplished is some good, permit en­gagements by vows and contracts binding the partiesto persevere in it, or even, for the security of com­merce, sanction similar engagements where the purposesought to be realized is indifferent e but because I didDot find anything on earth which was wholly superior

ON METHOD. 67

·to change, and because, for myself in particular, Ihoped gradually to perfect my judgments, and not tosuffer them to deteriorate, I would have deemed it agrave sin against good sense, if, for the reason that Iapproved of something at a particular time, I thereforebound myself to hold it for good at a subsequent time,when perhaps it had ceased to be so, or I had ceasedto esteem it such.

My second maxim was to be 8S firm and resolutein my actions as I was able, and not to adhere lesssteadfastly to the most doubtful opinions, when onceadopted, than if they had been highly certain; imitat­ing in this the example of travellers who, when theyhave lost their way in a forest, ought not to wanderfrom side to side, far less remain in one place, butproceed constantly towards the same side in as straighta line 8S possible, without changing their direction forslight reaSODS, although perhaps it might be chancealone which at first determined the selection; for inthis way, if they do not exactly reach the point theydesire, they will come at least in the end to some placethat will probably be preferable" to the middle of 8

forest. In the same way, since in action it frequentlyhappens that no delay is permissible, it is very certainthat, when it is not in our power to determine what istrue, we ought to act according to what is most pro­bable; and even although we should not remark agreater probability in one opinion than in another, weought notwithstanding to choose one or the other, andafterwards consider it, in so far as it relates to practice,as no longer dubious, but manifestly true and certain,since the reason by which our choice has been deter­mined is itself possessed of these qualities. This prin­ciple was sufficient thenceforward to rid me of all .those

6'8 DISCOURSE

repentings and pangs of remorse that uBually disturbthe consciences of such feeble and uncertain minds as,destitute of any clear and determinate principle ofchoice, allow sbemselves one day to adopt a course ofaction as the best, which they abandon the next, 88

the opposite.My thIrd maxim was to endeavour always to COD­

quer myself rather than fortune, and change my desiresrather than the order of the world, and in general,accustom myself to the persuaaion that, except our ownthoughts, there is nothing absolutely in our power; sothat when we have done our best in respect of thingsexternal to us, all wherein we fail of auecese is to beheld, as regards U8, absolutely impossible: and thissingle principle seemed to me 8ufficient to prevent mefrom desiring for the future anything which I couldnot obtain, and thus render me contented; for &inceour will naturally seeks those objects alone which theunderstanding represents as in some way possible ofattainment, it is plain, that if we consider all externalgoods as equally beyond our power, we shall no moreregret the absence of such goods 88 seem due to ourbirth, when deprived of them without an-yfault of ours,than our not possessing the kingdoms of China orMexico; and thus making, so to speak, a virtue ofnecessity, we shall no more desire health in disease,or freedom in imprisonment, than we now do bodiesincorruptible as diamonds, or the wiJ:ags of birds to flywith. But I confess there is need of prolonged dis-­cipline and frequently repeated meditation to accustomthe mind to view all objects in this light; and I believethat in this chiefly consisted the secret of the power ofsuch philosophere as in former times were enabled torise superior to the influence of fortune, and, amid suf-

OK KETROD. 69

fering and poverty, enjoy a happiness which their godsmight have envied. For, occupied incessantly withthe consideration of the limits prescribed to their powerby nature, they became so entirely convinced that. no­thing WaR at their disposal except their own thoughts,that this COD viction was of itself sufficient to preventtheir eutertaining any desire of other objects; andover their thoughts they acquired a sway so absolute,that they had some ground on this account for esteem­ing themselves more rich and more powerful, more freeand more happy, than other men who, whatever bethe favours heaped on them by nature and fortun.e, ifdestitute of this philosophy, can never command therealization of all their desires.

In fine,' to conclude this code of Morals, I thought ofreviewing the different occupations of men in this life,with the view. of making choice of the best. And,without wishing to offer any remarks on the employ­ments of others, I may state that it was my convictionthat I could Dot do better than continue in that inwhich I was engaged, viz., in devoting my whole lifeto the culture of my Beason, and ~ making the greatestprogress I was able in the knowledge of truth, on theprinciples of the Method which I had prescribed tomyself: This Method, from the time I had begun toapply it, had been to me the source of satisfaction sointense as to lead me to believe that more perfect ormore innocent could not be enjoyed in this life; and88 by its means I daily discovered truths that ap-.peared to me of some importance, and of which othermen were geDer~lly ignorant, the gratification thencearising 80 occupied my mind that I was wholly indif­ferent to every other object. Besides, the three pre­eeding maxims were founded singly on the design of

D

70 DISCOURSE

continuing the work of self-instruction. For since Godhas endowed each of us with some Light of Beason bywhich to distinguish truth from error, I could not havebelieved that I ought for a single moment to rest satisfiedwith the opinions of another, unless I had resolved toexercise my own judgment in examining these when­ever I should be daly qualified for the task. NorcouldI have proceeded on such opinions without scruple, hadI supposed that I should thereby forfeit any advantagefor attaining still more accurate, should such exist.

.And, in fine, I could not have restrained my desires,nor remained satisfied, had I not followed a path inwhich I thought myself certain of attaining all theknowledge to the acquisition of which I was competent,as well 88 the largest amount of what is truly goodwhich I could ever hope to secure. Inasmuch as weneither seek nor shun any object except in so far 8S

our understanding represents it as good or bad, all thatis necessary to right action is right judgment, and tothe best action the most correct judgment,-that is, tothe acquisition of all the virtues with all else that istruly valuable and within our reach; and the assur­ance of such an acquisition cannot fail to render us con­tented.

Having thus provided myself with these maxims,and having placed them in reserve along with thetruths of Faith, which have ever occupied the firstplace in my belief I came to the conclusion that Imight with freedom set about ridding myself of whatremained of my opinions. And, inasmuch 8S I hopedto bebetter able successfully to accomplish this work byholding intercourse with mankind, than by remaininglonger shut up in the retirement where these thoughtshad occurred to me, I betook me again to travelling

ON METHOD. 71

before the winter was well ended. And, during thenine subsequent years, I did nothing bot roam fromone place to another, desirous of being a spectator ra­ther than an actor in the plays exibited on the theatreof the world; and, as I made it my business in eachmatter to reflect particularly upon what might fairlybe doubted and prove a source of error, I graduallyrooted out from my mind all the errors which hadhitherto crept into it. Not that in this I imitated theSceptics who doubt only that they may doubt, and seeknothing beyond uncertainty itself; for. on the contrary,my design was singly to find ground ofassurance, andcast aside the loose earth and sand, that I might reachthe rock or the clay. In this, 88 appears to me, I wassuccessful enough; for, since I endeavoured to discoverthe falsehood or incertitude of the propositions I exa­mined, not by feeble conjectures, but by clear and cer­tain reasonings, I met with nothing so doubtful as notto yield some conclusion of adequate certainty, althoughthis were merely the inference, that the matter in ques­tion contained nothing certain. And, just as in pullingdown an old house, we usually reserve the ruins tocontribute towards the erection, 80, in destroying suchof my opinions 88 I judged to be ill-founded, I made 8

variety of observations and acquired an amount of ex­perience of which I availed myself in the establishmentof more certain. And further, I continued to exercisemyself in the Method I had prescribed; for, besidestaking care in general to conduct all my thoughts ac­cording to its rules, I reserved some hours from timeto time which I expressly devoted to the employmentof the Method in the solution of Mathematical diffi­culties, or even in the solution likewise of some ques­tions belonging to other Sciences, but which, by my

72 DISCOURSE

haviDg detached them from such principles of theseSciences as were of inadequate certainty, were renderedalmost Mathematical: the truth of this will be mani­fest from the numerous examples contained in thisvolume." And thus, without in appearance living other­wise than those who, with no other occupation thanthat of spending I their lives agreeably and innocently,study to sever pleasure from vice, and who, that theymay enjoy their leisure without ennui, have recourseto such pursuits as are honourable, I was neverthelessprosecuting my design, and making greater progress inthe knowledge of truth, than I might, perhaps, havemade had I been engaged in the perusal of boob mere­ly, or in holding converse with men of letters.

These nine years passed away, however, before I hadcome to any determinate judgment respecting the di:8i­collies which form matter of dispute among the learned,or had commenced to seek the principles of any Philo­sophy more certain than the vulgar. And the examplesof many men of the highest genius, who had, in formertimes, engaged in this inquiry, but, as appeared to me,without sueeess, led me to imagine it to be a work of 80

much difliculty, dud I would not perhaps have venturedon it 80 soon had I not heard it ClIITeDtly rumoured dudI had already completed the inquiry. I know not whatwere the grounds or this opinion; and, if'my CODVerD­

1ion eontributed in an)'me&SOI'e to i1.srL~ this must hafthappened rather from myharingCODfesedmyignonneewith greater freedom than those are a~1EloDledto dowho have studied a 1iuIe, and apoanded, perhaps, theI'f:IISOm dud led me to doob& of man,. of those thiDp

• '1M ~_.edlod~ ..-..,............•~ ..............G-..,. S-"'Ja~~p.t..-rr.

