inner world had first been explored as the basis on which all knowledge of the outer might rest. It exalted the idea of the infinite so far above the finite, as to throw the latter quite out of sight. God, the eternal, the infinite, the supreme, arose ever before it as the only object worthy of human thought, and on this wonderful vision it fixed its eye, until, dimned by that brightness, it could see nothing else. Even eternal and necessary truths resolved themselves ultimately into the will of God. God was all and in all. The result in those who came after, and carried out the inherent tendencies of the system, was pantheism.

No small part of the life and writings of Descartes was devoted to natural science. If in this he was prone to go beyond the facts into the region of theory and speculation, in his anxiety to reach some explanation, some law regulating the observed facts, and if subsequent discoveries have proved his theories, however brilliant, not always correct, his system, however grand and imposing, not always the true philosophy of nature, it must still be conceded that he was greatly in advance of his age, even in those matters where to us he seems chiefly to have erred, and that no man did more by his investigations and reflections to promote the progress of physical science and to hasten its subsequently more complete development, than René Descartes. One would entirely mistake, who should think of him as devoting his life and studies to metaphysical pursuits. With him the metaphysics were merely the foundation on which to construct a system of physics; and in this he builded better than he knew, for while in the progress and subsequent development of science, the superstructure which Descartes erected no longer remains, the foundation stands the only true and solid basis of a sound philosophy. Nor are the studies of Descartes of little value in natural science, as Morell seems to suppose. No one has investigated more diligently, or stated more correctly the general phenomena of nature than Descartes.

The nature and properties of light, the nature, laws, and movements of the atmosphere, were well understood by him, and for a century at least these branches of science remained essentially where he left them. It was to the observations of Descartes that Pascal was indebted for the idea of the experiment by which he demonstrated what Galileo and Torricelli had taught respecting the weight of the atmosphere. It was Descartes who first correctly and fully explained the law by which the rainbow flings its arch over the troubled sky and presides in beauty over the retreating march of the tempest. He carried the science. of mechanics to a perfection it had not before attained. He took up the telescope where Galileo had left it, developed the theory and perfected the mechanism of the instrument, and made of it a new thing. A treatise on music, composed at the age of twenty-two, passed after his death into many languages. With a view to understand the structure of the human frame, he devoted himself for some years to the study of anatomy and chemistry; and the work published after his death, which embodied the result. of these labors, ranks among his best productions.

It was in mathematics, however, that Descartes made the greatest advance, and stood preeminent, the foremost man of his time. He first greatly simplified the science of algebra, reducing the number of signs, and introducing the method of representing by letters the forms of quantities; and having perfected this instrument, applied the algebraic process to geometry, which no one had dreamed of uniting with it, and thus gave more progress to that science than had been made in it for centuries. The analysis of Descartes, it has been justly said, has been the instrument of all the great discoveries of the Moderns.

From this brief survey it will appear how wide was the field of Descartes' investigations, and how little he deserves to be regarded as merely a metaphysician. One can pardon the enthusiasm of his countryman and eulogist,

Thomas, when he affirms that "it was the fortune of Descartes to be able to approach no science which did not immediately assume a new aspect.”

Like most discoverers of truth, however, Descartes was too far in advance of his age to be fully appreciated by it. Commencing with most sciences, as geometry for example, where others had left off, there were few who could follow him in his rapid march. In one of his letters, so full of childlike simplicity, we find him computing how many geometricians in Europe will be likely to understand him, viz., three or four in France, two in Holland, and two in Spain. Descartes has been often compared with Bacon. "If," says Thomas, "we seek among the great men of the Moderns some with whom to compare him, we find three, Bacon, Leibnitz,and Newton. Bacon ran over the whole surface of human knowledge, sat in judgment on past ages, and ran on into the future; but he indicated more great things than he executed. He raised the scaffold of an immense edifice, and left to others the work of putting together the edifice itself. Leibnitz was whatever he chose to be. He carried into philosophy a great loftiness of mind; but his metaphysical systems seem designed to astonish and crush men down, rather than enlighten them." Newton, he goes on to say, following as he did Galileo, Kepler, Huygens, Bacon, and Descartes, profited by the labors of others, aud owes to them in part what he became. Descartes "deserves to be placed beside Newton, for he created a part of Newton, while he was created only by himself." "Time has destroyed the opinions of Descartes, but his glory remains. He is like those kings dethroned, who, among the ruins even of their empire, seem born to command the world."

The works on which I have chiefly relied in the preparation of the above, are the collected works of Descartes, in Latin, published in Amsterdam in 1656, and the French edition of his works, edited by Cousin, and published in Paris in 1824.

CHAPTER IV.

SPINOZA.

IN 1632, there was born in Amsterdam a Jew, one Spinoza, whose writings and whose name have been now for two centuries the admiration of half the reflecting world and the terror of the other half; whose influence has been felt over all Europe, and feared farther than it has been felt; who has been branded, now as an atheist, and now as a pantheist, and not unfrequently as both; whose calm, fearless mind shrunk from no difficulties and no consequences, but moved straight and steadily onward with its inexorable logic, its geometrical precision, its terrible self-reliance, to the investigation of the profoundest problems of philosophy and to conclusions from which a mind less honest and fearless, and less conscious of its own integrity and its own strength, would have shrunk back at once and forever. It is pleasant to be reminded that this strange and profound thinker was once a boy like the rest of the world, in those busy Dutch streets of the olden times, watching the shipswondering at many things.

He was a feeble and sickly lad; but for this all the more thoughtful and studious. The energy which nature intended at that early period of life to be expended in muscular activity and athletic sports, sought in him another direction, mounted to the brain, quickened the intellect, and instead of passing off in the more usual form of leap-frog and other boyish amusements, set the lad upon thinking, observing, reflecting, questioning, and opened to him that broad and wonderful field of thought-the mysteries and problems of his own conscious being.

The parents of Spinoza were humble and honest people, merchants of Amsterdam, whither they had fled from the

persecutions encountered by the Jews in Spain. The boy was at first destined to a commercial life, but such was his unusual fondness for study, and the remarkable development of his intellect, that his parents altered their purpose, and determined to give him a rabbinical education. Accordingly the Old Testament and the Talmud became his principal studies, and such was his proficiency in these as to excite the highest hopes of the great rabbi, Saul Levi Morteira, his instructor. But alas, a cloud oft obscures the brightest morning. It was soon discovered, most unfortunately, that this promising lad was not a little disposed to think for himself-possessed one of those inquiring, penetrating, restless minds, so much the terror of mere parchment and ritual expounders, which are never content with mere facts and statements, but are ever prying into the reasons, and demanding the why and wherefore of things. The great rabbi had trouble enough with his hopeful pupil. Difficulties were started, questions were put, from which all good rabbis, great and small, piously shrunk back. What does the boy mean? Will he not believe the Talmud and the tradition? What right has he to ask questions, and to have thoughts and opinions of his own in such matters? They threaten the youth. He coolly defies their rage. He shall be excommunicated. Very well. Excommmunicate if you like. I anticipate your kind intentions by voluntarily withdrawing from your community; and so, with bitter sarcasm, he turns on his heel and walks out of their ranks to return no more. Foiled in this attempt, they offer him a pension of a thousand florins, to be silent and retain some nominal connection with their body. He is indignant at the bribe. His life is next attempted. An assassin aims at his breast a deadly blow, but misses his mark. Nothing remains but to execute the sentence of excommunication. The day arrives. A vast concourse assembles. Black candles are lighted-the books of the Law are opened. The chanter sounds aloud,