ON IIE'rIIOD. 73

that by others are esteemed certain, than from myhaving boasted of any system of Philosophy. But, asI am of a disposition that makes me unwilling to beesteemed different from what I really am, I thought itnecessary to endeavour by all means to render myselfworthy of the reputation accorded to me; and it isnow exactly eight years since this desire constrainedme to remove from all those places where interruptionfrom any of my acquaintances was possible, and betakemyself to this country,* in which the long duration ofthe war has led to the establishment of such discipline,that the armies maintained seem to be of use only inenabling the inhabitants to enjoy more- securely theblessings of peace; and where, in the midst of a greatcrowd actively engaged in business, and more carefulof their own affairs than curious about those of others,I have been enabled to live without being deprived ofany of the conveniences to be had in the most populouscities, and yet 88 solitary and as retired 88 in the midstof the most remote deserts.

* Holland; to which country he withdrew in 1629.-Tr.

14 DISCOURSE

PART IV.

I AJ[ in doubt as to the propriety of'making my 1irsimeditations in the place above mentioned matter of dis­course; for these are 80 metaphysical, and 80 uneom­mon, as not, perhaps, to be acceptable to every one.And yet, that it may be determined whether the foun­dations that I have laid are sufficiently secure, I findmyself in a measure constrained to advert to them. Ihad long before remarked that, in relation to practice,it is sometimes necessary to adopt, &8 if above doubt,opinions which we discem to be highly unceriai., ashas been already said; but 88 I then desired to givemy attention solely to the search after troth, I thooghithat a procedure exactly the opposite was called for,and that I ought to reject 88 absolutely false all opi­nions in regard to which I could suppose the leastground for doubt, in order to ascertain whether afterthat there remained aught in my belief that was whollyindubitable. Accordingly, seeing that our senses some­times deceive us, I was willing to suppose that thereexisted nothing really such 88 they presented to U8;

and because some men err in reasoning, and fall intoparslogisme, even on the simplest matters of Geometry,I, convinced that I was 88 open to error &8 any other,rejected as false all the reasonings I had hitherto

ON MBTHOD. 75

taken for demonstrations; and nnally, when I COD­

sidered that the very same thoughts (presentations)which we experience when awake may also be expe­rienced when we are asleep, while there is at thattime not one of them true, I supposed that all the ob­jects (presentations) that had ever entered into mymind when awake, had in them 00 more truth thanthe illusions of my dreams. Bot immediately uponthis I observed that, whilst I thus wished to thinkthat all was false, it was absolutely necessary that I,who thus thought, should be somewhat; and as lob­served that this truth, I think, 1umce I am, was 80 certainand of such evidence, that no ground of doubt, how­ever extravagant, could be alleged by the Scepticscapable of shaking it, I concluded that I might, with-

"out scruple, accept it as the nrst principle of thePhilosophy of which I was in search.

In the next place, I attentively examined what Iwas, and as I observed that I could suppose that I hadDO body, and that there was no world nor any placein which.I might be; but that I could not thereforesuppose that I was not; and that, on the contrary,from the very circumstance that I thought to doubt ofthe truth of other things, it most clearly and certainlyfollowed that I was; while, on the other hand, if Ihad only ceased to think, although all the other ob·jects which I had ever imagined had been in realityexistent, I would have had no reason to believe that Iexisted; I thence concluded that I was a substancewhose whole essence or nature consists only in think ..ing, and which, that it may exist, has need of DO

place, nor is dependent on any material thing; so that" I," that is to say, the mind by which I am what Iam, is wholly distinct from the body, and is even more

76 DISCOURSE

easily known than the latter, and is such, that althoughthe latter were not, it would still continue to be allthat it is.

After this I inquired in general into what is essen­tial to the troth and certainty of 8 proposition; forsince ·1 had discovered. one which I knew &0 be true, Ithought that I must likewise" be able to discover theground of this certitude. And as I observed that inthe words I t}u'nk, hence I am, there is nothing at allwhich gives me assurance of their truth beyond this,that 1 see very clearly that in order to think it isnecessary to exist, I concluded that I might take, asa general rule, the principle, that all the things which"we very clearly and distinctly conceive are true, onlyobserving, however, that there is some difficulty inrightly determining the objects which we distinctlyconceive.

In the next place, from relIecting on the circum­stance that I doubted, and that consequently my beingwas not wholly perfect, (for I clearly saw that it wasa greater perfection t-o know than to doubt,) I was ledto inquire whence I had learned to think of something.more perfect than myself; and I clearly recognisedthat I must hold this notion from some Nature whichin reality was more perfect. As for the thoughts ofmany other objects external to me, as of the sky, theearth, light, heat, and a thousand more, I was less ata loss to know whence these came; for since I re­marked in them nothing which seemed to render themsuperior to myself, I could believe that, if these weretrue, they were dependencies on my own nature, in sofar as it possessed a certain perfection, and; if theywere false, that I held them from nothing, that is tosay, that they were in me because of a certain imper-

ON KETROD. 77

fection of my nature. But this could not be the casewith the idea of a Nature more perfect than myself;for to receive it from nothing W88 a thing manifestlyimpossible; and, because it is not less repugnant thatthe more perfect should be an effect of, and dependenceon the lese perfect, than that something should proceedfrom nothing, it was equally impossible that I couldhold it from myself: aecordingly, it but remained thatit had been placed in me by a Nature which was inreality more perfect than mine, and which even pos­sessed within itself all the perfections of which I couldform aoy i~ea; that is to say, in a single word, whichwas God. And to this I added that, since I knewsome perfections which I did not possess, I was notthe only being in existence, (I will here, with yourpermission, freely use the terms of the schools); but,on the contrary, that there was of necessity someother more perfect Being upon whom I was dependent,and from whom I had received all that 1 possessed;for if I had existed alone, and independently of everyother being, 80 as to have had from myself all the per­fection, however little, which I actually possessed, Ishould have been able, for the same reason, to havehad from myself the whole remainder of perfection, ofthe want of which I was conscious, and thus could ofmyself have become infinite, eternal, immutable, omni­scient, all..powerful, and, in fine, have possessed all theperfections which I could recognise in God. For inorder to know the nature of God, (whose existencehas been established by the preceding reasonings,) 8S

far as my own nature permitted, I had only to con­sider in reference to all the properties of which I foundin my mind some idea, whether their possession was amark of perfection; and I was assured that no one

n2

78 DISOOURSE

which indicated any imperfection wu in him, and thatnone of the rest was awanting. Thus I perceivedthat doubt, inconstancy, sadness, and such like, eouldnot be found in God, since I myself would have. beenhappy to be free from them. Besides, I had ideas ofmany sensible and corporeal things; for although Imight suppose that I was dreaming, and that all whichI saw or imagined was false, I could not, nevertheless,deny that the ideas were in reality in my thoughts.But, because I bad already very clearly recognised inmyself that the intelligent nature is distinct from thecorporeal, and as I observed that all composition is anevidence of dependency, and that a state of dependencyis manifestly a state of imperfection, I therefore deter­mined that it could not be a perfection in God to becompounded of these two natures, and that consequentlyhe was not 80 compounded; but that if there were anybodies in the world, or even any intelligences, or othernatures that were not wholly perfect, their existencedepended on his power in such a way that they couldnot subsist without him for a single moment.

I was disposed straightway to search for other trutbs;and when I had represented. to myself the object of thegeometers, which I conceived to be a continuous body,or a space indefinitely extended in length, breadth, andheight or depth, divisible into divers parts which ad­mit of different figures and sizes, and of being moved

- or transposed in all manner of ways, (for all this thegeometers suppose to be in the object they eontem­plate,) I went over some of their simplest demonstra­tions. And, in the firStplace, I observed, that the greatcertitude which by common consent is accorded to thesedemonstrations, is founded solely upon this, that theyare clearly conceived in accordance with the rules I

ON JOTBOD. 79

have alreadylaid down. In the next place, I perceivedthat there W88 nothing at all in these demonstratiODIwhich could assure me of the existence of their object:thUJ, for example, supposing a triangle to be given, Idistinctly perceived that its three angles were neces­sarily equal to two right angles, but I did not on thataccount perceive anything which could assure me thatany triangle existed: while, on the contrary, recuning&0 the examination of the idea of a Perfect Being, Ifound that the existence of the Being was comprised inthe idea in the same way that the equality of itsthree angles to two right angles is comprised in theidea of a triangle, or as in the idea of a sphere, theequidietanee of all points OD its surface from the centre,or even still more clearly; and that consequently it isat least 88 certain that God, who is this Perfect Being,is, or exists, 88 any demonstration of Geometry can be.

Bot the reason which leads many to persuade them­selves that there is a di1Iiculty in knowing this truth,and even also in knowing what their mind really is,is that they never raise their thoughts above sensibleobjects, and are 80 accustomed to consider nothingexcept by way of imagination, which is a mode ofthinking limited to material objects, that all that is notimaginable seems to them not intelligible. The truthof this is,8ufficiently manifest from the single circum­stance, that the philosophers of the Schools accept as ·a maxim that there is nothing in the Understandingwhich was not previously in the Senses, in which how­ever it is certain that the ideas of God and of the soulhave never been; and it appears to me that they whomake use of their imagination to comprehend theseideas do exactly the same thing as if, in order to hearsounds or smell odours, they strove to avail themselves

80 DISOOURSE

of their eyes; unless indeed that there is this dHference,that the sense of sight does not afford us an inferiorassurance to those of smell or hearing; in plaice ofwhich, neither our imagination nor our senses can giveus assurance of anything unless our Understanding in­tervene.

Finally, if there be still persons who are not 8uffi­ciently persuaded of the existence of God and of thesoul, by the reasons I have adduced, I am desirousthat they should know that all the other propositions,of the truth of which they deem themselves perhapsmore assured, as that we have a body, and that thereexist stars and an earth, and such like, are less certain;for, although we have a moral assurance of these things,which is so strong that there is an appearance of ex­travagance in doubting of their existence, yet at thesame time no one, unless his intellect is impaired, candeny, when the question relates to a metaphysical cer­titude, that there is sufficient reason to exclude entireassurance, in the observation that when asleep we canin the same way imagine ourselves possessedof anotherbody and that we see other stars and another earth,when there is nothing of the kind. For how do weknow that the thoughts wbich occur in dreaming arefalse rather than those other which we experience whenawake, since the former are often not less vivid anddistinct than the latter! And though men of thehighest genius study this question as long as theyplease, I do not believe that they will be able to giveany reason which can be sufficient to remove thisdoubt, unless they presuppose the existence of God.For, in the first place, even the principle which I havealready taken as a rule, viz., that all the things whichwe clearly and distinctly conceive are true, is certain

ON METHOD. 81

only because God is or exists, and because he is a Per­fect Being, and because all that we .possess is derivedfrom him: whence it follows that our ideas or notions,which to the extent of their clearness and distinctnessare real, and proceed from God, must to that extent betrue. Accordingly, whereas we not unfrequently haveideas or notions in which some falsity is contained, thiscan only be the case with such as are to some extentconfused and obscure, and in this proceed from nothing,(participate of negation,) that is, exist in us thus con­fused because we are not wholly.perfect. And it isevident that it is not less repugnant that falsity or im­perfection, in so far as it is imperfection, should pro­ceed from God, than that truth or perfection shouldproceed from nothing. But if we did not know thatall which we possess of real and true proceeds from aPerfect and Infinite Being, however clear and distinct.our ideas might be, we should have no ground on thataccount for the assurance that they possessed the per­fection of being true.

Bot after the knowledge of God and of the soul hasrendered us certain of this rule, we can easily under­stand that the truth of the thoughts we experiencewhen awake, ought Dot in the slightest degree tobe called in question on account of the illusions ofour dreams. For if it happened that an individual,even when asleep, had some very distinct idea, as, forexample, if a geometer should discover some new de­monstration, the circumstance of his being asleep wouldnot militate against its truth; and as for the most or­dinary error of our dreams, which consists in theirrepresenting to us various objects in the same wayas our external senses, this is not prejudicial, since itleads us very properly to suspect the truth of the ideas

82 DISCOURSE

of sense; for we are not unfrequently deceived in thesame manner when awake; as when persons in thejaundice see all objects yellow, or when the stars orbodies at a great distance appear to us much smallerthan they are. For, in fine, whether awake or asleep,we ought never to allow ourselves to be persuaded ofthe truth of anything unless on the evidence of ourReason. And it must be noted that I say of our Reason,and not of our imagination or of'our senses: thus, forexample, although we very clearly see the SUD, weought not therefore to determine that it is only of thesize which our sense of sight presents; and we may'lery distinctly imagine the head of a lion joined to thebody of a goat, without being therefore shut up to theconclusion that a chimeera exists; for it is not a dictateof Reason that what we thus see or imagine is in realityexistent; but it plainly tells us that all our ideas ornotions contain in them some truth; for otherwise itcould not be that God, who is wholly perfect and vera­cious, should have placed them in us. And becauseour reasonings are never so clear or so complete duringsleep as when we are awake, although sometimes theacts of our imagination are then as lively and distinct,if not more 80 than in our waking moments, Reasonfurther dictates that, since all oor thoughts cannot betrue because of our partial imperfection, those pos­sessing truth must infallibly be found in the experienceof our waking moments rather ·than in that of oordreams.

ON KETHOD.

PART V.

83

I WOULD here willingly have proceeded to exhibitthe whole chain of truths which I deduced fromthese primary; but as with a view to this it wouldhave been necessary now to treat of many questions indispute among the learned, with whom I do not wishto be embroiled, I believe that it will be better for meto refrain from this exposition, and only mention ingeneral what these troths are, that the more judiciousmay be able to determine whether a more special ac­count of them would conduce to the public advantage.I have ever remained firm in my original resolution tosuppose no other principle than that of which I haverecently availed myself in demonstrating the existenceof Godand of the soul, and to accept as true nothing thatdid not appear to me more clear and certain than the de­monatratlons of the geometers had fonnerly appeared;and yet I venture to state that not only have I foundmeans to satisfy myselfin a short time on all the principaldifficulties which are usually treated of in Philoeophy,but I have also observed certain laws established innature by God in such a manner, and of which he hasimpressed on our minds such notions, that after wehave reflected sufficiently upon these, we cannot doubtthat they are accu~ately observ~d in all that exists or

84 DISCOURSE

takes place in the world: and farther, by consideringthe concatenation of these laws, it appears to me thatI have discovered many truths more useful and moreimportant than all I had before learned, or even hadexpected to learn.

But because I have essayed to expound the chief ofthese discoveries in a Treatise which certain considera­tions prevent me from publishing, I cannot make theresults known more conveniently than by here giving asummary of the contents of this Treatise. It was mydesign to comprise in it all that, before I set myself towrite it, I thought I knew of the nature of materialobjects. But like the painters who, finding themselvesunable to represent equally well on a plain surface allthe different faces of a solid body, select one of thechief, on which alone they make the light fall, andthrowing the rest into the shade, allow them to appearonly in so far as they can be seen while looking at theprincipal one; so, fearing lest I should not be able tocomprise in my discourse all that was in my mind, Iresolved to expound singly, though at considerablelength, my opinions regarding light; then to take theopportunity of adding something on the sun and thefixed stars, since light almost wholly proceeds fromthem; on the heavens since they transmit it; on theplanets, comets, and earth, since they reflect it; andparticularly on all the bodies that are upon the earth,since they are either coloured, or transparent, or lumi­nous; and finally on man, since be is the spectator ofthese objects. Further, to enable me to cast 'thisvariety of subjects somewhat into the shade, and toexpress my judgment regarding them with greaterfreedom, without being necessitated to adopt or refutethe opinions of the learned, I resolved to leave all the

ON IlETBOD. 85

people here to their disputes, and to speak only of whatwould happen in a new world, if God were now to

create somewhere In the imaginary spaces matter sum·eient to compose one, and were to agitate variously andconfusedly the different pam of this matter, so thatthere resulted a chaos as disordered as the poets everfeigned, and after that did nothing more than lend hisordinary concurrence to nature, and allow her to actin accordance with the laws which he had established.On this supposition, I, in the first place, described thismatter, and essayed to represent it in such a mannerthat to my mind there can be nothing clearer and moreintelligible, except what has been recently said regard­ing God and the soul; for I even expressly supposedthat it possessed none of those forms or qualities whichare 80 debated in the Schools, nor in general anythingthe knowledge of which is not 80 natural to our mindsthat no one .can so much 88 imagine himself ignorantof it. Besides, I have pointed out-what are the lawsof nature; and, with no other principle upon which tofound my 'reasonings except the infinite perfection ofGod, I endeavoured to demonstrate all those aboutwhich there could be any room for doubt, and to provethat they are such, that even if God had created moreworlds, there could have been none in which these lawswere not observed. Thereafter, I showed bow thegreatest part of the matter of this chaos must, in ac­cordance with these laws, dispose and arrange itself insuch a way as to present the appearance of heavens;bow in the meantime some of its parts must composean eartL and some planets and comets, and others asun and fixed stars. And, making a digression at thisstage on the subject of light, I expounded at consi­derable length what the nature of that light must be

86 DI8COCBSB

which is found in the 8IIIl and the sian, and how 1heDcein an iDsIant or &iDle it trav... the immen"8 8J*e8of the heaveD&, and how &om the pIaneta and eome&8

it is re4eded towuds the earth. To dDaI Iike..­lidded mach reapee&ing the sahllance, the sitoa1ioD, theJDOIioDS, and all the difFerent qualities of these hea98D8and 8Ian; 10 thai I &bought I had said enough IeIIpeC&­ing them to show thai there is DO&hing o1Jlervable in&he heaVeD8 or 8&an of our 8J8lem that m1l8& no&, or atleast may Dot appear pnci8ely alike in th088 of &hesystem which I deaeribed. I came neD to speak orthe ear&h in particular, and to show how, even thoughI hadexprell1y suppoeed that God had given no weighttD dle matter of which it is eompoeed, this should notprevent all its parts from tending exactly to ita centre;how with.water and air on ita nrCace, &he dispositionof &he heavens and heavenly bodies, more especially of&he moon, must eaaee a How and ebb, like in all itaeircamstanees to that observed in our 8e88, as also acertain current both of water and air from east to weat,8Uch88 is likewise observed between the tropics; howthe moontains, 8e88, fountains, and riven might 1Wo­

rally be formed in it, and the metals produced in themines, and the planta grow in the fields; and in gene­ral, how all the bodies which are commonly denomi­nated mixed or composite might be generated: and,among other things in the discoveries alluded to, inas­much as besides the stan, I knew nothing except firewhich produces light, I spared no pains to set forth allthat pertaill8 to its nature,-the manner of its produc­tion and support, and to explain how heat is sometimesfound without light, and light without heat; to showbow it can induce various colours upon different bodiesand other diverse qualities; how it reduces some to •

OK JIB'nIOD. 81

liqoid state and hardens others j how it can COD8UDl8

almost all bodies,or convert them into ashes and smoke;and finally, how from these ashes, by the mere inten­sity of its action, it forms g1als: for u this trsnsmuta­tion of ashes into glass appeared to me 88 wonderful uany other in nature, I took a special pleasure in de­scribing it.

I was not, however, disposed, from these circum·stances, to conclude that this world had been createdin the manner I deacribed; for it is much more likelythat God made it at the first such 88 it W88 to be. Butthis is certain, and an opinion commonly receivedamong theologians, that the action by which he nowsustains it is the same with that by which he originallycreated it; 80 that even althoogh he had from the be­ginning given it no other form than that of chaos, pro­vided only he had established certain laws of nature,and had lent it his concurrence to enable it to act 88

it is wont to do, it may be believed, without discre­dit to the miracle of creation, that, in this way alone,things purely material might, in course of time, havebecome such 8S we observe them at present; and theirnature is much more easily conceived when they arebeheld coming in this manner gradually into existence,than when they are only considered as produced at oncein a finished and perfect state.

From the description of inanimate bodies and plants,I passed to animals, and particularly to man. Butsince I had not as yet sufficient knowledge to enableme to treat of these in the same manner ~ of the rest,that is to say, by deducing effects from their causes,and by showing from what elements and in what man­ner Nature must produce them, I remained satisfiedwith the supposition that God formed the body of man

88 nrsootrasa

wholly like to one of ours, as well in the externalshape of the members as in the internal conformationof the organs, of the same matter with that I had de­scribed, and' at first placed in it no Rational Soul, norany other principle, in room of the Vegetative or Sen­sitive Soul, beyond kindling in the heart one of thosefires without light, such as I had already described, andwhich I thought was not different from the heat inhay that has been heaped together before it is dry, orthat which causes fermentation in new wines beforethey are run clear of the fruit. For, when I examinedthe kind of functions which might, as consequences ofthis supposition, exist in this body, I found preciselyall those which may exist in us independently of allpower of thinking, and consequently without being inany measure owing to the soul; in other words, to thatpart of us which is distinct from the body, and ofwhich it has been said above that the nature distine..tively consists in thinking,-functions in which theanimals void of Reason may be said wholly to resembleus; but among which I could not discover any of thosethat, as dependent on thought alone, belong to us asmen, while, on the other hand, I did afterwards dis­cover these as soon as I supposed God to have createda Rational Soul, and to have annexed it to this body ina particular manner which I described.

But, in order to show how I there handled this mat­ter, I mean here to give the explication of the motionof the heart and arteries, which, as the first and mostgeneral motion observed in animals, will afford themeans of readily determining what should be thoughtof all the rest. And that there may be less difficulty

.in 'understanding what I am about to say on ,this sub­ject, I advise those who are not versed in Anatomy,

ON METHOD. 89

before they commencethe perusal of these observations,to take the trouble of getting dissected in their presencethe heart of some large animal possessed of lungs, (forthis is throughout sufficiently like the human,) and tohave shewn to them its two ventricles or cavities: inthe first place, that in the right side, with which cor­respond two very ample tubes, viz., the hollow vein,(vena cava,) which is the principal receptacle of theblood, and the trunk of the tree, as it were, of whichall the other veins in the body are branches; and thearterial vein, (vena arteMosa,) inappropriately eo deno­minated, since it is in truth only an artery, which,taking its rise in the heart, is divided, after passing outfrom it into many branches which presently dispersethemselves all over the lungs; in the second place, thecavity in the left side with which correspond in thesame manner two canals in size equal to or larger thanthe preceding, viz., the venous artery, (arteria venosa,)likewise inappropriately thus designated, because it issimply a vein which comes from the lungs, where it isdivided into many branches, interlaced with those ofthe arterial vein, and those of the tube called thewindpipe, through which the air we breathe enters;and the great artery which, issuing from the heart,sends its branches all over the body. I should wishalso that such persons were carefully shewn the elevenpellicle's which, like so many small valves, open andshut the four orifices that are in these two cavities,viz., three at the entrance of the hollow vein, wherethey are disposed in such a manner as by no means toprevent the blood which it contains from :Bowing intothe right ventricle of the heart, and yet exactly toprevent its flowing out; three at the entrance to thearterial vein, which, arranged in a manner exactly the

90 DISCOURSE

opposite of the former, readily permit the blood con­tained in this cavity to pass into the lungs, but hinderthat contained in the lungs from returning to thiscavity; and, in like manner, two others at the mouthof the venous artery, which allow the blood from thelungs to flow into the left cavity of the heart, but pre­clude its retum; and three at the mouth of the greatartery, which suffer the blood to flow from the heart,but prevent its reflux. Nor do we need to seek anyother reason for the number of these pellieles beyondthis that the orifice of the venous artery being of anoval shape from the nature of its situation, can be ade­quately closed with two, whereas the others beinground are more conveniently closed with three. Be­sides, I wish such persons to observe that the grandartery and the arterial vein are of much harder andfirmer texture than the venous artery and the hollowvein; and that the two last expand before entering theheart, and there form, as it were, two pouches deno­minated the auricles of the heart, which are composedof a substance similar to that of the heart itself; andthat there is always more warmth in the heart than inany other part of the body; and, finally, that this heatis capable of causing any drop of blood that passesinto the cavities rapidly to expand and dilate, just asall liquors do when allowed to fall drop by drop intoa highly heated vessel.

For, after these things, it is not necessary for me tosay anything more with a view to explain the motionof the heart, except that when its cavities are not full ofblood, into these the blood of necessity flows,-from thehollow vein into the right, and from the venous arteryinto the left; because these two vessels are always fullof blood, and their orifices, which are tumed towards

ON HETBOD. 91

the heart, cannot then be closed. But 88 soon 88 twodrops of blood have thUR passed, one into each of thecavities, these' drops Vfhich cannot but be very large,because the orifices through which they pass are wide,and the vessels from which they come full of blood,are immediately rarefied, and dilated by the heat theymeet with. In this way they cause the whole heart toexpand, and at the same time press home and shut thefive small valves that are at the entrances of the twovessels from which they flow, and thus prevent anymore blood from coming down into the heart, and be­coming more and more rarefied, they posh open thesix small valves that are in the orifices of the other twovessels, through which they pass out, causing in thisway all the branches of the arterial· vein and of thegrand artery to expand almost simultaneously with theheart-which immediately thereafter begins to contract,as do also the arteries, because the blood that hasentered them haa cooled,and the six small valves close,and the five of the hollow vein and of the venousartery open anew and allow 8, passage to other twodrops of blood, which cause the heart and the arteriesagain to expand as before. And, because the bloodwhich thus enters into the heart passes through thesetwo pouches called auricles, it thence happens that theirmotion is the contrary of that of the heart, and thatwhen it expands they contract. But lest those who areignorant of the force of mathematical demonstrations,and who are not accustomed to distinguish true reasonsfrom mere verisimilitudes, should venture, without ex­amination, to deny what has been said, I wish it to beconsidered that the motion which I have now explainedfollows as necessarily from the very arrangement ofthe parts, which may be observed in the heart by the

92 DISCOURSE

eye alone, and from the heat which may be felt withthe fingers, and from the nature of the blood 8S learnedfrom experience, 8e does the motion of a clook fromthe power, the situation, and shape of ita connter­weights and wheels.

But if it be asked how it happens that the blood inthe veins, flowing in this way continually into theheart, is not exhausted, and why the arteries do Dotbecome too full, since all the blood which passesthrough the heart flows into them, I need only men­tion in reply what has been written by a physician­of England, who has the honour of having broken theice on this subject, and of having been the firs~ to teachthat there are many small passages at the extremities ofthe arteries, through which the blood received by themfrom the heart passes into the small branches of theveins, whence it again returns to the heart; 80 that itscourse amounts precisely to 8. perpetual circulation.Of thie we have abundant proof in the ordinary experi­ence of surgeons, who, by binding the arm with a tieof moderate atraimess above the part where they openthe vein, cause the blood to flow more copiously thanit would have done without any ligature; whereasquite the contrary would happen were they to bind itbelow; that is, between the hand and the opening, or .were to make the ligature above the opening verytight. For it is man~fe8t that the tie, moderatelystraitened, while adequate to hinder the blood alreadyin the arm from returning towards the heart by theveins, cannot on that account prevent new blood fromcoming forward through the arteries, because these aresituated below the veins, and their coverings, fromtheir greater consistency, are more difficult to com-

• Haney-Lat. Tr.

ONHETBOD. 93

press ; and also that the blood which comes from theheart tends to pass through them to the hand withgreater force than it does to return from the hand tothe heart through the veins. And since the lattercurrent escapes from the arm by the opening made inone of the veins, there must of necessity be certainpassages below the ligature, that is, towards the ex­tremities of the arm through which it can come thitherfrom the arteries. This physician likewise abundantlyestablishes what he has advanced respecting the motionof the blood, from the existence of certain pellicles, sodisposed in various places along the course of the veins,in the manner of small valves, as not to permit theblood to pBBS from the middle of the body towards theextremities, but only to return from the extremities tothe heart; and farther, from experience which shows

.that all the blood which is in the body may flow outof it in a very short time through a single artery thathas been cut, even although this had been closely tiedin the immediate neighbourhood of the heart, and cutbetween the heart and the ligature, 80 as to preventthe supposition that the blood flowing out of it couldcome from an,. other quarter than the heart.

But there ar~ many other circumstances which evincethat what I have alleged is the true cause of the motionof the blood: thus, in the first place, the differencethat is observed between the blood which flows fromthe veins, and that from the arteries, can only arisefrom this, that being rarefied, and, as it were, dis­tilled by passing through the heart, it is thinner, andmore vivid, and warmer immediately after leaving theheart, in other words, when in the arteries, than itwas a short time before passing into either, in otherwords, when it was in the veins; and if attention be

E

94 DISCOURSE

given, it will be found that this difference is verymarked only in the neighbourhood of the heart; andis not so evident in parts more remote from it. In thenext place, the consistency of the coats of which thearterial vein and the great artery are composed, 8Ufti­

ciently shows that the blood is impelled against themwith more force than against the veins. And whyshoald the left eavity of the heart and the great arterybe wider and larger than the right cavity and thearterial vein, were it not that the blood of the venousartery, having only been in the lungs after it has passedthrough the heart, is thinner, and rarefies more readily,and in a higher degree, than the blood which proceedsimmediately from the hollow vein' And what canphysicians conjecture from feeling the pulse unlessthey know that according as the blood changes itsnature it can be rarefied by the wannth of the heart,in a higher or lower degree, and more or less quicklythan before' And if it be inquired how this heat iscommunicated to the other members, must it not beadmitted that this is effected by means of the blood,which, passing through the heart, is there heated anew,and thence diffused over all the body' Whence ithappens, that if the blood be withdrawn from anypart, the heat is likewise withdrawn by the samemeans; and although the heart were as hot 88 glowingiron, it would Dot be capable of warming the feet andhands as at present, unless it continually sent thitherRew blood. We likewise perceive from this, that thetrue use of respiration is to bring sufficient fresh airinto the longs, to cause the blood which flow8 intothem from the right ventricle of the heart, where ithas been rarefied and, 8S it were, changed into vapour8,to become thick, and to convert it anew into blood,

ON IIETHOD. 95

berOTe it Sows into the left cavity, without which pro­cess it would be unfit for the nourishment of themethat is there. This receives confirmation from the cir­cumssanee, that it is observed of animals destitute oflungs that they have also but one cavity in the heart,and that in ohildren who cannot use them while inthe womb, there is a hole through which the bloodflows from the hollow vein into the left cavity of theheart, and a tube through which it passes from thearterial 'Vein into the grand artery without passingthrough the lung. In the next place, how could diges­tion be carried on in the stomach unless the heartcommunicated heat to it through the arteries, andalong with this certain of the more fluid parts of theblood, which assist in the dissolution of the food thathas been taken in , Is not also the operation whichconverts the juice of food into blood easily compre­hended, when it is considered that it is distilled bypassing and repassing through the heart perhaps morethan ODe or two hundred times in a day l And whatmore need be adduced to explain nutrition, and theproduction of the different humours of the body, be­yond saying, that the force with which the blood, inbeing rarefied, passes from the heart towards the ex­tremities of the arteries, causes certain of its parts toremain in the members at which they arrive, and thereoccupy the place of some others expelled by them;and that according to the situation, shape, or smallnessof the pores with which they meet, some rather thanothers llow into certain parts, in the same way thatsome sieves are observed to act, which, by being vari­oOMy perforated, serve to separate different species ofgrain' And, in the last place, what above all ishere worthy of observation, is the generation of the

DI800lJRSE

animal spiri.s t which are like a very.subtle wind, orra~hera very pure and vivid flame which, eontinu­ally sseendiag in great abundance from the, heart tothe' braia, thence penetrates through the nerves intothe muscles, and gives motion to all the members; 80

that to aecount for other parts of the blood which, 88

most agitated and penetrating, are the fittest to com­pose these spirits, proceeding towards the brain, it isnot necessary to suppose any other cause, than simply,that the arteries which carry them thither proceedfrom the heart in the most direct lines, and that, ac­cording to the rules of Mechanics, which are the samewith those.of Nature, when many objects tend at onceto the same point where there is not sufficient roomfor all, (as is the case with the parts of the blood whichflow forth from the left cavity of the heart and tendtowards the brain,) the weaker and less agitated partemust necessarily be driven aside from that point by thestronger which alone in this way reach it.

I had expounded all these matters with sufficientminuteness in the Treatise which I formerly thought ofpublishing. And after these, I had shewn what muatbe the-fabric of the nerves and muscles of the humanbody to give the animal spirits contained in it the powerto move the members, as when we see heads shortlyafter they have been struck off still move and bite theearth, although no longer animated; what changes.must take place in the brain to produce waking, sleep,and dreams; how light, sounds, odours, tastes, heat,and all theother qualities of external oqjects impressit with different ideas by means of the senses; howhunger, thirst, and the other internal affections canlikewise impress. upon it divers ideas; what must be

'dersf,Go"d by tbe eommon SeDSe (86B8U8 commun,;) ia

OK lIETIIOD. 97

whleh these ideas are received, by the memory wbiehretains them, by the fantasy which ean change themin various ways, and out of them compose DeW ideas,and which, by the same means, distributing the animalspirits through the muscles, can cause the members ofsuch a body to move in as many different ways, and ina manner 88 suited, whether" to the objects tha.t arepresented to its senses or to its Internal affections, ascan take place in our own case apart from the guid­ance of the will. Nor will this appear at all strangeto those who are acquainted with the variety of move­ments performed by the different automata, or movingmachines fabricated by human industry, and that withhelp of but few pieces compared with the great mul­titude of bones, muscles, nerves, arteries, veins, and

• other parts that are found in the body of each animal.Such persons will look upon this body as a machinemade by the hands of God, which is incomparablybetter arranged, and adequate to movements moreadmirable than is any machine of human invention.And here I specially stayed to show that, were theresuch maehines exactly resembling in organs and out ..ward form an ape or any other irrational animal, we'eenld have no means of knowing that they were in anyrespect of a different nature from these animals; butif there were machines bearing the image of our bodies,and capable of imitating our actions as far as it ismorally possible, there would still remain two mostcertain tests whereby to know that they were not there­fore really men. Of these the first is that they couldnever use words or other signs arranged in such amanner as is competent to us in order to declare ourthoughts .to others: for we may easily conceive ama­chine to be so constructed that it emits vocables, and

98 DISCOURSE

even that it emits some correspondent to the actionupon it of external objects which cause a change in itsorgans; for example, if touched in a particular place itmay demand what we wish to say to it; if in anotherit may cry out that it is hurt, and such like; but notthat it should arrange them variously 80 88 appositelyto reply to what is said in itspresence, as men of thelowest grade of intellect can do. The second test is,that although such machines might execute many thingswith equal or perhaps greater perfection than any ofus, they would, without doubt, fail in certain othersfrom which it could be discovered that they did not actfrom knowledge, but solely from the disposition of theirorgans: for while Reason is an universal instrumentthat is alike available on every occasion, these organs,on the contrary, need a particular arrangement for eachparticular action; whence it must be morally impos­sible that there should exist in any machine a diversityof organs sufficient to enable it to act in all the occur­rences of life, in the way in which our reason enablesU8 to act. Again, by means of these two tests we maylikewise know the difference between men and brutes.For it is highly deserving of remark, that there are nomen 80 duIl and stupid, not even idiots, as to be in­capable of joining together different words, and therebyconstructing a declaration by which to make theirthoughts understood; and that on the other hand, thereis no other animal, however perfect or happily circum­stanced which can do the like. Nor does this inabilityarise from want of organs: for we observe that mag­pies and parrots can utter words like ourselves, and areyet unable to speak 88 we do, that is, so 88 to showthat tbey understand what they say; in place of whichmen born deaf and dumb, and thus not less, but rather

ON KETROD. 99

more thy the brutes, destitute of the organs whichothers use in speaking, are in the habit of spontaneouslyinventing certain signs by which they discover theirthoughts to those who, being usually in their company,have leisure. to learn their language. And this provesnot only that the brutes have less Reason than man,but that they have none at all: for we see that verylittle is required to enable a person to speak; and sincea certain inequality of capacity is observable amonganimals of the same species, as well as among men,and since some are more capable of being instructedthan others, it is incredible that the most perfect apeor parrot of its species, should not in this be equal tothe most stopid infant of its kind, or at least to one thatwas crack-brained, unless the soul of brutes were of anature wholly different from ours,' And we ought notto confound speech with the natural movements whichindicate the passions, and can be imitated by machines88 well as manifested by animals; nor must it bethought with certain of the ancients, that the brutesspeak, although we do not understand their language.For if such were the case, since they are endowed withmany organs analogous to ours, they could 8S easilycommunicate their thoughts to us as to their fellows.It is also very worthy of remark, that, though there aremany animals which manifest more industry than wein certain of their actions, the same animals are yetobserved to show none at all in many others: so thatthe circumstance that they do better than we does notprove that they are endowed with mind, for it wouldthence follow that they possessed greater Reason thanany of us, and could surpass us in all things; on thecontrary, it rather proves that they are destitute ofReason, and that it is Nature which acts in them accord-

100 J>ISCOURSE

ing to the disposition of their organs: thus tit is seen,that a clock composed only of wheels and weights cannumber the hours and measure time more exactly thanwe with all our skill.

I had after this described the Reasonable Soul, andshewn that it could by no means be educed fromthe power of matter, as the other things of which I hadspoken, but that it must be expressly created; and thatit is not sufficient that it be lodged in the human bodyexactly like a pilot in a ship, unless perhaps to moveits members, but that it is necessary for it to be joinedand united more closely to the body, in order to havesensations and appetites similar to OUTS, and thus con­stitute a real mao. I here entered, in conclusion,upon the subject of the soul at considerable length, be­cause it is of the greatest moment: for after the errorof those who deny the existence of God, an error whichI think I have already sufficiently refuted, there isnone that is more powerful in leading feeble mindsastray from the straight path of virtue than the suppo­sition that the soul of the brutes is of the same naturewith our own; and consequently that after this life wehave nothing to' hope for or fear, more than flies andants; in place of which, when we know how far theydiffer we much better comprehend the reasons whichestablish that the soul is of a nature wholly indepen­dent of the body, and that consequently it is not liableto die with the latter; and, finally, because no othercauses are observed capable of destroying it, we arenaturally led thence to j udgethat it is immortal.

ON KETBOD.

PART VI.

101

THREE years have now elapsed since I finished theTreatise containing all these matters; and I was be..ginning to revise it, with the view to put it into thehands of a printer, when I learned that persons to whomI greatly defer, and whose authority over my actionsis hardly less influential than is my own Reason overmy thoughts, had condemned a certain doctrine inPhysics, published a short time previously by anotherIndividual," to which I will not say that I adhered,but only that, previously to their censure, I had ob­served in it nothing which I could imagine to be pre­judicial either to religion or to the state, and nothingtherefore which would have prevented me from givingexpression to it in writing, if Reason had persuadedme of its truth; and this led me to fear lest among myown doctrines likewise some one might be found inwhich I had departed from the truth, notwithstandingthe great care I have always taken not to accord beliefto new opinions of which I had not. the most certaindemonstrations, and not to give expression to aught thatmight tend to the hurt of anyone. This has beensufficient to make me alter my purpose of publishingthem; for although the reasons by which I had been

• Galileo.-Tr.E2

102 DISCOURSE

induced to take this resolution were very strong, yetmy inclination, which has always been hostile to writ­ing books, enabled me immediately to discover otherconsiderations sufficient to excuse me for not under­taking the task. And these reasons, on one side andthe other, are such, that not only is it in some measuremy interest here to state them, but that of the public,perhaps, to know them.

I have never made much account of what has pro­ceeded from my own mind; and 80 long as I gatheredno other advantage from the Method I employ beyondsatisfying myself on some dimculties belonging to thespecnlative sciences, or endeavouring to regulate myactions according to the principles it taught me, I neverthought myself bound to publish anything respectingit. For in what regards manners, every one is 80 foIl ofhis own wisdom, that there might be found as many re­formers as heads, ifany were allowed to take upon them­selves the task of mending them, except those whomGod has constituted the supreme rulers of his people,or to whom he has given sufficient grace and seal tobe prophets; and although my speculations greatlypleased myself, I believed that others had theirs, whichperhaps pleased them still more. But as 800n 88 I hadacquired some general notions respecting Physics, andbeginning to make trial of them in various particulardifficulties, had observed how far they can carry us,and how much they differ from the principles that havebeen employed up to the present time, I believed thatI could not keep them concealed whhout sinning griev­ously against the law by which we are bound to pro­mote, as far as in us lies, the general goodof mankind.For by them I perceived it to be possible to arrive atknowledge highly useful in life; and in room of the

ox KltTHon. 103

Speculative Philosopby usually taught in the Scbools,to discover a Practical, by means of wbich, know­ing the force and action of fire, water, air, the stars,the heavens, and all the other bodies that surround us,88 distinctly 88 we know the various crafts of ourartizans, we might also apply them in the same wayto all the uses to which they are adapted, and thusrender ourselves the lords and possessors of nature.And this is a result to be desired, not only in order tothe invention of an infinity of arts, by which we mightbe enabled to enjoy without any trouble the fruits ofthe earth, and all its comforts, but also and especiallyfor the preservation of health, which is without doubt,of all the blessiogs of this life, the first and fundamentalone; for .the mind is so intimately dependent upon thecondition and relation of the organs of the body, thatif any means can ever be found to render men wiserand more ingenious than hitherto, I believe that it is inMedicine they must be sought for. It is true that thescience ofMedicine, as it now exists, contains few thingswbose utility is very remarkable: but without any wishto depreciate it, I am confident that there is no one,even among those whose profession it is, who does notadmit that all at present known in it is almost nothingin comparison of what remains to be discovered; andthat .e could free ourselves from an infinity of mala­dies of body 88 well 88 of mind, and perhaps also evenfrom .the debility of age, if we had sufficiently ampleknowledge of their causes, and of all the remedies pro­vided for us by Nature. But since I designed to employmy whole life in the search after so necessary a Science,and since I had fallen in with a path which seems tome such, tbat if anyone follow it he must inevitablyreach the end desired, unless he be hindered either by

104: DISOOURSE

the shortness of life or the want of experiments, Ijudged that there could be no more eft'eetual provisionagainst these two impediments than if I were faithfullyto communicate to the public all the little I mightmyself have found, and incite men of superior geniuato strive to proceed farther, by contributing, each ae­cording to his inclination and ability, to the experimentswhich it would be necessary to make, and also by in­forming the public of all they might discover, so that,by the last beginning where those before them hadleft o~ and thus connecting the lives and labours ofmany, we might collectively proceed much farther thaneach by himself could do.

I remarked, moreover, with respect to experiments,that they become always more necessary the more oneis advanced in knowledge; for, at the commencement,it is better to make use only of what is spontaneouslypresented-to our senses, and of which we cannot remainignorant, provided we bestow on it any reflection, how­ever slight, than to concern ourselves about more OD­

common and recondite phrenomena: the reason of whichis, that the more uncommon often only mislead us 80

long as the causes of the more ordinary are still un­known; and the circumstances upon which they dependare almost always 80 special and minute as to be highlydifficult to detect. But in this I have adopted the fol­lowing order: ftrst, I have essayed to find in generalthe principles, or first causes of all that is or can bein the world, without taking into consideration for thisend anything but God himself who has created it, andwithout educing them from any other source than fromcertain germs of truths Ilaturally existing in ourminds. In the second place, I examined what werethe first and most ordinary effects that could be deduced

OK KBTBOD. 10~

tram these cauael; and it appears to me that, in tiliaway, 1 have found heavens, stars, an earth, and eveDonthe ~eard1, water, air, fire, minerala, and some otherthings of this kind, which of all othen are 'be moateommon and simple, and hence the easiest to k.now.Afterwards, when I wished to descend to the more par­ticular, 80 many diverse objects presented themselvesto me, that I believed it to be impossible for the humanmind to distinguish the forms or species of bodies thatare upon the earth, from an infinity of others whichmight have been, if it had pleased God to place themthere, or consequently to apply them to our use, unlesswe rise to causes through their eifects, and avail our­selves of many particular experiments" Thereupon,turning over in my mind all the objects that bad everbeen presented to my senses, I freely venture to statethat I have never observed any which I could not satis­factorily explain by the principles I bad discovered.Bot it is necessary also to confess that the power ofnature is so ample and vast, and these principles 8Q

simple and general, that I have hardly observed asingle particular effect which I cannot .at once recognise88 capable of being deduced in many different modesfrom the principles, and that my greatest difficultyusually is to discover in which of these modes the effectis dependent upon them; for oot of this difficulty Icannot otherwise extricate myself than by again seek­ing certain experiments, which may be such that theirresult is not the same, if it is in the ODe of these modesthat we must explain it, as it would be if it were to be.explained in the other. As to what remains. I am DOW

Ina position todiscero, as I think, wiih sufficient clear­ness what course must be taken to make the m~ority

or those experimeDtB whie1l may conduce to this end;

106 J)!8COUBS.

but I perceive likewise that they are sueh and 80

numerous, that neither my hands nor my income,though it were a thousand times larger than it is,would be suffioient for them all; 80 that, aecording 88

henceforward I shall have the means of making moreor fewer experiments, I shall in the same proportionmake greater or less progress in the knowledge ofnatare, This was wbat I had hoped to make knownby the Treatise I had written, and 80 clearly to exhibit.the advantage that would thence accrue to the public,aa to induce all who have the common good of man atheart, that ie, all who are virtuous in truth, and Dot

merely in appearance, or according to opinion, 88 wellto communicate to me the experiments they had al­ready made, as to assist me in those that remain to bemade.

But since that time other reasons have occurred tome, by which I have been led to change my opinion,and to think that I ought indeed to go on committingto writing all the results which I deemed of any mo­ment, 8S soon 88 I should have tested their truth, andto bestow the same care upon them 88 I would havedone had it ~en my design to publish them. Thiscourse commended itself to me, as well because I thueafforded myself more ample inducement to examinethem thoroughly, for doubtless that is always morenarrowly scrutinized which we believe will be readby many, than that which is written merely for ourprivate use, (aad frequently what has seemed to metrue when I first conceived it, has appeared false whenI have set about committing it to writing;) as becauseI thus lost no opportunity of ad vaneing the interests ofthe publie, 88 far 88 in me lay, and since thus likewise,if my writings possetS any value,. those into whose

10;

bands they may ran after my death may be able toput &hem to what use they deem proper. But I resolTedby no means to eo0geot to their publication during mylifetime, lest eitber the oppositioDlor the controversi.to which they might give rise, or eveD the reputation,such as it might be, which they would sequire for me,should be any OCC88ion of my losing the time that Ihad set apan for my own improvement. For thoughit be true that every ODe is bound to promote to theexten~ of his ability the good of others, and that to beuseful to no one is really to be wonhless, yet it is like­wise true that our cares ought to extend beyond thepresent; and i~ is good to omit doing what might per­haps bring some profit to the living, when we have inview the accomplishment of other ends that will be ofmuch greater advantage to posterity. And in truth,I am quite willing it should be known that the little Ihave hitherto learned is almost nothing in comparisonwith that of which I am ignorant, and to the knowledgeof which I do not despair of being able to attain; forit is much the same with those who gradually discovertruth in the Sciences, as with those who when growingrich find less difficulty in making ~t acquisitions,than they formerly experienced when poor in makingacquisitioDs of much smaller amount. Or they maybe compared to the commanders of armies, whose forcesusually increase in proportion to their victories, andwho need greater prudence to keep together the residueof their troops after a defeat than after a victory, totake toWI18 and provinces. For be truly engages inbattle wbo endeavours to surmount all the difficultiesand errors which prevent him from reaching the know­ledge of trutb, and he is overcome in fight who admitsa false opinion touching a matter of any generality and

108 . DIS.COURSE

importance, and he requires thereafter much more skillto recover his former position than to make great ad­vances when once in possessionof thoroughly ascertain­ed principles. As for myself if I have succeeded indiscovering any truths in the Sciences, (and I trust thatwhat is contained in this volume - will show that Ihave found some,) I can declare that they are but theconsequences and results of five or six principal diffi..culties which I have surmounted, and my encounterswith which I reckoned as battles in which victory de­clared for me. I will not hesitate even to avow mybelief that nothing further is wanting to enable mefully to realize my designs than to gain two or threesimilar vietori~s '; and that I am not so far advancedin years but that, according to the ordinary course ofnature, I may still have sufficient leisure for this end.But I conceive myself the more bound to husband thetime that remains the greater my expectation of beingable to employ it aright, and I should doubtless havemuch to rob me of it, were I to publish tae principlesof my Physics: for although they are almost all 80

evidentthat to assent to them no more is needed thansimply to understand them, and although there is notone of them of which I do not expect to be able to givedemonstration, yet, as it is impossible that they can bein accordance with all the diverse opinions of others, Iforesee that I should frequently be turned aside frommy grand design, on occasion of the opposition whichthey would be sure to awaken.

It may be said, that these oppositions would be usefulboth in making me aware of my errors, and, if myspeculations contain anything of value, in bringingothers to a fuller understanding of it; and still farther,

• See pp. 9,72.

ON METHOD. 109

as many can see better than one, in leading others whoare now beginning to avail themselves of my principles,to assist me in turn with their discoveries. But thoughI recognise my extreme liability to error, and scarceever trust to the first thoughts which occur to me, yetthe experience I have bad of possible objections to myviews prevents me from anticipating any profit fromtbem. For I have already had frequent proof of thejudgments, as well of those I .esteemed friends, as ofsome others to whom I thought -I was an object of in..difference, and even of some whose malignity and envywould, I knew, determine them to endeavour to disco..ver what partiality concealed from the eyes of myfriends. But it has rarely happened that anything hasbeen objected to me which I had myself altogetheroverlooked, unless it were something far removed fromthe subject: 80 that I have never met with a singlecritic of my opinions who did not appear to me eitherless rigorous or less equitable than myself. And fur­ther, I have never observed that any truth before un­known has been brought to light by the disputationsthat are practised in the Schools; for while each strivesfor the victory, each is much more occupied in makingthe best of mere verisimilitude, than in weighing thereasons on both sides of the question; and those whohave been long good advocates are not afterwards onthat account the better judges.

As for the advantage that others would derive fromthe communication of my thoughts, it could not bevery great; because I have not yet so far prosecutedthem as that much does not remain to be added beforethey can be applied to practice. And I think I maysay without vanity, that if there is anyone who can.earry them out that length, it must be myself rather

110 DISCOURSE

than another: not that there may not be in the worldmany minds incomparably superior to mine, but be­cause one cannot 80 well seize a thing and make itone's own, when it has been learned from another, aswhen one has himself discovered it. And 80 true is thisof the present subject that, though I have often ex­plained some of my opinions to persons of much acute­ness, who, whilst I was speaking, appeared to under­stand them very distinctly, yet, when they repeatedthem, I have observed that they almost always changedthem to such an extent that I could DO longer acknow­ledge them as mine. I am glad, by the way, to takethis opportunity of requesting posterity never to believeon hearsay that anything has proceeded from me whichhas not been published by myself; and I am not at allastonished at the extravagances attributed to thoseancient philosophers whose own writings we do notpossess; whose thoughts, however, I do Dot on thataccount suppose to have been really absurd, seeingthey were among the ablest men of their times, butonly that these have been falsely represented to us.It is observable, accordingly, that scarcely in a singleinstance has anyone of their disciples surpassed them j

and I am quite sure that the most devoted of the pre­sent followers of Aristotle would think themsel veehappy if they had as much knowledge of nature 88 hepossessed, were it even under the condition that theyshould never afterwards attain to higher. In this respectthey are like the ivy which never strives to riseabove thetree that sustains it, and which frequently even returnsdownwards when it has reached the top; for it seemsto me that they also sink, in other words, render them­selves less wise than they would be if they gave upstudy, who, not contented with knowing all that is in-

ON METHOD. lIt

teJligi'blyexplained in their author, desire in additionto find in him the solution of many difficulties of whichbe says not a word, and never perhaps so much 88

thought. Their fashion of philosophizing, however, iswell suited to persons whose abilities fall below medio­crity; for the obscurity of the distinctions and priD~.

ciples of which ~hey make use enables them to speakof all things with as much confidence as if they reallyknew them, and to defend all that they say OD anysubject agaiDst the most subtle and skilful, without itsbeing possible for anyone to convict them of error,In 'this they seem to me to be like a blind man, who,in order to fight on equal terms with a person thatsees, should have made him descend to the bottom ofan intensely dark cave : and I may say that such per­SODS have an interest in my refraining from publishingtbe principles of the Philosophy of which I make use;for, since these are of a kind the simplest and mostevident, I should, by publishing them, do much thesame as if I were to throw open the windows, and allowthe light of day to enter the cave into which the com­batants had descended. But even superior men haveno reason for any great anxiety to know these prin­ciples, for if what they desire is to be able to speak ofall things, and to acquire a reputation for learning,they will gain their end more easily by remainingsatisfied with the appearance of truth, which can befound without much difficulty in all sorts of matters,than by seeking the truth itself which unfolds itselfbut 81oW1y and that only in some departments, whilei~ obliges us, when we have to speak of others, freelyto confess our ignorance. ~ however, they preferthe knowledge of some few truths to the vanity ofappearing ignorant of none, as such knowledge is

112 DISCOURSE

undoubtedly much to be preferred, and, if they chooseto follow a course similar to mine, they do not re­quire for this that I should say anything more thanI have already said in this Diseourse, For if they arecapable of making greater advancement than I havemade, they will much more be able of themselves todiscover all that I believe myself to have found , sinceas I have never examined aught except in order, it iscertain that what yet remains to be discovered is in it­self more difficult sad recondite, than that whioh I havealready been enabled to find, and the gratifieationwould be mach less in learning it from me than in dis­covering it for themselves. Besides this, the habitwhich they will acquire, by seeking first what is easy,and then passing onward slowly and step by step tothe more difficult, will benefit them more than all myinstructions. Thus, in my own case, I am persuadedthat.if I had been taught from my youth all the truthsof which I have since sought out demonstrations, andhad thus learned them without ,labour, I should never,perhaps, have known any beyond these; at least, Ishould never have acquired the habit; and the faeiJi*ywhich I think I possess in always discovering newtruths in proportion as I give myself to the search.And, in a single word, if there is any work in theworld which cannot be 80 well finished by another asby him who has commenced it, it is that at whioh Ilabour.

It is true, indeed, as regards the experimentswhich may conduce to this end, that one man is notequal to the task of making them all; but yet he canadvantageously avail himself in this work, of DO

hands besides his own, unless those of artisans, orparties of the same kind, whom he could pay, and

ONKETBOD. 113

whom the hope of gain (8 means of great efficacy)migbt stimulate to accuracy in the performance ofwhat was prescribed to them. For 88 to those who,through curiosity or' a desire of learning, of their ownaccord, perbaps, offer him their services, besides thatin general their promises exceed their performance,and that they sketch out fine designs of which Dot oneis' ever realized, they will, without doubt, expect to becompensated for their trou ble by the explication ofsome difficulties, or, at least, by compliments and use­leu epeecbes, in which he cannot spend any portion ofhis time wi&hout 108s to himself. And as for the ex­periments that others have already made, even al­though these parties should .be willing of themselves toeemmunieate them to him, (which is what those whoesteem them secrets will never do,) the experimentsaYe, for the most part, accompanied with so manycireumssanees and superfluous elements, as to make itexceedingly difficult to disentangle the truth from itsadjuncts; besides, he will find almost all of them 80 illdescribed, or even 80 false, (because those who madethem have wished to see in them only such facts 8S

they deemed conformable to their principles,) that, ifin the entire number there should be some of a naturesuited to his purpose, still their value could not com..pensste for the time that would be necessary to maketile selection. So that if there existed anyone whomwe assuredly knew to be capable of making discoveriesof the highest kind, and of the greatest possible utilityto the public; and if all other men were thereforeeager by all means to assist him in sueeessfully pro­seen ting his designs, I do not see that they eoulddo aught else for him beyond contributing to defraythe expenses of the esperiments that migbt be neces-

114 DISCOl1RSE

sary; ana for the rest, prevent his being deprived orhis leisure by the uaseasonable interruptions of anyone. But besides that I neither have 80 high anopinion of myself 8S to be willing to make promise ofanything extraordinary, nor feed on imaginations 10

vain 88 to fancy that the public must be much inte­rested in my designs; I do DOt, on the other hand,own a soul 80 mean as to be capable of accepting fromanyone a favour of which it could be supposed that Iwas unworthy.

These considerations taken together were the rea."son why, for the lalt three years, I have been unwillingto publish the Treatise I had on hand, and why I evenresolved to give publicity during my life to no otherthat was 80 general, or by which the principles of myPhysics might be understood. But since then, twoother reasons have come into operation that have de­termined me here to subjoin some particular specimens,and give the public some account of my doings anddesigns. Of these considerations, the first is, that if Ifailed to do 80, many who were cognizant of my pre­vious intention to publish some writings, might haveimagined that the reasons which induced me to refrainfrom 80 doing, were less to my credit than they reallyare; for although I am not immoderately desirous ofglory, or even, if I may venture 80 to say, although Iam averse from it in so far as I deem it hostile to re­pose which I hold in greater account than aught else,yet, at the same time, I have never sought to concealmy actions as if they were crimes, nor made use ofmany precautions that I might remain unknown; andthis partly because I should have thought such a couneof conduct a wrong against mY8el~ and partly becaQleit would have ocoaslcned me some sore of uneasiness

OR JmTBOD. 115

wbi(~h would again bave been contrary to the perfectmental tranquillity which I court. And forasmuch 88,

while thus indiiFerent to the thought alike of fame orof forgetfulness, I have yet been unable to preventmyself from acquiring some sort of reputation, I havethought it incumbent on me to do my best to save my­self at least from being Ill-spoken of. The other rea­SOD that has determined me to commit to writing thesespecimens of philosophy is, that I Bin becoming dailymore and more alive to the delay which my design ofself-instruction suffers, for want of the infinity of ex­periments I require, and which it is impossible for meto make without the assistance of others: and, withoutfiattering myself 80 much as to expect the public totake a large share in my interests, I am yet unwillingto be found so far wanting in the duty lowe to myself,88 to give oecasion to those who shall survive me tomake it matter of reproach against me some day, thatI might have left them many things in a much moreperfect state than I have done, had I not too muchneglected to make them aware of the ways in whichthey could have promoted the accomplishment of mydesigns.

And I thought that it was easy for me to select somematters which should neither be obnoxious to muchcontroversy, nor should compel me to expound moreof my principled than I desired, and which should yetbe sufficient clearly to exhibit what I can or cannotaccomplish in the Sciences. Whether or not I havesucceeded in this it is Dot for me to say; and I do notwish to forestall the judgments of others by speakingmyself of my writings; but it will gratify me if theybe examined, and, to afford the greater inducement tothis, I request all who may have any objectioD! to

116 DISCOURSE

make to them, to t~ke the trouble of forwarding theseto my publisher, who will give me notice of them, thatI may endeavour to subjoin at the same time my reply;and in this way readers seeing both at once will moreeasily determine where the truth lies; for I do notengage in any case to make prolix replies, but onlywith perfect frankness to avow my errors if I am con­vinced of them, or if I cannot perceive them, simplyto state what I think is required for defence of thematters I have written, adding thereto no explication ofany new matter that it may not be necessary to passwithout end from one thing to another.

If some of the matters of which I have spoken inthe beginning of the Dioptrics and Meteorics shouldoffend at first sight, because I call them hypotheses andseem indifferent about giving proof of them, I requesta patient and attentive reading of the 'whole, fromwhich I hope those hesitating will derive satisfaction;for it appears to me that the reasonings are so mutuallyconnected in these Treatises, that, as the last are de­monstrated by the first which are their causes, the firstare in their tum demonstrated by the last which aretheir effects, Nor must it be imagined that I herecommit the fallacy which the logicians call a circle;for since experience renders the majority of these effectsmost certain, the causes from which J deduce them donot serve 80 much to establish their reality as to ex­plain their existence; but on the contrary, the realityof the causes is established by the reality of the effects.Nor have I called them hypotheses with any other endill view except that it may be known that I think I amable to deduce them from those first truths which Ihave already expounded; and yet that I have expressly

'~rmined not. to do so, to prevent a certain class of

ON KETHOD. 117

minds from thence taking occasion to build some ex­travagant Philosophy upon what they may take to bemy principles, and my being blamed for it. I refer tothose who imagine that they can master in a day allthat another has taken twenty years to think out, assoon as he has spoken two or three words to them onthe subject; or who are the more liable to error andthe less capable of perceiving truth in very proportionas they are more subtle and lively. As to the opinionswhich are truly and wholly mine, I offer no apologyfor them as new,-persuaded 88 I am that if their rea­SODS be well considered they will be found to be 80

simple and so conformed to common sense as to appearless extraordinary and less paradoxical than any otherswhich can be held OR the same subjects; nor do I evenboast of being the earliest diseoverer of any of them, butonly of having adopted them, neither because they hadnor because they had not been held by others, but solelybecause Reason has convinced me of their truth.

Though artisans may Dot be .able at once to executethe invention which is explained in the Dioptrics, I donot think that anyone on that account is entitled tocondemn it ; for since address and practice are requiredin order 80 to make and adjust the machines describedby me as not to overlook the smallest particular, I.should not be less astonished if they succeeded on thefirst attempt than if a person were in one day to be­come an accomplished performer on the guitar, bymerely having excellent sheets of music set up beforehim. And if I write in French, which is the language()f my country, in preference to Latin, which is 'that ofmy preceptors, it is because I expect that those whomake use of their unprejudiced natural Reason will bebetter judges of my opinions than those who give heed

p

118 DISCOURSE ON :METHOD.

to the writings of the ancients only; and as for thosewho unite good sense with habits of study, whom aloneI desire for judges, they will not, I feel assured, be 80

partial to Latin as to refuse to listen to my reasoningsmerely because I expound them in the vulgar Tongue.

In conclusion, I am unwilling here to 8ay anythingvery specific of the progress which I expect to makefor the future in the Sciences, or to bind myself to thepublic by any promise which I am not certain of beingable to fulfil; but this only will I say, that I have.resolved to devote what time I may still have to liveto no other occupation than that of endeavouring toacquire some knowledge of Nature, which shall be ofsuch a kind as to enable us therefrom to deduce rulesin Medicine of greater certainty than those at presentin use; and that my inclination is' 80 much opposed toall other pursuits, especially to such 8S cannot be use­ful to some without being hurtful to others, that i~ ,byany circumstances, I had been constrained to engagein such, I do not believe that I should have been ableto succeed. Of this I here make a public declaration,though well aware that it cannot serve to procure forme any consideration in the world, which, however, Ido not in the ~as~ afFec~; and I shall always holdmyself more obliged tothoee through whose favour Iam permitted to enjoy my retirement without interrup­tion than to any who might offer me the highest earthlypreferments.

EDINBURGH: T. CONBTABLB, PRJNTIUt TO BBR MAJBSTY.